#if that makes me a bad sales person I don’t care it’ll come back to me in ten folds for sales

[kiss-me-with-the-stars]

I think it’s time for me to get a new job

[mrsshabana]

°•Gyusimp x Mrs. Shabana Collab•° Part 2

♥AN: Read Part 1 here

Thank you to @gyusimp for asking me to do this collab with her. It was so much fun and I hope we can do more together in the future!

♥CW: Bullying, violence, language

♥WC: 4,296

The next day in class, you do everything in your power to ignore Tengen. He had pissed you off so much the other night, you don’t want to see his face ever again. But unfortunately you don’t have a choice since he’s in your homeroom class.

At least you get to sit next to Gyutaro though. And he was starting to warm up to you too. He was starting to learn that you were a really cool person to be around, one of the very few people that he wouldn’t mind hanging out with outside of class. Gyutaro thinks you are very pretty, but pretty people usually treat him with extra cruelty. But you were different. Gyutaro thought that people like you didn’t exist, but you are quickly proving him wrong.

Once class ends, you begin packing your stuff up. But there’s something that you really want to ask Gyutaro.

“Hey, Gyutaro?”

“What’s up?” he says as he slings his backpack over his shoulder.

“Do you maybe want to hang out again? They’re having a buy one get one free sale on band t-shirts at the mall! I thought that maybe you’d want to come with me?” You’re so afraid that he’s going to reject your offer. You’ll be so embarrassed if he does…

But to your surprise, Gyutaro smiles, showing off his slightly crooked teeth, “Sure! That sounds fun.”

“R-really?! Um yeah it’ll be really fun. Maybe we could meet in the courtyard tomorrow at 4:00?” you try to mask your excitement and play it cool.

“Alright. See you then,” Gyutaro says before he leaves the room.

You’re so excited that he agreed, that you don’t realize that Tengen had been eavesdropping on your conversation this entire time. The whole thing pisses him off, and he’s even more pissed off that he’s pissed off! He shouldn’t give a fuck about what Gyutaro does so why the hell does it get under his skin so much? You’re a cute girl but he could have any other cute girl in this school so why is he so hung up on you? It just makes no sense why you’d choose an ugly nobody like Gyutaro over him…

“Hey…” Tengen stops himself from using one of those nicknames that you hate so much, as he approaches you.

“What do you want? I told you I didn't want to talk to you anymore,” you snap, standing up to leave the room.

“I know I know. I just wanted to apologize for the other day. I shouldn’t have said those things to you, and I’m really sorry,” his fake sincerity convinces you, but it’s not enough to make you want to be anything more than classmates.

“Well, thank you for the apology. But I’ve got places to be,” you don’t care if you sound rude, you walk past him anyways. It’s nice that he apologized, but there’s really no coming back after what he said to you the other night. You just hope that now things can be normal and you can forget about that mess.

~

Gyutaro is so excited to hang out with you. He barely got any sleep because his mind has been consumed by thoughts of you. It’s almost 4:00 so Gyutaro is on his way to meet you at the courtyard when he hears something coming from a dark corridor.

It sounds like a woman whimpering in pain. The sound seems to be coming from a utility closet.

Gyutaro slowly approaches the door where the sound is coming from, he knocks twice and whispers, “Hello? Is someone in there?”

“P-please… help me…” a weak sounding voice pleads from behind the door.

Gyutaro is a sucker for protecting girls. He always imagines if it was his sister, he’d want someone to help her if he wasn’t there. So he opens the door.

“Are you ok? Do you need any help?”

~

It’s 4:30 and Gyutaro is nowhere to be seen, so you shoot him a text. Still no reply after 30 minutes… Did he stand you up? You never would have thought that Gyutaro would do something like that, he doesn’t seem like that kind of guy. You can’t shake the feeling in your gut that something bad must’ve happened to him. But it’s getting late and it’s obvious that he’s not coming, so you decide to go back home. Surely when you see him in class tomorrow he will tell you that something came up and you can reschedule for another day.

But Gyutaro doesn’t show up to class. And he never responds to your texts.

Ok, now you are panicking. Gyutaro can be rude sometimes but it’s not in his nature to go this far. He would never skip class just to avoid you, something bad must have happened to him. He’s not answering his texts so the only thing you can think of is to find his little sister. You ask around campus until someone tells you where you can find her. So after class you wait for her outside of her last class. Her beautiful white hair makes her hard to miss, so you know immediately which student is her.

“Excuse me, are you Gyutaro’s sister?” you politely tap her shoulder to get her attention.

“Huh?” when she turns to meet your gaze, her facial expression quickly changes. She immediately pushes you against the wall, grabbing the collar of your shirt, “I should kick your ass for what you did, you fucking bitch!” She pulls her hand back.

But before she can bitch slap you, you hold your hands in front of your face and yelp, “W-wait! I-I don’t know what you’re talking about! I’m just w-worried about your brother!”

“Wait, you aren’t one of Tengen’s whores?”

“What?! No!! I hate that guy!” you yell in disbelief, why the hell would she think that you’re with Tengen?

“Oh, sorry about that,” she releases you from her grasp, “Then, what do you want my brother for?”

“We’re classmates. He was supposed to meet me in the courtyard yesterday, but he never came. I’m worried about him, is he ok?”

Ume winces as if she’s thinking about something that makes her feel pain, “I should probably just go…”

“Wait! Did something happen to him? And why did you think I was associated with Tengen?” you grab her arm and plead.

“Brother’s fine! Just don’t worry about it, it’s none of your business anyways!” She snatches her arm away from you and walks away quickly.

Whatever happened to Gyutaro, it seems like she really doesn’t want to talk about it. And why would she assume that you have anything to do with Tengen? You just can’t wrap your head around it. Why would Gyutaro’s sister want to beat up Tengen’s girlfriends? Whatever is going on though, you just hope that Gyutaro is ok. His sister said he was fine so you don’t have any other choice than to believe her.

~

To your delight, Gyutaro is in class when you walk in the next morning. He’s wearing a hoodie and has his head laying on the desk, concealed by his arms.

He may be sleeping but you don’t care, you’re too excited to see that he’s alright.

“Gyutaro! Good morning!” you squeal in excitement as you nudge his shoulder.

“Mornin,” he groans. Not bothering to lift his head.

“Is everything alright?” He's acting weird and it’s making you worried.

“Everything’s fine, don’t worry about it, ok?” his voice cracks, and he just hopes that you’ll leave him alone.

Which you do. The tone of his voice tells you enough, it’s obvious that he’s not in the mood to talk to you right now. It hurts your feelings a bit, but you hope that after class he’ll open up to you.

Throughout the entire lesson, Gyutaro never lifts his head from the desk. And even once class ends he doesn’t move.

“You awake Gyutaro? Class just ended,” you nudge his shoulder again.

“J-just go without me!” he snaps. At this point, you two are the only ones left in the classroom.

“What’s been going on with you lately? You know you can tell me anything, if something’s wrong I want to help you Gyutaro…” you tenderly rub his back as he seems upset. 

“Why the fuck do you care so much anyways?!” he yells at you as he finally raises his head from the desk. The venom in his voice makes tears threaten to fall from your eyes. But you start to understand when you see what he has been hiding from you.

He has a black eye. It’s swollen and dark, but it doesn’t look fresh. Maybe a couple days old.

You gasp and reach out to him, “Wh-what happened?”

With a scowl, Gyutaro turns away from you and stands up to leave, “It’s none of your goddamn business.”

“Wait! Why are you being such an asshole?! Can’t you see that I care about you! I’ve been worried sick about you these past few days,” you rush up to him and grab his hand, “You don’t need to hide anything from me. Don’t you understand that I’ll like you anyways?”

Gyutaro’s scowl softens and his lip quivers. No one’s ever said something so genuinely sweet to him before. He looks down at his feet, “I’m fine, just don’t worry about it…”

“No, you’re not fine,” you lunge forward and wrap your arms around Gyutaro. He immediately returns the embrace and accepts your affection. It feels so good in your arms, he didn’t know how badly he needed a hug.

“I can tell that you aren’t ok,” you whimper, pulling him closer and patting his back as he lets down his walls. He sniffles as his tears fall onto your shoulder.

“I’m s-sorry, I just don’t want you to think I’m lame…” he mumbles.

“I could never think you’re lame. You’re the coolest guy I’ve met at this school! I know we haven’t hung out that much, but everytime I’m around you I never want it to end.”

“Thanks, that means a lot to me,” he pulls away from the hug and wipes away his tears. Wincing when he rubs his swollen eye, it still hurts a lot.

“So are you gonna tell me what’s going on?”

“Ok, but let’s go somewhere more private first,” Gyutaro grabs your hand and the two of you walk out of the classroom.

It’s raining out so the courtyard is completely empty. Gyutaro doesn’t want to risk anyone overhearing your conversation so he runs with you through the rain, to a gazebo in the middle of the courtyard.

“Sorry to drag you through the rain,” he rasps, pulling his hoodie down and shaking off the water droplets.

“It’s ok, it’s kind of cozy under here,” you smile sweetly at him, “Now, please tell me what’s going on.”

“First you have to promise you won’t tell anyone. This stays between us,” he holds out his pinky finger.

“I promise,” you lock pinkies with him.

Gyutaro sighs, “It happened that day we were supposed to go to the mall together…”

Gyutaro is so embarrassed to open up to you about this because it makes him feel like he’s weak. But he trusts you. No one has been so kind to him, especially without asking for something in return. So it’s the least that he could do for being so rude to you lately.

It turns out, that Gyutaro hadn’t stood you up afterall. He was on his way to meet up with you when he heard a woman calling out for help from a utility closet. When he opened the door he saw a girl that had blue eyes and black hair, similar to him. She didn’t look hurt but she was sitting on the floor. When he knelt down to ask her if she was ok, the door locked behind him and two other girls came out from behind some storage shelves.

He then recognized them. They were the three girls that Tengen is always hanging around with. Tengen has been bullying Gyutaro ever since he came to this school, but the girls never got involved. So he was more than confused when they approached him.

The girl with the blond highlights pushed Gyutaro to the floor while the one with the blue eyes held him down. 

The girl with the ponytail said, “Damn you’re uglier than I thought. Maybe we can fix his face if we rearrange a few things. What do you think?”

“I think that’d be a great idea!” says the blue eyed girl.

To his horror, the blond girl straddles him and grabs his cheeks, turning his face from side to side and taking a good look at his features. “He’s got all these weird spots on him, not sure if it’ll help but it’d be cruel to not at least try.” She smirks and punches him in the face. To Gyutaro’s dismay, this girl was very strong. He’s strong enough to fight back, but Tengen knows that Gyutaro wouldn’t hit a girl. And that’s exactly why he sent his girls to do his dirty work.

After that, the girls start to kick his stomach and rib cage, “If we can’t fix his face then maybe we can fix his body.”

It’s no fun for them when Gyutaro doesn't fight back, so they don’t spend too long beating him. But when they’re done the blue eyed girl smiles at him and cheerfully says, “Maybe Y/N will like you even more now that we’ve fixed you. You’re welcome, Gyutaro!”

The girls wave before they exit the room, leaving Gyutaro on the floor. His shirt stained from the blood dripping down his nose. He lays there for at least an hour before the pain dissipates enough for him to be able to move.

“What?! Are you fucking serious? We have to tell a professor about this!!” you gasp, wrapping your arms around him again. After hearing about what happened, you want to hold him in your arms for eternity. Gyutaro is a sweet guy, he didn’t deserve that at all.

“No! Y-you promised that it’d stay between us!” he frowns.

“But, we can’t let them get away with this! I won’t allow someone to treat you like that!”

“Well you pinky promised! So you can’t! Plus I’ll be the laughing stock of the school if people find out that I got beat up by some girls…” he clenches your shirt and lays his head on your shoulder.

You sigh, “I can’t believe what a coward Tengen is. Sending his whores to bully you because he’s too afraid to do it himself. What does that say about him?! Unlike him, you actually have some respect for women. He must have known that you wouldn’t have fought back if he sent them in his place…” you pat his head and try to soothe him. When he calms down a bit you continue, “But why didn’t you fight back? I know you’re a gentleman but those bitches deserve to get the shit beat out of them.”

Gyutaro chuckles, “I know… I should have tried to defend myself but no one would have taken my side if I did. If I would’ve fought back it’d be the word of three girls against me. Who do you think people would believe?”

He’s right. Unfortunately people would most likely believe the three girls over Gyutaro. And you have a feeling that Tengen thought about this beforehand. Either way it’d be a win-win for him. Because if Gyutaro did fight back, the girls could make up any story they wanted and Gyutaro would get suspended. They probably would tell everyone that he tried to assault them and they were just defending themselves.

You groan in frustration, “You’re right. It’s probably a good thing that you didn’t fight back because I’m sure they had a story already made up to frame you.”

“Yeah, and Tengen was probably worried that I’d fuck up his ‘perfect’ face like I did last time, hehe.”

“You’ve fought with Tengen before?”

Gyutaro nods with a smirk, “Yeah. He tried to fight me himself once and I gave him a black eye. He was so distraught that I blemished his good looks that he ran away from the fight. Ever since then it’s just been verbal stuff… sometimes rumors too, but I don’t care what anyone thinks of me so it never bothered me that much.”

You scoff, “What a fucking coward! He’s too afraid that you’ll ruin his face so he sends his girlfriends after you.”

Gyutaro starts to chuckle, “Yeah it is pretty funny how cowardly he is. For what a hoe he is, he has no balls.”

The two of you laugh and joke about Tengen’s lack of testicles for the next ten minutes, until the bell rings, signifying that the lunch break is about to end.

“We should get to class. But this isn’t over, we won’t let them get away with this!” You exclaim.

“Thanks Y/N, I appreciate it.” Gyutaro gives you one last hug before you both head off to class.

~

For the rest of the day, you can’t stop thinking about everything that Gyutaro had told you about. It claws under your skin, making you seethe with rage. You spend the entire day thinking about how you could get back at Tengen for what he did. But you don’t want to stoop to his level. Starting rumors about him would be fun, but it’d only make you a bully too. So, while you spend the rest of the week contemplating your revenge strategy, you make sure not to leave Gyutaro’s side.

The thought of someone picking on him makes your blood boil, and you know that Tengen will leave him alone if you stay near him at all times. Of course that’s not the only reason you’re hanging out with him, you just love being around Gyutaro. He always knows how to make you laugh. And the two of you never ended up going to the mall together. Gyutaro hasn’t forgotten this, he’s actually been thinking about it non-stop. How badly he wants to hang out with you again outside of class… Which is why he brings it up, asking if you want to go to the mall together like you had originally planned. And of course you accept! Waiting for him at 4pm in the courtyard, just like last time.

But of course things can’t go smoothly, you should have learned your lesson from last time. This time you are approached directly by Tengen. He had no idea you were planning on meeting up with Gyutaro though, he just happened to see you by yourself and couldn’t refuse this golden opportunity.

“Hey doll, what’re you doing out here all alone?” Tengen says in his usual overly confident tone. Leaning a bit too close to you in the process.

Not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing your face, you respond without even looking up from your phone, “I’m waiting for Gyutaro.” You try your best not to bring up the whole incident that happened with Tengen’s girlfriends, as you promised Gyutaro you wouldn’t bring it up to anyone.

“Why are you still hanging out with him?” Tengen rolls his eyes and groans, “You’ve seen that black eye he has right? Makes him look pretty pathetic, don’t you think?”

That’s it. You can’t take this anymore. 

Whipping your head up, staring Tengen dead in the eyes as you push him away from you. “Yeah, you’d know a thing or two about that wouldn’t you? Since you sent your bitches after him! God, you’re the biggest waste of oxygen I’ve ever seen in my entire life, what the fuck is wrong with you? Why can’t you just leave Gyutaro alone? Are you jealous of him or something?”

Tengen frowns, your comment seems to have struck a nerve with him. “Jealous of that loser? No way,” he smirks and grabs your wrists, pulling you close to his chest, “I don’t get why you’re so insistent on hanging around that guy. I’m starting to think that maybe you’re just doing it to play hard to get. You don’t actually like him, do you? You’ve just been trying to get my attention.”

“No that’s not it at all!” you yelp as his grip tightens, “Let go of me!”

No matter how much you struggle, you can’t get away from him. Everything happens so fast, suddenly Tengen is knocked to the ground. Tears well up in your eyes out of anger and frustration, blurring your vision. 

“The fuck is wrong with you man! You can’t just go grabbing girls like that. Who the fuck do you think you are?” you’d recognize that voice anywhere. It’s Gyutaro. He was on his way over when he saw Tengen grabbing you, and you were clearly distressed. 

“God, I’m so tired of your ass! You’re such a fucking corward, just fight me already and let’s get this over with!” Gyutaro rolls up his sleeves, as Tengen gets up from off the ground, covering his bleeding nose.

“Guys stop!” you yell, putting a hand on Gyutaro’s chest. You’re grateful that he defended you, but you don’t want them to start fighting and Gyutaro possibly get suspended. Just looking at him, you can tell how pissed off he is. After the constant bullying that Tengen has put him through, he’s had enough. He can handle the harassment himself, but the minute Tengen got you involved, he snapped. He doesn’t care if he gets expelled, he’s not going to let anyone harass you. The one girl that was sweet enough to stay by his side and comfort him when he needed someone the most.

When Tengen stands, he keeps his distance from Gyutaro. Wanting to avoid further damage to his ‘perfect’ appearance. So instead of a physical fight, he decides to fight back with his words.

“C’mon Gyutaro, why are you trying so hard? Do you really think that a girl like Y/N would ever be into a guy like you?” Tengen smirks when he sees the look of heartache on Gyutaro’s face. 

You notice this too. Gyutaro blushes and looks away from you, tears forming in his eyes. 

Tengen coos, “Oh poor Gyutaro, you really do like her don’t you? Even you can’t be that stupid. Stop kidding yourself man. You know she’s out of your league.”

“Gyutaro…” you whimper. Realizing that Tengen’s words are affecting him so much because it’s true. Gyutaro does have a crush on you and he does believe everything that Tengen is saying about him.

“That’s not true,” you say with confidence. Walking up to Gyutaro, holding his cheeks with both hands, forcing him to look you in the eyes. “Don’t listen to him, Gyutaro. He’s wrong.”

You take a deep breath and pull Gyutaro’s face closer to yours until your lips connect with his. This isn’t how you wanted your first kiss to go, but this is the only way to prove your point to him. 

Pulling away from the kiss, Gyutaro stares at you with wide eyes and a red face.

“I do like you, Gyutaro. I thought you were the cutest guy in class ever since I first met you. And I’ve liked you more and more every day,” you smile lovingly at him, wiping his tears away with your thumb.

Tengen almost chokes at the sight. He’s never been more embarrassed in his entire life. First he gets a bloody nose from the ‘ugliest’ guy in school, then the girl he likes confesses her love to the bastard right in front of him.

“Well I-I didn’t care anyways!” Tengen whines, pathetically trying to hold back his tears. “F-fuck you guys!” He yells as he runs away. Unable to take the humiliation any longer.

Gyutaro doesn’t know what to say. His attention is solely focused on you and the fact that the girl he’s had a crush on all semester just kissed him on the lips.

“So?” you giggle, still caressing Gyutaro’s cheek, “Do you like me back?”

He nods eagerly, “Y-yeah. Of course I do.”

“Good,” you kiss him again for good measure, “Thanks for standing up for me by the way. I don’t think Tengen will be bothering you ever again.”

Gyutaro chuckles, “Yeah, good riddance… it felt good as fuck to punch him in the face. Not as good as that kiss though.”

You take his hand and smile, “Well, I don’t mind kissing you anytime you want. As long as you agree to be my boyfriend.”

“B-boyfriend?” you can hear the disbelief in his voice. He wants to ask you if you’re sure, but you already gave him all the proof he needs. “It’d be my pleasure…”

“Then I guess it’s official then…” you swing your conjoined hands back and forth as the two of you walk out of the courtyard together. “Now all we need to do is get revenge on his girls…”

“Already done,” Gyutaro looks at you with a smirk, “My sister and her posse jumped them.”

“Oh my god are you serious?”

“Yeah,” Gyutaro laughs, “She can be ruthless… maybe you could come over and Ume could tell you all about it? It’s a funny story.”

“Sure! I’d love to come over,” you lean closer to Gyutaro and he puts his arm around your shoulder. “We’ll go to the mall next time… it can be our first official date as boyfriend and girlfriend.”

“I’d like that,” he flashes you the cutest smile as the two of you walk away from the campus. The warm glow of the sunset enveloping you as you follow him back to his place.

[the-little-red-noodle]

1-12-23 12:06am

You know it’s bad when she’s getting on tumblr

It’s probably been 10 years, nearly exactly. Where did my coping skills go? Where did my hope go? This can’t be just a boy. This is existential. This is everything wrong. This is the 2 people i loved the last 3 years being passive about my affection. Take it or leave it.

I feel empty. I’m all squeezed out. All the good parts of me were handed out in high school. All the passion, all the butterflies, all the fairytale love went down the drain with Harrison, and i don’t think I’ve been in love with anyone since. I’ve drifted to whichever nest would house me for a couple months, and now it’s catching up to my body. All the use, all the pain, all the abuse. The touches i didn’t want, the trauma of loss, and i don’t even know real loss. Abandonment. I’m a shell. You guys won, I’m empty now. I’ve been pushed between people, and didn’t love myself enough to think about it too much. That should have told everyone that something was wrong.

I haven’t hurt myself since i was 15 or 16. I haven’t had to cover up cuts and dread a hot room and dart my eyes around to see if anyone noticed. I haven’t had to strategize how to avoid revealed skin for long enough that theyd look like cat scratches.

Day 0, again. This is the 2nd time in the last few weeks now. I has this horrible realization that when you’ve had an addiction like this, it’ll find you when you’re at your lowest. Even when you’re 10 years sober. Even when you’re the one moms ask for advice about their girls hurting themselves, and you stare blankly because you legitimately forgot what it felt like. To need that, to do it, to feel the after, to hide it..

it’s hot. Warm to the touch, it feels 10 degrees higher than the rest of me. Rush of immune cells and macrophages. Lysosomes dropping off tangled proteins to ward off the invader bacteria that comes from an open wound.

I’m sorry body. I’m sorry for making you feel like you needed to expend the biomatter to clean up after me. I’m sorry for making you confused. I thought we were passed it, too.

Here you are again, Sam. 10 years later, you’ve wound up in the same mental space. You’ve lost your overachiever mentality for school. You’ve lost becca, a best friend of a decade, and you havent even begun to grieve it because youre so resentful and think youre right. You’re far from your family. Youre in a dark apartment in a city you dont care for. You’re starting to get a bad drug habit, with molly this time, so you can numb the bad and feel good. This ones way better than the weed youre using. Youre still scared to talk to girls. You’re settling for whoever will express sexual interest in you because you so badly want to be chosen. You so badly want for someone to want you and find you intoxicating. You think you used to be, i think i used to be. But a luxury product tarnishes when it’s always on sale.

Coming out of a breakup to people putting in fuck buddy applications just actually solidified that this is how people see me. I’m an object. I’m not ugly, but I’m not smart or sexy enough, I’m not actually worth the trouble i cost. I’m just pushed between rooms to the next person who wants to hold my skin for 20 minutes, say they think my hair is cool, and that I’m so interesting when i haven’t said a word.

Edgar basically telling me that he’s not sure he was ever in love with me, school pitfalls, family fragments, i cant even take care of myself enough to adopt a dog.. i just feel like this unremarkable waste of a person.

I wish that i could block me out. I deleted my instagram. I want to block everyone and delete every phone number and write out every word o hate i think and eat the paper. I feel like the paper cuts would be enough to finally drown me out.

I used to try. I used to have that fire. I would feel like i was getting back on the horse, gallop a couple yards, and then get bucked off. My attitude was my saving grace for this last decade, but it was also contrived. I was the manic pixie dream girl. I clung to that. I wanted to be just that. I wanted to be sparkly and bubbly and brightly colored but I’m cynical and I’m selfish and I’m mean and i talk about friends behind their backs and i start drama and i flirt with people until I’m done with them or get bored and move on, and i half ass things, and i have an attitude with my manager, and i eat like crap, and I’m not as friendly as i used to be, and I’m not as genuine as i used to be, and I’m not as trusting as i used to be.

Can you blame me?

Once you go through this many friendship explosions, this many breakups, this many mental breakdowns, this many panic attacks, this many nights holding a push pin, you just stop trying. I get it, id be sick of me too. Id call me a succubus too. Id uninvite me to parties. Id avoid me like the plague. The only people in my circle in la now are the ones i haven’t burned too bad yet, but i will. Because I’m selfish and bad and it’s all a lie. I’m not sweet. I’m not thoughtful. I’m not empathetic, i clam up when people spill emotions now. I’ve been tarnished. I’ve been ruined. Somewhere along the way, those things i loved about myself became myths that i tried to keep alive.

Everything hurts and I’ll close my eyes and I’ll be fine in a week, and I’ll laugh it off that i just had a bad night, just a couple of bad nights. 

I need sleep, i need physical contact, i need to feel anchored in this week but i so tragically don’t. Becca pulled my roots out of the ground and left me dry and I’ve been laying on the pavement looking up at the world growing apathetic. I deserve this. I’ll stay here.

Sorry to anyone who’s met me, sounds like a bad time ngl

[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!

[fairytheo]

enhypen as your boyfriend.

boyfriend!enhypen x gen!reader. fluff. 1.9k. curse words. mention of bugs, food. not requested.

🐈 ⸝⸝ HEESEUNG ˙𐃷˙

super-duper caring !!

he’s so whipped for you — he smiles just by thinking about you

also very giggly around you

LOVES lending you his beanies

(aka. you stealing them..)

+ you steal his earrings as well ! not that he minds

absolutely adores singing for you / he loves singing you to sleep :D

hold up, is being heeseung’s s/o just being his personal ramen cook 🤨🤨

he aaalwaays bugs you to play games with him (especially wii and nintendo switch lmao)

either that or you’re playing animal crossing while eating takeout at your dinner table

you’re the only person in the world who he’ll ever do aegyo for. 

he secretly enjoys it, but shhh you didn’t hear that from me

i think he likes calling you names like cutie, cutiepie or just a shorter version of your name <3 (if there is one !)

booping your nose is on his everyday to do list ☝️

lowkey therapist & boyfriend in one ngl

WAIT he loves making playlists for you two,, 

“y/n! i made another playlist, do you wanna listen to it? i made it while thinking of you.” <//3 

the type to write cheesy lyrics about you, then later cringes at his own writing bUT then leaves it like that because you like it !

you have his cover of lauv’s “i’m so tired” either set as your alarm or play it on loop everyday 

(random but for some reason i can picture him giving you a cassette with his cover on it just for the vintage vibes)

🐈 ⸝⸝ JAY ˙𐃷˙

the mom-and-boyfriend in one ;] 

f a s h i o n  c o u p l e 

you are literally fashion icons. no disagreements. 

you have matching clothes or accessories ! even if it’s really subtle, the gesture behind it is super adorable <//3

cooking pt. 2 :D but this time there’s a gorden ramsay in your relationship

i can just SEE how you both two impersonate gorden ramsay while cooking which makes everything 10 times funnier !! checks every 5 seconds if the food is ready tho because he doesn’t wanna risk anything

never cleans up afterwards, either you do or no one does

since you’re both fashion icons your social media followers are going 📈📈📈

literally couple goals.

he loves taking pictures of you,, but also wants you to take pictures of him 

jay gets flustered easily so please make him flustered with sudden compliments, hugs, kisses, etc. !!

he’s also the only member i can really see calling you babe

confident but shy about pda at the same time ??? he’s both LOL 

you always tease him with his RAS moments and randomly quote them when you’re in the middle of a conversation with him lmao

random and idk if this fits here, but he likes making your lunch — leaves you encouraging notes too <3

last but not least: jokingly gets angry at you when he wants something from you, and you do the same thing back ♡

🐈 ⸝⸝ JAKE ˙𐃷˙

sweetest and softest boyfriend to ever exist. i’m so soft for him JSHSHS

definitely calls you sweetie and darling. 100%. fight me if you think otherwise. 

shows you pics of layla everyday (it’s become routine for him >_<)

a tiny bit cliché BUT lends you his jacket whenever you’re cold (even when you’re inside !!)

random thought: jake puts his hands in your hoodie pockets...

💔💔💔

it’s his personal goal to peck your cheek and forehead at least twice a day — gets pouty if he wasn’t able to do that ))):::

talks in english a lot because you love his accent !!

if you’re an english speaker, you’ll have conversations in english all. the. time.

if you’re not an english speaker, no worries, he’ll teach you !

+ reads you bedtime stories in english (jake’s australian accent >>>) 

dreams of travelling with you to australia <33  

if there’s a bug in the house you better know that jake will NOT be removing them and runs out of the house

WILL stay over at one of the other member’s houses untill that bug is REMOVED . 

so if you’re afraid of bugs as well,,, i’m sorry bae, but it’ll be your task to remove these little... creatures 😐

ngl you have more photos of layla than of him on your phone lol

(spams you with her pictures and captions them with “y/n!!! look!!! layla with a flower!!!! layla with a butterfly!!!!” it’s just so sweet aaa)

we need some “””drama””” so you make jokes about him being a “🥶💸🔥💪” boy a lot in your relationship LMAO

🐈 ⸝⸝ SUNGHOON ˙𐃷˙

ice skating dates.

this has been mentioned in other headcanons a lot already but i just HAD to include it,,

convinces you to eat ice cream after your date LOL even if it IS winter

btw. fashion couple nr. 2 !!! 

MIRROR SELCAS

MIRROR SELCAS 

ugh the visuals and the power you two hold,,,, i can’t,,,,,

has better clothes than you ngl so you share clothes lmao

it started with him lending you his sweatpants, but then you didn’t want to return them forgot to return them and BOOM 💥 here we are

extremely awkward and shy at first — don’t worry though, he becomes much more chaotic in the later phases of your relationship

he teases you SO MUCH. LIKE. SO MUCH.

always has small smile (smirk?) on his face when he’s about to make a cocky remark (so beware)

you tease him back just twice as hard which 1.) results in him in becoming flustered 2.) fails LOL

off-topic but he’d love a s/o that has a similar style to him ??? a more elegant, classy, dark style perhaps

when he’s away / busy he’ll send you some selcas and captions them with “how r u doing??” “did you eat yet?” “cheer up :P” 

kinda shy about pda but likes showing off too ???

i mean,, men... 🙄🙄 /lh

whenever someone mentions your name near him, he’ll just try to hide his smile while biting his lip (yk what i’m talking about???) and you’ll see his dimples and the affectionate look in his eyes and just AAAAA

the type of boyfriend that calls you love~

🐈 ⸝⸝ SUNOO ˙𐃷˙

skin care routines with sunoo 24/7 🤝

he does your hair (if your hair is long enough to do different hairstyles with it ofc !!) 

send you daily weekly skin care products he thinks you two should try out / that’d be good for your skin <3

spa nights every friday at 9pm — he only lets you in if you wear a stylish pyjama LOL

you buy him peach items because they just remind you so much of him (｡•́︿•̀｡)

SELCA TIME !!! his phone is always ready !!! (apart from his storage maybe?)

PARTICIPATES IN SELCA DAYS OF YOUR FAVOURITE IDOLS AAA

loves to go on walks w u

does A LOT of aegyo,, 

and i know that you knew that this point will be in this headcanon.

for eg. instead of saying goodnight or bye he’ll just do aegyo for you not that anyone minds tbh

stages of sunoo flirting (?):

a — tries to compliment you (it sounds more like a flirty remark tbh)

b — realizes then blushes

c — cringes and runs away LMAO

playfully acts jealous, so you know it’s a joke but deep down he’s actually jealous

you two match each others vibes a lot — if one is sad, the other is sad as well

+ tells you your posture is bad when you sit like a banana or tells you to go to sleep early and when you don’t listen to him, he’ll show you an article that proves that (abc) and (xyz) is bad for you and says “i told you so.” 💀

🐈 ⸝⸝ JUNGWON ˙𐃷˙

impresses you by doing kicks (does the kick cap challenge on tiktok and/or you play kick it by nct 127 for the funzies) 

poking his dimple is a MUST . 😩😩

though gets super shy when you kiss him and also if you buy him gifts !!

cheers you up whenever you feel down or are upset

compliments you a ton ))): will randomly come up to you and tell you that your fit is cute or that you look brighter today,,, little does he know it's because of him ;]

HUGS!HUGS!HUGS

poking his dimple comes first, then hugging

the other members tease you two everytime you’re over LOL it’s like there are two koalas clinging onto each other

our yang garden gained another sheep +1

you two randomly play sheep,,,, like,,, everyday ???? sheep cosplays 👍

idk why ig it’s just fun to imitate sheep and go “mmmeEeEeeEhh” to annoy others

talking of that, even THOUGH he is a responsible leader he will not hesitate to do stupid shit with you

“hey how about we ring on that house there and yell “sheep for sale!” do you think they’ll open the door?”

“i don’t know... let’s find out!” 🤝

let’s just say that this didn’t end well..

also kinda bullies you (in a loving way ofc !!) pand teases you nonstop

either calls you asshole or love aHA

in conclusion: a very unpredictable relationship,, would 10/10 recommend.

very random but i feel like his love language is acts of service

🐈 ⸝⸝ NI-KI ˙𐃷˙

oh look it’s our tsundere 😼

can’t go a day without dancing so you two have vibing sessions at 2am everyday ft. the others telling you to go to bed

you’re the only one that can make him soft lol

if you’re older than him, you would definitely take care of him like your own baby !! 

if you are the same age as him or younger it’d be awkward for him at first, because he isn’t used to taking care of someone younger, so he’d treat you as if you were his best friend at the beginning

you love to watch him dance !! it’s so satisfying,, LITERAL asmr.

pranks you 24/7. boy has NO mercy. will not care if the others will scold him later. he will do the prank smoothly (?) — doesn’t care about the consequences LMAO

probably sets your alarm to someone screaming or a cringy aegyo song <//3

wants to film dance covers with you !! you don’t have to be the best dancer either !! as long as you have fun ^__^ 

the other members find you really cute but are also vERY TIRED OF YOU,, two energized teens in a relationship was not a good idea ☝️

likes to randomly hold your hand and swing it around 

probably distant at the beginning of the relationship because a.) he doesn’t want to pressure you/make things awkward b.) he doesn’t really know what to do either ???

(if you’re not japanese or don’t know how to speak japanese) he’ll definitely teach you some japanese phrases and words !! introduce you to his culture as well :DD and he really wants to know more about your culture too <3

teaches you phrases like “sunoo is a dumbass” for the funzies LOL

randomly makes micheal jackson impressions,,, it’s hilarious LMFAO

[dreamwritesimagines]

Burn The Witch 3 - Ensnared [Bucky Barnes x Reader]

A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful support and feedback my loves ! ❤ Here’s the next chapter, I hope you like it as well and please let me know what you think! ❤ Thank you! ❤❤❤

Warnings: Enemies to lovers, fake dating, mentions of blood, sex, violence, death, manipulation, language, guns.

Summary: Things aren’t always what they seem to be.

Series Masterlist

Finding out that the target you had been assigned to seduce and manipulate for information was actually a good person had its advantages and disadvantages.

For starters, the biggest advantage was that now you could prepare a strategy based on his personality. After all, good people were easier to trick, it was the people like you that would’ve given you a hard time if the roles were reversed. You had been taught to approach everyone with suspicion and pinpoint their weak spots to use against them and as it turned out, Bucky didn’t adapt the same strategy when it came to other people.

The disadvantage? You had no idea how to deal with that.

For years and years you had been trained to kill, lie, manipulate and not look back or feel guilty about any of it because you were told that all your targets were the kind of people that would’ve harmed you or others if they had the chance; so Bucky not being evil was surprising at the very least.

The infamous Winter Soldier hadn’t tried to hurt you when he was under attack, hadn’t tried to use you as a leverage to get out of there unlike what you would’ve done if the roles were reversed.

Needless to say, you were confused as hell.

“I mean when you think about it, it’s not surprising that he’s a good guy,” Chloe said, resting her feet on the table in the empty conference room, “Didn’t he fight against Thanos with Steve Rogers and everyone else?”

“I would’ve fought in that war if I could as well, it doesn’t mean that I’m a good person.”

She pouted, “That’s debatable. I think you’re a great person.”

“No I’m not. I swear to you I’m not.”

“Come on, you don’t give yourself enough credit.”

“If it were me, I would’ve pushed him into the line of fire without a second thought.”

“Exactly. We’re terrible people and we acknowledge that, Chloe.” Keith said as you tapped your pencil on the file,

“Back to the first impression strategy, guys. How do I meet Barnes?”

“Hold on, before we continue with the strategy you need to give me an answer about your cover job,” Chloe said, “We can’t have him suspect you’re hiding anything from him. Jobs are a huge part of someone’s life, it’ll come up.”

Keith raised his head, “What are the options?”

“Oh you know, the usual. Sales assistant, retail—“

“The last time you put me in retail for an undercover job, I ended up punching a customer.” he cut her off, “I vote no to the retail.”

“I’m sure they had it coming,” you deadpanned and Chloe hmmed.

“Fast food?”

“No, it makes my hair smell bad.”

“There’s a milkshake shop I can put you in, it doesn’t smell bad. It’s close to the coffee shop he and Wilson get their coffee from.”

“What’s the catch?”

A small grin pulled at her lips, “It’ll be good for the mission.”

You frowned as Keith sat up straighter, curiosity written all over his face. “Chloe? Share your devious plans with the class please?”

“It’s a retro milkshake shop and the uniforms are like….1940s pin up meets 1950s diner waitress.”

Keith started laughing and you stared at Chloe before letting out a groan, burying your face into your palms.

“I hate you so much.”

“Come on, it’s going to be Bucky Barnes’ wet dream, you know that!” Keith said, “On a completely unrelated note, can I see those uniforms?”

“No!” you snatched the phone from Chloe’s hand before Keith could take a look, “No you can’t!”

“I’m so going to take pictures, and when you become a handler I will use them to humble you.”

“I will shoot you if you do that, and can you please focus?” you insisted, “I have a meeting with General soon, and he will ask me about the strategy and I can’t go there with no ideas.”

“Just find something you and Barnes are interested in both, that never failed me,” Keith paused, “Well that, and my good looks.”

Chloe turned to look at him, “I gave her a huge file containing everything there is to know about him,” she said, “It will help her to make him fall in love, but meeting him is something else.”

“Guys,” he rolled his eyes “What are you, fifteen? It’s incredibly easy to meet people.”

“No, it’s incredibly easy to meet civilians,” you corrected him, “Or the bad guys. It’s not like Barnes goes to bars or anything, he’s not very social.”

“Yeah I get that but he has to do something.” he insisted, “Just hand me the file, are you sure you didn’t miss anything?”

“We didn’t—he does the same thing every superhero does,” Chloe threw her hands up, “He saves people if they’re in need, but how are we going to use that?”

You opened your mouth to answer but when the thought struck you, you took a sharp breath, narrowing your eyes. A smile lit up your face, the plan slowly forming in your mind and Keith frowned at you over the file.

“Y/N you’re smiling,” he reminded you, “It’s creepy when you do it genuinely.”

“He does, doesn’t he?” you asked as you turned to Chloe, “You’re right. Superheroes save people, and—and Barnes is not only a superhero, but he’s also a good guy right? He didn’t use me as a leverage while getting out of there, so he cares about people’s wellbeing, so to speak.”

“Yeah?”

You snapped your fingers, “I need to find someone to shoot me.”

“Same, you’re not special.”

Chloe gasped, “Keith!”

“Relax, she’s not serious.”

“No I’m very serious.”

He scowled, “Did you forget what happened when I accidentally shot you on a mission three years ago? It was just one time and you bitched at me for a whole month. You found me when I was working undercover in Brazil to show up at my apartment so that you could complain about it more, I don’t even know how you found my address, it was classified info.”

“I gave her your address.” Chloe held up a hand and Keith heaved a sigh.

“Thank you Brutus.”

“You had it coming,” you pointed out, “But forget about that for a second, okay? I think I just found our strategy. We’re going to use me as a bait.”

“What?”

“That’s how I’ll meet him. We will put me in a dangerous position and he will…” you tried to ignore the bitter taste at the back of your throat, “He will have to save me.”

“I’m sorry,” Chloe said, “He will help you and you will use that to lure him, did I get that right?”

“Exactly,” you grinned, “What better way to manipulate a hero than to give him somebody to save?”

She blinked a couple of times, then turned to Keith.

“Honestly, in times like these I wonder why I’m friends with you guys,” she commented, “Do you have any idea why on earth I’m friends with you?”

He shrugged his shoulders,

“I don’t know,” he said, “Because we’re fun when we’re not diabolical?”

                                           ***

The plan was pretty simple, it would look like a robbery gone wrong. You would be accompanied by one of the lower ranking agents who would pose as a robber so that if he got caught while getting away, it would pose no threat to your cover afterwards, not to mention it couldn’t be traced back to you or the operation.

Of course, you had to make sure that Bucky would stay behind and meet you while Wilson chased the bad guy off. Based on your observations on Wilson, saving people always came first rather than punishing the other person, he put the safety of innocents before anything else, so you had to find a way for them to think Wilson was more suitable for the chase.

Motorcycle. The rookie agent would get away on a motorcycle, which would require Wilson to use his wings to gain speed on him.

But God, you just hated playing the damsel in distress.

“I just want to say I’m honored that you picked me for this mission,” the agent was almost buzzing with excitement in the back alley while you waited until Wilson and Barnes was anywhere within hearing distance. “I heard- I heard so much about you Shrike. Ma’am.”

You leaned your back to the wall, crossing your arms.

“Is it true that you once killed a target using just a pencil?” he asked, “Or that you took down five armed people with a dagger?”

You turned your head to look at him better, amusement making you smile.

“Or- or that you can get information out of someone in just five minutes?” he held his breath, “Or that your father-“

“Don’t talk about my father.” You cut him off, the harsh command leaving your lips almost too fast and you felt the slight guilt pulling at your heartstrings before you shook your head.

“You’re a good shot, right?” you asked, “I don’t want to get the bullet stuck in my arm, you’ll just graze me.”

“I’m a great shot ma’am, top of my class.”

“And you need to make it look believable. Remember, if Wilson catches you—“

“He will take me to the nearest police station, and I will stay there until an agent is sent to pick me up. But do you want me to get caught?”

“Try not to,” you shrugged your shoulders “But if he does, don’t worry about it. He has no reason to believe it’s anything more than some mugging.”

His phone beeped and he checked it, then took a deep breath, “Barnes and Wilson are within hearing distance. Are you ready?”

“Let’s do this,” you said and he grabbed his gun, then pointed it at your arm. You cleared your throat, looking over your shoulder before you turned to him and let out a very high scream, probably enough to reach the people nearby. He pulled the trigger and the gunshot echoed through the alley, a burning spreading all over your arm and making you fall to your knees.

“Are you okay?” he stepped closer to you and you tried to catch your breath.

“Go!” you hissed and he ran to the motorcycle before he rode away and as soon as he was out of your sight, Barnes and Wilson ran to the alley and you started sobbing, holding onto your arm which throbbed in pain.

Good news was he was a good shot, and he had managed to only graze you. But considering that your cover was a civilian, you doubted civilians were used to gunshot wounds, so you had to make it dramatic.

“Ma’am?” Wilson rushed to you with Barnes following him and you tried to breathe through sobs.

“Thank God, please help me—“ you sniffled and looked at the other side of the alley, breathing fast, “He took my wallet, and-and he had a motorcycle…”

“On it. Buck, stay with her.” Wilson said and ran out of the alley as Barnes crouched down to your level while you kept panting, your knees pulled to your chest, leaning back to the wall.

“Hi,” he smiled at you softly and you took a trembling breath, looking up at him with wide eyes.

“Hello,” you managed to say as he stole a look at your arm before his eyes snapped back to yours.

“I’m Bucky,” he said, “What’s your name?”

“Y/N.”

“Can I look at your arm, Y/N?”

You pursed your lips together, pretending to consider it before you raised your hand so that he could see the graze on your upper arm. He furrowed his brows for a moment, and carefully lifted your arm to see it better under the street lights while you sniffled again.

“Am I—am I going to die?” you stammered and he let out a small chuckle.

“No,” he said, “No you won’t. It’s just a graze, it doesn’t even look like it’ll need stitches. I promise.”

“But how do you know?”

“Let’s just say I’ve had my fair share of arm injuries.”

You tried to keep the look of confusion on your face before you slowly averted your gaze from him to his metal wrist and you gasped, your jaw dropping as if you were distracted from the pain.

“Bucky? As in Bucky Barnes?” you asked, “Wait, no. Right? Can’t be.”

A look of regret flashed over his face, apparently he thought that would scare you but lucky for you, you had seen it coming while coming up with a strategy.

“I heard about you!” you said, “You fought against Thanos!”

He was taken aback at the fact that you didn’t accuse him of anything his head was obviously swarming with, and that would be the one thing you could base your whole plan on.

In order to make him fall in love with you and trust you, you had to act like you trusted him, act like you had little to no knowledge of the dark side of his past. Naïve civilian girl with a soft heart was the perfect cover because as far as you could tell from his file, Bucky Barnes just wanted to come back home from war.

He had been looking for something he could call his home for decades now and you’d let him believe you were his home until your orders told you otherwise.

“That’s it?” he asked when you didn’t continue and you pulled your brows together.

“Hm?”

“That’s all you…all you wanted to say?”

“Right—” you took a deep breath, “Right, I’m sorry. Thank you for all you’ve done, for saving the world.”

“No no, I didn’t mean—“ he stopped himself, “That wasn’t what I meant. Trust me, you shouldn’t be thanking me.”

“Well I am though,” you winced when you moved your arm before turning your head to check the dark alley “Bucky? Do you… do you think that robber would come back?”

“Sam’s got it covered.” he assured you, “Don’t worry. He’s not getting away, and he’s definitely not coming back here.”

“Okay.” You murmured and wiped at your eye again with the back of your free hand before you clutched at your arm again, a sob tearing itself from your chest. “God, it just—it hurts so bad...”

He shushed you gently, “I know it does sweetheart. Let’s get you to the hospital so that it will stop hurting, alright?”

Ah.

Even by 40s standards, sweetheart was a good sign.

You shook your head, “But I can’t go to the hospital.”

“Why not?”

“I’m on a budget.”

He blinked a couple of times, “Come again?”

“I don’t have enough money for the hospital. I’m sure if I put a band aid on it or something it’d work, you said it wouldn’t need stitches and there’s a pharmacy right around the corner you see—”

“That’s not how bullet wounds work, let’s go.” He helped you up but you stumbled into him, letting him catch you as you looked up at him.

“I apologize, I just feel dizzy…” you said and he smiled softly.

“Don’t worry about it,” his voice was soothing, “You think you can walk? I can carry you.”

“No I can—I can walk,” you stammered and let him lead you out of the alley, his arm wrapped around your waist tight before he looked down at you.

“You’re shaking,” he murmured to himself, then he took off his jacket to put it over your shoulders. You pulled the oversized jacket tighter around you, brushing the sleeve over your forehead to push back your hair and only when he turned to stop a taxi you let a tiny smirk pull at your lips despite the throbbing on your arm.

Well, your superiors were going to be pleased. The first part of the mission was done.

Now all you had to do was make him fall in love with you.

                             Chapter 4

[winterlinksandotherlinks]

Ravio Marchand — local merchant, family man, and husband of the Hero of Legend! Also featuring an obligatory Sheerow

I love LiWiAU Ravio so much, y'all have no idea I’ll yell some more about it in the tags dw

Thoughts and bonus doodle under the cut, and a shout-out to @astrolabe-blade for lending an ear in the character development process ❤

Ravio is one of those characters that I first encountered in fan content, and I've never really been able to stray all that far from that. As a result, I really don't know how much remains of the original character, beyond the name, the occupation, and the general appearance. Still, I care a lot about him, and I hope you'll all also enjoy him

originally from Lorule — his mother was a herbalist, his father made wicker-baskets, and their garden was frequently visited by birds;

this was the garden Sheerow, a blue-and-white sparrow-like bird hatched in one autumn, and Ravio’s mother took great care in nurturing Sheerow through the winter — Ravio loved playing with Sheerow, and always claimed to be able to speak telepathically with him;

for reasons currently unknown, Ravio and Sheerow do, in fact, speak telepathically with each other;

when Ravio was six, his parents died, and he ended up on the streets — he made a friend who introduced him to Mamie, and older lady who Ravio views as a grandmotherly figure (Mamie’s also Mitchi’s biological great-grandma);

when Ravio started working for Hilda, he used his income to buy Mamie and red-and-purple woollen shawl that, later, was passed back to him (see the illustration above);

trans (ftm) — found appropriate resources to transition once he moved to Hyrule (has only had top surgery), but is on bad days still insecure about his waist, hips, and thighs;

enjoys being the care-taker in the household, but worries that it’ll make him appear less masculine in other people’s eyes;

knows more or less everything about Legend’s adventures, and helped Legend through the rocky period post-Koholint (I’ve fiddled around with the order of Legend’s adventures, but I’ll talk more about that in the post about Legend) — heard about Marin before he knew anything about Koholint, and was secretly furious with her for the state Legend was in (these days he’s accepted that some part of Legend always will love Marin, and come to enjoy hearing Legend’s anecdotes about Koholint);

works as a merchant at ‘Link’s Orchard and Ravio’s Magic Items’ (a small shop-expansion to Legend’s cottage), and crafts enchanted items for sale and renting — so far, he’s created a magic boiler for bath water, and he’s considering inventing a magic washer and a magic broom (essentially the equivalent of a washing machine and a vacuum cleaner);

travels for a few weeks every summer, together with Legend, to trade all over Hyrule and Lorule;

when I write Ravio, I tend to imagine a softer less-dramatic version of Howl from Howl’s Moving Castle, with some added flavour;

to distinguish between Hyrulean and Lorulean, I’ve decided to use French as a place-holder for Lorulean (French!Ravio was an idea that occurred when I saw @guardedchild​ ’s wonderful colouring of this RavioLink illustration);

Ravio calls Legend ‘mon lapin’ (trans.: ‘sweetheart’, ‘[my] bunny’) — beyond three months of French in high school, I’m not as familiar with the language as I’d like to, so this is purely what I’ve learned from Reverso and some deep-dives in dictionaries (if any French-speaking person thinks I got it wrong, please let me know);

Ravio and Legend’s interactions, under normal circumstances, are definitely that flavour of flirting that’s thinly veiled as almost-scathing banter;

Ravio firmly believes there’s a tea for any situation; 

his favourite dish is Mamie’s cassoulet (a savoury bean stew);

bought matching mugs for himself and Legend once (one’s pink, the other’s purple, and they both have bunnies painted on them);

half his clothes have apple blossom embroideries thanks to Legend (whenever Legend takes his shirts/tunics, it’s always a tossup between “Legend just sort of forgets to return them and wears them casually around the cottage” and “Legend returns them covered in embroideries” — either way, Ravio doesn’t mind);

Ravio knew very early on that he liked Legend, but kept it to himself because of Marin — at first just because he didn’t know who she was to Legend, and then because he assumed Legend was still grieving her;

Ravio and Legend got married the day they started dating (it’s a rollercoaster, and the entire 16,000-and-some words of Ch. 2 of Out of Time is about this);

Ravio marks all the items he sells with a watermark/trademark/y’know what I mean (I can’t remember the actual word for this in any of the languages I know rn, but see the doodle below);

knows Warriors from the War of Eras, and is essentially best friends with Linkle (she knows everything about Ravio, Legend, Mitchi, and Fable, and Ravio knows everything about Linkle, Warriors, and their Zelda) — Malon’s later included in this little group, and the three of them are inseparable; 

Ravio’s very proficient with his hammer (which he may or may not have placed some enchantments on) — Legend doesn’t know this yet, but he’ll find it very attractive when he does, and might have a minor existential crisis over it;

Ravio has copied the bracelet he gave Legend, so both of them can travel between Hyrule and Lorule

I probably have more thoughts about him (and his interactions with the others! especially Hyrule!), but this post is already long and detailed, so I’ll leave it here for now

Bonus doodle of Ravio's branding/trademark/thing (the line below the bunny hood is supposed to be some kind of writing, probably saying something along the lines of, “Made by Ravio Marchand, Hyrulean merchant and enchanter”):

[twopoppies]

I’m not really looking forward to the HS3 era push right now. I think the sex sells things is absolutely what they’re going for. You saw those peeks during the Grammys and the non-uniform outfits on tour that were basically thirst trap shirtless looks. Definitely made to draw attention to sex appeal. And that’s fine. But I agree with the unsustainable nature of this ambiguity. And if it will feel like he’s playing around with a bi/pan identity for selling things to as many people as possible. And part of being able to have this male interest at this time is because Olivia is still right there. Which just feels off to me. I get he’s bound by contracts, and I absolutely think he’s working off Sony’s formula of what will get the most attention and streams and sell. Regardless of how truly authentic it is to Harry. And I obviously also know he’s hinted a bit at this type of direction with talking about My Policeman influencing his writing, giving him plausible inspiration for themes and male characters. But for some reason it’s just hitting a bit more manufactured as you and Daisy pointed out. Which is too bad for some fans. The GP won’t care. Which is why Sony won’t care. It’ll get all the buzz and curious streams. But the free love group bed aspect feels very, I don’t know… not great. Like the orgy type criticism of Lights Up (which missed the point of LU) but actually going for it. Sigh, I just wanted Eroda back or TPWK but we get Watermelon Sugar 2.0. So true that sex sells. And psychedelic theme sex will probably sell more. I have to remind myself often that while Harry controls some things, he’s also very bound and very much a super controlled group think mass market appeal brand at this point.

Hi honey. Yeah, I'm nervous about a lot of aspects of what we're thinking might be a part of this video. Harry tends to throw us for a loop and never does what we expect, but I think we're very much getting Watermelon Sugar 2.0 which, honestly, I knew was coming as soon as the song took off. The suits always want "the last success with a new twist". ALWAYS. In every industry I've ever worked in. So none of us should be surprised. And I think it's helpful (at least for me) to remember that this is selling a brand. Harry Styles™ is a brand and they're wrapping it up in whatever way they think will get the most streams/sales/awards/articles/gossip etc. and that doesn't necessarily mean that's who Harry Styles is as a person.

As for HS3 as a whole? They've always tried to sell his albums as being about his love life. Fine Line was "sex and feeling sad" which we all know barely even touched the surface of what it was about and how much it meant to so many of us. So maybe we're getting sexy guy having sex era. But I really don't think that's all we're going to get.

My advice to everyone who's wringing their hands over what's coming is to just take a deep breath and try to stop catastrophising. Nothing is ever what fandom makes it into before we get all the information.

On the plus side, free love and sex does get him away from the "I'm so in love with my A-list director girlfriend" narrative. 🙄

[angelicyoongie]

everything i brew, i brew it for you

⤷ 1.2k follower event request: Familiar!Seokjin x Witch!Reader + “I should’ve told you back then, but I didn’t want you to leave.” + Fluff/Angst ⤷ @softescapism​ said: seokjin x reader or OT7 x reader + prompt C8 + witch/familiar, fluff, sfw (hi! could you write a drabble/scenario/short fic for the follower event based on this, please? 💓) ⤷ word count: 2.1k ⤷ a/n: this is a little angsty in the beginning, but the ending is all fluff! i hope you like it!!

“There you are!” You grumble, snatching up a vial from the back of your cabinet. The little thing is covered with dust, the label yellowed with age and barely clinging on to the glass. But even then, there’s no mistaking the content. The shimmering pink powder inside makes you stomach flip uneasily, but you know it has to be done. You uncap the bottle before you can talk yourself out of it, carefully sprinkling the powder counter-clockwise into the boiling concoction in your pot. You can’t help but frown as it slowly turns from clear to bright pink, the stark colour mocking you as you throw in a pair of four leaf clovers with a little more force than necessary. The kitchen is quiet aside from the bubbling brew and the rhythmic tapping of your impatient fingers against the counter, your eyes resting nervously on the dark garden outside your window. You promised Seokjin years ago that you would never make this particular potion again, but you’ve run out of options.

You love being a potions witch, but truth be told, it’s probably the worst financial decision you could have made. All witches have to choose their niche the day they turn eighteen, and you, driven by the long list of potions witches in your ancestry, wanted to follow in their footsteps. What you didn’t account for however, is just how drastically the times have changed. Larger covens have started selling their potions online, making them in big batches to cut down on the cost and shipping them all across the country. There’s no longer a need for a town to have their own potions witch, not when you can get them delivered to your doorstep for a cheaper price. The mass produced potions are definitely not as potent as a singularly brewed ones, but it seems people care more about price than efficiency these days. Well, at least most people don’t care. And considering business has been dwindling so alarmingly fast over the last four months that you’re barely scraping by, there’s not a chance that you can lower your prices anymore than you already have.

You shake your head, trying your best to ignore the tendrils of guilt wrapping around your chest. As long as your familiar doesn’t find out about this order, there will be nothing for him to worry about. That's why you’re hunkered over the stove in the first place; desperately hoping that it will be done in time before he comes home. Tonight is Seokjin’s monthly familiar night with Hoseok and Namjoon, and the only window of alone time you have to make something like this. You murmur a quick incantation under your breath as you give the potion one last stir, watching as the pink brew slowly darkens to red. The sickly sweet smell that whiffs up from the cauldron almost makes you gag, but at least it tells you that the potion is almost complete.

You take a step back, throwing another glance towards the window as you count down the seconds in your head. Five minutes. That’s all you need. It’ll be finished, and you can finally hand over the love potion to your customer tomorrow. Despite your reservations and Seokjin’s hatred for that particular brew, it’s actually not that bad. It can’t force someone to fall in love, but it does make them more .. loose-lipped around their crush if they happen to have one. If anything, it’s honestly more of a rebranded truth serum. It does make you want to confess your feelings, and that’s also where the dubious morality of the potion comes in. Even if the person is already in love with someone, it still forces the recipient to act on emotions that they might not be ready to, or even want to share with their crush. You’ve turned down requests for this potion numerous times in the past, but this time, you truly can’t afford to. Seokjin might be older, but he’s still your familiar. Your responsibility. It’s not his fault that he decided to create a bond with you – a witch who can hardly sell enough potions to keep food on the table. You have honestly no idea how you managed to end up with a familiar like him, one that’s so utterly selfless and helpful. Seokjin’s guidance and assistance feels a little wasted on you, and you can’t help but think that your familiar should’ve ended up with a different witch. One that would actually be able to repay him properly for everything he does. You let out a deep sigh. You’ll just have to do better. Maybe you can try to set up one of those witchgram accounts Taehyung is doing so well on, after all, the ritual witch’s sales has been increasing.

The brew suddenly releases a puff of red smoke, signaling its completion. You hastily grab an empty bottle, scooping up as much as possible as you fill the vial to the brim. ”Shit, not yet,” You can suddenly feel the familiar itch behind your right ear, a telltale sign that Seokjin will be home soon. You scramble to turn off the oven as you hear your familiar open the back door, just about managing to shove in a cork at the top of the bottle and hide it behind your back as Seokjin steps into the kitchen.

”Hey! How was your night out?” You lean awkwardly against the counter, bottle digging into your back as you press it flush against your body.

”It was good,” Your heart flutters as Seokjin comes closer, the handsome features never failing to make your heart skip a treacherous beat. ”How was your night?” Your familiar raises an eyebrow as he takes in your awkward posture, the lingering scent of magic in the air betraying what you’ve been up to while he was gone.

”Boring! You know, just very normal and .. boring,” You wince. You breath hitches as Seokjin stalks closer, the frown tugging on his lips causing another wave of guilt to crash through you. You brain shuts down as he cages you in against the counter, and you swear you only blink before you find yourself staring at a red vial in front of your face, your hand grasping around air.

”I see,” Seokjin huffs, ”It’s so very boring and normal to brew a potion we agreed we wouldn’t sell.” As Seokjin stares down at the bottle with disdain before he places it on the counter, you can’t help but shrink against the wood, wracking your brain to figure out a good excuse. You can’t explain why you did it without exposing Seokjin to yourfinancial issues, and you have no plans of doing it – but, then you catch your familiar’s gaze, his kind eyes filled with saddened disappointment as he says, ”Y/n, why would you do this behind my back?”

The reason bubbles up your throat before you can stop it, the words bitter on your tongue as you blurt out a panicked, ”I had to! Business isn’t going well and we need the money, I couldn’t turn the customer away.” You register the flash of shock in Seokjin’s eyes, the purple tint around his brown irises brightening before he gets it under control. Your familiar runs a hand through his hair, leaving the dark locks messy and disheveled as he let out a deep sigh.

”For how long has this been going on?” You slump against the counter, adverting your eyes down to the floor as you mumble, ”Four months. I should’ve told you back then, but I didn’t want you to leave. I thought I could fix it before it became too much of a problem .. I just didn’t want to make you regret choosing me.”

Seokjin’s eyes soften, an exasperated huff of air leaving his lips as he places his fingers under your chin, tilting your head back up. ”Y/n, I would never regret choosing you as my witch,” Your familiar keeps his gaze locked with yours, his eyes urging you to understand the sincerity behind his words. "I just wish you had told me, we could have worked this out together much earlier.”

”I didn’t want you to worry,” You frown. "You already do so much by making deliveries and gathering ingredients, and I didn’t want to burden you more." You feel your breath hitch as Seokjin’s hand moves from your chin to cup your cheek, his touch gentle as he runs his thumb across your skin.

“That’s what I’m supposed to do as your familiar, Y/n. I’m here to help you and guide you, but I can’t do that if you don’t tell me when something’s wrong.” You know that, you really do, but it’s still hard to accept sometimes – the fact that you can’t solve everything on your own.

“I’m sorry,” You pout.

”I know,” Seokjin nods, a faint smile on his lips as he moves his hands to your back, pulling you into a hug. ”Just talk to me next time, yeah?”

”I will, I promise,” Your voice is muffled by the thick material of his sweater, but you know your familiar hears you as his arms tighten around your waist in response.

”Good,” Seokjin’s voice is fond as his fingers draw small patterns against your back. You feel yourself relaxing into Seokjin’s hold, your body melting against his as he rests his head on top of yours. ”How are we going to fix it though? I’ve tried almost everything I can think of. There’s nothing that beats low prices and convenience,” You sigh.

”Of course there is,” You pull back at the affronted tone in Seokjin’s voice, your familiar looking down at you like you personally offended him. Seokjin releases you from his hold, his hands flying up to cup his face as he says, ”I can beat that. This–” He points wildly at his face, ”–is sure to bring business in again. No one can resist the opportunity to glance upon this handsome face.” You snort at the expectant expression on his face, rolling your eyes so hard it feels like they’re close to popping out. As much as you like teasing Seokjin for his confidence, he’s not wrong. There’s no one in this town that can come close to Seokjin’s handsomeness, and well, everyone knows it. That’s the biggest reason you have Seokjin running errands and making deliveries, because it means he won’t have to deal with being ogled by all the customers that stop by. For all the banter and smiles he would flash at your customers, you could tell it made your familiar uncomfortable. You could see the way he gently tried to pull away when touches lingered a little too long on his arms, his ears stained a permanent red the days he worked out in the shop.

”Making money isn’t worth it if means you’ll have to do something that makes you uncomfortable,” You shake your head, ignoring the flutter in your chest as you grasp Seokjin’s hands, pulling them away from his face.

”I’ll be fine,” Seokjin says. It’s your familiar’s turn to roll his eyes as he sees the doubtful look on your face. ”I mean it. Please trust me just this once? I’ll let you know the moment it gets too much.”

You hesitate, using the extra seconds to search his face for any uncertainty. ”Fine,” You grumble. You owe it to your familiar to at least extend the trust he has given you back to him.

”Don’t look so sad Y/n, you know you’re the only witch that gets unlimited access to my handsome face,” Seokjin grins.

”Shut up,” You groan, pushing lightly at his chest. You can feel the heat creeping up your neck as Seokjin looks down at you, and you find yourself thankful that familiars don’t have enhanced hearing, otherwise your heart would’ve surely given you away years ago. Something flickers in Seokjin’s eyes, and your familiar’s grin turns heart wrenchingly soft as he ducks his head down.

”I do mean it Y/n, you really are the only witch for me.” You freeze as Seokjin leans in, your blood rushing in your ears as you feel your familiar’s plush lips press against the corner of your mouth. As your brain finally catches up to what just happened, Seokjin has already pulled back. The spot he kissed is burning against your skin, and you barely manage to make sense of Seokjin’s warm gaze lingering on your lips before his eyes flicker behind your back, eyebrow quirking as he says, ”Now, what should we do about that potion?”  

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Wolf in Sheep’s Clothing

Pairings: Arvin Russel x Fem!Christian!Reader

Summary: Arvin knew he shouldn’t have left you alone with that new preacher... 

Warnings: Sexual assault, physical assault, cursing, Teagarden being a perv, really nothing out of the ordinary for this movie. 

Word Count: 5250

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“Arvin! Stop!” You giggled, pushing your boyfriend off of you as he nibbled up and down your neck. There wasn’t anything sexual about it, he just loved to hear you laugh and he knew how much the action tickled your skin. “You’re so annoyin’!” You laughed, cheeks flushed red as you gently pressed on his head to try and move it. 

He pressed himself up, looking down at you like you were the most beautiful thing he’d ever lay his eyes on. Arvin was straddling you, his knees trapping your hips beneath him. A hand was placed on either side of your head and he looked down at you, ���But you’re so pretty when you laugh.” 

“Oh? And I’m ugly all the rest of the time?” You asked jokingly, hands reaching up stroke up and down his arms. 

Arvin leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips before pulling away ever so slightly, hovering just above your lips. Both of your guys’ eyes were still closed as if it were a romantic moment until he whispered, “Ugly as a mule.” 

You both busted up laughing and you shoved him, his body rolling onto the blanket beside you, “I’m breaking up with you.” You teasingly told him. 

“Ah, c’mon. You know you love me.” He looked over at you, loving how the autumn sun lit up your features. 

“I tolerate you. Don’t get it mixed up.” You rolled your head over to see him already admiring you. Your smile got bigger when you locked eyes with him. 

“Well I love you.” Arvin admitted sweetly, bringing a gentle hand to your cheek and kissing you one more time. 

Arvin made you feel beautiful and special and safe, all those things that no boy had ever made you feel. He always had. Even when you were children back in middle school and neither of you really talked to each other, when you saw him around the halls, a peace just settled over you that made you feel like you were on top of the world. When the two of you began dating ten months ago, that never changed. 

“I love you too.” 

The two of you laid back against the yellow blanket with little orange flowers on it, the one that you’d taken from the linen closet back home. This was yours and Arvin’s favorite place, a little clearing in the woods. The grass was tall enough to be soft but not so tall that it hid critters. Flowers lined the edge of the woods in the spring. It wasn’t springtime now but that only meant that instead of a display of white and yellow flower buds, the pair of you had a beautiful show of brilliant reds and oranges from the falling leaves. 

Everyone in town knew you were together. Word spread fast around Coal Creek and it was nearly impossible to hide anything. Your families were both supportive of the relationship. Emma loved that you were involved with the church and put effort into the community when you could, often participating in bake sales around town. She liked to tease that you won Arvin over with your “man catching apple cobbler” as she now called it, since he officially asked you to be his girlfriend over a slice of the delicious dessert after a Sunday service. 

Your parents liked Arvin as well. Even after Fred Dinwoodie had told your dad about what Arvin had done to Gene, it surprisingly made him like Arvin more. “You got yourself a good man who knows right from wrong and ain’t afraid to stand up for the people he loves.” Was what he’d said, which had surprised you. You knew that Arvin had beaten all the boys right after he’d done it, since he came to you to help him calm down and ice his knuckles. You were terrified for your parents to find out, though, sure that they’d tell you to break up with him for fear of violent tendencies. Thankfully, that day never came. 

It was nice out there, bundled up in a warm brown coat, laying on Arvin’s chest, and watching the leaves fly across the crisp sky in the breeze. 

“We should probably get headin’ back.” You said reluctantly, pushing yourself up to sitting. 

“Why’s that?” Arvin perched on his elbow to watch you tighten the jacket around your frame, a cool breeze hitting just right. 

“The new preacher asked me to come by this afternoon. Said he needed help planning a fundraiser to raise money for the less fortunate families in town.” You traced a finger over his knuckles gingerly, small pink marks littering his knuckles from his attack on Dinwoodie and his boys still healing over. 

“Ain’t you one o’ them less fortunate families in town?” He asked, trying to find a way to talk you out of this. Ever since Preston Teagarden had humiliated Emma on his first day, Arvin had it out for the man. 

You scoffed with a chuckle, “Yeah, but you are too and your grandma is still always bringin’ stuff to church. Just cause I’m broke as shit doesn’t mean I can’t try to help other people who are broke as shit.”

Arvin stood up with you and helped you fold up the blanket, “I just don’t like that new preacher. Somethin’s off about ‘im.” 

“I agree that he was totally out of line callin’ your grandma out like that two weeks ago but I’d like to think that maybe I can talk to him about it.” The two of you began to walk back to Arvin’s car, grass swishing under your steps. 

Arvin’s face twisted, “I just don’t trust the man. He’s always up there on that damn stage actin’ all high ‘n mighty every Sunday like he ain’t done nothin’ wrong.” He reached forward and opened your door for you, closing it after you slid onto the seat. He walked around the car and got into the driver’s seat. 

“He’s a sinner like the rest of us. It’s just about doing what you can to make yourself better.” You responded, looking over at Arvin sweetly. He gave you a skeptic look and sighed deeply as he turned his attention back to look towards the road. With one hand on the steering wheel, he slid his free hand over to hold yours gently. The rest of the drive was in comfortable silence, with the exception of the radio quietly playing in the background. 

Arvin loved you. He really really loved you. You generally had your wits about you, a heck of a lot more than most of the girls in Coal Creek, not allowing your religion to totally cloud your vision. You were a good girl, good enough to make his grandma happy and not cause too much trouble around town, always helping those in need, but not so pious that you made everyone else around you feel like a sinner. You were still fun, you still made mistakes. Arvin felt like you were something between ethereal and real, somehow elevating him as a person but also showing him just how good life could be. 

Nevertheless, he couldn’t help but feel like you were making a mistake with this preacher. Of course, with your caring nature, you would help him, especially knowing it was for the poor folks in town. But something about Teagarden just made Arvin’s skin crawl. He just couldn’t put his finger on it… 

The tires rolled to a crunching halt on the gravel outside of the church. The graveyard to the side looked dark and gloomy as always, the cloud of loss looming over almost everyone in this town in one way or another. The church, though, stood small and humble in the field, white paint chipping after years of weathering. 

“Thank you for the ride.” You leaned over and pecked Arvin on the cheek. 

He let out a heavy sigh, “You really sure you don’t just want me to take you home?” 

You rolled your eyes at him with a sweet smile on your face, “Yes, I’m sure. It’ll be fine, Arv, but thank you for the concern.” Opening the door, you climbed out, “I’ll see you tomorrow?” 

“What? No. I’m givin’ you a ride home.” Arvin looked offended that you even suggested such blasphemy. 

“I don’t want you to have to drive all the way back here for me and I don’t know how long this’ll take. Besides, I don’t live too far from here.” You shook your head, leaning against the open door.

Arvin raised his eyebrows, “What kind of man would I be if I let you walk home alone at night? I’m givin’ you a ride home ‘n that’s final. I have to run to the market anyways to get some stuff for my grandma so I’ll just do that ‘n come back here for ya.” 

With loving warmth welling up in your chest, you leaned into the car, holding onto the roof for balance, while you kissed him on the lips, “I’ll see you in a few then.” 

Pulling yourself back out of the car, you closed the door and waved before spinning to walk towards the church. Looking behind you, you gave Arvin one final wave before disappearing through the door. 

The church was empty, though you expected nothing less on a Saturday afternoon. The pews were empty so you wandered into the building curiously. You closed the door behind you as you walked further in. “Hello? Reverend?” 

Preston Teagarden approached from the door off to the side of the main stage, where his office had been located, “Y/N! Forgive me, I expected you to be a little bit later.” 

You stopped in your tracks, “Oh, I’m sorry! You didn’t say an exact time. Just afternoon…” You chuckled awkwardly, suddenly feeling bad for arriving early. 

“No, no, it’s no problem at all,” He waved his hand dismissively. Teagarden made his way down the aisle a few rows before stopping, “So from what I’ve heard, you are the one to talk to about fundraising” 

Flattered, your cheeks turned a light shade of pink, “Oh, well I don’t know about that… I’ve done a few fundraisers but I wouldn’t say I’m the one to go to.” 

“Nonsense, girl! I’m sure you’ll help plan something amazing. Now, why don’t you come over here and we can start talking about it.” He gestured towards the pew he was leaning on and waited for you to sit down before sliding in next to you. 

Your legs crossed when you sat down, “So, I was thinking about this for a few days and the high school has a harvest festival every November. If we set up a bake sale, we could easily raise a few hundred dollars, at least. Everybody loves Mrs. Lyle’s lemon bars and I’m sure those alone could rake in a small fortune.” You giggled a little at your small joke and the preacher did as well. 

As he did so, his arm slid behind your shoulder so smoothly, you almost didn’t notice at first. Almost. Though the action took you off guard, you chose to write it off. People had done this before to you platonically so this probably didn’t mean anything. Just a show of interest in what you had to say. 

“Mmm, you’re makin’ me crave some sweets,” Teagarden chuckled, looking over his shoulder and then back around the room. 

“Well I can guarantee that you won’t be disappointed. Coal Creek ain’t got much but if we got one thing, it’s some mighty good bakers.” You dug around in your bag that you’d brought, searching for the journal that you’d been planning this event out on, “I actually did some math and I was thinking… we could charge a dime per cookie or a dollar a dozen, yeah? And then maybe a quarter for a slice of pie and then a dollar twenty five for-” 

The preacher stopped you, placing his hand on the notebook, “You really thought this out, huh? You sure are one smart girl there, Y/N. You go to the high school?”

The older man had scooched closer to you sometime during your ramblings and suddenly, you began to feel suffocated by his presence. His body was nearly flush against yours and his arm around your shoulders were trapping. 

He’s a preacher, he wouldn’t do nothin’, you tried to convince yourself but Arvin’s voice came ringing in your ears: I just don’t like that new preacher. Somethin’s off about ‘im. Trying not to be obvious, just in case you were misreading things, you slid away from him just slightly to put some distance between your bodies. As you did so, however, Teagarden’s hand closed around your left shoulder, rubbing it firmly but gently. 

Your eyes widened when you looked over at his grip and your heart began to pick up pace. “Yeah.” Your voice was shakier than you thought it would be. 

“What are ya? Junior, senior? You look young… but definitely not a little girl.” His eyes raked tactically over your body. Your legs were shaped out well in your cuffed denim jeans and your white and pink striped boat neck long sleeve shirt was far from revealing but Preston was well aware of the way the stripes curved out of place over your breasts. 

“Senior. I’ll be graduating this June.” Now your voice was solid and low, just teetering on threatening. 

The preacher smiled, “Ah, ain’t that exciting. Such a smart pretty little thing going out into the real world. It’s good to see a nice Christian girl going out there but y’know, the real world is real bad. Believe you me. You gotta be real careful out there. Temptation and sin ‘round every corner. The devil hides himself, y’know? Wraps up all his evil and disguises it as everythin’ you ever wanted.” 

“A wolf in sheep’s clothing.” You stated quietly but firmly, looking up to lock eyes with him. Arvin was right. Something was certainly off about this man and you were becoming more and more uncomfortable by the second. 

Preston smiled proudly, “That’s right. Now, you gotta make sure you ain’t fallin’ into any o’ his traps.” 

Your jaw clenched and your eyes darted around the room before landing in your lap, “I’d like to think I got a good ‘nough head on my shoulders to see Satan working in disguise.” 

He tsked, “That’s a good start but you can’t go relyin’ on your own knowledge of the world. You need to let God tell you what’s right ‘n wrong. Trust in Him.” His hand on your shoulder shook you slightly for emphasis while his other pointed upwards towards Heaven. 

There was a brief moment of silence in which you could have heard a pin drop before he spoke again, “How is your walk with God?” 

You looked over at him with narrowed eyes, “It’s alright. Could be better but everyone’s could, I s’pose.” 

“I agree,” Preston’s leg started bouncing and he looked towards the front of the church, where he typically stood preaching, “E’ryone could walk a little closer. Myself included.” He gestured to the front of the church, “Why don’t we pray? C’mon over here.” 

He stood up and walked up to the head of the room, just below the cross. Cautiously, you followed him. “I like to think as a man of God, I can do some of His work. Or rather put the good word out there and try to save as many souls as possible. Why don’t you get on your knees? Lemme pray for ya.” 

A shiver ran through your spine as you knelt down on shaky knees, eyes going up to the large black cross that hung on the wall. Please, Lord, get me out of this. You prayed silently. 

Preston stood behind you, his hands coming to your shoulders as he began, “Lord, today we pray for Y/N and her excursions into the world as a young woman. Help her see through the devil’s delusions and guide her through this world. Lord, I pray that you see Y/N in everything that she is as she dedicates her whole self to you. Give her strength, amen.” 

“Amen.” When your eyes slid open, your whole body was shaking. 

“So you say you got some good judgement?” Preston asked as you stood up, “Say you walk in the light?” 

“I try to but we all have our slip ups.” You answered humbly and honestly, avoiding his eye contact. 

Preston hummed, “I seen you with that Russell boy. Y’all going steady?” Silently, you nodded in response. “There’s a lot of temptation in relationships like that.” 

It was clear what he was insinuating and it actually made you mad. What right did he have to be poking around in your romantic and sexual life? “Has he ever touched you?” 

The bluntness of his question hit you like a rock, “With all do respect, Reverend, that ain’t really none of your business.” 

He put his hands up in surrender, “I don’t mean to pry. I’m just concerned ‘bout that boy dragging you down into temptation. Sullying your position with the good Lord, ‘n all.” 

“Arvin is a perfectly respectful man. He ain’t draggin’ nothin’ or nobody down.” Your voice was getting more aggressive. 

“So he hasn’t touched you? He hasn’t seen you…” 

Your eyebrows furrowed, “Like I said, that ain’t none of your business. Thank you for your concern for my soul but what Arvin and I do is between us and the Lord. I don’t need no middle man reverend to redeem me.” 

He shrugged, “But you know, one of the best ways to get right with the Lord is to surrender yourself. Fully.” He took a few steps towards you and your breathing hitched. There was a sexual tension in the air that made your skin crawl. 

“I’ve already given my life to the Lord.” 

You weren’t giving in quite as easily as Preston had expected. Those other girls, Lenora and Jeanette Reaster, had been easily manipulated into giving Preston what he wanted. Just tell them they were unclean and needed to get right with the Lord and right into his trap they fell but you… you were different. Smart in the worldy kind of way. You were the first girl to give him a hard time but Preston would be lying if he said he didn’t like the chase. 

You were staring daggers at him, your jaw clenched, and your body standing tall and strong. It was almost as if you were trying to prove a point. You could have run, could have darted out screaming about what had happened, but you didn’t. There was no proof and Preston knew it. This was how he got away with it all. No proof, all words and small touches that were just innocent enough to be misread. It wasn’t until he got them in the backseat of his car or in the office in the back of the church that he actually touched them but by then, it was consensual. Sure, for Lenora and Jeanette there was the issue that they were minors but that was the fun of these little towns like Coal Creek, The girl always took the fall. It was always her fault. Preston could get off scotch free and he knew it. He loved it. 

Almost like something out of a movie, he reached down and gently settled one hand on your hip and the other on your cheek, pressing his lips against yours without giving you a chance to object. You yelled indignantly against lips but when he pulled away, the hand on your cheek moved to cover your mouth. Preston leaned in close to your ear and whispered, “I am an extension of the Lord’s work. Surrender yourself to me fully to surrender yourself to Him.” 

** 

Arvin watched as you walked into the church with a distrusting pang in his gut. There was just something about that reverend that didn’t sit right. It killed him to watch you leave, knowing that you were alone in there with him.

But he also knew you were a big girl. The logical part of his brain kept screaming at him that he was being irrational. The reverend was probably an okay enough guy. He’d never be number one or even number twenty on Arvin’s list of favorite people but that didn’t necessarily mean that the preacher would kill your something. Besides, Arvin really did need to run to the market. Lenora had requested some pecans for a pie she wanted to bake and his grandma  needed more milk. It would be a quick trip as town was just a short drive down the street. 

Reluctantly, Arvin backed out the driveway and sped off down the street. 

The entire time that Arvin was at the market, there was an unsettling tingle all around his body. It got harder to ignore as more time passed. The longer he left you with Teagarden, the worse he felt. 

“Just these.” Arvin threw a bag of pecans and a gallon of milk on the counter and paid for it quickly, rushing back to his car. He wouldn’t be having these feelings for no reason. Best case scenario, you were absolutely fine and Arvin was just being paranoid. Worst case scenario… Arvin couldn’t think about it because every time he thought of one, another worse one popped into his brain. 

It had only been about twenty minutes since Arvin left you alone with the preacher. Honestly, he wasn’t sure how long planning a fundraiser would take. Church activities had never been his thing but he supported you as long as it made you happy. 

He sat in the car in the church parking lot, lighting up a cigarette to calm his nerves. Arvin’s leg bounced anxiously as he watched yet another late autumn storm roll in. The clouds cast a dark gloominess, turning the minimal light left from the mostly set sun a shade of grey.. There Arvin sat for another five minutes, awaiting your exit from the building but it never came. 

Fuck it. Arvin twisted his hat on straight and threw the door open, nearly stomping out. He couldn’t put his finger on it but something was wrong. He could feel it. 

Sure enough, when he threw the door open, he was horrified. Preston Teagarden had you locked in a tight embrace, his hands running over your breasts. The two of you were standing in the middle of the aisle, right in the center of church. You had a furious look on your face, “I swear to God you touch me like that again and I’ll cut your damn dick off!” You gripped desperately at his hand that was groping you, trying to pry it away but to no avail. 

The sound of the door swinging open was enough to draw both yours and Teagarden’s attention. “Get your fuckin’ hands off her!” Arvin wasted no time running into the conflict. Teagarden dropped you and your knees buckled from the unexpected action, landing you on the ground. 

He put his hands up in surrender, “Hey, now, let’s talk about this like real men.” 

Arvin threw one solid swing to his chin, sending his head flying sideways, “You ain’t no real man. Real men don’t gotta go around gropin’ girls to get off, you sick fuck!” Another punch landed on his opposite cheek and it sent Teagarden to the ground. 

You scurried away from him and stood up just ahead of Arvin. Preston cowered, hiding his face, “Please, please, have mercy.” His pleading eyes went from Arvin to you and he lingered on your gaze, knowing that he had a better chance with the mercy approach with you. 

He found none. Even with his blood smeared face, his teeth stained crimson, and the way his body shook, you just scowled down at him, “I’m gonna tell e’ryone in this town what a disgustin’ man you are. You think you can get away with this, you’re dead wrong.” You sent a swift kick straight to his stomach, making him curl into the fetal position with a loud groan of pain. 

But then he laughed. He actually laughed. 

“What’s so damn funny?” You and Arvin both spat in unison, blood boiling. 

Preston laid his head back and closed his eyes, an almost serene look of confidence contrasting the blood that covered him and the swelling of his lip, “Ain’t nothin’ gonna happen to me. You came to visit the church after hours under the guise of helping me with a fundraiser. But then you used your womanly charms to try and seduce me, a married man of God.” 

“That ain’t what happened!” Arvin yelled angrily, fists clenched by his side. 

When the words left the preacher’s mouth though, your heart dropped. You knew the truth, Arvin knew the truth, the reverend knew the truth. But none of that mattered if the Reverend told everyone his concocted story because he was a man of God. Why would he lie? 

A sadistic smile spread across his face, “It is if I say it is. Ain’t nobody gonna believe two teenagers over a preacher.” 

“He’s right.” Your voice faltered as you spoke, nearly coming out as a shattered whisper. When Arvin looked over at you, your face had paled and you looked utterly broken. 

It wasn’t so much that the assault itself was enough to break you, though, of course, it had definitely left you with the lingering ghosts of his filthy hands on your body. It was the fact that you knew he’d get away with it, that no matter what you or Arvin said, the town would believe Teagarden. 

Arvin swallowed hard, trying to see through the blinding rage. As a boy, he never truly understood the bias that women faced when they were victims of sexual assault- how it was perceived as their faults in towns like this. It had never happened to anyone he knew so he never had much reason to think about it. Now, you were forced to live with knowing that you assailant was going to keep his position as a fucking preacher in town and that you couldn’t do anything about it. 

Arvin wouldn’t let it stand. 

He stomped forward yet again and knelt over Teagarden, sending blow after blow into his face. Bone crunched bone with a disgusting crack with every hit and you flinched every time. 

Your eyes were wide with terror. Arvin’s violent past with Gene Dinwoodie and his boys was not unknown to you. You were the first person he’d gone to after the attack, in fact, and you’d actually supported him for the most part, only wishing that maybe he didn’t send them all to the hospital and only roughed them up a bit. Actually watching him beat someone to the brink of death though was something else entirely. 

“Stop!” The word left your mouth before you even knew you’d thought it. 

Arvin stopped and looked over his shoulder at you in surprise. He was doing this for you after all. 

“Don’t kill ‘im. Please.” You begged, your voice heavy.

“What?” Arvin wasn’t actually sure what he’d intended on doing to the preacher. Sure, he wanted to kill him. That horrified, angry look in your eye as he touched you made a fire burn in him so bright, he didn’t know if it could be put out. But Arvin had never wanted to be a killer. He only wanted to prove a point and make sure that the message stuck. Now that he thought about it, though, he would have to finish the job or the preacher would tell him he’d attacked him. 

Your eyes were almost brimming with tears, though none fell. This whole evening had been too much. First the assault and now watching the love of your life throw his good conscience away for you. You wanted the preacher to pay as much as he did but this just didn’t feel right. 

“P-please… I don’t want you takin’ the fall for none o’ this. He don’t deserve to die but I think a good beatin’ will give him some time to reevaluate ‘imself.” You’d walked towards Arvin and placed a warm hand on his shoulder. 

Arvin couldn’t fathom why you’d be protecting this monster. The question was clear all over his face. Why? 

“I’m not asking you to stop for him. I’m asking you to stop for you. I don’t want you to have blood on your hands for me. Not for this.” His heart broke seeing you look the way you did, your eyes shining with tears, and your hand a little shaky. The last thing he wanted was to hurt you more. 

Arvin grabbed the preacher off the ground by the collar and pulled him up almost a foot, leaning down to get in his disfigured face, “If I ever hear that you went near Y/N or any other girl again, I will find you and kill you. If you so much as look at her again, I will kill you. And if you tell anyone what happened here tonight, I will fucking kill you. You understand? Consider it that mercy you kept beggin’ for.” 

He dropped the preacher gracelessly with a thud and wrapped an arm comfortingly around you. For a moment, he was scared that you’d flinch away. You’d never seen him when he let his anger get the best of him and he preferred to keep it that way. He didn’t want you to think that he was a violent man because he really wasn’t. Arvin just cared for a special few so much that he’d do anything for them. He’d never hurt someone he loved though and needed you to know that. 

Thankfully, you leaned into his touch, resting your head on his shoulder as he walked you back to his car, leaving the preacher an unconscious mess in the middle of the church. When you exited the building, night had fallen upon Coal Creek, casting a fitting darkness over the town. 

“Thank you.” You said simply and quietly, looking over at Arvin sincerely on the drive home. 

“For what?” 

“For everything. Just bein’ who you are.” You paused with a heavy sigh, “But promise me something?” 

Arvin looked over at you, taking his eyes off the road for just a second to show you he was listening. 

“Promise me you won’t go gettin’ yourself in trouble for me.” 

He shook his head, “He deserved-” 

“I know what he deserved,” You interrupted, “And I am so grateful that you stepped in to help. But I don’t want you gettin’ yourself thrown in jail or killed for me.” 

There was short silence before Arvin looked over with the most sincere look you think he’d ever given you, “I can’t promise that. ‘M sorry, Y/N, but if I ever see you in danger, I’m gonna do what I need to do.” 

It wasn’t the response you’d been hoping for but this boy had the ability to make you feel more loved than anyone else you knew. You only wished he understood that you only wanted what was best for him, just like he did for you. “I love you, Arvin.” You admitted, sliding across the seat to lay your head against his shoulder while he drove. 

“I love you too.” 

[taki118]

Go Watch the Venture Brothers

So just heard the complete and utter Bullshit news that Adult Swim has cancelled one of (if not the best shows) they have the Venture Bros. This series is one of those shows that for WHATEVER reason never got to the level of fandom Rick and Morty has even though they’ve been at the genre parody game longer and in my opinion better. 

The series is about Rusty Venture former boy adventurer and failing super scientist who in an attempt to keep his head above water in debt goes around with his two boys Hank and Dean, and bodyguard Brock on misadventues while various legal archnemisis go after him, such as the Monarch. 

So if you never watched or never heard of this 7 season series let me give you a break down on why you should, 

1) Art Style & Animation

Venture bros is one of those rare Adult aimed animated series that that really truly tries to utilize their medium to the best of their abilities. Season 1 had like such a small budget and corners had to be cut so it can be a little hard to watch at times. 

But with each passing season they get a little better, a little more fluid, go just a little harder and it truly feels rewarding to watch. Like seeing an artist you follow online improve over the years. Like they COULD have stayed with the choppy and stiff animation from season 1 it fit right in with its fellow adult animated shows but it didn’t. They strove for quality to have something that matched the story they were telling.

2) The Writing 

Venture Bros has some of the tightest and consistently great writing of ANY serialized show I’ve seen, adult, animated or other wise. Wanna know why? Cause it’s all done by TWO people (save for like one ep each season where one other person is allowed to touch their baby). Yeah TWO people and they work their asses off every season to interject, humor, refrences, parody, plot and character development in equal measure. 

3) Character Development

Um yes in case you were wondering that’s right an adult animated show has CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT  that holds as the series goes on. Not to give spoilers but characters will go through changes in alignment, relationships will develop and change, some characters will go through negative arcs where they are straight up unbareable for a season before coming out the other side even better than they were before. There is no end of epsiode or even end of season reset. Characters, settings, and dynamics all change over the course of the show and it feels just so god damn good.

4) Story Development 

Just like the characters the story of the Venture Bros grows and changes each season. Things that are set up even as early as season one are paid off as the series goes on. Like not to be that bitch but you know how RIck and Morty teases an overarching plot ALL THE TIME but like will often just spit in the face of fans hoping for more than like one episode a season addressing it? Yeahhhhhhh that doesnt happen here, fans are consistently rewarded for putting the time in to rewatch and really think about what happened in the series. Characters that are seen in the background or are just referenced by other characters will be brought in to be recurring characters, things that start off as a small detail or gag will be given larger relevance and each time they do this you get that “OH I remember that from last season! So thats what it was!” The writers WANT you to rewatch, they WANT you to analyze and they WANT you to theorize, and they give you a show that gives back the time you put in.

5) Parody & Reference 

This series does a great thing with parody. They make real characters  who are just as enjoyable as the characters they parody, they make story lines that both poke fun at the absurdity of the media but shows the writers love for it. So often parody and references are just used to mock the thing but with Venture Bros you feel the love and care so when you know the thing being parodied you can laugh but feel good about laughing cause they are never laughing at a thing maybe you cared for in your youth but rather laughing with it.

And it’s never just one thing. When they parody a thing its often layered with other things to make it even more unique. Scooby-Doo is overlayed with famous criminals, Laura Croft is mixed Dr. Quinn Medicine Woman, GI Joe is given the look of the Village People and so on. They never go for the easy joke or reference. Hell theres an episode that starts with them reciting the lyrics to David Bowies Space Oddity for really no reason other than they could. They weave these things in naturally with their setting and characters so nothing feels out of place. Like if you dont catch a reference or parody you dont feel like “I think this isa reference to something?” like a LOT of things do not just adult animated shows. You arent taken out of the moment cause it all feels so natural. 

6) The Characters 

God damn these characters, I could go on for hours about these characters. From main to one off these are some of the most likeable characters you can find. I mean it when I say I can’t think of a single character I wish they had cut cause they are all so well created. Even the ones I hate i have fun hating cause they were made to be that way. I’ll be good though I’ll only talk about my absolute top faves.

- The Monarchs

You ever sit and wish villain couples could have functional  healthy relationships? Well look no further than Malcom Fitzcarraldo aka The Monarch and Dr. Shelia Girlfriend (yes that is her last name). The Monarch is a high strung impulsive saturday morning cartoon villain whos tendency to over react is only matched by his unspecified hatred of Dr. Venture. And Dr. G is his nonsense partner in crime who will cut a bitch if they don’t play by their admittedly weird rules. Both characters are great on their own but are better together. Though that doesnt mean they always get along. Like a real couple they have their ups and downs they fight, break up, make-up and grow stronger in their relationship with each season. 

- Shore Leave

Ok ok so I want you to imagine James Bond, mixed with GI Joe simmering in a cocktail of the most flamboyant gay men you have ever seen and you have one of my favorite gay characters/characters in general. Shore Leave is a member of OSI (the shows SHEILD/GI Joe parody organization) he’s loud, brash, flippant, sassy and highly competent at his job loving every second of getting to beat bad guys down within an inch of their life. I love seeing him play off the stoic Brock and the two have this great brotherly dynamic that’s never called into question. He also gets to have a very cute romance with Al the Alchemist (who is also great). I could talk about this man all day.

- Dr. Rusty Venture

They did such a good job with this man. He’s a self serving, sexist, perverted, whinny, self important asshole and yet you feel pity and genuine sympathy for him and want him to succeed. You can see how Dr. V was given a raw deal by his father who seemed to care more about his adventures than his sons well being and how this molded him into the bitter man he is today, but on the flip side you can see where he chose to use that as a crutch for his worst behaviors and impulses. Seeing him slowly grow and change and be an actual good father to his boys while all the while still be a giant dick is actually really great. 

- Dr. Byron Orpheus 

Ahhhhh Dr. Orpheus part Dr. Strange Parody part busybody stay at home dad, he’s just such a delight. Dr. Orpheus is a divorcee, with an unfulfilling job of maintaining order to the cosmos (which isnt as hard as one might think), and uses his magical ablities in ways most of us would (ie menial tasks and home chores). Overly dramatic and affectionate Dr. O is a delight whenever he appears, but he’s at his best around his daughter and old friends The Order of the Triad. 

Again I can go on but all these characters ranging from main to recurring are crafted with the utmost care for you to want to see them succeed or fail, to see them again even if you know it’ll never happen, and want them to cross paths with other characters. 

The Venture Bros is one of those series that I will ALWAYS recommend even to the pickiest of humor tastes. But if you don’t believe its as good as I said or don’t think the concept is to your tastes I’ll recommend a few eps that I think best show off the base idea of the series without giving much away. In terms of plot and spoilers, though somethings wont make a lot of sense. 

- S1 ep10 "Tag Sale – You're It!" - Dr. V is having a yard sale so of course all manner of costumed weirdos show up.  - S2 ep5 "Twenty Years to Midnight" - basically a fetch quest around the world to save the planet with daddy issues - S3 ep2 "The Doctor Is Sin" - Again daddy issues but with one of the best recurring characters and a great showcase of the series deeper emotional plots - S4 ep6 "Self-Medication" - Really embraces the parody as Rusty goes to a former boy adventurer support group.  Anyway the show is 7 seasons with 80 episodes, please go watch it. I will never forgive @adultswim​ for cancelling what was to be their final season. And in closing GO TEAM VENTURE!

[sage-nebula]

The past three years were eventful for Misaki Shiki, and not just because she ran her own fashion brand. They were eventful, but they were not easy. Of course they weren’t.

Working on Gatto Nero helped. Shiki and Eri started working on it as soon as Shiki returned from the UG, meaning that they were working on it before Coco murdered Neku and he was trapped in the UG once again. Building a fashion brand is incredibly difficult, especially since Shiki and Eri were still in high school for half of the past three years, and that means that a lot of Shiki’s time, energy, and attention was taken up by her business. This doesn’t mean that she didn’t care about Neku, of course; quite the opposite. She was frantic when she found out what happened to him, that her foreboding feeling had turned out to be right after all, and she was only able to choke down her hysterics when Rhyme reminded both her and Beat that Neku’s death wouldn’t be permanent. Neku would get to play the Game again, whatever Kitaniji had said before, and he would win and come back. That was certain. There was no way he wouldn’t win; all they had to do was wait for and believe in him, and Shiki could do that.

The thing is, the rest of the RG didn’t know that. Neku’s relationship with his parents was . . . complicated, to say the least, but they were still informed of his murder and still had to plan the funeral. Shiki, Beat, and Rhyme all attended; Neku was their best friend, after all, and they’d been around his house enough times for his parents to at least recognize Shiki and Beat in passing, and it would have been strange to everyone (Eri, their own parents) had they refused to attend. How were they supposed to explain that they didn’t want to attend his funeral because they knew he wasn’t really dead? That although it had already been two weeks, they were sure he was coming back? There was no way to explain it, so they didn’t even try. They just attended his funeral, and reminded themselves over and over again that it wasn’t real, that it wouldn’t stick, that Neku would come back.

(At one point during the service, Shiki caught a flash of light out of the corner of her eye that she could have sworn was Joshua. But when she turned to look properly, he was gone.)

In the weeks following his death, Shiki waited by Hachiko whenever she could—which wasn’t often, given how much work she and Eri had to do with Gatto Nero, although Eri wordlessly took up the bulk of the work, figuring that Shiki needed time to grieve. Which was . . . not exactly wrong, but not exactly right, either. Shiki wasn’t grieving, because Neku wasn’t really dead. Not dead forever, at least. He would be back, she knew he would. He just needed more time.

Weeks turned to months. Months turned to a year. A year turned into a year and three months.

It was around this time that Eri started cheerfully suggesting double-dates for the two of them. At first, Shiki politely declined without thinking too much of it; Eri was an extrovert whose life motto was “the more the merrier” and so it wasn’t surprising at all that she’d want company for her dates with Mina. But the third time Shiki declined Eri’s offer to go out on a double-date, Eri frowned and said, “Shiki . . . come on.”

“What?”

“It’s almost been a year and a half. Don’t you think it’s time?”

“Time . . . for what?”

“To . . . you know.” Eri waved her hand in a circular motion in the air. “Move on. Or try to, at least. With someone new.”

Oh.

“I’m fine,” Shiki said, and though she thought her voice was happy enough, it sounded brittle in her ears. Strange, too, like the words were gibberish instead of actual words. I’m fine, I’m fine. “I’m happy enough.”

“You shouldn’t have to settle for ‘happy enough.’ You should be happy! Really, truly happy.” Eri took Shiki’s hands in her own. “Just come out with us. Get to know Takeshi. We’re going for karaoke—it’ll be fun! You don’t have to do anything you’re not ready to, but . . .” Eri smiled ruefully. “You can’t date a ghost, either. I think it’s time to let him go.”

It wasn’t, and it never would be, because Neku wasn’t a ghost, not really. He was just in the UG, which was a separate plane of existence, and he wouldn’t be there forever. Shiki knew that, but knew just as well she couldn’t explain it to Eri without Eri recommending she check herself into a psychiatric hospital. So with a rueful smile of her own, Shiki nodded and accepted Eri’s invitation. She would go on the double-date—just one. Just enough to satisfy Eri.

But one double-date wasn’t enough to satisfy her. Eri accepted that Takeshi and Shiki didn’t vibe, but if there was one thing that could be said about her, it was that Eri was never one to rest when she felt one of her friends needed help. To Shiki, it felt like Eri was pulling potential suitors out of the woodwork; every time she turned around Eri had another blind date to send Shiki on, sometimes as doubles and sometimes just on her own. Shiki went along with them, to placate Eri—but eventually, Eri caught onto that, too.

“Why don’t you just try? You don’t have to try for me, but for yourself?”

“I’m—!” Shiki took a deep, calming breath. “I am trying, Eri. It’s just not working.”

“You’re not trying, I can tell. Your heart isn’t in it. Just attending the dates isn’t enough; you have to unlock your heart if you ever want to let someone in.”

Shiki pursed her lips, to stop herself from saying that maybe she didn’t want to let someone in—that maybe she was fine staying single, fine with waiting for Neku to get back. But this time, it wasn’t just the fact that she couldn’t share this information with Eri that held her back, but the knowledge that it would make her a hypocrite. Wasn’t she the one who had told Neku to give her a chance, to let her in? To open up and let her know what he was thinking? And that had been for far higher stakes than a simple date.

Shiki sighed, and nodded in acceptance. “Okay. I’ll try a little harder.”

Eri beamed. “That’s my girl.”

That night, Shiki texted the last person she’d been out with, a guy named Keisuke, and asked him if he’d like to go out again later in the week. To her mild surprise, he replied quickly and enthusiastically that he would. The date set, Shiki lingered for only a moment more before she gathered her things and went to sit by Hachiko for a while, watching the crowds pass by without really seeing any of the people at all.

She promised Eri that she would try, so she did. She listened when Keisuke told stories about himself and his friends and, to his credit, some of them were kind of funny. He was nice. He was polite to just about everyone they encountered and had real interest in Gatto Nero, even though the only way Shiki and Eri had made any sales so far was through their online store (which was less a store and more a page they made on a site that let indie creators sell all sorts of things). It wasn’t bad spending time with him. Shiki didn’t mind it. And Eri was really happy when she learned there was a third date on the horizon, so that was a bonus, too.

Two dates turned to three, three dates turned to four, and before Shiki knew it she was graduating high school and in a steady relationship with Keisuke.

It had been a little over two years since Neku had been killed, and so much had changed but it still didn’t feel real. Of course, it couldn’t, because it wasn’t. His death wasn’t real, or at least wasn’t permanent. But it had been two years, and she and Eri were now able to do once-a-month popup stores near Tower Records to sell Gatto Nero merchandise in addition to their online store, and she and Keisuke had been dating for six months. Truth be told, her relationship with Keisuke felt the least real out of any of it. They went on dates regularly, and he texted and called her regularly, but she still felt a little flash of surprise when people referred to him as her boyfriend and didn’t notice very much when time lapsed between when they were able to see each other, though he always seemed to. It wasn’t that she didn’t like him. She did, even though Beat and Rhyme didn’t (though only Beat would say as much out loud; Rhyme only smiled and said, “If you’re happy, I’m happy,” and Shiki could never bring herself to respond if she was happy or not). But it was just that being with him was . . . he wasn’t . . .

He was fine. Being with him was fine. It was fine. She was fine. But sometimes . . .

Sometimes, it was the little things.

He was nice. Keisuke was nice. But he had a habit of making little comments. They weren’t mean—he was never mean. But a few months into their relationship he started making little comments that, while Shiki never thought much of them in the moment . . .

“You keep your hair so short. I bet it would be pretty if it was longer.”

“Why do you always wear such baggy clothes? Form-fitting clothes look better, don’t you think?”

“You should wear makeup, you’d like nice with it.”

“You always carry the same bag. You must like that one, huh?”

“Wow, you sure do eat a lot!”

“Your glasses are so big, it’s like they take up half your face.”

“You’re like the only girl I know who never does anything with her nails.”

Nothing Keisuke said was mean. Shiki never felt as though he was being mean, even when the moment had passed and she reflected on what he said later. But his comments . . . his little comments . . . they weren’t one-offs, not really. And it must have been important to him, for him to mention things like her hair or her nails or her clothes more than once. She supposed, if she was going to date him (and she had been dating him for months already), that she should take what he said into consideration, if for nothing else so that he wouldn’t feel the need to comment as much anymore. So she started growing her hair out, and smiled when he noticed and pointed it out and beamed at her for it. She switched up her wardrobe to clothes that were less comfy, but that hugged her body more. She had Eri give her lessons on how to correctly apply makeup. She ordered prescription contacts and made sure to take a different bag with her at least once a week, if not a little more often than that. And she started paying more attention to her diet, too, because it was important to eat healthy, after all.

All of these changes were good ones—positive ones. Keisuke certainly seemed to like them, and while Eri was surprised when Shiki asked for things like makeup lessons or to borrow clothes from her closet, she didn’t mind, either. The only ones who seemed to were Beat and Rhyme; Beat openly derided the idea that Shiki was making changes for Keisuke (“It’s not for him, Beat, I’m just . . . making changes”), while Rhyme gave her strange looks when she thought Shiki wouldn’t notice. Shiki tried not to let it bother her. She was too busy to dwell, what with a deal being in the works for a Gatto Nero store in 104, dates with Keisuke, and time spent at Hachiko whenever she stole a moment away.

Of all the things he found bizarre about her, Shiki’s time at Hachiko seemed to be what stuck in Keisuke’s craw the most. Whenever she told him she was there (usually sketching out new pin or clothing ideas nowadays) he could never let it go. It was a tourist spot, he said. It was weird for her to be there if she wasn’t meeting anyone there, he said. If she had time to be there why wouldn’t she come over to his place, he said. Shiki dismissed his comments by changing the subject or, if he was really reluctant to let it go, with a kiss. It was enough to placate him until the next time, which Shiki felt was a good enough compromise. It was one thing she refused to give up.

And then he saw her phone.

Nine months into their relationship (two years and three months after Neku’s death), she returned from a trip to the bathroom to find Keisuke staring at her phone, which she had left on the sofa behind her. When his eyes met hers, they were blazing.

“Who is this?” he demanded, and flipped her phone in his hand so that her phone’s wallpaper—a selfie she had taken with Neku at Hachiko, weeks before his murder—stared back at her.

“I . . .” Shiki’s voice was lodged in her throat. “It’s me. And a friend. How did you unlock my phone?”

“Why does that matter? A friend?” Keisuke got up from the couch, his phone still in her hand as he stalked toward her. “Who is he? Why haven’t I seen him? And why is he your wallpaper, if he’s just a friend?”

“I . . . that picture’s been my wallpaper for years, I . . .” Shiki shook her head, and took her phone as he angrily thrust it back at her. “I never thought to change it.”

“Never? We’ve been dating for almost a year, and you have some other guy’s pic as your wallpaper—”

“Keisuke—”

“Is he who you’re hanging out with at Hachiko every other day? Is he—”

“He’s dead!” Shiki’s voice splintered on that single word, hot tears she hadn’t planned on burning in her eyes. It was the first time she’d said as much out loud; every other time she’d nodded in placating agreement with Eri’s insistence that Neku was a ghost, or her parents soothingly telling her that they knew that a friend’s death was hard but that they knew she’d make it through. She knew it wasn’t true, not really, and so she’d never bothered to dignify it by saying it out loud. But here, now, as her—as Keisuke accused her of cheating— “He . . . died—he died two years ago. He was murdered.”

“. . . Oh.” The silence was tense. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

Shiki shrugged, and sniffed as she swiped her tears off her cheeks—gently, with a finger, lest she smudge the mascara she’d painstakingly applied before going to his apartment that night.

Another moment passed before Keisuke crossed the last few paces and put his arm around her shoulders, and placed a kiss in her hair. “I didn’t know he was dead. I wouldn’t have yelled if I had. I’m sorry.”

Shiki swallowed. He’s not . . . “It’s okay.”

“But . . . hey. He’s gone, right? Has been for a while now.” Keisuke’s voice was light, and when Shiki looked up at him, she saw that he was smiling. “Why don’t we choose a new wallpaper for your phone? Maybe one of the two of us. That will help get your mind away from your sadness, too.”

Keisuke wasn’t mean. He wasn’t trying to be hurtful. And she couldn’t fault him for his logic. What was it Eri had said a little over half a year ago? That it was time to move on? To try?

Shiki squeezed down a sob as she nodded, and scrolled through her photos to find a selfie she had taken with Keisuke upon his request a few weeks prior. She set it as her wallpaper, and forced a smile as he kissed her cheek.

Shiki left his apartment not too long after, and returned to the one she rented with Eri. Eri wasn’t home when Shiki arrived, but that wasn’t surprising; it was a Saturday, and Eri tended to stay out late on weekends. Shiki slipped her shoes off by the door, hung her bag on the coatrack, and went to the kitchen to pour herself a cup of water. She took one sip before she found she wasn’t thirsty; she abandoned it on the counter and went to her room to turn in for the night instead.

She didn’t make it very far. She and Eri kept a mirror in the hallway, just outside the living room, for a quick check to make sure they were ready to leave before they did. Usually, Shiki didn’t pay the mirror too much mind unless she had specifically decided to check it. But as she made her way to her room the mirror caught her eye—or rather, the reflection inside the mirror did, and her heart stopped.

For a split second, she didn’t recognize who she saw.

For a split second, it was if she had forgotten that what they had hung on the wall was a mirror and not a window. The girl who stared back had wide eyes unobscured by glasses, but rimmed with dark, smokey makeup. Her dark hair was just past her shoulders and lightened on the ends. Her lips were painted to make them look fuller, foundation and concealer both caked on her cheeks to hide blemishes, with artificial blush added on top. Her clothes were tight, hard to move in. Her feet hurt from the heels she’d worn. A girl was staring back at her from the other side of the looking glass—a girl who was not who she was, but rather who she had become.

Her reflection’s painted lip trembled, and this time Shiki couldn’t restrain the sob that burst unbidden from her chest.

She tore into her room, ripping her clothes off with enough ferocity she was at risk of tearing the seams. She threw them not in her hamper, but on the floor, and ripped every similar article of clothing—every tight miniskirt, every suffocating tube top—out of her closet so it could join them. She changed into the baggiest, ugliest pajamas she could find, and then charged into the bathroom to scrub her face with makeup remover. She scrubbed hard enough to burn, to tear her skin a little as she ripped off her false eyelashes and tossed them in the trash, her contacts following soon after. She stared at her now blurry reflection in the bathroom mirror, and ran her fingers through her long hair. Her hair. Her hair. That was the next thing. It had to go.

Eri came home in time to find Shiki surrounded by a haphazard pile of her own hair on the kitchen floor, for after retrieving the scissors she hadn’t had it in her to make it back to the bathroom before starting her hack job. (Not that it would have mattered; it wasn’t as if she could see without her glasses, and she was too upset to remember where she’d stashed them.) To say that Eri was alarmed was an understatement; she pulled the scissors from Shiki’s trembling hands and asked, over and over, what had happened, what was going on, was she okay, no she wasn’t okay, but what happened, what was wrong?

“E-Everything,” Shiki gasped, gripping Eri’s shoulders for dear life, fighting to get the words out around her tears. “It’s—it’s not fine.”

That night, Eri held her while she cried. Held her until she fell halfway asleep, and then helped tuck her into bed. Eri was waiting in the kitchen the next morning when Shiki woke, breakfast already made, warm tea prepared just the way Shiki liked it. Eri patted the seat at the table beside her and said, “I’m here to listen if you’re ready to talk.”

Fortunately, an emotional breakdown and a long rest after a strong cry was enough to help Shiki sort through her thoughts, and feelings. She told Eri . . . not everything, but most of it. She told her how she’d lost herself—how she had, without meaning to, changed herself to meet the expectations that Keisuke and she felt the world at large had for her, as one of the lead designers for an up and coming fashion brand.

“That’s why? I thought . . . I thought you just wanted to try something new . . .”

“I thought that, too. But I was just . . . lying to myself, I guess.” Shiki smiled ruefully at her mug of tea. “I should have listened to Beat. He knew. Rhyme too, but she never said so out loud.”

“I always liked your clothes. You looked so cute and comfy.” Eri squeezed her mug more tightly. “You never had to change . . . I never wanted—!”

“I know, Eri.” Shiki placed her hand over Eri’s, and smiled despite Eri’s watery eyes. “I know.”

Shiki wasn’t okay with how things were. She wasn’t okay with how she’d lost herself, how she’d broken her promise to never go back to the old Shiki who always tried to meet others expectations of who she should be, rather than staying true to who she actually was. She wasn’t okay with her relationship, with tying herself to someone she didn’t truly love, who brought out the worst in her whether he meant to or not. She wasn’t okay with Neku, either—with the whole situation surrounding him. She wasn’t okay forcing herself to try to move on and let go, but she also wasn’t okay pretending that she was just fine waiting indefinitely without having even a clue as to how he was faring in the UG.

Shiki wasn’t okay. But she knew what she had to do to get there.

First, she called Keisuke and had him meet her at Hachiko Café—a public place, in hopes he wouldn’t make a scene. She told him, firmly but politely, that she wanted to end their relationship.

“What? I don’t understand—why?”

“I’m not happy. And I don’t think we’re right for each other. I . . .” She reached up to cut her short, unevenly cut hair. She would need to get it fixed sometime soon, but this had to be done first. “I changed myself for you, a lot. And—”

“You looked good. Your hair was so pretty. Why did you do this to it? Where is all this coming from?”

“I wanted to. This is who I really am. And I know that you preferred me the other way, but . . . that’s not who I was. And I think it would be better for you to find someone who can be that person, just like it’s better for me to find someone who likes me as I am.”

“Like that guy on your wallpaper?”

“Like . . .” Shiki smiled a little as she stared down at the table between them. “Yeah, I guess so. Like him.”

“I thought he was dead.”

“He—” isn’t “—is.”

“Then why—why are you comparing me to him? That’s not fair.”

“I know it’s not. That’s why I’m ending things.” Shiki stood up from the table, and pulled her old bag over her shoulders. “I’m sorry, but this is for the best. Goodbye.”

She kept her eyes forward, and left him sputtering protests behind her.

After leaving Keisuke behind at the café, she blocked his number on his phone and changed her wallpaper—not to the selfie with her and Neku, but instead to a picture of her and Eri outside a Gatto Nero popup. It wasn’t that she was giving up on Neku. She wasn’t—she never would. But . . . she needed time, and besides, that picture was outdated. She would get a new one whenever he was able to come back.

In the following days, she made several appointments. One was with a stylist, who fixed her shaky, messy hack job into a cuter pixie cut that would, with time, grow back into a bob Shiki would be more comfortable with. The next was with a therapist, recommended to Shiki by her primary care doctor, whom she would see once a week. Of course, she was limited in what she could tell her therapist as well; it wasn’t as if her therapist would understand about the Reapers’ Game and the UG. But her therapist did understand about unhealthy relationships, about difficulties with self-esteem, about the stressors of launching a fashion brand, about how painful grief was and how difficult it was to balance it with everything else. And in that, her therapist helped.

Three months after Shiki started therapy (two years and six months since Neku’s death), the 104 deal went through and she and Eri cut the ribbon on their brand new, brick and mortar storefront. Three months after that (two years and nine months since Neku’s death), Shiki was able to cut her therapy meetings down to once every two weeks, and her hair had grown out again, enough so that she could get a nice little trim to keep it neat. Two months after that (two years and eleven months since Neku’s death), Eri approached her with a month-long business trip to South Korea to market their brand.

“A month?” Shiki frowned as she looked over the itinerary that Eri handed her. “I don’t know . . .”

“I know it’s a long time, but I think it might be good for you to get away for a little while. You’ve been doing so much better!” Eri added quickly, as Shiki frowned at her. “But, you know . . . a change of scenery might still be nice. And you can still talk to your therapist over video chat, right?”

Eri was right, of course. And she was also, Shiki was sure, all too aware of how Shiki still visited Hachiko whenever she could, and how just a few weeks prior she’d re-sewn a coat she’d made a year ago for a so-called ghost, to move it up a size, just in case.

So Shiki nodded. “Okay. I’ll go.”

Eri beamed, and gave her a tight hug.

One month after that (three years since Neku’s death), Shiki had just stepped off the bus that had retrieved her from Narita Airport when her phone buzzed in her pocket. She fished it out, and smiled when she saw Rhyme’s contact photo beaming up at her.

“Hello?”

“Shiki! Are you back in Japan?”

“Yeah, I’m back.”

“I’m happy to hear it. Things have been a bit hectic here since you left.” A pause. “Do you have some time to talk about it?”

It had been three years since Neku’s death. Things were always hectic in Shibuya, and there was no reason for Shiki to believe that what Rhyme had to talk about was anything related to Neku or the UG. After all, she would have said as much immediately, wouldn’t she?

But—

“Mmhm. When can we meet? Are you free now?”

Rhyme laughed. “I am, but I think I can hear the sounds of the bus station behind you. I think you need some time to at least get your suitcase home before we talk. Call me in about an hour? Or whenever you’re ready, I can wait. Patience is a virtue, after all.”

Shiki smiled. “All right. Got it. Talk to you then.”

“See you later!”

Rhyme ended the call before Shiki could, and Shiki took a deep breath after she slipped her phone back into her pocket. An hour or two. Just long enough to get her suitcase home, a shower and a fresh change of clothes, and then she could meet with Rhyme to discuss what had been happening in Shibuya—why the air felt oddly still as Shiki made her way through the West Exit Bus Terminal, toward the Scramble Crossing.

It had been three years since Neku died, and there was no shock of orange hair near Hachiko when Shiki passed it. Despite everything else that had changed, Hachiko’s plaza being devoid of her partner hadn’t. But . . .

Shiki looked up at the sky as she waited at the crosswalk, and watched as a bird swayed jerkily through the air, as though having trouble flying.

She had a feeling that, too, finally had a strong possibility of changing soon.

[the-brohood-of-hotties]

Forget me not

Fandom: Katekyo Hitman REBORN! Pairing: Hibari x Reader   Wordcount:  2,210

Summary: Hibari is a weird man, famous for his rather aggressive aura. After he moves into your neighborhood, an oasis inside a big neon town, Hibari Kyouya brings with him the weirdest situations into your life, as he makes a startling entrance with an accident with his "co-worker", Yamamoto Takeshi.

This is an entry for #khrevents April Angst 2021/ Day 8/ Yearning, Longing/ Reincarnation AU/ "I don't want to forget you."

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30658199

The glass door from your coffee shop and gardening club swings open, you don’t really care to see who’s there because it’s almost the end of your shift and you’re really entertained with social media, though you did greet the person entering. “ Good evening. Welcome to the Daily Lily.”

“Good evening, I’m afraid we’ll have to check out your storage.”

“Are you the police?”

“...No.”  The voice seemed hesitant, you notice.

“Then I can’t help with that, we have a promotion on cheesecake today though.”  You smile and finally look up, afraid it might be a man trying to mess up with you. Well, it was two men, in fact. You’ve heard the rumors around the neighborhood, that Hibari Kyouya was a man with a weird aura that just moved in alone with some exotic pets, while he seemed delicate and handsome, he just had this introverted, aggressive aura and you’d never expect him to show up in your small business as the companion of another guy. Tall, tan skin, dark hair, buff, a scar on his chin in contrast with a bright gentle smile. He seemed to carry a baseball bat in his back, which made the combination of sports and their suits really off, they both seem to be either Japanese or Korean.

While Hibari, the  grumpy one, seemed to not be so happy about being with the other guy. Like a puppy and an old cat. "We don’t wanna bother you, but-..." The baseball guy was cut off by a loud noise coming from the back of the store. Normally you would be worried that your co-worker got hurt or something, but today? You’ve been alone for the second half of your shift. It’s not supposed to be noisy there, you’re frozen in the spot.

Hibari immediately bursts into the staff-only area of your shop, and before you can protest, the other guy gently grabs your shoulder. “Everything will be fine, we’ll take care of this situation. I just need you to hide in the restroom.’’

“Excuse me?!” No time for excuses, you heard someone grunting and the loud noises start getting too repetitive. Your phone was given in your hands and you basically got pushed into the room by the taller guy. “Sorry, huuh I really need to go there… ” He said as the door slammed on your face. The restroom was cozy enough, you had it decorated as you wanted, and you were firmly holding your phone in case you needed to call someone...But then, who would you be calling? The police would probably make things worse, especially because they seemed to be armed, or worse, maybe these guys are the police in disguise. You fidget your fingers along the cold black surface as a way to calm down a little, it seemed pointless. The noise was too loud to just put on earbuds and ignore them, but you realize: And if this is all a scheme? Rushing to peek at the door, as your eyes meet the pastel walls of the store, you realize it seems like no one’s here at all. Until you hear the cranky storage door opening, and as soon as you see the Baseball guy again, you close the door. Don’t want him thinking you’ve been spying on whatever happened in the storage, with your heart racing, you hear a gentle knock on the wooden door, accompanied by his voice. “Everything is fine! You can come out. I’m sorry I didn’t say my name before, I’m Yamamoto Takeshi and my company here is Hibari Kyouya.”

Decide to close the shop soon as you could for the day,  you come out of the restroom, greeted by the two men.

“I am not your partner, Yamamoto Takeshi.”  He mutters, Hibari looks completely clean, you could still mistake him with a businessman. While Takeshi seems to have bruised his hand a little. You offer him your first-aid kit which he accepts, then you close the curtains so there’s no curiosity about that’s going on inside. “So, what happened in my storage?”  You cross your arms, with a cotton stained with blood between your fingers, slightly annoyed by the whole situation. Making mental notes of what to tell your therapist later, then going back to cleaning the dry blood on Yamamoto's calloused hand.

“Two burglars, they were armed but easy to deal with.” Hibari finally says something directed to you, maybe it’s the first time he bothered to look in your eyes. Not that you’re annoyed by that, perhaps he’s just introverted. But at the same time, now that he looked at your face, it's like something inside him got frozen, awkward. It's such a weird feeling, especially since he doesn't really show it off, you just can tell. “Are you guys police officers?”  You change the subject, brushing it off your mind, Hibari looks away, you can’t tell if he’s offended by being compared to a cop or something else. “Not at all! We just know how to handle them. We’ll send you a check to compensate for the damage and the working time you spent in the restroom as well.” Yamamoto finished his bandage and happily hands you paper and pen. “Just write down your shop’s address and info and the check will arrive in 3 to 5 days.”

You couldn’t really believe in such kindness, or at least knowing how to deal with the consequences of their vigilante work but since they already know the shop you write it down anyway. “ Are you all putting me in some pyramid scheme? You two seem like stage actors.”  They do look like handsome actors, you think.

“We aren’t.” Hibari actually pulls out an unused bullet from his pocket to show  they’re not lying, effective but scary. He just turns away and keeps browsing the plants you got for sale, examining the quality of an English Ivy’s vine. “Don’t scare them, c’mon. Isn’t this shop your neighbor now?”  Yamamoto jokes around, Hibari sends him a deadly look and you decide you won’t touch the neighbor subject ever again.

“If you two excuse me, I have to close the shop and go home. It’s getting late and I don't plan to work more today.” You operate the register and turn off your computer for the day, swinging the keys in your index finger. Anxious to get home to your cat and a nice hot bath to relax. “Thank you again for your kindness, next time you visit the shop anything from the coffee and plants is on me. But don't do crazy stuff again.” You smile as everyone leaves the inside area with you. “By the way, who’s going to take these two burglars out? Did you guys called the police?”

“Kusakabe already took them, before you got out of the restroom.” Hibari says in a beat, interrupting Yamamoto before he could say something else. “Who’s that?”  You raise an eyebrow, the Baseball guy blurts out, dismissing any curiosity you might have. “He’s a friend of ours who’s actually a cop!” That’s weird, you didn’t even see a vehicle, and usually, when cops stopped around they were always noisy and had the blue and red lights on. Off-duty cops, detectives, spies, what are these people doing around? Your curiosity around these two can only grow. It’s not like your hometown has anything important in the first place. Anyway, you say your goodbyes and already invited them to come once more. Perhaps it will be good to have these two around, at least against burglars.

Hibari turns to Yamamoto as soon as you disappeared in a street corner, with earbuds on, bursting your playlist for a nice walk and everything “That’s why we shouldn’t operate with any civilians nearby, we might be compromised now.”.

“It wasn’t that bad, I think they got to sympathize with us, it’ll be just a weird day on their life.”  Takeshi stretches his arms, it’s quite complicated to deal with you and Hibari all at once. “But, still if we didn’t interfere these guys might take them hostage, steal the shop, or whatever their intentions were. We’re lucky you saw they had guns when passing by the street.”

“I am sure Kusakabe will find out their true intentions, but meanwhile we cannot afford to bring attention to us. No more.” Hibari walked down the street, ready to get to his new apartment. “And, Yamamoto.”

“What?”

“If you get back here in the shop, don’t do anything weak and stupid.” A threat, how much that suits him, it must be a serious matter, no wonder the Foundation decided to settle in that small town for a while. Once Hibari got home, greeted by Hibird’s singing, he lets out a long sigh. What happened today? Two Mafia men going out for a civilian’s small business as if it’s a serious matter for them. But especially, the Cloud Guardian feels like he just knows you from somewhere. Your voice and eyes seem oddly familiar, but if he was to put this feeling into words it’ would simply smell like bullshit. Herbivore bullshit. He takes a long shower, and gets to bed to read something before sleeping, but can’t concentrate on his book. It can’t be, he even loses sleep and feels exhausted, only falling asleep when his body couldn’t take it anymore.

He wakes up in a bad mood, feeds Hibird and Roll, and opens his fridge: nothing, just a bottle of water. Well, he has to remind Kusakabe to do his groceries, but for now, he’ll be ok with going to your shop for breakfast. He gets changed from his kimono to casual clothing, it’s 07:00 AM when he walks down the block and notices no one’s inside the shop beside you, as he opened the door a ring is heard, you turn your head to see who’s there, the shop seems clean and decorated with paper and fairy lights hanging on the wall, plus with the plants of all sorts, making the place lively, with soft lo-fi music in the background. “Hey, good morning Sir.” He murmurs a response and orders blueberry pancakes with a black coffee on the balcony. “Thanks for coming after yesterday, I came here earlier to clean but your partner Kusakabe was waiting at the door to help me out.”

“Good.”  As you manage the register, he notices you have cupcakes with colorful glaze and cutesy decor right beside you, and a poster that he can’t read from that distance. You see he’s staring at something and offers him one of the cupcakes. “Today I’m throwing a small event here, the shop will celebrate 2 years of business, come by if you want to.”

“I’m not letting you give me everything in the shop for free.”  He rejects and suits himself a table nearby the window. “I don’t like parties, or crowded places so I’ll stop by tomorrow.” This hurts your ego a little bit, but it would probably be embarrasing to have a stranger around, he’s quiet most of the time. You wonder if Yamamoto is more of a party person, then, your thoughts drift to the question: Is Yamamoto Takeshi single? He doesn’t have a wedding ring, and neither does Hibari. 

 You shake your head before you could turn red in front of him. “Well, I’ll save you a piece of cake my parents made then.”  You say, as you get  prepared to do everything for today’s menu ready.

“You don’t have to.”  Ouch. You decide to not offer him more things, but this behaviour makes you wonder if he has a jealous partner.

Usually you let everything sort-of-ready so you just need to heat them in the oven on the back of the balcony. Cooking is time-consuming, but at least it’s pretty lucrative. “I think I’ll take around 30 minutes since you’re an early bird. You can use a laptop to work or shop for flowers if you like stuff like gardening.”  You turn your head to talk to him, but to your surprise, he’s already looking at some pots and examining some other gardening products you have around, you didn't expect him to be this kind of person, gardening takes nurturing, care, and a lot of attention towards a living being who doesn't even communicate like animals. He does like gardening apparently, you expected him to pull off a MacBook and have an online meeting over his meal or something, maybe doing finances of whatever organization he's probably the leader at, at least that's what his expensive suit tells. When you get to serve his plate, the spare chair has a basket full of gardening materials, seeds for fruits and veggies, some pots, a small rake, and a trowel.

As the clients come in and you get busier, he didn’t want to be a burden, so he just sat there and tried to enjoy his breakfast, even though the place was a little more crowded than he would like to. But still, Hibari can manage that for a bit, and then he realizes how the situation just got weirder to him, how come he’s doing that for you? And why did you felt so familiar? Spending most of his life there, just occasionally traveling he never noticed a person that matched that specific scene in his head. Is this some Herbivore bullshit? Maybe. Hibari is still pondering over this subject but as long as no one from the Foundation or Vongola finds out, he just found out a place with good pancakes, open from Monday to Saturday, how convenient. The whole saved your business and life thing or the fact that you’re attractive is just a small detail.  When he’s done, Hibari gets up from his table and your co-worker comes to clean his spot. He takes his basket to the balcony for payment, but not before adding a purple flower to his shop list. When he gets to pass all the products, which usually the clients would take one or two plants, but he got around seven, letting the purple flower for last.

A small vase blooming with forget-me-nots, as you pass it on the register, you read the silly little tag you put in some pots as decoration, each has a quirky phrase or pun with the names, that one reads:

“Don’t forget about me”.

[imkylotrash]

Meet Me In The Hallway (4)

Pairing: Sky x reader

Summary: Sky takes Stella out for a date but it goes horribly wrong so he comes to your room afterwards wanting to prove he’s not ready to give you up despite Stella letting part of your secret slip but she hasn’t revealed the worst part yet keeping you in check. 

Tagging: @bitchwhytho @music-of-melody @grey-girl @intoanothermind @artsyle​

Series Masterlist 

“Is it true that you’re a changeling?” You take off running straight for Stella’s room. It has to be her but you just don’t get it because you’ve done everything she told you to do. She’s doing her outfit change when you get there. 

“Why?” You don’t have to elaborate because she knows exactly what you mean. Why tell people you’re a changeling? You’ve tried to so hard to keep it a secret and within a week Stella has managed to ruin that for you. 

“Because you needed a lesson. I told you to make him go on a date with me, not help him save Silva so that he’d fall even more in love with you.” She doesn’t even look at you but continues getting ready. It takes everything in you not rip her dress to shreds just for the sake of it. 

“Is this what this is about? I helped save the one person that means more than anything to Sky?” you ask exasperated. How her mind works is being anything you’d ever understand but now that it’s out that you’re a changeling you can’t help but wonder if it’ll be so bad if they find out the rest. 

“You should’ve told me. I could’ve gone with him.” You tell yourself that you’re not a violent person and that you won’t hit her, but she’s making it incredibly hard. That’s when it hits you that if the entire school knows then it’s only a matter of time before Sky finds out too. Will it change how he feels about you? Maybe he’ll shy away from you like the rest of them opting for pointing and whispering instead. 

“You’re absolutely mental,” you say baffled by her calm demeanour. Has she completely lost it? 

“No. I’m just willing to do what it takes to get what I want.” 

“He’s not a clearance sale, he’s a human being. Maybe he should get to decide himself,” you argue not caring about the fact that she’s still keeping part of your secret at this point. 

“I know what Sky needs. He’ll know soon enough himself,” she says finishing up with a little extra blush to touch up her makeup. 

“I told people you were a changeling but I didn’t tell them who your parents turned out to be. There’s still the option to keep that between the two of us if you just stay in your lane.” One of these days, you’re going to smack that smile off her face but today you keep quiet. You’re not ready for everyone to know the truth. Especially not when you have no clue how Sky has taken this news. Maybe one day you’ll be brave enough to tell him. 

“I’ll stay out of your way,” you mutter going straight for your room. The few people you pass on your way make sure to stay well out of your way fear evident in their eyes. Right this instance, you don’t mind it all that much. It makes it easier to get to your room. You decide to hide out in your room for the day and eventually, you fall asleep despite having refused to go down to get some food. It’s the knock on the door at 2am that wakes you up. For a second, you think you must’ve dreamt it but then you hear it again. 

“What are you doing here?” you ask seeing Sky standing outside in the hallway. He doesn’t say a word but instead grabs hold of you and kisses you. An audible gasp leaves your lips and while you know that you should stop him, you just don’t have the strength. The truth is that you want him so badly, you can hardly exist within the feeling. Being apart from him has only made that worse. 

“I did what you asked. I went on a date with her and all I could think was that it should be you.” He kisses you again never letting you catch your breath. You’re standing half out in the hallway doing the one thing that would Stella drop the final bomb. 

“Can I come in?” he asks and you have a momentarily brain bleed and nod. He closes the door behind him giving you the sense of privacy though the thought of Stella finding the two of you stays present in your mind. 

“Did you hear the news?” you ask cautiously thinking there’s no way he hasn’t. The entire school knows you’re a changeling. 

“I heard. Why didn’t you tell me?” His eyes show no judgement, no fear of what you are and once again you can’t help but wonder if it would be so wrong if he knew the whole truth. 

“I was ashamed. I didn’t want you to think worse of me,” you explain knowing your argument is weak but the shame is what keeps you from telling him about your parents. You’re not ready to face that truth yourself. All these years, you’ve done nothing but hide from the truth and the fear of becoming like them. 

“You had no control over it. Is this why you ended things with me? Because I don’t care that you’re a changeling.” His eyes soften reaching out to touch you and you let him. Apparently, self-control is not something you have tonight. 

“I ended things because I didn’t like you like that, Sky. I already told you.” You can’t even convince yourself that you’re telling the truth. He gently lets his fingers glide up your arm causing goose bumps where they touch you. 

“If you don’t care for me, why do we keep finding each other?” he asks quietly and you don’t have an answer. Even with you trying to stay away from him, it seems like some invisible force keeps pulling you towards each other. 

“It’s wrong, Sky. We don’t fit.” You pull away but he’s not ready to give you up just yet. 

“It can’t be wrong when being with you feels so goddamn right.” And maybe you’re just tired of fighting yourself or maybe it’s because he’s looking better than ever in the soft glow from the moon but you crawl under the duvet patting on the empty space next to you. He strips down to his underwear making you feel slightly out of breath. His body is something you’ll never ever get tired of looking at. You haven’t forgotten about Stella and her threat but in the dark, everything seems so far away. All you can think about is Sky lying next to you wearing next to nothing. He wraps his arms around you but it’s not enough. You have a feeling you’ll never get enough of Sky. 

“I want you,” you whisper feeling his body react instantly. You tell yourself that you’ll confront Stella tomorrow and demand she keeps your secret even if you get back together with Sky. Right now, you get lost in the moment just enjoying being back in Sky’s arms. 

[jjuzoir]

Random Kageyama Tobio HCS

Word Count: 1851

Warnings: just... me being in love with a m*n other than masumi 😔 also! these are my headcanons as in,,, what i personally i think he’d be like ‼️ also me projecting my ideal man into him (as if he wasn’t it already 😋)

A/N: i... i love tobio so much it’s literally unreal... i couldn’t wait for a request (i’m still working on the remaining 4 too lolol) so take me projecting my love for tobio >:(

— Kageyama normally wears loose fitting clothes or athletic-style clothing. His favorite go to outfits tends to be a loose tee, some loose pants with an obnoxious Nike logo he swears are super cool but look like two garbage bags sewed together, and running shoes. Throw a hoodie in there for colder weather, even then he still manages to look good.

— He takes very good care of his hair, like freaky good care, because of Miwa. Once she enrolled in cosmetology school and she saw Kageyama use the same baby shampoo from when they were kids she freaked out (if she’d been any later he’d start using 3-in-1) and chewed his ear off about hair care. His hair is super shiny and there’s literally no freeze, he uses nice smelling shampoo and conditioner too. Ugh, I love him.

— He has a very sensitive nose but it gets clogged easily so he doesn’t notice much unless it miraculously unclogs itself and he’s complaining about everything.

— “Eh! Hinata, why’d you smell like a fucking axe bottle?!” “Why does no one say anything about Tsukishima smelling like strawberries?” “Yamaguchi smells like... milk.” “Hah?! Sugawara smells bad-?!”

— He says he’s a picky eater to appear cool but as long as you don’t say what’s in the food he’ll down it. He’ll say he doesn’t like carrots but if you give him a salad with carrots he might even say “it’s the best salad he’s ever had”.

— He’s a hot sleeper, and not in the “oh he’s sexy” type of way. I’m talking, he’ll sweat buckets if he sleeps with anything other than a flimsy white t-shirt and his underwear.

— Might be me projecting my love for bunny teeth but he has bunny teeth, his front teeth are a bit bigger than average (not to the point it’s super noticeable but it’s still something Miwa teased him about), his aunties probably squeezed his cheeks and called him “baby bunny” when he was younger.

— He doesn’t go to sleep later than 9PM, he thinks if he does it’ll ruin his schedule (which it will) and fuck up his body - he’s seen Miwa screw up hers after she pulled a bunch of all nighters in her third year in high school and has been afraid since.

— The type to forget people were coming over and come out of his room shirtless asking for his clean underwear.

— His sister forced him to let her cut and style his hair which led to many questionable hairstyles. Tsukishima is genuinely so grateful to Miwa, especially when she was first starting - he’s got some pictures of Tobio with the shortest most embarrassing bangs ever saved in his phone in a file for blackmail if the need for it ever presented itself.

— Likes pissing people off on purpose sometimes, during one of the training camps he probably walked into the bath with socks on and was made fun of but out of spite he just… never took them off. Said he’d done it on purpose and all too. Tanaka cried out of fear for like a hot minute when he saw him standing under the shower with Iron Man socks on.

— He’s so petty too, if you make fun of him for messing up he’ll remember until you embarrass yourself to make fun of you. And when I say he remembers, I mean it - he can’t for his life remember when to use make and do in english but he remembers when Hinata made fun of him for wearing different socks back on their first year and yes he will bring it up on their second year when he did the same thing what are you going to do about it?

— Probably got scouted for a modeling agency once and began running away because he thought they were trying to kidnap him.

— If he had Tiktok… he would’ve gone viral after posting a video of him practicing, he posted for a while for fun and to flex on people that he was hot but then he saw a comment saying they wanted to drink his milk under a video of him drinking milk and he deleted his account, he can’t buy from that brand for a while.

— He’s got a video of a gorilla walking in two legs saved on his phone for when he’s feeling down and watches it whenever he’s not going well. People think he’s texting his S/O but no, he’s just watching a gorilla walk like minecraft Steve.

— He can’t pose for pictures to save his life, his default pose is an NPC stance with his arms stiffly hanging down and his eyes wide in surprise, don’t ask him to smile or else he will look like a serial killer.

— He’s got a bit of baby fat on his cheeks that won’t disappear no matter what. It’s become a pre-game ritual to pinch his cheeks. He’s also got dimples you can really only see when he smiles naturally but he doesn’t know and he’d get shy if he knew and try covering his face so don’t tell him, that’s a fact he told me so himself.

— Cannot dance to save his life. He’s so long (?) his limb control is non-existent, it appears in game and vanishes when he steps out of the court. He really just bounces on his heels and moves his arms like a t-rex, don’t ask more of him.

— Buys his clothes one size bigger just in case and Miwa teases him saying he’ll need them when he gets old and fat.

— Gets asked out often but always rejects, then has the audacity to complain he’s never dated anyone like he hasn’t turned down half of the school's population.

— Can’t sing. He’s got a nice speaking voice but ask him to sing and he’s out of tone, out of sync, out of breath, and out of the room in 5 seconds.

— Sugawara joked about having him singing as his alarm clock and Kageyama actually believed him, probably sent him a new recording as a gift after he annoyed him during practice.

— Surprisingly funny when he wants to but most jokes fly over people’s heads since he seems so serious most of the time, it annoys him to no end. Yachi still struggles differentiating when he is and isn’t joking because his tone literally doesn’t change at all and she doesn’t want to offend him.

— When he was younger he liked to collect rocks, not even the pretty ones he’d pick the most average, raggedy rocks off the ground and clean them up and tuck them to bed because he saw Miwa play with her barbies like that. Still owns his first rock, he named it “Johnson” after Dwayne Johnson, aka the rock (he’s had to explain it so many times he’s exhausted).

— Accidentally drank expired milk once and didn’t notice until his stomach began hurting and he thought he became lactose intolerant and he was inconsolable for days until he realized it had expired like a month ago - he went on a milk shopping spree and the milk sales that week saw a 20% rise from the last few months.

— Tobio had bad handwriting until he was in Junior High because his teachers couldn’t understand him and had him practice calligraphy, his handwriting is now one of the prettiest ones in the team and he’s the official inker of the VBC posters (as designated by Goddess Yachi Hitoka herself).

— His biggest fear for a long time was getting eaten by piranhas because he saw it happen so often in cartoon shows he genuinely thought it was going to be a bigger deal than it turned out to be but for like a solid 6 years of his life he avoided suspicions puddles just in case.

— Kageyama has a habit of rolling and unrolling his sleeves when he’s deep in thought, it soon made way to a habit of checking his wrist watch (he absolutely has a wrist watch, you cannot change my mind on that) but not actually reading it.

— His nails are very pretty, like most setters, he takes very good care of them. They’re filed down to a perfect length and he puts oils and creams, his hands in general are so nice. He takes a lot of pride in them, you know his cuticles are pushed back and trimmed and he could absolutely be a hand model. Kags’ hands are calloused, he’s a volleyball player of course they are, but it’s not to the extent of Ushijima or Daichi’s hands.

— Talking about hands, it’s probably one of his favorite features on people. He loves holding hands with his S/O and tracing the wrinkles in their palm, being able to interlock fingers with them and feel the bumps in them.

— Mumbles to himself when in thought too! Very nonsensical if you’re not informed on what he’s thinking about, if he’s thinking about you he’ll mumble your name or something like “pretty eyes”.

— Has a very healthy diet, like extremely healthy and thought out. He won’t eat anything too sugary or that could throw off his body, but he does have cheat days (which are rare but exist). He also doesn’t drink much soda or alcohol (once he’s of age).

— Things like smoking are a big no, he takes so much care of his body he wouldn’t even touch a cigarette or be near a smoking area, lowkey paranoid of ingesting the smoke too.

— When he’s older I can see him having a dog and a cat, the dog would be a big dog; if they stood on two paws it’d be the same height as you, he’d name or something like Tobias and think he was super clever and funny, the cat would probably a small cat he’d name Milk (it probably would be a black cat too but he does not care).

— Probably tried baby formula because he heard it was a substitute for breast milk. No further comments on this.

— I feel like he doesn’t listen to music, but if he had to choose something he’d pick instrumental music - not orchestral music or anything like that - but more of a chill, no deep meaning just guitar and piano track. I could see him listening to Shego Sekito or Joe Hisashi on occasion, he might even listen to some 2000’s pop if he wants something to pump him up during training (he works out to Brittney Spears’ “Womanizer”).

— A cuddle-bug when he’s sleepy, he’ll throw himself across his S/O and not move at all, he just wants to stay there and not move ever again (or at least until he’s not feeling like passing out). He’ll like to wrap himself around them and cuddle their neck, he’ll attach himself to their arm like it’s a lifeline.

— In other words, Kageyama Tobio… b-boyfriend material.

[ofendlesswonder]

ah so exciting! would love number 25

25. “I need a place to stay.”

A shadow falls over Kara’s desk, and she pauses her proofread of her latest article to glance up at the person hovering by her shoulder, jaw dropping open when she gets a glimpse of messy blond curls.

“Carter?” It’s been months since she’d thought of him, longer still since she’d seen him, but the face is unmistakable, his bottom lip caught between his teeth. “What are you doing here? Is your Mom here?”

She hasn’t seen Cat in months, either, not since she left to ‘dive’ into pastures new. No one has seen her recently, in fact—she’s effectively disappeared off the face of the earth, is only mentioned in gossip columns when they’re speculating her whereabouts.

Not that Kara has a Google alert set up for her name, or anything.

“No, she’s in Washington.”

“D.C.?” What on earth is she doing there? And what on earth is Carter doing here, backpack slung over his shoulder, eyes red-rimmed and cheeks blotchy like he’d been crying.

“Yeah. She took a new job there.”

Kara feels like he’s reading from a script she isn’t privy too, has no idea how any of this has led him to be here, standing by her new desk and scuffing his converse along the floor. “Okay…”

“But I don’t want to live there. I didn’t want to leave here, but she said it would be temporary. That we’d come back. Only now she wants to work in the stupid White House and she’s looking at apartments and a new school and I—I don’t want it. We had a fight.” He sniffs, rubs the back of his sleeve across his cheek like he’s scrubbing away the remnant of his tears. “And I said I wanted to come back. Live with Dad, if that’s what it took.”

Kara can only imagine how Cat would have taken that.

Not well, by any means.

“She sent me back, only I don’t want to live with my Dad, I want to live with her, but here in our old apartment. He wouldn’t even meet me at the airport. He said I was old enough to get a cab.”

Kara’s jaw tightens—she knows Chris is an asshole, but this seems like a new low, even for him.

“So, I got a cab, but not to him.”

“You came here, instead.” Here, to some semblance of stability, of familiarity. The apartment is gone—Kara had helped Cat list it for sale, and it had been snapped up in no time, and she wonders if Cat had ever really considered a move back to National City. The apartment is gone, but CatCo. is not, and Kara remembers countless afternoons where Carter had come by after school, curling up in Cat’s office with his homework. Sometimes, Kara had helped him with a particularly stubborn math problem, or talked to him about his favorite anime, keeping him entertained until his mother was off the clock.

“I need a place to stay,” he says, voice small, eyes glued to his shoes. “Can I come home with you?”

Yes, she wants to say, without hesitation, recognizing the small, scared child he so desperately tried to hide, the one who felt like he had nowhere else to go. Yes, of course you can—but it’s never that simple, is it?

She has a secret identity to protect, and he’s supposed to be with his father, and Cat might kill her, and—

Wait.

Does Cat know where he is?

“No,” he says, when she asks. “I didn’t tell her. And I turned off my phone, so she wouldn’t track me.”

“Carter.” She can’t help the admonishment, because she knows how much Cat cares about him—she’d do anything for him, and she imagines her pacing up and down a hotel room in the capital, already on the phone to the police. “You should call her.”

He makes a noise of discontent.

“At least let her know you’re safe. She’ll be worrying.”

“Can you call her?”

“I…I don’t know about that. I think it would be better coming from you.”

“Please?” He peers down at her with eyes so like his mother’s that Kara aches.

“All right,” she sighs, and makes the mistake of glancing across the bullpen. Snapper is glaring at her, his face red. Great. Someone else who wants to kill me. Could this day get any better?

“Kara?” Cat answers the phone sounding harried, and Kara recognizes the faint note of panic in her voice. She lets herself bask in the familiarity of it for one long moment—months, since she’d heard Cat’s voice, months, since she’d last felt the comfort of it. Months of missing her, in a way she knows she isn’t allowed to. “This isn’t a great time.”

“Uh, I know.” She looks at Carter, who avoids her gaze. “Something about a missing fourteen year old?”

“How…how do you know that?”

“Because he’s standing right in front of me.”

“Carter’s with you?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“Why?”

“Good question. Should I let him explain it for himself?”

Carter shoots her a sharp look, but Kara forces the phone into his hand anyway, pointedly turning away like she’s not listening as he lifts it to his ear. She stares at the blinking cursor on her computer screen as he talks, trying to summon the will to finish her work.

No such luck.

“Could you…could you keep an eye on him for me?” Cat asks, when Carter gives her back her phone. “I’m going to fly out as soon as I can, but it’ll be a few hours before I can get there. I know it’s an imposition, and he’s supposed to be with Chris, but he said he’d be more comfortable with you.”

Her gaze flickers to Carter, to the hopeful expression on his face, to the pleading note in Cat’s voice, thinks of the opportunity to see her again, even if for just one more day.

“Okay,” she says, and knows it’s the right decision when Carter lurches forward to wrap his arms around her neck. “I’ll watch him.”

“No runaway trains this time,” Cat says into her ear, and Kara laughs, remembering her last ill-fated babysitting attempt, a lifetime ago.

“I’ll try my best.”

 ***

The knock on her door comes at nine thirty, not quite loud enough to wake the sleeping teenager stretched out on her couch.

She pulls open the door, comes face-to-face with the woman she’s been trying so hard not to think about for the past few months, and Kara thinks, as their eyes meet, her heart thudding painfully in her chest, that she’s been fooling herself, because it all comes rushing back the second their eyes meet.

There was only ever one reason why things would have never worked with James, one reason why Kara hasn’t been able to so much as think about dating since they’d ended things, one reason why her life has felt so empty these past few months.

Only one person who could make her heart pound, set butterflies free in her stomach, make her palms—physically impossible though it may be—feel damp.

And that person is the woman standing in front of her now, her eyes as wild as her hair, mussed from the wind, a faint flush on her cheeks and Kara wonders if she’d raced up the stairs in those three inch heels, desperate to set eyes on her beloved son, to see for herself he was safe and well.

“Come on in,” Kara says, standing aside to let her past. It’s the first time Cat has been inside her home, and the gravity of the moment isn’t lost on her.

She’s glad she had the foresight to tidy up a little, while Carter had been in the shower.

If he’d noticed that the amount of cleaning she’d done shouldn’t have been possibly in such a sort frame of time by human hands, he’d had the grace not to mention it.

“I, uh, didn’t want to wake him up,” Kara says, pitching her voice low, when Cat gravitates toward the couch, gazing down at Carter with such open affection she feels like she has to look away. “Seeing as he’s had a hard day.”

She’d tried to distract him as much as possible, enlisting his help with the fun of filing while she’d been at work, and then with food and games once she’d taken him home. He looked like he’d needed it, lost in his head, spiralling over the choices that had been made for him, bits and pieces of his life over the last few months spilling out over the course of the afternoon.

“Thank you for looking after him.”

Kara shrugs. “It wasn’t any trouble.”

“Still. You don’t owe me anything. Not anymore.”

“On the contrary, Ms. Grant. I owe you a lot.” She’d forgotten how hard it was to think, with Cat’s eyes weighing heavy on her face. “My job, for example. I wouldn’t be a junior reporter without you.”

“Nonsense. You got that job on your own merit. Otherwise you wouldn’t be doing so well.”

“You read my articles?”

“Of course.” Cat looks offended she thought otherwise. “Is Snapper still giving you hell?”

“I think he likes to torture me.” Her nose wrinkles, and Cat laughs, some of her worry ebbing away now Carter is within her sights.

He’s still sound asleep, and Cat doesn’t look like she wants to wake him. Bathed in the glow of the lamp on Kara’s coffee table, she’s breath-taking, and Kara looks away before she’s caught staring.

“Do you, um, want a drink or anything?”

“I wouldn’t want to impose any more than we already have.”

Panic seizes her heart at the thought of Cat leaving so soon, because when would she see her again? Would she leave right away, ushering Carter back to the CatCo. jet and across the country before night truly fell? Or would she linger, perhaps let herself remember all the things she loved about this place?

Not that that would include you, you idiot.

“Please,” she says, trying not to listen to the voice in her head. “I…It would be nice to hear what you’ve been up to these last few months.”

For a moment, she doesn’t think it’s enough. Thinks Cat is going to leave anyway, slip away even though Kara only just got her back.

But then she blinks, and her lips curve into the smallest of smiles, and she says: “Very well. What have you got?”

Good question, Kara thinks, because probably not a lot. Whatever Alex and Maggie had left over last game’s night, which turns out to be a bottle of cheap whiskey Cat turns her nose up at. Kara doesn’t blame her—apparently it left a killer hangover.

“I’m trying to cut down on drinking,” Cat says, and her gaze flickers over to the back of the couch. “I’ve been told it’s not very healthy. Apparently it’s bad for my liver.”

A sentiment she’d never once shared before, but Kara bites her tongue. It’s none of her business, the ways in which Cat has changed. None of her business, to wonder if Cat’s been throwing down scotches to try and chase away the memories of the city she’d left behind.

“How about a tea?” Cat suggests, and Kara blinks at her.

There’s a request she’s never made before.

“Regular, peppermint or camomile?”

“Regular is fine.” Kara brews a pot, wonders why she feels so jittery, but she knows the answer. It’s because Cat is here, in her space, after so many months away. Here, in a place thus far untouched by her, and Kara knows when she’s gone she’ll feel the imprint of her, remember the way she’d stood, leaning against her kitchen counter, looking out of place and like she was exactly where she belonged at the same time.

“So,” she says, once she’s handed Cat a steaming mug. “Washington, huh?”

“Carter told you.”

“Only a little. He didn’t say what you were there for.”

“I was offered a job. White House Press Secretary.”

Kara nearly chokes on a sip of her own tea in shock. But then, she thinks, it makes sense. She could see it—Cat, at the front of a room full of reporters, tearing them apart if they dared ask her the wrong thing. She could certainly think of no better person to have fighting your corner than Cat Grant.

“Is that what you want to do? Get into politics?”

“It’s something I’ve considered.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“My, my,” Cat says, clutching her mug between long fingers and throwing Kara a lazy smile. “Look at you. Am I being interviewed, Ms. Danvers?”

Kara ducks her head, feeling her cheeks warm. “Sorry. Force of habit.”

“It’s all right.” Cat’s voice is gentle, her eyes unguarded when Kara dares to look her way. “To be honest, I don’t know what I want. I thought getting away from here would bring me clarity, inspiration for my next big thing, but…instead I found myself wandering without purpose. Less a shark stuck in a tank and more a tiny goldfish, lost at sea.”

“Then why not come back? It...it’s not the same without you.” Too much, probably. Too close to spilling the truth, maybe, but it’s too late to take the words back now.

“Because my reasons for leaving haven’t changed.”

What reasons, Kara wants to ask, because the ones she’d been given had never made any sense. Cat handing over the reins to her beloved company just didn’t seem like something she’d do, especially without so much as a glance back. What reasons, Kara wants to know, but the line they tread is so thin—she thinks of Cat’s razor-sharp voice saying strictly professional and never wants to feel an ache like that again.

“And what about Carter?”

Cat glances toward the couch again and sighs. “I hadn’t realised he was so reticent until today. I know he struggles with change, but…I thought this would be a good one. He could go to a better school, have more opportunities. I didn’t know he was so attached to this place.”

“Of course he’s attached. It’s his home. It’s all he’s ever known, and you—no offence—are yanking it away from him.”

“I suppose you have a point.” Cat’s lips purse. “When did you get so wise?”

“Learned it from the best,” she says, and Cat’s smile is tight. “Are you…are you going back there tonight?”

“No, I don’t think so. I think Carter and I need to have a discussion, first. One where I listen to him instead of making the decision for him. I just…I thought I was doing the best thing for him. For both of us.”

“So you might stay?” She can’t quash the hopeful note in her voice, watches a shadow pass across Cat’s face and wonders what it means.

“I don’t know. I don’t know if I can.” Her fingers tremble, the tiniest amount, as she sets down her empty mug, runs them through her hair.

“Why?” Just do it, she thinks, because when she wakes up tomorrow, Cat might be gone, and there are too many unanswered questions for her to be left with. “What’s so bad about being here? What are you so desperate to get away from?”

“Oh, Kara.” Cat’s eyes close, a sigh rattling through her chest. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Then help me to.” She knows she’s being obstinate. That there’s a reason Cat doesn’t want to tell her, that she has no right to know.

But she remembers Cat saying goodbye, Cat’s arms wrapped around her, heart beating so loud it was impossible for Kara not to notice, the shimmer of tears in her eyes before she’d blinked them away. Remembers the countless times Kara had reached out, over the past few months, only to be ignored, like she meant nothing when she knew she’d meant at least something.

“Please, Cat. I just want—”

She’s cut off when Cat surges forward, settling one hand on the counter beside Kara’s hip and wrapping the other around the back of Kara’s neck, drawing her down into a kiss. Kara freezes, brain short-circuiting as Cat’s lip brush against her own, soft and warm, but when she feels Cat begin to pull away, her bravado failing, she snaps into action, discarding her mug on the counter and splaying a hand at the small of Cat’s back to keep her close.

It’s been building for years, she thinks, as Cat parts her lips for Kara’s searching tongue, nails digging into the base of her skull. Years of working closely together, a spark igniting but neither of them willing to give it space to grow, too terrified of what might happen, if it grew into a fire they could no longer control.

“That’s why,” Cat breathes, when she pulls away, heart hammering almost as fast as Kara’s.

“Seems like a pretty good reason to stay to me,” Kara says, leaning in to kiss her again, but Cat stops her with a shake of her head.

“It’s not. Kara, you shouldn’t want this. Shouldn’t want me.”

“I know,” she says, and when Cat flinches, she doesn’t let her pull away. “I know there are a dozen reasons why I shouldn’t, why we shouldn’t be together, but I also…don’t really care. I’ve spent the past few months missing you like crazy, and it hasn’t diminished the way I feel about you. Doesn’t that mean something? Doesn’t that mean it’s worth trying?”

“I…” Cat trails off, meets her gaze and traces the pads of her fingers across Kara’s cheek, looks at her like she barely believes she’s real. “I don’t know. I don’t know how to.”

“You start by letting me in. By not running away when—” She hears movement on the couch, hopes to Rao Carter hasn’t heard any of their hushed conversation. “Carter’s waking up.”

Cat is quick to slip from her arms, and Kara feels the loss of her like a physical ache, chilled to the bone in the places she’d just been burning with warmth. “I don’t want this to be the end of it,” she says, knowing Carter’s not yet fully conscious, knowing they have a few more stolen moments. “I don’t want you to go to your hotel room and talk yourself out of it.”

“Kara Danvers, are you asking me to spend the night?”

“No, because I know you’d turn me down.” She can sense it, in the nervous energy radiating from her. Cat isn’t a person who lays her heart on the line, is someone guarded and careful, isn’t reckless the way she had been tonight. She needed time to process, time to think it through, and Kara would give her that—as long as she wasn’t going to slip away without saying goodbye. “But we should talk. Tomorrow.”

“Before five.”

Kara frowns. “Why five?”

“Because that’s how long the Press Secretary job is on the table for.”

“You haven’t accepted it?”

“Not yet,” she says, and Kara feels hope bloom in her chest. “I told them I had some things I need to consider first.”

“And now?”

“Now I have even more things to think about.” She reaches out, catches Kara’s fingers with her own and squeezes, and Kara’s heart thuds in her chest. She wants to lean down, wants to kiss her again, already misses the heat of her mouth, but a head pops over the back of the couch, Carter rubbing at his eyes.

“Hi, Mom.”

“Don’t you ‘Hi Mom’ me,” Cat says, eyes narrowing until Carter gulps. “Do you have any idea how worried I was, young man?"

“I’m sorry,” he says, his head hanging. “But I wanted to stop you doing something stupid, and this was the only way I know how.”

And thank Rao he had. Her day would have shaken out very differently had Carter not arrived in the bullpen, she knows. She’d have finished her article and gone to hang out with Alex and Maggie, probably, tried to ignore the ache seeing the two of them so happy seems to incite, lately, craving something similar for herself.

“Hm. Well, we’ll talk about it later. For now, I think we’ve taken up enough of Kara’s time, don’t you?”

Not enough of it, Kara thinks, but she bites her tongue. Space. Time to process. Not snuggling up together on the couch with a movie.

“Thanks for today, Kara.” Carter looks only a little sheepish as he gathers his things, slinging his backpack over his shoulder.

“Any time, buddy,” she says, meaning it more than he’ll probably ever know. The urge to kiss Cat goodbye is so strong she can barely stand it, and she balls her hands into fists at her sides so she doesn’t reach for her. “I’ll, uh, see you tomorrow?” She asks, before Cat slips through the door, dizzy with the feeling of being on the cusp of something she’s wanted for so long.

“Tomorrow,” Cat agrees, looking like it pains her to say it, looking like she doesn’t know how she’s possibly going to muster the will to leave, green eyes so heavy on Kara’s face it feels like a caress, feels like the ghost of her kiss, makes her feel like she’s burning from the inside out. “Goodnight, Kara.”

Goodnight, and not goodbye, and Kara hovers in the doorway, watches them go down the hall.

“You are in big trouble,” she hears Cat say as they turn the corner, slipping out of sight. “What were you thinking?”

And she shouldn’t listen, she knows, but she catches her name, as they start down the stairs, and can’t help but tune in to a snippet of conversation.

“I was thinking I missed home, and that I was sick of you moping after Kara for the past eight months, and it was time someone did something about it,” Carter says, then: “Ow!” as Cat must smack him over the head.

“Don’t ever pull a stunt like that again.”

“But did it work?”

“None of your business.”

“It totally worked.”

Kara shakes her head, unable to bite back a smile as she steps back inside and lets the door shut behind her.