#if this flops oh well i liked making the header so that's time well used 😔😔

[okifyouinsist]

tagged by @killerandhealerqueen (i just keep forgetting abt this one SIGH but i have free time rn and im committed)

1. why did you choose your url?

growing up, i just wasn't a social media girl purely bc of the fact that my parents were super strict and I assumed they wouldn't allow me to have it and I just never really saw the appeal anyways. Then later a few friends basically forced me to make my first account and because i wasn't very creative and thought i was the funniest bitch ever i made my first user 'ifyouinsist' and it just kinda stuck ig

2. any sideblogs? if you have them name them and why you have them.

nope. i fear if i had a sideblog id end up neglecting it and forget abt it or make it my new main blog and neglect this blog and this blog is literally my baby

3. how long have you been on tumblr?

well i've had an account since like end of 2019, beginning of 2020???? (im pretty sure) i didnt like use my account tho i just had it to look at other ppls blogs not my own, i only acc recently made up my blog up properly and started posting this year when it was like 2 am and i was on holiday to visit my home country and my mum and my aunts were gossiping and i was like whatever who tf cares how late i am to a fandom and the rest was history

4. do you have a queue tag?

nope, my drafts are a terrifying place and if they ever saw light id die

5. why did you start your blog in the first place?

to reblog pretty art and to compliment writers on ao3 AND on tumblr bc they deserve everything and more

6. why did you choose your icon/pfp?

logan sargeant. need i say any more???? hes my bsf in spirit

7. why did you choose your header?

loscar. LOSCAR. loscar. i am very much totally normal abt them i swear (lying through my teeth rn). they're just my everything unfortunately and sometimes i like to say the fist bump is their version of intertwining their fingers together

8. what’s your post with the most notes?

ik this bc it was the first i myself made and it was abt loscar obviously and i thought i was SO funny (im not) and its lowk still such a flop post but its MY flop post so here it is :)

9. how many mutuals do you have?

idk man im shy (scared of rejection) so i dont have a lot, like genuinely let me go see acc, oh ig its me and my 14 moots against the world i love you guys fr

10. how many followers do you have?

BYE my 26 followers are my 4 lifers fr (im such a flop this is hilarious)

11. how many people do you follow?

37 (sigh need to follow more ppl RN)

12. have you ever made a shitpost?

im gonna be so real idk what defines as a shit post but most probably yeah

13. how often do you use tumblr each day?

idk im acc really inconsistent like ill be MIA for 2 whole days and the next week ill be on tumblr like for most of my day when i can its very confusing like today ive not been on it a lot im academically locking in and all that

14. did you have a fight/argument with another blog once?

ummm no. like. if i see someone i follow getting hate ill send them a supportive ask and then at the end of it be like anon ur such a loser get a life but other than that. nope.

15. how do you feel about ‘you need to reblog this’ posts?

im very much neutral abt them, like idc if i need to reblog it yk if i want to i will if i dont then i wont

16. do you like tag games?

YES (said in a very normal voice)

17. do you like ask games

YES. i love getting asks id cry if someone sent an ask (i have one rotting away from a moot rn i WILL answer it i swear)

18. which of your mutuals do you think is tumblr famous?

can i say all my moots. i wanna say all my moots they're all famous in my eyes guys, i start tagging its gonna end with all my moots being tagged but like @killerandhealerqueen and @dwarvenchords were the first 2 ppl to come to my mind theyre both just the coolest fr

19. do you have a crush on a mutual?

nah. i have FRIEND crushes on literally all of them tho. wanna be their friends SO bad

20. what is the last song you listened to?

Mamichula- Bizarrap

21. what are you currently watching?

in my docuseries era rn watching breakpoint (STILL)(i only have time on the weekends rn SIGH)

22. sweet/ savoury/ spicy?

sweet. im such a 'lets skip the dinner and just get dessert' kinda girl

23. what is your current relationship status?

this is SUCH a complicated question to answer but heavily leaning more towards single

24. what is your current obsession?

sports. like just sports in general. like ive always been a casual fan of sports but i never used to take a deep dive into it but this year i decided to dive, and i dived VERY deep, so like motorsports, tennis, football, cricket, trying to get into hocky rn im collecting them atp. also. documentaries. like when i get time ill be binge watching like 5 documentaries i just love them sm

25. what are nine albums/ songs you've been listening to lately?

wish i could tell you fr, i mean, rn im re listening to SOUR by Olivia Rodriguez AGAIN bc thats the way my life is going SIGH, Olivia is my favourite basic artist fr, nothing compares to listening to SOUR for the first time in 2021

ANYWAYS, thanks again for the tag i really appreciate it, im gonna tag @ezisregrettinglifedecisions @fabeong @whatssthepooiintt

[skywardsister]

Mario Fanfic- Your King is in Another Castle

After seeing the Mario movie, I wondered- what would happen if Bowser went missing instead of Peach or Mario, Luigi and Toad like in Super Princess Peach? The characters are property of Nintendo, the story is mine (please don’t use my work without my permission- thanks!)

           One average, unremarkable afternoon in the Mushroom Kingdom, Princess Peach called an impromptu meeting with her most trusted advisors and her most capable guards after some unexpected guests arrived at the castle. On a normal day, such guests would arrive as intruders intent on harm; this was not the case that afternoon, peculiarly enough.

           “It’s just horrible,” Kamek explained to the princess while Bowser Jr. clung tightly to his robes, trembling. “His Nastiness King Bowser was invited to a neighboring kingdom for a royals-only event two weeks ago, but he just never returned!”

           “Sounds like an extended vacation if you ask me,” one armed toad suggested with a shrug. “What’s the big deal?”

           “He doesn’t fancy formal occasions, nor is he the… hospitable type. He wouldn’t entertain them with his audience for so long,” the magikoopa wrung his hands together. “He should’ve been back by now! The kingdom is in more shambles than usual without him, and I can’t help but suspect nefarious intentions.”

           “I want my daddy,” Bowser Jr. simply sniffled beside the wizard.

           Princess Peach cast a sympathetic look towards the whimpering boy but her people weren’t as eager to hear them out. A few toads around the meeting table murmured to one another about throwing a grand celebration; Bowser had always posed a looming threat to their way of life, so this news was more of a pleasant surprise than anything.

           “And how should we know if this isn’t some ruse to kidnap Her Majesty or stage an invasion here?” One toad with blue spots asked, his skeptical gaze magnified behind a pair of circular glasses much like Kamek’s.

           “To commit treachery in a time of crisis would be lunacy,” Kamek scowled back at the toad. “Not to mention, King Bowser would never craft a plot that would make him look weak or helpless- his ego is far too great! Meanwhile, I’ve been trying to hold everything together.” At that, the wizard patted his ward’s hand.

           By now, most of the toads sitting around the room seemed to shift to listening more intently to their tale of woe. Already, Peach sat with a changing expression that meant she was considering the circumstances and what to do next. She sighed and crossed her arms. Sure Bowser’s kingdom boasted a colorful variety of underlings, but based on their history with Mario, none of them would be remotely capable of retrieving their leader.

           “If we help you, I must have your word that my people and I will be left alone from now on,” the princess stated firmly, fixing the wizard and koopaling with an unwavering glare.

           “Oh yes,” Kamek began bowing excessively to the princess, his hood flopping and his glasses sliding down his nose from the motion. “Rest assured, we won’t forget your assistance once this is all over.” He pushed his glasses back up and gave Peach a kooky grin.

           As if on cue, the sound of light footsteps padding their way in announced Toadette’s presence. The pink toad ferried a letter straight to the princess, passing Kamek and Bowser Jr. with a brief glance.

           “This just came in, Your Highness,” Toadette held up the mail for the princess to take. Accepting the letter, it was clear that this was no ordinary message; a melted wax seal with a strange, unfamiliar insignia enclosed the envelope on the back. The wax itself almost shimmered under the light. Peach wasted no time opening it and unfolding the paper within. The same crest decorated the header and preceded cursive script that made her eyes widen; she shared a look with Toadette, who had been scanning the words as well.

           “That looks just like the letter King Bowser received before he left,” Kamek pointed at the paper. He leapt up suddenly, the realization striking him. “Oh!”

           “This is perfect,” Princess Peach smiled, looking up from the letter. “They’ve practically invited me to search for him. And look,” she tapped the bottom of the page with her finger. “It says I may bring a plus-one.” She rested a hand on her attendant’s shoulder, her grin never wavering. “Would you come with me?”

           “Me? Wouldn’t you rather someone like Mario accompany you?” Toadette stammered, flustered. Peach shook her head and laid the letter on the table. In an extravagant event held for nobility, a lady-in-waiting like Toadette would blend in whereas Mario would stand out too much for his own good; it would jeopardize the mission at hand. Toadette wasn’t incapable either, having rescued the princess from Bowser’s clutches once. In their absence, Mario and Luigi could supervise the kingdom for them. Upon being reminded of the facts, the toad girl cautiously agreed.

           Once it was decided, the meeting dispersed so the princess and her attendant could pack any necessities they could think of that would serve their adventure well- Toadette loaded a backpack with the letter folded neatly, travel snacks in case their journey lasted longer than anticipated, and a few personal items for each of them. This wasn’t a trip worthy of suitcases; if all went accordingly, their stay wouldn’t be long. As soon as they were ready, the princess and her trusty attendant set off towards unfamiliar lands.  

[plutothe-pup]

RP RESOLUTIONS AND HABITS:

TW: .........i used a lot of memes............im sorry. idk how to be serious. im in a silly goofy mood idk. do u see the header u know what u signed up for ok

Real TW: very minor drug mentions.

Write your RPer Resolutions for 2024! (What are some goals for yourself as a writer? Improve descriptions? Plot with more members? Etc.)

Once again, I am asking myself to learn how to plot. That is going to be the theme here, just wait. Seriously though, I am pretty terrible at it. I do not like to approach people because I am........... idk weird. I am somehow anti-social even online and tend to just sit there twiddling my thumbs instead of reaching out. It's been a problem for me for literally ever. Sometimes I even get scared when people reach out to ME. But one year maybe we will get there. I also want to get back to regular activity. I've been really slipping these past few ... well, years I feel. I want to be more consistent at the very least, and not just post, disappear, spam, disappear, etc. I know I say this every time - but maybe just once: do a big plot. Do a big plot for yourself buddy. You can do it. Best Supporting character's get a sequel spin-off series one day, right. Just do it. JUST DO IT. I also feel like my writing recently compared to years ago has gotten poorer in quality. Idk what that's all about but I would like to improve that. Make proofreading a thing for me again 2024 or whatever.

me @ myself:

Write at least one resolution, or “goal,” that you have as an RPer for your character(s):

Oh - you....... you think I have GOALS? (tbh I think they align with my character's own. We're on the SAME TEAM)

Greg: RECONNECT WITH HIS PARENTS. This was like a silent plot I started literally over a year ago where Gregory got more and more distant with his parents until they stopped talking entirely and he moved out to live at R2F. He's been on and off about trying to reach out - and this is the year to do it. Also probably come to terms a bit more with his relationship with Zero. He's comfortable in it and loves Zero very much - but there's that voice in the back of his mind still saying that he'll leave. Sebastian: Get over his crush on Lo that he did to himself. I want him to fully accept uncle life. To get over his fear of hurting people. Milo: BREAK. HIS. CURSE. .........nah. That's not my goal for him this year lmfao. I want him to find his passion, actually. Will it be in working out and being a jock? Does he actually have a fond passion for cooking? Does he yearn for theater? Fawn: Get her into TROUBLE. I didn't really do much with this yet, but she's a TROUBLE MAKER. She's nearly been kicked out the hollow for god's sake. She is a TERROR. It's time to UNLEASH IT.

Write at least one resolution IN CHARACTER for your characters. What do THEY want to accomplish or change in the New Year?

Greg: Reconnect and apologize to his parents - but to do that... kick the minor drug problem first. Sebastian: Don't die. (.....i can't stress enough this man doesn't have outlooks) Milo: BREAK. MY. CURSE. Fawn: Discover a new creature in Enchantra! Befriend the creature! Train the creature! Sick the creature on Eboshi so it eats her and the forest is free again :)

List one or more characters you have never interacted with that you would like to do so:

.....disclaimer: I have bad memory now. soooooo. if we did interact and I list u here I am so sorry i am so so so so sorry.

Clarion: For obvious reasons, and also as stated above - Fawn is on mighty thin ice in the Hollow, so I think any interactions between them would be great and funny. And........ well maybe she gets kicked out oops. Doc: I'm not counting twitter interactions - I just think because of the whole Luca thing, I feel like Doc has flip flopped on his opinion of Milo multiple times and it would be funny for them to finally meet and talk. (and prove he's a good boi!) Any of TAM'S characters strictly because - I believe u have escaped me so far. Eluded. (That's not hard, as we discussed in point 1 I am very inconsistent) That should change!! ....I am sure the format of this post is very enticing...... sorry.

Talk a bit about your plotting style – what plots are you most drawn to? Do you prefer to come with a fully-formed idea and plot off that, or throw stuff at the wall and see what sticks?

And here dear reader we return to the beginning again. Roll credits: oh man, I simply do not. I am by default a 'buckle your seatbelts and lets just see wtf happens' kind of person simply because I am SO BAD at plotting in the first place! So many of my 'plots' revolve around other people's well equipped talents, or throwing my characters at opens/events/etc and seeing what disaster strikes. I'm just doing drive bys at all times of day.

Talk a bit about character relationships – what relationships are you most drawn to? How do you prefer to approach shipping (if at all!)? What, specifically, are you looking for right now for your character relationships? 

I love just good old fashion friendship and family relationships! Like I adore the relationship Milo has with Pip/King/Luca. The Greg/Jun relationship, Sebby and his bros. I think it's pure and good and writing BFFs getting into dumb things is my favorite. I also like BEEF. I am a fan of rough-housing so to speak. Drama? Sure. Pile it up. Beef? Grudges. Fights. Whatever. It is okaaaaay. I love a good ol' beefin' between people. Same as above. I barely plot as it is - but when I do, it's definitely not relationships/shipping. In fact, I don't really 'ship'. i don't plan around ships, I don't get characters for ships, I don't anticipate ships. If one develops while throwing fruit--- I mean characters at other people, then that's great! That's how.......... both of my current relationships are! Phineas and Fawn were completely random and not at all my intention but they vibed from the start and it happened to work out in the timeline. Gregory and Zero were incredibly unlikely but started talking here and there, and Z and I didn't really say........ anything to each other at all until they were kissing in Pixie's and even then - we didn't think they'd become a #thing. ..........which they did. So I'm pretty much just...... looking to expand on the ones I have? Explore Phawneas a bit and see what on earth is going on inside their head, see where Glo takes us. ............figure out if Seahound can survive not jumping each other's bones forever.

Plotting Exercise! Pick one of the resolutions/goals in #3 and plan a rough guideline to how you could accomplish it.

..........what if I said no, huh? I'm so BAD at this (it all comes back to it yanno)

GREG TALKS TO HIS PARENTS:

GREGORY and ZERO have a discussion post-Zero's parents coming to town, where ZERO tries to prod about what is going on between GREG and his parents, and Greg comes clean to him about the fight that happened between them. Zero gently offers to go with him to talk to them but Greg doesn't think it's time yet.

Still too uncertain, GREG asks IAN if his mum has said anything about Aubrey, or about Greg. He tries to gauge if his parents have been talking about him to their friends, if they're upset, or if they've moved on.

PLOT CALL: Gregory anonymously looks into sources for mental health, and tries to find people with experience in the same struggles he's had. He either forms or joins an anonymous online/twitter support group for such problems / group therapy.

Having overheard various times through the grapevine, GREG finds and approaches TAD to see if he can talk to him about his recovery and sobriety and find advice/guidance for that path.

Knowing that he might get the most brutal honest answers, GREG confides in JUN and asks his advice on what he should do or how he should handle it.

GREG finally bites the bullet and drags JUN and ZERO to his parents house for support to talk to them again after over a year of radio silence.

PHEW. A tough one.

Anyways. ...........................

my deepest apologies again. idk what happened. this did start serious but then it went off the rails. it's sincere between all the...... whatever that is.

[koishua]

is that a bird? it that a plane? no! it's yet another koishua event! this time, it's not me doing the work however </3 from this day (21.04.22) till 01.05.22, you lot will be filling up our truth jar! you can reblog this post to widen the game's reach on this site too haha even if you're not a follower, you're more than welcome to submit a confession in the truth jar!!

what is this truth jar, you ask?

the answer is quite simple! in this completely anonymous google form, containing only a single text box to fill and answer, you can spill the one thing that you think fits the bill for a juicy confession: scandalous events you've witnessed? your most hidden secret that not even a single soul knows about? something you've been thinking about that you believe most people will find utterly controversial?

anything goes! just fill the box with a juicy confession and i will proceed to tier rank the confessions at the end of the given time (01.05.22)! you may give multiple entries! the more, the merrier!

what are the tiers i will be ranking them as, you may wonder?

the list of tiers goes as follows: "we share the same braincell, i'd have done the same too" ; "wait a damn minute, did i just read this right?" ; "very questionable. i am worried, let's talk about this" ; "ummm im afraid to tall ya this, but..." ; "we need to get you a good therapist" ; "no. just no. immediate jail card."

don't hold back, my friends or else this might be a tad bit boring </3

how are YOU gonna be playing the game?

listen, my job here is to rank your confessions and rank them only with some side commentary. i'll read through them and transfer each one of them as single posts, where we can all discuss where we could rank them in under that post's (confession) replies </3

hopefully by the end of the day, our judges will come to a conclusion for all of them and that's that to the game </3 hope it's not too confusing y'all im expecting some whack stuff in the form, ngl

note that this game is actually a complete ripoff from youtube user debsmikle, the darling sweetheart sexy hilarious woman that we all love and cherish </3

[atombombbibunny]

Imperfect Prologue Austin Butler x Fem!Reader

Summary: Your ex has been haunting your dreams lately, though the two of you had moved on long ago, you couldn't help but let you mind wander about what would happen if you reached out to him.

an: hi, I haven't written anything in so long, but I have been absolutely obsessed with the Elvis movie. (I was a fan since I was in middle school) and now since Austin is so damn beautiful I knew I needed to write something. I hope you like it, this is a series but probably won't run too long. Sorry for any mistakes. (Also I created the header for it, please give credit if you use it, though its not hard to make so....)

Warnings: Smut! Right in the beginning. If you are under 18 DO NOT INTERACTE!! Cheating; I DO NOT CONDONE CHEATING!! it just makes the story a bit more juicy.

Words: 913

Your hips were thrusted against the wall as his hand came  up to graze your neck , you clenched your jaw painfully, your teeth grinding shut, trying to hold back the moan fighting to burst out of your chest. “That’s right.” He practically growled against your neck as he thrust into you with no warning. “You have to be quiet, don’t you?” His voice was rough and husky, his breath burning hot against your dripping wet skin. He almost stopped all movement as he waited for your response, your weak nod was all he needed to grip your hip  harder. “But you like this, you want to cry out my name.” He implied as his cock pulsed from inside you, he was right of course, you wanted nothing but to scream out his name. But you couldn’t.

You can’t.

He hummed against the skin of your neck as one of your legs wrapped around him, begging to get as close to him as possible.

“Go ahead baby, say my name.” You could feel the familiar coil in your stomach tighten as your eyes rolled back. “A-Austin.”

With a jolt to your body you woke up in your bed sitting upwards, a slight mist of sweat covered your forehead as you caught your breath. Once you looked around your room you sighed, rubbing your face with your hand. You glanced at your partner in bed sound asleep, you grabbed at your phone to look at the time. 4 in the morning. You flopped back down against your bed; it was slightly damp from your dream.

You felt a pang of guilt course through you as you thought back on this dream, as well as the three others you’ve had over the past month.

Why was this happening?

The first one was so innocent, as innocent as your mind would go at least. It was Austin in front of you, you were unsure of where you were, like most of the dreams that involved him. He had you in a corner, his arm resting behind you on the wall, it felt like you were in conversation but couldn’t remember a thing that was said, he seemed almost enthralled by what you were saying. When he leaned down to press a sweet kiss against your lips in the middle of your sentence. They felt exactly how you remembered, oh so soft and tantalizing, the background around you faded into static as his lips met yours and you kissed him back, your hands at your sides, you didn’t even touch him, but you still woke up with an almost violent jump.

You looked over at your boyfriend Adam, the two of you have been together for almost 5 years, long after you and Austin had ended things, and though they were all only dreams you couldn’t help but feel like you were doing him wrong. You reached over and gently brushed your fingers against his bicep, he stirred only slightly as you took your hand back and watched him sleep peacefully.

You looked up at your ceiling before tightly closing your eyes, wishing for sleep to overtake you once more but gave up after a few minutes of tossing and turning.

You slid your phone off the nightstand and into your hand.

You had spoken to many friends about these dreams haunting you so often. A few had told you they meant nothing, but your mind couldn’t help but swim, why now was he appearing in your dreams, after so many years of being apart, of seeing him only here and there only for him to either not see you or ignore you all together? After one friend had confirmed your aching thoughts that it must mean something,  you were convinced that was all you needed to divulge yourself in him and these dreams.

You flipped through your phone mindlessly hoping it would make your brain go blank and you could sleep once more. But the more you dug around, the higher your heart rate had gone up. You knew he wasn’t really on most social media. Of course him, himself was everywhere lately with his new movie roll making headlines everywhere, but he barely posted on Instagram, he wasn’t on Facebook as no one really is anymore.

You felt the need to see if you could reach out to him in some way, that would calm your mind and you could let it go. But as you scrolled you felt like your search was in vain. 40 minutes had passed since you originally woke up, it would only be a few more hours till your alarm went off.

Your body was begging for sleep, but your mind stayed abuzz. At one point you were ready to call it quits, you were tired of flipping through empty pages but, as you were going through your archived Facebook messages you finally found something. It was your old conversations, at least some of them. You had long ago lost his number that you used to text often, but sometimes the two of you would converse through messenger and here were the few conversations.

Your eyes glided through the messages, the few I love you’s made your heart feel weighted, the cute talks of him on his way to pick you up. Your brain fought over your heart; still stuck on the dreams you’ve held. Your jaw clenched as your fingers hovered over your keyboard. You typed the smallest message.

Hi

~~~~~~~~~~~

Part One >>

[sunflowervolvimp3]

42 Hours (II)

Content: part 2 to an enemies to lovers au in which Harry and Y/N are forced into a cross country road trip to make it to their best friends’ wedding on time!! includes a karaoke bar in Cleveland, Ohio, sharing of motel rooms (oh my god there was only one bed 👁️👁️), and a lesbian wedding in the Catskills

Warnings: language, alcohol, NSFW content, making fun of Nebraska and The Notebook

Pairing: Harry Styles x reader

Word Count: 32k

A/N: okay can I just say that I am so glad this is finally done. I have been working on this fic for over a month!!! the entire thing is over 51k in length!!!!!! my word doc is almost 100 pages!!!! this was meant to be a fun story about enemies to lovers stuck on a road trip!!!!! what happened!!!! but thank you guys so much for all the love and support and interest in this story <3 I was really nervous about splitting it up (which looking back was a good choice because again. it’s so long.) but you all showed so much love for the story and the characters!!!! I’d like to give a special shout out to miss andrea @adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy​ and miss alex @darthstyles​ for proof reading, and miss andrea again for this pretty header image!! if you’re looking for any good reads after this, I highly recommend checking out their masterlists!! and as always, if you like this fic, please like it AND reblog it!! and shoot me a message about it!! feedback is always appreciated, not just by me, but by ALL content creators, and is the main motivation for us to create more for you all to enjoy!!

{masterlist}

{masterlist}

here is everyone’s wedding looks!! and HERE is a lil moodboard of Jo and Laure’s wedding so you can sense the vibes!!

also!! if you want to set the mood for a road trip with Harry, here is a link to the playlist that is mentioned and referenced in this fic!!

It’s almost instantaneous, Y/N notices, how quickly and easily she and Harry fall into a rhythm of friendship. From the moment she wakes up the next morning to a blue sky, the storm long passed, and Harry holding out a cup of black coffee for her, the stress and anxiety of the previous day is gone. There’s no watching herself around Harry, biting her tongue to stop herself from snapping over every small motion he makes as he fidgets in the driver’s seat.  There’s no irritation caused by the way he taps his fingers on the steering wheel, or how he asks any question that crosses his mind, speaking out his random chain of thoughts just as often.  

The thing that Y/N’s come to realize is that Harry is so much more interesting than she’d ever thought. He’s certainly more interesting than the endless fields of corn that whip by her window as he drives down the interstate.  His jokes are dumb, but he says them with such a big grin on his face that she can’t help but laugh.  His comments are strange, but Y/N finds herself enjoying the weird words that slip from his mouth without being caught by a filter.

“If we were in a Children of The Corn situation,” Harry begins, raising his voice to be heard over the sounds of Simon and Garfunkel. “Do you think you’d be able to outsmart the cult?  Or would you get sacrificed to He Who Walks Behind the Rows?”

Y/N half chokes on the bottle of water she’d just raised to her lips, and coughs the liquid from her lungs as she turns to give Harry an incredulous look. “Excuse me?”

“We’re in Nebraska. That’s where it takes place, right?” Harry asks, glancing at Y/N from behind his sunglasses. “There’s, like, a weird child cult, and they kill all the adults in town for the corn harvest, or something, and then this couple on a road trip discovers them, and tries to stop them.  Do you think you’d be able to?”

“Do I think I’d be able to stop a child cult?  Or would I get sacrificed to their weird corn god?  That’s what you’re asking me?” Although she can’t help but snort at the ridiculousness of the question, her mind is already appraising the situation Harry’s proposed. “I think I’d be able to stop them.  They’re just kids, right?  You just can’t be afraid to—you know—” Y/N drags her thumb across her throat, and Harry quirks up an eyebrow at her casual response.

“You’d kill a bunch of kids?”

“If the kids were evil and wanted to kill me?  Absolutely.” Y/N leans her head back on the head rest, still keeping her eyes locked on Harry. “Wouldn’t you?”

Harry lifts one shoulder in response. “I don’t know.  I’d try to reason with them, I think.”

Y/N extends a finger gun at him, clicking her tongue in sync with the motion. “And that’s why they’d sacrifice you and not me.”

Harry laughs, shaking his head slowly as he turns his attention back to the road. “Lovely. Wouldn’t you try to save me?”

Y/N hums, pretending to think the question over. “That depends on how annoying you’ve been that day.”

“You’re such a sweetheart, Y/N, you really are.” Harry laughs more, but stops abruptly as he spots a sign to the right of the road. “Oh!  There’s a souvenir shop at the next exit!”

A groan falls from Y/N’s mouth as her head flops back, already sensing defeat. “No, Harry, you don’t need another keychain—”

“You don’t know that! Maybe I could get a corn stalk keychain!”

…

“You know, I could drive for a bit.  If you’d like.”

Harry looks up at Y/N with an apprehensive gaze, his nimble fingers halfway through attaching a new silver key chain in the shape of Nebraska to his key ring. “What?”

“You’ve been driving for three days straight.” Y/N leans over the passenger side of the car, resting her arms on the sun-warmed roof. “I could drive.  I know how to; I just don’t do it in L.A. because the traffic is annoying. But the interstate is practically empty, so…”

“Uh, no offense, Y/N, but…” Harry opens the drivers door, a small smile curving the corner of his lip. “No one drives Stevie but me.  And besides, she’s a stick.  Have you ever driven one?”

“Well, no.” Y/N admits, catching her bottom lip between her teeth. “But you could show me.”

Harry inhales deeply, glancing around the souvenir shop parking lot.  Y/N can tell he’s surveying the area, searching for a reason to say no, but as far as she can tell, there isn’t one.  There are no other cars around, and the area is mostly flat, giving her a good space to practice driving in.  With a defeated look on his face, Harry exhales sharply and gives a quick nod as he takes a step back from the driver’s side. “Fine.  Get in.”

Y/N and Harry swap sides in the car, although Y/N is much more enthusiastic about it than Harry is. From the moment she climbs in and begins adjusting his seat, a pained look comes over Harry’s face, making her roll her eyes.

“Oh, come on.  You’re a giant, Harry, I have to adjust things so I can reach the pedals.” Y/N scoffs, reaching up to adjust the rear view mirror. “You can put them all back later.”

“Yeah.” Harry sucks in another breath before pushing his sunglasses up into his chestnut curls. “Okay, so…there’s three pedals on the floor.  The right one is gas, the middle is the brake, and the left is the clutch. And then here—” Harry takes Y/N’s right hand and places it over the gear shift. “This is how you shift.  There’s six gears, right?  And their use depends on the speed you’re going, so you’re going to start with one—” His hand squeezes hers as he shifts the gear shift over and up to the left with ease. “Which is here.  Here’s two—” He shifts the gear shift down to the left, and continues to move it as he speaks. “Three.  Four.  Five. And reverse.  Got it?”

“I think so.” Y/N nods, her hand flexing beneath Harry’s large palm.  His rings feel cool against her warm skin, and she has to admit, it’s not the worst feeling in the world. “Up left, down left, up middle, down middle, up right, down right.  Right?”

“Right.” Harry lifts his hand off hers to point towards her feet, which are sitting on the carpet cover in front of the pedals. “You want to start with your foot pressed firmly on the clutch, the one—yeah.  There, to the left.  Keep it pressed there.  Is it pressed there?”

“Since you first told me to press it, yeah.” Y/N furrows her brow in concentration, which is caused both from learning how to drive manually, and the effort it takes to stop herself from laughing at the nervousness in Harry’s voice. “Now what?”

“Take off the parking brake.” Harry pulls the lever down himself, making sure Y/N is focused on her other movements. “And the car is in neutral, so you can turn the key in the ignition.” He holds out his keys towards her.

Y/N takes the cool metal from his hands, quickly finding the right key for the Impala and slipping it in. The car roars to life, a sound which is now familiar to her ears. “Okay.  There.”

“Good.” Harry pauses for a moment before reaching across Y/N’s body and buckling her seatbelt, which she had forgotten in the excitement to drive. “Safety first.” He sits back in the passenger seat, fixing his seatbelt across his own body. “I have a feeling we’ll be needing these.”

“Oh, shut up.” Y/N sticks her tongue out at him, her eyebrows and nose wrinkling as she makes a face. “What do I do now?”

“Now…” Harry fidgets with his seatbelt again as he moves forward in the passenger seat, one hand bracing against the dash as he directs her. “Press the clutch and the brake at the same time, like that.  Now move the gear shift into first gear.”

Y/N does as he says, pushing the gear shift over and up to the left.  It takes much more pressure for her to move it without Harry’s help, she notes, but doesn’t let the effort show on her face. “Then?”

“Take your foot off the brake.” Harry instructs, caution laced through his voice. “And slowly—slowly! —release the clutch as you press down gently on the gas.”

“Okay…” Lifting her left foot first, Y/N does her best to match the motion with her right foot, pressing down at the same pace as she lifts the other.  Her movement, however, isn’t as smooth as she wants it to be, and the car lunges forward in a choppy motion.

“Careful!” Harry says loudly, twisting his body to face Y/N as he continues bracing himself.  His entire body is tense, his shoulders practically up by his ears as he appraises Y/N. “You have to do it at the same time!”

“Alright, alright—” Y/N tries again, focusing on matching her feet to each other.  This time, the movement is smoother, and the car begins to drive forward slowly, moving faster as Y/N presses down more. “Is that—am I doing it?” Y/N asks nervously, navigating herself slowly through the parking lot. “Is that it?”

“That’s it.  You’re doing good, yeah.” Harry nods slowly, but Y/N can see the strain in his jaw from the corner of her eye. “Now let’s try…let’s try shifting gears, so you can speed up.”

“Try not to sound so terrified.” Y/N mutters, turning the wheel to guide the car around a lamp post.

Harry ignores her comment. “You’re going to do the same motion, but this time release the gas while pressing down on the clutch.  Then move the gear shifter to two, like before, and—”

Before Harry can finish speaking, Y/N attempts to change into second gear.  The car lurches again as she releases the gas and presses on the clutch, and the jagged motion only gets worse after she shifts into second.

“Slowly, Y/N—” Agitation is clear in Harry’s voice, and his knuckles turn white as he grips the dash. “Slower!”

Another lunge of the car shifts Y/N to the side, and her foot slips off the clutch completely. With a sickening sound, the car lurches to a stop, despite Y/N’s foot still pressed on the gas.  “What—?”

Harry, who’s been wincing throughout the entire ordeal, sucks in a sharp breath. “You stalled her.” He says, shaking his head with a quiet horror.

Y/N tugs on her bottom lip as she glances at him from the corner of her eye, her voice hesitant. “Is…that bad?”

“Is that—?” Harry’s green irises snap to meet hers, wide open and shocked. “Yeah, it’s bad. That’s enough practice for today, I think.  I’m driving again.”

Y/N tries to protest. “But—”

“Nope!  Out!” Harry shakes his head firmly, unbuckling his seatbelt and exiting the car in one swift motion. “Come on!”

With a defeated sigh, Y/N unbuckles herself, climbing out of the driver’s door that Harry’s just opened for her.  “Sorry.” She mumbles, walking around to the passenger’s side and climbing back in.

Harry gives her a small smile, albeit a pained one, as he begins to move his feet over the brake and clutch, shifting the car into neutral. “It’s fine.  That was pretty good for a first practice, really. Just…maybe it’s too soon for highway driving.”

Y/N buckles her seatbelt as Harry restarts the engine, and within a few minutes, he has his signal flipped back on to head back to the highway. “You know, mostly I wanted to drive so that I could pick the music.” She says casually, resting her chin in her hand after propping it up against the arm rest. “I’m getting a little tired of The Beatles on repeat.”

Harry laughs, raking his hand through his curls before shifting gears with ease. “Oh really?  What would you put on, if you had a choice?”

“I don’t know.” Y/N shrugs, taking a moment to think. “We could listen to a nice sonata, maybe. Oh!  Or Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake.  I haven’t listened to it in full in a while.”

A sound of surprise and indignation leaves Harry’s mouth. “Tchaikovsky—?  No!  No, you can’t listen to classical music on a road trip!  You need music that you can scream the lyrics to!”

“Is there a rulebook about what you can and can’t listen to on a road trip?” Y/N raises an eyebrow as she poses the sarcastic question. “I wasn’t aware.”

“There’s an unofficial rulebook, yes.” Harry risks a glance over at Y/N, his green eyes alight. “And one of the most important—if not the most important—rules is that any song you listen to has to be able to be sung loudly while driving down a highway. Everyone knows that.”

“My bad.” Y/N says sarcastically, toeing off her shoes to better cross her legs beneath herself. “So, in short, we’re stuck listening to your playlist, huh?”

“Now you get it.” Harry shoots her a cheeky grin, pointing with his free hand. “You can change the song, though.  If you’d like.”

“Really?” Y/N reaches down to the small catch all tray between them, where Harry’s phone sits connected to a car charger.  She picks it up carefully, raising an eyebrow in question. “May I?”

When Harry nods, Y/N clicks on the screen, which displays the controls to the Spotify playlist currently being projected through the car’s speakers.  Unsurprisingly, a Beatles song is moving across the scene, causing Y/N to press the skip button immediately.  The next song is by The Killers, called “Spaceman,” and while she likes it, it’s not really something she feels like listening to in the moment. She hits skip again, passing over “Night Moves,” “Piano Man,” and “Seven Wonders,” (the last skip earning a sound of protest from Harry) before a familiar album cover pops up on the screen.

“Hold on.” Y/N says, mouth agape as the 1990s Vocoder sound fills the car. “You listen to Cher?”

“Are you kidding?” Harry’s surprised expression matches hers. “Of course!  She’s a treasure.” He taps his fingers to the beat of “Believe” while his head bops to the same pattern. “I love this song.  It’s a good one.”

Making a sound of agreement, Y/N lets her gaze drift to the window, watching the agriculture fields that whiz by. “Yeah.” She murmurs, losing herself in the beat. “‘No matter how hard I try…you keep pushing me aside’…”

“‘And I can’t break through’…” Harry’s voice joins with hers, louder and surer of himself than hers had been. “‘There’s no talking to you’…”

Y/N’s head turns from the window, locking eyes with Harry for the split second he looks away from the road ahead of them. “‘It’s so sad that you’re leaving…it takes time to believe it’…”

“‘But after all is said and done’…” The grin playing on Harry’s pink lips grows, popping out his dimples as he continues to sing. “‘You’re gonna be the lonely one’…”

With a grin pasted across her own face, so big that her cheeks ache, Y/N joins Harry for the chorus, yelling the lyrics more than singing them. “‘Do you believe in life after love?  I can feel something inside me say…I really don’t think you’re strong enough’!” Harry’s hand drifts down to the volume dial, turning the music up until the bass thumps through the entire car.  Y/N can feel it in her chest like a second heart beat.

“‘Do you believe in life after love?’” Encouraged by each other, Harry and Y/N scream the lyrics even louder on the repeat, straining their necks as much as their vocal cords. “‘I can feel something inside me say…I really don’t think you’re strong enough’!”

When Harry’s hand moves again, Y/N thinks that he’s reaching for the dial again, perhaps to turn it down, but then his hand makes a questioning motion, and Y/N realizes that Harry, ever the one for dramatics, is acting out the lines.

“‘What was I supposed to do?  Sit around and wait for you?’” Harry points at Y/N then, an exaggerated look on his face as his whole body moves to the beat. “‘Well I can’t do that!  And there’s no turning back’…”

Not wanting to be one upped, Y/N pushes up the sleeve of her sweater, exposing her wrist enough that she can tap on it. “‘I need time to move on’…” A fit of giggles interrupt the next line as she and Harry both raise their arms to flex their muscles. “‘I need a love to feel strong’…” Y/N taps on her temple as she sways her body to the beat the best she can in the car. “‘Because I’ve got time to think it through’…” When she turns to point at Harry, she finds him already pointing at her, once again in sync with her thoughts. “‘And maybe I’m too good for you, oh’!”

They repeat the chorus in the same way as before, screaming the lyrics as loud as they can, pulling dramatic facial expressions and dance moves to match.  Halfway through the repeat, Harry attempts to mimic the classic Cher move of pushing hair over the shoulder, and the ridiculous sight is enough to send Y/N into another fit of laughter.  She almost misses the entrance for the bridge, but recovers just in time to yell the lyrics in sync with Harry.

Forming fists and dragging her arms towards her dramatically, and Harry doing the same with his free hand, the two of them screw their faces up as they sing passionately. “‘Well I know that I’ll get through this…because I know that I am strong’…” The flexing of arms returns for a moment before being replaced by impassioned pleading hand gestures. “‘I don’t need you anymore…I don’t need you anymore…no, I don’t need you anymore…no, I don’t need you anymore’…”

Although they’d been energetic in the previous choruses, Harry and Y/N give their all for the final chorus, bouncing and yelling and gesturing as much as they can as they drive down the interstate at sixty-five miles per hour.  They quiet for a moment as the beat falls out, singing the lyrics at a slightly lower volume, but when the beat returns, they scream the lyrics one final time in unison before the music fades out.

The song changes to “Baby Driver,” and Harry reaches to lower the volume as he and Y/N both struggle to catch their breath.  They laugh between pants, hands on chests as they rapidly rise and fall.  Y/N lets her head fall back against the back of the seat, shifting her legs so only one rests on the seat beneath her thigh.

“That was a good one.” She admits, pushing her now-sweaty hair out of her face. “I’ll give you that. Cher was a good choice.”

“Do you see what I meant, now?” Harry asks breathlessly, his grin still plastered to his face. “Do you still want to listen to Tchaikovsky?”

In lieu of a reply, Y/N reaches for Harry’s phone again, skipping songs until “Jessie’s Girl” begins to drift through the speakers. “Turn it up again, Harry.”

There’s a twinkle in Harry’s eyes when he does as she says.

…

“I can sleep on the floor.” Harry volunteers, tugging his hand through his stretched out curls as his eyes scan the interior of the motel room. “Make a little bed out of pillows.  Then you can have the bed.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Harry.” Y/N shakes her head adamantly, setting her bag on the small table in front of the room’s mirror. “You can’t sleep on the floor!”

Harry purses his lips. “I’ll take the chair, then.  I can stretch out on it—”

“Please, you have limbs like Gumby.” Rolling her eyes, Y/N unzips her bag and pulls out her toiletries. “You can’t sleep comfortably in a chair.  We can deal with one bed for one night.  It’s not the end of the world.”

Four days ago, Y/N might have considered having to share a bed with Harry the end of the world.  If someone had told her about the lack of available motel rooms on the road, Y/N might have never left L.A.  And that first night in Utah, she remembers, she would have rather smother Harry in his sleep than share a bed with him.  Now, however, they’re in Iowa City, and for all her talk of how much she despised Harry before, she’s found herself quite fond of him in a short period of time.

There’s a list of reasons why that’s happened, she thinks, as she pulls out her charger to plug into the wall.  Their forced close proximity in the car and motel rooms probably has something to do with it, as well as Harry being her only company for the last four days.  And maybe, just maybe, a small part of it is due to the way Harry looks in the dim motel room light as he flops back on the bed, his red and black striped t-shirt riding up just the slightest bit to expose the fern tattoos lining the bottom of his stomach.  The way his jade irises manage to sparkle in the light of the lamp, or how his chipped nail polish still manages to look elegant as his fingers dance along his chest and twist his rings over his knuckles.  The way his lips, despite his constant habit of biting them, look so soft and so pink, and how Y/N thinks she could just—

Y/N clears her throat, stopping her thoughts in their tracks.  It’s really been too long since she’s been around another human being, she thinks, keeping her back to Harry as she roots through her suitcase for her pajamas. Four days is too long for her to be with the same person, with hardly any alone time, and she’s wondering if she’ll be able to have alone time any time soon when her fingers brush over the familiar smooth silicone surface of her vibrator.

Y/N pauses, pulling her fingers back as if she’s been burned.  Right.  She’d tossed that in there just before leaving L.A., just in case she needed some stress relief.  Glancing back over her shoulder subtly, Y/N sees that Harry has his phone out now, his nimble fingers tapping along the screen as he lays on the bed.  Maybe some stress relief is exactly what she needs.

Grabbing the first articles of clothing she can get her hands on, Y/N carefully wraps her vibrator within the fabric, trying to fold it so that it doesn’t look like its hiding a small purple sex toy.  Once that’s done to the best of her ability, she grabs her toiletry bag, tucking it under her arm as she quickly makes her way to the bathroom.

“I’m going to shower.” She mutters, closing the door behind her without waiting for Harry’s response.

Although the ritual of stripping from her clothes, starting the shower and adjusting the temperature settings, and relaxing her muscles underneath the (albeit low pressure) stream of water is familiar, it takes Y/N a few minutes to work up the courage to run her hands down the length of her body.  She takes her time as her fingers dance over the planes of her breasts, down her stomach, fluttering over her hips before making their way to the crevice where her thighs flow into her core.  Taking a deep breath, Y/N begins with just her fingers, running them through her wet folds slowly and carefully.

She allows herself the time to warm herself up, waiting until she can dip her index finger inside her slick entrance and circle its way around her clit before grabbing her vibrator from the shower ledge.  She flicks it on to its lowest setting, making sure the electronic buzz is hidden beneath the sound of the shower before gently circling the tip around her clit.

The relief, Y/N finds, is instantaneous.  A breathless sigh slips past her lips as she rubs the toy over her folds, delighting in the fluttering sensation it leaves behind.  Without breaking contact, Y/N turns the toy up a level, biting her lip to keep from moaning as she presses it back to her clit.

Despite the tension building up in her body as Y/N works herself to an orgasm, this is the most relaxed she’s felt in days.  The tension, she finds, is so much sweeter than the anxiety and stress she’s been experiencing throughout the road trip.  Although her shoulders tense, it’s different than the knots worked into her muscles from hours in the car.  Although her leg feels as though it may cramp from its position perched on the bath tub ledge, the burn is more welcome than the ache of being stuck in one seated position.

If someone were to ask her what crossed her mind when Y/N brought herself over the edge, what thoughts drifted into her head as she gripped the wall of the shower with one hand as her core convulsed in the most delightfully sinful way, Y/N would tell them that it was nothing specific.  Strong hands, she’d say, smoothly and knowledgeably caressing her body.  A low voice whispering dirty nothings in her ear. A deep breath flowing down her neck as cherry lips and white teeth nipped and kissed down her skin and across her collar bones.  Nothing specific.  And Y/N would believe it when she’d say it.

But if anyone were to be listening at the exact moment that she thrust the vibrator inside her, panting and whimpering as her index and middle finger worked over her clit and brought her to climax, they’d hear the breathless whisper of a name that Y/N herself didn’t even know she was saying.

The nice thing about getting off in the shower, Y/N thinks, once she’s regained enough function in her head to do so, is that cleanup is a breeze.  Within fifteen more minutes, Y/N’s washed her body, shampooed and conditioned her hair, and is climbing out of the shower with the motel towel wrapped tightly around her body.  Within another few minutes, she’s towel dried to the best of her ability, and finally realizing that the pajamas she’d grabbed in her quick bid for the washroom happened to be the pink silk set that she’d tucked at the bottom of her suitcase four days ago.

Cheeks burning, Y/N weighs her options.  She could wrap the towel around herself, she thinks, and instruct Harry to look away as she snuck back to her suitcase and grabbed the sports bra and boxers she’d been sleeping in for the past few nights.  Or…she runs her fingers over the lace trim of the set.  These pajamas were quite comfortable, and the silk would feel so nice on her body after multiple nights of scratching motel sheets.  And, if she’s being honest with herself, her other pajamas are quite dirty from a new nights of use.  Now that her body feels completely relaxed and clean, she’d like to put on something to match.

When she steps out of the bathroom, Y/N does her best to seem casual and calm, still running her towel through her set hair, her clothes and toiletry bag (where she’s hidden her vibrator) tucked under one arm. “The shower’s free.” She says to Harry, barely glancing at him as she returns her items to her bag. “Although the water pressure is pretty shit.”

A low chuckle echoes from Harry’s mouth. “I expect nothing less.” He says, and Y/N thinks she may be in the clear when the laughter stops abruptly.

Biting back a sigh, Y/N straightens her back, knowing that she can’t avoid the conversation forever. “What?” She asks, tossing her towel on the motel room chair.

Harry is sitting up on the bed, his phone still held loosely in his right hand as his left props his body into an upright position.  As his eyes scan over Y/N’s body, his tongue darts out of his mouth, wetting his lips without Harry being aware he’s doing it. “What—” His voice cracks, and a flush creeps up Harry’s pale neck as he clears his throat. “What are you wearing?”

Y/N begins to comb her fingers through her hair, sectioning it off before she begins to braid. “Pajamas.”

A scoff leaves Harry’s mouth. “No, no, those aren’t pajamas.  That’s…lingerie.”

“Yeah, well…I brought them as pajamas.” Y/N mumbles, twisting her hair into the desired pattern before tying it off with the ponytail on her wrist. “Look, I—my other ones are dirty, and I didn’t want to put a sweaty sports bra back on right after showering.  But…if it makes you uncomfortable, then I can—”

“I’m not uncomfortable.” Harry cuts over her, giving a quick shake of his head. “I just—we’re sharing the bed tonight, so I wasn’t sure—as long as you’re comfortable—”

“I am.” Y/N says quickly, cheeks beginning to burn as the conversation continues. “I’m comfortable.”

“Alright then.” If Harry’s cheeks are any indication, then he’s feeling the same thing Y/N is. “I’m…going to shower, then.”

And that’s how, two hours later, after watching a rerun of When Harry Met Sally, Y/N ends up in bed next to Harry Styles in lingerie that she’d bought to impress her ex-boyfriend.

Harry, to his credit, is doing his best to draw a line between them.  His lanky body is practically hanging off the edge of the bed with how far he’s pulled himself from her, his defined back turned towards Y/N. Her own posture mimics his, back turned from Harry, clinging to the edge of the bed in an attempt to respect his personal space.  The problem, Y/N thinks, exhaling hard as she shifts under the covers, is that she doesn’t like sleeping on her side like this, and she especially doesn’t like tensing up to make sure her limbs stay in their designated zone.  It feels awkward and uncomfortable, and after laying in bed for over an hour, she finally huffs before turning onto her back, her hands settling down over the sheets.

“Harry.” She whispers, twisting her head to the side as she struggles to make out the shape of his body in the dark. “Are you awake?”

The bed creaks as Harry’s body shifts towards her, twisting on his hip to be able to meet Y/N’s eyes. “Yeah.  Can’t sleep.”

“Me either.” Y/N rolls over again, propping herself up on her side to face him as he matches the motion. They’re closer now, their faces about six inches away as they rest their heads on their pillows.  Y/N can smell the mint of Harry’s toothpaste on his breath. “Why can’t you sleep?”

Harry shrugs one shoulder as best he can while horizontal. “Dunno.” He mumbles, voice low in the quiet darkness. “Don’t think I’m used to sharing a bed with someone and not…being close to them.”

“Yeah.” Y/N matches the tone of her voice to his, as if speaking quietly and gently will preserve whatever it is hanging between them. “Feels weird.”

Moving his hands from his chest to tuck them under his pillow, Harry worries his bottom lip between his teeth, a nervous look apparent in his eyes even in the darkness. “Would it be okay if I moved closer?” He asks, caution written into every word. “It’s just—staying on the edge isn’t very comfortable.”

Four days ago, Y/N would have shoved him off the bed.  Now, however, she finds herself nodding, pulling her top leg into a bent position, her bare knee brushing over Harry’s beneath the sheets. “That’s fine.”

Y/N watches the way Harry’s body visibly relaxes, the tension she didn’t even know he had leaving his body.  Trying his best to move without disturbing her, Harry turns over to lay on his toned stomach, and the sheets pull down around his body enough that Y/N can see how his Rolling Stones t-shirt has ridden up his back.  Without thinking, Y/N pulls one hand from beneath her pillow and reaches for the sheets, pulling them back around Harry to his mid back.

“Thanks.” His voice is raspy, half muffled by the pillow as he tucks his hands beneath his head, eyes still locked with hers with an intensity that, during daylight hours, would have made her cheeks burn.

But in the safety of the darkness, Y/N simply returns her hand to its previous position, allowing the lack of light to masquerade the concern written onto her face. “You’re welcome.”

…

“I’m not saying The Notebook is a bad movie, I’m just saying that it doesn’t make sense!”

Harry gives Y/N an incredulous look as he flips on his turn signal, shifting gears in the car so he can exit the highway and head towards a gas station. “What do you mean, it doesn’t make sense?” He demands, turning the car over the curve of the road. “They’re in love!  Noah reads to Ally to help her remember that!  What about that doesn’t make sense?”

“Well, the dialogue for one.” Y/N shrugs, tapping her fingers to the beat of “Heroes” that’s drifting through the speakers.

Harry scoffs as he pulls into an empty gas station, slowing the car to a gentle stop in front of a pump. “Give me one example of the dialogue not making sense!”

“‘If you’re a bird, I’m a bird’?” Y/N raises an eyebrow as she quotes the movie. “What the fuck does that mean?”

“What do you mean, what does it mean?” Harry demands, shifting the car into neutral and pulling the emergency brake before turning off the ignition. “It’s romantic!  It’s talking about—about reincarnation, and past lives—”

“And what about how Noah and Ally first met, huh?  She was on a date with someone else!  She wasn’t interested in him!” As she rants, Y/N’s volume grows, almost drowning out David Bowie completely. “And then he climbed up a Ferris wheel, demanded that she go out with him, and said that if she didn’t, he was going to kill himself!”

Harry points an accusatory finger at her, his expression fierce. “Don’t!  It was romantic—”

Y/N pushes his finger away, holding her stance adamantly. “It was creepy!  And don’t even get me started on the arguments, and the lying, and—and she was engaged to someone else!  Noah was a homewrecker!”

Harry takes a deep breath, squeezing his keys in his hand as his eyes close for a moment. “I’m going to fill Stevie with petrol.” He says, his tone careful and controlled. “And when I get back, I am going to give you a very long lecture on why you’re wrong.”

Y/N rolls her eyes as she grabs Harry’s sunglasses from the cupholder next to her, slipping them onto her face as she sticks her tongue out at him. “Whatever.  Go pump the gas, Styles.”

With one last withering look, Harry climbs out of the car and slams the door behind him, turning his attention to the rusted gas pump in the middle of nowhere along the Illinois interstate.  Y/N can’t help but laugh at the irritated look on his face, and how he flips her the bird when he catches her laughing.  Small giggles still roll through her as she turns her attention to Harry’s phone, choosing a new song as David Bowie slowly begins to fade out. She’s just begun scrolling through her options when her own phone begins to vibrate from where she has it tucked underneath her leg.

Y/N sets Harry’s phone back down on his seat as she grabs her own, her eyes widening when she sees Brant’s name lighting up her screen.  She should answer, she thinks, as she hasn’t spoken to him in person since their conversation in Colorado.  That conversation seems like a lifetime ago, and Y/N’s thumb hovers over the “accept” icon, her teeth tugging her bottom lip over and over.  She should answer.  She should.  Brant will probably want to discuss work, and find out when she’s coming back so they can plan another dinner, because he always likes to schedule things at least a week in advance.  He’ll tell her about his coworkers, what the weather in L.A. has been like (as if it ever changes), and maybe, just maybe, if he has time, he’ll tell her about a new Netflix series he’s just starting to watch.  Y/N should answer.

The driver’s side door opens with a creak, and Harry bends down to poke his head inside. “Alright, I’m going to go inside the petrol station and get us some snacks, and then I’m going to explain to you exactly how wrong you are.” He says firmly, mouth pressed into a flat line of determination.  His expression falters for just a moment as he sees the conflicted look on Y/N’s face. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Y/N says quickly, pressing “ignore” and tucking her phone back under her leg. “Just go get the snacks while I create my counterargument, alright?”

Harry rolls his eyes, reaching into the car and pulling his sunglasses off Y/N’s face.  He slips them over his own eyes, his expression back to its determined look. “Fine.  Do you want Cheezies?”

“Uh huh.  The crunchy ones!” Y/N reminds him, grabbing his phone from the seat again to continue selecting a new song.

“Right.  The crunchy ones.” Harry shoots her a finger gun as he shuts the car door. “You can eat them as I prove you wrong!”

“You wish!” Y/N yells back, the phone call all but forgotten as she watches Harry walk into the gas station.

…

“We should go out tonight.”

Y/N sets her duffel bag on the queen-sized bed situated in the center of the motel room, giving Harry a confused look as she registers his words. “Go out?” She asks, tugging on the zipper of the bag. “Go out where?”

“To a bar.” Harry flops down on the bed next to her bag, leaning back on his elbows as he speaks. “All we’ve done this entire trip is drive, and we’re getting to the Catskills tomorrow.  We can have a bit of fun tonight, can’t we?”

Y/N snorts as she rifles through her bag, pulling out her phone charger and favourite book. “It’s a road trip; driving is the point, isn’t it?  Besides, what kind of bars are in Cleveland, Ohio?”

Harry shrugs lightly. “We passed a sign for one on our way into town.  And we haven’t had dinner yet, so we should go get something to eat anyways.  And I haven’t had a pint in forever.”

“I doubt you’ll like the pints from a dive bar in Cleveland, Harry.” Y/N rolls her eyes as she plugs her charger into the wall. “I don’t think they’ll be up to your standards.”

“That’s for me to decide, isn’t it?” Harry matches her eye roll with ease before turning his expression into something more endearing. “Please?  We don’t have to stay too long if you don’t want to!”

Y/N sighs as she sits down on the bed next to him. “Harry—”

“Just one drink!” Harry pleads, pouting out his bottom lip. “Please?  To celebrate not killing each other on this trip?”

In spite of herself, a small laugh falls from Y/N’s mouth. “The trip’s not over yet, Harry.  Don’t count your eggs before they hatch.”

“Y/N…” Harry whines, turning onto his side as he looks up at her. “Come on!”

Y/N tugs her lip between her teeth as she looks down at Harry.  It’s true, she thinks, that all they’ve done for the last five days is drive and sleep in motels.  Maybe they could use a break before tomorrow’s final day.  And they’ve been getting along so well today that Y/N would hate to put a damper on their moods now…

“Fine.” She relents, ignoring how there’s a turning feeling in her stomach when she sees Harry’s green eyes light up. “But just one drink!”

…

“I’ll take another Old Fashioned, please!” Y/N says to the waitress, raising her voice to be heard over the man singing a bad cover of “Take on Me” on the small bar stage. “And—Harry, do you want another?”

Harry bites back a laugh, barely managing to cover it with a cough as the waitress turns to him. “Uh, yes, please.” He smiles charmingly, flashing his eyes to Y/N between his words. “I’ll have another pint.”

With a quick nod, the waitress begins to work her way from their table to the bar, pushing through the crowds of people scattered around the bar.  

Y/N leans over to Harry as she twirls her straw through the remnants of ice in her empty glass. “You picked a good bar!” She says loudly, gesturing to the people around them. “Who knew this would be the center of Cleveland’s drinking scene?”

“I did!  I have good taste!” Harry replies with a laugh, lifting his pint glass to his lips to drain the remnants. “And here I was, thinking that you’d be whining to go home after the first drink!”

There’s something about the way Harry says “home” that turns Y/N’s stomach.  Or maybe it’s the Old Fashioneds, she thinks, as she eyes the three empty glasses sitting in front of her. “Oh.  Yeah.  Maybe we should go…?”

Harry groans, waving off her suggestion without a second thought. “No!  We’re having fun!  When was the last time you went out?”

“Uh…” The alcohol makes it hard for Y/N to think back in her memory, but she does her best to focus for a few moments to search for the answer. “I think…a few months ago?  Jo came to visit, and we went out for drinks…”

“That’s just sad.” Harry shakes his head, feigning disappointment.  Or maybe not feigning it, Y/N thinks, because a deep sigh leaves his lips right after. “You live in L.A., a place with so much culture and so many opportunities, and you don’t take them!”

“I take opportunities just fine!” Y/N defends herself, a pout working its way onto her lips of its own volition. “I’m just busy—”

“You’re always going to be busy!” Harry argues as the waitress approaches them with their drinks. “You—thank you—” He says to her as she hands him his pint and Y/N her Old Fashioned. “You have to take time for yourself, to enjoy things!  Or else life is just going to pass you by, and soon you’ll be old and grey in your apartment, with no cool stories to tell!”

Y/N takes the straw from her previous drink and slips it in her new one. “I have stories!” She argues hotly, a flush coming over her face from both the alcohol and the argument. “I have plenty of stories!”

Harry takes a gulp from his pint, wiping away the drop of beer that drips from the corner of his mouth. “Oh yeah?  Tell me one.”

“Like—” Y/N takes a long sip of her drink. “Like now!  The story of how I had to go on a road trip with a guy I hated to make it to my best friend’s wedding on time!”

“I’m not really a fan of that title, honestly.” Harry purses his lips, his brow furrowing as he sets his pint back down on the table. “How about we call it the story of how you had to go on a road trip with a guy you hated to make it to your best friend’s wedding on time, and along the way, you and the guy actually realized that you got along pretty well, and became friends?”

A small smile plays on Y/N’s lips, and she raises her glass towards Harry. “Sounds like a plan.” She says softly, barely audible over the noise of the crowd.  Harry lifts his pint glass and clicks it against her drink.

They both take a sip of their drinks, and when Harry lowers his glass, there’s a mischievous glint in his eye that immediately makes Y/N uneasy. “I have another idea for a story.” He says, setting his glass down and pointing towards the stage. “How about the story of us singing karaoke at a bar in Cleveland, Ohio?”

Y/N snorts, half folding herself over their table as the snort turns into a full laugh. “Not a chance in hell, Styles!” She says through her laughter, tapping her fingers against the wood table top.

Harry pushes her shoulder, making her sit up again as he tries to convince her. “Come on!  We’ve been singing in the car for two days straight! There’s tons of songs we could do—”

“The car is completely different than a stage!” Y/N argues, shaking her head firmly. “No way!”

“What, are you worried about making a fool of yourself?” Harry raises an eyebrow as he gestures around the bar. “Is there anyone you know in the audience?  The audience that’s full of people who are pissed out of their minds?”

Biting her lip hard for a moment, Y/N gives a reluctant shake of her head. “No.” She mumbles, looking down. “But I just—I don’t sing karaoke.”

“And you didn’t spend five days in the car with me, either.  Until you did, and we had fun.” Harry points a ringed pointer finger at her, and the annoying glint in his eye means he knows he has her trapped. “There is literally no better place to try it than right now, in this bar, where you know no one.”

Y/N glances around the bar, appraising her surroundings.  She knows Harry has a point; besides himself, she knows not a single soul in the building.  They’ll be leaving tomorrow morning, and she won’t ever find herself in this bar—or, honestly, Cleveland, Ohio—again.  If there was ever a time to try karaoke, it would be now.  

And hasn’t this trip been full of trying new things?  New foods, new conversations, new ways of thinking…Y/N finds herself locking eyes with Harry, losing herself in his intense gaze.  Y/N’s not sure what’s swirling around in his irises, whether it’s alcohol or something else entirely, but it’s intoxicating.

Y/N lets out a harsh exhale, pulling the straw out of her drink and downing it entirely in one swift motion. She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand as she slams the glass back on the table before looking back at Harry to find a new grin pasted across his pink lips.

“Alright.” Y/N slips off her stool, stumbling for just a moment until Harry catches her elbow. “You go pick the song.” She says, pointing towards the DJ near the stage. “I-I’m going to run to the bathroom.”

Harry nods, catching his lip between his teeth as his hand squeezes her arm. “Are you alright?  You stumbled there—”

“I’m fine!  Perfect, actually.” Y/N assures him, pulling away and walking towards the washroom.  She calls over her shoulder to him as she does. “Go pick the song!  I’ll be back in a moment!”

When Y/N reaches the washroom, she’s surprised to find it empty, and she’s even more surprised when she catches her reflection in the bathroom mirror.

Is that really her? She wonders, propping herself up on the counter as she leans closer to examine herself.  Her skin is flushed from the alcohol, all across her cheeks and neck, and it only gets warmer as the heat of the bar finally hits her. Y/N undoes the top few buttons of her plaid shirt, exposing her chest to the air.  Cocking her head to the side, Y/N studies herself for a moment before undoing the rest of the buttons and rolling up the sleeves to wear the shirt like a cardigan, leaving her bralette exposed.  It’s a different look than anything she’s ever done, but…she likes it, she realizes, as her eyes scan over her reflection.  She likes this.  Being somewhere that no one knows her, somewhere filled with people that won’t judge her for drinking too much, somewhere that she doesn’t have to worry about stories getting back to her work.  Y/N likes the wild look in her eyes, the breathlessness stirring inside her, the plumpness of her lips from the ice of her drinks.   When she looks at herself, she sees a different person. Someone she doesn’t recognize. Someone who seems to know what they want.

Her phone vibrating in her back pocket pulls her from her thoughts, and it takes Y/N a moment for her intoxicated self to manage to pull it out.  When she sees Brant’s name flashing on the screen, she only hesitates for one second before hitting decline.  That one second of hesitation, however, is all it takes to make her contemplate herself in the mirror again, second guessing what she sees.  She tucks her phone away before washing her hands, and splashes a little bit of cold water on her cheeks to help cool herself down. Giving herself one last look over, Y/N buttons the few bottom buttons of her shirt back together, tying it into a neat knot to cover her stomach.  Even if no one here knows her…she can’t get too wild.  She still has to be who she is.

After exiting the bathroom, Y/N returns to the table, expecting Harry to be waiting there for her. All she finds, however, is his jacket tossed over the back of his chair, and his now empty pint glass sitting on the table. Y/N turns in a small circle, wondering where he is in the crowd when she hears his slightly slurred voice magnified over the speakers.

“Y/N.  Up here, love, c’mon.”

Y/N turns towards the stage, her eyes wide as she realizes Harry has a microphone in one hand and has the other hand wrapped around the microphone stand.  His smile is practically glowing underneath the stage lights, and his eyes seem to be doing the same.  He releases the mic stand to run a hand through his hair before beckoning her forward.

“Ladies and gentlemen of Cleveland, this—” Harry points towards Y/N, and she almost swears that every person in the bar turns towards her. “This is my very good friend Y/N. And five days ago, she hated my guts!” The crowd boos, and Y/N stares at Harry with incredulous eyes.  What is he doing?

“No, no, don’t boo, it’s alright.  I hated her guts too.” Harry says with a shrug, leaning against the mic stand again. “But everything’s alright now!  We’re getting along, she’s stopped being such a control freak, and she even said she would let me pick a song for us to sing tonight, isn’t that nice?”

The crowd cheers as Y/N walks towards the stage, stopping just before it to stare up at Harry as he continues his drunken monologue.  If she was sober, she’d probably pull him down from the stage, grab the front of his patterned button down shirt, and drag him back to their table.  But the alcohol running through her system is making her bold, and with her head swimming in the amber liquid she’d been consuming, all she can do is laugh and stumble her way to the stairs to the stage.

Someone wearing a t-shirt with the bar’s logo on it helps her up the stairs, handing her a microphone once she makes it onto the stage.  Harry, realizing she’s where she needs to be now, motions to the DJ behind her, and a familiar beat that Y/N can’t place begins to play.

“Harry—” Y/N speaks without raising the microphone to her lips. “What song—?”

“Don’t worry, you know it.” Harry assures her, his eyes flickering over her appearance quickly. “You look great.  Just go with it!”

There’s really no choice but to go with it, she thinks, because within a moment, Harry has a simpering smile on his face as he lifts the microphone to his lips, his body turned towards the audience but his eyes flickering to you.

“‘I wasn’t jealous before we met…now every man I see is a potential threat’.” He sings in a confident voice, and Y/N watches the split second it takes for the crowd to realize he’s actually good.  And it’s not just his voice, she thinks.  It’s his demeanor.  The part of Harry’s personality that had first irritated her, the part that lives for a spotlight, the part that can draw someone in with a snap of a finger…that part shines on a stage.

In contrast, all Y/N can do is stare with a shocked expression painted across her face as Harry continues to serenade the crowd.  He makes eye contact with specific people as he croons the next lines, his hand confidently wrapped around the microphone “‘And I’m possessive, it isn’t nice…you’ve heard me say that smoking is my only voice’.”

It’s then that Harry’s attention turns back to Y/N, his eyelids hooded, half hiding his emerald eyes as he saunters back towards her.  It’s like a switch has flipped in his head, because Y/N is certain that he’s never looked at her in this way before. “‘But now it isn’t true…now everything is new’…” The closer Harry gets to her, the less Y/N can breathe. By the time he’s a foot away from her, she feels like her breaths are stuttering in her chest, giving barely enough oxygen to her body to keep her going.  

Harry, it seems, is unaware of the affect he’s having on her.  His long limbs are loose and free as he continues to move closer, the smirk on his face intertwined with something deeper that Y/N’s drunken mind can’t quite put her finger on. “‘And all I’ve learned, has overturned…I beg of you’…”

The scent of cologne, alcohol, and sweat that emanates from Harry as he gets close enough to press his forehead to hers reminds Y/N exactly where she is, and what she’s supposed to be doing.  Just managing to bring the microphone to her lips in time, Y/N shoves Harry on his shoulder, pushing him away enough that she can walk past him and distance herself. “‘Don’t go wasting your emotion’…” She sings, glancing at him over her shoulder as she moves away.  Harry watches her with darkened eyes, a hungry look on his face as Y/N begins to sway her hips to the music.  It’s fun, she realizes, being on stage like this, and playing the part with Harry as she sets down a challenge. “‘Lay all your love on me’.”

The crowd cheers as Harry begins to take measured steps towards Y/N again, looking like the cat who wants to catch the canary.  Y/N, ever the competitive player, refuses to give in so easily, and quickly extends a hand to two people sitting in front of the stage.  They give her support as she slides down from the platform, working her way through the tables without so much as a glance behind herself at Harry, who she knows is following her.

“‘It was like shooting a sitting duck…a little small talk, a smile and baby I was stuck’.” Y/N finally turns around, pausing her walk to see Harry hopping down from the stage. She points at him slowly, giving a small shake of her head as she sings the next line. “‘I still don’t know what you’ve done to me…a grownup woman should never fall so easily’…”

Harry’s smirk only grows, and he runs a hand haphazardly through his sweaty curls.  He’s enjoying playing the part too, and Y/N can tell by the way he allows her to cross the seating area, so that they’re walking parallel to each other towards the bar.  He’s not chasing her down.  He’s taking his time, knowing that he’ll get her in the end.

“‘I feel a kind of fear…when I don’t have you near’…” Y/N pauses at a table of two men and a woman, leaning down between the latter two.  She only takes her eyes off Harry for a moment to give a questioning look to the man, who gives her a smile of permission.  Y/N runs her fingers across his shoulder and down his arm, but keeps her eyes glued to Harry the entire time. “‘Unsatisfied, I skip my pride…I beg you dear’…”

When he sees Y/N’s fingers trace down the collar of someone else, Harry’s brow furrows in jealousy, his jade eyes shifting even darker than they were before.  He keeps pace with Y/N as she begins to move again, but there’s an air of tension in his saunter that wasn’t there a moment ago.  When he sings, it sounds like half plea, half demand. “‘Don’t go wasting your emotion…lay all your love on me’.” Harry rounds a table of people before beginning to close the distance between him and Y/N, each of them now standing in front of the bar.  With the tension between them now palpable, the crowd is moving out of their way discreetly, watching as the two approach each other. Harry licks his red lips before singing the next line. “‘Don’t go sharing your devotion…lay all your love on me’.”

Y/N releases her bottom lip from between her teeth, running her fingers over the finished wood of the bar before pulling herself to sit atop it.  She crosses her legs carefully before leaning her weight on one hand, giving a small shrug, knowing that Harry’s eyes are glued to her every motion as the bartender pours him a shot. “‘I’ve had a few little love affairs…they didn’t last very long and they’ve been pretty scarce’…”

Harry’s lips wrap around the shot glass, throwing it back just in time to sing the next line as tequila drips from the corner of his mouth.  The drop of alcohol runs down his chin to trace the muscles of his neck, and as Harry pulls himself to sit next to Y/N on the bar, the only thing she wants to do is lean forward and lick the liquor from his skin.

“‘I used to think I was sensible’…” Harry passes a newly poured shot to Y/N, meaning for her to take it from him, and he nearly stutters over his next line as Y/N wraps her hand around his own, guiding him to guide the shot to her mouth.  There’s a sharp intake of air into the microphone before Harry can sing again, and Y/N smirks at the small victory as she wipes her mouth doing her best to hide how the bitter taste of the tequila affects her. “‘It makes the truth even more incomprehensible’.”

Y/N brings her microphone to her mouth again to sing the next verse with Harry, their eyes locked together as they lean forward into each other.  Despite the cheering of the crowd, Y/N can’t help but feel as though she and Harry are the only two in the bar, as if this—very public—performance were small and intimate and just between them.

“‘Because everything is new’…” Harry grips the knot in Y/N’s plaid shirt, easily pulling it undone with one hand.  His eyes break away from hers for only a moment to canvas over her newly exposed midriff and lace bralette before snapping back to her gaze with a renewed vigor. He keeps the tails of the shirt clutched within his strong hand as he begins to lean back on the bar, pulling Y/N down with him.

“‘And everything is you’…” Y/N almost falls over before she catches herself, bracing one hand beside Harry’s head on the bar to support her weight as he lays down fully. She can feel how tightly he’s gripping her shirt by how the hem of it is pressing into her skin, and the pressure of the fabric cues another kind of pressure to begin to curl inside her stomach. When she sucks in a breath, she can taste tequila and Harry’s cologne on her tongue, and she struggles to bite back a whine while Harry wraps her shirt tighter around his hand.

“‘And all I’ve learned has overturned’…” Harry releases the wrinkled fabric of her shirt, his now freed hand trading the cloth for the skin of her exposed waist.  The coolness of his rings against her flushed skin makes Y/N’s breath stutter, and she curls her body over him more in response.  The taste of Harry’s touch has sparked a need to be closer, as well as a new fluttering in her core, and judging by the way Harry keeps licking his lips, he knows it.

Refusing to be the only one affected by their close proximity, Y/N moves her supporting hand from the bar to Harry’s hair, tugging on it harshly as Harry opens his mouth to sing the next line.  As Y/N sings “‘I beg of you’…” with a pleading glance, Harry grunts deep in his throat, just managing to pull the microphone away from his lips so that Y/N is the only one to hear it.

Although getting a reaction out of Harry was her goal, actually hearing that reaction is another story entirely.  Heat rushes to Y/N’s face as Harry grips her waist tighter, pressing her thighs and hips to his own as he guides the two of them to the beat of the music.  The cheering and wolf whistles from the crowd are the only thing that keep Y/N grounded and in the moment, reminding her that—despite how it feels—there are people watching the two of them.

“‘Don’t go wasting your emotion…lay all your love on me’.” Harry grinds his hip against Y/N’s once more, moving them in a steady and consistent pace.  Y/N repositions her body in return, spreading her legs so she can straddle Harry’s hips more easily.  She knows, though, that she needs to start pulling back.  She has to do something to get away from him, to break the trance that his touch has her in, before she does something she’ll regret.

“‘Don’t go sharing your devotion’…” Y/N slowly sits back up, letting go of Harry’s hair in order to trail her free hand down his chest. Although she knows that she’s supposed to be distancing herself from him, she can’t resist digging her nails in just the slightest bit, delighting in the hiss that leaves his mouth. “‘Lay all your love on me’…”

Harry sits up slowly as the key changes, his eyes glued to Y/N’s lips as she sings a line by herself, her voice growing ever so slightly fainter every time Harry tugs on his red lips with his teeth, soothing the mark with his tongue a moment after. “‘Don’t go wasting your emotion…lay all your love on me’…”

Now that they’re both sitting upright, Harry grips their bodies and turns them so that their legs once again dangle off the bar.  Y/N can feel the blood rushing from her head as she drapes her arm over Harry’s shoulder, her eyelids fluttering as Harry digs his fingertips into her waist. “‘Don’t go sharing your devotion’…” Harry’s pupils are so blown that his irises practically look black.  His chest is heaving with every breath, his exposed skin flushed and sweaty.  His curls are a mess from Y/N tangling her fingers in them.  If Y/N didn’t know any better, she’d say Harry looks freshly fucked, and then she wonders if she looks the same.  By the way Harry’s looking at her, she thinks it’s safe to say that she does.

“‘Lay all your love on me’.” They finish together, hungry eyes locked with each other while the wolf whistles and clapping gets louder as the final notes of the song trail off.  This is where they should break apart, Y/N thinks, her chest moving rapidly with every ragged breath she takes.  This is where she should climb off Harry’s lap, climb down from the bar, return the microphones to the DJ, and gather her things and go.  This is the end of whatever the hell just happened during that song.  This is where she says “Harry, we have to be up early tomorrow to drive, so we should go back to the motel.”

To her credit, Y/N tries. She swallows hard, her mouth as dry as it’s ever been, and sucks in another breath, almost whimpering at the taste of his cologne in the back of her throat.  Don’t, she tells herself.  She needs to say what she needs to say.  Their game is done.  It’s over.

“Harry—” She begins, and that’s all she manages to say before Harry is kissing her.

Her body reacts before her mind does, but between the overwhelming sensations all around her and the copious amounts of liquor that her brain is swimming in, Y/N can only register every third movement.  The microphone falling from her hand onto the bar as she tangles her fingers back in Harry’s curls, twisting and pulling and receiving the most delightful gasps from him in return.  Harry’s teeth catching her bottom lip, just barely tugging on the tender flesh. Ringed hands keeping a firm grip on Y/N’s sides as Harry helps her down from the bar, his lips still pressed firmly against her own.  The lingering taste of tequila on Harry’s skin as Y/N kisses down his jaw, unable to completely pull away as Harry struggles to settle their tab with the bartender.

She’s never felt like this before; Y/N didn’t even know it could feel like this.  She didn’t know that she could feel an ache so deep inside her, both painful and pleasurable at the same time, and be so completely aware that the only cure for it is the touch of another person.  Y/N had been convinced that this rush was something that was fiction, made up by steamy romance novels to entice lonely housewives to dive beneath their pages. And yet here she is, stumbling out of a bar in Cleveland, Ohio, with Harry Styles, someone that she swore up and down that she hated five days ago.  Here she is with Harry’s jacket draped over her heated shoulders, his hands slipped underneath, rubbing at her exposed skin as he guides her back to the motel.  Here she is with his lips connected to her neck the moment their motel room door is closed, his fingers fumbling with the locks on the door as he refuses to pull away from her.

Yes, Y/N thinks, as she grinds her hips against Harry’s, relishing in the strangled moan that he breathes into her mouth: it’s never felt like this.

“Y/N—” Each pant of her name from his lips sounds like a song. “Fuck, Y/N—” Harry pulls back from her just enough to suck in a full breath, the first in what feels like hours. “I—we—”

“Shut up.” Y/N uses her grip on his hair to pull his head back, trailing open mouthed kisses over his jugular. “Just shut up, Harry, I need—I just need—”

“Need what?” Harry demands, eyes dark as he pushes himself away from her.  An involuntary whine at the loss of contact escapes from Y/N’s throat, and Harry has to steel himself again before he can continue. “What do you need?” He asks, struggling to keep his voice controlled. “You—you have to tell me, so that—I need you to be clear.”

Y/N licks over her swollen lips, eyes blown wide with lust as she stares up at Harry, struggling to find the words.  “I need…” She swallows once more, inhaling sharply as he grips her shoulders to steady her. “I need you, Harry.  Just fuck me. I-I need you to—”

Before she can finish her request, Harry has scooped her up into his arms, tossing her on the creaking motel bed as if she were a rag doll.  A gasp of shock leaves Y/N’s mouth, and she’s barely managed to sit up before Harry is caging his body over hers, forcing her back down as he kisses her hard.

Y/N’s hands go straight to the hem of his shirt, tugging roughly on the fabric, shoving it up Harry’s body before he gets the clue to half sit up and pull it off himself. After that, it’s a rush to remove clothes, each of them blindly pulling off shirts and bras and pants.  Everything is rushed, and that’s what Y/N wants. She doesn’t want time to lay down and explore, and allow herself space to second guess her decision.  All she wants is Harry to do something about the ache in her core, to fill her up so completely that she’ll be feeling him for days. It’s that need that makes Y/N tug on his hair to get his attention as he begins to kiss her thighs.

“No.” She shakes her head haphazardly, and the room spins slightly when she finishes the motion. “No, I just—I just need you to fuck me.  I’m ready, Harry—”

“But—” His teeth tug roughly on his bottom lip, mimicking Y/N’s actions from moments ago. “I want to taste—”

“Please, Harry.” Y/N whines, throwing her head back on the motel pillow. “It’s been so long since I’ve been full…please…”

The lewd admission catches Harry off guard. “Fucking hell—” He spits out, his hands tugging on his hair as he sits up. “Yeah, I—okay.” He closes his eyes for a moment to steady himself, the struggle to have a coherent thought clear on his face. “Okay, I need…”

Harry’s eyes begin to search the room, and the moment they settle on his bag in the corner, he rushes towards it.  Y/N watches the muscles in his back shift beneath his smooth skin as he unzips the bag, rummaging through it before pulling out a tiny foil square.  He tucks the package between his teeth as his hands fumble with his belt, undoing it quickly and pulling it off to toss to the floor.  He undoes his button and fly as he climbs back onto the bed, doing his best to waste no time as he situates himself between Y/N’s still spread legs.  

“Y’look so hot like this, y’know that?” He can’t stop himself from muttering the words as he pulls his pants down just enough to free his cock.  Y/N stares hungrily at how swollen he is, only half listening to Harry’s words as she watches his hand stroke himself, the other lifting the condom package to his teeth.  He tears the foil open, spitting the little tag from his mouth as he removes the condom from the foil.  That foil is soon tossed to the ground before Harry gives himself one last stroke, quickly but carefully rolling the condom down the length of his shaft.

Placing his hands on either knee, Harry spreads Y/N’s legs even wider, his eyes greedily taking in the sight of her bare core. “You’re dripping.” Harry says in a low voice, and before Y/N can reply with anything, he runs a ringed finger over her folds and slips it into his mouth.

“Ah—!” Y/N gasps at the unexpected sensation, the minimal contact enough to send her reeling. Harry grins at the response, loving how the pleasure from the small action is clearly written across her face.

“Sorry.” He says with a small shrug, lining himself up with her entrance. “Just wanted a little taste, tha’s all.  Couldn’t resist.” Harry drags the tip of his cock along Y/N’s slick core, a look of concentration overtaking his features. “I’ll go slow—”

A sound of protest leaves Y/N’s mouth. “No.  Go fast. I need it, Harry, please—” Her plea is cut off by Harry thrusting inside her with one sharp movement, and then Y/N stops talking completely.

There’s a slight feeling of pain, as she wasn’t lying when she said it’s been a while since she’s been with someone, but underneath that pain, pleasure is quickly building as Harry begins to snap his hips towards hers, finding a rhythm within a few thrusts. Y/N knows immediately that Harry is probably one of the largest men—if not the largest man—she’s ever been with, but that’s exactly what she needs right now.  The moment he filled her for the first time, there was a feeling of completeness that she’s been missing in her life for a long time.  She needed this, she thinks.  She needed to be stretched, to be filled, to be fucked, and Harry is the only one that could have fulfilled those needs this well. She’s convinced of it.

It’s far from the most romantic sex Y/N’s ever had; it’s all teeth clacking, biting, scratching, tugging, and growling.  And she knows that she should be concerned about how Harry’s teeth biting down on her shoulder is going to leave marks, especially when she has to wear a bridesmaid dress in less than 48 hours.  But all of that is exactly what she needs.  She doesn’t want Harry to whisper how much he loves her, how close he feels to her, how happy he is to be with her.  She doesn’t want to hear him say anything, except—

“Feel so fucking good around my cock.” He growls, his fingertips digging deeper into the flesh of her hips. “So bloody tight, Y/N…”

A sharp gasp tumbles out of Y/N’s throat as Harry swivels his hips, finding the exact spot she needs him the most. “Oh God, Harry, I—” Y/N scratches her nails down his back, surely leaving a trail of angry red marks in her place, as her other hand twists the sheets within her grip. “Fuck, right there, right there, right there—”

“Feels good, yeah? You like it?” Harry manages to bring a hand to her hair, tangling it within her locks and pulling hard. “Tell me.” His voice is so much lower than she’s ever heard it, his accent so much thicker, and the combination sends Y/N’s eyes rolling into the back of her head. “Tell me how much you love my cock, and—fuck—how much you love me fucking you.”

Y/N’s mouth falls open, a strangled whine echoing from the back of her throat as the head of Harry’s cock presses against her G-spot again. “I-I love it, Harry, I—your cock fills me so well—don’t stop, please don’t stop—!”

Using her moans as fuel, Harry begins to thrust faster, tugging on Y/N’s hair one last time before grasping her hips between his hands to gain more control.  If his flushed skin and the sweat covering his entire body is any indication, Y/N can tell that Harry is just as close as she is.  Her breathing quickens just as the sound of the bed creaking does, and she brings one hand down to her clit to rub fast circles, desperate to reach her release.

“Harry—” She gasps for what seems the millionth time that night, her body shuddering as she pushes closer and closer to the edge. “I’m so fucking close, Harry, please—”

The growl that falls from Harry’s mouth almost doesn’t sound like him.  It’s deeper, more animalistic, and so unlike the careful and slow voice that she’s gotten used to over the last five days.  Releasing one hand from her hip, he pushes her hand out of the way, replacing her fingers with his own to rub circles over her clit. “Cum for me, Y/N. I know you need it, baby, so just—” Harry groans as her walls squeeze his length. “Just cum.”

The command combined with his motions is all it takes to push Y/N over the edge.  A breathless gasp falls from her open mouth, and she screws her eyes shut as pleasure courses through her body.  It’s so much more intense than anything she’s felt before, so much more pleasurable, so much more dizzying, and just so much more. Small whimpers and Harry’s name are the only things she can think to say as her orgasm makes her movements stutter before falling limply back onto the bed.

“Fuck—” Harry moans roughly as he kisses her one more time, his mouth falling open against hers as her orgasm triggers his own.  Although the rhythm of his thrusts stutters, they don’t completely stop, and he continues to slam his hips against her own as he rides out his orgasm. “That’s it, baby—squeeze me tight—” Harry pants into Y/N’s mouth, barely registering anything he’s saying, let alone the pet name that’s begun to fall from his lips. “Christ…”

Things become a blur after that.  After Harry pulls out, all Y/N can focus on is how empty she feels without his thick cock filling her to the brim, and she doesn’t even realize that he’s gotten off the bed until he returns, his weight causing the whole bed frame to creak once more. With both of them so sweaty, Harry only pulls the top sheet over their panting bodies, pressing his head into the crook of Y/N’s neck as his eyes close.

Neither of them says anything, and for multiple reasons.  What exactly is there to say?  And, more pressing, what exactly is Y/N capable of saying right now?  There are no words running through her mind. All she can do is think in terms of physical contact and needs, and those two things tell her everything she knows in this moment.  She knows that Harry is in just his boxers now because she can’t feel the rough fabric of his pants against her bare skin.  She knows that she needs his hands on her, cupping her breasts the way he is. She knows that if he were to move away from her, she’d go chasing after him.  She knows that she’s completely worn out—completely fucked out, really—and above all else, she knows that whatever needs to be discussed between them can be discussed the next morning.

Harry, however, seems to have a different approach.  His face still pressed into her neck, he mumbles something against her sweat soaked skin, low and deep and completely inaudible.  Y/N feels an open mouthed kiss pressed to her neck, and then hears another mumble, this one even quieter than the last.

“Hm?” Y/N barely manages to hum the syllable in her exhaustion.

There’s no response, no repeat of the quiet phrases, and it takes Y/N a few minutes of feeling Harry’s breathing even out to realize that he’s fallen asleep.  If she were sober and had the mental capacity to examine things, Y/N would wonder what it was that Harry whispered into her skin.  But her brain is swimming in exhaustion and endorphins and tequila, and the only thing she can do is close her eyes and allow her breathing to sync up with the rise and fall of Harry’s chest.

…

The first thing Y/N registers the next morning is the shrill ringing of her cell phone, which somehow made its way to the bedside table in her drunken fervour the night before. The second thing she registers is the pounding of her head, like she can feel each pump of blood to her brain, and the uncomfortably dry feeling in her mouth, as if it’s been stuffed full of cotton. The third thing Y/N registers is—

“Christ.” Harry groans into her neck, his voice raspy from sleep and laced with irritation. “God, who is calling right now?”

Right.  The third thing she registers, probably the most complicated of all, Y/N thinks, is just how much of Harry’s taut and tattooed bare skin is pressed against her own.  His strong arms are thrown over her waist, clutching her tight to his chest. In the back of her mind, she’s vaguely aware of the chain of Harry’s cross pressing into her breast, probably leaving a small red indentation along with the other marks he left on her last night.

Last night.

Y/N lets out a small whine as the previous evening comes rushing back to her.  It’s a blur of alcohol, ABBA, and Harry.  Harry is everywhere, in every blurred picture her hungover brain can conjure.  Laughing at her from across the table.  Smirking at her on stage.  Staring at her with a hungry look in his eyes as he pulled her down on top of him on the bar, grinding his hips into hers.  Kissing her.  Kissing her multiple times.  Coming back to their room with his hands leaving scorching imprints over every inch of her.  And now, him laying next to her, clutching the two of them together like they’ve always done this.  Like it’s natural.

The phone rings again, louder than the last time, and Harry curses under his breath, the short exhale of air leaving goosebumps along Y/N’s neck.  He lifts his head just barely as he reaches across Y/N’s body, grabbing her phone from the bedside table and not bothering to check the caller ID as he answers.

“Hello?” He says, the rasp of sleep still clear his voice.  Within three seconds, Harry’s entire body tenses against Y/N, his arm constricting around her waist enough to shift her on the bed.

Y/N lifts her head up when she feels the change, finally opening her eyes just enough to read the change in Harry’s body language.  What she finds are dark and stormy green eyes, a swollen red mouth pressed into a thin line, and a deep crease between his furrowed brow, all of it such a contrast from the hazy memories of him the night before.

“I—yeah, she’s right here.” Harry mutters, his eyes snapping to Y/N’s face for just a moment. “I’ll—oh. Yeah, no, the trip’s been…good. Yeah.  Not too much traffic.” His arm moves off her waist as he pulls away from her, rolling onto his back as the bed creaks beneath them.  With his newly freed hand, Harry covers his eyes, rubbing them for a moment as the irritation on his face grows. “Yeah, it was nice of me to give her a ride.  Yeah.” He sucks in a breath. “Well, she’s—she’s awake now.  Here.  I’ll let you two talk.”

Y/N props herself up on one elbow, careful to keep the sheet pressed to her chest so that she’s not exposed. She knows that Harry’s already seen everything, touched everything, and kissed everything, but the sudden change in his demeanor is telling her that she needs to be guarded, even if she has no idea what caused it.

Harry holds out her phone for her, his face stony as Y/N slowly accepts it. “Harry—?” She begins, but he just gives a rough jerk of his head, and offers no other explanation.

Eyes still glued to Harry’s face, Y/N brings the phone to her ear, clearing the sleep from her voice. “Hello?”

“Hi.” The familiar cadence of Brant’s voice crackles through the phone speaker, an indication of how far away he is from her. “It’s good to finally hear your voice; I haven’t been able to catch you the last few days.”

Y/N keeps her eyes on Harry as her body goes cold, pressing the sheet tighter to her chest. “Brant.” She whispers his name unintentionally; her body won’t allow her to say it any louder. “Hi.”

At the sound of Brant’s voice leaving her lips, Harry throws the covers off of himself, jerkily pulling himself off of the low motel room bed.  He snatches his jeans off the floor, and doesn’t give Y/N another glance as he walks to the small bathroom, slamming the door behind himself.

“Hi.” Brant says again, completely unaware of what’s happening on the other end of the telephone line. “I’ve missed you.  Where are you now?”

“Uh, Cleveland.” Y/N says weakly, stumbling her way out of the bed to her duffel bag.  She grabs a new bra and t-shirt, along with her comfiest pair of pants.  Without Harry beside her, she’s freezing. “Today’s our last day of driving.”

“Oh, well, that’s good.” Brant replies easily. “The wedding is tomorrow, then?”

“Mhmm.” Y/N’s eyes flicker to the bathroom as the sound of the shower starting travels through the wood of the door. “And tonight is the rehearsal dinner.”

Brant makes a sound of acknowledgement on the other end of the phone. “That’ll be nice!  Do you know if you’re flying back?”

“Uh—” Y/N pauses her movements, her pants half pulled up her legs.  That, honestly, is a good question, and one which seems as though the answer is changing with every passing moment. “I guess I’ll call the airline and…see if I can fly back.  Maybe the storms will have passed.”

“You must have driven through them, right?  In Utah, or wherever they were?” Brant asks curiously. “Did they seem that bad? Honestly, I’ve always found thunder to be relaxing.  I think most people do.”

Y/N tugs her t-shirt over her head with one hand, accidentally bumping her chin as she does so.  The motion causes her to bite down on her tongue, and she lets out a curse under her breath, not even bothering to correct Brant.  It doesn’t matter, she thinks.  He probably wouldn’t remember. “Yeah.  Relaxing.”

The sound of the shower turning off catches her attention, distracting her from what Brant says next. “I—sorry—” She mutters in a distracted tone, raking her fingers through her sleep and sex mussed hair. “What was that?”

“I said let me know when you’re on your way back from New York, so I’ll make us a dinner reservation.” Brant repeats himself without suspicion of Y/N’s distracted tone. “We just got some new files at work that I think you’ll be very interested in.”

The bathroom door creaks open, and Harry emerges from the cloud of shower steam.  He’s dressed in just his pants, his marked chest still damp from the shower.  Although he catches Y/N’s eye for a moment, he quickly looks away, rubbing his towel through his wet curls as he turns to search for a shirt.  The red marks of Y/N’s nails are prominent on his otherwise unmarked back.

“Dinner?” Y/N repeats slowly, chewing on her cuticle as she takes a seat on the edge of the bed. “Are you—you still want to get dinner?”

“Of course.  I enjoy our weekly dinners, don’t you?” Brant asks, confusion finally slipping into his voice. “I’ve missed them.”

“I—” Y/N clears her throat, rubbing her thumb absentmindedly over her bottom lip. “Okay.  Yeah.  Dinner. I’ll, um, I’ll let you know when I book a flight home.”

“Sounds wonderful. Well, I’ll let you get on the road. Let me know when you’re available.” Brant’s voice already sounds more and more distant. “Goodbye.”

“Bye.” Y/N replies lamely, letting her phone drop to the crumpled bed sheets.

There’s a rustling behind her, the sound of a belt clicking, of the zipper on a duffel bag being pulled shut.  Y/N waits for a moment, to give Harry the chance to say something to her, but nothing comes.  Finally, she twists around on the bed, her nerves running on high.

Harry is completely dressed now, a black t-shirt covering his previously bare chest, and he’s tied his familiar green bandana into his damp chestnut locks.  His sunglasses are hanging on the neck of his shirt, but even without them covering his emerald eyes, Y/N can’t decipher anything that’s swirling within them.

“That—that was Brant.” She says finally, scratching a nail over the palm of her hand.

Harry jerks his head in a nod as he shoulders his duffel bag. “Yeah.  I heard.” Tapping his fingers against the leather strap, he finally spares a glance at Y/N. “He wants to take you to dinner, huh?”

Running her teeth along her bottom lip, Y/N takes a moment before she replies. “Harry, I—”

“I’ll be in the car.” He mutters, taking long strides to the door and unlocking it with a harsh turn of his hand. “Just hurry up, yeah?  I want to get on the road soon, so we’re not late to the rehearsal dinner.”

When he slams the door behind him, Y/N breaks.

…

And just like that, it’s like they’re back at square one.

It really feels like the first day all over again, Y/N thinks, in every sense of the sentiment. From the way she and Harry sit in silence, each avoiding the other’s gaze, to how every single one of Harry’s movements is filled with a tight and tense irritation.  Even the sound of Elton John’s “Tiny Dancer” is familiar, echoing through the speakers of the car like a soundtrack to an old memory.  

After four hours, the silence is finally getting to her.  She can’t stop shifting in her seat, her muscles seizing from hours on end in the same position—although, frankly, her soreness may partially be a result of her and Harry’s activities from the night before—and with every short and hard breath Harry sighs, Y/N gets more and more antsy.

“Harry.” She says finally, risking a glance at him from the corner of her eye.  He has one hand on the steering wheel and the other on the stick shift, both grips tight enough to stretch his skin over the bones of his knuckles until it goes white.  At the sound of Y/N’s voice, his jaw flexes, but he shows no other evidence that he heard her.

A frustrated sigh falls past Y/N’s lips. “Harry.” She says again, firmer this time. “Are you going to ignore me all the way to the Catskills?”

Realizing that he can’t feign deafness, Harry lets his shoulders lift once and drop down again in a quick motion. “’M not ignoring you.” He mutters, keeping his eyes glued to the road.

“We’re not talking. At all.” Y/N taps her fingers against her knee, just slightly off the beat of the music. “Shouldn’t we talk about what happened?”

“Why?” Harry asks, his voice flatter than she’s ever heard it. “What’s there to talk about?”

Y/N twists her body in her seat, her seat belt nearly cutting into her throat with how quickly she moves. “What the hell do you mean, what’s there to talk about?  There’s plenty!  Last night—”

Harry cuts over her with a sharp tone, still refusing to look away from the road. “Last night we got drunk, and we made a mistake.” His grip tightens even more on the gear shift as he moves it to accelerate the car. “And it shouldn’t have happened.”

It takes a few moment for the words to register in her brain, and Y/N blinks slowly as the process unfolds. “You think it was a mistake?” She tries to ask the question as nonchalantly as possible.

“I do.” Harry nods tightly, and while Y/N thinks that she can detect something else underneath his tone, his dark sunglasses hide the truth of his thoughts from her. “We got caught up with trying to—to pretend we’re not who we are.  But we know who we are.”

If Y/N’s brain couldn’t process Harry’s words a moment ago, it’s working in overdrive now as she draws a million different conclusions from the conversation.  What the fuck does “we know who we are” mean?  Wasn’t the whole point of this trip—the long lesson they’d learned together—that both of them were different than the other had thought? Hadn’t Harry proved to her, over and over, how he was so much more considerate and empathetic than she’d previously imagined?  Hadn’t she shown him that she wasn’t the Ice Queen he thought she was, wasn’t as controlling, wasn’t as perfect?  Hadn’t that been a good thing?  Hadn’t they bonded at roadside fruit stands, small souvenir shacks, ghost town gas stations, and dingy motel rooms?

But maybe…maybe she had imagined all of that, because the way that Harry is actively avoiding her gaze is telling her that he isn’t thinking the same thing.  Everything from his body language, to his tone of voice, to his attitude, is telling her that he’s just as stubborn and closed off as he was when they first met.  He hasn’t changed.  If he had, he wouldn’t be refusing to do something as simple as look at her.

Still, something about the interaction doesn’t sit right with Y/N.  Although she turns to face the windshield again, she keeps Harry in the corner of her gaze. “Is this…” She swallows hard. “Does this have something to do with Brant calling?”

A harsh snort is all the response she gets. “Christ, no.  Trust me, nothing that prick can do has that much of an affect on me.” Even from behind his sunglasses, Y/N can tell that Harry is rolling his eyes. “Although I suppose it is a reminder of where you belong.”

A flash of irritation rips up Y/N’s spine. “A reminder of what?” She repeats, eyes narrowing.

“You heard me, Y/N, don’t make me say it again.” Harry taps a finger to the song, perfectly on the beat. They’re out of sync, Y/N realizes. Had they ever been in sync?

No, she decides.  They hadn’t.  She’d just been fooling herself.  Being in the car for five days with only Harry for company had deluded her, but soon she’d be with Jo, and a million other people, and when she’s not in stuck in Harry’s car, smelling Harry’s cologne, listening to Harry’s music, she’ll have a clear head.  She’ll be able to think straight.

“Fine.” Y/N crosses her arms firmly over her chest, leaning her head against the cool glass of the passenger window.  A sign welcoming them to the state of New York whizzes past. “I won’t make you say it again.  You don’t have to say anything.”

…

“So?  What do you think?”

Y/N steps over the threshold of the cozy cabin, analyzing every little detail of the room as quickly as she can.  The interior seems to be one open concept room, cleverly split up with small architectural dividers.  The living room and kitchen flowed into each other smoothly, with a kitchen island dividing the space.  To the left of the living room is a small reading nook, holding a comfortable looking wicker swing chair and a half-size bookshelf that seems to be well stocked. Separating the reading nook from the rest of the cabin is the staircase, which Y/N presumes leads up to the master bedroom and bathroom that’s lofted above on the halved second floor. Between the wall of windows giving a beautiful view of the forest, the fire quietly cracking in the living room, and the potted plants scattered around the cabin, Y/N has to admit that she thinks she could live in this space for the rest of her life.

“It’s beautiful, Jo.” She finally replies, setting down her suitcase and duffel bag as she continues to look around.  She walks to the living room first, brushing her fingers over the cable knit blanket that’s draped over the back of the comfortable looking couch. “Is this for you and Laure?”

“Nope.  It’s for me and you.” Jo replies, walking to the kitchen and opening the fridge.  She pulls out a bottle of rosé, motioning over her shoulder to the cupboard. “Grab a couple wine glasses, would you?”

Y/N crosses to the kitchen, searching through the cupboards until she finds the glasses.  Setting them down on the island, she gives Jo a confused look. “Me and you?”

Jo gives her a familiar grin as she uncorks the wine, and the sight of it lights a warm fire in Y/N’s chest.  It feels like home. “It’s tradition for the bride not to see the bride before the wedding, isn’t it?  So after the rehearsal dinner, Laure and I will say goodbye until the ceremony tomorrow, and you and I—” She fills Y/N’s glass liberally. “Will have one last night of single girl fun.  And then you can have the cabin to yourself tomorrow night, because I will be on my honeymoon, and, hopefully, getting laid.”

Y/N smiles back at her as she lifts her glass, clinking it against Jo’s. “Sounds like a plan.” After taking a long sip, Y/N leans her elbows on the counter, propping her head in her hands. “I can’t believe you’re getting married tomorrow.  Married!”

“Yeah, well, that’s old news.” Jo waves her hand as she lowers her wine glass from her lips, her inquisitive eyes alight with mischief. “I’d rather know how the trip with Harry was. Are you two finally getting along? The last time I called, you actually sounded like you were enjoying yourself.”

Y/N pauses with her wine glass half lifted to her lips.  Part of her wants to tell Jo everything, because she always tells Jo everything. It feels wrong to have a secret from her.  But then again, she’s never had a reason to have a secret before.  Right now, however…the last thing Jo and Laure need the night before their wedding—three hours before the rehearsal dinner—is to be stressed because the maid of honour and the best man had a drunken one night stand in Cleveland, Ohio.  

“I wouldn’t say we’re getting along.” Y/N says diplomatically, taking a sip of wine between her words. “We’re…a bit better, I suppose.  But we’re not that close.”

“Really?” When Jo raises an eyebrow, Y/N almost swears that she can detect a hint of disappointment in her voice. “But Harry said—”

“He said what?” Y/N asks quickly, the diplomatic tone disappearing immediately.

Jo tugs on her bottom lip as she gives a small shrug of her shoulders. “Nothing, I guess.  I don’t know.  I overheard him and Laure talking last night, but I couldn’t really make much of it out.  It sounded like you two were at a bar.”

The new information makes Y/N pause.  Harry had called Laure while they were at the bar last night.  Harry had felt the need to call Laure while they were at the bar last night.  What had been so urgent, so pressing, that he needed to speak to her right then and there?

“A bar, yeah.” Y/N finally replies after a moment. “It was alright.  We just had a couple drinks to relax from being in the car.”

“Just drinks?  That’s all?  Nothing else?”

Y/N clears her throat, gulping down the rest of her wine before answering. “That’s it.  Nothing else.”

…

“Here you go, Miss Bride.” Y/N grins at Jo as she tops off her mimosa, fixing the tie of her pink silk robe as she settles back down in her chair. “Something to relax you, yeah?”

Jo glances up at Y/N, her pen pausing over the page of her notebook.  She’s careful when she moves her head, so as not to disturb the hairstylist that’s carefully curling her hair, but still manages to meet Y/N’s eye. “I’m relaxed.” She argues, but takes a sip of the drink nonetheless. “I just love mimosas.  You can’t blame me for that.”

Y/N gives a slight shrug as she brushes a strand of her own carefully styled hair over her shoulder. Jo, being Jo, had insisted on sleeping in as much as she could that morning, so when the hair and makeup lady had arrived two hours ago, Y/N had been the first one to get made over. Which, honestly, she quite enjoyed, but the real feat would be remaining picture perfect until the ceremony, which is still two hours away.

“Will you do something for me?” Jo asks suddenly, her pen still scratching over her notebook.  She finishes signing her name with a messy signature, waiting until the hairdresser has paused her movements to rip the page from the notebook and fold it up.  She quickly writes Laure’s name on the front and extends the note to Y/N. “Will you bring this to Laure?”

Although Y/N accepts the note from her automatically, there’s a flicker of hesitation in her voice. “This isn’t an explanation of why you’re leaving her at the altar, is it?”

Jo flips Y/N off with an elegantly painted fingernail. “No, you jerk.  We agreed to write letters to each other right before the wedding.  As a little keepsake.”

A sudden lump develops in Y/N’s throat as she turns the note over in her hands, her mind flickering back to the last time she’d read something Jo wrote for Laure.  How Harry’s voice had sounded reciting Laure’s words for Jo. “You two are sickeningly sweet, you know that?” Y/N finishes her mimosa before standing up, tightening her robe once again. “I’ll take it to her now. Where’s her cabin?”

“Just down the path towards the resort.  Take a left when you reach the arrow sign.” Jo instructs her, setting her notebook down beside her before relaxing back into her chair.  Her eyes close as the hairdresser continues styling her hair. “You’ll find it.”

Y/N nods, slipping on her scuffed up Vans before dashing outside.  When the slight chill in the morning air hits her, she pulls her silk dressing gown around her tighter, and debates whether or not she should grab a proper jacket.  She decides against it, however, and ignores the goosebumps popping up on her bare legs as she begins to walk down the path Jo mentioned.

It’s a quiet and calm morning, and Y/N can hear birds chirping and flittering through the pine trees around them.  The trees themselves add a wonderful scent to the air, in addition to the faint smell that indicates it may rain later.  Glancing up, Y/N can see that the sky is overcast, giving another indication of future weather patterns.  A small sigh escapes her.  A storm would be just the thing that’s needed today, she thinks wryly.  

When Y/N reaches the arrow sign, which points towards the lake, the main resort building, and the cabins, she takes a sharp left.  And practically slams into Harry’s chest.

On instinct, Harry’s strong hands grip her arms, steadying her as she stumbles back from him.  Y/N’s eyes widen as she registers who she almost walked into, and she can tell Harry is just realizing it’s her.  His grip on her tightens for just a moment before it releases, and he takes a step back from her, creating space between their bodies.

“Sorry.” Y/N says after a moment, clearing her throat. “I was just—”

“Yeah.” Harry holds up his hand, and for the first time Y/N realizes that he’s holding a note identical to hers. “You’re on messenger duty too, huh?”

Biting her lip, Y/N nods slowly, holding up her own note. “Mhmm.”

The two of them stare at each other for a moment, and Y/N doesn’t miss how Harry’s green irises pause during his scan of her bare legs.  Crossing her ankles together, Y/N lets her eyes wander too, admiring for a moment how Harry’s grey sweatpants cling to his hips.  But only for a moment.

“Well, here.” Y/N pushes the note towards him, taking the note that he trades her in return. “How’s Laure doing?”

Harry gives a half shrug, turning Jo’s note over and over in his fingers. “Pretty decent, except she won’t eat anything.  Says she’s too nervous.”

Y/N cracks a small smile at the image of Laure, someone who is usually so self assured and confident, being too nervous about anything. “Tell her she can’t have a drink until she eats.  That’s how I got some toast into Jo.”

“I’ll do that.” Harry says with a terse nod.  

A beat of silence falls between the two of them, the only sounds audible being the chirping of birds and the wind in the trees.  The latter sends a shiver through Y/N, and she wraps her arms around herself to rub her bare skin, trying to find a bit of warmth in the shade of the forest.

A crease appears between Harry’s brow as he registers the motion, and he quickly shrugs off his own jacket.  Before Y/N can refuse, he’s draping the fabric around her shoulders, careful not to touch any bare skin.

Although Y/N fixes the drape of the jacket, her mouth opens to protest. “Harry—”

“I should go.  I have to give this to Laure, and get her to eat something.” Harry’s voice is gruff as he takes a step back. “I suppose I’ll…see you at the wedding?”

Y/N nods slowly, her fingers still grazing over the hem of the jacket. “Yeah.” She should say more, she thinks.  She should voice her anger, or her hurt, or whatever the hell it is that’s curdling like a hot ball of lead inside her stomach, but she can’t think of the words. “Yeah, I—” I’m sorry.  I miss you. I wish I could take it back.  I wish I could do things over. “I’ll see you at the wedding.”

…

“Uh, hello.  Can everyone hear me?”

Y/N watches with expectant eyes as Harry leans forward over the podium, his pink lips brushing against the microphone for just a moment before he takes a step back.  He looks so different than the last time she’d seen him with a microphone, she thinks.  He’s dressed so much more formally, in a striking emerald suit that matches the colour palette of the wedding, along with Y/N’s dress.  His cheeks are flushed from champagne, his eyes bright, but there’s a hint of nerves under his thick accent.  

Harry raises his fist to his mouth, clearing his throat quietly as he unfolds a piece of paper and smooths it on the podium. “For those of you who don’t know me, my name is Harry Styles.  I have had the honour of being Laure’s best man today, as well as her best friend since we were teenagers.” Harry pauses his speech to smile at Laure, the fondness for the bride apparent in his eyes. “We’ve been through a lot together—I’ve watched her go through a lot, too—and she’s always come out on the other side better than ever.  An example of this is when she made the decision—after living in England her whole life, never leaving, living in the same small brownstone for eighteen years—to move to America for university.”

Y/N lifts her champagne to her lips, taking a small sip while keeping her eyes glued to Harry.  The more he talks, the more relaxed he appears, as he naturally falls into the role of a performer again.  Out of the corner of her eye, she can practically see him charming every woman in the room, and it takes all her concentration not to roll her eyes.

“She’d made the decision a bit impulsively, and—in true Laure fashion—stuck to it like the stubborn person she is.” Harry laughs lightly, shaking his head at the memory as Jo nods in agreement beside Y/N. “She was so certain that moving was what she wanted, so determined to do it—and then the night before her flight, she showed up at my house in tears, talking about how she couldn’t possibly go through with the move.  She couldn’t leave behind everything she’d known.” Glancing down at his notes for a moment, Harry takes a deep breath before continuing. “It freaked me out a bit, I won’t lie.  To see someone who’s usually so sure of themselves question such a big decision. But I assured her that everything would be fine, that moving forward was always scary, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t the right thing to do.  Life always pushes us forward, whether we’re ready for it or not.  So Laure left, and a month later, I decided to go visit her in America, expecting to find her incredibly homesick, in tears, a mess.” A small smile begins to play at the corner of Harry’s lip. “Instead, I arrived to find her adjusted, happy, and about to go on a date with a girl she had met named Jo.”

A laugh ripples through the wedding guests, and Y/N can’t help but smile in spite of herself.  

“And I, uh…I was at a loss for words that day.” Harry’s eyes flicker to the head table, settling on the two brides with a happy smile, and yet…something in his eyes looks flatter, like he’s trapped in a deep thought. “I thought I was going to visit my friend, and comfort her, and instead I found her on a date, completely fine.  She didn’t need me to comfort her.  She was—and still is—so incredibly resilient. She always has been.”

Harry’s eyes travel again, but this time, they settle on Y/N.  She shifts in her seat as he looks her over, his eyes phasing emotions again while his tongue swipes over his lips quickly. “So anyways—” Harry quickly looks away when he catches Y/N’s eye, turning his attention back to the audience of wedding guests. “I suppose I’m the one to thank for this marriage, because if I hadn’t pushed Laure to come to America, she would never have met Jo.” An easygoing smile pulls at his pink lips as the crowd laughs lightly. “And now, Laure…you’re at that same place again.  A new beginning.  Except this time, you’re not alone.  You managed to find something that most of us…” Harry hesitates again. “Most of us spend our entire lives searching for, and when we find it, we manage to f—screw it up.” His eyes flicker to Laure’s grandmother when he catches the curse word, and Y/N hides a small laugh behind her champagne glass. “But you didn’t. You and Jo…you’re lucky.  You figured out what you wanted, and you didn’t let anything—fear, anxiety, or your…your own pride—” Harry swallows hard, his eyes flickering to Y/N once more, and the glance makes her skin burn beneath her dress. “—stop you.  You’re both an inspiration to all of us.  I love you two.  To Jo and Laure!”

Y/N murmurs the toast with the rest of the crowd, raising her glass of champagne and draining it as her head spins with Harry’s words.  A waiter walks by and quickly refills the glass, grazing by Harry as he makes his way back to his seat on Laure’s right side.  Y/N barely gives herself a moment to catch his unreadable emerald eyes before she stands, carefully picking up the hem of her dress as she walks to the podium. It’s her turn now.

Stepping up to the microphone, Y/N clears her throat, resting her free hand against the wood to steady herself. “Thank you, Harry, that was…lovely.” Y/N begins, allowing herself one more stolen look at him.  His brow is furrowed, hands folded together over the cream tablecloth as his eyes focus on her.

“My name is Y/N, and I’m the maid of honour.  Jo and I have been best friends since the first day of kindergarten, when she punched a boy in the nose for me, which, funnily enough, wasn’t the last time she’d have to do that.” A laugh rolls through the room, and Y/N gives an endeared look to Jo’s sheepish grin before turning to face the wedding guests again. “I’ve had the good fortune of having her on my side from day one, and…I know just how lucky that makes me.  There’s so many times where I’d…I wouldn’t have been able to handle what life threw at me if I didn’t have Jo with me.  She’s kind, and compassionate, and fiery, and just…the very best person I know. And if you know her, then I’m sure you’d agree.”

Y/N takes a moment to breathe, her parched tongue swiping quickly over her lips. “I’ve, um, I’ve never been a perfect person.  I’ve never been very good at…articulating what I feel, or—or making a hard choice. I’ve always followed a safer path, out of…fear, I suppose.” Not for the first time since she began talking, Y/N’s eyes travel to Harry.  He still has the same stoic expression over his features, but his eyes…she can tell he’s hanging on every word she’s saying, and is analyzing every syllable.

“But Jo has never done that.” Y/N continues, shaking her gaze from Harry to settle on her best friend. “Even when she’s been afraid, she’s pushed forward, usually dragging me along with her.  And it’s a good thing she has, because I wouldn’t have half the stories I have now if not for her.” Y/N cracks a smile. “But she just—when Jo loves you, you know it. She never hesitates to tell anyone. She never worries about it being too much.  She has the biggest heart, and if you’re lucky—really lucky—she’ll keep you inside it. And I used to worry about her, because in my mind, that was dangerous.  Being so open was so terrifying to me, I was certain that it would backfire for Jo.  And then she met Laure.”

Although it’s a struggle, Y/N manages to train her eyes on Laure without letting them travel to Harry. “Laure and Jo may seem different on the surface, but they both share giant hearts. And their differences balance each other out so perfectly.  You two—I never really believed in soul mates until I saw the two of you together.” Y/N admits, biting down hard on her lip when she catches Harry shifting in his chair from the corner of her eye. “But the way you two know each other, and speak to each other, and love each other…anyone who sees it can’t help but know that you’re meant for each other.  That you’ve been meant for each other since the beginning of time. Every choice you made, every path you took—all of it led you two to each other, because that’s what was destined to happen.  You—” Y/N’s voice catches in her throat, and she takes a moment to compose herself before speaking again. “You’re going to be happy together, because you were meant to be.  It’s as simple as that.”

Y/N knows that she can’t say anything else without beginning to unravel, so she simply raises her champagne glass in the air, deciding it’s best to leave it at that. “To Jo and Laure.”

Above the echoes of the wedding guests, Y/N can hear Harry’s unmistakable voice.

…

“‘She’s like the wind…through my tree’…”

With her champagne glass raised to her lips, Y/N pensively watches as Jo and Laure turn to the music in each other’s arms, holding one another close as the voice of Patrick Swayze drifts through the speakers.  When the pair had originally told Y/N that they wanted to dance to a song from the Dirty Dancing soundtrack for their first dance, Y/N had laughed at the choice.  Now, however, as she watches Laure brush back a strand of hair from Jo’s face, her lips drifting down to whisper something in her new wife’s ear, Y/N has to admit that the song is the perfect choice for them.

“They look happy, don’t they?”

Y/N recognizes Harry’s voice, not needing to turn her head away from the couple on the dance floor to know that he’s moved from his chair three seats down.  Although the feeling of his warm breath on her neck is enough to make her shudder, as well as bring back memories of the nights they spent together, Y/N does her best to keep herself composed.

“They do.” She agrees after a moment, setting her fluted glass down on the table.  She keeps her fingers around the base, gently gliding them over the smooth crystal absentmindedly as she finally turns her head just enough to catch a sight of Harry.

He’s moved himself to Jo’s chair, with one hand braced against the table and one hand lightly settled on the back of Y/N’s seat.  He removed his suit jacket after his speech, but his waist coat is still buttoned properly, despite the sleeves of his dress shirt now being rolled to his elbows, exposing his tattoos.  His face is just as pensive as it’s been all day, but there’s some sort of change that Y/N can’t quite put a finger on.  There’s less of a guard in his emerald eyes, she thinks, before turning her attention back to the dance floor.

“Do you…” Harry licks his lips once, swiping a hand through his carefully styled curls before brushing over the back of his neck. “Would you like to dance?  With me?”

Y/N’s movements against the crystal flute pause.  That question was the last thing she expected him to ask. “I…” Clearing her throat, she keeps her eyes focused on the swaying of Jo and Laure. “I don’t know.”

A vibration on the back of Y/N’s chair lets her know that Harry’s tapping his fingers against it, the pattern familiar after watching him play the same rhythm on the steering wheel for five days. “You don’t have to, so—don’t feel like you have to say yes.  But I just…I don’t know.  I thought it would be nice.”

Yes, Y/N thinks wistfully, pursing her lips slightly at the nervous tone in Harry’s voice.  It would be nice.  To be wrapped in his arms again, his body close enough that she can feel the pounding of his heart beneath his formal clothing.  To feel his calloused hands within her own again, and resting on her waist, pulling her closer to himself with every passing moment…

“It…” Y/N glances down for a moment, fixing a crease in her dress with careful attentiveness. “It would be nice, yeah.  Until we try ripping each other’s throats out in the middle of the wedding.”

The joke is only half a joke, and Harry’s laugh is only half in amusement. “I didn’t really plan on that.”

“Well, it seems that things we don’t plan on keep happening, so…” As the music begins to fade out, Y/N finally turns her head to look at Harry straight on. “That’s not really a reassuring statement.”

A flicker of irritation flits through Harry’s eyes, a sight that’s become familiar in all her years of knowing him. “It was a simple question, Y/N.  Do you want to dance or not?”

As Y/N’s own irritation escalates, she knows that she should say no.  The best thing for her to do right now would be to distance herself from Harry, to get some space to clear her head, and to keep herself from making a scene.  Whatever there is to talk about—if there even is something they need to talk about—can be done at a later date, preferably not in the middle of a wedding.  And yet—

“Fine.” Y/N finished off her champagne glass, setting it back down on the table gingerly as a new song begins to drift through the speakers.  “Let’s go.”

Harry stands from his seat first, extending a hand to Y/N to help her up.  Although she’s wary, she takes it, the sensation of his cool rings against her own fingers growing more and more familiar with each moment she spends touching them.  

A few more couples have joined Jo and Laure on the dance floor now, and Y/N and Harry fit right in as he leads her to the center, keeping her hand held firmly in his own as his free hand finds her waist.  Y/N rests her own hand on his shoulder, gripping his sturdy frame carefully.

“‘Is love so fragile…and the heart so hollow’…”

The song, Y/N realizes, doing her best to focus on anything but the way Harry’s gaze is locked onto her with a frightening intensity, is one that she’s heard a few times over their road trip together.  The beat of the song is as familiar as a memory as the two of them sway to it, their motions careful and controlled.

“‘You’re saying I’m fragile; I try not to be…I search only for something I can’t see’…”

Harry’s hand on her waist, Y/N can’t help but notice, is so much more unsure than it was a few nights ago, when he pulled her close on top of the bar.  When he guided her movements in a way that was so much more frenzied than he’s doing now, and in a way that she misses.  She’s missed it, that breathless feeling.  The feeling of not knowing what’s coming next, and being enthralled by the unknown of it all.

“‘I need you to love me…I need you today…give to me your leather…take from me my lace’…”

The corner of Harry’s lips quirking up ever so slightly lets Y/N know that he’s listening just as intently to the lyrics as she is, and has the same events and memories floating through his head.  His hand begins to get braver, tightening his grasp on her as his hand begins to rub gently over her hip.

“Harry…” His name slips from Y/N’s lips involuntarily as she meets his jade eyes in question.  From the corner of her eye, she can see Laure and Jo watching the two of them as they dance, whispering into each other’s ears like girls gossiping in a school hallway. “What—?”

“Sh.” The sound is soft as it falls past Harry’s red lips, the crease between his brow slackening slightly as he sighs. “Just…don’t speak.  Not right now.”

“‘You in the moonlight…with your sleepy eyes…could you ever love a man like me’…”

The request is easy enough, but Y/N can’t make herself listen to it as she cocks her head to the side, the furrow of her own brow matching Harry’s. “Why?”

“‘And you were right…when I walked into your house…I knew I’d never want to leave’…”

The breath that Harry sucks in is mostly taken through his teeth, his lips pursing immediately after as he contemplates his answer. “I just want to…remember this moment. Properly remember it, before tonight ends, and we…”

“‘Sometimes I’m a strong man…sometimes cold and scared’…”

“…We go our separate ways.” Harry finally finishes, his eyes shifting to the floor as he pulls Y/N even closer to his chest.  Her elbow is completely bent to her body as her fingers drift further from his shoulder, moving closer to where the slope of his neck begins.

Although the explanation makes sense, the thought of going a separate way from Harry catches Y/N’s breath in her throat, so much so that she can barely choke out a reply. “Okay.” She manages, the lump in her throat growing with every passing second.

“‘Lovers forever face to face…my city your mountains…stay with me stay’…”

Eyes drifting closed of their own accord, Y/N leans her head forward, settling her cheek into the curve of Harry’s shoulder.  The smell of his cologne lingers in the fabric of his emerald waistcoat, intoxicating her further with every breath she takes.

“‘I need you to love me…I need you today’…”

Something warm and soft presses against the top of Y/N’s head, and she knows that it’s Harry’s own cheek resting against her.  A gentle sigh falls from his mouth, and Y/N feels every moment of it, from the rise and fall of his chest against hers to the breath of air that blows slowly from his lips.  She memorizes the motions, something for her to play in her head again later when she’s alone on a plane back to L.A., where her regular life is waiting for her. Where Brant is waiting for her.

“‘Give to me your leather…take from me my lace’…”

Y/N quickly lifts a finger to her eye, wiping away the moisture that’s pooling on her lash line before returning her grip to Harry’s shoulder. “If I said…” She hesitates, taking the time to choose her words carefully.  She needs to choose them carefully. “If I said that I loved every moment of the road trip…would you believe me?”

“‘Lovers forever face to face…my city your mountains…stay with me stay’…”

Harry squeezes her hand in his own, his entire body tightening in response to her words, and for a moment, Y/N fears that she’s overstepped.  An apology is already forming in her mouth, about to spill from her tongue, when Harry’s response cuts her off, his voice hesitant and anxious and so quiet that she almost can’t make out the words.

“If I said that I loved every moment I’ve ever spent with you, and not just these last five days, would you believe me?”

“‘I need you to love me…I need you today’…”

Y/N’s eyes snap open, her head quickly lifting from Harry’s shoulder to look at him with wide and astonished eyes.  Although the struggle is written clearly upon his face, he doesn’t shy his eyes away from hers, and instead holds her gaze as the voice of Stevie Nicks continues to croon over the speakers.

“‘Give to me your leather…take from me my lace’…”

As the music fades out, another song begins to fade in, increasing the tempo and causing the other couples around them to break apart and mill around the dance floor.  Only Y/N and Harry stay pressed together, stuck in a bubble of all their own, frozen in a moment of change, and unable to move forward or back in the same way they once had.

Over the fabric of her dress, Y/N can feel Harry’s thumb brushing against her hip, sending electrifying pulses throughout her body.  A loose curl has fallen from his styled hair into the path of his eyes, dusting over his eyelashes lightly as he blinks.  Did she believe him, she wonders?  Could she believe him?

“Can we…” Her mouth is dry when she tries to respond, and she licks her lips quickly, noticing how Harry’s eyes flicker to follow the motion. “Can we discuss this after the wedding? I just—I don’t want to take attention away from Jo and Laure—”

“Yeah.” Harry nods roughly, his hand squeezing hers one last time before he slowly drops it, stepping back from her with great care.  Y/N has to bite her tongue to stop herself from whining in protest.

“Yeah.” Harry repeats the word as he fixes his hair, his eyes drifting from hers. “We can discuss it later.”

…

Later, after Jo and Laure cut the cake, after each of them danced with their parents; later, after the staff members began to clear the plates from every table, after everyone waved goodbye to Jo and Laure as their car drove off to the honeymoon cottage snuggled further up the mountain side; later, after guests began to depart in their own cars; later, after Harry snagged a bottle of merlot from the kitchen, after Y/N slipped off her heels during the walk back to her cabin, the feeling of the ground beneath her feet oddly comforting; later, after Y/N opened the door, allowing Harry to step in first before following…

Later is each of them standing in the kitchen, still in their formal clothes, more disheveled than they were at the start of the day, as Y/N opens the cupboard and reaches for the two largest wine glasses she can find.

“Here.” She sets them down on the counter, allowing Harry to fill them to the brim with the crimson liquid. He pushes a nearly full glass towards her before taking the other in his hand, each of them bringing the glasses to their lips for a long drink.

Harry is nervous, and Y/N can tell.  She’s gotten a bit better at reading him over their journey together, and she can see the anxiety that’s running through him in his body language.  However, although the tapping of his fingers, the rubbing of his lips, and the crease between his brow is a major indication, she knows the real reason she’s aware of Harry’s nerves is because she’s hyper aware of her own.

“You, uh—” Harry clears his throat quietly, the action half reflex, half habit. “You looked really pretty today.  Beautiful, actually.”

A light flush heats Y/N’s cheeks, both from the wine and his compliment. “Thank you.” She murmurs, glancing down at her forest coloured dress. “I’m just glad the dress survived the car.”

A chuckle falls from Harry’s lips as he lifts his wine glass again. “Yeah.  A real miracle, huh?”

Y/N taps her fingers anxiously against the kitchen island, the coolness of the countertop a nice contrast to her heated skin. “Well, considering all the things that didn’t survive…” She trails off, watching as Harry’s face falls when the meaning of her words washes over him.

Still, Harry steels his shoulders, resolve painting itself over his pained features. “You mean us, yeah?” His tone is blunt and to the point. “After we…?”

“I just—what the fuck was that, Harry?” Y/N asks, her voice every bit as exasperated and exhausted as she feels. “I thought we—and then you—and now, saying you—you’ve always…?”

“I know I’ve been—I know I fucked up.” Harry drops his head, shame clear in his voice as he twists a ring around one of his fingers. “I know that, Y/N.  I’m so sorry—”

“I’m just so confused, Harry.  Really, I—” The words spill out of her now, faster than they ever have. “I know we were drunk when we fucked, but I…I liked it.  And the next morning felt so good, and so right, and then Brant called, and it was like…a switch flipped inside you.  And you called us a mistake.  So I just—I don’t understand how you could say that less than forty-eight hours ago, and then tell me you’ve always loved being around me tonight.”

Harry’s tongue swipes over his lips once before he inhales slowly, collecting and preparing himself for the conversation. “I’m sorry.” He says lowly, his accent thicker with remorse. “I didn’t want to—I felt like it was a mistake, but not because of anything you did.  It was because I knew that I had feelings for you, and I knew that you didn’t have feelings for me.”

The admission of his feelings was clear in his speech before he actually spoke the words, but the verbal acknowledgement of them still leaves an ache in Y/N’s chest as she refutes the statement. “You didn’t know that!” She says hotly, her hand tightening around her glass with every breath. “You wouldn’t let us talk about it, so how could you know?”

“Because Brant called!” While Harry’s voice doesn’t raise in volume, it does in intensity. “Brant called, and asked you to dinner, and you said yes!”

“What, did you want me to break things off with him right then and there?  Over the phone?” Y/N demands, an incredulous look on her face as she appraises Harry. “I’m not a bitch, Harry.  That would be heartless, and I’m not—I don’t want to hurt anyone. And maybe, maybe, it would be different if I felt anything for Brant, anything that was even a fraction of what I’ve felt for you, the good and the bad, but I don’t!”

Y/N’s words hang heavy in the air between them, flickering through the room like the dim light of the light fixture above them.  There’s just enough light, however, that she can watch as her words roll over Harry, sinking into every pore of his body until all the defiance rolls out of him.

“What—” His voice cracks with emotion, and he takes a moment to compose himself before he tries again. “What do you feel for me?”

Turning her eyes down to her wine, she raises the glass to her lips, draining more than half of it in one swift motion.  When she speaks again, her voice is slick with the liquor. “What does it matter?” She asks softly. “If you couldn’t believe it enough to not try to push me away the moment I let myself be vulnerable?”

“It wasn’t—your vulnerability wasn’t apparent to me.” Harry lifts the wine bottle automatically, refilling Y/N’s glass with merlot. “It was mine that scared me.  Brant called, and you spoke to him, and I felt like—it was like that first date all over again, when you gave your attention to that guy from your class.  I felt…” Staring into his own wine, Harry mulls over his words as if the liquor can reveal the perfect thing to say. “I felt like a jealous teenager again, like a proper idiot.  And I—you’ve always been so much more put together than me, and refined, and steady, and Brant clearly fits into your world neatly, so I—”

“Stop fucking doing that.” Y/N’s voice is as sharp as ice, as harsh as frostbite. “How many times can we prove to each other that we’re more than our projections of the last seven years?  How many times until it sticks?”

Harry studies Y/N’s face, his emerald eyes scanning over every slope and curve of her expression before he replies. “I didn’t think you felt anything for me.  I’m still not…sure…”

“Harry, I feel—I feel everything with you.” Y/N’s voice drops to a hushed whisper, as if what she’s admitting is top secret. “I feel like I can be myself.  I can be as stupid or serious as I need to be, and you’ll just…accept it.  The only person I’ve ever felt that with before is Jo.  No one else.  And it—it’s terrifying, but good, and then you pushed me away again, and that fucking hurt.  You have the ability to hurt me now, and the moment you got it, you did.”

“I didn’t know.” Harry mumbles the words, rubbing his hand over his flushed cheeks slowly. “I’m so sorry, Y/N.  If I’d known—”

“But you didn’t even ask. You can’t do that, okay?” When Y/N looks up at him, she can see the vulnerability on her face reflected in Harry’s eyes. “Please.  I don’t care if you get jealous, or angry, or—or anything else that’s as irritating as I know you can be—” A soft snort echoes from Harry. “Just be honest with me. Tell me.  Ask me.”

“What about…” Harry reaches across the kitchen island, taking Y/N’s hand in his own and rubbing his thumb over her knuckles. “What I said to you earlier?  I told you how I felt.   And I asked what you feel for me.  Can you be honest with me about that?”

“I can.” Y/N says carefully, pursing her lips for a moment. “I…I’m not sure if I’m ready to say something as…decisive as you do.  I’ve never really—I know that I feel…more intensely for you than I ever have for anyone else.  I just don’t know…how intense, or…I can’t describe it.”

“Maybe I can help.” Harry tugs gently on Y/N’s arm, bringing her around the kitchen island to his side of the room.  With his hand still holding hers, he leads her to the couch, sitting down and pulling her with him.  He’s mindful of the skirt of her dress, fixing it carefully so that it doesn’t get caught beneath her. “To me, love is…wanting to be near the other person. Do you want to be near me?”

Y/N nods softly. “I do.” She whispers into the darkness, the cabin quiet save for their breathing and the chirping of crickets outside.

“And what about…” Harry lifts a hand to caress her face, his calloused fingers gentle against her warm skin as he brushes over her cheekbone. “This?  Do you like being touched by me?”

Y/N’s skin burns beneath his touch. “I do.  A lot, actually.”

“And even when we were arguing…when we weren’t speaking to each other, and wouldn’t look at each other…” Harry worries his bottom lip between his teeth, the motion staining his lips an even darker pink than they were before. “Did you want me as badly as I wanted you?”

Harry’s other hand begins to rub Y/N’s thigh over her dress, still heating her skin even with the layers of fabric preventing actual contact.  Y/N’s eyelids flutter at the sensation. “Yes.” She breathes, leaning her head against the back of the couch. “I did.  I still do.”

“Obviously, I…I’d like it if you could know exactly how you feel, but…” Harry shrugs slightly, his hand drifting down to rest on the side of Y/N’s neck. “I know that it’s different for you.  You’re not used to it.  You don’t have to put a label on it, yeah?  I just want you to be comfortable with me.  As long as you’re mine, you can take as long as you need to express how you feel.”

Relief spreads through Y/N’s body at Harry’s words.  The freedom to take her time, to feel like she doesn’t need to have all the answers right away, is something that none of her past partners have ever offered her, and a familiar sensation begins to curl itself around Y/N’s core as Harry caresses her neck. “Yours?” She repeats slowly, her senses feeling like they’re processing through molasses. “Am I yours?”

“I’d like you to be.” The corner of Harry’s pink lip pulls up, but there’s an air of anxiety in his words. “Are you?”

The fabric of her dress swishes beneath Y/N as she pulls herself into Harry’s, managing to settle one knee of either side of him beneath the layers of tulle. “I am.” She murmurs, her hands wrapping themselves around his sturdy shoulders.  Their noses bump together as she moves closer, breath mingling in the small space between their lips. “I’ll be yours.”

Harry’s breath washes over her as he sighs gently, the fragrance of merlot and champagne settling on the back of her tongue. “Laure and Jo will be happy.”

A small laugh, mostly an exhale of breath more than anything else, sounds from Y/N as she twists the curls at the nape of Harry’s neck between her fingers. “Mmm.  Probably because they won’t have to break up any more fights.”

“No, no, we’ll still fight. It keeps things interesting.” Harry’s lips curl into a satisfied smirk, his nose brushing over Y/N’s once more as he tilts his head to the side. “We’ll just have a lot more fun when we make up with each other.”

Harry’s fingers find the bare expanse of Y/N’s back between the straps of her dress, gliding his fingertips over her warm skin.  The sensation of his cool touch against her sends a shiver up her spine, and she twists herself closer to him in return, but keeps the inch gap between their lips. There’s an anticipation between them, but also a stubbornness.  A refusal to be the first one to break.

“A lot more fun?” Y/N questions, massaging the tips of her fingers into Harry’s scalp.  She lets her painted nails scratch along him gently, just enough to make his eyelids flutter at the sensation. “What exactly do you mean?”

“I could tell you…” Harry purrs his words, pressing his head back into the palm of her hand. “Or I could show you.  It’s up to you.”

His words offer Y/N a choice.  Will she continue to push him?  Or will she give in?

When her hands retreat from his hair, Harry whines quietly, his half lidded eyes staring up at her in confusion.  Y/N braces herself against his shoulders as she carefully removes herself from his lap, picking up the fabric of her dress with one hand while grabbing the half empty bottle of wine with the other.

Harry watches as she takes a step backwards, her eyes glued to his as she appraises him.  As comfortable—and as attractive—as he looks on the couch with his emerald slack covered legs spread, sleeves half rolled up, chest heaving from their close contact, Y/N needs him somewhere else.

Harry’s tongue glides slowly over his parted lips as Y/N raises the bottle of wine to her mouth, taking a small sip before turning on her heel and walking to the staircase that leads up to the master bedroom of the cabin.  She only gets two steps up the stairs before she feels Harry’s hot breath on the back of her neck, his back and arms bracing against her as she climbs slowly.  With one hand still holding her dress out of her way, Y/N steps over the summit of the stairs, not waiting for Harry before she makes her way to the bedroom.

The bedroom itself has been tidied by the hotel staff since Y/N last saw it, and she’s never been more thankful for it; she and Jo had left it in a mess in their efforts to get ready that morning.  Instead, the staff have perfectly made the bed, complete with all the decorative pillows that Y/N had tossed onto the floor the night before, set fresh candles on the night tables and dresser, and left carefully rolled white towels on the edge of the bed.

A pair of tattooed arms wrap around Y/N’s waist, and a smile lights up her face as she falls back into Harry’s strong chest. “Your room is lovely.  Much nicer than those motels.” He rasps in her ear, teeth just barely grazing her lobe as he speaks. “Do you have a lighter for the candles?”

“You want to light candles?” Y/N raises an eyebrow as she drops her dress from her hand in order to trail her fingers over Harry’s wrist. “That’s a bit much, isn’t it?”

Pressing a light kiss to her neck, Harry shakes his head. “No, I don’t think so.” He murmurs. “We were so rushed last time.  I want to enjoy tonight.”

A smile creeps over Y/N’s face as she carefully unlaces Harry’s hands from her waist. “The lighter is in the bedside table, on the left.”

As Harry turns his attention to searching through the drawer, Y/N sets the wine down on the dresser, appraising her reflection in the mirror propped on top of it.  She begins to unpin the hair that had been carefully styled that morning, her hair only a fraction as put together as it had been. Setting the pins down on the wood surface in front of her, she takes her time taking off her earrings and bracelets, her eyes following Harry’s movements in the mirror.

The broad expanse of his back is still covered by his green waistcoat, rumpled as it stretches over the slope of his body.  With each movement, a new flicker of candlelight begins to glow in front of him, illuminating the silhouette of his body with soft flickers of orange and yellow.

“You’re a bit of a romantic, aren’t you?” The question slips from Y/N’s lips before she’s turned around completely to watch Harry’s actions without the aid of the mirror. “You like this sort of thing—the candles, the cabin in the forest, coming from a wedding…”

Harry’s body shakes as a laugh rolls through him, his side profile barely visible as he turns to light another candle next to the bed. “I suppose I am, yeah.  Are you not?”

Y/N gives half a shrug, tucking her now loose hair behind her ears as best she can. “I don’t know. I’ve never really considered myself one…never saw the point in grand gestures.  They’re not very realistic.”

“They don’t have to be realistic.  That’s why it’s a grand gesture.” Harry says easily, sauntering towards her with a dimpled grin on his face.  He reaches carefully behind Y/N, his thumb flicking the lighter to spark as he tilts the candle towards the flame. “And I’d hardly call candles a grand gesture. Haven’t you ever been properly romanced?”

Y/N tugs her bottom lip between her teeth as she contemplates the question. “Not…really? I mean, there’s been a few things, but nothing…I don’t know.  We were always busy—”

“You can always make time for someone if you want to.” Harry sets the lit candle back down on the dresser, repeating the motion with two more before setting the lighter down as well. “Hasn’t Brant ever—well, I know he hasn’t, actually—” A snort leaves Harry’s mouth as he begins to run his hands over Y/N’s bare shoulders, massaging the skin gently. “Haven’t any of your exes asked you what you wanted, or…done something spontaneous for you, like a surprise gift, or trip, or…?”

Harry trails off as he registers the expression on Y/N’s face, and feels the tensing of her shoulders beneath his hands. “Um, not really.” She says, doing her best to keep her tone light. “We were always very…scheduled.  A surprise trip wasn’t really feasible.”

The corner of Harry’s mouth tugs down into a frown, his hands continuing to work over the knots in Y/N’s shoulders as he turns her around.  He presses himself behind her, moving her hair to one side of her neck before pressing a gentle kiss to the top of her spine. “The more we speak, the more I see why you’re so guarded, love.” He murmurs, his tone carefully controlled. “You don’t need to be like that with me.  If you’re…afraid of what I’ll think, or…you know I tease you, but you’re always fine with me.  We can be serious—”

“No.” Y/N shakes her head adamantly, glancing at Harry over the curve of her own shoulder as she rests one hand over his own. “I don’t want to be serious.  I’m so sick of being serious.” She maneuvers Harry’s hand to her back as she speaks, guiding his fingers until they find the zipper of her dress. “I like that you tease me, and aren’t afraid to irritate me, and how you care enough to listen to what I say…”

The sound of her zipper slowly being tugged down pricks Y/N’s ears, and she watches Harry’s movement in the mirror.  There’s a clear look of concentration painted onto his expression as he helps remove her dress, but the moment he catches her eye, he locks into her gaze.  As he finishes pulling down the zipper, he keeps his emerald eyes glued to hers in the reflective surface, his stare becoming more and more hypnotic with every passing second.

“So what you’re saying is…” Harry’s lips brush against her ear as he leans closer to her, pressing a sensual kiss right over her pulse point. “You want me to romance you, but still annoy the shit out of you?”

Although it’s breathless, the sound that leaves Y/N’s mouth is unmistakably a laugh as Harry begins to trail kisses down her neck, slipping the strap of her dress down her shoulder. “Yes. It’s oddly endearing.”

“Oddly endearing is my middle name.” Harry’s laugh matches hers as his hands continue their task of removing her clothing.  Once Y/N’s straps are free of her shoulders, Harry helps her step out of the hunter green dress, carefully maneuvering the full skirt to the corner chair without creasing it.

“Wouldn’t want to ruin your pretty dress, now would—” Harry freezes mid sentence as he turns back around, his mouth falling slack as if seeing Y/N for the first time.

Despite having been naked and underneath his body less than forty eight hours ago, Y/N crosses her arms over her body.  The black teddy bodysuit she’d purchased to wear under her bridesmaid dress had, at the time of purchase, been more for practicality than anything.  The underwire of the strapless bra supported by the corseted middle was comfortable enough to keep her properly situated in her dress without a wardrobe malfunction, as well as serving as a barrier between Y/N’s sensitive skin and the stitched seams of the gown.  It’s not until this moment, with Harry staring at her with a hungry stupor in his eyes, does Y/N realize how racy the undergarment is.

“What?” She says after a moment, a note of uncertainty creeping into her voice. “I—it’s not like you haven’t seen me before.”

The nerves woven into her tone are enough to snap Harry from his thoughts. “This is…different.” He approaches her again, his steps slow and measured as he lays a hand on her lace covered side. “I was pissed last time I had you…didn’t get to properly take in the sight of you…” Harry scratches his nails over one of the mesh panels, his jade eyes darkening another shade once more.

“I didn’t get to enjoy you, either.  And yet you’re still fully clothed.” Y/N begins to fiddle with the buttons of Harry’s emerald waistcoat, working them open one by one as she forces herself to steady her breathing. “That’s not very fair, is it?”

“I suppose it’s not. Not fair at all.” Harry allows her to pull his waistcoat from his body, and it’s not until Y/N reaches the third button of his button down shirt that she realizes how much he’s enjoying her undressing him.

Every breath that Harry takes is ragged and shallow, his chest heaving with the effort to keep himself controlled as Y/N’s fingers trail down the exposed skin of his chest.  The sight of Harry’s throat tightening as her nails scrape his skin is too much for her to resist, and she quickly attaches her lips to the base of his neck as she pulls the now unbuttoned shirt from his body.

Swiping her tongue over the new mark at the base of his throat, Y/N manages to pull a moan from Harry, and her lips pull back into a small smile against his hot skin at the sound. “You sound really nice when you do that.” She murmurs, her hand trailing down to his belt as she speaks.

She can feel Harry swallow again, and when he replies, his voice is as low as she’s ever heard it. “Then you’ll have to make me do it more, won’t you, pet?” His eyes are blown darker with lust as he grips Y/N’s hips tight, pressing the pads of his fingers into her flesh. “Are you going to give me moans that are just as pretty?  Or am I going to have to pull them from your stubborn little mouth?”  

Y/N’s breath hitches in her chest at his dominant tone, her mouth falling open in a gasp against Harry’s collar bones.  She can feel the vibrations of his laugh in her lips, the tingle not unlike the burning she feels in her core, and Harry’s hand travels from her hips to her chin as the burning increases.

“Cat got your tongue, hm?” Harry grips Y/N’s chin between his thumb and forefinger as she fumbles with his belt, the action clumsier without her looking at her movements. “Don’t get all shy now, m’love.  It’s just me. We’ve been here before.”

Pulling his belt from his dress pants, Y/N tosses it to the side, her fingers resting on the warm skin of Harry’s abdomen. “I know.  It just feels different now, that’s all.  After everything we said, and…” Her eyes are unable to hold his as she drifts off, and she drops her gaze to his swallow tattoos as her cheeks redden.

A gentle tap on her chin brings her eyes back to meet Harry’s intense gaze. “I know it feels different, but that’s not bad.” Harry’s voice softens as his thumb begins to stroke over her skin, the motion slow and gentle. “It can be really good, actually. I told you, I can properly enjoy you now.  If you’ll let me, that is.  It’s up to you.”

Y/N takes a deep breath, dragging her teeth over her bottom lip as she reaches behind her back.  Her fingers quickly find the laces at the back of the garment, and she pulls the tie undone slowly, making sure to keep her eyes locked with Harry’s the entire time. “I want that.  I want you, Harry.  I want…all of you.”

She barely has her laces undone before Harry is grasping at her hips, pulling her body tight against his again for another desperate kiss.  His lips glide between hers smoothly, fitting together like two pieces of a puzzle before he lets his teeth nip at her bottom lip, tugging at the flesh in a hungry way.  With her lingerie hanging loosely off her body, Harry easily yanks the material down her body, fully exposing Y/N’s breasts and stomach.  

The sight of her exposed skin is enough to grab Harry’s attention from the removal of clothing, and he leaves the lace bodysuit hanging at her hips as his kisses begin to travel down her jaw, her neck, her collar bones, to her breasts.  A breathless gasp falls from Y/N’s mouth as Harry’s open mouthed kisses become wetter and longer, until his hot mouth is wrapped around her stiff nipple.

“Harry—” Y/N tangles a hand in his already ruined curls, yanking hard at his hair as his teeth scrape against her sensitive skin. “God, be careful—”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Harry murmurs the phrase against her breast, barely pulling his mouth off enough to speak.  His eyes, although half lidded with lust, flicker up to her with a playful look. “Y’really want me to be careful, pet?  Or do you want me to devour you?”

His words send another flood of heat to her core, and it takes all of Y/N’s focus to keep herself standing upright. “Shut up.” She mutters, voice pitched higher than normal as she tugs on Harry’s hair again, half in need and half to solicit a groan from him.

The groan he emits, however, just adds more sensation to his teasing as the sound causes a vibration against her nipple, and Y/N barely manages to pull Harry away from her before her knees buckle.

Harry, however, wastes no time, and it’s only the moment after Y/N pulls him off of her that he’s kissing her again, teeth clacking against teeth as he backs her up towards the bed.  When the back of her legs hits the mattress, Y/N stumbles back, but Harry catches her in time to lower her gently to the bed.

There’s an unmistakable tenderness in the movement, and the action catches Y/N right in the throat. “Thought you weren’t being careful?” Despite her ribbing tone, Y/N’s voice is breathless as she settles back into the soft sheets. “Isn’t that what you just said, pet?”

A growl rips from the back of Harry’s throat as he cages himself over her shaking body, his mouth already reattached to her chest to leave a fresh trail of bruises from her sternum to her abdomen. “You’re such a bloody minx, y’know that?”

Although she opens her mouth to reply, the only sound that leaves Y/N’s lips is a gasp as Harry quickly lifts her hips to pull her teddy completely off, tossing it to the side without so much as a glance.  He leaves one last bite on her lower abdomen, just hard enough to leave an imprint of his mouth, before soothing the mark with a wet swipe of his tongue over the red skin.

“Knees up, minx.” Harry’s accent is thick, dripping from his voice like honey as his hands rub her lower calves, helping to push them up on the bed until Y/N’s legs are bent and spread open in a position he likes.  The way that Harry’s tongue swipes over his lips tells Y/N of his intentions right away, and she braces herself on her elbows on the bed before pulling back.

Harry, who had been leaving open mouthed kisses along Y/N’s knees, makes a disgruntled sound at the loss of contact. “Where do y’think you’re going?” He asks in frustration, pulling himself onto the bed and crawling after her.  Gripping one of her ankles, he spreads her open again, resuming the path his mouth had been making to her core a moment ago. “Trying to get away from me?”

A breathless laugh falls from Y/N’s mouth. “More like trying to get comfortable.  It’s been so long since I’ve had someone…” Despite Harry’s position between her legs, Y/N can’t bring herself to say the words.

“Had someone what? Eat your cunt?” Harry asks crudely, raising an eyebrow as he kisses her inner thigh.  His hot breath rolls over her core, causing Y/N to sigh as she relaxes back into the sheets. “That’s a tragedy, love.  Especially when you taste so sweet.  I remember from a few nights ago…I just barely got a taste when we…”

She should know better, Y/N thinks.  She should know, now that she knows Harry well enough, that something like this is coming, especially since it’s exactly what he did last time he was between her legs. Still, when his ringed index finger runs quickly between her folds, becoming coated in her wetness just for Harry to pop it into his mouth like a satisfied and smug ass, Y/N half jumps off the bed.

“Sensitive, are you?” Harry laughs around his finger, taking great care to lick off every bit of her wetness. “Just as sensitive as you are sweet.”

Y/N struggles to prop herself up on her elbows, doing her best to give him a scathing look. “You could’ve warned me, you—”

Her complaint is cut off abruptly by Harry licking over her slit with the flat of his tongue, collecting every drop of arousal before suctioning his lips over her clit. “What was that?” He mutters between his actions, flicking his tongue over Y/N’s clit as she grasps the sheets between her fingers. “I didn’t quite catch it, love.”

Falling back onto the pillows, Y/N allows her eyes to close for just a moment as she twists the cotton sheets between her hands. “Shut—shut up.” She moans, one hand releasing the sheets to latch onto Harry’s curls.  She tugs harshly, and the moan he releases sends shivers from her core into her spine.

Although Harry laughs against her, his smirk detectable against her folds as his tongue continues to work over her, a silence falls between them as he continues to eat her out. It shouldn’t be surprising, she manages to think as she tugs on his curly locks, that Harry is giving her the best oral she’s ever received.  Everything he does to her, from irritating her, making her laugh, to pleasuring her, is so intense that it only makes sense.

Harry’s tongue dips inside Y/N’s entrance, proving that thought to be true for what seems to be the millionth time that night.  Y/N can’t help but writhe on the sheets now, her body unable to contain the pleasure that’s building inside her core like never before.

When a gasping whine echoes from Y/N, a sound she’s never even heard herself make before, one of Harry’s hands moves from its position on her thigh, where he’s been holding her open so he can continue to work.  It travels up her leg to her pelvis, pressing flat on her lower abdomen and keeping her hips secure to the bed.

“You’re going to cum for me, aren’t you, pet?” Harry’s mouth is red, coated with her wetness when he glances at her.  He begins to rub circles on her abdomen, both soothing her and creating an ache deep inside her that she knows can only be satisfied by his cock. “You’re going to be a good girl and cum on my mouth, yeah?”

Y/N whimpers in response, barely managing to keep her eyes open as she nods desperately. “I-I need—your fingers, or—”

“No, no, pet, you don’t need that.” Harry assures her between long licks over her clit. “I’ll fill you later, but you’re going to cum from my mouth.  I know you can do it, love.  I know you can.”

“I—” Harry’s hand pressed to her abdomen is the only thing keeping Y/N from rutting her hips into the air in desperation. “Please, Harry, I—”

“You can do it.” Breath hot against her entrance, Harry dips his tongue within her again, moving it in and out slowly as his nose brushes against her sensitive bundle of nerves. “You—fuck—you’re so ready, Y/N, I know you can do it…just relax, pet…let go…”

Let go.  The command is so simple, and yet, isn’t that all Y/N’s ever wanted?  Isn’t that exactly what Harry has managed to allow her to do this entire trip?  No sooner does the thought cross her mind that Harry’s teeth graze over her clit, tweaking it ever so gently before pressing the flat of his tongue against it once more.  He gives a harsh suck, mouthing something she can’t understand, and then Y/N is tugging on his chestnut curls with a renewed desperation as she falls over the brink of pleasure.

“Harry, Harry, Harry…” His name is the only thing Y/N can repeat as she orgasms, her head falling back against the pillows while the waves of her pleasure wash over her.

Harry untangles her hand from the sheets, weaving his fingers through her own to give her something solid to hold onto as she loses herself in the sensations.  Although he keeps his mouth pressed to her, his actions are gentler, just licking the wetness that drips from her entrance as she rides out her orgasm.

It takes a few moment for the pleasure to recede enough that Y/N can become aware of her surroundings again. Chest heaving, she lolls her head to the side, her hand falling from Harry’s curls and onto the crumpled sheets.

Harry finally pulls away from her then, pulling himself from between her legs to the side of Y/N’s shaking body.  He licks his wet lips, savouring the last drops of her arousal before pressing softer kisses to her stomach, her sternum, her collar bones, until he reaches her lips.

“You alright, love?” Harry asks, voice quiet in the hum of the night as he settles beside her.  He brushes a sweaty strand of hair from her forehead, and the motion is so gentle that Y/N almost tears up. “Just take some deep breaths.”

“I—” Y/N sucks in another breath as Harry wraps an arm around her stomach. “I’m alright.  Just…trying to catch my breath.” She laughs nervously as her cheeks redden in a post-orgasm haze. “You’re, uh, you’re really good at that.”

Harry’s laugh is much more amused than hers. “Thank you.  I quite enjoy it, so it would be rather sad if I wasn’t good at it.”

“That’s true.” Y/N hums, rolling her head onto Harry’s shoulder.  He rubs small circles on her waist, and the action gives her something to focus on as she evens her breathing.

Harry sighs in satisfaction. “You know, if you had shagged Brant, I doubt his cunnilingus skills would have been as good as mine.” He says thoughtfully, as if he’s been pondering the idea for a while.

Y/N groans, bracing her hand against is muscled chest to shove him away. “Do not mention Brant while I’m lying next to you naked!  Christ, I shouldn’t have to say that!”

Harry laughs as he readjusts himself, pulling his body over hers while his lips work against her neck. “I’m sorry.  I won’t bring him up again, I swear.”

Huffing slightly, Y/N settles herself back into the sheets. “Good.”

“But for the record—”

“If you keep speaking, I’m not giving you a blowjob.” Y/N warns, shooting Harry a warning glance. “Are you prepared to give that up?”

The speed at which Harry’s face falls is almost comical.  His brow creases as his ruby lips pull down into a pout, his arms keeping himself suspended above Y/N as he relents. “Alright, I’m sorry.  Truly, I am.  I’ll stop.”

Y/N tugs her bottom lip between her teeth as her eyes focus on Harry’s shining green irises. “Good, because I really want to blow you.”

The crude admission catches Harry by surprise, his eyebrows jumping up in shock as he rolls to the side. Propping himself up on his elbow, he rakes a hand through his messy curls as he answers with a measured tone. “You do?”

Y/N nods slowly, pushing herself up to sit on her knees as one of her hands begins to trace over the muscles of Harry’s chest. “I do.  Like you said…I didn’t get to last time.  And I bet you taste good.”

Harry sucks in a breath through his teeth as he gives a sharp nod. “Yeah.  Okay.  If you want to—”

“I do.” Y/N presses on Harry’s chest to push him back again, but this time she does it carefully, settling him back into the sheets like he did for her.  Moving so that she’s on her knees beside him, she gives him a quick kiss, only letting herself enjoy his slightly chapped lips against hers for a moment before she directs her attention to the bulge in his Calvin Klein boxers.

Y/N trails a finger over the line of hair leading to the waistband, feeling the muscles of Harry’s abdomen contract under her finger. “Sensitive, huh?” She asks quietly, mimicking what he had said to her before earlier.

Harry inhales deeply, his eyes fluttering shut at the sensation. “Yeah.  So don’t tease me.”

“I’m not.  I’m just…warming you up.” Y/N continues the motion for a moment before her fingers drift to the elastic of his boxers.  She dips a finger beneath it, continuing to tease his abdomen before leaning down and pressing a kiss to his clothed bulge.

Harry’s hips jerk in reaction, his mouth falling open as he spits out a curse. “Bloody hell…”

“Feel good?” Y/N only lifts her mouth enough so that the soft murmur can be heard.  She can feel Harry’s cock twitching as her lips move over it, and the thought that she’s turning him on enough for him to twitch in his boxers sends a flood of heat between her thighs.

“Feels really good, yeah.” Harry’s adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, and the effort it takes to keep his voice controlled is apparent on his face. “Keep going.”

Y/N hums in response, hooking her fingers into the waistband of his boxers and slowly pulling them down his legs as Harry lifts his hips.  She waits until his boxers are completely removed to turn her attention back to his cock, and the sight of it makes her mouth water.

It’s just as big as she remembers, with a slight curve along the length leading to the red and leaking head. Y/N can practically see the heat radiating off of it, she thinks, and when she wraps her hand around the base, her suspicions are confirmed.

The weak groan that falls from Harry’s cherry red lips is the only thing that keeps Y/N from getting completely distracted by admiring him.  She pumps him slowly a few times, and his length throbs in her hand as more blood floods to his pelvis.  Licking her lips once, Y/N leans down and gives a small kitten lick to the leaking tip, collecting the precum on her tongue.

A garbled moan sounds from Harry’s chest, and Y/N watches from the corner of her eye as one hand tucks into his own curls before the other gathers her hair within his fist. Although he’s holding her, he doesn’t force her down, or try to guide her motions.  He wants to see what she’s going to do of her own accord.

Y/N takes her time, licking slowly from the head of Harry’s cock to one of the pulsing veins that runs down his shaft.  She traces the line with the tip of her tongue, enjoying the sounds that the action pulls from Harry before taking the head of his cock between her lips. Mindful of her teeth, she sucks slowly, pushing herself further and further down his length until her nose is just touching his pelvis.

“That’s it, minx.” Harry moans his words, his voice breathless and strained as he cards his fingers through her hair.  His flushed chest is rising and falling prominently as Harry takes deep breath after deep breath. “Doing so well, aren’t you?”

The praise sends a wave of delight through Y/N, and she begins to bob her head faster, working what she can’t fit into her mouth with her hand.  Harry, she learns, is extremely vocal during sex, which isn’t exactly surprising now that she knows him better.  Still, his moans and whimpers are all the encouragement Y/N needs to keep her pace, slowing down only to tease him.  And she loves to tease him.

“Fuck—” A groan rips from Harry’s chest as Y/N slows her motions again, trailing her tongue up his length before focusing on his tip with great interest. “C’mon, darling, don’t be mean to me.  I wasn’t mean to you.”

“I’m just enjoying myself, Harry.” Y/N says innocently, batting her eyes at him as she kisses the head of his cock. “Don’t you want me to enjoy myself?”

The question is simple enough, but the sinful context makes Harry buck his hips into her hand. “Y’know I do, pet, but you’re torturing me…”

Y/N lifts her mouth from his length with a quiet pop as her strokes slow down. “Am I?”

“Fucking hell—” Another moan forces its way through Harry’s clenched teeth. “You won’t be laughing when I’m fucking you at the same pace you’re teasing me right now.”

Y/N’s movements stutter for the first time since she began. “What?”

“Didn’t think of that, did you, minx?  Thought you could tease me, and I wouldn’t get you back?” Although Harry’s words are domineering, he pants through them, throwing his head back against the pillow. “That—Christ—That’s not how it works.”

Speeding up her stroking of his length, Y/N leans over Harry’s body, sponging a kiss just at the corner of his lips. “You don’t mean that, Harry.  You need to fuck me just as badly as I need it.”

“You need it, do you?” Harry’s eyes snap open, lust completely clouding the jade green of his irises. “How badly?  Tell me.”

Y/N kisses him once more, pulling back the moment his tongue tries to pull her in for more.  She returns her mouth to the tip of his cock, letting her tongue flick over his slit before sucking on him again. “So badly, Harry. I’ve never felt as full as I did with you in me…”

“Oh fuck…” Harry’s words slip into drawn out moans as he tugs on his own hair, his hips stuttering up into her hand again. “Stop.”

The sudden command makes Y/N pause, and she pulls her mouth off of Harry’s length to stare up at him with wide eyes. “What?” Her hand pauses its motions, but stays wrapped loosely around his base. “Is—is everything okay?  Did I hurt you?”

The concern and fear in Y/N’s voice is enough to snap Harry out whatever headspace he had been slipping into. “No, pet, you didn’t hurt me.  I just need to be inside your tight cunt.  Can’t stand another moment without it, if I’m honest.”

The twitch of his cock in her hands confirms his words, and Y/N gives one last lick to its biggest vein before releasing him.  She keeps her mouth in use, however, by sponging kisses up Harry’s already marked chest, stopping only once she reaches his lips.

The kiss they share is passionate, with a rhythm finally established between the two of them as Harry slots his plump lips neatly between hers.  There’s no awkward turning of their heads, trying to find a way to slip a tongue into a mouth, and no teeth clicking together.  Already, each of them knows the best way to fit together, as if they were meant to all along.

“How do you—” Harry mutters the words against Y/N’s lips, his breath flowing into her own panting mouth with every gasp. “How do you want me, love?”

Y/N takes a moment to think, but only a moment. “On top.  I like…” Her cheeks flush with even more heat. “I like feeling you over me. And holding your hands…”

Harry raises a surprised brow at the confession she spills into his mouth. “My hands?”

Forehead still pressed against his, Y/N nods, picking up one of his hands and lacing his ringed fingers through her own. “Mhmm.  They’re strong, and…and they fit in mine so nicely.” Y/N glances at Harry through her lashes, shy despite having his cock in her mouth less than a minute ago.  It’s the intimacy, she realizes.  A sexual act is nothing new to her, but putting emotion behind it…

“They do fit together well, don’t they?” Harry agrees, squeezing her hand as he leans forward, pressing puckered lips to her forehead. “Alright, then.  Lie down for me.”

After Harry grabs a condom from Y/N’s bag and rolls it on, it takes a moment for the two of them to get positioned comfortably.  Y/N leans back on the rumpled sheets, fixing one of the pillows behind her head with Harry’s help.  Once he knows that she’s comfortable, Harry spreads Y/N’s legs again, situating himself between them with his arms propped up on either side of her body.

Although it’s the same position as the last time they had sex, Y/N can’t help but feel like it’s entirely different in every single aspect.  While the drunken need that she felt for Harry had been exciting, and while he had satisfied her incredibly, there’s something different about knowing that she has feelings for the man who’s so interested in pleasuring her, and that he has feelings for her in return.

Harry moves one hand to his length, rubbing the tip of it between Y/N’s soaked folds as his other hand grasps her own. “Are you ready?” He murmurs, his lips hovering just over her own.

Y/N nods quickly, squeezing his hand tightly. “Please, H.  I need it.”

The first thrust into her is slow.  Painstakingly slow.  Y/N knows that she should be appreciative of the restrain Harry has, and that she needs a moment to adjust to his size, but the way he stretches her makes her feel so complete that she can’t help but whine for more.

“Faster, Harry.” She pants, squeezing her eyes shut as he continues to enter her slick entrance. “I…”

“Sh, love.  Just spreading you open first, yeah?” The effort to control himself shows through the strain in his voice, but Harry still manages to sponge a quick kiss over her lips. “Besides…I warned you, didn’t I?  Said I’d tease you if you teased me…”

Y/N whines loudly as Harry finally bottoms out, his hips pressing flush to hers and bringing a kind of euphoric fullness that she’s never felt before. “Oh God…” She drags out her speech, her eyes barely managing to flutter open in time to catch the look on Harry’s face as he feels her walls squeeze him.

His brows are drawn together, an all too familiar crease appearing between them.  It’s a look of concentration, but the pull of his mouth and the quiet pants leaving it tell Y/N that it’s so much more than that. His pupils are blown out, dilated so much that she can barely see the green that she loves so much, and every few moments, Harry’s eyelids flutter, times perfectly with the contraction of Y/N’s pussy around his length.  

“Move, Harry.” Y/N begs, grasping his free hand and squeezing it along with his other hand. “Please.”

Her pleading sends a shiver down Harry’s spine, and he begins to thrust in and out of her slowly, letting her adjust to each pace before gradually increasing his movements. “Like that, pet?” He asks, voice low and thick with pleasure. “Is that what you wanted?”

A whine is all the answer he gets, as Y/N is so far gone past the point of being able to reply with a coherent sentence.  The only thing she can think of is how good it feels to have Harry fill her.  How the feeling of his cock inside her is simultaneously too much for her, the most content she’s ever felt, and not enough to satisfy the ache deep within her.  Every one of her senses is consumed with Harry—the touch of his skin to hers, at her pelvis, over her abdomen, his hands squeezing hers with desperation as he thrusts inside of her repeatedly.  The scent of his cologne mingled with his sweat, so hot and all consuming that the air feels thick with it.  The taste of that scent on the back of her tongue, along with his Merlot flavoured kisses that linger in her mouth.  The sight of him caged over her, his sweaty curls and flushed skin being all that she can see.  The sound of his moans, hot and low in her ear.

Everything is Harry. Had there every been a time where it wasn’t?

When Harry pulls his hands from Y/N’s, a small whimper stumbles out of her mouth, growing louder when his thrusts begin to slow and the ball of tension in her core begins to uncoil. “What—?” She begins, the question still half formed on her tongue when Harry moves his grip to her knees.

In one swift motion, Harry has her left knee over his shoulder, quickly repeating the movement with her right leg as he sponges stuttered kisses over the newly available skin.  “Need to be deeper.” He mutters, pressing a wet and breathless kiss to Y/N’s lips before sitting up for more leverage.  Weaving his fingers back through hers, Harry begins to thrust again, the head of his cock rubbing against new areas with every motion.

And oh.  It’s like an entirely new feeling.  The moans and whimpers are leaving Y/N’s mouth in a steady stream now, with any ability she had to filter her volume gone the moment Harry’s cock presses against her G-spot.

“Fuck, Harry, right there, baby—” Y/N releases one of his hands to throw her arm around his shoulder, digging her nails into the muscled skin as the words of pleasure slip past her lips. “That’s it, that’s so fucking good—”

“Yeah?” Harry grunts, bracing himself against the bed so that he can increase the speed of his movements. “You like how my cock fills you?”

Y/N nods desperately, the movement stuttered as she shakes from both her pleasure and the force of Harry driving his hips into her own. “Yeah, I—fuck, you’re going to make me cum…”

Harry’s face twists in concentration as he removes his braced hand from the bed and trails it down Y/N’s body, pausing just enough so that he can tweak her nipple as he passes by. He continues on until he reaches his destination, and settles his large thumb over her clit to rub fast and concise circles on the bundle of nerves.

“Oh—” Y/N’s back arches off the bed as her nails dig into the skin of Harry’s shoulder, as well as the back of his hand.  She barely manages to pant through her whimpered words. “Fuck, I’m going to cum—”

“Please, baby.” Harry pleads with her, his expression desperate as he stipples more kisses to Y/N’s knees, the only inches of skin that he can get his mouth on as he drives himself harder into her. “Need you to cum for me, I—fuck, minx, I need it more than you know.”

A sharp gasp falls from Y/N’s slick mouth as Harry hits her G-spot again, and the sharp repeated motion combined with his stimulation of her clit is enough to send her barrelling headfirst over the edge.  A desperate sound leaves her mouth, half moan, half whine, as the coil in Y/N’s core snaps, sending shockwaves of pleasure through every inch of her body.  

The reaction is almost instantaneous.  As her body shakes with pleasure, abdomen contracting and releasing over and over, Y/N feels Harry’s hips begin to stutter, his movement growing sloppier as the constriction of her core works Harry to an orgasm.

“Y/N—that’s it, pet, just—yes—” Harry’s words are more coherent than hers, but still just form a string of half put together phrases as he presses himself deep inside her, his eyes snapping shut as he spills inside the condom.  A choked sound works its way out of his throat, pulling from deep within his chest, and the pads of his rough fingers dig into her thighs as he grounds himself throughout his orgasm.  

Y/N’s shuddering climax finishes before Harry’s does, and all she can do is collapse back in the sheets, enjoying the feeling of his cock throbbing inside her one last time before he pulls out slowly to clean himself and throw away the condom.  An involuntary whine, quiet but audible, falls from her lips at the empty feeling that’s left behind, but it’s soon satiated after Harry returns to the bed, wrapping his shaking arms around her and pulling her tight into his chest.

His chest, like her own, is soaked in sweat, covered in dark bruises, and heaving from the aftermath of the orgasm he’s just finished, but it’s the only place Y/N wants to be.  She presses her ear into his skin, his racing heartbeat thumping beneath her head, and she focuses on the pounding pattern as she attempts to catch her breath.

Harry speaks first, clearing his throat before his wrecked voice fills her senses. “That was…that was so fucking good.  I was worried that it wouldn’t be as good as the last time, because we were more sober, but…”

“It was better, yeah. I know.” Y/N agrees, her voice filled with exhaustion and contentment as she kisses over a purple bruise forming on Harry’s collar bone. “I think…I think knowing how we feel made it better.”

“I agree.” Harry’s hands move over her back, his fingertips tracing invisible patterns onto her sweaty skin. “Passionate sex with someone you care for with candles lit…all after the wedding of your best friend…was that romantic enough for you?” There’s a teasing edge to his voice, just barely audible beneath the rasp.

A tired smile lifts the corners of Y/N’s swollen lips. “I suppose so.  But it’s not hard to be, in comparison to others…”

“Well, from now on, you’re going to be comparing to me, yeah?” Harry shifts his arms around her, tightening his grip before reaching for the crumpled sheet to pull it over their bodies. “This’ll be the marker, I suppose.  And I’ll have to work on raising the bar with everything I do for you.”

“What about what I’ll do for you?” Y/N just barely manages to raise her head off Harry’s chest enough to look at him. “This is a two way street, you know.  I have to romance you, too.”

“Mm.  True.” Harry hums as he resumes tracing patterns on Y/N’s skin. “How about you stop making fun of my taste in romantic movies?  I’d like to watch The Notebook without you poking fun at it.  If you’re laughing at all the emotional scenes, it makes me feel pathetic when I cry at them.”

Y/N laughs quietly as she rakes her fingers through Harry’s sweaty curls. “That’s asking too much from me. How about…I can still make fun of your taste in romantic movies, but I’ll hold you and comfort you when you cry at the really dumb scenes?”

An exhausted snort rolls through Harry’s chest, but there’s a degree of tenderness hidden in the sound. “I suppose that’s the best offer I’ll get, isn’t it?”

“You suppose right.” Y/N sighs contently, her eyes drifting shut as she settles herself into Harry’s chest.  The feeling of the subtle rise and fall of his muscles is enough to soothe her to sleep, and she’s just settling in for what she thinks may be the best sleep of her life when her head suddenly drops as Harry abruptly pulls away from her.

“Harry—” Y/N’s eyes snap open as she pulls herself into an upright position, any feeling of calm that she had a moment ago gone out the window. “What the fuck?”

A sheepish Harry smiles at her from the dresser. “We left the candles lit, love.” He says, blowing out the three lit candles on the wooden surface before walking to one of the bedside tables, where four more candles are lit. “It’s not safe.”

“No, you know what’s no safe?  Jerking your girlfriend from her sleep when she’s exhausted, and has to be up early tomorrow.” Y/N rolls her eyes as she flops back into the pillows.

Harry blows out the last candle before sliding back into the bed. “Would you rather I let the cabin burn down?  That wouldn’t be very romantic of me, now would it?”

Turning over on her side, Y/N faces the wall away from Harry. “You’re an asshole.”

“Don’t be mean.” Harry’s pout is tangible in the press of his lips to her bare shoulder. “We were having a moment!”

“Not anymore.”

“You don’t mean that.” Harry laughs as he wraps his arms around Y/N, pulling her to spoon into his chest. “Just go to sleep.  You’ll be less grumpy in the morning.”

“Fuck off.” Y/N mutters, but she allows herself to be held against Harry as his breathing once again soothes her to sleep.

…

“Are you sure I can’t drive?”

Harry laughs as he shuts the loaded trunk of the Impala, the sound echoing off the trees around them and scaring a few birds that had settled in the branches. “After that disaster in Nebraska?  No way.”

“Did you let her drive Stevie?” Laure asks, shock woven through her voice as her eyes flicker between Y/N and Harry. “Really?”

“No, I let her try to drive Stevie.  And then she stalled her, and lost all driving privileges forever.” Harry replies with a snort, shrugging his jacket onto his shoulders as his keys jangle in his hands. “So I’ll be driving the forty-two hours back to L.A.”

Y/N crosses her arms with an irritated sigh. “Whatever.  Don’t complain to me when you get stiff from being in one position for eight hours a day.”

As Harry rounds the back of the car, he shoots Y/N a smug grin, walking up behind her to wrap his warm arms around her waist. “But you’ll give me massages, won’t you, baby?  I’d really appreciate them…”

“Okay, this is still weird for me.” Jo says slowly, shaking her head as her eyes flicker between their intertwined pose and Laure, who looks equally as bemused. “A week ago, we had to practically beg Harry to drive you, Y/N, and now you’re…?”

“It was bound to happen, wasn’t it?” Harry asks, resting his chin on Y/N’s shoulder with a smirk. “No woman could last five days with me while resisting the Styles charm…”

Y/N shrugs his chin off her shoulder with a snort. “Right.” She scoffs as she unravels his hands from her waist. “The Styles charm.  We’ll pretend that’s a thing.”

Harry pouts as Y/N pulls away from him, his arms still outreached and trailing after her. “It is a thing!”

With a roll of her eyes, Y/N walks over to Jo, wrapping her arms around the girl tightly as the crisp morning air sends a shiver down her spine. “Congratulations, Jo.  Have fun on your honeymoon.”

Although Jo hugs her back with a smile, there’s something lingering under the sweet expression. “Thank you.” She speaks in her normal tone, but waits until her lips are right by Y/N’s ear to lower her voice. “The moment you arrive back in L.A., I expect a three hour phone call explaining how all of this happened.  Is that understood?”

“You’re so demanding. I would have thought you’d be more mature now that you’re married.” Y/N laughs as she pulls out of the hug, turning to Laure and giving her a tight squeeze before walking to the car.  She leans against the cool metal of the passenger side as Harry rounds around to the driver’s side, having said his goodbyes right after she did.

“I’m serious!  The last time we talked about Harry, you threatened to cut off his—”

Laure takes Jo’s hand, squeezing it hard as she bites her lip to keep from laughing. “Okay, darling, that’s enough.  Just be thankful they’re not arguing anymore, yeah?  Maybe we’ll finally be able to have a wine night that doesn’t end with someone flipping a charcuterie board.”

The memory of Laure and Jo’s four year anniversary party brings a sheepish smile to Y/N’s face, and she watches as the realization hits Jo, who gives a satisfied nod to Laure before the latter presses her lips to her cheek.

Harry, however, is less amused, and shoots a questioning glance at Y/N over the hood of the car. “Wait, when did you threaten to cut something of mine off?”

“Oh, it was just a joke, Harry.” Y/N waves off his concern as she opens the passenger door with a click. “It’s nothing you have to worry about, as long as you don’t piss me off too much.”

“Right.” Harry says slowly, climbing inside the car as Y/N does the same.  “I’ll do my best.”

Harry starts the car with an easy and practiced motion, shifting it into reverse and pulling away from the mountainside resort as the two of them give one last wave to Jo and Laure through the passenger window.  Once they’re back on the winding mountain road, Y/N grabs Harry’s phone from its usual spot in his cup holder, scrolling through his music library with interest.

“What do you feel like listening to?” She asks curiously, her eyes scanning over the now familiar titles indecisively. “Something fast?  Something mellow?”

Harry shifts the car into second gear before grabbing Y/N’s free hand, brushing his pink lips over the back of her knuckles in a gentle motion. “I don’t really care.” He says with a shrug, winding his fingers through her own before lowering their hands between their seats. “Anything you want.”

The comment of free reign causes Y/N’s eyes to widen in disbelief. “Really?” She asks incredulously, and when Harry gives a confirming nod, she quickly settles on “Breakfast at Tiffany’s,” leaning back in her seat as the familiar guitar riff fills the car.

From the corner of her eye, she watches Harry’s nose wrinkle as his eyebrows crease beneath his sunglasses. “Actually, I changed my mind.” He says lowly, swiping his thumb over her knuckles in a motion of apology. “Not this song.”

Y/N lets out a groan as she presses her head back into the head rest. “For fuck’s sake, H—”

“I’m not feeling it! It just doesn’t suit this time of day, or this scenery—”

“We have forty-two hours left in this trip, and you’re already pissing me off.  Do you want something to get cut off?” Yanking her hand from his own, she grabs his phone again and opens it with a harsh sigh. “Okay, what do you want to listen to?”

“I told you.” Harry taps his fingers against the steering wheel as he risks a glance at her, gauging if the irritation in her voice matches the irritation on her face. “Whatever you want to listen to.”

Y/N allows herself a quiet snort, but makes no other comment on the contradictory statement. “Fine.” She says shortly, scrolling through his songs for another moment before clicking on “Strangers”. “How’s that?”

Harry raises his now empty hand defensively before finding her own again, squeezing it gently. “Good, love.  It’s good.”

“Good.” Y/N gives a short sigh of relief, settling back into her seat again as a new guitar riff begins to sound through the car speakers.

The first verse of the song has barely finished when Harry clears his throat thickly, the corner of his lip just barely twitching up. “You know, actually—”

“Stop the car.”

[dinosaurtsukki]

[ malt whiskey on ice ] 

pairing: chuuya nakahara x gn!reader (there’s an error in the header but i’m too lazy to edit it now i’m sorry)

word count: 2k words

@ah-kaashi​: dinooo im having chuuya brainrot hours right now ಥ⌣ಥ can i request a short fic of chuuya meeting bartender!reader at a bar and eventually starts pining for them? and he only goes to the bar to see them (ahh my heart) he probably would confess to the reader whilst drunk, thanks to his low alcohol tolerance :"

summary: chuuya has a crush on the cute bartender and tries to ask her out. unfortunately, drinking alcohol calms his nerves way too much

a/n: i’m--- i’ll just have a really long list of works under ‘chuuya nakahara’ at this point. also ahhh i hope you like this kei and sorry it took too long but i had so much fun writin this !!

“chuuya-san!”

chuuya could never get tired of hearing your bright, cheery voice greeting him as soon as he entered the bar, especially after a long and hard day. he smiles at you, fold his coat and leaves it on the counter beside him along with his hat.

“a good evening to you too, y/n,” he says.

“having your usual?” you asked, already getting out a glass.

“yes please.” 

chuuya knows it’s rude to stare, but he can’t help but do so as you prepare his drink. the fact that your humming easily puts a smile on his face reminds chuuya how much he has fallen for you.

“here you go,” you serve his drink up with a warm smile. “malt whiskey with ice.”

“expect some refills as usual later in the night,” chuuya joked.

“as long as i get to make sure you’re still able to drive home,” you chuckled. the bar was less than half-full tonight, something that chuuya was very much thankful for. you were an amazing bartender and you always interacted with your customers. chuuya was even amazed at how you could hold a conversation with anyone and remember all the stories that people would tell you.

but sometimes, he kind of wanted you all to himself. 

chuuya had been mulling that thought over for quite a long time: asking you out on an actual date instead of coming here every single night and looking at you longingly from across the counter. he did think he had a bit of a chance and you looked like you genuinely enjoyed talking to him and seeing him. but you were like that with everybody too.

“so, what’s been going on with you lately? finally finish that mission you’ve been stressing out on?” you asked while drying glasses behind the counter. chuuya smiled, dragging a gloved finger through the rim of his glass.

“well, if you’d really like to know...”

...

“you look like you’ve seen better days.” 

“huh?” chuuya blinked out of his thoughts to see the new bartender regarding him with a concerned expression. 

“you’ve been staring at your drink for the past... ten minutes...give or take,” you explained. “people do tend to stare at their drinks quite a bit but when it hits ten minutes that’s kind of raises an alarm for me,” you chuckled. “the ice even melted in your drink. want me to fix you a fresh one?” 

“ah, no. but thanks for the offer though,” chuuya smiled. “shame to waste good alcohol.”

“i hear you,” you shrugged with a smile. “so, wanna tell me what’s been going on?” you asked. “bartenders do make good listeners.”

chuuya raised an eyebrow up at you as he thought about what you said. “um, it’s kind of a long story and i don’t think i’m ready to get into it now,” he confessed.

“that’s fair,” you nodded your head. chuuya was grateful to you for giving him some space. actually, now that he thought about it, he was grateful to you for always greeting him with a smile and asking how he was, even when he came in with the sourest of moods. he knew it wasn’t easy to be a bartender, especially one whose clients were from the mafia.

“how about you though?” chuuya asked. “um, anything special happen to you recently?”

you looked genuinely surprised at the question which made chuuya think that people never really asked about you. “you know, no one’s ever really asked me that,” you chuckled. “but... it’s nice. thanks, nakahara-san.”

chuuya doesn’t know why, but his stomach was practically doing backflips when you said that. have you always looked this cute when you laughed? how come chuuya never noticed that?

“please,” he says. “you can call me chuuya.”

...

“you never chicken out of anything. come on, you can do this,” chuuya grits his teeth, remembering not to accidentally crush the bouquet in his hands. right after finishing his mission early, he headed to the nearest flower shop to buy some flowers for you. as much as he wanted to give you red roses, he thought it would be a bit too much and didn’t want to accidentally scare you. instead, he settled on some pink peonies that he dearly hoped you would like.

chuuya decided on going to the bar before your shift just to give himself some time to relax. except, when he sits down on the counter, the bartender, an old man who chuuya knows very well, eyes the bouquet in his hands and flashes chuuya a knowing smile.

“do you think they’ll say yes?” chuuya asks, very aware at how nervous he sounds.

“i think it’ll be very interesting,” the bartender says. chuuya groans at how ambiguous that sounds.

“can i have my regular? please?” he asks. the bartender raises an eyebrow at him. “it’s just for the nerves,” chuuya reasons.

he was right in thinking that the alcohol would help with his nerves. except, it works a bit too much.

...

you always give your reflection a once-over before leaving for your shift at the bartender. the bartender’s uniform isn’t exactly your nicest outfit but you try your best to spruce things up by putting on some lip tint and brushing your hair. you’re not even sure if chuuya will be coming in, he is a busy man, but you apply your lip tint carefully in the mirror and wish for luck.

when you finally leave the employee’s changing room to start your shift, your heart jumps up in your chest when you recognize the familiar hat. except, when you come closer, you find that chuuya is slumped over the counter with an empty glass and a bouquet of flowers at his side.

the sight of the flowers brings a lump in your throat but you push that aside momentarily as you tap on chuuya’s shoulder to check on him.

“chuuya-san?”

“hrrrmmm,” he groans but doesn’t move an inch. you tap him on the shoulder again and call out his name, much louder this time, until chuuya finally raises his head. 

his cheeks are flushed pink, no doubt from the alcohol, and his eyes clearly look as if he’s straining to focus as he squints at you. it’s unbelievably cute and you let out a chuckle. 

“it’s not like you to get wasted on a thursday evening,” you smile before your gaze lands on the bouquet of flowers again. “i... see you were planning to ask someone out.”

“huh? yeah,” chuuya drawls, nodding his head slowly. “s’pposed to ask this person out... was waiting for them.”

“and then you ended up drinking too much,” you sigh. “i mean, i keep telling you your alcohol tolerance isn’t that great.”

“wanted to be less nervous,” chuuya whines slightly as his head drops back again. you reach your hand out to hold him back from pitching forward and slamming his face onto the table.

“oh my god, let’s get you sobered up at least before you meet them,” you sigh. it was a thursday night and no one else was at the bar. it probably wouldn’t hurt to step out for a while, wouldn’t it?

you’re practically dragging chuuya behind you to the employee’s room and sitting him on the couch you have there. except, once he sits down he immediately flops on the couch and curls up on his side. you’ve rarely seen the mafia executive look as vulnerable as this with his hat barely even on his head, his red locks framing his sleeping face, and his curled hands under his cheek. chuuya looks just like a little kid and you smile to yourself as you brush a lock of hair out of his face.

you already knew he was a mafia executive when you first met him here, at the bar, and was understandably quite scared of him at first. ‘he’s just a paying customer, like everyone else,’ you reminded yourself before putting on a winning smile to serve him. 

little did you know, you were going to absolutely fall for him. chuuya was always kind and courteous, even tipping more than generously whenever he came in. but what struck you about him was that no matter what, even if he was having the worst of days, he would always ask how you are. as a bartender, you were used to being the one listening instead of being listened to. the fact that chuuya always asked about you and even remembered your ramblings made you smile.

part of you wondered if you had a chance with someone like chuuya. ‘but i guess not,’ you thought sadly, gently laying the bouquet of flowers on the side table. as soon as you did, chuuya shot up from the couch.

“ch-chuuya-san!” you yelped slightly in surprise. 

“flowers... where are they?” he slurred, blinking around at his surroundings.

“here,” you smiled, placing the bouquet on his lap. “that person’s lucky, you know? to receive flowers from you.” 

“yeah...” chuuya smiled. “y/n sure is.” and before you could fully process what he said, chuuya flopped back down on the couch.

“wait, what?” you squeaked. you turned to chuuya and shook him awake. “did you just say y/n?”

“yeah... you know them? works here, always smiley, looks hella cute,” chuuya chuckled before looking at you with the tiniest pout on his lips. “do you think they’d go out with me?” 

you’re astounded and let out a small laugh. “i... i think they would chuuya. just ask them, alright?” 

“alright,”  chuuya nods and yawns before curling up on the couch again. you, on the other hand, are beside yourself with giddiness and it’s taking you all of your self-control not to wake him up. instead, you leave a glass of water and some headache medicine that you keep in your bag and return to your shift.

...

chuuya wakes up a few hours later with one of the worst headaches he’s ever had and his mouth feeling like sandpaper. also, he has no idea where he is. 

he sits up, blinking at his surroundings as he struggles to remember what happened before he practically blacked out. ‘i was in the bar. i got a drink, and then...’  

chuuya’s gaze lands on you, curled up on a nearby chair with your jacket draped across your torso and suddenly he remembers what exactly he was doing at the bar in the first place. “shit, shit, shit,” chuuya curses and sits up. he actually got blackout drunk before even getting the chance to talk to you and now you had to take care of him. chuuya hated to admit that his alcohol tolerance was low and now it seems he’s suffering the consequences for it.

his luck takes a turn for the worst when the noise stirs you awake.

“chuuya-san? you’re awake,” you yawn sleepily.

“fuck, i... blacked out, didn’t i? y/n, i’m so sorry it must have been so troubling for you,” chuuya immediately apologizes.

“it’s alright--” 

“like, i came in before your shift and i thought drinking would settle my nerves a bit before asking you out and--” chuuya abruptly stops when he realizes what he accidentally blurted out loud. the look on your face says it all though.

“i... “ he starts and stops again. then, he realizes that the flowers he bought are still on the table. so, he picks it up and hands them to you. “i, i really like you, y/n. if you don’t hate me after all this, would you consider going out with me?” 

there’s a smile on your face when you take the flowers for him and chuuya takes it as a good sign. and then you say, “you know, you said a lot of things while you were drunk.” 

chuuya feels his face flush and lets out a groan. “oh god, like what?” 

“we can talk about it if you like,” you shrug. “i’m... i’m free on saturdays, after my five pm shift.” 

chuuya feels his heart leap in his chest and says “i’m free this saturday too,” a bit too enthusiastically, earning another laugh from you. he’s still feeling that euphoria when you stand up and plant a kiss on his cheek.

“also, you’re really cute when you’re drunk.” 

▸ 🎕 ┈┈┈┈ 🎕 ┈┈┈┈ 🎕 ┈┈┈┈ 🎕 ┈┈┈┈ 🎕 ◂

taglist (check out my post for details on being part of my taglist): @waitforitillwritemywayout @atsumusdomain​​ @laure-chan @goodfoodxoxoxo ​ @guardianangelswings @ah-kaashi @amberalisa​ @whootwhoot​ @liz-multifandom-hotel​​ @kac-chowsballs​​ @violentfarewll

[remember-to-be-gentle]

what about reader summoning a demon in desperation after losing their job but they summon the wrong one? (Enji? Madara? Dabi? Miruko? Up to u it could be any1)

I made a header for this fic because it kept getting buried in my drafts also this fic is for you demon tail fuckers.

Subject: BNHA, Demon!Dabi aka Touya Todoroki

Title: How Much Does a Pound of Flesh Cost? (NSFW, fem reader)

Trigger Warning: Murder, demon summoning, workplace harassment, non con, cannibalism, loss of virginity/bad women’s anatomy, tail penetration, blood, crying, reader is in pain multiple times

You couldn’t take it anymore. The harassment, the taunting, the rumors. HR didn’t help and God knew if your lazy as hell boss was going to so much as glance in the direction of your problems. So you’d had to turn to other means. 

It was a last resort, you’d told yourself that over and over again, only to be used if there was no other option. You couldn’t leave the job, it paid too well and no where would hire someone who quit after just three months on the job. Wiping tears out of your eyes, you drew the last parts of the upside pentagram on your hardwood floors, the chalk coming off in puffy chunks. 

The upside down pentagram was ugly, no lines straight or even, but it should work, after all, summoning a demon didn’t require artistic talent, just desire. You grabbed the demon summoning book you’d gotten off Amazon and flipped to the page you’d bookmarked with sticky tabs and dried tears. In broken Latin and probably the worst accent ever, you read the words you’d only spoken in your fantasies and closed your eyes. 

There was power in them, you could tell, though you weren’t sure exactly how much power would come from them. And just as quickly as the power had built, it crashed. Terrified your eyes shot open, fear gripping your heart. Had you failed? Did you really fail in your final attempt to save yourself?

And then you saw it.

Him.

The demon in the circle. 

He smirked at you from where he laid in the chalk, hair so dark red it was black, eyes blue as the hottest part of the flame, skin either charred in patches or pale and smooth, staples keeping it all together. Two bull-like horns grew from his head and a long devil’s tail whipped about behind him. “Hey, doll,” he said, “what can I do you for?”

You’d prepared yourself for this. Demons were tricky with their words and quick to act, it was best to find out what they wanted before you told them why they were summoned. “Tell me what I have to pay first.”

“Doll,” he groaned, his body rising like a rag doll. His head flopped forward, those burning blue eyes zeroing in on you, “I can’t bill you if you don’t tell me what you want.”

Shit, maybe you didn’t have the edge you thought you did. You swallowed and said, “I want... I want to make my coworkers suffer like they made me suffer. I want them to hurt—on the inside! I don’t want to see them bleed out or anything...” 

The demon made a rumbling noise, your apartment shaking with him, picture frames rattling and furniture shaking. “You wish for them experience the same pain you did, pain that’s on the inside...” He drifted closer to you, an electric aura of malice surrounding him, “And you don’t want to see them bleed. Tricky, tricky.” His tail whipped again. “I think I would like my price to be...” He stopped right in front of you and smiled wide, showing off sharp canines built for tearing flesh, “My price will be your mucous.” 

You blinked. “My mucous?”

He whipped his tail again, the tip of it suddenly right at your nose. “If you agree to the terms then eat of my flesh and your will shall become mine.” 

“Wait,” your mind was steal reeling from his price and now he wanted you bite his tail off? The book hadn’t said anything about this. 

“Every second you hesitate,” the demon growled, “is another second of your torment. Eat and be fulfilled.” 

“Fine, okay.” He really wasn’t giving you time to think about this. You opened your mouth and he thrust in his tail, hard, the tip making it halfway down your throat, choking you for as heat crowded your face. For several swollen seconds you stayed there choking on his tail before instinct had you slamming your teeth down. 

The tail snapped apart easily, the taste of pig skin a ghost on your tongue as the tail dropped down your esophagus and into your stomach. The weight of your deal hung heavily in your belly. 

Heat erupted from your stomach, the taste of smoke overpowering your senses, burning your nose until you collapsed on the floor gasping for breath. Tears spilled over down your cheeks, carrying with it the sensation of burning, as if you’d been consumed in hellfire. The weight of the demon’s tail vanished. 

When you finally caught your breath, you saw the demon was gone, leaving no trace behind except for the chalk circle that had been reshaped to read D̦̠̝̻̱̦̮̲̫̅̃́͂̈́͢͝͞Ȧ̸̧̫̠̦̬̞͛̽͐͆͜͝B̵̝̼̗̠̺̳̓̈͌͊̔͊́̀͞I̵͎͔͔͍̫͛̊̏͘͜͠.

*******************************************************************************************

With no idea when the demon would come back for his payment, you were left with no choice but to go to work. Your stomach twisted in terrorized knots. You didn’t want to confront them, look them in the eye and know that their hatred wouldn’t vanish without demonic intervention, but you’d used all your sick days and your rent wouldn’t pay itself. 

The building was empty, which wasn’t unusual this early in the morning, though it concerned you the security guards weren’t in their places. You got into the elevator and took a deep breath. Alright, 

You slowly entered the office and noticed first the silence. No fingers clacking keyboards. No rising bubbles from the water cooler. No idle chatter. No one seated in their cubicle. Nothing. Not even security making their rounds. 

As you walked through the maze of cubicles, a terrible stench invaded your nostrils, making your stomach twist. It was coming from the board room. You slowly made your way over, bile lapping at the back of your throat with each step closer, nausea swelling in your skull until you were dizzy. The carpet had claw marks coming from all over the office, as if something had been dragged away. Some cubicle walls were smashed or broken. You kept walking toward the smell. 

And then you saw it. 

Inside the glass meeting room, surrounding the large wooden table, were all your coworkers. Not a single one of them so much as twitched, their skin was purple and blotchy, nearly black in some spots. Internal bleeding, you recognized immediately, they’d either been beaten so bad their organs ruptured or something inside them had been torn them apart. Either way you needed to get out of—

“Hey doll,” Dabi the demon slithered out from the shadows, his voice making the room rumble like he had in your house, “like what I’ve done with the place?”

You stared at him in horror. “You... you did this?”

“I did,” he floated toward the table, newly regrown tail whipping behind him, “and it was fun, too. Its been a while since I’ve been asked to kill without leaving a trace. You’re a surprisingly naughty girl.” 

“No! I didn’t want you to kill them! I wanted them to hurt like I did—”

“Doll.” His voice terrorized you and forced you still, a demonic force so dark and ugly that your nearly vomitted. “You asked me to hurt them like they hurt you. You understand I can’t make them feel anything that isn’t...” He ran a blue fingernail over one of your coworkers darkened faces, “physical.” He wrapped his tail around their throat, shaking their head back and forth. “So I did what you asked, I made them hurt without letting them bleed out. All the bleeding is internal, where it’s supposed to be, and just like you requested.”

“No, no, you should have said something if that was the case! I didn’t want anyone to die!” 

“But then you wouldn’t have taken my deal,” he pouted, releasing your coworker to approach you, still floating, “and then I wouldn’t have gotten paid. Besides, didn’t they hurt you so badly you wanted to die? You summoned a demon to hurt them after all, and even agreed to pay my price.” 

His payment that’s right it was... mucous. “Why do you want mucous, anyway?”

He ran a hand down your nose and then hooked his finger into your nostril, forcing you to look up at him. Sharp pain erupted in your skin but the deadly look in his eye made you keep quiet. “Did you think this is what I wanted? Oh no, you poor silly, little thing. I don’t know a soul would have use for your disgusting boogers.” His tail whipped forward and slid into your pants, ungraciously rubbing against your slit, “This is the mucous I want. Your hymen.”

You tried to step away but Dabi hooked his fingers deeper, pulling up and making you scream from the pain. "You tricked me! I didn't agree to this!"

Dabi chuckled darkly. "Next time ask clarifying questions, babe." He sharply removed his fingers, letting you fall on the floor. He didn't let you catch your breath, grabbing you by the back of your shirt and throwing you on the table.

Your head hit the solid wood first, hard, marking your teeth rattle and skull bounce, the rest of your body forcing you to slide to the end of the table. A groan escaped your throat and when you tried to sit up, your face was just inches from your dead boss's. You shrieked and tried to scramble away, but Dabi pinned you down, one hand on your back, the other yanking your pants off. “Stop!” You screamed, “This isn’t what I wanted!” 

You felt his tail circle your entrance, the tapered point pressing into your clit until you squirmed. It pulled your panties aside and felt the slick that had gathered, far too much for just rubbing your slit. It must have been some kind of demon magic that got him what he wanted faster. “This isn’t about what you want anymore,” he sneered in your ear, “your request is fulfilled, now pay up.” His tail slid inside you, suddenly much larger than you remembered seeing or swallowing, stretching out your insides as the tapered point met your cervix. 

But it kept growing.  

The tail’s girth continued to swell inside you, breaking your tight rings of untouched muscle as your core clenched around it. No matter how much you wanted to hate it, it felt good all the way inside you, reaching parts of you that had remained clean until now, and then the pain kicked in again. 

The discomfort before had been an uncomfortable adjustment, slightly itchy if anything, but now it was searing, your insides feeling like they’d been torn apart and gutted. You shrieked, nails digging into the wood of the table. You swung your hips back and forth as if that would make him remove his tail but it only made the tip press harder against your cervix.

Dabi shoved your hips back down against the table. “Relax, I’m almost done.” 

Each swell of his tail was excruciating, tears welling up in your eyes from the pain. 

It seemed to reach a maximum painful girth, stuck inside you as your insides twisted. And faster than it had grown, his tail shrunk back down to normal and slid out of you. You could feel blood following after, dripping out of your entrance and onto the board meeting table.  

Dabi started to lift himself up and you thought he was done, contract complete, but you heard him unzip his pants and before you could process exactly what was coming next, something new pressed inside you. It didn’t hurt as much as the tail, but it was much hotter, pushing all the way inside you until something warm and squishy pressed against your clit. Your sore insides itched and clung at the object, making you whimper. “This,” Dabi groaned, “is your tip.” 

He pulled back and slammed back in, your torn core making you see stars from the sharp pain. His dick. He’d put this demon fucking dick inside you. You screamed and tried to thrash, but Dabi was so much bigger than you. So much stronger. All you really ended up doing was humping his cock and crying.

He simply ignored you and pumped roughly into you, his heavy balls slamming against your clit with each downstroke. You kept crying and thrashing and Dabi must have gotten annoyed with you because he growled, “You’re making this harder than it needs to be. Just stay still and let me take what I want.”

You choked out a sob, failing at swallowing the tears that slid down your cheeks and onto the table. With your boss’s dead eyes staring into you, you did your best to ignore the rough thrusting of the demon you’d sold your virginity to. You’d paid for revenge and lost far more than you’d bargained for. 

[rainbowdelicsunshine]

got tagged by @pencil-amateur to do a tag game and I'm actualy pretty happy to do so!

1. why did you choose your url: My overall online penname is both a combo of the words "Rainbow" and "Psychedelic". Thus: RainbowDelic! I add words to the end of this depending on my needs (for example my art blog is called RainbowDelicArtz cuz, well, I post my art there)!

2. any sideblogs? I currently use this one (a personal blog), my art blog, my art blog, and my writing/headcanons/rambling blog. I have a Danganronpa sprite edit blog and a kin help blog that I don't really use anymore, but are still free to look at (might use my sprite edit blog again one day,,,,,). I also used to have several RP and ask blogs that flopped!

3. how long have you been on tumblr: Oh man..... I think since I was, like, 14 or 15 when I made my very first one (which is long gone now)

4. why did you originally start your blog: I really LOVED the MLP ask blogs that were coming out at the time and loved how the inbox system seemed to work at the time, so I joined originally as an attempt at an ask blog (it flopped lol)!

5. why did you choose your icon: For this blog, I chose Karin Kokubu for Tonde Burin for March since she's one of my all time favorite magical girls!

6. why did you choose your header: For on here, I just really love fruit!

7. what’s your post with the most notes: For my art blog it's this one! (as of typing it has a total of 113 notes)

8. how many mutuals do you have: I don't really know since I'm not good at keeping track of those kinds of things (sorry!) But I think I at least have 7-10 of them

9. how many followers do you have: My Art Blog (RainbowDelicArtz): 115; My Personal Blog (this one): 221; ; Writing/Headcanon/Rambling Blog (RainbowDelicGalore): 70. Total: 406

10. how many blogs do you follow: 356

11. have you ever made a shitpost: Yes! I love doing it when I do, even if I'm the only one who finds them funny!

12. how many times do you use tumblr a day: A lot depending on what's happening in my life at the time lol

13. have you ever fought another blog: No, not really. Other than one of those stupid "callout" docs that were popular to make a few years ago being made on me lol

14. how do you feel about “need to reblog” posts: Meh..... not into it!

15. do you like tag games: I like them, they're fun!

16. do you like ask games: Man I LOVE doing ask games, they're always so interesting and fun to answer them and keep myself distracted via my inbox! I just get them very often whenever I do reblog them

17. which of your mutuals do you think are tumblr famous: Not really sure about that and I don't really care to know the answer ngl

18. do you have a crush on a mutual: Very small ones but since I don't talk to people on a regular basis much, I'm not really at the point of crushing hard on anyone atm. I'm trying to take things slow and let things come when its time

19. tags: Anyone can do this if they want but I shall tag @majobun @stupidsunny-d and @jenniferlovesthebeatles

[raendown]

Next up in the follower milestone gift fics is for @FollowingTheRivers, prompt word torpid. 

Pairing: MadaraTobirama Word count: 1397 Rated: T+ Summary: It wouldn't occur to him until much later just how ready he'd been to trust the one who found him.

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

KO-FI and commission info in the header!

Anchor in  the Drift

Maybe, Tobirama thought, if he tried very hard, he could invent a new seal on the spot that would allow him to stand up outside of his own body and carry it to safety. That sounded a great deal like a job for those solid clones he was still working on but not really, that wasn’t entirely what he wanted. What he actually wanted was to close his eyes and just let consciousness swim away from him like it was trying so very hard to do. Unfortunately that was definitely a bad idea at the moment. Very unsafe. Entirely likely to get him killed. 

If only he could muster the energy to care. 

Something grunted nearby and Tobirama gave some thought to a curious hum. Then decided against it. Humming felt like too much effort. The sheer act of living felt like too much effort right now while his head swam wildly between perfect silence and jangling alarm. 

“You’re a hard man to find, Senju.”

Fingers carded through his hair and Tobirama found he was so much more interested in that sensation than any of the other ones he could barely feel anymore anyway. His eyes fell closed and then his eyebrows pinched when that seemed to act as a signal for the fingers to stop. That wasn’t right. He hadn’t meant for them to stop. 

“Uh...alright. So that’s not normal. You good?”

He would be perfectly good if only the fingers would come back to his hair but the very thought of cracking his jaw open to communicate such felt like asking himself to lift a mountain. Instead he whined faintly and hoped that would do. It was hard to remember the last time he’d made any sound even close to a whine over the past decade or more but thankfully whatever or whoever might be attached to those fingers seemed to get the point because a moment later they were there again and Tobirama could only smile happily with his eyes still closed. How nice. 

“Not good. Definitely not good. Look, whatever’s up, you need to live long enough for me to make fun of you for this, okay?” 

Obviously he had no answer for that but as long as he got to enjoy the sensation of being petted like some common housecat he found that he just did not care. Even when the entire weight of his body was suddenly floating, torpid limbs lifted and positioned for him, still he had no thoughts but to admire the pleasant cool sensation of whatever he was being draped across. How lovely just when his body was starting to feel too warm. Clearly the universe had decided to realign itself in order to grant him his every wish. Actually, no, that wasn’t entirely true. The hand in his hair was gone and that was simply unacceptable if he was supposed to be getting everything he wanted. 

For a short time Tobirama drifted, vaguely cognizant of the air rushing past him just a tad too firm to be a pleasant breeze, barely aware that whether his eyes were open or closed the world existed as the same blurry haze. Something might be wrong. It should probably bother him that he couldn’t tell. Mostly the last shreds of his thought processing abilities were taken up by wondering if he’d somehow developed the ability to fly. Now that would be an absolutely fascinating development, one he would need to perform extensive tests on, though just the thought of performing any sort of experiment at the moment made him want to lay down and go to sleep. Was he already laying down? It was hard to tell. 

“Here we go, easy now. Don’t even think about flopping around or something. If you get any more hurt than however much you already are I’ll kill you myself after you’re better.”

Whoever that was they appeared to lack a certain sense of their own irony. Tobirama wanted to laugh but lacked the energy. He settled for mentally composing a rather disjointed speech about how pleasant this person’s voice was, very soothing to listen to. Definitely not helping his urges towards sleep. 

“Tobirama. Can you even fucking hear me?”

“Nnh...”

“Oh thank fuck. You know, I had my own shit to do. I’m tired too. Got my own fucking mission and everything. But no! No, here I am pulling your chestnuts out of the fire and you can’t even roll over to thank me. Fucking hell.” 

It took a few moments of lethargic musing but eventually Tobirama realized he knew that voice. Or, rather, he knew the shape and cadence of those swear words, could have recognized that tone in the soundless vacuum of outer space. Apparently Madara had come to rescue him. That was sweet. It would have been sweeter if he could have done it without the bitching but that was just his way and Tobirama was self aware enough to admit he wouldn't change the man. Well, he was usually pretty self aware. Right at that moment he wasn’t aware of much more than the haze in his veins and the warmth of something tracing along his cheek.

When did they stop moving?

“Back with me again?” Madara’s voice asked him and this time Tobirama found it in himself to hum the affirmative. “Not a single injury on you; this is actual bullshit. I’ve seen all sorts of reactions to chakra exhaustion but this one’s new. You’re more coherent when you’re drunk, for fuck’s sake.”

“Hair.”

“...what?”

“My hair.”

Somewhere above him he could hear the disconnected spluttering that had soothed him off in to dreams more times than anyone could count until finally Madara gave a violent snort. “More words, dumb ass. I don’t know what the hell you’re on about.”

Annoyed, Tobirama reached deep for any remaining tatters of energy. It was just enough to form what he hoped was a very irritated frown. 

“Liked it. Touched my hair. Again.” As soon as the words were out his muscles liquified and his jaw snapped shut, utterly drained. The trained shinobi in the back of his mind piped up at last to note smugly that he had, at least, completed his mission. Unfortunately he’d also run across not one but two squads of resistance on his way out of Lightning Country and fighting when he was already exhausted was never fun. If he tried he could almost recall the way it felt to drain the very last of his chakra and hit the ground in tandem with the man he’d just killed. If Madara hadn’t found him - well, there was really no point in thinking about it. No doubt he’d be getting a lecture on the subject later anyway.

It would be worth it, though, because Madara’s hands were back in his hair and if he had the energy Tobirama would have purred like one of Izuna’s damn cats. Even with the low grumbling diatribe that accompanied the petting it was soothing, grounding. Tobirama couldn’t even bring himself to care that he was being so open about something he enjoyed, a vulnerability neither of them could easily afford even after several years of marriage. 

Time had already lost all meaning so the fact that hours or minutes could have gone by didn’t even occur to him. Consciousness came and went but Tobirama couldn't tell the difference. He definitely noticed when his chakra finally started regenerating itself enough that he fell in to a true sleep, waking probably too many hours later to the rumble of Madara snoring. Which meant he’d fallen asleep sitting up. He only snored when he slept sitting up. It took a shamefully long time for Tobirama to realize he was sprawled out on cold ground with his torso leaning back against the other man’s chest, thick fingers buried in his hair with the sort of grip that spoke of an unwillingness to let go. 

Why, he wondered, were they sitting alone in a dark cave? 

“One of us did something stupid,” he muttered to the silence around them. Madara’s snore jumped in time with whatever he was dreaming about and Tobirama sighed, eyes sliding closed again. “You can tell me about it later.” 

For now he was tired, limbs like molasses, more than happy to lie here without moving for just a few more hours. 

[adorablele]

we’re just friends; l.dh

hello!!! can i request an imagine with haechan kinda like they were best friends in the past and then after a long time they meet each other again and he finds you really pretty? love all your writings!!!!! 💗💘💞💕 

↬ pairing; lee donghyuck x female!reader

↬  genre; fluff,, angst 

↬ word count; 3.5k+ (my longest fic yet pls don’t flop)

↬ summary; he put the wrong label on your friendship, just like how the grocery store labeled the aisle incorrectly.

↬ a/n; I thought the photo of hyuck was very nice which was why I used it as a header, but if anyone would like to make a header for this fic, I���ll give you virtual hugs <3 also, this is the FIRST TIME I’m writing an angsty ending so feedback is appreciated :)))) 

“excuse me.” someone tapped him on the shoulder.

seven year old donghyuck turned around, quizzically looking at you, “what?”

you made a face at his response. “you need to go to the back of the line,” your tone matched his.

“why?” he immediately asked, eyes boring into yours.

you stared back. “‘cause I was here first.”

“who says?” 

“I say!” you retorted, crossing your arms.

he snorted, “I was clearly here first, that’s why you’re standing behind me.”

you glared at the boy, “what are you a pig?”

he opened his mouth, but you cut him off, “and, the first person stands on the line. you’re in front of it, so I’m first.”

the clearing of a throat interrupted your argument. the two of you looked at the class know-it-all. 

“you guys are both wrong, I’m first.”

“who says?” both you and donghyuck asked.

having caused such a ruckus, the teacher booted the two of you to the back of the line. with a glare aimed at the smug little girl, the both of you followed the teacher’s instruction. 

on his way back, donghyuck spotted his friends, giving them a smile. they high-fived and allowed him to stand in front of them in line. you frowned at him, reminding him that ‘you can’t cut,’ before dutifully continuing your lonesome journey to the back of the line. donghyuck chuckled at your sulkily hung head and told his friends to save two spots at the lunch table. 

“she’s so annoying,” you mumbled, kicking the nonexistent pebbles on the floor, “she thinks she knows everything.”

“I know right,” the boy agreed, eyebrows raising when you jumped.

upon realizing it was him, your gaze went back down to the floor, “I thought you were up there with your friends.”

“the teacher told me to get to the back of the line,” he lied.

you looked at him for a moment. he simply looked back. you pursed your lips, crossing your arms and turning your head, chin up and away from him, “serves you right!” you then proceeded to march away, following the moving line. 

not hearing his footsteps, you peeked behind you. you sighed and fully turned around, placing a hand on your hip.

“are you coming?”

“it’s supposed to be there, not their,” he mumbled to you, reading over your shoulder.

“I’ll fix it when I revise and edit,” you dismissed, continuing to write your draft.

“there’s not supposed to be a comma after you,” he pointed out.

“again, I’ll just fix it when I’m editing,” you told him, thoughts halting because of the boy.

“you know-”

“oh my god, hyuck! just give me these comments when we peer review on thursday!” you exclaimed, glaring at the smirking 10 year old.

“don’t use the lord’s name in vain,” he tsked.

“how cute,” the waitress cooed, setting down the drinks on the table, “are you guys studying together?”

“I wouldn’t say that,” you muttered, annoyance laced in your voice.

the waitress arched a brow, leaning closer to donghyuck. “you like her, don’t you?” she loudly whispered.

he looked at her like she was crazy, not noticing the way your hand froze once the question was asked. “we’re just friends.”

with a slow nod, the waitress looked over at you. she chuckled when you quickly looked down at your paper. “whatever you say,” she shrugged, leaving to go serve other customers in the busy diner.

“what if we drift apart?” you sighed, sipping your juice box as he ate his sandwich on the picnic blanket.

we laughed, ‘we von’t brif abarph.”

you frowned at the boy, “chew your food.”

after a minute of silence, he spoke again. “we won’t drift apart.”

you didn’t say anything. he peered over at you, the loud slurping of the juice box catching his attention.

“I think it’s empty,” he commented, taking another bite of his sandwich. 

you pushed his shoulder, “hyuck, be serious! some friend drift away in middle school.”

he rubbed his shoulder, the crushed juice box gripped tightly in your hand. he sighed and leaned back. “life can’t tear us apart,” he looked up at the sky, “and even if they try, I won’t let you go so easily.”

he grinned at you, the muscles moving automatically upon seeing your sparkly gaze on him, “I mean, who else am I supposed to copy answers from?”

you rolled your eyes, “what are friends for, I guess.”

“you are not going to leave me to ride the bus alone on the first day of school!” 

donghyuck chuckled at the threat you told him the night before, the words somehow motivating him to get out of bed despite how much his blankets begged him to come back. when he arrived at the bus stop, you were pacing back and forth, eyes frantically looking around.

“the bus doesn’t arrive for another-” 

“where have you been?” you cried, hugging him, “I thought I was going to be alone!”

“well, I’m here,” he laughed, patting you on the back reassuringly, “still sleepy, but here nonetheless.”

he listened as you rambled away, nerves floating through your words as the two of you waited for the bus to arrive. you were silent when the bus parked in front of the two of you. he gestured for you to walk in first, and you did, planting down in the window seat. donghyuck yawned, slumping into the seat next to you. he didn’t waste any time, plopping his backpack on the floor next to yours as he leaned his head against your shoulder. 

he quietly counted to himself, hoping that he’ll help him fall back asleep. when he got to thirty, he felt your fingers brush through his hair. it caught him off guard, but eventually, he relaxed, continuing to count to sixty before he left to dreamland.

somewhere along the way, he stopped counting. he didn’t need to count, simply waiting until you played with his hair for him to feel relaxed enough to sleep. 

“hey, are you two dating?” a brown haired boy asked one morning. donghyuck recognized him, the guy sat two seats behind the bus driver. he believed his name had min in it or something.

however, donghyuck didn’t think much about the boy’s name, choosing to laugh at his question instead. you joined in not a second later. donghyuck stared at the boy like he was the funniest person in the world. 

“we’re just friends.”

the guy’s eyes flickered between the two of you suspiciously before he shrugged, “right okay.”

“hey jeno,” he called out waving over to his friend who was actively ignoring him, “jeno, come here! they’re not dating!”

jeno glared at his friend, quickly walking over to him, “why does that matter?” 

“because you-” jeno interrupted his friend, sending an apologetic glance at you and donghyuck, “sorry about jaemin, he’s stupid sometimes.”

you waved him off and gave a nod towards donghyuck. “it’s okay, stupid is his middle name.”

donghyuck gave you a side-eye, “I’m not the one who used soap as toothpaste this morning.”

“they’re both green!” you defended.

jeno and jaemin were easily forgotten, left to watch the two of you bicker away. 

jaemin snickered in jeno’s ear, “we’re just friends, they say.”

“I know you have it!” renjun yelled, keeping jaemin in a headlock.

“renjun, let jaemin go,” you sighed, setting down your lunch on the table.

“so abusive,” jaemin weeped, clinging onto you once he was out of renjun’s deadly arms.

“we don’t know if he was the one who took your moomin plushie, so calm down,” you told him. however, your words went to waste when jaemin stuck his tongue out at renjun, triggering the boy to lunge at him. you looked over at jeno, hoping he’d stop the fight, but jeno remained unbothered, finishing whatever he was writing. 

donghyuck silently sat there, the moonmin plushie hidden in his backpack. he went by unnoticed, his plan succeeding. a subtle, sly smirk rested on his lips, one that no one noticed. no one, but you. 

“hyuck,” you called out.

“yeah,” he smiled, feigning an innocent look.

“where’d you hide it?”

“hide what?” he asked, tilting his head.

you gave him a pointed look to which he responded with a shrug, “why are you- hey!”

renjun grabbed donghyuck’s backpack, digging through it like there’s no tomorrow. he lifted the plushie out of the bag, lips lined straight.

“aight, imma head out,” donghyuck coughed, bolting out of the lunch room.

“you’re so dead!” renjun screamed chasing after his friend.

donghyuck slumped against the wall, trying to catch his breath. he was almost successful in framing jaemin for his mischievous act, keyword being almost. he shook his head, your careful eyes popping into his mind.

of course you figured it out, you always did.

“well, we have a month,” jaemin smiled.

“yeah, why don’t we start planning?” jeno suggested.

renjun pulled out his notebook, labeling the page as ‘donghyuck’s a coward - things to do so he’ll pee himself’. And while the three of them were busy brainstorming activities for the group to do before he left, donghyuck couldn’t help but focus on you. 

you were silent, mouth sewn shut ever since he dropped the news. you wouldn’t look at him, and after a few minutes of picking at your food, you excused yourself. he trailed after you, spotting you in a squatted position in the field.

“life can’t tear us apart, huh?” you laughed, plucking the dandelion from the ground. 

he squatted down next to you, staring at the dandelion twirling in your hand. 

“that’s still true.”

“you’re moving, hyuck.” your voice was soft, almost blending in with the whistles of the wind. you crushed the dandelion pedals, the tears starting to prick in your eyes.

he lifted your chin to look up at him. he wiped away the tears, cupping your face. 

“hey, hey, you’re going to be fine! you’ve got jeno, jaemin and renjun by your side,” he reassured.

donghyuck pulled you into a hug, the pedals in your hand drifting away in the slight breeze. he watched them slowly land a few feet away from the picnic blanket. his grip tightened, your tears streaming down your face.

“I won’t let you go so easily,” he promised. 

donghyuck wished he stuck to those words, but here he was, five years later, with zero attempts to contact you. he touched the chain around his neck, fingers trailing down to the jewel with your birthday engraved in it. 

(“you never remember my birthday,” you pouted, “so here’s your reminder!”)

subconsciously, he started to rub it, the fleeting thought that this could magically summon you passed through his mind. he shook his head, ignoring all the unpacked boxes surrounding him and deciding that it was a nice day to go walking.

following the familiar tune, donghyuck walked until he spotted the ice cream truck nearby. just as he was about to stand behind the line, a person cut in front of him. he blinked, shocked that someone, presumably an adult, would cut in front of him for some ice cream. what shocked him more was this unsettling feeling that this girl looked like you. 

“excuse me,” he said, tapping the person on the shoulder.

donghyuck couldn’t believe his eyes, even when he recognized that scar on your eyebrow from when he dared you to jump off the swing, teasing you that you didn’t have the guts.

(“you’re bleeding!” he cried, tears effortlessly falling down his face as you cried along with him.)

if he wasn’t so close, he wouldn’t have been able to see it. 

“yes?” you asked, tone way politer than it was back in first grade.

donghyuck almost forgot why he even approached you, distracted by how the sun created a halo around you. his heart sped up, maybe you weren’t y/n. he didn’t remember you looking this pretty.

“you need to go to the back of the line,” he finally said.

you furrowed your brows, head tilting. “why…” your voice trailed off, a hint in your voice saying that your question wasn’t applying to what he just said.

he grinned seeing the gears turning in your head. “‘cause I was here first.”

if possible, the sun shone brighter, acting as the lightbulb that went off in your head.

“donghyuck?” 

“are you sure you’re free today?” he asked, eyeing the basket in your hand.

you nodded, “yeah. I was planning to enjoy this meal in the park since it’s such a nice day out today.”

“by yourself?” he asked, raising a brow.

“can’t tell if you’re judging me, but yes, by myself.”

“I’m not,” he paused, “intruding on a date with yourself?”

you stopped walking, turning to look to your left like someone was there, “hey y/n, are you okay with this?”

you stepped to the left, looking to your right, “yeah, I’m good, what about you?”

stepping back to the right, you frowned to your left, “I don’t know.” you looked back at donghyuck’s amused eyes, “he hasn’t contacted us in five years, should he really eat lunch with us?”

for the last time, you stepped to the left, “just don’t give him the cake.”

with a nod, you stepped in front of donghyuck, “myself and I think it’s okay.”

“lee donghyuck!” three boys shouted, attracting the attention of the people trying to enjoy a peaceful day at the park.

his eyes widened, looking over at your cheeky smile. 

“maybe I lied,” you giggled. 

and before he could think about the butterflies that erupted in his stomach when he heard the sound, the aforementioned three boys attacked him with slaps on the backs, words overlapping each other. 

“where have you been?”

“you do have a phone, right?”

“why are you avoiding us?”

“did you move back here?”

“are you visiting?”

“guys!” you yelled, catching the attention of the boys, “whoever’s barbecuing might want to check on the food, it’s smelling a bit burnt.”

“and-” you interrupted yourself, laughing at the untold story.

donghyuck didn’t mind, he was busy processing the noise, still not used to the fluttering in his stomach. your laugh resonated in his ears and harmonized with the chirps of the birds. it left him with a stomach full of giddiness.

“it would help if you finished your story,” renjun pointed out, taking a bite of his food.

you waved him off, “I will, I will!”

you continued your tale, recounting countless shenanigans that he missed in the past five years like when jaemin got bombarded with pom poms because he accidentally walked into the girl’s locker room.

(“I guess that’s one way to get their attention,” you laughed.

“it was my first week there! how was I supposed to know they were lying to me?”

“maybe read the signs?” renjun suggested.)

or when jeno had to reject a guy because he slipped a confession letter into the wrong locker. 

(“what a heartbreaker,” jaemin tsked, receiving a glare from jeno. 

“the letter didn’t even have his name on the paper!”)

or when renjun almost blew up the school during chemistry because he refused to listen to his lab partner. 

(“he wanted to impress her,” jeno commented.

“spoiler alert, it failed,” you added.

“she thought I was dumb,” renjun frowned.)

or when you tackled a random stranger, thinking he was the one who pranked you.

“he’s my boyfriend, now.”

did he mishear that?

“right now,” you pouted, plushed  beautifully under the sun’s rays, “he’s abroad in europe.”

“he’ll be back in two days, don’t worry,” jaemin reassured you, patting you on the back.

your eyes held all the stars in the galaxy when you talked about pandas, your favorite animal, and donghyuck thought that that was the only time your eyes would ever put the stars to shame. 

he was wrong.

as you were spewing out stories about your boyfriend, your eyes made him think that he was looking through a telescope, staring up at the night sky. you held a shy smile, melting donghyuck’s heart to mush. 

but then those words echoed in his mind. 

he’s my boyfriend.

they swirled in his mind, traveling down his spine and coiling around his heart like a snake. it crushed him, leaving a pool of disappointment in his chest. he shouldn’t be disappointed.

he looked at your practically glowing figure. your cheeks were faint with red, your lips softer than the blanket on your lap, your hands looking too heavy for you to hold, but you weren’t his. 

“we’re just friends,” he breathed out, words blending with the wind. they were heavier than he remembered, bitter as he let it rest on his tongue. thankfully, no one heard him. except you, of course.

“did you say something?” you asked him, almost swearing that you saw his mouth move.

he blinked, “what?”

you furrowed your brows, “nothing, I thought you had something to say.”

donghyuck shook his head, heart palpitating with your eyes intensely analyzing him. he took a bite of his food, hoping that you wouldn’t bother him now that he was occupied with chewing. and you did, dropping the topic and continuing on about the adventures you had with jeno, jaemin, renjun and- he doesn’t know your boyfriend’s name. 

he scoffed silently to himself, he’ll find out later. he’s bound to hear the guy’s name again, anyway.

donghyuck found it funny how he left the picnic early to get his mind off of you, yet here he was, strolling behind you with the shopping cart filled with various junk foods. it was almost two in the morning, but he couldn’t say no to you, not when he could practically see your cute pout through the phone. 

you hopped on the colored tiles scattered on the floor, humming along to some tune playing in your head. your eyes roamed over the sweet treats on the shelves, and he chuckled when you pointed out that the aisle was labeled as spices. donghyuck thought it was unfair that you seemed to shine no matter the time of day, even under the dimly lit grocery store lamps. he sighed, especially under the dimly lit grocery store lamps.

with a gasp, you grabbed a box of cookies from the shelf, waving them in his face. “it’s your favorite cookies!” you teased.

he hated those cookies. 

“actually, I’m already going with someone to the dance.”

the girl shook her head, pushing the cookies back to him, “who-”

“you got me cookies?” you squealed, appearing out of nowhere and taking the box of cookies from him.

“actually-” his admirer started, trying to take back the gift from you.

you ignored the girl, ripping opening the box and stuffing one in your mouth.

“thanks hyuck!”

“is she the one your taking to the dance?” the other girl sneered, looking at you with a glare.

he wrapped an arm around your shoulder, smiling fondly at you as you giddily ate the cookies you knew he didn’t like. “well yeah, she’s my girl friend.” 

and you looked at him with a mouth full of cookies and cheeks flushed red. you nodded, “yep, he’s my boyfriend.”

he chuckled, his thumb wiping away the crumbs on your face. “you’re not going to leave any cookies for me?” he teased.

while he meant for the label to be platonic (simply a girl who’s a friend), donghyuck knew that his classmate took it romantically. and he almost went along with it, but when jaemin asked him if the two of you were finally dating, he laughed it off. ‘we’re just friends.’ he ignored the discontent in his stomach and how empty it felt when you shrugged off his arm.

regret clouded his mind, forcing another memory into his brain.

“my family is waiting for me in the car,” donghyuck chuckled, your arms locked in place.

“let them wait,” you frowned, words muffled by his shirt.

“I got to get going.”

your grip tightened and you told him three words that he acted like he didn’t hear.

“I love you,” he blurted.

your smile dropped, along with your arms. you stared at him with confused eyes and backed up three steps.

“remember when that girl told me that?” he quickly added, the seed of regret growing, continuously gnawing away at his heart with each second that passed by, “she made a banner and everything.”

silence.

you could see through him, you always did. that made his heart pound even more. you were just staring at him.

“I have a boyfriend.” your voice was level despite the wavering in your eyes and the tense scrunch of your shoulders. 

he swallowed, hesitant to speak. “I know.”

donghyuck clenched his jaw, he knew that. he didn’t need another reminder that he was too late. he didn’t need another reminder that he should’ve confessed to you before he left. he didn’t need another reminder that you moved on. 

“I...I have to go.”

you left him there, surrounded by boxes of sweet snacks in an aisle labeled as spices. 

[louiserandom]

Of Punishments and Rewards

Pairing: Senju Tobirama/Uchiha Madara | Rating: M

Summary: The citizens of Konoha have long grown used to (and frankly bored of) the often destructive spectacle that is Madara and Tobirama screaming their lungs out at each other in the market district. During one such clash, however, Madara suffers an accidental concussion and proceeds to not-so-accidentally flirt with, grope, and expose his secret affair with none other than the white-haired Senju he's supposed to hate.

Now this has the whole village intrigued.

Read Chapter 1 on AO3 or continue under the cut :3 Ko-fi info is in the header!

The citizens of Konoha have long grown used to (and frankly bored of) the often destructive spectacle that is Madara and Tobirama screaming their lungs out at each other in the market district. So when today the Uchiha Clan Head, foul mood and all, stomps towards an unsuspecting Tobirama (who really isn’t bothering anybody and seems to be busy enough picking out oranges) and starts shrieking at the top of his lungs about some manner of ‘experimental bullshit' crawling out of Tobirama's 'death trap of a lab,' most of the passersby find themselves stifling a yawn.

Another day, another bout of fires and flooding from the two village founders whose hate for each other hasn’t diminished in the slightest in the two years of Konoha’s existence.

Grown stronger, if anything.

“BECAUSE I AM NOT,” Madara bellows at the end of his first public rant of the day (though surely not the last), “GOING TO STAND FOR YOUR BRAZEN INCOMPETENCE ANYMORE, SENJU!”

Of course, Madara accusing Tobirama of incompetence is also nothing new, although it is common knowledge that it’s the latter who often has to get the Hokage and his best friend out of ridiculously foolish debacles.

(Konoha still remembers how the two godlike shinobi somehow stumbled into quite the deep hole intended for garbage disposal and in their drunken stupor ended up forgetting that they could have simply jumped outーwhat with their immense chakra reserves no less. Tobirama, naturally, had been exceptionally cross that day.)

“Incompetence?” Tobirama only scoffs in answer. “Whatever problem you have with how I handle my duties, Uchiha, pales in comparison to the damage your complete lack of logic deals to society.”

“You shut the fuck up,” Madara snaps, fists clenching and chakra becoming visible alreadyーa faintly shimmering fire-cloak upon his form. That really never bodes well for the market’s survival. “And study the logic behind proper fucking sleep so your complete lack of sense and self-restraint doesn’t lead to more dangerous fucking jutsu that spiral out of fucking control!”

This does perk up a few ears; after all, what novelty of Tobirama Senju’s could appear more dangerous than his summoning of an undead army that past Obon Festival?

“I am conducting a perfectly safe study,” Tobirama says, though Madara doesn’t seem like he believes him at all. “And not of a jutsu but a living being. Though it’s unsurprising your handful of brain matter failed to distinguish the two.”

“A living being with nine godsdamned tails made out of enough chakra to wipe out the whole of Fire Country?!”

This perks up a few more ears but seeds no panic; it’s thanks to Tobirama, after all, that most of Konoha has seen much, much worse. 

“It's a perfectly docile and friendly chakra fox,” Tobirama insists, crossing his arms. “Now for the love of all things holy and unholy, stop your shrieking.” He glances at the mostly disinterested crowd. “You’re embarrassing me. And yourself, though I doubt there’s any room to sink lower than you have.”

“I will fucking destroy you, you worthless piece of shit!” The crackles of a budding Katon flicker around Madara’s fists. “Now go and take care of your fucking experiment-living-chakraーwhatever bullshit, or I will fight you and there will be no remains left for your brother to cry over.”

Tobirama glares, straightening to his full height which has him towering above Madara’s bristling frame. “How so much fight can fit in so little a man,” he sneers, “I will never understand.”

Three things happen in quick succession.

Naturally, Madara attacks. A massive raging wall of fire sizzles straight at Tobirama, who matches Madara’s wild toothy grin with a smirk as he jumps out of the way with the usual easeーonly for Madara to charge at him, fist coated with white-hot flames, and unsurprisingly, Tobirama dodges yet again.

What does come as a surprise is Madara’s slight... miscalculation, it seems, as his eyes linger a bit too long in the general direction of Tobirama’s thighs for some reason, and he’s just slow enough to miss the giant crate of oranges that falls from a panicking store owner’s shelf.

“Madara-sama!” the salesman cries as the legendary Uchiha collides with the box headfirst and drops limply to the ground. “F-forgive me,” the poor man stutters, appearing quite a bit more worried about Tobirama than Madara’s squirming form.

After all, neither of the two are happy when their fights are interrupted before they can destroy at least one building, and as expected, the Senju in question frowns and visibly deflates.

“Madara?” Tobirama asks, tentative, banishing the spikes of ice he’s conjured with his jutsu.

“Mmm,” Madara articulates from the ground, face scrunched in pain as he squints at the sky as if it’s personally offended him. “Mm-wha?..”

In a yet unseen show of kindness, Tobirama walks up to him and kneels to check on Madara’s condition. Quite a few stares shift in their direction. Shouldn’t Tobirama be inclined to leave the Uchiha to suffer?

Apparently not.

“Madara? Can you hear me?” Receiving no answer, Tobirama coaxes him to sit up as he checks over his head. Though unwounded, it does appear he’s seriously concussed as he starts slurring nonsense and pointing at a part of the crowd mumbling something about ‘fute birdsies.’ “Listen, IーAnija will be really upset if you’re seriously hurt, so can you tell meー”

Madara slaps a gloved hand roughly over Tobirama’s mouth. Another uncharacteristic move that provokes many a frown. The pair usually avoid skin to skin contact religiously, even when fighting.

“Your lips,” Madara slurs, eyes unfocused as he stares dazedly at his supposed enemy, “could putーbe put to... much better use than talking.”

“W-what?” Tobirama stammers, shoving the hand away and scrambling to his feet.

“I said your lips,” Madara tries to clarify, before Tobirama cuts him off, “Shut the fuck up, you moron!” he grits through his teeth, extending a hand to the Uchiha as he flops back down to lie on the ground.

“And get up," Tobirama orders, "now. I’m taking you to Anija. Concussions are tricky to heal and I might not be able to avoid leaving lasting effects.”

Madara smirks, and for some reason that prompts a look of horror to settle on Tobirama’s face. For good reason, as the onlookers discover.

“It’s always up for you, Tobirama,” Madara’s slurring is mixed with a bit of a stupid-sounding drawl as he positively ogles Tobirama, eyes once again lingering a tad lower than appropriate. “The question is if you wanna play.”

“Madara!” Tobirama hisses, casting death glares at the crowds now circled around them as one unified and now definitely intrigued mob. “Stop this foolishness right this instantー”

“Stop isn’t our safe-word, Tobiー”

“ーand take my fucking hand!”

“I’d rather have it wrapped around myー”

“MADARA!” Tobirama is trembling with fury at this point, chakra radiating killing intent enough for shinobi and civilian alike to feel it wash over them. The people gathered only scuffle closer, disappointed that the rest of Madara’s sentence gets drowned out by Tobirama’s shout and their own collective gasp. Tobirama pinches the bridge of his nose. “Not. Here.”

“I kno-ow,” Madara whines, finally grasping for Tobirama’s hand only to use it to yank him down once he gets ahold of it. “This hand indefーit definitely needs to be reaching a lot lower.”

“Madara, gods fucking dammit,” Tobirama growls as he wrests himself from Madara hold, “people are staring.”

To be fair, the self-proclaimed honorable and pure-hearted citizens of Konoha make an effort to pretend they aren’t gapingーwhich really isn’t an easy task though, because the display is turning out to be more exciting than any of the village-wide festivities to date.

“Oh?” Madara seems to be trying to raise one eyebrow but ends up skewing his face into an awkward frown at best. “If yesterday’s anything to go by, you don’t mind a little voytriloquism yourself, koibito.”

Another round of gasps follows as Tobirama blanches, mouth slightly agape and lips trembling. Someone helpfully shouts, “Do you mean voyeurism, Uchiha-sama?”

“Yes-yes!” Madara pipes up, still squirming helplessly on the ground. “Voyagerism. That.”

“Uchiha,” Tobirama glowers, a sheen of blue energy wrapping around his limbs as his ire escalates, “I am literally begging you toー”

“Didn’t get enough earlier, eh?” Madara leers, finally managing to wriggle into a half-sitting position, sending a few oranges rolling on the ground. Intrigued and unperturbed by Tobirama’s spluttering (and what a strange sight it is, to see the usually composed Senju at such a loss for words), Madara picks up two of the fruits and proceeds to shock the bystanders to the core once more, “You know, they say fresh squeezed oranges are good for you in the morning, but I think your fresh squeezed diー”

“MADARA, NO!” Tobirama roars, this time quite evidently to drown out Madara’s words.

“Madara, yes,” the Uchiha moans, “that’s all I remember you saying to me this morning.” A few desperate “Kai” resound in the area as Madara Uchiha incarnate starts licking the oranges in his hands. He keeps eye contact with Tobirama all the while as he sucks on them, shameless and wanton, swirling his tongue over the fruits with such wanton enthusiasm one might think him a common harlot. “Remind you of anything, To-bi-ra-ma?”

Needless to say, the world plunges into chaos. Choruses of cheers and wolf whistles, sounds of both affront and confusion erupt from the bystanders as quite a few women rush to cover their husbands’ eyes lest they require the same astonishing level of skill from them.

Tobirama, meanwhile, seems to have finally regained his ability to act, if not speak, and proceeds to grab Madara by his collar and drag him into a wobbly stance, slapping a hand bathed in faint green glow against the Uchiha’s forehead.

"Get permanent brain damage for all I care.” Tobirama gives Madara a pretty hard shake. “Now will you stop fucking talking?”

"You don’t tell me what to do, Senju,” Madara grumbles, looking a bit steadier on his feet now even as his voice still sounds a bit shaky. “And how did I get here?”

Tobirama ignores him, directing one last glower at the excited crowd as he commands, “Don’t you dare speak a word of this to the Hokage,” before disappearing into thin air with Madaraーhis secret lover, something Konoha still can’t wrap its collective head aroundーin tow.

Granted, the younger Senju must have sensed his brother’s approach because the next second none other than Hashirama steps into the market with the usual wide grin on his face, flowers sprouting on each patch of ground he steps on. The crowd stills and grows silent but for a few moments as Tobirama’s order rings clear in their minds, and yet,

“What happened here?” Hashirama asks in childlike confusion.

In just a handful of moments, it proves too much of a temptation for Konoha prolific rumor mill to resist.

“Madara was doing what in front of my Otouto?!”

[oddsnendsfanfics]

Holding On for Dear Life Pt3

Genre: Fan Fiction (Vikings) Pairing: Hvitserk/OFC Warnings: Medical, Illness, Sexual Content Rating: M Length: Multi Chapter Disclaimer: a strict work of fiction, I own nothing except the original characters and the plot line. In no way am I affiliated to any of it.  

thank you @flowers-in-your-hayr​ for the header

Catch Up Here

“I have decided that I hate your brother.” Emmer declared.

“Which one?” Hvitserk raised his eyes from his phone.

“Ivar,” Emmer groaned, flopping down on the couch beside Hvitserk.

“What did he do now?”

“He's been texting me all week. He's mad at me, because you said you wouldn't go on that stupid date.” Emmer chuckled, “told you that you should go.”

“No.” Hvitserk shook his head, putting his phone down before he sent Ivar a rather nasty text.

“Then tell him that you lied, we're not together, and to stop texting me.”

Shaking his head, Hvitserk sighed. If that would actually work, he would do it.  Ivar was relentless when he wanted something, his brothers often blamed their mother for that. Ever since Ivar was a small child, he was never told “no” and meant it. As he grew older, Hvitserk seemed to be the one to tell him the two letter word the most.

“You know that is useless, but when I see him,” Hvitserk smirked, “I will tell him that you said fuck off.”

“Fuck you.” Emmer shoved him in the arm, laughing when he nearly fell over.

“I mean here? In the living room? What if someone saw?” Holding a hand to his chest, Hvitserk gasped.

“Why are we friends?”

“Because you will never find another person as amazing, fantastic, or handsome as me.” Hvitserk continued to laugh.

Emmer rolled her eyes, shaking her head at him. No matter how much she joked, Hvitserk would never be replaced and they both knew it. Snuggling into the fleece blanket on the couch, Emmer snickered and laid over with her head on Hvitserk's lap. Closing her eyes, she hummed happily.

“Seriously, why don't you go and Ivar will stop terrorizing us all.”

“Because, I don't want to, and Ivar needs to learn that he isn't the boss of everyone.” Hvitserk gently ran his hand over Emmer's arm.

“You Lothbrok men are impossible.”

“We are, it's a trait that had been passed down through generations. From our ancestors, all the way back to when our family were fierce and ferocious Vikings.” he snorted at his own attempt to be a master story teller.

“Sure, sure. Of course, Vikings. And my family lived with King Henry VIII.” Emmer snorted.

“Could be possible.”

“Unlikely, but sure why not. Who told you that you were Vikings?”

“My dad.”

“Of course he did.” Emmer giggled. Leave it to Ragnar to come up with an elaborate story about his family's history. Anything to make himself seem interesting and slightly more important than his brother. “How are your parents anyway? Alfred asked me about them this morning, I just told him that they were doing fine. I guess I really haven't seen them in a while.”

“Mom is still mad and dad is still attempting to sow his seed in foreign fields. Same old shit.” Leaning forward, Hvitserk reached for his glass of water. “So yeah, they're fine. Mom is trying to get us together this weekend, for dinner on Sunday. Do you want to come?”

Emmer scrunched up her nose, gently shaking her head side to side, as if really weighing the outcome to her next words. “Eh, sure.”

“Really?”

“Sure. Unless, you're asking me because you think it will be a good chance to show Ivar that we're actually together. Then no.” She tilted her head, looking up at Hvitserk with innocent eyes.

“I was just thinking it would save you from cooking.”

“Then I shall be there. What time?”

“I'll pick you up.” Hvitserk left the details vague, mainly because he wasn't sure that this was even a dinner open to friends. Ah well, he'd tell his mother that Emmer was coming right before they arrived. Aslaug was always happy to see Emmer, anyway.

If Emmer was present, then whatever bullshit his family was going to be thrown into, would be mild. They behaved better when there was someone to watch them. Not that Emmer would care. She would never judge, but she enjoyed watching the Lothbrok drama unfold. They were way more entertaining than her own family.

Her parents were divorced and hadn't spoke to one another since she was seven. They were never together and it seemed like both sides were happier that way. Whatever.

“Anything I should bring?”

“Yourself.”

And the biggest bottle of the strongest alcohol she could find. That went without saying.

“Aww, well then I think I can manage. Oh, what about some of those flowers your mom likes? The purple and pink ones that I got her for her birthday?”

“If you want.”

“I'll pick some up this week. Also, do I need to dress up or can I come casually?”

“Casual is probably best. Hell, come in your pjs for all my mother will care.”

Emmer's eyes lit up and her shoulder shook with a hidden laugh. “I sleep naked, you know. Are you sure?”

“Well, I've seen you naked. And so has Gyda. What's the rest of my family?”

“Ah, well, when you put it that way...” Emmer winked and burst into a fit of laughter.

“You're terrible.”

“Details.” Emmer smirked, groaning when her phone buzzed on the table beside her. No doubt it was Ivar, again. “What's it say?” she asked Hvitserk. Leaning forward to see the screen, Hvitserk picked up the phone.

“It's my brother,” He handed the phone to Emmer. “Bjorn, not Ivar.”

“Still annoying, but he signs my paycheck.” Emmer sat up, her head leaving Hvitserk's lap, in favour or reading a text from Bjorn.

The eldest Lothbrok child, via Ragnar's first marriage, Bjorn had set the bar for the rest of his brothers. With the exception of Gyda, who could burn the world down and Ragnar would still insist she was the greatest child in the family. Everyone lived in the shadow of the great Bjorn Lothbrok. A former athlete turned businessman, he ran his own company in partner to his uncle, Rollo.

Emmer had taken on a job with Bjorn, because it allowed her to work at her own pace, even when she wasn't feeling the best. Bjorn took into consideration that his Online Marketing Director – unofficial title – would have days where she wasn't up for an office job, or even weeks where she may not go further than her couch. He never put pressure on Emmer and was rather fair with the hours he expected her to work each week.

“Mmm, I have said nothing, but your dad isn't going to be happy.”

“Why?”

“According to these details that Bjorn has sent me, it seems your uncle is buying part of Bjorn's share in the company. Didn't your dad want Bjorn to sell that to Ivar?”

“Probably, fucked if I know.” Hvitserk grumbled. He stayed away from business. He preferred to work two jobs, making ends meet. His first job was a cook at a brunch cafe downtown. When he wasn't there, he worked part time coaching youth league football. The odd time he would coach one on one.

“I guess we will find out soon enough.”

“You will probably know before me, but if this comes up during dinner, we're sneaking out the back.”

“Deal.”

No strangers to dodging dinner drama, Emmer would sit around all night watching the family implode, if Hvitserk would let her. The typical Lothbrok dinner drama started with Ivar and Sigurd in a fight. Or when Ragnar invited his ex wife and didn't tell Aslaug. An argument over business would be far less entertaining.

Hvitserk loved dinner with Emmer's family. He had yet to dine with them and witness a fist fight before the food made it onto the table.

The first time Emmer had ever been to dinner at the Lothbrok's, she had witnessed Bjorn and Ubbe in a fist fight during dessert. Someone thought it was a good idea to tell everyone that Bjorn's ex wife had been sleeping with Ubbe. Never had Emmer been so delighted to witness a fight. Odd, but she enjoyed the chaos.

Currently Bjorn was separated and Ubbe was divorced. Although, it would be amusing if Ubbe was sleeping with Bjorn's new girlfriend. Who was Emmer kidding, Gunnhild was way too smart to fuck Ubbe, while dating his brother.

“Should I make brownies?” Emmer glanced at Hvitserk. Hvitserk shrugged. “You know, for dinner on Sunday.”

“If you want. I mean, you can make them right now. If you want, I won't pass up on brownies.” Hvitserk laughed, tapping his hand against his shockingly taught tummy. How he stayed so lean, was the world's greatest mystery.

“Or, you could make them and I will dictate how.”

“No, I'd probably burn the place down.”

“Says the man who works in a restaurant.” Emmer sat up. “Does your boss know this?”

“Shh,” Hvitserk held his finger to his lips. “It's supposed to be a secret.”

Brows raised, Emmer nodded lightly. “Ah, got it. Your secret is safe with me.” Shoving her shirt sleeves up, she stood, stretching.

“I'm touched.” Hvitserk leaned back on the couch, covering his head with his hands. “You're the best.”

“Am I, or do you only say that when you want something?” Sticking out her tongue, Emmer teased him.

“Always. You know it, don't be difficult.”

“Sure, sure. I am going to make brownies, then I am going to reply to Bjorn. After that, I need more details on who is coming to dinner Sunday.”

The guest list had zero impact on Emmer, her attendance, or the dinner. She only wanted to know, to sit around the rest of the week trying to figure out who would be the first to cause drama. From Hvitserk's knowledge she had the usual suspects. His parents, siblings, Emmer, family friends Floki and Helga. Bjorn's kids, would possibly be there, and that was it.

Sunday morning, Emmer woke earlier than usual to bake a pan of brownies. Not wanting them to be too hot when she arrived at the Lothbrok's. Dinner was at three, which meant Hvitserk picked her up around one. Aslaug would surely lecture him if he was any later.

Despite Hvitserk's insistence that this was a casual Sunday dinner, Emmer put a little effort into looking somewhat decent. A comfortable a line dress, loose enough to fit a pair of men's boxer shorts under neath without showing. A free swinging pouch was nerve wracking for anybody. Emmer would not be caught in the middle of dinner feeling like she was literally about the lose her shit. A light snicker at the latter thought, she swept a quick bit of lip gloss on and she was ready.

Brownies in hand, flowers, and a small bag with extra clothing – just in case, Emmer met Hvitserk at the door before he had a chance to come in.

“Wow,” He whistled softly. “I feel under dressed.”

“You look fine, besides it's not like this is even that fancy. I've had it forever.” Emmer rolled her eyes, locking the door behind them.

“I know,” Hvitserk shrugged, he had been with her when she bought the poppy red dress. “but you still look lovely. I may need to change.”

“What's wrong with your jeans and shirt? You look good. May wanna fix your hair a bit, but you look good.” Emmer led the way down the hall.

Ragnar and Aslaug lived about an hour outside of the city, a small village, where most of the families were well off or pretending to be. Nobody drove anything cheaper than a range rover and every house had a front gate. This had been the house they'd moved into after Hvitserk had left home. Although they kept a room for each of their children, just in case.

The first time Emmer had came to visit, she'd nearly lost her eyes from their sockets. This house was massive, the yard looked like something from a posh magazine, and inside was elegant but cozy. Stepping inside always felt like walking into a country cabin.

“Mom? Dad?” Hvitserk called walking into the house. Gyda's car was in the drive, along with Sigurd's. There was no screaming or yelling, which meant Bjorn or Ubbe were bringing Ivar.

“Hvitserk?” Aslaug called out, hurrying into the entrance. “Oh, Emmer!” Her face turned from anxious to calm and relaxed. “How lovely to see you.” she hugged her son's best friend. “You look lovely.”

“Thank you. So do you.” Emmer hugged the tall woman, pulling back to hand her the flowers. “These are for you Oh, I love your haircut.”

Hvitserk rolled his eyes at the exchange. Leave it to Emmer to butter up his mother.

“I wanted you to know, that I have several dishes set aside just for you.” Aslaug accepted the  flowers and smiled warmly.

“Oh, you didn't have to do that.” Emmer smiled, thankful that Aslaug had tried to make her life a little easier. Sometimes eating food that she didn't have a hand in making was a nightmare. Limited diets were a hassle that nobody should ever have to endure.

“Non sense, Hvitserk said you were coming and I wanted to make sure you had a choice.” Aslaug gave her a tight one armed hug. “I made it all specific, no need to worry about running into something that you can't have.”

“Well thank you, really. I appreciate it.”

“So, mom, anything you need help with?” Hvitserk reminded them that he was still present, not that they seemed to notice during their little bonding session.

“Get yourselves a drink, make yourselves comfortable, and that is about it. As soon as everyone arrives, we're going to eat.”

Following his mother to the kitchen, to find a home for the brownies, Hvitserk didn't take long to return. Emmer had been here enough to make herself at home, with or without Hvitserk by her side. The second he had disappeared, she'd headed straight for the living room, finding Gyda.

“Emmy!” Gyda approached with open arms. “It's been way too long.”

“Tell me about it.” Emmer hugged Gyda tightly. “You need to come visit, more.”

“I know, I've been so busy.” She rolled her eyes, “and then there is baby sitting Ivar. I swear to god, I am going to beat his ass some day.”

“He's been driving me nuts, too.” Emmer shrugged.

“He told me that you and Hvitty are back together? I am going to need all of those details, because I am all for this.” Gyda winked and smiled.

Biting her lip, Emmer glanced at her feet. “Uh, well as far as Ivar is concerned we are. Something about Hvits not wanting to go on some stupid date. Anyway, if Ivar asks, we're madly in love.”

“Got it.” Gyda laughed at the situation. Leave it to Hvitserk to come up with an elaborate lie and drag everybody around him into it. A gift he had inherited from Ragnar. “I won't say a thing.”

“He needs to get over himself and worry about his own life.” Emmer winced. “Sorry, I know he's your brother.”

“Details, look don't worry about it. As much as I love him, there are times when he is a pain in the ass.” Shrugging, Gyda dismissed the conversation about her baby brother. “So, what else has been going on?”

Escaping the kitchen, Hvitserk wandered through to the living room, the house had more rooms than two people ever needed. Whatever, his parents were happy – or some shit like that. Checking his phone, he paused and lifted his head in time to see his dad attempting to sneak out the side door and into the garage.

“Hey dad,” Hvitserk gave him a short nod.

“Hvitserk, I didn't know you'd arrived yet. Have you seen your mother?” Ragnar clasped his hand on Hvitserk's shoulder. Giving him a short bro type hug.

“Yep,” he nodded, shifting from one foot to the other. “So, what's new?”

“Same shit, you know how it goes.” Ragnar shrugged, stroking his neatly trimmed beard. “Ivar said that you and Emmy are back together.”

“Uh,” Hvitserk rubbed the back of his neck. “Um, she's here, you know. She was heading to find Gyda.”

“Good, good. I'm glad she's here. You know, I wasn't surprised you'd get back together. You need to hurry up and marry her already. Make an honest woman of her.” Smirking, Ragnar slapped Hvitserk on the shoulder. “At least one man in this family needs a stable woman.”

“It's not like that and I don't know that she'd be up for that. Anyway, where you off to?”

“On my way to pick up Ivar, apparently your brothers have better things to do than drive him around. Want to come?”

“Not particularly. But, don't let me keep you. Have fun.” Hvtserk waved as he walked away.

Leave it to his father to try and force his kids into something as big as marriage. Ironic, coming from Ragnar, seeing as his marriages had both fell apart. Aslaug refused to sign the papers, which was the only reason they were still legally together. Whatever, Hvitserk didn't want to try and figure that out right now.

He loved both of his parents, despite their downfalls.  

As suspected, Emmer and Gyda were cozy in the den. Curled up on either end of the plush sofa chattering away, while Sigurd sat in the corner playing with his old guitar. Seeing Hvitserk first, Sigurd acknowledged him brother with a slight head bob. Returning the nod, Hvitserk bee lined for the small bar in the corner.

Mixing a gin and tonic, a vodka and soda, and cracking two beer he handed Sigurd the gin first. Sauntering over to Emmer and Gyda he held out the  beer. “Ladies.” he  passed them over, before grabbing his drink.  

“Hey Hvits.” Emmer smiled moving to make room.

“Looked like you ladies could use a drink. Dad is on the way to get Ivar.”

“Thank you.” Emmer  kissed him on the cheek, she smiled sweetly. If Ivar thought they were together, she was going to sell it.

“What was that for?”

“For being you.” Emmer wrinkled her nose, leaning into his side. Hiding her face in the crook of his neck. God he smelled good. “Selling it for Ivar, whenever he arrives.” She whispered and giggled. Hvitserk nodded and licked his lips. “So,” she leaned back giving him another kiss, this time on the neck. “How does that sound?”

“Like you're about to get us into trouble,” Hvitserk took a drink and swallowed hard. “But I like it. I think it's doable.”

“Guys, can you two do this elsewhere? I don't need to see you sucking face.” Sigurd groaned.

“Fuck you,” Hvitserk flipped his brother off.

“Boys,” Emmer wagged her finger at them, in a mock sternness. “Don't make me separate you.”

“Sigurd, stop being such a pain in the ass.” Gyda stood, dropping herself onto the arm of the chair where Sigurd sat. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she kissed his cheek hard. “One pain in the ass little brother is enough.”

“You need to stop treating me like I am five.” Sigurd groaned, laughing when she ruffled his thick red hair.

“And you need to mind your own business.” Hvitserk quipped, sticking out his tongue.

“You two are morons. But I love you both, anyway.” Gyda sighed, taking a drink of her beer. “Come on, Sig. She nudged her brother in the shoulder. “Let's go see what trouble we can get into, so these guys can suck face without making you vomit.”

Once they were alone the lovey dovey act would dissipate faster than Ivar in a genuinely good mood. Giving Hvitserk and Emmer a wink, Gyda guided Sigurd out of the room and around the corner.

@danceyreagan​ @gearhead66​ @supernaturalvikingwhore​  @funmadnessandbadassvikings​ ,  @smutgoblin​ , @nickysurfer28​ , @igetcarriedawaywithyou​ , @lif3snotouttogetyou​, @akamaiden​, @laketaj24​ @neeadinghugs​, @thoughtsmeander2tumblingblindly​, @ilvebeenabad​ , @naaladareia​, @tephi101​ , @sdcyumyum​  , @imgoldielikehawn​ , @sparklemichele​ , @titty-teetee​  , @smolasianwinterbean​  , @sweetvengeancee​ , @capitanostella​ , @ateliefloresdaprimavera​ , @branflakes82​ , @lordavanti​ , @vvigilantes​  , @angelswannawearmyredshooz​ , @kawennote09​ , @bluearchersstuff​ , @lisinfleur​ , @fumblingthroughchaos​ @pebblesz892​ , @angelaiswriting​ , @kiiiimberlyriiiicker1995​, @unacceptabletatertots​ @itsspecial-itsnotforeveryone​, @captstefanbrandt​, @writingfromasgard​, @happydaysandersen​, @letowolfie​, @alicedopey​, @beautifulramblingbrains​, @equalstrashflavoredtrash​, @rosepetals-flyingbirds​ , @ivarswickedqueen​, @oqueequesentes-borboletas​, @sodanova​, @groovyzombiellama​, @therealcalicali​, @rekdreams-fandom​ @grungyblonde​, @nevlahhh​ , @natalie-reader​, @ivarlothbroks​, @lol-haha-joke​ , @medievalfangirl​ @fictionbanshee​ @thisisabigmaze​  @ethereallysimple​ @emilie1993​  @mariaenchanted​ @grav3yard-gh0st​​ @youbloodymadgenius​​

*I am operating on an old tag list, if you wish to be added/removed, please let me know*

[authorkimberlygrey]

The things you need to start the self publishing thing

This is a day late, doesn’t even follow the how to do the thing format, and my dyslexia is running rampant today so ther’s probably six billion typos and mispellings but fuck it let’s goooooooo

Shit you’ll need before you can even get to the shit you need: 

A complete manuscript

I’m talking multiple drafts here people. Beta readers, self edits, tears, blood sacrifice, the works. Unfortunately, this isn’t 1920, we cannot publish our first drafts. 

I mean, you can but its not gonna go well. 

Money

Like. Lots of money. This shit is Expensive. 

A Plan

Don’t be like me. Don’t just suddenly go “alright let’s publish” one day

Actually lay out a timeline for yourself 

Expect delays 

So Many Delays

Plan for publishing at least like six months in advance you will thank yourself later I promise

Ingramspark vs. Createspace or whatever they call it now. They changed the name the other day I think

I went for ingramspark 

Because 

Fuck amazon

Ingramspark is More Professional 

Everyone else also thinks “fuck amazon”

You’ll be able to sell your book more places this way. 

This one is a p personal decison so look this shit up yourself. 

One you’ve got that shit, you can get this other shit

First things first, hire an editor. There are a shit ton of different editors out there, I’m not listing them all, mostly because I don’t remember them all and a lot of them overlap anyway. The majority of places will let you pick an editing ‘package’ that’ll combine several types. Go with that. 

Alright I’ll list a couple kinds of editor. Just the ones I can remember tho, I’m not looking them up again.

Content Editor-looks over the big picture, the story itself. Fuck that grammar bullshit, this is about lookign for plot holes and character inconsistencies and shit. Basically a beta on steroids, I love these dudes. 

Line Editor-this is what everyone thinks of when they say editor. They do the grammar shit. 

Sensitivity reader-make sure you’re not making a dick of yourself, good thing to have. 

Learn how to Format the book

This one you actually can do yourself, its not like...unattainably difficult, especially if you can get ahold of Microsoft Word. 

The basics are: 

Book Size

8.5x5.5 is pretty much the most common

And that’s the interior pages, the cover itself tends to add a lil bit onto that and so if you go measure a bunch of books you’re gonna get 9x6 or something

Font

12 pt. Times New Roman is the standard

Margins.

I think 1 inch is standard? 

Listen, this shit gets complicated and its been like nine months since I did it, I’ll link you some things at the end so you can get a better idea. 

 Header and Footer

Pro tip: Center all of this shit, that way you don’t have to fuck around with aligning it right on the corners of the page. 

Author name on one page, book name on the other

You can do evens or odds, I don’t think there’s a standard

Page number on every page 

EXCEPT: the first page of a new chapter

Just to make things more difficult, nothing goes on those pages. Because fuck you. 

Widows and Orphans 

Yeah I know “what the fuck does that mean???” 

You know how sometimes you’ll have this one sentence that’s just hogging a whole page? Yeah those 

Or those times that a sentence goes onto the next page all on its own

I’m not sure which of those are widows and which ones are orphans tbh. I mean... I could probably guess but nothing is simple you know? 

There’s some places that’ll tell you to do this manually by changing the line spacing and/or text size of each page? 

Don’t fuckign do that

That’s ludicrous. 

There’s literally a button for it on microsoft word

This is one of those things where the easy solution is actually the one you’re supposed to use. 

Oh yeah, indents

No you can’t just press tab

That would be too easy.

And nothing can be easy, remember? 

0.3/0.5 is the standard I think. 

Also make sure everything is left aligned. 

And the line spacing is usually double spaced? I think? 

I want to say there was a certain number of lines per page that was standard and you’re supposed to fiddle around until you get that. So enjoy. 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0IGkyMhsr28

https://firstmanuscript.com/proper-manuscript-format/

A Cover

Unless you’re like A Professional don’t do this yourself its way more complicated than you’d think 

Have a Solid Idea of what you want your cover to look like. Just shrugging and going “idk man” isn’t going to help anyone. 

This isn’t just the fun artsy shit either

Figure out where you’re putting the blurb and your author picture and your author bio, which, btw, you gotta write too. I’ll get there. 

Author Bio 

Jenna Morecci did a whole video on this so def look that up cause that’s pretty much the best info I’ve got for you. 

But: 

3-5 sentences

Written in third person

Yes its weird to write about yourself this way, just go with it. 

Embrace your inner “whatever fictional character talks in third person” and go with it

One sentence on your experience with writing whatever this is

One sentence about yourself/shit you like 

And one on something else, I’m not watching the whole video over for this. Just go watch Jenna, you’ll love her.

I don’t think I’ve ever read an author bio and I don’t know anyone else who does either but I guess somebody must so we all have to suffer. 

A Copyright thing

Like. Register your book with the copy right office so that if someone tries to steal it you can tell them to stop. 

Yes this costs money too. Becasue fuck you I guess. 

This sounds really intimidating but honestly you just fill out paperwork and while that stresses me personally out beyond rationality its not really that bad. 

Don’t forget to add the copyright page in your book too, there’s a thing on the format for it, lemme look 

Here ya go: 

https://blog.reedsy.com/copyright-page/

An ISBN

Most people upon reading this immeditaely went “what the fuck is an ISBN?”

If you didn’t then good job you’re more prepared than I was. Good on you. 

An ISBN is like an identifying number for your book. 

Actually, its an identifying number for specifically this format of your book. If you’re planning on doing a paperback and an ebook or a hardcover or an audiobook or whatever, you need to get an ISBN for Every Format of it

You can buy ISBNs ((in the US at least, I don’t know about other countries sorry)) on Bowker.com 

Why did they name it that? 

I don’t know

You would think that they’d maybe pick a more...I don’t know, relevant name for their site? 

Listen, a fact of publishing a book is that everyone involved has conspired to make is as frustrating as humanly possible. You’re just going to have to accept that. 

Why is their whole site mascot a bird? 

Also don’t know. They’re having a good time with it I guess.

Maybe something to do with Bowker sounding like bough?

Also a barcode! 

Yeah, didn’t think you’d have to buy that did you? 

Neither did I but here we are

Actually you don’t have to buy one if you use ingramspark, they’ll give you one when you use their cover template thing apparently. 

Know what price you want to sell the book for

Even in self publishing, the place you’re going through is gonna want a piece of the pie. Enjoy that. 

Ingramspark has a calculator for that actually, its p cool

You can stick the price in the barcode 

Idk if that relevant but that’s a thing you can do?

uhh…..I’m pretty sure I’m forgetting something….

You might want to get an author website set up? 

You should probably have that before now but if youre doing this Chaos Style (™) like I did then you probably want it up before you publish so you can put it on the book somewhere. 

People you need to hire: 

Editor

Cover Designer

Possibly a formatting person if you decide fuck that shit

 Which. Understandable

Shit you need to get a handle on

Formatting

 If you decide fuck yourself

 Which. Understandable

Copyright

Price

ISBN 

OH yeah. 

Marketing Junk 

You honeslty need to have a handle on this shit Waaaaaaayyyy the fuck in the future. If you’re only thinking about it like...now its probably not great. 

The Chaos Method is not generally a good approach

See: Ascendant’s release was essentially a flop and even tho people who read the book love the book I’m still struggling to get people to read the book

Psst read the book its great I promise

Your book release is like. The Biggest Chance for marketing shit 

Get on top of that junk

Giveaways

Posts about it 

Just

Everything all the time everywhere

You definitely need a schedule for this 

Like seriously

Make a plan. 

That’s pretty much it I think. I mean...look in other places too because like I said earlier, its been months since I did this and when I did do it it was the Chaos Method of me just going “I’m gonna publish now” and Doing That. 

Get a plan, believe in yourself. Get a publishing mentor

Someone who’s done this shit before and can give you some encouragement and direction. 

It probably shouldn’t be me but I guess if you need help I’m game to do what I can. 

Also be prepared to like. Crash, mentally, So Hard. Its terrible. See my older post for all the shitty shit about publishing this way.

[hobi-gang]

silver sequins | jhs

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 – Jung Hoseok has been in a bit of a bad mood ever since his girlfriend broke up with him. He’s been in a bad mood for precisely four months.

Jimin and Taehyung hatch a plan to take his mind off of things.

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 – angst, fluff, crack

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 – jhs x reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 – 16.2k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 – mentions of alcohol, more angst in this than anticipated oops

𝐚/𝐧 – wrote this for someone special uwu. enjoy!

Jung Hoseok has been an idol for a while now. As an idol, he knew that it was difficult getting into a relationship. There were several steps to getting and keeping a girlfriend as an idol. It involved meeting that person, loving that person, introducing that person to your friends and inevitably to your company, and signing legally binding contracts with that person. 

The process was admittedly stressful but in the end, Hoseok was just happy to have someone that loved him. He loved that person too. He gave them everything he could. He tried so hard and poured a lot of love and energy into the relationship he had with them only to break-up with them after five months.

"It's just too hard, Hobi. There are so many rules."

"Hobi, I want the world to know about us."

"Am I just a dirty secret to you?"

He wanted all the things she did too, he really did. He wanted to show them off to the world and publically declare his love for them but he just wasn't able to. It was in the contracts they signed. They both went into it knowing that but it turned out to be more difficult than they thought it would be.

He missed going to her apartment after work and cuddling up to her while watching movies. He missed the sneaky glances. He missed falling asleep with her in his arms. He missed it all. 

If they were still together, today would've been their nine-month anniversary. It had been four months of trying to get over his relationship with her but without her, everything felt so hard. His mood had been soured, it seemed, permanently. And it was evident to each and every one of his fellow group members.

"Again!" Hoseok yelled over the music.

Jimin exhaled noisily, flopping down onto the floor with a frown. "Hyung, please," the smaller boy whined, falling to his back on the floor, spreading out all his limbs, trying desperately to steady his breathing.

"Take five, hyung. We're tired," Taehyung groaned, rubbing his neck tiredly. Yoongi stalked over to the stereo and paused the music, catching Hoseok's glaring attention in the midst of it all.

"What are you doing?" Hoseok asked him with an annoyed look on his face, stalking over to the stereo where Yoongi stood. 

Yoongi narrowed his eyes at his younger friend, "That's enough. We were supposed to be finished an hour ago. We're tired and you need to pace yourself otherwise you're going to get sick, man. Look, we know you're going through a tough time, okay? It's affecting all of us but I refuse to enable this behavior any longer. We're going home. You're going home. You're gonna rest and then we'll reconvene tomorrow, okay?"

Hoseok looked over to Namjoon and Jin who gestured their agreements from the corner, leaning against the walls of the studio, drinking from their water bottles. He turned his attention Jungkook who was already helping Jimin and Taehyung with their cooldowns. Taehyung smiled up at him sheepishly as he stretched his legs which caused Hoseok to rolls his eyes.

"So what, this is pity? The only thing you should pity right now is our formation at the bridge–"

"Hoseok, stop it!" Yoongi shouted, his words echoing off the walls. The members looked on in astonishment, not expecting their lead rapper to raise his voice like that. "The formation is fine and you know it," his eyes bore into Hoseok's and the older member could see the anger and the pain in his eyes.

"Everyone, get up and go home," Yoongi said aloud to them all and he didn't need to look away from Hoseok's narrowed eyes to know that they were already gathering their belongings, ready to leave the practice studio that they'd been stuck in for hours.

"Hoseok," he told him softly, placing his hand on the younger boy's sweaty shoulder, "Go home. Rest."

If resting meant looking at photo albums of him and his ex then Hoseok would proudly tell his hyung that he rested very well indeed.

He swiped through each and every photo, reminiscing about all the good times they had together. As he went further into the album, he felt the longing in his chest grow immensely. He sighed, putting his glass of wine down on his bedside table. A ping resonated from his phone with a notification header sliding down over the screen.

Calendar: 9 Month Anniversary with Babygirl Moon. Would you like to share?

"Shit," he murmured to himself, swiping the notification away. Seeing her nickname on the screen made him crinkle his nose. He should've removed that reoccurring event from his calendar a long time ago but he just wasn't able to bring himself to do it. It'd been four months since they've been separated, he should have moved on at least by a little bit but he continued to cling onto the memories of her with that heavy ache in his chest, the longing... The hope.

With a few more swipes, he found his thumb hovering over the red button on his screen.

Delete 349 images from 'Babygirl Moon and Big Sun' album?

YES    |    NO

349 images including the picture he was using for his lock screen. It was from a date they'd had a while ago at a sushi bar in town. She'd begged him to take a photo and he'd refused simply because of the clauses in their contract. In fact, it was rare that they'd take pictures with both of their faces fully revealed. She compromised that night, taking his hand and lifting it into the bottom of the frame of her camera. She encouraged him to smile in a goofy voice, capturing his earnest reaction at the same time. She showed him the photo afterward and he liked the lighting and the composition of her hands in his, so he changed his lock screen.

His thumbing began to quiver over the red 'NO' on the screen and a dejected sigh escaped his lips, his thumb moving away from the 'NO', instead opting to press the power off button on his phone. Staring at the dark screen with a scrunched nose, he gently threw the mobile device across his bed and laid his head on the pillows, staring up at the ceiling. He understood that his emotions were a little... All over the place since the break-up, and he knew that it was affecting the other members.

Even before he signed the contract with his now ex-girlfriend, the boys warned him that it might affect his activity within the group and that it could prove detrimental in the long run. They also voiced their dislike about her in private, not that Hoseok really minded.

He knew that his ex-girlfriend could be outspoken and that she might've been a little aggressive, impatient, and rude at times, but he loved her all the same. Granted, they fought. A lot. She'd inadvertently let some insensitive words slip out about his appearance or his attitude every week or so but they'd always make up after their fights. After she'd grovel and kiss his jaw, nuzzling into his neck with a sigh, he'd forgive her, not wanting to hold a grudge against her for a minute longer.

Yes, he found someone. Yes, he loved what he had with that someone. Yes, that someone happened to make things messy at times but it was the other things that he liked to focus on more. The candid photos she'd take of him whenever she had the chance, sneaking a risky kiss in public, having fun at the local playgrounds at night time. Hoseok fell asleep that night with an ache in his chest, the continuous throb now a familiarity, and he wondered if he would ever find love again. 

"Okay, what about this one?" Hwasa asked you, thrusting a coat hanger with a red spaghetti strap dress into your hands. 

Wheein cooed, leaning forward from the edge of the bed and brushing her hands over the soft fabric. "Ooh, that'll look so cute on you," she grinned at you.

"Hm, I don't know," you pursed your lips, lifting the dress higher and spinning it around. "I don't think red's my color."

Hwasa rolled her eyes, "So if red, blue, and yellow aren't your colors then what is?" she asked you, taking the coat hanger from your hands. You shrugged, rubbing the back of your neck and sighing. 

"Eonnie, you know I don't wear dresses. Can't I just wear something like some pants–"

Solar squealed, "Y/N, you gotta at least try it on! You have an amazing figure and you'd look incredible, trust me," she gave you a reassuring look, rubbing your arm comfortingly. With their encouragement, you sighed and retook the dress from Hwasa's hands. 

"This is peer pressuring, you know that right?" you told her with a playful glare.

"Peer pressure your butt into that bathroom, Y/N," Solar said to you, pushing you towards the bathroom. 

While your sister Hwasa was rummaging through her closet for another possible outfit for tonight's party, you emerged from the bathroom wearing the red spaghetti strap dress. "Woah," Moonbyul quipped, throwing her phone on to the bed, giving you her full attention. "Holy shit, that looks amazing," she told you, her jaw hanging low.

"I told you it'd look cute on you," Wheein added, putting her hands on your hips to spin you around.

"Do you think it'll work?" You asked them, stepping in front of the floor-length mirror, looking at yourself at different angles. "I mean, even if he just looks at me, that'd be enough," you laughed, putting your hands on your hips.

"Oh, he'll be looking at you alright. I think everyone will be," Moonbyul quipped.

You sighed longingly, "Well, what if he doesn't come?" You said aloud, playing with your hair. 

"Well," Hwasa huffed with her head in the closet, "I texted Namjoon about the party so we should be expecting all of them to come."

Moonbyul hummed and picked her phone back up to take a picture of you. 

"Oh, damn," Hwasa whistled upon seeing you in the red dress. There was a bunch of clothes pooled around her feet after she'd rummaged through her closet. "I mean, that dress looks amazing on you and all but I think I may have found something better," she winked, handing you another coat hanger.

You lifted the long-sleeved silver sequin dress into view. You were in awe, "I didn't even know you had this," you told your sister, turning the hanger around to examine the dress from all sides.

"If I remember correctly, I bought it last year but I haven't really found the time or place to wear it. Try it on, I think it'll look better on you anyway," she urged you, pushing you back into the bathroom.

After the door had closed behind you, Solar sighed. "I think we might have to get her some floaties for the party. She'll be drowning in drool before she even steps in the venue," she giggled, earning amused looks from her bandmates.

 Yoongi was busy texting Hoseok, the two of them throwing lyric ideas back and forth between one another for the song they were writing together. It'd been almost a month since the incident in the practice studio. They both had a private conversation with each other the next day where Hoseok finally confessed to Yoongi that he was struggling to let go of the past.

It was clear to all of the members that Hoseok was dealing with some issues but the fact that he had actually admitted it out loud, Yoongi felt that he was taking a step in the right direction and he was proud of him for having the strength to do so. Hoseok had since apologized to the members for taking his anger out on them and for being so upset and while they accepted his apology, it was evident to them that things with him were not nearly as normal as they used to be.

"Ah, hyung!" Jimin shouted, running down the corridor. Both Jin and Yoongi looked up to see the younger boy hurtling towards them, jumping next to them on the couch excitedly.

"Joonie-hyung told me that Mamamoo is hosting a private party after the awards ceremony tonight, we should go!" Jimin grinned widely, grabbing Jin's bicep and tugging on it.

"Aish, calm down, I'm eating," Jin responded with a tight-lipped smile, slapping the younger member on the thigh in an attempt to stop him from hopping up and down on the spot.

Yoongi gave Jimin a disappointed look, "And stop yelling. Why on earth are you so energetic?" Yoongi asked him, raising a brow in suspicion at the younger member.

"Uhhh, because it's a Mamamoo party? Doesn't Hobi-hyung like Moonbyul? Maybe he'd be in a better mood if he sees her there," Jimin suggested, bumping Jin's elbow with his own, bobbing his brows up and down. 

Jin gave the younger boy a quirked eyebrow, "They're just friends," he told him, shrugging the younger boy's hands off his arm.

Jimin rolled his eyes, "Well it's still a party, parties are notorious for their good vibes, hyung."

"Fine, whatever. But don't be surprised if he says he doesn't wanna go," Jin huffed, returning his attention back to his noodles.

Jimin patted his head and grinned, "I'll figure something out."

Yoongi rolled his eyes, leaving the room to find a more quiet space.

Taehyung and Jimin shared a knowing look with each other before bounding into Hoseok's apartment. Jimin's plan was to utilize Taehyung's signature puppy eyes to get his hyung to agree to go to the party with them which shouldn't be too hard seeing that Hoseok had a soft spot for Taehyung.

"Hyung! Where are you?" Taehyung shouted out as soon as he crossed the threshold.

"In here!" Hoseok yelled in response, his voice coming from his studio.

The young pair wandered through the apartment and found that the door to his studio was open. They both spotted their older friend leaning back in his chair, his attention focused on his computer screen.

"I thought we were meeting up at work, what's up?" Hoseok asked them, turning his chair to face them both.

Jimin pushed Taehyung forward, urging him to tell Hoseok the news instead of himself. Taehyung looked back at Jimin with a betrayed look in his eyes before turning back to his hyung, clearing his throat. "Um, so the Mamamoo girls are hosting a party tonight after the awards ceremony, we're all going..."

Hoseok looked at them expectantly, "Okay, and?" he questioned, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Uh, well... Do you want to go with us? It could be fun," Taehyung asked him nervously, his hands fidgeting behind his back. "It's supposed to be idols only, so no managers and whatever. We could let loose, y'know?" Taehyung squeaked out, looking to Jimin for back-up.

"I don't know, guys..." Hoseok sighed, slumping down into his chair.

Jimin stepped forward, knowing that his plan to use Taehyung's puppy eyes was failing. He quickly threw an arm around Taehyung's shoulder, "Come on, hyung. How about we make a deal?" Jimin suggested, earning a considerate look from his elder.

"Go on..." Hoseok egged on.

Taehyung looked at Jimin with a smirk, "If we win an award tonight, you have to go with us to their party," Jimin said, smiling at the boy sitting in the chair.

Hoseok knew their win was guaranteed, a lot of their wins had been that way for the past few years. They'd worked hard for each and every one of them, their passion and their dedication to their craft garnering fruitful results almost every single time. Hoseok knew they were eager for him to join them at a fun event for the first time in a while so he caved in and said, "Fine. It's a deal."

Taehyung jumped and clapped his hands while hugging Jimin who was cheering loudly. Hoseok smiled at their reactions, chuckling at their outward displays of happiness. "Okay, okay, I'll see you guys at work later," he waved them off, turning his chair back to face his computer.

The pair of them walked out of his studio, bidding their farewells to him. "This is gonna be so much fun, man," Taehyung squealed once he was sure they were out of earshot, throwing a playful punch to Jimin's arm. 

"This is gonna be so great," Jimin grinned, laughing with him and leaving Hoseok's apartment.

"This is not... Going great," Jimin sighed, nursing his glass of champagne. Jin chuckled and nudged Jimin's arm, "What'd I tell you?"

"You told me he wouldn't wanna come but he's here. He's just not being the social butterfly he usually is," Jimin rolled his eyes, turning away from his older friend. 

Jin shrugged, "Eh. Same thing," he said to his younger friend with a victorious grin, gulping down his glass of champagne and placing it on the bar top before leaving to join Jungkook and Yoongi on the dancefloor.

The party was thriving and everyone was enjoying themselves in their respective groups, dancing under the flashing lights, and sharing drinks around their tables on all sides of the room. The music was good too, Jimin noted to himself, nodding his head to the beat. Namjoon, Taehyung, and Hoseok were sitting beside him at the bar, talking amongst each other, discussing their win for album of the year. Jimin looked away from them and spotted the hosts of the party, Mamamoo, on the dancefloor. 

That's where Hoseok would usually be in events like this, dancing in the center of the room like his life depended on it. He usually thrived in this kind of environment, catching everyone's attention and their applause but all he could do right now was nurse the same bottle of beer at the bar.

There was a girl in a long-sleeved silver sequin cocktail dress and she was awkwardly bobbing on the spot at the center of the dancefloor, trying to sway her shoulders to the beat. Jimin hadn't seen her before. Everyone at the party was an idol and being in the industry for as long as he had, he was able to name every person in the room except for her. She stuck out like a sore thumb with her shiny dress and that expression that screamed 'this is not my type of scene, please don't judge me'.

"Who's that?" Jimin said aloud, hoping that at least one of his bandmates could give him an answer.

"Oh, her? That's Hyejin's younger sister," Namjoon said to him loud enough so that he could hear over the throbbing music. 

"How do you know that? Also, you call Hwasa by her real name now?" Jimin snorted, turning to his hyung and finding the older boy's cheeks growing red, even in the darkness that swallowed their side of the room. 

Namjoon stuttered, "What? Uh, I mean Hwasa posted a picture of her on her Instagram page, didn't you see it? You saw it, right?" Namjoon nudged Taehyung's arm. 

"No," Taehyung laughed, "Don't drag me into your embarrassing conversation, hyung."

The older member groaned and told them to shut up, murmuring something about 'All I do is breathe and I get attacked', turning away from them and going back to his drink.

Jimin examined her from across the room, watching how Hwasa, Wheein, and Moonbyul were encasing the young girl in a circle and jumping around her, trying to include her in their dancing festivities. He saw her shy, sheepish smile under the flashing lights of the room and concluded that she looked rather cute. In fact, he saw the similarities between her and her older sister. Their tan skin, dark flowing shoulder-length hair, round faces, and gleaming smiles were practically the same. Though, somehow, she managed to be just a little bit shorter, which he found rather cute.

Taehyung found himself getting dragged away from the bar by the arm, clumsily trying to balance his glass in his hand to prevent it from being spilled, "Yah! What are you doing?" he questioned Jimin, straightening out his clothes.

"Dude, we gotta set Hobi-hyung up with Hwasa's sister!" Jimin leaned into Taehyung, nodding towards the young girl on the dance floor surrounded by the girls of Mamamoo. 

Taehyung raised his brows upon seeing her for the first time, "Oh damn, she's... She's actually pretty cute, bro."

"The plan was to get Hobi-hyung here so he could have fun but he still looks pretty damn miserable, I mean look at him," Jimin huffed, turning his attention back to his older group member. Hoseok sat at the bar with Namjoon by his side and Jimin noticed that Hoseok wasn't really talking at that point, only nodding along to what Namjoon was saying.

"We have to set him up with that girl," Jimin urged. Taehyung was putting the pieces together in his mind and he nodded along to Jimin's plan.

"Okay, um," Taehyung rubbed the back of his neck. "How do we do this?"

"You've got the answer in the palm of your hand, bro," Jimin pointed at Taehyung's drink.

Taehyung slumped his shoulders, "Really, bro?"

Jimin grinned widely and nodded enthusiastically.

"Eonnie, can we go home soon?" you shouted to your sister over the music, somehow managing to step on your own feet, making you wince at your own clumsiness. "I love this dress and all but it is... incredibly uncomfortable," you continued to rant to her.

"You still haven't talked to J-Hope. That was your plan, wasn't it?" Hwasa bumped her eyebrows up and down at you suggestively, a smirk adorning her face.

Your cheeks grew hot and you found yourself hitting her gently on the arm. "Oh my god, stop!" you hissed at her, mortified that she was talking about it in such an open space. "I've been watching him all night but he doesn't look like he's in the mood and I don't wanna burden him... Also, I just really wanna go home and eat my ramen."

Hwasa smiled and rolled her eyes at you, taking your hands into hers. "Just ten more minutes, and then we can go back home and eat all the ramen and chocolates we want. Please?" she begged you, putting on her puppy eyes and jutting out her bottom lip. You groaned at her desperate display and caved in, "Okay, fine! Just ten more minutes."

She smiled widely, bringing you in for a hug. "It's a party, sis! Come on, we're celebrating!" Hwasa cheered, grabbing your hand and raising it to bring you into a spin. You laughed with joy, letting her spin you around.

In a blur, you felt someone bump into you and you quickly felt something wet spreading all over your front. With a gasp, you turned to see Kim Taehyung looking down at you with an apologetic look. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry!" he yelled, taking your hands into his. They were big and warm, completely encompassing yours with his sheer size.

You saw Yoongi and Jin coming from behind Taehyung, "Nice one, idiot," Jin snorted, punching Taehyung on the arm. "Shut up," he told his older friend, shrugging him off.

"It's fine, it's fine," you told him. "My sister–"

"Your sister's fine, come with me, let me clean you up," he told you apologetically, pleading to you with his eyes. "Please?"

You felt a hitch in your throat, his expression managing to take your breath away so easily. It was no wonder everyone described him as charming, it was all in his nature.

"O-okay," you said to him, allowing him to guide you away from the dancefloor. You looked back at your sister but she was engaged in a conversation with Solar and Jimin. Your sister was right there and... this was her party anyway so you should be fine.

"Again, I'm so sorry about that," Taehyung said to you once you'd both reached the bar. He was grabbing a bunch of napkins from the bar top and you saw him visibly contemplate whether or not to pat your front down. You took the napkins out of his hand with a sheepish smile, cleaning the front of your dress down on your own. 

You laughed nervously, "It's okay, really, I wasn't watching where I was going."

"Stop apologizing, it was my fault for being a klutz," he chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck with a rueful look on his face. He stilled, patting his back pocket, retrieving his phone. "Oh– I really have to take this, do you mind?" he asked you, gesturing to his phone.

"Yeah, of course!" you stuttered, waving him off.

"Hyung," Taehyung looked behind you, "Can you keep her some company? I'll be back in a minute," he gently nudged you backward. You felt the backs of your thighs bumping into someone's knees, your heart beating wildly in your chest.

"Hm, what?" you heard a familiar voice behind you say aloud.

"Thanks!" Taehyung grinned, turning on his heel and leaving you with his friend.

You gasped upon feeling a hand on your hip, turning around and choking upon seeing who Taehyung had pushed you into. "Careful there," he said to you, his hand dropping from your hip.

It was– "J-Hope," you murmured, eyes wide at the mere proximity to him. Three things popped into your mind upon seeing him up close for the first time. 

1. Big. Broad. Man... Just, man

2. Hot... Like, holy shit, hot. Does his hair feel as soft as it looks? And why the hell does he smell so good?

3. J-Hope

"You're J-Hope," you said to him stupidly, pointing right at his face. 

He looked at you with a quirked brow, "Um, yes?"

You cringed at yourself and stepped away from him, "Oh my god, I'm so sorry, that was really dumb of me. I'm just... I'm gonna leave you alone now," you told him regretfully, internally punching yourself for being so embarrassing to the one guy that you wanted to impress tonight. You collected a pile of napkins from the bar top and bowed to him, attempting to go back to your sister on the dancefloor.

He looked at you from head to toe, your curled dark hair sweeping against your shoulders, silver sequin dress reflecting all the colorful lights from around the room almost blinding him. He noticed how you looked so out of your element, the nervous look on your face, and your fidgeting hands catching his attention. When you turned away from him, his heart jumped in his chest, his instincts telling him to reach out to you.

Looking back, you saw that his arm was extended towards you, his hand wrapped around your wrist. The contact alone was enough to make you sweat.

"Don't worry about it. Take a seat, Taehyung should be back soon," he gave you a kind smile, letting go of your wrist. 

You let out a sigh of relief, but you were still reeling from your humiliating display from just moments ago. "A-are you sure? I can wait somewhere else if you want," you asked him unsurely, slowly stepping backward. 

Under the flashing lights, you could see his chest rumbling with a chuckle, "Come with me," he told you, hopping out of his stool. He took your hand in his and began to weave you through the crowd, earning a cluster of looks along the way. You felt your body begin to grow hotter the longer he had your hand in his, taking you through the masses and to the balcony. He slid the door open and a cool, relieving breeze washed over your bare legs. He gestured for you to step out first. With a surprised look on your face, you stepped past his open arm and out onto the balcony. 

You heard the door slide close behind you and you felt him take a stand beside you. Below you, the city was spread out in a beautiful exhibit of concrete jungles entwined with vines of brilliant lights. Looking up at him, you saw how it illuminated his features and the forlorn look on his face. You quickly looked away, not wanting to be caught staring and suffering from even more embarrassment.

He pulled out his phone and was avidly tapping away, "I hope you don't mind. It's just really noisy and hot in there. I'm texting Tae to let him know that you're out here with me." After a minute, he tucked his phone away into his pocket and leaned against the balcony.

One of your hands was grasping on to the edge of the balcony, the other still occupied with a handful of napkins, an awkward silence falling over the both of you. Finding the words to start a half-way decent conversation with him was proving to be harder than you thought it would be, the potential topics just whizzing past you in your mind.

This was not the kind of circumstance you thought you would meet your crush under. You pictured something more natural like casually bumping into him on the dancefloor or sitting next to him at the bar and ordering the same drink as him. Maybe then you would've been able to strike up a conversation like 'Oh, you like that drink too?' but now, you just couldn't find the words to speak to him.

First off, you were mortified for having acted like some lovesick fan right to his face, and second of all, you had basically been pushed upon him and that was not exactly the natural meeting that you had envisioned. If one thing was for sure, you've never felt like more of a burden than you do right now.

"So–"

"So–"

You both spoke at the same time. You glanced up at him, catching the stunned look on his face and laughing anxiously.

"Are you... enjoying the party?" you asked him quietly, tilting your head up to observe him.

He hummed warmly, "Yeah, it's... It's nice," he told you, looking down at you with a soft smile.

"That's good," you nodded dumbly, scratching the back of your head. You decided to busy yourself by putting the napkins to use, patting the front of your dress and thighs down.

"So," Hoseok asked, "What'd my good friend do to you?"

His bubbly cheeks were pushed up into a kind smile, his brown eyes shining with the lights of the city below him. You noted the way the light breeze swept his dark ash-blond hair along his forehead, making you bite your cheek at how effortlessly handsome he looked in this environment.

"Oh he, uh, spilled his drink on me," you laughed lightheartedly, abandoning the napkins on a nearby table once you'd sufficiently dried yourself.

"That's a shame," Hoseok murmured. "It's a pretty dress. It's a pity he had to go and do that," he eyed the front of your dress where the threads that tied your sequin dress together were stained a light brown. It wasn't very noticeable and you were silently thanking yourself for not wearing something that would've made it more obvious. The idea of wearing a white dress to tonight's event made you shiver in horror.

Under the intensity of his gaze, you looked away, silently praying that your cheeks weren't beet red. "It's my sister's dress," you informed him, "she's busy hosting the party right now."

"Ah, so you're Hwasa's sister?" he asked you, evidently observing your face and piecing the genetic puzzle pieces together, "It's just, you guys look pretty similar."

"Yeah, she's my sister," you hummed, bracing your arms against the balcony.

You cleared your throat, "Uh, congratulations on your win for album of the year, by the way! You must be pretty happy," you told him, sparing him a thumbs up and a shy grin. Really? A thumbs up?

He quietly chuckled, "Thanks. Congratulations to your sister as well. Best female group, that's big."

"Yeah, I'm so proud of them," you silently squealed, your feet lightly hopping on the ground. "They worked so hard," you boasted, "Not to say that the other groups didn't work hard as well, I mean–"

"No, no, I get you," Hoseok interrupted you, giving you a look like he understood what you meant. "I didn't catch your name by the way," he told you, looking at you expectantly.

"Oh," you laughed. "My name's Y/N," you extended a hand to him which he completely encompassed with his own, giving your hand a gentle shake.

"Nice to meet you, Y/N, I'm Hoseok. But I've got a feeling you already knew that," he said to you with a cheeky smile on his face.

You inwardly groaned and crossed your arms over your chest, "I was hoping you'd forget about that," you giggled nervously.

"How could I possibly forget the girl in the silver dress? You must've been so embarrassed," he told you, his tone dripping with sarcasm, his eyes glittering with mischief.

You whined, "Oh my god, please stop," you pleaded, slapping his arm playfully. His chest rumbled with laughter and you leaned down to rest your head against your arms on the balcony.

"I'm just kidding," he grinned widely, nudging his knee against your thigh and softly patting your back with his hand.

With the warmth of his hand on your body, you stilled. Lifting your head to look up at him from your braced position, you saw the way he was looking at you. His half-lidded eyes and the intense look that held them made your breath hitch in your throat. He opened his mouth but then closed it, removing his hand from your back.

He cleared his throat and turned to lean his back against the balcony, turning his attention to the party, observing the thrums of people through the glass door. "Your sister really knows how to throw a party," he said aloud, crossing his arms over his chest. "I hope you were having a good time in there before Tae spilled his drink on you," he chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck.

You straightened yourself up, following his position and leaning your back against the balcony. "A little bit," you told him. "I was actually planning on leaving anyway, I have some delicious packets of ramen and chocolate waiting at home for me. I'd hate to leave them waiting," you joked, rubbing your sequin-covered arms for warmth.

He looked at you and saw the way you shivered from the breeze. He shrugged off his black embroidered blazer, leaving himself in his tight fitted white button-up shirt. He placed his hand on the small of your back to gently push you away from the balcony, wordlessly placing his warm piece of clothing over your shoulders.

Your eyes widened in surprise, "Oh, you don't have to–"

"No, it's okay," he assured you, smiling down at you and shoving his hands into his pockets.

You looked down at your feet, pinching the fabric of his blazer with your hands, shrouding it closer to you. The smell of his cologne invaded your senses, almost taking your breath away. It was nice, and it totally matched him. It was a flowery, oaky scent with hints of some sort of spice that you couldn't quite put your finger on at the moment, his shy smile and well-fitting button-up being far too distracting for your liking. "Thanks," you told him shyly, moving to brush a sliver of hair away from your face.

Hoseok was going to say something to you again until he stilled, bringing his phone out of his pocket. He brought it up to his ear and his brows were knit together in confusion.

"Woah, slow down. Are you okay? Yeah, it's fine. No, really. Just get Jungkook to take you home, take some medicine, and hydrate yourself. Mhm, yup. Yeah, I'll tell her. Okay, I'll see you tomorrow. Bye," he brought his phone down from his ear, ending the call and shoving his phone back into his pocket.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair, "Do you need to go?" you asked him, getting ready to return his blazer.

"No, no. It's just Taehyung. He said he's feeling a little sick so he's gonna go home with Jungkook, he should be fine," he told you, looking down at his feet. 

"Oh, no," you frowned, saddened to hear about Taehyung's sudden illness. It was strange. He didn't seem sick at all when you saw him earlier.

"He also wants me to tell you that he's sorry for spilling his drink on you and that he'll pay to get your dress cleaned," Hoseok added. 

You shook your head, "Tell him not to worry about it, I can clean it at home," you insisted, playing with the hem of your dress. You looked down at your front, examining it. It shouldn't be too hard to clean a sequin dress, right? There was no need for all that fuss.

He smiled at you, "Um, do you wanna come to my place?" he asked you suddenly, causing you to whip your head around to look up at him. Did he really just say what you think he said?

His brows were pushed together, a wince becoming apparent on his face. "N-not like that, of course! I just mean... You look like you could take a break away from this party, and to be honest, so can I," he reiterated. Now it was his turn to be nervous. "I actually don't live that far away and I've got some ramen and chocolate. We could have something to eat and then, uh, come back later if it's... cool with you. You don't have to–"

"I'd love to," you responded, the eagerness evident in your voice. You'd hoped that you didn't sound extremely desperate, not wanting to scare him off but the look on his face assured you that you had nothing to worry about.

His eyes gleamed with relief, his mouth wide open in disbelief. "O-okay, cool. Yeah, cool, um... Let's get out of here," he chuckled, extending his hand out to you. You looked at his hand, bewildered. After pointing at his face and acting like some crazy fan, you hadn't imagined that you'd find yourself in this position. You internally tried to slow down your heart rate, afraid that he might hear just how loud it was even over the booming music. Taking in a deep breath, your hand slipped into his awaiting one.

After texting your sister saying that you were with Hoseok and she'd sent you a series of keyboard smashed texts and emojis, both you and Hoseok found yourselves walking side by side down the street. Since he lived close by, he suggested that you both walked and you agreed, finding the silence in the street to be comforting.

Looking up to the sky, you saw the way the tiny but brilliant lights were twinkling across the wide expanse of the night sky. Hoseok was doing the same thing, though he'd sneak a glance at you and note how ethereal you looked under the light of the moon. When you thought he wasn't looking, you'd do the same thing, looking up at him like he was your world.

"So, what do you do?" Hoseok asked, turning to look at you with a curious expression.

You were brought out of your daze. "I'm a chef," you hummed quietly, kicking your feet in front of you, hands buried in the pockets of his blazer.

"A chef that eats ramen packets, I like it," he teased you, bumping your arm with his elbow. 

"Ramen packets are a cultural staple for a reason, Hoseok," you retorted, returning his bump with your own elbow. He snorted, his head hanging low with a wide grin.

You talked about your job with him, discussing your favorite cuisines and ranting about your least favorite food combinations, he nodded along, listening to you intently. "There's this anime show, 'Shokugeki No Soma', it's about this elite culinary school and one of the main character's loves to experiment with all these different kinds of food and this dude really loves experimenting with squid. It's like a staple failure for him, particularly the peanut butter squid. So one day, I tried to make this grilled squid with a peanut butter sauce and I have to say that it is probably one of the worst things I've ever made," you laughed wholeheartedly, slapping your thigh in jest. He chuckled after hearing your story, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Yeah, squid is a pretty hard ingredient to work with, and I can't imagine peanut butter being the door to it's brightest future," he added, laughing along with you.

You giggled, "Right?"

After sharing a few more stories about hilarious food failures with him, you both ended up at his apartment. It was big, the tall ceilings only managing to emphasize that. You drank in the neutral tones and simplistic design, jaw hanging wide at just how clean and amazing his place looked. As soon as you stepped through the door, the first thing you noticed was the large living room area with floor-to-ceiling windows displaying the lively city below the hills. Beside the living room was the kitchen and on the opposite side of the room was a hallway leading to a bunch of other doors.

The next thing to catch your eye was a large Murakami mural on one of the walls of his living room just behind his sofa, the signature flowers all smiling at you with its boldly colored petals paired with its simple lines and dots. It was undeniably gorgeous and something you kind of expected before you even got there, but that didn't prepare you for its beauty at all.

"Wow," you murmured to yourself, taking it all in with an astonished look on your face. "Make yourself comfortable," Hoseok encouraged you, gesturing towards the sofa in the living room.

Upon sitting down, you quietly groaned, stretching your arms out. The relief on your legs was a true blessing. You'd practically been standing all night, doing your best to satiate your energetic's sisters partying needs though your lack of rhythm and naturally awkward state which must've made you quite the sight on the dancefloor. And you wanted to do it anyway, you were proud of your sister's work and you wanted to show her just how happy you were for her but if you knew you were gonna be standing for so long, you would've tried to figure a way out of there much sooner.

Hoseok returned with two bottles of water in his hands, passing one to you. "What kind of ramen do you like?" he asked you, taking a sip from his water.

"I'm gonna say pork," you nodded to him, taking a gulp from your water bottle.

He snickered, "Pork, huh? A girl after my own heart," he grinned, putting his bottle down on the coffee table in front of the sofa. You quickly stopped yourself from screaming into your hands at his playful words, was this boy ever gonna stop being so charming? You were going to be in trouble soon if you didn't find something to busy yourself with.

"May I raid your kitchen?" you asked him, a brazen look in your eyes. 

He laughed and gestured for you to follow him to the kitchen, which you quickly did. Once you stepped into it, you weren't surprised to find that it was just like the rest of his apartment. It was big, tall, clean, embracing the neutral tones. It was almost twice the size of yours and Hwasa's kitchen. Shrugging off his blazer and hanging it on the back of the kitchen counter stool, you watched as he opened one of his tall cupboards, stepping on his tippy toes to reach for the ramen at the top shelf. "What– Why is the ramen all the way at the top?" you asked him, mouth hanging open in shock. "That's so height-ist of you."

"No, it's because Jimin keeps coming here and eating all of it before I even get to open the packaging," Hoseok snickered, placing two packets of pork flavored ramen on the kitchen island.

You hummed quietly to yourself, "Still sounds height-ist to me."

He smirked to himself, picking a medium-sized pot from the pot rack above the kitchen island. "So what do you put with your ramen noodles?" you asked him, leaning your arms on the countertop, propping your chin up in the palm of your hand.

"What do you mean?" he asked you, breaking the noodles out of their packets and placing them in the pot.

Your brows were scrunched in confusion, "What do you mean what do I mean? You put additional ingredients in your ramen, right?" you asked him, looking at him expectantly.

Hoseok shrugged carelessly, filling the pot with water. "Hoseok, please say sike," you pleaded with him but he continued to go about his business, not bothering to answer your question.

"Oh my god– Permission to raid your refrigerator?" you asked him, already hopping out of your seat. 

"Permission granted," Hoseok bowed to you jokingly. "Man, I should've known that letting a chef into my kitchen was gonna make me feel inadequate in the cooking department," he snorted, placing the pot onto the stove and igniting the flames.

"Don't think about it like that, you gotta be more positive!" you suggested cheerfully. "Think of it as though you're learning something new and exciting and life-changing," you grinned at him, opening the refrigerator. He looked at you with perplexity but agreed nonetheless, watching you rummage through his fridge. He was skeptical. At the party, he noted that you really seemed out of your element but as soon as you'd stepped into his kitchen, he watched as you quickly evolved from your timid, polite self to the confident, polite chef that you were right now.

"Aha!" you grinned triumphantly. Spotting the ingredients you wanted in the fridge, you went back and forth taking them out of their compartments and placing them on to the countertop.

Hoseok watched on with an amused expression, leaning back against the bench with his arms crossed over his chest, observing how you meticulously laid the ingredients out neatly in front of you. The bottle of soy sauce, mung bean sprouts, the wrapped package labeled 'pork belly', carrots, scallions, eggs, and capsicums looked extremely inviting to you. You glanced at Hoseok to gauge his reaction which was a mixture of impressed and humored.

"Salt and pepper?" you asked him, bringing him out of his daze. "The what? Oh, salt and pepper? Um," he opened the cupboard and summoned the salt and pepper grinders, placing them next to your neatly laid out rows of ingredients. 

"Oh, wait," you said to him, biting your lip nervously. "Uh, can you roll my sleeves up for me? I think my hand is sticky from the soy sauce," you asked him shyly, extending your arms out to him.

He smiled and wordlessly reached his hands out, the tips of his fingers softly working to neatly fold your sleeves. You held your breath while he worked on the fabric, his warm fingers brushing over your forearms which was definitely making the neurons in your system spontaneously combust.

"Okay, let's get to work," you smirked at him, eagerly anticipating the awaiting cooking session. "Let's get to work," Hoseok echoed your words with a smile, fetching some aprons from a nearby drawer. He pulled out his phone and started playing some music as the two of you got to work.

Cooking with him was fun, you thought to yourself. He showed off his impressive knife collection which made your jaw drop. They looked custom made and... really sharp, which made you squeal on the inside. A good, sharp knife set was enough to make any good chef drop to their knees and swoon. 

After he put the eggs in a separate pot and began boiling them, he washed the vegetables and watched how you diced and sliced away at the ingredients with ease, the knife dragging through the flesh of the vegetables like butter. As you went along, you explained to him why you chose this ingredient and that ingredient, continuing to guide your knife along the face of the chopping board.

You let him take over, handing him the knife. His hand glided over yours, taking the handle from beneath your palm, the contact causing your heart to skip a beat. You placed the cut of pork belly on the chopping board and suggested he trim off the excess fat and cut the pork into neat strips. He took your suggestion and followed through beautifully. Watching him work attentively with food was something you could get used to.

While he cut the pork, you took a turn at the eggs and the noodles. You strained the water into a bowl and quickly mixed in the seasoning packets and a few dashes of the soy sauce, leaving the noodles in the strainer. It took you less than a minute to peel both the eggs, gently pressing them and getting that gut feeling that they were cooked just right. 

Hoseok took the initiative to put the pork cutlet slices into a frying pan. He caught you looking at him and he gave you a proud smile, turning his attention back to the slices, flipping them over with his chopsticks. You bit your cheek and put your focus towards cutting the eggs in half, preparing them for presentation.

With a ladle, you evenly divided the soup mixture into two awaiting bowls, gently placing the noodles into the broth.

Atop the noodles, you placed the julienned carrots and capsicums, scallion slices, and mung bean sprouts. Hoseok warned you that he was coming up from behind you with the frying pan and he did you the courtesy of layering a couple of slices of the pork belly on one side of each of the noodle bowls. You placed the egg halves on the opposite side of the bowl and grabbed the salt and pepper grinders, speedily cracking the seasonings over the completed dish.

"Voila!" you cheered, handing him a clean pair of chopsticks. "God, I've been craving this all night," you murmured, tucking into your food with fervor.

Hoseok looked at the bowls in awe, a low whistle escaping his lips, "I had this in my kitchen the whole time?" he picked up the chopsticks, sliding his bowl closer to him.

He collected the sliced vegetables and the noodles between the utensils, bringing it to his mouth, closely followed by a slice of the pork belly and a portion of the soft-boiled egg. His eyes closed and he moaned at the flavors that developed in his mouth. The soft texture of the noodles paired with the sweet, fresh crunch of the vegetables was enough to make his knees weak. The pork and the egg complimented the dish perfectly.

While he ate, Hoseok was quietly watching you from the corner of his eye, slurping his noodles in silence. He saw the way you visibly savored each and every bite of your food, finding himself entranced with the way you licked your lips to collect the delicious dew that was the noodle broth. You glanced his way, smiling with strands of noodles trapped between your lips when you caught him looking at you. 

He chuckled at your humorous display, shaking his head at you and finishing off the remainder of his meal.

Hoseok admittedly felt a little foreign in the kitchen at first. He hadn't cooked a proper meal like that in a while. Since his ex preferred to order in or go to a restaurant, his kitchen had basically lost its purpose over the course of his relationship with her and consequentially, after the relationship. He'd gotten so used to just cooking ready-made meals or ordering food that he'd forgotten how good it felt to actually make something so fulfilling.

"Well, damn," he said to you, patting his stomach with a satisfied look on his face. "That was probably the best home-cooked ramen I've ever had," he confessed, earning him the sight of your blushed cheeks which he secretly relished. "But don't tell my mom I said that, she might kill me," he added.

"I promise," you assured him with a lighthearted giggle. "I could probably show you how to make the noodles from scratch, that's what I usually do if I have the time, otherwise I just use ramen packets."

Color him impressed. He looked at you with a wide grin and he was flushed at the prospect of seeing you again in the future, no matter the context. "If you teach me how to make noodles, I think it's only fair I give you something in return."

Your cheeks turned red, "Maybe you could teach me how to dance. Unlike my sister, I was born without rhythm," you laughed, pressing your hands to your face to try and hide the redness.

He struggled to suppress his smiling, his cheeks beginning to ache. "It's a deal."

The pair of you collected the dishes and you helped him to clean up the kitchen. As you wiped down the countertops and discarded the scraps, he washed the dishes and placed them on the drying rack. 

When you were both finished, you removed the apron and let out a sigh of relief. He eyed you curiously and asked, "Do you want a change of clothes? I can grab something more comfortable if you'd like."

"Ah, I think I've imposed on you enough–" you began to say before he raised his hand. 

"Just say yes," he smiled down at you kindly, waiting for your response.

"Y... Yes," you finally said to him, fidgeting with your hands.

Your feet silently padded against the floor, following him as he turned down the corridor. When he stepped into what you assumed was his room, you waited patiently at the door for him. He returned with a sweatshirt in one hand and sweatpants in the other, he pushed the clothes into your hands and he showed you where the bathroom was.

"W-wait!" you called out to him before he left. He turned around, looking at you expectantly.

"My, uh," your murmured, "Dress... Can you unzip it for me?"

Hoseok paused and he went to say something but thought against it, speechlessly returning to the bathroom door where you were waiting. You turned around for him and moved your hair away from your neck, exposing the tab to the zipper. You felt his warm breath fan out against your skin, undoubtedly making you shiver in his wake. You were silently hoping that he didn't see.

Behind you, you could hear him exhale a shaky breath as he gripped the tab and slowly pulled it down. As he pulled, the fabric spread over the width of your back, revealing your soft, tan skin to him. He let go of the zipper once it'd reached the small of your back, quickly looking up to the ceiling to avoid your gaze. 

Turning around, you saw him looking away from you which made you snort in laughter. Deliberately trying to fluster him wasn't your intention but you'd do it again if it meant you got to see him like this again. You gently pressed your hand against his chest so he was out of the way of the door. You closed it in front of his face and tried your best to suppress your giggles.

On the other side of the door, Hoseok was yet to remove his gaze from the ceiling. He felt trapped in this position, the only thing he could feel was the remaining warmth of your hand on his chest. He had not been in such an intimate position since... Her.

This wasn't the time to be thinking about her.

He shook himself out of his paralysis, moving swiftly to a more appropriate location. He didn't want to imagine the look on your face if you'd open the door to find him still standing outside waiting for you.

Hoseok waited patiently on the sofa, fiddling with the remote and turning on his Netflix.

Wow. If the ramen wasn't suggestive enough, then the Netflix one was gonna be the nail to his unintentionally suggestive coffin. Maybe he should change it to YouTube, he thought to himself before you stepped out of the shadows of the corridor.

As soon as he saw you, his breath hitched in his throat. The black sweatshirt he had lent to you was far too big, almost dwarfing your small form entirely. It ended just above your knees and you'd rolled the sleeves up to your wrists. The cuffs of his grey sweatpants were also rolled up, wrapped thickly against your shins. On the one hand, you felt that you looked a little silly but you were thankful for the drastic change in comfort. On the other hand, the only word on Hoseok's mind upon seeing his clothes on you was 'adorable'.

"Thanks for this," you quipped, spreading your arms out and doing a spin for him. Hoseok smirked and quietly laughed at your display, running a hand through his hair.

He cleared his throat and motioned you over to the sofa, "Does the chef have any recommendations?" he asked you in jest, looking at you in suspense. You giggled at his mention of 'chef', tucking a hair behind your ear shyly. 

"So ramen was the main course, and for desert... I think maybe a nature documentary is on the menu," you quirked an eyebrow at him, eager for his reaction to your suggestion. He smiled, leaning back into the soft cushioning of his sofa.

"Nature documentary it is," he echoed your words with a soft smirk. You smiled up at him gently, shifting further back and situating yourself into the cushions. He dimmed down the lights and grabbed a neatly folded pile of fluffy blankets from the opposite end of the couch, placing one of the fluffy fabrics over you before wrapping himself in his own blanket.

When the nature series had begun, you were less than a foot away from him, snuggling your warm blanket and animatedly sharing your thoughts on what you thought the best qualities were of each and every animal that came across the screen. He'd turn to look at you every time you started one of your mini speeches, listening intently to what you had to say.

After three episodes, Hoseok had managed to inch closer to you by jumping every time there was a particularly alarming cutscene of some predator in their natural habitat. It wasn't on purpose. In fact, he was contemplating changing the show but hearing your stifled giggles at the expense of his masculinity was totally worth it.

Another episode had passed and with his adrenaline coursing through his veins, anticipating the next frightening cutscene, Hoseok was nowhere near being sleepy but you had other ideas. You had unexpectedly slumped your head against his shoulder, softly snoring away. He almost jumped when you'd made contact, his survival instincts kicking in once a snake had appeared on the screen. 

He contemplated waking you up but decided against it, softening at the sight of how peaceful you looked. His head tilted to get a better look at your face, his eyes roving over each light freckle gracing your nose and cheeks, their parallel shapes being burned into his memory. The lights from the television screen danced across your sleeping form, the loose strands of hair on your face casting shadows upon your skin. You shifted in your sleep, subconsciously wetting your pouty lips before returning to your motionless state. He was amazed that the booming sound effects from the documentary went by you completely unfazed.

Hoseok took this opportunity to sweep back a strand of your hair, tucking it behind your ear. He hadn't done something like that in a while and he was sure that the simple action alone had just discombobulated everything inside his chest. It wasn't because he was in such an intimate space with just some girl, it was because he was in an intimate space with you. Granted, you weren't exactly awake so he stopped himself from staring at you any longer, knowing he'd live with the guilt of being some sort of pervert when his whole purpose of the night was to be a gentleman.

Resist the urge, damn it!

He couldn't exactly help himself though. Over the short course of the night, you had managed to make an impact on him. You'd been thrust upon him so abruptly after Taehyung had spilled his drink on you, and though the scale of the action was so small, it had felt so life-changing. So far you'd displayed your talent for cooking, your love for nature and you'd proved to him that you could match his wit when you were in a comfortable space.

Plus she's the Hwasa's sister, Hoseok thought to himself, she's already used to the lifestyle of being in the proximity of an idol. That is definitely a plus.

He decided that when morning comes, he would ask if you would like to join him for coffee or lunch, excited at the prospect of getting to see you again in the future.

Silently grabbing the remote beside him, he changed the program to something more sleep-friendly. Hoseok flipped through the suggestions and finally decided to change it to Frozen. He clicked on it and nodded off to sleep with a kind, talented, pretty girl on his shoulder. Hoseok felt like he was on top of the world.

You woke up to a loud pinging noise, squinting at the white lights that attacked your vision when you'd fully gained your consciousness. You'd quickly come to realize that you were not in your own room. In fact, the reason for that uncomfortable ache in your neck was because you'd been using Hoseok's thigh as a pillow. With widened eyes, you suddenly felt the weight of his arm on your side, his hand resting comfortably on your waist. 

He looked so tranquil in his sleep, his mouth slightly agape and quiet snores escaping in sync with the rise and fall of his chest. You couldn't believe that you'd fallen asleep on him. He was still in his clothes from the night before, his button-up and black slacks creased all the way to hell, which meant he probably felt too awkward to try and shift you off of him and stayed there so he wouldn't wake you.

Gosh, I'm such an idiot, you groaned to yourself, lifting your head off of his lap. The source of the ping was coming from a phone on the coffee table in front of the sofa. When you picked it up you realized that while it was the same model, it was definitely not your phone. You were about to put it back down until the screen flashed back to life, revealing a notification that made your heart stop.

Calendar: 10 Month Anniversary with Babygirl Moon. Would you like to share?

Holy shit. Jung Hoseok has a girlfriend?

You were mortified beyond belief. You'd just fallen asleep on top of some girl's boyfriend. To make matters worse, his lock screen image was of himself but at the bottom of the image, you could clearly see him holding someone's smaller, feminine hand. If you were in that person's position, you definitely would've been pissed to find how close you and Hoseok had become over the course of the night. But, surely Hoseok would've told you if he was in a relationship... Right? You should've at least spotted some of the signs but there were no physical indications anywhere in the apartment. Where were the spare slippers at the front door? Where was the spare toothbrush in the bathroom? Where was the feminine touch?

The lack of signs didn't exactly eliminate the idea that he had a whole ass girlfriend out there just vibing. That girl was probably 100% oblivious to the fact that some practical stranger was trying to cozy up to her boyfriend, being all intimate and flirtatious with him. The thought of it alone made you cringe with guilt. He was just being a gentleman the whole night. Did he feel sorry for you because you'd humiliated yourself when you saw him for the first time? That must've been it...

Trying to withhold the tears that were threatening to spill over, you moved quietly to avoid waking him up. Moving silently around the apartment, you collected your belongings. The last thing to do was grab your dress which you'd left neatly folded in the bathroom. When you got there, you considered putting it back on so you could take off Hoseok's incredibly comfortable clothes but you'd never be able to zip the dress up on your own.

You didn't want to wake him up to do it for you, no, you wanted to leave without a trace. It was embarrassing for you to think that you could've had something special with him when it was now clear that he had something special with someone else.

Looking at yourself in the mirror, you saw just how idiotic you looked. There were dried dribble marks on the corners of your mouth and one of the tails of your winged liner was smudged away from sleep. Your hair was neat for the most part, save for the back part which had hair sticking out in every direction. Gosh, you didn't know what you would have done if he'd woken up first to see you like this. Quickly cleaning yourself up with the help of some water and the grace of God, you determined that you looked semi-presentable.

You sent a text to Hwasa to pick you up at Hoseok's apartment, in return you received an excess of all kinds of emojis, they appeared to mostly be winky faces and different colored hearts which helped to lift your spirits a little bit. The only thing to do now was to get ready to escape this nightmare you'd found yourself in. You couldn't bear to be there a second longer. The longer you thought about it, the more it made your heart sink. You could've sworn that you felt a connection with him but after knowing he had a girlfriend, you saw your memories of the previous night through a different lens.

Maybe he was just doing everything for you out of kindness, you could see now that you were just some obligation for him.

Shaking away the tear-jerking thoughts, you stepped into the foyer. Pressing your hand to the front door, you struggled to tug your heels back on in silence, dropping your dress and your phone from its weak grip in your underarm, making the items land on the floor with a sharp thwack. 

It seemed that the noise was loud enough to wake up the host, your eyes spotting his fluffy hair emerging over the arm of the sofa. He sat up slightly, reaching out his arms and stretching his neck with a loud yawn. If you weren't so preoccupied, you would've felt compelled to giggle at how cute he looked.

He turned to the source of the noise that woke him up, eyeing you in your awkward position. With one leg raised in the air and one of your fingers tugging on the heel loop of your difficult heels, you just knew you looked silly. As soon as he saw you, he spared you a lazy chuckle and a soft wave of his hand. "Good morning," he said to you, his raspy morning voice sending shivers down your spine. 

"Gosh, what time is it? Do you have somewhere to be? I can take you there if you want–" he rubbed his eyes tiredly, but you decided that you wouldn't let him finish his sentence, his kindness only managing to inadvertently humiliate you further.

"Hoseok, my sister's coming to pick me up," you told him abruptly, lifting your head up high.

He raised his eyebrows at you, surprised at your tone. "Oh, o-okay," he responded lightly, his shoulders drooping a little.

"Thank you for taking care of me last night, I really enjoyed your company. I'll have your clothes cleaned and sent back to you," you pointed at the sweatshirt and sweatpants that he'd lent to you, "And I would like to reimburse you for the food that I ate. I also hope that you and your girlfriend have a wonderful 10 month anniversary," you bowed to him, using all your strength tug on your heel. You bent down and picked up your sequin dress and phone.

"Wait!" Hoseok called out to you, stumbling off of the sofa and tripping up over his own feet, almost smacking his face on the floor. He was trying to absorb all the information that you'd just laid on him, his mind crossing over every detail. Enjoyed his company? Clean and return his clothes? Reimburse him for his food? He couldn't believe it. Before he could speak, he was interrupted by the ping of his phone. He quickly grabbed the device to silence it and his heart sank in his chest upon seeing the calendar reminder flashing on his screen, accentuated by his lock screen image which was of him holding his ex-girlfriend's hand.

He just knew right then and there that you'd seen it. 

I also hope that you and your girlfriend have a wonderful 10 month anniversary.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

"Y/N, this isn't what it looks like!" he implored, rushing to get to his feet but he ended up slipping again, the culprit being the blanket you were sleeping with last night.

You ignored his pleading, giving him one final bow. "Goodbye, Hoseok."

You slipped past his front door, closing it behind you.

"No," he murmured, kicking the blanket away and running to the front door. "No, no, no," he repeated to himself, his heart thumping loudly in his ears. Ripping his door open, he saw the doors to the elevator closing. Running out, he reached it just in time for the barricades to close right in front of his face. He repeatedly pressed the button but to no avail. Looking to the top of the elevator entrance, he saw the numbers above it declining, indicating that you were already descending to the ground floor.

"Shit!" Hoseok said to himself, sprinting for the stairs. He'd hadn't run this fast since the relays at the ISAC's, his lungs burning by the time he'd reached the bottom. He spotted you at the gateway to the apartment complex, sliding into a black car with a saddened look on your face. By the time he'd reached the outside gates, it was too late. He watched pathetically as the car sped away along with you in it.

Hoseok stopped himself from trying to chase after the car down the narrow street, his hands angrily fisting in his hair, the burn of his scalp doing nothing to ebb the thumping in his chest. Right now, the only thing he felt like doing was bang his head against a brick wall. How could he be so dense?

If anything was gonna motivate him to do delete those stupid calendar reminders and those images of him and his ex, watching you drive away was gonna do it. Fixing his mistake was of the utmost paramount right now. 

"Hyung!" Jimin cheered upon seeing Hoseok enter their room.

"Ah, I hope you had fun last night, hyung," Taehyung winked, nudging Jimin with his elbow.

"What?" Hoseok furrowed his brows, looking at the pair of mischievous boys sitting before him in speculation.

Jimin smiled proudly, shuffling on the sofa to make space for Hoseok to sit down between him and Taehyung. "Hyung! We're the ones who set you up with that pretty girl up."

Hoseok sat down between them, surprised at hearing that the events of last night were the result of Jimin and Taehyung's plan.

"Mhm, I spilled my drink on her on purpose then left her with you," Taehyung said, waggling his eyebrows at his hyung. "We heard you left the party with her. What was she like and what'd you guys do? Come on, tell us!" 

Hoseok stayed silent, wringing his hands in his lap. He was happy to know that the boys were trying their best for him but his recent loss was still reeling in his mind, the dismayed expression evident on his face.

"Hyung?" Jimin asked, his tone laced with worry, his gentle eyes roving over his older friend's face. "What's wrong? Did something happen?"

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he sighed and let out a shaky breath. "I had a great time with her, like an amazing time but... I fucked it up because I'm such an idiot."

Taehyung frowned at his disconcerting words. "What happened?"

He explained the events of last night. 

Taking you out to the balcony and having that pleasant conversation with you.

Asking you to come to his place.

Cooking ramen together.

Lending you his clothes, noting how adorable you looked.

Falling asleep together while watching the nature documentary together. Hoseok purposefully left out the part where he changed the program to a Disney movie.

"I don't see what's wrong," Jimin commented, scratching the back of his head. "Yeah, me too," Taehyung added, sharing a confused look.

Hoseok hesitated to tell them what initially went wrong but decided that if he told them, maybe they could offer up a solution to his problem.

"I think you guys know that I've been struggling to get over my relationship with my ex," Hoseok began, clearing his throat. "It's been five months since we've been separated and it's been hard for me to move on from her, y'know? I put a lot of love and energy into my relationship with her so for it to end so suddenly, it hasn't exactly been easy for me to just 'get over it'. Because of that, I haven't had the heart change my lock screen, which is a photo of me holding her hand and I still had a monthly reminder of my anniversary on my phone's calendar," he admitted to them, hanging his head down low.

"When I woke up this morning, she had all of her things and she was getting ready to leave. She told me that she 'hoped I'd have a wonderful 10 month anniversary with my girlfriend'. That's when I knew she saw the anniversary reminder on my phone," he sniffled, swiping his fingers under his eyes to remove the tears that were sliding down his cheeks. "It just really sucks because I had a really good time with her. It was the best I'd felt in a long time and I feel like we had a connection last night but I think she might hate me now. So, yeah, I'm an idiot."

Jimin and Taehyung looked at each other, sharing a look of sorrow and shock.

"I don't know what to do," Hoseok told them, a dejected sigh escaping his lips. He buried his head in his hands, groaning pathetically.

"Hyung, it's gonna be fine," Taehyung rubbed his back reassuringly. 

Jimin hummed quietly, "You should go and find Joonie-hyung. If anyone has some sort of connection with her, it's gotta be him. Dude is so whipped for her big sister it's almost embarrassing."

Hwasa. That's right. Hoseok lifted his head out of his hands, feeling like a light bulb was hovering above his head. He pulled Jimin and Taehyung into a hug, thanking them both for their help.

When he left the room, the pair of them sighed in content, feeling a little closer to their hyung for the first time in a long time. "He'll be fine," Taehyung said to Jimin, bringing his feet up to rest in the smaller boy's lap. "Yeah," Jimin concurred, excited at the prospect of their hyung getting back to his old self. 

As soon as Hoseok opened the door to the living room, he felt Jungkook whizzing right past him, slamming the door shut behind him to barricade himself in Tae and Jimin's room. "Come here you little brat!" Seokjin shouted, chasing after the maknae with a scowl on his face. Ignoring their loud tirade and the sleeping Yoongi on the living room sofa, Hoseok made a beeline to Namjoon's room.

He opened the door quietly and found that his bandmate was having a hushed conversation on the phone. Stepping forward, he could hear him clearly. "Baby, you don't understand! Yes, I'll talk to him... I know you're upset, but you have to hear me out," he heard Namjoon sighing into his phone.

"Is that Hwasa?" Hoseok asked him, not really caring for the nature of his call.

Namjoon turned around and looked at him with a bewildered expression, "What? Dude, how long have you been standing there?" he asked him. 

"Long enough," Hoseok mumbled, stepping forward and snatching the phone out of Namjoon's hands. Before he was able to protest, Hoseok was already turning his back to him, bringing the phone to his ears.

"Ooh, when I see him I'm gonna kill him. You know that, right? I can't believe he would make my sister cry like that. It broke my damn heart seeing that, Joonie."

After hearing that he'd made Y/N cry, Hoseok winced, feeling a tinge of pain flourishing in his chest. Putting her threats to the side, he spoke up. "Hwasa?"

There was a pause. "Is this you, Hoseok?"

"... Yeah."

Upon hearing that it was the subject of her call with Namjoon, she really jumped off. "What the hell is wrong with you, Jung Hoseok? Huh? Why on earth would you take my sister home with you if had a girlfriend? You have a lot of nerve doing that to my sister. When I see you–"

"It was a misunderstanding!"

"Interrupt me again and I'll become your worst nightmare, do you understand me?" Baffled by her dark choice of words, Hoseok was going to respond with a 'Yes' until she cut him off again. "Don't answer that. Now, as I was saying, when I see you again, I'm gonna rip you a new one and choke slam you so hard that your ancestors will feel it."

"Hwasa, I can explain everything."

"She really liked you, you know that right?"

Hoseok choked upon hearing the abrupt news and her usage of the past tense. 'Liked'. "W-well–"

"God, she's baking up a damn storm in there, I feel like the atmosphere is gonna be 20% flour by the time she's done,"

He was confused that she'd add such a strange detail to her argument.

"She bakes when she's sad, Hoseok."

Oh.

"And by the looks of the triple-tiered cakes and the muffins taking over our apartment, it wouldn't take a genius to know that, yeah, she's pretty bummed out."

Hoseok had never felt so bad in his entire life. He was scolding himself internally. If only he just had the strength to just delete those stupid reminders earlier, this all could've been avoided.

"Hwasa, could you send me your address? I'd really like to talk to her in person."

He could hear her scoffing on the other side of the line. "Ha! Yeah, as if I'd do that. You probably just wanna make sure she doesn't blab to the public about your girlfriend. Well, guess what? She's actually a considerate human being so rest assured, you have nothing to worry about."

She had ended the call with him, the monotonous tone filling his ears. "Hello? Hwasa?"

Hoseok cursed, looking at the end call screen on the phone. He looked to Namjoon who'd been watching him the whole time, his arms crossed over his chest.

"Joon, you have to help me," Hoseok pleaded, his whole appearance screaming desperation. Namjoon softened at the sight of him, stepping forward to swing an arm around his shoulder.

"I heard about what happened, I tried to explain it to her but she was too busy ranting about you," Namjoon told him, patting his back comfortingly.

"I messed up big time and I really need to explain myself to her in person. I really like her, man," Hoseok murmured quietly. "I've never felt this way about someone before."

Namjoon sighed, rubbing the back of his neck anxiously. "I'll help you out, don't worry."

Despite his bandmate's encouraging words, Hoseok was worried as hell. He double-checked the apartment number in his note's app. His knuckles rapped against the door and he waited nervously for a few seconds for the door to open, which it did, revealing a shocked Hwasa. She slammed the door in his face and he winced, hanging his head down low.

A few more seconds passed and he could hear her screaming from the other side of the door.

"You gave him my address!? Damn it, Joonie!"

The shouting continued for another minute, Hoseok awkwardly dawdling in the hallway outside her apartment.

Suddenly, the door opened. Hwasa stepped forward, grabbing him by the ear and dragging him inside. Hoseok was about to protest but was cut off by the slam of the door behind him. He only had a second to observe their apartment before Hwasa started hitting him on the arm.

"Yah!" Hoseok cried out, rubbing his arm to soothe the pain. 

"I can't believe you," Hwasa seethed, glaring at him.

Hoseok stuttered, asking her, "I-is she here?" 

"No. Now explain yourself, Jung Hoseok," she demanded of him, crossing her arms over her chest with an enraged look in her eyes.

And so he did. He spent five minutes explaining to her how he genuinely enjoyed his time with her sister, talking about how you saw the evidence of his struggles in getting over his ex-girlfriend, mistakenly believing it to be something that it wasn't. He finished off his explanation, looking at her expectantly.

While she silently to take in all of his information, he took the opportunity to look all around their apartment. It was very homely and warm. The living room, where Hoseok and Hwasa sat, was amazing. He saw the family photos scattered around the walls, the vibrant flowers on the coffee table giving the monotone room a pop of color. Hoseok turned his head to see the kitchen which was littered with baked goods of all kinds. Though the sight of the colorful tiered cakes, muffins, and cupcakes was mouthwatering, knowing the reason behind their creation was crushing his soul. 

"It smells amazing in here." Hoseok quipped in an attempt to fill the silence.

"It's the cinnamon," she murmured, narrowing her eyes at him.

"Okay, fine. I see what the issue was but I see another one here," she told him. "I simply refuse to let my sister be some kind rebound for you."

Hoseok launched out of his seat, "Rebound? Of course, she's not a rebound!" he insisted, his face flushed.

"You must've broken up with that girl recently to still have those calendar reminders on your phone," she rolled her eyes at him. Hoseok sat back down slowly, anxiously running a hand through his hair.

"Actually," he began saying, "We broke up five months ago."

Hwasa's jaw dropped. "FIVE MONTHS!?" she shouted. She took off one of her slippers and threw at him, outraged at his confession. 

"You know that makes it worse, right?" she told him, leaning back in her chair with that disapproving look seemingly stuck on her face.

Hoseok exhaled noisily, burying his head in his hands. "I know how it sounds," he told her. "I really do, I know I was stupid. But Hwasa, please. I just need a second chance."

He looked at her expectantly, his eyes wide and glossy with sadness. She softened at his desperate display, sighing and rubbing her temples. 

"Let me tell you something about my sister, Jung Hoseok. My sister is a kind, sweet, and intelligent woman. She's passionate beyond belief and she'll talk your ear off if you let her. I love her more than anything in the world, do you understand?"

Hoseok nodded rapidly, his soft hair bouncing around his head.

"Okay, good. She's on the roof," Hwasa said to him, keeping a trained eye on him. Hoseok shot out of his chair, bowing to her. "Thank you," he told her earnestly, turning to go to the door but she grabbed him by the shoulder, making him face her. 

Hwasa tugged on his shirt so he was leaning forward enough so her mouth was at height with his ear. "If you do some stupid shit that makes my sister cry again, I will shatter your world. M'kay?" she told him, patting his shoulder softly with a confident smirk. He gulped, standing back to his full height. Even though Hwasa was substantially shorter than him and had the face of an angel, she managed to shake him to the core, effectively making him frightened of her.

"Erm, understood," Hoseok gulped, bowing one last time before stepping out the door.

Hwasa flopped back onto the sofa with a groan, "Ugh, men."

His journey to the roof of the apartment building took longer than he expected. Hoseok opted to take the stairs so he had time to think of how he wanted to word out his apology, wanting it to be nothing short of mind-bending and spectacular, or at least good enough that you'd want to share some more ramen with him in the future.

Meanwhile, you were busy tending to the communal garden, pruning the fruits and vegetables diligently. The sun was beating down on you in all your denim overall glory, your sunhat doing a great job of protecting your face from the harsh rays. You were collecting some ripe vegetables from the garden, brushing the dirt and debris away with your gloved hands, placing them gently into the woven basket next to your feet.

You felt your phone vibrate in your pocket. Taking off your gloves, you took out your phone and saw three notifications. Two of them were texts and the other was from the Weverse app.

[BTS Weverse] j-hope shared a moment with you!

Message from Queen Wheein: Good afternoon babe, did I leave my tweezers in your room yesterday? lemme know asap, thx ^_^

Message from Hyejin-eonnieee: good luck xxx

While your sister's text was quite strange and vague and Wheein's inquiry managing to make you chuckle, your curiosity got the better of you, your thumb opting to tap on the Weverse notification. The app sprung to life and the screen loaded for a second before showing you a picture from Hoseok's story. To your surprise, it was a photo of the ramen you'd both cooked the night before, captioned with a small 'best ramen I've had in a long time' at the top right in bold text.

You couldn't recall seeing him take a photo of the meal the night before, making you scratch your head. What was equally confusing was why he even posted the photo. Was he just trying to rub salt in the wound?

With a scowl, you turned your phone off and went back to the task at hand, shoving your phone back into your pocket.

Picking up a small spool of twine and scissors from your basket, you pulled on the string, cutting it off when it was about the length of your hand. You wrapped the string around the mung bean sprouts, tying it off and pulling the sprouts from the roots leaving you with a neat little bundle.

"Hey," someone spoke up behind you, alarming you. You shrieked and fell back onto your butt, groaning at the suddenness, accidentally knocking over your basket at the same time. "Oh, shit– I'm so sorry, are you okay?" the voice said again, the familiarity making your stomach sink. Suddenly, Hwasa's text made sense.

You pushed back the brim of your sun hat to see Hoseok kneeling beside you, his hand on your back. 

"Oh my god, why– what are you doing here?" you asked him, rushing to take a stand, brushing the dust off of your backside.

Hoseok dropped his hand away from your back, visibly hesitating to speak. "I... Uh, shit," he scrunched his nose, running his hand through his hand. "I wanted to apologize to you," he blurted out.

"Apologize for what? I was the one that was overstepping the boundaries," you told him. "But, it would've been nice, y'know, if you told me that you had a girlfriend," you shrugged, turning your back to him, bending down to place your vegetables back into your basket. 

"Y/N, I don't have a girlfriend," he told you, kneeling back down to help you gather the vegetables. Hoseok realized that they all looked familiar. In the basket were the exact same vegetables you'd both eaten the night before with your ramen noodles. The carrots, capsicum, scallions, and the bundle of mung bean sprouts looking ridiculously tempting. 

You paused your movements, hand hovering over the red capsicum on the ground. "B-but..." you murmured, eyes connecting with his. 

"I know you saw the picture and the anniversary reminder," Hoseok said to you, his hand grabbing hold of the handle of the basket. "And, yes, I did have a girlfriend but we broke up five months ago," he bit his lip, looking slightly abashed. "I've been in a pretty low place ever since the relationship so I haven't exactly had the strength to update a lot of basic things in my life, like my calendar..."

"And your lock screen?" You asked him quietly, looking up at him sympathetically.

"And my lock screen," he added, a sad smile on his face. "It's been rough. I haven't been putting as much effort into my work as I should've been and I could feel myself growing tired with the things that usually made me happy," he said, that little voice in the back of his mind scolding him for sharing more details than he ought to.

"I was a little reluctant to go to that party last night but then I met you and you flipped my world inside out. A-and I don't know if it was you that made things seem brighter or if it was the sparkly dress of yours," he chuckled to himself, "But if it's all the same to you, I'd really, really, like to see you again in the near future. I'm hoping that I'm not the only one that felt that connection last night, but if I am then I completely understand if this is making you uncomfortable and... I'll leave if you want me to–"

"No!" you shouted, grabbing his arm, effectively anchoring him to the spot. "Wait, don't go please, I'm sorry," you apologized to him, dropping your hand from his arm. 

"Sorry for what?" he asked you quietly, his brows knit together. He slowly reached towards you, taking your hand in his. "Don't be sorry. I was the idiot and I can't believe it took me this long to realize that much better things existed in the world," he said to you, his eyes boring into yours.

The words you wanted to say were stuck in your mouth, his intense gaze making your knees weak. And to think that he had a girlfriend this whole time... You couldn't believe that the man you had liked for so long was saying all these breathtaking words. If two things were for sure, it was that Jung Hoseok was single and you were embarrassed yet again for being so quick to your judgment.

"It was wrong of me to be so presumptuous," you bit your lip anxiously. 

A lighthearted scoff escaped his lips, "Trust me, it wasn't. I know what it looked like and I can tell you that I would've done the same thing," he said to you, his thumbs lightly running over your knuckles, his gentle gestures making your heart flutter. His reassurance made you melt into his touch, your head tilting to look up to gaze at him warmingly.

He cleared his throat, "But, um, just for future reference, I would never flirt with another girl if I was in a relationship... Just saying," he grinned widely at your giggles, gripping your hand just a little tighter.

"So that really was flirting," you said to him, eyeing the way his thumb gently caressed the skin on the back of your hand. "I thought I was just imagining that."

"So was I, to be honest," he told you, "But then your sister told me you had a crush on me, it was all the reassurance I needed. It also makes my day, like, a thousand times better," he grinned, his other hand coming up to rub your arm.

Your eyes widened, jaw hanging low. Son of a... "Oh my god," you cringed, grabbing the brim of your sun hat to bring it over your face. "Please just let me die," you groaned pathetically, letting go of his hand and squatting down so he couldn't see you.

You could hear his laughter from above. He knelt down beside you, rubbing your back softly. "If it makes it you feel any better, I think I have a crush on you too."

While it made your heart jump in your chest, you were still upset. "You're just saying that so I don't kill my sister," you frowned, distracting yourself by fidgeting the handle of the woven basket.

"Maybe," he grinned mischievously. 

"I, uh, noticed that the vegetables in this little basket of yours has the same ingredients we used last night," he told you, gesturing to the basket in your hands.

"Yeah, I was gonna wash them and send them to you," you told him, eyes roving over the colorful vegetables in the basket.

He snickered, "Wow, you really weren't kidding when you said you were gonna reimburse me," His hand was still roving in soft circles on your denim-clad back.

"I was gonna do it after the clothes finished drying," you gestured towards the clothing line that was on the opposite side of the large roof. Clipped to the rope were his sweatshirt, sweatpants, and your silver sequin dress.

Hoseok's eyes widened upon spotting the clothes. "Oh, damn," he murmured. "Um, well you can keep them if you want. They look better on you anyway," he smiled down at you, the wind making his hair flutter against his forehead. You stared at him in amazement, his smooth words clenching your heart. 

"I wasn't kidding when I said I'd really like to see you again, by the way," he went back to the subject at hand, chuckling nervously and averting his gaze. 

"I'd like that too," you smiled up at him.

"Oh, thank god," he murmured quietly, looking back at you, his face beaming with joy. He stood up, extending his hand out to you for the taking. He pulled you up and smiled at you, his bubbly cheeks shining from the bright sun. 

"Yah!"

The both of you looked to the entrance of the roof, spotting an angry looking Hwasa.

"Clean up the kitchen, dummy. Those cupcakes are everywhere," she told you with an infuriated tone, hands on her hips, and her foot tapping on the ground.

"You be quiet, you lost your scolding privileges when you told Hoseok that I liked him," you narrowed your eyes at her, letting go of Hoseok's hand to point an accusing finger at your sister.

She rolled her eyes at you, crossing her arms over her chest defensively. "Wha– well, someone had to say it!" she argued.

"Um, no they didn't!" you bit back.

"Clean up your cupcakes or I'm telling dad," Hwasa concluded, turning on her heel and retreating back into the building. You gasped, upset that you didn't have a chance to voice your distaste for her use of the parent card. 

You looked back to Hoseok who had an amused look on his face. "Sorry about that," you apologized to him, looking down at your feet.

"Don't worry about it, I've got an older sister too so I know how it feels... She clowns me whenever she gets the chance," he confessed to you, making you laugh in the process.

"Do you wanna get out of here?" he looked to you with an optimistic look in his eyes. You saw that his fingers by his side were reaching out to you. You smiled to yourself, taking his hand in yours.

"Yeah," you grinned at him, pulling him to the entrance of the building.

His grip on your hand tightened, stepping forward to be by your side. "What does the chef recommend?" he chuckled.

"Hmm, coffee with a side of foolishness," you suggested, doubling over with laughter.

"And maybe some hand-holding for dessert?" he raised his eyebrows at you, looking hopeful as ever.

You hummed thoughtfully, "That can be the main course. For dessert, maybe you can teach me how to dance?"

Hoseok was smiling ear to ear, swinging your hand in tandem with his. "It's a deal."

Fin.

[softboywriting]

Welcome To The Pack | Mendes Triplets Series | Part Four

Summary: You’re a human who has moved in with the Mendes triplets as their newest housemate. You’ll have to learn to navigate life with werewolves, college classes, and your feelings for each guy. [fluff] 

Word Count: 1.5k

|Masterlist In Bio|

"Hey sweetheart," Raul says as he wraps his arm around your shoulders. You're on your way out of your math class that you absolutely hate but are required to take at least one semester of a year for your degree. "Hungry?"

"I had a granola bar in class. So, not really?"

"When's your next class start?"

"An hour. I was going to go to the library."

Raul scoffs. "Nope, you're coming with me to get lunch."

"But I don't have any money."

He stares at you blankly. "I'll pay. I'm not going to make you pay for lunch when it's my idea. What am I? An animal?"

"Well..."

"Ah! Don't even go there." He grins and you can't help but crack a smile that turns into a little laugh. He's literally showing off his prominent fangs as he smiles. The irony. "What? Stop laughing."

"No." You push his lip up and he playfully bites your finger in retaliation. "Wolf boy."

Raul bares his teeth and you giggle. He's obviously not serious like he had been while fighting with Shawn the other day. While he looks terrifying, you aren't scared at the moment. Raul drops his facade and stares at you blankly. "You're weird."

"Nuh uh, you're weird. I'm just standing here, you're showing off your fangs to the world."

"And you're giggling at it!"

You raise your eyebrows and tilt your head a bit. "Would you rather I cry? Or run away?"

"N-no." He stammers. It's strange seeing him a little caught off guard like this. "You're like whiplash. One moment you're scared of us, the next you're giggling. I don't understand you."

You grab his hand and he slides his fingers between yours as if it were completely natural. Your heartbeat picks up a bit, not expecting him to do that. "Maybe you should try harder? I am your newest pack mate after all."

Raul narrows his eyes as if he were going to deny that statement, but he doesn't. He won’t. "Whatever, let's go to lunch."

"My choice?"

"No, mine."

"Well that's not fair."

He tugs you along gently, hand still in yours. "Life's not fair. I'm paying, I pick."

"Fine. Jerk."

"You know it, sweetheart.”

_____________________

Shawn's first hockey game of the season is on Saturday and you're all bundled up, ready to sit in the cold arena for a few hours. Shawn had invited you to go on Monday and you couldn't say no. He was so cute about it, giving you his jersey from last year to wear over your hoodie and everything. He even made you some cookies in sort of hockey stick shape. Honestly the world doesn't deserve him.

"You made it!" Shawn says excitedly as he wraps his arms around you. You’re in the hall outside the locker and storage rooms for the ice rink on campus. Hockey is sort of a big deal at your school. "We're just getting ready, do you wanna see the locker rooms?"

"I think I'll pass."

"Okay, okay, yeah locker rooms are kind of gross." Shawn laughs, he almost sounds nervous though you can’t imagine why he would be. First game jitters most likely. "You wore my jersey I see."

"Mmhmm. It's huge even over my sweatshirt." You pull out the silky jersey material from your chest. "I guess that's good though, wouldn’t want it to squeeze me to death or something."

Shawn smiles. "I love it. Did Raul and Peter come with you?"

"Yeah, they're getting snacks at the concessions. You guys eat too much."

"Fast metabolisms." Shawn pats his padded stomach. "Wolves gotta eat baby."

"Yeah, and they eat everything in sight. Speaking of food, I'm making dinner tonight, so you better be home after the game."

Shawn groans in delight. "I get to have you watch me play and I get dinner? Is it my birthday?"

"It's Saturday." You chuckle, rolling your eyes at his theatrics. "I always make dinner on Saturday, the game is just a bonus."

From the locker rooms a few doors down the hallway you can hear the coach yelling for Shawn.

"I gotta go. I promise I'll be home for dinner. I’m riding back with you guys anyway."

"Good."

Shawn turns to go and you grab his hand. He turns back and you lean up on your tiptoes to kiss his cheek. "What was that?" He asks, touching the place where your lips had been.

"For good luck.” Your heart races and he squeezes your hand, telling you that he can feel it too. “Go, before the coach hunts you down."

Shawn flushes and clears his throat. "Thanks. I'll meet up with you after?”

"Mmmhmm. Good luck!"

____________________

Your team wins the game, even though Shawn kept gawking at you every couple of minutes. As team captain he really should be paying more attention. There were several shots he should have made with ease had he not been totally distracted. You can’t blame him though, he must be thinking about the cheek kiss. You know you were.

Post game you wait with Peter in the entryway to the ice complex. Peter gave you his jean jacket to keep warm even though you have on a hoodie and shawn’s jersey. Raul went to get Shawn's jeep to pick everyone up out front. Shawn had carpooled with one of the other guys on the team so you and the guys could bring his jeep and everyone could ride comfortably.

Shawn walks out of the doors to the rink and he’s got on his sunglasses and a long sleeve blue henley, bag of gear slung over his shoulder. He looks so good, like a professional hockey player coming out to meet fans. He pushes up his sunglasses and smiles, picking up the pace when he sees you and Peter at the doors.

"Did you see that shot I landed from halfway across the ice? It went sailing past their goalie so fast he didn’t stand a chance. I've never done that before." Shawn says excitedly. "I played so well.” He puts his free arm around your shoulders. “I think you're my good luck charm."

"Oh please, I think you were too distracted personally." You say and he raises his eyebrows, leaning back to look down at you. "What? Like I couldn't tell you kept searching for me in the seats? I know you missed that shot that was passed to you because you were looking for me when I moved to get a better view.”

"I just-"

"Shawn! Shawn!" A group of three girls comes running over, giggling and making a lot of noise between them. "You were amazing out there!" “So good!” “I loved the game!”

"Oh, thanks." Shawn says softly, breaking away from you for a moment. "Can I help you ladies?"

"We wanted to see if you were available tonight." One of the girls, a tall blonde, says playfully. "We're hosting a party at our place. Our frat actually."

Shawn looks at the three girls and then over to you and Peter. "I..."

You catch his eye and just sigh, assuming he's not going to be home for dinner now. You were even going to make his favorite, spaghetti and meatballs.

"I have dinner plans."

Your stomach flip flops. He’s going to go home with you and not these girls? Wild.

"Oh...that's lame. You could stop by after. We really want you to come over. You are the captain after all." One girl says with a little pout.

Shawn shakes his head. "I need to rest up." He steps away from the girls and puts his arm around your shoulders. "Thanks for the offer ladies, maybe another time."

Peter looks up from his phone and points to the glass doors. "Raul's here with the car."

"Gotta go," Shawn says, waving and walking you toward the doors.

"You don't have to stay home if you want to go," You say and glance back at the girls who are now talking among themselves. "I can save you some dinner or something."

Shawn presses his nose into your hair as he walks behind you now, arm around your chest. "I promised I'd be home for dinner. I can go to a party whenever. I don't get your spaghetti and meatballs all the time."

"How'd you know I was going to make that?"

"I saw the ingredients on the counter this morning. I realized when you said you were making dinner that was what it was going to be." Shawn opens the back door for you and hot air pours out. Raul's got the heater on high just for you. "I'm staying home."

"Alright, alright." You climb in the back seat and Peter gets in opposite you. He pockets his phone and scoots closer to you, leaning his head on your shoulder. You put your hand in his hair and he sighs contently. "Are you guys ready for dinner?"

Shawn throws his gear in the back before getting settled in the passenger seat and they all answer in a chorus of yes as Raul pulls out onto the street. You smile, feeling so at home with them. Being a part of a pack is pretty damn good.

———–

End Part Four

———-

Thank you for reading! Please reblog if you enjoyed this and reblog to support and encourage myself and fellow writers. Next part coming soon! - A

Custom header per part made by the incredible delicateshawn

*****Note: none of my works should be posted anywhere outside of my linked accounts. I do not give permission to repost with or without credit to my accounts. Please notify me of any reposted fics.*****