#i promise i'm never going to a concert again

[twilasversion]

I'M GENUINELY SO SORRY I DON'T MEAN TO BRAG BUT WHAT DO YOU MEAN I'VE GOT TO SEE (OR AM GOING TO SEE) TAYLOR, LANA, PARAMORE, CHAPPELL, SABRINA, OLIVIA, BILLIE, RAYE, STEPHEN SANCHEZ, POSTMODERN JUKEBOX, NOTHING BUT THIEVES & IMAGINE DRAGONS LIVE IN CONCERT

[fairyysoup]

easy living

pairing: eric (a quiet place: day one) x fem!reader

summary: You ran into Eric on accident. Now you're facing the end of the world together. How do you get to know someone when you can't make a sound?

tags: smut, oral (f receiving), dry humping, piv sex, silent fucking, angst, hurt/comfort, survival, discussions of trauma, slight suicidal ideation by reader, words of affirmation as a love language, stay silent or die (obviously), strangers to lovers, apocalyptic, the cheesiest ending bc it's me writing, billie holiday lyrics bc it's also me writing

a/n: here it is, the silent fucking fic i promised y'all a year ago when this movie was announced. it was supposed to be like 1-2k words of plain smut but then I got too into the theory of what one does when you can't show affection through words and I genuinely discovered a tidbit of trauma I didn't know I had while writing it so I will be talking to a therapist about it, and also I'm literally out here baring my soul lol.

i also want to thank @bigtiddythanos @raraeavesmoriendi and @maximoffwxnda for supporting me throughout this writing process <3 this fic literally would not have been finished or published without y'all

ALL MY WORKS ARE 18+ MINORS DNI

The rain has ended. Morose, you stare up at the ceiling, wondering when you’ll get something close to free reign with your voice again. 

Of course the world had to end while you were at fucking Whole Foods.

You’ll miss certain things. Things you always took for granted, that you never even considered made a lot of noise until now. Typing on the computer. Making stir fry. Microwaving a burrito at 3am. Lighting a match, washing your face. Taking a shower.

And other things, too, that are more obvious, like singing while making cookies. Slurping the bottom of a milkshake. You’ll never be able to have a pet bird. You’ll never be able to see another concert again, and damn it if you didn’t really want those Glastonbury tickets a month ago. But it all just seems trivial, now. You don’t see why you shouldn’t just lay here on the couch forever. 

On the other side of the coffee table there’s a gentle shuffling. Eric rouses as quietly as he can; at the very least, your apartment creates a hospitable enough environment that he isn’t startled awake. It’s so silent in the apartment that you can hear the slight shift in his intake of breath, the rustle of the pillow as he turns his head to look at you. 

You want to look at him, but you fear that you’ll end up wanting to talk. So, you say nothing. You do nothing. You stare at the white paint on the ceiling and you wonder whether it would be better to get on one of the boats headed out into the water, or to move inland, away from people, away from sound. There has to be somewhere far enough away from the city that the… creatures won’t go, right?

Eric waves his hand in your periphery, so that you have no choice but to acknowledge that you know he’s awake. You have no choice but to turn your head and look into the depths of his eyes, and feel all the pain of the last 48 hours return to you. You’d been able to talk last night, just enough, in time with the rain and the thunder– enough to learn that he has family across the world. 

You can’t imagine knowing that somewhere, across an ocean and half a world away, your parents may or may not be dead. No way to contact them, no way to know what’s become of them. You can’t even begin to fathom the fear that he’s feeling, as much as you’re despairing. 

Eric’s big eyes tell you everything. Sadness and fear, and trying to grasp at the smallest hint of normalcy he can get. He blinks at you, and mouths, You okay?

No, you’re definitely not okay. Things are not okay. Things are broken and can’t be fixed. Things will never be the same again. He knows that, as much as you know that. But you nod anyway, even though you feel your heart beat a little bit slower than usual, like it wants to just go ahead and give up already. Tears prick at your eyes, and you have to close them before you let on that you’re lying.

Eric knows you’re lying, of course. How could anyone be okay, in this kind of situation? But he waits until you open your eyes, and then he mouths, Coffee?

You let out a small sigh of relief, and a smile that’s indescribably warm crosses your face. Even though he can’t make a sound, he knows exactly what to say.

You don’t have a coffee maker that doesn’t also make a ton of noise. But through some kind of witchcraft, Eric quietly empties two k-cups into a glass measuring cup and boils a soup pot full of water on the stove, and suddenly you have hot coffee in front of you. 

On a notepad left on the counter, you write, Wish I had some tea for you. 

Eric’s lips turn up at the edges, and he takes the pen from you. You’re able to doctor your coffee for about one second before he slides the notepad back to you.

Bloody American.

Your ensuing huff of a laugh is enough to make him turn pink around the ears, and he turns to place the dirty measuring cup into the sink. He reaches for the faucet, but then thinks better of it. You’ll have to figure out how to wash the dishes later.

You both drink your coffee in silence on the couch. You never considered yourself uncomfortable with silence; you’ve lived alone, you’ve gone for weeks without uttering a word before. But it’s so difficult to be sitting next to someone– someone you feel you could really get to like– and not be able to say a word. To make a sound, laugh or cry or snort or grunt. 

You’ll never be able to know what Eric’s laugh sounds like, or listen to his favorite song with him, or watch some stupid rerun of Friends with him while ignoring your responsibilities. He’s right there next to you, he’s risked his life to save you once already, and yet he’s so far away. You’ll never get to know him in all the ways you want to. Will you ever really know him at all?

He’d created a diversion when one of the fucking things had you trapped in a corner, between a dumpster and a brick wall. He chucked a rock at a car and set off an alarm, and then ran with you down an alleyway, his arm wrapped tight around your waist. Eric looked so sad, following you like a lost puppy. He was fucking drenched, too, so you know he’d probably been through one hell of a morning. And then the rain started, and the creatures were confused and… well, you weren’t just gonna leave him, scared and alone.

You, too, were scared and alone.

Eric’s hand appears to brush away a tear that had begun to fall down your cheek, betraying your internal monologue. You look to him with puffy eyes, and he pulls his hand away, suddenly unsure of whether you’re okay with such an intimate gesture. 

Your coffee cup meets the table with a quiet tap. You’re slow to move, but you scoot towards him, his arm still outstretched towards you, his eyes wide. Eric has the prettiest eyes in the world, you think. You want to tell him so.

But you’re a little too choked up to form words, anyways. Your forehead meets Eric’s shoulder, and his arm comes around you before you can huff the first silent sob that brims up. He coos softly into your hair, so softly that you can barely hear it, but it conveys enough. It does enough. 

The world is fucked. Your life is fucked. You have tunnel vision and you can only see things getting worse from here on; the only good thing you know anymore is holding you and caressing your head so gently that it pushes your tears out for you. 

You’ll never get to see a movie in a theater, and smell the stale popcorn again. You’ll never drive down the highway with the wind in your hair. You’ll never ride a roller coaster or sing karaoke. You’ll never go to a club and have a drunken heart to heart with a stranger in a bathroom.

“Do you think it’s worth it?” You whisper, so faintly that it’s barely above a breath, your lips pressed to the shell of his ear. “To try to exist in a world where you have to pretend like you don’t exist?”

Eric pauses, holding you to him. You can see the wheels turning in his head, while he tries to figure out what to say. Then he turns his face to put his lips against your ear, the same way you’d done to him. 

“I think it’s worth it to try to survive.” His breath tickles your skin when he whispers, “So survive with me, yeah?”

You nod solemnly, your tears threatening to rise up again. “I can’t stand not talking to you.” It’s so hard to keep your voice from cracking, from rising above the merest hint of a whisper, directly to him and no one or nothing else. 

Eric takes it in stride. “You are talking to me.” He pulls back and bats his eyelashes, and you think, he oughta fucking know what that does to me. 

“Not like this,” you breathe to him, because that’s really what it is– it’s a breath. A sigh. A gust of air and nothing else, barely anything that registers on your vocal chords. Your hand on the back of his neck, pulling him close to you. His hand, tightening on the middle of your back, holding you there. “I want to talk– I want to get to know you.” 

“Well, this isn’t so bad, is it?” Eric turns his head. His forehead nudges yours at the temple, and you swear you see a flash of a smile on his face. “What do you want to know?” 

His forefinger traces up and down, up and down, a gentle pattern that keeps you grounded. You bite your lip, trying to keep from letting the sounds come out too loud. You say the first thing that comes to mind. “What’s your favorite song?”

“Easy Living. Billie Holiday.” 

“You’re kidding.” You’re blushing, hot in the cheeks. You’re imagining it; slow dancing in the kitchen with him while oldies plays on the radio. You didn’t think such an innocent question would send you spiraling like this, but it hurts worse to know that it will probably never happen.

“Absolutely not.” 

“Somehow… I can’t picture you listening to jazz.” 

“Picture it all you want,” he whispers. Eric swallows, and continues, “My granddad used to have these records, and we used to play them on Christmas. But when– when he died, the records went missing. I couldn’t find the song until a couple years ago,” he explains, and his voice cracks just slightly into a murmur. 

You both freeze. You wait for the sound of creatures coming down the hallway, busting down the walls… nothing happens. You let out a breath, and you pull his face closer to yours. His eyes flick over your face, and you put your lips against his ear. 

“You have to be so quiet. Can you do that for me?” Eric nods in your hands. “I wish we could do anything but this. I wish that we could have met in better circumstances. I wish… I wish I had known you before all of this. I think we would have had a lot of fun. But if this is the only way I can get to know you, and hear your voice now, I’ll take it.” You’re nodding as well now, like you’re trying to convince yourself of it. “I’m telling you this because I don’t know how long we have. Together, I mean. And I don’t want to waste it passing notes. Okay?” 

“Okay.” He sounds clipped. His hand fidgets on your back, and you pull away to find him misty-eyed, his brows turned up. He fishes for words that don’t come, and then he nods. “Okay.” 

Neither of you move. The atmosphere around you feels heavy, like it’s pressing in on all sides. Eric’s hand slides up your back and to your face, and you remember that you’re still holding his. You’re near sitting in his lap with how close you’ve become, and the realization of that feels like a punch to the gut.

You think you should pull away. You don’t. 

Eric’s thumb traces a gentle arc across your bottom lip. It’s so featherlight it’s barely there– his eyes are honed in on your mouth, clearly lost in thought. You’d let him stay there as long as he wants, but you want every minute you can get. “Eric–”

He closes the gap and kisses you. The way you’d said his name– or not said it, rather, you sort of mouthed it against his thumb– had done the job you wanted it to. It feels like this was the obvious conclusion to the system you’d worked out, the close proximity and your shared fears. He’s scared, he said as much last night. You’re scared, you said so just now. 

Nowhere to go, nothing else to do except be right here, living. Alive, together. Kissing Eric, and him pulling you close by the waist, so that you do swing your leg and seat yourself in his lap. And as much as you love talking, and it breaks your heart that you can’t jabber at him, there are some things you just can’t put into words. Like the way that his hand on the back of your neck lights you up inside, or that you can’t think of anything other than all the areas where his skin is touching yours, and how you suddenly wish there was way more of them.

It’s stupid how much you like him already, really. You can feel your nonexistent friends clucking their tongues and shaking their heads, saying, “One day? That’s all it takes? You find some guy at the end of the world and you fall in love in 24 hours?” And they’d be right– maybe it’s not love. Not yet, anyways. But you could see it easily becoming that. And that fact scares you even more.

Your hands find Eric’s chest and the frantic beating of his heart tells you nearly the same thing. You break the kiss, trying to quietly catch your breath without gasping like you’re half-drowning. It’s harder than you expected. 

“Been wanting to do that all morning,” Eric whispers. And just like that you’re falling again, faster this time, like he’s just melted your wings right off and sent you plummeting.

You struggle to keep from gasping aloud when he kisses your jaw, just beneath your ear. It’s the lightest touch but you swear it burns, sears your skin. 

Your hands find the back of the couch, twitchy fingers digging in to keep you steady. Your mouth finds his again, his tongue tasting of coffee, and Eric kisses you a bit harder now, a bit sloppier. 

Breaking away, you open your eyes to find his wide, starstruck, his mouth hanging open like he’s been shocked beyond belief. You didn’t honestly intend for this to happen– you wanted to talk. But somehow this seems better, more appropriate. 

How do you get your feelings across when talking isn’t really an option? When innocent attraction becomes… whatever this is? 

You press a single finger to his plush lips, signaling exactly what you mean without a word. Quiet. 

Eric purses his lips, kisses your finger without breaking eye contact. His pupils are blown out so far that the barest hint of golden brown surrounds them, glinting in the sunlight from the window. 

You lean forward, until your mouth touches his ear. “Your eyes are so fucking pretty, Eric,” you whisper to him, and your teeth latch onto his earlobe to tug gently. You can’t help it– you grind your hips down into his lap, without even thinking of doing it. “You’re so pretty.”

Eric whimpers. It’s a soft sound, hollow in the back of his throat, but it’s still too loud for the world that you’re in. You clamp your hand down over his mouth, and his breath comes out sharp and hot over your knuckles as he tries to regain composure.

“Do you want me to stop?” You ask him, whispering gently in his ear. Against you, he shakes his head no. “Want me to keep going?” Eric nods his head yes. 

He’s shaking under you, his fingertips digging into your lower back like he can’t hold onto you hard enough. At the thought, your pulse pounds, blood positively humming through your veins. 

You nuzzle his cheek, and give him the sweetest kiss you can while your hand is still clamped over his mouth insistently. “You have to be. Fucking. Silent. Do you understand?” He nods. “We can’t make a sound. Okay?” 

Eric nods again, and keeps nodding until you let him go. If the rain was still pouring like earlier, you could tell him how much you want him, too. How you don’t want to be mean, you just don’t want to get hurt. This is a bad idea, all things considered. But Eric slides his hand down and cups your ass to lift you up a bit, and the words bad and idea suddenly fucking vanish from your vocabulary.

You stand long enough to kick off your sweats, your day old panties going down with them. You hadn’t dressed to be sexy yesterday, you dressed to get groceries. You don’t necessarily want Eric to see your faded cotton underwear with the stretched out elastic and multiple frayed holes. You don’t think it would add to your sex appeal right now. 

He doesn’t notice the lack of a strip tease– he’s already taking you by the hips, not even waiting for you to shuck your t-shirt. He pulls until you’re stood in front of him, and then hooks your leg over his shoulder. 

So. Eric doesn’t need to be asked to go down on you, he just does. The gentleman. His hands are firm on your ass as he nuzzles into the patch of hair between your legs, and the precarious balancing act makes you snatch onto the back of the couch again. 

His tongue glides through the folds of your pussy slowly, methodically. You aren’t sure if he wants to take his time, or if he’s going slow so that he doesn’t make too much noise when doing it, but he latches onto your clit and sucks agonizingly softly, like he knows he should do it harder but won’t risk making you moan. 

It’s so gentle, and it builds. Pretty soon, you’re having a tough time keeping your whimpers in, even when he’s basically just teasing you, flicking his tongue over your clit with even the barest pressure. Your head has fallen back on your shoulders, your hand now clasped over your own mouth to stifle your sighs. 

Then, Eric’s hand glides up to splay across your lower back, and he sucks long and hard at your clit, and your hand squeezes murderously at the back of the couch while you ride out your orgasm on his tongue. 

Knees buckling, you collapse into Eric’s lap. He has a doe-eyed look on his face that’s way too innocent after what he just did to you. With panting breath and shaking hands, you cup his rosy cheeks in your palms, shaking your head in disbelief. 

Eric’s brows tilt in worry, like he did something wrong. He opens his mouth, but you put your fingers against his lips to silence him, and lean forward to breathe, “You’re too sweet for me, Eric.” 

He traces his fingers lightly up your spine, and turns his head. “Maybe one day I won’t have to be sweet. Maybe then I can really fuck you.” 

The sound of his whispering voice in your ear makes you shiver, your lust reaching a boiling point. The idea of him really fucking you– that this isn’t even him as normal, that he’s having to hold so much back– makes you burn hot all at once. That this isn’t something he’s planning on doing once. That there’s a ‘one day’ that he sees in the future with you in it. 

With a nod, your breath catches in your throat. You find your way to his mouth again, kissing him desperately. You can taste yourself lingering on his lips, and your hips rock forward against his again. 

Eric inhales sharply, stifling his own moan. You guess you have to take it just as slowly as he did, ease him into it. You work your hand beneath his unbuttoned fly and palm him, keeping your touch gentle against his hot skin. He shakes, his hands laid out against your spine, his eyes sparkling when he looks up at you. 

You push your forehead against his as you sink onto his cock, letting yourself adjust to his size. His breath stutters as he tries to keep quiet, small puffs of air spilling out and meeting your electrified skin. You curl your fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck, rocking your hips just barely, settling into his lap. 

This is more intimate than you can ever remember being with anyone, but right now it just feels right. Maybe it could be cathartic to fuck like a couple of animals in the face of doom, but Eric pulls your body flush against his, one strong forearm around your waist, and his nose nudges yours, and you think this is better. This is what you both need. Closeness. Sweetness. 

There isn’t a lot of movement– you can’t risk it. You and Eric seem to be in agreement on that, because as soon as you start trying to move in earnest, he just pulls you back to him, his arm around your waist and his hand petting the back of your head. 

Eric rocks his hips up into yours slowly, deeply, and it’s the depth of it and the slow sensuality that keeps you floating. Your clit catches on the patch of hair at the base of his cock each time you roll your hips with him, and you have to kiss him to keep from keening aloud. He doesn’t seem to mind it. 

You know he’s close when he tucks his face against your neck, his arm tightening around you. “Feels so fucking good,” comes his whine in your ear, and you gently shush him, your hand resting on the back of his head to keep him muffled against your shoulder. You want so badly to look at his face when he cums, but there’s that pesky issue of staying alive, and that hinges on whether or not he can keep quiet when he does. 

To his credit, he bites your shoulder and only whimpers a little bit. It’s just a squeak, but really, he could have been much louder about it, and then you would have both been in trouble. Imagine having to run for your life with your pants down. 

Ever the gentleman, he keeps you there even after he’s spent and sensitive, his hand clamped down on your thigh to prevent you from moving. His thumb finds your clit, and he lifts his head to watch you, his hooded eyes trained on your face as he brings you to the edge and over it again. He watches the way your brows tilt up, the way you struggle to keep your own eyes open, and the silent moan that threatens to break past your parted lips.

Eric claps his hand down over your mouth before it can. Your eyes fly open, your cunt clenches down around him, and he bares his teeth as you cum hard. It’s cyclical, comes in waves as he continues to stroke you through it, as he keeps his hand clamped down on your mouth to keep you quiet. 

To keep you quiet. 

Feverish and exhausted, you come down with your chest against his, Eric’s head flopped back onto the backrest of the couch. Your knees fucking hurt and you have yet to get off of him, and you sort of dread the moment when you have to. But this means your mouth is positioned right next to Eric’s ear, and you’re nothing if not a talker.

“Eric?” you whisper, and he turns his head just enough to let you know he heard you. “I’m glad that I met you when I did. Even if it’s terrible timing, I’m glad we met.”

A sweet, tired smile flits across Eric’s beautiful face. He nudges his nose against your temple. “I’m glad, too.” 

You shift off of him, and he squeezes your thigh just at the same time as he scrunches his face. He’s such a trooper about it, you kiss his cheek as you go, leaning over to grab a pair of earphones from the coffee table. 

You hand one ear bud to him, watching as confusion crosses his face. He watches you type on your phone as he tucks the bud into his ear, and you the other. 

On low volume, you listen to the soft piano and saxophone intro to an old jazz standard. Eric grins, his hand finding your cheek before he pulls you in for a kiss. 

And then, Billie Holiday’s voice plays for only you two to hear. 

Living for you is easy living, It’s easy to live when you’re in love And I’m so in love, There’s nothing in life but you.

[bratbarzal]

Let It Happen (LH43) 2/3

Pairing: Luke Hughes x Fem!Reader

WC: 17k

>PART ONE<

Turn me into something tragic, just for you I let it happen.

General Warnings: after the first part you're probably thinking how could there possibly be more snark? you're about to find out. same with idiotic shenanigans, they're not quite finished with those!! fluff, cursing, sexual references, and fade to black type smut!!

A/N: DON'T HATE ME FOR MAKING IT 3 PARTS I'M JUST AN ADHD GIRLY WHO CAN'T READ 30K IN ONE GO BUT APPARENTLY CAN WRITE IT??? part three will be tomorrow I pinky promise!! I was nervous about splitting this whole thing up bc I really did write a whole romcom lmao!! I know long fics aren't to everyone's taste but I know no way of life other than the art of yapping!! Sorry that this took a little longer than expected there were a couple of scenes I couldn't get right but I hope you guys like this half as much as you did the first part!! and again I'd love to hear any thoughts!! reading your messages and your reblogs and your tags made my month and ily a lot!! like I said, I promise part 3 will be tomorrow, I didn't want to force so much at you in comparison to the first part!!

“I’m bored.”

Luke hadn’t thought he would regret staying at home when he had told Jack he wasn’t feeling well enough to drive out to Detroit for the Zach Bryan concert - if anything, it was an effort to push him and Ellie a little closer. She took Luke’s place, roomed with Jack in their hotel and everything, and they seemed to be having the time of their lives in all the videos dispersed into the group chat. But that was all before he came downstairs, eyes on the pictures of the all-you-can-eat breakfast the group were partaking in before coming back, and opening the kitchen cupboards to see them bare, with a few protein bars and boxes of granola tossed in like they’d been ransacked for the apocalypse. 

He’d had fun last night, though.

Even after the movie had ended, when the two of you had stayed up on the couch, talking about life - about hockey, about school, about his brothers, about your mom - if he’s honest, it had been the closest he had felt to another person that wasn’t one of his brothers in a really long time.

He really felt like you were connecting.

So much so that he’d retired to his bed for the first time all summer with a big, dopey grin on his face. Had laid awake scrolling through astrological compatibility after the two of you had drifted onto that topic after the movie finished, talking for maybe two hours before you had yawned so big he thought you might swallow him whole.

He had thought he knew you, before.

Had thought that those brief observations made from back in college, about your coffee preferences, your perfume collection, your taste in music, had painted a somewhat blurry picture of who you were - of all the things that blended together to formulate you - but he had been so wrong. 

And he had laid in bed last night thinking much deeper about the girl who was laying only a couple rooms down the hall - a few walls away. 

The girl who had come downstairs, bare feet padding softly into the kitchen, and had poured out two glasses of juice and handed one over to him without even asking. 

“Hi Bored, I’m Luke,” he smiles as he accepts the drink from your hand, the expression deepening as you roll your eyes back at him, this time with a glimmer of fondness slipping through the surface of your facade. 

You reach past him into the cupboard for the box of granola, and he grabs one of the protein bars before closing it, your bodies moving around each other in tandem like a well choreographed routine - easy and effortless in a way that calms whatever nerves he might have had around this new development in your relationship being one-sided.

You had never seemed uncomfortable in the house, or around the rest of the guys, but you had never been like this. 

“I was thinking,” you drag out, voice sweet and alluring, like you even have to put it on to convince Luke of anything, “we could go out on the boat,” you glance back at him as you pour out your cereal, lashes fluttering to complete the act, “You have your license right?”

“Yeah,” he replies, settling himself down to lean at the kitchen island as you cross to the other side, taking one of the stools, “But I’m not really supposed to take it out on my own.”

You hum as if you’re thinking, crunching your food before asking, “Is that brotherly advice or is that the law?”

“Advice, I guess,” he shrugs, pushing forward ever so slightly onto his forearms, where he can feel the tense of his muscles, and can see the diversion of your attention. 

“And you always do what your brothers tell you?”

When you tilt your head, the sun shining through the kitchen window reflects on your irises, making them sparkle, and he can see all the different hues in there, as if you’re using the elements to try hypnotise him into compliance.

You’re so pretty, you don’t even need the special effects.

“I’m a good boy,” he smiles teasingly, with a tilt of his own head, driven by infatuation and admiration, keeping your gaze and trying not to shudder visibly when your eyes drop to his lips. 

“You wouldn’t be on your own, though,” you pout, “I’d be there. I was a lifeguard for the past three summers, you know.” Of course he knows. “I promise I’ll save you if you get thrown overboard.”

You don’t have to say the following sentiment that the two of you share - that if he were to be thrown overboard, it would undoubtedly be by your own hand. 

“Yeah, you’d give me mouth to mouth?”

You scoff, leaning down onto your forearms and mirroring his position, careful not to knock your bowl. “Unfortunately for you, Hughes, they don’t advise the use of that method, anymore.”

“And you always do what people tell you?”

It’s one of his favourite things to do with you, he’s noticed - turn the tables, use your own wit against you. It gets him a reaction, every time. A rush of something real that washes over you, has you fixing your shoulders and biting back a smile. 

Although you don’t bite this one back. Luke doesn’t think that you could, even if you tried. Your eyes even crinkle a little in the corners, and Luke doesn’t see the danger in it - too lost in the way they reflect the glorious sunshine back at him in dazzling sparkles - until one drops in a wink as you retort, “I’m a good girl.”

Touché.

He thinks his heart might have skipped a beat. He can all of a sudden feel every last crumb of the previous bite he took from his protein bar lodged in his throat, and he needs a drink, so he pushes himself up from the counter to try at least gain a height advantage over you, and forces down some gulps of his juice.

The look you’re giving him isn’t doing him any favours - the height difference working against him as your eyes look up to meet his, round and pleading despite the cunning genius he knows is buried within them. 

“Fine,” he huffs, rolling his eyes as your smile grows wider, “But we need to be back before my brothers so I don’t get a lecture.”

“Yes!” You squeal, pushing up from the stool, “I knew you weren’t as boring as you seem!”

He frowns, despite knowing you’re just teasing him for this exact reaction, and watches as you clean up your bowl, discarding of the mushy granola and rinsing it out. 

“I just need ten minutes to get ready and then we can go!”

“You have five.” He grumbles, watching as you rush out the room and listening for the stomp of your feet up the stairs. 

He’s probably going to regret this. 

—

The bikini had been your first strike - baby blue, the type that ties with strings around your neck and back - when you had come down the stairs, the slap of your slides echoing against the wood and diverting his attention from his phone to your emerging figure. Your t-shirt was clutched in your hand, your tote bag in the other, and he had just stood there, mouth agape, until you rolled your eyes and stormed straight past him, calling, “Thought we were on a time crunch, come on,” behind you.

Your second strike had been the way you had waited until you were on the boat to apply your sunscreen, sat next to Luke, who was trying to keep a steady hand on the wheel as he drove his way down to a clear spot further out on the lake. Luke who was biting his tongue from offering to help you, and could smell the sweet melon scent of the lotion as it sank into your skin. 

And the third had been the way you had been smiling down at your phone, distracting him with the pretty curve of your lips as he steered over the water. 

Three such minor infractions already had him regretting the decision to bring you out here alone.

“Who’s got you smiling like that?” He asks, trying not to sound as jealous as he feels at the thought of it being another guy.

“It’s Cole,” you tell him, eyes still on your phone.

“You and Cole text?” The boat jolts slightly as his hands tremble, and he diverts his attention to you.

“No, he’s got Ellie’s phone.” You type something back before turning the device to show him a selfie Cole had taken in the hotel lobby, Jack asleep on one of the benches in the background and Ellie posing in front of his sleeping figure.

“Why’s Cole texting from Ellie’s phone?” Luke asks, eyes back on the water as he steers the boat, long fingers curled around the wheel and muscles flexing. 

“They’ve been hanging out,” you tell him, “They were together when we got back from the club the other night, he was in our room.”

“And you’re only just telling me this now, because?”

“Oh, my bad, control freak, didn’t realise you needed the whereabouts of everybody in the house,”

“Jack’s been off all week,” Luke mutters, remembering his brother’s reaction when he had told him he was staying at home instead of going to the concert. He had called him out on staying home just to be around you, saying he’d regret missing out on such a huge experience, like there won’t be a hundred other concerts in his lifetime, and that you wouldn’t even appreciate him doing it. “Making all these passive aggressive comments,”

“No way! Jack Hughes? Passive aggressive?” You gasp, shuffling in your seat to give him more of your attention, “What next, is he gonna start acting like the world revolves around him too?”

“Don’t get cute,” Luke rolls his eyes. It’s starting to make sense, him chewing his ear off like that - even though the two of you had literally caught him out on a date, if he feels like Ellie is moving on with his best friend, he’s bound to feel some sort of way about it. “If they were together when he came home from that date, maybe he saw them,”

“They were hardly getting it on with the door wide open, Luke, they were playing cards.” You scoff, “Plus, he has no right to be upset, he was literally on a date he told nobody about.”

“He gets in his head about stuff like this,” Luke reasons as he slows the boat, bringing it to a stop in the middle of the water so he can focus, “Talks himself in circles until it makes him so dizzy he does something stupid.”

“You think that’s what he’s doing?”

“I don’t know, I don’t like assuming the worst of my brother, though.”

“Alright, let’s say Jack is only being a dick because he thinks Ellie and Cole are hitting it off,” you stand up now that the boat is steady, kicking your slides off and ambling over to the benches at the back, out from under the cover of the roof. “What are we supposed to do about it, we can hardly keep them apart, keeping track of Jack and Ellie is hard enough without throwing Caufield into the mix. He's sneaky.”

“We’d only technically have to follow Ellie, still,” Luke says as he follows you to the back of the boat, thankful your back is to him when you start to push your skirt down your legs, and you can’t see the way his eyes go three times their usual size, he’s almost anticipating a swat to his chest for when you turn and notice. “They can still hang out, just not one-on-one, one of us could keep an eye on them, take it in turns.”

“That sounds an awful lot like hard work, Hughes,” you huff, taking a seat on the leather bench and stretching your legs out before lounging back, “Can’t your brother just grow a backbone and ask her out? It would save us both a lot of hassle.”

“I’m working on it,” he throws himself onto the bench opposite yours, thinking of all the times he’s tried to cut the conversation with his brother short by just telling him to grow a pair. “I guess you’re right, we can’t stop them being friends, it would be hypocritical.”

“Hypocritical?”

“Yeah, ‘cause we’re friends.”

“You think we’re friends?”

“You don’t?”

“We watch one movie together and now all of a sudden you think we’re besties?”

“I think we’re friends ‘cause you like my company, you wouldn’t have asked me to bring you out here if you didn’t like being around me.”

“That’s ‘cause you’re deluded.” You smile, pushing your sunglasses down from the top of your head to the bridge of your nose and relaxing back. “I like tanning and being on the water. You’re a glorified chauffeur at this point. Not a good one, either.”

“I got us out here no problems, didn’t I?”

“I had to hold on the whole way, you were throwing me around like a loose can in the trunk of your car.”

“Yeah, well the water was choppy,”

“A good workman never blames his tools, Hughes.” You smile over at him, and the innuendo makes his cheeks go hot. Definitely regretting bringing you out on the water with no escape about now.

“Did you really ask me to bring you out here just to lay out in the sun?” He leans forward with his elbows on his knees, watching as you angle your neck to face him. 

“Is that a problem?”

“It is if you’re gonna be a grouch about me being here.”

“I thought you’d be all quiet and brooding like you usually are.”

“Me?” He laughs, “Quiet and brooding?” He doesn’t think anyone has ever used the word quiet to describe him in his life. He knows you can’t be serious - all you’ve done for weeks is blast him for getting on your nerves.

“I’ve literally seen you talk once before this summer.”

What the hell do you mean by that? You barely knew who he was that day he approached you in the club. 

“That’s ‘cause you’d have to notice me to see me talk.”

“You’ve never talked to me.”

He did talk to you. Several times, in fact. That day outside your dorm with Ellie’s gift basket, a couple times in class - but they’re all insignificant, minor exchanges of words he would quite like to forget, if he’s honest. Mumbling and stuttering and, quite frankly, embarrassing, to say the least. A far cry from the confident man he’d like to think he has become. “Why would I talk to you?”

“That’s rude,” you pout, and he straightens up immediately.

“No, I just mean, like,” he waves his arms out in between the two of you, gesturing over and shaking his head. “You’re you. We were never really on the same level for me to be talking to you.”

You bring your glasses back onto the top of your head, pushing your hair out of your face and squinting against the sun to level him with a glare. “Aren’t you a big time athlete?”

“I am now. You wouldn’t have given me the time of day back then.”

“You never gave me a chance to.”

“You could have approached me.” He thinks you’re just biting back for argument’s sake, if he’s honest - there isn’t a chance in hell you ever spared a thought for talking to him or giving him the time of day. You barely even looked his way - and he definitely would have noticed. 

“So could you.” You frown. 

“I tried once.” He distinctly remembers the one time he did approach you, away from class and apart from the first time he met you, dialled up with liquid courage and driven by the way you were dressed as a sexy Patrick Bateman, and he finally felt like having the right conversation starter around his love for American Psycho might have helped him kick something off with you, or at least got you to acknowledge his existence. He would have even taken you calling him Lu again. “At a Halloween party in Freshman year. You blew me off. I barely got a word out before you were storming off.”

“When you were dressed as Scooby Doo?”

His lips part and close repeatedly like a fish bobbing it’s mouth, blinking slowly at you as he realised just what you even having that memory meant. “That’s a weird thing to remember for someone not interested.”

“A giant dork in a dog costume is a pretty hard thing to forget.” You grin satirically, “I never said I wasn’t interested, you just caught me at a bad time and never tried again,”

“You wanted me to try again?”

“I want you to be quiet. Aren’t you due a nap or something?”

“You can’t seriously tell me you asked me to bring you all the way out here just to lie out in the sun and do nothing,” he groans, watching you return back to your previous position, body bathing in the sunlight and sunglasses pushed back down onto your nose. 

“What, did you think we were gonna play mermaids?” He can’t see the roll of your eyes anymore, but he knows when it happens by now, just from your tone of voice. 

“You can do that back at the house, we have loungers out by the pool,”

“It’s not as peaceful as this.” You sigh, “Plus, the trees around the back block the sun this time of day. I’m getting pale cooped up in the club all week, I have catching up to do.”

“What am I supposed to do?”

“Lay back and relax,” you advise, nodding toward the bench he’s perched on the edge of, reaching your hand down into your tote and blindly tossing the bottle of sunscreen in his general direction, “You could use some sun, too. And if you’re a good boy, I’ll let you do my back later.”

Luke, surprisingly, folds - doing as he’s told and lounging back into the leather, and he begrudgingly thinks a little too much about how right you are. This is peaceful. The soft whoosh of water against the boat, clear blue skies, no yelling or arguing or people competing around him. Just you, and the sunshine, and the smell of melon-scented sun lotion seeping into his skin.

It isn’t long before he drifts off, his head resting on his folded arm, the heat of the sun warming him like a blanket, and the last thing he sees before his eyes close is your head turned his way, lips parted slightly as you sleep, yourself, skin glistening and your chest rising and falling in deep, steady breaths. 

When his eyes open again, you’re sat up, holding your hair up with one hand and fanning yourself with the other.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, voice thick with sleep as he sits up, his skin peeling uncomfortably off the leather. 

“I’m hot.” You whine, turning to him with a pout.

He scoffs, resisting the urge to say something corny like, I know you are, before he points out over the side of the boat. “If you look to your right, there’s a large body of water you can cool down in.”

“I’m not getting in there!”

“Why not?”

“Lake monsters, for one,” you scoff, releasing your hair and he watches it fan out over your shoulders in soft waves.

“They’re only native to Scotland, I heard.” Luke stands, looking over the side and into the steady waters to gauge how safe it would be to go in without a vest. The water is still, he’s never had any problems in this part of the lake, and he’s confident the two of you could at least take a dip without there being any concerns - you were a lifeguard, after all, and he’s always been a strong swimmer. 

“Aren’t there fish in here?” You ask, beside him now as you peer over the edge yourself. 

“There’s actually a cool hack to check, do you want me to show you?”

You eye him sceptically but nod, anyway, and he holds his hand out to help you walk to the back of the boat, stepping down onto the stern where it’s easier to reach into the water. 

You’re careful not to let him fall behind you, clearly cautious of the fact that he could push you in. Instead, he stands beside you, squats to reach down over the edge and run his fingers through the ripples that form. He stands back to full height and you squint to look up at him, the sun blaring from over his shoulder and reflecting off his sweat-slicked skin. 

It makes your eyes sparkle again, and it’s almost enough to make him change his mind from what he’s about to do - only, before your powers of hypnosis can work on him for the second time in a matter of hours, he quickly grasps onto your hips and launches the two of you into the water. 

He has the same misguided confidence he had when he squirted you with that hose - a burst of energy that he immediately succumbed to before he could think rationally about it, and it’s the same energy that forces deep and hearty laughter to rumble from his chest as you squeal on your way into the lake. 

The two of you land with a big splash, and emerge simultaneously, you running your hands through your wet hair to push it back out of your face.

“What the hell did you do that for?”

“You said you were hot, I was trying to help!”

“You are so dead!” You exclaim, splashing him with a swat of your hand against the water.

“Oh, look, a fish!”

“Ew, no!” You yell, squirming forward to try and dodge it, unintentionally leaping right into Luke, the heat of his firm chest under your flattened palm, an arm curling over his shoulder to steady yourself. 

His arms curl around your body by instinct, wrapping around your waist and holding you against him until you realise his trick, and your hands press on the top of his head until you’re pushing him under the surface with a yell of, “So dead!”

Laughter ripples out of him, from the pits of his stomach to the parting of his lips, and comes out in bubbles against your skin as you hold him down, your body thrashing to get away from his until you break free from his hold, and he rises back from under the water.

“Get back here, you’re not getting away with that!” He calls after you, launching himself forward to catch you.

“No,” you squeal, trying to gain momentum as you leap away, only for his arm to curl around your waist, pulling your squirming body back against him with a splash. “Let me go, you brute!”

“Tell me you’re having fun or you’re getting dunked,” he commands, lips beside your ear as your back is held flush to his chest, your skin still warm from the sun and smooth against his. 

“You dunk me and I’ll leave your ass to the lake monsters,” you warn him, still squirming in his hold.

“Like you could drive the boat, you need me,” your body seems to still the lower his tone gets, succumbing to his hypnotising powers, and he can feel you square your shoulders against him. 

“Yeah right,” even Luke can tell how much your denial is forced from the shiver down your spine, “Jack can do it, how hard could it be?”

“You’d really hijack the boat just to avoid admitting you like my company?” He asks as he lets you go, and you turn immediately in the water to face him. He tilts his head when your gazes meet across the water, and your eyes flicker between his as if trying to read him like a book.

“Today’s been nice,” you admit, with a dramatic roll of your eyes, “Last night, too. Not specific to your company. Just being away from everybody else."

“So that’s the key?” He dares to swim a little closer, just enough that you won’t notice him reducing the proximity between the two of you. “You wanna get me on my own?”

“You-,”

“Wish,” he finishes, your eyes meeting in a steady gaze despite the bobbing of your heads to stay afloat. He’d like to think it’s more than the water that has brought you back this close to him, legs kicking beneath the surface, his hands itching to hold back on your waist to help, “Yeah, I do.”

If he has managed to stay more or less in place while treading water, then it can’t be the current drifting you toward him, and you’re so close now that he could hold you, if his brain could just link to his hands to give them the courage to do so. 

You like being alone with him - you’ve pretty much just admitted so - feel comfortable enough that you change your plans to fit him into them - just like you had last night - you wanted him to talk to you in college, you noticed him, even, enough to remember the fact that he never did. 

There has to be some base level of interest there for you to be this close, in the first place. To move into his house, to agree to spend your summer in his company, to spending more time with him than he’s noticed you spending with your supposed best friend. 

And just as he convinces himself of it, and his thoughts link to the movement of his hands underwater, inching closer to grip at your hips and pull you all the way toward him, a shrill ringing carries all the way from the boat to Luke’s ears, turning both of your attention back to the vehicle.

“Shit, that’s Jack’s ringtone.” He groans, “They’re probably back by now.”

The two of you swim back toward the boat, and he pulls himself up onto the stern before lending you a hand to get up, yourself. 

There are a bunch of texts from his brother.

Where are you at?

Did the demon get you in your sleep?

Where’s the boat?

Please tell me you’re dumping her body and she’s not dumping yours.

You’re dead either way when you get back!

“Shit, we better get back,” he grumbles, rushing to the front of the boat to get it started again. Before you sit beside him, he feels the draping of a towel across his shoulders, and his heart thuds at the small smile you give him when his eyes meet yours.

“Sorry if I got you in trouble.”

“It’s fine,” he shrugs, nonchalant despite the rampant beating in his chest, and the thought of his brother chewing his ear off when the two of you get back. “You’re worth the headache.”

He winks, teasingly, and his eyes go back to the water before he gets the chance to see your cheeks flush. You’d probably just blame it on sunburn, anyway.

You don’t speak much on the drive back, but Luke can feel your eyes on him, can practically hear your mind whirring with a million thoughts - only because his is doing the same. 

Why does he has to have a brother with the world’s worst timing?

He would have kissed you.

At least, he thinks he would have.

His hands were reaching out. He would have pulled you in by the hips, held you against him, raised so that your faces were finally level, and he would have made a move. He can feel it in his bones, still thrumming with almost-arrogance. A knowing, sure feeling that he can’t shake - one that tells him you would have kissed him back.

But he’ll never know, now.

When the two of you get back, Jack is waiting on the dock, and you gather your things before Luke helps you off the boat. He ushers you past his brother, knowing you’d be down to argue all afternoon, if necessary, but he can take this one on his own. He doesn’t want you hearing the sort of venom he knows his brother can spew out when he’s mad like this.

You brush past Jack on the edge of the dock, who thankfully waits until you’re back at the gate and out of earshot to start on Luke.

“What the hell are you doing? Have you lost your mind?”

“What, I’m not allowed to have fun when you’re not here?” Luke scoffs, rolling his eyes at his brother’s theatrics.

So he took the boat out, it’s really not that deep, he thinks. He’s an adult, he has his license, there really shouldn’t be a problem.

“I know you’ve seen Jennifer’s Body, you shouldn’t be out on the lake on your own with her,”

“Implying she’s a demonic serial killer might be a little over-dramatic, even for you,” Luke huffs as he starts to make his own way back.

 “Trust me, it’s not.” Jack stops him with a hand gripping at his elbow. “Whatever trick she’s pulling on you, Luke, you need to wise up,”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“She isn’t interested,” Jack tells him, “She’s using you to pass the time until someone better falls into her lap, and you’re falling straight for it. Letting her convince you to stay behind and miss hanging with the rest of us, taking the boat out on your own, don’t you think it’s weird how she never had any interest in talking to you before it started benefitting her? Before you made it to the big leagues?”

Luke narrows his eyes at his brother, shoulders slumping as the words seem to weigh on them, like a heavy towel draped across to dry him and rub away all the affections you had blessed him with over the past 24 hours.

But it isn’t Jack’s words that are ringing around his head, this time. It’s yours. 

You never talked to me.

You never gave me a chance.

You never tried again.

Maybe you did have some level of interest before. Maybe his intuitions earlier had been right. Maybe it’s still there. 

“It’s none of your business, Jack,” he grumbles, not allowing him a second to rain on this parade. “You don’t even know her.”

“Don’t come crying to me when she breaks your heart, then.”

“Trust me, I won’t.”

If you’re thankful for any rule at the house, it’s the rule for knocking before you come into any bedroom. Quinn knocks most mornings to let you know breakfast is being prepared, or before he goes on a store run to ask if there’s anything you or Ellie need. Jack knocks for Ellie, and now Cole does too.

You can always tell when it’s Luke though.

Repeated and incessant, a constant rapping of knuckles against the wood until you answer, instead of any sort of pattern or rhythm.

“Can I come in?” He asks as soon as you open.

“No.” You tell him every time, but to no avail. 

“Thanks,” He swerves into the space beside you, careful not to shove past as he makes his way into the bedroom. “We have a problem.”

“Yeah, they’re called boundaries, Hughes.” You scoff, slamming the door and following him. “You can’t just waltz in here like you own the place.”

“I do.” He frowns, “Own the place. This is my house."

“Your brothers own it, actually.”

“What are you, Michigan Census Bureau?” You mimic the words back to him, your face scrunched tight and your voice as whiney and annoying as it can go, and he pushes his hand in your face, just light enough to cover it and not actually smack you because he doesn’t have a death wish. “The problem. You have to focus,” he clicks his fingers in front of you, and you swat his hand away with a frown.

“Click at me like a dog again and I’ll bite your fingers off.” The look on your face is one he should probably fear, but there’s a nagging instinct he can’t fight to keep pushing your buttons. He doesn’t know where it comes from, but it feels wrong to ignore.

“Is that supposed to turn me on?”

“The problem, Luke, get on with it.”

“Right.” He sighs, throwing himself down on the bed, “I can’t find Cole and Ellie anywhere. I think he took her out.”

“What?” You reach forward and push at his shoulder, “You had one job, Hughes!”

It had been his turn to take watch, as the two of you had agreed the other day out on the water, but it was really starting to get tiring, having to play third wheel to a situation he really didn’t understand, and he needed a recess. Five minutes just to recuperate, he didn’t expect them to make a break for it so quick. 

“I left to make a sandwich! I’m allowed to eat, you can’t expect me to starve it goes against my rights!”

“You’re such an idiot,” You scoff as you rush toward the closet to find something to wear, your plans of a self-care day now flushed down the toilet thanks to Luke’s insatiable appetite. “You couldn’t watch them for an hour without succumbing to malnutrition?”

“Why can’t you be on watch for once?”

“I was doing my nails,” You retort, wiggling your freshly painted fingernails in his face, crimson red to match your toes, and the colour Luke feels his cheeks turning at the sight of them. “Because thanks to someone the gel started lifting after spending my entire afternoon the other day with my hands in a soapy bucket.”

“You’re the one who took the detour to beat Jack home and got my car all dirty.”

“Whatever, turn around.” You’re already lifting your tank over your head before Luke gets the chance to comply, his mouth falling agape before he can control it at the sight of you stood in just your bra and pyjama shorts in front of him. The instruction only registers when your tank top hits him in the face, dropping into his lap so he can look up at your scowl and swivel in his place on the bed. “They’re probably at the mall, she was saying she wanted to go to the art supply store there.”

“So what, we’re gonna just bump into them? Won’t they think it’s weird we’re showing up there after we both said we were staying in today?” He tries not to look into the corner of the room, where he knows the mirror placed there will show him the reflection of you changing - although what’s the use in hiding anything, now? He’s already seen it.

He’s also seen you in your many different bikinis over the past few of weeks. Has been up close and personal, even, holding your body against his out in the lake. 

But your bathing suits aren’t slightly sheer and frilly around the edges, and don’t push up on anything - not that they really need to.

But thinking about that isn’t gonna do him any favours. 

Old men playing chess, animals in the shelter, getting slammed into the boards at high speeds - thinking of those should get his mind back on track.

“Nope, we’re gonna follow them.”

“I thought you said that spying on people is childish.”

“It is when you’re talking about lurking in bushes and hiding behind menus, Luke.”

When he sees you come around the front of the bed to grab your sneakers, he decides on his own terms he can turn back around, careful not to let his eyes linger too long on the expanse of your legs beneath the skirt you’ve now changed into. 

If it wasn’t for the other afternoon spent working together to wash his car, or the evening spent watching movies, sharing a bottle of wine and indulging in those sticky face masks or the way you had quite literally drifted into his arms in the lake the other day, he would probably feel like a creeper for the way his one track mind has persisted. But, despite your efforts to convince him otherwise, he isn’t deluded. 

There’s something brewing between the two of you. 

It’s in the twitch of your lips that now follows every time you roll your eyes, and the magnetised force in which your eyes track him whenever he enters the room, where you had been entirely indifferent before - you’re warming up to him, he can sense it.

“So what’s the plan?”

“I wanna see what it is they keep running off together for,” you shrug as you braid your hair into pigtails in the mirror, your gaze flickering back to him, “Every time we interrupt them, they just keep sneaking back off again. Maybe if we find out what it is they’re doing, we’ll be better at keeping them away from doing it.”

“And how are we supposed to stay hidden?”

“Easy, we have to wear something we usually wouldn’t be caught dead in.”

“I’ve seen you in that exact outfit like twelve times.” He gestures with a lazy hand to the outfit you have on - white t-shirt, navy skirt, socks that go just above your ankles and the same pair of sneakers he must have seen you in every day the last year you were both in college together. 

Not that he was paying that close attention.

“I know. Can I borrow that quarter zip you wore the other day? You know, the one that’s the colour of baby poop? Super hideous, really gross-,”

“Har har, real funny,” he whips the tank top he’s still, for whatever reason, clutching in his hands at you before throwing it onto the bed, and storming toward the door, calling out a, “Let’s go,” over his shoulder and not bothering to check if you’re coming when he starts to make his way downstairs - the echo of your giggling laughter following him down the hallway tells him as much.

—

“Are you sure she said the art supply store?”

Luke’s neck is starting to hurt from craning it above the shelves in search of Ellie’s curls, this being the second art store the two of you have checked. Somehow he’s the one looking out while you peruse the shop, now cooing at a section of crotchet animal kits and pointing them out until he mutters out some half-hearted cute, or nice.

“There aren’t many things I could have confused it for, Luke, unless you know of anything that rhymes with art supplies?” You pick up one of the kits, turning it to assess the difficulty by the pictures on the back before putting it back on the shelf.

“Maybe she said she had parts to buy?”

“Alright, smartass,” You scoff, shouldering past him to make your way toward the exit, clearly having no luck in finding them here. She definitely wouldn’t have parts to buy for anything, she’s hardly Fix-It Felix. “You can buy me lunch and we’ll see if she’s put anything on her story yet.”

“I’m starting to think they’re not even at the mall and you’ve lured me out of the house under false pretences for free food.” The diffidence he’s giving is entirely forced as he drags his feet behind you, following you out of the store. “If you wanted me to take you on a date, you could have just asked. It was probably the stop for a smoothie that had us missing them in the first place.”

You gasp, and before he has the opportunity to retort with something just as annoying, you grab his hand and tug him with you behind one of the giant plants that are beside the coffee stand, keeping a hold of him as you poke your head around the corner.

“There they are,” you whisper back, your fingers still clutching at his as he crowds into the same space to make sure he too is hidden behind the sprawling leaves.

“Oh so hiding behind bushes is alright if it’s your idea?”

“Shh,” you frown, your hand releasing his and pressing over his mouth, “They’ll hear you, Loud Mouth,” and his eyes follow the pointed finger on your other hand to where Ellie and Cole are walking together toward the store you and Luke just left - side by side, sodas in hand, smiling and laughing and nudging at each other. 

In better circumstances, he’d be thinking about how he’s pressed to your back, bending to accommodate for the height difference, your head tilted to make room for his to lean in for a better look, and your hand still resting on his face, not really covering his mouth but more caressing his jaw in an absentminded fashion as you watch the two of them. 

But all he can think about, disturbingly enough, is his brother - and how hurt he’d be to see what’s happening between his supposed best friends. 

“We’re following them, right?” He asks lowly, his face not too far from yours, and when you turn your head to the side to look at him, he feels like your gaze is softer than usual when it takes in how hardened and dark his is.

“Definitely,” you agree, stepping away from him and turning to face him properly. “If you saw me out of the corner of your eye, you wouldn’t know it was me, right?”

Wrong, Luke thinks, but that’s only because he’d be able to pick you out of a line up in a pitch black room by now - blind folded, spun around a few times for good measure and facing the wrong way.

When he had found a Mets jersey on the rack in the Goodwill you had dragged him to in search of a disguise, and your words from earlier about not being caught dead in something had rang in his head, he had thought it was perfect. And then you had waltzed over with the same jersey, and your eyes had lit up.

“We can’t wear the same thing,” he frowned, unable to hold the weight of the expression for too long when he saw just how excited you were getting. “That’s hardly blending in."

“No, it’s perfect!” You exclaimed, “Ellie would never expect me to match anyone!”

He had thought the shirts were too much before you threw in the identical orange baseball caps you had found, and at that point he was cursing whatever scorned woman it was that dumped all her ex’s shit into the thrift store.

The two of you look cute in your matching gear, he can’t deny that, he just wishes you could have found something that made him feel a little less dirty, maybe Wolverine blue and yellow, if you were gonna dress up as a couple.

Luke doesn’t like how you still make his throat dry in Mets gear.

He reaches out to adjust the cap on your head, pulling the bill down to cast more of a shadow over your face, and combining that with the way your braids, the ones you said you’d never usually wear but seem to suit you anyway, come out the bottom of either side of the cap, he figures anyone else would have a hard time immediately placing you. “Probably not,” he shrugs, making sure to keep an eye on the apparent lovebirds still hovering in the entrance of the art store. 

“Great.” You smile victoriously, “Put your arm around me.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“Do I look like I’m kidding?” You scoff, “I’m hardly asking you to ravage me outside the Pretzel Peddler, Hughes, make haste,” you shoo him forward, taking control of the situation and forcing yourself under his arm as the two of you stumble back toward the art store. 

Remaining incognito isn’t entirely hard when the two of you are moving as one, you stuffed under his arm and him able to hide his face in the top of your head if he thinks either Cole or Ellie are likely to see you.

Following them is easy, able to maintain a short enough distance that you can both eavesdrop on their minimal conversation, and there isn’t really a problem until they break apart. 

Ellie goes toward the back of the store, Cole towards the front, and you whisper to Luke that it might be best for you to break apart, too - if you both follow one of them, the other is more likely to catch you - and so you drift after Cole, and he drifts after Ellie, and while the two of you can still see each other, there are a lot of unidentifiable hand gestures in place of where you can no longer talk. That is, until Cole heads further down the other end of the store, and you slip completely out of view.

It’s less fun, spying this way, watching as Ellie browses the shelves, looking over all the sketchbooks until she finds the right one - as if he hasn’t seen a stack of around 5 of them in their room back at the house - swerving so fast on her feet that Luke stumbles on his own to get away, rushing around the bend before she can see him. 

When he rounds the corner of the aisle and sees you heading straight for him, eyes wide and step rushed, he rushes, too, tripping forward until the two of you collide, your stance thankfully much sturdier than his. You grab him by his shirt to make sure he’s steady on his feet before you pull him with you as you fall against the shelf behind you, standing on your tip toes and tugging him down to meet your lips with a surprised grunt.

What the fuck?

Your hands move up to cup at either side of his face, holding him in place as you angle to slot the bill of your cap to the side of his so they don’t bump and fall off, and he loses himself in the warmth of your kiss before he even realises that he’s halfway gone. Your hands cover both of your profiles, and Luke thinks that if you are caught, there’s no way for them to identify the two of you unless Ellie has the orange-red colour and long, supposedly almond - or so you had told him - shape of your nails memorised. Because who would pay such close attention to something like that?

A hand falls to your hip, another to your waist, and he’s teasing your back into an arch with his touch, only distantly hearing surprised exclamations of oh fuck, and sorry, from either side of the aisle.

He pays no mind to the sound of rushed, retreating footsteps, trying to press his tongue between your lips for a further taste of very berry smoothie and sugary balm that he can feel the stickiness of, that he wants his lips to be coated in forever.

He savours the seconds after, where you drag out the show just to make sure Ellie and Cole have actually disappeared, and he pushes his luck one more time, deepening the kiss until you pull away, your hands on his chest shoving purposefully. 

“What was that for?” He asks, breathless and dazed as he takes in your appearance, lips swollen and wet by his doing, pupils dilated.

“PDA makes people uncomfortable, right?” you shrug, like it’s the most obvious explanation for the way you just kissed the life out of him. Like there was nothing else you possibly could have done to get out of that predicament. And his heart thumps as he remembers that those are his words, uttered in a tease way back in the restaurant at the club. “They were hardly gonna stick around and watch, I don’t have Caufield down as a voyeur.”

Luke watches as your eyes drop briefly to his lips, and he swears he sees the flicker of a smile twitch at the corners of your mouth. His fingers come up by instinct, pressing tentatively at the sticky residue that coats the outline of them.

“You tell anyone I did that and I’ll gut you like a fish, Hughes.”

He nods, still in a daze, if he’s honest, and stays in place while you nudge past him to follow in the direction where Ellie and Cole disappeared. 

When he does finally come to, shaking his head to pull himself out of the way his brain is trying to relive the last few minutes, he follows, too - maybe less discreet in his movements, this time, in the hopes that another close call might just gain him another kiss, too.

You’d like to think you have good intuition when it comes to others and their actions. You can see straight through people, a shift in their expression, a twitch in their smile, a glint in their eye - it makes you protective of the people you surround yourself with, keeping only a close-knit group of friends, and keeping everyone else at arms length. 

Friends who you know when they’re upset, or down, need someone around, or need space. It’s how you know Luke has been avoiding you all week, and how you know even more just to leave him to it. 

Not that you’re friends.

It started with long days at the rink - not that you lament his training, but you know he hadn’t been that deep into his regimen so far this summer. Quinn had been the one to drop you off at the club that last couple of days, and Luke hadn’t joined the group when they had played a round of golf and stopped by the bar for some refreshments after.

You’ve seen him around the house still, usually shooting off to God-knows-where, eyes locking in the hall as he passes you like a ship in the night, until he shifts his gaze with an awkward smile.

If he wants to be childish about one stupid, meaningless kiss, you have no choice but to let him.

You’d hardly forced yourself on him. He could have pushed you off if he didn’t want it. Instead, he’d pulled you even closer, even tried to slip you some tongue! And it had kind of been his suggestion in the first place.

You wouldn’t be so bothered about it if you had something to do with Ellie gone for the next week - her little sister’s birthday taking precedent over your summer plans, and the family taking a trip out of state. You can’t even go out, trapped inside due to the unforeseen storm - and you hate thunder, it reminds you too much of all those tumultuous nights locked in your room, listening to your parents fighting, the wind and rain doing little to drown it all out.

But all you have is the house, and with the house comes the movies - the ones he had promised to watch with you.

You had both written down your top ten, yours in his notes, and his in yours, and the damn page has been haunting you every time you unlock your phone. And that’s how you’ve given in so easily. It has nothing to do with the fact you miss him - it’s just pure boredom and curiosity that has you watching Happy Gilmore on your own on a Friday night.

You don’t miss him.

That would be ridiculous.

Luke Hughes is annoying. 

His taste of movies is annoying.

The fact that won’t talk to you is annoying.

“Hey, I thought we were gonna watch this together.”

Or not.

Luke leans against the doorway, possessing the kind of casual indifference that only a man could, frowning and pouting as if he’s not the sole reason you’re cooped up on your own watching a damn movie about golf of all things.

“Thought you were avoiding me,” you bite back, arms crossed over your chest and brows furrowed in frustration. 

“Why would I be avoiding you?” He asks as he steps into the room and closes the door behind him, your eyes darting straight to long, slender fingers wrapped around the handle. 

“Because you kissed me, and then all of a sudden started acting like I don’t exist to you.” You accuse with a pointed glare, figuring one of you has to have the guts to talk about it. 

“Actually, you kissed me,” he smirks, perching himself on the edge of your bed, “And then told me in graphic detail you’d pretty much murder me if I ever spoke about it again, so I,” he frowns, “Didn’t.”

You can’t help but scowl at how stupid that sounds. He can’t seriously think you would murder him. If you were the murdering type in the first place, you’d have done it long ago. You even tell him as much.

“I don’t know, you had this scary look in your eye, kind of didn��t want to test that theory,” he shrugs, reaching in the pocket of his hoodie and throwing a bag over to you. 

M&Ms. Your favourite.

“You gonna scoot over?” He asks, raising a brow and widening his eyes as if he’s pleading, as if you’ve been the one giving him the cold shoulder.

You roll your eyes and shuffle across the bed, making room for him beside you that he occupies way too quick, legs stretching out in front of him, all the way down the bed, as he gets comfortable.

You try to focus on the movie, as if you have any clue what’s been happening so far, anyway, but you can see him out of the corner of your eye, an arm tucked behind his head, his chest stretched out, and his jaw tensing as he chews on the candy he’s already stealing from you.

He’s had a haircut. Shorter on the sides, and it makes his face look a little more defined. Still curly - maybe even curlier - and softer than before, in a way that you’d want to run your hands through it, if you were a crazy person, of course.

And he smells good, too.

You’re starting to think this has been his plan all along - for distance to make your wretched heart grow fonder, or whatever - and you find yourself tensing your own jaw as you grind your teeth and try to tune back into whatever Adam Sandler is yapping about. 

“I sort of was avoiding you,” he admits, and you can still see him out of the corner of your eye, looking down at you, now, although you don’t look back.

“I know.”

“I’m sorry,” he apologises, shifting a little to face you more, “I thought you might have felt weird about kissing me.”

“I didn’t.” 

“Okay then.”

“Alright.”

“We can talk about it, if you want?” He suggests, and that’s finally when you look at him, with his lips twisted nervously and his brow raised, anticipating your response. 

What’s there to even talk about? You kissed him as a distraction. He knows that. You know that. 

“I’m good.” You tell him, a short, forced smile to ease the tension before he smiles back.

“I know something we can talk about,” he leans in, “Considering how little you care about this movie.”

“Yeah, what’s that?”

“How you had a big fat crush on me in college,” he smirks, eyes darting between yours, the flash from the tv screen highlighting all the different hues of blues and greens in his irises.

He’s not gonna catch you out, though.

“You’re delusional.” You tell him, your own eyes narrowing, almost like a defence mechanism. He seems to be quite good at reading you, and you’re not letting him in that easy.

“So you keep saying,” he pouts, pensively, “But then it’s you never talked to me, Luke, and I remember small random details about you, Luke!”

“I don’t sound like that,” you frown, taking slight offence to the squeaky voice he puts on, more than likely to distract you from the closing distance. He speaks again before you can realise you really should be putting more effort into denying such ridiculous accusations, before he completely slanders your good name. 

“You’ve been avoiding me all week and I missed you, Luke-,”

You don’t know why your mouth is all of a sudden on his, but if you take a second to think about it, you’ll spiral out. His lips are soft, and your noses slot perfectly beside each other - no painful bumps or clumsy collisions. Just a plain, normal kiss between two people who tolerate each other. That’s all.

When you part, his eyes drift open softly, his lashes - infuriatingly long as they are - flutter open, and his irises glaze over as if he’s under a spell. 

“That was-,”

“To shut you up,” you mutter, rolling your own eyes and forcing a scowl. “You were starting to give me a headache.”

He nods, that dumb look still in his eyes, and you feel your jaw clenching almost achingly at how it makes you feel.

“And I care very deeply about Gilmore’s happiness, so if you could cut it out with your yapping, I’d really appreciate it.”

“His name is Happy-,”

“I didn’t ask.”

When Luke is on the ice, most of the noise around him usually tunes itself out. Aside from the scrape of his skates, and the thudding of his heart, he can usually dial out the crowd, the chanting, the booing, the chirping, whatever it may be - all distractions to the end goal.

The one noise he never can ignore, though, is that of the goal horn, blearing throughout the arena, bouncing off of every corner until it hits him like a freight train, and he thinks they ring a little louder when it’s him that scores.

And with that horn, he can fine tune himself back into his surroundings. To shouts and cheers and applause, a sea of red and white jerseys jumping up, the Devils logo brandished across their chests, and his work being praised by the masses.

He somehow has the power to zero in on you, too. Arms raised, up a little in the stands, not too far that you’re just a speck, but not too close that you’d be a distraction.

A wide smile on your face, adoration in your eyes, and 43 on your arm. 

“Luke!” Your lips read, drowned out by the crowd, but he can still make it out, calling out to him like you’re the only other person in the room. “C’mon, Luke!” 

He smiles, as big as he ever has before, and points straight at you, dropping a wink like you could possibly catch it from out in the stands, and taking a bow.

“Hughes, you big lump, wake up!”

He groans as he’s shaken from his sleep, soft hands gripping at his arms and jolting him awake.

“What?” He doesn’t open his eyes, not yet, but he thinks it’s the weight of his furrowed eyebrows keeping them closed. 

“I need a favour,” you whisper.

“No.”

“You don’t even know what it is.”

“It’s 2am. I don’t do favours before 9.”

“C’mon, please?” He opens one eye to your pleading face, and then another, when he catches the teary reflection of the moonlight in your eyes.

“What is it?” He straightens up, rubbing the sleep from his eyelids and straining to make the rest of you out in the dark. 

“I need you to look at the window in my room, it’s whistling.”

“It’s just the storm, it gets like that when it’s windy,” he sighs, sinking back down a little into his pillows. He had thought you were in danger, or something.

“Can’t you fix it?” You plead, soft fingers still squeezing a little at his bicep, and his chest starts to feel heavy just from the tone of your voice - but it’s 2am. You had him up until midnight watching Wall-E, and he has a morning skate with his dad at 6am. 

“Do I look like a handyman?” He huffs, also a little aggrieved at the fact you had disrupted his rather nice dream. “Just go to sleep and ignore it.”

“I can’t.” You whine, “I can’t sleep if there’s a storm, they freak me out. And I can’t ignore it when it’s literally screaming at me through a broken window. And I’m on my own in there, it’s scary.”

Luke presses his palm firm into the socket of his closed eyes, trying to rub away the exhaustion that is urging every fibre of his being to fall straight back asleep. 

He can’t fix the window. It’s been like that for as long as him and his brothers have lived here - always the dud room left to whoever rocks up last to the house - and even if he could, he’s comfortable, and warm, and if his bare feet touch the cold, hardwood floor, he won’t be able to get himself to drift back off. 

He sighs, shuffling beneath the sheets before grasping them and flipping them over, making room beside him and muttering a grumpy, demanding, “Get in.”

“Luke,” you whine, and he can see your pout even through his closed eyes - lips plump and plush and if he gets even a glimpse he’s going to start thinking about kissing them, again. “You’re really not gonna help me?”

“I don’t offer my super comfy bed up to just anybody,” he reasons, making a little more room, “C’mon, you can barely hear the rain in here, it’s this or the couch downstairs.”

“Can’t you take the couch and I take your comfy bed?”

Luke opens one eye to look at you, eyes glimmering nervously in the crack of moonlight that sneaks through the curtains, lip tugged between your teeth, and relents, immediately. “Do you want me to take the couch?”

He could probably go sleep in your bed, if you’re really that bothered. He doesn’t do too well with noises while he sleeps, but he will if he has to - if that’s what makes you feel better. But you had just said it was scary being alone, and he’s counting on that to make a case for himself to keep his super comfy bed in his whistle-less bedroom.

“No,” you grumble, shoving at his arm, “Move over a little more.”

He relents, making as much room as he can for you to crawl into his bed before he flips the sheets back over on top of you, waiting for you to get comfortable before he melts back into place.

His legs extending into yours is purely accidental, but he doesn’t move them when you don’t flinch away, taking a second to adjust his positioning until he realises something. 

“You’re not wearing pants.”

“Neither are you.” You mumble back straight away, turning to face him, the bare skin of your calves brushing his as you move.

“It’s my bed,” he shrugs, his body on its side and his arm beneath his pillow, the space cramped now that you’re both squeezed in, and he’s trying to give you room, but he swears you have space on the other side. “I don’t wear pants to bed.”

“I don’t either.” 

“What if there’s a fire?”

“I think I’d rather succumb to the flames than let your brothers see me in my panties.”

He just hums, sleepily, trying not to overthink how you wouldn’t mind him seeing you in them. He closes his eyes and tries to ignore the press of your skin to his. 

“Do you want me to go put pants on, Luke, would that make you happy?”

“Don’t ask such a ridiculous question.” He huffs, sinking into his pillows and getting himself back into the right position to drop back off into a deep slumber. “Go to sleep.”

The soft patter of rain against the window lulls him, and he slowly feels you relax beside him, a few minutes of silence settling between the two of you - comforting and still - before you break it. 

“Luke?” You whisper, this time barely audible, like you don’t even want to be heard - and it’s that thought that has him ignoring you, sleep clutching his eyes closed anyway, so close to drifting back off. 

He feels your body shuffle against the mattress, still not enough to lure him back into full consciousness, but he’s aware enough to know your every move.

And he’d like to think he can predict them, imagining you shuffling to get comfy and hoping he’s too deep in his sleep to care if you nudge him while doing so.

But he could never predict the soft press of your lips to the corner of his mouth, and the gentle, almost non-existent muttering of a thank you against his skin. 

He only lets himself smile when he can feel you settle back into the bed, body laid beside him, bare legs brushing against his under the sheets.

You are so welcome, he thinks, that soft smile curving into something much deeper as he succumbs to sleep, body melting into an oozy, gooey, consuming mess beside your own. 

Luke should have known you’d get your own back on him for the whole avoiding thing.

The two of you had been sweet for a solid week, movie nights every other night, especially after you had shared his bed, you’d even made him lunch to come back to the day after. And he had started driving you to and from work, again.

And it’s the drive home from work one day that he sees something in you switch.

“It’s just gonna be a couple people, you’ll probably even know some of the girls from college.”

“It’s your house, Luke, you don’t have to explain your parties to me.” You shift your knees back to face the dash, where they had just been angled toward him, and you cross your arms against your chest. 

“We can pick back up on movie night tomorrow, I don’t have any training all day so we can do a marathon, if you want.”

“Ellie’s back today, so I don’t know.”

He frowns, tightening his fingers around the wheel as he watches you retreat all of a sudden, like you’re annoyed with him, or something.

And then as soon as he pulls up outside the house, you’re climbing out of the car before he even has a chance to come around and open the door for you, storming up the driveway and disappearing inside.

He tries not to let it get to him. Tries to lose himself in the festivities of the night - a house party thrown on whim at the discovery that most of the brothers’ mutual friends were in town. He was excited to see his boys from Michigan, Ethan, Dylan, Luca and Jacob, who all climb out of Ethan’s truck with a 6-pack in hand, and crowd around Luke, embracing him with brotherly pats on his back and ushering him into the kitchen to partake in their pre game ritual - a round of shots to line their stomachs. 

He still keeps a close eye on you once the party is underway. Watches you and Ellie, watches when Cole joins the two of you, and you laugh at whatever dumb jokes he’s trying to tell you. Watches your gaze flicker his way throughout the night, and leave just as quickly, and he has to shrug off the chirps of his friends when they notice, too.

He later watches you catch up with a couple of the girls coming from your sorority, and that’s around the time he loses you, lost in a round of beer pong that fills his bladder quicker than he could have anticipated.

He excuses himself up to his room, the music dying down the further upstairs he gets, and relieves himself with an inebriated bop of his head to whatever melody he can still hear blasting through the floorboards. 

He zips his jeans back up, and ambles over to the sink, washing his hands under the faucet until the sound of his door opening has his heart falling into the pit of his stomach. 

“Jesus,” he gasps, shutting off the water and turning to face where you’re stepping into the room and closing the door behind yourself. “You ever heard of knocking? What are you doing upstairs?”

“Was just checking you weren’t like jerking off in here or something,”

“What if I was, were you planning on watching?”

“Yeah, right,” you scoff, pulling a face to feign some sort of offence, but Luke watches as you fidget, tucking your hair behind your ears and shuffling on your feet. 

“Like you’ve been watching me all night,” he smirks, tossing the towel he had used to dry his hands back onto the hook and taking a step into your space, backing you against the counter, your shoes no longer shuffling along the floor. It feels like it’s been days now that you’ve been off with him, even though it’s been a mere few hours, but in those hours, he’s had a lot of time to think about your relationship, or lack thereof.  “Think I haven’t seen you? Can’t take those pretty eyes off of me, can you?”

He’d first noticed when you came downstairs with Ellie, earlier, pinned to her side and gossiping about something, no doubt catching up on her week away. You kept glancing his way, subtly at first, eyes darting over and shifting back just as quick to your best friend, faking interest and nodding along until you looked back over. Your efforts were more noticeable as the two of you moved around different corners of the room, interacting with different groups and still meeting eyes across the expanse of space between you and him. 

His heart jumped every time.

And then Victoria had arrived, just before he had been recruited to play beer pong - an old hookup from his college days. She had always been more of a friend than anything else, and Luke had no interest in reigniting whatever dampened spark they once had, she has a boyfriend now, anyway, but when her hand grazed his arm, and he looked over to see your glare zeroed in on the exact spot she was touching him, he thought he’d have a little fun with it.

Nothing too extreme, a few loud laughs, a little longer spent with her than initially anticipated, but she had been more than happy to regale him with stories about her new relationship, so pretending to pay attention didn’t seem like such a bad idea if it was going to make you do something.

He had a sneaking suspicion as to what had turned your mood, earlier, and he was about to have fun testing his theory - that you had been jealous at the mere mention of other girls being at the house.

He didn’t think it would culminate in you following him all the way up to his room, confronting him in his bathroom with nobody else around, but he’s hardly mad about it, now.

“Shut up,” you scowl, but your tone is weak, and Luke knows he’s got you. Chin tilted up to meet his eyes in defiance, gaze locked on his as he moves closer, and he’s thankful, for the first time tonight, that the boys had forced him to take those shots when the party started.

He wouldn’t have the courage to challenge you like this, otherwise - an inebriated cockiness taking over, puffing out his chest and filling him with the same sort of misplaced bravado he’s been convincing himself to muster all week.

“You already know how to make me.” He mutters, lowly, the proximity of your face to his giving his tone a breathiness that he hopes comes across more seductive than slurred. His mind is stuck on that kiss from the other night, when he had apparently irritated you so much that you felt that was your only option. 

You blink slow, eyes dropping to his lips, and before he can blink, himself, you close the distance.

This is different to before - incomparable to a kiss given just to hide your faces, one just to stop him from talking and another when you had thought he wasn’t conscious. 

This is heated, and intentional, and intense. 

Dainty fingers clutch at the front of his shirt, pinching slightly at his skin before taking a hold of the fabric, and there’s no possible way for you to play this off as something less.

Your lips are firm, slotted against his, and moving before he knows it - his tongue licking at the seams until they part, and you grant him access to the sweet taste of fruity liquor inside your mouth. 

Large hands take residence on your hips, sliding daringly backward until he’s gripping at your ass, long fingers stretching down to trace the hem of your skirt, denim thick but not immune to his absentminded efforts to chase the feeling of more. 

He’s expecting you to come to your senses, anticipating the grip of your hands to turn into a shove, and the sweetness of your taste to turn sour when you start to yell at him, fire in your eyes and venom on your tongue - but all he hears is you moaning into his mouth, all he feels is the press of your torso against his as your back arches into his touch, his fingertips grazing the top of your thigh as your skirt moves in his hold.

He’s greedy with the way he touches you after that, hands cupping, fingers kneading, nails scratching even just to leave his mark, and he barely notices yours slipping down, down, down until the cold press of your fingertips grazes his abdomen, stomach tensing at your touch. 

He groans a little, his movements halting as you manage to distract him from his ministrations, using the leverage you have on his body to press and push until your lips part - swollen and wet with his spit.

His heart thuds in his chest, thump thump thump echoing in his head as he watches you - holds his breath and stares at you with his own lips parted, the taste of you lingering in a way he doesn’t want to swallow too soon. 

He waits for your face to turn, for that hypnotised look in your eyes to turn into a glare, the distance between you bringing some much needed clarity - but the shift never comes.

Instead, you push yourself away from the counter, and he finds himself looking straight down as your hands make their way back to the hard ridges of his stomach.

“What are you doing?” He stutters as your fingers start to tickle lower.

“I wanna give you a hand.”

“Give me-,” he splutters, his own hand stopping yours in its tracks. “Am I dreaming right now? Is this a trick?”

“No,” you persist, pushing your hands despite his weak, half-hearted efforts to stop them. “You did me a favour, why can’t I do one back?” 

“Because that’s not-,” He can’t believe he’s trying to turn this down, the lump in his throat protesting the words that try to come up. You just kissed him. You just let him hike your skirt up and push you against the bathroom counter, let his fingers go so far beyond the realm of reality that he thinks he’s still lost in a dream - and he can’t figure out why he’s even questioning it, anymore. “There’s a pretty big difference between me letting you sleep in my bed and you jerking me off,”

“It’s only a big deal if you make it one, Luke.” You shrug, pausing at the waistband of his pants. Every nerve from his ribs to his toes tingles, the teasing touch of the tips of your fingers sparking something unshakable within him. “Do you want me to help you out or not?”

“Are you high or something?”

“No,” you chuckle, meeting his eyes again - sparkling and beautiful, a hidden vulnerability flashing across them at the insistence of his hesitant rejection. “Are you? You’re really gonna turn me down to just jack yourself off in here on your own?”

“Please don’t call it that.” He pleads, the last thing he needs right now is any sort of reminder of his brother. Not when you have your hands on him. Not when you could conceivably get on your knees right before him. Not when his deepest darkest fantasies could play out after so many years of pining after you. “No.”

“No?”

“No.” He lets out a panicked stammer. “Not no. I meant no, like no to your question, not no period.” 

“What?” You step back with a frustrated huff, taking your hands away, close enough still that he can reach out and grab them, holding them between the both of you.

“I want-,” Good lord, he wants a lot. He can still taste you on his tongue, still feel the press of your kiss on his own swollen lips, and his head is spinning so far out of control he doesn’t think he’ll be able to knock any sense back into it any time soon. “Are you sure?”

“Oh my God, Hughes, just pull your pants down and let’s get on with it.”

Luke pulls you in for one more kiss before he relinquishes all control, and hums and whines as you work his zipper down, the sound bouncing off the tiles and reverberating around his skull.

He doesn’t know how you can so easily go back to normal after. 

He can’t understand how you could just lift yourself back onto your feet when the two of you were finished, adjust your skirt around your hips, and leave him alone in the bathroom, panting, flushed and barely coherent, all evidence of your tryst swallowed down like the moans you had forced him to suppress - all except the faint bruises on the lowest part of his stomach that you had sucked into his skin, the ones he hopes grow darker as the days go on, the ones he feels pulsing as he rejoins his friends in the kitchen. 

He had once again promised not to utter a word to anyone - but it doesn’t stop the thousands of them that swirl around his brain after, the ones that linger there all through the night, resurface through the week, and etch themselves into the very core of his being. 

Thousands of words in hundreds of languages, mixing to form romanticised poems he might never understand.

All he does understand, is that he’s so far gone for you now, it isn’t even funny. 

Far gone is starting to seem like the understatement of the century.

Luke can’t get enough of being around you, and it’s so detached now from the two of you only ever hanging out to scheme about Jack and Ellie that he can’t even remember the last efforts you made to do anything about their relationship.

He’s now just focused on whatever relationship the two of you are building between yourselves.

Watching movies in his bed, comparing commentary on your favourites, asking for his opinion, and him asking for yours. And he likes how gentle you are with the things he loves. Movies are kind of his thing, and sharing them with someone else - sitting and watching them and waiting for some kind of reaction, good or bad - could be intimidating with anyone else. 

But you’re so attentive. You ask questions, you remember things, and you try to understand why he might love a film, and try to see things from his perspective, rather than stamping your own opinion over his and ruling anything out.

You’re open-minded, even though you pretend not to be. You’d given Happy Gilmore a second chance, even, and Luke never had you pegged as the second chance type.

You talk a lot more to him on your drives to and from work - not that you didn’t talk before, but this is different, entirely. You have actual discussions, around more than just what’s happening at the house, or what’s happening at work. 

The two of you talk about college, about your major, your plans for after school. You talk about hockey, about Jersey, about his friends and teammates back there, and the life he’s built away from the one you pretend you never knew. 

And the way he feels about you starts to consume him in ways he never thought possible. In ways that make him sort of understand where Jack had been coming from all those years, when he’d never shut up about his feelings for Ellie, and how he thought about her all the time, and wanted to be with her 24/7.

It’s what has him hovering around at the club after he and Quinn had played a round of golf, waiting outside for Quinn to give the keys back for their caddy, and spotting you chatting to Cara at the side door to the restaurant.

He waves as soon as you see him, and his heart jumps when you immediately excuse yourself to skip over, a bright smile on your face that he never thought could be directed his way.

“Hey!” You greet him, cheerily, ponytail swaying behind you as you come to a stop in front of him. 

“What time are you getting off?” He asks, foregoing any small talk and cutting straight to the chase. 

“I’m on the lunch shift today, so 3,” you pout, checking the watch on your wrist that he knows reads just past 1. “You don’t have to wait around though, I can catch a ride from somebody else,”

“No, I’ll take you home.” He assures you, “I need to go to the mall, I’ve got to get a present for a baby shower, I was hoping you’d help me.”

“I don’t know how much help I’d be, babies give me the heebie-jeebies.”

“Yeah, same,” he chuckles, “Maybe we could grab dinner or something, instead?”

“I was gonna pick up a dress for the party next week, so maybe we could do that first?”

“And then dinner?” He asks, a hopeful raise of his eyebrows that is spurred on by the way you’re biting back a smile.

“Yes, Luke, then dinner.” You chuckle, beaming up at him when his face breaks out into a full-blown grin.

“Sick,” he replies, “Yeah, cool,” he nods as he watches you step away, amusement gleaming in your eyes, “I’ll be out here at 3.”

“I’ll see you then.”

Luke watches as you make your way back to the side door of the restaurant, meeting your eye when you look back at him and relishing in the way he can catch the flush of your cheeks all the way from the fountain. 

He smiles to himself as he turns on one foot, light in his step and light in his head, nodding to the guy who is painting the railings leading up to the club foyer and swinging on his feet as he waits for his brother.

If he had a little less self-awareness, he thinks he could start leaping and swinging from the nearest lamp post like a scene straight out of Singing In The Rain.

He hasn’t felt elation like this in a long time.

He hadn’t uttered the word, exactly, but this is as close to a date as he might get, and his entire body is buzzing at the thought of it. 

“Are you coming?” Quinn calls out as he descends the steps at the front of the club, keys in one hand and a water bottle in the other.

“Uhh,” Luke drags out as he not-so-subtly looks back to where you and Cara are talking by the side door. “I think I’m gonna check out the gym.”

“You know it’s just a bunch of old guys on machines in there, right? Plus, I thought we were going in the morning with the rest of the guys?”

“Right,” he mutters absentmindedly, “I meant the pool.”

“You hate indoor pools.”

“The sauna?”

“Your little crush is getting out of hand, huh?” Quinn chuckles, elbowing at Luke’s side to get his attention back.

“It’s not a crush.” Luke huffs, lips pouted as he tears his eyes away from you with great effort. 

“I think we’re past the point of you denying it, Luke,” his older brother gestures to the wall Luke had been staring at when he came outside, “You’re literally watching paint dry to pass the time until she finishes work-,”

“No, I mean like I had a crush on her,” Luke sighs, “Before this summer, when I just thought she was pretty and hot and I could never pluck up the courage to do anything about it. It doesn’t feel like a crush anymore. Or maybe it does, I don’t know, I kinda feel like she’s crushing me, to be honest.”

He gives a nervous laugh when he says it, but it’s not enough to cover up the way he really feels - not when it comes to his big brother, who puts his keys back in his pocket just so he can spare a hand to reach out and pinch at Luke’s cheeks, teasing, “Lukey’s in love,” before he swats him away.

“Hardly,” he scoffs in denial, although he doesn’t really understand why he’s fighting the thought of it so hard.

It’s not exactly a preposterous idea. Love might be an overestimation - you haven’t exactly let him all the way in - but like seems like an understatement. Obsessed seems dramatic. Infatuated?

“I don’t know, I like spending time with her, like talking to her, is all,” he shrugs. He likes a lot more than that, but confiding in Quinn after how his last encounter with Jack about the whole thing had gone has his back up, a little. “I feel like she might like me too.”

It’s the first time he’s said it aloud to anyone else. He’s chirped you about it enough - taken note of the various shades of pink he can flush your cheeks when he does, darker and darker as the days go on - but he’s been abiding by your request of staying quiet about any of the specifics.

And it’s been hard. Oversharing is kind of his thing, usually, and keeping information from his brothers isn’t exactly something he loves doing, not when he’s been cursing Jack all summer for doing the same.

“Jack thinks she’s using me. He doesn’t like her.”

“Jack doesn’t like that he can’t beat her. Like he can fire a thousand shots at her and nothing goes in, he isn’t used to that.”

“Oh, but I am?” Luke scoffs, although he isn’t entirely sure if he is offended. “Are you calling me a loser?”

“No, Luke, I’m not calling you a loser.” He chuckles. “It’s like hockey, right, you and me, we chase people down. Don’t give in until we’re caught up and we can disarm someone. That isn’t Jack’s game. He’s usually the one being chased, you know? Usually the one ahead.”

“He’s not that bad on the other side of the blue line,” Luke scoffs, although he gets where his eldest brother is coming from. He hasn’t really thought about it in that context - that you and Jack don’t get along because you’re alike - but it makes sense now that he thinks about it.

“He’s not like you, though. You get some weird thrill out of going after people you have no business going after, you have since you were younger, taking down kids 4 or 5 years older than you and twice the size for fun. Makes sense you’d want someone so far out of your league.”

Luke looks back over to where you’re still stood with Cara, and just manages to catch your eye before you look away, pretending he hadn’t caught you. The smile erupts slowly onto his features, close-lipped and soft, but he feels the joy of it all throughout his body. 

“I think I’m wearing her down.”

Stolen glances across whatever room the two of you happen to be in, smiles that you’ve only ever sent his way, feather-light but purposeful kisses on the corner of his mouth when you think he’s asleep, seeking him out in his bathroom after seeing him with someone else - yeah, he’s getting there.

“Good for you, Luke,” Quinn chuckles, patting his brother on the back, “As long as you know what you’re getting yourself into.”

He does. At least he thinks so. 

You feel weird.

It’s the only word you can think to describe the mood you’ve been in for the past week.

Well, weird and off.

You can’t quite put your finger on it, either, but it’s throwing you off your game. 

There had been a second the other day where you had thought you might have gotten to the bottom of things - when you’d come inside from sunbathing with Ellie and had found Luke in his room, packing a bag for his trip to Vegas for some award ceremony he and Quinn were nominated for. 

Clarity had hit you like a brick to the head, panic swirling in your chest at the thought of him being gone for a whole week, but then he’d looked up from where he was perched on the ground, had given you a lopsided grin, and had ushered you over to help - and the speed in which you had started to feel normal again quickly diminished any thoughts of Luke being the cause of your weirdness.

But it has been hard to shake, even as unidentifiable as it may be, and the longer you feel this way, the worse it gets, bubbling up like anxiety that keeps your jaw tight, and your lips pressed together.

It culminates the night of the boys’ party - a celebration of Quinn and Luke’s nominations, and a good luck send-off of sorts that Jack had wanted to throw before they left. 

You had started the night off fine - kind of attached at Luke’s hip, him muttering teasing remarks into your ear about you clinging to him ‘cause you’re gonna miss him when he’s gone, and catching up with a couple of the guys from Michigan. You might have even been having fun at one point, smiling into the red cup Luke had placed in your hand at the beginning of the night that you still hadn’t drained, as you watched him shoot pool and he kept smirking up at you as he leant over the table.

You shouldn’t be feeling anxious when he looks at you like that, but God, do you feel something.

And then your phone starts to buzz in your pocket, and assuming it’s Ellie, who, once again, is away with her family - this time in Europe for a couple of weeks - you pull it out.

But it isn’t Ellie.

It’s your dad.

And the heart that had been thudding in your chest at the mere capture of Luke’s attention just moments ago, is now dropping out of your ass.

It isn’t a call, thank God - you don’t think you could handle that, feeling the way you currently feel - but an email.

Your dad hasn’t called in a while. He rarely texts, either.

This is how it is, now. Emails and Facebook posts you happen to come across, like you’re some distant co-worker or an old family friend.

Not his only daughter. Not the kid he abandoned in search of a better life.

When you open it up, there’s no subject, no body either to the email, just an attachment. 

A family photo, him, his new wife, and their two boys, stood in front of the Eiffel Tower, edited into a postcard that reads, Wish You Were Here!

And resentment bubbles within you.

I could have been, if you’d have invited me.

You shove your phone back into your pocket and do a quick glance around the room to check if anyone might have noticed the tears welling in your eyes, but you’re safe. 

Luke’s attention is on the table, the rest of the boys’ attention is on him, and you slip away before he has the chance to meet your eye - to see straight through you in the way only he knows how, and make your way to the kitchen in the search of something stronger.

When you push your way through the door, whatever weird feeling that has been consuming you for the past week culminates into something bigger.

Something darker, and heavier, and angrier, like a tornado of emotions tearing through your very core, picking up every last bit of restraint on it’s way as your eyes narrow onto it’s next target.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me.”

Jack pulls back in a daze from the blonde who’s face he was just suctioned to, brows furrowed as his intoxicated gaze zeroes in on you.

He slurs out your name, glaring like he’s trying to get his eyes to focus before they roll dramatically, and he runs a hand through his messy hair.

“Jesus, what do you want?”

“Maybe for you to have some respect, or is that a little too much to ask?”

“Could you give us a minute?” He asks the girl in front of him, who scowls at you before walking off, shouldering past you to exit the kitchen as you stare Jack down. “Why are you being such a psycho?”

“I’m sick of you messing Ellie around, Hughes, I’m not gonna just stand around and let you play with her heart like she means nothing to you anymore.”

“She’s not even here,” he scoffs, “She won’t find out unless you tell her.”

“And you think I won’t? She’s my friend, Jack, we tell each other everything.”

“Yeah? She tell you how she’s into Cole?”

“No. Because she isn’t.” You’d cleared that up with her a while ago, asking her straight up if something was going on - and she had said no. She wouldn’t lie to you.

“Then why do I keep getting told that she is? Why is everyone seeing them out together all the time? Why is she texting him tonight and not me?”

“Maybe ‘cause you’re making it your mission to stick your tongue down other girls throats all the time. This entire summer, you’ve done nothing but avoid your feelings so much that maybe she thinks you’re not into her. Maybe you need to pull your head out of your ass and talk to her like a grown fucking adult and stop playing stupid games with her heart.”

“You’re one to talk.”

“And you should be fucking listening. If you keep messing her around, you’ll lose her for good,” you threaten, with a jab of a pointed finger into his chest.

Jack looks flushed, cheeks pink, lips puffy, eyes red-rimmed and hair a mess as he looks back at you - and it’s like he’s functioning in slow motion, you can practically see the cogs turning in his inebriated brain as he comes up with some way to jab back, some way to make you hurt the way the thought of Ellie leaving does to him, just to avoid admitting you’re right.

“What, like how you keep messing my brother around?” 

“Excuse me?” You scoff, stepping back when he jabs a finger at you.

“You heard me,” he snarls, “Leading him on like some lovesick puppy while you couldn’t care less about him.”

“Is that what he said?”

“No, funnily enough he won’t even talk to me about you,” Jack’s glare sends a shiver down your spine, one that overrides the buzz of pride at him following your instruction - you know this level of animosity comes from the swirling of intoxication and frustration, he doesn’t actually hate you, the two of you have gotten on somewhat in the past couple of weeks, despite him making out otherwise, but this is different. This makes you feel small, like a speck of something fragile, ready to be stomped and crushed under his irate foot. And it’s not the kind of small you usually like. The kind of small where you compare yourself to the bigger picture. No, this hurts. Aches. Itches in a way that you need to relieve, immediately. “But I bet that’s your doing, because that’s how toxic you are, making it so he can’t even confide in his brother about his feelings. Feelings that you just want to stampede all over like they’re nothing. Break his heart like it’s some kind of sport.”

That isn’t true. 

That’s not who you are.

That’s not what you’re doing, not what you want.

You know how it feels to have someone break your heart like that, you’d never do that to Luke.

“Go fuck yourself, Jack.” Is all you can mutter out in defence of yourself before you’re shouldering past him, barging through the uninterested crowd and stomping out of the kitchen.

You think it’s the need to feel bigger that has you poking your head into every room in search of him - the person who had ingrained the notion of needing to feel bigger to feel better to your memory - only able to find comfort in a mop of messy curls that sits on top of a head higher than the rest. It’s what has you grasping at his hand when you do find him outside on the deck, dragging him wordlessly - and thankfully enough, without protest - back through the rest of his house, and to his room before you push him down onto the bed, instructing him to move up and sit against the headboard before you straddle his lap.

You kiss away his questions, fingers clumsily working at the buttons of his shirt until you can tear it off, swallowing down his confusion into your own mouth as he shrinks into your advances.

When you start to grind down into him is when he gains back some level of consciousness, large hands grasping at your waist and pushing until your lips part with a loud smack. And you’re both breathless, panting against each others mouths as he tries to figure you out, looking up at you with a furrowed brow and swollen lips.

“What’s going on?” He asks, eyes darting around you in concern.

Concern that makes you feel larger than life - makes your chest expand and your heart swell and your lungs fill with so much air that you feel like you might float away. To have someone look at you like that, care about you like that, want you for more than what bare bones you’re offering to him, what everyone else wants you for, it makes you feel gigantic.

Like a hot air balloon, carried to far away lands by the flames of his affections.

And if they shut off, you’ll drop into oblivion. Breaking suddenly from the airy mechanics that keep you afloat, plunging at great speeds until you inevitably hit the earth with an almighty, painful splat.

You never did like falling.

“I want you.”

His face scrunches a little as he thinks - thinks a little too hard for someone who’s been pursuing you all summer - and before he can question it, you reach for the hem of your top, pulling it off until you’re left in just your lacy bra, your skirt riding up as your legs fall to either side of his hips.

It’s the most you’ve ever given him aside from being around him in your bikini and the one time you had changed and he hadn’t turned around quick enough, and before you can feel self conscious about it, you feel his eyes rake down the long expanse of your bare skin.

And the way he looks at you now makes you feel even bigger - a hunger in his eyes that tells you he could spend the rest of his time on earth working his way through every inch of you, savouring whatever parts of you that you’ll let him get a taste of, and he’ll never let you go.

“Please?” You’re already technically on your knees, what harm can begging do if it just makes him do something?

You don’t want to talk about it like you know he’s about to ask, don’t want to have to explain why you sought him out, why, for once, you didn’t care that people might see the two of you holding hands, you marching him to his bedroom and him following like exactly what Jack had said - a lovesick puppy.

You just want him. Want to feel bigger. Want to feel wanted. 

Want to give in to the part of you that has been dying to fold to him all summer, to let him close that gap, to break down the barriers you’ve been desperately guarding.

He cranes his neck to press a sweet kiss to your lips - one lacking the intensity from before, but not the adoration he always manages to pack in there - the kind that twists at your gut until you can’t take it anymore.

“Please,” you whisper against his lips, kissing him again. “Give me something to hold onto when you’re gone.”

You figure if you use his own words against him - words uttered teasingly, but truthfully, earlier - he’ll give in.

The thought of losing this, of him leaving and finding something better, of distance being wedged between you for the first time all summer and finally giving him clarity, making him see you for what everyone else thinks you are.

Maybe if you give him what he really wants he’ll hold on a little longer.

It’s not like you don’t want it, too.

“You only had the one drink?” He asks, responding with fervour, the pressure of his kiss starting to build. “The one I got you?”

“Didn’t even finish it,” you kiss him again, “Stone cold sober,” and again, fingers trailing between you to work at the button on his jeans, “Want you now.”

“Yeah,” he lifts his hips and helps you pull his pants down, a clumsy shuffle to temporarily part while he wriggles them off, “Want you, too.” He mutters before leaning in to kiss at the corner of your mouth, “Wanted you for so long.”

There’s a voice inside that itches to tell him, I know, but it’s quickly shut up by another - a voice that’s louder, a voice you can’t ignore anymore when it comes to Luke.

A voice that tells you, you know nothing.

>PART THREE<

[harrysfolklore]

buzzcut - blurb

this kinda sucks but it was on my drafts sooo why not, hope you enjoy !

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

//

"I wonder how would I look with my head shaved." Harry randomly said one night both of you were cuddled up in bed.

"Where is that coming from, lovie?" You looked up at him, curious by his sudden statement.

"Dunno, I've never in my almost 30 years of age had a buzzcut," he shrugged, "I feel like It's part of manhood to shave your head at least once."

"Your manhood is just fine," you rolled your eyes with affection and pecked his chin, "But if you want to know how you'd look with no hair, you can always look for those AI pictures your fans have been making lately."

Harry laughed and kissed the crown of your head, leaving the conversation at that and focusing on the romantic comedy movie you picked for the night.

Days passed by and you soon forgot about your conversation and Harry didn't bring up his desire to shave his head again, so when he mentioned that he wanted to get a haircut you assumed that he was getting his usual trim.

Oh boy, were you wrong.

"I want to chop my hair a bit before we head to Vegas." He said a week before your trip, Jeff kept insisting that you needed to see the show he had been working on at the Sphere and you finally agreed.

"That's fine, just don't do anything extreme you know I love the curls." You replied, unaware of what he had up in his sleeve.

"Nothing to worry about, baby." You failed to notice the devilish smile on his face that gave away that he was planning something else.

The following day Harry told you that he was going to Ayae's place to get his haircut, which was weird to you because his hairdresser always came to your house to cut his hair, but you still didn't overthink it too much.

Until you got a text from her that read "Don't kill me or your boyfriend for what he made me do."

Just a minute after you got the text you heard the front door open and your name being called from downstairs.

"H are you home? Ayae texted me but I don't know what she means." You said as you made your way to him, he was standing in your living room, his hair being covered by the hood of his hoodie.

"I cut my hair," he said and a confused frown made its way to your face, "And I'm going to show it to you, but you need to promise me you won't freak."

"Why would I freak? Why are you acting so weird about it?"

Harry only smiled and pulled the hood from his head, revealing that his brand new buzzcut.

You stood in your place for a few minutes before reacting, "Is this some kind of joke?"

"It's not love! I shaved it," he got closer to you, a big smile on his face, “Do you like it?”

“Oh my god! Your hair is really gone! What the fuck, Harry.” You laughed in disbelief, grabbing his face to get a better look at him.

“I told you I wanted to give it a try before my twenties ended, remember?”

“Yeah, but I didn’t think you’d actually do it,” you shook your head, “This is crazy! Does Jeff know? Forget about him does your mom know? Oh my god we need to facetime her right now.”

Harry laughed at your rant, “Jeff knows love, he wants to shave his too, and we’ll facetime mum later,” he pecked your lips quickly, “Now wipe that look off your face! You’re looking at me like I’m an alien!”

“This is just so weird, but also such a you thing to do,” you pecked his lips back, “Your fans are going to be absolutely nuts about this.”

“Lord, that’s what i’m dreading the most.”

A week later you and Harry were standing in the crowd of U2's concert at the Las Vegas Sphere, surrounded by friends and other concertgoers.

Somehow Harry's new look gave him a little more privacy, since the world didn't know that his signature brown curls were gone and he could go unnoticed sometimes.

"You've been busted." You said as you noticed a phone camera filming the both of you, Harry was standing behind you with his hand protectively gripping your neck.

"What, love?" He asked, making you discretely point at the person with the camera.

"Well, I guess the madness stars now."

A day later, pictures and videos of Harry's new haircut flooded the internet, making his fans go crazy once again.

taglist: @lightsoutstyles @willowpains @straightontilmornin n @sleutherclaw @gimsaysay @hazzassmirk @platinumbarbie143 @musicforcinemas @celesteblack08 @scntfrhs @eleanordaisy @lomlolivia a @iceebabies @iloveshawn @be-with-me-so-happily @watermelonsugacry @rayisthehoe @drewrry

[xomakara]

Riding The Heat

SUMMARY |  You, an omega, go on tour with your alpha, Yeosang, and his group mates since your heat is due to hit soon. Tensions run high during the concert when your heat starts and you can't help but wait until after the concert to ride out your heat with Yeosang.

PAIRINGS |  Yeosang x Reader

RATING |  Mature, NSFW, EXPLICIT, MDNI, 18+

GENRE |  Alpha!Yeosang, Omega!Reader, non-idol au, established relationship, smut, Omegaverse

CONTENT/WARNINGS | profanity/strong language, unprotected sex (wrap it up ya’ll!), dirty talk, oral sex (male giving/female receiving), praise kink, pet names, hotel sex, creampie, knotting, bonding/mating, impregnation

LENGTH |  3,439 words

TAGLIST |  @cyd0129

NETWORKS | @illusionnet @atzhouse @cromernet @wonderlandnet @k-vanity @othersideoutlawsnetwork @ksmutsociety

AUTHOR’S NOTE |  Hi there. Linda here. This is my first foray into the Omegaverse and I hope it's okay lol. I never wrote anything like this so I hope it turned out okay! I'm so sorry about the wait! Show you support by liking, commenting, reblogging. Love you 🩵

ATEEZ Main Masterlist

"Yeosang," You muttered as you clung to his arms. You were shaking from the need to have your alpha, the scent of him alone was making you drool. You wanted him so bad, but he had a concert to finish. 

"It's almost over, baby." Yeosang promised and pecked your cheek before turning to the crowd again. You were backstage where you were out of sight, but you could hear them clearly. They were screaming his name, his members' names. Your alpha was so popular, but he was yours.

"I know, but I want you now." You whined and pushed your nose against his neck. His scent was calming, it eased the heat enough for you to think a bit more clearly. You didn't know how long that would last, but you weren't going to complain.

"You can't have me now." Yeosang chuckled, the vibration made your stomach do flips. You were so weak for him. "Just a bit longer. The concert is almost done."

"Fine." You gave in and leaned back. It was going to be hard, but you could last. Hopefully.

"There's my good girl." Yeosang purred and cupped your cheeks. He pressed a kiss to your forehead before turning to the stage once again.

You had to take a few deep breaths. The only thing keeping you calm was his scent. It was a little overwhelming, but it was better than the alternative. You didn't like when he had to leave, but you knew you wouldn't be able to handle the public. Not with the way things were now.

The rest of the concert was a blur. You had zoned out, your body was getting hotter by the minute. It was taking everything you had to not start humping Yeosang. The thought had crossed your mind multiple times, but you held yourself back. He would take care of you soon, he promised.

You weren't sure how long the concert lasted. To you it felt like a lifetime, but in reality it had only been an hour or two. It was hard to tell in your current state. The heat was taking a toll on you. Your mind was fuzzy, and you couldn't remember what you were doing.

"Y/n? Can you hear me?" Yeosang's voice rang through the haze. He sounded distant, but he was holding you in his arms. You could smell him. The smell was comforting, your mind was telling you that it was your alpha. You wanted to respond, but it was hard to form any words. "Baby, come on."

"Hurts." You whimpered and curled up closer. You were clinging to his shirt, wrinkling it in the process. The fabric felt soft against your skin, his scent was overwhelming. You needed him, and you needed him now.

"I know, baby. I'll make it better." Yeosang tried to soothe you, but his words didn't help much. He could sense how bad it was getting, and it worried him. You were never like this during your heats. Something was different.

"Yeosang." You cried and nuzzled his neck. His scent was helping, but you needed more. You needed his knot. You needed his cock. You needed your alpha.

"Shh. We're almost there. Hang in there baby." Yeosang promised, but you couldn't hold on for much longer. Your body was aching, it hurt to breathe. Everything was so hot, you just wanted it to stop.

"Please." You whined. The heat was getting worse, the need was starting to take over. It was becoming too much, you couldn't handle it anymore. "Please. Please."

"We're here baby." Yeosang announced as the car came to a stop. He scooped you up and carried you inside, he wasn't going to wait for the others. They could catch a cab. You were his main priority.

You buried your face in his neck as he walked. The heat was too much. Everything was hot, and the way his fingers dug into your thighs wasn't helping. You wanted him, but he had to get to the hotel room.

"Come on." Yeosang kicked open the door to his room and carried you inside. You were thankful that the others weren't there, you weren't sure how you would feel if they were. You needed to be alone with your alpha, and he knew that.

"Yeosang." You groaned and clawed at his chest. It was too much. You couldn't take it. You needed him. "Please. Hurry."

"Patience baby." Yeosang hummed as he laid you down on the bed. He hovered above you, his scent was stronger now. It was clouding your mind, it was almost impossible to think. All you could think about was your alpha and his cock. "I'm going to take care of you. Just hold on."

"Please. Need you." You whined, tears started to well up in your eyes. The pain was getting worse, the heat was taking over. Your body was acting on instinct, all you could focus on was mating with your alpha.

"I'm right here." Yeosang promised, his fingers gently traced over your cheek. His touch was calming, but it wasn't enough. He wasn't touching you where you needed him.

Yeosang slowly slid his hand down, his touch ghosted along your sides. It made you shudder under him. His hand came to a stop on your thigh, and he gently coaxed your legs apart. You eagerly obeyed and parted them for him.

"You're already so wet baby." Yeosang commented and moved so he was kneeling between your legs. His eyes focused on your glistening core, he licked his lips. His alpha was starting to show, he could smell you, and it was driving him insane. "Can't wait to taste."

You squirmed beneath him, you weren't able to wait much longer. You needed something, anything to satiate the aching need in your stomach. The heat was building, and his teasing wasn't helping. You tried to hold back, but your instincts were taking over. Your heat was growing and you needed something, you needed your alpha's knot.

"Please." You hissed impatiently. A frustrated whine followed, your hands gripped the sheets tight. The urge to mount him was starting to become uncontrollable. If you couldn't find relief, you would find it yourself. You would take control of the situation and fuck yourself on his cock, just to satiate the desire. "Yeosang. Please."

"So impatient. So needy." Yeosang tutted, his nose bumped against your knee as his lips dragged along the soft flesh. "How bad do you want it? Want to cum around my tongue or my fingers? Or should I make you wait a little longer? Make you cum on my cock?"

Yeosang's scent surrounded you. You could feel his breath brush against the skin of your inner thighs. His tongue followed shortly, licking a stripe right against your core. His teasing was torture, it made you whine and wiggle.

"I can smell you baby. It's so strong. The whole hotel can probably smell it too." Yeosang growled in a low voice, he shifted to cage you in. His arms blocked your view of him. Only the feeling of his fingers ghosting over your skin reminded you that he was real. You didn't see him moving until his mouth pressed against your mound.

Yeosang kissed your clothed pussy, and your hips immediately bucked up. A soft groan escaped his lips, and you gasped when his breath hit the sensitive bundle of nerves. The sensation was driving you crazy. You needed his mouth, you needed his knot.

"What do we say Y/N?" Yeosang urged, his fingers rubbed slow circles along your inner thighs. "Come on baby. You know the rules."

"Yeosangie. Alpha." You mewled and looked down at him. He was between your legs, his head was facing your pussy and your thighs were pressed against his cheeks. It was one of the hottest sights you had seen, you couldn't keep your hands to yourself.

"That's my girl." Yeosang praised and lifted his hands so he could hook his thumbs around the waistband of your panties. He dragged the wet fabric down, taking extra care to avoid contact with your pussy. He was teasing you.

Your panties were soon forgotten, lost in the pile of clothes somewhere behind him. Yeosang let out another growl and his eyes narrowed at your bare pussy. It was glistening and dripping from your heat.

"My good girl. I knew you could wait for me." Yeosang praised again, a soft moan following. His lips dragged over your exposed skin, right above your clit, and then he kissed lower. He avoided the area where you needed him most, focusing on anywhere else he could get to without moving too much.

"Yes." You whimpered and tried to rub your legs together. Anything to ease the ache between your thighs. Your core ached, and your stomach flipped.

"What a pretty little cunt you have, baby girl. All soft and pink for me." Yeosang growled with arousal lacing his voice, "All mine. My precious little omega, let me take care of you. Alright Y/N?"

"Yes, Yeosang." You repeated, and Yeosang seemed satisfied with your answer.

"Good girl. Just for me."

Yeosang trailed the tip of his index finger around your clit, tracing delicate circles and you bucked against him. His thumb worked with his finger, adding to the stimulation.

Your clit pulsed and begged for his touch, but he still teased. Circling it, and dragging his finger through your folds before ghosting around the tight hole of your pussy.

His breath hit the skin of your inner thighs lightly while he pressed feather kisses there. His teeth dragged against your thigh occasionally, pulling the skin between his teeth.

"Fuck baby, you're already soaked and dripping for me." Yeosang rasps out while leaning down, spreading you open wide.

"Yeosang, please."

You saw a devilish look on his face and the last thing you knew was the feeling of his mouth. Latching on your pussy, making out with your most private parts. His mouth moved between kissing, sucking and nibbling all on the most sensitive spot of you.

While his left arm was hooked under your knee, his right was planted against the mattress in order to help steady himself. You ran both of your hands through the soft, black silky locks and tugged him forward to push more against you. His head was so close you could feel his rapid breath, warm against your pussy as he took it in.

It felt incredible.

Every lick or nudge of Yeosang's soft, plush lips was making the pressure build higher inside your body, and the feeling intensified as his tongue started to probe deeper inside.

"Oh fuck, just like that…" You whined. Your grip on Yeosang's head tightened, earning a muffled hum from him and an even harsher bite, his lips sucking and latching to your most sensitive area, which made you wail.

Yeosang growled and tugged you closer. His free arm held down your other thigh, effectively locking you in place. You wanted to rock your hips, the pressure was driving you mad. It was building and burning through your veins. Yeosang could feel it. He kept going, and going, and going.

You don't know what his tongue was doing to you, but it was an earth shattering experience that has made you fall apart in pleasure.

Yeosang had slowed down slightly to lazily lapping at you. He could sense that you were getting close and he was enjoying it.

"Fuck. Baby. More. More." You managed to plead, "Need it harder. Need it more, please."

He then kissed his way to the sensitive bundle, engulfing it fully.

And it drove you straight over the edge, the combination of his tongue and the vibrations from his growls. It was too much. Your body seized up, hands gripping the sheets hard and legs tightening as you rode out your climax.

His lips were wet and your clit throbbed as he softly kissed the raw bundle of nerves.

The entire time you were gasping and mumbling nonsense while your climax ripped through you. When you finally fell silent and motionless except for your harsh breathing Yeosang's gentle licks slowed.

"So good for me," Yeosang praises while lifting his head to smirk at you. Your juices were coating his lips, chin and cheek. Yeosang pushed up on his hands, peering down at you before bringing a hand to his mouth and wiping off his lips, cheeks, and chin with the back of it.

"I know you just came but fuck, I need to be in you." He growls low and slowly unbuckles his pants as he keeps eye contact with you, making it seem like a dangerous event. You never take your eyes off him when he crawls back over you, only to flip you over. "I want to fuck you again and again until you can't breathe. Breed you over and over and you beg me to stop."

With this position, you now could not see his face but could now feel it. He leaned over you and sucked on the back of your neck while using his other hand to grip your hips in order to force himself up into your soaked pussy. You whimper with the sudden intrusion but were still nice and loose.

As Yeosang rammed his thick and lengthy dick into you with ease, you clutched the comforters on his hotel bed. The feeling of him sliding into your raw and bare pussy made the blood rush and caused the flames in your core to become fanned by him. Yeosang groaned and buried his cock deeper into your needy hole. He whispered more vulgar things into your ear. He liked talking filthy to you because you enjoyed it so much, which only turned you on further.

"Fuck," Yeosang mumbled and grunted lowly. "This tight little omega cunt was just waiting for my cock, wasn't it?" Yeosang moaned.

As you gasped for more air, he roughly smacked your ass and plunged his dick so deep you felt as if you were going to faint. This wasn't exactly mating season yet, but with your intense heat you would've sworn it was. It was so rough and perfect you could see your slick dripping down his thighs, glistening in the dull hotel light. You would normally have the strength and self awareness to act embarrassed, but now all you cared about was riding out this heat until it passed and his knot swelled in your dripping pussy.

"P-please," you stuttered out between Yeosangs powerful thrusts, your breath hitched and tears threatened your vision as your legs quivered. "Wanna— wanna come on you. On your cock. Want you to breed me, baby."

At your begging pleas, Yeosang bit the shell of your ear. "That's it, angel. Such a good fucking omega. Good girl. Look at you."

Yeosang wasn't often one to lose himself, but with the heat-scented haze consuming him it's hard. You needed a distraction, so you allowed the warm fuzzy feeling in your chest consume your emotions.

"Tell me," he husks against your shoulder blade. "Tell me who you belong to."

Yeosang watched the roll of your spine beneath your dress as you rocked your hips and walls along his shaft, groaning in response. "I am yours," you answered, breath hitching when your clit hit against the hard bones of his hips. "I've only been yours."

You wanted to tell him to fill you up with his cum. You needed his seed. That was the goal here. His knot would form inside you. It'll leave you full for several days, and possibly even bearing his pup. Your rational self told you not to say such things aloud, but your body burned with lust. "Need your knot so bad. Please Yeosang," you gasped loudly, desperately.

"Of course, my angel," Yeosang coos in agreement. "I'll breed my little omega bitch. Fill you up."

"Hnnnnn," you groaned. Yeosang's praising sent butterflies and waves of pleasure straight to your core. You craved his praise. It meant you were being good. Being a good omega made your alpha feel good. "Want you. So badly. Love when you fill me with your cum and k-knot me. I want your p-pups. So b-bad!"

"You want my pup, angel? I'll give you a family, hm?"

Your stomach was on fire. Yeosang's pace picked up, pounding against a spot inside you that lit up every nerve. Yeosang was able to maintain composure through his pleasure. You were reduced to a drooling, sobbing mess with nothing to distract you from the heavenly pleasure filling you up.

"Can't wait til you're round and full with my pups. Everyone will know who you belong to and you'll never want anything else," He grunts between thrusts. "Your slutty hole only exists to be bred and pumped full of my load. Ain't that right, baby?"

"Y-yes," You agreed. He could feel the build up. Your body felt tighter and tighter, constricting against him as you begged for him. "My hole is so greedy for your fat knot. Please... I want to carry your pups. I need it. I'm desperate for it, Yeosang. Desperate for you."

Yeosang dragged another growl from his throat, gripping onto you impossibly tighter. "Just like I knew you'd be. Such a perfect little omega, only wanting my cum. Good girl," his words come out lower in pitch and slightly slurred as a groan bubbles past his throat. He flipped you over, your back now against the mattress and his hand planted above your head on the bed, boxing you in. The position made you whimper, almost completely pinned, and the sight of Yeosang towering over you sent you into a wave of pleasure.

"Close. I'm- fuck I'm gonna. Y-Yeosangie-" You whined, staring at him with those puppy dog eyes of yours. He loved hearing that, so it encouraged him more.

"Do it, angel. Be a good omega and cum on my cock. Then I'll mate and knot you. I'll fill you and breed you til you're bloated. Then I'll stuff you full of it again." Yeosang snarls into your collar, licking the spot where he's going to make his mark. Your nails claw down his back as you go stiff beneath him.

As soon as Yeosang's cock drilled deep and found the spongy spot inside you, all of your muscles seized up and contracted as a euphoric climax struck. He rubbed against your g-spot as well, resulting in an unstoppable wave of bliss as you rode your high and let out a scream.

Yeosang released hot spurts of semen as his dick shot its load, effectively burying his seed inside you. His knot began to swell, forcing it to plug up inside your tight cunt as he filled you up. He snarled as he locked inside you and latched onto the column of your neck, biting into the skin.

You wailed out his name, feeling the rush of his essence as your body throbbed and you came to the highest high you'd ever felt. After he was done feeding you his cum and sealing the mating process with a kiss over his mark, Yeosang lay with your naked bodies intertwined and stroking your hair while soothing your body with gentle kisses.

You lay there exhausted, face pressed into the crook of his neck and gasping.

Yeosang combed his fingers through your hair, smiling. Your body tingles with satisfaction as the last remains of the heat roll off you and you could relax in his arms, knowing he had done everything he could to please you.

"Aren't you glad I suggested you come on tour with me?" Yeosang jokes softly, peppering sweet kisses to your temple.

"Yeosang." You nudge him playfully, smiling shyly and taking a hold of his free hand, bringing it to your stomach. You could only hope a pup had successfully grown and lived within there, or it at least would try and live.

"What?" Yeosang blinks with curious eyes. His smile and cute dimples greet you, and for a second you think everything will be okay. Even if it doesn't happen right away, the future is always bright.

"I love you. So much." You tell him, pecking his lips. "And we're going to make such a good family."

Yeosang smiles at this, kissing the tip of your nose, "I love you too. More than words can express. And if we don't conceive this time, that's okay. We have a lifetime together and we will continue trying until you're full with our child."

You smile.

Yeosang was absolutely right.

You have a lifetime together.

[rafesbuzzcutseason]

chasing city lights

chapter 11 - flatline

synopsis: you move to new york to start fresh, hoping to find comfort in the city’s atmosphere. that’s when you meet sarah cameron, where she takes you to a concert and you catch sight of the lead band member, rafe cameron. it only takes a moment for you to realize you’re captivated by him. as sarah helps you navigate your new life in the city, you start to get pulled deeper into rafe's world—the music, the fame, the chaos. the more you get to know him, the more you realise that rafe is not just the rock star he seems to be. he’s wrestling with his own demons, and the last thing he needs is someone like you getting close.

masterlist

cw: language

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after your day with rafe yesterday, the girls had so many questions and you told them everything, down to the song he wrote for you. what you didn't expect however, was that the song was going to be released in a few days time.

"i genuinely can't believe this," sarah started, "i mean him opening up to you? the commincation? the song? where is rafe and what have you done with him." she giggled.

"no y/n i don't think you understand the extent of this. like we've all been friends with rafe for a good 6 years, and i have never seen a girl have this affect on him before."

"guys stop you're making me think i'm some kind of miracle." you laughed with them.

"that's because you are a miracle." cleo joined in.

"so do you think you'll become official soon...?" sarah questioned.

"i don't know, the fans already think we are." you stated.

"the fans are fucking crazy. you'll get used to that i promise. when me and pope started dating everyone went bonkers over it." cleo reassured you.

"i guess so, it's okay i don't mind it, it's just getting used to seeing my face whenever i open twitter." you said. "whatever, we've got a flight to catch." you all finished your last minute packing and made your way into the car that was waiting for you outside the hotel.

part of you was sad to be leaving the state you had made so many memories in, but you knew heading back to new york all together was just the beginning for this new chapter for you and rafe.

once you made it to the airport, you found the rest of the boys who had left earlier as they all entered 'dad mode' and were getting stressed, john b to blame for that.

"finally you're here!" john b began as he saw you walk through the door.

"yeah thought we were gonna have to leave without you." pope said sarcastically.

"enough. we're here now aren't we?" cleo said rhetorically.

"yes ma'am" jj joined in, everyone was in agreement that cleo was the boss of the group.

you made your way to say hi to topper, who was slowly starting to become his usual self again, you assumed him and rafe had a conversation to try and clear the air.

but you eventually made it to rafe, who looked like his was patiently waiting his turn to get your attention, "hey you" he said.

"hey" you replied with a slight blush, "i didn't know you were actually going to release the song." you rushed out.

a look of concern took over him, "do you mind?" he asked worriedly.

"no! no i'm happy" you started, "but the fans are a little crazy."

"yeah i know they are and i should've warned you about that, but the best ones mean no harm and all you can try and do is ignore them." he replied.

"hard to ignore them when they're commenting on everything i post." you quietly said.

"i can say something if it really bothers you, okay?" he softly reached out to give your hand a squeeze.

"okay" you smiled at him, always putting you at ease.

"ok love birds pack it in," jj hollered "i don't think this plane is going to wait for us."

"whatever dude" rafe grinned, "ready?" he turned to you.

"ready."

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ ☾. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

a/n: sorry guys i made this chapter a lot more smau, just as i had the idea to do the thread (which took me ages LAWD) and also wanted to get the song mentioned ! 5 points to anyone who knows the actual song and band🙈

taglist: @hoefordrewstarkey @marleymarleymarleymarley @bee-43 @cherryhoneybabe @skye-44 @drewrry @drewrry  @yesterdaysproblemm @pogueprincesa @dylsdaily @rafeysworldim19 @valyrianflower @kaiparkerwifes @judesgfirl @4urvalidation @chillgal135 @drewstarkeyslover @yesshewrites1@amterasuu@babykhloutofthisworld @blushmimi  @moonywhisp3rs @rafeysworldim19 @marleymarleymarleymarley@sabrina-carpenter-stan-account@vcnillafairy @bambii1i @sammyrenae68 @popou61

[lena-in-a-red-dress]

Musician Age Gap AU

Kara goes to the concert expecting nothing more than a tepid evening out. Well, as tepid as a night alone with her goddaughter could be. Esme has a knack for pulling Kara out of any funk she's in, no matter how deep her doldrums. And Esme's excitement to see this specific artist Kara's never heard of is nearly infectious.

Kara finds herself grinning in the car as Esme strictly tells her not to turn the radio on.

"They're gonna play one of her songs, and we need to go in fresh!"

So they simply chat on the ride to the arena, and upon arrival Kara is floored by the flood of people flowing from the parking lot to the venue itself.

"She's only the biggest name in pop music, Aunt Kara," Esme teases with a grin. "What did you expect?"

Kara's eyes go big with an exaggerated shrug of her eyebrows. "Not this!"

"Come on, old lady. This is why we got here early."

Esme finds fast friends among the other fans in line, but Kara steers clear of the parents clearly commisserating over the ordeal. She's not a parent, just a chaperone, and she has no intention of allowing herself to be infected by the endless negativity of long suffering caregivers bemoaning the whims of their tweens and teens.

Once inside, Esme heads straight for the merch table, clearly intent on spending her long-saved allowance money on anything she can get her hands on. The kid's wrists are already stacked with friendship bracelets, her own tote of swaps nearly empty and waiting to be stuffed with shirts and mugs and posters. Kara eyes the mounting total, then catches the moment Esme starts weighing the balance of what she has against the hoodie advertised at $60.

Kara rolls her eyes at the price, then reaches over with her card outstretched. "Add a medium hoodie to that, please."

Esme squeals with delight, and as soon as they're clear of the stall she throws her arms around Kara.

"Thank you!!!!"

"You're welcome," Kara says with a chuckle. "Just don't wear it til you get home. It's going to be hot in there."

"Okay!" Esme is already swapping her existing t-shirt for the tank top she'd gotten, emblazoned with the face of a young woman and the performer's name: LENA

"How do I look?" Esme asks with a spin, bracelets clicking.

Kara grins. "Like the world's cutest groupie." She tilts her head towards the crush of people heading into the stands. "Come on, let's go grab our seats."

"What's a groupie?"

Kara rolls her eyes, only to pause mid-turn when her phone starts vibrating in her hand. She hesitates, meeting Esme's eye.

"Just a sec, sweetie."

"What? No! Aunt Kara you promised no work."

Kara grimaces. "I know, but it might be an emergency." She scans the corridor, gaze catching on a short row of food vendors. "Here, why don't you take this and get us some nachos?"

She shoves forty dollars into Esme's hand and fishes out her bluetooth, nestling it in her ear.

"Aunt Kara..."

"I gotta find a corner somewhere," Kara continues. She points to a section of cinderblock wall a little ways down. "I'll meet you in across from the restrooms, okay? Five minutes, then I'm all yours."

Esme huffs. "Fine."

Kara answers the call, but waits until she sees Esme add herself to the food line before she starts speaking.

"This better be good!" she shouts into her phone. She can't hear anything but a jumble of sound on the other end, the din around her crowding out any words that might have been spoken. "Hold on!"

Reassured to see Esme already in conversation with a number of girl's around her, Kara goes looking for a quieter spot. She finds one in the nearest stairwell.

"What?" Kara snaps.

"Um," her assistant says over the line. "Mrs. Jasper called again? She wants--"

"Eve," Kara growls. "Do not tell me you called me, tonight of all nights, because Mrs. fucking Jasper called making some other inane request."

"I'm sorry!" Eve squeaks. "It's just--"

"Tell her it is after hours, and that she will be hearing from me personally first thing tomorrow morning."

"Oh, um. Okay. I guess--"

"Go home when it's done. And turn off your phone. You shouldn't be working this late either."

"Um. Okay. Thank you, Miss Danvers."

Kara ends the call with a roll of her eyes. But her frustration hardens into panic when she tugs on the door to return and-- it doesn't budge. She yanks again, harder, and still nothing.

"Fuck!" she shouts. She begins pounding on the door. "Hey! Can someone open this door?!"

No one comes to her rescue, her calls likely drowned out by the same noise that had driven her here in the first place. With another curse, Kara steps into action. She chooses to go down, hoping that the next door will open. It does, but the corridor she steps into is nearly empty. She hears a bit of bustle further down the hall, but out of sight.

She heads towards the sounds, trying the handle of every door she passes. None of them turn-- save one. She leans into it a little too hard as she tries the knob, and nearly tumbles into the room at the unexpected open.

Managing to right herself with a small yelp, Kara straightens-- only to freeze upon locking gazes with the young woman staring at her. A young woman Kara recognizes from the shirt her goddaughter had just put on.

Lena tilts her head with a droll grin.

"Well, you aren't my tea with honey."

[vanesycho]

Are you able to do a soft thoughts f!reader x Johnny? 🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹 when you get the chance. No rush I promise.

I love soft Johnny so much😭 he is a very huggable person😔 thank you for your request🤍🤍

Soft thoughts about Johnny ˘͈ᵕ˘͈

ღJohnny is someone who warms up everyone around him with his big smile. Just his looks can put you at ease. When he is with you, you can be sure that he will make the day brighter with his jokes and thoughtful thoughts. The size of his hands and his warm touches make you feel safe, just like a blanket you wrap yourself in on a cold day.

ღHis laughter is contagious. He can make you laugh heartily even on the worst day when he is with you. He has a voice that seems to take away all your stress. When you are on a long walk with him, watching the clouds in the sky and having a slow conversation, everything feels calmer and more peaceful.

ღHe is someone you will always feel comfortable with. If you are someone who is shy to go out in public, Johnny is perfect for that. He always makes you fit in, makes you feel comfortable. He notices when you are uncomfortable in a place and makes you have a better time alone.

ღHis hugs can be the best thing in the world. He always makes you feel warm. He does not hesitate to wrap his arms around you tightly, and although he is afraid of hurting you by squeezing too hard, he cannot control himself. Especially if you are going through a bad time, his warm hugs can make you forget everything.

ღHe loves to cook, if he wakes up earlier than you in the morning, you can find him in the kitchen already. He will give you a warm smile, approach you, kiss your forehead and hug you. He will whisper in your ear with his calm voice "Good morning baby, did you sleep well? I am preparing you the best breakfast you will ever eat, just wait a little bit."

ღI don't know why but he seems like someone who sings for no reason. When he comes in, he will hum a song and then his voice will rise, if you join him he will reach out his hand and make you do a little dance show. Finally he will pull you to him and kiss you on the lips and end your little concert with that.

As the song ended, Johnny looked into your eyes and kissed you romantically. His kisses were like the last note of the song, sweetly completing the moment. "That was the best part of the song."

ღHe seems like the kind of person who will tell you ridiculous stories before going to bed. Sometimes he will tell you the story of how you two met as a love story and you listen to it with a smile on your face every time "And that was the day the eternal love of the two main characters began..." when he realizes you are asleep halfway through the story he will give you a light kiss and mumble goodnight. But sometimes he can tell you the most ridiculous thing in the world, like a story about aliens and dinosaurs fighting.

"One day, the dinosaur commander, a T-Rex, targeted the aliens' base using a huge laser gun." You listened to him, unable to hold back your laughter. "...And just like that, the dinosaurs and the aliens never fought again. Because now both sides knew how bad ice cream was."

ღHe is good with words. He can give you the best advice and compliments, makes you feel better with small touches. He never hesitates to show his love, even if he doesn't say words of love to you, you can tell everything from the look in his eyes. The brightness of his eyes, the small smile on his lips, the small nods that show he listens to every word.

ღHe's really good at flirting. At first you thought he was a playboy but you realized he only acts like that because he really loves you, he doesn't talk to anyone else like that. He squeezes in some flirty sentences while talking and then continues talking as if nothing happened, leaving you surprised.

As he walks around the library with you, he looks at you who you were excitedly looking for the book you love. “You’re so cute, these books must make you feel excited, just like I feel when I'm with you you.” You looked at him in surprise, but he picked up a book without even looking at you. “Oh look, here’s the book you’re looking for. Let’s go, I’ll buy it for you.”

[ninguitar]

LOWKEY.　　◦　　next.

one. the party & the after party.

❛ in which a concert you were tantalized by your friends into attending led to a one-night hook-up with band member, yu "karina" jimin, who was coincidentally a classmate, too. though incredulous and foolish, in karina's eyes, you were way too good to have you slipping through her fingers, but even so, she couldn't just act on it, leaving the two of you in an awkward predicament, keeping the feelings amidst lowkey. ❜

WILD, BUSTLING PARTIES were never your type of scene; though, nonetheless, you attended them—out of boredom, of course. you couldn't go a month without being dragged to some lousy party by one of your friends, mainly keeho or chaewon.

while your hands interlaced with one-another, you waited for manon, hoping the girl would appear magically. running a hand through your hair, you sighed before rubbing your temples.

the scent of lavender infiltrated your nose, providing a welcome contrast to the raucous chatter of people over the roaring music. the only break in the impending noise was a group of girls engaging in animated and playful banter, all dressed in matching, biker-adjacent attire.

"uh, hey."

your mind instantly snapped away from your lost, recurring thoughts, and turning around, your head was met with a girl who gave you a delicate smile—the same girl who'd you been promptly staring at previously. careful, concentrated brown eyes rake up your figure—up and down. "can i sit with you?"

you only nodded, the tips of your fingers tracing along your knuckles, which only made the girl more confused. "i'm jimin, but karina's fine, too," karina murmurs, her hand flat on the wooden planks of the stairs.

again, you nodded, glad that you could put a name to such a gorgeous face. "y/n," you merely slur out before muttering something incoherent. "you, uh… listen to the band?"

"what?" a snicker escaping karina's breath, to which you replied with, "y’know, aespa or whatever." a lazy smile plays on karina's face at your response, as she simply giggles.

"yeah— yeah, sure, i do," karina meekly shrugs, a grin tugging on her face. god, she couldn't believe your drunken haze spurring further than the inability to even hold a conversation without giggling; though, she couldn't help but admit that she was probably even worse, considering the way she practically staggered while walking to you.

you lean back on the steps behind you, your neck craning away—only for karina's hand to meet your chin, cupping it gently, as if you were a delicate artifact. her eyes locked onto your lips, tracing the start and end of it. with your back plastered against the cold, wooden steps, you met eye to eye with karina.

"can i? i promise i don't bite," to which, you meekly nod, closing the gap between you two. her tongue darted out swiftly, as her arms snaked around your waist, pulling you even closer in any possible distance between the two of you.

phones rang, beeping repeatedly, while you two were too entangled in each other to notice—your lips against her's left karina hazed, everything seemingly like a blur. and so, for the rest of the night, you two were away—doing who knows what.

notes. i PROMISE the future chapters will be a lot better than this 💔💔

taglist. ୨ৎ @yeetaberry127 @yoontoonwhs @1luvkarina @sed7ction @stareaa

@cceanvvaves @ariiiiii8iiiii @nwjnsloona @yjiminswallet (send an ask, or dm if you want to be tagged !! )

[crispy-armpit]

✧ 𝖎'𝖒 𝖞𝖔𝖚𝖗𝖘 ✧

ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ ʀᴏᴄᴋꜱᴛᴀʀ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

☆⋆｡🎧𖦹 °✩ 🎸⋆⸜♩

⭒ 𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺: reminisce about your forgotten first meeting with Deimos 3 years ago. meanwhile, you've been invited to watch his concert after the previous events. (pt.2)

⭒ 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵: 𝘨𝘯 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳, 𝘺𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘦, 𝘪𝘯𝘧𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘪𝘯𝘫𝘶𝘳𝘺, violence, implied stalking, reader gets called a bitch, (slight) sadism, kinda tame

⭒ 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵: 1,495

⭒ a/n: dear lord i am simping for my own art... hope u all enjoy reading this! i'll be opening asks & make a short introduction in the next post ^^ ( yan jock makes an appearance here too!)

will you venture down this path?

where is he?

did I walk in the wrong direction?

am I lost?

... nope, this is the right place.

you are standing alone in a dark alleyway, looking around the location you agreed to meet your friend in. checking the virtual clock on your phone, you count the time you have left before you go on stage. 32 minutes.

time was ticking and he was still nowhere in sight. there's no way you could perform the duet alone. anxiously, you try texting your friend again.

You 》 17:28

bro where are u

i'm alr here

are u lost again

LIAM

liam

liam

liam

liam

liaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaam

fuck it, i'm leaving him. alleys are never good news. ever since you entered the place, your stomach has been in knots and the back of your head was tingling. it's almost as if... someone's been watching you.

typing on the small screen, you tell him you're going to meet him behind the stage instead. you speed walk towards the end of the tunnel, relieved you were leaving this place. you almost reach the exit until a rough hand pulls on your wrist.

a gruff voice speaks, "hey, you dropped this."

SHIT, I'M GOING TO DIE—

without thinking, you instinctively clench your fists into a ball and punch the unknown 'assailant' on the nose— effectively causing him to bleed. the stranger gasps out various curse words as you turn to scream and run away.

"I'M SORRYYyyyy—"

knuckles still bruised from the impact, you try to hide them as best as you can from the crowd's attention. Liam had managed to arrive on time, seconds before the performance. he claimed to have come across an old friend on the way who was difficult to shake off. but that was all in the past, and he has yet to notice your injured knuckles.

currently, you are performing on the stage in front of a sea of people. with your friend on the acoustic guitar, you both sang a duet that sang of two lovers, a confession of how one felt incomplete without the other.

it was a popular song, so Liam insisted on it. you were glad he did because in the end, the happy crowd's applause rang loud across your ears. a sound you'll always love.

now off the stage, you and Liam decide to explore the festival's offerings. the spring festival at night is beautiful— lanterns clipped across the starry sky and flowers and people littering the area. you approach one of the food stalls that lined the streets, purchasing a sundae of your favourite flavour.

as you are about to pay, you rummage through your pockets and realise... your wallet is gone. did i leave it at home?! Liam seems to pick up on your situation as he pulls out his own wallet, "i'll pay for them." you thank him and promise to pay him back. "it's alright, you don't have to." he smiles.

suddenly, a loud voice approaches the both of you, "Oi, Lili! ya did great up there, man." you turn to see a group of four people heading your way who were all dressed head-to-toe in punk clothing and carrying band equipment. they must be a band. a slim man holding wooden drumsticks pats Liam on the back, and he shortly notices you.

"oh? hello there, mx. the name's Vern." he grins and offers you a handshake, to which you politely return.

"y/n. nice to meet you, Vern. I'm a friend of Liam's."

"a friend of Liam is a friend of mine, y/n!" Vern heartily laughs, "let me introduce you to the gang, y/n— of course, you've met me, the drummer. that lady with red hair is Kyra, the lead guitarist. the young-looking fellow with shit for brains is Astrid, our second guitarist. and finally, our beloved lead singer and bassist, D—"

you don't have time to react before your face is roughly grabbed by a hand larger than your head, cheeks squished. you try to pry your face away from the thick fingers of the unknown man, as you shakily look up at his furrowed eyes. he's seething, and you don't know why.

"it's you. fucking bitch."

you don't know what you've done to this man to warrant such a reaction, you've never even met him before!... right? you think back to earlier in the day when you punched the stranger from the alley. shit, it's him.

though muffled by his palms, you still manage to voice out an apology. for the first time in your life, you feel a sensation rushing through your blood. dread and terror. in the corner of your eyes, you spot Liam being held back by a concerned Vern and Astrid.

you desperately try to pull his hand off your face while repeating apologies, but it's useless. he's too strong. the tall stranger continues to stare at you and you swear he was enjoying this. if not for the sick glint in his eyes or the soft panting from his pierced lips, then maybe for the light blush dusting his cheeks.

after what felt like hours, he finally lets go. you immediately massage your aching jaw and cheeks at his release. the stranger scoffs and hands you a familiar item... it's your wallet! "...found this in the alley. you throw a good punch." you gently take the small pouch off his hands and thank him.

a ghost of a smirk morphs on his face before he grunts and walks past you. the others instantly follow behind him like baby ducks trailing their mother, but not without giving you a sympathetic look. Vern checks up on you before joining his group, "woah, he's never spared anyone before. sorry about him, but i hope you'll still come to watch us?"

Liam, who is no longer held back, runs to your side and inspects your face. "are you alright?? fuck, I should teach him not to mess with you!" he angrily shouts. you're still recovering from shock. but that doesn't stop you from thinking how nice the stranger's smile looked. "do you want to go home? i'll drive you bac—"

with newfound motivation, you're able to speak again, "no, i'm fine. let's go watch the next show!"

you and Liam stand in front of the stage, somehow having managed to get past the current of people. there are way more people than before, and you notice some of them are holding signs. confused, you turn to the person next to you and ask her, "hey, what's with all the people? is a celebrity coming?"

she looks at you astounded, "you seriously don't know? Ares is performing next! they're like, all over social media right now." Ares? you don't think you've heard any singer with that name before. before you can ask who they are, waves of screams fill your ears as 4 pairs of feet walk on stage. you look back at Liam to see him clapping for the band, following his gaze, you accidentally lock eyes with a pair of heterochromatic eyes.

he acknowledges your presence with a lazy lift of his brow and faces the crowd again. this time, the audience shouts in union.

ARES!

ARES!!

ARES!!!

the electrifying sound of a guitar and drums booms through the speakers. the ground vibrates along with the rhythm, as your heartbeat follows along. the song begins, but it's not until you hear the deep bass of the leader's voice do you feel the aching throb of your core.

(R U Mine? - Arctic Monkeys)

I'm a puppet on a string

holy shit.

She's a silver linin', lone ranger ridin' through an open space...

his voice is intoxicating.

In my mind, when she's not right there beside me

I go crazy 'cause here isn't where I wanna be

your heart feels like it's about to burst out of your chest.

And satisfaction feels like a distant memory

And I can't help myself

All I wanna ever say is, "Are you mine?"

yes.

Well, are you mine?

Are you mine?

Are you mine? Oh, ah

i'm yours.

his deep voice that was once laced with anger and malice— now brings your own heart to tears. you could only think about what was going through his mind to sing a beautiful song in such a wrenching manner. and on that day, you swore to one day bring someone to tears with your voice, just like he had with you.

but what you did not know was that you'd already done the exact same thing to Deimos earlier that day. and for that, he'd follow you down every road until there comes a time when your paths meet again.

back in the present, you've been forced invited to watch Deimos' latest concert. like before, you sat at the very front row, right in front of his assigned position. the only difference from then was his lovestruck eyes that would never leave your figure.

in the end, he was yours.

[magics-neptunes-things]

Celebrity Crush

Hi guys!

This is a new one, but it's kind of a suit from this story. A bonus chapter, I don't know how we can call it.

I hope you will like it :)

TW : Ona Batlle being perfect as ever.(I'm so in love)

Summary : You're a worldclass singer in an interview after you left your group because your manager and staff were asshole.

Enjoy!

______________________________________________________________

After leaving your group's separation, you quickly felt better. The depression that awaited you flew away like a cloud of smoke once the stress and pressure that were constantly on your shoulders stopped existing. Even when you were on trial against your old record company, your former bosses and manager, you felt good. Because even if you ended up paying millions, it meant you were free again. And that, in your eyes, was priceless.

You must also admit that being able to be with your girlfriend on a daily basis is probably the main reason for your well-being. Ona has always been the most important person in your life and since your return to Barcelona, you have trouble being separated from her. You gladly accompany her to her training sessions and you will also happily get her when she has finished. You go to each of her games as well, even if they are on the other side of Spain or in another country. You have so much time to catch up and your wear your jersey with her name with pride.

You were afraid at first that having you around all the time would end up bothering Ona, but she seems as happy to have you back as you are. At first, you didn’t know what to do while the footballer was training, so you cleaned up your house. As the days passed, you started composing and playing music again, for fun. Your apartment may no longer shine like a mint, but it has the advantage that your housekeeper stops staring at you when you don’t put their products in the right place.

It's only two years later that you decide to release a music album, entirely produced by you. You don’t want to experience the same kind of problems as before and you’ve decided that you’re never better served than by yourself. The songs are mostly love songs related to Ona to be fair.

When you looked for musicians, you asked the guys but only Ricardo agreed. You didn’t blame the other two, even if you now use the thing to annoy them when you see them again and you start bickering like fifteen year olds.

You choose your interviews yourself and it's you who plans your concert schedules, arranging to place them at times or places that don't make you miss any match of Ona. It's sometimes more difficult for her to come see you in concert, but these being the same each time, you don't hold it against her. You have an agent, though, who is no one but your big brother, who you have complete confidence in, and who knows how to be a watchdog when it comes.

After dropping Ona off at practice today, you head to the centre of Barcelona for an interview. You initially hesitated before accepting, but when sold to you as a way to also talk about homosexuality that is forced to hide in the music world, you quickly accepted.

"Drive carefully. I will try to listen to you" Ona promised before kissing you tenderly caressing your cheek.

"All right. Be careful Onita."

Ona smiled at you and left the car, not without kissing you one more time when you whines when you saw her leaving your car.

The report that is broadcast before your interview attracts all your attention and you are happy that the subject is approached in this way. The way they educate young people on the subject also pleases you very much. During the ad page and the beginning of your interview, you send a quick message to Ona and your mother, telling them that the interview will soon begin.

The headphones on your ears, you smile at the journalist who is interviewing you. She is a well-known and respected journalist in Spain and you are happy that she is the one doing your interview.

"So Y/N, hello! How are you?"

"I’m fine thank you and you?" you answer with a smile.

"Well, I’m glad you’re here."

You smile and nod. She informed you that the interview was being filmed to be broadcast online on the radio’s website, but don’t forget that most people can’t see you. So you also thank her orally.

After discussing the report and general views, she gently guides the discussion on your own case, as agreed. You naturally asked Ona’s permission to talk about her before accepting the interview.

"And so in your case, it was your record company at the time that prohibited you from mentioning your girlfriend?"

"Yes. In truth, I was not allowed to talk about my homosexuality at all. It was the record company that started releasing subtle information to make the fans believe that something was going on between Juan and me"

"And you were already with your girlfriend when it all started?"

"We’ve been together since we were 17 and I’ve never kept the truth from them" you shrug your shoulders.

"It must have been hard for you, but also for her, I guess."

You swallow nervously, the difficult moments through which you passed coming back in memory. Playing nervously with your fingers, you quickly shift your attention to your interlocutor.

"Very. Honestly, I’m very lucky that she stayed. Many other people would have given up on me I think."

The reporter smiles at you before moving on to another question. You knew this kind of moment would come and you were prepared. But that doesn’t mean it’s nice to talk about it anyway.

"I can see people reacting to what you said and some people find it unbelievable that your former employers have not managed to separate you" she comments looking at a screen next to her.

"Oh, actually they almost succeeded. But that’s precisely when I decided to stop everything. I could see my life without music, but I couldn’t see my life without Ona" you say timidly while smiling.

The journalist smiles back at you and winks at you before grabbing a small pile of cards next to her.

"Thank you for your sincerity. Now a quick round of questions on anything and everything, all our guests come through. Are you ready?"

"Ready" you answer, a little more relaxed.

You laugh softly when she throws a jingle, before you ask the first question.

"What is your favorite season?"

"Summer" you answer. The summer break would be fairer, considering Ona’s busy schedule.

"Your favorite food?"

"The fideua of my mother-in-law, sorry Mama I love you"

"If you had to live in a city other than Barcelona, which one would it be?"

You give yourself a few seconds to think, quickly listing the places you know in your head.

"Um… Maybe Palma de Mallorca"

An hour’s flight from your families, the little island is a place you enjoy. So why not. In addition, you need the sun to live properly. Even if you enjoy London, you don't see yourself living there permanently.

"Real Madrid or FC Barcelona?"

"Barcelona, obviously" you answer with a smile.

"The first thing you do in the morning, only the answers that can be listened by our youngest ears are allowed" jokes the journalist, making you laugh.

"Turn off my girlfriend’s alarm clock I guess"

You never understood how Ona got up and got to practice on time during your absence. She never hears the sound of her alarm clock.

"Ok and last question. Who is your celebrity crush? Ban to mention Ona's name"

You laugh again and roll your eyes.

"Okay then… The Number 22 of Fc Barcelona Femini is kind of cute" you answer with malice, mentioning Ona's number.

It makes the journalist laugh and you smile while shrugging your shoulders before answering.

"What? You saw my girlfriend? There’s no way I’d mention another name"

This is where the interview ends and you warmly thank the whole team for their kindness. After posing for a photo for their social networks, you still stay with them to talk a little bit. At this time, Ona is probably coming home, Salma having offered to bring her back for once since you were not sure to arrive on time.

When you go out, some fans are waiting for you and you take a few minutes to talk to them, sign autographs or take pictures. When you finally get to your car, you answer Ona’s message that she is home to tell her that you are coming too.

"I’m home mi Amor!"

Ona appears smiling in the entrance after a few seconds and you don't hesitate to pass your arms around her to squeeze her against you. It’s only been a few hours but it’s pretty incredible how much you missed her. You smile while feeling the comforting smell of her shampoo and smile even more when she drops kisses in the hollow of your neck.

"How was the training?" you ask her while playing with her long hair.

"Very good. Only three games left and we’re on vacation"

You smile and nod. Barcelona are already sure to win the championship and you saw their third straight victory in the Champions League a few weeks before.

"I can’t wait"

You have already planned your vacation, three weeks under the sun of Hawaii. You know how tired Ona is and you intend to do everything possible so that she can recover properly. What she doesn’t know is that you plan to propose to her there and that almost everything is already organized.

Ona turns you away from the last details you have to do by putting her lips on yours, waking the butterflies in your stomac.

"Come, I ordered food. I took sushi as I didn't know what time you would arrive"

"It’s perfect" you assure her, letting her train you in your kitchen by the hand. "Like you" you add with a smirk, lightly squeezing her bum.

Ona laughs and turns around to face you and put her arms around your neck.

"What a sweat talker and a charmer" she whispers against your lips before kissing you again, making you shiver.

"I’m so in love with you it’s disgusting" you smirk a few minutes later when you’re sitting in front of your plate.

"Oh yeah? Well it seems to me that you also appreciate the number 22 of FC Barcelona?"

Sitting in front of you, Ona has eyes that sparkle with mischief and you laugh by pointing with one of your sticks.

"You can’t blame me. She’s amazing."

[staybabblingbaby]

Soulmate Garden AU Ch.1 (Dahlia) a2 d5

[Caution: These are not full fics, or even full parts of fics for some, these are part of my writing progress archive!]

Concept: Growing up, you knew Soulmates weren't all that they cracked up to be. So when, on your 18th birthday, your skin is painted with a garden of flower buds, you resolve to hide it from everyone. Who had ever heard of someone with 8 soulmates, anyway?

Or; Reader has 8 soulmates and no issue avoiding all of them. It's up to SKZ to show her that while every soulbond might not be made of fairy tales, theirs certainly could be.

Word Count: 5,368

Notes: My friend Tiny said this was very Wattpad era of me, so I'm so sorry that I'm cringe, guys. She also said she loved it and I am also p satisfied w it, so. Celebrations! It's also fucking long for me, like damn. Chill. I do have some disclaimers abt this tho. 1) I have never been to a k-pop concert, I am doing my best working off of what videos, vlogs, blogs, and Quora and Reddit answers for this. I'm very sorry if it's horribly inaccurate. Also it's idealized so it'd gonna be inaccurate 2) Covid never happened in this universe! Send-offs for everyone!

Dividers by @saradika

Warnings: She/Her Reader, sort of dissociating? ish?

Leave me comments or questions or anything! Love hearing from folks <3

Masterlist <3 | Prev Part | Next Part

“Yes, Ma, I promise I’m doing just fine,” You grunt into your phone, tucking the device between your cheek and shoulder as you juggle your groceries and try to dig out your keys, “No one has tried to mug me, I’m eating well, and the job is the same as the last time you called.”

You manage to both open your door and kick it shut as your mother replies, “I just worry about you dear. You’re so far away from us now, what if you need help?”

You waddle to your kitchen counter to offload your burdens, stretching your cramping fingers out as you go to properly hold your phone again.

“I know, Ma, but I’m sure I’ll make some friends with time and then they can help me out.” you finally reply with a sigh. You begin the arduous task of actually putting your groceries away, resigned to the fate of a functional adult.

You hear your sister bark out a laugh in the background. It’s possibly about hearing ‘you’ and ‘friends’ in the same sentence (Which, ouch. True, but ouch). You magnanimously ignore her.

“Honey, I love you, but it’s been almost a year. You have yet to tell me about a single friend.” Your Mom retorts. Again, ouch.

“I have Taylor!” You defend, slamming your fridge shut with a pout.

“Your roommate doesn’t count!” Your little sister taunts from the background. You hear your mother shush her but her agreement is implied when she doesn’t correct the little gremlin.

“He so does!” You argue, “We hang out in contexts that are not work or school, we eat meals together, and we’re even going to a concert this weekend! That’s friends! That’s best friends, even.” You sound a bit pathetic even to yourself, but the day your sister wins over you is the day you die.

“That’s a friendly roommate,” Is your sister’s amused response, “I bet you don’t even know what his favorite color is.” Your silence is answer enough, and she cracks up, laughing so hard that you hear a muted thump as she falls off of whatever furniture she’d been occupying.

Guess you’re dying today.

Your mother changes the subject to the goings-on of your hometown while your sister asphyxiates in the background. You’ve only been away for a little under a year now, but as you listen to her talk about which of your littlest cousins are starting school and which of your relatives are causing drama, you realize that it’s already been a little under a year.

You flop onto your couch as your mom babbles away, holding back an existential crisis.

Your fingers begin tracing the long-since memorized lines of your soulmark over your clothes as you ponder the passing of time, fully zoned out of your mother’s gossip. Your sister seems to catch on to your long silence, interrupting you mother to pester you into giving her more material to taunt you over.

“What concert are you going to, anyway?” She questions.

“Oh, it’s a K-Pop group called Stray Kids,” You tell her. You can practically feel her interest shrivel up and die as soon as you say K-Pop, bless her elitist, snobby, little heart. “Taylor likes them a lot, and his boyfriend dumped him last month, so I got some good tickets to cheer him up.”

Your mother coos at you briefly before your sister overtakes the conversation again, “Are they even good?” You can hear the sneer in her voice as she falls into Music Snob (tm) mode, so you roll your eyes when you reply.

“They’re fun to dance to when I’m doing chores, so that’s good enough for me.”

“You can’t even understand them.” She complains.

“I can, actually.” You inform her primly, “My language elective was Korean. I took the whole course.”

“You’re a weirdo.”

“Tell that to my sweet, sweet, degree, kiddo.” It’s finally your turn to taunt.

“Whatever, you’re not even going with a friend, just your roommate. How fun could it be?” She pouts back.

“I told you, we are friends! Best friends, even!”

“You still don’t know his favorite color.” She retorts smugly.

“I know his favorite flower, that’s gotta count for something!” Your mother hums in agreement, and you picture her watching your bickering like a tennis match, assigning points in her head.

“It doesn’t, because you know everyone’s favorite flower! You know the mail guy’s favorite flower! It’s like an obsession.” You picture your sister rolling her eyes at you, exasperation pouring off of her. The image makes you grin as you reply.

“Only if it’s still Jim. I haven’t been around to ask anyone new.” You point out. Reasonably, you think, but for some reason your sister lets out a loud groan of annoyance and you hear her exaggerated stomps ass she removes herself from your presence. Your mother lets out an amused little huff and you imagine you’ve won the tennis match in her head.

No death for you today. Score!

Your mom yaps with you for a little longer, before finally bidding you farewell, telling you that you should call more often (like you don’t chat literally every Friday afternoon like clockwork), tell your dad to come home soon if you happen to call him (you won’t. He won’t either), and tell her all about how the concert goes next week. You promise to do that one easily.

When she hangs up, you’re left with the ringing silence of an empty apartment. Moving to LA has been a quieter experience than you’re used to in general, for many reasons. Sure, the city itself is louder than your little suburb by miles, but life has been... More peaceful, since. Quieter.

It still makes you uneasy, even 10 months later.

You get up from the couch and drift off to your room like a ghost, opening Spotify on your way. The opening notes of Ruth B’s Lost Boy and a something nauseous swirling in your gut is all that follows you.

On concert morning, you’re woken up bright and early by your air-horn of a roommate slamming your door open.

“Concert daaaaaaaaay~” He trills at you from the doorway. You don’t even open your eyes when you roll over and throw a pillow at him in protest. A soft ‘oof’ tells you that you hit your mark for once. Nice.

“Nice shot!” Taylor cheers, “But now I have your ammo, so it’s up time.”

You roll over again, taking the edge of your blanket with you and tossing it over your head. You pull a stuffed animal under with you, and curl tightly around it.

“Nmf gmf.” You grumble at him through a mouthful of fluff.

“Nuh-uh!” Taylor tuts, already fluent in Morning Grumble, “We gotta get up. There’s food to be eaten, outfits to put on, and lines to beat!”

You let out a long, agonized, groan, but obligingly roll over and starfish out with childish protest. Taylor waits until you open your eyes to glare at his annoyingly cheerful blond bedhead before he leaves your doorway with a sunny smile. Smug bastard.

He leaves your door open too, the shit, allowing the sweet smell of french toast and eggs to drift into your room. You sit up with a whiney groan, scrubbing harshly at your face.

You’d forgive him this time. Just for the french toast.

You lean over to grab your phone from your bedside table, just waking the screen to check the time. When the numbers register you lay right the way back down with another long wail of protest.

Four in the morning. That french toast had better be fucking good.

You eventually stumble into the kitchen and are promptly handed a very large and very welcomed cup of coffee. Taylor hands you a plate piled high with french toast and eggs, fruits and toppings already out, before you can even try to start bitching at him.

You take in the spread with a furrowed brow, before slowly lifting your head to pin Taylor with a suspicious stare.

“My dude, it is four in the morning. How?”

Taylor just shrugs at you. “Couldn’t sleep. Too excited.”

You nod slowly at him. “I’ll drive. You’re napping in the car.”

This triggers a round of outraged whining from your sleep-deprived roommate, which you cull by pointing out that headaches and concerts are an awful combo. He subsides but insists he’ll be even more excited in the car, since it’s closer to concert time. You tell him to do it anyway.

“Why are we up so early in the first place?” You complain as you drain the last dregs of your drink. “The concert isn’t for, like, fifteen hours.”

“The concert is only fifteen hours away! Countdowns have already started, mark my words!” Taylor counters, “You got us Soundcheck tickets! VIP! We have to take advantage! I want the entire experience. Freebies, insane merch lines, sponsor booths, everything.” He gets more and more incensed as he goes on, leaning farther over the table, his shirt almost dragging in the puddles of syrup on his plate.

You raise your hands in surrender to his wild-eyed look. “Whatever,” You concede, “You’re the boss, this is your day.”

Taylor nods in satisfaction, leaning back. You notice that he actually does take some syrup with him as he re-seats himself. “As it should be.” Is his prim reply.

You sort of just laugh at him, and your routine of friendly bickering continues as the two of you make quick work of fixing up the kitchen.

You two split off to get ready, Taylor demanding a leave time of 6am sharp. You do your best to appease him, dressing up enough to say you put effort in, but paying mind to comfort over style. You’re putting the last touches on your eye liner when Taylor barges in.

You give him a stink eye for not knocking, which he blissfully ignores as he looks over you top to bottom. He summarily declares you “Good, but not good enough” and stampedes over to raid your closet.

At this point in your cohabitation you’ve learned to just let him do his thing when he gets like this. He doesn’t let you dress yourself when you go clubbing with his friends either, the jerk. Your fashion sense is perfectly acceptable, thank-you-very-much.

He tells you you’re being assigned a bias for today based on your wardrobe as he tosses you a white and navy stripped polo shirt and some navy sweatpants with racer strips on the side. He pulls up a reference photo on your phone and tells you to accessorize while he goes to find an appropriate tie from his stash for you.

Looking at the picture of Han Jisung on your screen, you admit that the outfit is pretty close already. You decide to leave the polo’s buttons undone, grabbing a white camisole to put on under. Your accessories take a bit longer, and you can’t see the shoes to match those, but Taylor seems satisfied enough when he comes back.

He hands you a tie and a handful of pins to complete your look and begins pushing you out the door before you can even put them on properly. When you protest this he insists that the two of you are running late, despite the concert still being more than 13 hours away.

You do, in fact, make him sleep in the car. He does not appreciate this, but early morning traffic can lull even the most dutiful of soldiers to sleep. He’s somehow even more chipper than usual when he wakes up, despite being groggy and bleary-eyed.

The crowd, when the two of you arrive, isn’t as big as you were expecting it to be. With all of Taylor’s rushing, you’d expected to barely be able to see the doors. The merch booth he was so excited about isn’t even open yet, and he settles the two of you into the line to enter the venue instead of camping there.

It’s immediately obvious who the extrovert between the two of you is, Taylor’s bouncy blond head beginning to duck and weave among the small crowd as soon as you claim your spot, laughs and excited exchanges popping up wherever he stopped. You, on the other hand, stay exactly where you’d been left and fiddle around on your phone, Taylor’s clear backpack abandoned in your arms.

You’re pretty sure this is purposeful on his part. You know each other well enough by now that he’s well aware of your tendency to stay planted once you’re settled. You’re definitely being used to stake out your spot. You steal one of his granola bars as payment for your services.

An hour or so drags through, and Taylor has thoroughly befriended most of the people around you. Once he’s decided that it’s about time to line up for some of the merch booths, Taylor leaves you in the tender care of the other fans as he goes to stake out a spot. He gracefully accepts both your wallet and your request of “a t-shirt and something they can sign”

The group of four people behind you, in particular, take his (only semi-joking) request of “take care of my introvert for me” seriously.

“So are you a Han bias?” One asks you as Taylor prances off. Her outfit is majority blue, little Bbokari (You can admit that the little characters charm you. You probably know their names better than the Stray Kids themselves) hair clips and keychains decorating her person.

You look down at yourself and then back up at her, almost having forgotten that you were dressed up as him. “Ah, no. Taylor, my friend, dressed me this morning. We’re here for him today. Though, he did say Han was my assigned bias today.” You laugh nervously, hoping they don’t judge your lack of knowledge.

Thankfully none of them seem discouraged by your response, giggling along with your little joke. In fact one of them, dressed head to toe in merch, seems almost excited by the prospect.

“Are you a baby Stay then?” She asks you with sparkling eyes. You wave your hands in front of yourself a bit defensively.

“Ah, no. I wouldn’t go that far. I like their music when Taylor plays it around the apartment, but I wouldn’t consider myself part of the fandom. This is actually my first k-pop experience in general.” You explain, “When I say we’re here for him, I mean I am here in total ignorance.”

Another girl, dressed in a loud assortment of colors you vaguely recognize from the music video Taylor had on loop in your living room for a week and a half when it dropped, lets out a low whistle. “Throwing you right into the deep end, huh? Hardcore.”

The group of you laugh a bit, the only guy in their group agreeing with, “Well if you’re not a fan now, you will be when you leave. Their performances are amazing, honestly.”

You absorb the gushing with an open heart, truly hoping for that to be the case. You take this opportunity to take the spotlight off of yourself.

“Oh, have you guys been to a Stray Kids concert before? It’s Taylor’s first.”

That question is the key to the floodgates, and you end up spending the next 3 and a half hours waiting for Taylor’s return (with text updates from the man himself, assuring you that he is still where he’s supposed to be) being regaled with tales of concerts, events, and comebacks past. You feel a bit like you’re getting a crash course in all things Stray Kids, phones often popping out to show you clips, fancams, and photos.

It makes you smile, feeling very included and welcomed as you occasionally pepper in a question or two to keep them going. It’s just like dinners at the apartment with Taylor, him unloading his stress through fandom, and you unloading yours through listening to his ramblings.

This is exactly why you came with him today.

Taylor makes his return loaded down with goodies both purchased and gifted by other fans, to which you welcome him by cheering loudly. This triggers your new group to do the same. Somehow, the five of you cheering leads to a large portion of the early crowd, which had grown by the hour, cheering with you.

You feel a bit shy at the power you apparently hold, and laugh about it with your new friends.

Eventually Taylor and Merch Girl (you hadn’t managed to catch any of their names, you realize belatedly. It’d be too awkward to ask now. You resolve to simply Not Address Them) split off to do more rounds among other fans, distributing their own freebies.

You hadn’t even realized Taylor had made freebies. You’re also not sure how he found the time. Love finds a way, you suppose.

The other group’s Token Guy Friend (who will always been Token Guy to you, so sorry Token Guy) passes the conversation back to you. Not appreciated, Token Guy.

You can’t be all that mad though, as he shuffles through his bag to produce a piece of paper and a chisel-tipped sharpie. He passes the items to you with a grin.

“If you’re close to the stage you should have a sign! You might get an interaction that way!” He enthuses. The remaining girls cheer at the idea, sighing over the possibility of you getting an interaction at your very first concert.

You hold back correcting them that it’s just your first k-pop concert. You’re sure that’s what they mean anyways, as the experience so far has been quite different from your usual.

You look at the items in your hand, and then back at him. He offers to let you use his back to write on. You once again stare between his meticulous outfit and the sharpie in your hand. You are so not going to ruin someone’s day with what was supposed to be a kind gesture.

You motion for him to wait a moment and dig around in your own bag for a moment, the seat cushion Taylor had insisted you bring slapping you incessantly from where it hangs as you shuffle both your shoulder bag and Taylor’s backpack around. Eventually you manage to pull out your travel first aid kit, pulling a gauze pad from it.

You unclip the seat cushion from your bag and place it on the ground, motioning for Token Guy to kneel. He does so bemusedly.

“I’m gonna make it fancy,” You inform him, “those random calligraphy classes from high-school aren’t going to fail me today.” He makes a noise of assent and you’re crowding over his bent back, unfurling the gauze pad to make a barrier between the paper and his shirt.

He and the girls make their conversation around you as you sink into concentration. It’s very difficult to make nice, even, lines on an uneven surface like a back, and you have to keep gently slapping Token Guy’s shoulder when he laughs to remind him not to move.

Taylor and Merch Girl have returned by the time you finish your sign, Taylor laughingly cautioning any of them from breaking your concentration for anything less than Token Guy’s health. Unless they wanted to face your Wrath(tm), of course.

His advice seems to have been heeded, because by the time you tune back into the outside world you have a sign with very pretty (and most importantly - legible) calligraphy that reads:

[HAN! You’ve been assigned as my bias today! Make me fall for you?]

You even took the time to add Korean translations in smaller script beneath each line. You also take the time to admire your own foresight for laying out the gauze pad, small black marks littering it’s surface. Token Guy seems equally impressed when he looks at it, before taking the initiative to trash both it and the wrapper for you.

Merch Girl reads your sign when you proudly hold it in front of yourself and cackles.

“So that’s why he really brought you along, huh?” She teases, elbowing Taylor like they’re old friends. He has that effect on people. “She can talk to them for you if the Aussie line isn’t around.” Taylor gives a sheepish laugh and a faux-guilty shrug.

“That, and she bought the tickets. I couldn’t leave her behind if I tried.” He pokes at you as he speaks, mirth dancing in his eyes. Laughter erupts around the group as you shout your offence, making to start roughhousing with him like you do your sister.

The time passes joyously this way until the doors finally open to begin letting people in for sound check.

You’re not gonna lie, you’re already super tired and peopled out. Luckily, Taylor had clocked you flagging before even you had, and sent you to sit in “introvert time out” on your cushion in a shaded spot away from the crowd. So you could make it through sound check and the actual concert. Probably.

You and Taylor pass through security unscathed, having already eaten or trashed any snacks or drinks you’d brought with you, and having not bothered bringing much else. Both of your bags were just full of merch and freebies at this point.

Once you actually enter the venue you take the lead, dragging Taylor by the wrist to your seats. You’re actually super excited to show him the seats you’d gotten, having kept anything beyond ‘soundcheck’ a secret.

Taylor is already vibrating with excitement as you lead him to the floor seats. He’s nearly trembling as you lead him right up the center, past rows and rows of little white chairs erected for the reserved seating tickets. When you finally sit him down right in front of the thrust stage, plopping into the seat beside him with satisfaction, he turns to you with saucer-wide eyes.

“Noo...” He whispers.

“Oh, yes.” You return, blessing him with a grin and little eyebrow wiggle.

Taylor basically tackles you in a hug, almost knocking you into the person next to you, and squeals his thanks so loudly that you’re sure the entire stadium hears. When he’s done thanking you he pulls back, hands on your shoulders, with the most deadly serious eyes you had ever seen on him.

“I would die for you.” He intones lowly. You crack first, the two of you breaking into a giggle fit that was almost concerning with it’s intensity. When the two of you calm down and turn to settle and sit properly, he nudges your shoulder with his.

“Seriously,” He says, eyes soft, “You’re the best ever. You need anything from today on? I’m your guy.”

You chuckle at him, nudging him back, “Do my dishes for the next month, then.” You tease.

He rears back, hands up in joking surrender, “Woah, woah! Let’s not go that far! I meant if you needed to escape from the mob or something, not chores.” He gives an exaggerated shudder before breaking into his usual silly grin.

The two of you spend the next however long indulging in familiar banter, waving at the group of fans you’d made friends with outside when you spotted them not terribly far away, and generally recharging your batteries for the concert. Taylor eventually moves on to talking to the people around you, and you rest your head on his shoulder.

You close your eyes for just a moment, trying to turn the lights off in your brain for a bit. You really needed the music to start soon, you were going to fall asleep.

Almost as if in answer to your prayers, the group begins trickling on stage for sound check.

To be honest, both soundcheck and the concert pass in a blur for you.

Once things kick off, you’re swept away in a wave of cheers, music, and lights. You hadn’t expected front row seats to be quite as intense as they were, but you made a note to yourself to not book such tickets for yourself in the future.

You couldn’t really handle it.

Still, Taylor seems to have the time of his life, and you manage to immerse yourself in the concert enough to shake your sign at Han when he passes by, earning yourself a wink and a cheek heart. Taylor was nearly euphoric at having caught the interaction with his phone camera.

By the time it’s over, you’re fairly sure you had a good time, but also 100% sure that you were completely overwhelmed. Taylor manages to drag you to the send off that you paid for spots at anyway. Curse his charming, sunny demeanor.

You can’t really process how it happened at this point, but you end up practically pinned to the railing of the barricade at the send-off location, separated from Taylor, and clinging to your façade of an excited fan with a white knuckled grip. You have three things on you to get signed, and a mission from Taylor to get all three scribbled on.

Your sign for Han, a ballcap Taylor had customized, and a Lee Know photocard Taylor had entrusted to you with a gravity you weren’t sure it warranted. He had, like, three of the same one.

You try to drum up the determination to see your mission through, but find it difficult to dredge up any will at all.

Time waits for no man, however, and soon enough the members begin making their way through, delivering high-fives, autographs, and aegyo as they pass through. You end up squished almost violently to the railing, ducking a bit and making yourself as small as possible as hands, phones, and items all get waved around and over you.

You’re not sure you like send-off.

There’s so many noises and sights and smells that you have a really hard time keeping track of which member is where. Plus, you’re still a lot overwhelmed from lining up before dawn and the concert itself. You’re tired, you’re cranky, and you want to go home.

At some point Lee Know must pass by you, and you must have presented the photocard properly, because you have a signed one now. That’s cool. The faster you get the requested autographs, the faster you can leave.

Bangchan spawns in front of you from the aether, from your point of view. You may be a bit more out of it than you’d like to admit. Still, you dutifully hold out your ballcap for him to sign, exchanging post-concert niceties on pure autopilot.

Because you’re not all that present at the moment, or maybe because all you’d had was your breakfast and some granola bars in the last 13 hours, you don’t hold your balance the way you should when someone shoves at you from behind. You catch yourself on the railing, but you dropped the freshly signed cap.

Bangchan kindly stoops to pick it up for you, and you thank him. A couple of things happen very quickly at that point.

1) Unlike the first two exchanges of the cap, because of the awkward and quick nature of Bangchan’s action, it is no longer being handed to you with lots of space between your hand and his.

2) You’re still being jostled around. No matter how much you brace for the impact of the bodies surrounding you, you couldn’t possibly keep totally still.

3) These two things have a consequence. Your hand brushes Chan’s as he hands you the cap.

The world stops for you for a moment, as pins and needles stab into dozens of familiar spots all across your lower abdomen. You freeze, dumb, awkward, overwhelmed smile plastered to your face as Bangchan turns away from you.

The pain isn’t that bad, really, more like a bad period cramp mixed with a sleeping limb waking up. Still, you curl your arm around your stomach, and your body bows with the motion. As if you could protect your reality from shattering and reshaping itself in front of you.

Static fills your ears and your poor, overloaded, brain throbs with the beginnings of a migraine.

Bangchan is your soulmate.

International k-pop sensation Bangchan is one of your eight soulmates.

Bangchan is part of a group with eight members.

Your soulmate is already moving away from you, your minor interaction just a footnote of his day, the tingling pain of your soulmate bond awakening probably blending in with a thousand other minor aches and pains from a very physically intense day for him.

You come back to clarity with the resolve that you’d like it to stay that way.

With a sense of urgency, you look around the crowd you’re part of, noting distinct faces and colors for the first time. You’re not really sure what you’re looking for until you spot it, and suddenly your escape plan is fully formed.

There, just a couple shoves and elbow throws away, is Blue Bbokari Girl from this morning.

You struggle your way over, people falling into the space you’d left at the railing like a pack of hyenas on fresh meat. When you reach her you the gently at her sleeve to get her attention.

She turns to you with confusion first, a bright greeting next, and finally a concerned scrunch of her brow as she takes in your hunched form.

“Hey, I’m feeling kind of sick, can you help me get out of the crowd?” You’re sure you look convincingly pathetic and weak as you plead with her. If only because you really did feel pathetic and weak at the moment.

“Oh, of course, hun! Just a moment.” She begins to crane her neck around to scan the crowd like you’d done moments prior. You feel a bit bad for interrupting her night like this, but as she calls out to someone behind her, you’re more thankful than anything.

Blue Bbokari Girl successfully gets the attention of someone you don’t recognize, and a quick summary of, “She’s sick, help her leave!” shouted over the crowd has you being passed through the crowd unmolested.

You find yourself enveloped in a chain of fans, one passing you to another, pausing, and calling on someone else to pass you to until you’ve finally stumbled free of the send-off mob.

Feeling a bit like you’d just been spat out of the maw of a great creature, you look back at the rustling crowd, now looking like it had never been disturbed at all.

The last lady who had finally freed you, an older woman with a Jiniret picket, eyes you with concern as you put you back to the nearest wall and slide down it.

“Will you be okay, sweetie?” She questions you worriedly, “Do you have anyone to pick you up?”

You smile weakly at her and assure her that you just have to get ahold of your roommate and he’d get you home safe and sound. She tries to insist on waiting with you, but you persuade her to return to the crowd with promises that you’d make your way to a bathroom or security guard once the worst of your vertigo had passed.

You watch her return with morbid fascination, amazed when she just sort of gets absorbed back into the mass of people. Almost like it ate her. You once again marvel at making it out of such a thing unscathed.

Truth be told, your stomach was only sore and tender this point, the sharp, needle-point pains long gone. Still, you take a moment to bring your knees to your chest, just breathing as you press your forehead to them. If anyone were to look at you then, you wonder what they’d think of you curled up on the floor and trembling like your dog had just died.

You hope they’d view you with kindness.

After giving yourself a moment to just feel, though you couldn’t tell anyone what you had felt, you gather yourself enough to totter to your feet and drag yourself to the nearest bathroom. You text Taylor as you go.

[Hey. Felt sick, in bathroom rn. lmk when we can leave pls?]

Perma Tag List: @mbioooo0000

[madamspellmans-met-tet]

🍷Illicit Affairs🍷┃ Ch. 3

Lilia Calderu x fem!reader

wc: ~ 3.2 k

summary: Lilia has a stressful day at work and wants nothing more than to enjoy a hot bubble bath—but she is interrupted.

*******************************************

All of Lilia’s pants had been in the washing this morning, leaving her with no other choice but to wear a pencil skirt that she didn’t dare bend over in for fear it might rip. The new concierge had been paying her enough attention today without the need for a spectacle. Who was she kidding? She would’ve laughed her pretty ass off if it would’ve happened. 

She drove home through the dense autumn fog after her shift and nearly ran into an unfortunately positioned trash can, but after a day of yelling at people to get their shit together because the hotel inspectors were bound to show up any day now as they did every year, she didn’t have an ounce of energy left to work herself up about it. Her scalp ached from a day of wearing her hair tightly pinned up, even now that she’d tugged it loose. 

In her driveway, she left the car without her parka but regretted it as soon as she'd stepped out. She was plucking the house keys from her bag when the front door opened. Alice came out with her hair curled and a tinge of scarlet on her lips that matched the ends of her fringe—a highly unusual sight. 

"Mh, where are you going?" Lilia sang. 

"Just Stephen's."

"Stephen." She weighed the name on her tongue. "He has a name. So it's serious."

"Well, we've had a few nice dates, and he's—he's a good guy, mamma, I promise. Even mom said so, and she—"

The house key dug into her palm as she clenched her fist around it. "Lorna has met him?"

“He was in the area, and—and you don’t like men.”

She huffed, blinking the ache away, swallowing, and nodded. While she might not have the same interest in men that Lorna did, she would have hoped Alice knew she would never mock her for dating one. Didn't she know that she loved her no matter what?

Alice sighed, a breath heavy with guilt. “Are you mad, mamma?”

“No.” She stepped closer and fixed Alice's lipstick with the edge of her red nail, holding her face between thumb and index finger. The smile didn't reach her eyes. “Just sad.”

Alice pulled her into a hug and squeezed tight, squishing her cheek against Lilia's as she'd done since she was a little girl. Lilia put her hand on the back of her head and felt the hurt in her chest melt away. Even when she drew away, Alice kept her arms looped around her neck, and Lilia put her hands on them, rubbing her thumbs in crescents. "You look beautiful, piccinia. Bellissima."

"Thanks." Alice smiled and let go of her. "I'm off now." She kissed Lilia's cheek. "Don't wait up for me."

She set about to leave, but Lilia stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. "Wait. Have you heard from my docezza? She left so suddenly after the concert—"

"She cancelled band practice this week. Not sure what's going on, but I'll give her a call tomorrow."

Lilia took the information in, but it did nothing to quell her worries. Her mind went spinning with possibilities of what could've happened. "Va bene. Have fun, my love." 

"Bye, mamma."

She ran off with a wave, and Lilia looked after her for a moment before going inside. It was quiet. Her house was hardly ever quiet. Having Alice live with her again after the divorce had ensured it stayed that way, but now she was once again leaving the nest. When Alice had first left for college, it had thrown her into a midlife crisis that had led to her ripping the tapestry off the walls one night and then renovating the whole house. This time, she was developing a crush on the sinfully much younger best friend of her daughter.

She tossed everything aside—her bag, her coat, her shoes—and went to the bathroom to open the tap and draw herself a hot bath. Letting the water run, she headed for the bedroom to fetch her bathrobe, reading glasses, and the copy of Wicked Witch on her nightstand. While she was at it, she let her clothes pool at her feet and stood naked in front of the floor-length mirror. 

-> continue

[kimingyuslover]

Missed Connections

Synopsis : You swear you can tolerate anything because this is an unwanted marriage to him, but why's this one hurts so much?

Word count : 2,716 and some change

pairing : Choi seungcheol x fem!reader

Genre : arranged marriage!au, contract marriage!au, strangers to *** ***** ***** to exes, angst, slight fluff.

Warnings : angst, tears, italic means person on the other side of the phone & message, chaebol!reader, chaebol!seungcheol, ceo!reader, ceo!seungcheol (not mentioned), like 1 curse word, implied cheating? (Seungcheol goes on a date because his toxic friends say so), Seungcheol is a jerk boo 🍅🍅, mentions of pregnancy (reader is pregnant), mom!reader, slight Joshua x reader, this fic does not represent his character in real life!

★ yes, i cried while writing this, Seungcheol's sucks

☆ check out my other works > main masterlist

The sun peeked through the window of his bedroom, which once was shared with you. He opens his eyes groggily, his eyes adjusting the sunlight that goes to his eyes.

Surprise, it's a word that will describe his expression right now, seeing a divorce file on his nightstand with a pen on top of the paper, lying peacefully waiting to be used by him.

“What the fuck?” he mumbles with his raspy and sleepy voice.

He thinks he might be dreaming, that when he sleeps again and opens his eyes, you're on his side while he's hugging you tightly, his morning will start with your kisses and this all was just in his head.

But it's not. When he slaps his cheek, it hurts. It feels so real.

And then, when he realised that the divorce file was real, he hurriedly searched for his phone, wanting to call the person he knew so well but also didn't.

“The divorce paper, you've already signed it? i'll pick up my stuff and take the paper with my lawyer” you said on the other side, voice sounding so enchanting but so cold, like he never heard before.

Your voice usually sounds like it's coated with warmth and sweetness, but now it's just filled with coldness.

he forgot when he first saw you, you were given the cliche title ‘ice queen’ by the employees.

“Why’s there a divorce paper on my nightstand? Why are you not here? In the bed, with me” Seungcheol said, hurt evident in his voice.

“What do you think seungcheol? you're finally free, you can go out as much as you want with your so-called friends, you don't have to worry that head more, our company will still be concerted, and the best part, you can go freely with that woman of yours” Seungcheol furrowed his eyebrows with confusion.

“Why–

you cut him off before he even speaks, “i call off our arranged marriage, Seungcheol. you said it yourself, that you, Mr. Choi, does not want this marriage from the first you saw me, and that was proven when I saw you with a woman, in a fancy restaurant, just both of you, not with anyone else and I learned the fact that your friends told you to do that.

Our arguments will lead to one of us leaving the house that once you promised we'll build together with love, and I just have to be patient. When I saw you with her, I realised that was the beginning of our marriage's downfall, so I made the decision that would not leave negative comments from everybody else, so your company will not have a backlash from the stockholders even if it's hurting me in the process.

You promised me, Choi Seungcheol. to take care of me, try to love me, and even have the audacity to tell me to be patient with your heart. I've done all of that, but what you have given me is just aching in my heart over and over again.

My friends already told me that this marriage was bad for me and will hurt me in the end, but I'm blinded by your love bombing act, and I was so naive that I thought you will ever love me back, that we will have a happy family, with 4 children, 3 boys and 1 girl. we'll live anywhere i want, you said back then.

Do you know how much I cried that night? when I saw you with her, and when I knew that you and me would never have the happy family we once planned?

That day, I was going to tell you about me getting pregnant, but I guess fate doesn't want us to be together because they know it’s better for me to hurt now than later.

Tomorrow will be the last time i'm going to go there, and the final court will be the last time I saw you” after finishing the words that you've planned to give him right when he calls you, you hung up the phone, not giving him any chance to replied because you know, when you heard his voice your heart will hurt more.

Seungcheol drops his phone onto his bed sheet. He tries to recall the memory, and when he does, there's a hard pang in his heart.

regret started to fill up his figure, and he rushed towards the bathroom to take a shower.

He's planning to meet you today to talk about your marriage, hopefully not for the last time.

“Is Mrs. Choi here?” Seungcheol said to the receptionist at your company.

She hesitates at first, then starts to speak, “i'm sorry, but it's Ms. Hong and she does not want anybody, especially you, Mr. Choi to go to her” she says.

Seungcheol has tried to call you again and again and again, determined to fix the marriage he ruined.

and his heart hurts even more when he reads your chatroom. It's him who sent the last message, and you left him on read.

You know what? you're too naive, too invested in our relationship, and that's why it's not working. Can't you be more patient? i have my own things to do

He knew he was being a jerk when he sent that to you, but back then, he's heating up because of your arguments that are constantly happening.

Tears start to fall from his eyes, all you need is love, to which he promised will give you his, he should be grateful that you still give chance after chance even though you know that he will still be like that.

he drives to your penthouse, your summer house, your cabin, and even your house, but you're not there.

as he went to his car with disappointment on his face, someone called his name.

“What are you doing here, Seungcheol?” He freezes and it hurts. You usually call him with terms of endearment, but now you just call him by his name, which he hates so much if it's coming from your mouth.

Seungcheol runs to you. Wanted to hug you, but he halted his plan when he saw you looking at him like you used to before he was introduced by your parents as your soon-to-be husband, so cold with no emotion behind that oculus of yours.

He explains everything, telling you that his friend makes him go on lunch with the woman you saw. He even goes as far as kneeling in front of you.

“But you still go on a date with her? Even when you don't want to? i've said it to you countless times. i can tolerate anything because this is an arranged marriage, but cheating is an exception” you said while looking down at him because of his position. You don't even bother to usher him to get up from his knees. Seungcheol frowns at your words, but you're right. When his friend told him, he could refuse it, but he didn't.

His words caught up on his throat. He can't say anything anymore, because at the end of the day, he knew that his action was so sinful because for god damn sake, he's married to you!

“You're funny, Choi Seungcheol” You left him kneeling on the ground while going back to your car. You managed to hold your tears in front of him because you're not willing to let your tears fall for a boy who's not even a man.

When you're already gone with your car, Seungcheol gets up to his knees, and he realises that he hasn't even asked about the baby.

“Don't worry, my love, mommy will protect you, no matter what” you said while caressing your baby bump.

It's been approximately 4 months of your pregnancy, and 4 months since you're not on the same roof with Seungcheol.

You know you'll stress out yourself if you stay in that house, and you can't risk that.

You've been staying in a hotel for the past months, but luckily for you, your sister-in-law has a 5 star hotel, so you won't have to search for it.

[ఇ ◝‿◜ ఇ]

The first court is today, and you're going there with your lawyer and your sister-in-law (Soo-jung) because she says she wants to help you, and you thanked her for that.

You show up with a white dress, black blazer, your Jimmy choo pumps, and white birkin as the cherry on top.

Seungcheol saw you with adoration in his eyes, thinking, Why can't he see you like this when your marriage is still there?

He doesn't want to make eye contact with anyone with you and yourself, but when he does make an eye contact with Soo-jung or you he will divert his eyes to look somewhere that isn't you or her.

He's scared, what even your family will think about his family, about him? after he hurt you and you being pregnant was not helping.

Now it's your final court. This time, you dress differently, you're wearing white shorts, a brown thin belt, soft-pink Ralph Lauren button-up, a white lady dior, and a white slingback kitten heels with your baby bump that's already showing.

He feels guilt start building up in his body when the judge knocks his hammer three times, and he's trying his best not to spill his tears every second now.

he hears several footsteps going to him when he looks at you with his tear filled eyes.

you open your mouth while crossing your hands in front of your chest, then you speak, “Take care of your health, don't eat junk food like you liked to, this baby will get a new father soon, but i will still introduce you to them”

As soon as you finish your sentence, you start to walk away with your lawyer, brother, and sister-in-law (who gives him a disappointed and angry look).

[ఇ ◝‿◜ ఇ]

It's been years since your divorce, but Seungcheol is still a mess. He can't blame anyone but himself for this one.

After the divorce, he cut all of his friends who told him to go on a date that day. He’s in denial for years, even when he knows that they're giving a bad influence to him.

He goes on a lot of interviews, and he never fails to mention you in his interview, hoping you will see him on tv shows and better yet, with his child.

You, on the other hand, are already living your best life with your son, you’ve given birth to him 4 and a half years ago, and now he's your most favorite person in this universe.

You decide to move to Switzerland when Minjun– your son (Hong Minjun, Edward Hong) turns 1 year old.

There you met Minjun's dad, who happens to have the same surname as yours, Joshua Hong or Hong Jisoo because that's his Korean name.

You hesitate at first to be in a commitment because of your past, but Joshua makes it clear that you can trust him, and everything will be fine.

Joshua is a gentleman, a man who you dreamed off everytime you doze off, a man of words and action, and you really want Minjun to be like him when he's older.

Minjun characteristics start showing up lately, and just as you expected, he's already being a mini gentleman to you, and the manner that you and Joshua taught him is prominent with his actions and words.

You're proud of him, and you finally get your highest dream.

Having a happy family has been your dream for as long as you can remember, even when Joshua's not Minjun's biological father, but he acts like one and Minjun, too, acts like Joshua's biological son.

[ఇ ◝‿◜ ఇ]

Joshua decided that this month he and you will go back to Korea for the Christmas holiday, because for the last 3 years it's always been your family to come to Switzerland.

You can't forget how happy your parents and your brother's family look when they see you coming home with Minjun and Joshua.

“I miss my daughter so much. How have you been, sweetheart?” your mother said while hugging you, which you replied with a ‘i'm fine, mother’ and a wide smile on your face.

The next day, you're going to have a visit to your company in Seoul, and so you bring Minjun with you because Joshua is having a meeting and probably will be back at dawn.

“Minjun, are you excited to see mommy's office?” you ask Minjun when the light goes red, which Minjun replies with an excited nod and wide grins, “yes! I am so excited!” Minjun said with Korean and an accent.

The security, receptionist and your workers still remember you, they even try to get in a conversation with Minjun which brings a smile to your face.

“Minjun, will you wait here in Mommy's office while Mommy is getting our lunch?” you said while crothed to his height and holding both of his tiny hands.

Minjun nodded at your words, “can i play with secretary Jeon Mommy?” he asked, and this time it's your turn to nod your head, “yes, you can”

You already told your secretary to watch Minjun, so you don't need to worry.

You walk to the café near your company building, it's been your favorite place since you moved to this branch of your company.

When you get your order, you take a seat on the side of the road.

Not so long after, there's someone who sat in front of you, and when you saw him you furrowed your eyebrows.

“What are you doing here, Seungcheol?” The same question from those years threw Seungcheol off guard, the bad memories he never wants to remember.

“This used to be, or is it still your favorite place to go for lunch, and i miss you so i came here, what i didn't expect is you're going to be here” Seungcheol said, there's defeated plastered on his face.

“How's your life?” You begin, so the tension can be lowered a bit.

“Messed up, after our divorce. How's yours?” he replied with simplicity.

“Amazing. He's 4 and a half now, his name is Hong Minjun and since i'm not living in Korea he uses his foreign name too, Edward Hong” you said referring to the baby you carried when you're getting a divorce with him.

“Where is he?”

“Playing with secretary Jeon”

“I think i can't do this anymore, I'm sorry, i was an asshole back then. I swear I changed! just give me a chance, please” Desperate sounds so clear, and you look at him in disapproval.

“I have given you chances, over and over, but you throw it away like it meant nothing”

Even after you replied to him with that, he still begged you to come back to him, tears in his eyes mirroring how desperate he is.

He is still doing it until someone calls your name and a little boy runs to you, calling you mommy.

That's when he realised in front of him is his son, that he failed to protect.

And when he gets up when he sees you do the same, he turns his head to the man who calls your name.

There's when his heart drops to his stomach, thoughts running a hundred miles per hour, thinking of the worst scenario in his head, that the man in front of him is your—

“Y/n's husband, Joshua Hong”

Your husband, and that means he never got the chance to make you his anymore.

The tension can be seen by anyone passing by, an ex-husband who hurt his ex-wife deeply, and the current husband who treats his wife like a princess.

Joshua breaks the awkward silence after Seungcheol introduces himself with, “Let’s go, my love, your mother sends a location to the restaurant we're going to eat for lunch” with a smile that Seungcheol swears he wants to rip from Joshua’s kind face.

You replied to Joshua with a smile, and you three excuses yourself from Seungcheol and went to Joshua’s car.

Seungcheol had his heart broken again, and the reason is still the same.

You.

Oh, there's addition for the cause of his broken heart.

You and Minjun.

[3cremepie3]

Winter concert

Synopsis - ANGST & SMUT 18+! CATER X FEM READER! You find out about Caters saddening behavior and do everything in your power to take him out of that dark headspace. You're in love with him after all.

Warnings - mentions of self-harm, scars, cvtting, smut, unprotected sex, creampies, declarations of love

A/n - at the end of the story. This is pretty heavy pls read all tags. AND MERRY Christmas 🎄!! ANGST & SMUT 18+! CATER X FEM READER!

“Oh my god you guys were amazing,” you gushed. “I can’t believe you broke your guitar right in front of Crowley Lilia! And Kalim don’t even get me started on that drum break,” you rambled.

“Thank you Y/n,” Kalim gleamed. “Our biggest fan strikes again,” Lilia says. “Of course look what I made you guys.” You laid out a poster you made of them on the auditorium floor.

The crowd was bustling in the background leaving the venue but you could still hear their oos and ahhs. “We love it,” Lilia and Kalim cheered. Cater smiled too but was quieter than his usual demeanor.

Kalim ended up taking the poster home with him promising he would hang it up. And Lila left soon after him with Silver and Sebek fanboying. Cater was still at the venue putting his guitar in his sticker-covered case.

“You’re always the last to pack up,” you say. “Taking responsibility for those messy boys I guess? He shook his head picking up his amp. You watched the muscles in his lean arms flex while he did so. “Why are you so quiet today Cater?” He was your crush you could notice any change in his behavior.

“Something happened I don’t know about,” you questioned. As your guy's unofficial manager I demand to know,” you bluffed. “You know about it.” He groaned and mumbled at the same time making his words drawn out but quiet. “Then tell me! Or I’m gonna steal this!” You pouted grabbing his guitar case before he could get to it.

“Y/n pls,” he sighed deeply clearly irritated. “Just tell me,” you giggle. He runs after you almost catching you until he falls over a speaker cord. “Jesus Cater I’m sorry.” You say rushing over to him he falls flat on his pretty face.

“Fuck!” He cussed harshly while getting off the ground. It’s obvious he had a bad day. You grabbed his hand helping him up off the slippery stage floors. While you did so you noticed his sleeve roll up. You couldn’t help but glance at the fresh scars lined up across his wrist.

They were a burning bright red contrasting across his pale skin. “Cater…,” you trailed. He grabbed his arm away from your hand quickly pulling down his sleeve along with it. “Wait Cater I’m sorry,” you called after him.

"You can talk to me I didn’t mean to be intrusive," you stated. He exited the doors quickly ignoring your pleas. "Swear I won't tell anyone," you insisted. You chased after him carrying the gift you made in his honor. He stayed quiet continuing his walk to the chamber of mirrors. "Cater please I don't want you to keep doing this to yourself!"

You had both finally come to a halt stopping at the hall of mirror doors. You watched as expression changed through the many reflective lenses. "You're always so god damn nosy Y/n. Why can't you just leave me alone," he screamed.

"Well, that's because I love your guy's work. Truly I do You are all very talented." Talented my ass," Cater huffed. "What do you mean," you interrupted. "Im nothing but a fuck up! My work up there was sloppy and offbeat and I don't deserve to be in a club with people that much more talented than me."

"Everywhere I go I feel like I'm lagging behind everyone." Cater breaking away from his normally cheerful demeanor would normally make you excited since you were seeing the real him. But this was different. "Cater... I didn't expect any of this and I'm sorry if I annoy you."

"But I'm only around you so much because I care about you. I love the music you make and even if you do badly in a performance that's what you have practices for. People are never going to be perfect that's the point of having so much time in life so you can use it to improve. Also, I couldn’t hear one mistake up there but maybe that’s just my untrained ears,” you thought.

For a moment everything was silent you had imagined that what you said probably felt like useless rambling to him. And After what felt like 10 minutes of silence he turned around to your begging face. "Do you mean that?" Of course I do baby," You smile. He swears it's the brightest thing he's ever seen so blinding it could take away all his senses for an eternity.

"Cater you're only 18 years old. I know on social media you see all these people with the luxuries of grown adults but they set unrealistic standards. In my eyes, you're doing well." You grab his freckled hand and squeeze it. His palms are sweaty and his eyes are searching yours for any hint of lying.

"You have good grades," you say. "Well that's because of Riddle," he admits. "He may have had some influence but you keep them up mostly yourself otherwise that collar would be on your neck right now," you giggle. "And you have more clout than any of my socials combined!"

"That's because I spam posts with hashtags," he frowns. "So do thousands of others and who did the algorithm pick up?" You raised your eyebrows waiting for an answer. "Me," he smirks. "Yeah, you Cater you're my favorite niche micro internet celebrity."

"Really," he gasps. "Yes, your magicam is so aesthetically pleasing I can't help but cyberstalk you sometimes." Woah creepy much," he teases. "You know you love having fans." You playfully roll your eyes. "Thank you for this Y/n I really appreciate it."

His voice dropped from its "normal" high pitch when he stated this making you wonder if the Cater you knew wasn't the real him all along. "Anytime really." You grab both of his hands not wanting to ever let go. "Get a room," a drunken savannaclaw student yells. He pushes past the both of you entering the hall of mirrors.

“Asshole,” you suck your teeth. "Look Cater I know recovery may seem far ahead right now but it's best to stop before things get out of hand." You're both entering the hall of mirrors as you speak. Just as he's nearing the Heartslybul dimension you mumble "I can't afford to lose you too."

"Y/n." He turns around to see you in tears.” Sorry I’m such a baby,” you laugh. "Please don't cry over me I'm right here." You're instantly pulled into his arms he embraces your trembling form. "Cater let me spend the night please itll give me peace of mind," you beg.

"Riddle would kill me if he knew a girl was in my room are you kidding me," he huffed. "Well sneak me in," you demanded. "Come on I know you sneak in magicdash all the time Ace and Duece tell me so.” Fine just follow my league."

When you get to the dorm it’s dark it’s been at least an hour past bedtime. You and Cater creep down the halls careful not to knock into the many statues and card decor. "My rooms up this way." He guides you by the hand sending shivers up your spine. You always dreamed of him touching you past friendly pats on the back. Finally, after endless halls you make it.

"Now I see why I've never been here before why is your room so far away? It was the only place I could get a room to myself after the house wardens changed." He removes his shoes and jacket plopping down on his bed. You stand up taking a look around his room.

"So where’s the weapon of interest," You asked. You took a seat at his desk chair turning it around to face his bed. "Ahh why did I invite you here," he sighs. "So I could help you remember?" You glance over at his slumped form. “Fine it's in that lockbox." he points to underneath his dresser. There's a small safe-like box that you remember him getting in the silk city.

"You gotta open it i don't have the key." You can tell he's hesitant as you walk over to him. You sit next to him on the bed watching as he fiddles with the passcode. "I promise you you're gonna feel so much better after this." He opened the box revealing sharp razor blades. Some you could tell were used.

You couldn’t help but frown seeing the sight. How could someone so perfect hurt themselves like that? "You're gonna be so proud of yourself after you get rid of them.” You rub his shoulder and without parting your lips further encourage him to get rid of them. But he still makes no moves "Come on you got this," you challenge. He freezes in place for a minute.

He thinks a little harder about your words. "And how would you know? You keep saying you know what's good for me and you haven't experienced shit." You have all the friends in the world here? His face cringes at your calm one peering back at him.

Looking into his eyes you could tell they were hurt bloodshot red from crying. You know this is triggering for him since you're seeing him how no one else does. The him without his happy-go-lucky facade. "I didn't wanna have to do this." You get off the bed and he watches as you strip down to your underwear.

You blush heavily reavling your body. "There's so many," he winces. He should ask but he can't help but feel your skin. Your scars cover your thighs in long streaks many of them so deep he wonders how you didnt have to go to the infirmary. Your upper arms right above your sleeves also hold some.

"I made sure to hide them where no one could see unless they undressed me. Guess that's why I can't keep a boyfriend I refuse to have sex with them because of this," You laugh to hide your pain. "I'm sorry,” he says eyes dropping to the floor. You huff going to grab your shirt to put back on. "I had to let you see this ugly part of me. So you can know at one point I felt the same level of emptiness.”

"You're anything but ugly." He pulls your body into his giving you a tight hug. You can tell he doesn't want to let go and is caught up in the moment since he's hugging your half-naked form. "What I see is a person that was trying to hide their struggles eventually break through from them and stop altogether." These scars are all healed." he said admiring your plush thighs. “And their fading I can tell you haven’t done it for months.”

Eventually, he realizes how and where he caressing you his actions his brain deemed as sweet now affecting him truly. "Shit I'm sorry I must seem like a perv," he cussed letting you go. "It’s okay," you chuckle. You kiss his cheek "I know you didn't mean it like that sweet boy." His face turns a bright red your kneeling over him on his bed and all he can see is your cleavage through your bra.

"You can heal too Cater I know you can. I got to into my head about being brought here to twisted wonderland and was sad that I lost everything. My family, house, friends, even my trifling schoolmates. Then I reflected and realized I was probably brought here for a reason. I believe everyone has a purpose and you will find yours. It may not be in this school and that’s alright.”

"I thought of all the friends I made. Like Ace and Grim oh and you of course though my feelings for you were a little different," you added. "Are you saying what i think youre saying," he asked. "Yes Cater I love with you with my whole heart. Don’t ever forget it and if you would allow me too… I want to be one with you. Youre the only person to see me for everything I truly am." One of his hands goes to the smooth of your back while the other interlocks with your own.

"I feel the same way Y/n im so sorry for what i said earlier. It’s just I thought you were happy I was such a idiot for not realizing. In the end I just pushed you away.” It’s okay maybe I was great at hiding it after all just never blame yourself. And don’t ever be mean to me again I had to try not to cry,” you pouted. "I promise i wont from now and to forever." Mark that promise with a kiss," You demand your arms wrapping themselves behind his head. He does so his tounge tracing around your unfimilar mouth. You quickly get used to how hungry he is taking the limited breaths of air he gives you not for granted.

His hands draw down to your panties removing the garments and tossing them somewhere into his room. “Can I touch you,” he asks. You shake your head pulling his hands further down your body. “This is a little more than a kiss,” you tease. You feel him smirk onto your mouth not stopping for anything.

He grips your ass pulling you down onto his crotch. You can feel his hard on as you grind down. The tension is delicious as his mouth further engulfs yours. There’s nothing more you guys can share as you devour each other. By the time you pull away your face is covered your connected spit.

His hands move you at a steady tempo. The thick fabric of his jeans make you wish he wore leggings as you can’t feel him as much as you need him. “Cater if you’re comfortable can you take off your pants?” Anything for you precious.” He speaks while peeling off his pants his legs are all clear thankfully.

“You’re lucky I trust you very few have seen this package,” he brags. You giggle while bringing yourself down on him. You both only have a thin layer of clothing stopping you from greatness. But you’re to scared to ask him if he wants to go that far.

He’s already gave you a lot tonight trusting you with his business . “I’m surprised,” you say between breathes. “That you aren’t tryna take pictures right now,” you joke. “I won’t post them of course but can I,” he pleads. “Wanna save them for later!”

“Fine I have something post worthy,” you winked. He blushed at your behavior. You grabbed his jaw forcing him to receive the many kisses you gave him. “Look at you baby!” You handed him a mirror to show his lipstick stained face and lips.

“Wow this is totes postable if you want me to of course.” Of course I want you too,”you smiled. “Don’t you want me to show you off?” Everyone at school would freak out but yeah I’d love that.” Fine then later on it’s posted but for now there’s something else I need to focus on.”

“You’ve been making me feel good with all your sweet words dear and you deserve to feel the same way.” His hands dipped into your waistband sending butterflies tumbling in your stomach. “I’ve never done-.” Shh just let me handle it relax okay?”

Your legs parted for him allowing him to enter inside of you. His fingers were long and slender while two of them worked at slowly stretching you another one traced your clit. He watched your cute reactions in admiration “you’re so sensitive.”

“Does it feel good,” he asked. “Yes you’re doing so well.” You bit your lip trying to hold back your moans. Your eye contact was strong as he worked your hole. “Mmm you’re so wet baby you hear that?”

“Cater that’s so embarrassing stop,” you whined. “It’s sexy knowing you like this so much.” All for me huh? Yes for you,” you blurted. Your hand went to his wrist trying to slow down his pattern an orgasm like you never experienced was upcoming.

He swatted your hand away and kept working while you got an idea. You pulled out his dick and watched it spring onto his abdomen. “Leaking so much,” you asked. “Can’t help it seeing that pretty body.” You stroaked to the rhythm of his fingers. You couldn’t help but get giddy at his words.

He went faster sending your toes curling and mind spiraling you did the same onto his dick. “Gonna cum already?” Don’t tease me I can’t help it,” he grits. Looking into each others eyes you could tell you were getting lost.

The rooms noise level filled drastically as you groaned into each others mouths having no courtesy for the people near by. Your fingers traced his slit spreading his precum down onto his shaft.

You felt him twitch in your palm. His ears were bright red and tears pooled in his eyes. His lips were getting swollen from kissing. “Fuck!” You’ve never seen such a more stunning sight. It made you want to savor the moment.

But you couldn’t think when he was knuckles deep in you. “I don’t think I can wait,” you hissed. “Please let me cum Cater. He almost came undone with you asking for permission. “Fine we can do it together uggh!” Not even a second later and you were releasing all over each others hands making a mess outta your underwear.

You held him close as he kissed up your neck. You both collapsed on each other out of breath. You could feel his heart pounding on yours and for a moment you were at peace until you felt him get hard again behind you.

“Looks like we’ll be spending a lot of time together,” you smirked. You laid back on the bed. “I thought you were a virgin Y/n?” I am. “Youre losing it to me,” he gasped. “Yes Cater you’re an amazing person how many times do I have to tell you I trust you?” I rather it be you than anyone else.”

“Tell me to stop at anytime okay?” You shook your head. He spread your legs and lined up his cock with your awaiting hole. “I’m ready.” You held onto one of his pillows it smelled like him. He thought you looked too cute holding on for dear life.

You wished his dick wasn’t so fat as he stilled inside you. “You’re bleeding are you okay?” Yes,” you cried burying your face into the pillow. “I’m used to it but can you please hold my hand?” He answered your simple request by holding them. He used both to stabilize himself making slow thrust.

Even though it felt like he was about to burst out his seems in your tight heat he held back until you were ready. Your legs wrapping around his narrow torso told him so. And for the first time in his life he knew he was in some place where he belonged. One he never wanted to leave as long as you were there.

The more your pretty lips called out his name the more he wanted to just claim you forever. Your gummy walls squeezed tightly around him. “Gosh you feel so good,” Cater cooed. His body pressed against yours bringing your legs up to your chest. He swore he could drool at any moment from keeping his mouth open.

It couldn’t stop hanging open as he muttered curses into your ears. You couldn’t help but take the sinful talk as he pressed you down his hands leaving yours to put you in a mating press. You swore all air was knocking out of your lungs as he did so.

You vision began to get foggy as your body was being controlled by his dick. “Give it to me! So good… too good,” you swooned. “Going all stupid for me my love,” he hummed. You shook your head a dozen times already fucked out. You couldn’t help but gush on him as he picked up his pace.

“So sorry- I don’t wanna hurt you.” It’s alright feels good!” Your hands traced up his arms feeling up his scars but he didn’t mind. “Wanna be like this for the rest of my life,” he grunted.

You giggled as his mouth came down onto yours. Your teeth clashed and tounges collided but it was filled with joy. “I can tell you’re almost there come on let go,” he instructed. “I wanna cum together,” you grinned. “Good I can’t hold back anymore.” His whimpers were becoming more apparent as he spilled his seed in you.

He sounded like he was in pure extasy while you creamed all over him. Even though he pulled out he could still feel the connection you both now shared. And to think he was gonna skip out on the concert. He laid next to you in bed facing you.

Your body was spasming a bit still and his fresh cum poured out of you. “Can we cockwarm I bet it’ll feel good,” he advised. “Later after you complete your final step.” By now you’re both half asleep and Cater doesn’t want to do anything to leave your side.

But he’s ready to appease you and himself. He takes the box away from the floor and disposes of the blades. You cheer a bit and he gets back in bed. “It’s a pretty box again I think I know what I’m gonna fill it with this time.” And what’s that,” you wondered.

“The pictures from today and here on out.” You smiled from ear to ear. “Does this mean we’re dating now?” Duh dummy,” he taunted.

A/n - this was pretty personal lol. But Cater is one of the most mysterious Twisted Wonderland characters. Whenever his true nature is hinted at it’s always something sneaky or pretty depressed. It’s like he has this happy mask on that he can’t break outta habit from his childhood. So I thought to make a story like this. I will probably write a part two because things don’t change over night and there will be more to these characters. I didn’t mention it but they do end up cockwarming and going for more rounds ;3

[harrysmimi]

Fangirl

Synopsis: One where Harry's got yet another concert crush and she's got a sign for him

Ps. . This is sort of a shoutout to my fellow long hair girlies xx

More of my work

Wembley night one.

Harry was excited, nervous, jittery, happy and hyper at th same time. Playing three nights there was surreal enough.

All three of his shows are sold out. They sold put within seconds!

Night one, he got the sound check done, He worked out, took a shower, had some soup and got ready to rock the stage all whilst his opener, Wetleg band went first.

The show was amazing!

The next day he woke up, and did all of it all over again. He enjoyed it every single time. But somehow he was more nervous today. He didn't know why, he had this weird feeling in his gut there.

But it was his turn and the butterflies in his tummy never went away. He stalled for five whole minutes before he had to really go up and get on with the show.

After Late Night Talking, they stopped for a quick instrument change. And during that time it was Harry's sole job to keep the crowd entertained. He had maximum five to six minutes.

"If you've got any signs now is the right time to get them up." He announced as the music came to a halt. As he was going down the catwalk he noticed someone fiddling with a sign frantically in the sea of signs which was now the pit. It was a sketch book to be specific. "You alright there?" He asked catching the girls attention in all white and her hair tied up in a sleek bun. Her head shot up to look at him when the girl next to elbowed her. She had red heart glasses on. "You've got a sign for me?"

"Yes!" She said as loudly as she could.

Harry walked to the edge as he waited for her to show him her sign. He chuckled walking away but he walked back to her. "Can I read it out loud?" With her agreement he proceeded to read, "your sign says, 'if your answer was only "Yes" to question, I want to ask you one. Ps. I came all the way from India and worked my arse off for this night'." He giggled again, turning red from nervousness.

"Okay, first of all, What is your name, love?" He asked, his mic rested on his chin as he spoke.

"YN!"

"YN?" He got it wrong.

"YN!" She corrected him.

"Oh, YN." He got it right this time. "Well, I really appreciate you traveling all the way too for the show and working your arse for it, YN. Really appreciate it." He blew her a little kiss making her gasp, "and to your sign again. Can my answer only be yes?"

"Yeah!" She nodded.

"Okay..." He hesitated, bht what can really go wrong from here? "What is your question, YN? But keep in mind this is a family show." He smiled a cheeky dimply smile, "or is it?" And the crowd went feral.

"No, no, it is actually a family show. My mum and sister are here today." He added, "yeah, your sign YN."

Harry waited as she flipped her sign to the next page. He turned red like a tomato as he walked away again, making the crowd scream and laugh. "It says, 'Will you go on a Coffee date with me, please?' and in parentheses it says, 'You choose Romantic or Platonic'."

He couldn't help but blush, "it says please. Please!" He was impressed. "I guess I'm gonna have to say Yes." He shrugged still laughing, "at least I have a choice. Can it be not a coffee date?"

"It can be a Chai date?"

"It can be a Chai date?" He asked just to be sure, "yeah! Yeah, why not!" He agreed.

"It's a date!" She yelled.

"It's a date!" He announced dramatically.

"Pinky promise?" She yelled again (so he can hear her) holding up her pinky finger.

"Pinky promise!" He went along with it.

"Yeah, I'm here in my wedding dress if the date goes well." She said, making Harry blush and laugh hardee.

"Yeah, if it goes well." He giggled, "YN, you stay right there we're gonna get back to you after the show. We have disco medley to dance on!"

And the crowd roared at that as he started singing Cinema. And through the middle interlude he made up new lyrics.

"Everybody put your hands in the air, everybody put your hands in the air, put your hands in the air. Everybody put your in the air, everybody I've got a date after here, put your hands in the air." He joked as he continued on with his show there.

Sometime in the show, Harry walked back to the catwalk towards the girl with the sign. She seemed to be having a great time. But he stopped and handed her a rose he picked up from the front stage thrown at him during Grapejuice.

And sometime ahead in the show when he got back to the same catwalk, he saw she had tucked the rose on her ear as she danced.

Harry had a blast!

And he was smitten like a little kitten whole night!

......................................................................

It was the next day after the show.

Harry still have four days left until his next show. So he was going to stay back in London and spend time with his mum and sister, and even go visit his dad later sometime.

His sister hasn't stopped pulling his leg over the girl with the sign on night two.

But today he got a call from his dear friend Pauli, who was also his band member. Pauli never calls him, but he haven't checked his Instagram DMs yet.

"Mate!" Pauli exclaimed, "check your DMs on Instagram."

"Oh gosh, you scared me." He sighed, "I will check them in a minute, yeah?"

"Yep, yep, yep. Have a great day mate." Pauli said before they hung up the call.

Harry sat down on his bed. He had to anyway to put his shoes on, so he opened up Pauli's DM. It was a reel video he shared. It was a video of a girl's silhouette dancing to an Indian song, it was beautiful least to say. He went back see what his friend had to say. They asked him to check the profile out.

It was the girl from the girl with the sign, her bio said she's a dance teacher and of course a choreographer. Her account was verified with well over seven hundred fifty thousand followers. He picked the first post to check. It was a series of ten photos.

First one was a video of her being dramatic, with her dress scarf over her head. It also gave the full picture of her outfit, it was a pretty traditional outfit. It was very short and cut of after her and her friend started laughing. The second one was a cute picture of her and her friend. Then a short video of their interaction, when he gave her the rose. Then another of her Sarah giving her a one of the drum stick. And then a few from the dance studio session, he believed they were.

The last video was of her being woken up by her friend, jt was hilarious. "YN wake up, you just told Harry Styles you're getting married if the first date goes well." The voice behind the camera said. He believed it was the friend.

The girl woke up in surprise. "What the fuck?" She exclaimed still half asleep.

"You even showed him the wedding dress."

"No, I didn't?"

"Yes you did. You have a date with him."

"Shut up. Why does my head hurt."

"Because you drank straight up vodka last night."

"What? No!" She whined and the video cut off there.

Harry laughed watching that. He saw a bit of the comment she replied to hust underneath her caption which he did not understand. The comment said, "No, I don't drink and I drank about 100-150 ml of straight vodka my friend snuck into the venue in a Fiji fucking water bottle." Harry had a great laugh with that, and he saw another one of her replied. "My sober self would have NEVER let my intricate thoughts win. But yes, I asked him out. I had to have my shot (pun intended)." He laughed even more.

There were a few more replies. He saw a comment which explained why she was replying to comments was because she couldn't get out of her bed. A bad hangover it was.

There was a little translate button which he pressed to see what her caption was about because he saw a few more comments with laughing faces regarding captions. It said, "My husband's house." To which he laughed even more. His fans are crazy and they crazier stuff than this. He rather found this wholesome and adorable.

Harry almost had a heartattack when his phone slipped out of his hand. Not because he thought it broke, because he might accidentally like the post. He doesn't want to look creepy. He didn't liked it so he let out a sigh of relief and closed the app and locked his phone.

He remembered he was hungry and in need of a breakfast. So he headed out.

His chef was on off, because well he's on tour. And he can't cook to even save his life there. Though he might argue he can bake, just because he worked in a bakery.

He went to his favourite breakfast place. It was small and quiet and no one bothered him there. He also wore his cap, and his hoodie with a pair of sweats this time, a little bit of change in outfit so he have a quiet day by himself.

"Can I please have a get a large iced Matcha Latte and one of the Chocolate croissants to go?" The guy in front of him ordered as he checked of the menu on the side wall mean while. It was his turn to order.

Just as he turned around he saw a familiar face with glasses on, sat at a corner table.

Wait, is he hallucinating or something here?

She wore a beige cardigan paired with a white tshirt, and what looked like to be a pair of baggy jeans, black heeled boots with red bottoms. Her hair was left loose behind her back, and Subway sandwich as she sketched in her sketch pad.

"One Mocha Latte for YN!"

It was her!

He waited by the side where she'd go over and pick her drink.

Harry was in awe. He wasn't sure if her hair were real or she wore extentions, but he was smitten all over again. She stood almost as tall as him which sort of intimidated him there. She checked her cup as she picked it up and almost bumped into him there with a hot drink in her hand.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry!" She gasped. "Oh my god!" And this was a different gasp of emotion.

"Hello there." He smiled sheepishly.

"This is going to be awkward." She chuckled, seemingly more embarrassed than he was. She looked down at her clothes to make sure nothing was split. Her shirt was his merch. "See! I'm so sorry."

"No, it's alright." He shrugged and watched as his order was ready.

"Just... I am sorry about what I said at the concert." Her cheeks have turned red, "that was so stupid of me."

"Yeah?" Harry gathered up all his courage to say, "why don't you tell me this with coffee then?"

Her eyes went wide as behind her glasses, "sur--sure!" And she agreed. They walked upto the table she was sat at. There was a paper bag from Selfridges and her bag which had a scarf spilling out of it by the side, as if it was shoved in theere in hurry. She closed her sketch pad (which thought he saw a glimpse of a pretty sketch of a dancer she was drawing) and kept it aside and her phone.

"I never drink, and I accidentally drank like I don't know how many shots of vodka." She started explaining it anxiously. "Before you ask how I didn't know it was vodka. I am a dancer and you know after you've been working out for so long and you drink some water and tour throat burn a little? Wait, that sounded so wrong but you know what I mean! I literally did not meant to say what I said apart from the sign!"

"Calm down, love calm down." He smirked trying to hold back his his laugh. "It's alright, I promise it's alright."

He's just having a happy and giggly day!

"Thank you." She sighed and sunk into her seat.

"Hope you at least enjoyed the show?"

"Oh yes, I did." She nodded sitting up straight again and reached for her sandwich. "I remember everything, except for after I accidentally got shit faced, as you all say it here."

"Understandable." He commented.

"How's your day going so far?" She asked.

Oh boy how YN hated small talks. But she doesn't want this to be an awkward encounter with the celebrity love of her life!

"It's been amazing." He admitted, "what about you? Are you here on a vacation?"

Okay, he's bringing something along to chat. Okay, YN calm down!

"Oh, no I'm not here on a vacation." She shared, "as I said I'm a dancer so I'm here for the semi finals and finals for this compitition I entered in."

"Oh, that's interesting." He was amused, "did you win? Oh wait, you had your finals yet?"

"Yeah. I got the second place." She smiled proudly. "It was just yesterday."

"That's amazing, congratulations!" He gasped. He's genuinely happy for her.

"Thank you, thank you so much!" She now beamed at him with excitement. Or you can say quiet excitement, as she took a sip from her coffee.

He liked the way she talked and how she carried herself. Especially now she's all sober and not drunk dancing like she was at his concert. Both those situations show her personality. But he liked how she talked. Something about her felt so delicate. Her posture was way too perfect, it made him feel insecure about his as he sat up straight.

"You're in town for longer?" He asked hesitantly.

"No," she let out a sad sigh, "I am going back home this evening actually."

Now he didn't know what to say further and it looked she had nothing to say either. And neither of them had touched their breakfast. Which was going to be awkward to leave. YN took a bite of her sandwich.

"You know what, I am so bad at small talk." She admitted making him giggle.

"So am I." He admitted too, "what's that?" He pointed at her sketch pad. It made her go red again.

"I draw a little." She admitted and picked up her book. She flipped rhe cover to show him a pretty little sketch of a bunch of roses. And she carefully skipped five pages to the one he saw a glimpse of earlier. It was half done sketch of a ballerina, it looked like she was drawing it with her own imagination.

"That's very pretty." He commented, "why'd you skip those five pages?"

Okay, Stage Harry making an appearance with the confidence there!

"Those are not done yet!" She got defensive. And he just squinted his eyes at her, "I'm already so embarrassed Harry, honestly." She held back a sheepish smile.

It was indeed a smiley and giggly and happy day today!

"Are you gonna show me?"

She sighed and turned the page for him. It was a sketch of rhe grumpy bear from his Gucci collection and the next one was his sketch. The one he posted after his San Jose, Live On Tour show. And the next was his Madison Square Garden pose sketch. And next was from the Coachella show with extremely detailed drawing of his tattoos, and a cowboy hat.

"Oh I love this one!" He is really mesmerises by it.

"Thank you." Her cheeks hurt from smiling and blushing so much in that moment. "You can keep it."

"It's alright." He felt bad now. He doesn't want to take what looks to be hours and hours of work. "Looks like it took many hours to draw."

His accent was sending her to heaven, but she managed to keep her cool. "It's alright." She proceeded to tear off the page carefully.

"Thank you." He's going to get it framed and hung up at his home. Yup, that's the first thing he's going to do!

Harry carefully placed the thick paper in the book he was reading. And it got super silent between both of them, as he sipped his coffee and she ate her sandwich. The chatter became just a background noise. It was comfortable and not awkward. Until her phone dinged with five messages back to back.

"Excuse me." She picked up her phone to check the message. She typed a quick message, with a looks of upset and disappointment on her face.

"Everything alright?"

"Yeah." She nodded, "it was my friend asking when I have to leave." Her friend was going to drop her off to the airport today. She's got to go back and pack up and all. She placed the last bite of her sandwich down on the wrapper not knowing how to tell him she has to go now. It felt wrong. "I should go now? Have to pack and stuff."

"Mhmm." He nodded.

"I'm really sorry about this." She felt bad, because they didn't get to talk much.

"It's alright, love, you got a flight to catch I understand." He nodded as he watched in awe and she placed her scarf around over her neck and gather her stuff.

"Please take care of that for me, it took me fourteen hours to make." She said as she got up and hung her bag on her shoulder.

"I promise." He smiled a dimply grin as he glanced at the little sketch. "Hey, YN?"

"Hmm?" She looked at him as she picked up the trash to throw it in the bin on her way out.

"I, uhhh, can I have your number?" He asked. It had YN's heart almost burst open in her chest cavity.

Harry Freaking Styles is asking for her number?!

"You want my number?" YN couldn't believe what she heard.

She was only joking when she took that sign with her. She sat back down on her seat giving him her fully undivided attention.

"Mhmm." Harry nodded, with curiosity behind his bight green eyes and lips pursed in a thin line. He pulled out his phone to unlocked it to open the dial pad and placed it on the table facing her.

He noticed how she didn't even pick up the device as she typed her number with shaky number. She typed in her name with her pointer finger as she saved it and slide his phone back towards him. Her cheeks had turned a visible shade of rosy tint. He immediately sent her a dot so she could have his number and not think he's a creep when he decides to text her.

That's when he also noticed she's got an Android. He'll definitely have to download WhatsApp now!

"Okay, Harry I really have to run now." She shared, "I broke my shoes and I can't walk fast in heels."

"Yeah." He nodded a beaming smile, "talk to you soon."

"Hmm." She nodded and sped walked out. As she walked past the glass window she waved at him before she jogging out of his sight.

He spent next hour and half with his earphones in, stalking her page. The reels side. Videos of her dancing with a crowd of people. Effortlessly beautiful. Different studios and different locations.

There was a video of her dancing for who looked to be her grandma and mother. The older lady looked very impressed as she sat there in her chair. And the next video was of her dancing with her mum and the next was her recreating old and black and white pictures of her grandma.

It looked like she comes from family of dancers.

He's obsessing over her now. He stopped and noticed he's run out of coffee and that way too much screen time for him. So he went home grinning like a little boy.

......................................................................

It had been a good few months. Harry felt way too awkward to message her. Nothing about their interaction at the cafe was shared by her or anyone really.

It was nearing December. He's framed the piece of art she gave him and hung it where it is in plain sight. He was also hosting a quiet little surprised birthday party for his elder sister.

He's been in deep conflict and he hasn't shared it with anyone else. His interaction with her at the cafe.

But he saw on her WhatsApp stories that she's back in London for work again. He was in London so he texted her to check on if she's up for a little meet up. But his message unfortunately went unseen for a day and half. But he recieved a call from her instead.

He'd just woken up from his impromptu afternoon nap after his intense workout session, which was supposed to be just half an hour long but it's almost seven in the evening. He hadn't even changed yet.

"Hello?" Her voice rang through the speaker phone which was enough to break his sleep there.

"Hello!" He woke up abruptly, "Hi!"

"Were you off to bed already? I'm so sorry to wake you up." Her voice was full of sympathy thinking she woke him up.

"No, I was, I was taking a nap. What's up?"

"I just called to apologise, I saw your message on my notifications but I literally forgot to reply. I've just been so busy. I don't know how to say this over message..." Her voice trailed off with a hint of sheepishness.

"It's alright, I understand." And he really does understand. "I texted you to see if you're up for a meal, and uhhhh, to catch up...?" And he's nervous now.

"I am sorry, I am really busy tomorrow. I have rehearsals for the tour— fuck!" She cut off herself, "I am not supposed to speak about it. I, I am busy tomorrow as well."

He chuckled, "we can meet up now or whenever you're free today."

"Wouldn't it be too late?" Now she sounds nervous.

"I slept for five hours now, don't think I'll be able to sleep again." He shrugged as if she can see him through a voice call, feeling his cheeks grow warmer and tired with a realisation that he's been grinning like a totally idiot.

"Okay. Uhhh, yeah, okay. I'll just have to go back to my hotel, take a shower, and get ready, and, and, I don't know..." She panicked and talked to herself, "okay, we can meet at around ten...ish... If you're fine with that?"

"Send me your location I'll pick you up at ten-thirty." He chuckled again, her little ramble was so adorable to him.

"Okay!" She squeaked.

Harry heard someone calling her name, that was the queue for him to get off the call and get ready. And so he did. He bid her bye and ran to shower. Get out of his dirty and sweaty clothes. He spent three hours getting ready, as if he's going on an actual date.

At exactly ten he recieved her location. He was dressed in a pair of jeans, his white 'Enjoy your health. Eat your honey' shirt and a black coat to keep himself warm. With a pair of black sneakers he reached first. He didn't had much time so picked the first black pair he saw and ran with it.

With traffic it's take him forty minutes to get to her location. He dropped her a text once he reached to the hotel she was staying that.

It was a luxurious and fancy to say the least.

He saw her getting out of the entrance as she bid her friends bye and walked towards the direction he had told her to. It took a few moments to see him. But he saw her.

She wore exactly same outfit as him, but with a black tshirt and her beige coat and white comfy sneaker. Her heels were missing. Her hair left loose this time. Her staple pair lf priscription glasses were placed on the bridge of her nose. A silver necklace shined over the black fabric of her shirt.

"Harry!" She gasped once she noticed him and sped walked towards him. "I am still going to fangirl, please excuse me!"

He chuckled as he approached for a hug, "no worries." He snaked his arms around her middle pulling her in a tight and warm hug, just to get one right back.

He'd hugged her just a couple lf times but she gives the best hugs.

Yup!

"I have something for you!" She got all giddy and giggly as she pulled away from their hug.

"What is it?" Obviously he's curious.

"Not now," she wiggled her brows cheekily. "Where are we going?"

"Well, if you haven't had your dinner yet, I hope to take you somewhere for dinner." He already opened the car door for her.

"Oh yes please!" She sighed, "I am starving." And got into his car.

"As you say." He closed the door and jogged to the drivers side. "What do you want to eat?"

"Hmm, let me think." She put in a thought into it as she put on her seat belt and he'd already pulled out of the car park, "I want to try fish and chips... Is that too touristy to say?"

"Not at all!" He defended, "we can have fish and chips." He drove to a location just fifteen minutes away. And she followed him in there, it was not very crowded given it was around the closing time. Clearly, it was a pub she saw as she headed upstairs.

"You know I don't drink, right?" She whispered, following him closely behind.

"I know, but this place has the best fish and chips." He led her to an empty table, "you want me to take your coat?"

"No, it's okay I'm cold." She shrugged. They ordered their food and sat in a cosy little corner.

"So you're going on a tour?" He squinted his eyes at her.

"Stop, I wasn't supposed to talk about that. I'll get in serious trouble!" She gasped making him laugh.

"I promise, your secret is safe with me." He pushed for the last time, if she denies he wouldn't talk about jt ever again. But she looked around to see the people already engaged in their own time there as she leaned forward.

"I am going to be a part of The Eras Tour now!" She whispered before she was kicking her feet like a baby in excitement.

"What!? That's amazing!" He was surprised to hear that to say the least.

"Yes!" She grinned, "we start off in Tokyo. You're going to any of the shows?"

"I am definitely going now." He nodded feeling bold, "on one condition."

"What is that?" She looked at him confused.

"Maybe we can call this a date?" He shrugged, trying to be as nonchalant as possible and watched her face go pale.

"You are serious?" She countered instead of answering his query first.

He leaned in closer over the table too, "I think I've made it pretty clear, I like you." A sheepish chuckle left his mouth, "like a lot!"

"Hold on, hold on, hold on. I wasn't expecting this!" She announced with a gasp. "You're pranking me?"

Harry squinted his eyes, " why would I joke about this?"

"You're joking!" Now this was a surprised accusation on him which sent him laughing.

"I am not." He cleared his throat after he was done laughing.

"I, uhhhh," she stuttered, "I need time to think..."

"No worries." He said but before he could say anything further, their food was served.

Harry switched to another topic to make the situation less awkward. She definitely felt awkward and he's rather have her be comfortable than be adamant in getting his way.

"You're not drinking right?" She asked.

"No, I gotta drive." He answered, "why so?"

"No, 'cause I paid like two hundred pound fee for driving without a licence and going over the speed limit here last night." She shared sheepishly, "in my defence all of my friends were drunk their ass off and I had no idea how the uber thing works here. They definitely would have arrested me but they let me go, I don't want to risk that. I still don't know how the uber thing works. That's like my entire month salary gone..."

She's got a job which pays ber better now so she was fine with paying the fine. Or she wouldn't have mind spending a night behind bars. Yeah, she'd do that.

He giggled, "don't worry that won't happen." He understands, it's a new place for her and it can be difficult to figure out addresses and stuff. Especially when it comes to have some stranger drive you around when you don't know the area so well. "You want Icecream?"

"Always down for Icecream!" She announced.

Harry took her to his favourite ice cream place before he drove her back to her hotel. Now, he didn't wanted the night to come to come an end with her. He could spend hours and hours talking and listening her talk. He got put of his car just so he can make the moments linger more. He hugged her but held onto her hand as he wished her a good night.

"Thank you for, uhhhh, taking me out." YN stuttered as she spoke with a sheepish smile, "and about, ummm, your question... I, uhhhh, I don't want things to get you know sour between me and uhhh..." She was trying to find words in language he understands but he already had idea where she was going with this. "With uhhh, me and Taylor. Please don't get me wrong. She's my employer and now she's become a good friend of mine during the rehearsals and stuff. Given you two were together, even though it was a decade ago. I still want to talk to her."

"Mhmm." Harry nodded, because that meant hope was still hanging in there. His heart is still intact in his chest with these new growing feelings.

"But if you're still going to any of the show let me know, okay?" He squeezed his hand slightly.

"I will."

"Promise?"

"I promise!" He squeezed her hand back.

It just means he get to be fancy and take her out on a proper date!

......................................................................

That was last year.

Harry was in Tokyo for the first show which YN was part of. He was there with his friends and even his sister joined along with her boyfriend.

YN had sent a bouquet of flowers and a card at his place his birthday, which undoubtedly made his entire year. It was a nice gesture given she said she's so bad at gift giving, especially for birthdays. He kept the card safe.

He has also been waiting for her answer eagerly. Even though it should be pretty evident it's a yes, they talk a lot more now given she's so freaking busy, they're both always texting or sending each other snaps of highlights of their days.

Harry bought a bouquet of flowers for her before he was off to see her. They were meeting up at this little cafe he picked out, but it was going to be her treat in celebration of her new project beginning. It was so special because Japan is his most favourite place to be. And YN have also been so excited to show him something in particular she wouldn't tell him over text or their usual phone calls.

Just as he was about to text her to see if she was there as he walked up the street, he saw her jogging looking at her phone screen. Probably at the google maps. Her face framing hair bounced around her features, as she tried to be as fast as she can in a pair of sandals. A baggy hoodie and her favourite paor of jeans. Her usual glasses missing.

Harry remembered her saying she got contact lenses as she can't really perform with her glasses on. And she needs to see the stage for that.

"Harry!" She squealed omce she saw him.

"Hello love!" He greeted her with his usual warm hug, and recieved one right back. YN just squeezed him tight, like her life depends on it. "I got you flowers." He quietly whispered in her ear there.

"I know!" Her face buried in the fabric of his Bode button down shirt.

Now both of them spent their entire day together, had all three meals and snacks out, walked around seeing all they could see in a day, hand in hand. Before Harry was walking her back to her hotel, which was barely five minutes away from hers.

"I'll take you to see more places later, now please take some rest you've got a big day tomorrow." They both stopped just outside her hotel.

"I know!" YN nodded excitedly with her tired eyes moving closer to him. She works for next four days straight then she's got five days off before she's got to go to Australia for next shows. "You'll be there right?"

"Of course, came all the way here for it." He assured her, feeling his heart flutter in his chest.

"If your answer was yes, I want to ask you a question.' She spoke with a subtle cheeky smile on her face.

"Go for it." He said.

"You want today to be a date?" Now he completely forgot about his question he asked months and months ago. He was just pulled back to senses when she moved even closer to him, making his heart thump in his ears.

YN has had plenty of time to think, work on herself and talk to her new friends/ employer about this. Of course, Taylor is not a kid anymore. She was in fact so happy for YN, when she approached her one random day at the dinner after rehearsals. They both sat down seperately and had a nice thoughtful chat.

YN of course told her mother and grandmother, who she is the closest to about this. They obviously support her because she's so happy. Her missed her mum and grandmother, one of them couldn't travel because of their age and the other couldn't come because they had to take care of the other. She misses her family, being away isn't as romantic as she thought it would be.

But today was amazing. She felt like she had someone known with her for the first time in months and months, in flesh next to her.

YN just wanted to kiss him then and there. In the middle of the street. But she didn't know how to approach with it.

"Hands down, it was the best date I've ever been on." He shared with a beaming smile on his face. "We should do this again, yeah?" He snaked his arms around her waist sure that she's figured everything out by now and that she's finally willing to give them a chance.

"Yeah!" She nodded. He went in for a kiss as the same time as her, bumping into her nose they both ended up in a fit of giggle. "I am sorry!" She laughed, "I've never kissed anyone."

Harry giggled again but assured her, "it's okay." He leaned in again, his time taking the charge he placed his mouth on hers in a delicate kiss. Once he pulled away he had her blushing her forehead pressed on his chest. "It's just a kiss, you're gonna get a lot of those now!" He laughed hugging her again. She groaned before lifting her head up to look at him with a red face.

"I was just a fangirl!" She couldn't believe her life in that moment.

"Now I'll be a fangirl tomorrow." He pointed out, "cheering especially for you."

......................................................................

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