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#it feels like a show made by a close knit group of friends passionate about their ocs rather than a production by a full blown studio

sussexbound · 8 months

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Lately I've been reminiscing about the internet/blogging/fandom cultures in the late 2000s and early 2010s. Specifically about how it was a culture of free and open sharing of art, fic, crafts, time and skill without people monetizing absolutely everything.

In fandom circles we would constantly write and draw things for each other. There were fan-organized gift exchanges, competitions, and big bangs. Friends gifted art and fic to one another and this encouraged more art and fic to be produced. No one dared to charge for their fanworks back then because there was a very real fear of getting sued by folks like Anne Rice.

I know that this still happens in fandom circles to a certain extent, but over the years I have watched organizers struggle to get the numbers they once had, and more and more people not wanting to spend time creating stuff they won't get paid for. People also seem much less likely to freely donate their time and skills, also. I don't think that a site like A03 could be started today, and I sometimes wonder how long they will be able to continue operating, given it is run entirely by volunteers.

Back then we kept all our fan created stuff in fan spaces, and it was shared and created out of love and passion. It was almost like private correspondence within our little fandom in groups, and outside the prying eyes of show creators, movie producers, actors and book authors, and it was glorious.

I am still friends with and am still sharing creatively with friends I made during that time period (some I followed into later fandoms). I'm not sure I could say that of fandom friends I made later, with a couple of rare exceptions.

I don't know, I just feel like the commodification and monetization of fandom has really stilted creativity and connections over the years, and I'm hardly involved in fandom circles anymore, because I don't find it enriching and fun. It's just one more space trying to sell me stuff, or is so mired down in unnecessary, quasi-political drama (I blame tumblr, twenty-teens sjw culture and then later twitter and puriteen fandom cultures for the way some of this drama took root, mutated, and spread).

I guess I just miss community. There was a time when fandom spaces truly felt like community. We talked about and debated things in good faith, for the most part, we created art and fic out of love and passion and then shared those creative works freely, and it just doesn't feel that way to me anymore.

Listen, I'm not going to begrudge anyone who needs or wants to make money from their art. I get it. Life is hard, and the economy freakin' sucks, but the commodification of fandom, and the growing popularity of social media platforms and their unhealthy community dynamics did absolutely change fandom culture and not for the better, imo, and sometimes I just miss that old sense of close-knit community and free interchange of art and ideas I used to get in fandom from about 2005 - 2013.

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goddess-pan · 3 years

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Tailor!Reader in Dream SMP

Dsmp x reader prompt; Tailor!Reader in Dream SMP. Credit would be appreciated so more people can find this and make their own things based on it.

Can fully be read as platonic. GN!reader with they/them pronounce as a placeholder so anyone can adapt it however they want. Both general and character specific parts included.

Characters who have a lot written for/about; Eret, Ranboo, Foolish, Tommy, Technoblade, Philza and Michael. Mentioned; Tubbo, Sam Nook, Purpled and Foolish Jr.

This ended up being super long so I’m putting it under the cut in order not to clutter people’s pages. My personal favourite part is Phil’s and Techno’s part. These could be read as headcanons but are still available as a prompt(s) to use for anyone.

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The reader joining after the doomsday as a time frame in my mind.

The reader helping people patch up their current clothes since most of it got pretty banged up during the doomsday, and it's not like they can just go get a new outfit since quite a few people had just lost all their belongings and only had the clothes on their back. So at first prioritizing helping patch up the current clothing people were wearing and then moving on to making some simple fast to make and easy on the resources clothes for people. Just like basic shirts and shorts/pants, nothing fancy. Then when everyone has at least a couple of different clothes to change to and from starting their own business to sell people more if they wanted. However waving payment if they brought them the materials and what they wanted wasn't overly complicated.

People at first thinking they are just some chump who knows basic sewing or something. A very kind chump, but still a chump. So imagine their surprise when one day they are just walking by the reader's now established tailors and they see these absolutely stunning designs displayed at the windows.

Just like their reactions seeing these beautiful designs they can't help but stare at. I'd imagine some of them just doing a double take when they walk by, someone pressing their face up to the glass trying to see it closer, the braver ones going inside and talking to the reader about their designs and the more anxious and/or shy ones only going inside when the reader isn't there to look at designs closer.

And the reasons they like/are amazed by the designs vary also ! Some just have monkey brain that goes "Pretty. WANT", some who just love the colour and art of the pieces, some who imagine how epic this design or others would look on them, some who love the fashion aspect of it and of course the very small portion who actually know anything about tailoring/sewing and the amount of work that goes into making something intricate.

Some specific character/group interactions I thought of;

Making warm well insulated clothes for people moving to Snowchester so they don't freeze. +A warm cape for Ranboo for the same reason.

Eret being one of the firsts (if not the first) to get himself a fully tailored and customized outfit. Them also being the first and very possibly only person to get a dress or a skirt since most of the other people on the server prefer to wear pants (excluding maid dresses which people might get as joke). The reader crying in joy for getting to design something different for once. And hey if the reader ends up making a few extra ones that she didn't order, but decided to give her anyway it was all just some extra ones they had lying around, never mind the fact that the dresses/skirts are perfectly tailored for Eret and are her style. Just a coincidence, nothing suspicious there. Eret also models for the reader and once he even convinced them to hold a fashion show to showcase some of their work to the whole server. Of course he was the main model presenting the outfits.

At start of the reader beginning to display their designs at their shop Ranboo sees a really cool looking suit on display and his brain just goes "Want." He probably wouldn't be able to buy anything pre-made and be comfortable in it due to his physique. And him having just moved into the arctic and only starting to get settled in, he doesn't have comfortable enough funds for him to get something as expensive as a custom tailored suit AND have enough for any possible rent that he might be required to pay.

Eventually when he gets richer he starts considering getting one but the anxious side of him always ends up winning and he doesn't. However once he finally gets the courage to go commission the suit for himself he doesn't regret it at all. The reader did their best to not overwhelm him and to make it the best possible experience. Just imagining the absolute joy he would feel for having a properly fitting suit that's made just for him, not too short sleeves nor too wide torso and shoulders, just perfect. If he ends up ordering a couple more suits that's between him and the reader. He actually ends up probably being their most frequent and reliable customer.

And we should all know why that is, but let me clarify just in case; Michael.

The reader basically becoming Michael's personal stylist (/hj) . Not only does Ranboo buy a god awful amount of clothes for Michael, the reader also makes some free ones for him. The free ones are things the reader felt like designing since they absolutely adore Michael and the ones Ranboo pays for are commissioned by him. Michael absolutely has the biggest wardrobe in the whole server. The reader learning how to make plushies so Michael could have some more toys, this learning experience including learning to crochet and knit to see what he like best.

Using their newly acquired plush making skills, the reader starts their quest to make some plushies for others after seeing people stare at the plushies wistfully either while they were working on them or seeing Michael with the plushies. People who got them include the minors, their close friends and basically anyone they thought might benefit from them. Some of the ones they made (that I could think of);

Of course a bee for Tubbo, but also throwing in a little ram one as well

Ranboo gets a grass block plush/pillow

Tommy gets a cobblestone block plush and a cow plush. He also later receives a Sam Nook plush while he's working on the hotel

Purpled getting two different sized ufos, one to hold and the other more of a big pillow

Eret definitely gets a flamingo plush

Foolish gets a totem and a gold block plushies

Phil gets crow plush as well these tiny fake coin and gem plushies (the latter causes problems for him which I'll expand upon later)

Techno gets a pig one as well as polar bear one

Back to the individual/group part

The reader just chilling w/ Foolish as a fellow artists. Them talking about both their arts and catching up every time the reader comes to deliver something to Snowchester when Foolish is building the mansion. Just two pretty peaceful artists talking about their passions. I’d imagine Foolish and the reader could relate to each other and their place in the server due to their similar hobbies/jobs as well as their similar time of joining the server. Foolish's first commission from them being an intricate blanket for Foolish Jr so he could have a more comfortable resting place. He may or may not end up receiving that and several other (though less intricate) blankets as well as a tiny shark plush to give to Foolish Jr. Later on when the reader gets better at either knitting or crocheting they end up making a tiny shark jumper with a hood for Foolish Jr as well. Foolish would definitely cry when he sees his tiny shark baby. Any commissions of clothes for himself tend to always take some time due to sheer amount of work needing to be done due to his size so he always makes sure the reader doesn’t already have a lot on their plate and that they know he’s fine with waiting if they need to take a break from it.

Then there's Tommy, who they sometimes teach more about sewing since he already knows some basics. Him probably being the first person aside from Michael they make a plush for, due to him demanding one once he saw the reader making them. Then proceeding to get three plushies in rapid succession. The first being the cobblestone, the second being the cow and the third one being the Sam Nook one. He ends up losing one of them during the prison fiasco and when the reader asks if he'd like a new one they only get the answer of "Don't want to think about what happened and the same one might make me do that". He then promptly receives new clothing (so he isn't wearing the same ones he was wearing in prison) and some extra blankets (for comfort) from the reader.

After Tommy meeting Michael does he use him to scam the reader to make them matching outfits for free? Yes, yes he does. Does it work? Yes, yes it does. Are they bothered by it? Not really, they look adorable in their matching outfits.

The reader being the source for Sam Nook's construction gear/clothes or at least the original patterns for them.

And then there's the arctic boys (minus Ranboo, who will still get mentioned) who are an interesting bunch clothing wise. The first one to commission the reader out of them would be Phil who got the original warm cape for Ranboo but also at the same time commissioned one for himself that would include slits for his wings. Eventually getting to design clothing for him which is always an exciting challenge with his wings. And when Phil finally manages to convince Techno to get something made for himself as well, Techno almost immediately gets addicted to having high quality clothing when they finish their first piece for him. The fun the reader has designing clothes for these boys is immeasurable with their different styles and needs in the clothing. Aside from clothing Techno also commissions them for a pet bed for Steve.

When the boys got their plushies it was adorable but also a very chaotic. Techno giving his pig one to Steve so he wouldn't miss him when he was away from home, but also bringing the polar bear one with him when he couldn't or wasn't allowed to bring Steve with him but still needed comfort. While on Phil's side of things; he was showing his crows the crow plushie joking about he'll replace them if they aren't careful however he made the mistake of showing them the tiny coin and gem plushies as well. I want you to imagine hundreds of crows descending upon this poor fool of a man in the background while the reader is walking away hoping they like their plushies.

The war that ensued the couple following days amongst the crows starts to cool down but the bickering doesn't, every waking moment Phil can feel eyes on him and one or more of the crows coming to complain about the others having had the shiny plushies for too long. He quickly caves under the pressure and commissions more of the tiny shiny treasure plushies. And by more I mean a lot more.

When he finally has enough of the things he goes around distributing them to the crows. Finally a moment of peace, but he still feels like something is staring at him occasionally. Deciding to ignore it since it's finally quiet he goes to makes himself a cup of tea and while waiting for the water to boil he fishes out the few shiny plushies he had saved for himself. The second he does he feels eyes burning into him and now that it's quiet he hears it, quiet muffled snuffles and snorts of discontent. Then he sees what ‘it’ is, it's Techno behind the window looking at the shinies in his hand with such intensity Phil fears for his life (/hj). Phil just sighs deeply before walking over to the window and opening it. For a second Techno looks like a deer in headlights before returning to intensely staring at the shinies in Phil's hand before Phil just dumps the shiny plushies into Techno's hand and closes the window. Happy piglin noises can be heard outside while Phil debates the pros (getting to have shinies himself) and cons (the embarrassment of having to commission even more of the shiny plushies than he already has) of getting new ones from the reader. And in all this the reader has no idea the amount of chaos they inadvertently caused.

And finally; Techno commissioning robes/cloaks for whole the Syndicate to wear in their meetings, because he’s dramatic like that. But since he’s a thoughtful guy, he wants them all to fit the members well and not be uncomfortable to wear so he gets everyone’s measurements. Once he has them all he goes to the reader with the order for the robes, he has all the measurements written down under just Person 1, Person 2 etc. to keep their anonymity and when asked what the robes are for he just tells the reader it’s a book club. When he gets them all and the reader asks no further questions he thinks he’s gotten away with getting some cool robes for the Syndicate with their secrets safe. Little does he know the reader actually now knows all the members in the Syndicate since they can just reference the gotten measurements with everyone’s measurements written down from previous work done by them. Whether the reader thinks it’s some weird cult they all are a part of or just an actual book club people are too embarrassed to admit they are in, is up to interpretation.

#dsmp x reader #dsmp fanfic #dream smp x reader #mcyt x reader #mcyt fanfiction #Pans Writing Prompts #C: Technoblade #C: Ranboo #C: Philza #C: FoolishG #C: Eret #C: TommyInnit #C: Michael_Beloved

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kankuroplease · 3 years

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Can you tell us more about Katsura and her relationships with Shino? :)

Well this came out longer than expected BUT it is sectioned (not proof read, so oops). Hope you enjoy 🖤

About Katsura

For starters, she’s very aware that she’ll never be this great kunoichi. She’s not from a major clan that has special techniques, her chakra is barely above average, and her size is a disadvantage.

So to compensate for what she sees as short comings; She trains, studies, and tries to keep up with her teammates/not be a burden.

Will train with her sister even past her team training exercises.

Katsura is very logical about things. There’s always a logical explanation or way of handling things.

Loves writing and will carry a notebook to write in wherever she may go.

She also enjoys dressing up just because on her off days.

Doesn’t want anyone to look at her though. It’s annoying and uncomfortable to her when people she doesn’t know pay her too much attention.

She isn’t proud of it, but she has played dumb and showed some skin to get information on missions. It’s amazing how idiotic some people are over cleavage 💀

Very envious of civilians with soft hands and has definitely invested in creams to try and help with her callouses

She has been helping at her grandparents bakery from time to time for as long as she can remember.

Its one of the reason she bakes so much. She doesn’t want to get rusty~ the other is it seems to make her friends happy.

Never had a crush before Shino and just assumed she wasn’t capable of feeling like that. Genuinely curious how people can just develop crushes on people they don’t really know.

Gets really excited when one of the beetles she raises does well/finds a mate. Like she is so proud of her beetle-companion.

Also gets very upset if it gets flung off a branch by its competitor or mate. She will pout and try to soothe said beetle-companion.

Beyond ticklish. Tries to hide it but even the slightest playful touch of her neck will have her laughing and snorting.

Touch starved, honestly. Will never admit it but she loves hugs. They make her feel warm and fuzzy.

She doesn’t remember her mother at all because she was so young when she passed away, but she still will visit her grave to ask her to watch over her father. He’s getting old and he’s still a recluse.

Absolute morning person and likely to want to crash before 8 pm if she’s not on a mission

Poisonous~ no but fr, she’s crafted her own poison to coat her sword in

Her sword is her baby. Custom made just for her by her father. No one is allowed to handle it for the previous reason.

How It Started

When she met Shino, it was simply by chance. Her dad told she was small but strong like a beetle.

And unfortunately, the beetle he compared her too got away before she could observe it and collect information on it properly.

So she went searching for her escaped beetle and ran into Shino.

Who told her he had no seen that bug but told her where can probably find one.

She was highly insulted but her father raised her not to let her emotions take control of her actions

So she let it go (sort of) and followed his advice. Which did lead her to her first pet beetle

After that, she made a point of saying hi or waving to Shino whenever she’d see him around for helping her out.

And they built a friendship over the years and all was fine with the world. They’d go bug hunting and Shino became someone she really respected and enjoyed talking to.

She could listen to him talk about insects all day because he sort of lights up and his knowledge was pretty impressive

And his voice is nice too~

Also, she really liked his dad too. He was so kind and even accepted cookies she had baked for Shino before realizing he was on a mission.

She totally loves Shinos bugs (before she realized she loved Shino)! even asked their names. Not that she would remember all of them or even recognize one from the other, she was just very curious about these special little guys.

It took the coming of war for her to realize just how much Shino actually meant to her.

And she didn’t expect to survive the war either. So she put all her feelings in an origami beetle that she gave to Shino.

It wasn’t like anyone unfolds them anyways, so it’s safe.

But by some miracle, they both survive.

Now she’s blushing heavily whenever he’s around because ‘oh no’, yes she’s always been aware his conventionally good looking but this feeling keeps growing and now his looks are a burden on her heart and mind

She was honestly pretty embarrassed about that origami beetle he still has sitting a little too close to light for her comfort.

All it would take is for him to look at it in the light to see her confession and she’s not even supposed to be alive to face this possibility.

Tried asking her father what he liked about her mother and none of that matched her (soft figure and extroverted bubbly personality) and Aori gave her ‘the talk’ while completely red faced.

And once she told her teammates, they basically told her to stop being a chicken and just tell him how she feels.

now Katsura does find that just telling him would be the most logical thing to do… but it’s easier said than done.

What if he doesn’t feel the same? Can they still be friends?

Shino pricked up on her not so subtle changes in behavior and wasn’t sure what to make of it.

She’s standing closer, stealing glances when she thinks he’s not looking, jumping a bit when he’d call her name, blushing and losing train of thought whenever their hands accidentally brush, etc.

He’s almost certain he knows what all this means, but maybe it’s just wishful thinking?

Katsura has always smiled easily for him and never seemed to forget him no matter how long it took for them to see each other again.

Maybe it was the way she always was so proud to show him her latest beetle she nurtured from larval or how she seriously always told his beetles to take care of him for her before any missions no matter how small.

Perhaps it was the fact that she always told him she thought he was amazing

Maybe it was the way they both could comfortably enjoy each other’s company without words

Or maybe the way she fussed over the children’s novel she was writing.

The way she always made sure other acknowledged him in group settings by mentioning him or asking him questions.

Her snorting laugh that she’s so embarrassed about had grown on him too. Also made it easy to find her

But at some point he’d developed a crush of his own, so it would be great if she felt the same.

It’s not until Kiba discovers the origami beetle and ask who gave him the love letter

Shino’s like… love letter?

Kiba holding it up to the light so Shino can faintly see the writing in it.

Kiba guesses it’s probably from that mean little thing that always seems to be around Shino these days. In fact, he’s pretty sure it’s her because of the faint scent still on it.

Shino looks calm on the surface but inside, Shino.exe has stopped working. Some quite a few bugs are escaping and kiba is cackling because he f**kin’ KNEW IT!!

Now they’re both acting strangely with each other trying to figure out their timing but what better timing than during one of their forest walks?

Shino waits until they’re absolutely alone (None of his bugs spotted Katsura’s nosy teammates) and Katsura is distracted by if her beetle is ready to find a mate/leave home.

She’s humming to herself that this one doesn’t seem to want to leave when Shino murmurs he can’t blame the little guy. He wouldn’t want to leave her side either.

Queue Katsura turning red and telling him not to joke like that, because she might get the wrong idea.

He tilted his head before asking her why would joke about that? He likes her, and the rest was a blur as her heart was beating too loud to hear everything he said outside of the end of his confession.

Of course she said yes too loudly and then asked him to repeat what he said because she wants to know remember his words forever 🥰

Them as a couple

Once they become official, nothing much changes honestly

They still go on bug hunts and walks in the forest, but will to hold hands while doing these things now.

Shino isn’t into too much PDA of course, but he doesn’t mind her cuddling up to him in private. In fact he welcomes it.

Katsura is the first one to say ‘I love you’ and she’s not shy about saying it.

Will leave him notes to read each day if either one of them has a particularly long mission. (they are numbered and yes she expects him to wait and read them)

He’s also been the subject of several questionable dishes because baking is her thing, not cooking. She is very sorry, Shino.

They both decided she should to stick to cookbooks for awhile after the last random dish

Garden picnics are something they both enjoy whenever their schedules allow and Katsura actually knows how to prepare foods for such an occasion

Shino will have a few more butterflies than normal join them because he knows it will make her smile.

Took them awhile to share a passionate kiss because, they’re both patient types and were waiting on the other to take the lead

But once they did and she heard his beetles buzzing— and he sighed against her lips that was it, she practically jumped on top of him and then apologized profusely later

Shino knows she’s capable, but will still get things down from higher shelves for her.

Katsura loves tracing shapes in Shino’s palms and can/will fall asleep holding his hand. His hands are always so warm and calming to her

She knitted them matching sweaters for winter because she really liked the idea. They didn’t turn out perfect but Shino wore his anyways and made her whole day!

Shino was very supportive of Katsura retiring to take a bigger role at her grandparents bakery and pursue writing. It’s something she always enjoyed and he’s ngl, the thought of them having more time together made him happy.

Katsura was also very supportive of Shino becoming a sensei! What a cute job and she could get intel of what kids may be interested

Both of them would still rather eat at home but will go with their friends. Katsura is more likely to convince Shino it’s good to socialize every once in awhile… although if he wants her to be more selfish with him, she will gladly do so~

Overall just a really sweet couple that’s over the moon about each other 🖤

#oc: katsura #ask #long post under cut

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carnationworld-writings · 3 years

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You will always be my endlesslove (Caspian x fem!reader)

MASTERLIST

Paring: Prince Caspian x fem!reader

Universe: The Chronicles of Narnia

Word Count: 1857

Warnings: mention about the possibility of death on the sea and women's rights typical for middle age (or poor try to show it.)

If I forgot about anything feel free to write to me. Your wellbeing is important to me!

Summary: The one where Caspian need to do one more thing before his next journey.

Y/N sat in the garden with a few ladies from court, mindlessly watching how they played cards. Long forgotten knitting was on her laps, but she couldn’t concentrate on it. The only things in her mind were Caspian and his future voyage on the Dawn Treader. She was worried about him. She perfectly knew that sailoring wasn’t the safest, even if he had the best men in his crew. She sighed quietly and closed her eyes, turning face to the sun. She didn’t know how long she sat like that, thinking about the young king, when she heard footsteps on the gravel path behind her. Then she heard her best friend gasping and quickly getting up from her chair. Y/N and the rest of the ladies looked at the way from where their guest came. At the sight of the king of Narnia, they also stood up and bowed deeply before him.

“Your Majesty!” The oldest duchess in their group stood up first, welcoming the king with a warm smile. After many talks with her, Y/N knew that Caspian remained her late son, which she lost in one of the Telmaries wars.

“Good morning, ladies! I see that you’re using that nice weather.” He smiled at her, and then his eyes moved over each woman there, stopping a little longer at Y/N.

“Yes, my king. It’s good for these girls to take some sun and fresh air. Maybe you could join us?”

“Indeed, it’s good for all of us, dear duchess. Actually, I was wondering if I could steal Lady Y/N from you for a moment.”

“Of course, your majesty.”

Y/N looked at Caspian’s face and found that his lips formed at this beautiful smile that made her heart beat a little faster. She nodded slightly and put her knitting in her chair. Caspian said his goodbyes to the rest of the ladies, and when Y/N reached him, they started walking down the path. She already could tell how tensed his arms were under his jacket.

“My king… Caspian, is everything alright?” She carefully watched his face, wanting to see any emotion.

“Yes, I just… Carpenters ended up repairing the Dawn Treader, and I hoped that you could go with me to see it.” He looked at Y/N and hid his hands behind his backs.

“I’ll be honoured.”

When she smiled at him, Caspian felt like he could breathe again. He held his arm out towards her, and she took it with a shy smile. They slowly went to the carriage, which took them to the seaport. All the way there, they talked about everything that happened lately in Narnia and about his upcoming journey. When they reached their destination, Caspian helped her come out from the carriage. He looked at her face when she squeezed his hand slightly and smiled fondly. She already looked at The Dawn Treader and became speechless. Her lips fell open, and her eyes widened. It was Caspian’s soft laugh that brought her to reality. She looked at him, realizing that she still held his hand tightly, which made her feel heat on her face.

“Caspian… This ship looks wonderful!” He smiled and placed a soft kiss on the back of her hand before he put it delicately on his arm.

“Wait until you see how it looks inside.”

Looking around, they came to the gangplank of the ship. Carefully, Caspian helped Y/N come to the desk, where his crew welcomed them. With a bright smile, Y/N watched how Caspian stopped to speak with every man on the ship. She knew that most of them served on The Dawn Treader from Caspian’s first cruise. She was sure that it made their relationship something more than the king and his subjects. Things they experienced together at sea connected them with a strong bond that only they could understand. After standing there for some time, Y/N felt her body shivered at the feel of the cold breeze. She hugged herself, rubbing her arms to warm up. She cursed herself that she didn’t take her shawl. At this moment, Caspian looked at her and smiled softly. He excused himself and came closer, delicately putting a hand on the small of her backs. When her eyes moved at his face and her lips curved into a tender smile, Caspian couldn’t stop looking at them. He courted her for a few months already, and he couldn’t wait to spend the rest of his life with her. The sight of her soft lips made him want to kiss her until they ran out of breath. They already shared a few kisses when they knew that nobody would see them. They were shy and insecure, but he knew that it became his favourite thing to do. He wanted to hold her in his arms for the rest of the time and lost himself in her.

“Y/N, there is something more that I wanted to show you.”

“So, lead the way, my king.”

With smiles, they walked to the king’s cabin. He opened doors before her and watched her face when she looked at paintings on The Kings and Queens of Old. She stood before the gold image of Aslan and touched it lightly. He watched how she slouched gently, and when he looked at her eyes, he discovered that they were full of tears. He rushed to her side, taking her hand in his.

“Y/N, my love, what’s wrong?” Caspian said quietly, gently rubbing the back of her hand.

“I’m… I’m just so worried about you. What if something will go wrong on your voyage? What if? What if you won’t come back to me?” She whispered, looking at Caspian. “You’re so dear to my heart, and I can’t lose you.”

“And you won’t lose me, my love. I’ll do everything in my power to come back to you. And every day, I will be begging Aslan to help me with my task and let me come back to you safe and as soon as possible. You own my heart, Y/N, and I promise you to come back.”

Caspian gently wiped tears from her cheeks and softly smiled when she threw herself in his arms. He kissed the top of her head and started caressing her back and moving to his sides. He waited for her to calm down, taking this time to inhale her sweet smell. He smiled at her when she stepped back but still stayed between his arms.

“I’m sorry… I shouldn’t have reacted like this.”

“There is nothing that you need apologies for, my love! You have all rights to react like this. Sailing is not always safe, and I’m leaving when we are courting. But I will come back.”

Y/N rose on her toes and connected their lips. To steady herself, she put her hand on his strong arm and tightened her grip slightly when he pulled her closer to him.

“Y/N… I wanted you to come here with me because I wanted to ask you something.” Caspian whispered in her lips, slowly taking one of his hands off her body and snacking it to his jacket pocket. She watched his face closely, and Caspian felt his cheeks becoming red. “In the morning, I had prepared a speech, but I can’t remember what I wanted to tell you. I know one thing for sure. I can’t imagine my life without you by my side. I want to spend the rest of this life with you, to love you and cherish you to my last breath.” Caspian felt his heart pounding in his chest, but he smiled, seeing Y/N’s eyes full of love. “I want you to become my queen, who will rule next to me. I want to be the person who will make you laugh every day. I promise to be for you in everything and to do everything to make you happy. And I promise to always come back to you from every journey. For these few months, you became my haven, where I’m longing to be. You are the one I think about before I fall asleep, and later I meet you in my dreams.” His throat tightened from emotion, watching tears running on her cheeks, but because of her bright smile, he knew that she was happy. “Y/N, would you do me the honour of becoming my wife? Will you marry me?”

“Yes! A thousand times, yes!” She said between her happy laughs. Feeling like he could breathe again, Caspian grinned and kissed her passionately. She took his face in her hands, gently caressing his cheeks. “What about my father, Caspian?”

“I already talked with him. He agreed, but only if you would say yes. And we decided that everything from your dowry will always be only yours or our kids if you will decide to give it to them.” He smiled at her, seeing her eyes went bigger. “I’m not planning to marry you for money or lands. I’m marrying you because of you and the love I feel.”

“Thank you, Cas.” She whispered, kissing his lips again and then looking in his eyes.

“My dear, don’t thank me for that. I bought a ring for you. But if you don’t like it, we can choose something different.” Caspian opened his hand and showed her gold ring with sapphire. She gasped and looked at her betrothed.

“It’s beautiful!”

Caspian gently took his hand and lifted it to his lips to put a kiss on its back. He slowly put a ring on her finger and kissed it. She laughed happily, wiping her tears with her other hand. When he looked in her eyes, she delicately put her hand on his cheek and rubbed it lovingly. She attracted him and connected their lips. He held her hips, bringing her closer to him and then lifting her from the ground, making her squeak in his lips. However, she didn’t end the kiss. She snuck her arms around his nape, feeling how her heart pounded in her chest. The only thing she could think was the warm of his body against her and how safe it made her feel. His lips were surprisingly soft against hers, and they found perfect synchrony. Caspian felt like he was holding his whole world in his arms, and his head could get dizzy because of that. He could only focus on the softness of her skin under his fingers, her subtle lavender scent and this soft whimper when he bit her lower lip gently. When they broke the kiss to take a breath, none of them could open their eyes for a few moments, drunk off the feeling of the other person.

“Cas…” she whispered, playing gently with his hair at the nape of his neck.

“Yes, my love?”

“I can’t wait to spend eternity with you.”

He just smiled, looking at her bright eyes and lowered his head to kiss her again. And in the loneliness of his cabin, they thought about the future ahead of them.

***

Author’s note:

Thank you for reading! Please, let me know what are you thinking about this one! Your comment means a world for me and motivates me to work! Also, taglist is open! If you want to be added just let me know!

I am sorry about every grammar mistake and misspellings. English is not my first language.

Klaudia 💜

***

Caspian taglist: @elennox03 @live-love-loki @effielumiere

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wandsandwheezes · 3 years

Text

Fake It | Weasley Twins | CH2

one //

Warnings | Mature themes, fake relationships, secret relationships, love, sex, drama, angst, fluff, other chapters include smut 18+

Summary // Fred Weasley has been set up to publicly date Y/N, London's best Quidditch Seeker in order to drum up some publicity. Y/N however has a different ginger man on her mind; George Weasley.

creds to @vogueweasley for the moodboard<3

The warmth on your skin as George's arm lazily draped over your side, truly was a feeling you could get used to. Shamelessly it was your fourth night in a row you'd spent in his bed, a part of you longed for you to wake up in his arms every morning. George was not a heavy sleeper, easily disrupted by anyone and anything, perhaps the only way he'd ever sleep through the night was when he'd passed out drunk. Having seen just how affectionate he gets after a few too many shots, you were glad you hadn't been at the fire whisky fuelled celebrations.

Sneaking around with George was much easier at Hogwarts, no cameras, no fame, no interruptions; just kisses and evenings together. Part of the reason you and George had such a good time together in Muggle London was that more often than not, you were just a normal couple, free to kiss and hold each other in front of everyone. He pulled you from bed early that morning to take you on a surprise trip before your training that evening.

He'd gotten you to wrap up warm and comfy in an attempt to block out the freezing British winter winds. The ten minute walk from your home to the Embankment was full of conversations about all of the gorgeous Christmas displays, you even begged him to let you put up the Christmas tree early in the house, giving in when you looked at him with your puppy dog eyes, "I'm so whipped, aren't I?" he laughed, fingers interlocking with yours as you walked. His eyes trailed across the river before an Idea popped into his head, he nodded towards the London Eye, sat proudly across the river in all of its glory. "What do you say, Princess? Fancy heading up there for a bit?"

Your eyes were beaming the minute the wheel started spinning. You'd managed to get a pod all to yourselves, a rare opportunity, but one you grasped with two hands, laughing as he picked you up and spun you round and around. "We should run." you spoke softly, hand running through his hair gently as you looked into his eyes. "For you, I would." he murmured, catching your lips for a long kiss, it wasn't quick or fiery, just a deep, long passionate kiss. He took his time with you because he had it, there wasn't any rush here, no chance of being caught or stopped. His kiss said a thousand words about the way he loved you.

Looking out over London's bustling city with your head in George's chest made you realise just how perfect a life with him was. When there were no cameras, no press, no fakery and especially no Cherry in sight, It was easy to feel every beat of his heart, as they synced together beating as one. You were tracing circles on the back of his hand taking in every curve of his knuckles and the beauty of every sporadic freckle. Only you could differentiate the touch of your lover so distinctly, you felt him in the way he curled his fingertips up when he cupped your jaw, or how his arm would wrap around your waist with enough strength that made you feel protected.

"Where would we go if we ran?" You mumbled softly, your small fingers slotting through the gaps between his own. "Remote Indonesia…" he joked, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. "I'd go anywhere with you, My Love, one day we won't have to run, I Just wish eighteen year old me had enough balls to say he loved you and then we wouldn't be in this mess." you shook your head, pulling his arms around you tighter as you snuggled into his hold, "Don't you dare, George, It's you and me forever, no matter what, right?" he hummed contently, pulling your hand up to press a gentle kiss to your knuckles, trailing kisses up your arm to your neck between every word. "Forever, and ever, and ever, and ever…"

You'd just stumbled your way into your dorm, arm still in a sling after a pretty nasty accident, a bludger to the ribcage never did a girl any good. A box of chocolates lay on your bed, as well as a note.

Words aren't enough to tell you how sorry I am, I'll make it up to you, I promise . Get well soon, Y/N <3

-G

Locking eyes with George from across the great hall as you sat with your friends and he with his, he was looking at you with pleading, guilty glances. It really wasn't George's fault that the bludger hit you, sure he hit it, but you were on rival teams and that was the danger of the game. If the fact that he was the first at your side when you struck the floor should've made it obvious, but the fact that you were struggling to breathe and you couldn't move much really over shone the moment.

You were sat in the room of requirement, in front of the roaring fire, staring directly at each other. You were only a month into the relationship and It wasn't awkward, just unfamiliar, he wasn't sure if he could touch you or hold you, let alone kiss the pain away. Instead he settled for holding your hand, thumb brushing over the back of it comfortably.

"You need to stop blaming yourself George,"

"But I hurt you, and I-"

"Shh, baby, the massive Iron ball hurt me… It’s all part of the game." You had now leant forward to crawl onto your knees, kneeling before him, you pressed your lips to his, making him forget about his bewitching thoughts, now only focused on you.

"I'm going to protect you." George stated so matter-of-factly, that it made you recoil slightly. It was tough words from a 16 year old. He caught your expression, "I'm serious. It's going to be me and you, Forever." You were blushing, he made you feel like the only girl in the world.

"No matter what?" You questioned.

"Forever, no matter what."

After your impromptu date, George made his way to the shop and you went back to his to grab your phone, and get ready for practice. You'd left it there, the time away from the pinging and buzzing from Cherry's latest update

or her next best opportunity. You were unsurprised by the 30 odd messages from your Publicist rambling on, but one stuck out like a sore thumb. Fred. 'shit' you thought, 'I've gone and missed something.' hesitantly opening the message to see just one message.

>> are you gonna head by the shop today? No worries if not, I know you're busy x

<< I’ll try and pop in before practice, if not… coffee tomorrow? :)

You contemplated how your reply sounded while you stripped from your clothes to pull on your branded activewear, a picture caught your eye, the Gryffindor quidditch team, captained by Oliver Wood in Harry’s first year. They all looked so young and eager to get out onto the field. A devilish idea crept into your mind and you found yourself rooting through George’s drawers, finding exactly what you had set out for. You pulled on the old Gryffindor quidditch sweater, observing yourself in the mirror, It was odd to see yourself in the deep maroon and orange after years of donning the silver and green. You picked up your phone, sending George a quick text.

<< Meet me down the alley by B&B… I need to show you something. I’ll be 5 x

>> I won’t ask ;) x

You wrapped your coat around your shoulders, slinging your duffel over your arm before grabbing your wand, apperating just up Knockturn Alley. you checked over your shoulder, hoping not to be caught, you passed Bourgin and Burkes, spotting the boy with fiery red hair standing down the secluded alley.

“What did you need to show me then, trouble?” he joked leaning against the wall, steam billowing from his lips from the bitter cold. You smirked, unzipping your coat to show him the knitted sweater. “Is that-” you cut him off with a nod, fingertips reaching to zip your jacket back up, but his strong hands catch your wrists, pinning you against the wall. “Take it off or I’ll rip it off.” he was half joking, smirking down at you as you rolled your eyes. He caught your lips in a hurried kiss, his hand leaving your wrist to cup the side of your face.

Even with your eyes closed you noticed the bright flash, a flash you knew all too well. You’d been caught. Thinking quickly on your toes, you put on your signature giggle, pushing George’s chest away while whispering a soft ‘play along’, as your eyes caught his, you bat your eyelashes. “Freddie, stop it will you?” he tried his hardest not to laugh, as he backed up holding his hands up in defeat. “I can’t hold my girl from her practice any longer.” the small group of paparazzi were begging for another kiss, or at least more interaction, you dragged George away from the scene, “show’s over I’m afraid folks!” the cameras continued to rapidly flash as you quickly apperated him away from the scene to his office.

“That’s gonna be the front page tomorrow,” you sighed as you slumped into his desk chair, throwing your bag to the floor, “Cheryl is going to murder me in broad daylight,” He was gently rubbing your shoulder, before he leaned down pressing a kiss to your forehead. “We’ll fix it, baby.” he reassured you, tilting your chin up to look at him. “Forever.” the word that quickly became your ‘I love you’. You stood and pulled off the jumper, as well as your jacket, handing him back what was his. “Make sure to take it home will you? We can have some fun later with it,” you smirked, picking up your bag and sending him a wink before apperating to practice.

Cherry’s deep red car was outside of the stadium, you dreaded the conversation that was about to happen, contemplating just bolting out of there. ‘Better to face her head on than piss her off’ you thought, taking a deep breath to calm yourself down before opening up the door and climbing into the passenger seat with a smile. “You should’ve said you were swinging by and I would’ve showered, I feel bad stinking up your car!” you joked, trying your best to sound surprised by her visit as you pulled your duffel onto your lap.

“Good news, You’ll be the front cover of the prophet tomorrow.” you gasped, a smile on your lips, “I am?” she laughed, tapping away on her phone, pulling up a picture, “Yeah it’s you and Fred… locking lips. Care to explain what happened to the ‘no kissing’ rule” You took the phone thrust into your face by your publicist, looking at the picture snapped just a few hours prior. You had to admit George did look pretty sexy in the position he was caught in, you looked over at her with pleading eyes. “I’d love to congratulate you, but that’s not Fred you’re kissing, is it?”

You cocked your eyebrow at her, “Who else would it be? Of course it’s Freddi- wait you don’t think that’s George do you?” you laughed, pressing your lips together, to stop the full laugh erupting. “Don’t let Fred hear you say that, he gets funny about people mistaking him for George, you know.” she looked back at you blankly, clearly unappreciative of your laughter. “Come on Cherry, what reason would I have to be kissing George?” you tried to think of a reason around the ‘no kissing rule’ “The only reason I don’t like kissing Fred at events is because I don’t want it to seem fake, I’m obviously not adverse to kissing him, I just like to do it in private, He is an attractive man after all.” Cheryl was now squinting at you, she sighed however, pulling her phone back out of your hands.

“You’re right, why would It be George?” she adds, pulling the car out of it’s parking space, “Here, I’ll drop you home, you need a shower desperately.” you laughed pulling out your phone, seeing a text from both of the twins.

>> Let me know when you’re on your way home, I’ll stick the shower on for us ;) x

>> Coffee tomorrow it is! :)

When you jump out of the car, Cherry rolls down her window, to speak to you. “I want a nice kiss like that for the product launch.” you go to protest but she cuts you off. “Make it happen.” and with that she was away in the wind.

Today was a close call, almost too close for comfort. You and George needed to be more careful, and harder yet, you had to keep that copy of the Daily Prophet out of Fred’s eyeshot.

// TO BE CONTINUED // Chapter Three >>>>>

taglist // @starlightweasley @slytherinsunrise @gcdric @theweasleysredhair @whiz-bangs78 @weasleysflowr @vogueweasley @minty-malfoy @vivianweasley @feetoffthetablee @thisismynerdyself @rip-us @witch-and-a-half @sarcasticallywitty15 @pandaxnienke @loony-loopy-lupinn @pigwidgexn@starkidpotty @mrmoonyy @mackaywhore @softlyqoos @colorfulprofessornickelangel @fandomscombine @satellitespidey @txtdreamss @aaannabbanana @kaylahmarie

#Fake It Fic #george weasley fic #ginger hair #george weasley #george weasley x reader #fred and george #fred weasley #fred weasley fic #fred weasley x reader #weasley twins #harry potter fic #harry potter #harry potter writing #harry potter smut

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luminescencefics · 3 years

Text

fade in, fade out - part six

story page // chapter moodboard // read on wattpad // banner credit

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A/N: Since this chapter is quite long, mobile viewing is probably not the best option because Tumblr can sometimes be finicky! I would recommend viewing in a browser. Happy reading, loves! x

***

The Climax

January 2013

Marcus and Nora break up during the spring of her second year.

He wanted things to move much faster than they were, and Nora was far too comfortable with their normal—the normal in which Marcus lived a floor above her and they could wrap around each other in his tiny twin bed without worrying about things outside of their protective bubble. Because this normal was easy, it was simple, it was safe—and doing anything different, switching up their normal, would make it the complete opposite.

So when he tells her that he found a small studio apartment in the West Village one April afternoon underneath a budding black tupelo tree in Central Park, and he would love more than anything for Nora to move in, she immediately declines. She wasn’t ready for that step—wasn’t ready to not live with Ebony and switch up her normal and pop their bubble.

Breaking up wasn’t in Nora’s plan, but she knew that it was bound to happen. It was an amicable split, something that didn’t shake her world or leave her feeling lost at sea without an anchor in the unforgiving rough waters. And two months later, when she’s spending her final summer at home with her mother, Nora wonders if there’s something wrong with her heart when it still feels intact and the still-beating flesh isn’t ripping apart at the seams.

But life moves on, and so does Nora.

When she arrives back on campus at the start of her third year, Nora finds that she has room in her schedule for extracurriculars due to her influx of AP credits from Townbridge. On a whim, she decides to fill in the gaps with Film Study classes, and Nora finds that her heart is thumping in a way that it never has before—in a way that makes her feel that she’s finally found purpose, finally found her passion, finally found something close to unadulterated happiness.

Her favorite film professor is an older woman named Suzanne Davies who insists she be called Sue, or more radically, Suzy. She’s built of thin bones and worn skin, mahogany eyes that have seen almost everything that Nora wishes she could, with grey curly hair that twists at the nape of her neck and covers a brain that Nora wishes she could pry apart and indulge in every memory like a film projector reel on a thin hanging sheet.

She teaches Film Theory & Criticism, and when Nora listens to her thick British accent work through Apparatus theory and Structuralist theory, she can’t help but think of London—a city that feels an entire world away, and how badly she wishes she could visit, if only for a short amount of time.

One dreary November afternoon when Nora is the last one to leave the lecture hall, Suzy stops her and asks her what she wants to do with her life. Nora is instantly brought back to a time in December three years ago, in a different state with a boy she thinks about every now and then, who asked her this very same question as the snow was falling outside and they were laying down on concrete steps, eyes facing the cracked ceiling above. She was honest then, not even hesitating when spilling the words freely from her lips, because for some odd reason, she trusted him entirely in that small moment in time.

She feels the same now, and suddenly, she’s telling her professor about the pressure she feels of choosing a stable career, of how she needs her mother to be proud of her, of how she studies Communications but craves Film, of how she’s never been happier than when she’s watching old movies and dreaming up plots of her own. She tells Suzy how she’s never left the country, of how she wishes to see places that aren’t coastal Newport or rural Connecticut or bustling New York City.

When Nora sits in her usual seat in the middle row for her next class a week later, she finds an application for Columbia’s exchange program with University College London on her desk. She skims through the pages, finding that Suzy has filled in most of the basic information, leaving the personal questions for Nora to finish. And when she looks up at her professor just as she’s beginning the lecture, Suzy feels her gaze warm her wrinkled cheek and shoots her wink, going right back to discussing human nature as a fundamental theme in A Clockwork Orange.

Nora sends in her application right after class, and receives her acceptance letter the week before Christmas break. She feels as if she’s floating through thin air, and the only thing keeping her from floating into the stratosphere is the glossy folder from UCL with the words Congratulations! and welcome and 4 January 2013 printed on thick paper. Her mother might possibly be more thrilled than Nora, and when she’s back in Newport folding thick sweaters and knitted scarves and thrifted trench coats into her suitcases on New Year’s Eve, Nora can’t help but think that if moments could be bottled, she would pick this one to cherish forever.

Time seems to pass much faster for Harry. His first year meshes into his second year without hesitation, his afternoon’s at his internship with his father fall into nights spent with his mates almost thoughtlessly—and it’s only once he’s been doing the same thing for almost an entire year when he feels himself growing tired of it all. He’s sick of this routine. Sick of drinking himself into a place where he doesn’t have any feelings, doesn’t think of all of his past mistakes, doesn’t do anything else except simply exist for a few hours. And when he falls into his bed the next morning feeling his brain throb against his skill in agony, he comes to the conclusion that he’s completely and utterly exhausted from this meaningless lifestyle.

When his third and final year comes along, he decides to stop answering his mates when they call. He doesn’t show up to their penthouse parties anymore, he doesn’t frequent the same claustrophobic clubs he knows they’ll be at. Harry keeps to himself, and when he sees a flyer after his Business Ethics lecture about intramural football tryouts, he brings his old kit to the pitch the next afternoon. He’s a bit rusty, but Harry finds that most of the lads are, and that thought alone makes him start to feel something other than emptiness.

He makes the team and meets a boy named Niall. He’s from Ireland and drinks like a fish, but he’s kind and easygoing and doesn’t care that Harry’s surname is Styles—and it’s a refreshing change from the incessant partying and shallow people he wasted away with his first two years. Niall is warm and comfortable, and reminds Harry of slipping on that warm jumper he’s had for years in the back of his closet whenever the weather gets cold, and it’s nice having a real friend for once in his life.

As October changes into November, Harry feels a change within himself, too. It’s subtle, the smallest of shifts that allows his icy heart to thaw ever so slowly, and he finds that he welcomes it with open arms.

He meets Niall’s girlfriend just as the long stretch of autumn begins. Her name is Piper and she’s practically made for Niall, in the way that the top of her head reaches just under Niall’s chin so that he can rest it there whenever they’re talking to other people, in the way that his hand practically swallows her much smaller one whenever they’re walking from pub to pub, in the way that she instinctively makes him a cup of tea whenever she brews her own, knowing exactly how he takes it. It makes Harry a little bit jealous, because for the first time in years, he finds that he yearns to wrap a body part around another warm person just to inform them that he hasn’t forgotten their presence, yearns to swallow palms with his own, yearns to have another person think of him while doing the most mundane of tasks.

Yearns to have somebody want him in a way he hasn’t ever been wanted before.

Piper is in her third year at UCL, and she met Niall at a house party during their first year hosted by a mutual friend. They fell in love quickly and seamlessly, and after three weeks Niall told her that she was the one for him, and it all sort of made sense.

She welcomes Harry into their eclectic group, filled with a few lads from footie and a few girls from Piper’s dorm, and they’re the fastest friends Harry’s ever made. They spend their fall semester at a small pub in Camden on Wednesdays that plays live music and is filled with seemingly normal people like Harry’s new mates, and busy house parties hosted by UCL students on the weekends, with the occasional club sprinkled in between.

As autumn trickles into winter, Harry finds that he’s quite sad to watch Niall leave for Ireland for the holiday break. He’s not sure how time passed so quickly, and as December fades into January, Harry’s counting down the days until his loud brown-haired mate is back in London, showing up on his doorstep to drag him to the pub around the corner for a pint.

When Nora exits Heathrow during one of the coldest days of the year, she finds that not even the weather can dull her perpetual shine. She barely slept the entire flight, her excitement of being on a plane for the first time and receiving her first official passport stamp keeping her wide awake throughout the entire seven hour journey.

During the car ride from Heathrow to her residence hall in Central London, Nora’s face is glued to the window pane, her eyes taking in every sight that flashes by. Her mouth is close enough to the glass that her humid breaths are causing the window to fog over, but she can’t even think about how rude that probably is. All she can think about is the fact that she’s in another country, in a brand new city, experiencing all of this for the very first time.

When the black car finally pulls up to a brick building, Nora clutches her two suitcases in each hand, her leather backpack strapped tightly against the wool material of her trench coat, and makes her way to the sixth floor.

Nora’s room is small but homely, a single twin bed against one wall with a wooden wardrobe on the other. A white desk sits underneath the decently-sized window straight against the back wall, and when she looks around and takes everything in, she feels herself breathe properly for the first time since stepping on English soil.

Her floor is quiet, but before Nora can begin to explore, she decides to be smart and starts unpacking, knowing that the longer she puts it off, the less inclined she’ll be to put her clothes away properly.

After about an hour, she decides to venture down the hallway into the common room where a small kitchen and lounge area reside. Nora notices a few coats thrown over the back of the couch haphazardly, and before she can build up the courage to turn down the other adjacent hallway and meet her new floormates, she decides to brew a cup of coffee to push past the jet lag attempting to invade her insides.

When she turns the kettle on and rummages through the cupboards to try and find some instant coffee, Nora discovers nothing but various tea flavors. Disgruntled, Nora plucks a package of Earl Grey and places it inside a mug she grabbed from the shelf, moving the plaid tea towel a little bit further down the countertop as she waits for the hot water to boil.

Nora leans her right hip on the counter while she waits, drumming her fingertips against the laminate material as she tries to remember if she even likes the taste of tea to begin with. She drank chamomile tea once after studying for finals so that she could sleep, and whenever she was sick with a cold, her mother would make her a cup with a dollop of honey to soothe her scratchy throat. She wonders if she’s allowed to put milk inside so the color isn’t a deep murky brown, or if sugar would help with the bitter taste.

Suddenly, Nora detects something that smells distinctly of burning. She springs upright, wondering what on earth she could have possibly done. Water can’t burn, right?

But before her fuzzy brain can start functioning properly, she looks down to her right and notices that the edges of the plaid tea towel have charred, and when she blinks, Nora realizes that the red light on the hot plate has been turned on.

“Shit!” Nora squeals, flicking the switch off that she must have accidentally turned on when she lazily rested her hip against the edge of the counter moments ago.

Just as she makes a reach for the burning tea towel, she hears a high-pitched accented voice behind her shriek, and suddenly, freckled arms are appearing in her periphery, snatching up the ruined tea towel as she yells, “Oi! No tea towels on the hot plate!”

With a flick of her wrist, the girl throws the tea towel into the sink, turning the cold water on while Nora’s cheeks burn bright. “I’m sorry! I didn’t even realize—Christ,” she splutters, tearing her eyes away from the wet fabric inside the steel basin and focusing them on the smaller girl in front of her.

“Ah, you’re the new American exchange student.” The girl says it in a way that makes Nora wonder if it’s a good or bad thing, as if her identifier explains why she nearly burned their residence hall down a mere three hours after being allowed in the country.

Before Nora can apologize or worse, make an even bigger fool of herself, the pretty girl in front of her chuckles in a way that makes Nora breathe in a deep sigh of relief. And before she can even realize what she’s doing, Nora starts to laugh along with her—loud enough until her cheeks feel bruised from smiling so brightly and her ribs hurt from the lack of air pumping through her lungs. The kettle starts to whistle, forcing them to break their eye contact.

Just as Nora reaches over to turn it off, the girl’s freckled arm beats her to the punch, knocking her hip against Nora’s with a bright smile, “Let’s keep you away from any more potential fire hazards, yeah?”

The lightness in her tone makes Nora believe that she’s being genuine, and when the girl begins to pour the hot water into the mug and shoots a kind smile over her shoulder, Nora takes a step back and feels a bit more at ease.

“I’m Nora, by the way,” Nora announces, watching the pretty girl with auburn hair dunk the tea bag exactly seven times into the water.

“I’m Piper. How do you take your tea?” she asks, looking over her shoulder again. Nora gets a bit distracted by the smattering of freckles covering the bridge of her nose and falling onto the apples of her cheeks. Her eyes are the brightest shade of green Nora’s ever seen, and when the girl tilts her head to the side in question, Nora shakes her head, realizing that she has no idea how to properly drink tea.

“Uh, I’m not sure,” she admits sheepishly. Piper gives her a soft smile, before reaching into the refrigerator and grabbing a small carton of milk.

“You’ll take it like me, then. Reckon I’ll convert you into a proper tea drinker by the time your exchange is over, Rah,” Piper calls out, pouring a dash of milk and plopping one sugar cube inside the cup, stirring it another seven times. Nora wonders if that changes the taste or if it’s just a little quirk her new floormate does.

Nora’s eyebrows furrow at the unfamiliar name that falls from Piper’s pink lips. “Rah?”

Piper hands over the mug with twinkling eyes. “Gotta give you a nickname if we’re meant to be proper mates, right?”

It’s a question that seems to not need an answer, because Piper is the type of girl that says things with an air of unbridled assurance. Piper could tell you that the glowing star in the sky wasn’t the sun, instead, it was a dripping egg yolk that warmed everything underneath, and you would believe it. So when she calls Nora by her nickname, she doesn’t even bat an eye, because if being called Rah means she has a new friend in this unfamiliar place, then Nora will accept it without hesitation.

“Let’s get you all settled in then, yeah? I’ll have my boyfriend bring us some dinner. I think you’ll like him,” Piper says, grabbing Nora’s hand and dragging her into her bedroom at the other end of the hall.

A few hours later, when a brown-haired boy with matching blue eyes and a thick Irish accent shows up with two bags of Thai takeaway in one hand and a twelve-pack of Fosters beer in the other, Nora finds that Piper was right—she likes him quite a bit. They seem to get on like a house on fire, and when he cracks open a beer for her and tells her that he thinks she has a funny accent, Nora laughs and throws his comment right back in his face. The three of them end up eating too much food and drinking too much beer, but Nora doesn’t mind the bellyache when she falls into bed later that night, thinking all of it was worth it, because she made two new friends on her first night.

The next evening, Piper swings open Nora’s door without knocking, and begins rummaging through her wardrobe and pulling out her nicest pair of blue jeans, a cute sweater she got on the clearance rack at some New York City boutique, and one of her thrifted trench coats. She tells Nora to get ready because they’re going out tonight, and before she can decline, she hears Niall yell over from the common room, “Get yer arse dressed, Rah! It’s pub night!”

Barely thirty minutes later, Nora finds herself sandwiched between Niall and Piper in the cold January air, heels stomping against the pavement as they zigzag their way through the crowded streets of Camden Town.

Niall’s phone begins to ring, and before Nora’s head can snap in his direction, the sleek black device is already pressed against his ear as he begins speaking loudly into the night air. “Curly! How’re ya, mate? What? Yes, of course we’re goin’ to the pub. It’s Wednesday! Late? What d’ya mean, late? Oh. Yeah, sure, take yer time, Pipes and I have our hands full breakin’ in Rah over here. What’s that? Rah? Pipes and I adopted her. Yer gonna love her. Right, see ya later!”

He looks over at Nora as he slides his phone into his back pocket. The question is at the tip of her tongue, but when she takes in the mischievous twinkle in his eyes and finds that Piper’s are matching, she just shakes her head softly before muttering, “Do I even want to know?”

Niall flings his arm around her shoulder and Piper’s much smaller one wraps around Nora’s waist. “Best not to know anything,” Piper whispers into her ear, giggling as they make their way around the corner to the brick-faced pub at the end of the street.

When they finally pull Nora inside, it takes her a few moments to get adjusted to the unfamiliar setting. She’s only been twenty-one for two months now, and even though she knows the legal drinking age here is eighteen, she’s still only been inside a handful of bars in her short existence.

Bars in New York City are nothing like the place Nora currently finds herself in. She’s used to proper lighting, sleek bar tops, upholstered seating, and fancy liquor bottles lining the mirrored walls. Instead, she finds herself surrounded by chipped wood, sticky paneled flooring, and string lights fastened to original crown molding. The bar itself has more beer taps than she’s ever seen another place have before, and instead of ornate tequila bottles on thick glass panes, Nora finds numerous bottles of dark liquor haphazardly placed on oak shelving. It’s all wooden stools and high-top tables and stained rims on old surfaces, and when she notices an elevated platform along the farthest wall with musical instruments placed a bit too close together to make up for the lack of room the space provides, Nora finds that she likes this place a little bit more than the ones back home.

Instead of asking Nora what she’d like to drink, Niall just bends down and speaks into her ear, “You trust me, right?” And when she nods and finds that she surprisingly does trust this friendly stranger after only twenty-four hours, he grins and smacks a kiss to the crown of her head, prancing over to the bar with a giddy smile on his face.

Piper just shakes her head with a chuckle, grabbing Nora by the hand and dragging her over to a high-top closer to the empty stage. “Come meet the gang, Rah,” she says, squeezing her palm a little tighter when she notices the nervous look washing over Nora’s features.

With her palm in Piper’s, Nora is happily introduced to a group of five people clutching pint glasses with two plates of chips in the middle of the table. She recognizes two of the girls from her residence hall, and smiles when they compliment her boots and coat. The rest are names Nora tries her hardest to file into her memory, and when she slips into a stool with Piper sliding into the one on her right, she finds herself feeling much more comfortable.

Niall appears with a black tray covered in spilled beer and shorter glasses filled with a deep brown liquid Nora can only assume to be whiskey inside. She gulps, attempting to alleviate her dry throat, mentally preparing herself because she did tell him moments ago that she trusted him. And when she slides the liquor down her throat and feels it burn her insides, she chases the warmth with cold beer and hears Niall’s loud cheer across from her.

“Way to go, Rah! Yer a natural!” Nora feels Piper squeeze her shoulder affectionately, and before Niall can slide another shot glass in her direction, Nora watches his eyes lift over the top of her head to something behind her. His blue eyes suddenly widen and his teeth rip through his skin, grinning widely as he calls out, “Curly! Just in time, mate!”

Nora hears a deep chuckle behind her, and for some strange reason, it sounds all too familiar.

She’s instantly brought back to a time three years ago in the dead of winter, the rolling green Connecticut hills covered in thick white blankets of snow, in which a boy and a girl spent ten days together without any interruptions. She heard that chuckle enough times in those ten days to permanently have it imprinted in her memory, and suddenly, Nora feels her stomach clench uncomfortably, because how, after all of this time, can Nora still remember that sound?

But then she hears it. His voice—much deeper now, but still gravelly and throaty, forming words slowly with his accent tilting at the end of specific phrases. It’s much thicker now, no doubt from his time spent in his home country, and all at once, Nora feels her face pucker with discomfort. She wonders if anybody else can notice the inner-turmoil wreaking havoc underneath her skin, but then he speaks again, and it’s close enough to cause her to momentarily forget how to breathe.

“What do we have here, then?” Nora can’t bring herself to move. She feels as if her bum is glued to the wooden seat, the soles of her boots are transfixed to the legs of the stool, and her upper body has lost all proper motor function. Nora is almost certain that she’s panicking, but then she’s brought back into focus when Niall’s cheerful voice echoes off the walls of the crowded pub surrounding her.

“This is our Rah! Came all the way from America on exchange, so don’t go and scare her off,” Niall calls out, his grin faltering a little when he notices the alarmed look covering Nora’s face.

“Came all this way and the first person she meets is you? Well, let me formally apologize for that disappointment—” Nora gulps one last time and swivels around in the old stool, finally revealing herself, causing his words to fall flat.

When their eyes finally meet, Nora’s relieved she isn’t holding the pint glass in her hand, because if she were, she’s certain that it would fall to the floor below her, breaking with a resounding crack when she finally faces Harry Styles for the first time in three years.

It feels like everything is happening in slow motion. Sea green eyes widen in shock, and Nora watches as his neck pushes his face outward, as if his body was forcing him to take in every inch of her face to re-familiarize himself with it. He’s a bit taller now, still wearing an expensive dark-colored trench coat, still choosing an inappropriately thin t-shirt underneath. He seems to have grown up in every sense of the word—with the way his chest is a bit fuller and his arms are a bit thicker and his stomach is a bit tighter. His jawline seems to be more pronounced, the bone practically slicing through his skin with the way the lines effortlessly sculpt his face that is still annoyingly perfect. She notices that his hair is pushed back into a low bun, the curls escaping the thin hair tie just kissing the nape of his neck. She can’t help but wonder what the tendrils would look like if she pulled the knotted elastic from his hair, allowing them to fall freely down his back.

“Nora Priestley?” Harry barely calls out. He feels as if he’s hallucinating.

Because the last time he saw Nora Priestley in the flesh, she was all blonde hair and skinny limbs and knobby knees. There’s no denying that this is still her, considering her blue eyes are practically tattooed underneath his eyelids whenever he tries to fall asleep at night, and nobody else can steal that shade. She’s practically a fully-blossomed woman sitting in front of him—all slender legs and tiny waist, long torso that has rigidified over time, undulating hips that truly show a level of maturity that didn’t exist three years ago back in Connecticut. Her face is still angular, her nose is still buttoned, her lips are still pouty, her cheekbones are still high on her face and tinted pink. But when he looks at her hair, he notices that the blonde is gone. In its place is a deep shade of brown, nearly black, flowing over her shoulders and down her back languidly. Her fringe is still there, all messy strands framing a face that she’s finally grown into, and Harry finds a calming sense of familiarity in that.

She’s beautiful—she’s always been this effortlessly cool type of beautiful, and Harry can’t actually believe that she’s sitting in front of him. Can’t actually believe that her lips are moving on her face, forming his two-syllable name. Can’t actually believe that he’s been staring at her hearing white noise flood through his ear canals, blocking whatever else is falling from her mouth.

“Your hair. It’s different,” are the words Harry chooses to say once he realizes her mouth is closed, mentally berating himself for being so wrapped up in this New Nora that he seemingly forgot how to hold a normal conversation.

She seems to be on the same page, with the way she slowly tears her eyes from his own, staring blankly at the wall over his shoulder when an odd sense of déjà vu clouds her vision, before nodding absently.

“Yeah,” she finally voices, bringing her forlorn gaze back to his. “I could say the same for you.”

He smiles a bit, wondering how to maneuver through these unfamiliar waters with her. But before he can even properly locate his mooring, Niall interrupts, causing Nora to swivel back in his direction so that her back is once again facing Harry.

“I’m confused—have you two met?” Niall asks, observing the two with wide eyes, a crinkle in his forehead as he tries to dissect the interaction unfolding across the table.

“Uh, yeah. We went to boarding school together,” Nora explains, filling in the gaps. She sees the pint glass in her periphery and grabs it tightly, bringing it to her lips and gulping three heavy swallows of the bitter liquid to slow down her erratic heartbeat.

“Wait—here? I thought you said you’ve never been on a plane before, Nora!” Piper calls out from Nora’s right side, her auburn hair flicking back and forth when she notices the tension radiating off of their bodies.

“No, in America,” Harry answers for Nora when he realizes her mouth is preoccupied with downing her entire pint in one go. Her cheeks are flushed and her eyes are darting in every direction that isn’t the blue of Niall’s eyes or the bright green of Piper’s, and Harry can conclude that Nora is uncomfortable.

“Well, that’s a plot twist I didn’t see comin’,” Niall says through a chuckle, moving his eyes away from Nora’s as he takes a long swig of his drink, shaking his head at the uncanniness of it all.

The whole group seems to be a bit shocked by this revelation, and before Nora can suffocate under the unnatural silence surrounding the table, Piper asks the rest of the group a question about the new band performing tonight, and just like that, all is forgotten.

Nora can feel the body behind her disappear, and when she sees black wool material flutter past her eyesight, she breathes in a sigh of relief when she notices the only chair available is the one diagonal from her, almost conveniently out of her line of vision.

She looks up when she sees a fresh pint glass being pushed in her direction, and when her eyes lock with Niall’s and she realizes that he’s given her the second beer he originally saved for himself, she smiles appreciatively before bringing the cool glass to her lips, swallowing deeply with her eyes shut tight.

If Nora’s meant to endure this entire evening, she’s going to need all of the liquid courage she can muster. Because the universe must be playing some sort of sick-twisted game with her, giving her the opportunity to travel to a new city while simultaneously thrusting the boy who almost broke her heart right in the epicenter of it all. She wonders if this is her karma for ending things with Marcus, for not agreeing to move in with him and take the next steps in their relationship.

Nora sighs, wanting so badly to laugh at her situation, but knows deep down that she can’t. Because London is supposed to be a big city—filled with nine million people and her chances of potentially running into Harry were meant to be astronomically low. The numbers should have been on her side—considering Oxford University is sixty miles away from UCL, and Oxfordshire is an hour and a half away from Central London, and out of the three hundred pubs in all of Camden, the probability of running into him at this very one in this exact moment in time is far too outstanding to even be considered a possibility.

But it is, and it’s happening all around her, and suddenly—Nora needs to leave.

She can’t be sat so close to him after all this time and act like everything’s okay. Because it’s not okay and she’s not okay and this whole fucking scenario will never be okay, and in order to be okay, Nora needs to locate the closest escape route and disappear.

Her head is swivelling and she’s not listening to any of the conversations happening around her, and as if the gods were pitying her, sensing her panic attack all the way from the heavens above, they send her a sign in the form of Niall grabbing Harry and bringing him over to the bar with the guys for another round.

Once they’ve left, Nora abandons her half-emptied glass and grabs her coat, flinging it on her body without even buttoning it properly. Piper looks over, realizing that Nora’s face is flushed and her eyes are a bit widened, and before she can get too far, she asks, “Rah, you alright?”

Shit, Nora thinks, I forgot about Piper.

“Uh, yeah. Just need a smoke,” Nora lies, teeth forming a barely-there smile to try and prove to her new friend that she’ll be okay and doesn’t need to be followed.

Piper warily falls for it, and when Nora watches her freckled face turn back towards the girls at the table, Nora sighs in relief and hurries over to the front door, flying out into the cold January air as she tries to navigate her shaking feet back towards the Underground.

She doesn’t make it very far, barely rounds the corner of the street before she hears her name being roughly called from raspberry lips she’s too terrified to face. But his legs are longer than hers and his strides are more purposeful, because just as Nora’s identified the Underground entranceway, Harry’s large palm wraps around her tensed bicep and suddenly, she’s spinning on the heels of her boots, officially caught trying to run away in the middle of a busy sidewalk surrounded by throngs of people.

Nora immediately flinches, shaking his hand off her body before she becomes familiar with the warmth that encapsulates the fabric adorning her skin. Harry gets the hint and dejectedly brings his hand back down to his side, shuffling in his brown suede shoes as he tries to form the correct words to say to her.

“You don’t have to leave,” he starts, trying his hardest to identify the wary look in her eyes. Because he’s never seen her look like this—so completely and utterly defeated, and Harry almost wishes she would lash out instead of continue to look at him the way she is doing right now.

“I do,” Nora says, moving her eyes down to the cracked pavement. She can’t bring herself to look at his face anymore.

“Piper said you were having a smoke. I didn’t think you did that.” Harry’s words cause her head to lift abruptly, and she’s not sure if it’s because his voice sounds so broken and dejected, or if it’s because he’s insinuating that he still knows things about her.

“You don’t know me anymore, Harry,” Nora spits out, leveling her blues with his greens in a standoff that she doesn’t feel ready for.

Harry frowns, rubbing his palm against the back of his neck, choosing to back down. “I know.”

It’s sad. The whole situation is terribly sad, because suddenly, Pandora’s box has been ripped open—the lid practically flung across the pavement as feelings that have been buried underneath the surface for so long are unforgivingly being unearthed right in front of their eyes.

Nora turns away, knowing there’s really nothing left to be said between the two of them. Not until she’s properly processed it all. Not until she’s dealt with her emotions the right way instead of screaming in his face and never looking back.

“Nora,” Harry tries, his voice pleading with hers. He waits until she turns around before saying, “My birthday is in a few weeks. The first. Niall’s throwing me a party and all that, and uh—” he takes a massive gulp, his entire body riddled with nerves, “I’d really like for you to come.”

“I’ll think about it,” Nora says after a moment’s pause, offering him a shaky smile in hopes that it’ll be enough for him to allow her to enter the Underground without another interruption.

“And Nora?” her eyes find his one last time before he says, “It’s really great to see you.”

The next Wednesday pub night, Nora decides to stay home. It’s not that she doesn’t want to hang out with everyone, because she does—she just knows that Harry will definitely be in attendance, and she still isn’t really sure how to feel about everything. The last thing Nora wants to do is make things awkward with this new group of friends she just met, so staying in was the easiest option.

On the Wednesday after that, Harry decides to skip out. He doesn’t want Nora to feel like she has to avoid her new friends because their relationship (or lack thereof) is stuck in limbo. Traveling to a new country, especially for the first time, is never fun to do alone—and Harry would hate himself if he made her feel that isolating herself is the best option. So he stays home, and tries not to text Niall and ask him if Nora decided to show up (even though he stalks his mates’ social media and finds that she did, in fact, go).

Niall and Piper try not to ask the invasive questions that are dancing on the tip of their tongues, because it’s so blatantly obvious that Nora and Harry were never “just” mates from school. Nora never explicitly tells her new friends about what happened, but Piper can figure it out, because she’s a girl, and girl’s know what Nora’s eyes mean when they twinkle and break at the mention of Harry’s name. Harry, on the other hand, drunkenly spilled anecdotes to Niall in the past about a girl who deserved so much better than what he could offer her, and with one look at the bruised skin underneath Harry’s vacant eyes in the days that follow their reunion, Niall understands then that the girl in question is none other than his special Rah.

The first of February comes along with a dip in temperature, and before Nora can mull over Harry’s birthday party invitation any longer, she decides to throw caution to the wind and go. She shops for a pretty dress with Piper, and when she finds a discounted Topshop number that pairs excellently with the only pair of heels she stuffed into her suitcase, she purchases it without a second thought.

The girls get ready together and Nora lets Piper curl her hair, and when the rest of their friends make cocktails in their tiny shared kitchenette, Nora feels her worries wash away with each sip of fruity liquor that slides down her throat.

When they arrive at the club Niall organizes all their mates to meet at, Nora barely has time to try and locate the birthday boy. Because suddenly, she’s meeting a handful of new people and being dragged to the dancefloor against her will, and after her second (or third?) Sex on the Beach, she’s in that perfect state of drunkenness in which she feels light and airy and nothing but happiness radiates off her sticky skin.

Harry, oppositely, is in that state of drunkenness in which his words are slurring together and his eyes are glossy. He feels airy, practically lightheaded at this point, and his teeth stretch the skin around his mouth wide as he laughs along to whatever his friends are saying.

He’s barely had time to make the rounds, because people kept approaching him left and right with birthday praises and a shot glass filled with pungent liquor for him to shoot back. Niall finally rejoins him at the U-shaped leather booth in their corner of the club, and when Harry asks him something that sounds like Piper, Niall points in the direction of his girlfriend twirling around the dancefloor with a group of her friends.

When he refocuses his blurry vision on the group, Harry instantly notices brown hair floating through the air. The curls seem to have fallen a bit as the night dragged on, and when the girl turns around to mouth the lyrics of the upbeat song to Piper, Harry grins when he recognizes the pouty lips that are painted a refreshing shade of sherbert. Her cheeks are tinged and Harry wonders if it’s from exertion or alcohol, and when she spins back around to shake her hips to the beat of the overplayed pop song, he can’t tear his eyes away. It’s only once her hands scoop the hair at the back of her neck, pushing it upwards to let the prickling skin underneath breathe for a bit, when Harry notices the new etchings of ink on her body.

Three equally-sized birds are tattooed on the back of her right shoulder, swirling on her ivory skin whenever her arms move above her head as she dances. Harry can’t seem to look away—suddenly wondering if there’s anything else about her that has changed in three years. He finds that he wants to know everything about her within the time period when they weren’t in each other’s lives, and it’s that startling realization that causes him to ignore the advances of the yellow-haired girl sitting across the table from him.

“Y’alright, Curly?” Niall asks after Harry waves the girl away, and he nods distractedly, bringing his whiskey and ginger to his mouth to gulp back heavily. Niall shakes his head and tells him that he’s going to go dance with Piper, and Harry just watches idly as his friend saunters away.

For some reason, Harry doesn’t get up. Instead, he pulls more sips from the liquor at his table, watching in curiosity as Nora mingles with his mates and dances with Niall and Piper. He thinks it’s fascinating, thinks that in a parallel universe he and Nora would be doing this every night, and instead of random girls vying for his attention, Nora would undoubtedly have all of it.

With that thought running through his head, he sloppily gets up from his seat, drunkenly hobbling over to his group of friends on the dancefloor near the bar. When he approaches them, he flings an unsteady arm around Niall’s neck for extra support, grinning widely when everyone calls him the birthday boy and pinches his cheeks in drunken adoration.

“Mm, think ‘ve had enough, mate,” Harry slurs in Niall’s direction, resting a good portion of his weight on his shorter friend who has to tighten his grip around Harry’s waist.

“I’ll call a car, have ‘em bring you home. Need me t’come with?” Niall asks, and when Harry looks at each of his mates in their small circle, he shakes his head cheekily and smiles in Nora’s direction.

“No, I want Nora to.” It’s innocent in the way that he just wants to spend time with her, because he hasn’t even had the chance to speak to her tonight, and all he can think about is how much time has passed between them and that he misses her in a way he didn’t think was possible.

Nora watches Harry whine in Niall’s ear, and even though the music is too loud for her to make out everything he’s saying, she somehow manages to hear the words want and Nora and please. Niall looks over in her direction, and when he asks her if she’ll take him home, she considers accepting for some odd reason. Because he’s drunk and needy, and she’s never seen a needy Harry Styles before, and as if the time frame has blurred right in front of her, Nora finds herself in the backseat of a fancy town car driving off into a quieter part of the city.

They sit on opposite ends of the car with the middle seat unused between them, and after a few minutes of silence, Harry decides to break it by saying, “‘M really happy you came tonight.”

Nora’s not nearly as drunk as he is, and she finds it quite adorable the way his deep voice cracks over the slurred syllables, and his lips are bright red from his teeth gnawing into them, and his cheeks are almost a deeper shade from the alcohol surging through his veins.

“It’s your birthday. It would have been mean of me not to,” Nora says softly, watching as Harry tears his eyes away from the blurred streets and onto her face.

He grins. “I don’t think y’know how t’be mean, Nora. Not sure there’s a mean bone in your body.”

Nora just smiles back gently, unsure of how exactly to respond. Thankfully, the car pulls to a stop on a quiet street just in front of a white stucco townhouse. There’s a small iron-clad gate on the sidewalk that comes about waist-high, and when Harry unlocks it and begins his wobbly trek to the navy blue front door, Nora can’t help but look around his neighborhood in slight awe.

The jostling of keys breaks her out of her reverie, and when she finds Harry struggling to place the correct key into the lock, she calmly pushes him out of the way and flicks her wrist to unlock the door, pushing it open and allowing him to step in first.

She barely gets a chance to take in the interior of his home before he’s grabbing the keys from her hand and dropping them loudly in the bowl on the hallway table, unsteadily stepping out of his shoes and leaving them haphazardly on the floor, reaching for her hand and dragging her up the stairs to the loft bedroom above.

Before Nora can even comprehend what Harry’s doing, he’s suddenly flinging his clothes across different surfaces of his room—starting with his trench coat over his desk chair, his belt on the shoe rack in his closet, his wallet on the bureau nearest to the door. It’s only once he starts fumbling out of his jeans when Nora turns around with a squeak, feeling a bit awkward watching him drunkenly scramble out of his clothes.

“What’re you doin’?” He slurs, the sound of his feet struggling to get out of the tight material ceasing abruptly.

“Giving you privacy,” Nora explains, finding herself counting the knobs on his dresser instead of hyperfocusing on the fact that Harry is undressing behind her.

She can hear him chuckle a bit, and then the sound of a body flopping onto a mattress takes over. Harry grunts in frustration, and it’s only once he’s called Nora’s name when she peeks over her shoulder timidly, finding Harry lying flat on his bed with his shirt still on, his feet firmly planted on the hardwood floor as his jeans seem to be stuck around his knees.

“Can you help me?” He doesn’t seem to be making a pass at her, because his voice is whiny and his neck is strained, and he really seems to be struggling taking off his tight skinny jeans.

Nora laughs a bit before walking over, grabbing his jeans by his knees and forcing him to straighten his legs as she pulls. Harry watches, leaning up on his elbows as he wiggles the material off of his skin, gleaming proudly when they’re off and discarded into his hamper.

With her back to him, Harry reaches for a pair of joggers and shuffles them on, swapping his wrinkled dress shirt for an old band tee that he wore the night before. When she hears him trying to untuck his duvet from underneath the throw pillows on his bed, Nora turns around and places her palm on his back in the place just between his shoulder blades, causing him to freeze.

“Go brush your teeth. I’ll do this before you fall on your face,” Nora says through a giggle, and Harry does as he’s told, watching her through the reflection of his mirror with wide eyes as she delicately places the throw pillows on the bench under his window and pulls back the duvet and sheets pristinely.

After he spits out the mint toothpaste and waddles back into his room, Nora pats the spot on his bed that she’s left untucked for him, smiling softly as she says, “C’mon birthday boy.”

Harry grins sleepily, pushing himself on the mattress and burrowing into his pillows, chuckling when Nora pulls up the sheet and duvet until it’s tucked underneath his chin. She checks his nightstand to make sure that his phone is plugged in, and after confirming that everything seems to be put into place, she tries to wish Harry goodnight before he interrupts and asks, “Will you stay?”

Nora attempts to shake her head, telling him that it isn’t a good idea, causing Harry to try an alternative approach. The whiny, annoying kind, that usually works magnificently on the likes of Niall and Piper.

“Please, Nora! ‘S my birthday. ‘S all I want, and you didn’t get me a gift!”

Nora pauses, reading Harry’s face and finding the ghost of a smile hidden underneath his lips. She admires his tactic and decides to play along, stubbornly adding, “I didn’t know what you’d like! Not quite sure I can compete with all of the nice things your friends already got you.”

Harry scoffs indignantly. “I would’ve loved it anyway. ‘Cos it’s from you.”

“Harry—”

“—Please stay,” Harry interrupts, causing Nora to frown as she’s torn. “We can watch a film! Like we used to! I know y’love films, Nora. I even ‘ave a bunch in a drawer over ‘ere, look—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Nora rushes out, placing her hands gently over the duvet covering Harry’s chest, forcing him to lie back down on his bed. “No need to get up. It just took me ages to get you tucked in!”

“You’re right, ‘m sorry. ‘S over there.” Harry aimlessly points in the direction of his television stand at the far end of the wall. Nora nods, turning on her heel and beginning to walk in that direction, bending at her knees as she opens the drawer in question.

As she scans over the movie titles, she’s surprisingly impressed at his collection. They span across multiple genres, although Nora does note that he owns a decent amount of romantic comedies for a twenty-two year old boy. She almost chooses Ferris Bueller’s Day Off to reminisce, but those memories are jaded now, and she hasn’t seen the film since she sat thigh to thigh with Harry in his twin bed all those years ago, so instead, she plucks 10 Things I Hate About You and places it into the DVD player.

When the title screen loads, she checks on Harry over her shoulder and finds that he’s grinning from his position tucked snugly in his bed.

“Did y’know this was based on Taming of the Shrew?” he asks suddenly.

Nora pauses her act of getting up from the floor, shocked at the fact that Harry is willingly giving her film trivia that she used to provide. And when she stands up after a beat, looking down at him from the end of his bed, she smirks and asks teasingly, “Have you been studying film trivia?”

Harry just shrugs, a shy smile covering his face as his cheeks bloom pink.

She turns around then and hits play, and once the opening credits begin to roll on the screen, she rounds his king-sized bed and lays beside him on the other end, making sure to lay on top of the covers in her dress to keep a safe distance between them. Harry tries his hardest not to pout at the absence.

“Does this mean you’re staying?” Harry whispers just as the opening scene flashes onto the screen.

With her eyes trained on the screen, Nora just nods quietly, trying her hardest not to look over in his direction. And around halfway through the film, just after Patrick belts “Can’t Take My Eyes Off Of You” to Kat on the staircase, Harry looks over to find Nora sound asleep on the other side of the mattress. Without waking her up, he grabs the blanket at the end of his bed and throws it over her body, watching as she welcomes the warmth as she snuggles into it.

It’s far too early when Harry wakes up. The sun has barely started to stretch its sunbeams outside of his window, and when he blinks through the dimness of his room, he finds that the first thing he sees is Nora Priestley. They’re both lying on their sides facing each other, a little bit closer than when they first dozed off. Harry can feel their bent knees brushing against the other’s underneath their respective blanket layers, and when Harry focuses on the hand that isn’t buried under his pillow, he realizes that his fingertips are ever so lightly grazing Nora’s much smaller ones. He smiles to himself, and just before falling back asleep, he hooks his pinky finger around Nora’s.

When he wakes up a few hours later, Nora is gone. He looks around his room to see if she’s in the ensuite or banging about downstairs, and finds himself frowning when all he’s met with is silence. Just as his eyes sweep over his nightstand, he finds a note near a glass of water with two paracetamol tablets on top. He scoops up the medication in one hand, and brings the note up to his eyes with the other.

Happy birthday, Harry. Here’s the best I could do on short notice. -Nora

He glances over to his alarm clock and realizes that it’s not even noon yet, and without really thinking, he reaches for his mobile and rings Niall to ask him for directions to Niall and Piper’s residence hall.

“Curly? What’re you doin’ up before noon?” Niall’s loud voice asks through the receiver.

Before Harry can bring himself to respond, he hears a giggle that sounds almost identical to Nora’s in the background, and suddenly he’s asking, “What’re you up to?”

“Hangover brunch, mate. Sunday tradition,” Niall responds easily, the sound of the late morning air ruffling through the speaker.

“Since when?” Harry asks, straining his ear to see if he can try to hear Nora again.

Niall laughs loudly, breaking his focus. “Since always! Yer dead to the world until the afternoon, so Rah always third-wheels with Piper and I—oof! I’m just messin’ around, Rah! You know we love yer company!”

Suddenly, Harry’s springing out of bed, running into the bathroom to brush his teeth and splash cold water onto his face to wake him up. He asks Niall the name of the restaurant, and just as the words leave his mouth, Harry hangs up and throws on the first clean pair of jeans and jumper he can find, shoving a beanie over his mangled hair and flying out the door.

He arrives just as tea gets brought to the table, and when he finds that the only open chair at their table of four is the one across from Nora, he grins and slides right in, watching the way her cheeks blush as her eyes burn holes through the plastic menu.

“Any particular reason why yer up and at ‘em this mornin’, Curly?” Niall asks, a knowing look on his face as his eyes dart between Harry’s and Nora’s accusingly.

“Just felt like waking up, I suppose,” Harry says in Niall’s direction, ordering a cup of tea from the waitress as she passes by. When he realizes that Piper and Niall are indulged in their own conversation, Harry leans forward over the table and asks Nora lowly, “So, what’s good here?”

Nora’s eyebrows dart up in surprise, asking, “You’ve never been here before?”

Harry shakes his head, smiling when he coaxes a pretty giggle out of Nora’s mouth. He finds that she looks cute in the morning, all sleepy eyed and puffed out cheeks. He almost wishes he caught her before she snuck out of his flat. He would have loved to see what she looked like buried in his pillows.

“I usually get a full English and give Niall my tomatoes,” Nora explains, sipping her tea generously.

“Why’s that?” Harry asks.

Nora scrunches her nose. “Not a fan of them.”

Before Harry can say anything else to her, the waitress pops over to take their order, and when their plates arrive and the first thing Nora notices Harry does is eat a bite of his grilled tomato, she pierces her fork through the two on her plate and drops them on his own instead of giving them to Niall.

If anybody at the table notices, they choose not to say anything.

After that Sunday morning, Harry finds that he can’t stay away from Nora. He remembers lurking through her Facebook page a year ago and finding that she has a thing for coffee shops, and after asking Piper for her class schedule, he waits for her outside her lecture hall one dreary Tuesday afternoon and brings her to his favorite café a few miles away from her residence hall.

It’s called the Muddy Cup and Nora’s surprised that it’s a place Harry frequents, considering it’s the complete opposite of his personality. It’s all bright colors and mismatched furniture, uniquely shaped mugs with bluesy, light jazz music playing in the background. It smells of coffee grinds and a hint of vanilla, and after their third trip there, Nora finds that this version of Harry is just like the one she remembers enjoying during their ten days together back in Townbridge—except, it’s heightened here in London. He tells her things without hesitating, he seems to have recognized how wrong his actions were, he seems to have a plan for his life. It’s a lot all at once, but Nora takes it all in stride, constantly reminding herself not to hold grudges and to try to remember that people are continuously changing and evolving, and that if Harry is trying his hardest to let her see this side of her, then she should at least give him the opportunity to allow him to do so.

But she’s not naive. She knows that she can’t just hand him her heart without precautions all because he’s trying to show her how much he’s changed. Because underneath all of her strong walls, all of the barriers she’s constructed to ensure that she doesn’t feel pain again, she knows that if anybody has the power to weave through all of her booby traps and decoys and rattle the infrastructure, it’s him.

Harry knows this, too. Knows that even though this New Nora in front of him changed her hair and grew up a little bit, she is still guarded, and he really can’t blame her for being overly cautious of him. He’s trying though—really trying, because if there’s anybody in this world that can bring out the best version of himself, it’s her.

After a few more coffee dates and a walk around his campus, Harry finally comes up with a plan. He’s not sure why he hadn’t thought of it sooner, because he’s almost positive it’s going to be the best first date Nora Priestley has ever been on. And he wants that for her—so badly, because she deserves it.

Harry schemes with Niall and Piper to make sure that Nora is free on a rare sunny late February afternoon. He shows up outside of her residence hall in his black Range Rover, watching the way she smiles bashfully at him when she notices him leaning against the passenger door of his car, posture nothing but attractive confidence with the way his jean-clad left leg is bent resting on the steel door, the way his emerald green jumper stretches across his chest due to his arms being crossed over the thin material, the way his long hair is free flowing down his shoulders as the wind ruffles the tendrils in the cool air. He weaves his sunglasses atop his head when he sees her exit her building, giving her a one-armed hug as he simultaneously opens the car door with his other hand, allowing Nora to fall into the warm leather interior.

“Where are we going?” Nora asks after they’ve merged onto the motorway. Harry looks over at her then, one hand resting on the steering wheel while the other pushes and pulls at the skin covering his lower lip nervously. He offers her a shy smile, before muttering, “A surprise,” causing Nora to blush immediately.

Once the colorful pastel townhouses flood into view, Nora isn’t sure how she didn’t realize it sooner. The streets are winding and her nose is practically glued to the window as she takes in the flashes of raspberry, lilac, peach, coral, and mint lining Notting Hill. She can’t wipe the aching grin covering her face, and when she whips her head around to look over at Harry and finds that he’s already looking at her, it’s almost instinctual when she slips her hand into his and squeezes it in gratitude.

When Harry has to park the car, he almost whines at the fact that the moment he removes his key from the ignition, Nora’s hand will leave his own.

They spend the afternoon weaving through the crowded streets. Harry leads her through Portobello Road Market and watches as Nora’s eyes flick through racks of clothing and tables filled with various antiques and collectables. She notices Harry eyeing a gold ring from a jewelry stand towards the end of the market, and when he offers to buy them a cup of coffee from a small café across the street, Nora sneakily purchases it for him as a way of saying thank you (and maybe for another reason entirely, too.)

As Nora sips through her warm styrofoam cup of hazelnut coffee, she notices a string of bookshops across the street. She laughs to herself, her memory immediately reverting to three years ago in her tiny twin bed at Townbridge when she and Harry were cuddled up underneath her mom’s handmade blanket watching Julia Roberts and Hugh Grant meet for the very first time. She wonders if Harry is thinking about the same thing, too, but she doesn’t dare ask him. Instead, she links her hand with his and drags him to the first shop she sees, pushing the door open with her hip and letting the smell of old books and worn leather fill her senses.

Harry isn’t sure if Nora is doing it intentionally, but as they scan through the spines of books resting on dusty shelves, her hand never leaves his own. It warms his insides up in a way he’s never experienced, and he feels as if he’s floating through air, and the only thing that’s keeping him grounded is her small hand squeezing his ever so lightly.

Once they’ve rounded the end of the store, Nora looks over and asks him, “Do you have any suggestions?”

Harry’s heart thumps a resounding string of three beats, and he can’t help but wonder if she felt the same whenever he asked her to pick out her favorite films for him three years ago back in her tiny dorm room. From the smile coating the lower half of her face, Harry can assume that she most likely does, and without slipping his hand from her own, he drags her to the classics section and peruses through the titles.

Nora watches as he somehow maneuvers three paperbacks into one hand while keeping her own nestled tightly in his, and when he brings her to the front of the store and easily grabs his wallet from his back pocket, she tries to wriggle her hand from his grasp to stop him from paying for her. Harry doesn’t allow this though, and instead, shushes her by squeezing her hand tighter, looking down at her with his chin resting on his shoulder as he shakes his head with a coy smile covering his face. Nora isn’t sure how to respond—mainly because she’s mesmerized by the turquoise twinkle in his eyes, or the way his large hand wrapped around her own makes her feel overwhelmingly safe, or the way she can’t seem to look anywhere else but at the profile of his structured face. The realization strikes her straight into her heart, an electrical current causing the beating flesh to vibrate almost erratically, making her skin prickle with warmth and her stomach twist and turn with giddiness, and she finds that she never wanted her hand to leave his in the first place.

Before they even realize it, the afternoon is over. Harry intentionally slows his gait so that he can do everything in his power to extend the time he has with Nora’s hand nestled in his own and the left side of her body sidled up to his. But unfortunately, not even Harry has the ability to slow down time, and sadly, they’ve approached the car in despondent silence.

He turns her around just as they’ve reached the passenger side door, Nora’s back resting on the cool steel as she lifts her head up. Harry’s eyes are focused on their tangled hands, toying with her fingertips as he tries to figure out what she’s thinking.

“I got you something,” Nora says after a beat, waiting until Harry’s eyes are on hers before she slips the hand that isn’t knotted with his inside her jacket pocket. He watches as she removes the gold ring from the paper envelope and drops it into his palm gently.

“Nora—” Harry starts, pausing as he stares at the thick gold band with dancing bears engraved in the middle. The sun makes the metal twinkle in the light, and when he shifts his eyes into Nora’s blue pools, he isn’t sure which is brighter.

“Put it on me?” he asks. Harry knows that he’s fully capable of putting it on himself, but that would require removing his other hand from her own. Also, he selfishly wants to feel Nora’s smaller digits tickling his skin, and when she obliges with a gentle smile and grabs the ring from his opened palm, Harry tries to conceal the shudder shaking his body when she obeys his request.

“You didn’t have to get me anything,” Harry whispers into the small space between them when Nora’s fingers push the gold ring past his knuckle.

She just shrugs, looking up at him timidly. “I wanted to.”

While Harry’s eyes are focused on the newest addition to his growing jewelry collection, Nora decides to be brave and reaches up onto her tiptoes with the intention of planting a kiss on his cheek as a way of saying thank you without having to properly vocalize it. But, Harry notices everything she does, and when he watches her body shift towards him in his periphery, he lifts his head up at the last moment in question, causing Nora’s plump lips to land on the corner of his mouth.

The contact only lasts a measly two seconds, but it’s enough to cause them both to freeze. Nora’s eyes widen, and before she can let her body fall into his own, she springs back and places a generous two foot gap between them.

Harry’s not even sure what to think. He’s almost positive that he’s frozen to the pavement, his thick boots stuck in sludgy cement as he tries to bring them to move forward so that Nora doesn't feel so far away. But he can’t move—the neurons in his brain aren’t connecting to the muscles in his legs, and he has no fucking idea why.

Nora stares at him, trying her hardest to force her mouth to form the words “sorry.” But when she really stops to think about it, she finds that she isn’t sorry at all. The smallest feeling of his mouth on hers was enough to cause her body to zap with excitement, and when she looks up at him underneath the curtain of her eyelashes and find that his pupils are dilated to the fullest degree, she decides to forego her apology and leans in, pressing her lips to his with reckless abandon.

Instinctively, Harry’s arms wrap around her waist to support her body as their lips re-familiarize themselves with one another. The sigh he breathes into her mouth is nothing but relief—because ever since he left her dorm room three years ago back at Townbridge, all Harry’s been thinking about is feeling her lips on his again. And now that it’s finally happening, he feels as if he can’t breathe.

Nora’s hands clutch the lapels of his woolen jacket over his chest to bring him closer to her, because even though his body is flushed with hers, it still isn’t enough. Harry brings his right hand up to cup her jaw ever so delicately, his thumb pulling her chin down so that her jaw falls slack, allowing him to slip his tongue inside to meet her own. The moan that springs from the back of her throat almost causes Harry’s mouth to still, but when her fingertips wrap around the ends of his hair dusting his shoulder, tangling until she pulls at the roots on top of his head, he can’t help but reciprocate the sound.

When Harry’s neck starts to ache from leaning down to meet her lips, he trickles his palms from her temples to the back of her head, threading his fingers through her thick dark hair until they clasp together just above her neck, allowing him to tilt her head backward and kiss her properly. Nora hums inside his mouth, wrapping her arms around the middle of his back so that she can pull him closer to her in order to feel his heartbeat against her chest through all of their warm layers, his heart thrumming against her skin as if the fleshy organ was screaming at her own “I missed you! I missed you! I missed you!”

Eventually, they break apart, sucking in deep inhales of cool February air to try and quell the lightheadedness caused from their second first kiss. Harry rests his forehead on her own, his eyes shut tight as he tries to permanently ink that memory into the pink pillows of his brain. His warm hands are cupping her jaw in order to keep her as close to him as possible, and Nora can’t help but squeeze the fleshy parts of his arms, keeping their fronts pressed together so that the warmth that emanates from his skin continues to stay wrapped around her.

“Go to dinner with me,” Harry whispers against her skin once his eyes blink open, the fuzziness dissipating when he notices the pinkness of her swollen lips and the tinge of red coating the apples of her cheeks. He missed this. He missed her.

“When?” Nora asks, her voice hoarse from the lack of oxygen ripped from her airway.

“Right now, tonight, tomorrow. Don’t want to let you go just yet.” Nora leans in, her nose resting on his warm cheek as she giggles against the smooth skin. Harry brings his hand to rub soothing circles against her back, wondering if they could stay in this position forever.

Harry can feel her smile against his cheek, and when she moves her head to press two subsequent kisses against his ripe lips, he knows that he’s fucked. Because it’s Nora fucking Priestley—it’s probably always been Nora Priestley—and she’s here wrapped up in him nodding against his skin at his outrageous request, and Harry’s never felt this complete in his entire life. It’s like flying and falling, searing warmth and bitter coldness, being too close but still not close enough—a paradoxical rush of adoration shooting to his heart with a loud cacophonous pang that sends his brain into overdrive.

They have dinner together that night, and the night after that, and if not for Harry’s evening lecture, they probably would have gone for a third consecutive date. He takes her to tiny hole-in-the-wall restaurants that serve the best food Nora’s ever tasted, and although a small part of her was expecting him to go all out and take her to outlandish posh eateries, Nora finds that Harry knows her much better than she originally thought, and he’s constantly full of surprises.

On the next Wednesday pub night, Harry and Nora show up together. Nobody says anything, but Nora can practically feel the scorching looks Niall and Piper are shooting at her from across the table warming her cheek. And after her third beer, just as the band starts to play their first song, Niall saunters over to her side and wraps a heavy arm around her shoulder, whispering excitedly into her ear, “Knew you were special, Rah.”

Harry's insides are buzzing, whirring to life with each sip of bitter beer that falls down his esophagus. The liquor seems to make Nora a bit looser, and once she’s developed a thin layer of drunkenness that causes her cheeks to flush and her guard to falter, Harry practically explodes when she brings her body to rest against his, her back leaning on his front as she allows his warmth to envelope her as they listen to the band playing on the far side of the room. He wraps his arm around her shoulder so that his right hand is splayed out against her collarbone, holding her close in a protective stance as she lets her head fall back on his shoulder comfortably.

After three songs, Nora finds that she’s had enough. Harry’s hand feels too hot pressed against her chest, his hair feels too silky tickling her exposed neck, his chin feels too heavy sitting atop the crown of her head. She wants more, finds that she suddenly needs more, and when she twirls around abruptly and finds that his green eyes are practically black, eagerly searching for her own, she doesn’t hesitate before whispering in his ear, “Can we get out of here?”

Harry’s pretty sure his pants have never felt tighter around his waist. He doesn’t even care about the unfinished pint in his hand, doesn’t even care to make the rounds and properly say goodbye to his mates, doesn’t even care when he hands Niall too much money to pay for their drinks that are absently left on the sticky high top table, doesn’t even care about the looks he receives when he slips his hand in Nora’s and drags her through the front door and into the Underground so that they can reach his flat before her confident streak runs out.

When they’re both standing in his loft bedroom, hands tangled in each other’s hair and lips pressed to warm skin and clothes strewn against hardwood flooring, Nora finds it easier to forget about all of her past hurt. Because his hands feel that good, and his mouth tastes that good, and his warm body looks that good. But when she backs away to pull off her sweater so that she’s left standing in front of him in just her bra and underwear, she suddenly hesitates to move forward.

The memory hits her like a bullet to the chest. It’s of her, standing in her Townbridge dorm room wearing a sports bra and sleep shorts, her arms wrapped around herself protectively as she tries to stifle the rib-racking cries shaking through her body as she watched Harry disappear right in front of her face, leaving her alone to try and wrap her head around what he had done to her and what it all meant. Because he was her first real sexual experience, something that Nora didn’t necessarily place on a high pedestal, but still ultimately was a big deal for her. It took a lot of trust to allow Harry to take that from her after ten days of unassuming happiness, and just as quickly as he showed her a different side of herself, he simultaneously ripped it away when he left her alone and confused barely eight hours later in the early morning light.

It’s as if the memory is being broadcasted in Harry’s bedroom, Nora’s blue eyes the screen and her bruised heart the projector, because suddenly, her lips are trembling and her hands are shaking and her eyes are staring blankly at the wall over his left shoulder—and he knows right then and there that her walls are now ten times thicker, constructed with stronger material that will no longer allow him to seep through the cracks. Not without an explanation. Not without an apology.

“Nora—” Harry starts, taking a tentative step forward. The small motion of his feet approaching hers is enough to break Nora out of her daze, her head shaking violently as she takes three more steps back, reaching for her sweater and throwing it over her head without a second thought.

“Please, I—” Harry is panicking. He doesn’t want her to disappear, but he also doesn’t want to make her feel uncomfortable. It wasn’t supposed to happen this way. He wanted to talk to her without the cloudy sexual energy suffocating them, without her dreamy silhouette obstructing his vision, without her sudden desire to escape more prominent than her desire to stay and listen to him.

“I need a minute, we shouldn’t do this, not when—”

“—Just please listen to me. I can’t let you leave, not like this. Not when you’re finally here after all this time. And I’m not saying this because you’re standing half-naked in my bedroom, it’s just—fuck. I should have said this three years ago. I should have said it when I sent you a friend request on Facebook. I should have said it that first Wednesday pub night. I just got distracted and—”

“—Harry—”

“—I’m sorry, okay? I’m truly so fucking sorry.” Harry seems to have taken the breath trapped in Nora’s throat, because suddenly she’s staring at him wide-eyed and frozen in place, whereas Harry’s chest is erratically shifting up, down as he struggles to contain his uneven breathing pattern.

“I fucked up. I was a dumb, stupid kid who hurt you—and you didn’t deserve it. Not one second of it. I thought about what I did all the time in the aftermath, it fucking ate me alive, Nora. And I’m not saying that for you to pity me, because you shouldn’t. You shouldn’t even be here giving me a second chance, because I don’t deserve it. I never deserved your kindness to begin with. You’re too good for me and I just, fuck. I’ll make it up to you for the rest of my life if I have to. I just want to be good enough for you. And I’m so sorry—”

Nora shushes him with a collision of her body into his, her arms wrapping around him tightly as she buries her head into the crook of his neck. Harry’s response is inherent; strong arms encapsulating her smaller body, wide palms spread out evenly along her upper back for support, warm cheek nestled into the velvety waves resting at the top of her head.

“It’s okay, Harry. I forgive you. You’re enough, you deserve kindness too,” Nora mutters into the skin of his neck like a mantra of self-love and acceptance. Because even though Harry nearly broke her heart and made her resent him, she never wanted him to feel hurt, too. Not when it’s self-imposed. Not when it can be dealt with in a different way.

Nora thinks the phrase “an eye for an eye” is ineffectual. Just because you hurt somebody else, does not mean the same fate should be bestowed upon you. Humans are constantly changing and evolving, and pain and acceptance are a part of the long and winding battle in figuring out who you are as a person. If Harry is finally realizing that now, all Nora can do is hug him tighter and forgive him. Because that’s what any decent person would do.

Without unlocking their tangled bodies, Nora slowly steps forward, causing Harry to shuffle backward, until they’re both lying horizontally on his king-sized bed. She turns them over so that his back is flat on the mattress, her leg hooking over his hip as she rests her head against his beating chest, rubbing soothing patterns against the warm skin until he finally calms down.

They spend that night talking for hours. Harry wants to know everything she’s done in their three-year absence, and Nora doesn’t hesitate to give him the details of her new life in New York City. She tells him about Ebony, her roommate-turned-best-friend who supports her without question, who she misses practically every waking moment she’s not with her. She tells him about Marcus, the boy she had more firsts with, who she never found herself loving completely, but still appreciated him for helping her grow up and feel new things. She tells him about the tattoo shop in Brooklyn she went to after her twentieth birthday where a girl with pink hair and purple eyes etched three identical birds on the back of her shoulder.

He doesn’t tell her about the drinking and drugs and blank-faced girls he wasted his time with for the first two years during their time apart, because he’s aware that she already knows—considering his Facebook page holds a track record of every Nadine and Scarlet he toyed around with to fill in the empty hole Nora unknowingly carved into his heart. He doesn’t tell her that hearing about Nora’s ex-boyfriend causes the green monster who has been dormant inside of him for years to suddenly wake up, his blood laced with envy as he thinks of how somebody else got to see her in a vulnerable position he stupidly took for granted.

Harry realizes that this is a bit unfair, considering Nora lived her life without thinking about how it would affect him. And if Nora is jealous of the girls he slept with two years ago, she never shows it. Because she’s much more rational than he is—the calmness to his angst, the mooring to his shipwreck, the comfort to his unease.

They talk until the inky sky turns into an aegean blue, signifying that dawn has begun to break. Nora muffles her yawn into Harry’s neck and he wraps his arm tighter around her body, bringing her against his chest as he closes his eyes, reveling in the feeling of having her close again after so much time apart.

When Harry wakes up well into the afternoon, he can’t stop thinking about Nora’s body, considering she shed her sweater sometime in the middle of the morning when they were sleeping, leaving her in just her black bra and underwear as her warm skin suctioned to his own. He hasn’t felt this close to somebody in so long—probably ever, if he really stops to think about it—and before, when he was mindlessly fucking girls to cure the loneliness aching inside of his chest, he never cared about the act of intimacy surrounding sex. But now, with Nora’s body wrapped around his own and the swells of her breasts moving up and down with each languid sleepy breath she takes, the curve of her ass bending whenever she cuddles deeper into his chest, the stretch of her legs winding whenever she coils them around his sinewy hips—Harry feels like he’s in a fucking trance.

He never pushes it, but it’s practically all he can think about in the weeks that follow. He finds that when they’re together he always chooses a new part of her body to hyper-fixate on—whether it’s the angular cut of her jaw, the long arch of her neck, the thin layer of skin covered in gold necklaces on the top of her chest, the fleshy part of her hips that connect to her thighs—Harry feels completely and utterly famished.

Nora feels it, too. Feels that if she has to stand so close to him on Wednesday pub nights and feel the warmth of his body enveloping her own without him moving any closer, she’ll burst. Feels that if she has to observe the coiled strands of his long hair weave down his neck without her hands tangled at the root, she’ll explode. Feels that if his raspberry lips mouth her two-syllable name followed by his infamous smirk without her own swallowing the last vowel, she’ll shatter.

It finally happens as springtime infiltrates the streets of London, melting any remnants of snow and bringing forth longer stretches of sunlight on the horizon. Nora spent the week studying for a major exam in her Emerging Media Studies course, causing her to miss out on Sunday brunch and Wednesday pub night. Her absence hit Harry the hardest out of everybody, and when she walks out of her lecture hall Thursday night after she handed in her exam, she can’t help but catapult into Harry’s arms when she sees him waiting for her.

They drive to his flat and he cooks her a hearty pasta dish and when he suggests watching a movie tangled in his sheets afterward, Nora finds that she has no interest in absorbing the content on his television screen. She’s made Harry wait long enough, and it feels like the month after his birthday has been a continuous long stretch of unbearable foreplay that Nora can’t wait to act on.

Before Harry has even made it back to bed after setting up the film, Nora’s already pulled his borrowed sleep shirt over her head, leaving her in the matching navy blue lingerie set Piper encouraged her to purchase at Selfridges last week.

Nora’s never seen Harry move faster in his life at the first sight of her. She can barely make out his pupils darting from the exposed skin above the waistline of her underwear to the swells of her breasts uncovered by the lacy underwire bra before he’s jumping on the bed, her entire body shaking with the mattress as he plants searing kiss after searing kiss all over her flushed skin.

He dotes on her body, mumbling praises in between each suction of his lips as he works his way from the top of her forehead to the tips of her toes. “Christ, look at you Nora,” he whispers into the skin underneath her jawline, “All for me? How’d I get so lucky?” he mumbles into the tight skin between the valley of her breasts, pausing to dart his tongue underneath the lacy fabric covering her nipples, pulling a delicious moan from the back of her throat, “You’re fucking perfect,” he purrs into the thicker skin covering her upper thighs as he noses his way teasingly around the edges of her underwear, making her wiggle in want and need.

And when she finally allows him to slowly peel each piece from her body, leaving her bare in front of him as her dark hair fans against his charcoal-colored sheets, Harry’s almost positive he’s forgotten how to breathe. He’s never wanted somebody this badly before—needed somebody this badly before, and when Nora leans up on her elbows and urges him to come closer to her with a slow drag of her fingertip, he almost bursts at the sudden rush of his heart thrashing against the walls of his chest.

All because of her.

“I’m done for,” Harry whispers against her lips before slotting them together with fervor, gripping the skin at the back of her neck tightly to keep her close to him. Nora doesn’t mind, in fact, she absolutely loves his roughness—loves it so much that she can’t help but reciprocate when she wraps her legs around his waist and flips them both over so that their positions are switched and she can be the one to run her lips and teeth down the front of his body in domineering adoration.

Where everything with Marcus was simple and easy, Harry is the complete antithesis. He is everything new and exciting, complex and invigorating, compelling and beautiful. Nora didn’t think it was possible to feel this starved and fulfilled at the same time—but when Harry’s naked body is hovering over her own, his teeth sinking into the fleshy part of her shoulder blade, one hand gripping her ankle and the other holding her hip close to him, she finally feels fireworks burst underneath her eyelids when he enters her for the first time. Her skin feels as if it were bubbling, her heart pumping blood as if it were working in overdrive, and her brain fills with fluttering images of Harry’s chiseled jaw, his matted hair, his supple mouth, his hungry eyes.

It’s everything and more—Harry is everything and more, and when they’re spent and the white noise in Nora’s ears has finally subsided to a gentle hum, she can’t believe that she waited this long to experience this. She wonders if her first time was a dud, a faulty scenario in which her partner didn’t understand how to satisfy her properly. Or maybe, just maybe, it had nothing to do with Marcus at all. That the feeling of her heart exploding and stars bursting through her vision and fireworks cracking in the air above were solely caused by the boy lying beside her, his heart seemingly entangled with hers.

Nora wonders if it's fate or if she’s magnificently cursed for the rest of her life.

As March fades into April, Nora has never felt closer to another person before. It’s incredibly new—this feeling of freefalling off of a cliff into the rocky waters below with nothing but Harry’s strong hand holding hers to remind her that this is all new for him, too, and there’s nobody else he’d rather experience this with than with her.

Harry’s never been the best at giving himself completely over to another person, considering vulnerability is a difficult construct for his mind to wrap around. And when he lies awake at night while Nora sleeps soundly beside him, her arms wrapped around his waist and her head rising and falling with the scattered breaths escaping his lungs, he wonders what’s holding him back. Wonders why it’s so easy for her to talk about family and the future and everything that falls in between—because for the first time ever, Nora is the one that’s completely sure of something in their relationship. Harry, on the other hand, is hesitant. Apprehensive. Scared.

Because it’s so much easier to hide certain aspects of his life from her. Harry has enough skeletons in his closet to fill an entire graveyard, and they all tend to orbit around his shitty relationship with his parents and his innate desire to fall apart whenever he succumbs to the inordinate amount of pressure his father places over his head.

Nora doesn’t deserve to see that. Nobody does. So Harry does what he thinks is right and hides this part of his life from her, lying straight through his teeth whenever she questions where in the world his parents are, and instead of them being in Hong Kong or Indonesia or Dubai, they’re just a forty-five minute drive away. But that’s far too close for Harry to manage, so refocusing her brain on something else is the better option.

Because while Nora was falling hard, giving Harry the directions to make it through the labyrinth to claim her heart, she figured he was doing the same. Letting her in unconditionally and trusting her with this new feeling. But, unbeknownst to Nora, he was shielding her from the life he’s always dreaded being a part of. She was just in too deep to fully realize it.

The first lie starts at the end of April. Harry doesn’t even realize he’s lying in the first place when it falls from his lips that he has to skip out on Wednesday pub night to stay on campus and prepare for a group presentation the following Monday, but once it’s out he can’t force it back into the depths of his being. So while Nora texts him that she misses him and things aren’t the same without him there, Harry’s pushing the lie deeper and deeper inside of him until he’s swallowed the lump whole and it rests heavily at the bottom of his stomach.

Because while his mates are drinking in Camden, Harry’s only eight kilometers away in Knightsbridge wearing a navy blue suit sipping gingerly at a glass of bourbon and initiating small talk with his father’s stuffy work friends. It’s some charity event his father had mentioned in the past, and although Harry’s mind is preoccupied with thoughts of Nora, he suddenly becomes alert when his father introduces him to the only other person that is relatively close to his age.

Harry remembers her from one of the events he was forced to attend during his internship at his father’s office. He doesn’t recall much from meeting her nearly a year ago, considering he was a bit of a dickhead and was more focused on plotting ways to dip out early without being caught to meet up with his mates than trying to mingle with other guests, but now—now that she’s standing in front of him wearing a pretty mauve dress with expensive strappy heels, hair perfectly in place as her almond-shaped eyes gaze into his own, Harry doesn’t hesitate to shake her hand properly.

Her name is Jacqueline Van-Doren, and although she’s the type of beautiful that people can’t help but gawk at, Harry finds that he’s subconsciously comparing her to Nora. Her eyes have more of a greyish tint to them, and while Nora’s sparkle whenever any trace of light reflects off of her irises, Jacqueline’s are more lackluster in comparison. Her cheekbones are higher than Nora’s, but they lack the subtle shade of pink that always appears whenever Nora’s in a close enough radius to Harry. And while she’s much taller, much more confident, much more put together than Nora and all her mumbling and stuttering and clumsiness—Harry finds that he would indubitably pick Nora over a girl like Jacqueline any day.

The second lie happens in the middle of May just as the temperature is rising and the trees are green and blooming. Harry had plans to take Nora on a day trip to Bath so she could tick off another destination on her travel list, but unknowingly, he double-booked himself as his father reminded him he had a familial obligation to attend that same day in the form of an elaborate wedding at The Savoy.

He tells Nora that he has to attend a networking dinner in Oxfordshire, and somehow the lies get easier and easier to tell the more he spews them. Harry’s grateful that Nora doesn’t fact-check his excuse with Niall, but then again, she has no reason to suspect anything, right?

Harry spends the entire reception sitting in the back of the room in his charcoal Louis Vuitton suit with a sick feeling settling inside of him. It grows stronger with each candied sip of whiskey that falls down his throat, and when his father approaches him with a familiar blonde-haired grey-eyed girl practically matching his ensemble, Harry tries his hardest not to laugh. Because his father obviously is not shy in trying to set the two of them up, and although Jacqueline is still undeniably gorgeous after four whiskey neats, it’s not what he wants. She’s not what he wants.

But the pressure of displeasing his father is too much to bear, so he kisses her cheek cordially and allows her to sit with him. They talk the rest of the night but Harry genuinely has no idea what the content was, and when his father tells the pair of them that they’re required to attend an intimate work dinner at the end of the week, Harry just nods and goes along with it.

As May reaches its end, Nora can barely think straight. Her time in London has been nothing but an absolute dream—a whirlwind of newfound friendships, acclimating to her second favorite city in the world, and falling in love with somebody she never thought she would find solid ground with. She’s never felt this way about anybody before—not with Connor, not with Marcus, not with anybody. Nora isn’t even sure if her heart can feel this way about someone ever again. Not after Harry.

She’s hyperaware that her time in London is coming to an end, and reluctantly, she doesn’t want to leave. Not when she’s decided that she’s in love with Harry. Not when he can give her a reason to stay.

Nora has never unexpectedly shown up at Harry’s place before, but after rewriting the conclusion to her final essay for the fourth time and it still not making any sense, she grabs her jacket and oyster card and makes her way to the Underground to head towards Hampstead Heath.

She doesn’t bother calling or texting to alert him that she’s on her way, because in her mad rush to leave her residence hall, Nora forgot to grab her phone that was charging on top of her duvet. Nora’s never been impulsive or brash before—but it’s Harry and she’s in love, and she needs to tell him.

The white townhouse and small iron-clad gate come into view before Nora’s even figured out the words to say to Harry when he opens his navy blue front door. She figures that when she sees his face she’ll finally figure out how to explain what her feelings are, but when his green eyes meet her blues in trepidation, Nora wonders if she made the wrong decision in showing up unannounced.

In the tense silence that follows, Nora pauses for a minute, taking in Harry’s crisp white button down shirt tucked into a sleek pair of slacks. He seems to have been in the process of finishing fastening them, considering Nora can still see the tops of his butterfly tattoo and the swallows underneath his collarbones almost perfectly.

“Nora? What’re you—did we have plans?” Harry’s cheeks are blushed and he’s fidgeting uncomfortably in his fancy brogues and for the first time in months, he looks like he doesn’t want to let her inside.

“No, I uh—” Nora’s confidence is crumbling, and she’s suddenly not sure if this was a good idea at all. Maybe being brash and impulsive is a thing protagonists only do in the movies. “I had to tell you something. But this obviously isn’t a good time, so…”

Before she can turn to leave with her tail tucked between her legs, something inside of Harry clicks into place. He quickly opens his door wider and lets her in, ignoring the warning bells ricocheting inside of his brain as his brain fights with his heart for control over the situation. His heart ultimately wins in the end, and once Nora takes her first few steps inside his home, Harry can feel his insides quiver with nerves.

Nora barely makes it past the foyer, standing just at the cusp of his living room when she notices the expensive blazer thrown over the back of his leather sofa, his crisp black wallet on the fireplace mantle, and the heavy cardstock with cursive script that seems to be an invitation of the utmost importance lying parallel on the surface.

Why didn’t he tell her he was going somewhere? Was he hiding things from her? Was he ashamed to bring her to his gaudy work events? Does she really look that unappealing on his arm? Why has this all of a sudden become too confusing for Nora when just minutes earlier, she was unquestionably sure that she was in love with him?

Harry’s playing with the links on his shiny wrist watch nervously, attaching it with fumbling hands around his inked skin when Nora finally decides to break the silence. “Where are you, uh, going?”

He looks up at her, a bewildered expression on his face, and suddenly, his mouth has gone bone dry. Nora grows more and more skittish with each quiet breath that passes between them, and she’s never felt more unsure about their relationship.

God, when did things get so awkward between them?

“My dad’s back in the country, and it’s just this stupid event he’s making me go to. I tried to get out if it, honest, but it didn’t work. So, uh, I didn’t think it was a big deal to mention it to you,” Harry says quietly, feeling his lungs begin to constrict in the most agonizing way.

This lie feels worse than all the others he’s told her, because for the first time, there’s a crack in his resolve. Harry knows then that he’s done something very wrong, and he immediately regrets it all when he notices the hurt expression clouding Nora’s vision.

Nora knows this, too, because his chest is moving up and down from the thundering beats of his heart inside of his chest, and his hands are shaking against the smooth material of his pants, and his eyes are blown out so wide that Nora can make out all of the different shades of green hidden inside. And when his tremulous pupils finally focus on her own, Nora can see that Harry looks completely panicked in front of her, and she isn’t quite sure what to think.

“Oh,” Nora lets out in a soft exhale. It sounds defeated and she’s not entirely sure why, because nothing has even happened between them yet.

But maybe that’s the point. Maybe that’s why she feels so low all of a sudden. Because it’s been months of almost something’s—of days spent exploring different parts of the city and nights spent exploring different parts of each other. All without a label. All without a conversation. And now, standing in the front room of Harry’s home with shaking hands and trembling lips, Nora doesn’t understand how nothing can be said.

When her blue eyes fall to the floor, Harry springs into action. He’s in full recovery mode, approaching her slowly until the tips of his brogues bump the white of her trainers. His hands find purchase on her shoulders, gently kneading the skin until she finally looks up at him.

“I’ll only be there for an hour. We can do something afterwards, yeah? Just, uh, stay,” he pauses suddenly, eyes wide when he realizes what he’s saying before swallowing deeply, squeezing her soft skin a bit harder. “Stay here while I’m gone. Please.”

“You want me to stay here?” Nora echoes, blinking once, twice, a winsome dumbfounded expression gracing her features.

Harry nods, moving his right hand from her shoulder upwards until his warm palm is cupping the underside of her jaw tenderly, his thumb offering soothing strokes against the pink skin covering her cheekbone.

“Yeah, I do.”

Nora’s doubts are finally subsided, because how can he not feel anything towards her if he’s allowing her into his space for the first time without supervision? He obviously trusts her, and he obviously needs her—and that’s all the confirmation she needs to quiet her racing head and settle her thumping heart.

Her small hands settle on Harry’s waist and he instinctively brings her closer, cupping her jaw with his other hand so that he can angle her head back gently and press his lips against her own. It’s soft and sweet and soothing, and how can he not feel the same way when he kisses her like this?

Before they can get too carried away, his doorbell buzzes and Nora giggles when she feels him groan against her lips, shaking his head softly and backing away, looking down at her with a childlike pout on his lips.

Nora can’t help but trace the protruding flesh with her thumb, causing Harry to shiver. He’s dreading this event even more now, because all he wants to do is drag Nora upstairs and lock her in his room and turn their clock off for just one night.

But the doorbell buzzes again, and he sighs, knowing he can’t do that.

“That’s the car. I’ve got to go,” Harry whispers, giving Nora one last kiss before shrugging his blazer on and grabbing his wallet, keys, and invitation in one fell swoop.

Nora nods, a bit breathless at the sight of him. Harry opens the door, and before he can fully retreat, he peeks his head over his shoulder, long hair tucked behind his ear as he gives her one last small smile.

“One hour. Don’t miss me too much.”

As if she doesn’t miss him instantly when he leaves her.

True to his word, Harry comes back an hour later with a slice of red velvet cake he nicked from the dessert table before sneaking out undetected. He finds Nora burrowed in the thick sheets of his bed wearing the same Rush band tee he wore earlier in the day, her eyes lifting from the movie on the screen to the green of his eyes.

“Hey you,” she says softly, sitting up taller on his bed so that her back is flushed with his headboard and the tops of her thighs are poking out from underneath his duvet.

“Hi,” Harry responds, toeing off his shoes and walking over to her languidly, “Got you a present.” He drops the takeout container on her lap, grinning when she squeals and dredges her pointer finger through the thick frosting.

“Mmm,” Nora sighs, licking her finger dry as she smirks mischievously at Harry, watching as he undresses mindlessly. He isn’t sure if she’s doing it intentionally or if she’s always been a secret seductress, but when she repeats the action and swirls her tongue along her sticky digit, Harry snatches the box from her lap and slides his arms around her waist, switching their positions effortlessly so that she’s on top of him as he falls easily back onto the mattress.

“Someone’s feeling cheeky,” Harry says against her lips, his nose bumping hers repeatedly as she giggles against his skin.

“Can’t help it. I missed you,” Nora explains, adjusting her knees so that her weight is evenly distributed along his lower half, her backside resting against his front as her hands twist in between the curls along the crown of his head.

“Yeah?” Harry coaxes, his fingertips sneaking underneath his shirt as he plays with the lace material covering the bottom of her underwear.

“Always.” Nora seals her response with a fiery kiss, bringing her lips to his and pressing her entire body against his searing torso. She wonders if it’ll always feel like this—white hot electrical current shooting up her veins, warming her entire body up with just one simple press of his lips to hers.

Once Harry starts nipping at the skin of her lower lip, Nora responds by grinding into his lower half, the thin material of their underwear leaving little to the imagination as they garner enough friction to cause Nora’s knickers to dampen and Harry’s briefs to tighten.

They kiss until they’ve reached their very last breath, and when their lips depart, Harry uses this time to throw his shirt off of Nora’s body, leaving her sitting against his lap in just a nude pair of lacy underwear that makes his eyes roll to the back of his head.

With his head resting back against his neck, Nora decides to attach her lips to the column of Harry’s throat, causing his entire body to shudder as a carnal moan rips through his throat and settles between them. Her fingers draw a tantalizing path down his chest and abdomen until they’ve settled along his waist, red lines marking the path Nora’s fingernails greedily traced.

Her small palm cups his growing length trapped inside the strained cotton material, rubbing and squeezing as her teeth bite into the sharp cut of his jaw. Harry hands grip the skin of her waist in anticipation, and once Nora’s decided that he’s had enough teasing, she rolls the band of his briefs down, freeing his length in the stifling air of his bedroom.

“Christ,” Harry whispers, his eyes shut tight as he breathes through the feeling of Nora’s bare hands on his newly uncovered skin. She shushes him with gentle kisses, lapping her tongue against his own once he’s finally calmed down a bit more and begun reciprocating her tenacity.

Before he can take control, Nora makes the decision for him as she slides her underwear down her legs, flinging the thin material against his floor. Harry’s eyes snap open as he takes in the sight of her naked against his lap, the moonlight flooding into his bedroom outlining the curve of her body, the shape of her breasts, the valley of her stomach, the stretch of her legs.

No matter how many times Harry’s seen her like this, he never fails to stop and appreciate her. Because he’s taken it for granted too many times in the past, and every time he sees her exposing herself to him in the most vulnerable way there is, he can’t help but feel his heart grow in his chest, hammering against his ribs as he marvels in the fact that Nora Priestley chose him.

“What?” Nora asks shakily, shrinking into herself when she realizes Harry’s been staring at her for a beat longer than necessary.

“Nothing,” Harry admits, bringing a hand up to her face and tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear. “You’re just beautiful.”

Nora responds with a smile, pressing her lips to his tightly. “I want you like this.”

“Are you sure?” Harry asks, his hands tightening against her waist as he watches her scoot up higher on his lap so that her core is lined up with his aching length.

Nora nods, her teeth sinking into the plushness of her lower lip as she wraps her arms around his neck. Before he can say another word, she begins teasing her entrance with the tip of his cock, watching the way his eyes widen almost cartoonishly and the vein in his neck starts to pulse.

“Nora, fuck, baby, wait. I need—fuck. Need a condom,” Harry stutters, holding her tightly in his grasp as she hovers over his tip.

“It’s only been me, yeah?” Nora asks, the muscles in her thighs straining as she holds herself in the position over his length.

“What? Why would you ask me that? Of course it’s only you,” Harry says quickly, a look of bewilderment gracing his features.

“Then let’s not use one. I want to feel you like this,” Nora whispers, her hands holding his face tightly so that he has no choice but to stare into the blues of her eyes.

Harry feels his stomach bottom out, constantly amazed at the girl in front of him. “Are you sure? Have you ever done this?” he asks, disquietude lacing his every word.

Nora shakes her head. “Have you?”

“No,” he answers, much to Nora’s surprise. “I haven’t.”

“Well, Harry Styles,” she whispers, rubbing her palms over Harry’s hands that are gripping her waist, signalling that she wants him to loosen his hold, “There’s a first time for everything.”

Harry’s teeth widen at her quip, remembering the way she uttered those same exact words to him three years ago when he was experiencing another first with her. Before he can say anything back, Nora gives him one last kiss before sinking down on his length, causing his brain to forget every single thought rushing through his head other than the fact that he’s inside of her with no barrier between them, and it’s probably the closest he’s ever (and will ever) feel with another person.

They both seem to be in the same headspace, with the way Nora freezes on top of him, her throat pinching when she realizes she can feel every ridge and curve of his length from this position, and it’s only once he asks her his standard question of, “Are you okay?” when Nora starts to lift herself on her knees, before sinking back over him once more.

“Oh my god,” Harry exclaims, wrapping one arm around her lower back and the other gripping harshly at the back of her neck, holding her as tightly and as closely as possible so that he can feel every shudder of her body and every thump of her heart against his own.

Nora angles his head back so that she can crash her lips to his, swallowing his moans as she swivels her hips against his own, feeling his tip bump against the spongy spot inside of her walls that causes her toes to curl. When he expertly hits it for a third continuous time, Nora’s neck falls back as she cries out into the stuffy air.

Harry noses at the clammy skin of her neck before pressing his lips to the spot near her jaw, licking and sucking until she’s whimpering above him. “Feel so fuckin’ good,” Harry whispers against her skin, sinking his teeth deeper into her flesh when he feels her clench around him.

“I’m close,” Nora says through an exasperated breath, weaving her fingers through his long hair until she’s wrapped the strands around her wrist in a makeshift ponytail, pulling just enough to cause Harry to groan against her.

“Fuck, baby. Me too. Do that again,” he instructs, feeling himself lose control when Nora obeys his request.

Nora’s never been on top for this long before, and while her thighs are burning and her lungs are losing air the closer and closer she gets to her release, she’s never had sex feel this good before. The knot inside of her stomach is tightening with every thrust Harry meets her with, and when his right hand sneaks down between them and rubs at her swollen mound, it only takes three rotations until the knot is uncoiled and Nora’s careening towards her end.

She stills on top of him, trembling with the aftershocks as she comes down from the most intense orgasm she’s had yet. Her body doesn’t even feel like her own, with the way she’s vibrating all over and her skin is dampened and her hair is knotted. It’s only once Harry’s pushed her backward, hovering over her as she’s horizontal on his sheets, when the fuzziness finally dissipates from her vision. She’s thankful that she can finally see clearly, because when her blue eyes meet his, she watches as he slips out of her, pumping his length until white ribbons coat the skin underneath her belly button.

They’re both staring at each other with heaving chests and dotted irises, coming down slowly as they realize what had just transpired between them. When Harry finally catches his breath, he whispers, “Shit, I’m sorry I probably should have asked—”

“Shh,” Nora coos, always the one to calm his racing heart and wild thoughts. “It’s okay. That was amazing. You’re amazing. C’mere, please.”

He smiles before crashing his lips to hers, kissing her soft and slow, a thousand words spilling through their lips without their voices ever speaking them. They break away softly so that Harry can grab his discarded shirt from the floor to clean Nora’s stomach, his arm reaching for the article of clothing without getting up so that he can keep her underneath him for as long as humanly possible.

As he dotes on her ever so delicately, Nora’s convinced that he feels the same way. She argues over how to tell him in her head as he wipes at her stomach and in between her thighs, before throwing the shirt into his hamper across the room. She debates the wordage as he wraps his arms around her gently, heaving them up the bed until they’re tangled together underneath his sheets. And just when she’s about to say it, he mumbles against the skin of her neck in his throaty voice, “I wish time could stop and we could stay like this forever. Just you and me.”

Nora freezes. Because suddenly, her heart pangs with the startling realization that she’s leaving London in four days. Moments like these with Harry are dwindling away one by one, and she really needs him to give her a reason to stay.

She needs to hear him say it.

And just as she’s built up the courage to whisper her declaration out into the air, Harry’s soft snores whistle against her neck. So she pushes it down, and waits for another day.

Nora wakes up in the middle of the morning with a nervous knot lodged inside her throat. She’s not even sure what spurred this on—considering she fell asleep tucked underneath Harry’s arm feeling safe and warm, her head lulling against his chest as his sleepy breaths ruffled the brown strands of hair falling against her cheek. But now, at six forty-three in the morning, Nora feels completely unsettled.

Her skin feels hot but she’s shivering for some strange reason, and when she’s reminded of the weight of Harry’s arm wrapped around her waist, she suddenly feels weak under the heaviness of it. She doesn’t feel comfortable, and all at once she feels the urge to get out from under the stifling duvet and get some fresh air.

She sneaks away from Harry’s body, tip-toeing towards his bedroom door with nothing but her cardigan on from the night before. Just as she’s closing the door, Nora makes sure to peek at him one last time, smiling to herself when she watches him flop onto his stomach and clutch the pillow she was just using tighter into his grasp. Nora wonders if he sleeps like this when she’s not with him.

She wonders if he’ll sleep like this when she leaves in three days.

Sighing, Nora makes her way to the sliding door connected to his kitchen, plopping herself down on the brick steps of the tiny porch overlooking his back garden. With her thighs pressed to her chest and her chin resting on the oversized knitted material of her buttoned cardigan over her knees, she despondently watches the blues and oranges and yellows of the early morning sun paint a picture of this piece of London she’s grown to love almost as much as the sleeping boy upstairs.

Nora’s not sure how long she sits out in the cool June air contemplating what the uneasy feeling was that forced her out of bed, but it’s long enough for her to notice the sun rising with the rest of Harry’s neighborhood. Her stomach begins to grumble then, and the thought of making coffee and toast urges her legs to carry her back inside the flat and into the small kitchen.

Just as she’s distractedly buttering her toast, Nora feels two strong arms lock around her waist from behind. She jumps at the feeling of it, even though there’s no other person it could possibly be besides Harry. Nora’s not sure if it’s just a residual effect from this morning, but still, she leans into him when her pulse decides to go back to normal, and she can feel Harry’s nose bumping against the side of her neck.

“You’re up early,” Harry mutters in that raspy morning voice of his that never fails to make Nora’s thighs clench together. There’s just something about him in the mornings.

“Couldn’t sleep,” Nora explains, her teeth ripping a small piece from the corner of her toast before bringing it over her left shoulder for Harry to try.

He hums in appreciation. “Don’t like when you’re not with me when I wake up,” he admits, tightening his arms around her as he swallows so that her backside is fully flushed with his.

“I know,” Nora whispers, the knot suddenly reappearing in her throat without warning. The half-eaten toast in her hand is no longer appetizing to her, and when she places it on a paper towel with trembling fingers, Nora comes to the conclusion that it’s now or never. She needs to tell him—because holding it hostage deep down inside of her is causing her to feel physically ill, and she’d rather face the consequences than always wonder what could be.

Harry notices her switch in demeanor almost instantly, and before Nora can even gather her bearings, he’s spinning her around, one opened palm cupping her jaw with his thumb rubbing her cheekbone delicately while the other tucks a stray piece of hair behind her ear as he observes her closely.

“Everything alright?” he asks, nervously watching the way her eyes seem to focus on everything but his own, her hands seem to shake erratically against her sides, her lips seem even darker due to the incessant nibbling she’s done to them throughout the morning, and Harry suddenly wonders if she’s finally caught up to all of his lies.

Nora takes one last breath before bringing her eyes to his own, “I think I’m in love with you.”

Now Harry’s the one that’s panicking.

As if his brain is no longer controlling his body, his hands suddenly disappear from Nora’s face. He takes a tentative step back, leaving a cold space where his warm body was just flushed against her own. Nora watches as his skin turns an uncomfortable shade of pale, and as if they had completely swapped roles, Harry’s now the one who can’t seem to hold her gaze.

“Wait—what?” Harry unnecessarily asks. He mainly utters it as a placeholder, considering he’s let an awkward wave of silence wash over them both with his inability to say anything of importance.

Nora breathes through her nose, concerned. “I said, I think I’m in lo—”

“Why?”

Nora wonders if he’s joking.

“What do you mean, why?” Harry can feel her slowly losing her patience, her arms wrapping around herself slowly, creating a layer of armor that she’s used in the past to protect herself from his callous words.

“I mean—are you sure?”

“Are you serious?”

Sure, Harry knows that he cares for Nora with everything in his being. And sure, a part of him understands that when his heart speeds up and his chest tightens and his cheeks bloom pink whenever he’s around her, it’s all due to his feelings for her.

But even though that all stands true—Harry can’t help but be wary. Because how are you supposed to know how to love somebody when you’ve never properly been loved yourself?

His best times with Nora are always a dream-like trance Harry finds himself reliving over and over again. They’re always short glimpses of time, weeks or months with an expiration date looming over their heads because Harry can only allot himself momentary feelings of bliss and vulnerability before he realizes that his heart has the capacity to break in half if he continues on any further.

While Harry’s heart and mind battle with one another, Nora decides that she’s had enough. There’s only so many minutes she can stand in front of him watching as he silently stares at the linoleum flooring of his kitchen instead of explaining his reasoning to her. It’s only once she feels the pressure of tears welling at her waterline when she ends up slinking around him, gathering the rest of her clothes and belongings in record speed so that she can leave his home before the first tear falls.

Harry’s frozen in place. He’s still staring at the spot Nora once filled, hearing the sounds of her slipping her shoes on by the door and twisting his door knob, but none of it is actually registering in his clogged mind. He’s not sure why—he’s completely and utterly recalibrating the entire inner-workings of his head, body, and heart.

It’s only once he’s heard the navy blue door slam shut when he snaps out of his catatonic state, realizing then and there that even though he hasn’t figured out how to explain his warped outlook on love to her, he still owes it to her to acknowledge her declaration.

But he’s too late—he’s always too late when it comes to Nora Priestley. Because while he’s approached the iron-clad gate wearing just his black briefs, Nora’s already rounded the corner of his street, leaving a flurry of dark brown hair and tears staining the pavement in her path.

Harry knows that his immediate reaction should have been to chase after her, but instead, he decides to grab the first bottle of liquor he could grasp from his bar cart, slinking down onto his couch and bringing it to his lips without an ounce of food in his stomach.

This is where Niall finds him hours later, a nearly-emptied bottle of whiskey at his feet while Harry stares at the black screen of his television with blank eyes, still wearing his briefs from this morning. He’s replayed the conversation so many times in his brain that he can recite Nora’s staggered breathing patterns by heart, and Harry knows that Niall is privy to this because instead of yelling at him, he sneaks off into his bedroom and throws a clean set of clothes at his bare body.

“Up you get, Curly. Time to dilute all that whiskey with some greasy food.”

In hindsight, Niall probably shouldn’t have brought Harry to the pub down the road from his flat. But he couldn’t carry his deadweight any further, and he figured the only place that would be okay with serving somebody who was already drunk was the ancient barman that knows the two by name at this point.

“Where’s that pretty girlfriend you’re attached to?” Said barman asks the moment Harry and Niall fall into the creaky barstools. Before Niall can try and alleviate the situation, Harry’s already ordered a pint of Carlsberg and a shot of Jameson, ignoring Niall’s pleas of trying to urge a burger and chips down his liquor-ladened throat.

He’s rang Nora at least six times now, currently going for a seventh after Niall returned his stolen mobile when Harry refused to put something in his whiskey-sloshed stomach. He obliged, only because he really wanted to get a hold of her and apologize for being an absolute twat. But she’s ignoring him, and he knows deep down that she has every right to, because she trusted him with her feelings and all he did was shut her down in the worst way possible.

Harry’s not sure how Niall agreed to it, but after they’ve closed out and Harry’s capable of standing on his own two feet, they’ve somehow ended up outside of Nora and Piper’s residence hall. Harry knows that Piper has to let Niall in, so in his drunken convoluted mind, he comes up with the plan to sneak past them both and head up the stairs to beg for Nora’s forgiveness.

What he didn’t account for was Piper’s protectiveness over her crying friend upstairs.

“Harry, I can’t let you do that,” Piper says, closing the door a bit so that only her face is poking out from the glass paneling.

“Piper, please. I’ve got—’ve gotta talk to her. ‘S important.” He tries entering the building again but somehow Piper’s much smaller body blocks the entrance, her arms holding the door frame in order to keep Harry out. Niall sighs from behind her, conflicted. It wasn’t supposed to happen this way.

“Harry, you’re pissed. I can’t—”

“No! Piper, please. I need t’go upstairs. I’ve rang ‘er and texted ‘er and I know—I know her, Piper. Fuck, it’s—” he pauses, breathing in deeply and trying his hardest to straighten out the jumbled thoughts causing his entire body to shake. “It’s Nora. Please.”

Before Piper can close the door on her friend one last time, she feels Niall’s hand on the middle of her back, and she calms almost instantly.

“Let ‘im try, Pipes.”

With a final sigh, she opens the door and Harry sprints up the stairs, nearly tripping over himself as he tries to get to Nora’s door in one piece. He knows he’s drunk, knows he’s probably a mess, knows that she has every right to send him away—but he needs to talk to her or he’ll fucking explode.

He knocks about eight times on the wooden door before Nora appears behind it, eyes puffy and skin pale. Her hair is a knotted mess and her fringe is frizzy and Harry feels his chest crack in half when he realizes that he’s made her cry again.

“Harry—”

“You lov—” he hiccups loudly, causing his words to cut off the moment his body shakes abruptly. He pauses, tries to remember what he was going to say, before starting again, only to fail to pronounce the godforsaken word appropriately. “You lo’ me?”

He knows his mouth can barely utter the word, and his voice comes out a bit more squeaky than he would like, but he can’t help it. That word has always felt foreign coming out of his mouth, and he’s never understood the magnitude of its meaning. Not dead sober, and especially not after drinking the entire pub’s collection of whiskey.

Nora doesn’t say anything, but she does look into his glassy eyes and realizes that it’s from alcohol and not sadness. His hair is somehow knottier than hers and his part is amok, and she knows it’s because he ran his fingers through the tendrils one too many times. His cheeks are flushed, and before she can respond, his mouth is already opening.

“‘Cos I panicked. And ‘m sorry, but it’s just—nobody’s said that t’me before and properly meant it. Like my parents. They don’t lo—. Yeah. They don't. And me, I don’t even think I feel that way about m’self, either. ‘S just—it scares me, and I don’t know how to lo—”

“—No,” Nora says softly, interrupting Harry’s drunken monologue with a sad shake of her head.

Harry blinks once, twice, his blurry eyes trying to focus on her frame as the tears begin to bubble along her waterline. “No?” He’s confused, feels as if his life is completely off-kilter with the short utterance of a simple, two-lettered word.

“I don’t love you like this.”

Harry wonders if Nora can hear his heart begin to rip inside of his chest. “Nora—”

“You can barely even say it! Even when you’re piss drunk, you can hardly say the word love, let alone stick around long enough to hear somebody say it to you!” Her voice echoes through the small hallway of the sixth floor, and Harry stares back at her, flinching with each raise of her voice. “I can’t do this, Harry. I’d rather have you not say it sober than try and spit it out when you’re drunk. I just—I deserve better.”

“Nora please, I—you don’t understand—”

“—No I think I do. Quite clearly, actually.” Before Harry can try to force himself through the door one last time, Nora’s already begun to close it on him. “I think it’s best you go.”

“Nora! Please!” Harry calls out against the heavy wood, but it’s no use. She’s already flicked the lock, already sunk down to the floor with her back resting on the other side of the door, already begun muffling her sobs with trembling hands. And every time Harry bangs on the door with clenched fists and Nora can feel the wood shake, she just clenches her teeth on her bottom lip harder, praying with everything in her that Harry can’t hear her cry.

Harry’s not sure how long he’s stood there pounding on Nora’s door, repeating the word please enough times that it’s somehow lost its meaning. It’s only once he feels Niall’s hand on his back, ushering him out of the hallway and down the stairs, sticking him into the back of a cab when Harry feels the weight of his mistake rest heavy on his shoulders.

The only reason Harry gets any semblance of sleep that night is because he forces himself to swallow back five generous sips of whiskey before collapsing onto his mattress.

When Harry wakes up the next morning, his head isn’t the thing that hurts the most. Somehow, it’s his heart—and even though he’s suffering from the worst hangover he’s had in a very long time, it pales in comparison to the ache resonating through the inside of his chest.

But he can’t feel sorry for himself anymore. Because the longer he sits wallowing in his own self-induced misery, the more Nora drifts away from him. Feeling sorry for himself isn’t going to fix this. He needs to own up to his mistakes, find Nora, and beg for her forgiveness—because even though he doesn’t deserve her, he can’t make her feel horrible anymore.

Just as he’s rummaging through his wardrobe trying to find the cleanest shirt he owns, he hears his mobile ring for the third time that morning. When he looks over at the screen he realizes that it’s his father again, and although they aren’t very close, seeing him try to reach him a handful of times is enough to be worrisome. And just as he’s about to slip his shoes on, his father rings again. Harry begrudgingly answers, wondering what the hell is going on.

“Good to see you know how to answer your mobile,” his father says instead of a normal greeting, his voice filled with sarcasm. Harry almost hangs up the phone on him, his head filled with much more important things than dealing with another ribbing before noon.

“What’s going on? Did someone die?” Harry asks, flying down the staircase in order to locate his trainers that he remembered throwing across the floor in his drunken stupor last night.

“Very funny,” his father retorts, the sound of an unamused chuckle floating through the receiver. “Surprised you haven’t seen it yet.”

“Seen what?” Harry asks, tying the final lace as he begins the search to locate his wallet and keys.

“Page Six. Lovely spread of you and Jacqueline leaving the work event from two evenings ago. That’ll definitely make for some good press surrounding our merger with the Van-Doren’s. Well done, son.”

Harry didn’t think it was possible to feel worse, but somehow, after hearing his father congratulate him for being photographed with the girl he’s been trying painfully hard to set him up with, Harry feels as if everything around him is falling apart.

He doesn’t even respond to his father. Instead, he hangs up the call, typing his name in the Google image search bar. Sure enough, a picture of him and Jacqueline standing close enough to each other for it to be a story is covering his screen. Harry’s never felt more enraged, because he suddenly realizes that if his father has seen it, then Nora definitely has as well.

This can’t be happening to him.

She leaves tomorrow. He can’t let her go like this, not when he wants her to stay. Not when the words are practically at the tip of his tongue, ready to be shouted out into the sky. He’s ready to tell her.

He needs to tell her.

But before he can walk down his front steps and through the iron-clad gate, Niall is standing there blocking his path, a sullen look covering his face.

“Mate, she’s gone.”

*** A/N: I’m sorry times infinity. I know it must seem like I’m torturing you, but I promise I’m not! Everything will make sense in time, even though it’s a bit painful to read. My inbox is open for all complaints/theories/ill-wishes.

Sadly, the time has come that I no longer have completed chapters already written. I've tried to keep up, but real life got in the way. I have like barely half of the next part written, so I’m not entirely positive if it will be posted next Friday. I want to give you guys the best I can offer, and if it feels rushed I know it’ll be quite disappointing! I’m aiming to have it up by Friday, but if it isn't, I will surely keep you posted. Thanks again for sticking with me and this story, please be kind to each other and I’ll see you (hopefully) in one week!

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#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry fic #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles x ofc #1dff #1dffupdates #updates #fic: fade

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kur0m1bab3 · 3 years

Text

A Bittersweet Miracle

BokutoxBlackFem!reader

3rd person POV

Cw:Angst fluff, slightly mature, mentions of pregnancy, college!Au

Unedited

"Well what does it say?" Akaashi asked curiously craning his neck a bit to try to glance at the plastic stick set in y/n's hand.

Y/n looked away biting her lip as she blindly handed him the pregnancy test.

"Two lines means positive right?" The older male asked as y/n stayed silent nodding her head as she kept her gaze fixated on the brown wooden floors of her kitchen.

A soft smile graced Akaashis face as he walked over to y/n leaning down a bit.he poked her cheek lightly as she puffed her cheeks out, desperately trying To keep her gaze on the ground only for her to crack a small smile at Akaashi's constant poking.

"There she is" Akaashi smiled pulling y/n into a warm embrace. Y/n sighed into the hug as Akaashi pulled away.

"I'm gonna be a god father" Akaashi said happily as y/n laughed.

"Mhmn you are" she smiled.

Akaashi pulled away from y/n as he looked at her for a while as he lifted an eyebrow.

"You don't seem too happy?" Akaashi said as y/n shook her head.

"I am...m'not sure how I'm really supposed to react though..I mean I cried when I found out I was so happy.......but my kid is going to grow up fatherless so I'm kinda ya know...out of it" y/n spoke truthfully as Akaashi nodded.

"You going to tell him?" Akaashi asked as he began to grab pot and pans from the cabinets, probably about to make a celebratory meal for the mother to be and the others planning to come over.

"Don't know. Part of me wants to the other part of me doesn't" y/n said sitting on the island stool as Akaashi hummed looking at her.

"Y/n you guys were together for more than a year and a half...not to mention you guys lived together for most of your college career.....He deserves to know" Akaashi spoke out as y/n bit her lip looking down.

"I know...but,we broke up for a reason" y/n said as Akaashi clicked his tongue looking at the younger girl.

"You mean you broke up with him" Akaashi said putting an emphasis on you as y/n waved Akaashi off.

"It was mutual" y/n said rubbing her stomach softly smiling. Akaashi put down the wooden spoon he had been holding as he walked over to the island y/n was sitting at.

He leaned on the island as he looked at y/n intently.

"Bokuto never wanted to break up it wasn't mutual" Akaashi said sternly as y/n bit her lip looking away.

Kotaro Bokuto. The love of y/n's life that just so happened to be her ex. The pair had know each other for years, their history together going back all the way to middle school. They had always been attracted to each other, no doubt about it.

The cute smiles they gave each other during gym, or the extra chocolates teddy bears they'd give one another on Valentine's Day, the way y/n would wear his jersey to games, it was honestly all too obvious.

Once their 3rd year hit, their attraction to each other grew almost unbearable leading to the faithful Halloween night the two hooked up in the closet of their friends kuroos house.

Wasn't the ideal place considering the two teens got caught by a group of 5 pestering boys from differing schools, they just So happen to call friends, just as they reached their climaxes. The two never being able to live down the embarrassing ordeal and a rule set in place by the one and only tetsuro kuroo,stating that the pair had to be no closer than 8 feet away from each other in his house.

Clearly that rule was broken a few times, but what doesn't kill kuroo will only make him..make him...who knows honestly.Besides the point by some miraculous twisted miracle the close knit friend group ended up going to the same college together.

Their living arrangements was an interesting one. Of course all of the boys wanted y/n to live with them, they were all like a horde of bodyguards, it could be quite annoying at times having a group of guys tell an adult woman to go put on sweats in 100 degree heat instead of wearing shorts,but that's what you get when you surround yourself with a bunch of guys who were like brothers.

None of the boys wanted y/n to live alone, especially with a roommate. They hated the idea of her spending all of her time with someone she barley knew(mainly oikawa). Which is how they came up with the idea of pairing Bokuto and y/n to live together.

Was it the best idea to pair up two people who had clear sexual history and extreme feelings for each other? Maybe not. Did it happen? Of course it did considering who the boys were and how they wanted to play match maker.

The living arrangement lead to some interesting encounters. Eventually the two finally got together. It wasn't easy considering y/n was very stubborn and Bokuto was just too shy(ironic right?) to admit his feelings towards the younger girl.

Their personalities were an interesting pair.

Y/n was more on the introverted side, never really showed her emotions and kept to herself for the most part. Sarcasm was a second language to her, there was never a moment she didn't have someone rolling in laughter due to her quick wittedness or outright weird behavior.

Bokuto on the other hand was quite different. A clear extrovert who never failed to brighten up the room. His bright character was always a joy to be around, never quite knowing what he'd say or do leaving a kind of mysterious and almost mischievous aura about himself.Much like y/n he kept his emotions to himself and hid how he really felt, which proved catastrophic or their relationship.

The two loved each other so much it was kind of sickening to be around. The constant loving stares of sneaky kisses caused the other to normally cringe or throw pillows at the pair telling them to get a room. But much like the great sonatas of masterminds like Beethoven or Mozart, the beautiful pairs relationship,had a grand crescendo and a beautifully haunting decrescendo.

They were just bad at relationships. Mainly due to the lack of emotions between the two, and by that I mean the hiding of emotions. Their communication skills were way off, neither one of them knowing how to confront the other when they seemed to be at rock bottom which caused a huge rift in their relationship.

"Bokuto we need to stop seeing each other....we b-broke up a month a-ago"y/n whimper out softly as Bokuto continued to place light kisses along her neck.

Bokuto squeezed her waist tightly pushing her deeper into the wall as he pulled away from her neck meeting her eyes.

His eyes were glossed over, lust and sadness swimming through the cesspools of his golden irises as he breathed heavily.

A frown sat on his face as he shook his head, his slightly fallen hair tickling y/n's forehead. Y/n always thought his hair suited him so well. He looked so wild and young it made her knees buckle a bit.

".....just...let me have this..." Bokuto whispered against y/n's lips. That's all it took for y/n to attack Bokutos lips earning a small moan of admiration from him as he swiftly picked her up bringing her into their once shared bedroom.

The room was dark causing y/n's vision to completely cancel out making her hyper aware of her surroundings. Bokuto gently placed her on the bed kissing her cheek softly.

Y/n scrunched her eyes in confusion as she felt tiny droplets of water hit her face. She gently wiped her face as she tried to figure out the source of the water.

The moonlight from the night sky shined brightly into the room, as y/n fixated her eyes on the male hovering above her.

Bokuto had his eyes closed tightly as tears ran down his face continuously. He held a pained expression on his face as he visibly began to shake, his breathing speeding up as he sobbed quietly causing y/n to freeze all her actions.

Bokuto opened his eyes looking down at the girl beneath him. She looked at bit concerned mouth slightly agape,but more so shocked as tears hit her face from above. The pained look on Bokutos face caused y/n to well up with tears as well as the pair stared at eachother tears rolling down their faces.

They couldn't tell you what it was that caused them to do this, but their lips collided once again as their tears and lips synched together in perfect harmony as clothes began to be discarded at an unholy speed.

Bokuto leaned up as he caresses y/n's face softly, tears rolling down both of their faces as he smiled weakly, knowing this would be the last time the two ever got to experience the touch of each other in such an intimate and close way.with that Bokuto began to cry harder as he looked down at the love of his life.

"I love you" he whispered as he silenced both his and y/n's sobs with a kiss that set the mood for the entirety of the night. Slow, passionate and heartbreaking.

That's faithful night was two months ago. Y/n only finding out about her sudden pregnancy a month after their encounter.

"....we needed to break up..what happened happened" y/n said shrugging as Akaashi sighed running a hand down his face.

"What happened is that you broke up with him because for whatever reason the two of you couldn't talk your feelings out like adults. And like a love sick little puppy Bokuto agreed because he'd do anything to make you happy.you guys broke up but continued to sleep around to try to fulfill the heavy feelings you two still obviously have for each other and now you're pregnant with your ex's kid" Akaashi said truthfully as y/n frowned.

"Jesus next time sugar coat it a bit will ya?"

Y/n said standing up going over to the pot that was currently on the stove boiling noodles.

Akaashi swiftly pushed y/n away as he looked at her.

"How long have you known ?" Akaashi asked as y/n leaned back onto the kitchen counter.

"A month..I didn't show symptoms right away, that is until I missed my period and started throwing up in the middle of the night." Y/n said as Akaashi looked at her then her stomach before placing a hand on her stomach gently.

"Are you now just starting to show?" Akaashi asked as y/n nodded lifting up her shirt a bit.

"You can barley tell it just looks like I'm bloated" y/n said making a face as the sound her front door suddenly opening caught the twos attention.

"Akaashi? Y/n?" A voice said as y/n peeked her head around the coroner. She smiled bright seeing kuroo and konoha at the door taking their shoes off.

"I'm the kitchen" y/n said as she hopped on the counter. Footsteps were heard as the two men appeared in the kitchen.

"I can never understand how your kitchen looks so clean all the time. It's like you never cook in here" konoha said as he made a face lifting up the top of the pot that the noodles were boiling in, only for him to get slapped in the head by Akaashi, earning a loud ouch from the younger male.

"It's called cleaning aki" y/n hummed as kuroo walked over to the group of adults.

"Akaashis cooking....so whats the occasion?" kuroo said propping an elbow up on the island looking at y/n as konoha nodded.

"Yeah last time Akaashi cooked was when he bought those ugly ass sugar gliders home from the pet store" konoha said making a face as Akaashi turned around kicking konoha in the shin causing y/n and kuroo to laugh.

"You not bout to sit here and disrespect them in my face. You better be glad we in y/n's house or else I would've kick yo ugly ass" Akaashi sneered as konoha flicked him off.

Y/n grabbed the pregnancy test from off the the counter as she held it up.

"I'm pregnant" y/n said smiling handing kuroo the test as both boys stared at the test wide eyed.

"Seriously?!" konoha shouted as y/n nodded. He quickly picked her up squeezing her tight as he hugged her.

"YOU'RE PREGNANT!" kuroo yelled grabbing y/n from konoha as he hugged her tight.

Y/n laughed as konoha hid his face in his hands as he began to cry.He tetsuro, atsumu and oikawa were all such cry babies . Y/n laughed a bit already knowing how overdramatic atsumu and oikawa would be once they found out about the pregnancy.

"I can't believe this" konoha said smiling widely as y/n laughed.

"Y'all are both so overdramatic" y/n laughed as kuroo began dancing around the apartment.

"Overdramatic?! That's my god child you're talking about!" kuroo scolded as he walked up to y/n hugging her once again.

konoha sniffed a bit as he looked at

y/n,realization hitting him like a truck as he stopped crying looking At y/n intently, before sighing a bit laying his head on y/n's shoulder.

"Y/n....it's Bokutos isn't it?" He asked wiping his tears as y/n sighed. A small smile on her face as she looked at the boys sadly.

"Yeah..it is.."

A/N: I hope y’all like this🧍🏾‍♀️FIRST TIME KINDA NERVOUS🤪

#anime x black!reader #haikyuu!! x black reader #black reader #haikyuu!! x poc! reader #haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fluff #kur0m1.writes

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acrosstimeandspace · 3 years

Text

The Ensemble Cast’s Home

i just wanted to write a small drabble about the ensemble cast and their own dorm (aka, my self insert’s place), so here it is!

To the Ensemble cast of the Mankai Company, the second dormitory is their own paradise.

This is not to say that their own homes, which most of them often stayed in, were bad. But there was a different feeling to being in these dorms. For some, it felt like a break away; the younger members certainly felt it was like a step into adulthood, imagining what their own college dorms would be like. The older members grew to understand the actions of those in the main cast, such as Tsuzuru or Omi, always acting like older siblings. They were family, just as much as family as the main cast.

Iku’s troupe was his family as well, that was true, but there was something about Mankai’s ensemble cast that felt right. His troupe didn’t have a dorm, so perhaps that added to his closeness to his fellow ensemble members. But entering the door of the dorms after school or a play was electrifying. It was home, plain and simple, and he wouldn’t give it up for anything.

“There’s an atmosphere around here that’s always calling me back. I wouldn’t change it for the world.”

Arata was one of those who was most often with everyone in Mankai. He attributed it to his thirst for knowledge, wanting to learn as much as he could from his fellow actors. Helping sew a few costumes with Yuki here, learning new recipes from Omi for the ensemble dorm there, and picking up an editing program from Kazunari for fun. And showing these skills off to those at the dorm was fun, watching their eyes light up as he whipped up a new meal for them to enjoy together. He’d always wanted to learn more for himself, but now it was more fun to help the others within the company.

“I want to learn as much as I can, and I’ve never felt more motivation than when I’m here with you all.”

It was honest to say that Eiji joined Mankai because of the costumes. Being able to wear such interesting clothes was such a call to action. But, he found that it was much more fun to get into costume with his troupe. The looks of anxiety and excitement that passed over their faces was exhilarating. The only feeling that beat that was coming back to the dorms with them, the laughter filling the air as they settled into their beds.

“Being here is more than just costumes, it’s a sense of family! I’m so grateful to have met you all!”

Miki was confident in many aspects of his life. His path for his future high school, his passion for acting, his ability to be persuasive and charismatic. But he was most confident in the fun he had at the dorms. Sure, he had close friends, but his troupe members in the ensemble cast brought out a new side of mischief in him, made him feel free and happy. He’d found such a close friendship, it was so dear to him. He’d be happy to be in the ensemble cast for as long as they’d have him.

“This place has a sort of carefree vibe you can’t find anywhere else. I’m glad that I found acting, and you all.”

You could ask the local guitarist, Akito, how amazing it was to sit under the gazebo out back and write songs under the stars. Maybe it wasn’t the recording studio most artists dreamed of, but nothing was better than having his troupe mates come out back to see what he was doing. There always was, mysteriously, a scarf waiting for him on the colder days, a gentle reminder to take care and bundle up. He remembers fondly the day he spotted Micaiah knitting his, and the other’s resting snugly in his knitting bag.

“The dorms are warm, like a scarf gifted on a cold winter's day. I know I’ll carry this warmth with me forever.”

Takuya had no plans to act until watching the summer troupe practice. His search to try something new had opened up to a world of wonder, like a summer’s day off exploring wonderland when he was just a kid. Everything felt so freeing, and being able to laugh with the others and feel the excitement of putting on a performance made him feel like he was soaring. Sure, he wasn’t a part of the main cast of the Summer Troupe, but they were his friends and troupe members either way, he couldn’t have wished for anything more.

“Being here feels nostalgic in the best way, you know? It’s the breath of fresh air I was searching for.”

There were many good things Ichiro could say about the Mankai company. Perhaps he was influenced by the fact others from his group also worked there, but it was truly a home. It didn’t hurt that he had convinced some of the other members to work out, bonding together with the others in his own way. He’s still honestly startled by Muku’s strength, but to him, the kid really showed what the Mankai company was really like. It seemed small, ambitious, but the company could really pack a punch.

“A roof’s a roof, and a home’s a group of people you can trust. That’s exactly what’s here under this roof.”

There wasn’t really anything that had made Kengo want to act, despite being swept up by Citron and Kazunari. He didn’t understand what they saw in him, what the others see in him now. But it was undeniably fun, being with everyone, acting together. It was nice too, to come to this dorm with a delicious meal waiting for him and friends to hang out with. Plus, it was easy to snack on new foods with Micaiah always experimenting and cooking for them.

“There’s always something new to experience here, something crazy happening. It’s fun.”

Julian had no need to read any fortune to tell that this home he had found was something special. It was meant to be, to be a part of the Mankai’s ensemble cast. And it was fun to read the fortunes of the other members, though he could always know for success in their plays. All their efforts pointed towards it, no fortune could prove otherwise. This place, this troupe, is something great. At least, it’s something great to him.

“I feel like I’m the luckiest man in the world to be here, with you all.”

Determination is what pushed Yuichi through to becoming such a well renowned model, and now to polishing his acting. Whatever had pulled him to this stage specifically was perhaps one of the best gut feelings he had followed. It was nice, warm, in a cheesy way. But who would he be to complain when he enjoyed that feeling? The nice record player in the living room didn’t hurt either, often sweeping up whoever came through the door into a dance on happier days, and finding solace in the music it played other days as he sat by the fire on worse ones. There was comfort and effort in being here.

“Our effort shines through in our work here, I’m glad I saw that casting call. There’s something about this place that makes it feel special.”

It was true that Tsubasa, like Iku, was primarily part of another troupe. He had heard from countless people, particularly Yuzo, that he ran them ragged with his active imagination. But it was fun, to get the others in the dorms to play along. There was something fun about embracing the drama of theater, and he was glad to find such kindred spirits within these halls.

“Perhaps what I say is perceived as enthusiastic, but these buildings are more important than many others. At least to us, to me, they are, for they are our homes.”

It would be unfair to talk about the older brother figures of Mankai without mentioning Keita. It surprised him that he has such a brotherly side. But he loved the other members of Mankai like family, and became elated when they relied on him for something. Maybe he couldn’t act full time, but being able to stand on the stage in any way he could, and find a family along the way? Well, that was something special.

“I’m glad I can walk back on to the stage with you all. Being here has brought me so much happiness, I don’t even think I really realize how much this means to me some days.”

Micaiah watched from the kitchen with a smile, tapping the spoon he had used to stir tonight’s soup with a smile. The ensemble cast was small, maybe not as well noticed as his friends in the main cast. But they were with his dorms, and his family. And to see them all gathered around the table and talk about how happy they were to be here made him feel all warm and happy. There was a place for all of them, and Micaiah was glad to provide it.

#my writing #a3 #a3!#a3 ensemble cast #self insert #self insert writing #a3 drabble #a3!micaiah

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angstsfordays · 3 years

Text

Beautiful Pain (8)

Chapter Eight- It Starts Today

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Enhanced! Reader

Summary: Post-Blip, you started to feel lost when most of the Avengers team are gone. Coping with your loss, you still find hope in the connection with your remaining friends. However, it is not easy as everyone is trying to figure their lives after the Blip.

Having a long history with Bucky ever since you both saved each other from Hydra, you were still glad you had Bucky after all this time. However, as you try to give Bucky space to find himself after being pardoned for his past, you start to wonder if you should ever cross the line of friendship before it’s too late.

That thought might have to be put on hold though, when you, Sam and Bucky find yourselves having to deal with threats that continue to rise in a post-Blip world.

Chapter synopsis: You aren’t sure how to move on from the aftermath of Latvia. Was it time for you to confront your feelings for Bucky or would you retreat back, pretending as if nothing ever happened?

Warnings: Fluffiness. Slow-burn but we're getting there! Perhaps some tear-inducing moments! 😭

Word count: 61k

Notes: Hi! I’m back after my assignment submission. Currently on a short break before an exam is due in 2 weeks. Ever since the series ended, not gonna lie I was a little unmotivated to write. However, I didn’t want to let down all those who have supported this series so far.

Hope you enjoy this chapter! 🥰 Btw, I legit bawled my eyes writing the last part! 🥲

Please give support by leaving likes, comments or helping to reblogs! Thank you! 🙏🏼

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“I’m surprised you’re still here. Figured you would be resting at home after what had happened.” Melissa, the manager of the social service centre you work for came by your desk.

“Sorry, I took urgent leave.” Looking up from the backlog of paperwork that had accumulated, you gave a sheepish smile at how much you had to get done. Melissa leaned her weight on the side of your desk and glanced down to your tired eyes.

“It’s fine, Y/N. But I don’t know if diving back into work is really the best for you now. ” You closed your eyes and let out a heavy sigh. Pinching the bridge of your nose, your eyes opened to see Melissa looking down at you in concern.

You were grateful for her check-in. Despite your so-called Avengers status, she never treated you like you were special. You still recalled the day where you stepped into her office for an interview for an open position on her team. The shell-shocked expression she had when she recognised who had decided to show up for a job interview in her office on a Tuesday morning was priceless.

“I don’t understand. Why would you be applying for a regular job here? I would expect you to continue your superhero career?”

Melissa asked with a hint of doubt before looking through your resume. Tactical negotiation skills do seem like an asset they could really use here in social work….

“There’s no more Avengers now…. Besides, I’m tired of fighting and I’m ready to do something else. I like to believe the real heroic work lies in our community.”

Your response took Melissa by surprise, in a good way of course. There was no hint of superiority that you exuded. What she saw in front of her was a woman who seemed earnest to do good work for her community.

“Any other things you would like to add on to show how you can contribute to the team?” Melissa looked at you in a renewed light and she inwardly smiled at the sight of you deep in thought to find an interesting response like any other nervous interviewee.

“I’m basically a human heater. I could step up to help if the electrical heater is not working in the winter?” The expression you had on your face after giving your reply made Melissa chuckled out loud. You inwardly cringed at your seemingly lame response but eased up when you see Melissa breaking out into a laugh.

“Perfect. Welcome to the team, Y/N.” Melissa extended her hand towards you and yours eagerly reached out to return the gesture.

Working with the social service centre here in New York had been great. You had finally found renewed passion in your life after the events of the Blip and the loss of your friends.

Everyone at the office made up a close-knitted family-like working environment and it was an added bonus that Melissa was an amazing boss too and became an unexpected confidant of yours. You felt like you finally found your place once again.

“Work keeps my mind busy. I much rather be busy than being left alone to my thoughts.” You were referring to your own overthinking with the whole Bucky situation. It had only been a few days since you returned back from Latvia, but it felt painfully long.

Melissa looked over you once more in concern. She knew that you were more than willing to share your thoughts openly with her as you two have established a close friendship outside of work for the past few months. However, she knew that they were still some things that you kept to yourself in private.

While you always maintained an optimistic front, she knew that you were only human and susceptible to darker and deeper emotions especially after all you had been through.

“Hey, Joey is making a coffee run at that new coffee place around the block. They’re having a 1 for 1 coffee deal today. You want your usual?” Nodding gratefully, Melissa gave your shoulder a light squeeze before moving off.

You swivelled your office chair back to face your laptop. The words on the screen didn’t seem to focus as your mind was clouded with the recollection of what had happened after witnessing John did the unthinkable.

What he did back in Latvia had become international news the very same day, the amount of scrutiny and support for him were head-to-head on the internet. The news on television ever since you returned home had been covering it day and night. As you recalled back the order of events that happened back in Latvia, you could feel an invisible weight in your mind and heart.

Sam and Bucky went to find John while you tried to manage the aftermath of everything that had happened. You helped to settle things with Lemar and assisted in the reports that had to be accounted back to the authorities back in the states.

When Sam and Bucky returned back to find you, they filled you in on what happened and you learnt that they had to forcibly take back the shield from John. It was too dangerous to even let John have the shield anymore, given what he had done to Nico. You were sure that it must not have been an easy fight as you recalled the bruises on each man’s face.

The three of you had another meeting once everything was settled. You were disgruntled to learn that Karli and her group were once again on the run and you were all sure that she would now make sure that she’s impossible to be found.

Looking back and forth between your two boys who found themselves at a standstill, you quietly figured that this was the end of the mission regarding Karli. Even if it was for a brief moment, you felt happy to have worked with them. It almost felt like a sense of normalcy as you worked as a team again.

The reality was that you knew Sam and Bucky still had a strict working relationship and you ever wondered if there was a chance for all three of you to work together again as the Avengers. Preparing yourself for the disappointment, you silently watched as your boys exchanged silent looks once more.

“I guess this is goodbye.” You first spoke up amidst the silence. Both men looked up in surprise when you decided to voice out the reality of the situation. You walked over to Sam to give him a goodbye hug and lingered for a moment as he gave you a couple of pats on your back.

“You take care, alright? You know you can reach out to me anytime.” Sam assured you to which you returned a grateful smile.

“Of course, see you soon hopefully.”

As you pulled away from Sam, you turned to see Bucky standing with an unreadable expression on his face. Walking gingerly towards him, you wiped off the non-existent palm sweat on the side of your pants as your heartbeat started to pick up.

“Hey.” It was just one word but you felt yourself choking to utter it out. You weren’t sure how to face Bucky especially from whatever happened back with Karli.

You weren’t sure if you wanted to address the elephant in the room but you figured that you could brush it under the rug if it didn’t seem like Bucky was intending to talk about it too. There was a brief awkward silence before you decided to break it.

“I know you still have unfinished business” Bucky’s eyes glanced off to the side and then to the ground before they met yours. Bucky was not surprised that you understood him so well. Yes, he had unfinished business with Zemo and he needed to follow through with it.

However, he also wanted to badly talk things out with you. Many revelations had come to light unexpectedly from one event to another and he wanted clarity.

“You wanna come?” Giving a brief smile at his invite, you considered it for a brief second. After everything that happened from Germany to Madripoor and to Latvia, you believed you needed to take a step back.

You would have never thought that your deep-seated feelings for Bucky would ever come to light, and it was in the worst-case scenario imagined.

What should have been a private and intimate revelation had turned out otherwise. Karli had inadvertently outed you and you were forced to confront your feelings for Bucky before you were even ready.

As much you wanted to talk things out with Bucky, it was not the right timing. Not with Zemo still out there roaming freely. Unfortunately, work needed to come first in this situation and you had to let it take priority over your heart.

Immediately as you shook your head, you could see the puzzled expression painted on Bucky’s face. He did not expect your response as he figured you would have been more than willing to accompany him.

“You don’t need me, Buck.” You were wrong, Bucky thought. Yes, he could handle Zemo on his own but he wanted nothing more than to have you by his side especially since he had learnt of your deeper feelings for him. He didn’t want to let you leave just yet.

Wrapping your arms behind his neck, you pulled Bucky slightly down in an embrace before placing a short peck on his lips. “See you around, Buck.”

“Change of plans, Sam. Mind if I head back with you?” Seeing you turning your back to walk back to Sam, Bucky could feel a sense of disappointment and hurt washing over him. Tuning out Torres’ comments, Bucky stalked out of the door.

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It was not difficult to figure out where Zemo would have escaped to. As the memorial statue to commemorate those who had fallen in the events of Ultron came into sight, Bucky’s fingers clenched tighter around the gun he had been holding.

“I thought you would be here sooner. Don’t worry, I’ve decided I’m not going to kill you-” Zemo could see Bucky in his peripheral line of sight.

“Imagine my relief.” Bucky returned sarcastically. Zemo turned to meet Bucky before he continued to speak.

“Or your pretty friend.” A small smirk formed on Zemo’s face as he sees Bucky clicked the gun in his hand with a hardened look.

“You touch her and I would end you right here.” It was almost satisfying to get a rile out of Bucky and Zemo knew you were his weak point.

He scoffed at how it was clear as day to everyone that you two had something deeper beyond friendship or camaraderie. And yet, the two of you chose to never address it.

Zemo then went on to talk about how Karli was beyond redemption and that warning Sam had been a futile attempt. He believed Bucky had the will to actually do what’s necessary, given that he was indeed programmed to kill.

Bucky was seething with silent rage. He was not a killer anymore. Zemo’s mere insinuation only served to remind him how people never changed their perspective on him. Bucky responded that he would figure out a way that didn’t pander to Zemo’s drastic methods.

Raising his right arm, the gun was pointed towards Zemo. The rush of emotions overcame Bucky as he thought about how Zemo made his life hell, accusing him of a crime he didn’t commit.

Despite some truths to his words, Zemo was relentless and pragmatic in achieving his goals and he was deemed too dangerous to be left unattended.

Gripping the gun tightly, Bucky cocked back the trigger and let it go. Zemo accepted his fate, knowing he had done Bucky wrong. The sound that followed next was not as deafening as the silence that followed next. Zemo then realised Bucky had indeed managed to move on from his past and did not succumb to his darker desires to kill him.

Bucky watched on as the Dora Milajae came to escort Zemo, with plans to take him to the raft where he would face imprisonment for the rest of his life.

Ayo came up to Bucky’s and advised him that it would be best if he avoids coming back to Wakanda for the time being. Bucky agreed that it was fair.

“Give my regards to Y/N.” Bucky nodded once more at Ayo’s words, however, the masked expression on his face did not go unnoticed by the Dora Milajae’s second in command.

“Is there something wrong?”

“No, uhm-nothing. It’s fine.” Ayo gave Bucky a knowing glance before bidding him goodbye.

“Hey, I might have another favour to ask of you.”

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Sam: How have you been doing?

Y/N: Alright…I’m busy with work. :)

Sam: Have you spoken with Bucky?

Y/N: Not really, I know he’s probably finishing up business in Sokovia.

Sam: Shouldn’t he be back home by now?

Y/N: To be honest, I’m not sure. I haven’t reached out and he didn’t contact me either.

Sam: Hey, are you alright?

Y/N: Honestly….no…I thought I could distract myself with work but my mind has never been rested ever since Latvia.

Y/N: I don’t know how to face him after what went down. Just wanna bury me in a deep hole or maybe get snapped again. Hmmm….

Sam: Girl, have you gone mad?

Y/N: Maybe

Sam: Hey, why not come over to my place for the weekend? You can finally meet Sarah and the boys.

Y/N: Oh no, Sam. I could never intrude.

Sam: What are you talking about? I invited you!

Y/N: ……….

Sam: Come on! Hey, you ever been on a fishing boat before?

Y/N: Not that I could recall of….

Sam: Then that’s perfect! Come check out my family’s boat, although it’s not in the best shape. Been trying to spruce it up and get it back to its former glory….

Y/N: Alright, dad.

Sam: Hey, watch your manners.

Y/N: HAHAHA ;) See you soon!

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You were pumped to head down to Sam’s hometown for the weekend. It was long overdue after hearing about them so much.

Adjusting the strap of your duffle bag, you gingerly walked to the front door and gave a few knocks. Tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ears, you fidgeted on your toes, hoping that you would be able to make a good first impression.

When the door opened, your eyes first looked to see no one until you averted them down. You saw a young boy with glasses looking up at you with curious eyes. Mustering your best smile, you let out a warm greeting. “Hi!”

“Who’s that AJ?” You heard a woman’s voice calling after the boy in front of you.

“Mum, there’s an Avenger at the door!” The boy hollered back before running back into the house. You weren’t sure what to do next so you remained where you stood. Within a matter of seconds, the woman you had heard about so much appeared right in front of your sight.

“Oh, hi! You must be Y/N.”

“Er-yes, I am!” You returned enthusiastically and Sarah, as she introduced herself ushered you into the door. Your eyes roamed around the homey and cosy décor that filled the Wilson home.

“I didn’t expect you to show up so early! Have you eaten?” Nodding in response, Sarah pointed out to where you could put your bag down and went back to hustling in the kitchen. You told her you already had a quick bite before coming over and she looked at you with a pleasing smile.

“Sam’s actually at the dock right now,” Sarah informed you and you blanched at the thought of being by yourself without Sam to be a buffer for your first meeting with his family. However, your worries were for nothing as Sarah welcomed you warmly.

“Don’t worry, you can join me, I’m heading over too.” Her friendly demeanour eased your initial nervousness and you nodded eagerly in response.

As you and Sarah made your way over to the docks, the two of you fell into easy conversation. You learnt from her that she was struggling to keep the family business afloat and how they couldn’t even manage to get a loan from the bank.

Nevertheless, Sam was determined and managed to call in favours from their close-knitted community to chip in some help. A sudden wave of guilt washed over you when you realised that Sam had been facing real problems of his own and that you weren’t aware of it to help.

You had wished that you had been a better friend. Being the kind soul she was, Sarah dismissed your negative thoughts and reassured you that it was alright. From what Sam had spoken of you, she was eager to meet you herself.

“Sam says you always have his back when you are all out there in all the action.”

“Of course, we are a team. Sam’s a great person so it’s not hard to be there for him when he needs it.” Hearing your answer had Sarah throw a grateful smile your way. She was glad that Sam had someone he could trust while he’s out fighting the threats of the world.

As you two approached a medium-sized boat, you could make out the figure of Sam from a distance. You were excited to run up to greet him but it was the second figure on the boat that you stopped in your tracks.

A high-pitch whistle suddenly burst into your eardrums and you realised one of the pipes from the boat was loose. You saw Bucky heading down to help Sam and you gulped nervously as you continued to watch the scene happening in front of you.

You were definitely not expecting to see Bucky here in Louisiana. Why was he even here? Your eyes moved to see Sarah moving closer to where the men stood and Bucky introduced himself with a charming smile.

Sarah returned his greeting politely and looked over to Sam. “Hey, Sam! Look who I brought.”

Back turned, you were hoping to escape unnoticed, yet you were too slow as you heard Sam calling out for you.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Slowly turning your back, you were greeted by the sight of Sam and Bucky looking with equally confused expressions on their faces.

Not knowing what to say, your eyes blinked far more than times than normal as you tried to straighten up and looked convincing. “Toilet?” You muttered out hesitantly. Sam was not convinced at all as one of his brows was raised in question.

“You came all the way to my hometown, the least you could do is say hi first.” Grimacing and giving a sorry look, you made your way to the boat and Sam helped you down.

“Hey, Sam. Thanks for inviting me.” You spoke as you gave him a hug in greeting. Bucky was surprised, to say the least. He was only stopping by to drop a package for Sam but he never expected to see you here.

He had trouble reaching out to you, crafting messages every other hour and deleting them before deciding to not contact you at all. He was wondering if you were still mad at him from when he last saw you in Latvia.

“Wait, what are you doing here, Y/N?”

“Sam invited me to come to stay with his family for the weekend, like a getaway.” Meeting Bucky’s bright eyes always did something to your guts. Your breath hitched at how he could so simply beautiful with the sea view set against his back.

“Or more like I want to introduce you to my family and planned a surprise proposal so that we can be engaged by the end of the week.” Sam’s arm landed with a slight thud around your shoulders. You turned to see him wiggling his brows and donning a mischievous smile.

Eyes widening once you processed his words, you can’t help a chuckle as you knew that Sam was trying to crack a witty joke to mess with Bucky. Bucky looked like he was about to actually combust and kill Sam with his fiercest glare.

“Oh Sam, what a way to ruin the surprise. I expected you to be more romantic.” You quipped back to play along to his shenanigans. Sam ruffled your hair endearingly before looking to Bucky who didn’t seem one bit amused.

“Woah, I’m just kidding. Would you look at his face? Man, I got you good.” A wide smile broke out on Sam’s face before he started cackling.

“That’s not funny.” Buck look to the side and gave out a short sigh of relief. He looked back at you with an unreadable expression. Sensing the tension in the atmosphere, Sam believed it was time to leave you two alone.

“Remember to thank me later,” Sam whispered into your ear before giving you a pat on your shoulder. Your brows furrowed in confusion as you looked at him walking off to the other end of the boat.

Bucky still continued to stand at his spot and you took the first step towards him. He was still silent and giving you an infamous brooding stare. Bringing two fingers to the corner of his lips, you gently lifted each side up to force Bucky into a smile.

“You are going to look physically 106 for real if you continue to frown like that.” You teased Bucky in hopes that he could ease up.

“Blame Sam.” He huffed like a little child who got nagged by his mother.

“Sam was just joking. You know that.” You removed your fingers from his cheeks and Bucky immediately missed the touch that you gave.

“Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

“Give me a smile.” Seeing your doe eyes looking at him adorably, Bucky felt his icy exterior melting. Pretending to clear his throat, he looked to the side before facing you with a tight but warm smile. His smile widened when he saw you returning a big grin.

For a moment, it didn’t feel like what happened in Latvia had crossed both of your minds. It was just back to the way things had been before. It was safe and comfortable. But was it what you really wanted?

Were you just going to ignore your feelings for Bucky forever?

“Are you two continuing to get lost in each other’s eyes?” Sam’s holler snapped you and Bucky out of your moment. The two of you awkwardly shifted before heading over to where Sam was. You both offered to help Sam on his family boat to speed things up.

It was a truly therapeutic afternoon for all three of you. Free from the world fighting and just hanging out as a bunch of friends (more so of your thought than the boys). The entire time, Bucky was subtlety (or not) flexing his strength as he took charge of most of the heavy work.

You could see the impressive looks from some of the community members that walked past and you smirked at how Bucky was trying his best to look unbothered from the attention.

“My welding machine is broken when I managed to find it, sorry Sam.” One of the elders stopped by the boat to tell Sam and he reassured that it was fine. However, you could still see his worried expression.

“I guess it’s time for me to step up.” You exclaimed while putting down the sanding paper in your hands. You asked Sam to guide you to what needed to be welded together. Extending two fingers together to mimic a gun, you gathered flame-like energy and started to weld the pieces of metal together like it was nothing.

You didn’t realise you had attracted a small crowd as everyone gathered to see the woman who was shooting fire out of her fingertips. “That’s so cool!” A young boy yelled in excitement as he jumped up and down.

Once you’re done, you looked to see the several kids clapping fervently. You gave your best smile and threw in a two-finger salute their way.

“Seems like you have fans now,” Bucky remarked to which you smirked coyly. “What are you talking about? I always have fans.”

After everything was done for the day, Sam brought you all some cold beer to end things right. Clinking your bottles, you took a seat beside Sam as Bucky talked about how he needed to get a hotel for the night before catching his flight out tomorrow.

As he spoke, he looked over to you with an expecting look before he took another gulp of beer. Sam scoffed before convincing Bucky to stay for the night with his family. Bucky still awkwardly shifted as he tried to decline the offer.

You felt a slight jab in your waist and turned to see Sam nodding over to Bucky.

“Come on Bucky, I’m also imposing here too. Don’t leave me by myself.” Just when Bucky was sure that he would flat out refuse Sam, your words managed to bring him back. He chuckled at you giving a sad puppy look before he admitted defeat.

As the three of you returned to Sam’s house, you all washed up and got ready for dinner that Sarah prepared. You offered to help despite her insistence that you’re a guest. It was such a nice peaceful moment when all of you squeezed around the now seemingly small table now that you and Bucky joined in.

Nevertheless, dinner went well and the conversations were great. AJ and Cass heard from the kids in the neighbourhood about what you did and asked you to do a little demonstration before they got silenced by their mother.

“Are you like Uncle Sam’s girlfriend?” You choked on the water that you had just drunk and Sam who was beside you helped to pat your back down.

All attention went to little AJ who looked very serious in having his question answered. All the adults at the table didn’t know whether to laugh or panic at his seemingly innocent query.

Sarah handed you a napkin to wipe your face and you smiled gratefully. Bucky was experiencing a gnawing feeling. Sure, it was a kid asking an innocent question but it bothered him more than it should. His eyes averted to where you sat and he saw how you were trying to come up with a response.

“What makes you think so, kid?” Sam quipped in before extending an arm out to wrap around your shoulders. The spoon in Bucky’s hand was on the verge of being bent into half.

“I don’t know. You never bring a girl home.” AJ’s reasoning had you giggling at his adorable nature.

“Well, how about it babe? Should we tell them?” Sam looked at you with a smug look. You turned to see Bucky trying to look neutral but you knew his irritated look when you saw one.

“Sam….” You spoke in a warning tone before he snickered. Sam threw his hands up in defeat before turning back to his nephew to explain.

“Y/N’s a friend, she’s like a buddy to me.” Sam ruffled your hair before giving a pat on your head.

“You have someone you like, Auntie Y/N? Can I call you auntie?” Cass chimed into the conversation and your facial expression betrayed you before you couldn’t even pretend.

You sent a fleeting glance to a person with bright cerulean eyes before you cleared your throat and nodded to Cass.

“It’s a secret.” You spoke with a mischievous glint in your eyes. Finger raising up to your lips, you let out a small spark of energy which wowed the two young boys. You threw in an extra wink before you all resumed dinner.

The spoon in Bucky's hand was saved from being rendered useless. Letting out a relieved sigh, Bucky's heart started to pick up again as he thought about your response.

When would he able to catch you at the right time to talk?

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AJ shared his room with his mum while Sam bunked in with Cass for the night. You took Sam’s room while Bucky took the couch downstairs. Sleep didn’t come easy for you that night and you decided to make your way down.

Once you were on the last step, you could see Bucky stretched out on the small couch. You made sure to be as quiet as possible before going to get a glass of water. Once you had your drink, you walked over and stopped a few feet short of where Bucky was.

The moonlight from the window added a beautiful glow onto him and you smiled at how he had a peaceful expression on his face as he slept.

Taking silent steps, you kneeled down near to where his head was. Seeing how he was letting out soft breaths, you believed that he was deep in a peaceful slumber.

You couldn't stop yourself from reaching out to brush the tips of his hair before sliding your fingers to stroke the apple of his cheeks. You smiled to yourself looking at the endearing sight in front of you.

Figuring you didn't want to stay on acting like a creep, you stood up and tucked yourself further into the warmth of your woolly cardigan.

You tiptoed to the front door and walked out to the lake by the Wilson house.

Breathing in the fresh air, you took in the beautiful night view and admired how the moon was reflected on the lake.

“Y/N.” Your eyes were closed and you wondered if you were hearing things. When your name was called a second time, you realised it wasn't just imagination anymore.

Letting out a shaky breath, you turned to see Bucky walking towards you with a nervous look. It dawned upon you that the inevitable moment had arrived. Now that you both had a temporary moment of peace from the non-stop fighting, you figured it was time to have the talk.

Standing face to face with Bucky, your gaze concentrated on the space beyond his shoulders. You weren’t sure how to face him in the eye yet.

It felt like minutes had passed before Bucky gathered up the courage to speak first. His hands were in his pockets as he looked down on the ground awkwardly.

“Did you mean everything? Every word you said to Karli back in Latvia.” Your eyes fluttered shut before looking back to see his intense blues peering back at you.

“Why would I lie?” You answered back in a whisper. Bucky nodded in understanding before continuing. “When did it start?”

“Remember Romania? We were at the farmer’s market and you were intensely deciding between the plums or tangerines. The poor owner thought you were getting pissed at him or something.”

“That’s what did it for you?” Bucky looked confused at your explanation. He thought it would have been some sentimental or romantic moment that you had realized your feelings for him.

“It’s cute. You’re cute.” You justified yourself nervously, murmuring the last part softly.

“Your definition of cute is weird.” He mumbled bashfully as he looked down to the ground in embarrassment. Shrugging your shoulders, you started to feel shy yourself.

“Were you ever going to tell me?” You let out a hum and thought deeply before speaking.

“I didn’t want to give you something to worry about when you’re still unpacking from the Blip, Steve leaving and your pardon. I also know you had your amends….didnot felt like it was the right time. Never felt like there was ever a right time with all the crazy things happening around us.”

“To be honest Bucky, it might have been hard for me but I would have been okay to not say anything at all. Sometimes loving someone doesn’t mean you have to be with them. True love is when you just want that person to be happy.” When you realised you had used the word love, you bit your lips as if to hold your tongue.

You slapped a hand to your lips before turning your back on Bucky, grimacing at the fact that you went that far in your explanation.

Bucky felt an emotion that was indescribable in words as he processed what you had just said. He then realised that you had always been selfless for him even it meant that you disregarded yourself in the process. How could he ever deserve someone like you?

Placing his hands on your shoulder to turn you back, Bucky was a little surprised to find you tearing up. You quickly wiped them away and averted your eyes away from him. Cradling your face gently in both his hands, Bucky gently wiped away a few more tears that cascaded down.

He didn’t want to see you cry anymore. He realised seeing you like this has brought him greater pain than he could have imagined.

He was at a loss for words but Bucky knew what he wanted to do next. He leaned down to place his lips gently on yours and your hands went to rest on the spot where his neck and shoulders meet.

Bucky hummed when he felt you returning the kiss and slid his vibranium hand down to your waist to pull you closer. Putting all his feelings into the kiss, Bucky wanted to let you know what he truly felt.

He slanted his mouth to deepen the kiss. You let out a soft gasp at the surprise but it was not unwelcome. You had always imagined what it would be like to finally kiss him and it was even better than you had imagined. Your arms snaked behind his neck to pull him down while his hands roamed around your back to feel you closer.

The two of you eventually pulled away for a little air after kissing for what it seems like forever. Bucky’s thumb swiped your swollen lips before learning it for another kiss once more. “I don’t deserve you.” He muttered through his breath.

“Don’t ever say that. Stop thinking of yourself as being unloveable. Know that you're the most precious thing to me. I will go through hell and back for you, always.” You confessed with an absolute resolve before turning shy. Your eyes moved to your hands smoothing down the material of his shirt.

Hearing your confession made Bucky the happiest and luckiest man in the world. How was he able to find someone like you who loved him despite everything he was and had done.

There used to be someone like that for him. Yet, in the end, he left Bucky alone in this world. Looking down at how you were shyly avoiding his gaze, Bucky's heart tightened in a good way.

He kissed the crown of your head before pulling you in for a bone-crushing hug as if he didn’t believe this moment wasn’t real and didn’t want to let go.

Once you two pull apart, his arms were still wrapped around your waist while you held his arms. "I love you so much, doll. You're the best thing that's ever happened."

Looking up to meet Bucky's eyes with renewed confidence, you never want him to doubt your feelings for him. He had gone through so much and you just wanted to never make him feel like he's alone.

"I will always be here for you, Bucky. You are my person to love and protect for as long as I live."

Your words were simple yet they were backed by such powerful and sincere emotions. Before he knew it, tears started to well up in his eyes.

Bucky started sniffing as tears started falling down his cheeks uncontrollably.

You were surprised at the sudden turn of events and you went to wipe his tears away with your fingers.

You found yourself joining him in crying as well but you knew that they were happy tears. Bucky brought his forehead to rest on yours as the two of you both cried silently.

"You're my only person. I will love you forever." Bucky spoke quietly before he leaned in for another kiss.

The two of you didn't want to let the other go that night. Bucky suggested for him to crash Sam's room but you were sure that your friend would throw a fit the next day.

You tried to control the volume of your giggles as you squeezed to fit into the too-small couch for two. Both of your limbs were tangled messily and you both embraced each other tightly to prevent yourselves from falling down.

The rest of the night ended in endless exchanges of smiles, eskimo and deep kisses. Both you and Bucky had finally found a home in each other.

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The next morning

The sunlight shone throughout the whole room and you were reluctant to open your eyes. You felt Bucky stirring behind you as he tightened his hold on your waist.

"Oh heck no, did you two dirty my couch? I didn't give up my bed for you to snuggle with grandpa here, Y/N!" A sheepish grin formed on your face before you opened your eyes to see Sam standing with his arms crossed and a mocked disapproval on his face.

"Auntie Y/N likes Uncle Bucky!" AJ exclaimed aloud as he and his brother stepped into the living room.

You felt Bucky's chest rumbled slightly behind your back and you knew that he was amused to have riled Sam early in the morning. Pulling up the thin blanket over your head as if it could save you from embarrassment, Sam continued to go on his rant.

"Morning, my love." You turned to see Bucky looking at you fondly before leaning down to kiss the top of your brow.

Today is only the start of your forever.

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"Wolves are known to follow one female wolf until death."

- Moon Lovers: Scarlet Heart Ryeo

P.S This is my all-time favourite kdrama. Check it out if you haven't! I find that the male lead has many similar qualities I see in Bucky and what a coincidence that he is also known as a wolf in the show just like our white wolf here.

Tag list: @tanyaherondale @spookycereal-s @cataves @archaeoheart @conflicted-noxsirius @archaeoheart @idiotinnit @anxious-stitcher @lindseyrae20 @mads-weasley @taina-eny @intothesoul @oopsiedoopsie23 @detecellie @blueboxesandcats

#bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes #tfawts #bucky barnes fanfiction #angstsfordays #marvel fanfiction #beautiful pain

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deco-devolution · 3 years

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Sexuality & Gender In Columbia

Okay, so this is a frankly huge topic to cover, and because there is so little direct reference to any non-heterosexual/cisgender culture in the games, a lot of this will be me sharing/explaining my headcanons/worldbuilding. My ideas will be based on historical record of LGBT+ struggles at the time (1890-1915) and mostly US-centric, as Columbia seems to be fairly westernized. in addition, I will be focusing purely on the lesbian, gay, bisexual and trans communities to cut down on post size and research time. Here we go!

Note: These all refer to Columbia (Rapture has a separate post) culture in the peak of the city’s life- a snapshot into queer Columbia circa 1910, roughly speaking. As such my talk about the culture is purely as I’d imagine it to be at that specific time only with no details as to the cultural development to that point.

cw for homophobia, transphobia, q slur

Sexuality In Columbia

If you’re not straight it’s over for you

Quips aside, just from playing the game you can tell Columbia is ruled by the most staunch of conservatism. The Edwardian Era in real-world history made heavy emphasis on modesty and a sense of duty but Columbia takes it a step beyond, and this can be seen in most every example of media or dialogue found in-game. Having such traditional Biblical leanings, it can easily argued that this also extends to sexuality.

Right off the bat, I feel like this is Heterosexual (& Cisgender) Land™. Any other sort of attraction, be it gay, bisexual, or anything else, is considered reckless experimentation at best and ungodly and deserving of punishment at worst. Aside from the religiously-motivated belief that only straight relationships are legit, there’s another reason they’re so heavily emphasized- population growth. Columbia, for all its pomp still has a relatively small population on a national scale- just from some educated guesses I’d put it around the borough to town region, as indicated on the settlement hierarchy of ekistics. While the limited space of the city means that the population can’t just continue to grow, a certain rate of births is needed to keep the population level.

Interestingly enough, even though Columbia is a hotspot of religious zealotry, the city still follows the conventions of Edwardian/Early WWI society- very proper, highly formalized in its ideals. Aside the propaganda and fearmongering, personal details are still taboo in polite conversation.

Cruising is done in places where social conventions are significantly different from formal events or even everyday conventions- namely the beach, pubs and lounges.

In the same vein, hookups, flings, and dates are called vague things like “going out to lunch/drinks”, “going for a stroll” or “having a picnic” and same-gender partners are typically referred to as close friends. It’s all very underhanded, the result of both Edwardian discreetness and closeted language.

Gender In Columbia

Like most of Columbian society, the queer groups in Columbia tend to gather based on gender. Lesbians share space with bisexual women, and gay men stick with bisexual men. As far as trans communities go, however, the cisnormative, rigid interpretation of gender predominant in Columbia means that they tend to be misunderstood among the other queer groups. Typically not in a blatantly hostile way but rather an obnoxiously condescending “poor confused dear” way.

Gender is not so much an identifier as much as an determinator; whatever you are assigned will be the factor driving not only your upbringing but your life choices as well.

There are quite a few social clubs that operate as safe spaces for the community- they typically rotate between the members’ houses and frequently merge or splinter with or from other groups, going from book club, to knitting social to any other politely banal gathering.

For those looking to dress how they’d like in safety, ‘costume clubs’ are popular among gender non-conforming, trans people and those interested in crossdressing. They present themselves as sort of novelty dance halls with every day being a masquerade. While technically legal, their image is strongly connected to immorality and looseness in Columbia and as such they’re rare and subject to higher levels scrutiny then other halls.

Because of the rigidity of the culture, the LGBT+ culture in Columbia uses nonverbal queues to state their identities- for example men place certain flowers in buttonholes or alternatively pin them to their lapels to let outsiders know they’re in the community. Women can put these same blossoms in their hats, brooches and hair. These include flowers such as lavender, violets, pansies, carnations and daffodils.

There are HRT gene tonics for sale- they’re marketed under the guise of improving a woman’s femininity or man’s masculinity, they’re sold in pharmacies in the health and beauty aisles without the need for a prescription. This helps some looking to transition do so much easier, though the issue of financial barriers for those who are younger and/or living in poverty still linger. As far as options like SRS go, the procedure is entirely underground, practiced by surgeons of varying repute. While being able to do so successfully is considered a show of skill, most practitioners and citizens are morally opposed to the idea.

Unlike Rapture, there’s not many fun or quirky terms for LGBT+ citizens. Those with same gender attraction are rudely referred to as “victims of unnatural passions” and those who ID as anything other then cisgender are accused of “falling into delusions of identity”. Among themselves though, WLW call themselves “Lady Lovers of Liberty” (as in the statue based on the Roman goddess Libertas) while MLM call themselves “Sons of Antinous” while trans citizens typically refer to themselves as “Children of Agdistis”. (Note that while Agdistis was portrayed as intersex in Roman mythology, their nonbinary existence and transformative identity made them a relatable icon for most trans people in Columbia)

Questions or comments? Let me know! Thanks for reading.

#mine #bioshock infinite #biotalk #bioshock #will update soon!

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burnedbyshoto · 4 years

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love is in the air | bakugou k.

— Different worlds, different stories, different beginnings. It didn’t matter what universe you were in because there was one consistency in these worlds: you and Bakugou were always in love. Was it just a coincidence that love is in the air whenever the two of you were involved? No, it was destiny. —

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pairing: bakugou katsuki x reader

warnings: cursing (all), fluff (all), alcohol consumption (story 3)

word count: 3,505

a/n: so this is for my springtime anon for the bnhaclaimedmysoul event!!!! this was written for @brattyquirks !!!! anyways, I couldn’t decide what to write you sab, so I decided to hell with it and gave you four little short stories based off your favorite cliches!!!! I hope you enjoy 🌺

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SPIN THE BOTTLE

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“If you don’t spin the bottle, we’re going to make you kiss Mineta!”

“You can’t make me do shit, raccoon eyes! This’s a fucking brats game anyways, why the hell am I going to play?!”

Your eyes shone with ever-loving glee at the sight of Bakugou, gritting his teeth with his lip pulled up into a snarl. His eyes were focused on Mina, who was waving the bottle in her hand, her face in a full grin while she stared on the peeved ash blond man.

“Because its a staple to a teenager’s life, and apparently no ones played yet!”

“It’s not going to be something I fucking play!”

It often amused you that Mina was one of the only people in the class who wasn’t afraid to play chicken with Bakugou, even more hilarious being that she won the majority of the time.

“Midoriya and Todoroki already took their chances at spinning it once,” Mina sighed, her arms picking up into a shrug while she shook her head. You watched in quiet glee in the way her eyes slowly opened, like some predator corning in on her prey. “But hey, I guess that means you’re not—”

“Give me the fucking bottle!”

And she had won.

Folding your arms, you watched Bakugou break into the circle of students, slamming the glass bottle onto the floor and turning it as quickly as he could, the words “die” announced to the class. You took in the way that his face was set into a frown, the corners of his mouth cemented into this permanent scowl. But you knew that it was for show, even you knew Bakugou better after three years of being his classmate, his eyes always told a different story.

The two of you were pretty close for what could be considered relationships for Bakugou. While you weren’t apart of his core group of friends, the two of you held mutual respect and trust for each other that transcended that of daily interaction. The bottle spun for what seemed like ages, and you watched in hopefulness that it would land on someone good.

Slowly the lip of the bottle landed on Shoji, and Bakugou raged that it wasn’t fair.

Much to Bakugou’s unamusement, to Shoji’s prayers that he wouldn’t be killed, and to the rest of your classmates tear-jerking howling laughter they kissed.

“I’m fucking out of here!” Bakugou screamed, throwing himself to his feet, ready to retreat to his room with the hours of night looming in. “Get this shitty game away from me, I never want to play—”

“You can’t leave yet!” Mina cried out, grabbing his wrist before he could escape the circle, “Y/n-chan is the last one to go, and you have to watch!”

“I don’t fucking care if it was All Mights damn turn, I’m not staying!”

“Come on, Bakugou, it’s not like it’ll take more than ten seconds!” you chide, your nose wrinkling at him in your mock disgust. “What’s the worst that’ll happen? I get to kiss your best friend?”

Bakugou’s nostrils flare, a visible indicator that he took in your words as a challenge of sorts and would follow through with staying. So with a grin, you grabbed the bottle and spun it.

You didn’t really care about who it landed on; after all, most of your classmates had already had strange matchups, the worst being a kiss from Kaminari and Mineta. As long as you didn’t land on Mineta, you’d call that a win. The bottle stilled, and you looked down to where it was pointing.

Bakugou.

His eyes widened, pupils were blown, and his jaw to the floor.

“HELL NO, I JUST KISSED OCTOPUS LIKE HELL I’M GOING TWICE!”

“Oh my god, you big baby,” you laugh, standing up. You reach Bakugou, who looks seconds from fighting, moments from running, yet allowed you to approach him regardless. What a rule-abiding nerd he could be.

“Pucker up,” you tease and seal your lips over his while your classmates scream.

After you pulled away, you hated to admit that your heart hammered in your ears, months of denial over your feelings gone up in flames while he stares at you in silence. Your classmates begin to clean up; no one quite aware of how you were both just staring. But when Mina’s arm is thrown around your shoulders, your attention is stolen, and you walk off, ready to help out.

In twenty minutes, you make it back to your room, your lips still tingling in their tiny explosions of the past feeling of his smooth lips against yours. A wistful sigh escaped your lips, you knew better than to expect anything from King Explosion Murder himself.

A knock on the door startled you. Having been caught up in thought, the noise made you curse under your breath. Walking to the door, you opened it up, your eyes widening when you saw Bakugou there, his eyebrows knit, lips pursed.

“You okay, Bakugou?” you asked, concerned for your friend.

He finally meets your gaze, and his stare is intense. Vermillion eyes hold yours without a single waiver in them; it’s intense, almost too intense to the point where you want to look away. But you don’t, you can’t look away. A harsh expel of air escapes his nose, and you’re useless to the way that he surges forward, hands grasping your cheeks and lips crashing against yours.

There’s nothing to say to this, but you can attest to the fact that your hands grabbed his biceps, your lips moving passionately with his until your bedroom door closed behind him.

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BEST FRIENDS BEING IN LOVE WITH EACH OTHER

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Days at the lake were something you earnestly enjoyed. The gentle feeling of spring in the air, the sun warm against your skin, and the fresh green plants emerging from the once dead fields. It was perfect, almost tranquil if you were quiet enough.

But if there was anything to know about you and your best friend Bakugou Katsuki, it was that tranquility was something that happened once in a lifetime, and that moment was not now.

“Running away is useless!” Bakugou roared from a distance.

The cold sand flung from your feet while you ran as fast as you possibly could, the oxygen in your veins feeling like fire as you attempted to both run away and laugh at the predicament he was in.

What had started as a fun day at the lake that had finally thawed over from winter winds, turned into something stupidly competitive. You wouldn’t say you were a sore loser because you didn’t lose, but in this case where Bakugou had very obviously beaten you in rock skipping contest because he applied his quirk after you went without using your own. So in your fuming loss, you used your quirk to dump water all over his hair, leaving his hair and shoulder soaked.

His reaction to this was almost feline-like, his back arching, face set in an uproarious hiss while you howled with laughter, already running away. It took him time to respond to your act of war, but with him running like hell was at his heels, it was only a matter of time before he caught up to you.

You screamed for forgiveness, trying with everything you had to escape from his tight and torturous grasp, but you were losing.

“This is what you get for soaking me with water!” Bakugou exclaims, tossing you into the ice-cold water, your shocked and defeated scream echoing across the water until it was drowned out by you going under.

“You’re a dick!” you scream when you reemerge from under the water, fake tears pouring from your eyes, the cold water clinging, and stabbing into your body that was now exposed to the sweet air.

Bakugou looks ashamed right away, and you were sure that he hadn’t expected to have flung you so far into the water, or for you to not land on your feet. “Shit, I’m so — hEY!!!”

With your hands on his wrist, you threw him into the water, his angry screams erupting across the land the moment he reemerged from the lake. So there the two of you stood, thigh-deep into the lake, both soaked to the bone. Hands gripping each other, a feeble attempt at wrestling each other. His wet hair was slick to his forehead, the shine on his face from the water, and his heated words only inciting a fire within you that made you forget that you too were cold.

“You’re the worst!” you yell, trying to shove him forward with your interlaced fingers. “A tiny dildo is what you are!”

“A fucking dildo?! Why the ever-loving fuck would I be—?!”

“Cuz, you’re fake like plastic!!!”

“You’re an idiot, fucking dumbass nerd!”

“Oh yeah, well, you like this dumbass nerd!”

“And what if I do?!”

There was a silence that overcame the both of you, his cheeks simmering to the same degree as yours. In this silence, you weren’t sure what to say, and in a moment where you were unsure of the warmth being from your elation of his words or from your cold body hyperventilating from the cold water, you spoke.

“Do something about it then.”

There was no saying as to how this transpired, honestly it was one of the weakest fake arguments you’ve ever had with Bakugou, but with the rebirth of spring, there must have been something in the air to make his lips come crashing against yours. A wild and powerful force that ignited sparks and explosions within you, and a promise for more between both of you.

You pulled away, your eyes wide and wild, you took in Bakugou’s soft and heavy-lidded eyes and watched as his lips perked into a pleasant smile.

“Took you long enough, dumbass…”

“HOW IS THIS MY FAULT, BAKUGOU KATSUKI?!”

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ACCIDENTAL KISS

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The world was blurry while you brought your hand to your mouth. But where you had been expecting a bottle of whatever alcohol you had been drinking, you were met with nothing but your warm hand.

“Where’s my drink?! Oh no, did I drop… did I drop it?! Bakugou is going to kill me!”

Your typical cheerful and chaotic energy while being drunk had become sad and chaotic energy at the realization that you couldn’t find your drink that you knew you had. And even more so at the thought of the man you had a crush on hating on you for dropping it on the floor.

“What the hell are you wailing about, I have your drink right here, idiot.”

You whip to the side and see that Bakugou is the person holding your hand, guiding you back to your apartment.

“Katsuki, you’re taking me back to my dorm?” you sniffle, tears springing into your eyes at the thought of how kind your crush was being to you. “You didn’t have to do this!”

“Yeah, well, your drunk ass was not walking back home alone, especially not this late at night when weirdos and perverts can be out,” he justified, making sure you avoided the bush when you stumbled against a bump on the floor.

“I’m drunk, huh,” you giggle, pressing into his side, your body warm with the bitter liquid coursing through your veins. “That’s pretty crazy because I distinctly remember only taking… one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nineeeeeee shots! That’s not even that much!”

“Nine shots?! I’m going to kill that drunk idiot when I get back!” Bakugou snarls his arm fastening around your waist when you climb up the stairs, something you don’t understand why he does considering, all in all, you were walking just fine.

“Katsuki, can I confess something to ya?” you hum against his warm shoulder, breathing in his caramel scent with a happy sigh.

“Not if you wouldn’t admit it when you’re sober.”

“Well, that’s no fun to drunken confession and besides!” you slur, slamming your hand against his chest. “I don’t ever make sense.”

“Well, that much is true,” Bakugou sighs, grabbing your keys and opening your apartment door. “Come on, get in.”

You comply without a fight, skipping into your apartment with a stretch.

“Now, now, you get back home and text me when you get back, no funny business young man!” you exclaim, thrusting a finger into his chest, your lips pulled into a serious pout.

“Ya fucking right dumbass, I’m getting your ass into bed before I leave,” Bakugou grunt turning you towards your bathroom to assist you in getting ready for bed.

Within the next thirty minutes, you nearly succeed in getting Bakugou to rip his hair from his scalp. From first refusing to pee unless he was holding your hand, then forbidding to brush your teeth until he hugged you first. Of course, then it was the fact that you walked out butt naked after claiming you didn’t care if he saw you naked, and that you hated the PJs he chose for you. And how he had to chase you around the apartment to get you into bed.

But finally, Bakugou squatted at the edge of your bed, his face close to yours while you took long blinks, sleep catching up to you quickly.

“Goodnight, pain in my ass,” Bakugou says to your nodding off form.

“Thank you for always taking care of me,” you whimper, your hand stretching out to touch his face, the world slowly spinning. “You might act like a bad boy, but it’s okay, I can handle it for moments like this.”

“I don’t know what you’re — mmph!”

Your lips were pressed against his, a kiss that tasted faintly of alcohol on his own lips and the mint of your toothpaste.

“I love you,” you whisper against his lips before pulling away, sleep consuming you before Bakugou could speak.

When you woke up the next morning, your body hangover-free, you were shocked and scared to see Bakugou sitting on your chair fast asleep. It wasn’t until he woke up did you genuinely feel fear crawl and bite you in the throat when he spoke up after staring at you for a minute straight.

“So, about last night.”

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FAKE DATING

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“I can’t believe I got stuck with you,” Bakugou grits while the both of you walk around the mall, your fingers dancing along your chin while you check out the clothes in the window.

“Why’s that? Is it because I make your hands sweat, heart skip beats, and make you stammer more than anyone else in the world?” you tease your focus entirely on the outfit in the window, trying to imagine how it would look like on your body instead of the mannequin.

“You know damn well that’s not the fucking case!”

Laughing, you nodded, turning to look at Bakugou with a grin, “Well, I’m sorry you drew the short end of the stick!”

What had started off as a class after school field trip had become ‘where the fuck is everyone?’

It maybe was your fault for dragging Bakugou into the nearest store because you saw the stupidest skull shirt you wanted him to buy and ended up with the two of you coming out of said store, the black skull shirt folded neatly in a bag that Bakugou held, and your classmates were gone. Bakugou had yelled at you for five minutes while you apologized profusely for separating the two of you from the group.

A quick text from Kirishima had stated that everyone went their own ways anyway, but that meet up time at the food court would be at 5:30.

“How do you think that would look on me?” you asked, pointing to the white spring outfit in the window. You had needed more outfits, years of not having anything cute had made you want to try something new with the new spring season.

“Fucking weird,” was Bakugou’s automatic response despite not looking at the outfit.

“Come on, brat, look at it first!”

“Who the hell are you calling brat?” Bakugou grumbled but looked at the white outfit in the window. He was quiet for some time, almost too quiet for how you knew Bakugou was. He looked over at you, his face set seriously, and he sighed. “It would look great on you.”

You smiled widely and nodded, “Okay!”

It took ten minutes for you to find the outfit in your size, to affirm it was a good fit, to buy it, and then to leave the store. Bakugou took the green cream bag from your hand, adding it to the other bags he had been holding for the two of you, and you were grateful.

Grabbing his elbow, you were ready to drag him off to a store he would like better, but you froze when you saw a familiar pair of eyes in the distance.

It was your ex-boyfriend.

It had been a year relationship that started off beautifully and ended disastrously. While you wished you could have concluded that relationship on amicable terms, it ended on something closer to, “I hate you,” and “don’t ever talk to me again,” and “I can find someone better than you any day,” and finally, “you couldn’t find someone to like you back.”

To say the least, you still hadn’t found anyone knew, and your arm firmly locked around Bakugou’s arm, your body stiffening slightly.

Bakugou felt it.

“What the fucks wrong with you?” he asked, his eyebrows knit in confusion, and you looked up at him, your eyes relaying to him everything.

“I see my ex, and I said I would be with someone the next time I saw him,” you whisper, your feet feeling cemented onto the floor as your ex drew nearer and nearer.

Bakugou’s lips twitched, his nose scrunching in his premeditative way of know just what you were going to ask.

“You fucking owe me,” he hissed under his breath, his hand moving to rest on your hip, keeping you close as only lovers do.

“Thank you,” you whispered in graciousness, your lips pecking his cheek in a display of affection.

“Y/n!” your ex called, and you look at him, he was standing in front of you, a confident smile on his face. “Long time no see, how have you been?”

“Good,” you answer with a tight smile. “You?”

“Much better now, but I gotta say I do miss you a lot.”

Your face wrinkles in astounded horror, the slightest bit of disgust and disbelief while he seems to ignore Bakugou all together.

“Listen, I know I said a lot of shitty things to you awhile back, but I’m so sorry!” he says, his face nor tone showing regret. “I know you’re not seeing anyone right now, so if you want to have an amazing boyfriend again, I’ll consider taking you back!”

“Fucking horse mouth,” Bakugou snapped, his teeth gritting together while he glared at your ex, his finger digging into your side. “Who the fuck do you think I am?”

“Hm?” he alliterated, his eyes lazily falling onto Bakugou, “Oh, sorry! I didn’t see you there!”

“Yeah, and fucking back off before I shove my fist down your throat, asshole,” Bakugou threatened, his eyes squinting, his shoulders stiff.

“And why should I?” he asked, his lips pulled into a taunt. “Even if you’re dating, y/n-chan, it’s not like you’re any better than me, right Bakugou Katsuki? Y/n is grown, and I’m obviously the more mature one of…” he trailed off.

Why exactly?

Well, it seemed both you and Bakugou had the same exact idea. Your fingers thread through the thick hair at the nape of his neck. His fingers slipping under your shirt to rest against your warm back and your lips meeting in a passionate affair. His lips were tantalizing against yours, viciously warm, effortlessly smooth while your mouths moved in synch. Fireworks exploded behind your eyelids, electricity emitting through your joined lips while they moved impassioned for each other.

His hold was tight, and your head tilted with your tongue, obviously coming to sweep at his bottom tongue.

“Do you have any shame?!” a voice broke from your left, and you saw an elder staring at the two of you with obvious shock at the intense PDA the two of you had just shared.

You couldn’t even find the words to apologize, your mind utterly consumed with the need to have Bakugou’s mouth pressed against yours once again. The both of you were blissfully unaware of the fact that your ex had since scurried away the moment the kissing took a sensual turn.

“Um,” Bakugou seemed to be at a loss too, and you studied his face that seemed to be going through a million more emotions than he was used to. “Was that—?”

“If you want,” you tease, bringing your lips once more to the corner of his mouth before grabbing his hand and pulling him away.

#bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou fluff #bnha #bnha x reader #bnha spring time

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udon-udon · 3 years

Text

So for the past few years I’m not really in any community or anything so I’m just really out of the loop and kinda just floating around which can feel a lil lonely cause it feels like I don’t belong anywhere or anything, and if feels really empty cause I’m not passionate about anything with people I know. I’ve made quite a bit more artists friends the past few years as well but it never went anywhere beyond that first few interactions in the group chat/I only interacted in a group chat (that are now all dead) I feel like I’m not acknowledged by other artists around me and/or I’m not good enough. I don’t draw a lot of fan art either so that plays a huge factor in getting noticed or joining a community :/ i also feel like because of this, ive been becoming/feeling more distant with existing art friends and haha seeing them become better friends with others makes me think that I’m getting abandoned :’) or this irrational fear that they hate me because of something i said or did that i didn’t know hurt them or something. I feel like I’ve also closed myself off more and more because of this, u know where you distant yourself so you don’t get hurt when they do leave thanks abandonment issues and then in the end I end up all alone, which I’ve come to brainwash myself saying “I’ll be fine alone, I’ll get used to it” but even if I do, I can’t help but feel envious when I see artists friends on Twitter tagging each other in art memes, replying to their art posts, etc etc. I get over it in the end cause I know that in the end it’s really all my fault for not trying to become close to other artists. You can argue and say “but udon, just get into a fandom then and start there” but I just can’t, It’s hard for me to get obsessed over things/get into things compared to when I was younger. Nothing strikes an interest in me anymore and even if it does, it’s not too deep or deep enough where I’d want to draw fan art (no:ze being an exception cause I’ve been really obsessed with her lately, but she’s not art/anime related). I started playing genshin but I already grew bored of it kinda after a week. I mean I’d still go on and do commissions even though I’m barely into the Liyue story line so I actually have a ton of content, but I’m simply not…. too interested. Also school needs me to worry about assignments so I gotta prioritize (which I still fail at) but god that goes to show how short my attention span is for liking things nowadays it’s kinda sad. Speaking of school, there’s just so many things to think about on top of these sadass feelings, it’s a lot. It leaves me no time to draw much lately, and I only manage to draw if I decide to prioritize art over school work, which makes me more stressed in the end cause I’ll have no time to work on them. I think I was able to distract myself from these feelings during the summer cause I kept myself preoccupied with making my VN, so I focused all my energy there cause I love making my VNs, forgetting all about my Sadness and Not Belonging-ness, but now that I’m done making it, I have more time to not be happy/not be able to do things I like. Also all this is probably my pre-period PMS talking as we all know, but I can’t deny that Ive still been feeling like this for the past few years. All I ever wanted was a close knit art friend group that I’m able to have fun with and chill with, and be acknowledged, and loved and wanted. I’ve had a few groups before, but they always end up becoming a ghost town or two of them getting into a fight and end up splitting up. Anyway, that is all I wanted to dump here to get it out. I know it’s still a problem that ultimately it’s up to me to fix for myself but idk when I’ll be able to fix it. Can’t it just miraculously happen one day pls. Notice me senpais (even on a serious post I still end up joking at the end to brush it off and not make things too depressed sounding which undoubtedly that is what I am. Which I’ve come to terms with and accepted that even though there are people out there doing a lot more worse than I am, my own depression isn’t something I should invalidate. But it’s still a work in progress. I need to start looking for a therapist highkey.

TLDR:

- udon feels like she doesn’t belong anywhere in the art community -she can’t get interested in things like fandoms anymore -shes distancing herself with her existing art friends cause she feels like they’re leaving her and basically just wants something she doesn’t have aka a tight knit artist friend group that won’t become a ghost town. -udon just wants to be noticed by other artists. -Udon can’t make long term close art friends. -Udon acknowledges her depression

#personal #I don’t think I’ve ever written this much about my feelings #I tend to keep everything bottled up #I don’t like talking about my feelings it makes me sad #thank you for listening to my Ted talk #I have other non-art related friend groups and I don’t mean to throw them to the side either cause I love them all #this post is talking about art friend groups specifically in the art community

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northcarolinanative · 4 years

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𝐈'𝐦 𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐅𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐘𝐞𝐭

Requested by anon from this prompt list: hi, can you do the kissing prompt #14 with JJ pls? Thanks!!

#14- A kiss so desperate that the two wind around each other, refusing to let go until they are finished.

A/N: I know that these are pretty short, but I am having A LOT of fun writing them:) Thank you to everyone that requested, I am doing them in the order that I get them. Writing helps me so much when I’m going through stuff, so your requests are keeping me inspired to keep going and helping me keep my mind busy these last few days. Your support truly means the world to me. As always my Asks/Requests/Messages are open so feel free to talk to me:) Enjoy and let me know what you think of this one:)

TW: Assault/Violence, Rafe being a dick per usual.

“Come on now Rafe, I really don’t think that you wanna do that.” JJ taunted him. He had cornered JJ, Pope, and I in the back of the country club on a delivery run. “It’s three against one, doesn’t look too good for you, or has all that coke has gone to your head?” JJ said just as a group of boys fall in behind Rafe, all wearing the same stomach turning smirks.

Rafe wasted no time before lunging at JJ, causing Pope and me to make our way to the two trying to pull them apart. “JJ!” I called but was quickly pulled back and pushed into a wall. My head hit it with enough force to make it bounce back. I blinked my eyes a few times, before turning around to focus on the person in front of me. I was met with an arm, pressing itself across my chest, keeping me against the wall. “Stay outta this Y/N. Leave it to the men to fight it out, Alright?” I focused on seeing Topper’s oddly perfect hair standing in the way of my view of what was happening. The throbbing on the side of my forehead made me blink away tears. I was not about to show Topper any sign of weakness.

“Explains why you’re over here with me and not out there with the men,” I comment through gritted teeth. He retaliated by pushing harder into my chest with his arm and bringing a knee up to my stomach. I let out a groan, apparently audible enough for the boys to hear.

“Get off of her!” JJ called, only to be pulled back by Rafe. I flinched when JJ landed a perfect punch across his jaw, making Rafe stumble back into one of his buddies. Pope managed to push one into a table, causing him to fall to the floor as well. He was quick to aid JJ in pulling topper off of me. JJ straddled Topper the moment he got him to the ground. I felt frozen in my place as JJ landed punch after punch into Topper’s upper body, not leaving him a second to fight back. “Don’t. Touch. Her. Again.” JJ spoke sternly in between blows to Topper’s face and body. Pope had been trying to pull him off, and Rafe told him to lay off a bit.

Pope looked at me with worry as he tried to get JJ off of Topper. “Y/N please do something!’ He asked, pulling me from thoughts immediately.

I rushed over to JJ’s side holding his right arm before he could deliver another punch to the boy coughing below him. I took one look at JJ’s face and felt sick. The bruises were beginning to form in red splotches and blood, of him, and no doubt the other boys, splattered across his hands and his face. He looked at me as I ushered him to stand up. “Look we gotta get outta here alright?” I spoke calming, even though my entire body was shaking. The moment I looked into his blue eyes I felt like I could see that he was a few moments from shattering completely. I took his wrist in my hand, following Pope out the back door to the dock where we were supposed to meet with John B and Kie.

I felt like I was practically dragging JJ down to the dock. Pope was first to hop on the boat as I looked around only to see that the other two had yet to return from their delivery. I stopped leaning against the boat to look over JJ. I carefully placed my hand on the side of his face, making him look at me. At first, he held his head, resisting, trying to keep looking from me. “JJ let me see, are you hurt?” He looked at me.

His eyes went wide as he looked over my face and grabbed either side of my head. Looking down at me. “Am I hurt?” He scoffed. “ Y/N what happened to your head?” His voice was shaky, as he looked down into my eyes. I lifted my hand to the spot that his eyes seemed to be searing a hole into. I winced as I touched it, stinging as I made contact. I pulled my hand down, seeing my fingers painted with a small amount of blood.

“Nothing JJ, it’s just a little blood, I’ll be alright,” I said reassuring him. I wiped a bit of blood from under his mouth, holding my thumb to show him. “You’ve got some too.”

“No, I’m not kidding Y/N you could have a concussion.” He said, letting his eyes search the rest of my body for signs of harm. I let mine do the same, except that JJ’s face took the majority of the hits. His eye slowly swelling to a bigger size, and his lip was split and still bleeding.

I felt a shiver down my spine as JJ’s hand wrapped around my shoulder, letting his thumb rub across the reddening skin of my collarbone, caused by Topper’s arm and harsh pushes. JJ’s eyebrows knitted together, as worry covered his face.

“I’m not kidding either. No offense but you look terrible.” I spoke, causing JJ to let out a faint laugh before rolling his eyes. “Where else are you hurt?”

“I’m fine. I’m just glad that I was able to give it to Topper for hurting you.” He sighed.

“Hey, I can take care of myself,” I said, nudging him a little, trying to get him to smile again, but was unsuccessful as he kept his eyes trained on the ground.

“Looked like it.” He scoffed, before finally meeting my eyes. His were lined with red and slightly bloodshot, making the deep blue stand out even more, completely captivating me.

“Thank you, for defending me,” I said, speaking softly as the moment became more intimate. The feeling of the rest of the world, the hum of Pope’s boat, the loud music of the country club's deck, the lapping of waves against the boat, all being drowned out by the moment. It felt like it was just JJ and I standing in a vast nothing. I watched as JJ licked his still blood-stained lips before moving back to his eyes. The motion did not go unnoticed by JJ.

JJ moved so that I was between his body and the boat, capturing my lips with his in a soft yet passionate kiss. One of his hands resting under my shirt, right on the waistband of my hip, the other cupping the side of my face. Taken aback by his abrupt movement I allowed myself to savor the moment. I melted into his touch, moving my lips at the feverish pace against his. My body felt like it was on fire when it met with him. I moved my hands to his hair trying to pull him as close to me as I could. He tasted like mint, I assumed from the vape that he always had hidden in his pocket and the sour taste of blood from his split lip. Kissing JJ was something that I could get addicted to.

There was a cough from the other edge of the dock, but JJ wasn’t going to let me go anytime soon. “Get a room” I heard John B jok. JJ smiled into the kiss causing me to do the same.

“I’m not finished yet.” He mumbled holding up his middle finger in the direction of our friends before placing it on the back of my head, causing me to giggle but continued to kiss him.

“When did that happen?” I heard Kie’s voice, but it seemed impossibly distant from where I was standing. JJ pulled me back into the moment as he moved his hand from my hip to the small of my back. Trying to pull me closer, but having no room between us too.

“Hey this is cute and all but we have somewhere to be?” Pope called from the front of the boat, causing me and JJ to break apart. I didn’t have to look at Pope to see the awkwardness of his form as he looked over at us.

JJ rested his forehead against mine. “I’ve wanted to do that for ages.” He smiled back at me. “Maybe I should get in fights for you more often?” He joked.

“My knight in shining armor.” I joked and rolled my eyes, before we both hopped into the boat, blushing at the glances and smiles from our group of friends.

Check out my other work?

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maxineswritingcenter · 3 years

Text

Bray Road - Fox Mulder x non binary!reader part 6

Fic Drop 2021

Mulder just finished speaking with the Sheriff when he spotted his partner. (Y/N) looked so tired. They were holding their head in their hands and had been like that ever since the boys in blue zipped up the body bags for Jason, his mother, and the other patient that had been attacked. He walked to them slowly and placed a hand on their shoulder.

“You alright?” He asked. (Y/N) took a deep breath and looked up.

“I don’t know. I know everything that happened was real, but it feels...I never thought that I would experience that again.” They shrugged, “On the bright side, the cops believed my story this time.”

Mulder smiled a little and nodded towards the car, “C’mon, let’s head back to the motel.” They stood and the two began walking towards the rental car.

“What about Winterfield?”

“Cops are going to search the office now to find evidence of the albuterol and anything related to the DEA. The courthouse is going to have a search warrant by the morning.”

“Mulder.” They said as Mulder started opening his door, “The full moon is tomorrow.”

He paused for a moment and looked up in the dark sky and saw the moon was almost full. He looked back at his partner, “We’ll get him. I promise.”

The next morning, both agents made their way to the pediatrician’s office where there was already a search in place. They met with the sheriff as he was walking out.

“Agents,” He greeted them, “We found some research regarding the albuterol in a safe in the crawl space.” He handed some of the paper work to (Y/N). They looked them over.

“It’s like the scrawling of a mad man.” The sheriff said, "Talking about rituals and turning the weak into warriors. As far as we know, there are two other kids in the reports. Both of which were killed in the last attack. According to their parents, they only used their inhalers for emergencies or not at all.”

“So the DEA was never able to take hold in their systems.” Mulder concluded, "That also means that Winterfield was trying to make more of him."

"That seems to be the case," The sheriff looked back at (Y/N), who was still reading, their face paler than before. The writings from when they were a child were disturbing, describing their body in great detail and how they were perfect to create the master race of lycanthropes.

"We suspect that he's in hiding, but we believe that he's going to come back for you, Agent (Y/L/N)." They looked up at the sheriff's words.

"What?" Their heart dropped.

"We would like to place you under house arrest at your motel until we can apprehend Winterfield. You will be with the best big game hunter in the area, as well as two deputies." The sheriff motioned to the large camo wrapped pickup truck in the other end of the parking lot.

"I-...Right. of course." (Y/N) looked down at the ground. Their fingers gripping the paperwork.

Mulder took notice to their hesitation, "Sheriff, can you give us a minute?" The sheriff nodded and went to speak with the hunter in the truck.

"(Y/L/N), what is it?"

They finally looked up from the papers to Mulder. He seemed genuinely concerned about them. There was a calming sense about him that made them want to relax, but, in this situation, it was nearly impossible.

"I understand why I need to be under lock and key, I do. But I don't feel right about not going after him too." They felt tears burn at their eyes. They were so emotionally exhausted after years of fear just culminating to this moment and they wouldn't get the resolve they wanted.

"Is this about your parents?" He asked.

They glanced at this eyes again, then stared back at his tie, "Partially."

"Aw, you're not worried about me, are ya?" He chuckled.

They met his eyes again, so green and full of determination. It's what (Y/N) liked about him. Fox Mulder may have been known around the bureau as Spooky Mulder, but no one saw the passion. All they saw were the Xfiles. And (Y/N) thought Mulder liked to keep it that way. He had been ridiculed his entire career. But he believed the weird, he believed the strange.

"Skinner didn't assign you as my partner," They blurted out without thinking much. But the fuel was already in the fire, they had to elaborate, "I made up the case file. I kept it secret from my friends at the office because I didn't want them to treat me like I was a joke. I took the case to Skinner and asked to be your partner. I knew you would take it seriously. I knew you would believe me." (Y/N) placed a hand on his arm and smiled weakly, "Please be careful. I don't want to lose anyone else." Before Mulder could speak, he watched (Y/L/N) make their way to the camo truck to speak with the big game hunter and the sheriff.

At the motel, they had been given a box of evidence from Winterfield's home to look through. The big game hunter, Rodger, was in the corner of the room facing the door, cleaning the silver bullets he had been given to him from the local jeweler in town. He was an interesting looking guy, the was tall and lean. But his hair was styled so one side of his head was shaved to the skin, 3 long pink scars ran from his crown to his temple.

He noticed their staring and nodded, "Bear."

"Excuse me?"

He pointed to the scars, "Grizzly in Alberta. Probably stood about twelve feet tall. Smacked me right here but I put three slugs between it's eyes. So I can handle your werewolf just fine." He loaded to shells into his shotgun.

"Bears act on instinct. When they feel their family or their territory is threatened they attack. This werewolf thinks just as well as he does as a human." They looked out the window and saw the sun lower in the sky, making their stomach feel like there was a sack of rocks pulling them down.

"You have nothing to worry about, uh...what are your uhh..."

"It's Agent."

The search in the woods around Winterfield's house wasn't showing any sign that he had been there recently. But what they did find was a body. In the basement of his home they found a decaying body shackled to the wall, almost mummified. But the anatomy was inhuman.

Mulder looked was looking over a map of the area that they had already searched, needing to use a flashlight now that darkness was setting in. He looked up when he saw the coroner, Dr. Sherman, making her way towards him and taking her gloves off.

"I've seen a lot of weird things, but nothing as crazy as that." She said.

"How so?"

"Well, when the guy died his bones had grown so much that they were splintering. His teeth were so large they cracked his jawbone. He died in a lot of pain." She said.

"Any similarities to the Mulligan boy?" The sheriff, who had walked up behind Mulder asked.

"Sort of. There were signs of the splintering and the cracks in the jaw but they had healed almost instantaneously. But I'm sure when the lab comes back with the results, they'll show DEA like you said, agent Mulder."

"Any luck?" He turned back to the sheriff.

"None. The dogs can't pick up a damn thing. And the tracks we saw lead off into the woods disappeared about a mile in."

Before Mulder could speak, his mobile phone started going off in his pocket.

"Excuse me," He said, stepping away from the group and standing by his car before answering, "Mulder."

"So we found some info on Winterfield." Frohike began, "Or lack of info."

"I couldn't find any family history on him. That is, until I found these articles from the sixties." Byers said, "His name was Lyle Montgomery. And when he was fourteen he went missing for a month in northern Michigan and when he was found, he was covered in blood but completely unharmed."

"There's another news article a month later from the same area saying that an entire family but one was mauled by a bear. The survivor was relocated, but we can't tell where because the adoption was closed." Langley chimed in, "But it was around the same time that we found the yearbook for Elkhorn high school showing their star quarterback."

"Winterfield." Mulder answered, "Thanks guys."

"You got it, Gunmen out." Frohike signed off and the line went dead.

As Mulder walked back to the group his phone rang again, he answered, "Mulder."

"Hey Fox, I think that uh we're not gonna find this guy. He outsmarted us." (Y/L/N) said.

"When did we start on a first name basis, (Y/N)? And it's not over, we're gonna find him." He said, his eyebrows knitted together in confusion at his partner's use of his first name. Not even Scully called him by his first name.

"No, I think I'm just gonna go home ."

"We can't go now. What happened to you wanting to finally end this? To move on from all this?" He was closer to the sheriff and the coroner now, who gave him confused looks as well.

"Fox, I need to go back home." They said again, more sternly this time.

Suddenly, his eyes widened, "(Y/L/N), is he there?"

"Yeah, I just need to hurry up and get home." There voice shook then, "I've decided to leave the bureau and just go home." They took a deep breath, sounding a little choked up.

"Goodbye, Fox." The line went dead.

"We need to get to the motel right now, he's got (Y/L/N)." Mulder had barely gotten the phone back in his pocket before running with the sheriff to his truck and leading the department towards the motel.

(Y/N) hung up the phone, a shaky hand setting it back down on the receiver. They avoided looking in the corner of the room where the majority of Rodger was still in the corner. They looked back at Winterfield. His hands were larger than usual and covered in dark hair. His eyes glowed red. He was spattered in blood from the deputies that he been outside and the big game hunter.

"You know he doesn't believe me." They said.

"Oh I know." There was a gravel to his voice that made it sound more animal, "But he's gotta write something when the FBI starts asking where you are." He grabbed their arm with his massive hand and began dragging them out of the room through the broken doorway.

"Wait!" They shouted, "Let me grab my bag. It'll be more believable for the crime scene photos."

"Fine," Winterfield let go, "Hurry up." He seemed on edge, turning his head from side to side as if he could hear something coming. They went to the side of the bed where their bag laid, there was blood from the hunter on it. Out of the corner of their eye, they saw the silver bullets.

Winterfield began angry, "Come on!" He grabbed them by the back of their neck.

"My bag!"

"Screw the bag!" He growled, pulling them outside. In the distance, they both saw the red and blue lights flashing and the sirens screaming the distance.

The cars screeched to a stop, the entire sheriff's department pointing their guns. Mulder called to the others, "Don't shoot, he's got a hostage!"

Then Winterfield seemed to shift before his very eyes, growing a long snout and large animal like arms and legs, all covered in thick dark hair. Still standing on his hind legs, he grabbed (Y/N) by their middle and took off into the woods near the motel.

"MULDER!" They called back, their voice fading into the darkness.

"(Y/L/N)!" He called back, leading the department and the canine unit into the woods after Winterfield.

"Mulder!" Their voice was farther away now.

"(Y/L/N)!" He stopped when he no longer saw tracks, looking around for any signs, "(Y/L/N)!"

------------------------------------------------------------------

Likes, Comments, and Reblogs are appreciated!

Read part 7 here!

Taglist List:

- @theres-a-dog-outside-omg

- @bi-andready-tocry

- @nyotamalfoy

#Fox Mulder #fox mulder x reader #xfiles fic #xfiles imagine

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some-cookie-crumbz · 3 years

Note

BNHA, MomoJirou?

Prompts 25. "I know this looks bad, but I swear, it's not."

So many ways this could go~! Hopefully the route I took was a fun one!

Minor Trigger Warning: Mentions of Blood

Momo considered herself to be a rather fortunate woman. She had a financially successful family, a great relationship with her father and was working on things with her mother, a close-knit group of friends she loved dearly, and had started a paid internship just a few weeks back for a designing agency run by The Kayama Nemuri. She knew that she was an incredibly lucky person, that there were those who would kill for the opportunities she had been given, and made sure to wear her gratitude on her sleeve to everyone she knew. She put all her effort and energy into being a good daughter, a good friend, and a good employee, doing whatever she could through action to help emphasize the depth and sincerity of her gratitude. After all, actions were a great indicator of the merit of one's words!

But sadly… Her love life hadn’t seen nearly as many returns as the rest of her life had.

She’d had three relationships in the past and they’d all been… lackluster, to put it mildly. Her first relationship had been a situation where she agreed to date the guy more out of obligation than anything. He had been incredibly nice to her and her then-friends had insisted that meant she at least owed him a chance to prove himself as a boyfriend. The relationship had only lasted three months of her first year of high school and ended so horribly that her father had transferred her to a new school at the conclusion of her first semester.

The school she transferred to was a girls-only boarding school and where she grew into her sexual identity as a pansexual woman. She had a longer relationship with one of her classmates that started in the winter of her second year and ended in the spring of their third year, with her ex immediately jumping to date another of their peers within a week of the break up. It had been painful to watch and, for about a year after, she had avoided relationships for a while.

Her relationship after that had been even worse. She didn’t like to dwell on that ex too much simply because… Well, how incredibly awful it had been. The relationship had felt much more like the two of them getting together because they were afraid of being single in their group of friends. The two of them had nearly no common interests and her ex had always seemed to find her passion for fashion design to be a waste of time, frequently inquiring why she didn’t study something more “practical”. Momo herself, however, thought that her degree plan had been more than practical, considering her minor had been in business.

That relationship lasted ten months and ended when she learned of an affair.

She’d taken a two year break from dating after that, focusing instead on her friend and family and school. All of her friends had rallied around her after that break up, helping to lift her back up, and she had been incredibly grateful for it. They reminded her to never settle for less than she was worth, to wait until someone who deserved her commitment came around.

And then, one day, she met Jirou Kyouka.

Their first meeting had been an impromptu sort of thing. Momo’s dear friend Mina had to take her new puppy, Floofles, to the vet for vaccines and spaying. It was an overnight situation with a designated pick-up time, but Mina had to be at work during the time. She has begged Momo if, since she was free that day, she could pick Floofles up and monitor her until she herself was home. And not one to let a friend in need down, Momo had agreed.

In the lobby of the little vet clinic had sat a young woman in dark colors, with short cut indigo hair, and a snarling mass of hay colored fur in her lap. Momo had been a few minutes early and was urged to take a seat while she waited, causing her to settle into the vacancy next to the stranger and her displeased pet. Upon closer examination she realized that it was a cat, with a front paw that looked to be at an odd angle, which seemed to explain the attitude. “Oh, the poor little dear,” she murmured quietly, not thinking as the words left her mouth.

Dark eyes flickered up to her, the gleam of disinterest fading to a light of interest. Her lips twitched up in a small smile. “Thank you, but he did this to himself,” she hummed, reaching out to set one hand on the cat’s head. He responded by growling audibly and jerking his head out from under her touch. “Leave the patio door open unsupervised for one minute, and he leaps out to chase a bird. Eats shit and ends up hurting his paw.”

The cat let out a displeased hiss at his dirty laundry being aired, but it only resulted in both women laughing. The next few minutes waiting for Floofles had passed in the blink of an eye as she chatted up the cat owner, learning that the cat was named Dynamight and was just a grumpy old man trapped in the body of a young cat. Once Floofles was brought out to her, Momo asked for the other’s number, explaining she wanted to see how Dynamight was doing once his paw got looked at. And while there was genuine care about the cat’s well being involved, there had also been a selfish motivation behind it, too. Her companion seemed to know as much but didn’t draw attention to it as they exchanged numbers.

That was eleven months ago, with she and Jirou’s nine month anniversary as an official couple just on the horizon. And Momo couldn’t help but smile whenever she thought about it. Jirou was unlike her past partners in so many ways. She encouraged and supported Momo’s designing works, they shared a secret love of true crime love documentaries, and she was incredibly laid back. With her, Momo could feel her walls fall down and she felt genuinely secure about it. There was something naturally calming about Jirou’s presence and approach to life - of going with the flow and taking things as they came - that was refreshing and exhilarating. So much of Momo’s own life had been slotted around by activity start and end times, of living up to expectations both real and imagined, that the idea of simply letting things be and dealing with them as they came up was incredibly freeing.

The thought occurred to her as she stepped out of the elevator at Jirou’s apartment complex and started to make her way to her door. Normally, she made sure to reach out before dropping by. Part of it was because she didn’t like just showing up unannounced, but another reason was because of her girlfriend’s erratic work schedule. The other woman did freelance work of some kind - the details were vague and confidential - so her hours tended to shift depending on the needs of her client. Sometimes, she’d be free for a good three or four days, while other times she’d be engrossed in her projects for hours at a time. Things had been pretty quiet from what little she remembered last time they talked about work, though, so she felt things would be fine this one time.

She opened the door to the front door, unsurprised to find it unlocked. Jirou tended to leave the door unlocked in case her neighbor, a bedraggled single father, ever needed to ask for an impromptu baby-sitter. His daughter liked cats and Dynamight, as Momo herself had seen, was surprisingly agreeable with the young girl when she came by. She half expected to see young Eri settled on the couch, a Disney movie playing on the television, while Jirou prepared dinner or worked on something for a client, when she stepped in.

Only to stop just a few steps through the threshold.

A map of the city was spread across the coffee table, two large pillar candles set up at the far corners of the table, while Jirou was kneeling in front of it. She was cutting open what seemed to be a small blood donation bag with some scissors, a small wooden box to her left with what seemed to be crystals inside. After a moment, Jirou reached towards the box and pulled one out, a thin strand of yarn wrapped around the crystal. She released a slow breath. “Okay, Kyouka… This shouldn’t be too hard. You haven’t exactly used this combination before but it should work out fine,” she mumbled to herself, moving the crystal to dangle over the open lip of the bag.

Momo couldn’t help it; she gasped, loud and horrified. She was completely stunned. What was all of this? What purpose did it serve? It all seemed incredibly occult. Jirou had never seemed like the type to have such interests. Hearing her gasp, Jirou jerked to stare at her with a horrified stare of her own. She opened her mouth twice, clearly scrambling to find words to string together, before she clamped it shut with a soft click of her jaw.

They stared at one another for a long moment, eyes wide and their heart beats seeming to echo in the tiny space.

"I know this looks bad, but I swear, it's not!" Jirou yelped, finally cutting through the silence, dropping the blood bag in her hands and letting it hit the ground with a sickening splat sound. Momo felt her whole body shudder with the sound and her stomach flipped uneasily. She shifted her weight back on the heels of her feet while keeping her eyes fixated on Jirou.

“Tch! She’s gonna try and make a break for it if you don’t seal the door off, ya idiot!” For a moment, Momo was befuddled by the new voice she heard. She swore she could hear quiet, cat-like growls between their words, but… That wouldn’t make sense, right? Who does cat impressionations while speaking? Slowly she turned her head in the directions of the voice, her eyes landing on the familiar fluffy form of Dynamight sitting on the kitchen counter. His pupils shrunk to slimmer slits before he curled his lips back, the voice from before sneering, “Oh, looks like she’s starting to put shit together! Get your head back in the fucking game!”

Dynamight… Her cat… Was talking? But then… Talking cats were common of…

Momo whipped around and moved to rush for the apartment door, heart beating erratically in her chest. If this was all really happening, she needed to get out! Before a hex of some kind could be placed on her, or even worse! “Wait, Yaomomo! Please hear me out!” Jirou called out after her.

Just as her hands made to grab for the handle, it shriveled and withered into the door itself like a rotten fruit being reclaimed by its tree. A startled shriek left her as she scrambled backwards, watching with wide eyes as the rest of the door melted into the frame, the seam separating the two disappearing completely. She felt herself drop to her knees and wrap her arms tight around herself. “Oh God,” she breathed shakily, closing her eyes tightly as she heard soft footfalls approaching her. “I promise I won’t tell anyone about this! J-Just please! D-Don’t hu-hurt me! L-Let me go!”

There was a quiet swishing of wind and fabric before she felt herself being lifted slightly. Then, there was a soft and warm hand gently cupping her cheek. “I would never hurt you, Momo. Please… Even if you aren’t sure how to feel about the rest of this, please know that much is the truth,” The other woman’s voice hitched with pain as she spoke, clearly wounded by the suggestion. She peeked her eyes open to see she was floating just a few feet above the ground so that she was able to meet the other’s dark eyes. Those same eyes were pleading and vulnerable.

Momo swallowed thickly before timidly nodding her head. “I’m sorry,” she breathed softly.

“No, I understand. This… Isn’t what you were anticipating to walk into,” Jirou said with a small sigh before glancing over at the sacrificial site set up on her coffee table. “Just let me clean that up real fast, put on some tea and then I’ll explain.” Momo nodded with a bit more certainty before she was carefully floated over and set delicately on the couch.

She sat and watched in quiet bemusement as the other skittered to and fro, using what Momo could only assume was magic to help her. The longer she observed, the more relaxed she gradually became. While she worked at getting the blood cleaned up off the wood paneling, Dynamight actually rummaged through the kitchen cabinets to fish out the kettle and start filling it up. It was a little impressive to watch how he did it with his paws and teeth, though she could still hear the quiet grumbled swears he released as he did. Once all the summoning stuff and blood were cleaned up, Jirou prepared them each a cup of tea and settled into the couch seat a space away from Momo, giving her a good amount of breathing room.

She handed the cup over carefully with one hand. “I went with that citrus one you brought a while back. I remembered that one having a nice little zing to it,” she explained.

“Thank you,” Momo took a quick sip of her own cup, disregarding how it scalded her tongue just a smidge. “So… You’re a witch, I take it.” she said evenly.

Jirou nodded. “Yes, I am,”

“And Dynamight-!”

“Bakugo,”

“Huh?”

“His actual name is Bakugo Katsuki. Dynamight is just his… um.. Common cat name. Easier than explaining the logistics of a familiar,” she explained with a small nervous laugh.

“So he is your familiar,” she mused, taking another sip. The other nodded as she took a sip from her own cup as well, setting it on the coaster on the coffee table when she was done.

Jirou’s hands clutched at her knees, eyes skirting down to stare at them instead. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I’ve wanted to but… I was worried. There’s a lot of paperwork and hoops to jump through to get that kind of clearance. And even then… There’s no guarantee that you’d want to keep that knowledge. And if that happened, your memories would have to be wiped and I couldn’t see you anymore.”

Momo blinked in surprise. “Wait, what?”

“It’s a safety protocol that the higher ups implement to keep the general public safe, as well as those of us in the bureau,” she sighed, lifting her head to peek up at her worriedly. It was clear she was uneasy but was also being transparent. “Though, I suppose I should actually… Well, explain what’s going on here, huh?”

She nodded. “So… Is this related to your work?”

“Yes, actually. See, I’m aligned with what’s called the I.B.O.M.O., which is abbreviated further to I-Boom, and is short for International Bureau of Magical Events. As a representative, I have the ability to travel between this realm - the mortal plane - and the realm of magical creatures - the magical plane. As such, it is my responsibility to keep instances of magical creatures and mortal interactions limited. Part of that is tracking down rogue magicals that come into the mortal plane without the proper permissions and, if they encounter a mortal, wiping memories and issuing out punishments,” she explained, picking her cup back up and taking a sip.

“So what you were doing… Was that related to something like that?” Momo asked with a tilt of her head.

Jirou nodded. “Yes. I was trying to scry. My current assignment is to track down the heir of a noble warlock family who has apparently fled to this plane. He is apparently somewhere in this city but.. Well, since he hails from a high ranking family, his magical skills have been well-honed so trying to find him has been a struggle. I’d been hoping that by combining my scrying technique and a powerful conjuring technique using the bird blood I could… Well… Try to get some idea as to where he might be,” she sighed, letting her shoulders slump. “This is the longest I’ve ever taken on an assignment and it’s.. Well, it’s difficult.”

Momo stared at her before glancing back down at her cup. Her thumb traced along the rim of the cup thoughtfully, an idea turning about in her head. “Could… Could I help you find him?”

“Huh?”

“The fuck can a human like you do to help?” Dynamight - erh, Bakugo? - chimed in, hopping down from the breakfast nook and trotting over. He scrambled up and sat on the table, glaring her down with his ears back and fluffy tail lashing. “If a witch with as many accomplishments as Earlobes is having a hard time, what fucking chance does a mere human like you have?”

“Well, if you have an idea of around when he appeared, I can ask around,” Momo said, tone a little petulant. The sheer lunacy that she was arguing with a cat wasn’t lost on her completely - and she made note to ask Jirou later how, exactly, it was she could hear his voice - but she still felt the need to, as immature as it was. “I have a lot of connections around the city. I might be able to get you a list of suspects, since there is the chance he could do… Um… What is it called? Glamour?”

Jirou giggled a bit. “You’re right. Glamour is the tool magical creatures use to disguise their true forms,” She lightly tapped her chin in thought. “Hmm. That’s not a bad idea, actually. He could be using glamour to disguise his appearance since it’s so unique. Make himself harder to find.” Momo smiled at Jirou’s words, her heart fluttering a bit at the prospect of being about to help her girlfriend. “But… If you’re going to get involved, I’ll need to file the proper paperwork and make a protection charm for you. I want you to be safe. I don’t think the nobleman would harm you but… I don’t know the specifics of why he left the magical plan unannounced. I’d rather air on the side of caution.”

Momo nodded as she took another sip of her tea. A part of her told her she shouldn’t get this invested. It was Jirou’s work and she herself wasn’t a witch. She shouldn’t be getting involved too heavily. But… If she could help her girlfriend, wasn’t it worth it? If it gave her a chance to show how much she appreciated how good Jirou was to her, it had to be worth it.

#crumbles grumbles #MomoJirou #my fics #Gif is technically relevant #I'm p sure this is part of an AU prompt list #But there wasn't any specification on the other two categories #So I hope that it's okay I took this and just ran with it!

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