#if i don’t get that FUCKING shirt in late december like it says when it’ll arrive i will be so sad

[the-meme-monarch]

terrified that my pre-order of the shirt didn’t actually go through bc my paypal decided to be fucky about it like i got the confirmation email that i Did pre-order it like it was successful but then i got an email saying there was insufficient funds from my account and they were gonna try again in a few days end then those few days pass and i got one saying basically “we’re just gonna take the money from your paypal balance ok?” like yeah that’s what I wanted you to do. i was under the impression that that’s what you did to begin with

[nationalharryleague]

Two for the Show

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

Genre: Famous Fake Dating! 

Word Count: 17.1k!

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

***

Keeping appearances in the public eye is a delicate balance.

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

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

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

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

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

But something kept holding her back.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How so?”

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

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

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

“I see,” she mused.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

All was going according to Jeff’s plan.

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

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

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

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

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

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

She was honestly speechless. This was huge.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His response came only seconds later.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Really good job, kiddos.

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

@Harry_Styles: We treat people with kindness.

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m Emma,” she breathed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

They were screaming in excitement, screaming for her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

Fans took notice and loved it.

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

The fans loved that too.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But it was rude.”

“It was necessary.”

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We have to celebrate.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can I ask you?”

“What?”

“About your ex.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Always,” he said with a gentle smirk.

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

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

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

“What a dirtbag.”

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

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

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

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

“Fuck it,” she shrugged. “Sure.”

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

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

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

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

“Noted.”

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

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

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

“Were the rest of us chopped liver?”

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

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

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

“Rude-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wait, I have another!”

“Watch it, smart ass.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He was her best friend.

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

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

“Just remember me when you get famous.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why not?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re welcome, love.”

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

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

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

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

“Are you flirting with me, Styles?”

“Just practicing.”

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

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

He was always in hers.

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He smelled so good. He smelled like home.

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

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

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

“You said you liked surprises!” he defended.

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

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

“Sing what?”

“That’s the surprise.”

“Do I even know the words?”

“You definitely know the words,” he chuckled.

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

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

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

“I had Lambert put something together for you.”

“Of course you did.”

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

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

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

“Pinky swear?”

“Pinky swear.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She could never say no to him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

There he was.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You don’t remember anything?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Just a question, princess.”

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

“What’s so funny?”

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

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

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

“You're cruel.”

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

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

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

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

“I think so.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh thank god,” they mumbled in unison.

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

“How did I get into Harry’s clothes?”

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

“But why Harry’s?”

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t think it would be weird.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Neither do I.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

An extra for our babies can be found here!

[jungwonenthusiast]

I’ll Take You to Heaven

pairing: dom! Jeno x fem! reader

genre: smut

warnings: protected sex, oral (female recieving), degradation, Jeno has a small pain kink

word count: 2.9 k

A/N: in this fic jeno kinda just dives into being a dom without a conversation with the reader if they are okay with the things he’s doing. i know for most this is a given but do not do this in real life!! please make sure your partner is consenting to being a sub and genuinely wants to do everything. sorry just felt like saying that :)

The place is a little bit dark and there’s only a few people.

“I’m nervous.” you say, following him close behind.

“Don’t be, it’ll just be us.” He gets into the square and looks at you. “I’m gonna teach you how to fight in case anyone other than me pushes you over at the skatepark.”

“Other than you?” you eye him.

“Yup.” He says while wrapping white tape around his hands.

“And why do you get special privileges?” you cross your arms.

He stops. “Because we’ve been friends since the beginning of time?”

You giggle. “That’s reasonable.”

He grabs your hands and pulls you to be standing in front of him. “Alright now hold your fists up, guard your face.”

You do as he says.

“Good,” he nods and holds his hands up, palms facing you. “give me a punch.”

“Like hard?” you ask nervously.

“As hard as you can.” he says.

You give him a solid punch. You’re not afraid of hurting him, you guys used to fist fight all the time.

“Come on, harder.” he says.

You try again.

“Harder.” he says firmly.

You hit him as hard as possible and his hand flies back.

“Atta-girl.” He smiles at you. That makes you tingle a bit. You can feel your cheeks get hot. “Now keep going.”

“Oh my god,” you exhale maybe half an hour later. “I’m tired.”

“But we’ve only gotten started.” He shakes your shoulder.

“I’m tireddd.” You whine.

“Come one darling I know you’ve got a few more hits in you.” he says. Darling? Jeno has always been charming, but never so upfront like this.

“I’m confident that I don’t.” You start to sit down.

He grabs your hands to pull you up and he nearly does but you let gravity drag you down.

“Come on get up.” He tugs at you again.

“Nope.” You shake you head.

“Come onnn.” He grabs your ribcage, ready to pick you up.

You squeal. “No no no.”

He stops. “Get up then.”

You don’t move.

“You’re asking for this.” he says before sweeping you off the ground. Jesus he’s strong.

“Hey!” you’re both in a giggling fit. “Let fucking go!”

“You’re the one with your legs wrapped around me.” He says and you freeze, embarrassed.

You unravel from him and he puts you down.

“You ready to go again?” he says.

“I told you I’m tired dude.” You groan and start to sit down again. He’s about to grab you when you roll away from him.

“You’re so lazy man.” he scoffs and plops down next to you.

“I know, I’m not ashamed.” you cross your arms over your chest and shut your eyes, the dim lights glow orange behind your eyelids.

You hear him moving next to you, then you feel something on your shoulder. Your eyes fly open to get a peek, and it’s him, laying down next to you with his forehead pressed against you.

“I missed you,” he pulls away to look at you, his face is alarmingly close to yours. “Why are you always so busy with school?”

“Because I actually want to be successful.” you joke and he rolls his eyes.

“Hey now,” he says. Wow he’s handsome. You always knew that he was cute, but in the last few years he got all tall, his voice dropped, and his figure got insane. Sometimes you catch yourself staring at him a little too long whenever he comes over to swim. “I don’t want to go home. Can I stay at your place?” He overlaps your ankle with his.

“Yeah,” you agree. “You wanna go now?”

“Sure,” he leaps to his feet and holds a hand out for you. “I didn’t really get to teach you much though.”

You adjust your shirt. “We used to fight all the time, I think I have enough practice from that.”

“You were pretty good.” he picks up his backpack. “I’ll never forgive you for shoving that clump of dirt in my mouth.”

“You deserved it alright.” You follow him to the car.

“I did not!” he argues.

“Telling your best friend’s crush that she likes him is a perfect reason to get a clump of dirt in the mouth.” You hop in and buckle your seatbelt.

“I’ll get you back one day.”

Jeno drives with one hand. The other is always out the window or on the gear shift. You secretly wish his free hand was on your thigh though, and you’ve been thinking that for a couple of years now.

He plops down onto your bed as you put your purse down.

“Why are your covers so soft.” you turn to find him cuddling your duvet.

You laugh and get on the bed next to him. “Let’s watch Shameless.” you grab the remote connected to your Apple TV.

“Fionaa,” he ogles.

“She could be your mom.” you remark, only a little jealous.

“I love me a good milf.” he says, making you laugh.

Your room is dark a little chilly. You’re under the covers now and getting nervous whenever you feel his leg against yours.

Get it together, why are you being weird? This is normal. But is it?

“I don’t get why she’s with him,” he sneers. “I’m so much hotter than Jimmy, don’t you think?” he turns to you.

“I’m not answering that.” you look away and he pokes your side. “Hey!’

“Come on, I’m hotter than him no?” he persists, grabbing at your side.

You slap his hand away. “I’ll kill you.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time.” he sits up and throws the blanket off of you. “I will tickle you.”

You get ready to run away but he grabs you before you get the chance. He throws you down, scratching lightly at your ribs and pinching your sides.

You try to be angry but you can’t help but laugh. “Stop stop stop!’ he doesn’t. “Truce!”

“I’m not stopping until you say I’m hotter than Jimmy!” he climbs onto of you, knees beside your hips. You’re laughing too hard to think about it though.

“Literally everyone is hotter than Jimmy!” You yelp. “Stop it now!”

“Not good enough!” He’s still going. You can feel your shirt starting to shimmy up.

“Fine, fine! You’re hotter than Jimmy!” You exhale when he stops.

“See how easy that was?” he smiles, still on top of you. His cheeky smile fades though, and soon you’re both sitting there in silence. Your shirt is hiked up high enough to see the bottom of your bra.

You’re trying to think of something to say when he leans down and kisses you. A long, soft kiss. His hands are warm on either side of your face.

You’re too shocked to move.

He pulls away quickly. “Shit, sorry. I-” he stops. “Sorry.

He’s about to get off when you grab him and crash your lips against his. He catches himself and melts into the kiss, his hand finding your bare waist.

You pull away from him, breathing embarrassing heavily.

“I’ve wanted this for so long.” he says softly.

You frown. “You’re so corny.”

He rolls his eyes. “You really have to ruin every moment huh?”

“This isn’t a moment,” you argue.

He cocks and eyebrow. “You sure? I’m on top of you and you’re half-naked.”

You tug your shirt back down. “I am not.” He pouts. “See, you just lost torso privileges.”

He groans. “So bossy.” then dips back down to kiss you.

You’ve made out with people before, but with him it just feels so different. Maybe it’s because you’ve wanted it for so long. He smells like Prada and his lips are like velvet.

He kisses hungrily. To be honest, most boys do, but it doesn’t feel like he’s starving, it feels like he’s savoring you.

He pulls away and goes for your neck, kissing you like you’re made of glass.

You slither your fingers underneath his hoodie. “Take it off.” you say and he complies, throwing the garment on your bedroom floor.

You flip him over onto his back, desperate to get a taste of his skin.

You trace every bone and every muscle on his stomach and place tender kisses everywhere you can reach.

He pulls you up, wanting another taste of your mouth. He grips your hips tight and pushes you down onto his hard on, earning a small gasp from you.

You can feel yourself getting worked up, that fire inside of you burning brighter than ever.

You grind down on him and he groans into your mouth.

“Fuck.” he whispers and wraps an arm around your waist and lays you on your back. He pushes your shirt up and plants kisses from your neck all the way to the band of your pants. He looks at you, asking for permission and you nod. He tugs your pants off and throws them to the side. Your knees fall together, trying to cover up.

“Hey.” he chuckles at you. “None of that.”

“I’m shy.” you whine.

He rolls his eyes. “Since when have you been shy?” He spreads your legs open and settles between your thighs.

He kisses the tender skin of your hips and inner thighs. Your heart is thumping in anticipation. His thumb skims over your clothed core and you shiver. He leans down again and you’re ready to feel something but all you get is a kiss on the edge of your underwear. You whine.

“What’s wrong?” he looks up at you.

You roll your eyes at him.

“You’re gonna have to tell me.” he comes up to kiss your neck. “Or I’m just gonna stay here,” he kisses your thigh “and kiss you until you’re begging for me.”

“When did you start to think it’s okay to tease me.” you huff at him.

He bites lightly at your soft skin and you flinch. “Come on,”

You want him so bad it nearly burns, but your ego is getting in the way.

“I know you need this,” he licks a stripe up your thigh, “you’ve been so stressed about school lately. I bet you haven’t gotten off in months.”

Your knees knock back together and he bumps them open. “Come on, when’s the last time you hooked up with someone?”

“Maybe-” you start.

“The last time where someone actually made you finish.” he cuts you off.

That makes you laugh. “December I think?”

His fingers are trailing up and down your clothed core. “That’s way too long ago, don’t you think?”

“Yeah,” you exhale, trying your best to control your breathing. “So do something about it.”

“Only if you ask nicely.” he says.

You swallow your pride with a big gulp. “Please?”

He smirks. “Say it again.”

“Please?” you squirm.

“Please what?” he tugs at your underwear.

“Please… please eat me out.” you say softly and you see him smile.

“Your wish is my command.” he throws your leg over his shoulder and pulls your underwear to the side, like a fucking professional.

He gives you one long, gentle lick and you feel your body relax.

He kisses your thigh again before diving in and running his tongue over your clit in delicious circles. You tug at his hair and you let out a loud whine. You feel him moan against you and you let go of your grip.

“No, no, keep doing that,” he says and you give him a questioning look. “I like it.” he shines you a smile.

He goes back to tasting you and he’s so damn good at it that your eyes roll back. You haven’t felt this good in so long.

He runs his tongue over your clit over and over in waves and soon your legs are starting to tremble.

“Fuck,” you whisper and he smiles. Your thighs start to close but he pushes them up, keeping you spread and pretty for him.

You start to roll your hips onto his tongue and he moans.

You’re so, so close to seeing those stars behind your eyelids when he pulls away.

“The fuck was that for?” you complain and he laughs.

“Why? Were you about to cum?” he snickers. “Do I make you feel that good?”

“Yes,” you admit, “please keep going.”

He raises an eyebrow.

“Please? Please I need it.” you beg and you watch his eyes change from teasing to deviant. He smiles and leans back down.

He’s sucking your clit when he slides one finger nice and slow into you. You gasp a little when he pushes up.

“So fucking wet.” he whispers and pushes in another.

He curls his fingers and you whine out loud.

“Fuck yes.” you say.

He turns to look at the mirror next to your bed. “Look at yourself.” he says.

“What?” you ask.

“You heard me,” he says, still pumping his fingers into you. “Look at yourself, I want you to see how good I make you feel.”

You almost cum just from hearing him say that. Since when was he likes this. This Jeno is so different from the Jeno you usually know, but this alter ego makes everything so much hotter.

You obey and look at yourself. Spread open and eager for him, taking his fingers as you should.

“Feel nice?” he comes up to give you a kiss, you can taste your juices on him, syrupy and cloying.

You nod and look into his eyes, he slaps your cheek lightly. “Keep your eyes on the mirror.” You listen and he starts to drive his fingers into you harder.

“Fuck!” you grab his wrist. “Don’t stop.”

He leans down again to get another taste of you when you start to shake.

You watch your face contort from all the pleasure when finally, you’re shot into the clouds and you’re touching the fucking moon.

Jeno kisses you again. You crave him so bad, you want him inside of you and not just because you know it’ll feel damn good, but because you want to be connected.

“Fuck me now.” you say softly.

“Really?” he asks, smiling. So bipolar. “Do you have a condom?”

You roll your eyes and reach over to your nightstand to dig through the drawer for a condom.

He tugs his sweats down and strokes his length before rolling the condom on.

He’s hard as a fucking rock and you point it out.

“I can’t help it. Nearly everything you do makes me hard, how do you expect me to react when you’re cumming on my face.” he says while gliding the tip over your pussy.

You hiss. “That feels good.”

“Yeah?” he kisses your neck. “How bad do you want me to fuck you?”

“Really really bad.” You look at him pathetically. “Please fuck me,” you say. “I want you to fill me up.”

He shakes his head and chuckles. “What a good slut. You were a brat for bit but look at you, already learning to be good for me.”

Your body is still zinging from the last orgasm and you nearly cry out when he pushes into you.

“Fuck,” he growls. He’s big, just the perfect amount of big to hit your g spot with every thrust.

“You feel so good.” you whine.

“I bet I do.” he says while fucking you agonizingly slow.

“Faster.” you plead.

“Only because you’ve been good.” he starts to pick up the pace and you grab at his back, digging your nails into the ridges of muscle.

He groans and bites softly at your neck.

How does this feel so fucking good? You think to yourself as the tip of his cock brushes against your spot.

He kisses your collarbone before pounding you, holding the headboard above you for leverage.

You curse loudly and hold onto him as tight as you can.

“Touch yourself.” he tells you and you do as you're told right away.

His cock fucking you deep and your fingers on your clit make your eyes roll back for the hundredth time of the night.

“Do you wanna cum?” he asks.

You nod, desperate for release. “Yes, please.”

“Good girl.” he smiles. “Go on then, cum on this cock.”

His words finally send you over the edge. You have to remind yourself to come back to Earth as you're floating in space.

“Fuck.” he groans into your neck. He takes his hand through his hair and kisses you. “You’re so pretty.”

You blush, then blush even more because you’re blushing just because he called you pretty after fucking you like a pornstar.

He slumps down next to you then pulls your body close to his so that you’re face to face.

“Was I okay?” he asks. “Are you okay? I’m sorry I was so rough.”

You giggle. “No it’s okay, I liked it. Is your back okay?”

He turns his head to try to get a look. “I don’t know,” he flips around to show you. “how does it look?”

Your eyes widen. “Holy shit.” You touch the streaks of red going from his shoulder blades to his lower back. “I’m so sorry.”

“Is it bad?” he laughs. “Take a picture, I wanna see.”

You reach at your nightstand for your phone and snap a picture.

“Don’t kill me.” you wince as you hand him your phone.

He takes it and laughs. “Holy fuck. Guess I was dicking you down good.” he smirks at you and you punch his arm. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding.”

“Sorry, I didn’t think I was doing it that hard.” you say, a little embarrassed.

“Nah, I think it’s hot. I can’t wait to show Jaemin.”

You punch him again. “Don’t you dare. He’s gonna think I’m a fucking psycho!”

[we-are-inevitable]

OKAY BIG AU RANT BUT I CAN'T STOP THINKING ABOUT THIS (even though i posted all of this in the discord last night) AND UH:

modern au where most the newsies are straight and in a frat and jack is the frat president

very stereotypical frat bro, wears his letters everyday (whether it's a t-shirt of a cap or a pin on his bag), throws a whole bunch of parties and is really respected and stuff

he gets around, and has been with a bunch of girls throughout college- nothing really serious, but whatever.

everything is going great, until he meets David Jacobs at a party the frat is throwing.

and obviously jack has seen him around campus before (they're in their fourth year of college by now), and they had a few labs together back in like. freshman year, but they've never *talked*

and now, here's david, at a party with Katherine, and jack decides to talk to him.

they actually hit it off pretty well, but then jack mentions something about david taking Katherine home and David laughs and says, "Yeah, she's gonna help me weed out my grindr matches."

cue jack being like "???" because OH! jacobs is gay. huh. okay

and jack obviously makes a big show of it ("oh, sick! being gay is okay, bro, y'know, love is love and shit like that") and it's so obvious that he's out of his element but he doesn't wanna be like. homophobic or anything

and they kind of talk for a bit longer before jack drifts off to another group of people, and he doesn't think much of the interaction- at least, not until he runs into david at another party on campus the next weekend. this time, they're alone; jack is only there bc one of his buds in another frat told him to come, and david has lost Katherine in the crowd, so jack and david talk in the kitchen and get to know each other a bit more. again, everything is pretty New and they kind of friends now but they're talking and that's fine.

later on that night, jack sees david making out with some guy on the staircase, and to get his mind off of it, jack makes out with a girl in the kitchen.

over the next few weeks, david and jack run into each other a lot- enough times for them to exchange snapchats, and follow each other on Instagram. and they talk more on social media; jack invites david to some parties and david always comes, and they always end up talking- for longer and longer each time, like ACTUAL conversations about the past and their future goals and stuff

about three months after their initial meeting, though (after they've become good friends, who talk/snap everyday and hang out at least once a week), they're at a party, and jack gets pretty drunk, and he sees david making out with some guy on the couch. and jack doesn't know why, but he feels bad. angry. kind of upset. he approaches and tells david he needs to talk to him, and David says no ("uh, i'm kind of in the middle of something?")

and jack tries getting him to move and the other guy- the one David is making out with- starts getting in jack's face and calling him names, so jack... decks him.

he decks him, and he's immediately feeling guilty and bad and the commotion has stopped all around him and everyone is staring and david looks so confused and pissed off

and all jack can do is say "i'm so sorry" and run off

it's not until he's home that he realizes that, the reason he punched that guy in the face, was because he didn't like the idea of him having his hands on david.

because jack wants to be the one with his hands on david.

as soon as that realization hits him, though, jack basically has a meltdown. he's frustrated and crying and kind of throwing shit around but not really because, no. he can't be gay. right? he can't be. he literally has like 3 gay friends and he doesn't know anything about being gay and he's never been into a guy before but, fuck, he's into david.

naturally, though, jack avoids david for as long as he can. he avoids him like the plague

until one night, about six days later, when jack is drunk again (not from a party; more like self pity) and around two am one night, he walks to David's dorm room and knocks really loudly. and it takes a minute, but David answers, and as soon as the door opens, jack starts talking.

"Davey! Hi!"

"...Jack, what are you--"

"Listen, I'm very drunk. Very drunk. and I get it, ya probably don't wanna see me ever again, but I need to talk to ya, because- cause I ain't talked to ya in days, and I miss you, and I'm sorry."

"Jack, it's late, and--"

"Y'know, no one has been talkin' to me since the party. None'a my friends, no one from class... I fucked up, and I'm sorry, and I don't have an excuse, but I just... Do you know what's goin' on right now? 'Cause I sure as hell don't."

"What do you mean?"

"Have you been flirtin' with me?"

"I- I'm sorry, what--"

"'Cause I can't tell if you've been flirting with me or not, and I can't tell if i like it or not, but if you're flirtin' with me, then I've been likin' it, and thats fucking terrifying. Seein' you with that guy... I- I know we ain't a thing or anything, but it fuckin' sucked, and I don't even know why! Okay? Because I think I like you, but I've never been into a dude, and you're a dude and that's- that's fuckin' scary, man. But it'll be fine, and I'll deal with it, and I'm sorry. Night, davey."

and all david can do it watch jack stumble back down the hallway, and pray that jack remembers this in the morning.

and obviously jack remembers, because around noon the next day- a sunday- david gets a message from jack that says, 'we need to talk.'

so, david meets jack at one of the benches in front of the library, and jack looks so... broken, and defeated, and hungover as fuck.

"...You remember last night, huh?"

"Unfortunately, yeah. Look, Dave, I... I'm sorry. All of that was- was a lot, and you shouldn't have had to deal with my bullshit, and--"

"Did you mean it?"

"...Yeah. Yeah, I did."

and they're silent for a long time, until david rubs his arm and says

"For the record, I don't even know the name of the guy you punched."

"You two ain't--?"

"No, we aren't together. I... I've sort of had my eye on someone else."

and then david slowly takes jack's hand, and he san feel how tense and how shaky jack is, and he can see how scared he is, but then jack squeezes david's hand, and things start looking up. obviously they still have to deal with the fallout (and david is still very ,, Not Happy about jack punching that guy), but for the most part, they take things slow and figure it out as they go.

when jack comes out to the rest of the guys, he's really nervous and he does it in one of their weekly frat meetings, and of course there are a few of the guys who try to start shit, but the majority of the frat (other newsies included) are fine with it and are proud of jack.

i imagine all if this happening around,, December, so then once second semester hits, jack is less focused on partying and more focused on developing his relationship with david and working on accepting himself for who he is.

also HUGE shout out to the discord server for dealing with me spamming the chat with these paragraphs last night, namely @tarantulas4davey , @starz-in-our-eyes , and @santagae !!!!!

[thran-duils]

Lost In Zero Gravity (P.9)

Title: Lost In Zero Gravity (Part Nine) Summary:  Fem!Reader x Mob Boss!Tony Stark x Mob Boss!Steve Rogers.  Reader is a call girl who runs high end parties. She catches the attention of Tony Stark who invites her back to his room with his friend. She might have performed too well because she becomes their new favorite play toy and they don’t like to share. Words: 2,794 Warnings (for the fic in entirety): Smut, prostitution, infidelity, angst, domestic violence, stalking, possessive behavior

Part Eight || Part Ten || Masterpost (mobile) || Fanfic masterpost

“Stop fucking following me!” Alessia threatened Tony as he followed her out of the apartment complex onto the sidewalk. He had taken the stairs while she had taken the elevator.

Out of breath, he tried to apologize, “Sweetheart, I can—”

She whipped around, shoving a finger into his face, sending him onto his heels. “Don’t ‘sweetheart’ me! Just go back upstairs and finish fucking that little slut! You seemed so goddamn content burying your dick into her! Just coming into any pussy that grants you entrance! What does it matter what’s going on at home? Because you obviously don’t care that Olivia was asking where her daddy was when she got off stage after having the lead role in her play and you weren’t there!”

She whipped around and came to an abrupt stop because Daryl was there all of a sudden and he stepped in front of her, blocking her path, thinking he was doing the right thing. “Mrs. Stark—”

“Move!” Alessia shouted at him, pushing her purse up her shoulder further, taking a step towards him.

Daryl looked at Tony over her shoulder for guidance and she took the liberty of giving him a rough shove, sending him off balance to give herself room.

She took off towards her car, leaving the two of them behind.

Tony took some steps towards her but the middle finger she shot at him before she got into the car stopped him in his tracks. Terrence came out of the building then but he was only met with Tony storming back by him.

<><><>

Steve jolted when Tony marched back into the apartment, slamming the door behind him. He only stopped for a moment, his veins in his forehead pulsing before he shouted, “FUCK!”

Quickly, Steve reminded him, “Tony! It’s 5am!”

“I don’t give a flying fuck!” Tony exclaimed.

He rushed to the cupboard, grabbing a glass and throwing the faucet handle back with force that made Steve fear he was going to break it off. He thrust the glass underneath the water before bringing it to his lips, gulping it down.

His hand came to rest on the counter as the water settled, but his fingers were still gripping the glass way too hard. Steve waited for him to relax, opting to not say anything until Tony made the next move.

“Is she alright?” Tony asked with difficulty.

He put the glass down, looking at Steve expectantly. Steve gestured weakly and Tony did not accept that answer. He began to move towards the hallway and Steve jumped to action, coming to block his way.

“Don’t,” Steve warned.

“What?” Tony demanded.

Steve gestured at the island where Tony’s socks, shoes, shirt, and other belongings were lying that Tony had not noticed yet in his rampage past it to get some water. “She threw those out of the room. Just… don’t. Leave her alone.”

In disbelief, a manic smirk coming to Tony’s face, he asked, “So… ‘don’t’?”

“She locked us out, Tony.”

<><><>

You heard someone knock aggressively on the bedroom door and you buried yourself further into the blankets, holding the icepack closer to your jaw.

“Y/N?” you heard Tony call.

You said nothing, curling up further into yourself.

“Y/N!”

You tossed the blankets back, the icepack falling from your hand to land on your sheets. Hands planted beside your hips, you shouted at the door, “GO AWAY!”

<><><>

Tony sucked his teeth hearing Y/N shout at him, telling him to leave.

“Well, where do you think I’m gonna go? Because I sure as hell can’t go home!”

“I don’t know! Figure it the FUCK out! You have an office chair you can sleep on right?” she shouted from the other side of the door.

Tony inhaled sharply, his heart rate increasing dramatically. The second woman in his life tonight to tell him to fuck off and he was not about to have it.

As if Steve could sense Tony was taking a step back to cock his foot up and kick the doorhandle in, he barked down the hall in warning, “Tony! Don’t!”

Tony stormed up to him and rasped to try to mask the conversation from Y/N’s ears, “She’s being fucking ridiculous! Do you not hear her? I’m trying to go in there and help her and—”

“I now,” Steve interjected, cutting him off. “She’s emotional. It’s not surprising. But she did get punched twice in the face.”

Through gritted teeth, Tony took a step back, shaking his head. “Fucking… Alessia. How the FUCK did she even find out where we were?”

“She probably followed us. Seems you missed a play and she probably took it up from there trying to figure out what could’ve kept you from it,” Steve told him, setting him with a fierce look. “Seems like a rookie mistake to me.”

An unfriendly smile came across Tony’s face and he said in a dangerous tone, “Now don’t you—”

“No, you know you fucked up. Take the L and learn from it.” Steve gestured down the hallway towards the bedroom, “Let Y/N calm down. She will. Like you said, good girl. She just need space sometimes. And we should give her that. And then we can go deal with the fucking can of worms that was just released all over our goddamn living rooms, yeah?”

<><><>

You heard them leave the apartment. You could not hear most of the last part of their conversation but you heard them leave. You were waiting for that noise of the lock in the front door.

You had paid your dues well enough in your opinion. You had been at their beck and call since the end of August and it was almost December now. And you had not asked them to kill Jared; they had done that all on their own because of their possessiveness and jealousy.

It had to happen and happen quick; you leaving. Before they had time to try to reconcile with you. Tonight would be best, even better this afternoon. You were sick of being treated like they owned you; no matter the feelings you had developed for them, it could not be overstated that you were essentially property. Fuck, they had locked you down in this apartment for a month and a half. It did not matter if you relished in their attention and touch. How were you to know those feelings of affection were real anyway if you were never given a proper chance?

<><><>

You grabbed your purse hanging off the back of your front door on the hook, readying yourself to leave. Throwing your game face on, you also threw the door open, stumbling into the hallway. Snorting, you caught your balance on the doorframe and spun back to face the door, slamming it behind you.

Terrence was waiting at the end of the hall and saw you fumbling with your keys to lock the door behind you.

You heard him say your name, but you ignored him, shoving your key at the deadbolt. He was moving towards you quickly by his footsteps and he made it there quick, just as you locked it.

From beside you, he said, “Y/N?”

Acting startled, your hand came to your chest, jumping back from him. You teetered again, feigning alcohol imbalance and his hand shot out to grab your arm, steading you.

“Oh, shit. Terrance, it’s you. Hey.”

“What are you doing? You should be staying inside.”

“I have a key now, duh,” you said holding it up to him. He did not look impressed and you said, “Why should I stay in? I’m going out!”

“Well, for one, you’ve got a nice shiner on your cheek. Not a great look. Secondly, the bosses wanted you to stay here until things settled. Stay inside until they get the shit under control.”

“Neat,” you said, making sure you slurred it.

Terrence unlocked the door again, assisting you inside. “Y/N, love. You are not sober.”

“Nope, what gave it away?” you giggled, leaning onto his arm for support. You had taken a shot took to make your breath smell off.

“Let’s get you back in here,” he said, kicking the door behind the two of you closed. He brought you over to the island and sat you in one of the chairs.

You eyed the bottle on the counter still and hopped up out of the chair. He made to protest but you came around and poured alcohol into the two glasses. You held one out to him and said, “Seriously, relax. You guys have had a rough day. I mean, I did. I got punched in the face.” You gestured at your cheek and jaw where the bruises had already started to form. “It’ll help.”

Terrence took it from you reluctantly, but you were cheerful as all hell. Clinking glasses, you said, “Cheers. To being in the apartment.”

It took almost an hour for him to pass out with the sleeping pill you had crushed into the glass mixed with the alcohol. Not having to pretend anymore about being drunk, you moved quickly. You grabbed your packed bag out of the bedroom and grabbed the cat carrier. Luna was reluctant at first but when she saw the plush shirt and handful of treats you had packed in there for her she walked in willingly and you closed the door behind her. Thankfully she was not a crier when it came to a carrier; you had had cats that had just been hellions about it.

<><><>

“Tatiana, please—”

You were standing at the foot of her bed, having woke her up very late in the night after leaving your apartment and Terrence passed out on the counter. You had snuck out an emergency exit with Luna and ordered an Uber. Thankfully at least your phone was still separate from anything Tony and Steve had their hands on. A sliver of grace in this shitstorm. The security guards at the brothel had let you in knowing who you were and because you had begged so profusely and swore you would take all the wrath she had to throw.

“What are you of asking me?” she was tired. She eyed the cat carrier at your feet and you decided to ignore that for the moment. Luna was still quiet, snuggling in her blanket you had in there.

Shifting uncomfortably, you said nervously, “Let me move back in.”

She cocked her head, eyes running up and down you. “Has this been agreed upon?”

You wanted to scream at that question. Your future being determined by the two of them was getting underneath your skin.

“I don’t need it to be agreed upon. I’m—I don’t want to live there anymore. I wanna move back here. I wanna move back home.”

That seemed to pain her, you calling the brothel home.

Tatiana stood up then and took some steps towards you. Concern was painted on her face. “What happened?”

You had come in with a hood on, banking on the dark light in the room. And you had not fully looked at her yet. That is something that must have set her on edge about the whole conversation to begin with no doubt.

But the time for shrouding the situation was over. You turned her head to look at her head on and threw your head back so she got a full view of your face.

She looked shocked for a moment before she asked firmly, “Did they do that?”

“No,” you admitted. “Tony’s wife did. She found the apartment somehow. And… me on top of Tony.”

“Shit,” Tatiana swore underneath her breath.

“And they had the audacity to be mad at me for wanting space. I got assaulted in my bedroom! I didn’t… I didn’t do anything wrong! I mean, I did, knowingly. But it’s not my place to make calls for their relationships. It’s not my relationship that’s being fucked up! I’m just… stuck! I’m forced there!” Your lip warbled. “I don’t want to be there anymore. If they want to continue seeing me it has to be here. Where I know random people are not going to barge in, tear me off a bed, and sock me in the face! Where I can do my job in peace!”

“Is it still just a job in your circumstance?”

“What the fuck do you mean?” you exasperated.

“What do you think I mean?”

“Y/N… it’s way past a job for you now and you know it. You’re theirs. You’re their mistress. And in these situations, mistresses sure the hell aren’t the ones calling the shots. And certainly not calling when the relationship is done or where it’s heading. You’re an escape and that escape is something they have a strong hold on.”

Tears stung your eyes and you pleaded, “I just… I wanna be safe!”

It seemed to pain her to say, “I already told you that I cannot stand in their way. I explained why, Y/N. I told you… I told you well why I couldn’t.”

“I have nowhere else to go,” you said tearfully, your voice breaking.

“What about back home? That seemed like an option.”

“And put my grandpa in danger by being around that house?”

Tatiana asked incredulously, “But you’re willing to put all the girls here in danger?”

You shook your head, hanging it. “It’s not the same. It’s… he’s sick.”

“Y/N. I can’t.”

“Can’t or won’t?” you spat, tears rolling down your cheeks.

Her regretful sigh said enough. But she still said heavily, “Both. Stellina, you know it’s both.”

Wiping at your eyes, you stared at the wall instead of her. You needed to compose yourself, knowing you were going to get no help here. You had known it down deep in your gut. But you could not have helped yourself to not try, hoping against everything that it would turn out differently than you expected. That was the way of things; expect the worse and hope for the best.

Looking down at Luna’s cat carrier, you sighed heavily. Maybe you could at least save someone.

“Will you at least keep the cat? I can’t travel well with her. She’ll get along fine with the girls.”

Tatiana seemed ready to reject this request as well, “Y/N, people who come in may have allergies—”

You leveled her with a glare, “I can’t put her out on the street.”

Tatiana’s jaw set and you knew you had struck a nerve. Because that was exactly what she was doing to you.

“Fine, she can stay.”

Relenting, knowing that was the most you were going to get here, you nodded. “Thanks. She’s a good cat. I… she’s very cuddly and she’s not super high maintenance except for her litter. She likes a specific brand that I can write down. And Elisha isn’t allergic. And she likes cats.”

“I know,” Tatiana nodded. And you saw some tears in her eyes too, finally.

Sucking at your teeth, you pushed away from the chair you had been gripping and shrugged. “Then that’s that. I’ll… I’ll just leave her here. Her name is Luna. But I suppose she won’t mind if she’s renamed. She probably doesn’t understand it anyway. I’ve only had her for a short while. She likes fake mice—"

“Stop.”

You stopped talking and met her gaze.

“Where are you going to go?” Tatiana demanded.

You shrugged. That is all you had to offer.

Tatiana looked contemplative before wiping at her eyes. She muttered, “I’m gonna regret this.”

“What—” you started to say but she held up her finger and your mouth closed.

She reached for her bed side table, picking up her cell phone. She scrolled through it for a moment before tapping. The phone came to her ear and she shot you a worried look, before you heard someone answer on the other end.

“I know it’s early. I’m sorry. But I need a favor,” Tatiana said forcibly.

<><><>

“Terrence!” Daryl said for the third time into the walkie talkie forcibly. He had not heard from him in the last ten minutes that he had tried to check in. They only checked in every so often and Terrence was not responding.

Assuming the worst, Daryl took off from the lobby and made his way to the elevator, taking it up.

Terrence was nowhere to be found. The apartment door was unlocked. He pushed it open, finding Terrence slumped on the couch.

Rushing over, Daryl took Terrence’s pulse, finding him still very much alive. He spotted the alcohol and glass on the coffee table, putting two and two together.

There was an apartment key on the coffee table too, right next to the alcohol bottle.

~~~

Forever tags: @coconutqueen21 @undecidedsworld

Fic tags: @icant-hangout-imdrumming @oceaniamaddness @multifandom-superlover @imsonick @holl2712 @here4thefanfics

[mallowstep]

(hand games on the playground court)

"Bubblegum, bubblegum in a dish, how many pieces do you wish?"

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11-

"Alright, Featherpaw, you take my place."

* * *

"Where are we going?"

Mistyfoot glances back over her shoulder. "We're going on a little walk."

"But it's dark."

Stonefur meets her eyes. If they get caught taking the kids out, they'll be separated, and then they have no hope of protecting them.

"I know," Mistyfoot says. "It'll be fun. A little adventure."

She squeezes Featherpaw's hand a little tighter, and they cross over the road, making it deeper into the woods. Stonefur fiddles with the cellphone he picked up last time he was in town. They've waited months for a chance to use it.

Stormpaw grabs a twig, dragging it through the dirt, and Featherpaw twists a finger through her hair.

"Hey," Stonefur says. "Yeah, yeah it's me. We're alright, I've got the kids."

Stonefur crouches down, smiling at Featherpaw and Stormpaw. "I've got your dad on the phone," he says, pressing a few buttons. "Okay, Greystripe, you're on speaker."

"Hey, kiddos," Greystripe says. "How are you doing?"

Stonefur passes the phone to Stormpaw, and the kids chatter on about their days. Stonefur stands next to Mistyfoot, and she rests her head on his shoulder.

"I'm running out of cash," he says, his voice low to avoid the kids' attention. "This might be their last call."

"I'll see what I can find," Mistyfoot says. "We should..."

What should they do? Leopardstar has custody of the kids. They can't take them to Greystripe without getting dragged back here.

Stonefur puts his arm around her shoulders. "We'll figure it out," he says.

On the way back, Mistyfoot reminds the kids that this has to be their secret. They don't ask why.

* * *

Stormpaw hits the ball away from him, watching it bounce twice in the square next to him.

"You're out!" he calls, and they all rotate squares.

"Your serve," someone says. Stormpaw smiles. He doubts he'll be knocked out before recess is over.

* * *

Stonefur taps on the window to the kids' room. Stormpaw opens the window, looking confused.

"Stonefur?"

"Shh," Stonefur hushes. "Quiet, okay?"

"What are you doing here? Tigerstar said you went missing."

"Yeah, I know." Stonefur takes a deep breath. "Where's your sister?"

"I dunno. Mistyfoot took her somewhere."

Fuck. He doesn't know what his sister has planned, but he can't wait for them to get back. He's sure he's already tripped an alarm, and it's only a matter of time before someone finds him.

"Okay," he says, "You and me are going to go on an adventure, okay?"

Stormpaw looks hesitant.

"It'll be fun," Stonefur soothes. "Come on, you get to climb out a window. Isn't that fun?"

Stormpaw clambers out, and Stonefur grabs him. He's too big to carry comfortably, but too young to walk fast enough to make it out. "Piggy back ride, okay?"

"I can walk."

"I know." Stonefur shifts Stormpaw, and closes the window as best he can as Stormpaw wraps his legs and arms around him. His heel kicks into the gouge in his side, but Stonefur does his best not to react.

"Where are we going?" Stormpaw asks, as he treks towards town, turning back over his shoulder every couple of minutes.

"We're going to live with your dad," Stonefur says.

"What about Featherpaw?"

Stonefur adjusts Stormpaw, wrapping his arms under Stormpaw's knees. "I'll go back for her once we get to Greystripe," Stonefur says.

He walks until noon of the next day. They're in a new town, and he forks up enough cash to get them a motel room. Stormpaw's head is resting on his shoulder, and he slides the kid into the bed as gently as he can. Hopefully, he can run to a gas station and back before Stormpaw wakes.

The attendant examines his purchases. Stonefur doesn't have cash to waste on hiding what he's doing. A bottle of rubbing alcohol, sewing kit, and a new burner phone. He's lucky he's wearing a jacket, because he's sure his shirt has been soaked with blood.

Stormpaw wakes when Stonefur opens the door.

"Hey, buddy," he says. "Sleep well?"

"I'm hungry," Stormpaw says.

"I know. I need a minute, and then we'll see if we can't scrounge up something for you to eat."

Stonefur shuts the bathroom door and starts the sink. His side is angry and red, and this is going to hurt like hell.

He doubles numbers in his head, high as he can keep track of, as he cleans it out and stitches it shut. It's not a good job, but he can't afford a doctor.

Stormpaw is fiddling with the TV when he opens the door. He looks at the shoddy stitches. "You should see a doctor."

"I'll be fine," Stonefur says. "Just a second, and then we'll find some food." He dials Greystripe's number. It's been nearly six months since they last called him. "Greystripe, it's me."

"Stonefur?"

"Yeah. Listen, I can't talk for long, but me and Stormpaw are on our way to you."

"What happened? What about Featherpaw?"

Stormpaw hangs upside down off the bed, mouthing along to the theme song of some children's cartoon. Stonefur is surprised he remembers seeing it.

"I didn't have time to get her. It was one or none." Stonefur runs his hand through his hair. He must look half wild. He'll have to clean them both up before they leave, if they want any hope of not attracting attention. "We won't be there for a while. Maybe a few months."

"I can come to you," Greystripe says. "Where are you? Do you need anything?"

"I don't have an ID, I don't have a bank account, and we've gotta keep moving," Stonefur says. "We'll be fine. You're at the same address?"

"Yeah. Can I talk to Stormpaw?"

"Yeah. But listen -- Mistyfoot will take care of Featherpaw. I wouldn't have left her if she would be alone."

"I know." Greystripe is frustrated, angry, even, and Stonefur can't blame him. "Keep in contact, okay?"

"Yeah. Don't talk for too long. I only have so many minutes."

* * *

Tawnypaw is jumping.

"For all have sinned and fall short in the glory of God," they chant, Tawnypaw jumping on every other syllable.

It's fall, and they're not back in school. Tigerstar says it's a bad influence and probably why Stormpaw left and he won't risk any more children being corrupted.

* * *

Maybe Mistyfoot should be more surprised when she's moved into a new room with Featherpaw. But it feels par for the course. Tigerstar has been livid ever since Stormpaw and Stonefur ran (or since Stonefur died, he keeps changing the story and Mistyfoot isn't sure which one is true), and cramming them in a windowless barely-more-than-a-closet feels about right.

Featherpaw is seemingly unbothered.

"He's isolating us," she explains. ""Cause our brothers were bad so we're probably bad so he doesn't want it to spread."

Mistyfoot cradles Featherpaw against her. "We're not bad," she says. "Our brothers aren't either." She runs her hand through Featherpaw's hair. It's tangled, but she doesn't have a brush.

"Tigerstar says we are," Featherpaw says. "Says we need to do a penance-" she slows down over that word, like she is making sure she has the right pronunciation "-so that our souls will be clean again."

Mistyfoot kisses the top of Featherpaw's head. "We don't need to do anything," she says. "Tigerstar doesn't know what he's talking about."

Featherpaw shrugs, like she doesn't want to argue but still thinks Mistyfoot is wrong. "He didn't let me bring my book," she says, her nose scrunching. "I was in the middle of a chapter."

* * *

"Last piece of cake," Stonefur says. "Who gets it?"

It's Stormpaw's tenth birthday. He hasn't celebrated his birthday since he was five, but Stonefur brought a cake back to their room and said they were celebrating this year.

"We should...thumb wrestle over it."

Stonefur smiles, but Stormpaw is pretty sure Stonefur lets him win. But Stormpaw doesn't touch the piece of cake.

"You won," Stonefur says, "don't you want it?"

"It's Featherpaw's birthday too," Stormpaw says.

Stonefur's jaw tightens, and his eyes crinkle at the corners. He rubs Stormpaw's shoulder.

* * *

Stonefur steals a car in late December. It's too cold to walk, and they're both exhausted, and he doesn't have the money he needs to buy one.

He'd be ashamed, but he doesn't have another choice. Stormpaw sits in the passenger seat, even though he's definitely too young for that, and Stonefur passes him a map.

"Ready, navigator?"

"Ready."

* * *

"Concentration!" Featherpaw says, "sixty-four!"

Mistyfoot doesn't know any games, so Featherpaw is teaching her all the ones she knows. Tigerstar hasn't let her go back for her book, or let her take any of the worksheets they've been doing back to their room, and Featherpaw doesn't have a long enough piece of string to do a cat's cradle. "I go first, you follow." Mistyfoot is watching Featherpaw carefully, but she's doing the motion fine. This is an easy game, anyway. There's nothing going on. It's mostly about the words.

"Category is...animals."

Mistyfoot smiles.

"Sheep."

"Mouse."

"Cow."

"Dog."

"Cat."

Someone bangs on the door. "Will the two of you shut up?"

* * *

Tigerstar places his hand on the small of her back.

"I hope you're doing well, Mistyfoot. I'm sure it's been hard, losing your brother like that."

Tigerstar sighs, using his other hand to tuck a strand of hair behind her ears. "It just goes to show you, you never can be sure about who's loyal."

* * *

That summer, Stormpaw draws a hopscotch grid on the driveway. Greystripe has bought him chalk, and markers, and a new backpack and more than the two sets of clothes he had been washing out in bathroom sinks.

"There aren't really any neighbourhood kids to play with," Greystripe says, "but if you're okay with winning all the time, I'll play."

[jaeminscoffee]

Rock, Paper, Scissors? | D. SC

Pairings- Dong Sicheng x reader

Genre- Crack, fluff.

Warning(s)- it's a fluff blurb, i don't think there should be any warnings unless win² being shirtless for 0.2 seconds is considered nsfw 😹😹

Word count- 1.33k

Synopsis- The pair of you always made crucial decisions with a very important, accurate technique. Here, you had to decide who'd step out to bring essentials from the convenient store.

Type- Requested! (i'm sorry this is sucky and makes no sense. I'm writing this while my exams are going so, if anything, I'll try rewriting it after my exams! Let me know!)

@kpopscape​ 

If anyone would ask you at the very moment why you were frowning hysterically, then you'd answer with two things. 

'Oh it's just, my soon to be spouse is sprawled out shirtless in the living room with a tub of almost empty, still solid ice cream on his chest' then the person asking would answer with, 'oh? you've never seen him shirtless before?' then once again, you'd answer with,

'Oh no, I have. It's the fact that it's 9 degrees minus outside on a December night and everyone's dressed in comfortable onesies but then here's Sicheng, in nothing but his sweats'

"Win.. Are you, okay..?" you approach him cautiously, having changed into your nightwear while searching for the aircon remote , shuddering at the low temperature. "No I'm not, it's steaming here-hey! Give me that remote" His face contorts into that of when someone dips their sock clad feet in water.

"No? Also, wear a shirt! You'll catch a cold you twerp!" You push the approaching hand away, climbing onto the couch (well, on top of his feet because his titan self was occupying the entire place leaving little to no space for you to squeeze in) "Y/n, I love you and all but get off my feet! I'm sweating and it's sticky" 

Your eyes widen at the slight warmth emitting from Sicheng's body, leaning forward immediately, placing the back of your palm flat on his forehead, "Do you have fever? How are you this warm?" you inquire, voice laced with concern.  Sicheng let out a guttural groan, hitting your arms softly to make you move it, "I don't, doll. It's just really hot" 

"Winwin, it's winter?? How's it hot for you?" You pull the hood of your nightwear up to cover your ears, rocking back and forth in an attempt to bring some warmth to your frigid body. 

"You see, the practice went on for hours which had warmed up my body, to add on top of that, that stupid closed rooms aircon is broken. And then when I thought I would go to the boys' dorm, their aircon has been gone for repair for like, i don't know, ever since i can remember and my dumbass wore three layers of thick clothing. So, it's hot." Winwin concludes, reaching in to scoop some more of the cold food only to be met with the base of the tub he had on his bare chest. 

"Urgh oh god I'm out of ice cream, great" he groans as you look at him with a sketchy expression, lowkey judging him and not trying to hide the fact. "Is that the pack of 4 that i bought two days ago?" you ask, letting your leg fall down from the couch and onto the floor as you slowly lift yourself up to stand again. 

"Maybe? But Y/n I'm out of ice cream. Go get me some more, please?" he tried telling it in the most convincing tone he could muster, only to still get your bemused look. "No? Why would i do that??"

"I don't think you heard me right the first time, I am out of ice cream."

"I still don't see why i should go outside, alone, in this freezing cold weather, just to get you ice cream" you stand, folding your hands in front of your chest. "Because i could die of a heat stroke if you don't provide me with something cold"

"You could always go sit inside the freezer" you shrug, loving his constant expression change from the conversation you're having. "Besides, the most you could die of right now would be frostbite so go put on a tank top at the least." 

"Y/n, pleaseee, I'm really tired to go out and in desperate need to eat something cold" Sicheng exclaimed dramatically, getting up to tower beside you. "Eat ice?" 

"Just did before i took of the ice cream" 

"Please?" He pleaded, with the softest puppy eyes he could possibly make, almost making you give in if it weren't for the sudden shudder you'd felt from the cold gust of wind flowing through the void of your living room. 

"I would, Sicheng, you know I would. It's just too cold." you state, feeling bad for constantly saying no to him when he's been pleading from the moment you entered the room.

 "You could still go, you know? It'll be perfect for you to go because it could help cool down your body" you shrug off 

Now, if anyone asked you why you're wearing a foul, sore expression then all you'd do was flip them off. 

You hated yourself for ever even second considering whether to go get him ice cream or not, you see, you did need some snacks to stack up and veggies and all that but you wouldn't have gone out this late to do so, especially not at a 24/7 seven-eleven store. 

But you had to comply as Sicheng had the upper hand. All thanks to the stupid rigged game of rock, paper, scissor that you MOST definitely did not initiate. Well. You did. And now you're paying the price. 

"There's no use fuming like that, you know?" Winwin pushes you to the side of the aisle to let a fellow shopper pass by with his shopping cart, while he bows down slightly to apologize at the unintentional death glare you'd given to him. 

Yes, the deal called for the loser to go get the essentials and of course, whatever the other craved. Winwin expected himself to be the loser knowing his luck, but shockingly for the first time, he'd won three games in a row which ended up with you as the declared loser.

But Sicheng definitely was not going to send you out amidst the dark twilight, well, he did consider it, but his 'good boyfriend' etiquettes called for never letting you go into any situation that screamed danger. And walking outside, late at night, unarmed definitely seems dangerous and he wasn't about to take risks. 

"Fuck off" you scheme through the ramen packets while trying to keep the material of your padded jacket close to emit warmth, any sort of warmth to keep you the slightest of frost free.

"Love you too. Anyways, I'll go get the drinks, rose milk for you, hm? Come find me there once you're done" he announced, getting ready to remove his wallet and get out the list he'd prepared for other needed items that aren't snacks. 

"Oh? Y/n? What are you doing here this late at night?" You heard someone speak behind you, the voice loud enough to stop Sicheng in his track and make him look behind to see who recognized you through the layers of clothing you'd adorned. 

"Yuta! Hey, yeah, just came out to get groceries, and ice cream because someone i know is a psychopath" you claim in a salty tone, making both the males chuckle while Winwin made his way back to you, recognizing the latter as someone who was in the same major as him back in the days. 

"Who is that?" Yuta, a close acquaintance of yours inquired. Having known him for a very short time, you could only describe him as the life of the party. One who goes along with any jokes cracked by anyone, literally. 

"Oh it's-" you look around you, finding Winwin a few yards away from you, as you walk towards him slightly, pulling him using the material of his t-shirt. "-Dong Sicheng, my ex-boyfriend" you smile, speaking through your teeth, while Yuta let out a loud laugh enough to grab the ones' near you guys' attention. "Doesn't seem like a psychopath to me"

"Y/n, you need to stop introducing me to people like that" Winwin sighs, only to break out into a given up smile as he looks at your puffed cheeks and furrowed eyebrows. Extending his hands forward, he corrected your description of him, 

"Hi, I'm Sicheng, Y/n's fiancé"

[timeaftertime-chriscornellfanfic]

Chapter 44 - When The Past Comes Back To Haunt You

Seattle Washington, December 24 1990

(Chris is 26, Andi is 20)

CHRIS: "Babe...? Baby...? Andi - "

"Ok, ok, I'm coming, hold on," She calls as I wait at the bottom of the stairs for her.

My beautiful incredibly gorgeous wife then emerges from the bedroom and quickly runs down the stairs flipping those dark curls out of her face while she rolls up the sleeve to her red plaid button up shirt with her Pantera tank top underneath, looking like the Metal goddess she is. She finally arrives at the bottom of the stairs and drops down on the last step to tie up her Doc Martens.

"I said I was finishing up downstairs and then we were heading out," I chuckle.

"I know, I know. I'm sorry I couldn't decide on a shirt," She says looking down and tying up her boot, her curls falling down around her.

"What else is new?" I smirk as I watch her switch to her other boot.

"You shush," She smirks back as she brushes off her plain black leggings and flips her curls again to look up at me with those deep dark eyes. She rises from the step, moves closer to me and I lean down to her pressing my lips to hers. Just as she is about to pull away, my hand slips to the small of her back pressing her back to me and she softly giggles against my lips.

"I thought we were leaving?" She says against my lips as she places her hands on my chest.

"You shush," I say with a sly chuckle and press my lips back to hers. If there is one thing I can't resist, it's those beautiful lips on mine... among other things.

"Ok, so before you blame me for making us more late, we should get going," She giggles as she pulls away from me. I groan a little and lean in placing a quick on her neck, then she makes her way over to the front door, grabbing her leather jacket as I follow.

"Oh wait, Christmas presents?" She says turning around quickly to see me standing right behind her as she untucks her curls from her jacket.

"Already in the truck babe," I grin at her. She then pats down her jacket hesitating for a moment while I move to open the door.

"Maybe I should change my shirt?" She says.

"No babe, you look fine... it's just my brother and his girlfriend," I say.

"No I know -wait I thought we were going to your mom's for Christmas," She says turning to look up at me.

"Tomorrow... tonight it's Peter's first, then we're heading over to Layne's," I say. I swear I told her so many times but she seems to keep forgetting.

"Right... right sorry... um... where is my...?" She trails off looking away and scanning the living room.

"...what?" I ask raising my eyebrow.

"... my... um you know...my bag?" She says and walks back over to the couch.

"It's right here babe," I say gesturing to the hook on the wall beside the door where she normally hangs it up. She turns back to me throwing her hands up and laughing to herself as she grabs it from the hook. "Are you ok?" I add.

"Yea why?" She asks as she slings it around her shoulder once again untucking her dark curls from under the strap. After a few moments she looks back up at me and I study her eyes for a few moments. She softly smiles at me and I reach up to brush a curl out of her eyes.

"Nothing, just asking," I lie. Truth is I'm worried about her. I'm worried that her forgetfulness lately is a sign that she might slip again. I'm worried about the meds she taking as well. It seems as soon as the doctor increased her dose, the memory problems started showing up. Maybe I'm making something out of nothing. But, now isn't the time to bring up this kind of stuff. It's Christmas eve and I just want to spend it with her.

"Ready?" She asks sweetly.

"Yea," I sigh and turn to open the door, letting her walk through first, then I close it and lock it behind me.

*****

"Hey brother, good to see you," Peter smiles at me when he opens the door and sees us standing with a bag of presents.

"Hey Peter," I smile and we embrace each other in a hug for a few moments. "Finally able to get time off huh?" He adds.

"Yea just a bit," I chuckle as he lets go of me and pats me on my shoulder.

"Hey you," Peter smiles at Andi.

"Hi," She smiles shyly and he leans in to give her a hug. "How is my lovely sister in law?" He adds and she giggles as they embrace for a few moments.

"I'm good," She says and he rubs her back, then pulls away from her as she pushes a few curls from her eyes.

"Um... So I gotta tell you something before I let you come inside," Peter says hesitantly, peaking inside first then gently closing the door behind him so that we were all standing outside on the porch together.

"What is it?" I ask furrowing my brow. Peter glances back and forth between me and Andi then lets out a long sigh.

"Ok I don't really know how to say this but... Dad... showed up," He says and suddenly It felt like the whole porch dropped away.

"Dad? You mean here...? He's here?" My voice begins to rise and Peter hushes me while Andi reaches for my hand.

"Yea, he's inside - "

"And you didn't slam the door in his face, I mean... c'mon Pete," I say. So many emotions were bubbling up inside me at this very moment and I had no idea what to do or how to handle it.

"I know, I know but - "

"But what Pete?"

"-Chris, will you just come inside? We'll just have a talk ok?"

"No fuck that shit. If he says one word to me - "

"Baby, hey... it's ok. I'm here, Peter's here nothings going to happen," Andi says sweetly trying to diffuse the situation. How the hell do I tell her it's not going to be ok? It hasn't been ok since.. well... ever.

"Chris, c'mon... it'll be fine. He's been completely fine... He's in a good mood. He just wanted to see us. He wants to see you," Peter says. I look away from the both of them and turn to glance out at the snowy Seattle street behind me, breath clouds bellowing from my lips as I try to calm myself down. If there is one person, one man in this world that can make me feel 3 inches tall it's that man inside.

"Chris...?" I hear Andi from behind me as she takes my hand again, lacing her fingers through. I close my eyes and exhale a long breath and decide to go in.

"Ok...ok. For you babe alright.... Let's just get get this over with," I look down at her, those beautiful dark eyes looking back at me comforting and calming. I turn back and see Peter giving me a half smile and I just shrug. He then opens the door and gestures for us to come inside. Andi squeezes my hand and walks with me inside as Peter closes the door behind us.

*****

Edward Francis Boyle sits opposite of me in the large living room of Peter's house. It's a strange feeling to be sitting across from him all these years. Well... strange is an understatement. Actually I have no idea how to describe my feelings as he sits in that large reading chair next to the tree with that familiar mustard glass of bourbon and coke in his hand.

He looks different from the last time I saw him, older and a little heavier. His hair still dark like mine but with streaks of grey and cut military short with a bit of curl to it. His eyes as blue as as mine but slightly glossed over. Probably the only thing I like that I inherited from him - without the glossiness I mean. He seems cordial and calm - for now anyways. He never was a man of words unless... well only when you got his attention one way or another, then he was a man of many words. If you count those fists as his words.

"So... I hear that your um... band has made quite a stir in the last couple of years," He says to me breaking me away from my reverie, his voice deep and raspy - most likely from all the years of drinking.

"Uh yea... sure," I say and take a sip of my beer, suddenly feeling awkward that I'm drinking around him - this time being that I'm legally able to, instead of him catching me at 12 like he used to.

"Good to see that you finally decided to clean up a little bit... take the ribbons out of your hair," He says and once again there is that little stabbing feeling that I would always get whenever he made those kinds of comments towards me.

"Well dad I'm glad I finally made you proud of me," I remark with sarcasm and take a sip of my beer. Andi then comes into the room with a glass of wine and sits down beside me pushing her curls behind her ear while my father and I glance at each other.

"Did I miss anything?" She asks sweetly looking back and forth between us.

"I was just telling Chris here that I um... it's good to see him. Especially with you, I mean you two seem really happy - "

" - I am dad," I say with a hardened expression and Andi glances at me. My father on the other hand looks down at his bourbon, twirling the glass like he used to do.

"Um... so Chris told me that you were a pharmacist?" She says after a few moments hold her wine glass in her lap and crossing her legs.

"Yea, been retired for a few years now though. Moved up further North and pretty much keep to myself. Gets lonely sometimes though, but um... Peter was saying you moved here from Canada right?" He asks her.

"Yea, I got into the scholarship program through my school and was accepted to Seattle U. I um graduated about a year ago now..." She explains with a smile and my father grins back at her.

"Well that's good, what's your major?" He smiles and I just take another sip of my beer.

"Music Theory and Composition with a minor in Marketing,"

"I assume you play?"

"A little," She smiles, which in an understatement to say the least.

"When Chris was little, Karen - his mother - signed him up for piano lessons and he was just... well he hated it at first, then that voice came out of nowhere..." He trails off and all I could do was just sit there and sip my beer.

"I think I'll go check on Pete -" I start to get up from the couch but he cuts me off

"You know, Chris I was only hard on you because I wanted you to make something of yourself," He says as I rise from the couch.

"I need another beer," I say and shuffle passed Andi and the coffee table as she moves her legs in.

"The road you were headed down - drinking, stealing... stealing my med samples out of the bathroom when you thought I wasn't looking - "

"You need another glass of wine babe?" I ask turning back to her ignoring the empty words coming out of his mouth.

"Look I know your angry but - "

"Angry? You think I'm just angry? Anger doesn't even begin to explain the hell I've been though the last fucking 17 years of my life. You think you can come here with your snide remarks about how much I've cleaned myself up and expect me to just forget all the shit you ever did to me - to us our entire lives?" I turn to face him sitting in that chair as he leans forward, Andi looking at him showing just how uncomfortable she feels which I don't exactly blame her, but I'm pissed and I'm tired of pretending.

"Son, that's why I'm here, to clear things up," He says looking up at me.

"To clear things up... huh. Well I got a fucking newsflash for you dad, I don't want to clear things up. I don't want anything from you - I used to but not anymore. I don't want or need anything from you, not your approval - nothing," I say and take the last sip of my beer and slam it down on the coffee table making Andi flinch.

"Son - "

"Don't fucking call me that. You don't get to call me that. I'm not your son," I couldn't keep it in anymore and I can't fucking be in this room or this house with him sitting right there the way he is, the way he always sits with that stupid glass in his hand.

"I need a fucking smoke," I mumble under my breath still trying to contain myself but if I stay in here any longer I'm gonna do something I'll regret. I turn and see Peter standing in the doorway of the kitchen with an empathetic look on his face and I couldn't help but suddenly feel guilty that I let my temper get the best of me so I grab my jacket and head out the front door.

*****

Leaning against my blue Chevy pick up, I take another long drag of my cigarette and exhale a cloud of smoke, kicking the wet snow and slush at my feet. Never in a million years did I think he would ever show his face to me again. This isn't exactly my idea of Christmas eve. After a few minutes of me listening to the random cars driving by with the sound of the slush covered streets, I hear the front door open and see my gorgeous wife slipping on her leather jacket, untucking her curls like she does and making her way down the front porch steps, carrying a plate with what looked like a slice of Apple pie.

"Hey you," I smile at her taking another drag of my cigarette and squinting my eyes from the smoke.

"Hey... want some?" She asks once she reaches me, standing in front and takes some pie on her fork, offering it to me. I exhale a cloud of smoke and give her a little smirk as she gives me that sweet doe eyed glance while I lean in and take a bite from her fork.

"Mmmm... mmm hmmm, fuck that's good pie," I say.

"Amy made it," She says and I give her a confused look "Peter... Peter's Amy,"

"Oh yea, right," I say feeling stupid I forgot Peter's girlfriend's name. She then offers me another bite and I take it, then takes a bite for herself.

"You ok?" She asks taking another bite. I then take another drag of my cigarette.

"I don't know," I exhale a cloud of smoke and look out at the street, watching the cars drive by.

"You wanna come back inside?" She asks taking another bite.

"No, not really," I say taking the last drag of my cigarette and butting it out in the slush at my feet.

"Want the last bite?" She asks so cutely which makes me chuckle. She holds out the last bite on her fork and I lean back in and take it from her.

Man that really is good pie.

She then places the fork on the plate and leans in closer to me, reaching around me to set the plate on the hood of the truck, then places her hands on my chest just inside my jacket, lifts herself up just a little and presses her lips to mine. Just as I slide my hands to the small of her back to pull her even closer to me, she gently breaks her lips from mine and I touch my forehead to hers, making sure the brim of my hat is out of the way.

"You know what makes me love you so much?" She says.

"No, what makes you love me... so much?" I ask, closing my eyes and inhaling the sweet scent of her perfume. She's wearing that chocolate one. The one that drives me crazy for her.

"You're sweet and kind. You make me laugh. You don't give a shit what anyone thinks. You have a heart so big that you put everyone ahead of yourself... sometimes to a fault but you never think twice about it. You are everything that I could ever want in a husband, a partner, a lover, a best friend. As unpredictable as I am and as messed up as I am, you are the one constant thing in my life that I know will never leave me..."

I exhale slowly listening to her voice and I swear there isn't anything in the world I wouldn't do for her.

"You are so much more than everyone gives you credit for. I just want you to remember that when certain people from your past come back to haunt you," She says.

"You know, you have a really good way of convincing me to take you home and making crazy incredibly hot monkey jungle sex with you," I chuckle and she starts to laugh throwing her head back and I couldn't help but place my lips to her throat. Suddenly the front door opens again and I quickly break my lips away from her to see Peter coming down the front porch steps.

"Sorry I hope I wasn't interrupting anything," Peter says awkwardly.

"No, no, not really," I say quickly as Andi back away from me and straightens her jacket out.

"Amy's got the food all ready to eat so, you wanna come back in? Or...?" Peter hesitates as he gestures to the porch.

"Um... no I think um... I think it's better that I head back home. We're supposed to head over to Layne and Demri's tonight anyways so..." I trail off feeling a little guilty.

"You sure?" He asks.

"Yea... yea I really just can't go back in there if he's there. Maybe someday but... I just can't," I say as Andi leans into me holding my hand.

"Are we ok?" Peter asks.

"Yes of course. You're my brother I'm not holding anything against you. If you want to to have a relationship with him, by all means don't stop on my account. I just... I can't with him," I explain and Peter nods. He looks down at himself for a moment then back at me and I can tell he feels horrible about what happened inside. I then let go of Andi's hand and pull Peter to me, embracing him in a hug. I may be younger than him but I still tower over him like when we were kids.

"I love you brother, " I say.

"I love you brother," He says back and we let each other go for Peter to embrace Andi. After they say their pleasantries and what not, - Andi telling Peter to tell Amy she said goodbye, and making sure that he brought back in the plate that was sitting on the hood - we then hop in my blue Chevy pick up while she flips on some tunes.

"Ok so, where to? Layne and Demri's now?" She asks.

"Nope. Home first," I say and she raises her eyebrow at me. "What...? I wasn't kidding about that hot monkey jungle sex,"

"Chris!" She laughs.

[in-my-head-i-do-everything-right]

Hallie - “you had it figured out since you were in school/everybody loves pretty, everybody loves cool.”

you’ve had it figured out since you were in school. everybody loves pretty, everybody loves cool

Part of the reason why Allie even sends in that self-tape for that Disney show is because Cassandra tells her not to. She’s feeling rebellious. She’s thirteen.

Only then she gets a callback. And then a skype call with a casting director. And then another call but with the creator of the show. And then she’s across the country, out in sunny LA (it’s December, and it’s snowing back in West Ham, and this shift in weather is really freaking her out).

She gets through one audition. And then two.

She gets the part.

And maybe the show won’t even last a whole season. Maybe it’ll be cancelled before it even airs. Maybe she’ll hate her castmates. Or just LA in general. And, God, she can’t sing. Does Disney know that? Do they expect a music career out of her? Maybe this is all she’ll ever be known for.

But then Cassandra tells her to go for it, and then her family packs up and moves across the country, and suddenly… suddenly this is it.

-

Post-Disney, the first film she does is this small budget indie thing that films on location up in Oregon.

There’s a definite learning curve.

First of all, craft services sucks. Which makes her sound like a snob, but God, she is so used to these mini chocolate croissants available at all times. Like, on the last day of shooting that Disney show, she asked what bakery they were from. One of her co-stars had laughed at her like it was some kind of joke which honestly hurt more than the show ending.

Second of all, nature. As it turns out, shooting outside and shooting on a lot is a very different experience. And shooting out in the rain, which it is always doing in Oregon—twenty-four seven—is an… experience. But a fun experience. Really fun. Makes her think that maybe she’s doesn’t need the job security that Disney provided. Like, fuck that.

And, last of all, Harry Bingham. He gets a whole bullet on this stupid list because he’s the guy who thinks he’s somehow better than her because he got an Oscar nomination or something for a film just like this one. And he was twitter’s white boy of the month, something he is way too proud of. Like, he can’t even remember his twitter password, so why the fuck does he keep bring it up?

-

It’s really late and dark and a little cold. They’re sharing a fuzzy blanket because they could only find one and they both wanted it and when someone on set suggests they just share it neither could come up with an actual argument as to that’s a bad idea.

“You know,” he says, sort of out of nowhere, “my sister watched your show. I think she might be in love with you.”

“Oh,” Allie says, and she’s smiling at him. Not for the first time because, sadly, because he is way too funny for his own good. It’s upsetting. It’s not fair. “So, unlike you, she has taste?”

He scoffs, but he’s smiling too, very brightly. Maybe she doesn’t need the blanket. “I never said I didn’t like your show.”

She stares over at him, not trying to mask that look of surprise taking over her face. She’s just trying to picture him actually watching the show… and it’s not easy. It was a Disney show. It was stupid and immature and Harry fuckingBingham was most definitely not its target audience. She’s trying to picture him watching those commercials, the ones where she’d draw the logo with the fake wand.

Finally, she says: “Honestly, I wasn’t a huge fan of it.”

Harry lets out this light sort of snort, more an exhale than anything else. “Why’d you do it then?”

Allie shrugs. “It was a job. It was an opportunity. It was a chance that wasn’t gonna pass up just because I didn’t think it was some revolutionary thing.” She pauses, wrapping herself up just a little tighter in the blanket. “My family moved out here after I got the job. I was fourteen, and they gave up everything just so I could do this.”

“You’re good at this, Pressman,” he tells her, softly, and it’s stupid how much those words mean to her.

“Thanks, Harry.”

When they’re called back onto set, she swears his eyes linger a second longer than they probably should. That means something to her too.

-

They film a kissing scene in the rain, and she swears her heart stop for a half-a-second.

The director yells cut, and Allie can’t help it, the way she’s blinking up at him, a bit like he hung the stars in the sky, or whatever other sappy bullshit you feel when you start to realize—

It just didn’t feel fake for a moment there. On Disney, everything felt fake. She’s just not used to things being this natural.

(There are two fuzzy blankets waiting for them off set. They still share.)

-

Shooting ends on a Tuesday, and they fly back down to LA together on a studio provided jet.

Harry spends the flight tossing popcorn at her while she tries to watch Notting Hill.

“You’re being obnoxious, Bingham,” she says, one earbud out, turning to glare over at him.

He grins. “Just trying to keep you from falling in love with Hugh Grant.”

“Not possible. I’m already in love with him.”

“He’s old now.”

“Still hotter than you.”

“Not possible.”

“Verry possible.”

He scoffs. “And living vicariously through Julia Roberts isn’t healthy.”

“Oh, you know from experience, don’t you?”

“I actually met her once, at the Oscars.”

“God, everything with you always comes back to that Oscar nomination, doesn’t it, Bingham.”

He lets out this sharp, surprised laugh. She bites back a smile.

“I’ll introduce you to her one day,” he offers, it’s softer, more genuine than cocky. They’ve never talked about any sort of future, any sort of friendship that follows them past this film. Her breath catches in her throat. Her heart stops once again.

“I think I’d like that.”

-

She has a tiny guest part on some broadcast television sitcom. Craft services has those chocolate croissants. She wraps herself up in a fuzzy blanket and eats three.

She asks Harry if he’d want to grab coffee sometime.

He texts back yes almost immediately.

She wraps herself up just a little tighter.

-

She sits on the couch in Harry’s childhood home and watches her Disney show with his little sister.

“You’re even prettier in person,” Sarah tells her, almost unabashedly, and Allie blushes a light pink.

From beside her, Harry grins. “The Bingham’s have taste,” he says, his voice almost a whisper in her ear, and that makes her blush a dark pink.

“Sarah’s my favorite Bingham,” Allie announces, and the girl smiles and laughs and leans her head on Allie’s shoulder.

This feels a lot like family, she realizes, the soft familiarity of it all.

She likes it. She likes it a lot.

-

The morning Oscar nominations are announced, she wakes up beside him in his bed, wearing an old shirt of his, something warm and soft.

They lay in bed and eat chocolate croissants and wait for the call. And the sun hasn’t even risen yet—it’s so fucking early—but there’s something like adrenaline keeping her awake. God, it’s so stupid to be this attached to an award, a little statue that means practically nothing, but…

Harry lays his head in her lap. She plays with his hair.

“And if I don’t get nominated?” she asks, softly, carefully.

He stares up at her. “Then you find another script to fall in love with and do it all over again.”

“And if I do get nominated?”

“Then we figure out how to sneak snacks in the Dolby Theater and you write into your acceptance speech what an amazing guy I am.”

She’s laughing as the phone rings, and he’s sitting up to answer it. And then he’s smiling, smiling so wide, and that means—

Allie’s crying and beaming, and Harry’s holding onto her like he’s trying to keep her anchored, trying to keep her from floating away, and—

It feels a whole lot like everything was worth it.

She’s happy.

send me song lyrics and a pairing and i’ll write you a drabble

[spotlessvast]

jetsam and flowers

        the boundary between winter and summer is ever so thin on a march day, but time moves like molasses on naked trees in lukewarm air. april teases you with hope and snatches it with rain of its final day, instead of giving rain to steptember to quench the dry grass previously scorched by flames. november and december feels more wintery than the real middle of winter, but it only ever snows in february anymore. life is delayed, and holiday shopping is no exception. i'm a stranger among sisters, and i haven't told them what i want yet. an adult among children, a child among adults. out of place everywhere i go.

        frigid december air eats at my already dry face and the only moisture left is the mist underneath my eyelashes. i pull my turtleneck over my nose and hesitate behind them. brick wall buildings are intimidating if they're just the right shade of red, with only steel and no wood. the bricks are a staple rather than an accent, and they clash with the cobalt all too well. inside the store is much warmer, and a little crowded. everyone runs off in different directions, but i stay in place while the whole store morphs around me.

        i don't want to be here, i thought. i don't like being here. i don't belong here. i already made a mistake showing myself to these girls and offering even the slightest of my obligations; now i can't escape. with eyes of an artist i observe every small detail in the faceless mannequins and faceless advertisements. consumerism is a soul-sucking disease. apparently, the younger you're exposed to it, the more it affects you.

        holiday shopping season is when i miss the summer the most. after the new year, all i see in front of me are days of pre-summer. i wait, and i watch, and i wait again. hoping that this next spring, this next summer, will happen the same with the same old people, except nothing bad happens this time. it's almost pathetic, but there's nothing else to do except wander and wait. summer comes around, and i'll end up hating the heat. it gets hotter and hotter each year, colder and colder each year, and earth's denizens continue to worry themselves. why is consumerism the only medicine they can find? don't they know it's temporary? don't they know it's—

        "excuse me sir, no loitering in the entrance."

        right, i'm still by the entrance.

        i'm outta this joint.

        hey, i don't like automatic spinning doors! i don't like self-playing pianos either! automatic spinning doors are less scary than self-playing pianos, but i see more automatic spinning doors in my life. and this store inside the mall had one. it must have been a really fancy one before undergoing renovation, because why else would it have an automatic spinning door? sidestep to the sway of glass walls, don't get crushed by bricks. avoid the consumerist death trap. i'm rewarded with warm april air and a pencil sunset.

        unconventionally. sunsets don't usually happen at this time of day during this time of year. it got dark before we even got to the store. however, this was unmistakably the same air as late april despite it being december when we walked in. i exhaust myself trying to figure out what the hell just happened, when i'm snapped back to the present by short haired guy bumping into my shoulder pretty damn hard. and first of all, ow. second of all, upon closer look it appears that i know this guy.

        he gathered himself and spoke; "long time no see."

        "haha, yeah."

        he didn't bump into me, he was knocked flying in my direction, and i realize that now upon hearing a voice as equally enraged as it was collected.

        the fancy-looking guy connected to the voice sighed, put his hands in his pockets, and sighed as a trail of smoke followed his footsteps. "well, this isn't the best place to continue a fight. we should move elsewhere." he paused, then made eye contact with me. "oh, hello there."

        i stare for a few seconds and then wave. "what the fuck are you two doing here?" i turn my head back to the entrance. it's no longer a mall, but a warehouse. who knows what could be inside it. either way, it does look like a good place to continue a fight, so why would he give it up now...?

        "what does it look like?" the short-haired guy said.

        "fighting."

        "precisely. also, he started it." the fancy-looking guy pointed at the short-haired guy.

        "haha, man. you must've done a number on him to get him all the way out here." i gave the short-haired guy a nudge to the side.

        "we have unfinished business," he said, matter-of-factly.

        i let them bicker it out for another two minutes while i shove my face against the window to the warehouse. it doesn't look like anyone's inside, but there's some lights on the ceiling and a bunch of junk scattered around. i go inside anyway, just to see if it'll take me back to the mall.

        it doesn't.

        funky.

        maybe i forgot the twists i went through on my way out. it'd make sense, though. i ended up in a different parking lot than i started in. malls are fucking huge. sometimes they have storage warehouses, but usually they're not so out in the open like that.

        what's weirder than the situation of my current whereabouts is the fact that i know these guys, but never learned their names. oh well, it's fair that they never learned mine, either. i just know them as "this guy" and "that guy," and they probably know me as "that motherfucker."

        "hey, so," i start. i wait for a response, but there is none. "y-"

        and then there's the response from the fancy-looking guy. "hm?"

        i pause. "a mall warehouse is a pretty damn good place for a fight, though."

        "but you shouldn't be in the middle of this fight," says the short-haired guy, slugging behind me.

        "so what? if one of you gets knocked into me, i could probably take it."

        there was silence.

        "if i may ask, what brings you here in the first place?" asks the short-haired guy.

        i shrug. "dunno." and i was telling the truth. i would've told him about holiday shopping, my family, but with every step i take i feel myself growing more and more distant from that. i never really liked spending winter with them, anyway. a liar among sisters. and it's not december anymore, anyway.

        a soft april breeze courses through the vast emptiness of the storage warehouse. that's how i can tell the most.

        time passes.

        time always passes.

        time passes, and we end up talking about things i don't care for talking about any longer. my throat is stuffed by ghosts of the past and wrung out with the presence of more friends who tagged along. i was told of a secret hiding spot near the outskirts of the city. an abandoned spot reincarnated to an underground mall with super fucking good pizza. or at least, that's what the guy with the fur collar said.

        he stumbled onto the conversation between myself and the short-haired guy and the fancy-looking guy and immediately caught them silent. he always dominated conversations, but had a knack for keeping the listener interested in what he had to say. or maybe i'm the only listener who cares, and i'm an exception who's easily entertained. either way, it's easy to get lost in his stories. i want that pizza.

        i tell him i wanna go there, and he leads me out of the warehouse. for a moment, we're the only two people in the world. in the next moment, we're surrounded by hurried shoppers exiting the store i walked into first. and i hate the atmosphere here, but he makes it bearable.

        ...but where did the others run off to?

        probably to finish their fight, or be petty.

        "where...are we?" asks the guy with the fur collar.

        "i dunno," i say, and i'm telling the truth. i don't remember the name of this place, or how i got here, i just know that i was here to pick up some things for some people that i don't give a shit about.

        i try to say more, but my breath runs out before my sentences can end. it's horrible. and suddenly, i'm alone again in a crowd of faceless consumerists running in and out. they get too close, and they'll infect me with their consumerist germs. i put my hands over my face to protect myself, but my hands are bare too. i cover my face like i'm about to cough into my arm, and run.

        i trip over a speed bump and land face first into a junk pile outside the ruins of a five-story parking lot.

        somehow, every scratch and bruise on my face, arms, and legs were more bearable than going home that night. am i even going home? home is a snare trap on my spinal cord.

        the fancy-looking guy grabs me by the shirt collar and pulls me up to eye contact. he narrows his gaze and stares needles through me. "you look like hell. what happened to you?"

        "a lot." i can speak now, but i'll have to limit my words. can't waste my breath. "friend's gone."

        he just sighs. "shouldn't you go home?"

        i flinch. i don't want to go home, so i shake my head side to side.

        his grip softens with his gaze, and i fall softly to the ground. my wounds hurt, though i can still walk. it's not like i'm going limp anytime soon, it's just a bit of blood. my top lip tastes like iron...

        following my instincts, i walk slow behind him. thinking about it now, he wanted to get away from me or just be left alone in general. those who want to go somewhere always look for directions, and i'll ask him for directions. i dunno what it is about him, but i can't leave him alone.

        beneath every step i take, the ground changes shape. what was once a tar road became a narrow dirt path with flowers tangling down and mossy rocks peeking out. the dirt turns into mud, and suddenly i'm walking through a lake while seasonless night sky reflects on the water's surface. i'm watching his footsteps. his shoes are getting wet, his socks are getting wet, and they look expensive. i feel sorry for him, almost.

        oh well, he could afford new socks and shoes. wouldn't even have to go through all the trouble of washing them.

        a wood fence turns into a brick wall and we walk out of the alleyway. no longer choked up, i try to speak again. i breathe in, and before i can say anything, he turns his head to face me and says; "what?"

        we sit down on the curb outside the mall.

        "did your parents hate you, too." a ghost spoke through my mouth.

        crestfallen, he said nothing. i caught a glimpse of a cut on his neck, just the size of a fingernail.

        who am i trying to escape? where am i trying to escape to? i don't need words from you. he's not saying anything. i want to go home to my friends. this world isn't real, and this unreal world is happening in all the right places at all the wrong times. april is the real beginning of the year, and september is the real end. everything in between is suspension between beginnings and ends, and i'm unsure what to do. did my parents hate me? did your parents hate you, too? are they even mine? i am a chameleon among the norm, and my faces aren't dictated by my own will.

        are you a social chameleon too? is it my choice to pile on images to fit a role?

        "we don't have parents."

        a pair of empty hands carry murky pond water in their palms as they ache to be touched by something real. who those hands belong to, is unknown.

        and somehow, i know.

        i don't have to go back inside to buy flowers.

        why couldn't it have been you, instead?

        and if i may see you once more in the past can i say "if you are to die soon or quickly can you die pretty" like a famous movie so i can rest against your shoulders, guiltless, and spill all my bottled up muddy secrets.

        the guy with the fur collar catches up to me with the rest of his ensemble. it's about time to go home. out of the corner of my eye i see three strangers pushing a full shopping cart.

[hvlfwygod]

boxing day | major & abel & lucien (& gabriele)

summary: a surprise opportunity, a battle, an exorcism, a close call, a rescue

tw: stabbing, blood, broken bones, it’s a lil nasty

His head hurt. There had been this pushing, insistent pressure building up behind his eyes all day, and he could barely focus anymore. He was walking back to the Hebe cabin, ready to go to bed despite the early hour. The sun had only just set, but he was squinting just enough to see in front of him, trying to block out the streetlights with his hands. As time went on (how long, he couldn't say) the pressure only got worse, though. It built up and built up and built up until he had to crouch down and put his head between his knees to fight off nausea.

It wasn't clear to Major how long he'd been in control, distracted as he was by the sensation of his head splitting open. It'd been so long since he'd been at the front of his own mind, he almost didn't believe it when he willed himself to move and his body reacted readily. But he didn't allow himself to marvel at it: like every other time this happened, Major had a lot to do and no time to do it. He'd already wasted who knows how long just sitting there, halfway between himself and someone else.

Even though his head was still hurting, Major moved fast. He scrambled for his phone and immediately abandoned the idea when he saw that it was— of course— not fucking charged. Instead, he ran the rest of the way back to the cabin.

"Syd!" he called, practically falling through the front door. But all the rooms were dark and no one was home. Feeling desperate, Major started moving again before knowing exactly where he was going. It became clear to him after a moment, though: some small part of him remembered the party, another lifetime ago, where he'd met Abel. Abel, the person who saw him, knew he was here, and was trying to get Lucien out.

Maybe being the one in control would make it easier. Major didn't know, but he had to try. He ran up and down familiar looking streets, knocked on a few wrong doors, until he finally made it to the right house. At least, he hoped so as he banged frantically on the front door.

December 26th. It was a day of rest after their busy week. Picking Bailey up from Michigan, doing their best to help her recover, hosting groups for Christmas Eve and then the day of. They felt that they had earned a day of nothing. Still, there was a knock on their door.

Abel cast a glance down at Soup. Roommates off on their own misadventures (aka, normal human socializing), the two were in the living room alone and, naturally, sitting in the dark. “You think I should ignore it too, right?”

The cat blinked and Abel sighed as they stood and crossed the room to answer the door. As they opened it, they immediately tensed. Their spear had to be close by; their shield even. Why would Lucien come looking for them if not for a fight. Gabriele had told them to wait, and yet here was the perfect opportunity, presenting itself. They grabbed Major almost without thinking, yanking him inside as they aimed to pin him up against a wall.

The small wave of relief at seeing Abel answer was quickly brushed aside as they reached for him. Major yelped as hands closed around his shirt and pulled him inside. He held their wrists for leverage and tried to stop himself from falling over as Abel pushed him up against the wall. "I'm not—" he struggled to form a sentence and forced himself to let go and hold his hands up. "It's... I'm Major. I know you're trying to..." He trailed off but gave Abel a pleading look. "I don't know how long I have."

Their eyes betrayed their emotions. Anger turned to skepticism to relief to understanding, and they only loosened their grip slightly. "Then come with me." They kicked the door closed before turning towards their room, afraid of letting their mind buffer for too long. If they could restrain Major, then by the time Lucien took control once more it would be too late for him to get away. "Tell me how I can help you."

"I don't know," he admitted in a small voice. It took him a moment to move again, but he eventually followed Abel further into the house. He crossed his arms tightly over his chest, as if trying to hold himself together. It was only when he placed his hands against his ribcage that he noticed how badly he was shaking. "I don't know. But if this doesn't work can you, tell my sister?" Major blinked a few times in a poor attempt to keep his eyes dry. "Her name is Sydney, she lives in the Hebe cabin."

They crossed the apartment into the room with a light, the warm glow of their snake tank almost sinister given the circumstances. Once in their room, Abel took no time to search for and then produce rope. "I've spoken to her already." This was not comforting, they realized, and exhaled as they decided to explain to Major more. "I... don't want to tell you much. In case he gets the information. But know that we're trying to help you, okay? I'm trying to figure out how to do something to him without doing something to you. You regenerate, ya?" They looked down at the rope in their hands. "Can I tie you up? It'll be easier to restrain him while you're willing, and then I won't lose him again."

Knowing that Syd was already aware and trying to get him back made Major nearly stop in his tracks. He almost bumped into something in the dark and stumbled into Abel's room as a few tears slid down his cheeks. "Okay," he said quietly. Major just nodded at Abel's explanation and lowered his hands. "Yeah," he answered. "I, think I heal faster, too, but if I—" His train of thought completely derailed mid-sentence, and Major pressed his eyes shut as a wave of anger washed over him. "You should start tying me up," he mumbled.

Abel looked at Major with sympathy but not pity. This wasn’t a job for a paycheck or personal reasons, it was a job to help a man who was going through something unimaginable. “If you...?” Abel prompted as they took Major’s wrist gently and moved his arm behind his back. The knots were less gentle. They wanted to make sure that they were tight enough to give Lucien a hard time.

He didn't respond right away, too busy focusing on not fighting Abel off. His head was hurting again, this time pulsing with increasingly sharp pains. "If I die I come back," he said, a little stiff and breathless, as if he were holding something heavy. "But I don't know how it works. What are you planning to do?"

The tinny ringing started, sharp and disarming for a moment, making Abel shake their head as they took pause, then continued. “I’m no killer. But I’ve never extracted a ghost from a human. I’ve been warned it could get... messy.”

A chill travelled down his spine. "Then I'll try to—" But whatever else Major had to say about that was lost. Lucien's reaction to this was enough to pull himself forward the rest of the way. He immediately acted, the last word still falling from his lips as he jerked his elbow upward, connecting somewhere on Abel's face. He yanked himself away and tried pulling at the ropes around his wrist to no avail. But his legs were free, so he started to sprint, heading back toward the front door.

Abel grabbed their face rather than at Lucien, then swore as they watched him run away. They staggered back, more disoriented from the blow than they thought they would be, but then forced themself to run forward after him, figuring knowing the layout would work to their advantage, as well as the fact that his hands were tied up. Should’ve done the legs first.

Lucien bit back a curse as he tripped over something, surely alerting Abel to exactly where he was. He gave up on going straight for the door, and instead pressed into the wall while he twisted his arms to grab at the knife on his waist. For everything else that had gone wrong tonight, at least Major hadn't let it slip that he had a weapon. He just barely managed to grab it and get it behind his back before he heard Abel approaching. He fumbled to turn the blade toward the ropes as he ran further into the apartment.

Abel watched as Lucien stumbled around. They hadn’t even considered that they’d have the advantage of being able to see when he couldn’t, but was glad that they could. Their spear was back in their room, and their shield by the door, but they took off after Lucien while reaching for their utility knife instead, afraid of him doing something if he ran into Soup. As they approached, they let the shadows engulf them, fading from vision, and kicked Lucien’s leg to knock him off balance.

One second Abel was there, and the next it was darkness, and then he felt a blow smash into his leg so hard that he immediately dropped to the floor. "Fuck!" he groaned. His head bounced off the floorboards and his knife—which he held onto for dear life— bit into his arm, drawing blood. He groaned and switched tactics again, deciding to stay on the ground and buy himself time. Lucien arched his back and tried pushing himself away from Abel a bit with his feet. He started cutting at his restraints as subtly as he could, glaring up at Abel as he did. "Fuck you," he sneered at them. A bit of the pressure released around his wrist. "If you try anything I'm dragging that motherfucker out with me.”

Abel moved forward and dropped down on top of Lucien, one knee against his chest. They grimaced at Lucien, almost as a way of showing their teeth than anything else. "You can't do that." They had no idea if he could do that, but they were pretty sure he was bluffing. "And if you could, don't you know I have friends in low places? He's not going anywhere."

He knew that his words would cause a reaction, but he hadn't expected Abel to come down so hard. Lucien grunted in frustration and then in pain. This time his grip on his knife was lost and he felt the blade cut into a hand. Lucien snarled back at Abel and tried to wriggle out from under them, grabbing hold of the knife once again despite the pain radiating throughout his palm. "No," Lucien struggled to catch his breath before he continued, "it's already too late."

“You really believe that?” Abel snarled back, grabbing Lucien by the hair. “Not only do I have to deal with an insolent ghost, but an ignorant one.” They brought their fist down towards his side.

Lucien's heart was racing with adrenaline, but he forced himself to stay calm. It was always moments like this where he lost his control, and he couldn't afford that right now. He writhed away from the blow and pulled his wrists with renewed vigor. He'd managed to cut it loose enough before that now the ropes broke after little resistance. Lucien leaned as much pressure as he could from one side of his body so he could lift his already-bloody hand out from under him. With a grunt of effort, he stabbed blindly at Abel's leg.

Abel yelled as they were stabbed, only holding tighter onto Lucien’s hair. You deserve this for not checking if he had weapons. This is textbook, Abel. They grunted and looked from their leg to Lucien. They could attack him and possibly incapacitate him, or they could disarm him, and keep the knife from leaving the wound. They went for Lucien’s wrist, trying to get him to let go of the knife without twisting their own body too much.

As soon as the grip released from his hair, Lucien started struggling more wildly, kicking his legs and twisting his body around in an attempt to get away. His other, more injured arm made it out from under him, numb and bloody and hard to use. The fight to break free also cost him his hold on the knife. Lucien made an angry sound and pounded his hand into Abel's other leg as he pried himself out from under their knee. He took in a ragged breath as he righted himself, but didn't waste his time. Practically trembling with anger, the thought of running away had completely left Lucien's mind. Instead, he tackled them. "It's too late," he repeated as he struggled to pin them down. "You should've just fucking— let me be!"

Abel prioritizing the knife and not moving it just made things complicated, they realized, when their balance was thrown off and they were looking up at Lucien, who was now holding their wrists down. They were bent backwards, already shifting the knife in the wound, and they inhaled sharply as they brought their good knee up, once and then again, trying to knock the wind out of Lucien as they tried to pull their hands free. They thanked the fact that they were in the dark, letting the shadows ebb around them, creating a barrier between the two.

His left hand was screaming as Lucien continued to apply pressure onto Abel's wrists. Teeth gnashing in determination, Lucien bore the blows to his body as best he could, but his arms couldn't keep Abel down. Their hands broke free as the second knee smashed into his ribs. Lucien quickly turned toward Abel's injured leg, gripped the handle of his knife, and pulled out the weapon roughly. I hope that hurt. He brought the knife back down— this time aimed at their chest— but a dark wall blocked his attack. "You've gotta be fucking kidding me."

The knife getting pulled out was pure agony, but Abel still managed to hold their shield up– it was a good thing too, as Lucien’s attack bounced off of it. Pride seemed to swell in Abel’s chest along with their fear. They were not about to be bested by an untrained ghost when they were a child of Hades who knew how to fight. As their shield began to fade, they formed a blade from the darkness, reached up to snatch Lucien’s wrist, and yanked to pull themself up as they pulled Lucien down, sending the dark blade into his shoulder, hoping to incapacitate this arm as well. “Λείπω,” they hissed as their face was close to their ear. “Or I will make you.” They grit their teeth, letting go of the shadow blade to hold a hand close to Lucien’s face, trying once again to force away the spirit within.

In another instant, Lucien was back on the floor and his shoulder seemed to partially explode. A pained cry escaped him involuntarily, but his voice died in his throat once Abel commanded him to leave. For a brief moment, Lucien's whole world went soft and shapeless, but he scrambled to come back to the moment. Ghosts swarmed in protest, trying like him to anchor themselves in their new body. A deep ache formed in Lucien's chest. "N...o..." he struggled, tasting metal as blood trickled out of the corner of his mouth. "You won't... get him back. You can't."

Abel kept their grip strong on Lucien’s wrist despite the way the resonance of the ghosts seemed to reverberate throughout them. They turned their head away so that they could bite down on the collar of their shirt, gnawing at the fabric in an attempt to better handle the pain. Instead of replying to his threat, they just anchored themself and pressed their hand into Lucien’s face, trying to find the right spirit to pull from the body.

Another unwilling wail rang out of Major's body: it wasn't his, or Lucien's, voice. His body jerked, trying desperately to get away. Lucien clawed at Abel's face with his free hand and started writhing. It felt like something, somewhere in his chest, was about to break apart and he could do nothing to stop it. "I'm not— going. I'm not—" This time, his cry was quieter, but far more pained and agitated. He heard a worrying snapping sound and then coughed up some more blood, right into Abel's hand and consequently all over his face.

The blood was concerning and disgusting, but what really worried Abel was the snap. They didn’t relent, however, not even as Lucien began to claw at their face. They had gotten a hold of something, and though it wasn’t Lucien, it needed to come out. They dropped Lucien’s wrist to press their hand into his middle, opting to create armor with shadow to protect themself instead as they pushed at the same time that they pulled. They were past overexerting themself, but they didn’t care. This was coming out, and Lucien was next. They bit down harder on their shirt.

An agonizing burn spread over his skin, and Lucien lost a few seconds of lucidity, and then whatever unlucky ghost that had been grabbed was gone. For a disorienting moment, he wasn't sure if he was really there, taking a few gasping inhales, if his body would move if he willed it. "Listen to me," he rasped quietly. Another gurgling noise, a muffled half-laugh, and Lucien's arm twitched upward but grasped at nothing. "Listen, I'm serious. He's not going to make it if they're all gonna be like this."

Abel came to the terrible realization that Lucien was right as they pulled out what they had a grip on. It wasn’t a full ghost, but a patchwork of a few, trembling as Abel barked at them to leave once more. With nothing to tether them, they sank into the ground, the parts of them that remained dismissed. There was no telling exactly how many more were inside this body, but Abel could tell that if every extraction went this way, Major’s regeneration might not be enough. Still, they didn’t want to give Lucien the satisfaction of a reply, so they jabbed at his head once, twice.

The lack of a response was enough for Lucien. He blinked through the stinging in his eyes and angled his head back so he was staring up into Abel’s face. “I’m not even talking about physically.” The longer he was still, the more this terrible ache settled in his torso— so he tried sliding up along the floor somewhat. “I was dead for a long time, do you know what that did to me? Your friends in low places, they ever tell you what it’s like?” He sneered. “Not all of me came back. I don’t know what, but I can just— I can tell, so when I woke up in this body with all these ghosts, and this whole other person...” Lucien tried to move more; he succeeded in inching his arm slightly, nothing else. “I filled in all the gaps. I took what I needed, and you can’t—“ He managed another laugh, grimacing through it. “I can’t even fucking tell anymore what’s me and what I took. If you pull me out, and he survives it, he’s not going to be the same person. He’s not, and he’ll always know something is missing but won’t ever know what. That’s what I mean when I say you’re too late.” Lucien finally saw a decent enough angle, and willed himself to move through the agony in his shoulder to thrust his arm— and the knife—  upward.

Pain as a knife found its way into Abel’s side. It was blocked and slowed by their armor, they were sure it would have been worse had they not had the hardened shadow to help them. But still, they could tell this was bad. They’d spent most of their adrenaline rush fighting, and now they weren’t sure if their leg was going to support their weight if they stood. Even so, Abel let out a spiteful laugh and pushed into the shadow knife, just burying it deeper into Lucien as they pulled him closer. “You come all this way just to give that shitty speech?” They growled, taking a ragged breath before continuing. “You have no idea who you’re talking to. I don’t need my friends to tell me what it’s like; I’ve been to hell and back myself.” They grasped the hair at the  back of Lucien’s head, then yanked his head back to force him to look at them. “A long time? Try being dead for three years. You know nothing.” Their mouth tasted metallic, but they just continued on. “I want you to look at me and know that some do not decompose. Just the weak.” Their eyes burned, both dark instead of their usual two tones. “You can’t fill in any gaps. He’s a whole person. You. Stupid. Fuck.” They released his hair and brought their fist down on the back of his head, much weaker than before, hoping that their stamina would win out over his.

Lucien was nearly delirious with pain, which might’ve explained why he continued laughing despite being hit again. His arm barely had any feeling left in it, which might’ve explained how he managed to rip the knife out of Abel’s side and stab them again, this time closer to their stomach. They had to be bluffing, they had to be. “Three years and you don’t know shit,” he slurred, pushing himself upright as best he could. “How’d you make it back, huh? How come that’s allowed and I’m not? Fuck you. Fuck you.” Lucien grabbed Abel’s shirt to pull himself up further and pushed them backwards. “If you get to decide if I live, do I get to decide that for you, too?”

As Lucien moved, Abel predicted his movements enough to concentrate their shield on their stomach, and the wound they retained was much more superficial than the others. They pushed themself up more, then winced, back down on one knee. There was no way they could stand on that leg, darkness empowering them or not. They were shaking, and the floor trembled with them. “I made it back because this is my body. What you’re doing right now, you are not living. You are a virus. παράσιτο,” they hissed. Shadows swelled around them, covering their arms, chest, half their face, seeping into their wounds. “I came back because I am Abel Benoit, child of Death. So you’re going to have to try harder to kill me.” They leaned back into the shadows, fully absorbed and invisible now, before lunging forward to get Lucien back on the ground.

What would keep them down? Every time Lucien got a little bit of leverage, Abel hit him back. As he slammed once again into the floor, desperation melted into anger and prompted him to reach for his assailant’s throat. “Give me a fucking break,” he snarled up at them. “I fucking waited, I waited and I held out and I made it back. I deserve to be here, I’m more alive than you and your reanimated fucking corpse. I care about living more than any of you.”

Even Abel, the ruler of waxing poetic, knew when the time for saying cool things was over in a fight. There was also the fact that there were hands around their throat, making it difficult for them to deliver a monologue. They drove two knuckles down into Lucien's windpipe, a quick but strong jab to keep him from breathing. They grinned down at him, letting the fact that they seemed unhindered speak for how well they could hold their breath since coming back.

His hands unlatched from Abel's throat a little too readily. Lucien couldn't do more than make choking sound to relay how pissed, frustrated, panicked he was. He struggled to take a breath and resume fighting, but his head was spinning too badly, and his control felt shaky at best. He wanted to punch Abel back, but his arms refused to move anymore. "Fuck off," he groaned through clenched teeth as the fight began to melt out of his body. Linnaea! he tried, frantic. Lin! Can you hear me? I need you. But she was too far away, or maybe he was already too far under, because he didn't get an answer before he completely lost control.

Major couldn't understand how his body had managed to hold out this long. But for as much pain he was in, he was grateful to still be conscious, since he'd had enough time to claw his way back to the surface. He took another few rattling inhales and pressed his eyes shut. "Abel," he wheezed. "I—" he coughed and tasted more blood, "sorry.”

As the hands fell away from their throat, Abel grabbed them to pin Lucien down fully, and soon they recognized that it was Major they were holding down instead. "As am I," they rasped back. The shadows melted away from them, and their head spun as they found the knife, cut into their shirt, and ripped it to make strips so they could begin tying Major up once more. They pocketed the pesky blade and did their best to tie knots with shaky fingers. "Are you as close to passing out as I am?" They found their phone, but the screen glitched as they tried to use it, and they held it out to Major, before realizing that he couldn't call anyone, as he was tied up. They laughed and hung their head. "Shit. Can you move your hands or did I do an effective job tying you up this time?"

In a matter of minutes, Major was leaning against a wall with his hands and ankles tied in front of him, and it was the safest he felt in months. He was overwhelmed with how badly his body hurt; his arms protested even the smallest movement, like taking Abel's phone. "You did it fine the first time," he mumbled, wincing as he lowered the phone into his lap. "It's my fault. I should've said he had a..." Major's eyes misted over as the gravity of what was happening hit him all over again. He felt so far away, and Lucien's taunts from earlier were replaying in his head. "Um. Who should I call?"

“Don’t say that any of this is your fault or you should have done anything. You don’t have to apologize.” Abel lowered onto the floor, curling up on their side as they heaved ragged breaths. “Um. My roommates. Or Gabriele. Or a healer. Someone like that.” Their eyes darted without their permission, and they sighed. “Thank you.”

It was hard to feel reassured by that when Abel was beside him looking so pained. Instead of dwelling on it, for now he focused on finding someone who could help. Major was tempted to call Syd, but he thought he might completely lose it if he talked to her, so he just found the only name Abel mentioned and switched to speaker phone.

Gabriele was in the middle of a jog when his phone started ringing. He checked the screen without breaking stride and frowned at Abel's name glowing back at him. If they were calling, it had to be serious. Gabriele slowed to a walk and answered. "Hello, friend, is everything okay?"

"Can you come to Abel's house?" Major asked, not bothering to even attempt explaining what was going on. "I think the door is unlocked. Please, it's important."

"Who is this?" Gabriele asked, already turning toward the townhouses.

He shifted and inhaled sharply as pain flared through his torso. "Major." 

A long silence followed this, then Gabriele finally responded. "I will be there in five minutes."

Abel’s eyes began to tick. Right, right, right, down. Right, right, right, down. They let their eyes half-close and focused on breathing through the pain. “Hey,” they said quietly to Major, pretty sure he was off the phone by now. “I’m sorry for taking so long on this, and I’m sorry for how much it’s hurting.” Their eyelids fluttered as they felt a familiar presence come and settle in against their stomach. “Where were you during that?” they jokingly chastised Soup quietly before continuing to Major. “And I don’t know how much you can retain while he’s... present, but I don’t want you to believe a word he says. He sounds really compelling, but so do demagogues, and you don’t listen to them, ya?” They rested a hand on Soup, hoping they wouldn’t get blood on his fur and worry their roommates when they got home. “You’re gonna feel different after this, but it’s not because he took something, it’s because that’s the human reaction.” A shudder ran through them, but their lips ticked upwards. “Do not go gentle into that good night, ya?”

Any feeble attempts Major had been making to keep himself together broke once Abel started speaking to him. He was so sick of this. He took a few shaking breaths as tears began to streak down his face. "Thanks," he mumbled, his voice breaking on the word. But as much as he appreciated their comfort, all Major could think about was how little time he had before he was pulled back under. "I'm trying my best."

It was almost five minutes on the dot when Gabriele shoved open the front door. He was breathless from sprinting, but he still rushed toward Abel's room, only stopping short once he found the two bodies sprawled on the ground in the hall. "Porco cane..." he whispered, dropping by Abel's side. He glanced toward Major, too, noting the restraints. "Explain later, what do I need to do?" he asked, looking between the both of them.

Abel wasn’t very good at comforting people, so they were quiet for the rest of the time as they waiting for Gab. Each second seemed to stretch on for ages, and they could feel themself being pulled under as Soup pressed himself into their stomach, causing them to hiss in pain, but thankful for something keeping them conscious. Their breathing was growing shallow when they heard someone enter their house, and they had regained control of their eye movements, but chose to keep them closed. “Hospital,” they said quietly. “Sorry, I should have called someone with a car.” Now that Gab was here, they relaxed a bit more, nearly melting into the floor. “I might... ambrosia in my room. Some drawer. Only a bit,” they muttered into the floor, their breathing slowing down more. “Can you leave a note for my roommates?”

Gabriele ran the rest of the way toward Abel's room. He emerged after a minute with the ambrosia, then propped Abel up slightly and fed them a few pieces. "I'll call for help. And tell them..." He glanced over to Major once again.

While Abel seemed to relax in Gabriele's presence, Major was more stiff and cautious than ever. Even though it'd be two against one, the last thing he wanted was for Lucien to slow everything down. "Just make sure he doesn't get away," he said when Gabriele looked at him. "I don't care what you have to do."

Gabriele nodded. "I'll take care of everything," he assured them both. "Major, sorry to meet again in such circumstances."

"Me, too," he muttered.

Before he did anything else, Gabriele called for his goddess. While she couldn't fully intervene, she helped move him along quicker than he could have managed on his own. He called an ambulance, wrote a note, and gently helped get Abel and Major into the truck once it arrived, all in a matter of minutes. He even found a set of keys and locked the front door on the way out. Gabriele charmed his way into the back of the ambulance and began to explain, as discreetly as he could, the importance of keeping an eye on one of the passengers in particular...

He wouldn't let himself get his hopes up. Major had taken control twice tonight, and both for prolonged periods of time. He'd never managed such a thing before, but he could feel Lucien's rage rumbling inside of him. He knew the moment the painkillers hit, he'd go under, and probably be unable to surface for a long time. A fresh wave of sadness rolled over him, but for once, Major didn't feel completely hopeless. Still, he wished he'd thanked Abel more, he wished he had more time. But everything he wanted to say would yet again go unheard, since it wasn't long until the pain started to fade out of his body, and Major finally passed out.

[winchester-purgatory]

Holiday guests | Dean Winchester (Part 3)

Sunday, December 23rd

Waking up to the smell of breakfast - eggs and bacon, to be precise - was unusual for Dean.

When they were kids, John would make efforts to cook his sons breakfast, either toasts or cereals, but now that his boys were grown ups, he didn’t bother trying. So, if Dean wanted breakfast, he’d have to prepare it himself. Most of the days, it resulted in a large cup of coffee.

Expecting to see Sam behind the stove, cooking some disgustingly healthy breakfast, the blond was met by a much shorter and red-er haired lady. She was taking a sip from her coffee while watching the sizzling eggs in the pan.

Dean’s lips curved a bit, memories rolling in. The scene reminded him of when they first met at Sam’s tiny apartment in Palo Alto. He had crashed on his brother’s couch and woke up to the redhead shattering a plate on Sam’s floor. Her long ginger hair and bare legs peeking from the oversized tee shirt will forever be engraved in Dean’s memory. She was a sight for sore eyes.

‘’Morning,’’ Dean said, breaking the silence.

Juliet jumped, startled by his hoarse morning voice. She turned around and pulled her eyebrows. ‘’Dean? What are you doing up before eleven? Did you become a morning person?’’

He huffed a laugh, walking further into the kitchen. ‘’Work,’’ the blond explained. ‘’Did you make coffee?’’

Juliet nodded. ‘’Help yourself. I’m making eggs. Want some?’’

As tempting as Juliet’s offer was, Dean had to decline. That breakfast smelled delicious though… And, there was bacon - Dean’s favorite beside pie - waiting to be cooked on the counter.

‘’Wish I could say yes, but I need to leave in five minutes.’’

‘’Wait, we’re Sunday?’’ the redhead realized, a frown between her eyebrows. ‘’You work on a Sunday?’’

‘’Yeah. The auto shop is closed, but I do towing on the weekends. Someone has to go and help those idiots who can’t handle the snow and slippery roads and got themselves stuck in a snow bank or the roadside.’’

Juliet chuckled. ‘’I agree.’’

Dean brought the hot cup of coffee to his lips and hummed. ‘’Damn , this coffee is good. Like, better than usual. What did you do to it?’’

‘’Ah! That’s a secret for me to keep,’’ she replied, a grin on her lips before returning to the stove, placing some eggs on a plate for herself.

Dean watched her as she moved around the kitchen. God, she was so beautiful. After not seeing her in two years, he had almost forgotten how much of a natural beauty Juliet was.  From where he was, he could see the freckles on her cheeks and nose, and the scar above her cheekbone. It was lighter than it used to be, faded from time.

‘’Well, I should get going.’’

‘’See you tonight, Dean.’’

.

Helping idiots out of snow banks and hoisting them on the towing was exhausting. Especially in winter. But, the more exhausting part wasn't the towing though, it was the owners of the towed car and that Dean had to take with him. Most were annoying and overly talkative - which quickly got on Dean's nerves. He was tempted more than once to dump them on the side of the road, but he'd get fired for it.

His first client was a middle aged woman who didn't have winter tires on her car. When Dean arrived on the scene and realized that, he wasn't surprised that she slipped on black ice and hit the road's borders. It's the middle of December and snowing like crazy. How can you expect to have full control of your car during a heavy snow and icy roads without winter tires? Idiots' logic like her made no sense to Dean. He has helped so many idiots of the same genre since the start of winter that he stopped counting.

For his second client, Dean was lucky and fell on someone he got along pretty well. The man had accidently hit a wild animal on his way home and, although the animal had run away, uninjured, the car's engine wouldn't start back on after the hit.

''It's an old car. I'm not surprised,'' the man, Benny, said as Dean turned on the towing truck, ready to leave the scene. ''It's not the first time it happens. Not that I purposely hit wild animals. They just love my car, I guess.''

''This road is prone to that. My dad used to be a ranger and he would get calls all the time to say deers were on the road,’’ Dean explained.

''You're from around here?''

Dean nodded. ''Lawrence, Kansas, born and raised, baby.'' He flashed Benny a proud smile. ‘’And you?’’

‘’I just moved her three months ago. I’m originally from San Jose.’’

‘’San Jose?’’ the blond repeated. ‘’Wow. That’s quite a big change of scenery.’’

‘’Yeah… My wife and I needed some change. We found a small house we liked in Lawrence and bought it on a whim. Most will say it’s kinda crazy, but it’s gonna be perfect to raise kids.’’

The conversation carried on as Dean drove, sharing his knowledge on the best burger places in town and where to not get beer after a long week of work. It was very important information for new-comers.

A familiar tunes came on the radio and Dean’s hands crisped on the steering wheel, trying to wash away the incoming flashback of him and Juliet singing to this exact song in his car during his stay in Palo Alto. Her sparkling eyes and red hair flowing from the wind and speed the car was going at.

He reached to turn it off, making his passenger raise an eyebrow.

''You're not a fan of classic rock?'' Benny asked.

Dean shook his head. ‘’I do. Just...old memories.’’

The elder man hummed. ‘’Past girlfriend, I’m guessing.’’

Dean flashed him a tight lipped smile. ‘’We can say that.’’

.

For dinner, John asked Dean to pick up burgers on the way home. What screamed more Winchester tradition than a good old burger for dinner? Add a beer and you have the perfect combo.

‘’The food is here!’’ Dean called as he walked in, carrying a brown paper bag holding everyone’s orders.

He shrugged off his winter layers and dove into the bag to grab his burger, taking a bite before even sitting down. He hummed, chewing his bite.

Sam came around to the table, Juliet following behind. ‘’Nice of you to wait for us.’’

Dean shrugged, unbothered. ‘’I was too hungry. I’ve been working all day, unlike you.’’

Sam rolled his eyes and sat down. ‘’Can you pass the bag, please?’’ Dean handed it to his brother but moved it away before Sam could grab it, laughing at his own childish behavior. Sam rolled his eyes. ‘’Dean.’’

‘’Where's Dad?’’ Dean asked, not seeing him around.

‘’He went to Bobby’s. He should be back soon,’’ Sam replied.

Dean hummed and reached into the bag. ‘’For the ladies,’’ he said, handing the last two burgers to Juliet and Sam.

Juliet took the burger from him. ‘’Thank you.’’

Dean smiled at her and pulled out his side of fry, frowning when he saw a lonely salad at the bottom. ‘’A salad? Who ordered a salad?’’

‘’Me,’’ Sam replied, this time taking the bag from his brother. ‘’You should try it some time. I’m sure it’ll be better for your cholesterol.’’

Dean scoffed, taking a couple fries and shoving them into his mouth. ‘’Salad is rabbit food. And, for your concerns, my cholesterol is just fine.’’

Juliet held her laugh, amused by the brothers' antics, and reached over the table and stole a fry from Dean.

.

It was almost midnight when Dean left his bedroom for a late snack, the burger and fries he had for dinner long gone from his stomach, to satisfy his late hunger before bed.

He walked down the hallway, thinking about the cereal bowl he was about to eat, and stopped in his tracks when he saw a figure in the living room. At first, he assumed it was his dad who had fallen asleep in his lazy-boy chair, but the quiet sobs told Dean it wasn’t John.

‘’Juliet?’’

‘’Fuck. Can’t you knock?’’ she hissed, turning her back from Dean.

‘’Sorry. I was on my way to get a snack and I- You okay?’’ He knew it was a stupid question to ask - she obviously was not okay -, but he had to ask. Give her an open door, in case she felt like talking.

‘’I’m crying in my best friend’s living room in the middle of the night, what do you think?’’ She shook her head. ''I'm not okay. I'm pretty far from okay.''

Just her luck, Dean wasn’t good with emotions and feelings. He's never been. He’s not good at comforting people either - the two go hand in hand -, but he couldn't let Juliet bath in her sadness. Seeing her cry like that was painful to watch.

Dean sat on the couch beside her, her quiet sobs tugging at his heart. ''Wanna talk about it?'' he offered tentatively. Maybe he won't know what to say to make her feel better, but he could always listen.

''You remember Damien?''

The elder Winchester tensed at the mention of Juliet's asshole ex-boyfriend.

''Well, I lied. Partially. I did break up with him, but he came to the café last week and caused a scene. He started yelling and-''

''Did he touch you?'' Dean interrupted, feeling his blood boil at the mere idea of this guy's dirty hands on Juliet. Damien had hurt her in the past, he certainly could do it again. Dean remembered the colorful bruise on her cheek when he visited Sam a couple years ago. It wasn't pretty.

She shook her head.

Dean sighed in relief. Good thing.

''Ben, a guy from the kitchen, got him to leave - bless him -, but I knew it wasn't over. It never is with Damien. After my shift at the café, I was too scared to go home and be by myself. I kept asking myself: what if he came here, you know? So, I went to Sam's. I've been staying at his place since that night. I didn't tell Sam what happened, he still doesn't know and I don't plan on telling him about the café incident. You know him, he'll want me to get a restraining order against Damien.''

‘’Wouldn’t be a good thing? A restraining order?’’

Juliet scoffed. ‘’It wouldn’t serve anything. It’s Damien. He doesn't care about laws and that kind of stuff. A piece of paper won’t keep him away from me. He’ll always find a way.’’

Dean had to fight the envy to go to California and kick his ass. Maybe then he’ll finally get the message and leave Juliet alone.

‘’I got a text from him today. Minutes ago, actually. He trashed my whole apartment. My landlord is going to kill me. I’m going to have to pay for all the damages fees. I’m going to have to find a new place too which is going to be difficult because they are going to call my old landlord and he’s gonna give me a bad note.’’

‘’Why don’t you stay with my brother a bit longer?’’

Juliet shook her head. ‘’I can’t invade his space forever. And, in case you forgot, Sam’s apartment is tiny.’’

He’ll give her that. There was just enough for a bed, couch and desk in that apartment. It’s so cramped. Two people couldn’t cohabit there, especially with Sam’s tall frame.

‘’I don’t know what I’m going to do. I-’’

Juliet’s tears started flowing again and, this time, Dean pulled the redhead into him. For a  moment, he thought he did a wrong move, that maybe he shouldn’t have done that, but Juliet responded instantly, wrapping her arm around his neck as his large hands rubbed up and down her back.

She cried into Dean’s chest, soaking his shirt, and Dean held her tighter, hating to see Juliet crying because of that guy. It wasn't the first time Dean confronted her following something Damien did.

After a few minutes, Juliet's tears slowed down and she pulled away from Dean, noticing the huge stain on his grey shirt. ''Sorry. I ruined your shirt...'' she pointed, wiping the remaining tears on her face with the back of her hands.

Dean shook his head. Fuck his shirt. It's just tears. ''Don't worry about it. It's just a shirt.''

‘’I’m such an idiot. This is all my fault. I shouldn’t have taken him back in the first place-’’

‘’Hey. You’re not an idiot, okay? You take dumb decisions, it’s all.’’

Juliet chuckled slightly, allowing herself to be distracted from her issues for a few seconds. ‘’I go home in three days. What am I gonna do? I wish Charlie was here…’’

‘’Let’s go for a ride.’’

Juliet looked at him as if he was crazy. ‘’It’s past midnight in the middle of winter. We can’t just go for a ride, Dean.’’

The latter shrugged, seeing no problems. ‘’So? Put on your boots and jacket and let’s go. Snow’s not gonna eat us, you now?’’

‘’I don’t know… It’s snowing a lot and the roads must be icy.’’

‘’We’ll take the truck if it makes you feel safer. Come on.’’ Dean nodded his head in the direction of the door.

‘’Driving around always helps me clear my head,’’ the blond explained. ‘’We can even stop for a midnight snack if there’s anything open on our way.’’

.

Still in their pajamas, Dean drove around Lawrence, soft rock music playing as Juliet watching the large snowflakes sticking to the truck's window. A bag of half finished chips rested on her lap, munching on it every now and then.  Sometimes, she'd hum to the music, making Dean smile and wish the Damien drama had never happened. If it hadn't been from him, maybe he and Juliet would be together. Instead, he had to pick up the mess Damien made and comfort the beautiful girl he wasn't able to love properly.

‘’Juliet?’’ She turned and looked up at Dean. ''I think that if you love someone, you should never hurt them. Simple as that. But some people just can't get this right.''

[lockdownuk]

Lockdown Diary Part 9

A personal account during the lockdown in the UK due to the Covid-19 outbreak.

23/03/2020 8:30pm Boris Johnson, UK Prime Minister, gives a live address to the nation to, effectively, put the country on lockdown to stem the spread of the deadly coronavirus strain, Covid-19.

Many of us have been self-isolating for days but this latest development within the UK in reaction to the pandemic feels very serious and very scary. I decided to keep a simple diary and where better but online.

Day 241: Shit day at work. To cut a long story short, I could complete a task Sueanne gave to me and then I got it in the ear, including a snotty email ay 5:40pm. Pissed off.

Day 242: Had a meeting with Sueanne (our weekly 1-2-1 actually) and she was alright. I feel much better tonight. Last night I didn’t even have an appetitie - unheard of! Going to make up for that tonight, pie and loads of veg! A much better day. Ridiculously, I believe yesterday was all my own fault - I take work for granted sometimes and I let myself down by ignoring the urgency of a task just because it was Sueanne asking me to do it and she was a peer. She is now my boss, and I should respect that.

Day 243: So-so day at work. It’s strange how used to work I am after over six months on furlough. It’s been less than two months back but all the highs and lows amd frustrations are commonplace. Most importantly, it being Thursday, I cannot wait for tomorrow eveninga dn to kick back, drink and smoke. Spoke to dad this morning, he’s same as...that’s always good to know. Sugar levels have been a fucking roller coaster today, and it has really fucked me off! No salad at lunch due to them being so fucking high when I got back from my walk. It ended up being my tea. Sarted watching The Undoing...it’s OK. 

Day 244: Glad it is Friday. Just cooking a (very hot) chicken madras, cracked open my first beer. Gonna eat, drink, smoke and watch a good film.

Day 245: Gold was the film I watched last night, with Matthew McConaughey and it was a good choice. I then watch a Kevin Hart stand up show on Netflix...very Eddie Murphy, very funny. I did a 12 km walk today...fucking felt it in my legs. Walked the footpath from Stoke Doyle road to Benefield road for the first time. I liked it and it comes out between Lytham Park and Wakerley Close....I posted on FB about the fact that when I move to Oundle, Clifton Drive was the last street heading out of town. Saw Becks on the walk down Benefield road, She mentioned she’s tired of lockdown. I replied that I’m tired of the virus!

Day 246: Up at 1pm, nice long walk, ordered new slippers and waterproof jacket (my Craghopper is bust again).

Day 247: I screwed up at work today, went for a (ridiculously) late lunch right when I was meant to be at an online meeting that Sueanne had reminded me about in the morning. There’s mitigation but, when push comes to shove, I fucked up and now Sueanne’s on the warpath - one more slip up and it’ll be an offical disciplinary matter. 

Day 248: Suzanne wants me to troubleshoot a ticket she has in her queue, some database request for a Cork guy. It’s a test and it’s fucking me off.

I did testing for a network change tonight...8 till 11:15pm.

Elliot and Aaron cleaned the windows today. It was nice to see them.

Rita sent a couple of emails recently. Dad’s ear is all clear but Paul has got testicular cancer.

Day 249: New waterproof jacket arrived today. It’s very nice, bargain for £25 odd. Also picked up slippers from M&S food hall in Corby so, while over their, did a shop at Tesco’s...£109 mainly booze.

By the time I was back, I ended up doing my evening walk at 9.30pm!

Day 250: Leigh from Oundle Chronicle has got back to me. She (he?) has selected the photos that are going to be in the article and wants me to write a sentence on each - where they were taken and what inspited me to do so. Whether that means the stuff I wrote before is not going to be used, or not, I dunno! New slippers are OK and the new jacket is still impressing me.

Day 251: Typing on Day 252. Usual Friday, beers, meatballs, pizza, long chat with Fog. I should mention that, as we approach the end of Lockdown2 in England, Boris and his government have laid out a three tier structure for how the second lockdown will be eased. It’s caused confusion and consternation across the board. None of it affects me, still isolating like I was on day 1. Day 252: Totally forgot about my diary entry yesterday! Up at 1pm, nice long walk, nipped rong Elliots to pay for my windows, had a chat with him, Artron and Camilla - it’s so nice to socialise! Gonna make fish pie and supp a few ales. Day 253: The weekend is over way too quickly. It’s 7.30pm on Sunday as I type and I wish it wasn’t. I wish it was 7.30pm on Friday. Day 254: In a meeting, a working Zoom, with Andy Ashler in the US re: qfiniti, which Sueanne pissed me off about earlier in te day (RCI diary updated), but the meeting went well. I am desparately trying to buy an iPad on Black Monday. As usual with tech, I cannot make my mind up which to buy! Day 255: I haven’t bought an iPad....I’ll wait for the 10.2″ iPad to come down in price. I had more involvement with Andy Ashler and in the US with the Qfiniti project at work. I’m really enjoying it, it’s very technical...although I didn’t finish ‘til 6pm because of it. The Oundle Chronicle is out and an article about me and my pics is on the back page. Leigh, the editor, sent it to me electronically. It’s good. I am chuffed!  Day 256: I booked some holidays today, making sure that I didn’t include any days off in the week December 14-18 (SB’s off). So, this coming Friday (4th Dec), Next Weds-Fri and Monday 21st. I know I have only been back from Furlough a couple of months but I am more than ready for some kick-back time.  1-2-1 with SB today, it was a relaxed affair, most espcially becaus eof my success thus far with the Qfiniti project - that being said, I got pretty much nowhere with it today.  Ordered a couple of long sleeved Ts and a fleeced hoody from a shop called Doubletwo today, well cheap in the sale. I saw half a dozen joggers on the Milton Road blind bend tonight, oblivious to any other potential path user. I posted about it (in my own, sarcastic way) on the Oundle Chatter FB group. It was met how I’d expected plus some direct digs so I deleted it. Cowardly but, I figure, I don’t get my point across, the vast majority of joggers really don’t think they are doing anything wrong by bulldozing there way around town and, lastly, I couldn’t be bothered with the flak, and its tennis like back-and-forth!

Day 257: Got tomorrow off so worked late tying up loose ends, including the qfiniti project - fucking nuts really, making sure no one asks any questions of SB or the team, in terms of my work load, for just one day off! Still, just had tea, cracked open a beer and am watching Shaun of the Dead. Nice.

Day 258: The main thing I did today is walk. It was about 12km but felt much longer ‘cos it was wintry, pissing down, windy and slippery as fuck. And I really enjoyed it! Badge messaged me today to ask how I am and, in replying, I mentioned that I think I am becoming addicted to walking...it wasn’t a throwaway comment. Just cooked up a chilli (which I think I have ruined with a Knorr beef stock pot), and will tuck in with beers, smokes and telly. While it’s been a day off, this Friday evening will be as all others are at the moment, late, drunken and solitary fun - no doubt.

Day 259: Typing on day 260. That chilli last night was actually OK. Plus I ‘invented’ a meatball wrap - moving on from the TikTok ham and cheese wrap you fold into the toaster, I tried the same with meatballs but no fucking way could I fold it into the toaster slot (pissed up kitchen shenanigans), so I wrapped it in tin foil and heated it in the oven, Fucking delicious. I watched Shaun of the Dead. I think it’s the first time since its release and I couldn’t help thinking “zombies just aren’t like that [in real life]” Wtf?

Day 260: I was quite sensible (for a Saturday) last night, in bed by 2am, up at my alarm this morning, 10:30am. Nice long walk, taking in a new path up by Biggin Grange and took plenty of pics that turned out really good. Btw, posh lost yesterday at Portsmouth (with 2000 fans there) and they lost midweek and last weekend in the FA Cup to Chorley, at home. 

Day 261: It’s freezing today...actually 0 degrees. This house is so fucking cold, even with the heating on.

Day 262: Typing on day 263. Last day of work for 5 days. Beers are in order. And a sausage casserole. Day 263: I completely forgot to do a diary entry yesterday....concentrating on starting my work break off on the right foot, which I did. As a result, I didn’t get up until 1pm. So, to stop that sort of day wasting, no beers tonight. Just got back from a shop (£90 in Tesco’s), trying to sort out Romiley’s Christmas present, then something to eat (more sausage casserole) and a early, sober night.

Day 264: So, after abstinence last night, I was up before 11am and did a walk that included the track from Benefield Road to Monson Way past Park Wood. It was fucking hard work due to mud. I have lost coumd the amount of times I nearly slipped right over. Throw into that a hypo, the 12-13km walk was tough. Sorted out Romiley’s present (guitar stand, music stand and guitar exercises book). Took soime nice photos today as well which I’ve prepared and shared. No booze today/tonight either. Some break, a younger me would say!

Day 265: Friday, and I am typing with a beer, balti on the hob and I am just gonna choose a film and roll a single skinner. I am knackered. Up at 10am, cleaned the hall and stairs after a 10km walk. Also, I spoke with dad who is, as always, fine.

Time to make up for the last two sober nights.

Day 266: I am typing this on day 267. So drunk last night I left nearll a full can of beer and went to bed in my jogging bottoms and t-shirt. I have had a day off from any exercise at all which felt very odd. A few beers and watched Snatch. Day 267: While I was nowhere near drunk last night, due to sleeping in late (2pm) I was up ‘til 3am watching TikTok so today I struggled out of bed at just before 1pm. Watch the start of the season’s final GP (Verstappen won from pole and it was boring af), back on the exercising including a 9km walk. Back to work tomorrow which I feel totally conflicted about! Posh won yesterday at home to Rochdale (with the allowed 2000 fans) 4-1 including a 17 minute first half hatrick from Jonson Clarke-Harris.

Day 268: Back to work - Sueanne’s off and it’s the first day I’ve been at work with Jon in charge which involves a daily ‘SUMO’ (whatever that acronym stands for?) at 9.30am every day. I am still involved with te qfiniti upgrade project which seems to have taken a step backwards in the 3 days I had off, so I was working until gone 9.30pm! I have decided to do a quiz, hopefully for Christmas, whereby I don’t want the actual answers (to 25 particular questions, all with a common theme in the answer), merely an omitted question!  

Day 269: Stand Up Meeting Online. SUMO. Ian Bird told me. I might struggle with double Y for my quiz. Work was OK, more Qfiniti stuff. Posh drew away to MK 1-1. Posh were 0-1 up but Lincs lost at home. I can’t undertsand why that pleases me so....oh, yeah I can Steve Dee.

Day 270: Struggling to order Dad and Rita booze for Christmas without it being a Morrison’s delivery that I can do through Amazon Prime. That would be OK but it’s just a bit clinical! Meanwhile, now I am paying for Prime, and they are showing some Premiership games (for example, tonight I watched Liverpool v. Spurs (2-1), I really have to contact Sky - I am paying £71pm atm! Sam posted pic of her Christmas tree but mentioned how she’s finding it hard to get in the spirit - Paul has testicular cancer and the outlook is bleak - fuck know’s what she’s going through with all that, trying to shield Romiley from the worst without lying!

[cilliansaccent]

The Peaky Designer - Cillian Fanfic, Chapter 3

Hello, welcome back. Below is the next instalment of my fanfiction!

Leave a like or a comment if you liked it, or if I can do anything better! Please, it would mean the world and to understand if anyone is enjoying my writing. Also, sharing/reblogging would be even better. 

PLEASE READ:

I will not be including Cillian’s family as it’s kinda weird since he has children lmao. Just a mention of his parents and a previous lover.

I will indicate in a chapter if there is smut in the beginning and before the actual scene!!

I will add trigger warnings if there is any!!

There is a variety of levels of swearing during a chapter, I will not hold back, everyone swears.

The timestamp for the Fic is now 2016 and onwards!! 

——- ——- ——- ——- ——- ——- ——- ——- ——- ——- ——- ——- ——-

Background: Gabrijela Babic is a Croatian girl from Sydney, Australia. She is born in the year 1991 on the 24th of December. She studies a Fashion degree in a University with a major in Game Design as well. Her teacher in the fashion designer class managed to nail an Internship on the set of Peaky Blinders with the shows very own Costume Designer, Allison McCosh. There, she travels to London for under a year to learn how to be one, working alongside the actors as well the man she admires, Cillian Murphy. But, her platonic feelings for the man begins to grow into something more, and she wonders whether she should pursue them or let him go for fear of her strict parents and her three older brothers…

Characters:

Swantje Paulina as Gabrijela Babic (swalina on Instagram)

Cillian Murphy

Word Count: 3,869

!!Warnings!!: None. 

Date: March 2016

Chapter Name: A Heat of the Moment 

Brief Chapter Outline: Cillian meets Gabrijela’s best friend while both are still in bed before they head out for breakfast. Their morning ends with time spent at a local park where things begin to spice up between the pair... 

——- ——- ——- ——- ——- ——- ——- ——- ——- ——- ——- ——- ——-

During the night, Gabrijela had a nightmare. She woke up crying out which startled Cillian and he had her gathered in his arms, hushing her and reminding her where she was and who she was with. 

He had made tea after that, and she had checked her phone to see what time it was. Around four in the morning. 

Together they sat back in bed after she refreshed herself in the bathroom, his arm around her, she clutched her tea and sipped it slowly. 

They soon went to bed afterwards, and she was all snuggled and warm once again in his arms. 

Came morning, she was scrolling through her Instagram and Facebook, replying to messages. 

Cillian stayed in bed with her and was chatting on the phone to someone. Sounded important, she thought. 

He hung up and sighed, rubbing his eyes, "Later today I have to drive up to Manchester." He said. 

"For filming?" She set her phone down, her heart sinking a little. 

"Mhm," he laid back down on the bed, and she rolled on to her side, facing him. 

"How will I get there? Or is there like an office here?" She asked. "As you can tell, I didn't read the letter again." She laughed softly. 

"You'll catch the train, I believe. You'll have to pay, as the rent for this apartment is all covered by the show. Is that fine?" Cillian asked. 

"Oh, sure! Yes, it's fine. I saved up as much as I could, and my dad gave me extra money, plus he gives me an additional fifty bucks a week." She said. 

"Oh, that's nice. I don't really know how much that is in pounds but seems a lot." He smiled, admiring her features. He was quite shocked and mesmerised how many freckles she had, so he asked, "I'm guessing you got the perks of your mothers side, huh?" 

She puffed out her cheeks, "Yeah. Lotsa freckles. And uh... Yeah." She was about to say good assets to but bit her tongue back. "Though, I was bullied as a child for it all. And as I got older, I discovered the magic of makeup. Covered the whole lot." She said, shaking her head. "But then I met my best friend who psyched me up, made me confident and to love myself." 

"And you should. There isn't anything wrong with how you look, or what you have." His voice was soft and still had that rugged sleepy tone. Made her feel... things. 

Her skin pricked when she felt his fingers glide through her messy bed hair, she stared into his eyes once more. Finding herself lost in them and hadn't realised he had moved closer. Or did she? 

But the sound of her phone ringing made them jump away from each other, he cleared his throat. 

Gabrijela picked up and her best friend, Lucia, let out a gasp. 

"Hey! Wait- Oh my god whos that?!" 

Gabrijela forgot for a whole second there that she could see Cillian beside her, "No one!" Gab clutched the phone to her chest. 

"Hey! HEY! No use hiding now, I saw it all girl! Lemme see! Hi random guy!" Lucia cried. 

"It's fine," Cillian chuckled when Gab gave him an apologetic look. 

She pulled the phone away and directed it at Cillian, who seriously looked like he was doing more than sleeping with his messy hair and sleepy eyes. 

"Finally, better than seeing your tits, Gabbie. Hi, hi, I'm Lucia." The dark-skinned girl with wild black hair waved excitedly through the phone. 

"Hello, Lucia. I'm Cillian." He waved back. 

"Goodness! I know! Oh my goodness! Gabbie! Scandalous!!" Lucia laughed, "Holy crap. Oh." She spoke in Spanish, and for a few minutes, they stared at the ceiling. 

Gabrijela was blushing like mad, "God she's mad. I'm so sorry." 

"Don't be, it's seriously okay," he got up and stretched. She couldn't help look at his butt. 

It was cute. 

"Hey, where'd he go? I got some questions! Why are you in bed with each other huh? Gab I need answers." Lucia came back into the frame, her brows high up and questioning look in her dark eyes. 

"Nothing happened, my god. So fucking horny." She muttered so Cillian couldn't hear. 

He went into the bathroom, the door shut a little. 

"You two seemed to have had a rumble of some sort." Lucia chided as Gabrijela popped on her Airpods. 

"Nooo, no fair!" Lucia whined. 

"Nope. Not allowed." Gabrijela laid on her side, legs pulled up a little. 

"Please tell me why then? If you didn't do anything then why? How'd you meet? Have you started the internship yet?" Lucia laid out the questions. 

"He picked me up at the airport, yesterday we spend the afternoon together and went for dinner and then... I guess he stayed the night because it was awfully late." Gabrijela wasn't going to tell Lucia what happened in the pub. She didn't want to stress her bestie out anymore. 

"Oh, yes. It was late." Lucia annunciated with a wink and air quotes with her fingers. 

"It was! I offered him to stay." She whispered it was more like an angry hiss. "Honestly, you're such a pain in the ass." She groaned. 

"But a fantastic pain in the ass! You love me!" She beamed. 

"Yeah, that's true." She laughed softly before Lucia delved into a different subject, about some guy she managed to nail the night before at some house party she went to. 

Cillian came back out of the bathroom and had a view of Gabrijela's ass. She hadn't noticed he stared at her, this... sudden need for her weaved through him and he quickly turned to go to the kitchen. 

What the fuck, he thought as he made coffee for the both of them, what was wrong with him? She was so out of his league and he shouldn't even come out of the bathroom until she moved. 

But it seemed it would have been a while when thirty minutes later she hung up and got up from the bed. 

"God, she can talk." She huffed as she came to the kitchen, and he handed her the mug of coffee. He made it his way so he hoped she liked it. 

"She seems quite uh, outgoing." He said, sipping his coffee. 

"Yeah. She is. But I think she was very hyper because she saw you. She's a massive fan." She leaned against the door frame of the kitchen. 

"So, she's your best friend?" He continued. 

"Yeah. She's twenty-three but thanks to our parents who know each other, we literally grew up together. She's like my little sister, but more... wild. She hates having foundations and loves being taken on the wind, so she says." 

"That's sweet. I guess that life suits some people." He stated with a slight shrug. 

"Yeah. My other three friends have a partner, three marriages next year." She laughed softly. I'm a bridesmaid for one." 

"Oh? You said three are getting married. Busy year." He blinked with surprise. 

"Oh yeah, very. Three different outfits. One is getting married in February, so it'll be summer. The one in July, and the other September." She shook her head. 

"Damn. One in each season almost. Gifts too?" He finished his coffee. 

"Yep. They did this deliberately, in the same year. Two will be at the same function rooms, the other is more country-styled as she lives in the countryside. If I was also getting married, I think I would've been sucked into doing it in the same year too." She shuddered, "I wouldn't want that. I'll have my own year." 

"Yeah. I'd agree on that. Would be too much." Cillian nodded. 

"Oh well, at least I can find an outfit here for the weddings. Get something... Different. Or well, depends if I have enough money on the end after my shopping spree." She set her empty cup into the sink and washed up. 

"So, should I make breakfast or...?" Gabrijela asked. 

"I thought we should go out for breakfast. There's a nice pub down the road but I can assure you there won't be any--"

"It's fine. I'm sure it'll be amazing." She turned to him, giving him a reassuring smile. 

He closed his mouth and smiled, "Alright. I'll get myself dressed, I guess it'll be the same thing as yesterday." He hummed and went to fetch his clothing. 

Gabrijela grabbed some black jeans, a short-sleeved cream sweatshirt, on top a checkered black and white shirt and then an oversized denim jacket on top of it all. 

She pulled on her Doc Martins and a small crossbody bag enough for her wallet, phone and her passport. 

"Ready." She smiled and the pair headed out. 

The pub had an okay crowd, still had the creepy old man vibe but maybe she was still shaken up from last night. 

Cillian kept close to her side, his hand brushing along hers to remind her he was there. They took a table outside instead of inside. 

She picked up the menu and looked through it, "I'll have the big breakfast." She said. 

"Okay, what about a drink?" He asked, already knowing what he wants. 

"Mocha, please. Skim milk." She replied as she set the menu down. 

He nodded and got up to order inside. He came back after a moment before his phone rang up. 

He picked up, "Hey Sile." He said, his Irish accent spiked at the name. 

She remembered he had two younger sisters, this must be one of them. 

"Yeah... Yeah thank you, I'd love that..." He laughed, "Oh, god okay. Tell mum and dad I said hi and I love them... Thank you, gonna be a long couple of months ahead. See you, Sil." He said and hung up. 

"Who was that?" Gabrijela asked, even if she had an idea who. 

"My sister. Wishing me all the best for the upcoming months said she might come down with Orla, my other sister, and visit me." He said with a happy smile, he seemed to light up when he spoke about his family. 

"Awh! How cute! Maybe I should say hi," Gab gave him a cheeky smile. Their drinks were set in front of them. 

"Of course you can. They would love to meet you." Cillian agreed with her despite she was only kidding. 

"Oh-Oh yeah okay." She took her cup and took a drink of it. Perfect balance. 

As they continued to chat about this and that, some girls came up to the table. 

The brunette had a heavy accent, "Mr Murphy? Hi, I-I'm a big fan of you a-and I was w-wondering if you c-could sign this f-for me?" She held out a photograph of him as Thomas Shelby. 

Behind, her mother it seemed, was giving her an encouraging smiled as the other two girls seemed to do the same, holding out their own things for him to sign. 

Cillian seemed suddenly nervous and gave a look at Gabrijela, "Go ahead." Gab said, nodding a little. 

He smiled and signed the items, answering the fans questions but had politely declined a photograph with them. He gave them all hugs and they seemed to bloom with utter joy as they all giggled and hurried along with the older woman. 

"You wouldn't believe it but I get fans following me sometimes." He said as he turned back to Gabrijela. 

"Oh?" She snickered as their food came. 

"Yeah. I'm not too fond of it though. But it's not too much of a nuisance, not in London anyway. Where we film there's a lot of fans that hang around, hoping to catch a glimpse or for me to sign something." He said, smacking his lips in a 'tsk' sound. 

"But no photos?" She tilted her head to the side as she cut up her sausages. 

"No. I'd rather give a hug or sign, better for them to remember the moment." He explained. 

"True, but I'd always love a photo. I'd cherish that just as much as a moment, but that's just me." She said eating her food. 

"How about now? The past two days with me?" He looked up and paused from taking a bite out of his toast. 

She smiled as she gazed down at her food, "Cillian, this... experience, I'll remember it even after I've died. Besides, I got a photo with you." She winked at him. 

"Oh, that's true, true." He laughed sipping his coffee. "I'm glad I can make this experience amazing. It truly makes me thrilled." 

They moved on to a topic they both loved, music. It became heated, and people turned to see what they were on about. But they were in their moment, and even after they left the pub. 

They headed to a local park nearby, they had managed to calm down and come to an agreement finally. 

There was a little private area and they went there, beneath a large tree that had overhanging branches. There was barely anyone around but it was still nice. 

She crossed her leg over, hands folded in her lap. They sat there, in silence, totally in content with each others presence and the area around them. 

Peace. 

"I'll be leaving in three hours," Cillian said after some time. 

"Mood killer," She whined, looking at him with a scowl. 

"Sorry, wanted to remind you." He had an arm behind her, and she had moved closer to his side. 

"I'm gonna miss you." She said softly, she leaned her head back on his arm. 

"We'll see each other basically every day!" He chuckled softly. 

"I know, but we won't hang out as much, like now." She reached up and picked some lint off his shirt. 

He watched the movement, "Who said we won't hang out? We'll get the time. We can make time." He took her hand, holding it to his chest. 

The whole thing was weird, it felt... intimate. His arm around her, their heads close, his eyes on her. 

This closeness with Cillian was different than anything she had experienced. With her ex, whom she broke up a year ago, was a different type of closeness. It was more sex-driven and lust, unlike with Cillian, they connected with their similar likes and dislikes, and he never seemed to judge her. 

He looked at her as if she was more than a sex object, he watched her with pure interest and intrigue. 

But maybe she was looking too much into it, they had known each other well over forty-eight hours, and she was to be here till January. Who knows, maybe he was only putting on a show since he was a very reserved man. 

She didn't know how he was truly when he wasn't in his acting spotlight, maybe he wasn't nice, maybe-

She was overthinking now to an extreme and suddenly sat up. 

"What is it?" Cillian asked, sitting forward with her, a hand on her back. 

"Nothing, just thinking." She said as she slowly sat back, she moved closer to his side and laid her head on his shoulder.

His arm was around her once again and he squeezed her gently to him, "About?" He held her hand in his lap again, his thumb running over her knuckles. 

"Ah, nothing. Something silly." She replied, her emotions were on a wild roller coaster ride. 

"You know, you can talk to me? I know we have only known each other for a bit, but, I am here for a good chat. As long as you want." He brushed a hair away from her cheek, and she looked up once more. 

A devilish thought came to her and she had the urge to satisfy it. But she may as well bring down this growing relationship into the gutter if she did so. 

And he may not want to talk to her at all, only during her times when she was on set. 

"Yeah. I know. Thank you for the offer." She smiled, it made crinkles at the corners of her eyes. 

He let out a soft gasp, "Smile again like that." He suddenly said. 

"What?" She laughed a little. 

"Smile." He said and began to tickle her. 

"Cillian!" She cried out and laughed, trying to fight him off. "What is wrong with you!" She said in between laughter. 

She managed to escape, "Bad!" She backed up when he stood, giving her a cheeky smirk. 

And then she ran. He chased after her, around the little park they went. 

She laughed and he did too, they were having the time of their life. No one bothered them. 

She had lost him around a tree and was looking behind her, but didn't see him ahead. Neither did he. 

She ran right into him and their heads clashed. Together they tumbled back onto the grass with a gasp then a grunt from Cillian. 

She was on top of him rubbing her forehead, "Owie." She complained. 

"I hope I don't get a bruise now." He said, wincing a little. 

"What about my face, I can't get a giant lump on mine." She pushed herself up a little, both arms on either side of his head. Her hair was a veil around them. 

"Be more concerned about mine!" He squeezed her sides and she yelped, jumping at the touch. 

"You'll be fine!" She argued back. She watched his eyes widen a little, and he scoffed. 

She smirked, and she wasn't going to lie to herself, she did like this. She moved and he let out a soft grunt, she was now straddling his waist. 

"Should we get up?" He asked, slowly sitting upright. His arms moved around her waist, her hands slid up his arms to rest on his shoulders. 

"I don't know, do you want to get up?" She asked, her breath hitched when she felt his fingers tips come into contact with her bare skin. 

"I'm asking you." His tone was a gentle caress for her ears. 

She gulped, holding his gaze once more, and that devilish thought returned and she found herself succumbing to it as she leaned in. 

Cillian felt his heart pound faster as he watched Gabrijela lean in, his mind was telling to be the better man and to pull away, but he honestly didn't know if that was the right choice. Move away and create this awkwardness between them or let it happen. 

But he didn't need to do anything when she was the one who jumped back. 

"Fuck, I-I don't-" She scrambled off him, still positioned between his legs. 

"It's okay. Hey." He moved to a kneeling position and took her hand. "It's alright. Don't fret." 

She looked up at him, her brows furrowed a little, "God I don't know what I was doing. I didn't mean to. It's too early, fuck, what is wrong with me?" She laughed nervously as she stood up. 

He stood up as well, "Nothing is wrong with you. Heat of the moment." He stroked her knuckle with a thumb.

The touch eased her, but the 'heat' of the moment made her tingly all over. Everywhere. 

"Yeah. Heat of the moment. I'm still sorry though. I shouldn't have done that." She shakes her head, pulling her hand back. His touch was making her feel all sort of things. 

He sighed, "Come on, let's head on home." He said to her and she followed him reluctantly. 

The silence was weird and awkward. She stood before the door of her apartment and faced him, "I guess I'll see you tomorrow?" She said. 

"Yeah, we will. It'll be a big day, so get some early shut-eye, eh?" He asked. 

His expression was soft, caring. No hint of judgement. It made her almost want to kiss him. 

"Okay. I will. I gotta prepare my stuff for tomorrow anyway, got a report to do." She hummed. 

"Alright." He kinda just stood there, expecting something else. 

She stepped down a step and wrapped her arms around his neck. She held on to him and his arms wrapped around her swiftly. 

"Thank you for the last three days. I can't wait to work with you further," She murmured and pulled back enough to admire his finely chiselled face. 

"Yeah, neither can I. And the rest of the crew, of course." He squeezed her sides again. 

Heat bloomed within her, "See you tomorrow, Cillian. Drive safe." She leaned in and pressed a kiss to his cheek. 

He pulled her close so their bodies were flushed. She could feel every hard part of him, the strength of his body. 

She let out a soft moan and blushed as they pulled back, "You be safe too. Ring me if anything happens alright? Even if you need a chat. It'll be a long train ride." He said, cupping her cheek with a hand. 

She could see the nerves behind those lovely big eyes, the moment had rattled him. And she wasn't sure if it was good or bad. 

She nodded and stepped back, "Bye." She smiled and went to the door, punching in her pin and pushed open the door. She looked at him once more before she turned away and closed the door behind her. 

When she came to her apartment and peeked out the balcony, he wasn't there. His car was gone. 

She sighed and went back inside, the last hour was wild and she never felt so damn hungry for more. 

More of him. 

Her heart ached, her body ached in places where she wasn't satisfied in a long while. 

God, she thought, she was here on an internship. To fucking learn. Not to fuck the materials. 

She shook her head and cursed herself when she thought about the scenes of him in the show. The intimate ones. 

Another moan escaped her. "Fucking horny piece of shit," She muttered to herself and fished out what would ease her body. 

Later that night... 

She had received a call from Allison. The news was, she was going to be picked up around five in the morning. 

She chatted with the woman about what to expect, how long she was going to be on set or if there was anything else she was supposed to do. 

Gabrijela learned that she was going to work with, bing bing! Cillian most of the time, and the other men who were to be the Shelby men. 

Great, she thought, she would have to deal with the man who was wedging himself into her heart and soul. 

But, she had to put it aside. This was for her studies, and she needed to focus. And to shower. And eat. And then sleep. 

But she was also excited that she wasn't just going to work on the set, she was going to help Allison design some clothing for some play that was set to practice early next year. 

More to learn, the hungrier she got. 

She did as Cillian told, eat, shower, talked to her dad for a bit before she hit the hay. 

Though, her dreams were muddled with Cillian, his gaze, his touches, his soft lips that brought about gooseflesh all over her. 

And the wicked sounds he pulled from her. 

[flannelpunkcalum]

okay listen i know this is just a pipe dream but december kind of blows for everyone and I just want a kind and loving boy to help me through this bullshit and yeah, i am referring to Calum Hood. Maybe it’s your first winter with Calum and you’re glad he’s got his break and all but you’re just swamped and you’re having so much trouble making time to see him through all this work and you have so much fucking laundry to do and you aren’t sleeping so well and he calls you every day just so you can hear his voice but it’s like he’s overseas again, given how much you’ve seen him 

and you’re right in the middle of it when he texts you one afternoon “hey, is it cool if i swing by your place to pick up some stuff?” and you assume it’s because you’ve stolen so many of his sweaters and shirts so you let him know you’re not gonna be home until late but he can let himself in, he’s got a spare key. he said earlier that he had plans that night but you think it’ll still be nice to come home and feel the change in the air and know that he was around for a while and god, this is really sad but you don’t have much time to dwell on it as you get back to work

anyway as you get home you’re mentally trying to figure out what you’ve got in your fridge so you can eat before you pass out but you’re planning on cereal when you let yourself in but you can smell something delicious when you come in and you’re really confused for a second until Calum’s head pops around the corner with a cute little grin all “hi, honey, welcome home” and you don’t even pause before you’re pressing into his arms. he gives you a kiss on the head and another on the lips when you look up to him. “rough day?” 

you nod, but you’re still a little tired and you’re not sure why he’s here, exactly. “thought you had plans?” you ask as he leads you into the kitchen where, yeah, dinner’s waiting for you and as he’s starting to answer you grab him by the back of the neck and give him a real kiss, the first you’ve shared in day. 

“I wanted to surprise you.” He says, looking sheepish. “If that’s okay- no, baby, you need to eat, i can hear your stomach” he adds when you go to kiss him again. “kiss me all you want after” 

and you’re not about to cry, you’re not, but this is the sweetest fucking thing he could have done for you, especially halfway through the meal when he drops his fork in a panic because he forgot to move the laundry into the dryer and he’s gotta do that now so it has a chance to dry before you head to bed and like - what a fucking man, you know? Isn’t that what it means to be a true partner? That you take care of each other in all the every day unglamorous ways? You walked Duke and threw the gross veggies he forgot on his counter out when he left on tour, and now he’s reciprocating and being the man you need in this nightmare of a month - like there’s nothing you can do to repay these things but you know he wouldn’t ever ask, and that’s gotta be love. 

[punkpoemprose]

December 1st- Ink

Universe: Modern AU, Tattoo Artist! Kristoff Rating: M (Mature for non-descriptive sexual content & innuendo and Anna said fuck once) Length: Words 4184

You can blame a few people for this one. @frozenmusings for that artwork of Viking! Kristoff with the sleeve tat that I couldn’t find when I was writing but is absolutely gorgeous. And @karis-the-fangirl and @upthenorthmountain for reminding me how badly I wanted a tattoo artist AU when they posted about “tit for tat” which I still desperately want you to write.

Anyway, sorry for the lateness! Here we go!

This wasn’t his first rodeo. It wasn’t even his tenth. He’d heard every argument in the books and his counter argument was the same every single time, no matter how people yelled or how many eyelashes were batted at him.

“You’re not making this decision with a clear head, so I’m sorry. The answer is no.”

She looked like she was about to cry and he steeled himself. Kristoff Bjorgman had never been the type of man to be shaken from his convictions by a few tears. He had been called ‘no-nonsense’, ‘determined’ and even occasionally ‘obstinate’, but he’d never been afraid to live up to everyone.

It didn’t mean he was heartless.

He sighed and reached for the box of tissues on his desk, ready to hand them over in a moment’s notice. The distraught young woman before him, a pretty little redhead with freckles and blue eyes full of emotion, had come into his shop for a walk-in consultation but she’d pushed him to take it from a consultation to an appointment within the first ten minutes.

It was hardly unheard of. He’d been willing to work on a walk in several times in the past, but the last thing he wanted to do was put ink to skin on an emotional tattoo virgin. He knew implicitly that it was a horrible plan because impulse tats always came with regrets. He wasn’t going to tattoo her for the same reasons he wouldn’t tattoo someone drunk or high and he’d explain it to her before or after she cried it out.

“Look,” he said, already offering her a tissue with a sad smile, “It’s nothing personal. There’s about six shops on this side of town that would do this for you, no questions asked, but you walked into mine and I only tattoo people when I think they’re in the right headspace. You’ve never had a tattoo before and you look like you’re about to breakdown. So if you want you can leave and find someone else, or I can sketch something for you and you can come back in a week or so and tell me then if you still want it. Fair?”

She huffed out a sigh that sounded a little strangled to him, like she was choking down a sob, but she didn’t take a tissue from him and folded her hands in her lap calmly. She was staring through him as she weighed her options and he wondered if she was taking the time to truly decide or whether she was just trying to calm herself down.

“That’s fair. I knew I should have just dyed my hair or something… but I…” she stopped for a moment and closed her eyes. Whatever she had to say it was easier for her to not look at him when she did. “I’ve wanted one for a while and he never let…”

Her eyes opened again and she looked down at her own folded hands. Suddenly despite the open air style of his studio, their interaction felt intimate. He blamed it on the lack of other people in the shop. Even his dog Sven who usually greeted the customers at the door was off on some other canine errand and Kristoff wasn’t sure whether he wanted him to return or not to break the tension.

“Bad break up?”

He didn’t know why he was asking. It was private information. He didn’t need to know why she was distraught, he just needed to make sure she knew why he wouldn’t ink her while she was in such a state.

Despite the occupational hazard of small talk that came with his job, kind of like a bartender or hairdresser, Kristoff had never been the type to initiate conversation. He figured he was generally well liked, given his number of return customers, but he had a feeling it had more to do with his work and clean shop than it did his conversational skills. He’d always been content to listen than to pry or talk about any concern of his own.

But this girl, Anna, seemed like she was ready to explode and maybe he was beginning to soften a bit for a pretty face. No one was around to see it, so he decided that he was allowed.

She looked at him with a bit of shock on her face, but it quickly disappeared, and she nodded.

“I won’t bore you with the details,” she said, her voice cracking in a way that he could feel in his chest, “But this is the first time in a long time that I’ve been able to make a decision for myself… and I’m sorry… I should have thought it through before I came here to bother you, it’s just. God. I wanted to belong to myself again. Does that make sense? He hated women with tattoos and I’d always liked them, so it seemed like a good way to say ‘good riddance’.”

He nodded. It wasn’t the first time he’d heard something like this from someone just coming out of a relationship. Hell, he’d almost done it himself when he’d been a dumb seventeen year old and he’d found out his first and last girlfriend had been kissing every guy in the grade. He was glad he didn’t of course, but Anna seemed to have a bit more conviction and twice as good of a reason.

“It makes sense. But if it makes sense to you now it’ll make sense to you in a week, yeah? I don’t do this very often, but uh, well if you want after I draw it up for you I can transfer it on you and Sharpie it on so you can see what it’d be like for the week give or take. It won’t look as great, but it might help with… you know, uh what you’re feeling.”

He wondered if he was blushing. He hadn’t blushed in a long time, after all he’d tattooed enough naked women to be over getting embarrassed for the rest of his life, but there was something about approaching her feelings, a stranger, that made him feel flushed. There was a part of his head that told him it was justified by something between the way he desperately wanted to make her smile and the way he wanted to go drop her ex-boyfriend into the nearest body of water with a pair of cement shoes.

She smiled at that and he practically melted into his chair. She was still teary eyed and a bit exhausted looking, but there was a little light in her eyes that told him that it may have been the kindest thing someone had done for her in a very long time. It made him want to be even nicer.

“So a sunflower right?”

“Please!”

                                                               ***

Anna laid awake in her bed, tracing the faux tattoo on her bare shoulder with one finger as she held her book open with the other hand. She couldn’t keep her mind on reading it. She was too excited for her appointment first thing in the morning where it would be made permanent.

She closed her eyes and remembered how kind Kristoff had been when she stumbled into his tattoo parlor a complete wreck. He hadn’t needed to go out of his way to draw the line art onto her, but he had. He’d explained it off as if it were just something to do on a slow day, but she for all her past trouble understanding intentions, had seen right through it. He was a good man and he had been sweeter to her than anyone had been in a very long time.

She hoped that she was going to be able to keep it together when she arrived in the morning.

Setting the book down and laying back into the bed she realized how most of her excitement wasn’t even about the tattoo, though she was thrilled to be finally getting it and her week-long trial period had left her without any doubts, a major part of the excitement was owing to the fact that she was going to see him and his hands were going to be on her again. She could still feel the ghost of his calloused finger pads on her freckled shoulder. He’d been gentle in his machinations, his hand resting and shifting gently across her skin as he moved the marker, fingers patting powder onto the ink to keep it from smearing as he worked, and she’d almost sworn that once or twice his fingers swiped at her skin wholly unnecessarily. She was likely wrong, her imagination running wild that he’d found her something beyond a weepy mess, and yet she’d sworn he’d been blushing at least a little bit when he helped her slip her shirt back over her shoulder. Of course he was a gentleman, maybe he blushed every time he laid his hands on a lady for his work.

She smiled to herself and tried her best to fall asleep.

 Somehow I seriously doubt it.

                                                              ***

“Fuck!”

Kristoff chuckled. He couldn’t help himself.

“Anna, I just touched your shoulder, I haven’t even set up the gun yet.”

She felt herself going red and closed her eyes, as if her blocking out her own vision of the space around her could hide how embarrassing she was being. She had been so excited the night before, and now she was a mess. She’d never been very good at pain and despite Kristoff’s repeated promise that the first few minutes were the worst and that the pain dulls fast, it was all she could do to keep herself from shaking from her nerves alone.

“I know! I know! I’m sorry! I don’t mean to be so nervous! I’m sorry!”

He shook his head. Her eyes were closed tight. It was nothing new to him, scared first time clients were just a part of the business. What wasn’t run of the mill was the way he wanted to reach out and tuck a few stray hairs behind her ear and maybe cup her jaw and maybe tell her how he’d be happy to just spend the rest of the day in her presence with or without tattooing her despite the fact that he also very much wanted to mark her in a way he’d never wanted to do any other client in his six year career.

He settled on the safest bet and tried to erase the others from his mind.

“Don’t be sorry. You’re my only appointment today, so we don’t have to start until you’re feeling good about it. And if you want to back out, that’s fine too.”

“No. I want to do this.” She opened her eyes to see that he was still sitting to her side. His eyes were on her and she could see that there was no judgement there. “Plus you said it won’t even be that bad.”

He shook his head, “I don’t want to make it sound like a walk in the park or anything, but yeah most people agree the shoulder is the least painful.”

“What do you think though?”

He smiled that she wanted to know what he thought specifically. He wasn’t one of the artists that was head to toe ink, but he’d had a few pieces done since he’d started in the field at eighteen. He hadn’t ever had one on his shoulder specifically, but the sleeve on his right arm had started on his shoulder and had worked down his arm. He was certain that despite the intricacy of the design that it had been far less painful than the tattoo on his chest.

He shrugged off his flannel and watched Anna’s eyes go wide as she caught sight of his arm. He tried his best not to react as he tugged up the sleeve on the t-shirt beneath, so she could see his shoulder. It was hardly impressive compared to some of the sleeves he’d seen on others, or even compared to some he’d done himself, but he liked it well enough and judging by Anna’s reaction it seemed that she found it impressive.

It was a piece of Norse knotwork, a recreation of a wood carving in the wall of a 12th-century stave church that he longed to visit in person. The curves moved up his arm, lightly shaded to let the knotwork stand out against his skin, curves of lines following the contours of his arm that moved like living things along with him.

“Honestly it was my third tattoo, so I had stuff to compare it to, but I didn’t think it was that bad. I mean it’s going to be painful, but I promise it won’t be too much for you to handle and we can take all the breaks you want or need.”

Kristoff watched like it was in slow motion as she reached out to touch his arm gently. Her finger followed the path of one of the knots from his elbow up to his shoulder and he could scarcely breathe. She was so focused on what she was doing, as if it were wholly natural for her to touch him and he was enjoying it.

“I was a foster kid,” he said, the words tumbling from his lips without meaning to. He wasn’t the sharing sort. “When I was sixteen a family offered to adopt me but I didn’t want to be a burden and they kept me anyway. When I turned eighteen they still wanted me, they supported me and I wouldn’t be here without them. When I turned twenty they helped me figure out where I came from, one of those DNA tests and when I realized I was Norwegian… I sort of ran with it and honored it the only way I knew how.”

Anna blinked then pulled her hand away as if burned. She opened her mouth to apologize, but she saw his smile and stopped herself. He was already telling her there was nothing to apologize for.

“It suits you,” she said quietly, trying to subdue her blush as she chided herself about personal space as if she were a child again. It wasn’t his fault that she was attracted to him, that she’d forgotten completely how to act around other people.

“Thank you,” he said. And he meant it.

He pulled his flannel back on and cleared his throat. He meant it and that meant he had to remember where he was, what he was doing. Anna was sweet and beautiful and above all else she was his client. He needed to shake all the thoughts from his mind about how much he would enjoy letting her trace all his tattoos as he traced all her curves with his mouth.

“So how are you feeling about all of this now?”

She glanced around the room for a moment. Despite the fact that there was no one else in the shop and the fact that she didn’t need to strip down beyond her tank top to get her tattoo he’d brought her to a private room. She noticed it now, the bits and baubles that made it his more than the rest of his shop. There were flannels on a hook by the door that all looked well worn. A few clearly had been sewn back up on the elbows with patches. The flash on the wall was all hand drawn Thor’s hammers, Odin’s eyes, and more knotwork like what was present on his arm. In the corner of the room was a large dog bed for Sven, his wolfhound mix that was currently holding down the fort outside the closed door.

“Suddenly very good.”

“Okay,” he said, giving her a smile as he started off prepping her arm by removing the last of the sharpie on her arm, “If you start to feel not very good tell me, okay? You’ve got a little time before we start.”

She smiled back, “I, um… I don’t think that’s going to be an issue. I’m feeling a bit better now.”

“Good, I’m going to talk you through what I’m doing so I don’t scare you again, okay?”

Anna lost herself in the process, relaxing back onto the chair as he wiped away the temporary ink, shaved away the fine hair on her shoulder, and applied the pattern to her skin with transfer paper. His voice, walking her through the steps was soothing, though she barely paid attention to his words as she relaxed herself completely.

She had decided that she was in excellent hands, and the gentle touches of his hands on her made her wish she were with him for something more than business. She wished that he’d slip the gloves from his hands and change course for someplace a little more exciting than her shoulder. She bit her lip at the thought and was then pulled from her reverie by his voice calling her name.

“Anna? Are you ready?”

The calm evaporated, and she was suddenly all to aware of the fact that she was just moments away from getting her first tattoo.

“As I’ll ever be, I’m afraid.”

Kristoff could see her anxiety returning and he could understand it. It’d been more than six years since his first and he could still remember nearly wanting to vomit the whole time. He couldn’t really relate any more, but he felt a lot of empathy for her.

“Okay, keep your arm still alright? If it gets to be too much or you need a break or feel like you’re going to pass out or you need a drink or anything at all, you tell me, okay? I’m going to take care of you.”

He really wanted to take care of her.

“I’m getting a sunflower because before my parents passed away, we had a family camp up in the mountains and there were fields of sunflowers on the drive up.”

He hadn’t asked, but he appreciated her telling him anyway. She hadn’t asked about his and she’d appreciated him telling her anyway. There was a weight hanging in the air between them, something that was about their sharing and about something more. She could almost feel the pressure of it and then it dissipated pleasantly when she heard his voice.

“I’m honored you picked me to do it.”

“I’m honored you agreed.”

And with that she nodded, and she felt like her sister’s cat Olaf had decided to go to town on her shoulder.

“Ah!”

He didn’t mean to hush her gently when it came out of his mouth and he didn’t mean to quietly apologize to her either.

“Sorry Anna, I know it hurts, it’ll be alright in a moment, trust me.”

She clenched her jaw and closed her eyes. She was fairly certain it didn’t even hurt all that much and that it was more the foreignness of the situation that made it all seem worse. She focused on breathing through her nose and fought back against the little tears in the corner of her eyes.

“Hey, hey, don’t tense up. It’s okay, you’re doing great! Relax a bit and it’ll get better okay?”

“Easy for you to say.”

He couldn’t help but smile at that, “I know, do you want me to stop?”

“No, no, I think I’ll get used to it in a minute or two.”

He focused on keeping his hand steady after that, following the curves of the pattern as he created petals of ink on her skin. He wiped away gently at the blood and ink that appeared on her shoulder with the pinpricks the machine’s needles made in her skin. She was holding perfectly still, and he found he was able to work along at a nice pace as he focused on inking her skin.

Anna was somewhat surprised when she relaxed again and thought for a moment how amazing it was that what was once painful was now entirely bearable. Shortly after this realization came, she found the courage to glance in her periphery at what he was doing and how far along they were.

He was sexy when he was focused. She’d already decided it within a moment of laying eyes on him as he focused on tattooing her. If it weren’t for the fact that she had the state of mind not to, she would tell him so. She wondered if anyone had ever told him before.

That was when she felt a change again, but it wasn’t for the worse.

“Ah! Kristoff!”

She heard the gun stop before she realized what had happened, or even registered the sounds she’d made. A throaty moan, and then a needy call of his name followed by silence.

She could only imagine the shade of crimson she was as he looked at her nervously, likely trying to figure out what he had done to hurt her when she was the opposite of hurt beyond the ache in her arm.

“Are you alright?”

Anna had no idea how to respond to that. She felt hot and exhausted and embarrassed and she hadn’t thought that she could have made a bigger fool of herself, but somehow, she’d managed.

It clicked when he saw how she looked away from him suddenly, her body going from lax to stiff faster than he could say “that’s the first orgasm I’ve ever given a woman”, which he of course had the good sense not to say.

“Oh.”

“I should not be allowed in public. I’m a menace, oh my God. I’m so sorry!”

He, after spending half the session thinking less than gentlemanly thoughts about what he would do with her if she ever wanted to see him for non-tattoo purposes, immediately felt guilty.

“Why are you sorry? I mean… I know what just... but why would you be…?”

She was mortified. She couldn’t even answer him as she was trying to make mental plans as to how she was going to go the rest of her life with a half a sunflower on her shoulder. She had already paid him, she could bolt now and live with it. She didn’t think she could ever have anyone else tattoo her ever again.

“Anna, it happens. I mean… never to me, or someone I’ve been tattooing, but I’ve heard it happens. Usually with thigh and hip tattoos, but it happens, and you don’t need to be embarrassed.”

“Yes I do!” she replied before she could think any better of it, “I do because I’m recently single and there’s supposed to be a ‘mourning period’ you know? And you’ve been so nice to me and I’ve been zoning out thinking about what else you could do with your hands and I…”

She trailed off and he blinked.

“You’ve been thinking about…”

“I have to leave here and never come back, don’t I?” she said, already judging how fast she could get out the door.

“Well if you do I have to as well because I’ve been thinking about the same sort of thing.”

“Wait… what?”

Kristoff sighed and bemoaned his lack of experience with women beyond a few bad dates. There was no way that this was a normal way to tell her that he was interested in her, but normal fell by the wayside a while ago for them.

“Look I think you’re a very attractive woman and since you walked into my shop last week you’ve been on my mind and I’ll admit to thinking some things about you that I probably shouldn’t think about a client. I don’t want that to freak you out though and I know we’re here alone and you… well just know I’m not upset and I’m not going to act on anything because until I get this tattoo done there’s a power imbalance here and I’m not that kind of guy.”

Anna held her breath for a moment. She thought about pinching herself until the ache in her arm told her she certainly wasn’t dreaming.

“What about after?”

“After what?”

He was confused and embarrassed and already thinking about the other places in town he would trust enough to finish her tattoo for her given the fact that she’d probably not want him to finish it.

“After you finish my tattoo… I mean I understand the concept of not fraternizing with your customers, but after you’re done?”

He couldn’t believe what she was saying and he had to take a moment to connect her words to meaning in his mind.

“Then,” he said finally coming to his senses to blot away the excess ink on her arm gently, “I suppose if you… if we… I uh, would want to do things right. Maybe after I finish your tattoo I’ll take you out to dinner?”

“Maybe after you finish, I’ll kiss you and tell you dinner sounds great?”

“Then maybe I should get to it? If you’re feeling ready?”

Anna nodded, wondering if ‘doing things right’ meant he’d do the things she’d been imagining to her after dinner. She wanted to see what he could do with his hands when he was trying to make her feel something. While he’d blamed it on the tattoo gun she was pretty certain her few moments of bliss had been owing more to his proximity and her keen imagination. She wondered what it might be like not to imagine.

“Absolutely.”