#i have not wanted to watch a new film this badly since IT chapter two came out FIVE years ago

[strangesickness]

i need to watch lisa frankenstein but i'm like FIFTH on the hold list at the library and if i can't get it this weekend i won't be able to pick it up for ANOTHER TWO WEEKS! and i'll miss my hold window and have to go back to like. tenth in the hold list.

#i think i might have posted about this already but i need you guys to know how devastated i am #i'm very close to buying a copy at the local dvd store which i never do for movies i haven't seen before before #but i need to watch this movie or i'll die #i have not wanted to watch a new film this badly since IT chapter two came out FIVE years ago #i'm so mad i didn't watch it in theatres but i'm so bad at paying attention to what movies are coming out #since 99% of what i watch came out before i was born lol #posts afflicted with a strange sickness

[avoxrising]

The Feral One • Ch 23

Finnick x Y/N

Series Masterlist Link

Ahhh so I actually love this part of the story. Prepare yourselves for a wild few chapters before the end. See y’all in the next chapter for the sewers ;)

Content Warnings - Injury, death, panic attack, games flashback

When you wake up, your group is stopped for lunch in a different location from where you slept. Finnick explains that he had to sedate you last night and you’ve been out all morning. The group moved a few blocks but didn’t film you at all because you were passed out. He makes sure you eat before the group gets moving again.

You excuse yourself to the washroom of the apartment you are in to freshen up. Your arm is also killing you and you want to take a look at it.

Removing your shirt, you gasp at the sight. The veins on your arm have started to turn black as they pulse with pain. Were you poisoned? Were you having a weird reaction to the sedative? Whatever it is, you don’t have time to dwell on it as you pull back on your shirt and move to follow the rest of the group outside.

“Hold up!” Boggs states, causing the group to stop. “We’ve got a pod. Take cover.”

The group splits up to hide between two pillars. The camera crew get the shot set up before Katniss is instructed to shoot an arrow through an arch up ahead.

The street quickly erupts in gunfire as the pod is triggered. You feel paralyzed by the noise, the pain in your arm intensifying.

You finally calm down when suddenly you hear a loud explosion. Turning, you see Boggs laying on the ground sans legs. Katniss and one of the other soldiers rush towards the scene and Katniss gets the holo from him. The other soldier triggers another pod and chaos erupts.

Black goo floods into the now locked courtyard you are in. You are urged to run towards a building but the ringing in your ears is too much.

You stumble your way forward, not moving quickly enough to keep up with the group.

“Come on Y/N!” one of the camera people shouts as she grabs onto your arm to pull you along.

With a loud growl, you lunge for her, tackling her to the pavement. You snap your teeth at her face, but someone else pulls you off and sticks a syringe into you before you could jump on anyone else else.

You wake up a few hours later in a new apartment. Your wrists are bound together in an effort to restrain you. Finnick is sitting close to you but everyone else has made sure to keep their distance.

“What happened?” you groggily ask him.

“You and Peeta both snapped,” he sighs. “He tried to throw Katniss into the goo and you tackled Cressida to the ground when she touched your arm.”

“I have to go back to 13,” you mumble. “It’s too dangerous for me here.”

“You’re ok,” Finnick assures you. “It was a high stress situation and you reacted badly to touch. Nobody here blames you and Cressida is fine.”

“No something’s wrong with me,” you tell him, panic in your voice. Knowing he needs to take you somewhere to calm down, Finnick tells the soldier on watch that he’s taking you to the bathroom and walks you to the other end of the apartment.

You gasp for air as your hands grip the linoleum counter tops.

“Breathe love,” Finnick instructs. “You’re ok.”

“No I’m not,” you gasp, terror in your eyes. “It’s happening. My arm…”

“Does your arm hurt?” Finnick asks and you nod your head yes. “Which one?”

“Right,” you say through gritted teeth, the pain making you want to scream.

“Can I take your shirt off to look at it?” he asks as he unbinds your wrists. You shake your head no.

“I’ll do it,” you mutter as you attempt to use your left arm to free your right from your shirt.

Finnick gasps at the sight of your arm, the black veins having intensified and spread since earlier in the day.

“What happened?” he asks, worriedly looking over your arm.

“I can’t escape the clock,” you mumble.

Finnick quickly steps out of the room and calls for someone named Jackson. He returns with the soldier you saw on watch when you woke up and she takes a look at your arm.

“Don’t touch me!” you growl as you flinch away from her approaching hand.

“I’ve never seen this,” she states to Finnick. “I’d radio for medical but our communications are still down. She’ll have to carry on with us till we can contact someone.”

“When did this happen?” Finnick asks you.

“It… it started with… the headache,” you manage to get out. The black veins were slowly beginning to spread up your shoulder towards your neck.

“So it wasn’t from the pods,” Jackson notes.

“Maybe we should ask Katniss,” Finnick suggests. “She’s good with medicine.”

“No,” you growl, pulling your sleeve back on over your arm. “I’m fine. Not a word of this to anyone or I rip your throat out.”

That night your dream is different. Travis, the boy from 11, sits in Wiress’ place on the beach. Black blood flows from the gash in his side, and his eyes are dead as he looks at you.

The 69th games had come down to just you two. The game makers had released mutts to push you both to the cornucopia for a final dual, and what would be the death of Travis.

You were exhausted but determined to return home. Anger flowed through his veins, while adrenaline flowed through yours. He swung his sickle at you over and over as you did your best to evade his attack. Your lone knife was lost, buried deep in the forest after he threw it.

He was bigger than you but unfocused. Despite the swelling in your face making it impossible to see out of your eye, you managed to grab his arm as he swung at you, the sharp blade inching closer to your head.

You didn’t hesitate. Your teeth sunk into his fingers as your hands pulled at the handle of his weapon. He screamed in pain as the extremities were severed, his blood coating your tongue.

Your foot connected with his stomach, successfully separating him from his weapon before plunging it into his side.

On the beach, black blood streams from the stubs on his hand as he finally speaks.

“Your time is up, feral one”

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#hunger games #finnick odair #hunger games fic #the hunger games #finnick odair x reader #finnick x reader #finnick odair angst #finnick angst #finnick #mockingjay #the feral one #avoxrising

[quite-right-too]

Dona Nobis Pacem (Grant Us Peace) - Chapter Five

Summary: After preparing for the arrival of her new housemates, the last thing Rose expected was for one of them to be the man whose flat she had snuck out of the night before. This was actually the second chapter I wrote for this and @demdifferentstories-29 did an amazing job of helping me edit my first real, official smut scene. I hope y'all enjoy!

Read here on AO3

In the following days, tension built to an almost unbearable amount — almost-kisses and heavier touches led James to believe that maybe his feelings were reciprocated. Rose would hold his hand whenever they were out and would nearly be on his lap when they were reading together in the library. There were quite a few times where he had to excuse himself and head up to his room for a wank.

Little did he know, Rose was also doing the same.

This time was no different. She thought about him a lot, especially since their first almost-kiss in the library. In the privacy of her room, she touched herself as she imagined all the filthy ways James would fuck her — his fingers, his tongue, his cock. Muffled moans of ‘James’ were quickly followed by her orgasm crashing over her. She composed herself, got cleaned up, and prepared for their movie night later in the evening. 

The light from the television was the only source illuminating the dark living room. A film whose title was unknown to James was playing, it being Rose’s turn to pick what to watch for movie night. Jack and Donna had gone out for a bit to enjoy the London nightlife, leaving the house empty except for the two of them. James didn’t mind, especially with them curled up on the couch next to each other, and although the shared blanket seemed to be giving him warmth, he was positive it was partially because a certain blonde was sitting next to him, focused on the progression of the movie.

They had taken to cuddling more during movie nights. He knew that he had fallen for her hard and truly savoured the moments of intimacy with Rose. Surely, she didn’t feel the same, though. This was just something that they did as mates.

Mentally cataloguing everything he could sense as she laid with him came naturally. Her fingers laced in his felt like the perfect fit. The scent of her shampoo was like strawberries and jasmine and Rose. The heat of her body pressed so close to his. He also noticed how aroused he was getting just by their proximity and silently hoped that the case was the same for her.

As the film continued, James quickly realised that it was turning into sex. Really hot, passionate sex — bringing out memories of the one night stand they had. Now all he could think about was her coming undone beneath him. He swallowed thickly and felt his jaw clench. His discomfort wasn't so much due to a scene like that in the movie, but because Rose was sitting there within touching distance and he couldn’t think of anything but how badly he wished that the man and woman on the screen were them.

“I wish I’d had something like that,” Rose muttered, breaking James out of his inappropriate and devilish thoughts. Golden honey eyes stayed transfixed to the screen as the scene became more sexual and intimate, soft touches and quiet declarations of love painted the picture of the relationship between the characters. 

“What do you mean?” James questioned, his eyebrows furrowing. He knew she had been with a boyfriend in the past, but not much about the details aside from his name. Jimmy. Even thinking about him made him feel nauseous.

She sighed, pulling her head away from James’ shoulder. “Just, y’know…” Trailing off, Rose tried again upon seeing the confusion and concern on his face. “Having a guy who actually cares. Who wants to have sex because he wants me, not just to get off.” The words came out bitter on her tongue, however none were directed at James. It seemed like he knew it, too.

Head cocked in curiosity, he continued pressing. “What would you have done if you’d had a man who wasn’t just some sleazy bastard with a guitar?” The question was entirely innocent in his eyes, simply probing for more information on this mysterious ex-boyfriend of hers. 

Not for any particular reason, obviously.

Rose’s face was suddenly coloured red with blush, the question catching her off guard. “Well, uh,” she swallowed nervously, “it would probably start with me straddling his lap.” Her words grew stronger as she felt braver, watching as James took a deep inhale and his jaw twitched. Maybe he was into it? He didn’t seem too opposed by at least the first part of her answer. “I’d grind down to feel him getting hard; feel his hands gripping my hips. Brush my lips against his just enough to tease before he pulls me into a proper snog.” 

James could feel his jim-jams starting to get embarrassingly tight, suddenly thankful for the blanket strewn across their laps. Movie long forgotten, he sat stunned at the words flowing from her mouth. She’s telling him these gorgeous things, all unprompted. This… This fantasy of hers, and he was picturing himself as the man she would be on top of in this theoretical scenario.

“Feel him flip me onto my back, grinding against me. Take each other’s clothes off and just…” She trailed off, looking at the dazed look on his face. Did she just go too far? “James? You okay…?” 

He shook himself out of his reverie. “Yeah, just thinking, erm—” He took a deep breath. “I just don’t know if it was descriptive enough.” 

It came out before he could even think. This was a dangerous game; a fine line he was treading. Would she even want him like that still? Did she think about him as much as he thought about her?

The smile on her face before biting her lower lip at his words said all he needed to know.

Rose moved the blanket off them, her eyes never leaving his. She simply couldn’t tear them away from the searing gaze he gave her as she moved. Adjusting, she moved to straddle his lap, her arms going around his neck and her face close to his. 

“Is this alright?” she asked tentatively. He nodded, automatically placing his hands lightly on her knees. He shuddered at the feeling of her bare skin, her sleep shorts ending at her upper thighs. In another brazen move, she took James’ hands in hers and set them on her waist. Giving just the smallest amount of pressure to indicate that he can touch. That he should touch.

The low groan that came out of his mouth when Rose ground down on his growing erection rumbled through his chest, making its way out of his throat. Gripping her hips tightly, he could barely contain himself, fighting off the urge to thrust up into her. Desperately trying to think of all the reasons this was a bad idea, he couldn’t fight off his desire-filled brain as the sexiest moan slipped out of her lips as she felt him hard against her core, making his blood feel like fire.

“Oh, fuck,” he moaned as she lowered his forehead to his. James felt her as she leaned in, brushing her lips against his in the lightest of touches. Their foreheads met, both of them quivering in anticipation. His hands drifted to her midriff, her sleep shirt having ridden up, revealing her gorgeous, soft skin that was just calling out for James to touch. Light fingertips grazed her sides as she panted lightly, her breath against his lips stoking the arousal pooling in his stomach and below his waist. “I guess this is the part where I kiss you?” The words came out quieter than he had meant them to. Thankfully, Rose heard and let out some hushed words of her own.

“Please, James—” That was all it took to shatter his resolve.

The fingers on his left hand moved down to dig into her arse while his right hand reached up to tangle his hands in her hair, hauling her mouth against his. She moaned into his mouth, her tongue slipping in while she had the chance. They kissed hard, but it wasn’t just some rough fuck. This was fueled by underlying emotions. By lust and adoration and absolute attraction to mind and body. He could barely think, but his movements were automatic when he remembered what came next.

‘Feel him flip me onto my back, grinding against me.’

Rose let out the most obscene moan as he flipped her with surprising grace and pressed his body against hers. He was big and hot and oh-so hard. She felt herself drenching her knickers at the thought of his cock inside her. The feeling of his fingers trailing down to the waistband of her shorts. “Rose,” he panted. “Can I?”

Feeling her nod frantically, James slipped his hand under the fabric, even going under her knickers. “Ooh,” he groaned, slicking himself up between her lips. “You’re absolutely soaked for me.” His fingers teased her entrance as she moaned, bucking her hips up for some type of friction.

She was able to choke out one word. “Inside.”

He grinned, slowly sliding one of his fingers inside, immediately starting to move gently. “Oh, I've been waiting for this.” His voice was low, sending a jolt of need through her and causing her to throb around the digits currently thrusting inside her. He sped up, adding a second finger and causing her to moan his name like a prayer. “I thought about doing this when I brought you home the first time. Imagining how you would feel, how you would react.” His fingers sped up, starting a nearly punishing rhythm as he curled them upwards into the spongy wall of her cunt.

The familiar tension in her gut came on quickly. “Shit, James, I’m-” She gripped onto the cushion of the couch, arching her back as she came hard. “God, James.” Stars flashed behind her eyes as he drew her orgasm out — paying careful attention to her pleasure. When she finally opened her eyes, he was studying her. Without another word, he pulled his fingers out of her and slipped them into his mouth.

“God, you taste amazing,” he groaned. Sucking his fingers clean, he moved to cover her body with his. “What I would do to taste you properly.” His hands drifted under her shirt and nails scratched against her side. Fingers tangling in his hair, Rose’s mind went blank as he began to bite at her neck.

“Fuck, James—” she whined. “Wait, we — fuck — should move. They’ll be back soon.”

James begrudgingly lifted his head, eyes meeting hers. His pupils were blown with lust and adrenaline. He knew, however, that she was right. He didn’t necessarily want to get caught shagging Rose on the living room couch. Besides, he wanted to really enjoy this. 

“Right,” he said quickly, clearing his throat, “Let’s take this upstairs?” It wasn’t meant to come out as a question. He eased himself off of her and held out his hand in invitation.

The flush on his face and bulge in his thin pyjama bottoms made Rose swoon. He was even more gorgeous than she drunkenly remembered. She took his hand, allowing him to help her up and lead her to the stairs. She couldn’t care less whose room they stumbled into, she just needed him now.

He kicked open the door to his room, which was closer to the staircase. Cloaked in darkness, Rose tried to take a peek inside while it had the sliver of light from the hall. An intricate dark wooden bed frame was the most notable object in the room, adored with dark red sheets, four matching pillows, and a black comforter. A dresser was against the wall, part of the set that went with the bed frame. There was a plain desk and shelves, lined with various knicknacks from his travels. His personal bookshelf was absolutely filled with books, but the room was too dark to see the titles of them. Various pieces of art hung on the walls, making everything seem more personalised. The room was full and cosy and so very James.

Pushing her into the dark room, James slammed the door closed behind them. Before he could move further through the dark, his back hit the door with a thud as Rose pushed him back against it, desperately crashing her lips to his. Her fingers trailed down his body and down to his cock straining against the fabric of his pyjamas, giving him a squeeze. She could feel every inch of him, the light fabric leaving nothing to the imagination.

She felt a rush of wetness between her legs when she heard the grunt he let out when her hand rubbed his cock. He teased her plenty earlier, now it was her turn.

“All this for me?” she whispered into his ear, gripping his cock through his bottoms. “I take it you’ve been thinking about me?” She grinned into his neck as he nodded, hips bucking into her hand as she rubbed him. Her thumb swiped across the head, feeling him leaking slightly and causing a wet spot to form in front of his pyjamas. He could feel her teeth and tongue on his collarbone, slowly making their way up his neck. He couldn’t help the guttural moan that escaped his lips when Rose deftly worked him through the fabric. She bit down lightly on his earlobe, her hot breath against his cheek. “Good, because I’ve been thinking about you.” 

Oh, that did it.

A growl ripped from his throat as he grabbed the back of her thighs, urging Rose to jump up and wrap her legs around his waist. She did just that, burying her hands into his hair and nipping at that bottom lip she’s always stared at while he walked them over to his bed. Nearly stumbling on a pair of his trainers that had been carelessly discarded on the floor, they giggled against each other’s lips lightly before sharing another deep kiss. The front of his knees finally hit the mattress, depositing her onto the soft sheets. “God, I’ve wanted you again ever since I saw you walk down the stairs when I moved in.”

“I’ve wanted you again ever since you caught me on those stairs,” Rose gasped. Hands roamed as they worked on divesting each other of their clothes. James’ t-shirt was the first to come off while Rose pulled at the waistband of his jim-jams. 

“Please, James,” she groaned as he pulled her hands off of him, reaching for the hem of her sleep shirt. “Need them off— Please.” She was making sure he knew exactly what she wanted, but he wasn’t about to give in that easily.

Once he had pulled the shirt off her frame and discarded it to the floor, he made quick work of kissing down to her breasts, feeling her nipples pebble as he rolled them between his fingertips. 

“What, Rose?” he asked, his voice low and sultry. “‘Please’ what?” The words sent a shiver down her spine, her fingers threading through his soft, thick hair. James hadn’t been this sexy and wanton during their drunken shag. It drove her crazy, seeing his eyes burning with pure desire, even in the darkness of his bedroom. She could feel them staring into her soul and breaking down any restraint she tried to form.

“Please fuck me. God, please just fuck me.” It was breathy and full of need. She couldn’t wait anymore. She felt as if she was about to combust.

James sat up as Rose lifted her hips, helping him pull her sleep shorts and knickers down her legs in one go. Her fingers slipped under his waistband and met skin. That’s when she realised that he wasn’t wearing any pants. He was bare against her hand, throbbing as Rose traced his length with just a finger. Barely a ghosting touch, but exhilarating nonetheless.

He couldn’t handle it. Quickly pulling down his pyjama pants, he crawled up the bed, following after Rose as her head hit his pillows. James used the opportunity to truly look at the goddess in his bed. Her golden hair fanned out on the red pillow like pure sunlight, framing her face in this golden aura. Her plump lips were bruised from the desperate snog in the living room, and her eyes were so dark that they nearly reflected the night sky as she laid bare before him. 

“Blimey, you’re so beautiful.” The words came out before he could stop them, and she just melted into the mattress even more. “I can’t believe I get to see you like this. Naked in my bed.” No sweet words were exchanged during their drunken shag. In fact, not many words were exchanged at all. Yet here he was, looking at her like she placed the stars in the sky herself.

“You’re not so bad yourself.” The tone was teasing and light, but there was no mistaking the aroused undertones of it as Rose’s eyes roamed over his body. The planes of his stomach, his v-line leading down to slim hip bones, the smattering of hair on his chest. He was fit but still muscled. Not heavily toned but still strong enough to carry her body weight however he wanted to. Her thoughts were interrupted by James pressing his body against hers, the underside of his cock sliding through her slick folds, eliciting a loud moan from both of them.

He gritted his teeth, willing himself to stay still. “Shit, Rose, I need…” he panted, frantically looking at his bedside table. “I don’t have any condoms.” James mentally cursed himself for not being prepared, even if it meant popping by the store for a simple box of condoms in case he needed them. 

“Don’t need ‘em,” Rose breathed, hips arching up to feel him bare against her. “‘M on the pill.” Reaching down, she wrapped her hand around him, stroking and tightening her grip ever so slightly as she twisted her hand on the upstroke. Feeling her rubbing the head of his cock through her wetness while biting her lip, he let out a long moan as her eyes met his. “Please, James. I need you in me.”

He didn’t have to think twice. Carefully adjusting himself, he slowly slid into her. Her sharp inhale slowed him, giving her time to adjust while placing kisses along her neck, shoulder, collarbone, and really anywhere he could reach. Finally being able to move, James sheathed himself within her. He gasped as he was enveloped in her warmth. She was so hot and tight and wet, and he was so thankful that he was sober and could ingrain this feeling into his brain. Rose’s nails bit into his back and shoulders, certainly leaving marks that will last days; a reminder of this precious moment. Of how he pleasured her so well.

The intimacy of it all was such a stark contrast from their drunken shag. The intentional but caring touches; passionate kisses without the rough clashing of teeth.

After another moment of adjusting and leisurely, gentle thrusts, her hips bucked up into his, indicating that she was ready for more. That she needed more. James’ lips met hers in another desperate, bruising kiss as he began to slowly pull out, groaning into her mouth. Her forehead pressed against his as he thrusted in sharply, punctuating it with a roll of his hips and a shared gasp from both of them. One of her legs wrapped around his hip, the other around his calf, as Rose encouraged him to move, crying out ‘harder’ and ‘more’ and ‘faster’, mingled in with lots of ‘oh, fuck’ and ‘oh, god, James’. The words just drove him further into absolute lust-filled delirium as he did just as she asked. His teeth found his way to her shoulder, sucking a dark purple bruise into her skin. Leaving a reminder of tonight on her for her to see later.

The sound of skin on skin filled the room, accompanied by gasps and grunts. He wrapped his left arm under her waist, using his right elbow against the mattress to keep him up, and changed the angle of her hips. Rose cried out as his cock went deeper with each roll of his hips, trying to mimic it to see her fall apart underneath him. The absolute pleasure coursing through her left her with no coherent thoughts except James. The smell of his sweat as his bare chest pressed against hers. The feel of his arms around her, hauling her against him as he fucked her hard and fast. The delicious sounds he made against her neck as his thrusts began to become more consistent and intentional, finding her g-spot and hitting it with each meeting of their hips.

James could feel the telltale signs of his orgasm approaching, his stomach coiling tighter and tighter. Thankfully, it seemed like Rose was approaching the precipice of it with him. 

“Oh, god, Rose,” he groaned into her neck. “Are you close?” He peppered her neck with kisses as he felt her shudder, legs tightening around him as she got closer and closer.

“God yes, James. Fuck. I’m so close. Please, I want you to come inside me.” She pulled his lips back down to theirs, crying out against his mouth. Her fingers were pulling on his hair, desperately trying to convey how badly she wanted him.

He fed into the encouragement blindly as his hips stuttered, staving off the inevitable to bring Rose to completion first. “That’s it, Rose,” he murmured, his voice gravelly and incredibly breathy. “I can feel you getting close. I want you to come for me. Need you to come for me. Shit, you feel so good.” He was rambling at that point, practically begging for her to join him.

“So close. Gonna come—” Rose choked out, one hand trailing down to rub against her clit, inadvertently brushing against the base of his cock, eliciting a groan from the man above her. Her thighs quivered as the string pulled more and more taut inside her.

“Come for me, love. That’s it. Fuck, you’re absolutely beautiful.”

That did it. Her orgasm came crashing down on her. Rose threw her head back, letting out the filthiest moan James had ever heard as her walls tightened around him, triggering his own release. He grunted through it, emptying himself into her as she came down from her high, her legs keeping his hips tight against hers. His head was spinning and sparks flashed behind his eyelids as he tried to regain his awareness. 

As he came back to reality, soft hands rubbed his back as he held himself up on shaky arms, panting harshly. Carefully, he rolled over, wincing as his already-softening cock slipped out of her. Blindly reaching over onto his bedside table, a box of tissues were quickly brought over. James took the liberty of cleaning Rose up tenderly, smiling and softly meeting her eyes softly. An unspoken agreement between them that this wasn’t just sex but something else entirely.

He tossed the tissues into the trash can, reaching down to pull the sheets up over them. He grinned as Rose crawled into his embrace, laying against his side and sighing in contentment as his heart beat against her ear. A leg draped over his own and the room settled, silent confessions hanging heavily in the air. This wasn’t just a naked cuddle after just sex. James wouldn’t want anything but this post-coital bliss at this moment.

“That was… wow,” Rose murmured against his chest, fingers drawing patterns in the light bit of hair on his chest.

He couldn’t help but laugh. “Yeah, it was, wasn’t it?” James smiled and closed his eyes, turning his head pressing a kiss to her hair. In a domestic way. Shit. He realised what he had done, frantically looking down at the blonde goddess in his arms. Her hands cupped his face, thumbs caressing his cheekbones. Copper eyes met his, flickering down to his lips. “Rose, I’m sorry if—”

“Do that again,” she said in a breathy whisper, cutting him off from starting his anxious rambling.

His lips met hers passionately, Rose leaning closer onto him, almost in his lap. James’ hands automatically wrapped around her, both of them tangled in the red sheets of his bed. Shared moans and gasps fueled his desire, hardening under the blanket as Rose’s hand began to wander down towards his cock. Right as they began to get lost in the exploration of each other’s mouths, the door swung open.

“Oi, we’re back. Did you finish up with—” It was like a record scratch — everyone froze. Donna’s eyes went wide at James and Rose in bed together. “Bloody hell, James! Lock your door!” the ginger exclaimed, covering her eyes and quickly backing out of the room. 

Mortified, Rose pulled the sheets up against her fully as he made sure the situation in his lap wasn’t visible to his sister, who really should have known better than to just barge into his room unannounced. Well, maybe not, but still. It didn’t make the entire thing not feel like an eternity where his stomach was clawing out of his throat in embarrassment.

James frantically tried to untangle himself from the sheets, feet meeting the floor as he attempted to pull his pyjama pants back on. His foot caught on the pant leg, sending him tumbling onto the floor. 

“Donna! Wait!” James called after her as he tried to make his way to the door. His bottoms were still tangled around his ankles, a failed attempt at modesty. And the worst part?

Rose couldn’t help but laugh at the ridiculousness of the whole thing.

#my fic #tenth doctor #rose tyler #doctor who #tenrose #ten/rose #ten x rose #donna noble #jack harkness #doctor who fanfiction #enjoy the smut friends

[popculturebuffet]

Beetlemania: Dan Garret (Mystery Men Comics #16, Blue Beetle V1 #15)

Hello all you happy people and welcome one and all to beetlemania, patreon Brotoman.EXE's brilliant idea; use his patreon reviews for the next few months, take some time off robuts in disguise and onto those boys in blue, the unsung heroes of the dcu, and those who don't know when to give up: The Blue Beetles, covering all three up until the premire of the sparkly new movie in August. This WAS supposed to take up the summer, but with June being a mess thanks to my move, your getting two beetles this month, and then Jamie next month, along with a review of the film once I sees it. It's an ode to two heroes I love dearly.. and a chance to get to know one a lot better That one is Dan Garret and out of the three boys in blue, he's the only one I hadn't read ANY of going into this: I've read a ton of ted appearnces inclduing most of JLI and a chunk of his DC solo and all of the legendary John Rogers run for Jamie that kicked off the character, as well as a smidgen of his rebirth run. This isn't really the characters fault, but more DC Comics. See for those unaware while the beetle is a dc character NOW he has a bit of a complicated publishing history. Beetle started out under Victor S. Fox's Fox Comics. Fox.. was one heck of a character in himself, having been quoted as stomping around going "I'M THE KING OF COMICS I'M THE KING OF COMICS, I'M THE KING OF COMICS" and infamously making up Kooba cola, a soft drink that never existed but was still promoted in his comics and is refrenced rentelessly on atop the fourth wall. Fox was kinda nuts but he manged to still turn out a big star... which weirdly wasn't Stardust the Super Wizard, an actual character I just found out existed but have somehow never heard about and now badly need to cover. He was indeed a super wizard who watched as crime took place, for some reason did nothing, then after horrible things happened sure as hell avenged them with violence.

But since people didn't apparently want to see atomic supermen kill gangsters, Beetle became their breakout. The original Blue Beetle was Dan Garret, who definitely was a cop.

Yeah it's a shockingly common trope for superheroes, Dick Grayson also spent some time walking the beat, but it's really mostly there to set up Dan to be on the scene just in time instead of to beat up the poor, your tired, your huddled masses yearning to break free. Dan is a second generation cop and became the beetle to avenge his dad, sometimes working with a professor to give him super strength. Later it'd instead be a scarab he found after the silver age shifted dan to being an archeologist. This.. will be important later. For now though dan is flanked by two supporting characters: Joan Mason, an intrepeted reporter love intrest

And Mike Mannigan, Dan's dad's former partner and proof we need to defund the police. He's basically a comic relief grumpus who wants to catch the beetle but couldn't catch a cold and as we'll see is a bit of an asshat of all trades. Today we'll be looking at thereestories of the Beetle: The first is from Mystery Men Comic and both gives us a more typical blue beetle story.. but also has Beetle battling the nefarious crimes of Big Dix.

It's low hanging fruit and both AT4W and ComicTropes have talked about Big Dix, but frankly there's enough Dix to go around. The second is for less hilarious reasons: Brotoman wanted to spotlight Sparky, the blue beetle's sidekick, who most people don't know exist and who remained in comics limbo. Ironically neither of us realized that in the recent mini series Stargirl: The Lost Children... SPARKY CAME BACK.

Yeah. The series is about Courtney rescuting a bunch of sidekicks lost in time, all from the golden age and most being brand new, such as the Boom, daughter of jay garrick, but Sparky.. was also brought alone. He only shows up for one panel in profile, but a missing chapter of the beetle's legacy is something bound to peak ted and Jamie's intrest. So join me under the cut for some Big Dix, some small british children, and some casual racisim and sexisim! ... I don't know whY I ended on the worst part of it but come along!

The Blue Beetle versus the Nefarious Girth of Big Dix Look the name alone would be funny.. but what makes this story special is the horrifying contrast. See we have the funny name.. but Big Dix crimes are dead serious: He's selling faulty playground equipment that causes the death of several children on screen. No blood, thank god, but it's still pretty damn harrowing and not something i'm willing to show you guys. So yeah this is a story about a chlid murderer.. named big dix. Brotoman has a theory about that

Joan mason outs big dix as the biggest dix to the cops, and nearly gets killed for it, but Dan and Mike easily clean house. So now

Soon after Dan goes to get some MMMM drugs to become the blue beetle.. and we get a panel that perfectly sums up the unintentional tonal whiplash of this story

BIG DIX, MURDERER OF CHILDREN

It only gets funnier because they treat Big Dix as the biggest test Dan has ever faced, a true insurmountable wall. And as a villian Big Dix woudl work.. if it just werne't for the name. It'd be like if the Kingpin was named Testicles McGoo. It just deflates any menace you have.

After finding where Big Dix is sheathed, we get this awesome entrance

FUCK YES. Ted may have his bitchin Bug, Jamie may have his armor, but Dan Garret has a fucking mortorcycle. Paint that sucker blue and yellow and it'll join it's friends.. and the beetle buggy in valhalla.

Oh and if that wasn't enough...

Holy shit I think Dan Garret just killed a man...

I'll admit dan is just fun to watch. While he has super strength drugs and bullet proof chainmail, most of his prowess is just pure skill. He focuses more on throws and punches.. mostly throws. Seriously Dan Garret REALLY loves throwing guys.

Look ted has Genius, Jamie has armor , both of them have heart.. but none of them have the power of motorcycles and throwing motherfuckers.

The two face off and while the Beetle Can take big dix, he can't take his mortal weakness STAIRS!

And blunt force head trauma.

So after capturing jone, Big Dix plans to throw Blue BEetle out of his tower, the BIGGER DIX, but Beetle wakes up from his concussion and as his style throws another guy. Big Dix responds with gas.... for some reason, and super runs away. So beetle's response to get him and joan out of the deadly gas filled hallway before they both suffocate?

... why has DC done nothing with this man?

After a "Ray for the blue beetle!" Which.. isn't a ship I ever thought of but nice thought 1940s man, we get our destined showdown

With dan as you can see winning with his deadly THROWING PUNCH. Seriously the man can't even punch without throwing someone. Beetle wins, the world's children are safe from Big Dix, all is well. So ... this story is actually really good. While the name is hilarious, it's a genuinely fun "Superhero vs gangsters story", with Big Dix having disappearing stairs and a big tower and dan throwing people every which way. My only regret is he didn't throw anyone at the screen. Sure some of the mention of big dix can come off as

But that's entirely in hindsight. Hilarious, hilarious hindsight. As a story on it's own it's really good stuff.

Blue Beetle and Sparky Vs Some WWII Propoganda!

Now if you glanced at the covers of the original volume of the blue beetle you'd probably expect sparky's first apperance to be issue 14

For whatever reason all we get in that issue is Blue Beetle fighting the wicked looking RED ROBE OF DEATH!.. and I file that away on the rather massive pile of "Stuff I need to cover another day. " So we're onto sparky's first apperance.. which weirdly ISN'T his origin. Yeah that comes later in the comic and is kinda dry but in short: he's an orphan, he's rich, he can kick ass, as demonstrated on some toughs, and he finds out Dan's identity and asks him to train him. Mike also bafflingly reacts to this like he's seeing double here, four beetles, despite Sparky being younger, not having the chainmail cap and being an actual chlidren.

So our story begins with a splash page foreshadowing the story with nothing in it before we cut to Dan and Mike, given their latest assignment, to extradite Rob Rutter, local thug , from one state to another. They get an unexpected stoaway in sparky.. whose just here now. He's also despite his upperclaass as hell name seen in the panel way up above... a little shit.

This may be the worst thing i've seen a sidekick do. I mean if it was Dick Grayson i'd absolutely get it

But here I Mean where does it end? Will he threaten them if dan dosen't take him to mcdonalds? will he do it anyway if dan just gets a black coffee for himself as he should in response to this blackmail? Will mike be mad he dosen't get his double quarter pounder with extra cheese? These questions will forever haunt me as I doubt JSA will be answering them.

So the extradition itself goes smoothly, but on the way back your standard boiler plate "THE JAPANESE ARE BAD. IT'S OKAY TO BE RACIST AGAINST AN ENTIRE COUNTRY BECAUSE WE'RE AT WAR WITH THEM. THIS WILL NEVER LEAD TO HORRIBLE CONSEQUENCES" vilaness, who takes their gangster and leaves them with four flat tires. Mike's reaction.. is half the reason I wanted to cover this story in paticualar. Perhaps even 75%

I just.. I can't.. I just can't stop laughing at this panel. It's so agressively sexist, so grumpy, so over the top. LIke.. how much does he buy into that/ Is it just bluster? did he have a bad divorce? is he just a sexist asshat?

Or does he genuinely, 100% this in some crazy conspiracy theorist way.

"Think about it HITLER was born by a woman. If she'd just let her husband pull out there'd be no world war 2!" "Polio was made in secret womens only labs!" "Women made the mighty stegasaurs go excitnct by telling him to fix his alchol problem!" "My ex wife killed kaiser wilhelm!" "I saw a woman drive a chicken off a cliff but miraculous survivie!" "A woman cut my breaks after I dated her sister who also cut my breaks! "I saw a woman turn into a griaffe and then back into a car!" 'WWOWOOOOOMMMMEEENNNNNN" Naturally in a fit of karma not only is our heroes savior Joan whose here because the plot says so because scoops, but he falls off the back. Granted Dan casually uses the J slur so I guess EVERYONE in this car except joan is some form of asshat.

At any rate our friends find an abandoned country club. Madam Fang berates Rutter and tells them to TAKE HIM AWAY. So wait.. her whole purpose for doing this, drawing attention to herself... was just to pull a you have failed me? That's what prison shankings are for. Clumsy madam fang, real clumsy.

The Beetles plan to have Joan attentend to Mike . Thankfully before he can club her for mailing all his cats to his ex wife in canada, she's kidnapped by the villians including an awful japanese sterotype. I mean i've seen some bad stertoypes but I forgot just how next level hate mongering Golden Age racisim was. They make the poor guy look like a cromagnon and talk like jar jar binks. I .. I refuse to show it. I just do. It's gross.

So Madam Fang kills plot device gangster and plans to kill Joan and we get a fight scene. Once again the art is top notch. Not as good as the last story, the panels are a touch more crowded and the art a bit muddy (though the last part is likelyin some big part age), Sparky throws out some slurs, and Ted gets beaten by his newest arch foe.. a vase

Sparky is captured because small child

And our heroes are put in the DROWNING POOL instead of letting the bodies hit the floor. Sparky is less than optimistic

Dan however has a pretty clever fix: he got the shards of glass from the vase she broke over him... int he 40's vases were made of glass and elephant bones apparently. This allows Team Beetle Plus Sparky to get free and escape So apparently madam fang's plan is to.. cause a giant flood . She just needs a patsy. Enter mike who dosen't recognize Fang from earlier, suprising no one, and makes a racial slur. I remain not suprised as he agrees to throw a switch for her no questions asked.

Oh and it gets better... when Beetle arrives to stop her, he plans to ARREST HIM FOR DISTURBING THE PEACE.

Thankfully beetle saves the day and Mike.. never figures out the switch was a trap

The Madam Fang story wasn't nearly as good as big dix thanks to a combination of clumiser art, PLENTY of racisim, and Mike having to be so stupid the sun blots out to make this work. That being said Mike's intense stupidity makes it ENJOYABLY bad, not as much as the name big dix, but still a lot of fun. It's like Chief Wiggum because a superhero's bumbling nemisis. It's great.

So that was Dan. He'd gon on to have more adventures, getting rebooted in the silver age as an archelogist, with sparky lost to time till the lost children, and joan still lost to time, with that being the origin brought over post crisis. Next tim we'll see the man that took over him in both Charlton and DC Flavors, get more on that transition as we meet the man, the myth, the bwahahah, mr TED MOTHERFUCKING KORD. Thanks for reading

#blue beetle #dan garrett #dc comics #fox comics #sparky #kooba cola #golden age comics #sparkington j northrope #joan mason #mike manngian

[space-blue]

okay first of all how does anyone bear to do asks i need to keep switching between two tabs trying to figure out what questions i'm trying to ask, there's got to be an easier way-- BUT right, Behind the Scenes asks: 1, 5, 12, 18 PLEASE, and 23. (PS am i supposed to ask so many? prob not. screw it, i'm greedy (PPS am i supposed to be anon rn idk if that's correct etiquette)) THANKS!

I jot the numbers down somewhere if I'm getting overwhelmed. You did great though! And no, there is no etiquette on how many to ask, don't worry. If there's a double I'll just send you to the other ask. More means I get to talk about fic more, which is great! :3

What was the first fandom and/or pairing that you wrote fic for?

Star Wars, Thrawn x OC. I was pretty sauced. I think I have some great moments in there, and I was free to create all the banter I wanted, etc. But it suffers a LOT from me being completely new to multi chapter work. I go into meandering tengeants and don't know when to stop on the world building. It had its fans and really dragged me into the whole fanfic universe though. Maybe one day I'll finish it, but I had no idea which way to go. I feel like I wrote myself in a corner, somewhat haha

5. What is the perfect environment for you to write in?

I don't mind loud spaces like cafes or pubs, so long as the music isn't obnoxious and I can hear my own. I just like places where nobody is going to come to me to interrupt me. Sadly I live and work in a backpacker hostel, meaning I have 50 odd housemates at any given time, without counting the 250 guests. I get interrupted a LOT. So right now, hidden in my bed or hunkering down at my fav cafe, would be my answer.

12. Is there a trope you haven’t written yet but really want to?

Yes! There's this Tarkin & Ahsoka fic I mentioned in this ask. It focuses on the amnesia trope. I really, really like to write sort of mind fucky things from character PoV. So Tarkin struggling with shattered memories and having to rebuild himself while trusting this total stranger… Hard. Especially when WE all know she's lying to him to try and use him for her side, because the rebellion just needs the help that badly. I do need to make better research on real amnesia before I apply scifi logic to it... And I need to not be hyperfixation on Quaritch's blue ass. His own trope scratches a similar itch, since he's a clone with implanted memories. So identity crisis as well...

18. What is a line/scene you’re really proud of? Give us the DVD commentary for that scene.

OK ok I have this entry from my Hannibal ficlets that focuses on a secret inside the "mind palace" Hannibal Lecter has. I've read all three relevant Hannibal books, watched the films, all TV series… And then I read the book Piranesi by Susanna Clarke. It's excellent and I recommend it. It focuses on a man living inside an enormous house that has three levels going in all directions, with clouds in the top level and a sea with rushing tides in the bottom. There are statues everywhere… And birds… And it's very WTF and it takes you a long time to understand what's going on. It's in this man's pov too which thickens the mystery.

I love the works of Piranesi. He's an italian architect and archaelogist who once got sick. 22 yo and delirious with fever, he sketched a series of 'infinite prisons' which you can see here!

So I'm writing this tiny daily ficlet, trying to stick as close to 200 words as I can, and I was folding myself into a piranesian pretzel trying to FIT THE DAMN EXPRESSION in. Making Hannibal's mind palace into a piranesian thing.

There is a corner of his mind always plagued by snow. It is a torturous journey there, through labyrinthine passages, down echoing stairwells and across bridges arcing over the piranesian landscape of his palace. It is easy to lose one's way, to be distracted by the vaulted ceilings of a chapel, the confines of well used hideouts, or the familiar outlines of his Baltimore office. But if he keeps walking, fingers brushing against all the door-frames of all the halls of his mind, eventually they alight on damp wood, cold and brittle. 

[he's off to visit his baby sister, who he keeps in there. He was forced to eat her by soldiers as a child, yeah it's dark]

23. If you had to remix one of your own fics, which would it be and how would you remix it?

I'm not super hung up on this idea. I write and move on. I have 151 works currently and I've been on ao3 for not even 3 years. So as you can imagine I have a tendency to create a new work rather than worry about remixing.

This being said I'd probably completely retool my very first fic, as per answer 1. I'd change the OC, shorten the plot by A LOT, get the action started sooner, completely drop a lot of worldbuilding… It's a slog, which can be very sweet in a fanfic when you're enjoying the slog content, but dear lord, it makes for awkward re-reading. I'd make the OC an alien instead of a human raised by aliens. Too much going on.

#ask #anon ask #thanks a lot anon!

[bluejayblueskies]

i cannot stop thinking about tma hell's kitchen au

(@f0xesand0wls thank you for enabling me)

- elias is the head chef, and peter and gertrude are his sous chefs. there are 20 total chefs in the competition: red team: jon, tim, georgie, daisy, naomi, agnes, gerry, jordan, helen/michael, oliver blue team: martin, sasha, melanie, basira, mike, jude, julia, jared, jane, manuela

- the black jackets are jon, martin, tim, sasha, georgie, and melanie, and the finalists are jon and martin. the winner is probably martin, but it doesn't really matter, because the actual plot of this is a jonmartin rivals-to-friends-to-lovers slowburn

- annabelle is the one who puts all of the film and audio together at the end. jmart watch the show once it's put on television and go 'what the fuck i didn't say any of that' because that's how reality tv is babey

- martin is one of those chefs who does poorly at the beginning but gets better and ends up in the final two. even though he's not on the same team as jon, jon is like 'this guy sucks' and maybe martin messes something up for jon early on and jon decides he does not like martin.

- jon is so nervous that he's going to screw up and get sent home early (he doesn't have formal culinary training and feels deeply underqualified) so he's very stiff and overly professional at the beginning. he relaxes over time as he becomes more confident in his own cooking and as he does well at challenges and dinner services.

- somewhere around chapter/episode 5, martin tells jon that he doesn't have any formal culinary training and that he said he did in order to get into the restaurant job he had prior to coming on the show. he's been cooking for his mother since he was ten though, and jon surprises himself by saying that that's a lot more impressive than studying technique in france or something. that's the catalyst of their transition from rivals into friends

- somewhere around episode 8, jude (who got switched to the red team a few episodes prior) gets eliminated, but on the dinner service before she does, there's an incident in the kitchen and jon's hand gets burnt pretty badly (not so badly that he has to go home, and he fights through the rest of dinner service because of course he does). he insists he doesn't have to go to the hospital for it, and elias reluctantly agrees and has the medic look at it. in the dorms later, martin helps jon unwrap it and put more burn cream on it and change the bandages and... yeah <3

- daisy and jon do not get along at first, and daisy actually tries to sabotage jon early in the season/fic. jon nearly gets eliminated because of it and he is not happy. then, a good few episodes later, the red team wins a challenge and they go on some sort of outdoorsy award and something happens and jon saves daisy from getting seriously injured. they're on better terms after that.

- when jon, tim, sasha, martin, melanie, and georgie get black jackets, elias (like every actual season of hell's kitchen) brings their family members/friends in for them to see. jon gets his grandmother, tim his brother, sasha her mother, georgie her best friend alex, and melanie some of her ghosthunt uk (the restaurant) friends. the only person martin has is his mother, and they tell him that she was too sick to come, but he can't shake the feeling that she just didn't want to. she didn't even agree to make him a video. it's a very awkward affair, and after the challenge (which tim wins) jon stands by martin while they're... idk, peeling 200 pounds of potatoes or something and they talk about it and they talk about a lot of their personal lives. for most of the competition, they're very aware that they're on camera at all times, but jon decides that being there for martin is more important than worrying about that.

- jon wins the next black jacket challenge and, when asked who he wants to invite on the reward, invites martin. they get to go wine tasting in a beautiful vinyard together and then they get some time to sit in the vinyard and just relax. martin probably realized he had a crush on jon around... episode/chapter 8? pretty soon after his admission that he doesn't have formal training. this episode is when jon realizes that he has a crush on martin, and the wine tasting suddenly seems very romantic and he gets very flustered. martin just thinks he's getting nervous since they're getting closer to the end of the competition.

- it's martin and jon in the finals. martin has tim, melanie, basira, and agnes on his bridage and jon has sasha, georgie, daisy, and gerry. in the middle of the entrees, something goes very wrong in martin's kitchen (not because of martin, because agnes burns like... ten racks of lamb or something ridiculous like that) and it looks like martin might not even be able to finish and he's freaking out just a little bit, so jon does something incredibly stupid and tells sasha to take charge of the kitchen for a moment and goes over into the other kitchen and pulls martin aside and takes martin's hands in his and is like 'it's okay, you're okay, everything's going to be okay. you're extremely talented and an amazing chef and an amazing person and i love you and this is not your fault and you're going to go back out there and get things back on track.'

jon goes back to his kitchen, elias yelling at him the whole way, and martin kicks agnes out and gets his kitchen back under control and they have no other issues that night. and martin's brain completely skips over the 'i love you' until the end of service, when the adrenaline wears off and they start to clear down and jon gives him this smile and suddenly martin remembers and he's like 'oh fuck'

but jon doesn't say anything about it so martin assumes he hadn't meant to say it, because of course he didn't, because they're competing for a job and $250,000 and he probably just heard jon wrong or something. jon probably said 'i love your cooking' and martin's just being stupid and letting his crush get away from him. so they both go back and sit in the dorms and wait for elias to call them up to his office. meanwhile, jon also remembers that he accidentally let i love you slip and he's having a bit of a crisis about it because on the one hand he meant it, but on the other hand he should not have said it then and martin hasn't said anything, so maybe he didn't even hear.

still, martin needs to thank jon. so he's eventually like 'thank you for what you did back there. i don't think i would have made it through service without what you said.' then, after a moment, because it is a competition: 'why did you help me? you could have let me drown and you'd have a secure win'

and jon just shrugs and says, 'because you needed help, and i... i care about you. i didn't want to see you fail. you are a good chef, martin, and i... i know you deserve this job just as much as me. you can go work at elias's restaurant and i can go back to mine and... and that'll be okay, if that's what happens'

and martin realizes suddenly that jon lives across the country from him normally and he doesn't know if he'll be able to see jon after this (chefs are busy people, after all, not a lot of time for family and such) and before he can really think about it he's like 'i wouldn't be okay with that' and then when jon just looks at him he clarifies, 'i... i don't want to just go back to living in [washington?], working all day and coming home to an empty apartment, and you'll go back to [new york?] and i... will i even see you again? because it's been so nice, being here, being with you, and i want to see you again, jon. every day.' he hesitates a moment, then decides fuck it, if i'm wrong, at least i'll only be embarrassed for a little while longer and says, 'what you said during service. did you mean it?'

and jon, tentatively, is like, 'that you're a good chef? yes, martin, i meant it, of course i did' and martin's like 'no, the... the other thing you said. right in the middle of it all. i- i don't know if i heard you right, and i just... i need to know if you meant it'

and it would be easy for jon to say no, to pretend like he didn't. but instead, he sits next to martin on the couch and takes martin's hand in his and nods and says, 'i... i've meant it for quite some time, i think' and he smiles at martin, a little bit shy, and martin's overwhelmed with affection and he reaches for jon's face, leans forward, and--

and the phone rings. unfortunately. because elias made a decision

- martin's door opens and jon's doesn't. jon thinks he should feel crushed, and he does feel disappointed, but mostly he's just so, so happy for martin. martin is stunned, and tim and sasha and georgie and melanie and basira and daisy are waiting for him below to congratulate him. martin's stuck in a round of thank yous when he turns and sees jon, who's run down the stairs to join the celebration and is looking at martin with those same eyes he would get when he was determined to win a challenge or finish a dish that needed two more minutes in one minute. and then jon just hugs martin, so tightly martin can barely breathe, and he mumbles into martin's neck, 'i would very much like to kiss you, but i very much do not want our first kiss to be on national television' and martin laughs and hugs jon tightly in return and mumbles back, 'i love you too, jon. just in case it wasn't obvious' and even though jon just lost, he's never been happier

- (they watch the show when it comes out together half a year later, in the little bit of free time they have around running their own respective restaurants, and they spend the whole time picking it apart

jon: okay i did not say that, where did they even get that from??

martin: god do i really look like that from behind...

jon: oh christ. martin, i- i think they thought i wanted to have sex with you. ugh, they've put on weird romantic music. red lighting. i hate this. i clearly did not--no, martin, don't give me that look, you know what i mean.

martin: wow, this makes us look like terrible chefs

and, at the end:

jon: christ, of course they were recording us in the dorms after the last service. this is a cooking competition, not a romance.

martin: eh, it was a bit of a romance.

jon: hush, i'm trying to watch. they're about to announce the winner. i don't have much hope for this chef martin; after all, he did burn that risotto back in episode 2--

martin, trying not to laugh while he glares at jon: oh my god jon let it go)

#tma #the magnus archives #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #jonmartin #i have so many aus already rolling around in my head begging to be written but 👀 #have another incredibly obscure one relevant solely to my own interests lol #my fic #my writing #basically lol this is... a lot

[yutahoes]

Devil Inside

pairing : childhood friends! Yuta x Y/N

genre : fluff, horror au, smut but not detailed

word count: 5.6k words

warnings: fuckboy Yuta, calling someone a 'goth girl', horror movies, Yuta becomes an incubus, too much blood, raw meat eating, flesh eating, human organ eating, slut shaming a minor character, calling Yuta a whore, killing, mention of male molestation, mentioned teacher-student intercourse, shirtless Yuta, mentions of breeding, mentioned kitchen sex, mentioned shower sex, mentioned rough sex, Y/N getting wounded, skipping classes, Yuta as a murderer, a cambion. In other words, this is disturbing and problematic.

a/n: Inspired by this set of pictures and the movie Jennifer's Body. This is my first time writing a horror themed AU and this is badly written. I just can't stop thinking about this so for me to do something productive today, I had to post this. 😂 This has uncomfortable theme so please read in moderation. I went crazy over this, sorry. Feedback is highly appreciated. 😘

You and Yuta had been friends since forever, stemming from the history of your parents being friends and all since college. Your home is his home and you have your own room in his house. Staying together inside one room isn't a problem, your parents trusted you both but growing up is different. 

You had to admit that you grew up leading a boring life, too bookish, and didn't even interact with your classmates. Yuta, on the other hand, has always been the life of the party, the school superstar, the popular guy. And that huge difference created a wall between your friendship. 

You didn't know when it started, it just did. He started hanging out with the cool kids while you were left in the shadows. You can't really get mad at him, that's growing up. And he didn't change when it was just the two of you. 

When your parents would go abroad for their business trips, Yuta would check on you every night. If you have eaten dinner, if you've locked all the windows, or if you knew the number for the police station or the fire station in case something happens. He's still the same Yuta. Your childhood friend, Yuta. 

"Did you do your assignments?" He asked, not removing his eyes from the TV where he's watching a horror film. This is something that he can't do at their home or his mom would freak out. 

You rolled your eyes, answering a 'Yes, abeoji' while opening the fridge to see what to have for breakfast tomorrow then whining since there's more raw food in there than easy-to-eat foods. "I'll probably skip breakfast tomorrow." You said more to yourself, already thinking to wake up early and just get some waffles from the shop near the bus stop.

"Just leave the back door unlocked, I'll cook breakfast for you tomorrow." Yuta claimed that made you look at him. 

You raised your eyebrow at that. "Weird that you're here." You started then sat next to him on the couch, "No date?" He showed a screenshot of her photo, a different girl than yesterday. She was wearing black, with black eyeliner, and a pierced eyebrow. "She looks like a goth. Is that your type now?" 

"She's hot!" He exclaimed and you just nodded at him. "And she wants to meet at 11 pm so yeah." That was a weird time to meet up. But you didn't react and just focused on the TV just as the jump scare happened. You quickly hid your face on the throw pillow, blowing heavy breaths that made the guy next to you laugh. You hated horror, hated blood, and you're convinced that Yuta is doing this to scare you. "I'll get going." He said, standing up. 

"Can you close the TV first? Or stop the movie, at least?" You said, face still behind the pillow. He laughed then closed the TV, engulfing you in darkness that made you more scared. The bloody face from the TV earlier flashing on your mind. 

"Sorry Y/N. I promised not to scare you like that again." You heard him say then felt something warm on the top of your head followed by a smooching sound. He patted your head, "I really have to go. I'll see you in the morning." 

You waited for the sound of the door closing before you removed the throw pillow from your burning face. He kissed your head, right? You felt that. Why would he do that? Does he know that you have a crush on him? Or is it just his manwhore ways? But why you? You screamed at the throw pillow, cursing at Yuta for being the charming guy he is. 

You cannot deny the fact that each day, your feelings for Yuta had to grow. Who are you to blame when he's getting more handsome each day? And you're just a girl who has a weak heart for him. The image was still vivid in your mind, the first time you watched a horror movie and you were already crying in fright ten minutes into the movie. "I will protect you, Y/N." And you believed that. Yuta is always there to protect you. 

A loud bang can be heard that made you wake up in your sleep. You listened for other noises and heard footsteps, someone is inside your home. The first instinct is to call Yuta but what if he's in another place, you cannot trouble him. So you just took the baseball bat he lent you for this circumstance, repeating in your mind the number of the police station. 

You quietly tiptoed down the stairs and saw the light of the refrigerator open. Is it a food thief? And how did he come inside your house? You can see a trail of blood on the kitchen floor that startled you. The bat was dropped on the floor when you saw someone seated in front of the refrigerator. "Yuta?" 

He was covered in blood, eating the raw beef as if starving. His eyes were blood cold and you stepped back in fright. He looks like a monster. What kind of a crazy dream is this? You have to do something to wake up. Anything to wake yourself up. 

And as stupid as you sound, you hit your head with the bat that was on the ground. 

You opened your eyes, the sunlight hitting your eyes and your head aching real bad as if something hit you. You groaned while stretching then remembered your dream. Yuta. Your kitchen. Quickly, you ran to the kitchen to see Yuta’s mom cooking something. “I’m glad you’re up. You’ll be late for class.” 

“Auntie, where is Yuta?” She shrugged, saying that he didn’t even go home last night. It was a normal occurrence, that’s part of Yuta’s social life. “I’ll just prepare for school.” When you glanced at the couch, Yuta’s baseball bat was there. Weird, isn’t it supposed to be in your room? 

You had a nice breakfast, thanks to Yuta’s mom, and enough time to go to school. The first thing was to get your books in your locker and walk to class, avoiding some of your schoolmates who block the way. Before you can get inside the room, you see Yuta passing by opposite your way with a new girl in his arms. You knew her, the cheerleader, the basketball team’s girlfriend. Wow, she reached the soccer team now. When your eyes met with Yuta, you were reminded of him seated on your kitchen floor. Filled with blood and with dead cold eyes. You shake your head. That was a dream. You shivered. A very vivid dream. 

It was a normal boring school day, a typical day that it surprised you when Yuta wrapped his arms around you then leaned closer. “I need your help.” A curious look was etched on your face. “Math. Help me study for the exam tomorrow.” You nodded, removing his hand from your shoulder. “Why?” He asked before putting back his hand on you. 

“I just don’t want your girlfriends to misunderstand.” Yuta chuckled then pinched your cheek. “Yuta, stop it. It hurts.” 

He smiled. That breathtaking smile which makes you weak for him. “Sorry.” He whispered then leaned to place a kiss on your reddening cheek, startling you. Your eyes widened at his actions. What is wrong with Yuta? “You do know that I like you more than I like those girls, right?” What? Your heart kept on beating wildly against your chest that you’re scared he might hear it. “I’ll see you later, Y/N.” 

Once you breathe in, without realizing that you’re holding your breath, you saw everyone’s eyes were on you. Oh no! This is trouble. 

You went home early, trying to stay away from your schoolmates. You don’t want to talk to them and explain that you’re friends with Yuta, that will cause some damage to him. But why did he do that? You tried raking your brains for an answer but you can’t seem to find the right one. So you just shrugged it and maybe ask Yuta when he gets to your house. 

It’s late at night. You finished reviewing the whole chapter for your exam tomorrow yet Yuta is a no show. You lightly glanced at the house next door, seeing that the living room lights were on. Their car isn’t in the garage, meaning his parents are not at home. Then you saw the silhouette of someone making out on the couch. Oh, his ditching makes sense now. You closed the door and made sure to close the light, ready to get a good night’s sleep. 

You opened your eyes in darkness, the clock reading that it’s almost 4 am. You felt thirsty that you decided to go downstairs to get a cup of water, halfway through the stairs you can see someone on the other door’s yard digging up something. Curious, you put on a coat and exited the backdoor to check on it. The same Yuta, covered in blood, and this time you knew you weren’t dreaming. 

“Yuta?” You called but he kept digging. Blood mixed with the soil and the most horrible thing you can see, limbs. “Yuta.” You called once again, even holding his shoulder to make him look at you. He kept covering the body with the soil, even covering it up with a large pot. What has he done? This isn’t the Yuta you know and it scared you. 

“Y/N.” He called that made you look at him. The warmth of his voice is still there. “Help me, please.” He sounded broken. “I’m really scared.” The first time you saw this reaction on Yuta. He looks so fragile, so vulnerable. 

There’s a part of you that’s still wary of him. You have questions in your head that you wanted to ask him and you waited for him to finish his shower, while you make coffee for both of you, as you collect your thoughts. When he sat in front of you at the kitchen table, he looked like the Yuta you knew except there’s pain in his eyes. “Yuta.” You called, rubbing the side of your cup. “What…?” But you don’t know what to ask him. 

“I killed Miss Jang.” Your eyes widened in surprise. The assistant PE teacher? “We had amazing sex and then…” You shook your head. He had sex with a teacher? Wow, his man whoring is of another level. “You don’t understand, she’s been touching me appropriately for the past couple of months so I just gave her what she wanted.” 

A gasp escaped your throat. “She’s what?” He just stared at you. “Why didn’t you tell anyone?”

“Do you think someone would believe me?” 

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

He shook his head. “Because it’s embarrassing.” You scoffed then rolled your eyes at him. “So you killed her?” 

“I ate her.” 

“Yuta, I don’t need the details of your sexcapades…”

“I ate her organs.” Your eyes widened in surprise. What? “It’s a craving after having sex with someone. I just want to eat something raw and her flesh can’t even satisfy me.” That explains why he’s covered with blood. 

The memory of that night came to you, when he was eating that raw meat from the fridge. “When did it start?” He answered last night and you were more surprised that it is true and not a dream. “How?” He shrugged. “What do you plan to do now?” 

“I don’t know.” He held your hand that was on the table, looking at you with pleading eyes. “Help me, please. I don’t want to kill another woman again.” You sighed. This was Yuta. Your childhood friend. The guy you like. You nodded before thinking how stupid it is to do this. 

The news of Miss Jang being missing is the talk in your class the next day but what’s more surprising is some testimony of the guys who were molested by her, like Yuta. You watched as your friend fiddled with his thumbs, obviously listening to your classmates. He actually did them a favor but something isn’t right. Why is this happening to Yuta? 

A sexual thirst, a thirst for flesh. Your phone showed a result called an incubus, a demon that pursues sexual relations with women. But why does Yuta keep on eating flesh to satisfy his craving? You stood up and decided to ditch class just to have the answers to your questions, finding yourself in the back of the library. The collection of forbidden books.  

“What are you doing here?” You immediately hushed Yuta as you got hold of a black book, opening it to reveal different pentagrams and illustrations of spooky creatures. “What is that?” 

“An incubus.” You said then sat on the library floor, Yuta following you. “Demons who attract women for sexual pleasure.” Before he could say anything else, “I think that was what is happening to you.” 

You visibly saw him gulp. “You think I’m a demon?” No, you don’t. 

“Possessed by a demon, Yuta.” You flipped the pages of the book to see about the different rituals on how to summon a demon. “Did you join a cult? Or even got drugged and was offered as a human sacrifice?” You stopped. That night. That girl. “The goth girl, you saw her that night. Do you remember what happened?” 

“We had sex.” You rolled your eyes at that, of course. “I told her I’m a virgin because she likes guys like that. We had amazing sex, mind-blowing sex.” You sighed. “Then I woke up on your kitchen floor.” That’s all he remembers? Finally, your thoughts are confirmed, it isn’t a dream. You really saw Yuta that night. “You were lying on the ground as well and I had to remove my shirt before carrying you to your room.” 

The thought of the shirtless Yuta carrying you made the blood rose up your cheeks. “You were covered in blood that time and the trail…”

“I had to clean that up before you wake up because you’re scared of blood.” You stared at him warmly. He had to think about that? “You saw me?” You nodded, sharing that he was eating that raw meat when you saw him. “Did I scare you?” If there was one person you cannot lie to, that would be Yuta. He can easily see through you. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I won’t hurt you, I promise that.”

You held his hand, giving it a light squeeze. “I’ll help you, Yuta. We can remove that demon inside you.”

The only conclusion you can come up with is to meet with the same goth girl he met before. Yuta remembered having sex with her and he was eating that raw meat as if really hungry so she might be alive, Yuta didn’t kill her. And you have to hurry because each night that passes, Yuta has someone to bury in the backyard. It's a female prostitute one night, then a drug pusher, followed by the girl in class who bullied you. 

It's becoming a huge issue in town, the disappearance of young girls, that your parents had to come home quickly worried about your safety. "From now on, go home early." Your dad ordered. "I'll ask Yuta to walk you home every day." How would they feel if Yuta was the one doing all these? 

He was worried about you joining him in meeting up with the girl, even repeating to you that he'll kill himself if something bad happens to you but you assured him that you'll be fine. It's not you who needed help now, it was him. You need to put a stop to this before another one gets hurt. 

The girl was laughing cynically when you asked her what to do to remove the demon inside your friend. "A cambion." She answered and you curiously gave her a look. "That's the goal of an incubus. Once there's a cambion, he will leave the body he's possessing." 

A cambion? All you need is to have a cambion so the demon can leave Yuta. You searched what it was and just facepalmed yourself. Fuck this! Will he be saved? 

----

"You want me to breed someone?" You shiver at his choice of words but nod, nonetheless. "How can I do that when eating them becomes part of the sexual process?" 

You shook your head then ruffled your hair. This is getting you crazy. "You know, this is your fault for whoring around. If you just had a fixed girlfriend then this wouldn't happen…" 

"Then why did you reject my confession?" You blinked twice as if it can clear what you heard. Did you hear him correctly? "I told you I'll marry you in senior year and what is your answer? I'm not marrying you, Yuta." He said while copying your voice, leaving you dumbfounded. "I was heartbroken that time so I started dating other girls then maybe you can finally notice me." 

"I thought you were teasing me that time." Your voice got louder that your mom knocked on the door asking if you two were fighting. He shook his head, smiling at your mom. When she closed the door, you just stared at him awkwardly. Once again, you had to ruffle your hair. This is so frustrating! "Just, make a baby with someone." 

You waited, biting your thumb as the clock struck 3 am. You haven't had the right sleep thinking of what might happen to Yuta then you saw movement in the yard. Quietly, you went out of the backdoor of your house and saw him outside, blood on his clothes. "What happened?" 

He shook his head. "Same." 

"Where is her body?" You removed your cardigan to wipe away the blood from his face and his neck. 

He looks tired, hopeless. "I left her body on a roadside." You gasped at that. "I can't save myself. I'll be like this forever." He can't, he needed to fight himself. Fight his urges. But even you knew that it was impossible. 

There was a flicker of light coming from their kitchen, someone was going to see you. They're going to see Yuta with a bloody shirt like this. "Remove your shirt." You ordered and he looked confused so you just ripped it from him. Shit, you just realized how this looked like when two booming voices can be heard calling both your names. Both your dads. 

"Where is your shirt?" Your dad asked, arms crossed. You're inside your house, both your fathers and mothers staring at the two of you. "And you're wearing only that outside?" You glanced at the thin nightgown you were wearing and Yuta handed you a throw pillow. "Please wear your shirt, Yuta." 

"I ripped his shirt, dad." You heard both your moms giggle. "Can we please not make a big deal of this? This isn't what you think it is." 

Yuta's dad sighed. "Our only concern is why bother doing it outside? We let you sleep in each other's room." What? 

"Are you exhibitionists?" Your mom asked and you gasped. Is that what they're thinking now? Your head aches, you didn't have any decent sleep yet and this ordeal with Yuta is making you lose your mind. Can't you just all talk tomorrow, not at 4 in the morning? 

Yuta held your hand, lacing your fingers together. "I'm willing to take responsibility if something happens to Y/N." Surprised, you glanced at him. Nothing happened, he knew that. What the hell is he saying so suddenly? "But can I please stay with Y/N tonight, uncle?" 

It was a surprise when your dad allowed you both to go upstairs to your room but you had to wait until they're in their rooms before getting your cardigan and Yuta's blood-stained clothes from the yard. Yuta was still seated on your bed when you went back to your room, staring at you with his misty eyes. 

He pulled you close, arms wrapped around your waist while his head was on your chest. "I'm scared." His hold got tighter. "I don't want to hurt anyone anymore." If you're frustrated with this, you realized Yuta might be in bigger pain than you are. You held his hair, threading your fingers along its strand. You've been together for so long but this has been the most intimate thing that you two had ever done. "You were right, this is my fault for hurting those girls. I used them for my self pleasure, to boost my ego. This is me getting punished for all of that." 

You held his hands, kneeling in front of him to see his face. "But you don't deserve this, Yuta." You held his cheeks as tears started falling from his eyes. "We'll do something, I promise." 

He pulled you up, letting you sit on his lap. The warmth of his eyes makes your heart beat rapidly inside your chest. "I love you, Y/N." Your eyes widened at the sudden confession, "I'm sorry for getting you dragged into this but I'm thankful you haven't left me yet." He hugged you, head on your shoulder and you can feel his warm breath on your neck. "I love you. I don't want you to leave me." 

You wrapped your arms around his neck. He's scared, you can feel him shaking. "I won't leave you, Yuta." You let him sob in your chest like a little child just wanting some warmth. And you realized, this might be just what he needed. 

Both of you skipped school that morning since you slept at 5 am, just laying next to each other. Your head on his chest, hands held together. It was him who first got out of bed, prepared himself, then placed a small kiss on our head before leaving your room. If only you could stay like this. But he had to go and fuck another woman tonight to satisfy his thirst, making your heart ache. Can you live like this? 

Your parents and Yuta were seated around the dining table when you went down for breakfast. "We were just telling Yuta that we have a business trip in Brazil." You nodded, used to it by now. "And because of the news around, it would be better that he stay here with you." Your mom suggested that it made you surprised. After last night, they're letting you live in one roof with a guy, unsupervised? 

"Mom. I can stay at home alone." 

"I know. But just to be safe." You're not even safe with their suggestion. "I know what you're thinking honey. You're a female and a male with raging hormones, it's alright with us." Yuta choked on the food and you hissed at your parents. 

Your dad coughed lightly. "We stacked some condoms just in case." 

"Dad!" 

"Honey, we agreed to let them have their freedom." You glared at your mom. "We really wanted a grandchild." It's your turn to choke at your food. Then it made you stop. If he breeds a human, the incubus will go away. This might just be your answer. 

---

"No, Y/N!" Yuta stated firmly after explaining what your plan is. "What if I hurt you?" 

You shook your head. You're not scared of that now but you're frightened for Yuta and the things that might happen to him if this continues on. The police started investigating the missing dead girls, it's only a matter of time before they can chase down Yuta. You held his cheeks, distress can be seen in his expression. "I trust you, Yuta." 

It was a crazy plan. When your parents left that afternoon, you stacked up some raw meat that the butcher thought you were throwing a party. Yuta didn't kill the first girl, the goth girl, and you're holding to that belief that Yuta can have some control over himself. When the night struck, you locked all doors to your house that would forbid Yuta from going out. 

"I'm giving you the last chance to back out from this, Y/N." You shook your head. "I'm sorry." He whispered, carrying you to the countertop of the kitchen. "If something bad happens, I'll kill myself. I swear." 

You giggled then wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. "Then we'll be like Romeo and Juliet." He laughed at your reference before moving closer to plant his lips on yours. Your first kiss with Yuta. His lips were so soft and he tasted so sweet that made your brain hazy. 

When he slipped his tongue inside you and his fingers dug on your waist, you knew there's no way you can get out of this. You can feel his warmth in every touch, in every part of your skin his lips touched. He slowly undressed you, making sure that he's still Yuta and whispering promises that he wouldn't hurt you. He didn't at first and you refused to believe that you made love with him at your kitchen counter. 

The grandfather clock signaled that it is midnight. Yuta just pulled you down from the kitchen counter, turning you around, and thrust into you that made you scream. No foreplay, no kissing. You turned to see his eyes, those dead eyes. His hand held your neck, the other digging in your waist. You prevent making a sound, not wanting to alert his parents next door. His teeth dig in your shoulder, an excruciating pain that makes you bite your lip to prevent a sound. This is how he kills them. 

You tried to reach for the raw meat nearby, desperately trying to move out of his hold. You pushed yourself away from the counter, causing him to fall to the ground. You watched as he took the meat and ate it as if starved, like the first night you saw him in this state. Every night, he's like this. An appetite for sex, an appetite for flesh. 

And it breaks your heart that you can't do anything to help him. 

He ate five portions of the raw meat and you mentally told yourself to get some tomorrow for what might happen at night. You covered him with a blanket as he lay down your kitchen floor, kissing his forehead. You wanted this to stop, wanted him to be normal again. You clean the wound on your shoulder as well as the scratch on your side, hissing in pain as you put medicine on the bleeding part. 

You woke up with his warm arms wrapped around you, a kiss on your wounded shoulder woke you up. "Did I do this? I really did hurt you." He grazed his finger on the spot that hurt as you shook your head. He nuzzled his nose on your shoulder and you felt his warmth. "I don't know what to do anymore." 

"But Yuta this is better. We know that you still have control over yourself." You sat on the bed and he traced the scratch on your side. "When the clock struck twelve, that's when you started having that hunger. We're slowly knowing things about you now. We can do this together, Yuta." 

He nodded, watching you stand up then head to the bathroom. You were supposed to close the door when you felt him enter the same room. The warm feeling is back when his hands touch your body, in contrast to the cold water cascading down your body. You skipped class again because of the pain in your shoulder and he went to school. 

If this continues, it's better to listen to both your parents and just get married. Live together in a far city where you can start a new life, maybe you can give birth to Yuta's child and it will end his suffering. As you put new meat inside the fridge, you heard a knock on the door. Yuta came in with a distressed look on his face. "The police are at school. They were starting to suspect a student at school." 

"Did you do anything?" He shook his head, hands clasped together. "Just lay low for a while." 

"What if they found out that it was me?" You shook your head, that's the worst-case scenario. And you promise not to let that happen. 

He stayed at your house, particularly your room that night. When the clock struck twelve, you were pushed on your bed with Yuta pounding on you real rough. The moment you felt his lips on your neck, you rolled to the bed and reached for the raw meat on the bedside table. You breathed hard, you can do this. 

The police were doing their best, you had to give them that. And it scares you that they'll narrow it down to you and Yuta doing these things. The disappearance of the women stopped but the deaths were a mystery that the police remained to look for clues. It's been a couple of nights since you've done this with Yuta and every day, a new wound would appear on your body. 

Your parents came back from their business trip when they noticed the amount of raw meat in your fridge and the wounds in your body. You tried to shrug it off, saying that it's just your clumsiness. Yet, they never bought it. You cannot ask Yuta to stay over so you keep your phone in your ear, watching his room for movements. The moment the clock struck midnight, nothing happened to your surprise. He kept saying that he's fine, that he doesn't need anything, that he's still Yuta. Maybe an off day.

You slept relieved but woke up with the sound of police sirens. You glanced at the window outside and saw the yard next door being dug out by your dad and some men in uniform, Yuta's dad watching nearby. How? You ran downstairs to check on Yuta but your mom quickly told you to stay inside. "We're sorry, we trusted you to a murderer." 

"He's not." You shouted trying to see from the window. Yuta was handcuffed, a large man holding him in place. He shook his head when your eyes met and the sight of rotten decaying bones caught your attention. 

Your stomach churned and you vomited on the kitchen sink, your mom helping you by rubbing your back. "He's such a sweet child. What happened to Yuta?" Your mom asked and you itched to tell her that it's not him. A devil inside him.

Your eyes widened at the realization. Nothing happened last night. Now, you're having this weird feeling in your body. A cambion. And you felt yourself fainting at that information.  

---

It's been years, seven years to be exact when that moment happened to your life. Yuta's parents moved to a different town but you still see them from time to time, as well as your parents. When they found out that you were pregnant with Yuta's child, they immediately sent you away to give birth abroad. Your son was three when you went back to the country and introduced him to his dad. 

"Daddy!" Your son cheered seeing his dad walking outside the huge gates of the visitor's area. The older was grinning wide, carrying his son to where you are. He kissed you on your forehead and your son giggled, "Daddy, mommy said I can go to a big school this year." He nodded, letting the young boy sat on his lap. "Grandma and grandpa are going to buy me my bag." 

Yuta giggled and you noticed how the two looked very much alike. It was the exact reason why your parents warmed up on Yuta and let you introduce your son to him. "I'm sorry. But when dad gets out of here, I'm going to pick you up from school every day." 

You can feel your eyes water at that. The younger boy wrapped his arms around his neck, "When are you getting out of here?" You both sighed. It's always his question. 

"Just another three years, then we can be together." There's a lot of pain in his words. "You and mommy can wait for me, right?" Your son nodded. 

He reached out to hold your hand that was above the table. You nodded at him. You waited this long, another three years wouldn't hurt. He engaged in another conversation with the younger boy and you gazed at him, he looks better than the first few years he's here. 

"Time to get back, Nakamoto." The police officer said and your son hugged his father's neck, refusing to let go of him. 

This has always been a problem every time you visit Yuta. "Honey, we have to go. Daddy has to get back." You said quietly, taking him from Yuta. Your son glared at the big man behind his dad and he just turned his head to look at the wall. "Honey, let's get ice cream." You said quickly and the younger smiled at you. The guard turned around, asking what happened that his head was hurting. 

Yuta gave you a worried look but you just shook your head, putting sunglasses on your son. "Say bye to daddy." You whispered and he obeyed you. "I'll come to visit you soon." 

He kissed you on the forehead, "I'm sorry." Again. you shook your head. No one warned you about having a cambion and the risk it takes to be its parents. "I love you." But right now, your son and Yuta are the most important people in your life. 

"I love you, too." And you're willing to throw everything in the past just to be happy with your small family. 

#yuta #yuta nakamoto #nakamoto yuta #yuta horror #horror au #nct horror #nct 127 horror #yuta nakamoto horror #nakamoto yuta horror #nct 127 yuta horror #nct 127 yuta

[adventuresinwonderlust]

Title: Caution to the Wind

Pairing: yoongi x reader  

Warnings: fluff, angst, tension, first kiss, solo masturbation (f), mentions of erections, mentions of virginity and losing it (friendship pact)

*AUTHORS NOTE: Warnings will update per chapter as things get steamier*

Permanent Tag List: @mochilicious-yoongi​  @heyimtavia​

Rating: 18 and over

January:

This was fine. You were fine. Min Yoongi was NOT your boyfriend. He was your childhood friend, who you experienced your first everything with. You both new that your fun experiments were all in preparation for this moment right here, a college party. You swallowed back the amber liquid in your cup, watching him laugh and flirt with a random girl who wasn’t you. You nodded to yourself and turned away. The sting of tears burning, so desperate to reveal themselves. You’re fine! You kept telling yourself. You look over at him again to see the girl tugging at the lapel of his flannel shirt. You squeal internally, dying inside, wanting so badly to interrupt. You promised each other you wouldn’t let feelings get involved. You would only fool around so not to be the only virgins at college but this, this was so hard. You drop your red solo cup on a side table and walk over to him. “I’m headed back to the dorms ok. Have fun.” You nod and walk off past him. You sniffle back the tears that threaten once again. How did you get here? How did this happen? Fucking morning wood that’s how! You think back, racing out of the frat house to hail a cab.

June:

It was normal for you and Yoongi to sleep over each other's houses. Although you were both normally at your place since your mom was laxer. You had both fallen asleep watching a movie, the sun rise now peeking through your curtains. You grumbled, rolling over to find Yoongi lying on his back, soft snores escaping his slightly parted lips. You waved your hand over his face to see if he was really sleeping or just pretending. No movement. You smile to yourself, enjoying watching your best friend sleep. The angelic way he looked, the calm way his chest moved up and down, how he rested his hand on his tummy. You shifted the covers down from your over warm bodies, running your hand over his, gasping to yourself at the sight of his erection. You looked up at his face again and find him still fast asleep. You had heard of morning wood before. Your female friends had talked about it. They said it was a natural, normal reaction men had. Some of them even told you it was the best erection to have sex with. You swallow back the lustful lump in your throat, waving your hand over his face again. No movement.

You bite your lower lip, your hand hovering over his morning wood, desperate to touch it. Yoongi suddenly takes in a deep breath rolling away from you and nuzzling into the pillow. You release the breath you had been holding, turning your back to him, tucking a pillow between your legs. You gently and carefully begin to hump it, tucking your lips into your teeth to hold back your moans. That’s when that warm feeling begins to build, fireworks soon exploding in your brain. You can’t help but whimper, soft cries leaving your now open mouth. You still, your high dissipating, gasping when Yoongi rolls over and wraps his arm around your waist. “Shh. It’s ok Y/N, you're just having a nightmare. I’m here with you.” He mumbles into your ear, his soft snores soon following. You rest your arm over his, intertwining your fingers, falling back to sleep.  

A few hours later, you make your way down to your kitchen to find your mother and Yoongi deep in conversation. “Good morning Y/N,” Your mother greets, “How’d you sleep?” “She had a nightmare last night.” Yoongi chuckles, sipping his coffee. “I did not.” You scoff, grabbing a mug. “You did so, you should’ve heard her Ms. Y/L/N whimpering like a puppy. It was cute.” Your mother rubs your shoulder while your face turns beet red. “You having nightmares sweetheart?” “I’m fine mom. Yoongi’s just teasing me like always.” “Well, you two, time to buckle down and get some dorm shopping done. I’m really excited about you two going off and having the whole college experience. I’ll come by after work and pick you both up and we can head to Ikea. Yes?” You both nod, your mother kissing your head as she heads out. “Yoongi call your parents and let them know you’re here please, so they don’t freak. Have a good day and don’t spend it all on the couch!” She hollers back at you both.

“Why did you lie about having a nightmare?” Yoongi asks, eyeing you suspiciously. “Maybe because I didn’t have one.” “I heard you.” “You misheard.” “I didn’t mishear anything. You were practically crying in your sleep.” “I was not. So, drop it.” “Look you even woke up grumpy. It’s ok to have nightmares. We all do sometimes. It’s normal. That’s what you get honestly for watching those stupid horror films.” “Yoongi, please, just shush.” “OK grumpy.” He smiles, sipping his coffee. “What do you want to grab at Ikea today?” You ask him, taking a seat at the table with him, coffee and toast in tow. “You know they say stress can cause nightmares. Are you stressed about moving out of your moms house and into the dorms?” “I didn’t have a nightmare ok! I was masturbating! Now will you just lay off me!” You finally shout. “I knew it! I knew I felt you humping! Oh my God, you dirty little birdie! With me in the bed!” Yoongi starts laughing, holding his tummy. “Shut up ok,” you shout, tossing a corner of your toast at him, “if it wasn’t for your morning wood, I wouldn’t have gotten so worked up.” You word vomit, covering your mouth immediately in shock. Yoongi stills across from you, his eyes wide.  

“Are you saying... I… made you… horny?” Yoongi inquires confused. “More like your dick ok, so don’t get all worked up and full of yourself.” You snip, sipping your coffee to keep the flush in your cheeks from becoming visible. Yoongi smiles wide, his gums exposed before giving you a shit eating grin. “Hey, it happens right? I mean we’ve been friends since we were kids. We sleep in the same bed. We were bound to rub against one another at some point. I’d be lying if I said I never rubbed one out after you shoved your ass into me.” He shrugs. “Really?” “Yeah. You’re a beautiful girl. Any guy would react the same.” He smiles. “Except no guy ever has which is why I am going to go to college a complete virgin!” You huff. “Who cares? I’m going to college a complete virgin also, it's not a big deal.” “You’re a guy. It's different for you.” “How so?” “Guys think of taking a girls virginity as some sick conquest. There’s no care or concern towards their feelings. Girls aren't the same with guys. We find it endearing when a guy is still a virgin.” “Yeah right! Girls think a guy is an inexperienced loser if he’s still a virgin.” “Well, if we are still virgins when we hit our second year, let's just sleep together and put each other out of this misery.” You laugh, standing to bring your dirty dishes to the sink. “That’s really funny. I may hold you to that! I'm going to shower.” Yoongi declares, standing and hurrying off to the bedroom.  

You both spend the day lounging, watching TV, and making shopping lists for your Ikea trip. By the time your mother arrives back home, Yoongi is fast asleep on the couch. “Long day?” She asks, nodding at your curled up bestie. “Too much dorm planning.” You reply, nudging him gently. He peeks at you with one eye, soon stretching his whole body. “Is your mom home?” He inquires. “I am. Now let’s get a move on. I wanna avoid traffic.” Yoongi pops up quickly and you all head out. “Are your parents sad to have you moving into the dorms?” Your mom asks Yoongi. “Well, I practically live at your place, so I imagine it’s no different for them.” He chuckles. “I don’t think his parents notice he’s gone.” You chime in. “Of course they do Y/N. We parents notice everything. Maybe we don’t say it out loud, but we notice.” Yoongi just nods, deciding not to give input. You know the truth; his parents are strict. They never cared for his interest in music and were not happy to find out he was pursuing it full time in college. They hadn’t been speaking for a while, but it didn’t bother Yoongi much. He just breezed by counting the time till move day.  

When you all arrive at Ikea you immediately suggest separate carts, knowing you’re going to fill one up with everything you have in mind. You decide to separate and browse and then meet somewhere in the middle. Yoongi heads off on his own while you and your mom walk through the aisles. “So, how’s he holding up?” She whispers to you. “He’s good. You know Yoongi, he’s super private sometimes. He seems good, normal even. Like nothing is going on at home.” “He’s been at the house a lot. I was worried they kicked him out.” “God no! He just prefers our place.” “Ok, just wondering. Speaking of an inquiring mind. Have you two ever? I mean you’d tell me, right?” “Mom! He’s my best friend!!” “Okay. Okay. I was just asking. It’s not a big deal if you have. I just wanted to know.” “Mom, please. Just stop.” “Ok. OK. Let’s move on. Oh, look at the throws. I love them. What do you think?” “They are nice, but I have so many already.” Two hours pass before you are all done with your shopping, but you feel comfortable with your purchases. “How’d you fair?” You ask Yoongi when you all link up again. “Good. You?” “Really good!” You walk over to the registers and your mom ushers both carts to the check out. “Oh no! Please Ms. Y/L/N, I’ll pay for it.” Yoongi begs, watching your mother wave him away. “My gift to you for making it into college.” She smiles, swiping her card. Yoongi sighs, giving you a pained look. “I’ll pay her back.” “Oh hush. You know she doesn’t mind. She loves you Yoons. Just smile and say thank you.” He nods, walking over and hugging your mother from behind. “Oh! You’re welcome Yoongi.”

“Do you wanna stay at my place tonight? My parents want me to come home. I’d enjoy your company.” Yoongi asks you in the car, showing you a text from his mom. “Yeah sure.” He smiles, chewing at his fingers nervously. “Mom can you drop us off at Yoongi’s tonight?” “No problem.” You head home and drop off all your things, packing an overnight bag quickly and hopping back into the car to Yoongi’s house. You mother waves you off and you both head inside. Yoongi’s mother is in the kitchen prepping for dinner. She looks up briefly at you both, giving you a small smile, that drops when she locks eyes with Yoongi. She nods at him, then turns to go back to what she was doing. “You head up. I’m just going to talk to her.” Yoongi whispers. You nod and take your bag and some of the things Yoongi bought up to his room. You sit on his bed and begin to scroll through your phone when you hear them begin to yell at one another. Your heart pounds in your chest and you move towards the door. She calls him selfish for choosing music over something more sustainable. Then they switch to speaking in Korean. You sigh, feeling your heart break for Yoongi.  

You plop down on his bed, hearing his footsteps stomp away at the stairs as he makes his way up to the room. He slams the door when he enters causing you to jump. You drop you phone beside you and look up at him. “Hey you ok?” He shakes his head, making his way toward you. You outstretched your arms, and he falls into your embrace, wrapping his arms around your body. He rests his head on your chest and you run your fingers through his hair. “I’m sorry Yoons. I wish she was more understanding.” “It’s almost over. I’m almost free.” He sniffles. It pains you to see him this way and you wish you had more than words for him.  

Before you know it, you are awoken to the sound of Yoongi playing music from his laptop. You stretch your body and look over at him. “What time is it? When did I pass out?” “It’s 3am. Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.” “It’s ok. How are you feeling?” “I’m fine. Sorry you had to listen to us fight.” “Please, don’t apologize! How many times have you been around for my mom and I fighting?” He laughs with a small nod. “Still, it’s rude,” He whispers, “Anyway, I was thinking. About what you said earlier. And I… uh… well… we should. Just do it you know.” Your brow furrows trying to decipher what Yoongi is talking about. “Do what Yoons?” “Be each other’s first…. well…. everything. We’ve known each other forever and we trust each other. I think we should get all the awkward stuff out of the way before we start college that way there's no need to worry when we meet people.” Your eyes pop open as you realize Yoongi is asking you to be his first. “Um, I was kidding.” You blurt out nervously. “I mean, I know at first but maybe it can be for real. No strings attached Y/N. We take it slow, one thing at a time and if it's super weird then we stop.” “It’s going to be weird Yoongi, we are like siblings!” You shout. “Get the fuck out of here! We are not! You literally masturbated to my hard on this morning, please tell me how many siblings do that? Ok, look, just forget I said anything. I'm sorry.” He huffs, putting his headphones back on and turning up his music. You sigh, lying back, mulling the idea over in your head. He is right, you trust him more than any random guy you'd ever meet. It isn't like Yoongi wasn’t hot, you just never thought he would take your offer serious. You turn on your side watching him shake his leg frantically. You wave your hand to get his attention. He looks over at you, tugging his headphones off. “Why don't you come lie down? You can tell me more about the arraignment you had in mind.” He stares at you, completely stoic, before closing his laptop. “We don't have to do anything. I was just, I don't know, overthinking. It was stupid.” He shrugs. You simply tap the bed beside you.  

He sighs, pushing away from the desk to make his way to the bed. He lies down facing you, taking your hand in his. You both stare at each other for a minute and you feel your heart flutter. “Kiss me.” You whisper, your body heating from the instant turn on mixed with embarrassment. “What?” He chuckles. “Maybe your idea isn't as crazy as it sounds. I trust you more than anyone. We can start small and work our way up based on how we feel. If it gets weird or uncomfortable then we stop. No strings attached. No emotional involvement. Just two friends helping each other out.” You state plainly, staring at your intertwined hands rather than Yoongi's wide eyes. “You’re serious?” He swallows, his cheeks reddening. “Yeah, only if you want to.” “I mean, yeah, if you want to, I do.” He shyly responds. “Then stop talking and kiss me. We'll start there. We can be each other’s first kiss.” You don’t know why but you both instinctively lick your lips. Yoongi looks down at your mouth, seemingly mesmerized. He swallows hard, the bounce of his Adam's apple making your core burn.  

“Here goes nothing.” He smiles, leaning towards you, the smell of his body wash invading your senses. He licks his lips again, rubbing them together right before he presses them gently against yours. You immediately melt into the kiss, your head prickling, heart racing, and it takes you a minute to close your eyes as Yoongi has. Your mind begins to race. How long do we stay like this? Should I pull away? Why does this feel so good? Is he enjoying it? You finally pull away, eyeing Yoongi’s calm face, his eyes still closed as if in a state of bliss. “What? I mean, was it ok?” You ask. He nods. “I was just savoring it. My first kiss.” He chuckles. “Do we keep going?” You ask nervously. His eyes widen. “Do you want to?” “Is that weird?” He shakes his head quickly. “No, I kind of want to also.” This time you lean forward and press your lips to his, raising your hand up to rest at his neck. You think of every movie you’ve ever seen and push your tongue out of your mouth, rubbing it against his lower lip. You swear you feel it right between your thighs, moaning at the sensation. Yoongi moans as well, opening his mouth to grant you access.  

You press your tongue against his, realizing that you have no clue what to do next but are completely unable to stop. It’s then that Yoongi impresses you, completely taking over the kiss. He tilts his head a bit, rotating his tongue slowly around yours before removing his appendage from your mouth to suckle on your top lip. Just when you think you have a moment to breathe, he returns his tongue to your mouth, swirling faster, making what can only be described as love to your mouth. You can't stop the soft moans leaving your throat, or how the way Yoongi devours them has you completely soaked. Of all the times you’ve ever touched yourself, you don’t think you’ve ever been as wet as you are now. Curiosity takes over and you reach your hand down from Yoongi’s neck to the front of his pajama pants, dying to see if he is at all affected by this. You pull away from the kiss with a gasp at the feel of his massive erection. “I’m sorry.” You pant, embarrassed that you just grabbed at his hard on. “It's ok Y/N, you can touch it if you want.” He grants in a low lustful tone you’ve never heard before. You heart begins to race and panic hits. “Maybe it's too much. Maybe we should chill for now.” You say quickly, placing your hand flat on his chest.  

He nods at your statement, lowering his hand to adjust himself. “I’m sorry. Of course, we can stop. I want to go at your pace. I don’t want to freak you out or make you uncomfortable ever.” “Thank you Yoongi. Honestly, I really enjoyed the kissing. I just want to take our time. It’s my fault I shouldn’t have reached for you.” “Don't apologize. Its ok. I'm ok. I want to go slow too.” He plants a gentle kiss on your forehead, and you breathe a sigh of relief. “Let’s get some sleep.” He whispers, pulling a pillow down from the top of the bed to rest in his lap before pulling you into his arms. “Safety first.” He teases and you both laugh out loud. You bite your lower lip to keep from squealing like a little kid. Your first kiss and who better to have it with then Yoongi. You nuzzle softly into your pillow, whispering goodnight to Yoongi before falling asleep in his arms.  

#bts smut #yoongi fluff #yoongi smut #suga x reader #suga x you

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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

[imaginesupply]

Homecoming - Chapter One

Chapter Two can be found here

(Gif’s not my own.)

Summary: The day has arrived, Captain Syverson is going home. For good, this time. He is going home to a civilian life he can hardly remember and a wife he barely knows, with memories of the war still fresh on his mind. Love might not be able to heal everything on its own, but it’s a good start.

Genres: Romance, drama.

Story warnings: Smut (always fully consensual), mentions of PTSD and nightmares and mental health, angst, hurt and comfort, fluff, mentions of war (minor), mentions of cheating (minor), mentions of pregnancy (very minor), police appearance (very minor), violence (very minor).

Notes:

It’s my first time writing for one of Henry’s characters and I’m unsure I did Sy’s character any justice.

This is a Capt. Syverson x OFC (Ada) story, written in 3rd person POV but OFC’s physical description is very limited so it could also be read as Capt. Syverson x Reader, I think.

English is not my first language, so there might be some mistakes. Proofread, but not beta’ed. We die like men and all that.

Timeline is a little wacky: The movie takes place in 2003 and the U.S. forces were withdrawn from Iraq in 2011, but I never set a precise date because I don’t think it’s essential for this story. However, some elements might not be realistic because if we set this story in 2003: Phone cameras  quality was not as good as it’s now, but for the purpose of the chapters, I will need you to imagine you could film great videos with your flip phone haha. Plus, it says Sy is coming back after being deployed for more than three years which makes no sense unless we set this in 2006 or later. I am asking you disregard any time inconsistencies 

Also: I am not American. I only lived in the US for six months and it was in the Midwest, not Texas so please bear with me if I write something stupid.

Finally: This is pretty much a Christmas fic and I intend to post the last chapter (there will be seven in total) on or before Christmas. However, religion is never mentioned in this story and the Christmas-sy elements of this story are limited to family gathering, gift giving and tree decorating.

Chapter One starts after the cut. Let me know if you wish to be tagged in the new chapters.

Chapter One

Chapter warnings: Badly written smut (consensual), marriage awkwardness, alcohol consumption. Maybe OOC Sy, I don’t know. We never saw him being casual.

Sy checked his phone again as he waited for his bag by the baggage carousel. The airport was even busier than usual, it was taking ages and he was impatient to get out of there... and maybe even never set foot in an airport again for the rest of his life.

He read her text again, short and sweet. He sometimes called her that, short and sweet, just to tease her. Ada was considerably shorter than him and full of sugar, when she wanted to be, that was.

'I'm waiting by the gate for you, with a warm cinnabon :) So excited to see you again <3.'

Just then a notification popped up from Harper. It was a photo of the soldier at the airport, finally reunited with his wife and his two rugrats. It made Sy all the more excited to see Ada again, and then as if on cue, his camo bag appeared in the carousel and he groaned with relief.

He stood restless amidst the line, it seemed people in front of him were dragging their feet, but when they noticed his green beret uniform, most parted and let him through. Sy tipped his head gratefully.  

His wife was there, just outside the gate. Sy spotted her instantly in the crowd of people. She was wearing a red dress under her open coat and her hair looked fresh out of the hairdresser. He caught himself grinning at the sight of her. Then, once she spotted him making his way over to her, she started waving her hand excitedly as if there was any way his eyes hadn't already landed on her. He wished he still had his phone in hand to capture this moment for all of eternity, but his memory would have to do, he decided before casting his arms open for his wife. Fuck, did he love her!

°°°

Ada had been biting her nails nervously for the past two hours. She had arrived at the airport way too early. The parking fee would hurt but she couldn't find it in herself to care at this point.

Three weeks ago, she had received a call informing her that her husband and part of his unit had been ambushed. There had been an explosion in some building they were scouting only God knows where.

Only a full week after that did she receive a call from Sy himself. He was coming home. For good, this time. They were sending him home early, a full eight months earlier than what he had originally negotiated with his superiors. She hadn't been prepared for the news. She had spent the days following the call asking herself whether she had heard him right, making sure her mind wasn't playing tricks on her.

Now he was here, stopping right in front of her, his thick arms inviting her right in for a hug. Ada wouldn't have been able to resist the invitation even if she had wanted to. Within a second, she was enveloped in his embrace, her cheek pressed against his chest. She was overjoyed to feel his heartbeat again. Sy kisses the crown of her head before putting her down, his hands never leaving her lower back, his fingers big enough to reach the swell of her bum from there.

They pulled away a few inches to take each other in. His beard has grown a little long, but it was not enough to hide his apparent dimples as he smiled. He looked a little older too, she hadn't seen in seven months, except through a shitty quality facetime call once or twice. Her careful gaze spotted the new scar by his temple, it was the only visible physical evidence of the explosion he had been caught in. She dreaded what she might under his uniform.

Sy caught her eyes and she found herself blushing under his stare. It was always like that the first few hours when he was back, until she got used to his overwhelming presence again and to the fact that this handsome bear of a man was indeed her husband.

"You're looking good, darlin'," Sy grinned, making her spin for him. "I missed you."

Ada couldn’t resist his smile. "I missed you too, Sy." She confessed, handing him the still warm cinnamon roll in its paper bag.

He accepted the pastry with a smile and started eating it immediately but not before throwing his arm around her shoulders as they began making their way to the parking lot. Sy was eager to get her out of the crowd and have her just to him himself.

"So, what's the plan, darlin'?" Sy inquired with mischief to his voice, balling up the paper bag with his free hand and throwing it inside the trash can. "Did you book that hotel with the jacuzzi in the bedroom again?"

It had become a tradition of some sort between them. They would always spend his first night back at that hotel: they'd order some room service and eat in the jacuzzi. Though, usually, they would first end up on together on the bed.

Ada stopped suddenly in her tracks, making him still behind her. She smiled sheepishly. "Don't be mad," she started, his smile falling at once, "but your family is waiting for us in the parking lot. Your mom insisted that we celebrate your homecoming at the restaurant. Something about you missing Thanksgiving just by a couple days."

Sy groaned, thinking about the evening that now expected him. He'd been flying for God knows how many hours, all he wanted was a warm bath and Ada whichever way she'd let him have her, not a damn dinner party.

"I'm sorry, Sy."

He shook his head and leaned down to kiss her forehead again. "Don't worry, darlin'. I know it ain’t your fault."

As soon as they reached the open-air parking lot, Sy's nephew and niece start running up to him, having escaped their parents' grasp. His family was waiting for him with cheers and a 'welcome home, soldier' banner. Sy hated that kind of attention and she found it cringy as well, but she had been unable to stop his mother. Ada watched him hug the kids and lift them up into the air, making them laugh as she walked up to the machine to pay the fee.

Her hand trembled as she inserted the ticket into the slot, missing the opening a few times. She was happy - no, scratch that - she was ecstatic to have her husband back. It's just that, could you really say 'back' when there was never truly a 'before', a 'there'?

They had met when he was already deployed, but on a short leave back in Austin. They spent three weeks together, got married and he returned to Iraq. Since then, the longest stretch of time they had been together had been twenty days. Neither of them had ever gotten settled into married life and now he was 'back'. For good. Which was wonderful and foreign and overwhelming all at once.

Ada paid the fee and returned to join them, finding Sy hugging his mother. She smiled at the sight. She walked over to greet her sister-in-law and her husband, confirming that they'd meet up at the restaurant. With that, she went to the car, deciding to give Sy some more time with his family, and herself an occasion to take a few breaths and calm her buzzing heart.

"You didn't tell me my mom had gotten herself a boyfriend." Sy grumbled immediately as he sat down next to her in the car, putting on his seatbelt.

Ada turned on the engine and backed out of the spot. "I knew you wouldn't like it," she defended before casting a side glance at him. "Besides, I figured it wasn't my place to tell you."

Sy hummed noncommittally, removing his cap to rake his hand through his cropped hair.

"Though, as much as I don't exactly like your mother," Ada added quietly, "she's been on her own ever since your dad passed a couple years ago. With your father gone and you away, she must have felt lonely.”

°°°

Sy spent the rest of the drive mulling over her words in his head. The fuck was that supposed to mean? As soon as a woman feels lonely, she takes up a boyfriend?! Was Ada lonely too while he was away and… He wanted to ask if she was implying anything but then one look at her and he decided against it. Breathing out deeply, he forces himself to relax. He was just stressed out and on edge.

It was inevitable that things would have changed while he had been away. That was something he thought about frequently late at night when he got to be alone. Still, he hoped things hadn’t changed all too much. Ada still looked just as she had on their road trip to Vegas, focused on the road but leaning back on her seat, just one hand on the wheel with a grin on her lips. His wife loved driving.

"You got your nails done." Sy commented, already hoping the whole dinner thing would be over quickly so that he could go home with her.

Ada turned to him with a chuckle for a second, wriggling her graceful fingers and red painted nails, her wedding band reflecting the light. "I wanted to look pretty for you."

Sy huffed. "You always look pretty to me, Ada," he said and then watched her scoff.

"Or maybe, I just wanted to make sure I'd be able to scratch you up nicely," she wife winked.

Yeah, this dinner thing couldn't be over fast enough.

°°°

Ada saw him eat so much over dinner, she couldn’t help but wonder if he was going to be sick later. And, of course, the double serving of smoked ribs had to be accompanied with generous amounts of beer and whisky. She didn0t blame him, though. Out of curiosity, she once researched what they ate while on deployment and it looked anything but tasty. If she had been in his shoes, she'd have been eating her own weight in pizza and brownies right now.  

It also didn’t help that his brother-in-law and his mom's new boyfriend, Phil from the hardware store, kept asking him about Baqubah and even touching on the subject of the explosion. It was obvious how uncomfortable the subject made him, his grip tightening around his knife and his jaw tensing up so tightly, she could imagine his teeth grinding.

So, Sy kept asking for refills, raising his glass, and giving them vague answers, but it seemed they didn't get the hint. At least, the subject changed when his sister interrupted the conversation to announce she was expecting again. A little girl.

Ada used the moments of cheer that followed to excuse herself from the table and go to the restroom. She was still somewhat nervous and her face was damp. She would have given anything for a glass of scotch at that moment but she was driving tonight.

Helen, Sy's mom appeared right behind her just as she was washing her hands. She hoped the woman would just disappear inside a stall but she wasn’t that lucky.

"Jack is back." Helen stated, arms crossed. A shiver ran through Ada's spine, damn she hated that woman. "For good."

Ada dried her hands with a paper towel, looking back at her mother-in-law through the mirror. "He is."

"Now's the time to prove yourself to this family and show us that Sy was right in marrying you.”

Before Ada could ask what the hell that was supposed to mean, Helen finally disappeared inside a stall. Rolling her eyes, Ada went to leave the restrooms when Helen decides to add some more venom. "Maybe a good start would be calling him by his first name, as a wife would."

°°°

"When do you start at Camp Mabry?" Ada asked, looking away from the steering wheel to glance at him for a second. Sy looked exhausted, not that she could she blame him after three different flights and a seemingly endless dinner. They had finally called it a night once the kids had started getting fussy.

"January 15th." He replied. "But they want me to stop by before then to have a look around the base and sign the contract."

"You're going to boss the hell out of the new recruits," Ada laughed, getting him to lighten up and even chuckle.

"You'd be surprised to know I'm actually a fair and considerate captain," Sy defended himself.

Next to him, Ada huffed as she tried stiffing the bubble of laughter, trying not miss the right exit off the main road.

"I just value discipline and compliance a lot," he added, his tone growing teasing.

This time, she was unable to stop her laugh. "Believe me, I know you do."

The drive was a short one to their house in the suburbs and she was soon parking her in their driveaway.

Ada fumbled with the key as she tried opening the front door, nervousness setting back in as she felt Sy standing behind her, holding his duffel bag. He followed in quickly after her, once she had finally managed to open the door.

"Welcome home, captain!" Ada cheered in her silliest tone as he discarded his bag on the floor.

Then, before she could even react, Sy was on her. His arms lifted her up, his body caging hers against the wall before capturing her lips in the most ferocious kiss she could imagine.

Out of instinct, her legs locked around his waist and her hands dug into his shoulders, unwilling to let go of him now that he was finally there. Sy grinned against her lips, amused by her fervour, not that he felt any different.

He broke off the kiss as he pulled them away from the wall, freeing a hand to shrug her coat off her shoulders. "You ain't gonna need that, darlin'," he promised, throwing the coat in the direction of the kitchen, not caring where it landed.

Then his mouth latched on to her throat, forcing a delicious moan out of his wife as he carefully manoeuvred them upstairs, still steady on his feet despite the alcohol. Sy was almost surprised when he pushed open the door to their bedroom with his foot and it didn't squeak, but that thought was fleeting as Ada started rolling her hips against his. Suddenly, nothing else mattered. Not the war, not the explosion or his guilt, only the woman in his arms.

Unceremoniously, he let her fall on the bed, the urgency now flowing through his blood keeping him from doing things the gentleman way. Ada didn't mind, giggling as she unzipped her dress and slid the red thing over her head, along with her bra. Apparently, she had decided to forego panties. Sy stood there, almost mesmerised as he watched her, suddenly not certain if he dared tainting her with his touch but Ada quickly made that decision for him as she got up on her knees.

"A little less staring and a little more undressing, captain," she purred with a smirk, her fingers determined as they made quick work of the buttons on his shirt.

"That's it, darlin'. You're in for it now," Sy roared, pulling her in for another furious kiss before pushing her back against the mattress, making her land on her back as he got undressed in record time. Fuck, was he hard.

"Open up for your captain." Sy ordered and Ada complied instantly, her legs falling open for him as she peered up at him, holding herself up on her elbows and worrying her lower lip between her teeth. "That's a good girl," he praised.

Without losing another second, Sy settled in between her legs, wrapping his strong arms around her thighs and parting them to their limits. He wanted to worship her body the way she deserved, show her exactly just how appreciative he was of her, how much he craved her, but it had been months and Sy was a starving man who had just been presented with the perfect meal.

"Fuck Sy!" Ada screamed out, her back arching off the bed the instant he licked her just where she craved him most. He chuckled against her, marvelling at how wet she already was for him.

She tried closing her legs around his head, rejoicing at the feeling of his beard rubbing against her sensitive skin and never wanting him to leave again, but his arms were too strong for her clenching thighs. She was left defenceless against his assault, with no choice but to obscenely moan her pleasure and let herself cum against his tongue as his thumb expertly massaged her clit.

The coil inside her snapped and her body tensed up before letting go just as suddenly, her now damp back falling back on the mattress. "Fuck, Sy." Ada breathed out, her chest heaving as she tried to reopen her eyes only to find her husband playfully gazing up at her, smirking with her arousal glistening on his beard. The sight alone almost made her cum again. "I'll never let you leave again!"

He smiled in response, placing a kiss on her lower stomach before crawling up her body. "I've no intention to, baby," he promised.

Ada caught a glimpse of his hard, flushed erection as his body slid over hers, realizing in her post-orgasmic haze that she was in for an even bigger treat now. She could taste herself in his mouth as they kissed, his hand slithering behind her back to seize her shoulder and hold her closer. Teasingly, he started rolling his hips, his hard clock rubbing against her slick cunt, coating himself with arousal before finally, he found his way inside her, burying his head next to hers in the pillow.

Ada whimpered as he did so, her eyes tearing up as his clock slid inside her. She had evidently grown unaccustomed to his girth and length in his absence. Sy paused immediately, his muscles tense as he looked at her with concern. “You okay?” She nodded in silence, wanting him to start moving but Sy looked unconvinced, using all his strength to keep still despite his desire to fuck her right into the mattress. Without a warning, Ada tightly wrapped her legs around his hips, making him go deeper. Sy let out a reverberating groan. “God, darlin’. I missed you.”

He started thrusting into her with such vigour, such determination it felt as if he was trying to bury himself so deep inside her, no one would ever be able to pry him away from her again. It did hurt, her cervix was getting battered with each of his hard movements but she found herself enjoying the pain because it was him; it was Sy and he was right there with her, back in her arms, and she could feel his heart beat beneath her fingertips as her hand gripped at his chest.

"Fuck, I'm... I’m," Ada gasped incoherently, her nails now scratching the skin of his back. Sy was sure there would be marks there in the morning which made him enjoy the sensation even more.

"I got you," he rasped. If possible, he pulled her even tighter to him, his pubic bone now rubbing against hers in that delicious way only he was able to do. Her slick walls were now contracting around him, her second orgasm impending. "Fuck," he groaned, his breath coming out in a stutter. "Are you...Can I...?"

Sy didn't have to word it, she knew what he meant. "Cum in me, Sy. Please," she almost begged.

Her words did it. His hips stuttered as he pushed in deep just when his orgasm washed over him, exploding inside her. His face contorted with pleasure and that sight alone had her fast tracking her fall over the figurative edge. He had his face buried on the crook of her neck, muffling his groans and moans against her skin as the dam gave way within her.

°°°

Sy grunted against his pillow, slowly waking up the following morning. He was convinced he was just rousing after a very nice dream and he was ready to toss his alarm clock across the room, furious at the object for interrupting his dream, that for once, had been a good one. With a startle, Sy realized that no blasting alarm had woken him up but the sunlight on his face. Opening his eyes, he felt almost as if on foreign ground. He was home.

As quietly as he could manage, Sy turned around in bed, seeking his wife only to find her side empty. Just at that moment, he heard cursing coming up from the kitchen and scoffed. He’d bet his life Ada was cracking eggs, something she hated.

Feeling rested and in a much more relaxed mood than the previous day, Sy got out of bed and started searching for a pair of boxer briefs so he could go join her downstairs when he caught a sniff of himself. Fuck, did he stink. How Ada hadn’t thrown him out of bed, he didn’t know.

Out of habit, Sy hurried to the en-suite bathroom, wanting to shower as fast as possible before realizing that this time around, it was different. He wasn’t going back, he didn’t have to rush, their time together wasn’t counted. With that in mind, Sy forced himself to take his time, enjoying the act of brushing his teeth in a bathroom that smelled nice and showering with warm water. Ada had purchased his usual brands of shower gel and toothpaste, he noticed, even putting a red bow around his brand-new toothbrush by the sink. Even though he initially wanted to take his time to enjoy it, Sy still ended up rushing as he dried himself with a blue fluffy towel he didn’t recognize from his previous stay. He didn’t bother putting on anything more than his boxer briefs before heading downstairs. If he was lucky, he wouldn’t keep them on for long either.

Sy walked into one of the best sights he had even seen, when he entered the kitchen. Ada was standing in front of the stove, rhythmically tapping the black spatula against her naked thigh as she focused on the eggs and bacon she was preparing. The thin negligee - or whatever she called it, he always forgot - barely covered her ass and that outfit alone was one of the reasons he never minded that she always cracked up the heat so high, he felt like he was back under the hot desert sun.

Silent and stealthy like a predator despite his stature, Sy sneaked up on her from behind and wrapped his arms around her waist, feeling her startle before relaxing once she noticed it was him. She smelled heavenly, Sy thought, resting his chin on the top of her head. "Watcha got cooking, darlin'?"

"Obviously breakfast," she sassed, making him softly pinch her ass in response. Ada squealed and jumped up. "Good morning to you too, Sy," she said but not before slapping the handle of the spatula against his thigh. He decided to let it slide... for now.

"Morning darlin'," he answered, kissing the crown of her head before darting his fingers into the pan and picking up a piece of bacon. It was sizzling hot, but the taste was worth it. He had missed being home! Speaking of being home... "What do you say we take the food and coffee upstairs and have ourselves breakfast in bed?" His tone failed to hide his true intentions.

Ada scoffed, the back of her head rubbing on his hairy chest and she shook her head. "Nice try but I actually intend to feed you. Your mother will have my head if I let you go hungry."

It was Sy's turn to laugh, his hands now roaming her body as she leaned forward to turn off the stove, pressing her ass against his crotch and eliciting a husky groan from him. "I'm hungry enough to eat both breakfast and you, don't worry."

Ada turned around, a huge grin on her angelic face. "Alright, you win. What do you say, we have breakfast, we do the kinky and then go grocery shopping?"

Sy tried hiding his smile but it was a lost cause. He loved it when she talked like that. He loved her, point. "Yes, ma'am."

#henry cavill smut #syverson smut #henry cavill x ofc #syverson x ofc #henry cavill x reader #syverson x reader

[msmarvelouswinchester]

Irresistibly Yours

Chapter 1 - The Elevator

Summary - Y/N Y/L/N moves to NYC in hopes for a fresh start after a nasty breakup. There she meets her neighbor, the cynical lawyer, Dean Winchester. A love-hate relationship starts evolving between them ever since they met in the elevator one morning but a desperate situation and a string of lies forces the two friendly rivals to go on a date or rather a fake date. Will sparks fly between them when Dean gets to know Y/N real and up close? Will Y/N finally find her Prince Charming in the grumpy, workaholic, divorce lawyer?

Pairing - Lawyer!Dean Winchester x Y/N

Warning - None for this chapter

Word Count - 1981

Square Filled - Moodboard ( @girl-next-door-writes )

A/N - *Cracks knuckles* Ta-daaaa! The series is finally here it's already Sunday where I live and I was dying to share this! It's going to be a wild ride ahead. So buckle up your seatbelts and enjoy the ride!

This is also my submission to @flamencodiva's Writing Challenge and @deanwanddamons' 2K Blogiversary challenge (congratulations on your milestone, Sian). Prompts are in bold.

Beta'd by @miss-nerd95 (Thanks again, hon❤️)

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Series Masterlist Masterlist

Throwing her bag over the table, Y/N slumped down on the couch, letting out a sigh. The pressure from the higher-ups, consistent criticism of your work and impending deadlines were weighing heavily on her shoulders and she was in a desperate need of a break.

She looked over to the stack of papers on the table that now lay abandoned. The rejection from the publishing company was the fucking cherry on top. Y/N buried her face in her hands in frustration as she was almost on the verge of a mental breakdown, a few angry tears rolling down her cheeks. Letting her head fall back, she swiped away those angry tears, letting out a long sigh of defeat.

“Why can't I ever do anything right?” She mumbled, her breathing heavy as she bit down on her trembling lips.

In her late twenties, after a nasty break up, Y/N had a marvellous thought that she needed a fresh start. So she had left her corporate job back in Atlanta and moved to New York to pursue her dreams of becoming a writer. She had secured a good position in one of the leading magazine companies and started to write the novel that she had been planning since she was seventeen, but lately nothing seemed to work out the way she wanted. Sure, she was getting paid well but it wasn't enough compared to how much she had to deal with her shitty coworkers and bosses. She had now lost every motivation to continue her novel after the first draft got rejected by the publishing companies enough times to make her feel insecure about her writing.

“Why can't my life just be a goddamn Hallmark movie?” Y/N muttered under her breath as she picked up a cushion and covered your face, letting out a muffled scream.

Her wallowing time was interrupted by the blaring noise of her phone in the awfully quiet apartment, making her nearly jump out of her skin. Another frustrated groan left her lips as she saw the person calling her.

“I told you to stop calling me, for god's sake!” Y/N yelled into her phone.

“Come on, Y/N. One dinner.” The man on the other end pestered. “You know, at work people talk about how uptight you are. Let yourself go, once in a while.”

“Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn. Michael- I'm not interested. I told you a hundred times before and I'll say it again. Leave. Me. Alone!” She said. The line on the other side went quiet.

“Bitch.” She heard him say before the call disconnected.

“Fuck off!” She yelled again, knowing fully well he couldn't have heard her now. Y/N finally decided to put him in her blocklist because Michael didn't seem like he was gonna stop otherwise.

It wasn't that she had a stick up her ass for not wanting to go on a dinner date with her coworker. Honestly, she missed the whole first date experience, but Michael was definitely not the guy for her, or for any other girls out there in her opinion. He threw around sexist comments around the office like it was some cool shit and chivalry was definitely dead for him.

Y/N finally got up from her seat, shoulders still tense from the day's events. Opening the refrigerator, she stood there gawking at the leftovers in it.

“Cold pizza….spaghetti….chocolate brownies….” She looked at your dinner options, weighing each one's pros and cons before settling on - “Brownies it is.”

Taking out the chocolate confection , she returned to the couch. She put on Netflix as she browsed through it's movie section.

“Stupid Prince Charming-” she scoffed, biting into the delicious the chocolate chip brownie in hand. Grumbling at the unrealistic standards of Netflix rom coms, she still pressed the play on the film The Proposal.

Finishing her 'dinner', Y/N picked up the comforter, nestling deep into her couch as she watched the coldhearted Margaret fall head over heels for her assistant, the exhaustion kicked in.

“Fuck!”

And that's how the next morning started as Y/N woke up one hour later than usual. She had fallen into a deep sleep on her couch before Andrew even got to propose to Margaret, which was not exactly the wisest decision as the next morning, her neck and back screaming in pain.

The girl knew she was going to be late to work today by the time she had left the house. Hair up in a messy bun, a bag hanging from her shoulder, she tried to smoothen down the creases on her skirt before rushing towards the elevator in high heels.

“Hold the door!” She yelled at the man inside as soon as the door started to close. She sprinted towards the elevator as the man kept looking at her, an annoyed look evident on his face when he slammed the button, taking a step forward to keep the door from closing.

“Thank you!” Y/N huffed, as she got in the elevator. The man chose to remain silent and he pressed the ground button on the elevator. “I am so screwed today! I have never been this late to work!” She babbled on but the man still maintained the stoic look on his face. Y/N slightly turned to face the man of stone. He was probably in his thirties, his dirty blonde hair, sparkling green eyes and light stubble on his cheeks went very well with the crisp grey suit he was wearing. One hand in his pocket, he just stood there, jaw clenched together, eyes focused on the shut doors.

“You know, I should have set the alarm! Stupid-”

“Do you ever shut up?” The man finally spoke, a look of disinterest passing his face.

“Wow. Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed, I guess.” Y/N rolled her eyes.

“Excuse me?” His voice was hard.

“I said, someone woke up-”

“I heard what you said. I am just not interested in listening to your morning fuck-up story.” He scoffed.

“Woah, okay.” She widened her eyes at his disrespectful comment, “I just-” The elevator reached the ground floor of their apartment building and the doors opened with a ‘ding’.

“I think you don't want to waste anymore time talking since you're already running late.” Y/N gasped slightly at the audacity of the man. “Have a good day, Miss L/N.” The man wished before moving out of the confined space as Y/N narrowed her eyes at him and wondered how he knew her name.

“Have a good day as well, Mr….” She trailed off as she got out of the vator as well.

“Dean Winchester.” He said as he walked away, never once looking back as Y/N stood there, bewildered at what just happened.

Hands balled up into fists in apprehension, Y/N inhaled audibly, as she stood on the other side of the door. She was late to the meeting by half an hour, twenty-four minutes to be precise and nothing annoyed her boss more than tardiness.

“Y/N, it's a pleasure that you finally graced this meeting with your presence on this fine morning.” Abaddon’s words laced with acute sarcasm made it quite clear that Y/N was doomed when she entered the room. The remaining four pairs of eyes in the room were zeroed in on her, as she abashedly took a seat at the far-end of the table. She couldn't risk her job because of her smartass mouth and she was already on thin ice, so she kept quiet and let Abaddon carry on with the meeting cause even Cruella De Vil would be hiding her face in shame if she ever met Abaddon. She was an Umbridge before her coffee and a Regina George after drinking her coffee. There was no way she was going to spare the poor girl today.

“As I was pointing out, our sales have gone down in recent months quite drastically. Readers are saying the contents are not relatable or entertaining enough….”

A yawn threatened to leave Y/N as she listened to Abaddon go on about the poor performance of the company, her mind preoccupied by a certain green-eyed man. She had never seen Dean in the building before this morning. He was annoyingly good looking and rude and Y/N couldn't seem to get rid of the image of him looking dapper in that grey suit. She was barely able to focus on what Abaddon was saying.

With Dean Winchester still running through her mind, Y/N trudged back to her small cubicle after the painfully hour long meeting.

Plopping down on the chair, covering her face with her hands, she exclaimed, “I need coffee!”

“Thank me later.” She turned her head to Meg as she pushed a hot cup of coffee towards her before going back to her own cubicle.

“Black, just like my heart.” She said before inhaling the strong smell of the drink. Taking a little sip, she let out a sigh of content. “Jesus, I needed this badly.”

“Yeah, you look like shit,” Meg chuckled, earning a glare from her friend. “Did you even take a look at the mirror today? Honestly, I am not even exaggerating, I-”

“Meg, I’ll forever be grateful to you for this cup of coffee, but please stop talking.” Y/N groaned loudly.

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Michael walking towards her and put on headphones and turning the volume up, trying to look busy. “Heads up, incoming douchebag.” The brunette said. After the hubbub of the morning and the shitshow of a meeting, Michael was the last person Y/N wanted to see.

“Morning, Y/N.” The smug smile on his face made her cringe. This had been going on for a month now. She thought after last night, Michael would finally back down, but apparently she was very wrong. “My messages don't seem to get through anymore.”

“She blocked you. God, take a hint.” Meg muttered.

“She's right. It's ‘cause you can’t seem to take no for an answer.” Y/N huffed.

“One dinner. Just one.”

“No.”

“She said no. Isn't that enough?” Meg jumped to her friend’s rescue when she saw her fumbling and getting uncomfortable. Michael inched towards Y/N anyway, completely ignoring his colleague’s comment, a smirk evident on his face.

“Y/N, don't be so uptight. What harm does a single dinner gonna do?” He asked.

“It’ll be cheating. I have a boyfriend.” Y/N blurted out, making Meg’s eyes go wide, but it actually seemed to work as Michael moved away from her.

“A boyfriend?”

“Yeah. We have been going out for a while now.” The said man frowned as he thought the words over before leaving her space with a little nod of his head. Maybe it worked on him without any hassle, but she knew this lie would come back to bite her in the ass if the whole office got to know about it. Oh, and they would know since turning around, Y/N saw Ruby staring at her, a grin appearing on her face as she took in all the juicy gossip. The lie was now gonna spread like wildfire.

“Spill.” Y/N turned to look at her friend who stood there, hands folded, eyes wide, brows raised in utter disbelief. She puckered her lips as she waited on Y/N to explain who just frowned in reply. “Well? What happened? I want all the details, Y/N!”

“Oh come on, L/N. Share the deets.” Ruby snickered. “Who's the man that actually managed to capture your heart?”

“Dean Winchester.” The name tumbled out of her lips so easily and that was how she knew she was screwed.

Chapter 2

Feedback is highly appreciated!

Let me know if you want to be tagged in this series!

#deanwanddamons2kcelebration #girl next door's make me feel bingo #dean x reader #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fic #au dean x reader #dean winchester #irresistibly yours #au dean winchester x reader #dean x y/n #dean winchester x y/n

[im-in-love-with-pizza-bites]

It Takes A Village Chapter 14

Chris Evans x pregnant!daughter!reader

Series master list

Series summary: You find out that you're pregnant. After being kicked out of your mom's house you go to live full time with your Dad who you only saw once every few months. Will he react badly to you being a mom at such a young age?

Chapter Summary: You have some second thoughts before the babies kick for the first time.

Series Warnings: swearing, fighting with a parent, teen pregnancy, speak of abortion.

Chapter Warnings: Teen Pregnancy

You decided to not share the gender of the babies on social media, the press had just calmed down about them and you. Your dad was busy as he usually is the few weeks before he has to go film, not that you were used to it since you lived in texas. You were working, over the month you've been working you were able to save up quite a bit. Not enough to raise the babies, but it was enough for diapers and formula. When you go to LA you'll probably find a job in walking distance to his house there, since you'll still need money the money you have now isn't enough.

"Hi what can I get for you?" You asked standing at the drive-through window. You put in what they said, "that'll be $10.99 at the next window."

The car drove around and you smiled, at the girl who sat in the driver seat. "10.99." You said, she handed you her card, you swiped it before giving it back, "have a nice day!" You said smiling.

----

Your shift ended a little bit ago and you sat out front waiting for your dad to pick you up. You scrolled through Instagram mindlessly as you got sucked into your doubts and worries.

What if you ruin these kids' lives? What if Jake suddenly wants to be in the babies lives would you have to let him? Should you pick his last name just in case he does want to be in their lives? What if your dad changes his mind about helping you? Should you have kept them a secret from the press? Would've been a hard secret to keep though. How will you raise them? You don't know anything about guys.

You snapped from your thoughts at the sound a honking horn. You stood grabbing your bag putting it on your shoulder and hopping in the car. "Hey dad!" You said smiling at him.

"Hey bub." He smiled at you before leaving the McDonald parking lot. "So sweetpea.. I have bad news." He began.

"What?" You looked at him but he kept his eyes on the road.

"I have to go to LA early..."

"How early?" You asked, before you two would be flying to LA the day after your last day of school.

"Next Friday."

"But dad the last day of school isn't till the Friday after that." You said.

"I know bub... So you have two options.." He said.

"Go on.."

"Your first option is to stay with Grandma for the week then fly down on the same flight as you already have but alone, second option is you still stay with her but will get a plane to LA after school." He said.

"Okay.. The second option I guess." You said shrugging.

"Okay! Perfect bub." He gave you a quick smile. He'd always admire how you adapted so easily. Even when you were younger you adapted so easily to their divorce, he couldn't lie that was bittersweet to him. But now you simply took a little to adapt he doesn't know how you do it. If he did know he would know you just avoided of thinking of it. Break up? You didn't think of it. Kicked out? You didn't think of it. It would probably come to bite you in the ass but you weren't gonna change when it was working. "Remember you'll be flying alone so don't talk to any one except the flight attendants."

"Dad I've been flying as an unattended minor for most of my life." You smiled at him as he pulled into the driveway.

"Okay Bubba. Do you have any homework?" He asked as the two of you stepped out of the car.

"Nope, I did it on my break at work."

"Well then," he smirked at you, "Movie night?"

"Yeah! Can I pick? I want to watch mulan!" You said smiling at him.

"Okay, I'll order pizza."

You smiled running in. Dodger came straight to the door sniffing you before sniffing your stomach. It became a normal ritual, anytime you were in his sight when you came back he'd sniff your stomach to what you could imagine check on the babies. "Hey bud." You kelt down petting him.

Chris smiled before going to the kitchen to order pizza. You went upstairs, you got out of your work clothes into a sleeping shirt and some shorts. You looked in the mirror at the bump that can now be seen in your shirt.. You sighed, the thoughts from before coming back. It's scary knowing you have to raise the twins on your own. Sure you had your dad, but when you turn 18 you'll probably be on your own. In the span of a day, you lost everything you knew, texas had been your home most of your life. You planned on living there when you were an adult, you planned in raising your kids there well into your twenties is when you planned on that. But now your 15, pregnant with twins, and definitely not in Boston.

"Y/n! You coming sweet pea?" You heard your dad holler from the living room. You snapped from your thoughts, slipping on some fluffy socks before going downstairs. "There you are bub are you okay?"

"Uh.. Yeah I was just thinking." You said sighing as you put your hands on the baby bump.

"Bubba what?"

"Dad.. What if I can't take care of the babies?" You looked down. He sighed before you guys went to sit on the couch.

"Bubba... Your already doing great. You got a job, your taking on the responsibility of them even though your young.

"I guess so." You shrugged.

"Bub I was also worried I'd fuck my kid's life up. But look at you, I didn't fuck your life up." He said. You let out a giggle.

"Even if you did you could blame mom." You said. He nodded. You stopped giggling as you felt movement in your belly.

"What's wrong sweet-pea?" He asked worriedly.

"They're kicking!" You squealed. He was unable to stop himself when you put a hand on your belly to feel his grandkids kick for the first time, not that you minded.

"That's great! See they are on my side. Now let's watch Mulan!" He said. You nodded, he retracted his hands grabbing the remotes. Your hands stayed on your belly as the movie began. You didn't notice how Chris was smiling at you for most of the movie. When your mom had first told him you were pregnant he was afraid that if you were to keep the baby you wouldn't care for it. Sure he always wanted a large family but he wasn't going to just raise the baby he'd try his best to make you do it, but seeing how your hands didn't leave your belly he was relieved to know you'd be doing your best. It meant he could spoil them more. Like obviously. There was no doubt he'd probably be paying for a majority of their clothes cause when they're babies with no interests he still needs to spoil them.

The babies kicking set something straight in your brain. You could do, your dad was telling you that you could do this, in a way the babies were saying you could do it. That was all that mattered.

A/n: here's a reminder Taglist is open...

Taglist: @toastisgood @coldmuffinpartycloud @thevelvetseries @uniquebeautyqueen

#chris evans x teen!reader #cevans #chris evans #chris evans x daughter!reader #teen pregnancy #x teen!reader #x daughter!reader #daughter!reader #teen!reader #i'll be there to help you the whole way #it takes a village

[shinydelirium]

Kiro’s 2021 Childhood Bday  R&S Translation [CN]

***THIS POST CONTAINS CONTENT THAT HAS NOT BEEN RELEASED YET ON EN SERVER!!! DO NOT READ IF YOU WANT TO AVOID SPOILERS***

This is a translation from Kiro’s 2021 childhood birthday story released on CN server. I do not know any Chinese so this was done through Google Translate. I apologize for any errors or mistranslations. Without further ado, please continue on reading!!! :) 

***WARNING: ANGST!!! THIS IS SUPPOSE TO BE A HAPPY DAY FOR KIRO!!! FIRST IT WAS S2 CH12 AND NOW THIS!?!?! WTH, PAPERGAMES!?!?!***

[Chapter 1]: Child Star’s Birthday

7:50 am California

After Kiro ran to the classroom and sat down, he laid his head directly on the table. “You can sleep for another ten minutes.” He whispered to himself in his heart.

He is too sleepy.

Ten hours ago, he finished the last set of filming, returned from the studio to the house the company set up for him in California, and then caught up on all the missing courses and homework. It was already 3 o’clock in the morning.

As if on cue, his stomach growled and Kiro lay helplessly on the table.  

Since his debut, he has become more or less accustomed to the professionalism of being a “star” but at this time his stomach seems to be persistently singing against him. Kiro hesitated for a moment and then opened a pack of soda five minutes later.

Sweetness hits the tip of his tongue and brings a sense of satisfaction to his brain. He finally breathed a sigh of relief, put on his headphones and closed his eyes.  

This is the first time in a while he has taken a break in the past few days.  

Kiro took a deep breath quietly and buried his face deeper into his arms.

But he could still feel the gazes around him looking at him and the innocent discussions. Even the moment he walked into the classroom and sat down, the air was still for half a second.

He doesn’t like this kind of “special treatment” nor does he like how he is always affected by it.

Over the years, he thought that he should be used to being watched constantly, and perhaps he had to bear the pressure from other peers. But sure enough, in fact, there are still many times that he will be a little breathless.  

Like now.  

As a child star, there were two to three days a week that he where he would be absent from school. For Kiro, his classmates are indeed some distance away. Because of his repeated absence, the- so-called disparity was expected.  

The reasons are not so complicated in the eyes of the children. At this age, the feeling of distance is often more sensitive than adults.  

He also wants to try his best to build a good relationship with them. After all, having friends is a very happy thing.  

As if he had finally made up his mind, Kiro took a deep breath, smoothed down messy hair, and raised his smiling face along with his shining blue eyes.

“Good morning, everyone, long time no see!” No one could possibly refuse such a warm and sincere greeting, let alone Kiro.  

Even though some shy classmates nodded their heads and smiled with furtive gazes, the greeting initiated by Kiro still received many responses. Soon, a small circle formed around him. Everyone scrambled to ask which crew he went to during the period of “his absence”, which big star he saw, and what new information he gathered.

Suddenly, a boy with curly hair, leaned in and patted Kiro on the shoulder with great enthusiasm.

“Kiro! Happy birthday!”

As his high voice rang out, the children who got together cheered in unison.  

“They are all embarrassed to come and tell you, so I said it! Happy birthday, future star.”

Kiro was taken aback.

“Thank you.”

Almost a subconscious reply.

But in that small world that only belonged to Kiro, another voice sounded different from what he was doing at this time.

“So, today is my birthday.”

[Chapter 2]: A Heart to Live Up To

“Kiro, great, you haven’t left yet!”  

The lingering sound of the bell was still echoing. Kiro had just cleaned up and wanted to seize the rare free time to make up for a good night’s sleep, when he was suddenly stopped by the instructor who had rushed over. He excitedly grabbed Kiro’s hands, looking very surprised.

“Teacher, are you looking for me?”

“Yeah....” The teacher didn’t seem to know how to begin. Kiro responded sensibly, leading the question back at the end of the dialogue.

“If there is anything I need to do, you can just say it directly.”

After hearing this, the teacher nodded in relief, as if he had waited for a long time and quickly told the whole story.  

Kiro understood what was going on.  

It turned out that there was a very important violin competition for high school students today and the classmate of the classical music department who represented the school had a temporary accident and was unable to participate. He wanted Kiro to help fill in.

“...Okay, I will try my best. Thank you, teacher, for believing in me.”

Even though he was tired, he did not refuse this sudden request.

It’s not that he isn’t interested in the competition, nor is he absolutely confident in his skills, it’s just...

He hopes that he is perfect enough in the eyes of the teacher.

After all, at this critical time, the teacher thought of him and believed in him, and he must not fail this trust.

Thinking about this, Kiro clenched his teeth, swallowed a yawn that was ready to come out, and forced himself to wake up. After the teacher went back to the residence to fetch his violin, he hurried to the scene of the competition.

The site was set up in the observation deck of a building and under the transparent glass plank pathway, it is a panoramic view of the entire city.  

At the time of arrival, many contestants were already busy making preparations. Kiro’s appearance undoubtedly caused quite a stir. The teacher proudly met the gazes and protected Kiro through the crowd to their waiting area.

Kiro quickly entered the waiting area. He opened the violin bag, skillfully tightened the bow, wiped the rosin, set the violin on his shoulder, and tuned the pegs carefully and intently.  

Now that he is here, he must do his best. He cheered himself up and walked in the direction where he was ready to take the stage.

“Don’t worry, he is a little star. Even if he doesn’t do well, he has publicity and won’t make the school lose too badly.”

The voice in the corner made Kiro stop.

He didn’t listen. It seemed that there was another voice arguing with him, but that was not important. Kiro just returned to the waiting area quietly, waiting for the announcement from the competition organizer. He just lowered his head and stood there quietly.

At this time a man came over. He patted Kiro’s shoulder lightly and said mysteriously.

“Kiro, this is the first time we’ve met. I am a teacher in the classical music department.” He lowered his voice, “Actually, I don’t really like the format of music competitions. Music should be something to enjoy and convey emotions, not some sort of boring game. So don’t think of it as a competition, but as a special show. I’m looking forward to hearing the music you play. I heard that you play the violin very well. This is the first time I will hear your music.

After that, he mischievously gave Kiro a big pat on the back. *Took some liberties here with the translation*  

Kiro stared at this somewhat holistic man and did not speak for a long time. A similar and familiar feeling came out of him.  

The broadcast system called Kiro’s name.

“Don’t think about anything, just let the world hear your voice.”

[Chapter 3]: Happy Birthday Song

The competition ended smoothly.

Kiro didn’t remember the process of his performance. He only remembered the way the classical music department teacher exaggeratedly raised his hands to applaud him when he left the competition. His eyes were full of real and undisguised recognition and praise.

At the end of the competition, he politely declined the kindness of the teachers and left alone.  

The California coast is like spring all year round and the fresh air is filled with a faint smell of saltwater. Kiro walked, suddenly a little at a loss.  

For a moment he didn’t know where he should go or where he could go. He just carried his violin bag and walked alone on the streets of California aimlessly.  

Until he passed by a family restaurant.

Such restaurants are very common in California. People choose outdoor dining areas to enjoy their food with nature.

As far as Kiro’s line of sight could see, a family sat around the table warmly. There are grandparents, parents, and even uncles and aunts. And the main star of this family banquet is obviously the little girl sitting in the middle wearing a birthday hat.

She sat happily in the center, closing her eyes in front of a huge cake.  

Everyone’s face was filled with the look of joy as they watched her patiently and earnestly. No one interrupted the most solemn “ceremony” at this time.  

The little girl closed her eyes for a long, long time. Maybe she had a lot of wishes that she wants to come true or maybe she is carefully telling some wish that she wants to come true the most.  

After all, in the eyes of a child, the more important the wish, the more carefully it will be heard and realized.  

Kiro stood there and looked at the little girl’s face quietly. He didn’t know what he was feeling right now. It seemed that something he wanted to show was turning upwards along his heart, as if he would shed tears in the next second.  

He just stood there silently, watching her finally make her wish, blowing out the candles while her family sang “happy birthday.” Grabbing the balloons in her hand, the girl ran around in the open space, spinning her little skirt.  

Then she saw Kiro and ran towards him happily without knowing what she was thinking.

“Prince!” She waved her little hand at Kiro and said loudly. Kiro was stunned. The little girl ran up to him and raised her head, “His Royal Highness, are you here to wish me a happy birthday, too?”

Kiro thought for a while, crouched down and touched the little girl’s head, “Although I am not a prince, I wish you a happy birthday!”

The little girl didn’t seem to understand what he meant. She carefully picked out a yellow one from her balloon stash and gave it to Kiro.  

“Thank you for wishing me happiness, and I wish you happiness too. This is for you.”

The little girl happily ran back to her seat after speaking with him and the whole family nodded politely to him, seeming to express gratitude.  

Kiro looked at the yellow balloon in his hand and walked away slowly.

He was walking on the road, the sun a little dazzling, the balloon floating gently while he hummed quietly.

“Happy birthday to me, happy birthday to me~”

At this time, his phone chimed, alerting him to an email.

[Chapter 4]: Special Birthday Gift

It is an email from KEY.

Since he came to the United States, KEY has always liked to use this “fun” way to keep in touch with him in addition to the phone.

Kiro sat on the roadside steps, “If my agent sees me like this, he will definitely be angry.”

Kiro thought about it leisurely but didn’t have any plans to get up.

“Today is my birthday, so I call the shots!” *Took some liberties here*

First, he simply replied to the fan messages wishing him a happy birthday on social media and then concentrated on deciphering KEY’s information. It is a very interesting little program. The code attached to the email can be directly written to change the content of the email.  

Kiro has always been happy with this special design. Under his operation, the information was quickly decoded.

“The place where you stay most often.”

Kiro read it out gently, and there was a pair of combined numbers at the same time.  

He raised his head, as if thinking of something.

The dance studio was deserted at this time.

This was the exclusive training room given to him by the company. Kiro took out the key and walked in gently in the same way as he had been in class.  

This is a special place for him.

The sun in the afternoon was particularly brilliant, flowing into the entire classroom through the floor-to-ceiling windows, which looked clean and sparkling. Kiro stood in front of a small cabinet in the dance studio.

He felt like an ordinary child at this moment, being guided to find the answer in the way he was most interested in. He was a little happy when he thought of this.  

Kiro cautiously opened the cabinet and found a box inside. He took it out, and after opening it, it turned out to be an exquisite violin.

The little violin along with the sunlight filtering down onto the light brown amber, reflected in his eyes, as if it was shining.

At this time, the second email came. It was simple and there was no need for decoding.

“Happy birthday.” He seemed to hear KEY saying this to him.

Kiro couldn’t help thinking, when did KEY hide it here?

As if responding to his question, footsteps came from outside the door. Kiro’s heart beat a little fast, and he suddenly wondered if there would be another gift.

He opened the door in surprise, and an unceremonious man greeted him.

The man didn’t even take off his shoes. The exquisite black leather shoes stepped on the smooth floor, looking particularly dazzling.

Kiro felt his fingertips instantly chill, and he clenched his hands hard to keep his body from shaking.

“I really don’t know why I’m responsible for this kid.” The man gave him a look of disgust, “I won’t talk too much nonsense with you.”

“The higher ups are very dissatisfied with you.” Each word struck Kiro’s heart, “Don’t forget why you want to become a star.”

“In one month’s time,” he threw a document on the ground, “Finish it.”

“I don’t know what you have to look forward to.” The man walked in front of him to the center of the floor. Kiro lowered his head, and there were only footprints left in his field of vision that seemed to have been dyed black with thick ink, step by step, on a clean floor.

It seems that no matter how hard he tried, he can’t wipe off that trace.

“3684.” The man impatiently left his last words, “Don’t be too self-righteous. You really think you are worth something?”

[Chapter 5]: Things You Want To Protect

In the empty dance studio, the operating sound of the air humidifier hummed quietly.

Kiro didn’t know how long he had been standing there until the tingling sensation rushed to his legs and he instinctively moved forward slightly.

The towel and hairband hanging on the side of the cabinet came into view and he strode forward suddenly and threw them to the ground fiercely. ***The towel and hairband mentioned here are what Kiro uses during dance practice to wipe off/absorb sweat***

The world swallowed his outburst silently but indifferently, making him at this moment seem small and lonely.

In the end, he dragged his numb body and walked tiredly to the towel and hairband, as if all his strength had been drained and slowly knelt on the floor.

Just like the day when he first picked them.

Kiro stretched out his hand, slowly picked up the towel and hair band, and carefully hugged them in his arms. They were his only close friends, walking side by side. They were proof of his hard work. But if these proofs can be trampled so easily, then what was all his effort for?”

The edges of the cotton towel and hairbands were slightly deformed due to their repeated use. He swiped hard, remembering that he had almost thrown them away because of being used so many times.

And whenever he was about to throw them in the trash can, the soft texture in his hands was always quietly hot at that moment.

It seemed to be telling him, “Wait a minute. Hold on.”

It’s as if they were reminding him they were made in order to continued to be used.

He once heard others say that life will find a way out.

“Is this the way you worked hard to find?”

He stood foolishly in front of the trash can, looking at the towel and hairbands in his hands, muttering to himself.

Then he would stand there, talking endlessly for a while.  

He thought that music was the way out for his life that was once empty.

It seemed that in the darkness where he still was, a gleaming light suddenly broke in. In that world, he can always shine with golden light and light up his life forever.

He can see himself.

But if he can’t maintain this purity, is he still worthy to live in this world that once taught him to redeem?

No.

Kiro raised his head and looked at himself in the mirror.

That world may be impure, but his dream is real, and his love is real. This was what he wanted to do as Kiro, and it was the only way out.

He is Kiro. Not 3684.

He rubbed the hair band firmly, then raised his hand to tie it on his head and smiled at himself in the mirror with encouragement and humbleness as he did before each practice.

“Today’s 2-hour dance training has not been completed yet.”

A dynamic rhythm sounded in the studio and the sound of footsteps rubbing on the floor resounded one after another. Kiro was practicing hard while telling himself in his heart.  

“This is just another ordinary day, tomorrow will only be better.”

Two hours later, he turned off the music, bent over gasping, and abnormally did not stand up for a long, long time.

Finally, for what seemed like ages, he slowly straightened up, took out the violin from the bag on the floor, and sat by the window. The dark brown violin was lined with soft light under the sun and he held it as if being embraced.

“I will definitely protect you.”

Kiro’s eyes were soft, and his tone was gentle and firm.

The birds outside the window chirped and landed freely on the edge of the window.

“It’s great that you are free.”

Kiro smiled and gently extended his fingertips.  

“I will be free too.”

[Chapter 6]: Free Sailing

A telephone ring broke the silence of the studio.

Kiro looked down at the phone. It was an unfamiliar number. Maybe it was from a fan somewhere, but he picked it up in a ghostly manner.

“Hello, this is PLANET Yacht Club, what can I do for you?”

Kiro was stunned. The person at the other end waited patiently for his silence. After a long time, he remembered that when he was resting on the sidewalk a while ago, he accidentally saw a magazine ad about yachts. He made a phone consultation.

However, because he needed to go to pratice immediately he asked the other party to contact him afterwards.  

Unexpectedly, it happened to be today.

“I have read your information. I have some interest in your yachts. How can I learn more about it?”

“If this is the case, you can visit our terminal directly. On which day would you like to make an appointment?”

“Is today okay?”

When Kiro said it, he was also stunned. He felt his heart beating, but he didn’t know what this feeling represented.

“Of course, we will send the address to your phone later, looking forward to your visit.”

When Kiro saw that yacht, he decided to buy it.

It was lying quietly in the corner of the entire pier, unremarkable, but in the light of the surging tide, it instantly attracted Kiro’s eyes.

Of course, the salesman saw the young boy coming to the club, obviously looking a little bit awkward and seemed to be thinking about how to politely ask him to leave.

“I want that yacht.”

Kiro didn’t leave the yacht’s sight and took out his bank card in the salesman’s dumbfounded gaze.

The boat was moored by a small harbor where there was a little old port. This was the place he saw on the way to the club.

He asked the people of the club to help him get the boat here and said that in a few days, he would come again to ask about how to operate the yacht.

It was dusk now and there were no people, only him and his boat, listening to the ebb and flow together.

The half-round sunset has fallen below the sea level. The sun is golden and far away, warmly embracing the whole world.

The yacht hasn’t been decorated yet and looks a bit simple, but Kiro doesn’t care. He feels that he has seen the future of the ship.

This is his boat, he repeats this in his heart over and over, and in the future, there will be someone who is most special to him in this world who will share it with him.

Think of it as a birthday present for yourself even though there is no cake and no birthday song today.

But this is also good.

Kiro was lying on the small deck, seagulls flying non-stop. The sky was divided into half blue and half-yellow. The boat rose and fell with the tide. He opened his arms as if he could touch the sky.

Kiro suddenly felt that he could go anywhere.

Nothing can stop him.

[End]

#mlqc #mlqc spoliers #kiro #kiro spoilers #mlqc kiro #mlqc kiro spoilers #kiro bday event 2021 #r&s #mr love #mr love queen's choice #zhou qiluo #kira #love and producer #translation #koi to producer #mldd #mr love dream date #kiro childhood bday #kiro bday #bday 2021 #spoilers #恋与制作人 #周棋洛

[hotchnisspoetry]

Exile - Chapter 4

Chapter 1 - Here

Chatper 2 - Here

Chapter 3 - Here

Hotch finally gets some answers from Emily.

Chapter 4 - death by a thousand cuts

Rossi left and the bullpen was mostly in darkness apart from the light which came from Hotch’s office. Emily removed the sling she’d been wearing since leaving hospital. It was awkward and she didn’t like how she felt when she wore it. She headed along the walkway and without knocking opened the door to Hotch’s office.

The unit chief was sat behind his desk staring at, but not really seeing, a stack of reports. He’d been in New York for several days before the case which had ended with Strauss’ death and following that was the showdown with the replicator. It meant he’d not been at his desk for almost a week and the paperwork was piling up. When she walked in he raised his head and for a moment they locked eyes.

“Everyone’s gone home.” She said just to end the silence.

“Fincher called. He’s given the team the rest of the week off.” Hotch said finally looking away.

“That includes you.” She pointed out.

Was she telling him to leave? Had she changed her mind and accepted the role of section chief? He’d never thought she would take the job but clearly there was a lot he didn’t know about her. Hotch met her gaze and raised an eyebrow.

“Are you trying to get rid of me?” He asked with a just a hint of amusement.

“In a gentle, encouraging, you’ve had a long week and should probably get some rest way, yes.”

She was trying to look out for him, as usual. He flashed back to the days following Foyet’s attack when he was in hospital; whenever he woke up from his heavily medicated sleep she would always be there. Guarding him, protecting him.

“I’ll go… when you’ve told me what happened with Foyet.” Hotch said sitting back in the chair.

Outwardly she didn’t react. Emily was far too good for that. He wasn’t going to catch her out or trick her into doing anything she didn’t want to. She cared for him still, despite everything that had happened between them and yes he would use that to get what he wanted. Right now he didn’t care about anything else but learning the truth.

“What happened is in the past.” Emily said despite knowing she wouldn’t dissuade him.

“Not for me.” He said impatiently. “Not when I just found out an hour ago that I could have lost you.”

You’d already lost me.

She didn’t say the words out loud but she was tempted. Part of her, a small part, wanted to hurt him. Just like he’d hurt her.

“I told you what happened.”

“Not everything. Not enough.” Hotch said

Fincher had used it as a reason to try and get her behind a desk. It had gone badly and Hotch needed details. If he had to he’d go to Fincher on Monday but he didn’t want to do that. He wanted to hear it from her first-hand. Hotch was relentless and he’d get what he wanted one way or another; she knew that. So she might as well tell him now.

Emily took a deep breath.

“I was in Boston and I was digging for anything I could get on Foyet. He found out somehow, I’m not sure how, and started to follow me. I didn’t see him; he was too good but I could feel him watching me, just on the periphery.”

Hotch understood. It was what stalking victims had described many times over the years, not seeing anyone but feeling them. Knowing they were there.

“I spoke with Lindmen and he put me in a safe house.”

Lindeman was her contact at the Boston field office and while he had his own caseload he’d been offering assistance where he could.

“I think he was worried what Fincher would do if I got myself killed. I went along with it because I knew Foyet would find me no matter what I did. He knew Boston. I felt he had inside connections and in the end I was proved right.”

“He found you in a safe house?” Hotch asked, his stomach twisting in knots at her words.

“I wanted him to find me.”

His eyes blazed with anger at that and for a split second she froze, waiting for him to speak. A minute passed though and he stayed silent. Hotch was the King of compartmentalization but she’d never seen him so close to snapping as he was right there.

“A week passed and the officers assigned to the safe house started to think it was bullshit. They wouldn’t believe that the Boston Reaper would come back to Boston.”

Emily couldn’t exactly blame them. Most killers having successfully escaped from jail would flee the city they were most known in and never return. Then again George Foyet was not most killers.

“I knew better though and I tried to warn them but they didn’t listen. That’s what got them killed.”

Boston police wouldn’t like being lectured to by a fed, let alone a young female fed who had no physical evidence of a threat. The Reaper had been their case originally and then the FBI had been called in. It was the BAU who caught Foyet but he’d been in police custody when he escaped. There was a lot of bad feeling regarding the Foyet case and Emily had felt the brunt of it.

“It was after midnight when the power went out. I radioed down but got no response.”

She shifted as she spoke, ignoring the goose bumps which broke out over her body. It had taken months for her to lock those memories away in their box, to completely block out what had happened. Reliving it wasn’t a pleasant experience. She spoke quickly, wanting to get it over with, not linger on these memories.

“I was upstairs and went to the back room to wait. He was already there… it didn’t seem real. I couldn’t go out the door so I ran to the window and went straight through it.”

At the time she’d been acting purely on instinct. If she’d stayed in the room she’d have died. As she’d run to the window she’d seen the glint of the knife as Foyet swung it towards her in a high arch.

“I landed on grass but it messed my knee up. I pulled a shard of glass from my leg but I couldn’t stand let alone walk.”

By this point Hotch couldn’t look at her as she spoke. His fingers were digging into the arm rest of his chair and his jaw was clenched. It was all playing out in his head like the worst horror film he’d ever seen.

“I could hear him approach as I crawled. He grabbed my hair, yanking my head back.”

She’d never told this part of the story before and her voice broke. Hotch lifted his head.

“Keep going.”

It took everything he had to keep the emotion out his voice. To not let on just how much this was killing him. His apparent lack of feeling hurt Emily as much as telling the story did. With a new resolve she didn’t know she possessed, she walked over to his desk, then round and sat on the edge. There was barely any space between them. Without saying a word she took his hand and lifted it from the chair arm he’d been gripping. She brought his fingers to her neck and pressed them across the slender column of her throat.

“He cut my throat.”

Emily knew when he felt the scar. A scar no longer visible thanks to make up and topical treatments but could definitely be felt. His eyes widened and utter horror crossed over his face for almost a full minute. It was only when she dropped his hand and turned her head away that he recovered and that Hotch mask returned.

He wanted to touch her.

To take her hand again, lace his fingers with hers and offer the comfort he knew she needed but would never ask for. She wouldn’t let him if he tried though so he didn’t.

“I had the shard of glass from my leg in my hand. He didn’t see it coming when I stabbed him.”

She smiled as she remembered his angry growl when he saw the glass buried in his side. Foyet had underestimated her from the start and each time she’d proved what a grave mistake that was she’d felt a glow of victory.

“I’d hidden a gun in this ornamental rockery, it was only a few meters away and I managed to get to it.”

Blood had been pouring down her chest but she’d got to the gun and fired off five shots. Two had hit Foyet.

“He had to run… the gunshots would have more police on the way. I’m sure he was positive that I’d bleed out.”

It was a miracle she hadn’t. Only the fact Foyet had sliced at an angle and her ability to slow her breathing and as a result her heart rate had saved her.

“I was in an induced coma for weeks. When I was brought out of it Foyet was dead.” She turned back to Hotch. “You’d killed him.”

Hotch didn’t know what to say. What could you say to that? She’d gone through hell because she’d wanted him to be safe and be reunited with Jack. Her sigh drew him from his thoughts and as he returned his attention to her, she stood.

“I should go.”

She stood up and walked from the desk towards the door. She reached it and he still hadn’t said anything. Was it shock? Horror at what he’d just heard that rendered a man who had once made a career out of talking speechless.

Just as she went for the handle he was there.

Hotch grabbed her arm, spun her round and then his lips were coming down on hers hard. It reminded him of their first kiss. Guilt had been overwhelming him on that night too and she had been there. She was always there. The sweet taste of her pushing away the darkness and offering him escape.

For a second she’d been too stunned to react but as his fingers moved across her back, seeking the bottom of her sweater she was brought back to reality. She pushed him away, ignoring that small voice in her head which was urging him on.

“No. No, you don’t get to do that.” She said

“You don’t want me to kiss you?” He asked, his voice light and calm but at complete odds with the lust filling his eyes.

Anger quickly replaced any sense of desire and need she had felt for him. Anger that he would think he could just kiss her and she wouldn’t say anything after everything that had transpired between them. Did he really think it would be so easy?

“It doesn’t matter what I want because you broke up with me. That was your decision Hotch!”

“And it was the biggest mistake of my life.”

It was what she’d wanted to hear for so long. Actually hearing those words knocked the fight out of her. He regretted ending their relationship. Was he admitting that? Evidently that surprise was clear on her face because he sighed and ran his hand over his face.

“I never thought you’d leave. It never fucking occurred to me you’d quit and leave D.C.” Hotch told her.

“You thought you’d break my heart and I’d stick around?”

She couldn’t keep the pain from her voice and she didn’t want to. He needed to know how deeply he’d hurt her.

“I never wanted to cause you any pain.” Hotch said softly. “I needed to keep you safe.”

Safe?

An almost hysterical laugh bubbled forth and Emily couldn’t have stopped it if she tried. He was trying to keep her safe? It sounded ridiculous and by the time she could finally stop laughing nothing was funny.

“Well that worked out well, didn’t it?” She said with a shrug.

There was a split second when he thought she was going to burst into tears. He stepped forwards without thought, to take her in his arms and give her comfort but she jerked back.

“Did you forget about Beth?” Emily asked

The name was like a bucket of cold water. Yes, he had completely forgotten about her.

“Beth.” He murmured.

“Your girlfriend. You’ve been with her a while now.” Emily said

How could he have forgotten? Not made the simplest of connections. He was a profiler for god sake. Emily had told him that she’d been in charge of their security detail for months now; ensuring he and the others were safe wherever they went. That would include when he went to New York to visit Beth.

“She’s…” He swallowed. “She’s not…”

“Important?” Emily finished and gave him a pointed look. “We both know that’s not true. You don’t do anything casually and that definitely includes dating.”

Hotch had spent nights with her, weekends. That’s how Emily knew that it was serious. He didn’t do one-night stands or flings. He wasn’t that kind of man. She walked to the door and opened it, effectively ending whatever this was.

“I’ll see you on Monday.”

#extra long extra pain #sorry not sorry #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds #hotchniss #criminal minds fanfiction #bring on the angst

[onlymexsarah]

Imperfections (R.L)

Remus Lupin x UW!Reader (Under weight)

I read a lot of imagines with plus size readers, and i think it's something beautiful, but instead I've never read about a under weight reader, insecure of herself and her body, so here I am, with a Remus Lupin ready to cheer you up.

Prompts: “I wish you could see yourself with my eyes. So you would understand that I’m in love with you, all of you.”

Gif is mine🍃

P.s.: English is not my first language, please if you notice some mistakes let me now🥰

Also, I’m not used to write one-shots, I’m writing a book rn, this is a new experience, but I hope you like it🥺

Transfiguration, you had to study for your Transfiguration lesson. You couldn't let McGonagall find you unprepared, so you would stay in the library one more hour while your schoolmates eat their lunch, beside you weren't hungry at all.

"Are you sure you don't want to come?" Asked your boyfriend standing up and looking you with hopeful eyes. Remus Lupin was the best boyfriend someone could ask for; he was clever, funny, cute and with always something to comfort you in your bad days. You haven't exactly his mind, due the fact that you always forget something about homework, lessons or Prefect's meetings; and didn't care how much time you forgot things, he would always reminder you them.

"Don't worry Rems, I'll catch you up later. Just need one more minute." You said smiling standing up to give him a soft kiss on his lips. True must be told, he didn't know that you forgot sometime to eat too, but it wasn't a big deal for you, it was a normal routine not eating to save time for studying or sleeping.

"I'll see you there, love." He smiled giving you a kiss more intense than the first one, and then you were alone looking the book in front of you studying until the last line.

An hour passed before you brought yourself in the Great Hall ready to eat. You saw Remus in the corner of your eyes waiting for you with the Marauders, but that day you weren't so hungry, and you knew that Remus would be worried for you, so you decide to sit with your housemate instead to not let Remus see your almost empty plate.

The chicken was delicious, you wanted so badly to eat more about it, but you were done with one piece, so you stand up ready to go towards your boyfriend. You didn't know what you must had done to deserve him in your life, to deserve his love. Not only he was the perfect gentleman, but he was extremely attractive, and all the girls in the school knew you picked the perfect mix that someone could find in a boy.

"You alright? You didn't seat with us." Remus whispered to you when you reached each other out of the Great Hall.

"Yes, don't worry. I had to tell Snape a thing about Potion. We are partners now." You rolled your eyes thinking about Slughorn and his idea to put you with Snape instead with Remus. 

You wanted nothing more than cuddle in Remus’ arms, those arms that made you feel protected, loved and safe. You wanted to lay with him, kiss his scars and telling him how beautiful he was, you wanted to make him see himself in the same way you saw him, because you knew how it felt avoiding the mirrors afraid of what you might see, or looking your body and see nothing else but imperfections. 

So now you two were on his bed, your face on his torso with his arm around you and the other hand in your hairs, listening his heartbeat like you would listen your favourite song. The other three Marauders left you alone, going around the school pranking people, and you were fine with it as long as you two had time for yourselves. 

“How about Christmas’ holiday? My mum are cooking turkey, with her special recipe.” said Remus looking the ceiling of his canopied roof.

“I’m not going to meet your parents. Not yet, I promised my father I will be with him this Christmas.” you tried to sound convincing, but the idea of meeting Mr and Mrs Lupin terrifided you. Not because you were afraid of them, but you were scared of the idea about them thinking you were not enough for their son.

“Why not?! My mum can’t wait to cry with you during one of your favourite films!” he said laughing. 

You looked the boy under you astonished. “You-you told your mum that? Remus Lupin I’m going to kill you!”

You started to tickle him under his armpits, making him wriggling under you. You were sure that the boys in the next dorms could hear you two laugh, but you didn’t care because seeing Remus laughing was the best thing you’ve ever seen in your life. 

You got distracted for a second, a tiny little second that Remus took as an opportunity, so he reversed your positions, finding yourself between the bed and him. With his hands he grabbed your wrists pulling them on the pillow still laughing. 

“You have nothing to worry about, love.” he whispered before kissing you. You smiled in the kiss, feeling the butterflies in your stomach as you were used with him. He interview your right hand with his, letting go the other that you brough in his hairs keeping him close to you. 

Your hands seemed to be made to fit together, his big one was holding your petite one still on the pillow while the kiss got more intense. With his free hand started caressing your hips, gently as a true gentleman, but it was enough to make you lose your mind. You wanted to go on, you wanted him badly, but when his hand fell on your hip bone, you froze. He was leaving little kiss on your neck, thing that would make you crazy few moments ago, but now the only thing you could focus on was his hand touching one of the part of your body where the bones could be feel more. You blocked him, almost brutally, shifting away from under his weight and putting your shoes on ready to go away. 

“Y/N what happened? Did I do something...?” he asked afraid to have done something wrong toward her, feeling his ears burn. 

“No, no. You didn’t do anything wrong.” you said trying to not let your voice break. “I’ve just remebered I have an essay for tomorrow.”

You ran out of his common room, without looking the Marauders that teased you about your time alone with Remus, and when you were alone in the hallway you stopped sitting on the stones floor. Why you had to be so stupid? You were almost there, you were almost done with your insecurities, and it was enough a touch on your hips to make you panicking. You knew that Remus loved you because your intelligence, behaviour and other things you still had to find out, but you also knew that once he will see your body, he will understand that he could have someone better. Someone who is not you. 

You seemed a child, and you still acted in that way the days later, when you avoided him in all ways. You sit at your table with your fellows, sitting with your friends (who were not the Marauders) during lessons and sneaking away before he could pull all his things in his bag. 

Were you on the wrong side? Yes. Were you a coward? Also yes. Could you stop it? No. Your body was the problem that you had since years, and it wasn’t Remus’ fault if he didn’t know nothing, you just didn’t open up with him yet.

So now you were in the Owlery, cuddling your and Remus’ owls like you were used to do every week. You heard a noise in the stairs, but it could be some student you thought, so you kept feeding Remus’ owl.

“So you’re alive!” you froze without glacing back at the boy. “Hardly to tell since we haven’t see you for days.” James Potter could be the funniest guy  of the school, but if you hurt his friends he would make sure that you pay for it, and so you didn’t know what to do; never James had spoken to you with such venom in his voice. 

“Now you see me.” you walked toward the door ready to go away from him, but he stopped you with his voice.

“You know, I told him so!” you looked him confused. “I told him to break up with you a week ago, and you know what he said? He agreed with me.” your eyes bacame wet, trying to not cry in front of him as a child. “He wants to start a new chapter of his life, but he can’t do it if you two don’t break up. Take a move, alright? I don’t want to see him with someone like you. Someone who clearly doesn’t care about him. Who-”

“Prongs! What is happeing here?” Sirius arrived with Peter interrupting James who was burning you with his eyes, if his voice wasn’t already enough.

“Y/N are you fine?” asked Peter worried to see you like that for the first time. You were the stronger one, the girl who never cry, but in front of him, right now, there was a girl...broken.

“Yes, she’s fine. We had just had a talk, she was leaving.” said James without looking away from you. It was clear that he didn’t want to see you again, and you didn’t dare to look at Sirius because you were sure that you would finde the same look in his eyes. Instead you gave a weak smile to Peter, the only one who seemed worried for you, and then you leave wiping away the few tears that fell on your cheeks.

“What the hell is wrong with you?! Remus would never dream to leave her, and surely you would never say something like that to him! You care too much about her too to hate her.” Sirius said angrily to his mate while the curly boy was sending a owl that Peter guessed was for Lily.

“We know her, it was the only way to make Y/N take a move. I bet that she is going to speak with Remus right now.” he smirked pleased with himself.

“I can’t decide if you are extremely stupid or a genius.” said Peter running a hand through his hair. 

“We’ll see, Peter, we’ll see.” 

***

James was right, you wanted to speak with Remus, if it was true that he wanted to break up, then you would give him the opportunity, even if the thought broke your heart. When you passed in front of the Great Hall you stopped confused seeing everyone inside, and looking your wrist watch you saw that it was dinner time. This meant that the Astronomy Tower was free, so you walked toward it forgetting about the dinner and hoping that you could spend a night alone with the stars. 

You were sit with your back leaning against the wall, looking the sky, when the door opened and Remus were relief to see you there. “Knew you weere here.” You glaced at him quickly, surprised to hear his voice as soft as you remembered. Wasn’t he angry with you? So why he was there, with a plate full of food in front of you with his kind smile. “I saw you didn’t eat anything tonight, so I brought you something.” he rubbed his neck with his free hand turning in a soft shape of pink that you couldn’t notice due the weak light of the moon. 

“Yeah, I’m not really hungry. But...thanks.” you gave him a soft smile moving uncomfortable in your position. Should you start to speak? Should you wait him to take the first move? You were on the wrong side, you had to speak first, so when he sat beside you shyly, you took a deep breath. “I know why you’re here...and I’m really sorry.” your voice cracked and you looked away. “I’m so sorry, Remus. H-he told me you were thinking about that since a week and it’s fine...” no it wasn’t. “I understand why you want to break up with me. I’m just sorry for how I was toward you these days, I wasn’t angry with you, I swear...” You wiped away the tears with your hands trying to compose yourself. You were not going to cry in front of him, you had no right to cry.

“WHAT? Who told you- Me breaking with- what are you talking about?” he asked astonished looking your confused face.

“James told me you are thinking about breaking up with me since a week...” you said uncertain. 

“Such a dickhead! I can’t believe he told you so, he saw me crying thinking about that YOU wanted breaking up with me!” he moved his hands in the air and you looked him astonished. He hadn’t realized what he said until his eyes met yours. “Well, I wasn’t literally crying... just you know, the full moon is in three days and I get a bit too emotional.” you looked him amused while he tried to find an excuse making you laugh. “it could have been few drops of water, it was hot so I was sweating too.” 

“Oh yeah sure. Few drops of water, yes.” you giggled looking him finding his beautiful smile while his eyes were on you. You had to tell him, you own him. “I have to tell you something, I know I have been awfull toward you, and it’s not your fault. Blimey Remus, I could never think a life without you, not say breaking up with you.”

He left a breath of reliefe keeping listening you carefully. “That night...did I put pressure on you? You didn’t want to...” he blushed without finishing his sentece.

“No, no, no. I want you! I can’t believe I’m saying this out loud, but you have no idea about the thoughts that I have when we are together.” You looked away shyly; taking a deep breath you stood up torturing your hands. “I don’t eat, and it took me to be under weight. The healers say I have to do more meals during the day but I can’t! I-”

He stood up, getting closer to you and wiping away the tears that were falling from your eyes. He wanted hug you so much, but he knew he had to leave you let out everything you kept for yourself for years.

“You know how forgetful I am, and with all the things that happen in a day I forget that I must eat, beacuse I’m never so hungry to notice it. This is why sometime I didn’t sit with you, because I didn’t want to let you see how little I ate...” you were looking down, ashamed by how you were.

He took your hands in his owns. “I know.”

Your eyes shifted on his face suddenly confused, did he know? “What?”

“Honestly, what kind of boyfriend i would be if I don’t notice that my girlfriend eats less than everyone else, or that she doesn’t eat at all? I kinda know how to recognize when someone has a secret.” he shrugged innocently. “But I’ve never said anything because I know you, and I know that you would tell me when you would be ready. I still don’t get the problem, though...”

How he could not see the problem?  “The problem is, that everyone think if you are thin then you have a perfect body. Well it’s not! I have not a perfect body, actually I hate it! With all the clotes on it seem that my body is ‘normal’ for the standard of the people, but without them...” you felt a strange anger inside you, anger toward the people that never cared about your feeling just because you were ‘thin’, without thinking that you could have not like your body. “Without them it’s full of imperfection! But of course, I’m thin so I must be happy, right? I am not, because be thin is not cool. People think that when you are thin you have no problems, I don’t know the others, but surely not when you are as thin as me.” 

You had walked away from him, too angry to stay still, and now you were taking deep breaths trying to calm down. Remus came in front of you slowly, understanding your all point. “Are you really talking abour imperfection with someone who has scars on all his body?” 

“You know that I love your scars.” you rolled your eyes looking everyshere but him and wiping away the last tears.

“And I love you. Again, I don’t see the problem.” his smile made you ask if you spoke english or not, the problem was evident.

“You are used to see me like that; clotes, make up, with my awesome personality and intelligence.” you joked a little. “But I don’t know if you will still love me if I show you everything. I mean, I don’t love me too, so why should you do it?” 

He felt sad suddenly, it hurted him see you like that; see you full of insecurities like him. For him, you were the most beautiful girl in the world, didn’t matter how much imperfections you had. “ I wish you could see yourself with my eyes. So you would understand that I’m in love with you, all of you. I don’t care about some imperfections, those are the things that make me understamd how much you are perfect to me.” 

“I love you too.” You whispered back, without knowing what to say. 

He kissed you softly, caressing your cheek with one hand and wrapping the other around you. You brought your hands behind his neck smiling, you have been such a idiot, avoiding him for days have been the most difficult thing to do; you needed him like the air. “And then, I’m curious about those thounghts of yours.”

He joked keeping his forehead resting on yours, and you blushed a little. “Sure, but now I’m hungry.” you took his tie pulling him down again to kiss him, knowing that he will always love you as you are. 

#remus lupin x reader #Remus Lupin #the marauders #James Potter #Sirius Black #peter pettigrew #marauders era #marauders x reader #hogwarts #Harry Potter #love