#it was late at night too so windows down music up. very pleasant

[no-one-hears-me]

I pray you guys aren't driving in platform boots

[s0ulm8s]

cinnamon, honey, & sage — geto suguru x human!reader

ೃ⁀➷ genre : fluff

*ೃ༄ words: 1.4k

⋆.ೃ࿔*: warnings & a/n : nothing, just fluff, girldad!geto suguru, honestly nothing too crazy or exciting just suguru going soft for a human (lmk if i should make a part two)

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ read more works here ➼ masterlist

geto suguru didn't particularly look forward to having to saunter into the small bakery just a mere ten minute walk from his current residence. no, not because it was unsanitary or even that the food was bad — he simply wished to never interact with the monkeys nearby if he could help it.

they left a stench, one of greed and unworthiness. rotten and disgusting. actively seeking them out was not on his to-do list.

yet nanako and mimiko couldn't let the small place go. they loved it there. when suguru would give the girls a wad of cash and urge them to spend their day in the small city nearby — this place was always their last stop.

despite being branded as a bakery it stayed open late and sold sake, and even though the cute owner that sat behind the counter would giggle and politely refuse to sell the two girls the alcohol — she always gave them an extra pastry and let them spill their teenage gossip to her.

we bought you a scone geto-sama... but we shared it on the way home nanako would admit with a half-guilty grin but you should really try it yourself anyways! the owner is very pretty and i promise it smells nice!

he'd scoff lovingly at this, but the more the pair gushed about the owner and her sweet attitude towards his girls, it had become a recurring thought. and since mimiko had gotten sick, and inevitably passed it on to nanako — he figured the girls deserved some cheering up as they were getting better.

suguru looks up, the neon sign reads magic shop in japanese, lighting up in a pink and purple hue with the words bakery & bar underneath.

the sun was setting now and the bell to the door rings softly, alerting you from the back of the shop to a new customer. though you were open for another hour you weren't expecting many more customers on a week night.

suguru observes the small building, comfortable booths line the wall, and the ceiling to floor windows are littered with hanging plants and vines. lights dim and colorful flood his vision while soft music meets his ears. the atmosphere is nice, calming even and suguru finds himself looking for something to be displeased with. he grunts when he can't find anything.

so far his girls were right, it does smell nice. yet he hasn't seen another person yet, until he hears small padding footsteps come to the front — you must be the sweet owner who gives away free treats.

your face is pleasant and welcoming as you take in his appearance, skin a bit hot as you observe the much taller man. his dark hair is long, half tied up into a bun and the rest cascading over his shoulders. he's wearing a black button up, sleeve rolled up and tucked into casual black slacks that accentuate his figure nicely. and he is handsome. god, is he handsome.

you let the thoughts drift away as his gaze looks a bit apprehensive before slowly approaching the counter.

"hi, welcome in." you greet softly, voice melodic and sweet and he can't help but rejoice a bit that you aren't overly cheery or theatrical. "were you looking for anything specific tonight?"

he finally stops right in front of counter, gaze boring down onto you as he studies you. "yes, actually." he responds, voice low and dreamy as he scans the window with the pastries. "two raspberry muffins, three cinnamon scones, a cheese danish, and a loaf of your homemade bread."

his recitation of the order is precise and memorized, and you can't help but let out a giggle to yourself before commenting, "you must be the protective hermit who looks after mimiko and nanako, yeah?" you ask as he looks at you with a slightly shocked expression. you giggle again, and he leans a bit closer instinctively at the sound. "their words, not mine.. it's geto, right?"

he nods in confirmation, for some reason introducing himself with his full name as you do the same. at your comment he actually lets out a small chuckle, a grin finally finding his face and actually meeting his eyes before he nods, "i suppose that would be me.. i don't find myself out much, i have.. sensitivities." he admits, in the middle of his sentence realizing he hadn't even grimaced at a certain smell yet. no. you smelt nice, inviting even — you smelt of cinnamon, honey, and... what was that?... a hint of sage maybe. not too sweet or overbearing. suguru mentally slapped himself for enjoying it as much as he did. "you knew that just by their order?"

you laugh again as you nod, beginning to grab his items before speaking. "yeah, they've become some of my favorite regulars. they typically order the same things — aside from the homemade bread." you tell him, "you must not have much of a sweet tooth." you observe as he nods in confirmation. "that's okay, i don't really either.."

"yet you run a bakery?" suguru quips, letting out a small laugh as you nod.

"and bar." you correct with a smirk, "i know, i see the irony, too. but baking was something i learned to love from someone who just.. meant a lot to me." you find yourself admitting for reasons unknown. why were you so easily telling this man things about yourself?

he can almost see you inner turmoil, but he can understand your passion — loving something because someone you loved also did. it was slightly heartwarming, and he could feel his past creeping up his throat a bit. he swallows it down.

you clear your throat. "oo, i know! i have a new item i'd like you to try.. it's a taro bun but i make it with a different herbal mix, not too sweet but not too bitter. i think you might like it." you suggest, placing two of the lilac colored buns into his now large packaged box that was decorated in your logo and littered in small doodled flowers.

typically suguru would flinch and disregard anyones assumption at what he might like, yet he found himself gravitating toward you. listening intently, and he even hoped you were right. then he could come back and give you his honest review.

was he seriously searching for a reason to see you again already? tsk. maybe his girls were right, you do seem quite intriguing and magnetic. he can't believe he's allowing himself to think this way about a non-sorcerer.

"speaking of, where have those two been? i haven't seen them the last week or so — i was starting to get worried." you ponder, ringing his total up on your register. typically any pry into his life would annoy him, but your concern seems genuine and leaves him curious.

"ah, mimiko seems to have caught an illness and of course, nanako got it from her." suguru explains, and you're worried gaze finds his and he is quick to reassure you. "they're both already on the mend, don't worry. they talk a lot about this place.. and you.." suguru begrudgingly admits, "i figured this would cheer them up a bit."

your face immediately blushes at the idea that he already knew about you prior. "hmm, that's very sweet of you... here, take some tonyu with you as well. they usually get a few boxes, but they always switch up the flavors." you tell him, and he's only just now realizing how attentive you've been to them while on their own. he finds himself grateful that they were in good hands. you give him four different flavors of the drinks.

you bag all of the items together and you both find yourself a little bit desperate to spend a bit more time in the other's presences. "say, what time does your shop close?" suguru finds himself speaking before his brain can process what he's doing.

you look up at him with big eyes, almost shocked before you stutter out an answer. "i close in about.. uhh.. 13 minutes." you tell him, not realizing how much time had passed. "why do you ask?"

"any chance you'll let a customer in after close to share some sake with?" he asks next, a sweet grin painting his face as you blush wildly. how had a human woo'd him so easily?

"hmm.. only for the handsome stranger i've heard so much about." you hum to yourself as his shoulders bob a bit though his laughter. "go to your girls, i'll have our drink ready when you get back." you smile warmly, and he thanks you.

not even twenty minutes later you see his silhouette approaching, and you go to unlock the door. as you pull it open, you see a small box in his hands and realize he's brought the taro buns with him.

"i figured we could share these, and i could go ahead and give you my honest review, yeah?" he speaks as he steps inside, stopping just in front of you. his tall frame swallowing you as he leans in and you grow bit flustered. you grin. "ready for that drink?"

[yyutsuu]

hi! your imagine was amazing, thank you so much for answering. i hope you don’t mind but may i request a mycroft x reader again but with some angst, where they have a really bad argument? they can break up or reconcile - it’s up to you!

Argument -Mycroft Holmes x GN Reader-

———

!! Angst with comfort !!

Gender Neutral reader

!! TW !! : Argument and smoking/nicotine mentions

Romantic relationship

———

Word count: 1098 words

A/n: (I have returned !!) I chose to have a happy ending, I hope you’re fine with that ! I also have no idea what the argument should be about, so I did not specify it, I hope you also do not mind that

This is serving as such a good distraction from the suffocating air in this plane 😭😭

———

It was a rainy day, both on the inside and out. You are laying on a relaxing and comfortable bed, the one that you and Mycroft shared. Usually, the two of you would be resting together, but last night was contradictive. Mycroft did not return home, he had most likely been staying in his office for the night.

You knew clearly what was the cause of this, during the night before yesterday, the two of you had an argument, not pleasant at all. “I despise you.” His words hurt like a excruciating stab wound, engraved onto your brain, haunting you.

The curtains were not open, but a faint luminescence emits still from them. The silence filling the air is harmonized by the rain, softly tapping at your window. At first, the tapping was simply background music, but now it seemed to become louder and louder, driving you to the brink of insanity as you hid under the warm blanket.

You decide to finally let go of the comforting embrace of your blanket which is as soft as a feather. You begin to sit up against the chilly bed frame. Your eyes are slightly swollen from the tears of last night mixed with the fact how you did not get the recommended amount of sleep, no, way less than that.

You simply sit there, blankly staring down the thin strips of light that had succeeded in escaped the cover of the gloomy curtains. You slowly and painfully recall the recent events, fatigue weighing down on you as you do.

It was presumptively one of the worst fights you’ve ever had with Mycroft, not psychical, but equally painful. You sat on your soft bed, rethinking the whole conversation over and over again, recalling every single tiny detail as if it only happened seconds ago.

By the time you realized you should perhaps head out for a breather, hours had passed since you sat up, the rain had died down. Getting out of bed was not difficult, you were wide awake ages ago. The very moment you step out from your blanket, the icy cold air bites at your skin.

After getting dressed and brushing your teeth you head straight outside, forgetting about breakfast entirely. It wasn’t too early in the morning, you stuff your house keys into your pocket, the sound of steady footsteps arising from your shoes. The air was particularly nice, cool and fresh, just what you needed.

The grass was damp, water droplets still resting on the emerald leaves that sprout from the earthy dirt. Every wave of sound was automatically blocked out by your ears, granting you the calmness you had wished for. The frown painted on your face, at long last, disappeared.

It was late in the evening when you finally returned home. During your stroll you had purchased some delectable food at a befitting bakery and had a cup of warm coffee.

You approach the front door to your and Mycroft’s shared house. By the amount of times you saw the door, you could tell when someone entered after you left. After you left the door, it had been unlocked from the outside and then locked from the inside. You stood there, slowly extending a hand to unlock the door, puzzled at who could and would enter.

It appeared you forgot about him, you had forgotten about Mycroft for a good couple of hours. “Mycroft…” You mutter, your memory finally refreshes as you unconsciously say his name. Your hand movements stop entirely, freezing up on the spot.

Your heart races, you don’t quite know what to do, open the door or stay out for longer? You knew deep down, the argument did not result into hate for Mycroft, you had said some pretty hurtful things too, but you just didn’t know at all what to do to fix the relationship.

You take a deep breath and place the keys into the keyhole, turning them as your ear takes in the sound of a familiar click. With your shaking hands, you turn the door handle and push the door open.

You look around and observe the room, Mycroft was most certainly present in the area, his once shiny shoes sitting near the front door accompanied with the difference in placement of a chair at the dining table proved that. After taking off your shoes and carefully placing them next to the door you walk around.

He was not in any room, not sitting on any furniture, you had searched most rooms. It was until you plopped yourself down on the couch you felt a small breeze graze your skin, it was coming from the sliding glass doors to the balcony along with a faint smell of nicotine.

You approach the balcony doors, brushing the silky curtains to the side, revealing the sight of Mycroft standing on the balcony. His back was turned to you but you could spot the smoke forming from each drag of the cigarette he made. It is without a doubt, you were not happy at all with Mycroft’s actions, he had promised he would avoid smoking a while ago, keeping his promise until now.

You slide open the glass door, Mycroft immediately puts out the cigarette on an ashtray and turns around to face you, as if nothing occurred at all a second ago. As he turns to face you, you can observe and notice that his lips are quite dry, the cigarette he had clearly wasn’t his first in a while. In addition to that there are very visible eye bags, he wasn’t getting enough sleep.

The moment the two of your eyes met, tears spill from Mycroft’s eyes, he had evidently been holding it in for quite a while. He walks towards you and holds you in a tight embrace. “Please, just allow me to do this for a while,” Mycroft whispers. You are caught off guard by this.

After some time you both head inside and make some tea. Eventually, the two of you talk about the matter and came to an agreement. Mycroft had also promised he would try his best to avoid turning to nicotine no matter what happens.

The following night was better than every other one you experienced, the two of you holding each other in an embrace while sleeping peacefully under the familiar warm blanket. The aftertaste of the argument entirely washed away. The both of you finally being able to receive sleep, the rain had begun again, but this time it was in forms of soft and calming taps on the window.

———

-yyutsuu on Tumblr and Wattpad-

!! Please refrain from reposting my work without permission !!

[angyvalentine]

Of healing oils and lost teeth

Summary: “Now you get what is the lesson I taught them.” He shrugged, getting up to reach her. As before, he held her waist in his big hands, somehow draping himself over her “I have no problem in training and sharing military stuff with them. But expecting to share what is really mine, is out of question.” Some domestic fluff with Kratos and his first wife, Lysandra. Years before Ares's oath and Calliope's birth.

Words: 2k+ Pairing: Kratos x Lysandra

A/N: This was indeed the first work I ever wrote in God of War fandom. All started from a fanart I did, theeen... well, words came soon after. Not really my best work but hey, I'm still not used in writing fanfics in English xD (the second one is indeed way longer lmao).

Note: Ajax, Ortho and Anthea are characters you can see/hear of in the comics. Polyandry was pretty common in ancient Sparta, and while historically the husband had to give consent to "share" his wife, in the comic Ajax isn't really aware how much his wife Anthea enjoyed other men's company… :°) and while his comrades chatted about how many times they spent with her, Kratos thought "of HIS Lysandra". Gawd. That's when I actually started to think of him as a "no-share" type. I would have loved to see a bit more about them together…

Note2: "Nardus" is how lavender was called in Ancient Greece. Again, any feedback is very welcome! <3

It was dark outside, when he finally reached their home. Given the warm temperature, all the windows were open – and from the kitchen, he could actually see the soft light from the hearth. Probably Lysandra was finishing preparing the dinner – and no matter how late he could come back home from the training fields, she always waited for him to share a meal together. The smell of roasted pig and wine was a pleasant welcome – as well the view of his wife, after a whole day spent training with his soldiers. She was humming while chopping some vegetables, accompanied by the gurgling of the gravy in the cooking pot. A totally opposite scenario from the atmosphere in the gyms, where the shouts of the instructors and the other soldiers and the clangour of the weapons filled his ears for hours. There, between the walls of their modest home, he could feel his soul relaxing, the raging beast, normally so bloodthirst, calming down. He carefully closed the door, as if he could destroy that bubble of peace if he did too much noise. Lysandra turned around, a quick smile tugged her lips upside. “Welcome back, love.” She said, lifting the plate to let the vegetables fall into the cooking pot.

Love.

A strange endearment for a man who was famous for being one of the cruellest and most violent captains in the whole Sparta. Lysandra was well aware of his infamous fame and she often criticized his brutal methods in war. Where many of his own soldiers were scared to death to even look at him in the eyes (still, they fight each other to have the honour of joining his army), she wasn’t scared at all to let her voice be heard. She always thought his ruthless carnages were disgusting, because come on, couldn’t be there any other way to fight for Sparta? And maybe she was right. But after losing his brother in that fateful night when they were kids, Kratos swore to himself he��d have become the best warrior Sparta would have ever seen. No matter how much blood he would have to shed, no matter how many corpses he’d have step on.

Was that an excuse? Probably. Because he loved the feeling of power he felt whenever his army conquered the target he chose for their campaign. Almost in a sadistic way, he was euphoric when the smell of the blood of his enemies reached his nostrils, and the agony in the voice of his victims was like music for his ears. He swore to serve Sparta, and he was damn good in doing so. No wonders many got surprised when he actually chose the woman that later became his wife – a beast like him could really fall for a woman, ignoring how many of them he had taken to his bed in the past? Yet Lysandra was something different from any other woman, Spartan or not, he met before.

She was his polar opposite. The peaceful calm while he was the rampant fury. With her patience and kindness she represented such an anomaly in Spartan culture, where boys and girls were trained since they were young to fight for the glory of their city. Kratos couldn’t deny his wife was an archer blessed by Artemis herself, and those long legs (those legs that he loved feeling wrapped around his waist-) made her run fast like she had had Hermes’ wings on her ankles. Yet she never showed off her talent, nor she liked to take advantages with it. On contrary, she was always the first to help others instead of using that same time to train by herself. Lysandra never liked violence, and she wasn’t happy at all whenever he left for war campaigns. Even if she never clearly admitted it, he could actually imagine the unnerving waiting she had to bear while she was at home, alone, not knowing when, or if, he’d come back.

Kratos reached for her, placing his hands on her hips and leaving a quick peck on her cheek. Her skin was fresh, as if she bathed short before his arrival, and it was a nice feeling compared to his warm skin. She chuckled, one of her hands raising to gently scratch his jaw while the other was still busy stirring the food with a long wooden spoon. “Dinner is almost ready. The water is still nice, if you want to take a quick bath.” “Maybe later.” He replied in a low voice, not moving his hands and instead looking at his wife “Are you aware that this” he did a slight flick with his chin, pointing at the cooking pot “should be helots’s job?” Lysandra shrugged her shoulders, taking a sip to taste the gravy. “I do not mind doing it myself.” She simply said, hanging the spoon on its hook “I treasure the time I can spend alone with my husband.” At her reply, the warrior didn’t know what to say. He just held her close, deeply breathing in her sweet scent. Her hair smelled like nardus, still damp from the bath, and for a moment he just preferred to lose himself in that embrace. Forgetting the gyms, the training, the soldiers. Just like her, he wanted to enjoy some peaceful time with his wife. “Come on, go take a seat.” She sweetly murmured, caressing the arms that were circling her waist “That belly will not get filled by itself.”

They dined exchanging very few words, choosing to enjoy the mere presence of the other one. It was more… intimate. Something he needed after a long day, gladly skipping the meals in the common mess halls of the barracks. Not to mention that meals prepared by his wife were way better than those served in said mess halls. He was busy chewing the juicy meat when he felt Lysandra’s insistent gaze on him. Looking at her, he noticed she was staring at his right hand. More precisely, his knuckles. For a moment, he hoped she wouldn’t ask anything about it. “… I guess you hit home with that fist?” she asked, raising a eyebrow. “More or less.” He simply replied, biting off some meat “Call it a well taught lesson.” He somehow tried to let the matter drop, avoiding to add any detail. But he knew his wife, when she wanted, could be more stubborn than him. Even if she didn’t actually say anything. “Ortho thought I should be more… willing to share.” He reluctantly added. Lysandra frowned, not understanding what her husband meant. “Combat tactics?” she suggested, sipping some wine from her cup. Kratos stared knowingly at her, giving her some time to get the point. Gods, she really wanted him to admit it. “You know Anthea, right?” She nodded, collecting the dishes from the table and getting up to bring them to the stone sink. “Of course I do. She is pretty good in preparing herbal mixtures and healing oils too.” “Yeah, healing.” He sneered, smirking into his fist “And you know Ajax as well, correct?” “You mean her husband?” Kratos nodded, crossing his arms and looking at his wife, who was still facing the sink. He probably waited too long to add anything, since she turned around to look at him with a perplexed expression on her face. “The fact is, knowingly or not, Ajax shared his wife way more than he would like to admit. And some idiots suggested I should do the same with mine.” He saw her back stiffen, her hands frozen gripping at a dish. “… oh.” She simply said, somehow hesitant to add anything else. “Now you get what is the lesson I taught them.” He shrugged, getting up to reach her. As before, he held her waist in his big hands, gently folding himself over her “I have no problem in training and sharing military stuff with them. But expecting to share what is really mine, is out of question.” She inhaled, closing her eyes and leaning on his shoulder. “This is why you broke his nose.” “Nose? Not at all.” He said, massaging her hips “I left him busy collecting his teeth from the ground. A broken nose can be annoying in fighting, it can be difficult to breath. Missing a couple of teeth? He will learn to chew with his other ones.” “Because saying “I beg to differ, but…”…?” “It would not have had the same… impact.” He sneered at his own pun, laughing when he felt Lysandra hitting his side with an elbow.

** **

He dried his skin with a towel, joining Lysandra in the bedroom after the bath she heartily recommended him to get. He stopped at the doorstep, admiring the woman he proudly called his wife, who way distracted looking outside the window while waiting for him. She was wearing a tunic that looked so… ethereal and pure on her, yet way more daring - by the Gods, he noticed she wasn't wearing anything underneath it - compared to her classical blue and white dress . He could almost see all the details of that trained, yet soft body – a body that he was eager to love and worship, as much as he loved and worshipped the woman that body belonged to. He still remembered how he saw red when Ortho suggested him to emulate Ajax. Just the idea of any other man laying a finger on his wife made his blood boiling. Ortho could consider himself lucky, Kratos’ fist just made him lose a couple of teeth, his skull was still intact. Somehow.

Shrugging his shoulders, he reached the bed and sat on it, the wood creaked under his weight. Lysandra smiled at him, patting on the bedspread to invite him closer to her. He leant toward her to kiss her lips, but his mouth met her fingertips instead. “Lay down.” She said, kneeling on the mattress and patting again on the soft blanket “Someone deserves some pampering tonight.” “Should not it be the opposite instead?” Kratos raised an eyebrow, looking at her, but she shook her head. “As much as I cannot agree with the methods you use to prove your points, I cannot deny I am glad you will not follow Ajax’s example.” She explained, leaning toward her nightstand and getting a little jar “And I know you think it is ridiculous, but Anthea’s oils are really good for muscular pains.” “We both know why she is so good at preparing oils, Lysandra.” He remarked, yet did as his wife said. He laid down, hands crossed under his cheek and eyes closed.

He felt her sitting on his bottom and, a few seconds later, some drops falling on his back. He could heard her warming the oil on her hands, before actually feeling them on his skin. For minutes, the only sounds he could actually hear were the chirp of the crickets outside, and the squishy movements of Lysandra’s hands on his back. Another thing his wife was damn good in. The gentle night breeze created a nice contrast with her warm fingers, which were busy kneading his muscles in soothing movements. Kratos let her handling his body however she pleased, letting her move his arms on his sides to work better on his back’s muscles. He internally smirked, considering she was maybe the only person alive that could actually tame him like that. Even keeping him under her, something no one would ever dare to imagine.

“Ortho is a idiot.” He mumbled after a while, without opening his eyes “He really has no idea what it means.” “He will learn, sooner or later.” She replied, massaging his neck “Maybe one day he will marry the best woman he could ever find here in Sparta.” Kratos sneered, trying to turn around. He looked at her with a smirk, before moving a hand to gently grab her leg. “He is way too late.” He said, slowly raising to let her sit on the bed, before guiding her to lay on her back “That woman is already taken. He has lost his chance to get the best.” Lysandra just chuckled, knowing well what was waiting for her. Kratos was a man always ready to repay a favour. And in that moment, he was quite eager to repay her.

[snallavanta]

had a dream that i was on a drive with mingyu and he had to stop by his office (guessing this is the hybe building) to get something. anyway, i wait in the car and i was looking through his stuff because i’m nosy and i found a thumb drive labelled 17 is right here and i was like “WOAH? the new comeback album? i’m gonna listen to this rn before mingyu comes back”

so i plug the thumbdrive into the aux and listen to the album and it’s so dang good that i turn the volume up so much that the car starts vibrating a little.

i’m having fun, bopping to fire alone in the passenger seat of the car. it’s late at night so the atmosphere was really peaceful and vibey.

suddenly i see s.coups, vernon and wonwoo coming out of the building. and i get so anxious because what if they see me and ask me what i’m listening to and they’re sooooo gonna have my head when they find out i’m listening to their comeback album before the official release. so i bend down and kind of hide myself so they wouldn’t notice me. they walk really closely to the car and at this point i’m sweating because if they come any closer, they can DEFINITELY hear fire coming from somewhere. but the universe was on my side, they all dispersed in different directions and i managed to escape the wrath of the hiphop unit.

anyway, more people come out—joshua, jeonghan, jun, dino, dk; some of them in pairs while others were alone—and so far no one notices me having my own personal rave in one of the cars.

then the8 and seungkwan comes out. i don’t know whether it was by chance or i was just pushing my luck earlier but they immediately look in my direction. i see them squinting their eyes and at this point, i know it’s too late to try and hide because they’ve already seen me. it would make things even more awkward if i tried pretending like i didn’t see them now.

on the stereo was a new unreleased song playing and i know if they hear this, i will DEFINITELY be dead. there is no bullshitting my way out of this one. as my sweaty fingers try to lower the volume of the music to stop the aggressive pulsing of the car, i see seungkwan walking in my direction (we kind of knew each other so i’m guessing he wanted to come over and just say hi).

the stupid touch screen monitor won’t detect my finger agonisingly pressing the down button and at this point, they’re a good 5 metres away from the car. i can see their faces extra clearly under the streetlight and i DO NOT want to be cussed out by minghao rn because he looks like he’s running on 2 hours of sleep and 5 coffees.

anyway, in a moment of sheer panic, i decided to ditch the stupid volume button and just press pause for now. i can get myself out of this mess somehow. maybe i’ll just say mingyu had it on the aux but i have no idea what song it is.

boo is looking extremely giddy, a huge grin on his face, and he’s practically skipping to the car now, the8 cautiously following behind him. he knocks on my window and i cautiously lower it, giving him a big smile to ignore the fact that the name of the song was behind me in an agonisingly huge font size 72. he’s very excited when he talks to me and we catch up for a bit, minghao kind of minding his own business but giving me a polite smile.

with the both of them sort of in their own world, my hand closest to the stereo turns the whole thing off. better to be safe than sorry. not a minute later, mingyu appears, jogging out of the building with his hair slightly disheveled. he sees me talking to seungkwan and the8 and gives a small wave. beads of sweat are forming on my forehead. the thumbdrive is still plugged in and i most definitely cannot lie my way out of this one because mingyu will see through my bullshit.

for some reason, the three of them didn’t see each other when they were in the building so now they’re having their own personal catch up session outside. not very pleasant to have in the cold weather but an amazing time for me to cover my tracks. i quickly unplug the thumb drive while they’re all distracted, throw it into the glove box where i found it and give mingyu the sincerest “i’m so glad you’re finally back” smile i could muster to hide the redness in my cheeks. probably a result of both the cold and my increased adrenaline.

anyway, i listened to the new album. it was a bop. and i didn’t get caught. win win. dream over

[nightcall99]

Dreams from 3.1.24

Dream 1: I was in AM's car and it's night time. He had driven me home and I was about to leave but for some reason I just stayed seated, looking quite glum. He was trying to make me laugh by making music through the various buttons, knobs and dial controls. Each thing that was pressed, turned etc. made a different sound effect and he was able to effortlessly make the sounds flow together into a cohesive and pleasant-sounding piece of music. It sounded familiar, like a stripped-back version of some song we both knew. It was actually very creative and impressive to use the car as a musical instrument in such a way. Tears kept welling in my eyes but I didn't want him to see so I turned my head away toward the window. I was touched but simultaneously annoyed about him trying to cheer me up, it's like he was trying too hard to be goofy. I felt conflicted about leaving the car, I felt sad. But I needed to leave because it was really late now.

Dream 2: I was at work. I was in the officer corner with my manager, MN, who was being rude to me. He is hardly ever rude so I was taken off guard. He said something to the effect of, 'Don't you know how to do the till balancing? Don't you know how to count the money?'. The way he phrased it made it seem as though he was talking about today, but I didn't think anything had gone amiss. However, he was actually referring to yesterday. Apparently the end-of-day till procedures had not been completed properly since there was a discrepancy in the EFTPOS figures. I had a vague recollection that a student was doing it yesterday, and that they had asked me several times for assistance but I don't think I'd been listening or had given any advice at all. I seemed to have it in my head that they had figured out the issue by themselves but it turns out they hadn’t and had left it uncompleted. I suppose that rightfully, I was now being blamed. I felt really guilty. MN started showing me how it was supposed to be done, as if I was clueless. He was writing down all these bizarre math equations and graphs that were way out of my depth and not in any way related to the simple arithmetic that we usually do on a daily basis, and with calculators at that. I wasn’t really following at all, despite trying. I couldn’t really compute all these weird formulas and diagrams.

Also, HH and JN (previous interns from years ago) had randomly returned and joined in on this particular shift. I could instantly feel that they weren't 'there' anymore. They were smiling but there was nothing behind their smiles. Then they both left after their shift ended, without any hint of sentimentality whatsoever. Before HH left, she told me there was a script for herself that she was awaiting the balance for. I think we owed her a tube of cream since we were short and it was going to arrive in the delivery tomorrow. I said, 'Do you want me to message you tomorrow when it arrives, so you can come and grab it?' and she said 'No, I'll pop in a couple of weeks time'.

[nothingofthis]

Demon of Coincidence

The spring morning, still breathing the echoes of winter freshness, began unfriendly and overcast. The mood was down in the dumps — Monday didn't promise anything good, as it usually goes.

A few minutes for breakfast, a few more for casually glancing through the news feed. There, complete strangers to me were telling undoubtedly unimportant stories, showing completely uninteresting photos, and sharing music that I had no desire to hear.

Seemingly, not much time had passed, but it was already a quarter to seven on the clock.

Time to go.

Reluctantly, but knowing that I was just a little away from being late for work, I quickly put on my shoes, threw on a gray coat, wrapped myself in a scarf, and left the apartment.

What a dreary day today. The wind carries tiny, sharp, and terribly cold droplets of drizzle from last night's rain. The distance isn't far to walk, but even these few hundred meters don't come easy. How I wish I could be back in the still-warm bed — to snuggle under the soft blanket, sink into the pillow with oblivion, and sweetly surrender to sleep.

At the bus stop, the wind was even stronger. I tucked my neck into the collar of my coat. It immediately reminded me of some TV show or series about the life of animals. In one of the episodes, they talked about turtles that couldn't hide in their shells due to some anatomical feature. Well, at least I could. The main thing was not to pass on my "turtleness" to the bus so that it could reach its destination faster.

Hm. Did I just imagine it? A familiar face among others, like me, hiding their faces and seeking warmth within the layers of clothing.

No. It seems like I remember her. I met her about two months ago. It was a big corporate party with many unfamiliar faces from our company's branches. I think she was from some other region, but I can't recall the city.

Her eyes were sad, just like back then.

That's what I remembered about her.

Don't stare like that. I look up. There are gray clouds up there, thick and shaggy, eager to clash their swirling claws into each other and pour even more rain.

She drops a glove. Well, there you go. Just thought about the coincidence, and it happened. Well, should I pick it up for her? No, she didn't notice she lost it.

I approach. I pick it up. I hand it to her. Trying to smile warmly, though it's not easy, my lips are frozen and uncooperative.

"Oh, thank you! I didn't even notice. I would've left without it."

She's friendly. Shyly smiling, she looks at me and hesitates for a moment.

"Do you recognize me?"

"It seems so. Mm-hmm. You're from the central department, right? From the party, yes?"

"Yes, exactly there. Iris, if I'm not mistaken?"

"Well, you remembered! Very nice. And you... Alex?"

"Close enough. You were close, actually."

"Excuse me."

"Oh no, not at all! It's a joke! You remembered too, see."

We both laughed.

The bus approached the stop. Well, of course, it had to be it. She quickly handed me a business card that appeared from somewhere and rushed into the bus. Before getting in, she turned around and waved her hand. The sadness in her eyes was as if it had never been there.

***

The day went by surprisingly quickly. I hadn't even finished writing the report when it was already dark outside the office window, and my colleagues were gradually starting to leave for home. Saving the document, I hurriedly got dressed and went outside.

I didn't really feel like waiting at the bus stop again, and luckily, there were a few taxis parked right in front of the office. I got into the nearest one.

The taxi driver turned out to be a talkative and pleasant man in his fifties. Although I usually prefer silent rides, this time I was even interested in chatting. It turned out that his daughter works in our company, but in a different part of the city. How many coincidences and chances today.

A couple of turns, a few kilometers on a one-way street, and the taxi driver unexpectedly interrupted our discussion about the weather, cursing what was happening ahead. And there it was – a multi-kilometer traffic jam, which could take several hours to get through.

"Well, what do we do now? Some idiot crashed into another idiot again? Sigh. Okay. We'll figure something out. Just if the dispatcher calls, tell them that you asked me to take a different route, not following the navigator, otherwise they might give me a hard time for that."

I didn't mind, nodded at him through the rearview mirror, and leaned back.

Drifting off, I lost track of time, and the taxi driver's voice pulled me out of my scattered nap.

"We're almost there."

I looked around. We were approaching the bus stop where I had met Iris in the morning.

"Stop there, it's better," I pointed to the turn ahead, which would lead directly to my apartment complex. The taxi driver nodded, pressed on the gas, but the engine roared strangely, then sputtered, and a second later, it died completely.

"Oh, damn it! What kind of tricks are these?" The driver tried several times to start the car, but to no avail. It wouldn't start.

"I'll just walk from here. You better call for assistance, or you'll be stuck here all night," I said, handing him a few bills, telling him to keep the change, and got out of the car. I managed to take a couple of steps when I heard something clinking on the asphalt. What a scatterbrain I am! My apartment keys and the gate remote were lying at my feet. As I bent down to pick up my scattered belongings, I regretted once again that I had put off going to the gym. Well, not even the gym, but at least some jogging in the nearby park. My knees were cracking, creaking, and refusing to bend after a whole day of sitting at the computer.

My thoughts on my physical condition were interrupted by screeching brakes. The only thing I managed to think was, "Well, up until this moment, my knees were fine; now I just need to survive."

My eyes were blinded by the bright headlights.

CRASH!

***

Strange sensation.

It's as if there was no weight in me. As if they left only the tiniest grain of sand, easily picked up even by the gentlest breeze. Deprived me of the ability to feel my body.

My head.

My head!?

Do I have it or not? How can I check when I don't know if I have hands to touch it or eyes to look at myself in the mirror?

Seems like I do have a head after all – inside, everything hurts, squirms, and tries to break free, poking against the walls of my skull.

Darkness? Where am I? In any case, this place is filled with a horrible noise, the source of which is not visible. I try to look down, to see my legs, but there's nothing below. Nothing at all. I mentally laugh, remembering old games where the absence of legs and torso was normal. Is this some kind of dream?

Damn it!

A bright ray of light blinds me, appearing in the surrounding pitch darkness. It amplifies the wriggling and painful pokes against the walls of my skull. It makes me scream at the top of my lungs, the limits of which I cannot even comprehend because I don't understand who or what I am.

I can't turn away. There's no such concept. Only forward. Forward!

CRASH!

The night city from a bird's-eye view. Wait, what!? How!? Where am I!?

I looked around. I looked at my hands – they were covered in blood, at my legs – crushed into an incomprehensible mass of muscles, bones, and scraps of skin. Panic wanted to take over, but it couldn't. I wanted to scream from the pain, as what I saw should have hurt, but I couldn't feel anything.

I was literally hovering in the sky, knowing that I was getting wet from the rain, although I didn't feel it, making the drops cascading down me turn crimson and fall below – on buildings, on people, on the myriad of cars stuck in rush hour traffic.

CRASH!

Veil over my eyes. I try to get rid of it, waving my hands in front of me. Oh, miracle! My hands obey me! They knock off the glasses from my eyes, which I've never worn.

Now I can see everything: I'm at a table. The waiter is looking at me from the side, holding a smartphone to take the order, and right in front of me, smiling and sipping wine from a glass, is Iris! She wears an evening red dress with a deep neckline adorned with a pendant. I felt embarrassed staring so blatantly at the girl's chest, but... the pendant. What's on it?

"Are you going to order something, or should I come back later?" The waiter snapped me out of my thoughts.

"Yes, later. Thank you."

Order something? Just a minute ago, I felt like I was soaring above the city, and before that, I was hit by a car. Although, after all that, a drink might be good.

"You still won't understand what's written there. It's not a human language. But I'm flattered by the attention to my figure."

She smiled even more, revealing two rows of bright, pearly-white teeth.

"What's happening!?"

I looked at my hands, my body, and my legs – everything was intact.

"What are you talking about, Alex?"

"Well, listen. Just a minute ago, I felt like I was soaring above the city. Before that, I was hit by a car, and now I'm sitting here... Um, where are we anyway?"

"Harmony Kitchen restaurant."

A calm and steady voice. The same smile.

"Is this some kind of joke? Did someone spike my drink? Did I imagine all this?"

"Don't get upset. I didn't hit you; it was some clumsy mom rushing to the hospital with her sick child. I just used what was at hand. Do you care whose car bumper broke your bones?"

She snapped her fingers, and the waiter reappeared out of thin air. She placed an order:

"I'll have another glass, please, and my friend wants a whisky."

"With ice?"

"No, thank you."

She snapped her fingers again, and in my hand appeared a glass of whisky.

"Go on, drink it; you'll feel better."

She took a sip from her glass and gestured for a toast.

"No, thanks – I downed it, slammed the glass on the table, and closed my eyes from the all-consuming burning and unpleasant aftertaste. I couldn't stand it. I felt like vomiting, the contents of my stomach rolling up to my throat, and I couldn't hold it back. Okay, here it goes.

What's pouring out of me?

Blood!

I'm pouring out blood!

I tried to scream, but all my words were lost in the salty stream and stomach spasms. Watching me, Iris laughed. With each breath, her laughter grew louder, brighter, more disgusting. Gradually, her voice shifted from feminine to hoarse male, and then it changed entirely into something resembling a roar. I stopped vomiting and stared in astonishment at the same girl who laughed inhumanly, wiping tears, smearing the mascara around her eyes.

"Well... Hahaha. You're such a fool. Hahahaha! We did it. We sealed the deal in blood; your soul is mine now. How funny, Alex. Don't you remember? Today at the office, you signed a document on behalf of the company. Did you read its contents?"

"Eh..."

"That's what I thought. If you had bothered to read it, you'd know that you signed a contract with the Demon of Coincidence. That's me – pleased to serve. Well, what's your response? As required: pleased to meet you, Demon of Coincidence, I'm Alex, ready to give my soul to enter the world of eternal suffering and become a soulless, grey, devoid of feelings, thoughts, consciousness worm. Well? No? Alright, it's just a formality – the signature is the main thing."

Iris, or rather the entity that had taken her form, snapped her fingers again, and a covered dish appeared in front of me.

The creature in front of me lifted the lid – there lay a heart.

"Do you recognize it? Your heart, uh-huh. And in it, your silly little soul. And now it's mine!"

The skin on Iris began to spread, tear, rip, and her body transformed gradually into a monstrous entity, which grabbed the heart in its claws and then threw it into its massive, fang-filled mouth.

CRASH!

I stand on top of a mountain. A spiral road winds down from it. Everything is scorching, everything stinks. There are many fires burning at the foot of the mountain. Thousands of screams fill the air. I lift a rock; I try to hit myself, but the wounds immediately heal on my body.

I shout – there's no sound.

I feel – there's no sensation.

I exist.

I serve.

[writingspacetrash]

The Cosmos Boys - Part 1

1,935 words

Zoe swished the pastel contents of her glass and took a sip. It tasted sugary, with a hint of mango. The bartender had called it a “Palean Double” but she had no idea what that meant. She didn’t keep track of these kinds of things.

Soft synth music filled the bar, conversations in various languages hummed in her ears. Purple light lined the windows looking onto twin suns and the star-speckled sky beyond them. This laid-back, quiet atmosphere was why she loved the Once, why she’d stopped by so often in the past couple of years. You never saw the same person twice, the bartenders never remembered you – it was this pleasant anonymity, the quiet acceptance of the other that she hadn’t felt in many places before. Space travel could get very lonely, but in the Once she wasn’t lonely on her own.

She finished her drink and wanted to ask for a second, when the door opened and four very different people entered. 

Two of them looked somewhat humanoid, the taller one with light blue skin and three very round eyes, the shorter with patches of green scales all over his brown skin. The third seemed to be a cloud of sparkling dust, flowing in and out of the shape of a man. The fourth member of the group was an insecdroid, a sentient robot in the form of a giant centipede, almost slithering over the ground. They were talking hectically, in hushed voices, the taller humanoid gesturing wildly, the insecroid contributing with metallic screeches. Disapproving looks followed them to the bar, where the bartender was polishing a glass as passive-aggressively as he could. 

“You’re gonna have to keep it down, boys,” he said, not assigning them an ancient category of gender, but more in keeping up his general vibe, “or I’ll have Ditty throw you out.” Ditty was a huge, probably sentient rock (no one was really sure), suddenly standing very, very close to the newcomers. The scaly humanoid threw a worried look at Ditty, and the sparkling cloud vanished into thin air and reappeared behind its friends. The taller one seemed unfazed. 

“Sorry Mr Zinda, but we’re the band? The Cosmos Boys?” he said. Zoe tried to swallow a laugh.

“Oh, you,” said the bartender. His eyes wandered over the group. “Didn’t you say you were five people?”

“Yeah, uh, about that… Our fifth member left a week ago, because of…”

“Guarding Duty,” said the shorter humanoid. The taller one snapped his fingers. “Exactly. No idea why he didn’t mention it earlier, but Greg won’t be performing tonight. Or any night for the next year.” The bartender put down the glass and picked up another one to polish.

“So you boys playing tonight or do I cancel it?” 

“That’s the thing,” the tall one said, tapping his foot, “we’ve been looking for a fifth member, preferably a human too, but no one seems to wanna join…” He turned around, his eyes searching the bar. Zoe only thought to hide behind her glass when it was too late. His face lit up. 

“Hey, hi!” This was the most cheerful Zoe had ever heard someone talk in here. She cleared her throat.

“No.” The guy came over to her and leaned on the counter, a broad grin on his face.

“I’m Kriz. Do you want to join our boy band?”

“I’m a woman.”

“Doesn’t mean you can’t be a boy.” He turned to the group behind him and pointed to the other humanoid. “Florian here, he’s the only actual guy. Nebby,” he pointed out the sparkling cloud, “is a sentient nebula, but he vibes with us. And Xevric, well, he was created in a society where everyone sort of assumes everyone else to be male, although no one really knows. And my humble self is, like, somewhere along the lines of masculinity. We all don’t take it that seriously.” He looked at her, eyebrows raised, as if his offer was obviously irrefusable.

“I can’t sing or dance, really,” said Zoe. Kriz made a throw-away motion with his hand. “Don’t worry. No one will really hear you, I mean you’ve got four other guys singing too. And Flo will teach you the choreography in no time, won’t you, Flo?” The shorter humanoid smiled awkwardly but nodded. “Aaand, you get free drinks for the night,” he added. “So what’s to lose?” Zoe raised her eyebrows. She looked at the bartender, who nodded. She thought for a second. To be fair, she liked stages, putting on a show. And these guys seemed funny enough. For a night of free drinks at the Once, why not?

“One gig,” said Zoe. “I’ll help you out for this one gig, and then you re-write your songs for four.” Kriz held out his hand, and Zoe shook it.

“Deal.” He jerked his head around to the others. “Come meet the new band member, uh,” he leaned in, “what’s your name?”

“Zoe.”

“Right, Zoe!” The corners of his mouth were stretching towards his ears, and Zoe feared his cheerfulness might be genuine.

~

“Right, do you remember your steps?” Florian was putting electric blue make-up on her face. He’d already given her former band-member Greg’s outfit, a light blue suit with giant shoulder pads, featuring a belt. Zoe contemplated taking it after the gig, because although it was a truly horrendous thing covered in blue and white rhinestones, it held her gun pretty well. She simply didn’t know where you could find belt shops.

Now she was trying to do the choreography steps while sitting down, and after three attempts replied “No.” Florian stopped doing her eyeliner to look at her.

“It’ll be fine. No one will notice.” Zoe chuckled.

“Are you trying to convince me or yourself?” The corners of his mouth jerked up for a second.

“Both.” The door to the dressing room burst open and a hectic Kriz came through. He looked at Zoe for a second, bewildered, as if trying to remember who she was.

“Right, are you gonna keep this on?” He held a flat hand over his chest, and Zoe understood after a second.

“Do you think they’re detachable?” He shrugged. 

“I don’t know, some are.” 

“Krizzz, you really don’t know a thing about humansss, do you?” Xevric came slithering in through the still open door. 

“I thought they were all like Greg, you know,” said Kriz to defend himself. “Was a shocker to see her have darker hair, even.” A metallic scratching came from Xevric, which Zoe guessed was his laughter. She had to hold in a laugh, too.

“You can borrow one of my binders, if you want,” said Florian, and Zoe accepted the offer. Not that a flat chest was inherently a boy thing, but it did seem to fit the Cosmos Boys’ vibe.

“Has anyone seen Nebby, by the way?” asked Kriz. The three band members looked at each other and shook their heads. 

“Nebby?” called Florian into the room. After a moment, bright pink stardust materialised around them and formed the trembling shape of a man.

“Oh, Neb,” said Florian and went over to him. He couldn’t actually touch him, but mere proximity seemed to be enough. The pink faded a tiny bit. “Stage fright?” Nebby trembled a bit more, tendrils of stardust leaking out of his shape. 

“We’ll rock this, boys,” said Kriz, the hectic look sliding off his features and his bright smile returning. “The crowd isn’t that big, but they’ll leave having met the five loves of their lives.” Nebby pulsated at that, turning a dark purple. Zoe took it as a good sign.

“Right, boys, five minutes and we’re on, so get ready!”

Zoe hastily put on the binder and let Florian finish her make-up. She recounted the steps in her mind and her few lines (luckily, Greg had had shorter parts in the songs). Everyone was nervous, even Xevric. His legs wouldn’t stop twitching as he was humming the songs to himself. Nebby had also fallen into a low hum, some of which seemed to be whole chords. Florian kept touching up his make-up and checking his outfit. Even Kriz leaning on the door was chewing on his fingernails.

Then they heard the bartender introduce them over the mic, and Kriz’ demeanour changed completely. He stood upright, his broad smile back in place, a spark in his eyes.

“Let’s go, boys.” He opened the door and through they went, into the blinding spotlights. The feeling of the stage overwhelmed Zoe so that for a second she didn’t realise that the lights were actually quite pleasant, and the crowd was clapping reservedly. Kriz grabbed his microphone with a big swing.

“Hello hello, guests at the Once! It is my pleasure to greet you on this wonderful night. You do not know us yet, but does anyone even know themselves?” Scattered laughter. Zoe thought it sounded uneasy. But Kriz was grinning, his teeth shining like stars.

“We are the Cosmos Boys, and this is our first song to ever be performed! Give it up for Big Bang!” 

The lights went out, the playback set in, and Zoe scrambled to get to her position. As the lights went on again, she was standing at the back, focusing on copying Florian’s moves for as long as she could. At the first position shift, she almost fell and missed her very first line, but Florian sang it instead and winked at her. After the first few slip-ups, she got into the music, even enjoyed it, and what she didn’t remember about the choreography she just added intuitively. And two minutes later she found herself dancing and singing along to a song she’d never listen to on her own, waving her hands and swinging her hips. She tripped over Xevric's feet multiple times and was definitely singing flatly, but it was okay. 

The other guys were amazing. Nebby hummed the bass-line and harmonies, Xevric made most of the synth sounds and threw in ad-libs here and there. Florian and Kriz shared the lead vocals, Florian singing accurately with his angelic voice. Kriz was absolutely killing it. He had an amazing voice, loud but not penetrating, and it was clear he was born for the stage. Zoe didn’t have much time to watch him without messing up her steps, but she saw him spinning around and jumping, putting his soul into the performance, all while grinning like a maniac. 

When the lights went out, the crowd applauded loudly. Zoe could see Kriz’ shoulders rising and falling. But there was no time to catch their breath as the next song started playing and the lights shifted. Zoe couldn’t wipe the smile off her face.

~

“That. Was. Amazing,” said Kriz in the dressing room. His face was a flushed dark blue, his three eyes glowing. Xevric lay down on the floor with his legs up in the air. “Pretty good for a firssst show,” he agreed. Florian just smiled to himself, his eyes wandering over his band-members. Nebby was glowing yellow.

“I kinda thought the crowd would be assholes but they were feeling it out there,” said Zoe. Kriz shrugged and grinned, but he was breathing heavily.

“Well, all you gotta do is bring some great atmosphere with you. Potential pun fully intended.” Zoe rolled her eyes but smiled.

“You’re staying with us, then?” Kriz asked. Zoe opened her mouth, automatically forming a No, but then she stopped herself. Florian raised his eyebrows, Nebby was turning green.

“Well I guess I have nothing better to do,” she said and sighed. 

“Yess,” said Kriz. “Welcome to the team, brother.”

[nationalharryleague]

Two for the Show

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

Genre: Famous Fake Dating! 

Word Count: 17.1k!

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

***

Keeping appearances in the public eye is a delicate balance.

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

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

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

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

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

But something kept holding her back.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How so?”

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

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

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

“I see,” she mused.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

All was going according to Jeff’s plan.

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

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

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

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

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

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

She was honestly speechless. This was huge.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His response came only seconds later.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Really good job, kiddos.

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

@Harry_Styles: We treat people with kindness.

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m Emma,” she breathed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

They were screaming in excitement, screaming for her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

Fans took notice and loved it.

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

The fans loved that too.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But it was rude.”

“It was necessary.”

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We have to celebrate.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can I ask you?”

“What?”

“About your ex.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Always,” he said with a gentle smirk.

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

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

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

“What a dirtbag.”

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

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

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

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

“Fuck it,” she shrugged. “Sure.”

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

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

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

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

“Noted.”

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

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

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

“Were the rest of us chopped liver?”

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

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

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

“Rude-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wait, I have another!”

“Watch it, smart ass.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He was her best friend.

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

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

“Just remember me when you get famous.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why not?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re welcome, love.”

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

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

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

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

“Are you flirting with me, Styles?”

“Just practicing.”

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

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

He was always in hers.

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He smelled so good. He smelled like home.

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

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

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

“You said you liked surprises!” he defended.

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

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

“Sing what?”

“That’s the surprise.”

“Do I even know the words?”

“You definitely know the words,” he chuckled.

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

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

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

“I had Lambert put something together for you.”

“Of course you did.”

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

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

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

“Pinky swear?”

“Pinky swear.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She could never say no to him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

There he was.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You don’t remember anything?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Just a question, princess.”

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

“What’s so funny?”

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

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

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

“You're cruel.”

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

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

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

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

“I think so.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh thank god,” they mumbled in unison.

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

“How did I get into Harry’s clothes?”

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

“But why Harry’s?”

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t think it would be weird.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Neither do I.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

An extra for our babies can be found here!

[orchiddarling]

Welcome to the Quarry! pt 1.

Pairing: Travis Hackett x Reader (M/F)

Prompt: The lack of fics for Travis.

A/N: I need more Travis and/or Chris x reader. So I said... fuck it! I’ll do it myself. (You also are 26!!) Warning!: There will be smut later. (Gif does not belong to me; it belongs to the owner!)

You were on your way to Hackett’s Quarry a day early; you had your music up and the window slightly lowered to let the cool night air in. Your air conditioner was broken and you were hoping that this job at a kid’s camp would help cover some vehicle repairs as well as a better place when you returned home.

You were older than the teens that were going to be working there and you were nervous. Chris had hired you to look out for them as he didn’t quite trust that they’d be okay on their own. A glorified babysitter, this should be fun!! You rolled your eyes and sighed, humming softly to the music as you made your way down the stretch of road. Even with the stars and the moon out; the road was so dark. You were starting to worry that you had taken a wrong turn at the fork in the road about 30 minutes ago.

You decided to slow down and pull over to get a better look at the map you had laying on the passenger’s seat. You turned the car’s interior light on and pulled the map to you, “Where the hell am I?” You mumbled to yourself as you traced your finger along the road you think you’d taken. “I’m sure I’m right.... here,” you pointed to your location before examining it more. You were not too far from an open looking spot on the map, “Is that where the Quarry is?” You could admit it now, you were definitely lost. It only took one brief look to your plugged in phone to realize that you had no signal. Is this night getting progressively worse?  Your body slumped back in defeat, your head hitting the seat with a long sigh escaping you.

You were too lost in your thoughts with your eyes closed that you didn’t notice an officer pull up behind you. Your music faded just in time for a loud knock on your window, “Excuse me, ma’am?” Your window was still partially rolled down so the voice startled you. You looked at the Officer wide eyed while trying to calm yourself; rolling down the window so you could speak clearly, “Y-Yes sir? I’m sorry... I was just--” “You were..? Doing what? Why are you out on this road so late?” He interrupted you rudely before you could explain. His left hand leaning on your car and his right bracing himself on your windowsill. He was close to you as you spoke. He was so close that you could smell the cologne he was wearing. It did smell pleasant, “As I was saying, I was headed to Hackett’s Quarry. I’m going to be a counselor there this summer.” The Officer seemed very skeptical, studying your features to see if you were lying to him. There were weird people always trying to get close to the Quarry;. The rumors of the Hag of Hackett’s Quarry would spur young adventurers and thrill seekers into the forest surrounding the Quarry. It was a pain in the ass and tonight, well, he really didn’t need that.

“Counselor’s aren’t expected until tomorrow night,” He hummed low, looking at the night sky for a moment before awaiting a response from you. “I know, I wanted to come early so that I could prepare. Mr. Hackett said he would be there. So... he’s kind of waiting for me.” The truth was, you didn’t want to pay for a whole month’s rent and that led you to couch hopping at friend’s places. It saved you some money! Your plan was to come up a day early, get acquainted and comfy before everyone else started to show up. You would also start getting paid as soon as you got there.

He sighed and closed his eyes before giving a stern response, “You will not be going there tonight. You’re going to head to the Harbinger Motel and go first thing to Hackett’s Quarry in the morning.” You could see his grip on the window sill tighten slightly, he was rather annoyed. Had this been happening to him a lot lately? “I understand, Officer, but I really don’t have the funds to stay at a Motel. I swear... Mr. Hackett’s---” “You will do as I say, ma’am, and you will head to the Harbinger Motel.” He grit the sentence through his teeth. You didn’t want to push the subject further, you didn’t have the money and this guy was not listening to you. So, you did what you thought was the best option, “Okay, I’ll go to the Motel tonight. What’s your name, sir? So I can tell Mr. Hackett who kept me from making it?” You said with a sly smile, watching his brows knit together in irritation. He shook his head before pushing himself up to stand, starting to walk towards his cruiser, “Harbinger Motel ma’am. Tonight..” You shook your head in response, turning your attention back to the map. You weren’t any closer to knowing the location but you had a feeling that open space was the Quarry. You were going to go tonight; you had no money and you would much rather spend the night in your car then go to a run down Motel in the middle of nowhere. -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You exited your car and slammed the door shut behind you. You pumped your fist into the air victorious as you moved to the trunk. You had found Hackett’s Quarry, without the help of the Officer! It looked a bit frightening at this time of night, but you had to admit; it was still gorgeous. The lodge stood in front of you, it’s large deck seemed to wrap around the entire front of the place. This is awesome!

As you pulled your bag from the back, you stopped for a moment before closing the trunk. It was eerily quiet out, there were no birds or night time animals. It was a full moon, the stars were out; and not a single peep from an owl, frogs, or crickets. You felt a chill creep up your back before closing the door. This feels... so wrong.. you thought as you ascended the stairs to the front door of the lodge. All the lights were off and it didn’t look like Mr. Hackett was here.

Your hand reached up to knock on the door, “Hello? Mr. Hackett? Are you here?” You called out into the lodge but there was no answer. You moved to one of the big windows to peer inside. There was nothing; no movement, no sound, no light. It was empty. Fuck... I really do have to sleep in my car now. Still better than a Motel. You opened your trunk door again to put your bag down.

Just as you were about to close the trunk door; a pair of strong hands grab you from behind. You were about to let out a scream when one hand came up to press against your lips, effectively sealing them. You struggled in the person’s grasp, only pressing yourself further into them. You felt the stranger’s face close to your head, leaning close to say something, “I told you to go to the Motel; you brought this on yourself.” It... sounded familiar..  wait... No it couldn’t be. It’s the Officer from earlier?! His hand unwrapped from your waist to dig into his pocket while trying to steady you. You felt something cold against your neck, a pinch and then your world started to spin. You felt like a fish out of water the more you struggled in his grasp.

“You did this to yourself!!” He said louder as you started to fall limp in his arms. Had you heard concern laced in his words? No, he was a psycho... and you were his victim. Not how you wanted to start this summer AT ALL!! Would you have been safer if you would have listened and gone to the shitty Motel instead?

Your last vision was of the man carrying you to his squad car bridle style, mumbling something about young people being ‘so fucking stupid’ before you felt weightless and your world darkened.

[himitsu-luna]

Headcanon

࣪𑁍˖՚༹⌒ Domestic chores with Nct 127 ⌒ ༹՚˖𑁍 ࣪

ᨳ☆‧˚Taeil

Taeil always feels kinda discouraged to start doing the chores, and he drags you along on procrastinating with him

"Come here, Y/N, stay with me a little bit more! Let's cuddle five more minutes, okay?". You agree, ofc, and you stay on the bed for a little too long, talking about the zillion things you have to do, but not having the guts to leave each other's arms.

When you start cleaning the house though, he really gets into it. No dirty spots and no dusty surfaces escape his strong hands.

He plays the most random songs, from classic music to heavy EDM, and you vibe together while doing the chores, bouncing with your brooms in hands and spinning your stained cloths in the air.

In the kitchen, he always gladly cooks for you. But after a long tiring day doing domestic chores, you both agree on ordering some food, spending the night just chilling, watching a movie in the middle of which Taeil probably will fall asleep.

ᨳ☆‧˚Johnny

Johnny is the one who organizes the chores at home. He assigns what each one needs to do, and there you go, his high energy overflowing from his body, encouraging you and providing you the ignition you needed.

"I clean up here, you clean down there" - he says with a suspicious smirk. You don't know if he is making fun of you or if he is being considerate.

He needs his coffee pauses, and he makes you take a break too. You talk about the most random daily things, which always leads to precious bonding moments, the kitchen getting filled with laidback laughs.

Then you continue your activities, in your own pace, jamming to some soft background music.

Johnny likes to offer you rewards. "If we finish this today, I'll buy us some nice ice cream, and then I'll take you to the movies. Deal?"

ᨳ☆‧˚Taeyong

Taeyong has the most endearing way of convincing you that it's time to do some domestic chores. "Y/N, come hereeee! It's time for a couple activity!! I even got us matching rubber gloves, look!"

He doesn't let you do heavy tough stuff though. But when you see him struggling by himself and run to help him, he gives you the most precious smile, full of admiration and gratitude. A cute "Thank yoou!" (yes, in his cute english <3) leaves his mouth.

But there's one thing about doing chores with him that is a bit trick: he loves to rearrange the furniture and decoration. It's always extra tiring, but you have to give him the credit for your house being so cool and stylish.

Taking care of your pets is something that consumes a lot of time, but Taeyong does everything with happiness and sparkly eyes.

He makes sure you have some breaks, to keep hydrated and to eat something. He will prepare you some sandwiches, while you start to plan a little trip to the grocery shop.

ᨳ☆‧˚Yuta

Yuta and you have this synchronicity and telepathy. You think "I guess it's time to sweep the front yard". You get your broom and everything, and when you step out the house, Yuta is already there, cleaning everything.

"Oh, you had the same idea! Well, you can...", he says. "Oh, I guess I will...", you start. "....do the laundry.", you two say at the same time, smiling at each other.

He tries to do things in "Marie Kondo style". He takes a long time folding your clothes, but it's worth the effort. Your wardrobe is a beautiful piece of art.

If he thinks something is dangerous for you, he definetely won't let you do it. Changing the lamp? No no no! It's not that he thinks you're not capable of doing things, he knows you can do anything. He just can't live with the possibility of you getting hurt.

After a day of hard work, you take a warm bath together, and stay in bed for the rest of the night.

ᨳ☆‧˚Doyoung

Like Johnny, Doyoung assigns the chores. He knows the things each one of you is good at.

But he is the type of person that sees you doing something, and automatically says "Wait baby, let me do it for you", or starts helping you, out of habit.

For example: you're doing the dishes, you wash part of the things in the sink, and then you start to rinse them. Doyoung takes the opportunity to sneakily snatch the dish sponge and, it's too late, he won't give it back to you. "Don't get used to it though", he says with a little grin. You grin back, because you lost count of how many times you've heard this same sentence.

You have a lot of plants at home, and Doyoung treats them like real babies. He even bought one for you, a baby tree of your favorite fruit.

Cooking is his thing, so he makes sure you have a nice, delicious and nutricious meal everyday.

ᨳ☆‧˚Jaehyun

Jaehyun will gladly do anything you ask him to do with the best of intentions, and he does his best to help.

He looks at the weather forecast to see when it's a good day to do the laundry, he sorts the garbage for recycling, he researches the supermarkets with the best prices, and does other little things that seem unimportant, but that are truly essential.

He likes vaccuing very dirty places. The satisfaction he gets from seeing the clean path that the vaccum leaves among the dirty is priceless.

But he is clumsy, so you know you can't let him get near the fragile stuff. So the kitchen is a little bit dangerous for him

If he can't help you with something, he makes sure to support you, like a real cheerleader. "Oh yessss honey! You're doing great, wow!That's my baby!!", he says, already massaging your shoulders.

ᨳ☆‧˚Winwin

Winwin sees you getting ready to start cleaning, and he asks you what he can do to help, while wearing your spare cute apron, which makes you smile like a fool.

He follows you and do what you do, ocasionally asking you if the things he is doing are good enough.

He is extra careful when hanging the clothes out on the clothesline, making sure to spread them well to avoid any wrinkles. He knows none of you like ironing, and also you burned yourself once, and he doesn't want this to happen ever again.

He spends a considerable amount of time making your bed, changing the bed linen, tyding up the sheets and smoothing the pillows, so you can feel good in a clean space and relax with him after working hard all day long.

ᨳ☆‧˚Jungwoo

Jungwoo is very good at domestic chores. He is a tidy and organized person, so things go smoothly in your house

He has the ability of turning every boring task into a pleasant and funny experience. Out of sudden you're having a broomstick battle. Out of sudden you're blowing soap bubbles. Out of sudden you're with white flour blots all over your face, after a spontaneous flour smudge battle.

For your surprise, he is excelent on fixing things. His creativity helps him a lot, along with a couple of YouTube videos and a degree on engineering.

Times just flies by his side, and you get surprised when you see the sun going down by your window, as he streches his back and says "we're finally done!", pulling you for a little celebration dance.

Jungwoo doesn't want to cook after doing domestic chores all day long. He orders an amount of food that could feed well ten people, and you eat a lot while watching some nice series.

ᨳ☆‧˚Mark

Mark always tries his best at everything. He knows he is a little bit clumsy, so he does things carefully. Thank God he has spider senses.

A chore that is supposed to be finished in ten minutes takes thirty to be completed, but it's completely fine, because you know it will be perfectly done.

He used to get confused with all the types of cleaning products, but he eventually learned about them all and now he knows anything's purpose just by smeling it. "Mmmm very soft floral smell, must be clothes soap/ Very strong and citric, I guess this is disinfectant" (pls people, don't be like this, it's dangerous for everyone!!!)

At the end of the day, he is so satisfied looking at your team work. You can see it on his little proud smile, while he runs an arm over your shoulders and distractedly kisses your cheek.

ᨳ☆‧˚Haechan

Haechan whines for two minutes before starting doing chores, but he is a man of action after all. "The sooner we start it, the sooner we'll finish it", he says to himself.

You play rock paper scissors to decide who will be the one that will do the unpleasant chores, like cleaning the bathroom and taking the garbage out.

But hearing your heavy sigh after losing for him makes him go "ahh ok, I'll do it, don't worry, but it will cost you twenty kisses!"

He doesn't stop singing while doing the chores. He is like a walking karaoke machine,he knows every song you ask him to sing.

When he cooks for you, you often catch him talking to his mom on the phone, asking her about that dish you liked so much the last time you visited her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

•° Thanks anon, for the request!! I hope you like it!

•° taglist - @soleilsuhh @black-swvn @cupidluvstarrz @kpopsnowball @kaepopsicle @purplepsycho03 @najatheangel @dundun-baby @haifengg @intokook @emuava @reallylikethevibeshere @cafemochi

* If you want to be added to or removed from the taglist, just send me an ask or a message (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧

•° Masterlist

...

[cacoetheswriting]

for you and i

Pairings: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Warnings: honestly just pure fluff, mild swearing, mentions of alcohol consumption, implied smut (nothing graphic) Word Count: 2.2k Summary: A small collection of moments throughout reader’s and Spencer’s evolving relationship that features their song. A/N: this symbol ~~ signifies a time jump.

A/N: i finished my rewatch of bones last night (im hella emotional), and one of my favourite “running gags” from the show is hot blooded being booths and brennans song, and how the writers reminded us of that from season to season. it definitely definitely inspired me to write this. also i did this instead of working on my assignment as a birthday gift from me to me lmao ENJOY

-

The plane trip back home was completely silent.

Morgan and JJ were catching up on much needed sleep. Emily, lost in thought, observed the night sky through the small window. Rossi was reading, as Hotch worked his way through some case files.

Spencer sat next to you at the far end of the jet. You were listening to music while his nose was buried in a book. Although you could tell he couldn't really concentrate on the words as the page remained unturned for the last fifteen minutes.

“Why don’t you let your eyes rest for a minute?” You suggested, carefully taking out one earphone. “A short nap could be good for you. It doesn’t look like you’re retaining any information anyway.”

Spencer nodded slowly, agreeing with you. He shut the novel in his lap and tilted his head to look at you, his lips pursed into a thin shy smile. “You should get some sleep too Y/N.”

“I’m okay.” You replied. “Plus someone has to keep watch in case the jet gets abducted by aliens or something.” A sly grin appeared on your face as Spencer chuckled softly. He rested his head against the chair and gradually closed his eyes.

You watched him for a moment. Examining his perfect features. Your innocent crush growing by the second - something you would never admit out loud in fear it would ruin your friendship.

When you were about to place the earpiece back in your ear, his eyes shot back open. He sighed heavily.

"I actually don’t think I can.” Spencer said quietly and once again turned his attention to you. His gaze briefly landed on the phone in your hands before travelling up to your face. “Did you know that in addition to aiding relaxation and helping with falling asleep quicker as well as improving sleep quality, playing music before bed can improve sleep efficiency? Which means more time you are in bed is actually spent sleeping.” You raised a curious brow waiting for him to continue, but he just asked: “Can I ask what you are listening to?”.

Instead of answering his question, you wiped the dangling earphone against your blouse and handed it to him. He took it, a little hesitantly, and placed it in his ear - the two of you unconsciously shifting closer to one another.

You could tell by the expression on his face that he didn't know the song currently playing, nor did he particularly like it, but he didn't protest or ask you to skip it. In his eyes, you were kind enough to share your source of entertainment therefore he would never push to change what you were clearly enjoying.

The song ended, another began, and another, and another. Eventually Spencer closed his eyes again. The two of you continued to silently listen to the various songs on your playlist - a wild mix of different artists and genres, definitely showcasing your weird music taste.

Touch Me by The Doors began to play.

“I like this one.” Spencer muttered, eyes still closed. “I didn't peg you to be a rock fan.” You stated curiously. Spencer chuckled softly. “I wouldn't call myself a fan per se, this is just a very good song.” “This is actually my favourite song of theirs.” You proclaimed.

Sinking deeper in your seat, you quietly sang along. “What was that promise that you made?” To your pleasant surprise, the young doctor joined in. “Why won't you tell me what she said? What was that promise that you made?” 

Lost in the pure bliss of the moment, you gently rested your head against Spencer’s shoulder. His eyes fluttered open. He glanced down at you and smiled to himself. Yes. Yes, he could definitely get used to this.

~~

“Watch it!!!” You shouted and rudely gestured after the vehicle that overtook you out of nowhere, almost sliding right into your car. Frustrated, you ran your hands through your hair before placing them on the wheel again. A deep sigh escaping your lips in the process.

Spencer chuckled next to you. “Maybe next time I’ll drive.”

“Sorry.” You muttered, tone of your voice changing completely for a moment. “People are just so fucking stupid.” The groan was full of annoyance, and it only made the young doctor snicker louder.

“How about we turn on the radio?” Spencer suggested. “Cool you down a little since we have another hour drive ahead of us, and I would preferably like to get there in one piece.” He teased. You rolled your eyes at his comment, but didn’t protest.

Taking your silence as a yes, Spencer fumbled with the car radio.

‘Come on, come on, come on, come on Now touch me, babe’

Voice of Jim Morrison blared through the speakers. Instantly, your whole body loosened up. No longer feeling annoyed or angry. Driver’s rage dissipated. The frown circling your features was replaced by a happy smile.

‘Can't you see that I am not afraid?’

Stopping at a red light, you looked at Spencer who was lightly bopping his head to the beat of the music. His gentle curls bouncing with his every move.

“You know, the universe is telling us that this is our song now.” You noted. The young doctor met your gaze, and the grin present on his face made your heart skip a beat. A faint hit of nerves cascaded through your body as you anxiously waited for his response.

Spencer shrugged his shoulders slightly. “It’s a good song. The universe could have wished us a lot worse.”

As the light ahead turned green, and you were driving once again, the two of you burst into the chorus as loud as you possibly could: “Now, I'm going to love you! Till the heavens stop the rain!”.

~~

The bar was filled to the brim with people wanting to unwind after a long week of work. That included the BAU team.

“One more for the road!” Morgan exclaimed, jumping out of his seat. He motioned to Hotch for assistance and the two of them briskly walked off in the direction of the bar. “While they’re gone, I’m gonna hop to the loo.” Penelope chimed. “I’ll join you.” JJ spoke up and they hurried off.

Spencer sat beside you, shoulder pressed lightly to yours. He was sipping on the remainder of his drink and you were about to open your mouth to say something, engage him in conversation, when you heard it. The song. Your song.

Your head instantly snapped up at him and a mischievous grin spread on your face. By the time Spencer realised what was going on, you were up on your feet grabbing him by the arm, and pulling him onto the self-made dance floor.

You began to sway along to the music. The alcohol currently flowing through your veins definitely made you that much braver. It also gave Spencer the confidence boost he needed to join you with no objections.

Despite the questionable looks you were undoubtedly receiving, the two of you jumped around like kids. Singing the song out loud to one another. It was as if the world around you disappeared. Like you and Spencer were the only people left in the bar.

‘Till the stars fall from the sky’

And when the night concluded, when everyone said their goodbyes, Spencer continued to hum the melody of your song as he waited with you for the taxi. It was then you chose to make the first move - colliding your lips with his in a carefree kiss.

They were softer than you ever imagined. 

All at once, the attraction between you two and the tension that built up over the years burst. You grabbed onto his jacket pulling him even closer. Suddenly, the cold night air didn’t feel so cold anymore. It was hot, burning like a flame. Your body was on fire and so was his. 

Spencer’s long arms wrapped around you, trapping you in the fire. One of his hands moved lower down your back, while the other tightly gripped your hair. The sensation that he felt was unimaginable. He always imagined what you would taste like, although he never expected anything would happen. He imagined how your body would feel against his. How your lips taste. But this, this exceeded all expectations.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this.” He said in a smoky voice after pulling away, his hands now holding your face. “That’s what I was going to say.” You managed to whisper before his lips landed on yours again. Your heart pounding hard inside your chest, it felt as if it was about to explode.

~~

Spencer huffed as he placed a heavy cardboard box down on the ground. He straightened himself, flattened down his crinkly t-shirt, and turned to you with a smile. “That’s the last of it.” He stated proudly, placing his hands on his hips.

“My hero.” You ambled towards him and pecked his lips. “Thank you.” His arms made their way around your waist, pulling you in close. He placed a tender kiss on your forehead before glancing around the room.

“I can’t believe we’re officially moved in together.”

“It’s been a longtime coming.”

“That it definitely has.” Spencer smiled kissing you. He let his arms fall and shuffled around to start unpacking. 

Having planned ahead, you removed a speaker from your handbag. You quickly set it up, connecting it to your phone, and pressed play to ease the process that would carry on into the night.

Starting with the kitchen, and the more fragile items, the two of you made your way through the new apartment. 

Hours passed. It was getting quite late as tiny yawns continuously escaped your lips. However, the hard work was paying off because space started to feel more and more like home.

You decided to finish up for the night - tomorrow was another day. Yawning, you leaned into the arms of your boyfriend. Spencer kissed the top of your head and began to sway you slowly from side to side.

Right on queue, the guitar intro you both recognised well began to play through the speakers. You smiled into his chest before breaking free from his embrace. 

‘Yeah! Come on, come on, come on, come on Now touch me, babe Can't you see that I am not afraid’

Sharing a knowing look, you both started to dance. Not wanting to disrupt any neighbours you both chose not to sing along like you usually did. Instead, you mouthed the words in sync as if you were competing in a lip-sync battle.

‘What was that promise that you made? Why won't you tell me what she said? What was that promise that you made?’

The two of you circled happily around one another. It wasn't long before the air guitars came into play. 

And as the song concluded, Spencer cupped your cheeks. “I love you.” He muttered, gazing deep into your eyes. “I love you too.” You replied smiling.

Without another word, Spencer’s lips crashed against yours. Both your heads tilting hungrily from side to side to vary pressure. Hearts hammering loudly. Your hands made their way up his muscled back as his hands traveled down your neck, giving it a gentle squeeze.

"Why don’t we move this party to the bedroom?” He suggested, his face still only inches away from yours. You lifted your hand, and brushed some of his light curls away behind his ear. “I do believe I read somewhere that it is considered bad luck not to christen the bed on the first night of living together.” You stated giggling. 

Spencer raised an interested brow. “What else does the article say?”

“How about I just show you.” And like that, your lips were on his once again as he blindly led you to the bed.

~~

“And now ladies and gentlemen we would like to bring out our newlyweds, Dr. & Mrs. Reid, to dance their first dance as husband and wife. Let’s give them a hand.”

Spencer turned to you, that warm kindhearted smile you loved so much circling his lips. He offered you his hand. “Mrs. Reid.” You took it gladly. “Dr. Reid.”

He led you to the middle of the dance floor and swiftly wrapped one arm around your waist, holding you close, while the other hand intertwined itself with yours. Music started to play and the two of you swayed elegantly from side to side.

“I have a surprise for you.” Spencer whispered in your ear before briefly pulling apart and twirling you around. 

Suddenly the music stopped. Sounds of disappointment echoed through the watching crowd as you shot your husband a quizzical look.

A melody you knew all too well filled the space.

Your mouth parted slightly in shock as Spencer let his arm fall from your waist. He spun you around once again and began rhythmically banging his head to the beat of the song. You couldn't help but giggle at the sight before joining in.

Excited screams echoed through the crowd as they cheered on. Even though you heard them, you knew people were watching and documenting this moment, you felt as if there was no-one else around - déjà vu.

Spencer pressed his forehead lightly to yours, his hands cupping your cheeks. His lips twirled into a smile. A big smile that you reciprocated. Feeling as if you were on cloud nine, you looked deep into each others eyes and whole heartedly sang along with the song. Your song.

‘I'm going to love you Till the heavens stop the rain I'm going to love you Till the stars fall from the sky For you and I’

-

masterlist

[angryschnauzer]

Blackwater Lake - Chapter 1

Summary: There’s a little town high in the mountains where everyone has a secret, and every family has something that makes them unique. In Blackwater Lake those that are outcast by nature come together. 

Characters: Werewolf!Captain Syverson, Werewolf!Female Reader, Vampire!Walter Marshall.

Warnings (for this chapter, all small mentions but warning just in case): Breastfeeding, Accidental Cutting Injury/Blood loss, blood transfusions. This chapter contains no sex scenes or scenes of a sexual nature.

A continuation of previous Werewolf!Sy stories Moonlight on the Sand and Castle Under The Stars. This will be a series of stand alone stories/2 parters, which will revolve around the residents of the town, with some recurring characters.

I do not run a tag list, but please follow @angryschnauzerwrites​ and put that blog onto notifications. You’ll then get an alert every time i post something new.

Blackwater Lake - Chapter 1

The late spring day brought pleasant scents and mouth watering flavours, Blackwater Lake’s town May day parade in full flow as you held two month old Luna in her carrier to your chest, turning to smile at your husband Sy as he balanced Mikey on his shoulders so your son could watch the floats whilst they slowly cruised past. You knew he would be most excited about the Fire Department bringing their trucks past. At the first whoop of the siren Mikey squealed with joy, the ice cream cone in his hand tipping slightly and setting a blob of blue bubblegum flavour gelato into Sy’s cheek;

“Hey, no wriggles! Its raining ice cream down here”

Pausing the consumption of your own cone you handed it to Sy as you reached into your bag and found a baby wipe, moving to wipe his cheek before stretching to wipe your son’s face. Finding a trash can to toss the wipe into, you smiled as you watched your two boys as they waved to the Fire Trucks, the crew making sure to honk their horns when they saw Sy.

Everyone in town loved Sy. You’d moved there together when you’d found out you were pregnant with Mikey, your army days behind you and wanting to seek somewhere quiet where you could live in the woods to allow for full moon runs whilst being close enough to civilisation to raise a family. The aging receptionist at the realtor had pulled you aside the second you’d arrived in their office when you’d visited the town, recognising one of her own as her nostrils had flared and she’d explained that there were ‘all sorts’ in the town. That was your first meeting with Edith, and you’d gone on to move in just up the mountain from her. Once Sy had finished in the Army and baby number two was on the way, he’d started working alongside retired detective Walter at his construction company where they specialised in commercial buildings. They were always on call for when businesses had emergencies, so had come to the aid of half the town after storms and accidents.

As the parade dragged on Luna woke, grumbling for a change and a feed. The two boys were transfixed with the parade and you’d lost your ice cream cone to Sy who was now mindlessly munching away on it. Tugging on his sleeve you caught his attention;

“Luna’s woken up, i’m gonna take her into Sue’s Coffee Shop to change her and give her a feed”

“Sure thing Darlin, we’ll come find you in a bit”

-

The coffee shop was quiet, its doors opened onto the sidewalk and as the radio played soft rock music, just one or two tables taken outside but the inside empty. Sue - the owner - smiled at you as you walked in;

“Hey Sue!”

“Hey there! What can I get'cha?”

“Can i get a decaf iced latte? I just need to change Luna if that’s ok?”

“Of course, no need to ask, the restroom is empty”

A couple of minutes later your little girl had a clean butt but was still grizzling, now hungry for your milk. Sue had set your drink onto a table in the corner, a soft window seat she knew you liked to sit at to feed. Settling in you pulled your cami top down and unhooked the strap of your nursing bra, helping Luna to latch on as she cried before a blissful quiet descended over you as she happily suckled on your breast. In the quiet of the coffee shop you reached for your drink and sipped on it, smiling down at your beautiful daughter as she gazed up at you;

“Hey there my little Luna, better now? Is that the good stuff? Yeah? Well that’s what your Daddy says it is…” you said with a whisper and a smirk.

“Hey”

The sudden greeting made you jump, looking up to see Walter standing near your table;

“Oh, Hi Walter”

“Sorry…” he glanced away, averting his eyes from where you were feeding; “I just asked if you wanted anything?”

“Oh no, i’m fine, i’ve got a coffee… but you’re welcome to join me if you like? Sy and Mikey will be along once the Parade’s over”

Nodding once the quiet man went to order before returning with what looked like a quad espresso but faltering when it came to taking a seat;

“Where did you want me to sit?”

“Oh anywhere you like” you shifted Luna as she had finished on one breast, hooking that side up before shifting and moving her to the other breast. You’d mastered the art of switching breasts without revealing anything, the baby's head blocking any view of a nipple, and you were a vehement supporter of breast feeding - in fact any feeding - and had been known to get into loud shouting matches with anyone that told you to cover up something that was completely natural.

“I mean, i don’t want Sy to think i’m here oggling his wife’s tits”

Laughing, you kicked out a soft chair with your foot;

“This is fairly low, take this one and here…” you moved the upright menu on the table in front of Luna’s head, knowing that she would now be shielded from view and with your breast, and saving Walter’s embarrassment.

Just as Walter sat down Sue brough over his sandwich, the scent of it hitting your nostrils and making your stomach audibly growl;

“Oh wow, what is that?”

“A steak wrap with chimichurri sauce” he lifted one half and offered it to you, but you shook your head.

“Thanks, but that’s just a little too rare for me… looks like a good veterinarian could bring it back to life”

Walter laughed as you called out to Sue, ordering one of the same.

“You want yours still mooing too?”

“Medium, please” you laughed as she nodded and walked away.

As she cooked your meal you turned back to Walter. You’d had a few conversations with him over the 11 months he and Sy had worked together, but knew very little about him apart from his reputation of being quiet and surly, generally sleep deprived and a little pale most of the time. He’d been medically retired from the Police Department after an accident where he’d lost a lot of blood and had never fully recovered.

As Luna happily fed and Walter devoured his sandwich you sipped on your drink, watching with curiosity as the man ate in silence, savouring each bloody bite. When he finally crumpled the napkin onto the plate and sat back he caught you watching him;

“What? Do i have something on my face?”

“No” you laughed softly; “Just watching how quickly you devoured that sandwich. Rachel not feeding you at home?”

Walter’s face dropped;

“She left”

“Oh fuck. I’m sorry Walter, i wouldn’t have said anything if i’d known”

“S’ok. She got fed up with the way i lived my life, but i can’t change who i am”

“True”

Just then Sy and Mikey came running into the coffee shop;

“Hi Darlin! Hi Sue! Hi Walt… be right back, Jnr has a bathroom emergency!”

The two Syverson boys disappeared into the restroom, and you could clearly hear Sy’s voice;

“Point! POINT IT AT THE TOILET! That’s it, stand on your tippy toes… there we go! Got here in time!”

You suppressed a laugh, Walter raising his eyebrows;

“Potty training?”

“Uh-huh… it's been a challenging few weeks to say the least, but Mikey wanted to give it a go”

The sound of the dryer could be heard as Sy and Mikey reappeared, Sy giving you double thumbs up from behind his son who ran to you;

“A perfect aim Darlin, no leaks. Think this deserves a cookie!”

As Mikey squealed with joy you groaned;

“Sy… not more sugar! He’ll be up all night. Mikey, honey, how about some fries?”

“And Eggies?” Mikey asked

“Sure thing honey, get Daddy to ask Sue”

As the afternoon wore on and the boys chatted, you listened as Sy and Walter discussed work stuff, Luna sleeping peacefully in your arms as you ate with Mikey. Finally glancing at your watch you motioned to Sy the time;

“Hun, i’ve gotta go collect our meat order from Walkers Meats”

“Oh yeah, sure. Here…” He opened his wallet and peeled off a bunch of $20’s as he turned to Walter; “She makes the best Steak Tartare… it's unbelievable”

“You make that?” Walter asked

Angling Luna into her carrier sling you adjusted the straps and nodded;

“Sure do! Hey, did you want to join us for dinner?”

“Yeah, join us!” Sy parroted; “And before you say anything, you wouldn’t be intruding”

With a weak smile Walter nodded;

“Sure, that’ll be nice. I gotta go to the lumber yard before though… pick out the stuff for next week's job”

You noticed that Mikey had finished his meal and was looking sleepy, holding your hand out to him he slid off the chair and stood next to you;

“How about I take the kids home, Sy you catch a ride with Walter?”

With everyone happy with the arrangements you made your way along main street to where Sy had parked his enormous truck, helping Mikey into his seat before unlatching Luna and settling her into her carrier. They were both fast asleep by the time you got to the drivers seat. 

You managed to park directly outside the door to Walkers Meats, and Freya the weekend girl helpfully brought everything out to you when you called inside that the kids were asleep in the car and you didn’t want to leave them.

-

Dinner had been fun. The two kids were peacefully sleeping as the three adults chatted after the meal, before you finally stood to load the dishwasher and start hand washing the items that couldn’t go in there. Just as you were about to start you heard a cry from the kids, Sy standing;

“It’s Mikey, i’ll go”

As you started to handwash the various knives and delicate glasses, Walter stood at your side to dry items, the two of you talking casually before you let out a cry and pulled your hand from the soapy bowl of water. The dark crimson of your blood flowed from your finger, the knife you’d forgotten you’d put in the sink the cause;

“Fuck… hand me a towel…” you asked Walter, but were surprised when he sucked in a sharp intake of breath and turned, hunching over. Clutching your hand to your chest, you were surprised by his reaction, before he suddenly turned and you let out a shriek.

Sy appeared at the doorway in a panic before rushing to you, wrapping a napkin around your hand before he finally turned to look at Walter;

“What the fuck…”

Walter was pale, paler than usual, but that wasn’t what shocked the pair of you. No, it was the fact his eyes were pure white except for dark pools for his pupils, and as he opened his mouth to speak you saw his fangs;

“It’s… it’s the blood…” he gasped out; “It drives me…”

Sy wrapped his arm around your shoulders, but looked at his friend as he slumped onto the floor, shaking and sobbing;

“Think we need a chat Walt”

-

The three of you sat around the kitchen table, a hefty glass of scotch in front of each of you as Walter spoke;

“So umm yeah… this is why i left the Department. Went into a supposedly abandoned building, but it wasn’t empty. Two what we thought were junkies in there, looked like they were frail and would snap in a keen wind, but they had this strength and speed… They overpowered me, latched onto my neck. Drained my blood, and when the last drop was about to pass their lips one of my officers finally found me and shot them. They bled into me. The EMT’s took me to New Mercy and gave me a massive blood transfusion, and treated me for severe anemia… well guess what, the fangs and fucked up eyes were a surprise a few weeks after i was discharged”

You sat wide eyed and mouth agape, not touching your drink;

“I have so many questions...”

“Okay”

“Garlic. Crosses. Being invited in. Sunlight…”

Walter chuckled;

“Most a load of complete bollocks. Garlic? Well you put some in your steak tartare didn’t you? In fact it helps with the anemia. Crosses? No issue. Being invited in, again that’s just rubbish. Sunlight however… why do you think i’m so pale, huh? Have to wear factor 50 all the damn time otherwise i end up looking like a Maine Lobster at a cookout”

Both you and Sy were transfixed, Walter chatting away but his eyes hadn’t returned to normal and his fangs occasionally caught on his lip as he spoke.

“What ‘bout blood then?” Sy asked

Walter cleared his throat;

“Well, i’ve been making do with cows blood since Rachel left”

“You used to suck her blood?” you asked in a high pitched voice

Again Walter cleared his throat, this time just the faintest hint of a blush crept over his cheeks above his beard;

“Err yeah, about once a month… but she had enough in the end and left”

“I got another question” Sy interjected; “Why are your fangs still out?”

Although he answered Sy, Walter looked directly at you;

“Because she’s bleeding”

You looked down at your hand, puzzled as the wound had now sealed, before it hit you;

“Oh… I should go and sort that out”

Sy caught up quickly, glancing at the back of your dress;

“You’re fine Darlin, Walt caught it in time”

When you returned to the kitchen the two men had knocked back their drinks, Sy pouring another hefty glass for the pair of them. Pouring your drink into Sy’s you smiled at him;

“Luna won’t appreciate it”

Making yourself a herb tea you sat down next to Sy, leaning on his shoulder as you sipped your tea. Walter cleared this throat;

“You two have taken this a lot better than i envisioned anyone would… better than Rachel did…”

You looked up at Sy and smiled, his own grin crossing over his face before he nodded and you both turned to Walter as Sy spoke;

“Oh… we have a bit of understanding of this kinda thing”

With the full moon starting tomorrow night you knew that you could both force your eyes to turn orange, the bright ring of fire in your irises flaming like a pyre, shocking Walter so much he slipped back on his chair and fell to the floor. Greeted by both of you giggling, he pulled himself back up using the table as he righted his chair, knocking back the rest of his glass;

“What… the… FUCK?”

[iam93percentstardust]

Hey, I hope you're had a very pleasant birthday and birthday month! If the prompte are still open: Can you do Stony with Tony finally and sorta randomly confessing his love to Steve and Steve only then realizing that what he feels for Tony is romantic love as well?

Hello! Sure thing! Quick note: there’s a change between present and past tense for a flashback, for anyone who doesn’t like that kind of thing

As always, everything I write is also on ao3

~

“I love you,” Tony says, and Steve doesn’t quite know what to do about that.

He won’t say that he’s thought about it before because he hasn’t. But he won’t say that he’s never thought about it either—because he has, occasionally, glanced at Tony’s ass outlined by his perfectly tailored pants and appreciated the sight, and he has, once or twice, wondered what Tony’s warm, sparkling eyes would look like when hazy with pleasure. But a quick, glancing thought that he immediately moves on from is not the same as being attracted enough to Tony to think about asking him out or anything past that.

And now that he’s faced with that question, he doesn’t know what to say. Is he supposed to thank Tony? Is he supposed to acknowledge his feelings and say that he doesn’t feel the same way? Is he just supposed to ignore what Tony said? This is why he has so much trouble with his dates—he never knows how to act in a way that isn’t awkward. No wonder Natasha recently declared him hopeless after he came back from his last date covered in her sticky drink because he accidentally called her a dame.

“I love you,” Tony says and Steve doesn’t know what to do about that, but as it turns out, he doesn’t have to do anything, because Tony nods immediately afterward, says, “Good talk,” and turns and walks away like he wasn’t expecting an answer—or at least, not one that he would like.

Steve doesn’t know what to do about that either.

~

“Do you think I’m in love with Tony?” he asks Natasha later that day when they’re relaxing on the couch while some mindless sitcom plays in the background.

Natasha blinks at him and then caps the nail polish she was using and puts it on the coffee table. “Do you think you’re in love with Tony?” she asks carefully.

He frowns at her. “That’s not what I asked.”

“Yeah, I’m not sure I should just tell you what to think.”

He sighs and takes another sip from his Coke, only to realize that it’s empty. Yeah, that describes his life pretty well. “I’m gonna get another one,” he says, standing up. “Do you want something?”

She shakes her head. It’s not until he’s in the kitchen, grabbing another Coke from the fridge, before she asks, “What brought this on?”

Steve thinks about the vulnerable look on Tony’s face as he said those three words. He probably wouldn’t like it if Steve told Natasha what they’d discussed. Or, well, he’d probably act like it was fine but he’d secretly feel hurt and might put the workshop into blackout mode again. Steve hates it when the workshop is in blackout mode. He doesn’t like that he can’t get to Tony when he’s feeling so terrible that he has to shut himself away. He wants to be there to support him, and he hates it when he’s the one who makes Tony feel like he has to close off the workshop.

“Nothing,” he tells Natasha.

She gets up to come into the kitchen, where she eyes him for a moment and then declares, “Tony finally told you, didn’t he?”

How does she always know?

“How do you always know?”

She smiles enigmatically. “I always know,” she says in that mysterious tone.

Steve glares at her. “Tony told you, didn’t he?”

“Maybe he did and maybe he didn’t.”

“One of these days, you’re going to have to admit that you two are friends.”

“Hmm,” she agrees. “But not today.” She hesitates, watching as Steve starts preparing a ham sandwich. “So Tony told you he loves you and you said?”

“Nothing,” Steve says with a shrug. “JARVIS, do you think it would be a good idea if I took this to Tony?”

“Sir has not expressed an explicit desire to keep you out of the workshop but I believe he would not appreciate you down there at the moment.”

Steve sighs. “Great. Could you send U up here to bring this sandwich down?”

“Of course, Captain Rogers.”

With that taken care of, Steve turns back to Natasha, following her back out to the living room. “I didn’t say anything because Tony didn’t give me the chance. He just took off.”

Natasha is quiet, studying him for a long moment. He knows what she’s thinking, since it’s probably the same thing he thought: that Tony was too afraid to hear the answer to give Steve the chance to respond. Eventually, she asks, “So how do you feel about it?”

“I don’t know,” Steve says honestly. “I can’t say I’ve ever thought about Tony like that before but—we act kinda coupley, don’t we?”

Before Natasha can respond, the previously bright sky outside goes dark. There’s a bright lightning bolt right outside the window, followed by the crash of thunder and then a loud rushing sound. It dissipates after a moment, the sky lightening again.

“Captain Rogers, Agent Romanoff,” JARVIS says, “Thor has returned to the tower.”

~

The Steve and Tony story goes something like this: instead of going on his planned road trip, Steve returned to the tower the day after the Chitauri invasion to offer his apologies to Tony about what he said on the helicarrier. Somehow—and he’s not sure how, even to this day—he found himself getting wrapped up in the tower repairs with a room of his own on one of the lower floors. And by the time those were done, Tony had apparently also redone some of the apartments near the penthouse as a headquarters for the Avengers. Steve hadn’t been lacking for options after the battle (the Army, in particular, wanted him back) but he’d moved into the tower permanently instead.

He and Tony had clashed a few times in those early days but once Bruce came back from wrapping up his affairs in India and Natasha and Clint left SHIELD to join them, they settled into a bit of a truce.

And over the semi-regular movie nights and the training spars and the late-night conversations after they both couldn’t sleep, that truce became a friendship and before Steve quite realized it, Tony had become one of his best friends. Slowly, Steve found himself being pulled out of the shell he’d withdrawn into after waking in this new century. Tony dragged him to lunch at new and exciting places, places that Steve could never have even dreamed of when he was growing up. They planned missions and training days together. Steve had even gotten adept enough at handling the press with Tony to feel confident accepting interview requests with him.

He hadn’t realized though that Tony had taken it as something more serious though. And now that he does know, he’s not sure what to do about it.

~

He eventually goes to Bruce, since Pepper is busy dealing with a business merger and Colonel Rhodes is out of town in some undisclosed location (though Steve is certain that Tony knows where). Bruce’s lab isn’t quite the wonderland of light and holograms that Tony’s is, but it’s still impressive to someone who grew up with nothing. Tony makes sure that Bruce has all the latest equipment so the lab is a gleaming marvel of sleek instruments with silver and white colors everywhere. It doesn’t look like the most soothing environment but the speakers pipe out some sort of piano music that Steve vaguely recognizes and there’s a teapot on one counter, keeping whatever Bruce is drinking warm.

Bruce is currently examining something under a microscope. Steve can make out what looks like a purple smear on the slide from where he’s standing in the doorway, but that’s it. Bruce doesn’t seem to have noticed him yet, even though JARVIS announced him, so he waits patiently until Bruce has rolled away from the microscope.

“Bruce, you got a second?” he asks quietly.

“Hey, when did you get here?” Bruce asks, offering him a tired smile. He waves Steve over to the teapot and offers him a cup.

“Just a couple minutes ago. I didn’t mind waiting,” Steve assures him. “What’s the blend?”

“Lavender and chocolate.”

“Sure, I wouldn’t mind a cup.” Bruce hands him the steaming mug. Steve has to add the sugar himself (only Tony knows how he prefers his tea).

“What brings you to my lab? Tony’s downstairs today,” Bruce says, fixing a cup of his own.

“I’m not looking for Tony. Not yet anyway,” Steve corrects. “I did want to talk about him though.” He hesitates and then decides to take the plunge. “Has Tony ever said anything to you about—ah—”

“About his feelings?” Bruce asks knowledgeably. “It’s come up a few times.”

Steve takes that to mean that it’s come up fairly frequently. Tony does like to overshare sometimes and trying to figure out what he’ll overshare about and what he’ll clam up about is about as accurate as trying to make one of Clint’s trick shots. “He told me today,” he begins carefully. “But he didn’t let me say anything.”

“Well, he wouldn’t,” Bruce says, like that’s perfectly reasonable and not absolutely surprising to Steve. He must see the confusion in Steve’s face because he adds, “He only just figured it out a few days ago himself, even though he’s been talking about you for months. I don’t think he was expecting you to feel the same way as him right after he realized it.”

“But why would he say it then?”

Bruce takes off his glasses, holding them in front of him as he thinks. “Tony—he’s got a weird relationship with love. He told me once that he thought he’d lost the chance to tell Pepper he loved her, first in Afghanistan and then with the palladium poisoning.”

“His parents,” Steve realizes. “He didn’t get to tell them either.”

“Exactly,” Bruce says, pointing at him with the glasses. “He doesn’t like to wait. So even though he knows you don’t feel the same way, he felt it was important to tell you.”

“What, in case I die tomorrow?”

“Or if he does.” Bruce must catch the stricken expression on Steve’s face as he smiles gently. “It’s not just about getting the feeling off his chest for Tony. It’s about making sure that you know you’re loved too.”

“Oh,” Steve says softly.

~

Normally, he would go down to the workshop to think about something that’s puzzling him but he doesn’t want to bother Tony right now. Instead, he goes to his second-favorite room in the entire tower: the library. The library was designed specifically by Tony for Steve after he mentioned how much he liked the tablet Tony had given him but how he missed paper books too. He hadn’t been angling for a library out of the conversation but Tony, generous to a fault, had immediately gotten to work on one.

It’s a beautiful room, completely incongruous with the sleek modern style of the rest of the tower, but perfect despite that. It takes up an entire two floors of the tower with balconies, a spiral staircase, and several sliding ladders for Clint to reenact a scene from some movie that Steve hasn’t gotten around to watching yet. Tony had done the room in dark wood with enough windows to make it feel light and airy instead of cramped. There are little nooks hidden among the shelves and a few window seats for anyone who wants to gaze out over the New York skyline while they read.

It’s perfect, made all the more so because Tony designed it for him.

“Steve, you should have realized how Tony felt sooner,” he mutters to himself as he settles on one of the cushy armchairs with his sketchbook. But how could he have? According to Bruce, Tony hadn’t even known how he felt until a few days ago.

He sketches as he thinks, no subject in mind until he looks down to find that he’s roughly sketched out Tony at his workbench, arguing with DUM-E over something silly. Steve smiles fondly down at the drawing, rubbing his thumb over the curve of Tony’s cheek. He remembers this argument. It had been a couple weeks ago. Tony had asked DUM-E to bring him a wrench and instead, DUM-E had brought him two screwdrivers, three hammers, and a level before finally bringing the wrench. It had made Steve laugh, which had just encouraged DUM-E. Tony had acted frustrated but he knows Tony well enough to know that Tony had been secretly proud about DUM-E’s personality, both for DUM-E and for himself. After all, as Tony said, any monkey could design an AI. It took skill to design one with character.

In his sketch, he’s drawn something of that conflict in Tony’s face—the frustration in the downward turn of his mouth but the pride in the twinkle in his eyes—and it only makes him more beautiful.

“Beautiful,” Steve repeats, awed at the thought. Tony is beautiful, when he’s tinkering, when he’s flying, even when he’s going toe-to-toe with Steve over something stupid (usually Tony’s self-sacrificial tendencies).

He flips through the book, taking in each drawing: Natasha, Tony, Clint, Thor, Tony, Bruce, Tony, Tony, Tony. “Yeah,” he murmurs, looking back down at the drawing he just finished again. He thinks he’s got it figured out.

He stands, tucking his sketchbook under his arm. “JARVIS, do you think Tony would mind talking to me now? I’ve got something important to tell him.”

JARVIS is quiet for a moment, then says, “Sir would be happy to see you.”

He makes his way downstairs, thinking about what he’s going to say, but as soon as he sees Tony—wonderful, beautiful, perfect Tony—playing with one of those incredible holograms he designed, the words fly from his mind and he blurts out, “I’m not in love with you.”

And then he winces. Yeah, okay, so he’s a bit of a disaster.

Tony looks hurt for a moment, but it’s quickly covered up with dramatic offense. Before Tony can make one of his infamous quips that’ll just make light of the situation, Steve crosses the workshop and pulls Tony’s hands into his, rubbing them gently with his thumbs.

“I’m not in love with you,” he repeats. “But I think I could be soon. I’m not where you’re at yet—my brain isn’t nearly as quick as yours, Tony, of course you’re a step ahead of me here too. But Tony, you’re on almost every single page of my sketchbook. We go on what we might as well call dates together. We talk for hours. I know you almost as well as I know myself. I’m not in love with you yet but I think I’m only a couple dates away from it, so you should take me out, and we’ll see how fast I can catch up.”

Tony is smiling by the end of his little speech. “How are you always so good at that?” he asks.

“I was born like this,” Steve says seriously, only to crack a grin when Tony laughs.

“No you weren’t,” Tony argues. “You were born small and spiteful.”

“And full of good speeches. But no one wanted to listen to a little guy like me so I had to bottle them up to use on you.” He pauses and looks down at Tony. “Um, not to pressure you, but does a date sound good?”

Tony thinks about it for a moment. “Depends. Where are you going to take me?”

“Oh, am I taking you? You’re the billionaire, shouldn’t you be treating me?”

Tony’s eyes darken as he purrs, “Only if you’re very nice.”

Steve shivers. He hadn’t really thought about how it would feel to have the full Tony Stark Seduction TechniqueTM turned on him, but he’s thinking about it now and it is absolutely delightful. “What if I’m not nice at all?” he whispers, hands tightening on Tony’s.

Tony’s smile turns downright filthy and he leans up to brush a kiss over Steve’s cheek. “Hmm, I’ll think of something,” he murmurs into Steve’s ear.

He’s not going to act like a caveman and take Tony to bed. He’s not. He’s going to—“Sal’s!” he blurts out, immediately regretting it when Tony takes a step away, brow wrinkling confusedly. It’s really cute. Steve wants to kiss it away.

“What?”

“Sal’s,” Steve says again. “Best burgers in Brooklyn. I want to take you there.”

Tony smiles again. “Sounds like a date.”

[ushidoux]

False Intimacy - Oikawa x Reader

Summary: You’re an escort that is quite good at her job but one particular client happens to catch you a bit off guard. (~1.9k words)

Warnings: minors dni, nsfw, fem pronouns, fem!reader, escort!reader, implied dom/sub dynamics, hurt/comfort

A/N: Ngl I was gonna write mean dom oikawa just cuz and then it got ~deep~ i’m sorry lmao

---

It was a colder night than usual in Buenos Aires, or maybe it was just the slight chill that ran up your spine when you remembered your client’s phone call just a couple of hours ago.

Please arrive at 8 pm sharp. I’m not a fan of tardy people~

His voice was honeyed before he cut off the phone abruptly - smooth and sweet as though masking some unpalatable part of his personality you hadn’t quite detected. 

Not that you would put your guard down anyway; most of the men you dealt with, either the extraordinarily rich, terribly famous, or some wretched combination of the two, were in some way dangerous. They all seemed to thrive on the same idea: that they had some power over others, and this could manifest in anything ranging from bratty behavior to a god complex.

But you could deal with these things well, you had been in the business for long enough. Oikawa Tooru was no problem.

He must have watched you arrive because the moment you stepped before his hotel room, taking a moment to adjust your hair and check on your makeup in a compact mirror before knocking, you heard the door swing open.

“You follow directions. Delightful,” he almost whispered, a sly smile on his face, shrouded in dark due to the paucity of light generated from a single lamp in his hotel room.

Had he been waiting, or was it the fact that he knew you wouldn’t disobey him?

You nodded.

“I’m quite compliant when I want to be,” you emphasized, in the sultry voice you reserve for meetings like this.

Oikawa’s smirk grew even wider. Hook, line and sinker. 

With the lack of continuation to your opening banter, you now started to wonder why he wasn’t moving; his frame, larger than you had expected in person, lingered in the doorway, seemingly blocking it and he made no indication of letting you inside. 

This was strange. Usually, it didn’t take long for your clients to undress you and have their way, at the very least a quickie before you actually went out with them, especially if they were having you meet first before the venue. There was a pause where you took a deep breath, trying your best not to look as disconcerted as you felt. What was he doing?

Oikawa was still staring at you, but not in the way your other patrons ogled you as though you were a piece of meat, nothing more than a purchased pussy. He stared at you with greed as though you were the most precious item in a set, and he were preparing to introduce his prized collection to a waiting crowd.

If it were an attempt to fluster you, you had to admit that he was close.

But not quite.

“Shall we advance to our location then?” You asked, sweetly. 

There was something like a snort that he made, derisive and slightly maddening. You raised an eyebrow reflexively, but instead gave him a wide, somewhat vapid smile. 

Good customer service. Men like him love power.

“Oh, are we planning to be fashionably late, Mr. Oikawa?” You said, tapping a finger to your lip and furrowing your eyebrows as though you were trying oh so very hard to think. 

“We’ll get there when we get there,” he replied. To your relief, he did finally lead you into the hotel room, into a wide suite that illuminated upon the clap of his hands, revealing a modern open plan setup with white on white furniture, fully glass windows that gazed onto the city skyline and bossa nova playing quietly from a speaker. You had barely heard the music it since you had been so focused on him.

Knowing that he was not a native of this country, you considered teasing him to re-stabilize power dynamics.

“This is Argentina, not Brazil, you know,” you teased, as you gently set yourself down on the edge of his couch.

He was the one to raise an eyebrow this time, as he circled around the bar island across from the living room.

“I mean about the music,” you said, with a soft laugh. He smiled.

“Of course.”

A pop of a wine bottle opening disrupted the tension between you two even further, and you crossed and uncrossed your legs with mild discomfort while watching him pour two glasses of red wine for the two of you.

“What’s your name again, darling? I have awful manners,” he said. 

You had the impression he was lying, but still you repeated your name for him.

“It’s a beautiful name,” he crooned as he handed you your drink.

---

If it weren’t for the fact that you’d watched him like a hawk as he poured out your glass of wine, you would have thought that he’d drugged you.

But you weren’t exactly drunk - not in the typical sense, but there was an altering of the senses that seemed to overcome you as the night progressed. Between the flashes of the camera as party guests filed in, a particularly lavish dinner, drinks, and a too-short dance where Oikawa literally whisked you off your feet, you were starting to feel less professional and more… needy. 

You guarded your heart well normally, so this was a new feeling for you, the sudden overwhelming need to fulfill your contract in the fullest. 

Quite frankly, by the time you had made it back into his private car, you were absolutely itching to be fucked. It didn’t help that Oikawa had grown comfortable enough over time with you to place the palm of his hand on your bare knee, his fingertips grazing your inner thigh.

He wasn’t looking at you by now, but your eyes were absolutely transfixed on him. He was talking on the phone quietly in an even Japanese, as though you weren’t even there, and by the sound of his soft laughter, his conversation must have been pleasant. 

The little bit of warmth between your legs as his hand suddenly moved up your thigh and then back down could only be called distressing.

---

“Did you enjoy yourself?”

Did you or are you? The fact that he was asking this, while kneeling between your legs, slender fingers gripped on both sides of your shaking legs, and licking slow, languid strokes from the opening of your vagina to your clit made it unfair for him to expect you to answer.

His kisses were slow in between questions and through waves of pleasure as his lips pressed against your privates, you managed to eke out a “yes.”

It felt wrong to be feeling like this, inappropriate as though you were using him rather than him using you. As his tongue dipped into your center, you even dared to let out a soft moan, which only encouraged him to plunge in deeper, tightening his hold on you as you threatened to clamp your legs shut.

“Calm down,” he ended up growling suddenly, and your stomach stirred with excitement. A sound so animalistic didn’t sound fitting for a man as elegant and soft-looking as him. In an attempt to mollify the sudden tension he could feel permeating your entire body in anxiety, he whispered, “Don’t worry, you’ll return the favor soon enough. Plus, you taste delicious.”

Your heart fluttered.

Once he’d savored you to his fill, he rose to stand between your legs, inserting those same meticulous fingers into your pussy before leaning over to transfer the taste of your own fluids to your lips.

How can he be so tender to a stranger? You thought briefly, as you melted into his kiss. You were getting carried away, down in dangerous, dangerous territory.

His hands kept working as his tongue teased yours.

Shifting quickly from pussy to the mounds of your breasts, his hands continued to massage your body while your lips remained locked, until he maneuvered himself on top of you. A warm, hard cock laid pressed against your belly and his, igniting more fire between you.

Put it in, put it in, your body seemed to scream, but you knew better than to demand. You’re here to deliver fantasies, not indulge in one, even if Oikawa did not seem to get the memo.

He made your toes curl and your spine curve before flipping you over so that you lay atop of him.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered, looking up at you as sincerely as one does an old lover. It was at this moment that you found yourself leaning forward to initiate the kiss before stopping yourself.

Distance was needed desperately. Remember, this was not a man who loved you.

You broke your demure act (which wasn’t really much of an act anymore) to pull back gently against the weight of his amorous stare, and slid downwards so that you could wrap your lips around his cock instead.

A blowjob is much less intimate, you told yourself. But you didn’t jump quite to that immediately.

Steadying your hand, now trembling almost as much as your heart was (what the hell was going on?), around his readied shaft, you glided your hand back and forth, aided by a few drops of precum leaking from the head and a generous amount of spit. You focused on his well-developed abs, not his eyes that were squeezing shut and the pretty mouth that groaned softly with every movement.

He was entirely too pretty for his, or your own good.

Why not a real partner? You wondered for a moment who you were standing in for. He touched you all too tenderly to be someone who cavorted casually. 

Even as you took him in your mouth, and his fingers made their way into your hair, tugging gently and praising you for how good you worked him up, bobbing your head up and down like the expect you were, you found yourself wondering. 

You took him deep enough to the point that you had to suppress a gag a couple times, and feeling the tightening of his grasp of your locks, you knew you did a good job.

“Fuck, baby, just like that.”

You considered maybe getting him to finish like this, in your mouth, so that you could go on your merry way and get as far away from this man that was already getting in your head as soon as possible, but he was pushing you off of him gently before you could get far enough. You ended up under him yet again, faster than you could bear.

His cock nudging its way against your folds on its way to your entrance made you shudder, and then he pushed inside you with another groan that was disgustingly beautiful.

Every thrust inside you felt like heaven but twisted; it felt far too self indulgent the way he wrapped his arms around you as his hips rolled against yours. He moaned your name, the name he asked for just hours ago, too familiarly as though he’d known you for a decade. The rhythmic slap of his skin against yours was hypnotic and you almost ascended as his arms raise your legs to dig into you deeper.

It’s too intimate, far from transactional, the explosive way you came around his cock, clawing at his markless back as you writhed around him, riding the wave of your orgasm. He pulled himself into a sitting position as you came, carrying you with him and holding you tightly as he followed shortly after. 

You could feel his cock twitch inside you.

And finally, you swore you could hear the name of the person he truly loved mumbled into the crook of your neck.

In response, you cling to him just a little bit longer.

[killem-all-if-they-wont-eat-cake]

“Once upon a time a young prince went riding out in the moonlight. The air was so light he felt that he was flying. The sky was deep blue, with a big white moon floating among small, curly clouds. Far away over the mountains, lightning flashed silently. The prince rode quickly, and in the moonlight his shadow was so large it looked like a giant unearthly rider.When the prince reached his castle, he dismounted and gave his horse to his groom, but he was reluctant to go in. With his riding crop in hand, he walked to the sea and began to stroll slowly along the sandy shore. He was not thinking of anything in particular, it was a pleasant and easy walk, and he drew deep breaths of the cool night air. Suddenly, while he was walking, he struck his riding-crop into the sand and felt the tip catch on something. What was it? A ring?A ring, thought the prince, and held it up to the moonlight. Who could have lost a ring here by the shore? It must have been one of the ladies-in-waiting. And so the prince tucked the ring in his breast pocket. It was a small ring, slender as a thread, with several little blue stones set to look like a forget-me-not.The court assembled in the great hall after supper, and the prince put his hand in his breast pocket and said: ‘Could any of you ladies by chance have lost a ring?’Immediately all the ladies looked at their hands. They had numerous precious diamond, emerald, and sapphire rings, and now they peered anxiously from finger to finger to see if any of their magnificente rings were missing. But they were all still there.‘What does your ring look like?’ a beautiful lady dared to ask.The prince held up the ring.When the ladies saw it, they put on superior and disdainful expressions. Certainly none of them would claim such a ring as that. It was nothing, a mere trinket, and so little it seemed made for a child’s hand.But now the ladies had something to talk about, and for the rest of the evening they busily compared their beautiful rings, passing them from hand to hand and exclaiming over their cost. The prince rose and strolled to the balcony, where he stood gazing at the moonlight.Later, he went to his chamber, undressed, and go tinto bed. He set the little ring on a table near him. Just as he was about to fall asleep, he heard a strange noise, a clicking and whirring as if a small insect were darting among the glasses on the table. When the prince opened his eyes, he was surprised to see that it was the little ring rattling around, as if an unseen hand had set it in motion.Quickly he lit a candle. Then the ring became still. But as soon as he blew out the candle, the ring began to dance again. It was strange and eerie. The prince put the ring in a drawer, yet he could hear it skittering all night long, and hardly slept at all. Of course he could have thrown the ring away, but for some reason, that seemed to him quite out of the question. He did not wish to part with the ring at all, and the next night too, he brought it to his chamber.Hardly had he snuffed out the candle then the ring began to dance again, and this time it did not just bounce about the table, but jumped to his breast and bounced just as quickly there.‘What can it mean?’ said the prince, and sat up in bed. He brooded and wondered. What kind of magic ring had he come upon with his riding crop? That evening he placed the ring on the table beside his bed as before. He was so tired that he fell asleep at once, but he had not slept long before he was awekened by something brushing his face, and instantly he realised it was the ring running back and forth over his forehead, dancing down his cheeks, and spinning along his lips.‘Now, I understand,’ he exclaimed, and jumped up. ‘I must find the owner of the ring.’Dawn had just begun to break over the sea when he went to the stable, saddled his horse, and thundered across the drawbridge. He rode all day without seeing anyone, but towards the evening he arrived at a large castle, beautifully situated in a green meadow surrounded by trees. Ivy and roses climbed the walls, and high in an arched window the lady of the castle was standing and looking over the countryside. She was a widow, but still a young and handsome woman, who ruled her large estates with a firm hand. When she saw the prince approaching, she dispatched a servant to greet him and welcome him to the castle.The prince accepted her invitation and gladly went in. The noble lady received him in the friendliest fashion. He was given a splendid chamber, and when he came to dinner he found that the large banquet hall had been lit with candles and torches. The table was laid with silver and gold. Servants in festive dress passed around delicious dishes, and the lady herself looked as distinguished as a queen in red velvet and ermine. She talked gaily, and seemed highly amused by all the prince had to say. He did not explain why he had ridden alone into the world, but now and then he cast a quick glance at the lady’s hands. Could she have lost the ring?But as it happened this noble lady had very large, very red, and very worn hands. Her carriage and walk were distinguished and imposing, so you could not doubt she was of noble birth, but when you caught sight of her big hands and lumpy fingers, you thought instinctively, these are the hands of a cook.She wore many costly rings on her fingers, yet they seemed badly out of place and only showed up her rough hands all the more. At the end of dinner, she peeled an apple for the prince, and looking sharply at her ring-bedecked fingers he asked, ‘You have so many exquisite rings, my lady. I suppose you could easily lose one by bathing or picking flowers?’‘I always take my rings off before I swim in the lake,’ she laughed. ‘And I never pick flowers myself, the maids do it for me.’The prince was silent for a moment, then he brought forth the little ring and showed it to her. ‘What do you think of this ring?’ he asked.‘That little ring,’ she said, trying to put it on her little finger. ‘It doesn’t go over the first joint of this finger. It seems to belong to a child. Where did you get it, your highness?’‘That I can’t tell you,’ the prince answered, and hid the ring in his breast pocket.The lady’s keen black eyes looked searchingly at him for a moment, then she began to talk of other things. And the next morning before dawn the prince rode from the castle.His eyes were on the horizon. A child, he thought –  a poor child. But where are you?He rode through forests and valleys, across meadows and fields, and when the sun was high he came to a large manor house set among waving wheatfields and beautiful flower gardens. Even at a distance he could see a number of people in a large courtyard. The sound of violins and trumpets reached his ears, and as he came nearer he realised it was a wedding.The bride and groom were standing on the front steps. The bride had a crown of bright ribbons and flowers on her head, and the groom had a silver buttoned-coat, a glossy black hat, and a happy smile. In the courtyard, a hundred young boys and girls were dancing merrily together. The prince reined his horse on a small hill not far from the manor house and began to watch the dancing. When the dancers stopped and sat down to rest, on benches under the large linden trees that spread their branches over the yard, he rode nearer.All eyes turned towards the strange rider who had appeared so unexpectedly. The prince held up his little ring.  He called ‘Is there any girl here who has lost a ring?’The girls flew to him like doves to look at the ring. ‘I have lost a ring!’ ‘And I!’ several cried, crowding close to the prince.But before long – ‘No, the ring I lost didn’t look like that one,’ said one girl after another, until they all began to babble and chatter, laugh and giggle, and the music started up again. They hurried back to dance, while the prince rode sorrowfully away.He rode on until evening when, feeling tired, he slowed his horse to ride along the bank of a river that cut through the meadows. Then he caught sight of a woman dressed in black, walking with downcast eyes as though looking for something among the stones by the road. As the prince drew nearer, he saw that the woman was very beautiful, but that the big black eyes in her pale face were full of pain and suffering. He was very sorry for her.‘What are you looking for, dear one?’ he asked. ‘Have you lost something precious to you?’The woman’s face became even more melancholy than before. She raised her eyes and her lips trembled. In a quavering voice, wringing her hands, she said, ‘I have lost all I ever had in life: my husband, my estate, my fortune. I had only one thing left, a ring that was a gift from my late husband. I had hoped to sell it well, but now I have lost it and I don’t know how or where. And so my last hope is gone, all that is left for me is to beg for my daily bread.’The prince’s heart was beating eagerly. Could she be speaking of the ring he was carrying at his breast? Yet all who had seen it had said it was worthless.    Slowly he held up the ring and asked, ‘Could it possibly be this ring?’    She gave him a sad smile. ‘My ring was set with a large, costly diamond. That little one there is nothing but a cheap toy.’    Then the prince opened his purse, full of gold coins, and let them rain into the bereaved woman’s arms. ‘Here, here is enough to provide for the present at least,’ he said gently. ‘This gold may help you.’ Before the woman had time to thank him, he rode off.    Who rode for days and nights without encountering anyone who recognised the ring. Always he carried it in his breast pocket, and though it no longer danced as it had during the first nights, he could still feel it tugging at him, as if sobbing quietly. The prince heard the small, sorrowful throbbing at his breast over the beating of his own heart, and every day he loved the ring more and more.One morning he came to a swiftly running river. On the opposite bank was a tall mountain, wrapped in the blue veil of early morning mist. All over its slopes sparkled what looked like little gold fires, but they were really broom bushes in flower, so attractive that the prince could not help feeling happy. He wanted to go to them and look more closely, but that would not be easy, for there was no bridge over the river.    I suppose I must swim across the, thought the prince, and he and his horse plunged into the rapids. The prince hardly noticed as water sprayed high above him and his horse was almost pulled downstream by the current. His long futile search had made him so dejected that he enjoyed having to struggle with all his might to get to the far bank. At last he stood there, tired and out of breath, with his horse panting and snorting beside him. The mountain rose before him.    The prince could not climb the slope on horseback, so he let the horse graze on a green meadow, and struggled on foot up a narrow mountain that wound through a forest towards the summit.    It was a hot day, and the shade of the trees in the cool forest felt good to him. Everything was still, the sun cast golden flecks over the forest floor, which was smoothed by last year’s leaves covering the knotted tree roots along the path. The climbing was not easy, though. What for? His heart was beating so violently that he could hear it, and he could also hear the heartthrob of the little ring, pulsing more than it had for a long time.    He paused for a moment, then climbed on.He thought he heard the sound of rippling water, and all of a sudden he realised how thirsty he was. Now at least he knew what he wanted: he wanted to get to the spring and drink and drink. The sound of the bubbling water came ever stronger, and then he saw something flash white under the leaves of the chestnuts. Two steps more, and he was standing by a fresh mountain spring that was gushing out a rock wall into the pool. Then he stood stock still; he was not alone.At the spring was a girl, one hand on her hip, watching as the water filled a pail she had set beneath it; another empty pail was in the grass nearby. The girl’s legs were bare, she was dressed in a short grey skirt and white blouse, and her hair hung down her back in two blond braids. The prince could not see her face, but when the pail was full, she turned in his direction. Her blue eyes looked surprised for a moment, but then she bowed her head in greeting, and put the second pail under the waterfall. When it, too, was full, she turned and hooked both pails to a yoke that lay in the grass. The prince smiled at her but she did not smile in return. Her face looked so quiet and serious that suddenly the prince, too, became serious.‘Forgive me,’ he said, ‘but may I have a drink of water? I am so thirsty.’‘What will you drink from?’ asked the girl. Her voice was soft and beautiful; it sounded like music. ‘I know,’ she said with a quick smile. ‘Come here, I will help you.’The prince went to the spring, and the girl put her hands together to make a small drinking cup. The water gushed into them and in a second they were full.‘Hurry and drink,’ she called, laughing merrily.The prince ended the little cup in a moment. With water still dripping from his mouth, he said, ‘More. Give me one more cup of water.’The girl closed her hands again, and they were filled by the spring. By this time when the prince bent down to drink, he noticed a curious change in the girl’s face. She blushed, and her eyes that before had looked as blue as summer sky, now seemed almost black. She snatched the chain from the prince’s neck and seized the ring, which had fallen from his breast pocket when he bent to drink.‘My ring,’ she said tremulously. ‘Where did you find my ring?’ She put it on the little finger of her left hand, and it went on as smoothly as it had come home. ‘My ring!’ she repeated, and looked at the prince with tears in her eyes.She sat on the grass under the low branches of the chestnuts, and turned the ring slowly around her finger with as much tenderness as if it had been a living thing.‘Why do you love your ring so much?’ asked the prince, sitting beside her.She looked up at him. ‘My mother gave it to me on the day she died,’ she said. ‘I was only a little girl, but she told me, ‘It will always help you in misfortune, and if you are ever in need, throw it into the sea. It will know how to find your saviour.’‘And it has found him,’ said the prince, smiling and taking the girl’s hands in his. ‘It called and beckoned me, and has not given me a moment’s peace until I found you here in the forest. But tell me, why are you here? How did you get here? What is your misfortune?’The girl looked around anxiously, and whispered, ‘I live here with an old mountain troll, who makes me work like a slave.’ And she told him the sad tale of her life.She had been born in a castle high among the mountains, and would have become a fine and noble princess, but her mother had died when she was a child; and when she was fifteen, a duke from another country captured the castle, murdered her father, and carried her away. Then she had lived in a tower of the foreign duke’s palace and was given the best of everything: costly gowns and delicacies, and numerous servants to wait on her. But she was never allowed to leave the palace. Only from a window in her chambers could she see the outside world of flowery meadows, green woods, and the river that wound like a ribbon of silver through the valley. One day the duke came to her room and told her that in three months she would marry his son.The girl looked at the prince with sad eyes, ‘It was the greatest misfortune and shame that could ever have befallen me. The duke’s son was big and coarse as a giant, his face was red, and he was almost always drunk. I would rather have died than become his wife.’    However, the girl had pretended that she would very much like to be married to the duke’s son. But first, she said, she wanted to make a gift of braided rope for the anchor of his sailing ship, and when that was finished she would happily become his wife. And so she began to braid a rope of the strongest hem she could find, and soon it was so long it reached from her window all the way down to the valley.     On the evening before the wedding, she locked herself in her little tower chamber, tied the rope to the window, and climbed down. When she reached the ground, she ran as fast as she could to hide in the forest. There she crept into a dense thicket and fell into a deep sleep.    Next morning she was awakened by a tickling on her forehead. When she opened her eyes she saw a terrifying face looking down at her. It was a troll of the mountain, who had been taking his morning walk through the forest, and he was poking her with a blade of glass. A long red tongue lolled from his mouth, and he had great fury black hands like a bear.    ‘I was so frightened,’ said the girl, ‘that I hardly dared to breathe.’    The troll had laughed horribly and said, ‘What luck to find you, little sweet one. I want someone to care for me, cook my food, carry my water and my wood and be my own companion.’ So the troll grabbed her by the hair and carried her to his cave on the mountain top. It was a deep black cave, and even on the hottest summer day it was cold as a cellar, and heavy drops of water trickled from the stones.    ‘I have served the mountain troll for three years,’ sighed the girl. ‘And every summer he tells me, ‘Next Christmas, when you are a little fatter, I will eat you.’    ‘So I hardly dare eat, and I have not thought of anything but how to escape. On a spring day I ran all the way down the mountainside to the river, hoping to cross to the other side. But there was no bridge, only the rapids and the spray. So I took off my ring and threw it into the water and called out as my mother taught me,    Ring, ring, pulse and spring    And my knight to me bring,    A knight so good, a knight so brave,    To rescue me, a helpless slave.’    ‘The ring disappeared into the water. But now,’ finished the girl, smiling, ‘the ring has found the knight who will help and save me.’ She kissed the ring.    ‘You kiss the ring,’ said the prince. ‘Do you think you would rather kiss me?’    ‘Do you think so?’ and then with a smile flung her arms around his neck and kissed him.    That moment they heard a strange, thundering sound.    ‘It is the troll of the mountain,’ the girl cried, and jumped up. ‘Quick! Quick! We must run as fast as we can.’    And quickly they sped down the mountain side to where the prince’s horse was grazing quietly by the river. Quickly the prince swung into the saddle, lifted the princess in front of him, and plunged into the water. Waves splashed over their heads, the horse panted and snorted and kicked the river, and the mountain troll in the forest howled and bellowed like a pack of hungry wolves.    The prince and the girl rode for days and nights through forest and plain, across rivers and brooks, past groves and hedges. The horse never tired until they reached the prince’s castle. They arrived there on a moonlit night, and rode slowly along the seashore, the princess wrapped up in the prince’s big cape. She lifted a corner of the cape and looked down at the sand. ‘How strange,’ she said, with a smile on her face. ‘Looking at the shadow, one would think there was only one rider on the horse.”– From "Ringen" by Helena Nyblom (1843 –1926) in "Bland tomtar och troll" (Among Gnomes and Trolls: a Collection of Swedish Folk Tales) edition 1914, Illustration  "Det var en gång en prins, som var ute och red i månskenet" by John Bauer (1882 – 1918).