#and those little things reminded him that there is still hope for a happy life
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Asking about Adam;
//A.N: This was originally going to be an RP, but due to burnout, paired with a desire to move the story along I have decided to progress the plot of Ninlil’s end Via a canon Story. Please know I will be doing my best to represent @theholyone-hh as close to his character as I can. However, I will never do as well as the original Mod who runs him so if he seems a bit OOC, I do apologize. //
TW: depressive episode, feelings of worthlessness, anxiety and yearning. Clumsy attempts at comfort, maybe some bad decisions. Some realizations Because of the topics discussed this will be a 16+ fic. If you’re feeling these types of emotions please go seek out proper help.
This isn’t going to be super long, but it is gonna be a longer story, strap in folks.
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Enjoy my story below the cut;
Ninlil had slowly been going mad, between the time that had been spent in her cage combined with her heartbreak of being left behind while others moved on, she had fallen into a depression.
Even now she laid in her bed, staring at the ceiling well into the day, yet to eat, yet to clean herself - not that such a thing was truly needed in heaven, though it still showed a lack of her own self care - and yet say hello to her keeper Host.
The winged woman started to question if what she had done was worth it… not even her sacrifice and subsequent soul selling, before that… when she was alive. Were her actions worth it?
She was always the care taker, always the protector. And yes, those she watched over never asked her to do so, she had done it because she loved them and didn’t know how else to show it…
The things she had done, the blood she had spilled, the lives she had prematurely ended for the sake of preserving her beloved…
Was it for nothing? Did she waste her time… did she waste her life?
Her breathing turned harsh as tears ran down her cheeks. A whine lodged in her throat that she simply refused to let out…
Had she truly being abandoned by those whom she sacrificed Everything for? Was she selfish for wanting them to care a bit more and not move on so fast?
But… she wanted them to move on, she wanted them to be happy, she wanted them to find peace… why did it hurt now that they were actually doing it thanks to her sacrifice…
Was she a bad person for hoping they’d still try to save her even though she knew that it was futile and if they dared to try it could result in them getting hurt? Or worse, their very souls being destroyed?
No… no, she couldn’t be selfish… she had given up too much to waste on such self-serving wishes…
But then why did it still hurt so much?
Her breathing turned harsh as she gripped the angelic fabric over her chest, the erratic and rhythmic beating of her heart a brand against her palm. Just like the warm golden hearts gripped in her hand with the fabric were a constant reminder of what exactly she had done.
She had died for love… twice…
Did that make her honorable… or a fool?
Her other hand covered her mouth as a sob forced it’s way out and she curled up into herself, laying on her side as she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror…
Her eyes weren’t hers anymore…
They were His.
Haha! Pathetic!… I’m pathetic! She thought to herself with bitterness as she tried desperately to hold back her tears.
She didn’t hear the door click open as God stepped in.
“Birdy?”
His voice came out hesitantly.
“What is wrong? What ails you?”
Now,
God was very very old, God was wise and God saw all…
But, still, he was ill-equipped at dealing with emotions. Having been alone for as long as he has, his emotional maturity is stunted, and he didn’t know exactly what humans required.
They were little things to him. God looking at humans, as humans might a smaller creature, like song birds or squirrels or even ants at times.
True, his Birdy has taught him many a valuable lesson. She has taught him about how humans utilize Free Will differently, how humans had feelings and needed to be treated like people, how children make mistakes, how pride is a powerful thing, that 10,000 years is a long time…
She was patient and a good teacher, his sweet little Birdy, a child herself compared to his vast and endless existence, but still wise and gentle.
He liked her. It’s why he kept her.
Perhaps, in his mind, he was aware that he should release her from his sculptors cabin and allow her to Roam and Experience the heavens he had created to house the mortal souls… souls like her…
But he enjoyed her company too much.
And she never asked him to leave.
So why bring it up?
Still though, as he let himself into her private room, he still thought himself ill-equipped to deal with… whatever this was.
Part of him wanted to just leave the room, but something stopped him.
“Birdy… talk to me child. Why do you weep?”
He sat on the foot of the bed, his massive height making it creak, but it held under his weight because he willed it to.
“Did you hurt yourself?”
He awkwardly - but gently - patted her back in a sorry gesture of comfort.
But for Ninlil, it was enough to know he was trying, and it made her sob harder. Not in pain, but that someone cared, and it was the very person she had sold her soul to so that he’d stop hurting the people she had been growing to love… that she did love.
It’d be hilarious if it wasn’t so sad.
She cried for 30 more minutes before the sobs finally ceased and she just breathed manually and with steady concentration to force her body and her mind to calm itself. Still curled in on herself in a vain attempt at self-comfort.
During her sobs, her head had ended up on Gods lap, his hand - still awkward- petting her hair.
“What brought this on my Birdy? What has happened?”
God asked softly, seeing that Ninlil had finally calmed.
There was a tense beat of silence before Ninlil spoke, her voice raspy and thick from her sobs.
“…. Have I been good? Did I make the right call? Was my sacrifice not in vain?”
It was God’s turn to be silent. Mulling over her words and wondering if there was a correct answer. He settled on the truth.
“You, have surpassed all expectations I had for you… You have restored my faith in humanity and for your sacrifices and good deeds, I deemed it fit to restore your divinity. You’ve been a bit more than, Good.”
He paused as he thought over his next words.
“As for the outcome of your sacrifices… I suppose it depends on what you deem as a success… Lucifer has moved on with his damned bride. They seem to have re-found their happiness, the First Man and the Second Woman are moving on and finding their peace as well. Though Adam still needs to undergo his final two remaining punishments.”
His hand jerked as Ninlil flinched beneath him, having not expected that movement from her. He expected her next words even less, though, at this point he supposed he should’ve seen it coming. She was a loyal woman after all.
The dedication she had to the original duo and the Morningstar was indeed admirable.
“Is there anyway you can leave it at the nightmares he’s already had? Maybe as payment for the tail feathers you took?” Her voice pleading.
“Pet.”
He growled, his voice low and full of warning.
“Your feathers were taken as punishment for placing your soul and my Power in danger by allowing yourself contact with a damned soul before your divinity was properly settled…”
He eyes her until she shrunk beneath his gaze, surrendering to his presence.
“And you know the deal, 3 nightmares, and then freedom. You will not sacrifice more of yourself for him. As you’ve already mentioned so many times; We are all over 10,000 years old. He can handle himself.”
He ran a hand through her hair again as if to push his order into her head, both in comfort and a mocking reminder he saw her as just that… a pet.
“Yes sir…” she conceded, knowing there was nothing she could do. Not against him. Not when he owned her soul. She felt her desire to argue his words and plead her case for her beloveds die in her chest before it was even a proper thought. His hold on her complete.
“Good girl.”
He carefully pat her head again. Praising her and rewarding her obedience.
Indeed she was a good child. He had chosen well.
“Now. What can I do to make you feel better and forget about all this, sad nonsense?”
He waved a hand frivolously at the word, as if her depression was a minor inconvenience.
To him… perhaps it was…
Ninlil sighed as she sat up and began to comb her fingers through her hair, attempting to regain her composure and her appearance.
“I need to wash, I probably look a mess… afterwards… I’d like to rest in the sun for a bit if that’s okay with you Sir.”
She looked up at him, and she wondered if she looked as pathetic as she felt. Emotionally drained, physically exhausted, eyes red and puffy, skin pale from crying.
Though if she did, God made no mention of it. Instead, he simply nodded.
“I shall allow this, I will meet you outside, do hurry.”
Ninlil nodded as she felt obedience wrap around her, urging her to hurry and obey. The side effect of her deal.
Still she took care in her task, allowing herself to be a bit pampered after her earlier violent purge of emotions.
Still though; She was outside, laying in the sun-warmed grass in under 20 minutes, God beside her, joining her. Enjoying the basking rays of golden warmth.
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There they stayed for hours. Sunbathing as though it could wash the darkness within her mind away.
Though, there were certain thoughts that still plagued her. Her mind still running.
She wanted to check on Adam, she wanted to check on Lucifer and check on Eve… she wished they were the ones beside her right now, enjoying the sunshine rays. And comforting her after her cries…
But alas, God wouldn’t permit that…
Her mind still wondered, thinking to other people she missed.
Her brother… Though, god was lenient enough to grant the siblings some free time together.
Yes, seeing Conner again after seven years had brought more happiness into her life than she could remember. She felt as though her heart was gonna burst. God allowed Conner over, and allowed her to leave with him… so long as she was back before sundown.
How she had missed him…
It had given her endless relief when she had learned that her long deceased grandparents had been the ones to take Conner in. He was still with family. And even better,
He was slowly growing. He would eventually have the chance to be an adult. He wouldn’t be a child forever.
She had wept with joy upon learning that.
Her thoughts wondered agin,
To another man she loved…
To a human she had loved…
Adam…
No not That Adam…
Her Adam, the human Adam, the brilliant doctor who was full of light and life.
The man she had ended her human life to protect…
The man she had condemned herself to hell for.
Her first love…
“Sir?” She found herself speaking up.
God lazily rolled his head to look at her, having been enjoying the sun’s rays.
“Hmm?”
“May-“ She hesitated, suddenly nervous.
“Well? Spit it out Birdy.”
God rolled his eyes impatiently as he adjusted so he was lying on his back. Still enjoying the sun.
Ninlil took a deep breath and asked. “May I see someone on earth?”
God froze. Before he narrowed his eyes in suspicion.
“Who?”
“There was a man I left behind a little over five years ago. I loved him very much…. He’s the reason I willingly damned myself to hell. I would like to check on him. See if he’s doing okay.” Ninlil would speak a little too quickly, needing to force herself to make sure her words were slow.
God thought about it for a bit before he sighed.
“I… suppose I can grant you this. You have been good lately and I suppose you deserve a reward.”
He raised a hand and with a crackle of pure divine energy, summoned a viewing sphere that glowed even in the bright daylight.
“Well, what was the mortal’s name?”
Ninlil but her lip. “Adam…”
God froze and slowly turned to look at Ninlil and Ninlil was quick to raise her hands in defense.
“Not that Adam! This Adam was a surgeon! A very talented one! They are NOT the same man! They just happen to share the same name I promise!”
God still started at her just long enough for Ninlil’s heart to drop before he sighed and shook his head.
“Oh child, what am I gonna do with you….”
He asked her. Before he turned his body to properly face her. The glowing sphere of divine light between them. And his face very serious.
“Do you love this man?”
The question gave Ninlil a pause…
She hadn’t thought about that in a while. And even a month ago the answer would been easy.
Yes, everything she had done was for him.
The deals, the murders, the monsterzation of herself, the burial of her peace, the always going, the never resting… EVERYTHING… was for him…
Even a month ago, his face alone was the picture in her mind when she thought of the word ‘Love’…
But now, so much has happened.
Now, three other faces flashed in her mind when she thought of that word… two in the forefront…
Lucifer… and Adam…
The former angel who she died for as she had her human beloved, the former angel who made her laugh, the former angel who carried her with a shocking strength when she was too weak to move on her own…
And the First Man. Adam. The man who held her safe as she took her last breath once again, the man who begged her to stay with him even as she bled out. Who held her safe when she wept through the anniversary of her brother’s death, who made her smile and laugh again, who made her feel important and baked with her. Who reminded her what is was to feel strong, yet cared for.
She did still love her Beloved… but she didn’t just love him alone anymore… she… didn’t know how to feel…
“I… don’t know….” She found herself saying, unable to help but feel like she was betraying her beloved in that moment. Tears welling up in her eyes again.
“Birdy, i would make another Deal with you. Because seeing you hurting does not please me.”
Ninlil gulped. “What would the deal be sir?”
“If whatever you see, causes you pain, and pushes you deeper into your sadness. I will remove this mortal from your memories so that you won’t hurt from them ever again…
But, if you are pleased with what you see, than I will ensure his safety for the rest of his mortal life…. If he’s as good as you say, He will know no hardships and can focus his energy on helping others.”
He holds out a hand.
“Deal?”
Ninlil started at his hand as her thoughts raced, her eyes wide and flowing with tears that left mini rivers down her cheeks as her head struggled to wrap itself around God’s words.
He would be safe… forever safe, free from any harm that may befall him. Just as she had sacrificed everything in hopes of accomplishing…
Or,
He would be forgotten, the reason for everything she had sacrificed, the reason she had gone to hell in the first place. The reason she had suffered as she had suffered and made the choices that had shaped her as a woman… simply… gone…
Was it worth it…
Was she that curious….
‘Yes’ She decided. ‘Yes she was, she needed to know that she hadn’t died in vain… she needed to see him…”
She placed her hand in his much larger grip and squeezed.
“Deal.”
The constraints of the deal wrapped around her like chains, and she felt a twinge of fear for a bad outcome. Suddenly aware that she was currently unable to lie to the ancient being before Her.
As the deal settled, the glowing sphere began to glow impossibly brighter. And images began to dance in the shadows before becoming clear.
She saw her beloved… the human Adam…
He was smiling, talking to a patient and giving what looked like a good diagnosis. The patient, who had been holding the hand of their spouse while listening to Adam’s words burst into tears and held their loved one in a tight embrace before enthusiastically shaking Adam’s hand and offering a load of sincere, tear-filled thank you’s.
Then Adam had gone through the rest of his day, conducting surgeries, talking to patients, and reassuring an old man who didn’t have enough money for his wife’s broken wrist that if he instead paid with some fresh venison, consider the price waived.
He was always like that. Ninlil remembered, So generous and kind, becoming a doctor not for the money, but for the pure joy of making others feel better.
That desire to help people no matter what is what had attracted Ninlil to him in the first place… how she would have done anything to protect that smile.
He was good… so good.
Perhaps it shouldn’t have come as a shock that when he ended the day, he went to his truck, and once he had slid in, and fished in his pocket and pulled out a ring…
Ninlil froze, not even daring to breathe.
She watched unblinkingly as he carefully slid that ring onto a very specific finger…
She sat in silence as she watched him drive home listening to the music she had long associated with him…
And she moved not even a muscle as she watched him eventually pull into a driveway, into a garage, only to step out and walk into his house.
And into the arms of a woman wearing a matching ring…
A breath left Ninlil lungs as she still continued to stare at the seeing sphere.
He had gotten married, he had moved on…
Of course he had, she reminded herself. It’s been over five years…
She watched as the couple chatted and laughed, sitting down to eat dinner before cleaning up together and dancing in the living room…
It was a picture of a perfect romance… homely, domestic and innocent…
It was everything Ninlil has never had… and everything she had wanted…
Everything she secretly wished to still eventually have one day.
When they settled in the couch to watch some movie, Ninlil found herself reaching to touch the sphere, murmuring to herself. Her eyes still fixed in the screen as tears continued to roll down her cheeks.
“He got married… he’s safe, he’s happy, he moved on… I…” She smiled, letting out a shuddering breath. “I didn’t die for nothing….”
She watched them for a few more minutes, fixated on their smiles and laughter… zoned in on their true happiness.
But when they decided to share a kiss and retreat to their bedroom, God shut down the sphere.
“Are you satisfied with what you saw my Birdy?”
Ninlil nodded, her eyes still on where the sphere was.
“I am…” Her voice broke, but not with anguish. With relief.
God nodded and carefully picked Ninlil up. The winged woman letting him. Abruptly becoming aware that the sun had set while she was focused on the visions within the sphere.
God took her inside and sat her on the crafting table before taking his own seat and grabbing a chunk of clay.
“True to my promise, I will make sure that mortal remains safe.”
He said as he shaped the clay in his hands into a great golden eagle. Molding the clay with the knowledge and skill of a master. The eagle as detailed as the actually thing before he gave it a spark and breathed life into it, making it become the actual thing and sending it to earth.
“He shall never know another day of hardship, not so long as he remains pure intentioned.”
“Thank you sir.” Ninlil responded, bowing her head in obedience. “You don’t realize how much I appreciate your generosity.”
He waved off her words with a huff. But was happy she was no longer crying as she had been before. Those sounds weren’t pleasant to him.
He kept his Birdy by his side, where they talked and learned from each other well into the night before he eventually retired into his room, and Ninlil was close behind to do the same.
As she laid in her bed, she stared at the ceiling and thought about what she had seen today.
Adam was safe, happy, and moved on… her chest hurt a bit at the thought, but more overwhelmingly, she was genuinely happy her beloved still wasn’t mourning a dead woman.
5 years… 5 years was long enough to mourn. He deserved this happiness.
Her mind filled with a sense of peace as she gave her blessing.
“May your cup always be full, your heart happy, your mind peaceful, and your wallet forever filled with prosperity, I loved you Adam…” she whispered as she stared at the ceiling in the privacy of her room. “But you’re no longer mine…My heart releases you. I wish you all the best of love and luck my former beloved”
She sighed and closed her eyes as other faces filled her mind…
How she missed them… how she wanted to be back in their arms…
In her mind, in her room, in the depth of the night. Ninlil began to formulate a plan. The last semblance of her whole, un-splintered mind grasping onto this hope. Given a purpose once more, she rattled against the chains of complacency, the Watchdog opening her eyes again.
She had to get back to them…
The only thing left to figure out was How?
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Authors note; THIS TOOK ME TWO DAYS! But it’s not proofread, please forgive any spelling errors! I hope you enjoyed!
Tagging list:
@hunters-trashblog @sinner-master-adam @chaoticmoron @rayhandle @first--woman @theholyone-hh @green-static @stampy-offical @lolmerfolk @god-the-lord
#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel oc#ninlil#hazbin oc#hazbin#Hazbin hotel OC Ninlil#Hazbin Hotel God#lore#cannon
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Whenever I feel bad I remember that Peter B was depressed af but he found joy in shipping Gwen and Miles and that he was the first person in the whole multiverse that shipped them
#him shipping them made me ship them before i even wanted to ship them if you know what I'm saying#and he didn't push it he was just like that's so cute you guys 🥰#and those little things reminded him that there is still hope for a happy life#that's what gwiles does to me too lol#makes me feel happy#cuz they weren't meant to be but they met accidentally and are from different worlds#literally different dimensions#that's so cool to think about it#peter b parker#Gwen Stacy#miles morales#spider man into the spider verse#into the spiderverse#spiderverse#gwiles#ghostflower
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𝐢 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐛𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬 | 𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐲𝐚𝐦
(gif credits to @peace--n--love)
— summary: ao'nung calls you the way neteyam usually calls you, which makes him feel jealous and insecure, but that finally pushes him to confess something he has been feeling for too long.
— pairing: neteyam x female!na'vi!reader
— word count: 2k
—warnings: pure and comforting fluff, ao'nung being ao'nung (an idiot), love confessions, jealous!neteyam, neteyam being the purest and most beautiful angel.
* Neteyam is aged up, for obvious reasons, of course; he is 19 years old.
* Sluyang means flower.
neteyam's playlist i made for inspo
writer's note: english is not my mother tongue, so please forgive me if there is a grammatical error. hope you like it!
You liked to observe the beauty that Eywa gave to Pandora, you were still surprised by how beautiful the forest and the places it could hide, even after having grown up there and having been all those years among its leafy trees, even so, the forest hid secret and beautiful places, worthy of being seen and found by only those chosen ones.
Your mother was sure that you had a special connection with Eywa, practically since the day you were born and opened your eyes for the first time, green as a pair of emeralds. She told you that you had come into the world for a purpose, that you were Eywa's chosen one, in fact, those were her last words to you before she passed away in your arms, haunted all her life by an illness from which she never got better. And since then, Jake and Neytiri had taken care of you, accepting you into their family as if you had always been one of them. You soon became close to their children, especially with Neteyam, as you were close in age.
And because of that special fascination you had for the forest and nature in general, Neteyam made a habit of always bringing you things from his many explorations and hunts, things that reminded him of you; flowers, leaves and even rocks, bright and beautiful, out of the ordinary, that stood out among everything else, just like you.
“You don't have to, 'Teyam.” You always said every time he came to you once again with a new gift. But he would simply shake his head, offering you a charming and gentle little smile, ever so kind, ears slightly bent and gaze so bright every time he met yours that it seemed to dazzle you, leaving you completely mesmerized.
With a coy smile you tried to avert your gaze from his, analyzing the object now in your hands. “Really, it's not necessary.”
“I like to do it.” He would simply reply, seeking your gaze with his big, captivating, coaxing eyes, as if it were something insignificant, something that didn't matter, something that wasn't like the nicest thing anyone had ever done for you. And you would do nothing but grin at him. You couldn't stop smiling, your cheeks felt almost numb, but you were happy, content, he made you happy. And you knew that this, in the long run, would bring serious consequences, not so good, you supposed.
And now, in the huge ocean, when you thought nothing would surprise you anymore, Eywa seemed to turn every assumption you had upside down. Jake had taken you with him and his family to the place where the Metkayina Clan lived, leaving the Omaticaya behind, leaving the shelter that the forest offered you, to now be surrounded by the ocean; salt water and sandy land.
They had been kind enough to accept you into their home and to show you their ways, noting the great difference from your own, but, apparently the younger members of the clan were not as friendly to strangers as the older ones.
Ao'nung had been rather harsh with you, especially Kiri, whom they had addressed as a freak, as they had nicknamed her, and from there, the problem grew larger, for you and Lo'ak had taken up against them in her defense.
“Look at her.” Ao'nung called out, following Kiri like prey, looking at her with big, disgusted eyes. “Is she a freak or something?”
“Don't call her that.” You stated in a not at all friendly tone, scowl and defiant eyes looking up at the chief's son, pointing at him with your index finger and thus causing him to move backwards. “You have no right to call her that, did you hear me? The Chief's son or not, I'll kick your ass.”
With a tilt of your head, you stated the threat, making him snort ungraciously, looking at you with a raised eyebrow.
“For such a pretty little girl, you sure have a big mouth.” His big eyes narrowed as he spoke, demonstrating a smug attitude as he heard a couple of snickers from his little friends at his words. “You are one of us, little flower. Why you waste your time hanging out with these aliens?”
“Hey!” Lo'ak exclaimed, appearing at your side, fists clenched and face angry. “Don't call her that, get away from her!”
“Please, leave us alone.” Kiri grumbled behind your back, hearing how now, you were the target of annoyance from the little group.
Your mouth hung open wide, totally offended now, feeling the fury shake your body from head to toe, your tail wagging angrily as you lunged at him at the same time you heard an 'oh uh' from Lo'ak.
But your movement was halted as you watched as a body larger than yours stepped between you and the bully, leaving you in view of nothing but a broad back you knew all too well and blocking Ao'nung's smug, sneering face from your view.
“That's enough.” Neteyam said in a stern tone, deep voice and tense body, always as diplomatic and calm as ever, braids moving under the command of the wind and his head, which rose slightly, giving him a more stern and much more menacing stance. “As long as we are here you will treat my family with respect and call no one by other than their names.”
His head moved so that he could look at the faces of the little group that had formed, friends of Ao'nung, as silly as he was, apparently, but who, in Neteyam's presence, seemed to have been brought back to reality and put back in their places. They were not so foolish after all, they knew that against him they would have no choice but to flee. Cowards.
“(Y/N) is just fine for you, got it?”
“Whatever.” Ao'nung replied, rolling his eyes and starting to walk, bumping his shoulder against Neteyam's as he walked past him, his eyes met yours for a couple of seconds and he offered you a smirk, making you grunt and by the time you could take a step towards him, a hand found itself on your forearm, stopping any act of violence you had planned to do.
“Cowards.” Kiri spat, rolling her eyes.
When you looked back, Neteyam was looking at you with eyes, dark, but now filled with concern, his fingers barely caressing your skin before he pulled away from your arm.
“Are you okay, syulang?”
You rolled your eyes, sighing heavily. “I'd be better if I'd beaten that skxawng—”
“Hey.” He interrupted you, noticing how your ears were still bent and your tail twitching behind your back and he laid both of his hands on your shoulders now, in an attempt to reassure you, giving you delicate petting strokes. “It's okay, it's all over now.” His gaze traveled to his siblings behind you, moving his head and face transforming to one of authority, chin up. His voice came through loud and clear, almost scolding. “Home, now. You've had a lot for today.”
Lo'ak lifted his hands, looking incredulous. “But they were bugging-”
Neteyam was quick to interrupt him. “Home. We will talk to father later.”
The younger boy let out a snarl and without further ado, began walking back to where his family was staying, followed closely by Kiri, who kept a glum face, arms crossed over her chest.
And now, all of Neteyam's attention landed on you, as it naturally did, as his body always seemed to do instinctively, even though he didn't even intend to, he always focused on you, as if you were the center of the universe, the sun of his world, the core of his heart, the magnet of his mind and the horizon of his eyes. He saw you. He had always seen you. And practically everyone in his family knew, perhaps everyone on the whole planet, except for you, of course.
Neteyam had expressly refused any offer or even, even idea from his parents to find him a Tsahik as his position as the future leader of the clan, it was his duty and it behoved him to follow to the letter the duty that rested on his shoulders as the future chief, but now, all that had been left behind with his leaving. Now all he cared about having was you. All that mattered was you.
With a beautiful sunset behind him, he began to speak to you once again, hands gently running over your shoulders and arms, becoming more attentive, affectionate, but still concerned. His brow furrowed slightly and you knew immediately that a scolding was coming now. “What were you thinking, hm? Fighting them all?”
He was always like that with you, especially when you were alone together. Neteyam never felt he was enough for his father, and he too never seemed to be satisfied of him, let alone see all that his son did for his family, for his siblings and for him, but with you, with you everything was different, he could be different, he could be himself and he knew that was enough for you, you made him feel enough, you made him feel special.
“If that's what I had to do for protecting Kiri, Lo'ak and their family's honor, of course.” You answered immediately and with your words, sounding so sure and affirmative, Neteyam felt his heart be flooded with a most familiar warmth, an emotion quite well-known to him whenever you were near him and said things such as those, always putting others before yourself, putting the welfare of his family before yourself.
A smile tugged at Neteyam's lips, admiring you with bright, big eyes, his hands trailing down your shoulders, sliding down your arms to your hands, taking them between his own tenderly, fingers toying with yours absentmindedly as he watched the clear size difference.
“He called you little flower.” Neteyam stated after a silence of a couple of seconds, twisting his head. His jaw was clenched and ears barely tilted back. “I call you that.”
You bit your lower lip, holding back the smile that threatened to curve your lips at his clear display of jealousy. He was upset about it and you had to reassure him. Your fingers caressed his wrist, tracing imaginary lines down his forearm. “I like it better when you do it.”
“I sure hope so.” He smiled again and tugged on your hand, inviting you to walk with him, both of your hands tangled between his arm, and he didn't waste a second in drawing you to him. “I want to show you something.”
. . .
Neteyam had found the spot walking along the local beach, it was a bit far from the place where his family was staying and it was far from the town in general, but that made it a perfect location. It was a small bay, surrounded by coastal vegetation, a couple of palm trees and soft silky sand, but what was really amazing, was the glows of bioluminescence under the clear ocean water, algae of all colors, small animals swimming, with the sunset light bathing exquisitely over the turquoise sea.
It was beautiful, of course. But your reaction at the sight of it was even better; mouth half-open, eyes huge and amazed, face in wonder.
“'Yam… it's beautiful.” You murmured in a soft, barely audible tone of voice, but he was right next to you, as close to you as possible, so he could hear you perfectly. His fingers were intertwined with yours and he pulled you with him across the sand to the perfect place to sit.
“Yes it is. I found it as I was passing by... I immediately thought of you.” His gaze lowered with a hint of embarrassment flashing across his pretty face. “I know how much you love nature, all the things our great mother has given us, so, I thought, you would like it.” He stated and then shrugged, attitude becoming quite braggy now. “I've seen more beautiful things, though.”
You rolled your eyes, pushing your shoulder against his in amusement as you wrapped your arms around your knees, admiring the scenery in front of you. “Don't lie now.”
“I'm serious.” He laughed, looking up at you, analyzing every expression on your pretty face. “I'm no liar, you know that.”
You raised an eyebrow, turning your head so you could look at him now. “Really, huh? So what have you seen? What possibly have you seen prettier than this?”
Neteyam smiled thinly, stirring his arm lightly, his hand passed down your back, resting on the sand, fingers fiddling with it. “Something prettier than this?”
“Hm.” You hummed, looking at him curiously.
His ears perked up, gaze dropping to his lap, steeling himself inside, trying his hardest to calm the nerves that were practically eating him alive. And then, he moved his eyes up your body, until he met yours. “I'm looking at it right now.”
Your breath hitched and your mouth parted, feeling your body freeze. Your arms fell to either side of your body, adjusting your position.
“Nete…” You whispered in a shaky voice.
“Yes, sluyang?” He tilted his head softly. “I'm being honest.” He swallowed saliva, his hand trailing up your arm, caressing your shoulder and tracing your jaw, down to rest on your cheek, fingers tracing every inch of skin he could, arranging your hair and tucking it behind your ear. “I've always seen you as the most beautiful thing…” His lips trembled, faltering for a few moments. “I see you, (Y/N).”
You closed your eyes and rested your forehead against his, nuzzling his nose against yours. “I see you too, Neteyam.”
He closed his eyes too, caressing your face with his. “When that idiot called you flower and treated you that way… like you were nothing.” His hands cradled your face now, and you rose up to face him, completely silent, breathing agitatedly. He was breathing in an agitated way too, looking frustrated, disturbed. “I was furious. They should respect you. Every one of them should know that you are mine and they should treat you as such, as my equal, as my mate.”
You opened your eyes to find his eyes already on you, your fingers stroking his arms subconsciously. Your lips brushed his as you opened your mouth to speak in an agitated voice. “I want to be yours, Neteyam.”
“I can't pretend anymore.” He declared between shaky breaths, gaze traveling between your eyes and mouth as he shook his head. “I don't care what anyone else says, I don't want anyone else. I have already chosen. I just want you, (Y/N)... I was made for you.”
“Then just take me.” You murmured against his lips before joining them with yours in a needy, agitated kiss that felt as if everything at last, made sense, as if life had been created just for this moment, as if you had been brought to life just this moment, for each other.
It felt as if all the constellations had aligned for you, as if you had all the stars just for you, and that was given just once, you knew. Everything made you feel as if Ewya had created you for each other. You were made for each other and perhaps the Great Mother had aligned the whole universe for it, for you.
“I am yours.” He promised. “I always have been.”
Your legs tangled between his as you landed on his lap, being drawn in by his arms chaining themselves around your body, massaging your waist, tattooing his touch on your skin.
“Forever.”
#avatar x reader#neteyam x reader#neteyam x y/n#neteyam x you#neteyam imagine#neteyam one shot#neteyam sully#sully family#neteyam x female!reader#neteyam x f reader#avatar: the way of water#avatar#avatar: twow#neteyam sully x reader#neteyam x female reader#neteyam#na'vi reader#lo'ak sully#cosmictheo
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first in my heart
Astarion Ancunin x Reader
Summary: Astarion hasn't seen his own face in 200 years and this bothers you deeply. You find a solution to finally show him how you see him, yet it leads to much more than simply that.
A/N: Gotta thank my sweet @iamnicodemus for encouraging me to write this. Undoubtedly one of the sweetest things I've ever written.
Word count: 4,7k
Masterlist
"I've never even seen this face. Not since it grew fangs and my eyes turned red."
It was something that lurked in the corners of your mind, those words of his. No matter how many days passed, you couldn't shake them off. It saddened you deeply. Each new passing mention about the last two centuries of Astarion's life drove a knife into your heart and twisted bitterly.
To the naked eye, it was imperceptible, never there. Even now, as you sat around the warm bonfire, watching as the pale elf bickered halfheartedly with Gale, he seemed as ordinary as your group of misfits could be. His smile loose, adorning those sharp fangs you'd become quite familiar with; silver hair curling delicately around pointy ears; deep red eyes reflecting the fire embers with a unique shine whenever he'd steal glances at you. He was the embodiment of lightheartedness and witty remarks, eccentric, unbothered, and with a quick tongue for anything.
And yet, he wasn't, not always. You felt secretly privileged, in a way, to be able to see the real him—to be allowed to. To hold him close when he wakes up gasping for air he didn't quite need and with watery eyes in the dead of the night; to softly kiss each and every scar on his back, whispering promises of love where before he had only known pain; to remind him again and again of his worth.
Astarion had a side to him you were slowly uncovering; you think, that he himself is only now uncovering as well. Vulnerable and fragile, broken but not beyond repair, yearning to be cradled by gentle hands.
He deserves to be mended, you know it in your heart. To get back what was taken from him. And you wanted to help, if only a little.
Earlier today as you ventured through Baldur's Gate, you stumbled upon a discarded sketchbook. It was a little dirty and a little worn, but it was still very much usable. Amidst your—many—questionably valuable loot, you knew you had a few good pencils to spare too.
It's been long since you picked up some paper and let your mind run free—before your whole adventure, to be precise. Maybe you'd be a little rusty around the edges and it would take a few tries to get him close to perfect, but you had time; or, you'd make time. He deserved as much.
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The lines that made him him came almost like second nature to you, maybe because you'd traced those same features with your fingertips countless times before within these last weeks. Ever since he admitted he'd fallen for you beyond his plans of seducing you, things had been easier, lighter. He allowed himself to be cherished and you were more than happy to do so.
A faint smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you created curly strands of his hair with your pencil. Delicate and precise, even for the mess that was his curls.
The sky bathed in shades of orange, pink, and baby blue as the sun lowered in the distance. The camp was as lively as it usually was during the evenings. Karlach was playing fetch with Scratch and the Owlbear cub, the latter who was mostly just running around aimlessly. Gale and Wyll were hunched over the fire doing something you could only hope wouldn't end in mild disaster. Lae'zel sharpened her blades, a scratching sound piercing your ears from afar. Shadowheart looked to be in deep conversation with Astarion, to which the vampire gestured wildly as he apparently tried to make a point.
You never expected that your unfortunate encounter with a mind flayer would give you a makeshift family, but you were thankful that it did. For better or worse, you were all in this together, and that was comfort and motivation enough.
With the strangely soothing sounds of laughter and bickering, you turned your attention back to your sketchbook. Going back one page, you had already finished a rough sketch of Astarion's profile, focused on the contrast of his sharp nose and soft curls. Now, on the next page, you were working on a more elaborate portrayal of his features, depicting a look he often wore when you sauntered over to him; the faint smile on his lips that had grown all the softer ever since you first met; the gentle tilt of his head as his eyebrows scrunched expectantly; the sharp and alluring eyes who could pierce into your soul.
"What are you up to, my sweet?"
The sudden honey-coated voice startled you, you jumped slightly on your seat and hastily covered the pages on your lap with your forearms.
The elf himself stood only a few feet in front of you, his lips pursed and an eyebrow raised in curiosity as he tried to peek past your arms.
You chuckled timidly, "Nothing, I was just- just resting a bit." Shrugging nonchalantly as you smiled.
Astarion narrowed his eyes at you but didn't push it, he never did. "Gale is trying to make us something to eat with what he got from the vendors today," he gestured behind himself and to the fire where Gale stood in front of, "I wouldn't be the first to try it out if I were you but I'm dying to know everyone's opinion on it." A sly smirk got his fangs poking out, "bonus points if someone vomits it out."
You shot him an amused look, biting back a laugh. You never quite got why he had this little rivalry with Gale—besides the fact he wasn't overly fond of Gale's flirting attempts with you in the beginning, but that had long since subsided. To be honest, you think it's more routine than anything else at this point, for show and amusement; a friendly rivalry.
Slightly cold fingertips caught hold of your chin when you didn't answer, his thumb pressing against the corner of your mouth as Astarion held you. "Do join me, will you?"
The smile you still wore shifted into something sweeter, reserved only for him. And you leaned into his touch, closing your eyes momentarily. "I will… in a moment."
Astarion blinked at your briefly evasive answer, but nodded anyway, "I'll… be waiting."
He walked away, slow steps taking him towards the commotion around the campfire. You felt a little bad for denying him company right away, but it was for a good cause, you had to follow your streak of inspiration if you wanted to finish the drawing to the best of your abilities.
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Dinner proved to be pleasant, tasty even, for Gale's culinary standards. This time of day had to be one of your favorites, with everyone sitting together around the fire at night and forgetting about life's misfortunes for a moment.
You sat by a rock, leaning your back against it as your shoulders shook with laughter at one of Halsin's stories. Astarion had plopped down by your side not long ago, the weight of his shoulder resting against yours as comforting as it always was. He took just a while longer to take your hand in his tonight, cold fingers hooking around yours and squeezing as he brought your joined hands to rest on his thigh.
Everything felt so new, you thought of yourself as a giddy teenager sometimes; heart fluttering with each lingering touch and stolen glance. For most of the time, you let Astarion set the pace of things, giving him the freedom to choose to be by your side. And there wasn't a time when he chose not to be.
He played with your fingers, palm to palm as if to compare sizes, alluring red eyes focused solely on where you touched. Innocent, boyish even. It was new for him too, you thought, perhaps much more than it would ever be to you.
And then your mind drifted back to the gift you had been steadily creating for him, excitement twirling in your stomach. You leaned closer, lips brushing the fabric of his shirt on his shoulder, "I'm gonna head to my tent for a bit, got a few things to organize. I'll find you later, yeah?"
A low hum fell past Astarion's lips, his eyes flicked to you, all big and vulnerable. "Oh, alright," his voice quiet and sweet.
You smiled, squeezed his hand, and planted a kiss on the corner of his lips. His eyes never left you as you walked away.
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It had never been on his plans, falling for you. It wasn't even something he considered would happen when he first started to slip a few honeyed words your way. But then you threw his heart off course with your tender touches and whispers of comfort, leaving telltales of your warmth all over his cold body. And he was a goner.
The last time Astarion dared to care about someone, he endured a year of punishment locked away, alone, starving, and crying for help that wouldn't come. There had been a fear, clawing at the back of his mind as he watched himself crumble for you; a fear that this would end much the same.
When he finally bared his heart for you—shaking like a leaf with the proverbial organ stretched out in his hands—he expected you to deny him, scream at him, maybe even send him away.
You didn't.
You said you cared for him. You hugged him.
There was no one else in the world like you, he decided.
Three dangerous words lingered on Astarion's tongue each time he woke up to your sleeping form beside him. For the time being, he settled for kissing the shape of them into your skin, over and over, until maybe one day you figured it out.
He scoffed at himself, finally tearing his gaze away from where you sat on the other side of the camp. If his much younger self saw him now, he'd probably be laughing. Or he'd be very envious. No in-between.
Stars danced in the night sky, alongside a half-moon dusted with faint clouds. It was late, most of the group had already turned in for the night, with Karlach keeping watch, as much to her dismay, it was her turn.
Astarion ran his tongue over his fangs, grip tightening on the book he had in his hands. He'd been trying to read the same page for minutes now.
There was no one else in the world like you. He wondered when you'd realize that. When you'd realize that you were infinitely too good for the likes of him.
With a shiver running down his spine, Astarion worried that you might have started to.
It's been a few days now that you've been… distant; tucked away in your tent whenever you settled camp, not sparing him much time of day, at least not nearly as much as you used to.
With an annoyed click of his tongue, as he closed his book, Astarion realized he missed you, even with you sleeping side by side each night. How needy of him.
But he missed your mindless talks by the fire as everyone settled in for the night; he missed your walks through town just before sunset or sunrise; he missed the causality, the simplicity of calling you his. He'd gotten used to the sweet routine quite quickly.
The thought that you might already be growing tired of him made his dead heart clench agonizingly inside his chest. He glanced back at you, hunched over your makeshift desk as you scribbled something down in a book, Scratch lying by your feet. That is a kind of pain he wasn't sure he could endure.
Perhaps against his better judgment, his feet carried him to you anyway; yet he hesitated, words heavy on his tongue. Astarion stood awkwardly behind you, fidgeting with the edges of his shirt and praying that anyone who might still be awake wouldn't look this way. Scratch raised his head when the elf approached, a whine coming from him as his head tilted from side to side as if he wanted to ask what was wrong. Seems even the dog pities his predicament.
Old habits die hard and Astarion couldn't help but assume the worst, every time. He doesn't know how to be with someone, doesn't know the first thing about being in a relationship—was that what you two had? It's not like you ever labeled it. Maybe he did something wrong, and that's why you've been limiting your time with him.
"Astarion?"
With several blinks, his eyes focused again, only to see you regarding him with a frown, hand resting atop the closed book you had been writing in. Now your head was the one tilting inquisitively.
"Is everything okay?"
Still, your voice would always be sweetest to his ears.
Astarion shook his head softly to clear the fog his insecurities had brought and plastered a smile on his lips. "Of course, my darling," he approached, extending a hand to your sitting form and twirling a strand of your hair between his fingers, "I just think you should be getting your beauty sleep by now. Come warm up my bed, won't you?"
The faint blush that dusted your cheeks whenever he sweet-talked you would never cease to endear him. "We can read that book you're so fond of if you don't want to sleep, the cheesy romance one," Astarion purred, his pointer finger tracing the edges of your jaw.
You turned your head, planting a small kiss on his palm. "I'll be going soon, just want to finish something first. You can read without me, I don't mind."
But how could he ever tell you, that the words looked blurry and tangled without you by his side?
Longer than an hour had gone by when you finally decided to come to his tent. The night was mostly quiet, eery, with only the sounds of crickets, frogs, and the crackling of the dying fire. Astarion lay on his side, back turned towards the tent's opening. He didn't need sleep, not really, some meditation here and there would usually be enough to keep his energy up. But it was a habit he'd picked up when you started sleeping together through the night.
He wasn't asleep tonight, however. He heard your footsteps approaching him, quiet and cautious so as to not disturb him. He felt you lying down beside him, ever so slowly.
Astarion closed his eyes tightly, trying to hold himself back and failing miserably. One taste of your affection had been enough to get him hopelessly addicted.
He turned, shuffling closer and curling his body around you. His arm went over your stomach and tugged lightly, like a kitten asking for attention. You didn't say anything as you closed your arms around him, your lips finding the bridge of his nose and then his forehead. Words were futile when actions spoke the loudest.
Your gentle touches, the way you hold him without malice, he could hardly get enough of it. Your arms wrapped around him and your lips grazed his skin with lingering kisses, and it didn't hurt, it didn't burn or make him feel sick. You were the first one to ever do it, to hold him without hurting him.
Astarion nuzzled your neck, burying himself in the feeling, gladly drowning in it as he drank every last drop. Tears prickled his eyes, they usually did on nights like these and he's never quite sure why. Maybe it's because of the way your fingers gently tangled in his hair yet didn't tug or scrape; maybe it's the way you tighten your hold on him as if trying to mend his fragile heart; maybe it's because of how much he longed for someone like you to come and save him, on nights where all he knew were pain and unwelcomed caresses that scarred his skin more than any blade ever could.
And now, he wanted to lose himself in the comfort he found, that you so generously provided. His fingers closed forcefully on the fabric of your shirt, nearly ripping it, afraid you'd leave if he held you any looser. The fear of waking up alone and finding out that he'd lost you was all too consuming, tugging at his heartstrings.
He closed his eyes and rogue tears dampened the collar of your shirt. It was okay, it would be dry come morning, you wouldn't know. You were warm, you chased away everything that haunted him.
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You stared at it intently. You have been staring at it for a while now, teeth chewing at the inside of your cheek in nervousness and anticipation. You checked it once, twice, turning the pages with careful fingers. The sketchbook wasn't filled, it would take too long to do so, but at least half of the pages inside it held some kind of scribble. Art pieces of various styles and levels of progression, some much more detailed than others, some mere hasty lines put together to paint a dear image you wanted to keep for a while longer. All of them of him. A book filled with the pointy ears and pale hair you adored so much.
You could only hope he would adore it just as much.
It was early in the morning and the day had yet to properly start. Most of your companions were still tucked away in their tents, some huddled around the burned logs of the fire from last night, coffee mugs in their hands and a sleepy look on their faces. You were never much of an early bird yourself, but today you made a point of rising before Astarion—you were lucky he'd picked back up the habit of sleeping and wasn't much of an early bird himself.
Hugging the sketchbook to your chest, you padded back to the warmth of his tent. As you opened the flaps, you were greeted with the sight of soft slivers of sunlight coming through the thinner part of the tent's fabric, they glimmered over Astarion's laying form, kissing his pale skin and making it shine.
You could easily get used to it; waking up to him, watching as the early morning rays painted his features golden, small wisps of dust flying in the air only giving him that bit more magical touch.
Astarion had his back to you, so you quietly kneeled beside him, extending a hand to run through his mess of curls; oh how soft they were, molding in between your fingers like seafoam on the shore. You counted yourself remarkably privileged.
You placed the sketchbook behind you so you could lie down, only keeping yourself up on one elbow. Your lips found his temple and the elf lightly stirred in his sleep. You kissed the tip of his ear next, waking him up gently. Always gently. He deserves gentleness.
With a hoarse groan, Astarion turned around to face you. He blinked several times as his ruby eyes adjusted to the soft sunlight, his face adorably scrunched from sleep. An easy, small smile appeared on his lips as soon as his gaze landed on you.
You weren't an early bird, yet you came to love the mornings, if only for this sight alone.
"Good morning, my star," you said quietly so as to not disturb the peace of the moment, still twirling a strand of his hair between your fingers.
He chuckled, "Good morning, beautiful." His voice all husky and deep, one hand finding your waist and trailing all the way up to your neck to pull you closer.
You kissed the corner of his lips and then the apple of his cheek, and Astarion's hold on you only grew tighter, pulling you on top of him. A welp escaped you as you laughed, nuzzling his neck before baring your teeth and giving him a playful nibble.
"Ow, you menace!" The vampire gasped halfheartedly, holding back a grin.
You pulled back from him with the ghost of a smile, bracing yourself on his chest. "I've got something to tell you."
His expression shifted to something you couldn't quite decipher, but he quickly masked it with a teasing tilt of his brows; "Oh? Are you gonna confess your undying love for me?" Both his hands brushed along the sides of your waist, gingerly raising your shirt as his pinkie grazed your skin.
"I thought we'd gone over that part already?" You teased back with a glint in your eyes, pushing yourself back up to sit beside him.
A whimper of complaint escaped Astarion when you separated, but he sat up with you anyway; his hair askew and all over the place, cheeks with the faintest flush to them, eyes just a little droopy, and… a strange stiffness to his shoulders. "What is it, my love?" He wondered, scrunching his nose endearingly when a piece of lint grazed it.
You squirmed in your seat; heart burning hotter than Karlach's in your chest, valves working overtime as the connection you shared enveloped you whole. You haven't actually told him how much you loved him, the four-lettered word hadn't been brought up yet, mostly for fear of the weight it held. But you wanted to, you've been feeling it for a while now.
"Well? Don't leave me in suspense," Astarion chuckled, but the sound didn't feel quite right to your ears, his smile wasn't reaching his eyes. And as you looked at him—one of his hands gripping tightly onto the fabric of his bedroll while the other tapped his knee incessantly; the ruby of his eyes almost nonexistent, covered by shiny black pupils as he looked intently at you, gaze filled with sentiment and vulnerability—you could notice it there now, that lingering fear of solitude gripping at his chest.
For a moment, you berated yourself, for you knew you'd spent quite some time on your little project, and maybe it had affected your routine more than you cared to admit. You felt a nagging guilt and sorrow for making Astarion even consider the possibility of loneliness again.
You tried shrugging it off. It would be worth it—and you'd be showering him with love and affection in just a moment anyway.
"I made something for you." The words rolled off your tongue more easily than you thought they would. You reached behind you with unsteady hands, heart in your mouth as you held onto your breath.
Astarion stared intently at the black sketchbook that was now clasped between your hands. He looked up at you, and back down, lips pursed in confusion.
"Ever since you told me… you haven't seen yourself in so long," you started, voice gentle as your thumbs traced the leather cover of the book. "And asked me how I saw you. I- I kept thinking about it and… when I found this," you wiggled the sketchbook in the air, "I guess I found a way of showing you…"
You extended the book for him to take, lowering your voice to a near whisper; "how I see you."
A short, trembled gush of air went past Astarion's lips. It was a difficult task to get him speechless, yet you had done it. He said nothing as he ever so carefully took the book from your hands, holding it as if the smallest wrong move could break it.
You watched as his throat worked through a heavy gulp, his eyes shining bright under the faint sunlight, swimming in a pool of sentiment and he hadn't even opened the book yet. Or properly looked at it, for that matter; his eyes still trailed on your face, as if waiting for confirmation that you meant it. Only when you gave him a tiny nod, did he finally look down. It hit you hard that this was probably the first gesture of this kind that he had received in his long life.
Shaky, pale hands reached to turn the first page. He hesitated for only a moment, almost looking afraid. About to see himself after 200 years of living as a ghost.
The first drawing you had made in the book wasn't your best, now that you looked down at it again; a simple portrait of Astarion looking down at a book in his hands, a little rough around the edges, hardly detailed. It had been your first try after not drawing for quite some time.
A beat passed, and a drop of water landed on the bottom corner of the page. You whipped your head up, only to see rogue tears steadily dripping down Astarion's cheeks until they reached his chin and fell on his lap. He cried silently, barely moving; the only signs being the obvious tears and the quivering of his lower lip.
He turned each page as if they were made from the purest gold. Stopping at every single drawing of him, to take it all in. He traced his fingertips over the lines that formed the curves of his curls, the tips of his ears, and the slope of his nose and lips.
People had referred to him as many things already; sexy, alluring, charming, attractive. Never had any of them referred to him as something… precious, delicate, bewitching, more than just a pretty face. Yet that's exactly how he saw himself now, through your eyes.
Astarion took his time, never speaking once. You let him, making yourself comfortable beside him and laying your head on his shoulder, simply existing in each other's presence.
Several minutes had gone by when the elf finally spoke up again. He was finally on the last used page of the book, and when the next appeared in white he slowly closed the book, still grasping onto it reverently. "For a moment I- I thought you'd grown tired of me already," it was the first thing he told you, and he refused to meet your eyes. A humorless chuckle fell past his lips, trying to laugh off his feelings.
You raised your head from his shoulder, lifting a hand to tenderly brush long strands of silver hair behind his ear; as you did so, you allowed your fingers to travel further, burying in the mop of hair behind his head. "Never. Never in a million years," you whispered.
Astarion met your gaze at last, ruby eyes glimmering with unshed tears while dried tracks of the ones before still lingered on his cheeks. This was the real Astarion; fragile, vulnerable, pleading for a gentle love, yet so beautifully strong.
"I'm sorry, my star. For allowing that thought to plague you. I just wanted this to be a surprise." You leaned forward and touched your forehead with his for a brief moment, hoping to bend the rules and physically give him your love.
"You made this," Astarion's voice broke in the middle, yet his smile was the most sincere you'd ever witnessed, "For me."
Catching a single tear that rolled down his cheek, you nodded, with a smile of your own.
There was a beat, a moment of silence where you simply looked at each other, wondering if the other felt just as much. And you didn't need a tadpole connection to confirm it.
Astarion set the sketchbook aside before all but throwing himself at you. Both his arms encircled your waist with desperation as he buried his head in your neck. His lips drew sloppy patterns and raised goosebumps in your skin as he kissed you relentlessly, from shoulder, to neck, to jaw; until he finally reached your own lips.
You brought your arms around him, pulling him in until your very souls were intertwined. Giggles escaped your lips as he kissed you, the shape of both your smiles making it difficult and all the more delightful.
When you parted, Astarion had you pinned down on his bedroll, with him resting snuggly on top of you. He refused to let go, clingy as he'd never dreamt he'd be. Your hand buried in his hair, his nose brushed the skin of your collar bone. "I had asked the gods for salvation, for any kind of blessing, countless times before. I could never guess it would come in the shape of you." He breathed in. He didn't hesitate. "Thank you. I love you."
You felt his smile. Felt the shape of his words on your skin, your soul. You kissed his hairline. "And I love you."
⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ
Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are literally what keeps me motivated to continue posting here, so I’d appreciate it if you could take some time to reblog and comment. <3
You do not have permission to repost, copy, or translate my works on any platforms (even with credit), please respect.
Astarion’s taglist: @milkiane @v1ci0us
#astarion#astarion x reader#astarion bg3#astarion baldurs gate#baldur's gate 3#astarion imagine#astarion x tav#astarion x female reader#imagine#fanfic#angst#fluff#astarion fanfic#my story#astarion ancunin
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So, what is the deal with the world’s most conspicuously uneaten Eccles cakes? (A meta)
Well, I wouldn’t say it’s bad writing, not even the on-purpose-as-a-secret-message kind. I agree there is a visual ‘loose thread’ here that the creators wanted us to notice, but I don’t think the meaning has anything to do with Metatron or the eventual plan for S3. I think the eccles cakes are all about what’s going on in this episode with Crowley and Aziraphale, and they’re unsettling in exactly the way they’re meant to be, even if we might not register the full implications consciously on first watch.
On the most straightforward level, this shot is the punchline to a joke set up by Aziraphale and Nina in the coffee shop. Crowley orders six shots of espresso, bound to get him all worked up and stressy. Aziraphale, who desperately wants Crowley to be thinking clearly when he learns about the Gabriel situation, says to Nina: ‘What do you sell that calms people down?’ And she replies: ‘Eccles cakes.’ From this moment on the cakes are a visual symbol of what Aziraphale needs from Crowley right now.
That’s why they get so much screentime as we cross the road and go into the shop. Aziraphale won't leave those eccles cakes behind because he’s still hoping that Crowley will respond to the request they represent: Please stay calm, please be patient and listen to me with empathy.
But Crowley never does respond, and as he storms out we get that close-focus shot of the abandoned plate to make sure the subtext hits home. The cakes are framed sitting in front of the horse statue, brilliantly dressed up in Crowley's sunglasses, to remind us that they were brought there for him and he's dismissing them. (Crowley is the frantic horse who can't be managed!)
There’s another level to it, though, which doesn’t fully become clear until episode 6. The episode 1 meeting in Nina’s café is the first time that Aziraphale and Crowley share a scene in the present-day in S2, which means that the last time we saw them together was when they were dining at the Ritz. As viewers, we quickly recognise the visual language of their partnership: a table for two, a drink, a dessert. It feels familiar. But the food gets delivered and then nobody eats it. On that level, it is a set-up without a pay-off and it really niggles as you watch. S1 closed out their relationship with a happy toast after a resplendent dinner; S2 opens it with a snack that gets ignored. The dynamics of who offers food to whom are also off, atypical. It’s a sign of how things are going to go later on, hinting at the fact their dynamic is dysfunctional right now, even though it might seem OK on the surface.
Which brings me, finally, on to the other thing I’ve wanted to point out…
The punchline is that Crowley doesn’t eat the eccles cakes, but the really subconsciously disconcerting thing is that Aziraphale doesn’t. That he seemingly never planned to, and never orders anything for himself. In fact, we don’t see Aziraphale eat anything substantial in any of the present-day scenes in S2. The only things he consumes onscreen are sherry, tea, and a travel sweet. (Oh, and Manipulation Coffee, which is definitely a callback to Crowley’s disastrous sextuple-espresso.) We see him with food, yes, but primarily he wants to give it to other people.
For me this little detail of S2 – not something you even fully notice until you think about it – is a very telling understated cue in terms of Aziraphale’s post-Heaven state of mind. It's about what amuseoffyre puts so well in another meta: 'the whole series looks like he’s having so much fun doing silly human things, but there’s this brittleness to it.' At first glance, we see Aziraphale interacting with food and assume he is now living the happy Earthly life we wanted for him, but on closer inspection he's not engaging much in the pleasure of eating for his own sake. He gets a quick sweet pick-me-up on his way somewhere else in the Bentley - all alone - and that's it. He's too anxious, too busy, he doesn't have time. Crowley doesn't have time to invite him for lunch.
I find it fascinating that Gabriel gets a squillion cups of cocoa in this season, waxing all lyrical about them, and Aziraphale gets none. Aziraphale's mug becomes Jim's mug, even. And he mostly makes the tea to show Muriel how to blend in. In short, S2 Aziraphale is terribly preoccupied with looking after/managing others, and not taking the time to look after himself. Like the Maggie and Nina match-making, all that kindly treat-offering is displacement, displacement, displacement.
No wonder it all goes wrong.
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Spencer Reid x Read fic. Reid and Reader are friends, like best friends. Reader is always offering Reid donuts and listening to his fun facts and info dumps. It's one of those, they both like each other, but also are convinced the other doesn't like them.
Spencer is taking care of a slightly drunk reader whose grandmother called and asked why they're not engaged when they're younger sibling is married and expecting a child. At some point Spencer makes his ever classic comment about how it's safer to kiss and drunk reader, before being able to think, kisses Spencer. I hope that made sense.
OOPS I DID EXACTLY THAT
Safer to Kiss (Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader)
Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader
Word Count: 2899
Warnings: Mentions of food, drinking alcohol, mild cursing, outdated expectations of women, and lots of pining
A/N: Hi I wrote this in 2 hours and was extremely entertained, please enjoy and if you send me a fic request I'll probably do it bc this is my hyperfixation hobby right now and very much keeping the demons at bay xD @bxm-1012 thank you for dropping by my inbox! I am VERY tempted to make a part 2 of this, I hope you enjoy! c:
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The whole expiration date thing that women faced was, in your humble opinion, complete and utter bullshit. Here you were, slowly approaching thirty (definitely still told people you were twenty-five, when, in fact, you were actually twenty-eight), and the biological clock was ticking. No, you didn’t want kids. Not right now, anyway. Not when you were only two years into your career as a profiler for the FBI’s prestigious Behavioral Analysis Unit. Not when you still had tons of things to check off your bucket list - go to Europe, visit an independent bookstore in every state, pilot a helicopter.
And you didn’t buy into that whole ‘once a woman hits thirty, her stock plummets’ crap. Not usually, anyway.
But Nan’s phone calls always left you questioning your existence.
Back home in Ohio, your little sister, Kendra, had just announced her pregnancy. Three years younger than you (ironically, the age you told everyone you were), and married to a power plant manager, Kendra was living the dream of a woman from the 1950s. You tried your best not to look down on it, to wish for more for her - but Kendra was happy. She’d always wanted to be a mother, and you couldn’t imagine anyone better suited for the role. There was nothing wrong with wanting to be a wife and a mother, to devoting one’s life to it. You reminded yourself of that every time you spoke to Kendra. You especially reminded yourself of it every time you spoke to Nan.
That sympathetic tone your grandmother used when she said, “Oh, Button, you’ll find someone eventually, and you’ll be just as happy as Kenny” was like nails on a chalkboard. You resisted the urge to gag into your speakerphone and simultaneously rip your grandmother a new one. You wanted so badly to explain to her that you were perfectly fulfilled with your life.
You helped lock up bad guys on a weekly basis, you wanted to remind Nan. Your brain was one of few that had been chosen for a task force that caught criminals based on their behavior. It was amazing, working for the BAU, bouncing ideas off of your colleagues, finding a family within this small group of people that spent more than forty hours a week together.
Nan didn’t see it that way. She wanted you to be just like Kendra. She wanted you to have that white picket fence in the suburbs, with a broad-shouldered husband and two little tykes running at your feet. Domestic bliss just wasn’t in the cards for you, you’d decided. And that was okay.
You were still reeling from your conversation with Nan the night before when you walked in to work on Monday morning. It was Derek who caught the raging RBF first. “Woah, pretty girl. Pump. Your. Brakes.” He said, halting you just as you entered the BAU’s bullpen, holding a hand up to stop you.
“Good morning to you, too, Derek,” You flashed him a phony grin, and he rolled his eyes.
“And you’re grumpy this morning… why, exactly?” Derek asked, turning to walk beside you, essentially escorting you to your desk.
“Because I’m allowed to be?” You proffered, shrugging your shoulders, not really wanting to talk about it with him. You loved Derek - hell, you loved all your coworkers - but he was not the person you wanted to go to with these thoughts. You didn’t really want to talk to anyone about it, actually. You just wanted to ride the cranky train until it came to a complete stop.
Emily was returning from the kitchenette with a fresh mug of coffee and decided that the conversation concerned her as well. “What’s going on?” she asked.
“Y/L/N’s wearing her cranky pants this morning,” Derek filled her in.
“Oh, those so don’t match your blouse, Y/N,” Emily teased, winking at you with a smirk before looking at Derek. “Cut her some slack. No one likes Mondays.”
Derek held up his palms defensively. “Alright, alright. Forgive me for being a concerned citizen.”
“It’s appreciated,” You told Derek genuinely before setting your bag down at your desk. “But unnecessary.”
It wasn’t until later in the morning, around ten, that anyone bothered you about your obvious bad mood again. This time it was Spencer, the one person you couldn’t possibly be annoyed with. He rolled on his desk chair around the partition that separated your workspaces, holding his hand out expectantly, like he usually did this time of day.
Without speaking, you opened the bottom drawer of your desk and pulled out the white bag of mini powdered donuts that you always kept in stock. They were your guilty pleasure snack, and one of the first things you and Spencer bonded over when you started at the BAU two years ago. That, and the fact that you were the closest agents in age, was how you got along so well so quickly. Over several cases, varying in degrees of intensity, you and Spencer became really great friends. Best friends, actually.
There wasn’t anyone else in your life that you trusted more than Spencer Reid.
You opened the bag of powdered donuts and shook one haphazardly into Spencer’s palm, then grabbed one for yourself. Silently, you cheers-ed your donuts together, and ate them simultaneously, making weird-but-comfortable eye contact as you did.
“Derek says you’re in a bad mood today,” Spencer pointed out with a teasing smirk on his face. A smirk, and white sugar blanketing his upper lip.
“Derek’s full of shit,” you grinned after swallowing your snack, the smile on your face totally facetious. “I’m extremely happy.”
“I can tell,” Spencer snickered as you set the powdered donuts back in your snack drawer, closing it with a clank. You watched as he brought both of his legs up into his desk chair, crossing them like a kindergartner.
The action made your stomach flutter. You’d felt strongly about Spencer for a really long time, probably a year and half, if you had to try and pinpoint it. But there was no use in going down that road with him. For one thing, he was your best friend, and you didn’t want to risk flushing the best relationship in your life down the toilet. For another thing, you knew it was one hundred percent impossible that he could feel the same way.
“What’d you do this weekend?” Spencer asked, and you could tell by the question that he was trying to discover the source of your poor attitude.
“Stayed home, caught up on chores,” You said, crossing your knees and leaning back in your seat, your expression telling him that you knew exactly what he was doing. As much fun as playing mind games with Spencer was, you decided to throw him a bone. “Spoke to my grandmother on the phone last night.”
Spencer nodded understandingly. “Say no more,” he said with a chuckle. “She gave you the whole ‘when are you going to get married’ spiel again?”
You nodded. “Unfortunately. I usually don’t let it bother me, but for some reason it’s just, like, lurking in the back of my mind today.” You shrugged your shoulders and exhaled through your nose. “What about you?” You asked.
“What about me?” Spencer arched a brow, and you rolled your eyes playfully.
“What’d you do this weekend?”
“Oh,” Spencer began, pursing his lips for a moment, like he was hesitant to tell you. “I actually went on a date.”
Your stomach flipped. “Oh yeah?” You choked out, forcing a smile. “Who with?”
“That girl, Lisa, from the coffee shop, the one you told me wouldn’t stop ‘ogling my boy band hair’,” Spencer held up air quotes when he repeated your words from memory.
You recalled the cute barista from the coffee shop just down the highway from Quantico, a popular morning stop for agents on their way to work. You tried to stop the jealousy from turning your blood into fire. “How was it?” You asked, trying to resist the urge to sit on the edge of your seat, trying not to hang on his every word.
Spencer shrugged his shoulders. “It was okay. She was very nice, but there just wasn’t…” he trailed off, gesticulating as the words failed to come to that supercomputer brain of his.
“It was like a donut without powdered sugar on it?” You suggested with a small chuckle.
“Yeah,” Spencer agreed, nodding, meeting your eyes and smiling, mildly amused. “Exactly.”
Spencer went back to his desk a few minutes later, and the rest of the day went on. It was quiet, especially for a day at the BAU. There were, weirdly enough, no open cases right now, so you spent the day catching up on paperwork, which there was always plenty of.
You caught the elevator about ten minutes after five with Spencer in tow, and you held the door open for him. It was just the two of you as you made the descent from the sixth floor, and Spencer leaned against the back wall. “Plans tonight?” He asked.
“Not really, no,” You said, shaking your head. “Why, you want to do something?” You asked.
Spencer nodded. “There’s this landscape and nature photography exhibit at one of the galleries downtown,” he said. “Might be fun. There’s this artist, Milton Harvell, who takes photos of renowned locations around the world but zooms in on an obscure detail and gives the framed photograph to the person who correctly guesses the location.”
You smiled slowly at that. You loved it when Spencer went off on one of his tangents. You found it completely adorable. “It’s actually quite fascinating,” Spencer went on, an amused tone lining his voice, making it sound lighter. “Kind of like a Where’s Waldo, but in reverse. There was this one photograph he took of the Louvre in Paris, but he zoomed in really tightly on a young boy enjoying an ice cream cone. He even went so far as to edit the photograph to make it look like it was a different time of day. The four thousand and eighth person to view the photograph was the person who guessed the correct location.” Spencer’s head bobbed and he was smiling like an idiot.
God, you were down bad.
“Was the four thousand and eighth person… you?” You asked, narrowing your eyes at him scrupulously and allowing a teasing grin to cross your face.
“The photo’s hanging in my living room,” he confirmed.
You laughed softly. “Will there be alcohol at this function?” You asked him, and he nodded.
That was all you needed to hear.
— — —
You and Spencer went straight to the art gallery from work, sharing a cab rather than bothering with your cars. You immediately bought a glass of red wine, and began to follow him around the gallery. You weren’t an art aficionado, not by any means, but you enjoyed looking at beautiful things, and you especially enjoyed spending time with Spencer that wasn’t hunched over a dead body or trying to map out a killer’s comfort zone. It was a rare occurrence, so you tried to soak it all up as much as possible.
Plus, your Nan’s words were still lingering in the back of your head. It’ll happen for you someday, Button. Men just don’t find you strong, career types attractive. Maybe you should soften up your look a little.
You downed your first glass of wine within ten minutes, and caught one of the catering staff passing out champagne almost instantaneously after. The champagne fizzled down your throat as you strolled with Spencer through the art gallery, listening intently as he went on about each piece, rattling off whatever contextual knowledge he had. But you were a little bit biased; you could listen to him list different types of soil and find it interesting.
After the glass of champagne came another glass of champagne, and by the time you made it to the main exhibit Spencer wanted to see, your cheeks were flushed. It wasn’t that you couldn’t hold your alcohol; rather, it just made you a little bit silly. Your inhibitions were lowered, just like it would affect anyone. But with your arm looped through Spencer’s and your Nan’s nagging message still in the back of your mind, you were perhaps a little more loose than usual.
As Spencer examined the exhibit, you tapped your foot, unable to keep still, and scanned the open space. Your eyes landed on another patron of the gallery, a conventionally handsome man about your age, and you found yourself unlooping your arm from Spencer’s, subconsciously not wanting to appear taken.
“Are you gonna go talk to that guy?” Spencer asked, and you snapped your eyes back to his. “Because you can, if you want to. Don’t let me stop you.”
It was almost like he was daring you to. Spencer’s jaw seemed tense as you examined his expression, the way his gorgeous brown eyes darted from the man and back to you. “You don’t mind?” You asked, arching a brow, almost like a challenge.
Spencer shook his head, his lips pursed. “Not at all. I’ll wait here for you?”
You nodded, and turned towards the man. There wasn’t any harm in getting a guy’s number, right? Your feelings for Spencer were a lost cause, anyway. Plus, as Nan liked to point out, you weren’t getting any younger.
The man’s eyes locked on yours and he seemed to understand that you were about to speak with him. He met you halfway, and you shook his hand. “Malcolm Greene,” he introduced himself, and you spouted off your own name in return. “You’re not here with that guy?” He asked, jerking his chin over to Spencer. Your eyes followed Malcolm’s, and you saw Spencer with his body turned towards the photography exhibit, but his head turned to the side, as if he were keeping an eye on you with his peripheral vision.
“Yeah, I am,” you said, and Malcolm’s head inclined to the side. “I am. I’m here with that guy,” you panicked, suddenly realizing in that moment that you weren’t interested in speaking with Malcolm. No, you had absolutely no interest in spending your time with any other man but Spencer Reid. “I just, uh…” Your cheeks flushed, and you stifled an awkward laugh, anxiously trying to come up with some excuse. “I came over here to tell you that your shoe was united.”
Your eyes followed Malcolm’s down to his shoes, which were loafers. Laceless loafers. Malcolm’s mouth opened as if to point this out to you, but you managed to stammer words out first. “Ok, well, have a great night, goodbye!” You turned on your heel and marched back over to Spencer, your cheeks red as you reached out for his arm.
Spencer furrowed his brows down at you as your arm gripped his. “I need another glass of wine,” you confessed.
Twenty minutes later, after two more glasses of wine and a very watchful eye out for Malcolm, you and Spencer left the art gallery. You were awfully giggly on the cab ride back to your place, cracking puns and humming along to the radio intermittently. Spencer seemed to be amused, but more so concerned with getting you home in one piece.
As he walked you up the stairs to the door of your apartment building, he was teasing you about your conversation with Malcolm, which you still hadn’t told him completely about. “I still can’t believe you didn’t get his number. You were talking with him for exactly two minutes and twelve seconds. What, in that short of an amount of time, could have turned you off to him so quickly?” He pondered aloud, a playfully mocking tone lining his voice.
“Listen, I shook his hand! I had my fun!” You exclaimed, bursting into laughter as you leaned against the handrail of the stairs that led up to the door. “Good, clean fun!”
“You know, the number of pathogens that are passed during a handshake is staggering. It’s actually safer to kiss someone,” Spencer rattled off, and your eyes snapped to meet his.
You don’t know what took you over. Maybe it was the wine. Maybe it was the way the street lamps reflected in the irises of his eyes, or how you stood just a few inches away from him. Maybe it was his stupid tweed blazer, how he looked like a tenured art history professor despite barely being thirty years old. Maybe it was the way he smelled like pine and printer ink, a combination you wouldn’t have ever thought was attractive.
But when Spencer said that, you stood up on your toes and kissed him. It was slow and innocent at first, until it passed the border into lingering, and Spencer’s hands found your hips, pulling your body closer to his. There was a cool night breeze that filtered through the space between your bodies, and by the time you pulled your lips away from Spencer’s, and slowly opened your eyes, you were completely red in the face and breathless.
No, that certainly wasn’t the safest choice you could have made.
——
read part 2 here
#criminal minds#spencer reid#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x y/n#basketonthedoorstepofthefbi#criminal minds spencer reid#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid x you#spencer reid fic#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid x self insert#spencer reid x fem!baureader
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GymRat!Miguel Part 6
content warning: fluff!, mentions of alcohol, uses of Spanish (if wrong, PLEASE correct me), boy-mom tendencies coming from Conchata, judging coming once again from Conchata (she means well, I promise. it just takes her a while to get there), mentions/pics of food, some PDA, it gets a little suggestive so MINORS BEWARE, Tyler + Nancy + Kron are all white for those who don’t know, Miggy still looks like ATSV Mig though, this is probably the LAST time that sorority party is mentioned, some body insecurity, Kron is a moron + freak, some violence at the end
word count: 8.5k, kinda proofread (no comment 😒 just buckle up)
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GymRat!Miguel who hopes his package makes it to you in time for New Year's. He hates that he can't just come and see you. He wanted to be with you as the clock struck 12, he always wanted to have a New Year's kiss with someone, but it felt a little silly to drop everything a drive to you. January was soon, which meant that the new semester started soon. He wasn't one to count down the days until school started, but if it meant he could be physically near you again, he would mark off the days in bright red on every calendar in the house.
GymRat!Miguel who records himself counting down with his rambunctious family in his grandma's backyard. His baby cousins are jumping up and down, throwing Pop-Its on the ground just giggling away. His aunts and uncles are yelling loudly. His mom and dad are huddled up together, his dad kissing his mom's cheeks as she laughs. George is a little drunk so he's feeling a bit more brave than usual. Gabriel and Dana are sitting in a corner, lighting sparklers to pass out to his relatives.
GymRat!Miguel who sends the video to you as soon as he can. You were probably busy with your own family so he didn't expect you to reply right away. He watched the fireworks that his uncle set off. A little dangerous with the trees being so close, but amazing nonetheless. His mom and dad gave him a group hug, then started dancing and singing loudly to Selena. He didn't even look to his Gabriel who he knew was kissing Dana's face off. He really missed you.
GymRat!Miguel who confessed everything to his Abuela as soon as she opened her mouth to say "¿Qué pasa, mi nietecito?"
He sat at the end of the table next to her, sniffling away as he rambled about everything that had happened the past semester. The late nights, the early mornings, his roommate that didn't dry off in the shower sometimes, his failed party, his missed alarms, group projects, and most importantly you.
He told her how much he missed you and how silly he felt. She rubbed his hands and reminded him that love has no bounds. She jokes about all the times she stayed with his abuelo after the stupid things he's done.
Who proposes without a ring?
GymRat!Miguel who laughs at his Abuela's stories of her younger love life. They trade stories back and forth, his stories mostly of you because you're his first true girlfriend. His Abuela listens with glee, happy to see her Miguelito so joyful. She warns him not to be like his abuelo in terms of common sense, but to be like him when it comes to how much love he has to give.
GymRat!Miguel who is eager to show her a picture of you. She is the second family member to see you outside of Gabriel, as she is one of the family members that he is closest to.
She was the one he cried to when the truth of his parent's past life unfolded. She was the one he went to when his mom berated him for the smallest things. She was the one he went to when he felt that he was competing to be seen, but he didn't want Gabriel to notice his pain. She was his everything.
He opens his growing folder full of pictures of you and scrolls to one of you during one of your library dates. You're looking up at him with the cutest smile on your face. Your glasses are falling a little bit and there's a half eaten granola bar in your hand. You were studying for an art history exam and complaining about the influx of European artists over every other continent. He had told an art joke he found on the back of a laffy taffy.
"What did the art thief say to the museum curator?" he said, getting his camera ready.
"What?" you ask, highlighting a passage.
"Give me all your Monet," he said, a snicker following.
You turn to him quickly with a giggle, "That's so silly."
"It made you laugh, though," he said, snapping a picture.
You were really sweet that day. Looked sweet, smelled sweet, and even your kisses tasted like strawberries.
His Abuela took the phone in her hands, pulling her glasses down to look at you.
A smile grows on her face as she sighs, "¡Muy hermosa!"
Miguel's heart soars. He is glad that she sees what he sees.
Of course, she wants to see you. She compliments you profusely, praising Miguel for finding such a beautiful girl. Miguel promises to bring you by one day, happy to be the bridge that connects to women who bring him such joy.
GymRat!Miguel whose bubble bursts when his mom comes up from behind, asking what he and his Abuela are talking about. He quickly brings his phone back to his chest and looks up at his mom.
“Uh, we were just talking about school,” Miguel answers.
“What are you hiding, mijo?” Conchata asks, raising her eyebrows as she tilts her head. There was a warning tone in her voice, daring him to lie.
“You’re always fussing at him! It’s New Year's, Conchata, let him relax,” his Abuela sighed.
“Ma! He is hiding something,” she says, voice getting sharper. “He’s been strange ever since he got home. What is it? Háblame.”
Miguel just let the air go from his lungs.
“We were talking about my girlfriend. I was just showing Abuela some pictures,” Miguel said, tone quiet as ever.
“That’s it? Well, can I see them?”
Miguel hesitated, not knowing how his mom would react. She could be a bit of what people described as a “boy-mom.” Despite all of the years of her nitpicking and nagging him, she still had her moments where she thought others were too good for him.
Miguel hesitantly showed her the same picture. She quickly yanked the phone and looked intensely, pinching the screen in and out.
Then she started scrolling. It would have been fine, but there were still some of the scanned Christmas photos of you that he didn’t move to his locked folder yet.
“Hey!” he said, jumping up to grab his phone. He quickly uses his height to his advantage and gets it back in his hands while his mom tried her best to keep scrolling. He looks at the photo she stopped on, one more swipe and she would see what was only meant for him. “Seriously, Ma?”
“I just wanted to see,” she said, straightening her blouse. “She’s- nice.”
Her tone was nonchalant, sarcastic.
“Nice? That’s it?” Miguel ask with his mouth turned up.
“Sí. What does she study?”
“Art.”
“Hm,” she says. “I guess you’ll be the breadwinner. If it goes that far.”
“Ma, please don’t start this,” Miguel says, feeling a headache coming on. “I already told you that this was a new relationship. One that has lasted this long for me. And there are plenty of jobs you can get with an art major!”
Conchata made a face as to say ‘really?’ with her arms folded.
Miguel looked to his Abuela with an exasperated look in his eyes.
“They are hard to get, but the world cannot move without art or love,” his Abuela says, taking Miguel’s hand in both of hers.
“Love?!” Conchata just about shouts.
Miguel just groans.
GymRat!Miguel who stomps over and yanks up Gabriel by his shirt, disconnecting him from Dana, and dragging him inside.
“Gabri. A dinner party? Really?!” Miguel huffs out, irritation high in his voice.
“Where’s ‘Hi. Hello! How are you?’ No ‘Happy New Year’s Eve, Gabriel. My darling baby brother who I love!’ Just using your sheer strength against me. Removing me from the safe arms of my girlfriend. Just rude,” Gabriel turns his nose up and folds his arms.
“You running your mouth is all the answer I need,” Miguel says as he flicks Gabriel on the head. He yelps out a cartoonish ‘yeowch!’ “Why did mom just tell me about a dinner set up to meet my girlfriend?”
“Um! Well, you see, things happen when you’re enjoying a lovely ski resort!”
Miguel just geared his hand up for another flick.
“And!” Gabriel says, leaning back with his hands up. “Sometimes little brothers have to cover up for their big brothers when they almost punch the shit out of their half brothers!”
“So you tell them to throw a dinner?”
“No! That’s not even how I roll. All I said was that you were probably talking to her. Blame Nancy. And Tyler. And ma! Once Nancy suggested it, ma was ready to tag along. She’s been trying to stick her nose into your life for years.”
Miguel’s shoulders just slumped.
He pulled Gabriel in for a hug, “Sorry Gabri. I should have just asked you. She was just being really weird about the whole thing.”
“It’s ok, nobody knows your heart like me. But, do you really think it’ll be that bad?”
Miguel pondered that question.
“Hopefully not. I won’t let it get awful. She doesn’t deserve that,” Miguel says.
“Let’s look at the bright side. Tyler likes her. Dad likes her. Nancy’s opinion doesn’t really matter, but she likes anything Tyler likes. Kron is an idiot. And I definitely like her.”
Miguel clicks his teeth.
“Oh don’t make that face, Miguel. You know you love me!” he says and puckers at Miguel’s face.
“Ew, get away from me. You were just slobbering all over Dana,” Miguel says as he pushes Gabriel away and turns to go to his designated room.
“You’re so mean!”
GymRat!Miguel who answers within seconds when you call as he sits on the bed.
“Happy New Year!” you sing out, dragging the ‘year’ in a cute melody.
“Happy New Year, baby,” he says, smiling at your cuteness.
“I got your package!” you say, fighting with the phone to stay straight. You finally get it steady and start backing up. “It’s so comfy! The chest part is a little snug, though. Nothing too crazy.”
You stand in the middle of the camera. Miguel had delivered a bunch of his old sweaters to you after you mentioned wanting to snuggle during one of your FaceTimes.
He did everything to make sure they smelled like him. He used a specific detergent. He sprayed them in his cologne. He even wore them each for a set amount of time.
The one you were wearing was merchandise from when Gabriel decided he wanted to play basketball. You turned around and Miguel was met with ‘O’Hara’ printed across the back and your cute little shorts.
“Do you like it?” Miguel asked, internally freaking out. You’re wearing his clothes and his name.
“I love it!” you say, grabbing the phone and climbing onto your bed. “They smell like you too. I feel nice and warm.”
You brought the neck of the shirt up over your nose, eyes smiling at the screen. You were going to be the death of him. He’s become jealous over cotton and wool.
“Can I see it one more time?” Miguel asked, eyes heavy as he sat back against the headboard.
You popped up from your cocoon of his sweater and bit your lip, “Is this riling you up, Miguel?”
“More than you know. How could it not? My girl is wearing my clothes,” Miguel replied earnestly.
He heard you let out a soft noise, embarrassed as you stretched the phone out.
“Yeah, I’m really loving this,” Miguel said, voice lower.
You brought the phone back to your heated face, still not used to that type of response from Miguel.
“Don’t hide from me, cariño,” Miguel said, watching as you fanned your face. “Let me see you.”
“Cariño?!” you say, heart beating even more.
“Are you not my sweetie? My baby? My girl?” he asked, looking at you playfully.
You just rolled to the side and let out a huff.
“You’re teasing me,” you say, voice just above a whisper.
“Not teasing. Just admiring,” he says, eyes twinkling.
You bite the nail of your thumb, “I have an old selfie stick. I can go get that if you want to see more.”
“Please!” Miguel all but shouts.
You giggle as you run to get it out the of box. Miguel’s anticipating the show as he listens to you throwing things across the room.
When you get your phone high in the sky to pan over your body, it takes everything within Miguel to not start howling. Your legs were glowing, thighs full and ready for him to grip and bite. Your shorts were squeezing your hips. Most importantly, his sweater was stretching across your chest.
“God, I wish I was there,” Miguel groaned, rearranging his pants. His excitement was making his clothes feel uncomfortable.
“Me too,” you say, panning the camera back to your face. “I want my muscle bear.”
“Yeah?” Miguel asked, smiling at the screen. He loved it when you called him that.
“Mm hm,” you reply, picking at a loose thread. “I told my mom about us. She was getting worried and said I was walking around the house like a ghost. She’s excited to meet you.”
Miguel sat up straight, heart dropping. That was a stark difference from his mom.
“That’s great! When does she want to meet? I need to get her a gift. Is she still looking for that travel bag set? Or do you think she would prefer a meal?”
“Miguel-”
“I can ask my Abuela to help me make something. Does she have a favorite restaurant? Should I wear a suit? Business casual, maybe.”
“Mig-”
“I need to get her some flowers too. Does she have a favorite flower? Oh my gosh. Is she allergic?”
“Miguel!” you speak up, laughing at his state. “Calm down. It won’t happen until like, next month. You have enough time to prepare.”
“Baby, don’t laugh! This is important. I have to make a good impression,” Miguel pouts.
“And you will! I’ve already told her so much about you.”
He actively gulps, “Even the party?”
“Ok, that didn’t go over too well. She ran her mouth to my dad about that. But! She doesn’t blame you,” you say, calming tone.
“She hates me. Your dad hates me. How am I going to win them over?” he says, dramatically bopping his head against the wall.
“Miguel,” you sigh. He just groans out shaking his head from side to side. “Baby, look at me.”
The cursed baby card had Miguel at attention.
“You’re sweet. You’re handsome. You’re intelligent. And you’re charming. I promise you, there’s nothing to be afraid of,” you say, reassuring him.
Miguel nods slowly.
“You think I’m handsome?” smile creeping back.
“Oh my god. Is that all you got from that?”
“No! But you called me handsome, so I have to lock that away.”
“You also have himbo tendencies,” you respond.
“All the better to fawn over you with, cariño.”
GymRat!Miguel who curses when the pictures of you in his sweater come in shortly after you in the call. One of them is you on your stomach with the ‘O’Hara’ on full display with your underwear and ass peaking out.
He sets it as one of his wallpapers in record speed.
“How do you expect me to NOT be a himbo?”
“Feral”
“Oh my god. 😭”
GymRat!Miguel who does his same pick up and spin you around number when he sees you a couple of weeks later. You were glowing and giggly.
GymRat!Miguel who casually greets the people in the dorm lobby as he carries you to your dorm room. You didn��t even fight him, as he was always adamant with PDA. You just put your head in his neck and didn’t look up until you were at your door.
You saw the red face of one of the girls living on your hall as Miguel kissed your neck. You quickly averted your gaze, squirming so he could hurry up and open the door. Miguel just assumed you were hungry for more and took even longer to open the door.
“Mig-” you say, cut off as he groans into your skin. “The door, please.”
Your legs wrap around him tighter as he turns to where you were just looking.
“Sorry about that! Got a little excited,” he says to the girl with a wink. She turns even darker and it looks as if steam is about to escape her head as she scurries down the hallway.
“Rude.”
“Miguel!”
“What? She could have said something instead of just watching us.”
“Just please. Open the door, you goof.”
“Yes ma’am!”
GymRat!Miguel who is ecstatic that Jess won’t be there until tomorrow afternoon. He lays you out on your bed and hovers over you.
“I missed you so fucking much,” he says and drops his body on yours. You let out an ‘oof’ relishing in his dead weight.
“I missed you too, Miggy,” you say, patting his head. “Enough to be on my bed with outside clothes on.”
Miguel looks at you, sheepish. “I’ll help you wash them. And pay for it.”
“Yeah you will. But for now,” you pull him close and bring his lips to yours. “Let’s enjoy this.”
He loses track of time and kisses you until your stomach growls for dinner.
GymRat!Miguel who goes all out for Valentine’s Day. He opted to buy you one of the Valentine’s Day packages that the school offers, figuring that it wouldn’t hurt.
He sets up a small breakfast for you and Jess for Galentine’s as a gift for having his back. He had MJ deliver it to you, as he still had class that morning.
He sent you a photo later after his workout, one of your paper kisses on his cheek as he stood in the mirror with a towel wrapped around his waist.
You almost screamed in the middle of your studio class.
To end the day, the two of you did a couple challenge in Target. Once back in his car, you both gave each other gifts.
You almost cry when his “something that reminds me of you” gift is in fact not something from Target. It’s a cute bunny necklace inside of a handmade box.
“Miguel! This is so beautiful,” you say, in awe at everything.
He puts the necklace on for you, “A bunny for my baby.”
You devour him with kisses in the Target parking lot.
GymRat!Miguel who’s sweating bullets when your mom comes to visit later that month. He woke up with his stomach rocking. He couldn’t even look Peter in the eye as he stepped out of the bathroom, apologizing profusely.
“Dude, you might not make it out of here if you don’t calm down,” Peter says while lighting a candle he definitely wasn’t supposed to have in the dorms.
“I know, I know. It’s like my body can sense the bad vibes from my brain,” Miguel says, gathering everything for today’s lunch. “I haven’t even eaten anything today.”
“Cheer up, O’Hara,” Peter says as he pats his back. “At least you’re not meeting her parents’ eyes while you’re humping their daughter in their guest bathroom!”
“Jesus, Parker.”
GymRat!Miguel who laughs when he sees Gabriel’s texts. He’s sitting in the parking lot of the meeting location an hour and a half early.
“Ik your ass has the bubble guts”
“Remember to breathe”
“And that the dinner with our mom might be waaaay worse”
“Like”
“Miles worse”
“Thanks for the words Gabri”
“Real touching”
“So you’re saying I should become a motivational speaker?”
“Got it”
“Not quite!”
GymRat!Miguel who runs open the restaurant door when sees you from the waiting area. He’s so freaking nervous.
“Hello!” he says, holding the door for you both. Your mom gives him a quick thank you as you all step inside.
“I remember you saying he was tall, but I didn’t know he was this tall!” your mom says to you as she holds Miguel’s arms.
You introduce them, “Mom, this is my boyfriend, Miguel O’Hara. Miguel, this is my mom.”
Miguel almost sputters as you casually call him your boyfriend.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, ma’am,” Miguel says, handing her a gift bag and you both a bouquet of flowers. “I have heard so much about you.”
“Likewise,” your mother says, shocked at the gifts. “And what a gentleman. You didn’t have to get me these!”
“Please,” Miguel says. “I needed to get something for the woman who brought such a gift to this world for me.”
If Miguel still wasn’t so nervous, he’d chuckle at the twin surprised looks you and your mom were sporting.
GymRat!Miguel who hits it off with your mom quite well. He’s a bit shaky at first, stuttering over simple phrases when the conversations were first starting. You put a hand on his thigh, rubbing your thumb to bring him reassurance. From then on, he just let go.
He’s able to chat about everything she brings up. Even the obscure TV show that she loves to watch. You’re highly impressed with how good he’s doing.
He even apologizes smoothly when the sorority party is brought up. Your mom reaches across the table to hold his hand and tells him that she is proud of him for owning up to his mistakes and taking a stand.
She heads to your car first, giving you two some private time.
“You think that went ok?” Miguel asked, finally relaxing his shoulders.
“I think that it went swimmingly. I also think that I want to kiss you.”
Miguel turns to you, blush high on his cheeks and neck as you walk your fingers up his thigh. You give him a peck on the cheek and say you have to drive your mom back to her car.
Miguel walks you out and waves you all goodbye as you leave the parking lot.
“He is such a handsome young man! Charming, too,” your mom finally says.
“I know!” he was never going to shut up about that once you told him. “What else do you think about him?”
“I think he’s great for you. He’s very smart. Respectful. He’s clearly infatuated with you. He couldn’t stop looking at you.”
You avoid your mom’s gaze as she teases you.
“He was lovely, truly. He has my approval. Now, it’s your father he has to really impress,” she says with a chuckle.
You rolled your eyes, not even ready for that storm.
“As long as he doesn’t break your heart, he has nothing to worry about from me. Your father? One bad day and you might not see Miguel ever again.”
You just tapped your finger on the wheel and pursed your lips, mind lingering near the future.
GymRat!Miguel who talks to you about coming to his house after the semester is over. The midterms were soon but so was spring break. He had to let you know sooner rather than later that his family was going all out with trying to meet you.
“A dinner?” you say incredulously as you look up from your sandwich. “Like at a restaurant or at home?”
“Like a full blown dinner party at my bio dad’s house.”
“That’s,” you say taking a pause as the words settle. “A lot.”
Miguel felt like shit.
“I know. Look, I can tell them to cancel the whole thing. They can see you whenever,” Miguel says, sliding his foot next to yours under the table.
“No. If attending this is how I can make a good impression, then I’m more than willing to attend. I just need to prepare. Starting right now.”
Miguel smiled, “And I’ll be there with you for every step of the way.”
Miguel sat with you and helped you break down every relative that he knew was coming.
Gabriel
You knew him already
Easy to please
Annoying (according to Miguel)
Likes you a little too much (also according to Miguel)
Wants to steal you from him
“Miguel, I don’t think he’d do that. He has a girlfriend,” you say, still writing down notes.
“Baby, I know my brother. He might have a girlfriend but that doesn’t stop him from being Denis the Menace,” Miguel huffs out.
Tyler
His biological dad
A little aloof, but means well
Gifts money like it’s nothing
Might still be a little in love his mom
Will give you a bear hug, unaware of how large he is
“Kind of like you, babe,” you comment.
“But I’m doing way more than hugging you, babe.”
“And he’s in love with your mom?”
“It’s a long story.”
Nancy
Tyler’s wife
Definitely married Tyler for the money but eventually found love with him
Owns a Pomeranian named Lala
A bottle blonde turned housewife
Wanted to actually be on a housewife show until she secretly went to Bravo-con and saw how stuck up all of the housewives were
“I feel like that was pretty obvious, but alright.”
“She’s still not the brightest, but she’s nice.”
Kron
A dickhead
Miguel’s half brother
Tyler and Nancy’s only child after Nancy never wanted to go through the pain of childbirth again. And she didn’t want anymore changes to her body.
A year older than Miguel
A dickhead
“Should I have to stay clear of him?”
“No because if he tries something with you, I will handle him myself.”
George
The dad Miguel grew up with his entire life
Where Miguel gets his hopeless romantic tendencies from
Really likes soccer, wanted one of his sons to be a soccer player but got two nerds instead
Met his mom before she knew she was pregnant with him and charmed his way into her life. He didn’t know that Miguel wasn’t his until he was born and Tyler barged his way into the room when he was originally visiting someone else. He saw Conchata’s name on a baby sign and came in crying.
He still stayed with his mom because he loved her but he made Tyler sweat for ever leaving his mom like he once did: lost
“Your dad punched him?” you ask, stopping your writing.
“Yeah. My mom says it wasn’t pretty. Tyler learned a valuable lesson that day because Nancy came in and slapped him once she figured out what went down. He’s never denied Nancy or my mom a material thing since.”
Conchata
Hard on Miguel but dotes on him a lot now
The reason for a lot of Miguel’s self doubt
Wanted Miguel to be a doctor but has settled with science
Blasts music on Sunday mornings while she cleans, therefore waking the entire house
Will actually give you trouble (hence the conversation from two months ago)
“Did she give Dana any trouble?” you recall Gabriel’s girlfriend. “Is there anything that I need to not do specifically?”
Miguel tilts his eyes up, “Now that you mention it, I feel like she welcomed Dana with open arms. That might be more of a little brother privilege than anything else, though.”
You bit your lip, “That’s not good then. I don’t want her to think awful of me or our relationship.”
“She won’t. She just needs time to process.”
“That makes it sound like I’m stealing you from her.”
Oof.
Abuela
Already eager to meet you
Miguel’s world
Taught Miguel how to do certain meals and crafts as he was almost always at her house
Thinks you’re gorgeous
“She said that I’m gorgeous?” you ask, shocked.
“And talented,” Miguel hums. “And brave. Lots of compliments.”
“Oh!”
GymRat!Miguel who stays pent up all of spring break. He was supposed to be enjoying his days off but instead he’s replaying your whiny voice messages and watching videos of you in his clothes. He doesn’t know how much more he could take.
He looked down at his state. Tissues, lube, ragged sheets, your polaroids, his phone. You were driving him crazy.
GymRat!Miguel who almost sprints around campus when his last final is finished. He’s free! For a couple of months at least. To celebrate, he and Peter are having a small get-together in their dorm room with lots of pizza, wings, jello shots, cake, and games.
GymRat!Miguel who cries like a baby at Gabriel’s high school graduation. His baby, who he raised and cared for, practically birthed, is growing up!
George makes sure to get a wobbly video of Gabriel dancing across the stage and Miguel with snot dripping down his face as he hollers.
“What to do with these two?” George sighed as he wrapped his arm around Conchata.
GymRat!Miguel who tussles with Gabriel later that week after he finds out that he sent that video to you. Their dad has to come break up their play fight.
GymRat!Miguel who isn’t surprised that Tyler managed to pay for all of your transportation and stay ahead of the dreaded Stone-O’Hara dinner.
Miguel picks you up from the fancy hotel and thinks that his dad went overboard.
You're waiting in the lobby when he sees you, stunning as ever.
“Wow,” Miguel says, stunned to stillness as he takes you in, unbeknown of his presence. Your dress is flattering you in every way. His goes from your legs, to your heels, to the necklace he got you for Valentine’s Day adorning your chest.
“Baby, you look amazing,” he says, finally coming up to you.
You look up at him with those deer eyes again.
“You think so? It’s not too much, is it?”
“Not at all,” he says grabbing your purse and helping you to your feet. “So beautiful, cariño.”
You duck a bit, bashful from his gaze. Miguel leans your head back up, stealing a kiss from your lips.
“If we weren’t expected, I’d take you back up to the room,” Miguel whispers.
You ball your hands on his chest and look around nervously.
“I might have to take you up on that offer tonight,” you whisper back, heart rattling.
It was Miguel’s turn to feel shy. He walked close behind you as you both made your way to his car, mind racing of the things you both could get up to.
GymRat!Miguel who thinks your reaction is adorable when you see just how huge the Stone property is. You can’t believe that one man owns all of this land. Miguel tells you that this is, unfortunately, just the beginning.
GymRat!Miguel who almost knocks Gabriel down. He’s gawking at you like an idiot when he opens the door to Stone Manor.
“Woah,” Gabriel says, mouth gaping like a fish.
“Hello to you too, Gabriel. It’s nice to meet you in person,” you say with a cute curtsy.
Gabriel continues to flounder, mouth opening and closing like that cat meme.
“Will you at least let her in, you idiot?” Miguel barks.
“Sorry! So sorry,” Gabriel says and opens the door further. “That’s really embarrassing. You’re supposed to see my charm and fall madly in love with me.”
Miguel is about to seriously hurt him when Dana comes around the corner and does the job for him.
“Who’s falling in love with who?” she says, elbowing Gabriel in the stomach.
“Nobody and no one!” Gabriel keels over in pain.
“Thank you, Dana. You could probably hit him again for me,” Miguel says. “I want you to meet my girlfriend.”
“It’s a pleasure! The boys have told me a lot about you. I hope that you enjoy tonight’s dinner,” Dana says, reaching her hand out to you.
“Gabriel has said a lot about you as well. He didn’t say how cute you are though!”
Dana blushes instantly and holds her hand over her mouth as she giggles.
“Of course he couldn’t. He was too busy trying to win you over. I might have to beat them both to the punch though,” Dana replies.
Miguel and Gabriel just make the same irritated noise.
GymRat!Miguel who hold your hand as the four of you walk into the dining room. You’re gripping his hand tight as you take everything in.
It was so grand. Like a hotel. The ceiling fixture was huge and intricate. The color scheme was muted with pops of bright white.
It was…a lot.
“There she is! The lady of the hour,” you see a man even taller than Miguel say. He has brightly gray hair that’s styled intricately so. He’s grinning bright as he comes towards you with his arms wide.
He indeed goes for something like a bear hug, just like Miguel said. Except, Miguel is there to steady you when Tyler collides with you a bit too hard.
“I’m so sorry, I’m just so excited to meet you! I’ve heard so much through the grapevine and I remember your emails like they were yesterday! Please, Please! Have a seat.”
“Not before she greets everyone, Ty-Ty!” you hear a shrill voice from behind him. “Sorry about him. He’s like a golden retriever. My name is Mrs. Stone but you can call me Nancy!”
You shake her hand and exchange pleasantries. She snaps her hand behind her with a beckoning motion.
“This is our son, Kron!”
You look up to see a man with platinum blonde hair and a scowl aimed towards his mom that could rival Miguel’s.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” you say, holding your hand out.
Kron eyes your body in a way that makes a horrible feeling go down your spine. His eyes plant themselves a bit too long on your chest before he decides to return the greeting.
“The pleasure is all mine,” he says, with a voice that assume was supposed to be smooth. Yuck.
Miguel quickly wraps his hands around your shoulders, “Let’s go meet my other parents.” He turns his mouth up at Kron as he moves you past him. If Tyler or Nancy weren’t there he’d buck at him.
“Mom, Dad, Abuela, this is my girlfriend,” Miguel says with a hand on the small of your back.
“Tan bonitia!” his Abuela cries and walks fast to take your hand into hers. “Eres tan bonita! Miguel! Where did you find such a doll?”
You giggle at her words, bashful at the attention.
“Thank you so much, ma’am. You are extremely beautiful yourself.”
“Oh, a sweet one too! Call me Abuela, yes? ¡Eres un ángel!” she says cradling your face to get a good look at you.
“Gracias, Abuela,” you say, a little softer. Miguel thinks he’s falling in love if he hasn’t already admitted it.
“Come, come! Meet my daughter and son-in-law!”
“This is George!”
“Lovely to meet you, Mr. O’Hara,” you say, looking into his eyes with a smile.
“A pleasure to meet you! My son has been in high spirits these past couple of months. And truly, from the bottom of my heart, thank you for what you did for him. He’s so stubborn, like his pa. He wouldn’t have budged!”
You chuckle at his comments about that O’Hara stubbornness, “It was no effort on my part, Mr. O’Hara. I wasn’t going to let something like that slide.”
You briefly turn to Miguel, trying to find a safety net under all this attention. You were happy to see that he was staring right back at you.
George then stepped to the side and brought Conchata forward, “Speaking of effort, I’d love for you to meet my wife.”
Here was the big one. The one you felt in your heart and soul was the woman of the night to please, the final boss.
“Mrs. O’Hara, what an honor it is to meet you. Miguel has told me countless stories about you. I’m happy to finally meet you face to face, and not just through words,” you say, holding your hand the highest it has been all night.
You could hear a pin drop with how quiet it was.
You panicked, thinking maybe you said something wrong. You’re about to pull your hand back until she finally reaches out and shakes your hand.
“Yes. You are the one that my son took forever to introduce me to. I’m happy that you made it here tonight. I do hope that you enjoy it,” she says. Her voice was calculating and a little cold.
You didn’t know how to take that so you just smiled and hoped that this was how she acted when she first met new people.
You heard the clinking of a fork against a glass.
“Gather around everyone,” Nancy said. “Dinner is about to be served!”
You all go to your seats. You smile at Miguel as he pulls your seat out and helps you sit at the table. He sits next to you and rubs your thigh, just as you did to him months ago.
Gabriel and Dana are sitting in front of you and Miguel. George and Conchata are to Dana's left as Tyler and Nancy are to your left. Kron has somehow placed himself near the head of the table near the parents, while Abuela is seated at the opposite end near the O'Hara brothers.
Nancy calls your name with glee, "I hope you came hungry because tonight we're doing a six-course meal."
You raise your eyebrows. You didn't know that this was the route they were going to take and from Miguel's face, he didn't know either.
There is an array of what you assume to be butlers and servers to come out, each holding a dish. There's even a chef who comes out with a smug look on his face.
"The theme for tonight is 'Everlasting Love.'"
You watch as Gabriel gives Dana a quick side eye and they communicate a silent conversation within just a few seconds. If you were to guess, it would be something along the lines of "is this serious?" and "as a heart attack."
"The first course is roasted artichoke hearts with a feta dressing drizzle. It represents the budding of a fresh relationship. I do hope you enjoy," he says walking away as the waiters lifted the cloches from the plates.
Below were the tiniest little artichoke hearts you've seen in your life.
As you were grabbing your utensils to begin eating, you could see Gabriel fighting for his life not to let out a laugh, shoulders twitching. Miguel just sighed as he put an entire heart in his mouth.
"So," you hear Tyler start up a conversation. "I hear that you are an art major. I would love to see some of your work. We do need a new painting for the entrance hall."
You wait until you swallow before you answer back, "I would love to create a piece for you! I'm sure you would want to see my work first, but whatever you want, I'm sure I can provide it."
"That's exciting! I'm so tired of seeing that boring white horse everyday. Right, Ty-Ty?" Nancy whines a bit as she leans close to Tyler.
"My wife is right. I'm sure your work will liven up the place!"
"I took that picture of the horse," Kron looked at his parents with a frown on his face.
"Oh, I wouldn't want you all to take that down. I'm sure it's very valuable," you say, trying your best not to upset anyone.
"Nonsense! We can always put the horse somewhere else," Tyler says, patting his son on the shoulder. "There's no need to frown son."
"You don't even know what her art looks like. It could be awful for all we know," Kron mumbles.
Rude.
Miguel's about to open his mouth but you quickly respond, "I would be happy to show it to you. If you don't mind, I can pull up my website right now."
So, you did. There are gasps, oos, ahs, and oh mys as your phone makes its way around the table. Kron's face cracks especially when he sees your work. He gets a little red in the face as he squeezes a compliment out.
By the time the next two courses come out, (an oddly pink soup based on the pool of memories that we store in our hearts and a market salad with cranberries and almonds to represent the start of young love) you've managed to impress the Stones, George, and Abuela plenty more times, shut Kron up four more times, and get an eerie stare from Conchata several times.
She hadn't really said a word since you shook her hand.
You all were enjoying a small palate cleanser of sparkling grapefruit juice to represent the sparks of love at first sight when she finally decides to speak up.
"Where did you get that dress?"
She had your full attention, "Oh! My mom lent it to me. She said it would be perfect for a special occasion."
"Your mom?" Conchata looked concerned. "She didn't think it was a bit inappropriate for dinner?"
You look down at your dress. Your cleavage was on display. You knew it was too much.
"I-I guess it is a bit too exposing," you say, conscience over every rise and fall of your chest she could probably see from her side of the table. You didn't bring a shawl with you either. You couldn't hide it.
"I mean, look at Dana. A long, non-revealing gown," she pans to Dana with a warm smile.
You did look to Dana who looked up, bug-eyed and confused. She looked back and forth across the table, a little incredulous.
"Ma, Dana's entire back is exposed," Gabriel said matter-of-factly as Dana turned her body a bit to show the criss-cross detailing of the string pulling the dress together.
"Sure, but, we can't see it here at this table."
"Conchata, dear, what is this about?" Nancy reaches her hand across the table, concerned.
"This isn't about anything! I'm just making conversation like everyone else here," she responds.
She's about to open her mouth again when her mom bites out a sharp "Conchata!" from the end of the table.
Luckily, the tension is broken by the chef bringing out the fourth course: a rare filet mignon to represent how our hearts bleed as they yearn for love.
How fitting.
You chewed your food in silence, controlling every movement that you could because now you felt that the entire table was ogling your chest.
It wasn't until the second palate cleanser, a red sorbet, came out that you saw that Kron's eyes never left you or your body. You felt sick.
You excused yourself and briskly walked to the bathroom.
You closed the door and took a deep breath. You looked over your appearance again. Was it really too much?
You washed your hands and took a few deep breaths. You were here to meet Miguel's family and make a good impression. Even, if his mom seemed to hate you, you were still gaining the hearts of everyone else. You're doing this for Miguel. Keep it together.
After a short pep talk, you straighten out your dress and your back, wanting to walk back into the room with your head held high.
What you don't expect is to be met with Kron as soon as you open the door.
"I'm sorry, did you need to use the restroom?" you ask, thinking that you were in there too long.
"No, but I was hoping to speak with you," he says, staring you down. "I apologize for my reaction earlier. Your art really is nice."
"Thank you," you say, trying to discreetly step from the door. He really did give you the ick. "I'm sorry that your parents are trying to take your art down. That was never my intention."
"No harm, no foul," he said. "What is confusing is how a pretty little thing like you ended up in Miguel's bed and not mine?"
"Excuse me?" you asked, a dirty look planted on your face.
"I'm not speaking another language, baby. You should dump him and get with the winning team. You'd make a great trophy wife."
"Look, Kron. Chronic. Megatron. Whatever," you say, trying to get away from him as he leaned closer. "I'd really appreciate it if you left me alone. I'm just trying to get back to dinner."
"The one person who you want to notice you is not impressed," he says with a snicker on his lips. "My parents seem to already enjoy you. You could drop this whole gig and be with me. Seriously."
GymRat!Miguel who storms over to where you went with a quickness. You were gone way too long and Kron was nowhere to be found.
"What the fuck are you doing?" Miguel asked with a bass in his voice.
"Great. Now the bear has been poked," Kron says to you. "We're not doing anything, Miguel. Calm down."
"You are doing something because why are you that close to my girlfriend?"
"Is she your girlfriend? Because I'm real close to getting a taste of that-"
Miguel grabs Kron up by his collar so quickly, you almost miss his movement, "You wanna finish that sentence?"
"Hey. Hey!" you whisper-shout, trying not to get the attention of everyone else. "Can we please just make it through this dinner? You two can do whatever you want afterwards. Please."
Miguel lets Kron go who sports a smirk across his face as he heads back towards the dining room.
"Thanks, dollface," he says, shooting you a wink.
Miguel only tightens his fist as he watches him walk away, "I should have hit him."
"Later, baby, please."
GymRat!Miguel who is significantly calmed down by the time you both make it back to the table. You let him breathe you in for a minute or two and it was like the bad energy was drained out of him.
The last two courses were a dessert and a specialty tea. The chef offered them both up at the same time, claiming that they complement each other like two parties in a couple.
You sipped your tea gingerly, happy to have made it to what you hope is the end of a long night.
The dessert in front of you looks delicious. It's in such a cute cherry shape, and it takes everything within you not to take your phone out to snap a picture.
You're about to dig in until you hear Conchata clear her throat.
"Are you sure you don't want to save that until tomorrow? I wouldn't want you to be bloated or anything," she asks hurriedly.
Oh.
So that's what this is about. All the remarks, the stares, the comments. They weren't about your character, your words, or even how you treat Miguel. It was all because of your appearance.
She thought you weren't good enough for her son because of your appearance.
You put the fork down, defeated. Conchata won the night.
Your throat burned as you bit back tears of shame and embarrassment.
"Mom, are you serious right now?" Miguel spoke up, voice cold as ever.
"Miguel don't talk to me like that! I'm your mother."
"A mom that's kinda being a bitch right now," Kron mutters under his breath.
You would agree, but it wasn't your place to make that comment.
Miguel lets that be known as he gets up and socks Kron right across the face.
The entire table is up in a flash, trying to get Miguel off of him.
Tyler is finally able to pull Miguel up after a few minutes. He's heaving, face the angriest you've ever seen it.
He yanks his body from Tyler's and opens his mouth, "This sorry excuse of a party to gang up on my girlfriend is over. I'm sick of it."
"Ma, you really said some horrible things tonight. I've tried for years to remain respectful towards you, but tonight you've really pushed it, and hurt someone that I love."
Love? Your eyes went wide and your heartbeat started to ring even louder in your ears.
"Kron, I've been sick of your bullshit for god know's how long. Biting off of me and my accomplishments is one thing, but cornering and harassing my girlfriend that I chose to bring around you is another. If you ever try that shit again, our poor dad isn't going to be able to get me off of you. You will never be me. Get over it."
"And finally, it seems that only a select few of you can stand up to the consuming fire that is Conchata O'Hara. I love my girlfriend for who she is first and foremost. She was the light that came into my life. You think I'm going to let something as minuscule as her body stop me from loving her? You should be ashamed, ma."
Miguel moves quickly as he shoves two plates in one of the butler's hands and tells him to pack it to go. He then turns to his grandma at the end of the table who didn’t even budge when Miguel snapped.
"Lo siento, Abuela," he whispers to her, truly upset that he let this get this far.
His grandma just gave him a long kiss on the cheek and whispered something in his ear.
"C'mon. We're leaving," Miguel holds your hand as he gets ready to guide you towards the entrance.
You bow to everyone, "I'm sorry about all of this." You're pulled by Miguel who wants to get out of the suffocating manor quick.
What a horrible first impression.
GymRat!Miguel who is silent on the car ride back to your hotel room. He's partially still calming down and partially listening for you to say anything. Your head hasn't turned from the window. He just places his hand in yours, hoping that he can get the message across that he was here for you.
GymRat!Miguel who doesn't see you crack until you're up in the hotel room, the lights are dimmed, and your heels are off. He's quick to wrap his arms around you as you sob. Your cries becoming louder and louder. His heart breaks at every shaky breath that you take.
"I know, I know. I got you, baby," he says, rocking with you, in hopes that you could just breathe.
GymRat!Miguel who helps you unzip your dress, offering to wash your body. You tell him no and that you need that little quiet time to yourself to think. He understands.
He still paces the room while you're in the shower, thinking about the things he should have done to prevent this.
GymRat!Miguel who feeds you bites of the leftover dessert, still wanting you to enjoy something from tonight. You hum in between bites, sniffling a bit along the way. Even in this state, you were most precious to him.
GymRat!Miguel who kisses away your tears as you let out your insecurities. He reassures you that you're perfect. Body, mind, and soul.
"I love you," he says looking at you deeply. "Honestly, I feel like I've loved you since our group project. I loved you since our smoothie date. I've loved you since carrying your art supplies. I've loved you since listening to you rant about animatronic rats. Since you opened your dorm door pissed off at me. Since our coffee dates. Since our library dates. Since I first saw you with your matching outfits."
You still couldn't believe it.
"You love me?" you say, still trying to comprehend.
"Te amo, mi amor. Deeply and truly."
GymRat!Miguel who keeps you in his arms the entire night, kissing you to oblivion. You're both staring at each other. A faint moonlight peaking through the curtains.
"I love you too, Miguel," you say, words drifting into the night.
It's all Miguel needs to kiss you to sleep.
dividers by: @y-onb + @benkeibear 🩵
a/n: If you would like to become my designated Spanish checker or a buddy to help me learn/write my Spanish, please let me know 😭. (There was already someone but I forgot your @ !!!)
As always like, reblog, and COMMENT! Let me know how you feel. 🩵
(I am thinking of putting these on my AO3 because they are officially long enough to be fic chapters lol. The question is...how much should I change the format?🤔)
taglist: @ghost-lantern @miguelhugger2099 @slushycoookie @emelie-s-h @lake-lili @obsessed-with-miguels-ass @scaleniusrm @superiorspiderass @lexluvswriting @flordelalunas @froggygal @vmpz8sauceee @famouscattale @nixinluv02 @jada-of-arcadia @spideykid22 @what-the-jams @julia4today @tojishugetiddies @samjinxx @sleeklyalisha @the-pan-liquid @prongs-lover @kikaaauu @urlocallocachica @wanderlustingcastaway @peachey-pie @ch3rry-bl1ss @girl-of-multi-fandoms @love-kha1 @manlikemilesmyguy @sillysillygoofygoose @monticellohoe @kodzuminx @lauraolar14 @bruhhvv @m4dyy @farrowroyale @ce3stvu @ohara-whore @muneca-lemon-steppa @alexa4040 @amelialysm @snails-doodles22
#love lab drabbles 💊#GymRat!Miguel 💪🏾#miguel o’hara x reader#miguel o’hara x chubby reader#miguel o'hara x plus size reader#miguel o'hara x plussize!reader#miguel o'hara x chubby!reader#miguel o’hara x plussize!reader#x plus size reader#x chubby reader#miguel o'hara x chubby reader#miguel o'hara x reader#x reader#spiderman 2099 x reader#miguel ohara x reader#miguel o’hara x y/n#miguel x y/n#miguel o’hara au#spiderman 2099 au#miguel o'hara au#miguel o’hara imagine#atsv x reader
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Champagne Problems
so...this is super long, the longest fic i've written in a hot minute. like 18.k words long. i wasn't going to post it until part two was underway, but i'm kind of excited to share it. here is the aftermath of champagne problems...
Part Two
*.*
"Don Perignon, you bought it, no crowd of friends applauded, your hometown skeptics called it Champagne problems."
Your fingers moved across the keys of the grand piano as you mumbled softly to yourself, only loud enough that the voice recorder on your phone would pick up on it. This wasn't your typical method of songwriting, you weren't even sure there was a song to actually write; but the melody had been haunting you for days, pressing against your mind until you finally sat down and played it.
It wasn't often you thought of the events that occurred a year and a half ago. You usually did everything in your power not to think about that night, knowing that nothing ever good came out of dwelling on that particular wrinkle of your past. You only looked forward, sometimes hoping that if you didn't think about what happened, your memories of the worst night of your life would eventually disappear from your mind altogether.
But there was something about this melody that brought that night to the forefront of your memory. You'd played it over and over on the piano for a few minutes, waiting for the words to come. Your mind kept circling back to the past, and after trying to avoid it, you finally let emotion win out. No one was in the studio with you anyway, it would be safe to unlock that particular box. Just for a few minutes.
"She would've made such a lovely bride, what a shame she's fucked up in the head," you said to yourself, the last part coming out as an afterthought. You laughed a little to yourself, remembering the disapproving stares and the whispers behind your back that people always thought went unnoticed by you. "But you'll find the real thing instead. She'll patch up your tapestry that I shed."
Despite knowing that leaving your would-be fiance was the right choice for you, breaking up with him was the hardest thing you'd ever done. It still hurt to remember that night, to recall the look of absolute devastation on his face when you stopped him from reaching into his pocket for the little velvet box you knew was in there. He didn't deserve to be wrecked so thoroughly, especially by someone like you. He had been sweet and kind and gentlemanly. He treated you like a princess and defended you to his family when they didn't approve. He was everything a man should've been to you and more.
And all you could do in return was prove his family right.
You stopped murmuring lyrics for a moment, letting that last thought float through the empty room on somber notes. You thought about your ex now, wondering where he was now and hoping he was well. You hoped he was in love and happy, that he'd forgotten all about you. He deserved all the best things that love could grant a person. You wanted that for him. You wanted someone who had the capacity for the kind of love he wanted to give.
Repeating the last few lines again, the next few thoughts came pouring out of you, the words carrying a bittersweet taste to them.
"Your mom's ring in your pocket, her picture in your wallet, you won't remember all my Champagne problems."
The song tapered off soon after that, and you realized there was nothing left in you to say. You felt lighter afterwards, as if pushing some of those long-forgotten memories out of you and onto the grand piano eased the weight you'd been carrying around on your shoulders for the last eighteen months. Quickly stopping the recording, you set a reminder on your phone to listen to it tomorrow and write down everything you'd said. The recording itself was lengthy, long pauses stretching between lyrics as you worked through your memories and attempted to vocalize them. Hopefully something was there to actually mold into verses and a chorus, if not, it was a rather odd but surprisingly satisfying therapy session.
Gathering your things into the bag at your feet, you stood up from the piano, stretching your arms above your head. It was easy to get lost in a good melody, but your poor body always paid the price if you spent too much time bent over a guitar or piano.
It was as you stretched that you realized someone was at the door. He was leaning against the doorframe, watching as you shouldered your bag and slipped your shoes back on your socked feet. He didn't say anything as you walked over to him, just stepped out of the way so you could walk out of the studio. Harry normally wasn't this quiet, in fact, he could be quite the chatterbox if the mood struck him. But his silence told you he'd probably heard more of your session than you would've liked. Because one thing Harry liked to do in all his chattering was pepper you with questions about yourself, which was annoying since you were constantly trying to have him not get to know you.
"Coffee?" was all he said as you walked toward the elevator at the end of the hall. The sleeve of his patterned sweater brushed against your arm, and you resisted the urge to lean into him. He always wore the coziest clothes when in the studio, and it made you want to walk just a little bit closer to his side, for no other reason than the feel of soft material on your arm and not the person wearing them.
Nodding, you said, "Sure."
Harry qucikly pressed the button when you reached the elevator, and you couldn't help but laugh a little. In the time you'd spent not getting to know him, you discovered that he was the kind of person that just had to press the elevator buttons. It didn't matter how many people he was with, it was like he took joy in something as simple as getting to press a button and watch it light up beneath his finger. He'd actually speed-walked to get ahead of you a couple times just so he could press the down button. It was kind of annoying, and perhaps a little childish, but you'd surprisingly grown to find it endearing. A quirk of Harry's that just made him who he was.
The ride down the elevator was quiet, and it wasn't until you were out on the street that he finally spoke. "I'm thinking about getting a pet."
You'd been bracing yourself for the inevitable questions about the song you'd been recording, and when they didn't come, your shoulders relaxed almost imperceptibly, though you were sure Harry noticed. "Really?"
"Yeah. All my friends are disgustingly in love," Harry said with a playful shudder. "I'm feeling like a third wheel most days, so I thought I would seek companionship of the furry variety. Wait, that came out wrong. I didn't mean—"
You chuckled at his stuttering, at the flush creeping up his neck and warming his cheeks. "I know what you mean," you said, sparing him any more embarrassment. "So what are you thinking then? Dog? Cat? Hamster?"
"Well, you see, that's the thing," he said, quickly recovering from his chagrin. "I'm not sure I have the time necessary to devote to training a puppy, but I'm also worried about getting a cat and it absolutely hating me, and..."
You listened as Harry explained in great detail the pros and cons of each kind of domestic animal one could have. He spoke animatedly with his hands, looking at you with those big green eyes of his, as if to make sure you were following his train of thought.
You never planned on befriending Harry, and even now you weren't sure that whatever was going on between you was considered a friendship. You'd always been the type to keep to yourself, especially after what happened with your ex. You'd not only lost him after the break up, but friends too, friends who thought that what you did to your ex was despicable and reprehensible and not worth keeping a friendship over, picking sides when you hadn't realized there were any. It hurt to lose so many people in one fell swoop, and you decided soon after that you were better off alone. Except for your brothers of course, but all of you kept so busy that it was hard to keep track of one another on a good day.
Outside of them, you realized it was hard to hurt someone when there was no one around you to hurt.
But Harry was different. You'd seen him around the building where you worked on your songs—in the hallways, waiting for the elevator (after pushing the button, of course), at the vending machine, on your way out of the studio or while he was entering it to start his session. The first thing you noticed was that he was never alone. Well, that wasn't entirely true. The first thing you really noticed was his smile, how it lit up his entire face and showcased the most adorable dimples you'd ever seen. But since you refused to admit that, the first thing you noticed was that he was never alone.
Harry was always coming and going with one or two or sometimes three people around him. He was always engaged in some kind of conversation, his head always turned as he listened aptly to what his friend was saying. It seemed so odd to you that he was hardly ever by himself. It was like a foreign language to you, and you imagined your constant solitude felt the same to him.
"Anytime you want to weigh in here would be great."
"If you want a pet, get one," you said simply.
Harry rolled his eyes as he held open the door to the coffee shop a couple blocks down the street from the building where you both worked, as if he was expecting anything other than your usual direct way of speaking. "If you don't keep this conversation going, then I'm going to have to ask about that incredibly depressing song you were working on, so please, indulge me in the great pet debate of twenty-eighteen."
For the most part, Harry was a pretty easy going guy. He had no problem carrying a conversation, and knew when not to pry. As the months went by, though, he knew how to get you to talk, how to find trap doors in the fortified walls you kept around yourself before you even knew they were there. It would be frustrating if his questions didn't always come with an endearing smile.
So you shrugged, eager to steer clear of any topics regarding your past. "I don't know, I'm a little biased. I've always been a dog person. Buddy's my best friend."
"First of all, I'm offended by the fact that I am not your best friend, and second, since when do you have a dog?"
The conversation paused while you and Harry went up to the counter to order you coffees. Both of you went there enough that the staff knew what you liked—dirty chai for you and an americano for him. It also meant you didn't have to deal with the barista having a mini-freak out at the realization that Harry Styles was in their coffee house. People tended to interrupt your conversations with Harry regularly—on the street, in line for coffee, at the table—but he never seemed bothered by it. He always smiled and indulged in a couple minutes of conversation and the occasional picture before waving goodbye. He always apologized to you afterward, but after the first couple times it happened, you waved him off. None of it was actually his fault, and seeing him interact with his fans became something you actually enjoyed watching. And it was perhaps a very small reminder as to why you preferred to just write songs for other artists, not perform them. You didn't need that kind of attention. For Harry, he seemed to come alive like a flower in bloom.
You? You would probably just wilt.
When you and Harry sat down with your drinks, he raised his brows for you to continue. Wrapping your hands around your cup, you shrugged again. "I've had Buddy for about a year now."
"What kind of dog?"
"Mostly pitbull, I think. I found him in an alley behind a restaurant once, and I know what shelters do to pitbulls, so I adopted him."
You'd come to think of the whole thing as Buddy finding you.
"And you named him Buddy?"
"Yeah, I don't know, after Buddy Holly I guess." You'd grown up listening to classic rock because your brothers did, and the name just kind of made sense to you. And he was just so cute, he was your little buddy. Big buddy now, you supposed. You thought he deserved the cutest name for the cutest boy in your life.
The rest of your time in the coffee house was filled with chatter, mostly from Harry. He talked a little more about the Great Pet Debate, then about the project he and his team was working on. An album, though they were only just getting started seeing as Harry just came back from tour. He tried peppering you with the occasional question, knowing if he asked too many you'd clam up and shut down. It was almost like Harry knew that you were fighting getting to know him, but that it wasn't just him, it was everyone. He was patient with you for some reason, though, seemingly content to chip away at the brick walls around you. Even if all he had was a spoon.
"So...What were you working on at the studio?" Harry finally asked.
You knew it was coming, so answering didn't seem so daunting. "I'm not really sure. The melody had been in my head for days, and I finally decided to play around with it."
"A perfect non-answer from Y/n L/n, everyone," Harry said, though you knew he was joking. His eyes were crinkled with mirth as he hid behind his cup, his brows raising to give you a knowing look.
Nothing about your past was easy to talk about, so you just didn't. After your breakup, you didn't even tell your brothers the finer details, not wanting to relive it or face all their questions. It all brought you an overwhelming sense of shame and despair. But maybe there had been something cathartic about your session today and it left you feeling lighter and open because you found yourself sharing more with Harry.
"It...reminded of me and my ex, so I kind of just let it all out. I'm not even sure what I was doing constituted as songwriting, but," you looked down at your mug. "The melody dredged up some old memories, I guess."
"It sounded painful," Harry said, his voice taking on a soft, sincere tone.
You knew he meant well, but the sympathy made you skittish. "It's fine. It was a long time ago."
"Right, of course," Harry said, catching on to your mood change. "Well, um, my friends and I are having a little get-together of sorts this Saturday. You should come."
"A party?"
"No. A get-together. Very different," Harry corrected.
It made sense, the last time Harry tried to invite you to a party his friend was throwing, you politely declined, claiming they weren't really your thing. They weren't, but it was more that having friends wasn't really your thing.
You wanted to say no again, but when you met Harry's eyes, something in you hesitated. His expression was open, earnest, like he would genuinely be upset if you said you wouldn't come. You didn't quite understand why he wanted to spend time with you so much. Maybe you felt a little bad for always pushing him away, or maybe you were actually warming up to him.
"I, um...that might be fun," you said, not sure if it was nerves or excitement swimming in your belly.
The way Harry's face lit up made saying you would come worth it.
After a few more minutes at the coffee house, you and Harry went your separate ways, but not before he made you promise to join you on one of your morning walks with Buddy Holly. Something must've been in the air today, because you found yourself nodding before heading down the street away from him.
On your way home, you got a phone call from your oldest brother Evan. "Hey, Evan. How's life treating you in the Big Apple?"
"Just fine. It'd be a lot better if I got to see my kid sister more often. Are you still coming for Thanksgiving?"
Of your three brothers, Evan was the one who checked up on you the most. Perhaps that was the nature of being the oldest of four, but he had always been the most responsible, the one to keep you and your other brothers in line. Well, mostly your other brothers. But Evan had always looked out for you. He was the only one you told at length about your breakup. You'd confided in him all your life, and he was coincidentally the only one of your brothers you could count on not to go and beat up on your ex or his family.
"Flight's booked and everything," you told him. "Not sure if I can swing a trip to the lake house, though."
Despite your less than ideal upbringing, you and your brothers had all done pretty well for yourselves. No thanks to your parents, seeing as you all shared a dad who never liked to be with the same woman twice. But you and your brothers all stuck together through thick and thin, supporting and celebrating and sticking together despite the differing parentage between the four of you. And now you were all scattered, your brothers Andrew and Hayden were professional athletes and Evan was a bigshot lawyer. Once you moved out of your hometown, you really only saw your brothers for holidays. And the occasional surprise visit from Andrew, though that hadn't happened in a while.
"That's okay," Evan said. "Next time."
"Next time," you agreed. Then, "How's the family?"
"Good. Sammy's gotten so big. And Laura's already showing."
You grinned as you imagined Evan's family. He deserved a happy ending with a loving family after raising you and the idiots you called brothers. "Another team member for the family football game."
"Speaking of the family football game," Evan said, and you mentally cursed yourself. "Laura's been dying to know if she should set an extra spot at the table."
Immediately, your mind went to Harry, but you quickly whisked that thought away. "Nope. Unless Hayden's got a new girlfriend."
"Really? No one?"
You narrowed your eyes even though Evan couldn't see your expression. "Why are you fishing? Gossip is Andy's thing."
"What? I'm not fishing!" Evan spluttered, but you just scoffed and waited. Evan might've been a shark in the courtroom, but he'd always been terrible at lying to you. "Fine. Laura was reading one of her gossip magazines, and you know I don't pay attention to those, but you know, I might have seen someone who looks an awful lot like you pictured alongside a former boy band member."
Well, shit. You knew that was a reality of being Harry's acquaintance, but you'd always done your best to not pay any attention to it. So far it had done a good job, but now it was coming to bite you in the ass.
"It's nothing, Evan. He's an artist. I'm a songwriter. We work in the same building," you said.
"Fine! Fine," Evan said, and you could just picture him holding his hands up in surrender the way he'd done since you were a teenager. "I just thought I'd ask now and try to soften the blow. I'll just leave you to the wolves."
"Damn you, Evan," you muttered. Evan was the easy brother. It was Andrew and Hayden you had to look out for. They would interrogate you relentlessly, or worse, squeeze the life out of you until you caved. Sighing deeply through your nose, you said, "I will ask if Harry has plans for that weekend. And that is it."
"See? That wasn't so hard!"
You rolled your eyes. "I'll talk to you later."
"You love me!" Evan called just before hanging up.
The call ended just as you pulled up to your apartment. You sat back with a huff, marveling at the strings your brother managed to pull from thousands of miles away. But deep down, you knew Evan was just looking out for you. After everything that happened eighteen months ago, he'd been keeping a close eye. As close an eye as he could all the way from New York. But that was how things worked between you and your brothers. You all looked out for each other, and your older brothers acted as personal security guards to any and everyone who so much as looked at you the wrong way. It was both endearing and very annoying.
Very annoying. Now you had to invite Harry to Thanksgiving. Evan was so going to get it.
*.*
On Saturday, you found yourself standing in front of your mirror longer than you normally would've. Harry had used the term "get-together" as a means to ease your nerves, but now that the dreaded day had come, you realized you weren't sure what that meant in terms of dress code. Was this thing laid-back? What if casual still meant dressy to Harry and his friends? Harry usually walked around the studio in jeans and faded t-shirts, but he was still a celebrity. He could see this as an opportunity to dress up.
You looked at all the clothes spread out in your room. You'd changed an embarrassing amount of times now, but nothing seemed fitting for the occasion. I could always text him, you thought, biting your nail as you surveyed the tornado of clothes around you. Harry had given you your number earlier this week so he could text you his address. You hadn't wanted to, as it would open the flood gates for conversation outside the studio, but you eventually gave it up when he stared blankly at you after offering your email as an alternative.
Before you could think too long about it, you picked up your phone and sent a quick text. Before you even had a chance to set it down, Harry sent a reply.
Harry S: We're just chilling at my house. Dress as comfortably as you'd like :))
Well, that wasn't helpful at all, you thought, but didn't say to Harry. You went back to rummaging through your pile of clothes, creating a spot for Buddy when he ambled into your bedroom from the kitchen. In the end, you settled on something simple: jeans, platform shoes, and a colorful fleece jacket over a plain shirt. It felt silly to have wasted so much time on your wardrobe when all you were doing was going to see Harry. And his friends. And that was...intimidating.
The anxiety of meeting Harry's friends, of meeting anyone new, crept through you. You didn't want to go and face the inevitability of disappointing them. Your track record with friends was pretty abysmal. But you found yourself kissing Buddy's head and promising you wouldn't be gone long, and then you were getting in your car and plugging in the address Harry had given you.
The music playing in your car calmed you some. Etta James' voice was both familiar and comfortable, welcome feelings as you pulled up to Harry's house. House was a bit of an understatement, though. Maybe a villa, or an estate. The LA version of those sprawling castles that were all over Europe. Your shoulders were tense as you cruised up the long driveway, though your anxiety eased a bit when you saw that had seen about as much life and mileage parked up front as yours did.
Music was playing inside the house, you could hear the trill of soft guitar and the low hum of a male voice from outside, and you worried if anyone would be able to hear you as you knocked on the door. Thankfully, you only stood on Harry's doorstep for a minute or two, then Harry's familiar grin greeted you.
"You made it!" Harry said, pulling you over the threshold and in for a quick side hug. He looked down at you for a moment, his cheeks flushed and green eyes bright, perhaps from drinking. He shook his head a little before pulling you further into the house. "Come in, come in, everyone is just through here."
Harry led you further into his home, giving you a chance to look around. Despite the grandeur of the outside, Harry's house was actually quite cozy and inviting. Everything was in warm tones, and potted plants and bookshelves piled high with a mix of books and records with titles you couldn't read from this distance. His house looked actually lived in, which couldn't be said for some of the other celebrity homes you'd been in. It didn't happen often as you preferred to work alone, but you occasionally dabbled in writing sessions with other artists. Their homes looked much more modern, and much more cold, than Harry's did.
"My home in London is much smaller," Harry said, noticing your craned neck. Then he shrugged, looking a little sheepish. "But I liked the look of this place. It reminded me of a house I go to in Italy most summers."
"It's beautiful," you said. "I've always wanted to go to Italy."
"You've never been?"
You shook your head, admiring the arch leading into an open kitchen. "I was supposed to go for—"
For my birthday, you couldn't bring yourself to say. Gavin had planned a summer trip to Italy for your birthday, but that never happened. You surprised yourself by revealing that much, and by the way Harry's eyes lit up, you'd taken him by surprise too.
But he didn't press you to finish your thought. He just smiled and led you further into the kitchen. "Come on. You need a drink."
Harry talked while he fixed up your drink. He'd tried to persuade you to take a shot of tequila with him, his eyebrows wiggling up and down, a look on his face that you'd seen one too many times on your brothers when they were trying to stir up trouble. You declined with a laugh, opting for a glass of wine instead. Maybe a boring choice, Harry definitely thought so as he teased by saying, "Booooring!" but you needed to be sharp, and tequila tended to have the opposite effect, so red wine it was.
"Everyone's through here. I hope you like games because Kid brought a new one over and everyone has become quite invested."
Games? Is that what Harry Styles did on his evenings off? Play board games with his friends? Before you could ask, Harry led you into his living room, where everyone was in fact sitting around a rather spacious coffee table, a board game and playing cards spread out around it. It was a small group of about five or six. For some reason you expected more people, even though Harry said otherwise. They were all talking amongst themselves, talking strategy, you presumed, as you recognized the game as one of those territory-winning ones.
All the talking stopped, however, when Harry introduced you to the group.
You felt their eyes on you, judging, picking you apart where you stood. You began to curl in on yourself, wilting at the attention. Involuntarily, you took a step back, but Harry's hand was on your lower back, warm and comforting against you. You should've pulled away, but you didn't, thankful for at least some kind of familiarity among all the new.
It had been so long since you'd had to meet new people in a non-professional setting. You'd met with producers and artists and other industry people all the time, but there was always a wall of professionalism between you and them. You knew how to navigate that space with ease, but here, where people were sitting on pillows and holding playing cards, where you stood as the outlier among what was clearly a tight-knit group, you felt very much like a fish out of water. A fish in space.
"H—Hello," you managed to say, giving everyone a small wave.
One person got up. A young woman with short brown hair, winged eyeliner marking the corners of her eyes. Her smile was surprisingly warm, but what had your eyes widening even more was when she pulled you in for a hug, squeezing tight.
"I'm Sylvia," she said. "It's so nice to finally meet you."
"Finally?"
You probably shouldn't have said that, but you weren't expecting such a warm welcome.
"Harry talks about you constantly. I swear sometimes he purposely keeps you from us."
"That is not—That is not true," Harry said, speaking to you for a moment. He sounded serious, but his eyes were filled with amusement as if he was used to Sylvia's teasing.
Everyone else introduced themselves, and you tried to keep a smile on your face as you committed their names to memory. They were all part of Harry's "team" except for Sylvia—writers, producers, musicians. "And you?" you asked her as she pulled you down to sit next to her. Sylvia had insisted you be on her team while you learned how to play. She seemed nice, eager to get to know you, but you didn't trust it. Not yet.
"I'm a full-time mom most days, and a part-time life coach to this one," Sylvia joked. She seemed too young to be a mother, but you supposed they came in all shapes and sizes. "But I'm Harry's nutritionist. And friend when he's not being a pain in the ass."
There was a wry grin on the young woman's face that told you she was fond of Harry, and fond of teasing him, if said grin grew when Harry said, "Hey," was anything to go by. It eased your mind a bit, her kindness and obvious fondness for Harry. She spoke animatedly as she caught you up on the rules of the game and gossip from her yoga class. "They're all in love with that one, of course. Can't take him anywhere," she said with a nod in Harry's direction.
When you agreed to join Harry tonight, you figured you would spend your time with him. But Sylvia kept you occupied most of the evening, and he and his friends were rather invested in the game. You were content to watch, enjoying the playful bickering and shouts of surprise and celebration. It was interesting to see how they all interacted with each other. Harry and his friends sat and drank around his coffee table while you nursed your drink, observing with the sweet feeling of nostalgia swimming through your veins.
"Y/n?"
You jumped in your spot on the floor, your wine sloshing around in your glass a little. Thankfully, nothing poured out. You would've been mortified if you'd spilled red wine all over Harry's most likely exorbitantly expensive carpet.
Eyes flicking to a man with short blond hair, you said, "Sorry?"
Kid, you were pretty sure his name was, asked his question again. "Did you first start writing here in LA?"
"Uh...no. Nashville, actually," you said. "I lived in Nashville for a while before moving out here. But I...grew up in a small town just outside."
"You never told me that," Harry said, sounding both intrigued and a little hurt that you'd never shared that with him before.
Emboldened by your near-empty glass, you said, "You never asked."
That earned a few chuckles and a raised brow from Harry as if he'd just accepted a challenge you hadn't meant to create. But you read that look in his eyes with ease. Any look was quite easy to read from Harry. He was expressive, an open book. He was going to take this as an opportunity to ask you all the questions he'd been witholding.
Throwing back the rest of your wine, you avoided his eye and ignored the excited flip in your belly.
*.*
If it wasn't for your dog, you were pretty sure you wouldn't be able to keep up with Harry Styles and his impossibly long gait.
He'd kept to his word, insisting that he join you on one of your walks with Buddy Holly. It wasn't until a few days after you went to his house for the first time, but one morning before you usually headed into the studio, he texted and asked if he could join you for your morning walk with your dog. It took some convincing, which really only meant a series of uninterrupted texts until you finally relented.
Buddy took to Harry immediately, of course, though that wasn't a surprise, seeing as your dog was friendly with everyone. But it meant a lot to you that he seemed to like Harry so much. Buddy was a rescue, and you couldn't imagine the awful things he'd been through before you'd given him a proper home.
Now he walked on the sidewalk excitedly, pulling you on his leash as his stubby tail waved around wildly. Harry walked beside you, his curly hair pulled back with a little black claw clip, some of it sticking up in a cute tuft. As he walked beside you, you took the opportunity to study him. There was a little scruff on his cheeks and jaw, creeping down the nape of his neck. His jaw was strong and angular, his cheekbones sharp. Harry really was beautiful. You understood why so many people went so crazy for him.
"See anything you like?"
Warmth flushed your cheeks as you quickly looked ahead, even if the damage was already done. Harry rarely, if ever, caught you staring at him, mostly because it didn't happen often. But in the last few weeks, you'd found yourself admiring him more and more. The movements he made with his hand as he told a story, the mischievous glint in his eye when he made you laugh, the way his arms moved beneath his shirt, how his lips curled around a smile. You cataloged each mannerism, each vocal inflection, and after just a few weeks following that night at his house with his friends, you felt like you knew him quite well.
Shrugging, you feigned nonchalance as your eyes darted back to Buddy, who had stopped to sniff a tree.
You could feel Harry's gaze on you, but you tried not to squirm. His gaze pricked your skin, making you feel things you absolutely shouldn't have been feeling. It was uncomfortable and exhilarating, and you didn't like how much you were warming up to him.
Used to your wordless answers, Harry moved on. "You're making me rethink my decision to get a cat."
"You decided, then?"
"I think I'm more of cat person," Harry said. "Well that, and I think I've found the one, but I'm worried about all the traveling."
"It can stay with me," you said, eyes widening when you did. But it was true, you realized. You were close enough to Harry to promise that kind of thing.
"Well, in that case," Harry said, and you finally looked over to him.
His grin was wide as he looked down at you, and though you couldn't see his eyes behind his sunglasses, you knew they were more than likely squinted with mirth. You liked that smile, you realized. It was uninhibited, full of warmth and good intentions. You wanted to trust it, to give in to the friendship Harry was offering.
But you couldn't. Harry didn't deserve the abysmal companionship you offered in return, and you felt bad for leading him along when you knew you'd eventually fuck things up. You always did.
Your phone buzzing thankfully pulled you away from your thoughts. Looking at it, you saw a text from your brother, Hayden. You think Laura will be cool with a few football players in her house for Thanksgiving? it said, and you shook your head as you typed a quick reply, a small grin spreading across your face.
Hayden was only going to be in town the day of Thanksgiving, as he had a game the day after. You didn't think he would make it at all, seeing how full his schedule usually was, but he managed to squeeze it in. Apparently his game wasn't too far from Evan's house. As long as he, and his teammates now, didn't drink too much, they would be just fine.
You: I don't think so. Laura might put y'all to work around the house though.
Hayden: Seems fair.
Hayden: Are YOU bringing anyone home?
Hayden: Because I can sit you next to one of my teammates.
Hayden: I take that back. Forget I said that. No teammate of mine is going near my sister.
Rolling your eyes, you stuffed your phone in your back pocket. Harry was looking at you with a curious gaze, and you scrambled to explain yourself. "My brother," you said. "Apparently he's inviting some of his football buddies to Thanksgiving this year."
"Does he play at university?" Harry asked. You could almost hear the eagerness in his voice at the opportunity to learn more about you, and while sharing in general made you squirm, your brothers were fairly easy to talk about.
"He did. He's in the NFL now."
"Oh nice You must be—Wait what's his name?"
"Hayden?"
Harry stopped walking for a moment. When you tried to stop too, Buddy protested, tugging the leash, and the wrist you had wrapped around it pulled uncomfortably. Murmuring a quick apology, Harry kept walking, keeping pace with your energetic puppy.
"Your brother is Hayden L/n?"
You nodded. "I'm guessing you've heard of him then?"
A bark of laughter slipped from Harry's lips. You'd never seen him so caught off guard before. It was strange, but also a relief to know that someone as steady as Harry wasn't so unflappable all the time.
Rubbing a hand over his mouth, he said, "I think everyone has heard of him. Any other famous brothers I should know about?"
"I don't know how you quantify fame, but my other brother is in the NHL. He plays for a team on the east coast."
Andrew was the youngest of your family. Despite that, he still considered himself your older brother, which had always been annoying growing up, especially when you were taller than him for a few years. He was rather sweet for someone so aggressive on the ice. He spent a lot of time with his mom, but was still close to you, Evan, and Hayden. It was hard not to be when you all shared the same deadbeat dad.
Outside of Evan, you probably talked to Andrew the most. You were the closest in age and grew up going to school together, and while his main focus was hockey, whenever he was in town, he'd go with you to concerts to see whatever indie band you were into or treat you to tickets to a show at the arena he played for.
"You have a third, right?" Harry asked, and you weren't even surprised that he remembered even though you were sure you'd only mentioned it once or twice.
"Evan. He's a lawyer in New York, but he lives in Connecticut with his wife and daughter," you said.
Now would be the perfect opportunity to invite Harry to Thanksgiving. You were looping back around on the trail, heading back to the park entrance where you'd met Harry this morning. Evan would pester you about it until you did, or worse, get Hayden and Andrew involved. You just had to throw it out there, be as casual as possible. Easy. You were all about being casual.
"So, um, he—Evan—he, um, said if I wanted I could invite a friend to Thanksgiving. If I wanted to."
"Oh yeah?" You weren't looking at him, but you could hear the grin in his voice.
Swallowing thickly as you willed your cheeks not to flush, you continued to look at Buddy as you spoke. "You probably already have plans, but I just thought I would ask if you wanted to come. Laura, Evan's wife, is a great cook, and it's usually pretty low-key until football gets turned on. But no offensive aunts or uncles or anything like that. Just us."
That was definitely too many words, but the amused look in Harry's eyes didn't feel antagonizing. "I would love to, but um, I already promised my mum I would go home that week."
"Oh." You didn't mean to sound disappointed. It was a good thing that Harry was going home to see his mother. And him meeting your brothers for the first time all at once probably would've scared him out of talking to you in the studio, so really it was for the best. It was for the best. "That's okay. You must be excited to go home. How long has it been?"
"London? Not too long, but I'm headed back to Manchester, and my mum has not been shy in letting me know that it's been too long since..."
You listened to Harry the rest of the walk back, trying to fight off the disappointment gnawing inside you that he'd said no. You didn't want that feeling in you. You wanted to be indifferent. It's for the best. You repeated it over and over until you convinced yourself it was true.
*.*
"You had a speech, you're speechless. Love slipped beyond your reaches. And I couldn't give a reason, Champagne problems."
You scribbled in your notebook, crossing out words from the original recording and replacing them with better ones. You hadn't planned to go back to this song. After recording it on your phone, you figured it wouldn't see the light of day again. But something kept bringing you back to it. So you worked on it between other projects, playing around with the lyrics and melody in small doses so that the past wouldn't overwhelm you.
Guilt seeped into your bones as you recalled what happened eighteen, almost nineteen, months ago. Sometimes you wished you could forget everything you'd done, but other times you decided being forced to remember was part of your penance for causing so much pain. Gavin was a good man. He was so kind and so smart, he didn't have a cruel bone in his body. And you'd taken his goodness, you'd welcomed all his kindness, and crushed it in your hands.
Wiping away a tear, you shut your notebook definitively. Your session in the studio was far from over, but you were done for the day.
On your way out, you kept your head down, not wanting anyone to see your watery eyes. You could feel the tears building, and you hoped you could at least make it to your car before you turned into a mess. It was so hard sometimes. Some days you felt great. You would write good songs, take Buddy for a walk and teach him a new trick, you would get coffee with Harry and laugh, and everything would be fine. But then there were days where the mere thought of the past sent you careening off course, leaving you with nothing but the intrusive thoughts you thought you'd learned how to keep at bay.
Today happened to be one of those days, and you hoped you could escape and wallow in self-pity unnoticed. But before you could even make it to the elevator, you bumped into something solid and warm. Arms wrapped around you to hold you steady before you could spring back, and against your better judgment, you looked up, an apology poised on your lips.
"Y/n, are you okay? What's wrong?"
You should've known that you would be unlucky enough to run into Harry on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Blinking rapidly, you shook your head and stepped out of his grasp, though that didn't make you feel any better. "I'm fine."
"You can talk to me," Harry insisted. His brows furrowed with concern, but he didn't come any closer. There was a bag slung over his shoulder and a hat covering up his hair, with only a few stray curls sticking out beneath it. He looked like he was just going into the studio for a session.
"I'm fine, I promise," you lied, not wanting to be the reason he was late for studio time. "I'm just leaving for the day."
You tried to step around Harry, but his hands fell down on your shoulders. His gaze burned, but you couldn't make yourself look him in the eye. You knew the moment you saw the sympathy swimming in them you'd burst into tears.
"Please let me go," you said, but it came out as more of a squeak, your voice breaking on the last word.
To your surprise, Harry did, and even though that was what you'd asked for, what you wanted, you somehow felt worse. Shuffling around him, you mumbled a quick goodbye and bypassed the elevator, not wanting to wait awkwardly for it to come up while he was still in the hall. It wasn't until you finally got in your car that you let everything out, all the guilt and loneliness and self-loathing that you kept bottled up regularly.
So often you were able to pretend the past didn't exist. But then there were days where you were almost slapped in the face by the consequences of your actions. Negative thoughts followed you all the way home and into your bed. Not even hiding under the covers kept you from feeling everything all at once. Your mind spun as you thought of Gavin, of his elated grin crumpling into a look of betrayal as you told him you were ending it.
You remembered every detail from that night. The brand of Champagne Gavin bought for the would-be occasion, the woodsy cologne he wore, the looks on his friends' and family's faces as you hurried down the stairs to leave the party, unable to bear their shame and disapproval, or the heart you'd broken on the landing in his family's mansion.
You didn't know he was going to propose until mere moments before it happened. You had only been seeing Gavin for a few months, and things were good. He made you happy, and you liked having someone to go through life with. He liked to shower you with expensive gifts, for no other reason than to show you he cared and because he could. You didn't have the same kind of wealth he or his family did, not even with the substantial amount of money you made as a successful songwriter. But you'd write him poems and leave them places you knew he'd find them and looped your arm through his at company parties. Things were good.
Every year, Gavin's family hosted a Christmas party, and last year was the first time you'd been invited. You hadn't wanted to go, mostly because in the two weeks leading up to the party, you realized you weren't in the same place Gavin was emotionally, and you weren't sure you ever would be. But Gavin insisted, promising it would be fun and he wouldn't abandon you to his family, who had been nothing but cold since the moment he'd introduced them to you. So you went, sipping on Champagne in a glass made of crystal and wondering if the guilty pit at the bottom of your stomach would ever stop growing.
It was a couple hours into the party when you'd stumbled on a conversation between Gavin's mother and sister, one that made your blood run cold with dread.
"Did Gav really ask you for your ring?" his sister asked.
His mother nodded gravely. "He wants to do it tonight."
"What? That's ridiculous! They've barely been together a year!"
"I'm sure she would make a lovely bride, she's beautiful, I'll give her that," his mother conceded, but you could hear the disdain in her voice loud and clear. "It's just a shame that she's—"
"Fucked in the head?"
"Larissa! Language!"
"What? She is! She's a total basket case, and everyone can see it but him. She'll never make him happy. How could she? Putting a ring on it doesn't change a thing. Gavin would have a psych patient, not a wife. He deserves better."
The rest of the night was a blur, but you knew you couldn't wait. You didn't want to break up with Gavin on the night of his family's Christmas party, but if he was going to propose, you couldn't let him. The hurt would be so much worse if you had to slide the ring off your finger a week or two after the proposal.
Gavin called you for weeks afterward, begging you to help him understand. His family did too, and his friends, people you considered friends as well, but it was clear once there was a line drawn in the sand where everyone stood, and they didn't have any trouble letting you know how horrible you were for doing what you did. Sometimes when you let yourself get angry, you wondered why Gavin's mother and sister, or any of them really, were so aggressive about your break up. They'd never wanted you to be with him in the first place, and even though they'd gotten their wish, they still called you a heartless monster.
But above all that, Gavin's messages made the deepest cut. He sounded so devastated in each voicemail. And at first, all he wanted was to talk, to somehow work it all out as if it was one big misunderstanding. I know my family can be a lot, but I love you so much, he'd said in a text. We can go to Italy like we'd planned. Elope. Buy a little cottage and just start a new life somewhere else. Please, Y/n. Talk to me. I love you.
Messages like those were the toughest pills to swallow. You knew Gavin loved you, you never doubted that for a moment. The problem was you didn't feel the same. You didn't know why. You cared for Gavin a lot, and in the beginning, you had all those giddy, initial relationship feelings, but they never developed beyond that. And when you noticed Gavin's feelings growing more and more each day while yours didn't, you started to panic.
But it was when those messages turned angry, hateful even, that hurt the most. It was what you deserved after what you'd done, but to know that you'd turned one of the gentlest souls you knew into a spiteful one killed you almost as much as stopping him from getting down on one knee had.
In the midst of all your crying and hyperventilating, your phone buzzed. Wiping your eyes and nose, you lifted your phone to your face, squinting at the bright light.
Harry S: I know you probably want space, but I'm here for you xx
You shouldn't be, was your first thought, but all you texted back was, Just a bad day that's all.
Harry's response was almost immediate, as if he was waiting around for your reply.
Harry S: Well, if you ever need a friend, you know where to find me :))
You sighed, feeling another wave of tears overwhelm you. The pressure of friendship weighed heavily on your chest. All you could offer was disappointment, and you couldn't stomach the thought of letting someone like Harry down. He was too good a person to be your friend. All you could offer him was disappointment and pain. You were toxic, and better off left alone.
You: We're not friends. I don't want to be your friend so just leave me alone.
*.*
Weeks went by and you were positively miserable. Thanksgiving came and went, and even your brothers could sense not to pry about your sour mood. Evan tried to get you alone, but you didn't want to talk. You didn't want to explain how you'd fucked things up so royally. Again. You didn't want his sympathy, or Hayden's promise to fight anyone who hurt you, or Andrew's cheesy jokes to lift your spirits. What you wanted had been all the way in England and had been giving you the cold shoulder. Just like you'd asked.
Harry stopped saying hi to you at the studio, which hurt more than you thought it would. In the grand scheme of things, you hadn't known him very long, but seeing him in the hallway and watching him purposely avoid you felt awful. You only had yourself to blame, but you thought it was better to let him down early on than further down the line. You couldn't have another Gavin situation on your hands.
But this felt entirely different. Even though you'd only spoken to Harry for a month, his absence from your life was more poignant than you expected it to be. When you ended things with Gavin, you felt guilty for hurting him, but ultimately, there was a sense of relief that you weren't leading him on, that crushing weight of his family's disapproval on your chest lifted. Breaking up with Gavin was hard, but it was the right thing to do for you, there was no doubt in your mind about that.
But this thing with Harry...you'd pushed him away when you were feeling vulnerable. A preemptive measure for the both of you, but there was no relief, no justifiable sense of rightness in your gut in the days following.
Part of you wanted to reach out to him and apologize, but you worried he hated you now and didn't know how to bridge the gap you created between the two of you.
Opportunity struck when you overheard a conversation between Harry and...Mitch. you were pretty sure that was Mitch from that night at Harry's house. It was about a week after you came back from your brother's house, and all three of them were constantly calling or texting despite their busy schedules. You wouldn't have put it past any of them to have set up times to routinely check in on you. It warmed your heart some, but nothing would feel right until you fixed things with Harry. Pushing him away had been a mistake, you saw that now. You'd done it in a moment when you were at your lowest, and that wasn't fair to either of you.
"I'm sorry, mate," Harry said to Mitch. "I didn't even think to ask if you were allergic before adopting a cat. I feel like an idiot now."
So he went ahead with his plan to get a pet, then. The thought made you smile, but you held it in. You were pressed into the corner of the elevator up to the studio. Harry was definitely aware of your presence, but he hadn't acknowledged you. Mitch gave you an awkward wave, but that was somehow worse.
"No worries, man," Mitch said now, stepping out of the elevator with Harry. He was in a white t-shirt and a light brown cardigan today, his curly brown hair looking beautifully windswept. You refused to think about the current state of your hair, which was hiding beneath a blue baseball cap. "I'll just have to—"
You never found out what Mitch would have to do because they rounded a corner of the hallway, leaving you alone outside the elevator. Quickly scurrying into your usual studio, you sat down at the grand piano, letting the smooth keys cool your sweaty palms. You felt breathless, but it wasn't the usual anxiety-ridden breathlessness you were used to. This felt different, your heart speeding up at the thought of Harry's broad shoulders beneath his sweater.
"Pull yourself together, Y/n," you told yourself.
The damage was done—once again, at your hands, but you couldn't help that right this second. Right now you had work to do.
The next day, you did something you didn't normally do—venture outside of your studio. Since working in the building, you'd never thought to explore the other rooms, to introduce yourself or make friends the way Harry had with you. As you walked down the long hallway of closed and half-open doors, you wondered who was behind them, what kind of projects were being worked on right now.
Most importantly, you wanted to know which door Harry sat behind.
After a day of writing, of trying to lean into more positive feelings, the small hope you had for a brighter future. You left the studio feeling lighter after another introspective session. There'll be happiness after you, but there was happiness because of you, both of these things can be true, you'd written, forming your thoughts around a melody that was both somber and hopeful. That moment when you'd pushed Harry away was the lowest you'd felt in a while, but you didn't want to feel that way anymore. All Harry had been asking for was friendship. You could do friendship, in fact, you craved it.
So now you were trying to make things right with Harry, or at least apologize for your rude text. He'd only ever been incredibly kind to you, and you'd treated him like garbage.
You came across a door that was partially open, laughter filtering out and reaching you in the hallway. Harry's voice was mixed among them, and hearing him laugh filled you with butterflies. Going to his studio suddenly felt like a mistake. You didn't want to bring down his mood, especially if it would affect his writing for the day.
But you finally worked up the courage to knock on the open door. You'd already made it this far. The knock immediately sobered up everyone inside the studio, and you waited outside with your gift bag clutched in your hands. One of Harry's friends appeared, eyes widening when he saw you there.
"Y/n," he said. "It's good to see you."
You couldn't tell if he was pleased to see you or not, and nerves slowly began to creep in.
"I—I won't take up too much of your time, I know y'all are probably busy," you said. "I just, um, could you give this to Harry, please?"
You shoved the bag in the man's direction, forcing him to take it. "You can come in. He's just inside—"
"No, it's okay. I should probably get back to it. So, uh, see you."
You turned and fled, heat flooding your cheeks. Honestly, you were surprised you made it that far. You figured your courage would fizzle out before knocking on the studio door.
Settling back in your studio, you pulled out your journal and phone out of your bag, and opened up to a fresh page to work on a new song. On the way into work this morning, your agent pitched you an opportunity to write for an up-and-coming artist. "Something light, Y/n," she'd said, knowing you'd been writing mostly sad, break-up songs recently. "If it doesn't work out, then it doesn't work out, but at least try. You've always liked to challenge yourself."
So you were putting away the Champagne problems for now and channeling your happiest thoughts. You even brought your computer to stream romantic comedies while you worked for some additional inspiration.
You were halfway through When Harry met Sally when that inspiration finally struck. Lighter, happier words finally filled your journal, a rare, but not completely uncommon occurrence. You'd written love songs in the past, both before and while you were with Gavin. But surprisingly, Gavin wasn't who came to mind, nor was it the characters in the movie on your computer.
You thought of Harry's smile, his flushed cheeks after he'd had a couple drinks, his green eyes that seemed to sparkle when he laughed. Did you have a crush on him? You weren't entirely sure, maybe you just admired his goodness. And, okay fine, his unfair amount of good looks too. But you tried not to focus too long on who exactly inspired you, just on making sure the words kept flowing onto the page.
Perhaps you should've expected Harry to stop by, but you hadn't. His voice startled you, your eyes having been glued to the screen of your computer as the final scene of Roman Holiday played out in front of you. It had always been one of your favorites, and you decided that a brain break was needed as the final third of the film rolled around.
"What's this?"
No matter how many times you'd seen it, the ending never failed to bring tears to your eyes. Seeing the glisten of tears in Gregory Peck's eyes as he stared longingly at Audrey Hepburn's, knowing they loved each other but could never be together was heartbreaking. It had been the most tragic thing you'd ever experienced when you first watched it as a girl, and it hadn't even happened to you.
It was those tears now that you wiped away, a warmth creeping up your cheeks because this was the second time Harry had caught you crying. How embarrassing.
Looking up, you saw the gift bag in one hand, the other in his pocket as he stared at you blankly. No warmth or his usual smile, but he wasn't glaring at you, either. He just looked indifferent, and that didn't sit well with you at all.
"I...I overheard you and Mitch talking about your cat and his allergies, and I'd heard of this stuff that you can use on your pets to help people who are allergic to animals."
You'd gone out and bought it after leaving the studio the day you'd overheard the conversation between Mitch and Harry. It was your version of an olive branch, a way to express your guilt after taking Harry's friendship and throwing it in his face. You were his friend, and you wanted him to know it.
It probably seemed silly to hide behind a gift instead of saying something, considering your profession. But confrontation was almost as terrifying as love was, it was part of the reason why you only wrote songs and didn't perform them.
Harry scoffed, and it looked like he couldn't decide between laughing or rolling his eyes. "No, I know what this is, I'm asking why you gave it to me. Or not me, to my friend and then scurried back over here."
"I'm sorry about that, about everything," you said, shutting your laptop and shifting in your chair. "I was...I haven't been in the best place for some time now. It's not an excuse for how I treated you that day. You caught me in a bad moment and I lashed out."
"Thank you for apologizing," he said, his voice cool and even. You desperately wanted to know what he was thinking. What he saw when he looked at you. "Do you want to grab coffee? Maybe we can talk?"
The thought of being open and honest in the way that he was suggesting was daunting, but Harry deserved your honesty. "Sure. Let me just pack up my things."
Harry waited for you by the door as you packed your bag, jotting a couple notes down in your journal before putting it away. Your hands shook a little as you approached him, excitement swelling in your belly despite the anxiety you felt at the prospect of having to talk about things you preferred to leave in the recesses of your mind. But it felt good to see Harry again, to walk beside him and head to your favorite coffee house.
Neither of you said anything on the short walk over, and even after you placed your orders, you remained quiet. When your name was called out alongside Harry's to grab your drinks, you knew it was time to find a table, but you stayed rooted to your spot in front of the counter.
It was Larissa. Gavin's sister. She was standing next to the other end of the counter where baristas called out and dropped off orders. There was a moment when she didn't see you, and you thought you could make a break for it, even if that meant leaving Harry high and dry. But even if you wanted to, you were frozen in place, and when Larissa's gaze finally landed on you, you felt her glare even from a short distance.
"Y/n?" Harry asked, both drinks in his hands. "What's—"
"Y/n! How good to see you!"
Larissa's kind smile was anything but. You'd never trusted Gavin's sister. From the moment you met her, you knew to be wary of her, and after everything that happened, you were sure nothing good was going to come out of this interaction.
"H—Hi, Larissa. How are you?" you said, trying your best not to look at Harry, who had a quizzical look on his face.
"Oh, I'm just fabulous. I've just spent the last year healing my brother's broken heart, which you broke like it was nothing," Larissa said. "He's great, by the way. Finally came to his senses and realized what a God-awful mess you were. He realized all of us were better off without you."
Then, before you could even make sense of what was happening, a rush of cold washed over you. At first, you thought it was merely a visceral reaction to the confrontation, but Harry's, "What the fuck?" made you think twice.
Looking down, you realized Larissa had poured her drink on your sweater. Shock left you blinking at Gavin's sister, tears welling in your eyes. With shaking hands, you held the ruined sweater in your hands, then back to Larissa. "Wh—Why—"
"That's for my brother, slut."
"That's enough," Harry said, voice harder and colder than you'd ever heard him before. Even when he was upset with you at the studio, he never sounded this angry. Gently gripping your elbow, he turned you around. You hardly noticed the flashing of cameras aimed in your direction. All you could really process was Larissa's smirk and the iced coffee dripping off you onto the coffee house's floor.
When you were finally outside and a block down the road, Harry pulled you down an alley where you could have a moment of privacy. He pulled his sweater over his head and offered it to you in a bundle. You quietly murmured your thanks and took it from him, slipping it over your head. The plain black sweater was warm and smelled like him—like laundry detergent and expensive cologne. It would've been the kind of thing to flood your senses if shame hadn't currently encompassed every fiber of your being.
"I'm sorry you had to see that," you said when you felt like you could speak without your voice trembling.
"You don't have to apologize for what happened, Y/n," Harry said. He gently rested his hand on your shoulder. "Are you okay?"
"I think so."
You couldn't look him in the eye, not while your iced coffee-ridden sweater was now ruining his, not while he kept looking at you with such pity. You could feel it down to your toes, and it made you want to curl up in a ball and never get out of bed. But Harry deserved an explanation. At the very least, he deserved to know who he associated himself with.
"I should explain—"
"You don't have to," Harry insisted.
"I want to," you said, believing the words as you said them. You weren't sure what you would've done if Harry hadn't been with you a few minutes ago. His brows were still furrowed with concern, his thumb rubbing circles into your shoulder. His sweater layered over yours created a pretty thick barrier, but you could feel his touch as if he was caressing your skin. "We can, um, we can go back to my place."
Thankfully, Harry didn't protest, just nodded quietly. The walk back to the studio was completely silent, leaving you alone with your thoughts until it was time to part ways. He got in his car and followed you home, silently following you up the steps to your apartment, a comfortable little one-bedroom twenty minutes from the studio.
Buddy was at the door when you unlocked it, tail wagging and tongue lolling to the side of his mouth happily. He greeted you first, then Harry, who he tried with all his might to knock over by getting up on his hind legs and resting on your guest. "Buddy! Down!" you hissed, frantically holding onto your dog's collar. Harry laughed and waived you off, surprising you by lifting Buddy up into his arms. Both boys were perfectly content, and the image of your friend holding your dog in your apartment was enough to lift your spirits the tiniest bit. A small smile crept onto your face, and Harry's grin widened when he saw it.
"Nice place," Harry commented, spinning around in a slow circle as he looked around.
"Thanks." Your apartment was small, but it was in a nice neighborhood and close to the beach. You made just enough in royalties to be comfortable in a little one bedroom. "Definitely different from my place in Nashville."
Harry nodded mildly before setting Buddy back down on the floor, admiring the colorful furniture that took up the space in your living room. Shivering a little, you looked down at yourself, reminded of your coffee-soaked clothes.
"There are treats in the pantry," you said, setting your things down on the kitchen counter and nodding to the pantry in question. "I'm just going to get changed so I can wash your sweater."
Harry nodded, but he seemed content to play with Buddy and look around your apartment, and your dog seemed perfectly happy to never walk on four legs ever again.
You tried to make quick work of changing, not wanting to keep Harry waiting too long. But you gave yourself a minute or two to calm down and process everything that had happened in the last hour. Even though it was horribly embarrassing, you were glad Harry had been there. He'd been a calming presence throughout, and you could only hope that would continue as you explained why you'd pushed him away.
*.*
"I...I didn't want to hurt you," you said, looking down at where your hands were knotted in your lap. "I just...I don't have a very good track record with relationships. Of any kind. I didn't want you to be one of the people I ruined."
Harry had been surprisingly quiet while you explained everything. And by everything, you meant everything. From Gavin to the Christmas party and what you'd heard to the would-be proposal. You told him about that song you'd written a couple weeks ago and how it brought all that emotion to the forefront of your memory and that it led you to push Harry away. He hadn't said much, asking you a few questions here and there; but for the most part, he let you speak uninterrupted, and you were surprised at how you continued to fill the silence, not once feeling uncomfortable. Perhaps a little ashamed after explaining how badly you'd hurt Gavin, but you never felt discomfort telling Harry any of it.
"Y/n, I—" Harry began to say before pausing. Looking up at him, you saw his brows furrowed, a look of consternation on his face. You waited for the blow, the one that eventually led him to leave you friendless once and for all. "I don't think you're a bad person for breaking up with him. I can't imagine that kind of hurt, sure, but if you didn't love him, you did the right thing. Do you—Do you seriously believe you're fucked in the head? Or that you ruin people?"
He was referencing the song you'd written, and you flushed bright red at the idea of him hearing more of the song than you would've liked. Shrugging, you gave him the truth. It didn't seem fit to lie when you'd bared your soul to him. "I don't know."
You could tell that answer didn't sit right with Harry. His frown deepened, and you desperately wanted to see him smile again. "Y/n, everyone makes mistakes in relationships, and even then I don't think you did anything wrong in that moment. Was it unfortunate timing? Maybe, but I don't think you should punish yourself for it anymore. In fact, I think what you did was brave."
"What?"
Smiling, Harry took your hand in his. It was warm, and his long fingers curled around your hand with ease. On any other day, you would've pulled back, but after sharing so much with him, this felt good. It felt right.
"I said what you did was brave," he said again. "You didn't love him, but you could've accepted the proposal and stayed with him. And then what? Leave him at the altar? Stay in a loveless marriage? It was hard, but you did the right thing for you and Gavin. I'm sure even he would come to understand that one day. Have you tried talking to him?"
You shook your head. "He hates me now."
"I don't think anyone could really hate you, Y/n," Harry said quietly, a blush crawling up his cheeks as if he hadn't meant to say that out loud. "I know you might disagree, but I think you might feel a lot better about all of this if you talked to him."
"His family—"
"Fuck his family. Gavin is a grown man who can think for himself," Harry said. "If he can't separate their wrong opinions from his own thoughts, then he's an idiot who never deserved you anyway."
You laughed a little at the first half of what he said. It felt nice to know that someone was on your side. Squeezing Harry's hand, you said, "Thank you."
"For what?"
"For listening, for being a good friend when I maybe didn't deserve it. Evan's the only person I talked to about this, and even then I didn't explain everything," you said. Evan had been on your side, but it didn't really count to you. He was your brother. He had to be on your side. "I just don't have the best track record when it comes to hurting people, you know?"
Your eyes had fallen to your hand, which was still curled around his, but to your surprise, Harry's other one lifted your chin to meet his gaze. With wide eyes, you looked at him, heart beating a little wilder in your chest when you saw the look on his face. His expression was wide open, earnest and endearing, and filled with...something you weren't ready to see yet. But it filled you with warmth, and for the first time in a long time, you really believed that you didn't have to be alone.
"I don't think you'll hurt me," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
His hand pushed a strand of your hair away from your face, tucking it behind your ear. The movement made your breath hitch, lips parting as you tried to decide what Harry was going to do next, what you wanted him to do next. He seemed like he was waiting for something too, and his gaze was finally too much, like he could see your soul and was currently shuffling through every little thing you longed for and were afraid of. It was heavy with emotion, and you weren't ready for it.
"You should probably get going soon," you said, rising, with great difficulty, to your feet and putting some distance between yourself and Harry. A frown on Harry's face appeared, and you quickly explained yourself. "Your cat. You probably should head home and feed her."
Before you and Harry sat down to talk about...everything, he briefly mentioned his new kitten, Sweet Pea. "It was the name she already had when I adopted her, and it didn't feel right to change it, though sometimes she's not so sweet." She was a fluffy Ragdoll cat that was apparently quite the diva, and Harry proudly showed off picture after picture, claiming he was already in love with his new furry companion.
Now though, Harry's eyes widened as if he hadn't even thought about his new kitten since being here. "Right. Good call. I'll see you tomorrow?"
You nodded as you watched him gather his things. "I'll return the sweater tomorrow."
"Don't worry about it," he said with a dismissive wave of his hand.
You walked Harry to the door to see him out. He crossed the threshold but paused before heading down to his car. You couldn't read the look that crossed his face, but his lingering gave you one last opportunity to take him all in. The muscles in his arms bulged beneath the white t-shirt he wore, and his hair had grown a tad longer since you'd spoken to him last, now curling around the nape of his neck and touching the collar of his shirt. Harry was taller than you, but not by much, though standing this close, it felt like he was a whole foot taller as you craned your neck to look at him.
Then, before you could ask if he'd forgotten something, he leaned forward. It took you a moment to realize what he'd done, but the lingering traces of heat on your forehead helped. He'd kissed you. On the forehead.
"See you tomorrow!"
Harry was gone in a flash, leaving you standing at the front door of your apartment with an open mouth as you tried to decide what his forehead kiss meant. To you, it felt sisterly, and you couldn't help the disappointment that swirled in your gut. You quickly pushed that feeling away, closing the door on whatever happened just then.
*.*
For the next few weeks, everything felt like it was back to normal. Better than normal, even. Despite the awkwardness you felt at having to see Harry after the odd forehead kiss, Harry acted like it never happened, which you were thankful for. You wouldn't have known what to say if he'd brought it up. Or tried to do it again.
But it became clear, despite the teeny tiny budding feelings you might have had for him, that he merely saw you as a friend. After your long talk with him at your apartment, Harry began showing you some of the work he'd been doing in his own studio down the hall from yours. It appeared he was getting over a break up too, though you never would've guessed by how cheerful he was most days. He still was, even as he explained a little about his most recent relationship, and you realized that while you hid your true emotions behind a wall, he might've been hiding behind his happy disposition. It made you want to dig deeper, to see what lay beneath all that "fineness."
As you spent more time with Harry, you also began hanging out with his friends. The first time you returned to his house for another game night, everyone seemed genuinely happy to see you, namely Sylvia. "I'm so glad you're spending more time with H," she'd said that night. "I love him to death but he's a clingy motherfucker when he's lonely."
That thought made you laugh. You recalled a conversation you'd had with Harry a while back when he'd said his friends were "disgustingly in love." He seemed like the kind of guy who loved love, but you also didn't want Sylvia, or any of his friends, to get the wrong idea.
"Oh I don't—I mean we're not—I don't think he sees me that way."
That wasn't how you wanted to explain yourself, seeing as you weren't even sure if you saw him that way. But Sylvia must have seen your flushed cheeks and understood your floundering because she smiled at you warmly.
"I think this calls for a girl's day. What do you think?"
"Oh. Um..." You didn't expect any of Harry's friends to want to hang out with you one on one, but you'd been leaning into trying new things lately. And girl's day? You grew up with three brothers, the last time you had anything resembling that was a tea party Hayden and Evan threw for you when you were six. "Sure. I could meet you for lunch this week if you'd like."
"Lunch sounds perfect."
A couple days passed until you had Buddy on his leash, walking down to the cafe you and Sylvia agreed on. You were a little nervous, but mostly excited. It had been a while since you'd hung out casually with a friend—you weren't counting Harry—and while you'd grown accustomed to the loneliness, you couldn't help but acknowledge that it felt nice to talk to someone other than your dog.
"Okay," Sylvia said once the waiter walked away with your orders. She'd held off asking about Harry, but now the time had come. "Hit me. What did Harold do?"
"Nothing," you said, perhaps a little too quickly. When Sylvia pinned you with a stare, you looked down at your glass of water. "He just...He gave me a kiss? On the forehead? And I don't know, it just read very...brotherly."
Sylvia sighed, which at the very least vindicated your feelings. It wasn't like you wanted anything more, but the whole thing left you feeling confused. A cheek kiss would've been easier to navigate, but the forehead? It left Y/n thinking about Harry more than she should've.
"Okay, I can see where you might be confused by that, but as someone with a brother, I can confidently say they don't do shit like that."
You weren't sure what you expected her to say, or what you even wanted her to say, but it wasn't that. Sylvia knew Harry fairly well, so it was safe to say that she was telling the truth, you just weren't ready to accept what she was implying.
"I do too, and I know the last thing I would expect from any of my brothers is a kiss on the forehead, but I don't know," you said, trying to remain as neutral as possible knowing Sylvia could report back to Harry. This whole thing was starting to feel very grade school-esque.
"Just know that Harry's a pretty open guy, but he's been burned in the past so he might be a little closed off or not be as inclined to make the first move," Sylvia said, though in some ways it sounded like a warning. "He's the greatest guy you'll ever meet, and whatever you decide, just be gentle, okay?"
It was hard to imagine someone as positive and happy as Harry having a dark past, but it sounded like there was a lot more than what met the eye as far as he was concerned. It was honestly a little comforting to know that he wasn't perfect. You were such a mess sometimes it seemed unfair that people wandered through life seemingly unscathed. You knew that was rarely ever the case, but sometimes it was hard to remember when guys like Harry walked around embracing life and had smiles for every occasion.
"I will," you promised, and you meant it. You were pretty sure nothing was going to happen between you and Harry, but you could appreciate Sylvia looking out for her friend. As nice as she had been to you so far, she was Harry's friend first. Her words made you wonder if you would ever have friends so fiercely loyal to you.
After that lunch with Sylvia, the weeks began to pass by in a blur. There were days when you saw Harry frequently, and then you wouldn't see him at all. He would show up at your studio to get coffee—at a new coffee shop, of course—you stopped by his to bring him and his friends baked goods, and sometimes you would end the night at one another's houses, a bottle of wine and takeout split between the two of you. You weren't dating, at least you wouldn't categorize whatever it was that you were doing as dating, but it felt nice to have someone in your life consistently again, and you liked that Harry was that person even more.
That didn't mean you couldn't read the signs. Sometimes Harry's gaze would linger when he thought you didn't notice, or he would sit a lot closer than was maybe necessary when you hung out with his friends. Sometimes his hand would brush yours as you watched a movie as if he wanted to hold it, and yours would brush back encourgingly, and then suddenly you were holding hands. To anyone else, it might have appeared confusing—in fact, Sylvia had vocalized her confusion over the non-relationship you and Harry were engaging in—but for you, not acknowledging what was happening and not putting any labels or definitions on this thing happening between the two of you was somehow easier to swallow. And since Harry seemed to be following your lead, he didn't say anything to object.
It was around Christmastime that things began to change. You'd spent your morning writing a song for an artist's Christmas album, a feat you'd managed to avoid in the past. But since you'd worked with the artist before and liked the vision she had for this album, you decided to at least try to write a holiday song. It wasn't necessarily that you disliked Christmas or the holidays, you were just indifferent to the season in question, and after everything that transpired two years ago now, you just never felt like celebrating much.
Harry Styles, however, was a huge fan of Christmas. his studio was decked out with lights and garlands, he got him and Sweet Pea matching sweaters, which you weren't entirely sure if he knitted or not, and he'd been bugging you since Thanksgiving to come over to decorate cookies. He'd finally worn you down and you were going over later tonight, but not before putting in a couple hours at the studio, which turned into sitting in on one of Harry's sessions.
It didn't happen often, but you did like seeing the team approach to writing songs as opposed to your usual solitary method. For the most part, you watched as Harry bounced ideas off his friends, observing as they focused on one chord progression or verse until something else stole their attention away. It was a bit chaotic, but everyone in the room seemed to be having fun.
It was in the middle of a heated debate between another fun, upbeat song or beginning to work on a ballad when the melody came to you. It was just piano chords, and had you been in your own studio, you would've immediately sat down to play it and see where it went. But this wasn't your studio, and it wasn't your session, and while you knew no one would've minded hearing your input, you felt nervous all of a sudden, self-conscious.
So instead, you pulled some blank sheet music out and began to scribble, writing as quickly as possible before the melody escaped you. The melody had taken up so much space in your head that everything else faded away. You envisioned arrangements, themes, a line or two sprouting as you wrote down the next note. Something sad and somber, the exact opposite of what Harry had been pushing for since he entered the studio.
"What am I now?" you wrote on the back of the sheet music. You didn't know how it would fit, but it would. You could tinker with the words later, so long as all your thoughts were written down somewhere, you would find a way to make it happen.
"What are you working on over there?"
Harry was suddenly at your side, and when he peeked over your shoulder, you didn't try to hide your frenzied notes. You handed them over, unsure if he even read sheet music. "It was just a thought I had. I can play it for you if you'd like?"
"Please," Harry said, gesturing to the piano in the corner of the room. It was then that you realized that everyone else had left the room at some point or another. At your questioning glance, Harry explained. "Ten minute break, but it felt like you were onto something...And I figured you'd be more willing to share if it wasn't in front of a group."
"Thank you," you said, those pesky butterflies swirling around in your stomach. They seemed to appear any time Harry so much as smiled at you. "It's just a melody, really, but maybe you can use it for something.
You sat down at the piano, eyes widening when Harry sat down beside you. Shaking it off, you focused on the piano, the keys cool and smooth to the touch, a familiar feeling that felt nice among such a different work setting. You explained your thought process to Harry a little bit, telling him the direction you hoped the song would go in and possible arrangements for it and whatnot. Harry, who apparently knew you better than you thought he did, nudged you with his elbow and encouraged you to play, knowing that you were stalling.
It wasn't that you were unsure of yourself or your talent. You knew you were good at what you did. You'd collaborated on multiple albums and worked with many well-known artists and bands, or artists who were just breaking out onto the scene and did so with the help of your songwriting. The difference here was that you normally didn't play an idea for anyone until it was fully realized. You typically sent over demos and typed up lyrics, and Harry would be one of the first to hear something that you'd only just come up with. Besides Buddy, but he didn't really count.
Taking a deep breath, you began to play, letting the chords you'd only just come up with pull your focus. After having played through it a couple times, you looked over at Harry, who had a faraway look in his eyes, an idea of his own forming in his head, perhaps.
"It's fairly simple, but I think that's what's rather beautiful about it," you said while still playing. "Sometimes you don't need much to get a response from someone, and I think a melody like this really allows an artist to shine, you know? Whether that's through their lyrics, or their vocal range, or both. And obviously it can be changed to a different key, this is just the one I wrote down, but...yeah, that's what I've got."
You finally stopped playing to hear Harry's opinion, though you wished you hadn't. Now your hands didn't really know what to do, and it took a lot of effort to keep them knotted together in your lap. Harry still looked pensive, as if he hadn't even heard your rambling, though now you were even more curious to know what he thought.
"Harry?"
Blinking, Harry turned toward you, his knee bumping against yours on the piano bench. His eyes cleared up as he remembered he wasn't alone in the studio. "Hm? Sorry, just thinking."
Offering him your pen and a fresh page in your journal, you said, "Did you maybe want to write it down?"
After that, you and Harry wrote hundreds of songs together. At least it felt like a hundred songs. Whether it was in the studio, or at each other's homes—mainly his because he had a home studio and a guest room for when sessions went too long—the two of you were almost always writing together. It wasn't always for his album, either. Sometimes Harry would help you with projects you were working on for other artists, or you would just write songs for the sake of writing them.
And it just worked. It felt like you and Harry just clicked. He was able to vocalize what you were trying to say to his producer, and you knew what he was thinking before he said it or the sound he was going for based off a couple descriptors. You'd never known someone so intimately before, or understood them so completely, Not even Gavin.
Harry was witty and smart and kind and genuine. He felt things deeply, and kept a lot of his darkest secrets and deepest insecurities incredibly close to his chest. You realized at some point that he was even more guarded than you in some ways. As you wrote together more and more, you obviously realized that there was more than met the eye when it came to your friend, but outside of songwriting, he wouldn't divulge much. He'd been through a breakup recently, that much you could tell, and while you wanted to know more, you respected his privacy and the desire to leave the past exactly where it was. Unless it came to the music, of course.
"So...you're what? Friends without all the benefits?" Sylvia asked you.
You met with her pretty regularly now for lunch during the week. Harry wasn't typically the topic of conversation, but on this occasion, Sylvia was giving you the third degree.
"We're co-workers. And friends," you added as an afterthought. Saying you were merely co-workers didn't seem right to you anymore, and you knew Harry would be upset if you thought otherwise. "I don't know what other benefits I would need outside of his companionship."
"Bull. Shit." Sylvia pinned you with a stare that made you blush. "Last weekend he had you practically sitting in his lap, and you're trying to tell me nothing's going on?"
"Not really. I don't think either of us are in a place to be in a relationship right now." It was the same line you fed to Andrew last week when you went to see one of his games. He thankfully bought it, or maybe he was just used to you keeping your love life to yourself, but Sylvia wasn't having it.
"What makes you say that?"
You shrugged. "I mean I'm definitely not, and I can just tell he's not there yet either. I mean, obviously, I've learned about his most recent relationship by working with him, but outside of that, he doesn't tell me anything. I don't even know her name."
You weren't offended that Harry didn't want to share about his ex. You wouldn't have told him about Gavin if you hadn't been put in that particular situation. But you understood better than most about that kind of pain. Maybe he wasn't ready. Maybe his feelings were getting all jumbled up between the past and the present. Or maybe he just didn't like you that way. The last theory hurt more than you cared to admit, but you were more scared of another potential relationship going up in flames than finding out the truth, so you decided ignorance really was bliss.
Sylvia nodded, understanding. You realized she must've known his ex, though you didn't ask for details. That was Harry's story to tell, not hers, and you were pretty sure Sylvia would say the same if you did ask. "I guess that's fair. But so, you're just...friends who kiss occasionally?"
You nearly choked on your sip of water. "What? No! Of course not. We don't—We—"
"Let me save you the struggle of coming up with an unconvincing lie," Sylvia said. "I've seen you."
"When?"
"Christmas party," she said, raising one finger as if she was about to list a few occurences.
"That was mistletoe. It was innocent," you said with a dismissive wave of your hand, even though said hand was suddenly clammy.
"New Year's."
"Everyone kisses at the end of the countdown!"
"At game night when he kissed your neck?"
"Why are you paying that close attention to my neck?"
"And," Slyvia said, pointedly ignoring your last remark. "I have it on good authority that Harry kissed you at the studio last week. Don't try to hide it, Y/n."
Sighing, you said, "So what's your point, exactly?"
"My point is that y'all are just pretending you're not in a relationship when you are!" she said, looking at you as if you had two heads. "Look, it's clear you've been through some shit and Harry has too, I won't deny that. But are you really going to put your happiness on the back burner because of it?"
Your cheeks burned at having been caught. It wasn't like you'd planned to kiss Harry any of those times. Each kiss came as a surprise, leaving you more and more breathless than the last and hopeful for another. What Sylvia didn't know was that you and Harry had kissed a lot more than the handful that she'd rattled off. Sometimes when it was late and you were over at his house working, he'd get this look in his eyes that would turn your whole body molten. He'd lean in close, nudge your nose with his, and then his lips were on yours and time suddenly didn't exist.
You liked kissing Harry. A lot. You liked the way his fingers gingerly held your jaw, you liked that kissing him gave you free rein to touch him wherever you wanted—his hair, his arms, beneath his shirt. Sometimes it felt like you couldn't get enough, but it always ended with one of you pulling away under the guise that it was getting late. Your lips would tingle long after, and you'd text Harry late at night when you should've been asleep, or he would call to talk about whatever he was thinking.
To anyone else, it wouldn't make sense, but it made sense to you and Harry. There was no pressure to be more, no urgency to define what you were doing, and that seemed to work for both of you.
"I'm perfectly happy right now," you said, and you were.
It had been a long time since you'd felt this content. Your breakup with Gavin left you feeling guilty and ashamed. And deep down, you knew you already felt more for Harry than you did for your ex, and that made you feel horrible too. Part of you still felt you were being greedy by trying to be this happy, that you should just take what you were given and try not to press your luck.
Sylvia took you by surprise by taking your hand. Her fingers were warm and reassuring, just as her eyes were when you finally met her gaze. It was safe to say now that she was your friend. She'd come over to your house multiple times for wine and movie nights, you went out to bars together, you'd met her partner, who was the absolute sweetest person on the planet. You valued Sylvia's friendship, and you valued her as a person. You didn't want to lose her if things with Harry progressed and fizzled out.
"It's okay to want more, Y/n," she said gently.
It was like she saw through all the bullshit and realized what you were really scared of. Harry was the only person who knew everything regarding your past relationship, but you told Sylvia bits and pieces. When you'd told her that you broke up with Gavin the night he wanted to propose, she didn't judge you, or ask why you'd throw away a perfectly good relationship. She was empathetic, and said she was sorry you had to go through that. It felt good to confide in someone who was willing to hear your side of the story, to have them realize if you could've loved Gavin the way he loved you, you would've.
"Maybe," you said. "But like I said, I'm not the only one who has shit to work through."
Sylvia nodded, letting the subject drop. But the words she'd said, It's okay to want more, needled at your brain the rest of the day.
*.*
"You should come with me."
You had been watching Sweet Pea doze contentedly on top of Buddy, who was curled in a ball on his dog bed. The two of them were an unlikely pair, but they'd gotten along great the first time they were introduced, and now you found it adorable any time they napped together.
Harry's voice was low and scratchy in your ear, as if he wasn't too far off from sleep himself. You were huddled together under a blanket on your couch, watching the credits roll on the second movie of the night, but you hadn't paid much attention to anything since the moment Harry pulled you to his chest and tucked his chin in the crook of your neck, peppering your skin with kisses as his thumbs rubbed circles beneath your shirt.
"What?" you asked, not having really heard him. It seemed impossible, but every day his touch became more and more dizzying.
"To Japan. You should come with me," he said. "It would be like a writing retreat."
Harry had mentioned his impromptu trip to Japan over dinner. He seemed excited about it, of getting out of town for a little while and just being alone with his thoughts. Those were his words, though now he was inviting you along.
"I don't even have a passport," you said, a non-answer, as Harry would call it.
"We'll get you one," he said. "Don't you think it would be fun to explore a new city together? Just the two of us?"
"W—What about Buddy?"
"Buddy can come to," Harry said, like it was all just so easy.
You thought back to your conversation with Sylvia a week ago. It's okay to want more, she'd said. At the time, you were content with this thing you and Harry were doing. It was simple and easy and pressure-free. A couple weeks later her words still nagged you. You hadn't mentioned wanting more to Harry, but this was different. This was...big. Appearing nonchalant didn't make it so.
"What are we?" you found yourself asking, hating how cliche the question was, even if you did need the answer all of a sudden.
"What do you mean?" Harry asked, but you knew he was too smart to not understand.
Still, you sat up and faced him, forcing him to sit on the other side of the couch to have a proper conversation. "I meant exactly what I said, H. What—What are we doing here exactly?"
Harry's face flushed, the muscles in his arm flexing as he rubbed his neck. "I...I don't know. I thought we were okay with not really defining it."
Not defining it, or not talking about it? you thought, even though that wasn't really fair. You were just as content not to ask as he was until now. Or a few weeks ago, you couldn't exactly tell when you began to want more, or when wanting more stopped scaring you.
"I know, but now you're asking me to drop everything and fly to Japan for...for how long exactly?"
Harry shrugged, and your jaw ticked. "A couple months?"
"A couple months," you repeated, trying to align your thoughts. All you could hear though was, It's okay to want more. Taking a deep breath, you said, "I think...I think if I'm going to follow someone across the world for a couple months, I would like a definition about what it is we're doing."
"It's a writing retreat, Y/n. We would be working on songs. Just like we've always done."
You weren't sure when you became the brave one. Perhaps it was your conversation with Sylvia bolstering your confidence, or maybe it was Harry's reluctance to acknowledge the situation at hand, you weren't sure, but his reply wasn't enough. Not nearly enough.
"I'd have to find my own hotel," you said. "Or an apartment to rent I guess."
"You'd stay with me obviously," Harry said, and you had to resist the urge to take him by the shoulders and shake him until he started seeing your perspective.
"Co-workers don't live together, H."
"But we're not just co-workers, Y/n. We're—"
Your brows raised, encouraging him to finish, but he ended up shaking his head. Running a tired hand over his face, he said, "I understand what you mean, but I can't...I can't give that to you right now."
You nodded, then stood up. "And I can't go to Japan without it."
It hurt, but at least he was being upfront about how he felt. It wasn't really fair of you to ask for more when both of you had been content to keep things simple. But somewhere down the line, you realized you liked Harry. A lot. You were okay with leaving your history with Gavin in the past, and you wanted to look to the future now. You'd thought that the future might include a relationship with Harry, but he wasn't ready, and you weren't sure if you wanted to wait. So much of the last two years had been waiting, hiding. Now you needed more. You craved it.
You felt like you were in some kind of alternate universe. One where Harry was scared and unsure of himself and unable to admit to what he wanted. You wanted more, and you weren't going to settle for anything less. You wanted to be more than his friend whom he kissed sometimes, you wanted to hear his scratchy voice as he woke up beside you, and you knew he did too, but something was holding him back. You'd spent too much time hiding from life and love to hide with him some more. Part of you wanted to, just because it was Harry, and you cared about him a lot, but a bigger part of you knew what you deserved, and it was okay to acknowledge that.
"I understand," he said, standing up with you.
Both of you were quiet as he gathered his things. You watched his broad shoulders shrug into his coat, the lean frame of his body bend down to put Sweet Pea in her little carrier. You felt the loss of him already, and he hadn't even gone yet, but you could feel the wall going up between the two of you. Both of you were guarded in your own ways, and both of you had been as vulnerable as you could be, but it wasn't enough.
"When are you planning on leaving?" you asked as you walked him to the door.
"Couple weeks," he said. "Just have to get the logistics figured out."
Nodding, you stepped into his offered embrace, letting yourself inhale the scent of his cologne and feel his arms around you for the last time for a while. His nose bumped yours in a move that was so familiar it made your heart squeeze. You weren't sure how long you stood like that, kissing until you couldn't breathe, it was only until Buddy's wet nose nudged the two of you apart that you finally stepped away from him. Harry bent down to scratch your dog's head and let him lick his cheek a few times before straightening back up. He was about to turn and leave when you called his name.
"I don't know what happened," you said, swallowing around the lump in your throat. "If you did something or if she did something to make you so...closed off, and from one heavily guarded person to another, I'm sorry that it happened and that it made you this way. I hope you find whatever it is you're looking for in Japan."
Harry grinned, but it wasn't wide enough to show his dimples. Without saying a word, he left, head bent as he walked down the hall, taking a piece of you with him.
Buddy nudged your leg, pulling away from the hall Harry already disappeared down. Your dog's eyes were big and curious and completely unaware of what was wrong, which brought a watery smile to your face. "Come on, bubba. Let's get ready for bed."
#harry styles#harry styles blurb#harry styles x reader#harry styles fanfic#harry styles oneshot#harry styles imagine#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles x you#harry styles fluff#harry styles writing#harry styles fic#harry styles one shot#harry styles angst#harry styles album#fine line era#fine line album
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Unremarkable (LN4)
(Part 2 of the Blind Items series)
Summary: Blind Items returns again to ruin yet another happy couple's peace. This time, Lando Norris and his ‘unremarkable’ girlfriend.
“Lando, have you seen this?” his girlfriend asked, showing him the tweets. When they had soft launched, she got a small dose of what it would be like to be the WAG of Lando Norris. But even when they hadn’t known anything about her, some people still had been so mean. Now that they knew she had a ‘commoner’ job, they had started tearing her to shreds. ‘How could someone so rich and famous go for such a plain girl’ was what so many people had said.
“Oscar showed it to me today. I am so sorry, honey, I was hoping that you wouldn’t have seen it. Those people are absolute asses, love.” He probably should have said something earlier but he knew how hard she would take it. While she had joked in the past about the differences in their jobs, especially the pay, he knew she felt insecure about it at times.
“The thing is, I didn’t see it. Not at first. I only saw it when I heard one of my students talking about it in class today. Can you even imagine how humiliating that was for me? Hearing my own students who I have done nothing but be kind and understanding to, trying to get them to love learning, talk about how awful it is their favorite driver is dating someone as boring as a teacher.” She couldn’t stop the tears as she went on about the situation. He wouldn’t understand, he couldn’t. She knew Lando had his moments of insecurity but nothing like this. At the end of the day, he still had hundreds upon thousands of fans who loved him immensely.
Even if he couldn’t fully understand, it still broke his heart seeing how much it hurt her. Sure, he hadn’t ever thought he would date a school teacher either, but that was mostly due to his previous lack of appreciation for school. But being with her has changed that. His girlfriend could always make things interesting. She loved to spout history facts on vacation and it always made him so deliriously happy to see how giddy she was to learn new things.
Seeing her now though, so visibly upset made him realize this wasn’t something that could slide easily. His PR team might not love it but he wasn’t going to just sit there and let her feel terrible about herself.
“I’ll fix this, I promise.” He said quickly as he left. He shouldn’t have left her alone and crying, but he was fuming and decided he needed that anger to let his message out.
landonorris
Liked by oscarpiastri and 153,137 others
landonorris I don’t know who this gossip page thinks they are but the last thing I will tolerate is someone hiding behind a screen telling the entire world that my girlfriend, who I love more than life itself, is ‘dull’ and ‘unremarkable’ because of her job. This is a woman who is smarter than 99% of the people I have ever interacted with, someone who spends so much of their time trying, and succeeding, to get kids to love learning. Even as someone who didn’t appreciate school as much as they should have, I would never have once thought school teachers were any of the negative things you have said. Luckily, here I am, happy with my amazing girlfriend who deserves the entire world, and I know I will spend the rest of my life trying to give it to her.
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A few minutes later she came into the room, tears still staining her cheeks.
“Thank you Lando” she said as he motioned for her to sit on his lap.
“I can say more if you want? I definitely think I could have cursed them out mor-” He was cut off with a kiss. The sheer force of it caused them to bump heads a little, which then caused them to break apart giggling. “I’m serious about what I said. I don’t know what I did to get someone as wonderful as you but I am not going to let some assholes on the internet make you upset over something so incredible. You should be proud of what you do and I will forever work to remind you of how amazing you are.”
“I love you, Lando” was all she replied.
“I love you more”
“Please can we not play this game you know I love-”
“Nope, la-la-la-la I can’t hear you over the sound of me loving you soooo much” He said as he covered his ears.
Such a dork, she thought.
#f1 fanfic#f1 x you#f1 x reader#f1 imagine#f1 fic#formula 1 x reader#formula 1 imagine#lando x reader#lando norris x reader#lando norris imagine#ln4 x reader#ln4 imagine
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Hey luv, hope all is well. So, I just previously read your spencer x girly!reader and I absolutely loved them. While reading the chess part, an idea sparked.
So if possible could you do something similar where Spencie boy and girly!reader are playing chess and she is obviously frustrated or something because she doesn’t understand. So being the amazing boy wonder he is, Spencer secretly acts like he had no good moves and the reader just starts pointing out the moves he could make not knowing he can clearly see those moves and he lets the reader win making her super excited and happy and immediately sets the board back and starts another game.
I just think it would be so cute to see how Spencer would just gaze at and admire the reader as she is focused and asks questions. If this is too confusing or too similar to the original chess part no worries. It’s simply a mere thought I had. Do with it what you please!!!
Love your works and your blog 🥰🤗
𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞, 𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐁𝐨𝐲 ♡
Thank you so much, hun ♡ I't makes me so happy to hear that you liked the other ones, I've had so much fun with them. And thank you so much for this request, it's such a cute scenario!
Spencer Reid x girly!reader|| Masterlist || Spencer playlist
summary: Spencer truly can’t believe how lucky he is to have you in his life. With you, everything just feels so natural, despite him being in completely foreign waters. You keep being patient with him, every step of the way. With you, everything just falls into place, like the missing piece of a puzzle finally fitting snugly into its spot. All he ever want to do is make you smile, even when it means that he has to lose in chess on purpose. Part one & part two 💕
word count: 2.0k
a/n: I was actually in a chess club in school, but we did not play chess, so sorry if the chess parts aren’t very accurate, I tried my best, lol.
Spencer watches you intently, his heart swelling with adoration at the sight of you trying your best. He can see the determination in your eyes, the way you furrow your brow in concentration, and it only deepens the love he feels for you. Your stained lips pouting sweetly as you contemplate your next move
You let out an exasperated sigh, leaning back in your chair with a frustrated expression. “I just don’t understand this game, Spence. I feel like I’m making all the wrong moves,” you sigh, moving your knight in a random direction. “At this point I‘m just making moves for the sake of it.”
Spencer can’t help but smile at your frustration, finding it endearing how you get so worked up over a game of chess. Moving your knight wasn’t the best move you could have made, but he doesn’t want to tell you that, and it wasn’t the worst move either. He reaches out to gently place his hand on top of yours, giving it a reassuring squeeze, but he lets his fingers linger for a little while. It always manages to surprise him how soft your skin is, and how it feels so warm and comforting beneath his touch.
You look up at him, your pretty eyes meeting his gaze and Spencer feels how his heart skips a beat at the way your lashes flutter against your cheeks.
“Hey, don’t be so hard on yourself. Some people use their entire life to master this game, and you’ve only been playing for a few weeks,” he reminds you. “You’re doing great, and trust me, you’re not as lost as you think you are.”
You smile softly at his reassurance. “So, what I’m hearing you say is that if I keep going, there’s still a chance that I can be a big old chess nerd like you?” you tease, nudging him playfully.
Spencer chuckles at your teasing, loving the way you always manage to make him laugh, something he hasn’t always had an easy time with. “Hey, being a nerd isn’t that bad, okay?”
“No, it’s not,” you agree, leaning in closer to him. “In fact, I think it’s kind of cute.” Spencer’s heart flutters at your words, feeling a warmth spread through him at the way you look at him with such affection.
Spencer knows many things, arguably too many things, but he will never be able to understand what you see in him, you’re so beautiful and confident and always so kind to everyone, there is no doubt in his mind that you are way, way out of his league, but he is grateful every day that you, for whatever reason, chose him.
“I’m glad you think so,” he mumbles, a slight blush dusting his cheeks at your words.
“I actually think you’re very cute, you know,” you say playfully, reaching up to brush a stray lock of hair out of his face with a gentle touch. Spencer can feel his heart racing in his chest as he looks into your eyes, seeing nothing but love and admiration reflected back at him.
He leans in closer to you, unable to resist the magnetic pull that always seems to bring you both together. Your lips meet in a soft, tender kiss, filled with all the love and affection that Spencer feels for you. In that moment, nothing else matters except for the two of you and the way your hearts beat as one.
As you pull away, a smile tugs at the corners of Spencer’s lips, a smile that only you can bring out in him. “I love you,” he whispers, his voice filled with sincerity and warmth.
“I love you too, Spence,” you respond, your eyes shining with your own smile, bright and full of happiness.
Spencer will never be able to wrap his head around why you love him, but damn he is glad and forever grateful that you do. If he could travel back in time and tell his younger self that he would find someone as amazing and wonderful as you - that someone as beautiful and kind hearted as you would ever love him, he wouldn’t have believed it, he would probably think that it was some kind of cruel joke. But here you are.
It’s overwhelming, really, the love and adoration he feels for you in every fiber of his being. He never knew he could feel this way about someone, never knew that someone could make him feel so alive and complete. The fact that he feels so at home and normal with another person in his life is beyond anything he could have ever imagined.
But with you, everything just feels so natural, despite him being in completely foreign waters, you keep being patient with him every step of the way and with you by his side, it doesn’t seem so daunting anymore. With you, everything just falls into place, like the missing piece of a puzzle finally fitting snugly into its spot.
“Oh, you got something…” you whisper, almost more to yourself than him. He is confused for a short second, until he feels your thumb brush against the corner of his mouth, wiping away the trace of lipstick that had transferred from your lips to his. Spencer chuckles at the realization, feeling a warm rush of affection for you. “There…” you say with a soft smile.
Spencer can’t help but chuckle at the tender gesture, feeling a surge of warmth behind his chest.
“You can’t keep distracting me like this,” you tease, leaning in closer to him with a mischievous glint in your eye. “I’m actually trying to beat you at this game, you know.”
Spencer’s smile widens at your playful tone, a twinkle in his eye as he looks at you. “Who says I’m going to make it easy for you?” he responds, his voice laced with amusement.
“You did! You literally said that you would go easy on me,” you pout, crossing your arms in mock annoyance.
Spencer laughs, a sound that fills the room with joy. “Okay, okay, I may have said that,” he concedes, “but, I don’t think you really need me to, you know. You’re a lot smarter than you give yourself credit for, and I wouldn’t be surprised if you ended up beating me at my own game someday.”
“I doubt that,” you mumble, looking back at the board with furrowed brows.
Spencer leans back in his chair, watching you with admiration as you study the board, he can see the gears turning in your head. He knows what move he should be doing, the move that could make him win the game, but he isn’t really interested in that.
“Well, it looks like I’m running out of options,” he say, feigning defeat as he moves his bishop into a vulnerable position.
You glance up at him. “You could have moved your rook to that square and set up a potential checkmate in a few moves,”you point out, sounding both surprised and proud that you saw the possible move.
Spencer had, of course, seen that it would have been the right move to make, but he wanted to give you a chance to shine, and to prolong the game. Seeing the pride and satisfaction in your eyes is worth more than winning any game ever could.
“Oh, you’re right,” he says, trying to sound surprised, like he hadn’t seen that move multiple rounds in advance. But he must not be a very convincing actor, and he can’t help but smile as he watches the look of realization dawn on your face.
You roll your eyes playfully, seeing right through his act. “You’re such a goof, Spence,” you giggle, shaking your head in amusement. “But thank you for giving me a chance to show off a little.”
“I guess I just wanted to give you a fighting chance,” he says, leaning in closer to you.
You playfully swat at his arm, a laugh escaping your lips. “Dork,” you tease, but there’s a fondness in your tone that makes his heart swell with even more love for you, and he leans in to place a gentle kiss on your forehead, before leaning back again to look at you, his heart overflowing with adoration for you.
You playfully roll your eyes, but there’s a hint of gratitude in your expression. “Well, thanks for the favor,” you say with a smile, moving your queen in a strategic position that surprises Spencer.
He raises an eyebrow in surprise at your move, impressed by your strategic thinking. “Oh, someone’s feeling confident now, huh?” he teases, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
You shrug nonchalantly, a mischievous glint in your eyes. “Well, you did say you weren’t going to go easy on me,” you quip, moving your pieces with a newfound determination.
Spencer watches you closely, his heart filled with pride at the way you’re starting to grasp the game more and more and making better and better strategic moves. He can’t help but admire your intelligence and quick thinking, feeling a sense of awe at the way you surprise him at every turn.
And yes, he might go a little easy on you from time to time, but he can see that you’re starting to understand the game on a deeper level. And that, to him, is worth more than winning a game of chess ever could.
As the game progresses, Spencer can see the determination in your eyes, the way you carefully plan out your moves and anticipate his next move
“You’re really giving me a run for my money, aren’t you?” Spencer remarks, a smile playing on his lips as he watches you strategize your next move. You give him a sly grin, clearly enjoying the challenge. “I told you not to underestimate me, Spence,” you say confidently, moving your knight into a position that puts him on the defensive.
Spencer chuckles, impressed by your bold move. “I should know better by now,” he admits, moving his rook to protect his vulnerable bishop. The game continues, each move calculated and strategic, and Spencer can’t help but admire the way you’ve grown since your first game together.
“Checkmate,” you say triumphantly, a grin stretching across your face as you realize you’ve won. Spencer can’t help but smile back, feeling a rush of excitement and happiness at your victory. “Well done, darling,” he says, leaning in to give you a congratulatory kiss.
“I still feel like you went easy on me, but thank you,” you tease, a playful glint in your eye. Spencer can’t help but laugh, feeling grateful for the opportunity to see the excited smile that is lighting up your face, making your already beautiful features shine even brighter with a sense of pride.
“Maybe I did, maybe I didn't,” he teases back, a twinkle in his eye. “But regardless, you did really well, I can’t believe how far you’ve come in such a short amount of time.”
You grin at his words. “Well, I’ve had a really great teacher,” you remark. “And he is, like, sooo handsome too. It’s actually wild that I could even concentrate on the game,” you add with a wink before you’re leaning in to plant a sweet kiss on his lips.
Spencer’s heart flutters at your words, feeling a surge of love and adoration for you that he can’t quite put into words, they are too big and too overwhelming to express, so instead he tries to pour every bit of that love and adoration into the kiss that he returns to you.
He wraps his arms around you, pulling you close to him as he deepens the kiss, savoring the feeling of being so close to you, of sharing this moment. He might have lost the game, but because of you, he has never felt like less of a loser.
As you both pull away, a smile lingers on both of your faces, and Spencer can’t help but feel like the luckiest man alive. “I love you,” he whispers, his voice filled with sincerity and adoration.
“I love you too, Spence,” you respond, your eyes filled with nothing but love and affection for him “Now help me set this board up again, I want to beat you fair and square this time,” you say with a playful glint in your eye. Spencer chuckles at your competitive spirit, feeling a sense of contentment wash over him as he helps you set up the board once more.
#springtyme writes#spencer reid#girly!reader#dr spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x you#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid oneshot#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid x fem!reader#dr spencer reid#doctor spencer reid#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid x y/n#doctor spencer reid x reader#criminal minds fanfiction#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds fluff#criminal minds fanfic#criminal minds fic#criminal minds#spencer reid x f!readder#spencer x girly!reader#x bimbo!reader#bimbo!reader#chess fic#criminal minds fandom
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PLSPLSPLS do the sleeping w plushies FOR SVT PREFORMANCE UNIT 🙏🙏🙏💕💕
you still sleep with plushies ♡
author's note. here u go! hope you like it <3
you can find vocal unit ver here, hhu is tba ^^
┆彡 SOONYOUNG [ 순영 ]
im sorry but this man believes he’s a tiger and you’re not making a fuss about it…
so why would he mind your plushies?
actually, he thinks it’s so so cute and it was one of the first things that he noticed in your apartment
he often talks "through" them (?) like,, he’ll grab a plushie n be like
"sooyoungie told me he wants a kiss…"
cries.
anyways.
he won’t admit it but he loves the feeling of your warmth and your plushies surrounding him when u two fall asleep together
sometimes steals one or two when they’re about to go on tour
and actually makes it his life mission to bring you a new plushie (preferably tiger one) from each place you/they visit
in no time you’ll have to find a new storage because your bed started running out of place…
┆彡 JUNHUI [ 文俊辉 ]
i’m so sorry but he was very flabbergasted at first when you told him that one day
"plushies… like… plush animals? like, those for kids?" he repeated, frowning
no mf, rocks. of course plushies as in—
he noticed your mood got a little down by his reaction :(
and sure, he was surprised because he never stumbled upon a grown person still sleeping with plushies but it wasn’t like he minded?!
so he suddenly left your place, saying that he’ll buy some snacks
and he comes back with like,, a bag of plushies ☹️☹️☹️ and snacks too.
he apologizes n explains himself and you’re just so taken aback that he has to shake your arms <\\3
n then you two spend the rest of the evening naming the plushies he bought,, obviously falling asleep w them too
and… he’d rather die than admit it…. but he started to like this
n he started a small collection at home too… 🥹
┆彡 MINGHAO [ 徐明浩 ]
when you first started dating, you’d usually sleep over at his place (because it’s a mf villa u can do whatever u want there lmao)
but one day hao shot u a text that he’s gonna be over at yours in 10 with his pjs
so you texted him: "i have weird sleeping habits tho… i still sleep with plushies…"
and mans genuinely went "so?"
like, he couldn’t care less in a good way,, yk?
he’s been living with 12 guys for a couple of years now…. what is a bunch of stuffed animals to him?
ever since then you transferred some of your babies over to his place so they were there just in case hehe
and he loves that,, he’ll hug them if you’re not sleeping together :(
also will punch them occasionally,, like a cute aggression 😭 never tells u that tho….
┆彡 CHAN [ 찬 ]
honestly when chan saw your plushies for the first time his eyes went as wide as a kid’s eyes in a candy store
he genuinely thinks it’s so cool !!
"omg y/nnie those are all yours?! and this one is your childhood one? and this is from the arcade date?! huh— you named this one after me???” (and it’s an otter btw)
he’s so obsessed 🥹
will steal some of them n just carry em around, sometimes pulls a plushie out when practicing alone
because the guys laughed at him because of that… welp,, they did until you joined them for practice one day and there was a sad pout forming on your lips when mingyu teased chan about "how silly that plushie looks"
(then chan made them apologize to you and it may have been one of those moments when the maknae was scarier than the leader >:) )
chan also developed a habit of buying every plushie in sight that reminds him of you OR he thinks he’d like
especially if you have like an fav pokemon or tv show character,, literally whatever – he’ll buy it the second his eyes land upon it
anything to make his partner happy 🥹
(deffo bought this big ass teddy bear too and until this day it sits proudly in your bedroom <3 )
masterlist <3
taglist. @mirxzii ,, @primoppang ,, @l3visbby ,, @nicholasluvbot ,, @planetkiimchi ,, @weird-bookworm ,, @slytherinshua ,, @kazmura ,, @laylasbunbunny ,, @dazzlingligth ,, @eternalgyu ,, @rubywonu ,, @haecien ,, @mine-gyu
#svt fluff#svt x reader#svt imagines#hoshi#seventeen#dino#minghao#junhui#svt performance unit#svt scenarios#svt reactions#svt x you#svt x y/n#minghao fluff#junhui fluff#chan fluff#hoshi fluff#hoshi x reader#junhui x reader#junhui x you#junhui x y/n#hoshi x you#minghao x y/n#minghao x you#minghao x reader#chan x reader#chan x y/n#chan x you#svt soft hours#svt drabbles
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Living Nightmares | Finnick Odair x Reader
THG Masterlist / Taglist / Inbox
Summary: Finnick wakes up to find you slipping away from him. As he tries to get help, he loses track of you, only to find you in the hands of the careers. The situation seems to get worse before he finally thinks he's at peace, but you're there to remind him to keep going.
Content Warnings/Tags: angst, a whole lot of it, fluff at the end though I'm not a monster, mentions of blood, hypothermia, violence
Word Count: 3.4k
A/n: I've been obsessing over our boy Finnick so here's a fic full of angst, because apparently that's the only thing my brain can think of. Dividers by @chilumitos
This wasn’t exactly where they had thought they’d be at the moment. It all started during the second day in the arena, they had the allies, they had the supplies, and they thought they had the advantage, but worry took over as they started losing sight of each other in a chase, and they tried to find the others, only to end up in a new part of the arena. It was dark, cold, and they had lost their supplies, and there was no food or water source nearby.
Neither of them was really to blame. It had been a long day, and the surroundings didn't inspire much hope. So, both of them had fallen asleep on some of the leaves that covered the ground. The cold air was still blowing around them.
But at least he wasn't alone, two sets of minds were better than one, at least he still had you.
The rising sun urged him to open his eyes, and he stretched out his arms, which had become stiff from the cold. It was only when he sat up and ran his hand through the hair that had fallen in your face that he noticed how cold you were. He quickly got up from behind you, pulling you into his lap, tilting your head up a little. Your skin was almost as white as snow, and your lips were starting to turn blue. The colour that once held so many fond memories of the ocean and the sky, now being replaced by fear and panic. He shook you lightly, trying to wake up as if you were just sleeping deeply. When you didn't react, he called out for you, his voice laced with concern.
“Y/n? Come on love, wake up.” But the only movement that came from you was your arm falling from where it was, the harsh thud to the ground reinforcing his fears.
“No, no come on. This isn't happening, wake up” Finnick had thought about this happening, how could he not when it was the basis for most of his nightmares? But he always woke up from those to find you resting in his arms, your soft breathing comforting him back to sleep. This time he didn't wake up, and he didn't hear your breathing to soothe him. He checked your pulse for a heartbeat, but all he could feel was his own heart racing in his chest. He looked around him as if there would be someone there to help, but you were alone.
He started CPR to try and quicken up your pulse, to get you to breathe again, and while he knew you probably couldn't hear him, he had to try.
“Do you remember when you came back from your first games, I really thought that had been the scariest moment of my life. When I survived my own, at least I knew you were alright at home. When you came back, I thought it was over, I wanted to see the positive side, but you seemed so weak, and having watched you, I knew how bad of a state you were in. It tore me apart to have to see it and not be able to do anything." His voice cracks a little, his head starting to swim with more thoughts.
"I won’t do this without you. You can't leave me now, not like this." He pushes a little harder on your chest while doing compression. He's sure if he does so anymore, he will crack one of your ribs.
"I imagined us getting married. I imagined proposing to you by the lake, that little spot you showed me, I know how happy you were in the middle of the field of dandelions. Every worry seemed to slip away from you, like a little hideaway from the horrors of the world. That's how you make me feel every time I'm with you. It's like there is no one in the whole world except us. And I know how cliche that sounds, I know you never liked cliches, but it's true, you are my world, and there is nothing I wouldn't do for you.”
Right as he was about to pour out more of his heart to you, he heard a noise coming from the distance. The steps were too heavy to be coming from a small animal, but his instincts also told him that whoever it was, they weren't there to help.
He knew he had two options. try and fight off whatever was coming while carrying the love of his life with him. Or keep you hidden, try and fight while distracting them away from you and coming back when the coast was clear. He tried his best to hide you underneath a blanket of leaves, making you disappear into the surroundings, he gave you a light kiss on the forehead, scared to get too close and feel how cold your skin still was. He heard the footsteps come closer.
“Just hold on a little longer darling, I’ll be back before you know it.”
And so he turned around, grabbing his trident a little harder than normal, and came face to face with one of the careers. Finnick's muscles were still sore from the night, but he was ready to run. He had to get away from here before the tribute started to wonder if he had been alone.
He ran towards a clearing, making the tribute follow behind him. He ran to a split in the path, which gave him two options, left or right. He heard rustling coming not far behind him, and his instincts told him to go right, so he did. He ran for a while until he reached a dead end, the line of trees becoming so dense he couldn't get through anymore. The tribute was still on his heels, and Finnick had to think fast again. He saw a body of water nearby and decided that diving in, despite the creatures that might be in it, and the chilling temperature it must be, would be better than certain death. He knew he would be able to outswim the career, it luckily being one of his strengths. He started to run towards it, and when he got to the edge, he jumped like his life depended on it, but it still wasn't his life he was worried about, it was yours.
Once he got to the other side of the water, he looked back, and the tribute was nowhere to be seen, probably having decided that the risk of the wild waters wasn't worth it. Finnick wasn't thinking about the relief of escape, all he was thinking about was how much time you had left.
It was by some sort of miracle he found Peeta, Johanna and the others on a small beach nearby, and he practically ran straight into them at full speed without even announcing himself. Once the others had realized it was Finnick, and he was not a danger to them, they calmed down, but the state of despair he was in did alarm them soon after
Peeta looked up at him, he was completely out of breath from how fast he had run.
“Sit down Finnick, try and catch your breath” He told him, while placing an assuring hand on his shoulder.
“There’s no time to sit down, I need to go back.” He spoke with such certainty it startled the others.
“Go back where?”
“ To the clearing, I don't know where it was, but I remember how to get there.”
“Why do you need to go back?” Johanna asked him, seeming confused.
“Because y/n is still there, and she doesn't have long”
The others didn't need to hear more, and started to pack up the things they had with them to follow him.
When they had made it back, Johanna was in front with Finnick, she wouldn't care to admit it out loud, but she was worried about you as well.
“Where?” She asked him
“Over by the cut-down stumps, next to the maple and the oak tree.” Finnick had memorized the entire area in order not to lose track of you, and with Johanna being from the lumber district, he knew this clue would be the most helpful to her.
“There’s no one here” she said, looking back at him frustrated.
“There has to be, she was right there when I left.”
“She might have been, but unless hypothermia comes with the power to turn invisible, she’s gone.”
“Well, she couldn't have left by herself” His mind was reeling with all the possibilities, each one more horrible than the last.
“Well then who took her, there are no drag marks, it wasn't any kind of mutt.”
“I don't know, maybe-” his eyes fell to the mud next to the fallen leaves, the ground here was in permafrost, it couldn't have come from here. When the tribute started chasing him he had already put distance between where you were and where he was going. They must have gone back after he went into the water to try and see if he had any supplies, and have found you. But your body wasn't here, that was a good thing, that means you must be alive, why else would they have taken you?
“They’re at the swamp”
“How are you so sure?”
“The career, he was alone when he chased me, he has to have set up camp somewhere with the others, it can't be far from here otherwise he wouldn't have carried her.”
“Alright, but we don't even know where that is, the swamp must be massive, they could be anywhere, we can’t just run in without a plan.” Johanna tried to reason, looking over to Finnick, only to realise he was no longer there.
“Where did he go?” Peeta asks her.
“Probably to the swamp, probably without a plan.” She sighed, she was annoyed, but couldn't say she was surprised, she knew he would do anything for you, including laying down his own life.
“How do we find him, we don't even know where the swamp is, y/n and Finnick were the only ones who crossed it.”
“You don't happen to have a map, do you?” Johanna asks, sarcasm heavy as usual.
While the others were trying to figure out where exactly Finnick had run off to, he himself ran into some trouble. He knew it was his fault for going in without a plan or any backup, but he had listened to his heart, not his head. His heart convinced him he had to find you, telling him that if he didn't find you and wake you up, he’d never be able to see your eyes looking back into his. His heart was telling him to go and save you, even though his head was telling him it was probably already too late anyway.
He wasn't paying close attention to his surroundings as he should have been, trying with all his might to find you. They had found him when he was distracted and from that moment on they kept trying to break him. He was tied with his back against a tree, most of his body covered in blood and a little dizzy from the loss of it.
“It’s very easy to figure out what makes you tick Odair” the district one tribute spoke to him. He couldn't see very far ahead of him, and he couldn't see you anywhere.
“What’s that supposed to mean” He was confused and angry. Confused about what they meant, why they hadn't killed him. Angry they kept him from finding you, from holding you.
“Don’t worry, you'll find out soon enough.”
And as if it was planned, right after the career had spoken, a loud, soul-cracking scream echoed around him. Finnick immediately recognized it, how could he ever forget? It couldn't be real, it had to be a trick, jabber-jays, something. But there wasn't a flock of birds around, and nothing would be able to replicate such a crushing sound. He tried closing his eyes, but when he did his imagination ran wild with images and scenarios, and it only made it worse. The only thing he could do to calm down was tell himself it wasn't real, even if he didn't believe it, repeating it like a mantra over and over.
“It isn't real, it isn't real, it isn't real.” It was nothing more than a whisper and most probably only a mumble of incoherent words.
“Oh but that's the best part Odair, it is real, and it's not gonna stop until you give us what we want. to know.”
“You’re lying” He spit out, barely able to say the next words without falling apart completely “I saw her die.” A single tear makes its way down his face as he tries to keep his composure, cracking now wouldn't do him or you any good.
“Are you willing to take that risk? She’s pretty feisty, I'll give you that, but if you don't crack soon and tell us where your friends are, she's not gonna make it.
He tried ignoring it, trying to listen to his head instead of his heart, but once again the attempt was futile. All he could hear was the screaming, even when he was sure it had actually stopped, the sound still lived in his head. It was hard to say which was worse, the deafening screams, or the silences in between.
He tried to think with his head, tried to think what you would say to him. It would probably be something along the lines of ‘don’t do anything stupid when I'm not there.’
It was far too late for that.
When the career returned, he had a smile on his face that seemed way too happy for the situation they were in.
“She’s strong, that girl of yours, that much is true. The question is for how much longer, everyone has a point of no return, and I have a feeling she’ll cross it soon, But you can make it stop, tell us where your friends are, and it’ll stop.” The tribute had bent down so he was face to face with him, and by the look in his eyes, he now knew for sure this wasn't a bluff.
Finnick didn't know where they were, they wouldn't have stayed at the beach where he found them or at the clearing where the two of you had slept for the night. And maybe it was for the best he didn't know, because right now if he was honest with himself, he would have told them anything he knew if they wanted it. He would do anything to get to hold you again, to feel the warmth of your body against his, to feel your lips pressed against his own. But the careers weren't stupid, he had no reason to believe they would actually let you go, and even if they did, he knew a part of you would never forgive him for what he would have done.
“This is a waste of time.” He screamed, silently hoping you were close enough and conscious enough to hear his voice, hoping it would be enough to tell you not to give up. He pulled at the ropes tying his hands together with all the strength he had left, knowing it would likely not achieve anything, but hoping for it nonetheless.
But it didn't make a difference, your screams didn't stop, and his heartache didn't stop. Seconds turned into minutes, and minutes turned into hours, up until a point where Finnick couldn't tell how much time had passed. It was difficult to keep track of time when you kept blacking out, but it was peaceful in the most morbid way. He didn't sleep, he lost consciousness, so he didn't dream. When he blacked out he had a moment of peace, a moment where he didn't hear your screams echoing around in his head. But he would always wake up and have to face reality again.
He couldn't hear his heartbeat anymore, he couldn't hear his breathing or his thoughts, all he could hear was the screaming and the cries, even though he wasn't sure if they were there or if his mind kept playing tricks on him. He had always feared this, but he didn't think that his worst nightmares would actually come true.
He looked down and saw a puddle of his blood staining the ground and the leaves he was sitting on. The last thing he heard before he blacked out again was shouting coming from the distance.
When he wakes up he can't see much, his eyes heavy and his body tired. But he can feel his cheeks getting wet, it’s a heavy liquid and he guesses it's his blood until he opens his eyes far enough to see you kneeling in front of him, your hands cupping his cheeks to lift his face while you're silently crying, the tears creating a clear path down the grime on your face.
“y/n?” His voice barely reaches a whisper, but you look up into his eyes immediately.
“Finnick, oh god, please wake up we have to get out of here.” Your voice sounds strained, and Finnick isn't sure if it's because of all the screams that must have taken a toll on you, or if the sounds have damaged his ears, he hopes for your sake it's the latter.
“No we don’t” He says with a sense of peace that doesn't match up with the predicament you're in.
“What do you mean?” You ask him, while trying to remove some of the blood stains from his skin, but failing miserably.
“We’re in heaven, aren't we, that's why you're here, I was hoping I would see you.” A sob from your throat almost interrupts his whispering, and he looks up to you again.
“Why are you covered in so much blood” He reaches out to touch your face ever so gently, as if he's scared you're only a figment of his imagination, and you could disappear anytime.
“It’s nothing, I’m alright, I’m more worried about you, you look like you could open your very own blood bank with how much you’re losing.” Your voice is shaky, and it matches the tremble of your hands.
“No need to worry about that, You're here to bring me to heaven, we’ll be together again, it’ll all be perfect.”
“Finnick listen to me! I’m not here to take you to heaven, I’m real and I'm right here in front of you and I need you to stay awake!”
Only he’s not responding to you anymore, his eyes closed again.
“Goddamnit”
You tried to lift him off the ground, but almost fell over once you got him upright. You weren't in your strongest state, and Finnick not being in any conscious state wasn't helping, his whole body weight leaning on you. You put your arm around his shoulder and put the other around his middle, trying to keep him standing so you could move. But with your hands busy trying to keep Finnick upright, you had no way to defend yourself. All the commotion must have alerted other tributes, but you didn't know how many there were to begin with, or who even started the disturbance that allowed you to break free. You thanked whoever was listening that the two of you made it out of the swamp without running into further trouble, and entered an opening of trees that finally allowed bright sunlight to touch upon your skin. You can hear footsteps close by, and prepare for the worst.
“We need to get the two of you back to the others” A familiar voice enters your ears, and you didn't know you could ever be so grateful to find Beetee.
You make your way to a lake not far away. When you get there, you refuse to leave Finnick’s side when Beetee had insisted you needed tending to as well. It was like an unspoken rule. Whenever one of you was hurt, the other didn't leave their side until you were sure they were going to be okay. But you weren't sure, and you weren't leaving him. So you lay down next to him, and the others knew it was useless to try and separate you.
After some time had passed, Finnick started to softly grunt and woke you up with him. Your face contorted in a mix of anger and pain. You leapt up into his arms. It hurt him a little with how tight you were holding him, but he didn't dare let go. Still a little afraid it wasn't real. But he could feel your breathing against his neck, hear you crying in his ear, and hear your heart beating in your chest, in sync with his, you were here, and you were okay.
#finnick odair x reader#finnick odair#finnick x reader#finnick x you#finnick x y/n#finnick odair x you#finnick odair x y/n#the hunger games#hunger games#catching fire#hunger games catching fire#mockingjay#hunger games mockingjay#the ballad of songbirds and snakes#angst#angst with a happy ending#hurt/comfort#finnick angst#finnick hurt/comfort#finnick odair angst#finnick odair angst/comfort#finnick fic#finnick blurb#finnick fanfic#finnick imagine#finnick odair imagine#finnick odair fic#finnick odair fanfic#hunger games fanfiction#mockingjay fanfic
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little things — jeon wonwoo | 1,497 words | fluff
(or, three things that remind you wonwoo's another person like you, and not just one of the most popular idols in the world)
sometimes i shell walnuts for my family because (incoherent sounds) (something akin to peeling an orange for people you love) (they love walnuts more than i do)
gender neutral reader. warnings: none.
you know for a fact that jeon wonwoo is a superstar.
he's extremely popular. he travels the world for his work. you're not the only person in the world who has a crush on him or is in love with him. but you are the only person who gets to have him like this — watching him do the dishes while you're sitting on the sink counter and kicking your feet, wearing his hoodie.
you both share your household chores, but he's made sure you don't touch a single spoon or bowl because of all the cooking you do. and you're definitely not going to complain when you get to watch him work, his muscles flexing as he meticulously dries every dish he's washed.
he's currently talking about something mingyu did in practice but you're not really paying attention to his words. you're just...watching him.
he's used to it at this point in your relationship, but he still gets flustered sometimes, like he is now. you can tell by the way his head is bowed and there's a small smile on his face, and there's no doubt he's blushing, if he's going to let you look at him.
"take a picture," he says without looking up. "it'll last longer."
when you don't reply, he looks up to find you staring at him in no doubt a lovesick manner, and you're right. he is blushing, and you're filled with the sudden urge to drag him away from the dishes and kiss him silly.
"did you hear a word i said?"
"no," you say easily, finding no point in trying to act like you were listening. you're more enthralled by the fact that one of the most popular idols in the world is washing dishes in a kitchen he shares with you. dishes that are a result of an impromptu baking session at two in the morning because neither of you could sleep.
it makes you feel small for some reason, so you just scoot closer to where he's standing.
"tell me again?"
wonwoo shakes his head. "mingyu would be happy to tell you—" he cuts himself off with the most uncharacteristic, un-wonwoo sound you've heard in your life. you don't think he's ever made that sound before.
you jump off the counter to witness wonwoo wiggling his arms like those floaty things in car dealerships, like he's got a spider on his arm or something.
you're almost too afraid to ask if it is a spider because it's always wonwoo who chases away the insects in your house, but all he does is show you the sleeves of his sweatshirt. they're wet and dripping water onto the floor. you can't help but let out a little giggle despite trying your best not to.
"it's your fault," wonwoo says, pushing his sleeves up and wincing.
"excuse me?"
"your fault for sitting there and being so pretty. looking at me."
it's not often that wonwoo's what you'd call sappy, especially with his words. you hold his face in your hands, taking in the blush that's deepened when he realizes what he's said out loud. who knew your boyfriend could sing and dance for hours on end and do stuff like bungee jumping only to be defeated by wet sleeves?
"i'll do them if you read me something to sleep."
"deal."
you get startled awake by the sound of a rhythmic tapping. wonwoo isn't next to you, either. your hand reaches out to the most threatening thing you can find to defend yourself with, but you're not sure your bedside lamp is an ideal option.
"wonwoo?" you call out, hoping it's him and no one else.
the tapping sound stops immediately.
"i'm outside," he calls out, and you let out a sigh of relief. slipping into wonwoo's hoodie, you make your way to the living room, the marble floor underneath your feet cold enough to sting.
wonwoo's sitting on the floor, seemingly unbothered by the cold. when he spots you, he opens his arms wordlessly to let you settle down into his lap. he runs cold, just like you do, which gives you all the more reason to cuddle him.
"sorry, sweetheart," he says, kissing your cheek. "i didn't mean to wake you up."
"you didn't," you say, not entirely untruthfully. you'd been half-awake before you heard the sound of whatever he'd been doing in his living room. it's then that you realize there's a hammer next to his feet, a newspaper spread out before him, half filled with...walnuts? the other half of the paper has empty shells.
"what..."
"you said we ran out of walnuts yesterday, so i went to the farmer's market when you were at work. they taste really good. we should go together this week."
"...just because i said the salad could use some walnuts?"
"just because."
you turn to hide your face , blaming the early hours of the morning for all the mushiness you're feeling. your boyfriend, who has practice in a few hours, and needs his sleep more than you do, is sitting on the cold floor of your living room shelling walnuts for your salad like there's nothing else he'd rather do.
"you're too good to me."
"i'm just perfect for you," he grins, and you respond by tousling his hair till it's a mess of your liking. it's not long before you've learned how to shell them without hurting your thumb, wonwoo feeding you a stray walnut every now and then.
wonwoo's gaming setup is grander than you expected one to be. it's probably because you weren't really familiar with gaming apparatus before wonwoo, but it's also probably because he just really loves gaming.
it's not just a gaming pc with a fancy keyboard and the usual gaming chair — it's two huge screens next to each other, lighting underneath the desk and in front of him so it's good for when he needs to stream himself, as well as the usual clutter of his desk. you can tell he's as passionate about it as he is with the important things in his life.
not to mention the little polaroids of you and him, him and his friends, and some cats he's photographed strung up together that came about when he pulled you in one afternoon and asked you to help him decorate the place a bit better.
even though it's not your cup of tea, you really enjoy watching wonwoo game. he knows and likes it just as much as you do. you know wonwoo's down for teaching you whatever game you want to learn whenever the two of you are free, but you'd much rather just watch him be so focused on trying to level up. it's kind of hot, really.
there had been this one time you pulled up a chair to watch wonwoo game with seungcheol, hoshi and vernon. he spent a good chunk of time explaining the rules of the game to the others because they'd never heard of it before, but he lost his train of thought halfway through the game and kept giggling sporadically.
you really had no idea of what had been going on, and wonwoo had to take breaks in between, laughing and explaining the unfortunate situation of vernon blowing up his character again and again, repeatedly promising it was a mistake and not something he was doing for laughs.
after that, wonwoo bought a pair of earphones just so you could listen in on conversations with his friends when it wasn't a professional livestream. hearing hoshi swear repeatedly was just as funny as trying to stop yourself from laughing loud enough to alert the others of your presence.
the thing is, wonwoo's always tried to make space for you in his life in whatever little ways he can, and you're reminded of it when he lets out a soft curse, fumbling with something in his hands.
it's those same earphones you use when you sit with him and watch him play. you haven't gotten the time to use them recently, because of your busy schedules, so it's a pleasant surprise to see them in the outside world, in the walk you're currently on. but they're tangled up so badly that wonwoo isn't able to undo them.
you take them from him with his permission and untangle them quite easily. maybe you should get back to using them more often with him.
"wouldn't headphones be more convenient, though?"
wonwoo looks at you like you've asked him why it's not okay to call yourself a tiger.
"then how am i supposed to listen to music with you?"
oh, you think.
jeon wonwoo might be a superstar. he might travel the world for his work and have people in love with him to some extent, but to you, he's your boyfriend. your wet sleeves-fearing, walnut-shelling, earphones-owning boyfriend. which is simply a lot of words for the best boyfriend in the world.
#yeah. so. this happened#jeon wonwoo#jeon wonwoo fluff#wonwoo#wonwoo fluff#seventeen#seventeen fluff#svt#svt fluff#waldau writes
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Could I Have This Kiss Forever?
Joel Miller x fem!reader
Important Note: This blog supports Palestine and does not condone or share the views of the creator of TLOU. Please interact with tlou critically and be aware of the zionistic views of its creator.
Word count-4.5k
Warnings- s.mut (18+ ONLY!), Valentine's Day fic, fluff, mutual pining, set in Jackson after the first game/season, reader is a baker/cook, reader can remember life before the outbreak but no age specified, food mention, oral (f receiving), praise, unprotected, soft pleasure dom Joel, squirting, feelings, no use of y/n
Notes- Happy Valentine's Day @saradika I'm your secret Valentine!!! I loved the prompt you gave and the idea came to me almost immediately! And I tried to fit as many things as you mentioned in this as I could! I hope you like it! Enjoy!
@flightlessangelwings-updates is my update blog so please follow that and turn on post notifs to stay up to date on when I post new things!
~
Joel could see his breath as he walked down the street. There was a nip in the air, and it stung his face as the cold hit what little exposed skin he had. Wrapping his jacket a little tighter, Joel huffed as the light layer of snow crunched beneath his feet. It wasn’t unusual for there to be cold and snow in mid February in Jackson, yet the glistening white in the trees always made its residents awestruck. The setting sun illuminated the land in a way that made the surrounding look like a painting. Even Joel had to appreciate the beauty of it all.
It reminded them of a simpler time, a more peaceful time. It reminded everyone of a time before the world collapsed, before there was the daily worry for their lives. Joel used to push those thoughts down. He used to try to ignore the sting of Sarah’s absence. But, the longer he was in Jackson with Tommy and Ellie and others who he would soon call friends, the more he allowed himself to think about his lost daughter and how much she would have loved the snow.
But, a tantalizing smell broke Joel out of his thoughts. As he passed the little building on the corner which had become a bakery slash bar, his thoughts turned to someone else: you.
You brought a new light to Jackson the day you arrived, and Joel was immediately taken with you. From the way your eyes captivated him to the way your smile made his heart flutter in a way no one else did, Joel was a goner from the moment he laid eyes on you. He kept it a secret, though. Life was hard enough as it was, even for those lucky enough to find their way to Jackson.
If Joel only knew you harbored the same secret he did…
Inside the building was the complete opposite of the chilly outside. It was warm and bright and the smells of various cakes and desserts permeated the space as you worked. You actually felt hot enough to shed your outer layers and rolled up your sleeves. You were so focused on the task in front of you that you didn’t hear the door open until a gruff voice cleared his throat.
Jumping up with a gasp, you looked up and locked eyes with… “Joel,” you breathed as you relaxed, “You startled me!”
“Sorry,” he helped his hands up in mock surrender, “I just wanted to check in on ya,” he continued, “It’s gettin’ late and you’re still here workin’ hard.”
“Oh,” you replied in a daze as you noticed the lack of sun from behind where Joel stood in the doorway, “Lost track of time, I guess,” you murmured, “I wanted to finish all these tonight for the big Valentine’s dance tomorrow night so I can enjoy the party too.”
Valentine’s Day… Joel didn’t even realize that was tomorrow. “Want a little help?” he offered, “I ain’t much good in the kitchen, but you can tell me what to do.”
You smirked as your mind ran with the thought of telling big strong Joel what to do, “Go wash your hands and you can help me with these last few cakes.”
“Yes ma’am,” Joel replied with a smirk of his own and both of you felt like the room just got a lot warmer.
Joel shrugged off his jacket and rolled up the sleeves of his flannel shirt before he went to the sink to wash his hands and made his way back to you. He was positive Ellie would give him a hard time if she caught him like this- working with little sweets and desserts, following your orders instead of taking the lead. But, Joel also found he didn’t mind. He enjoyed the feeling of domestic bliss, even if it was only for this one evening.
“You’re really good at this,” Joel commented as he watched you meticulously decorate the various cakes you spent all afternoon baking.
“Thanks,” your heart fluttered at the compliment from Joel Miller, “I’ve always been creative since I was a kid. I liked making things… art and stuff. I actually wanted to be some kind of artist when I was younger, before…” you trailed off as you stopped and raised your eyes to meet his.
Both of you froze for a moment as you gazed into the other’s eyes. Time stopped, as did your breathing. The roughness around Joel’s eyes framed the softness that lay hidden there. Scars on his face told you he had been through a lot, but then again so had you. As you looked at him, studying his face, you completely forgot to breathe, losing yourself in his features.
Joel felt himself tense as he stared back at you. The warmth that surrounded him felt like it came from you, not the heat in the room. He wasn’t too good with the whole comforting thing, but Joel wanted nothing more than to take you in his arms and hold you close, protecting you from everything around. Normally, he was good at burying his feelings, but he slipped when his eyes flashed down to your lips for just the briefest moment.
Clearing his throat right away, Joel leaned back, breaking the trance you both were in, “Yeah,” he finally said, filling the silence, “You are an artist that’s for sure. You’re certainly better than me anyway,” he muttered as he held up the messily decorated cake in his hands.
You couldn’t help but burst into laughter, “Joel,” you covered your face with your hands, “I’m sorry, I…” you wheezed as your laughter became uncontrollable.
“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up,” Joel rolled his eyes. It didn’t bother him though, he knew he had many strengths and even before the outbreak, he couldn’t decorate a cake to save his life. Plus, the sound of your laughter was music to his eyes, and Joel loved to hear it whenever he could.
“Here,” you took a few breaths to gather yourself, “Let me show you a trick.”
You moved over to sit next to him and took the spatula from his hand, brushing it ever so slightly as you did so. A chill ran up your spine at the slight contact, but you swallowed hard and fought to keep your composure.
“You alright, sweetheart?” Joel asked, noticing the slight change in your demeanor.
“Fine,” you replied back right away, “Here,” you used the spatula to scoop some icing and ran it along the cake, “Just like painting a picture.”
“Beautiful,” Joel mumbled under his breath, completely ignoring the cake you were decorating.
Luckily, or unluckily, for Joel, you didn’t notice as you became too enthralled with what you were doing.
“There!” you sounded triumphant as you put the finishing touches on what cake Joel had worked on, “Ta da!” you held it up with pride and beamed at him for a moment before you set it down and turned to the far table, “Now just a few more to go…”
“I ain’t going nowhere,” Joel said, “As long as you won’t shit on my decorating anymore, I’ll stay and help… If you’ll have me.”
A mix of emotions ran though you. You wanted to laugh at him again for his poor decorating skills, but you also didn’t want him to leave your side. So, biting your lip to stifle a giggle, you replied, “Ok I promise I won’t laugh at you again.”
“I’ll hold you to it,” Joel smirked, sending a wave of heat through your body.
Hours passed and it was well into the night before you and Joel finally finished. You enjoyed his company, and the two of you filled the time shooting the shit while you worked. It took some time, but Joel finally let his guard down around you, and you loved that he trusted you enough to relax. And you trusted him too, and felt safe around him.
“Well I think that does it,” you sighed heavily as you wiped you face, “That was the last one!”
Joel looked at you with pure admiration on his face, as if he were a lovestruck teenager and the world was normal again. Then as he studied your face closer, he couldn’t help but let out a single soft laugh.
“What is it?” you asked, puzzled.
“Ya got a little…” Before he realized what he was doing, Joel reached out and brushed your face with his hand, wiping a smudge of frosting off your cheek, “There.”
You gasped softly as you stood there stunned, frozen in place as you felt a tingle where Joel touched your skin. Absentmindedly, you touched your cheek with your fingers, relishing in the lingering warmth of his touch.
Joel was about to apologize, but he also found himself in a trance. You just looked so beautiful, and he wasn’t sure what to make of your reaction to his touch.
But, before he could say hating, you broke the silence. “Hey Joel…” you started, suddenly feeling nervous as your skin warmed so much that you were sure the reminanta of the frosting on your face were about to sizzle.
“Yeah?”
“I uhh…” you fumbled over your words, your gaze dropping to the ground as you felt his eyes on you, “Thank you,” you breathed as you looked at Joel again, “I would have been here all night if you weren’t helping me.”
A flash of disappointment showed on Joel’s face before he glanced over your shoulder and noticed the hint of sun in the horizon, “It looks like we still did,” he muttered as he motioned toward the window.
You let out a heavy sigh, “Well fuck I guess we did,” you chuckled nervously, still feeling the lingering tension in the air between the two of you.
It hung in the air unspoken between the two of you: It’s Valentine’s Day.
You fiddled with your fingers nervously as you weren’t sure what to say. The air suddenly felt thick between the two of you, as if there was so much you both had to say. Yet, neither of you had the courage to break what you already had.
Joel cleared his throat as he closed the gap between your bodies and mumbled your name, “Listen I…” he rested a hand on your shoulder.
“Yes?” you looked at him with a hopeful expression, your lips parted as you breathed heavily.
“I uhh,” Joel stuttered. He scanned your face, taking in every inch of your beauty as the words were right on the tip of his tongue. Instead, he said, “Happy Valentine’s Day, sweetheart.”
A brief flash of disappointment showed on your face before you gathered yourself, “Happy Valentine’s Day, Joel,” you replied in a hushed tone.
“Why don’t we go get some sleep before the big party tonight?” he offered, “I’ll put this all away for ya.”
“Yeah, ok,” you sounded distant, “See you tonight then?”
Joel smiled, “I wouldn’t miss it.”
That lifted your spirits, “See you tonight, Joel.”
*
The Valentine’s Day dance was a huge success, as were your cakes. Everyone made sure to stop and compliment you before they went back to dancing and enjoying their time. Some even asked you for a dance themselves, but you turned them all down. No, there was only one person you wanted to dance with, and he stood on the other end of the room.
“Go on, ask her to dance,” Ellie nudged Joel, “Or are you too fuckin’ scared?” she added with a tease, “Chicken!”
“Ellie,” Joel sighed as he rolled his eyes, “Just stay out of it, alright.”
Knowing when to back down, she raised her hands in surrender, “Alright, alright,” she slid her hands in her pockets and started to walked away before she glanced over her shoulder, “But don’t come crying to me when someone else asks her to dance cause you were too chickshit to.”
“Ellie!” Joel snapped, but she ran off and disappeared into the crowd, presumably to find Dina. Joel knew about Ellie’s little crush on her, but he decided to let her come to him on her own terms about it. He just wanted his kid to be happy after all…
Joel’s thought turned from Ellie to you as he scanned the room and found you again. You had moved slightly, but you still stood at the edge of the crowd, not dancing with anyone. You looked stunning as you found yourself right under a light as if it was a spotlight just for you. Your smile lit up the room as yet another person came up to compliment you, and Joel’s chest tightened as the person was obviously asking you to dance.
“Shit…” he mumbled under his breath, thinking he missed his chance.
But, Joel was surprised to see them walk away with a disappointed look on their face while you stayed in that same spot. You fiddled with your fingers for a moment before you scanned the room and locked eyes with Joel. Freezing in place, your mouth parted to let out a deep exhale.
“Fuck it,” Joel muttered to himself, thinking it was now to never. He crossed the room, greeting his brother on the way before he walked up to you. Joel tried to act calm and smooth to hide the nerves he secretly harbored, “Howdy ma’am,” he nodded his head once in a greeting as you giggled, “May I have this dance?” He extended a hand to you.
“Joel Miller,” you breathed, “I thought you’d never ask,” you grinned as you slid your hand in his.
You knew he didn’t usually dance, and your heart pounded in your chest as you wondered why he broke his streak. And the warmth of his large hand in yours radiated throughout your body, making you a little dizzy. But, Joel was there to catch you, wrapping his arm around you and pulling you close as the tune changed to a slower ballad.
Leaning against his sturdy chest, you swayed with Joel to the rhythm of the song. But, you could barely hear it over the pounding of your heart. You barely even heard when Joel said something to you, or said your name when you didn’t respond.
“What?” you blinked as you focused your eyes.
“I said them desserts seem to be a hit,” Joel repeated himself as he adjusted his grip on your body.
“Yeah,” you replied, “Even those messy looking ones,” you smirked.
“Hey you promised,” he quipped back with no malice in his tone and a soft grin on his face.
“I know, I know,” you laughed softly, “I’m sorry. They still taste good though.”
“They do,” Joel’s tone dropped, as did his gaze.
“Joel…” you breathed as you felt the burning heat of his gaze on you.
“Listen, I uhhh,” he murmured your name in a low tone, “I wanna kiss you so fuckin’ bad right now,” the moan you let out went right to Joel’s cock, “But I don’t wanna share ya with all these people.”
Another moan escaped your lips and time felt frozen around you and heat rose from your pussy all throughout your body, “Joel…” you whined his name again as desperation took over you.
Joel leaned in closer to you, his lips hovering over yours as the slow sway of your bodies slowed down. He wanted to kiss you so badly. He wanted this for so long. But, Joel was also secretly a romantic, and he didn’t want his first kiss with you to be witnessed. He wanted to selfishly keep that to himself. So, instead of closing the gap, he murmured in a low tone, “Wanna get out of here?”
“Yes,” you breathed immediately as you pulled away enough to look into his eyes. You gasped softly when you saw the deep need that burned behind his eyes, and you knew exactly what he was thinking. “Let’s go, Joel.” you slipped your hand into his and let him lead you out the door and away from the party and wandering eyes.
From the other side of the room, Ellie grinned widely as she watched the two of you slip away from the party.
*
The moment the door to Joel’s house closed, it was like a flip switched in his head. “Can I kiss you now, baby?” he asked in a low tone as he backed you up against the door.
“You better,” you smirked back as you grabbed his collar, “And call me that again,” you groaned as you bucked your hips against his.
Joel grunted as he grinned against your cheek, “Baby…” his low grumble went right to your core as he took your lips with his in a heated kiss.
His beard tickled your skin as his lips warmed yours. Joel’s strong hands gripped you tightly as he pulled you against his body. You clung to his shirt as his kiss warmed you from the inside while his chest warmed your own as you felt yourself pressed flush against him. Despite the dizzying feeling in your head, you knew you were safe in his arms and that Joel wouldn’t let you fall.
“Shall we take this to the bedroom?” you purred against his lips between kisses.
“Thought you’d never ask,” Joel smirked back.
You erupted into giggles as Joel yanked you enthusiastically down the hall. Hands roamed all over each other’s bodies as you each tugged at the other’s clothing. Joel closed the gap between your lips over and over again, desperately kissing you between shoving clothes off.
A trail of clothing led the way to Joel’s room until neither of you had anything on. You felt like you were in a whirlwind as you allowed Joel to guide you though his house until your legs hit the edge of his bed. A gasp escaped your lips as you realized where you were, but you quickly gathered yourself. Grabbing his broad shoulders, you flung yourself back onto his bed, both of you exhaling sharply as you landed with Joel on top of you.
“Shit, baby,” Joel muttered as he took a moment to study your naked figure beneath him, “You’re so fuckin’ pretty.”
“So are you, Joel,” you breathed as you cupped his face, burying your hands in his hair.
Joel let out another sharp breath, “Well don’t you know how to make a man feel special?”
“Just like you know how to treat a lady,” you smirked back.
“Oh you ain’t seen nothin’ yet,” Joel’s tone dropped as he dipped his head down and took your lips once more. He swallowed the moan you let out and bucked his hips against yours, relishing the feeling on your skin against his after so many nights imagining this.
Joel broke away from the kiss to make his way down your neck, licking and nibbling your sensitive skin along the way. Your mouth dropped open as your mind swam in the pleasure that was Joel’s kisses. But, the sensations only heightened when he reached your breast and wrapped his lips around your nipple.
The cry you let out went right to Joel’s cock, and every moan from you only made him need you more. Joel’s tongue swirled around your nipple as he kneaded your other breast with his calloused hand. You arched your back to allow him more access to your body and buried your hand in his hair, tugging slightly every time he sucked at your nipple just a little bit harder.
“Joel… Fuck…” you whined as he kissed his way to your other breast with a low groan and gave it the same treatment.
He hummed against your skin, rocking his hips against your already soaking wet pussy as he showered you with devotion. As much as Joel wanted to take his time and savor the moment, savor you, his need was too great.
“Shit baby,” Joel breathed as he kissed his way down the front of your body, “You taste to fuckin’ good,” he growled as he eyed your pussy and settled between your parted legs, “But I bet your pussy tastes even better.”
Before you could laugh at his antics, or even appreciate his humor, Joel’s tongue swirled around your clit and licked up and down your folds, shoving every other thought from your body. You cried out in pleasure as your body already trembled under his touch.
“Fuck!” you screamed as you gripped the sheets tightly.
“Fuck me, you do taste good, baby,” Joel groaned as he came up for air for a moment before he dove back into you.
You cried out even louder as you moved your hands to his shoulders for support. Joel growled into you as he hiked one of your legs over his shoulder, opening your body up to him more. Tears filled your eyes as his tongue hit your clit perfectly, and you knew you weren’t going to last.
Especially then Joel pushed two tick fingers inside of you while his tongue contoured tracing patterns on your clit.
“Joel! Fuck!” you screamed, “Yes!”
“You gonna cum for me, baby?” he murmured, his lips hovering over your pussy just for a moment.
“Yes, Joel,” you whimpered, “You’re gonna make he cum if you keep doing that,” your hips bucked on their own as his fingers pumped in and out of you in a steady rhythm.
“Good,” he grinned before he covered your cunt with his lips once more and sucked harder.
The moans you let out echoed in the room as you felt your climax quickly build. Your core tightened as you gasped when his fingers hit that sweet spot inside of you. And before you could warn him, you came hard into Joel’s mouth. You gushed as your body felt like it was floating in the pleasure Joel gave you and you screamed his name loudly as wave after wave of pleasure coursed through your body.
Joel kept going until he heard you whimper, determined to pull every punch of your claim from you and lap up every drop of your release. When he finally broke away, both of you gasped loudly. You flopped down flat, limp from exhaustion, and Joel sat up to admire how beautiful you looked.
“Shit, baby,” Joel groaned, “That was better than them cakes.”
You blinked your eyes open and met Joel’s gaze. The two of you froze for a moment before you burst into laughter, “I never knew you were so funny, Joel.”
He leaned forward, covering your body with his own, “There’s a lot you don’t know about me, sugar,” he hummed in amusement as his lips hovered over yours.
“Then I want to learn them all,” you whispered against his lips.
“Me too, baby,” he murmured before he took your lips in a slow kiss.
You moaned into his mouth as you wrapped your arms and legs around him, “Joel,” you breathed, “I need you to fuck me now.”
“Yes ma’am,” he replied with a huff as he positioned himself at your entrance.
Both of you gasped as the tip of his cock poked at your pussy. Joel broke away just enough to watch your face as he slowly started to push in, feeling the warmth of your wetness around him. Your eyes snapped shut as you savored the stretch of his cock as you clawed at his back. Joel tried to keep his own eyes open, not wanting to miss a moment, but you felt too good that he couldn’t help but close them.
Joel mumbled your name as he bottomed out inside you, “Shit you feel so fuckin’ good, sweetehart.”
“Joel…” was all you could say, too lost in the bliss to form any coherent thought.
The bed creaked as Joel started a slow rhythm, rocking himself in and out of you. Once again, your moans filled the room in a beautiful melody as Joel fucked you. Only this time, his own grunts and groans harmonized with yours, creating an all new song.
Heat rose in the room despite the chilly air outside as Joel picked up his pace. Feeling you engulf him made him forget about the ache in his back as he thrust his hips back and forth over and over again. Joel was just as lost in you as you were in him, and he was sure neither of you were going to last much longer.
After so long of wanting you, finally having you almost made Joel cry. He murmured your name over and over again as he mumbled how beautiful you looked on his cock, “So fuckin’ pretty, baby,” he grunted, “Fuck…”
“Fuck… Yes… Joel…” was all you could form as you felt another orgasm quickly approach, “Gonna cum…”
“Show me how pretty you are when you cum on my cock, sweetheart,” he growled as he picked up his pace, his hips slapping against yours as he chased his own climax.
“Fuck!” you screamed as you tightened your grip on Joel and trembled under his body as your second peak hit.
“That’s it baby,” Joel groaned, “That’s my girl,” he gasped as he felt your inner muscles squeeze him tightly.
Your climax triggered his own and with a moan of your name, Joel spilled himself deep inside of you, filling you to the brim. Chills ran up your spine as you felt him cum in you, and you moaned softly as the aftershocks of your own climax pulsed through your body at the same time.
Joel kept his pace as long as he could until he pulled back once last time, pulling out of you, before he collapsed on the bed next to you. You gasped as you felt a sudden emptiness, but Joel immediately wrapped you in his arms and pulled you close.
No words were spoken as the two of you came down from your highs. But this time, it was a comforting silence in the air. The tension from the day before was gone now that the two of you finally showed your true feelings for the other. Joel breathed deeply as he stroked you back comfortingly, and you smiled against his chest as you felt the beat of his heart.
You stayed like that for some time before you broke the silence, “Hey Joel,” you wriggled out of his embrace and straddled him, “Can I ask you something?”
“Shit, lookin’ like that you can have anything you want, baby,” Joel joked as he admired your naked form on top of him.
You grinned back at him as you rested your hands on his chest, “Will you be my Valentine?”
Joel’s face lit up as he grabbed you and yanked you down, crashing your lips together, “Always, baby,” he murmured between kisses. When you broke away for air, Joel gazed lovingly up at you, “Now why don’t you show me how pretty you are when you ride me?”
The moan you let out went right to both of your cores and it began a second sleepless night in a row for you and Joel. But, neither of you would complain at all.
#SpaceSistersSecretValentine#x reader#reader insert#joel miller#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#joel miller x y/n#joel miller x f!reader#joel miller x female reader#joel miller imagine#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller fic#joel miller fanfic#joel tlou#joel the last of us#joel the last of us x reader#joel tlou x reader#pedro pascal fandom#pedro pascal characters#pedro pascal cinematic universe#the last of us fic#the last of us fanfic#the last of us fanfiction#tlou fanfic#tlou fanfiction#tlou fic#pedrostories#pedro pascal character fanfiction
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what once was mine | ch 4
Loki x Reader
Series Summary: When watching what once was supposed to be the rest of his life, in an empty room in the TVA, Loki sees someone he can't recognize; a girl who's all tenderness and loose smiles, and most importantly, she was smiling at him.
A/N: Not sure if I'm completely happy with how this chapter came out, but I hope you still enjoy it.
Masterlist | Read ch 3 here
Loki had watched through a checkered screen how you held onto his hand as if he were your whole world. He had watched the love in your eyes and the smile on your lips, all directed at him. And now, he watched as you, in flesh and bone right in front of him, walked away.
There was a foreign feeling consuming his heart the more you distanced yourself from him. It was akin to loss, but how could he lose something that wasn't even his?
He was about to make the mistake of going after you when Mobius finally returned from the storage room he had been talking to you in.
"What happened?" Loki asked with a hint of urgency, his brows furrowed.
Mobius took in a long breath and then let it go past his lips. "She said she wants nothing to do with you."
Loki's frown only deepened, his eyes shifting between Mobius and the place you had disappeared into. If anything, he looked slightly offended. "Why?"
"Well, it's pretty obvious that she watched her Loki die, right?" Mobius gestured around, sounding a little fed up with all of this. "So it's a delicate subject, give her time, don't get on her face, don't be obnoxious, and she'll likely come around and be willing to answer whatever it is you wanna ask."
Loki blinked at the words, chewing at the inside of his cheek. "I'm not obnoxious."
─── ·❆· ───
"Stop looking at me like a lost puppy," you grumbled with a scowl on your features, gripping tightly onto your food tray.
Loki, who stood right beside you, scoffed. "I am not. I'm looking at the rice you're standing right in front of."
You breathed in, slowly, holding yourself back from rolling your eyes. It's been three weeks since Mobius tried to reintroduce you two, and for the past two weeks, you've gained a new shadow. He doesn't talk much; or interacts much with you at all for that matter. But he's always there.
TVA's cafeteria was usually bustling with people this time of day, which was exactly why you always came by at least an hour earlier; but today you got caught up with work and there was no other option than to brave the crowds, otherwise, you'd stay without lunch.
When you'd picked up everything you wanted to eat, you turned around and surveyed the spacious room for any vacant tables. By the corner and near the railings that overlooked the city—or, what you would call a city here in the TVA, because to be honest, you still weren't sure what to name most of the things in this place—stood the only vacant table left, small and round, with two lonely chairs.
You closed your eyes and mumbled a curse under your breath. You made a beeline for the table, and you didn't have to look behind you to know that Loki was following your steps.
You settled into a chair and a few seconds later Loki made himself comfortable beside you. It was… strange, having him around. The racing of your heart every time he was near you was inevitable, but you were doing the impossible to dissociate any feelings from it. He was just another variant, that was it, nothing more. You just wished you knew what his obsession with you was all about, so what if he saw his would-be future with you? That was not yours or his life anymore.
"Your food is gonna get cold."
Loki's voice caught your attention, you glanced toward him with a frown, only now realizing that you'd been poking your food around with your fork for a while, lost in thought. For a heartbeat, you held his gaze, you allowed yourself to drown in those ever-familiar bright eyes that you'd missed so much. But before you could lose yourself in the ocean, you swam back up. This wasn't your Loki, no; you had to remind yourself of it, time and time again. For your own sake, you had to believe in that lie.
For the last couple of weeks that he'd been following you around, more and more you noticed the same glint in Loki's eyes, a mix between expectant and lost. You wondered if even he knew what exactly he wanted from you.
The only answer you gave to him was a low hum.
─── ·❆· ───
The days inside the TVA blend together easily, that was something you learned in your first few weeks here. In all fairness, it's what one would expect for a place out of time. Sometimes the day they captured you as just another variant felt like ages ago. Sometimes, it felt like just yesterday.
It had been difficult when you first arrived here, nearly unbearably so. In the blink of an eye, you had lost your entire life, everyone you still loved and held dear became unreachable. It was either starting a new life here, or ending your life altogether. For some reason, you still felt like living.
The TVA kept you busy then, enough for you to not succumb to panic. As days went by, it became easier; as time passed, or as Mobius would tell you, as time passed differently, you became almost numb to what you'd lost. Almost.
A sigh went past your lips as you ran your fingertips over the paper. Mobius usually had you go over each file reporting a possible new Loki variant. Finding patterns and creating connections they otherwise wouldn't have noticed. You tried not to dwell too much on the fact that you had to use your connection to the person you once loved as a form of work.
Your desk stood by the edge of the library, away from too much commotion, a cozy little space you'd given your own personal touch to over the time you'd been here. A few books here, a small cassette player there, a snack drawer, a sketchbook, a purple desk lamp; small things to remind yourself you were still human.
As much as you could, you made a new home here.
A shadow suddenly appeared over the paper in your hands, you straightened your posture on your chair before looking up.
Loki stood before you, in his dress shirt and dark jacket with the word variant on the back—you'd worn one of those too on your first days here, now that you recall. He held a fresh stack of papers in his hands that already had you internally groaning.
"Mobius sends his regards," Loki smirked as he dropped the papers on your desk.
"Great," you mumbled, sarcasm dripping from your words, "it's not like I wanted to sleep tonight anyway."
A beat passed and you could feel Loki's gaze still lingering on you. From the corner of your eyes you watched as his fingers nervously tapped the wood of your desk. You hated that you knew this habit of his oh so well.
"Maybe I could assist you." Loki pulled a chair from the empty table to your left, setting it on the edge of your desk so he could sit down. But before he did so, he said, "If you'd like."
He was giving you an out from spending time with him, even if that was clearly what he wanted. You nearly took it. Your lips hung open, ready to say something like; I work better alone, or go bother someone else. But your eyes suddenly had a faint burn behind them, your chest squeezing tight around your heart—the heart that still bled and missed him every day. "Knock yourself out," you found yourself saying, without looking up from your paperwork.
Loki sat down on his chair beside you, took a few of the papers in his hands, and for a good few minutes, the silence that lingered between you was, surprisingly, somewhat comfortable.
Stealing glances at you was inevitable. As Loki read the files in his hands, the words started to blur together, and he found his gaze drifting to you. He observed the way you'd frown slightly as you read over the lines, sometimes scoffing or mumbling something to yourself.
You were quite annoying, Loki had to agree with Mobius on that. Stubborn, closed off, and hard to read. If it were anyone else, Loki wouldn't even consider losing his time of day, but each time he saw you, his heart jumped and stumbled inside his chest, he grew short of breath, cold hands turning clammy. It was inevitable. His body acting against his will, as if his soul ached to touch yours.
He had to know why.
"May I ask," Loki began, hints of hesitance in his words.
Your eyebrow perked up a little, but you still refused to look at him.
Loki pursed his lips before speaking, "Mobius mentioned you've been here a while, that he found you could be useful. But he never went into detail." He let go of the papers in his hands, "how did you get here? Why didn't they prune you?"
You visibly tensed. Jaw setting tightly into place as you took in a short breath through your nose. For several moments, you kept quiet, eyes fixed on the same words in the file you held as you considered whether to humor him or not. You weren't sure why you answered, the words simply rolled off your tongue; a subconscious reaction to the sound of his voice.
"It was my fault, I tried to travel through time when I knew I shouldn't. They caught me pretty much immediately." You chuckled humorlessly, stealing a glance toward Loki only to find his eyes already focused on you. You nearly drowned again. "They kept me around because…" You hesitated, and then merely gestured to the scattered papers on your desk; "I know a lot about Lokis," you shrugged, "and they needed help with that."
A small frown came to Loki's features as he weighed your words. He twirled one of your pencils between his fingers. "Why would you travel through time if you knew you shouldn't?"
Immediately, Loki knew he'd touched a nerve. Your whole demeanor changed, it almost felt like a curtain had fallen over you and a whole new person sat beside him. What little you had began to open up, was back under lock and key.
You didn't raise your voice, you didn't lash out. You simply cleared your throat, turned away from him, and said; "I thought you wanted to stay to help me work. So either do that, or leave me be."
Loki's lips hovered, ready to retaliate with a quip of his own, but he bit back any words he might want to say. Give her time.
He nodded to no one in particular, and indeed went back to work.
Later at night, when the TVA was strangely quiet, and most people had already turned in for the night. Loki glanced beside him only to find you drifting into sleep; one hand holding your cheek and the other loosely holding a pencil that had scratched a weird, faint line into the file on your desk.
It felt unexpectedly intimate. Loki glanced from one side of the dim-lit library to the other, as if looking for a clue on what he should do.
Carefully, almost comically so, he took the pencil from your delicate hold and stacked the file you had with the small pile he'd created.
The desk lamp right beside you cast a faint glow over your features, shaping your cheekbones, nose, and lips. Loki couldn't help but notice, that the light also shaped a thin but rather deep scar running from your forehead to the beginning of your left eyebrow; from the look of it, it appeared to have been there for a while now.
Without giving himself too much room to overthink, Loki reached out and gave a single push to your shoulder. His fingers tingled from your warmth.
You stirred awake, gasping softly as soon as you opened your eyes. You blinked several times, willing your mind to focus back on reality.
"I suppose we're done," Loki told you, keeping his voice just an octave lower as he turned his gaze to the small stack of papers. "If you're quick, you can still grab a few hours of sleep before the new day starts."
"Right," you breathed, running a hand through your hair. Eyebrows still furrowed as you processed what was happening.
You tidied your desk in silence, and Loki put the chair he had borrowed back in its place. He turned to you then, half expecting you to simply turn around and walk away. You didn't, and maybe it was a trick of the light, or the fact that he could visibly notice your eyes dropping from tiredness, but your features were the softest he had ever seen them be. A quick glimpse of the girl he'd first seen from the life he was supposed to have.
Loki held his breath. He wasn't sure why, but he did.
"Thank you for the help," you gave him a tight-lipped smile, refusing to hold his gaze for more than a second, "see you around."
With that, you turned around and left. Loki's heartbeat kept the same rushed pace until he reached his own small bedroom.
⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ
Read ch 5 here
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#loki x reader#loki laufeyson#loki imagine#loki#marvel#loki series#loki x you#marvel x reader#loki x female reader#imagine#fanfic#angst#fluff#what once was mine#loki fanfic#my story#loki laufeyson x reader
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What if, after Vecna is defeated, Eddie lives and is recovering in the hospital and one day he's just gone. Like, Steve and the kids come to visit and his hospital room doesn't even exist anymore. It's just a blank stretch of wall. The nurses, nurses they know worked with Eddie, say they've never heard of Eddie Munson and there's never been a room where the kids insist there was the day before. Anyone else they ask says they've never heard the name, even though it was only weeks ago that the entire town formed a mob to hunt him down. Hopper and Murray look into it and there's no record of an Edward Munson in any database anywhere. His previous arrests are gone, his fingerprints, record of Wayne becoming his legal guardian, his social security number, his birth certificate. Even his Uncle Wayne, gone without a trace. Like neither man ever existed.
They search for years, always hoping for word, or a return, or anything. But Eddie was there one day and gone the next. Apparently forever.
They mourn, all of them. He was part of the group, part of the family, and then he was gone with no fanfare or goodbye. Then he was gone and every force in the world pretended like he'd never been there in the first place.
Steve, quietly, takes it hard. He spends weeks crying himself to sleep, clutching the ruined battle vest to his chest. It's just unfair, is all, Steve thinks. '86 was supposed to be Eddie's year.
Time passes and they all grow up, all move away from Hawkins. Steve and Robin move to Indy; she starts college and Steve gets a job at a little bakery because he's a regular already and they're hiring.
He loves baking, finds it calming in a way very few things are for him anymore. After a few good years, the store becomes his, and he didn't know he could be this happy or satisfied with his life, after everything.
He never stops thinking of Eddie.
Close to Steve's 30th birthday, a little bookstore opens up in the vacant building across the way. Steve sees the owner sometimes, dark hair pulled into a sloppy bun, pale skin, the occasional hint of black ink under his dark clothes. Beautiful. They wave at each other almost every morning and Steve ignores the reminders of Eddie. They're commonplace now. Any man with long dark hair, tattoos, and black clothing stirs a spark of recognition in Steve's gut, and the disappointment still hurts even after a decade.
Weeks pass and Steve notices a new display in the window of the bookstore; those dnd guides all the boys have, the dice with too many sides, the little plastic figures and pots of paints and delicate brushes. He vows, the next time the kids are in town, they'll go over and he'll finally introduce himself to that probably nice man whose only sin was a slight resemblance to a boy from Steve's past.
The kids come for a visit only a few weeks later, and are just as enthusiastic about going to the bookstore as he is to take them. He has them help bake his secret-recipe sugar cookies, decorate them in a dnd theme (Erica and Max say they're dorky, and he agrees, despite being pleased with the results).
Steve heads to the bookstore first, to warn the guy about the veritable horde of feral young adults about to descend on his quiet store.
He walks in to the sound of a gently ringing bell and Metallica playing at low volume on the store's speakers. Steve has to ignore it or he'll walk out.
"Be right with you," a muffled voice calls out.
"Take your time," he responds. He browses with the container of cookies in his arms, taking in all the dnd stuff, the signs about dnd club meetings, the stacks of new release books and a couple cds.
"Sorry to keep you waiting," a soft, husky voice says back at the front of the store. It breaks Steve out in goosebumps.
"Don't worry about it. I'm from the bakery across the street, wanted to finally introduce myself. I brought goodies," he adds, sort of blushing.
He steps back up to the cash register, eyes finally settling on the owner he's only seen from afar and all the breath leaves his body. It leaves him lightheaded, dizzy.
Eddie Munson. Eddie. Munson. Stands behind the counter, hair in a bun with messy tendrils around his face. He looks the exact same. Maybe a few more lines around his mouth and eyes. But the same.
"Ed--Eddie?" Steve's voice croaks out. He barely manages to drop the cookies onto the counter and not the floor.
Eddie's deep brown eyes flood with tears, a hand--every finger with a ring--covers his mouth. "Steve," the other man sobs.
There's no hesitation as Steve flings himself into Eddie's arms, the other man catching him and holding him tight.
Eddie squeezes him, crying against Steve's shoulder. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," he repeats.
"I can't believe you're real," Steve murmurs between soft sobs, pressing his face against Eddie's neck.
"I'm real. I'm here," Eddie agrees. "I'm right here, sweetheart."
Steve pulls out of the embrace a little, just to look at Eddie's face. To see after all these years. He presses trembling fingers against the line of Eddie's jaw, and the other man leans into the touch, lets Steve trace the contours of his cheeks, his mouth.
"You're here," Steve agrees.
Their eyes lock, drink each other in, ten years of longing dancing at the knobs of Steve's spine.
"They took me away," Eddie says, deep brown of his eyes serious and pleading. "The government. They snuck me out in the middle of the night and forced me and Wayne to adopt new identities, sent us to New Mexico. Monitored us so I couldn't contact any of you. It killed me, Stevie. To be away from you. From Robin. The kids."
That snaps Steve out of his daze. "Oh, shit. The kids."
It's too late, though. The bell at the door jingles, the usual cacophony that accompanies the seven of them filling the little store in an instant.
Dustin's voice rings out, above the others, "this store is so fucking cool."
"Language," Eddie scolds on auto-pilot. When he realizes what he said and why, his eyes wash with new tears.
The kids turn, as one, to the man they never thought they'd see again.
Steve's fingers dance down Eddie's arm, finding his hand, twining their fingers together. Eddie tightens his grip. Steve's never letting go of this man ever again, and he knows with some deep, element certainty that Eddie feels the same.
"Eddie?" Dustin exclaims.
"Hiya, kid." Eddie smiles a little, ducks his head.
"What the fuck," Max says.
"Anyone have time for a story?" Eddie asks. He dashes away the few tears that track down his cheeks.
"We have all the time in the world," Steve agrees. Doesn't think before he lifts Eddie's hand and presses a kiss just below his knuckles.
#steddie#steve x eddie#steve harrington#eddie munson#ficlet#drabble#oneshot#the party#max mayfield#erica sinclair#robin buckley#platonic stobin#eddie is kidnapped by the government#witness protection#steve owns a bakery#eddie owns a bookstore#they're in love your honor#dustin henderson and eddie munson friendship#steve bakes eddie cookies#dnd themed baked goods#fluff#second chance at love#reconnecting#eddie's disappearance is based on a movie called so long at the fair
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