#angie writes angst

[xxlady-lunaxx]

obanai and the thing about him hating praise towards his scar+obamitsu

obanai sat, hands fidgeting on his lap. his bandages rested on his shoulders where kaburamaru was usually perched—the snake was curled on his arm now, diligently watching. somehow, it felt like obanai had been stripped naked. the cool air against his entire face, the lack of restriction when he moved his jaw, it felt unnatural, almost. he might as well be more comfortable without clothes than without his mask. he wished mitsuri would speak. but they’d been sitting in silence for a while and, though he could feel her gaze on him, he couldn’t discern it. finally, after what felt like forever, he forced his eyes to flick back up.

mitsuri was sitting still, hands curled on her knees. her expression was one obanai hadn’t seen on her before, but pretty nonetheless. except he couldn’t find it in himself to appreciate it now. not when his entire being seemed formed of anxiety and he was barely containing himself from squirming. it was all he could do to not jump up and run far, far away. but he was trying. he wanted to stay. for mitsuri.

noticing his attention, mitsuri composed herself. her brows were furrowed, but they relaxed slightly as she smiled at him. her cheeks were their natural rosy pink, and they puffed up with her effort to say something. in a way, she was just as worried as obanai. anyone could tell it was a touchy subject.

after a moment, she mustered up the courage to move closer to him. abandoning the comfortableness of the cushion she’d been sitting on to sit directly in front of obanai. with a quick affirmation, her hands slipped under his hair, cupping his cheeks. her thumbs traced the edges of his scar, sending a shiver down his spine.

“iguro-san…” she whispered. despite the softness of his name on her tongue, it cut through the silence. obanai jolted, more surprised by her speaking than her touch.

“y-yes?” he asked, straightening. he felt like he was being called out. her fingers burned against him where skin met scar. he wished she wouldn’t touch it. as if, by doing so, the filthiness of it all would transfer to her like a disease. he felt guilty, even. allowing her to do this. allowing her to act so caring to someone who didn’t deserve any bit of it.

mitsuri’s eyebrows dipped down again, her expression a mellowed bittersweet. she let her hands fall, resting them on top of obanai’s. she squeezed gently, her skin soft as her fingers soothed him. “you shouldn’t have to hide this… you’re… very pretty, iguro-san,” she murmured. her voice was oh, so quiet. and, for the first time in his life, obanai hated it. not her voice, itself. but it was wrong. her mouth forming those words. here, now. with her gaze tracing the years filled of agony on his face.

unable to help it, obanai jerked away. he slipped off his cushion, nearly tumbling down. he managed to settle on the floor, the pillow a distance between them. his fingers knotted into the fabric of his pants. there was a sharp, belated gasp, sounding sweet despite everything. obanai couldn’t find it in himself to apologize. instead, he choked out a shaky, “i’m… not… pretty. it’s not pretty.”

“i… iguro-san,” mitsuri tried. but today was a day for firsts. so obanai interrupted her.

“what happened to me wasn’t pretty. none of it was pretty.” obanai’s throat felt hoarse, his words gravelly.

mitsuri stumbled. she hesitated. then, tentatively: “i didn’t mean…”

obanai shook his head. his hair rustled. his bandages slipped. kaburamaru was suddenly on guard. he hissed, but obanai was quick to coax him away. petting the snake gently, vaguely comforted as he soothed his friend.

“iguro-san… i’m sorry… i meant”—mitsuri looked down, her action only visible from the way her braids shifted. obanai was avoiding looking at her—“i meant that nothing could… get in the way of you being perfect.”

the words tasted bitter in the air. “i’m not perfect, either, kanroji.” obanai spoke flatly. he couldn’t understand what mitsuri couldn’t comprehend. but he felt almost sorry for her. that he was nothing she wished he was. he was far from perfect.

“you are,” mitsuri insisted. before obanai could interject, she added, “perfection doesn’t have a solid definition. some people think ‘perfect’ means their ideal person. some people think it doesn’t exist. but i think that what makes a person perfect is that they’re them. it can come in so many varieties. and you’re one of them, iguro-san. i’m sorry i came off as… insensitive, earlier. but this is what i meant.”

finally, obanai looked up. he was gaping, he knew. a flicker of amusement passed by mitsuri’s eyes. she must enjoy playing games of pretend. it took obanai several moments to speak. because he almost wanted to believe it. but he knew, as a fact, that she was only amusing herself. amusing both of them.

“you’re wrong,” he said. he pushed enough confidence into his words, allowing them to taste strong as they rolled passed his lips. “i wish- i’m sure we both wish. that what you said was true. but it’s not. if you knew- if you’d seen… you would realize. you’d agree with me.”

only a beat of silence, this time. mitsuri was indignant. “perfect people don’t have to do everything right, all the time, iguro-san. we’ve all done stuff we regret. we’ve all done bad things before,” she said firmly. she looked like she wanted to move closer but was holding herself back for his sake. he let himself appreciate it.

“that’s not it. it’s different. it’s more than just something i did.” obanai returned to staring at the ground. his fingers itched to rewrap his bandages. “it’s worse.”

“it couldn’t be,” mitsuri said quietly. “if you didn’t even do it, then—“

“you just- you don’t get it!” obanai snapped, abruptly. his head jerked back up so he could look at her. his fingernails dug into the palms of his hand. “you wouldn’t understand! just- just stop! stop trying to pretend that i can be a better person, when it’s written in my god damn blood that i can’t! you’re just- you’re the perfect one, okay? i can’t compete! i don’t want to! so stop acting like i ever could!”

mitsuri was stunned, her eyes wide. but her surprise seemed purely on his outburst, shying away from his words. why wouldn’t she just let it go? accept that he could never be anything good? he hadn’t anticipated this when he’d worked up the idiocy to show her his scar. he’d almost hoped she’d be scared away. or, at the very least, finally see his flaws. realize he isn’t as great as she thinks he is. and yet all she can muster to understand is that none of it is a good memory.

when the silence stretched on, obanai’s shoulders slumped. he hated that she refused to see it. but he hated himself equally, if not more, for pushing it all onto mitsuri. as if he wanted her to carry his own burden. this was all so stupid. he never should’ve done this.

he turned away, making a quick work with retying his bandages, the movements precise and practiced. when he spoke this time, his voice was considerably quieter. almost meek. “please, kanroji,” he mumbled. “i’m sorry. please forget any of this happened.”

then he stood. he heard her calling out, maybe following him too, but he forced the temptation of her voice away. replacing it with the shock on her face instead. allowing his guilt to guide him out and away. kaburamaru moved back to his usual place as obanai rushed home. but this was how it should be. kaburamaru on his shoulders, his bandages wrapped tightly around his jaw. tucking away and repressing everything that shouldn’t be shown. the only evidence of his visit was mitsuri, who was left standing by the doorway. he could only hope she’d heed his advice and forget what had happened. it was only for the best, after all.

[weepinglavenders]

Staying Put: Kill Me (Part 8?)

If Newt still had his gun he would have shot himself in the head right there. He knew he was alive, knew that something had saved him, again. He didn’t want to be saved. He never wanted to be saved. He didn’t need to be saved. How hard is it to shoot someone in the damn head? It’s a pretty big target. How do you mess that up?

He sat up, glaring at the white room, a doctor inside. They looked at him and went to say something but Newt just flipped them off.

“Slim it. I don’t need you to tell me what bloody happened and no I’m not grateful that you shucks saved. Get me an IV with either a really good drug or poison to kill me with, you can decide.”

He finally looked at the lady who stared at him in shock, he just gave her a blank expression before sighing and standing up from his bed. He walked over to the door, raising an eyebrow as he found it was unlocked and he stepped out of the room. He was in a clean sweater and jeans, which he was thankful for because it was cold as hell in the hallways. His shoes were gone, much to his disappointment. On a whim he opened a door, looking into the room to see it was a storage room.

Newt rolled up his sleeves, seeing that all the bandages were gone along with his black veins. He walked up to a locked glass door, staring detached at the contents, eyes landing on a bottle that looked like a thick liquid. He grabbed a metal chair and slammed it into the glass without a second thought, grabbing the bottle and sighing quietly as it sloshed against the walls.

Not morphine but it was definitely something. He looked at the small writing on the back, popping it open as he saw the word alcohol, not really caring if it was drinkable or not. He drank it, walking out of the room to see people walking by. Sirens went off and he sighed, getting a bit annoyed at all these security breaches. He followed the crowd in the direction they were running to, sipping from his bottle as he walked. An explosion made the building shudder.

I wonder who that could possibly be.

He hummed quietly, his body feeling numb as he watched the WCKD staff be shot at.

“Newt?!”

It was Gally. Of course it was. He ran over to him, covering him as he took out more of the staff.

“You’re supposed to be-”

“Dead? Yeah, I’m disappointed too. What the hell are you shanks doing here?”

“Saving the immunes and Thomas.”

“Oh he got caught?”

“As part of the plan. You’re not sour about us leaving you in the berg, right?”

He laughed, giving Gally a warm smile.

“No of course not!”

He smashed the bottle into the side of his head and grabbed the launcher from him as he staggered back, clutching his bleeding head.

“Is what I would say if I was a bitch.”

He shot him in the chest, launching him backwards with the jet of electricity. He walked over and looked down at his seizing body.

“You just stay here, it’s for the best, you could blow the whole thing.”

He said sweetly, using the words that his ‘friends’ had said to him. He knew he was being insanely petty but he just couldn’t find it in him to care. They had left him behind again, he had been saved, again. He was sick of it.

“And just to put it on record, this is very personal.”

He stepped over him and slipped past the fighting, humming softly to himself, the alcohol making him feel calm and slightly fuzzy though he’d only drank half of the bottle. The next person he ran into was Ava Paige and he grinned as he spotted her.

“Newt? You should be recovering not-”

“Where’s Tommy?”

He asked, voice void of any emotions, standing right next to her, glaring, his launcher aimed at her heart.

“Why would I-”

“Because I know you shanks have him. Where is he? And God save you if you don’t tell me I will shoot you so many times your heart will have to restart three times before it finally kills you.”

He hissed and the Chancellor's face paled at his threat.

“He’s going back into the maze to get the rest of the immunes. We don’t need them anymore, there’s a flat tram from them to escape through.”

“You don’t need them?”

“No, we have enough data.”

“Oh, then where is the flat tram?”

She gave him directions and he walked around her, hearing her sigh of relief. He turned around and shot her in the back, watching her fall flat on her face before he walked away, humming again. He followed her directions and sure enough, there was Tommy, helping people get inside the flat tram. Newt looked behind him and saw Janson who stared in rage at the boy.

“YOU! YOU MISERABLE CHILD!!”

The Crank screamed and Newt shot him, aiming at the other two nameless guards.

“Give me your goddamn guns or I’ll break your legs with my own shucking hands.”

Instead, they pointed them at him. A shot rang out from behind him and one fell, blood shooting out of their forehead. Newt turned around and there was Thomas, looking at Newt like he was seeing the dead, relief filling his eyes as he walked up to him, looking like he wanted a hug but Newt hefted up his launcher and pointed at him, making Thomas freeze.

“I begged you. I trusted you.”

“Newt, I shot you.”

“And you managed to not kill me.”

Thomas looked at him, hurt.

“I don’t understand your pain, Newt, but dying is definitely not the right answer to get away from it. Please, come with us, we can recover from this, together.”

“Together? Like how we went into Dever together or how we went together to get our friends? That type of together?”

His voice was cold, slowly turning into pain and anger. He was so sick of them leaving him but not letting him leave them.

“I’m sick of it! I’m sick of waking from nightmares and having to see them again! I hate the feeling of knowing I will never see Alby or Lizzy or my parents ever again! There’s no place in this goddamn hell hole of a world that is safe from those fucking nightmares! I DON’T WANT TO LIVE LIKE THIS ANYMORE!”

Hot tears ran down Newt's face and his grip turned white on his weapon, staring at Thomas.

“Please don’t make me stay here Tommy. I can’t do it anymore.”

The launcher slipped out of his hands and hit the floor loudly and Thomas rushed forward, wrapping him in a hug and falling to the floor with the boy’s body as Newt sobbed in Thomas’s chest, clutching to his shirt. He stayed silent, fingers tangling into his blonde hair to keep him close, pressing his forehead to his head as he fought back his own tears.

“Don’t make me do this again, Newt. Stay with me, please. We can work through this, and I won’t leave you behind again.”

Newt didn’t respond, his shoulders shaking with silent sobs. Minho ran over as the building shuddered again.

“We have to go!”

He picked up Newt, who didn’t protest, as they ran into the flat tram. Gally barely managed to make it in time before the building collapsed.

[keigo-takamis-no-1-simp]

Ｈａｗｋｓ Ｘ Ｒｅａｄｅｒ - Ｌｅａｒｎｉｎｇ ｔｏ ｌｏｖｅ: Ａ ｖｏｉｄ ｗｉｔｈｉｎ

TW/CW: (Descriptions of dissociation)

𝙿𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐: Hawks x Reader

𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: Is it worth attempting to remember things?

𝙶𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎: Angst, kind of a slow chapter?

𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 1481 (A shorter chapter, I know- but we are going places with Daber!)

𝚃𝚊𝚐 𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝: @marydragneell, @numblytemporary, @rainycloud858, @theplacetoputfics, @aceofspades190, @tipheeweefee

𝙼𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝

𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝙾𝚗𝚎 / 𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚃𝚠𝚘 / 𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚃𝚑𝚛𝚎𝚎 / 𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝙵𝚘𝚞𝚛 / 𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝙵𝚒𝚟𝚎 / 𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚂𝚒𝚡 / 𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚂��𝚟𝚎𝚗 / 𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝙴𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 / 𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝙽𝚒𝚗𝚎

Note: hello! I am in fact not dead! I am so sorry for the lack of posting of literally ANYTHING in a while- been working full time and I have gone back to school. With any luck, these will become a BIT more frequent.

As an apology: take a lil hint of what's to come >:)

"I, uh- I saw this, and thought maybe you'd like it?" He places a small quarter-sized red crystal in your palm without touching you directly. "I saw it and thought of you, if you don't like it-" His words tumble out, but the sight of a soft smile on your face brings his words to a halt. A light rose color dusts his cheeks.

"Keigo, it's beautiful. Thank you"

“What?” Your eyes narrow as you exhale. That wasn’t even possible, was it? Not to the degree or the amount that was missing. “That- how would they even-” Your eyes narrow. 

“... how would you even know that?” Considering everything, especially with her not seeing him in YEARS- how the hell would he have gotten that information. He scowls, crossing his arms and shifting his weight onto one hip. 

“I have my ways. Besides- when you disappeared, you really think I’d just let that go?” He shakes his head. Keigo’s wings bristle, your eyes flicking over every so often. He was still extremely pissed, and it brought a weird feeling to your stomach. His anger is real enough… but he doesn’t quite seem real himself.

“The hell do you mean, erased her memories? She remembered your name. She knows you-” He almost growls, and Touya gives him a warning glare. 

“... I did some digging. Looking for autopsy reports- and found something about experimental ECT for memory suppression. Sure enough, this pretty thing here popped up.” He gestures to you. 

ECT… where they’d electrocute people..? Would your mother do that? It… didn’t exactly seem out of character. She didn’t ever really give a damn how you felt about things. She just.. Did them at her own discretion. A sense of weightlessness starts to envelop your being.

Keigo’s glare softens slightly, and he turns to face you now- still irritated, but a little more understanding. “So how the hell do we get them back?” There’s a tightness to his tone- as though he doesn’t want to entertain the idea of Touya being right. 

“... Certain triggers, or another round of the ‘therapy’.” He leans against the wall. He looks… unsettling. Black hair, scars and piercings littering his body, all black attire- and yet, you don’t find yourself afraid of him. Yet, just like Keigo, he doesn’t seem all the way there. Like with a strong enough breeze, his form would dissipate. 

Keigo’s eyes flick over to you, and another series of irritated clicks leaves his throat. For some reason, guilt floods into your gut. 

“Fine.” Keigo sighs, letting his arms drop and his hands slide into his pockets. He clearly doesn’t believe him, or you. Frankly, it hurt a bit. You’d been honest, but his mind was made up. 

“... what if I don’t want to remember..?” Your voice is tentative- and both males glance over at you. Why does your own voice sound so weird? Keigo’s nose scrunches with disdain.

“You want to forget years of your life, even if you have the chance to get them back?” There’s a sense of… why did he still sound so angry? 

“If- if it’s bad enough that it was forcefully repressed, maybe it’s better left in the past-”

“The past never dies, princess,” Touya growls quietly. “If y’don’t face it, it’ll come back eventually and bite ya in the ass.” Something in his words clicks. Maybe it’s his tone, or the somber look in his eyes. 

Keigo’s wings twitch a little more, and he runs a hand down his face. “Matches is right, as much as I hate to admit it.” His voice is a little softer than before. The tightness in your chest that was growing consistently starts to dissipate. 

“You said certain triggers would cause the memories to come back, right..?” You aren’t sure if you want to look into this- after all, the few things you did remember weren’t great. But… having those huge holes in your memory didn’t exactly sit right with you either. 

“Supposedly. But I don’t know enough about this shit to really say much else.” Touya hums. A soft rumble of thunder catches your attention. You always hated storms… you aren’t sure when it started, but there was always a sense of dread as the dark clouds and rain rolled in. 

At least you’re inside. 

The more they speak- the more it becomes enmeshed together. Their words and syllables become soft sounds foreign to your ears. It intermingles with the rain to a point everything is just a hum in the background. The hallways, the figures in front of you… it’s all hazy. 

What was this? It’s not unfamiliar. You’d been here before. This headspace, this mindset. But why couldn’t you remember it? 

Red wings, blonde hair, amber eyes… Hawks. Keigo. Right. 

Black hair, scars, piercings, blue eyes… Touya. 

He looks at you for a moment, his lips moving with those odd noises coming from them. Was he speaking to you? It wasn’t english. You should probably say something. But how do you respond when you’ve got no idea what they’re even saying? 

Keigo suddenly turns towards his apartment, pacing off. Touya’s eyes follow him, but his lips don’t move anymore. You were more than likely unwelcome there. Touya’s eyes linger on his door, before nodding towards it. It’s oddly natural, falling into step behind him. 

He pushes open the door, and Keigo is nowhere to be seen in the main area. It’s silent, his door shut. Touya filters back in a little more, but your eyes pan down to the palms of your hands. Were these yours? They didn’t look right. 

Your fingers are too long and thin, and the creases don’t seem to go the right way. His voice slowly filters through the utter fog in your head. 

“... [Name],” It’s rough, and empty. It shouldn’t be surprising, but it doesn’t mean anything regardless. Your eyes shift up to him. He sighs. 

“Get some sleep. The damn bird is pissed but he’ll get over it.” He shakes his head, before looking at you closely. It’s as though he wants to say something- but then thinks better of it. Without another word, he steps out of the apartment. Leaving you with the odd but not unpleasant silence. 

The sound of your own footsteps sounds softer than usual as you head to the guest room. Your antibiotics sat on the table- when had they been delivered? The plush carpet is nice beneath your feet. Picking it up, you look it over. You should probably take one now, shouldn’t you?

Rubbing your eyes, you take out the amount it describes, and swallow it dry. Sitting on the bed, you leave the bottle on the nightstand beside you. 

Your eyes focus on no real point in particular. Touya wasn’t too different from before, but… if Keigo was the kid from your dream, did that mean you’d known him too? 

Your mother… it didn’t matter what happened. You don’t need to know. It would be harder to remember than to keep going like this. You were used to this, after all. Change didn’t have to be bad, but there wasn’t anything to gain by finding out. 

Flopping onto the bed, a soft breath leaves your lips. The ceilings are high, with a light grey tint. This whole thing.. It didn’t feel real. It didn’t feel right. 

Keigo paces in his room, fuming. You’d just stared at them, and hadn’t said a word. You apparently didn’t know- but he still couldn’t wrap his head around that. 

You knew Touya without even seeing him. Touya- who used to have the biggest fucking crush on you. Touya, who was a complete fucking asshole until it came to you. You remembered him. 

But not the kid that essentially saved your sorry ass. 

He groans, running his hands down his face as his wings twitch restlessly. You wouldn’t do that intentionally- that much was obvious now. But it still hurt. Trills and clicks fill his room, until he can’t stand it anymore. 

He takes in a deep breath, heading out. Touya was nowhere to be found. Neither were you. You weren’t in the living area, or the hall- so he finally checks the guest room.

Some of the anger and frustration melts away when his eyes settle on your slumbering form. Somehow, you’d fallen back asleep. You definitely needed it, but- god, had he read into everything? 

He’d felt that spark again. That stupid feeling he got when his stupid fucking bird brain felt like courting would be a great decision. You literally just got the news you’d had a miscarriage. How the hell would you feel about him suddenly saying ‘hey, I think you’re really cool, I like you a lot, maybe we can hang out or something sometime-’?

Silently moving towards you, he finds himself drawn to you even more. You were… closed off, for sure- but you were sweet, caring, and had gone through hell and back. Yet, you were still here. 

“... you have no idea how much I missed you,” he murmurs, taking in your softened features. Your laugh, your smile- they were rare, but he’d give anything to continue seeing them. You deserved to be happy- and sure, he’s still pissed. 

But Touya was right. It wasn’t your fault. 

It was your mother’s fault.

[poraphia]

wilbur x reader but reader is getting married and she asked wilbur to play at the wedding bc reader found partner at a lovejoy concert (wilbur and reader were friends before this and he invited her). but wilbur had feelings for her so he's playing aggressively and bitterly, esp during some pebble brain songs (its all futile its all pointless and perfume)

[trash----panda]

*cackling*

really like how their portal turned out

EIR THROWING HANDS, IT'S ON NOW

(imagine being beat up by a child, not me)

[r0semaryt3a]

“You were taught one thing and one thing alone: to fail is to bleed. Now try again.”

That was the message Mrs Rosabelle instilled upon her child. That young, doe-eyed child. For there was no place for prey amongst the mighty, you devour and leave nothing in your wake.

The golden veins that throb against her skin stand as a reminder. A dull memory of those nights spent screaming against laminate flooring, “Again.” Her mother’s voice is but a whisper (a cruel thing really). A single finger lifts Avangelin’s face from the floor; vile, viscous red pooled from the open wound that was her lips. Tears and gargles, hardly resembling a tune, fought for attention.

The gargles soon ceased, silenced by harsh gulps. “Progress cannot be made if signs of failure are still present my dear.” The world was swaying, a dizzying mess, “The world will not be this kind, it would see you paint the streets in your misery before allowing you the taste of love.” Every second, every ounce of blood choking the life from her eyes, the taste so bitter, was progress.

“For this is love my dear, success is a virtue.”

Failure was a sin, a sin that if fallen victim to taunts the mind. Failure drives grown men insane.

Failure would not be tolerated.

“Now, again.”

-

Small Angie Drabble of her mother’s “vocal coaching”. Uriel may have been bad but by god was Mrs Rosabelle a monster.

( @cl-0v3r @hamishfish - sorry for the tags but I want to know your impressions of Avangelin’s dear mother.)

[red-balloon12]

Doing a writing exercise for some Mare angst based on @plummayor ‘s latest art piece cuuuuus…vent.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mare blinked, tears streaming down his face that covered his artificial ones as he stared at his host.

A pang if understanding went through him. He understood Nate’s anger…his pain…his sadness.

But then…the more he thought about it……the more unfair his anger seemed.

He pushed himself away from Nate. His eyes lowered and his own anger started to grow.

“I…I never asked for this…to be made. I never wanted this. They created me, Nate. Not me. And I understand your hurting..you’re pain..”

His voice started to rise as he started to walk, slowly backing Nate up. His host’s eyes started to soften little by little..

“But here’s the thing you don’t seem to understand…

And then silence. It was deafening…suffocating.

“I’m not real. You are. You can exist without me…with out them! We both know that years from now I’m going to fade away while you’re still living on, smiling and loving your DAMN LIFE!”

His voice roared and Nate actually felt himself flinch a little. Mare was now up close to him. His eyes were glowing with purple rage. Now it was Nate’s turn to listen…

“YOU DON’T GET TO BE MAD AT A FUCKING CHARACTER YOU’VE NEVER HAD A PROBLEM IGNORING FOR YEARS! I’VE HAD TO SIT HERE IN THIS VOID WAITING YOU TO COME BACK FOR ME..FOR US AND THIS IS THE FIRST THING YOU DO TO ME?!”

Mare panted heavily, his face burning with anger and wet with tears.

“I’m sorry you feel this way…Nathan….you have the privilege to fix it.”

He turned away and took a few steps forward to walk away from his host before he stopped.

“I don’t.”

[caffeiiine]

weagh. take cult angie.

read the tags + 980 words + angie centric + my hcs for her backstory i hate what they did with her canon one

[petorahs]

i literally dont get people who hate yukari shes such a sweetheart to you at the beginning. oh wait i'm playing as femc

[throwmethroughawindow]

Degrassi dropping some major angst

“Why do you treat me like dirt?”

“Because you let me”

OKAY!!!!!

I’m about to start writing 😛😛😛😛

[caramello-styles]

that was my girlfriend bel 😭😭😭 everyone went nuts including me!! YOU GOT ME THERE ANGIE!! AND SHE IS COMING HOME WITH HIM!! this is just perfect 😭 beautifully done to close this book, you are incredible angie 🥹 each chapter got me hook with the perfect amount of angst and fluff 🥺 finally finished reading this book, their love, their journey— its bittersweet 😭😭 they are forever engraved in my heart, your piece brought so much joy in my life 🤍 I can see your brilliant mind throughout this series, thank you so much for sharing it with us angie 🥺🤍 once again, YOU ARE INCREDIBLE 😜

Home

tonight we say goodbye

Word count: 16646

A/N: hi friends! this is it, the moment you've all been waiting for the final part to love on tour. i know i made you wait some time, but promise this will be worth it. i love you and i do hope you know the door isn't closed for them, your favorite couple will return.

please remember to reblog! let me know what you thought!

warnings: smut, fluff, not a hint of angst.

love on tour series // previous part

New York, New York

“El universo te manda el amor que te mereces.” 

You're sitting in your papi's lap, head tilted to the side, eyes wide with curiosity. “¿Y qué amor es ese papi?”

He reached his hand up and stroked your cheek affectionately before booping your nose with his index finger, making your laugh ring around the room. 

“Uno que te llena de tanto amor que sientes que sale de ti.”

"¿Tienes eso con mami?" You asked, knowing very well what the answer would be. 

“Por supuesto. Tu mami es mi otra mitad. Mi alma gemela. Ella me llena de tanto amor, y hago todo lo posible para recordárselo todos los días.”

His smile is soft as if he's letting himself get lost in the memory, but you aren't done with the conversation yet. 

“Y yo, papi. ¿Encontraré a mi alma gemela?”

“Mantén tu corazón abierto, mi vida y lo harás.” He assures you. 

"How will I know?" Your face is filled with concern, wanting love just like your parents. 

Your papi chuckles, sensing your worry. He kisses your cheek, holding your face gently, making you look at his beautiful chocolate eyes that always leave you mesmerized. 

“Él sabrá la canción favorita de tu mamá.”

You nod, taking in the information. At only eight years old, you're already so curious, wanting to know all the answers to the universe but having to wait. For now, you'll settle for enjoying your parents' unconditional love.

"Did I lose you, querida?" Harry chuckles, grabbing hold of your hand, the cold press of his rings against your warm palm startling you. 

"Daydreaming," you chuckle, sitting up. You hold his hand tighter. 

"Of me?" Harry teases. 

You shake your head, "cheeky man."

"A guy can dream," he laughs, leaning in and kissing your cheek. 

"What were you saying before?" 

"Oh, that Gemma is on her way up." 

Your eyes widen. You feel your heart begin to speed up. 

"Already?" 

Harry chuckles, "come on, it'll be fine." 

You're grateful that he's trying to be reassuring, but it doesn't lessen your nerves. 

"Harry." 

"Yes?" 

"This is serious," your voice raising. 

"Bel," he shakes his head, "you've met my mum."

"I know," you sigh. 

"And she loved you," he reminds you.

You feel your face heat it up, but don't let it stop you. "It's your sister." 

"I'm aware."

You roll your eyes, continuing to share your concerns. "You look up to her. You've told me all these wonderful stories about her. How much you love and support each other. I'm aware of how important sibling relationships are." You take a deep breath. "I want her to like me." 

"We already know she does," Harry jokes. 

You muster up a slight grin. "No, H, want her to like me. Not the person you can see on your TV or theatre screens." 

"Oh, querida. Mi sol, I'm sorry." He kneels down in front of you. You can see the sincerity in his face for brushing off your concerns. Harry brings your hand to his lips, pressing soft kisses on your knuckles. "She's going to love you, Bel. Because you're kind, sweet, honest, and funny." 

"Promise?" You ask timidly.

"I promise, and if not, I'll give her a stern talking," he says, making you laugh. 

"Okay, let's meet Gemma." 

"And Michal," he reminds you.

"Right, of course." 

Harry stands up, and you follow right behind, stopping right by the door that will lead you to the living room, where Jeff is already greeting Gemma and Michal. You take a deep breath squeezing tightly onto the hand Harry allowed you to hold but knew he would soon be letting go to properly greet his sister and her boyfriend. 

"Love you, Bel." Harry reminds you as he begins to push the door open, giving you the final few seconds to nod and repeat the sentiment. 

As soon as he opens the door, you can see a beautiful pale brunette with similar facial structures, making you want to laugh because Harry was beautifully tan while Gemma burned when in the sun too long. Something she always envied she shared with you one time when you joined in on one of hers and Harry's facetime calls. 

The smile on her face was just as beautiful as Harry's, if anything, seemed friendlier. Less reserved than Harry was when you first met so many years ago. 

"Gemma!" Harry cheers loudly, holding tight to your hand as she steps away from Jeff to greet you both. 

"H, you look well." She brings him in for a hug, and at that moment, he lets go of you, but you don't feel like you're drowning. Instead, you feel anchored watching the two siblings hug and whisper to each other before pulling apart, laughing at a joke one must have told. In the next second, Harry is back by your side, intertwining your fingers. He saw you didn't need the support, but it was comforting. He gave you exactly what you needed, and you were grateful. 

"Gemma, this is Y/N Belmonte, my girlfriend," Harry tells her proudly. The twinkle in Gemma's eyes grows bright as she eyes your hand that is clasped in his. 

"Hello, Gemma. Lovely to meet you. Bel is fine if you'd like." 

"I'd like," she jokes. 

You nod, glad she's not as shy as Harry when meeting new people. You couldn't handle that right now. Not when you're focused on making a good first impression and trying to bite back a laugh at looking at Michal, who is hiding behind Gemma but failing to do so because of his tall frame. 

"Is a hug okay, or are you permanently glued to his side," Gemma teases when Harry tugs you closer to his side. 

"A hug would be wonderful."

You and Gemma meet in the middle, her hug warm and comforting, almost as similar to Anne if anything, she doesn't squeeze you as tight, giving you space to back away if you feel you need to.

"It's lovely to meet you, Bel." She whispers in your ear. 

"You as well, Gemma. I've been looking forward to it." 

You feel her laugh, "still mad mum met you first, actually more mad Harry met you first." 

"Why, think if you met me first, we'd be best friends instead of with your brother, Gemma, the best friend snatcher," you decide to joke. You tense up, pulling away to see her reaction. 

Gemma is still for a second before laughing aloud, bringing you in for another hug, much shorter than the first.  

"God, I love you. You're funny." 

You let out the deep breath you were holding, "I'm serious. I hope we can be friends."

Gemma nods, "I'd like that." 

"What did Bel say? I want to laugh," Harry whines, slipping his arm around your waist. 

"It's a secret," you wink at Gemma.

Harry gasps dramatically, "already teaming up against me, rude." The smile on his face says different. You know he's glad all your nerves are gone, and you feel comfortable with his sister. 

Now time to meet Michal, the quiet one. 

"Hi, Michal, right?" You wave, offering him a kind smile, hoping to get a response, but he moves closer to Gemma, who only nudges him forward, doing nothing to help him. 

"Michal, you're embarrassing me." Gemma fails to whisper, causing the entire room to laugh. 

"It's lovely to meet you," you try again. 

"He watched your film on the way here," Gemma snickers. 

"Gem," Michal scolds. 

"Oh, that's sweet." You look over at Harry, who's holding back a smile and only shrugs at you. 

"Well, of course, you're brilliant." He offers, before looking away sheepishly, his cheeks going red. 

You smile at him kindly, unsure how to move the conversation with him being so timid. 

"Now Michal, relax, stop flirting with my girlfriend," Harry teases, causing Michal to turn to Gemma shaking his head before turning to you. 

"I wasn't." He answers. 

"Kidding," Harry replies, and finally, everyone joins in laughing, cutting all tension. 

First meetings are hard, but you like to think it went well. 

You all sat down having breakfast together; Jeff had long excused himself and talked. All the nerves went away for everyone as you got to ask each other questions. Gemma mainly asks about your family, and Harry jumps in to tell them all about your family up in Minnesota, not wanting you to feel pressured to talk about your parents, and you were thankful for that. As much as you like Gemma and Michal, you aren't as comfortable pouring your life story as you were with Harry back in St. Paul. He tells them as much as he remembers before Gemma shuts him up with a gentle slap to his head. 

"Oi," Harry rubs his head while Gemma snickers lightly. 

"Want to hear from Bel, not you. Hear enough from you." 

"Gemma, you're being rude." 

You and Michal sit back, enjoying the siblings go back and forth with their meaningless teasing. Both the smiles on their faces are permanent. 

"Is it always like that when they reunite?" 

Michal nods, looking away from them to stare at you, seeing how you're taking it in, but it reminds you of Naomi and her siblings. "Always. Think you can get used to it?" 

You don't hesitate when you answer, "nothing I'd love more." 

After Harry finally settles down, giving his sister a kiss on her head, he leans back into you, the smile on his face shining bright, and it brings you joy that you get to enjoy these moments together. 

"What do you have planned for the week?" You ask them, having moved to the couch settling next to Harry as he holds on tight to your hand. You know he's doing his best to hold back on PDA, not wanting to make you feel embarrassed or make anyone uncomfortable. He respects you. 

"We want to tour Yankee Stadium," Michal tells you, practically bouncing out of his seat for excitement. 

You widen your eyes in surprise, "Yankee fans? Yikes," you grimace. 

"Not a fan," Gemma states. 

"Nope. I don't follow the sport much, but if I had to pick one, the Boston Red Sox is the only team." You tell them proudly. 

Gemma looks at Harry, who's frowning now. "H is a big fan of the Yankee's." Harry shoots her a deep glare for bringing it up. "Even has a Vintage Yankee jacket he had Lambert find."

"Nope, can't do this." You say while standing up, moving to walk away from him, teasing him. "End of relationship." 

Harry rolls his eyes at your dramatics, reaching his hands forward and wrapping his hands around your waist, pulling you into his lap where you fall back on him dramatically. He buries his face in your neck, peppering you with kisses as you giggle in his lap.

"Say you didn't mean it," his voice muffled, but you understand him.

"H,"

"Bel, please," he begs. 

You sigh and sink back into his hold. He tightens his arms around your waist, "didn't mean it, of course, I didn't." 

"Good," he confirms. 

You peck his cheek before asking him to release you. Harry does so reluctantly, looking up at his sister, who looks away quickly as if to try to hide she wasn't watching you both. You feel your face heat up at the thought of them seeing the private exchange. 

"Hey, she's fine with it. Think she enjoys seeing me happy." 

You nod, "I know, still not used to it." 

"Well, my love, I'll never stop showing you how much I love you."

"Hope you won't. I enjoy it." You remind him, "but–" 

"To an extent," he finishes for you. 

Gemma smiles at you both, deciding not to comment anything, and you appreciate it. You know Gemma will most likely grill Harry on this later, and well, he can share as much as he wishes. You all flow back into the conversation, you ask Gemma about her cats, and they express how nice it is to be taking a short vacation. They are excited to tour New York and get to see Harry perform. 

"Question," Gemma directs her attention to you as she takes a bite of her donut. "Do you ever just want to speak Spanish?" 

You tilt your head, "what do you mean?" 

She clears her throat, "was that rude?" 

You laugh and shake your head no. "Not at all, but what is your question? I do speak it often. One of my best friends speaks it when I call them. Comes naturally when we're together." 

"I just wanted to know if you ever just wanted to speak Spanish, letting go of English. Like I know a bit of French, and if I could, it's all I'd speak, such a beautiful language." 

You lean in, nodding, understanding where she's coming from. "That'd be nice. I grew up with both languages. Honestly, I'm comfortable speaking both. Especially when I'm alone, I like to speak to myself in Spanish to keep that part of my family alive."

"She sings it all the time," Harry chirps in.

"You enjoy singing?" Michal asks. 

You feel your face heat up. No one speaks about your singing, really, unless it's for filming. "Yes," you answer timidly. "I do enjoy belting my lungs to some classics."

Harry nudges your shoulder, "she's wonderful. Might have to get her to collab with me." 

"Thank you, amor. But I'll stick to acting, so no need to discuss my nonexistent singing career." You pat his knee, knowing he wasn't joking about having you sing with him.

Gemma grins but agrees to lets it go. 

"There are times I struggle with a word only knowing it in Spanish, and then Harry has to play a game of guess the item." 

"Does that happen often?" 

"No" "Yes," You and Harry reply simultaneously. 

Harry shrugs while you roll your eyes, "it happens enough that we can laugh about it." 

They don't inquire further, which you're thankful for. 

"How's your Spanish, H?" Gemma asks, smirking. 

"It's good, surprisingly." He chuckles. 

You smile brightly, placing a kiss on his cheek. "H knowing Italian is a big help."

"We can make out the difference." 

"Also helps that you both speak English," Michal jokes.

That gets you all laughing, 

"That it does, mate." Harry leans back on the couch, bringing you with him. 

You let yourself settle down next to Harry and take in the heartwarming environment, glad that this first meeting has gone well.

Gemma and Michal had excused themselves for the day, promising to come back later to get dinner together, leaving you and Harry to spend time together as you relaxed in your massive hotel room for the last evening before the final show. 

You thought Harry would want to go out with Gemma, but he promised you he was perfect at your side. That he'd have the time to spend with her for dinner later. It made you feel like you were imposing on his time, but his kisses assured you there was nowhere else he would rather be. 

Harry and you were lounging on the couch, reading your books snuggled close. He'd peek down at you every so often to take in your reaction to the part you were reading, which led to you pausing. Tilting your head up to look at him before you could even question him, his pink lips would connect with both of you losing your pages before pulling away, smiling down at your respective books, trying to find the page you left out on. 

This was love. 

This was everything. 

This was everything you didn't know you were searching for. It's all you would ever need. 

"You alright, haven't flipped the page yet," Harry asks, and you can hear the concern in his voice. 

You lean back, letting him see the smile you're giving him. "Perdida en mi cabeza."

"Silly, Bel. Come back to me." 

"I'm here," you promise. 

"Boring book?" He asks. "We can switch if you want." 

You shake your head, but grateful he offered, "like it just fine, promise was just thinking." 

"If you're sure, baby." 

"I am."

He leans down, leaving a kiss on your nose then your forehead. "Let's read for a bit more, then a bath, mi cariño." 

"Sueno bien, corazón." 

Harry had closed his book and pressed a kiss to the top of your head, "going to start the bath." He stretched as he made his way into the bedroom. You checked your phone to see that over two hours had passed. It meant it was time to eat, you thought to follow Harry to help him prepare for your bath together only to stop when you heard a knock on the door. 

You walked towards it, opening it up only to be met with Glenne and Gemma.

"Glenne!" You shout. "You're here." 

Glenne grins, walking in as you move, welcoming them both in. 

"Arrived a bit ago, spending some time with my husband." 

"Ah, of course. Help keep the grumpiness away." You laugh with her as she brings you in for a hug. It's welcoming, and you're over the moon to see her knowing that it might be some time before you get together again after these next few nights. 

"Hi Gemma," you offer her a hug, "glad to see you again." 

"I know. I know, not as cool as Glenne. I get it," she teases. 

"Not at all. It's just been a minute since I've seen her." You tell her hoping she wasn't offended by your excitement to see a mutual friend. "Oh, I forgot to ask earlier. I wanted to get your number. Want to stop having to talk through a middle man." Heading over to the couch where your phone sits with your book and Harry's. 

You walk back over, handing it to her as Glenne makes herself welcome, grabbing a drink from the fridge you had. 

"All set," Gemma says, handing your phone back. "I was tempted to put myself down as a future sister-in-law but thought I was getting ahead of myself." 

You laugh, shaking your head, "definitely too soon." 

Glenne butts in with her sparkling water in hand, "you never know."

"Whatever, time will tell." Your face is warm, and you just want them to change the topic, although you enjoy the teasing. Reminds you of Naomi, and it's nice to know you can have similar friendships with those in Harry's life. 

"We are here because we want to ask you to dinner, Bel." 

"That sounds great," you say excitedly. "Let me ask, H."

"No, Bel," Gemma stops you. "Just us. Well, Glenne and Sarah." 

"You want to have dinner with me and not your brother." 

Gemma nods, eager for you to agree.

You're shocked. 

"Really?" You check again. 

Gemma laughs, "why are you surprised? I want to get to know you."

You look down, feeling sheepish, and shrug. It's not often people who try to get to know you or that you let others in. 

"Come on, grab your coat, and we'll go." Gemma grabs your hand excited, and you nod. 

You tell them you'll be quick, needing to check with Harry first. 

"Amor?" 

"In here," he calls out from the bathroom.

You peek your head in to see him sitting on the tub's edge, watching it fill up. His hand dipped in to check the temperature, ensuring it's to your liking. A massive part of you wants to stay and enjoy this bath. You know Harry will tell you to go. 

"Gemma invited me out to dinner." You speak quietly but know he heard as he pulls his hand out, drying it on the lavender hand towel in his lap.

"Oh darling, that's great." The smile on his face is sincere, his dimples on display. 

"Yeah, wants to go now." 

Harry nods, "do you not want to go?

"I do," you quickly answer. 

"Then why do you look sad?"

You step in between his thighs, his hands resting on your waist. "Because we had plans." You raise your hand to run through his wild curls you've been playing with all day. 

"Mi sol, it's okay. There's always tomorrow." 

"But you were getting the bath ready." 

"Then I'll enjoy a bath by myself." 

You pout at the thought, and he catches on quickly. 

Harry clears his throat, "I meant that I'm going to have an awful time in the bath alone."

"You're mean." You're tempted to go out and tell the ladies no. 

"Teasing, baby." He leans his forehead on your stomach. "Go have fun. I'll meet up with the boys for dinner, then we can go to bed together." 

"Okay," you agree finally. "Okay, don't fall asleep without me." 

"I could never." He promises you. 

Harry pulls away, looking up at you, and you peck his lips quickly, "bye then." 

You go to leave, but he sticks his thumbs through the hooks of your pants, keeping you in place. 

"Wait, wait," There's a smirk on his face, and you know exactly what he's going to ask for. 

“What happened, corazón?” Acting as if you didn't know what he was searching for. 

"Need a proper kiss, baby." 

You smile because, of course, he does. You step in closer, bringing your hands up over his shoulders to rest on his cheeks, having him look up at you as you begin to lean down close. His green eyes shine bright as you nudge your nose with his before closing your eyes letting your lips finally collide. It's soft and slow, and neither of you rushed to have it end. His hands move to rest over yours, stopping you from pulling away, not that you'd want to. 

Harry stays kissing you, not letting up. Both of you, not caring to take a deep breath, instead continue to take more from each other. Just as Harry guided you to sit on his lap, your name was called, telling you to hurry it up that they picked up your coat. 

"Bye, amor." 

"Bye, baby. Be safe." 

"Te amo." You remind him as you're walking out.

"Love you, Bel," he shouts, and you know everyone in the living room heard, but you don't care. His love is not something you know he'll never hide. 

Glenne has a coat in hand, telling you she knows which was yours and ushers you out the door before Harry could stop you, she jokes. 

"Hi Sarah," you greet. "Sorry for the rush." 

She throws her arm around you, "it's fine." Sarah nods her head to the other two ladies pressing rapidly for the elevator. "Those two like to rush when together." 

You chuckle, "I can see that. How's the bubs?" 

"Great," Sarah's smile grows as she talks about her son. "Mitch said he'd visit Harry if he got rowdy." 

"Bet he'd enjoy that."

"Who more, Mitch or Harry?" Gemma chimes in.

"Harry," you reply. "He likes taking care of little ones."

"I can't even count how many children he godfathers," Gemma comments, shaking her head. 

You all laugh, "godchildren are precious. I like that he has so many." 

"Speaking of, Mitch said he gave you dibs on our second child."

You roll your eyes. "is that how he told you?" 

Sarah shakes her head no, "he told me the conversation you had, but the gist is, you have dibs still." 

"Hey, if you both agree to it. I'm all for it."

"Do you have godchildren, Bel?" Gemma asks as you all slip into the elevator. 

"I do. Her name is Violet. She's three, turns four in March." 

"That's a precious name. Do you see her often?" 

"I do. Vi lives in New York with her father and his partner." You unlock your phone leaning in closer to Gemma, opening up the folder titled "Vi" to show her all the photos you have that you're thankful Alexander always sends you. "This was her in Oregon recently." You show her a picture of Vi sitting in a pile of snow, a pout on her face and nose red close to tears. 

"She's a beauty. Is she coming to the show?"

You shake your head no. "Not this time." 

"Didn't they come down for a show when Molly was here," Sarah mentions remembering she met the young girl.

"Yeah, I introduced H to them. Got on well with him. Nice to have him meet more family." 

"Does she call you Flower?" Gemma asks.

You gasp in surprise, "she does. How did you know?" 

Gemma nudges your shoulder, "as if you don't know my brother, you're all my brother talks about." 

You shake your head, looking down at your boots, feeling overwhelmed at the information. It's nice to know he shares about you, and it makes you wonder if you'd be doing the same with your parents. They might have even met by now, and you know they would have loved Harry. You know it.

Walking out of the elevator and into the lobby, you can see out the windows and see the sun has begun to set. 

"Bel, your coat." Glenne opens it up, helping you slip it on. 

"Thank you."

"No worries, babes." 

"It looks warm," Gemma comments.

You pull it closer around you, "very warm." 

The coat is warm, too warm you feel. As well as a bit large not fitting you as your other coats do. You take in the coat's design and instantly notice it's not yours but Harry's. The red and yellow checkered Lanvin coat that he'd taken out to wear to dinner was resting next to your, and Glenne must have grabbed the first she saw.

"This isn't mine," you laugh, burying your face in the collar, taking in his smell; it's uniquely his of honey and a hint of vanilla. "It's Harry's." 

They all start laughing at the mishaps, "do you want to go up and snag yours quickly?" Glenne offers, feeling bad. 

"It's fine," you shrug, "I doubt anyone will notice." 

Gemma sighs dramatically, "keep telling yourself that." 

"With your combined fame, it's as if anyone can find anything." Sarah reminds you, knowing how secretive and careful you both have been through the tour. 

"I'll shoot him a text to let him know, but I'm fine with it, and that's all that matters." 

They let it go, and you all make your wait to the side exit, where security was waiting for you leading you all to the waiting car, taking you to dinner. 

Gemma had picked a Greek restaurant, something you were all okay with. She promised she had a friend here that helped get the reservation. You weren't worried about being recognized, not when you were with friends. 

Dinner had been going smoothly when Milos, your waiter, brought drinks to your table, something about compliments from a gentleman a few tables down. None of you dared to look over, fearing if you did, it'd bring the person over, and you were all in happy, committed relationships. You also felt bad not wanting the person to think you weren't grateful. 

Finally, you turned around, raising your drink in thanks only for the man to have his mouth drop open at seeing you. He looked to be panicking before looking away, making you laugh. 

"Did that go as bad as I thought?" You ask them to hand your drink to Glenne, who gladly accepts it, happy not to be paying for any alcohol. 

"Yeah, the man looked shocked." Sarah laughs behind her water. 

"So was it because I looked bad or because he recognized me?" 

They give you a once over before nodding, "you look bad," they all replied. 

You can't hold back your laugh, and soon they're all joining in. It's these moments you appreciate and know that when you all go your separate ways soon, you'll be in contact. These friendships don't happen often, and you may be overly sensitive, but you're glad Harry walked into your life because he's given you so much more than just his love. He's given you friendships. 

Milos comes back one final time to do the rounds, and instead of asking for more, you ask for the check. He walks away before coming back quickly, assuring you that it had been taken care of. You look at them surprised, and they don't seem to have a clue. You thank him, making sure to leave a generous tip, happy at how the staff treated you. As you're about to walk out, the hostess stops you saying someone left a message for you. She wrote it down for you. Her cheeks are pink, not looking up at you for longer than she has to. 

"Good night, Miss Belmonte." 

"Thank you, good night." 

You pocket it, knowing the ladies are waiting on you to exit. As you do, you hear the flash failing to see the messages on your phone about them warning you trying to get you to go through the back exit. The manager, Costas, has come to usher you to the back, which you appreciate, but the car is right there, and you decide it's okay. You ask to be escorted to your vehicle if possible and Milos, the server who had previously helped you, holds your elbow as you bend your head, trying to walk past the paparazzi as quickly as possible. You hear all the questions thrown your way. 

"When are you filming?"

"Where is Harry right now?"

"How was it to be his friend?"

"What did you think of Andrew Garfield's new movie?" 

Typical questions related to all the men surrounding you. You shook your head, thanking Milos before slipping in, and he blocked the paparazzi shutting the door, allowing your driver to exit the area. 

"We're sorry." 

"We didn't realize." 

You wave your hand, "it's okay." 

"That looked intense," Gemma comments, feeling bad. 

You pat her thigh, "I'm definitely not used to it, but we got out of there quick." 

All three of them feel bad, and you know they are close to calling it a night, but you don't want to end such a lovely night because of some paparazzi, so you suggest some ice cream. It seems that's something they all can't say no to. 

After giving Colin an address, he puts it in, assuring you he'd take the long route in case someone was trailing you. 

"How do you do it, Bel?" Gemma asks. 

"What?" 

"The constant camera's never leaving you alone. The first few years, my mum was always worried. I can't imagine your parents liking it. Feel like your fame shot up overnight just like H." 

You grimace, "my family was supportive, and I was cautious. Still am."

"The one downfall to living your dreams, huh," Glenne says, shaking her head. 

You know they've all had their fair share of experiences with Harry and if there is something you're grateful for, your parents did not have to see what news or gossip magazines say about you. Although you know they'd tell you to brush it off, you know your parents would have tried to sue everyone who attempted to slander your name. 

"Not all bad, brought all of you into my life." 

"Bel, are you going sweet on us," Sarah teases. 

"Me," you play along, "never."

Soon enough, you arrive at the small ice cream shop that has all types of flavors. Gemma is excited to try new Vegan flavors asking for two scoops while you ask for a single scoop of strawberry. One thing you forgot was how small the booths were causing you all to squeeze in tight, you next to Gemma and Glenne and Sarah across from you. 

They were quick to get lost in conversation. 

"I'm sorry," Gemma whispers.

You look at her confused, "for what, Gem?" 

"I keep asking about your family, and I can tell you don't like that." You shake your head about to tell her she was wrong when she interrupts you. "Not my place to ask, but do know I'm not doing it to be malicious. I just want to get to know you better."

"I appreciate that." You look down at your cup of ice cream before you feel her nudge you, looking at her. She's grinning. 

"What?" You ask.

"Nothing, just thank you for making my brother happy. As an older sister, it's nice to know he's being taken care of when he's not home."

"I love him, Gemma." You confess.

I don't doubt it. Not for one bit," she assures you. "And I know H feels the same." 

You giggle, "I know he does. Never forgets to remind me." 

"Sounds like him." 

"I hope I'm doing a good job at reminding him," you tell her. 

"The best always tells us something you did for him. God, it's all we ever talk about," Gemma teases. 

"Hope that doesn't bother you." 

"Are you kidding me?" She exclaims, "I adore it. I've thought you were perfect since you set up that family facetime call." 

"Not perfect," you laugh off.

"Maybe not, but perfect for him." Gemma declares, sending you a large smile before jumping into Sarah and Glenne's conversation. 

It's safe to say that the night was better than you expected. You know you didn't need Gemma's approval, but you were glad she liked you and supported your relationship. 

Instead of calling it a night after ice cream as you thought you would, they convinced you to go for a walk. You were walking hand linked with Sarah's hands in Harry's coat when you felt a piece of paper in your pocket and remembered the note. You pulled it out, unfolded it, and smiled, recognizing the writing. 

Dinner's on me, my love. Don't let the ladies know, although I think they'll have a clue. I'll be waiting for you. I love you. Tu amor, Harry 

You fell in love with a romantic. You tuck the note back into the pocket for safekeeping. 

"Bel?" Glenne shouts from in front of you.

"Yes?"

"Karaoke?" Gemma asks. 

"Really," you deadpan, knowing you all have a busy day tomorrow. 

"Just an hour," they plead, and you sigh, giving in. 

"An hour sound good to you, Sarah?" 

She nods, "my baby is fine. No need to worry about me."

"Yeah, Bel. Might want to check in on yours." Gemma teases. 

"Fine, let's go in."

An hour turns into two, and before you know it, it's ten by the time you're back in your hotel room. Jeff met you all downstairs, walking you to your respected rooms, telling you that he'd see you in the morning. You set your things down quietly on the sofa, knowing Harry must have fallen asleep waiting for you. 

You undress, careful not to make any noise, and grab the white shirt he was wearing earlier in the day he must have left for you on the edge of the bed. You step into the bathroom, turn on the low light, remove your makeup, continue your night routine, and see that your moisture is open. Harry had used it when he got ready for bed alone. 

After taking your time with your routine and turning off the lights, you take off the shorts you had slipped on earlier, deciding against sleeping with them on. 

You raise the blankets slipping in under them and wrapping your arms around Harry's waist, getting as close to him as possible.

"Bel?" He asks with a voice thick with sleep.

"It's me," you pressed a kiss to his shoulder, "girls didn't want to call it a night."

"Hmm.. how'd you get them back." 

"Reminded them Sarah had a big day tomorrow."

"That did it."

"Mhm."  

"It's still early," he groans, shifting, having peeked at the clock. You loosen your hold, allowing him to turn and bury his face in your chest. 

"I know," you shush, running your hand down his back, "but I'm here, and you can sleep now." 

"I wasn't sleeping." He tries to deny.

"Sure you were." You giggle, "could hear your light snores."

"I was," he groans, admitting defeat. "Only a little."

"Let's sleep then, mi vida." You try to coax, slipping your hand into his hair, trying to soothe him.

"No," he whines. 

"H,"

"Let's talk, please." He presses kisses to your collarbone, and you know he's won.

“Alright, amor. Lo que tú quieras.”

Belmont Park, New York The Final Show 

Without a doubt, you knew it would be a good morning when you felt the weight of a hand on your waist holding you close. His lips peppering kisses across your skin. 

The morning was bittersweet because it meant no more traveling or sleeping in a bus, but it also meant no more shows and no more seeing the crew you had befriended. 

You know Harry would be feeling emotional, not that he would mention it. He liked to sulk in his feelings before expressing them, and you respected that. Harry loved being on stage and his tour ending and not starting up until next year. He was sad he wouldn't see his fans for a few months. Although he was executed because he had an album to work on and a girlfriend to take care of his words, not yours. 

"It's cold," he mutters against your skin.

"I feel it." 

He cuddles closer to you, bringing the blanket higher, hoping to keep the cold out. 

"Don't want to get up."

"Me either," you agree. 

"I can warm you up." 

You don't need to turn around to know he's smirking, having a one-track mind. 

"By all means," he lets your words linger in the air for a moment before slipping his hands under your (his) shirt, beginning to push it up as you move the blanket out of the way. 

"Don't want to brush your teeth first," you tease, feeling him push against you, how hard he's become already, all for you. 

He sits up, pulling you with him, his hands resting on your waist, toying with the band of your panties. 

"I can if you want me to," he smiles, brushing hair out of your face. 

Harry fakes as if he will get out of bed, but you hold tight to his arm that's on your waist. "No!" you shout. "Stay." 

"I'll always stay," he promises, kissing your cheek.

Looking at Harry, you felt lucky that he chose to love you and also fortunate that he let you see these vulnerable parts of him. 

Your eyes linger on his tattoos, the peek of sunlight giving him an angelic glow. He seems to note your gaze but does nothing to stop you, only allows you to keep looking. You love the contrast of tattoos, and seeing him makes you want to finally go and get yourself one. Sit there and let someone stick a needle into your skin, etching a drawing or words into your skin, creating memories on your skin that you get to carry and share for others to see. 

It might not be something you do now, but it will be something you'll want him to be at your side to hold your hand. 

You lift your hands up, offering him a soft smile waiting for him to help you. He scoots forward on his knees, his hands toying with the hem of your shirt, not taking it off quickly like you had assumed he would. Instead, he leans forward, connecting your lips with his. You hum against his lips. The slow pace allows you to melt against him. Each kiss picks up, leading to his hands trailing up your waist, pushing the shirt up when you feel the chill air hit your breasts. It makes you whimper against his lips as you feel him giggle, pulling away for a single second to get the shirt over your head before throwing it behind him, not caring where it lands. 

Harry moves his lips down to your next, pressing kiss after kiss until he arrives at your breast, caressing one as he kisses and nips at the other before switching. Your moans begin to fill the air, and he only sucks harder wanting you to be louder, and you are never one to deny him. 

"Can we try something, baby?" He breathes against your chest before kissing your lips, finally meeting your eyes that had glossed over with lust. 

"What is it, amor?" You try to focus on your breathing, knowing your attention should be on him and not how your heart might be out of your chest for him 

"We don't have to, honestly." He starts, "you can always say no." He rambles. "I never want to pressure you."

You giggle, raising a hand to brush back his hair, trying to get him to relax. "Can't answer if you don't say what it is." 

"Oh…uh, can I–can," he takes a deep breath as you rub a hand down his chest. Seeing him take deep breaths and then breathing out before asking. "Can I blindfold you?" 

"Oh." You answer, surprised. You did not expect that. 

You think it over, looking into his worried eyes. He holds your gaze waiting for you to say something. To say anything.

"I can get behind that," you nod, squeezing your legs closed tighter at the thought. 

"And tie your hands," he adds. 

You pout at his suggestion. "No touching," you whine, thinking about not having your hands on him, not something you think you'd enjoy.

Harry chuckles, his thumb rubbing your cheek softly, leaning into his hold. "Only for a bit, baby," he promises. "Give me all the control. How does that sound?"

"Sounds nice." 

"Okay, you ready?"

You smile, "yes, and I agree to no touching because it's your special day." 

"How'd I get so lucky," Harry expresses and begins to help you lay back against the arrangement of pillows. 

You adjust your head on the pillows, hair sprawled out behind you. All exposed except for the panties he has yet to remove. 

"I'm ready, sir." You purr, a smirk on your face. 

"Bel," he threatens, eyes darkening. 

"Come on, H. I want to have my own fun as well." 

Harry gets off the bed, going to retrieve the black silk tie that was in his suitcase. He retrieves another, a velvet blue for your hands. You sit, closing your eyes and letting out a deep breath as Harry assures you that he's got you and will take care of you. 

You feel his hands on the back of your head, making sure not to pull your hair. "Is it tight?" 

"It's good."

"You sure?" 

"Promise." 

He helps you lay back once again, helping you get comfortable. 

"Now your hands, okay, baby?" 

"Okay, Harry. I trust you." 

You see nothing but the darkness the blindfold provides. Harry slowly touches your hands and moves them over your head to not startle you. He ties them to the header, careful not to hurt you. He checks one too many times to see if you're uncomfortable. He continues once he's assured you're not. 

You're nervous because you aren't sure what to expect, but you know Harry and know he's going to do his best to make sure you enjoy it as much as him.

You relied heavily on your hearing, as well as everything you felt. You felt his skin against yours as he pressed kisses down your exposed body. 

"You're beautiful." 

"Gorgeous."

Kiss. 

"Stunning." 

Kiss

"One of a kind." 

"Breathtaking." 

Kiss. 

"Harry," you moan, feeling so worked up, and all he's done is leave kisses all over your body. 

Harry carefully lifted one of your legs up to his lips, kissing your ankle and moving up your leg until his lips found a place between your thighs, kissing and biting, taking in the sweet sounds you let out for him. 

"Fuck," he swore as he saw how wet you were. His hands moved up your body, resting on your hips as he removed your panties. You found it harder to breathe, never knowing what his following action would be. "All for me." 

"Yes, Harry, all for you." 

His warm breath hits your skin, knowing it's so close to where you desire it. You moan and squirm, spreading your legs open wide, ready for him to take you and do as he wishes. 

"Need you, please, H. Please." 

"I got you, darling." 

He wasted no time continuing his kisses as you felt the warmth of his breath reach your wetness. He peppered you with kisses, each feeling more intense as he came closer to what he was seeking, giving you the pleasure you deserve. 

Diving in, wrapping his lips around your bud, you squeezed your eyes shut even if you could not see. Harry had a way of knowing precisely what you needed. You gasped, hips bucking up against his face, the only thing you had control of, until Harry pinned his hands on either side, holding you still. He was relentless; his pace didn't falter as he sucked and licked your clit, wanting to reach your orgasm. 

You were a lot more vocal, encouraging him and pleading for more. Not being able to touch him pained you, but God, it only made you wetter knowing you were powerless. You jumped as you felt a finger sneak close, teasing your folds. His touch is gentle and playful. His other hand snaked up slowly from holding your waist to your breast and began pinching your nipples and pulling. Every touch was overwhelming; you felt like he was everywhere at once. 

"Fuck, Harry!" 

He lapped at your clit feverishly, teeth lightly pulling as you felt your back arch so close to release, and he felt it. He hummed against your pussy, licking you clean as he knew he was close to making you come. 

His face was so close to you, feeling like he was going in with no mercy, ready for you to cry out for him. He inserted a digit in your pussy as he felt you squeeze him tight. He took it out, signifying that you were ready to scream for him. 

"Sing for me, darling." You just knew he was smirking. God, you wished to see it. 

As he sucked on your clit not stopping a single second, you felt a heat spread over your body as you cried out his name for all to hear. Harry did not stop licking until he felt you settle. You thought your heart would beat out of your chest as you tried your best to calm your breathing, knowing Harr was far from being done with you. 

"Gorgeous, Bel." 

"Harry," you whine.

"I'm here," he assures you, pressing his body against yours to allow you to know he was moving up towards your face. He pressed a small peck on your lips, careful to see how you respond, but all you can do is moan as you taste yourself against him, having missed touching him, and his lips are the closest thing you have. 

"Okay, to continue?" 

"Yes, good. Promise, amor." 

Harry nods, then laughs when he remembers you couldn't see him. He kisses your shoulder, then up your neck. "Laughing because I nodded but remembered you couldn't see."

You shake your head, giggling freely. "Dork."

"Still comfortable, darling?" Harry asks, feeling his hand rub your cheek tenderly. 

"Yes, H. Need you." 

You felt Harry shuffle around you. All that could be heard was your breathing as you said still. 

"Protection, baby." He reminds you.

"Honorable man, even when he ties up his girl." 

You can't see his smile, but you know he's there. Always been a fan of your teasing. 

"Baby, you ready." 

You nod, "fuck me, Harry." 

Harry settles over you, rubbing the tip over your opening, making you moan out for him. He pushed in slowly, and you fit him perfectly, snug and welcoming. Absolutely made for each other. 

You moaned as he continued to thrust in and out of you. His hands rubbed down your sides as his lips connected with yours, as he swallowed each sound you made. He moved quickly, his thrust never halting, always going at the pace you needed. 

It was wonderful and everything you wanted, it was always making love with Harry.

You whined, pussy clenching around his cock as you felt him move against you, but it was not enough. It would not be when you needed more. 

"Please let me touch you," you cry, "please, mi vida." 

That's enough for Harry to give you what you need. Anything you ask for, he'll give you.

"Shh..shhh, I got you. I got you." 

Harry unties the knot, and instantly your arms wrap around him. He'd thought you'd remove the blindfold, but having that hold on him seems to settle you immediately. Your hands hold tight nails sinking in, making him hiss, but the pain is good, and he craves it. He can't believe he let you hold out for so long. Your touch was like home for him. 

He snakes his hand down to your front, circling your bud, close to reaching your highs together. His lips pressed kisses on your neck, feeling the increase of your pulse. 

"Let go for me, baby," he breathes out. 

Only moments after that, you feel him take long, deep thrusts, and soon the feeling rushes over you. Moaning loudly for him as he groans against you. Both of you going through your high together. He slows down as he sees you begin to settle, wanting to see you calm down before pulling out of you. 

You lay there for a few seconds as he gets off the bed, assuming he's discarding the condom. 

"There's my love," Harry says as he pushes up the blindfold, his dimples the first thing you see. 

You grin at him, eyes blinking open slowly as you adjust to the light. 

"Hi," you whisper. 

"Hello, mi sol. You alright?" 

"Perfecta." 

"Good, good." 

Harry lays down, pulling you against him, your head resting on his chest, your hands constantly moving over his skin, wanting to make up for the time you couldn't. As fun as it was, you know touch is important. You love being able to feel every inch of his skin, feel the small bumps and scars he has. The feel of his abs as you trace your hand over, flexing his stomach at the slightest touch. 

You settle in bed, taking in the silence. After a beautiful moment of shared passion, just taking in the moment to be together. Melting in his hold, there is nowhere safer. 

"Shower, querida?" Harry asks after a while of resting in the peacefulness of the room. 

"Aún no. Abrázame."

"Whatever you need." 

"Te amo." 

"I love you, Bel. You're my whole world." He promises, pressing kisses to your head. 

"Que romántico," you giggle into his chest.

"Shh… let's rest."

And like that, you settle in his hold for a while longer before having to actually start your day.

The drive to the venue was loud, with lots of chatter from Gemma and Michal. Jeff and Glenne kept the conversation going, asking Harry how he was feeling, adding jokes every so often. Everyone was loud and cheerful, but you couldn't help but sit quietly next to Harry. You simply wanted to take everything in, and you were. This was his night, and you were a simple spectator, as would every person coming to the show tonight. To the opening show at UBS Arena.

Where Harry would be the grand opener for an arena that he'd be able to add to his success page. Closing out a sold-out tour at a new arena would send the news to every media outlet, and you were thrilled for him. You just hated to share him tonight selfishly; you wanted him to yourself to keep all his attention on you tonight, but you knew that wasn't possible. 

At the arrival at the arena, you pull into the back, followed by a few other cars making it seem inconspicuous to the already waiting fans. There you are greeted by a team of workers where you move to stand back by Gemma, wanting to blend in, but Harry keeps you by his side, needing you by his side. 

As they speak up, saying to follow them inside, you look at Harry, who stays standing in place, taking in the large venue. 

"Ready for one last show?" You ask, arm outstretched for him to take.

Harry grabs your hand, intertwining your hands together, squeezing tight. "With you by my side, I am." 

You assure him with a smile that you'll stay by his side as Jeff continues introductions of your entire party as you begin to head inside. Harry nudges you playfully when you get a very enthusiastic greeting from the staff. You roll your eyes and push him forward, ready for the tour. 

Jeff leads the way behind a group of workers leading you through long hallways decorated with words and photos of Love on Tour. There's a sign welcoming "Harry Styles," and a lot of the crew lingers there to take pictures and share them on social media. Passing through large windows from a distance, you see the "Love Bus," as everyone refers to it. Beautiful flowers are displayed everywhere, from red to pink to blue roses looking perfect for fan photo ops later. There are even guitar cases and suitcases around, adding to the effect of touring. It's perfect for tonight.

Along the walls are photos of Harry plastered from most of the tour dates, all pictures of Anthony Pham, Harry's photographer that has been here for the majority of the shows and who has made it today to capture and record all of the final performance. 

Jeff brings you all to the stop at a sign that reads, "... IT'S NEW YORK, BABY" in a lightened-up border, making all the fans' words shine bright.

It's packed to the brim, not a single blank space left. Harry approaches the sign taking in as much as possible, his eyes scanning it top from bottom. You see his eyes well up with tears and can't help but cling to his arm, offering him that extra comfort you know he is seeking. Harry presses a kiss to your head, thanking you. Jeff doesn't rush you, letting you take your time as you quietly read out small quotes to each other. Laughing at some that are so random and tearing up to fans who managed to pour their heart out and thank him. Overall, it's a healthy mix, and you're glad that UBS did this for Harry. Fan support is something he never takes for granted. 

"You alright, mi vida?" 

"Perfect," he whispers. 

Harry closes his eyes and takes a few deep breaths before facing you, his eyes shining bright. "One last stop." 

And with that, you make your way to see the stage for one last time.

It's a beautiful view; you step forward smiling at the crew who pass you, continuing with their job to make sure everything is perfect and working for tonight. 

Harry clings on to your hard as you move to let go, wanting to step closer to the stage. Looking at both sides of the empty pit that would soon fill where endless amounts of dancing will take place. 

"Inhaler secure, H," Tom assures Harry knowing he's in for an adrenaline rushed show, and if it's anything like his final show from the last tour, he might never get off the stage.

"Thank you, I appreciate it," Harry tells him.

Soon enough, they get lost in conversation as you notice a lot of the crew beginning to come in, some looking confused and others waiting patiently. It isn't until Jeff comes to stand at Harry's side do you realize what's happening. You try to move away quickly, letting go of Harry's hand wanting all the attention on them as it should be. 

You had let go of his hand for only a second before his eyes widened, and he reached for your wrist, careful not to hold it too tight. You motion with your head that you'd only be a couple inches away standing next to Glenne, but it's not good enough for him. 

"Stay," he mouths, followed by, "please." 

You sigh, giving in because how could you say no to him. Harry intertwines your hands again, and that's when you notice the slight tremble in his hand. He was nervous and wanted extra support from you. Squeezing his hand three times, hoping he got the silent message as he began to speak to the majority of his crew. 

As Harry began his thank you speech, your eyes were on the crew huddled close together, listening intently to his every word. You saw everyone you had befriended and got to learn about. Yves was excited to go back to his family and continue to work at the flower shop he had opened up a few years ago. Kodi would go on to celebrate his engagement with a long trip and soon start planning a wedding. Anna and Bruce were best friends, having found a common interest in dogs, and were to begin visiting animal shelters when they returned home to Paris. 

Everyone here had a story to share, and you were grateful they all wanted to share it with you. You might not see everyone again, but you do know that friendships and memories everyone made would stay with you all.

"And I thank you for being here every day and working to make this show happen because this show doesn't happen without you. Here's to one final night." 

Cheers rang out as he laughed, hoping to hide the blush on his face. You nudged him playfully, smiling at him, hoping he could see how proud you were. He winked at you before telling them one last thing.

"As a small parting gift, we made you jackets!" 

Jeff holds one up, showcasing the back that says "Love on Tour" the 'o' a heart in bold white print. It reflected nicely on the silk black material of the jacket. 

He then turns it around, and you gasp as on the right side of the jacket is your first initial and last name delicately stitched; the other side has a bunny, the famous tour bunny. They made you a jacket, one they didn't have to as you did nothing but enjoy a show each night as much as you begged for something to do each time. 

You turned your attention to Harry as Jeff, and other staff began to hand out jackets to everyone excited at getting one of their own. 

Harry was grinning at your reaction. He gestured for you to turn around, helping you slip the jacket on. Once on, he slipped his hands down to your sides, spinning you around, taking in how you looked. You wrapped your arms around yourself, loving it, knowing it'd become one of your favorite new pieces in your closet. 

"Like it, baby?" 

"I love it. You didn't need to give me one." 

Harry scoffs, "and miss this reaction never." 

You laugh, "I wasn't expecting it."

"I know," he leans in, pressing a kiss to your cheek. "Come on, let's go relax for a bit. Jeff's got this."

You walked together with the biggest smile as you talked quietly, arriving in his dressing room. The door never shut, knowing everyone would be in and out today more than usual, and you looked forward to it. 

You weren't ready to say goodbye just yet.

"Bel," Harry says excitedly as he comes into the room, your phone in his hand. He had stepped out to speak with Naomi and Sarai, who called to wish him luck for tonight. As well as checking in on how Naomi's mother was doing. Very thoughtful. They originally called to speak with you, but Harry got a hold of the conversation, and well, you were forgotten, not that you minded. 

"Yes, amor?" 

You drop your book, Crying in H Mart, that you had been reading. You decided to continue when you spied it in Harry's bag when he had left you alone. He must have placed it for you earlier when you weren't looking. Harry knew that once you started reading a book, it's all that stayed at the front of your mind until you finished it. 

As much as you tried to get lost in it now, it was hard when all you could focus on was Harry and how proud you were of him. 

Harry sits down on the couch, joining, laying himself on your lap. 

"Okay, I was looking at the playlist you made for me."

"You already have it," you told him, confused.

"No, love. The one titled "mi vida."" 

Your face grows hot, "that wasn't for you." 

He pouts, "have a secret boyfriend?" 

You pinch his side, causing him to get more comfortable on your lap, rest his head on your chest, and shift the phone to give you a better look.

"No, but you already know which one I made for you."

His grin is large, and he nods, "para H," he says proudly, the playlist you made for him one night on the tour bus when you couldn't sleep. 

You lean in close and peck his lips, "exactly. Now why did you

"Well, I was curious. And you call me mi vida, occasionally.

"Okay, fine. I made it because those songs remind me of you." You confess bashfully. 

"Awe, you love me?" He teases. 

"Dork." 

Harry kisses your bicep, the closest part to him he can reach, before turning his attention to the phone. 

"Bel, there was a song I wanted to show you that I liked." 

"You only liked one," you asked, surprised, giggling as he gave you a deadpan look. 

"No, liked a lot, but there are a lot of Spanish songs."

"Well, they talk about love in a beautiful way and not a heartbreaking way as many others do in English." 

Harry takes in your answer before nodding. "I agree."

"Glad you think so. Now show me the song." 

"Right, right." 

Harry looks down at your phone, frowning when he sees that the screen is dark, before pressing the side button displaying your lock screen of you and Harry hugging, only your silhouettes can be seen. Harry took this by setting up the self-timer wanting to capture more pictures, and the sunset worked in your favor. He types in your password and struggles because his hands shake with excitement.

"Amor, relájate." You rub your hands up and down his sides to get him to settle. 

"Sorry, sorry. I got it." 

He clicks play and shifts in your hold, wanting to see your face, locks eyes with you as you take in the song's first notes, "ay, si nos hubieran visto," Franco De Vita's voice filling the room. 

Instantly your eyes welled up with tears causing Harry to frown, dropping the phone to the side, his hands moving to grab your face gently as he tried to wipe the tears you couldn't hold back. 'Te Amo' was a song you did not let yourself listen to a lot because it always made you emotional, but not Harry being the one to play it to you because it stood out to him in a playlist you made about him was special. It instantly reminded you of the conversation that came to the surface a day ago. 

"Baby, what is it?" His voice filled with worry.

"I'm okay," you promise because you are. You've never been better. 

"Then what is it?" 

"That was my Mum's favorite song," you confess. 

"Mi sol," Harry leans his forehead against your head, pressing your lips against his need to see that you are okay and what better way to express it than by a kiss. He pulls back only a little to look at your glossy eyes, "it seems your Mum, and I have good taste. The song instantly reminded me of you." 

You grin, "me too, that's why it's there." 

"Yeah, you love me." 

"You know I do, Harry. I hope you never doubt it." 

"I could never."

For a moment, you think about telling him about the recent memory that resurfaced about soulmates you had when you were eight and how your Papi possibly sent Harry to enter your life once again. But decide otherwise and keep the story to yourself because you know without a doubt that Harry knows that you were made for each other. 

Maybe one day, years down the line, you'll share the moment with him, but for now, you'll settle on loving him. 

"I promise to do everything I can to show you how much I love you every day."

Your words bring tears to Harry's mossy eyes; he kisses your lips, taking a moment to let your words sink in, locking them away for safekeeping.

"I promise to do the same but know this, Bel. I will never doubt your love. It shines bright, just like I hope my love for you does." He whispers against your lips. 

"Te amo."

"I love you."

Kissing Harry always feels special, but now at this moment, you wish to capture this moment in a jar to look back at because it's the most peace you've felt. Your heart doesn't feel as heavy. If anything, it feels lighter, and you know it's because it's in his hands. 

Maybe, before, you'd have been scared to hand your heart to someone else, knowing how vulnerable and scary the feeling is but with Harry, you've never trusted him more to take care of you. 

There's no rush in the kiss because you know you have all the time in the world together. 

Because in this life and all that follow, you know you're meant to find him, find Harry, and love him. 

One last time getting ready.

The final show where Harry will play the entirety of Fine Line. Next year, there would be shows, but it would be nothing like this tour because this special one, you got the chance to be along for the road; for it gave you, Harry. 

"One last time, to ogle me as I get ready," Harry teases, buttoning up his black trousers. 

You roll your eyes, "you implying something."

Harry freezes, looking at you, his eyes wide, quickly shaking his head. "No, I take it back." 

You laugh, "I thought so."

"Yes, because you'll get to see me getting ready tomorrow morning when I leave our bed."

"If you're lucky." 

He shakes his head, coming to stand in front of you. His hand resting on your cheek, making you look up at him. "Get on my knees if it means I'll be lucky."

You roll your eyes, "not necessary–"

"Ten minutes, H" is yelled through the door.

"Seems we didn't even have time for that."

"A tragedy," he moans.

You take him in, seeing him radiating and taking in these final minutes together. You genuinely believe this is where you were meant to be right by his side, being his support and his friend. 

"Last good luck kiss," you express, thumbing at Harry's lower lip, looking pink and ready to be kissed. 

"Don't say that." Harry sulks.

"Why?" You ask, confused.

"You're going to make me sad," he shares in a low voice.

"Harry," you reach your hand up, resting it at the back of his neck, playing with the ends of his hair, offering him comfort. "Why are you sad?" 

Harry leans in, pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose, making you scrunch your nose, pulling away only for him to grasp your waist from moving too far from him. 

"You won't be there next tour."

"We talked, remember. I'll be there as much as I can." You assure him. 

He deflates, "I know."

You lean in, closing the gap and wrapping your arms around his waist. Both of you need this at the moment, the assurance, the safety. “Mi vida, recuerda que te amo.” 

He nods. 

"I love you, simple as that." You express wanting him to realize that the next few months might not be easy but that you'll fight for him and the relationship you have built together.

Harry lets out a deep breath leaning his head against you, "I love you, Bel. Thank you for sticking around."

"Thanks for having me." You joke, causing you both to laugh and let the moment pass. 

You feel the moment slow as he tips your head the slightest bit, looking into your eyes, and you feel vulnerable more than usual, knowing how special this kiss is. The first good luck kiss you gave him in Nashville and how you got to do it until now in New York for the last time to close out the tour.

His lips move slowly against yours. He tastes of strawberries that Gemma brought to share before giving you a moment alone. You hummed against him, holding tight to his bare waist, sinking your nails in to ground yourself. 

He pulls back breathless, smiling against you.

"One last piece and you're ready." 

Harry lets you go reaching for the gold sequin fringe vest he would wear for tonight, similar to his opening night outfit in Vegas and, most recently, night three in Los Angeles. The gold is fitting for him, and you know he'll shine brighter on stage. 

You make Harry turn around, having him slip in one arm and then the other before having the vest rest on his shoulders. You pat his shoulders, signaling you're done. He turns around slowly, a smirk on his face as he takes in your dazed reaction.

"That good," he teases.

"Yes, actually. Love when this is on display," you point to his stomach where the beautiful butterfly lies, taking your index finger and tracing slowly. A smile makes a way to your face when you feel him tense against you, pulling away, knowing there is no time to have extra fun when he's minutes away from going into his box for the final time. 

"Go on, rockstar," you nod, gesturing to the door. "Time to go."

Instead of heading towards the door, he kisses you once more, this kiss faster and burning, feeling every emotion he is pouring into the kiss. 

"Let's go." 

Exiting the dressing room, Tom and Gemma were lingering, having a conversation that halts seeing you both coming out.

"All done? Still had thirty seconds," Tom jokes.

"Shut up," Harry punches his arm, pulling you along as he hugs Gemma and tells her quietly how happy he is to have her here. 

"Only came because Mum said you get pushed into a box." 

Harry shakes his head, "I'm not pushed into it. I get in carefully and then roll towards the stage." He explains, also knowing she will be able to see. "I'll be sure to mention it to Mum later." 

"Not if I deny it." 

"I got a witness," Harry counters.

"You can't use Bel." 

"Why not?" 

"You know Mum loves her. Only speaks wonders of her. Makes it unfair." 

"Not my fault. She's perfect." Harry expresses proudly.

"Harry," you breathe out bashfully, knowing there are others around you. 

"Going shy on me, love." 

Before Harry can continue, he's called over to get situated and taken understage. The fans had waited long enough without an opener. 

He gives everyone a hug, saving you for last lingering a few seconds longer, giving you one last short kiss. 

Everyone began to leave, but you decided to stay, wanting these final moments with him. 

"Harry," you spoke up as he was about to step into the box. 

"Yes, Bel?' The look he gives you is kind and patient, and you know that if you asked him for anything at this moment, he'd do everything in his power to give it to you. 

You wanted to tell him so many things, but there was one thing you knew would capture it all. 

"I'm proud of you." 

Harry stills, and you see his eyes well up with tears, making you feel similar emotions. You don't know what you expected him to do, but stepping away from the box and rushing towards you, kissing you breathless, was not it. 

It's not long. It's short and passionate. The flutter in your stomach was familiar and intense all at once. The love he had poured into the kiss was something you easily felt. 

Time had stood still and did not resume until you pulled away. The smile on your face was genuine and significant, and you felt even giddier when you saw Harry mirrored the same grin. 

"Go, rockstar." 

The energy when you walked out with Glenne was something you'd never get used to. The arena was filled to the brim. Each seat was filled, and the cheers felt never-ending as the intro to 'Golden' began. 

Harry was made to perform, and each night he proved that. He loved being up there and sharing his music with everyone. You have never felt luckier than to experience the final night with him and everyone he loved. 

"Good evening, and welcome to the final night of Love on Tour." Harry cheers into the microphone, getting loud screams. "It's a pleasure to be here. It's a privilege to play for you. Thank you so much for having us. I am honored to be the very first show in this building. So thank you." 

You saw Jeff next to you already getting emotional because this show would be different from the rest because the fact is that come tomorrow, there would be no show to have to get ready for.

After a few songs, Harry did his iconic ass talk. He wanted to make sure the audience was in the right mood. 

"One hand in the air, give it a wiggle." Everyone in the arena copies having no idea where he was going with this. "And give yourself one of those," he pats his ass, getting endless screams and everyone in the arena copying his actions. 

It's these actions that make you laugh the hardest, knowing how much Harry values his own jokes. 

The concert continues with 'Cherry' giving you a wave and wink as he sings about heartbreak. The band only continued to play amazingly, leaving you stunned and sad that this would be the end of seeing them as well. 

'Lights Up' was as emotional as always, Gemma pulling you close to her side to dance with her. Making memories with her was something you were looking forward to doing, especially when visiting her in London next year. Harry is back to addressing the audience when the time comes and reads some signs. 

"Going to a sign I saw earlier." He points in a direction getting closer as he tries to find the person. "It says, can I read it? It says, 'My fiancé hates you, so I came with my sister instead.'" He gasps, stepping back, offended. "Okay, what's his problem? Alright. Sister having a good time? Where have you gone? You know what? Screw him! SCREW HIM!" He shouts into the microphone as he walks across to the other side of the stage. 

Harry laughs at the audience cheering for him as he receives their full support bashing the husband. He takes a moment to address his fans.

"A second to say to all of you that what you have given me on this tour is something I'll never be able to express to you because what you have shared with me every night, emotionally, you have been so generous to me, and I thank you from the bottom of my heart." You can hear the crack in his voice and how overwhelmed he is with emotion. "This is my favorite thing to do because of each and every single one of you. Thank you so so much." Harry walks by Mitch, who pats his back softly, giving him a second of comfort. "Unless you're her husband pointing back to the fan, screw him." 

You laugh, leaning against Glenne, who just shakes her head at Harry's antics.

"Now, fifteen minutes left, all gas, no breaks. Are you ready?" Harry yells, amped up to see everyone on their feet dancing and being free. 

You're out of breath by the time the final song ends, and Harry moves to center stage, guitar in hand, as he begins to play 'Fine Line' for the last time. 

"Before I start, a quick thank you to a couple of people." He clears his throat, looking out into the audience, in your general direction, but knows he can't see you. It's hard when there are so many people around you. 

"First off to my incredible band that is on this stage. It has been a pleasure to play with you all every single night. Thank you." 

Cheers for the band are loud, Jeff and you hollering loudly for them.

"Secondly, there is a large group of people who get here long before and leave long after. You will not see them, but they are there. They've gone above and beyond to make this happen. Make some noise for all the crew backstage." Harry steps away from the microphone to clap for them, knowing that their work allows him to be on the stage he is standing on. 

"I love you." Is heard distantly screamed, and you smirk, knowing what's coming. You weren't planning it, but you want to love him in public too.

"I love you too, sir," Harry replies, laughing.

You bring your hands up to cup around your mouth, hoping it'll be loud enough for him to hear and recognize. You take a deep breath and scream, "I love you." 

Everyone around you turns to look at you, but you keep your eyes on Harry, who, as soon as he hears your voice, turns his head and finds you instantly. His face is soft, with no show of emotion besides a smile. "I love you." He speaks into the microphone softly, and it might not have been heard if the fans didn't settle. 

Harry is quiet only for a second before stepping closer to the microphone, his hands fiddling with the guitar strings. "That was my girlfriend, Bel." 

As soon as the words leave his mouth, the screams are endless. It's the loudest they've been all night, and by the smile on his face, as shown by the large screens, he's damn proud. 

"Did he?" Glenne looks at you, surprised. 

"Why aren't you freaking out?" Jeff asks, looking panicked. "I'm freaking out." 

You shrug. The smile on your face could not be wiped away if they tried, "we talked about it."

"When?" Gemma peeps in, full of curiosity.

"Yeah, please share," Jeff urges. "Last I knew, you both were keeping it top secret."

Last night in bed, when you had gotten back with the girls, Harry woke up and didn't want to go to sleep even when you saw how tired he was. 

"This is it." He mumbles against your chest.

"This is it," you confirm. 

"No more hotel rooms or bus rides." He pouts, knowing you wouldn't be there for his flight home. 

"Just a final plane ride." 

"Right, to London." 

"No, silly. To Minnesota." 

"I know. Wanted to see if you'd let me kidnap you," Harry laughs but quiets down soon after.

You know he's sad because the holidays are coming up, and he isn't sure how that will work. Especially not being able to see you that long. 

You keep your hand in his hair, massaging his head, trying to get him to relax some more, knowing he's close to falling back asleep. 

"There's something I wanted to talk to you about." 

Harry notices the change in your tone and sits up with his chin resting on your stomach, looking at your face. 

"Yeah, what, baby?"

You bring your hand up and trace his lips, a giggle escaping you as he kisses the pad of your finger. 

"How do you feel about making a mini announcement?"

Harry frowns, "what kind?"

"Well," you look away, trying to downplay your following words. "I was thinking that since it is the end, you could announce that we're dating during the show." 

"Oh yeah," he raises his eyebrows, dark eyes locked with yours, "stop halfway through and tell everyone a round of applause for my girlfriend, Y/N Belmonte." Harry teases. 

"Jerk," you pinch his waist. "I'm serious."

"Thought you didn't want to confirm," he reminds you. 

"Selfishly, I want to keep you to myself, but I also want to prove that I'm not ashamed or scared. That I do love you and want to tell everyone I'm your girlfriend."

Harry sits up quickly, pulling you up with him. His hands promptly cradle your face, pressing kisses to every inch of your face until he pulls back breathless.

"Bel, darling, no. You don't have to do this for me." Harry assures you.

"It's not for you. It's for us." You promise him.

He stares into your eyes, trying to find any emotion that might contradict what you're saying, but he finds none. 

Harry lets his grin spread when he realizes you're serious. "If you're sure."

"I am." 

"Then how do we do it, angel."

You tell them the short condensed version that you thought it was the perfect time, both of you having time off and not resurfacing until after the holidays. You told him that he could slip it in, but he wanted a sign from you, and after that, it was up to him.

"You're insane," Jeff tells you but wraps you up in a hug, knowing he and Viola will have lots of work to do. Well, mostly, your publicist but all that could wait.

"Just a bit." 

The screams have not stopped, but Harry tries to keep going, ignoring the chant of your name. Only seems to get louder, and well, now you're a bit overwhelmed.

Harry stops trying and just shakes his head, letting the fans have their moment. "Think screaming her name will get her on stage?" He says in disbelief as the band laughs harder as the chants only get louder. "Well, it won't. If anything, it'll send her running for the hills," he chastises them. "Now, please, please settle down. This is her favorite song."

"You're perfect for each other," Gemma laughs as Harry finally begins to strum his guitar, knowing the show must go on. 

"Glad you think so." You tell Gemma because hearing those words mean the world to you.

"To each and every one of you, thank you very, very much. I don't get to do this if you don't come. If you've been supporting me for one, two, four, seven, or ten years, thank you. After tonight, we're going to go away for a little bit, and we will work on some stuff and come back to see you soon. Take a moment to remember how important these nights are with those you love and those around you. Remember that, and we'll be alright."

And like always, you don't bother fighting it. You allow yourself to get lost in this song about loss and hope. That good will come. You just have to wait it out. 

The show is coming to a close, but as always Harry takes a moment to introduce his band. The band that welcomed you in with open arms that treated you as nothing but a friend. 

Niji Adeleye is someone you could sit around chatting with for hours as he tells you all about his travels. That is always sending you new music to listen to, wanting you to broaden your horizons. The kindness he has shown you could never be repaid only to pass it forward.

Elin Sandberg is a friend, a confident, and the funniest person. Always has a smile on her face. Eager to listen to you tell stories and has the best style off stage. The promise of showing around her hometown is always a reminder, and how you know you'll be staying in touch.

Ny Oh, someone who had long been part of Harry's band but only recently met. Had the most incredible makeup and always a welcoming smile bringing you into conversations, always making you feel included.

Pauli Lovegood is a special person you hope knows their kindness impacted you. That they radiate with this warmth that you just want to be around. Pauli, who became so loved by all the fans on tour, shared his bracelets with you, saying that he wanted to share gifts with those around him.

Mitchell Rowland, the quiet but observant best friend. Meeting Mitch and befriending him was one of the best things to happen because he allows you to see the world from a different perspective. That he's intuitive to everyone around him. That as quiet and reserved he may be, he'd defend you no questions asked. 

Sarah Jones is the best drummer you have ever met. For allowing you to spend time with her and patiently teaching you how to play the drums when you asked. Let you get to know her family, her son, who has a special place in your heart. The wisdom she shared with you about relationships on the road and the tolls it could take, and how important it is to communicate and have interests besides each other. 

Each band member impacted your life in their own unique way, and you don't know how the next tour will be, but you hope they're all along for the ride. 

It's the night's final song, and you're amazed at the show Harry has played. He poured his heart out for them, leaving everything behind on stage. 

'Kiwi' is the perfect ending to the show, and as soon as he starts, so does the dancing until it comes to a sudden stop, making everyone freeze.

"Don't think you understand." Harry shakes his head, curls clinging to his face. "This is the last song," he emphasizes, "of the entire tour. I'm going to need a little bit more. Okay. we're going to try that again." 

Jeff is trying to hold back a grin but is failing. You're just ready, wanting to dance and scream the lyrics to the final song. 

Sarah and the band start again, Harry at the microphone singing when he stops much sooner. "Much better. Much better. Twenty more percent and good to go." He tells them, a smirk on his face.

"God, he's the worst," Gemma jokes. 

"He lives for this," you comment. "I've never seen him freer than when he's up there."

"I have," Gemma gloats. 

"Care to share," Glenne laughs, thinking she might have a similar answer.

"When he's with Bel," Gemma tells you as if it was the most obvious answer. 

It was not. 

You step back, shocked, "no."

"Yes." Jeff agrees. 

"You're right," Glenne adds. "Known that man most of his entire career. He's so free and honest with you." 

"I'm going to cry." You tell them honestly because having the closest people in his life tell you that only made you love them more and glad that Harry has them by his side. 

"Please don't. He might kill us," Jeff jokes.

For the final time, you all shift your attention back to the stage where Harry begins 'Kiwi' finally for the last time. Except he plays it again and again. 

Three times, because he did want the show to end, and you know the fans in the arena and on the live streams didn't want it to either. 

"You're going to have to kill me to get me off here," he shouts into the microphone halfway through the final performance of 'Kiwi.' You knew he'd come running off out of breath but high on adrenaline. 

"Dramatic," Gemma says, tears running down her face, looking at him as a proud sister.

The band plays the final notes, and Harry ends it with the last whale of the tour. The cheers are endless as he begins to bow and blow kisses in every direction. Harry stops at every band member giving them hugs and sharing small words with them. Sarah continues the final notes dragging them out with Mitch on guitar. 

Harry calls the entire band in for a final bow. He holds them tight as they thank the fans. The smile never drops for any of them as they move to the other side of the stage to do the same. He does not hurry to get off the stage as he did every night before. 

Tonight he takes his time, looking up and down, trying to take in every person in the arena. He bows at the edge of the stairs before walking down; just as he is in reach, he spots Jeff first but is stopped by a fan who has two bouquets of gorgeous flowers for him. Harry takes them, holding the fan's hand tightly for a few seconds before walking away. 

He walks straight to Jeff, bringing him in for a tight hug. Moving on to Gemma, who wraps him in a tight hug, trying her best to brush her tears away. Finally, he stops right in front of you. If there weren't thousands of fans watching and recording, he would have kissed you, but he still pulls you into his chest, and you feel him melt in your hold for the slightest second. Harry presses a kiss to your temple, holding eye contact with you for a second, handing you a bouquet of yellow flowers while keeping the other before walking backstage.  

Gemma links arms with you, careful with the flowers you are cradling. She gets close to fans calling both your names right by the barricade. 

"Hi everyone," Gemma greets. You send them a wave, holding on tighter to her arm. "Bye." 

She turns you both around, leading you back to Michal and Glenne, who stayed waiting for you. 

"Kind of you to do that."

Gemma shrugs, "felt a bit awkward." 

"Me too," you laugh, trying to make her feel better.

"How? You live for this." 

You laugh, "not exactly this." You gesture around you. "This isn't my element. It is Harry's." 

"I think you still shine." 

"For him." You confide. 

"Come on, I can hear him complaining now about how long you made him wait." 

"Lead the way."

The adrenaline is gone, the feeling has set, and it's over. Love on Tour has ended. 

Everyone is tired but not ready to call it a night. Since you arrived at the dressing room, Harry has not let you out of his sight. He kept you tucked right by his side, giving you kisses whenever he steals the chance. 

Sarah and Mitch are there sleeping baby sleeping in a bassinet. Not caring about all the ruckus happening around him. Loud music playing and lots of snack munching, not to mention endless amounts of drinks being made, everyone suddenly claiming they were a great bartender putting their skills to the test. 

After mingling with everyone, Harry steals you away, stepping away from his sister and friends, claiming he needs fresh air for a second, but goes toward the direction of the stage. 

"What are we doing?" You ask, holding tight to his hands as he goes up some stairs leading you through sections of the arena, a much higher view than you've gotten. 

"Let's sit."

You hesitate, "sure, this is okay? People are working." 

Harry grins, pulling your hand, wanting you to take the seat next to him. "I knew you'd ask, so yes, I asked for permission, and also, these sections have been cleaned." 

With that answer, you allow him to guide you to the seat next to him, never letting go of his hand. 

He doesn't say a word; instead just tucks you closer to his side, pressing a kiss to the top of your head as he sees his crew working to take down the stage for a final time. Harry had offered his help, but they shrugged him off and told him to go celebrate. 

"So," 

"So."

"What now?"

You're confused about what he's speaking about.

"What do you mean, H?"

Harry squeezes you tight, breathing you in and then out. "How are we going to make this work? You're going to be crazy busy, and I'm going to miss you."

"I'll visit."

"You will?" He asked, surprised although he was hoping you'd say that.

"Course. Why wouldn't I?"

"Europe is far from America." Harry reminds you.

"Good thing I'm not in America."

Now he's really interested. "Where will you be?"

"Australia for the beginning of next year but mostly London hence looking for a place to live."

"Will you really?"

"Yes, plus travel is much easier there." 

"Will sometimes be a train ride away when I'm touring, and you're home." 

"I'll find a way to get to you, H. Never forget that." You promise. 

"Me too, darling. I'll always be a phone call away." 

You lean in and hold him close, cupping his face as you breathe him in, getting lost in his soft lips that taste like the strawberry margarita Mitch made for him. Not your favorite taste, but against his lips, it's the sweetest taste. Harry cuts the kiss short, knowing you were far from eye view but also being respectful. He doesn't pull away, instead leaning his forehead on yours, lips close to touching still if you lean forward and steal a quick peck. The smile grows on his face displaying his beautiful dimples.

"I love you," he breathes against your lips.

"I love you, H." 

"We're going to be fine." He tells you needing to hear it out loud.

"We are." 

Harry closed his eyes, nodding his head. "Good. That's good." 

You settle against each other once again. This time your legs are resting in his lap as you lean your head on your arm, taking him in. 

"How are you spending the holidays? Don't think you've told me." Harry ponders, his hand shifting his rings onto your hand. 

"With Naomi and her family." 

"That should be fun." 

"It will. Are you going home?"

"I am." 

You hum in response.

"Can–can we meet for New Year?" Harry asks, hopeful.

You wince, "about that."

"What now?" He grumbles, causing you to giggle, only for him to look at you confused. 

"See, Naomi and I met a bet back in September when we went to this concert together. Don't ask who you wouldn't know the artist." You tease.

Harry tenses up, knowing very well that you're talking about him, "what was it?"

You shake your head, fiddling with Harry's cross necklace, filled with nerves and excitement to tell him. "Naomi swore you'd recognize me, and I was sure you wouldn't." You shrugged like it was nothing. "I was wrong."

He agrees. 

"She bet on Christmas in London, and I bet on New Year's in Italy. She chose London because she knew I was thinking about making it home." You share, although he knows this already.

"What are you saying, Bel?" His eyes are shining, gleaming with tears. 

"How would you feel about five of us joining you for Christmas?" You beam at him, letting out a nervous laugh. "Naomi's siblings can't make it. They will be spending it with their in-laws since their parents got them for Thanksgiving." 

"All of you?" He asks, stunned. 

"Course, a package deal." You laugh, knowing it's a lot to ask for someone else's family to join you for a holiday, especially as a new couple. Though you know that you and Harry are very different from others. There was an instant connection in St. Paul that has only gotten stronger over the last few months. 

"You'd come to Holmes Chapel." He repeats, wanting to clarify that is what you mean.

"Yes, that is what I'm saying. Got to see where you came from, don't I? Where you got your first kiss, first job, that lake you always talk about." 

"I'd have to ask Mum about the extra company, but you're welcome. Of course, you are. No way she'd say no," he tells you excitedly. 

You try your best to hold back a smile but know you're failing miserably, "you're Mum knows."

"Bel."

"She does." You laugh, "I mentioned it to her in Los Angeles. She was thrilled. The morning before, you took me golfing."

"I-what." He pauses, before frowning, "the day before our fight."

"Yeah," you wince.

"I'm an idiot."

"A bit," you joke.

"You could have told me."

"I thought you'd pick up on me being extra giddy." 

"Always happy with me." He presses a kiss to your temple, and you know he's getting lost in thought. 

"I am sorry about that night."

"I know." You squeeze his knee in assurance. 

"It's just–"

"–H," you try to stop him.

"No, I won't let you down. You're everything Bel, nothing I could have dreamed of. I find it hard to explain how much I love you."

"I love you." 

The easiest words you can say to him to express how you feel. 

Harry looked at you with so much emotion that you thought your heart might stop. His eyes told you everything, how grateful he was to have you, how grateful he didn't have to say goodbye and that he loved you with everything he had. Looking at him soul to soul, you knew nothing would tear you apart from him. 

Time seemed to stop when his lips met yours, the flutters in your stomach ever-present as well as the safety of being loved washed over you. You focused on how in sync you moved together, how perfect this kiss was, wrapping up all you couldn't say and expressing it, knowing that you both got the message. 

You pull back, breathless, smiling at Harry as he thumbs at your plumb bottom lip from all the kissing. 

 "Surprised you didn't I." 

You look pleased as you tell him, just taking him in. How radiant he looks, his cheeks pink and eyes gleaming with joy.

"You did," Harry admits. "Can stay with me. I have lots of space."

"Good, I was worried I couldn't afford a hotel," you quip.

"Bel, "he deadpans.

"Kidding."

Harry rolls his eyes playfully. 

"Another favor I have to ask you."

"What?"

"Go house hunting with me, there's a few I have to see but need a good opinion, and you've got a mansion or whatever, so you have a good eye." You can't hold back the excitement, practically bouncing in your seat. 

"Could always—"

"Don't even finish that."

"Too soon."

"A bit."

"That's fine."

"So you're coming home with me."

"I am."

"Best news ever." He says, beginning to shower you in kisses all over your face, and you let him loving the feel of his lips against your skin. He whispers sweet nothings after each kiss, expressing how excited he is. How he can't wait to show you off to his entire family.

But most importantly, to have you for a long time.

To have each other, forever.

"I love you."

“ I love you, mi estrella.”

You honestly had no idea what the new year would bring you but knew you'd do anything to make it work with Harry by your side.

Love on Tour had brought you exactly that, love. 

If you've made it to the end here I just want to thank you. thank you for taking the time to read my story, whether you were here from the first time I posted in September to now months later posting the last part in April. I never saw myself writing a series, nevertheless this long. It was all thanks to you for your support, all your reblogs, comments, and sweet messages that kept me going. I appreciated every single message more than you can know. I love you and I love how you loved this story. I am so proud of the story I've written and now it is for you to read and share. Thank you from the bottom of my heart and I hope you continue to support my writing. I love you.

taglist: @alienorknight @harry-is-my-sunflower @myfavfanficsever @springholland @michellekstyles @harryismyfwend @japanchrry @onlyamylee @golden-hoax @itsmycorneroftheinternet @harryspirate @tenaciousperfectionunknown @thurhomish @thelovecayon @shawnieeboyy @dontworrysunflower

[whore4gwen]

Re8 Women dating HCs

Contains: Lady Dimitrescu, Donna Benevento, & Mother Miranda

WLW

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Tags: Light talks of manipulation, narcissism, and sadism, mental health issues, fluff, angst if you squint hard enough, possessiveness, slightly unhinged behavior, MY personal head cannons, very slight suggestiveness, Mirandas fucking God complex, isolation, religious elements, cuddling, poor perception of love, & tax evasion.

A/N: Im working on sm things rn it’s not even funny. Despite that, I desperately wanted to post something, so here’s some of my hc. No these are not all my hcs, these are just some of the REALISTIC ones I have. These are based on my own personal perception of these fictional characters. You are welcome to disagree with anything I write, but you’re not welcome to harass me about it. Please keep negativity to yourselfs. Anyways, please enjoy!

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Alcina:

-It’s not that Lady Dimitrescu is incapable of loving another, I just think it’s the way she would love.

-Carnal, possessive, dangerous, a little crazed even. Nothing about the lady’s love is sensual or soft. She’s powerful, domineering, and boy does she relish in it. Of course she’s aware of all the things she could do, all the things you’d let her do. So willing, so compliant, so easy to control.

-Alcina is a narcissist through and through. You will bend to her will, to her every need. You’re hers, after all. (We still love you thou)

-I feel like her love is very incessant, very smothering for lack of better words. She’s not exactly clingy, but she needs you around, she needs to feel your presence.

-Always, and I mean always watching you. Nothing you do will go past her. She needs to know exactly where you are and what you’re doing at all times.

-A bit emotionally manipulative. Of course she doesn’t see it that way, she just wants everything to go her way. What’s so wrong with that?

-I think for the most part she’s a little self aware about her flaws and what not, but I wouldn’t say this with 100% certainty. A big part of her doesn’t really see a problem with the way she is. It’s absolutely normal.

-But to be fair, it’s not like anyone would call her out.. so🤷🏻‍♀️

-Pet names pet names pet names. Alcina absolutely adores them. She only really uses your names unless she’s really pissed. In that case, run.

Donna:

-Shy. So incredibly so that you don’t hear her voice till weeks after working for her. And the way your jaw fell to the ground when you heard it had Angie belly laughing on the ground. If it wasn’t for her, you thought maybe you were hearing things.

-Forgets to eat often. She gets so preoccupied with her dolls, she doesn’t always take the best care of herself. So make sure you remind her to eat:(

-It’ll take AGES to get Donna there, but when you do, she is nothing short of the wait. Very passionate, and a little unhinged.

-Like Alcina, she’s a bit possessive.

-She finally found someone she was comfortable with showing her scare, you’re not going anywhere. You belong to her and that’s final. You’re literally stuck, so get comfortable.

-Values your opinion over everything. Her cooking, her sewing skills, her Garden. Donna swoons at praise. A light pink dusting her cheeks any time you compliment her, no matter how minor.

-Poor Donna has been alone for quite some time now. Touch starved as well as touch repulsed. Have fun with that :)

- Canonically, Donna has really bad mental health issues, which causes her to lash out and make rash decisions. She’s not abusive by any means, just a lot to handle.

-She gets into her own head a lot. Constantly convincing herself none of this is real. That one day she’ll wake up and you’ll be gone.

-I know she has manic episodes. Cannot convince me otherwise. Before you, they were almost unmanageable. Your first experience dealing with Donna during one terrified you. You were so worried about Donna, you had no idea what was happening.

-You tried desperately to comfort her. Unfortunately the voices were stronger than your weak attempts.

-After a while, she finally calmed down and explained that catastrophe as best as she could without scaring you off.

-At first Donna didn’t really understand the purpose of cuddling. It’s not that she didn’t want to, she was just truly confused. After having the significance of cuddling explained to her, she fell in love with it.

-Unironically, she’s the big spoon. She loves holding you, making sure you’re safe in her arms. Now, it’s the only way she can fall asleep.

Miranda:

-This bitch is so crazy.

-All shits and giggles aside, this woman is absolutely sadistic.

-Mind games are inevitable. Especially if she’s truly in love with you, in her dark and twisted way.

-Possessive asf.

-Did I already say possessive?

-Miranda is definitely stingy and will isolate you from your friends/family. Why do you need them when you have her? She’s your Goddess, she’s all you need. Never mind everyone else.

-Definitely the type to tell you to take a nap if you ever say you’re tired of her shit.

-You’re not going anywhere. Nice try, but no.

-I know this is obvious, but her God complex is really top tier. I mean seriously.

-Absolutely loves being worshipped, and not just in the bedroom, if you know what I mean. She wants to be put first, she wants to be your number one priority, your Goddess, your everything.

-She will find a way to incorporate her status & power in everything she does.

-She loves you, but you must always remember your place, under her. Figuratively and literally.

-Despite her cut off personality, she’s definitely a cuddlier. Especially after a long day of failed experiments and aggravating meetings.

-Like Donna, Miranda has been alone for almost a century. She’s so damn touch starved yet also incredibly touch repulsed at the same time. Have fun coping.

-Of course she threatened you if you ever told anyone thou. I mean can you imagine THE Mother Miranda being spooned? Imagine what the public would say.

-Fucking tax evader.

-After she gets Eva back, successfully, she lessens up, but only a bit. Like Alcina, she is the way she is and she doesn’t really see the problem with it.

I want all three of them so badly.

[aemondsbabe]

Making Amends

summary: a fancy party & praising || you finally see why michael hates going home for the holidays and treat him the way he deserves

pairing: michael gavey x f!reader

warnings: mature/explicit, 18+ (minors dni!), no use of y/n, afab reader, breast/nipple play, heavy praise, riding, brief cockwarming, cursing, brief mention of daddy kink but it’s not used, dirty talk, angy michael (not at reader), angst but happy ending, parents being stupid, choking, let me know if i missed anything!

word count: 3.4k

a/n: happy day twelve of 12 days of smuff!!! we did it!!! a very merry christmas to all those who celebrate; i hope your holidays are full of love and fun! I hope y’all enjoy this one & i look forward to writing many more stories in the new year!

TAUNT | Part 1

PRAISE | Taunt Part 2

this one can be read as a continuation of taunt & praise or as a stand alone!!

12 days of smuff masterlist!

likes, comments, & reblogs are very appreciated but never required!

🌟add yourself to my taglist to be notified when i post new fics!

“Ohh, Michael!” An older woman croons, making you and your boyfriend turn your heads at the same time, “How lovely to see you!” 

“Nice to see you too, Aunt Janet.” Michael says, his voice monotone, and gives the woman an awkward half-hug. You give him a sympathetic grin when he rolls his eyes at you over her shoulder.

“And who is this?” She asks, turning to look you up and down with a smile.

“She’s my girlfriend,” Michael explains, taking a second to introduce the two of you, “We met at uni.” 

“Nice to meet you.” You smile politely and shake her hand. 

“How wonderful!” She turns to you and puts a hand on your forearm before leaning in slightly with a grin, “We were beginning to give up on this one ever finding someone to put up with him!” She grins, giggling like it’s the funniest joke in the world. 

You merely awkwardly chuckle, though it only takes one glance at Michael to know he’s fuming. You can’t really blame him, this is how it’s been all evening, ever since you’d arrived at his parents house. Michael had tried to talk you out of accompanying him to their annual Christmas party, claiming that hell would be a lesser punishment, but you’d insisted, saying it couldn’t be that bad. 

When you’d first pulled up to the Gavey’s home, you’d been excited! They’d gone all out with the decorations, though Michael claimed they usually did, but that didn’t stop you from marveling at all the garland, lights, and wreaths that adorned every inch of the house. And since this year’s party was apparently more formal than usual, that just gave you the chance to ogle at your boyfriend in a tux, which was an automatic win in your book.

And yet, here you are, listening to yet another joke at Michael’s expense and hating every second of it. It seemed like every relative and family friend had one in store, if it wasn’t about finally finding someone to put up with him, it was about what he must’ve done to bribe you into it, or that he must be paying you to be here. Not to mention the backhanded compliments; you’d grown so tired of hearing remarks about how they’re so happy that Michael had finally found someone or, “Oh, finally! Took him long enough!” 

“Old fucking bat,” Michael mutters under his breath as Aunt Janet totters off, “Knew we shouldn’t have come.” He grumbles, pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose.

“M’sorry, babe,” you sigh, giving him a small half smile as you place a comforting hand on his leg, “I don’t understand why they can’t simply be nice.

He scoffs next to you, rolling his eyes with a sardonic smile, “Wouldn’t be a real Gavey Christmas without snide comments, fucking losers.” 

The evening continues in the same fashion and suddenly you understand why Michael has always been so defensive and eager to prove himself, you would be too in a family like this. 

You can tell your boyfriend is operating on a very short fuse and offer him a placating smile every time you notice him clenching his jaw or notice his breathing pick up, chest heaving under his black suit jacket. 

However, it’s finally a comment his father makes during dinner that sets him off. You’ve hardly started eating when it happens, with everyone sitting around the Gavey’s impressively large dining room table passing various dishes back and forth. 

“So,” Mrs. Gavey started, giving Michael a pointed look as she refilled her glass of wine, “How were your marks this term?” 

You glance down in time to see your boyfriend white knuckle his fork and quickly stroke a hand over his knee, which seems to help lessen his tension somewhat, thankfully. 

“Distinctions,” he answers dryly, keeping his eyes fixed on the table, “Obviously.” 

His mom simply nods, not offering any praise or even a generic, “Well done,” much to your surprise. 

And a few seconds later, everything blows up. 

“How’s that friend of yours doing?” Mr. Gavey butts in, setting his steak knife down as he speaks, “What was his name? Owen… Oscar, maybe?” 

“Oliver.” Michael corrects him, so quickly and quietly that you’re surprised his dad even catches it. 

“Oliver! Of course, and how’s he doing? Hm? You haven’t mentioned him in some time.” 

There’s a beat of silence in which you fight the urge to kick Mr. Gavey under the table, knowing exactly where this would go. 

“We don’t… talk anymore. I haven’t seen him for ages.” He grits out; his leg tenses up under your palm once again when his mother lets out a disappointed sigh, as if she were getting ready to scold a small child. 

“Michael, honestly,” she starts with a small shake of her head, “It’s not good for you to be so socially isolated all the time.” 

“I’m fine.”

“What about that other boy you used to go around with, hm?” His mom continues on, seemingly oblivious to his foul mood, “The one you were so close to in primary school, oh, he was lovely.” 

“Felix, wasn’t it?” Mr. Gavey quips, “Whatever happened to him? I always thought he had such a good head on his shoulders.” 

“He’s a cunt.” Your boyfriend seethes lowly, all but vibrating with rage as he spits each word out. 

“What was that, dear?” His mom asks, none the wiser. 

“He’s a cunt!” Michael exclaims, his fork clattering across the table as he tosses it down, scraping his chair back across the floor. 

“Michael!” Mrs. Gavey chides, a horrified look on her normally placid face as she, quite literally, clutches at her pearls. 

“If you’ll fucking excuse me.” Michael mutters, tossing his cloth napkin down onto the table with a dull thud before retreating from the table with a growl. 

The silence that follows is deafening as everyone stays frozen at the table for a moment; you have to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing at the shell shocked expression on his grandmother’s face. 

After a beat, Mr. and Mrs. Gavey begin falling all over themselves to apologize, awkwardly laughing as they make excuses for Michael, as if their bullying hadn’t made him snap. 

“I’m gonna go check on him,” you say after a moment, giving polite smiles to his parents as you stand from the table, “Just to make sure he’s okay.” 

“Of course, dear,” his mother nods sagely, ever the beacon of motherly wisdom, “We know how sensitive little Michael is.” 

As soon as your back is turned you roll your eyes, nose wrinkling in disgust. Little Michael? What the fuck? 

It only takes you a minute to locate him upstairs as you quickly spot the door to his childhood bedroom tightly closed. You smile sadly as you walk over to it, you pause for a moment before knocking softly. 

“Michael?” You call, pressing an ear against the door, “You in there?” Your brows furrow when you hear a small sniffle from the other side of the door and your hand automatically goes to the doorknob, a sigh of relief leaving you when it easily turns. 

Your heart breaks when you push the door open and peek inside, quickly spotting Michael on his bed, head in his hands, shoulders shaking. 

“Oh,” you breathe, hastily closing the door as you let yourself into his room, “Michael.” You sigh, sitting beside him on his small twin bed and slinging an arm around his shoulders. 

“M’fine…” He says softly, dejectedly. 

“You are not,” you pull him to you, rubbing a hand over his bicep as you hold him closely, “No one would expect you to be, not after all that.” 

He merely nods and tucks his head into your neck, sniffling sadly as his blond hair tickles your chin, one arm wraps around you while he busies himself with plucking lightly at the hem of your dress, running his finger over the smooth satin seam. 

“You wanna talk about it?” You ask softly, pressing a sweet kiss to the crown of his head. 

“Not tonight,” his voice is muffled slightly against your collarbone as he speaks, “Please.” 

You nod, opting to stay quiet and simply hold him for the time being. 

You don’t know how much time passes but eventually, he seems to calm down, at least his shoulders stop trembling and he stops rubbing at his eyes and sniffling. 

Finally, once his breathing has evened out, you decide to speak up. 

“They don’t deserve you.” You murmur, pulling back just enough to meet his gaze, your heart twisting when you see his beautiful blue eyes rimmed with red. 

“Love…” He sighs, ready to fight you on it. 

“That’s all I wanted to say,” you assure him quickly, “They don’t.” 

You hold his face in your hands gently, studying him with a soft smile. He really did look delectable in his suit, so smartly put together and polished. 

Michael must be feeling the same way, no doubt riding the small high that usually came after a solid rush of emotion. His eyes darken as he looks back at you, Adam’s apple bobbing enticingly in his throat as he swallows thickly. 

You don’t know who moves first, unable to find it within yourself to care as his warm lips slot perfectly against your own. 

A relieved groan sounds from his chest and his hands immediately come up to cup your waist, his thumbs rubbing appreciatively over the soft material of your dress as you shiver, already getting lost in his touch. 

“Mikey,” you murmur, biting into your lower lip as he kisses down across your jaw, his hands scrambling to pull you into his lap, “S-Should we?” Your voice trembles as he gently sucks at the sensitive spot on your neck, drawing your mind further and further from the party taking place downstairs. 

“Need you,” he rasps, unable to stop himself from smirking as you keen against him when he skirts his hands up your form to cup your breasts through your dress, your nipples already hard and wanting against the satin, “Just – I need you, love.”

He’s so desperate, you couldn’t say no and finally decide to throw caution to the wind. You smile triumphantly as you run your hands over his trim waist, tucking them under his jacket to get closer to him, savoring the feel of his warm skin even through the thin material of his button down. 

Finally, you push the suit jacket off his shoulders and, needing to feel him against you, waste no time hastily undoing the buttons on his shirt, yanking it out from under his trousers and belt before quickly dropping both to the floor. 

Apparently just as impatient, Michael chooses to simply push the thin straps of your dress off of your shoulders and growls deeply when your dress falls down your chest, exposing your breasts to his hungry gaze. Without missing a beat, he pulls you closer to him, groaning as your core presses tightly against his still-clothed erection. As soon as your chest is level with his face, he mouths at the underside of your breast, cupping the other in his hand. He peers up at you through his glasses, already fogging up against his cheeks, as he wraps his pink lips around your nipple and gingerly sucks it into his mouth, groaning against your supple skin at the breathy moan you let out. 

You hold his head against your chest, fingers gripping tightly at his short hair as your head tilts back, small whimpers and whines escaping past your lips as you try your best to stay quiet. Your hips seem to move of their own accord, rocking against him as he worships your breasts. 

“Michael,” you whimper, your core clenching tightly when you look down and take in his flushed face. You press your lips against his again, frantically kissing him as your tongue invades his mouth, “What do you want?”

“You.” His reply is automatic, his hands kneading greedily at your tits as he stares up at you, bare chest already heaving. 

You can’t help but chuckle a little, pride blooming in your chest at the fact that he’s already this strung out. Nevertheless, you give a quick shake of your head, smirking when he whines impatiently. 

“How do you want me, Mikey?” 

The desperate look behind his eyes softens instantly, his pink lips parting enough to reveal the tiniest sliver of his front teeth. Somehow, he blushes more and just barely shakes his head at you, swallowing thickly like he always does when he’s flustered. 

“Can you be on top?” He asks quietly, blue eyes flitting between yours behind his gold-rimmed glasses, “I just – I don’t have it in me to be daddy tonight, love.” He confesses quickly.

You chuckle again, always impressed with him when he shows his more vulnerable side, and instantly you nod, cupping his soft cheeks again. 

“Of course I can do that,” you keep your voice soft, even the small kiss you give him is soft, “Lay back for me, yeah? I don’t wanna wait.”

  Nodding eagerly, he doesn’t waste time and leans back on the narrow bed, helping you climb atop him as he does. He groans appreciatively as you settle on his hips, licking his lips as he stares up at you. He watches as your breasts heave with every breath while his hands trace down over your hips to cup your ass. 

“You’re so beautiful, love,” he murmurs, tugging your dress up over your bum before kneading the supple flesh, watching intently as you whimper above him, “So soft and pretty and fuck– fucking perfect.” He finishes with a growl, blue eyes rolling back when you rock down against him. 

Heat courses through your veins at his words and you hurry to undo his belt, the metal buckle tinkling softly in the quiet of his bedroom as you push it to the side, too frantic to bother to pull it off him entirely. Your fingers quickly find the button of his trousers and you all but yank them open the second you have the zipper undone, sighing happily as his hard cock bobs against his stomach, the head already flushed and steadily leaking. 

“Jesus Christ,” he groans, his back arching a little with the relief of his erection finally being freed, “Y’gonna ride me, princess?”

“Mhm,” you nod with a smirk, wiggling on his lap as you situate yourself perfectly above his length, “You deserve to be taken care of, Michael.” You coo softly, bending forward a little to pull your lacy underwear to the side, not having the patience to properly remove them.

Your comment seems to have gone to your boyfriend’s head and you smirk when you feel his cock jump up, twitching against your center as a soft groan leaves him. You bite your lip when you grab his length, loving how warm it felt in your hand. Carefully, you position him at your dripping center and slot the head against your entrance. 

Both of you moan in unison as you sink down slowly, his thick length filling you completely as your hips finally press against his. 

“Goddammit,” he curses, roughly grabbing your ass as he squeezes his eyes shut, trying to keep himself anchored even though he knows in the back of his mind it’s useless with how tightly you’re gripping him, “You feel so fucking good, pretty girl, fucking love this sweet little cunt.” 

His praises go straight to your core and you clench around him, somehow tighter, making him grunt underneath you. Bracing your hands on his shoulders, you start moving your hips over him, using your thighs to push off of his lap before sinking back down, whining when you feel the head of his cock press perfectly against that delicious little spot inside you.

“You’re so good, Mikey, fuck,” you pant, fighting to keep your eyes open to savor each expression that crosses his flushed face, “Y-You feel so perfect, holy shit, everything about you is perfect.”

He groans deeply, lower lip trembling as he stares up at you in awe, brows furrowed as he takes in every inch of you. Blue eyes trace slowly over your form, lingering on your face before looking over your breasts. He swallows thickly as he pauses to watch them bounce tantalizingly, matching every one of your thrusts against him. Eventually, he looks down and moans softly, watching your slick pussy move over his length. 

“Yeah, princess?” He encourages, making you smile softly as you realize how badly he needs this, how badly he needs to be told how good he is. 

“Y-Yeah, shit,” you whimper, head spinning when he leans up to lick over one of your nipples, gently suckling at the bud as you continue, “You’re the best, Michael, fuck – best boyfriend, you’re so smart and s-so precious and f-funny and – and God!”

You practically squeal when his thumb comes down to rub at your clit, your eyes crossing at the sudden jolt of pleasure that washes over you. 

“I love you, holy fuck,” you huff, thighs burning as you move somehow quicker over him, “I love you, I love – oh, shit – everything about you.” Your voice is hoarse as you breathe through soft pants, practically squirming on top of him as your head spins every time he circles his thumb over you. 

“I love you too, princess,” he hums, pulling you down for a quick, desperate kiss, “You’re so damn good to me.”

“You deserve it,” you say quickly, swallowing as you pant above him, your heart hammering wildly in your chest, “You deserve everything, Michael, you’re so, so good.” 

He growls at that, lips parting as he watches you. He keeps circling a thumb over your clit but fans the rest of his fingers out, holding your hip more securely. You hardly have time to think before you squeak in surprise, gasping as he begins rutting his hips up into you, the tip of his cock hitting your sensitive spot at a dizzying speed. 

“O-Oh, shit!” You huff, eyes wide and wild, “Michael, Mikey, I –” You cut yourself off with a loud cry, too loud given the circumstances, but your brain whites out the second he reaches up and wraps a hand around your throat, not tightly enough to choke you but enough to hold you steady above him. 

“Y’close, love?” He pants, smirking when you quickly nod, “Fucking cum with me, princess, shit, you fucking deserve it.” He hisses through clenched teeth.

All you can do is obey, your fingernails digging harshly into his shoulders as your high finally washes over you. You freeze, tensing up above him as you cry out, uncaring for the party below as your cunt clenches tightly around his length, rhythmically milking him. 

“Shit, shit, fuck,” he grunts beneath you, eyes rolling back as he feels your walls contracting around his cock, drawing his own high from him as well, “Good girl, good girl.” He praises before finally cumming with a snarl. You whimper when you feel him twitch inside you, coating your walls with his thick spend. 

The two of you lay panting for a while, neither of you wanting to get up or break the spell of the safe little bubble you seem to be stuck in as you lazily press kisses against whatever bits of skin you can reach. 

Eventually, the sound of holiday music seems to float up to you from downstairs, along with the sounds of laughter and loud conversation. In the background, you can just barely make out the sound of wrapping paper tearing and taped boxes being pulled open. 

“Sounds like it’s time for gifts,” you muse, tracing shapes on Michael’s chest as he holds you to him, softening length still buried within you, “You wanna join them again?”

He hums softly and shakes his head no with a small smile before tilting his head to look at you, his glasses sitting slightly crooked on his nose as he studies your flushed face. One hand rubs soothingly over your back as he holds you tightly to him, relishing the way your soft skin feels against him.

“Don’t need any gifts from those entitled idiots,” he laughs softly and leans down just enough to press a soft, sweet kiss to your forehead, “I have the most perfect gift right here with me already.”

tagged lovelies: @helloworldiamnotarobot @drakonflames @marysucks-blog @watercolorskyy @valeskafics @iamaegontargaryenwife0 @aemshaircare @1997babyyyy @lovellies @little-moonbeam-666 @blackswxnn @alerisc @fan-goddess @wickedfrsgrl @moonriseoverkyoto @echos-muses @schniiipsel @avidreader73 @marvelescvpe @imawhorecrux @grsveeth0m @rae-11 @ms-morningstaarr @chaotic-fangirl-blog @wolfdressedinlace @cl-0-vr @kittendoll05 @beautbuck @eponaartemisa @trshngyn @brettlovessuckingcocks @alerisc

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[suhkusa]

EGOIST 14.

PAIRING. Atsumu Miya x f!Reader

CW. plot, angst, sleeping around, atsumu's shenanigans

A/N. beep

-> MASTERLIST.

Atsumu might like you. 

He probably does, but it feels weird and foreign coming out of his mouth, let alone being a thought in his mind.

Never would he have thought he’d have feelings for the likes of you. Romantic, at that.

You were annoying and pesky and there was a point in time  where he’d hate being in a room with you. But somehow you made all of those nasty wants fade away. 

He thought that it’d be easy being so fucked up towards you and steering away from your presence. But then you did avoid him. So he thought finally apologizing to you and not being a dick to you would finally free him. But again, it didn’t.

All of these weak attempts of getting away from you and these thoughts of you were pointless if at the end of the day, you’d still live in his head.

And you don’t even know what you do to him. You make him want to be a good person, to not sleep around with all these women. To tip his drivers. It’s gross and not like him at all. Every word he says to you doesn’t feel like him because every word is full of genuinity and kindness. And it’s scary.

Maybe that’s why he finds himself here. With Angie. 

To try and get rid of the thoughts of you.

He’s naked beside her own naked body, as she rests her head on his biceps. 

“I don’t know why you’re so caught up on her? Didn’t you bully the poor girl?”

“Mm, yeah, like in high school,”

She rolls her eyes before moving a delicate hand onto his chest. 

“C’mon, why don’t we just make it official? I’m tired of hearing about her. That’s all you text me about nowadays,” she looks up at him as she pouts. 

Hell no. 

“Maybe in another life, sweetheart,” he smiles weakly, beginning to slip out of the bed, “Anyways, I have to go to practice, got the playoffs tomorrow.” 

“Aw no, stay a bit,” Angie gives him her weak attempt at puppy eyes. 

“You know I can’t,” he tugs on his last article of clothing before continuing, “And Angie?”

“Hm?” 

“Lose my number,”

———

It’s a shame he had to break it off with her, she was one of his favorites. Not only that, he’s known her the longest. But sometimes things like that are for the better. 

“Hey Atsumu,” your voice calls as he walks in. 

It catches him off guard, but he returns the greeting, “Oh hey,”

He continues to the court, throwing his back down before beginning to hit his stretches. Atsumu watches as you speak to the coach, rambling about something oh so important on your clipboard.

His eyes wander up and down your figure. Part of him wonders what would’ve happened if you two didn’t stop the other night. Would you have given all of you to him?

Atsumu’s gaze follows you as you make your way to Hinata. Laughing and smiling, nodding your head before moving to the next player. Then the next, then to him. He doesn’t realize you’re in front of him until you actually say something.

“I just wanted to check in to make sure you had everything ready for the playoffs, clean uniform, any kneepads?” you asked, clicking your pen.

“Ah, yeah,” he replies, “if anything I just need a new towel I think,”

He watches as you write something down, “Alright, let me know if you need anything else,” you give him a brief smile before moving onto Sakusa.

The way the smile on your face instantly brightens at the sight of Sakusa ticks him off. But there’s not much he could do, not right now at least. 

With a clap of Foster’s hands, all the men get up from their spots and make their way towards him, commencing the final practice before playoffs.

———

Even though you weren’t doing anything physically, you felt nearly as exhausted as the boys were and you instantly fell asleep when you got home. 

And thank god that you did, if you were to sleep any later you might’ve just missed your last alarm. You’re nervous while you get ready. So nervous you can’t even eat breakfast, going for a yogurt drink in its place. You can feel your leg shake with anxiety as it holds on the brake at a stoplight.

After parking your car, you meet up with the guys as you all wait to board the bus. You can tell they’re just as anxious, if not more. Even if this is not their first playoff game, it still means so much and more to their career and for them.

You board the bus, setting your stuff down in the empty seat next to you. Taking your place at the window seat, you immediately open your phone and scroll through your socials. You post an Instagram story to the Jackal’s account as they all board. 

After clicking send, you put your phone down. Time to finally catch up on sleep.

“Y/N,” or not.

“Can I sit here?” 

When you look up you’re met with a man with a messy blonde mop of hair, smiling down at you.

“There’s like, 15 other seats you can choose from and not have a seating partner,” you reply.

“Yeah, I know. Just want to sit here, though,” he fake pouts.

You groan, “Fine,” you begrudgingly grab your bag and tuck it underneath your chair. 

You squish your jacket between your head and window to create a makeshift pillow. You can feel his eyes on you, but ignore and let slumber take you under.

———

You don’t know that you have arrived until you are awoken by a rough hand patting your shoulder.

“C’mon,” Atsumu pushes, “we’re here,”

Holding yourself back from snapping at him, you grouchily gather your things and follow him out the bus. 

You catch up to Foster and give him the itinerary for the day. The two of you discuss the day’s events as the rest of the guys follow behind you. The lot of you locate your spot in the practice gym before settling down. 

You find a little corner to sit in and open your laptop up to review some of the latest matches of today’s opponents, EJP Raijins.

As you scratch notes onto your paper, you listen to the ambience of the guys practicing. The calling for the ball, the sound of skin hitting the ball back onto the ground. 

When you’re in your zone, time flies insanely quickly. It’s scary, because you’re scared for the match. Plus it’s broadcasted on national television, and while you’re not the center of the attention, it’s still nerve wracking to think about.

After finishing what you’re able to, you hand the paper over to the coach, which he then quickly turns to the guys and informs them on the rival team’s techniques. You watch them and help guide them through new techniques and tactics they can use to counterattack. 

They go back onto the practice court and try to practice said attacks. It’s talent, how easily these men can adapt to a situation.

You gnaw on the inside of your mouth as you watch the ball go from one side of the court to the other in a matter of seconds. 

Before you know it, it’s time to go. The guys are changing into their clean uniform, fixing their appearances as camera guys begin to trickle in for any post-game interviews. 

And then it’s go time, and you follow the rest of the guys as they find their way to the main stadium.

All the guys look confident, especially so with all the cameras on them. You put on your best “confident” face as well as you walk beside them.

As you find your spot at the Jackal’s side of the court, you join the team as they huddle up one last time. Coach Foster’s voice is loud and proud as he reminds the guys of what they have been practicing. You smile before giving them a sappy, “you got this!”

The men are excused, and you’re about to head for your seat when you hear his voice.

“Y/N,” he starts, causing you to look up at him, “if we win, you have to go on a date with me,”

© all writings belongs to suhkusa 2024. do not repost or change.

[bookworm-with-coffee]

Insecurities. . .

(Kili x Reader)

(A/N); Hello and welcome, readers!! As always, thank you for stopping by!! I thought it was high time to write a fic for Kili! After all, who can resist that cheeky smile of his?? Do enjoy! ❤

Plot; Comfort drabble

Pairings; Kili x Reader (Romantic)

Warnings; fluffity-fluff and some angy-angst

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The evening was cheerful, the Company of Thorin Oakenshield having stopped for the night after a long day's travels. Peaceful ambience of the forest began to increase in the nightfall, the breeze light and cool as it swayed through the rustling trees.

Firelight filled the camp with a warm flickering glow, the smell of woodsmoke and Bombur's cooking potent in the air. Conversation was easy to find and delightful, as always. Bofur, Dwalin, Nori and a few of the others were sat together, conversing in what sounded like their native tongue. The intricacies and mysteries of Khuzdul still left you amazed, despite how it was only merriful banter.

You had stood by Bombur, offering to take Bofur's place tonight as the food-server. Each bowl of soup was steaming hot, your steps having to be quick to avoid burning yourself too badly from the scalding liquid as it dripped from the bowl. Each Dwarf had eagerly taken the food that was offered, exhaustion fueling their hunger. Even Bilbo and Gandalf seemed relieved to finally be eating this evening. The days were long and draining, trudging through the wilderness in the everchanging landscape. You too found relief in finally dropping down beside the youngest of the two Princes once your rounds were finished.

Fili, who usually kept him company of a nighttime, was occupied in the audacious conversations nearby. The booming laughter that rang out almost startled you whilst you settled in alongside Kili, him offering the occasional soft chuckle at the words being thrown between bites of his food.

Darting to you, the Prince's hazel eyes glistened with the embers of the campfire. A soft smile of amusement crossed his face, the action always seeming to offer you comfort. "What are they on about now?", you quirked a brow, his expression becoming contagious.

"By this point in the conversation, I don't think you want to know".

"Enlighten me", you encouraged, laughter slipping from the Princeling's lips. It was hard for Kili to restrain his smile when he finally obliged.

"They're taking bets on whether or not Bofur uses his hat in the bedroom".

"Pigs", you huffed, a moment's silence passing before you added, "He clearly does". The Prince snorted, his soup suddenly travelling through his nostrils. Something akin to a guffaw escaped his lips, whilst he desperately tried to grapple his composure in your now shared laughter.

"Agreed", he managed to wheeze out, wiping at his face and mouth.

In moments like this, you appreciated the bond that had formed between you both. Despite the seriousness of the quest at hand, you always found yourself at ease within Kili's easygoing nature and cheeky humour. He always had a way of soothing your anxieties with his jokes and lighthearted conversations, always looking on the brighter side of things. And although he was oblivious to such things, you'd come to find him to be quite beautiful.

It was hard not to when the light of the fire danced over his features, illuminating the strands of hair that fell effortlessly over his face. You'd come to admire those wavy tresses with their now auburn glow, sitting over his strong and broad shoulders. You wondered how he cared for them, keeping them so clean despite the lack of hygiene this quest entailed.

With his head turned and gaze fixed on the forest ahead, you found that his messed half-up had lost a few strands that dangled, masking the Prince's handsome face from your current view. His metal clasp was now sitting loosely on the back of his head. And although it offered him a fitting style, you wished to fix it for him.

Dinner became suddenly forgotten in your new endeavours when you decided to test the waters with Kili. Reaching for the strand that had fallen loose over his face, your fingertips worked the silken strands behind his ear with a delicate precision. The Prince almost seemed to stiffen at your touch, his breaths halting whilst goosebumps ignited across his skin. His lips had parted, lashes fluttering. No woman had ever touched him like that before. And although there was nothing sensual about your touch, it made every part of him light up like fire, craving more of that soothing gentleness.

Sensing his quiet, you became hesitant to continue. "May I fix your hair for you?". Your question had his hazel orbs clouding in confusion, scanning your face for any sign that you may have been jesting. He nodded shyly, his voice seeming to waver slightly,

"Please". That being all the confirmation you needed, you pulled the large clasp from his hair, the thick layers falling loose. Excitement bubbled in your chest whilst you shuffled closer to the handsome Dwarf.

Steadying his breaths, he resisted the shudder that passed through him when your fingers began working through his hair like a gentle comb. You began to remove the small tangles, relishing in the soft touch of his hair. The moisture in the strands was not greasy or dirty in nature and his waves bounced back, unaffected by your touches. The Prince's eyes had fallen closed, his dinner being long abandoned in his blissful state. The sensation of your nails brushing over his scalp had him drawing his bottom lip between his teeth to fight the pleasurable sighs that dared to leave his throat.

The boisterous conversations that once ensnared his attention had faded from his ears. He was barely able to register your voice when you spoke so gently to him. "Your hair is so beautiful", you marveled, spindling his soft hair between your fingers playfully. "How do you keep it so soft and lovely?". The young Prince felt his throat tightening from shock, pondering what your interest was in his hair. In his opinion, there was nothing special about his tresses.

Kili gathered no attention from women, unlike his fellow kin. His complete lack of facial and body hair meant that to any respectable Dwarf, he was considered ugly or unattractive. At your compliments, it was only normal for him to be in a state of disbelief. You were the first and only woman to take interest.

"It's nothing special", he finally murmured. "I just use a light oil after I wash my hair".

"You need to lend it to me sometime", you insisted with a grin, your eyes seeming to sparkle with mirth. "It works wonders on your hair. It's so beautiful". Kili felt his heartbeat increase, his tone falling quieter amidst his further disbelief.

"Do you think so?". In a sudden surge of confidence, you replied,

"I know so. You have the most gorgeous looking hair out of all the Dwarves in this Company". His eyes had blown wide, his lips parting in surprise. "It looks lovely pinned back", you added, finally binding his hair securely with his clasp. "Or left out". You shrugged. He grew confused when you shuffled in front of him. "But, I think I like your fringe the most. It frames your kind face without hiding it".

You were so close now, your (e/c) eyes trained on the delicate strands that made up his bangs. Your touch was featherlight and uncalloused, your face screwed in concentration. In your current focus, you didn't see the admiration and awe for you that shimmered in his gaze. Never had he gotten attention like this, even from a friend. Friend. He despised that word when his thoughts drifted to you. But, how could you possibly ever find him attractive?? His lack of facial hair and muscle was unmanly, even by human standards.

You were strangely beautiful to Kili. You weren't as tall or lithe as the Elves, nor as creamy-skinned or graceful. You had perfect little imperfections in your skin and freckles. Your hair had character, being curly. And you almost always wore your hair out of your face, the odd stray hair coming to frame it perfectly. And from the moment he sensed his feelings for you some weeks ago, Kili had felt his confidence decrease. He felt as if he had no chance with 12 other eligible Dwarves in the Company that could easily win you over with their toned bodies and lavish, braided hair.

The Princeling wasn't oblivious to how you often spent your time with Ori, looking through his books and learning how to knit the varying patterns he practiced. And despite how Ori was much younger than Kili, he had an attractive amount of body hair. He was nowhere near as confident as the Prince, nor as rehearsed in the prowess of battle. However, it didn't stop the envy that crept its way into his heart and mind. Looks had always mattered to everyone else before, so why would it be any different now?

When your cooler hands brushed over his face whilst you worked, it left burning tingles in his skin. You noted the perfect shaping of his eyebrows, running your thumbs over them to smooth any stray hairs. His features were strong, to be expected of a man in Dwarven culture. You swept loose pieces of his fringe from his cheeks, his stubble seductively rough beneath your skin.

Some part of you preferred Kili without a beard. All the hair that hung from the others was so extravagant, but you liked seeing more of his face. His cheeky smile was your favourite thing to see, even on a bad day. Perhaps a beard would hide that?

Raking his fringe up for slight volume, you found yourself taken by how ethereal he seemed. You questioned yourself on whether or not it was your lack of food and rest from the day, but you couldn't ignore the fondness that crept into your soul at being so close with him. A smile marked your face, setting the last strands of his dark locks aside.

"Beautiful", you'd murmured, a sense of accomplishment filling your heart. The warmth of his skin increased beneath your lingering fingertips, his hazel gaze playing over your softer features. To his greater surprise, there was only genuity in your expression. Not wanting you to retreat from him, Kili placed his heated callouses over your own, fighting the way his eyes slightly glazed over with tears.

"Thank you". He offered you one of those boyish smiles, taking comfort in the suppleness of your skin beneath his own. You caressed the stubble beneath your skin, grazing your thumb over the smoothness of his sharp cheekbone. Kili chuckled in amusement, "I look a bit more dignified now".

"Nonsense. Your hair looked fitting either way", you laughed softly, squeezing the warmer hands that held your own. "It's truly beautiful. Stubble and all". His dark brows had risen, wonder filling his kind gaze. You really didn't mind his lack of body hair??

"I always thought my stubble was– I thought it may have been unsightly", he confessed with the hints of a nervous smile, your brows creasing in light concern. "Beards are of high importance in my culture".

"Not in mine", you shrugged, slowly trailing your thumb over his dimples and slightly chapped lips. "Besides, how else would I be able to see that gorgeous smile?". The shy grin that slowly splayed onto his face at your words was the happiest one you'd ever seen on the Prince. Your words had dissolved any unsurities in his heart. "That's the one", you giggled, Kili trying and failing to restrain his smile.

"I think I like yours better", he murmured, sweeping one of your stray curls from your face. "It's the one I fell for, after all".

The small gap between you both closed, Kili's burning lips meeting yours in a gentle touch. It started off unsure and light, becoming almost fervent when your head tilted and lips parted to allow his tongue to slip past them. Using his hand resting along your jaw, he guided your head closer to his own, relishing in the need to be as close to you as possible. His stubble scratched the skin of your face pleasurably, a soft sigh exhaling through your nose.

The both of you separated, your lips swollen and tingling from the caresses and nibbles of his own. Kili's eyes finally fluttered open after a few moments, skimming your face with a soft tenderness. "Abnâmul", he whispered, running a heated digit over your tingling lips. "You'll have to let me do that more often".

"I'll have to think about it", you mused, squeezing the hand that cradled your face affectionately.

"Hopefully not too hard", Kili sighed in pretend dejection, tracing his thumb along your cheek. "I do really love you".

"I'm glad the feeling is mutual", you chuckled softly, pressing your lips to his with a playfulness. No longer burdened with his insecurities, Kili's laughter chased your own,

"Me too".

The End. . .

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Hey, everyone! I hope you all enjoyed this fic! As always, any and all feedback is welcome!! If you wish to be a part of my taglist, check out my masterlist and let me know what you'd like to be tagged in! ❤❤❤

* * *

Translations;

Abnâmul = "beautiful", (Khuzdul)

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TAGLIST; @fizzyxcustard @lathalea @emrfangirl

[h5eavenly]

Promise of eternity.

words: 900 | pairing: lee minho x reader | genre: fluff, sweet and soft love what is this?? angie writing smth that isn't angst??

Love comes to you in the most unanticipated moments. It swims through every blood vessel in your essence and paints every particle of you with affection, oozing right from the depths of your heart until you’re half of the person you love. His delights interweave with yours, and you find it in your being to grow the same likeness for it as well. Giving room for appreciation to bloom towards things you never paid attention to before.

It comes to you when you awake in the middle of the night, Minho’s scent between your sheets and his body intermingled with yours.

His body heavy atop yours and yet with a drowsy mind you can only grow to be grateful, for something as trivial as a fleeting moment. To have him this close, to be lucky enough to share proximity with the person you love and to have his soft breaths hitting the side of your face.

Affinity for the reminder that you’re allowed to love him even when he’s fallen into a deeper slumber.

It is forgotten as soon as your eyelids fall back shut yet the warmth of gratitude lingers in the core of your being. It’s almost one with you, nestles deeper through you whenever you look at him. Whether it’s the morning after or weeks later, when a smile as warm is drawn upon his face as he plays with his cats in your living room.

The fondness in your eyes, your own smile dispersing across your lips with no permission from you are all just countless verification of your feelings, a crude unveils of your unyielding longing for him even when he’s next to you.

Like the moon unfurling from behind the fog with intention, albeit not as lucid, it’s there.

Minho calls you dramatic with a teasing smirk each time, you only think you’re a human with too much love to give and he serendipitously happened to stumble into your embrace.

It hits you on a non-particular evening, the sun is setting, and the sky is colored with hues of orange and a soft pink while the two of you lie under a sky painted with white clouds. His head rests on your shoulder and love flows through every part of you, in the iced peach tea you made just for him and the crown of flowers you had placed atop his head. He remains a vision of forever, promises woven with eternity in his thumb as it swipes across the skin of your arm.

“If you could be anything in the world right now, what would you be?” you ask, tilting your head at a cloud that looks awfully similar to Dori.

“Asleep.”

“Answer seriously!” you complain endearingly, pinching at his arm with no intent for hurt to unfold.

“What’s wrong with wanting to be asleep?” he replies, voice laced with amusement “what would you be?” he faces you, his fingers trailing up your arm and your noses almost touch. A breathless giggle tumbling out your lips with no reason other than appreciation to have him this close.

“A bird!” Your cheerfulness colors the cadence of your tone and his smile melts deeper into devoted affection for you.

“Why a bird?”

“Because I could fly to you whenever I want” you answer so easily, paradoxical to how hard his heart starts beating against his ribcage, pulsating with the same love you hold so warmly in your eyes for him.

“You don’t need to fly to me if I’m next to you all the time.” His fingers brush over your brow like the soft strokes of a lovesick’s paintbrush, leaving behind specks of partiality.

“I know but sometimes you need to go away without me, if I’m a bird then I can just follow you.” you close your eyes, smiling with all the love in the world etched onto your lips.

“You’re an idiot.” He whispers, chuckling with depraved desire to hide you in the deepest parts of his heart, then you won’t have to wish to be anything else. he already has you, one with his being.

“But I am your idiot?” you ask, interlocking your fingers with his, soft caresses of affection land atop your cheeks, their beauty unmatched, no sunset could ever compare.

“Always.”

Love came to you unexpectedly, from the moment your eyes locked with Minho for the first time, your souls had touched and there was no way for you to stop it. And you found yourself waking up each day with delirium to turn your head and watch Minho next to you, never too far away and always within reach. Despite your fear of being nothing but a ghost of a touch across his skin, Minho is always there with an unwavering burning for you.

“I love you.” he tells you, like peace has never been this present unless he’s next you and your smile widen.

“I love you too.”