#i will probably try to see poets of the fall on their next tour

[hawkeyedflame]

she can't be real

[catchingbigfish]

writeblr re-introduction | catchingbigfish

hi! call me elle (they/she). i'm in my 30s, work adjacent to the legal field in my day job, and i'm studying for my MA in english! i post more about my life over at my main, @prettytothink-so, which is also the account i follow from!

i'm a david lynch obsessive, hence the url/pfp, but i love death bed: the bed that eats as much as i do blue velvet. my primary literary influences are shirley jackson, carmen maria machado, janet fitch, confessional poets, and more recently, a healthy dose of knausgaard.

i write prose & poetry with a heavy emphasis on the body, the darker sides of life, and relationships. my fiction is character-centric, driven by ensemble casts of weird and fucked up people, and characters tend to go through exquisite and grotesque things like body horror, warped and broken time, hauntings, posessions, and sex. my work is definitely 18+ and i try not to engage with minors.

i'd love to get to know other writers, esp if you write/read any of the following:

dysfunctional relationships (particularly with ensemble casts and found or of-origin families)

horror and gothic literature

body horror, nightmares, and dream logic

romance, including sex, and relationships, esp. in horror themes

i like to say i'm always open to ask + tag games, but i'm most likely to respond to an ask game than a tag! if you wanna know more about my wips, see below the cut:

click the titles for the wip intros!

conversion

status: w/ beta readers short synopsis: Rosalyn arrives to the U for her MFA in fashion-making and falls into a group of sick women artists bonded by a disputed diagnosis. She starts faking it to fit in, finds the friendships she'd always wanted, and ends up with a choice between the unthinkable and her new ride-or-die crew.

dark academia/litfic/cult novel. this project has had me in a chokehold for 18+ months and it's the most fun i've ever had writing something. stay tuned for my query journey, coming to you probably near the end of this year!

might've been, never was

status: drafting (~10%) short synopsis: Lily and her friends thought their thirties would be different. They find a way to adopt new bodies, but one of them takes it too far, and the rest have to decide whether to stop her or join in.

a satire in the same vein as conversion. currently vying with the next two WIPs for main focus while betas work through conversion. project playlist is 2 songs: teen idle and celebrity skin. the closest i'll ever come to autofiction because the idea to write "a love letter to being mentally ill in your 30s" came up when i was a teensy bit manic.

seed of the woman

status: drafting (~33%) short synopsis: A woman goes on a Christian yoga retreat hoping to return to some sense of her self. Instead, she's bitten by a snake and goes on a tour through the choices that led her here.

body horror/religious horror novella. probably actually my primary focus. nightmare/dream-logic story that's my latest attempt to write something explaining how rational and reasonable a choice it would be for a woman to choose satan over god.

the awakening re-telling

status: drafting short synopsis: The Awakening by Kate Chopin, but set it in the modern Quiverfull movement/fundamentalist Christianity circles.

i've called this the awakening x duggars but it's not really about them; i'm just obsessed with the religious theme lately

so it goes

status: hiatus, midway through second draft short synopsis: A multigenerational saga about women who see Death.

my trunk novel/magnum opus. will probably never finish. about sex, death, what we fill the void with when we let go of religion, the violence of inherited trauma, and the bridge between two states of being

[tsumtsumland]

𝕎𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕖 ℍ𝕒𝕚𝕜𝕪𝕦𝕦 𝕓𝕠𝕪𝕤 𝕨𝕠𝕦𝕝𝕕 𝕥𝕒𝕜𝕖 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕠𝕟 𝕪𝕠𝕦𝕣 ℍ𝕠𝕟𝕖𝕪𝕞𝕠𝕠𝕟.

ft. Miya Atsumu, Miya Osamu, Kuroo Tetsurou, Oikawa Tooru, Ojiro Aran, Akaashi Keiji, Sakusa Kiyoomi & Suna Rintarou.

❥ Miya Atsumu - The Maldives! Sunshine boy takes you on a sunny trip, a little cliché but so worth it. Crystal clear waters, a private bungalow over the water, just you and him in your own little world? Perfection. He’s going to be all over you most of the time, and are you complaining? Absolutely not. You two do make them for other activities though, I see Atsumu as a super active person so definitely snorkeling, surfing and sailing are on the list. Then wind down with lazing around in a hammock in the middle of the ocean, couples massages at the underwater spa, candle lit dinners on the beach, chilling in the private infinity pool in your bungalow, and just fully enjoying your time with each other. Your honeymoon is the definition of fun and relaxation, and resident exhibitionist Atsumu somehow convinced you to shower naked with him in the private outdoor shower of your bungalow... you’re starting to see the appeal now ;)

❥ Miya Osamu - Taiwan. One word...FOOD. Taiwan’s got an amazing array of food that Osamu would love to try with you, from street food to fine dining. With some of the best night markets in the region (and you know Asia’s got the good night markets), you’ll be full and satiated...in more ways than one ;) Of course it’s your honeymoon so you’re gonna be staying at a hotel with a view of Taipei 101. He takes you on a day trip to Kaohsiung just to walk around Love River, and to see Lotus Pond! Then another trip to Wulai to soak in the hot springs with a view of the waterfalls. Your man goes all out to make the trip memorable and romantic, he spares no expense when it comes to making you happy.

❥ Oikawa Tooru - Cappadocia. One of the most beautiful places on earth. I always see Oikawa as a traveler, someone in search of new adventures and trying new things, he’s also someone that wants to make an impression, especially on his beloved. Capadoccia is like something out of a modern day fairytale. I’m sure you’ve all seen those hot air balloon photos, and yeah, you guys definitely do that...for the gram, and the memories <3 You both switch off for the trip and just enjoy each other, and the beauty your destination has to offer, open air museums, camel rides (he definitely falls off his camel) , atv rides, the FAIRY CHIMNEYS! He probably begs you to go on a hike with him because he’s so used to doing them in Argentina for fun, and when you give in you don’t regret it because it leads to you to one of the most beautiful sunsets with the love of your life...

❥ Ojiro Aran - The Netherlands. I know, it’s not the first place one would think of for a honeymoon but you and Aran can’t think of a lovelier place to wind down after all the stress of planning and having your wedding. Your days are filled with exploring gorgeous Amsterdam, cruising through the canals on a private boat, long walks or bike rides together through the scenic city, and eating some of the most delicious food you’ve ever had. Aran can’t help it but take tons of photos of you when you visit Keukenhof Gardens, the tulips are in bloom, and he is reminded of why he’s absolutely smitten with you as he watches you walk through them. He takes a page out of Atsumu’s book and makes a cheesy joke about you being more beautiful than any flower, and he actually means it. He indulges you on a trip to the Van Gogh Museum, and he actually really loves it. You both leave with a stunning replica of “Almond Blossom,” because it reminded him so much of the cherry blossoms at home.

❥ Akaashi Keiji - Denmark. Another not-so-popular honeymoon destination, but it’s perfect for you and Akaashi, after all it is the home of one of the most famous fairytale authors, Hans Christian Andersen. You both spend your days touring castles in Copenhagen, and taking romantic boat rides through the canals (Europe loves these doesn’t it?), visiting Andersen’s hometown, relaxing at picturesque cafés and reading, visiting the lovely medieval village of Ribe, and taking all the aesthetic couple photos! And of course, exploring the stunning Tivoli Gardens. It’s quiet, quaint, and charming, much like your beau <3 and it’s the perfect destination for your fairytale getaway.

❥ Sakusa Kiyoomi - Prague, Czech Republic, a city of unparalleled beauty and elegance, just like your suave companion. You both honeymoon in the down season, where the crowds are less. I truly believe Kiyoomi is a romantic, and he definitely believes in the age-old rumor that a kiss in front of the statue of the romantic poet Karel Macha in the Petřín Hill Park on May Day will make your love eternal, so that’s how you start your first day in Prague after breakfast <3 there’s also the rumor that couples who kiss under a blossoming cherry tree on that day will last forever. So you guessed it, you both spend the entirety of your first day in Prague, on the hunt for said blossoming cherry tree. He makes up for it with a scorching kiss that leaves you tingling from the tips of your toes all the way to your ears when you do find your tree. Your time in Prague is spent going to an opera, romantic dinners every.single.day, putting your love lock on one of the many bridges, cruising on the canals, and to avoid all the crowds, a visit to Prague Castle before the sun rises to enjoy a magical stroll around the squares and courtyards as warmth paints the sky.

❥ Kuroo Tetsurou - New York...to be young and in love in New York City~ listen, I know New York isn’t your typical honeymoon destination but it just suits Kuroo so well! There’s so much to do! Can you imagine how fancy he’d be at all times? Especially in fall/winter fashion! Yeah, so we’re going with that. You guys go to Broadway, ice skating at Rockefeller in front of the big tree, stay at the Plaza cause it’s iconic, he gives you flowers at the top of the Empire State (like chuck and blair 😭 I miss gossip girl), eat good pizza in Little Italy, eat all the things at Chelsea Market, take walks around Central Park, have coffee at Ralph Lauren’s, and Breakfast at Tiffany’s Blue Box Café! It would be the most amazing honeymoon, with Mr. Fancy himself.

❥ Suna Rintarou - South Korea. Seoul is easily one of the most instagrammable places in the world, need I say more? You and Suna spend most of your time doing the absolute most at places like the TrickEye Museum, 2D café, Lotte World, giant library at Starfield Mall, and yeah, you two rent those Hanboks when you visit Gyeongbokgung Palace (Suna is mortified but does it to make you happy anyway). You two have pictures of everything, so many pictures. Who said being married had to be boring? You two hit up the clubs in Itaewon, and act like the horny teens you are on the inside, well he legit just sits in the booth while you give him a lap dance. Also, a nighttime visit to Namsan Seoul Tower to see the stunning views of the city, and to put your love lock on the observation deck with thousands of others. Suna tells you it’s lame but he literally had a special heart-shaped lock made for you both with your names engraved onto it <3 who’s the lame one now, Sunarin?

Thank you to @honeybunny-sawamura for letting me badger her with these hcs💕💝

Also do tell me who you guys want to see next!

[jaskierswolf]

My dearest darling Wolfie, I saw your idea for game gerlion friends to lovers in @thewitcherbog horny chat and I am here to ask you to write the fic. Pls 💜😘

Tada!! I can't remember if this was exactly what I had planned... but it's what we're getting. Lovingly beta'd by @comfyswitcherblanketfort.

CW: probably rated M? Briefly mentioned masturbation more horny than smutty.

____

A retirement at Corvo Bianco had never been what Geralt expected of his life. He hadn’t been lying when he’d told a young Dandelion that witcher’s never retire, but in recent years between looting caves and haggling for contracts, he’d managed to save quite a bit of coin. He was, objectively, rich. He had the best armour on the Continent, the most deadly swords and crossbow bolts, and thanks to B.B., his house was beautifully decorated, with the exception of the rather garish portrait of his most loyal friend. Yet, he was still gaining more money than he knew what to do with. He’d started investing in merchants and refusing payment but the vineyard brought in a steady income and Geralt had to admit that his life was pretty luxurious these days.

So it wasn’t exactly a surprise when Dandelion had turned up, in fine, brightly coloured silks and the elegantly decorated elven lute from so many years ago. Geralt sometimes wondered whether Toruviel had enchanted her lute. There was barely a scratch and Geralt couldn’t even recall Dandelion ever having to change the lute strings in all the years he’d known the bard. Geralt was no expert but he was pretty sure that you were supposed to change the lute strings.

The sun was shining over the fields of Corvo Bianco, and Geralt felt at peace. Perhaps that was why he was feeling so nostalgic, pondering over the events that had led him to this moment. His life had always been so busy, but with Ciri off touring the multiverse, and Yennefer doing whatever Yennefer did these days now the Djinn wish had been broken, he was… well… bored? He had every Gwent card currently made, and no one would play him. It was just him and the bard, living the bachelor’s life in Touissant.

So was it any wonder that Geralt had started to develop feelings for his friend? Perhaps they’d always been there, clouded by the wish that tied him to Yennefer, or perhaps their newfound domesticity had awoken something in Geralt that he had never expected. Dandelion spent a lot of time in the makeshift study, working on his latest book, but they always ate together and sometimes the bard would even accompany Geralt on his contracts in the fields, for old times sake. After long nights of drinking too much wine or vodka, it wasn’t unusual for the pair of them to fall asleep together, curled up in one bed just like they used to in their youth. Those were Geralt’s favourite nights, because despite his protests of being better alone, he enjoyed the familiar warmth of another body pressed against his, and Dandelion had always been a cuddler.

And as if on cue, the bard burst through the doors onto the patio where Geralt was watching the world go by.

“Ah, Geralt, old friend, there you are. I’ve been looking all over for you!” Dandelion announced with a flick of his wrist. “I was just in town.”

“Dandelion,” Geralt groaned. “Are you trying to get yourself killed?”

“Dear Henrietta will forgive me in time, my friend,” Dandelion winked, his tongue flicking out between his lips, “and until then I have plenty of friends who will offer me shelter if the guards are around.”

“You look like a man sized peacock,” Geralt scoffed. “How the hell does no one see you?”

“Ah, dear witcher, you forget that I used to be a spy,” Dandelion laughed, putting one hand on his hips. “Now, stop interrupting, Geralt, or do you not care about the gift I picked out for you in town today?”

Geralt hummed, knowing that it didn’t really matter whether he cared or not. Nothing would stop Dandelion once he was in the middle of a story. Some things just never changed. “Go on.”

Dandelion beamed, and from behind his back he produced a wooden box. The poet cocked his head as he opened the lid, revealing a set of tiny vials neatly lined up. Geralt almost choked, his breath catching in his throat.

“Oil?” he spluttered. A man such as Dandelion had to know of the more promiscuous uses of oil. Whilst Dandelion had never explicitly said as such, the way he talked of his lovers had always led Geralt to believe that he was rather flexible in his tastes, much like Geralt himself.

The poet blushed as he pulled a single vial from the box, his long lutist fingers wrapping around the glass. “Bath oils, Geralt.”

“Oh, of course,” Geralt cursed internally. Dandelion had bought all sorts of expensive oils and lotions when they had been on the path together, neither of them were shy with their bathing habits and the poet was a highly skilled masseur.

Which was not helping Geralt’s sudden rush of arousal as he remembered the feel of the poet’s hands on his skin. They’d laughed off awkward erections in the past, it was just a thing that happened… but Geralt was starting to wonder what would happen if, for once, they let it happen.

“This one will probably be a bit much for your witcher senses, my friend, but I rather like it,” Dandelion continued, oblivious to Geralt's inner turmoil. “This one,” another vial was plucked from the box, “however, I think you will like, and I managed to buy this,” Dandelion pulled a scroll from his pocket, “from a local mage. It’s supposed to move the water around the tub, like a massage!”

“And you’re telling me this, why?” Geralt sighed, rolling his eyes. As much as he adored his old friend, the man could take his sweet time getting to the point. It was even worse when the poet and Regis got together, Geralt honestly thought he might never know peace again.

“Because, Geralt, I am treating my dearest friend to an extravagant bath time experience!” Dandelion exclaimed with wide arms, almost knocking off his own hat in his enthusiasm. “Friendship and love, art and wine, Geralt. What more could you want in life?”

Love.

No, friendship. Geralt needed to focus on that. How many times had Dandelion called him his friend? Too many to count.

“Assuming you have wine, what’s the art?” Geralt smirked, enjoying the offended noises Dandelion made.

“Geralt, I’ll have you know that-”

“Relax, Dandelion. I’m teasing. So how about this bath then?”

The two men made their way upstairs, peeling off their outer clothes as they strolled past Geralt’s bedroom, and picking up a robe each. Dandelion had filled the room with candles, and there was a soft floral scent hanging in the air, roses, the oil vial that Dandelion had initially held up.

“I thought this one was too much for my ‘witcher senses’?” Geralt scoffed, peering at the magically bubbling water.

“Well, yes, but I did also say I liked this one, and I’ll admit that I got a little carried away. You don’t mind, do you Geralt?”

Geralt shook his head as he stripped off his final layer of clothing and settled into the tub. Dandelion sat in a chair, still wrapped in his robe, and picked up his lute. He plucked idly at the strings until he was seemingly happy that they were in tune, and then he began to sing. Geralt sighed as he sank deeper into the hot water, the enchantment really did feel like a sort of massage as jets of water pulsed against his skin, but he couldn’t help but wonder. The oils, the candles, the romantic ballad…

Was his friend trying to tell him something?

It was time for Geralt to test the waters as it was. He trod the water with his hand, gently splashing to the beat of Dandelion’s song. Normally, he would close his eyes and let the poet’s music fill the room, but instead he was mesmerised by the way Dandelion’s finger caressed the lute strings. Geralt could feel his cock harden as he pondered what other uses his friend’s delicate hands could have, the way they found their mark with such precision. The poet could make any instrument sing to the gods in his hands, Geralt was sure that he was no exception.

“Practicing your fingering?” he asked Dandelion with a tilt of his head.

The strings twanged unpleasantly, making Geralt grimace as the sound reverberated in his head. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

Geralt smirked. “On your lute.”

“Right, yes, of course,” Dandelion muttered. “I’m just trying to figure out the next verse. I could use a hand, or an ear if you’d be willing to help.”

“I have a hand you could use, or two,” Geralt muttered not really intending for Dandelion to hear him but the poet had sharp ears and he spluttered incoherently as he set down his lute.

Geralt hummed and let his hand drop beneath the water, stroking his cock lazily. He wasn’t really chasing any real pleasure, but it was a good feeling, sending warmth across his skin. The bath, the candles, the song, they had to mean something even in Dandelion’s subconsciousness. The man was an insatiable flirt, and yet never seemed to notice when others’ affections were cast upon him, not unless it was blunt in its honesty.

So Geralt would be blunt.

He closed his eyes as he continued to stroke the length of his cock, the motion causing the water to ripple slightly, but not yet enough to draw Dandelion’s attention. The poet was too busy wittering on about his rhymes, only noticing when Geralt’s breath hitched as he cupped his balls.

“Geralt?”

“Dandelion,” Geralt grunted softly, his pleasure beginning to build from a warm ember to a roaring blaze that burned through him. The poet’s cornflower blue eyes were on him, dark and hungry. His cheeks were flushed rosy, and it seemed his dear friend was finally catching onto what was happening.

“I- I can leave, my friend, if you would prefer…”

“Stay,” Geralt insisted. “This not what you had in mind?”

“Well,” Dandelion laughed. “I had hoped, but I never thought it would actually happen, and well, really I thought it might take a little more convincing. Who knew all I needed all along were a few cheap candles?”

“Just get in the bath, Dandelion,” Geralt growled.

“Okay, okay,” Dandelion said with a roll of his eyes but shrugged out of his robe, allowing Geralt to admire his slender form. The poet’s cock remained soft as he stepped into the water. “So… how long?”

“Hmm?”

“How long have I been more than just a friend to you, Geralt?” Dandelion asked, settling into the water with a soft moan. His hands resting on Geralt’s thighs, fingers drawing patterns on Geralt’s skin under the water.

It wasn’t an easy question to answer. Could he even pin it down? Geralt wasn’t sure.

“Hard to tell, our friendship has never exactly been normal, Dandelion,” Geralt admitted.

Dandelion laughed, leaning forward in the tub, his hands stroking up Geralt’s thigh, the movement forcing the air from Geralt’s lungs. “You know, you’re right, and I think we should celebrate.”

“Celebrate?”

“Mhmm, and how about we start with a kiss?” Dandelion winked, before falling into Geralt embrace with a splash.

[ad1thi]

underrated stevetony fics rec list (P2)

this is ridiculously late and im so sorry, but here’s part 2 of this list!!

//

sweet lips on my lips (kiss like real people do).: @nethandrake

Frankly, if anyone told Tony that he’d be carried out of a burning building, well, he would’ve laughed in their faces. And if they were being extra mean about it, he probably would’ve even thrown them across the Atlantic.

After all, he’s Tony Stark. And Tony Stark always makes sure he has a safety net installed in his armor for emergencies, so it wouldn’t be out of commission before the building decided to collapse onto itself.

And yet, here he is, his armor out of commission, and being carried out of a burning building.

Carried out of a burning building by Steven Grant Rogers.

(In which Tony's from Civil War and Steve's from Infinity War. It's a problem.)

Rising: @withstarryeyes

Heat is licking up his sides and he groans, feeling his knees turn wobbly, and fumbles his way to the wall of the elevator. The metal is blessedly cool on his forehead and he sighs, eyes burning when he closes them. It’s still dark outside and every fiber of Tony’s being is telling him to go back to bed but he has work to do and plans to make and a blueprint open on his desk in the lab, Fury approved, and he can’t not do his job. So he musters all his strength and pushes off the wall when the elevator lands, ignoring his wet hacking as he moves.

He falls before he makes it to the bench, his top coated in sweat, and his eyes shutting to the whirling sensation that takes his breath away and leaves him panting in nauseated gasps. His hand shakes from where it’s planted on the ground, keeping him up.

the square root of infinity: @firebrands

steve and tony have their first fight. tony doesn't handle it well.

A Social Engagement: @finduilasclln

Written for the prompt: “This is without a doubt the stupidest plan you’ve ever had. Of course I’m in.”

Steve agrees to something without fully comprehending what it means. Modern times are confusing.

Wounds Without A Bandage: @gotthesilver

Tony burrows deeper in his blankets, squeezing his eyes shut and trying to forget the last year. Taking control of Stark Industries was one thing, even if it had been a shock to Obie and the rest of the board when Tony came of age and started dispensing of all his dad’s old cronies, but SI’s exploration team actually finding Steve? Tony deciding Steve should come live with him? Tony has regrets.

Well.

He has regrets this morning.

Before last night, the most Tony regretted in relation to Steve was not jumping him the moment it became clear all his faculties were intact and that Tony hadn’t defrosted a brain dead Captain America.

Love Like A Hunger: @gotthesilver

Pushing the door open to the bedroom, Steve pauses at what he sees. “Tony? I—”

“Surprise?”

“I—” Steve swallows, taking in the sight of Tony, blood instantly going to his cock as he looks him up and down. “You look—wow.”

Tony’s got on a damn Princess Leia outfit, gold curling around his chest and hips, with red fabric skimming over his crotch, and Steve’s brain feels like it’s shut down.

The Night Shift: @weethreequarter

Welcome to the Emergency Department of San Antonio General where Dr. Tony Stark joins the team fresh from his most recent tour in Afghanistan and - much to the consternation of the other staff - strikes up an instant rapport with Nurse Steve Rogers. Meanwhile, new resident Bruce Banner refuses to give up on his patient, and Dr. Sharon Carter learns something from her own patients. Throw in a pissed off hospital administrator, Clint using the coffee pot as a mug again, and a major car crash and you have, well, just another night shift.

the james braincell: @starklysteve

“Right. How do we get them to admit they love each other?”

In front of him, Bucky brings out a metal flask and takes a swig out of it. “Hell if I know. You’re the genius who went to MIT.”

“I studied aerospace engineering,” Rhodey rolls his eyes, “not how to get two idiots to kiss.”

-------

Or, Bucky and Rhodey are the braincells.

In a desperate last ditch attempt, they set Steve and Tony up for a blind date.

Steve and Tony don't know that their date is each other. But they might have a braincell of their own. Might.

the good place (is next to you): @starklysteve

“I mean,” Tony tries his best shot at breaking the tension, “if you’re stuck with the wrong guy, at least I’m sexier than your real deal?”

Tony died and got sent to some sort of heaven, with Captain America as his soulmate. Except, they got the wrong Anthony Stark, and to stay in the Good Place, Tony must convince Steve to teach him how to be good.

-x-

(watching The Good Place is not necessary to understand this AU, but will help)

president captain america: @livingtheobsessedlife

He’s supposed to be campaigning to be elected as president of the United States, not pining over some billionaire he met at one of his campaign events. And yet, Steve can’t seem to get genius, philanthropist (and his newest big-time donor) Tony Stark out of his head.

come build a home out of me: @maguna-stxrk

Steve clears his throat.

“What if I went with you?” he asks nonchalantly, like his heart isn’t threatening to beat out of his ribcage.

Tony blinks a few times, looking at Steve, his mouth ajar. “As a— As my date?”

“Yeah.” Steve nods, feeling a little breathless.

“You don’t mind?” Tony furrows his eyebrows.

“I don’t. In fact, you can just tell them I’m your boyfriend. I’m sure they’ll back off, wouldn’t they?”

What.

“I— Huh?” Tony stares at him, brown eyes blown wide open.

What. What. What.

“Huh? Uh, I mean— You know, that way people will see that you have definitely moved on. Monica will see that you have moved on. Right?” Steve smiles, hoping that it masks his inner panic, because what?

Steve Rogers, what have you done?

Between Two Infinities: @/anonymous

The Titanic, 1946. Steven Grant Rogers did not think that going to war would end up with him being three times his normal size with superstrength and agility to boot, and... rich...but hey, he wasn’t complaining. Steve also didn’t expect to fall out of love- if it was even love in the first place- with the woman he was explicitly told to propose to, and instead fall for a formerly rich, formerly a playboy, still a genius, Tony Stark. Especially because, you know, it was a little tiny bit illegal, and he was supposed to be “America’s Golden Boy”, as Bucky put it.

All Tony expected out of the trip was to escape Europe with his best friend thanks to a lucky game of blackjack. He didn’t think he’d find himself having sex in the back of a car located in the cargo hold of the Titanic, or almost jumping off said ship. But that was just the life of a rogue Stark child, wasn’t it? At least Peggy was nice. Her dad, not so much.

A Thief Like Tony Stark: @dontholdthiswarinside

Tony is a high ranking criminal, known for his talent to disappear. Steve is a disillusioned soldier who needs some cash.

And some people will always be heroes, no matter what they do for a living.

The Things We Can’t Unsee: @/orphan-account

The mission was simple: get in, gather information, get out. Of course, Steve never really expected the enemy to follow this plan. One way or the other, something was bound to happen. They were the Avengers, after all. Nothing ever went easy for them.

What Steve didn’t expect was it going as far as it did; he didn’t expect having to make a decision that nobody should have to make.

Now Bucky’s lying there, bloody and dying all because of him, and Natasha’s poisonous words keep ringing in his head. Thinking about the ring he carries with him every day, Steve knows she’s right.

He’d never be able to make that call if it were Tony.

The Last Barman Poet: @nativemossy

Tony wasn't expecting anything more than dealing with a tequila-drunk Clint and a slightly wrinkled suit on this trip to Mexico. He got plenty more than he bargained for when he catches the eye of a handsome vacationer at the swim-up bar. Tipsy shenanigans ensue.

[magesmiths]

let your heart be your guide

Regency AU // Nat Sewell x Lottie Fitzwilliam // part one

Rating: General (will go up)

Word count: 3,495

Read on AO3

The first time she sees her, it’s from across a busy dance hall, mid turn, whilst in the arms of someone else. All evening, the music has been too loud, overwhelming as she tries to enjoy the dancing, a feat now rendered impossible by the presence of one unknown woman. Her smile is what she notices first; open, genuine as she converses with the gentleman standing next to her.

And then she’s looking right back at her, Lottie is sure of it, the wide smile falling slightly as big brown eyes watch her. It’s as if the world narrows, focusing on only her in a moment of pure, blinding clarity.

(She will, months later, whisper between breathless kisses how difficult it was to remember the steps, to keep turning her head away from the beauty that had ensnared her.)

The dance finally comes to an end and she barely remembers to thank her partner for the dance, his request for another fails to reach her as she scours the crowd for her again. It doesn’t take long, for the tall woman is easy to find even amongst all these people; standing near the edge of the room amongst instruments more valuable than Lottie has ever seen. A small smile pulls at her lips as the relief washes over her. Her pulse quickens as she takes the figure in, both anchored by her presence and set adrift by the fluttering need to know her bursting from within.

If this is what the poets speak of, their words are not enough to capture the truth of it.

She edges slightly closer, breath catching in her throat as she notes a loose curl of hair falling into her soft, serene face - tries to banish the accompanying need to tuck it back behind her ear - and elegant fingers skirting over the pianoforte. Silver rings glint in the light, holding her focus as she watches the gentle caress of the keys. She doesn’t press down, the instrument makes no sound, but her fingers ghost over the ivory as if playing a song from memory. Lottie wishes she could hear her music.

Tearing herself away, she searches the room for someone - anyone - who might be a mutual acquaintance, attempting to maintain an air of calm through the urgent hammering of her heart.

She needn’t have worried. Salvation finds her.

“Miss Fitzwilliam?”

Lottie spins on the spot at the sound of her name, skirts swirling around her, and finds herself facing her. Tina Poname, an old friend, who had spoken Lottie’s name is stood beside her and Lottie tries to control the smile from taking over her entire face.

Lottie tears her eyes from the woman’s face, from the quirk of a smile on her lips - beautiful is not a good enough word, she thinks - and desperately tries to remember her manners. “Miss Poname!” She gives a curtsey. “I did not know you were in Bath, I am delighted to see you.” Her eyes, unbidden, flick back to the deep brown ones behind him to find they are watching her.

“And I you.” Lottie doesn’t miss the smile on Miss Poname’s face as she begins her next sentence, “May I introduce you to Miss Natalie Sewell? Miss Charlotte Fitzwilliam.”

She curtseys again as she looks back to Miss Sewell, her name - Natalie - running through her mind, wondering how it would feel to say, how it would sound. “I’m honoured to make your acquaintance, Miss Sewell.”

“The honour is all mine, Miss Fitzwilliam.” The deep voice, saying her name so softly, sends a flutter through her. “I have not seen you in Bath before, are you often here for the season?”

“Never. It is my first time.”

The smile on Miss Sewell’s lips - oh those lips, she could stare all day - grows at her words. “Well, I hope we’ve made a good impression so far?”

“It’s a beautiful city, I have yet to see much of it though.”

“Indeed, it is.” Tina’s voice forces Lottie’s gaze away from Miss Sewell. She had almost forgotten she was there. “My apologies, you will have to excuse me,” She leans in close to Lottie as she passes, “I have just seen Mr Verda dancing of all things and you know I can’t bear missing a chance to tease him.”

She gives a brief bow to them both and walks off, skirts rustling. Lottie turns back to Miss Sewell, has a moment to take her in as she watches Tina reunite with their friend. Lottie has to crane her neck a little to look at her face. Her skin looks impossibly soft, warm brown almost glowing in the candle light.

Miss Sewell turns back to her and she feels herself grow warm at being caught staring, but can’t bring herself to look away. “Is there anywhere in Bath you would recommend going whilst I’m here?”

It’s been mere minutes, but Lottie is already accustomed to seeing the smile on Miss Sewell’s lips; hopes it’s a result of her company, though she suspects it’s more of a permanent fixture. “I would always recommend the library, I spend much of my time there. I suppose there’s the obvious: the Roman Baths. They are quite beautiful, though the city has become more of a resort in recent years, they are certainly worth seeing. The history of the hot springs is fascinating, formed from water fallen thousands of years ago.”

Her brown eyes, wide and bright, are enchanting. Lottie feels as though she could fall into their depths as she listens to her explain the intricacies of rainwater reacting with limestone, her soothing tones like a sweet wine.

“I apologise,” She looks bashful for a moment and looks away. “You don’t want to hear the history of how rainwater turned into hot springs -”

“On the contrary.” Miss Sewell raises an eyebrow as her eyes flicker back and forth between Lottie’s. “I would happily listen.”

One side of Miss Sewell’s mouth quirks up, and she nods at Lottie. “I’m grateful for your kind words, however a tour guide may be better equipped to explain the science behind it if you are interested.”

“Perhaps you could be my tour guide.” Lottie watches as Miss Sewell rolls her lips together and avoids her gaze.

There’s a moment where she wonders if she’s been too bold, too forthcoming with what burns inside her. The suggestion was light, hopeful even, but it’s a dangerous thing. A risk worth taking, she thinks. Lottie has rarely been one to hold back from temptation, no amount of admonishment could quit her from chasing her desires. And this, this is no fleeting want.

She feels a twinge of regret bubble up inside her, hopes to rectify what she has done, almost prays that she has not ruined the chance of even friendship between the pair, when Miss Sewell looks up.

When they make eye contact again, those brown eyes seem darker. “Perhaps I could be.”

That night, when Lottie is home and under her covers, replaying the evening in her mind, watching it play out on the ornate ceiling above her bed, she lets her mouth form her name. Just once in a whisper barely audible even to her.

“Natalie.”

---

The Assembly rooms are busy again. It is by far the most popular place for a social occasion in Bath, or so Lottie’s aunt is wont to tell her. She would roll her eyes if it wouldn’t earn her a reprimand.

Though, in this instance, she probably wouldn’t complain at being brought here again. The possibility of seeing one Miss Sewell set her heart aflutter.

She had never been a fan of romance novels, though she was always expected to have read the latest by those around her. She preferred an adventure, something thrilling. The feeling of anticipation, the possibility of something exciting with every turn of a page, it was like no other.

But even that feeling was nothing to this.  

They are barely in the door when Lottie is craning her neck to see over crowds. She should be thankful her brother and aunt are too consumed by each other’s conversation to notice her distraction.

“Are you looking for someone?” A soft voice comes from behind her and she closes her eyes briefly to savour it.

“Miss Sewell,” Lottie turns and inclines her head at the taller woman, more beautiful than her memory could do credit.

“Miss Fitzwilliam.” She bows her head in return, her smile widening. “So, were you looking for someone?’

“No, I was merely looking around.” Matching grins tell another story.

“Have you met my brother and aunt?” The two step forward beside her to be introduced. “Mr John Fitzwilliam, Mrs Anne Fitzwilliam. May I present Miss Natalie Sewell.”

Lottie watches as Miss Sewell curtsies and begins easy conversation with them. She struggles to look away as her new friend charms her infamously hard to please aunt, her endearing countenance putting all at ease. Her soft laughter pulls at Lottie’s lips, and she should try and compose herself lest someone catch her looking like a lovesick teenager, but it’s too hard to care at this moment.

When the Fitzwilliams eventually excuse themselves, Lottie lingers for a moment, looking up at the taller woman, heart beating so loudly it drowns out the music in the next room.

“I hope to see more of you this evening, Miss Sewell.”

“And I you, Miss Fitzwilliam.”

There’s a moment of silence between them. They both refuse to be the first to break eye contact and it is not just the corset that’s making it hard for Lottie to breathe.

“Your aunt is waiting for you.” Miss Sewell eventually breaks it and nods towards the doorway.

“Yes. Of course.” Feeling herself flush, she finally steps away. Sparing one last look, she smiles to see she is still being watched.

---

Lottie finds her near the pianoforte again on their third meeting, can’t stop the words that slip from her lips in her eagerness, foregoing any formal greeting. “It’s a beautiful instrument.”

An easy smile graces Miss Sewell’s lips. “Indeed. Do you play?” Her eyes are still on the instrument. It’s a grand thing, though it seems untouched in this corner of the hall.

“Not as well as I should like.”

“I’m sure you’re far better than you care to admit.” Miss Sewell turns to look at her then and the crinkle of her eyes tells Lottie that she relishes the blush blossoming on her pale cheeks.

The younger woman lowers her eyes, a small smile appearing on her face “I would hate for you to be disappointed, Miss Sewell. So I shall venture never to play in front of you and prove you wrong.”

“Oh, but that should surely break my heart.”  

“You leave me in an unfortunate position, Miss Sewell. I must either disappoint you, or break your heart, neither of which is remotely desirable to me.” They’re both smiling now, and Miss Sewell’s eyes flash with something , darkening as Lottie continues. “Perhaps you could help me improve.”

“It would be my pleasure.” Lottie barely contains the shiver that courses through her at the words.

---

The pair have formed a ritual of sorts by their fourth meeting, unspoken - though the words need not leave their lips for them both to agree, each seeking only the other on nights like these.

They spend the first few hours fulfilling their duties, dancing and mingling. Lottie can barely stop herself from looking Miss Sewell’s way, though she feels her gaze oft pulled. Round and round she goes, dancing with men who may as well be faceless for all the draw they have.

Balls and dances tend to last upwards of six hours, and it’s remarkable to find someone able to dance the whole night. It is even more unlikely to find someone willing to do so. Miss Sewell, a lover of dancing, would happily spend the entire time on the dance floor were it for the right partner. As it was, the right partner was occupied and, regretfully, off limits.

Although it isn’t unheard of for two women to dance together, she dared not ask the Master of Ceremonies for permission. Want as she might, Miss Sewell was of the belief that even the opportunity to touch Miss Fitzwilliam, in the tender way that dancing requires and not merely in an accidental brush of fingers in a busy room, would render her incapable of letting go.

The company they find when obligation is finally fulfilled is easier than any Lottie has ever known. She can’t help but feel a lightness in Miss Sewell’s company, a happiness founded on merely the others’ presence.

Lottie closes her eyes, a smile growing on her face as she hears the opening notes of her favourite piece. Dancers gather on the floor and she watches as the pairs bow to each other before taking up the first position.

“Are you to abandon me for another dance?”

“Well, I know few others here, save for my brother and aunt, and otherwise preoccupied friends.” Her gaze flickers towards Miss Sewell who is still watching the dance floor, a small quirk to her lips. “I think you can be safe in the knowledge that I will remain in your company.”

“Now that is a wonderful reassurance.”

They watch a little longer and Lottie can’t help but wish she was watching her companion on the floor instead.

“Will you not dance, Miss Sewell?”

Dark eyes meet hers, smile fully blossoming on curved lips. She can’t help but watch them as her friend speaks. “Are you asking, Miss Fitzwilliam?”

She feels herself redden, and the smile on Miss Sewell’s face grows wider. She leans close, and Lottie can feel the heat of the whisper on her skin. “Don’t tell me either way, I couldn’t bear to know if not.”

She turns away again, leaving Lottie to stare.

Two women who find comfort and fulfilment, not in the attentions of those around them, but in each other, have more power than any man in their presence could hope to wield. For what is man if his attentions are unneeded? Undesired? Unwelcomed? He is nothing.

It is, however, another matter entirely for man to know that.

“Good evening, Miss Sewell.”

Her head turns slowly to face the voice.

“Mr Marks.”

A handsome man with blond hair and brown eyes stands before them, his approach gone entirely unnoticed by the women before him.

“I trust you are well this evening? Is the Miss du Mortain here in Bath too?”

“I’m afraid not, she preferred to remain in London for the season. And you, Mr Marks? Have you been in Bath long?”

“Only a fortnight, I’m due to be here for the rest of the season.”

Miss Sewell only smiles in response, leaving the man looking between the two women. Lottie wonders for a moment why she doesn’t introduce them when Mr Marks’ smooth voice interrupts her.

“I should rather like to ask your friend here to dance.” He gestures to Lottie, inclining his head slightly, and she blinks, taken aback. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees a cool mask wash over Miss Sewell’s usually friendly features.

“Is it not presumptuous that you should ask a lady to dance without having first made her acquaintance? Some may consider that rather bold, sir.”

“Fortune favours—”

Lottie lifts her hand to her mouth so as to cover the smile growing there as Miss Sewell cuts him off. “Oh, you can do better than recite an old proverb, Mr Marks. A learned man such as yourself must have a plethora of words at your disposal. I’m sure you can enchant my dear friend here with a few of your own.” She folds her hands in her lap, long brown fingers sitting neatly against the dusky green of her gown and holds his gaze, a smile firmly set on her lips.

They both watch as the man before them reddens, opening his mouth and then closing it abruptly. He looks away.

“No? Perhaps your time will be better spent with women already in your acquaintance, Mr Marks.” Lottie has never heard her speak like this, still all politeness in her words, but there’s something underneath, a finality in her tone that sends Mr Marks on his way. “It was a pleasure to see you, I will pass on your regards to Miss du Mortain.”

Mr Marks finally finds his voice, “Forgive me, Miss Sewell,” He nods first at her companion, then at Lottie, “I forgot I already promised this next dance to another.” His eyes linger for a moment on the latter, offering a tight smile, before he turns away, coat tails swishing behind him.

Silence falls over the friends as they watch him depart, neither needing to look at the other to know they have matching smiles on their faces.

“Do you have a history with Mr Marks, Miss Sewell?”

Her smile falters slightly. “I suppose you could call it that.”

“A scorned lover, perhaps? One of many of yours, I’m sure.”

“Scorned -” She turns quickly to look at her, mouth open and brow furrowed in protestation when she sees Lottie’s smirk. “Oh, you’re teasing me.” She purses her lips and shakes her head, narrowed eyes not leaving Lottie’s. “Ironic, as you should be thanking me.”

“Oh? You didn’t want the two of us to have an acquaintance? I couldn’t tell.”

She scoffs. “I would not deign to introduce you to the likes of Robert Marks. I only wish I had been afforded the same privilege, then we might have avoided the altercation altogether.”

“Don’t say that, I rather enjoyed the altercation , as you call it.”

Miss Sewell watches her, brown eyes flickering between hazel ones, the smile that Lottie is beginning to associate with her own happiness working its way onto her face. “Have you plans this week?”

Lottie only shakes her head in response to the sudden topic change and looks toward the dance floor, cheeks still tinted pink from Miss Sewell’s previous attentions.

“I will be going to the Circulating Library tomorrow. Would you like to join me?”

“Only if you do not laugh at how few great works of literature I have read. You will have to give me recommendations.”

“Do I ever laugh at you, Miss Fitzwilliam?”

“Frequently.” Lottie forces her lips in a frown that refuses to hold.

“How can I ever earn your forgiveness?”

The smile is inescapable now, the corners of her lips pull up on their own accord, and Lottie turns to face Miss Sewell, not expecting her dark eyes to already be focused on her.

Before Lottie can think of anything to say, they are interrupted once again. Her brother approaches with a man whose name she pays no attention to, requesting a dance. There is no escaping this time.

Lottie stands, sparing a wistful, apologetic glance at Miss Sewell and she takes the arm of her partner. She watches as Miss Sewell, never alone for long, is approached by someone.

Lottie can see her from the other side of the wide circle as her eyes look up under those dark lashes. Miss Sewell watches her instead of her partner, inclines her head and curtsies, a smile pulling at her lips that makes the butterflies in Lottie’s stomach take flight. Barely remembering to bow herself, Lottie’s eyes finally find her own partner, who doesn’t appear to have noticed her distraction.

They dance in circles, stepping in, and around their partners. At one point Lottie finds her fingers barely brushing against Miss Sewell’s as they pass each other, in a moment too quick to hold onto, though her mere presence warms her through.

It’s a slow, measured dance; one focused on maintained eye contact between partners and hands held up, close to their partner, but never quite meeting.

Lottie later remarks, in a rare, treasured moment of privacy whilst waiting for their respective carriages, that the dance is needlessly complicated and Miss Sewell smiles at her, drawing close.

She whispers, careful to not quite touch — lips so close that Lottie can feel her breath on her skin, “It’s about the anticipation, Miss Fitzwilliam, the build up to that moment you are allowed to touch.” She reaches a hand up, brushing a loose curl back from Lottie’s face. She feels her eyes flutter closed as fingers just barely ghost over the back of her neck. “And then,” her lips are so close, she knows if she turned her head she could feel them, soft against her skin, “it’s about relinquishing it,” Miss Sewell moves away, and Lottie’s body moves of its own accord, attempting to follow, “just when you’re eager for more.”

She does not need to open her eyes to know the smirk on Natalie’s face.

Once again interrupted, their carriages pull up. “Tomorrow then?”

“Tomorrow.” The word is sweet on her lips, a promise of something more .

[iwannaholdyoutight-]

Pintaga (a summer fic challenge)

Fresh fruit. Friends to lovers. Longing.

a/n: it’s finally here! This piece of writing couldn’t happen without the one and only @helladirections. She organized this amazing challenge and you guys should read everything from her and this challenge. Please, don’t forget to reblog, this is my first fic in a very long time and I would love to see people reading it.

word count: 8k

Preview:

In the air Harry could smell the jasmines, coming from the perfume of the girl with the blue heart shaped sunglasses and dressed with a yellow one piece with little white flowers sewed to it - a vintage piece she got just the day before on a thrift shop when they were exploring. He could listen to the faint Mick Jagger voice repeating the verse “pretty pretty girl” and he couldn’t disagree, she was a pretty girl indeed.

There was nothing he wanted more than get her in his arms, tell her he didn’t know it was possible to fall in love without even kissing the person for a first time. He wanted to press his nose into her neck and feel the shivers that would pass through her body.

When Harry had to postpone his tour, he was sad. But, when 2021 finally came, he was just so happy to be able to reconnect with his fans. To see people’s faces and knowing that each person has their own story to tell when they listen to his songs. He loves that. 

It was during tour that he met Angelino, a new music producer with very different methods in his technique: zither in a mix with glam rock, alfaias with hip hop. To put it short: they became fast friends when they met on a night out after the Vegas show. 

And it was thanks to Angelino he met her. It was raining so much when the words left his friends mouth “I want you to meet someone” yet she was the sunshine walking inside the hotel. 

She wasn’t shy but also didn’t do everything to draw any attention to her. Harry was captivated to say at least. Maybe was her smile or maybe was the way she looked with such care when taking to anyone. Sadly, they couldn’t see each other for longer than a few hours. Harry had a plane to catch, she was a movie and arts major in Italy and was only there to visit a friend. But Harry just couldn’t let her go, there was something about her, he wanted to know what was hidden behind those colorful outfits she wore and all the smart talk they had during that same rainy afternoon. Being in his position he had to be careful, what he would give to be “normal” for just 5 minutes so he could flirt with this cute girl, get her number and maybe ask her on a date. But he wasn’t. So he settled with an Instagram follow and a promises she would dm him books and movies he should check it up. 

The first book she made him read was Dorian Gray - she was shocked to know he never read anything by Oscar Wilde. In exchange he tried to make this curious stubborn girl give Murakami a second chance (she still hates the book and he couldn’t lie, he got a bit sad about it). 

After a few months of conversation he finally gave in and asked for her number. From this day on, they would never stop texting each other, to the point Jeff would complain about how “he’s always on his phone and never actually listening”. 

He got so close to her and was admired with how free she was. After 20 something years stuck in her hometown she decided she wanted to met the world. Entered this course in Italy with a scholarship (she is very smart to the point it Harry is intimidated) and never looked back. 

Harry told her about his first big break up, that inspired Fine Line, told her about his fears and how love is a difficult subject when it comes to him. The loving part it’s easy the problem is when the enchantment dies and all there is left are two broken people. The one to move on first it’s always the happiest. 

But he couldn’t always live on his phone talking to this girl who makes him weak in the knees. He had interviews to attend and shows to perform. When tour finally ended, he was tired but sad, a deep space in his heart felt so empty. It’s the first time in three years he didn’t have nothing planned and he was only starting his new album in a few months. 

Harry needed a break, a nice holiday. Sadly London was cold and so was his emotions. So, when that same girl told him about this island called “Fernando de Noronha” around the South American continent and that her aunt got a house there and asked if he wanted to join her on 10 days trip there… he just couldn’t say no! 

It’s summertime whenever she is around and well… it is summertime in the south so it’s a win win for Harry, honestly. 

🐠

And that’s where Harry finds himself right now… bathing in the sun together with this amazing girl that makes him feel all mushy inside and nervous. He is almost a 30 year old man, he shouldn't be so nervous around her, but it’s inevitable. 

The moment he got off the plane, he was in love. The island was beautiful. Blue skies that mix with the blue of the ocean and the horizon. Everything seemed to be made out of glitter and rainbow colors. There was music every night, people were singing and dancing. During the day there was street fairs, boat rides and the beautiful golden light that was didn’t come only from the sun, but also a light that shined through this amazing young woman when she was laughing and trying (and failing) to play volleyball with a group of teens on the beach. They didn’t stay in a fancy hotel, they were in a simple yet beautiful house, without any neighborhood but when they went out they always went to the simplest places, surrounded by simple people. People who might know who he was, but mostly just didn’t care. Sure, he was asked to take some pictures but that was the most normal he ever felt since he was a teenager. There was a rich part in the island, lots of famous people from South America liked to spend their summer there- but for one, Harry was grateful to stay like this. 

All thanks to her...

The summer breeze in his face being exactly what he needed. He was living those sweet days of summer he was denied in 2020 because of the pandemic and in 2021 because of the tour. 

In the air Harry could smell the jasmines, coming from the perfume of the girl with the blue heart shaped sunglasses and dressed with a yellow one piece with little white flowers sewed to it - a vintage piece she got just the day before on a thrift shop when they were exploring. He could listen to the faint Mick Jagger voice repeating the verse “pretty pretty girl” and he couldn’t disagree, she was a pretty girl indeed. 

There was nothing he wanted more than get her in his arms, tell her he didn’t know it was possible to fall in love without even kissing the person for a first time. He wanted to press his nose into her neck and feel the shivers that would pass through her body. 

He wanted to kiss her and keep her forever by his side so they could be happily ever after. But Harry couldn’t. He was bad at love and he would rather have her as a friend than doing something and fucking up her as well.

“What did you say” she asked while lifting up from the towel she had on the floor, raising her sunglasses over that beautiful sun kissed hair (it was shining so much) and attentively looking at him. 

“I didn’t say a thing” was he thinking out loud? Oh my god… he is fucked if that was that case. 

“You said something about being bad at love. Why do you think that?”

Harry sat down and took a deep breath. 

“I talked to you about my love life before… I don’t think I was made for love. Some people can find love at every corner, but it doesn’t matter how hard I try, every time I think I got it right… the person just vanish out of the tips of my fingers. And I feel so bad talking about this when I know I can have anything I want, but it hurts when I’m alone in a bedroom or I’m being the third wheel again with my friends. I’m just so lonely all the time and every time I try… it just ends shitty. I get a few good songs out of it but the pain sometimes it’s just not worth it”. 

She looked at the ocean, the sun was already so high in the sky, it was probably around 11 am. Then, looking back at Harry, she gave him a weak smile. She felt like he was a mixture of everything good and he didn't deserve to feel like he wasn’t cut for love. If she could and he let her… she would give him all the love it was possible and impossible. 

“Just because it ended doesn’t mean it was bad. If it made you happy, even if just for one second, it was worth it. And even when it hurts, we always learn something.” She took a deep breath, waiting for him to say something while Harry just looked at her with soft eyes but so much sadness and sorrow behind them. He didn’t know what to say, so she decided to continue: “you know, I call it bullshit when poets say love is only good if it hurts. Love isn’t made for pain, sometimes it might happen, but love is made to give warmth and to make the soul feel like it’s being caressed in a whisper that says ‘you found me’. And there are many types of love, not all of them are made to last a lifetime”. 

He gave her a smile: 

“Do you think there is still someone to love me or have I missed my chance?” 

That was her chance: 

“I think if you look right… you will find it right next to you, so close it would surprise you” she gave him a knowing look and decided to change the subject “wanna put on some clothes and go to the street fair? We can have lunch in there, buy some nice fresh fruits and have a picnic when the sun starts to set. You can make a playlist while a set a nice towel with candles and everything we might need. Maybe… we could try some of that stuff I got yesterday, what do you say?” 

That stuff being the Argyreia seeds a friend of her had given as a gift. They were in the fridge inside a pot of water - apparently you have to leave them at least 12 hours on it so it could be ready to use. Among the effects they found of Google you could suffer from synesthesia episodes, positive elevation of your humor, sensitive to touch among others. A normal (and legal, apparently) natural hallucinogen. 

Harry decided to play cool with her confession (he thinks it was a confession) and just smirks at her as a confirmation for the rest of their day. Maybe then, he’ll have the courage to kiss her. He gets up first, offering his hand, she takes it, getting up. Being barefoot, she had to look up to talk to him, their hands intertwined, noses almost touching. Looking inside his eyes, she thinks Harry must be a magical being, that could be the only explanation to how his eyes could change color to match the nature. Normally green but right now his eyes were almost blue, maybe was the sun, maybe was the sky without a single cloud; one thing was clear: his eyes were matching the ocean and the sky but also the leaves on the palm trees with the green left in them. 

Leading the way, they got inside the house. In a secluded area (you just had to walk a lot but it wasn’t in the middle of the fancy big mansions- the house was colorful - just like everything about this island). The wood backdoor was the way they go when coming back from the beach . As soon as they entered through the gate, was a little stone way, with red and pink poppies adorning both sides, they went to the shower the house had on the outside so none of them would make a mess inside the house with sand everywhere. Then, I sei de the house, walking through the open plan kitchen, that was out of a sixties movie. Almost everything looked vintage with the most beautiful dining table they had ever seen: made out of dark wood and tall chairs, her aunt said this table was from her great grandmother. 

Then there was two little steps and it was the living room, with a lot of space, three couches and a lot of pieces of art, it looked like someone had just throw different items but, somehow made it work. Harry went to sit on a plastic chair there was right in the corner of the room and looked at the very wet very sunburnt girl:

 “You can go get ready first, I’ll wait” she smiled and thanked him, going upstairs and leaving Harry alone with his thoughts. Looking at the yellow wall full of paintings from the people of the island, he didn’t know what to do to himself, he was fucked. He got up from the chair and went to the vinyl player that stood on the far left of the living room with three boxes next to it, opening he found a lot of vinyls. Settling for one he never heard before: Caetano Veloso - Transa, he put to play. He knew about Caetano, he even putted one of his songs to play at the one night only event, the name of the song was Baby and at the time was his ex girlfriend who had showed him, but right now the only thing he could think about when listening to this very psychedelic song that was playing through the speakers, the only thing he could think about is the same girl who is taking a shower just a few feet away and how much he wants the hours to pass faster so they can get high and listen to the playlist he was making and was to add also this album he was listening, especially after a quick google research about it, having now the acknowledge that transa translates to sex. 

She came downstairs with her hair still wet, wearing her old pink converse and a yellow sundress, with the cute straps and a short but very loose ends. She had this glow someone can only achieve when you just spend the day at the beach with dear ones. Free of any makeup she was with his ray bans and gave him a soft look “I hope you don’t mind I got your ray bans to wear. They just look they were made for this outfit”. 

“No problem. Give me ten minutes and I’ll be done”. 

Taking the fastest shower he ever took in his life, he put on some old jeans short and his favorite pink summer shirt. And he ran - literally ran - downstairs because he felt like this was a date. He was excited. 

“So, wanna take the bikes or see if we can get an Uber” there was this thing, neither one of them had the license required for the island and even if the Uber app worked there… it was hard to find drivers who were willing to drive to such a far area. 

“Let’s take the bikes. They have baskets so whatever we buy we can just carry back” 

“Sure”  

They went through the front door, the house was painted in blue, to match the ocean, with lots of different plants and those same plants, especially the clambering plants, gave the house this almost fairy vibe. Like it was made of a golden and rainbow dust and everything that it’s good. The bikes were located near the wall and close to the small pool. One bike was white and the other was of a bright orange. Harry got the bright one because it was slightly bigger, so he would feel more comfortable. 

🍓

They rode the bike for around 10 minutes, passing fields and trees that were so tall it almost felt like their leaves were kissing each other. Harry kept ruming gold and braid by stevie nicks the whole ride while dividing his attention between the girl riding the white bike a few meters ahead and the surrounding area. There was no one in sight for the first few minutes, but the closer they got to the center of the island, more people started to appear. In a few days living in the island  he already observed that he could pinpoint who was a tourist and who was a native by one thing: the clothes. 

The citizens always dressed like it was just a normal day (like imagine you normal day it’s living in paradise) and people from the outside always went out like it was a beach party everyday. As soon as Harry notice that, he always made sure to dress quite simple, so people could pass him by. Of course, sometimes someone would try and talk to him with the native language (which he learned is portuguese and not spanish, as he originally thought it would be). 

They descarted their bikes on a small wall that was made for this purpose, with digital locks and everything (it was 5 bucks the hour and all you had to do when it was the time to pick it up you just put on your card to pay for the time you used the spot). They started to walk towards the street fair that was in a pretty street with old houses from the colonial era. The more they walked, closer their bodies touched and closer they were from holding hands. 

People never talk about the conversation that goes when it comes to small touches. Sometimes, a small caress of a finger against someone's hand, it’s more than the act of touching, it’s an act of questioning: are we feeling the same? I wanna hold you hand like my soul it’s holding yours, please take care of it, because it’s your to take. 

They started holding hands the moment the took a turn to the street fair, and if anyone looked at them, would say there were a couple. And it was nothing more that their entire wish that that statement was actually truth.

In the window of a red brick house there was an old man with his guitar, he sung something of their culture and a few people were dancing to it like it was a show. Harry was so in love with this environment, people lived and breathed culture. It was a break he never needed. He already went all around the world and it was on a simple island that he found something he didn’t know it existed.

“Where do you want to go first?” Asked the girl looking up at him and squirting her eyes because of the sun. She had his sunglasses but they were acting more like a headband to that mess it was her hair than to their actual function: protect her shining beautiful eyes from the sun. 

“How about we go and buy those fruit for our late evening picnic and then we go have lunch? And from there we see where to go”.

“Seems like a plan, let’s find the vendor with the most variety of fruits, wanna taste them all” And I wanna taste you, thought Harry but he just accepted it wasn’t the time yet. He didn’t want their first kiss to be in the middle of a fair with so many eyes watching. Harry hasn’t been recognized too much but he couldn’t risk too much. 

Walking they passed a group of old ladies - like maybe in their 80s- selling beautiful handmade dresses and skirts and shirts, all made in white lace. Such a beautiful work, and Harry made a mental note to come back later and get something for his mother and sister. That was something they would like. 

Finally they reached a wooden table full of different fruits and behind it was an older and a younger man, if they had to guess, they would say there were grandfather and grandchild because of their faces similarities: dark skin with very powerful green eyes. While one had the blackest hair either one of them had see, the other one had silver strings in different parts of his hair. In their mouth they carried a soonting smille. They approached the table and the older one started to talk in the native language and he was speaking in such a enthusiastic manner that Harry didn’t have the heart to explain he new close to nothing about portuguese. But the young man seemed to have noticed who he was, touching the talking fella head and saying something in his ear. He stopped talking and was, now, quiet, but never ending the smile in his face. 

“Sorry about that. My name is Sol. What can I do for you guys?” The girl beside Harry gave him this shining smile and started talking:

“Hi, Sol.That means Sun right?” 

“Yeah, my family it’s a very hippie family. Actually I have two sisters: one it’s called Lua, her name translates to ‘moon’, and the other it’s called Frida. By the way,if it’s not too much problem Mr. Styles, I would like to get an autograph for them, they are big fans of you. And what about your name, sunshine?” asked the young man. Harry was jealous he was flirting with her - and he wasn’t entitled to feel jealous, but that’s what he was feeling - so he put his arms around her and told her name getting an angry yet amused look from her. 

“And no problem about the autograph… we would like to take a bit of everything you can recommend us. We are going to do a picnic and want to try everything that it’s different”.

“But please add a bit of those gorgeous strawberries, they look yummy”said the girl next to him “ and what it’s that?” she pointed to a pink yet green round fruit. 

“That is pink mango, very famous around this island. She is sweeter than the normal ones you found, actually there are over 24 different types of mango around the south territory, but right now we only have this one. But we’ll be getting more around monday morning if you guys are interest.” He gave them a time to think if they wanted to buy it or not.

“I love mango. Put 3 of these, please.” Harry said giving a genuine smile, everybody knows how much he loves fruit… among other stuff that could be fruit related. He saw a small fruit, that looked like a cherry but it had this red/orange to it’s tone and it wasn’t completely round, so he asked: “Sol, what is this type of cherry?”

“Oh that one? That it’s pitanga. This fruit smells like trees and something sweet that takes you back to your childhood, if you lived on this island” he laughed like he was remembering a distant memory inside of his green eyes but continued soon afterward his little journey through memory lane “My mother used to say this fruit it’s like when you fall in love at first sight: first comes the infatuation, the smell that reminds you there is so much good in the world and all of the good is all in one person. Then, when you first bite to it, first it has a sour taste, like when you get insecure about first kissing someone, but they, you get the courage and kisses them… and it’s amazing and sweet.” 

Well Harry didn’t need more and said:

“Give me 12 strawberries, a few limes so we can make drinks, those mangos,a bit of that gelly that looks yummy, and half  a pound of those pitangas”

“All done. That is going to be 25 and 75 cents” Both Harry and the girl tried to pay the guy, in the end, she ended up paying, earning a glare from Harry and looking at him like saying ‘what’. The boy returned with the change and the piece of paper for the autograph, Harry signed told him he would be back monday morning to get those other types of mangos and he could bring his sisters if he wanted to,he would gladly meet the girls. 

They said their goodbyes and continued their walking, now holding hands without questioning. 

“You know out of all those fruits the one I’m more excited to taste it’s this pitanga one” she told Harry. 

“Me too”

He knew she was talking more than just the fruit.

And so was him. 

With the sound of ocean and the winds in a mix with people chatter, they walked through the fair. Stopping for a quick lunch (some natural sandwiches with coconut water to wash it down) they looked around a vintage music store.

“It’s getting late, I wanna go back to the house if you don’t mind… get some sleep so I’m not tired when it’s time for our little luau” she said looking at him with tiresome eyes “oh maybe I’ll dress like a little witch!!!! So we can perform a little moon ritual”

That put a smile in Harry’s face. 

“You know Stevie would actually love this”

“I can’t help getting a bit starstruck every time you mention Stevie Nicks”  

“I get starstruck every time I remember that I’m actually her friend... it’s inevitable, she is a legend and an amazing human being”

They were walking and talking about Stevie Nicks and Harry was telling her all about the first time Stevie listened to Fine Line and by the time they got close to their bikes. Just like yesterday, Harry was ready to pay for their bikes parking lot but she was not having it. He was always paying for every little thing (the first time she got to pay anything was the fresh fruits just a few hours ago). So she looked at him when he was lost looking at the turquose sea and just ran away towards the bike.

She heard his scream- a soft loud HEY - and just when she was reaching for the bikes she felt two arms wrap around her waist and pull her out of the way. But they both lost their balance, falling towards the wall of bricks next to the bikes. Her head hit the wall a little bit to harshly makig her let out a low “oh” all that while he crushed her into the same wall. 

Puting his hand in fits next to her face, Harry took his face off and lowered to be abble to look at the pretty girl in the eyes. He noticed she was standing on her toes to get closer to him, if he took a deep breath he could smell her perfume, a mix of peach and tangerine. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He had never been as close to her as he were now. Harry was abble to see how beautiful eyes eyes were when the sun was high up in the sky and his face too close, he could see how her eyebrows had a thin yet natural draw or how her cupid bow were a little bit more colored than the rest of her lips. He could listen to the wind, bringing a message from the ocean: “it’s time to kiss her, you fool”.

He took her messy hair from her eyes, cradling her face in on hand while the other was kept on the wall, so he could have a sense of what was real. It was the perfect moment. 

Or not. 

Time simply wasn’t on Harry’s side, as he thought. Because someone started to yell at him in a language he couldn’t pinpoint the country, maybe Russia because of how pale was the old couple looked. They were point at the bikes and yelling at them, people were looking and she was blushing. 

“I think they want to park their bikes and we’re on their way” she told him “maybe we should just go home. 

 🍄

The sun was now close to say it’s farewell for the day. While Harry was busy making a nice playlist (and also giving himself a talk: “you are going to kiss her tonight”. Maybe if started to say all the time like a mantra in would come true). She was making the perfect ambience for a beach party for two. Opening in the sand a round beach towel with lots of candles for when the only light in the sky was the moon and stars. The fruits all in pretty plates made out of wood and she also melted dark chocolate - it would look cool with the strawberries. 

The sky was a mix of pretty colors: pink and purple and orange and everything that would make a perfect painting . 

She was using this old seventies skirt from her mother (a tie dye skirt with all the colors of the rainbow) and a Stevie Nicks shirt she stole from Harry the night before to sleep. Her hair was falling from her face, dancing with the wind just as her skirt. 

It was that moment that Harry made his appearance: his safe sex shirt, yellow shorts, barefoot, no rings. Smiling at her, she thought she looked like he looked like a prince out of every seventies groupies fantasies. 

Harry was holding this old radio and in his hand there was a mixtape. Only Harry would come up with the idea of using this old radio that her aunt left at the house as a source for playlist making. Spotify playlist just wasn’t enough if he wanted impress her. In the words of his friend Rob Sheffield: “mixtapes are like pictures but with sound”. 

And Harry was planing of making this evening a picture he would always remember with lovin’ care. 

“Doesn’t he looks handsome” she walked towards him to help him with settled everything he brought down. If she wasn’t mistaken, he was blushing. 

“The seeds are ready if we want to try it now” Harry said changing the subject. 

“Let’s go. It takes half an hour to kick and till then we can talk some more” 

 The seeds didn’t have any taste, almost like any pill you wash down with water. 

“Wanna eat one of those fresh fruits?” He said getting a piece of de the pitanga “quite anxious to try this one” he said getting one of the small pitanga fruits. 

At first bite it was quite bitter, he was glad Sol had told him about that. But the more he ate, the sweater it got. It was something he couldn’t describe. 

“So what do you think?”  She asked. 

“The explanation that Sol gave to us it’s the best one. It changes taste the more you get used to it. The same is with feelings, right?” 

She smiled at him and opened her mouth: “give me some then….” He got one of the fruits and feed her. But he didn’t take his hands of her, leaving there so he could feel her neck veins move with her chewing. 

“It’s so sweet in the end… almost like an orgasm”. Harry was fucked. 

The time passed and they talked about anything and everything. The sun was almost all the way down as they looked over the horizon. 

“So… is it starting to hit for you? ” she asked with a coy smile while getting herself more of the fruits. 

He saw her red lips curve around the fruit and suddenly everything was changing colors. The world was red as the fruit she was (so deliciously) tasting. Red like the passion he was beginning to feel for this carefree girl. But she... she was golden. Her aura was just shining through her. 

It’s no secret he falls in love with people with golden aura- Stevie has said so herself when he first showed her his second album - and she is shining so much he thought the sun had come down to earth. 

Maybe she was the sun, even if it the stars were starting to take their place high in the sky, she was sunshine. His sunshine. It’s never night when she’s around.

“You know, it’s starting to hit” 

“And how do you know that?” 

“You’re golden” 

She laughed at him

“Are you quoting to me a song you wrote about another woman, Styles?” 

“No. It’s your aura. It’s shining. And is golden” 

That left her with no answer. 

“What about you?”  

“What about me?” 

“Seeing anything?” 

She could see the rainbow inside his eyes. She was always attached to everything that was colorful, from a young age. And right now there was this rainbow of lights playing with her vision. And it was all because of this beautiful young man standing right in front of her. 

“Yeah, I think I can see everything” happy with her mysterious answer, she looked at the ocean. The waves were moving slow and in pretty rhythm, inviting her to dance together. 

Today all of the nature was rooting for them. Getting another pitanga she could feel the sour before the sweet. Giving her body chills. She looked at him and those chills only got stronger but so was her bravery: “will you dance with me?” she asked. 

“Well... of course young maiden I shall dance with you” he laughed at his own joke while getting up and offering his hand. 

In that moment their worlds collided: their hand were glued together seeding all of different feels from one body to another. They didn’t need to talk to understand: there was a feeling of belonging neither of them never felt even if once they thought they did. This was a moment once in a lifetime: the moment you look at someone and you see them slightly different from one minute ago. When all of the puzzles pieces starts to make sense: what they were feeling from the moment they got on this island wasn’t only attraction it was months of friendship that intertwined them towards something stronger. Something they knew it was blooming inside their chest. Something new, something exciting. 

Something beautiful.

He twirled her in his arms and then let her rest her head in his chest, right where his heart was beating so loud and fast, just for her. 

“You know it feels like the world is almost too much right now” Harry heard her say “it seems like there are more sound than before, the ocean is actually a song ya comes together with your heartbeat and when you touch me it feels like there is a more to than just a simple touch, like it’s your souls that’s touching me, you know?” He starts to caress her right arm with the tip of his finger, he wanted her to feel more of whatever this she was describing. “Or maybe that’s just the seeds talking but it just feels like something I never had before” 

God, she looked beautiful right now blushing with all the glitter around her and her lips red from all the fruits. 

It’s time. 

“I wanna taste those pitanga lips. Can I?” He asks while still caressing her arms with the tips of his fingers, getting her dizzy and seeing everything with light tones of pink, just like the shirt he wore to the street fair. She wants so much that in a moment of pure infatuation she raises her hand, feeling his chestnut curls, looking into his green eyes that looked almost a dark blue due to the lighting and finally she answered: 

“Anytime. Everywhere. Anywhere” 

He gave her a soft kind of fucked up smile, getting a good grasp of her hair and pulling her towards his mouth. 

She spent so much of her time wondering how does Harry Styles kisses but nothing could get her ready to what she felt in that moment. His lips were a bit chapped because of the sun and the weather, they both were a bit clumsy because they couldn’t feel their faces but the soft touch of his tongue contrasting with tight grasp he had on her hair was making her body feel like it was part of the sand they were standing while he was the ocean, one doesn’t belong without the other, in a painting they would always be together and if that kiss was any indication... so would be their lives. 

He gave her a small bite on the lips and laughed: “I’m so sorry, I can’t feel my lips” and she started to giggle because she couldn’t feel a lot, but she could feel him. All of him. 

“I’m so glad we finally kissed” she said in a whisper. He looked inside of her eyes before putting his eyes right on her left cheek and flicking his eye lashes while she was having a fit with laughter... everything was too much in their state of mind. And this little touch made her feel like Harry has been tickling her soft skin for hours. 

“If you’re so glad that we kissed...  you wouldn’t mind if we kissed a bit more, right?” He said in a sensual whisper in her ear while giving little bites. 

She pulled him by his hair in a hungry attack. Moaning into his mouth. Sucking his tongue. Smiling when they took small break. 

They were standing, her on the tip of her toes, trying to reach him but Harry had other plans, whispering a small “come here” he took her by the waist and made her jump so he could walk back to the beach towel and sit down with her on his lap. 

With Harry’s hips between her knees, that wasn’t a inch to separate them. All of their bodies were touching and each particle inside of them was screaming in delight. The feeling of having someone near when the mind is in such a state of inebriation was out of this world. It was paradise. 

But maybe their state of mind is just a plus because Harry is pretty sure it could be 10 am on a Sunday and she would make him feel the same way he was feeling now: completely in bliss, in a hypnotic state of mind because of her pitanga lips and the warm energy. She was his sun, his warmth when they would feel could. A little piece of magic after so much pain in love. And Harry couldn’t deny anymore: he was falling. 

She stopped kissing him and decided to give small kisses in his neck and every time he moaned she would increase the strength of this kiss. 

Harry was quite literally seeing stars, but not only the ones in the sky. He was seeing the stars coming together in a show: each constellation was dancing on its own circle of star friends. And there were always changing color: pink, golden, red, silver. 

They were dancing in a celebration because two stars that were meant to be were finally coming together as one. 

That was the moment that Harry decided that he wanted more. He pulled her out of his neck and asked: “I love that you are wearing my old shirt but there is nothing more in this world that I would love more than being able to see you without it. Can I?” 

Her response was clear: raising her hands above her hand, the - now- moonlight caressing her form when Harry took her shirt off. She was perfect, every little thing about her was just so her, from the fact that she wasn’t wearing a bra to how she had this little moon necklace and a little citrine stone resting right on her heart. 

He didn’t want to lose more time, he started to give little pecks on her nipples and when Harry heard a moan and a whisper saying “finally” he just went ahead and took the everything he could from her chest inside his mouth while his hand was playing with her right breast and his other hand was supporting her back so she wouldn’t fall off his lap. 

She was seeing stars, she could feel everything and anything. His mouth was powerful, like he knew all the buttons to push and that was only the beginning. Moving her hips in circle movements she started to moan more loudly. Using one hand to pull his hair and grinding faster on his growing dick and finally earning a full on moan from her she took his head of her chest and said “I need you, please take off your clothes” 

She didn’t have to say more. After this they disrobed so fast they didn’t knew they were able. Now, completely naked, she looked at Harry with a mischievous look and went back to his lap, but before she could do anymore than that, Harry stopped her, using his force to manhandle her body to a lay down position “I promise you that I will be inside you in a moment, but first, I need to taste you, I need to hear your moans and know that’s all because of me, all because of my tongue” 

She lost her power to speak but she was pretty sure she kind of screamed “yes” without intending to. 

Harry spread her open and looked at the mess that was between her legs. He did loved tasting the pitanga. But he was pretty sure that nothing would compare to the taste of her. 

He took his finger and started to pass lightly through the inside of her right thigh and she was trembling already “this seeds are making me more sensible fuck” he heard whisper. Smirking he answered her: “oh so this is all the seeds and not me? Pet, you are breaking my heart now”. 

In a revenge he took the same finger that was caressing her thigh and passed from her opening to her clit without any warning. 

“Fuck fuck FUCK please just touch me already. My whole body is burning in flames all I can see is a burning flame” he decided to end her suffering. Taking his thumb and lazily caressing her clit in slow but strong circles. 

“Are you happy now, Pet” 

“Yes but please, give me more” 

In a responde Harry took his tongue and licked her right on her clit and started to use the tip of his finger to tease her entrance. 

Her moans started to get louder and Harry didn’t have a care anymore, just her taste. That’s the only thing that matters. 

While his lips were sucking and licking her clit his finger were working inside of her. When he wanted to change he would put his finger in her clit and would go to her pretty hole and use his tongue to tease her. 

Every time he saw she was getting closer to her orgasm, he would stop what he was doing and would just use the tip of his finger to tease her while he kissed her thigh. When her breathing was back to a more concentrated peace he would get back to give her everything he could with his tongue and finger. 

And that went on for a while: lips, tongue, fingers. Saw her getting close? Stopped for a while. 

When he was doing the pattern for the third time she signed: “I need to come, please let me come?”

 Harry wasn’t doing this to be mean, he just wanted to be the only thing she could feel and see. Wanted this to be so good she would never want to be away from him again. And when he saw her trembling lips and eyes full of tear he new she has enough, so he moved his finger in a “come here” motion while she was wetting and wetting more and more his hand, dripping down to the towel and her screams were so loud that if there was a single soul in the almost private beach, he was sure they could listen. 

When she was done he took his finger off of her linking each one of them while patiently waiting so she could get back to her state of mind and tell him what she wanted next. 

“Hey, there is a condom in the fruit basket” she said 

“You dirty little thing, were you planning all of this?” Harry said taking the condom and opening carefully. 

“No but I had my hopes up” 

She looked so perfect with the sweat on her body dancing around the moonlight, he smiled and asked sweetly: “how do you want me?”

“I want you on top, want to be able to look inside your eyes” He wanted that, too. 

“Your wish is my command” whispered Harry while settling on top of her. He stroked her face with one arm supported beside her hand. “Are you ready for me” She nodded with starry eyes and asked:

“And you, are you ready for me?”

Harry guided himself inside her, getting his mouth closer to her left ear and whispered like it was a secret and she was the only one who had the right to hear: “I have been ready for you my whole life” and then he was inside of her. While she was breathing hard, he was whispering sweet nothing in her ear, trying to calm himself, he wanted this to last.

“You can move, you know” that was all Harry needed to start to pick up his pace, making sure every time he came closer to her his pubic bone would caress her clit. She was whimpering and he was completely hers. 

He picked her leg up on his shoulder and said: “I need…. fuck…. I need to get closer to you”. She was feeling all of him stretching her a little bit more every time he pushed himself inside of her. Hitting her g spot so perfectly she was seeing stars - and this time was all because of him, not the seeds. 

Her body was on fire and the delicious warmth was starting to form in the pit of her stomach. She was going to come again, and she was going to come hard. 

“Come on, baby. I can feel you squeezing me so hard. I know you wanna come. I need to feel it” Harry said, his movements becoming each time more out of rhythm, chasing his own peak. 

Bringing his hand to her clit, it was only three flicks of his fingers till she was shaking and her eyes were closing. Her mouth forming a delicious smile, one full of satisfaction. And it was watching her come that Harry felt his need to come as well. Closing his eyes and feeling his whole body shake with release. 

The only thing surrounding Harry was her. Her name. Her smell. The feeling of her. Everything was her. 

When their breathing was back to a normal rhythm and the moon and stars were high in sky, Harry looked over her naked body laid down on all the towels, surrounded by fruits and  golden from the candle lights. He was starting to sober up and there was so much he wanted to tell her, but he settled for one single sentence: 

“You are a wonderful creation” he told her. 

“Look at you quoting Dorian Gray to me!” She said smiling lightly “Do you remember that was the first dm I ever sent you? Telling you to read that book.” 

“Of course I remember. I remember everything you ever said to me” he started laughing with the memory “you know, after that message I went running to the closest book store? I wanted to do anything to have a reason to talk to you, even if it was just a dm. I wanted you to think of me all the time, because since that moment I saw you on that raining afternoon my heart started to beat in synchrony with yours” now it’s time to say everything, before it’s too late “you know I’m falling for you right?” 

She looked at him like he was the brightest star in the night. 

“I know, I’m falling in love with you too” she told him while laying her her on his chest and started to trace the butterfly tattoo “And now?” 

“Now I think I have a new song about another fruit to write”. They both started to smile, sealing the deal. She got another pitanga and popped into her mouth and he smiled. He was happy.

[sleekervae]

The Neighbour [0.1]

Masterlist

Everything had played out like the rising action in a horror movie. And before the whole world's eyes, life on Earth had slowed to a snail-like crawl. Covid 19 was ravaging through cities and countries faster than a salmonella outbreak at a restaurant even Gordon Ramsay couldn't attempt to save. It was terrifying to watch, and even more terrifying to see work and interaction dry up so quickly. Especially for those who relied on social interaction to stay sane.

Luckily for Remington, he happened to be stuck with his brother when quarantine measures went into full effect.

It was no big deal living with Emerson, if anything, it was relatively more calm with two out of the three of them sharing a space. Sebastian and Larissa were staying well and safe in their own house, popping by now and again at the gate to check in on his little brothers. No doubt, it sucked. The album was pushed back, the tour called off, the only thing keeping the hype for 'The Bastards' release was social media.

At least Remington had comfort in the fact that he wouldn't have to endure this quarantine alone. Living in his own house all by himself, he'd probably drive himself up the wall and find himself hanging off the rafters (literally).

Tuesday morning was bright and warm, as they tended to be in LA. Emerson was sat comfortably at the kitchen table, drinking his usual cup of tea and reading the depressing headlines coming out of the news. Pepper was curled up at his feet, snoring softly and her little marshmallow body rising steadily. The neighbourhood was quiet, it always was, but it was especially tranquil these spring days in April. He simpered sardonically when he read the latest quote from the president, promising that the pandemic would pass come July.

His attention was gripped suddenly when he heard the low squeal of car tires. The youngest brother glanced outside the window, his dark eyes falling over the little blue Waivecar that had pulled up at the opposing apartment complex. Those cars had been coming back and forth for the last four days, with the same girl coming and going. And at night, the apartment facing the house would keep the lights on until two or three in the morning, but she wasn't partying. The most noise this girl made was the hum of her radio drifting out of an open window.

Clearly, whoever she was, she was still in the weeds of moving. Perhaps when she was settled, Emerson would go by and introduce himself, make her feel welcome. Considering how warm the climate was, this particular neighbourhood had a tendency to be quiet cold and private towards neighbours. No doubt many of them weren't a fan of the band and their at home antics.

Emerson was startled when his brother came bounding in, dressed in the same moppy grey sweats he had been practically living in for weeks. Thank goodness he wasn't wearing his heelys this time around; the other day he had crashed into the couch and flipped over onto the cushions, nearly smashing his head on the coffee table.

"The guys will be by in about half an hour," he said. Emerson narrowed his eyes at his older brother.

"He says as we're under strict orders from the state health officials to not see anybody," he murmured.

Remington pouted, running a hand through his evidently growing blonde hair. He pulled up a seat next to his brother, "Hey, you were the one who said it's getting too quiet around here. And besides, it's not like we're coming from opposite counties. Seb lives like four blocks down from us,"

"I'm just getting a little nervous, is all," Emerson shrugged, showing him the article on his tablet, "The numbers are still going up,"

"And they'll keep going up until they find a cure. And while they're doing that, we're going to be in the backyard playing soccer and eating pizza," Remington smiled.

"Who said we're having pizza?"

"I did. I just decided,"

"Maybe I want Mexican? Did you think about that?"

Across the street in the fresh red brick and black-trimmed apartment, three floors up from the ground and in direct line of the sun sat Eva. The twenty-four-year-old literary bachelor sat comfortably at her newly furnished desk, typing away at her laptop that was due for a battery change -- Eva just hadn't found the time to physically take it into the store. On her right she had a lukewarm cup of coffee, on the left her speaker which was softly blasting Tove Lo's new album. All the while, her bony fingers flew over the keyboard, her big stormy blue eyes skimming the words that sprinted across her document.

Eva got by as a writer, not a novelist or a poet, but as a ghost writer. She was hired to write materials for would-be authors and journalists, all of whom either didn't have the drive or commitment to write to the extent Eva did. Surprisingly, she made some pretty good money just off that. And while that work tended to be dry and bleak, Eva had spent her free time writing various fanfictions -- mostly for Hannibal and Criminal Minds. She happened to be quite prolific on Tumblr because of her literary fantasies.

And while her work was often isolating, Eva didn't live alone by any means. She had her pale tabby, Pluto, to keep her company. He was snoozing on the couch, despite how often Eva had trained him not to do that when he was a kitten.

She had just returned from an early morning run from the grocery store -- having learned the hard way that despite the pandemic, people will continue to flock to the stores in droves and it's almost impossible to social distance within them. As if moving out of her old apartment wasn't hard enough, now she had to deal with hastily late movers, jumbled lease agreements, and a pandemic.

In the throws of bittersweet silence, Eva's concentration was broke when a shrill alarm had her nearly jumping out of her seat. It was only her phone, the screen lighting up with a 'Blocked' ID. Eva smiled wickedly and declined the call.

The young writer pushed her rolley chair away from the desk and did a stretch, her head turning towards the house across the street. She figured a couple of frat boys shared the place, they had a few of their friends over from time to time but they were relatively quiet. The most she would hear out of them is some smack talk coming from the backyard.

Pluto's head popped up from the couch, then he leapt onto the floor and trotted over to the window sill, hopping up to spy on the unfamiliar car that was pulling up to the house. Eva could hardly care less. There was a statewide order to see only a small group of people as little as possible, and as long as the neighbours wouldn't bother her, she wouldn't bother them.

It was a shame, as if having to meet new people wasn't difficult enough for her...

A few hours passed and soon the silence in the Los Angeles neighbourhood was broken by the grunts and thwacks of a backyard game of pool basketball. The boys and a few of their friends were all the more engaged in their game while their girls sat aside on deck chairs under the beating sun. Under the shade of the pergola, their friend Andrew was grilling some sausages -- beef and tofu -- on the barbecue.

Remington was taking the piss out of Sebastian for being all over his girl, but who the hell could blame the kid? There was a new rush of life in the guitarist's face whenever the topic of Larissa came up. The same could be said for Emerson and Shy. Remington wouldn't dare admit he was a little jealous of his brothers' happiness, so he'd settle for loving his brothers but torturing them at every opportunity.

Breaking out from the cold water, Emerson gripped tightly to the rubber red ball in his hand. Just as Sebastian came to take a running dive into the pool, he reared the ball back and hucked it at his older brother, nailing him square in the chest. Instead of a graceful dive, Sebastian flailed sideways and crashed into the water. The ball ricocheted onto the deck and bounced away towards the front yard.

"Oh my God!"

"Emerson!" Shy scolded, a little horrified and yet not surprised at her boyfriend's actions. Sebastian broke out of the water and shook his hair out of his eyes. It was more his pride and the laughter of his friends that hurt than the fading sting of rubber against skin.

Emerson meanwhile just giggled happily as he high-fived Remington.

"You guys fucking suck!" Sebastian glowered at the younger boys.

At the same time, Eva had given up on work for the day. As random as it was, she decided she'd try to make bread: the apparent trend that was surging during this quarantine. She bought all the things she would need this morning.

Stepped a few feet into the kitchen, she pushed open the window a brisk breeze flooding in and freshening up the air. Her attention was skewed to the house across the street, hearing some mild echoes of conversation and the thrum of a radio in the air.

She went to gather her ingredients and tools, however, as she turned to fetch an apron she realized something was missing: the patter of feet behind her. Pluto was usually Eva's shadow whenever he was in the kitchen, always the opportunistic cat he was. However, he wasn't on the couch. He wasn't in his bed. He wasn't snooping around in her closet or hiding under the desk.

"Where'd the ball go?" Daniel called, clinging to the ledge of the pool.

"I'll get it" Remington swam to the ladder and pulled himself out of the water. He shook out his sopping blonde hair, unintentionally shaking his ass in his colorful swim trunks. Their friend, Michael, whistled from the pool. Remington only smirked on him.

"Flattery will get you nowhere, hunny," he sassed, waving his hand and ducked off to fetch the ball.

Puzzled, Eva grabbed Pluto's favorite bag of cat treats and shook it, the sound was always able to bring him out -- when he was within ten feet of the treats. The fact that he didn't appear told Eva that he must've gone out the window once again to wreak havoc.

With an irritated huff, she switched out her house slippers for her sandals and hightailed it out with the bag of treats.

The red rubber pool ball had rolled across the grass and lodged itself into a bush at the fence. Remington was awash in frigid goosebumps, not even the California heat could will away the pool's chill quick enough. Nevertheless, he crawled down and retrieved the ball from the brambles, swatting off what little dirt he could. However, his fixation swerved to the complex across the street when he heard a heavy slam.

"Pluto!" a young girl came charging out of the apartment complex, dressed in a slightly wrinkled white t-shirt and her jaw-length hair swivelled smoothly around her face as she frantically looked up and down the street, "Pluto!" she was shaking a little yellow bag.

Remington looked up and down the quiet street, almost expecting to see Pluto the Dog standing at the corner like Cartoon Cat. He glanced down quizzically at the ball, then back at the young woman.

Eva rubbed the stress lines on her forehead out of pure frustration. This wasn't the first time Pluto ran off, he always came back. However, the damn cat would always find ways to stir up trouble; rowling up dogs, plucking fish from little ponds, scratching at hanging laundry.

"Pluto!!" she shook the bag of treats.

"Hey!" Remington called, waving his hand to the stranger, "You alright?"

Eva glanced at the owner of that soft, yet scratchy voice. She hadn't even noticed the bleach blonde kid standing in the glint of the sun. Eva crossed the street and stood a few feet from the gate, keeping more than two meters distance.

"I'm sorry. Have you happen to see a cat running around? He's a pale tabby, couple black stripes, likes to chew shoes," she shrugged.

Remington only shook his head, "Sorry. I'm afraid not," he smiled sheepishly, "Did -- did you say he was a cat?"

"Yeah,"

"And you named your cat 'Pluto'? Like -- the dog?"

Eva smirked, but shook her head, unable to help but glance at the tattoos that crossed over this boy's torso, "He's named after The Black Cat," she said, "You ever read Edgar Allan Poe?"

Remington smiled sheepishly, "Oh right, right! I haven't read that in a while, actually. He named the cat after the Roman God for death,"

Eva smiled pleasantly, not having pegged this boy to know so much about EAP, "That's right. I wanted a black cat to fit with the theme but the damn tabby stole my heart,"

"He knew what he was doing, obviously," Remington grinned, "I'll keep an eye for him though, if I happen to --" he was cut short however when he heard Pepper start yapping from the backyard. The yapping was followed by the clanging of metal and a screeching yrowl.

"What the fuck?" Andrew suddenly shouted, “Where’d this cat come from!?”

Panic flooded over Eva's face and Remington didn't think twice to open the gate and let her in. Social distancing aside, they two of them rushed into the backyard to find a tray of sausages had crashed onto the floor, the meat had rolled everywhere. Shy clung to Pepper as the little pomeranien yapped and growled incessantly at the scruffy tabby on the patio table, back arched and hissing at the dog while he guarded his captured sausage.

Eva was understandably horrified.

"What the hell happened here?" Remington asked, just as in shock over the mess.

"Cat came out of nowhere and dive bombed our lunch!" Daniel replied, having just crawled out of the pool.

"Pluto!" Eva ran to the table and scooped up the snarling cat, Pepper was still yapping away, "What is the matter with you?" she scolded at Pluto before turning to Remington and Andrew, who still wielded the metal tongs in his hand, "I am so frickin' sorry!"

"No, no, it's okay," Andrew shook his head, glancing at the lost sausages longingly, "I was kind of craving sushi, anyways,"

"It's no big deal, honestly," Remington assured her, "Five second rule applies, I'm sure,"

"It's been about thirty-seven seconds," Sebastian spoke flatly.

"Since when were you counting?"

Larissa was the only one who didn't seem annoyed or surprised at the feline intruder. She smiled warmly at the young girl, "Is this your cat?"

"Unfortunately," Eva grinned sheepishly, "I should know better. He's in a new area and he tends to get into trouble. Also, if anyone happens to lose a shoe, he did it, and I'm apologizing in advance," she pointed a finger at the now calmed tabby.

Shy smiled, "Well, Pepper's no better. She tends to think she's a way bigger dog," she held up and coddled the fluffy pomeranian. Eva smiled awkwardly, only now noting that she forgot to grab a face mask. And here she was: in a backyard full of strangers in a pandemic.

"Wait, I recognize you," Emerson said, "You just moved across the street, right?"

"Yeah, that's me. Eva," she nodded, "Great first impression, right?"

"You couldn't do any worse than Curcio over here," Sebastian grinned, "Remember the split pants?"

"You're going to hang that over my head for the rest of my life, aren't you?" Daniel glowered.

"Maybe," Emerson turned back to Eva, "I'm Emerson, that's Sebastian, Daniel, Larissa, Michael, Shy, Andrew... and you've already met Remington, I see,"

"The best looking one," Remington grinned.

Eva nodded, "Well, it was very nice meeting you all, I should get going, though. And again, I'm so sorry about the cat,"

Remington shrugged, "It's just sausages. We can get more," he assured her, "Here, I'll walk you out,"

"Thanks," Eva smiled, keeping Pluto close to her chest as she passed Shy and Pepper. Pepper gave one last fleeting bark as the cat passed by. Pluto simply licked his lips.

Michael couldn't help but lean over as he caught one last glance at the new neighbour, then turning to Emerson, "How come you get the pretty neighbour?"

The drummer shrugged, reaching over to grab the rubber ball that Remington dropped at the end of the pool, "Dumb luck?"

[1ddiscourseoftheday]

🐣 Tues 25 Feb🥤

Harry was in Washington DC where he was seen working out and recorded an NPR Tiny Desk concert. Exciting! That'll probably be better promo for the new single (Falling) than this morning's chatter about his credit card being declined at the gym juice bar- wonder how Amex (official sponsor of Harry Styles Love On Tour™️) felt about THAT tactic of drawing attention to their brand? He was seen with a smoothie so clearly they worked out (heh) something but then at the tiny concert he didn't actually play the new single so that's also an unusual way to promo it! He played TBSL, Cherry, Adore You ("this is a song about a fish!"), and Watermelon Sugar. Great stuff I'm sure but now everyone's distracted again, this time over his cluelessness about the conditions of the working people in the wake of his innocently cheerful comment about how nice the open office plan was, but that's just cause we haven't got the actual video of him performing yet so we gotta keep busy with pictures and hearsay. When not squeezing into a Green Bay Packers Jersey, he wore a sweater that said Mon Petit on it with a picture of a baby chick, which probably reminded normal people of Easter or something but here in the fandom called two popular fics to mind (pick your fighter: the highly controversial "Jesus fic" vs the long as fuck Relief Next To Me, which will win.)

Niall says he uses the laugh cry emoji a lot not cause he thinks we're funny, in fact it's because he feels sorry for us and is trying to make people feel better for making such crappy jokes! Ouch. "I actually don't find much funny at all," he says, the exception being Lewis Capaldi: "he's actually a funny fucker." He also said like a thousand other things, I'm tired, if anything important happens I'll let you know. More newsworthy than his many many (MANY) tweets, the artsy thirst photos of him rehearsing posted today! Very pretty. And in today's HBBW, Partly Sunny and Rainy Showers (is there any other kind of showers really?)

Jake Paul decided to defend himself against accusations of being a shitty douchebag by proving he's a shitty douchebag (so the usual for him yeah?) He posted video showing him following Zayn back to his room in Vegas and harassing him through the door to talk to him for a video until Zayn snaps and yells at him through the door to go away and leave him the fuck alone. It would be funny to see this tool getting told off by the whole world for it except it's not cause it's just shitty for poor Zayn. It's no wonder he doesn't go out publicly.

Liam had an interview today (that was recorded a little while back) for a BBC kids show, very random. He talks about worrying about forgetting words for gigs and it being difficult to pull off singing happy songs for the crowd when you aren't feeling happy but, so very Liam, also about being very aware in the band that even if it was just another day for him it's a one time special thing for the crowd so you have to make it good for them every time. It's more kid friendly than it sounds ("once we hid in a bread van!"), I just happen to be on high alert for certain things from Liam.

And Only The Poets, the band that opened for Louis at Scala and said they were being considered for a tour support act, say they have some exciting news coming in a week and hint that it's what we think it is. Nice! They're good! Louis finding a way to be a solo artist and still incorporate his talent at and love for finding and boosting little bands? Fucking priceless, can't wait to see who all the support acts are. I predict I'll be sad about the gender representation but love the music but you know Louis is full of surprises who the hell knows.

[insomniac-arrest]

“Get gone! Shut up!”

Ardent

genre: boy and his dog

words: 1.1k

The problem with seeing ghosts wasn’t so much the people. You can talk to people. You can threaten them and reason with them and throw salt and blow smoke in their unholy bloodless faces. They’re smart enough to not come back after that. People-ghosts knew I had no interest in their problems.

But animal ghosts on the other hand? They don’t know what’s good for them.

She looked at me with big plaintive eyes the second I dragged my suitcase through the door. I was moving in with my grandmother at her place on thirty-second street. My parents couldn’t “handle” me anymore as they said, but I didn’t see how making that my grandma’s problem did anything. My grandma was a sharp woman with bad eyes and a worse back. 

She spent her time finding things to complain about and the rest of her time doing something about it. That woman never met a public forum she didn’t want to stand up on and tell the law man to go chew a good one. I knew this, and little else about Grandma Elsa.

I tried to know even less about her as I locked myself in my room that summer and turned my music all the way up. I was alone for the most part. Except for her. Poets have one thing right: the world is full of dead things and built on their bones left behind.

Everywhere is haunted, and if you’re really unlucky, sometimes a big dumb sheepdog haunts your every waking moment. “Get gone!” I yelled at her as she padded after me whenever I so much as got up to use the bathroom.

She gave a playful bark and I rolled my eyes. “Shut up.” I growled, “Don’t you have undead squirrels to chase?”

She wagged her tail and followed at my heels as if I had ghost beef jerky in my pocket. I groaned and tried to cover my ears. I had tried salting her several times and incense and smoke, and every single time she yelped and hid under my bed for a good while.

Then she would come back with her big bright black eyes and sit on my floor like nothing had happened. Dogs have a terrible memory-- even unnatural spirit world ones.

“I can’t help you!” I yelled at her several times. But maybe she didn’t want my help. Maybe she just wanted to be a proper poltergeist and haunt me the right way-- well, the “right” way up until she tried to bring me my slippers every morning.

It wasn’t until the school year started that I became really concerned. “I can’t go to school!” I told my grandma, “Not when she follows me everywhere. It’s distracting.”

“No one else can see her.” My grandma said without looking up from her city petition.

“Yes. That’s the problem.”

“I’m not like your mom.” Grandma Elsa said plainly. “You’ll be socialized yet. Learn to play nice with others and all that.”

I rolled my eyes. As far as other people were concerned they were all just annoying ghosts waiting to happen for me. Grandma Elsa must have read my thoughts though and she whistled.

“What was that for?”

“The dog came, didn’t she?”

She had. She slobbered on the floor and gave me that same terrible, cutsey look again. I went to my room and I told her I planned to be a mailman when I grew up-- and specialize in vacuum delivery.

-------

The fall breeze coursed through my short hair and my sneakers slapped on the ground like wet spaghetti hitting the wall with each step. My shoes were soaked and I didn’t care.

My face was wet too. I sniffled like the fool I was. And I kept trying not to care.

“School,” I walked aimlessly, “what good does it do anyone?” I wiped at my stupid nose with my stupid sleeve and hung my head.

“Rrrack!” My ghost dog padded after me as if she couldn’t just... fly away.

I stopped in place. My shoes were wet. My eyes were bright red. And my school year was probably ruined already. “Fine.” I turned on her abruptly. “What is it you want?” I snarled, “Why can’t you move on?”

I knew I was breaking one of my own rules by asking, but the dog seemed to understand me. She wagged her tail excitedly and then turned around in useless circles.

I threw my hands in the air. “Show me already!”

She bolted off down the street at full tilt. I tried to keep up with my stubby legs and soggy socks making my toes wrinkle. “Hey!” I wheezed as I tried to follow her one turn after the next. “Where are you going?!”

It felt like the dog was taking me on a tour of the entire city as we went down main streets and over bike lanes and through tiny parks. Store front owners yelled at me to slow down. I couldn’t though. I had to keep following her.

My lungs were burning and legs aching by the time she turned a corner and gave a triumphant noisy bark. I turned into a dirty looking alley with boxes and trash bags on either side of me.

“Where’d you go?” I called, but there was no response for a long moment. I wandered down the area, kicking loose cans, and looking left and right. It wasn’t until I got half-way down when I heard the whimpering.

There was a collapsed box, the really big kind that mini fridges might come in. “Uh, alright?” Soft noises wafted from within and I slowly peeled open the lid. “Ah!” I jumped back with a cry of disgust. “Gross!”

It took me a full two-minutes to gather my strength to look again, and by that time a warm wiggling life with gunky closed eyes and a tiny mouth was laying there. She was about the size of my palm and wiggled close to her mother’s belly. It was a single pup born of a small scruffy looking brown dog.

“Oh.” I breathed out and the little puppy snuggled close to the street dog. I should have turned then. I should have walked away-- this was what I wanted, wasn’t it? To be left alone?

But I looked at the newborn life and how fragile she looked against her mother’s ribs. I knew my grandma would be fine with two more strays to feed. I gently pet its little head and I named her. “I’m sorry, you.” I mumbled. 

“Ardent.” I announced, “the second.” I had never helped a ghost move on before.

I took her home with me then, wrapped her in a blanket, and gave her mom as much food as I could find and brushed her scraggly fur. Ardent slept on my floor when she got older. She followed me to school. She brought me my slippers in the morning.

And apparently we fulfilled her next purpose.

[inspired-by-the-music]

For You: 4 O’Clock

Taglist: @jineunwootrash​ @jamies-kpop-reactions​

Chapter 14: A Fool

By the time Taemin’s lips parted from mine, the fireworks overhead had almost entirely ceased, and most cars had vacated the parking lot below. 

Breathless, I was almost hesitant to meet the glittering galaxies gathered in Taemin’s eyes, all too aware of the likelihood that I would spend the rest of the evening or the rest of my life aimlessly wandering through them. However, as you know by now, I could never resist the allure of Taemin’s other-worldly beauty. 

His eyes smiled at me as his hands moved to cup my cheeks. “Do you want to do it again?” His laughter dissolved all tension in the air. 

Before pecking at his grin, I hummed, “Maybe later!” 

Narrowly escaping Taemin’s effort to catch me in another thousand-year kiss, I grabbed my mask from its corner and frowned at the high heels that were entirely responsible for the dull ache in my ankle. 

“You don’t have to put them back on,” Taemin said, following my gaze. “I’ll carry you to my car and drive you home.” When I hesitated to climb onto his back because I had been too tall for piggyback rides for as long as I could remember, he pouted, begging, “Let me give you one drama-worthy moment, jagi. Please?”

There was no way to deny him whatever he wanted when he looked at me like that— like I alone held the key to his happiness in the palm of my hand. Setting aside my discomfort, abandoning my fear of heights (or, more accurately, my fear of falling from a height), I secured my hold around him. Releasing a deep breath, I laid my head on his shoulder. 

Quietly, as if he thought that I had fallen asleep in the span of just a few seconds and he didn’t wish to wake me, Taemin asked, “Are you sleepy?”

“No,” I whispered, although my blinking eyelids had gone heavy with fatigue in the aftermath of the party’s highs and lows. “You’re just really warm, so you’re a good cuddle buddy.”

The smile on his face was audible as he repeated, “Cuddle buddy?” I wish I had opened my eyes to admire his smile, to watch if it grew when I dropped a feather-light kiss on the crook of his neck. 

Delighted by the subtle shiver that ran down his spine at the sweet contact, I hoped that my voice carried my smile to him when he couldn’t quite see me. “What’s gonna happen to the blanket and the lights and—” I gasped. 

Taemin’s body stiffened. He glanced back at my widened eyes. “What’s wrong?” 

“Your rose—” tears gathered in my eyes with the sudden sharp blow of winter wind— “I left it behind. I must have dropped it when you kissed me. I must have been too happy to hold on, and now—” 

As soon as he set me on my feet beside his car, Taemin kissed each of my cheeks. Before any tear could fall, he promised, “I’ll go get it.” He held his keys out to me. “I’ll be right back, okay? Please don’t cry. It’s our happy night.” 

I parrotted the phrase, “Our happy night.” A smile broke across my face while I cursed myself for my embarrassing attachment to symbols like the rose. But then, it was easy to forget embarrassment when Taemin smiled at me. 

Looking back, I think that he must have planned all along to return to our rooftop place to retrieve the blanket and the lights and his mask. In that moment, though, I was so giddy with the thought that Taemin had retraced our path just for the sake of the rose that I greeted his return with a broad grin that he hopefully appreciated in the two seconds before I caught his lips with mine. 

“You kissed me,” Taemin gasped as if it were the first time. Holding the rose out to me, he asked, “Will you do it again in exchange for a flower?” 

I don’t know what came over me. In all of my life, I had never been an excessively smiley, giggly sort of person, but my cheeks ached from smiling that night. My laughter seemed to have lost all meaning, but I kept laughing anyway. All I can say, I guess, is that Taemin’s kiss made me happy. Too happy. Happier than I had ever been. 

Had there been a rational thought in my head that wasn’t centered around the boy in the diver’s seat, the boy determined to lace his fingers through mine as he drove down busy streets, the boy I trusted to lead me to new heights at any corner of the universe, I might have called myself cringeworthy. 

At every point in my life, I had been prematurely fixated on the moment of goodbye. Maybe that was some sort of well-intentioned coping mechanism. I’m not sure. All I can tell you in hindsight is that I must have had no intention of parting ways with Taemin. Maybe in some corner of my mind— or in the entirety of my heart— I decided that the rest of the night would be spent in his company. 

When he parked in the driveway of my house, I realized from the sheer number of cars that there was no way I would catch an hour of sleep. More importantly, there was no way I would have been able to lead Taemin into my room undetected. Within seconds, I pieced together that Super Junior had occupied my home to a.) celebrate the new year, b.) celebrate their years of friendship with Mom, and c.) to celebrate the union of Momhae. 

When I relayed that information to Taemin, explaining what it meant for our sleeping arrangements, he suggested, “We can sleep together in my room at the SuperM house.”

From his smirk and the mischievous glint in his eyes coupled with the dropping of his jaw when I eagerly nodded my head, I figured that Taemin hadn’t been entirely serious. No, Taemin was always serious about falling asleep together. He must have expected me to place some boundary against falling asleep together in his bed. 

Sinking at the thought that I hadn’t explained how much I loved sleeping at his side, I dropped the rose onto my lap so I could trace stars on his knuckles. “I’m sorry if this sounds too clingy or dependent, Taemin, but I— I want to spend every night with you. Even when we go back to living separate daily lives after the tour is over, I want to spend the nights with you. That time when I get to remove my mask and lay my head on your chest and just exist—”

Taemin squeezed my hand and raised it to meet his kiss. I had to smile at that sweet gesture as my heart swelled and overflowed with affection. The fond wrinkles that formed around his eyes encouraged me to continue to confess, “That time holds me together. I— to tell you the truth, I don’t know what I would do if that time were to end.” 

Taemin said, “It won’t,” so assuredly that the lump growing in my throat dissolved. Shallow lines etched into his forehead as he asked, “Why did you tell me all of those beautiful things, jagi?”

I shrugged, startled by my total lack of embarrassment as I met his twinkling eyes. “I just thought that it would be kind of tragic if you never knew what time with you means to me. Earlier, you asked me to tell you what I feel, and I— I’m going to try, but you should know that I feel a lot, and— if you could, I would like for you to kiss me when I ramble, please—”

Immediately, Taemin took the hint. He kissed me like he planned to feel my lips without the invitation.

. . . 

“I like it when you’re like this,” Taemin said on our way up the stairs to his bedroom. 

From my place on his back, I bit back my giggles for fear of waking the SuperM members who, judging by the almost eerie silence and empty driveway, weren’t even there. “Like what, Taem?” I kissed his temple, careful not to drop the champagne bottle he looted from the party onto the hardwood floor. “All over you?” 

“Well, yeah.” He smirked as he kicked open the door to his pure white room. From first glance, it seemed to be a place beyond earth. “But I actually meant that I like it when you’re honest with me. I love it when you trust me with everything locked away in here.” His index finger tapped on an inch of skin exposed beneath my bangs when he set me down on the small sofa by the window.

The cushions were as light and fluffy as clouds. Maybe with Taemin, every day, in one way or another, I enacted my dream of being something that belongs in the sky. 

“You’ve always been easy to trust,” I told him as he filled the space next to me. “I just— it’s hard to unlearn the habit of holding back. Just know that I’m going to trust you with everything in time.” 

Taemin took the bottle of champagne, beaming. “I know. Thank you for trying for me.” 

I rose onto my knees, sinking ever-so-slightly into the clouds, to peel back the silky curtains and raise the blinds. Shining brilliantly over our garden amid a shower of golden fireworks, the moon stared back at me and stole my breath away.

“You can see our garden well from here,” I observed as I sat back, careful not to disturb my aching ankle. “If I had a view like this from my room, then I probably never would have snuck out of my house.” 

Taemin said, “Flowers aren’t meant to be admired through a window.” 

And when I glanced over at him, I found that he was watching the moon just as intently as I always had. A part of me wanted to ask if he also dreamed of a day when he could reach out and feel the moon’s kiss on his fingertips. The answer was obvious the next time he looked into my eyes, though, so the question died on the tip of my tongue. 

“I like it when you’re like this,” I said, unable to lift my voice above a whisper.

“Like what, Lei?” After setting the champagne bottle on the floor with a gentle thud, Taemin leaned across the couch to lay his head on my chest, flush against my heartbeat. Hooking his hands around my waist, he fanned his breath over my collar bone. “All over you?”

My heart raced for him, but it didn’t hurt, and I wasn’t embarrassed knowing that he could feel it too. 

“Well, yeah.” I smiled as I carded my fingers through his hair. “But I actually meant that I like it when you talk like a poet. I love it when you trust me with everything in here.” My index finger traced his heart over his collared shirt. 

Taemin wrapped his fingers around my wrist and pressed my palm flat against his chest so I could feel it— the ever so subtle quickening of his pulse as he lifted his head to breathe against my parted lips. 

I guess the night couldn’t have remained an almost perfect dream come true because I didn’t live in a fairytale. Sometime later, Taemin pressed his back against the arm of the couch opposite me. After taking a small taste of champagne, he asked, “Do you want to play truth or dare like we did the last time we drank together?” 

Because I am a fool for anything with sentimental value, I nodded my head so passionately that Baekhyun’s flower crown fell off of my head. It landed on the space between Taemin and me. Before I could return the crown to its place atop my head, he swiped it and laid over his hair. Although the flowers weren’t his, they looked prettier on him. They transformed him into a vision of an angel. 

Knowing the answer, Taemin asked, “Am I pretty?” while tucking a strand of hair behind his ear and winking as I tasted champagne. 

I giggled at the bubbling sensation on my tongue. “You’re absolutely beautiful, Taemin.” He rejoiced at the compliment, and I asked, “Who gets to go first in this little game?”

He decided with the question, “Truth or dare, jagi?” 

Obeying Taemin’s gesture to take another sip of the drink, I decided to be bold. “Dare.” 

Taemin hummed as he caught his pretty pink bottom lip between his teeth. I do not doubt that he was deliberately employing the very on-stage tactics that elicit screams from full stadiums around the world. Tugging his phone out of his pocket and flashing the timer on its screen, he dared, “Kiss me for a whole minute.” 

Although I was no longer a stranger to kissing Taemin, my cheeks burned at his instruction. “A minute?” I frowned. I can’t tell you if I was disappointed because a minute was closer to never or forever. 

“A minute!” Taemin smiled before puckering his lips. 

I trembled with anxiety during that first dared kiss, I think, because I was too aware of the passage of time. I wasted that first dared kiss by holding my breath, whittling away the seconds until the alarm permitted me to crawl back to my side of the couch. 

If Taemin was disappointed by the minute he wasted with his lips pressed to mine in the most lackluster kiss of all time— if he was disappointed that I was still as shy in the field of physical affection as I was in verbal affection— I couldn’t tell. His lips curled into a smile that I could see through the champagne bottle. 

In my embarrassment, I nearly forgot to ask, “Truth or dare, Taeminnie?” 

He squealed as he almost always did when I called him by anything resembling a nickname. “Truth.” His voice was a gentle hum. 

My eyes broke from his just long enough to glance out at our garden before returning to the pleasure of staring at him until every detail of his perfect face was a permanent memory that I could sketch out on paper given a chance. I asked, “What were you doing out there by the rose bush that night before I sat with you?”

“Waiting for you,” he answered without a moment of hesitation, without a moment of surrendering to shame. “I noticed you out there once or twice when I should have been sleeping. I knew that you were lonely because you didn’t know that we were looking up at the same moon at the same time.” While I traced the ribbon around his wrist, he said, “It was my dream to show you— to make you feel that you’re not alone.”

Even if I achieved my goal of learning every language in the world, would I have ever learned the words with which to respond to something so beautiful? I don’t think so. I believe there are some moments when the only response can be silence. 

I almost wanted to ask how he knew that I would be out there on that particular night. I almost wanted to know how the flower he held had broken. I came close to asking if he held it together in his warm, soft hands long after it was unsalvageable because he hoped as much as I did that the universe had gifted him with the supernatural ability to mend gaping wounds with his touch. 

I bit my tongue, though, because the concept of fate enchanted me as a mysterious force that should not have to suffer through questioning. It was romantic enough to hear from Taemin’s mouth that we were brought together by the moon that I turned the page on those questions without regret. 

Taking my next drink of champagne, I again chose dare, hoping for another chance to kiss my Taemin’s lips after he made my heart flutter with his talk about the moon. 

Perhaps reading my mind or maybe wanting to feel my breath as much as I needed to feel his to thank the universe for the gift of the time together, Taemin said, “Kiss me for two minutes, please.” 

That time, when Taemin started his timer, I hoped that by some miracle or happy accident, the alarm would never send me back to my appropriate side of the couch. I wanted to melt into him, to lose myself in him. It didn’t matter if I should ever distinguish myself from him again. Here— with him— is where I am happiest. 

That time, when Taemin whispered, “My Lei,” against my skin, I didn’t cringe at the thought that I— all of me, every thought locked away in my mind, every fear hidden in the darkest corners of my heart— belonged to him. 

Maybe that’s not the best way to phrase it. Maybe I mean to say that I didn’t cringe at the thought that all of me, even the parts that I considered fruitless or dangerous or flawed, belonged with Taemin. I don’t know. 

Setting aside the semantics that certainly didn’t matter to me at the time, my heart stirred at Taemin’s whisper. I took both of his hands in mine and laced our fingers together as if that would forever tether me to the moment. 

Time ran out as it always does and always will. After Taemin silenced the alarm, I stalled in peeling myself away from him. As cliche as this sounds, I swear that it’s true: it was almost painful to be separated. 

Taemin noticed, or maybe he felt a pull toward me too. Swallowing champagne, he chose dare. He probably expected me to dare him to kiss me for as long as he wanted because I was tired of the alarm jolting us apart. 

I don’t know how to describe my excitement when he leaned forward onto his knees and laid beside me on my side of the couch. It was a burning sensation that crawled up from the tips of my toes, pooled in my stomach, spread from my chest to the fingertips that reached out to trace his smile, and heated every inch of my face.

I don’t know how long we kissed that time, but I know that there was no coherent thought in my head by the time Taemin left me with tingling swollen lips. Maybe he deprived me of too much oxygen. Maybe the alcohol caught up with me all at once as my pulse quickened with each of his lingering touches. 

Taemin swears that I was drunk on New Year’s Eve, but I can’t tell you for certain because I never felt like that— hot, honest, uninhibited, stuck in slow-motion— since that one night spent in his room. Because these memories embarrass me still, I have sworn off alcohol just to safely avoid circumstances that yield reckless choices. 

Almost laughing at my dazed open-mouth expression, Taemin wondered aloud, “What are you thinking about?” while running his thumb over my crescent moon earring that matched his. 

If he expected me to say anything profound, he must have been disappointed when I asked through bubbling giggles, “Do you think it’s physically possible for me to drown in your kiss?”

No disappointment was visible on his laughing face. If he wasn’t affected by the alcohol, I don’t know what his excuse was for muttering, “Let’s find out,” before fitting his lips with mine for the millionth time. 

I am bashful about relating these acts of affection to you. I am not in any way ashamed about having kissed Taemin. It’s just— you know that I don’t regularly engage in this sort of behavior. I never really considered that I would ever breathe in sync or move in sync with anybody before Taemin found me in that hour of loneliness in the garden. 

It didn’t come to me naturally at first— succumbing to that eternal pull toward him, the one who set me alight with his tender touch— but once the habit developed, I would never break it. Maybe I couldn’t even if I wake up one day and decide to try. 

Anyway, there is something inherently nerve-rattling about carrying what happens in the dark in the company of the stars into daylight. Sometimes, I wonder if I’m doing the right thing by telling you everything that happened after the rising of the moon, but I— I guess I want nothing more than to share my happiness with you. I guess I want you to know that happiness is him: Taemin, my star. 

After all the nights of narrowly missing Taemin’s lips, I suppose that the damn burst all at once with the bursting of fireworks. I don’t understand it. I don’t understand him, but I don’t have to understand Taemin to know that I am in love with him. That’s why I’m trying to stop seeing the world in the logical way I have tried to add and subtract everything else in my life. I accept that some things— some emotions— some people are not meant to be put into words. 

It’s beautiful that Taemin is one such person. 

Undoubtedly drowning in Taemin’s scent of roses, I broke from the kiss to ask, grinning from ear to ear like an absolute fool, “Do you think I could get drunk from this kiss?” 

And— I squirm at this memory— he said, “I think I already am.” 

The very words that almost make me cringe in hindsight washed over me like a stories-high wave that swept me to the shore where Taemin’s lips molded with mine again, still not tired, still not bored, still so sweet and gentle but not at all timid. He convinced me that I was made for this— I was made for him— and I think I still believe that now that I am sober and the sun has risen and, for a blink in the universe, he is not reading over my shoulder. 

I ruined what very well could have been a perfect knee-weakening memory by sitting up to suggest, “Let’s play strip poker!”

Taemin laughed out loud. He gripped his sides because they were splitting until he realized that I wasn’t joking. Likely rattled by my serious expression that contradicted the last several minutes spent giggling between kisses, he gasped. “Are you being serious?” 

I must have been intoxicated. Had I been sober, that suggestion would have been a joke or, at the very least, I would have had the wit to pass off a genuine (humiliating) desire as an absent-minded attempt at flirting. Instead, I nodded, reaching out to card my fingers through his hair. “I’m always serious, sweet Taemin.” 

“Sweet Taemin?” The broad smile that brightened his face now brightens my memories. Forcing his lips into an exaggerated pout, he said, “I don’t have cards, jagi, so we can’t play strip poker. I’m sorry.” 

“Darn.” I frowned, brow furrowing as I traced my fingers over Taemin’s lips that pervaded my every blurry thought. “Oh well. I don’t know how to play poker anyway.” And then, when I should have dropped the subject before any harm was done, I asked, “Can we play strip rock-paper-scissors instead, Taeminnie?” 

Taemin snorted. “Well,” he spoke in a soft hum that almost definitely meant no. 

Being more shameless in that moment than I had been in my entire life, I felt my eyes widen pleadingly. “Please, sweet Taeminnie?” My bottom lip poked out from my frown, and my hands pressed together as if to pray. 

He sighed, “Well, alright,” and then winked as if he planned to give me my way all along. 

I squealed and clapped my hands as I sat upright on my arm of the couch. After I gulped another unneeded mouthful of champagne, Taemin took the bottle and set it behind his side of the couch so I couldn’t reach it without straining. 

I wasn’t disappointed for long. Holding his fist out, Taemin wiggled his eyebrows. “Ready, jagi?” 

Giggling, I nodded my head until I was dizzy and the game commenced. 

It was fun at first because Taemin lost the first two rounds. I think he liked that I rolled my eyes and shouted, “Booooooooriiiiiing,” when he started by removing his black socks. Then, he laughed as air passed through my rounded lips— a poor imitation of a whistle— when he slowly unbuttoned his shirt. 

Lowering back onto the couch, Taemin was careful to sit straight so that I could see each of his muscles. “Like what you see?” He smirked as if the answer wasn’t evident from my unadulterated stare and agape mouth. Like it tickled, he laughed when I reached to poke one of the muscles protruding in his abdomen because (even then) I needed proof that he wasn’t just a dream. 

My winning streak didn’t last long. I was all too easy to beat, too compromised by alcohol and the mind-numbing sight of my boyfriend to even notice that I lost until he giggled. 

After I shrugged out of Taemin’s jacket, dropping and forgetting it on the floor, I lost again. Without shoes or socks to shed, I stood and almost gnawed through my cheek as I reached for the cold zipper at the base of my neck. For the better part of five minutes, Taemin just watched me struggle with the zipper. 

Maybe he thought I was stalling to remain clothed for as long as possible, but the truth— that’s too embarrassing to admit. Suffice it to say that, having suggested the game in the first place, I was not stalling.

When the sparkling midnight blue fabric fell at my bare feet, we both screamed. 

Standing before him in only a nude bra and a pair of skin-toned Spanx, too stunned by my own action to look away from his widened eyes, I stuttered, “I— I can’t do this. Or can I?” Glancing down at myself, blushing just slightly, I realized, “I guess I already did, so—”

“No,” Taemin said as he stood. Although his eyes were closed, he walked to me without stumbling and draped his discarded shirt over my shoulders. Once I fit my arms through the silky sleeves that hung past my fingertips, Taemin opened his eyes to button the shirt most of the way up. He avoided my bewildered gaze, saying, “I’m sorry. I was just playing around. I didn’t think that you would actually do that. I’m so sorry, Lei.” 

Because I couldn’t understand why he was apologizing when we had only played the game by its rules, I asked, “What’s wrong? Did I mess something up again?” 

I must have cried. I can still feel Taemin’s thumbs brushing my cheeks just under my eyes. I hate that. I hate that I lost all inhibitions. I hate that I cried in front of Taemin just because his solemn expression terrified me to the core. I hate that I had no choice in whether or how to express the emotions I would have preferred to hide.

“No,” he whispered before enveloping me in a hug that was probably supposed to prove that nothing was wrong. He pulled my bangs out of my face and brushed his lips across my forehead. “You didn’t mess anything up. It just— if we keep going, I think you’ll regret it in the morning. I never want you to regret anything you do with me.” 

“I wouldn’t regret it.” Suddenly too flustered, too ashamed to meet his eyes, I looped my arms around his waist and leaned forward to put my ear to his heartbeat.  What once had been slow, confident, unaffected by my proximity was now rapid, anxious, all because of me. 

“Please,” Taemin begged, “don’t say things like that when I’m trying to do the right thing.” 

Before I could continue to childishly argue that there was no reason to pace ourselves or resist each other if we wanted the same things, Taemin tightened his grip around my waist and pulled me flush against his warm body. He held me there in the silence for what felt like eternities before swinging me, as if I was as light as a feather, toward his bed. 

He sang, “Let’s go to sleep,” and smiled his smile that grew more familiar with each passing second. A beauty of my memories and my present confined no longer to photographs and my wildest dreams. 

He pulled back the plush white blanket to expose white sheets, and he tugged me along toward the head of the bed, where he collapsed against soft cloud pillows. 

“But I don’t wanna go to bed,” I whined, refusing to lay with him. “I’m not tired!”

Taemin laughed when I reached for the champagne bottle. His hand wrapped around my waist, tickling me through his shirt, and pulled me to the center of the bed so that my back pressed against his side. “Let’s cuddle, then. Come here and talk to me.” 

I mumbled, “That’s my favorite thing to do,” and rolled onto my side so I could see him. 

As I started to trace my name onto his chest with my index finger, Taemin chuckled. “What’s your favorite thing? Cuddling or talking to me?”

“Both,” I answered without hesitation. My eyes flickered up to his face. He was so beautiful that I had to tell him. “Do you know why?” 

“No.” Taemin shook his head, which he propped on the arm resting atop his pillow. “Why, jagi?”

“You’re my favorite person,” I told him plainly, “because you’re beautiful.” 

“I’m beautiful?” Taemin gasped like he never before received the compliment. 

“Didn’t you know?” I removed my hand from his chest to cup his cheek, which bulged under the weight of his sparkling toothy grin. “You’re so pretty, Taemin. You’re the prettiest person in the whole world. You’re prettier than the sun and the moon and all of the stars. You’re brighter than all of them, too, and I love you more than them and—” 

True to his earlier promise to silence me with a kiss whenever I ramble, Taemin used both hands to pull me atop him and, resting one hand at the nape of my neck, he brought my lips to his.

“This is my other favorite thing to do,” I confessed, looking down at him with a smile I hope rivaled the radiance of the sun. “I never want to stop kissing you.” 

Taemin breathed, “Then don’t,” so sweetly that I kissed him over and over again until the sun rose or my eyes fluttered closed in a deep sleep— whichever came first. 

My stomach didn’t knot at any of the night’s events until the morning sun broke through the window, unobstructed by blinds or curtains, and pried my eyes open with a dull headache. When my bare legs brushed against the fabric of Taemin’s dress pants, I flinched away from him, sat upright, and choked on a gasp.

I glanced at his sleeping form, barely getting to admire the half of his face that wasn’t buried in the cloud white pillow before my eyes zeroed in on the fact that his back— his entire upper body— was bare. 

He was shirtless and right next to me. I was pants-less (except for my shapewear) and right next to him. 

And in those few seconds before the previous night’s events came back to crush me under the weight of utter humiliation, I think my instinct was to run before Taemin could notice. I hate admitting that after I swore in champagne-induced honesty that I would regret nothing. 

A confession: I was not trying to run away from regret. I was trying to run from a terrifyingly unfamiliar sense of desire that I— well, just use your imagination or something. 

I swept Taemin’s jacket off of the floor and pulled my phone out of the pocket, only to be greeted with a wall of missed calls from Lucas. Because it wasn’t even nine o’clock and we had no set schedule, to say that I was worried that Lucas was awake— let alone blowing my phone up— was an understatement. 

I wasted no time in calling him back on my tiptoed sprint into Taemin’s bathroom. 

Lucas answered as I set to removing last night’s smudged eyeliner with a cloth I found in a cabinet. “Where are you?” he asked in place of ‘hello.’ 

While I had been cognizant enough pre-champagne to text Mom that I was crashing at the SuperM house— careful to exclude the part about sleeping in Taemin’s bed— I hadn’t thought to check in with Lucas. 

“The SuperM house,” I replied, sinking at the thought that he might have been worried about me. “Specifically, I’m hiding in my—” I was going to say ‘my boyfriend,’ but my mouth couldn’t quite form the word— “Taemin’s bathroom.” 

“Your Taemin’s bathroom?” From the wave-like inflection in Lucas’s voice, I could envision his wiggling eyebrows. I imagined that his bright, teasing smile faded into a frown before he asked, “Wait, hiding? What are you hiding from?”

I was hiding from the fact that I had woken up half-naked in bed with a half-naked Taemin. I was hiding from the truth that had he not drawn a line in the sand, had he not been the first to close the door, I would have given him everything. All it took was a little bit of champagne for me to lose all sense of dignity, and I— why couldn’t I regret anything? 

There was no way in hell I was going to say any of that to Lucas, though. Instead, I said, “I don’t want to wake Taemin while talking to you.” I was picking among truths. 

Lucas’s silence carried his belief that I was hiding something, but I clung to my secrets. “Why did you call me a million times?” 

“Oh yeah. That.” Lucas chuckled. “Heechul and Donghae—” 

At their names, the two men felt compelled to bicker within Lucas’s earshot. 

Lucas sighed, “Well, you’ll just have to come home to get a clear read on this situation.”

Eager for an excuse to race home before Taemin could see my scarlet cheeks and tempt me into lovesick decisions, I asked, “Do you need me to come home now?”

Lucas’s response was delayed. He probably knew that I was trying to run, so he took his time in carefully structuring his response. “I think Heechul and Donghae will still be here long after you spend time with Taemin.” 

As if stirred awake by the most recent utterance of his name, Taemin knocked on the door. “Lei, jagi, are you in here?” His voice was raspy with fatigue. 

“I’ll see you when you get home,” Lucas said before hanging up, leaving me to confront the tension that set butterflies ablaze in my gut. 

Setting my phone down on the counter, I told Taemin, “It’s unlocked.” 

When he walked through the doorway, I couldn’t look at him for long. He was still shirtless and much prettier now that he was awake and smiling at me. I couldn’t breathe. 

While my gaze averted toward the white marble counter, he filled the space behind me, wrapped his arms around my waist, and pressed a soft kiss to my temple. He stood so close that the warmth of his bare skin radiated through the back of my (his) shirt. 

“I thought you left,” he whispered, tightening his embrace, “before I could tell you again that I love you.” 

The intimacy of this entire scene— being this close to Taemin after sleeping in his bed, wearing only his shirt over my undergarments, having spent and continuing to spend time in this place that was neither a hotel nor my bedroom but his space— burned me alive. 

I said, “I love you too,” because I did even when I trembled like a leaf tempted to flutter away from the life-giving branch. 

Taemin must have sensed my anxiety. His touch softened as his hand reached my chin, urging me to meet our reflection. “Look at us,” he breathed, and my eyes opened. 

Our faces were swollen from sleep, and Taemin’s eyes were smudged by faint traces of makeup that he hadn’t wiped away the night before— the first night that he hadn’t prioritized his skincare routine— and my eyes were wide with some emotion that I can only describe as fear— but Taemin said, “We’re beautiful.” 

Then, I saw the gentle, angelic smile that curved his lips— the lips I kissed a million times to claim as mine— and I saw the spark in his eyes, and I felt the way his chest rose and fell against my back. I saw that the blush burning my face was a pretty rosy pink that matched the color spread across every visible inch of his skin down to the fingertips, and I saw that the same spark in his eyes was alight in mine, and I felt that trembling at Taemin’s presence was okay. Trembling in Taemin’s embrace was the appropriate, proper, natural response. 

He was right: we are beautiful. 

“I’m happy,” I told him in case it wasn’t apparent from my sigh as I melted into him. “You should be the first person I see every morning.” 

Taemin smiled before releasing me and walking to his cabinet. He returned to my side, offered me a toothbrush, and winked before brushing his teeth. “I usually am these days, aren’t I?” 

His wink made my stomach do somersaults. 

Tingling as I fit the toothbrush into my mouth, I shrugged. I thought long and hard before spitting into the sink and filling the morning air with the declaration, “I’m talking about forever, Taemin.” 

Taemin blinked at me so many times that I thought the suds from his facewash had fallen into his eyes through his thick lashes. When he continued blinking after his face was rinsed and dried, I clarified, bold in my convictions despite his silence, “You should be the first person I see for the rest of forever. Or at least that’s what I think. At least that’s what I want.” 

“I—” Taemin wheezed.

That’s when I started to panic: when Taemin fell into uncharacteristic silence. Leaning against the cold counter, I closed my eyes, rubbed my temples, and replayed all of our conversations. I knew that I hadn’t been the first to mention forever. Taemin was. Just last night at the party, just before he kissed me, he said that he would love me forever. 

Had that been a sweet nothing with which to fill the silence? I knew that a lot of people say forever without meaning it, but I— I never have. I thought Taemin was like me: someone who feels the weight of forever. I didn’t think that he would say something like that just to say it, just to hear it said back, just to make me fall in love with a fairytale illusion. 

I think I know enough of broken hearts to tell you that mine was shattered before Taemin wrapped his arms around me. His touch filled every void, healed every wound, and I knew how happy that rose was to have been held by him that night in our garden. 

“You made me so happy just then,” he whispered in my ear, “that I forgot how to speak.” 

Just like that, he mended and melted my heart. Just like that, he opened my eyes to his sincere smile, and I had to tell him, “You hold all of my heart in the palm of your hand, Taemin.” 

He told me, still in a whisper pressed to my ear, “You hold all of mine too, Lei. Forever.” 

Staring forever in the face didn’t seem so scary anymore. 

Before I could even try to comb through the bird’s nest on my head, Taemin tightened his grip around my waist and lifted me off of the cold tiled floor, not quite high enough to trigger my fear of falling. 

“Come on, jagi.” Once we stood in his bedroom, he motioned for me to climb onto his back. “ Let's make breakfast downstairs!”

Knowing well that— combined— Taemin and I had a total of about fifteen minutes’ worth of experience in the kitchen, I decided that it would be fun to visit unexplored territory with him. It would be like playing house, a game that hadn’t interested me since early childhood years in Grandma’s kitchen in Atlanta. 

My ankle healed almost entirely overnight, so I didn’t need Taemin to carry me. I think I never needed him to carry me in the first place, but maybe I wanted him to. Maybe I liked having romantic k-drama moments with him when nobody could see and laugh and point out that I looked out of place in such a scene. 

Because Taemin giggled loudly every time I dropped a kiss on his cheek, neck, or shoulders while descending the stairs, I didn’t hear any signs that Ten stood in the kitchen. Given that I was a guest in the SuperM house, I guess I should have been prepared to see another member at some point, but I would never have expected to see an outsider— a girl!

Before I hid my burning face in the crook of Taemin’s neck, I watched the girl trail her fingers down Ten’s arms, bare under his ruffled pink apron. I watched her long black hair fall over his shoulders as she tried to distract him from the sizzling stovetop with open-mouth kisses pressed to Ten’s jawline. All at once, I realized that both of them were almost completely naked. 

All I could think was that the girl, even though I couldn’t see her face, was stunning in the way that she carried herself without any degree of shame. 

Why couldn’t I be like that? Is shamelessness an inherent trait, or can one learn it and call it confidence? 

I stifled my surprised gasp against the skin of Taemin’s shoulder, but Ten must have heard anyway. He somehow must have turned his eyes away from the girl long enough to find me clinging to Taemin at the foot of the stairs. 

He said, “Hey, Lei!” in a bright tone that didn’t imply the embarrassment that would have seized me should anyone catch me in an intimate act with Taemin. “Have fun ringing in the new year?” 

Although I couldn’t bring myself to meet Ten’s teasing gaze, I knew that he believed that a scene similar to the one playing out in the kitchen had played out in Taemin’s bedroom. Too embarrassed to speak even to try to correct him, I kept my eyes fixed on Taemin’s back as I straightened my legs, relieved by his willingness to let me go. 

I hoped that Taemin was the only person who watched my dash through the front door, clad in only his shirt that— thankfully— reached my mid-thigh. 

“Goodbye,” Taemin called after me through laughter. I was glad that he wasn’t offended that I left without breakfast. “I’ll call you later!”

To my further humiliation, Ten laughed too. 

. . . 

Had I been thinking clearly, I would have entered the house through my bedroom window instead of running around to the front door, shivering in the cold. It’s a miracle that I was greeted only by Lucas, who was too busy scribbling on a piece of paper on the coffee table to notice me until I closed the door with a soft click. It’s a miracle that Mom, Donghae, and Heechul were too involved in their discussion in the kitchen to notice that I stood in the living room, cheeks painted red by the winter wind and the vulnerability of existing only in Taemin’s shirt. 

Rubbing at my temples, where a headache formed at Heechul’s sudden increase in volume, I groaned, “And here I thought we were finally at the happy ending.” 

Lucas’s brow furrowed. He chewed on his chapped bottom lip as if he hadn’t heard me. 

My frown was instinctual, a natural response to the absence of my best friend’s smile that accompanied every hello and brightened every day. “Are you okay?” My voice was gentle as I tiptoed to sit by his side. Reaching for the paper, the focus of his glare, I asked, “What are you drawing?” 

No matter how intently I stared at the list of names and lines and hearts penned in rainbows of crayon colors, I couldn’t make out any picture until Lucas replied, voice raspy from a lack of sleep— maybe he tried and failed to fall asleep during the Super Junior New Years Afterparty— “Our family tree.” 

At the top of the page was Mom written in pink, sandwiched between orange Donghae and red Heechul. Lines connected my name, a pretty shade of blue that reminded me of a daytime sky, and Lucas’s, a deep purple, to Mom’s to mark us as her children. Then, a line accented with hearts linked my name to Taemin’s, and almost illegible yellow, to define us as soulmates. 

Below my name and Taemin’s was an unfamiliar title: “Lucas Tue,” written in green. 

Cocking my head, I pointed to that foreign name. “Who’s that?”

The relief that overwhelmed me when Lucas broke his concentrated scowl to grin from ear to ear was shortlived. I choked on my breath when he explained, “That’s yours and Taemin’s baby! See how I wrote his name in green? That’s because he’s the perfect blend of you— blue— and Taemin— yellow!”

It was kind of cute that Lucas spent just as much time as I did (if not more) imagining a future with Taemin. 

Rather than reminding Lucas that there was no baby or insisting him that there wouldn’t be one for quite some time, I asked, “Is this supposed to be an alternate spelling of, like, Lucas 2? As in, you expect me and Taemin to name our child after you?” 

Lucas nodded eagerly. “I think it’s pretty clever. To make it less confusing, I propose we call the little ray of sunshine ‘Tue.’”

I blinked at Lucas, nearly on the verge of laughter. “If it’s really important to you, I’ll talk this over with Taemin, but my vote on this name suggestion is a resounding no.” 

The wide-eyed offended expression that dashed across Lucas’s face easily gave way to a goofy grin as he swung his arm over my shoulder and ruffled a hand through my knotted hair. He laughed in my ear. “Aw! You want a baby with Taemin!” He cheered so loudly that Mom, Donghae, and Heechul should have heard. 

I guess they didn’t, thank God, because none of them came barreling out of the kitchen. 

“Cut it out!” I blushed as I wiggled out of Lucas’s embrace, inciting more teasing laughter. I flipped over the family tree so it couldn’t fluster me further. “Why are you drawing family trees anyway?”

“I’m trying to make sense of the world around me.” Lucas shrugged, staring blankly at the SpongeBob episode playing on the television. “Donghae is Mom’s boyfriend, but Heechul is the one who’s almost always here for dinner and dramas. Now that they’re both competing for roles in Mom’s life, I’m wondering which one is our dad.” 

I gawked at Lucas. I was amazed by his genuine sense of confusion. 

“Neither is our dad,” I said, thinking that should have been obvious. Instead of reminding Lucas that Mom was my Mom like I probably did at the dawn of our friendship, I told him, “Family units don’t need strict clear cut roles, you know. All that matters is that we’re happiest when we’re together. Donghae and Heechul should realize that they don’t have to compete for a place in Mom’s life and ours by extension.” 

Lucas folded our family tree into a paper airplane as he considered my perspective. Pursing his lips, he conceded, “You’re probably right.” 

I tugged my knees toward my chest. Crossing my arms and laying my head against the bend of my elbow, I breathed in the scent of roses on Taemin’s shirt. My shirt. The shirt I would keep (probably) forever. 

“I’m almost always right,” I boasted, sending Lucas an uncharacteristic wink. I don’t know what was wrong with me. Happiness makes me weird. 

“Yeah, yeah.” Lucas rolled his eyes even as he grinned. His eyebrows pinched together as he gathered the fabric of my sleeve between his fingers. “Hey, where’d you get this shirt?”

The resurfacing memories — the memories that I admit never once sunk below the surface, if I’m entirely honest— of Taemin from that morning and last night and every night passed that he had stolen my heart piece by piece struck me speechless. I couldn’t explain that the shirt once belonged to him while my heart swelled in my chest, knotting my throat and stomach and everything in its path. 

While I struggled to breathe, Lucas’s eyes trailed down to my legs. His eyes nearly popped out of his head, and I almost wanted to laugh at his expression, but I was suddenly far too embarrassed to do anything but hide my face in my cloud-soft sleeve. 

“Lei!” Lucas shrieked in a whisper because he didn’t want to attract attention from our parental figures. “What happened to your pants?” 

All I said was, “Shut up, Lucas,” too mortified to meet his gaze. 

Rather than staying to endure his interrogation, which I knew even in the darkest depths of embarrassment was genuine well-intentioned curiosity, I stood, pulled the bottom hem of Taemin’s shirt as far down my thighs as it would go, and ran upstairs to my bedroom. Somehow, I went undetected by Mom, Donghae, and Heechul. 

Believe me: I appreciated that freedom while it lasted. 

Until I was alone behind the closed door, stepping into white pajama pants that were a little too big because they once belonged to Lucas, it didn’t occur to me that my silence might have been damaging to my reputation. Yes, I thought of my reputation even with Lucas. No, I really hadn’t changed from the paranoid principled person I had been at the start of this tale. I’m sorry. 

My silence implied that there was a scandalous reason why my dress laid on Taemin’s floor. Whatever scene Lucas imagined when I ran up the stairs was probably similar to whatever Ten imagined when he found me at the foot of the stars. 

I can’t tell you why I squirmed at that thought. I should have been comforted by the reality that a.) nothing that scandalous happened beyond eternal kisses and an embarrassing game of rock-paper-scissors and b.) I wouldn’t have taken it back for anybody if something that scandalous had happened beyond eternal kisses and an embarrassing game of rock-paper-scissors. 

But I wasn’t comforted. My stomach coiled with the realization that people thought I threw away every rule and reservation for Taemin. 

It was true. With ease, Taemin walked through every door, even the ones I swore I locked. He made me want to fall face-first into the sky, but you probably couldn’t tell from my forced grip around the safety rail, ever submissive to the fear of falling alone, still scared that he couldn’t catch me even if he fulfilled his promise to try. 

No longer consumed by the tension between Mom and Donghae because I could hear their laughter interrupting Heechul’s rant about who-knows-what, no longer distracted by the demands of the tour, my only thought was Taemin. And it wasn’t because we finally shared our first million kisses or because he was unashamed to lay shirtless by my side or because he set me on fire with his touch. 

Taemin pervaded every idle daydream because of those moments when he made me feel safe. Maybe all I ever wanted was security, and I found it in his steady heartbeat. Maybe I found it in the way his shirt hugged me and made my skin smell like roses. Maybe I could never let go. 

Maybe I hated that Ten could pervert pure love with his playful smirk. Maybe I never bothered to correct him by explaining that bond formed in the garden— which exceded the limits of all words anyway— for fear of misunderstanding or seeming as vulnerable as I had always been behind my mask. 

Maybe I was shy, and maybe I always would be, but there was— is— there is a part of me that wants to shout from every rooftop that I will be forever in love with Taemin because every moment is like that first in the garden. A part of me wants to tell everyone that everything else, every hand held and kiss shared and love-stained word whispered in the dark has been an act of gratitude because he saw me. 

Taemin saw me. Taemin loved me. 

And sometimes, I realize that I still don’t know how to thank him or God or fate or the universe or whoever I’m supposed to thank for miracles. 

I was contemplating this, my blooming garden of miracles, when Taemin’s voice filled my quiet room. “I have something for you, jagi.” 

My scream would have brought Heechul and Donghae racing up the stairs (likely bickering about who gets to obliterate the demon serial burglar who dared to burst through my window in broad daylight) had Taemin not silenced it with a long kiss as he climbed onto my bed, where I had been laying with my eyes closed. 

“Here you go.” He dropped a rose— the fragmented one from the party, which I must have forgotten somewhere again— onto my pillow. It landed by the crook of my neck and tickled my skin with its petals. 

“Thank you,” I smiled. 

Before Taemin could secure me in the embrace I never wanted to wake from, I walked over to my vanity. Catching my cheerful blush in the mirror, only briefly meeting Taemin’s gaze through the glass, I fit the rose into the vase with all of the others. “What about Baekhyun’s flower crown, my dress, and my heels?” 

“They’re in my room.” Taemin kicked his shoes off onto the floor and rolled onto his back to lay his head on one of my pillows. “I can only carry so much when I scale up the side of your house.” 

Something in his childish tone made me laugh as I crossed the distance back to him. “Noted, Taem. If climbing is such a struggle for you, why don’t you just come in through the front door?” 

It was impossible, unrealistic, the dream that we could ever love out in the open, but I think I wanted it. I wanted to live in the world where we didn’t have to watch our shadows, look around every corner, lock every closed door. I just didn’t know how to get there, and I couldn’t ask Taemin to lead me to a place that didn’t exist. 

Taemin winked. “Isn’t it more fun this way? Sneaking around like we have something to hide—” he sat up to whisper in my ear, unable to see the goosebumps that formed down my arms concealed by his shirt— “isn’t it exciting?” 

My face burned, but I didn’t shrink away from Taemin’s voice or the kiss he placed on my cheek as my gaze fell onto my hands pressed flat in my lap. Breathless because of his proximity, I was almost too bashful to admit in my faintest whisper, “Everything is exciting with you, my Taemin.” 

“Look at me.” His command was more of a desperate plea. 

When I couldn’t obey, not even to see his brilliant smile, because all of me was on fire, Taemin dropped to his knees before me as he had in one of our American hotel rooms once upon a time. 

It couldn’t have happened just a few months ago. A few months is too short to contain an infinity. And yet, my love for Taemin existed outside of time, perhaps owing to the years of admiring him as an idol from afar, or the decades of secretly dreaming that somebody like him existed and was bound to come my way on some unforeseen river rapid, or maybe— 

Maybe owing to the soul bond signified by the blue ribbon on his wrist. 

“Lei,” Taemin said my name so beautifully, “there’s no reason to be embarrassed. You can look into my eyes and call me yours because it’s true.” His hands cupped my cheeks like he expected me to burst into tears. 

I didn’t want to cry, though. I only wanted to smile. So I did. 

“Really?” I probably looked like a baby staring down at him with eyes blown wide with wonder, but I don’t mind. I don’t mind being vulnerable with him. “You don’t think I’m moving too quickly or being too clingy, or—” 

Taemin’s peel of laughter made me laugh too. He said, “Honestly, I think you should move as quickly as you want. You can be clingier. I told you, I like it when you’re like this. Do it more, please?” 

It was almost impossible to deny him when he looked at me like that, like I was his favorite part of the world. I crumbled. I fell a little deeper. I wanted to be anything he wanted, knowing that all he wanted was me unrestrained. 

I told him, “It’s hard to hold back from you.” 

Returning to my side to hold me even though the sun was casting its rays across our faces, he urged, “Then don’t.” 

But I— I had to hold some parts for myself, right? I had to keep some things locked in that internal box so they would be intact should a storm blow through and destroy everything or— worse— should he gather his things, including the pieces of me, to continue on his separate way. I— I had to at least be able to tell my future self that I tried to prepare for the worst. 

“Please,” I begged, reaching for the television remote on my nightstand to downplay my reference, “don’t say things like that when I’m trying to do the right thing.” 

I tried to ignore the ensuing silence and distract myself from Taemin’s stare by flicking through a thousand boring channels. 

Taemin didn’t react well to losing my attention. He moved to sit before me, deliberately blocking the television so that there was no choice but to meet his eyes despite the resurgence of butterflies. 

“So,” he laughed bashfully when I raised my eyebrows. His hand rubbed at the back of his neck. “You remember— um— that?” 

I nodded, blushing mainly because he blushed first. I picked at a button on my shirt. “I remember well enough to quote it.” 

All he said was, “Oh,” before he crawled back to my side and pressed his back to the headboard. 

I didn’t know what to say or what to make of his “Oh,” which was over too quickly to carry any tone with which to gauge his thoughts. Turning my gaze, which followed Taemin everywhere, to the television, I hoped (as always) that the tension would disappear— or at least stop growing— if I didn’t acknowledge it. 

It was like I hadn’t learned anything from my journey of self-discovery. And why? Because I was blushing? Was my hard-won strength really so fragile? 

No. 

Having outgrown foolish, childish coping mechanisms, I rolled my eyes at myself and admitted that it was unfair to leave all silences for Taemin to break just because I was afraid to accidentally shatter something that never should have been mine. I read once that progress isn’t always linear, so I kept that in mind when meeting Taemin’s eyes. 

He had gotten there first. He was watching me. Waiting for me. Quietly. Patiently. Maybe he knew that it was my turn to speak first. 

“I don’t regret anything that happened last night,” I admitted in one breath. “Maybe I should because I have never kissed anybody like that before, and I’ve definitely never taken my dress off in front of anyone before. I don’t know how much I should blame the champagne, but I know I acted like a fool. The problem— if you can really call it a problem, and I know you wouldn’t— is that I don’t mind being a fool for you.” 

If Lionel Ritchie and Diana Ross could sing that in “Endless Love,” then I could say it to Taemin. Or at least that’s what I told myself. 

Taemin beamed at my honesty as he always did. Sensing that it was safe to do so, he draped an arm over my shoulders and pulled me into his side. Normally, nobody lies to feel small, but I was comfortable sinking into his embrace. 

He said, “I don’t regret last night either,” apparently forgetting his apologetic efforts to get our night back on track after we screamed. “I never regret any moment shared with you. I kinda thought you were adorable, to be honest.”

“Adorable?” I scoffed through my grin. “You define things weirdly.” 

“Nuh-uh,” Taemin argued with the shake of his head. “It’s cute when you cling to me and tell me that you love me more than the sun, the moon, and all the stars. Adorable!”

Blushing at the restatement of my ramblings, I said, “I’m not arguing with you. Things like cuteness and beauty are subjective, so—” 

I was going to say that he just had weird taste by my standards, but Taemin interrupted. “Not this time! Objectively, my composed, dignified Lei is graceful— my emotionally expressive Lei looking up at the moon is beautiful— and my carefree, affectionate, drunk-on-kisses-and-champagne Lei—” 

Composed and dignified once more, if even for a fleeting second, I interjected, “I was not drunk.” 

But Taemin didn’t so much as dignify that with a pointed argumentative look. “You were precious last night. I was happy to see you without a worry in the world even if it was a once in a lifetime event I play over and over again like our first kiss or meeting in the garden or receiving your ribbon.” 

Oh, I smiled, so he revisits our memories too. 

Because I had been dying to know for as long as he wore my ribbon and I couldn’t remember if I was ever brave enough to ask, I seized the chance to wonder out loud, “Why do you love me, Taemin?”

I didn’t doubt him. At that point, I would have believed any beautiful lie he wanted to tell. I just— maybe this is vain, but I loved to hear what he thought of me spoken into the world. 

Taemin glanced away from his ribbon, which I traced with my free hand, or at our interlaced fingers— whichever he was studying— to fix all of his attention on my curious stare. His eyes didn’t widen in surprise; they crinkled joyfully like I had finally stumbled upon the question he longed to receive because he held the perfect answer. 

“Come close,” he said, feeling as I did that sitting hand in hand, shoulder to shoulder, was not nearly enough, “and I’ll tell you.” 

At his command, I leaned closer like I wanted to all along. 

A shiver ran down my spine when he whispered in my ear, “Beauty aside, you’re the gentlest spirit in the whole world. You always walk on your toes, and you look both ways before crossing the street, and you’re sensitive to every change in the wind, and you burn brighter than the sun, but you never try to mark anybody with your flame.” 

I hummed, perplexed that anybody could equate me, the girl who found her reflection on the moon, with something like the bold and beautiful sun. I didn’t argue with Taemin, though. I was too lost in his voice to find mine. I thought that his worldview was more beautiful than mine, and I imagined that by holding him and hearing him I could live in his world. 

Deep down, I think I always wanted to live by the sun. Maybe Taemin didn’t see me how I was— he definitely didn’t see me as I saw myself— but he saw me as I wanted to be. 

He continued, “You think you’re as mysterious as the moon and stars. Sometimes, I want to let you believe that because they’re your idols and I know why. It’s because they taught you how to shine in the dark. I understand, but— even if you’re a mystery to yourself and the people who haven’t been lucky enough to hold the sun— you’re not a mystery to me.”

“Taemin,” I wanted to say, but I couldn’t speak. 

“I see you clearly,” Taemin boasted, wearing this smile that was childlike in its beauty like seeing me in this figurative sense gave him an advantage over every other person in the world. “I always have. How could I not love you with all of my heart?”

“Taemin,” I finally breathed raggedly because his name was the only thing to say. 

Still, he wasn’t finished speaking. He could have talked forever, and I would have listened forever. He pointed out the window. Because he drew the curtains on his way in, I had to squint through the blinding light to find our garden off in the distance. 

“Notice how I told you all of that in the sunlight?” He tugged me closer and sat me between his legs, clad in black sweatpants, so that my back was pressed to his chest. Holding tight around my waist, almost squeezing the air out of my diaphragm because it wasn’t enough to steal my breath with his words, he laid his head on my shoulder and hummed, “We’re not a dream. We don’t melt or fade in the sunlight, so you don’t have to be afraid for the night to end anymore. I mean it when I say forever, and I don’t mind saying it again and again until that word doesn’t scare you.” 

“Taemin,” I breathed again. I was tempted to lie that I wasn’t afraid— which really wasn’t much of a lie when he held me. I almost wanted to tell him that I wasn’t afraid of a forever with him; I was afraid of anything less. 

Because there was no room in the air for my fears, I said neither of those things. Cutting my eyes at him, holding absolutely no malice or genuine desire for him to stop, I said, “You’re making my chest hurt. I can’t breathe when you talk like this.”

“Last night,” he reminded me with a smile and the subtle raising of his eyebrows, “you said that you love when I talk to you like this.” 

I did. I do. 

He would never forget anything that I said on New Year's Eve, and I wouldn’t either. I’ve read that major life events result in a new perspective on life. There is life before the incident, and then there is life after. The incident shines a new light on everything that happened prior, and the incident is woven intricately into the understanding of the present.

Giving Taemin my ribbon was one such incident. Crying with him in the garden was another. New Year's Eve, with all of its kisses and clumsy attempts at intimacy, carried the latest collection of incidents. 

True to who he had been since he started wearing the ribbon, Taemin didn’t stop pouring his heart out on me in overflowing portions just so I could catch my breath. He laid us down, holding me flush against his body so I couldn't shiver because of the winter wind blowing in through the open window; I couldn’t hide should the compulsion strike again; I couldn't mistake his sincerity; I couldn’t think to the future beyond his palms pressed to mine and his heart pounding with mine and his lips dancing with mine. 

I never thought that anything could better express the soul than words, poetry, a diary addressed to a most beloved friend, a metaphor, music, the piano, the violin, a voice in a foreign tongue that carries your darkest fears into the light that recolors them dreams, a lifelong glance at a sky of moon and stars, watching the sea run and return to the shore at the moon’s command, but Taemin’s kiss. Taemin’s kiss. 

It’s strange to say that I found more of myself there than anywhere else. Is that what it means to be soulmates? I don’t know, but I’m going to believe that the answer is yes even if that makes me a fool. Don’t tell me if I’m wrong or delusional or walking in a dream.

e.e. cummings was right: ‘kisses are a better fate than wisdom.’

My thoughts were tangled and blurred, but I remember thinking that I couldn’t breathe, but it would have been harder to breathe if he should ever go away. I remember sighing, relieved that we laid on my bed (that wasn’t nearly as cloud soft as his) because my legs were jelly and I almost certainly couldn’t stand. I remember thinking that this— being with Taemin— was what it felt like to fly. 

And I didn’t know how to stop— I didn’t want to stop— so I flew with him until the sun descended and the stars and moon, my old friends, ascended in its place. 

And that’s how Mom found us: impossibly close and still, still too far apart. 

[slinglouis]

september fic rec!

this one is coming at you all very late, but here are my favorite fics from august that i think you need to read this september! i read a TON of fics last month so these are the ones i absolutely loved! (**  my FAVORITE FAVORITES) 

mine would be you by crinkle-eyed-boo, 115k

Louis blinks his eyes open, his eyelids fluttering as the room swims around him. He takes several gulps of beer once he confirms that he’s definitely not hallucinating, that the very first portrait Harry Styles ever painted of him is hanging on that wall.

Louis stares at the wall, his heart jackrabbiting in his chest as he realizes that there’s not just one painting of him, there’s five, the portraits lined up like they’re some sort of storyboard depicting the rise and fall of his deepest love. His greatest heartache. A pain that cut him so deep that he left the fucking country, severing all ties with his life in New York, now suddenly surrounding him as if he’d never left.

Fucking shit motherfucker fuck.

Louis returns to New York City five years after he left it – and the love of his life – behind. He didn't intend to see Harry again, but fate has a funny way of pulling them together, whether they like it or not. After making a begrudging truce, they both start to wonder: Would it be so bad if history repeated itself?

robbers and cowards by louistomlinsons, 33k

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d almost think that you’re enjoying yourself.” The familiar voice immediately gets Louis’ blood boiling, shoulders tensing as he calmly spins around, trying not to draw any suspicion to the pair. “You don’t know me at all,” Louis spits, managing to maintain the polite smile he’s been wearing all evening. “You’re just some asshole who always ruins my nights.” “If I keep ruining your nights, why do you keep going home with me?” Harry asks, taking a sip from his own wine glass. “I don’t go home with you by any choice of my own,” Louis says. “I think you’re annoying and I have no idea how I keep ending up in your bed.” “You end up in my bed because you knock on my apartment door at two in the morning.” Louis wants to punch the smirk right off of his face. “Maybe you should move,” is what he says instead. or a modern day robin hood au where louis and harry (don’t really) hate each other but they hate greedy billionaires more

Need So Much of You by lululawrence, 47k

“Alright, I’m just going to get right down to it,” Jess said. “We were contacted yesterday by Harry Styles’ team with some information regarding his own schedule and promotion that is going to have some bearing on Louis.”

“Me specifically or all former members of the band?” Louis asked, confused.

“You specifically,” Jess said, looking at Louis with a heavy gaze. “Harry’s going to start his own promo for his second album in the coming months, which is going to include a coming out.”

“That’s great,” he said, nodding. “Is that it? Or is there more?”

Mark shifted in his seat and Louis watched his expression change. “We’ve discussed it and we think it would be best if you came out as well and had a promotional relationship with Harry for the album drop through both of your tours next year.”

Louis started laughing in surprise, but no one else joined in. Shit, they were serious.

Or the would-have-been canon compliant, fake relationship, friends with benefits, friends to lovers fic where Louis wonders if this thing going on with Harry is going to break him or change everything for the better.

waiting for the tides to meet by nauticalleeds, 60k **

Louis lets out a deep breath, thinking about Harry’s soulmate. Thinking about how Harry’s soulmate is probably as beautiful as Harry, some person that Louis cannot compare to, and how the universe has chosen them to be Harry’s. Fuck the universe. “Fuck you,” he calls out to the universe. He’s aware of how crazy he sounds.

Maybe he is crazy, with how he’s falling for Harry. And fuck that, too.

Soulmate AU. Everyone is born with heterochromia — one eye is their own eye colour, while the other is the colour of their soulmate's. It's only when they meet their soulmate for the first time that their own eyes match properly. After a hazy night at a frat party, Louis wakes up to blue eyes and the shocking realization that he had met his soulmate, without any sober recollection. Seven years pass where Louis comes to terms with the fact that he'll never know who his soulmate is. Then one fated summer, a beautiful green-eyed photographer arrives at Louis' workplace, with promises of endless laughter and a familiar feeling in Louis' heart.

Featuring a lovely cup of OT5, a road trip down the coast, and a scene where Harry eats a whole head of lettuce. Don't ask why.

Spirit to a Dove by alienharry, 97k **

For as long as it’s been on the air, Harry’s been an avid watcher of Trivialities. He’s always imagined what it’d be like to compete on the show himself, and when the opportunity arises, he’s fast tracked to join the new cast for the show’s eighth season.

Alliances are formed, strategies are planned, and Harry finds himself with his very own nemesis. Between trivia and physical challenges, Harry’s making the most of his time in the house, but nothing could’ve prepared him for Louis Tomlinson.

Stranger Stars by shaylea, 212k **

Five years ago, Africa offered a grieving Louis Tomlinson an escape from an England he couldn't tolerate. Now it's become home as he leads overland tours across the continent with his best friend and driver Zayn Malik. What's meant to be just another ordinary six-week trip from Cape Town to Nairobi turns into anything but, when future lawyer/current photographer and songwriter Harry Styles and his friends join Louis' latest set of passengers.

another hazy may by deLILah, 41k **

louis is a terrible poet and harry lives in the now and they have six weeks to fall in love but, really, it only takes six seconds. bookshop meets military meets summer romance au ft. marlboros, the backstreet boys, and underrated literary devices.

Anonymous Said by alivingfire, 21k

When Harry was sixteen, he reached out for someone, anyone, to help him through the hardest days of his life. When Louis was eighteen, he answered. While they didn't know each other's names or faces or lives at all, really, it didn't stop them from falling a little bit in love.

And when Harry moves to Manchester for uni two years later, he meets a boy in a bookshop named Louis and wonders why it all feels so easy.

Or: two boys, two blogs, two years of anonymous messages, and a bookshop where it all comes together.

kiwi by fondleeds, 24k

With a stuttered mixture of a laugh and a groan, Harry lets his head droop, pushes his forehead against Louis’ chest and leans into him, fingers curled around the railing.

"You’re driving me crazy,” he breathes.

Louis lets out a puff of laughter, and when Harry lifts his eyes, the look in Louis’ gaze is one he knows too well, so distinctively coy and mischievous and gently charming, his lips quirked up with a smirk. Harry’s heart falls into the palms of his playful hands. “You’re into it.”

AU. Harry plays on Saturday nights at The Motley. Louis bartends on Saturday nights at The Motley.

It’s a thing.

True Love’s Gold by alivingfire, 28k

Gemma starts responding to every single one of Harry’s texts—regardless of subject—with i don’t care, talk to louis. Liam lets Harry complain to him for hours on Skype, pretending he’s not doing other things while Harry whines about his problems. Niall thinks the whole thing is hilarious, texting Harry links to articles titled So, you want your man to propose? and 15 ways to get him ready for the aisle! and follows each of these up with page upon page of laughing emojis. Harry tries everything, literally everything he can think of short of grabbing Louis by tattooed forearm and yelling, “PROPOSE TO ME BEFORE I COMBUST.”

Or, it takes a village to arrange a proposal, but that doesn't mean it's going to go as planned.

When It’s Late At Night by Rearviewdreamer, 26k

Louis has zero interest in an ex-boybander turned solo artist when his appearance on the show gets announced, but that's exactly who he gets stuck with when Harry Styles shows up at the Late Late show to promote the release of his debut album. For an entire fucking week.

you’ve set on me by lissome, 31k

Harry’s been completely blindsided, is the thing. Like a car without headlights crashing into him. It’s not that he thought he’d never see Louis again in his life. It’s just this. He wasn’t ready for this.

au. louis' in an obscure band. harry's an international popstar. their paths aren't meant to cross, not like this, but when louis' band signs on as harry's opening act, both harry and louis are forced to confront the open wounds of their shared past.

[ethospathoslogan]

there will come a poet: chapter seven (a vampire sanders sides fanfiction)

A/N: story of my life, this chapter was supposed to be longer!! but, not only was i getting antsy to post a chapter, but what you’re about to read became a lot more narratively important than originally planned and, because what’s coming next is fairly dramatic, i wanted each moment to stand alone!!!

ALSO this is something i should've been doing from the prologue, but i have to give a huuuuuuge thank you to my friend bee ( @bumblebeekitten )!! she has been beta-reading this fic for me from the start, and has been the one hearing out my ideas, helping me piece together the plot, and giving me ideas as well!!! this fic would literally not be what it is now without her and, for that, i must give her all my thanks and love <3

summary: Virgil finally looked back down at him. “Why do you like the rain?”

ships: moxiety stans come get ur slowburn juice (also eventual logince)

WC: 1,976

content: light death mention

read on ao3

masterlist

spotify playlists

taglist: @iwillsithereandtrytocontribute , @glitchybina , @ab-artist , @daring-elm , @crazydemigod666

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On Patton’s fifth morning in the Anguine Kingdom, it was raining.

It took a moment for him to realize it as he drowsily looked out the window in his room but, as he watched the rain drops drip from the canopy above and could just catch the sight of grey clouds through the gaps in the leaves, his heart surged.

He loved the rain.

Grabbing his cloak, he quietly made his way out of the guest corridor and through where the brothers rested. As he was walking down the stairs, he only faltered momentarily when he found Virgil already sitting on one of the cushioned benches in the parlor, his dark eyes trained on the rainy skies as well.

And then, Patton smiled and continued down the stairs.

“Morning, Virgil,” he said, his voice soft as he came up beside him.

Virgil, looking up at him, gave him a small smile. “Oh, hey Patton.”

Patton sat on the other end of the bench. “I didn’t expect to see you down here,” he said. “Thought you’d be sleeping.”

Virgil chuckled. “I could say the same to you.”

“I’m just an early riser!”

“And I barely sleep.”

“I can see that!” When Virgil gave a shrug, Patton giggled. “But are you enjoying the weather, too?”

“Oh-” Virgil looked back out the window “-Uh, just thinking, really.”

“About what?”

A hesitation. “Nothing important.”

As Virgil kept his eyes on the rain droplets tapping against the window, Patton took it as a sign to not push the subject.

So, instead, Patton looked out the window as well.

“I love the rain.” He put a finger to the window and followed a raindrop as it travelled downwards.

Virgil moved his gaze to Patton. “You do?”

“Always have.” He smiled. “Back home, I always liked to go outside when it rained. Well, more like sneak out because, you know, princely duties, but Logan always covered for me!”

Virgil laughed slightly. “Didn’t take him for the renegade type.”

“He has a little rebellion in him!” Patton laughed, too. “Just don’t tell him I told you.”

“Secret’s safe with me,” Virgil said with a smirk.

Patton beamed.

Virgil then cleared his throat, looking back out the window. “Do you want to? Go outside, I mean.”

“Oh! I- I was planning to, but if I can’t or-”

“You can if you want. You’re not trapped.” Virgil hesitated before adding, “I mean, if you’re uncomfortable or anything, I can go with you…”

Patton smiled. “I’m not uncomfortable,” he said, “But you can still join me. If you want.”

“Oh-” Virgil scratched the back of his neck “-Uh, yeah.”

“Great!” He then stood and offered his hand out to Virgil. “Shall we?”

Virgil eyed his hand. “You haven’t seen much of the capital city, right?”

Patton shook his head. “Other than the Wall? Not really.”

“Well-” Virgil took Patton’s hand and pulled himself up. The sudden flush to Patton’s cheeks distracted him enough from the coldness of Virgil’s hand. “-I can show you around. Won’t be as nice as it once was, but...”

“I don’t mind,” Patton said with a smile before remembering to take his hand away.

As Virgil opened the large castle doors, Patton relished in the cool morning breeze that blew in. The summer air was tempered by the gentle rain and Patton, equally calm, stepped out onto the stone steps.

“It’s beautiful out,” he said softly, looking out at the capital city down below before back at Virgil, who still lingered in the doorway. “Don’t you think?”

Virgil stared up at the canopy, still shrouding the kingdom in shadows but occasionally breaking through to grey clouds. “I guess.”

As Virgil stepped up beside him, Patton looked back out at the kingdom. “I think the trees are giving us some shelter,” he said. “You can hear how hard the rain’s hitting the leaves.” He breathed in deep. “It’s… calming.” 

Still, though, he gave an exaggerated frown as the raindrops blurred his glasses. Pushing them up on his head, holding back his curls from sticking to his forehead, he turned to Virgil and smiled. 

“You ready?”

Virgil’s eyes passed over his face before he sharply looked forward again. “Try not to trip,” he mumbled.

“I’ll do my best!” 

As Virgil led him down the spiralling steps (with Patton being extra careful to not slip on the stone), he said, “I don’t- I don’t have an actual tour or anything like that. If Roman was here, he’d probably have more to say. Might surprise you, but he was our, uh, socialite.”

Patton giggled. “Never would have guessed,” he joked. “But were you super busy? You know, back then?”

“Not really,” Virgil said, shrugging. “Just… didn’t go out a lot. Still know the kingdom, though.”

Patton nodded. “I don’t need a tour anyway,” he said. “I’m just happy out here!”

Virgil chuckled. “I can tell.”

When they reached the courtyard, Patton pointed down one of the side paths to the right that lead to the Vine Wall. “I’ve been there, and that’s about it!”

“Then let’s try to make things interesting,” Virgil said, and led Patton to the left.

The main thing Patton noted about the kingdom was that it was quiet. Always quiet, and always still. It was a small kingdom already—mainly consisting of a large capital city—and, after all this time, it seemed more like the brothers had come second to the foliage. Ivy clawed up the walls of the dilapidated buildings, and those closer to the Wall had been taken over by the vines as well. Most of the paths and stonework had become overcome by roots and weeds, and Patton had to watch his footing to make sure his feet didn’t snag.

“What was it like?” He asked after a couple minutes of walking. “Growing up in the middle of the forest.”

“Quiet. Isolated,” Virgil answered. “The Anguine Kingdom has been here for almost three centuries, but-” and he vaguely gestured to the city around them “-we don’t really have a lot to work with. I guess we could’ve tried to make villages farther out but, I don’t know, we did just fine with our capital city. For the most part.”

Patton worried his bottom lip, nodding. Before the climactic battle and the fall of the Anguine Kingdom, they had been a source of trade and commerce for the Hartt Kingdom. Even for a smaller kingdom, almost miniscule compared to the Hartt capital and all its attached villages, the Anguine Kingdom was once pivotal.

And then things changed, and the Hartt Kingdom adapted.

Patton kept his mouth shut about that, though.

“Did you like living out here?”

Virgil shrugged. “It was fine,” he said. “Again, didn’t really go out much.”

Patton nodded. He hesitated before saying, “Can I ask why?”

The Hartt legend said that the fourth son—that Virgil —hid away inside the castle because of the prophecy surrounding his birth, that the Queen’s death and the darkness that followed were only omens for worse things to come.

Patton found himself wanting to know Virgil’s side of it.

“It was just better for everyone if I… stayed away.” Virgil looked down, his steps slowing to a halt. “I’m not really… good company to have.”

Patton stopped in front of him. “I think you’re doing just fine.”

Virgil huffed out a dry laugh. “What about your legends? What do they think?”

Patton frowned. “That’s the past.”

“Is it?” Virgil arched an eyebrow. “You don’t know me like everyone else did.”

He took a step closer. “Well, what if I want to know who you are now?”

“There’s no difference,” Virgil said, crossing his arms.

“But… I think there is,” Patton pushed, his tone gentle. “I can’t… change things, what you think or- or what the past says but… I know what’s in front of me.” A pause. “I know you’re not as bad as you think.”

Virgil scoffed, sharply looking away. “Figured all that out so quickly, huh?”

Patton bristled. “I’m just telling you what I see!”

“Well I don’t see it!” Virgil, exasperated, dragged a hand through his hair. “Don’t think I don’t appreciate you trying but- but this has been my life for a hundred years! I…” He trailed off, shaking his head. His dark bangs clung to his forehead and, once again, he shoved them out of the way. “I’m sorry, it’s just…”

Patton bit his bottom lip. “Just what?”

A hesitation.

“I want to believe you,” Virgil finally said, quiet. “That there’s something-” He gestured to himself “-Here but… people get hurt when they’re around me, and that’s a pretty fucking hard thing to just forget about. If you stick around, and something happens...”

Patton frowned, tugging at the edges of his cloak. “But can we just make decisions on… what-if’s?”

“Patton,” Virgil warned, “You don’t know what you’re getting into.”

“What if I want to?”

The air in between them was suddenly still.

Whatever Patton was getting into, the way his heart hammered against his chest made it feel like he was falling.

Virgil’s voice was low as he asked, “You don’t give up easily, do you?”

“Sorry,” Patton whispered.

“Don’t be.”

Patton’s eyes widened as Virgil looked up at the sky, shutting his eyes as the rain dripped onto his forehead. 

For a moment, the silence between them felt like it would last an eternity.

“I hated the rain when I was a kid,” Virgil finally said. “My mother died the day I was born, and it stormed so badly for the next month that everything—farming, trade, commerce—plummeted.” He paused, his hands clenching. “A bad omen, you know? Cursed, even. And, after, it’s not like things were suddenly fine. I can’t just… ignore the signs.” 

“You said you used to hate the rain,” Patton said quietly. “What changed?”

Virgil shrugged. “I grew up, maybe. Got used to it.”

Patton’s heart cinched.

Virgil finally looked back down at him. “Why do you like the rain?”

“Virgil, if you’re uncomfortable or- or sad, we don’t have to talk about this...”

“No,” Virgil said, shaking his head. “I- I want to know.”

Patton studied him for a moment longer. “Well,” he began, and couldn’t help but smile, “Because our gardens always looked best after the rain. Because it was the best time to try and catch frogs out by the pond. Because we had this huge weeping willow tree that was just so peaceful to sit under. It always felt like the world just paused. The rain makes it easy to… breathe, and just be. I think the rain refreshes us… takes the weight off the world’s shoulders for a little while.”

Virgil stared at him for a long time.

And then, finally, his lips turned up into a small smile.

“Not what I expected,” he said.

Patton laughed sheepishly and rubbed the back of his neck. “I just really love the rain.”

“It’s… different.”

His smile fell. “Is that bad?”

Virgil quickly shook his head. “I- No, it isn’t. I… I like it. It’s new.”

“Well,” Patton said, his smile returning, “New can be fun. Good.”

Virgil nodded, glancing away before meeting Patton’s eyes again. “I guess I’ll try to take your word on it.”

When the pair were finally walking back to the castle, the rain starting to come down a little harder, Patton instinctively gasped as his foot snagged a root and, even with his glasses on top of his head, he could see that the forest floor was coming in fast, and-

And Virgil immediately caught him on the forearm, his grip cold yet secure.

“Thanks,” Patton said, blushing as he looked up at Virgil.

Virgil raised an eyebrow. “Told you to be careful.”

He grinned. “Well, it’s good that you were here, then!”

Virgil faintly smiled, too, as Patton righted himself, before both continuing on their way.

[royal-shawn]

Can I Get The Special?

anon said: Girl I LOVED Crossroads (and Werewolf!Shawn)! That seriously made me so emotional. You write angst in a way that it slowly creeps up on you and then crashes over you like a wave. You're so talented!!! Could I request something? Maybe like some people on social media have been making rude comments about your relationship with Shawn since you've gone public and you're really hurt? Maybe like some angst with a fluffy ending?

The last few months have been a whirlwind of events, starting with the coffee shop.

“Excuse me miss, could I get your special today?” A voice asks from behind me. 

I look at the menu, scanning for what I want. 

There’s a tap on my shoulder. 

I spin around and come face to face with Shawn Mendes. 

“Can I have the special?” He asks, motioning to the chalkboard. 

“Oh, I’m sorry, I don’t work here.” I look around. “I could order you one, Chad is over there.” 

“You don’t work here, of course. I’ll get mine own coffee and I’ll get you one too, I’m sorry for the inconvenience.”

I smile.  “It’s fine, I don’t need the free coffee, I have a VIP card here.” I pull the poorly written sticky-note out of my pocket. ‘Free coffee pass’ 

Shawn shakes his head. “It’d make me feel better if you’d let me buy you a coffee.” 

I laugh softly. “Okay.” 

And we sat together in a booth, the taste of coffee on our tongues as we laughed - I went home with the number of a celebrity that night.

After that day, coffee never tasted the same, it lost it’s bitter and taste and was replaced with sweet nectar. Shawn made it clear that his tour bus broke down a mile out, and the mechanic here was working on it, he was in town for a few days, choosing to spend them at my side, like now.

Shawn and I stood in the bathroom of his condo, brushing our teeth. It’s our third sleepover, and he’s looking forward to the Instagram Live I promised him. I throw my hair up and look at myself in the mirror. “Should I put on some makeup before this whole ordeal?” 

“No, we’ll go to sleep after, you look plenty beautiful like that.” He smiles, kissing my temple.

I smile up at him, pressing a kiss to his lips. “Can we just get this over with?” 

That Instagram Live introduced me to the world, bare-faced, like a rebirth into a new place. 

Except this place is not a good one. It took two crazy fans five minutes to find my Instagram, my Twitter, and my Snapchat and leak them into the world. 

It was nice to shut off my phone and sleep the night away next to Shawn. 

I woke up with a phone filled with tweets and Instagram comments, either supporting me or being petty. 

I smile when Shawn grabs my phone from my hand and puts it on the other side of him. “Can we just cuddle without the world?” 

“Yes, we can.” 

A day and a half later, I get home from work set my bag on a stool and open up my phone. 

The notifications on both my Instagram and Twitter were well into the thousands and I hadn’t had a chance to see what they’ve been saying. 

A quick look at my notifications and mentions, and see the overwhelming sweet and kind things the fans have to say. I tap on my dms and the nasty things come to light. 

‘Next time Shawn and you do a live, maybe put a little bit of concealer on? you looked like a corpse.’

‘Shawn’s out of your league, he’s successful and you will never amount to anything.’ 

‘hope you’re happy holding shawn back.’ 

A text dings from my phone. ‘Surprise, I’m coming over with pizza and wine.” - Shawn

I realize my hands shaking while I text back. ‘I look gross.’ 

‘like a goddess* im already on the way, see you in a few.’

I don’t reply, but go back to Instagram, the harsh comments like a car accident and I can’t look away. 

‘surprising how even makeup can’t even fix your face.’

I check one last one. ‘i’m gonna be brutally honest there okay? you’re probably sweet or something but I have no idea what shawn sees in you, you talk to much on your snapchat, you aren’t original, and not very pretty, i personally think you should break up with him, it’s for the better of him and his career.’ 

I bite my lip, my hands shaking even more now, she’s right, Shawn deserves so much more than just me. 

The door of my apartment open and Shawn walks in a box of pizza with two bottles of cheap wine on top. “The convenience store only sold these and I was not about to go seek out fancy wine.” 

“We should break up.” I blurt, shutting off my phone.

“What!?” He turns to me, moving the pizza box to the countertop. “Why? What did I do?” 

“It’s not you, it’s me.” I murmur, a tear slipping out of my eye. 

He looks confused. “What about you?” 

“I’m not good enough, I won’t amount to nothing and-” I suddenly can’t breathe, and I clutch my chest, heaving in air that doesn’t reach my lungs. 

“Hey.” He walks over and grabs me, moving me to the couch. “Breathe with me, okay?” He starts breathing slow and steadily. 

I try and copy, my breath hitching as I start sobbing. 

He holds me in a hug, rocking me. “Breathe sweetheart, breathe.” 

I breathe and cry into his shirt until I can’t anymore and I’m just hiccuping. 

“What’s wrong?” He asks. “Why do you want to break up?” 

“I don’t but it’s better for you to be alone.” I stutter out, looking up at him. “I shouldn’t hold you back, it’s like clipping an angel’s wings.” 

“Y/N, where did this come from?” He asks, softly. 

I point at my phone, which he grabs and unlocks with his fingerprint. 

He sighs after a bit. “I wish they wouldn’t do this.”

I swallow my tears and grab my phone. “They’re right, I work as a secretary and you’re a celebrity.” 

“To them, I’m Shawn Mendes but, to you I’m just Shawn, you don’t have to live up to their standards because you met mine.” He starts. “You are beautiful with and without makeup, and you are the sweetest girl I ever met, so please don’t break up with me because I will write a million hate songs to my fans if you do, and I’ll write millions of songs about you, too.” 

“You’re a poet and you didn’t even know it.” I sniffle smiling. “I won’t break up with you, I love you too much.”

He presses multiple kisses around my face. “Don’t ever get upset over what they say, they have no clue what I feel for you.” 

I nod. “Okay, I promise.” 

We cuddle on the couch until I fall asleep. 

I wake up and Shawn’s gone, but in my mentions is a message.

shawnmendes: just gonna say, please stop sending hate to Y/N she deserves the world, and you might just have to stick around to see it. 

[alarriefantasy]

                        Famous Louis / Non-Famous Harry

We Had Everything by lightswoodmagic (sarah_writes)

Words: 2k

Or, Louis and Harry fell apart, and Louis' never forgiven himself. He gets a second chance at Zayn and Liam's wedding.

A Beginning by SexyAsswoMan

Words: 5k

Where Harry was in love with a poet, and the stranger that sat beside him on a poetry session had eyes that looked like the sea.

Feels Good on My Lips by phdmama

Words: 8k

When Niall harasses Harry into returning to Vermont for their fifteenth high school reunion, Harry is really not sure he wants to go. High School wasn't the most fun for him, but when it turns out that Louis Tomlinson, his former best friend and current star of the silver screen is going to be there, Harry agrees. The road to reunion is never easy.

Wearing Nothing But Your Kiss by dinosaursmate

Words: 10k

Harry gets stuck in a lift with that actor with the incredible arse and tries to remember how to function as a human being.

The One Where Harry Really Doesn't Have Ten Catsby by LoadedGunn

Words: 10k

Or, the AU where Harry is a pet-sitter for the rich and famous, and Louis is rich and famous.

Come As You Are by AFangirlFantasy

Words: 12k

Highschool Reunion AU where Harry is Niall's flatmate, Zayn and Liam are married, and Louis is just trying to find his way back home.

A Few Very Good Mistakes by louisandthealien

Words: 12k

Louis falls asleep in Harry's bar. Harry takes him home to hang out.

Leap of Fate by happilylouie 

Words: 12k

Or Radio Show Host Louis Tomlinson is going to be the father of Harry Styles’ baby, the only problem: He has no idea.

What do you mean he's coming? by MediaWhore

Words: 15k

When Harry accepted to be his sister’s Maid of Honour, despite how non-traditional of a choice he was, he didn’t think writing a speech for the wedding reception would be this hard. Now, not only does he have less than two weeks left to find something moving and inspirational to say, but Gemma just confided in him that her old childhood best friend is going to be in attendance. The one who moved to LA and they haven’t seen in fifteen years because he was too busy becoming an Academy Awards winner. But hey, no pressure. It’s just Louis Fucking Tomlinson.

Harry is screwed.

Then We Talk Slow by letsjustsee

Words: 20k

A famous/non-famous AU in which Louis banters back and forth with his new record company on Twitter, only to find out that Harry is the man behind the tweets.

Ain't That A Kick In The Head! by lesbianharrie, wreckingtomlinson

Words: 22k

In which Harry’s a disaster gay who doesn’t know shit about soccer, Liam drinks too many blue raspberry Coolattas, Niall knows everyone, Zayn looks dead, and Louis is Not Happy about sharing his breakout moment with “Drunk Hawaiian Guy.”

Part 1 of disaster harry

You Make It Easy by Rearviewdreamer

Words: 26k

Harry has dreamed of a career in the lighting industry for years. Those dreams only become bigger and brighter when he’s hired to work on Louis Tomlinson’s first solo world tour. At the end of the day, he ends up getting more than just an amazing job out of the deal.

Take Me Back to Where We Started by amory

Words: 27k

Starring Harry as the petty ex, Louis as the new James Bond, Niall as a boy genius and fake boyfriend extraordinaire, and Liam and Zayn as two friends just trying to make it out of this weekend alive.

Far From The Tree by AlwaysAqua

Words: 28k

Or, Harry and Louis have been best friends since diapers (twenty-some years ago) and somewhere in the middle of Harry always picking up the mess that Louis' father has habitually left in his wake, Harry accidentally fell in love.

everything comes back to you by amory

Words: 29k

Louis and Harry, best friends since before either of them can remember, broke up four years ago. Louis has achieved his dreams of becoming the next big thing while Harry has stayed back, dedicating himself to his studies. Both are content to forget what they had together, until a tragedy brings them right back into each other's lives.

Saved Tonight by objectlesson 

Words: 30k

Harry is the world's most persistent seduction-baker, a questionable dog-sitter, and Louis's biggest fan. Louis hasn't written in years, is trying to pass loneliness off as cynicism, and absolutely hates his fans. It's probably destiny.

This Ain't Just a Thing That You Give Up by lululawrence 

Words: 34k

The one where Harry is a baker in addition to being a college student who just happens to meet the crazy famous Louis Tomlinson while on spring break. Featuring personal assistant!niall, roommate and best friend!liam, and costar/model!zayn.

I Think You're Already Home by jaerie

Words: 38k

Seeing Louis Tomlinson today, it would be hard to guess that he was ever once a member of the world's most famous boyband. These days he doesn't even the leave his own house. The truth is he can't leave his own house. He can't even remember the last time just standing at an open door didn't send him into a debilitating panic attack. But, against his friend's advice, Louis is ready to add meaning to his life again. He's ready to start a family. So what if he doesn't have an omega? There are plenty of surrogacy services just waiting to help the rich and famous become parents. He just has to find the right one for the job.

baby blue by soldouthaz

Words: 39k

Harry Styles takes his time coming out to greet them. Louis only knows what he’s seen on file and what he’s heard them talking about, but he fully lives up to the image he had inside of his head.

He saunters down the front steps of the farmhouse in his Levi’s, brown snakeskin boots curving out from underneath the denim Louis’ sure he had specially made. He’s got on a plaid button-down tucked into the jeans because of course he does, curls spilling out from either side of his cowboy hat around his sunglasses and country-tan skin.

“Harry Styles,” he drawls, extending a hand to Louis’ manager, “Pleased to meet ya’ll.”

We Got The World Shaking by FutureMrsHaroldStyles

Words: 39k

Or the one where Harry goes into heat at his best friend Lottie's birthday party and her big brother helps him out.

shine by togetherwecouldbealright

Words: 40k

Louis is an actor who needs to get away from the real world. He does the only thing that he can and runs away, finding himself in a small town where he happens upon Harry. What Louis doesn't expect is to somehow fall in love and end up having to face what he was running from all along.

Safe and Sound (You'll Always Be) by Rearviewdreamer

Words: 58k

When a failed case and a guilty conscience leaves Harry more than a little lost, his boss presents him with a new, less taxing assignment to help him cope. An escape from all the madness is just what Harry needs to get his life back on track. It's just too bad his new client has a grin like the devil, a pair of electric eyes that Harry simply can't get over, and no intention whatsoever of letting him catch a break.

Now In A Minute by thealmightyavocado

Words: 150k

Or the 13 going on 30 au that should have been done years ago.

Let Me Be Your Star by lovelarry10

Words: 252k

Louis Tomlinson has always wanted to mentor young musicians. When he’s asked to be a judge on The X-Factor, it’s a dream come true, everything he ever wanted. What he didn’t expect was to meet a curly-headed stranger that would turn his life upside down

♡ credit to the owner of the manip

♡ past themed recs here

♡ updated 3.31.21

[min-serah]

Someone to Inherit

Xiumin/ Kim Minseok x Reader

Genre: idk rn will be angst and fluff and some other stuff (I’m a poet and I didn’t even know it) ((lol someone stop me))

Chapter 1:

Perhaps one of the most important transitions you would ever have to make, your first day at Sudoxe Academy was undoubtedly nerve racking. You had said your goodbyes to your friends at your previous school, promising to text your two best friends Ha-eun and Yong-hwa as soon as you settled into your new life. Despite this promise, somewhere you knew that being able to travel between social circles would be next to impossible. Still you had to try, right?

           As you walked up to the front of the school you could see all of the other heirs being dropped off in their luxury foreign cars by butlers and maids. You continued to make your way in through the front gate, determined to start off your new life with your head held high.

           This was the plan until you felt a strong force below your feet knock you off balance.

           “Ouch!” You had landed flat on your butt. Thinking that it was one of the heirs trying to test your temper you had settled your mind in that second to only ask that they stop testing out their gifts in the school’s plaza. But when you turned around to face the aggressor what you saw was more than just a prank on you.

           Behind you laid the remnants of the gateway and plaza, and by the street you saw a boy at the center of the destruction. He seemed a bit taller than you but his eyes seemed downcast and angry. It was just then that he began to back away as others began yelling at him.

           “This school doesn’t need your kind! Get out, Freak!” one heir yelled as another grabbed the boy by his collar.

           “The only reason you are even here is because our parents donated too much and the academy decided to use the extra funds for a PR stunt. So don’t go thinking that you are on the same level as us, got it?!” With that the heir threw the boy to the ground and stormed off, the other students following after him.

           Without thinking you walked up to the boy as he sat on the ground almost in tears.

           “Are you alright?” You asked as you extended a hand to him

           For a moment, he looked at your hand as if it were a joke. That was until he saw your concerned look.

           “I’ve been beaten up worse.” He said as he gathered himself, ignoring your support. “I should have knocked that good for nothing heir into last week.” He grunted dusting off his pants.

           “Well I’m glad you didn’t.” You said cheerfully.

           The boy was taken aback.

           “What do you mean?! Are you taking his side? Are you another filthy heir?!” The boy started to raise his voice.

           “I’m glad you didn’t because that would make you the same as him.” As soon as those words escaped your lips the boy became dead silent. “The world is already filled with hate and violence. It’s easier to be mad at someone and lash out, harder to forgive and move on. So, I am very happy you did what you did.” With that you turned on your heels and began toward your classroom until the boy caught your wrist.

           “I’m Do Kyung-soo, one of the new scholarship students here at Sudoxe.” Kyung-soo averted his gaze from yours but kept a strong grip on your wrist.

           “(l/n)(f/n). It’s nice to meet you Kyung-soo! I guess us scholarship students should stick together then right?” You said with a giggle.

           “I’m sorry I made you fall. It was an accident I promise!” Kyung-soo pleaded with you, almost begging for your forgiveness.

           “I’ll admit I was about to give you a piece of my mind but I’ll forgive you this time on one condition.” You said cleverly.

           “Anything!” Kyung-soo replied.

           “From today on we’re friends, okay?” You said with a smile.

           Before you could do anything Kyung-soo began blushing like a girl who was just asked out.

           “…Okay…” he replied. “I think I can do that.”

           “Great!” you exclaimed. “But I think we should hurry to our meeting, though, otherwise we’ll be late”

           Realizing that you had both still been outside the two of your sprinted inside, barely making it to your meeting with your advisors.

           While the other heirs in the halls seemed to give Kyung-soo, and you through association, some pretty dirty looks all you could focus on was getting to know your new friend better.

           You soon found out that he liked to cook, although he was still very new at it, and that he loved foreign films. As the lunch bell rang you and Kyung-soo had finally finished your tour of the grounds and reached the awkward end of a conversation about what powers you both had.

           “I have strength which I can project around me. Like earlier when I made the ground shake.” He said as he looked away, almost ashamed. “But my power has always been unpredictable… I thought being given the chance to come to this academy might show me how to control my gift. Though at this point it seems more like a curse.” Kyung-soo said defeated.

           “I think you just need some encouragement in the right direction.” You said reassuringly. “My powers used to run wild as well until I just learned to control them. I’m sure we can do that for you as well.” With that you gave Kyung-soo a reassuring pat on the back

           “Thanks (f/n). What about you? What are your powers” Kyung-soo said with curiosity.

           “Me?” you asked playfully. “Record is the little name I’ve given it. It’s the ability to recreate powers I see and make them my own. The drawback is that it has backfire effect that gets stronger the longer I use it.” You said. “The backfire doesn’t happen when I use my power for small things but then again I haven’t been in too many situations where I’ve had to use my power all out.” You explained.

           “So… does that mean you can copy skills you see on TV? Or what about my strength?” Kyung-soo asked with curiousity.

           “I have to recall the memory of when I saw the power, so the only power I can really remember from TV is when I saw someone save a victim of a building collapse on the News. I can mimic that Healing power as a result.” You demonstrated as you walked over to the wilted flowers in your new classroom.

           As your hand began to glow, almost immediately the flowers were brought back to life.

           “Woah.” Kyung-soo stared in awe. “What about mine?” He asked.

           “Unfortunately, I wasn’t watching when you wrecked the plaza this morning” you said shrugging your shoulders.

           Kyung-soo looked down at the ground, still clearly apologetic about this morning’s incident. Reading the mood you stood up grabbing his hand.

“Want to go eat?” you asked happily.            As you both walked out into the hall, amongst the gossiping around you (obviously about the two new non-heirs in the class), you two found yourselves in the middle of a blizzard.

           “Why is it so cold in here?” You wondered until you saw ahead of you a student wielding daggers of ice and another student with fists of fire.

           Before you could even think you locked eyes with the fire wielding student ahead of you. Knowing the smirk he gave as he locked eyes with you, you stood stuck in place as he hurled a fireball past the ice wielding boy, straight towards you.

           Your hands began to glow and streaks of ice emerged from your feet until the ice wielding boy dove in front of you knocking the fireball back at the other student. Immediately your hands stopped glowing and you almost fell backwards until the mysterious man of ice caught you.

           “Thank you.” You said shyly

           Just as you were about to get the mystery man’s name, the fight was broken up by a teacher. While the students received a light scolding, the teacher authority seemed to reflect the power each of the heirs held over the school and its rules.

Fire boy across the way gave you a dirty look and marched off with his crew in tow and you redirected your attention toward the man who had shielded you.

“(f/n)! Are you alright?!” Kyung-soo asked worriedly as he forced himself between you and the mystery man.

“I’m fine thanks to you” You said as your gaze caught your savior. “May I ask your name?”

“It’s Min-seok. Kim Min-seok.” He said. “But I should be apologizing to you not accepting your thanks. It’s my fault you got caught in that mess.”

“It’s alright I’m not hurt at least so don’t worry!” You said trying to change the topic.” But still thank you anyway I didn’t think anyone would jump in front of me like that.

Kyung-soo hit your arm, signaling his offense.

Laughing off Kyung-soo hit you refocused on Min-seok. “Why were you two fighting though? And who was that other student?” you asked curiously.

“That jerk was Park Chan-yeol. Sudoxe’s very own resident D-bag. His parents are prominent figures in the government and thusly he himself a prominent heir at the school. He was picking on some of the non-legacy students in the other class and I couldn’t just stand by and watch anymore.” Min-seok explained. “He probably sent that fireball at you because he knows you’re a scholarship student, or more specifically a non-legacy student” Min-seok said in softer voice. “Not that non-legacy students deserve that.” Min-seok caught himself, worried that you and Kyung-soo might take offense.

“Hahaha.” You laughed as you looked at Min-seok. “I’m glad to know that there are people like you left in the world.” You said with a loving smile.

Min-seok immediately turned beet red with blush.

“Uhhh…. Err. Yeah…. So… T-thab You..” Unable to get his words straight Min-seok struggled to keep eye contact with you.

Before Min-seok could finish Kyung-soo butted his way into the conversation.

“Thanks for your help Kim Min-seok, but we should get our lunch before they run out.” With that Kyung-soo began to pull you away.

As you were pulled away by Kyung-soo you waved back to Min-seok who was still beet red.

“Thanks again” you mouthed as you were dragged to lunch by Kyung-soo.

           “Yo Min-seok!” Jong-dae said as he ran up to Min-seok, still waving at (f/n). “You okay man? I heard from Sehun what happened. I can’t believe you really picked a fight with Chan-yeol.” Jong-dae exclaimed.

           Unable to utter a word Min-seok just stared as (f/n) disappeared among the crowd. Still star struck by her smile and attitude Min-seok grabbed Jong-dae’s shoulder.

           “Jong-dae, do you know what class someone named (f/n) is in?” he asked hastily.

           “Well if she’s like the rumor says and is one of the new scholarship students then she’d be in 2-A with us… and Chan-yeol.” Jong-dae said nervously.

           Not seeming to hear the last part Min-seok immediately went into your classroom and saw that the two empty desks in front of and beside Jong-dae’s seat were now filled with books with a bag that had the names Do and (l/n) written on them.

           Running his hand over your desk, the beet red blush returned to his face along with a newfound smile upon his lips.

           “(l/n)(f/n) huh…” Min-seok, unable to contain his excitement, turned back to Jong-dae who seemed confused at Min-seok smile. “Jong-dae switch seats with me.”

Hope you enjoyed this chapter! (Sorry it was really bad but I tried)

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