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nationalharryleague · 4 years ago

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Two for the Show

Summary: Jeff plans for Harry’s new opening act to be more than that.

Genre: Famous Fake Dating!

Word Count: 17.1k!

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A/N: Hey babes!! This is something I’ve been working on since December now and I’m so fucking proud of it and how it turned out!!! It’s the longest thing I’ve ever written and I’m so so so excited to hear what everyone has to say!! Giant thank you’s go out to the incredible soph (@theharriediaries) and Lu (@meetmymouth) bc this never would have come to fruition without them and their help!! Please let me know what you think!! More of my writing can be found in my masterlist!! Happy reading y’all :)

***

Keeping appearances in the public eye is a delicate balance.

If Y/N was being honest with herself, everything Full Stop Management had ever suggested to her had worked, and very well. When they suggested her music took a more pop direction, they set her up with a team of fantastic producers and her music sales and popularity skyrocketed. And when they set up an appointment with a celebrity stylist to figure out her signature style, it worked; they turned her into the 1970’s inspired goddess she had always dreamed of being. Even the hours of media training that she had been put through worked, helping her learn how to bob and weave even the most intrusive of interview questions.

But this time, she thought they might be going too far.

“Jeff,” she began with a sigh and a doubtful shake of her head, “I don’t know about this one.”

“It’s just a few months before and during the tour,” explained the man sitting across from her at the long conference table. “You’ll be seen in public a few times to drum up publicity for the tour and your album, maybe do an interview or two together, and some light PDA.”

His expression was honest and earnest. In the time he had represented her, he had never done anything to her that didn’t help her succeed. It was not hard for her to believe that he just wanted what was best for her and her career.

But something kept holding her back.

“I just got my heart broken in the most public way,” she said softly, absentmindedly fiddling with the base of her ring finger where an engagement ring once sat. “Isn’t it a little too soon to be seen jumping back into a whirlwind romance?”

“I don’t think so. If anything, it will make James look even worse than he already does after what he did to you.” She had to admit the idea of a little revenge did perk her ears up a bit. “And it doesn’t hurt that Harry is so universally loved and known for being such a good guy.”

That was another reason she was skeptical of this entire plot. This was Harry Styles they were talking about; Harry fucking Styles. She had only met him once or twice while working out details for her to be the opening act for his upcoming tour, but she had been a big fan of his and idolized him since she was a teen. Just meeting him threw her inner 16 year old self for a loop, let alone trying to pretend she was in love with him.

In all honesty, it probably wouldn’t be too hard on her end once she got over being starstruck; she wasn’t so sure she still wasn’t kind of in love with him, or at least the version the public saw.

“Listen,” Jeff began again, his voice taking on a bluntness, “no one cares about the opening act. No one bought tickets to see you; they’re there to see Harry.” His words stung but she knew it was the truth. “But if they think you are a part of Harry’s life, they care about you too. And they will keep on caring about you after they leave the show.” Her apprehensiveness must have been clear on her face when he put on a gentle smile. “He’s a really nice person. I promise.”

“I know,” she breathed, a small pout finding its way to her lips. “Fine,” she conceded after a moment, throwing her hands up in the air dramatically to signal surrender. “I’m in.”

A triumphant grin spread across his face. “Thank you. I’ll go call Harry and tell him you’re down.” She watched as he got up from his chair and came towards her, pressing a brief and friendly kiss to the top of her head. “You won’t regret this, Y/N.”

“I better not, Azoff,” she chuckled while shaking her head slightly.

Soon she was alone in the conference room, basking in the light from the floor to ceiling windows that sat before her.

“What did I just get myself into?” she mumbled quietly to herself.

***

The answer to that question came two weeks later when she was sitting across a table from the Harry Styles at a small outdoor brunch spot in LA. Their meeting place was strategic, a small restaurant, not too flashy so it didn’t look like they were seeking attention, but outdoors where anyone could see. It was only a matter of time before he was recognized, and the sighting was almost guaranteed to be trending on Twitter only minutes later.

She couldn’t say that she wasn’t nervous. The inside of her mouth had been chewed raw and the bags under her eyes showed she had been having trouble sleeping in the nights leading up to their first appearance together. By the end of the day, she would most likely have countless articles written about her and possibly have millions of angry fangirls coming after her; even though their “relationship” wouldn’t be officially confirmed for a few weeks.

If all went to Jeff’s plan, she would become an A-lister overnight.

She stood in front of her closet for over an hour, trying on and taking off outfits before finally settling on her favorite pair of bright red corduroy flares and a crisp white textured halter top. She paired the outfit with a new pair of heeled leather boots. They were a flashy pair that were split down the middle, bright yellow on one side and white with yellow stars on the other, hoping Harry would appreciate the bold colors.

She meticulously did her makeup, sure to match her lipstick color exactly to the shade of her pants; and spent far too long in front of the mirror fussing with her hair, praying it would lay the way she wanted it to.

She knew that she was going to be photographed in some way shape or form, and with the fashion icon himself. She had to look good. He had been on the cover of Vogue for god’s sake.

When she finally arrived at the cafe, Harry sat quietly across from her. He looked casual, or as casual as Harry Styles gets. A yellow t-shirt, that was tight enough to look as if it was painted on, showed off his muscular chest and arms. His iconic tattoos illustrated his arms and she hoped he wouldn’t notice as she covertly tried to examine closely. He uncomfortably ran his palms down the legs of his high waisted denim flares that had been paired with his signature pearl necklace and ratty, but well loved, white vans.

And she couldn’t forget his rings. His signature gold ‘H’ and ‘S’ looked back at her as he gently grasped his flute filled to the brim with a mimosa, bringing it to his pink lips that were surrounded by the short stubble he had been wearing lately.

The pair sat in a slightly awkward silence, both seeming to down their mimosas quickly just because it was something to do with their hands and could occupy their lips so they didn’t have to talk.

To say she was panicking, wouldn’t be too much of an over exaggeration. She was sitting across from one of the world’s biggest stars, and as one of his biggest closeted fans. The things he could do for her career were astronomical and it was hard to ignore that, but she also had a hard time getting over the way his hair seemed to fall into perfect tousled curls and his dreamy green eyes.

She had been in love with him (or at least the idea of him) since she was 16. She couldn’t help it.

But the bottomless mimosas helped to break her anxiety, and apparently his as well, as they both began to feel a slight buzz.

“So how did Jeff end up talking you into this?” Harry eventually broke the silence, the alcohol lowering his naturally shy inhibitions just enough to kick off their conversation.

She let a playful eye roll take over her face before she began. “Oh Jeff,” she said jokingly, letting out a long sigh. “I was convinced somewhere in between ‘it’ll make your ex look bad’ and a stern ‘no one ever cares about the opening act,’” she chuckled, while sarcastically wagging her finger in the air, dramatically re-enacting his scolds.

He sucked in a breath through his teeth, letting out a dramatic ‘ouch.’ “He’s not always gentle, is he?” matching her chuckle.

“He knows where to hit you where it hurts,” she laughed, while nodding in agreement. “How did he convince you?”

“Coincidently, he also took a low blow involving my ex. I believe his words were ‘You wrote an entire album about her and haven’t dated anyone since and it makes you look kind of pathetic.’” He dramatically used air quotes and did his best impression of Jeff’s American accent. She couldn’t hold back the giggles that erupted from her.

“Oh my goodness,” she let out through slightly buzzed giggles, “you definitely win.”

From that point, their conversation began to flow more easily, easing her anxiety as she learned he was generally easy to talk to. He laughed at her jokes, and she laughed at his. He really did have the calming and disarming quality that people always said he had, like could melt down any walls and convince you to be honest with him, even if you didn’t really want to be. She was shocked to find that she wanted him to genuinely be a friend to her so badly. He was just so nice and such a good listener.

Their conversation took a turn when Harry’s super power of knowing when his picture was being taken kicked in. “Give me your hand,” he said to her, diverting from the pleasant conversation they had been having about their families. “Don’t look but there’s someone across the street taking photos of us.”

His instructions brought her back to the reality that they weren’t really friends and that all of this was for show.

She brought her hand up to meet his, strategically resting on the side of the table that faced the street, giving the camera the best view. The cool metal of his hand full of rings felt good against her skin that had been baking in the hot LA sun and he passed his thumb over her knuckles with faux affection.

She couldn’t help but feel a dishonest weight pulling on her heart. She knew everything was going to plan and this was all for the best, but it also felt slightly wrong. She played with her small heart shaped earring to distract herself from the sinking feeling.

“Harry,” she began, knowing the people across the street were out of ear shot. Her voice brought his attention from her hand back up to her eyes. “Does this feel wrong to you at all?”

“How so?”

“It just feels dishonest, like we’re lying to millions of people, our–well, mostly your fans.” She couldn’t help but correct herself.

His eyes softened at her words, like he was taking in the innocence she still held onto after only being in the industry for a short time, compared to his decade in the spotlight.

“I try not to think of it as lying,” he spoke slowly after a moment of thinking. He nodded along softly to punctuate his words. “When you think about all this as lying, it starts to weigh pretty heavy on you as a person. I try to be as honest as possible in my music and daily life, but that’s not always what people want to see. They want a show that will entertain them, and it is our job to give it to them.”

“I see,” she mused.

They sat together for another hour or so, allowing their small mimosa buzz to wear off enough for them to drive the short distances to their homes. The pair eventually found their way back to a comfortable conversation, but Harry’s comment about being in the public eye still weighed on her.

Suddenly, she wasn’t sure if all of this was worth it. Y/N was a master at dodging a question and turning the charm to 10 when it was needed, but she wasn’t a liar and she definitely wasn’t an actress. She hoped she (or Jeff) hadn’t bitten off more than she could chew with all of this.

Harry eventually walked her back to her car that was parked a few blocks away, and while she was sure he was doing it for the cameras, she didn’t doubt that he would have done it even if they weren’t there. He just seemed like that kind of guy to her; caring and trustworthy.

“Thank you for a very nice date, Harry,” she said, winking and chuckling along with the extra emphasis she put on the last word.

“My pleasure,” he smiled down at her. He moved along with her as she walked to the driver's side door, opening it for her like a perfect gentleman. The two stood close, his body hovering over her’s as they stood inside the open door. Her heart rose to her throat as he leaned down to her and pressed a gentle kiss to her burning cheek.

Y/N looked back up at him with rosy cheeks and a tightlipped bashful smile. She watched as he walked backward carefully, taking her hand that had been locked with his until he was too far and let it fall back to her body.

She situated herself in her drivers seat and was ready to leave when she heard a knocking on the passenger side window that startled her. Harry had bent himself over and was motioning for her to roll the window down. When she did, he leaned himself in, an honest look in his eyes.

“Before you go,” he said gently. “A word of advice from someone who had been in the public eye for a long time,” he spoke with a tender yet serious tone, eyes locking with hers. “When you go home today, don’t go on social media. People are mean, and it’s just going to hurt.” She nodded along with his words and watched as he pinched his bottom lip. “And when you inevitably can’t resist, text me if you need to talk about it.”

***

They must have done a good job putting on their show because within an hour of her returning home to her apartment, they were all anyone was talking about. Their names were trending worldwide #1 on Twitter. Streams of Y/N’s debut album were up by 800%, and even Harry’s streams had taken a considerable jump. Y/N had gained 40,ooo new followers and views on every interview she had ever done were steadily rising.

All was going according to Jeff’s plan.

Harry’s words circled her brain for hours. “Don’t go on social media,” she heard him say over and over again as she paced her apartment, only stopping to look at the phone sitting on the kitchen counter every so often.

She had taken a shower, done her hair, tried to watch TV, cooked herself dinner, and even tried to sit down and write a song; it all got her nowhere fast. The unknown was eating at her inside.

Y/N broke when she heard the small ding signaling she had gotten a text message. She had all but sprinted to see who it was, reunited with the outside world through her touch screen. Unsurprisingly, it was from Jeff; the message sent to her and an unknown number she assumed to be Harry’s.

Good job, kiddos., was all it read but there was a photo attached to the message. Her heart stopped while she waited for the photo to load, cursing her slow wifi in the process. After a few breathless moments, the photo came through.

It was a screenshot from the website of one of the biggest entertainment magazines in the country. A picture of him kissing her cheek was the front page of the website.

Harry Styles and Y/N Y/L/N Rumored To Be Music’s New Power Couple Ahead of Tour

She was honestly speechless. This was huge.

She would like to say the sheer shock blurred her judgement, but the curiosity just got the better of her. Harry’s words repeated over and over again in her head, telling her not to, even as her finger connected with the icon of the little blue bird.

She was the most talked about topic in the entire world, her name hovering in bold letters on the trending page. She did everything she could to not click on her name, but her fingers did it all on her own.

The first few tweets were nice. Someone said they liked her style and that they looked cute together as a couple. Another said that they had always enjoyed her music and that they were happy for them.

But as she scrolled, it became harsher and just mean. People commented on her weight, said she couldn’t sing, and criticized her personality as seeming fake and forced. Her eyes were locked on the screen, unable to look away, as her heart began to break and few tears began to roll.

It took one final, and the most painful, tweet for her to consider deleting her account completely. She swiped out of the app fast, but the words were still burned into her brain.

Y/N is using Harry, just like she used James before he got rid of her and found someone better.

The words knocked the wind out of her, pouring salt on an open wound that had yet to heal.

She also had the little blue bird for that heartbreak as well. When she opened the app two months ago, the first thing she saw was pictures of her (former) fiance, James, with his tongue down some girl’s throat. At the time she had been devastated, her heart broken beyond repair.

It felt like no one else in the world could understand the way she was feeling. If she was in this position because of another person, they must get it too. The text to Harry was already sent before she had time to think it over.

I looked and I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry that I didn’t listen.

His response came only seconds later.

Don’t be sorry. It’s hard not to. Are you alright?

She had to think about his question, unsure if she knew the answer. Tears were still running down her face and she felt like she was a target the entire world had decided it was open season on. Logically, she knew these people never thought she would see these awful things, but it didn’t excuse the hurt she felt when she did.

I don’t know. I just don’t understand how people can be so cruel.

She felt like she was bothering him, even though he had offered to be there for her. He wasn’t her best friend, or a close confidant; he was her fake publicity boyfriend. He had real friends he wanted to talk to or maybe even a real girlfriend underwraps somewhere. Her body was wracked with guilt as she thought it over.

People are just mean on the internet, okay? They think they can say whatever they want without repercussions. I’m so sorry that you are being targeted because of me.

Before she got a chance to think through a proper response to him, her phone dinged with another text. It was from Jeff again.

Really good job, kiddos.

Y/N was confused. They hadn’t done anything else but be seen together today. Her sick sense of curiosity got her again before she opened Twitter again and looked up Harry’s name. He had tweeted for the first time in six months only a few moments ago.

@Harry_Styles: We treat people with kindness.

***

The next time she saw him was two days later at yet another public meet up Jeff had arranged for them. Unfortunately this time, she had become just as famous as Harry seemingly overnight, the flames of her new found fame growing even larger after he had sent that tweet.

While the fame had grown, the hate had calmed since his statement, which most had taken as an official declaration of their relationship. Now, that was not to Jeff’s plans.

She had to fight her way out of her apartment complex, wearing a pair of massive dark sunglasses with circular lenses and shielding her face with her hands the best she could. But she did have to admit that the electric orange fabric of her jumpsuit probably didn’t do much to help her blend in and avoid the attention of the paparazzi that had now found out where she lived.

Harry was sitting at the table by himself facing the back of the cafe when she arrived, two cups of coffee waiting before him to be drank together placed delicately on the table. He had his head down, buried in a book, before she startled him with a hug from behind. Her cheek connected with his warm neck where she buried her head into him and she took in his dizzying cologne.

She felt him jump beneath her as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pressing a dramatic and cheesy kiss to his cheek, feeling his light stubble prick her chapsticked lips. “My hero,” she joked, trying to bring at least a little humor to the man who had just about jumped out of his skin at her touch.

It felt like she was crossing a boundary, and she was pretty sure she was, but she just needed to thank him and a hug felt like the best way to do that while in a semi-crowded coffee shop. Also, playing up that they were madly in love didn’t hurt.

“Jesus Christ,” he breathed, a hand flying over his chest in surprise to feel his racing heartbeat. “You scared the shit out of me.” Once he settled for a moment, his arm moved across his chest to rest on her arm. His touch was gentle and soft, holding her there gently like he didn’t want her to release him from her grasp. She tried not to think about it too much as she slipped her arms off of him, making her way to the seat that was clearly meant for her across from him.

“I’m sorry that I scared you. A little jumpy today?” she teasingly questioned.

“Hey, watch it,” he playfully threatened. “I believe you called me your hero about thirty seconds ago.”

“I guess I did,” she quipped over the mug she was bringing to her lips. It was sweet but not too sweet, with cream but not too much, and still piping hot; just the way she liked it. “I don’t think it’s too far off,” she smiled before turning back to the coffee. “Good coffee,” she mused. “Just the way I like it.”

“Good. I texted Jeff for your order,” he informed her, the gesture being so thoughtful and sweet she could have melted into a puddle right there and then. “And I think ‘hero’ might be a bit much,” he tacked on.

“Don’t be humble, Harry.” While her voice was still light and held a jesting tone, she meant her words. “You made the entire internet leave me alone, for the most part,” she clarified as there were definitely some nasty messages still floating around Twitter, “in five words.”

“It was the least I could do,” he said while shaking his head slightly, seeming to deflect her words.

“You could have done absolutely nothing.” She reached across the table and grabbed his hand in hers like they had staged at the cafe a few days earlier; but this time, it was an honest gesture, not one for a role they were both meant to be playing. Her words were serious, punctuating each with a gentle nod of her head. “I mean it. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” His eyes held the same truthfulness and honesty she hoped she was mirroring in her own. “I know all of this,” he paused and gestured between them with his free hand, “is for publicity, but I consider you a friend. It was hard to watch it all go down like that. You’re a good person and you didn’t deserve all that. I had to do something.”

There was a warmth that flooded her chest. He called me his friend, she thought to herself, fighting back a big toothy grin. She had been under the impression that all of this was just work for him, something he was doing just to drum up publicity, with no personal connections at all. But him calling her a friend meant so much to her. It meant she was not alone in all this terrifying and overwhelming attention.

“I’m glad you think of me as a friend,” she said, still holding back her smile. “You’re my friend too.” He matched her close-lipped smile that had fought its way onto her face at her words.

They sat in silence together for a few moments. Harry returned to his book and Y/N answered emails; but their hands stayed connected across the small table. This silence was very different from the silence on the day they first met. It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence that sat on your tongue, begging you to break the quiet; it was peaceful and safe.

Their silence was broken when a young woman wearing a jittery smile and nervous eyes approached their table. Her voice squeaked out a mouse-like “Hi,” towards the both of them, bringing their eyes up to meet hers and instinctively breaking their hands away from each other.

“I’m so so sorry to be a bother,” she began, cheeks red and hot. “But I’m a really big fan of both of you and I would never forgive myself if I didn’t say hello.” She rambled excitedly, mostly looking at Harry, as she held her slightly shaky hands up to her chest.

“Hello,” Harry said with one of his million dollar smiles. “What’s your name?”

“I’m Emma,” she breathed.

“Well, it’s so nice to meet you Emma.” He spoke gently with her, clearly sensing her anxiety, extending his hand for her to shake. “Thank you for all of your support.”

Y/N watched closely as he spoke with her. He spoke to her like she was the only person in the room, giving her his whole undivided attention, and repeatedly thanking her as she flooded him with compliments about how his music and message of kindness meant so much to her. She was so entranced that she nearly didn’t hear her own name being said as the girl turned towards her.

“I love your music as well,” she grinned, clearly more comfortable after her short conversation with Harry. “And your jumpsuit is just incredible.” Her nervous giggle was contagious, Y/N releasing one as well at the compliment as her cheeks heated slightly. She was shocked she even knew any of her music, clearly being the less popular of the pair.

“Thank you so much, Emma. It means a lot.”

Emma took a few quick selfies with the both of them (that would be everywhere within a few hours), said goodbye and went to leave the two, but not before she paid them one last compliment. “You two are really cute together. I’m rooting for you.”

Both of their cheeks warmed as they looked back at each other. They were quiet for a moment, unsure how to respond, before Harry turned his attention back to the girl with a coy smile. “I am too,” was all he said.

***

The next three weeks passed in a blur of tour rehearsals, fittings, and public meetings with Harry. And then all of a sudden, it was the night of the first show.

Y/N had never been so nervous in her entire life. She would be the first face seen by just over 19,000 people, tasked to warm up the crowd and prepare them for Harry, which was enough pressure. And then there was the chance that they all hated her guts.

She stood behind the curtain, listening to the loud and inpatient crowd as she paced back and forth. She white-knuckeld her guitar, trying to keep her violently shaking hands from being too visible to the crew around her. Her stomach swirled and her palms were clammy, constantly having to rub them on the pants of her icey blue jumpsuit. It fit her like a glove, the wide legged pants and slight shoulder pads, creating a perfect hourglass silhouette; the only thing she was confident in at the moment was how good she looked in it.

Her heart leapt out of her chest and she almost hit the ceiling when a small voice appeared over her shoulder, whispering “You’re going to do great,” in her ear. If her heart wasn’t about to give out before, it was now. She swung around to face him, almost hitting Harry with her guitar, letting out a small breath of relief when her eyes met his own. They always seemed to calm her down a bit.

“I’m kinda freaking out, H,” she anxiously babbled, using the nickname he had told her to call him. “This is the biggest crowd I’ve ever played in front of, and they probably all hate me because they think I’m dating you, and I have to make sure I do a good job so they start listening to my music; and I just…” she trailed off for a second, uncomfortably scratching the back of her neck, “I just can’t let you down.”

His face softened at her words, seeming to take pity on her. “Y/N,” he began, resting his hands on her shoulders and looking so deep into her eyes she felt like he could probably see her soul. “We picked you to open because people love your music and the way that you perform. You just have to go out there and do what you do best: sing your heart out and put on a good show. It’s only 25 minutes. I know you can do it.”

Every word that left his lips was laced with honesty and encouragement; just enough for Y/N to relax her furrowed brow and give her lip a break from her constant chewing. “I can do it,” she softly repeated back to him, still not breaking contact with his striking green eyes.

A stage manager passed by them, running to some other important task, but not before tapping her shoulder. “You’re on in 30 seconds,” he spoke, just as she heard the roar of the crowd begin, signalling the dimming of the lights in the arena.

“Go kick some ass,” he winked, stepping backwards from her and releasing her from his grasp. “I’ll be watching.”

Walking on stage, she wasn’t met with ‘boo’s that had plagued her nightmares, or mean looks from the audience, or rotten tomatoes thrown from the crowd.

They were screaming in excitement, screaming for her.

From the second she started playing, the crowd had her back; the ones that knew the words to her songs sang them along with her, and the ones that didn’t, happily danced to her voice. Before long, the smile she had forced onto her face was genuine, and her set passed by with ease. When her 25 minutes were up, she wasn’t sure if she wanted to get off the stage.

She took her final bow as the crowd roared, running off of the stage into the wings, looking for one person in particular. And when she found him, she threw herself into Harry’s open and waiting arms. “I told you that you were going to do great!” He spoke excitedly into her ear and he held her close to his body, his arms wrapped around her waist tight.

She liked the way it felt to be in his arms.

Pulling away from him, she saw the massive grin that he wore for her, noting how adorable his dimples were and how the excited look in his eyes made him look like a little kid. But there was more to his face than excitement, he looked proud.

“They were so nice to me, and they knew my songs, and they were screaming so loud for me, and it just went so well. I can’t believe it!” Her previous anxious chatter had become an exhilarated rambling and she felt on top of the world.

“I can,” he grinned, looking down at his watch quickly. “I have to go get changed.” If she wasn’t so amped up, she might have noticed the disappointment that flashed over his features. “Promise me you’ll watch the show?”

“Pinky swear?” She stuck up her little finger in the air.

“Pinky swear.” He kept their pinkies locked for a moment too long, then released her hand and ran backstage to get dressed.

She kept her promise and watched with excitement as the building shook when Harry took the stage.

She had never heard something quite so loud, sure her ears would be ringing when she snuggled into her bunk on the tour bus that night. Watching him perform was mesmerizing; he knew how to work a stage in every way and make every person in the arena feel like he was singing just for them. He was larger than life while performing and his little dances and mannerisms only got more pronounced the more comfortable he got on stage. He messed with Mitch, who she had only met a few hours ago (he was very nice), and constantly praised Sarah on the drums behind him, while he looked over to Adam and sent him smiles often.

Everyone in the building came for a show, and boy, did he give them one. It was amazing to watch. There was a reason she was a fan.

Bouncing off the stage, full of adrenaline and in a post-show high, he came to find her. It wasn’t hard, as she had never left her spot on the side of the stage, unable to rip her eyes away from the man before her.

“Oh my god, Harry! That was incredible!” she said with delighted amazement.

“I’m glad you liked it.” He was smiling down at her with a big toothy grin, a hand running through his sweaty hair and pushing it off his forehead. “They only get better from here.”

***

He was telling the truth. The shows only got crazier and more exciting as the tour went on, and so did their “relationship.”

About five shows in, Jeff had Harry given her his “H” ring to start wearing. Harry didn’t seem too phased by it all even though she thought it might be too much, saying “it’s like a friendship bracelet.” But it was too big for her fingers, not because she had small hands, but because Harry’s were absolutely massive. She wore it on a chain around her neck from then on and made sure to always be seen playing with it.

Fans took notice and loved it.

A little after that, Jeff sent them off to get matching manicures. Both had a melting rainbow of oranges, pinks, and browns on their fingertips, which looked amazing in the paparazzi photos of them walking around with their fingers intertwined.

The fans loved that too.

But when she “accidentally” posted a photo of Harry on her story, the entire world lost it’s shit. In the photo, he laid sprawled across a bed in only a white hotel robe that was creeping dangerously high up his thigh. He looked sleepy and slightly sweaty, in a post-fuck haze, and clothes that looked very similar to ones she had been seen wearing in public only days before were strewn across the floor. The caption read “I love getting to love you.”

The photo had strategically only been up for about 30 seconds, but by the time it was deleted thousands of people had seen it and screenshots had been taken. They quickly circulated the internet, creating a bit of scandal. But more than anything, people began to love the two of them together even more. Harry looked genuinely happy in the photo, and for most of his fans, that was all that mattered.

They were creating a fairytale love story for an audience, but she would be lying if she said she wasn’t enjoying her role. She quite liked being his “girlfriend.”

Harry and Y/N had a way of clicking as they grew closer–quite literally as they were crammed together on a tour bus most of the time. They seemed to be able to finish each other’s sentences and always beat the other to the punchline of a joke. The pair had begun to pick up on the other’s mannerisms and habits; Y/N always teasing that Harry was going to rub his nose off one day if he kept rubbing it while he was thinking and Harry always knowing when she got enough sleep by whether or not she had put on eyeliner that morning. They swapped playlists back and forth in their bunks as they tried to doze off and always grabbed a cup of coffee for whoever had decided to sleep in the next day, now knowing the other’s order by heart.

There was only one thing she didn’t know about him that she longed to discover: what his lips felt like against her own. She could never think too hard about it though, or she may just explode.

He had become a calming presence and was currently helping her keep her cool, even though she knew the pair of interviewers across the table were getting ready to grill the pair for every detail they could get. His hand had settled on top of her knee to quell it’s nervous bouncing, but remained after she had stopped, even though no one could see his touch under the table. She watched as his thumb ran itself back and forth along the leg of her flashy orange and yellow patterned overalls and she had a hard time pulling her gaze away when the radio host across the large table began to speak.

“So Harry,” the bald man began. “Fine Line has been one of the biggest albums of the year and I just have to say I love it. It’s truly incredible.” She listened as the man continued on to sing Harry’s praises, going on to list his grammy nominations, sold out world tour, and other accolades. She couldn’t help but smile as she watched his cheeks tinge pink with the praise. She knew anyone watching would pick up on her adoring look and people fawn over it, but she knew her gaze was nothing but truthful.

“Thank you very much,” he said shyly, shaking his head slightly as he spoke into the microphone suspended in front of his face. “You’re too kind.”

“Stop being humble,” she teased him, playfully tapping him on the arm. “All of his music is fantastic,” she said turning her attention back to the man across from them, “especially Fine Line.”

“And there’s Y/N, being the supportive girlfriend,” the man chuckled.

“I support him in everything he does,” she smiled back, not having to embellish the truth at all. “He is an amazing talent and I think Fine Line shows that.”

It wasn’t hard for her to gush about him. It was actually quite easy. She absolutely adored him, as an artist, a friend, and the focus of her affection. She felt an equal warmth in her cheeks as she watched his get even pinker with her compliments.

“That’s actually something we wanted to ask you about,” the blonde woman sitting next to him piped up, a mischievous glint in her eyes that sent nervous butterflies flying around Y/N’s stomach. “One of the songs on Fine Line, Cherry to be specific, actually features the voice of Harry’s ex, Camille. How does that make you feel as his new girl?”

Y/N did her best not to gag at the woman’s question, gritting her teeth as she plastered on a polite smile. “Well, I think Cherry is a really great song and her voice at the end adds a lot,” she spoke as smoothly as she could, refusing to let on that the question rattled her. Harry’s light squeeze on her knee signalled to her that she had answered the question well.

“It’s also been three years since the song was written,” Harry cut in. “Things are obviously a lot different now.” He connected their eyes for a second while he was leaning back into his seat, sending her a short smile, but she knew him well enough to know it was genuine.

“Oh, definitely,” the woman eagerly agreed. “You’re in a great new relationship with a beautiful girl on your arm.”

“Y/N,” he emphasized her name as the woman had referred to her as a possession of his for a second time, “and I are very happy. Thank you.” To an onlooker, he was calm. To her, he was visibly uncomfortable by her words.

Y/N began to notice a clear pattern as the interview went on. Harry was asked exclusively about his music and the tour, while Y/N only became relevant to their interviewers when they wanted to mention their relationship.

When the man asked Y/N if she felt uncomfortable playing to Harry’s mainly female fanbase every night that are “so obviously jealous of her,” something snapped inside of her, sending all her hours of media training out the window. “I’m not uncomfortable at all,” she said curtly. “His music is great and he puts on an awesome show. I don’t think the audience’s gender really has anything to do with the music.” She watched the man’s face fall before she decided to go on. “And I would like to think that at least a few of them are there for me too. You do know I make music too, right?”

An indignant smirk found its way to her lips as the man stammered out, “yes, of course.”

“Okay. I was just wondering since you have only asked me questions about our relationship since we got here.”

She knew Jeff wouldn’t be happy, but at the moment, she couldn’t care less. They may not have really been dating, but the interviewers didn’t know that. All of their dismissal of her and her career was 100% real.

She had been so worked up that she didn’t even realize Harry’s hand had left her knee until it found its way to rest on her back. She leaned into his touch as he rubbed her back softly while she crossed her arms in front of her.

The interviewers looked at the two of them across the table, jaws both lying on the floor. It was quiet until Harry nonchalantly spoke. “She has a point.”

The last few minutes of the interview passed in an awkward blur that felt suffocating. She felt like she could finally take in a deep breath once they were in the back of a massive SUV being driven away from the studio.

“Jeff is going to have my head,” she mumbled under her breath, nose stuck into her phone as she scrolled Twitter to see what people were saying about her outburst. But before she could read any opinions, Harry's tattooed arm blocked her view as he gently pushed her phone down onto her lap.

“Look at me,” he murmured, beckoning her attention to the other side of the back seat. When she connected her eyes with his, his usual calming aura took over her, softening the stressed crease between her brows. “It’s going to be okay.”

“Harry, I just blew my career up into smoke because I couldn’t deal with a rude interviewer,” she huffed at him.

“No,” he disagreed softly, moving the hand that rested on her arms to interlock his fingers with one of hers. “You stuck up for yourself to people who were ignoring your work and whittling you down to your relationship.”

“But it was rude.”

“It was necessary.”

The car ride to the venue for that night’s concert was quiet, but Harry never let go of her hand, brushing his thumb over her knuckles in a comforting touch. She wasn’t sure if she ever wanted him to let go.

***

It was the early hours of the morning by the time the pair returned to their tour bus and went to crawl into their bunks.

Her performance had gone well and Harry was mesmerizing (as always). He was truly hypnotizing to watch while he performed and she hadn’t missed watching him yet, even as they drew close to the end of the tour. It was the best part of her day and she would miss it dearly after the last show.

She was almost asleep, curtain drawn and cuddled under a pile of blankets, when her cell began to ring. Her heart sank, knowing only one person who would know when she had a sliver of free time (even though it’s debatable if sleeping counts as free time). She was going to get scolded like she was a little kid in the principal's office and she knew it.

“Hi Jeff,” she answered with a sigh as she pulled the curtain back and slid from the bunk, the cold air of the tour bus nipping at her legs.

Her gaze was met by a snuggled up Harry wearing a concerned face across from her in his own bed. He never closed the curtain, not even when she asked politely to muffle his snores, always saying something about how it made him claustrophobic. He sent her a tired smile and mouthed “good luck,” extending a hand for a fist bump as she passed. Knocking their knuckles together put a brief smile on her face before she buckled in for the chewing out she was about to get.

Harry watched her intently as she paced up and down the front of the tour bus as she spoke to Jeff, too far away for him to listen in. Her face gradually turned from anxious, to surprised, to something that would have probably been happiness if she wasn’t so tired.

“Alright, thank you for everything.” She spoke softly when she finally returned to be within earshot for him. “Goodnight Jeff.”

“So?” he murmured groggily at her, brows raised in question at her.

“People loved it,” she said shocked, like she didn’t fully believe it herself. “They think I’m some kind of badass for shutting down a sexist. Which is, like, a lot,” she spoke with a disbelieving chuckle, unable to find the right words in her groggy state. “I don’t really know what to make of it.”

Harry seemed to spring up from his spot in his bed, smacking his head on the top of the bunk in the process, prompting them both to dissolve into a puddle of giggles.

“Don’t get too excited for me,” she laughed. “I cannot be the reason that you hurt yourself and have to cancel a show.”

“I was just too excited to say ‘I told you so,’” he smirked, now rubbing the side of his head through his curls.

“Cocky bastard,” she sarcastically murmured under her breath while dramatically rolling her eyes.

She watched with confusion as Harry left his bed, and after a short and frantic search for his pajama pants so he wouldn’t “offend her eyes,” he moved towards the front of the bus. Her eyes trailed him as he bent down to the small mini fridge and pulled out two beers.

“We have to celebrate.”

It was 2 AM and she had been so ready for bed after a long day. But she knew she could never say no to him. She thanked god that they had a day off tomorrow.

After retrieving her massive and lovingly worn Grateful Dead sweatshirt to protect her from the chilly air, she nearly ran to the front of the bus. His painted pink fingers moved with skill as he popped the bottle caps off with one of his rings, handing it to her and gently nudging his bottle against hers.

“Cheers,” he murmured softly as he looked down at her with a kindhearted smile.

“Cheers,” she seemed to whisper back to him, a flutter in her stomach reminding her how badly she wanted to reach out and connect her lips to his. Instead she slid into the small booth across from him, taking a long sip from the bottle as she watched him do the same.

“I want you to know that I was really proud of you today,” he said as he put his beer down on the table. “Rude interviewers are never easy and you handled it like a champ.”

“Thank you, H,” she nodded, suddenly bashful and unable to make eye contact with him. Her cheeks burned hot as she put all her focus into tracing the rim of the bottle with her finger tip.

“Hey,” he called for her attention and her eyes snapped up to meet his. “I mean it, Y/N.”

“I know you do,” she gently nodded at him. “I’m just really happy they didn’t ask about my ex,” she chuckled as she took another sip. “That would have gone very poorly.”

“Oh yeah, I was a little annoyed they brought up my ex but not yours,” he teased. “Not fair if you ask me.”

“Well, then I’m glad no one asked you.”

“Can I ask you?”

“What?”

“About your ex.”

She should have been prepared to talk about it with Harry at some point. Half of this plan had been devised to get back at James anyway. She should be able to talk about it by now, especially with someone she had grown so close to.

“I guess so,” she shrugged, trying to seem casual like the mere mention of him didn’t still hurt her heart a little bit. “What do you want to know?”

“As much as you’re willing to tell me.”

He looked soft like this, eyes slightly sleepy with a tenderness in them as he looked back at her. His hair was unruly and puffy and he was wrapped in the powder blue blanket that lived on the tour bus’ couch. She would have told him anything that he ever wanted to hear if he kept looking like this.

With a deep breath, she began to recount everything that went down.

“I met James while I was still working as a waitress. I recognized him from his movies and started a conversation, and then–to my surprise–he asked me out on a date. I had been in LA for three weeks and this insanely famous actor is asking me to go out with him, so I obviously said yes.” She paused to take a swig of her beer, before mumbling under her breath, “I should have said ‘fuck no’ to that.”

A smile ghosted over her lips as she listened to Harry’s laugh across the table. She swore that laugh could cure cancer.

“But I didn’t,” she continued. “He introduced me to the right people and helped me make the right connections in the industry, which I guess made me feel indebted to him. Does that make sense?”

“Of course,” Harry nodded, eyebrows furrowed and listening intently.

“I should have broken up with him after I signed with Jeff and the label, however awful that sounds. But he just always knew the right things to say to make me feel special and like I was the most important person in the world. Even after I found out he was talking to other girls, he was somehow able to talk himself out of it.” She shook her head as she recalled it. “You wanna hear something fucked up?”

“Always,” he said with a gentle smirk.

“He proposed to me using lines from a romcom he was working on.”

Harry nearly spit out his drink. “Holy shit, you’re kidding!”

“I wish. I didn’t find out until I went with him to the premier a few months later and the proposal scene sounded surprisingly familiar.”

“What a dirtbag.”

“I know, right?” she laughed. “Then a few weeks after that, he got papped with his tongue down another girl’s throat. That finally knocked some sense into me and I ran for the hills.”

“Fuck,” he sighed as he finished his beer. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she breathed. “I don’t even feel hurt by him anymore, ya know? I just feel angry at myself for trusting him.”

“I understand but it’s not your fault he was a piece of shit,” he said as he rose from his seat and traveled to the mini fridge once again. “Another?” he asked, holding the bottle up about his head.

“Fuck it,” she shrugged. “Sure.”

She watched him skillfully pop off the tops again using just his rings, making a mental note to make him teach her how he did that, before he flopped back down in his seat.

“At the risk of sounding like a Facebook mom, ‘you grow through what you go through,’” she chuckled, taking another long sip as she finished her first. He matched her high pitched giggle across the table and she nearly drooled beer down her front from smiling so wide.

“Amen, sister,” he agreed, raising his beer in the air.

“Oh, that was awful.” She shook her head as she descended into giggles. “Please never say that again.”

“Noted.”

“Anyway,” she began again after another sip of her drink, “I was well prepared to get my heartbroken by untrustworthy men after you, Styles.”

“I’m offended–tell me more,” he spoke quickly, his signature narcissistic smirk settling onto his features.

“I need you to know that Zayn leaving was my first real heartbreak.”

“Were the rest of us chopped liver?”

“You weren’t Zayn, I can tell you that.”

“Ouch!” He let out a loud belly laugh.

“Put yourself in my shoes for a minute, H. So first, the hottest-”

“Rude-”

“-I’m speaking. So the hottest one leaves, and then the rest of you are all like ‘we’ll be back in 18 months,’” she mocked him in a high pitched impersonation with a wave, “and then 6 months later you all mysteriously have solo careers.”

“I do not see you complaining about my solo career now, ya fame leetch.” He spoke with such humor and charisma, she couldn’t have even wished to be offended by his joke.

“Absolutely not, sir,” she said sternly, giving him a dramatic salute. “Deepest apologies from the fame leetch.” The two collapsed into giggles, laughing until their sides began to ache.

“Wait, I have a question for mega superstar Mr. Harry Styles of former One Direction fame,” she announced.

“I believe that’s me,” he bowed his head and raised his hand into the hair. “Shoot.”

She barely could get the question out, laughing too hard at her own joke. “Is Taylor Swift a good kisser?”

“Oh god,” he exasperatedly threw his hands in the air, chuckling while rolling his eyes dramatically before grinning wide as he thought over his answer. “I don’t kiss and tell,” he finally smirked.

“Wait, I have another!”

“Watch it, smart ass.”

“You think I’m smart?” she teased as she feigned flattery. “Have you ever heard of a song called ‘English Love Affair?’” He narrowed his eyes at her, a knowing smirk crossing his lips as he shook his head at her. “Also, when do I get to meet Gemma?”

“I’ll consider it when you stop bringing up her sex life, perv.”

“We’ve been dating for a few months now,” she teased as she continued to prod, emboldened by the liquid courage running through her veins as she was now half way through her next beer. “I think I should be allowed to meet the family soon. They seem delightful.”

“They would love how you have decided to rip into me like this,” he said with a cheeky smile, dimples on full display.

“Rockstars have to get knocked down a peg every once in a while.” She sarcastically shrugged. “Consider it a favor.”

She couldn’t help but think about how right this felt. Their back and forth flowed so smoothly, the banter falling from their lips without effort. Their laughter joined together in a delightful melody and she imagined they could go on this way all night.

Spending any amount of time with him made her so fucking happy; and time spent teasing each other over beers caused her to nearly explode with joy. How much she was enjoying herself was too hard to put into words.

He was safe and he was kind and he made her laugh no matter how bad his jokes were.

He was her best friend.

And for the first time, she was willing to admit that she was in love with him.

“Harry,” she hummed softly as their laughter died down to a comfortable silence. “Thank you for everything. You’ve changed my life forever and I can never repay you.”

“Just remember me when you get famous.”

“Oh shut up, I’m being serious,” she playfully scolded before letting her tone drop back into honesty. “You’re a very good person and I’m eternally grateful for you letting me be your opening act and then agreeing to this whole relationship charade.”

“I didn’t ‘let’ you be anything, Y/N. I picked you myself.”

Her brows furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“I listened to your album when it came out and fell in love with it,” he shrugged, his casual tone contradicting the surprised raise of her pulse. “When I found out Jeff also managed you, I knew I had to have you on the tour.”

Y/N was honestly stunned. She had always assumed that the tour was Jeff’s doing, a careful arrangement pairing Full Stop’s new up-and-comer with their most famous and established talent. Being offered the tour had been the biggest opportunity and honor she had ever been presented with; but she had never considered Harry himself being behind it.

“Oh,” was all she could manage to get out.

It was now his turn to be confused. “What’s so surprising about that?” he asked, reading the shock on her face like she was an open book.

“I just,” she stammered, trying to find the words in her slightly hazy state. “I never would have thought you knew who I was or listened to my music.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know,” she trailed off. “You’re you, and I’m just... me, I guess.”

He didn’t respond right away, just looking at her intently and slightly amused, sea glass eyes boring into her with a pink lip held between his teeth.

He scanned her frame, from the way her hair sat messily on top of her head and the way the massive sweatshirt swallowed her body enough to where she had pulled her knees up to her chest underneath it. Her shoulders were slumped slightly, making her appear smaller as she held her legs close to her torso and her eyebrows were knitted together in worry, slightly nervous under his intense gaze.

She downed the rest of her beer in an attempt to forget his intense attention. It didn’t work.

“You really don’t know how incredible you are, do you?” he finally asked, the corner of his lips twitching into a small smile.

She felt her whole body burn with his compliment, wanting to shrink into herself and disappear completely from his view. She finally shook her head slightly in an attempt to deflect his words, breathing his name under her breath as if to scold him for being too kind.

“You are,” he insisted, ignoring her objection. “You’re so talented and your music deserves all the attention that it gets. I am honored that I get to play a part in helping expose the world to you and what you have to offer.”

“Thank you.” Her words came out as a whisper.

“You’re welcome, love.”

His pet name made her stomach turn in a nervous excitement and a wide grin involuntarily came to her lips.

“I like it when I make you smile like that.” His words only made her beam further. “You look very pretty when you smile.”

“Stop it,” she said softly, cheeks burning hot and having a hard time making eye contact with him.

“Stop what?” He feigned innocence as he lightly teased her, smirk still prominent on his features.

“Are you flirting with me, Styles?”

“Just practicing.”

His words rang through her mind long after they had left the table and crawled back into their bunks for the night. She wished she could see inside his head to understand whatever thoughts were running around his brain.

But for now she could just peak at him through the gap she had purposely left in her curtain, wondering if she ever popped into his dreams as he slept.

He was always in hers.

***

There was a sadness mixed in with her usually thrilled mood as she took the stage for the last show of the tour. While there was an element of relief as she looked forward to some well needed rest, the adrenaline and joy of being in front of a crowd was something that she would miss dearly. She had grown into a real performer over the last two months as they zig-zagged across the US and this period of time would have a special place in her heart long after it had ended.

But there was another reason why she was so sad to see this chapter come to an end. As far as she knew, a staged breakup was not far away and the thought of being without Harry was heartbreaking. He had become her person and soon their feux falling out would be on the front page of every magazine. She wanted nothing more in the world than for their relationship to be real, but it would be forced to end before it had even truely started.

She got choked up as she sang her final song that night, letting a few tears escape as she took in the thousands of people singing her lyrics back to her, flashlights swaying in the air to the beat of the music. Taking a move from Harry’s own playbook, she took her mic and directed it to the crowd to sing as she cried. The vibrations of the drums and bass behind her nestled it’s way into her bones and the chorus of singing voices in the crowd surrounded her in a bittersweet melody.

The past two months she had been on top of the world, and as soon as this song finished, it was the beginning of the end.

She took her final bow, watching as the small tears fell forward onto the dusty stage below her. She waved and blew kisses to the crowd, then nearly ran off the stage looking for the only person she wanted to see.

Harry was right where he always was, just out of view behind the curtain, holding his arms out for her to fall into.

“Awe, babe,” he hummed sympathetically when she settled her head onto his chest, surely ruining his crisp white t-shirt with her now wet makeup. “It’s okay. Final shows are always tough.” He rubbed her back gently, in a soothing rhythm.

He smelled so good. He smelled like home.

She tilted her head up to connect her glassy eyes with his. “I just don’t want this all to end.” She knew she wasn’t just talking about the tour.

“Neither do I,” he said as his lips curved into a devilish smirk that sent her heart into palpitations. “That’s why I have one last surprise for you.”

“Oh, Harry,” she sighed while wiping the remaining tears off her cheeks. “What have you done?”

“You said you liked surprises!” he defended.

“Not surprises in front of 20,000 people!”

“I promise you’re going to love this one, okay?” His voice was softer now, encouraging and supportive. “You’re going to come out and sing an extra song with me during my set,” he revealed.

“Sing what?”

“That’s the surprise.”

“Do I even know the words?”

“You definitely know the words,” he chuckled.

“I just finished sobbing. I can’t go out there like this.”

“You can fix your makeup. I believe in you.”

“What am I going to wear?” she asked, grasping at straws at this point, doing anything she could to get out of this.

“I had Lambert put something together for you.”

“Of course you did.”

She peppered him with a few more questions, but he had a smooth and charming answer to every single one. He had thought every detail out, and as always, she couldn’t say no to him.

“Fine,” she finally exasperatedly agreed, immediately met with his excited and dimpled smile that she had fallen head over heels for.

“Perfect,” he breathed. “I have to go get ready and so do you. I already put everything you need in your dressing room, okay?” She nodded, still biting her lip anxiously. He held her by her shoulders, lowering his head to match their eye level as he leaned in close, before he spoke. “You’re going to have fun. I promise.”

“Pinky swear?”

“Pinky swear.”

Seconds after they locked their little fingers together, he pressed a quick and protective kiss to her forehead that set her whole body ablaze before running off in the direction of his dressing room. She remained stunned and frozen in her spot for a few moments trying to process what it felt like to have his lips on her for the first time since that very first day they had met.

There was no audience to perform it for or an act to keep up behind the curtain. He kissed her because he wanted to.

She was finally snapped out of her daze when a stagehand bumped into her by accident, prompting her to begin the short walk back to her dressing room. But the ghost of his lips remained on her forehead, an incessant tingle placed there by his touch.

The dress she found waiting for her was one of the most beautiful gowns she had ever set her eyes on. Made of a light purple chiffon, the wrap dress’ long sleeves and floor length skirt flowed freely. A belt cinched the wispy fabric close to her waist and a deep-v exposed her neck and chest. But the most dazzling part of the dress were the red sequined hearts that dotted the fabric and reflected the light of the dressing room like a million little mirrors.

Slipping into it, the light fabric was soft against her skin, opaque enough but still slightly sheer to let light through and show off her legs and the bright red shiny pumps Lambert had left for her. She felt the most beautiful she had ever felt in this dress, boosting her confidence and quelling her nerves about whatever the hell Harry was planning.

“One minute to curtain,” was announced in an ominous voice over the arena’s backstage speakers as she finished fixing her makeup and she all but ran to make it back to the stage in time. She only had one more chance to watch him perform and she refused to miss a second of it.

Harry dazzled as the lights focused in on him, his deep blue and fully sequined suit reflecting the light and turning him into a human disco ball. He stood close to the edge of the stage as the beginning notes of the first song began being played by the band, but he made no move towards his mic stand to sing. His eyes were closed and his arms were outstretched to the audience, taking in every scream, every tear, and the thunderous shake of the building; but also giving himself to them.

Then the show began. As usual, he was electric, but tonight was like he had turned himself up to eleven. Every note he sang was full of his heart and every dance move was done with his entire body, even his bad jokes seemed funnier tonight.

She was so mesmerized she almost forgot about his ‘surprise.’ Almost.

“Since tonight is unfortunately our last show,” he pouted. “I thought I would do something special,” he spoke to the crowd as they roared, but quickly connected his eyes with her’s in the wings. By the smirk plastered on his face, she knew she was in for it.

“I recently found out that someone very close to me was a very big fan of…” he trailed off as he dramatically pretended to search for the right words, “my previous work.” He finished with a smirk and his words prompted the loudest reaction since he had been on stage.

“Now, I told her that she would be coming on stage to join me tonight, but I didn’t exactly tell her what we would be singing and I haven’t performed this song in a very long time, so cut us some slack if we mess up. This is very unrehearsed.” He kept sneaking glances back to her, as her eyes grew wider at the stunt he was currently pulling. “But I know for a fact that she knows all the words. I listen to her sing them in the shower quite often.” He wore a cheeky dimpled grin as he looked back at her once again.

The building was shaking due to the suspense he was creating, and looking down at her hands, she realized she was to. She gripped hard onto the mic a stagehand had just shoved at her, pleading with her hands to stop their tremors.

“Now, I would love it if you could all give another warm welcome to one of my favorite people on the planet, Y/N Y/L/N!” He turned his body to her for a final time, extending his hand out for her to take. Her legs felt like jello as she walked out into the bright lights towards him, interlocking her fingers with his as a way to keep her on her feet.

The audience’s screams were deafening at seeing the two of them together and she thanked god she had her earpieces in to protect her ear drums or they would have surely burst. She could only imagine the articles that would be written about this and the thousands of tweets that were probably already being sent.

“I’m gonna kick your ass,” she mouthed at him threateningly, but she couldn’t even get through the sentence before his dazzling smile began to quell her anxiety.

“The look on your face is 100% worth getting my ass kicked,” he answered smoothly before turning his attention back to the audience. “Everyone, sing along if you know the words,” he commanded their attention. “This is Ready to Run.”

Her jaw dropped and the crowd roared as the band behind her began to play the first few chords of the song she loved and knew so well. She had admitted it a few days ago that it was one of her favorites of his ‘previous work,’ but apparently he already knew that from the few showers she had taken on the tour bus.

“There’s a lightning in your eyes I can’t deny,” he began by himself, her brain still too shocked to jump in yet. He sang the first few lines to her with a giant grin plastered on his face, hand still holding tight to hers. His eyes had a playful glint in them that seemed to say ‘just have fun.’

“There’s a devil in your smile, it’s chasing me,” she finally began to sing, Harry fading his voice out so she could take the next few lines by herself as he admired her.

He did have a devilish smile, but it was one she loved with her entire heart. As she began to sing, she felt her muscles begin to relax into the song she had sung to herself so many times before, letting her body begin to bounce to the growing rhythm as her dress flowed around her.

The stage vibrated as Sarah beat her drums to introduce the chorus. “This time I’m ready to run, escape from the city and follow the sun,” the pair sang together, eyes still locked as their voices combined into the most perfect tune. “Cause I wanna be yours, don’t you wanna be mine?” they continued the lyrics. She felt herself meaning the words leaving her mouth more and more as they went on. She did want to be his, she couldn’t deny that. “I don’t wanna get lost in the dark of the night.”

Her apprehensiveness eased further as the music picked up and the hook went on, finally allowing herself to have a bit of fun. “Wherever you are is the place I belong,” they insisted towards each other, leaning in close before Harry grabbed her hand to dramatically spin her, the beautiful shining fabric of her dress splaying out around her. The next line was mumbled through giggles by both of them, but their laughter only added to the perfect moment they were having.

They danced across the stage together like there weren’t 20,ooo pairs of eyes watching them, both singing their hearts out to each other. It began to feel like they weren’t even there. It was just Y/N and Harry, serenading each other to one of her favorite songs.

“There’s a future in my eyes I can’t foresee,” she sang to him to start the second verse.

“Unless, of course, I stay on course and keep you next to me.” Harry grabbed her by her waist and pulled her into his side as he sang the words, prompting more giggles from her. She loved the way he smiled so wide as he sang, never breaking his eye contact with her and emitting pure joy. His eyes looked honest as he sang, like he meant every word just as much as she did.

The pair made their way through the rest of the verse and second chorus, flawlessly moving around the stage like they owned it. Y/N selfishly decided to let him have the bridge all to himself, needing to hear the way his beautiful voice hit the high notes. “This time I’m ready to run,” he sang passionately, executing the downward moving riff perfectly. “I’d give everything that I got for your love,” he pointed across the stage towards her, beckoning her back close to him. She quickly skipped to him at his request.

Like she had blinked, the song was already nearing its end.

“Cause I wanna be free and I wanna be young, I’ll never look back now I’m ready to run,” they belted the last lines out to each other. The band fell quiet on their last chord and the crowd exploded, but their noise fell on deaf ears as the pair stood so close their heaving chests were almost pressed up against each other. His eyes stared down into hers and she watched as his eyes flickered quickly down to her lips.

The world ceased to exist when he pressed his mouth to hers, even if it only lasted a second. It was nothing more than a peck, but it was everything to her. Her body igniting with heat and eyes full of shock, she looked back at him in simultaneous confusion and adoration, before realizing they had been staring at each other for too long. She needed to get off the stage so he could continue with his show. She walked back slowly towards the wings, letting the hand he had still been holding fall to her side. She waved and smiled to the crowd the best she could in her clouded mind.

“Thank you everyone!” she shouted into her mic as she moved out of their view. She shoved her mic into the first set of hands that would take it as she wobbled her way over to a table with water bottles. She nearly choked as she tried to suck one down, hoping it would ease the dizzy feeling he had created with his lips. Her lips burned just as her forehead had earlier in the night.

He had kissed her. He had sang a love song with her and then he had kissed her. She couldn’t decipher if that kiss was a confirmation that he shared the same feelings for her or if it was just another act for the cameras. But his mouth felt so right against hers. They fit together like a pair of puzzle pieces. She tried to suppress the optimistic hope that rose in her chest, but it began to swallow her whole.

When she heard his next song begin, she made her way back to the spot that had become hers at the side of the stage. She watched him perform the rest of the show in a loving haze, doe eyed and hypnotized, lips still buzzing from his contact.

He gave it his all. By the last song he was out of breath, drenched in sweat, and looked like he was about to pass out at any second. The crowd applauded for minutes after he left the stage and they were still cheering when she finally caught sight of him again. His curls were stuck to his forehead and his skin was shiny and flushed. He was panting, still trying to recover from his workout of a finale show; but he was beaming. His smile seemed to turn him into a beacon, emitting a light and positive energy that drew everyone backstage towards him.

She was so transfixed on Harry as he thanked the crew and accepted congratulations from all around that she just about jumped out of her skin when Jeff slinked up behind her and whispered ‘boo’ in her ear.

“What the fuck, Jeff,” she chuckled as she caught her breath, resting her hand on her chest and feeling her racing heartbeat.

“I just wanted to congratulate you on being half of the best fake couple out there,” he teased. “That kiss was perfect. People are losing their minds over it.”

“Oh,” she said softly, feeling every emotion she was distracted from while watching Harry rush back into her. Her heart sank as she remembered all the questions that continued to haunt her since she got off stage. “Thanks,” she murmured, plastering a smile onto her face. “I’m glad we could make you proud.”

“If you two could convince me, you can convince anyone.” Jeff walked off moments later, leaving her to sit in her confused thoughts as he disappeared into the hoards of bodies waiting for their minute with Harry.

She knew that she didn’t ‘convince’ Jeff of anything on her part. Everything she did with Harry was authentic and truthful. Including the thrilled grin that appeared on her face when she finally made eye contact with the exhausted man across the room. She gave him a shy wave that he sheepishly returned, biting back a shy smile. He pointed in the direction of his dressing room and mouthed “meet me in 15.”

She could never say no to him.

Fifteen minutes later, she was knocking on the large wooden door that had a single piece of paper that read STYLES haphazardly taped onto it. When it finally flew open, she was met by a soaking wet Harry with a towel hanging dangerously low on his hips. Her eyes trailed down his body without permission, taking in the toned torso that was decorated with his beautiful tattoos. Her eyes hovered over the two ferns that sat on his pelvis, too fascinated with the dark ink to pull her eyes away just yet.

She had obviously seen him in various states of undress before. They lived together on a tour bus without much space to exist with privacy, but this was different. He wasn’t rushing to get dressed or quickly changing his outfit. And he wasn’t moving away from her gaze at all.

If she hadn’t been so entranced by him, she would have noticed he was looking her up and down in the exact same manner.

She had changed since she had seen him last. The skin-tight black velvet romper she had brought along for the afterparty now fit her snuggly and held her every curve. The dark fabric was tight and appeared almost painted on, a rainbow racing stripe making its way down either side of her chest. The short shorts of the outfit exposed nearly all of her legs and the deep neckline put much of her chest on display as well. It’s long sleeves were her favorite part, as a strip of fringe dangled from below her arms any time she moved.

“You look great,” Harry finally choked out, his voice pulling their eyes back up to the other’s face.

“Oh, thanks,” she said, slightly awkwardly. “You too.”

“Well, I’m hopefully not going to the after party dressed like this,” he chuckled before stepping aside and ushering her into the room.

His dressing room was much larger than hers and she settled herself on the brown leather couch in the corner as she waited for him to get ready, sneaking glances up from her phone often. She chuckled as she watched him spend far too long fussing with his curls in the mirror, but was quickly distracted by the way his back and arms flexed when he reached up to muse his hair. Once he was satisfied with the way it fell, he disappeared into the bathroom at the back of the room. When he emerged, he was finally dressed, allowing her to take a deep breath and to focus on something other than his bare skin for the first time since he had opened the door.

The black satin suit was simple for him, but the tight white tank top that sat underneath hugged every muscle in his torso. She knew as soon as he got in the hot club, he would lose the jacket, and she would be devastatingly distracted once again.

The narcissist took one final look at himself in the mirror before turning to her and extending a hand. “Ready, darling?”

“You just spent 15 minutes exclusively on your hair and you’re asking me if I’m ready?” she teased as she took his hand, weaving her fingers between his as they exited the room together.

He leaned down close to her ear as they walked down the now mostly empty hallway, lips brushing over the hollow of her ear as he spoke. “I could have done it faster, but you were so obviously enjoying the show.”

“Relax yourself, Magic Mike,” she muttered indignantly, but hung her head in a way she hoped he couldn’t see how flustered he made her. Was she really that obvious?

They walked hand in hand out to the parking garage, now caught in a back and forth about whether or not Harry could be a male stripper. He said yes. She said no, although she did admit at one point that he worked his mic stand like a pole.

“Hey Jeff,” he called when they finally reached the parking garage where Jeff and Glenne had been waiting for them to head to the club. “Do you think I could be a stripper?”

“I think people would pay a lot to see it, but they may be disappointed in your dancing skills.”

“Come on,” he playfully whined. “I have some moves.”

“You have one move,” Y/N cut in with a chuckle, “and it’s the wiggle.” She brought her hands up near her chest, tilted her head back while dramatically biting her lip, and swayed her arms by her sides, earning a chorus of laughter from the people around her.

She hadn’t even realized she had done the move without releasing Harry’s hand first, dragging his arm into her dance as well, until their manager commented on it. “You know, you two don’t have to be holding hands all the time and keeping the show up back here,” he said with a slightly suspicious quirk in his eyebrows.

Her smile had been in the process of fading, like they had been caught doing something wrong, before Harry answered smoothly. “We know. Just practicing.”

There were those words again. Just practicing, she thought over to herself. But was he practicing anymore? How many flirty comments, heartfelt compliments, and warm touches did it take to cross the line of practicing to the real thing?

She wasn’t sure about Harry, but she knew that she wasn’t just practicing anymore.

She knew that the way they sat nearly on top of each other in the large SUV on the way to the club felt more than friendly. And the way he hadn’t stopped touching her in some way since they left his dressing room insinuated far more than something with business-like intentions. And the way he looked at her everytime he caught her eye the entire way to the club, always with a bright smile and adoring gaze that she always returned, pulled at her heartstrings far more than they should have if this was all an act.

A sloppy and cheeky grin settled almost permanently on his features after he had a few drinks in him, his arms moving in a lazy and fluid manner as she took in his many tattoos that he had exposed when he ditched his jacket (just like she knew he would). His butterfly was visible through the tight ribbed fabric of the white tank top and the little birds that peaked out from underneath seemed to be inviting her even closer to him in her now inebriated state.

All she wanted to do was to connect her lips with his as she watched him make conversation with someone from his management, entranced by the way his perfect mouth moved as he spoke. She once again craved the shocks of electricity that were created between them at the contact and could not stop thinking about it no matter how hard she tried. The protective hand that had settled onto her hip and continued to hold her close to his body just wasn’t enough anymore.

The pair had been drinking far too much; martinis turning into vodka sodas that had turned into straight tequila shots. She believed it was tequila shot four that did her in. The last thing she remembered was licking the line of salt off the back of her hand, downing the shot, and being entranced by Harry’s eyes as she bit down on the slice of lime he held carefully with his jeweled fingers.

***

The next morning, Y/N woke up in a hotel room that she didn’t recognize with a pounding headache and a swirling gut. It felt like she had been hit with a truck and she could barely pick her head up off the pillow.

She had so many questions about what had happened the night before. Where was she? Who let her drink that much? Whose clothes was she wearing? But most of all, what the hell happened after that fourth shot?

But she realized the worst was yet to come when she heard soft snoring coming from beside her. She knew that snoring well. It was the snoring that kept her up half the night for the last two months and the one that had almost driven her to suffocating her bus-mate in his sleep; the snoring that matched the crumbled black suit she just noticed in a ball on the floor.

It took every ounce of strength in her body to pull herself from the pillow and turn around in the bed to have her suspicions confirmed.

There he was.

His dark long eyelashes were fluttered down across the tops of his cheeks and his hair was going in every direction, skin clammy like his body was trying to rid itself of all the poison he had ingested the night before. The crumpled comforter was pushed down his stomach, his bare skin holding a sheen that helped define every dip or curve of his muscles and the tiniest bit of the band of his boxers peaked out to assure her that he at least wasn’t fully naked next to her.

Why were they in bed together? And why did he look so good? Oh my god, she thought as a possibility dawned on her. Did we sleep together?

“Harry,” she murmured softer than she intended, voice scratchy and mouth dry. The soreness at the back of her throat clued her into the copious amounts of screaming she must have done last night. He didn’t stir at her gentle coaxing, the light streaming through the windows making him look angelic as it covered him in a blanket of soft light while he continued to sleep.

It was a hard nudge to his chest that finally made him open his eyes, immediately releasing a groan she was sure she made when she regained consciousness too. He looked at her puzzled, still rubbing sleep out of his eyes as he propped himself up on his elbows. He took an equally confused look around the hotel room before looking back at her. She watched as the gears slowly turned in his head until his eyes opened wide and he spring up into a sitting position to mirror hers.

“We didn’t,” he whispered hopefully. “Oh my god, did we?” he asked, a look of horror crossing his face that matched her own.

“I have no idea,” she anxiously replied. “I was hoping you would know!”

“You don’t remember anything?”

“The last thing I remember was doing tequila shots with you.”

“I remember those.” He rubbed his eyes hard like it would somehow jog his memory. His eyebrows knit together, buried in thought as he searched his brain for a timeline. “I can follow the night up until we did karaoke.”

“We did karaoke?” she repeated incredulously and was met with a somber nod. “Do I even want to know what we sang?”

He shook his head slowly, shame clear on his face, before he finally mumbled. “We did ‘It’s Raining Men.’”

“Oh my god, no,” she whined, holding her head in her hands and rubbing her temples. There were surely videos of them sloppily singing on top of a bar circulating online and she wasn’t sure how Jeff would be able to spin that one in a positive light.

“Where’s your phone?” he asked, a hopeful glint in his eye as he reached for his own. “Maybe there’s something on there that can clue us in.” It took her a moment but she finally spotted it on the ground in the corner of the room. She said a silent prayer that it wasn’t dead or broken.

Forcing her heavy limbs out from under the covers she made her way towards the device, but not before she heard a confused sound coming from Harry. “How did you get my clothes?”

Looking down at herself and taking in the red lettering that read But Daddy I Love Him across her chest, it clicked that the t-shirt and baggy basketball shorts were his. But how they hell did she get into them?

“I think we’ve established at this point that I don’t know anything that happened after about midnight, Harry.” Her words came out laced with slight frustration. She hoped he knew she wasn’t annoyed with him, just their situation.

“Just a question, princess.”

She ignored his quip and began to search through her texts, call history, and photos, hoping to find anything at all that could help trace their steps through the night. She found nothing but a few selfies of them still at the club. One was the pair casually smiling, the next was one of him kissing her on the cheek that made her skin warm, but the final one made her snort out a laugh.

“What’s so funny?”

“I have a picture on my phone of you with two martini olives shoved up your nose,” she spoke through hysterical laughter. “Definitely birthday post material if you ask me.”

“Let me see,” he demanded with an adorable scowl.

She passed her phone over to him, still letting a few chuckles fall past her lips. “I’m gonna change your name in my phone to ‘Olive Nose Styles.”

“You're cruel.”

“You’re the one that put olives up his nose and then posed for a picture!”

“Whatever,” he grumbled, turning attention back to his own screen to continue his investigation. “There’s nothing of use on my phone either.”

The two flopped back on the bed, staring at the ceiling in the frustrated confusion. There was so much of their night that had gone up into smoke, completely unaccounted for with no clues as to what they did. Each traced their steps over and over again in their heads as they hoped desperately for a single detail that would lead them down a path to bigger memories, but it never came.

“Are we going to have to call Jeff and ask him what happened?” she finally murmured.

“I think so.”

“He’s going to put us both in client timeout, isn’t he?”

“We’re probably already there,” he groaned as he picked up his phone and hit Jefe Jeff-e in his contact list, putting the call on speaker and resting it on his still bare chest. The man on the other end picked up almost immediately.

“Morning Sleeping Beauty, I was wondering when I was going to hear from you.”

“Hi Jeff,” he groggily started then stopped, searching for the words that would make this all less uncomfortable. “Y/N and I have some questions about last night.”

Jeff let out a strained chuckle. “Yeah, that doesn’t really surprise me after last night’s bar bill.”

“Um,” Harry hummed, stammering but unable to form any real words.

“You sing about sex for a living,” she hissed at the man next to her before yanking the phone off his chest. “Jeff,” she started, taking over the conversation for them both. “Do you know if we slept together?”

“Probably not. You both were pretty unconscious when I put you in the hotel room.” His words prompted a massive sigh from both of them, looking to each other to share a relieved smile.

“Oh thank god,” they mumbled in unison.

“Jinx,” he smirked under his breath, prompting a ‘shut up’ from her.

“How did I get into Harry’s clothes?”

“I stopped by the tour bus when I realized you two probably shouldn’t be trusted not to roll out of your top bunks. I got you some clothes to sleep in before we took you guys to the hotel.”

“But why Harry’s?”

It was Jeff’s term to get squirmy. “I felt weird going through your things.”

“But you were perfectly fine with going through mine?” Harry asked, only half joking.

“Absolutely,” he deadpanned. They were all quiet for a moment before Jeff began again. “You two really don’t remember anything else that happened?”

“Everything after about two is unaccounted for,” she confessed.

“Oh,” Jeff chuckled. “So, you don’t remember when you stuck your tongues down each other’s throats on the ride home?”

Fuck.

Her eyes raced up to Harry’s from the phone she had been staring at like it held all the secrets of the night before. His easily readable features displayed all his emotions that surely matched hers. His pupils had grown in surprise, taking over nearly all the green in his wide eyes, and an embarrassed blush tinted his cheeks in a red hot flush that had reached the tips of his ears. His eyes flashed to the blank wall in front of them, running a stressed hand through his curls, like if he wasn’t looking at her, he would be able to focus better on the newly revealed information.

She couldn’t say that she didn’t relate. Her mind often went blank when she looked at him too. But right now, it was racing, occupied by anxious thoughts and intense emotions she couldn’t quite place, but felt with her entire being.

Her inevitable downward spiral was interrupted when Harry stiffly cleared his throat. “Uh,” he started, scratching the back of his neck uncomfortably. “We’ll see you later.”

“Sounds good, love birds,” Jeff replied, a clear snark apparent in his voice. Neither of the pair dignified his teasing with a response, Y/N quickly ending the call.

Silence hung heavy in the air and she let her eyes hover over the phone for too long when she settled it down on the bed, unwilling to connect her eyes with his just yet. Harry always had a way of staring into her and revealing all her cards to him before she even knew them herself. She wanted to hold them close to her chest for a moment, protecting the heart that longed for him more than anything else in the world.

There were no words exchanged between the two for a while as they silently took turns in the bathroom and occupied their hands and thoughts by their phones. They walked on eggshells anytime one neared the other. A tension like this hadn’t existed since the very first day they met, the first day they had begun to pretend.

Maybe that's why Harry was being so quiet. Maybe he never wanted to cross that line of pretending like she did. Maybe she had been blinded by his generally friendly personality and tricked herself into thinking there was anything more than a charade between them. Maybe last night really was just a drunken mistake, no matter how much she wanted it to be more.

“Maybe it’s a good thing that we don’t remember what happened last night,” she finally murmured from the opposite end of the room. She rested the side of her still heavy head and muscles against the wall, arms crossed in front of her as if they could keep her safe from the tension they had created. Her fingers nervously played with the hem of his t-shirt she was still dressed in.

“Why is it a good thing?” he almost immediately responded from the chair on the other side of the room he had settled himself into, running his hands along the satin pants of last night’s outfit he had put back on during their awkward shuffling around the room. He had even put physical space between them since they found out what happened, causing her heart to feel as if it was teetering on the edge of disintegrating.

“Well,” she stuttered, refusing to look at him and continuing to pick at her nail polish. “We’re just pretending so it would be weird if we really remembered it.”

“I don’t think it would be weird.”

“I don’t know,” she tried to maneuver her way around his response. “It might just be embarrassing to think about it.”

He let out a long and frustrated sigh, running his hands down his face. There was so much going on behind his eyes and she wished he would say something, anything, to break down the wall that hadn’t existed between them in months that was slowly reappearing.

“Do you regret it?” he asked bluntly, the abrupt question shocking her body to attention. “Do you regret any of this? Any of us?”

Did she regret drinking too much? Yes. Did she regret making out with him in front of their manager? Yes. Did she regret denying her feelings and pretending they didn’t exist for so long? Of course. But, did she regret falling in love with him? Never, not even for a second.

“No, I don’t,” she let out with a gentle shake of her head, no louder than a whisper.

“Neither do I.”

The words had barely left his lips before he crossed the room and crashed them into hers. The same fire she had felt on stage returned ten times over as his lips moved smoothly over hers, every neuron in her body lighting up like a switchboard. Her fingers reached up to curl into his hair and pull his lips impossibly closer to hers as her heart hammered in her chest with a passionate love she had kept under wraps for so long.

He tasted like the spicy peppermint toothpaste the hotel stocked in the bathroom and smelled like the tiny bottles of shampoo that rested on the side of the bathtub; but there was so much else about him that was completely unique–wholly irreplaceable and indescribable. He was just Harry.

Teeth clashed, lips were bitten, and hair was pulled as they took in every sensation the other created. His lips had been the only thought that captivated her mind since they were on stage the night before and her return to them did not disappoint. If her head wasn’t dizzy and her lungs not screaming at her for air, she would have stayed in that moment forever

When they finally disconnected, they stood against each other in a heaving and disheveled mess of heavy breathing and adoringly dazed smiles. She swore she could feel the pounding of his heart under her fingertips that rested on his chest.

“That was nice,” he eventually murmured down at her through heavy breaths, a love drunk grin finding its way onto his swollen lips.

“Yeah, I agree,” she hummed breathlessly, her anxious thoughts quiet and calm for the first time she could remember since she met him.

“I’m kind of disappointed I don’t remember doing that the first time,” he chuckled softly at her, shaking his head lightly in embarrassment with his pink tinged cheeks on full display.

“That’s okay. We were ‘just practicing’ then, right?” A giggle left her lips as she used the words against him. The same words he had used every time they let a glimpse of their true affections for each other slip past their guarded and friendly facade.

His dimples were exposed when he smiled a giant grin and let out a knowing huff, piecing together that she had caught onto his trail of excuses. “Yeah, just practicing,” he repeated softly, before his tone turned sincere and genuine. “I don’t want us to pretend anymore.”

“Good,” she said softly as her fingers slid up his neck to beckon his lips back down to hers. “I never was.”

“Neither was I.” She watched a soft smirk appear on his lips as they hovered over hers. “Do you want to keep not practicing?”

“Depends,” she quipped, lips brushing over his as she spoke. “Am I better kisser than Taylor Swift?

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING!! REBLOGS AND FEEDBACK MEAN THE WORLD!!!

An extra for our babies can be found here!

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wonlouvre · 4 years ago

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more for forever | k. mg.

pairing: editor-in-chief mingyu x female reader genre: fluff, a little bit of angst, cliché (in the sense that mingyu is rich and likes to spoil his girlfriend) warnings: mentions of insecurity, food word count: 2.8k

💌: this is just pure indulgence and i really hope you all like this! please wait for wonwoo because i have something in store for him too ;) again, this is cliché please forgive me. please tell me what you think about it hehe i love reading your comments, feedbacks and tags! also a big thank you to @minkwans for sharing their ideas and giving this oneshot life! <3

The name Kim Mingyu didn’t ring a bell before. Not until his executive assistant reached out to you because apparently, the photographer slash writer read one of your blog posts and wanted you to take part for their sixth year anniversary issue. You know the famous magazine and publishing company, which is why you thought it was a scam or a ploy to steal your money. It’s a stupid assumption but you can’t blame your mind imagining the worse because you are not a fashion blogger at all. Why would a fashion magazine want you to write an article for them?

Sure, you regularly write and post blog entries on your website. But you write about your dog, your recently bought tea coaster and sometimes your skincare routine. Okay, maybe your occasional outfit of the day as well but nothing in detail. Again, why do they want you to write for them?

Kim Mingyu answered your questions and uncertainties when he personally emailed his contact details to you. You didn’t have to bite, but it didn’t hurt to confirm at the same time. You dialed the number and he indeed proved you wrong. He invited you for a meeting at his office and you accepted.

Your visits to high-rise buildings, much more to the luxurious office of an executive, is rare to never. You were jaw slacked when your eyes took in the crisp architecture. The design, the furniture, the color, the everything was beyond what you could have imagined a publishing company’s headquarters could be.

The meeting was nothing but short of an interview. He asked about your blog (which does not even have its own domain by the way), he asked what else you write about, he asked about your desk job (which doesn’t pay much but enough for you to get by), he asked if you have any background about fashion and one last question about your dog, Max, before talking about his proposal.

To be honest, Mingyu’s offer was tempting. For one article, the commission would be enough for you to move out of your current apartment and move to a brand new and fully-furnished one. But you remained true to yourself and without thinking twice, you declined.

You can tell that the editor-in-chief and his assistant, who stood beside him all throughout, was surprised by the looks on their faces. But Mingyu respected your decision and didn’t pursue any further. You took your stand from the chair and sincerely thanked him for the time and opportunity. You thought that would be it but when he followed suit with your actions and reached his hand out, it was your turn to be surprised.

You didn’t hesitate to mirror him and shake his hand, firmly. After that, you’d figure that it’s the end and that you’ll probably get to see a glimpse of him only through your television or phone. But Mingyu proved you wrong once again when he sent an unexpected email three days later asking why.

What might be the reason why you didn’t accept his offer?

You believed he deserved an explanation of your personal reasons so you disclosed them. And just like that the conversation on that email thread naturally progressed and eventually deepened. The professional emails became casual text messages, the text messages became phone calls, and the phone calls became actual face to face dates at late hours of the evening because he usually clocks out at 9 o’clock.

The rest, as they say, was in the hands of history.

Your first date with Mingyu was particularly odd. It was at a traditional Korean restaurant owned by one of his friends who introduced himself as Angel even though his real name is Jeonghan. You didn’t question him or anyone else why because that’s none of your business. But back to the date. It was odd because you have never been to a restaurant that’s completely empty and dead silent before (aside of course, from the typical music played in the background). You asked Mingyu if such an occurrence is normal and he just plainly answered that he rented the whole place all to yourselves. You have always known he’s rich. However, you didn’t believe that booking the whole restaurant was necessary.

Nonetheless, that first date, in some way, was special for you because there were no distractions. You enjoyed his company and you can tell he enjoyed yours too because he’s quick to mention a second date and it didn’t take a heartbeat for you to say yes.

But, by far, Mingyu inviting you to the behind the scenes of the making of the sixth anniversary issue that you turned down writing for is one of the most memorable dates the two of you had. It was out of the blue and you two were having difficulty in syncing your schedules. He was beginning to get busier and busier as the anniversary neared and the only way he could think of still making time for you is inviting you to his office. He called you and asked if you’re free to have lunch together. And you, being attracted to the handsome and tall man, didn’t hesitate to say yes.

He was in the middle of ending his morning meeting when you arrived and you were almost caught off-guard when all eyes were suddenly on you, making you feel small. But Mingyu didn't care as his smile beamed, immediately standing up from his chair to walk towards you. The rest of his staff were still in the midst of walking out of his office when he grasped your hand to pull you inside and you have never felt so shy your whole life.

Since then, he made you tag along to the creative process and you witnessed how hands on he was with every article, every photo, every brand, every trend and every detail that goes to the magazine that he has built and loved with his blood, sweat and tears. He’s beyond dedicated in finding and doing what’s best for the magazine and most importantly, its loyal readers.

You can tell that he really is deserving of everything that he has and is still receiving.

Mingyu being perfect also applies to your relationship. He’s always present despite being booked with fittings, meetings, photoshoots and business travels twenty-nine days of the month. He never fails to call, never fails to answer your calls. He never fails to offer the warmest hugs and the softest kisses. Well, he fails to be on time during your dates sometimes but he never once stood you up and his cuddles when he sleeps over are enough to apologize for the lost time.

The only flaw he has is that he doesn’t know how to take no for an answer. Most especially at times where he wants to shower his love in ways that cost more than your paycheck in a year.

Here are some examples:

You know that Mingyu pays attention to every word you say. Even if you just mentioned a passing topic, he will do his best to keep those in mind. With that being said, you mentioned once that you want to renovate the extra bedroom of your apartment and turn it into a study where you could work someday. Your boyfriend, being the rich man he is, offered to hire and pay a team that could help you bring the design you envisioned into life.

That was during the first few months of your relationship and you were flabbergasted by how easy it was for him to do or much less say. Needless to say, you immediately turned him down and he respected that (but of course, he pouted about it like a child all throughout the day).

But wait, there’s more.

Do you remember how you mentioned that Mingyu travels frequently? Yes? Well, Mingyu always books an extra ticket for you just in case you want to join him. Sometimes it’s not even about the flight ticket anymore. It’s about him stopping by your apartment to pick you up unexpectedly as if France is only a drive away.

It’s unbelievable, really. That’s why you always close the door on his face. But of course, you don’t forget to give him a long kiss and “stay safe” or “I’ll miss you” farewell. Mingyu, ever the good boy he is, lets you win and just return your kisses a little longer for the days he won’t be able to do so.

Mingyu’s intentions are pure and you’re well aware that the man that you love is only doing this because it’s simple, he loves you. He wants what’s best for you, he wants to give you what you deserve. You can never blame him for being out of touch from reality at times, but you can learn and grow with him. Although of course, he still needs a scolding and a wake up call every now and then.

Anything else? Yes.

You didn’t take into consideration that he’d remember, but one night while the two of you were about to fall asleep, you sleepily mumbled about your dreams of attending graduate school. It was a mere whisper in the late night against his chest and you even thought that he wouldn’t hear you at all because his eyes were already closed. You honestly didn’t expect that he’d send you brochures of different universities who offer various programs the following day. You had to calm him down as he excitedly talked you through it. You even had to shut him up with your lips and explain that you don’t have the time to study at the moment with your current job. He tried to encourage you with praises and admiration of your dedication, skills and knowledge. But no, you didn’t buy it and that’s the end of discussion.

The gifts, however, are something that Mingyu is not giving up on. The first few instances he gave you gifts whether it be a high-end handbag, shoes, clothing, and even jewelry, you allowed him. Because there were only a few. But along the way, the gifts got bigger and more frequent. You had to sit him down to set limitations. It was a long conversation of him trying to get the upper hand. But you didn’t let him outsmart you with his hugs and kisses. It was either he was going to tone it down with the gifts or no gifts at all.

Sometimes, as much as you hate to admit it to yourself, you can’t avoid getting insecure and afraid that the euphoric time you share with Mingyu is not meant to last. At some point, the fact that he's one of the youngest successful editor-in-chiefs of a multi-million earning magazine got overwhelming. You can’t help but feel that you’re no match for him. And again, you hate that your mind gets clouded with ideas that you’re just a charity case he enjoys spending his money on. Of course, you believe that he doesn’t look at you in that way.

It’s you who thinks so.

“Hey.”

You release the bite on your bottom lip at the sound of your boyfriend’s voice. Your lost eyes shoot to the stove where he’s cooking and you notice that he’s about done so you should set the table.

You didn’t even answer Mingyu’s call which concerns him. He wipes the sauce off his hands on the apron he’s wearing and holds your waist before you could even round the corner to the cabinets.

His warmth snaps you out of your thoughts. Your eyes blink up to him and he just raises his eyebrows at you.

“Is there something wrong?” He asks and lowers the heat of the conduction.

“Nothing, nothing,” you lie, shaking your head, “Let me get the plates. I’m quite hungry.”

You try escaping his strong arms and gaze, but he doesn’t let you go. Instead, he wraps his arms around your waist tighter. Your palms automatically land on his chest and the lean muscles make you gulp.

“I’m going to ask again and this time, I want you to tell me the truth,” he says in a serious yet gentle tone. “What’s wrong?”

You sigh and lean your forehead against his chest. Mingyu also sighs and kisses the top of your head. It’s better to tell him now because you’re not going to get anywhere if you’re just going to keep it to yourself. It will be unfair for him too and that’s not what you want.

“I just don’t feel so good about myself over the past few days,” you finally voice out. You sound weak, but Mingyu can hear you loud and clear. “I feel like I don’t deserve you.”

Mingyu had to pull away and hold your shoulders to search your eyes, his frown showing disbelief and sadness both at the same time. “Did I do or say something to make you feel this way?”

“No, no,” you quickly say and hold his cheeks. “You did absolutely nothing. It’s just all in my head.”

Mingyu becomes silent and you wish you could just drop it because the regret and embarrassment is slowly dawning upon you. You wish you didn’t bring it up anymore because why would you burden him with your problems?

But Mingyu proves you wrong once again by holding your hand and carefully tugging you to sit on the dining table, saying softly, “Come on. Let’s talk about it.”

And talk you did. You let out your concerns, worries, fears and insecurities. You bore it all without hiding or masking anything. A tear or two slipped once or twice and some words were interrupted by your hiccups, but Mingyu was patient. He listened and held your hand, promising you that it’s okay. It’s okay to cry. It’s okay to be scared. It’s okay to be worried. It’s okay to be vulnerable in front of him. It’s okay to trust him because he loves you.

Mingyu loves you and his words and actions assure you that it’s okay to love him too.

When there were no more words left to say, the two of you shared a comfortable silence. The weight on your shoulders and the sick feeling in your stomach immediately vanished and you have never felt so relieved. You have never felt so free and loved. You can’t believe that Kim Mingyu is real.

“I know that this is unwarranted,” Mingyu breaks the silence after a while, “but I want you to know that I don’t think of you in any of those ways. To me, you’re the person I love and I am happy with regardless of our different upbringings, different jobs. Those don’t matter to the time and love we share together.”

“I know,” you affirm and kiss his cheek.

Mingyu nods and smiles against the palm of your hand when a memory suddenly pops in his mind. “I’m not sure if I have told you this already. But the blog entry of yours that caught my attention is about your first ever blog post.”

Your eyes widen at his confession. You have never heard of this before. “You mean the one where I talked about why I love writing so much?”

Your boyfriend smiles and nods. “That one.”

“Gosh. That’s so embarrassing,” you groan and palm your face.

“What do you mean embarrassing?” He argues, taking your hand to hold again. “That post was one of the most genuine posts that I have ever read. You explained, word by word, your passion, love and dedication to writing in the most honest way possible. Who wouldn’t be moved?”

You pout and unbeknownst to you, that makes his heart squeeze in adoration.

“It’s not that special,” you mumble, eyes on your intertwined hands.

“It is to me though.”

Mingyu’s eyes are dreamy and glossy as you meet them again and you could never be more in love. He holds your arms, coaxing you to stand up to straddle his lap. You giggle when he protectively wraps his arms around your waist. His nose scrunches when it grazes yours, but upon meeting his lips you feel it exhale a breath of relief.

You kissed and kissed and kissed. But when Max barks at the two of you, reminding you of the dinner you’re supposed to eat and share with him, the two of you burst into laughter before reluctantly detaching from each other.

“You doting over me with material things is a perk,” you humor him and he gives you his signature giggle. “But, I wouldn’t trade sharing the same bed, cooking meals or taking care of Max together over any of those.”

Mingyu nods gives you one last yet long kiss, a promise that there’s more for later.

More for forever.

---

a/n 2: this was supposed to be the header/poster of this story but it was too big lol

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detective-crescend · 4 years ago

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break up with your girlfriend (i’m bored)

There is a game that Klavier Gavin sometimes likes to play.

‘Likes’, however, may not be the appropriate term.

It isn’t a nice game, or one that makes him feel like a particularly good and decent person. And yet, when he wins—which he almost certainly does, on all but two notable occasions—the rush of chemicals that his victory incites within his clearly damaged mind will cover up all but the most persistent cries of outrage from what remains of his decaying moral compass.

It is a private challenge, it is a weakness he has long since conceded to… it is played like this:

There are plenty of people in the world who would love Klavier Gavin simply for what he represents. Conversely, there are people who will despise him for those very same reasons.

When the small voice in the back of his mind begins to speak too loudly—the one that sounds so very familiar, calm and leveled while it interrogates his every action—when he, in turn, begins to doubt himself, Klavier will search out the nearest member of the latter group. The more this individual seemingly dislikes him, the better the effect. And, having identified someone who must dislike Klavier more than he dislikes himself, he will do whatever is necessary to change that person’s opinion.

Sometimes it is as simple as attention and kindness, gifts and persistence; sometimes it is through a display of vulnerability or chagrin that is only somewhat manufactured for the moment. Though Klavier’s motivation for doing so is horrifically selfish, the goal is to be perfectly genuine in his search for their affection. It needs to be; only once his target has offered up their adoration can he tolerate himself once more. If it is a false version of Klavier that they are idolizing, it only strengthens the voice’s position inside his own mind.

The point of this game is emotional intimacy, not physical. Klavier has never been in the game of intentionally breaking hearts. One of the cardinal rules that he has set for himself, then, is that his appointed convert must be maintained as a friend, not a lover. In actuality, the majority of the rules pertain to limits and boundaries—monetary, time, distance, and attitude—or to create clear definitions of what constitutes a win or a loss of the game. It is important, Klavier feels, to keep things consistent among matches and, therefore, fair.

But, although Klavier has flourished in this diversion since his now distant childhood, he had also never encountered a contender quite like Apollo Justice before.

It wasn’t that Apollo was particularly difficult to read or to predict what it might take in order to shift his perception—on the contrary, Klavier had known exactly what needed to be done to achieve his goal almost immediately upon meeting the man. Whether or not Klavier is capable of it, however, is where the debate hinges.

There are rules that will need to be broken, for one thing, along with a set of small, concealed truths that must be unearthed—things that Klavier had long since been in the habit of burying below several layers of his own psyche. As of this moment, there are only two that Klavier has managed to excavate and examine with any sense of composure.

The first, that Apollo has beaten him so thoroughly in Klavier’s own game that their exchanges have ceased to be a game at all. Instead, they have taken on the frantic and impetuous nature of an entirely different emotion. Klavier’s desire to win Apollo’s affection had ceased to be a simple desire; it now felt like a need, pulsing bright and warm from somewhere so deeply within him that he had long since stopped believing it was possible to feel this way at all.

The second truth—both far more recently understood and infinitely more frightening—is that the aforementioned need may, in fact, be love.

It is not as pleasant an emotion as he had once anticipated, more like gnawing hunger that rumbled when Apollo was absent and roared with an open maw when he was nearby. It made Klavier indecisive and introspective in an entirely different way than the voice in his head, made him overthink every word he spoke and every thing he did when Apollo was nearby. It made him impulsive and greedy, wont to push his luck at every opportunity he could possibly take.

And, as luck would have it, this emotion was ruining any chance he could have with Apollo in the process.

“I am performing at a local studio tomorrow,” Klavier is attempting to begin one afternoon, in the immediate aftermath of a trial he has just lost. Though he’d meant the words to sound suave and unintentionally cool, the force of Apollo’s indifferent gaze strangles the words into an awkwardly insistent rush. “Would you like to come, as my guest? You may bring Fräulein Wright as well.”

Before him, Apollo’s dark eyes narrow, his hands still in the process of packing up the strewn remainder of his courtroom notes. “What kind of performance?”

“It is for a streaming service, ja?” Klavier replies, grinning through the nerve induced flips his stomach has been performing since the moment he opened his mouth. “They invite artists to come for an interview and to cover a song of the audience’s choice. There is usually free food and drinks.”

“So no Gavinner’s music?” Apollo looks skeptical.

“Nein, I promise.”

Another moment of cautious consideration is given before Apollo eventually, reluctantly, nods. “Trucy’ll kill me if she finds out I said no. Text me the address and time.”

Of course, it isn’t until hours after the requested message had been sent that Klavier thinks to check the status of the polls online that will decide the theme of his performance. One glance is all it takes to know that his invitation could be nothing but an absolutely terrible idea.

The damage, however, had been done.

As such, Klavier wakes the next morning with his emotions an odd amalgam of dread and anticipation that carries through the remainder of his day. By his arrival at the indicated studio—far earlier than the time he had provided to Apollo due to the ever-necessary addition of hair and makeup—Klavier is certain he has thought of nothing else the entire day other than Apollo’s arrival.

“Trucy couldn’t come,” Apollo says later, looking exceedingly uncomfortable in clothes other than his courtroom ensemble. It is the first time since the Guilty as Charged concert that Klavier has seen him in anything so casual; he had forgotten that, in the absence of hair gel and when wearing something that is not a shocking scarlet in hue, Apollo looks good. Good enough that Klavier is far from the only one casting surreptitious looks as they walk together from the lobby to the studio.

Those small glances are enough to send his imagination into a tailspin that, consequently, causes his response to be just moments too late to sound entirely casual. “But you still came.”

“I already said I would,” Apollo replies, ignoring the delay with a dismissive shrug. “It would’ve been rude to bail at the last second. Anyway, Trucy made me promise I’d record your song. When is it, by the way?”

“Twenty minutes—I won’t keep you for too long, ja?”

The problem is, during a performance, Klavier is practically incapable of any sort of critical thought at all. Years of practice have led to a near Pavlovian response to the appearance of a camera in his face; at just the glint of a lense reflection, any doubts or worries he had previously been wrestling with will be delicately tucked away to make room for the public persona Klavier presents to the world.

The same thing happens, here. Within moments of the interview starting, Klavier forgets about his apprehension in having Apollo present for this performance. By the time he eventually starts to sing, he’s forgotten about Apollo sitting just beyond the camera in a plastic folding chair all together.

The song picked for him to sing is almost certainly a joke, intentionally selected due to his recent and rather outspoken declaration of bisexuality. But Klavier has never been one to back down from a challenge or to let anyone know they’ve gotten under his skin. His take on Ariana Grande’s morally bankrupt classic is stripped down and irrevocably smoky, just the sound of Klavier’s voice and an electric guitar with absolutely zero changes to the lyrics, as was expected.

Klavier is not singing to Apollo, precisely—as far as he is aware, Apollo does not have a girlfriend from which to break up with—but a song will always sound better with some sort of emotion attached to it. Klavier has long been in the habit of searching any lyrics that are not his own for a handhold that he can grab on to relate to; here, the idea of wanting someone unavailable, no matter the cause, is an easy enough choice.

And things go seamlessly for the majority of the song. It isn't until nearly two minutes in, just as Klavier is finishing the bridge, that his gaze slips past the camera he has just recently glanced up into, and finds Apollo’s eyes wide and locked upon his. Perhaps it is not entirely professional, to maintain uninterrupted eye contact with the opposing counsel as the lyrics “you can hit it in the morning like it’s yours” are murmured seductively into the microphone bent towards one’s face. The suspicion is confirmed when, thirty seconds later, the song’s end is met by an uproar of applause from everyone except Apollo, who stands and leaves the room altogether.

“Stop messing with me,” Apollo shouts in the parking lot when Klavier has finally caught up with him. “I don’t know what you’re trying to do, I don’t know what sort of advantage you think you’re playing at, but stop.”

#day 2 of the ‘write everyday challenge’#idk who the dude singing this cover is but he’s got a nice voice #was going to try to finish this but we’re on day three now #so…. take it #idk where I was going with it anyway #sometimes i write things

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cafedanslanuit · 4 years ago

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♡ pairing — jumin han x gn!reader

♡ summary — jumin han is running for office. as it turns out, so are you.

♡ tags/warnings — political enemies to lovers, a bit suggestive, some angst, set after saeran’s after ending.

The first time you see Jumin Han is during an interview at a morning news channel. Your whole team is by your side, some of them taking notes while he spoke. Why would a businessman want to be Prime Minister? You don’t know but you don’t really care right now.

You scoff loudly when he starts talking about big data and AI and how they could be used in politics to make decisions.

You had been working since you were young to get where you were right now. You had gone to Law school with a scholarship and were chosen valedictorian. You had worked in politics the last ten years of your life, so to see the rich son of the CEO of one of the biggest companies waltz into the election like he’s supposed to be there just infuriates you.

The campaign is long and hard. You two never meet during interviews but you make sure to address the fact people aren’t numbers that can be predicted and that while big data can be helpful, you need to address the political and social nature and take them into account before making any decisions. You also mention Jumin’s lack of political experience but no matter how many interviews you go to, you see his numbers rising by the minute.

The debate is brutal. Even if you hate him, you have to admire how much his campaign chief worked because he had just the right information at any minute, information he used to win the debate. In a couple of weeks, he also won the election. You send out a congratulatory tweet to your opponent and then call the day off for you and your team, locking yourself in your apartment with a bottle of wine.

The very same night, you receive a phone call from none other than Jumin Han. He mentions how good of a job you did at your campaign and that he actually liked some of the ideas you had presented at the debate (the ones that weren’t opposed to his at least). He invites you to be a part of his team and you say you’ll think it over. The call ends and you take a swig from your wine bottle, wondering if it’s a good idea.

You end up accepting.

He invites you to dinner to go over the details and plans he has and you start realizing maybe he’s more than some entitled rich kid. There’s something that seems to be motivating him, something that sparked his political ambition and you’re determined to find out what it was.

Even though you see him every day at his new prime minister’s office, you end up having dinner with him two or three times a week. At first it’s because he doesn’t really have time to go over certain details with you, but soon enough the conversations start getting more personal.

You confess to growing up with little to no money and having to work your ass off to get a scholarship. He mentions having to resign from his position at C&R to be able to take care of his friends. You start remembering the whole scandal around his company and the previous Prime Minister. He talks briefly about the Choi twins, who you have only heard about from the news and he shows you a picture of them and a girl sitting on a field, big smiles on their faces.

Jumin's expression softens as he remembers the fate of every one of their friends. You learn that the twins and the girl are living in the countryside and are happy, Zen, the actor, is now on Broadway and Yoosung, a younger friend of his, is studying in Paris. Jaehee is the only one who stayed and the person he trusts the most.

There are so many things to learn about Jumin Han. You notice he always wears stripes and that his thirst for knowledge is never ending. His humour is refreshing and you find yourself laughing at his remarks. You see him a lot more relaxed during your dinners than at the office and start to long for the time you get to share a dinner with him.

You start wishing wondering if maybe, just maybe, there was a chance his lingering eyes on your face as you speak during dinner are more than just professional admiration.

A year goes by and you get to meet Chairman Han. He is a perfect gentleman with you and joins you and Jumin for dinner. He asks you if you’re single and not so casually mentions Jumin is as well, and he would love for such a capable and intelligent person as you to be a part of his family. You confirm you are single but make no comment about his son, hoping your burning cheeks don’t give you away.

Later that night, Jumin texts you and apologizes for his father’s behaviour. You call him to dissipate his worries away but you end up talking with him about everything and nothing deep into the night.

The day Jumin confesses his feelings is after an allnighter. You are the only ones in the office, dealing with a lot of paperwork and working on a proposal for a crisis the country is facing. Jumin orders in your favourite snacks and you make coffee for both of you as you keep working. It’s 6 am when you finally finish so you both just sit at his office and watch the sunrise together.

“I’ve really come to care about you a lot more than I planned,” he says and you smile at him.

“Thank you?” you tease.

“I think I’ve fallen in love with you.”

He says so in such a calming voice you wonder if he’s joking. Your head is turned to him, lips parted in surprise, your eyes big and cheeks flushed.

“Which is probably going to be a huge problem with HR,” he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. You can’t help but laugh at his comment and he looks back at you, raising an eyebrow.

“I’ve fallen in love with you too, Jumin.”

Jumin is surprisingly good at managing a relationship in the workplace. After he makes sure everything is good with HR, he treats you as just another worker while you’re in the office, leaving the kisses and soft touches for the privacy of his penthouse. It’s a little strange for you at first but you adapt and learn to admire him even more than before.

It doesn’t take long before it’s public knowledge (of course Jumin had to mention something about the nature of your relationship during an interview). Photographers follow you around and you see your face in magazines already calling you the first lady. You roll your eyes but can’t help the smile that crawls up to your face every time.

Sundays at Jumin’s apartment were a dream come true. Breakfast is made of fresh coffee imported from Colombia, homemade strawberry pancakes from your lover’s hands and you wearing nothing but one of his shirts and your underwear around his penthouse.

You teach him how to dance in the kitchen and even make him look for you around the house in a version of hide-and-seek, only he gets to kiss you every time he finds you. Jumin orders lunch for both of you and watches you ramble about whatever you want, an enamoured look on his face.

You make love on his bed as the sun is setting, golden hour hitting Jumin’s face in such a way you feel you’re falling for him once more. He’s gentle and warm, holding you in such a way you can just know he’s never letting you go.

You know he’s told you before you’re the first person he’s ever been intimate with but if he hadn’t, you wouldn’t have had trouble believing he had previous experience. The way his fingers trace your skin and take the time to learn every inch of your body, paying attentio to every moan and shudder is heaven-sent.

Jumin is always focused on your pleasure rather than his own and will make it his case for you to come undone for him several times the moment you step a foot inside his bedroom.

Jumin Han’s ideas and work ethics are accepted by the people. They’ve noticed good changes around the country and how transparent he is about everything he does, the data of his plans always open to the public. They also notice your influence on some of the decisions he makes and even if it’s a couple of years away, there are already rumours about a reelection.

You tease Jumin about running again one day during dinner.

“I’ve actually given that some thought,” he admits. “But I’d rather have you run this time with me on the sidelines.”

You kiss him over the table.

Jaehee is a saint and you end up forming a friendship with her as well. You even convince Jumin to give her a week off and she goes to see Zen on Broadway. Zen and Jaehee went for a couple of drinks after the show and you notice the lack of photographs from the bar compared to the amount she had from before the show. Jaehee avoids your questions and then ends the call when you start teasing her about getting laid and if Zen used his wolf ears on bed too.

One of the off days you sleep at your apartment rather than Jumin’s, you find a package waiting for you. It’s a few days old, reminding you how little time you actually spend there. Jumin’s offer for you to move in with him replays on your mind but you wave it off, not wanting to rush anything and potentially ruin the best thing that has happened to you in the last few years.

You take the package to your living room and prepare a cup of coffee before you open it. There’s no name on it but yours and you start to get worried. Before getting more ideas, you open it and see a huge stack of papers. They are all part of an investigation you’ve heard about.

You have no idea why someone would send you information about the last Prime Minister and the RFA.

It’s almost 3 am when you end up revising all the documentation. There’s a missed call and an unopened message from Jumin you didn’t have the heart to answer. Not after all you’ve been reading.

“Can I please speak to you privately?” you say the minute you enter his office the next morning. Your stern voice makes everyone quickly walk away and Jumin raises his eyebrow at you. You lock the door behind you and walk over your boyfriend’s desk.

“You didn’t answer my calls last night,” he mentions but you ignore him, rather taking a seat in front of him.

“I want you to be honest with me, Jumin.” The lack of a term of endearment makes him squint his eyes. “I want you to be honest out of respect for the amount of time we’ve been working together and out of the love you say you have for me.”

“I am not a liar.”

“Did you really use your money and influence to get Jihyun Kim out of jail?”

Jumin and you stare at each other in silence, both of your faces hiding the turmoil of emotions behind.

“Rika is at a mental hospital,” you continue. “And you paid for Jihyun Kim’s lawyers and he got released in just a couple of weeks. His status or location is now unknown. So I’m asking: Jumin, did you get Jihyun Kim out of jail after he participated in a cult and helped Rika kidnap and torture people, including the Choi twins?”

Jumin crossed his legs, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Jihyun has been my friend since we were children—”

“I asked you a question.”

“How did you get all that information? Saejoon Choi’s testimony was private to the public.”

“You seem to have more enemies than you thought.”

“But who would—”

“Answer me!” you interrupt me, raising your voice. You take a deep breath to calm yourself. “Just answer, Jumin,” you plead.

His eyes look down and then back to your eyes. You think you must have really been in love with him to think there was a possibility the papers that were sent to you were forged.

“Yes,” he sentences.

"I trusted you. I thought you wanted to make things right, to make people accountable. You said so during your campaign, you said so to me,” you confront him, your heart breaking in a million pieces. “I looked up to you. I respected you. Looks like you're just like every other silver spoon."

Jumin stays in silence as he watches you leave the office. When Jaehee comes back, he realizes he’s been looking at the door the past couple of hours. She confirms you’ve left the building and also handed out your resignation letter. She doesn’t dare to ask what happened and he makes a point not to address the situation either.

You never ask for your stuff back. There’s a couple of books you had been reading, your slippers and a rose gold robe he had given you for cold days. He puts them all in a box and sends you the package.

He is not surprised when you return it, along with the documentation that was sent to you.

The next time he sees you is during an interview on the morning news. He’s sitting along with his team, watching you announce your campaign for the next term. The lady in front of you asks why did you decide to leave his team.

You give her one of your political smiles (Jumin has learnt to recognize every one of them) and shake your head softly.

“I don’t think it’s okay for me to disclose that,” you answer.

Jumin wonders if that means you still love him.

#mystic messenger #mysme #jumin han #jumin x reader #jumin x mc #mysme jumin #mm jumin #jumin han x reader #jumin han x mc

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after-avenging-hours · 5 years ago

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Out of Time [5]: Steve x Reader

Series Masterlist with dates on chapter releases - tag list will not be used for this series

Summary: After Steve gets injected with a mysterious substance during a mission gone wrong, you come to find out that the only thing that can save his life is a pure sample of Dr. Erskine’s Super Soldier Serum. Unwilling to let the love of your life die without a fighting chance, you travel through the quantum realm back to 1943. Equipped with little more than your knowledge of past events, you have to figure out just how exactly you’re going to get your hands on that serum. Not only that, but with the infinity stones no longer protecting the reality you’ve come from, there is now a chance that your presence in the past can change the future you’ll return to. Can you succeed without messing things up? And if things go wrong, can you fix it before it’s too late? Or will you run out of time…

Word Count: 4719

Warnings: none

The next few days seem to pass in a frenzy and before you know it, it’s already Saturday. Steve had asked you in the morning if you wanted to catch a movie with him later and it nearly killed you to have to refuse him. It was hard to miss the look of longing that had developed in his gaze whenever he looked at you ever since the two of you shared that dance. You felt that very same longing down to your very soul.

You would give just about anything to be able to stay here, living in a bubble of bliss. To protect him from all the horrors you know he will face if he fulfills his destiny. But you know you can’t do that. In fact, you have to do quite the opposite. You have to do everything in your power to make sure that it all still happens.

So, you’d started dropping little hints here and there. Trying to encourage him to try for recruitment again. Talking about the war effort and how bad they needed more soldiers. Groaning about how none of the people showing up at the recruitment center are a good fit for the program you work for. You make sure to get it into his head that fighting in the war isn’t about killing the most people in order to win, it’s about stopping bad people from doing even worse things.

By the time you’re walking into the Recruitment Center Saturday morning, all that’s left to do is hang onto that faith like you’re always telling Dr. Erskine. You have to believe that things are going to go right, otherwise, you’re not sure what you’re going to do.

The center is a madhouse all day long, which certainly helps to keep you distracted. The Fair has brought droves of people into the area. Dr. Erskine gives you a pat on the shoulder in passing between interviews and comments that this had been a pretty good idea. You certainly were seeing new faces today. Some good, most… not quite. There were several groups of men coming in with their friends, rowdy from the alcohol provided at the Fair, and boasting about how they were going to be the guy to win the war. Those ones tended to be a little handsy. You may have accidentally broken a few fingers.

When Erskine caught onto what was happening, he’d sent you out to run a perimeter check to give you some space. At that point, night had already fallen. The Fair looked even more magnificent under the cover of night. The buildings were lit up like Christmas trees and they had fireworks going off in the distance.

“Excuse me, Miss?” you hear a familiar voice and turn to see one Sgt. James Barnes dressed to the nines in his military uniform. “I’m looking for my friend, Steve. He was just with us at the Stark show but then disappeared. He’s blonde, kinda thin, always walks around with his head down. Have you seen him by any chance?”

You have to calm the pounding of your heart before you can respond. “Um, yes… I think I saw him heading toward the Recruitment Center,” you tell Bucky. Even though you hadn’t actually seen him, you know that’s where he must be.

Bucky frowns, sighing in irritation. “That little punk,” he mutters under his breath. You’re pretty sure you weren’t supposed to hear that and have to refrain from smirking. “Uh, thank you,” he nods, backing away and heads in the direction of the center, the two women with him following behind.

It takes everything in you not to go rushing over there yourself to make sure things are going according to plan. You have to make sure your presence can’t interfere with Dr. Erskine seeing Steve for the first time. You complete a full lap around the Fair, hoping that will have killed enough time before you start to make your way back.

You watch a figure heading your way and come to a stop.

“This is me not sneaking up on you,” Howard proclaims, hands raised in innocence.

“Mr. Stark,” you greet, smiling in amusement. “How was your show? Did you blow them out of the water?” you ask, using his turn of phrase against him.

“Well, something certainly blew,” he laughs good-naturedly. “I take it, you saw what happened?”

You shake your head, “No, but I’ve certainly heard all about it.”

“News travels fast.”

“I happen to be in a unique position where knowing exactly what happens, and when, can mean a matter of life or death,” you tell him frankly.

“Well, then I guess I better let you get back to work. Maybe we can get drinks sometime when death is no longer on the table,” he grins.

“Have a good evening, Mr. Stark,” you dismiss, beginning to step around him to continue on your way.

“Vic?” You look up to catch Steve coming out of the Recruitment Center. His gaze flickers over your shoulder to watch the man you’d just been speaking with walk away. “You know Howard Stark?”

You walk up to him, shrugging your shoulders casually. “He’s more of an acquaintance,” you explain. More like an annoyance.

“I just…” his brow furrows and he frowns. “I don’t understand what you’d be doing, hanging around a guy like me when you know a man like that.”

“Steve,” you step up to him, placing your hands on his shoulders. It doesn’t escape your notice how he’d referred to himself as just a guy, but Howard as a man. “I love that you don’t have an ego the size of Texas, like most men in this world, but you really need to start giving yourself more credit.”

He smiles wryly. “I’ll try and work on that. This certainly helps,” he lifts up a brown folder that he carries and hands it to you.

You open it to find his enlistment papers. It’s stamped with 1A on the bottom and has Dr. Erskine’s signature for approval. The relief you feel is so immense you could just about collapse right now. “Steve, that’s amazing!” you tell him, sharing his excitement.

“I ship out to Camp Lehigh tomorrow morning.”

You close the folder and hand it back to him, “Well, then. I guess I’ll see you there,” you grin.

“You will?” he questions in surprise.

“I told you that I was only in New York for the week. Wherever Dr. Erskine goes, I go.”

Steve feels a strange sense of relief knowing that he’ll still get to be around you, and this isn’t goodbye, just yet. “Do you really think I’ve got a shot at this? You said you were looking for soldiers with a specific skillset. Why would Dr. Erskine choose me?”

“Because of this,” you tap a finger against his temple. “And because of this,” you drop your hand to tap at his chest. “Anyone can pick up a gun and follow orders. You have to be more than that. This isn’t about strength or bravery. This is about knowing the value of a life before you decide to take it. I’m not saying that this next week is going to be easy for you. In fact, it’s probably going to be very difficult. But you have to show them that you’re more than the sum of your parts. I know you can do this, Steve. You’re destined for greatness.”

You catch the way his eyes dip to your lips but barely have enough time for that to register before he’s leaning in and pressing his lips to yours. Not expecting him to do that, you stiffen up from the shock. Steve reacts almost immediately, pulling back with a panicked look on his face. “I’m so sorry. I thought-”

You grab his face in both of your hands and smash your lips back onto his. You kiss him long and slow, just the way you know he likes it. You can feel his inexperience in the way he’s slow to respond. He nearly drops the folder in his hands, remembering at the last second to grip it tighter with one hand as the other falls to your hip. Your tongue darts out to lick tentatively at his plump lower lip. He tastes salty, like popcorn from the fair. You feel his entire body shiver when your tongue swipes against his lips again.

His heart feels like it’s going to beat right out of his chest and he’s getting dizzy from lack of oxygen, but he doesn’t want this to stop. You make the decision for him, when you pull back, your nose brushing tenderly against his. He has to blink several times as the haze clears from his mind before he meets your hooded gaze. “Wow…” he breathes. “I- that was… wow.”

You can’t help but giggle at how adorable he is. “Right back at ‘cha,” you wink.

His lips split into a dopey grin. He knows that he must look like an idiot, but he’s past the point of caring. “How much longer do you have to stay?” he asks.

You look down at your watch. “Maybe another hour or so.”

“I can wait if you want to go home together?” he asks, hope shining in his eyes.

Your gaze softens, “I’d like that. Why don’t you finish checking out the Fair and then meet me back here?”

“Okay,” he agrees, eyes flickering down to your lips once more.

Unable to help yourself, you lean in for another kiss. He kisses back a little more fervently. When you pull back, you have to physically distance yourself by stepping away from him, otherwise, you’d never let him leave. “See you in an hour,” you smile.

“Yeah,” he nods once, walking backward a few steps before turning to head back to the Fair exhibits. For the first time, he walks with his shoulders back and his head held high. There’s almost even a bounce to his steps. He glances once over his shoulder and grins when he sees that you’re still watching him.

“So, that is the one, huh?”

You start at the sound of Dr. Erskine’s voice, not having heard him walking up to you. “Hmmm?” you question, unsure if he’s asking whether you think Steve is the one for Project Rebirth, or what exactly.

He grins and gives you a knowing look. “The man capable of holding your interest. You have good taste.”

You laugh nervously, your blood heating in embarrassment. “Didn’t I say you might meet him one day?”

He chuckles. “Yes, well. It would have saved me quite a few gray hairs if you had brought him over a lot sooner.”

You grin widely at that. “Sorry, Doctor,” you apologize with a light laugh. “But it needed to be his own decision to come. He wouldn’t have accepted if he thought the offer had been handed to him because of me.”

“I can understand that,” he nods along to your words. “Well, why don’t you take the rest of the evening off and go enjoy the fair with your man?”

You look up at him in surprise. “Really?”

He smiles fondly down at you. “You won’t have much time to spend with him once we’re at the base. And I can now rest easy, knowing there is a candidate that I can truly put my faith in.”

“I thought scientists didn’t believe in faith.”

He shrugs his shoulders. “This one may have changed his mind.”

You smile victoriously.

“Just make sure he’s not late for the bus tomorrow morning. You and I can head for Camp Lehigh afterward.”

“Of course,” you nod.

“Enjoy your evening, Vic,” he dismisses you, beginning to turn back toward the Recruitment center.

“Thank you, Doctor,” you call after him.

He waves you off before you turn and excitedly hurry toward the direction Steve disappeared to. It takes a minute to find him in the large crowd. It’s definitely not as easy to spot him without those broad shoulders. Eventually, you catch sight of his blonde head of hair and make your way over. You approach him from behind and loop your arm through his.

His head swings over to you, surprise lining his features until his eyes meet yours. “Hey!” he greets you with a toothy grin.

“Erskine gave me the rest of the night off,” you grin back.

“Oh, well do you want to head home now, then?”

You shake your head, still smiling. “No. I want to see the Fair and share a bag of popcorn with my best guy.”

Steve starts to look around. “Well, is he meeting us here, or…” he pretends not to know who you’re talking about.

“Steve!” you laugh and slap his shoulder.

He laughs too. His eyes flicker all over your face and you can almost feel their caress. “I’ve never been anyone’s best guy before.”

“Would a kiss help to convince you?”

“It might.”

You happily lean in until your lips are pressed to his. You keep this one sweet, but short, not wanting to cause a scene that might embarrass you both. “How about now?” you ask, tilting your head to rest your forehead against his.

“I think I’m getting there.” His words tickle your cheeks.

You laugh, pulling back. With your arm still linked through his, you tug Steve toward the closest popcorn stand. He holds the bag while you happily munch on the salty snack and look around at the exhibits. You find it absolutely hilarious how dated all of these latest and greatest inventions all are. It’s almost difficult to keep it to yourself.

You’re highly amused and thoroughly enjoying yourself, but your internal commentary is far more entertaining than the actual exhibits. Mostly, you’re just enjoying what little time you have left with Steve. As the crowds begin to thin out and the night air starts to grow colder, you and Steve decide that it’s time to head back home.

The two of you walk through the door hand in hand. You feel lighter than air and you’re just so happy that you can now kiss him whenever you want. And you did. Multiple times on the journey home. The blissed-out expression hasn’t left his face all night and it just makes you want to kiss him even more. The way your heart pounds in your chest makes this feel like new love, even though you’ve been in love with him for years.

You’re barely able to let go of each other long enough to get ready for bed. And even once you are both tucked away for the night, you’re more wrapped up in each other than in the blankets. You pull out of, yet another, lengthy lip-lock. He’s getting better with each one, picking up on your cues and responding in kind. It makes you feel like a teenager all over again. Making out with your boyfriend in the dark. Getting drunk and giggly off of his kisses. Steve is breathless by the end of every one, but like a champ, he keeps coming back for more.

“We should sleep,” you whisper, trying to be the voice of reason. “You need to be at the bus station bright and early and you still need to pack.”

“Just one more,” he insists, leaning forward and stealing your lips back. You can’t protest and he damn well knows it. With your hand at the back of his neck, your nails scratch at the shorter hairs right at his nape. His own hand presses against the middle of your back, pushing your body even closer to his. You can feel his arousal against your lower abdomen, but he doesn’t act on it. If you thought he was ready for it, you’d try to get him to, but for now, you’re content with just kissing him.

You pull back once again. While he catches his breath, you duck your head down, tucking it beneath his chin and bury your face into his chest. “Okay, now we’re really going to sleep,” you urge, safely tucked out of reach.

“Fine,” he sighs stubbornly, tilting his head to rest his cheek against your hair.

You laugh and your breath causes his skin to tingle. “Good night, Steve.”

You can hear the smile in his voice as he responds. “Sweet dreams, Vic.”

A content hum leaves your throat as your muscles begin to relax. “Who needs sweet dreams when this is so much better?”

For the first time in a long time, Steve falls asleep with a smile on his face.

The two of you pack up together when morning comes. You’ve slipped back into your military uniform and have taken the dark green dress coat out of your suitcase to help cover the mended bullet holes in your shirt and to make room for you to pack away your toiletry bag and first aid kit.

You look around Steve’s bedroom to make sure you’ve got everything. The glint of metal catches your eye from the top of the dresser inside the closet. Stepping closer, you find that it’s the pistol you took from those Hydra agents at the beginning of the week. God, that feels like a lifetime ago. Glancing around to make sure you’re still alone, you grab the gun and take it to your suitcase. It may come in handy later. You pull out the magazine and check the chamber before tucking the gun away and closing up the suitcase.

Lifting it by the handle, you walk out of Steve’s room. You pause as you enter the living room, smiling at the sight before you. Steve is sitting cross-legged on the floor next to his bookshelf. His suitcase is only half-filled with clothing and he’s packing books into the other half.

“You’re probably going to be the only person showing up with books in their suitcase,” you laugh lightly.

He looks up from the two books he has in either hand and grins. “You’re the one that said I should stand out.” He puts one book into the case and places the other back on the shelf.

“Valid point.” You move to set your suitcase down by the front door. “You almost ready?”

“Almost.” He reaches up to grab a picture frame that sits on top of the bookshelf, next to the radio.

“Is that your parents?” you ask, looking at the black and white photo over his shoulder. It shows a pretty blonde woman and a man dressed in a World War I uniform.

“Yeah. They took this the day he shipped out. Ma was already pregnant with me, but didn’t know it, yet.” Turning the frame around, he unlatches the back door and pulls the photo out. He tucks it for safekeeping under the hardcover of one of his books before placing the empty frame back on the shelf.

He pulls the trunk closed and flips the latches to lock it shut. He then pushes up onto his feet with a small grunt. “Well, I guess I’m as ready as I can get. I still kind of feel like I’m not completely sure what I’m getting myself into.”

You can’t help but laugh at that. “Just think of this as your next adventure.”

You each carry your own suitcases out of the apartment and Steve turns around to lock the front door. You take one last look at the place. If everything goes according to plan, you’ll never end up back here. It’s a bittersweet feeling. You may have only stayed here for a week, but it was long enough to make this place feel like a home to you. You’re going to cherish the memories that were created here.

“Shall we?” Steve asks after making sure that the door is securely locked.

“We shall,” you nod, taking his hand in yours and carrying your suitcase with the other. The two of you walk down the steps and out onto the street, hailing a taxi next. The driver pulls over and steps out to help you place your bags into the trunk of the car. Steve holds the door open for you to take a seat in the back before sliding in after you.

He gives the driver instructions to take you both to the bus depot where he’s been told to report. As the taxi takes off, you notice the way Steve’s leg bounces up and down. You’re not sure if it’s from nerves or because he’s excited. It may be a little of both. Reaching over, you take his hand back into yours, threading your fingers between his.

He turns away from the window to meet your gaze, smiling softly when he sees you looking tenderly back at him. He lifts your entwined hands up and presses a kiss to your knuckles.

The taxi soon pulls up to the front of the bus depot. At the back of the turn-about area, you can see that the bus destined for Camp Lehigh is already waiting, a line of men stand out front getting their bags loaded into the side of the bus before boarding. You step out of the taxi from your side and help Steve pull his case from the back. He sets it down on the edge of the sidewalk before turning back to you.

“I’ll see you there, Soldier,” you tell him, placing a chaste kiss to his lips.

“Don’t go easy on me, okay?” he requests.

You smirk openly, “It’s not me you need to worry about.” A picture of Colonel Phillips comes to mind.

He scoffs out a laugh. “Well, don’t tell anyone to go easy on me.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” you grin, amused by his request. He never likes having things handed to him. “Good luck.”

He grins wide, lifting his suitcase and taking a step back. “I don’t need luck. I’ve got Lady Victory on my side.”

Your heart stops as you’re overwhelmed with a sense of déjà vu. You’ve heard him say that before. Multiple times. It was basically his default response whenever anyone told him ‘good luck’ during missions. He’d say it with that same cheeky grin and that twinkle in his eyes.

It had to be a coincidence. Right?

Steve is already out of earshot by the time your mind restarts and your default response comes tumbling out. “Love you too, Cap.”

Your heart clenches as your mind begins to race. Is there a deeper meaning here? Something that you’re missing, maybe?

“Where to, Miss?” the taxi driver pulls you out of your thoughts, eager to keep things moving.

“Right…” you pull your focus and get back into the vehicle. You give him the address to Dr. Erskine’s apartment in Queens. The doctor told you to meet him there before an SSR designated driver would show up to take you both to Camp Lehigh.

You watch Steve’s figure through the car window until the taxi pulls out, your mind still racing. It had to just be a coincidence, you surmise and try to push the thought from your mind.

You spend the drive down with Dr. Erskine going over the testing rubric for the recruits. It’s heavily weighted toward the strength side of the spectrum and it makes you wonder just how exactly Steve manages to pull this off. Your Steve never really mentioned much about what actually happened at Camp Lehigh. All he said was that it had been a grueling and intense week of testing and training that his body definitely hadn’t been prepared for. And yet, it also ended up being the best thing that ever happened to him.

As the car pulls onto the base, it drives past all the soldiers marching in formation and standing at attention out on the main field. The driver eventually comes to a stop right outside the officer quarters. You step out of the car on your side and walk around the back to re-join Dr. Erskine. The two of you look over toward the front door of the building where Colonel Phillips is now stepping out.

“Doctor, welcome back.” He greets stepping up to you both and shaking Erskine’s hand. “Who’s this?” he questions, giving you a brief side glance.

“Agent V, sir,” you introduce yourself with a salute.

“She’s my personal assistant,” Erskine explains.

“Since when do you have a personal assistant?”

Erskine gives him a hard look. “Since you gave me only a week to find a candidate.”

Colonel Phillips releases a sigh, “Yeah, I saw them come in. I’m pretty sure I know which one you picked.” He places his hands on his hips and stares you down. “Agent “V”, huh. That short for something?”

You stare back, unflinching. “Victory, sir.”

“Oh boy,” he rolls his eyes. “That sounds like some sorta BS that New York Senator would cook up.”

You have to bite your tongue to keep in the snark.

“Lieutenant, please escort Agent V to her quarters. She’ll be bunking with Agent Carter,” Colonel Phillips orders a passing soldier before turning back to Erskine. “You and I are going to talk about these candidates.”

You turn to find that your driver has already pulled your suitcase from the back of the car for you. You give him your thanks as you take it and then follow the Lieutenant inside. The soldier leads you to a door at the very end of the hall, to the left. You knock once on the door.

“Come in,” you hear from inside.

Turning the knob, you push open the door and step inside. The room looks similar to a college dorm. Two matching twin-sized beds, two matching desks, two sets of drawers. There’s a door immediately to the right, which you assume is the bathroom.

Peggy sits at the desk closest to the door, various papers spread across its surface. “Can I help you?” she asks, pushing her chair out to stand.

“I’m Agent V,” you introduce yourself. “I’m here as Dr. Erskine’s assistant. Colonel Phillips instructed me to stay here.”

“A pleasure to meet you, I’m Agent Carter.” She reaches her hand out to greet you.

You have to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from smiling like an absolute idiot. You never dreamed you’d get to meet this woman. She was an absolute legend amongst female SHIELD Agents.

“God knows we could certainly use another woman around here,” Peggy smiles, gesturing for you to come further into the room. “Sheets for your bed should be in the top drawer to the right. Make yourself at home.”

“Thank you,” you smile kindly. You glance at the paperwork on her desk as you pass by before you set your suitcase down next to your bed. “Are you looking over the reports for the new recruits?”

“Yes,” she stands next to the desk and brushes her fingers over the papers. “Colonel Phillips has made it clear that we are picking our subject from this group. We won’t see the men until tomorrow morning, but just based on their recruitment reports, it’s obvious there’s one that doesn’t seem to belong with the rest.”

You can’t help but chuckle under your breath. “You’re talking about Steve Rogers, aren’t you?” Peggy looks up from the paperwork to meet your gaze. “Dr. Erskine picked Rogers out himself.”

She nods, “I saw the signature of approval, I just can’t figure out why.”

You grin widely, “I think you’ll know by the end of the week.”

She finds herself matching your smile. “Well, now I’m intrigued.”

You laugh briefly and turn to get your suitcase unpacked and your bed made. Steve had once told you that the romance portrayed between himself and Agent Carter had been purely propaganda for the media. Sure, he’d respected the hell out of her, but he only ever saw her as a friend. And supposedly, the feelings had been mutual, so you had no reason to feel threatened by her presence.

“Where are the recruits now?” you ask while stuffing your pillow into a white cotton pillowcase.

“Getting fitted for their uniforms and having their dog tags stamped out. After that, they’ll spend the next several hours filling out paperwork.”

You release a low hum, “Lucky them.”

Part 6

#steve rogers x reader #pre serum steve x reader #40s steve x reader #captain america x reader

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demigodlunar · 4 years ago

Text

Scars - Chapter 3

Wow, people have already read this sooo fast! Thanks so much, I appreciate it :D

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Chapter 3 - Take Over With Grace

“Mr. Grace?”

Jason was jerked out of his fantasies of being a normal child- for about the millionth time- when he heard his last name being tossed out carelessly in the large crowd.

He shielded his eyes from the camera’s flash setting and the just the sight of the showy clothes of the countless paparazzi and media that were here for the interview.

“Mr. Grace, what do you have to say about the shares in the stock market for Olympic Inc. going down last week?”, one of the nameless news reporters asked, arousing another round of nods and agreement.

And once again, Jason sighed in relief that the question wasn’t directed towards him. He was Mr. Grace, yes.

But not to the public. To the public, Jason was just a secretary or student intern that happened to be at the interview. No one important. His father, Zeus Grace, was the one that was being bombarded by questions.

Jason could hear his father's loud and commanding voice over the racket of the others, answering the question with a calm, precise tone and reassuring words. He gulped, being reminded once again that this could- would- be him soon.

The annoying little voice in the back of his head whispered again, you’re almost 18. Almost time to take over the company.

Jason tried to keep the headache at bay. He hated the fact that soon, he wouldn’t be a normal 18-year-old boy without a care in the world. After he graduated from high school next year, Jason’s father wouldn’t even bother sending him to college. He would take over Olympic Inc. the moment he threw his square graduation cap in the air.

Jason could remember a distinct memory from when his parents were still talking to each other.

~~~~~~~~~~

8-year-old Jason Grace peeked out from behind the door to stare into the living room, where his parents were yelling at full volume, not even caring to lock the door or try to reduce their voices to not scare the children.

“He’s just 8 years old,” his mother, Beryl Grace, screamed, “A child! You can’t bring him into all your business and politics, I won’t allow it!”

“He’s my child, so I will decide whether I start teaching him how to take over the company when he’s older, and introduce him to the press.”, Zeus yelled back with just as much vigor.

“Your child! YOUR CHILD!” Beryl screeched, “He’s my child too! You already told the world about Thalia and now she can’t even leave the house without the media asking her if she’s going to take over the company!”

Jason winced at his mother’s voice, not even understanding what they were so upset about. If they could just talk it out, maybe they could come to an understanding.

“Thalia will not be taking over the company,” Zeus argued, taking on a defensive tone, “I vowed only my first-born son would be the head. Besides, Thalia wouldn’t want to take over. Once I tell the media that Jason will be the new CEO, they will get off her case.”

“And then what about Jason? Then they start stalking him? AT 8?” Beryl yelled, screaming a string of words that almost made Jason’s ears bleed afterward.

“Fine,” Zeus said, deadly calm, “Until Jason is legally an adult, we will keep him hidden from the public. I will still teach him what he needs to know, but he can be seen as a normal boy at least until then. Then, he will take over the company.”

Jason stood there, trying to figure out what “take over the company” and “new CEO” meant. Now, Jason was a smart boy, but this seemed to stump him. Would he become like Daddy? Working all the time and wearing those tight looking suits and ties?

Ew.

Jason didn’t want to do that, that seemed boring.

He turned his attention back to his parents in the living room, and they had calmed down excessively. He tuned into the conversation to hear what they were saying.

“... you take Thalia and I will take Jason,” Zeus said, holding his hand out to Beryl.

She stared at it for a couple of seconds before grabbing it and shaking it briskly, “Deal, but they have to be able to meet. They love each other, you know.”

Zeus sighed, “Of course, every Saturday and Sunday?”

Beryl nodded and she started walking to the door that Jason was hiding behind. Jason jumped back as she pushed it open and walked up to Thalia’s room.

The next hour was a blur and all he remembered was Thalia crying and yelling that she didn’t want to go, and that made Jason cry too. He didn’t like to see his sister cry, she was really good to him. After they both calmed down, Jason learned a new word.

Divorce. It rolled off his tongue but in a bad way. When your parents left and lived in different houses.

Well, Jason thought, At least I will get to see them still.

But living with his dad was something that Jason never got used to.

~~~~~~~~~~

Jason was startled out of the memory when a finger snapped under his nose three times in quick succession. He looked up bewildered at the snapper. Thalia grinned down at him and put her arm around him.

“Hey, little bro! Spacing out again I see.”

Jason rolled his eyes but smiled fondly, “You're only one year older. Besides, I was just thinking of when I have to take over the company.”

Thalia’s easy smile disappeared, and she frowned, “I still can’t believe that dad is giving you no choice at all. I mean, you're wasting your life on something that will never make you happy.”

Jason sighed, every time that this topic was brought up Thalia made the same argument. He tugged at his tie, feeling uncomfortable all of a sudden.

“Just let it go, Thals.”

Thalia huffed but didn’t add any more fuel to the conversation. Then, she smiled widely. Jason almost tripped from the sudden change of attitude.

“I just remembered! I gotta go, little bro, Piper is having brunch at her place today,” she said while wiggling her eyebrows in a weird way.

Jason felt heat rush to his cheeks when his sister mentioned Piper Mclean. He could remember the first time he saw her.

It was in the hallway during their freshman year. He saw her stand up to Drew Tanaka when she was bullying some poor boy who looked at her wrong or something. When she yelled at Drew and embarrassed her in front of the whole hallway, Jason felt like he’d been shot.

If it wasn’t enough that Piper was a kind-hearted, brave person, she was also painfully beautiful. Even when she cut her hair, and wore baggy clothes, she was still extremely gorgeous. She also never noticed him.

It was safe to say that he had a very big crush on her.

“R-really?” he stammered, blushing, and wishing he never told Thalia about his crush in the first place because she found a reason to make fun of him for it all the time.

Thalia smirked and whipped out her phone and went to her messaging app, bringing up Piper’s contact.

Thalia wanted to introduce Jason to Piper to help him with his hopeless crush, but he’d voted against it. As painful as it was, he couldn’t be introduced as Thalia’s brother, because that would mean explaining their complicated family tree, including Percy (who Jason hasn’t heard from in years) and the fact that he would be a CEO of a famous company in a little over two years.

Jason brought his attention back to Thalia’s phone, where she was texting Piper. Their conversation was pretty casual.

(AN: Thalia, Piper)

Today - 11:34 AM

hey Pipes

hey Thals

wassup

nothing much, you?

i’m here with my brother at one of my dad’s interview things

Jason almost shrieked, but that wouldn’t be very manly of him. Instead, he shook Thalia’s shoulder forcefully.

“THALIA!” he winced as his voice squeaked.

“What?” Thalia frowned at him.

He stared at her, and sudden realization dawned on her as Piper’s reply came.

you have a brother?

“Oh shoot, oh shoot, oh shoot!” Thalia yelped, juggling her phone like it was on fire, “Oh my gods, what do I say? Should I say I was lying?”

“Yeah, because she’ll definitely believe it if you say ‘oh I was just kidding, sometimes I imagine I have a brother!’ She would think you’re crazy!” Jason deadpanned.

Thalia glared at him, and then she sighed resignedly, “Well, she knows now, and she’s one of my good friends, so I may as well just tell her the truth.”

Jason didn’t like that idea, but Thalia was already texting Piper again. He looked at the screen to see the conversation again.

yeah

EXCUSE ME, but how come you’ve never told me about him?

never came up

fine, you win, for now. show me a pic?

And in the next second, Thalia found a picture of Jason laughing at a joke that Hazel made, and sent it.

Jason made a mad grab for her phone, but it was too late. Oh no, he looked so dorky in that picture.

“Chill it bro, you look fine,” Thalia said, her eyes still on the screen.

Then, her face looked like she’d hit a gold mine, and she pushed the screen in front of Jason’s face.

oh, that cute boy you sit with at lunch sometimes? He’s really good looking.

Jason almost dropped the phone, and stood there rooted to the ground as Thalia cackled in the background.

Piper. Piper Mclean. Thought he, Jason Grace, was good looking?!?!? Jason felt like he might die.

Thalia wheezed as her laughing fits started subsiding, “Oh-oh my gods. Th-that was amazing!”

Then she typed a reply to Piper.

yes, he is, and he’s also here looking at our conversation.

Thalia erupted into another bout of laughter, and Jason waited for Piper to respond. But she didn’t.

He didn’t know how to feel about that.

Jason’s watch beeped, and he remembered that he was supposed to be heading to Hazel and Nico’s apartment to hang out. He waved goodbye to Thalia (who was still laughing like a lunatic) and made his way back to the apartments where his cousins lived.

Gods, he needed to clear his head before he went brain dead, and spending time with family, other than his dad, helped with that.

My, oh my, this was gonna be an eventful year. _____________________________________________________________

Hehe, there's some Jiper for ya. Poor Jason, being stifled like that... I can relate :(

-Blossom ;)

#percy jackon and the olympians #soulmates #percabeth #caleo #solangelo #jiper #frazel #heroes of olympus #pjo fanfic #pjo angst #jason grace #thalia grace #piper mclean

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waterlinkedgirl · 4 years ago

Note

I gotta admit I find Shiraishi to be a bit of engima I feel like I don’t really know much about him in general or gotten to grasp with his personality so I would love to get some sort of insight on him.

I’m glad you asked! :D I’m also HXFTGHCFGJTVJ sorry about the length! I hope you enjoy it!

I think most insight into his personality can be gained from the Nationals and from his 40.5 profile. He’s introduced as the one able to control Kintarou with a simple lie of having a poison arm, the man who stands casually at the center of the rowdy Shitenhouji.

Unexpectedly, he’s also the one who kicks off Shitenhouji’s lineup, the first to go up against Fuji. Here, he shuts down Fuji’s play, Fuji’s Disappearing Serve with tennis that is faithful through and through to the basics, all with his little catchphrase ‘Nnh~, ecstasy!’. The kanji for this read ‘climax’, but please take it as Shiraishi’s exclamation of feeling good, haha. But the reality is, that he finds nothing more boring than his playstyle. Yet, he carves out that win for his teammates. Shitenhouji’s motto, ‘the winner takes it all’, also means ‘the loser loses it all,’ after all. So, he resolves to get closer to perfection with every victory. Despite his desires, that is.

Shiraishi is said to be one rank above Fuji in spirit, physique and technique, having eliminated any wasteful habits from his play, and this is the result of years and years of just training and polishing the fundamentals. His plays and returns shut Fuji down so hard, that at match point Fuji finds himself on the floor, blind to everything but his own thoughts, unwilling to get up. (In my opinion, that’s dangerously to Yips). He tells Fuji when he does get up that he can’t win with only passion, which implies that he for himself too values Being Better, in his case by playing his Bible. Shiraishi allows himself only one special shot: the Entaku shot.

In a way, an important part of Shiraishi’s character is defined by him putting his duties first, despite his desires. He only allows himself some indulgences, but when he does indulge he does it . You see, he himself tells us there’s nothing more boring than perfect tennis, but he finds his satisfaction in pushing back the opponent. This is emphasized by him being disappointed by Fuji not being on Tezuka’s level. After all, with his duty to the team, he should be happy with an easy victory, right? But, he isn’t.

When Fuji gets up and chases shot after shot just to not lose, when he plays like crazy, Shiraishi finds himself thinking that if Fuji had played like this it would have been a much better match. Shiraishi craves the challenge, despite his necessity to win. Perhaps somewhere in his heart, despite his duty, he wouldn’t even have minded losing if it meant a tight match.

Despite the desperate situation Shiraishi finds himself in when his shots won’t go over the net anymore, Shiraishi remains frighteningly calm and works to nullify Fuji’s spin with his own. Whereas Fuji, through his inscrutability and untapped potential is the scariest one of Seigaku to fight (Shiraishi had a game plan for Tezuka, after all), for Shitenhouji, despite Chitose’s borderline hax abilities at that point, and despite Kintarou, it’s Shiraishi. Because of his calm perseverance, his methodology, and in the end his adaptability. Although it ends up being his victory, he finds himself frustrated by it.

Interestingly enough, this all ties together with Shiraishi’s eccentric interest as shown in the fanbooks: poisonous plants. He knows over 200 species of them, his knowledge is said to be university-level, and he even writes a column in Shitenhouji’s news paper with them as centerpoint. His favourite books are plant encyclopaedias, his favourite date spot are the botanical gardens. But, although he lightly suggests that his knowledge could help someone about to eat a poisonous plant (which has never happened), the true reason for his interest... “Because he loves the danger hidden within the beauty of poisonous plants, he can distinguish those from all over the world as an expert.” This fits very well with Shiraishi desiring to face adversity, or more relevantly put, danger.

Another little thing that’s interesting is his favourite food. His favourite music, trance, (which is different from all the other captains in that it’s surprisingly not classical music) is related back to his frighteningly calm side by the fanbook (“The tension during the match is exactly like being in a trance! Calm Shiraishi often has his favourite trance music flowing in his mind. The swirl of reckless and sensational sounds helps him build his focus and lends him power to overcome the adversity he faces.”). His hobbies are playing chess, relating back to his Bible tennis, and health exercises. His fondness for health exercises (including yoga after baths), aside from making Shiraishi a health nut, also relate back to his physical fitness. But his favourite food is cheese risotto, which the fanbook confirms as being... not quite nutritionally valuable. Since he values his health a lot and aims to be perfect, I think this is quite significant! Rather than wanting what’s good for him, his favourite food is something enjoys eating. It’s another one of the small indulgences that goes against what he things is right, but what he knows feels good.

I think my favourite detail about him is that his most wanted item is a full-body-length mirror. It seems like a random thing to want, but it means Shiraishi wants to look at his own shape, reflected in the mirror. The fanbook calls Shiraishi narcissistic for it, and that he watches himself to the point of getting intoxicated. Shiraishi does a great deal of self-reflection, but the interesting thing is that he looks at both the negatives and the positives. He talks about wanting to cut down on useless things, but simultaneously, he has a positive outlook on his own skills without getting arrogant like Atobe. I think this is reflected in his want for a mirror. As such he can reflect on how far he’s gotten and appreciate what he sees!

What’s also of note is that Shiraishi has both a teasing side and a slightly shy side. Unlike the others at Shitenhouji, Shiraishi isn’t actually good at comedy. (this makes him being able to get good grades and have no weak suits despite Shitenhouji’s focus on comedy all the more impressive) According to Koharu, he gets embarrassed. At the same time, he is bad with girls that go out to hit on men (this is actually caused by an incident involving him when he was a 1st years). And yet at the same time, in the pair puri fanbook, he’s mentioned that he likes teasing people, especially those that are hard to tease. Tezuka gets the brunt of this in their interview, to the points of Shiraishi bringing up Miyuki, and Tezuka calmly (‘calmly’) retreating.

To sum it up, Shiraishi takes up the role of reliable captain, playing a style of tennis he finds there’s nothing more boring than just to carve out the first win for his team. Out of his team, he is the one most focussed on solely winning, approaching perfection with every next victory. But, while that’s where his duty and responsibility lie, he enjoys thrill and the danger of being challenged. He’s hardworking, perfecting the basics through hard practice each day. But he finds pleasure in small indulgences, like his favourite food or his Entaku Shot. A lot of these indulgences, unlike his want are quite materialistic. He reflects on himself, seeing both the sides he could work on and the sides he’s doing well on. When he’s delighted about something, he isn’t afraid to show it. Even with his surprisingly non-arrogant confidence, he has things he gets shy about, but also likes to tease people. There’s many sides to him, even if he just looks only handsome and reliable on first sight, and it’s something I especially love about him!

#prince of tennis #shiraishi kuranosuke #long post #character meta #I love One Bible Boy

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multific · 5 years ago

Text

Soundtrack

Timothée Chalamet x Reader

Request: Hey! Could you do an imagine where y/n is a pianists/musician and she meets Timothée on set (or something like that). Few months later she wins an Oscar for CMBYN soundtrack and Tim is proud of her. He could be a boyfriend or just a friend (it’s up to you ). Thanks! Have a nice day!

Music was all you ever knew. All you ever cared for and loved.

Since the moment you were able to reach your grandma’s piano, all you did was sit there while she taught you.

Then your obsession became your passion and you were very talented in it. While others were playing around, going to high school, had boyfriends, you composed and practiced.

You won many prizes with your performance and then came the biggest opportunity, you got the job to compose, write songs and music for movies.

You started off with small projects and small or short songs. But then Call Me By Your Name came around. A movie about two men in love. You read the novel and absolutely loved it, you couldn’t wait to see the movie itself.

When all of your soundtracks and the main theme song was done, you met the cast.

Armie Hammer took you off of your legs in a matter of seconds with his sweetness, however, the one who caught your eye was Timothée. And something in you told you that he liked you just as much as you did.

However after that one time, you didn’t meet with him.

Months passed and you got new jobs. Then you got the news that the movie will be premiering and you were to attend the red carpet event.

It wasn’t unusual for you to be standing in front of hundreds of people, but this was slightly different. Because as soon as you arrived, you were bombed with interviewers asking questions.

Was this normal to ask the composer?

Thankfully during a rather uncomfortable interview, you felt a hand on your back and as you looked there he stood, head full of curls, smile just as wide as on the day you met and he looked extremely handsome in a suit.

“Let me help.” he whispered to you.

He must have noticed how uncomfortable you were with the cameras and people around you, and he came to your rescue. And thanks to him, you soon found yourself to be in a more secure place.

“Thank you.” you said smiling at him.

“You are not used to this, are you?”

“Oh, I had many competitions and I used to perform in front of people, but this was a bit much.”

“Understandable. I’m sorry if I’m rude, but I cannot remember seeing you during shootings, which was your character?” he asked, and you had to admit his thinking face was rather cute.

“Oh, no, you got it wrong. I’m not an actress, I wrote the soundtrack for the movie! We met once back in March I think.”

“I’m sorry. I remember now. You are quite something, the soundtrack came out amazing.” he smiled.

“Thank you. I will have to see about your acting though. I haven’t seen it yet.” at that the two of you laughed a bit, then he had to leave.

You were so disappointed that you couldn’t sit next to him. Timothée wasn’t only handsome and charming but something about him helped you keep your calm.

You loved the movie, however, it was a bit weird to hear the songs you heard thousands of times before, but they sure fit.

You were pleased with the end result and the movie as well. The story was still heart-warming for you and the acting, perfection.

Too bad you couldn’t tell Timothée that.

That’s what you thought, but fate and Timothée had other ideas.

***

You wanted to try yourself out in a competition. They were advertising their show where they were looking for young talented pianists who wrote their own songs on the tv the other week and you decided to sign up.

You weren’t really in it to win, it was more for that you needed to write more and move out a bit.

You had a month left and you were still struggling to finish your piano piece. Since you just got the news that Call Me By Your Name soundtrack got nominated for the Oscar’s and you could potentially win an Oscar for it, blew your mind, you were so shocked and happy, you couldn’t think straight for days.

That is how you found yourself in your studio, sitting by the piano, with a pen in one hand the other on your half-finished piece.

Nothing seemed to work. You decided to go with a piece about love and passion. You wanted to feel the same as you did when you did the movie’s soundtrack. You remember feeling all sorts of things purely based on the novel you read.

Even if you never really experienced love before. Then Timothée popped into your head.

And as if a lightbulb got lit above your head, you threw the papers away to grab new ones.

Your new strategy was simple, yet effective, a piano play about crushes.

That could work.

You were so into the song, you didn’t hear the knock on the door behind you. The door opened and a person came in, you failed to notice since you were distracted and you couldn’t hear because of the piano.

However when a hand was placed onto your shoulder, it made you jump and nearly fall off the chair.

“Sorry, sorry. I knocked but you didn’t seem to hear.”

That voice.

And surely enough, Timothée was standing right in front of you. With a hand still placed onto your chest in a weak attempt to calm yourself, you gave him a small smile.

“It’s okay, I was just…in thought.”

“It actually sounded rather nice. Sad but happy at the same time. What is it about?” he asked so casually like it wasn’t weird at all that he was just there out of nowhere. But you just went with it as he sat beside you.

“It’s for a contests I signed up for. The theme is… crushes. I just… something about it is both sad and happy, like you have these feelings for someone you barely know, and it's sad because you know you just can’t reach them and happy because it makes you all fuzzy and warm when you think about them.”

“WOW. You really are talented. To tell a story like that with piano…amazing. I can relate to that feeling.” you watched him as he just sat there, staring at the piano key and then he hit it with one finger.

Then you got an idea. You started to play the piano duet from Tim Buton’s Corpse Bride. He seemed to recognize it, but it was clear, he couldn’t play it. You heard that he practiced playing the piano and the guitar.

“I’m sure you’ll win.” he said after you ended the song.

“Thank you, it’s a small competition bu-“

“No, I meant the Oscar.” he said as you locked eyes with him. You blushed a little.

“I can’t possibly win that. Have you seen the others? They are experienced. I was just lucky even to get nominated. People might just be confusing a great story and amazing acting with the soundtrack.”

“You can’t possibly think that to be true. I think, that 1/3 of a movie is acting and the story and 2/3 is the music. Music makes people emotional, music is what makes us help feel things. Like in sad moments, if you put the right song over it, people are sure to cry or laugh or feel the tension. You did an incredible job. When I first saw the scenes with the music over them, it blew me away, I needed to know who did such an amazing job. You will win for sure.”

“Thank you, really. I feel a bit more confident now, I still have my doubts and when I go next week, I’m sure I’ll faint, but still, thank you.” he smiled at you, that signature happy smile of his.

“Then, we should go together. I’m invited anyway, and if we go together, it might help you calm down.”

“Good idea. I have to ask though. Are we going as…friends or?”

“No, you’ll be my date. If you want to, I don’t want to pressure you or anything.”

“I’d love to.”

***

You never actually went out to buy a dress like this one before but since you will be attending the biggest award show, with no other than Timothée, you needed to look good. You even called your best friend to come and help you out. And he delivered. He chose you a gorgeous dress, the color complimented your skin complexion, and the length was perfect for your height. Your back wasn’t covered by fabric, however, the dress did have a jewel-like back. You looked marvelous in the dress and you knew, Timothée will love it.

So, you stood in front of your mirror, looking at yourself for the hundredth time when the doorbell rang.

You opened the door, and it was exactly who you expected. With his curly hair, amazing eyes, and smile.

“You look beautiful.” he said as he handed you a bouquet of flowers.

“Thank you, and for the flowers too.” you went to place the delicate flowers into a vase while he came after you and looked around your home. He had to admit, it was exactly how he imagined it. It was almost like someone looked up musician aesthetics on Pinterest and made a home out of it. But he had to also admit that it looked rather nice and homey.

When you came back with the vase and placed it on your table, you found Timothée petting your cat. Weird, your cat never liked strangers or anyone besides you really.

“She likes you.” you said as he looked at you while the cat purred and rubbed its head against Timothée’s hand.

“She’s cute.”

After that the two of you left and you were very nervous.

You knew you wouldn’t win the Oscar, yet you were hopeful. And with Timothée by your side, you were able to calm down and walk the red carpet, even answered some questions about the two of you.

Timothée didn’t hide the fact that he saw you more than a friend, an interviewer asked if you were his date which he responded with, “I’m her date!” You didn’t mind it though, at least you knew what to expect from him.

You ended up winning.

Which shocked you so much, you froze when you heard your name being called, Timothée was the one to push you to stand and get your award.

After everything went down and you could finally go home, you could only think about the fact that you were an Oscar winning composer. You felt wonderful, joyful, and proud. And you will surely call every person you know the next day and show them your new treasure.

Little did you know that the gold statue not only awarded you with a new chapter of your life in composing and music, but with a new relationship too with a certain handsome actor none the less.

And what a wonderful boyfriend Timothée was. You told him from the beginning that you weren’t good with love, since you never really had time for it. He was more than understanding with you. He not only inspired and helped you, but he also took you wherever he went. He took you all around the world. When he took you to France for a weekend, just the two of you, he even spoke French, which didn’t really shock you, but you had to admit, it sounded sexy when he spoke a different language.

“You look absolutely stunning tonight.” you heard him whisper in your ear as the two of you stood on the balcony of the hotel room. It was late at night and of course, your room had a direct view at the Eiffel Tower.

“Thank you.” you said as you felt him squeeze you closer to him. Heat radiated off of him, and it made you feel cozy.

You knew that this was only the beginning of your love story with Timothée, but something in you told you that the two of you were meant to be. Your life felt more than full with him in it.

All thanks to a movie.

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#timothee chalamet x reader #timothée chalamet x reader #timothée chalamet imagines #timothée chalamet imagine #timothée chalamet headcanons #timothee chalamet #timothée chalamet headcanon #timothée chamalet #timothee chalamet imagine #timothee chalamet imagines #x reader #musician reader #fanfiction #fan fiction #fanfic #request #call me by your name #cmbyn fandom #cmbyn

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juleswolverton-hyde · 5 years ago

Text

Silver Egoism

Genre: Smut, Friends to Lovers, Idol AU

Pairing: Jimin x Reader ft. Jungkook

Warnings: Voyeurism, exhibitionism, dom!/top!Jimin, unprotected car sex (ALWAYS do it safely, lads and lasses), choking, heartbreak, swearing/cussing, creampie, multiple rounds, male masturbation, phone sex (to some degree), overstimulation, (semi-)public sex (does car sex count as that?)

Summary: Within a band as close as a family there is no room for egoism, but one night the envy can no longer be suppressed as a rabbit in love unintentionally tries to outdo a silver fox.

Because when it comes to Love, the rules are different.

And Jealousy will do anything to gain the winning hand.

Masterlist

Friendships can unconsciously deepen by means of little gestures going beyond the realm of mere kindness and gifts to show a person holds more meaning to the other than initially thought. However, even then, the meaning can get lost in translation when the receiver does not reciprocate the emotions which are endeavoured to be shown.

As is the case with the obsidian leather jacket and Chanel necklace gifted to the girl met way back in high school sitting in the chair opposite Jungkook, happily chatting as an unrequited heart sits next to one that recently confessed his feelings for the woman doing the presents justice during a night of drinking white wine together. And despite being like brothers, hating the warm smiles and timidly roseate cheeks whenever Y/N comes over cannot be helped. Still, there is no merit in destroying a close bond on the grounds of unrequited love and henceforth a tongue toxically green with envy remains silent as it pretends to watch cat videos while actually observing the love of a lifetime through the lens of the camera.

Eventually, as the hour grows later and the morning brings the preparation for an interview, the chatter between friends regarded by a hushed third party dies down with the realization of having to make an early start and that going to bed would be the sensible course of action.

‘Alright, I should go.’ Y/N stretches like a feline, a habit likely picked up by hanging out with Yoongi, who is not any competition whatsoever for he acts more like a nagging older brother than a potential rival. And that is fortunate because regardless of having known him longer than yesterday, the musical genius remains a somewhat intimidating individual one should not mess with. ‘I’ll be watching the interview as soon as it comes out. Good luck, lads.’

‘If you want, I can drive you home.’ Jungkook rises simultaneously with the beautiful companion, pulling focused irises away from the screen towards reality.

‘Thanks, but-’

‘I’ll drive her home.’ It comes out on a whim and more vicious than intended, redirecting all attention buzzing in the amicable living room still filled with the energy of the barbecue to celebrate the first good summer weather giving a clear navy and violet twilight sky adorned by sparkling stars. Unfortunately, the splendid circumstances had turned sour by the tropical monsoon that the wind whispered hints of while munching on shaved ice, pushing eight souls indoors. However, it also meant the gorgeous girl was, to much selfish relief, chased off the picnic bench just as Kook tried to sit her down on his lap in a supposedly casual fashion were it not for the clearly yet slowly hardening shape in tight denim jeans.

‘Jimin-ah, are you alright? Why are you upset?’ Taehyung’s brows furrow in sad confusion, always sensitive to the moods of anyone near the golden heart aware of the surroundings more than one might think. ‘Do you want to talk about it? I hate to see you angry.’

‘I’m fine, Tae Tae. Just tired.’ A gentle smile is fabricated with effort but has enough of an effect to make a sometimes too gullible mind believe it for the moment. Howbeit hesitantly so. ‘I’ll just take Y/N home and call it a night.’

‘Hyung, the last few performances have been hard on you so-’ The maknae speaks up again, undaunted by the sharp edge to unintended hostility, and proposes to kindly take on the role of the driver as intended.

But is repaid by the same too venomous irritated exhaustion. Withal, it is not physical tiredness but more so purely emotional. Sensitively sick, all emotions that have bottled up thanks to having to hide in order to save everything coming to a dangerous boiling point. ‘I said I’ll take her home, Kook.’

‘Chim, calm down. You’re clearly exhausted.’ The scent of tulips in spring has appeared between warring parties of which solely one is aware of the fight. The hand first covering a racing heart, the cause of the adrenaline easily mistakable for stress while it is truly the touch and her nearness, rising to swiftly comb through silver manes before coming to rest on the cheek. ‘I’ll be fine on my own and text once I’m home, alright?’

The sweet innocence of sparkling soothing eyes triggers perhaps the most idiotic and selfish decision ever, the storm of feelings no longer able to be contained. Not when being this close and every sense is overrun by the familiar scent of the never-changing perfume, the comforting touch whenever thinking all that is done or said or both will never be enough.

That I am not enough.

For her.

Notwithstanding, just tonight those lingering haunting doubts are put aside as lips unexpectedly crash into each other and a small palm grabs the behind that should have tried to sit on the lap it always does. There is no resistance nor pulling away, only the envelopment of the other cheek and a barely audible gasp dimmed by six-headed surprise filled by soft humoured baritone chuckles when not staring on in speechlessness.

And the broken heart of a long-time amazing now betrayed friend.

Alongside the cruel carelessness of not paying the pain any mind, focusing on making a lasting imprint on long-longed for lips that will ignite a hunger for more instead of on the world coming to a halt.

An existence that slowly starts to turn again as mouths part, a soft murmur all that remains between them and possessive fingers entwining. ‘I’ll take you home. Let’s go.’

‘Um, yeah.’ The attempt of creating a lasting impression is clearly successful, Y/N rendered wordless and needing a second to gain composure before being dragged out the front door with an absent wave of goodbye. ‘Good luck, lads. Figh-’

And plopped down in the passenger seat of the shadowy onyx BMW 8 Series Convertible, proudly brought after completing the driving test and gaining a driver’s license. Swiftly, the belt is fastened and fashionable boots make way to the other side of the vehicle to do the same.

Soon, the engine roars to life, tires screeching over the driveway wrapped in the dusk and speeding towards the illuminated heart of the city.

Towards the medium-sized luxury apartment given as a birthday present last year, simply due to being able to pay for it and wanting the beloved to live a good life.

It has to be said, however, that the current home is a compromise because the original penthouse did not get accepted nor the option to share a roof because the gorgeous woman “did not want to keep me away from the guys and give me space”.

Yet, what was failed to be noticed was that the empty gap carved into an unrequited heart is solely filled by her presence. The reason for that is simple: it is not about money nor fame nor stage persona.

It is about an old friend.

The dancer from Busan.

Chiminie.

‘Uhm, Jimin... about that kiss...’

‘I don’t regret it, especially not because it was in front of everyone.’ Palms tighten around the leather of the steering wheel, voice reduced to dangerous egotistical jealousy. Teeth grit at the memory of the barbecue, Kook trying to settle the wonderful girl at the window displaying a rapid blurry landscape on muscled thighs.

Deform into a snarl when remembering the hardened shape in pants she would have sat against, feeling it. ‘In front of Jungkook.’

‘Jungkook? What does he have to do with this?’ Brows furrow in confusion, sincerely not making the infuriating connection between statements and acts.

‘How can you not understand? After all the hints?’ With a loud noise as of nails scratching a blackboard a sharp turn towards the body of water flowing through the metropolitan is taken, stirring up gravel while descending to the river bank underneath the nearest metal monster of a bridge.

Here, at the waterside reflecting the life of night owls, the engine is turned off before shifting to face the uncomprehending beautiful mistake with perhaps too sharp a tone. ‘I am in love with you! Fucking head over heels.’

‘Why? Why me?’

‘Because with you, I’m normal. With you, I’m okay.’ Frustrated shoulders relax as the volume of speech lowers to a normal conversational level instead of being barely shy of shouting. ‘With you, I’m just Park Jimin, a regular Busan boy.’

‘You’ve never been anyone else to me. Not a celebrity nor a distant person suddenly too good to hang out with normal people.’ A stern severity dims the well-meaning light in honest eyes caressing the cheek once more, the tenderness fading into flickering worry. ‘However, the guy I saw in the living room is somebody I don’t know. Who is he?’

‘He is the guy who cannot deal with seeing his best friend try his luck with the girl he actually loves. He’s the short-tempered unpredictable envious me.’

The me without you.

A persona who rises again by grabbing the wrist to place a wanting kiss on the inside, to take in the scent of young spring clad in leather. At war with the genuine ego forced to simmer beneath the surface and fighting a battle consisting of equal strength. ‘A guy I would never want you to date unless it’s me. No, even if it was me, you shouldn’t. Never let toxic people into your life because it is so short already.’

For a second, Y/N merely looks at double-edged melancholic lips resting on tulip skin. Were it possible, being frozen in this exact moment would likely be the best outcome of the story since this is all there shall ever be if the risked friendship continues to exist.

This is all we have.

All I have.

All that will ever be.

Although, the curiously withholding of something unspoken while continuing to solace a lonesome boy with love forms a hint towards a detail which might alter the seemingly hopeless train of thought. ‘Life’s indeed short, incredibly so. But, Jimin, because it is thus, it also makes every minute with a beloved more precious.’

‘What are you saying?’ Nothing in the attitude leaning forward gives away a straight explanation of the hidden meaning behind the wisdom likely picked up thanks to hanging out with Namjoon hyung. Again, it is fortunate the rapper is merely seen as an older brother instead of being real competition.

‘We see each other very little, but each time we do I’m impossibly glad I have you back for a brief while. My best friend, my...’ The end of the sentence floats in the tense air, blushing cheeks refusing to speak the last part.

‘Your what?’

But eventually do.

‘My... crush.’

The two words spin around, warming up veins grown into arrogant ice and inflating pride to an indescribable extent. Gradually the meaning truly dawns, making both warring egos within mutually smile in relieved excited delight.

The grabbed wrist is lead to regions below where the effects of the frustration still boil painfully though were able to be ignored until now, distracted by the suppressed jealous rage resulting in an outburst. The bottom lip is caught between teeth, not resisting another action of the selfish persona clearly elated by the confession and who has taken over demeanour entirely. Rather, it is perversely fascinated despite playing coy, more so when Y/N’s palm spreads out over hot denim like a blooming flower. ‘Chim, erm, heh, wh- what are you doing?’

I could ask you the same, pretending to be innocent and yet not hiding the need for me.

‘Get in the back, princess.’ Spurred on by the intimate contact essentially ignited by oppressed apparently futile rage, huskiness naturally creeps into the vocal manner of a chest slowly starting to struggle for breath.

‘What?’ Keeping up the pretense or mayhaps sincerely confused by the rapid change in atmosphere, the gorgeous mistress manages to glance away from the point of fascination and take on the roll of the seeker of answers in dark irises regardless of knowing to find none.

‘Backseat. Now.’

Not until a somewhat clumsy way is made to the designated place after hearing the demanding growl and undoing the seatbelt, the hands of a best friend from a great harbour city coming to rest on hips at the end of an enchanting wake.

Until those same hands creep up underneath the oversized shirt despicably lent from someone else before the chance to run up the stairs to retrieve something from the personal collection of clothing, the jacket discarded beforehand. Jungkook had the advantage by being situated on the ground floor of the dorm and literally sprinted to his room once a step into the kitchen was set.

Rip it to reveal the classy Victoria Secret bra underneath.

Another gift.

The meaning of which has only become clear now.

Stone-hued locks tilt to the side in amusement, loving the revelation that compliments the simple Chanel necklace perfectly. ‘Well, would you look at that. Wearing something I got you beneath the shirt of another.’ However, some of the delight dies into the snarling grave of fury at the thought of a charming bunny who outdid a silver fox. ‘Jungkook’s.’

‘He simply offered it so I wouldn’t catch a cold.’ An undignified huff reputes the selfish demeanour though the split second a pout forms tells of a pleasure in driving a boy with love to madness.

Into a persona.

If that is how the game is going to be played, so be it. Anything to make Y/N happy, to create something of our own. Henceforth, husky lips hover over parted ones, teased and left wordless. ‘It sure looked like it, but we both know better. He wanted to see you wearing his shirt, would likely have slipped the scene to see you change into it.’

‘He isn’t like that.’

‘Fair enough, the latter doesn’t apply. Nevertheless, he wanted to confess to you tonight, make you his.’ A cruel smile unconsciously carves itself onto the mouth, thinking of the faltering young face in a disappointed vividly painted image. ‘What a surprise would it have been for him to discover my brand on you.’

‘You’re not so cruel as to actually mean that, are you?’ In spite of the contrasting message by palms slipping to the behind to bring heated bodies closer, big eyes shine with the plead for the current state of mind to not be truthful. Still, the squirming when beginning to move at a slow steady pace to fuel the heat below further while undoing the claps and tossing the bra aside hints at being entranced by the domination. Especially submissive to the tyranny when placing soft kisses from the chest up towards the ear.

To whisper nothing but twilight sincerity. ‘Yes, tonight I am. I meant every word I said in the little periods of time we got to spend together and always will. Life’s too difficult already to complicate it further with lies.’

And show you anyone but myself.

Staying faithful to the thought, skinny jeans are contrastingly calmly tugged off before removing the pair of blushing consenting irises. They know the actual message behind the cryptic wisdom, acknowledging they are not the sole ones to be influenced by the wise leader of BTS. ‘I don’t want to lie to you.’

‘You don’t have, ah, to. Never h- had to.’ Affectionately, warm palms envelop the cheeks while the steady rhythm makes remaining in control of any sense of civilization much harder. And if not that, the barely chaste kisses surely are the cause alongside the bared skin revealed from discarded boxers achingly gliding over wet cotton.

‘Can I ask you something?’ Enough self-control can be exerted to form an important question and register the significant meaning of the nod waiting for the inquiry. ‘Can I be selfish just a little while longer?’

‘Yes.’ The alluring warmth is revealed from beneath the underwear of which the hedonic scent sends the mind into a hazed frenzy and cuts patience short with its temptation. ‘Y- Yes, Jimin!’

Every inch adds to the scenic teary-eyed sight below on the backseat, nails digging into skin helping to colour the painting, guiding hips temporarily slowed down to adjust to the novel enrapturing heat. Exclusive to a harbour town boy with love, the guy beneath the flirty stage persona millions of voices encourage and fawn over.

But he solely does over one person.

The woman beautifully responding to every new strike as shades blend behind shut lashes and create fireworks with every meeting of mouths and stroke.

Something of our own.

This.

This perfect picture.

This is what we have.

Our ending.

And it wants to be shown to the one who almost shredded the canvas.

‘Wha- What are you d- doing? Jimin?’ Y/N looks sensually aghast laced with astonished disappointment at being left hanging somewhere along the way to euphoria despite the harmony of hues strengthened by muffled lewd sounds and physical guidance.

‘Just a minute, princess.’ A rapid mischievous kiss means to nullify the stun, which it does at the cost of creating a quizzical expression on a blushing face as the jeans thrown onto the ground are reached for. From the back pocket, fingers fish out the telephone and dial Jungkook’s number.

After going over thrice, the call is picked up. ‘Hyung? What’s up, why are you- oh.’

Oh, indeed, because neither of the two other parties fully realizes what is going on in the dazed mind under a sensational hypnosis of colourful touches until advances come freely again to resume a shared endeavour long longed for. Exploited at a more savage pace to compose compositions that could not exist with the former method, exacting bittersweet revenge on the steadily becoming breathless young rabbit hanging on the other side of the line.

Tethering.

Alone.

Whereas a Busan dancer and mistress are together on the verge of toppling over the edge.

The arrogant knowledge of this truth sounds through in the proudly jeering undertone of a clear voice leaving no room for mistake, wanting to create havoc to enjoy in schadenfreude. ‘Shit, Jungkook, she’s really tight. Takes cock so well. And her tits, so fucking nice and bouncy.’

And rejoice in the flushed cheeks of the woman the heart has been beating for since the first meeting during a student exchange in high school. Albeit with a degrading manner that expresses the frustration of not entirely coming first at the moment. ‘Do you like that, huh? Being such a slut that you’ve got a man masturbating to hearing me pound you hard and liking it? Spreading your legs just as soon as dick is offered to you?’

The response merely consists of desperate agreeing whines, the warm colours growing hotter as the unintelligible words tumble forth and also spur on the absent yet present boy in love turned sinful in audible fanciful solitude. ‘Fuck, hyung, keep talking like that to her. She sounds so pretty, so whiny.’

The original intent has been reached, egotistically claiming the girl who has been there since the rise of Bangtan while simultaneously feeling the backlash of the sting the chosen punishment for both men in need of chastisement. One for greed and one for attempting to prevent this canvas. ‘Shut up, she’s mine. This is all you’ll get of her, all you’ll hear of her. Just tonight. And I want you to know it’s me between her thighs, not you.’

However, the sneered rebuke is not cared about as the maknae is too lost to actually care, too enraptured by the painting that cannot be seen and close to catch up with the final strokes leading to elevated completion. Notwithstanding, as the sole consciousness same enough to be somewhat of a source of order in the corrupt chaos, the final ultimate state of bliss does not want to be reached before a warning is made very clear.

To hear the mutual claim on me from the panting wonderful enchantress lying on the ruined shirt of an equally as destroyed rival. Hence is why a palm wraps around the heated throat to close off any means of air, the last extreme move to exert dominance. ‘C’mon, tell him how much better I am. That you want me, not him. Say it.’

‘K- Kookie, he- he’s so good.’ The following dominantly rough stroke coaxes out a wonderful complacent high-pitched stream claiming the canvas and the initial painter despite the narrow access to air. ‘Better than you. Fuck! So, so much better. I want him, o- only him.’

After a few repeatings of the same scenario, irritating due to a third wheel yet marvellous thanks to the stunning union, both the defeated golden maknae and Y/N lose a grip on reality.

However, since it happens simultaneously, the younger boy might use it to his advantage in daring yet intolerable later advances or to fancy a colourful storm together with her when not being there. Regardless of what the ulterior goal of the split second of breaking into blissful fragments might turn out to be, it forces the actually still selfishly desperate hand of a boy with love. ‘And yet you cream all over me just as Jungkook cums. Looks like my princess doesn’t know how to show respect and loyalty.’

But anything can be taught if using the appropriate manner, thus hardening the strokes until screaming alabaster flows freely and ever onward without stopping.

Action.

Reaction.

Result.

‘My name, Y/N. Scream my name.’ The slightly slackened hold on the throat forcefully strengthens again, mirroring the reinvigorated power pinning an otherwise wild waist down. ‘Scream my fucking name. Over. And. Over.’

Every word of the last command is accentuated by a sharp advance establishing the desired effect, tuning out almost completely the agonized though satisfied moans of bunny nerves being driven into overdrive. Notwithstanding, instead of allowing them to invoke another euphoria shared with the woman belonging to another, the call is ended just to childishly leave Jungkook hanging dry. ‘Keep calling, babe. He won’t get to hear you again.’

One final stroke triggers the primal second floating in ignorant bliss together with the claimed fleeting soul basking in the dusk enlightened by night owls.

A moment of us.

Slowly and carefully, arms shivering with the blast of shades which are slowly erased lower and meet a warm welcoming pair lovingly enveloping dishevelled grey locks. The soft cheek against which a palm having calmed down in demeanour, no longer suffocating, comes to rest leans into the touch, breathless but sighing in gladness.

‘Did... did you like it? I’m sorry I involved Kook into this, but I couldn’t think clearly. I didn’t want him to confess because I was afraid I’d lose you and that, well, resulted in the self-centred man you’ve been seeing this entire night.’ The confession bordering on a futile waterfall going around in circles manages to be stopped at a good point, preventing speech from crossing the line and falling into a spiral. Instead, the dewy hot throat scented by spring tulips is nuzzled while enjoying the perfume.

‘Had it been anyone else, I don’t think I would’ve enjoyed it as much as I did. So, yes, I really liked it. Really, really liked it.’ A short moment filled with happy giggles lifts a grand part of the heaviness of heart caused by egoism, delighted to no extent upon hearing the sincere amused yet meaningful tone in Y/N’s voice. ‘And before you ask, no matter who the persona is you happen to be in the moment, I still like you.’

‘Even when I’m an arrogant selfish bastard ruining the hopes of his best friend?’

‘Don’t think of it that way, Chim. It’s the choice I made and I have chosen what is right for me. For what I have wanted for the longest time.’

‘I have as well. Wanted this, that is. Even when the company told me I couldn’t.’ A shake of the head dismisses the melancholic thought of the manager’s voice sternly renouncing dating as breathing becomes a tad shallow with grief. ‘This is what’s been hurting me, not being with you. The person who makes me love myself.’

‘Is it selfish then?’

‘No?’ Despite the underlying suggestion, the response is doubtful because the ego overrun by the sensual drive to claim wanted the same but exerted its will in an egotistical manner at the cost of another.

‘No. No, it isn’t. We finally have what we have wanted all along. I don’t want Jungkook and you don’t want somebody else. We’re happy and happiness is never selfish.’ The kiss on the forehead is soothing, assuring of the determined righteousness of the statement and solacing in the request that follows in its wake. ‘Stay over tonight. It’s been too long.’

‘Indeed, too long.’

Too long for true self-love to return.

To have kept it waiting at the door of the familiar apartment.

In empty arms finally embracing the one they should.

Just like the stars in the navy sky transforming into dusky black.

Waiting.

For us.

#BTS #BTS smut #BTS x Reader #ksmutclub #btswriterscollective #Jimin #Park Jimin #Chim #Chim Chim #Jiminie

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nautiscarader · 5 years ago

Text

Anon asked

"Hey Wendy are you ready?" Dipper called out as he walked into the house from the back yard where he had been working and made his way towards their bedroom, "we should be heading out to meet Tamb..." He stopped short as he saw that not only was his wife waiting on him in their bedroom, but so was the friend that they were to be visiting...

(Ao3)

- Hey Wendy are you ready? - Dipper called out as he walked into the house from the back yard where he had been working and made his way towards their bedroom - We should be heading out to meet Tamb...

He stopped in place as he saw that not only was his wife waiting for him in their bedroom, but so was the friend that they were to be visiting... They stopped talking and started giggling when they saw the stunned expression on Dipper's face, as he lay his eyes upon his wife and her best friend sitting on their bed. It took him a while to recover from his confusion caused by the unexpected visitor, and with a would-be-casual voice he stepped inside, welcoming their friend.

- Hey there, Tambs, lo-long time no seee... - he stuttered when he nearly tripped on the perfectly straight carpet. - Nice to see you too, dude.

She eyed him and his physique. He was still very much a stick figure she remembered, though with just a few dollops of clay put here on there that definitely made Dipper pines look more like a man.

- I see that the life of researcher isn't all about sitting with nose in books, eh? - As if you didn't know that. - Wendy added, leaning on the pillow - We really missed our favourite camerawoman. - Hey, I missed you too. - Tambry smiled - But you know, I wanted...

She shied away, unable to meet Wendy's, nor Dipper's eyes.

- ...something different for a while.

She didn't have to elaborate for the two to understand her. A pregnant pause has fallen, until Dipper stuttered once more, just to break the awkward silence.

- Shall-Shall I get the cider, then? - Heck yeah, dude! - Wendy applauded. - Oh, guy, you didn't have to. - Tambry cooed. - Of course we had to, that's what anniversaries are for. And we've got plenty to drink to: new job, new flat, new life...

Wendy's words were the last Dipper heard before he rushed down the stairs to their cellar. And though his wife's voice was clearly audible, his beating heart almost made his ears ring, and only when he reached the slightly cooler basement, he took a moment to ponder what was going on. It's been seven years since one very faithful night during which he and Wendy shared it with her best friend, discovering more about themselves they ever expected. And that one night lead to several more over the next months, as their journeys continued, and the two slowly became three.

And then, they... stopped.

Dipper took a moment to browse the rack of bottles, walking past the same crate he was looking for several times, until his mind cleared enough to remember what he was looking for. He has been reliving the times he spent in their love triangle for the past days, since Tambry contacted them she came back to Gravity Falls, but he didn't expect to see her in their home, let alone on their bed, and that has sped up everything.

With a bottle in his hand, and three glasses in the other, he ran upstairs, hearing Wendy and Tambry's loud laughter, which made him oddly calm.

- ...and then, they've asked me: where did you learn to keep the camera so stable? - Tambry continued - And what was I supposed to say? That I once filmed a rampaging Yeeti? - How much have you told them? - Wendy asked, relaxing on her side of the bed. - Well, I didn't blow your secrets, if that's what you ask for - Tambry replied, taking the glass from Dipper - I couldn't exactly put "part time monster hunter" on my college application.

She took a hearty sip, feeling the familiar sweetness, followed by equally familiar warmth in her throat.

- Except here, it kinda counts as a job experience, so win-win. - So from now are we gonna hear you reporting about "local man who brawled bearacudas and won"? - Dipper asked, assuming equally relaxed position in the bed's end - Nah, I'm just gonna be behind the camera. They won't let us in front of it, and I'm okay with it. - Whatever makes you happy.

The three glasses clinked as they drank the toast, just as Wendy reached and turned on the music from her phone, she put in the docking station.

- Well, I know one thing that would make me happier...

Tambry spoke, and shifted her eyes from Wendy to Dipper. The two shared the same looks, and before they knew, the liquid courage rushing in their veins made them drop the pretence. They could have talked about Tambry's college life, and her new job, but it wasn't a coincidence she visited them, and that she headed straight for the bedroom.

Wendy was the first to taste the cider on Tambry's lips, and when the red-head broke the kiss, she let out a hearty moan, especially when Tambry's hand began fiddling with her jeans.

- Damn, I missed this. - Tambry spoke. - Anything else you've missed?

Wendy added, watching as Dipper sneaks his kisses around her neck, before his lips met with hers, and is hands cup her breasts. Just like last time they've made love, Tambry was sandwiched between the two, and the purple=haired woman could experience the lust of four hands and two mouths caressing her, making up for the lost years...

Her somewhat classy dress was tossed to the ground first, just like Dipper's vest Wendy has unbuttoned with her hands while her mouth was busy kissing Tambry's half-naked chest. And with Dipper's help on her bra, it soon became properly naked, revealing her breasts to Wendy, giving Tambry chance to see her eyes widening at the sight.

As the three exchanged kisses, Tambry felt Dipper's length pressed against her buttocks after a bit of fumbling that must have meant he also got rid of his clothes. And when she opened her eyes, she was met with familiar two naked bodies of her two friends, eager to celebrate her coming back.

She turned back to Wendy, but the red-head has already taken her and Dipper's unspoken plan into motion. Tambry let out a yelp when Dipper grabbed her thighs and spread her legs, giving access for his wife to take the first lick, savouring the well-known taste that filled her nostrils and mouth. Tambry's legs quivered when Wendy;s tongue dance around her sensitive nub, and let out a proper howl when she spread her lips, just to pave the way for her husband's cock whose hewad slowly filled her with.

Tambry desperately turned her head back, finding Dipper's lips ready to contain her moans. In his arms and laps, and with Wendy tending to her clit, the three were ready to start, and just like a machine waking up to life, their moves were initially slow. Dipper pushed his cock to familiarise himself with the territory he hasn't visited in a long time, while Wendy deliberately player a long game, knowing that Tambry will need both Dipper's raw power as well as a woman's touch to bring her to a proper orgasm.

With each minute, and each time Tambry was pushed up and down, tied to the rhythm of the song, thee three were speeding up, and soon they looked like a well-oiled machine, especially when Wendy's applied a bit of lubricant to her hand and sneaked it between Dipper's and Tambry's sexes, once more causing her childhood friend to yelp under the contact with the gooey substance.

But that only made Dipper's job easier; the combined work of his and Tambry's hips meant the she was now bouncing up and down onto his cock, letting him reach the deepest part of her womanhood, while Wendy's fingers mashed her clit. Tambry wasn't idle, though; she brought Wendy into Dipper's and hers laps, and her fingers repaid her for her work, filling the room with her moans as well.

Dipper's hands roamed between Tambry's chest and Wendy's backside, hoping both of his girls would get enough attention. With Tambry's pussy embracing him tightly, and his wife kissing her time after time, Dipper Pines had to find extra force not to end their night too soon.

But fortunately for him, Tambry fighting on two fronts brought her to her peak faster than she expected. With her legs flailing to the sides, and her arms tightly locked behind Wendy's neck, the camerawoman was letting only sharp, mangled bits of their names, and as Wendy and Dipper's eyes met, they both remembered the same cacophony of sounds from when all of their nights looked like this one.

And with that understanding, came their orgasms. Dipper lost himself inside Tambry, pushing her against Wendy with one, final thrust that filled her with jets of his thick cum. Wendy and Tambry's hands soon became wet from their shared juices, now mixing with Dipper's, slowly leaking from her used pussy, when he retracted for a while, just so he can hilt himself inside her once more.

The three lovers twitched in unison, exchanging kisses and praises towards each other, until they erratic breathing returned to normal, giving them chance to breathe. Tambry slowly raised up, looking in turn at Wendy underneath her and Dipper behind her, his cock still in her creampied pussy.

- I needed that... - she wheezed, before reaching for Dipper's head to kiss him. - If you need us, you know now where to find us. - Wendy replied with equally tired, but content voice. - We will be glad if we could help you. - Wait, I forgot! As a matter of fact, you can help me.

Though her legs were wobbly, Tambry waddled across the bed from between their lovers' lock. She grabbed the tissues and pressed them against her leaking pussy, just so she can get to her bag.

- We want to make a piece on the local paranormal author and the titled park ranger of his wife... - she began, fiddling with the tripod - And I offered I can try to find a suitable place to film an interview.

She placed her camera on the sturdy metal piece, returning to her lovers.

- So, want to test my setup?

#wendipbry #wendibry #lemon #not safe for waddles #nautiscaraderfics

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maximows · 6 years ago

Text

Against the Odds - Chapter IX

Nobu,

MASTERLIST (mobile) AO3

Warnings: smutty SMUT, fluff, so much love, chaos, smoking, drinking (but not in a negative way) and swearing

“You ready?” Chris asked, opening the car door. As always, he wanted to open mine to maintain his Prince Charming reputation.

“Yeah, let’s let the world know.” I said as he left and walked around the car to let me out.

We had managed to keep out engagement quiet for months and decided to officially announce it during tonight’s Oscars. I had been nominated again and since we had decided to attend major events together, we thought it was a perfect occasion.

We were a month away from sending out invitations and we took the Oscars as an opportunity to go through our friends and colleagues again and decide who to invite. Although we did have a list and most of the invitations had already been filled out, be had some spare ones for people we might have forgotten about.

“I love this dress, by the way.” Chris said as he offered me his arm. “In a different way than last year, but still does things to me.”

I was wearing a strapless, golden Elie Saab dress with a long cut along my leg. Even though it was floor length, it wasn’t heavy at all. It had some golden pieces attached to it at the top through my waist to my thighs which disappeared around there to reveal a light pink tulle material which was semi-transparent.

“Wait till you see my wedding dress...” I gave him a wink. “I’ve finally chosen the cut.”

Chris smirked. “Don’t worry, I haven't been able to stop thinking about you in a wedding dress since last year.”

We walked up to our spot and Chris put his hand on the small of my back. I know he hated the cameras flashing in front of him and I loved him even more, because he only came here today to support me. I was trying to cut the photo call short, but they wouldn't let us. All I could do is serve them looks and glance at Chris sometimes. The word I would us to describe him was “gorgeous”. His beautifully styled hair and beard, which by the way, he doesn’t have to do anything to maintain... He looked back at me with his light blue eyes and smiled. And I smiled back. “Whatcha lookin’ at, doll?” he whispered.

“My fiancé.” I said, right before we were asked to move. We separated to do solo shots.

Be did actually cut those short, because we had arrived late, so the production team rushed us to move to the theatre. We sat in the front row. “Is this the right time to tell you that I’ve had a crush on Leonardo DiCaprio since I saw him in Romeo and Juliet?” I asked, after Leo came up to me to congratulate on the nomination. “And that he asked me out on numerous occasions?” We had met a few times during some occasions and he did hit on me hard, but the real Leo was a different person to the actor I fell in love with years ago. Also, I was nineteen when he first did and he's 16 years older. And he vapes.

“It’s the worst possible time and I hope he saw the huge diamond on your finger.” Chris mumbled and glared at Leo who sat down with his mom. “Because there aren’t many men I feel threatened by.”

“Is this why you got such a big one?” I raised my eyebrow, toying with the ring. “You jealous idiot.”

Chris smirked. “How dare you call your future husband an idiot?” he faked outrage.

I leaned in to give him a kiss on the cheek. “I love my jealous idiot aka my future husband.”

The show soon started and we watched it in silence, making comments sometimes. Chris loved the musical format at the beginning, mainly because there was a short clip from The Avengers and he was included.

We kept making casual small talk, mostly on ideas for the wedding.

“Do you want to film it? Like, hire someone to do a video?” Chris asked when another break was coming to an end.

“Sure, but I want it to be someone who doesn’t normally do wedding videos. I want it to be more original.” I said, looking around the theatre. “I’m hungry. They had snacks last year. I want snacks.”

Chris reached into his pocket and pulled out on the these small Oreo packs. “Hannah mentioned that you might get snacky, so I came prepared.”

“Perfect human being.” I sighed, looking him in the eyes.

For the rest of the show, I was holding on to Chris' hand. My movie didn't win any awards, before my category came up. I was very displeased, because I was really sure of the “Original score” award. It was putting more pressure on me and I could feel it. I had to readjust myself in the seat a lot, because my back was tense.

Chris noticed me squirming in my seat and started to rub his thumb against my hand. “Calm down, baby,” he whispered as the presenters came out. “You’re going to win and you’re going to do great.”

“I’m not, Chris.”

“You are. And I’m right here, I’ll help you up the stairs if you need that. I’m here with you.”

I saw the footage from my movie, Sweetest Heavens, appear on the screen and waited for the camera to focus on my face. I smiled and thanked God that my hand clutching Chris' was out of the shot.

“And the Oscar goes to...” Eddie Redmayne said as he opened the envelope and slid out the card. “... Emilia Dawson, Sweetest Heavens.”

I went blank for a moment, but realised what had just happened when I saw Chris stand up and clap for me. I still couldn’t believe it was happening, but figured that he stood up for me, so it wasn’t only my imagination. I got off my seat and gave my fiancé a quick kiss on the cheek before heading up the stairs. “I knew it.” He whispered as I pulled back. I just grinned widely, mouthing “I love you" as I headed up the stairs.

“Congratulations,” Eddie said, handing me the surprisingly heavy award. “it is very well deserved, Emilia.”

“Thank you so much.” I had to hold back tears already.

I walked up to the microphone, clutching the statue firmly. People were still clapping (Chris was one of the few who were standing up, dork), so I was guessing that the route from my seat to the microphone took less than 10 minutes (but it felt like forever).

“This is surreal... First of all, I’d like to thank the Academy, because you make these,” I held up the Oscar for a second. “Uh, this will be the only rehearsed part of my speech, because the win was so unexpected. I’d like to thank everyone who was involved in the production of this beautiful movie, especially Taylor, Stuart, Marie, Alexa, Helen, Jerry, Steven, Elle, Lisa, Pilar, Sara, Hector and Michael. It was an incredible journey making this masterpiece with you and I hope we find a way to work together again soon.” I said, looking at the crew in the crowd. “Also, Hannah, my agent, who has been a third parent to me for the last few years and has never failed me. Now, I’d like to thank my real parents for supporting me even when they had all the rights to think that acting was “just a phase” for me, for giving me the benefit of the doubt when I moved out at a very young age and for still putting up with me and being the best parents a girl could have. Also, thank you for staying up so late in the UK to watch this, even though you have work tomorrow.” I waved at the camera, knowing they were watching. “And last but not least, I’d like to thank my fiancé... Chris, they won’t give me enough air time to fully express how grateful I am to have you in my life and to be a part of yours. Thank you for everything.” I said, looking down at him. We were both holding back tears. Chris bit his lip as he grinned at me, when I took my last look at him, before going backstage.

Someone from the production team said that they would keep the award for me until the end of the ceremony. I gave it to them and grabbed a tissue from a box on the table. I walked up to the make up lady and asked if she could check out my face and give me a little bit more powder, because I was all shiny already.

“Hi there.” I heard Chris behind me and I immediately shot out of the chair to wrap myself around him. “Congratulations, Dawson.” He mumbled into my shoulder.

“Chris, I can't believe it!” I almost shouted. “How the hell...”

“I fucking told you!” he cheered. “I’m so proud of you, baby.”

Someone told me to go to the press room for the break in order to give some interviews. Chris waited just a few feet away from me and watched me answer questions. I was still a bit overwhelmed, by this whole situation, but tried to keep a clear head.

After the ceremony, a few tabloids asked me for interviews and they were straight up asking about Chris, who was already waiting in the car for me, completely ignoring the fact that I had just won the most important award in this industry.

“So when did this happen?”

“A few months ago actually.” I answered, fiddling with the ring on my finger.

“Are there any plans for the wedding yet?”

“Oh, we don’t know yet,” I straight up lied. “We’re just enjoying the engaged life for now, we're both a bit too busy to plan a wedding right now.”

I was very proud of myself for lying about the wedding. I do know that paps tend to follow me more around my birthday or other important dates they can figure out, but I never thought they could just stalk me the moment my wedding appeared in the picture. Chris is a very private person, while I’m more casual about it, but neither of us want any leaks around a special day like that.

Chris escaped the car as he saw me walk towards him. He took off his jacket and, God, Chris in a white shirt and bowtie did things to me. He opened the door for me as I said. “If anyone asks about our wedding plans, tell them we don’t have any yet.”

“Sure, they don’t need to know.”

“And they'd be really surprised to know that we had already planned most of it.”

“That’s an overstatement.” He joked.

We arrived at the Vanity Fair After party just as I changed into my another outfit in the car. Chris had a vital role in the process, because my dress was very hard to take off. “I gotta be honest, I’d rather take that dress off you under different circumstances.”

I was now wearing a black jumpsuit with a lace top. It was much more comfortable than dancing in a dress. I left the dress in the car, which was supposed to go to the Elie Saab boutique now. “I didn't bring any other shoes,” I said as Chris took my hand. “I might require a foot rub later.”

“Anything for my winner.” He smiled.

We went through the photo call again, saying hi to a few people on the way. Chris clearly forgot that there’s also photographers behind us, because his hand kept creeping down my spine to grab my butt. I didn’t complain. We’ve been silent about each other for the last two years, so we might as well put on a show tonight.

Jeremy walked up to us and we talked a little bit about the movie we're starting in a few weeks.

“Are you going to bring Ava with you? I'm coming with Emily, I can be your babysitter.” Chris suggested.

“Evans, there’s no way I’m leaving my only child with you,” Renner laughed. “You’re the fun uncle who does the most dangerous stuff with the kids.”

“Oh, come on. Emily, back me up on this.” Chris turned to me.

I just shrugged. “You did hang you nephew from the tree by his leg.”

“He asked me to!”

Later this month Chris, Dodger and I moved to Utah to film Wind River. Dodger loved the constant presence of snow. He would dive in or lay on his back and just play and it was the cutest thing on this planet. We actually got him a few sweaters which made him look adorable and he became the star of my Instagram account.

I had to do some training for the movie, including gun training. Chris and I found a gym nearby and went there together to work out. I mostly did cardio, while he did heavy lifting. I was a bit curious why, since he didn't have a Marvel movie this year, but I never really asked. I watched him lift weights while I ran on the treadmill. God, that was some view. He was laying on the bench, his biceps bulging every time he lifted. Wait, why is my mouth watering?

I looked around the gym. It was pretty late and Utah, so it was empty. I switched off the treadmill and walked up to him, holding my towel against the back of my neck. “Chris, let’s go.” I ordered.

“But I’m not done.”

“Chris,” I winked at him. “Come on.”

He finally realised what I was talking about and stood up. We were really enjoying our lives after engagement.

We spent 6 weeks in Utah. Chris left for a few days to film a video game commercial. Apparently, Chinese companies are not only willing to pay Hollywood actors a lot of money for a 2 minute commercial, but they also move production to the US, so their star don’t have to go to China.

Two days after he left, he sent me a text saying:

I have a photo for you, which I know you will love, but I kind of want to be there to see your reaction. What should I do?

What’s in that photo?

Me, in my clothes for the shoot. Actually, there’s a few photos.

I feel like this is either going to be very hot or very weird. I’m guessing you’d like to be there if it’s hot and could get me bothered.

So, do you want it?

He sent me a few photos in a row, all of him wearing military gear and uniforms. I honestly could feel my blood boil after I looked through them. He was wearing the vests, boots and they put some dirt on his face, but also his hair was perfectly styled apart from that one loose strand on his forehead.

How soon can you come back, my intended? And will they give you these clothes?

During the Civil War press tour we actually got paired for a few interviews together. The studio never consulted this with us, probably hoping that us appearing together would give the movie more publicity (like it didn’t have enough of it already). One of the appearances was Graham Norton after the London premiere. The photos from the event were already out and I couldn’t stop laughing at Chris for looking at my cleavage like he was still breastfeeding.

“We haven’t had sex in like 2 days and you looked so good in that dress, please don’t blame me.” He whispered as we were in the car on our way to the BBC studios.

“There’s people who have sex once a month and you’re complain about a 2-day break, Chris.” I laughed.

“Yeah, but these other people aren’t engaged to you, so…”

“Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome Emilia Dawson,” Graham said as it was my cue to come out. I walked up to him and gave him a kiss on the cheek. He then announced Jeremy and Chris. “So, Chris Evans, this is your first time on the show. How did this happen?”

“I have no idea, they never let me do the UK shows for some reason. I guess I’m just not the best ambassador for the US.” He shrugged.

“Well, that ship has sailed.” Jeremy joked.

“Jeremy has been here a few times, but Emilia has been here over 5 times now. The first time you came here was in 2010, when you were 18.” Graham said. “This is a photo from the first time you visited.” He showed a photo of me. It just screamed 2010. I was promoting one of the first American movies I did.

“Yeah, there it is. I think I still have that skirt.” I smiled, analysing the photo. “That was actually the first time my mum thought that I made it. Because I was invited to one of her favourite shows.”

“Well, your mum has a great taste.” Graham smiled sweetly. “Anyway, this is Chris’ fifth Marvel movie, Jeremy’s third and Emilia’s second, right?” We all nodded. “How does it feel to step off the Marvel set and move on to another, smaller movie?”

“Well, Emily and I have just finished a movie in Utah, which was then completely covered in snow, and I still don’t know if I prefer Atlanta in June or Utah in March.” Jeremy said. “But to be fair, those are the sets where you really feel your surroundings, you know what’s going on, that’s the beauty of indie films. With movies like Civil War, you often don’t know what’s going on around you, because we use a lot of CGI or it’s just a secret, so…”

“Jer, we’re here to PROMOTE Civil War.” I laughed, before he went too far with his rant.

“Oh, right,” he pretended to remember. “I mean, being on the set with these guys is really fun, we spend a few months together, thankfully everyone gets along, so it’s pure joy.”

“Clearly, some of you are closer than the others.” Graham whispered, covering his mouth with his card.

I rested my hand on Jeremy’s shoulder. “Yeah, Jerry and I are really close.” I said, knowing he meant me and Chris.

Chris cleared his throat. “I thought it was suspicious when you said you were just practising sex scenes with him.” Everyone started to laugh. I was really glad we could talk about us while not really focusing on our relationship that much.

“Emilia, I’m sorry he didn’t start with this, congratulations on the Oscar!” Graham cheered and was followed by the audience. “So how has life changed for you?”

“Umm, it hasn’t really... I actually moved for work soon after the Oscars and haven’t been home for the last two months, so I didn’t really get to enjoy it properly.” I explained.

“And where have you decided to keep it? Because Kate Winslet keeps hers in the bathroom, so is yours on display?”

“I haven’t seen it in quite a long time to be honest and I’m not even sure where it is...” I laughed nervously. “Do you think they can make a replica if you lose one?”

“I put it on the fireplace when we came back.” Chris said.

“Riiight, yes! Yeah, he’s right. It was there when I left.” I nodded.

“Oh, seems like we’re getting an inside look into the Devans household.” Graham joked, making both me and Chris narrow our brows at the ‘Devans’ thing. “In case any of you have been living in a cave for the last few months and don’t know that, Chris and Emilia are an engaged couple, congrats.” He turned to the audience who started to cheer for us.

“Devans? Really?” Jeremy questioned.

“Yeah, I’ve never heard it either.” I shrugged. “I don’t know if I like it.”

“It should just be ‘Dodger’s parents’ or ‘Dodger’s roommates’.” Chris said. “Devans sounds like a name some woman gave her child, because she felt Devon was too mainstream.”

I really enjoyed being on a talk show with Chris. After that conversation Graham didn't really mention our relationship. I think he had only done it earlier to use his opportunity as the first host to ever have us both on the show.

Right after the Civil War press tour ended, we came back to reality, which for us meant a lot of wedding planning. We really wanted just a ceremony for our families and friends. Turned out we had much more friends and family than we expected. The initial goal was nothing more than 30, but it was the number of family members we had to invite. In the end, we managed to close the list at 50.

Planning was a nightmare, especially until the end of May when we were both away and couldn’t get anything done. Up to a point, we were trying to organise everything by ourselves, but by January, we had hired a wedding planner. We just told her everything we were expecting and she would send us emails asking for confirmation. The moment we hired her, we decided to go in all the way and thought we could get married somewhere abroad. Chris wanted Italy, but I won with Norway, mainly because there were no free venues in Italy. But also, because I threatened Chris with a blowjob embargo, if we were to get married there.

Because we were trying to keep the wedding under wraps, we tried not to be seen in some places, so we wouldn’t raise suspicions. The cake samples, for example, were brought to our house, along with flowers. Claire, the wedding planner, also brought our guest list and asked us to make a draft of the seating arrangements.

“I like this one,” I said, chewing on the white chocolate covered raspberry cake. “but I think it might be too sweet for some people.”

“I love it and we should take it.” Chris said. I glared at him, narrowing my eyebrows. “What? It’s our wedding! The cake should suit us, not anyone else.” He continued with a full mouth.

“Would it be possible to make it vegan?” I asked the baker. “I never asked, but I’m guessing that a lot of our guests are vegan. We definitely should have asked.”

“Oh, come on. We'll just put ’Might contain gluten’ signs everywhere.” He shrugged.

“It will taste differently, but I can make it vegan.” The baker said, writing something in his notebook. ‘I’ll try to have it done in about three days.”

“Ok, thank you,” I said. “Claire, can we have the catering company prepare vegan and vegetarian options?”

“Yes, I’ll call them right away.” she nodded and left the kitchen to make a call.

“Chris, not everyone is like you,” I raised my eyebrow. “Now everyone will switch back to eating meat, after being vegetarian for a while, because they feel like they’re turning green.”

“Oh, that was low.” He mumbled.

They all left soon, after making final decisions. We chose flowers and napkins for the tables. Chris said that the napkins looked dangerously similar and he didn’t see a difference in colour.

Since tomorrow was Chris' birthday, we had a dinner reservation at Nobu. Chris thought we were going alone, but I actually had invited some of our friends to join. Scott made the reservation, so they could come in earlier and be there when we arrive.

“I’m going to walk Dodger, but I’ll be back in like 30 minutes, so don’t shower without me, alright?” Chris winked, taking Dodger's lead and opening the door.

“30 minutes on the dot, because we don’t have much time.” I smiled and rushed upstairs to our bedroom. I already knew what I was going to wear. It was a tight, off-shoulder black dress that reached around the middle of my thighs. I’ve worn it a few times already and I knew Chris liked it. I paired it with nude suede high heels, which were also among Chris' favourites. I had a whole section of clothes Chris loved.

I undressed to my underwear and laid down on bed. Chris had only been gone about 5 minutes, so I opened Instagram and scrolled through the main page. I’ve had this urge to post something about our relationship for a while, but knowing that talking about us during the Oscars and the recent press tour was already pushing Chris’ buttons, I didn’t want to bring this up. I got rid of my private Instagram a while ago, when people found out about it and started sending new countless requests. I didn’t really feel the urge to share stuff with people all the time, but like everyone else, I wanted to share some moments with other people. Just once in a while.

Chris’ birthday was a perfect opportunity to do that. We'll see.

I checked the time and it was way past the 30 minutes I gave him. I went to the bathroom to wash off my make-up. Chris was still nowhere to be seen, so I went back to the bedroom and found my phone. I connected it with our home sound system and played Beast of Burden. I untied my hair and brushed it, before taking my underwear off and entering the shower cabin. I stood in the hot water, trying to wash off sweat off my body. It was unbearably hot today and I could only wish it gets cooler when we go out.

I poured some shampoo on my hand and wanted to wash my hair. “Lemme help you.” I heard Chris’ voice behind me. He was leaning on the door frame, watching me.

“I think I can handle washing myself, babe.” I teased, spreading shampoo on my top of my head, before I started rubbing it in. In no time I head Chris slide the glass door to the side and join me in the cabin.

“I insist,” he whispered into my ear, before wrapping his arms around my waist and kissing my shoulder. I smirked and tilted my head to the side in order to give him access. “That's more like it...”

I took a step back, pushing my butt into his crotch. Chris grunted as he looked down at his dick pressed against my ass. He leaned on the wall behind him and wrapped his arm around my waist to pull me down on to him. “I can’t believe my luck...” he whispered, palming my cheek and kissing and biting on my shoulder. “I’m marrying the most beautiful, the sexiest woman in the world.”

I turned around to look up at his face, wet hair and flushed skin from the hot water. I ran my fingers along his collarbone tattoo and placed my lips on it, while my hand travelled down to his abdomen. “How much time do we have?” I asked.

Chris smiled and lifted me up only to turn us around and push me against a wall. “Not enough.”

I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him in for a kiss. We kissed playfully, biting on each other's lips and tongues, Chris moved his lips to my chin and then neck. His fingers let go of my thigh only to sneak up to my pussy and rub his thumb against my clit. “I wish we could just stay here.” he breathed out, his lips on mine.

“You always wish we could stay in, old man.” I ran my fingers through his wet hair.

Chris' two fingers slipped into me and I gasped, throwing my head back. “Mm, you are so ready for me, baby girl.” He whispered against the skin of my neck. I whined as he moved in and out, still rubbing his thumb against my clit. “Tell me what you want.”

I brought him closer to my body, slamming my lips against his. Chris pulled his fingers out of me and reached out to the handle and turned the water off. He opened the shower and carried me through the bathroom and our bedroom to the study. My pussy brushed against his shaft and it made me moan quietly every time. He laid me down on the cold glass desk and sat on the chair. I felt his lips on my thigh. “Chris, please, just fuck me,” I groaned as his beard brushed against my skin. “Please.”

“When have you become such a cock slut, huh?” Chris whispered and licked my clit quickly, making my hips shot up.

“Probably the first time you fucked me, daddy.” I moaned, putting my hands over my breasts and playing with my nipples. Chris saw what I was doing and bent down in front of my pussy again only to spit on it. He slammed two fingers back inside me and started to move them painfully slowly. He put his hand next to my hip and leaned on it, curling his fingers inside me to hit the right spot. “Please, do it faster, let me cum, I’m so close...” I squirmed under his touch.

“In a second, baby girl, just a second.” he whispered. His thumb hit my clit every time he buried his fingers inside me. At one point I couldn’t take it anymore. I felt the built-up tension release on to Chris’ fingers. “Mhm, yeah.”

He took his fingers out and licked my come off them. “You’re so sweet, baby girl,” he said, stroking his length. “I’m gonna give you what you want now.”

Chris grabbed my calves and placed them on his shoulders. I watched his eyebrows narrow as his tip brushed against my entrance. His chest was still covered in water drops and his hair was damp. A lose strand of hair was sticking to his forehead. He finally lined his cock against my pussy and grabbed a hold of my hips to keep me from falling off the slippery wet surface. He pushed into me, his lips slightly opening.

I felt him fill me up completely and gasped as he stretched me out. “Mmm,” I moaned when Chris started to move slowly inside me. I was still so wet from the orgasm he gave me and now Chris was picking up the pace. He closed his eyes and bit on his lip, completely lost in the pleasure. The way he looked was enough to send me over the edge and to add his cock moving inside me, hitting my g-spot... I came for the second time today, but Chris didn’t stop. He grabbed a hold of my both legs, took them off his shoulders and turned me to lay on my side. A lot of objects set on the desk fell off as he pushed me rapidly, but he then continued to pound into me while also rubbing my clit to make me come even faster.

I couldn’t bear the overstimulation. I shut my eyes as we both came. Chris let out a low grunt as he thrusted into me for the last time. We were both panting, not able to catch our breaths. Chris turned me to lay on my back again, without pulling out. He leaned down and gave me a passionate kiss as he lifted me off the desk. “We need another shower,” he whispered against my lips. His cock slipped out of me and it made both of us moan. He looked down at the mess we made around my abdomen. I giggled as he lifted me up and carried back to the bathroom. My whole body felt like it was made of jelly, I couldn’t move my legs and still wasn’t able to stabilize my breathing.

“If sex with you is so good at 35, then I can’t imagine what it was like to fuck you 10 years ago.” I breathed out.

We obviously didn’t make it to the restaurant on time, but we only had a 20-minute delay. I was very surprised, when I noticed photographers as we arrived at the restaurant. Chris grabbed my hand as we escaped the car and smiled, “Do you think we still have our sex looks on?”

“I hope we do.” I said. Chris stepped in front of me to pave the way through the small crowd of paparazzi. I watched the back of his arms, the well-defined muscles that I gripped to keep myself close to him. Those two sizes too small Henleys he wears are really going to be the death of me.

We entered the restaurant and immediately went in the direction of our lounge. “Isn’t a lounge too big for the two of us?” Chris asked right before noticing people at our table. “Oooh, so that’s happening.”

“Yeah, we really would have stayed at home if I hadn’t made plans with them.”

Scott and his boyfriend, Adam and his girlfriend, Sebastian, Anthony with his wife and Chris Hemsworth were all sitting, waiting for us. I said hi to all of them, while they wished Chris a happy birthday. Scott walked up to me and we hugged, “Stella is here.” He whispered. I felt my muscles tense at the sound of her name.

“That explains the paparazzi,” I forced a smile as he let go of me and we sat next to each other. “Is she sitting at a table nearby?”

“I don’t know, I saw her at the bar and we just said hi to each other. We haven’t had any contact with her since last year, when Chris and her went out once.” Scott explained. I tried not to look around the restaurant. It was pointless anyway, the lounge was in a secluded area and you could barely see anything.

Chris and I agreed that I wouldn’t drink, so I could drive us back home tonight. By agreed, I mean Chris begged me, because he hates being driven around by strangers and he really wanted to drink tonight. Which is why everyone was getting shitfaced – apart from me.

My fiancé kept his hand on my thigh the while time we sat at the table. Because all of our companions have been invited to our wedding, it became the main topic of our conversation.

I actually spoke to Shaletta about getting married abroad. Unfortunately, she was on Chris’ side when it came to the location. Anthony and her got married in Dominican Republic, so she preferred Italy.

“I told you it’s a better idea. If you want to make our guests travel to Europe, at least make sure the conditions are bearable.” Chris shrugged and took a sip of his drink.

“Chris, do you think I want to get married on the North Pole?” I asked, “You clearly haven’t even gone though the places I’ve sent you, even though we have already booked the venue.” I snapped.

“So, why are you getting married there, if Chris doesn’t want it?” Seb asked.

“I’m a simple man, Seabass.” Chris shrugged. “My dear fiancée threatened me with a blowjob embargo, to put it in her exact words.”

Everyone laughed at his words, which made me a little bit mad, because I didn’t want it to look, like I was forcing him to do something. Chris noticed my lack of enthusiasm and rubbed his palm against my bare thigh. “No, but I gotta be honest, I would marry her anywhere. If it wasn’t for the fact that our families would murder us, we would’ve eloped a long time ago.”

“Yeah, Mom would be livid.” Scott agreed. “Lisa is a sweetheart, but she can kick ass when she has to.”

I tried to move the topic to something lightly less stressful and we ended up talking about the upcoming presidential election. Of course, Hemsworth and I were excluded from the conversation, but at least we didn’t have to worry about Donald Trump becoming president of our home countries.

“Em, have you thought about getting an American citizenship?” Adam asked.

I raised my eyebrow. “You’ve just finished talking about how a reality TV star has a real chance of getting elected as president, so here’s your answer.” I laughed. “No, to be honest, I haven’t given it any thought yet. The most important thing for me right now is to get married to this guy here and take at least a month off afterwards.”

Chris grinned and wrapped his arm around me. “True. Everything else is just supposed to provide fun for our guests.”

Thankfully, we didn’t have to leave our lounge to order new food and drinks, because at some point I saw Stella walk quite close to us. That was when Chris noticed her, because apparently, Scott only told me about her. Chris noticed that I got a bit uncomfortable and suggested we moved someplace else.

“She’s just your ex, love,” I smiled and put my hand on his cheek. “I’m fine.”

I actually got used to the fact that has dated a lot (at least for me) of women in the past and I’m bound to see or hear about them at some point, so I might as well just try to ignore it. I never considered myself to be a jealous person, but as it turns out, I just never met anyone I cared about enough to be jealous.

The Chrises, Adam and Sebastian went outside for a smoke, while the rest of us stayed behind. We were all leaving, but no one wanted to stand outside with the photographers, if it wasn’t necessary. I handed Chris his sunglasses, cigarettes and a lighter. When he asked me to keep them in my bag the only reason why I didn’t say no, was because we were celebrating his birthday.

After paying the bill for our table, the rest of us left. As I stepped out, I noticed Chris smoking a cigarette by my car. Without saying a word, he reached out his hand to me and placed it on the small of my back. “Thank you.” He whispered.

I wrapped my arms around his waist and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “What for?”

“Just generally,” he sighed, breathing out the smoke. “For putting up with a big, old, drunk meatball like me.”

I giggled and nuzzled my face into his neck. Despite the cigarette smoke, he still smelled incredible. “I love you, I don’t have a choice.” I whispered.

Chris chuckled and pulled away from me in order to walk back to a bin and throw away the cigarette. On the way back he put a gum in his mouth. Even though he had drank quite a lot, he didn’t look like it. “Can I kiss you now?” he asked as he approached me.

“I’ll make an exception, because it’s after midnight and your birthday.” I nodded lightly. It didn’t take long for him to come up to me and place his lips on mine. He tasted him alcohol, cigarettes and a little bit of mint. I got used to his smoking habit a long time ago, I just didn’t want his to know that, because it would not be a great motivation to stop smoking once and for all.

Chris placed his palms on my cheeks and deepened the kiss by sneaking his tongue into my mouth. I moaned quietly as our tongues touched and I felt a tingly sensation. His arm wrapped around my waist once again, pushing me against his body. I felt his arousal against my lower stomach and grinned at the fact that he was ready again, despite drinking quite a lot. Chris bit on my lip and then pulled away from me. “We should go, before we fuck against the car with photographers behind us.”

I narrowed my eyebrows. I actually forgot about them and realised that we had just served them with a full PDA session. “Yeah, yeah.” I nodded. Chris opened the driver’s door for me and then walked around the car to get in himself.

Chris sang the whole way back (it’s a thing he does when he’s drunk) and tried to hold my hand, but I wouldn’t let him, because I use a manual gearbox and have to keep my hand free all the time. “’m gonna buy you a car with automatic gear.” He mumbled with his eyes closed.

“I’m contractually obliged to drive this for the next two months, until they offer me another one.” I said.

“But you wouldn’t mind if we got a Tesla, right?” he asked. Chris knew that the only car that could make me switch from Jaguar, was Tesla, because I have a thing for electric cars and he know they only come with automatic gear.

“You’re willing to buy a new car, just so you could fool around with me while driving?” I laughed at him.

When we arrived at home, Chris was already asleep in the car and Dodger greeted us at the door, barking in excitement. He barely opened his eyes to walk back home. I told him I’d come in a few minutes, but had to walk Dodger out now. The dog got a bit excited to see us and I decided I should go out with him just in case.

When I came back, Chris was lying on the sofa in he living room downstairs. He always falls asleep there, because there’s a nice, cool breeze coming from the open terrace doors. He took off everything except for his boxers. “Baby, let’s go upstairs.” I said, sitting down next to him and gently nudging his bare chest with my finger.

He groaned and slightly opened one eye for a second before closing it again. “Let’s sleep here tonight,” He mumbled. “The air is amazing here, it should be our permanent bedroom.”

“Fine.” I sighed.

I went upstairs to change into the slip I wear at night and grabbed Chris’ pyjama bottoms and a blanket.

“Chris, wear these.” I said, handing him the pants. He looked up at me and groaned, but then took the clothing. While he was changing, I went to the bathroom to brush my teeth and grabbed some water for my fiancé as he will definitely need some in the morning.

“Have I ever told you that you look mesmerising right before bed?” Chris asked as I squeezed myself into the space between him and the back of the sofa. He had some trouble pronouncing “mesmerising”.

“Possibly,” I smiled and placed my hands on his hair as he moved to snuggle his face into my neck and cleavage. “Go to sleep, handsome.”

I woke up around 10am, when Chris was still soundly asleep. He moved down and his head was now on the same height as my stomach, with his arm around my hips. He pulled my slip up, so his beard was scratching my skin. He groaned lightly as I scratched his head, before reaching out for my phone.

Hannah had sent me an email earlier in the morning. I checked it out and saw a few articles with similar titles from Daily Mail, People and TMZ.

“Exes Chris Evans and Stella Smith unintentionally reunited at Nobu last night, where Captain America celebrated his birthday with new fiancée and friends”

“He cheated on me with Emilia Dawson, Stella Smith tells her friends”

“Chris Evans, Emilia Dawson walk into a bar – what now?”

I knew that if she sent me these articles, she thought I should read them, so I took a deep breath and opened the first one.

“... Smith arrived first, accompanied by a bunch of photographers, who were then surprised to see Evans and Dawson arrive about 30 minutes later. It is said that the engaged couple did not interact with Evans' ex, apart from a quick nod between Chris and Stella, when he was out for a smoke and she was leaving. It was visible that Emilia was quite uncomfortable knowing she’s somewhere there, but who wouldn’t be?”

“People from Stella's close surroundings have confirmed, that she’s been claiming Chris cheated on her with Emilia and they were still together when the Captain America actor and Dawson started dating.”

“... with Smith's new claims in the picture, we now look at the whole case in a different way. The cheating part would explain the tension between the exes during yesterday's outing. Apparently, the exes were even living together when the affair started.”

Great. Now I’m a homewrecker.

I came back to the email and checked what Hannah has written:

“Normally, I wouldn’t recommend that, but Chris’ and your movie comes out later this year and we don’t want another Angelina, Brad and Jennifer thing. I would suggest publishing a statement denying these allegations, containing some details, because if she’s actually been saying that, then we might be facing a bigger problem.”

Chris shifted and took a big breath through his nose. He stretched out his arms and looked up at me, with his sleepy, half-closed eyes. “Hi, sexy.” He murmured, before pulling my body close to his and scratching his beard against the soft skin on my stomach.

I smiled at him and found Hannah’s number, then simply texted her: “Do your worst.”

(Sidenote: I changed the name of one of Chris' exes, because I made her into a much bigger bitch than I thought I would)

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