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harknesskc · 1 year

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The Breedverse: Connections in the Morning

My first post here! This is my first piece in an eventually expansive setting I refer to as the Breedverse. I'll expand on the concept and some specifics about it in later posts.

If you'd rather read here, please continue on down below!

If you forgot about the Interspecies Habitation Engineer on your ship, they were doing their job right. The whole job was about keeping all of the different species of a crew happy and comfortable, preferably without them noticing you. For that reason, Ed was always happy to keep her schedule slightly off from the rest of the crew. Nothing too wild of course, no one would appreciate having someone barge into their room in the early hours of the morning to test the atmosphere of their room while they were trying to sleep. Just enough so that the majority of her work happened when everyone else was otherwise occupied. However, more importantly, the long morning showers she enjoyed didn’t interrupt anyone else’s half-awake, bleary eyed morning routine.

The open, communal-style showers of the The Chains Are Broken With Our Combined Effort were fairly utilitarian and yet, to Ed, they were still warm and welcoming. They reminded the short, sandy skinned young woman of the bathing facilities closer to the engineering spaces back home in the Human Fleet. While those were nice, what she really missed were the open air baths that dominated the larger public spaces of her home ship, the HV Chakrabarti, much like the other fleet ships. Back before she left home, going for a soak with her friends after classes were over was always a welcomed way to spend afternoons. Now, while the natural sponge against her skin was as nice as it usually was, the care and comfort of a friendly using it was sorely missed.

Shortly after her shower began, heavy, rhythmic taps against metal behind her startled Ed from her fond memories. She looked over her suds-covered shoulder to see the fogged glass door to the room slide open to reveal… honestly the last person she wanted to deal with first thing in the morning. Ang’to paused his large, muscular, lupine body in the doorway. His long, canid face wrinkled as his nose instinctively sampled the air of the room before his fierce inky black and blazing orange eyes fell on her. So much for a peaceful morning, Ed thought without a roll of her eyes as she began to scrub at her legs.

To her surprise, instead of leaving, Ang’to ended up padding over standing next to her at the central shower pillar, the door closing behind them and sealing in the warmth once more. Twice as long as she was tall, and two heads taller, he could have easily taken up at least three spots at the shower pillar. Even as he sat on his back haunches under a new stream of water, quadrupedal lower half resembling some powerful stalking predator, Ang’to easily crowded the spaces on either side of him. Ed watched a little curiously as Ang’to had to angle his head a bit to face getting a majority of the water straight to the muzzle and in his pointed ears. Maybe it would be a good idea to consider a refurb of the showers. As much of a crankass as he was, everyone should be able to enjoy a relaxing shower without having to try and fit themselves into such a small space.

“Good morning, Ang’to,'' said Ed. “Tu’ako cha.” She added automatically. It felt a little silly to say, despite the various forms of the greeting as familiar to her lips as her own name. Human intimacy, as she had discovered, was an anomaly amongst most alien species. She was graced with a quick glance and silence for all her troubles. Inwardly, Ed sighed in frustration at his cold demeanor. How could anyone be so dismissive in the warm embrace of a shower? “I was thinking,” She said, attempting a different approach. “If Fargoth would sign off on it, about upgrading our showers. I’ve noticed that it’s not really convenient for anyone who is particularly tall.” Ang’to said nothing. “Which is y’know, like half of us.”

“I don’t require your concern.” He said in a quiet huff, turning his head to face away from her on the opposite side of the spray of water.

The short human pursed her lips in annoyance at being rebuffed again. “Barakek is a pretty arid planet, right?”

Ang’to growled out a dismissive, but affirmative grunt.

“If you don’t mind me asking, how did your people bathe?”

Ang’to didn’t respond immediately and instead continued to scrub his lean, muscled chest while staring off towards the wall. Ed almost assumed he either didn’t hear her question or he was just choosing to ignore her like usual. In either case, she would have left it there if he didn’t want to answer, but Ang’to shifted a little and took in a short breath, preparing to speak.

“Depends.” He said, less-than-helpfully. Ed waited a few beats, then opened her mouth before he continued. “My clan was that of the Long Day, preferring to move with our sun.” His tone was more subdued than its usual gruff dismissiveness.

“Yes, I read you’re a migratory species.” Ed added, doing her best to show her interest.

The quadrupedal lower-half of Ang’to’s body relaxed, resting sideways on a hip instead of its previously rigid posture. His sponge had stopped in his clawed hand at his slim stomach where his body began to transition from a more familiar bipedal shape to its lupine shape. “We would stay for the growing season. Long ago our species would hunt available prey, but now it is to grow our crops. Our caravan cities use hydroponics bolstered by the intense sun to make plentiful food.”

Ed smiled. “It sounds nice.”

Ang’to looked at her, seemingly remembering who he was speaking to. “Yes,” He said in his gruff tone again. “Dust baths when we were lacking excess water. Rain was enjoyed as the blessing it is. A source of celebration and cleansing. If we came across ample pools, we would bathe within after ensuring there was enough water available for the caravan.” He resumed cleaning himself. “Ample water was a rare luxury. The clan of the Long Sun traded with those of the Grey Sky. Food for water.”

“Is that Solsun’s clan?” Asked the tanned human, referring to the much paler skinned Tog’rashek on the ship. He was thinner and overall smaller than Ang’to. Also much generally much more personable.

Ang’to snorted softly. “No. He is a Star Seeker, they follow the Long Night.” He said, looking up at the dull brushed metal of the ceiling above them. “Magicians, seers, wisdom speakers; Completely useless, all of them.” Like a distance roll of thunder, a chuckle softly escaped him.

“That sounds… a bit harsh.” Ed said, though couldn’t help a small grin.

“Do not feign ignorance.” Ang’to said, tone soft yet scolding. “As he is, so are much of his caravan. We bring food, the Mud Tredders bring water. They give us ‘guidance’ and ‘knowledge’.” He looked down to Ed. “If not for them, we would still be on Bak’rakek and continuing on as we have since the beginning. Tell me, human, what do we have to gain from being in the stars? Do we follow our sun closer? Do we chase the fleeting rains? No, we lose sight of our horizon and move ever forward to unknown lands.” His tone has turned almost… mournful.

The sudden change in the man’s mood almost startled Ed. The evergrump of the ship sounded as homesick as she felt sometimes. Ang’to always seemed to bury himself in his work with the ship's hydroponics with a strange revel. Was it just because it reminded him of home? Ed had never stepped foot on a planet, but she still felt the pang of being far from home. Mornings like this would have been spent soaking up to her chin in a hot bath before spending a day elbow deep in some environmental control system. Another bath would follow the work day with friends clustered together, scrubbing away the rigors and dirt of the day, playful touches would tease out laughs and cries of surprise.

A smile found its way to Ed’s face at the fond thoughts before she looked up to Ang’to who had busied himself again. “I’m sorry, Ang’to.” She said. He looked at her with narrowed eyes, curious and cautious. “I had assumed you were too stoic to care where you were. I did not take into account that you may love and miss your home just as much as I love and miss mine.” Turning fully towards him, she bent at the waist, partially bowing. “Forgive my lack of empathy.”

Confusion marred Ang’to’s normally calm and collected features. He stared at her silently for several heartbeats before he let out a growl. “You are forgiven, this time.” Ang’to grunted.

Now far beyond finished with her shower, Ed turned off her water and simply enjoyed the heat of the room, still standing near Ang’to. She let her forest green eyes roam the fairly simple and plain room, quietly considering what she would change to accommodate everyone’s needs while improving its overall appeal. Hearing Ang’to speak of the blessings of rain conjured up images of sectional overhead rain-like ceiling mounts to let the crew each have their own individual rainstorms to enjoy. It sounded lovely. Perhaps she could even convince Captain Fargoth to let her put in a small soaking tub.

“What does it mean?” Ang’to suddenly asked. He seemed to have been watching her as she daydreamed. For all the abhorrence of her carnivorous moments, in that moment through the thick steam, he looked like some sort of ancient Earth predator, eyes peering through the mists of some long forgotten jungle.

“What does what mean?”

“Your words, ‘tu’ako cha’? You say things like that often. Why?”

Ed laughed a little and shrugged. “Old habit from the Fleet. I am telling you what sort of touch I consent to.”

Ang’to scoffed a bit, beginning to rinse the suds off his upper body. “Humans are such deviant creatures.” It wasn’t disgust in his voice, but certainly not humor. Ed shrugged a little as she turned towards one of the little towel warming lockers soon after she arrived. Dry, fluffy towels were a much nicer option than damp, heavy ones after a long shower. “What did you say you consent to?” Ang’to asked. His tone was still its quiet rumble, but it carried across through the steam as if he was within arms reach.

“I was telling you you can touch me as a friend. You can help me wash and hold me for comfort. It is our usual greeting in the Fleet.” She dropped the towel on top of her short, dark and and thoroughly ruffled it without much thought. She had expected Ang’to to accept the answer without response. Instead she found a large, rough hand cupping the side of her neck.

His hand was easily large enough to wrap around her entire neck with room left over, but it simply pressed cupped against the side where her pulse calmly rested while his thumb rested over head throat. The other plucked the towel away from her face. “We greet like this. A sign of trust.” Ed remained still as he took her hand and mirrored its placement to his. Her hand was just large enough to cup the side of his exposed, muscular neck, thumb only barely brushing his windpipe. Ang’to looked down at her with his steely expression and burning coal eyes. This close up and with a hand on Ed’s throat, he was even more imposing than usual. “You seem to put trust in me, despite our differences,” the pad of his thumb brushed over the center of her throat and the ridge of her larynx. “So I will put my trust in you as well.” Ang’to leaned forward a bit. “For now, little human.” Reaching back up with his other hand, he dropped Ed’s towel back over her head.

Later, Kiki, Thezet, and Solsun would have a debate about which one was plotting to murder the other when Ang’to didn’t threaten to skin her even once for the whole day.

#aliens and humans #hfy #interspecies #scifi writing #science fiction #Breedverse

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modmad · 6 years

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My old piano teacher, Roger Shelmerdine, is a great guy and writes songs! He often organises events with choirs, and he very kindly asked if I would illustrate some selected sections of lyrics for a concert (which was held yesterday evening and went very well) for this year’s Remembrance Day and the 100th anniversary of the end of WWI. Apparently the kids from the primary school choir, who did a fantastic job, really liked these, so hopefully you will too!

The last one with the boy and the gun is a song based off a real story about a boy called Sidney who lied about his age and entered the army at the age of 12. I wanted the size of the gun and the hugeness of the hand to sort of describe how obvious it must have been and how eager the adults involved were to overlook it all. Part of the song goes like this-

"An officer am I, and recruitment is my aim,

I'm paid the sum of 'two and six' for ev'ry single name.

The more that sign the dotted line, the more that I can earn-

and so I turn a blind eye to every 'age' concern."

#commission #illustration #ww1 centenary #ww1 #rememberance day #mod art #really nice to go back to this inky style #I should use it more

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aspiring-holistic-otaku · 3 years

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ok so here's the top 10 new manga I read this year (2020)

10. jujutsu kaisen

don't think much needs to be said here, it got an anime recently so it's been picking up steam but it's been good for a little while now, it's ongoing with 133 chapters so far and a big arc seems to be wrapping up right now so it's a good time to start

9. sidooh

samurai manga I picked up a few months ago following two brothers whose mother dies when leaving them with the last words "it is the fate of the weak to die", giving them an obsession with strength that leads them to fight their way up into their ranks of society, really great progression, great story and amazing aesthetic, interesting art style that's very inky but goes well with sword strokes and stuff like that, it's ongoing with 224 chapter so far and about two or three come out every month

8. my home hero

a doting father realizes his daughter is in danger and kills someone to protect her but the person he kills turns out to be linked to the Yakuza, he's a mystery book author and uses his knowledge to hide the body but some traces lead back to him and it leads into an ever unfolding battle with the Yakuza and police, currently ongoing with 79 chapters that come out approximately once a week

7. made in abyss

Don't think much needs to be said here again but, made in the abyss is a deceptively cutesy looking manga about a child looking for her mother in the deepest depths of the earth that hold the world's greatest mystery, on her journey she faces the most inhumane and monstrous things, currently has 56 chapters in frequent release dates but it's nearing the end so it might be a good time to pick it up if you haven't

6. usogui

as you can probably guess it's about gambling, really interesting mind game kind of manga with very nice action scenes sprinkled in and the illustrations are beautiful, that point cannot be understated (though to be fair it only really picks up in the art department & stays consistent around chapter 69), one of my favorite things about this was that the gambles themselves were actually really interesting and not just regular gambles slightly modified with ultra high stakes, it actually finished like 2 months ago with 539 chapters so everyone who picks it up from now on is really lucky to be able to read this in one go

5. clover

I had a phase earlier this year where I wanted to check out some delinquent manga and a friend of mine put me onto this as one of the classics and he was absolutely right it's amazing, it follows the same formula of new guy in town and meets a bunch of people who become friends but the camaraderie was really excellently done and the growth of all the characters and their different arcs was really something to see, like usogui the art didn't start out as nice as the picture I used but it does pick up and when it picks up it just picks up consistently and seeing the art and the story progress at the same time is something that's really nice, it's complete with 401 chapters

4. naruto (yes I really only read it for the first time this year)

not sure I need to say much here either,,, not sure why I didn't read it earlier but I'm glad I did, it's really good, I think it's greatness is undercut by a few weak moments that weren't even that bad and a couple under utilized characters in a cast that's really large anyways so... but really a touching story of bonds and the passing of the torch and how we treat one another and the effects that has down the line, complete with 700 chapters

3. setoutsumi

a nice, highly comedic slice of life, really funny with some serious down to earth moments and lessons, a really touching ending, complete with only 73 chapters, highly recommend, really good (I actually read it twice back to back, that good)

2. yotsuba to!

YOTSUBA!!!! just the life of a curious kid, her dad n those around them but like... it's 99% impossible to be in a bad mood while reading this, gotten me out of a funk more times than I can count, genuinely funny, beautiful illustrations, wish I could be like them, ongoing with 107 chapters and an irregular release schedule (also it's by the same guy that did nichijou)

1. golden kamuy

man... such a goated manga, actually saw it on here a few years ago but just got to it this year, very hard to accurately describe without understating how good it is so I won't even try honestly but it's ridiculously funny, amazing action sequences, one of the best cast of characters I've ever seen just absolutely brilliant, currently ongoing with 263 chapters but it looks like it might be wrapping up in like a year or two so it's a great time to pick it up, absolutely definitely highly recommend

honourable mentions:

1. dead dead demon's dededede destruction

2. toilet bound hanako kun

3. kimetsu no yaiba

4. blue flag

5. gokushufudou: the way of the house husband

6. acca 13 territory inspection department

7. blue period

8. welcome to the ballroom

9. beastars

10. spy x family

PS: gonna go ahead and shamelessly mention that I also run an animanga aesthetic sideblog over @moodthroughmanga you can check out if you're into that kind of thing

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dustofbrokenheart · 3 years

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The Lost Boys: Summer Nights

Dwayne x Reader

Word Count: 987

Summary: Dwayne and reader enjoy a summer night walk on the beach.

Fingers intertwined tightly and swung in the middle of the two of you. You were walking, filling Dwayne in on what had happened during your day.

It was a common occurrence. Not only were you an item, but it was often cathartic for you to vent about your life and it was nice for Dwayne to listen to what happened during the day of a normal life, emphasis on the day part.

Knowing that, you made to sure to describe the sky in between the events of your story.

“The sun radiant today, downright simmering but there was a breeze, which was nice because I didn’t completely sweat through my shirt when I walked to grab lunch. But can you believe that when I got back, Margaret had me…”

Dwayne smiled, a little gentle lift of his lips, as he listened to you. On most summer nights, he brought you to the beach. Ocean waves crashed in the background as you walked an isolated part of the beach.

Your voice was passionate yet it never failed to sooth him. By that point, he was so familiar with your work situation that he knew every single person. He knew their personalities, their motivations, and, most importantly, which of them you liked and which you disliked.

Margaret was firmly in the dislike category.

Despite knowing how you would react, he still offered. “I could always take care of her for you.”

Your eyes were pleased but you made sure to firmly set him straight. “I keep telling you, Dwayne. You can’t go around offing people that make my life difficult.”

He shrugged, his heavy leather jacket riding up his exposed stomach. “As long as you know the offer is there.”

Bumping your head into his shoulders in an attempt to hide your face, you instead squeezed his hand.

You were sure that if your well being and safety ever was in jeopardy, he wouldn’t hesitate to kill for you. It was a strangely sweet and a little problematic, but you chose to focus on the sweet part and not what it said about you.

“Any way, she claimed that it would—” You were caught by surprise when Dwayne swept you up, bridal style, and rushed toward the water. It didn’t take long to realize what he was up to.

“Dwayne!” you screamed. “Do not, dump me—”

Once again, you were cut off as you were submerged in cool, salty water. In the night, it was impossible for you to make out anything, the ocean seeming like an endless inky void. It lasted only moments until you were gasping as Dwayne pulled you up.

He was laughing. Your clothes were suctioned skin-tight to your body and your hair was plastered into your face, and he was laughing.

“Looked like you needed to cool down,” he tried to say in between laughs. “You were getting pretty worked up.”

In a small act of revenge, you splashed water into his face. You weren’t legitimately mad but you’d be damned if you were the only one who got soaked.

“Guess I deserved that,” he said, gently stroking your cheeks.

Carrying you to the sand with water trailing behind, he deposited you on the ground and crawled in behind you. Words weren’t needed as you laid there together under the dim light of the moon.

Until you shivered, that is. It may have been summer but it still got cold after the sun went down, especially when you were dripping water.

“Shit,” he murmured, arms wrapping around you even tighter. “Sorry. I should’ve known you’d get cold.”

You tried your best to soothe him with soft kisses to his stubbled chin. “It won’t kill me, I just need to warm up a bit.”

Reading the thinly disguised ploy for more kisses, he gladly indulged you.

Hefting himself up onto his forearms, his dipped down in a practiced motion, chasing your lips with his own. They were a little chapped and his stubble poked at your chin, but it didn’t matter.

Kissing Dwayne was always an experience.

His mouth was smooth, the weight of him grounding where he pressed down on your front. You didn’t even care that your hair was about to be caked in sand, you thought as you gripped his forearms, the muscle flexing under your touch.

Peeking through your lashes, you saw his eyes burn the tell-tale mottled yellow that signaled his vampiric instincts, as well as the fact that he was really turned on. Eyelids fluttering shut again, you pressed even deeper into the kiss, doing that thing with your tongue that drove him wild in anticipation that things were about to heat up even more.

That is until he pulled back, sucking on your bottom lip as he left you panting. “Better?”

“Better,” you replied dreamily. His soft breath stirred your damp hair as he stroked it off your face, snuggling you closer. You nestled in, muscles completely warmed and still trembling.

It seemed like he was done for now though, no matter how you tried to entice him. Damn him for knowing how much you actually would complain about the sand if he managed to get you naked.

“Good. Wanna talk about Margaret some more?” he asked teasingly.

“Yep. Mood’s completely gone. Please don’t bring her up when we do these kinds of things, it makes we want to recoil in horror.”

“Good,” he said again. Your brows raised in disbelief which he tried to smooth back down with his thumb. “Because I was thinking, if you wanted to, we could head to your place to continue. A bed is…less sandy.”

Catching on quickly, you nodded. A bed. A bed sounded good. Excellent even.

Peels of laughter tore out of you and echoed along the coast as he scooped you up and started running. He moved a lot faster than you could, after all.

Summer nights, really were the best.

_______________

I wanted to write something short and sweet for my favorite boy before my birthday month is up. Hope you enjoyed reading! Thanks for checking it out!

#the lost boys #the lost boys dwayne #dwayne the lost boys #the lost boys x reader #the lost boys imagines

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whirlybirbs · 3 years

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maybe something quick? like a 'you awake?’ w/ alistair? our local lovable beef cake?

; THE FINER POINTS OF FRIENDSHIP —

summary: you’ll admit, you’re not a big fan of the dark. alistair thinks it’s cute. you just have to pee.

pairing: alistair theirin / warden!reader

word count: 1k

a/n: me, watching alistair’s romance again on youtube: ah this is the good shit huh whew!!! anyways please enjoy!!!

“Alistair?”

It’s a hiss of a whisper that jolts the tawny-haired Grey Warden out of his sleep. Alistair can’t help but reflexively uncurl himself from the scratchy woolen throw that he’d been unceremoniously having a cuddle with; he can’t help the way his eyes flick about in sleep-laden panic. Alistair is quick to throw himself straight up at the waist, head snapping towards the direction of the sound, all with his eyes half-open.

The cowlick in his hair seems just about as startled as him.

The light is dying from the fire in the center of camp and he can see the dimming light bounce and bobble through the crack in his tent’s linen door. Alistair goes still, wondering if what he heard was just a product of those increasingly more pesky lil’ night-terrors or —

Again, the call of his name.

“Alistair!”

This time, the whisper is followed by a shadow (a stumbling one, at that, who looks more like a half-drunk, new-born baby deer from this angle) that yanks the flap to his tent’s entrance open.

Oh.

It’s you.

His hands tighten in his woolen blanket as he tries his hardest to ignore the poke of your bare legs from beneath your sleeping tunic — and the way your hair sways as you duck down and under the flap... and the knock of your knees as you crawl half-way into the tent and gawk up at him with this horrifically adorable pleading look.

Maker help him. You are beautiful.

Cousland. You’re a noble — it shows, still, despite all else. And yet, you are your father’s daughter, Fergus’ sister... The daughter of the ruling house of Highever and an unabashedly talented woman with a dagger and bow. You’d said you got that little skill set from your mother, but...

Well, Alistair didn’t pry. That wound was still awfully fresh.

Despite being a Warden, despite being a roguish devil on the battlefield...

“Are you awake?” you ask, eyes a bit wide as Alistair just blinks back at you in the darkness.

You feel stupid the moment the question even leaves your mouth, but you can’t help it. Alistair is clearly awake, though the low timbre of his voice begs to differ. You watch as the Grey Warden pushes his hand through the firey mop of hair on his head and groans quietly. The freckles that smatter his warm skin are distracting. You watch as his arm bows, and realize there are more along his forearms and poking out from his tunic’s sleeve.

This tent seems too small for the ex-Templar — though in travel and in battle, Alistair is a force of his own, you find yourself forgetting just how... big he is. And now, it’s slapping you in the face in these small quarters. Well over six feet and strong enough to wear heavy plate with not a single complaint, Alistair Theirin is a warrior.

... Okay, maybe a few complaints. But, that was all a part of his charm, wasn’t it? Right?

Maker help you.

You shift uselessly in all fours and avert your eyes.

“Well, if I wasn’t before,” he says mid-yawn, “I am now... What has you crawling into my tent at this hour, my lady?”

You flick his ear. He yelps. He should have anticipated that.

This ‘friendship’ (if that’s what he can even call it) is still new, taking shape, becoming something solid. But, he’s learned what sort of buttons to press to get a good little reaction out of you already. It’s cute.

Someone doesn’t take too kindly to being reminded of her near royal status.

(Alistair can’t really say he blames her.)

“I need to pee,” you suddenly blurt.

Alistair’s thoughts come to a rather abrupt halt as he sits there and blinks at you. Big, warm, honey-colored eyes quirk with a sudden burst of amusement. Regret instantly bubbles in your throat.

“...And?” he waves his hands along, “Am I supposed to... carry the chamberpot out for you, my grace?”

“And,” you groan, head dropping as your hair swims around you. Free from its war-born stylings, its tangled tresses scream of sleep, “And I keep hearing these noises from the woods —”

“Maker,” Alistair cracks a smirk, “Is the lady a bit scared of the dark?”

Another flick. This time his nose.

“Quit calling me that, will you?” you huff, eyes shifting over your shoulder and towards the inky black darkness that has swallowed up the camp. The campfire has dwindled, now mere coals flitting in ash, “I just... Will you just make sure some darkspawn doesn’t eat me while I pee? I’ve had to go for an hour now.”

“What’s the magic word?”

“...Murder?”

“Usually,” he chirps, moving to stand and bend half-way just to slip out the tent’s flaps, “But I’m referencing the other magic word. Starts with a ‘puh’ and ends with a ‘lease, Alistair?’”

As you move to stand, his voice dips into a mocking swoon. You’re sure that if you turn around, you’ll see him batting those eyelashes and knotting his fingers together... Your dignity crumples when you do and even more so when he doesn’t budge when he’s met with your stubborn silence.

Behind you, in the woods, there’s a distant snarl of some animal and a pained yip. You cringe and knock your knees together a bit tighter.

"Please?” you grit out, frowning solidly.

“Please, who?”

“Maker give me strength,” you groan, “Please, Alistair?”

Alistair, in all his midnight chipperness, grins. “Lead the way, my lady. I prefer that big oak tree to the right... good support, nice coverage, far enough away that no one can hear the steady stream...”

You’re already walking away — wondering if maybe getting eaten by hungry wolves would be easier to stomach than dealing with Alistair’s sudden pride at being picked for this intimate display of trust. But... This is what friends do, right? They look out for one another.

Especially when they have to pee.

#dragon age imagine #alistair theirin x reader #alistair theirin x cousland #alistair theirin x warden #alistair x cousland #alistair x warden #alistair x reader #HEHEHEHEHEHE

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specialbrewbutterbeer · 3 years

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Im Not In Love (Sirius Black x Pureblood!Reader)

Masterlist (X)

Requests Page (X)

He met her in the spring of their fourth year at school. Somehow they had never properly been introduced, but they’d seen each-other around. Sirus was still a bouncy young boy really, she was a naive girl who was looking for fun, so they eventually gelled quite nicely when they were sat beside each other in potions.

“I’m Sirius-” he had begun, putting out his hand firmly to her, a habit he hadn’t yet shaken from his parents etiquette lessons, and she laughed at him.

“I know who you are!” She had beamed with an ever so slightly crooked smile. “Sirius Black? The troublemaker- not to mention we’ve been in the same classes for three and bit years” She chuckled once again and seemed to have caught him quite off guard. He didn’t usually encounter people as bold as he (usually) was, let alone girls who were. She took his still outstretched hand and shook it vigorously.

“I’m (Y/n).” She introduced herself, and then turned away from him, opened her text book and proptly didn’t speak to him for another half an hour.

Really Sirius had no right to be so bewildered, but he was. For once he sat in class quietly and payed attention. She wasn’t unfriendly by any means, she often initiated some small conversation and always said goodbye to him before she left class, but Sirius was rather unused to being the shy one in the partnership, and didn’t have a clue on what to do in that role.

Unfortunately for him, his teachers had noticed quite what was going on, and soon he was sat next to (Y/n) in herbology, transfiguration and charms too. This put him off a little- being separated from his friends wasn’t really his style and he quite genuinely had no idea how to approach this girl. So it was (Y/n) that made the first move.

“Sirius?” She asked, as he stared at the blackboard, trying to take in some type of complex explanation as to why you should never mix two obscure potions together.

“Sirius?" (Y/n) repeated herself and waved a hand in-front of his face.

"Yes?” He finally answered, coming back to the real world, from whatever he was daydreaming about- certainly not potions.

“Sirus, this class is boring” She whispered, as their teacher glanced over at them.

“Yes?” He simply repeated, this time with an air of uncertainty in his response- as if he wasn’t quite sure if he had actually even been asked a question at all.

(Y/n) smiled.

“You’re funny Black, I was under the impression that you were fun- but in the month we’ve sat next to each-other you’ve barely spoken a word to me” she fiddled with the end of her feather quill.

“If you’re not careful I’ll start thinking you don’t like me.” She laughed again. He didn’t understand quite what she always found so funny, it was starting to grate on him a little.

“No-” He blurted out, a little louder than he would have liked. “You’re fine, I’ve just been…” He glanced down at his exercise book and brushed his hand over the inky page. “Studying. Is all.” Sirius gave the explanation in such a passive and oddly meek voice that it was very odd hearing it come out of his mouth.

She looked at him for a moment, and furrowed her brow, as if trying to figure him out, before finally giving in.

“Alright.” She smiled again. “I mean I’ve never really taken you for an academic Black, but I must have thought wrong.” Sirius appeared satisfied with his deception, and tried to turn back to the deeply dull lesson they were in, but she began again.

“That doesn’t mean this lesson isn’t boring though, I think you’ll agree, so I think it’s time we spoke at least a little. After all, we are stuck like this in four classes for the rest of the year.”

She was quite insistent, so what could he do? He gave in.

It was then that the pair became properly amicable, and Sirus learnt that the girl was in fact not irritating or too loud, but rather just as irritating and loud as he was, and was much more fun than he had expected.

Sirius began to look forward to those lessons with (Y/n). She teased him plenty, for how particular he was about his hair, or how he sometimes slipped into such a formal way of speaking- especially after the holidays. But, she was fun. She used to poke him in the ribs and under their breaths would then take the mick out of their teachers and the funny things they did.

And he was a perfect distraction from (Y/n)’s studies. She hated potions anyway, and it was much more fun if the pair ‘accidentally’ added too much of something that made their cauldron bubble over or begin to spark wild and exotic colours.

Even so, (Y/n) never really met the rest of Sirius’ friends, and he never met hers. They didn’t speak much outside of class- or they didn’t until summer rolled around.

Sirius, James, Remus and Peter were all sat in the shade in the courtyard on the second to last day of the school year. It was hot and sticky and everyone in the school was lazing around in the halls and anywhere shady and cool after classes had ended for the day.

(Y/n) was walking through the courtyard with a friend when she spotted him out of the corner of her eye. She sent her friend on ahead and turned back, walking toward Sirus, who was lying on his back on the cobblestones, with the other boys lazing about similarly around him.

“Hey look, Sirius- it’s that girl you sit next to.” James pointed out, causing Sirius to sit up, leaning back on the heels of his palms, and squint in her general direction.

She waved, her classic smile beaming toward the group.

“Hi” she called when she was close enough. Sirius waved back, as did the others.

“Evenin' (Y/n)” He greeted calmly, still squinting up at her, sunlight streaming from behind her. “How can we help you?” Sirius asked as she came to a stop before him.

“I wanted to ask a favour? Could I borrow your transfiguration text book just a couple of day longer? I need to finish copying a few things up before summer.” She asked him, and as she did, Sirius wondered if she was batting her eyelashes at him on purpose or if she didn’t know she was doing it at all. Either way he would have let her have the book, eyelashes or no.

“You can keep it as long as you want-” He answered hastily. “You can always owl it back to me when you’re done?” He suggested “My address is in the front cover.”“ He added, again, slightly too quickly.

"Alright” Her smile widened even more, and her cheeks got a slight pinkness to them. She nodded before heading back toward the direction her friend had gone- turning back momentarily to wave goodbye and shout “Thank you!” To him, and then disappearing inside.

As soon as she was out of sight Remus nudged Sirius with his foot, as his eyes still lingered where he had watched her go.

“What?” He finally turned to his friends, only to find all three of them with dumb smirks on their faces.

“Sirus is in lo-ve” James sang playfully and laughed.

“Hey! Don’t be stupid!” He gave James a gentle shove and shook his head.

“Oh, you’re definitely in love Sirius,” Remus retaliated, leaning on his mate’s shoulder as he said so. “When was the last time you were so quick to lend anyone anything?” He teased.

“Look- she leant me her herbology text book a couple weeks ago so I’m letting her borrow my book now, is that so weird?” He attempted to explain himself.

Remus rolled his eyes and backed off.

“Alright- if you say so.” He leant back on the wall behind him and retained his knowing smile.

Sirius lay back on the floor and sighed like a toddler having a tantrum.

“I’m not in love!” He nearly shouted, trying to stop himself laughing a little. In the end he gave in and all of them laughed together at Sirius and his little crush. The others would soon forget about it, Sirius however?

“It’s just some silly phase I’m going through.” Was all he could tell himself, whispering under his breath, even to himself he was unconvincing and lying through his teeth.

Soon it was summer- and Sirius was lying on his bed, bored witless and hiding away from his family, dreading their snobbery and being forced to indulge the strange guests they always seemed to have in the house with telling them about his studies. He especially dreaded how often his cousins visited during summers.

Andromeda was nice, one of the few bearing the Black name that was, but her sisters were cruel and especially liked to pick on Sirius.

He was younger and rebellious and his mother rather enjoyed the spectacle of it so never stopped them.

Luckily, today there was no-one in the house except for him and the family’s house elf, Kreacher, who was hidden away in the kitchen. Sirius’ parents and brother had gone out for the day, something he had done, but which now couldn’t quite recall exactly what, had gotten him excluded from the outing. So he lay staring at his wall- covered in Gryffindor banners and posters of motorcycles and fighter jets and muggle pin up girls. On one wall, above his nightstand was a massive collage of photographs, some magical, some not, of all of his friends. There were plenty that were blurry or slightly odd, taken when Remus had brought his father’s camera to school one term and showed them all how it worked, before letting them loose with it.

It was these photos he was looking at when he heard a tap at his window. When he turned he found a large fluffy white owl on his windowsill, with a parcel wrapped in brown paper and tied with string in it’s beak. He wrestled with his window a little, it was an old building and he was sure nothing worked in it without squeaking or creaking. Once he’d finally levered it open he gently took the parcel and patted the owl on the head. It seemed either to not mind this or think nothing of it, and it flapped it’s wings and flew off.

He closed the window then and sat down at his desk. He turned the parcel in his hands and listened to it crinkle. On one side there was the handwriting he knew so well now- and it said his name:

’Sirius Black’

It was slightly messy handwriting, but quite pretty and script-like. He hesitated to tear the paper, though he knew exactly what was inside.

Slowly he unfolded the paper, carefully peeling it back and found exactly what he expected and more.There was his textbook, and tucked inside the first few pages was a folded piece of crisp white paper.

He took this out and unfolded it.

’Hello Sirius!

I hope your summer has been better than mine, I’ve been bored to death here. Never thought I’d ever say I missed school but here we are I guess.

I’m very sorry if your summer is worse than mine, in which case it must be truly awful.

Thanks for letting me borrow the book, I bored myself to death copying out notes last night but finally I’m done and I don’t intend to pick up a quill ever again if I don’t have to.

I suppose I’ll see you again in September-

(Y/n)~“

Sirius rather enjoyed reading it. It wasn’t often he got letters, the other boys weren’t good at writing letters, so didn’t most of the time.

He opened one of his drawers, which were organised very well, though if you knew Sirius you would never expect that, and tucked the letter away carefully, before grabbing a piece of paper and writing back.

It wasn’t a long letter, and it wasn’t particularly eloquent or interesting, but writing filled time and he saw no reason why he shouldn’t.

Sirius’ handwriting was pristine- another symptom of his upbringing, and as he signed off his name in the dark ink, he felt quite proud of his small achievement.

He waited for the ink to dry, then folded the paper and put it in an envelope, writing the return address he’d noted from (Y/n)’s letter, and sending it off with his family’s own owl.

After that Sirius found himself anxiously anticipating a reply from her. It took a couple of days but he nearly jumped out of his skin as soon as he heard the tap on the window one evening.

It continued like that, back and forth, the entire summer. The pair somehow became much closer on paper than they ever had quite managed in person. Sirius hid this from his parents well, so they couldn’t stop him, because he knew they would, but he kept all of her letters tied up in a bundle in drawer, he had no heart to throw them away- despite the risk.

Some part of Sirius didn’t have a single expectation that this would last- he almost wanted it all to end once they got to school because how would he know how to deal with it?

He realised that was ridiculous, why push away a girl who he liked so much for the sake of not having to learn how to figure her out? He instead ignored everything that made him apprehensive, and he figured that he would indeed persue her- if only to spite his parents and their views on how they should like him to marry, rather than because of all these confusing feelings he had. They were all very much by-the-way in his head.

So the first day back, he made sure he sat next to (Y/n) in potions, much to her surprise.

"I thought you would have sat with James and the others this year?” She asked when he took his seat next to her.

He rolled his eyes and smiled.

“It’s nice to see you too.” He laughed. “I can go if you’d like?” He said, pretending to get up again. He put himself forward as confident here, though inside he was a typical teenage nervous wreck about it, which he found stupid considering he’d talked to plenty of girls, some more beautiful than (Y/n), and he’d never been like this.

“No” she had laughed with him and grabbed his arm as he tried to leave, pulling him back down. “Don’t play stupid, I was just surprised is all.” They smiled at each-other for a moment before their teacher began the lesson and their eyes shifted to the blackboard.

It happened that again the herbology professor had seated them together, which by no means did he mind.

(Y/n) had always thought quite a lot of Sirius once she had gotten to know him- she’d heard of his flirty ways, but he’d never been like that with her. She wasn’t sure if this disappointed her or if she didn’t care, but she brushed off these claims that Sirius Black was a massive flirt quite quickly when he wasn’t. She didn’t notice how much he had begun to flirt with her for a while, she put it down to them being better friends than they ever had been, and it wasn’t helped that she bounced off of him well, naturally she seemed to rebute his remarks with her own, not usually ever thinking of them as more than jokes or playfulness. In other words she realised that she had begun flirting back without ever realising it.

But when she did, she thought nothing of it, if it turned out this boy was a massive flirt then it meant nothing, it was just how he was and she needn’t take any real notice of if there were anything behind it. Even if it wasn’t always that easy.

Of course, Sirius had no clue that that was going on. He believed that when she responded to him in that way, that it did mean something. He’d been so blissfully unaware of really how bad his reputation was, he never thought anyone payed that much attention to it, why would they? It was strange, he was very used to being in the background most of the time in his own home- so here, where he stood out so much, he didn’t quite understand that people now did take notice of him.

It all came crashing down half way through the first term, after the first quidditch match of the year. By now (Y/n) had met James and Remus and Peter plenty of times, she’d walked down to Hogsmead with them more than once and they’d all gotten along well. She was smiley, and sweet in a way. She certainly had a sense of humour and she was so obviously always looking for fun- that’s why most people did get along with her.

She had accompanied her friend Mandy to watch the game, Gryffindor against Ravenclaw. James was playing of course and she’d wished him good luck when she spotted the boys behind the Gryffindor team’s changing rooms before they headed up to the stands.

When the game ended it had gone well, it had been exciting and Gryffindor had won; this meant that there was going to be a party in their dorms that night, as usual.

Almost everyone who wanted to be there, from every house, including the opposing team would be there. Anyone who was willing to risk getting caught out past curfew and who wanted fun would be there. So of course (Y/n) would be there too.

The common room was already full of people by the time she got up the stairs and into the common room, she spotted James sitting on the shoulders of his teammate, a boy in the year above him, and she shouted congratulations to him and waved. He already had a bottle of fire whiskey in hand, but waved and shouted 'thank you’ back. He looked down moments later and seemed to be talking to someone else so she moved on and drifted through the crowd, finding a few friends and being handed a drink.

Not long later she felt a someone leaning their arm gently on her shoulder, she turned and found Sirius, his casual cocky self, beside her. Immediately she saw this she broke out into a massive grin.

“Hello there” Sirius had said to her, his own smile slowly getting bigger as he looked at her.

“Hello Sirius" (Y/n) returned. He liked it when she said his name and he could never work out quite why. He figured it was something to do with her accent, it just came out well. "Have you got a drink?” She asked, their eyes each still lingering upon the others’. Sirius shook his head.

She broke the moment as she turned away for just a second, looking down into her glass and downing what was left in it.

“Well neither do I” she laughed and allowed Sirius to slip his arm around her shoulders and lead her away. He hadn’t in fact done this intentionally, it had just happened naturally and instinctually, as if his limbs all had a mind of their own to do as they pleased- so he thought nothing of it until it had happened and he felt a faint wave of panic, thinking he might of done something over the line or that she mightn’t like- but it washed away as she smiled and did nothing to stop him.

The rest of the night was fine, happy and loud and the common room was filled with people and music and drink. Exactly the way things were meant to be. Sirius spent a while with (Y/n), his arm around her, playfully, he claimed, but it seemed so obvious to everyone except the pair of them that it wasn’t. All was well, until she slipped away.

She looked into the crowd of people outside the circle of friends that they were sat in, Sirius and (Y/n) both perched on a table, for a moment, before turning to Sirus.

“I’m just gonna go see a friend for a bit, I’ll see ya’ later” and just like that she had slipped out from his grasp, leaving with that sweet, sugary smile before he could even take in what she had said. In the end he thought nothing of it.

She didn’t come back but he didn’t question it, or think twice about what had made her leave with such haste- though he soon learnt.

He and James had drunkenly staggered out into the hallway a good while later, intending to play some harmless prank or something, unsurprisingly Sirius didn’t remember what it was afterwards. A few students were scattered there, but one in particular stood out to Sirius.

There was (Y/n), being pressed up against a wall by the Ravenclaw seeker, a tall blonde who was in the year above them.

“(Y/n)?” He had blurted out, luckily with more confusion than hurt in his voice.

She looked over the shoulder of the seeker and her eyes widened, so she pushed him off and laughed.

“Sirius?” She replied, out of breath a little.

Why did she always laugh? Why did she always have to laugh about these things? This is what Sirius was asking himself. It stung and he wasn’t sure he understood why, but it did. He was drunk, and so he attempted to play it off, so laughed a little half-heartedly with her.

James wasn’t entirely sure what to do with himself so just stood there, and the opposing seeker stood back, leaning against the wall.

“I uh- I thought you were in there?” Sirius stuttered, almost over compensating with his behaviours now, pointing at the door into the common room. (Y/n) shook her head.

“Well, I was- then I got a bit distracted I guess” She glanced over at the seeker and giggled.

“Yeah- I see” Sirus replied, this time he was a little blunt. This made (Y/n) look back at him, surprised but ultimately deciding she must have mistook what she heard, so, as she was also a little drunk, she took the opportunity to tease him a little- like they usually did to each-other.

“You weren’t terribly disappointed when I left I hope? Not hoping that were you?” She grinned and gestured toward the seeker.

“No!” He smiled and made such a big effort to cover up what he wanted to say. “I- I mean I like to see you, but then again that doesn’t mean you mean that much to me.” It all sort of came out wrong but he felt now it had come out of his mouth he should just keep with it.

“Just because I write you, don’t get me wrong, don’t think you’ve got at me” He said in an almost scoffy way.

Her smile faded. She looked confused. She was confused. It seemed an overreaction from Sirus but then she wasn’t sure that what she had said couldn’t be construed as offensive or something. Either way she was upset.

It took nearly two months for their relationship to recover from that one. He wasn’t entirely sure how to explain what he had said, because he didn’t understand it himself, and he didn’t want to admit why he had said it either- because that he also couldn’t admit to himself.

(Y/n) also didn’t understand, she thought Sirius had just been rude to her, and she was upset mainly because she had had rather high hopes that he might pick her for his next fling. After all, she was just a young girl looking for fun- and he was a boy who seemed to be looking for the same thing.

They never really did talk about it, rather they just ignored it and after two months of (Y/n) being hesitantly cold toward him in class, and Sirius being far to nervous to approach her now otherwise, eventually it all fizzled out, and was forgotten. (Y/n) moved on, she dated and had just as much of a reputation for flirting and being a sleep-around as he did. She liked it, she was known by everyone, she was sweet and pretty and she was willing to be friends with pretty much anyone, so she was always invited to events and to go out with people. Sirius was mischievous and handsome and just as confident, apart from when it came to her.

So they recovered. And still the issue hadn’t come to a head yet. All the ups and down of it were difficult. Still Sirus didn’t understand that he had feelings for the girl, maybe a symptom of his flings- and she had decided he didn’t, so by the end of the year everything to do with it had gone stale.

She hugged him goodbye on the platform before they separated and went their own ways. They’d agreed to write to each-other, like they had the summer before and both were looking forward to it. They had a close bond, a quiet one that wasn’t obvious past the fact that they sat together in class and occasionally spent evenings together in the Three Broomsticks over pints of butterbeer.

They did write to each-other faithfully, and each letter she sent seemed to him to contain a treasure of some-kind. The first she had sent had a poster ripped out from a magazine of a glossy black motorcycle, that she had seen and thought he might like, the fifth had a cassette of some her favourite songs on, and the seventh included a set of pictures of the pair together that she had had developed from a roll of film she had found in her school things. Very proudly he plastered the poster to his wall and listened to the songs, enjoying them plenty, and he tacked the photos to the wall by his bed, with all the rest. These were some of his favourite so they went with the two photos of Peter and James drunk but fully dressed in the lake one night, and a group photo of all four boys and Peeves, who they were all surprised showed up on the film, if in a slightly off green hue that wasn’t entirely true to life. He sent her back some goodies too, highlights included three boxes of chocolate frogs and two cards that he had multiple of, just so she could finish her collection, and a charmed postcard that had a picture of the seaside on it and which blew sea air and salt spray at you when you looked at the picture- among other things.

Still he hid these letters away from his mother-though she almost couldn’t bare being in her son’s room, surrounded by 'muggle filth’ as she called it. Unfortunately his elder cousins were not repulsed enough to avoid him so severely.

He was layed on his bed, basking in the sun like a large cat one afternoon, his eyes closed and his radio playing a T.rex song, when his bedroom door was nearly broken down by Bellatrix as she threw it open. Immediately he jumped halfway out of his skin and sat up, switching off his radio as he did. Already his heart was beating a million miles an hour as behind her Narssica swanned into the room. Both were cruel to him, and enjoyed tormenting the black sheep of their family- so he felt sick the moment he saw them.

“Hello baby cousin” Bellatrix sneered, gliding over to him with a horrible smirk on her face. He made no effort to reply.

“You really should answer when people greet you Sirius.” Narssica stated, coldly and sharply, not looking up from where she stood, inspecting something on a shelf on the other side of the room. She reminded Sirius far too much of his mother, but she was much cleverer than his mother, and so was much, much worse.

Bellatrix was much more of a live wire. She was explosive and imaginative in her methods of cruelty. He was never sure what to expect from her.

“I hope you’ve missed us since we last spoke.” Bellatrix’s words swirled around his head like they were about to strangle him. He stayed absolutely stock still, only his eyes following Bellatrix as she circled around the foot of his bed, picking things up from his desk or dresser, making a scalding comment about it, or simply holding it up, snickering and showing it to Narssica before slamming it back down on the table again.

When she reached his collage of photos he slowly moved around till his legs were crossed and he was facing away from the door, still watching as Bellatrix peered at the photographs, pointing a sharp finger at each one as she scanned them. Suddenly he felt two cold, thin hands on his shoulders, bearing down and keeping him still, nails digging into his flesh more than a little. He felt Narssica stood behind him, her face right by his. Her hand suddenly lunged upward and held his face looking toward the other sister, as if she knew he was about to turn to look at her.

Then Bellatrix began to cackle, plucking a photograph off the wall.

“My my, baby cousin- what have we got here?” She held the photograph excitedly, grasping it with both hands and with a wild look in her eyes.

“She’s rather pretty isn’t she? Right in the middle of your little display.” She had an awful grin on her face as she slowly looked from the photo, to Sirus, and back to the photo. Then in one movement she spun it round and screamed.

“Look at this sister!” She was nearly jumping with excitement. “A pretty little toy! He’s got himself a pretty little toy!” He could feel Narssica smiling and hear her breathing in his ear, as her grip and nails that dug into his face and arm never wavered.

“Far too pretty for a boy like you Dear.” She calmly said to him. Her using such a name for him made him feel even more ill than he already did.

“Mmm-” Bellatrix nodded. “Even a filthy mudblood wouldn’t want you- a horrible little boy, as hideous and awful as you are.” She laughed. “Long hair and boney limbs and that crooked, dirty little smile of yours? What a joke you are having played on you baby cousin.” He could hear one sister quietly chuckle inches away from his face and the other was hysterical in front of him. He didn’t know what to say so he just opened his mouth and tried to make an excuse for it. But his voice wobbled a little

“I keep her picture up on the wall to hide that stain that’s there, it doesn’t mean that much to me-” He was cut off.

“Be quiet. Big boys don’t cry.” Narssica said firmly, briefly taking her hand away from his face to give him a swift smack to the side of his head before replacing it. Bellatrix was howling with laughter at this. She was delighted by the events and danced around the room holding the picture high above her head. He easily could have broken away from his cousin’s grasp, he was a strong young boy and she was a rather thin and delicate lady, built by etiquette and manipulation rather than quidditch and running from teachers in the night. But he was terrified of the consequences of that, so he was powerless. He was ashamed in that moment that he hadn’t defended (Y/n), or himself, or even how he felt about her, as he realised in this guilt what exactly it was he had been feeling all this time.

Before they left, Bellatrix dropped the photograph, now crumpled and damaged on the floor and trod on it, pushing it, twisting and writhing, into the carpet. Then Narssica grabbed Sirius by the hair and pulled his head back, not suddenly but with enough tug that it hurt plenty.

“Remember exactly what you are Darling, a coward who cannot own up to the truth and who will bring nothing but misery to everyone who he encounters. You’re no better than a filthy glob of shit on my shoe.” The level of calm in her voice was alarming, something about the way she issued that insult made it sting more than it might have, she had been so casual and certain.

Then both sisters were gone, leaving Sirius alone and ashamed and frightened, but most of all he doubted himself more now than he ever had.

He immediately stopped writing back to (Y/n). She sent a totally of three more letters which he couldn’t bring himself to open, all presumably to make sure he was okay. He didn’t reply and eventually she stopped sending letters altogether.

He had put the crumpled photo back on the wall once his cousins had left, but he could only bare it for a few more days before he took it down and placed it, with all of her letters over the years, in an old box, which in turn was stashed far back under his wardrobe, where wouldn’t have to see them again.

The rest of the summer he felt sick whenever he though of (Y/n), or even looked at the empty space on his wall. He dreaded going back to school, but equally couldn’t bare being at home with his family. By now his mother knew about 'the Girl’, as she had become accustomed to calling her, and as she had never asked for her name. She took the opportunity to bring it up and ridicule him for his relationship with her at every opportunity, and if he ever dared speak back or attempt to defend himself she would smack him across the knuckles with her cane, or wherever she could see bare skin. For Sirius this was not totally unusual, but because this 'offence’ was so brashly against his family’s values, this was one of the worst goes of it he had had since he was small.

His mother, just like his cousins, tormented him with taunts designed expressly to bring him down, and break him. It was safe to say it worked. He had never been so subdued and compliant as he was that summer. He had never been so numb and tired and devastated, and he had never experienced such a brutal and aggressive attack. He so severely doubted himself now, that he had become a quiet and meek boy, he stayed in his room, and didn’t sleep at night. He barely spoke a word and ate very little.

His parents very nearly didn’t send him back to Hogwarts, but in the end they were just happy not to have 'such a repulsive toad’ in their house anymore, so let him go. He sat by himself on the train and avoided everyone. He kept tugging on his jacket sleeves, anxious that someone might see the cane marks his mother had left and that he was now so ashamed of. To him those bruises and scratches were affirmation that he was everything his mother had told him he was and he hated to look at them himself, let alone for anyone else to.

At school he was quiet, and so obviously not himself. He hated any little amount of attention he got and he avoided his friends. James and Remus and Peter all asked him what was wrong but he just said he didn’t want to talk about it and that he was tired. They didn’t have a clue how to get Sirius to talk, usually they couldn’t make him shut up so this was vastly different.

Even (Y/n), who initially was confused and hurt by his sudden neglect of their letter writing, forgot it all when she saw him again for the first time.

“Sirius?” She asked, genuinely quite unsure it was him, he was much paler and skinnier than she remembered him being, and his demeanour was all wrong. He looked up at her, realised who it was and looked away again. Then she knew that he was aware of what he had done and didn’t like to think about it.

“Sirius? What’s wrong?” He didn’t answer. “Please talk to me." (Y/n) begged him, now very worried. "There’s obviously something wrong here and I want to help you.” He was only half listening, his inner monologue was screaming at him so loudly that he could barely take in what she was saying.

“No.” He stopped her. “I- I’m not in love.” He stuttered. “It was just some silly phase I was going through. So if you’re waiting for me to be someone good for you, you’ll wait a long time for me. I know you know that I don’t mean that much to you- so, don’t make a fuss, just go away. I’m not in love, don’t forget it. Alright?” He couldn’t bring himself to shout at her, but he couldn’t be around her. He didn’t want her anywhere near him. He was quite sure this was all some awful game, that she didn’t care at all. Why would she?

She nodded. She didn’t really know what was going on but she got the message. She pitied him as she backed off and walked away, and she was upset that he had had never understood how much he had meant to her. In the end she left him behind, she didn’t really bother speaking to him again. She got the message and she understood it. It wasn’t worth her time to be around someone who didn’t want her to be there.

Once Sirius had begun living with the Potters later that year, he began to regain his senses and his understanding of who he was. It was slow but he bounced back little by little. He never did fully understand why he had pushed her away so nastily, he regretted every moment of it, but he didn’t deserve to cause the girl anymore grief and let her go. Though if you asked him, many years down the line, she was never the one that got away, but always the one that was far too good for him, the one that he sent away.

#sirius x y/n #sirius orion black #sirius imagine #sirius black #sirius x you #marauders x y/n #marauders x reader #marauders x you #marauders #hp imagine #hp fanfic #harry potter fan fiction

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feelinglikecleopatra · 3 years

Note

I do have a request: Can you do a Kanej shot where Kaz picks Inej bridal-style? Please, please!

I have not read anything like this for the two (the usual hand- holding is kinda too obvious by now) and ik how picking up bridal-style is a bit too much contact for them but let's assume they get better with touching and contact over the years- and 'Kaz picking Inej bridal-style' will be peak fluff if you don't decide otherwise!

Please Write this! :) (it had be totally fine if you don't want to)

hmmmm okay, interesting... i mean, arguably he holds her bridal style in soc after she's stabbed by oomen but i'm assuming you mean something fluffier lol

this is a bit of a challenge (creatively) cause inej being inej doesn't really need anyone carrying her, like, ever and, to boot, a disabled boy who uses a cane is not the best candidate for the job. buuuut i did have one little idea that i thought could be cute so, here you go!

let me know what you think!

inej can't stop looking at them.

its a very rare thing for her to own something pretty just for the sake of it, something meant to be kept in a box and only worn on special occasions.

the soft leather and supple soles mean the pumps are amazingly comfortable despite the two-inch heal. they're dyed the colour of ripe plums, a deep purple, which nina insisted suits inej's colouring perfectly.

and, even better, they’re perfect for tonight.

in the midst of kaz and her busy schedules, including her tendency to run off on the wraith every few months, they’ve made a habit of going to the van eck's for dinner whenever she's shoreside.

for tonight's dinner, inej is wearing her favourite cream blouse tucked into charcoal pants that taper at the ankle and, of course, her new shoes. the whole ensemble makes her feel very dolled up. though in her childhood, walking the high wire, and not to mention her time at the menagerie, the outfits she wore were many times more extravagant.

it's not like her friends expect finery. kaz certainly doesn't. but inej doesn't regret the choice when, in the darkness of his rooms, he lets his eyes slide over her and tugs on her belt loops gently.

"i like the shoes," he says lowly, settling his hands on the flare of her hips.

"is that all?"

his gaze drops to where she left the top buttons of her shirt undone, revealing the slope of her chest. humming, he slips one hand under her collar and cups her neck.

"i think so—can't think of anything else." with a thumb he tips her chin up to him. the disparity in their heights is not so great with the extra couple of inches so he need only bend down a little to brush his lips to hers. "you look beautiful," he says against her mouth before pulling away.

"hush, kaz, you'll make me blush," inej says it lightly but her tone is belied by the way her breath quickens as he smiles.

"that's the goal, my darling inej."

"we're going to be late."

"let them wait. it's only jesper and wylan."

laughing, she pulls out of his grip. "you know how wylan gets. i will not have it said that i caused him distress, come on!"

in the end, they arrive just in time.

dinner is a simple affair but delicious all the same. and besides, inej thinks, the company is worth all the lobster and caviar and bizarre delicacies in the world.

all night, inej watches her friends laugh and flirt and tease, unapologetically joyful in each others company and it makes her heart ache to think how far they've come from their years spent living at the mercy of desperation and pain.

of all the things jesper and wylan serve with dinner, inej likes the champagne best. it fizzes and skitters over her tongue, a delicate dance that makes her head feel light and fuzzy in the best possible way.

when the dessert is brought out, inej nudges her foot against kaz's under the table, tapping the toe of his polished shoe with the toe of hers. other than a subtle quirk of his eyebrow he doesn't acknowledge the contact.

there's a challenge if ever she saw one.

with one leg crossed over the other, she manages to slide her foot up the side of his calf, which garners her a twitch at the corner of his mouth. resting her foot against his good knee gets him to drop his hand under the table and reach for her ankle.

she's tipsy, drunk almost, but the feeling of his warm hand wrapped around her ankle has all her already disarranged thoughts dissembling entirely.

the warmth of his palm seeps into her skin and his thumb tracks back and forth in a slow movement inej knows is unconscious.

it gives her a moment to watch her man, to take in the way his throat works as he swallows a sip of champagne, his long fingers wrapped around his fork, the candlelight playing in his coffee-black eyes.

she finds herself quite entranced by him, endlessly counting the parts of him she loves and misses when she’s away.

some obnoxious, slurring voice in her head is telling her to list them aloud, to the group, now. the voice is sure he wouldn’t mind. inej knows better.

though she cannot be held accountable for her actions in such a state of inebriation, she resists, content to be distracted by the feel of his hand on her ankle.

by the time they’re standing on the threshold of the van eck mansion again, her promising wylan she'll be back before she ships out and kaz enduring jesper teasing him about something she'll have to get details about later, inej is swaying slightly with the background buzz of one too many drinks.

keeping one hand on his cane, kaz offers inej his arm. when she grins up at him and takes his proffered arm, his answering smile means he's very nearly laughing at her.

"don't!" she pouts.

"what?" he's all innocence.

"don't laugh at me!"

of course, kaz laughs anyway.

the way home seems long to inej. an interminable, meandering amble through the city.

beneath an iridescent spray of stars, ketterdam’s colourful facades feel wholly different. their light and music dance in the inky canals, giving life to another world beneath the waves.

arm in arm, kaz matches his pace to inej’s—almost clumsy as it is. and although the air is warm she can’t help but lean into him, the firm line of his body a precious support.

too soon, they’re back in the barrel, facing the slat. but there, in front of their door, is a large puddle, one might even go so far as to call it a minor flood.

kaz, being the sober one of the two, notices it first. when inej goes on blithely, apparently unaware, he catches her by the hand.

“awww, you wanna hold my hand?” inej coos, nose wrinkling in delight.

“no—i mean, yes, of course—but look.” kaz points at the puddle with his cane, not hiding his amusement. blinking slowly, inej looks at the slat and at the puddle and at kaz. “your new shoes,” he adds, helpfully.

“my new shoes!” inej brings a hand to her mouth, gasping. “they can’t get wet. i—i’ll have to take my usual route.”

it takes kaz a second to catch up as inej heads toward the back of the building, with the clear intention of scaling the outside.

“inej, i’m not going to let you climb a building right now.”

“oh please, you can’t stop me.”

he takes her hand again and all inej can do is blink down at the contact. “what if i asked very nicely?”

“hmmm…” leaning into him slightly, her ascent forgotten, inej says, “alright, go on.”

“please,” he whispers, tucking a stray lock behind her ear. “we’ll find some other way in, one that doesn’t give me heart palpitations.”

inej frowns at the front door, stymied in a way she normally never is. “but how? kaz, i can’t ruin my new shoes!”

one moment, she's pouting up at kaz, trying to make some kind of order out of the syrup of her thoughts, and the next, she’s in his arms.

without hesitation, kaz has scooped her up—one arm supporting her back, the other under her knees. what he’s done with his cane, inej can’t tell and she’s too lightheaded to try and figure it out.

“kaz!” a giggle escapes her and inej presses her face into his chest, trying to slow the beating of her heart. “put me down! you shouldn’t carry me!”

“why not? you’re light as a feather.”

then, kaz walks through the puddle (his own nice shoes be damned) and knocks on the door.

inej doesn’t see the look on pim’s face, she’s too busy studying the underside of kaz’s chin, indulging in the feel of his body against her, the feel of his hands on her back and legs.

“she’s fine,” kaz answers an unasked question as pim beckons them inside.

“actually, i’m quite drunk,” inej adds, primly.

the smile kaz gifts her is slow and unerringly fond. “yes, you are.”

a/n: well, there we are. can’t believe i managed to sneak in a little footsie (saw this @anonniemousefics' post recently and just had to).

#kaz brekker #inej ghafa #kaz x inej #bridal style #soc #fluff #my writing #requests #just2bubbly #drunk!inej #has that ever been done #who knows #now it has

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littlemisslipbalm · 4 years

Text

Little Border Town Pt. II

Summary: Harry starts to find himself more and more drawn to the bookshop owner. She’s maybe not as annoying as he first thought. And maybe Harry isn’t the worst like she thought either. A little notebook, drinks, shoes, and a boat begin to show each other that.

AKA: Harry and Y/N are neighbors that fight all the time, the whole town wants to know when they’ll just fuck.

ello loves, part 2 is finally here pls let me know what you think!! barely proofread sorry... also i think theres gonna be quite a few parts to this because i keep not getting all i want to say said in each part. and im trying to keep the chunks relatively short. — also I made one direction lowkey exist bahaha

Word Count: 9.2k | Warnings: flirty fighting/banter, slowburn

Part 1

The next day Harry found himself walking into the bookshop next door without really thinking about it. He hadn’t seen Y/N again for his early morning run and he had his list for her of the Paul Simon albums he already had. They hadn’t had their windows or shades open last night either so it was the first night he didn’t give her a salute and she didn’t flip him off. The jostle in routine seemed a little weird to him so as he walked through the shop's door and the bell sounded, he thought the smile on his face was because he was well rested and unbothered by anything.

Y/N had slept in this morning. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but the beginning of Fall always put her in a cozy sleepy mood. She wanted to go to a pumpkin patch and watch a fire burn out in a fireplace. She wanted to listen to her halloween playlist and plan out an intricate costume with her friends. All of this was a wistful dream though. She had quickly learned that the little border town didn’t celebrate Halloween how they did in the States or any major cities. It was okay, at the end of the day, even if she was a little bummed about it. This was her new life and she would have to adapt to the new customs.

After she walked downstairs and unlocked the door, she went back over to her front counter. Yesterday, right when Harry had come in, she had found a booklet of Marie’s. It was leafed over to the point that all the pages were crinkled and dirtied from hand debris. Each page was filled with her loopy handwriting, all of it in French. She must have only liked blue pens because even if the type changed over different pages, the color was always blue. Each page was headed with a name, a customer’s name Y/N was starting to realize as she leafed through the pages. She sat back on the wooden stool she had gotten for behind the counter and propped the book in her hand. After the name of the customer there were extensive details on them. Not their purchases specifically, but their preferences, their personality, and just tidbits about any quirks they had or interesting things Marie had decided were of note.

She found many names that were now familiar to her after her few months of living in the little border town. There really weren't that many people to get to know and the tourists were starting to die down now that the school year was getting back in. After a few minutes of pouring over Monsieur Friedfrickson’s page, who lives across the street from her and runs the flower and gardening supplies shop, she flips to an even more familiar name’s page.

“Harry Styles.” The page had the name written out in strong tall letters. Marie had used a blue inky pen for his page, not a ballpoint. “Likes Music. Poetry. Love stories. Romance with a happy ending, but also likes the practical love too.” The interests are laid out plain and she purses her lips at the idea that Harry is interested in romance novels. She wondered what type of poetry he liked since Marie didn’t seem to think that had to be elaborated on. “He’s a special one,” it reads and Y/N scoffs to herself, really Marie? She reads on, “His heart is in the right place, but he’s got a mouth on him. Quick-witted and charming, but kind-hearted and sincere.” She pauses, and flicks the page back and forth, checking that it still reads Harry’s name when she gets back to it. Was she really the only one who found Harry vapid and annoying? Sure she had softened a little towards him since she had arrived, but they were by no means friends. “While seemingly perfect in every way, Harry is actually-” it reads and she mutters to herself, “Ok, now we’re getting somewhere.” “While seemingly perfect in every way, Harry is actually scared of his own shadow.” “This can’t be real!” She once again scoffs at the book and looks up to the ceiling like Marie is going to talk back to her from beyond. “His exterior persona is very strong, both physically and in his personality, but it seems like he’s just waiting for that right person that he can really be vulnerable with and let them into what he’s really thinking. He’s looking for his Angie.” Now she’s just confused. Who the fuck is Angie? She almost doesn’t finish reading the page because honestly it’s just making her mad, but there’s only a few more lines. “Lots of tattoos, why so many tattoos? Thinks he’s funnier than he is. Flamboyant Harry is best.” And beside that last sentence is a star. She tries to hold in her laughter. At least it wasn’t a complete page of praise for Harry.

Thinking back to her knowledge of Harry, she realizes that Marie must have known him for about three years. Maybe more if he had come to visit before moving there officially. She agreed with Marie that Harry had a lot of tattoos and that he thinks he’s funnier than he truly is, but she was yet to see flamboyant Harry. She knew he painted his nails and wore rings, as well as interesting clothes, but she wouldn’t say he was particularly flamboyant for any of that. That comment definitely piqued her interest. When would Marie have seen Harry where he was being flamboyant?

Her eyes scan over the page once more and realize that this book is only for the most current year. Marie re-did the customers' outlines every year. So this was this past year before Marie died. She wondered where the other books might be and if Harry’s outline had changed over time and also if her name was in the one from when she had visited. That would be interesting to read. It’s strange to read a dead person’s private musings. To her knowledge, no one else alive knew the contents of these pages and these pages seemed especially personal since they spoke of people’s lives and who they were at their core. Maybe that’s why she didn’t hear the chime of the door this morning when the first customer arrived.

Her eyes don’t shoot up from the page until two ringed hands enter her eye line on the counter. The tanned skin, with the gold and silver dazzling rings on each finger and the cross tattoo all register in her mind as her eyes go wide. She snaps the book shut when her eyes meet Harry’s almost ivy green eyes - they’re darker in the foggy fall light streaming through the window today. She hadn’t even turned on the lights yet in the store, the natural light being enough for her this morning. The book is clutched in her hands as Harry’s smile widens to a grin of amusement.

“What have you got there?”

There’s no cover on the book so he can’t make anything out about it. He assumes it’s some novel she’s embarrassed of and has chosen to slip the cover off of to keep anonymity of it. This assumption is why his tone is so teasing and why she grimaces at him in response. Her cheeks have also tinted themselves, she’s flustered that the man she had just been conversing about with the book was now in the store.

“None of your business.”

“I guess not.” He replies easily when she responds curtly and places the book out of sight somewhere under the countertop.

“Why are you here again?” She’s avoiding his eye contact now, feeling like she’s been caught doing something she shouldn’t have been even though it was perfectly within her right to read something that now belonged to her.

Harry’s smile falters with her followed curt reply. Annoyance settling in, Harry straightens up and removes his hands from the counter. The familiar feeling doesn’t exactly feel nice, but familiarity is better than discomfort. “You wanted a list of my Paul Simon records? So you could order me one I didn’t already have?”

She looks at him curiously as the conversation comes back to her from yesterday morning and she nods. That conversation was real. “Oh yeah, I said that.” She replies, still not looking at him. “Okay,” she says when he doesn’t move or do anything. Her eyes widen, silently asking him to get on with it.

His hands shove into his pockets, searching around for a list he apparently had made. They come out empty. He pats over his jacket pockets and feels nothing but his phone and wallet, no list. “Fuck,” he mutters beneath his breath. She scratches at her eyebrow and sits back on her stool, seeming like she might be waiting awhile. After a few more minutes and no produced list, she sighs. “Do you just want to go next door and grab it since you obviously forgot it?”

“I didn’t forget it…” His voice is low and he shoots a glare at her, the annoyance that had come back had now doubled.

“You did, but it’s okay if you can’t admit that-”

“It must have fallen out of my pocket!” He insists.

She rolls her eyes and stands up. Walking to the front door, she looks on the ground and then a little ways outside. “I don’t see it, just go back and get it. You probably left it in your boudoir, it’s fine.” Her tone is a little less condescending now and more understanding. She forgets stuff all the time and she really wasn’t trying to be rude when he first came in. He had just startled her is all.

He turns around to face her. Her body is now completely out in the open area of the front of the store. His head tilts and one of his loose curls flops over his forehead while he takes in her appearance. “Why do you do that?”

She wets her lips and steps closer to him, more on her way back to the counter than anything. “Do what?” She’s oblivious to what he’s taken note of.

“When you have a conversation in English you’ll swap in some words that are French. They’re easy words to figure out and you don’t do it a lot, but you’ve done it enough times for me to notice.”

“Oh...I don’t know. I prefer French to English. It’s so much sexier.” She walks closer to him and utters her next sentence as she brushes past his shoulder. His gaze follows her every movement. “Would you prefer a girl to whisper in your ear, “let’s go back to my bedroom” or “let’s go back to my boudoir.”?” Her French accent hangs in the air with the word and compared to the hard American accent she had employed for ‘bedroom’, ‘boudoir’ sounds far more dirty this time than before.

A shiver rolls down Harry’s spine, but he doesn’t let it show. She shrugs her shoulders, “I think the answer is clear.” He clears his throat in response and a smile grows on her face. “Don’t you agree, monsieur?” She leans her head into her hand now that she’s behind the counter and looks up at him sweetly. He knows she’s teasing him now, her smile more of a sultry smirk.

“Piccola diavola,” his Italian rolls off his tongue and she squints at his words. She knows “devil” but the first word troubles her - it just means little. Her Italian really wasn’t strong and it hadn’t improved that much since she’d been in the little border town. But she also wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of asking what he had said. Harry chuckles at her confusion and relaxes now that he feels the playing field has leveled once again.

“So your list… Do you want to go grab it? Or if you can just list it off the top of your head? As enthralling as your conversation skills are, I actually don’t have all day.” She trails off again, her questions lilting from her mouth after regaining some composure.

“I wasn’t the one teasing about taking someone up to their bedroom,” he huffs. Her face colors with crimson. While she had been teasing him, she didn’t want to be called out for it.

“Wasn’t teasing…”

“So it was a serious offer?” He inquires with a lop-sided grin, changing the meaning behind her words in one fellow swoop.

“That’s not what I was saying! Shut up and give me your list.” Now her blush was all over her face and neck, and she was totally and completely flustered by Harry. She glanced down at her hands that were fiddling with a pen and paper, ready to write his words down.

“I can either shut up or tell you my list. But it’s sadly one or the other, love.”

She groans and takes her free hand to run it over her face. “Just tell me what you already have, Harry. Please.”

“Okay, okay,” he chuckles and spreads out his hands in front of them both. He crosses back to the counter and leans on it once more. They are in close proximity once again, only the counter between them now and she can feel his hot breath fan over her softly. Smells of wintergreen gum, her favorite.

She glances up at him and their eyes hook together for a moment before she tears hers away to look back at the paper. He rattles off a good amount of Paul Simon’s albums and she nods approvingly as she scribbles the names down. She would have to look through his discography to find the ones Harry didn’t have and she probably could’ve made Harry do that and then give her that list, but she didn’t. It was too late now to do that as well, so she’d just have to live with her decision.

When he finishes, she glances at him once again. His eyes are very large. A detail that isn’t really important about him is seared in her mind. They’re big and they’re staring right at her. His pupils are almost as big as his irises, it was interesting. Her eyes shift under his gaze after a beat and she straightens up again. While they went over his list, she had indulged in the close proximity, the mingling of warm breath and brushed hands as she scribbled and he pondered. She nods a farewell, “I’ll let you know when I order next, but I won’t say what album you’ll get. It will be a surprise.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything else from you,” his smile snaps back to his face and he scratches absentmindedly at his side. He hesitates before exiting the store. “I have a question.”

“Don’t need my permission.”

He emits a half-laugh, half-scoff from his parted lips. “Wasn’t asking for it...How come you never go out?”

She stares at him curiously, her head tilting to the right. “How would you know I don’t get out?” She challenges him.

“There’s only one pub in this little town and I’m your next door neighbor. I know.” He’s insistent on being right.

She scoffs, but only in an attempt to cover up her embarrassment. Her skin had finally cooled from all the excitement that had happened earlier and she wasn’t in the mood to grow red once again. Today was the first day she had ever felt flustered by Harry. It was annoying, it made her feel out of control. She liked to go out well enough, maybe more than the average person. But she’d only been in the little border town for a few months and going out hadn’t been on the top of her list of things to do. Sure, it would be nice to go get a drink out in the town, but she didn’t really have anyone to go with. Meeting people wasn’t hard in the town, but there weren't many people who were her age and she hadn’t particularly clicked with anyone where she would want to go out on the town with them. It was embarrassing to face the fact that she wasn’t flourishing as much as she had hoped. She was happy, but being confronted with the truth that she hadn’t gone out yet dampened her belief in her success in the little border town.

“I - It’s not at the top of my list of priorities,” she stutters, her chin raising a little in indignance.

One of his shoulders shrugs and Harry makes a little face as if he was indifferent to her answer, even though she knew much better than that. Harry always wanted to get a reaction out of her, maybe that was all he gained from their interactions - entertainment. She didn’t know, but she didn’t feel like giving him the satisfaction and left it at that. His eyes meet hers again, his stare far more intense now. “Ciao, diavola.” He simpers, repeating the little nickname. It was far more sultry of a nickname than ‘Shrimp’ but she wasn’t going to complain. She rolls her eyes in response, the only correct one at that.

That night, she found herself feeling pulled to journey down to the pub. It was on the Italian side and like she had acknowledged to Harry, she hadn’t been. She wouldn’t admit to anyone, especially not Harry, that his question had been what had pushed her towards the establishment when night fell. Yet, here she was. Her pants were dark red silk that matched the black tank top with red embellishments that she wore over her chest - the only part of her it really covered. Her boots were a matching black with gold metal bits, they were knock-off horsebit Gucci shoes, the closest she could get to the real thing with her modest budget. She was having to be more frugal lately, after buying her car here in September, she had really seen how little money she truly had.

The heels of her boots clicked against the cobblestones as she stalked up to the front of the bar. There was happy chatter seeping out the open door, the warm but dimmed light also flooding out along with the sounds of people within. Taking a deep breath and fiddling with the waistband of her pants for a second, she made her way into the bar. Stepping off the deep end and making the plunge. She knew there was nothing to be afraid of, but after months of not going there, she felt a little sense of apprehension now.

The warmth was the most surprising bit of the bar that she felt when she stepped past the threshold. Some Italian song was buzzing below the words of the patrons and she smiled at the automatic welcome she felt upon entering.

At the tables, there was a mix of younger and older patrons. At the bar, there wasn’t much of anyone. The young bartender leans across the bar to talk to another man, who had dark brown wavy hair and a dark linen shirt on. He’s seated at the bar and his back is to her so she can’t make out anymore than that. She doesn’t notice the myriad of tattoos gracing the patron’s arm that rests casually on the bar as he laughs at something the bartender had said, just for him.

She smiles, thinking it’s a cute little flirtation between the two and hates that she has to go over to break it up. Her movement gets the bartender’s attention easily and has the patron glancing her way as well. The smile she had once had falters off of her face and her eyes go wide at the realization of who she has settled herself beside. She had left a seat open between her and the man, but now she wished she had chosen a spot across the bar and simply flagged down the bartender. Better yet, she wished she had stayed home. As her smile falls away, Harry’s only grows wider. He’s grinning down at her as he moves his whole body to face her.

“Ciao!” The bartender starters, not noticing her discomfort at seeing Harry. He begins to ask what she would like in Italian, but her eyes widen even further. He’s speaking far too fast for her and she blushed in embarrassment. In her fluster, she forgets to even try French and she just stares dumbfoundedly at the handsome man behind the bar, who’s now looking at her with great curiosity. Harry has watched the entire thing and chuckles behind his glass. She has no attention span left to allow her to even try and guess what he’s drinking.

He interjects for her, actually saving her any more embarrassment, surprisingly. “She doesn’t speak Italian. She’s from the French side and new in town, so she hasn’t been able to refine her Italian.” The bartender gives a smile and nod of understanding in her way and she wishes she knew what Harry had just said. Whatever it is makes the bartender switch to French for her and her jaw goes from being dropped back into a normal position.

“What can I get for you, mademoiselle?” He transitions smoothly and she smiles, his French accent sounding practically perfect. She’s recomposed herself, but Harry is still watching her intently, like a reality television show that he can’t wait for the trainwreck finale to occur on.

After she orders, the bartender gives her a wink and then walks off to get what he needs to begin preparing her drink. Harry slides over, eliminating the courteous one seat between them. Her eyes watch the movement and she refrains from the letting out the sigh festering in her chest. She really had hoped he would not be here tonight, at least that’s what she believed. She truly felt embarrassed that the night after Harry had accused her of never going out, he had seen her out. But it also was nice not to be sitting in the bar alone. It seemed that Harry had been sitting alone at the bar before she had come in, but she also wasn’t Harry and didn’t know how much enjoyment she would have gotten out of being alone.

“I see my words had some effect on you.” He says out of the corner of his mouth after running his tongue over the bottom of his lip. Her scoff once again dies in her throat because she knows he’s right and he knows it too. There is no being proud right now. He essentially caught her red handed.

“Thought I’d come out and see what all the fuss was about. I see you’re alone tonight, but I assume that’s how most nights go.”

“You should know by now that is simply not true.”

“Just because you leave with someone doesn’t mean you come with someone.”

“I guess…” He trails off.

She picks up when he doesn’t seem to have any more of a response. “How do you even meet people here? Isn’t it all locals?”

“Not always. Not all of the people here are locals tonight,” He scans the crowd. “She’s visiting...So is she...that whole group actually. Look French. So we’ve got a group from Nice tonight…” He looks a bit more. “Eh, that looks like it tonight, but still. It’s plenty.” He finishes with a smirk and she grimaces, understanding the meaning behind his words.

The bartender returns with her White Russian, which Harry had cocked his head at, but had kept his opinion to himself for once. Expecting Roman to return to their conversation, Harry turns his attention back to him, but he is only greeted with the side of his head because Roman is still staring at Y/N. He coos something to her in French, that Harry can’t pick up and his nostrils flare when she emits a giggle following their exchange. The two people he was last talking to were now ignoring him to talk to each other. How rude.

After another moment without their attention, he huffs loudly. Roman seems too entranced in Y/N to notice, but her eyes slide over to him. “Yes?” She inquires, albeit disdainfully.

Harry isn’t sure what to say to her now that he’s gained her attention. He was on his second drink and her stare has made his mind go blank. All he had wanted was for her to stop flirting with Roman so that she’d pay attention to him. But he hadn’t thought of his next step yet. He takes a sip of his beer to grant him a little more time and she rolls her eyes at his action. His mind rattles through possible things to say, but every single one is coming up as not good enough.

“I used to be in a band.”

Her head tilts and she swivels more to Harry. His comment is unexpected and rather intriguing. She had expected something annoying or rude. Truly she had just expected him to say “Nothing” once he had swallowed his drink so he could distract her from enjoying her night.

“You were in a band?” She asks incredulously, her voice pitching slightly higher than normal. While Harry was many things, including handsome, she just didn’t think he had the right persona to be in a band. He dressed like a grandfather most days and he tended to a little shoe shop, he didn’t come off as a guy who would enjoy traveling around performing. The constant praise would be on brand though, she conceded.

Harry nods and bites back his smile, knowing he had struck the perfect chord. “I was...it only took off in the UK but we were pretty popular.” He boasts.

“So what do you play?”

Harry’s eyes widen, expecting more of a question about the name of the band or something. “Well, it was, like, a boy band…” He says.

She was taking a sip of her drink and she contained her little laugh behind her glass. Another hum as she swallows the liquid that burns her throat a bit. “Oh. Interesting. So no instruments.”

“Well I can play a bit of guitar and piano!” He adds quickly, seeing her eyes shift away from him, like she thinks the conversation is over. “I was thinking of trying a solo thing, but then plans changed...”

“And now you’re here?”

He echoes her, affirming the question. “Now I’m here and I’m not leaving.”

“You don’t miss it then?”

“Didn’t say that. I miss it at times, but this is where my life took me and I’m happy to be here. Maybe happier than I ever was in the band.” His eyes stare at the liquid in his glass and he swirls it lightly, determined to study the way it moves as he ponders something quite personal to him. He never really talked about his past with anyone here. Saying he was in a band and retrospecting that time are two very different things to share with someone. She’s just watching him now, not trying to make a quip or bug him. His demeanor shows that’s not something he’s very interested in hearing right now.

She experimentally puts a finger on his knee when it seems that he’ll never raise his gaze from his glass. His eyes move down to the tiny pressure he feels and sees her painted nail poking in to him. His tongue darts across his lower lip as he raises his head to meet her eyes. He notices the sparkle in them, she finds amusement in the childish gesture and so does he.

“I do miss the stage though,” he admits, smiling more now. “Performing. It was like nothing else.” Instead of a sad state of mind, his look is far more wistful now and she actually feels the smile growing on her face.

“You’ll have to sing for me sometime, then.” She says resolutely after taking the last bit of her drink and then pushing the glass across the bar. Roman had wandered off, much to Harry’s pleasure, but now they both needed another round so she was looking for him.

Harry slides over a chair so that they’re sat side by side. He had originally done it to reach across her for a napkin, but then hadn’t retreated to his original seat after he was successful. They talk as they drink, but most of it seems to be flirtatious teasing even if neither of them recognize that fully. Harry just wanted her attention earlier and now he found that he wanted to keep talking to her all night. It was a Friday and usually he would be looking for someone to take home. The group of women at a table that he had observed were visitors would be a perfect place to start his quest, but that wasn’t on his mind. He liked watching the different shades of blush Y/N’s face kept turning as she drank more and how silly she was getting with each passing drink.

She was enjoying her time out, she had only gotten wine drunk in the confines of her little home since she’d been in the little border town. And that endeavour was all by herself. It was much more fun when you had someone to talk to, so joking around with Harry was a nice surprise. She no longer felt embarrassed about showing up after he had teased her for never going out earlier today. Now she felt empowered, like she could come to the bar whenever she pleased. He was nicer than she had realized. His hand was quick to encircle her back respectfully when she laughed a little too hard at a joke and began to tip off her stool. His smile was genuine and his eyes didn’t flit over her body more than once. His jokes were funnier than she had first thought or maybe that was just the alcohol clouding her mind, that one she wasn’t sure about. But, truthfully, Harry was exceeding expectations tonight and being a stand up human being for once, in her eyes.

A couple at the end of the bar, locals, watched on as the shoemaker and the bookkeeper threw back their heads in boisterous laughter and placed their hands on each other chastely. The older women smiled to themselves as Y/N smacked Harry’s bicep after an especially cheeky joke he told her. They were going to have a field day with this interaction once they told their friends tomorrow morning.

After drink three, she definitely felt drunk. Not completely out of it and can’t walk drunk, but I haven’t drank anything stronger than wine in months so three cocktails are kind of hitting me drunk. And because of that buzz that’s enclosed her mind and body, it makes perfect sense to her that Harry’s hand is resting casually on her knee as they talk. It also makes perfect sense to her to cross her legs, causing two things to happen. Harry’s hand shifts up further on her thigh and her boot is now dangling right next to Harry’s shin. The fabric of his cream linen trousers look especially soft and so the next logical move in her mind is to rub her foot against the fabric. She hooks around her foot easily and the patent leather of her shoe slips softly against the pant leg that flows over Harry’s calf.

He hums lowly at the feeling, but makes no other notion to acknowledge what she is doing. After the hum he gets back to the story he’s telling her about his boat. She had been extremely interested in the boat initially, but not she was transfixed on the feeling of the fabric slipping past her boot. When he shifts his leg, absentmindedly or not, she almost squeaks because this movement has Harry’s foot brushing around her ankle. The footsy was occurring without any acknowledgement of it besides small sounds the two had made in their chests. No knowing looks, just the presence of each other’s bodies against one another.

He had switched to a Manhattan after his second beer for some reason that she didn’t ask, but he was enjoying it nonetheless. When she slipped her foot against his calf, it had sent a spark of electricity from the point of contact up to his alcohol muddled head. It felt nice so he went with it.

Around midnight the two of them were practically in each other’s laps, nursing their fourth round. Brains a million miles away while their glassy eyes stared at each other. Harry’s arm nestled around her waist while hers played with the stir stick in his glass. Their heads inches away, closer than they’d ever been before.

Somehow they decided they should walk home about then. Maybe Harry had checked his phone and decided he was done. Maybe she had glanced at the clock above the bar and realized she needed to go to bed. Either way, they slammed down the last bits of their drinks and stumbled into the street. With only each other to hold them up, they had some trouble gaining their balance. They could walk just fine if they wanted to be serious, but Harry kept trying to step literally on her toes and she kept throwing all her weight into his side. Both of their actions would cause them to stumble one way or another along the empty streets. Their blurred minds thankfully didn’t get them lost, but the travel time back to their places was far greater than the travel time to the bar initially.

Finally arriving at the border of Italy and France, their shops and homes, she stared up at Harry under the glow of the streetlamp across the street. His hair looked more dark brown than his usual caramel chestnut in the light. His linen outfit billowed across his pectorals that were exposed. A tan golden color that he seemed to maintain from his frequent runs and trips on his boat. His jaw had a bit more stubble on it now, his morning shave no longer sleek on his skin. His mustache was still the most prominent bit of facial hair he had and she wondered what he might look like without it. She also thought if she’d ever kissed a man with a mustache, her mind was pretty sure she hadn’t.

As she stared, she moved from his side and took a step closer to her door. His hand reached out and grabbed her wrist, stopping her and bringing her attention to his eyes. He dropped her hand and stepped closer to her. They had been laughing about some weird encounter she had in Nice the other week. But now their laughter had faded out, the conversation all but forgotten.

“Hi.” She says meekly.

“Hi,” Harry laughs.

“I had fun tonight,” she muses and takes a step forward. She began swinging her arms back and forth, rocking on her feet. She felt antsy now that it was so quiet. The silence made her realize it was really just her and Harry together right now. Which wasn’t unusual, they had been alone together plenty of times. Maybe it was the time of night, but it felt far more intimate to her this time which made her squirm a little. Why was she nervous with Harry right now?

Harry nods and laughs again at her actions. “Yeah, you’re not so bad.”

Neither of them realized the proximity of their bodies until her hand swung a little higher and hit Harry’s hip bone. “Oh! Sorry!” She moves to take a step back, but Harry grabs her hand once again and tugs her even closer. Bringing them chest to chest under the lamp light. Her eyes flicker between where their bodies touch and Harry’s face. He’s looking down at her sweetly, gently. She feels safe with the way he’s looking at her. The warmth radiating from him was a nice contrast to the dark cold of night. The open expanse of skin that lived between the two sides of his mostly unbuttoned shirt seemed to have the most heat coming off of it. He had a jade cross that hung between the two muscles and she almost reached out to play with it. If it hadn’t been so dark and she hadn’t been so inebriated she would have realized the color matched his eyes almost exactly.

He’s not quite sure what he’s doing, but for some reason it feels like he might kiss her. The mood that was set by their surroundings made it sound right. Romantic even. Her lips look precious too, plump and puckered, flushed from alcohol and the brisk night air. They look a little glossy too from the last time she had wet them. He wanted to feel them for himself. His head ducks to move his lips to touch hers.

Upon registering his movement, she moves her hand from his grasp and places it on his chest, causing him to take a small step back.

“I think...I think this should be goodnight, Harry.” She breathes out. She’s trying to clear her mind enough to have conviction in her decision.

After a little intake of air, less than a gasp, Harry agrees, running a hand through his hair, “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

Her hand slips from his warm chest, immediately curling in on itself to maintain the warmth his body had just provided. She watches her tendons in her hand ripple before looking back at Harry with heavy eyes. He doesn’t seem to want to make eye contact with her, but she’s determined to leave on a good note.

“Thank you, Harry.” He looks up from beneath his lashes at his name, like a shy toddler. “You gave me the push to face a fear of mine.” With her final words she crosses the little distance between them once again and places a chaste kiss to his cheek. Immediately, his cheek flushes and she can feel the heat beneath her lips, as well as the light prickle of his stubble. Harry swallows, causing his Adam's apple to bob quickly, at the contact. His senses get overloaded with the sweet kiss and the smell of her perfume. It all swims through his consciousness.

She smiles as she pulls away and then turns to let herself into her place without another word. Once unlocked, she gives one last glance to Harry who’s also busying himself with opening his door. She doesn’t see that his free hand is caressing over his cheek where her lips had just been.

The next day, she woke up and groaned feeling the stiffness in her body. Especially her head. Oh god, her head. It was like she was back in college, but worse because she wasn’t as young. At least she didn’t have to roll out of bed for an 8 am lecture. For that, she was thankful. Still, the pounding needed to stop or subside at least. Grumbling, she threw her legs off the side of her bed, the fuzzy socks she had slipped on in her drunken stupor settled on the hardwood. She dragged her body to her window and raised the shade. Her window was fogged from the difference in temperature outside and in her room. Kneeling down, she began to pull open the window, in need of the cool fresh air on her clammy skin. Three drinks, or was it four? She couldn’t remember, either way, it was too many.

Her eyes glanced around the view of the window. It wasn’t much since it was so close to the building right next door. Peaking up, she could see the already clouded sky. To the left she could see the street and to the right was more buildings. The scene most easily accessible was the window right across from her. The shade was mostly closed, a little bit of the floor could be seen where Harry hadn’t lowered it completely. It was just the same hardwood as what she sat on staring back at her. She sat there, breathing in the crisp morning air. After a night of drinking, she usually woke up rather early, today was no different.

It dawned on her, far too slowly, that a pair of feet had entered the plain hardwood scene she had been staring at outside her window. A tiny stage now filled with two matching characters. The pair of feet were tanned and large. Little tattoos seemed to be sprinkled both on the toes and the ankles of the feet. She couldn’t read them even if she tried. But upon realizing what these feet might be doing, she had been discouraged from staring any longer. Still, her brain was foggy and her body was not nearly quick enough to hide her from view as the owner of the feet did something to open his shade as well. Then, once again, like deja vu, she was staring at her naked neighbor. Thankfully, this time, he had briefs adorning his hips to keep covering the part of him that would keep her up for weeks trying to forget again. The briefs were, just that. Brief. Low on the hips and barely touching his thighs, it seemed they really only existed to keep that one appendage covered. Still, she had to tear her eyes away from the lower half of his body and let the embarrassment wash over her when she met his eyes.

The knowing smirk of his has him nibbling at the inside of his cheek. She had been checking him out. It was a nice confidence boost after last night. The awkwardness of her stopping him from kissing her had him spiraling in his mind when he went to bed. He didn’t know why he had even tried to kiss her in the first place, probably just because he was drunk. Yeah, he was drunk and feeling needy on a friday night. That’s what it was and she had been there.

He’d have to thank her today for putting a stop to that colossal mistake. They were barely just friends, he hated to think what would happen if he’d done something so reckless as to kiss her out of the blue. Still, he couldn’t shake the thought in the back of his mind that he had gotten the vibe from somewhere. Why else would his drunken mind tell him to kiss her under the glow of the lamp light. He thought back to the bar and what they had talked about. He wouldn’t categorize it as overly flirty. He thought back to their physical interactions at the bar, okay, maybe his hand on her thigh and her playing with his drink was a little flirtatious. But that could be boiled down to him being close to hear her in the bar and her idle fingers wanting something to do while she was drunk. The footsy, though. He wasn’t sure if he could explain that one away. Instead, he would choose to ignore it. If he didn’t think about it, did it actually happen? Was it something he had to worry about? Not in his mind.

Returning his focus to the girl in the window across from him, his smirk was now fully fleshed out on his face. She was still sitting on her knees as Harry looked down at her and if they were in the same room this might have seemed like a rather compromising position. Her cheeks were still red, noticing the difference in height, she clambered to her feet.

“G’morning,” Harry’s voice is groggy and deep. Scratchy almost from the alcohol he had drank last night. It rings through her ears lowly and seems to have her blushing even more. It’s a different feeling than how his voice used to make her feel.

“Hey,” She clears her throat before responding, not wanting her morning voice to crack in front of Harry. Usually she would talk to herself a bit or sing along to her music before going downstairs, not wanting her first customers to hear her as if she just woke up. For some reason, she makes a little wave along with her greeting, feeling especially awkward at this moment. Harry chuckles and repeats her motion. His large hands mimicking the same daunting motion makes her laugh and releases some of the nervous energy she had been holding in her body.

“Fancy seeing you here,” he openly flirts, placing one hand on his naked torso and the other against the frame of the window, leaning towards her. His movement flexes just about every muscle in his body and she keeps her eyes trained on his face, determined not to be caught gawking once more.

A roll of her eyes and she’s back to staring straight into his green ones that he’s still blinking awake. “It’s almost like we’re neighbors.”

He scrunches his nose at her deadpan. “You’re no fun,” he mutters.

She sighs, “I’m fucking hungover after last night…” and runs a hand through her tousled hair.

Her foot rests itself over her other, causing her hip to just out slightly. The movement of her body that accentuated her curves and her words have Harry blushing now. The red flowers at the center of his chest and begins to spread up his neck and cheeks. He’s once again presented with the almost kiss last night.

“Big night out for you,” he laughs, “I’ll admit I don’t usually drink that much, bit of a lightweight myself.”

She only hums in response, her fingers beginning to twiddle with the hem of her t-shirt. It reminds her of what she is precisely dressed in. The big t-shirt and tiny pajama shorts that Harry can’t even see are the only things on her body besides the socks on her feet. She glances down at her legs and takes in the expanse of fleshy skin that is showing just below the shirt. Harry’s eyes follow hers and admires the skin there, wondering what it would feel like underneath his big hands.

“I should probably start getting ready for the day,” She says finally, shaking herself from the random thoughts flitting around her mind about bare thighs and the man across from her. “Are you open today?”

Harry emits a noise from the back of his throat at her question. He draws his arm back from the window and stands up straight. His head tilts as he thinks about her question, his mind still muddled this morning.

“Er..no, actually. I was planning on going out on the boat today, switching my closed day to today instead of tomorrow. Why?”

“I’m in need of shoe repair,” she smiles, her eyes catching the glimmer of the sun starting to peak out. Harry swears it’s her eyes genuinely sparkling on their own accord. “But if you’re out today, it can wait.” She begins to walk away from the window to go to another room in her apartment.

“No!” Harry steps forward, but is restricted by the screen, which keeps him from falling out of his window. She swivels around, looking at him curiously. “I can - you can just come over. I’ll fix it up for you before I head out.”

“Really?” She’s truly surprised that Harry would do such a nice thing for her. She knew they were getting along better, but for him to open shop just for her repair seemed overly nice.

“I mean,” and Harry’s once again blushing under her gaze and he’s hoping she can’t see it. “What are neighbors for?”

“I guess,” she’s still unsure. He seems like he’s nervous, his body tenses and one of his hands twisted in his curls. Harry’s so weird. “Thanks.”

She jogs the short distance from her front door to Harry’s once she’s ready. The pair of deep teal almost navy loafers she needed new soles in - she was pretty sure - in hand. A red pinstripe blouse half buttoned falling over her figure perfectly, hugging the right spots and flowing over the others. She’s in white jeans today that are flared slightly but also cropped. As it gets closer to Halloween she keeps having to remind herself not to dress festive and it’s a struggle everyday.

When she reaches the door, it doesn’t open. The cream door doesn’t budge as she tempts the handle with her free hand. She looks between the handle and the inside of the shop. Her eyes search for Harry’s figure. She had been inside his shop only a handful of times, never for a repair before. Maybe less than a handful, once to check it out and once again when she thought she needed a new pair of shoes and then decided against it. Oh, and that one time she went over to yell at him about something. Maybe the planters, maybe the shade, she couldn’t remember anymore.

Now that she thought about it, she had been in the bookshop once more. Two and a half years ago when she had visited the little border town for the first time. It was a little fuzzy for a memory, but she was sure she had at least peaked into the shoe shop after her lengthy visit with Marie the second day there. It looked just as it did now, maybe it used to be a little more vibrant, but she couldn’t be sure. She remembered an older man in the shop greeting her in Italian and her offering her sad ‘Ciao’. Back then she was even worse at Italian. He had looked at her with kind eyes and a sweet smile. It was a similar lopsided grin that she had now grown accustomed to on another man’s face. After beckoning her over to him the old man had turned away from her and shouted into the back of the store in quick Italian. It blew over her head completely. There must have been someone in the back of the shop who he had talked to. She was sure of it, because after she had perused the cute boots and shoes he kept, she saw a swish of hair coming around the counter. It was just as she was turning around to exit the shop, after she had bid farewell to the man she now connected as Joe. Whoever it was had long hair and was tall, slinking out into the main shop floor. The mysterious stranger was whoever Joe had shouted to in the back.

Y/N wasn’t the quickest when it came to timelines and how people could change over time. She didn’t connect the year she had visited with the year of someone else's arrival or the same chestnut waves cascading around someone’s face, just now much shorter. It made perfect sense who would be in the back of the store, but for some reason the idea of time and hair length were standing in this girl’s way. Oh well, maybe Harry would spell it out to her someday.

Harry finally rounds the counter that separated the back room to the front. The shoe shop was set up a little different from the bookstore. Her counter was right when you came in while Harry’s was about halfway through the shop. He shakes his head and laughs at her expression. The sound brings her out of her memory as well as a grimace on her face.

“Sorry, I was a million years away.”

“I’m pretty sure it’s ‘a million miles away’, love.” Harry continues chuckling while correcting the girl in front of him.

She holds up her pair of shoes, ignoring his teasing. “Fix my shoes, shoe man.”

His smile drops and he walks back from the door. His feet taking back steps as he beckons her into the interior of the shop. When they reach the corner, he takes the shoes from her hands and places them between their bodies. The teal loafers stare up at them. Harry inspects them, a serious expression falling over his features. His brows scrunch together slightly, the wrinkles in his forehead growing more prominent as he examines the shoes. Large hands reach out and begin to finger over the patent leather on the top and the leather soles. After a few minutes of silent deliberation, he places down one of the shoes and then holds the other up as if to showcase it.

“These,” he juts out the shoe in his hand, “need new soles. What did you do to ‘em?”

“I wear them a lot.” She insists while Harry looks on quizzically.

“I’ve never seen you wear these.”

Her brow quirks at his comment. “I wore them a lot before I got here,” she corrects. “They’ve been feeling wonky every time I try to wear them, must be because they need new soles.”

Harry nods, now satisfied with her answer. He hums, regarding the teal shoe in his hand once again. “Alright.”

She looks at him confused once again. “Alright what? Can you fix them?” What does he mean by ‘Alright’? “I’ve honestly missed wearing them these past few months.”

Harry bites his tongue, a quip ready to be voiced. He’d gotten so used to fighting with her, he was confused how it had slipped away all so easily. His fear of them not talking if they stopped fighting didn’t seem to come to fruition so he could rest easy on that front. But now he was going to have to retrain his brain not to be rude after every comment Y/N made.

“Yeah, of course.” He sighs, placing the shoe next to its mate and then turning his face to her. She had been chewing on her bottom lip, actually worried for her shoes. They really were her favorites. She’d had them forever and it would be heartbreaking if they had to be thrown out. If she couldn’t wear them though she was almost sure she’d just let them collect dust in her closet rather than dispose of them if it really came down to it.

“But it’s like a good amount of my day to replace soles…”

Her face falls, but she tries to hide it. She knew Harry was doing a favor by taking a look right now. If he could fix them it didn’t matter when he did it. What he says next though truly throws her off. No normal enemy-ship turned somewhat friendship overnight would engage in what Harry was about to propose. If any such relationship other than her and Harry actually existed.

“Do you want to come out on my boat today?” His brow arches, his lips in a soft smile, he’s being genuine.

“Why would I do that?” Her brows raise along with her voice, taken off guard by his suggestion.

“More fun waiting for me to fix your shoes on a boat than in your shop.” He says simply before taking the shoes and placing them in a little cubby hole behind the counter for safe keeping. “Trust me, you’ll love it.” Her expression doesn’t change. “Just say yes,” He pleads now.

She sighs, “Fine.” All of the reasons not to go out on Harry’s boat are at the forefront of her mind, but she still finds herself saying yes easily. His pleading really wasn’t necessary to get her to agree. The bookstore could live with being closed today, it wasn’t going to hurt anyone.

#harry styles fanfic #harry styles fan fic #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #harry styles fluff #harry styles fan fiction #harry styles angst #harry styles smut #eventually both of those will bop up #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #feedback pls ❤️#me putting this uo at 12:30 am oops

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huebris808 · 3 years

Text

Dr. Hofnarr’s Horrible, No-Good, Very Weird 15 Years Of Being Dead.

a tribute to fanon interpretations/character study(?) that was going to be a bonus chapter in a post-canon/au comedy fic im working on! might come back to expand on this when i do start posting it (or if mpn gives him more background story lore that i’ll have to work with aoAHGHOAUGH)

happy madness day! :o)

“Where should I begin… Perhaps at the very beginning? OH! Christoff and I first met years before our Nexus days! Back in our freshman years of college, to be precise! You know, I was actually a theater major before switching to- ... A-Aah, too far back. Much too far... Let’s start from the point where the notes I supplied to you ended then, shall we? After our dissension...”

.. “Good luck, old friend...” ..

The first years on the run from Nexus was stressful to say the least. Hofnarr and Christoff had split up to better their chances of survival. He knew the process would be grueling, having talked to Christoff almost every night about it to calm his nerves. While he played calm for the cameras, Hofnarr truly wished he could have held him close one last time. No communications. No physical contact. Day after day, month after month, nothing. He would be separated from his husband for a very long time…

It wasn’t all bad after a while. He had a comfortable new apartment, went under a new alias, and his questionable new job paid him enough to buy food. His apartment even had cable! He could watch marathons of Slaughter Time whenever he got home! In hindsight, he wondered if that had an effect on his mental state at the time...

Hofnarr had taken the last of his S3LF regulator with him, having shipped them out to an undisclosed location prior to dissension. Dissonance exposure did a number on him and his research team, leaving them to track their “normality” through daily blood tests and injections. While they met their fates early on, Hofnarr had gotten lucky. That is, until the doses began to run out.

Stressful as it was, he knew what he had to do. Hofnarr rushed back to what remained of the labs, knowing it had been abandoned by now. It was ironic, he and Christoff’s work, the work that was turned against them, was the one thing keeping him alive. For days, he worked to make more doses from the materials he brought with him. But there was only so much he could do with limited supplies… Hofnarr made many attempts to prolong the inevitable, lowering his dosage amount, injecting it weekly rather than daily, but he eventually ran dry.

Refusing to turn to darker alternatives, he felt the only thing he could do at this point is record his final findings through video logs.

“It was… interesting revisiting the footage, to put it nicely. Christoff had actually kept the video files on a drive after he originally found all my things in the lab! I barely remembered what happened back then, so I rewatched them out of curiosity.”

On the first night, Hofnarr recorded a message for Christoff. One filled with sorrow, but also with gratitude. For the time that they spent together. How special he made him feel. All the memories they made together...

On the next, he recorded a log detailing his findings during Project Nexus. The effects of dissonance, the Other Place, what it did to him and his colleagues, everything and anything he could.

The next, he reported on the progression of his symptoms. Fever, brain fog, insomnia, joint pain. He felt like his organs were melting, his skin bursting at the seams.

The next night he saw something and remembered. Scars. The scars on his head. That week he was in the staff hospital. He thought it was a dream but the scars were there. Phobos. Director Phobos brought him somewhere that week. He knew he felt off when he woke up in the office that night. He knew something was off when Christoff asked him where he was. He thought he passed out from over-working. That bastard Phobos. Nausea was replaced with rage as he began to scream, his throat becoming raw. What did he put in him? What the hell did he put inside him!?

On the last recorded log, he was face-down on the ground. Groaning as his body occasionally convulsed. Until the video feed eventually cut off.

His body would lay there dormant, dead, for fifteen years.

But to Hofnarr, he felt like he was dreaming.

.. “LET’S GIVE IT UP FOR OUR NEXT CONTESTANT!” ..

“Huh?” The doctor sat up and looked around, the area around him pitch black. Wasn’t he sleeping just a moment ago? He got up and took a step forward in the seemingly endless void. “H-Hello? Who’s out there?”

“AWW, DON’T BE SHY NOW! ESTEEMED AUDIENCE, A BIG ROUND OF APPLAUSE FOR OUR GUEST; THE UNFORTUNATE DOCTOR HOFNARR!”

A light shined down on him from above. A crowd seemingly began to cheer all around him. He was in the center of what looked like a talk show set. Hofnarr awkwardly scratched the corner of his face. “‘Unfortunate’? W-What do you mean? W-Who are you?”

“FIGHT FIRST, ASK QUESTIONS LATER!” The voice above him called out again. “AFTER ALL, IT’S…!” Hofnarr drowned out the noise while trying to think. It sounded familiar. Like it came from…

Hofnarr’s thoughts were cut short. He looked down at his torso. Terror set in as he recognized an entire stop sign had been lodged through his chest.

“DON’T GET COLD FEET NOW! THE SHOW’S ONLY JUST BEGUN!”

The words echoed in Hofnarr’s mind as he frantically tried to pull it out, his vision growing muddled, his hands slipping with blood until…

He blinked.

No stage. No sound. No pain.

Nothing around except for a single white door in front of him.

He stood up again, cautiously reaching for the doorknob.

When he entered he seemed to be in a vintage styled home. It was a kitchen with checkerboard flooring, a table with two chairs, and cheerful music playing through a small radio. It smelled of pastry and medical equipment. Suddenly, there was a knock coming from the door. A familiar voice called from behind it.

“I’m home, dear.” “J-Jeb?!”

Hofnarr rushed towards the front door. Christoff wasn’t trapped here too, was he? “Jeb! W-where are we!? What is this place? What happened to-”

As he opened the door, the clapping returned.

His husband was there, briefcase in hand, his face replaced with a black hole dripping with an unknown inky substance.

He slowly began to back away as “Jeb” moved closer.

The applause, the laughter, was deafening.

Before he could question or run away, Hofnarr was hit by something. His vision blurred, but refocused to be face-to-face with something. It seemed to be a shadow of himself. He tried to run again, but was pinned down by his doppelganger. The clone raised a clawed hand above him and then...

Like waking from a nightmare, Hofnarr quickly sat up once again. He gasped for air, dripping with cold sweat.

Was this really happening? Was it finally over? Was he free?

And then the spotlight focused on him again.

“It… got very surreal. Despite fight after fight, death after painful death... I would suddenly be somewhere else! There was a gameshow, our old apartment, a cat cafe, a... strip club of sorts, a tea room filled with these small armless doodles I used to draw on my research notes trying to offer me snacks… One time there was a sort of singing contest, but I won’t bore you with the details of that one. But when I wasn’t in those places, I felt like I was fighting for my life. It felt like an eternity! And the strangest part of it all? It… it became addicting.”

At first, he felt as if Hofnarr used all of his energy, physical and emotional, to fight back. It reminded him too much of his escape from Nexus. But as time went on, he focused less on escaping and more on surviving. The more he fought, the more he began to lose himself. He was anticipating what sudden whiplash of combat would be thrown at him next. He chuckled at the thought of what excitement would be heading his way. He wanted more. The fights became too slow. Too predictable. Too boring. He began toying with whatever was thrown at him. Turning his shadowy hunters into the hunted. Why let his audience watch the same old fights all the time?

Suddenly, the fighting stopped.

Why?

He was having fun, wasn’t he? He grew impatient.

“WHAT’S THE HOLD UP!” He yelled into the void, seething with anger. “AREN’T WE SUPPOSED TO BE FIGHTING? ISN’T THAT WHAT I’M HERE FOR?!”

He stomped his foot down, lodging something out of the ground.

The stop sign.

He looked over it curiously. How familiar…

Grabbing hold of it, quick flashes of memories appeared to him.

Nexus, the Science Tower, Phobos, the Other Place…

A man with long hair standing next to...

Hofnarr…

Who was that? Was that him?

No…

Only Tricky remained.

Footsteps echoed throughout the halls of the abandoned lab. Heels quickly clicking, cautiously stopping every so often. A lone Nexus Core agent entered through one of the doors.

Perfect timing.

“HAY! YOU THERE!!” A voice stuttered and glitched out, reverberating through the emptiness of the lab. The quickly soldier whipped their head around. “YEAH! YOU, STUPID. PLAY WITH ME!!”

“Who’s there?” The agent pointed their magnum towards the noise. “Show yourself!”

Gladly. The cackling figure emerged from the shadows, posing with a peace-sign, causing the agent to recoil. He grinned, slowly moving towards the cowering goon on the ground. They wouldn’t stand a chance.

“Who are you!?”

They couldn’t kill him.

“FIGHT FIRST. ASK QUESTIONS LATER! AFTER ALL…”

CAN’T KILL CLOWN.

“IT’S MURDER TIME!”

“My body had been there, regenerating and repeating the enmeshment process for years. And by the time I woke up, I was a completely different person. I became a creature of unfiltered impulse… A personification of chaos itself.”

The room grew silent before Hofnarr spoke up again.

“I-Is it horrible to say it was… kind of cool?” He said with a nervous chuckle, twiddling his fingers.

2BDamned was quiet for a moment. They recalled the many times they had to stitch their comrades back together due to Clown Moments. They placed their head in their palms and let out a sigh.

“... You have the right to your own opinion.”

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BONUS: songs i was listening to on loop while working on this instead of doing my damned writing assignment. Enjoy

lady gaga ft. dorian electra - replay

vestik - tricky's vengeance ft. monocronic

#madness combat #Madness Project Nexus #Dr. Hofnarr #Tricky the Clown #MY WORKS #MY FIC #happy madness day these old dudes are gay. [Vine Boom] gay as hell. [Vine B

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