#Like I'm not even saying those up there win over these down here. I love all my ships

[nochepsicodelica]

Toji who got really drunk after a misunderstanding you left him to ponder upon one morning when you left for work. You missed a part of your routinely goodbye to him and at first it didn't bother him. He understood that you were running late, but once he started chugging the cold drinks and he sat with the sentiment, he realized it did strike him.

He hated the entire process of getting drunk, hated that drinking was unbearable unless it was chased with sweet kisses from you, but there he was, downing bottle after bottle. He was starting to feel liquid full but even in this intoxicated state he didn't want to put down the bottles. At some point he starting feeling uncomfortable being by himself and didn't want to feel that way anymore, so he called and texted you. Multiple times. You finally picked up after the eighth call.

-Hi, baby! Sorry, I missed your calls. I just left work and i'm heading home.-

-Baby? Who are you calling baby?- He scoffs, a roll of his eyes following.

-You... Toji. It's you. Who else would I be calling baby?-

-Honestly, I...- He laughs, the sound not coming off as one of joy with the next words he speaks. -I didn't think you even loved me enough to give me stupid pet names. I feel very unloved by you and... mhm, just want you to know that.-

Now, that's just entirely untrue and it hurts to hear. You prove your love for him every day. What is this sudden false claim against you?

-Toji, love, what are you saying? I'm coming home, already. Maybe we should talk in person. This is hard to discuss over the phone.-

-Uh-huh, you do that.- He sighs, heavily, his eyes lidding with sluggishness. -Can't win a verbal argument, s-so you're gonna come over here and try to seduce me with your pretty face. I'm just gonna say no when you try to touch me. Just no.-

-I'll see you in a bit, Toji.- you say, before abruptly hanging up.

He sounded off. You knew something was up the second you saw his eight missed calls and a stack of messages just saying 'hey'.

Your keys jingled as you pulled them out of your bag to unlock the front door. The house was steady, no sign of Toji watching TV in the living room or of the shower running. You walked further in, calling his name. It was kind of eery walking through your silent house. You also knew of Toji's tendency of scaring you, so you were on guard for that as you paced around the house. You had one more room to check and it was the bedroom. You dragged your feet over to the room, knocking when you noticed the door was closed. There was no answer after two more knocks so you just opened the door.

The sound startled Toji who was lying against the headboard of the bed, almost falling asleep. The second he saw you his demeanor changed. He perked up like a dog when their owner comes home, before melting back to the stoic state he had been sitting in.

"Hey," you say, almost tentatively, as you walk towards your shared bed, sitting down on the edge. You're met with an acknowledging hum of a response. "What's wrong, baby?"

"There you go calling me baby again. Baby is for people who love each other, so stop it."

You look over the bed, spotting the evidence that led to the bite in his attitude towards you— those bottles that spill the remaining drops of their content and Toji's backwash onto the bed, making the sheets reek of alcohol.

"Well, I love you, so no, i'm not gonna stop calling you baby."

He crosses his arms over his chest, huffing like a child. "That so? It didn't seem that way this morning. I've never felt so forgotten about by you."

"I told you I was gonna be late for work, but you insisted on keeping me trapped beneath you. Bring that part to light, handsome." You can see the corners of his lips twitching. He's holding back the most wicked smirk at the short burst of memories from the morning. "Plus, I still gave you your goodbye kiss, so what are you on about?"

"You didn't say 'I love you'. That's part of goodbye with you, so you can't blame me for feeling this way." His eyes express something of hurt. Maybe it's enhanced by the drinks he had, but you can't leave him that way.

"You're loved, baby. Very much so. Me not saying it this one time doesn't diminish the actual feeling." He's been reduced to a cub over this, so as his lover, you step in to mend the feelings that were grazed.

"Can you..." he rasps, patting his thigh, signaling for you to sit. You drag yourself towards him, and plop yourself onto his lap. You can smell the alcohol on his breath as he rambles on about how you can't forget to say 'I love you' to him ever again, even if it's a blurted, rushed one that he doesn't get a chance to respond to as you rush out the door.

The look he reserves for you is entirely soft, his hands are hot against your clothed back as they feel the warm body he's missed for hours. "I still..." he pauses to sigh, tiredness imbued into the sound. "Still want you to call me baby," he starts again. "I was just bummed. Don't stop calling me baby. Don't ever do that." He's letting his hands roam all over you. Your back, your waist, your hips—everything.

"Are you gonna let me touch you or are you gonna say 'no'?" You grin, remembering his words, verbatim, just incase he tries to tell you he never said them.

"Why aren't you touching me? Why would I not want you to touch me?" He looks insulted by the question and you have half a mind to remind him of what he said to you on the phone, but the heat in his eyes dies out as quickly as it appeared. "Really need a hug, mama. Please, hug," he says, the last part muffled by your chest as he keeps his face buried into it.

You held him tight and murmured 'I love you' countless times, while he hummed in response and groaned quietly as you ran your fingers through his hair.

[babyleostuff]

𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬

𝜗𝜚 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄: fluff, established relationship, down bad wonwoo (he’s a certified simp) 𝜗𝜚 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: idol!wonwoo x fem!reader 𝜗𝜚 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 1.6k

⦗💌 ⦘ though it didn’t bother wonwoo that his girl wasn’t a gamer like him, he was over the moon when one day she proudly declared she started gaming. one thing he forgot to ask - what kind of games she was playing.

𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐚'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: guys if i play dress to impress does it mean im finally a gamer?

wonwoo was having a stroke. 

months ago, when you first started going out, he of course had to mention his love for gaming and computers, no matter how lame it made him - he figured if it bothered you then you simply weren’t fit for him. but, thankfully, you didn’t find it unappealing whatsoever, you even asked him questions about games and whatnot, sounding genuinely interested. 

and he wouldn’t lie - it’d be cool if you were a gamer as well, but… 

“no, it’s not for me,” you said when he asked if you played. “i don’t really get the hype, and to be honest i just suck really bad.” 

…but wonwoo understood that you didn’t have to share his every passion, besides - you had your hobbies, he had his, and that was perfectly fine. he was more than happy to indulge in activities that you enjoyed and getting to know you even better through them. 

during the course of your relationship you still didn’t show any interest in his games. well, maybe except for when you wanted cuddles, then you suddenly took a great interest in what was happening on his computer, but wonwoo didn’t mind. it was cute how you tried to keep up with the game though you had no idea what it was about, especially when you were sleepy.  

sometimes, though, you felt bad that you didn’t share his passion, that you didn’t know about all of the new updates, and gaming terms, or what the different keys on the keyboard were responsible for, but wonwoo was always quick to shut down those silly thoughts of yours. “i don’t mind, honey,” he always said and kissed your cheek. “i really don’t”. 

so it was safe to say that he had never expected to hear, "i'm a gamer now, baby. i play games," with a proud smile on your lips. 

wonwoo’s day had been long and hard, his muscles were aching from the hours spent on dancing and moving around the stage, and his head was begging for a moment of silence from all the yelling and yapping of his members. 

but that, that just woke him up like no amount of coffees or red bulls could. 

“huh?” he managed to say in utter confusion. 

he didn’t like how you were smiling. there was something sinister about it. 

“there’s this game everyone is playing now. i saw some videos on tik tok,” you had to stifle a giggle seeing your boyfriend’s expression upon the mention of the app he considered cursed, “and it looked fun. so… i’ve been playing it ever since you left for work.” 

well, maybe you did find it on tik tok, but a game was still a game, so wonwoo figured he should count that as a win. 

“let me show you,” you declared and took his hand with an excited grin, before he could say anything else, let alone ask you what kind of game you were talking about. 

you quickly pulled him into his bedroom, totally dismissing mingyu’s “hello”, and made him sit on his gaming chair. 

“i know you don’t like it when people touch your computer-,”.

“you can use it, honey, i don’t mind,” he cut you off and wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him. as ecstatic as wonwoo was about your breakthrough in gaming, he could wait to go to bed and finally get his well deserved cuddles from you. 

“okay okay,” you said and unintendedly ran your fingers through his hair. “so here it is,” you pointed at the screen behind him. 

wonwoo had no idea what game could have finally caught your attention. even the adorable characters from animal crossing weren’t cute enough for you to spend more than five minutes on the game, but what he saw on his computer...

"what, uh," he gulped. "what is that?"

“dress to impress!” 

well, it certainly did not impress wonwoo. 

“it’s like a dressing up game,” you added, when your boyfriend didn’t say anything. “here.” 

you rolled him a bit away from the desk so you could take your designated place on his lap, and disconnected the headphones from the computer, which made everything so much worse. the music that was playing in the background had to be one of the worst sounds he had ever heard. 

“look,” you pointed at the timer at the top of the screen. “the game is starting.” 

he could feel how you were buzzing with excitement, clapping your hands in tiny, waiting for the time to run out. 

“okay, see? here’s the theme,” wonwoo nodded sceptically, but nonetheless tightened his grip on your waist. 

album cover. 

then the screen changed to what looked like a large walk-in closet the size of his and mingyu's apartment. a bunch of other characters were running around, and the god awful music was still playing, and you started to run around as well, and, “oh my god, what was going on?”. 

“who should i dress up as?” you bit your nail, clearly very focused. wonwoo took a peek at your furrowed brows, and small pout and for a second he drowned out the annoying sound coming from his computer, just to focus on your adorable expression.  

“i can do you!” you said, and turned around to quickly place a kiss on his cheek. “from the “face the sun” concept photos. technically it’s not an album cover, but… no one here is ever on theme anyway”.  

wonwoo could only watch as you slowly changed your outfit into something that was supposed to resemble one of his concept photos, only in a more cutified version, because as you said, "you're a babygirl". with the minutes ticking by, he couldn’t help but smile at you being so focused on putting the whole outfit together. 

"okay, it's done," you said, leaning back so you were resting against wonwoo's chest. "now it's show time."

one by one, the characters walked the carpet, presenting their… whatever their outfits were. 

“ugh, this fit sucks ass,” you groaned, and nuzzled your head into his shoulder. “wait til one of them hits the twenty eight pose,” you said, and by the tone of your voice wonwoo did not want to see that. 

“why are you giving everyone one star?” he asked, confused. “that one wasn’t that bad,” he pointed at the character that dressed up as ariana’s dangerous woman. 

“you never give anyone more than one star,” you stated as a matter of fact. “oh, look,” you squealed. “it’s me.” 

indeed it was you, and for what it was worth - your outfit looked the best in wonwoo’s opinion. but then again you were best in everything to him, so his opinion didn’t count. and then the screen turned black again. 

the winners are… 

“now we’ll see who placed on the podium,” you explained, and grabbed his hand that was still resting on your waist. 

wonwoo nodded and put his chin on your shoulder. “i’m sure you’re going to be first, honey.” 

“huh,” you huffed. “i wouldn’t be so sure about that.” 

and yeah, you were right. in the first place there was a character that wasn’t dressed up at all, in the second someone with the vip sign dressed as if they were going to the circus, and in the third there was a very creepy character of a man.

you clicked your tongue annoyed. “told you.” 

well, that was an experience wonwoo had never thought he’d have the, uh, pleasure to go through. 

“so,” you got up, and just when wonwoo was about to whine about the lack of your warmth, you straddled his lap. “what do you think?” you cupped his cheeks and smiled at him brightly. 

he wasn’t sure he was thinking at all, at this point. 

the annoying music? unbearable. the clearly not on theme outfits? hideous. the weird poses that freaked him out? he was sure he’d get nightmares from them. 

wonwoo must’ve been thinking too long about his answer so as not to hurt your feelings, because the smile slowly started to disappear from your face. "you think it's weird, right?" you asked and looked down.

"what? no, it's not that, it's-,".

"sweetie, i understand," you laughed quietly. "it's a game for kids, and a little cheesy at that but-,".

"no no," wonwoo quickly said and grabbed your face in his hands so he could lift your head. "i just didn't expect this. you always said you didn't like to game and i didn't know what to expect."

"yeah, but still-,".

"oh could you be quiet for a second?" he smiled when he saw the corners of your lips lift up. "i didn't mean to make you feel bad and i'm sorry if it did.” 

yeah, the game might not have been his style, and he would never have played it himself, but you liked it. and that was all he cared about. he had never seen you smile like that when he was gaming - your eyes were practically heart shaped when you were dressing up your character, and if this wasn't the most adorable thing ever he didn't know what it was. 

if it made you happy, then it made him happy too.

"you have no idea how glad you found a game you like," he ran his thumbs over your cheeks. "and you know what? if i played myself i'd definitely give your outfit five stars."

you giggled, and wrapped your hand around one of his wrists. "thank you, wonwoo."

"of course," he muttered and pecked your forhead. "now tell me, is there a way we could play it at the same time?"

"wonwoo, you don't have to-,"

"but i want to," he said.

for a moment you just looked at him with a raised brow, as if you were trying to figure out if he was really telling the truth. and he really was. wonwoo would survive any horrible outfit and that annoying music just to see you so excited and happy again.

"are you sure?"

he quickly nodded.

"okay, then let me get my computer."

taglist (if you want to be added, check my masterlist): @jeonghansshitester @weird-bookworm @sea-moon-star @hanniehaee @wonwooz1 @byprettymar @edgaralienpoe @staranghae @itza-meee @eightlightstar @immabecreepin @whatsgyud @hyneyedfiz @honestlydopetree @vicehectic @dkswife @uniq-tastic @marisblogg @aaniag @daegutowns @carlesscat-thinklogic23 @embrace-themagic @ohmyhuenings @nidda13 @hrts4hanniehae @k-drama-adict @isabellah29 @f4iryjjosh @bangantokchy @mrswonwooo @bangtancultsposts @lllucere @athanasiasakura @onlyyjeonghan @haecien @caramyisabitchforsvtandbts @hannahhbahng @valgracia @ohmygodwhyareallusernamestaken @mirxzii @hhusbuds @wonranghaeee @rosiesauriostuff @gyuguys @tomodachiii @veryfabday @lilmochiandsuga @asasilentreader @mrsnervous @bewoyewo @sharonxdevi @wondipity @gyuguys @raginghellfire @treehouse-mouse @waldau @wonootnoot @hellodefthings @dokyeomkyeom @sourkimchi @bbysnw @hoichi02 @aaa-sia @haneulparadx @minvrsev @zozojella @wonootnoot @kimingyuslover @wntrei @honglynights @jihoonsbbygirl @uhdrienne @bloodcanbehot  @iamawkwardandshy  @icyminghao @heeseungthel0ml @goyangiiwonu @bath1lda @ruurooozz @ny0sang @luuxian @onerubii @iamawkwardandshy @hurrican3-insert-nam3 @mekuiikore @luvseungcheol @thenotoriousegg @yuuyeonie @soffiyuhh

[tinycoffeeroom]

café de paris | max verstappen

face claim: none ᡣ𐭩

request: here !

a/n: all french / dutch is google translated blame them if it's wrong! race order is completely random here !

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

📍café de paris, monaco

liked by bffstagram, friend1 and 294 others

y/nstagram me 🤝 café de paris

bffstagram bro those croissants look Fire ↳ y/nstagram my main source of sustenance in these hard monaco streets!

friend1 i have yet to see evidence of you shaking ass on a yacht miss y/n!! ↳ bffstagram so real... we're meant to be living vicariously through you!!! ↳ y/nstagram student finance doesn't stretch to yacht ass shaking, i can barely afford my daily caffeine fix 😭

friend2 oui oui hon baguette how is france? ↳ y/nstagram never let a monagesque hear you say that,,, bro i can't fight ↳ friend2 🫡 ... how is monaco?* ↳ y/nstagram 🫡 it's good!! def happy i chose here over france, even if my wallet doesn't agree 😭 ↳ friend2 we feeling fluent yet? ↳ y/nstagram oh god no, the other day this poor old lady tried explaining how to find the art museum to me and i just stared at her like 😶

friend3 spotted any f1 hotties yet? i hear they all camp out in monaco 👀 ↳ y/nstagram considering i have never watched a Single f1 race i couldn't tell you HAHAH i'm sure they're around here somewhere though ↳ friend3 dude i told you to brush up on f1 😭 how am i supposed to come visit you and have a meet cute with mr lando norris if you don't do your RESEARCH ↳ y/nstagram damn i see how it is,,, using me to get to your vroom vroom men,,,

3 weeks later

📍café de paris, monaco

👤 alexandrasaintmleux liked by bffstagram, alexandrasaintmleux and 270 others

y/nstagram finally found someone else to join my café de paris obsession 🥐

bffstagram next bff sweetie run while you can... ↳ y/nstagram stop scaring the pretty bitches off damn 😔 ↳ alexandrasaintmleux bffstagram she won't let me leave 😭 ↳ y/nstagram i deserve better friends ↳ bffstagram you couldn't live without us xx ♥️ y/nstagram

alexandrasaintmleux la prochaine fois, nous irons au casino ! (next time, we go to the casino!) ↳ y/nstagram finance étudiante a dit non (student finance said no) ↳ alexandrasaintmleux 😔 s'il tu plait... pour moi? 🥺 (please... for me?) ↳ y/nstagram pray for my wallet guys...

friend3 wdym you just casually befriended The Alexandra Saint Mleux??? ↳ y/nstagram i thought her skirt was pretty and had no idea she was like famous 😭 then we just kept running into each other !! ↳ friend3 i need to fly out to monaco damn you can't even see her in the pic but ik she looked So pretty... ↳ alexandrasaintmleux i like your friends y/n :p ↳ y/nstagram just wait til you see them drunk,,,

📍 jimmy'z, monaco

👤 alexandrasaintmleux, landonorris liked by alexandrasaintmleux, landonorris and 2,962 others

y/nstagram started the night in a night club and ended on a yacht,,, just monaco things (apparently) 🛥️

friend3 y/n if you don't answer my texts RIGHT NOW !!!! ↳ y/nstagram 😉 any reason ml? ↳ friend3 i'm gonna swim to monaco and bite chunks out of your ankles what the FUCK ??? when were you gonna tell me you were just casually hanging with [REDACTED] ↳ landonorris i'm guessing i'm redacted? 😎 ↳ friend3 i need to go lie down ↳ y/nstagram landonorris dude 😭 ↳ landonorris was it something i said? 😉

alexandrasaintmleux meilleure amie 💗 (best friend) ↳ y/nstagram merci de m'avoir invitée ! je t'aime ! (thank you for inviting me! love you!)

maxverstappen1 was lovely meeting you last night schat x ↳ y/nstagram you too max! don't forget to send me those pics of the kids! x ↳ bffstagram kids? ↳ y/nstagram his cats! jimmy and sassy! 🐱❤️🐱 ↳ bffstagram your knack for finding cat people never fails to impress me ♥️ y/nstagram

danielricciardo dude my liver actually hurts... ↳ y/nstagram hey you're the one who suggested a drinking contest ↳ danielricciardo yeah because i normally WIN you freak ↳ y/nstagram i'm a broke uni student, my drink of choice is normally vodka so cheap it's legally paint stripper

georgerussell63 carmen's phone died but she said to remind you about brunch today ↳ y/nstagram on it!! alex is gonna come round and bring me 😊

👤 maxverstappen1 liked by maxverstappen1, bffstagram and 2,938 others

y/nstagram met some VIC's (very important cats) today! 🐱 also f's in chat for my café de paris 😔

bffstagram f ↳ danielricciardo f ↳ georgerussell63 f ↳ landonorris f ↳ carmenmmundt f ↳ alexandrasaintmleux f ↳ maxverstappen1 f

friend3 babies!! the second pic oh i could cry ↳ y/nstagram she slept there for like 3 hours 😭 managed to actually sit through a whole gp though so a wins a win! ↳ friend3 y/n watching f1?? who is she?? ↳ y/nstagram their dad forced me 💔 ↳ maxverstappen1 um who cheered so loud when i won that she woke poor sassy up?? ↳ y/nstagram 🤐

charles_leclerc i didn't know café de paris do takeout? ↳ maxverstappen1 they do if you're me :) ↳ y/nstagram the only reason i'm considering keeping him around 😉 ↳ alexandrasaintmleux charles_leclerc and why have you never used your influence to get ME takeout café de paris "prince of monaco" ↳ charles_leclerc look what you've done... y/nstagram ♥️ y/nstagram

fan they're definitely max's cats but who is she? ↳ fan she knows alexandra so maybe they're in the same friendship group??

3 months later

liked by maxverstappen1, bffstagram and 308 others

y/nstagram working hard or hardly working 🌸

alexandrasaintmleux quand avez-vous passé votre examen ? (when's your exam?) ↳ y/nstagram lundi prochain,,, mon ami du café me manque 😔 (next monday,,, missing my cafe friend) ↳ alexandrasaintmleux nous fêterons cela quand tu auras terminé 💗 (we'll celebrate when you're finished)

bffstagram the red bulls... i wait 3 years white man does it in one week ♥️ maxverstappen1 ↳ y/nstagram hey! made him wait at least 2 months :p

friend3 the f1 book.. one of us one of us!! ↳ y/nstagram apparently i can't keep saying "the one with the red cow on it" when talking about his car,,, ↳ maxverstappen1 its a bull... literally a red bull... ↳ y/nstagram blah blah blah it's red and goes moo ↳ maxverstappen1 everyday i wake up to such disrespect ↳ charles_leclerc i'm just glad someone's keeping your ego in check ♥️ y/nstagram

friend1 when are you coming back to england :( ↳ y/nstagram i'm hoping to come visit next month! ↳ maxverstappen1 about that...

📍 jeddah, saudi arabia

👤 redbullracing, mine liked by redbullracing, y/nstagram and 1,928,385 others

maxverstappen1 First P1 of the season at the first race! Always grateful to stand on that top podium, especially today 🙂

see 14,936 other comments

fan sorry WHO is that in the third pic????

fan bro soft launching on a race win post...

y/nstagram trots op jou ❤️ proud of you ♥️ maxverstappen1 ↳ fan 🤨

fan did you guys see the way his girl jumped the fence to get to him after he won? relationship goals fr

schecoperez another red bull 1-2! 💪 ↳ maxverstappen1 you gave me a run for my money at the end there old man! ↳ schecoperez less of the old thank you

redbullracing rue when was this ↳ fan admin finding out about max's relationship at the same time as us is so on brand ↳ redbullracing and here i thought we were besties 😔 ↳ maxverstappen1 😉

danielricciardo you look hot in the second photo and it's not just the heat 😍 ↳ fan maxiel lives on ❤️

fan he tagged her as mine BROOOOOO who's got this man so down bad??

👤 maxverstappen1 liked by maxverstappen1, bffstagram and 194 others

🔒 y/nstagram account locked DOWN but it's so worth it for you ❤️

maxverstappen i'm sorry liefje i should have thought about this before inviting you... ↳ y/nstagram i don't regret going maxie,,, and i certainly don't regret hugging you after the race,, i knew what i was getting into, it's just a lot ❤️ ↳ maxverstappen1 ik ben gek op jou ❤️ (i'm crazy about you) ↳ y/nstagram mijn charmante prins ❤️ (my prince charming)

alexandrasaintmleux you do what's best for you ma cocotte 💗 honestly going private at the start of mine and charles' relationship was one of the best things for us ↳ y/nstagram the woe of being a wag 😔

daniel.jpg dude can you accept my follow request ↳ maxverstappen1 you followed her from your jpg acc but not your main? ↳ daniel.jpg never said i was smart ↳ charles_leclerc ^ ↳ georgerussell63 ^ ↳ landonorris ^ ↳ alexandrasaintmleux ^ ↳ carmenmmundt ^ ↳ maxverstappen1 ^ ↳ y/nstagram ^ ↳ oscarpiastri ^ ↳ daniel.jpg oscarpiastri HOW DID YOU GET HERE?? you haven't even MET y/n yet ↳ y/nstagram that's my son watch your tone. ↳ daniel.jpg i am very sorry miss y/n l/n PLEASE let me in ↳ y/nstagram oscarpiastri shall i? ↳ oscarpiastri lemme think on it ↳ daniel.jpg i hate it here

📍 suzuka, japan

👤 maxverstappen1 liked by maxverstappen1, y/nstagram and 1,394,582 others

redbullracing a quick look into max's garage! already over halfway through the season and your current world champion is on track for his 4th year running 💪

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maxverstappen1 you know how we do 👊

fan i see a y/n at the back!! ↳ fan who is y/n? ↳ fan his gf! she was first spotted in jeddah and she's been to quite a few of his races this year! ↳ fan do you have her ig? ↳ fan y/nstagram but it's private!

fan 4 time world champ incoming! ♥️ redbullracing

user lewis is gonna reclaim his title! ↳ fan ok gramps lets get you back to the home

fan best team in the world

user oh the gold digger is back ↳ redbullracing blocked, deleted and reported ↳ fan red bull stand on business ↳ redbullracing no one messes with OUR redbull girl! 👊

👤 maxverstappen1 liked by maxverstappen1, charles_leclerc and 274 others

🔒 y/nstagram did you know red bull gives you wings? 👼

maxverstappen1 must have taken you forever to think of that caption ↳ y/nstagram what can i say you're dating a comedic genius

friend1 damn ma lend me one of those jackets xx ↳ y/nstagram omg pls take one he won't stop giving them to me,,, ↳ friend1 i'll take the white cap too if you're offering 👀 ↳ y/nstagram 🫡

bffstagram the third pic... y/n STAND UP ↳ y/nstagram he has the prettiest eyes 😍 my man my man my maaaaan ↳ bffstagram we've lost her boys...

alexandrasaintmleux i see the ferrari jacket 👀 ↳ y/nstagram max nearly threw me out of the room fr ↳ maxverstappen1 you deserved it ↳ maxverstappen1 also i'm burning it when you're not looking ↳ y/nstagram charlie gave it to me :((((( ↳ charles_leclerc yeah max you wouldn't burn sweet charlie's jacket would you? ↳ maxverstappen1 i'd burn you IN the jacket if you don't stop ↳ charles_leclerc 🫦 damn i love when you talk dirty to me ↳ y/nstagram ,,, alexandrasaintmleux should we leave them to it? ↳ alexandrasaintmleux after what you showed me on tumblr... yeah maybe we should

daniel.jpg loving the drip ↳ maxverstappen1 has she still not accepted your main follow request? ↳ daniel.jpg no... i know it's oscars fault somehow ↳ oscarpiastri why am i catching strays? ↳ y/nstagram i watched baku 2018 ,, you're lucky i don't block your jpg account ↳ daniel.jpg THAT WAS SO LONG AGO LET ME INNNNNNN

📍 zandvoort, the netherlands

👤 maxverstappen1 liked by y/nstagram, maxverstappen1 and 1,998,928 others

redbullracing and maxverstappen1 getting P1 and being crowned a 4 time world champion at the final race of the season AND your home race? max verstappen we tip our hats to you 💙

see 98,284 comments

fan him lifting the trophy and mouthing "this is for you" to y/n i am so lonely oh my god

y/nstagram mijn kampioen ❤️ (my champion) ♥️ redbullracing, maxverstappen1

fan max verstappen world domination!! lets go champ!!!

fan y'know maybe the dutch national anthem isn't too bad...

👤 maxverstappen1 liked by bffstagram, maxverstappen1 and 290,948 others

y/nstagram i moved to monaco for a degree in french and fell for a dutchman,,,

max, it has been a privilege to know you, to share your happiness and to love and be loved by you. watching you do what you do best fills me with so much joy and i can't wait to see you dominate the track for many more years. here's to you. ik hou van je, mijn kampioen ❤️ (i love you, my champion)

(also hi fans of max, i am very scared about being perceived by so many of you, please be nice ❤️)

maxverstappen1 mijn hart en ziel, ik weet niet hoe ik het in het Engels moet uitdrukken maar bedankt dat je in mijn leven bent gekomen, je maakt alles een beetje mooier. ik hou van je ❤️ (my heart and soul, i don't know how to express it in english but thank you for coming into my life, you make everything a little brighter. i love you) ↳ y/nstagram maxie 🥹 can't wait to celebrate you tonight ❤️

fan hi y/n!!! glad you felt comfortable enough to come off private! we're a nice bunch i promise! (at least most of us are) ♥️ y/nstagram ↳ fan also if anyone is mean to you i will do something that puts me on the national news 🫶

fan we've only seen glimpses of her on tv, max you bagged a baddie DAMN ♥️ maxverstappen1

fan mama y papa ↳ landonorris real ↳ oscarpiastri real

danielricciardo I'M IN !!! ↳ danielricciardo WAIT YOU WENT OFF PRIV??? y/n thats so mean wtf :(

alexandrasaintmleux mon couple préféré 💗 (my favourite couple) ↳ y/nstagram c'est grâce à toi alex, je t'aime 💕 (it's all thanks to you alex, love you)

👤 y/nstagram liked by y/nstagram, landonorris and 1,386,297 others

maxverstappen1 an appreciation post for mijn liefje. being able to put up with me dragging her halfway across the world nearly every month so i can drive fast cars whilst studying for her degree. graduated top of her class (with an elective in dutch 😉). here's to you and to us. (oh and happy 11 months, i may love you a little bit) ❤️

see 10,827 other comments

y/nstagram my boy ❤️ could't have done it without your support ↳ maxverstappen1 i know, i am an Amazing boyfriend 😉 ♥️ y/nstagram

landonorris congrats y/n! knew there had to be a big brain in that ol' noggin of yours ↳ y/nstagram thanks lan! maybe i can actually teach you some french now 🤓

fan taking a long walk off a very short bridge

redbullracing congratulations to the brains of the couple! hoped you liked the gifts 💙 ↳ y/nstagram a dutch for dummies book, you think you're so funny don't you 😐

fan the flowers 😭😭😭

fan doesn't post about his championship but posts about his girl... need me a man like that

[matchingbatbites]

"What the fuck did you do?"

Eddie wasn't expecting hostility when he answered Jeff's phone call, his best friend's usual calm demeanor replaced with open annoyance. And yeah, okay, the annoyance itself wasn’t new, but Eddie doesn’t think he’s actually done anything recently to earn it.

"Well-"

"Actually, no. I'll tell you what you did. You retweeted photos of Steve Harrington - internationally beloved heartthrob actor Steve Harrington - along with the caption 'not to sound like a subby slut but GOD I would be his puppy baby boy in a heartbeat'. So I guess the better question is, what the fuck were you thinking, Eddie?"

Eddie's jaw clicks shut because- yeah, he had done that. Had seen those photos of Steve smoking circling the internet and spent god knows how long just staring at them, had curbed the desire to shove his hand down his pants by posting a single thirst tweet about it.

“I was thinking, Jeff, that I'm allowed to post whatever I want to my private fucking twitter, man. I mean it's a free country, isn't a guy allowed to make a horny tweet about a sexy man every now and then?”

“You are, when you actually post it to your private account and not our award winning band's main account.”

No. Oh no. There's no way Eddie actually-

He rips his phone away from his face to open twitter, and realizes two things simultaneously. One, Jeff is right, he had posted it to the band's account. Not on his private, locked, personal account, but on the account that's actually open and free for literally anyone on earth to look at.

The second thing he realizes is that their notifications are currently flooded with responses to Eddie's tweet, somehow racking up into the thousands in the few hours it's been since. 

Jesus Christ.

“Eddie?”

The metalhead jerks back into the moment and put Jeff on speaker so he can scroll through the horde of replies, says “Fuck, I fucked up. Are we gonna have to do damage control on this?”

In the mess is a reply from Gareth's own personal account: @ corrodededdie stop tweeting from the band account challenge 🙄🙄🙄

”Maybe. There hasn't been any type of response from Harrington or his people, but they might ask us to take it down if it blows up too much.“

Eddie hums, thinking they might be too little, too late about it blowing up too much, and flips over to his main account so he can reply to Gareth's little jab appropriately. He isn't surprised to see that he has a couple of new messages, probably from other people wondering just what the fuck Eddie was thinking, but when he goes to check them-

He's never been happier that he turned on messages from followers only, because then he would have missed this, missed Steve Harrington's little profile picture beaming up at him from the screen of his phone, along with a new message request.

”Jeff, I gotta go,” he says, not even realizing he's cut the other man off.

“Eddie, what-

”Harrington messaged me. I'll call you back.“

Eddie doesn't wait for a response as he hangs up on Jeff, and his hands definitely aren't shaking as he opens the message from Steve. And listen- Eddie is a fan of the guy, that much should be obvious. 

Steve had grown in popularity around the same time Corroded Coffin had; he’d gotten some part in a drama film that had skyrocketed him into stardom, and Eddie fell in love the moment he saw that gorgeous face on the silver screen for the first time. He's never had a chance to interact with the guy, has been in the same place a few times but always missed him, like ships passing in the night, but Eddie's been fine with pining from afar, just like every other person on the planet that's even remotely attracted to men.

Besides, even with how popular Corroded Coffin has gotten over the years - a couple of Grammy’s here, a dozen chart topping metal songs there - Eddie doesn’t expect Steve to just. Know who Eddie is.

With all of this in mind, Eddie is expecting some kind of semi-casual request to take the tweet down, that it's not a good look for his image-

Anything other than what Steve actually sent.

'If you're puppy baby boy, does that make me Master? Or Daddy?'

And Eddie- 

Eddie slides down, sinks into his couch cushion as all of the blood in his body suddenly shifts, rushing to fill his dick like it's a fucking race. The phone almost slips out of his hand and he fumbles it briefly before taking a deep breath. 

Is Steve serious? He wouldn't send that if he wasn't serious, right?

This could be it, could be Eddie's one chance to impress Steve, to get his foot in the door of Steve's interest. He bites his lip and types out a reply, something quick that he sends before he can change his mind.

‘I’m open to either, actually. Do you have a preference, sir?’

He doesn’t expect the typing indicator to come up immediately, and just knowing that Steve is somewhere right now, typing out a response to Eddie, is enough to have him nearly vibrating in his seat.

‘I’m partial to Daddy, myself.’

Fuck fuck fuck.

Eddie takes a breath, tries to think of a response that isn’t just ‘Please, Daddy, can I sit on your massive dick that I haven’t been able to stop thinking about since that one indie film you did that just had all of your junk out in the open?’

Steve saves him by sending another message.

‘But maybe we could start with Steve, and possibly dinner? Though I’d be happy to see where things go after that.’

He- What-

Eddie must have stopped breathing, because the next time he takes a breath his lungs burn, his mid races because there’s no way Eddie’s long term celebrity crush just asked him on a date. He sits there long enough that the screen goes dark and he scrambles to turn it back on, sees the message still there, real and unchanged.

There’s no way he can say no to this, to Steve, and his hands shake as he types out a response.

‘Dinner would be great. Just name the time and place, Daddy.’

[boysmentfs]

The fraternity party.

It was Saturday morning and as Timothy knew, today was a day full of alcohol and sex at the fraternity and like every Saturday, he couldn't study with the music so loud.

Timothy stood up from his bed, rubbed his eyes and put on his glasses, the boy was cute, with just his cute brunette hair combed halfway down, his cute glasses and his baby face and with only 1"60 height, They made Timothy one of the cutest guys in college even though everyone knew he was gay and a nerd.

"Good morning, I guess" Timothy commented as he got out of bed and went to the closet to put on something comfortable, it was Saturday, it was sunny and he was just going to be studying all day, So he just put on a white t-shirt, jeans and sandals.

Once he got ready, he sat on his bed with some books, pencils, notebooks and started studying, it had to be like this because he had a scholarship and he couldn't waste this moment, His dream was to be a scientist so he had to study a lot, it didn't affect him, he loved studying.

"I will have a future, not like that idiot Jack and his "brothers" " Timothy commented while letting out a chuckle.

While someone was laughing, or rather something, interrupted the moment, Timothy continued with his thing while saying a "come in" The moment they opened the door, to their dismay it was Jack, He was shirtless, wearing short shorts showing off his amazing hairy legs and a pair of sandals showing off his large, masculine feet.

Even though Timothy hated Jack, he actually had a crush on him but it was obvious that he would never tell him, because if that happened he knew his life would change completely.

"Hey! Lil' bro, I came to invite you to our frat party and well, I also wanted to know if we could be friends, you know? I had an argument with that idiot Luke"

Timothy looked at him and raised an eyebrow, Jack wasn't the typical idiot jock who made fun of him for being gay or nerdy, but he found it quite strange that he came to invite him to the party and even more so, Also ask him to be his friend.

"Uhm, Jack, you know that I don't like those parties and also, why would you ask me to be your friend? I mean, there are quite a few differences between us." Timothy commented in a calm and light tone as he continued reading a book.

"Uh, uh, I know that bro, but I don't know, I'm feeling nice today you know? Plus, you'd be a good replacement for Luke, I mean, two of both weren't the same in body or sexual orientation, but you guys are pretty cute and funny, so what do you say, lil' bro? Jack commented with a smile on his face.

"Sorry Jack, but I can't go to your party. Be your friend, yes, but go to your party, no. I have homework to do and a lot more chores, but seriously, have fun!"

"C'mon, bro! Don't be a party pooper, I see you studying every day, you should go out and party for a while to brighten up your life! It'll only be for a little while and then I'll leave you and you can come back to study, okay?"

Timothy turned to look at him and a smile appeared on his face.

"Okay, okay, you win, you're right, I should have some fun, but then I go back to my room to study, okay?

"yeah!" Jack commented as he watched Timothy get up from the bed and walk over to him to stand by his side, their height difference was different.

Once Timothy stood next to Jack, Jack put an arm around him as the two walked towards the frat house, once they arrived Timothy was quite surprised, There were shirtless men everywhere, women flirting with these same men, and quite a bit of alcohol.

Jack's brothers turned to see him and greeted him, Jack grabbed Timothy and they went to where they were, Timothy greeted them and they did too.

"Wow, wow, what do we have here?" one of Jack's bro's commented.

"Well, he'll be our new bro, since that idiot Luke didn't appreciate us and speaking of that"

Jack looked at Timothy.

"This is a frat party, it's hot, it's summer, Luke left some clothes at our frat, go to his room and wear what you like, okay? Back room and turn to the right."

Hearing this, Timothy nodded as he walked into the fraternity house, he wasn't surprised at all, there were clothes lying around, they were dirty, they had a weird smell, just like he imagined, Once he got to Luke's room and opened it, there were still some posters of half-naked women, workout gear, and some stuff lying around.

Jack went to his closet and looked for something clean and that would fit the heat and then he found some brown shorts with palm trees printed on them.

"These are pretty cute, hehe, I can't believe I'm going to wear frat boy clothes! So horny... I hope they fit me well."

Once Timothy told himself that, he took off his jeans and threw them on the floor while he put on Luke's shorts, once he put them on he had to go look at himself in the mirror And luckily for he, there was a full-body one in Luke's room, so he went and looked at himself, it looked pretty cute.

And then before he could get back to Jack, he started to feel weird and hot, the idea of wearing a muscled frat boy's clothes excited him but he didn't realize how much.

The heat that his body felt was too much, so he took off his shirt and let it fall on the floor, while the heat rose even more.

"What the fuck is going on!?" Timothy said while covering his mouth, he had never said a rude thing in his life, so he was in shock.

But before he could continue wondering, he saw with his own eyes how his feet began to become larger and more masculine, His fingers lengthened as a manly scent came from them.

At this point Timothy was so in shock with everything, that he froze, instead of running or calling for help, he stood in front of the mirror with a scared face.

He watched as his thin legs began to increase in size, while becoming stronger, more of an athlete, Muscles began to emerge from these same ones while their skin changed to a more mature one, Now he had two trunks as legs.

He watched as his stomach began to move on its own, burning all the fat he had so that a six pack of abs would appear, They looked very worked out, as if they were in the gym all day, Timothy knew this was all wrong, but he couldn't move.

The next thing to change were his arms, which were once thin but began to swell with pure muscle while his biceps reached the size of soccer balls, some veins stood out on his arms, his hands also changed, his fingers lengthened while now having a more masculine and mature appearance.

His thin chest began to burn as his pectorals began to bulge reaching a great size, they became large and sensitive, His torso expanded along with his shoulders to give him a more jock look.

His face began to creak as he began to change, his Adam's apple becoming even more prominent, All the baby fat he had began to oxidize to give way to a more defined jawline while a small shadow of hair appeared on this same jawline, His lips became fuller, his nose became prettier, his cheekbones became more prominent, but despite all that, he still had a rather cute and baby-like face.

He also increased in height, going from 1'60 to a powerful 1'80 making him the tallest in the fraternity.

His eyes also changed, his haircut also began to change to a more relaxing and masculine look and also somewhat jock, His hair that was brown began to change, The black began to take place to completely disappear into the brown, his hair that was also straight began to change to curly, curls fell on his face.

Timothy began to feel pressure on his cock, it was at that moment that he saw how his cock began to grow bigger under his shorts, Curious to know, he pulled down his pants and his new designer boxers and watched as his penis went from 5 centimeters to about 15 centimeters, His cock was now thick and big, even more so because it was erect, then he began to feel the need to jerk off.

"I have a nice body... Nice face and a nice new cock, why not?" Timothy commented as he began to jerk off his new cock.

As he did this, new memories began to flood his mind, memories of how he joined the fraternity, how he became friends with Jack, how he loved women and their t*ts... No, he was gay... Right?

He also remembered how this morning before the frat party he had gotten into a fight with Jack, Timothy reached orgasm and his "sweet milk" began to spread all over the floor of the room.

"Damn... Just imagining how many girls I'll pick up today and also how I'm going to feed them with my seed makes me pretty horny." Luke comment with his voice, which certainly sounded masculine and very mature.

"Right! There's a party outside, Jack and my other brothers must be waiting for me."

Luke commented and then put his cock in his shorts, left his room and arrived with his brothers.

"Wow, looks like someone isn't mad at me anymore, right Luke?" Jack commented while patting his chest.

they talked for a while and then he asked his brothers to take a photo to upload it for his Instagram.

He knew he was hot and he didn't want to waste any time showing off his great achievements.

[de4dlyniightshade]

꩜ WHAT'S A GIRL TO DO?

꩜ PAIRING: spencer reid x afab!reader

꩜ RATING: 18+, mdni

꩜ WORD COUNT: 2.9k

꩜ WARNINGS/CONTAINS!: smut, needy!spencer, vague mentions of injury, dry humping, making out, cumming in pants, handjob, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, dacryphilia, begging, light choking, brat!spencer, softdom!reader,

꩜ PROMPT(kinda): when he's begging so nicely and looking at you with those big eyes, what's a girl to do?

© to de4dlyniightshade. no translations/reposts.

[WARNING!] - explicit sexual content! mdni!

꩜ A/N: ^•-•^

You knew that Spencer could be stubborn since the day you met him, which was never much of an issue; everyone could be stubborn at times, but this was hell in a handbag. He had only been out of hospital for two days, and you already felt like you were losing your voice from spending the entire day yelling his name, not to mention constantly forcing him to stay in bed.

"Spencer! sit down! You're not supposed to even be out of the hospital yet, let alone on your feet." You scolded for about the tenth time today. Honestly, you felt like a nurse taking care of an elderly, demented man with the willpower of a thirteen-year-old boy.

"I'm fine! I can walk; I don't wanna sit down anymore." Spencer bargained with you, trying to convince you that he wasn't in complete agony, which you knew he was, and you weren't about to let him make it any worse. You needed him healed and out of your hair as soon as possible, not because you didn't want to be around him; you just knew that he wanted to be better and back out in the field.

"You're a terrible patient, you know that?" You grumbled as you walked over to him, clearly unsteady on his feet, using your shared sofa to keep himself upright. "Sit down before you fall down," you ordered, placing your hands on his shoulders and urging him back onto the couch, where he insisted on being rather than in bed, where he was supposed to be, whining about wanting to be nearer to you, which is what made you cave. You couldn't deny him quality time with you, especially when he gave you his winning puppy eyes.

"If you don't cut it out, you're going straight back to bed, or I can give the doctor one phone call and he'll be the one taking care of you." You didn't mean to be demanding or strict with him; you just didn't want him to hurt himself further. It was purely out of love, and Spencer knew that, but he just couldn't help but want to be close to you. He had spent just over a week in a boring hospital room being showered with care, but it wasn't the care he wanted. He wanted to touch you; he needed it, and he was sick of trying to drop hints.

"Will you sit with me at least? please?" He pouted with those same puppy eyes that he used to get here in the first place, and you just couldn't say no, letting out a defeated sigh. "Alright, fine, but I'm still not happy with you," you warned, pointing an accusing finger at him as you carefully sat down next to him, lifting your arm instinctively so he could rest his head on your chest, his arms snaking around your waist.

You sat there with him curled against your chest, your fingers combing through his long hair as your chin rested on top of his head. It was a completely innocent moment between the both of you, or so you thought. Your brows furrowed as you felt Spencer sneak his hand under your shirt, trailing his way up until you grabbed his wrist, stopping him just shy of his destination.

"Nice try, mister," you quipped, Spencer letting out a whine of protest, fighting your hold on his wrist to no avail. "Come on, please? Can I please just touch you?" He begged, moving to rest his chin on your shoulder, trying to go three for three with those big eyes, but you weren't going to let him win this time. You were soft on him, but not that soft; you knew exactly where it would lead.

"Nope, hands off, hoppy; I know your little ploy and it's not gonna happen." Your tone was stern as you stared him down, his hand still under your shirt and a pout still on his lips. You did feel bad denying him, but doctors orders were no strenuous activities, and although groping wasn't strenuous, what would follow definitely was.

"Please, I just wanna feel you, I promise." Spencer bargained desperately, and you could feel him breaking down your will, but you forced yourself not to fall for it. "Spencer, no, don't make promises you can't keep." You felt a tightening in your chest as he looked back at you, pouting with big, sad eyes, and you could've sworn you saw his eyes welling up with tears.

"I'll keep it, I will, I promise. Please just let me touch you." You could hear the desperation in his voice as he begged and pleaded with you, tears now truly welling up in his eyes, and you broke. "Oh Spence, shh shh, don't cry, honey," you moved to quickly cup his cheeks, walking straight into his trap as he looked up at you with his picture-perfect sad face. Who could blame you?

"j-just miss you," he sniffled, and he wasn't lying about that or trying to trick you; he did actually miss you; he missed your warm, soft body and being close to you after having spent a week with the only physical affection being a peck on the lips, cheek, or forehead and a reassuring hand in his. Needless to say, he was sexually frustrated.

"Okay, okay, but you promised only touching, got it?" You reminded him, a stern look in your eyes as he nodded eagerly before moving to bury his face in the crook of your neck, finally inching his hand up to cup your breast, an almost silent whine falling from his lips, and you melted. You wouldn't admit it, but you'd missed his touch just as badly as he'd missed yours.

You felt Spencer breathing heavily against your neck as he continued to caress your soft flesh, his other hand gripping at your soft waist as you ran your fingers through his hair, cupping the back of his head as a quiet moan slipped past your lips when he suddenly pinched your nipple between his fingers, the sound making his sweatpants tighten and blood quickly rushing south.

"I-I need you, please," Spencer whined into your neck, placing a few open-mouthed kisses over your pulse, letting his tongue dart out to taste your skin, the feeling of his hot mouth on you almost clouding your judgement enough to let him continue before you realised what he was doing, snapping out of it.

"Spence, no, remember w-what the doctor said." You tried to pull away as you spoke, but Spencer just secured his arm around your waist, tugging you closer as he continued to mouth at your neck, gently suckling and licking your smooth skin, still rolling your sensitive nipple between his fingers.

"P-Please, I'll take anything. J-Just please, please touch me," Spencer mewled, moving to press his hard length into you, wincing as he strained his leg. "Spence, sit back, please." You placed your hand on his chest, pushing him to sit back to take the strain off of his injury, Spencer whining as you did, the loss of your body heat making him pout at you.

"Spence, come one, you know better," you sighed, a sympathetic look on your face as you kept your hand on his chest, stopping him from hurting himself further. "P-Please, I c-can't; it h-hurts, please," he panted, his eyes pleading and glassy as he shifted where he sat, his tip rubbing against the inside of his pants and making him whimper.

You felt yourself losing your composure watching him buck his hips into nothing, looking at you with those pleading eyes, his hair awry and clothes wrinkled. "You promise to stay completely still?" you questioned, watching Spencer lick his lips before he nodded quickly.

"Promise, I-I promise," he breathed, watching intently as you removed your hand from his chest, quickly moving to sling your leg over him, straddling his lap, and placing your hands on his shoulders. A whimper falling from his lips the second your clothed core pressed to his as he instinctively rutted his hips upward.

"Still. Spencer. Or I'll stop." You warned, lifting yourself off his lap to prove your point. "Sorry! 'm sorry!" He apologised quickly, forcing himself to sit still, placing his hands on your hips as you slowly lowered yourself back down, moving to tuck his hair behind his ears, letting your hands rest on either side of his neck.

"Now, behave; do you hear me?" You scolded, your eyes boring into his as he nodded shakily, swallowing thickly in anticipation before you leaned in, stopping a mere inch from his lips just to tease a little for a brief moment before you closed the gap, pressing your lips to his in an open-mouthed, almost desperate kiss.

Spencer's kissing quickly got messy, his organised, precise movements becoming sloppy and desperate as he kissed you with fervour, his hands gripping at the flesh on your hips, his cock twitching in his pants as he forced himself not to fuck into you no matter how badly he wanted to.

You let your tongue slip into his mouth, the feeling making Spencer let out a muffled moan, hands tightening on your hips to ground himself as you explored his mouth, your warm tongue sliding against his, the whole thing so messy and wet, a mixture of yours and Spencer's saliva trickling down his chin.

You were the first to pull away for air, a thick string of saliva connecting your lips to his, and you couldn't help but pull your bottom lip between your teeth at the sight of him, his hair tousled, cheeks flushed, and lips swollen, red, and glossy with spit, all while his painfully hard, leaking cock throbbed against you. You simply couldn't resist grinding on him, revelling in the way his eyes fluttered closed, brows pulled together, and his jaw fell slack.

"Oh, p-please," Spencer breathed, squeezing his eyes shut tight as he struggled to compose himself as you continued to grind on him, setting a steady pace as you ran your hands down from his neck to his shoulders and back up before you leaned in, pressing a kiss to the corner of his lips before trailing down to his jaw, placing open-mouthed kisses along his jawline and down to his neck, stopping to nip and suck just below his ear, the sensation of your hot mouth on him making his hips roll into you.

Spencer couldn't resist trailing his hands under your shirt again to cup your boobs, massaging them gently in his large hands as you continued sucking red and purple marks into the smooth skin of his neck, licking over each mark as you did, tangling your hands in his hair, and tugging lightly, eliciting a moan from him as you did.

Spencer could feel an all-too-familiar feeling rising in his stomach as you rutted your hips into him at a fast pace, purposefully trying to get him to cum in his pants, and he wasn't about to stop you. The feeling of his impending orgasm completely overriding his better judgement for the mess it would make.

"I-I'm gonna-" Spencer couldn't even finish what he was saying, cutting himself off with a loud whimper as you rutted your hips particularly hard into him, a quiet moan falling from your lips, the sound making Spencer throb in his pants as he shallowly fucked into you, making sure to keep his leg completely still so you wouldn't stop your movements.

"Gonna make a mess of yourself, baby?" You husked in his ear, burying your hand in his hair and tugging at the roots, a choked whimper falling from his parted lips as he squeezed his eyes closed, his jaw falling slack.

"Mhm, d-don't stop, p-please don't stop," he mewled, rutting his cock into you as he felt his release so close he could almost taste it, letting out a constant stream of whimpers and moans as you trailed your hand around from the back of his head to rest on his throat, gradually pressing your fingertips harder into his pulse.

The feeling of your hand wrapped around his throat and the blood flow being cut off had him choking out a moan, babbling incoherently, his hands gripping your waist tightly as he shot spurts of cum into his sweatpants, completely soiling them, a slew of desperate sounds spilling from him.

"Happy now, hm? Always get your way," you murmured when you realised that you'd been hustled into giving him what he wanted, the ruse of him simply missing you clouding your judgement. Spencer couldn't even reply to you, just whining quietly, completely fucked out and pliant under you. The sight making a devious idea come to mind, a smirk tugging at your lips.

You shifted off his lap to rest on his thighs, trailing your hands down his body to stop at his hips, Spencer letting out a breath, thinking you were just sweetly touching him until you hooked your fingers into the waistband of his sweatpants, harshly tugging them down enough to free his spent cock, the cold air making him gasp and open his eyes to look at you, a confused expression on his face until you pressed your hand to his length.

"No underwear, huh? Was this what you wanted all along?" you teased, quirking your brow at him as you slowly stroked your hand up his slick shaft, spencer writhing underneath you at the feeling, your words not even registering in his mind.

"I-I c-can't 'm sensitive," he mewled, gasping and arching his back as you wrapped your hand around his sensitive tip, purposefully paying extra attention just to watch him squirm and hear him whimper.

"Thought this was what you wanted, no? You wanted me to touch you." Your tone was low as you spoke, your words making him whine as his hips stuttered away from you, your brutal touch on his oversensitive tip making him writhe under you, pathetic cries ripped from his throat as tears welled in his eyes.

"P-Please, o-oh my g-god, please, I c-can't," Spencer gasped, his cock throbbing in your hand as you pumped his length at a fast pace, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth as he panted and whimpered desperately, his hands gripping your thighs as tears spilled down his flushed cheeks, the overstimulation completely overwhelming him.

"You can, baby; I know you can; c'mon, pretty boy, cum for me," you breathed, clenching around nothing at the sight of him, his jaw slack and brows furrowed as he arched his back, his body tense and twitching as he felt his second orgasm approaching quickly.

"M g-gonna i-i mmph," he choked out, his head tipping back as he let out a quiet sob, his lips quivering and tears streaking down his neck. "That's it, baby, look at me. Wanna see that pretty face when I make you cum" you practically moaned, moving your hand from where it rested on his hip to take his face into your hand, his eyes fluttering open to look at you like you told him to.

"Good boy, such a good boy," you breathed, the praise making his cock twitch, rutting his hips into your hand as he choked out nonsense, a mix of your name and desperate pleas falling from his lips before he gasped loudly, his eyes rolling back his head and mouth dropping open as he came, making a mess of your hand and himself, his back arched towards you and hands gripping your thighs so tightly you were surprised it didn't hurt.

"That's it, baby, I've got you," you breathed, wrapping your arm around him and tugging him towards you as you continued to stroke him through his orgasm, the feeling making him let out quiet sobs into your neck as he wrapped his arms around you, his body shaking and twitching in the aftershocks of his high and the overstimulation.

You finally released his spent cock when he tried to squirm away from you, whining pitifully into your neck. "Shh shh baby," you murmured, wiping your hand on your pants before placing it on the back of his head and letting your nails lightly scratch his scalp to soothe him, a content sigh falling from his lips as he nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck.

"T-thank you," he breathed against your skin, his words making you croon at him, hugging him closer to you. "Too soft on you, y'know that?" You spoke as you let out a breathy laugh before you pressed a gentle kiss to his temple, your words making him huff slightly, knowing you were right.

"m sorry, just needed you so badly," he breathed into your skin, his voice laced with guilt and his tone hushed and meek, which made you coo at him. "Aw, don't be sorry, baby, can't say no to you, not when you beg so nicely," you teased, the reminder of how he begged so desperately, making him whine out of embarrassment, his cheeks blushing a dark pink.

"Let's get you cleaned up, hm?" You spoke softly, stroking his hair as he nodded into you before pulling away to look up at you with those big, pleading eyes and a pretty pout on his lips. "Will you watch Doctor Who with me after?" He asked meekly, his antics making your heart swell as you cupped his cheeks, pressing a kiss to his soft lips. "Of course I will, sweet boy," you spoke against his lips, feeling him smile before he surged forward to press his lips to yours in a passionate kiss, smiling into you, feeling like the luckiest man alive.

꩜ TAGLIST:

@cancersunthatsit @mindfullycriminal @teachugger69 @queermaxwooo @olives-and-sunshine @ac0511 @deluluforu @reidsdaisies @fliesforeyes @iluvreid @unimportantweirdo

(tagging moots bcs i'm annoying asf;)

[oukabarsburgblr]

hii!! this is so embarassing to ask because i never do this,, but by any chance do you have plans on making a continuation of the ybc x male reader fic? i enjoyed it like SO MUCH 🥹 i'd like to know more of reader's relationship with the characters, especially some of them who seems to be into him (akemi, kashima, tamura, toono? etcetc) 👉👈 more smut would be appreciated too heheh love to see the reader getting manhandled and all 🤭 thank you for your hard work by the way!! big fan of your works 💖💖

drabble...aftermath of YBC

FEATURING : AKEMI, TAMURA, KASHIMA, TOONO x male reader

Pls dont be embarassed to flood my inbox hahaha. i feel like my work is appreciated when they do. Thank you for reading my posts! I dont intend to continue on YBC since the manga itself is unfinished and i prioritise the plot of the original manga. Although i did promise a small fic somewhere in my old comments so heres a snack 🌭

Spanking, filming, talking, dubcon, small smut (not as much as the previous one)

(m/n) liked to believe that his life would continue as normal after that. Maybe he shouldn't really put his trust in those perverts. Akemi out of all people.

"Look here, (m/n)-chan~"

The blonde cooed, pulling the (h/c)'s face up to look at the camera in front of them. (m/n) only drooled, his body limp on the singular bed with Akemi humping his ass in the blonde's room.

The day before, was the revolutionary gangbang and (m/n) passed out, too tired to even clean himself but he awoke in the president's room. His body was cleaned and expected his lower half ached but he didn't expect the blonde to climb on top of him asking for seconds.

"Ahn! You're so- mmmff cute, (m/n)!" Akemi mewled, pounding his dick into the (h/c)'s ass, who was on his knees, his teary-eyed cock-drunk face facing the camera, giving his best lewd face with the bed creaking underneath them.

Akemi proposed for a video, wanting a memento of their special moment, albeit (m/n) was no longer a virgin, he reassured (m/n) that he was still as sensitive as one.

"Mmmn ughh unh-" (m/n)'s breath hitched, he fisted the sheets underneath him as his sore hole leaked lube and twitched every time Akemi thrusted his dick in. He was not sober, still drowsy from yesterday's pounding session but he let the blonde ravaged him, too tired to resist, and it was a win for him too.

Pushing his hips back, (m/n) weakly tried to fuck himself on the blonde too, the president laughing and kissing his back with encouragement. "You really are the best. Even better than us Yaribu!" Akemi licked and bit his neck, drawing out whimpers from the (h/c).

Akemi pulled out and quickly finished himself on (m/n)'s ass, making sure the camera caught view of his cum smeared all over the (h/c)'s bottom and dripping down his back. (m/n) whined, he wanted another round as Akemi leaned forward to grab the phone, pulling (m/n) up and shoving it in his face.

"Say 'not a virgin'~" (m/n) did not say it, only frowning and smacking the laughing blonde who delved into the former's previous request, making sure he recorded every single orgasm (m/n) achieved, his camera lens capturing his squirting cum-filled hole.

-

Tamura was a bit nicer to (m/n) when it comes to sex. Although his mouth was foul, he was a cooperating person in intimacy. They were friends, maybe. But the (h/c) wished the fucker would shut up at times.

"Come on, senpai. Pretty sure you can go faster than that!"

They would fuck if they had run into each other, if his vice-captain wasn't by his side, of course. Tamura sloppily making out with (m/n) as they stumble somewhere private to satiate their lust, in this case, the janitor's closet.

(m/n) had tears slipping down his chin, whines from his throat as he rode the blue-haired second year. His knees scratched against the wooden floor, his ass slapping on top of Tamura's thighs and his anus swallowing the latter's veiny cock.

"Ahn ahn ahh ah! Mmff- I'm gonna cum! C-Cumming- soon-" (m/n) squealed as he squirted out ropes of cum onto Tamura's abs, his hole clenching around the latter who quickly thrusted up into the squirming third year. "Who knew you had this side of you!"

The second year kissed (m/n), his tongue shoved down the latter's throat before pulling out to mock him again. "You have such a neat face and a polite facade. You're the perfect slut!"

Slapping Tamura, (m/n) hissed in pain as the second year dug his nails into his waist. "Fuck you." Tamura licked his lips in excitement. "I like you." He purred, aroused at getting cursed at.

-

Kashima was the sweetest. In sex and in person.

"(m/n)-senpai!" The first year ran to him, catching up at the other end of a hallway. "How are you today?"

He grinned and would suck up to the volleyball captain, wanting his attention from his other crush. Kashima would often try to run into the third year, crossing paths in the upperclass' hallways or passing by the volleyball gym. It was cute, to say the most, Kashima's little crush that is.

It wasn't so little when he was in other positions.

"(m/n)-senpai urmmff! I like you! Ngh mmngg-" Kashima held up (m/n) against the shower room, the (h/c) pulling him in when there was no one and they slobbered over each other, tearing clothes off and the first year was so passionate with him.

But (m/n) knew his mind would drift elsewhere. Toono, to be exact.

(m/n) panted, his arms around the ravenette's neck, his legs locking around Kashima's torso who was pounding his hips into (m/n)'s against the cold and wet wall. His eyes lulled back into his skull at Kashima's rough thrusts.

He knew there was something going on between Kashima and Toono, he saw it during the end of the gangbang. And he had no plans to interfere, only indulging in Kashima's affections for him as he doted on his kind kouhai.

-

Toono was still embarrassed to face the third year, hiding away every time their eyes clashed and jumping into bushes if the (h/c) so happened to be walking by. It was annoying and amusing to the third year, the reaper who had brought him to the Yaribu's room.

But it was getting tired to see him running away.

"Stop being so scared of me."

(m/n) confronted the brunette, who cornered himself in the library when the (h/c) had only wanted to grab a book for his upcoming studies. Toono nodded wildly, agreeing with the third year. "Y-Yes! Of course, senpai!"

The (h/c) rolled his eyes. "I told you, I'm fine. It wasn't that bad, it was fun too!" "FUN???" (m/n) pressed his lips into a thin line. "Duh. It's a gangbang." "B-But, we're guys so-"

The captain grabbed his face and smacked their lips together, wanting to shut up the stammering brunnette. It wasn't the most morally correct action but it felt right and Toono wouldn't shut up about his oh so heterosexual-ness.

Toono was stiff at first before he began to melt into the kiss, his hands shaking as he gripped onto (m/n)'s shirt. The (h/c) pulled away, gazing down at the blushing first year. "You should stop talking about 'we're all men' stuff, okay? It's repetitive and a fib."

The brunette only nodded, in awe of the third year. (m/n) promptly left the starstruck Toono, as he ushered himself out of the library with a satisfied huff.

[END SCENE]

[unedited]

Afterthoughts :

The anime left out so many things in the manga i just speedrunned an hour ago. Like they did NOT look like twinks. I could not find a future with Shikatani, Itome, Yaguchi, Jimmy and Yuri for this specific scenario, like they would not gaf, especially Itome who would definitely plan to murder (m/n) at one point.

With said, I would not be writing for YBC (except for that one user rq i forgot the username to) not until Kashima and Toono finally get together properly. I LURVE KASHIMA ARGH.

Sorry for those who's seen the cropped out fic for this and im aware i did not put my 100% for this mess. I dont think i can write properly any time soon and I just realised I'm terrible with requests haha. Think im gonna focus on my ocs more. Had so much fun with those aus.

BONUS :

Daisuke grasped his captain's face, licking (m/n)'s lips as they stumbled onto the desk of the empty classroom. "I can't stand it. Seeing you with them." The (h/c) felt shivers run down his spine as Daisuke pulled his uniform off. "It just happens. Thought nothing would change."

(m/n) gasped out, his body lying on the table as Daisuke pressed himself on top of the (h/c), his heart racing and his hands shaking. "I was furious. Furious at them for harassing you. But I never thought you'd go to them." "People are making a big fuss out of my virginity. It's just sex- mmff!"

The (h/c) covered his mouth as Daisuke shoved his hand into his pants, fondling and pressing his crotch. "You are everything to me, (m/n). Everything I could ever wish for." Daisuke kissed his captain's neck, pulling off his own shirt.

"You are the pinnacle of my sins and greed."

(m/n) felt his heart was beating so fast, his hands groping the ravenette's chest as he opened his legs further, helping Daisuke shuffle his pants off. "Should've told me sooner." He mumbled, licking and biting Daisuke's neck.

"I was waiting for you first." Daisuke snapped back, pulling (m/n)'s face and shoving his tongue against the latter's, making out passionately, drool slipping out from the corner of their mouths.

"It's my fault then?" The captain teased, his mind getting hotter as he bucked his hips against Daisuke's. "No. I could never blame you. It's those stupid perverts."

(m/n) laughed as he cupped the pouting ravenette's cheeks. "You have no one to blame but yourself." He winked at his vice-captain. "Then let me make up to you." Daisuke grinned, his body pressing more against the twitching (h/c), only the evening sun baring witness to their ludicrous confessions.

TAGLIST :

@tehyunnie @rainnyydaysworld

The difference in quality w my oc and the ybc members???? I failed you all💀 ill edit it properly

[coff33andb00ks]

lando + 34 plsss <3 tyy

34: holding hands while driving riding (changed for reasons)

Requests closed until I catch up <3

Lando thanks the crew again, pausing at the top of the steps to watch you cross the tarmac to the waiting car. He smiles, his nerves starting up, opening the camera on his phone to video you, slowly descending and pausing again at the bottom. The early morning sunlight slanting across the airport dances off your hair and his nerves settle, because he knows how happy you are.

"I'm gonna ask you to marry me today," he says softly.

He's grinning when you turn back to see what's taking him so long. Ending the recording, he jogs to catch up with you, his breath shaky as he bends to offer you a sweet kiss.

The ride to the rented chalet is quiet, your head leaning on his shoulder. He's holding your hand in his lap, his thumb idly stroking your bare ring finger. He tries to imagine it with the ring he bought months ago adorning it and his heart leaps into his throat, stealing his breath for a moment. But you hum, your other hand sliding over his and he feels the worries fade, his heart settling in its rightful place. He tilts his head, presses a kiss into your hair.

"Love you," you murmur.

It still makes him feel weak to hear you say those words. "Love you more."

He doesn't mean he loves you more than you love him, but you always playfully bicker every time he says it. He lets you win, heart racing as the car stops outside the chalet.

He's got his phone out again, recording you going up the steps. "I love you more than the bad days," he says softly, waiting until you turn to check on him then ending the video and heading after you.

The ring box is heavy in his coat pocket as he walks with you along the trail and he feels sick as he watches you skip ahead with one of your usual bursts of energy.

"I love you more than any distance between us," he whispers, the sickness wilting under the beauty of your smile when you turn back.

You always turn back. Always wait for him to catch up. Always smile, even when you're mad or upset at him. He was so used to people leaving him behind, carrying on without him when he couldn't find his footing. When you didn't, when you waited patiently and gave him the encouragement he needed he realized his footing was fine, it was the goals he'd set that were unobtainable.

Your hand slides into his and he would walk anywhere with you if it made you smile like you are now. The destination doesn't matter, he realizes that now. It's the journey-

It's the climb. Holy shit, Hannah Montana was right.

-and the person at his side during it.

It's scary and terrifying and he's worried he'll fuck up more than he makes things right. The box in his pocket weighs a ton now and he can feels his palms sweating, his mouth going dry.

"It's so beautiful out here. I'm so glad we're here," you say, slowing down to admire the wildflowers growing alongside the trail.

He lets go of your hand. You're going to pick a few, take them back and tuck them in a jar in the kitchen. And his mind flashes with the image of you bringing flowers and light into his life until it ends.

When you turn back, a bunch of flowers in your hands, he's on his knees.

"Lando?"

"I love you."

"I love you," you whisper and he can see the confusion, the concern. Until he pulls the box out. Then it's just pure joy and love.

"I... I had a speech," he whispers as tears start falling. "Can't remember it though, only that I love you. I love you more than yesterday and I'll love you more than anything that tries to pull us apart. I love you more, y/n. Will you-"

"Yes," you sob.

"-marry me," he grunts as you throw your arms around him. Wildflowers scatter and the ring box hits the ground but he doesn't care.

He's got you.

[zweiginator]

hey bestie could I request patrick and art taking turns eating the reader out (or at the same time)????? feel like that would be my dream fr. love your writing!!!

OH.

patrick and arts' confidence had been struggling. they had just lost their fourth doubles match. in a row. this was uncommon--no, it had never happened before. one loss happens. two is bad luck. three is shaken confidence. but four, four becomes a habit.

and you heard their coach yelling at them after their loss. you, expecting your best friends to win, had promised to take them out for wings at their favorite bar after their win. of course, they didn't win, but their dejected little puppy dog eyes made you feel so bad. so you took them out anyway.

you would never tell them this, but they look so cute in their matching outfits. snug black shorts that hug their muscular thighs. a t-shirt adorning their beloved tennis club. art wore his ball cap backwards; patrick's was worn the normal way.

and they were so sad. barely talking to you, sighing as they sucked and bit on their wings, pushing their fingers into their mouth. you kind of just watched them eat.

and the thing about your relationship with art and patrick was that it had teetered and almost bled over the line for the one and a half years you all had been friends. nothing about your relationship was traditional. on the road, you would all share a bed. and sometimes you wore art's shirt to bed and patrick's boxers. you commented on how handsome they look multiple times a week, and laughed at how flustered they would get. the boys ogled at your ass when you played your own matches, the wind pushing your tiny skirt up as a gift to them. but you had never, ever fully committed to pushing those boundaries. none of you had ever kissed, nor had you indulged in your sexual fantasies.

but that doesn't mean you didn't have them. and you knew art and patrick talked about them when you weren't there.

so you had an idea. it was stupid, and maybe you were feeling cocky at how pathetic they looked sitting across from you in a silence that was bordering on uncomfortable. but you gave them a deal.

"your guys' confidence is wavering." you tell them, pushing your finger into their basket of wings. you suck some of the sauce off. patrick and art are listening; it's the first thing anyone has said at this celebratory-dinner-turned -depressing-pity-party. "and hey, you're both incredibly good at tennis. so it makes sense that you're this upset."

they nod, and reach for the same fry. art pushes the basket towards patrick, and he happily shoves a handful in his mouth.

"but if you sit here and let it get you down, you're both gonna get in your head and keep losing."

"how do we avoid that? it may be too late." patrick takes a sip of his drink. art has his arms crossed over his chest.

"have something that drives you to want to win so bad, that you don't have a choice but to win." you lean forward. their eyes are big and confused.

"we always want to win." art shrugs.

"and if you do," you begin. "i will give you both a present of sorts."

"which is?" patrick's interest is piqued. but you can tell he's pissed at you insinuating they don't want to win enough.

"if you win your doubles on thursday, i'll let you do whatever you want to me." you whisper it, and hear them gulp.

your promise alluded to a conversation you had overheard six months prior. you weren't even supposed to be at their apartment, but you had had a bad day and wanted to watch a movie with them. they were talking loud in the living room, and you quickly realized it was about you.

"i wouldn't purposely ruin our friendship, is what i'm saying." art said. "but if she let us fuck her--i would do it immediately."

patrick interjected. "i would do disgusting things to her. and i would let her do them right back to me. seriously, anything."

the word anything was the kicker here. because ever since that conversation, you wondered what anything would be for them. how they would fuck you. what their fantasies were.

patrick wipes his mouth with a napkin and leans forward. "both of us together? or we separately can do anything we want?"

you shrug. "whatever you both want. that's the promise. i don't have any stipulations on how it's done."

"holy fuck." art is flustered, maybe because he realizes you know he is just as perverted as his best friend.

you all shook on it, like it was a stupid bet. it kind of was.

and by thursday, you were nervous. they were playing some of the top-ranked players in the nation. of course, art and patrick had good rankings, respectively, but they had been steadily dropping down the ranks since their losing streak began.

everyone at the match was rooting for art and patrick, but they didn't expect them to win. and you didn't know what it meant for your friendship with the boys that you were on the edge of your seat with your fingers crossed, praying they would win. for you.

they came out strong, waving to the crowd, but especially to you. and when the match began, you had never seen their reflexes so fast, their hits so precise. the other boys were gaining on them, but the deep grunts coming from art and patrick, the sweat running down their necks, it all showed they wanted this so fucking bad.

they won like it was easy. of course, they had actually tried incredibly hard--but they made it look nonchalant. and they looked at you as they hugged each other, celebrating a win that signified much more than fans saw on the surface.

they decided to cash in their prize that same night. that's what they said when they came up to you, beaming. their chests heaved, but their smiles were big. and nobody around knew exactly what they meant.

so you lay on patrick's bed, in your little skirt and a tank top, resting up on your elbows so you can watch them. you notice how they are both there; they didn't decide to go separately.

neither of them really say a word at first. patrick slips one of your shoes off and art the other. they look at each other as their hands run up your bare leg, until they reach the waistband of your skirt.

"do you wanna do the honors, artie?" patrick asks.

art quickly pulls your skirt down your legs. they admire the pink lacy panties you're wearing.

"take off your shirt." art tells you.

you do, quickly. you aren't wearing a bra. their breath hitches.

"fuck me." patrick lunges forward and sucks your nipple into his mouth, his teeth grazing against the sensitive bud. art goes for your neck, pressing open-mouthed kisses along your jaw and down to your collarbones. his strong hands feel your breast. you're trying not to moan, not to give them the satisfaction that this is for anyone but them. but you do.

art returns the favor by turning your face to his. he kisses you desperately, moaning into your mouth, his spit wet on your chin. patrick feels left out. he moves up your body by kissing your jaw on the other side, before he forcefully kisses your mouth. he is hungry. at a quick glance, you see how hard they are. but they don't pull out their cocks. they don't pull your hand to feel their erections. and they don't tell you to suck them off.

ininstead,stead their mouths travel downward, each of them pulling one of your legs apart. they press sloppy kisses down your chest, licking down your stomach, until they are laying on their own stomachs, looking up at you. patrick kisses your inner thigh. he pulls your panties down your legs.

"her pussy is so pretty." art admires. they're talking like you're not even there.

"look how fucking wet she is."

your legs shake as you bite your lip.

"should we take turns, or should we share?" art asks.

patrick is greedy, and he hooks both of his arms around your legs, his hands on your ass. he presses wet, hot kisses to your cunt and licks at your clit. your hips buck, and art pushes them down, cooing in your ear. you can tell he's jealous, that he wants to help too.

"good girl." art praises. his breath feels good against your ear, and you move to kiss him, your hands tangled in his pretty blond hair.

patrick's fingers move inside you. they're fat and soaked and his tongue feels good as it moves in circles over your swollen clit.

art pulls away from your mouth and patrick pulls the hem of art's shirt.

"come taste her."

your mouth hangs open as patrick pulls his fingers from you and offers them to art. and the moan you let out as art sucks them into his mouth is fucking pornographic.

and then art's mouth is on your cunt. his fingers press into your thighs and it hurts in the best way. art is louder than you expected, and louder than patrick. he spits on your cunt and spreads it open to admire your hole, soaked and pretty for them. he hums and moans and groans into your pussy, and patrick can't take it.

so they share you. their tongues touch and their spit mixes as they eat your pussy, their hips bucking into the bed.

"tastes so fucking good." patrick moans, his thumb pushing into you.

art looks up at you, at how fucked out you look. you cum on their tongues--both of them. and you watch as they continue to lap at your sensitive clit, begging you to cum just one more time for them.

they don't want this to be over. and you think about how this was what they wanted, this is what they decided on when you gave them that choice. this was their anything.

[avatar-anna]

Champagne Problems

so...this is super long, the longest fic i've written in a hot minute. like 18.k words long. i wasn't going to post it until part two was underway, but i'm kind of excited to share it. here is the aftermath of champagne problems...

Part Two

*.*

"Don Perignon, you bought it, no crowd of friends applauded, your hometown skeptics called it Champagne problems."

Your fingers moved across the keys of the grand piano as you mumbled softly to yourself, only loud enough that the voice recorder on your phone would pick up on it. This wasn't your typical method of songwriting, you weren't even sure there was a song to actually write; but the melody had been haunting you for days, pressing against your mind until you finally sat down and played it.

It wasn't often you thought of the events that occurred a year and a half ago. You usually did everything in your power not to think about that night, knowing that nothing ever good came out of dwelling on that particular wrinkle of your past. You only looked forward, sometimes hoping that if you didn't think about what happened, your memories of the worst night of your life would eventually disappear from your mind altogether.

But there was something about this melody that brought that night to the forefront of your memory. You'd played it over and over on the piano for a few minutes, waiting for the words to come. Your mind kept circling back to the past, and after trying to avoid it, you finally let emotion win out. No one was in the studio with you anyway, it would be safe to unlock that particular box. Just for a few minutes.

"She would've made such a lovely bride, what a shame she's fucked up in the head," you said to yourself, the last part coming out as an afterthought. You laughed a little to yourself, remembering the disapproving stares and the whispers behind your back that people always thought went unnoticed by you. "But you'll find the real thing instead. She'll patch up your tapestry that I shed."

Despite knowing that leaving your would-be fiance was the right choice for you, breaking up with him was the hardest thing you'd ever done. It still hurt to remember that night, to recall the look of absolute devastation on his face when you stopped him from reaching into his pocket for the little velvet box you knew was in there. He didn't deserve to be wrecked so thoroughly, especially by someone like you. He had been sweet and kind and gentlemanly. He treated you like a princess and defended you to his family when they didn't approve. He was everything a man should've been to you and more.

And all you could do in return was prove his family right.

You stopped murmuring lyrics for a moment, letting that last thought float through the empty room on somber notes. You thought about your ex now, wondering where he was now and hoping he was well. You hoped he was in love and happy, that he'd forgotten all about you. He deserved all the best things that love could grant a person. You wanted that for him. You wanted someone who had the capacity for the kind of love he wanted to give.

Repeating the last few lines again, the next few thoughts came pouring out of you, the words carrying a bittersweet taste to them.

"Your mom's ring in your pocket, her picture in your wallet, you won't remember all my Champagne problems."

The song tapered off soon after that, and you realized there was nothing left in you to say. You felt lighter afterwards, as if pushing some of those long-forgotten memories out of you and onto the grand piano eased the weight you'd been carrying around on your shoulders for the last eighteen months. Quickly stopping the recording, you set a reminder on your phone to listen to it tomorrow and write down everything you'd said. The recording itself was lengthy, long pauses stretching between lyrics as you worked through your memories and attempted to vocalize them. Hopefully something was there to actually mold into verses and a chorus, if not, it was a rather odd but surprisingly satisfying therapy session.

Gathering your things into the bag at your feet, you stood up from the piano, stretching your arms above your head. It was easy to get lost in a good melody, but your poor body always paid the price if you spent too much time bent over a guitar or piano.

It was as you stretched that you realized someone was at the door. He was leaning against the doorframe, watching as you shouldered your bag and slipped your shoes back on your socked feet. He didn't say anything as you walked over to him, just stepped out of the way so you could walk out of the studio. Harry normally wasn't this quiet, in fact, he could be quite the chatterbox if the mood struck him. But his silence told you he'd probably heard more of your session than you would've liked. Because one thing Harry liked to do in all his chattering was pepper you with questions about yourself, which was annoying since you were constantly trying to have him not get to know you.

"Coffee?" was all he said as you walked toward the elevator at the end of the hall. The sleeve of his patterned sweater brushed against your arm, and you resisted the urge to lean into him. He always wore the coziest clothes when in the studio, and it made you want to walk just a little bit closer to his side, for no other reason than the feel of soft material on your arm and not the person wearing them.

Nodding, you said, "Sure."

Harry qucikly pressed the button when you reached the elevator, and you couldn't help but laugh a little. In the time you'd spent not getting to know him, you discovered that he was the kind of person that just had to press the elevator buttons. It didn't matter how many people he was with, it was like he took joy in something as simple as getting to press a button and watch it light up beneath his finger. He'd actually speed-walked to get ahead of you a couple times just so he could press the down button. It was kind of annoying, and perhaps a little childish, but you'd surprisingly grown to find it endearing. A quirk of Harry's that just made him who he was.

The ride down the elevator was quiet, and it wasn't until you were out on the street that he finally spoke. "I'm thinking about getting a pet."

You'd been bracing yourself for the inevitable questions about the song you'd been recording, and when they didn't come, your shoulders relaxed almost imperceptibly, though you were sure Harry noticed. "Really?"

"Yeah. All my friends are disgustingly in love," Harry said with a playful shudder. "I'm feeling like a third wheel most days, so I thought I would seek companionship of the furry variety. Wait, that came out wrong. I didn't mean—"

You chuckled at his stuttering, at the flush creeping up his neck and warming his cheeks. "I know what you mean," you said, sparing him any more embarrassment. "So what are you thinking then? Dog? Cat? Hamster?"

"Well, you see, that's the thing," he said, quickly recovering from his chagrin. "I'm not sure I have the time necessary to devote to training a puppy, but I'm also worried about getting a cat and it absolutely hating me, and..."

You listened as Harry explained in great detail the pros and cons of each kind of domestic animal one could have. He spoke animatedly with his hands, looking at you with those big green eyes of his, as if to make sure you were following his train of thought.

You never planned on befriending Harry, and even now you weren't sure that whatever was going on between you was considered a friendship. You'd always been the type to keep to yourself, especially after what happened with your ex. You'd not only lost him after the break up, but friends too, friends who thought that what you did to your ex was despicable and reprehensible and not worth keeping a friendship over, picking sides when you hadn't realized there were any. It hurt to lose so many people in one fell swoop, and you decided soon after that you were better off alone. Except for your brothers of course, but all of you kept so busy that it was hard to keep track of one another on a good day.

Outside of them, you realized it was hard to hurt someone when there was no one around you to hurt.

But Harry was different. You'd seen him around the building where you worked on your songs—in the hallways, waiting for the elevator (after pushing the button, of course), at the vending machine, on your way out of the studio or while he was entering it to start his session. The first thing you noticed was that he was never alone. Well, that wasn't entirely true. The first thing you really noticed was his smile, how it lit up his entire face and showcased the most adorable dimples you'd ever seen. But since you refused to admit that, the first thing you noticed was that he was never alone.

Harry was always coming and going with one or two or sometimes three people around him. He was always engaged in some kind of conversation, his head always turned as he listened aptly to what his friend was saying. It seemed so odd to you that he was hardly ever by himself. It was like a foreign language to you, and you imagined your constant solitude felt the same to him.

"Anytime you want to weigh in here would be great."

"If you want a pet, get one," you said simply.

Harry rolled his eyes as he held open the door to the coffee shop a couple blocks down the street from the building where you both worked, as if he was expecting anything other than your usual direct way of speaking. "If you don't keep this conversation going, then I'm going to have to ask about that incredibly depressing song you were working on, so please, indulge me in the great pet debate of twenty-eighteen."

For the most part, Harry was a pretty easy going guy. He had no problem carrying a conversation, and knew when not to pry. As the months went by, though, he knew how to get you to talk, how to find trap doors in the fortified walls you kept around yourself before you even knew they were there. It would be frustrating if his questions didn't always come with an endearing smile.

So you shrugged, eager to steer clear of any topics regarding your past. "I don't know, I'm a little biased. I've always been a dog person. Buddy's my best friend."

"First of all, I'm offended by the fact that I am not your best friend, and second, since when do you have a dog?"

The conversation paused while you and Harry went up to the counter to order you coffees. Both of you went there enough that the staff knew what you liked—dirty chai for you and an americano for him. It also meant you didn't have to deal with the barista having a mini-freak out at the realization that Harry Styles was in their coffee house. People tended to interrupt your conversations with Harry regularly—on the street, in line for coffee, at the table—but he never seemed bothered by it. He always smiled and indulged in a couple minutes of conversation and the occasional picture before waving goodbye. He always apologized to you afterward, but after the first couple times it happened, you waved him off. None of it was actually his fault, and seeing him interact with his fans became something you actually enjoyed watching. And it was perhaps a very small reminder as to why you preferred to just write songs for other artists, not perform them. You didn't need that kind of attention. For Harry, he seemed to come alive like a flower in bloom.

You? You would probably just wilt.

When you and Harry sat down with your drinks, he raised his brows for you to continue. Wrapping your hands around your cup, you shrugged again. "I've had Buddy for about a year now."

"What kind of dog?"

"Mostly pitbull, I think. I found him in an alley behind a restaurant once, and I know what shelters do to pitbulls, so I adopted him."

You'd come to think of the whole thing as Buddy finding you.

"And you named him Buddy?"

"Yeah, I don't know, after Buddy Holly I guess." You'd grown up listening to classic rock because your brothers did, and the name just kind of made sense to you. And he was just so cute, he was your little buddy. Big buddy now, you supposed. You thought he deserved the cutest name for the cutest boy in your life.

The rest of your time in the coffee house was filled with chatter, mostly from Harry. He talked a little more about the Great Pet Debate, then about the project he and his team was working on. An album, though they were only just getting started seeing as Harry just came back from tour. He tried peppering you with the occasional question, knowing if he asked too many you'd clam up and shut down. It was almost like Harry knew that you were fighting getting to know him, but that it wasn't just him, it was everyone. He was patient with you for some reason, though, seemingly content to chip away at the brick walls around you. Even if all he had was a spoon.

"So...What were you working on at the studio?" Harry finally asked.

You knew it was coming, so answering didn't seem so daunting. "I'm not really sure. The melody had been in my head for days, and I finally decided to play around with it."

"A perfect non-answer from Y/n L/n, everyone," Harry said, though you knew he was joking. His eyes were crinkled with mirth as he hid behind his cup, his brows raising to give you a knowing look.

Nothing about your past was easy to talk about, so you just didn't. After your breakup, you didn't even tell your brothers the finer details, not wanting to relive it or face all their questions. It all brought you an overwhelming sense of shame and despair. But maybe there had been something cathartic about your session today and it left you feeling lighter and open because you found yourself sharing more with Harry.

"It...reminded of me and my ex, so I kind of just let it all out. I'm not even sure what I was doing constituted as songwriting, but," you looked down at your mug. "The melody dredged up some old memories, I guess."

"It sounded painful," Harry said, his voice taking on a soft, sincere tone.

You knew he meant well, but the sympathy made you skittish. "It's fine. It was a long time ago."

"Right, of course," Harry said, catching on to your mood change. "Well, um, my friends and I are having a little get-together of sorts this Saturday. You should come."

"A party?"

"No. A get-together. Very different," Harry corrected.

It made sense, the last time Harry tried to invite you to a party his friend was throwing, you politely declined, claiming they weren't really your thing. They weren't, but it was more that having friends wasn't really your thing.

You wanted to say no again, but when you met Harry's eyes, something in you hesitated. His expression was open, earnest, like he would genuinely be upset if you said you wouldn't come. You didn't quite understand why he wanted to spend time with you so much. Maybe you felt a little bad for always pushing him away, or maybe you were actually warming up to him.

"I, um...that might be fun," you said, not sure if it was nerves or excitement swimming in your belly.

The way Harry's face lit up made saying you would come worth it.

After a few more minutes at the coffee house, you and Harry went your separate ways, but not before he made you promise to join you on one of your morning walks with Buddy Holly. Something must've been in the air today, because you found yourself nodding before heading down the street away from him.

On your way home, you got a phone call from your oldest brother Evan. "Hey, Evan. How's life treating you in the Big Apple?"

"Just fine. It'd be a lot better if I got to see my kid sister more often. Are you still coming for Thanksgiving?"

Of your three brothers, Evan was the one who checked up on you the most. Perhaps that was the nature of being the oldest of four, but he had always been the most responsible, the one to keep you and your other brothers in line. Well, mostly your other brothers. But Evan had always looked out for you. He was the only one you told at length about your breakup. You'd confided in him all your life, and he was coincidentally the only one of your brothers you could count on not to go and beat up on your ex or his family.

"Flight's booked and everything," you told him. "Not sure if I can swing a trip to the lake house, though."

Despite your less than ideal upbringing, you and your brothers had all done pretty well for yourselves. No thanks to your parents, seeing as you all shared a dad who never liked to be with the same woman twice. But you and your brothers all stuck together through thick and thin, supporting and celebrating and sticking together despite the differing parentage between the four of you. And now you were all scattered, your brothers Andrew and Hayden were professional athletes and Evan was a bigshot lawyer. Once you moved out of your hometown, you really only saw your brothers for holidays. And the occasional surprise visit from Andrew, though that hadn't happened in a while.

"That's okay," Evan said. "Next time."

"Next time," you agreed. Then, "How's the family?"

"Good. Sammy's gotten so big. And Laura's already showing."

You grinned as you imagined Evan's family. He deserved a happy ending with a loving family after raising you and the idiots you called brothers. "Another team member for the family football game."

"Speaking of the family football game," Evan said, and you mentally cursed yourself. "Laura's been dying to know if she should set an extra spot at the table."

Immediately, your mind went to Harry, but you quickly whisked that thought away. "Nope. Unless Hayden's got a new girlfriend."

"Really? No one?"

You narrowed your eyes even though Evan couldn't see your expression. "Why are you fishing? Gossip is Andy's thing."

"What? I'm not fishing!" Evan spluttered, but you just scoffed and waited. Evan might've been a shark in the courtroom, but he'd always been terrible at lying to you. "Fine. Laura was reading one of her gossip magazines, and you know I don't pay attention to those, but you know, I might have seen someone who looks an awful lot like you pictured alongside a former boy band member."

Well, shit. You knew that was a reality of being Harry's acquaintance, but you'd always done your best to not pay any attention to it. So far it had done a good job, but now it was coming to bite you in the ass.

"It's nothing, Evan. He's an artist. I'm a songwriter. We work in the same building," you said.

"Fine! Fine," Evan said, and you could just picture him holding his hands up in surrender the way he'd done since you were a teenager. "I just thought I'd ask now and try to soften the blow. I'll just leave you to the wolves."

"Damn you, Evan," you muttered. Evan was the easy brother. It was Andrew and Hayden you had to look out for. They would interrogate you relentlessly, or worse, squeeze the life out of you until you caved. Sighing deeply through your nose, you said, "I will ask if Harry has plans for that weekend. And that is it."

"See? That wasn't so hard!"

You rolled your eyes. "I'll talk to you later."

"You love me!" Evan called just before hanging up.

The call ended just as you pulled up to your apartment. You sat back with a huff, marveling at the strings your brother managed to pull from thousands of miles away. But deep down, you knew Evan was just looking out for you. After everything that happened eighteen months ago, he'd been keeping a close eye. As close an eye as he could all the way from New York. But that was how things worked between you and your brothers. You all looked out for each other, and your older brothers acted as personal security guards to any and everyone who so much as looked at you the wrong way. It was both endearing and very annoying.

Very annoying. Now you had to invite Harry to Thanksgiving. Evan was so going to get it.

*.*

On Saturday, you found yourself standing in front of your mirror longer than you normally would've. Harry had used the term "get-together" as a means to ease your nerves, but now that the dreaded day had come, you realized you weren't sure what that meant in terms of dress code. Was this thing laid-back? What if casual still meant dressy to Harry and his friends? Harry usually walked around the studio in jeans and faded t-shirts, but he was still a celebrity. He could see this as an opportunity to dress up.

You looked at all the clothes spread out in your room. You'd changed an embarrassing amount of times now, but nothing seemed fitting for the occasion. I could always text him, you thought, biting your nail as you surveyed the tornado of clothes around you. Harry had given you your number earlier this week so he could text you his address. You hadn't wanted to, as it would open the flood gates for conversation outside the studio, but you eventually gave it up when he stared blankly at you after offering your email as an alternative.

Before you could think too long about it, you picked up your phone and sent a quick text. Before you even had a chance to set it down, Harry sent a reply.

Harry S: We're just chilling at my house. Dress as comfortably as you'd like :))

Well, that wasn't helpful at all, you thought, but didn't say to Harry. You went back to rummaging through your pile of clothes, creating a spot for Buddy when he ambled into your bedroom from the kitchen. In the end, you settled on something simple: jeans, platform shoes, and a colorful fleece jacket over a plain shirt. It felt silly to have wasted so much time on your wardrobe when all you were doing was going to see Harry. And his friends. And that was...intimidating.

The anxiety of meeting Harry's friends, of meeting anyone new, crept through you. You didn't want to go and face the inevitability of disappointing them. Your track record with friends was pretty abysmal. But you found yourself kissing Buddy's head and promising you wouldn't be gone long, and then you were getting in your car and plugging in the address Harry had given you.

The music playing in your car calmed you some. Etta James' voice was both familiar and comfortable, welcome feelings as you pulled up to Harry's house. House was a bit of an understatement, though. Maybe a villa, or an estate. The LA version of those sprawling castles that were all over Europe. Your shoulders were tense as you cruised up the long driveway, though your anxiety eased a bit when you saw that had seen about as much life and mileage parked up front as yours did.

Music was playing inside the house, you could hear the trill of soft guitar and the low hum of a male voice from outside, and you worried if anyone would be able to hear you as you knocked on the door. Thankfully, you only stood on Harry's doorstep for a minute or two, then Harry's familiar grin greeted you.

"You made it!" Harry said, pulling you over the threshold and in for a quick side hug. He looked down at you for a moment, his cheeks flushed and green eyes bright, perhaps from drinking. He shook his head a little before pulling you further into the house. "Come in, come in, everyone is just through here."

Harry led you further into his home, giving you a chance to look around. Despite the grandeur of the outside, Harry's house was actually quite cozy and inviting. Everything was in warm tones, and potted plants and bookshelves piled high with a mix of books and records with titles you couldn't read from this distance. His house looked actually lived in, which couldn't be said for some of the other celebrity homes you'd been in. It didn't happen often as you preferred to work alone, but you occasionally dabbled in writing sessions with other artists. Their homes looked much more modern, and much more cold, than Harry's did.

"My home in London is much smaller," Harry said, noticing your craned neck. Then he shrugged, looking a little sheepish. "But I liked the look of this place. It reminded me of a house I go to in Italy most summers."

"It's beautiful," you said. "I've always wanted to go to Italy."

"You've never been?"

You shook your head, admiring the arch leading into an open kitchen. "I was supposed to go for—"

For my birthday, you couldn't bring yourself to say. Gavin had planned a summer trip to Italy for your birthday, but that never happened. You surprised yourself by revealing that much, and by the way Harry's eyes lit up, you'd taken him by surprise too.

But he didn't press you to finish your thought. He just smiled and led you further into the kitchen. "Come on. You need a drink."

Harry talked while he fixed up your drink. He'd tried to persuade you to take a shot of tequila with him, his eyebrows wiggling up and down, a look on his face that you'd seen one too many times on your brothers when they were trying to stir up trouble. You declined with a laugh, opting for a glass of wine instead. Maybe a boring choice, Harry definitely thought so as he teased by saying, "Booooring!" but you needed to be sharp, and tequila tended to have the opposite effect, so red wine it was.

"Everyone's through here. I hope you like games because Kid brought a new one over and everyone has become quite invested."

Games? Is that what Harry Styles did on his evenings off? Play board games with his friends? Before you could ask, Harry led you into his living room, where everyone was in fact sitting around a rather spacious coffee table, a board game and playing cards spread out around it. It was a small group of about five or six. For some reason you expected more people, even though Harry said otherwise. They were all talking amongst themselves, talking strategy, you presumed, as you recognized the game as one of those territory-winning ones.

All the talking stopped, however, when Harry introduced you to the group.

You felt their eyes on you, judging, picking you apart where you stood. You began to curl in on yourself, wilting at the attention. Involuntarily, you took a step back, but Harry's hand was on your lower back, warm and comforting against you. You should've pulled away, but you didn't, thankful for at least some kind of familiarity among all the new.

It had been so long since you'd had to meet new people in a non-professional setting. You'd met with producers and artists and other industry people all the time, but there was always a wall of professionalism between you and them. You knew how to navigate that space with ease, but here, where people were sitting on pillows and holding playing cards, where you stood as the outlier among what was clearly a tight-knit group, you felt very much like a fish out of water. A fish in space.

"H—Hello," you managed to say, giving everyone a small wave.

One person got up. A young woman with short brown hair, winged eyeliner marking the corners of her eyes. Her smile was surprisingly warm, but what had your eyes widening even more was when she pulled you in for a hug, squeezing tight.

"I'm Sylvia," she said. "It's so nice to finally meet you."

"Finally?"

You probably shouldn't have said that, but you weren't expecting such a warm welcome.

"Harry talks about you constantly. I swear sometimes he purposely keeps you from us."

"That is not—That is not true," Harry said, speaking to you for a moment. He sounded serious, but his eyes were filled with amusement as if he was used to Sylvia's teasing.

Everyone else introduced themselves, and you tried to keep a smile on your face as you committed their names to memory. They were all part of Harry's "team" except for Sylvia—writers, producers, musicians. "And you?" you asked her as she pulled you down to sit next to her. Sylvia had insisted you be on her team while you learned how to play. She seemed nice, eager to get to know you, but you didn't trust it. Not yet.

"I'm a full-time mom most days, and a part-time life coach to this one," Sylvia joked. She seemed too young to be a mother, but you supposed they came in all shapes and sizes. "But I'm Harry's nutritionist. And friend when he's not being a pain in the ass."

There was a wry grin on the young woman's face that told you she was fond of Harry, and fond of teasing him, if said grin grew when Harry said, "Hey," was anything to go by. It eased your mind a bit, her kindness and obvious fondness for Harry. She spoke animatedly as she caught you up on the rules of the game and gossip from her yoga class. "They're all in love with that one, of course. Can't take him anywhere," she said with a nod in Harry's direction.

When you agreed to join Harry tonight, you figured you would spend your time with him. But Sylvia kept you occupied most of the evening, and he and his friends were rather invested in the game. You were content to watch, enjoying the playful bickering and shouts of surprise and celebration. It was interesting to see how they all interacted with each other. Harry and his friends sat and drank around his coffee table while you nursed your drink, observing with the sweet feeling of nostalgia swimming through your veins.

"Y/n?"

You jumped in your spot on the floor, your wine sloshing around in your glass a little. Thankfully, nothing poured out. You would've been mortified if you'd spilled red wine all over Harry's most likely exorbitantly expensive carpet.

Eyes flicking to a man with short blond hair, you said, "Sorry?"

Kid, you were pretty sure his name was, asked his question again. "Did you first start writing here in LA?"

"Uh...no. Nashville, actually," you said. "I lived in Nashville for a while before moving out here. But I...grew up in a small town just outside."

"You never told me that," Harry said, sounding both intrigued and a little hurt that you'd never shared that with him before.

Emboldened by your near-empty glass, you said, "You never asked."

That earned a few chuckles and a raised brow from Harry as if he'd just accepted a challenge you hadn't meant to create. But you read that look in his eyes with ease. Any look was quite easy to read from Harry. He was expressive, an open book. He was going to take this as an opportunity to ask you all the questions he'd been witholding.

Throwing back the rest of your wine, you avoided his eye and ignored the excited flip in your belly.

*.*

If it wasn't for your dog, you were pretty sure you wouldn't be able to keep up with Harry Styles and his impossibly long gait.

He'd kept to his word, insisting that he join you on one of your walks with Buddy Holly. It wasn't until a few days after you went to his house for the first time, but one morning before you usually headed into the studio, he texted and asked if he could join you for your morning walk with your dog. It took some convincing, which really only meant a series of uninterrupted texts until you finally relented.

Buddy took to Harry immediately, of course, though that wasn't a surprise, seeing as your dog was friendly with everyone. But it meant a lot to you that he seemed to like Harry so much. Buddy was a rescue, and you couldn't imagine the awful things he'd been through before you'd given him a proper home.

Now he walked on the sidewalk excitedly, pulling you on his leash as his stubby tail waved around wildly. Harry walked beside you, his curly hair pulled back with a little black claw clip, some of it sticking up in a cute tuft. As he walked beside you, you took the opportunity to study him. There was a little scruff on his cheeks and jaw, creeping down the nape of his neck. His jaw was strong and angular, his cheekbones sharp. Harry really was beautiful. You understood why so many people went so crazy for him.

"See anything you like?"

Warmth flushed your cheeks as you quickly looked ahead, even if the damage was already done. Harry rarely, if ever, caught you staring at him, mostly because it didn't happen often. But in the last few weeks, you'd found yourself admiring him more and more. The movements he made with his hand as he told a story, the mischievous glint in his eye when he made you laugh, the way his arms moved beneath his shirt, how his lips curled around a smile. You cataloged each mannerism, each vocal inflection, and after just a few weeks following that night at his house with his friends, you felt like you knew him quite well.

Shrugging, you feigned nonchalance as your eyes darted back to Buddy, who had stopped to sniff a tree.

You could feel Harry's gaze on you, but you tried not to squirm. His gaze pricked your skin, making you feel things you absolutely shouldn't have been feeling. It was uncomfortable and exhilarating, and you didn't like how much you were warming up to him.

Used to your wordless answers, Harry moved on. "You're making me rethink my decision to get a cat."

"You decided, then?"

"I think I'm more of cat person," Harry said. "Well that, and I think I've found the one, but I'm worried about all the traveling."

"It can stay with me," you said, eyes widening when you did. But it was true, you realized. You were close enough to Harry to promise that kind of thing.

"Well, in that case," Harry said, and you finally looked over to him.

His grin was wide as he looked down at you, and though you couldn't see his eyes behind his sunglasses, you knew they were more than likely squinted with mirth. You liked that smile, you realized. It was uninhibited, full of warmth and good intentions. You wanted to trust it, to give in to the friendship Harry was offering.

But you couldn't. Harry didn't deserve the abysmal companionship you offered in return, and you felt bad for leading him along when you knew you'd eventually fuck things up. You always did.

Your phone buzzing thankfully pulled you away from your thoughts. Looking at it, you saw a text from your brother, Hayden. You think Laura will be cool with a few football players in her house for Thanksgiving? it said, and you shook your head as you typed a quick reply, a small grin spreading across your face.

Hayden was only going to be in town the day of Thanksgiving, as he had a game the day after. You didn't think he would make it at all, seeing how full his schedule usually was, but he managed to squeeze it in. Apparently his game wasn't too far from Evan's house. As long as he, and his teammates now, didn't drink too much, they would be just fine.

You: I don't think so. Laura might put y'all to work around the house though.

Hayden: Seems fair.

Hayden: Are YOU bringing anyone home?

Hayden: Because I can sit you next to one of my teammates.

Hayden: I take that back. Forget I said that. No teammate of mine is going near my sister.

Rolling your eyes, you stuffed your phone in your back pocket. Harry was looking at you with a curious gaze, and you scrambled to explain yourself. "My brother," you said. "Apparently he's inviting some of his football buddies to Thanksgiving this year."

"Does he play at university?" Harry asked. You could almost hear the eagerness in his voice at the opportunity to learn more about you, and while sharing in general made you squirm, your brothers were fairly easy to talk about.

"He did. He's in the NFL now."

"Oh nice You must be—Wait what's his name?"

"Hayden?"

Harry stopped walking for a moment. When you tried to stop too, Buddy protested, tugging the leash, and the wrist you had wrapped around it pulled uncomfortably. Murmuring a quick apology, Harry kept walking, keeping pace with your energetic puppy.

"Your brother is Hayden L/n?"

You nodded. "I'm guessing you've heard of him then?"

A bark of laughter slipped from Harry's lips. You'd never seen him so caught off guard before. It was strange, but also a relief to know that someone as steady as Harry wasn't so unflappable all the time.

Rubbing a hand over his mouth, he said, "I think everyone has heard of him. Any other famous brothers I should know about?"

"I don't know how you quantify fame, but my other brother is in the NHL. He plays for a team on the east coast."

Andrew was the youngest of your family. Despite that, he still considered himself your older brother, which had always been annoying growing up, especially when you were taller than him for a few years. He was rather sweet for someone so aggressive on the ice. He spent a lot of time with his mom, but was still close to you, Evan, and Hayden. It was hard not to be when you all shared the same deadbeat dad.

Outside of Evan, you probably talked to Andrew the most. You were the closest in age and grew up going to school together, and while his main focus was hockey, whenever he was in town, he'd go with you to concerts to see whatever indie band you were into or treat you to tickets to a show at the arena he played for.

"You have a third, right?" Harry asked, and you weren't even surprised that he remembered even though you were sure you'd only mentioned it once or twice.

"Evan. He's a lawyer in New York, but he lives in Connecticut with his wife and daughter," you said.

Now would be the perfect opportunity to invite Harry to Thanksgiving. You were looping back around on the trail, heading back to the park entrance where you'd met Harry this morning. Evan would pester you about it until you did, or worse, get Hayden and Andrew involved. You just had to throw it out there, be as casual as possible. Easy. You were all about being casual.

"So, um, he—Evan—he, um, said if I wanted I could invite a friend to Thanksgiving. If I wanted to."

"Oh yeah?" You weren't looking at him, but you could hear the grin in his voice.

Swallowing thickly as you willed your cheeks not to flush, you continued to look at Buddy as you spoke. "You probably already have plans, but I just thought I would ask if you wanted to come. Laura, Evan's wife, is a great cook, and it's usually pretty low-key until football gets turned on. But no offensive aunts or uncles or anything like that. Just us."

That was definitely too many words, but the amused look in Harry's eyes didn't feel antagonizing. "I would love to, but um, I already promised my mum I would go home that week."

"Oh." You didn't mean to sound disappointed. It was a good thing that Harry was going home to see his mother. And him meeting your brothers for the first time all at once probably would've scared him out of talking to you in the studio, so really it was for the best. It was for the best. "That's okay. You must be excited to go home. How long has it been?"

"London? Not too long, but I'm headed back to Manchester, and my mum has not been shy in letting me know that it's been too long since..."

You listened to Harry the rest of the walk back, trying to fight off the disappointment gnawing inside you that he'd said no. You didn't want that feeling in you. You wanted to be indifferent. It's for the best. You repeated it over and over until you convinced yourself it was true.

*.*

"You had a speech, you're speechless. Love slipped beyond your reaches. And I couldn't give a reason, Champagne problems."

You scribbled in your notebook, crossing out words from the original recording and replacing them with better ones. You hadn't planned to go back to this song. After recording it on your phone, you figured it wouldn't see the light of day again. But something kept bringing you back to it. So you worked on it between other projects, playing around with the lyrics and melody in small doses so that the past wouldn't overwhelm you.

Guilt seeped into your bones as you recalled what happened eighteen, almost nineteen, months ago. Sometimes you wished you could forget everything you'd done, but other times you decided being forced to remember was part of your penance for causing so much pain. Gavin was a good man. He was so kind and so smart, he didn't have a cruel bone in his body. And you'd taken his goodness, you'd welcomed all his kindness, and crushed it in your hands.

Wiping away a tear, you shut your notebook definitively. Your session in the studio was far from over, but you were done for the day.

On your way out, you kept your head down, not wanting anyone to see your watery eyes. You could feel the tears building, and you hoped you could at least make it to your car before you turned into a mess. It was so hard sometimes. Some days you felt great. You would write good songs, take Buddy for a walk and teach him a new trick, you would get coffee with Harry and laugh, and everything would be fine. But then there were days where the mere thought of the past sent you careening off course, leaving you with nothing but the intrusive thoughts you thought you'd learned how to keep at bay.

Today happened to be one of those days, and you hoped you could escape and wallow in self-pity unnoticed. But before you could even make it to the elevator, you bumped into something solid and warm. Arms wrapped around you to hold you steady before you could spring back, and against your better judgment, you looked up, an apology poised on your lips.

"Y/n, are you okay? What's wrong?"

You should've known that you would be unlucky enough to run into Harry on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Blinking rapidly, you shook your head and stepped out of his grasp, though that didn't make you feel any better. "I'm fine."

"You can talk to me," Harry insisted. His brows furrowed with concern, but he didn't come any closer. There was a bag slung over his shoulder and a hat covering up his hair, with only a few stray curls sticking out beneath it. He looked like he was just going into the studio for a session.

"I'm fine, I promise," you lied, not wanting to be the reason he was late for studio time. "I'm just leaving for the day."

You tried to step around Harry, but his hands fell down on your shoulders. His gaze burned, but you couldn't make yourself look him in the eye. You knew the moment you saw the sympathy swimming in them you'd burst into tears.

"Please let me go," you said, but it came out as more of a squeak, your voice breaking on the last word.

To your surprise, Harry did, and even though that was what you'd asked for, what you wanted, you somehow felt worse. Shuffling around him, you mumbled a quick goodbye and bypassed the elevator, not wanting to wait awkwardly for it to come up while he was still in the hall. It wasn't until you finally got in your car that you let everything out, all the guilt and loneliness and self-loathing that you kept bottled up regularly.

So often you were able to pretend the past didn't exist. But then there were days where you were almost slapped in the face by the consequences of your actions. Negative thoughts followed you all the way home and into your bed. Not even hiding under the covers kept you from feeling everything all at once. Your mind spun as you thought of Gavin, of his elated grin crumpling into a look of betrayal as you told him you were ending it.

You remembered every detail from that night. The brand of Champagne Gavin bought for the would-be occasion, the woodsy cologne he wore, the looks on his friends' and family's faces as you hurried down the stairs to leave the party, unable to bear their shame and disapproval, or the heart you'd broken on the landing in his family's mansion.

You didn't know he was going to propose until mere moments before it happened. You had only been seeing Gavin for a few months, and things were good. He made you happy, and you liked having someone to go through life with. He liked to shower you with expensive gifts, for no other reason than to show you he cared and because he could. You didn't have the same kind of wealth he or his family did, not even with the substantial amount of money you made as a successful songwriter. But you'd write him poems and leave them places you knew he'd find them and looped your arm through his at company parties. Things were good.

Every year, Gavin's family hosted a Christmas party, and last year was the first time you'd been invited. You hadn't wanted to go, mostly because in the two weeks leading up to the party, you realized you weren't in the same place Gavin was emotionally, and you weren't sure you ever would be. But Gavin insisted, promising it would be fun and he wouldn't abandon you to his family, who had been nothing but cold since the moment he'd introduced them to you. So you went, sipping on Champagne in a glass made of crystal and wondering if the guilty pit at the bottom of your stomach would ever stop growing.

It was a couple hours into the party when you'd stumbled on a conversation between Gavin's mother and sister, one that made your blood run cold with dread.

"Did Gav really ask you for your ring?" his sister asked.

His mother nodded gravely. "He wants to do it tonight."

"What? That's ridiculous! They've barely been together a year!"

"I'm sure she would make a lovely bride, she's beautiful, I'll give her that," his mother conceded, but you could hear the disdain in her voice loud and clear. "It's just a shame that she's—"

"Fucked in the head?"

"Larissa! Language!"

"What? She is! She's a total basket case, and everyone can see it but him. She'll never make him happy. How could she? Putting a ring on it doesn't change a thing. Gavin would have a psych patient, not a wife. He deserves better."

The rest of the night was a blur, but you knew you couldn't wait. You didn't want to break up with Gavin on the night of his family's Christmas party, but if he was going to propose, you couldn't let him. The hurt would be so much worse if you had to slide the ring off your finger a week or two after the proposal.

Gavin called you for weeks afterward, begging you to help him understand. His family did too, and his friends, people you considered friends as well, but it was clear once there was a line drawn in the sand where everyone stood, and they didn't have any trouble letting you know how horrible you were for doing what you did. Sometimes when you let yourself get angry, you wondered why Gavin's mother and sister, or any of them really, were so aggressive about your break up. They'd never wanted you to be with him in the first place, and even though they'd gotten their wish, they still called you a heartless monster.

But above all that, Gavin's messages made the deepest cut. He sounded so devastated in each voicemail. And at first, all he wanted was to talk, to somehow work it all out as if it was one big misunderstanding. I know my family can be a lot, but I love you so much, he'd said in a text. We can go to Italy like we'd planned. Elope. Buy a little cottage and just start a new life somewhere else. Please, Y/n. Talk to me. I love you.

Messages like those were the toughest pills to swallow. You knew Gavin loved you, you never doubted that for a moment. The problem was you didn't feel the same. You didn't know why. You cared for Gavin a lot, and in the beginning, you had all those giddy, initial relationship feelings, but they never developed beyond that. And when you noticed Gavin's feelings growing more and more each day while yours didn't, you started to panic.

But it was when those messages turned angry, hateful even, that hurt the most. It was what you deserved after what you'd done, but to know that you'd turned one of the gentlest souls you knew into a spiteful one killed you almost as much as stopping him from getting down on one knee had.

In the midst of all your crying and hyperventilating, your phone buzzed. Wiping your eyes and nose, you lifted your phone to your face, squinting at the bright light.

Harry S: I know you probably want space, but I'm here for you xx

You shouldn't be, was your first thought, but all you texted back was, Just a bad day that's all.

Harry's response was almost immediate, as if he was waiting around for your reply.

Harry S: Well, if you ever need a friend, you know where to find me :))

You sighed, feeling another wave of tears overwhelm you. The pressure of friendship weighed heavily on your chest. All you could offer was disappointment, and you couldn't stomach the thought of letting someone like Harry down. He was too good a person to be your friend. All you could offer him was disappointment and pain. You were toxic, and better off left alone.

You: We're not friends. I don't want to be your friend so just leave me alone.

*.*

Weeks went by and you were positively miserable. Thanksgiving came and went, and even your brothers could sense not to pry about your sour mood. Evan tried to get you alone, but you didn't want to talk. You didn't want to explain how you'd fucked things up so royally. Again. You didn't want his sympathy, or Hayden's promise to fight anyone who hurt you, or Andrew's cheesy jokes to lift your spirits. What you wanted had been all the way in England and had been giving you the cold shoulder. Just like you'd asked.

Harry stopped saying hi to you at the studio, which hurt more than you thought it would. In the grand scheme of things, you hadn't known him very long, but seeing him in the hallway and watching him purposely avoid you felt awful. You only had yourself to blame, but you thought it was better to let him down early on than further down the line. You couldn't have another Gavin situation on your hands.

But this felt entirely different. Even though you'd only spoken to Harry for a month, his absence from your life was more poignant than you expected it to be. When you ended things with Gavin, you felt guilty for hurting him, but ultimately, there was a sense of relief that you weren't leading him on, that crushing weight of his family's disapproval on your chest lifted. Breaking up with Gavin was hard, but it was the right thing to do for you, there was no doubt in your mind about that.

But this thing with Harry...you'd pushed him away when you were feeling vulnerable. A preemptive measure for the both of you, but there was no relief, no justifiable sense of rightness in your gut in the days following.

Part of you wanted to reach out to him and apologize, but you worried he hated you now and didn't know how to bridge the gap you created between the two of you.

Opportunity struck when you overheard a conversation between Harry and...Mitch. you were pretty sure that was Mitch from that night at Harry's house. It was about a week after you came back from your brother's house, and all three of them were constantly calling or texting despite their busy schedules. You wouldn't have put it past any of them to have set up times to routinely check in on you. It warmed your heart some, but nothing would feel right until you fixed things with Harry. Pushing him away had been a mistake, you saw that now. You'd done it in a moment when you were at your lowest, and that wasn't fair to either of you.

"I'm sorry, mate," Harry said to Mitch. "I didn't even think to ask if you were allergic before adopting a cat. I feel like an idiot now."

So he went ahead with his plan to get a pet, then. The thought made you smile, but you held it in. You were pressed into the corner of the elevator up to the studio. Harry was definitely aware of your presence, but he hadn't acknowledged you. Mitch gave you an awkward wave, but that was somehow worse.

"No worries, man," Mitch said now, stepping out of the elevator with Harry. He was in a white t-shirt and a light brown cardigan today, his curly brown hair looking beautifully windswept. You refused to think about the current state of your hair, which was hiding beneath a blue baseball cap. "I'll just have to—"

You never found out what Mitch would have to do because they rounded a corner of the hallway, leaving you alone outside the elevator. Quickly scurrying into your usual studio, you sat down at the grand piano, letting the smooth keys cool your sweaty palms. You felt breathless, but it wasn't the usual anxiety-ridden breathlessness you were used to. This felt different, your heart speeding up at the thought of Harry's broad shoulders beneath his sweater.

"Pull yourself together, Y/n," you told yourself.

The damage was done—once again, at your hands, but you couldn't help that right this second. Right now you had work to do.

The next day, you did something you didn't normally do—venture outside of your studio. Since working in the building, you'd never thought to explore the other rooms, to introduce yourself or make friends the way Harry had with you. As you walked down the long hallway of closed and half-open doors, you wondered who was behind them, what kind of projects were being worked on right now.

Most importantly, you wanted to know which door Harry sat behind.

After a day of writing, of trying to lean into more positive feelings, the small hope you had for a brighter future. You left the studio feeling lighter after another introspective session. There'll be happiness after you, but there was happiness because of you, both of these things can be true, you'd written, forming your thoughts around a melody that was both somber and hopeful. That moment when you'd pushed Harry away was the lowest you'd felt in a while, but you didn't want to feel that way anymore. All Harry had been asking for was friendship. You could do friendship, in fact, you craved it.

So now you were trying to make things right with Harry, or at least apologize for your rude text. He'd only ever been incredibly kind to you, and you'd treated him like garbage.

You came across a door that was partially open, laughter filtering out and reaching you in the hallway. Harry's voice was mixed among them, and hearing him laugh filled you with butterflies. Going to his studio suddenly felt like a mistake. You didn't want to bring down his mood, especially if it would affect his writing for the day.

But you finally worked up the courage to knock on the open door. You'd already made it this far. The knock immediately sobered up everyone inside the studio, and you waited outside with your gift bag clutched in your hands. One of Harry's friends appeared, eyes widening when he saw you there.

"Y/n," he said. "It's good to see you."

You couldn't tell if he was pleased to see you or not, and nerves slowly began to creep in.

"I—I won't take up too much of your time, I know y'all are probably busy," you said. "I just, um, could you give this to Harry, please?"

You shoved the bag in the man's direction, forcing him to take it. "You can come in. He's just inside—"

"No, it's okay. I should probably get back to it. So, uh, see you."

You turned and fled, heat flooding your cheeks. Honestly, you were surprised you made it that far. You figured your courage would fizzle out before knocking on the studio door.

Settling back in your studio, you pulled out your journal and phone out of your bag, and opened up to a fresh page to work on a new song. On the way into work this morning, your agent pitched you an opportunity to write for an up-and-coming artist. "Something light, Y/n," she'd said, knowing you'd been writing mostly sad, break-up songs recently. "If it doesn't work out, then it doesn't work out, but at least try. You've always liked to challenge yourself."

So you were putting away the Champagne problems for now and channeling your happiest thoughts. You even brought your computer to stream romantic comedies while you worked for some additional inspiration.

You were halfway through When Harry met Sally when that inspiration finally struck. Lighter, happier words finally filled your journal, a rare, but not completely uncommon occurrence. You'd written love songs in the past, both before and while you were with Gavin. But surprisingly, Gavin wasn't who came to mind, nor was it the characters in the movie on your computer.

You thought of Harry's smile, his flushed cheeks after he'd had a couple drinks, his green eyes that seemed to sparkle when he laughed. Did you have a crush on him? You weren't entirely sure, maybe you just admired his goodness. And, okay fine, his unfair amount of good looks too. But you tried not to focus too long on who exactly inspired you, just on making sure the words kept flowing onto the page.

Perhaps you should've expected Harry to stop by, but you hadn't. His voice startled you, your eyes having been glued to the screen of your computer as the final scene of Roman Holiday played out in front of you. It had always been one of your favorites, and you decided that a brain break was needed as the final third of the film rolled around.

"What's this?"

No matter how many times you'd seen it, the ending never failed to bring tears to your eyes. Seeing the glisten of tears in Gregory Peck's eyes as he stared longingly at Audrey Hepburn's, knowing they loved each other but could never be together was heartbreaking. It had been the most tragic thing you'd ever experienced when you first watched it as a girl, and it hadn't even happened to you.

It was those tears now that you wiped away, a warmth creeping up your cheeks because this was the second time Harry had caught you crying. How embarrassing.

Looking up, you saw the gift bag in one hand, the other in his pocket as he stared at you blankly. No warmth or his usual smile, but he wasn't glaring at you, either. He just looked indifferent, and that didn't sit well with you at all.

"I...I overheard you and Mitch talking about your cat and his allergies, and I'd heard of this stuff that you can use on your pets to help people who are allergic to animals."

You'd gone out and bought it after leaving the studio the day you'd overheard the conversation between Mitch and Harry. It was your version of an olive branch, a way to express your guilt after taking Harry's friendship and throwing it in his face. You were his friend, and you wanted him to know it.

It probably seemed silly to hide behind a gift instead of saying something, considering your profession. But confrontation was almost as terrifying as love was, it was part of the reason why you only wrote songs and didn't perform them.

Harry scoffed, and it looked like he couldn't decide between laughing or rolling his eyes. "No, I know what this is, I'm asking why you gave it to me. Or not me, to my friend and then scurried back over here."

"I'm sorry about that, about everything," you said, shutting your laptop and shifting in your chair. "I was...I haven't been in the best place for some time now. It's not an excuse for how I treated you that day. You caught me in a bad moment and I lashed out."

"Thank you for apologizing," he said, his voice cool and even. You desperately wanted to know what he was thinking. What he saw when he looked at you. "Do you want to grab coffee? Maybe we can talk?"

The thought of being open and honest in the way that he was suggesting was daunting, but Harry deserved your honesty. "Sure. Let me just pack up my things."

Harry waited for you by the door as you packed your bag, jotting a couple notes down in your journal before putting it away. Your hands shook a little as you approached him, excitement swelling in your belly despite the anxiety you felt at the prospect of having to talk about things you preferred to leave in the recesses of your mind. But it felt good to see Harry again, to walk beside him and head to your favorite coffee house.

Neither of you said anything on the short walk over, and even after you placed your orders, you remained quiet. When your name was called out alongside Harry's to grab your drinks, you knew it was time to find a table, but you stayed rooted to your spot in front of the counter.

It was Larissa. Gavin's sister. She was standing next to the other end of the counter where baristas called out and dropped off orders. There was a moment when she didn't see you, and you thought you could make a break for it, even if that meant leaving Harry high and dry. But even if you wanted to, you were frozen in place, and when Larissa's gaze finally landed on you, you felt her glare even from a short distance.

"Y/n?" Harry asked, both drinks in his hands. "What's—"

"Y/n! How good to see you!"

Larissa's kind smile was anything but. You'd never trusted Gavin's sister. From the moment you met her, you knew to be wary of her, and after everything that happened, you were sure nothing good was going to come out of this interaction.

"H—Hi, Larissa. How are you?" you said, trying your best not to look at Harry, who had a quizzical look on his face.

"Oh, I'm just fabulous. I've just spent the last year healing my brother's broken heart, which you broke like it was nothing," Larissa said. "He's great, by the way. Finally came to his senses and realized what a God-awful mess you were. He realized all of us were better off without you."

Then, before you could even make sense of what was happening, a rush of cold washed over you. At first, you thought it was merely a visceral reaction to the confrontation, but Harry's, "What the fuck?" made you think twice.

Looking down, you realized Larissa had poured her drink on your sweater. Shock left you blinking at Gavin's sister, tears welling in your eyes. With shaking hands, you held the ruined sweater in your hands, then back to Larissa. "Wh—Why—"

"That's for my brother, slut."

"That's enough," Harry said, voice harder and colder than you'd ever heard him before. Even when he was upset with you at the studio, he never sounded this angry. Gently gripping your elbow, he turned you around. You hardly noticed the flashing of cameras aimed in your direction. All you could really process was Larissa's smirk and the iced coffee dripping off you onto the coffee house's floor.

When you were finally outside and a block down the road, Harry pulled you down an alley where you could have a moment of privacy. He pulled his sweater over his head and offered it to you in a bundle. You quietly murmured your thanks and took it from him, slipping it over your head. The plain black sweater was warm and smelled like him—like laundry detergent and expensive cologne. It would've been the kind of thing to flood your senses if shame hadn't currently encompassed every fiber of your being.

"I'm sorry you had to see that," you said when you felt like you could speak without your voice trembling.

"You don't have to apologize for what happened, Y/n," Harry said. He gently rested his hand on your shoulder. "Are you okay?"

"I think so."

You couldn't look him in the eye, not while your iced coffee-ridden sweater was now ruining his, not while he kept looking at you with such pity. You could feel it down to your toes, and it made you want to curl up in a ball and never get out of bed. But Harry deserved an explanation. At the very least, he deserved to know who he associated himself with.

"I should explain—"

"You don't have to," Harry insisted.

"I want to," you said, believing the words as you said them. You weren't sure what you would've done if Harry hadn't been with you a few minutes ago. His brows were still furrowed with concern, his thumb rubbing circles into your shoulder. His sweater layered over yours created a pretty thick barrier, but you could feel his touch as if he was caressing your skin. "We can, um, we can go back to my place."

Thankfully, Harry didn't protest, just nodded quietly. The walk back to the studio was completely silent, leaving you alone with your thoughts until it was time to part ways. He got in his car and followed you home, silently following you up the steps to your apartment, a comfortable little one-bedroom twenty minutes from the studio.

Buddy was at the door when you unlocked it, tail wagging and tongue lolling to the side of his mouth happily. He greeted you first, then Harry, who he tried with all his might to knock over by getting up on his hind legs and resting on your guest. "Buddy! Down!" you hissed, frantically holding onto your dog's collar. Harry laughed and waived you off, surprising you by lifting Buddy up into his arms. Both boys were perfectly content, and the image of your friend holding your dog in your apartment was enough to lift your spirits the tiniest bit. A small smile crept onto your face, and Harry's grin widened when he saw it.

"Nice place," Harry commented, spinning around in a slow circle as he looked around.

"Thanks." Your apartment was small, but it was in a nice neighborhood and close to the beach. You made just enough in royalties to be comfortable in a little one bedroom. "Definitely different from my place in Nashville."

Harry nodded mildly before setting Buddy back down on the floor, admiring the colorful furniture that took up the space in your living room. Shivering a little, you looked down at yourself, reminded of your coffee-soaked clothes.

"There are treats in the pantry," you said, setting your things down on the kitchen counter and nodding to the pantry in question. "I'm just going to get changed so I can wash your sweater."

Harry nodded, but he seemed content to play with Buddy and look around your apartment, and your dog seemed perfectly happy to never walk on four legs ever again.

You tried to make quick work of changing, not wanting to keep Harry waiting too long. But you gave yourself a minute or two to calm down and process everything that had happened in the last hour. Even though it was horribly embarrassing, you were glad Harry had been there. He'd been a calming presence throughout, and you could only hope that would continue as you explained why you'd pushed him away.

*.*

"I...I didn't want to hurt you," you said, looking down at where your hands were knotted in your lap. "I just...I don't have a very good track record with relationships. Of any kind. I didn't want you to be one of the people I ruined."

Harry had been surprisingly quiet while you explained everything. And by everything, you meant everything. From Gavin to the Christmas party and what you'd heard to the would-be proposal. You told him about that song you'd written a couple weeks ago and how it brought all that emotion to the forefront of your memory and that it led you to push Harry away. He hadn't said much, asking you a few questions here and there; but for the most part, he let you speak uninterrupted, and you were surprised at how you continued to fill the silence, not once feeling uncomfortable. Perhaps a little ashamed after explaining how badly you'd hurt Gavin, but you never felt discomfort telling Harry any of it.

"Y/n, I—" Harry began to say before pausing. Looking up at him, you saw his brows furrowed, a look of consternation on his face. You waited for the blow, the one that eventually led him to leave you friendless once and for all. "I don't think you're a bad person for breaking up with him. I can't imagine that kind of hurt, sure, but if you didn't love him, you did the right thing. Do you—Do you seriously believe you're fucked in the head? Or that you ruin people?"

He was referencing the song you'd written, and you flushed bright red at the idea of him hearing more of the song than you would've liked. Shrugging, you gave him the truth. It didn't seem fit to lie when you'd bared your soul to him. "I don't know."

You could tell that answer didn't sit right with Harry. His frown deepened, and you desperately wanted to see him smile again. "Y/n, everyone makes mistakes in relationships, and even then I don't think you did anything wrong in that moment. Was it unfortunate timing? Maybe, but I don't think you should punish yourself for it anymore. In fact, I think what you did was brave."

"What?"

Smiling, Harry took your hand in his. It was warm, and his long fingers curled around your hand with ease. On any other day, you would've pulled back, but after sharing so much with him, this felt good. It felt right.

"I said what you did was brave," he said again. "You didn't love him, but you could've accepted the proposal and stayed with him. And then what? Leave him at the altar? Stay in a loveless marriage? It was hard, but you did the right thing for you and Gavin. I'm sure even he would come to understand that one day. Have you tried talking to him?"

You shook your head. "He hates me now."

"I don't think anyone could really hate you, Y/n," Harry said quietly, a blush crawling up his cheeks as if he hadn't meant to say that out loud. "I know you might disagree, but I think you might feel a lot better about all of this if you talked to him."

"His family—"

"Fuck his family. Gavin is a grown man who can think for himself," Harry said. "If he can't separate their wrong opinions from his own thoughts, then he's an idiot who never deserved you anyway."

You laughed a little at the first half of what he said. It felt nice to know that someone was on your side. Squeezing Harry's hand, you said, "Thank you."

"For what?"

"For listening, for being a good friend when I maybe didn't deserve it. Evan's the only person I talked to about this, and even then I didn't explain everything," you said. Evan had been on your side, but it didn't really count to you. He was your brother. He had to be on your side. "I just don't have the best track record when it comes to hurting people, you know?"

Your eyes had fallen to your hand, which was still curled around his, but to your surprise, Harry's other one lifted your chin to meet his gaze. With wide eyes, you looked at him, heart beating a little wilder in your chest when you saw the look on his face. His expression was wide open, earnest and endearing, and filled with...something you weren't ready to see yet. But it filled you with warmth, and for the first time in a long time, you really believed that you didn't have to be alone.

"I don't think you'll hurt me," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

His hand pushed a strand of your hair away from your face, tucking it behind your ear. The movement made your breath hitch, lips parting as you tried to decide what Harry was going to do next, what you wanted him to do next. He seemed like he was waiting for something too, and his gaze was finally too much, like he could see your soul and was currently shuffling through every little thing you longed for and were afraid of. It was heavy with emotion, and you weren't ready for it.

"You should probably get going soon," you said, rising, with great difficulty, to your feet and putting some distance between yourself and Harry. A frown on Harry's face appeared, and you quickly explained yourself. "Your cat. You probably should head home and feed her."

Before you and Harry sat down to talk about...everything, he briefly mentioned his new kitten, Sweet Pea. "It was the name she already had when I adopted her, and it didn't feel right to change it, though sometimes she's not so sweet." She was a fluffy Ragdoll cat that was apparently quite the diva, and Harry proudly showed off picture after picture, claiming he was already in love with his new furry companion.

Now though, Harry's eyes widened as if he hadn't even thought about his new kitten since being here. "Right. Good call. I'll see you tomorrow?"

You nodded as you watched him gather his things. "I'll return the sweater tomorrow."

"Don't worry about it," he said with a dismissive wave of his hand.

You walked Harry to the door to see him out. He crossed the threshold but paused before heading down to his car. You couldn't read the look that crossed his face, but his lingering gave you one last opportunity to take him all in. The muscles in his arms bulged beneath the white t-shirt he wore, and his hair had grown a tad longer since you'd spoken to him last, now curling around the nape of his neck and touching the collar of his shirt. Harry was taller than you, but not by much, though standing this close, it felt like he was a whole foot taller as you craned your neck to look at him.

Then, before you could ask if he'd forgotten something, he leaned forward. It took you a moment to realize what he'd done, but the lingering traces of heat on your forehead helped. He'd kissed you. On the forehead.

"See you tomorrow!"

Harry was gone in a flash, leaving you standing at the front door of your apartment with an open mouth as you tried to decide what his forehead kiss meant. To you, it felt sisterly, and you couldn't help the disappointment that swirled in your gut. You quickly pushed that feeling away, closing the door on whatever happened just then.

*.*

For the next few weeks, everything felt like it was back to normal. Better than normal, even. Despite the awkwardness you felt at having to see Harry after the odd forehead kiss, Harry acted like it never happened, which you were thankful for. You wouldn't have known what to say if he'd brought it up. Or tried to do it again.

But it became clear, despite the teeny tiny budding feelings you might have had for him, that he merely saw you as a friend. After your long talk with him at your apartment, Harry began showing you some of the work he'd been doing in his own studio down the hall from yours. It appeared he was getting over a break up too, though you never would've guessed by how cheerful he was most days. He still was, even as he explained a little about his most recent relationship, and you realized that while you hid your true emotions behind a wall, he might've been hiding behind his happy disposition. It made you want to dig deeper, to see what lay beneath all that "fineness."

As you spent more time with Harry, you also began hanging out with his friends. The first time you returned to his house for another game night, everyone seemed genuinely happy to see you, namely Sylvia. "I'm so glad you're spending more time with H," she'd said that night. "I love him to death but he's a clingy motherfucker when he's lonely."

That thought made you laugh. You recalled a conversation you'd had with Harry a while back when he'd said his friends were "disgustingly in love." He seemed like the kind of guy who loved love, but you also didn't want Sylvia, or any of his friends, to get the wrong idea.

"Oh I don't—I mean we're not—I don't think he sees me that way."

That wasn't how you wanted to explain yourself, seeing as you weren't even sure if you saw him that way. But Sylvia must have seen your flushed cheeks and understood your floundering because she smiled at you warmly.

"I think this calls for a girl's day. What do you think?"

"Oh. Um..." You didn't expect any of Harry's friends to want to hang out with you one on one, but you'd been leaning into trying new things lately. And girl's day? You grew up with three brothers, the last time you had anything resembling that was a tea party Hayden and Evan threw for you when you were six. "Sure. I could meet you for lunch this week if you'd like."

"Lunch sounds perfect."

A couple days passed until you had Buddy on his leash, walking down to the cafe you and Sylvia agreed on. You were a little nervous, but mostly excited. It had been a while since you'd hung out casually with a friend—you weren't counting Harry—and while you'd grown accustomed to the loneliness, you couldn't help but acknowledge that it felt nice to talk to someone other than your dog.

"Okay," Sylvia said once the waiter walked away with your orders. She'd held off asking about Harry, but now the time had come. "Hit me. What did Harold do?"

"Nothing," you said, perhaps a little too quickly. When Sylvia pinned you with a stare, you looked down at your glass of water. "He just...He gave me a kiss? On the forehead? And I don't know, it just read very...brotherly."

Sylvia sighed, which at the very least vindicated your feelings. It wasn't like you wanted anything more, but the whole thing left you feeling confused. A cheek kiss would've been easier to navigate, but the forehead? It left Y/n thinking about Harry more than she should've.

"Okay, I can see where you might be confused by that, but as someone with a brother, I can confidently say they don't do shit like that."

You weren't sure what you expected her to say, or what you even wanted her to say, but it wasn't that. Sylvia knew Harry fairly well, so it was safe to say that she was telling the truth, you just weren't ready to accept what she was implying.

"I do too, and I know the last thing I would expect from any of my brothers is a kiss on the forehead, but I don't know," you said, trying to remain as neutral as possible knowing Sylvia could report back to Harry. This whole thing was starting to feel very grade school-esque.

"Just know that Harry's a pretty open guy, but he's been burned in the past so he might be a little closed off or not be as inclined to make the first move," Sylvia said, though in some ways it sounded like a warning. "He's the greatest guy you'll ever meet, and whatever you decide, just be gentle, okay?"

It was hard to imagine someone as positive and happy as Harry having a dark past, but it sounded like there was a lot more than what met the eye as far as he was concerned. It was honestly a little comforting to know that he wasn't perfect. You were such a mess sometimes it seemed unfair that people wandered through life seemingly unscathed. You knew that was rarely ever the case, but sometimes it was hard to remember when guys like Harry walked around embracing life and had smiles for every occasion.

"I will," you promised, and you meant it. You were pretty sure nothing was going to happen between you and Harry, but you could appreciate Sylvia looking out for her friend. As nice as she had been to you so far, she was Harry's friend first. Her words made you wonder if you would ever have friends so fiercely loyal to you.

After that lunch with Sylvia, the weeks began to pass by in a blur. There were days when you saw Harry frequently, and then you wouldn't see him at all. He would show up at your studio to get coffee—at a new coffee shop, of course—you stopped by his to bring him and his friends baked goods, and sometimes you would end the night at one another's houses, a bottle of wine and takeout split between the two of you. You weren't dating, at least you wouldn't categorize whatever it was that you were doing as dating, but it felt nice to have someone in your life consistently again, and you liked that Harry was that person even more.

That didn't mean you couldn't read the signs. Sometimes Harry's gaze would linger when he thought you didn't notice, or he would sit a lot closer than was maybe necessary when you hung out with his friends. Sometimes his hand would brush yours as you watched a movie as if he wanted to hold it, and yours would brush back encourgingly, and then suddenly you were holding hands. To anyone else, it might have appeared confusing—in fact, Sylvia had vocalized her confusion over the non-relationship you and Harry were engaging in—but for you, not acknowledging what was happening and not putting any labels or definitions on this thing happening between the two of you was somehow easier to swallow. And since Harry seemed to be following your lead, he didn't say anything to object.

It was around Christmastime that things began to change. You'd spent your morning writing a song for an artist's Christmas album, a feat you'd managed to avoid in the past. But since you'd worked with the artist before and liked the vision she had for this album, you decided to at least try to write a holiday song. It wasn't necessarily that you disliked Christmas or the holidays, you were just indifferent to the season in question, and after everything that transpired two years ago now, you just never felt like celebrating much.

Harry Styles, however, was a huge fan of Christmas. his studio was decked out with lights and garlands, he got him and Sweet Pea matching sweaters, which you weren't entirely sure if he knitted or not, and he'd been bugging you since Thanksgiving to come over to decorate cookies. He'd finally worn you down and you were going over later tonight, but not before putting in a couple hours at the studio, which turned into sitting in on one of Harry's sessions.

It didn't happen often, but you did like seeing the team approach to writing songs as opposed to your usual solitary method. For the most part, you watched as Harry bounced ideas off his friends, observing as they focused on one chord progression or verse until something else stole their attention away. It was a bit chaotic, but everyone in the room seemed to be having fun.

It was in the middle of a heated debate between another fun, upbeat song or beginning to work on a ballad when the melody came to you. It was just piano chords, and had you been in your own studio, you would've immediately sat down to play it and see where it went. But this wasn't your studio, and it wasn't your session, and while you knew no one would've minded hearing your input, you felt nervous all of a sudden, self-conscious.

So instead, you pulled some blank sheet music out and began to scribble, writing as quickly as possible before the melody escaped you. The melody had taken up so much space in your head that everything else faded away. You envisioned arrangements, themes, a line or two sprouting as you wrote down the next note. Something sad and somber, the exact opposite of what Harry had been pushing for since he entered the studio.

"What am I now?" you wrote on the back of the sheet music. You didn't know how it would fit, but it would. You could tinker with the words later, so long as all your thoughts were written down somewhere, you would find a way to make it happen.

"What are you working on over there?"

Harry was suddenly at your side, and when he peeked over your shoulder, you didn't try to hide your frenzied notes. You handed them over, unsure if he even read sheet music. "It was just a thought I had. I can play it for you if you'd like?"

"Please," Harry said, gesturing to the piano in the corner of the room. It was then that you realized that everyone else had left the room at some point or another. At your questioning glance, Harry explained. "Ten minute break, but it felt like you were onto something...And I figured you'd be more willing to share if it wasn't in front of a group."

"Thank you," you said, those pesky butterflies swirling around in your stomach. They seemed to appear any time Harry so much as smiled at you. "It's just a melody, really, but maybe you can use it for something.

You sat down at the piano, eyes widening when Harry sat down beside you. Shaking it off, you focused on the piano, the keys cool and smooth to the touch, a familiar feeling that felt nice among such a different work setting. You explained your thought process to Harry a little bit, telling him the direction you hoped the song would go in and possible arrangements for it and whatnot. Harry, who apparently knew you better than you thought he did, nudged you with his elbow and encouraged you to play, knowing that you were stalling.

It wasn't that you were unsure of yourself or your talent. You knew you were good at what you did. You'd collaborated on multiple albums and worked with many well-known artists and bands, or artists who were just breaking out onto the scene and did so with the help of your songwriting. The difference here was that you normally didn't play an idea for anyone until it was fully realized. You typically sent over demos and typed up lyrics, and Harry would be one of the first to hear something that you'd only just come up with. Besides Buddy, but he didn't really count.

Taking a deep breath, you began to play, letting the chords you'd only just come up with pull your focus. After having played through it a couple times, you looked over at Harry, who had a faraway look in his eyes, an idea of his own forming in his head, perhaps.

"It's fairly simple, but I think that's what's rather beautiful about it," you said while still playing. "Sometimes you don't need much to get a response from someone, and I think a melody like this really allows an artist to shine, you know? Whether that's through their lyrics, or their vocal range, or both. And obviously it can be changed to a different key, this is just the one I wrote down, but...yeah, that's what I've got."

You finally stopped playing to hear Harry's opinion, though you wished you hadn't. Now your hands didn't really know what to do, and it took a lot of effort to keep them knotted together in your lap. Harry still looked pensive, as if he hadn't even heard your rambling, though now you were even more curious to know what he thought.

"Harry?"

Blinking, Harry turned toward you, his knee bumping against yours on the piano bench. His eyes cleared up as he remembered he wasn't alone in the studio. "Hm? Sorry, just thinking."

Offering him your pen and a fresh page in your journal, you said, "Did you maybe want to write it down?"

After that, you and Harry wrote hundreds of songs together. At least it felt like a hundred songs. Whether it was in the studio, or at each other's homes—mainly his because he had a home studio and a guest room for when sessions went too long—the two of you were almost always writing together. It wasn't always for his album, either. Sometimes Harry would help you with projects you were working on for other artists, or you would just write songs for the sake of writing them.

And it just worked. It felt like you and Harry just clicked. He was able to vocalize what you were trying to say to his producer, and you knew what he was thinking before he said it or the sound he was going for based off a couple descriptors. You'd never known someone so intimately before, or understood them so completely, Not even Gavin.

Harry was witty and smart and kind and genuine. He felt things deeply, and kept a lot of his darkest secrets and deepest insecurities incredibly close to his chest. You realized at some point that he was even more guarded than you in some ways. As you wrote together more and more, you obviously realized that there was more than met the eye when it came to your friend, but outside of songwriting, he wouldn't divulge much. He'd been through a breakup recently, that much you could tell, and while you wanted to know more, you respected his privacy and the desire to leave the past exactly where it was. Unless it came to the music, of course.

"So...you're what? Friends without all the benefits?" Sylvia asked you.

You met with her pretty regularly now for lunch during the week. Harry wasn't typically the topic of conversation, but on this occasion, Sylvia was giving you the third degree.

"We're co-workers. And friends," you added as an afterthought. Saying you were merely co-workers didn't seem right to you anymore, and you knew Harry would be upset if you thought otherwise. "I don't know what other benefits I would need outside of his companionship."

"Bull. Shit." Sylvia pinned you with a stare that made you blush. "Last weekend he had you practically sitting in his lap, and you're trying to tell me nothing's going on?"

"Not really. I don't think either of us are in a place to be in a relationship right now." It was the same line you fed to Andrew last week when you went to see one of his games. He thankfully bought it, or maybe he was just used to you keeping your love life to yourself, but Sylvia wasn't having it.

"What makes you say that?"

You shrugged. "I mean I'm definitely not, and I can just tell he's not there yet either. I mean, obviously, I've learned about his most recent relationship by working with him, but outside of that, he doesn't tell me anything. I don't even know her name."

You weren't offended that Harry didn't want to share about his ex. You wouldn't have told him about Gavin if you hadn't been put in that particular situation. But you understood better than most about that kind of pain. Maybe he wasn't ready. Maybe his feelings were getting all jumbled up between the past and the present. Or maybe he just didn't like you that way. The last theory hurt more than you cared to admit, but you were more scared of another potential relationship going up in flames than finding out the truth, so you decided ignorance really was bliss.

Sylvia nodded, understanding. You realized she must've known his ex, though you didn't ask for details. That was Harry's story to tell, not hers, and you were pretty sure Sylvia would say the same if you did ask. "I guess that's fair. But so, you're just...friends who kiss occasionally?"

You nearly choked on your sip of water. "What? No! Of course not. We don't—We—"

"Let me save you the struggle of coming up with an unconvincing lie," Sylvia said. "I've seen you."

"When?"

"Christmas party," she said, raising one finger as if she was about to list a few occurences.

"That was mistletoe. It was innocent," you said with a dismissive wave of your hand, even though said hand was suddenly clammy.

"New Year's."

"Everyone kisses at the end of the countdown!"

"At game night when he kissed your neck?"

"Why are you paying that close attention to my neck?"

"And," Slyvia said, pointedly ignoring your last remark. "I have it on good authority that Harry kissed you at the studio last week. Don't try to hide it, Y/n."

Sighing, you said, "So what's your point, exactly?"

"My point is that y'all are just pretending you're not in a relationship when you are!" she said, looking at you as if you had two heads. "Look, it's clear you've been through some shit and Harry has too, I won't deny that. But are you really going to put your happiness on the back burner because of it?"

Your cheeks burned at having been caught. It wasn't like you'd planned to kiss Harry any of those times. Each kiss came as a surprise, leaving you more and more breathless than the last and hopeful for another. What Sylvia didn't know was that you and Harry had kissed a lot more than the handful that she'd rattled off. Sometimes when it was late and you were over at his house working, he'd get this look in his eyes that would turn your whole body molten. He'd lean in close, nudge your nose with his, and then his lips were on yours and time suddenly didn't exist.

You liked kissing Harry. A lot. You liked the way his fingers gingerly held your jaw, you liked that kissing him gave you free rein to touch him wherever you wanted—his hair, his arms, beneath his shirt. Sometimes it felt like you couldn't get enough, but it always ended with one of you pulling away under the guise that it was getting late. Your lips would tingle long after, and you'd text Harry late at night when you should've been asleep, or he would call to talk about whatever he was thinking.

To anyone else, it wouldn't make sense, but it made sense to you and Harry. There was no pressure to be more, no urgency to define what you were doing, and that seemed to work for both of you.

"I'm perfectly happy right now," you said, and you were.

It had been a long time since you'd felt this content. Your breakup with Gavin left you feeling guilty and ashamed. And deep down, you knew you already felt more for Harry than you did for your ex, and that made you feel horrible too. Part of you still felt you were being greedy by trying to be this happy, that you should just take what you were given and try not to press your luck.

Sylvia took you by surprise by taking your hand. Her fingers were warm and reassuring, just as her eyes were when you finally met her gaze. It was safe to say now that she was your friend. She'd come over to your house multiple times for wine and movie nights, you went out to bars together, you'd met her partner, who was the absolute sweetest person on the planet. You valued Sylvia's friendship, and you valued her as a person. You didn't want to lose her if things with Harry progressed and fizzled out.

"It's okay to want more, Y/n," she said gently.

It was like she saw through all the bullshit and realized what you were really scared of. Harry was the only person who knew everything regarding your past relationship, but you told Sylvia bits and pieces. When you'd told her that you broke up with Gavin the night he wanted to propose, she didn't judge you, or ask why you'd throw away a perfectly good relationship. She was empathetic, and said she was sorry you had to go through that. It felt good to confide in someone who was willing to hear your side of the story, to have them realize if you could've loved Gavin the way he loved you, you would've.

"Maybe," you said. "But like I said, I'm not the only one who has shit to work through."

Sylvia nodded, letting the subject drop. But the words she'd said, It's okay to want more, needled at your brain the rest of the day.

*.*

"You should come with me."

You had been watching Sweet Pea doze contentedly on top of Buddy, who was curled in a ball on his dog bed. The two of them were an unlikely pair, but they'd gotten along great the first time they were introduced, and now you found it adorable any time they napped together.

Harry's voice was low and scratchy in your ear, as if he wasn't too far off from sleep himself. You were huddled together under a blanket on your couch, watching the credits roll on the second movie of the night, but you hadn't paid much attention to anything since the moment Harry pulled you to his chest and tucked his chin in the crook of your neck, peppering your skin with kisses as his thumbs rubbed circles beneath your shirt.

"What?" you asked, not having really heard him. It seemed impossible, but every day his touch became more and more dizzying.

"To Japan. You should come with me," he said. "It would be like a writing retreat."

Harry had mentioned his impromptu trip to Japan over dinner. He seemed excited about it, of getting out of town for a little while and just being alone with his thoughts. Those were his words, though now he was inviting you along.

"I don't even have a passport," you said, a non-answer, as Harry would call it.

"We'll get you one," he said. "Don't you think it would be fun to explore a new city together? Just the two of us?"

"W—What about Buddy?"

"Buddy can come to," Harry said, like it was all just so easy.

You thought back to your conversation with Sylvia a week ago. It's okay to want more, she'd said. At the time, you were content with this thing you and Harry were doing. It was simple and easy and pressure-free. A couple weeks later her words still nagged you. You hadn't mentioned wanting more to Harry, but this was different. This was...big. Appearing nonchalant didn't make it so.

"What are we?" you found yourself asking, hating how cliche the question was, even if you did need the answer all of a sudden.

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, but you knew he was too smart to not understand.

Still, you sat up and faced him, forcing him to sit on the other side of the couch to have a proper conversation. "I meant exactly what I said, H. What—What are we doing here exactly?"

Harry's face flushed, the muscles in his arm flexing as he rubbed his neck. "I...I don't know. I thought we were okay with not really defining it."

Not defining it, or not talking about it? you thought, even though that wasn't really fair. You were just as content not to ask as he was until now. Or a few weeks ago, you couldn't exactly tell when you began to want more, or when wanting more stopped scaring you.

"I know, but now you're asking me to drop everything and fly to Japan for...for how long exactly?"

Harry shrugged, and your jaw ticked. "A couple months?"

"A couple months," you repeated, trying to align your thoughts. All you could hear though was, It's okay to want more. Taking a deep breath, you said, "I think...I think if I'm going to follow someone across the world for a couple months, I would like a definition about what it is we're doing."

"It's a writing retreat, Y/n. We would be working on songs. Just like we've always done."

You weren't sure when you became the brave one. Perhaps it was your conversation with Sylvia bolstering your confidence, or maybe it was Harry's reluctance to acknowledge the situation at hand, you weren't sure, but his reply wasn't enough. Not nearly enough.

"I'd have to find my own hotel," you said. "Or an apartment to rent I guess."

"You'd stay with me obviously," Harry said, and you had to resist the urge to take him by the shoulders and shake him until he started seeing your perspective.

"Co-workers don't live together, H."

"But we're not just co-workers, Y/n. We're—"

Your brows raised, encouraging him to finish, but he ended up shaking his head. Running a tired hand over his face, he said, "I understand what you mean, but I can't...I can't give that to you right now."

You nodded, then stood up. "And I can't go to Japan without it."

It hurt, but at least he was being upfront about how he felt. It wasn't really fair of you to ask for more when both of you had been content to keep things simple. But somewhere down the line, you realized you liked Harry. A lot. You were okay with leaving your history with Gavin in the past, and you wanted to look to the future now. You'd thought that the future might include a relationship with Harry, but he wasn't ready, and you weren't sure if you wanted to wait. So much of the last two years had been waiting, hiding. Now you needed more. You craved it.

You felt like you were in some kind of alternate universe. One where Harry was scared and unsure of himself and unable to admit to what he wanted. You wanted more, and you weren't going to settle for anything less. You wanted to be more than his friend whom he kissed sometimes, you wanted to hear his scratchy voice as he woke up beside you, and you knew he did too, but something was holding him back. You'd spent too much time hiding from life and love to hide with him some more. Part of you wanted to, just because it was Harry, and you cared about him a lot, but a bigger part of you knew what you deserved, and it was okay to acknowledge that.

"I understand," he said, standing up with you.

Both of you were quiet as he gathered his things. You watched his broad shoulders shrug into his coat, the lean frame of his body bend down to put Sweet Pea in her little carrier. You felt the loss of him already, and he hadn't even gone yet, but you could feel the wall going up between the two of you. Both of you were guarded in your own ways, and both of you had been as vulnerable as you could be, but it wasn't enough.

"When are you planning on leaving?" you asked as you walked him to the door.

"Couple weeks," he said. "Just have to get the logistics figured out."

Nodding, you stepped into his offered embrace, letting yourself inhale the scent of his cologne and feel his arms around you for the last time for a while. His nose bumped yours in a move that was so familiar it made your heart squeeze. You weren't sure how long you stood like that, kissing until you couldn't breathe, it was only until Buddy's wet nose nudged the two of you apart that you finally stepped away from him. Harry bent down to scratch your dog's head and let him lick his cheek a few times before straightening back up. He was about to turn and leave when you called his name.

"I don't know what happened," you said, swallowing around the lump in your throat. "If you did something or if she did something to make you so...closed off, and from one heavily guarded person to another, I'm sorry that it happened and that it made you this way. I hope you find whatever it is you're looking for in Japan."

Harry grinned, but it wasn't wide enough to show his dimples. Without saying a word, he left, head bent as he walked down the hall, taking a piece of you with him.

Buddy nudged your leg, pulling away from the hall Harry already disappeared down. Your dog's eyes were big and curious and completely unaware of what was wrong, which brought a watery smile to your face. "Come on, bubba. Let's get ready for bed."

[cutielando]

Hello, could you write a jealous!reader x sub!charles leclerc fic, please

subby | c.l.

a/n: no actual smut in this one, kinda just danced around the whole dynamic of it rather than the acts themselves

my masterlist

To say you were furious was an understatement.

You were partying with Charles to celebrate his home win, and had been having a very good time for most of the night.

Up until she decided to flirt with your man, and he did nothing to stop her.

You had been thinking of stomping over to them and giving the girl who dared flirt with your boyfriend a piece of your mind, but you decided against it.

The best approach, which would 100% make Charles realize his wrongs, was not to fight with the girl in public. It was to jump him and show him who's the boss once you both got home.

And that's exactly what you did.

From the second you entered your shared apartment in Monaco, you were bossing him around like you always did whenever he would do this, so he already knew the drill.

"Take your clothes off"

"Get in the bedroom"

"Wait for me and think about what you did, Charlie"

Charles didn’t want to admit, but he found it so hot whenever you would become dominant. A lot of his friends believed that he wore the pants in the relationship, especially in the bedroom, but the truth was far from it.

In reality, you’re the one with the reins, and he loved things the way they were. He hadn’t realized just how much he liked being the one dominated until he met you.

You helped him realize he was submissive like a dog in front of you, something you reveled in.

He lay there on the bed, his clothes off and his body slumped against the bed. You were taking your sweet time getting ready for a long night in the bedroom, which made Charles even more excited for what was to come.

You silently exited the bathroom and stopped before him in front of the bed, eyeing him up and down as he observed you intently,

The whole setting was familiar to the both of you, ending up in this situation more often than Charles would like to admit.

“Charlie, we need to talk about your behavior tonight” you said, pouting and shaking your head as you took in his naked body with more attention.

Charles shivered under your intense gaze, the light breeze flowing through the room tickling his aching length. He was naked, feeling so vulnerable under your eyes, so helpless and small.

"I'm sorry, mommy" he whimpered out, biting his lip as he focused on your body language. Charles knew he was in for a very long night, but he wanted to get a sense of just how long and dragging it was going to be.

But you were unreadable to him in those moments.

"We've talked about this dozens of times, Charlie, and you still haven't learned" you shook your head, tauntingly turning around and walking around the room until you reached the magic closet.

The toy closet.

Charles' eyes widened when he saw you opening it and scanning its contents, knowing you were contemplating just how much you'll put him through for the night.

"I know, mommy, I'm sorry. I didn't realize what was happening" he said, making you smile as you finally found what you were looking for.

You turned around and dangled the two pairs of handcuffs you held in your hands, wiggling your eyebrows at your boyfriend.

Silently, you made your way to the headboard of the bed, taking each of his hand and handcuffing him to the bed, making sure they weren't too tight to hurt him.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk. That just means I'm going to have to teach you a lesson once again" you said, kneeling down before him and running your acrylic nails up and down his thigh, leaving goosebumps along his skin.

He whined out, closing his eyes and allowing himself to succumb to your desires, ready to be yours for the rest of the night.

Just how you loved him.

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[cheriladycl01]

hiya could you maybe write a Fernando x Reader one shot, where something happens between the two of them they get into a fight and Fernando gives the reader the silent treatment refuses to talk to them. Goes on for a few days and finally the reader cracks and is really upset and cries in front of Nando reader thinks he doesn’t love her anymore etc.. and they make up in the end.. as much as I want it angsty I do love the fluff in the end

The Silent Treatment - Fernando x Reader

Plot: You and Fernando get into a rare fight. It’s a big one though and you say something you didn’t really mean making Fernando give you the pouty silent treatment …

You and Fernando were like salt and pepper and butter and bread. You rarely argued and always got alone, if you did argue you both had effortless communication skills meaning that whatever happened was resolved pretty quickly.

But after a not so good race weekend for Fernando that you couldn't attend because you were halfway across the world singing for a collab bran deal you were doing and a stressful weekend for you creating content for this brand deal you were exhausted when you got him straight from the plane Monday night.

"Hey" you smile tiredly at Fernando who is sat on the sofa. You're so sleepy you don't even notice his sour look.

"What is this?" he demands looking around the house and you look over to him confused at his raised voice.

"What?" you ask and he gestures to the house, you look around and you could tell it was a little disorganized and messy than it usually was but not dirty or unclean.

"Sorry honey, but we've both been extremely busy this weekend! I left only a few hours after you. You came back before me" you giggle thinking he wasn't actually mad, but the minute he stood up starting to do everything himself in an overly aggressive way had you at a stand still. Like a deer caught in headlights. He'd never acted like this before. It must have been a really bad weekend.

"Baby, why don't you sit down. We're both tired and I can just do it tomorrow while you are on the sim!" you exclaim coming closer to him to try and pull his arm away from the clothes hamper he was currently putting stuff into.

"God, why wasn't any of this done before you left?" he asks with almost a glare and you are in shock.

You and Fernando never expected anything from one another, whether it was Sex, Chores, Help... nothing was expected at all. So why was he demanding this should have been done by you before you left.

"I guess I was just busy" you explain.

"Busy more like lazy" he mutters, which was true sometimes you did have a tendency to have home days off where you didn't do any chores or shopping and would just laze about, but every needed those kind of days... right?

"Alright says Mr Crash on turn 1, maybe you should be focusing more on racing than bothering me about stupid little things and you might actually win again!" you say in the heat of the moment.

You regret it almost straight away blubbering after trying to back track what you said but it had already all come out.

"Nando, I- I didn't mean that I'm so so sorry!" you exclaim, but he just walks off going into the spare bedroom shutting and locking the door behind him.

Tears fill your eyes as what you said really settles in. You start to make dinner for the both of you with scraps from the cupboards and whatever was in-date in the fridge. It ended up just a simple pasta and home made garlic bread.

"Nando?" you knock on the door to the guest bedroom hoping he might come out for some food. When he doesn't after a few minutes you sigh going back to the kitchen. You wrap up his food with some clingfilm, leaving it out on the plate to cool down while you go round the house doing all the bits that hadn't been done while you and Fernando hadn't been here.

They were just little bits, like the clothes and drying up and putting the blankets from the sofa away in their basket, hoovering and dusting the stairs. Small little jobs that weren't taking you long.

The more you thought about it, the worse you felt. You could have just done these jobs before you left it wouldn't have been difficult and it wouldn't have taken much time. You were just very stressed over the brand deal.

You went to bed feeling incredibly guilty. You tossed and turned the whole night not being able to sleep with your husband not cuddled up in the bed with you.

You woke up the next day, going straight to the shower trying to wash away all your emotions from the previous night ready to start on a clean slate with Fernando.

However, what you didn't expect was Fernando to be waiting outside the ensuite for you.

"Buenos Dias!" you smile at him, but he just brushes past you, ignoring your morning greeting to him.

And that's how it went for the rest of the day. He would just leave the house without saying anything, coming back sweaty and with his trainer. He would refuse to eat the food and drinks you made for him, making you have to double up whatever you made for lunch as your dinner so the food didn't go to waste.

You tried at ever opportune moment to try and talk to him but he kept on ignoring you. It was stressing you out, all of this silent treatment. Was he really being this petty.

But once it got to day 3 you'd had enough. You were practically pulling your hair out at the fact the he had said nothing. You were doubting yourself wondering if you were really that horrible of a person and that Fernando no longer loved you.

You were laying in bed when he came home, sobbing into the pillow that still faintly smelt like him despite him not having been in the bed for the last few days.

Fernando was shocked to not see you, for the last few days you'd practically been running yourself raw trying to get himself to talk whilst cleaning then house. You'd even cancelled a few job opportunities that had come your way, feeling as though even more distance between the pair of you would be awful.

Now Fernando was the one to feel bad, he knew he was being petty by not talking to you, and he agreed with himself that he over-reacted when it came to your arrival home. But at the same time what you said to him, really really fucking hurt.

He knocked on the door and your sobs turned into small hiccups as you attempted to calm your breathing down.

"Yeah?" you ask, but it sounds a little chocked up to Fernando who feels just awful.

"Mi Amore!" he says as he pushes open the door a little. You fully sit up on the bed, red puffy eyes and tear stains down your cheeks making him sigh.

He didn't mean to make you this upset.

"I'm sorry Nando, I really didn't mean it I just was so confused why you were so angry with me and then you called me lazy which I know i can be but you've never said it as more than a joke and ..." you ramble until he comes forward pulling you into a sweet and short kiss.

"I'm the one that should be sorry, I didn't mean to call you lazy. I was just exhausted after an awful weekend and it didn't help that you were absent for it... i just felt useless" he explains and you nod.

"Please can we go back to talking things out? I don't like it when you freeze me out! It feels awful. I thought ... you didn't love me anymore and were looking into a divorce" you almost whimper at the thought of Fernando cutting ties with you in such a legal fashion. You genuinely thought that would break your heart.

"I'd never leave you mi amore! You are without a doubt the best thing in my life!" he exclaims pulling you into a hug and kissing the top of your head.

"I love you so so much! I'll talk to you next time okay? I promise" he sighs kissing all over your face, knowing you'd both be working overtime for the next few weeks, apologizing to one another.

Taglist:

@littlesatanicassholebitch @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @daemyratwst @lauralarsen @the-untamed-soul @thewulf @itsjustkhaos @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @summissss @gulphulp @starfusionsworld @jspitwall l @sierruhhhh @georgeparisole @youcannotcancelquidditch @tallbrownhairsarcastic @ourteenagetragedy @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @bigsimperika @blueberry64857959 @eiraethh @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @dark-night-sky-99 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @laneyspaulding19 @malynn @viennakarma @landosgirlxoxo @marie0v @yourbane @teamnovalak @nikfigueiredo @fionaschicken @0picels0 @tinydeskwriter @ironmaiden1313 @splaterparty0-0 @formula1mount

[saltylemontears]

try again || ln4

summary: you and lando meet after many years with lots to talk about... warnings: none? i think? a/n: my first lando fic got over 650 notes (INSANE), so here's another, longer, as a thank you!

you weren't a big fan of racing. in fact, you had no clue what it was really about, until your brother brought you here.

the paddock is loud, way too loud for your liking, and you don't really understand. you see people wearing merch, carrying around signs and cutouts with big smiles on their faces, and it's actually kind of cute.

your brother gets into a passionate conversation about a championship with a fellow fan and decides to completely ignore your existence. how typical of him. your eyes wander to the big screen on your left.

names and pictures flash before your eyes, but none of them sound familiar. max verstappen, charlec leclerc, oscar piastri, lando norris.

lando norris.

lando norris?

lando norris, your highschool sweetheart? no, that can't be. surely, it's just a guy with the same name. and the same face. and the same fucking curls. just a coincidence.

your thoughts begin to wander, and suddenly you're in highschool again, anxiously waiting for lando in the park, on your bench. but lando's not in sight. not a single trace of him, he didn't even text you that he's busy like he usually does. you left the park two hours later, tears streaming down your face, betrayal stinging inside your chest.

and it starts stinging again. your first ever love, your first ever heartbreak.

you never thought you'd feel like this on a random sunday in miami, and it's overwhelming, it's all too much and you need to go.

your brother turns back to you. "hey, where are you going?"

it feels stupid to tell him about lando and whatever feelings you're feeling right now, so you just sit back down. "nothing, nothing,"

you manage to zone out for a while, only coming back to your senses when the lights go out, the race starts and your brother screams in excitement.

the crowd goes insane every time a car passes them, making the whole place even louder, and to be completely honest, it's actually kinda fun to watch those cars go ridiculously fast.

as the race comes to an end, the fans get louder, specifically the ones dressed in orange and your brother stands up, cheering passionately.

"and lando norris wins the miami grand prix, for the first time in formula on-"

jesus christ. you just witnessed your first love win a fucking formula one race with your own eyes.

you watch the screen, seeing lando on the podium, looking so happy and relieved, and all of a sudden, you see the same kid you loved those years ago and it's way too much to fucking handle. you get up again.

"i'm gonna go pee," you tell your brother, attempting to leave as quietly as possible, making your way through the crowd.

hell, you don't even know where the toilets are. you just need to get out of there real quick.

and you run, you run until you don't know where you are, but you're standing next to a bunch of guys in orange, breathing heavily.

you feel tears streaming down your cheeks and you hide your face, trying to find a bathroom. those orange guys definitely have a bathroom there, right?

and now, you're completely lost, messy and lando norris is in front of your eyes, chatting with someone. you need to get out.

you wait for a while until everyone turns around and run out of there as quickly as you can and-

something taps on your shoulder, and when you turn around, it's him. you're not sure whether you should cry or laugh.

your eyes meet and it's awkward as hell, just like back in highschool.

"didn't think i'd see you again," he says quietly after a minute of just staring. his voice is a little wobbly.

"i wish you didn't," you reply softly, turning back around to make your way back, but he stops you again. he stays quiet.

"congratulations," you say when he doesn't reply, and you mean it. no bad feelings, just like your mum always told you. "you did well,"

lando's hand on your shoulder tightens and he bites his lip, as if he was trying to find the right words.

"i'm sorry." he eventually whispers, voice breaking in the middle, and your heart fucking breaks at the sight, as angry as you are. "i-i'm gonna explain, alright? i'll tell you everything, please,"

you nod in agreement. today just can't get crazier.

he gently leads you somewhere, and you feel your survival instinct kick in, but it's lando. it's always been him.

he closes the door behind you when you sit on the couch in his driver's room. your hands shake.

"go on then," you begin, "explain,"

he takes a deep breath. "listen, i didn't really have a choice. i had to leave, you know? to move up the ladder, and i dropped out, because i wanted to chase this dream," he says, eyes wandering over your face. "and then - then it started being more than a dream, and i left everyone behind, not just you, and i'm so fucking sorry,"

you tense. "you could've at least texted me,"

"and what was i supposed to text you? that i'm leaving the country to become a racing driver and that i'm gonna be living in monaco and flying around the world and might never see you again?"

"anything. you don't even know how i felt after you ditched me," you reply, bitterness coating the sentence.

"i didn't want to ditch you,"

"but you did, lando, and it fucking hurt!" you raise your voice a little, but it's shaky and unstable. lando reaches for your hand.

"i'm sorry, i really am," he whispers, "i thought about you every day, how you're doing, because i loved you. i loved you so fucking much, i wanted you to just forget my dumb ass,"

"i didn't forget," you say, hand brushing against his. "i thought you didn't want me anymore,"

the room goes silent and you can hear each other's breathing.

"i still love you. i never really stopped," you blurt out, not even realizing what you've just said until he pulls you into a much needed hug, whispering a "me too," in your ear.

you pull away, looking into his eyes. he smiles, and it's the most beautiful thing you've ever seen.

"you think we could try again?"

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @steddie-spooktober.

Gravity Always Wins

Day #3 Prompt: Apples | Word Count: 6464 | Rating: M | POV: Eddie | CW: Language, Sex | Tags: Modern AU, Meet Cute, Apple Picking, Bakery Owner Steve, Sports Guy Steve, Smitten Eddie Munson, Platonic Stobin, Gareth, Good Uncle Wayne Munson

Also right here on ao3.

"Oh shit, oh fuck," Eddie says as the apple tumbles out of his grasp. He looks down in horror as it falls, like a slow-motion car wreck happening right before his very eyes, as it lands directly on the guy's head that was picking below him.

To add insult to injury, it hits with a very audible thunk. 

Shit, he shouldn't even be allowed on a ladder. That's like the first rule of the universe or some shit. Who signed off on this? Honestly.

"I'm so sorry, are you okay?" Eddie asks, coming down the ladder, watching as the guy, the very pretty guy, rubs at the top of his head, only slightly worried he's about to get his ass kicked in a goddamn apple orchard.

But the guy is laughing.

He's laughing, and gorgeous, and Eddie can't help but smile. 

"Goddamn you, Newton!" Eddie shouts, dramatically shaking his fist in the air, eyes trained on the sky, as if he had nothing at all to do with this, and that gravity alone was solely to blame.

"Gravity always wins," the guy says, then adds, "I'm good, honest, you just startled me. I never thought concussion number four would be at the hands of an apple. But here we are."

Eddie feels his face fall.

"Oh, oh no, I'm kidding. I was just teasing you. I'm fine. Look? It was just a little apple," he says, leaning over to pick up the offending piece of fruit. 

Eddie eyes it in his palm, "That's definitely gonna have a bruise."

"Like my head," he teases, and Eddie reaches out and pops him on the shoulder, making him pull back, giggling. His sweater is soft under Eddie's hand, and Eddie wants to reach out and stroke it again, but stops himself. Content to just stare a second.

He's truly something to look at. Goddamn.

Eddie just smiles at him, and when he straightens back up, he hands the apple back.

It is a little apple, and Eddie probably shouldn't have picked it in the first place, but he doesn't know what the fuck he's doing. He saw an apple, and picked it.

Looking at the bushel this guy has selected, though, gives him pause. They are evenly sized, and brightly colored. No blemishes at all. Perfect apples, for the perfect guy.

Eddie's are a little misshapen and odd. The freaks, if you will, but he thinks that's pretty damn fitting.

"Guess you'll have to make applesauce–" the guy starts, and then stops, clearly searching for Eddie's name.

"Eddie," Eddie offers.

"Eddie," he repeats. "I'm Steve."

"Well, Steve, I would make some applesauce if I knew how," Eddie laughs.

"You could always come by my bakery slash coffee shop," Steve offers, sort of shaking the basket slung over his arm, "That's why I'm picking apples today. So I can make some seasonal items with local apples. Customers eat that shit up."

Eddie thinks he's being picked up. Maybe. Or not. He's never very good at getting those signals right. Gareth says he's hopeless, and sometimes that feels more accurate than he'd like to admit.

Like, right now. Is Steve hitting on him, or trying to drum up business? 

Eddie decides he honestly doesn't exactly care which it is, "Sure, I'd love to be the guinea pig for your apple pie."

"Well," Steve says, lowering his voice in a way that makes Eddie feel funny in a good way, "I never said pie."

"Oh, well, in that case…" Eddie teases, trailing off, acting as if he's going to walk away.

But, Steve just laughs at him, and digs in his wallet, producing a little business card: Harrington's. Since 1955.

"My, you look awfully good for your age," Eddie says.

Steve laughs, "My grandma and grandpa ran it before me. And they didn't think they'd have anyone to take over the family business when they retired. And then I turned up, with nothing better to do."

Eddie nods. He's definitely going to stop by Steve's family business, not even for the not-pie, but just so he can see more of this guy, "Well, in that case. When should I show up?"

"Tomorrow, anytime after three?" Steve suggests, and Eddie is nodding along. Tomorrow after three sounds perfect to him. 

Eddie pulls up in the alley behind the back of the bakery, as directed, and can't really believe he's here. Like, what does he know about baking? He can't even bake a box of brownies without messing them up somehow.

But, Steve is gorgeous, and this isn't an invite he's about to turn down. He's a fool, but he's no dummy. Eddie pushes on the back door, and it's heavy, but slowly glides open. 

"Knock, knock," Eddie says, and then hears a commotion. Lots of yelling. Like a fight is happening. 

His fight or flight starts to kick in, and flight will always win for him, but…he pauses.

He knows that kind of yelling from Uncle Wayne, and as far as a fight goes, it's surely a one-sided one, because Steve's staring up at the mounted television over on the wall, screaming at the refs of a football game, as he stands inside an industrial kitchen, at a stainless steel prep table, peeling apples.

Oh, no. No, no, no.

Steve the Baker is also Steve the Sports Guy? That wasn't advertised on the label at all. 

Eddie's been hoodwinked. The wool pulled straight over his eyes. Was bamboozled by a pretty face in a warm-looking sweater, right there in a goddamn apple orchard.

He's starting to plan his escape, when Steve turns to look at him, and smiles, waving his paring knife in the air, "Hey! You made it!"

"Hey," Eddie says back, shucking off his jacket and hanging it on the coat rack by the door. Steve sounds excited to see him, and maybe the game is almost over. He could deal with it for a few minutes. Steve was very pretty in that sweater.

He squints at the screen, and the score is 0-0 and it's still the first quarter. He doesn't know a lot about sports, but he grew up with Wayne. He at least understands that this means the damn thing has just started. 

"You care if I leave the game on?" Steve asks, flashing him those warm eyes, and Eddie finds himself nodding along with that idea, like a damn idiot. No, he doesn't want to watch sports, but…that face.

That face will make him break his most solemn of vows: no sports. He just won't tell Wayne or Gareth. He'll gloss right over that part, and nobody will ever have to know that he spent the whole afternoon with football blaring in the background of his maybe date.

Because, as good looking as this guy is, and as much as Eddie would like to eat this guy, and his baked goods, alive, he's sure this isn't going to go any further than this afternoon. It can't. What would they talk about? Baking and football? Eddie doesn't know anything about either of those topics. But he can surely bumble through one afternoon. That'll be fine. Eddie can do anything for one afternoon. All the odd jobs he's ever held has proven that.

Hell, if he plays his cards right, maybe he can get one night out of it, too.

But long-term? He can already see the writing on the wall, and it bums him out, just a little bit. He hadn't been this excited about a guy in a while.

Steve hands Eddie a peeler, and Eddie goes to work, peeling the whole bushel of apples that Steve has washed and laid out on a towel. He does know how to work a peeler, at least. That was his job for potatoes at Wayne's, when he was far too little to do anything else.

"So, tell me about yourself. Do you always assault men with apples?" Steve asks, and Eddie looks over at him and smiles.

"Only the cute ones," Eddie flirts, and loves the blush that stains Steve's cheeks as he looks back down at the apples he's evenly slicing. 

"No offense, but you don't seem like the apple picking type," Steve says, and Eddie laughs. He's not wrong. "What brought you out there, especially all by yourself?"

"It's part of my contract. Free apples from the orchard and free pumpkins from the patch," Eddie says, then realizes that doesn't explain anything at all, adding, "I work nights at the haunted hayride. As a scare actor," Eddie says, then holds his hands up like a zombie.

Steve's eyes are big, and it's awfully cute as he laughs.

"So, free apples. I mean, how many apples or pumpkins can one man eat? But free is free."

"Maybe I'll teach you how to bake something using them," Steve suggests and Eddie nods. He'd like that. A lot, he thinks. Even if that's all he gets out of the day.

"Deal. So, what's on the menu for today?"

Steve grins, "Apple fritters. Cupcakes. There's this apple maple upside down cake I want to try. A cobbler. Someone suggested an apple pie."

"They sound smart," Eddie banters, and Steve just keeps smiling.

"Have you ever made a dessert pizza?" Eddie asks, meeting Steve's eyes.

"Like from Pizza Hut?" Steve questions, and Eddie nods.

"No, but we totally can. I've never thought to try to make it myself."

Eddie smiles at the thought. He imagines homemade would be even better than what used to be on the buffet at Pizza Hut when he was younger.

Steve moves from slicing apples to dicing them very small and fine. In perfect little squares that are very impressive to Eddie's eyes. He can barely cut anything evenly, so that seems like quite the feat.

Eddie watches as Steve goes between watching the knife in his hands so he doesn't cut his fingers off, and the ballgame. 

"You should come to the hayride," Eddie blurts out.

Steve smiles, "I don't really do scary things, or anything that risks a head injury these days."

It's just a trailer pulled around the grounds, nobody touches anybody. Couldn't if they wanted to, but if he doesn't like scary, he doesn't like scary. Then he remembers something Steve had joked about in the orchard after Eddie had beaned him with that apple.

"Have you really already had three concussions?" Eddie asks.

"Yeah," Steve answers, "at least three that I know about. But not from falling apples. I'm fine. I promise."

"How'd you get them?" Eddie asks, because he isn't sure how one gets that many concussions unless they've been abused, and his stomach drops. Maybe he shouldn't have asked that. Maybe it's none of his goddamn business. Maybe-

"I got one from a dickhead in high school that blindsided me during a stupid fight, and then the other two from football plays in college, a couple weeks apart. One was a dirty, on purpose, helmet-to-helmet late hit, the last one was during a quarterback sneak that went wrong."

Eddie has no idea what that means.

"What's that mean?" Eddie asks.

Steve looks at him, "Not a football guy?"

Eddie shakes his head adamantly, "Not an any sports guy. Sorry."

"That's okay," Steve says, "A quarterback sneak is when you only need to move a yard or two down the field to, say, get across the goal line to score, or get a first down, and the linemen in front of you, the big guys, push forward and the quarterback tries to carry it over himself. No hand-off. No throw."

"And you were the quarterback?"

"I was. I was a little too exposed, and one of the defensive players came in and hit me helmet to helmet in the dogpile. Snapped my neck backwards."

"I'm sorry," Eddie says.

"It happens. Most of the time you go into concussion protocol, and clear it. Mine wasn't even caught immediately after it happened. Not even by me. I hopped right back up, and it wasn't until I'd thrown a few uncharacteristic picks later, that they decided something must be wrong with me and pulled me out of the game and straight into the tent. Once the migraines started a few days later, and never really stopped after all the other symptoms went away, that was the end of the line. No more football. No NFL draft."

Eddie swallows, that's fucking rough.

"They forced you to stop?" Eddie asks. 

"Yes," Steve says, then must change his mind, "No. Not really. The specialists suggested it. I don't think they could have forced me to comply. Hell, they'll play you into the ground. But it would have been a risk to draft a known concussion magnet. So, it was a choice I had to make for myself, and I chose to stop, to preserve what I had left. Stop it at the occasional migraine. Of course Robin, my best friend, would have flayed me alive if I'd done anything else. She was the first to call it, and she was right."

"But you were good enough to go pro? If you hadn't taken those hits?" Eddie asks, quietly.

"Maybe. Maybe not. Who knows?" Steve answers with a shrug, like he doesn't really care one way or the other, but he must care. He'd have to. Eddie knows he'd care if he couldn't play the guitar anymore, and he's never been anywhere near going professional.

"But you still watch it? Football? Even after losing the chance to play?" Eddie asks.

Steve smiles, "Hell yeah. I still love the game. Even if I can't play."

Then he points at the screen, "I'm friends with #52. In the white. We went to college together. It all worked out better for him than it did me, but I couldn't be prouder of him. A little jealous, sure. But really proud, too."

"Do you ever get to go to games in person, or is that impossible with the bakery?"

"I try to hit one a season, as that's about all the favors I can call in with my friends. Coming in at three a.m. to get shit ready is a hard sell, let me tell you," Steve laughs, "That and they don't know what they're doing. So, it's just easier to just stay here. Watch on television. Scream at the refs from home instead of the stands."

"I know all about the screaming. I live with my uncle, and he has a sport for every season, I swear it. Getting him to move to Indy with me was no small feat, let me tell you," Eddie laughs, "But he needed to retire from the plant. He still works, because he's a stubborn old man, but now he's at a local hardware store instead, bossing clueless jackasses around. His words, not mine."

Steve laughs, "He sounds great."

"He is, and of course you'd think so, you sports guys always stick together."

Steve laughs, nodding like it's true, and then they go back to work. Baking, watching the game, and cheering on Steve's friend to a close game win.

And that evening, Eddie goes home with a still warm pie, and a phone number for Steve burning a hole in his pocket.

They spend the next two weeks texting back and forth, with a few short phone calls sprinkled in for good measure, but it hasn't gone beyond that. Eddie isn't sure if Steve's just busy or uninterested in setting up a second date. He wishes he'd just tell him. They could just be friends, but Eddie would rather know that now, instead of later once he's already gotten swept away by the idea of dating him, for real.

Eddie looks at his phone as Chrissy does his makeup, "Eyes up, Munson."

Steve hasn't responded, but he's probably asleep. Eddie puts his phone on the table, "Yes, ma'am."

She laughs, and gets him ready for another night of a constant loop of visitors to the maze. They've done this for a few years now, and they're all good at it, and it's not bad seasonal work. It helps pay the bills for the band to keep trying, stay plugging along. 

Eddie knows they aren't gonna make it big, not now, that window has closed. But they still make music together, good music he thinks, so taking on odd jobs to still do that has been worth it. 

Maybe after thirty he'll have to settle down, but for right now? He's just having fun.

"Tell me about the boy," she sing-songs, then changes her mind, "No, keep your mouth shut until I'm done with your face."

Eddie laughs, and keeps his mouth shut, as directed.

"But tell me later, though."

And he nods. He definitely will. Gareth's sick of hearing about Steve, so if he has a fresh pair of ears to listen to him yap, he's definitely all-in on that.

It's actually gotten chilly tonight, but when the second-to-last trailer full of guests pulls around the corner at quarter to two, Eddie sees Steve sitting next to a woman that has to be Robin. She just looks exactly like what Eddie imagined every time Steve's told a story about her. And she looks very grumpy about being awake in the middle of the night.

Eddie is stoked, and rushes around from Gareth to Jeff to Goodie to Chrissy, pointing out Steve, and then hurrying back to his spot for the last trailer. They don't really care all that much. He's sure they're happy for him, but they definitely just want to finish doing their jobs and get the fuck out of here for the night.

Steve's lingering by the employees only sign when Eddie exits backstage.

"You came," Eddie says, makeup hastily scrubbed off his face. It's a big no-no to interact with the guests in character, even if it's the guy you've been playing phone tag with for the last two weeks. He wasn't sure Steve would stay, but he did, and Eddie's fucking thrilled to see him.

"This is Robin," Steve says, slinging his arm over her shoulders.

Eddie starts to say hi, when the door bangs closed behind him, and he turns to see Chrissy on her way out.

"Night, Eddie," Chrissy says, as she passes by them, her dirty dead cheerleader costume slung over her arm.

"Was she the cheerleader?" Robin hisses, and Eddie nods. 

"Hey, Chris, wait!" he hollers, and drags her closer, making introductions. He's no dummy, he knows what that question entailed, and he has no problem playing a hint of matchmaker. And if they're talking, that'll give Eddie some time alone with Steve. 

The fact that Steve showed up at all, late at night, was a sacrifice of sleeping time. Eddie knows it, and appreciates it. So, he won't keep him. He'll send him back home to bed, or straight to the bakery, wherever he needs to be next, so he can get ready to make the donuts as Steve likes to say. 

"I'm glad you came," Eddie says, running his hand up Steve's arm. 

"Of course, I couldn't resist the opportunity to see you as the evil undead."

Eddie grins at him. He really likes this guy. 

"The bats were really believable."

Eddie grins, and tells him all about how he helped design them with his friends. They built the pulley system in Gareth's garage on the cheap, but it works, and well.

Steve nods along, then pulls Eddie into the darkness, where the floodlights don't reach. Eddie goes, willingly, sliding his hands along Steve's waist. 

And then they're kissing, and Eddie couldn't be more fucking thrilled. 

Steve is interested. And Eddie is definitely interested.

Steve's tongue slides along his, and Eddie squeezes him tighter, pulling Steve into his body, wanting to be closer. As close as they can get here in this dark alleyway. 

When Steve pulls back, he presses his forehead to Eddie's, and Eddie tries to look into his eyes this close-up.

"I've wanted to do that since the orchard," Steve says.

"Fuck, me too," Eddie admits. He'd like to do more, too, but Robin is yelling that her alarm is going off, meaning Steve's got to get to the bakery. 

Steve's day is just beginning, and Eddie's is just ending. Their schedules couldn't be more out of sync if they tried.

But Eddie reluctantly lets him go, they say their goodbyes, but Eddie is already scheming how he'll get to see Steve next.

The next morning, Eddie forces himself out of bed at a normal hour so he can go to the bakery. Gareth follows him to the van, tagging along without an invite, but Eddie doesn't care, as long as he can see Steve, it's all good.

Steve's behind the counter, and he grins when he sees Eddie come through the front door, "Hey!"

"Hey, yourself," Eddie says back, looking at the handwritten menu board. "Suggestions are welcome."

And Steve just laughs, and then produces a piece of cobbler that looks sticky and delicious.

"Sold," Eddie replies, taking the plate from him, and then nodding towards Gareth, "and whatever he wants. This is Gareth."

Gareth is looking in the glass case, paying no attention to either of them.

"So, this is the famous Eddie?" a girl who is not Robin asks, sidling up beside Steve at the counter.

"That's Eddie," Steve says with a smile, then introduces her, "This is Di."

She makes a shooing motion with her hands, "Go. Sit with him for a minute. I'll watch the counter," Di offers, pushing Steve from behind the register, and Eddie's grateful.

"Thanks, Di," Steve answers, pulling his apron off over his head, showing a strip of bare skin as it goes. His stomach is hairy and Eddie gulps, probably audibly, like he's in a cartoon.

He wants, he wants, he wants.

Steve picks up his coffee mug, and grabs a piece of cobbler for himself.

"Hey kid, head's up," Eddie says, and Gareth looks just in time to catch Eddie's wallet as Eddie tosses it to him. "Pick something and pay the nice lady."

"Yeah, yeah," Gareth says, and goes right back to looking at all his options.

Steve leads Eddie over to a table in the corner, and they sit and get to talk face-to-face, for the first time since their first afternoon here. Yeah, sure, he saw Steve last night, that was just a brief hi and bye.

It's nice to sit across from him again, and even nicer when Steve slides his hand forward, lacing their fingers together. Miraculously Gareth doesn't come over and cockblock him like the little shit that he is, instead lingering by the counter. 

Eddie looks back at Steve.

"You know, I don't really date," Steve admits, "I mean, the bakery hours keep my nightlife non-existent. And I've gotten used to that. But I really like you."

Eddie feels his cheeks heat up. Is he blushing? That's absurd, but he thinks it's probably true. He likes Steve. A lot. And he can deal with weird hours for Steve, he's damn certain. Dates at three in the afternoon? Awesome. He'll have just rolled out of bed a couple hours before that half the time anyway.

"But, I'd like to try. If you want to," Steve says, and Eddie nods.

"Yeah, I want to. I really like you, too."

Then the phone rings, and it's something Steve has to take, and Eddie glances at him one more time before he holds open the door with the jangly bell for Gareth to exit.

Steve's still looking at him, watching him go, so Eddie winks, and it makes Steve smile.

There's no plan, but Eddie knows he's gonna date the shit out of Steve Harrington.

Turns out, the whole dating with opposite schedules idea was way easier said than done. Eddie works every weekend night, all fall long, because that's the busy time. He works some weeknights, too, but those are easier to trade around for with his friends. So, weekends are definitely out, and he needs date ideas that don't mess with Steve's sleep schedule.

He's reading the paper that Wayne left on the coffee table as he sits on the couch and eats his cereal, when he sees that the local high school football team is playing next week, but that's on Friday. Duh. Friday Night Lights. Even he understands enough about football to get that that's a reference to the night they play. He may have needed three senior years to graduate, but he's not that dense. He keeps reading, and sees that the JV football team plays on Tuesday and the junior high team on Thursday. That's an idea. He doesn't really know what that means, but he knows who would.

"Hey, Wayne!" he yells, and when Wayne rounds the corner Eddie asks, "Tell me. Which is a better game to attend: JV or Junior High?"

"Game of what? Tiddlywinks? Dragons and Dragons?" Wayne prods, teasing him. Eddie damn well knows Wayne remembers what DnD is. He bought enough of those books for him in high school, it has to be seared into his old man brain. 

But Wayne glances over at him from his recliner he's just sat down in, waiting for Eddie to spill it.

Eddie lowers his voice and mumbles, "Football."

"What'd you say, I didn't hear you?" Wayne drawls, but he's grinning like he heard exactly what Eddie said.

"Shut up, old man," Eddie teases, "I'm sort of dating a guy. He likes football. Used to play. I thought it might be nice to take him to a game, and I obviously can't do a Friday night game this year because of work. But I thought Steve might like to go to one of these other games?"

"Steve, huh? This Steve have a last name?" Wayne asks, and Eddie rolls his eyes. Wayne doesn't need to try to vet this guy like he did every single person Eddie dated in high school. He's a grown man now, almost thirty. He picks better these days.

At least, he hopes he does.

"Harrington," Eddie answers, "and you're ignoring the question. JV? Junior High?" Then points his finger at the newspaper, crinkling it, "Or the local flag football team plays on Sundays. Help a guy out. Jeez."

But Wayne is just staring at him, mouth slightly open. Eddie's never seen him this shocked in his life. And Eddie did some wild shit in high school that Wayne swears made him go gray and bald.

"Yes, yes, I'm willing to go to a game. We're all shocked. Make fun. I have it coming. But close your mouth before you catch flies."

"No. Just. Steve Harrington, Ed? You, my nephew, who hates all sports sight unseen, is dating Steve Harrington? Heisman Trophy winner as a sophomore, that Steve Harrington?"

Eddie just shrugs, "I don't know about all that. He runs a bakery."

Wayne lets out a breathy laugh, "Right. He runs a bakery."

"He does," Eddie confirms. 

Wayne picks up his phone, puts on his reading glasses so Eddie knows he's serious, and finally turns the screen towards Eddie, "This your boy?"

Eddie smiles. He's younger, but yeah, that's definitely Steve, "Yep, that's Steve."

"I'll be damned, I knew he was from Indiana, but I didn't expect him to come back to our neck of the woods to run a bakery."

"You know my boyfriend, Wayne?" Eddie teases, lilting his voice, and batting his eyes.

"Anybody that followed football in the last decade knows of your boyfriend, Ed. He was gonna be a star, a franchise quarterback, for any team lucky enough to draft him."

Steve had said he wasn't sure if he was good enough to go pro, and now Eddie is doubting the validity of that, "He said he wasn't sure if he was good enough to make it pro."

Wayne laughs, "That boy would've been a first round pick. He's just being humble."

"Oh," Eddie says, "that's pretty cool. It's too bad he got hurt, then."

"It is," Wayne agrees.

"If he was as good as you say, why didn't he just go pro right out of high school?" Eddie asks, thinking this over. He's really not sure why you'd take the risk playing college football before you could make the big bucks.

"That's not how the NFL draft works. You have to be three years past graduation from high school before you're eligible. And what else are you gonna do for those three years, if not play ball at college?"

"Oh," Eddie says, then adds, "Good thing I wasn't good at football. I'd have been an old man trying to enter the draft."

Wayne laughs. It wasn't so funny when Eddie was bearing down on twenty-one and still trying to get that damn diploma, but they can laugh about it now. Water under the bridge.

Eddie then asks, "So, about the game…"

Wayne steered him towards the JV game, but told him over and over that all of the options were beneath the level of football that Steve Harrington was used to watching, or playing. 

Eddie decides to take him anyway.

Eddie buys the four dollar tickets at the gate from a mom sitting at a card table with a metal cash box in front of her, a button with her son's face pinned to her coat. He gives her a ten, and tells her to keep the change when she holds it in her hand, unmoving.

But that's just because she's staring at Steve, kind of starry-eyed. He is attractive, that's undeniable, and Eddie puffs up a little that he's the one getting to date him tonight.

Then Steve is accosted for pictures no less than seven times on the way to the stands, and Eddie wonders if he's made a mistake here. He didn't think it through, didn't understand that Steve would be known here.

Eddie escapes to the concessions stand, and when he comes back, arms full, there's a group of kids surrounding Steve. And Steve's engaged, and giving them what they want, clearly, but this isn't a good date. This seems more like he's trotted Steve out for the wolves. 

Everyone else finally clears out as kickoff happens, leaving them alone, and Eddie takes his seat next to Steve on the bleachers.

"Uh, did I fuck this up?" Eddie whispers, handing Steve a tray of nachos.

"No. No way, this is great," Steve reassures, a big smile on his face.

"I truly didn't understand that you'd be recognized here," Eddie says, "I don't know anything about sports. I'm in over my head. I just thought, well, maybe you'd like to see a game. Even if it's just kids."

"This is great, Eddie. You did great, honest," Steve says. "I'm not recognized outside of football. Don't worry. This isn't an everyday occurrence. This is a very isolated incident, because of where we are. Some of these kids probably watched me play. I'm not that old."

Eddie laughs, some of the tension draining out of his shoulders. He definitely didn't want to make Steve uncomfortable.

And if he is, he never lets on. Instead, Steve explains the game to him as it goes, and it's a slow enough pace that Eddie thinks maybe he's understanding it. The football Steve had been watching on TV in the bakery had moved so fucking fast he had no hopes of following, not even when there was an instant replay to slow it down.

Steve's never seen these kids play before, but he can read them all like open books, calling plays, calling probable results before they happen. And he's right. Nine times out of ten, he's right. 

He should probably coach football. But maybe that's too painful? Eddie's definitely not gonna bring it up. 

They leave at halftime, and Eddie's sure it's only partly because Steve has to be up in less than eight hours. 

He still thinks it went well, because Steve leans over in the van and kisses him.

Eddie suddenly feels like he can't feel his face, even as he kisses back, hand cupping Steve's face, just wanting to touch him.

Eddie likes him so goddamn much, and as Steve pulls away, Eddie feels like they are no longer struggling to make a connection. They've done it. They're getting there.

Over the next few weeks, they have half-dozen more half-dates. Eddie catches the first quarter of a college football game, Steve's alma mater, on the television at the bakery with him before having to head to the maze for the night.

A few days later they grab fast food in Steve's car, and Eddie's definitely trying hard not to make a mess. Steve's car is nice, and Eddie's only used to his shitty van.

They carve out an hour to just lay in Steve's bed, kissing and touching, and eventually fucking before they need to part ways again.

Eddie wonders if they'll ever get to actually sleep in the same bed with shifts this ass-backwards from each other.

Spooky season comes and goes, and Eddie's back looking for some kind of other temporary work. He's complaining to Steve that nobody is hiring, even when they say they're hiring.

"Come work at the bakery," Steve says, "then maybe we'll finally get to see each other for longer than an hour at a time."

Eddie starts to say no, starts to deflect in a knee-jerk way, but then decides he'd really like to do that, "Really?"

"Really," Steve confirms. 

"I don't know how to bake, you know that," Eddie teases.

"You're not coming there to bake. Please, no. But you could run the register. Right?"

And Eddie thinks he'd like to do just that, so he nods and nods.

So, they work together, and sometimes go home with each other after. Both of them dozing on the couch while Wayne watches football, or cuddling up at Steve's place while Robin whines about it being her turn to cook dinner.

And Eddie ends up loving Robin, because working with her at the bakery might be almost as fun as it is working with Steve. She's not there all the time, but when she is, they run the front together, while Steve and Di have the back, and it's the least work feeling work he's ever done.

She's funny, and snarky, and loves Steve so much Eddie can feel it rolling off of her in waves. She kept him from getting hurt further. She made sure he'd be okay, even if Eddie's sure Steve felt anything but at the time.

He talks up Steve's baked goods, upselling easily, turning a half-dozen box into a full dozen more often than not. Eventually he sneaks around while Steve isn't looking, and hangs his own picture on the wall, labeled underneath as Employee of the Month, as a joke.

When Steve finally notices it, it stays. Eddie's part of the place, now. And he couldn't be happier about that. Harrington's is fun, and relaxed, and he's honestly never gotten this invested in a job before. He wants it to succeed, because he wants Steve, and the rest of his friends, to succeed. And yeah, he's sure Steve has a lot to do with that, but still, the fact that he's enjoying it is a bonus he hadn't foreseen coming.

He helps clean up every afternoon, so they can get out of there faster, together. Today, with the cold winter air blowing, snow flurries are blustering around, stinging his face as they hit. So, he hugs Steve from behind as he locks the back door in the alley where they park, hiding his face in Steve's coat.

"Hello to you, too," Steve flirts, and Eddie smirks as soon as he realizes this is gonna be a short afternoon, because when they get home, they are definitely going straight to bed. 

And they do just that. It's cold outside, but the warm winter sunlight is pouring through the windows, made brighter by the snow on the ground, and Eddie's in love.

Steve looks fucking gorgeous, the light hitting him that way, letting that glow he always has about him shine through from the inside out.

Eddie runs his fingers over his body, his athletic frame that sees no playing time, anymore. He runs to keep in shape, but Eddie thinks he'd run too if he had that kind of albatross slung around his neck. If he'd lost the thing he loved most, the thing he'd hung his whole hat on.

If he'd lost possible rings and millions of dollars.

Steve's almost twenty-nine. He'd be hitting his peak, his best years of play.

But Steve's happy. He's not a bitter guy. He loves his bakery, and he loves his friends and-

"What's," Steve breathes out, easing up on his pace, "what's with the face?"

"I love you," Eddie blurts out.

Steve smiles, so fucking wide it feels like it cracks open Eddie's chest, "Well, don't look so sad about it then."

And Eddie laughs, reaching up to grasp Steve's hips, helping him regain his momentum. The spiral he was headed down on Steve's behalf, broken.

Steve doesn't want Eddie dwelling on the past. Especially if he doesn't do it himself. There are no pity parties happening in Steve Harrington's orbit.

"I love you, too. Now fuck me like you're not gonna cry about it."

Eddie huffs out a laugh, so fucking charmed and delighted by this man that he loves. He'll fuck him all right. 

"Hold on then, big boy," Eddie teases, and thrusts upwards, carrying the weight of Steve with him off the bed.

Maybe instead, they'll just hit their primes together.

Eddie starts to become a morning person against his will as the months wear on, and Steve will have to pay for that, eventually. But not today.

No, today he's more than fine with going to bed at eight-thirty, dicking down his boyfriend, then afterwards both of them will be sound asleep by nine. 

Gareth is hanging around the bakery more and more, and before Eddie realizes it, Steve and Di have taught Gareth how to bake. And he's somehow good at it. Gareth eventually weasels his way into a full-time job, too. Which gets Eddie's wheels turning. Maybe by next fall, Eddie can surprise Steve with tickets to an NFL game to watch his friend play, because together they are slowly building up enough of a staff to run the store in their absence.

It doesn't have to just be Steve anymore. It can be all of them.

Next fall, Eddie thinks.

And he smiles.

He's planning ahead, now. Planning for a future, one that he intends to share with Steve.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddie-spooktober to follow along with the fun! 🍎

[lamnwar]

Rivals in bed // Aomine Daiki x Fem!Reader x Kagami Taiga

MDNI 18+ knb kinktober entry!!

A/N: I can't even say I was horny writing that, I was just being a FREAK (I desperately need to be stucked between aokaga I'm beggiiiing)

Context: You've got a masterplan for your two hot friends and they're clearly not prepared for any of it.

Warnings: Threesome, nipple play, blowjob, pussy eating, double penetration (includes anal), rough sex, multiple orgasms, that's all I think?

For as long as you’ve known Daiki Aomine, he’s always been all fussy when you bring up your long-time friend Taiga. Well, it could be a lot of things, really. You’re well aware that they were rivals during their high school basketball days, but that was years ago so surely Daiki has grown out of it, right? Right?

Well, that’s merely the beginning of it. You know for a fact that all this attitude when you bring up the red head is a screen of smoke, truly, because deep down he does like him to a certain extent. But as if being rivals on the court isn’t enough, he can clearly see the way you are with Taiga. You don’t hide it at all, with your giggles and touchiness, or the way you always sit so close to him. He may not be the brightest man, but Daiki can be observant when he wants to. So, he never hesitates to retaliate in his own ways – the hands on your waist, or the not-so-subtle kisses on your neck. Yeah, it’s not like Daiki at all to let Taiga win.

Not on the court, not with you.

And what about you, in all that? That is the question that neither of these clueless men has ever asked. Unbeknownst to them, that situation might be the best entertainment you’ve ever had. There’s something thrilling with watching this rooster fight, two men who ravel in confronting each other because they have yet to understand that there is no stronger one. They can beg you to choose one of them, but you’d be stupid to. Objectively speaking Daiki and Taiga might be the hottest guys you know, so there’s no logical reason for you to opt out of a situation where you can have both all for you.

It can all be read in the sly smile you sport on your face on this week’s movie night, with your head on one’s shoulder and your legs resting on the other’s lap. You shamelessly tempt the both of them, with that tight tank top that you know Daiki loves to see you in, and the cutest shorts that Taiga chose for you that one time you took him shopping. It can make you laugh, knowing that you’ve got both wrapped around your fingers, waiting impatiently to know which one of them will win you over – and really, the answer is none and both at the same time. Not everything is a competition, that is one fact that can hardly be comprehended by these two thick heads. Yet, here they are, minds occupied by the same thought: who will you choose to fuck, at last?

And once again, the answer is quite simple. It all starts with your soft kisses on Daiki’s neck, making him purr like an animal in need, while you feel Taiga’s grasp on your thigh tighten almost painfully as he watches your exchanges with his rival. How can he sit quietly and let those hands that aren’t his roam your sides and hug your waist?

“Fuck, get a room you two” he groans, his annoyance blatant in his tone.

You chuckle, your feet caressing his thigh with the kind of softness that confuses him. He’s truly baffled by your every move – you want him, yet you don’t. Always lighting a fire in the pit of his stomach but never letting the flames consume all of him. For a man so used to being the in control, it is fairly unsettling to find himself in such predicament. But god, you are such a hot thing that he cannot retreat and let it go.

“What’s that, Taiga? Don’t be jealous” you laugh softly. “I have enough lovin’ for the both of you.”

“Not sharing you with that doofus” Daiki clicks his tongue, which amuses you even more.

You lean away from both, a playful pout painted on your pretty face. How can they not get aroused by such a succubus? Eyes innocent, safe for the mischievous glint in them – it feels like a sin to stare into them, but they both can’t help it. It’s an ache that trails their entire body, all the way to their cocks that just need to feel you, even if it’s just once.

“What if I want you both? Can’t you even do it for me?”

Fuck. You know how to play your cards well, because that’s the one thing that can get both of them to put their egos aside and fold already. It’s almost pitiful how easy you get them to eat right in the palm of your hands, making them puppets that you toy with at your whim. For you? Shit, for you, they’d even jump from a bridge.

“You… you mean a threesome?” asks the red-haired man with a slight blush on his face.

“Uh-huh”, you nod, the sweetest smile on your lips, “call me greedy but there’s nothing that I want more than my two favourite boys.”

“You’re a freak, doll!”

Daiki’s laugh echoes around the room, the grin on his face being anything but a good omen. You’ve figured that he’d be the one who’d be more willing to agree to your plan. From time to time, he only thinks with his dick; and his dick has been in probation for so long waiting for you. So yeah, fuck that, he will have a threesome with his longtime rival if that means he finally gets a taste of you.

“Think of it as a compliment” you point, settling back between the two Adonis. “I literally can’t think of any other guys I want just as much as you two.”

“That’s insane…” Taiga lets out a sigh, but that doesn’t stop you.

You’ve known him long enough to know that the intention is there, and honestly, it was only going to take that long before someone, at last, tap into his freakiest side. It only takes your pretty face and your sweet voice in his ear to work the magic. Kisses at the corner of his lips when you purr your spell.

“Say what you will, I know the idea makes you hard.”

He can’t bother to deny it – he’s been longing for you, so much that the little that you give him is way too much already. You feel your clit ache at the sight of the tent in his loose pants, and it gets worse when you look back at the dark-skinned beauty that stares at you with a carnal smile. He is a hungry man, and you are the meal he’s been waiting for like a man starving.

Here you are, letting your lips do all the convincing with Taiga. He can’t help but fall for your kisses, the taste of your tongue against his. He’s been waiting for so long just to get that much, strong body pushing you back against Daiki. You groan, falling against his toned chest as his hands go straight to your breasts.

“Fuck…”

You’re a dream, truly. The best tits he’s ever touched, soft and warm in his hold. Head buried in the crook of your neck as he gropes you shamelessly, while another man messily makes out with you. You let out a giggle, euphoric from the scene. That might be the result of months of work, trying to get them both so deep into you that they cannot refuse you a thing. Isn’t that the summum of pleasure, being nestled between two men that crave you like flowers crave the sun and rivers crave the rain?

You can’t help the moan that leaves your throat when Daiki tugs at your nipples, his malicious fingers having found the route to your sensitive buds; and feeling Taiga’s erection press against your thigh doesn’t help either. You can only lay back and let them have their fun. Two pairs of hands that roam your body in full worship, taking in every inch, every curve. You grind back against them, panties soaked from the god-sent feeling of two dicks poking at you.

“Babe, you’re making me so fucking hard I might just come from seeing you” you hear a grunt in your ear.

You laugh, taking in the compliment. Who would have thought that it can be so easy to make them fall? You’re amused, shamelessly expressing your joy as Daiki pulls your top over your breasts, letting his hands squeeze and tease them as if he’s never touched a woman before. But what really gets you is Taiga’s hungry mouth, previously on your neck and now wrapped around your nipple to give it a hard suck. You gasp, surprised to even see your body being so sensitive. Daiki sucks his teeth, one of his hands leaving your breast to find the other man’s face.

“D’you really gotta take what’s mine?”

“Like you got all rights reserved on her tits.”

“Should I pity you? Even your dumbass knows it’ll take nothing from me to make her come.”

You sit there, stuck in another one of their childish dispute – although this one might be a new one. You can’t place in any word, watching them fight while they touch you, body squirming and mind confused.

“Bet your ass, idiot” groans Taiga. “I’ll make her come first.”

“You fucking…” strong hands hoist you up by the waist, and before you can even figure what is happening, you find yourself thrown other the basketball player’ shoulder as his rival trails behind you. “Game on, but just know that you can’t beat me on that field.”

You’re thrown on your bed, the two men rushing to strip in an almost comical way before they come back to you. Taiga’s fingers hook in the waistband of your shorts, pulling them down after you give him an eager nod. He watches as you give them the delicious sight of your pussy in those pretty panties, a visible wet spot at the centre.

“Drenched already? That’s sweet.” He chuckles, kissing the shell of your ear as curious fingers run across the spot. “Say, I did that to you?”

You hear a cackle beside you, eyes meeting Daiki’s cock before you get them to look at his face.

“That’s my doing, yeah.”

“Actually – “

Your sentence is cut short by the feeling of the fresh air against your pussy, making you realise that you’ve been discarded of your panties. You look between your legs, finding Taiga’s cheek squished against the plump of your thigh while he looks at your cunt. Gorgeous, he thinks, watching your honey-soaked folds, and that cute hole that begs for some touch.

“Say that you want me to eat you out.”

You nod without hesitation, huffing out an impatient “yeah”, to which he laughs softly. As if it’s not enough that you are the most beautiful and sexy being he’s ever encountered, you have to be the cutest too. You bite your lip, his hot breath fanning over your erected clitoris. Prayers run through your mind for time to pass at once, and let you feel his mouth against your cunt. The first stroke of his tongue makes your eyelashes flutter, head thrown back to meet Daiki again.

“Say you wanna suck my cock, too.”

Damn. How can you say overwise and don’t lie? Your eyes roam over his length, and you find yourself almost salivating at the sight of what might be the biggest dick you’ve ever seen. Thick and long, so fucking hard that it feels immoral not to take care of it.

“Of course I do” you mewl, your hand finding its way to his shaft.

Your caresses are torturous, yet so divine. He swears, unconsciously pushing his hips closer to your face. Your giggles fall on his angry tip, just a mere second before you wrap your lips around it. He swears, pushing into your mouth as slowly as he can, but hell, Daiki Aomine has never been a patient man.

You groan, the movements of your tongue being mirrored by Taiga’s between your leg. You can’t concentrate on either – partly drunk on the taste of the blue-haired man’s cock and partly melting under the red-haired man’s tongue. It’s insane and overwhelming, burying Taiga’s face further in your cunt so he can quench his thirst with your nectar, all while you drool on Daiki’s dick.

You make a mess, saliva dripping down your chin and arousal dripping down your thighs. Taiga can’t even feel a thing except your exquisite taste on his tastebuds and the pain of his erection in his boxers. Oh, how he wishes to get his cock so deep into you that it’s impossible to pull out. It doesn’t help when you squirm and whimper, unable to restrain your upcoming orgasm. He groans against your cunt, sucking on your clit to take you where he wants you to go.

“Fuck! Ah…” you mumble around Daiki’s cock, making him twitch in your mouth.

There’s a blank in your mind for a few seconds, and next thing you know, you’re swallowing a load of cum while you try to get your pussy away from the starving man between your legs.

“D’you come for me? Shit, too soon. I wanna feast on that pussy” Taiga grunts, reluctantly leaving the comfort of being between your legs.

Daiki chuckles, pulling his dick out of your mouth. It’s a drunk laugh, one that doesn’t find any justification. He surprises himself with how much he’s let out down your throat, but nothing amazes him more than you.

“Sweet mouth” he coos, leaving a kiss on your swollen lips, “she’s a swallower, huh?”

Taiga scoffs, finding a land of agreement with his rival. There is no doubt that you are a special one. Your taste lingers on his tongue, a drug that he already craves but he has no choice but to hold back to let you get over your orgasm. You face is a whiteboard on which your sensations write their names.

Pleasure. Desire. Overwhelmed. Aroused. Euphoric. Hungry. Desperate. Please, for fuck’s sake, can they dick you down already?!

You whimper needily the moment Taiga finally leaves his underwear to lay somewhere on the floor of your room, giving you a full view of what God gifted him with. It’s longer than Daiki’s, maybe not as thick, but surely monstruous. Enough to make both your mouth and your cunt salivate. You are high on your lust, hands stroking him as you look between them both.

“Say what you wanna Taiga, but I’m craving that pussy more than you ever can.”

“Fuck off” he grunts when you run your thumb over his tip, “either way we gotta find a way for this to work.”

The other man hums in agreement, his eyebrows furrowed as he seems deep in thoughts. To be fair, he’s never found himself in a situation where he has to share a pussy with another guy, let alone his biggest competitor. For all he cares, he’ll take you right here and now and have things go his way. But this isn’t about him, no, it’s about you. He can see clearly in your eyes that you want both of them to fill you up, and it’ll be incredibly selfish to ask you to choose.

“Can you take both, pretty?” he asks, tilting his face towards his.

The attentive look in his eyes takes you aback – he’s never looked so considerate, yet you can’t help but curse at yourself. Surely, in other circumstances, you would have replied yes to his question. But you have to face the fact that these two have the biggest dicks you’ve ever seen, and it’ll be insane to even try to take both at the same time.

“No…” you shake your head with a pout, “but I have another hole, don’t I?”

Your response gets the two men to exchange a startled look. Have they heard you well? But there is no denying it, you look all serious about this. An incredulous laugh leaves Taiga’s lips as he looks at your face.

“No shit… I’ve always wanted that ass of yours.” He chuckles, fingers running through your hair tenderly. “You sure about that?”

“Yeah. I can take it, not my first time.”

“Hm, I bet it isn’t.”

They smile at you, before you find yourself flipped to your stomach. You’re lost for a minute, wondering what’s going on before you look over your shoulder, finding them both looking at your ass. It is, indeed, a tempting sight. Those cheeks so plump, and that tight little hole that glistens from your arousal that has dripped down to it. It’s so tempting, that it feels like a blessing that you’ve even brought the subject on the table.

“Can I? Gotta prep you if you’re gonna take either of us there.”

“Please…”

Your begging doesn’t happen in vain, as you feel a thick finger slowly push past the rim of your hole, the sensation foreign yet familiar. It’s a particular sting that progressively fades to pleasure, making your back arch and your ass push back to meet the finger that thrusts into you.

“You have lube, pretty?”

You nod, pointing to your bedside table so Daiki can get the bottle out. It’s all a daze before you find yourself lifted on the man’s body, Taiga settling behind you. Two hard and leaking cocks pressed against each of your holes, waiting for the opportunity to push inside of you and make you feel good. You used to be the one making all the decisions, yet here you are one the verge of begging for any of them to stick it in. Your desperate sighs don’t fall on deaf ears, the kisses on your face and on your back easing you up before you finally feel Daiki’s tip push between your folds.

“Ngh! Fuck…”

His moves are languid and slow, the harsh grip of his hands on your hips driving you insane. He can’t help but dig deeper in your tight walls, just so he can see your tits jiggle in his face as you take him. You gasp, your pleasure multiplied when you feel Taiga’s lube covered dick at your other entrance, painfully teasing. You whine, need tainting all your sweet noises and it doesn’t take long before he finally fills your tight hole, watching you moan like a slut from the inches he’s been giving you.

Here you are, both holes stretched like they’ve never been before, as they both ram into you in a lewd song of groans and moans. You are losing your mind, fantasies that you’ve been having for months around your two friends finally unfolding in a reality that feels way better than you could have imagined. Your sweat dripping on Daiki’s skin while Taiga’s hot breath kisses your nape.

“Fuck that Daiki, I’m gonna fill her up” you hear the red-haired man groan behind you.

“Jesus, you’re not the only one… shit, pussy too good…”

“Yeah! Please… want you to come inside of me.”

Your shameless mewl is almost all it takes to bring them both over the edge. You can feel yourself on the brink of explosion, your body aching so good that you might pass out from it. You are properly fucked, impaled on two of the best dicks to ever exist. Meanwhile, it’s a race to who gets to fill you with cum the fastest. You’re quickly washed over by a mind-blowing orgasm, mind lost in an intoxicating fume of lust. You can barely process it that their thrusts become messier. You are squished between their bodies, crying their names when they finally burst inside of you.

The moment is followed by a silence that is only bothered by your tired pants. The moment they pull out leaves you feeling empty all of the sudden. But your heart is quickly filled when they pull you in their arms, sweet caresses to your overworked body as praises fall in your ear.

“So... who won this one?” one of them asks.

You laugh tiredly, leaving two slaps on both of their chests.

“I did, dumbasses.”

[kikiyoomis]

"what do even you like about me?"

sakusa is taken aback from your sudden question. the two of you were laying on bed, individually scrolling through your respective phones just before bed. there was nothing during the day that would've suggested your change in mood.

sakusa shuts his phone off and places it on the nightstand beside him before pulling you into his embrace.

"like? baby i'm so in love with you that there's nothing that i only 'like' about you," sakusa says while he buries his face into your neck.

"yea but... i'm not even that... special. i'm not super pretty or talented or smart or-" you say before the words are caught in your throat and tears starts to form.

"i feel like i just got lucky. like... why would you settle for someone like me?" you whisper.

you've had these thoughts for a while. before they only came up when you were going through a rough time with your self-confidence but recently, with sakusa's booming popularity as a highly anticipated rookie in the v league, what was left of your confidence completely shattered.

you were happy for him of course. you've been rooting for him ever since he started getting offers to play various division 1 teams. but now that your boyfriend was placed into the spotlight, you could also see all of the people who could easily take your spot as his lover. after all he had talented volleyball players, models, actors, idols and so many high status celebrities talking about him. surely he would find someone better than you who, in comparison to him, has amounted to virtually nothing.

"who said that?" sakusa asked concerned written all over his face. he sits up and pulls you into his embrace but you turn away from him.

"nobody..." you trail off, not wanting to admit that the person who put these ideas into your head was in fact yourself.

"please tell me what's going on. it can't be nobody putting those useless thoughts into your head," sakusa says soothingly as he twirls your hair around his finger gently.

"its just that... "you start but you cut yourself off. "it's nothing."

"it's not nothing. not if it has you this sad," sakusa says and you feel compelled to cry your heart out to him. to tell him about all of your worries and doubts. but what if it burdens him? he already has enough on his plate. the more you thought about it however, the less you could keep it in.

"i can't figure out why you would love someone like me. aren't i just bringing you down? sooner or later you'll find someone you love more and you won't even spare me a glance when leave. and every time i think about you leaving me i get so scared but i can't even be mad about it because if i were you i would leave me too," you finally say, tears falling down your cheeks as you finally verbalized the thoughts you held for years.

"i would never leave you. never in any lifetime of mine that i would leave you," sakusa says, trying to soothe you but your crying doesn't stop.

"i should've just stayed quiet and enjoyed my time as your s/o while it lasts. i shouldn't be this upset over the fact that you'll leave me because it's fated to happen."

sakusa pulls you into a tight embrace and as much as you want to push away, you give into his hug. he's whispering something but you can't make out what he's saying over your uneven breaths.

"y/n, i love everything about you. and i mean it. nobody, for the entirety of our relationship and before, ever came close." he brings his hands to you face and wipes your tears away with his thumb.

"but-"

"no buts."

after a few moments of silence, sakusa speaks up again.

"you know... the day you asked me out... i was going to confess to you the next day. i was so surprised, i had everything prepared and you come out of nowhere telling me that you liked me," sakusa says.

"but i was so happy you know? happier than winning the collegiate mvp. i mean for years i just had to silently deal with my feelings and who would've known that the person of my dreams is here in my arms. god, i don't even know where to start. i just... my feelings for you goes beyond love. i can't even form into words how hard my heart beats for you."

sakusa always had a way with words whenever the subject came to you. which is why you could never beat him in an argument no matter how ridiculous.

he leans in to you and places a soft kiss on your tear stained cheek. then he places another, following the trail before reaching your lips. he presses the kiss there a little longer than the gentle pecks he left on your cheeks.

you tilt your head slightly, letting your lips lock with his. you stay like that until one of you broke for air. you're greeted with sakusa's smiling face. a smile where it reaches his eyes and he's looking at you with such fondness you felt your heart skip a beat like it was the first time you had laid eyes on him.

"don't worry, i'll love you enough for the both of us. nobody will come between us, not even the stupid voices in your head." and just give me a couple weeks my love. a couple more weeks i'll prove to you how i love you by putting a ring on your finger.