#it's a small thing. it might take a few months to enact. but it will benefit thousands of students every year

[quantummindclassicalheart]

Direct link to the statement.

“At the same time, families across the country face excruciating decisions to relocate to a different state to protect their children from dangerous and hateful anti-LGBTQI+ laws, which target transgender children, threaten families, and criminalize doctors and nurses. These bills and laws attack our most basic values and freedoms as Americans: the right to be yourself, the right to make your own medical decisions, and the right to raise your own children. Some things should never be put at risk: your life, your safety, and your dignity.”

That’s an excerpt from President Biden’s Proclamation on Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgender, Queer and Intersex Pride Month, 2024.

In my lifetime, we’ve gone from the White House press secretary laughing uproariously at AIDS patients and making sneering accusations of members of the press corps only asking about AIDS because they were gay to POTUS supporting the rights of trans people, trans kids, in a proclamation of national recognition of Pride.

No, more plainly, we’ve come to this point in the last fifteen years.

The depth, breadth and speed of this progress is astounding, especially as it has coexisted with absolute regression and a constant state of attack of LGBTQIA rights from Republicans.

Do not take this for granted.

[cheemscakecat]

Ms. Red Mom [Short Fic]

Merriam had never been good at asking for help. Not from any of her judgmental family, and not from her exes.

Her latest ex, the Spy was no exception. After they broke up, she used the money he’d given her when they were together since it was there. But she rejected his attempts to send her more of it after they split. For a while he kept offering, and it ****ed her off. He even tried to fabricate a story and make it look like she won a prize, so she’d think it didn’t come from him. She was smarter than that. After she chewed him out, he didn’t try again.

She’d accept government aid. Food stamps. Lord knows the government owes it to everyone, with how much tax they take. It wasn’t easy to feed 8 boys, but she did it. They had to portion control, but it worked out. It was actually kind of nice to watch the boys hunting for clams and other seafood on the beach. Peaceful.

But then they got older, and they started to ignore her advice. One by one the older boys stopped appreciating the lessons she tried to teach them, and the frugal way they grew up. Maybe if she’d taken the **** money, it wouldn’t have been like this. But she never could ask for help. They joined gangs. Even after the first had to murder somebody to prove himself loyal, the others didn’t take it as a warning. They still followed suit.

Except for the youngest. Jeremy was always picked on by his brothers; for being small, for being too afraid to join the gangs, for being illiterate, for crying on occasion. She tried to defend him, and sometimes it even worked. But when they got old enough to convince themselves that the hard heart of a criminal was something to be proud of, there was nothing she could say to stop them.

Arthur got arrested. Henry snapped out of his delusions after the gang he joined went too far, and he helped the police catch his so-called friends. And his younger brother Jonas. Frankie fell in love with a woman who’d lost somebody to gang violence, and she warmed his cold dead heart. They fled to Canada to make sure his old criminal pals left them alone.

Henry and Frankie got clean and upstanding first. Arthur and Jonas eventually came to their senses in prison, and ended up moving to other states to start anew. The other three still hung around Boston and visited her sometimes, but they never wised up. That left Jeremy as the only one who never got caught up in a crappy gang.

He tried so hard to get a job and keep it. But he took his brothers’ cruel bullying to heart. And he’d never been able to focus in school. He’d keep a job for a few months and then loose it, then try again. From the age of 17 to 20, he tried to adjust to civilian work and stop relying on her. But he just couldn’t seem to do it.

That’s when she caught him engaging in street crime. Not the **** gangs, thankfully; this was petty crime. But it was a gateway for his brothers and she knew he could follow suit.

She’d thought of this before, but never trusted the others to follow through. But Jeremy had always respected her advice, and tried to make it work. So she worked up the courage to do it.

“The Gravel War? What’s that, some kinda re-enactment type thing?” He was holding the RED pamphlet in his hand. She couldn’t bear the idea of him working for BLU, not that he was likely to meet his father in battle. “It’s a mercenary war. They hire people to go fight each other over some petty issue. I been reading this thing, and it says there’s a respawn machine. So if you get killed in battle, you don’t stay dead.”

She kicked herself a little when Spy called her, saying Jeremy got assigned to the same team as him. But she knew deep down that this might be a blessing. Jeremy took after his father a lot, and he might just learn something she couldn’t teach by living with Spy and the other mercenaries. From what her ex told her, the team had nothing in common with the criminals her other sons hung around. None’a that peer pressure to “be hard” and murder innocent civilians. What the rest of the team did outside of work was their own business, but the war required them to kill other mercenaries, not random people off the street.

No, Merriam was never good at asking for help. But for once in a long line of mistakes, she made the right call.

[wyllwithay]

💌

Wyll/Astarion

Send an emoji and a pairing to my ask box and I'll write something for it! If you just send an emoji, I'll pick my own pairing

---

Love Letters Pairing: Wyll/Astarion Word Count: 838 Very much fluff that hints at something spicy

Wyll gets home from his adventures and discovers a secret that Astarion's been keeping

Standing and stretching, Wyll climbed from the bed that he and Astarion now shared. After several months on the long road, curling up next to his beloved was more than he could’ve asked for, even better was the rarity of being the one to rise first. He pulled on a set of trousers, not wanting to shock anyone he might pass on his way to get breakfast. He paused before he slipped out of the room, pressing a soft kiss to his vampire’s pale cheek and taking a moment to admire him. 

Food was easy to scrounge up, and coffee was welcome. He made his way back up to the room, not wanting Astarion to wake alone. He knew the other would not enjoy such a thing. There was a small table in their shared room, and he sat at it, sipping his drink and enjoying the feeling of not having to worry. For the first time in so long there were no monsters or villains to best. It was just himself, his love, and- he paused, noticing that one of the drawers of the desk wasn’t quite closed. 

He glanced to his lover, making sure that he was still asleep. He truly was, there was no trance, just a pleasant slumber. He gently pulled the drawer open, knowing that he really shouldn’t be snooping. After all, he had some ideas on how to wake Astarion. Something nagged at him though, and it was in that drawer. 

Inside it was tidy. All the papers were neatly stacked and tucked into place alongside two bottles of ink and several quills. At the back, was what looked like a bundle. With another glance to Astarion, he reached in and grabbed it. It dislodged with ease, as though it had been pulled out of place hundreds of times. As soon as Wyll saw it properly his heart raced and he could feel tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. 

He’d written to his lover as many chances as he could get, every day when possible. In his hand, tied with a well worn cord, was every letter. Some were more worn down than others, their corners folded and edges torn. Some of the parchments were slightly different colors, coming from lands far from Baldur’s Gate. There were even a few splattered with mud from being interrupted whilst writing. They were all there though, he was sure of it. 

He tugged one of the worn ones loose from the bundle, gently unfolding it. It was one he really didn’t remember writing, and considering the mess of his handwriting he hadn’t been particularly sober. He found himself blushing at his own words, and realizing he should’ve proofread before sending them. He recalled Astarion calling him silly for writing so often, now he needed to enact a playful revenge. If he were so silly for writing, then the other was just as guilty for keeping them. 

He carefully folded the letter, tucking it back into the stack where he thought it had been before. He stood and made his way back to the bed, intent on embarrassing the other for his sentimentality by showing him exactly how finding the letters made him feel. 

… 

My dearest Astarion

Tonight I felled a great beast. I do not quite recall what it was, as they’ve all begun to blur together. So many adventures await in these lands, and yet my mind has only one thing on it. I’m sitting at a party now, listening to a bard sing and drinking with the locals. The wine is sweet, but nowhere near as sweet a kiss from you. 

I miss you my darling. These lands are strange and wonderful, but your body is what I wish to explore. The day I arrive home to you I will trace every curve and crest of you, whether by my hand or tongue I know not. I shall keep you in bed until I’ve heard every song you can sing, and then I shall make you sing them again. 

There are a thousand stars in the sky tonight, but none of them could ever shine as bright as you. Their beauty can’t begin to compare to moonlight on your skin. They take me back to the night when we threw the curtains open, and I pressed you to the window. The way the night sky framed you, as if you were artwork the gods made only for my eyes, is a sight that I could never forget. I find myself sitting, wanting nothing more than to wax poetic for hours. If only your ear were here for me to whisper it into. 

One day soon I’ll be back with you. I promise you that. Tomorrow I start my journey home. I shall spend every night thinking of the time I wish to spend with you. May we spend many nights tangled in each other's arms, not sure where we end or begin.

I love you. I’ll be home soon. 

Wyll

[nokingsonlyfooles]

DO SOMETHING

Let me get this out of my brain, it's been there for a few days, festering:

Pregnant people are becoming "radioactive." A pregnant person might have a miscarriage or need an abortion to save their life, and either of those things could send a doctor to jail now. So it's easier to just not treat them. Lack-of-treatment means more miscarriages and deaths. This, from the right-to-life folks.

And the response:

Let the corrupt Supreme Court make it worse...

...and demand voters elect a congress "that supports their right to choose"...

...because we can't do anything now. And there's no plan in the works to fix the filibuster, so he'll require THIS congress. Biden needs you to deliver the Blue Wave of Obama's first term, for Biden's second term, minus the Manchins and Sinemas who'll jump ship at a whisper of progressivism, while there's a genocide going on that he okayed, and THIS TIME, democrats have learned their lesson and will fight for your rights instead of fighting each other so the conservative ones still get elected in their purple districts. (Gee, we could theoretically pass anything... How 'bout Romneycare?)

And if they don't deliver a law that gets past both houses of congress and the same Supreme Court that struck down Roe v. Wade in the first place, the consequences will be...? What? I know a lot of people will die, but I mean the consequences for the politicians and their power. 'Cos I'm seeing a long string of elections where the only option to "save democracy" is to Vote Blue No Matter What. So what are we gonna do? Egg their houses? Even that's uncivil!

We're still operating as if the system is fair and functional and we can fix this by working within it at the most apathetic level possible.

Pregnancy is notoriously time-sensitive. In many cases it may be as urgent as Palestine's need to eat. People will die while this issue is being shunted into the future as an excellent way to get votes. People have already died. Some people will need to die for the sake of the win, and this time they may be near enough for you to see them, and care about them as individuals. It's been like this for two years and we had advance notice the Supreme Court was going to do it to us. Please tell me what's going to change. Something more than "if you don't elect THAT MANY democrats, its YOUR FAULT."

I can't fix this on my end. I'm distant and small. We couldn't come up with any better way to stop being complicit than to take our money out of the system, but the cost is that I'm easier to ignore. I don't know what to do. But I hate how it is.

I hope something, somehow, falls into place and fixes this. But I don't trust it to just do that because they say they want it. To have hope, I need to see ideas for change, not more of the same.

[chaosnocontrol]

Sonic oc junk

uh

Uh

Silly sonic oc introduction thing?? I guess

This is Kira, aka Kurai

(the more I look at this shitty drawing, the more I feel like I can't draw )

Backstory under the cut, for those who wanna read it :)

Ok so uh, his backstory is still being rewritten, due to the fact that the last 2 I did didn't make much sense, and he was too emo to me, soo.. Yeah, but his backstory now goes something like this:

once apon a time, a hedgehog scientist and a normal wolf lady fell in love ,they get married, blah blah blah, The hedgehog scientist starts to experiment with dark Gaia energy, testing how it affects the mobian body, (this taking place WAY before unleashed) but his reaserch is inconclusive, but just as he started losing hope,getting desperate , he did the unthinkable. He did the experiment on his (sence pregnant) wife, and it worked, just not in the way he expected it to, as it turned her into, what whould be deemed a monster (Basically a werehog but wolf, a werewolf if you will,) and instead of attempting to find a cure for his were-Wife,like a decent husband, He, basicly left her.

So now, the very much pregger single-mom is essentially hated and hunted by the village she once lived in, due to her new form(its in like,very late 90s- early 2000s-ish, and that village was isolated as hell ), so much so , its was to the point that people made folktales about her, (although folktales about beasts in that area were rather common ) and while that was happening, she basicly had to take care of this child, with little to no parental experience, and no one to help her, in the middle of the woods(and probably too stubborn to just give up or ask for help), she did her best to raise this child on her own, skipping a bit through the story...were-wife finds her deadbeat husband, and uh," accidentally" murders him...skipping through more of the story, her child is now, about, four, and she's been doing a surprisingly good job parenting. But remember the folktales? Well now people are claiming to have seen a beast in the forest, causing people to start actively hunting for said beast, and well, it was a bad few months to be a werewolf single mom cuz uh. She got confronted by said hunters, she defended herself(And probably killed one of them..), she was critically injured in the exchang, she retreated, they tracked her down and finished the job..Darn! Right in front of her four year old child! I'm sure that won't cause any issues in the future..

Time skipping a few years.

Kira is like 7 now and has no friends. Nor family (That he knows of :) )

And has just been living off the trash of the local village, small rodents, and the occasional fish, and the locals think he's some sort of creature or pest and children tease him for being weird.

And one day, he met a person,or rather, a fox. Briana fox to be specific (her name is still a wip and might change)an aspiring scientist and engineer who happened to be passing through the village. Blah blah blah, she takes this child under her wing

Yet another timeskip,later..

Briana, at this point, has been working on a project, a project to change the world. (Literally) observing the constant loop of interaction between sonic and eggman: eggman creates a deadly machine, sonic,+Co stop and destroy it, the world continues to constantly be destroyed and rebuilt, and in the eyes of Briana, its like a spiral of ants. Constantly circling in an endless loop untill the inevitable demise of the planet . And she's sick of it. So she devises a plan to enact whats known as the "Genisis wave", using the power of the chaos emeralds, and a machine of her creation. With the assistance of Kira, (whom she re-named "Kurai" after experimenting and geneticly modifying him),and others (Who are still being worked on,but might be revealed in due time )

Those assisting Briana in her hunt, were modified to be able to fight spasific people in sonics "Immediate friend group" (That of whom she just assumed were friends with sonic)

Kurai/ Kira was then modified to be able to go toe-to-toe with sonic himself, matching his speed with his spetilized Water Based "Air shoes" (shoes??? Boots???I don't know anymore), and semi elastic limbs (I wonder where did those come from..)

and thats it! I think-

Thank you for listening to me rambling about my sonic oc :)

ALSO PLEASE EXUSE MY SPELLING MISTAKES AND STORY INCONSISTENCIESh, I WROTE THIS AT LIKE 4 IN THE MORNING-

heres a Kira doodle icon thing for your troubles :)

also, fun fact, if you Google his name, one of the first things that oops up is his old ass wiki page from over 2 years ago that I wish they would delete and I need to rewrite. But I have no fucking clue how . :,)

[little-mouse-adventures]

All this OC talk… now you’ve got me curious- tell me a little bit about your OCs, if you would like!

:3

the thing is. the OC's that have been rattling around in my brain for like... five months? are NOT part of the fic I am 3/4 of the way through writing. So that's been fun.

But they won't get out of my head, and I like them a lot, so I'm gonna natter about them. (They also show up in this fic, and I keep thinking I might expand on that... I also have another fic idea I might put them in, because they're my OC's and I can put them in any world I want, but their backstories would be pretty much unchanged).

uh. this got long, so things are under the cut.

Ji-hun (Jimmy) Kim: Mid-40's, Korean-Canadian entrepreneur. Born the second son and third of four children to the leader of a Canadian based Korean crime family. He cut ties with his family in his late 20's and basically started his own little criminal empire. He quit that a few years later after his adopted sister Delaney nearly died from his bullshit and he nearly died because she wasn't there to protect him, and he went mostly legitimate into the fashion industry. He started going by Jimmy at that time, with only a very, very small number of people allowed to call him by his given name.

He puts on a pretty non-threatening and almost campy public persona. In reality, he's a highly intelligent and shrewd businessman and learned long ago that being a flashy, non-threatening person allowed him to get in close for Hello hugs and walk away with the other person's watch, wallet, and phone, which he can then mine for information to use later. Mainly focuses on fashion, though splits his time between high fashion and couture collections and practical wear for mundane combat - clothes that look casual and normal, but are actually tailored to carry multiple weapons or protect from bullets or knives.

Generally pretty easy-going, but he does have a temper, and is willing to hold grudges. He doesn't let them get in the way of work, but he certainly doesn't forget any wrongs against him or those he cares about, which is mostly just like two people total. Has majority stakeholder interest in a few ventures outside of fashion, a few electronic parts manufacturing companies, owns and operates a few exclusive clubs, that kind of thing. He goes a bit squirrely if he's bored, which can happen easily. He always needs a project, whether that's designing a new dress or pouring over tech magazines to figure out which microchip manufacturer to invest in next.

Delaney Winters: Early 40's, Jimmy's adopted sister and bodyguard/ personal assistant. She met Ji-hun when she was twelve and her father sold her to Ji-hun's mother to be trained as an escort/ intel agent to pay for his gambling debts to the crime family. She learned the skills, but was a bit too scrappy for the graceful, accomplished look the crime family wanted in their people, so she started training as a fighter. Ji-hun was in training at the same time - his mother didn't care for that as she wanted him to take on the medic role for the family, but he never really got along with his mother. He and Delaney got along like a house on fire and quickly became inseparable, so they were partnered together. It also worked well as cover: each had a "date" for fancy events where they would attend to perform assignments for the family from gathering information, committing heists, or enacting assassinations. This led to a lot of rumours about Del and Jimmy being romantically involved - they absolutely are not, but they don't do much to discourage the rumours.

Del is nearly always in high heels, and never (unless she's completely relaxed at home, and even then it's iffy) has her hair down. It's a dangerous game, to have long hair in a world where it can get caught or pulled in a fight or left behind as evidence, but she likes it anyways so keeps it.

She has less of a temper than her brother, and is more willing to forgive people. She's also willing to negotiate more, which, partnered with her love of old-fashiond Colt single action army revolvers, earned herself the nickname The Peacemaker. Likes dancing and daisies and houseplants - she sometimes wants a simple, normal life, but worries that it would drive her crazy with boredom. So for now, she's fine running around the globe as the bodyguard/ PA for her brother. She can be very charming when she wants to be, but mostly plays the straight man to her brother's goofball persona, and can be sharp-tongued and sarcastic. She's loyal to a fault - literally.

Marcus: Haven't sorted out his last name yet, but he's Ji-hun's love interest and eventual husband. Mid to late 40's. He's a chef, and runs a few high-end restaurants and does some catering, but he's just like... a normal dude. No criminal ties, no dangerous past. The worst thing on his background check is that he had a couple DUI's and speeding tickets in his early 20's. Very calm personality, almost surfer-dude-esque. Keeps his hair long (for a dude, it mostly hits his shoulders), and enjoys experimenting with different recipes. Eventually he and Ji-hun adopt two kids together and he is hands-down the less stressed parent - probably because he's the only one who had an actual decent upbringing lol.

[mithliya]

hi! i’m actually nervous to be typing this because i’m always afraid of what people think of me being in feminist spaces (weird i know), but anyway i had an online argument today in a space where i have frequented for a few years. this space has a good amount of LGBT people within, but mainly TIMs. this online space is actually one of things that made me peak as of recent.

the argument started on how one of the TIMs says a twitch stream with someone in a dog cage getting some donations, and they claimed they wanted to do it too. one person mentioned how being humiliated for pennies doesn’t seem right, and i agreed. i said maybe instead of selling your body for less, you could work at somewhere like mcds because even most OF workers only make ~$150 a month, which is barely anything. a lot of people got mad and livid. “it’s my choice. so what if i want to sell pics and stuff?!” i tried to explain why the act of selling your body for barely anything isn’t worth it (even if i didn’t want them to sell their body at all because SW is exploitation), and many got mad again. even though they were a TIM and probably wouldn’t understand where i was coming from (spoiler : they didn’t), the main thing i was trying to combat was the idea that choices are made freely with no influence, only based on the person’s (i used women actually) wants. after arguing for an hour, where people probably thought i was annoying, the argument finished. i didn’t get through that TIM and probably many of the others because i still had people making jokes about me afterwards, but i’m glad i got to say what i believed in and maybe someone was reading/lurking and will think about it some more?

i say all this to say that while i might not be a rad-fem (because i’m OSA with a male partner), i hope to combat and empower women. since i work in a school, maybe i could make some kind of club one day where it’s all about girl’s understanding what they can do and more. for now, i think i’ll read more literature.

p.s., this space is mainly males (ofc), so i felt kinda pressured to shut up, but i didn’t. a lot of them couldn’t understand my experience, so i was just “preaching” to emptiness. that’s okay with me, but it shows me even progressive men will laugh at a woman fighting to be heard.

good on u for speaking up and standing ur ground! many of those people try to use bullying and intimidation, so im not surprised they did that to you but its awesome that youre taking these opportunities to try to enact some kind of small change <3

youre right about progressive men. unfortunately most of them are all talk

[ramshacklestar]

@mostrohost sent ||

"I admire your gumption, Yuu." He admits softly, setting down one of the house sampler platters down before her and distracting Grim with a heavy-looking dish of sautéed bluefin tuna. To her, he adds, "One might hope that one day you needn't have to deal with life or death situations regularly. Should you be in dire straits, or simply in need of a friendly presence, remember that my door is open."

Reaching out, he gently patted the back of her hand, dropping a brief, light kiss against the top of her head before straightening up.

"Hard work deserves a reward, after all, don't you think?" He smiles. "For your efforts, please enjoy a meal on the house."

It wasn't as though it was a secret that Yuu wasn't magic in any way and the only thing she really could do was enact order with her ever expanding group of freshmen friends. Each new blot seemed to cause more trouble and though she was glad to be back from the STYX facility she still felt exhausted by the whole endeavor, and the fact that Ramshackle was still a pile of what it once was hadn't helped. She was ever grateful for the fact that Vil had opened Pomifore to her and Grim, though she had no doubt that Vil was growing tired of the feline-beasts complaints and constant trouble making which in turn made the peace she'd hoped to get upon returning to NRC a far off dream. Dragging Grim along with her so he didn't start anymore problems for their temporary hosts Yuu paced into the Octavinelle mirror immediate relief flooding her once the ambient sound of the music that played in Mostro Lounge along with the beauty that was offered when looking out the large window into the sea.

Initially she had only planned to purchase a drink or something small for Grim so she wasn't loitering and of course because their budget for the month had taken quite the toll. Waiting for one of the wait staff of the lounge she pondered for a moment which of the twins it might be coming to her. If it was Jade he'd just take her order and bring back whatever ordered, if it was Floyd chances were she'd be in a position where she'd owe Azul money again. The eel was an instigator of sorts on Grim, and he knew it left Yuu in a place of frustration, which seemed to really amuse him.

Who she hadn't expected to see however was Azul, nor had she really expected the underline tone of caring. They had grown closer granted, but she'd just always thought he'd leave her at arms length. "As long as I'm here chances are that will be a normal occurrence." She lightly laughed at the irony of it all truly not knowing what she would do should she be stuck here forever.

"I appreciate that Azul, I'll certainly continue doing just that." He was easy to talk to, and though only slightly older he was still her upperclassman and being a native inhabitant of this world gave her access to knowledge. Usually it was at a cost, but it was fair of him to ask something of her when the question or the inquiry was a difficult one.

"Oh hey you actually used my name too, guess that really must mean we've grown close." She spoke with a hint of excitement ignoring Grim's scoff as he took to shoveling the food provided into his mouth as if Azul was going to take it back. However, that excitement was quickly fizzled out upon the receiving of a kiss from him; in honesty she actually stared at the man for a few minutes her face gradually growing in color. It may have just been her head, but of all the things to do she hadn't expected this, much less from him. First Vil and now Azul? Really?!

"Wh--I--you." Her voice came out as a sputtered mess, the words she was trying to speak incoherent all previous concerns over her friends fighting gone in an instant. As far as she was concerned in that moment it was only her and Azul in the lounge, why was she so embarrassed by this? Vil kissed her cheek and all Azul did was kiss her head, one was slightly more intimate than the other but perhaps it was because of her connection with Azul over Vil who she just reasoned it to be a celebrity just gifting one of his fans. There may have also been a hint of her adoring Azul more than Vil, having known him longer, but that was a truth she wasn't sure if that really had anything to do with it either and it was just her. "Um..I mean t-thank you."

[after-witch]

Of Mice and Men [Yandere L x Reader]

Title: Of Mice and Men [Yandere L x Reader]

Synopsis: It’s not your first escape plan. But it is the first one that involves attempting to seduce your captor in a bid for freedom. 

Word Count: 2777

notes: yandere, NSFW, dubcon, mentions of stalking/stalker behavior

It’s not the first time you’ve plotted an escape. You’ve tried a few dozen times, though you--obviously, considering where you still are, and who you’re still stuck with--have yet to succeed.

But this time… this time you’re going to play L at his own mind games. Mind-fuck-games, more like it, and the sarcastic phrase has so much more meaning now that you’ve decided on what you’re going to do.

You’re going to seduce L.

It sounds crazy, you know. But if you can get him to lower his guard enough, then there will be a beautiful, sordid window of opportunity opened up. And you will take that window of opportunity and jab him with the tranquilizer lifted from his stash months ago, kept safely tucked away until you could make use of it. And once he’s knocked out, you’ll grab the card key from his pocket, and get the hell out of here.

You just have to seduce him first. Oh, it wasn’t your first choice. Or your second. Or your third. But it hit you all at once on a summer evening, when you were sitting together on the sofa, watching some news program. He shifted, and his thigh accidentally brushed against yours--the noise he made was some sudden, strangled little choke that got the wheels turning in your head quick as anything.

And it hit you. L was pent up. Somewhere underneath there, deep, deep… maybe really deep. Sure, L has never tried to kiss you or touch you on his own; it was something you feared during your early days of captivity, but the most he did was invade your personal space. That didn’t mean he didn’t want you, did it? He did obsess over you enough to stalk you and kidnap you and keep you like some kind of fucked up pet, after all.

The theory is worth a shot. It’s not like you have a lot of options, after all.

You start small. You know that if you jump right into it, he’ll notice right away and the entire thing will fall apart like wet paper. So little things come first. You brush against his shoulder on the couch, and apologize for it. You glance at him a bit longer than you normally do, and look down when he sees you.

You dig out the perfume he’d pilfered from your apartment and graciously packed along with some of your other personal items, and spritz yourself in the morning. He notices, and compliments it, and you sheepishly thank him. You start baking chocolate treats and insisting on making him coffee--you remember, vaguely, reading that they were aphrodisiacs. Every little bit helps, right?

And then you move up to bigger, badder things. Things that make your stomach squirm to ask about, but they’re necessary if you’re going to enact this plan of escape.

You ask him to bring you some… items. Special item. Toys--sex toys.  You used to have some. He brought them along with the other things from your apartment, packed up neat as anything. Soon after, on a morning when he casually explained that there were cameras in the bedroom, in any place that you might bring said toys and enjoy them yourself, you threw them out in disgust.

And now, you have new ones, courtesy of a bewildered yet graciously providing L.

Not because you plan on using them--you never did ask if there were cameras in the bathroom, the only possibly sanctuary from L’s prying eyes where you might actually break them out, but you don’t really want the answer.

But because you want him to notice the shift in your behavior. The way you bite your lip, now and then, at a steamy scene on the television. The way you scoot closer to him, of your own free will, letting your thighs touch and waiting to hear his almost undetectable intakes of breath. The way you idly touch the toys he’s giving you, as if thinking… wanting.

But wanting what--or whom? You hope it’s a question he’s asking himself, because if he is, it will make it all the easier to make him malleable in your hands.

The night you first kiss him gives you something far sweeter than any dessert, something you haven’t tasted in so long: hope.  Because when you lean towards him and press your lips against his, he lets out a soft, startled noise. His lips are warm and dry and a little bit chapped. You watch through lidded eyes as his own widen, as he stiffens against you, muscles tense. And then bit by bit, his body relaxes, and his mouth moves against your own.

It’s a start.

--

Weeks. You’ve been working on your plan for weeks. You’ve kissed. You’ve made out, clumsily--you don’t suspect that L has much experience in this area--and softened yourself to him, bit by bit, letting him think that the whole “kidnapped by an internationally renowned genius and kept in isolation for months and months and months” thing has finally become normal to you.

And now… now you’re going in for the kill (literally, you wonder? You have no idea how much tranquilizer someone can take and still survive) and it’s making you nervous and excited and absolutely sick to your stomach.

The bed is wide enough for the both of you, and lately, you spend the evening  closely side by side. You’re stretched out in your short silk nightgown, pretending to read a novel, while he’s flipping through some papers on a case he’s been working on.

After a while, you set the book down on your nightstand, and lay quietly beside him.

“L?”

“Hm?” He doesn’t look up from his work, and you don’t expect him to.

Your hand feels for the thin string of your nightgown, tugging it down, just a little. Just enough to expose the top half of one of your breasts, should he look--when he looks.

And then your deft fingers move on, tracing up his arm, tickling through his white shirt. Slowly, itsy-bitsy-spider, with a far different aim.

He pauses, and glances down at you. If he feels any particular way about the way you’re pushing your breasts towards him, he doesn’t show it. Not yet.

“What are you doing?” It’s asked casually enough. Like you are, perhaps, wandering into the kitchen in the middle of the day rather than laying there in your thin nightgown, eyes lidded, lips pouting.

“Do you remember,” you begin, looking coyly up at him, “How I used to… use my toys? Back at my apartment?” You don’t bring up that he knew about your bedroom habits because he was a stalker who installed cameras inside your place.

His gaze darkens. His eyes flick down at your chest, then back up at your eyes.

“Yes, I recall.” And is it your imagination, or is his voice thicker now?

Your fingers dance back down his arm, tracing circles--shy, perhaps, or teasing.

“It’s been so long since I did that. You bought me my new ones but…” You pout, just a little. “I don’t think I want to do it alone.”

His movement is swift and sudden and unexpected. In moments, he’s straddling you, hovering over you, face directly in front of yours. He reminds you of a cat. No personal space and certainly no qualms.

“What are you doing?” He asks, voice a little more pointed. He’s not pinning you down physically but you feel like you can’t move at all. “You’ve been acting strange for some time. Touching me. Kissing me. And now bringing up your previous proclivity for…”

There’s no time like the present to make a move, is there? So you lean forward and brush your lips against his, interrupting and silencing him.

“What?” You murmur, petulant but not angry. “You don’t want to help me?”

His muscles are stiff and tense until they’re not, until his body is practically melting against you. His mouth opens to make some noise and you slip your tongue inside; the sound he makes, the connection of your determined tongue with his hesitant own, makes something twist in your stomach. It’s not disgust, and that scares you, but you press on.

As your kiss deepens, his fingers grip your nightie, pulling it down boldly and exposing your bare breasts. You don’t think about it until you feel his fingers groping, awkward and exploratory and eager. His fingers pinch your nipples and you squeak into his mouth. The sensation of his lips turning up into a smile should piss you off, but instead you feel something tight shooting down  your stomach straight between your legs.

Christ almighty.

When was the last time you kissed someone like this? When was the last time someone touched you, held you, without then pinning you down so they could jab a sedative into your unruly shoulder?

That sensation of delightful tugging down your stomach only increases as his fingers go from awkward pinches to rubbing, circling your nipples as they begin to get stiff and achey with a sensation that you haven’t felt in ages.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

When you pull away from his mouth, you expect what you see: his eyes, lidded and hazy with your kiss but determined nonetheless. He’s thinking, analyzing, wondering what you’re doing and why and he’s probably already calculating the probability that this is all some ruse to try to incapacitate him, isn’t he?

But you can’t bring yourself to worry about being found out. No.  You can’t bring yourself to think about anything right now but a persistent, growing need between your legs.

It’s… been a while. Since you’ve been touched. Since you touched yourself, even.  You haven’t had an orgasm in months, actually, or has it been more than a year? And right now, it’s like your body is waking up, slowly, groggily, as something begins to say: hey, remember this? Remember the feelings of pleasure that come with someone touching you in all the right ways? Even if it was more often just you alone in bed, toys buzzing, hands searching, toes curling at the end of it?

You swallow, throat thick.

“L, have you ever…” you let the question dangle. “Before?”

He averts his gaze, but the answer that comes out of his slightly swollen lips surprises you.

“Yes.” And then he adds, thoughtfully. “Only as an experiment.” He regards you with an expression that you can’t decipher in  your current state. “Have you?”

And he knows the answer. And he knows that you know he knows the answer, because he was your fucking stalker. He saw every date you came home with, probably had footage of the times you hooked up, too.

You shuffle away the feeling that comes with remembering his violations. You’re supposed to be seducing him, aren’t you? You have to get back on track.

“Why don’t we do a little more, then.” You say, wetting your lips with your tongue, letting yourself fall back into the groove.

The moment your hand palms his semi-erect cock through his pants is the first time you’ve seen him look truly stunned. Not just surprised. But genuinely, absolutely stunned. He shudders, closing his eyes, letting his mouth drop open just a little. And seeing that, seeing the effect you’re having on him, sends something through you, too. Something squirmy and pleasant and forbidden.

There’s a voice in the back of your heat that shouts: Hey! Dummy! Did you forget? This is the perfect opportunity to grab that fucking needle and jab it right into him!

But you tell that voice to hush, you remember, you didn’t forget.. just hush, all right?

Because the thought of touching him, of him touching you, is becoming less of a chore and more appealing by the minute. And he’s probably still wary, isn’t he? You need to keep going before you can pull that syringe out. Of course you do.

“Let me make you feel good,” you murmur, half to him, and half to yourself, as you continue to work his increasingly hard cock through his pants.

You move in for another kiss, and he groans into your lips when your hands work their way around, cupping his balls with a needy firmness. Now it’s your turn to smile against his mouth.

“Feel good?” You ask.

His breath stutters against your skin.

“It’s… pleasurable,” he says, and the breathiness in his voice goes straight through you.

When you move to grope him firmly again, he catches your wrist. There’s a split second of terror, the sure thought that he’s now going to calmly tell you that he knows what you planned and he knows about the needle. But instead he lets go and pushes down on your shoulders,  until you’re leaning back against the pillows.

“I’m going to touch you now,” he says. And only L could make this sound clinical and remote, despite the fact that his erection is straining against the fabric of his pants, bits of wetness from his pre-cum seeping through.

You squirm as his hands reach for the end of your nightgown, but not because you’re afraid. You squirm because you realize that you’re wet. There’s something pleasantly humiliating about the way he slowly pushes the nightgown up your stomach and gazes, studious, at the lacey panties underneath. It’s a pair you haven’t worn since he took you, all red lace.

“Minx,” he murmurs, approval in his tone.

You bring your knees up a little, perhaps egging him on, and he responds by tugging down your panties. You can feel some of your slick wetness cling to the fabric as he pulls them down, and it’s embarrassing and arousing all at the same time.

Soon… right? Soon it will be the perfect opportunity to take him out. That’s what the little voice in you says, and you only barely hear it.

His thumb finds your clit and you don’t know if it’s his technique or the fact that you haven’t touched yourself in so long, but it’s heaven. It’s hot and coiled bliss all directed towards your aching clit. His thumb is calloused each circular rub of your clit comes with harsh, jerking spasms of pleasure that make your legs feel like jelly. Tears trickle from your eyes before you know it, and you groan.

And then he lowers his head in between your legs and gives a few tentative licks to your pussy, exploring the lips and ending, with the lightest of licks, at your clit.

Now--now would be the perfect time, wouldn’t it? When he’s distracted, his head down and occupied? Your hand could so easily reach underneath the mattress and grab it and stick it in him but oh fuck, he gives a soft suckle to your clit and you practically wail, throwing your head back and bucking against him. He pulls away, and you look down to see the smallest of smiles on his lips, wet with your own juices.

“More--fuck--more!” Your thighs tremble and he pulls away, perhaps admiring the view, perhaps admiring his handiwork.

But he doesn’t lower his head back down, and you find yourself whining--keening--as he crawls up the bed and leans over you. His hair tickles your cheek. His eyes are wide and dark and hungry.

“What shall I do with you?” There’s something glinting in his voice and your stomach squirms--does he know? Does he know?--but the ache between your legs is so strong that it drowns out anything else. You want to be touched. You want to feel good. You want, period.

Your fingers grip his shirt tight, desperate.

“Fuck me, please. Please--fuck.”

He licks a line up your cheek, catching salty tears of pleasure.

“Since you’re so polite…”

He shifts back down on the bed, and you lean up on your elbows, breath catching as he tugs down his trousers, followed by his boxers.

You don’t think about the sedative tucked neatly underneath the mattress below you, the get-out-of-jail card lying beneath the two of you, like some sort of fucked up version of a princess and the pea fairytale. You don’t think about escaping and running far away.

You only think about the way your pussy clenches at the sight of his erect cock. You only think about how good it will feel to be filled. You only think about how many orgasms you might have tonight.

You can wait a few more days to try your plan again, can’t you? It’s not like you’re going anywhere, after all.

And neither, you think, watching as he palms his erection and prepares himself to enter you, is L.

[reidscanehand]

JJ’s Strategy

Episode 5 of The Love Profile

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x BAUfem!Reader

Category: Fluff

TW: cursing, typical CM case talk, and mentions of Haley’s death

Thank you so much for your support of this series so far. Today things start to take an interesting turn, but have no fear - this series has a happy ending. I promise. Love you xx 

~ "Denial will not save you when Cupid's arrow find its mark." - Kerrelyn Sparks ~ 

The week off before Valentine’s Day is not only an opportunity for the team to enact their plan, but also gives JJ an opportunity to be at home more with Henry and Will. It’s been an absolute delight of a week, including an afternoon trip to the zoo, walks to the ice cream parlor down the street every night, and even teaching Henry how to play soccer in the backyard. And she’s pretty excited about the idea of getting to spend Valentine’s Day with Will, going so far as to book their babysitter a month in advance when she’d seen the time off on the calendar. 

On Wednesday night, she receives a text from Derek into the group chat, “Looks like JJ’s on for tomorrow. Be forewarned, it’s pretty tough.”

What he doesn’t know - what no one on the team knows, though they might suspect - is that JJ has an ace up her sleeve in the form of the little blond three year old sitting next to her at the dinner table. 

“How would you feel,” JJ looks at her son over the divine cacio e pepe Will prepared, “about going to the park with Jack tomorrow afternoon?”

“That would be so fun!” Henry exclaims enthusiatically. 

“I thought we could meet him and Mr. Hotchner at the park and then invite them over for dinner,” JJ tells the excited boy, who nods aggressively. 

“Can I show them my soccer?” he asks. 

“Of course you can, kiddo,” Will giggles, ruffling Henry’s hair before wiping some cheese sauce from his chin with a napkin. 

“Can we practice after dinner, daddy?” Henry asks, picking up a giant spoonful of his pasta.

“Absolutely, son, but we’re not gonna get out there if you don’t take smaller bites. Can’t have you chokin’ now,” Will admonishes sweetly. He looks over a JJ, his grin changing to a smirk and a single eyebrow raising at her.

“What’s that look for?” JJ asks innocently. 

“Oh, nothin’, cher,” Will chuckles, looking back down at his plate and pulling up another spoonful of pasta. “I was thinking, however, that it might be nice to also invite over Y/N for dinner.”

“Oooh, can she come, pleeease? Miss Y/N is so nice!” Henry smiles broadly looking at his mom. 

Will narrows his eyes teasingly at JJ, “But I’m sure that’s already a-plannin’ in that pretty head o’ yours, isn’t it?”

“It might be,” JJ replies, lips toying with a smirk of her own. “Of course Y/N should join us.” Henry cheers and takes another huge bite of his pasta. 

Will grins and chuckles deeply, “I knew it.”

~~~

JJ doesn’t exactly keep it a secret, but she doesn’t outright tell Hotch that you’re meeting them at the park and then walking back with the whole crew to the Jareau-LaMontagne household for dinner. 

The three adults are nearly run ragged by the time you walk up, clapping your hands and whooping playfully. 

“So,” you greet the group, “from the looks of things, Jack and Henry are the winners?”

“Y/N!” Jack screams, rushing up to you and throwing his arms around your  midsection. Henry does the same moments later and you give both the boys a hug. You’ve always been kind to both Henry and Jack, but Jack’s comfort - a little boy who’s been through so much in his few years on earth - around you nearly puts a lump in JJ’s throat. She glances over at Hotch, who clearly feels the same way, incapable of fighting a small grin 

“Hey, kiddos,” you beam, putting your arms around the boy. “Those kicks looked pretty impressive as I was walking up. Did you guys beat the grown ups at soccer?”

“Definitely,” Hotch assents, walking up to you. It’s obvious, to JJ anyway, that his arms are practically twitching with desire to wrap you in his arms. He rocks on his heels, glancing back at the Jareau-LaMontagnes briefly before turning back and saying, “I didn’t know you would be here.”

“Oh, well,” you swallow, clearly a tad uncomfortable at the idea that you’d surprised him, “JJ invited me to dinner and told me to meet them at the park and I-”

“It’s my fault,” Will suddenly speaks up. JJ looks at him in surprise, but he looks steadfastly at you and Hotch. “I told Henry we’d find a time this week to play soccer with Jack and Hotch and forgot to tell JJ. She’d already invited Y/N to dinner, so I thought we’d just bring everyone together. I forgot to mention it to you, though, Hotch; I’m sorry.”

“It’s not an issue at all,” Hotch assures him, grinning, first at Will and then back at you, “just a pleasant surprise.”

You breathe out a sigh of relief and smile at the Unit Chief, who continues beaming down at you like he’s never a more wonderful sight. The boys run between the two couples, kicking around the ball a bit, as you and Hotch begin having a quiet, but clearly sweet conversation - if your continued smiles are anything to go on. 

“Head over heels, ain’t they?” Will whispers, stepping over to JJ. 

“Hey,” she replies, “thanks for covering my ass back there.”

“I’ll always cover your ass, cher,” he promises, wrapping an arm around her waist. 

“The grown ups are being gross,” Jack states matter-of-factly, making Henry giggle like crazy.

“Yeah,” agrees the three year old, trying to be as cool as his five year old friend, “gross.”

“Well, then,” you laugh, clearly trying not to look flustered, “why don’t the two of you lead us to dinner. Then we can stop being...what was the word you used?”

“Gross!” the two boys giggle in tandem before running slightly ahead as the four adults follow along, grins all around.

~~~

She hasn’t thought this plan all the way through. She was worried one of you would duck out after seeing the other there, or at least leaving early. She hadn’t anticipated both of you walking to the house, sitting around the counter with glasses of wine while the boys played more and as Will finished off the roast chicken, mashed potatoes, and while she made the salad. She hadn’t anticipated you two sitting next to each other at dinner. And now she has no idea how to address the elephant in the room. 

Is this what the group meant? she thinks to herself. Is it just...a hard subject to broach? She hates to be that person, but her plan’s gone just a bit too well. The boys are watching a movie in the living room while the adults sit in the adjacent dining room, watching the boys and talking quietly. 

It’s almost too blissful, and it feels weirdly comfortable. Just two couples sitting in the warmth of an after dinner glow, talking about work and entertainment and having fun. It hits her then: You and Hotch are a couple. 

As though sensing her realization, JJ’s phone buzzes in her pocket. She pulls it out and huffs out a short breath at the name on the screen: Strauss.

“Excuse me,” JJ says, stepping out of the room. “Strauss?”

“Agent Jareau,” the woman says on the other end of the line, “do you know where Agent Hotchner is?”

“He’s here, actually,” JJ answers, slightly confused. “He and Jack joined Will and I for dinner.”

“Oh, good, well you can tell him, then,” Strauss replies, her tone as clipped as ever. 

“Tell him what, exactly?”

“I’m so sorry to do this to you all,” Strauss sighs intensely, “but there’s been a series of killings in Denver over the past two months and the police believe the killer is escalating. The killings are getting closer together.”

“Oh,” JJ replies, finally processing what the section chief is telling her. “We’ve got a case?”

“Yes, Agent,” Strauss clarifies. “And we’ll need the team on the jet within two hours.”

“Understood,” JJ answers resolutely, unable of keeping the disappointment out of her voice.

“I know you all were promised a week off,” Strauss says after a moment, “and I’m sorry, but there’s no other teams available and the Denver police are desperate.”

“No, I understand,” JJ assures her. “We’ll get to the jet by 9.” 

“The jet?” you ask, and JJ hangs up the call, turning to see you standing at the entrance to the kitchen.

“Yes,” JJ nods, “there’s a case in Denver that needs us apparently.”

“Denver?” Hotch asks, coming to stand behind you.

“Apparently there’s an escalating killer,” JJ informs him. “I’m sure you need to call Jessica?”

“I can drop Jack off,” you offer. “Since Jessica’s apartment is on the way to mine.”

JJ barely fights the smirk that she feels growing on her lips, wondering how long you’ve had this knowledge.

“That’d be great,” Hotch nods, “I’ll call her if you’ll grab Jack.”

“No problem,” you smile. “Thanks for having us, JJ. I’ll see you in an hour.”

“Yeah, thanks, JJ; see you soon,” Hotch says quickly, already calling Jessica.

JJ walks to the bedroom where Will is already gathering her go bag.

“I don’t deserve you,” she smiles at him, trying not to sound too sad. 

“Yes you do, Mrs. Jareau-LaMontagne,” Will assures her, walking over and wrapping his arms around her. “And when you get home, we’ll celebrate Valentine’s Day and I’ll get to show you.” 

JJ giggles and presses a gentle kiss to his lips, “I love you.”

“I love you, too, my brave girl,” Will whispers. He pulls her into a hug and the two of them stand for just a moment, staring out at the night sky. 

“You know those two are in love, right?” he asks her, gesturing his head towards the window. JJ follows his line of sight to see you and Hotch standing at his car. Jack is standing between the two of you, your hands on his shoulders as he smiles up at you both. Hotch is rubbing a hand up and down your arm, clearly unaware that the two of you can be seen. He crouches down and says something to Jack before pressing a quick kiss to his son’s forehead. He then stands, dropping a kiss to your lips before opening his car door, getting in and driving off. You wrap Jack in a reassuring hug before tugging him into your car and driving off.

“Yeah,” JJ smiles as you drive off, “yeah, I know.” 

~~~

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[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!

[koolkat9]

Hws Rarepair Week 2022: Day 3

@hwsrarepairweek2022

Prompt: Flowers

Rating: T

Pairing: GerEng

Word Count: 717

Author’s Note: For so long I wanted to do something with a Tattoo Artist Arthur x Florist Ludwig and now I finally have an excuse to. 

Not so Secret Admirer

It was the fifth flower this week: yellow acacias, symbolizing friendship and secret love. Though the admirer still seemed to think he was secret, Arthur knew full well who had been sending him these little gifts the past three weeks.

Across from Arthur’s tattoo shop sat a flower shop. In the past few months, he had befriended the two brothers that owned it (though only one brother seemed to be passionate about flowers and gardening). His name was Ludwig, and Arthur would be lying if he said he didn’t have at least a little crush on the stoic florist. But it was nice to be wooed like this, so despite knowing from the very start, Arthur kept quiet, making up a bouquet of all the flowers he would get through the week. These yellow acacias would look lovely with the blue violets he had received on Monday. 

However, after almost a month of this, Arthur was starting to get impatient. It was time to tell Ludwig that he knew and that he returned his feelings. Though, he wanted to do something special in return, but what? 

The bell rang, signaling the entrance of a customer. Or in this case Gilbert, Ludwig’s brother. “Yo, Artie, did you get Luddy’s flowers?” he asked, leaning against the counter. 

“Yes,” Arthur replied solemnly.

“Hey, my baby brother put a lot of thought into this, don’t sound so disappointed.”

“It’s not that,” Arthur hissed, “I just…I-I’m not sure how to respond.”

Gilbert’s face turned serious. “Well, you better do it soon. I worry he’s going to start overthinking it even more than he already is. I think this is the first time I’ve ever seen him so serious about a romantic interest.”

A light blush coloured Arthur’s cheeks. 

“You don’t have to do anything special, just be honest with him,” Gilbert added before bidding him farewell and returning to the flower shop. Did he just come over to say all that?

Arthur grumbled to himself as he went to the back to double-check when his next appointment was. Not for another two hours; so much for a distraction. Arthur groaned, collapsing into the rolling chair nearby. He was rolled near the desk where an old leather notebook caught his eye. He hadn’t used it in years, not since his tattoo business took off, but now it was as if the book was calling to him. Perhaps this was the solution to his dilemma.

—

Ludwig must have been in the back when Arthur entered. It gave the Brit the perfect opportunity to enact his plan. He held the envelope close to his chest and cautiously made his way over to the cash counter. Just as he placed the envelope on the counter, Ludwig emerged. Arthur quickly pulled back and was about to run when he met Ludwig’s eyes. 

The German quirked a brow before turning his attention to the envelope. Arthur remained frozen, his heart leaping out of his chest as Ludwig read it over. After a few moments, Ludwig looked up, cheeks flushed. 

“I-I knew you sent me the flowers,” Arthur admitted. 

Ludwig looked away with a small embarrassed smile. “Was I that obvious?” Arthur offered his own timid smile. “Just a bit, but it was really sweet. Not to mention romantic.”

“Says the one who wrote me a sonnet to confess. Which was very good I might add. I never knew you were a writer.”

Arthur shrugged with an amused huff. “I dabble in it as a hobby sometimes. Though this is the first thing I wrote in a while.”

The two kept stealing glances at each other, cheeks still heated and the awkward tension still present. The question of “What now?” hung in the air. 

“Just kiss already,” called a scratchy voice from the back.

“Gilbert, get back to taking stock,” Ludwig roared in return. 

Arthur snorted. “So…” he began, “Would you like to go for coffee or something? When we’re both free of course.”

“That sounds wonderful.”

Another awkward silence settled over them until Arthur walked over to Ludwig. He took Ludwig’s face into his hands and placed a quick peck on his cheek. “I have to go, but I’ll text you my availability.”

Then Arthur turned the door and quickly exited, leaving behind a shocked, flustered Ludwig.

[lillywillow]

Birthday Wishes

Summary: Bucky wants to plan the best party ever for his young daughter

 Word Count: 2430

 Square Filled: Free Space

 Pairings: Singledad!Bucky x Female Reader/ Steve x Peggy

 Warnings: None really

 Written for @star-spangled-bingo

Ever since the mother to Bucky’s daughter passed away when she was a baby, he had been totally devoted to her and every year on her birthday, he went all out trying to make it the best one ever.

 About a month ago, Tony’s daughter Morgan had a mermaid themed party; complete with a woman dressed as a mermaid. Bucky’s daughter Rebecca had totally raved about it and with her own birthday coming up, he made a note to take one of the business cards with him.

...

 The moment Bucky walked into the building, he was in awe. The front of the store was full of costumes, dolls, plushies, pirate treasure chests, fairy wings and wands... every kind of fantasy item a child could possibly want and a lot of it looked handmade. Out the back, he could hear squealing and laughter. A party in progress, perhaps?

 “Good afternoon, welcome to Childhood Dreams. How may I help you?” the receptionist asked.

 “Hi. I’m looking to book a party? It’s for my daughter...”

 “I see. Well, before booking a party, you’ll need to make an appointment with Y/N. She likes to customise her parties to the client. She’s currently doing a performance but if you’re happy to wait, she’ll be done soon...”

 “I can wait...”

 “Great. Follow me please...”

 Bucky followed the receptionist into the back. There was a pirate party taking place with all the children dressed up as pirates. There were props and decorations keeping in tone with the theme and an incredible cake. On the stage up the front was the same woman who had played the part of the mermaid at Morgan’s party, this time she was a pirate, enacting a mighty swordfight with another actor. She really put her all into the performance.

 Bucky watched her for a moment before the receptionist pulled him along and guided him to an office along the side. The inside of the office was just as cheerful and childlike as the rest of the place. The desk was lined with small trinkets. Along the walls were various photographs of the woman in different costumes. A princess, a fairy, a friendly witch... there was a costume for every occasion. Bucky was in the middle of admiring them when the door opened and the subject from the photos stepped in.

 “You must be the gentleman wanting a party,” she smiled, taking off her hat and eye patch before sitting at her desk and encouraging him to take a seat. “I’m Y/N.”

 “Yes, that’s right. My name is Bucky and I’m looking to do a birthday party for my daughter Rebecca,” he said, getting his phone out to show her a picture.

 Y/N smiled at the photo of the little girl who was dressed as a princess.

 “Tell me about Rebecca. I take it she’s a princess fan?”

 Bucky’s face lit up as he spoke about his little girl. Everything that she loved about princesses and fairytales, down to her favourite colours, animals and mythical creatures.

 “I’m probably rambling now...”

 “No, no, I think it’s sweet to see a father so dedicated to his daughter. Let me show you a few of our packages,” she smiled.

 Y/N logged into her tablet to show him a few of the princess themed parties they offered. Bucky looked through the options before deciding on a fantasy type one with princesses, wizards and all things in that vein.

 “Will you be having the party here or elsewhere?”

 “I think home would be best... unless... here would be better? I don’t know...”

 “Some children feel more comfortable on home base and some like going out. It’s really up to you. My job is to give your child the best possible experience...”

 Bucky nodded slowly and thought.

 “She might like a party in her own backyard...”

 “That’s totally fine. I’ll need to visit ahead of time just so I can work on a setup. Now, will you be providing your own cake? If not, I can recommend an excellent bakery.”

 “A family friend agreed to make the cake,” Bucky replied.

 Y/N nodded and jotted down a few notes.

 “What about food?”

 “Yes, we’ll be making our own food too.”

 Y/N nodded again and wrote down a few more notes. After agreeing on a price, a date and time to meet, his address and the date of the party, Bucky started heading out the door.

 “One more thing...”

 Bucky turned to look at her.

 “I like to ask our clients how they found out about our business...”

 “A while ago, you threw a mermaid party for a friend of mine’s daughter. Rebecca couldn’t stop talking about it for days after that...”

 Y/N smiled fondly.

 “I see... well, I guess I’ll see you when I come to do my inspection. Goodbye, Bucky.”

 “Bye.”

 As Bucky left the office, he could feel his heart fluttering like it hadn’t done in a long time. Ever since his wife’s passing, Bucky hadn’t even looked at another woman. Well, he had looked but he had always been so busy taking care of Rebecca, he didn’t really have time to be pursuing women. Sure on occasion, he would go on a blind date now and then and Steve would babysit but that would be the extent of it. Bucky thought for sure his dating life was over but talking to Y/N just now... it gave him a lot of hope.

...

 Time went by and eventually the day arrived when you went to meet Bucky at his place. Bucky greeted you at the door with a smile and ushered you inside. Smiling, you looked around the place. Pictures of Bucky’s life lined the walls and shelves. Photos of him with friends but most of them were of his little girl. One thing you noticed was the lack of pictures of the girl’s mother. There were a few of her before having the child but not many after.

 “So, um... what do you need to see?”

 “You mentioned a backyard?” you said, referring back to the interview you had a few days ago.

 Bucky nodded and showed you the way. First, you scoped out the best place to conduct your performance then took out your measuring tape to size up the props you might need. As you worked, Bucky could see the gears turning in your head.

 “Do you go out to different locations a lot?” Bucky asked, trying to strike up a conversation.

 “Not a lot but it’s always fun when we do.”

 “How long have you been in business?”

 “It’s taken me about ten years to get it off the ground. It’s only been gaining popularity in the last year or so...”

 “Wait, so you own Childhood Dreams?”

 “Sure do. You see, I always believed childhood should be about fun and games before going onto the drudgery of adulthood. And I help out local business in the process. Most of the items available for purchase were made by local artists. I’m always willing to lend a hand when they need it. That’s why I ask about food. There’s a small bakery a few blocks from the building we’re located who does the most beautiful cakes...”

 You suddenly were interrupted by something brushing up against your leg. Looking down, you saw the most adorable white cat.

 “Why, hello there. Aren’t you a cutie?” you cooed, bending down to pat the snowy feline.

 “This is Alpine. Rebecca is just crazy about her. She’s been a really big help ever since...” Bucky paused, feeling a lump in his throat and tears well up in his eyes.

 Alpine trotted over to him and purred as he picked her up.

 “Sorry. It’s just... ever since my wife passed when Rebecca was a baby; I’ve wanted to give her the best life possible. I try to give equal amounts of time between her so she can look up to me and work so she has the best things in life...”

 You went over and gave him a hug.

 “You’re a good man, Bucky. I’ve been in this business long enough to tell the devoted parents from the off-standers. Just by spending a few minutes with you, I already know that you love your daughter and think the world of her. Just make sure you spend a few moments taking care of yourself, okay? It doesn’t have to be much, just enough so you feel good too.”

 Bucky gave you a soft smile, knowing that you were right. Everyone had told him as such but sometimes, it’s harder to take advice from the people closest to you.

 “Can I get you anything to drink?” he offered.

 “Actually, I should get going. I’ve got a children’s charity event I need to get ready for. It’s been really nice seeing you again, Bucky. I guess the next time I see you will be for your daughter’s party.”

 “See you then,” Bucky smiled.

 He couldn’t wait for the party.

...

 Finally, the day of Rebecca’s birthday arrived. Bucky had spent the night before busily transforming his humble home into a castle fit for a princess. He wanted everything to be perfect for his little girl’s special day, buying the most glittery, ruffled princess dress for her to wear, complete with a sparkly tiara. Bucky himself hired a prince costume and even managed to obtain a kitty sized dragon costume for Alpine.

 Bucky spent the morning cooking, starting with a plate of pancakes for breakfast before moving onto the finishing touches on the food for the party. He had most of it prepared already but some of it needed heating.

 The first to arrive was Wanda with her twin boys who were both in costume. The boys instantly ran over to play with Rebecca while Wanda was left holding the cake she had made along with her purse and the present she had bought. Bucky rushed over to help her with the items and after exchanging greetings and pleasantries, she showed his the cake.

 It was everything Bucky could have ever hoped for and more. The cake was purple with ice cream cones decorated like castle turrets, topped with little princess and unicorn figurines and the words ‘Happy Birthday, Rebecca’ written in icing along with the age she was turning. Little pink flowers were piped along the sides.

 “Thank you so much, Wanda. Becca’s just going to love it.”

 “You’re welcome,” she smiled, giving him a hug.

 Soon after Wanda’s arrival was Steve and Peggy with their child followed by Tony, Pepper and Morgan, Sam with his kid and it wasn’t long before all the party guests had arrived. The adults all mingled while the children played together happily. Right on time, Y/N arrived with her scene partner in full costume. She was wearing a knight costume while her partner (whom she introduced as Phil) was dressed as an ‘evil’ wizard. Bucky settled the kids in front of the makeshift stage and let the performance begin.

 Y/N started by introducing herself as a knight dedicated to Princess Rebecca.

 “That’s me!” Rebecca squealed in delight, jumping to her feet and clapping.

 Y/N knelt down to be level with her, crossing her right arm over her chest in a salute.

 “I vow to protect you from the evils of the kingdom.”

 Suddenly, Phil jumped out of his hiding place.

 “Mwa-ha-ha! I am an evil wizard and I am here to change all the cakes into broccoli!”

 Bucky thought he was laying it on a little thick but there was a wave of horrified gasps from the kids.

 “Not so fast, evil wizard! We will defeat you! Kids, if I’m going to beat him, I’m going to need your help...”

 Y/N and Phil made an amazing pair. While Y/N encouraged the children and even a few of the parents to join in, Phil played off their reactions until he was ‘defeated’.

 “You win! I will change my evil ways and use my powers for good!” he dramatically cried.

 The children all cheered and clapped. The two actors took a bow and started to pack up as Bucky announced it was time for cake. The kids all raced over to where the cake was being brought out.

 “Would you two like to stay for cake?” Bucky offered.

 Phil looked at Y/N for permission, a hopeful glint in his eye.

 “Sure. We have some time before our next appointment,” she smiled. Phil gave a big, childlike grin.

 Once everyone had sung Happy Birthday to Rebecca and she had blown out the candles, the cake was served out. Steve approached Bucky.

 “Hey, man. How are you doing?”

 “A bit tired but seeing the smile on that little girl’s face makes it all worth it,” he softly sighed.

 Steve followed Bucky’s gaze to where Rebecca was talking animatedly to Y/N. He could tell the smile on her face was genuine and not just for show. This was a person who loved their job and loved children.

 “Is that the same Y/N you’ve been going on about all week?”

 “I haven’t been talking about her that much...”

 Steve gave him an incredulous look.

 “You know, it’s okay to like her. Why don’t you ask her out?”

 “What about Rebecca?”

 “Peggy and I can look after her while you go out on date. You deserve to be happy too...”

 Bucky thought about it for a while and headed over to Y/N and Rebecca.

 “Daddy, daddy! Y/N was the mermaid at Morgan’s party! She’s magical...” Rebecca was absolutely smitten with the woman.

 “I see... Can I talk Y/N alone for a minute? Then you can open presents,” he smiled.

 Rebecca giggled and hugged his leg before running off to play with her friends.

 “She’s a darling,” Y/N warmly smiled.

 “She is... Listen, Y/N... I was wondering... if you’re not busy tomorrow night... if maybe you’d like to have dinner with me...”

 “Like a date?”

 Bucky’s face flushed.

 “I mean, if you want it to be...”

 Y/N kissed his cheek.

 “I’d like that. How about 7:00 at the restaurant around the from the Childhood Dreams building. They do an amazing meal...”

 “Sounds perfect,” he smiled.

 This was one the best days of Bucky’s life. Not only did he pull off the perfect party for his daughter but he took a step back into the dating world with an incredible woman who somehow stole his heart.

[tonypinkgrave]

an invitation to paradise✧･ ｡ﾟ

❥ summary : “Aw, don’t be like that! You’re already here, and we both know this isn’t only a friendly visit... Give me what I want, Vergil.” Dante looms closer, and Vergil coaxes him forward without having to speak. His guard is down, and he’s not resisting the idea— he knows more than anyone that if Vergil didn’t want to do something, he flat out wouldn’t do it. No if’s, and’s, or but’s.

Of course, even when Vergil submits, he’s still in charge. “If you want it, then you’ll have to work for it. Undress me.”

3.1k words

during DMC3 timeline; before canon events

Pussy power!Vergil / Dante

includes bloody foreplay, pretentiousness, scissoring, and a smidge of angst

»» ──────ஓ๑♥๑ஓ ────── ««

Dante kicks open the bathroom door, a resounding flush closed off as he slams the door back. He runs a hand through his hair and sighs when the phone rings.

He can’t catch a break, can he? Despite his unnamed business just now having the lights on, his phone has been blowing up with customers needing help with dirty jobs. Not that he hates it, not when it means a bucket load of cash is waiting on him, but he wants a few days to himself to iron out the path his life is taking.

His life took a turn for the worst barely a year ago, and he’s trying his hardest to stitch together the remaining threads of his ego and reputation. He spent months dealing with the aftermath of that bloody disaster, then right after had to come to terms with his brother being alive. He thinks he should be happy, but their small reunion didn’t go as planned. Now, he may be up against his own brother after having lost his semblance of a family. All the while, he keeps that smile plastered on his face and a skip in his step, hiding the trail of crumbled shards of his sanity that follow him everywhere.

Ah well, what can be done?

Dante plops into the creaky, antique chair and reaches for the rotary on his desk. “Sorry, not—”

A raspy breath interrupts him. He leans into the phone as if that will make the voice any louder. “Uh, hello?”

The other line abruptly hangs up.

Dante shakes his head and tosses the phone back on the receiver. “Great. Not even open for business yet and I’m already getting prank calls too.”

A thump in front of him has him on full alert, and he freezes upon seeing his identical twin, Vergil, standing before him. Dante doesn’t move, only stares at the frown he’s so familiar with. Where the hell did he come from? He didn’t hear the front doors opening, and not a single window was broken! God, he really can’t catch a break, can he?

Quickly, he plasters that cocky smile on and lounges into his chair. “Well, well, look at this. I think my new place is haunted because I’m seeing a ghost.”

Dante chuckles, picking up a slice of pizza. It’s lukewarm now, but food is food. “You might as well be. I saw you a year ago, for what, two minutes? And you dipped out like the coward you are.”

Vergil raises an eyebrow, a hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. He ignores Dante and looks toward the pool table and the other decorations adorning the office. “I had plans to enact, brother. Still do.”

Dante half-heartedly listens while he munches on pizza.

His twin prods the wooden table, absently messing with the shiny, black 8 ball. “It’s the reason why I’m here, in fact. I’m extending an invitation to you.” He drops the ball, the harsh sound reverberating through the office.

“An invitation for me? How sweet,” Dante scoffs. “No thanks, though.”

Vergil sharply turns toward him, and within moments, the slice of pizza held in Dante’s hand is chopped in two, cheese dripping onto Dante’s pants and a rogue pepperoni slapping his desk.

“Oh, you have better things to do?” Vergil sheathes the Yamato with an audible click, “Gorging yourself on cheap food and living in squalor is quite a way to live— hm, I must be mistaken to invite you.”

Dante stands up, brushing off the bits of food clinging to him. He doesn’t miss Vergil’s wandering glance across his bare chest, the gaze lingering on his amulet around his neck.

“Fine, I’ll bite. Invitation to what?” Dante splays his arms, “I doubt someone like you is throwing a party worth visiting.”

“So mean, little brother. I believe you’ll find this party worth a visit. It’ll have everything you would want..”

Vergil’s words drift off, and they face each other in a locked standstill. Dante cautiously inches toward him, but covers his unease with a dramatic pondering of the invitation, scratching his chin and even averting his eyes from his potential target.

“Hmm. Frankly, a party with just us is all that I want.”

Vergil narrows his eyes.

“I’ve been meaning to kick your ass and make you submit for quite some time.”

Vergil snorts, actually laughing at Dante’s audacity. “Did all that grease rot your brain, Dante? What a joke.”

click here to read more ✦

[ravennm84]

Serafina

Part 2     Part 3

Based on @unmaskedagain post “Marinette’s Haunted Doll” this is my take on the story and the kind of things Serafina would have done to get even. There’ll be three parts, and will hopefully be posted through the week. Blood, gore, and character death ahead. You have been warned.

She was seven years old when her Grandma Gina’s sister, Ramona, passed away. Marinette couldn’t remember ever meeting her. Her dad said that she was a very private person and didn’t get out much. Since she had never married or had any children, all of her relatives were asked to come over to the house and divide the property before the rest was sold and equally divided. 

While her parents had been in the kitchen, looking over some family cook books, Marinette had wandered around the old house until she came to a small room. It was full of spiderwebs and old toys, which greatly interested her. She spent a long time looking through the boxes and shelves until she found a locked chest in the closet. Remembering the key she had seen in a dresser drawer, she retrieved it to see if it worked. It was hard to turn, but she heard the click and was able to open the lid. Inside was a box with an envelope laying on top of it. Curious she opened the envelope and read the note as best as she could.

“If I’m dead, Serafina killed me.”

Tilting her head in curiosity, Marinette set the letter aside and opened the box. Inside was an old looking porcelain doll. It was covered in spiderwebs, the dress was old and ripped, she was missing a shoe, and the hat looked like it was stained with red paint. 

“Are you Serafina?” She asked the doll before carefully lifting it out of the box. “I don’t think you’re bad, you just look lonely. But don’t worry, I’ll take care of you!” Giving the doll a gentle hug, the little girl got to her feet and left the room and letter behind. Finding her parents, she asked if it was okay to take the doll home so she could take care of her.

Tom remembered seeing that doll when he was a kid and had always thought it was creepy, but if his little girl saw the good in it, he would trust her. And since none of the other relatives wanted anything to do with the doll, it came home with them. 

Once home, the little girl raced up to her room with the doll and immediately got to work. She threw away the old dress, hat, and shoe before cleaning away all the dirt with a washcloth and carefully combing out the knotted hair. Then Marinette got to work on making Serafina a brand new outfit with new shoes and a hat. It took a few days, but she was really happy with what she came up with: a pink Victorian dress with rose and pearl accents, a wide brimmed hat with maroon feathers, and maroon slippers that tied with ribbons around the ankles.

Proud of what she had made, Marinette held the doll up high as she twirled around her room. She had been interested in fashion and clothes for months now, and making the pretty outfit for Serafina was a lot of fun. If anything, it proved to her that fashion design was what she wanted to do.

“I hope you like your new clothes, Serafina. You make the perfect little model, so I hope you don’t mind if I make more clothes for you later on. I promise to only make you clothes that will make you feel pretty.” Giving the doll a kiss, Marinette placed her next to her computer before skipping down stairs for dinner.

~oOo~

Serafina had not been expecting this when the young girl, Marinette, had opened her box. It had been decades since anyone had shown her any kindness. For so many years, she had been passed from person to person, shoved into boxes and hidden from sight or attempted to be sold off. Serafina had had no choice but to punish many of her past owners, and she had not been lax with their punishments. 

But she didn’t feel the need to do that with Marinette, this girl was different. She wasn’t afraid of her. She didn’t scorn her and hide her away where no one could see her. No, this girl was kind and made Serafina feel loved; something she hadn’t felt in nearly a hundred years. Staying with Marinette, she knew that she would be happy. So, no one needed to die here.

And she was.

The porcelain doll smiled quietly on Marinette’s desk as the years passed, and felt more for this girl than she could remember with anyone else. She felt beautiful whenever Marinette used her to experiment with a new outfit before she would make a full sized outfit for herself. She had fun when the girl would sing and dance around the room, sometimes even picking her up so she could dance with her. She felt entertained when she would play movies on her computer, one time watching a movie about a haunted doll like herself; they didn’t watch much before she turned it off, but Serafina thought it was funny. Scratching people and leaving notes wasn’t scary, she had done much scarier things than that.

As Marinette grew into a teen, Serafina felt proud as she grew from a shy girl into a fearless superhero. Her owner had a lot of love and light to give, so it made sense to her that she became Ladybug. She also felt scared for the girl, not wanting to lose her to Hawkmoth, but silently promised her that if she was ever hurt, the people who hurt her would pay her back in blood.

Serafina was also aware of the tiny god that gave Marinette her power, just as Tikki was aware of her. No doubt, the god could sense the darkness that dwelled in her porcelain body, but realized that she cared for the girl and would not harm her. So the little god wisely said nothing, she would hate it if Marinette suddenly feared her.

After all, the three of them were happy and at peace.

Until the day Marinette came storming into her room, complaining about a girl named Lila. From what she could hear, this girl was a liar and was using her friends. Knowing how much her human cared for other people, that didn’t sit well with how it would affect her. Then she didn’t hear anything about the girl for months. But when she was mentioned again, it quickly got worse from there. 

Serafina heard about the threats, the lies, almost being akumatized, her crush Adrien telling her to take the high road, all of it. She watched as one by one, her friends turned against her. Bullying her while accusing her of being a bully until only three of her classmates remained. She knew that the teacher and principal were useless and even accused Marinette of being a problem, especially after the expulsion. Serafina had nearly enacted her revenge that day, but held back when she was reinstated the next day.

Nathaniel, Rose, and Juleka were the only people left that believed her or even bothered to try and help in her class. There was also Kagami and Luka, Juleka’s brother. Serafina would admit, that boy was sharper than most. When he first saw her, his blue eyes studied her intently for a long moment until Marinette spoke up.

“That’s Serafina, she’s been passed down through my family for a long time. She was in really bad condition when I got her and took a lot of work to get her fixed up, but it was worth it. She was my first ever model and I’ve never felt lonely since she’s been around.”

Luka looked back over at the doll and gave her a smile. “I can tell, I’d bet no one gave her the proper love or attention until she came to you. And I think, if she could talk, she would say that you kept her from feeling lonely too, and all she wants is for you to be happy.”

Serafina liked that boy, a lot more than she had liked Adrien when he had come to play video games. The boy genuinely seemed to care for Marinette. And even though he could somehow sense that she was more than just a doll, he didn’t spill her secret. Yes, she approved of this one.

And then, less than a week after she returned to school, came the worst day. They were taking pictures at the school and Marinette had worked so hard on a new dress; it was pale purple cotton with teacup sleeves, a tulip skirt and pink lace at the hem. It was so sweet and looked like she was going to a spring tea party. Then half way through the day, she came into her room crying. Her makeup was smeared, there were bruises and scratch marks on her arms, another bruise on her cheek, her hair was a mess and covered in dark blue paint. The same paint that covered almost half of the dress. Tikki was doing her best to comfort the girl as she showered. Marinette was unable to save her dress and ended up throwing it away before she cried herself to sleep on her bed. 

Serafina was angry, the kind of anger she hadn’t felt since Ramona had attempted to burn her in the fireplace… and that hadn’t gone well for her. Tikki flew over to face her. “I know what you’re thinking and I can’t condone you falling into old habits and killing her entire class. Despite how much they’ve hurt her, it would still break her heart if they all suddenly died.”

The doll actually considered that for a moment before picturing some very specific people. Lila, the liar that was trying to take away/destroy the person she cared about. Alya, the best friend that betrayed her, acted like a hypocrite, and took joy in hurting her. Adrien, the boy that not only broke his promise to help her as a civilian, but continually harassed her as a pseudo-hero. And finally, Hawkmoth, the person that was constantly putting her in danger. Everyone else that had harmed her would be punished, paying back the harm they had done to Marinette in blood, but those four would pay with their lives.

Tikki shook her head. “As angry as I am with Adrien, you can’t kill him. Marinette still has feelings for him and if he dies, she might never get over him. I can’t stop you from punishing them, but please try not to kill them. You know that she has a big heart and it would hurt her to lose any of them, so please keep that in mind.”

Serafina would have argued, but the little god was right. Killing around Marinette would only upset her. So she would do her best to punish them without killing them… although, accidents do happen. 

~oOo~

It was easy enough to sneak herself into Marinette’s bag the next day of school. It was even easier to select her first victims. One of her classmates, Kim, stole her backpack and dumped out all of her stuff, including her. The boy laughed about Marinette bringing a doll to school as he ran up the stairs to keep it away from her. It took little effort to make the boy trip, in full view of everyone that had been watching, and fall backwards down the steps. 

Serafina had landed at the top landing with a perfect view of the boy’s tumble, and it was oh so satisfying. She could see his knee bent in the wrong direction, a bone in his arm protruding from the skin, and blood dripping from the cuts and open wounds. But the sound was even better, all the cracking and popping of bone before he began crying like a little girl, begging for his mom.  Ah, she hadn’t realized how much she had missed those sounds.

When the principal came out to see what was happening, she hid her presence and let the principal trip over her and fall as well. He even landed on Kim, causing more injuries to both of them. She held back a laugh as the grown man wailed and cried until the paramedics arrived. Loading the two into the ambulance while one of the teachers called the Board of Governors. A representative, M. Rupere, quickly came to take over the principal’s duties while he was gone, and was surprised when a bunch of students tried to blame Marinette for the incident.

“And how is it her fault?” He asked the students that surrounded him. “Did you see her push or trip M. Le Chien or M. Damocles down the stairs?

“Marinette brought in a doll and Kim was distracted by it when he was going up the stairs, that’s how he tripped and fell,” Lila told him with tears in her eyes. “Then M. Damocles tripped over the doll and fell down the stairs too. It’s just like how she pushed me down the stairs last week and I hurt my knee. I think she’s actually trying to hurt people.”

The man looked at Lila for a moment before looking to the top of the stairs, but there was no doll there. Then he looked back at Lila with a stern glare. “Young lady, if you had been pushed down the stairs last week, you would have been severely injured just like your friend or M. Damocles. And whether or not it was Mlle. Dupain-Cheng’s doll that caused the incident or not, does not mean that she is at fault for the accident. To the principal’s office, right now. I think we should have a discussion as to why you are trying to blame another student for something she did not do.”

Totally shocked, the girl looked around to her followers for some support, but they were now looking at her with uncertainty. They had just seen two people fall down the stairs and receive severe injuries, so how was Lila walking around just fine without a scratch on her? Huffing in annoyance, Lila stomped her way to the office while the class stared after her, most of them noticing the lack of limp to her walk.

Serafina was pleased with how this was turning out, she had already punished two of the people that had betrayed Marinette and had begun sewing seeds of doubt with the liar. At the moment, she was hiding in the classroom, observing everyone so she could figure out the best way to punish them. She noticed Rose, Juleka, and Nathaniel sitting close to the girl and doing their best to comfort her. She also noticed Nino, a boy she had seen a couple of times over the years, casting looks back at Marinette. 

During the first break, the boy cautiously approached her, clutching his hat in his hands. “Hey dudette, listen… I, um, wanted to say I was sorry,” he said, having a hard time looking her in the eye. “After Kim fell, what that Governor dude said about Lila not being hurt, and the fact that I’ve known you forever. I felt so stupid. You would never push someone down the stairs or cheat or steal from someone like that. And I tried looking up Jagged’s discography to see if there was any mention of a song about Lila, and there was literally nothing. I tried telling Alya, but she didn’t want to listen and-”

Nino was interrupted by Marinette giving him a hug. Serafina smiled at that. The boy had thought for himself and admitted that he was wrong. He apologized and Marinette was willing to offer him forgiveness. She supposed that Nino could also be exempt from punishment, so long as he never betrayed the girl again.

Half way through the second lesson, Lila had returned to the class with two weeks worth of detention and had a meeting scheduled with herself, M. Rupere, and her mother at the end of the week. Serafina decided to let the girl’s empire fall before going in to completely destroy her.

During lunch, when all the students had left. Serafina got to work on punishing Mme. Bustier. She started by slamming the door shut, it made the woman jump and look around the room, but there was no one there. Then the giggling started, causing her to look around the room again. This time, she walked up the steps to see if anyone was hiding in the room, but she was completely alone. When she turned back to her desk, the papers she had been grading were torn to pieces. A bit panicked, Bustier tried to run out of the room, but the door was locked. As she struggled with the door, she heard the scraping of chalk and froze for a moment before looking at the board. Large words were scrawled in block letters: LIAR, ENABLER, MEAN, CRUEL, and the most frightening of all, YOU WILL PAY.

Bustier’s hands were shaking as she erased the words from the board, not understanding what was happening. Only taking a breath when the door opened and her students began to file in. Serafina quietly laughed at the teacher’s fear, she was another person that she would take her time in punishing. Payback for failing to help Marinette. For now, it was time to take out her biggest supporter. 

Again, it was much easier than it should have been to sneak herself in Alya’s backpack and go home with her. When the girl found her she sneered. “The klutz must have put you in my bag by mistake.” Then she smiled cruelly at her. “I think I’ll give you to Etta and Ella to play with before giving you back to Maribrat, maybe tell them that you need a makeover and give them some permanent markers too.”

Turning to take the doll out to her sisters, she stubbed her toe on her desk chair hard enough that she felt a crack and dropped back on her butt while hissing in pain. When she was finally able to think past the pain, she realized that she had dropped the doll and didn't see it on the floor. After wrapping her foot, she looked all over her room but couldn’t find it anywhere.

That night, things got… more than scary. Alya was absolutely terrified.

First, her computer turned on, on its own, and started printing off papers saying ��YOU KNOW THE TRUTH”. She turned the computer off, only for it to turn back on after she’d climbed into bed and the browser pulled up past searches; specifically, the searches that proved that Lila had been lying. She had found that out after Lila had disappeared from school for months, but had kept to herself so she wouldn’t lose her credibility on her blog or have to admit to Marinette that she’d been right. Turning it off again, she’d decided to sleep on the couch when her phone suddenly let out a hiss and burst into flames.  

Letting out a shriek, Alya rushed to her door, and had just barely opened it when it slammed shut on her fingers, causing her to scream as she struggled to pull her hand free. She could hear her parents and Nora shouting on the other side of the door, trying to push it open, but it wouldn’t budge. Her head got fuzzy and she suddenly felt cold, she realized that she was going into shock. Her parents’ shouts became garbled background noise and Alya heard the sound of tiny feet running around the room. She tried reaching the light switch so she could see, but it was out of reach.

From the light outside her window, she could barely make out the movement of a small shadow, moving from one part of the room to another. Coming closer and closer to her with every sweep. Alya began tugging harder on the doorknob and her hand. She needed to get out. Something was in the room with her. She could almost feel the darkness creeping closer. It wanted to hurt her!

What happened next, Serafina couldn’t have planned better if she’d tried. Alya jerked back her trapped arm and the doorknob at the same time Nora threw her shoulder into the door as hard as she could. Sending the teenagers flying into her bedside table and her head hitting the corner with an audible *crack*. The doll smiled silently in the corner of the room as the paramedics were called and listened to her parents cries for their horrid daughter to wake up. They called time of death at 2:03am.

~oOo~

It was a bit more of a chore for Serafina to get back to the school, but it was still manageable as her mother had to inform the school of her daughter’s death and pick up her things. The woman had also noticed the information that had been brought up on Alya’s computer and thought that she had been up late chasing a lead. And as the lead had to do with the disturbing behavior of one of her daughter’s classmates, she thought it best to show the acting principal the information before taking her leave. 

Making her way back to the classroom, she saw that the news had spread already. Nino seemed to be hit the hardest, as it was his girlfriend, but he would get over it. Kim was still out of class, and likely would be for a few more days. Tikki saw the doll when she was peeking out of the purse and gave her a disapproving glare, but there was nothing she could do. And in Serafina’s defense, she had only intended on maiming the failed journalist, her death had been an “accident”.

When class let out for lunch, Serafina got back to work tormenting Mme. Bustier. Today, the door slammed and locked shut a few minutes after the last student left. The woman shrieked and was struggling to open the door when the giggling started again. Bustier started screaming for it to “go away” but the giggling continued. Turning back to the door, books began flying at her from all over the room, hitting her chest, back, arms since they were shielding her head.

Then the door opened to show a panicked looking M. Rupere. “I heard screaming, are you alright?” The red haired teacher looked extremely frazzled; her hair was a mess, eyes wide and dilated, and her hands were shaking.

“The books,” she said in a trembling voice. “There was giggling, the door wouldn’t open, and the books attacked me. And this was the second time!”

His eyebrows rose to his hairline as he stared at the woman. “Did you see who was throwing the books at you?”

Bustier shook her head in a frantic manner. “There was no one, the books just started flying at me after the giggling.”

Giving her a slow nod, Rupere gently motioned her to step out of the room ahead of him. “How about you take the rest of the day to recover? Some rest will do you some good.” 

To his relief, Mme. Bustier agreed and collected her purse before leaving the school. Looking around the room, he was confused to see all the books in place on the shelves. Curious, he went to examine her desk and saw essay papers… covered in red ink with large “F’s” on every one of them. Reading the paper on top, all he saw were a few grammar mistakes, nothing that should have resulted in a failing grade. A bit unsettled, Rupere called the Board to schedule a psychological exam for the teacher. Serafina watched the man with satisfaction, at the rate she was going with that terrible teacher, she wouldn’t be around much longer.

Her next victims were Max and Alix during science class. She switched a couple of labels on the tubs on their desk before hiding in the room to enjoy the show. Half-way through class, Max poured a large amount of reactive chemical into the mix while it was warming over a burner, and the glass exploded. The two screamed and cursed in pain as Max tried wiping the liquid away from his face, only succeeding in getting more in his eyes. Alix tried wiping it away with a cloth, not noticing in time that the fabric was also soaked in the chemicals that now covered her entire face.

Serafina was impressed with how quickly Mme. Mendeleiev reacted to the incident. Doaning on gloves in an instant and leading the two students to the chemical wash station. Both students looked to have chemical burns on their faces, arms and necks. She could already see the burns covering a large amount of their exposed skin. While the class was distracted, Serafina switched the labels back so it would appear that the two had not been doing as instructed.

When school let out, the doll hid away in Mylene’s bag and ended up going on a date with the girl and Ivan. They commented on the bad luck their class seemed to be having and wondered out loud at what the cause might have been.

Mylene was hesitant to speak as the two ate their ice cream. “Do you think… maybe it’s karma coming back on our class?”

“Why do you think that?” Ivan asked her, seeming genuinely curious. Deciding that their conversation might lead to something more, Serafina waited and listened.

“It’s just… ever since Kim fell down the stairs, it’s got me thinking. Lila says that Marinette pushed her but the only injury she says she got was a bad knee, and she’s been walking around fine since then. And then she tried blaming Marinette for Kim and M. Damocles, when Kim shouldn’t have been running up the stairs and M. Damocles tripped at the top of the stairs when she was still down in the courtyard.”

“You’re right, now that I think about it. Lila lied to that new principal and she did it really easy.” Ivan nodded slowly, his brow creased as he pulled out his phone. “I wonder if she lied about anything else.” Mylene watched over his shoulder as he looked up the story about saving Jagged Stone’s kitten from an airplane. There was nothing, the only article that came up about a pet was his crocodile, Fang. The story said that he had hatched the reptile himself seventeen years earlier and any other pet wouldn’t be as rock’n’roll as Fang. “I don’t think Jagged ever had a cat, this article says that he’s only had Fang for longer than we’ve been around.”

Mylene pulled out her phone and called Rose, putting the call on speaker when she answered. 

“Hi Mylene, did you hear anything about Max and Alix? Are they going to be okay?” The girl asked as soon as she picked up.

“Ivan and I haven’t heard anything about them yet, but we have a question for you, Rose, and it’s something only you would be able to answer.”

There was a slight pause on the line. “Go ahead.”

“Do you still chat with Prince Ali?”

“Sure I do! We video chat every Saturday and I send him videos of our performances with Kitty Section. Why do you ask?”

“Ivan and I were wondering… Has he ever mentioned Lila to you?”

There was another pause, although they could hear a hushed conversation in the background. “So, you guys figured out the truth about Lila?” When they didn’t respond right away, Rose continued. “I found out a few weeks after Lila says she came back from Achu. I mentioned Lila to Ali and asked him about the charities they had been working on together, but he’d never heard of her. And Ali is only working on charities involving children, nothing with the environment. When Juleka and I tried asking Lila about it, she got really mean and threatened us if we told anyone. I would have been akumatized if Marinette hadn’t been there to calm me down.”

Ivan and Mylene were horrified, not only had Lila been lying to them, but she had threatened Rose, Juleka, and probably Marinette too. “What should we do?”

“First, you should apologize to Marinette for how you’ve been treating her and let her know that you know the truth.” They heard Juleka over the phone. “Lila has been more terrible to her than anyone else and she keeps getting in Lila’s way to protect us and Nathaniel since we know the truth about her.”

“Who all knows?” Ivan asked, feeling a bit sick to his stomach. Sure, he and Mylene hadn’t really hurt her or done anything, but they hadn’t stood up for her either and they were supposed to be her friend.

“Us, Luka, Kagami, Nathaniel figured it out when she said she could introduce him to Stan Lee, Nino figured it out yesterday, and Adrien’s apparently known from the start but didn’t say anything because he doesn’t think her lies are hurting anybody.”

Both of them could hear the acid in Juleka’s voice when she mentioned Adrien, and they couldn’t argue with her. They knew he had led a sheltered life, but how could he claim that ‘lies don’t hurt anybody’ after sitting back and watching Lila and her friends torment and bully Marinette?

Mylene hadn’t even realized that she had asked that question out loud until Rose answered them. “He told us that it was Marinette’s own fault for antagonizing Lila, and ‘If she just took the high road like I told her, then Lila would leave her alone’. It took everything I had not to slap him.”

Coming from Rose, that really was saying something.

Serafina was then taken on a shopping trip to an arts supplies store, a card shop, and a stop at an ATM before going to Marinette’s family’s bakery. She smiled quietly and with great respect to the couple as they apologized to her girl, gave her cards, an entire bolt of soft purple cotton the same color that her ruined dress had been, a new sketchbook, and money to pay her back for some of the things that Marinette had given them over the past year. They even asked her to provide them with proper receipts, and admitted that they knew the amount they had given her wasn’t enough to cover everything. But they promised to pay her back before asking for anything else, as well as pay in advance for any future items or baked goods. 

The little doll would have cried right along with Marinette if she could. These two had proven themselves to her and would avoid punishment, just as Nino had.

Taglist (it’s a long one):

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[implexedactions]

Penance is a virtue

Yandere!Enji Todoroki x Reader

Enji Todoroki is many things; kidnapper, lover, sadist, hero, villain, husband. He is many, many things. But he isn’t delusional.

Beta-Read by best person: @absolute-flaming-trash

Warning: Yandere content and themes, Angst, Heavy emotional themes, Suicide, Stockholm syndrome, Kidnapping.

---

You wake up, eyes dashing to the clock.

5:55 AM - SUNDAY

Okay, good, you hadn’t slept in. Enji always wanted you to wake him up. He got...mad if you didn’t. You turn over to him in bed, expecting to find him still sleeping.

Teal eyes stare back at you instead.

“Ah!”

His face takes on a sorrowful expression.

“Did I frighten you? Sorry. I could not sleep.”

Not leaving you time to respond, he pulls you into his chest, under the covers. He sighs in content, and you press into him, not wanting him to forget your devotion.

After some time, he pulls you up to his face, kissing your forehead gently.

“Thank you. For everything.”

“U-uh, what do you mean? Are you okay?”

Enji sighs, failing to meet your gaze.

“I never do compliment you that often...”

---

He carries you to the breakfast table, adorned with pancakes, your favourite.

“What’s going on Enj- I mean, dear. I’m meant to make you breakfast?”

He fails to answer you, instead sitting down with you on his knee. He takes a fork and puts some pancake on it.

“Eat.”

And so you do.

When you finish, he moves to wash up.

“W-what are you doing? You told me that was my job.”

Your memory wanders back to your first few months here, when you disobeyed his every command...and received due punishment for it.

“Are you going to punish me again?”

It escapes your lips before you can stop it. The thought of being punished again, like before, makes your veins cool with fear.  Your breathing increases and you move down on your knees onto the cold kitchen floor.

“P-please, I swear, I’ll do whatever you want, just don’t-”

“Stop.”

He walks over, his thighs the same height as your head. You move to undo his belt, but a hand puts a stop to that.

“There is no punishment. I am just doing an acceptable act for my spouse.”

The words “but you never do that” get stopped in your throat. You instead swallow and try to weakly smile. Looking up at Enji from your position on the ground, sunlight bathing him in a warm glow, to contrast the unsettled expression on his face.

---

He places you on a stool while he washes up. You fiddle with your hands, nervous. This isn’t how Enji usually acts. He’s so...vulnerable. In all honesty, it’s scary.

“Do you like the sunrise, my sweet?”

You look out to the orange glow emanating from the windows.

“Do you want me to like it, my sweet?”

Enji simply sighs and continues washing up.

“I’m sorry you cannot enjoy it. One should always appreciate what they have...”

---

After breakfast, he walks silently to the study. You follow behind him perfectly, like he trained you to.

He walks into the study, sitting down at his writing desk, and you take your place in his lap. He pulls out pen and paper, and you avert your eyes. 

It isn’t for good spouses like you to read.

He spends the better half of 6 hours writing. You entertain yourself by tracing the pattern of the wallpaper. This evolves into focusing on Enji’s breathing, noticing how he breathes in more, not less when he becomes frustrated with something on the page. You eventually move on to thinking about all the things you miss from the outside world, like ice cream, and human connection. You finish out the last hour by thinking about how angry Enji would be if he knew such a perfect little spouse were thinking such nasty little things. 

Shuffling about, he motions for you to hop off his leg, and then stands and leaves the room without speaking to you. You get the feeling he’s coming back, though; he left the door open.

You’re worried. You’re scared beyond belief. This isn’t like him, this entire day is wrong. You’re hoping he’ll burst in and start yelling, the anticipation feels worse than any potential punishment. You consider that maybe this is the punishment and that you should perhaps just start apologising regardless. He didn’t take well to that before though.

This day has made little sense. Enji is acting so far out of his usual behaviour that it doesn’t just scare you because he might hurt you. It scares you because you don’t know what is even happening. It takes you back to the days you first came here—a blurry, hazy mess. You struggle to even remember it. You remember bits and pieces. Chains, fire, the cold, the scent of sex. Small things like that.

You turn your head to the papers on the desk, intrigued by what took up so much of his time. Before you can look away, you see what they are. Letters, addressed to countless people, your parents, Shoto, Rei, Hawks, various news stations.

You glance towards the open door...surely what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him right?

You pick up the letter to the Hawks. 

 Keigo, I write this letter to you as a mentor, and I presume a father figure. I know that in some capacity, you looked up to me. You were just a scared kid, and I helped. That said, if what I have done becomes public knowledge, do not defend me. I do not know how much you know of my dealings, but for the sake of your future, throw me to the dogs. Do not say that I was perfect, or that I did no wrong. When I turn and look at my darling, I see my mistakes for the damning judgments they are. You will be a fine no.1 hero, just let go of your predecessor. Please.

 That alleviated little concern. Undeterred, you move onto the letter to the media.

 To all the news channels and gossip rags that haunt this city like the festering ghouls you are, I detest you. You created division, turned heroics into a popularity contest, seeded doubt during a time where we needed hope, and fought so hard to bring us all to our knees. I know my story will vilify me, so I accept my place in the burning flames of hell. Just know that when you get down there, I will be waiting to enact justice.

 You are practically hyperventilating now. You grab the letter to your parents. You don’t know what these letters are, but they seem like-

The letter is snatched away from your hands. It appears you forgot to watch the door.

Turning around, tears in your eyes, fear in your veins, half-baked excuses running rampant in your mind. You expect to see vengeful Enji with a glint in his eye, telling you it is time for your punishment. Instead, you find an apathetic Enji, eyes soft and watery, stance broken and exhausted.

“I did not want you to see that. I am sorry that you did.”

Enough is enough, you want answers. Pushing against your instincts, you stammer out a question.

“W-What is going on? Why...why are you like this?”

He seems taken aback, eyes opening wide. This minor act of defiance, of speaking out when not spoken to, is enough to break you. Falling to your knees, you look away from him. Aghast that you even thought of defying his wishes.

“I’m sorry! Please, forgive me! I didn’t mean to question you like that! Or read the letters! Please! I didn’t- I don’t-”

A calloused hand grips your shoulder.

“Please. Stop.”

You look up to see Enji’s eyes, dull and watery again.

“Sorry.”

“Trust me, I am sorry too.”

---

The afternoon is spent on the couch, watching TV in Enji’s lap. He seems to notice your nervous disposition, as he slowly envelopes you in a hug the more the hours go by. Eventually, he gets up to make dinner by himself, much to your unvoiced dismay.

You simply stare as he makes it. Both of you silent. He occasionally looks over to you, as if to make sure you haven’t merely vanished into the ether. You feel like you might vanish into the ether, honestly.

You move to the dining table, and a couple of minutes later, he brings out dinner. Silent, he sits down beside you, but a hand stops you from eating.

“Tell me, do you remember when we first met?” he sounds...hopeful.

“Is...Is this a trap?” you ask cautiously. This entire day has put you on edge.

“No. Quite the opposite, in fact.”

“I...I can’t remember it, really. Most of those months are...blank, I remember a few pieces of my first couple of months here. They’re admittedly not pleasant memories.”

“I see.”

“I mean, I appreciate that you did those...things you did to me! If you hadn’t, I wouldn’t be any good at my job.”

He turns to you and raises an eyebrow.

“Your job?”

“Yeah, loving you, being your spouse.”

“Ah.”

Both of you go quiet. You wait on the signal to start eating. It doesn’t come.

“It was a gala event. You told me how much you hated them, and I laughed and agreed.”

“Ah. Gala’s sound so wonderful, don’t they though? Being outside, getting to dance, to listen to beautiful music.~”

You sway slightly thinking that you could have once been permitted to be a part of such a magical event.

“You may eat now.”

Enji’s command breaks you out of your daydream. He watches as you take your first bite, and follows in kind.

---

When you finish, he seems restless. He gets the plates and puts them in the sink. He then takes you to the living room. He fiddles with a speaker for a couple of seconds, before classical music emerges.

“You said you cannot remember our first meeting, and by extension our first dance. I was wondering, would you like to dance with me?”

Confused, but delighted, you join Enji in the embrace. Softly dancing around the living room, you try to imagine what it was like meeting Enji for the first time. He must’ve seemed so sweet, right? That’s how Enji would come off to a stranger, right?

You lose yourself in the moment, allowing yourself to imagine a life outside of these walls. You would’ve met Enji at the Gala. He would’ve laughed. He would’ve given you his number, the gentlemen that he was. He would’ve taken you to a fancy restaurant for your 1st date. You could’ve shown up at his agency while he was buried under paperwork once, and it would’ve made his day. You could’ve kissed him under the rain, snickering as you pulled away and saw droplets evaporate on contact with his blushing face. He would’ve proposed in a quiet place, with a brilliant ruby. You would’ve met Shoto, and figured out what his deal was. You would’ve grown old together.

But this life is just as beautiful, right?

Enji leans down during the dance and kisses you. Softly, unlike all those times before. It’s beautiful to you. And based on the silent tears running down his face, it’s beautiful to him too.

He pulls you down onto the couch, staring into your eyes as the soft music plays.

“I’m sorry, my love.”

“What for?”

“For a lot of things. For kidnapping you. For...training you. For punishing you. For breaking you, beyond belief. For so many, many different things. You are not the person I fell in love with, you are hardly a person. I broke you, I gutted your personality until all that was left was a shell, echoing any command I gave it. You do not have a soul anymore.”

He pauses, seemingly debating over this next part, ignoring your shaky and scared reassurances.

“And I am also sorry for the poison in our food tonight.”

Your world shatters at that.

“The fatal effects should kick in soon enough. It will not be a nasty death. Even in death, I intend to remain dignified. Or at least, I wish to preserve your beauty.”

You cannot vocalise anything, your mind is failing you. From either the poison or situation, you are unclear.

“There is an antidote on the kitchen counter. If you can get there and drink it, you will live. And if you are feeling ever so generous, you may even give some to me.”

He turns and looks you in the eyes.

“My only command is that you do not get that antidote.”

“Wh-what?”

“You heard me. Disobey me, and save yourself. Or obey me, and die.”

He shrugs.

“I did say I was sorry.”

“I-I...why?”

“Like I said. You are a shell. If you get the antidote, maybe I have not entirely broken you, maybe you can still be saved from my conditioning. If you do not get the antidote, I get to make Dabi just that little bit happier.”

You try to get up and into the kitchen. You really try. Your arms try to push up. You try to move off the couch. But...that feeling of fire licking at your body...it’s paralysing.

You instead collapse back onto the couch, and Enji sighs.

“Can you hold me?”

“Sure, my sweet.”

His arms pull you into his body. You feel yourself getting more and more tired.

“I’m sorry...I couldn’t be...what you wanted...”

“I am sorry I could not be what you wanted either...”