#i wasn't sure of the verse i wanted to pick

[sacredflorist]

“So much we don’t know, lingering in the furthest reaches of existence.”

BG3 Companion Banter Starters | Accepting | @poeticphoenix

Aerith puts her hands together, smiling gently. Of course, there's so much they don't know, so much they can't predict... but this is part of the beauty of living. No one knows what comes next. It's full of surprises, but it's beautiful. Even through all these hardships, she has never stopped enjoying life. Some woulc consider her naive, but she's far from it.

"But isn't it beautiful this way ?" she asks, letting a soft chuckle escape her mouth. "Not knowing everything... it allows us to live life to the fullest. Don't you think so ?"

[generalzelgius]

        It had been a few years since his Lord Sephiran’s plans had failed and Tellius was slowly healing from the trauma and banding together to move forward in harmony. Zelgius had survived what he thought was his final battle with Ike and had returned to his master for support who was relieved of the good news and promptly decided to return home to the Serenes Forest, begging Tibarn and King Lorazieh to forgive Zelgius, that everything he had done were his own wishes, and if they could forgive him, then it should be extended to Zelgius, too. They eventually acquiesced and Lehran and Zelgius had moved into a small cottage at the furthest edge of the forest both for their privacy and peace of mind. It was better this way. They both wanted to stay out of trouble and although everyone was always polite to their faces there was always an underlying sense of discomfort and that they didn’t truly belong anywhere. Not after everything that had happened. 

        The only reasons Zelgius left the safety of the cottage was to run errands such as collect wood for their hearth, fetch supplies, gather food, etc. He tended to do this all efficiently and as rapidly as possible so that he could return back to Lehran in one piece. The less others saw of him, the better, he thought, though perhaps they were not as hated as they were led to believe. They did get visitors at times such as the Apostle Sanaki or Micaiah, but their time was always brief, as they were very busy and had duties to attend to. Even so, it was always nice to see a familiar friendly face. Even if both of them thought they didn’t deserve it. 

        On this particular day Zelgius was gathering fruits out in the forest, placing them into a woven basket that Lehran had made in his spare time, which was basically all of his time now. The Serenes Forest was difficult to tread about on foot, not a lot of paths to be found, and the roots of enormous trees often in the way. He had gotten lucky and found some fruit that had fallen to the ground. There was no way he’d be able to get those up above. He could try climbing, but that would likely expend a lot of his energy and end up in a disaster. He decided he would just go back home and hope that Lehran had enough fruit to make that dessert he had been wanting to try for. However, he didn’t notice his foot had got caught beneath one of the tree’s roots and when he tried to move, he fell forward, dropping the basket and all the fruit he had just gathered, landing hard on the ground with a thud, even though he broke most of his fall by reaching out with his two hands. Ah, it seemed even here in the forest there was danger....

@heartwilled liked for a starter !!!

[countrtnrs]

reverse starter call for @maimedaffair / DAVE KAROFSKY

They'd walked a fragile line all of last year, taken to some sort of extreme. It's funny, how someone had consumed months of his life, but everything had since faded into a quiet sort of acknowledgement, or forgiveness, or something like that. Kurt used to walk through hallways afraid, then feel his insides freeze at the first sign of Dave. Loud noises, being brushed too hard down the hallway, some sick sixth sense - those scars remained. There's a phantom kiss he never wanted there - an internal switch ready to steal some breath from his lungs when he least expects it.

And yet, he'd forgiven him, but couldn't forget. Maybe there'd just been something about their joint experience - two gay teenagers in a dead town. Kurt couldn't out Dave, didn't want him to be close to half as miserable as he'd been himself. While he didn't know if they could ever be close, they'd exchanged phone numbers at some point between prom and the last day of Junior year.

Exchanging phone numbers is different to expecting to meet in person, though. On a warm summer's day, while everyone else was busy doing other things, Kurt had fallen back on his old way of making money - reading the latest copy of Vogue magazine at his dad's auto shop. It's a slow enough day that he can get away with it, but if anyone asks, he's 'working'.

That is, until he looks up and recognises that all too familiar face. There's still a moment where Kurt's eyes widen, where he inhales and sticks his nose up until he remembers that it's fine. At least, it should be fine. Kurt smiles, only a little forced.

" Well, well, well, fancy seeing you here, " he says, closing his magazine and placing it by his side. There's still a hesitance about Kurt, and he doesn't get up to greet Dave, but he won't act cold either. At least, he doesn't want to.

" Good thing my dad's taking a lunch break, "

There's more sarcasm in his tone than anything else, but the relief is real. As much as Burt Hummel was the most important person in Kurt's life, the last thing he wanted was some kind of fallout right now, because his dad was still angry. And that was more than justified, considering what he knew.

[morganasirennether]

@dethqveen liked for a starter with Jonathan!

It was supposed to be a safe place, that was what he was told, yet he felt like he had someone’s eyes following him wherever he went the moment he stepped into the city. Didn’t matter what time of day it was or where he went, the feeling always came when he least expected it. Perhaps it was some person waiting for the right moment to strike, someone that could see that he wasn’t truly human, or maybe he was finally losing his mind after all these years.

Whatever, didn’t matter, he had places to go and things to do. And what he wanted now was to find a place where he could change his form without being seen by other people. Staying human for too long was never a good thing, and he was now throwing curses at himself for making the mistake.

So there he was now, running down some random street with his arms folded across his chest to try and find a hiding place. So focused on the task ahead of him that he didn’t even notice that there was a person in front of him until he pretty much ran into them. "Freaking- sorry! My bad.”

[familyvideostevie]

you have me, you have me only

joel miller x reader you get (minorly) injured on patrol. joel does his best to patch you up and not worry too much. | jackson!joel, hurt/comfort, wound-patching, some blood, a jesse cameo, joel being joel, all that good stuff. | 4.2k a/n: part of the just and just as verse. not too soft but not too angsty, either. just another day after the end of the world, you know? thank you @mrsmando for your eyes on this! <3

___

"Almost there," you mutter. "Fuck."

The icy winter wind dulls the stinging in your palms to a numbness. The leather gloves you've had for half a decade stay tucked in your pockets. You don't want to ruin their lining with dirt and blood.

"How's the head?" 

Jesse pulls up alongside you in a trot. The adrenaline from your patrol-gone-wrong pulses heavy at the top of your spine, your vision sharp and the whole world a little too loud around you as Jackson comes into view at the bottom of the hill. Your head, like the rest of you, throbs.

"I'll live."

He scoffs and his horse snorts as if agreeing with him. In truth, you're more pissed than injured, though it certainly looks like you lost a fight. Jesse's cheekbone will no doubt bloom purple tomorrow and his lip is still bleeding sluggishly. His jeans are splattered with gore, same as yours.

"Thanks for back there," he says.

You shrug and wince when it pulls at the skin of your side where you fell. 

"You, too," you tell him with a grimace. "That was quick thinking with the brick."

You like him -- he's good at his job and he's a good friend to Ellie. You know Tommy and Maria are not-so-subtly training him to run this place someday if he wants to. As a patrol partner, you can't ask for much better. He knows all the routes and he's a good shot and his mom knows everything there is to know about everyone in town and sometimes he passes tidbits on to you.

But knowing your shit doesn't mean a damn thing in this world, sometimes. You can still get ambushed by infected on patrol and it can still fuck up your day.

He waves you off. "I just can't believe an elk chose our station to fucking die in."

"Tommy is going to shit himself when you tell him," you laugh. It pulls at your ribs. God, is there any part of you that didn't take a beating?

"He'll just be pissed he wasn't here."

Your horses reach the bottom of the hill and Jesse hesitates, the green scrap of cloth in his hand. The red one indicating an injured party peeks out from his pocket.

"Are you sure you don't want to go to the clinic?"

"I'm fine," you say firmly. "I can patch up at home."

He eyes the cut on your forehead and your scraped palms but caves under your glare and waves the green flag.

"Joel makes the same face," he mutters. "Ellie does, too. Freaky."

The gates open and you grunt when you get off your horse, palms back to stinging.

"Joel's two expressions are pissed and annoyed," you say. “Not hard to pick one up.” You press the back of your hand to your forehead and it comes back tacky with blood. "Fuck."

"I don't think you'll need a stitch." Jesse holds his hand out for your patrol rifle and pats the neck of your horse. "I'll debrief and get these guys settled. You go home."

Normally, you'd protest. But you really just want to take a hot shower and sleep for twelve hours, so you nod and shoulder your pack carefully.

"Make sure you tell Tommy about beating a stalker to death with a brick," you call over your shoulder. "He'll be impressed."

Jesse laughs.

Snow crunches under your boots on the way home. Fuck, you're exhausted. The adrenaline fades with each step and the aches become sharp pains. There aren't too many people out today on account of the cold but you nod and wave, ignoring the double takes at the blood on your clothes.

It'll be a pain in the ass if you can't patch the ruined knees of your jeans. Maybe you can convince Joel to carve something for the woman down the street who can sew better than anyone in town. Finding new pants is damn near impossible.

You’re practically dragging your feet by the time you reach your house. The mailbox labeled Miller, the wind chimes gently swaying on the porch, all of it puts you at ease. You made it home.

The porch steps groan as you climb them and the front door opens from the inside as you reach the top. Joel steps out, hand still on the knob when he looks up and sees you. His eyes widen.

He was on patrol today, too. You left at the same time but he had a shorter route and must have gotten back a while ago.

"Are you coming to meet me?" you say with a grin that's genuine despite the way your body pulses with pain. He does this sometimes -- milling around the gate, chatting with people on the wall as he waits for you to return. You never really feel like you're home until you see his face.

Joel does not smile back. His eyes rake over you the same way he surveys a room, cataloging all of the important things. The gash on your temple, the rips in your jeans, the way you're favoring your left side. The blood, too -- it's everywhere, you're sure. Palms, knees, collar. Jesse helped you wipe your face before you rode back so that you could see without blood in your eyes, but you must look pretty fucking rough.

"Jesus," he says. His hand twitches like he's going to reach for you. "You okay?"

"I'll be better when I'm not standing out in the cold."

His nostrils flare and he heads back into the house, you on his heels. You dump your pack and sit down heavily on the bench to take off your boots. Joel beats you to it, lowering to one knee with a slight groan, fingers working at your laces.

Normally he'd ask how patrol was, how Jesse did, if you saw anything interesting. Instead, his cheek twitches like he's clenching his jaw so hard it hurts. He unties your double knots with practiced ease and his silence fills the entryway of your house.

In another life, the sight of him on one knee would set your heart aflutter. As it is, you want to run a hand through his hair and smooth the worry lines on his forehead. You know him and this is how he handles it -- he chews on blame that doesn't belong on his shoulders until he can fix it.

"I'm fine," you say softly. You open and close your hands, resting them on your knees. You got most of the gravel out but there's dirt and god knows what else embedded in the tender flesh. Joel pulls off one boot with a firm hand on your calf and then the other before finally looking up at you.

"You wanna explain...this, then?"

His hand waves up in your general direction. There's no tremble in his palm but his brows are furrowed, his shoulders set in that way of his, like he's bracing for bad news. You have a rule about not lying to each other. So if you say you're fine, you're fine. Achey, bloody, and gross, sure. But you made it home in one piece and now you'll let him take care of you and he has to be okay with that.

But you don't mind reassuring him. He worries, and you know the feeling.

You shrug and fail to hide your wince. Joel wraps a hand around your ankle and squeezes lightly.

"I've had worse," you say. "I'll tell you about it if you patch me up."

He softens a little and sighs. It won't do anything to remind him that he can't go back in time and stop you from getting hurt. Joel knows he can't fix everything, can't keep everyone he loves away from harm, can't save the world. Won't, if it comes at the expense of the people in his heart.

But you can give him something to do -- a way to make it better. You could probably bandage your hands and your forehead and the rest on your own but it'll help him just as much as you if he does it.

Life in this world is a constant give and take. You have to be okay with some things, with cuts and bruises and ruined clothes if it means you survived. There's no safety, not anymore.

"Alright, c'mon," he says, standing with a groan. "Upstairs, 'fore you bleed on the furniture."

He holds out a hand for you to stand but you show him your mangled palm. Joel clicks his tongue and grips your forearm gently instead as you rise.

"Gotta clean that," he says.

"That's the plan." You leave your coat and pack behind in a heap and head for the stairs. "A hot shower sounds so fucking good right now."

Joel stops you with a hand on your elbow and you turn on the bottom step. He traces the cut on your forehead with light fingers and you try not to wince.

"Shower," he says.  "I'll patch you up after." His tone leaves no room for argument.

You ghost your fingertips along his jaw and smile at him.

"Yes sir, Mr. Miller, sir."

More tension melts from his shoulders and he rolls his eyes at you. You laugh all the way to the bathroom, even though it hurts a little.

It's been a while since one of you returned from patrol with any sort of injury. Winter means the hoards are sluggish and easy to track and tends to keep groups of people from coming to the valley and making trouble. Today was bad luck and could have been much worse.

You both know how quickly all of the good in your lives can be snatched away. Everyone does.

But you just can't dwell on it. Joel knows it, too, and letting him fuss over you in that way of his will remind him. You're home. You're okay.

You leave the bathroom door cracked as you shower under the gentle spray. Your various injuries sting but you manage to clean the scrapes on your knees and hands and wash the blood from your skin and hair, the water rusty brown as it swirls around the drain. 

Joel knocks when you're almost done and the hinges groan when he steps into the bathroom.

"Leavin' you clothes," he says, voice raised so you hear over the spray. "You okay?"

"Still alive," you call back. "Almost done."

The water starts to turn lukewarm so you switch off the stream and drag back the curtain. Joel is nowhere to be found but he's left you loose shorts so your knees are exposed and a big, faded graphic t-shirt that you brought home for him as a joke last year as well as fresh underwear and warm socks. You gently pat your skin dry with an old and scratchy towel and do your best with your hair before sliding them on. 

Joel knocks again and this time he has the bag with all of your first aid stuff in his hands. The steam from your shower rushes out into your bedroom and you shiver.

He jerks his chin at the counter. "Wanna get up there?"

You haul yourself up with a groan and he stands between your knees, arms crossed and head cocked.

"What're we dealin' with, here?"

You look down at your messy palms and rattle off what hurts.

"Cut on my forehead, bruised rib, probably, fucked up hands and knees, and..." You look up and find Joel running a hand down his face. "That's it."

"You sure?"

You glare at him. He glares back. His eyes drift to your forehead gash.

"Cut could use a stitch." 

He's still tense, you can tell, probably will be until he wakes up tomorrow and you're still next to him in bed. Until the wounds turn to scabs turn to scars. Maybe not even then.

"I think I've had enough cuts over the years to know what needs a stitch."

His eyebrows rise just a little bit, turning his expression from interrogative to exasperated, but he knows better than to tell you to do something when you’ve set your mind against it.

"They're offerin' medical degrees on the Creek Trails, now?"

"Joel."

He holds his hands up in surrender. "Fine," he says. "Let me feel your ribs."

You raise your arms a little and he slides his palms under your shirt and up your torso, pressing gently as he goes. Braless as you are, he brushes the underside of your breast, and your breath hitches. His eyes are soft with quiet amusement but he doesn't tease you.

"Your hands are warm," you murmur. He reaches the place on your side that took the brunt of the impact and you hiss.

"Sorry," he says. "Doin' real good. Deep breath for me." You obey and he withdraws, satisfied.

"Nothin' broken," he says.

"Told you."

He hums and pulls out the precious few disinfectant wipes from your first aid kid. You can get Joel to do a lot of things just by asking, but arguing with him about wasting supplies on you never works. He washes his hands in the sink and glares are you like he knows what you’re thinking.

"Forehead first, then hands, then knees," he says. "Okay?'

You nod, eyes fluttering shut. He grips your face with gentle fingertips to keep you still.

"How was your patrol?" you ask him.

He makes a noise low in his throat that's halfway to being a laugh.

"C'mon," he says. "You don't want to hear about mine. I know you're dyin' to tell me what happened."

The alcohol wipe stings as he swabs at your forehead and you tense. Joel's thumb rubs slow circles at the corner of your mouth and you press your knees into his hips.

Funny how you've had broken bones, been stabbed, shot, pretty much everything over the last twenty years but it's the small stuff that hurts the most. Stubbed toes, sliced fingers, alcohol wipes on shallow wounds. Some things just don't change.

"Okay," you say. "Well, you'll never believe it, but a damn elk decided to die in the station where the logbook is."

You tell him how you and Jesse rode up and saw the blood trail immediately and heard the moans and groans. You kept the horses on the other side of the fence and checked the first floor and the overlook, but the elk had weaseled its way under the collapsed staircase.

It smelled like death, rust and decay heavy in the air. The animal must have died just after the last patrol.

But it wasn't the problem. It was the group of Infected it attracted -- two runners and four stalkers. You have no idea where they came from but, since you were on patrol, the priority was eliminating them. The runners were easier, although one of them was responsible for the gash on your forehead when it managed to push you into the wall. You and Jesse cleared them quickly, one bullet each.

You thought you got all of the stalkers. One of them was munching on the carcass and went down fairly easily with your good aim. Jesse helped you clean your forehead so you both could clear the passage to get to the upper level and sign the logbook. The corpses went over the side of the station into the forest below. The Infected had eaten so much of the elk that it wasn't too heavy, though you both were sweating and dirty by the time you finished.

"Lemme guess," Joel says. You open your eyes as he carefully pulls the wound closed with two butterfly bandages before he gestures for your hand. He holds your wrist gently and tilts your palm side to side, looking for dirt. "There were infected inside the station, too."

"Look at you," you tease. His eyes flick to yours for just a second, intense as always. "It's like you were there."

"Smartass," he grumbles. The disinfectant stings on your palm, too, but you keep talking and keep your gaze on his face.

"Jesse climbed the rope up to the control room first but had to fend off a stalker at the top so he didn't see when another one grabbed my ankle and pulled me down mid-climb, which fucked my hands. The fall is how my rib got bruised and I tore up my knees fending it off."

Joel's cheek twitches. He wraps one of your palms in gauze and turns his attention to the other.

"Fuckin' hate those things."

"Me, too. When I got to the top, finally, Jesse was tugging a pipe from the head of a corpse. There was one more -- it jumped out of that supply room on the side, the one where Ellie found a bong, once, I think. I dodged it but my gun jammed and my hands were bleeding."

"Should've been wearing gloves."

You tap his leg with your foot and ignore him. Not taking your bait about the bong means he’s still pissed. "And then Jesse killed it with a brick."

"I taught him that," Joel grumbles.

He ties off your other palm and as soon as he's done you frame his face. Joel allows it, allows you to stare at him for a few seconds like you're memorizing him. You're telling the story like it was a fun adventure -- and it was. You're plenty capable and he knows it, too.

But you were scared. You don't tell him that right now, instead grounding yourself in the man in front of you. His hands are rough and dangerous to most, but tender and careful to you. The broad, firm line of his shoulders, always braced for the next hit.

The gash on the bridge of his nose, the lines at the corners of his eyes. His beard, greyer every year. You swipe your thumbs along his cheekbones and he sighs.

"Lucky me," you say softly.

You lean in to kiss him, just a light press of your lips to his. His wide palms rest on your bare thighs and he kisses back with a kind of desperate firmness, as if he's proving to himself that you're real. That you're here in front of him, under his hands, in his care.

Joel drags his lips along your cheek.

"Knees," he says.

He steps back and releases your thighs with a squeeze. He treats more of your torn skin, a frown back on his face.

"I do want to hear about your patrol, by the way."

He shrugs. "Not much to tell," he says. "Didn't even get to shoot anythin’.”

You swing your foot back and forth, tapping the side of his thigh with every pass.

"But you had the nice route," you whine. "Tell me what the lake looked like."

"Quit distracting me," he grumbles.

"Like you don't have the steadiest hands in all of Jackson," you say softly.

He snorts. "Are you flirtin' with me?"

"I'm always flirting with you, Joel Miller."

You lied to Jesse earlier -- Joel has hundreds of expressions. He just keeps most of them for you. For Ellie, and Tommy, too. You know every one of them by now.

The look on his face now says he's thinking about kissing you again, maybe just to shut you up.

You grin at him. "Tell me about your patrol, now, seriously. Unless talking and using your hands at the same time is too much for you."

He smirks back. "Think we both know that ain't true."

"Now who's flirting?"

Lazy heat curls in your belly but fatigue stops it from turning into anything. Joel must see that in your eyes because he simply taps your chin with a knuckle and starts talking.

You start to slump as his Texas drawl wraps around you. He tells you how the lake was still, how he and Astrid saw bear tracks but no bear. How he found a tape for Ellie that he's going to give her tomorrow, how he wore his gloves today like you've been telling him to.

Some people might say that Joel is a man of few words. You thought he was the quiet type when you first met him, another stoic survivor in a world that demands hardness of everyone. But not shy, never shy. Just...waiting. Watching.

He and Ellie can shoot the shit for hours -- a dynamic they've fallen back into easily enough since they started spending time together again. He's funny, he's clever, he's annoying as shit when he wants to be.

And Joel is quite the storyteller. If you had to guess you'd say it comes from having to entertain Tommy when they were kids, from getting Sarah into bed on his own over and over. Keeping Ellie occupied, keeping her talking when things were scary and hard and fucking awful.

It's just another way he takes care of people.

"Still with me?" he says. You realize your eyes have closed. When you open them you find Joel looking at you with tenderness and a spark of amusement. The tense line of his shoulders is nowhere to be seen. "All done. Tired?"

"And hungry."

He washes his hands and throws away the various wrappers and blood-stained wipes.

"Sure you're awake enough to eat?" he teases.

You roll your eyes at him. He laughs.

"Joel," you say, catching his elbow. "Thank you."

"C'mon, now."

He looks like he wants to argue with you for saying it but reaches for you instead. He traces the cut on your forehead just like he did at the bottom of the stairs, brow drawn again. You can't tell what he's thinking as he drags his thumb down and around your eye, cupping your cheek fully for just a breath before releasing you and stepping towards the door.

"I'll heat some soup."

Dinner is quick and quiet, your energy sapped from you to the point of exhaustion. Everything aches, despite Joel's thorough care. When he suggests turning in early you don't protest.

He takes longer than you to get ready for bed. You slide under the worn duvet and wait, trying very hard to keep your eyes open. Your bruised ribs throb in time with your heartbeat and when Joel finally turns off the light and gets in bed next to you in his threadbare sleep pants he practically hauls you into his embrace.

You go willingly, tangling your legs and laying your head on the juncture of his neck and shoulder. You press your palm to his chest, fingers threading in the coarse hair. His heart thuds and it grounds you.

"I didn't get any good gossip off Jesse," you whisper. "On account of the whole surprise-infected thing."

He yawns. "S'pose it's a good excuse."

"Can I tell you something else?" you whisper. "A secret?"

Joel hums, lips brushing your temple as his hand snakes up your sleep shirt to press against your lower back.

Even though you know each other down to the bones, some things remain inexplicable. Parts of your pasts that linger in the darkest parts of you, the parts that stay shrouded until the moments like this. You don't have to be brave in the quiet hours of the night, entwined with him as you are. It's the safest place you'll ever be. Safe enough that you can crack open and let Joel in, let those steady and worn hands keep you together.

"I was scared today," you say into his neck. "When the stalker dragged me off the rope. I panicked, I --"

You don't tell him how your initial thought when you hit the ground was of him, how you closed your eyes tight and thought of your name from his mouth, of his smile when you come through the door. The stalker had its bony fingers digging into your ankle and you wondered if you'd ever feel Joel's hands on you again.

Death will come for you sooner or later and when it does it'll be Joel's face that you hold in your mind before it all ends.

But today, you kicked death until its stupid fucking mushroom skull caved in.

Joel presses his lips to your temple. You can feel his heart beating faster, as fast as yours. It's the only thing that betrays his own fear.

Wounds in this life often go deeper than the skin. When Joel comes home with bloody knuckles and shuttered eyes it's one thing to stop the bleeding, to bandage him and get him to eat something. It's another to hold him, to coax out the story, the fear. To follow him downstairs when he has a nightmare, to look for him in every room. It's all part of what you do as partners, as lovers, as people in this world. You take care of each other.

Neither of you can fix a lot of things. But you can ensure the scars heal into something light, something you can barely see.

You can hold each other in the dark.

"Scared me, too," he rasps. A secret for a secret. "Lotta damn blood."

You kiss the underside of his jaw. "Can't get rid of me that easy."

Joel pulls you closer, somehow, mindful of your side.

"Rest, now," he says. "You ain’t goin' anywhere."

It's a command, a promise. You hum your agreement and let sleep drag you under.

thank you for reading <3 reblog, send feedback, general masterlist here!

[avatar-anna]

Champagne Problems

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

Part Two

*.*

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nodding, you said, "Sure."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You? You would probably just wilt.

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

"What kind of dog?"

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

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

"And you named him Buddy?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"A party?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Really? No one?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"See? That wasn't so hard!"

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

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

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

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

*.*

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You've never been?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Finally?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Y/n?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*.*

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

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

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

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

"See anything you like?"

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

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

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

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

"You decided, then?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hayden: Seems fair.

Hayden: Are YOU bringing anyone home?

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Hayden?"

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

"Your brother is Hayden L/n?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*.*

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Fucked in the head?"

"Larissa! Language!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*.*

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What's this?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"That's for my brother, slut."

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

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

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

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

"I think so."

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

"I should explain—"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*.*

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

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

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

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

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

"What?"

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

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

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

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

"His family—"

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

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

"For what?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"See you tomorrow!"

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

*.*

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Lunch sounds perfect."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What are you working on over there?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Harry?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What makes you say that?"

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

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

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

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

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

"When?"

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

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

"New Year's."

"Everyone kisses at the end of the countdown!"

"At game night when he kissed your neck?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*.*

"You should come with me."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"W—What about Buddy?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[sweatyracoon]

How Skz Reacts to your Anxious Ticks

A/n: I have a lot of anxious energy, and many ticks, so why not do a Skz react? Should I do more Skz reacts?

Warnings: Lots of anxiety, blood (not a lot), pet names(baby), talk about getting sick, stress eating, implied panic attacks

Bangchan: Foot tapping

You would be sitting with the guys in the changing room before a concert. Even though you wouldn't be going anywhere near the stage, you were a nervous reck.

Your worries started when Chan slipped on stage, faceplanting right before his verse, triggering something in you. Ever since then, you always worried.

There was a small ambiance, the staff and group members talking, offering a noise buffer, but it wasn't enough.

You didn't realize your foot was tapping until you caught Chan's stare. He looked between you and your foot, motioning for you to calm down.

All you could do was pause your movements until his attention drifted to Hyunjin.

You kept tapping.

It wasn't long before Chan made his way to you, ten minutes before the show.

"Y/n. You're doing it again," He told you with a smile.

"I can't help it, Channie," you responded, looking at him. "What if you fall again?"

He looked surprised. "Y/n, that was two years ago," he said softly, sitting next to you.

"So? It could happen again," You were being stubborn. It wasn't like you.

"How about I promise you that I won't fall," he reached out with his pinky, waiting for you to take it in your own.

"But you don't know that," you whined, making him smile.

"Okay, okay. Fine. How about...I promise to be careful?" Now he was just trying to make you happy.

And it worked.

You nodded, slotting your pinky into his, sealing the deal. He ruffled you hair before saying a quick good luck, and left to the stage.

Lee Know: Finger nail biting

You hadn't known the boys long, but you all were incredibly close. Bangchan being your brother, he invited you with him everywhere.

You were particularly fond of Lee know, but he seemed indifferent. He cared about you, but he was expressionless all the same.

He had started picking up on random habits you began to aquire, one of them bring fingernail biting.

It wasn't safe, nor was it healthy, so anytime be caught you biting a nail, he was there, a scolding ready.

Or at least, that was his plan. But when he came up next to you, ready to interfere, you would look up at him, pausing your mission, your finger still in your mouth. His heart nearly stopped.

Instead of saying anything, he would gently remove your fingers by grasping your wrist slightly, moving it your side.

He would do this whenever he had to.

Cooking? He would stop everything, washing his hands before and after touching you. Who care about the food?

If he's doing an interview and sees you chewing behind the camera? He'll find a moment he isn't needed just to halt your habit.

If he isn't anywhere near you, but Felix snitched through text? He would call you just to make sure you weren't really biting your nails.

"Are you biting, y/n?"

"No..."

"I'm checking your nails tomorrow. You better not be lying, jagi,"

Instead of punishing you, however, when he sees your shortened nails, all he does is look at you, your hand still in his.

"You got to stop, jagi," he whispers, massaging your hand.

"I'm sorry, Lee know. It's just hard,"

"I know, baby,"

Changbin: Stress eating

You were a known eater in the group along side Changbin and Bangchan. The three of you? Eatracha(lol).

But when Changbin noticed you eating twice as much, he assumed it was stress. You looked sad while you ate, which was new.

He took it upon himself to eat with you, the same amount, and he felt sick. But he didn't want you to feel alone.

It was when you started to physically get sick that he decided to intervene.

"Y/n? Maybe you should stop..." he told you, rubbing your shoulders.

In tears, you said, "But I can't, Bin. I've tried. It's like my body needs me to eat, but it can't take that much," you sniffled, leaning into his touch.

"Oh, honey. It's okay. We can just lower your portion slowly. That way, you can get used to eating less, but at a healthy pace, okay? Sound good?" He asked, moving up to your neck.

Feeling the pleasure from his rubs made your head loll back.

"Yeah..."

Hyunjin: Finger tapping

He thought it was cute at first. You tapping the table gently, hearing the soft thuds of your dull fingers. You had just cut your nails, so it didn’t seem so bad. In fact, it gave him ideas for music, not that you would notice. Hearing the same beat you had recently tapped yourself, you weren’t focused on it.

A few days went by, and you were still doing it. If your hands weren’t busy, tap. Tap. Tap. Hyunjin wasn’t the only one that noticed. Bangchan and Changbin both noticed as well, and Jeonjin later. They all told you what was going on, but you just played it off as a habit from childhood, despite them knowing you for years and not once had you had this issue.

As your nails grew, so did the tune of the taps. They seemed more aggressive, more painful. You hit the table harder.

One of your nails broke, causing your finger to bleed. You didn’t notice. You kept tapping.

It was just you and Han in the room. He was on his phone, distracted. He became used to the tapping. It didn’t bother him. You stared at the wall, still moving your fingers through the bloody table, while Hyunjin walked in.

A small gasp, and rushed footsteps caught your attention.

“Hyunjin? What’s wrong?” You asked, oblivious.

“Y/n! Your hands!” He was struggling to sit still at the sight of your blood smeared on the table. You finally stopped tapping, at least.

“Oh…” Was all you could say before you heard a scuttling in one of the drawers. It was Han. He had finally noticed, grabbing some bandages. “I didn’t..I wasn’t…”

“What the hell, y/n? Do you not notice what you’re doing?” Hyunjin muttered, grabbing the bandages from Han, moving towards your hand. He gently pulled your hands towards his own, quickly wrapping it to stop the bleeding.

“Han?” Hyunjin said, but Han only nodded. You watched as we went to go get disinfectant and towels to clean up the table. “Y/n? Look at me,”

You did, embarrassed that this happened in front of him. “I’m sorry,” you started tearing up, your shoulders shaking. You were so anxious, but you had no idea why.

His gaze softened, pulling you into a hug.

“I’m here,”

Han: Hair twirling

You hair want too long, so it didn’t really get in the way. But you liked hair, even your own. After touching Hans for the first time a few months ago, you were hooked. But you knew you couldn’t bother him all the time just to mess with his hair, so you started playing with your own. It wasn’t the same, but it was different, in a good way.

Every day, the boys would eye your hands in your hair, and they never questioned it. They thought it was a girl thing. Right?

Three months later, you were anxious. Immediately, your hands went to your hair. Whenever you were upset? Hair. It was so comforting. Even when you were angry. Scared? Cover your face with your hair, and mess with the dead ends. It cured everything.

Han tripped and fell one day right in front of you, and it scared you. It was so sudden. You knew he was clumsy, but the way he squealed reached your ears at full volume. It was too much.

You jumped back a little, bringing both of your hands to pull your hair in front of your eyes, using your thumb to mess with the tips.

“Jisung? You okay?” You asked from behind your makeshift shield.

“Yeah…? Are you?” You heard him giggle, patting himself down. He shouldn’t be too dirty, we were only in the kitchen, after all.

“Yeah…” you responded. You dropped your curtain, but kept your hand in your hair, twirling it quickly.

Han noticed this and his smile slowly dropped, replaying every moment similar to this one. And one thing was the same in each. Your hair. He was always confused on what started it, but it didn’t seem to harm you, so he was fine with it. But now, he wanted to know.

“Why are your hands always in your hair?” He finally asked, not really meaning to.

“Oh? I just like the way it feels. It’s soothing, I guess,” you responded, shrugging your shoulders.

He got an idea, one that will hopefully change your habit. “Wanna feel mine?” He raised a brow, sending a smile to you.

Your eyes brightened, making his heart flutter. “Really?” You asked, both of your hands now free from the prison that is your hair.

Han nodded.

You both ended up on the couch, his head in your lap as you played with his hair, massaging his scalp.

“I need this to last forever,” Han whispered as you rubbed a sore spot on his lower neck.

“Isn’t forever a long time?” You giggled. However, your heart dropped at his next words.

“Perhaps it isn’t long enough,”

Felix: Lip biting

It started really quick into the friendship. They wanted you with them for every show, and every event. That’s how close you were. But the random photos from strangers and invading fans were just too much. Your privacy was no longer private, and it worried you. It started to affect your sleeping, your eating, and your patience.

You became extremely anxious, which didn’t go unnoticed by the guys. They were always trying to comfort you with something, but it never seemed to last. But you smiled, not wanting to worry them.

The lip biting started at night. You couldn’t sleep, and was bored. You didn’t touch your phone, not wanting to see what people say about you and your friends. It was an accident at first. You bit your lip, wincing at the sudden pain. But then your teeth grazed them again, catching on dry skin. It was annoying you, so you just bit it. And kept going.

You stopped drinking as much water just so your lips could dry out, wanting to bite them again.

While in the dance room with the boys, you were biting, starting off gently. You didn’t want to bleed in front of the boys. They weren’t dancing, but just hanging out. They had to shoot an m/v later in the day, so they wanted to relax.

Bite. Seungmin was messing with Jeonjin, making him form a fist. Bite. Chan was talking to Lee know about the choreo. Bite. Han, Changbin and Hyunjin were sitting in a circle, playing a game. Bite. Wait…

You felt something warm slide down your chin. Then you smelt it. Blood.

“Y/n? Oh my god!” You were grateful Felix whispered, not catching anyone’s attention.

He stood quickly, grabbing your hand and taking you to the restroom. He walked into the girls bathroom without a care in the world, which would have made you giggle if it weren’t for this situation.

“Are you okay? Is the cut deep? What happened?” He ran the water, grabbed a paper towel, wet it, and brought it to your lip.

“Mm ‘Kay,” you muffled, the towel hindering your speech. You saw the ghost of a smile form on his own, making you feel better.

When he moved the now red towel, the bleeding had slowed, making you lick them every so often. You looked at Felix and his sad expression.

“It was an accident. I promise. It won’t happen again,” you promised.

“You sure?”you nodded.

After seeing his worry, and how he took care of you, you knew you would never bite your lip again.

Seungmin: Finger popping

Seungmin popped his knuckles, so why did he feel yours was unnecessary and annoying? Were you copying him? Or mocking him? He didn’t know. But when he walked into Hans room, he didn’t expect to see you on the floor, desperately trying to pop your back.

When you felt the need to pop a bone, doesn’t matter which one, you must pop it quickly, or else you start to get anxious. This was one of those moments. You had popped your elbows, your knees, fingers and neck. Lastly was your back, but you couldn’t get this part. It was too low, so turning on the ground wouldn’t work. And neither was pushing your weight down from a higher surface. You were starting to panic.

“Y/n? What are you doing?” You ignored his words, desperately trying to relieve your growing stress.

“Y/n?” He said a bit louder, seeing you glance at him as you started breathing heavier. “Hey! Hey? What the matter?” Now he was starting to worry.

“My back..”

He looked you up and down before asking, “Does it hurt?” He went to place his hand where you were holding, applying soft pressure.

“No. Needs to pop,” You whimpered, making his eyes widen.

“What?” He went to remove his hand, but you stopped him.

“Could you pop it please? I don’t like it,” You pleaded with him.

You two weren’t close, so seeing this side from you shocked him. Still, the sound of your uncomfortable plead was enough to break him.

“Okay. Show me where,” you did, waiting for him to apply pressure. “Ready?” You nodded, and gasped when he pushed down. The loud pop echoed through the room, making him flinch, pulling his arm from you.

Sitting for a moment to feel the relief, you then turned to him. Your eyes shined and you had a soft smile.

“Thanks, Seungmin. I really appreciate it,”

His heart felt like it would burst. He didn’t know what exactly he was feeling, but he knew that if you ever needed him to pop something, he’d be there. So that’s exactly what he said, making you feel the same way.

“Thank you, Minnie,”

“Your welcome, y/n,”

Jeonjin: Rapid blinking

You were a fan in the audience, not jumping like the rest, but paying the same amount of attention. You were an introvert, no doubt, and didn’t show excitement despite feeling it very much. You had a front row ticket, and was right in front of the eight boys you came to love. Your bias, Jeonjin, was right in front of you, singing his part for ‘I Lose my Breath’, literally making you lose yours.

You started blinking, thinking it was the fog machines effecting you, but it was something else. You didn’t know what until it was too late. The crowd pushing behind you, you felt pressure building inside your chest. No one was touching you, thank god, but you felt the presence of the fans. It was suffocating.

You fell into a blinking fit, unable to keep them open, and unable to keep them closed. This had never happened before, but you weren’t surprised. It was a tic. It would take a while to stop it. So, as to not disturb anyone next to you, you tilted your head, looking at your shoes, or at least, trying to.

You kept blinking, not fighting it, knowing it will make it worse. It started to slow when you felt a tap on your shoulder. It came from in front of you. A security guard? You slowly looked back up, your vision fighting the bright lights. Then you stopped breathing.

Jeonjin?

He was standing in front of you with a worried expression. On stage, it was now dance break, meaning he didn’t need to sing. He was making sure you were okay.

Since he saw you, he felt a pull from that stage, making him linger near your area. He saw that you didn’t even have your phone out like the rest, not jumping or anything. Just swaying lightly on your feet while smiling every time he looked at you. You were a calm in the storm. He liked that. And when he saw you staring at the floor for fifteen minutes, he got worried. Did you not like the show? Did he do something wrong? Did his pants rip?

But when he got to you, he noticed your eyes were watery. He didn’t know why, and didn’t need to either. He motioned for your phone from your front pocket, and you slowly gave it to him, thinking he was going to take a selfie, instead, he was typing. Why? You didn’t know. He came close to your ear after giving it back, and said,

“After the show. Don’t look until then,” was all he said before winking, and walking back to his members.

You stood there confused, but focused on the rest of the show.

After you made it to your hotel after thee show, you checked your phone, wondering what he could have possibly left you. Everything looked normal. You were confused. But when you opened your messages, you saw his name as one of the contacts. What?

You opened it, seeing he already texted himself. You gasped, not sure what to make of it. You slowly typed out something, but didn’t send it, unsure if this was real. Thirty minutes later, you saw his bubbles. He’s texting you?!

“You going to send it or just let it sit?”

[gureumz]

stained glass windows

rating: explicit

member: jungwon

notes: fem!reader, stepcest, dubcon, religious corruption, baby trapping (?), unholy use of scripture (sorry god), dom!jungwon, slight angst, mentions of death, step brother!jungwon, breeding, fingering, dirty talk, unprotected sex, jay has a cameo appearance lol

a/n: so this is an amalgamation of everything everyone requested for jungwon,,,reciting bible verses during sex? i got you. stepcest? no problem. baby trapping (this is 100% what i want and yes my wish is my command)? you bet. religious corruption? hell yeah. something super filthy and kinky? say no more. enjoy, hoes! love ya mwa (the bible verse here is 1 Corinthians 10:13 if you were curious)

sundays are your happy days.

a pretty dress, the stained glass windows, hushed chatter among the churchgoers—these were all the things you waited for at the end of the week.

your mother had always been proud of how involved you are in your faith, showering you with loving words before going to bed when you were little, calling you 'hers and God's favorite angel'. you'd smile and feel a sense of giddiness. God's favorite angel. can you believe it? you made sure to wear that as a badge of honor.

and then you grew up, went to a bigger school, met people who are different from you. even those who you knew were like you, devoted and obedient to their parents and God, seemed to have strayed down the path of parties, drinks, and the unthinkable. that is to say, premarital sex.

you never understood the appeal of it all. your faith and God were enough. you didn't need to participate in such acts to feel anything. you felt Him in every waking moment.

until there came a time when you were convinced He was gone altogether.

until sundays stopped becoming your happy days. every single day was void of any happiness.

your father passed suddenly, leaving you and your mother to fend for yourselves. you watched your mother grieve, grieved on your own, alone in your room. you went to school and saw the excitement in your peers' eyes, talking about a party here and buying drinks there.

you nearly caved. anything to take your mind off your dad.

but this was when your mother spent nearly every day at the church, despite it being mostly empty every day other than sundays. without anything better to do, you tagged along. and you started to feel Him again.

you knew God returned for real when your mother became friendly with a newcomer at church. a businessman who recently moved to your town, towing his son along.

mr. yang, as you later learned. he had a son.

jungwon.

jungwon wore an easy smile, deep dimples appearing every time he did. he shook your hand with a hesitant grip, palms smooth and soft. he had eyes that seemed to sparkle.

seasons changed, months grew into years, and your mother and mr. yang got married.

you saw the life return to your mother's face, easing her shoulders back, smoothing out the creases in her weathered face.

sundays became your happy days again, now that mr. yang and jungwon were in your lives.

---

jungwon is the poster child for the perfect sibling. or, at least that's what you think.

it's been a couple of years since your parents' wedding, and jungwon was nothing short of accommodating. he was kind, always letting you have first picks at whatever food your parents prepared, and offered to do things for you.

granted, it wasn't always like this. the two of you skirted around each other the first few weeks, both former only children, suddenly dealt with the fact that they had a sibling exactly their age. there was even a period of time when jungwon would bolt at the sight of you. though, you tried to not take this to heart.

but after all has been said and done, the two of you fell into a routine, becoming friends of some sort. eternal housemates.

"hurry up. this will be the second week we're late because you couldn't decide what dress to wear."

you turn, spotting jungwon poking his head through the door.

"sorry," you reply bashfully. "these people don't see me on weekdays anymore since i'm off at campus, so you can't really blame me for wanting to make an entrance on the one day they do see me."

jungwon quirks an eyebrow.

"since when did you care what they think?" jungwon questions, stepping fully into your room. he's wearing a dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and crisp black pants.

you note that the watch he has on today makes him look particularly handsome.

you merely shrug. "i don't know. everyone at college dresses so nice and i thought i'd make an effort, too."

jungwon snorts. "everyone at college is a try-hard. it's a small-town liberal arts institution."

"hey, you're a student there, too," you point out, crossing your arms at jungwon.

you watch as he surveys your outfit, eyes slowly making your way down your body. you swallow, suddenly aware of how tight the yellow sundress feels. the fabric seems to dig at your armpits uncomfortably, and the hem is too short and—

"you look good," jungwon says, eyes meeting yours.

you breathe a sigh of relief.

"well, if you say so. i trust your word," you say, smoothing down your skirt.

you feel jungwon approach, circling an arm around your waist, ushering you towards the door.

"i am your brother. i think i'd know what would look good on you," jungwon points out with a wink.

---

the service goes by without a hitch. you participated as you always did, offered your prayers as you usually do. you thanked Him for another successful week of classes but also asking for you to ace your upcoming exams. it was all routine.

until your mother pulled you along, chirping excitedly about a new family that had moved to town and joined the church.

the parks.

a father, a mother, and their son who's a business major at some big-shot university a few towns over.

"i'm jay," the son said to you, reaching his hand towards you as his family introduced themselves to yours. you shook hands and you couldn't help the sudden heat that flooded your face and chest.

your hand still tingles with where he held on, even now on the car ride home

"that jay boy sure is cute," your mother says from the passenger seat. you turn to her, eyebrows raised.

"seems like he has a good head on his shoulders," your stepfather agrees. he looks at you through the rearview mirror.

"the kind of guy girls wanna marry."

you see your mother twist in her seat to give you a knowing look. you roll your eyes but the familiar warmth takes over your entire body again.

"i mean, i don't know. we just met him and his family," you point out, trying not to stutter. you turn to jungwon for backup but your brother has his back turned to you, his face angled toward the window.

"right, jungwon?" you try nonetheless.

"huh?" comes his clueless response. he looks at you and his face is crumpled in a frown. you're taken slightly aback.

before you can say anything, your mother speaks up.

"why don't you try and befriend him, jungwon? they said they only live on the next street over," your mother offers, unaware at how deep jungwon's frown has gotten in the seconds she said that sentence.

"i don't know," jungwon mumbles. "i can try, i guess."

you watch as jungwon turns back to the window, his hand balling into a fist on his lap. you decide not to pry, leaning your own head against the window beside you, watching the little houses in your neighborhood speed by.

---

you urge yourself to stop picking at your fingernails. but you can't help it, either. standing outside your brother's door, you're not sure what awaits you on the other side.

taking a deep breath, you decide to just get it over with. you're certain it's nothing. you're just concerned and you want to see how jungwon's doing.

you knock softly three times, waiting to hear jungwon's voice. after a few seconds, you hear a muffled, 'come in!'.

you push the door open a bit, taking a peek inside jungwon's room. he's sprawled on his bed, his phone in his hands as he scrolls through his screen. his eyes shift to you and he sits up.

"what's up?" jungwon asks as you let yourself in. you don't say anything until you're seated beside him on his bed.

"i didn't want to risk your wrath, so i wasn't sure if i should bring this up with you...," you begin, teeth worrying your lower lip.

jungwon raises a brow. "i don't know what you're talking about. but other than that, you know i can never get upset with you, right?"

you continue to bite down on your lip, unsure of what to say next.

"but you were upset today," you say after a few seconds. "in the car?"

jungwon's face morphs into mild recognition. he nods, finally understanding what you mean.

"oh, that," jungwon deadpans. "it's nothing."

"come on, you can tell me anything, remember?" you urge, pulling your legs up on jungwon's bed before crossing them. jungwon glances down as you do so but quickly averts his eyes back to your face.

"it's nothing, i swear. it's stupid and thinking back on it, it just seems like such a dumb thing to be mad about," jungwon explains, shifting closer to you.

you take his hand and you squeeze as jungwon threads his fingers through the gaps between yours.

your mother often remarked how the two of you seemed more like twins than regular siblings. mirror images of each other. the perfect balance. looking at jungwon now, you see what she meant.

"nothing you say would be stupid to me," you reply, voice soft as your thumb runs over the skin of jungwon's hand.

something flashes across jungwon's face and his eyes seem to trail over every part of you. your skin prickles as he stops right at your chest, pajama top showing the very tops of your breasts.

"i didn't like the way that jay guy was looking at you," jungwon finally admits, gaze returning to your face.

you look at jungwon quizzically. "what? how was he looking at me?"

"like he was undressing you with his eyes," jungwon complains. "he was practically flirting with you."

you laugh incredulously. "no, he wasn't. he said two words to me, wonie."

jungwon shakes his head. "i'm a man, too. i know how our brains and eyes work."

you stop for a second to ponder on jungwon's words. you can't deny the intensity of how jay seemed to be looking at you earlier and the way he held your hand so tight.

"so?" you retaliate. "he's cute. i don't mind."

you see jungwon's jaw clench, the muscles spasming under his skin. his lips press into a thin line and he pulls his hand back from your grasp.

"guys like that will only take advantage of you, _______," jungwon says, voice slow and deliberate.

your forehead creases. "how are you so sure?"

jungwon stares at you for a few moments. he reaches his hand out, cupping one side of your face in his palm. you gulp, your heart jumping at the contact.

"i just know. you trust me, right? i'm your brother, after all."

you nod.

your hand comes up to cover his that's on your face and the room seems to still. the steady hum of the ac fades away, the cicadas outside vanish, and the thumping of your own heart amplifies. jungwon is looking you square in the eye and you can't help but cower under his gaze.

just as jungwon makes a move to lean closer, a loud knock and your mother's voice rips the moment away.

"dinner's ready! come eat!"

jungwon pulls his hand back and you scramble off his bed. you hurriedly cross the room, flinging jungwon's bedroom door open and stepping out, not sparing another glance behind you.

---

you toss and turn that night.

your face still tingles from where jungwon touched you. your mind is reeling with so many thoughts, your imagination seemingly going into each and every unexplored direction.

you and jungwon grew close during the years you spent together since your parents got married. it was like becoming friends. you had to learn things about each other, know what makes the other tick. the two of you never shied away from showing who you truly are. you'd be living under the same roof for the most part, so what's the point in hiding, right?

and jungwon never hid his affection for you. brotherly hugs, encouraging pats on the back, kisses on your forehead. he told yu over and over again how happy he was that you were his sister. that you were the best sister.

and you never hid how much you needed jungwon, either. he taught you how to get home on the bus from college on the weekends. he helped you with any handiwork you required in your room. he gave you the ins and outs of the college cliques and clubs.

jungwon always told you he loves you. you always reached out to jungwon. neither was a secret.

so, what's making you so nervous?

before you can answer yourself, you hear the hinges of your door squeak as it opens. in the dim light of your room, you see a figure step through the doorway, startling you slightly.

"sorry, it's me," jungwon whispers. "i couldn't sleep."

you feel your heart quicken once more as you sit up, watching jungwon make his way to your bed. he plops down on the mattress and looks at you.

"mind if i crash here for a while?" jungwon asks quietly.

jungwon does this on some nights, reasoning the bouts of insomnia as he snuggles up to your side. half of the time he talks, telling you stories of what he did during the day, and the other half he spends holding you to his chest, fingers drawing patterns on your back.

on rare occasions, he asks you to turn away, pressing your back to his front. he sometimes rocks against you gently and whispers how much he loves you in your ear. you feel strange when he does this. but you never complain.

"sure," you reply, scooting to one side of the bed. jungwon moves to lay beside you, pulling the covers over him.

wordlessly, his hands find your hips, tugging you close. you let him, your own arms circling around jungwon's torso. he's warm and smells like fresh laundry. you don't hide the way you inhale his scent.

you stay like that for a few minutes and you almost think that jungwon has fallen asleep. but after a while, he pulls back slightly to look at you.

you meet his eyes, sharp shadows cast across jungwon's face from your night lamp situated on the other side of your room.

"stay away from jay," jungwon says. your mouth falls open in mild surprise.

"why?" you ask. jungwon sighs, cradling your face once more in his hand.

"he doesn't deserve you," jungwon responds, voice hardened with something you can't quite put your finger on.

jungwon's looking down at you and even in the darkened state of your room, you can see the seriousness in his expression. he's clearly still upset from earlier.

"but mom and dad seem to like him," you reason with a pout. jungwon lets out a 'tsk' grasping your face tighter.

you let out a whimper. jungwon was never this heavy-handed with you.

"but i don't like him," jungwon insists. "you need someone who knows you, who can do things for you, who loves you more than anything."

jungwon pushes you onto your back, his leg swinging over to plant his knee on your other side. he grabs at your wrists and presses them down, trapping you as he hovers over you, his face inches away from yours.

"you need me."

you gasp, unable to comprehend the words that had just left jungwon's mouth. you're given no time to work it out in your head because jungwon is kissing you, pressing his lips to yours. you protest, pushing against jungwon but he's too strong for you to fight back properly. he has you pinned down and there's nothing you can do.

"w-what are you doing?" you say as jungwon pulls away for a second. instead of answering, jungwon busies himself with your neck, nipping at your sensitive skin. you squirm and whine but jungwon doesn't let up.

"i love you," jungwon whispers in your ear.

you shiver.

"you love me, too, right?" jungwon questions as he looks at you. you blink away tears that have gathered in your eyes.

you're just so confused. what is he doing? what is happening?

"answer me, angel," jungwon urges gently. he leans down to kiss away at the tears streaming down the side of your face.

"i do," you return weakly.

"no no," jungwon tuts. "say it properly."

you sniffle as you feel more tears fill your eyes.

"i love you."

jungwon seems satisfied because he kisses you again, tongue running over the seam of your lips. you've never kissed anyone before and it feels so foreign, having jungwon's tongue licking into your mouth. but you follow what he does, parting your lips and moving your tongue with his.

jungwon groans, one of his hands letting go of your wrist to grab at your waist instead. he presses you to him and you feel something stiff against your thigh.

"you make me so hard, angel," jungwon groans. he grinds against your leg and you watch as his expression crumples into pleasure.

"t-this is wrong," you sob. "we're not supposed to do this."

and you do feel conflicted with it all. everything you've learned in church, everything you've read through His word, it all says that this is bad. that you should only lay with the man you love, the man you married.

oh, but you do love jungwon. you've loved him since the day you met him.

"do you want to stop?" jungwon asks, stilling above you. you continue to cry, your legs squeezing together as you feel wet heat pool in your underwear.

"God will forgive us, angel girl," jungwon coos, a hand dipping beneath your pajama top.

you mewl as you feel jungwon squeeze at one of your boobs.

"He knows how much we love each other, so he'll forgive us, don't you worry," jungwon reassures as he rolls your nipple between his fingers.

"then we'll make it up to Him with a cute little wedding at a faraway chapel," jungwon continues, his other hand tugging down your shorts and underwear.

you're breathing heavily now, head spinning as your whole body heats up. the ache between your legs grows stronger.

"then we'll have babies," jungwon says. "so many babies we'll be filling up our own pew at church."

you gasp as you feel jungwon's fingers press against your core, working on the nub that you've ever really encountered twice or thrice before, too scared to be condemned to hell if you continued to touch yourself.

"what if we have a baby now, huh?" jungwon asks, placing a chaste kiss to your temple. "make you a mommy so no one can take you from me."

you shake your head, initially appalled at his words, but the thought of carrying jungwon's child, it stirs something in you.

"no?" jungwon asks, voice hinting with playfulness. "you don't want it?"

you look up at jungwon, struggling to find the words to say. you want it but your conscience screams at you to refuse.

"i want it," you finally answer. "want to give you a baby."

"fuck," jungwon curses as the words leave your mouth. he hurriedly discards his shorts, eyes seemingly ablaze.

"yeah? gonna give your brother a baby?" jungwon taunts, fingers circling at your core again. you moan wantonly, a million different feelings coursing through your body.

jungwon pokes in one finger through your entrance and you nearly scream, unprepared for the strange sensation.

"sshhh," jungwon says, pressing down on your mouth with one hand. he adds a second finger in slowly and your back arches off the bed.

"look at you," jungwon says with a grin. "your body responds so well to me, huh, angel?"

you cry into jungwon's palm as you feel him pump his fingers in and out of you, curling them inside every time he pushes in. you feel a tightness in your belly and more wetness pooling out of you. your body jolts with every movement of jungwon's fingers.

"shit, i can't take this anymore," jungwon mutters, pulling his fingers out. you whine, hips involuntarily pushing up as they search for friction.

"i got you," jungwon says, taking his hand off your face. the room is filled with your soft sobs, a mix of the lingering guilt and the newfound pleasure.

jungwon strokes his shaft a few times and you watch with bated breath as he aligns himself between your legs. you feel him push against you and you start to cry even harder, fear of what's to come gripping you like no other.

jungwon pushes halfway in and any scream threatening to break free from your lips is muted by jungwon pressing his mouth to yours. you cry and cry and cry as jungwon keeps pushing in, burying himself to the hilt seconds later.

he stills, pulling away to let you breathe. you hiccup, the stretch between your legs equal parts painful and filling in the best way possible.

"s-so big," you sob. "c-can feel you in my belly."

jungwon groans, his hip snapping up involuntarily. you whine, biting down hard on your lip.

"yeah? can you feel me here?" jungwon asks, a large hand pressing down on your lower abdomen. he starts to move then, slowly pulling out then thrusting back in.

"yes!" you gasp. "yes, yes, it's so deep."

"God, angel, you sound so beautiful when you're being fucked," jungwon says, speeding up.

"recite to me your favorite bible verse," jungwon commands. you barely hear him with the way he's moving his hips against yours.

"w-what?" you mumble in a daze.

jungwon takes hold of your face, forcing you to look directly at him.

"your favorite bible verse, angel girl. let me hear your pretty voice."

you rack your brain for it. you should know it by heart, have it seared into your consciousness. but the way jungwon is taking you right at this moment wipes away nearly all thoughts of scripture.

"no temptation has overtaken you that is not common to man," you begin, trying to keep your voice steady as jungwon scrutinizes you, fingers still digging into your cheeks.

"God is faithful, and he will not let you be tempted beyond your ability," you continue. jungwon smirks, nodding, urging you to go on.

you're about to speak when you feel jungwon's thumb press down on your sensitive nub. you cry out, the added sensation muddling your brain even further.

"go on," jungwon orders.

"b-but with the temptation he will also provide the way of escape, that you may be able to e-ndure it," you finish with a shaky breath.

"good job, angel," jungwon says, letting go of your face and leaning in to kiss you briefly on your forehead.

your head falls back against your pillow, your vision blurring as all you can feel is jungwon moving in and out of you. all you can think of is jungwon. all you ever need, right at this moment, is jungwon.

your brother. the man you love. the man you want to have all your babies with.

"so tight, so fucking tight," jungwon babbles, pushing your legs up so he can get a better angle. your lower half rises off the bed and jungwon fucks into you even harder, snapping his hips against your insides with a force that has you gripping onto your sheets for dear life.

jungwon continues on like this, sweat dripping down his forehead. any pain is gone now, replaced with a want, a need for some sort of release.

you don't know what compels you to talk, but you can't help the next words that come out of your mouth.

"p-please, jungwon. feels so good. w-wanna be a mommy, want it so bad. n-need it!"

jungwon seems to let himself go then, hips moving erratically, not caring if you're bent nearly in half, his grip on your thighs painful as his fingernails poke at your skin. it feels good, you think, your insides clenching and tingling at the sight of jungwon getting nearly animalistic with you.

it almost fills you with joy. knowing that he's only ever like this with you.

a few moments later, jungwon's hips start to stutter.

"gonna give you my babies, angel girl. i'm so close, so close to making you a mommy—fuck!"

the words from jungwon stop any coherent thought in your brain as a sort of euphoria takes over you, your whole body tightening up. jungwon completely stills, pressing himself in deeper. a warm feeling spreads from where he's sheathed inside you.

the two of you remain unmoving, panting as your minds catch up with your bodies. jungwon pulls out moments later, replacing his cock with his fingers. you protest weakly as jungwon moves his fingers shallowly in and out of you.

"i came so much, angel," jungwon says with a chuckle. he pulls his fingers out and shows you his fingers, coated with his milky white release.

"your belly's gonna be all swollen up in nine months, for sure," jungwon muses, pushing his fingers against your mouth. you part your lips hesitantly, licking at the saltiness.

"good girl," jungwon praises, pulling his hand away before kissing you sweetly.

"i love you," jungwon mumbles against your lips.

you hold his face steady, thumbs rubbing at his cheeks. you meld your lips together, the elation finally catching up to you.

there are no stained glass windows in your room, your body bare and void of pretty dresses, and the night is still and quiet.

it's still sunday. it's still your happy day.

"i love you, too," you say as you and jungwon share a smile.

[trulyhblue]

please can we get a caitlin foord fic 🙏

Bug and Bingo

Caitlin Foord x Daughter! Child! Reader, Lauren Hemp x Child! Reader, AWFC + CITY x Child! Reader.

Warnings: pure fluff, coarse language, bit long for what I hoped.

A/N — was feeling cute. So sorry if you don't understand what Bluey is. Also, not really based on the most recent match as there are several changes.

__________________________

You were waiting for your mama to finish the bunny loops on her shoelaces, humming the Bluey theme song with your Bingo toy in one hand and Gunnersauris in the other.

You swung your legs from your mama’s cubby, where your coat was pooled around your waist. Auntie Stephy was talking to Beth, and Auntie Lani wasn't in the Changing Rooms, even though she was here, playing today.

Your mama told you that Auntie Lani was playing for the other team, and it wasn't the same as when you were back with all of your other Aunties. It was the same as when mama versed Macca and Mini, and Sammy — but Sammy was watching Macca and Mini’s game instead of playing, which you aren't quite sure you understand.

Sammy’s wife-but-not-girlfriend — you couldn't remember the name — Kristie also played for West Ham, but she only picks you up when you're running away from Sammy trying to tickle your tummy.

You also remember seeing Harper last week, showing her your Bingo toy, and playing hot potato with her in the stands. You love Harper, she is your only friend who knows about Bluey, and she's Australian like you. In Kindergarten, you and Harper are the only ones who speak the way you do. Your mama always asked you whether your classmates would tease you, but Harper would poke her tongue out at them, and you’d ignore them and play with Harper instead.

Your Gunnersauris was lying next to your coat, and your Bingo toy was snuggled under your arm. You were wearing your mama’s Tillie’s jersey because you liked it more than the one she was wearing now. Your Auntie Ky would call the other jersey the Cotton Candy Jersey, and you liked Cotton Candy, so you wore that Jersey when everyone else was. You liked wearing your mama’s jersey because it had your last name on the back too, and number nine was your favourite number so that made it the best. Mama said you were born on the ninth of September, which is the ninth month, so you are very special.

But the most special thing about today was that you were in charge of the Lolly Jar.

“Mama, when we going?” You asked, patting Bingo’s head, hoping she was comfortable where she was. You were slouching against the wall, watching Mama pull up her socks over her shin pads.

She looked up at you and smiled, using her thumb to graze your cheek. “Few minutes, Bug, you excited?”

You nodded your head. “Wanna see Auntie Lani and Mary. Will they sit with me with the Lolly Jar?”

“No, Bug, they sit with the other City girls.” Mama picked you up, propping you onto her hip, jutting you slightly. “But you're sitting with Stephy for the first half, then Vivid and Laura when Stephy comes on. But if I let you take care of the Lolly Jar, you've got to share, okay?”

You weren't too keen on sharing your lollies, especially your strawberry and cream ones, but Laura liked the Sour candy that was too hard for your teeth, and Vivi said that she thinks Snoep is bad for your teeth, so you think you’ll survive.

“Mama want a Lolly?” You asked, motioning towards the jar filled with lollies of all sorts.

“No, thank you, Bub.” Mama laughs, kissing your cheeks and tucking away your fly-away hairs.

“Can I have a lolly, Bug?” Your little body turned to face the voice.

Ky Ky was walking towards you with a warm grin, her hand coming up to fiddle with your collar. You giggled when her finger came in contact with your neck, sending giggles to echo through the room.

“Ky ky no manners.” You spoke, nuzzling your head further into Mama’s neck. Your mama laughed at Kyra’s dejected countenance.

“Yes, you're right,” The younger Aussie player admitted, shaking her head and pretending to act frustrated at herself for forgetting such a thing.

You, however, didn't catch onto her sarcasm, feeling a wave of empathy surging over you. You pulled your arms away from Mama, reaching out and whining for Ky Ky to hold you instead. Your mama handled her over, and you gripped the back of Kyra’s shirt as she danced with you in her arms.

“Ky Ky ‘gonna score today?” You asked, feeling the nip of the cool air shiver down your spine as the girls started exiting into the tunnel.

“I’ll try my best for you, Bub. You've just got to cheer extra loud for me, deal?” Ky held you impossibly close to her chest, her arm protecting you from feeling flimsy, and her body cradling the front half of your body from the cold.

“Will give you extra lollies and cuddles if you do.” You could see Leah at the front of the line with her big red ribbon around her arm, though Mama had told you it was an armband. You told your mama that they should do ribbons instead, hoping she could change it soon because ribbons were very pretty.

You had two yellow ribbons in each of your pigtails, which Lessi had done for you on the bus ride. Lessi was the best cuddle buddy, after Mama and Ky. She would rub and scratch your back with her nails gently, and let you trace her tattoos on her hands. Lessi was your favourite cuddle buddy, even if she wasn't the best. She was always the one you fell asleep on, and she’d always share her blanket with you when you sat next to her on the bench.

“If you don't score, I’ll just give you cuddles.” You muttered, readjusting your position in Kyra’s arms. She helped you by lifting you just above her hip, your legs locked around her waist. “Cuddles are never not allowed.”

“That's very sweet, Bub, thank you.”

“That's okay. Love you, Ky Ky.” You added, not noticing your Mama coming up behind you.

“Hey, Bub, time to put on your coat.” She said, slowly threading your small arms through the holes of the thick fabric. While your body moved without fuss, you made sure to whine a little loudly and huff to show how much you didn't like wearing your coat.

The people who loved your mama — not as much as you — and watched her play with her teammates weren't always allowed to see you. The people in the stands would inevitably catch sight of your chubby cheeks and small figure huddled in a mound of warm clothes and cuddles, whether that be during the lineup or when you were sitting on the bench.

Mama didn't like people seeing your face on their phones. She told you that cameras could cause you to feel big girl emotions, and while you were a big girl, Mama always tried her best to keep you discreet.

You didn't care all that much. Lessi would let you take funny videos with filters on your face when you talk with her on long bus rides. Stephy and Bethy would do dancing videos with you, which you love. So overall, you weren't too concerned with missing out on all that much.

But sometimes you felt like you wanted to be normal. You were cold, obviously, and the coat would warm you up, but you knew your mama wanted you to put it on for a different reason.

“Wanna stay with Ky for standing, Mama. Don't want the coat.”

Kyra acted like she had zoned out of the conversation, not sure how to manage a discussion that sounded so innocent, but had a deeper meaning behind it.

“As long as Kyra’s okay with it then you can.” Caitlin took your hand, squeezing it and zipping up your coat. “But you need to keep this on or else you’ll get a stuffy nose and a sore throat.”

“Still want my Lolly Jar.” You mumbled, not entirely content with the defeat in your situation.

Your Mama nodded, swiping your cheek. “Auntie Steph has got it in her lap for when you sit with her, alright?”

While you weren't awfully content with her decision, you sulked as you let the sleeves cover your body, hearing the zip dousing your body in a new-found warmth. You would never admit that the sensation was relieving, but you chose to snuggle back into Kyra’s chest when both teams started walking out into the crisp air.

There were a few smiles exchanged between the teams, but you understood that they both wanted to win and have the ball more than the other. Your yellow jersey stuck out under your coat, your pigtails and their bright yellow ribbons drawing more attention to yourself as usual. Your face was clasped into Ky’s neck, her body bobbing you up and down in swift motions. The crowd was beaming in excitement as everyone shook hands. You were too busy playing with the hem of Kyra’s jersey to notice the people rubbing your back and smiling.

“Cuddles now?” You asked your Ky Ky, prodding to the comfy chairs where Steph, and Kim were chatting in hushed whispers. Wally and Cloé were laughing with Stina and Laia, but you couldn't find your Auntie Vivi anywhere.

“I'm playing with your mama, Bug,” Ky spoke, rubbing your back as the two of you trudged over to the bench. “You're gonna show everyone your Lollies, aren't you? Mama said Stephy has the jar.”

You knew that Mama only gave you your lolly jar when you were feeling restless before a game. Sometimes, you just want to be attached to someone, whether that be Mama, Ky, or especially Vivi. You weren't used to not having your Auntie by your side during matches. When your Aunties had sore knees, you would sit with them in the crowd, showing them Bingo and bouncing ecstatically in your seat when they’d play games with you.

Bethy always let you swing your legs, and Lau would squish your cheeks and play Bingo games with you. Lau would make you giggle when Lee was talking about the game, and you’d clamour into the blonde’s lap and babble on about how she was a nervous Nelly, cause that's what your Mama calls you when you go to school sometimes.

Bethy wouldn't always let you have your Lolly jar, even though your Mama gave it to you. She said that it made you wiggle more and wiggles were hard to get rid of. But Vivi would always slip you some strawberry and cream lollies when Bethy wasn't looking. She’d make sure you always had a handful of your favourites when Beth was Roo immersed in the game.

You loved your Vivi.

It wasn't too bad when Bethy left, because you still had Vivi, Lee, and Lau, but then Vivi left, and now Lee, and so Lau sits in the stands with other people, and Mama doesn't want to leave Laura to take of you by herself, especially when her knee was only just mending fully.

But Vivi must've hurt her knee again because you saw her and Lau sitting in the stands without you.

It made you even more restless knowing that neither Ky nor Viv was there to play with you. You loved all of your Aunties, but some of them didn't have cuddles like Ky.

“Hello, Bug!” You heard your Auntie Stephy say. Kyra was careful in sparing the last of your affection, kneeling in front of Steph and peeling you off her slowly.

You didn't answer your Aunt, feeling what your mama called big girl feelings when Kyra kissed your forehead and ran towards the team. You latched onto Steph, who was going to put you down beside her before you curled into her lap. She wrapped her arms over your small body, pulling her blanket over the top of both of you so that you were in a cocoon of warmth.

You grabbed Steph’s pointer finger and squeezed. Bingo was facing the grassy field while you had your head towards Lia.

“Are you playing with Mama today?” You asked, settling one of your arms over Lia’s lap.

Lia and your Mama were in love like Vivi and Beth, but Mama says that their friends now. You don't remember a lot without Wally living with you, but Wally wasn't your Mama like Mama was your Mama. You were Mama’s more than anyone else. Auntie Lani always called you Cait, and Auntie Macca would say that you were your Mama’s twin.

Lia was a very nice cuddle buddy. She read bedtime stories to you and let you sleep in her and Mama’s bed if Mama was already asleep.

But now Wally didn't live with you anymore, and the bed was a lot bigger without two cuddle buddies.

“I might be after the second half, but right now I'm here with you,” Lia answered, squeezing your flushed cheeks before drawing patterns on your hand.

You looked up at Steph, reaching for her face, and settling your hand on her cheek. “Where’s Lani and Flower?”

Wally and Kim laughed from either side of you. Mary’s real name wasn't Flower, but she was pretty like a flower, and you thought that Mary smelt like a flower too, so that's what stuck. You made the mistake of looking at your Mama’s team, unable to spot your Australian friends amidst the team.

“They're both on the bench, Bug.”

You peered across the seats around you, only finding Arsenal girls.

“Not this bench, darling.” Stephy shook her head. “Different one.”

“Why not all together?” You asked, folding your arms across your chest. The ball went out of play, and you forgot your question when you saw Mama retrieving the ball.

You squealed when your Mama waved, putting your hands in your mouth and blushing when one of the Lani-Flower teammates gushed at you in adoration.

The Lani-Flower teammate was blonde, and wore a ponytail very high on her head. While she wasn't someone you were particularly familiar with, you made the effort to wave meekly at her, feeling a blush film across your face when the woman waved back.

“Classic Hempo.” You heard someone say, and you wondered whether Hempo was your friend or not. She wasn't an Australian like you, because you had never seen her back home. Maybe she was one of Bethy’s friends, because when she yelled, she sounded a lot like her friends.

“Wanna give her one of my Lollies.” You announced, looking down at the jar that Steph had put on the floor, reaching down and using all of your strength to get it on your lap.

“Maybe after the game, Bug,” Steph spoke, opening the jar, and letting you pop one of the sweets into your mouth. “Lauren is playing at the moment. If you want, you can give her one at the very end, okay?”

Your eyebrows furrowed. “Who’s Lauren?”

Steph sighed, shaking her head with a soft smile. “The girl that just waved at you.”

“Hempo?”

“Yes, darling, Hempo.”

The game continued on for what felt like forever. No one was scoring goals, not even your Mama. Most of the girls on the bench had grown anxious leading into halftime, and now it was Steph who was playing with your hands as you watched both teams tread towards the Changing Rooms.

Kim was very scary at times, even when her scariness was directed at you. She was very, very stern, and sometimes you had to cover Bingo’s ears because what she was saying was not always appropriate for younger ears.

Lee was also letting out her frustration. Leah was definitely opposed to the lack of goals since she was encouraging all of the girls to get back out there and try harder. You wondered why the Lani-Flower Team was so hard to beat when Mary and Lani weren't even playing. You’d understand if they were on the field, but they must've had superpowers that made the team really good because they were on the bench that you couldn't see.

Leah had the big band around her arm — the one you thought should be a ribbon but wasn't. You wore your ribbons all the time, at home, school, games, everywhere. Mama would send photos to your Auntie Hayley all the time, showing how her legacy was proven charismatic on her daughter.

Hayley was someone you missed a lot, especially when she and Mama never versed each other. When you were in Australia, Hayley would do your hair, and she’d use her own special ribbons. She would spend a lot of time with you. She and Ellie Belly would go out with you on what they called ‘Big Girl Days’, where you’d play at the park, get ice cream, and go to the movies, all in one day. You loved Ellie Belly, she was as silly as you. She loved blowing raspberries on your tummy. She was always throwing you up in the air, giving your Mama a surprised face.

You wanted a Big Girl Day now, you thought to yourself. The weather in London wasn't nice. You liked swimming with Harper and Harley. You liked spending time with your Australian Aunties in the sun.

You were sitting in Lessi’s lap, keeping yourself still as she redid her hair. Your coat was left on your seat on the bench, but the Changing Rooms were nice and cosy so no one paid much attention. Your Mama was fixing her hair as well, something everyone seemed to do, so you paddled over to her and tugged on her shorts.

“Hold on a second, Bug,” Mama spoke, smiling down at you, patting the wispy bits of your hair behind your ears.

You didn't want to wait, so you sighed and waddled to the next available person.

You tugged on Katie’s shorts, latching onto her leg and beaming at the woman’s immediate reaction.

“Well, hello, Miss Yellow!” She uttered, jostling your bright-coloured jersey and fixing your ribbons.

“I'm not Miss Yellow!” You laughed loudly, swatting away her hand. “I'm Bug!”

“You're a bug and yellow?!” Katie’s eyebrows raised as she pretended to be shocked. Everyone looked on in adoration, but to you her shock was real. Your laughter emulsified. “That means you're a Bee!”

“No, I'm not a BumbleBee!” You grinned, clasping your arms around her neck, soaking in the way she held you close. “I'm just Bug!”

“Oh, you're bug!” Katie huffed, shaking her head and sighing. “You scared me, Bug. I thought you were a Bee.”

“A Bumblebee, Katie.”

“That's right, a Bumblebee.”

You huffed, deciding that you were just smarter. “You're so silly, Katie.”

Katie let you run over to Mama, who swung you playfully all the way to the bench again.

Everyone was coming back onto the pitch, and the refs blew their loud whistles so that they could start kicking the ball. Both teams were a little bit more aggressive in everything they did. Katie was pushing and getting shoved, and Hempo was doing the same. Another blonde Lani-Flower girl was getting angry at Katie, but the Refs didn't put up their naughty cards so the game went on.

It had been a little while since you were sitting alone on the bench with just Bingo and your Lolly Jar. You scanned the pitch again, wondering whether Hempo was, but couldn't find her. Everyone was warming up on the sidelines. Steph had told you to count how many lollies you could eat so that you were left with something to do.

But you were growing very bored when no goals were happening, and no one to talk to.

So, as your Mama always said, do what makes you happy.

So you did.

You clambered out of your seat, using your big muscles to lug the Lolly Jar with you. Everyone was still playing around you, but you knew that Lani and Mary were here somewhere.

Without thinking, you forget your coat in your chair.

You were careful with every step you took, making sure you were holding the Jar tight. You stopped and waited for people to pass by so you weren't in the way, and it didn't take long for Red Jerseys to turn into Blue ones.

You felt a little out of place with your bright yellow jersey, you thought that no one else knew what you were wearing. After a little while longer of trampling down the sideline, you found a similar bench to the Arsenal one, except there was not a blotch of red in sight.

It took you a few more steps until you shivered at the coolness. You felt silly for not remembering your coat like Mama told you, but you didn't want to leave your Lollies instead. Mama told you to always share your Lollies, so you were doing what she told you to do, just not everything.

You found a coat similar to yours alone on one of the seats. It looked very warm, and you wanted to be warm, so you put the jar down with caution and grabbed the jacket with ease, slipping it on like Mama had taught you.

It wasn't until you saw Mary being subbed on and a cautious hand grabbing your shoulder that you realised that you had one of your ribbons falling from your hair.

“Um, excuse me.” You heard a woman say, making your little head reel up. “I think you're wearing my jacket.”

The sight of Hempo — or Lauren, as Stephy said — sent you into shyness. Mama said you weren't allowed to talk to strangers, even if they seemed friendly and smiled. You didn't necessarily think of Hempo as a stranger, since Mama talked to her and Stephy knew her name, but you only knew her from today, so an introduction was needed in order for you to feel even remotely safe.

“Was cold.” You muttered, holding your Lolly Jar as tight as you could, making you realise that you had not only left your coat on the Arsenal Bench, but Bingo, too. “Sorry.”

This sent your big girl feelings over the edge. The combined factors of strangers, the loud noises of the crowd, your coldness, and no Bingo made your lips quiver and your eyes rimmed with tears. You struggled to put the Lolly jar down but did so in a hurry, avoiding Hempo’s eyes as you tried to shake off her jacket.

The blonde woman stood above you in shock, feeling a wave of guilt wash over her when tears flooded your cheeks. She hadn't meant to make you cry. She was just confused about why you were there, and not with Arsenal, and why you were wearing her coat instead of your own.

“Oh, no, I'm so sorry.” She spoke, shaking her head as she knelt on the floor, making sure you were okay with her being at your level. “You can keep my jacket, I swear. You're smart for staying warm—”

“—Mama says swearing is bad.” You retorted, tears drying the minute the blonde spoke. Sniffles fell from your nose. “Are you on the Lani-Flower’s team?”

Lauren looked at you incredulously. “The what?”

“My Auntie Lani and Flow— Fowler, is on that team,” You pointed onto the pitch, specifically Mary, who was carrying the ball down the wing. Lauren glanced across the field, noticing Mary had no clue about what was going on. She looked back at you and smiled meekly.

“Is your Mum or Dad in the crowd somewhere? I could always help you find them.”

The mention of a father made your eyebrows furrow. You had thought that Hempo had known your Mama, but apparently not.

“You were talking to my Mama just then!” You sighed, picking up your Jar and peeling off the lid. “I was sitting on Stephy’s lap when you waved at me.”

“What?” It took a beat for Hempo’s face to change, a flow of realisation painting her features. You popped a treat into your mouth. “Oh! You're Foord’s daughter! Sorry, wait-”

You watched as the woman kneeled down again, carefully using her hands to open the split of her jacket that covered your jersey. It revealed the bold Australian colours and emblem. You pivoted so that your shoulders showed off your last name.

“Want a Lolly?” You asked, holding out the heavy container.

“Sure… I guess.” Lauren hesitated but nodded after soaking in your adamant state. “I'm sorry for asking but… why are you over here?”

“I'm looking for Auntie Lani.” You stated, not bothering to ask the woman before making your way over to a spare seat. “Mama told me that I should share my Lollies, but my Auntie Stephy was warming up, and Kim is a little scary sometimes, and Wally was stretching, and Ky Ky was playing, so Flower and Lani were left.”

Lauren managed to understand your whines to help you up onto the chair, joining next to you. “Did Caitlin say you could come over here.”

“Um,” You pondered, slightly sheepish. “She didn't say no.”

“Oh,” Lauren replied, unable to conform to a solid response. “Um, do you want me to get Alanna for you, then?”

You thought to yourself for a moment, thinking about whether Hempo was nice enough to stay with you until you felt like moving again. You settled on a yes.

“No that's okay.” You spoke, leaving the Lolly Jar on your chair and moving into Lauren’s lap. “You can have more Lollies. Mama said I should share.”

Without thinking, Lauren shoved her hand down the jar, grabbed a handful of lollies and slowly popped them into her mouth one by one. She didn't know if keeping you with her was a good idea, especially after Laia shot a brilliant goal, sending City into the lead. Alanna was warming up, getting ready to go on, so no Australians could help her out.

You weren't affected by the score, too busy babbling on about how much you wanted some sort of Bingo that Lauren had no idea about. You were content on the woman’s knee, happy in the way she bobbed up and down rhythmically, similar to how Ellie Belly would when your Mama was in interviews.

You both fell into comfortable conversation, leading each other into new topics as the game went on. Lauren let you play with her hands, and you didn't mind how many strawberries and creams she was taking from your jar. No one from either team had noticed the two of you in your own little bubble.

Everyone except a man with a big camera and a microphone.

The English woman didn't know you well. She knew that Caitlin kept you away from the media and that you were a very private part of her life that she kept at bay. You were a bubbly child with a bright personality, she thought, but she also wondered whether you got yourself into trouble as often as it seemed.

Lauren knew the man from City’s media team. He was friendly, and nice to talk to, but she had never had the experience of a toddler in her arms to handle this kind of attention.

“Who might this be?” He spoke, holding the camera up to the both of you.

Before Lauren could answer, you swerved your front to face her chest, potent in the way you shoved your body away from the camera. Your Mama had taught you to do this from a very young age, and now it felt like second nature.

Lauren caught onto your worry almost instantly, shaking her head towards the kind man, waving his endeavours off.

The man must've caught on quickly, as the camera dropped as fast as it arrived. You kept your head buried into Hempo’s neck, curling your legs around her waist, thankful for the way she pulled your hood up.

“Don't worry, I don't like cameras all that much, either.” She cooed, rubbing your back in comforting circles, relieved at your tense figure softening as she did so. “Sometimes it's just good to talk without them, eh?”

“Yeah,” You muttered in agreement, pulling your head away slowly, taking your time to turn back around.

The game was coming to an end, heading into extra time, and you were feeling the effects of your long adventure hurling over your little body.

Arsenal were not playing to their strengths, and the frustration of their gameplay radiated in beams to everyone who watched.

You had just caught sight of Auntie Lani being subbed on before your eyes had drifted close and your breathing had evened. Lauren only noticed your deep slumber when the full-time whistle blew, and you made no more advancements towards your Lolly Jar.

Hempo tried extra hard to keep you sound as she curled her arms around you, lifting you into a cuddle, and walked towards her celebrating teammates and defeated rivals silently. With your hood still up and the blonde rubbing small patterns on your back, you held onto the woman peacefully, relishing the fatigue that had caught up to you.

Hempo had separated from her confused teammates — who were all questioning when Lauren ever had any affiliation with a child — and strolled over to the Arsenal bench, where a flurry of anxiety hit her straight.

Kyra was indefinitely pale. Wally and Leah were searching the parameters of the field. Katie was ridiculing fans, and Caitlin was an absolute wreck.

Beth was beside herself, Viv by her side, comforting her spouse with a strained expression herself.

A flooding red flushed Lauren’s face, the reality of the stress the girls in front of her were under hitting her like a truck. She was conflicted in keeping you sleeping and running over to announce that you were okay. She resulted in jogging cautiously, nearly dropping the Lolly Jar on the way.

Leah was the first to notice the young Lioness. “Lauren, what are you—”

The Arsenal Captain nearly collapsed at the sight of your tiny figure curled up in her arms, meeting the woman in the middle and calling out to the rest of the girls.

“Oh my fucking God, where was she?” Caitlin sighed, immediately taking you from Lauren’s chest and hugging the breath from your lungs.

You stirred out of your daze, surprised by the sound of your Mama’s voice and not Lauren’s.

“Mama swear.” You whispered, not comprehending the gravity of the situation as you found a new comfortable position in your Mama’s arms.

“She was just wandering around with her Lolly Jar, looking for Alanna and Mary,” Lauren spoke, her voice cracking at the amount of eyes on her. “I was with her the whole time. She just wanted to share her Lollies, and erm— she forgot her coat so— yeah… oh and something about Bingo—”

“Thank you so much,” Caitlin said, looking down at you and hugging you closer. “How long did you think she was by herself?”

“Oh, not long.” Lauren started. “I found her with my coat on, so she knew what to do with herself. But I made sure no one recorded her. I'm not sure about when she was alone though, sorry.”

“Don't be.” Caitlin sighed. “I'm just glad she was with someone.”

“Shared my Lollies, Mama.” You whispered out from her neck. “But I think we need more Strawberries and Cream.”

Katie came up behind you and Mama with your toy Bingo in her hands. She took off your hood and poked your cheeks. “I think that's enough lollies for you, Bumblebee.”

You took Bingo and hugged her, smiling like not a minute in the world had passed, content with the new friend you had made and the lollies you had eaten.

You hoped every match was like this.

________________________

[midnightbears]

Arranged marriage with Gyomei pls. Kagaya matched Gyomei with Y/N ​​for some reason and Gyomei slowly falling in love with y/n 🥲🥲❤

✿ i love you, and i want to find out what that means together.

#STARRING: himejima gyomei ft. fem!reader

#TAGS: arranged marriage. gyomei is in his early twenties in this one! set before the main events of kny. some invented lore for the sake of the story please just bear it thanks

#NOTES: hello there! thank you for your request <3 tbh I've always had this specific idea stuck in my head and you just gave me a reason to write for it LMAO i actually went kind of crazy with this fic omg i loved to write it let me know if u would like a part two! hope you like it and hope it wasn't too much LMAOOo

your existence could be hashed over with one word.

purpose.

ever since you could remember, your entire life had been mapped out for you: what to eat, what to not eat, what to like, what to dislike, what to wear, your hobbies, your pastimes, your vocabulary—everything. apparently, every inane thing that had been shoved down your throat was only done to make you a dignified woman worthy of whichever lord they married you off to.

you and your family hailed from a long line of priests and priestesses, where the girls were raised to be proper wives and shrine maidens and the boys were carefully taught the profession in hopes of serving important figures throughout japan.

you were helping your mother tend to the flowers one day when a messenger from the ubuyashiki clan—a kakushi, as you heard they were called—appeared before your temple's door, asking your father to choose and provide the clan with one of his daughters.

you were picked immediately, and you had no choice but to stand before your father, trembling, and pretend that you agreed with his decision with a serene expression on your face. you could tell this was just his way of finally getting rid of you.

in the words of your father behind closed doors, if someone couldn't be bothered to have the decency to visit the temple in person and instead sent a mere messenger to request a carefully trained shrine maiden, it was clear they didn't deserve the best of what he could offer.

you smiled, agreeing with him.

when you went to pack what little things you had, nobody was in the shared quarters; at least you would spare yourself of your sisters' cruel remarks over your father's decision. you did not have many things of your own; you packed your hairbrush, a book, and what few things you held dear.

the kakushi was waiting outside when you emerged. trying to maintain a semblance of calm, you offered him a small smile. he looked at you with curiosity but did not say anything. kindly, he allowed you a moment for a brief prayer before the buddha statue at the front of the temple. then, you were off.

no one came to say goodbye to you.

it was alright, you supposed. the only person you could think fondly of was your mother, and a barbed wire of melancholy slowly wound around your heart at the thought of not being able to part ways properly. you knew that she preferred you over her other daughters, but even so, you were aware that she would never hear the end of it from your father if she came to say her farewells. you would write to her.

you were the third of six sisters, and always, one of them was more talented than you were, just a tad bit more attractive, just a tad bit more creative, just a tad bit more charming. sure, you were well-versed in the duties of a useful spouse—okay, all your sisters were as well. what good was that when you had nothing special about you? what was it your father called you? ah, yes, mediocre.

the kakushi did not speak to you for the entire trip, for which reason you did not know. a question hung on the tip of your tongue, although you dared not ask it. at some point, he urged you to wear a blindfold and climb on his back, which you simply accepted, knowing better than to ask.

you didn't make anything out during the journey, only listening to the sound of small pebbles vibrating against the ground as he made his way up a mountain. after what felt like hours, he finally put you down, gently tugging the blindfold off you and allowing your eyes to adjust to the bright light of morning.

once you were presentable, he escorted you toward the estate entrance. you could tell he was a bit off put by the way you were just accepting things, but he didn't say anything about it.

the kakushi stopped before the towering gate of the ubuyashiki mansion and offered you a deep bow. you thanked him, and you could see him smile with his eyes before he left. another kakushi, a woman this time, escorted you toward a graveled garden, a small figure sitting by the engawa.

she knelt on the ground and bowed her head, and you did the same until she picked herself from the ground.

looking forward, you met the gaze of a boy who looked to be around the age of fifteen, with kohl black hair that sat just above his shoulders. he had the most beautiful eyes you had ever seen, so easy to look at, lavender tainting the irises. he had the calming smile of a buddha, and although knowing nothing about him beyond reputation, you felt at ease with him.

"i am kagaya. i trust your journey went smoothly? thank you for your patience, maiden. i apologize for not going to your temple in person, i hope your priest will forgive me. believe me, i wanted to, but i'm afraid my illness would not have allowed me to make the trip."

the boy's voice was unlike any other you had ever heard, fluid and gentle, causing a wave of reassurance to wash over you. you felt at ease immediately, as though something had just taken every burden off your shoulders and instead shrouded you in a cloud of repose.

"it was no trouble, oyakata-sama, truly." you followed this with a deep incline of your head, your own voice remaining serene and mellow, "it is an honor to be in your presence."

kagaya smiled. "your temple is of great renown. my clan has had the pleasure of counting with your priests and maidens across the centuries. there is no need for such formalities, child."

granted, you were sure you were older than him by a few years, but the way he called you 'child' was comforting, and you were not about to question him, simply keeping quiet.

"you are to marry one of my pillars, maiden. he is an honorable man, the lord of stone, i am sure the two of you will get along. he should arrive any moment now."

you willed yourself to say something, yet you simply could not. you were not the first maiden who was given to a lord for marriage, and you certainly wouldn't be the last. still, your heart did a flip at the simple notion of ending up in a similar situation as your mother, forced to produce offspring until your husband found you undesirable.

for a moment, a cold hand wrapped around your heart in fear of what that man would do with you. however, the single thought of the young boy before you lying about the pillar's honor revolted you. he was telling the truth, and if he said the stone pillar was a good man, then you had nothing to fear.

softly, the sound of footsteps reached your ears, and you turned slightly to see a towering figure approaching, his presence both imposing and serene all at once.

the man who stood before you was unlike any you had ever seen. large beyond comparison, clad in the dark robes of a uniform and a green haori. his stature was immense, with muscles that seemed chiseled from stone. he was young, with an impassive face, yet undeniably handsome. his eyes, clouded with a milky whiteness, told you that he could not see, yet he moved with a grace that belied his blindness.

"this is himejima gyomei, the stone pillar," kagaya introduced, "he has been chosen as your betrothed, and i trust that you will find solace and strength in his presence."

gyomei walked toward you, his movements slow and deliberate, his footsteps echoing throughout the garden—

your breath hitched as he knelt before you, reaching his hand out. but instead of what you expected, he pressed his palm against your cheek, his voice reverberating like a chiming bell inside a cathedral. he caressed your cheek as one would treat an injured butterfly.

"maiden beloved," he murmured, tears spilling from his eyes, "i apologize for making you wait."

the ceremony was that same day, quick and endearing.

you were married in front of oyakata-sama, his wife, and other members of the corps as witnesses. before you knew it, the wedding concluded, and your husband guided you to your new home with you by his side.

gyomei was not acting like he had been given you as some justly won right to do with as he pleased. that set your heart at ease, greatly so, and in some way, it was like he could tell, too. he was walking slowly, allowing you to keep up with his large strides. small talk filled the empty silence of the way home as he listed all the things you would assist him with.

you were to cook for him, clean the estate daily and take care of it when he was away, write letters for him and read them when he received any, and...

huh. that was it.

getting used to your routine was easier than anticipated as weeks passed, although you would be lying to yourself if you said that gyomei's patience and demeanor weren't helping you in the slightest.

he had insisted that you sleep in a separate bedroom within the estate, taking into account that despite being your husband, he was still a complete stranger to you. the very moment you reached your new home, he made sure to explicitly tell you that he did not wish to embarrass you or cause you discomfort in any way, shape, or form.

during mornings, you would naturally wake up at the crack of dawn, your training making things much easier. you would dress yourself in the robes gyomei had gifted you for your wedding and make your way to the kitchen to start a big meal for the day. you'd wake him up then, guiding him to the kitchen to share breakfast together.

most of the time, you ate in silence, although you did not mind at all. after that, you would wash dishes, and he trained. the estate was not that big, so having to sweep the floor or dust the shelves daily did not bother you, and you instead found comfort in the repetitive routine. you would finish quite swiftly and urge gyomei inside again for tea time during noon.

you tried to entertain yourself as best as possible during the afternoons and evenings. usually, you would find yourself tending to a small garden you'd created when you arrived. your husband would sometimes join you, captivated by the sweet smell of the flowers and the sensation of the earth beneath his fingertips. you would explain what the flowers looked like and how they were meant to be taken care of, and he, in turn, basked in your every word.

gardening duty was one of the things you enjoyed most back at the temple, and since no one else was willing to get their hands dirty, you were the maiden who would regularly take care of the flowers.

you bought flower seeds during your first trip to the market in the nearby town and took the time to introduce yourself to as many people as possible. the locals were very kind to you, and as you started frequenting the shops more and more, you were always being greeted by folks who wished you and your husband the best.

as months passed, your relationship with gyomei deepened in ways you had never expected. the initial tension and clumsiness of living with a stranger began to fade, replaced by a growing sense of familiarity and comfort.

gyomei, true to his word, respected your boundaries and gave you space to adjust at your own pace. however, small gestures of care and affection started to seep into your daily life. he would often leave freshly picked flowers from your garden by your bedroom door, their vibrant colors and sweet fragrance greeting you first thing in the morning. sometimes, he would assist you with household chores, his presence making the mundane tasks feel lighter and more enjoyable.

he began to pay attention to the little things, like how you offered wounded slayers who stumbled upon the estate a fresh meal and a place to redress their wounds, or how you fed the cats mingling around your shared home every single night, even noticing that you had taken the time to name them and remember everyone.

the town's people, too, played a part in your growing closeness. they would often remark on how harmonious you and gyomei seemed together, their kind words fortifying the bind that tied you together. you started to see the way gyomei interacted with them and how much respect the people had for him—and you couldn't help but admire him more each day.

your conversations, though initially skimpy and shallow, began to flow more naturally. gyomei's deep voice would rumble through stories of his past with the children of the orphanage, his experiences as a hashira, and the lessons he had learned along the way. you, in turn, shared snippets of your life at the temple, your family, your dreams, and your fears. it was through these conversations that you realized how much you had in common despite your different backgrounds.

anyone with a pair of working eyes would see it, or, at least, anyone who had known for at least once in their lifetime what a soul-stirring connection with another human felt like. you found comfort in his presence, seeking him out like a moth to a flame, and he, in yours, only wanted you to tend to his wounds after missions, fix his haori, or wait by himself outside just so he could pray by your side.

eventually, it got to a point where the separate bedrooms became less of a necessity and more of a formality. you often found yourself falling asleep together in the living room after long conversations or shared moments of silence. whenever you did manage to part ways, you always lingered by your door, a dreamy smile encasing your lips.

you could not deny yourself anymore. you were the happiest you had been in years.

one evening, as you both sat for dinner, the familiar quiet enveloping you like a warm blanket, gyomei's voice broke through the tranquility.

"i love you."

the bunch of food you were going to bring into your mouth splattered into the bowl again with a messy splash. oh. oh my god. you whipped your head toward your husband, who stared at you with a soft expression on his face.

"you do not have to say it back if you do not feel the same, but i wanted you to know." then, gyomei went back to chewing his food as if he had not said what he had just said.

"why?"

gyomei shifted his head in your direction with a worried expression, your teary tone and doddering heartbeat doing nothing to mitigate his apprehension. he tried to reach for you, but you jerked away from him. he could tell that whatever you were feeling was not directed toward him, but still, it pained him greatly to know you were suffering.

"g-gyomei, i—"

your hands were shaking, and he reached for them to trace your skin with the pads of his thumbs. he opened his mouth, but you beat him to it as you keeled over, shoulders trembling as sobs left your mouth, your usual calmness thrown out the window.

"y-you said that you wouldn't embarrass me! there is nothing special about me. what is it about me that you could possibly love? you're always so good to me," you were throwing word vomit at this point, and the worst part was you did not even know where it was coming from, "i haven't done anything to receive your affection! i'm just doing the things i'm supposed to do..."

tears slid down his cheeks before he could stop them, and he leaned forward to pull you into his embrace. your body completely froze, an unknown emotion taking over. gyomei had never initiated contact before. most of the time, you had to be the one to grab his hand or tug his collar.

"my little maiden... you have no idea how precious you are to me," gyomei murmured, his voice impossibly gentle and firm. he held you close, his large, comforting presence grounding you as your sobs began to subside. "you see yourself through the harsh lens of your own eyes, but i see the truth of your heart with my own. your unconditional kindness, your strength, your sincerity—these are just some of the reasons i love you."

his words seeped into your cold heart, slowly quieting the tempest inside. you couldn't understand how someone as incredible, kind, and powerful as gyomei could see such worth in you, but the sincerity in his voice and the warmth of his embrace made you want to believe him.

"you don't have to prove your worth to me or anyone," he continued, his voice alleviating your wounded spirit. "you are enough, just as you are. your presence in my life is a blessing, and i am grateful for you every single day."

"gyomei," you whispered, your voice trembling but no longer with fear. "i… i love you too. i was just scared. scared that i wasn't enough for you."

he smiled softly, wiping away your tears with his thumbs. "you are more than enough, my love. and i will spend the rest of all my lifetimes showing you just how much you mean to me."

© midnightbears on tumblr, july 2024. please do not repost to another platform, plagiarize, translate, use for AI-related purposes or claim as your own.

[wosoluver]

I have a request for Lena Oberdorf x Bayern Reader.

On the topic of her transfer to Bayern. This request is full on fluff with maybe a little angst of them being apart.

Reunited

Can we please get one about Obi loving domestic life with Reader when they see each other (cooking together, cuddling while watching movies & even versing each other at video games). But misses it dearly when the two have to be apart for months on end due to their commitments with their respective clubs. Sure the two see each other during the national break but that’s not enough. So Obi decides to transfer to Bayern to be with Reader 24/7.

Reunited.

Lena Oberdorf x reader

Lena Oberdorf Masterlist

──✩₊⁺⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧──

"Finally reunited!" you said as you put your seatbelt on.

"Only for a little bit though." she said turning on the engine, to drive to her apartment from picking you up at the airport.

"Don't say that, we have a couple of days." you grabbed the hand she had in your thigh, intertwining your fingers and kissing the back of it.

"Sorry schatz. I swear, I'm very excited to spend time together."

You were a Bayern Munich player, and your girlfriend, well, she was one of your best rivals. She played for Wolfsburg.

You can say it took a lot of concessions, to make the relationship work.

"Okay love, I'm going to shower. Can you order dinner for us?"

"Yeah. Movie night or game night?"

"Game night!" you said disappearing into the bedroom's in suite.

──✩₊⁺⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧──

"How does it feel to lose for the third time in a row?" she asked as you pouted your lips.

"You cheated this last round!"

"Well, all is fair in love and war." she tried to reason.

"And which one was it? Love or war?" she had distracted you, by removing her sweatshirt, staying in only a pair of shorts and a sports bra.

It would've been fine if she did it because she was hot. But she did it exactly to distract you. Flexing her muscles at any chance she got.

"Both. I wanted to win the game and I love to see you drooling." she said teasing you.

"I didn't drool!"

"You so did." she said pulling you to sit on her lap.

"Fine. How could I not? I'm dating the embodiment of a goddess."

That would have been enough, if she wasn't already turned on by you naturally.

"I think it's time we go to bed." she said with a naughty look on her face.

──✩₊⁺⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧──

"Good Morning my love." she said kissing your temple. You opened your eyes, taking in Lena's sleepy and puffy face, as a ray of light came through the window.

"Good morning liebling. Slept well?"

"The best I have, since the last time we slept in the same bed." she would always bring up the fact you guys were separated by over 400 kilometers, constantly.

"In a couple of years, this will be our lives everyday." you reassured her, the best you could every time.

"I'll die of happiness when that happens."

This woman made your heart feel like it was about to explode.

"How about we cook some breakfast? I can make your favorite."

"Yes! I've been craving it." giving you a kiss before getting up. "Let's go."

"I've never seen you get up so fast in my life." as you followed her to get cleaned up.

"I don't know how you make this taste so good. Usually healthy versions of things taste like cardboard." as you prepared the pancake batter.

"We can't really break our diets, so. Also it's just a good recipe."

"Don't play it on the recipe. It's all you. Take a complement please."

"Thank you, schatz. How about we make a smoothie to complement it?"

"I'll start cutting the fruits." but before she could turn, you grabbed her attention.

"Hey..." you said dabbing a finger in the liquid and tapping it on her nose.

"Oh, it's on." letting out a mischievous grin.

──✩₊⁺⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧──

You had the day all to yourselves. Not wanting to waste your time with anyone that wasn't each other, you decided upon watching movies. Only movies ever allowed to play by your girlfriend, was Disney movies. Not that you would ever complain. And you had chose the first one. Tangled.

Cuddling up to her. She was almost always the big spoon, only setting for other option when she felt extremely needy. So you laid on your back, as she placed her head on your chest, cuddling to your side the best she could, since you were a bit smaller than her.

You spent your time focusing partially on the movie and partially in gently combing her hair through you fingers and massaging her scalp.

"They are just like us. I'm obviously Flynn, good looking, funny, has a hot girlfriend."

"And I look nothing like Rapunzel."

"No, but you would probably defend yourself with a frying pan, if someone broke into the apartment."

She never failed at making you laugh. You loved that about her.

Every time you spent more time around eachother, she was more and more sure, of wanting to marry you. Of taking the decision to ask for a transfer.

She hadn't brought up yet. She was waiting till it felt like it was the right moment.

While you held each other under the blankets, you noticed she wasn't paying attention at all. So you brought up what you thought was bothering her.

"Aren't you supposed to be looking for a new apartment? I thought your lease was ending this summer."

"I've looked at some but, not one of them felt right." she mustered all her courage for her next words. It was now or now.

"It will only feel like a home, if I have you with me."

"What do you mean?"

"What if I moved to Munich?"

"That would be amazing! Are you planning to leave Wolfsburg next year?"

"Actually, I'm asking for a transfer over the summer."

"Are you messing with me?"

"I'm serious. All is fair in love and war, I want to move into a more competitive club and I want to be with you, close to you, not having to take a plane just to kiss you."

"You are?" You instantly jumped up on the bed.

"Yes." she said laughing as you jumped on the bed.

You landed on top of her. Pulling her into a hug.

"Love, I can't breathe properly." she said under you.

"Sorry, right, you have to be alive for that to happen." she pulled you back to her.

"I love you." she left a kiss on your forehead.

"And I love you." you said placing a kiss on her lips.

──✩₊⁺⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧──

Hope you like it! Thanks for sending this in 🩷

[0oolookitsme]

But Baby, It's Cold Outside

Type - One-Shoty Blurb!

Verse - Singer!Harry x Ceo!Y/n

Word Count - 1.2k

Warnings - None, just some tooth rotting fluff ;)

A/N - Y/n blushes so hard in this one I was legit smiling while writing the ending lmao. Hope you guys like it just as much! <3

MASTERLIST | Please rb to share!

Y/n was on her knees on the carpeted floor, her hands stacking things up on the Christmas mantel that she had been set on decorating since she'd opened her eyes this morning. Her knees hurt because of the hardwood floor, but it was better than having to bend down while standing up, nevertheless.

They were surprisingly late to decorate for Christmas this year because of their prolonged stay over at Anne's for a while. After all, Anne wanted the see her daughter-in-law who was pregnant with her grandson or granddaughter -- and Y/n was starting to feel more and more deprived of a mother's love by each day, making Harry take her to Anne.

She had put Harry to work currently with fluffing up the Christmas tree's leaves, and to decorate it with the string lights they'd bought just the day before. He was crouching just about beside her, facing her with the tall tree standing between them.

"I swear, this tree has got me working the hardest I ever have," Harry joked, wiping the sheen layer of sweat on his face. He chuckled when Y/n shook her head, laughing at him and not at his joke -- but he didn't need to know that. "So dramatic," he heard her murmur under her breath, knowing that she meant for him to hear it.

"I'm the one who's dramatic?" He questioned her with a touch of accusation to it. "You're the one who's been up my arse this whole month with 'let's do this, let's do that'!" Mimicking her, Harry smacked his hand on the tree and hissed in pain when a thorn pricked his finger.

A smirk appeared on Y/n's face as she continued to mess with the order of stuff she'd stacked up on the mantel. Shrugging, she said, "that's what you get for teasing me."

Herry scoffed instead of saying anything and went back to fluffing up the tallest bit of the tree. His armpits were moist with his sweat but he wouldn't even dare to think about putting out the crackling-fire in the fireplace. He might be a naturally warm body, but Y/n definitely wasn't.

Whether it was summer, or winter -- her body was never found to be hot. Hell, even when she took off her fuzzy socks last night her feet were freezing cold. And, with the baby growing in her body, Harry wouldn't even let Y/n remove the thin blanket he had wrapped around her frame when he woke up at the first ray of sunshine and realized that it had started snowing.

"H? Will you please bring me those mini-Christmas trees?" Y/n asked him, turning to give him some puppy-eyes but caught him watching the snowflakes on the windowpane instead. Tilting her head and joining him in looking outside, her lips stretched in a smile.

The snow fell soundlessly, drifting down like white and fluffy cold crystals. It brought an essence of magic in the world, falling softly into blankets that cover the landscape. 

"...'course," she heard him mumble, and turned just in time to catch the smile he passed her with a glint in his eyes that she'd come to recognize as admiration. Though she wasn't sure if what he was admiring then was the snow, her, or the 7-month baby bump.

In the time that Harry went to pick up the set of trees from the kitchen island, Y/n dropped the blanket from her shoulders, feeling too hot suddenly. The room had grown too warm for her current liking, and as she sat down cross-legged on the floor to give her knees some rest, she wished for Harry to be back by her side.

She slipped back on her bottom until her aching back hit the leg of the sofa and rested there. Patting the spot next to her, she invited Harry to sit beside her and whined internally when he passed her a knowing look and brought back the blanket with him. "Open the window if you're going to make me wear that blanket again," she told him pointedly, passing him a smile to tell him she didn't mean that behaviour seriously.

"But baby," Harry looked at her with a desperate look on his face. "It's cold outside!" he told her, wanting to open the window himself but he simply denied to because he couldn't have Y/n catch a cold. He sat down, spreading his legs and crossing them at the ankles.

He draped the blanket over both of their legs, making sure her bump is also covered. Leaning in, he pressed his lips on her pouted ones, smiling in the midst when she wouldn't back away.

Y/n reached for one of the kid's books that she'd been reading to learn some stories she could tell her little bundle of love when they were old enough to whine to her for just one more story. With some trouble, she caught the book on the sofa behind her and opened it, keeping it tilted just in case Harry wanted to join her.

But Harry was rather busy idly playing with her free hand, and as she continued to read, she felt him raise her hand up and press a kiss into her palm. Her cheeks, that were already rosy because of the cold, had now turned a shade of raging red and Harry couldn't help but cackle at that.

Y/n slapped his arm, an embarrassed smile dressed on her lips. "Stop it," she hissed, unable from removing the bashful smile on her mouth when Harry kisses the back of her hand the other time around. She turned her face away so that he couldn't see the cherry-red tint on her face, her mouth trembling because of the shy-giggle she was working hard to keep in.

Harry loved seeing the smallest gestures affect her in ways that she couldn't even control. Sputters of laughter kept falling from his mouth and when she didn't turn to face him after some while, he couldn't help but grab her chin and make her look at him.

Although she had shut her eyes tightly, the apple of her cheeks still suffused with a shade of pink that he decided was his favourite from now on. "C'mon!" He laughed when she wouldn't open her eyes.

He had only started getting such exquisite reactions out of her since he put a baby in her, and God, he would put another one in there if she would keep making him lose his mind like this.

Suddenly, a yelp flew out of his mouth, and he flinched away when she pressed her icy foot flat on his calf.

"Oh my god," he laughed with a surprised expression on his feet. "Baby, how the fuck are you so cold, still?" He shouted with laughter, his heart bursting with love when she started laughing profusely with her head thrown back. He, somewhere in the midst of it all, had stopped laughing, gazing at her instead.

But when Y/n didn't hear him laughing along with her, she opened her eyes only to find him looking at her as if she'd had hung stars in the room for him; and Harry swore her eyes were genuinely glittering and shimmering with something he was sure the poets would call love.

[unhinged-simp]

LOVE YOUR HC!!! Can I ask for Haku, Romeo, Sho, Subaru courting the reader? And maybe a jealous HC if you are comfortable haha (could be combined to one or separated HC)

Haku, Romeo, Sho, and Subaru Courting Reader HCs(Gender Neutral Reader)

Of course! Thank you for requesting.

Ahhh thank you!

I'll do a separate jealous HCs since I didn't really include it in this post. I wasn't as well versed in courting hcs as I was in dating hcs, so I hope you enjoy.

Spoilers for the Hotarubi chapter in Subaru's part

It happened one day, out of the blue, when Haku asked you if he could court you. 

When you agreed, Haku began.

It started with texts. You two would converse whenever you had free time.

The texts ranged from ordinary school life to the flirting that Haku did occasionally. 

Next, Haku would give you little gifts. Flowers, little keychains that reminded him of you, plushies, and many more gifts.

And finally, he planned out many dates.

Restaurant dates were the first kinds of dates you went on. Then you went on trips to amusement parks and arcades. Now you guys go on little fun dates.

Haku would make sure to set boundaries between you and him.

If you enjoy physical content, he would make sure to initiate it. If not, he'd respect it.

Haku would ask Subaru and Zenji for advice for courting.

You would meet with the other ghouls in Hotarubi very often, having tea parties and talks.

Even though he's busy most of the time, he always makes time for you.

Romeo is a bit worse with courting. He didn’t even tell you he wanted to, he just started doing it. 

When you told him that you’d go through with the courting, he didn’t really react besides a “good choice” and a smile, but inside he was ecstatic.

Romeo was not that great at flirting at first, often times more of a backhanded compliment than a real compliment. Though after some conversations with Rui, reluctantly, he managed to get the hang of it.

The gifts Romeo brought you were oftentimes things he uses and owns. 

Similar clothes, the same perfume he wears, and even similar sunglasses. He also gets you lots of flowers.

Even with his busy schedule, he managed to plan dates. 

Fancy restaurant dates were the most common, although if you expressed interest, you could convince him to go to an aquarium, amusement park, or site seeing different spots in Japan. 

Romeo is very possessive and proud. The gifts he gives you are his way of “marking you.” 

He'd only be affectionate in public if it was a way to brag about you, and the fact that you’re the one dating the great Fico. 

He would actively keep you away from Taiga and Rui, especially Taiga. 

He’s always eager to meet up with you whenever his work ends.

Sho doesn’t really know how to court properly, but that still doesn’t stop him.

After much consideration, he asks you if could court you. 

He already texted you a lot, but he ups the romance a bit. He tries to flirt with you, but it ends up failing, at least you got a smile out of it. After lots of research he starts getting the hang of it.

Sho learns your preferences to pick out perfect gifts for you. 

He gives you your favorite flowers, clothes he knows you'd like, and jewelry that you love.

Though he does buy you small things like coffee and food.

Dates with Sho are often held at your dorm with a home cooked meal made by him. He does take you on amusement park dates, arcade dates, and even cooking dates.

Sho does enjoy physical touch, and often holds your hand. Kisses and hugs are saved for private. He loves cuddling with you.

He actively keeps you away from Leo, but he doesn’t mind you being around Alan. 

You’re his encouragement, and he looks forward to whenever he gets to see you.

Subaru is a mess when it comes to courting you. When you approve of him courting, he nervously starts.

Subaru’s texts are polite and romantic. He doesn’t know how to flirt, so he often asks for advice from Haku and Zenji. 

Subaru uses his stigma to learn your preferences, which helps him not overthink presents for you. He also gets help from Haku about gifts for you.

Lots of flowers, jewelry, and little trinkets are given to you by him. He gives you a pretty decorated good luck charm that he made.

Subaru’s dates are pretty chill. He takes you to watch Kabuki, you two have little tea dates, and you take little walks through scenic places. 

Subaru doesn’t like physical touch due to his stigma, but if you do, he’ll deal with it. He does like hugging you, he just wishes his stigma doesn’t activate.

You have tea and snacks with Haku and Zenji occasionally. Subaru sometimes joins in with them when he isn’t busy. 

[yuna542]

Connected (OT8 x reader)

Part 4<-

Part 5

Pairing: Hyunjin x Reader

Genre: Smut, Fluff, Angst

Warnings: 18+, under 18 DNI!, Smut, Suggestive Themes, Swearing, Fingering, Praising

Word Count: 4.4k

Note: It get’s spicy with Hyunjin. For real, I’m on my knees for that man… Btw thank you for that amazing feedback. I didn’t thought, that this story would get so much support, since I’m new at writing in english. (English is not my first language so yea…) Hope you like this part! Get ready for some filthy smut in the next parts. (If you want to get tagged, write it in the comments)

On your first day of your new job as the personal manager of Stray Kids, you didn't expect to be standing in front of the man you made out with last night in a club. But it soon becomes clear that the Stray Kids don't just want you as their manager.

Will this passionate arrangement end your career?

As Felix's deep voice echoed in your bones, you wiped the sweat off your forehead with the back of your hand. Your breathing was heavy while you looked at your movements in the mirror. You had underestimated how complicated and exhausting the choreographies of the boys were

It wasn't the first time you had learned the choreography to one of the Stray Kids' songs. As a dancer, you had been so impressed with the performances that you had spent entire nights watching all of the Dance Practice videos, performances, and even Hyunjin's livestreams.

They were all stunning dancers with so much passion, but especially when Hyunjin danced, you couldn't take your eyes off of him.

Every move was mesmerizing and his charisma on stage drove heat through your veins every time. You didn't know how you would react the first time you would see the kids perform live.

That was exactly what had awakened the longing in you again. So sometimes you had stayed longer, when you were sure that everyone had already left, and had started to learn the choreographies yourself in the practice room or even to think up your own.

Today you also took advantage of the time, as the kids were at a shoot for a planned YouTube series. It was going to be a series of vlogs that would show the work behind the album. The very next week, the first video of it would come out. According to Changbin's last message, they were all going to have dinner together at the end of the day before heading back to the dorm.

He had asked if you wanted to come too, but you had declined with thanks. At least you had the chance to clear your head a little bit and do what you loved.

In the meantime you were already on the fifth or sixth song. At the beginning you had warmed up a little and stretched.

It didn't take long and you were fully in your element again. The movements flowed as if they were automatically engraved in your body and every muscle burned from the effort. It was liberating and the room was more than perfectly equipped with the large mirrors and the expensive music system.

Then you discovered a song in your downloads that Chan had sent you a few days ago. He had written and sung it with Hyunjin, but told you they wouldn't release it.

The first time you heard it, your jaw dropped. You heard it again, and then again. Chans and Hyunjin's voices on "Red Lights", were just sexy. The whole song had so much sex appeal that you couldn't help but imagine the two of them performing it.

It was dangerous, and you cursed Chan for planting those fantasies in your head in the first place.

But when you heard it and moved to it, it felt sensual. Your body adapted itself to the passionate mood and with every swing of your hips you became more and more absorbed in the song.

Completely caught up in your world, you stroked your body with your hands, landing on the floor with a twist, moving my upper body in a wave until you slowly came back to Chan's verse from your knees to your feet, letting your hands slide up your legs until you were standing upright again.

They were moves you had picked up from professional pole dancers in clubs, and you liked the sensuality behind them, to Hyunjin's and Chan's voices.

As Hyunjin's part began, you couldn't help but imagine how you had watched him work out a choreography yesterday.

His shirt had stuck to his body and every time he had let out a gasp or a sigh of exertion, you heart had skipped a beat. Actually, you were supposed to log his ideas and then coordinate them with the choreographer, but you had just tried not to stare too conspicuously when he put on those intense looks while he danced, his hair sticking sweatily to his forehead.

With this image in your mind, the erotic mood took over your body and you also recognized in your face this passion while dancing. It was addictive to surrender to the heat. The movements merged fluidly with each beat.

As the song slowly came to an end, you breathed heavily, brushed your hair out of your sweaty face and pulled your ponytail tighter.

Just as you were about to go to your phone to turn on a new song, you froze in mid-motion.

You blinked, hoping you were just imagining that Hyunjin was leaning against the closed door, watching you in utter silence.

You would have loved to run out screaming immediately, but he was blocking the door, looking outrageously handsome.

His long hair fell in his face and his defined arms were crossed in front of his body. He was wearing a black tank top that was cut wide at the sides, so you could see his pale skin. In addition, gray sweatpants and his rings, from which you did not dare to look up.

Your face must have resembled a tomato by now and your mouth was open in despair.

How long had he been watching you dance without you noticing?

"Hyunjin... You're here? I thought you guys were going out to eat... I didn't think anyone else would come here", you stuttered, wishing yourself far away.

His gaze wandered up and down your body without hesitation. So far he had only seen you in fancy business clothes, like blouses or skirts and now you were standing in front of him sweaty in just a sports bra and sweatpants.

"The others have left. I wanted to work out a little more and do a livestream. And I wasn't expecting that either", he explained as he made a motion in your direction with his hand.

Slowly, you nodded, and at that, your heart raced in such a way that you saw it as a welcome escape to die of a heart attack here and now.

"You heard the song", he said then, coming closer.

"Uh... Yes."

He had seen you dancing erotically to his song. The whole thing was too awkward to be true, and yet his eyes continued to roam over your body with interest.

"I didn't know you could dance like that."

Embarrassed, you wrapped your arms around your torso. You felt at the mercy of his engaging presence wearing only a red sports bra and black jogging pants that were loose at the hips because they were way too wide for you.

"I only dance as a hobby.... I'm sorry if I'm not allowed to be here. I'll let you work out in peace", you gushed as his eyes were now driving you increasingly insane. They were by now glued to the strip of skin on your hip that exposed the waistband of your red string due to the loose fit of your sweatpants. Before you could move, he grabbed you by the upper arm with one hand and held you back gently but firmly. His eyes took on a gleam that reminded you of a cat on the hunt. Immediately, the hairs on the back of your neck stood up as his fingers rested firmly on your skin.

"You can dance here whenever you want. If anyone tells you otherwise, you can say you have my explicit permission to do so."

You had to tilt your head back a little to look into the much taller man's seductive face.

"Thank you", you murmured, secretly wondering why he didn't just let you go. You desperately needed to scream all the shame, heart punding, and fluttering in your stomach into a pillow.

"How long have you been standing there?", you asked quietly, and that's when one corner of his mouth slowly lifted.

"Only since Red Lights... Unfortunately."

A question burned on your tongue and you were afraid of making a fool of yourself with it, but you were keenly interested in his opinion, since he was the one who inspired you to dance again.

"What did you think? Of my dancing?"

He shifted his weight to the other foot and didn't even try to hide his gaze. As he answered, he inspected every place where your bare skin flashed out.

"It looked strong and... hot. Very sexy."

Overwhelmed, you expelled your breath and were completely taken in by his presence. The smirk turned to a grin and he brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. His cool fingers brushed your heated skin and it began to tingle at that spot.

"We could do the livestream together, if that would be okay with you."

You were silent for a few seconds, looking at him in wonder.

"I don't know if Stay would want to watch that...", you doubted aloud and just the thought of dancing with Hyunjin gave you goosebumps all over your body.

"Stay love you. Have you seen on TikTok how many edits there already are about you? If they find out you can dance that well too, you'll probably have to become an idol too", he said with amusement.

"No thank you. I'd rather leave that to you", you laughed, looking down at yourself uncertainly.

In fact, you had already noticed that most of the fans reacted very positively to you. Since you were constantly in paparazzi pictures with the guys, and sometimes in vlogs, your face was all over TikTok. Stays even took old interviews you had done and made edits out of them.

So maybe they really liked seeing you dance with Hyunjin. You really hoped they would.

"We'll start off really chill.... I'll warm up a bit, we'll chat and if it gets too much for you, you just leave”, he began, already getting his camera and Ipad to set up in front of the mirror.

"Well, we can freestyle a little choreography. It's even more fun with someone else."

You finally nodded and he smiled with satisfaction.

He set everything up, wrote a short message on Bubble and then started the stream. It took only seconds and you already had several thousand viewers.

Hyunjin greeted the fans and explained that today you would dance together. To your surprise, the comments were full of encouragement and kind comments.

Hyunjin gave you a short look that clearly meant something like: Told you so!

Then he started warming up to a slower song. Meanwhile, you were reading comments, chatting and answering simple questions, but one kept jumping out at you.

"Are you dating Hyunjin?"

You had read the question aloud before you realized it and immediately bit your tongue. But before you could embarrass yourself any further, Hyunjin came closer, knelt behind you, and wrapped his arms around your stomach.

Resting his chin on your shoulder, he then said:

"Y/N is like family to me and the other members now. We can't be without her anymore."

He left it at that and you tried to put on a neutral expression. His hands stroked your stomach and there the touch was gone.

Of all the music requests, you finally agreed on ‘Under the Influence’ by Chris Brown, as you realised quickly that you both knew the choreography from a video from the YouTube channel 1MILLION Dance Studio. You noticed that most of the requests in the comments were very erotic songs.

As if that's what the fans wanted to see.

When you went through the Choreo in your head, you got hot and cold at the same time. It was a very intimate dance with lots of naughty but strong movements. The fact that Hyunjin actually wanted to do it live with you made you even more nervous.

Then the time came. You briefly went through the choreography again, then he started the song and you began to move.

The sequences of steps were challenging and quite fast, but it was just as much fun.

You saw Hyunjin's focused gaze in the mirror as you moved in sync, trying to control your breathing as he watched you with those hypnotising glance in his eyes.

You got to the part in the song where you stood close to each other. You put your hand to his chest and felt it rise and fall quickly. That's when he lifted your chin with two fingers and the air immediately became electrically charged. Your breath caught as his lips hovered right in front of yours for a blink.

With a knowing grin on his face, you turned away from each other again and now, strangely, you danced even more in unison.

His movements were full of energy yet fluid, pulling you along with him.

The music wrapped your bodies together and you noticed nothing else but his body, the heated atmosphere and the passion that was only fueled with each eye contact.

Finally you landed in front of him, he put an arm on your shoulder and you rolled your hips against his. He moved his with your ass before you jumped apart again. His eyes sparked as you got down a bit with your back to the camera, supported yourself on your thighs and moved your hips.

Hyunjin, meanwhile, began to change the choreography and made it his own. You let him lead you and enjoyed being so completely in tune with him, even though it was the first time you danced together.

Then he pulled you closer by the hips, which was not part of the choreo. Both hands were firmly on your sides and you leaned back against his chest.

So you let your hips circle with his and as he pulled you even closer with his hands. You felt him press your ass firmly against his bulge. You felt his breath on your neck and smelled his sweet cologne, which immediately clouded your mind.

His body pressed so tightly against yours made you skin tingle at every turn. He made the dance even more suggestive and he knew exactly what he did with each move. Your eyes met in the mirror and you were surprised by the intensity in both your faces. Sweat was on your foreheads and as the song ended, you were breathing heavily.

Your eyes locked and the tension between you was almost unbearable.

You would have loved to dance even closer with him and touch him everywhere. But then you both seemed to remember the stream. You sat down in front of the camera again and the comments went completely crazy.

"Hot!"

"That was insane!"

"You guys look incredibly sexy together!"

And many more were written. Hyunjin smiled contentedly to himself and while you took a breath, people were already asking for the next song.

Suddenly, he put his hand on your leg and closed his fingers around your inner thigh. Perplexed, you quickly stared at the stream, but your legs were not visible on the screen. This stirred up the heat in your belly again and you couldn’t think of anything else but Hyunjin's fingers firmly gripping your inner thigh and the cool metal of his rings that you felt even through your sweatpants.

His hands kept wandering up until he almost touched you where you were longing for him. The heat between your thighs got even worse, when he looked at you, like he didn't know, how cruel his teasing was. But behind that innocent expressions he exactly knew, what he did to you.

It was kind of a revenge. You had no idea how hard he already was, when he saw you dancing to his song.

Hyunjin danced a few more songs by himself and you tried not to look too excited. You worked with him and wanted to look professional, even though everything inside you was screaming to pounce on him. You sat on the sofa behind him, playing with the water bottle in your lap as you watched him.

That's when a message lit up on your phone. Hyunjin was starting Thunderous and kept giving you glances over the mirror. Reading Jisung's name, you opened the message.

"We saw the stream. Go check Twitter!"

You quickly scrolled through Twitter and the first videos started popping up. Fans had already uploaded clips of you dancing together.

You didn't dare to look at the footage, skimming over some of the comments and as you did, the heat was back in your cheeks again.

"Y/N is incredibly hot!"

"OMG. So much tension!"

"We need a dance cover of these two!"

"I can't decide which of the two I'd rather be."

"They're like dancing pornstars."

And tons more messages poured in on your timeline. Pictures showed Hyunjin and you pressed closely together, giving each other almost pornographic looks.

Completely lost in thought, you continued to watch him.

Every muscle of his limbs strained against invisible restraints, as soon as the music changed the tempo. The room was by now dimly lit by the lights on the ceiling, as it must already be the middle of the night. They cast a soft shadow of his long, elegant figure on the floor and you bit your lower lip to think clearly again.

The gentle yet sensual movements of his body captivated you. Your eyes fixed on every movement he made as he lost himself in the music until it finally ended.

It wasn't until he gave you a long look over the mirror that snapped you back into reality. A knowing grin was on his lips as you quickly looked at your phone.

He continued to chat for a while with the fans.

You kept reading the comments until you heard Hyunjin saying goodbye to the fans. You waved from the background and that's when you disappeared from the screen.

Hyunjin's breath went rattling and he grabbed a bottle of water, drinking it completely while standing.

"You were amazing!", he then said when his breathing returned back to normal. Distracted by your phone, you slowly stood up and smiled excitedly at him.

That's when he also glanced at his phone and raised his eyebrows.

"That was quick", he muttered, tossing the empty plastic bottle onto the sofa.

"I knew the fans would go crazy for you!", he said after a few minutes of silently scrolling through his messages. When he lifted his eyes, he caught you staring at him and began to grin.

"I wouldn't mind if we did this more often", he added, tossing his phone onto the sofa as well.

"Yeah, that was fun", you replied, and as soon as he took a longer look at you again, the dangerous glint entered his eyes. The tension between you returned in a flash and to dispel the muddled thoughts, you quickly turned to the mirror and stared at your phone.

"Strange... You weren't so shy when you were dancing", he said aloud and you heard his footsteps getting closer. His voice became a shade deeper and you held your breath as you felt his chest brush against your back.

"You know, I can hardly concentrate when you look at me like that when I dance..."

Being alone with him was so much more exhilarating and, more importantly, dangerous, than you could have imagined.

Your breath caught as you felt his fingers on the back of your neck. Like fine brush strokes, he trailed down your spine, and along the way took your phone from you with his other hand and tossed it carelessly to the floor.

Then his fingers were firmly on your hip, pushed the waistband of your string down a bit and gripped your skin tightly. Immediately a gasp escaped you and with a glance in the mirror you saw his soft grin.

"You have no reason to be this shy around me, Princess.”

The firm passion in his grip made you breathe a startled sigh and almost automatically, you grinded your ass against him. With one hand, he held your hip firmly pressed against his so that you could feel his length, which by now was getting harder and harder.

You could even feel its enormous size through the fabric.

The other hand slowly closed around your neck and pushed your head to the side as he began to spread wet kisses on your neck.

Your head was so foggy now that you were unconscious to anything but the heat growing between your legs, and you whimpered softly as he sank his teeth into your soft skin at the crook of your neck. He sucked, licked and bit into the sensitive spots, making you squeeze your thighs together to make the tension a little more bearable.

Your eyelids fluttered as he continued to rub his hard length against your ass, and as he did you felt his breathing become more raspy.

The hand on your neck closed tighter around it and you tried to listen to your mind, but you were already overcome by his charms.

"Your skin tastes even sweeter than I thought", he breathed close to your ear and he slid the strap of your sports bra off your shoulder to continue working your skin with his seductive plush lips.

"Jinnie...", you gasped, overwhelmed, as he pinched your side with one hand before sliding his fingers under the waistband of your panties.

That's when he finally let go of your neck for a second and looked over the mirror into your face. He looked outrageously sexy as he tilted his head slightly and looked at you questioningly.

"What are you doing?", you asked, swallowing hard. You could already see the red bruises he had sucked into your pale skin.

"Ever since I caught you here, dancing to my song, like a fucking stripper, sweaty and in those clothes... I've had to restrain myself from ripping them right off."

The pressure of his hand around your throat tightened, and immediately heat shot to each of your limbs.

"I can't, Hyunjin", you whispered desperately, clinging to his arm that was around your neck. He wasn't going to let you go.

"Why would you think that, princess?"

"I'm your manager. If anyone finds out..."

"So you don't like it?" he asked with a challenging tone.

"I...", that's all you dared to say.

"So you're not as turned on as I am right now?", he murmured in your ear and you forced yourself to shake your head. Even though you couldn't think of something else than his bare skin on yours. You wanted him so bad that it already hurts.

Immediately his full lips twisted into an amused smile.

"Are you sure about this?"

You fingers were still digging firmly into his arm, when he released his hand at your hip and slid it down your pants. He licked his lips as he first gently stroked his fingers over your core and then pressed two fingers firmly against the completely soaked fabric of your thong.

Your knees went weak and you rolled your hips against his with a gasp.

"You're already that wet for me, princess? That's really naughty... Should we do something about that?"

His sweet words continued to twist your mind and as he began to slowly circle his fingers, you buried your face against his neck. He continued to hold your upright in front of him and murmured:

"All you have to do is say something and I'll stop."

At that moment he gave more pressure directly onto your clit. In response, something very close to a moan escaped from your lips. With his hand on your neck, he lifted your chin to make you look at him.

He enjoyed every gasp, every desperate flutter of your eyelids, and in one motion pushed your underwear aside. Before you can prepare, he sinked two of his long fingers inside you and looked proudly at your lips that are parted in shock.

Then he started pumping them inside you, hitting all the right spots immediately. If he wouldn't had pressed you tightly against him, your legs would have dropped as he slid another finger inside you.

"You look so damn beautiful, so desperate with my fingers inside you. I wonder what you'd look like with my dick pounding into your sweet little cunt..."

Your high rolled in so hard you moaned his name several times, and he only quickened the pace of his hand.

"Now I know what Chan meant... You're really hard to resist. You know that all of us want to fuck you since the day you came through that door?"

He was mesmerised by those little cries and sobs you let slip when he's toying with your aching pussy, fingers rubbing at your swollen nub and cooing at you so mockingly as you try to cover your glassy eyes from him.

That was enough to push you over the top. Overwhelmed, you came faster than you ever had in your life and Hyunjin caught your moans with a kiss, which he deepened as he pumped his fingers inside you a few more times. You quickly reached for his face and returned the kiss desperately like you would drown otherwise.

His tongue stroked your lower lip and immediately he pushed it into your mouth. The kiss was messy and dirty, but he had just made you come so hard with just his fingers that your head was completely blank.

When you finally broke away from each other, breathing heavily, he slipped his hand out of your panties, pushed his fingers into his mouth and licked them clean.

"You even taste intoxicating", he said, now gently stroking your hair out of your face.

"You look tired. I'll have a cab come for you."

As if nothing had ever happened, he went over to his phone and contacted a cab for you. Gradually, your sanity returned and you just couldn't believe what had just happened.

Only a short time later, you were sitting in the cab trying to sort out your thoughts.

Hyunjin had given you one last intense kiss before you could leave and you didn't understand anything anymore. His lips on yours felt electrifying and your skin didn’t stop tingling.

First of all the situation with Chan and then this....

Your life could hardly get any crazier.

-> Part 6

——————————————————————-

© Yuna542 — 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝.

Taglist (open):

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[finelinevogue]

just an idea, but what about the fact that harry has fine line on the setlist… 👀

just remember it’s all your decision and what your up for writing

Xx

fine line kisses

you made me cry writing this cause i had fine line playing in the background too🥹

word count: +1.5k

pairing: boyfriend!harry x reader

You were stood to the side of the stage when it happened.

Harry was on stage and about to finish his last song before the encore and you were ready to greet him with a loving kiss for all his hard work so far.

Just as you watched him finish up Watermelon Sugar, he walks to the side of the stage opposite to you and you wonder whether he's forgotten which side of the stage to come off from. However when you see him pick up his galaxy and cat painted guitar you begin to wonder what he is up to.

Harry walks over to the microphone as the crowd softens their deafening cheers to see what he has to say next.

"How are we doing Denmark?" He asks again, always checking in on his fans to make sure they're all still alright.

The crowd screams and settles down as Harry strums one random chord on his guitar, probably to check that it is working.

"This next song wasn't planned until about an hour ago. It's one that means a lot to me and I am aware it means a lot to all of you too." He pauses to let the screams deafen the stadium, as people begin to guess what song is going to be played next. "Tonight, though, I am playing this song for my girlfriend. This is Fine Line."

The familiar strum of chords sounds through the stadium and you have to keep yourself from letting your legs collapse beneath you.

Your eyes water at the mere first few strums of the guitar and your gaze doesn't falter from your boyfriend on stage.

This was not real.

It was hard to comprehend that he was finally playing Fine Line at a show that you were in attendance of. You always go on about it being his best song and how it means so much to you, but you never thought he would so openly declare that.

The fans would thank you later.

Throughout the whole song you sway your body gently and cup your hands together over your mouth. The tears don't stop falling as you quietly sing along with him. In a stadium full of thousands it just feels like you and him in this moment.

The crowd looks beautiful with their flashlights on and the lights in the stadium are dimmed to pink. The ambience is unforgettable.

Harry's vocals are something magical to behold too. He has never pushed himself to sing notes he finds difficult, just in case his voice breaks or gets hurts, but tonight he pushes all those boundaries. He sings in a higher key for the second verse and the crowd cheer because of it. You nod your head silently as you watch him present the best performance of his career.

With the horns too, the music is something else.

By the end of the song where it is just the instrumental you are fully crying and your body is shaking as you sob. The makeup that you had put on is no, no doubt, smudged all over your face.

"Thank you. Thank you so much." Harry repeats as he holds his hand of his heart and air-kisses all of his fans.

And before you know it, he is running off backstage to the wing that you're stood in.

You walk backwards as he runs towards you and the rest of his team. They all clap and cheer for him, just as the audience is. He only had three minutes before he has to go back onstage for the encore.

When he catches sight of you he can't help but frown. He walks over to you with his arms open wide. You, however, walk back away from him.

"No. Don't even..." You shake your head, still crying.

If he touches you now, you may never stop crying because of how much love you have for him. It'll all come to fruition with one hug.

"Baby, don't be silly. You need a hug." He chuckles as you still won't let him near you.

"No. You have ruined me. Look at me!" Your tone of voice shows Harry that you are only joking, but he still wants to be near you just in case a small part of you is genuinely sad.

"You look beautiful."

"I am a mess, no thanks to you." You let out a strained groan as you try to compose yourself.

"Was my performance that bad?" He teases, standing in front of you but no longer trying to touch you. He didn't want to overwhelm you.

"Fuck off." You give him a sarcastic glare. "You know it was good. Better than good, actually. And I'm... fuck... I'm really p-proud of you a-and I love you." You begin to cry again.

"Y/N, baby..." He says quietly.

"Ugh you're so annoying. Why am I crying?" You laugh in joke.

Harry laughs too, dimples out from smiling so hard. He never thought that his music could impact someone this much, but it makes him feel alive to see someone react so emotionally to his music.

"You're allowed to cry, babe, it's fine. You're alright."

"Don't even go saying things like that right now. It's too soon." You point a glare at him as you breathe to cool down.

"Okay, take some deep breathes with me. In, one, two, three and out, one, two three.." Harry repeats with you, stepping a little closer to you each time.

By the seventh count he has managed to wrap his arms around you, one around your waist to pull you infinitely close, and the other to cup around your head protectively as you rest it on his chest. You've stopped crying and he can tell your sadness is dissipating with every second he holds you.

"I love you so much." He says against your head, kissing the crown of your head a couple of times. He feels your arms squeeze around his waist in response.

"I love you too." Your response is muffled, since you're buried so deep into the softness of his chest.

"Sorry I made you cry." He laughs and you feel his chest moving from his laughter.

“Sorry I’m a blubbering mess.”

"It's okay. You can cry as much as you want, because I'll always be here to give you a hug."

"You'll set me off again if you're not careful." You warn him, before he says anything more smushy.

He laughs a giggle that makes you happy to hear, "Sorry."

"H! Thirty seconds!" Someone shouts to him.

You pull away from him. Harry reaches up to your eyes to wipe underneath any mascara debris. He smiles as he does so, making you smile in return.

"Beautiful." He reminds you.

"I love you." You remind him.

"I love you too." He smiles, "And stay right here, okay? I want to run straight off this stage, after, and proper kiss you. Don't leave me."

"You'll get your post-concert kiss, H." You nod knowingly, because he never misses it.

"It's all I'll be thinking about."

You blow him an air kiss in anticipation of the real one, which he catches and pretends to pocket until he can really get to kiss you.

[hotchfiles]

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ❝ too busy being yours ❞ ─ a we could be love blurb

pairing: aaron hotchner x bau!rossi!reader. summary: you're pretty much in love with your boss. and he's pretty into you too. but if being your boss wasn't bad enough, he's also your dad's best friend. content warnings: valentine's fluff! no romance involved tho. just friends being friends and sleeping into each other's embrace. as friends do. might not be totally inclusive to full italian girls (?). two idiots in love making rossi seem worse than he is. word count: 2k+. a/n: the bau!rossi!verse begins. i never proof read anything.

      Being single during Valentine's Day was already bad, hearing your own father's romantic plans for the evening only made it worse. The humiliating truth of not having the same game as David Rossi was daunting, but you didn't have the Italian vibes to use in your favor like he did, and you were pathetically in love with your boss and that made every single man look awful in comparison.

      "What about you Baby Rossi, any saucy plans for tonight?" Your eyes shoot daggers at Derek for making the question, bringing everyone's attention to your warm cheeks.

      "Apparently I have to look for a ride home, saucy enough?" Your father shrugs with an apologetic glance at your answer, he usually took you home but wouldn't have the time to today. That's what you get for carpooling.

      Between dates and the bar, you were getting out of options and was about to accept your fate: You would have to take the subway. You weren't sure how Spencer did it so often, specially with his particularity with germs and people, you absolutely hated it, it was too tiring, too loud.

      You run up the stairs to get to Hotch's office, handing him your reports, slightly out of breath.

      "You were quick with these." It's a praise with a hidden quip: You were always the last one to hand yours, not only a natural procrastinator, but you were the last one to join the unit, you still struggled with some of the bureaucracy.

      "Trying to avoid rush hour, taking the subway today."

      "I can take you home–" He seems surprised by his own response, or by how quick he offered that ride. Your address is somewhere on your files but he doesn't truly know where you live. He couldn't even shrug it off saying it was on his way home.

      "Don't you have a date? I mean–Wouldn't this make you late for anything?" You hope dearly that you didn't make it obvious that you just wanted to know if he was seeing someone. It's obviously too much to hope for, he knows.

      And he smiles sweetly, softly. He tries his best to keep it innocent. "No plans today, just me, my bed... And some popcorn i think."

      You chew on the inside of your cheeks softly thinking about your next move. Hotchner had slipped through conversation earlier that Jack had a sleepover planned, so by that logic, he would be alone, just like you. 

      He wasn’t exactly subtle about his interest in you, but he somewhat tried to conceal it, asking him out on a date seemed too pushy. 

      “Those are exactly my plans… You could maybe stay over for a bit, then? Maybe?” Your eyes glow with the expectation as you ask him, fingers busy with your necklace to soothe yourself. “We might have to pick Garcia up at some point of the night, though, if that’s okay.” You were always tasked with drunk Penelope anytime you bailed on them as a punishment. 

      You didn’t mind, drunk Garcia was fun Garcia, but if Aaron accepted your invitation, you hoped there wouldn’t be any interruptions. 

      Movies and popcorn are innocent enough, that’s the first thing on his mind, it can be innocent, and even when he tries to talk himself down of what could lead to very bad bad choices, your mention of Garcia tips him over the edge. It was just friends hanging out. Definitely. 

      “Yeah… I mean, yeah sure, that sounds fun. I have to keep myself awake until later than usual in case Jack calls me anyway.” You nod more to yourself and offer him a shy smile, just before he hands you more papers. “Oh yeah–You’ve got yourself a few more work hours, though.”

      The ride to your place is anything but silent. Your phone keeps buzzing, signaling the BAU gals group chat wants details of what’s happening but you and Aaron barely notice it as conversation flows easily between you two.

      You ask him about Jack’s sleepover and the sleeping later ordeal and he tells you how on his first sleepover Jack gave up and called him to pick him up at almost 1am. “When the fun was over he just wanted his bed. Driving the moment I woke was a terrible experience.” 

      That was years ago and he still waits for that clock to hit 1AM before sleeping. Just in case his baby needs him.

      You can feel your insides turn into mush, the way he cares always from the smallest to the biggest ways reminding you of why falling for him was so desperately easy. “That’s incredibly sweet of you, Aaron.”  

      The informality catches him off guard, but he welcomes it, loving the way his name sounds leaving your lips. “He’s a sweet kid, much more cooperative than drunk Garcia, I can assure you.” 

      You laugh at his joke and it’s silent for mere seconds before he finally asks the question, the one question on his mind since you walked into his office earlier. Why? Why don’t you have a date? Why aren’t you at the bar? How can you even be single?

      “I don’t have a lot of free time, Aaron. I’m… Busy.” You both know that’s not a lie. But you could try to make time if you were interested, you could’ve gone out today. Unfortunately, when you found yourself having feelings for someone, you couldn’t bring yourself to look for someone else. All the other men seemed so incredibly dull compared to the one taking you home, and you couldn’t but compare when you were with any other. 

      “You had free time tonight.” He’s pushing it and he knows it. He shouldn’t be asking so many questions about your dating life, he shouldn’t pry when he knew himself well enough to be certain he wouldn’t make any moves on you. Younger, beautiful, funny, smart… And the daughter of his closest friend. All the reasons he was so smitten were also the reasons he told himself he shouldn’t lead you on. 

      You deserved someone your age, with no baggage, or at least one lighter than his. Someone with more time to spare, who could take your mind out of the job and not keep you on it. And definitely someone who didn’t go to jazz clubs with your father. 

      Still, his hands are firm on the wheel, turning left to get to your home. 

      “I’m not wasting my free time on guys I meet at bars on Valentine’s Day.” He smirks, finding a good spot to park his car without saying anything else. He’s delighted by your answers even though it isn’t fair.

      He gets ready to leave the car but you stop him, tapping his thigh lightly (it sends shivers up his spine but he’s getting good at pretending not to feel it). “Better get your go bag.” You see confusion on his eyes and that known furrowed brow directed at you. “You’re not gonna be comfortable in a suit. You can change to your spare.”

      He hadn’t thought about that, it would definitely defy the purpose of a quiet relaxing movie night if he was all dressed up in his well known work attire. So he does as instructed and gets his go bag from the backseat, even though he’s getting more and more anxious by the second. The innocent friends movie night he made himself believe looking more and more like he was sleeping over. 

      You give him the tour of your apartment–a gift from your dad when you graduated from the academy, not that anyone really needed to know how spoiled you were–and show him the bathroom where he could change. Or shower. He has his go bag after all. 

      You go to your room to do just that, trying not to let the thoughts of him possibly being naked and under your shower flood your mind as you take the quickest shower you’ve ever taken in your life. 

      As you move from your own bathroom to your closet to get your pajamas you’re suddenly very aware of what’s really happening. You really did invite him to your apartment. This was a date. But it couldn’t be a date, did he see it as a date? Being so very infatuated by him and knowing well he had some sort of interest in you was very very different than acting on it. Your dad would kill you if he knew. And Aaron. And you again, possibly, if he knew it was your doing to initiate it. 

      Instead of your usual thin fabric short shorts and tank top you wear to sleep, you decide to be decent, black silk loose pants, old university t-shirt, cotton robe, socks and fluffy slippers. Anything that could maybe show you are totally just thinking about watching some fun movies with a friend. 

      You take two blankets and two pillows with you as you leave your bedroom, the sound of the shower being turned off making your feet almost run to get everything ready. The couch turning into a bed with a bit of struggle to unfold it. You made sure each blanket and pillow were on each side of it, as far as possible from each other. 

      Popcorn! You need to make popcorn, that’s the first thing you think when you hear the door unlocking, going straight for the kitchen and putting a bag on your microwave. As it popped you got cheese strings and butter out of your fridge. If you couldn’t blow his mind in better ways, you could at least get him hooked to your special cheesy buttered popcorn. 

      “I’m making myself way too comfortable, I think.” His voice is smooth and relaxed and when you look back he’s leaning into the frame, his hair is wet and he’s wearing matching black sweatpants and a hoodie you’ve never seen him wear. 

      For a moment you just want to kiss him and forget about any debate morality could bring to ruin it, but instead you laugh and take the popcorn out of the microwave and drop its content into a bowl, spreading some butter on top and dropping a few strings of cheese on it before putting the bowl on the microwave. 

      “Casa mia è casa tua.” Your Italian is a bit rusty but it still works as a charmer, “Go pick us the most terrible looking romcom you can find while I finish this.”

      “Romcom, huh?” He asks and you can just hear the teasing in his tone. 

      “You didn’t think we were going for some documentary, right?” You use a spoon to mix the popcorn to the melted butter and cheese when it’s out of the microwave, and follow him to the living room, “We’re gonna eat this cheesy, buttered, absolutely heart-swelling popcorn and make fun of some terrible, terrible movie love tropes.”

      You do just that, and it’s awkward at first, the both of you wanting to be closer but also not feeling like you should cross that barrier, but as the night went on, the more you shared that popcorn, the more laughs you shared, the closer you got on that couch, specially after he tried to rub his greased fingers on your face, making you do the same to him. 

      One movie becomes two, and then three, and somewhere in between him telling you about the dates he would take Haley as a teen, making you laugh at how sweet and romantic he always was, and you telling him about your first kiss and how terrible it was, you both fall asleep. Your head on his chest, his arms around you. 

      Jack doesn’t call, and if Emily tried to get you to pick up Garcia you definitely didn’t see it. 

      It’s the first time you both share such an intimate moment, and it is just that. Sleeping in each other’s arms. Aaron even wakes up in the middle of the night, 3AM striking on the clock on your wall. He wasn’t even able to freak out and overthink anything about it, the comfort of your smell making him hug you tighter and close his eyes again. 

      He could deal with it in the morning.