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nationalharryleague · 4 years ago

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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!

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angry-geese · 3 years ago

Note

Hi there <3 I've read some of your works and i'm in love with your writing. May I please request a fluff gojo x fem!reader? Like they finished their work in the evening and spend the rest of the night together at home💕 It could be a oneshot or a hc, whichever you feel to write. Thank you so much ^^ I'm sorry just in case my request is somehow not really clear☺️

Of course! here you go <3

Mochi

Gojo Satoru x reader

Warnings: none! entirely fluff! this will quite literally rot your teeth. afab reader

a/n: this ended up being a little longer than I intended lol whoops

Word Count: 2.5k

Satoru Gojo is a busy man.

The strongest can't really take a break. He’s on call 24/7. People are pulling him in all directions simultaneously. With everything that's been going on, between the mess with Sukuna, and everything happening at the school, he’s been short on time.

He needs a break.

He's more tired than he lets on. He’s good at hiding it. Especially around his students. It's hard to pull him away from his work. He's insistent that he’s fine. When you’re around someone for so long, you learn to pick up when they aren't. He can pretend to be fine all he wants. You know otherwise.

Sometimes what the strongest needs is someone to boss him around.

He’s capable of taking care of himself. He’s proven that already. But worrying is in your nature. You care about him, of course you’re going to worry.

You were a first year when you met him, having just transfered schools after an incident involving a curse. In a matter of weeks your life had seemingly been flipped on its head. The switch took some time to get used to. Switching schools your first year, let alone switching to this one in particular, was never going to be easy. Getting used to the way Jujutsu society worked took a while. He was a year above you, and you remember absolutely hating him. Gojo was insufferable- or you found him to be such. But he was friends with Nanami, who was a friend of yours, so you reluctantly hung out with him. Nanami, being in the same year as you, was the first to help you out, extending a hand and helping you get used to the way things worked.

Spending time with him didn't do much to change your views. The two of you couldn't have been more different. You still are. But something about opposites attracts.

The first time you gave him the benefit of the doubt was the first time he saved your life.

It may be a bit of an over exaggeration. You’re certain you would have survived without his help, but that could also be an attempt to preserve your pride. You went after a curse, not expecting it to be as strong as it was. As far as you knew, it shouldn't have been stronger than a grade three. Being a grade two at the time, this should have been well in your ability. There ended up being more than one curse, and they were stronger than anyone had realized. You were in over your head.

It wasn't your fault. You couldn't have known. It's not like you could pick and choose which curses you fought. As a student, that was decided for you.

You had resigned to your fate, separated from the others, injured. Nothing fatal. It left a cool scar, though. But you were well out of your league, put on an assignment far harder than you could deal with. You hate to admit defeat, but you had no other option.

Out of what seemed like thin air came Gojo, taking out both curses like it was nothing. Despite not liking him all that much, it was hard to not be impressed. He was strong. Stronger than you could ever hope to be.

You made it home in one piece.

It was three days before you’d finally confront him.

Getting him alone was hard enough. Being an underclassman, you didn't interact with him a whole lot. You didn't have any classes together. The few times you ran into him were when you hung out with Nanami, who was gone at the time.

When the opportunity presented itself, you took it, cornering him behind the school.

Even back then it was impossible to sneak up on him. He could sense you coming.

“Jesus-” he said, referring to you by your last name, “you look like you want to kill me.”

“You helped me out.” You said. “Why?”

He only shrugged. Not wanting to take that for an answer, you followed him. You were insistent you paid him back. You’d never let a debt like that go unpaid. The first debts are always the hardest to pay back. And when a first debt involves saving your life, well, you’ve got a lifetime to pay back. You only left once Gojo showed up. He needed to talk to Gojo about something, and although you were curious, you didn't feel like sticking around.

Gojo spent the next couple days scheming. You were determined enough you would do just about anything. He could have easily abused his power. It would have been even easier to force you to drop it, but something told him you weren't about to take no for an answer.

You wouldn't.

3pm in the bathrooms. It was hardly a week later. Your last class had ended for the day. You had snuck cigarettes in, blowing the smoke out of the crack in the window. You don't smoke anymore, but you went through nearly a pack a day in high school. There wasn't a specific brand you liked—you didn't necessarily like smoking, but you did it when you were stressed—you just used whatever you got ahold of.

You didn't hear the door open. Gojo wasn't the sneaky type, but he could be when he wanted. You weren't too hard to sneak up on.

If you didn't have contraband that likely would have gotten you expelled, you would have screamed when you saw him. He scared you, not to mention he snuck into the girl’s bathrooms. The two of you would be in equally deep shit if you reported the other. So at that moment you came to a silent agreement.

“You still want to pay me back?” He asked. “Cause I have an idea.”

You perked up at his words.

“Get me mochi from that shop just down the road. You know the one that just opened up?” He asked. “Bring me some and I’ll call us even.”

“That's it?” You asked. It was almost anticlimactic. But despite everything, he was insistent.

Gojo hasn't changed a whole lot since then.

He still has his sweet tooth. He still makes you get him mochi from that shop. It feels like you’re the ones keeping it in business nowadays.

You’re not quite sure who made the first move.

Soon you began spending more time together away from Nanami and Geto. You got along better than anyone—mostly you—ever expected. You weren't the most outwardly affectionate. While you were far from shy, pda wasn't really your thing. Gojo is the opposite. Even now, years after you began dating, he’s still clingy. You’ve gotten used to it. Gojo is possessive, he wants everyone to know you’re his. Not that they don't know already. He can't shut up about you.

Getting him alone has always been hard. Not much has changed in the past few years. He’s only gotten busier. Try to drag him away from work all you want, you rarely succeed.

Tonight he's come willingly. He finished his work early, and all you had left was stuff you could finish in the morning.

Nights at home like this—together—are rare. It feels like you hardly see him anymore. You often fall asleep alone, only to wake up to the other side of the bed being cold. He’s been so occupied with this business with Yuji, that he’s hardly had time for anything else. You sneak away during your breaks, like you’re teenagers again, stealing kisses between classes. You almost don't know what to do.

It almost feels like you should do something to celebrate.

The lights are off when you get home. Your apartment looks empty. Megumi must still be out with his friends.

“What should we do for dinner?” Gojo asks.

“Takeout?” You say. "I don't feel like cooking."

Gojo’s a decent cook, but he doesn't feel like doing so either. He’d get takeout every night if you’d let him. But that's not good for him (or Megumi) so you force him to do otherwise. Because you’re normally home, and you like baking, you’re usually the one to make dinner. There's not much in the fridge. You'll have to get groceries eventually. Not tonight. Maybe tomorrow. It shouldn't take long.

“How does Korean barbeque sound?" He asks. "From that place down the street?”

"Sounds good,"

You find a menu buried in one of your kitchen drawers, stashed with other takeout menus. You pick out something—two meals, plus some sweet buns for dessert—he calls the restaurant. You pay the extra cash to have it delivered. Neither of you feel like going and picking it up. It's more convenient than the alternative.

The tv drones on in the background while you wait. There’s not much on tv at this hour. News, some late night soaps. While you do like your occasional soap opera, none that you normally watch are on. Gojo changes it to the news. The weather. It looks like it'll rain tomorrow morning, but the rest of the day is supposed to be warm.

"We should go to the park tomorrow," you say, "having a picnic sounds nice."

Gojo hums in approval. As long as you make those tea cakes—the ones with honey drizzled on top—he'll agree to tag along. Maybe you'll go check out the bookstore too. It's been a while since you've last gone.

You strip out of your uniform, pulling on some more comfortable clothes; a pair of shorts and one of Gojo's shirts. It smells like him. You can't help but bury your nose in the collar.

When there’s a knock at the door, Gojo is the one to answer. He returns with your food. You gather napkins and utensils. Gojo never saw the point in anything other than stainless steel chopsticks. Or wooden ones—those given to you with takeout—if he wasn't feeling up to doing dishes. You, on the other hand, bought all sorts of colorful ones and stands that may or may not have been lifted from various restaurants. That's one habit from your teenage years you never lost. You'd pocket almost anything that wasn't nailed down. Your apartment has a rather impressive assortment of salt and pepper shakers. Not to mention the box of hotel soaps you never use, but took because you "might" need it. He enables you, taking some whenever he stays out of town, bringing them home for you. Gojo can hardly say no to you.

Gojo settles next to you on the couch, his shoulder pressed to yours. He can't keep his hands off of you. He’s possessive by nature. Everyone has to know you’re his. He always has to be touching you. Not necessarily with his hands, but he presses his thigh against yours while sitting next to you, or his body pressed against yours from behind in public.

The two of you eat in relative silence. Gojo’s attention turns to the tv, but that doesn't stop him from practically laying on top of you. Occasionally he’ll sneak bites of your food, and you of his.

When you’re done, you clear away the empty containers, sitting any leftovers in the fridge. Gojo sprawls out on the couch. He easily takes up any bit of space. The couch can hardly fit all 6-foot-something of Gojo. It hardly fits you. You've been meaning to look for another one, but haven't found the time to.

He opens his arms, and instinctively you go into them. You move so you can rest partially against the arm of the couch, Gojo's head leaning against your shoulder. His arms loop around your waist, his fingers lacing over your stomach.

It doesn't take him long to begin to drift off. He falls asleep in the crook of your neck. The low sound of the tv, combined with the warmth of his body makes you want to drift off to sleep. Sleeping on the couch like this isn't very good for your (or his) back, but you don't want to move.

The next time your eyes open, some late night game show plays, disturbing your sleep with loud music. The clock on the wall reads some time past two. It's hard to read the minute hand. You gently shake Gojo awake. One of his eyes cracks open and he lets out a soft “hm?”

“Come to bed,” you say, your arms wrapping around his neck, “it's late.”

His eyes close, and for a moment you think he’s drifted back off to sleep, when his grip around you tightens, and he’s rolling over on top of you.

“I think I’ll stay here with you, mochi,” he says, planting a wet kiss to your neck. The feeling of his lips on your neck makes you shiver.

And though he doesn't move, there's a look in his eyes that tells you he has something planned. You only notice too late that his grip never loosens, and the mischievous glint to his eyes. You couldn't wiggle out of it if you wanted to. You're effectively trapped.

He litters your neck with kisses, sending you into a giggling fit, and he doesn't stop until you’re begging him to. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes from laughing. Your nails dig into your palms so hard they leave little crescent-shaped indents.

When you finally settle down, he’s pulling you into his arms bridal style, heading for your shared room. The bed is still unmade from this morning. Neither of you bothered to put it away. You were busy, and the thought slipped your mind.

Gojo shoves the covers aside, pulling you to lay on his chest. His fingers gently trace up the curve of your spine as he watches the steady rise and fall of your chest. Goosebumps prickle your exposed skin. He’s careful with how he touches you, loving, and soft. It's like he’s trying to memorize every inch of your body. His heartbeat is audible. Steady, and quet, acting as a lullaby. Your eyes shut, but you’re still awake. The intimacy of the moment doesn't go over your head.

He thinks he could die happy at this moment. Any moment, with you, really. Even during fights, or nights where he doesn't come home until long after you’ve fallen asleep, and you’re left irritated with his lack of time. As long as you’re by his side, he’s content.

He doesn't give much to the thought of settling down. His work will never let him. Neither does he think much about having any biological children. You practically have two already. Settling down isn't really an option for the strongest. This is the closest he’ll get to it.

For now, he just thinks about the park, and the blue sundress you always wear when you go.

Not many people can say they’ve changed who Satoru Gojo is as a person—let alone for the better—but you’ve changed him twice. Once in your meeting behind the school, and once again tonight. He’s found the one.

The first debt is always the hardest to pay back. But you've paid it in full.

#gojo satoru x reader #jjk x reader #gojo x reader #gojo fluff #gojo satoru #jjk #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #fluff

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luvluvnitrodynamite · 4 years ago

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jealous jujutsu kaisen characters <3

ft. itadori yuuji, gojou satoru g/n!reader (sfw, with some suggestive themes in gojou)

itadori yuuji - watching itadori get jealous is a bit cute, if you're being honest. i mean, take what happened in the grocery store yesterday. ~ "yuuji, we're out of rice," you say to him, re-checking your list. "we're out of rice??? impossible. i just had some yesterday." you sigh. "be that as it may, that doesn't change the fact that we don't have it anymore. can you grab it really fast?" he pouts a bit. you're not sure if he genuinely doesn't want to leave your side or if he's just stalling to remember where the rice aisle is. regardless, you don't want to stand here all day. "yuuji, i'll give you a kiss as a reward if you get it for me." he perks up immediately, giving you a grin and a thumbs up before dashing in the opposite direction. you smile to yourself. itadori may have been an idiot, but he's your idiot. the thought warms your heart. you push your cart of the produce section and into a large selection of rows, choosing one closest to you. you seem to be in the tea aisle. oh good, you think. we've been out of tea for a couple of days now. you peruse the section, picking up some green tea. you get some chamomile as well, stacking the boxes carefully so they won't get crushed by fruits. mmm what about chai? you search the boxes, only to see it's at the very top self. you reach up, fingers just barely touching the platform it's on. you can't even brush up against the box. you try standing on tiptoes, looking a bit silly as you try to extend your body beyond its natural length. you're thinking maybe you should wait for itadori to get back when a different hand easily plucks the box off the shelf. you follow the hand to its owner, to see it belongs to a tall guy about your age. he's cute you suppose, but it's no itadori. still, you smile sweetly and charm him with a "thank you! there was no way I was going to reach that." He smiles broadly back at you. "No problem," he replies. "You like chai tea?" You want to be polite and he's nice enough, so you respond "definitely! I don't know if it's my favorite, but it's a staple in my pantry." He blushes a bit, and scratches his hand behind his neck. "Yeah, same," he says. "There's actually a really nice café that opened up a few blocks away from here. They make a mean cup of chai, and they have these delicious little cinnamon rolls that go really well with them. If you're free any time soon, do you want to try one with me?" You open your mouth to politely turn him down when you feel a protective arm wrap around your waist. You turn your head to see a pink-cheeked itadori glaring at the stranger. he does look mad, but you also think he just looks so cute. ah, the duality of man. "oh, hi yuuji! did you get the rice?," you ask him. you have priorities, after all. "yeah," he says, not moving his arm or his gaze. "who's this, love?" oh, he's really jealous if he's pulling out the love. you try to defuse the situation. "oh, this guy just helped me get some tea from the top shelf. thanks again!" you say. the guy was not expecting a wild itadori to emerge from the tall grass, and is trying to figure a way out. "no problem," he repeats. "i'll see you around, yeah?" without waiting for a response, he puts the tea in your cart and walks away. "did you know that guy?" you ask, as itadori relaxes and puts the rice in the cart. "no, but it sure looks like you did," he says, a bit annoyed. "yuuji, are you jealous?" you tease. "no! of course not!" he retorts. his cheeks are still pink though, and now he's looking around like he expecting another guy to run through and sweep you up in their arms. you decide to take mercy on him, and tug one of his hands in your own. "hey, don't i owe you a reward for getting my rice?" he perks up, and flicks his gaze almost imperceptibly towards your mouth. you sweetly press his lips to his cheek, and smile innocently when he gives you an annoyed look. you turn around to go the cart, only to see that the tea guy has returned. itadori sees him too, and he looks mad again. however, instead of confronting him, he looks at you and says,

"c'mon, i meant a real kiss." he gently places his hands on your face and pulls you in. it's a light, yet passionate kiss. the rhythm is slow and soft, but there's a definite intensity behind it. his tongue has just swiped your bottom lip, entering your mouth when you remember that you're in public. you pull away and glance at the end of the aisle. the guy is gone. you glance at itadori. he is grinning triumphantly at you. you smile in spite of yourself, going back over to the cart. "yuuji?" he comes over, wrapping his arms around you and placing his head over your shoulder. "yes, my love?" "you got the wrong kind of rice." ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ gojou satoru - a jealous gojou is not a good gojou. if you think he's annoying normally, it's about to get so, so, so much worse. ~ "satoru please!" you beg. you're feeling desperate now, there's no other way out. you two have gone to the park for a picnic to savor one of his rare days off. the spot you chose was warm and sunny with few people around; the day was supposed to be lovely. and it was, at least for a while. you had spent just the last hour cloud-watching, peacefully pointing out odd shapes in the sky. really though, you were just taking an excuse to lay on his stomach and talk. you two get so little time together like this that you try to savor every moment. however, in your analysis of a banana-shaped cloud far on the horizon, you noticed a familiar shape. the shape of your ex, to be precise. you stiffen, and gojou notices. "hey," he says. "what's wrong?" you don't respond immediately; your mind is swirling with schemes to avoid them. if you guys packed up now, could you go without being noticed? no, you were too close. could you hide? no, there wasn't anywhere to duck behind. you had to stop time somehow, but how? gojou waves his hand over your face. "hey? everything ok down there? have you gone into the void?" he asks. you start to glare at him, but then his words hit you in the face. the void. he can draw your ex into the void while you make a hasty getaway. you sit up, dropping your angry look and switching to a more saccharine one. "satoru," you start. "can you do a favor for me?" he gives you an easy smile. "of course, anything for you," he replies. "great, can you trap the person in the white shirt over there into the infinite void?" that certainly gets his attention. "i'm sorry, what?" he asks incredulously. "ok, so that's my ex over there. things ended kind of...awkwardly, and I just don't want to deal with this right now. could you trap them into the void before they notice me?" "i don't think the relationship was the thing that was awkward love. maybe you should just, you know, face the problem head on?" he suggests. "it can't be that bad. and even if it is, at least it'll be entertaining. actually, i'll give you two some privacy!" he says cheerfully, and promptly leaves. that brings you to your current predicament. you could be responsible and mature, but that would involve getting over your breakup. you may have slightly understated the awkwardness of the situation. truthfully, you got dumped and you pined over your ex for weeks afterward. you especially did not take it when when you were being broken up with. you begged them not to leave you while crying, making quite the scene in the restaurant they had chosen. now, with no lingering emotions, you just feel guilty and embarrassed for how you acted. but that was in the past, and you could move past that as long as it wasn't walking up to you. and now with gojou walking away, and them walking up...oh no. oh no oh no ohnonono. you take a deep breath in, and breathe out. i'm not the same person i was then, you think to yourself. this thought steadies your nerves; in fact, maybe gojou was right. you have been wondering what they’ve been up to, after all, and you might stop feeling guilty if you apologize. a bright and cheerful “hey!!” jolts you out of your thoughts; there they are. “hey,” you respond, a bit less cheerfully. you push yourself up off the ground to

greet them, and are a bit surprised when they pull you into a hug. it’s a more intimate hug than you would have guessed, with their hands snaking around your waist and gently cradling your head. they smell...nice, you think to yourself. as you pull away, you feel watched. you’re not sure from where, since you can’t see him, but you know gojou is watching you. well, good. he refused to help you out of this mess, so maybe you’ll make him suffer a bit. neither one of you say anything for a second.. “so….i guess how are you?” they ask you, smiling. “i’m great,” you reply. “how are you?” you ask. “good.” you stand there, neither one of you wanting to interrupt the delicate silence. “so,” you both say at the same time. you guys laugh, and just like that, the weird silence dissipates. “you go first,” they say to you. “well, i just want to say that i’m sorry. i know breaking up was probably hard for you, but i think i just made it harder by, you know, being unable to let us go. that was unfair to you and it definitely made things harder for me, so i’m really sorry about that.” “oh, wow,” your ex say, a bit surprised. “well, that sort of contrasts what i’m about to say. i was going to say that you were right.” huh? what? you furrow your eyebrows together, and stare back with a bemused expression. “i was right?” you venture. “about...what?” your ex sheepishly scratches the back of their head, giving you an embarrassed smile. “about us, i mean. you kept telling me that we were better together, and that we would only be unhappy apart. i know it’s been a while since we were together, but lately it’s all i can think about. i….still think i love you.” well, that was a bombshell. you just stare at them, stunned into silence. “sorry, i know that this is way too much for just meeting again; you just looked so beautiful and it reminded me of when we were together and i just miss being together and -- ah, i’m rambling like a crazy person now, aren’t i?” they wryly ask. you giggle. “just a bit,” you respond. they take your hands into theirs, tracing their thumb lightly over your skin. their eyes are honest, and their face is hopeful. “i know this is really sudden, but would you maybe want to get dinner with me soon? you don’t have to, of course, but…?” they pull one hand out, and drift it up to your face, caressing your jawline with such care that if you were not previously engaged, you might have melted into their arms right there. but you already had a boyfriend, even if he was an annoying one. you thought briefly about pretending to accept their offer, just to needle him, but decided against it. instead, you just kindly smiled at your ex, and pull their hand from your face. “this is really sweet,” you say. “but, unfortunately, i’m already taken.” their face falls, but they quickly mask it with a smile. “ah, i get it. someone as amazing as you would get snapped up fast. it was just my mistake to let you go,” they say, pulling back. “well, why don’t we start over with this. how about instead of a romantic dinner date, we just get coffee sometime. no love attached,” they add. “sure,” you respond. “i have been wanting to know what you’ve been up to.” “same here, how about tomorrow at 11?” they ask. “it’s a date!” you joke. “now, what’s a date?” you hear a familiar, slightly pouty voice from behind you. of course. why wouldn’t gojou appear at the worst possible time. you turn to your boyfriend, who has a shit-eating grin on his face. he’s planning something, but what? “hey ‘toru, this is my ex." you face your ex. "this is my boyfriend, gojou satoru." your ex smiles at him, blissfully unaware. "nice to meet you. we were just planning on getting some coffee soon." “oh, is that so? you’re not trying to steal my love away from me, are you?” there’s no threat in his voice, no hostility, but all the same your ex seems to pick up on his vexing energy and straightens up a little bit. “no, of course not,” they say. “hmmm, i believe you. but all the same, i could have sworn i heard talk of

a date. that reminds me love, weren’t we just finishing up on a date ourselves?” you sigh. “yes, we were.” turning to your ex, you turn back to say goodbye. that, however, is cut off by your lovely boyfriend picking you up and throwing you over his shoulder like a sack of flour. shocked, you pound your fists against his back. “gojou satoru, put me down right now.” gojou ignores you, instead sticking one hand out to shake your ex’s hand. “sorry to cut this short, but we simply must finish our date back at our place. wish i could invite you, but this is a more private activity.” he cheerfully states. mortified, you start kicking him and hitting him even harder. “ ‘toru! put me down so i can dump you right here and now!” “ahh, can’t have that now. we’d best get going so that someone learns a lesson, see you around!” with that and a quick sweep down to gather the picnic supplies, gojou carries you kicking and screaming out of the park. once outside, he puts you down. “satoru, what the absolute hell was that??? that was so embarrassing!” you cry out. “it was your idea to let me deal with that, and then you swoop in once it’s all taken care of? now they’re going to think i’m...i’m... i don’t even know what they’ll think of me, but i’m sure it won’t be positive!” “shhhh,” says gojou. “you might make a scene.” if you were mad before, well, now you’re apoplectic. “a scene???? i might make a scene?” you spit out seethingly. the entire way home, you tear into him for embarrassing you in front of your ex and an entire park full of people. finally, you get home and you drop the j-word. “and all this because you were just jealous??” now that you’ve dropped the threshold of your front door and pulled the trigger, gojou’s entire demeanor shifts. he drops the picnic supplies and picks you up again, but instead of going over his shoulder you’re now up against the wall. you instinctively wrap your arms and legs around him to keep from falling, skillfully intertwining your bodies together. his blindfold has slipped off, and now his piercing blue eyes are pouring into yours with a powerful intensity. your previous angry words slip off into the void, as you’re transfixed by the way he’s staring at you. he leans forward to rest his forehead against yours, the tips of your noses just barely touching. “yeah,” he breathes. “i got jealous. i let an ex come up to you and try to take you away, and i only sat there and watched. i knew you would never cheat on me, but i just got annoyed with myself for encouraging that. you mean too much to me to just let you be taken by someone else, so i really wanted to get you out of there as fast as possible. so, yeah, i’m sorry for embarrassing you. let me make it up to you?” it’s hard to say no in this position, but you try to hold your resolve. “satoru, you just can’t do that. promise me you’ll never do that again?” he’s still looking at you with that seriousness, so he replies “yes” with uncharacteristic sincerity. there’s nothing out of character though about the way he moves in to kiss you though, full of desire and need. you fall into a steady rhythm, a sweet push-and-pull of dominance flicking between you two. gojou suddenly takes over, and just as suddenly, he pulls away and starts carrying you to the nearest flat surface. “let me show you how much you mean to me, yeah?”

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ozarkthedog · 5 years ago

Text

A Teal Crushed Velvet Ride

Summary: You love Chris’s Teal Velvet Pants. He notices and decides to indulge you.

Pairings: Chris Evans x Reader

Warnings: Kissing, Dirty Talk, Size Kink, Thigh Riding, Female Orgasm, Squirting, Male Orgasm and those glorious Velvet pants.

Word Count: 3,022

Author Notes: Inspired by the gif set that @chrisheavans made (forever ty!) and wanting to ride Chris Evans thighs.

This fic took on a life of its own. IT WAS SO MUCH FUN TO WRITE.

I hope everyone enjoys it!

No Beta, only me. Find me on AO3.

Tagging blogs who were interested in this prompt at the bottom.

Reblogs and Likes are amazing! Feedback and comments are encouraged!

“Sweetie, are you sure you don’t want to come today?” Chris asked you while getting ready for the Avengers Press Conference. “You know everyone would be happy to see you. He says smiling at you from his closest.

You’re reclining on his bed in his Hollywood Home, watching as he combs through his closet for the day ahead.

“To be honest, I’m not feeling up to it. I’m feeling like a homebody.” You sigh out running a hand through your messy bed hair. Dressed in only a tank top and lace booty shorts, you’ve yet to shower. All you wanted to do was lounge in bed with Chris all day, if only he didn’t have that Conference.

“Ok, not to worry. I’ll miss you, but I understand. I’d rather spend the day with you looking like that.” He winks as he buttons up his dark blue cardigan. You chuckle and get up on your hands and knees reaching out to him. He comes to the side of the bed, clasping your hands together with his. He leans down for a kiss.

You both sigh in contentment as your lips meet. You’ve always loved kissing Chris. His lips were so plump and soft. So naturally red you couldn’t help yourself but sneak quick kisses whenever you were in the same room together.

Chris nips at your bottom lip as you open your mouth a bit wider for him. His tongue slides over your bottom lip, gaining access you swipe across your own tongue.

You wrap your arms around his broad shoulders and grasp the soft material of the cardigan. Chris hums softly and reaches down with both hands to grab at your panty clad bum.

He squeezes your supple glutes and pulls your pelvis so it grinds on his own. You feel a slight hardness against your lace covered mound. You smile into the kiss, knowing you are going to be on his mind all day.

“Mmm, Sweetie, no we’ve got to stop,” Chris pulls away from you reluctantly. You allow his shoulders to leave your grip as you notice a slightly bigger bulge trying to break free from

his black boxer briefs.

“That’s ok, Babe. I can take care of myself later” you say cheekily, while falling back onto the crisp bed sheets.

Chris narrows his eyes at you. Leaning over your smaller frame, he grasps your chin sternly, “Don’t you even think about it. If I have to go the whole day without touching myself, you have to do the same.” You sigh disappointedly, but agree, “Ugh, I guess that’s fair.”

He smiles down at you, “Good. It’ll be more fun when I get home later.”

He straightens up, goes back into his closet while you get lost in thought looking out the big windows. Letting the sunshine lull you into a hazy state, you are startled when Chris finally speaks up after a while, “How do I look?” He comes out of the adjoined bathroom wearing a black t-shirt underneath a black cardigan, and Teal Crushed Velvet pants.

Your eyes widen as you take in his outfit. You feel your heart starting to race with all the impure thoughts running through your head.

Before you can even stop yourself you breath out a low “Fuck me”.

His eyes perk up, smiling that beautiful smile, “I look that good, huh?”

“Chris, those pants, let me feel!” You are back up on all fours crawling towards him in haste. The Velvet looks so soft, and it’s being stretched out so nicely over those strong thighs. You can’t help but run your hands over his thick quads and up over his crotch.

“Hey now! No, no, no.” He backs away quickly before you get to far with those greedy hands. Chuckling he watches as your face go from pure lust to disappointment in the blink of an eye.

“But I just like the way the material feels! Especially over your thighs and other places…” you whisper softly. Your hand travels without thought down to your pussy mound, lightly rubbing.

“These pants are doing something to you, Sweetie. You like them.” He says with a hint of mischievous in his eyes. His mind was racing and all you could do was sit there while he pondered his actions. “Get that hand off of that sweet pussy if you know what’s good for you.”

As if he came to a realization, he clears his throat and walks back into the bathroom. He comes back hurriedly, reaches for your chin and gives a tender but quick kiss. He tears his face away from you and looks at you pointedly, “No touching yourself until I come home.” You open your mouth to disagree but you’re met with demanding blue eyes and a slight shake to your chin.

“No. Just agree. We will have fun later. Don’t you worry, Sweetie.”

Giving in to him, you nod your head in his grip and lower your eyes.

“That’s my girl. I love you.” He leans in for another quick peck on your lips, then runs across the bedroom to leave. “I love you too. Tell everyone I say hi,” you call out after him.

You proceed to then flop back onto the bed. This was going to be a long day.

Several Hours Later….

You hear the mudroom door close from your place in the kitchen. Washing a few dishes. You made yourself a small meal since Chris wasn’t expected to be home until after dinner.

“Hey Babe” you call out to him. No reply.

Your eyes brighten as you see him walk through the den to the kitchen. Shucking his coat off, he looks tired but determined.

Chris’s brooding eyes meet yours. You grab ahold of the cold counter top as you feel your knees weaken and almost give out. He walks with purpose straight towards you.

He crowds you into the side of the island. Hard marble digging into your waist as he towers over you. You feel the desire radiating off of him, making you want to throw yourself at his feet and let him take what he wants from you.

His stare is sharp, you feel his hot breath over your face. Strong arms cage you in, no chance for escape.

You timidly bring your hands up to his beard and stroke it softly. He leans his face into your palms and let’s his eyes close. He relaxes for a beat, letting the long day wash away. Body sagging against your smaller frame.

“Chris… I-” His eyes open suddenly. His once relaxed frame has now become aware again. Ready for action.

He puts a finger to your lips, hushing you. Your body tenses as you feel his hands travel up your spine. Landing at the base of you neck. He leans down to kiss at side of your neck, making you purr.

Your fingers dig into his cardigan. Relishing in the hard physique that lays beneath.

Feeling his low voice vibrate his chest before you heard it, “Do you realize the position you put me in today? Getting me all worked up before I left for the day.” He voice is his firm, as he makes you squirm in his grip.

“I’m sorr-” you try to apologize, feeling shy while he angles your head to look up into his steely gaze.

His grip tightens a bit more at your neck. “No. The only words I want to hear from those sweet lips are “Please” and “Thank you” from this point on. Do you understand?”

Your body reacts accordingly as you feel your panties start to get damp. The hair on your arms stands as a chill run through you at his assertiveness. This isn’t new. You’ve been down this road with him before. After a long day at work, Chris usually wants to play when he comes home. Not as in DOM/SUB, just him wanting to reign control for a little while.

You hold his gaze and nod your head. He smirks down at you and leans in for a light kiss. His hand travels under your jaw keeping your head where he wants it. He deepens the kiss with haste. You moan into his mouth and he reciprocates with a much lower groan that makes you squeeze your thighs together.

His gaze travels to the junction between your thighs, letting his right hand slide from behind your neck to your left arm suddenly dragging you behind him.

He leads you into the bedroom, letting you go as he takes off his cardigan leaving him in his black t-shirt, those teal velvet pants and his boots.

“Take your clothes off, my Love.” He says while sitting down in the winged back chair placed by the balcony doors.

You watch as he gets himself comfortable, settling with his hands on his knees and just waits for you to comply. He raises an eyebrow at you, and you shed your clothes as quick as you can. He leaves you standing there, naked and exposed, while he contemplates what he’s going to say. You shift from side to side feeling bashful.

“Since you were so enamored with my pants earlier today, I think you should give them a try.” He says, reaching out to you with both hands. He smiles so as to ease your woes of standing there exposed.

You stand there for a few moments trying to process what he said. He can tell you are sort of puzzled so he explains further.

“Come here, Sweetie. Stand in front of me.” Again, reaching out to you but with motioning hands to come closer.

You will yourself to move and walk until your legs are touching his wide spread ones.

He leans forward in the chair and places his big hands on your hips, “Now, I want you to get up on my thigh and grind on me until you make a mess all over yourself and these pants.” He looks so self-assured while he says the naughtiest things to you. No hint of wavering. No room for doubt. He wants to you get yourself off on his pants. The ones you were bewildered by hours ago.

Your breath catches in your chest as he guides you up onto his right thigh. He keeps both hands on your hips to steady you until you grasp at his shoulders, holding on for dear life. Your slick pussy sits so perfectly onto the thick muscle you can’t help but let out a little moan. The teal colored crushed velvet rubs against your pussy lips with ease. It feels so smooth against your aching pussy.

“It amused me to see your fascination with my pants, so I thought I’d indulge you.” He says with kind eyes that makes your body heat up. As if he could read your worrisome thoughts about the piece of clothing, “And don’t worry about ruining them. I will buy another pair.” He says as he leans back into the chair, still holding on your small hips.

He has always enjoyed being so much bigger than you. It was so easy for him to move you into any position he wants and you let me. You will always let him do whatever he pleases.

He nods at you to begin. Still feeling shy, your hands grip his shoulders so tight, but you shift your hips a bit and the pressure of his thigh sends tiny jolts through your cunt up into your body.

Chris hums in approval, as you gather up courage and move your hips in a longer glide against the supple fibers. You feel your slick seeping out of you at an increased rate while you find yourself grinding a little bit harder.

“There you go. That’s it. I want that cunt to feel good.” He groans out as he sees the thick spot of wetness already soaking his pant leg.

“Please…” you moan out. Increasing your speed, you close your eyes and just feel the solid muscle under your aching pussy. Your clit rubs down on the slick material making you see stars. You faulter momentarily, your steady grinding missing a beat, grinding always makes you cum so easily.

Chris grabs your hips more forcefully and moves your cunt along his thigh in a solid motion, “Keep going, Sweetheart. Grind down onto me. Harder.” He grits out between his teeth.

You cry out at the pressure on your swollen clit, it was getting to be to much. You open your eyes and stare up into his bright blue eyes. You want to ask to come, but you can’t say anything other than please, so that’s what you do. You chant “please” over and over again. Hips moving on their own, chasing the pleasure, wanting to reach that highest peak.

“Let go, Love. Let me watch you cum.” He says with a stern affection.

You gasp sharply as you feel your clit rub the last few times over his thigh and tumble over that peak. Your body stills as you feel your cunt convulse around nothing. Warm slick oozes out from your over worked pussy.

Chris moans with you, he loves watching your facial features tense up and then relax into pure bliss. He is rock hard, just wanting to bury himself in your tight cunt, but he holds himself back. Tonight, was about indulging you.

You slowly start to come around as he brushes your hair off your sweaty forehead. He chuckles at your hazy eyes and brings you down for a searing kiss.

“That was beautiful. Absolutely beautiful.” He whispers into you mouth. He starts kissing your jaw and neck line while you catch your breath.

You moan out approval and in your sweetest voice say, “Thank you”. You feel him smile against your skin and he brings his lips back to you ear, “I think one more will do.”

Your body freezes up. Chris can’t be serious. You stare back at him with wide eyes. You try to shake your head but Chris grasps at the back of your neck, making you whimper softly.

He wants you to cum again, so you will.

In an adamant, gruff tone he says, “Be a Good Girl and grind that swollen cunt on me. I want to be drenched in you.”

Choking back a moan, you go to move your hips but he adjusts you so that your cunt is now grinding down on his velvet covered cock. You squeal out at feeling the extreme hardness on your sensitive pussy.

“Will that help get you off again? Knowing how fucking hard I am watching you take yourself apart.” His jaw is tight and his eyes are full blown with lust.

Your clit glides over his bulging crotch with purpose. Feeling how hard he is, watching you get off ignites a new spark in you. You lift your hips up higher to bring them down with a solid pressure against his cock.

Both of you let out broken moans. Eyes catching, you feel the lust pass between your vibrating bodies. He finally plays with your tits for a little bit. Lightly spanking and twisting the perk buds between his skilled fingers. He tries to distract himself by fondling your breasts, but your sweet, wet cunt keeps drawing him back to you.

He drops his left hand to your right hip and grabs it with a bruising squeeze. You yell at the roughness, but continue on as the pain turns to pleasure. His hardness feels so good against your cunt. Chris closes his eyes for a few beats as his hips thrust up unexpectedly. Sending even more jolts of pleasure through your body. He can’t help but thrust against your soaked cunt. The slick is seeping through his pants and boxer briefs, he can’t get over how wet you are.

Chris brings his right hand up to cup around your jaw, then slides down to your neck. Just resting there, waiting. “Come on pretty girl. Cum all over me. Soak me.” He pants the words out.

Chris sees that you’re close, so he adjusts his grip and applies pressure to your carotid artery. Not choking you, just wanting to make you weak and compliant.

Your mouth opens with a silent moan. The pressure he applies starts to make you feel light-headed. Your mouth forms an “O” shape as your faces tenses up again.

You let out a desperate moan and grind down ever harder onto his soaked pants.

He thrusts up once, twice and then you hear him grunt out his own release. Your body tightens up as your eyes roll back and crash with own peak of pleasure. He keeps your hips moving with his as your slick gets even wetter with the gush of your orgasm.

He growls out feeling you drench his pants, and lower abs ruining his t-shirt with your squirt.

His pants and your legs are covered with your cum. The material is soaked through from his own orgasm under his boxer briefs.

You collapse down on top of Chris, spent. He finally opens his eyes and stares down at your exhausted body, quietly twitching every now and then. You sigh contentedly through your nose letting your heartbeat come to a normal rhythm.

You glance up at Chris with sleepy, glazed over eyes. His Blue eyes crinkle on the sides as he smiles down at you. “So, was that everything you’d hoped it would be?” he questions you.

Huffing out a satisfied laugh you raise your head up, “Um, yes, considering I didn’t know I had a Crushed Velvet Pants kink. I’d say that went over very well.”

He lifts you up with so much ease that it startles you awake from the orgasm haze you were so comfortable in. “Oh! Chris! Warn a girl next time.” You jokingly say as he walks across the carpeted bedroom to the master bath to start a bath for the both of you. “Sorry, Sweetie, you know I like to keep you on your toes” he smirks and nudges your nose with his.

The End.

@evansweaters @hurricanerin

#chris evans x reader #chris evans #chris evans smut #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans fic #chris evans fanfic #chris evans/reader #chris evans/you #chris evans x you

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justmaybee · 4 years ago

Text

Feather Sensitive

Summary: Oh, Yamaguchi’s really done it this time. He should just keep his mouth shut from now on. Unfortunately, that’s the exact opposite of what Hinata wants.

A/N: Y’ello! Another off-brand one, but hopefully a fandom peeps recognize. I haven’t seen Haikyuu in a lil, but I love Yamigoops and this has been 90% done for forever so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Based entirely off the second headcanon here, by @ticklishnonsense — absolutely loved it and you can tell cuz I wrote this ages ago for no other reason than having it written down for myself~

A big thank you to OP for letting me use her work as inspiration!!

———

This was a mistake. This was a mistake. This was a mistake.

Yamaguchi can’t will his mind into more elaborate thought, because it’s all just suddenly sunken in.

Hinata’s weight, heavy but not uncomfortable, resting snug on his hips. The loose tank top, just slightly too big on him, stolen out of Kageyama’s stuff at some point during one sleepover or another. And that ridiculously giant feather Hinata’s got poised between his fingers, like it’s a quill and Yamaguchi is a trembling, twitchy sheet of parchment about to be marked up.

When had he told Hinata? Why had he told Hinata?

Tsukki had figured it out, years and years ago; during one of their many one-sided tickle fights, Yamaguchi thinks. It’s been used against him for as long as he can remember, stray fluff from down pillows and blankets brushed over his neck or feet to pull a sudden and squeaky laugh. He’s never, ever told Tsukki just how much it really tickled though, and Tsukki never asked.

So why did he have to go and mention this to a person just as skilled and merciless in tickling people—often Yamaguchi people—into boneless puddles of teary, hysterical laughter?

It’s got to be Hinata’s charm. If Tsukishima has his cold, borderline apathetic, poise to lay base for his killer teasing method, then Hinata’s strength comes in his natural curiosity. Wide eyes, a light voice, and an openness that makes Yamaguchi feel like he can talk to him.

This, apparently, is not the case in a topic involving feathers. Because Yamaguchi will apparently lose all sense of self-preservation and voice his thoughts on how unbearably sensitive he is to a thing most people will flinch at and brush away like nothing.

But of course, it’s too late for him to realize his mistake now. It wasn’t until Hinata came barreling down the hall, shopping bag in hand, to tackle Yamaguchi to the living room carpet that things started rolling into motion.

Now Hinata’s got Yamaguchi pinned, arms under his knees and a big, big smile stretched over his face. It’s so genuine and excited that Yamaguchi finds himself getting a little lost in it, at least until the feather comes back into focus.

“I mean come on, Yamaguchi.” Hinata holds the quill of the feather and traces the soft end up his own arm, dusting it over his collarbone and getting just a hint of a twitch out of his lips before twirling it between his fingers. “I almost think that you’re lying to me.”

But his face must convince Hinata otherwise, because he doesn’t look like he thinks it’s a lie. The tracing of the feather, even along Hinata’s skin has Yamaguchi twitching, breathing funny. Goosebumps rise along his arms, and Hinata is so riled up with energy—so ready to take Yamaguchi apart—that it’s practically impossible for the brunette to even try and stop the wobbly smile making its way onto his face.

Hinata is the one to burst the bubble of anticipation building slowly in Yamaguchi’s gut. He laughs, a delighted little sound, commenting on the cute pink of Yamaguchi’s blush before he goes in for the kill. And Yamaguchi has never been that great at holding back his reactions, especially when he’s already a tense and flustered mess untouched, so the result is pretty immediate.

The first giggle slips hesitantly out of his throat but clears the way for many more as Hinata gently traces the base of his neck, skimming over his collarbones like even a feather could break them if used too harshly.

It’s a little timid, a little reserved, which is a major change of pace from Hinata’s usual quick and dirty way of fighting. He’s always had a ‘take no prisoners’ sort of approach to a tickle fight; either win outright or die trying, but the new method seems to slow him down a bit.

He’s thinking, watching. And luckily, for him and most certainly not Yamaguchi, the change seems to work really well with the soft touch of the feather. Pulling giggle after giggle from his victim and making him sputter at the attention when he realizes how closely he’s being observed.

The plume travels slowly up Yamaguchi’s neck, high enough that he’s able to jerk his head to block out either side as it passes. Unfortunately, that just causes Hinata to speed up the back and forth strokes, attempting to dodge Yamaguchi’s blocks. And it’s effective and so much more ticklish, Yamaguchi chokes on his sudden snort and tosses his head back on impulse, laughter getting louder and more desperate as Hinata takes advantage of the newly exposed skin.

He keeps at it until Yamaguchi feels light-headed, a little delirious with his laughter completely unchecked. The feather strays to flick up over his ear, and the whimpering laugh that comes out keeps Hinata there until Yamaguchi’s shoulder is twitching spastically of its own accord, desperately trying to stop the light, constant brush over his sensitive skin.

He gets a break—thank God—after a few minutes of this. Being dubbed most ticklish in the house (after many, many tests) has left him with pretty high stamina. But somehow a few minutes of Hinata and a feather has him panting for breath like he’d just finished a hundred laps around the gym.

Yamaguchi is so caught up in catching his breath (and trying to calm that tic in his shoulder) that he doesn’t really think about how breaks aren’t much of Hinata’s style either.

His floaty mind comes to bite him when he feels two soft points of contact touch down on his wrists.

His arms jolt on instinct. His elbows move a smidge in either direction but stick firm to the ground. Hinata’s smile takes on a wicked gleam and...oh boy.

If Yamaguchi gets out of this alive, the others will have some real competition for scariest tickler.

The feathers sweep back and forth, back and forth over his arms. They start at the wrist, and would almost feel nice if not for the impending sense of doom that has blood rushing through Yamaguchi’s ears right now.

The swaying movement drifts up, painfully slow. He doesn’t even think it tickles that much right now, but that doesn’t stop him from physically biting his lip to stop the snickers from making their way out.

It’s when the pair reach his inner elbow that first crack appears. Yamaguchi gasps and Hinata perks up, keeping the feathers there a moment longer, letting them sweep side to side a little faster.

From there the cracks spiderweb exponentially.

The gasp ends up turning into a snort. As Himata continues his path upward, it becomes a whine. And when he’s at the faint line where his skin darkens with a tan, from long summer days spent out in a t-shirt, he decides to flick the feathers in an alternating pattern over either arm.

It has Yamaguchi rocking back and forth in a way that he guesses might look kind of funny. Hinata starts laughing anyways. And of course, it’s enough to get Yamaguchi’s lips to loosen and let out the stream of bubbling giggles he’s been suppressing for far too long already.

His arms feel warm, almost as hot as his face, even though their air conditioning has been working pretty decently lately. There’s a faint tingly feeling still left where the feathers had once brushed his skin.

Everything already feels so sensitive, and Hinata isn’t even there yet.

There are butterflies having a—a mosh pit in his stomach right now. He can’t remember the last time he felt so wound up getting tickled. Then again, he can’t remember the last time Hinata put this much...care? Is that the right word for this situation? —into destroying him.

It makes Yamaguchi a little happy, for some reason.

And sometime about that moment seems to be the limit for Hinata’s concentration, because the change from gentle, teasing touches to his usual form of attack is both quick and excruciating.

The moment after, when Yamaguchi suddenly has two feathers sweeping fast little strokes under his arms, his brain completely short circuits.

What leaves his mouth can only be called a shriek and it’s quickly drowned out by the squeaky, panicked laughter that floods the room immediately.

His chest is jerking side to side in vain. There’s hair in his eyes and a little in his mouth from how violently he’s tossing his head around, but he can’t register a thing beyond the millions of wispy, light strands fluttering a fast track over and over and over the soft and sensitive skin beneath his restrained arms.

Hinata gets the bright idea to not try and jam the delicate things towards the floor anymore. He instead tries twirling them in a circular motion in the spaces underneath Yamaguchi’s arms.

Yamaguchi didn’t think his voice was high enough to screech like he used to, but ‘Hey, you learn something new everyday,’ he thinks, entirely delirious.

His back arches off the ground, head tossing back then pressing into his shoulder as if it’ll somehow smother his hysterical laughter.

It’s bright and desperate and so, so loud. Yamaguchi would typically only reach this point when someone’s feeling particularly ruthless with plenty of time to spare, but it could be hours since Hinata first got him pinned down; it sure feels like it.

There are weird little squeaks that pierce the air when he’s got the breath. His limbs are doing this constant squirm that’s got him feeling hot all over. His lashes feel wet and he knows it’s a matter of seconds before the tears start to fall.

But nothing is more prominent than the feeling of soft, soft, so very soft; and it tickles, it tickles, it really tickles.

———

When Yamaguchi’s brain finally starts rebuilding from the mush, hiccuping giggles making their way through his gasps for breath, he feels Hinata still sitting on top of him. Thankfully—mercifully—though, the feathers are nowhere to be seen, and his hands have been let free.

Seeing Hinata’s hand in his peripheral makes him flinch, but he just wipes at Yamaguchi’s cheek, brushing away the leftover moisture.

“I had to stop because you were starting to look like a strawberry,” Hinata grins. His skin is cool against Yamaguchi’s. He leans into the touch.

“So...was that awesome or what?” Hinata continues, voice energetic though he still rubs a soothing motion over Yamaguchi’s cheek.

Yamaguchi takes a second to reflect. On the dreamy tiredness seeping into his bones, the floaty high that fills up his head.

He nods, once or twice. Though from where Hinata’s sitting, it could just be Yamaguchi nuzzling into his hand. That’s fine. Yamaguchi could use the plausible deniability.

Once he’s been declared as officially ‘not a strawberry anymore,’ Hinata helps him up. He only stumbles a little bit, but of course Hinata has to poke fun.

“You know what that means?” Hinata throws out, arm linked with Yamaguchi’s as they make their way to a well-deserved seat on the couch.

Yamaguchi hums in response.

“We’ve gotta start building up your tolerance.”

Yamaguchi’s eyes widen, but he’s pushed onto the couch with a lap full of Hinata before he can say anything. He looks up at Yamaguchi all big eyes and a bigger smile. Yamaguchi swallows.

“We’re doing that again, soon.“

#bee stuffs #tickling #tickle fic #Hinata #Yamaguchi #based off the og post #there’s some college poly first year vibes #but it’s up for interpretation idk #ticklish!Yamaguchi #as he de-serves #Haikyuu

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tundrainafrica · 3 years ago

Note

Hi! I wanted to request a story where Hange asks Onyankopon to look out for Levi in case something happens to her and to not leave him alone, even after he recovers from his injuries 😭❤️. I love the way you write both Levi and Hange without being self-indulgent and I thought of asking you this, but only if you have the time to write. I know you’re currently working on other Levihan stories and you also have your own personal life and I don’t want to impose on you, so whenever you feel like it. I just wanted to share this idea with you.

Title: Coast Lights

Summary:

"Once or twice a year----or sometimes even less frequently than that, the moonlight would kiss the coast in a way that only the ocean would understand.

At the mercy of that breathtaking view, Levi let out a strange sound, a mix between a crack and a ragged breath. Then he spoke up. 'I can’t help but think, Hange would have liked to see this.'"

After the war, Levi still thought about Hange and maybe Hange still thought about him too.

Link to cross-postings: AO3

Notes: I have been meaning to write a post 139 fic for a long time and this prompt just took the cake anon, thank you so much for sharing and also for your kind words. Sorry it took a while, this prompt meant a lot to me and I wanted to be in the right mood when I wrote it.

As always, feedback is very much appreciated :D

Once or twice a year----or sometimes even less frequently than that, the moonlight would kiss the coast in a way that only the ocean would understand.

Sometimes, the moon and the stars cooperated. Sometimes they created their own luminescent paths along the black of the sky. Some lights would fall to the ground in streams. Then by coincidence or maybe by fate, the streams of light would dance amongst the glowing blue, making yellows and reds out of the sand underneath.

Times like those, the beach was chaos, a war of lights, where each source was fighting for the privilege of being seen by even the most casual bystander. Of course they would fight to be seen, that beach, isolated by two imposing cliffs at opposite ends never got too many passers by.

Hange was just one of the lucky witnesses. She was the witness to a beautiful war, one of the only wars maybe that she would have liked to be part of.

She ran to one end, stretching her hand out towards the cliffs, only pulling back when she was millimeters away from touching them. She then spun around and studied the beach, tracing with her eyes, the blue glow that lined the coasts.

Glowing blue jellyfish. She remembered reading about them in one of Armin’s books once.

She wished she could have seen them as a kid. With a little more wonder and with a little more innocence, maybe she could have thought they were magic. Maybe she could have believed miracles were real.

She had spent her earlier years trapped within the walls. Then her later years outside the walls but ironically, trapped by duty and obligation.

Now you’re free. She told herself, a feeble attempt to propel herself forward. Freer than ever. That one reminder proved more melancholic than happy.

She had fought for freedom her whole life. At that moment, she was blessed with the ultimate freedom and she felt guilty for not celebrating, even just a bit.

But it wasn’t the type of freedom most people would ask for. Of course she wouldn’t be completely jubilant about it.

Beggars can’t be choosers. That was the saying that echoed inside her.

Hange modified it into something more relatable.

Soldiers can’t be choosers. Soon after, she brushed away before it grew to anything worse.

She stretched again then ran forward, careful not to jostle the blue jellyfish that had settled at the coast. Then she laughed when she realized it wouldn’t matter.

Although she had grown accustomed to the lightness, to the disconnect over time, sometimes the old habits presented themselves in bouts of an ingrained respect for nature, in bouts of curiosity and wonder towards the world.

There were parts of the world she had never seen before and she had an eternity to explore.

That was one perk of freedom.

Funnily, she had chosen to tie herself down.

It wasn’t the best decision. Although sometimes, she considered the opportunity cost. When she looked back at the house up on the hill, only accessible through the precarious steps that lined the steep cliff, she remembered, it was an easy enough decision to make.

The world could wait. She could experience the world and its beauties in the next life, then the next life after that.

There was someone she would rather not keep waiting.

She climbed up the steps, only held together by ropes. When it was anyone else climbing, they would wobble, they would swing from left to right. For Hange, and Hange alone, they stayed still, made the climb all the easier and Hange was up before she even counted eighty steps.

The field was easy to run through. Maybe because as the house got nearer, she only ran faster. And she knew that if she scurried to the right of the porch, there would be a wide window and he would be there, sitting like he always was.

He didn’t greet her. Too engrossed in his book maybe?

Hange knew there was a more obvious answer to that.

She entered through the window and that time, she didn’t bother to pretend she was still at the mercy of natural laws. Even after months, it was surreal but when she imagined the mustiness by just the state of the dim room, she allowed herself to be pulled back to the world, even just by her imagination.

Levi’s reaction to her entrance though was a glaring reminder that it was only imagination.

Hange still liked to make conversation. “What are you reading this time?”

He didn’t reply.

She wasn’t bound by natural laws, nor was she bound by social laws. So she stood behind him, bent her head forward and read over his shoulder.

Simple prose, unknown characters, not recommended to start a story mid novel. The words blurred together quickly and Hange decided that it wasn’t worth her time to read through. Instead, she focused on his side profile and she traced the scar on his right eye. It was almost fully healed, save for the raw pink and the unseeing eye underneath.

“We could have been matching,” she said. Really, she probably would have gotten rid of the eyepatch if she knew he wouldn’t have bothered even getting one.

She didn’t know how long she was staring, how long she was following his eyes as they skimmed over lines. Restlessness had settled with the rhythm and the predictability of the small details.

Restlessness would settle but it would never die out. Hange was constantly impatient, she was constantly bored.

His concentrated face though and just the little details that composed him were enough to make time tick for her, albeit slowly.

When reading, his eyes would dart from left to right, sometimes his lips would move as a small and subtle movement. When he looked up, then behind him, Hange jumped.

Did he see me?

Surprise then bliss came and went in a split second. No, he didn’t, there had been someone else at the door.

“Levi, it’s late. You should go to bed,” Onyankopon said.

Hange begrudgingly sank back towards the corner of the room.

“I’m fine. I never slept more than three hours a night back---”

“Back in the military right?” Onyankopon interrupted. Then, he sighed. “You’re not as strong as you were before. Besides, there’s not much of war you’ll need to fight anyway, it’s best you use this time to recover.”

Levi didn’t reply. Instead he dog eared the book, closed it and dropped it on the side table. A sign for Onyankopon to go ahead, wheel him back to his bedroom.

Hange followed behind. In Levi’s bedroom, she stood a foot away and watched as Onyankopon methodically went through the process of pulling out his pajamas and dropping it on the bed then he helped Levi out of the wheelchair, gently propping him on the bed. He left the room long enough for Levi to undress.

Hange had some decency to turn her back. A naughty part of her had her settling on the bed, just for some hint of an illusion that maybe in another life they could have----.

Before she could even say it, she let out a hushed laugh. Then something louder when she realized, he probably wouldn’t hear it anyway.

The door creaked open again. “Levi, are you okay? You want anything?”

“Nothing.” Levi’s voice was muffled, his back facing the door.

“It’s a nice night outside. If you get bored, just look at the window, maybe it’ll help you sleep.”

Or maybe it could do the complete opposite. For Hange, there were more than enough constellations to trace, paths to put her thumb over. She wished she could warn him that he might not even sleep if he got lost in them. Then she remembered Levi didn’t sleep much anyway. It probably wouldn’t have made a difference.

Onyankopon let out a sigh, muttering something about a walk.

That had been more than enough to incite Hange’s curiosity. She followed again behind him. Levi was still far from healed. He probably wouldn’t be moving anytime soon anyway so maybe she could leave him, just for a moment.

After all, how many nights a year did the moonlight kiss the ocean? How many times did it take advantage of that opportunity when the coast was lined with a glowing blue? How many nights a year was the glowing blue bright enough to kiss back?

And Onyankopon had seen it too. Maybe he noticed how the night sky was a lighter blue than usual, and he saw how the streams fell deeper than the view the cliff allowed. He walked slowly at first, then he started to jog forward.

Hange did not need to make much of an effort to keep close behind. When he stepped onto the wobbly staircase, Hange was careful to pull back. She was light, most likely weightless but she didn’t want to take the risk.

So she jumped off the cliff.

Even the force of gravity didn’t demand to be felt. The pulling sensation at her gut, familiar from years working in ODM gear, was absent. Ruefully she noted, she probably would never feel it again. At the least, she got to enjoy the free fall with little to no pain at all. Whether she had landed on her ass, or her own two feet, she was in no state to tell.

She was too distracted by the glowing blue though to trifle with such details. She walked ahead, she allowed herself a quick scurry over the blue, down to the shallow waters which glowed with the same neon shades.

There were still streams of light. The moon was large, still high above the sky. And when she was staring straight ahead, counting stars and sketching shoddy drawings in the sky, she didn’t notice it or consider those two points in particular.

Something came as a hush. Then louder. “Hange?”

Hange spun around, looking back at the light blue by the coast. Just behind the rows of jellyfish was Onyankopon, his face pallid. His eyes and his mouth were both larger than what Hange had ever gotten used to, as if he had seen a ghost.

“I’m here!” Surprise or maybe desperation had her saying those words to the loudest of her abilities. She could never tell how far her voice travelled anymore, since it didn’t echo. It didn't tussle with the other sounds for its own place among them.

That time was no different. As soon as it came out of her mouth, she didn’t hope. Instead she walked back to the shore, plopped on the ground and sighed.

“God, I’m probably going crazy.” Onyankopon put a hand to his forehead and shook his head. “I should go to sleep.” His voice was tighter and Hange could have sworn she heard a crack. She didn’t even think that voices could experience wear and tear until then.

Seconds after that, Onyankopon made the trek back to the house.

Hange stayed behind. She lay back down on the sand, a bag of disappointment. An air of disappointment. A nothingness of disappointment.

When she was nothing, she was free but somehow, staring up at the sky, she realized, maybe she would have given up her freedom for just a little more time.

***

“Do you believe in ghosts?”

Falco brought it up hesitantly over lunch. Even with his experience in the war, he was surprisingly still meek, easily rattled.

“Why are you asking about ghosts?” Gabi asked as she pierced another potato with her fork, so forcefully that it almost made Hange jump.

“Well at night… maybe even really early in the morning… Sometimes I hear the creaks of the floorboard coming from Levi’s room,” Falco said. He turned to Levi questioningly. “Did you ever hear anything?”

“I’m usually asleep.” Levi shrugged as he clumsily guided another spoonful of soup to his mouth. Learning to eat with his left hand was slow going but everyday, he was making some progress.

“Does anyone else hear it?” Falco’s eyes darted, alternating between the two other faces.

“This is an old house,” Gabi said.

“But why Levi’s room… there shouldn’t be… Levi can’t even walk right?” Falco argued.

“You read too many ghost stories…” Gabi’s tone was unchanging.

“What if it is a ghost?” Onyankopon dropped his own spoon and leaned back on his seat.

Gabi’s jaw dropped. “Don’t tell me you believe him?”

“You know, I took a walk along the coast last night.” Onyankopon pointed towards the window, tracing a line with his pointer finger for emphasis. “And I thought I saw someone there.”

“Maybe it was a trick of the light,” Gabi suggested. “There are jellyfish down there at this time of year right? And there were lots of stars last night…” Her words deteriorated to unintelligible babbling and Hange almost suspected she was a little more scared than Falco was.

Onyankopon shook his head. “It looked like a person.

Gabi’s hand was halfway to her mouth before she dropped it back on the plate. “It’s a trick of the light.”

“You know, in my culture, we believe ghosts exist. Ghosts of our ancestors, our friends, they all watch over us,” Onyankopon said, his voice light. “Or that is what my grandmother used to teach me. And if you don’t believe in them… You’re insulting them… And they might just come to haunt you!” He had said that last part loudly, a stark contrast from the overall volume of the conversation. It had seemed scary at first, before settling as something more playful.

Hange snorted.

Gabi didn’t see the play in it, she screamed, jumping up. “Maybe we really should get out of here. I wanna go back to Marley…” She buried her head in her hands. Her breaths came slow and deep, sometimes in heaves and exhales.

Exasperated or terrified. Before Hange could even make sense of it, Gabi quickly sat up.

Levi spoke up, his calm voice caught the attention of the room. “Even if there is a ghost here, even if there’s one in my room…” He worked his way slowly through those words.

Falco interrupted. “Aren’t you scared?”

Levi shook his head. “No, I feel more comforted than scared.”

“Why?” Falco asked. He moved to the seat next to a seemingly shaken Gabi.

Levi was playing with his food then and it looked as if he had no intention of putting it in his mouth. He hummed for a second longer.

“I’ve seen a lot of death in my life,” he started. “Even after my friends die, I worry about them. I wonder what happens to them after…If they see darkness or if they really just stop…maybe they don't even know what darkness is anymore.” He paused and took a deep breath. “But if ghosts exist at least I’m reassured, when people die, they don’t just… stop existing. It’s a reminder that maybe even after death, it’s not just nothing. There’s something after...” Levi could have said something more, but he didn’t and soon the anticipation died down to dead air.

After a brief silence, conversation shifted to plans after Levi’s recovery, Gabi and Falco’s plans when they grow a little older.

Levi kept quiet, instead focusing on getting the food into his mouth and Hange couldn’t help but note, he was eating much faster. Somehow, he had managed to chew with a ghost of a smile on his lips.

***

The conversation had proved to be informative. Hange only needed her sharpened deduction skills to make use of it.

She held her working hypotheses like a charm.

Hypothesis one: She was in one world and they were in another one

Hypothesis two: Sometimes, the lines would blur.

And Hange just had to listen more closely, she just had to feel it more carefully.

Over time, she had attributed sensations, feelings as things exclusive to the rest of the world, the living and the tangible. At three in the morning, she willed herself to focus on the silence, taking stock of the characteristic something-ness of her surroundings and the characteristic nothingness of her actions as she leaned on the door of Levi’s room.

Levi was unmoving on the bed and he was a good beacon, a sight to focus on. She moved forward slowly. If she closed her eyes and willed it, she had feet, she could move forward in slow and careful steps.

One step. Then two steps. Around the third step, the floors creaked. Then the rustle of sheets filled the room then a long groan.

Those last few movements weren't her doing. Despite his injuries, Levi had quickly pushed himself to a sitting position. Even in the darkness, the wince was very visible and Hange dropped her little experiment, rushing forward towards the bed.

He didn’t feel her hands on her shoulders, he didn’t grip when she slipped her hand under his. When she looked into his eyes, she saw they were far from blank. He was looking down at the floorboards, and it looked like he was searching for something.

He continued to stare.

Hange counted a few more seconds, then a minute.“Are floorboards really that interesting?” She asked with a laugh.

He didn’t answer.

Maybe Hange could have walked back to the doorway, then made the path back to the bed again, just to let the floorboards creak one last time. She made herself comfortable though, working for a semblance of a tingle as she lay on the bed next to Levi.

She felt a pang of regret when Levi let out a shuddered breath and fell back on the bed. She had known him long enough to read disappointment.

Then she didn’t have to read him anymore, he spoke up in silence. “If you’re the ghost, you’re free to haunt me all you want. Make the floors creak as loud as you want.”

Hange though, was done for the night. Instead, she slipped her hand much further under his. It could have been her own imagination or it could have been something more.

She didn’t have enough emotion to spare to ponder all those at once. So she squeezed hard again and concluded for herself that maybe he could have felt it too.

***

The line between her world and his was a fickle thing. In time, with the right experiments, sufficient awareness of her own surroundings, patterns showed themselves and Hange was quick to pick them out.

There were times she had wanted to cry. Guilt, sadness, regret were the first line culprits. Then there was anger, frustration at the tears she couldn’t shed. For someone without a body to hold them, emotions found other ways to channel themselves, to let themselves be known.

There were heavy waves that transformed into whirlpools. They welled inside her, they swirled into every end of her body, sometimes they manifested as tingling sensations at her tips.

When Levi lay in his bed, an alarming white, Hange was sure it was everything at once.

“Pneumonia,” Onyankopon repeated, a simple enough explanation for Gabi and Falco who had hesitantly settled in the room.

Onyankopon continued. “He might have to stay overnight at the hospital. I called some help to get him transported to the nearest town.”

“Nothing they can fix here?” Falco asked.

Onyankopon shook his head. He didn’t say anything more. He was silent when help came and when the paramedics carried Levi like he was a starved child. Hange only noticed, when it had taken only one burly man to carry Levi to the ambulance, that Levi was small, very small.

Then another whirlpool of emotions took over. Anger? Pity? Regret? They were incomprehensible but they were enough to have Hange rushing behind them.

The town hospital was busier than she had expected. Her senses were suddenly heightened, maybe because it wasn’t just her world anymore. When she closed her eyes, when she let herself feel the bristle at her tips, she felt the presence of other companions. She wasn’t alone. If she called out, maybe someone would come.

Her focus was on Levi and as much as possible, she didn’t spend too much time along the hallways. She rushed into his room, behind the doctor, slipping herself through the crack of the door.

“He just has to make it through the night.” The doctor’s words were cold, firm. For a second, Hange wondered how he had managed to reach that age, making a living off of aiding patients when he had the bedside manners of a brick. “It says here he was caught in an explosion a year back, did a number on his organs.”

The smoke, the fire, maybe that was the reason, his lungs were weaker. Hange quickly deduced.

That wasn’t an excuse to die.

For a second, Hange even entertained the possibility, if he died, maybe he would see her. They could talk, catch up, hold each other. She shook those thoughts away, letting the guilt fall with it and she jumped onto the bed, next to him. “Come on, you can’t die here, You didn’t survive a decade long war just to die of pneumonia.” She let out a laugh, she timed her own breaths to the sound of the beeping of the machine, to the whoosh of the ventilator.

And she pressed herself closer to him. He was still breathing, still moving just slightly. A sign of life maybe. And the closer she went, the more she realized, she could pretend it tickled her ears.

“Fight,” she whispered.

Levi opened his eyes, turned to his side. A glimmer of hope for a second, as Hange pondered if he had seen her.

“Levi, rest.” Onyankopon was behind her again, having settled on the chair by the bedside.

Disappointed, Hange rolled out of the bed and back to the floor. The world was suddenly heavy. Whether it was their world, or hers, or both, she didn’t think too hard to tell. But she could release it somehow.

She played pretend again. She saw the side table, a bottle of water, a packet of pills and she swept over it in one violent movement.

For a second she felt hard plastic, the rough paper at her tips. Then nothing.

Everything scattered to the ground, in some chaotic order. Calm again, Hange bent down to pick it up, only to find out she didn’t feel anything again, even as she hovered closely over them.

They weren’t hers to touch anymore.

In some act of obligation or maybe act of support, Onyankopon appeared next to her. He bent down, picked up the bottle on one hand, the packet on the other then placed them back on the side table.

Then he broke the heavy silence. “Hange, if that’s you… We’re trying our best.”

When Onyankopon left for the night, it was just her and Levi in the room. Sometimes, the occasional nurse would pop in but not for long enough for Hange to have to gather herself.

She let the emotions out again, not as bursts but as streams. She found, if she gave it more than enough time to come out, they didn’t riot. They complied with limits, they acted with civility.

There was a pen on the side table, and on the wall next to Levi’s bed, there was a chart. There were numbers Hange could make sense of if she tried hard enough.

At that point, her goals were different, so she ignored it. She hovered her hand over the pouch next to it. She had managed to connect two fingers together, she just needed to do similarly with a pen in between them.

For just a second, she was successful.

But only for just a second.

The pen fell to the ground with a clatter. Hange decided it wasn’t worth it to bend over. Maybe because she theorized, if she did, she might not be able to stand up again. She stared once again at the white board. Wet hot tears welled inside her, wet hot tears that would never meet the light of day.

Hange stretched her hand out. She saw two fingers, then five as she opened up her fist, a fist she didn’t even know she had. She propped one finger nail on the board, digging it deep into the wood.

Her grip on the world was consistent enough at least that she could manage one rough and dotted line. So she traced it again and again, until the dots were completely carved over. That one straight line turned into another.

It turned out to be an unsettling sensation. The whiteboard made an ugly whittling sound, it danced even against her shaky touch. The few times their worlds connected, she felt a stinging phantom pain at her tips.

There was nothing to feel pain for her. There were no nails to break, no fingertips that could bleed. There was no living entity to take the consequences of leaving a shoddily covered sign on the whiteboard. Besides, it was small enough anyway, that anyone could easily brush it off.

Then she wondered if Levi would see it. Maybe he wouldn’t. At that point, she was too far gone, so she finished the message then allowed herself one last peek of Levi’s sleeping face. She sluggishly made her way to the corner of the room, lowered her body back down and closed her eyes.

It would be a long night.

***

By some miracle, Levi recovered quickly.

By the next morning, they removed some of the tubes. By evening, he could sit up, even for just a bit.

Hange had made enough of an effort to last even her afterlife. She was exhausted. Maybe dispirited was the right word? But it was a strange feeling that made the days move faster. She did not have much control over speed, over thought.

Even when visitors had come one after the other, even when Levi had attempted to sit up, she couldn’t bring herself to rush beside him. He was there though, he was alive and that had been good enough.

The next evening, a nurse finally pointed it out. “Someone wrote on the chart.”

“Did you coordinate the other nurses?” Onyankopon asked.

The nurse shook her head. “Not write… Carve. There’s a message here, carved on the edge of the board.” She undid it from its place on the bed and gently placed it on the side table. “Did any of your visitors do this?”

“So far, only Gabi, Falco and I have visited…” Onyankopon trailed off.

“Do you recognize the handwriting?” The nurse slid the board to a better angle, easier for Levi to crane his neck and take a look.

“It’s hard to tell…It looks like it was carved on the board with a fingernail...” Onyankopon said. “Levi, do you?”

“No.” he said it too easily.

Hange held herself closer. A part of her wanted the corner to swallow her whole.

The nurse shook her head. “Maybe we just didn’t notice it before. Could have been from another patient…” She muttered about other theories Hange didn’t bother to mule over.

Soon the nurse was out the door anyway and it was just Onyankopon and Levi in the room.

Levi spoke up. “Onyankopon… What if I told you, it looks like her handwriting?” His voice was weak. For Hange, it was strong enough to turn complete desolation to a glimmer of hope.

“If you think it’s her handwriting. I don’t see why we can’t stick with that assumption.”

Levi leaned back on the bed. “Well, it’s nice words to live by, especially if it came from her.”

Onyankopon nodded. “It is.” Then he slid his fingers over the wooden frame. “Live on.”

“Live on, Levi,” Hange whispered. To hell if those words even touched the still air of the room.

***

Hange became obsessed with noise. Many types of noise: The creak of the floorboards at her feet, the bump on the walls, the thump when items swayed with just a shrivel of wind.

The more she let emotions take over, the more things went bump and she started to realize it was an exhausting ordeal. Sometimes, the natural laws didn’t listen. Sometimes her hands didn’t connect with surfaces, sometimes hands permeated through solids.

Disheartened, Hange stood by the side of the kitchen a day after Levi was released by the hospital. He had retired to his bedroom as soon as they arrived home.

It was Onyankopon, Falco and Gabi gathered on the table. Hange took one of the empty seats, pretending that she was very much in need of the same comforts as everyone else.

“Have you ever gone down to the beach?” Onyankopon asked. It was an odd opening statement but as soon as Hange scanned the faces, noting the sullen mood. She realized there were only too many things one can say to even attempt to lighten it.

“A few times,” Gabi answered.

“But not at night right? At this time of the year?” Onyankopon asked. “Sometimes, the jellyfish would get washed up on shore and when they glow… it’s a beautiful sight.”

It has been a year since the last time Hange walked along the edge.

“What do you think?” Onyankopon asked. “We could go down, just long enough to cheer you two up.”

“We’re not sad,” Falco said, an uncomfortable grin on his face. “We’re just worried.”

“I’d rather you didn’t waste your time on that. Levi’s gonna be fine. Besides, we’ve lived here for more than a year already, it’s unbelievable to me that you haven’t seen it.”

It didn’t take much prodding after. The three made the trek all the way down from the cliff, they took to the staircase with prudence. Hange took the short more dangerous way, making the fifty feet drop down to the coast.

The blue jellyfish were there again, like they were every single other time. Onyakopon had been taking more walks, Hange had to note. Maybe that was how he had figured it out.

Eventually, they were all lined up at the coast, their expressions all showed different levels of wonder.

“I told you right? I saw someone the last time I was here,” Onyakopon started.

Gaby held herself close and Falco stepped forward, nearer to the shores.

Surprisingly, Falco had done the braver thing. “Who did you see?” He asked.

Onyankopon shook his head. “It could have been a trick of light. But you know, if you ask for a name…" He paused for a second, seeming deep in thought. "I could have sworn it was Commander Hange Zoe.”

Commander Hange Zoe.

In a world where she was a nothing, constantly floating amongst shifting lights and shifting darks, her name said aloud by someone other than herself, was a strong grip. Long ago, she was alive. Long ago, she existed. And maybe even after that, she continued to exist. If that limbo she found herself in, counted as existing.

It did count as existing. She was still very much Hange Zoe.

Realization was a burst of energy. Something that had her running forward again, just like a year ago, through the glowing blue, through the shallow salt waters that should have tickled at her shin.

It was like that scene last year again, with just two extra visitors.

“Did you see that?” Falco asked.

“See what?” Gabi asked.

Falco shook his head. “It could have been a trick of the light… But there was someone there in a green---”

“In a green cloak, then the wings of freedom?” Onyakopon said, a good guide for the two young kids.

Falco nodded. “The wings of freedom… The blue and white symbol right?”

“That was the symbol of the survey corps," Onyankopon explained.

Falco hummed. “If I’m not the only one who saw it… That means…” He still seemed unsure of his own conjecture.

And it turned out Gabi wasn’t in any hurry to help. “Ghosts don’t exist! Let’s go back upstairs.”

***

Some people saw it, some people didn’t. Hange only had to look back at her own experiences with ghosts to stumble upon the conclusion.

There were believers. There were zealots. There were warriors. There were scaredy cats, even among the battle hardened soldiers.

Over the years, it was a lingering belief, a passing one. When it became her whole life though, she decided to give it more than just a passing thought. Onyankopon could see with the right combinations of lights and Falco had proved the same.

When there were only four people in that house, barring the occasional visitor, It was only natural that her thoughts would fly to Levi. He was the only one after all among the four, who hadn’t witnessed the lights show for himself.

Timing though was a tricky thing. After all, the lights only came together once a year. If they were lucky, twice. If they were unlucky, none at all for that season. And Levi was in no position to walk, let alone climb down such a dangerous set of stairs.

A part of her would rather he never did anyway. He might even die just making the trip to the beach.

Live on. She held those words like a charm, as she sat by his bed, silently watching his sleeping face.

Even if ‘living on’ only composed of long days locked in the bedroom, of long hours in the reading room turning pages of books. After all, there was something beautiful about the small yet noticeable changes. The way Levi was sleeping more, yet waking up earlier.

He was turning pages faster. Sometimes Hange heard the rustles more incessant, loud sounds crammed into a second and she thought to herself, how it would have been nice to feel the rough paper on her skin again.

Onyankopon probably held the same thought. He never told Levi that he had seen a silhouette of Hange down at the beach. Hange could have sworn she had heard their hushed conversation about it, at three in the morning.

Would Levi have gone down if he knew?

Maybe he would have. No, Hange was sure she he would have. After all, he continued to look for her.

Hange still made the floors creak. Sometimes, they came as a high chirp, sometimes a low rumble. Still, every single one, had been enough to have Levi stirring, turning on his side, just to get a good look at the floor, the very boring wooden floor.

Sometimes, he would sit up on bed, still staring expectantly at the wooden floor underneath.

When Hange thought it important that Levi got some rest, she minimized it. Instead, forcing herself to stay calm as she lay next to him on the bedside.

And she learned overtime, at their calmest, at their most relaxed, spirits were very much invisible, maybe even dead to the world.

Dead enough to forget her own name? For a second there, she almost forgot who she was.

***

Time passed, by some miracle, Levi’s world got a little bigger. There was no prodding, no pressure to get better. It was only Levi’s pride that had him leaning on the side table, foregoing the wheel chair for slow painstaking steps.

Stairs were still a mind game, still a circle of hell for him but he had learned to let the bannisters do their work. If he held on tightly enough, shifting all the weight to his good leg, he could get down in time.

Many times, Hange had to stop herself and force herself to stand idly by. For a while, she had been almost envious of the bannister for having the right facilities to support him.

Once again, envy had her remembering, she was nothing but a ball of memories, a ball of emotions, only held together by faith and beliefs every year. It was the work of the concrete and the tangible, to keep Levi up.

Falco and Onyankopon still went down to the beach every single year. Sometimes, they called her by name, sending another wave of energy through her, letting the memories rush through her at once.

She was still Hange Zoe. She would always be Hange Zoe. In the next life, maybe in the life after that. That was what had her going, sitting by Levi’s bed every night. As long as she kept a tight grip on memories, they were still very much there.

Years passed in a very conspicuous way when there were two kids in the house.

Within years, Falco shot up. Suddenly, he was strong enough to carry Levi down the stairs on bad days. Gabi was getting taller as well, Soon, her head barely brushed Onyankopon’s ear.

It wasn’t just the people that changed though. Although that had been enough for Hange to realize, time was passing. There were other things that came abruptly.

Like an eviction notice.

“We’re gonna have to move,” Onyakopon said over lunch one day. He slapped the document on the table, and shook his head.

Of course, they couldn’t stay there forever. It wasn’t their land. They were merely paying rent, at the mercy of a landlord.

“Wait, why?”

“They wanna reclaim the land, turn it into a small port,” Onyankopon explained with a shrug.

“Wait, reclaim the land… You mean?” It was Falco who first put two and two together.

“The beach?” Gabi added.

“They’ll put more sound and soil over the water, build a street over it,” Onyankopon said.

“The jellyfish?” Falco asked.

“They’ll have to find another place to live?” Onyankopon seemed noticeably sad for a bunch of jellyfish.

“It’s not just tha--” Falco’s eyes were wide with horror. He turned to Levi before settling on the plate in front of him. “How long do we have?”

Onyankopon turned the paper around then put his finger on the first line on the upper right. “A month.”

For one season a year, the jellyfish would line the coast.

By some coincidence, or maybe by fate, it was already that season and if they were lucky, maybe they could catch it one more time in between packing things and cleaning the house.

Hange decided, she would rather it was coincidence than fate. Fate had already proven multiple times to have a cruel hand.

“You wanna go down to the beach? One time before we leave? It’s beautiful out there,” Onyakopon brought up the question while Levi had been putting away books from the shelf, throwing them into boxes.

“What does the beach have that I can’t imagine here?” Levi asked.

Maybe if Hange had a voice, she could have explained it. The way the lights mixed amongst each other, creating colors no one would have ever believed to have existed. If she was there, that would have worked. Even if the words didn’t work, if she had hands, if she had control over the tangible, she would have pulled him with one hand. Hell, she would have carried him herself.

Onyankopon had his own experiences, his own words. They turned out to be just as effective. “Hange.”

Levi looked back, his eyes wide. He didn’t respond. Maybe he had been too preoccupied with the shaking of his hands, uncontrollable shaking that ended with one heavy book splayed on the floor.

Onyankopon rushed to pick it up. “It’s beautiful down there. The jellyfish rest near the shores before they migrate elsewhere. They glow at night and the stairs look beautiful behind it. Sometimes, it’s enough to forget reality.”

Levi dropped his shoulders. “If they’re gonna reclaim the land, maybe it would be worth it to see it one last time.”

Onyankonpon sighed. “I’m gonna have to warn you, the trek is hard.”

“I think I’ve recovered enough for a small walk.”

***

A small walk was a very dangerous understatement. Levi lived on understatements though.

Hange just wanted to make sure, that understatement wouldn’t have been enough to kill him.

So she didn’t jump down. She crouched down over the cliff and watched as he descended the first steps. When she found herself having to bend over further just for a horrible and awkward angle, she decided to just take the drop and watch from the beach.

It took approximately fifteen minutes to get him down and Hange counted three times where she had ended up letting out a half scream before Falco or Onyakonpon had pulled him back at the last minute.

That one last almost-fall had been the scariest. Maybe because for that split second, Levi’s jaw dropped, his eyes widened. He seemed to have lost control of himself in that second.

Hange understood though just why he had seemed uncharacteristically disconcerted. It was in the glowing blue reflected in his eyes.

“If we show this to the landlord, do you think he’ll spare it?” Falco asked. It was a pathetic question and both a yes or a no wouldn’t have sufficed.

Levi sat back down on the sand in three stilted movements. “They don’t listen to anything but money,” he answered softly. The venom in his voice hinted that he could have said more.

“Let’s just treat this as the last time,” Onyakopon said.

Hange gripped time again and counted backwards. Five years.

Five years since Onyankopon had first seen her. Then the next year it had been the three of them. Then the remaining years it had been Falco and Onyankopon visiting.

Five times was enough though to get attached, especially when the view was strange enough to take someone’s breath away.

And it would be the last time they could appreciate that view. Hange wasn’t too surprised when she heard ragged breaths and soft sniffles behind her.

“We’ll just have to look for another one,” Falco shrugged.

“But do you think we’ll ever find one that shines the same way?” Gabi asked.

“Maybe,” Levi said.

“You know Levi, if you stare at it long enough, you might just see ghosts.” Onyankopon added playfully, close enough to Levi that it could have been just for him.

“I’d love to see a ghost,” Levi said, barely a whisper.

Hange had been close enough to hear it. She saw that as a cue to step forward, lightly over the sea of jellyfish. When she looked down, the water didn’t ripple. She hovered over it like a spirit, like air, like a trick of the light.

Onyankopon and Falco’s own belief had already convinced her long before, that with that exact way that the lights from the sky and the lights from the shores cooperated, the line between the two worlds blurred.

And there were just certain people, who could distinguish others as more than a trick of the light.

For how long would they see it? She never thought deep enough to find out so she didn’t know. If she could get a message across, it couldn’t hurt to try.

Maybe that would be the last place she could ever be visible. How many beaches shone with the same glowing blue? How many skys still glimmered with a clear view of the stars above?

More importantly, even if other places existed, were they so easily found? Especially when the three were constantly on the run from angry soldiers around the world.

Hange looked back, to see that Onyankopon and Falco had focused on her again, their mouths completely agape.

“Do you see her?” Onyankopon managed to ask, after one deep breath.

“See what?” Levi asked.

And with that question, disappointment blanketed the air of wonder.

“She’s glowing, green, brown, red just like when she died. Then a burning blue.”

Levi didn’t answer. His eyes seemed blank. They darted from each corner for a second before looking ahead then they narrowed. His lips trembled with what Hange could guess was frustration.

“And she’s smiling,” Onyankopon said.

Hange had to admit, she had let the warmth of the moment take over.

“A sad smile,” Falco continued.

Hange had to admit, she gave some of that disappointment free reign inside her.

“All I see is light,” Levi said.

“You get it!” Gabi put her hands up. “I thought I was the only one just seeing late. They made me think I was crazy for seeing nothing.”

Hange shook her head before she turned back to Onyankopon and Falco. The two were still staring.They wouldn’t hear her, Hange had tried too many times before.

But maybe if she mouthed something, they would get it. She didn’t let a silent sound escape her lips. At the same time, she made sure to enunciate every syllable.

“Did you catch that?” Falco asked.

Onyankopon only nodded. “Maybe I did.”

Hange blithely made her way back to the shore and bent over next to Levi. The sand didn’t crunch as she fell back on it. Over time they stopped making even the slightest sounds and she realized, maybe she didn’t mind being nothing.

“This might be the last time we're going to see something like this. Enjoy it,” Onyankopon said.

“I am,” Levi said.

“Take all the time you need.”

For a while they were silent. For how long? Hange didn’t bother to count anymore. Maybe it was the better choice to just let time flow in some incomprehensible way. After all, time was a concept exclusive to the living.

Levi let out a strange sound, a mix between a crack and a ragged breath. Then he spoke up. “I can’t help but think, Hange would have liked to see this.”

Onyankopon’s response came out seeming unrehearsed. “She likes it. I’m sure she does.”

“You think she got to see it?”

I got to see it every single time Levi. Hange decided, thinking it was enough.

“She was walking through it,” Onyankopon said. “Right Falco?”

Falco nodded lightly. “She was.” He had always been a genuine person and maybe that was why Levi had swallowed it so quickly, even if it could have seemed like a lie at first.

“What did she say?” Gabi asked.

Levi didn’t verbalize it. In fact, he seemed to have been asking the same question.

It was Onyankopon’s question to answer and he approached it like a painter muling over his first piece. “‘Take care of Levi.’ She told me to take care of you.”

#levihan #levihan fanfiction

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valdomarx · 4 years ago

Text

Inseparably Entwined

Stargate Atlantis, McKay/Sheppard, bound together, 2k, rated M

Elizabeth pinches the bridge of her nose. "What did you two do now?"

"We. Uhh. We found another Ancient device."

"And, instead of cataloguing it for a hazmat team to investigate, as per protocol, you decided to play with it?"

“To investigate it,” Rodney corrects. “Like the competent professionals we are.” John punches him in the arm.

Elizabeth's lips purse into a thin line. "And then you accidentally activated it?"

John winces. "And then we accidentally activated it."

"Of course you did. And its effects are…?"

"Non lethal," Rodney says, a bit too quickly.

Elizabeth mumbles something that might be don't bet on it under her breath. "Non lethal, but…?"

John shifts his weight and stares at a point behind her head. "McKay and I have to stay within ten feet of each other at all times or we both pass out."

For a moment there is stunned silence. Then the sound of Elizabeth's bark of laughter fills the office and spills out into the gate room.

Carson waves a hand. “You’re both going to be fine. It looks like the bond is only temporary.”

Rodney fidgets. “How temporary?”

“I couldn’t say. A few days, maybe a few weeks?”

“Weeks?” John chokes out. “Listen, doc, we need you to fix this -”

Carson cuts him off. “I’m sorry, son, but I’ve got more important things on my plate right now.” He looks pointedly around the infirmary which is admittedly full of marines being treated for combat injuries, Athosians coming in for checkups, and troops of medical staff organizing vaccinations for off-world groups.

John deflates. “So we’re stuck with each other?”

Carson pats him on the shoulder. “Good luck.”

Rodney looks up at that. “Hey!”

“Absolutely not.” John recoils in horror. “We are not sleeping in your room.”

“But all my stuff is in there.”

“Your room is disgusting. If you think I’m sleeping on the floor among half-finished bags of cheetos and bits of drones, you are sorely mistaken. It’s a wonder you haven’t attracted the Lantean equivalent of rats.”

“I’ll have you know the bags of cheetos are almost entirely finished.”

“Rodney -”

“Alright! We’ll sleep in your oh-so-tidy quarters. Military spick and span, no snacks or useful bits of machinery in sight.” Rodney rounds on him, waving a finger in his face. “But if I get an inspired idea in the middle of the night and can’t find a circuit board to test it on, know that it’s your stubbornness that is robbing humanity of another of my great concepts.”

John hides a smile. “I’ll have to find a way to live with myself.”

When the doors to John’s quarters slide open, Rodney’s jaw drops.

“Hey! How come you have a bigger bed than me?”

John shoots him a smug look. “I upgraded after the last attack. Benefits of command.” It was one of the very few benefits of command he was willing to take advantage of.

“Oh, that’s how it is, hmm? We’re living in a military dictatorship here, with all the best perks and boons given to the highest ranking officers? Never mind that it’s the scientists who do all the actual work, who discover new technology and solve the problems, oh no, let’s give out the biggest and comfiest beds to the military guys, as if that’s fair -”

“McKay!” he interrupts. Rodney looks like he’s having fun, gearing up for a good rant, but John honestly can’t take it right now. “Go to sleep, I’m begging you.”

Rodney huffs, clearly saving that rant away for another time. “Fine.”

John is woken up for the third time that night by Rodney fidgeting on the floor and sighing dramatically.

“What is it, McKay?” His voice is testy. He doesn’t love having his sleep interrupted.

“I can’t get comfortable. A sleeping bag on the floor is bad for my back.”

John stares at the ceiling and counts to ten. He looks at the ample space next to him and calculates his best odds of getting some sleep tonight. “Come here and share the bed with me then.”

Rodney eyes his mattress dubiously. “I’ll have you know I require a very firm mattress, for spinal support, not that I’d expect you to understand -”

“For god’s sake, get in the bed. It has to be better than the floor.”

A moment’s pause. “Yeah, alright.”

It’s been a long time since John slept next to someone. His rare hookups have mostly involved sneaking out in the middle of the night, and even when he was married they slept in separate beds most of the time.

Sleeping next to Rodney is, surprisingly, not awful though. Sure, he steals all the covers and moves around all the time and, of course, he snores, but John finds that he strangely doesn’t mind.

John has seen Rodney under fire, seen him at his best, seen him happy and sad and angry and bored. But he’s never seen him first thing in the morning before.

“Whazzat?” Rodney’s eyes barely open. His expression is one of overriding confusion. “Whzz going on?”

John stifles a smile at his resident genius. He’s been up for an hour already, showered, done his laundry, and cleaned his space. He’s also decided to play nice and share his secret.

“Here,” he says, and hands a mug of freshly brewed coffee to Rodney. “Just don’t tell anyone I snuck coffee and a kettle into my personal effects, or the scientists will raid us in the middle of the night.”

“Coffee!” Rodney is still radiating confusion, but he hones in on the cup of coffee like a laser. A blissful smile passes over his face. “You brought me coffee.”

“I did.”

“You’re wonderful.” Rodney takes the coffee and cradles it like something precious and rare.

After a day and a half doing paperwork in the lab because they can't go off-world, John has reached the end of his rope.

"I'm going to the gym," he snaps. "You can either come with me or we'll both end up in the infirmary when I try to go there alone."

Rodney glares and is clearly about to start arguing when Zelenka elbows him. He sighs dramatically but agrees that they can take an hour away.

While they're both in the gym and John needs a sparring partner, he figures he might as well teach Rodney some self defense. The idea of Rodney needing to defend himself makes something unpleasant twist in his gut, but he pushes that away and argues they should make the most of this time and do something productive. To his surprise, Rodney agrees, and they run through some basic drills and defensive maneuvers.

Rodney is bad at this, frankly. He's all elbows and poor coordination, but he's trying.

John is feeling magnanimous, and he knows the value of a bit of positive reinforcement. So when Rodney steps forward and attempts a clumsy hip throw, he leans in and lets himself be thrown.

Rodney looks astonished that actually worked, before delightedly pouncing on John and pinning him to the floor.

"Got you," he says, face pink and grinning wickedly.

John's heart picks up, somehow distracted by Rodney's heavy weight on him and the sharp brightness of his smile. He swallows thickly.

"I guess you do."

“Geez, Sheppard, how long does it take to have a shower?” Rodney’s voice carries through the bathroom door. “I want to run some simulations on the city’s power systems with Zelenka.”

John’s cheeks flush and he tries to tune Rodney out. “Just give me a minute, will you?”

“What are you doing in there anyway, jerking off?”

John goes very, very still.

“Oh my god, you are!”

“Shut up, McKay.”

“No, no, don’t let me stop you. You go ahead and enjoy yourself.”

“I hate you.”

“I’m not judging. It’s perfectly natural. And hey, maybe it’ll help you chill the fuck out for once.”

John scowls, gives up, and shoves his dick back in his pants. “I will kill you in your sleep.”

John is used to having to drag McKay around after him on missions, so in some ways their new situation isn’t entirely unfamiliar.

Tac vests are useful for that; full of hand holds he can grab when he needs McKay to get down under cover or to stop him from wandering off to look at some shiny piece of technology. When Rodney is in uniform, he can grab the collar of his shirt, though Rodney complains that it creases the fabric horribly.

So John finds a compromise. When he has stuff to do and Rodney is dawdling, he grabs his hand and steers him in the right direction. After a while it becomes second nature - whenever there’s danger or something important is happening, he takes Rodney’s hand and they set off to deal with it together.

If any of the marines find it funny to see their commander holding hands with the head of science during a crisis, none of them dares to mention it.

John is carefully, carefully tending to his hair. Just the right amount of product, to spike it just the right amount to look effortless. He tweaks and ruffles, tugs and shapes. This is an art form which requires judicious maintenance.

“Oh, for the love of -” Rodney grabs the tub of hair wax out of his hands. “We’ll be here all day. Let me.”

He steps forward and slides his hands into John’s hair, ruffling it vigorously. His fingers are firm on John’s scalp and he tugs just on the right side of too hard.

Rodney steps back and surveys his work. “That’ll do.”

John glances in the mirror and sees a chaotic, wild mess. He looks like he’s run a marathon, with his pink cheeks and mussed hair, or like he’s rolled out of bed after a night of passion.

“Rodney! I can’t go out like this.”

“Oh, shut up. You look smoking hot, like you always do.”

That’s… What? What does that mean? Why the hell would Rodney say that?

“Come on,” Rodney is saying, already on his way out the door. John has to run after him, cheeks still flushed.

They find a rhythm.

John gets up first and puts the coffee on while he showers. He’s given up on trying to tidy Rodney’s side of the room, so he lets the piles of circuit boards and screwdrivers sprout up where they will. Once Rodney is up they get breakfast at the mess, then he spends the morning doing paperwork and writing reports in the science lab while Rodney works. They meet Teyla and Ronon for lunch, then he spends the afternoon drilling the marines while Rodney taps away at a laptop. Evenings, they bicker over which movies to watch in their quarters and throw popcorn at each other.

Elizabeth even agrees to let them travel to the mainland, and then to go on low-stakes reconnaissance missions.

It’s… comfortable, he realizes. It works.

That thought makes something twist in his chest, and he doesn’t know why.

“Morning, sunshine.” John pours Rodney a cup of coffee.

“Mmm.” Rodney is still sleep-rumpled, but he struggles upright and smiles softly. “Morning.”

As he hands over the coffee, Rodney catches his wrist and holds him there. He looks down at the mug, then back up at John. John notices in an abstract way that his eyes are very, very blue.

“Thanks,” Rodney says, and pecks him on the lips.

Right. Okay. That’s a thing. That’s a thing they’re doing now.

John is still processing as Rodney gets up and heads for the shower. “I’ve got a meeting with Miko this morning,” he says over his shoulder, normal as ever, “so we might have to push our gym session back by half an hour -”

He keeps chattering away while John sits on the bed and has a minor crisis. Did they… do they… but that would mean…

By the time Rodney is out of the shower, John has made a decision.

He doesn’t allow himself to overthink it, he just takes Rodney’s face in his hands and kisses him deeply. Rodney’s arms tighten around his waist and his tongue slips into his mouth and oh. Oh yes. That’s good.

John’s a little breathless, a little dizzy. “Are we really doing this?” he asks.

Rodney’s face scrunches up in amusement. “I think we’ve been doing this for weeks.”

Yeah. Okay. That’s a fair point.

The tense feeling that’s been winding around his chest uncoils, and in its place is nothing but blooming warmth.

“I guess we have.”

EPILOGUE

“Carson.” Elizabeth looks up from where she’s frowning at a tablet and gives him a polite nod. “Thanks for stopping by.”

“Any time,” Carson says, and means it. “What can I do for you?”

“I was hoping to get an update on the situation with John and Rodney. We really do need them to get back on full duty soon.”

“Ahh.” He’s been carefully avoiding that topic. He takes a breath. “To be honest with you, the bond between them wore off days ago. They could go their separate ways now and be none the worse for it.”

Elizabeth’s eyebrows fly upward toward her hairline. “And you haven’t told them yet?”

“See, at first they were in the infirmary every day asking for an update. But they haven’t been in for over a week and -”

“And?”

“They seem…” he pauses, contemplating his choice of words, “... happy.”

Elizabeth’s mouth twitches into a quickly suppressed smile. “That may be, but you have a professional responsibility.”

“Aye, you’re right. I’ll go and tell them the effects of the device have run their course.”

“Well…” Elizabeth looks thoughtful. “You have a professional responsibility to give them accurate medical information when they ask for it.”

Carson sees where she’s going with this. “And until then?”

Elizabeth shrugs and gives him a sly look. “They do seem happy.”

#mcshep #stargate atlantis #my writing #sometimes you must write the fic you want to see in the world

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grailfinders · 3 years ago

Text

Fate and Phantasms #182

Today marks the end of the Dead Heat Summer Race builds as we finish up with today’s sponsor, Ishtar (Rider)! “Ishtar is best girl, and you should give all your grails and QP to her!” Now that the ad copy’s out of the way, let’s get to her build. For this build we’re re-flavoring an old UA to create the Traveler Sorcerer (original names for everything can be found in the character sheet.) We also dip into Monk for a level because the 20th level of sorcerer is bad.

Check out her build breakdown below the cut, or her character sheet over here!

Next up: BB 2: Electric Boogaloo

Race and Background

Ishtar’s still a Protector Aasimar and she’s also still a Goddess Alliance Anarch, which means she starts out with +1 Wisdom and +2 Charisma, Darkvision, Celestial Resistance to necrotic and radiant damage, Healing Hands to slap healing into people as an action, and the Light cantrip to help out racers with dumb human eyes.

She also gets Animal Handling and Religion proficiency from her background, as well as extra spells. We’ll get into detail about that last bit as it comes up though.

Ability Scores

Not a whole lot has changed since last time; make sure your Charisma is as high as possible for good spells and good Tricking People into a Race, then make Dexterity number two to stay on your scooter as you warp between continents. Your Wisdom should also be pretty good if you want to keep an eye on anyone trying to cheat by entering a rocket into a- hold on a second.

youtube

Where were we? Oh right, after that is Constitution. Gods don’t die. Your Strength is a bit low, but we’ll make up for that with technique and speed, so dump Intelligence. Once a Useless Goddess, always a Useless Goddess.

Class Levels

Sorcerer 1: First level sorcerers get proficiency with Constitution and Charisma saving throws, as well as two sorcerer skills. Grab Deception and Persuasion so we can get this show on the road. As a sorcerer, your Spells (which you can cast using your charisma) come from a special source, which in your case is the magic of Travel. You picked a pretty bad time for it, but I’m pretty sure gods can’t get sick? Humans can though. Stay home if you’re a human. At first level, you have a Soul of the Race, giving you a swim speed equal to your walking speed, and you can breathe underwater. DHSR is probably the least water-based summer event so far, but you get a bonus in all the other ones too, so it’ll pay off if you’re patient. You can also invoke the Curse of the Race after hitting a creature with a cantrip, lasting until the end of your next turn or until you curse another creature. Once per turn, you can trigger the curse by hitting the creature with a spell that has one of three requirements. If it deals cold damage, their speed is reduced by 15′ for a turn, or by the amount the spell already slows them by, whichever is greater. (You say you don’t play favorites, but that’s a lie.) If it deals lightning damage, it deals extra damage equal to your charisma modifier. If it forces movement, add 15 feet to the distance moved. Perfect for when you have to ground a rocket. You get a lot of spells this level, like Sword Burst for a good melee option while we wait to multiclass, True Strike so your punches can be slightly less bad, Friends to help coerce people into the race, and Prestidigitation to make yourself some free gems. For leveled spells, grab Chaos Bolt and Chromatic Orb for ways to trigger your curse with plausable deniability. Chromatic Orb even uses a diamond to cast, flavor win! You also get plenty of spells from your background for some more... “explosive” results. You get the cantrips Fire Bolt and Produce Flame, and the spells Compelled Duel, Speak with Animals, and Thunderwave.

Sorcerer 2: Compared to level 1, this level’s got a lot less going on. You become a Font of Magic to get your sorcerer level in sorcery points each long rest, which are mostly going to be useful at third level, and you can cast Distort Value to make your gems even more beautiful just by being around you.

Monk 1: Yeah, let’s just slide this in right now, why not? First level monks get Unarmored Defense to make your AC 10 + your dexterity modifier + your wisdom modifier. It’s not quite as good as mage armor, but it’s free. You also get Martial Arts, meaning your unarmed attacks use dexterity instead of strength, deal 1d4 damage, and you can attack as a bonus action if you attack as an action. Honestly you could’ve just used a knife before, but this is more flavorful. You also get to unleash your Radiant Soul as an action. You transform into a fancy shiny version, granting you flight and extra radiant damage once per turn.

Sorcerer 3: Third level sorcerers can spend their sorcery points on Metamagic to mix up your magic in a meta way. Extended Spell doubles the length of a spell’s duration, (very useful later) and Twinned Spell lets you take any spell that hits one target and make it hit two instead. You’re going to make a scooter fly eventually, it might be worth it to make sure you fly too. Fewer broken bones that way. For your first second level spell, grab Alter Self as one last preparation to trick people into racing by transforming into those close to them. You can’t change your general body type though, so you can’t turn into Charon to get Achilles to help out. Alternatively, you can use this to make natural weapons that deal 1d6 magical damage, and get a +1 bonus to your attacks and damage. Even sorcerers can do monk stuff faster than monks. You also get more background spells, like Beast Sense and Shatter. If you need to knock a rocket back to earth in the first place, it deserves to get wrecked.

Sorcerer 4: Use your first Ability Score Improvement to bump up your Charisma for stronger spells. You also learn Dancing Lights to put on a show at the opening ceremonies, and you can cast Find Vehicle from the Modern Magic UA to summon your scooter. Technically it can be any nonmilitary land vehicle, but no matter what it is it comes with some perks. You’re automatically proficient with its handling, and double your proficiency when making ability checks about driving it. Also, spells you cast on yourself can also effect the vehicle, so I guess that twinned spell doesn’t help here. At least it gives you more damage.

Sorcerer 5: Fifth level sorcerers have Magical Guidance, making them just a bit better at everything than normal people. By spending sorcery points, you can re-roll a failed skill check, hopefully doing better. You also learn how to cast Haste to speed up your scooter to the maximum. You also learn Conjure Animals and Conjure Barrage from your background. The latter doesn’t really see play, but the former will make it a lot easier to recreate your final ascension art.

Sorcerer 6: A sixth level Traveler can use their Accel Turn to avoid damage as a reaction. When you get hit by anything dealing bludgeoning, piercing, or slashing damage, you can reduce it by your sorcerer level plus your charisma score (not your modifier, your entire score) and move 30′ away without provoking attacks. You can use this once per short rest. You can also cast Fly now. I don’t think you ever actually touch the ground, do you? (You get resistance to fire damage too. Suck it, Icarus!)

Sorcerer 7: Seventh level sorcerers get fourth level spells, like Dimension Door. It’s not a fantastical trip through the world’s greatest capitals, but all teleportation has to start somewhere. And for you, that somewhere is 500′ away.

Sorcerer 8: Use your next ASI to become a Magic Initiate to steal a couple spells from the Wizard spell list. Grab the cantrips Gust and Minor Illusion for an easy way to trigger your curse and so you can make cool holograms to go with your communications (coming later). You can also cast Find Familiar once per long rest to make a little doll you that can help out the racers. You can also cast Charm Monster now. It won’t be enough to convince Lobo to change sides, but it’ll make it much easier to find judges for the other legs of the race.

Sorcerer 9: If your DM’s a stickler against UA, you can use your fifth level spell slots to cast Animate Objects instead to bring a chair to life or something. You also learn Destructive Wave. Probably shouldn’t use that one while riding.

Sorcerer 10: Grab the new Metamagic option Seeking Spell for more accurate spells, re-rolling a failed spell attack. Your curse is based entirely on being able to hit people with your spells, so it’d be nice if you could do that. You also learn how to use Message to keep up communications with the racers even if they’re, say, stuck in prison somewhere, and you can use Far Step to teleport you and your scooter around in short bursts, using your bonus action each turn.

Sorcerer 11: Use your fancy new sixth level spell slots to create an Arcane Gate, creating portals between a point within 10′ of you and a point within 500′ of you. You can also spin them around as a bonus action, so feel free to get Looney Tunes with it.

Sorcerer 12: Use this ASI to max out your Charisma for stronger spells, then use that last remaining point to bump up your Dexterity. That doesn’t really help yet, but trust me on this one.

Sorcerer 13: Good news; you can finally Teleport now. The bad news is it’s a seventh level spell. Also, it has a slight chance to mess up, and if you’re traveling across the globe “messing up” by even one percent means you’re several hundred miles off course.

Sorcerer 14: At fourteenth level you finally get another Travel Souvenir, the ability to open a Maana Gate without using spells, making it easier to move around a battle field. When you move on your turn, you take half damage from opportunity attacks, and can move through enemy spaces (as long as you don’t end your turn there.) You can also pass through solid objects, as long as there’s at least a 3 inch diameter space to move through. (again, you can’t end your turn there.)

Sorcerer 15: Fifteenth level sorcerers get eighth level spells, and I highly suggest you go with Sunburst. Being able to teleport all over the place is fun, but if you’re trying to replicate Ishtar’s NP you actually need a payoff at the end, and that’s this spell. Deal tons of radiant damage with all those shiny stars, and blind creatures that fail their constitution save.

Sorcerer 16: Use this ASI to become more Resilient when it comes to dexterity saves. You gain proficiency in them, and you also get +1 dexterity for your troubles. That bumps you up to an even number again, so your AC improves, as do your unarmed strikes.

Sorcerer 17: Seventeenth level sorcerers get their final level 9 spell, and yours is Gate. This lets you create a portal to a precise location for up to a minute, with no chance of mucking up unless a nearby deity isn’t a fan. The downside is this specifically only works on extraplanar trips, but I’m sure you can find enough sightseeing locations to make that work. To make travel even faster, you get your final Metamagic option, Quickened Spell. Cast action spells as a bonus action now, yay.

Sorcerer 18: At eighteenth level you receive your final souvenir, a Traveler’s Soul. Now you don’t need to eat, drink, or sleep, you can ignore critical hits against you, as they only count as normal hits, and you have resistance to bludgeoning, piercing, and slashing damage. People seem to focus on the “useless” part of your title way more than the “goddess” part. Show them why they shouldn’t do that.

Sorcerer 19: Use your last ASI for the Tough feat to grab 40 more HP. Goddess or not, nobody wants to get Power Word Killed.

Pros:

Your various defensive features make you surprisingly tanky for a spellcaster, with plenty of ways to negate common damage types and stay out of trouble.

Speaking of, thanks to your flying moped and teleporting you can be extremely mobile when you want to be, making it a real pain to keep you pinned down long enough to fight you.

You come packed with plenty of social spells giving you plenty of options to get away with stuff you shouldn’t. Break into secure areas, impersonate people, and charm foes.

Cons:

Your subclass’ features mostly focus on lightning and cold damage. Your damage dealing spells mostly come from your background, which focuses on fire and thunder. This means you can’t use your early subclass features to their fullest potential, which can make early fights difficult if you’re playing to character. That’s why I recommend you start off with Chaos Bolt and Chromatic Orb- they can be used practically at the start, then Ishtar-ly later on.

The curse of the sea is finicky, and it’s the only offensively minded feature you really get. It restricts your damage types, and it comes into play only every third turn unless you’re using nothing but cantrips. You can definitely feel this is a UA class.

You only have about 140 HP, and very little way to deal with magic damage. All of your defenses only worry about damage types associated with physical attacks, so most spells can still chew through you if you’re not careful.

#fgo #fate grand order #D&D 5e #dnd #Ishtar #Sorcerer #Monk

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saphirered · 3 years ago

Note

Heyyy! Long time to talk. I hope you’re enjoying your summer. I have a question about how you take requests: how specific do you like them? I saw you’re writing for EXU and I already live Orym. I would just like something soft yet funny, but I can request something specific if you’d like? Lmk 💜 thanks

-🐋

Heya! Summer's great. Hope you're enjoying yours. Requests can be as specific or nonspecific as you want them to be. As long as I know which character(s) I'm writing for and have an outline of what you want like you've done here I'm all good! Thank you for requesting and I hope this one's to your liking! 😘

Word had reached you a group of strangers had made it to the settlement of the Fire Ashari outside of Emon, among them the Air Ashari you’d been waiting for. He may have never been to Emon before but you’d met the halfling many times before in Zephrah. You’d spent plenty of time with the Air Ashari in your years but now finally, Orym got the pleasure of experiencing your humble outpost life out here himself. Well, that was the plan anyway. Sometimes plans go down the drain.

When Orym finds out several firetamers were absolutely obliterated leaving only two survivors; clearly not counting you among those two he feared for your wellbeing but much like the Ashari training provided and interactions, one must be in control of their emotions especially in these dire times. Someone would have informed him if you’d suffered an ill fate, right? He hopes so. You had been called back to the Flamereach Outpost months ago because things were spiking up and that did mean you’d be in the thick of it. All hands on deck, hence your premature separation back in Zephrah.

Orym feels wrong to say but he couldn’t be more thankful for that earthquake. Seeing you running head first into unknown danger might not do good on his stress levels but knowing you’re alive, that’s all he needs for now. Not like he and his friends don’t run into danger straight after you. On to the Oh No Plateau.

In the aftermath you were the one to escort this little group of strangers plus Orym back to the outpost. They were already a little worse for wear not used to, deal with or resistant to the ash, dust and poisonous gases, the firetamers unanimously decided it’s best to help these folks down instead of letting them find their own way. You of course volunteered to take on this task and no one was going to object as they got enough from this group to know they’re trouble. Rather you than them.

Taking the lead you answered some of their questions. You have to admit the mentions of the ‘ash-hole’ broke you enough to send you into a laughing fit. The dwarf, Dariax felt quite accomplished as these folks, your folks seem a bit more rigid and reserved, much like Orym in his opinion so it’s good to see not all of them are stuck ups.

Fearne nudged Orym on with a little push in your direction causing him to stumble. You’re dextrous enough to prevent the halfling from bumping into you possibly causing you to fall with him. Instead you catch him before he falls flat on his face. The look the two of you share does not go unnoticed by the faun and is very much revealing in the closer-than-friends kind of way.

Once conferred with Lorkathar they’re left to their own devices and the shitstorm of questions thrown at Orym to figure out who you are; or to some of them more importantly; who you are to him specifically. Orym tries to answer without giving too much of your own personal life away. It’s your life, not his and he doesn’t feel like he that’s his to share with others.

You met him in Zephrah on your journey to learn more, better your druidic skills. Part of this training was physical combat and weapons training. That’s where you grew closer. You weren’t exactly the greatest with a sword and Orym helped you go through training to where you could settle on a spear. Cue the questions about what other physical training you shared with him. Orym did not dignify that with a response. Really any question answered that lead to yet another innuendo made he did not dignify with a response.

There’s a knock on the door the group had been given to recover from the day’s events. The conversation falls silent as another knock raps lightly on the door. Dariax and Opal make eye contact before both rushing towards the door, the pleasure of answering going to whomever gets there first. They’re not sure but they hope its you. They have so little insight in the details of Orym’s life and they’re not going to let the chance fly to get some leverage on the halfling should they need to bring it up in the future if they want to commit another definitely-not-a-crime.

A white haired human dressed in pinks opens the door with a wide smile radiating mischief. You smile back although a little forced, to cover the confusion trying to peak through.

“Hi! You must be the firetamer Orym has told us all about. It’s so nice to meet you. I am Opal.” She grabs your hand and shakes it and you just let it happen. How the hell did Orym get sucked up in this group? They’re worse than you’d thought over your initial encounter. Not in a bad way just a… different one.

“Likewise. It seems like you have me at a disadvantage. You appear to know about me yet I do not know much about you. I don’t mean to be rude but I am looking for Orym, of the Air Ashari…” You exchange pleasantries but are cut off as the woman looks over her shoulder.

“Orym! Orym! Your lover is here to see you!” She screeches for the halfling who was already a few feet behind her, embarrassed this is how you’re properly reunited without the pressure of your respective lives.

“Hey.” Orym smiles through the embarrassment caused by his friends watching the two of you like some sort of play waiting what the characters will do next.

“Hey.” You smile back trying to not put too much mind to the curious company Orym had found himself in. You feel like the more attention you give them, the slimmer your chances at a calm and quiet moment with Orym will become.

“Well, don’t be rude, Orym. Invite your friend in.” Dorian perks up trying to keep the obvious ulterior motives of Opal and Dariax at bay but you weren’t born yesterday.

“I was thinking maybe we could step outside instead? I wouldn’t want to disturb your friends’ evening.” Orym catches on to your intent.

“Yeah. Yeah of course.” He brushes past Opal outside and grabs your hand practically begging you to lead the way before the others decide to keep you here.

“Enjoy your evening.” Fearne, saves your asses before the others can protests. Orym is glad to have the faun on his side and he’s pretty sure this favour granted puts him in her debt but it’ll have been worth it.

“It was nice seeing you all. I’m sure we’ll have more time to grow better acquainted in the future.”

“Have fun on your evening stroll, Orym!” Dariax wiggles his eyebrows and the halfling sends him a look to shut him up as you begin leading him away.

The sun is not yet set casting the outpost and mesa in an orange glow with the view of the city west of you. It’s a beautiful evening. Orym understands why you like sunsets so much. You bask in the rays of ember, a sight Orym hadn’t seen in too long. He hadn’t realised how much he missed this, how much he missed you. You stop at the side of a stone ruined building. You let go of Orym’s hand as you grab onto any footing you can and scale the building onto the roof. It’s only two floors tall so you lean over the edge and look down at Orym.

Getting the memo Orym climbs up following a similar path you had to reach the top. You lay down on the rooftop with a familiar comfort, as if the world’s concerns were left below. Orym had always admired this about you. It’s something he could never do himself. You turn over on your stomach, lean your elbows on the rooftop, head on your hands with a grin as you cross your legs behind you. He knows that look.

“So how does it feel being the most responsible individual among the chaos?” Orym pulls himself onto the rooftop and gives you a look. As he walks over to you he hooks his leg around your elbow and yanks making you lose your balance. You gasp and roll back over to your back supporting yourself on your elbows.

“Rude!” You laugh as Orym sits down next to you. Shoulders leaning against each other you watch the sunset. It’s a habit you had fallen into in Zephrah and it’s a habit picked back up again even after many months apart.

“I missed you.” Orym presses a kiss to the top of your shoulder.

“Missed you too.” You sigh content you’re back together once more, no matter how brief that might be as Orym and his little group of adventurers has been sent on another task to find Gilmore. You’d join if you could but you have your responsibilities here and Orym knows that like no other. Once this is all behind you things can finally go back to normal and you actually get to spend more time together without the world burning down whenever you turn your back.

“So how is it you of all people end up with this bunch of chaos bringers?” You laugh. You may not know his friends personally nor did you have much to go off in your brief interactions with them but you know well enough they’re trouble and chaos magnets. Orym, having an air of peace and calm around him shifts quickly to panic in stressful situations he doesn’t know how to navigate based on instinct and here he is navigating Emon of all places with them, getting involved in all sorts of conflict.

“Me of all people?” Orym feigns offence but he’s well aware you’re right. He’s not even sure himself how this weird little dynamic they have going works. He gives it a thought.

“Maybe I just naturally gravitate towards chaos. You are a testament of that.” Your jaw drops. Your halfling’s found himself with a new kind of boldness to him previously hidden beneath layers of Ashari customs. He may not realise it just yet himself but these people have a good effect on him.

“Are you calling me chaotic, Orym of the Air Ashari?”

“I’m sorry, but you really expect me to answer that question? You are chaos incarnate.” He laughs and you let yourself drop back, the halfling previously leaning his weight against you loses his balance and falls onto your stomach. You put your hands beneath your head watching the orange glow reflected off the clouds with a smile.

“You know what, I will take that as a compliment. Someone needs to bring a little chaos into your life. I’m glad I’m not the only one able to fulfil that task. They seem like good people.”

“They stole a vestige, broke into places and killed the henchmen of some criminal organisation all within the past twenty four hours.” Orym deadpans. He’s still a tad unsure how to feel about it.

“And you went along with it. Maybe one day you’ll be as much as a chaos incarnate as the rest of us.” Orym’s fingers lace with yours as he holds onto your hand.

“It’ll be the day the elemental chaos seeps through into this world.”

“Who says it doesn’t already. Embrace the chaos, Orym.” You wave your free hand making a cloud of embers appear above you like fireflies and make them dance in the wind. He’s already embraced the chaos and he knows it. It started with you but has extended to his new friends as well. Though, he’ll have to admit, he’ll take your chaos over theirs any day if presented with the choice. No matter. He’ll take any moment with you he can get now and be patient until you’re reunited in the future. There’s still adventures to be had, just for now your paths diverge. They’ll reconnect in the nearby future. He’s sure of it. You’re sure of it.

#exu x reader #exandria unlimited x reader #exu #exandria unlimited #orym x reader #critical role x reader #critrole x reader

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mooniefics · 4 years ago

Text

just one night

pairing : reiner braun / reader

word count : 2.9k

tags : fluff, angst, heartache, acknowledgement of reiner’s suffering </3

summary : being a field nurse had it's ups and downs, but everything about taking care of reiner braun was the best and worst thing about your job.

— originally posted 12 / 16 / 20 on ao3 —

"oh, you're finally awake." you set the tray of medical supplies in your hands down on the small desk beside the bed, shutting the privacy curtain before you returned to his side, "i was worried about you, you know?"

though most of his body had regenerated over the seven hours he'd been unconscious, he was still missing a majority of his right hand up to the wrist, the steaming, incomplete appendage he was now examining with a tired look on his face.

"what time did they bring me in?" his voice was husky with sleep, eyes low as they flitted over to look at you.

"around eighteen hundred hours yesterday," you said, placing the back of your hand on his forehead to check his temperature, "i administered some pain meds a few hours ago, but let me know if you need any more."

being a field nurse for the marleyan army wasn't the easiest job in the world, mostly consisting of lots of running around in the trenches with your heavy kit and avoiding as much gunfire and blood splatter as you possibly could while still helping the wounded. you had volunteered to work soon after the conflict with the mid-east allied forces had begun, seeing as it was either that or see your father be drafted out into the eldian unit to become cannon fodder like so many of the soldiers you'd seen barely able to crawl their way back over the sandbags just to bleed out and die before you could even begin to assess their injuries. you stopped keeping count of how many people you couldn't save after your first few days of active combat, becoming more focused on not going insane from how little you slept due to the rumbling of the ground from enemy artillery that shook the walls of the underground quarters and reading the letters your family sent from back home to maintain a shred of morale for the future.

though, the job did have some perks. it was always honorable for eldian families to have someone enlisted, and it also meant you could support your parents with your minuscule paycheck from the government. and, of course, meeting reiner braun was the biggest plus of them all, though you probably wouldn't admit it if anybody asked. you were a hard worker, and evidently had enough natural skill to quickly be promoted to the position that you were at now, assigned as one of the few nurses who monitored the wellness of the warriors and their prospective candidates.

"my regeneration has been slowing down lately, i should have more of my hand back by now." reiner murmured, more to himself than you.

"of course it has, you haven't been eating as well as you should be. i don't know much about titan biology, but i do know that a soldier like you, a warrior no less, shouldn't live off of sandwiches and beer, you've been losing too much weight."

he chuckled, a quick smile flitting across his face before he returned to his previous sulk. "you sound like my mother, chiding me about how i need to take care of myself. isn't there other patients that need your attention?"

"you wish. me and another nurse have already taken care of this entire hall, and you, mr. celebrity, get a room all to yourself." you grabbed a pen and his chart, scribbling down a few notes about his current status while you spoke, "plus, i'm supposed to be checking up on you every hour until you're all put back together, magath's orders."

he paused, thinking to himself before speaking. "so does that mean galliard is ok?" you nodded.

"and pieck?" you nodded again.

"and zeke?" you sighed, but reaffirmed once more.

"you've been checking up on me all night by the looks of it. aren't you tired?"

"gosh reiner, would it kill you to focus on yourself for a minute?" you rolled your eyes at his confusion, pulling up the chair at the desk to his bedside and seating yourself down, "this is my job, i'm used to doing my job. in fact, this is one of the easiest nights i've had in weeks. i don't know about you, but it shocks me that the guy they blew to pieces yesterday afternoon is asking me if i'm the one that needs to get some rest."

his brow furrowed, mouth drawing into a small frown. "sorry. i know that the war has been hard for all of us. i just don't want to make it any harder for you than it's already been."

you couldn't help but smile at his genuine concern, planting your elbows on your thighs and resting your chin in your hands. "you don't have to worry about bothering me, reiner." you replied softly, playfully adding, "you know you're my favorite patient anyways" just to see his cheeks flush red.

"is that so?" he murmured in reply, now smiling with you as he met your gaze.

"maybe." you teased, leaving him hanging for a few moments before you continued, "galliard's always awkward when i'm in the room, jaeger never has much, if anything, to say, and pieck, she's nice to be around, but she always looks so tired i feel a bit bad when i chat for too long with her. so, if it's anyone i'm stuck on the night shift with, i'm glad it's you."

you laughed softly at his expression, feeling a bit sheepish under his gaze. he'd changed quite a bit over the two years you'd known him, the shadows under his eyes deepening with a clear exhaustion, cheekbones becoming more pronounced and face growing gaunter as the stress of the war withered away at his physical and mental wellbeing. before you personally met, you'd always seen reiner as the physical embodiment of marley's armor, with his sturdy, unyielding frame, towering over nearly everyone he met from his stature, and the iron will that never seemed to falter no matter how many times he returned broken to the barrack's infirmary.

but now, you could see how everything had been taking a toll on him, how he was growing thinner and weaker each time he returned from a successful military assignment. you had come to learn that despite his regenerative properties, he felt every bit of pain that came with the injuries he sustained, experiencing the absolute agony of having his limbs shredded and bones shattered by cannon fire in his titan form and still having to push forward on the battlefield. you had an immense respect for him and his unyielding nature, but you always worried. even though you knew he would always manage to get himself back together again, you always worried for him. you remembered how you felt as you peeked over the sandbags, watching with a mixture of awe and dread as reiner threw himself in front of jaeger at the last moment to shield him from the unexpected volley of naval artillery, the way your heart thundered so loudly in your ears at the sight of his titan crumpling.

the relief you felt upon being ordered to his hospital room and finding him still alive was indescribable, and the relief you felt now being able to talk to him, to stare into his tired eyes and take in his handsome features you'd become so familiar with, flushed softly from your playfully exchanged words— you didn't want to see him go again.

"l-let me go get you a blanket," you said, snapping yourself out of your unnecessary thoughts, "i packed it away since i didn't want the steam to overheat you, but now that its just your hand and ankle i think it'll be ok to let you have it back now."

you quickly got up from your seat and slipped past the privacy curtain, opening up the supply cupboard with sheets and extra clipboards and things of the sort to pull out the blanket you'd originally taken off of him and put away.

you had to control yourself, to stop letting yourself be distracted by these thoughts and concerns about him. you knew as well as anyone else in marley that he didn't have long left to live. you hated that everyone referred to it as his 'term', as if after two years passed he could return home to live a peaceful life away from the war and bloodshed, to enjoy the luxuries of a normal existence that had been snatched away from him from the very start of his life. he only had two years left before he had to be eaten by one of those children, children that had similarly had their innocence and adolescence stolen from them by the marleyan government. you had told yourself over and over to not let yourself get so close to him, to not trick yourself into believing that maybe something could work between the two of you after marley's greed for natural resources had been sated and all the nations were finally at peace.

but you knew better than anyone that these feelings had been growing out of control, and each day you spent tending to him, watching him out on the battlefield, finding more and more about who he truly was besides a soldier only fed the fire you'd been fighting between fueling and snuffing out for months now. taking in a deep breath, you forced a smile onto your face, not wanting to concern him with an upset expression and risk dumping all your pathetic emotions out under his scrutiny.

"here we are." you hummed, flapping out the blanket a few times before you stretched it over his lap.

for a moment your face was close to his, close enough to see the small brown spots freckling his golden irises and realize just how intently he was gazing at you. you quickly retreated back to your seat at his bedside, still feeling his stare lingering on you, stopping yourself from asking him what was interesting enough to make him look at you for so long.

for another moment, there was silence, and you debated on making up some excuse to leave the room, but you knew you would have to come back in an hour, and he most likely wouldn't be asleep by then, but he spoke before you could think up any other escape plans.

"you know, i was happy to wake up and see you." you felt your heart skip, blinking at him, trying to make sure you weren't hearing things.

"really?" you mustered, feeling your cheeks grow warm at the sight of his smile.

"yes, really." he affirmed, the brightness on his face dampening a bit as he continued, "most of the time when i sleep, i get a lot of... memories, from my time in paradis, and they're not the most pleasant things to see while i'm asleep. and i was having another one of those dreams just now before i woke up, so it was nice to not be alone, you know? it's always reassuring to see you."

you felt a light flutter in your chest, nodding in response, torn between feeling sympathy for his nightmares or happiness from honest words. no, you had to stop being selfish. you had to stop letting yourself play along in this fantastical idea of a happy future.

"y-yeah, i understand," you replied, fixing your gaze down in your lap as you tried to avoid his intention, "i could put in a request for sleeping aids, if restlessness is becoming an issue."

"you know that's not what i'm trying to say." his hand reached out to rest over yours, giving it a gentle squeeze, imploring you to stop ignoring the obvious.

"reiner." you said firmly, lips pressing into a firm line, "we can't. i can't."

you could feeling that light, airy joy twisting down into something irksome, settling like lead deep in your stomach as he replied. "what's stopping you?"

"everything!" you snapped, stopping yourself to take a deep breath and regain control of your volume before you began again, "everything.. this war, this never-ending conflict, and.. y-your term, your life-"

"you think i don't know that?" he said softly, too softly, somber gaze flitting between the hand in his grasp and your face. he seemed so small just now, seated up against wall behind the hospital bed that was too little for him, barely covered by the thin, old blanket that was fraying at the seams, not at all like the stoic, unwavering warrior he made himself out to be in the public eye. "don't you think i'm tired of pretending? tired of having people toss the topic of my death back and forth like they're discussing vacation plans? i love marley, and i love what i can do for the people who look up to me, for the people who rely on me to be the hero. you never ask me about paradis, you never ask me about how i feel about all of this, you never expect me to be the hero, and you're still always here to listen, always here when i need you to be. but i just want to feel like i don't have to worry about all that, even if it's just for one night... i know it sounds counterintuitive, but i want to pretend like things will be alright.. for you, for me, for everyone. can't we just have this one night?"

your hand trembled, fingers lacing easily with his like you'd risked doing a few times before, tears pricking your eyes, feeling like there was something cinching around your heart and lungs and squeezing tight. the heat of his hand in yours was pleasant, calloused palm fitting perfectly against the contour of your own, thumb stroking softly over the side of your own hand.

you swallowed your apprehension, steadying your breath and blinking away the mistiness threatening to spill down onto your face as you moved from the chair to take a seat on the side of his bed. "ok. one night."

the relief that bloomed across his expression warmed your heart, the stress that had been creasing his face softening back into the relaxed, sleepy looking smile that you always poked fun at when you brought him his breakfast in the morning.

"you have to be up at seven, so lay down right, i don't want you to complain to me about your back hurting tomorrow." he complied, shifting back down in the bed to rest his head back on the pillow, allowing you to let go of his hand momentarily to tuck the blanket around him. "do you want me to go get you something to help you sleep?"

"no." he murmured, gazing up at you, "just stay here with me, please. i'll sleep just fine as long as you're here."

there was something so childlike about his words, not in the way of immaturity or naivety, but something that just made you want to take care of him, to protect him from the corruption of the world outside of the obsolete confinements of his hospital room.

"i will." you said, letting your other hand find the side of his face, "i promise."

and so you stayed, you stayed as long as he needed you to, alternating between stroking his cheek and slowly running your fingers through his hair. there were no words exchanged, but the silence was comforting, the quietest night you'd both had in weeks, only occupied by the intermittent footsteps of the other nurses making their rounds around the hall and the soft evening breeze blowing through the half-open window above the desk. you didn't care for how long you had to sit there, replying back to the small movements of his hands with your own reassuring squeeze as he slowly but surely fell back asleep. but even after his breathing had steadied out, and his grasp on your hand had loosened, you still stayed seated at his bedside, just gazing down at his sleeping face as your thought to yourself.

the war against the mid-east allied forces had come to a rocky close, most likely guaranteeing marley at least a few months of tension-filled peace before another nation made their strike on their borders once again. but you knew that marley wouldn't wait for that, you knew that they wouldn't stop until they had the world in their hands, paradis included. you'd heard the private murmurs of jaeger before you entered his room, seen the open pages of his journal when he fell asleep at his desk, you knew what he had been planning. and you knew that reiner would have to go running back to the island once again, and even if jaeger's grand scheme didn't drag him there by his collar, he would probably go searching out his own resolution him.

you checked your watch. 2:10. it was your turn to check the patients in critical condition down the hall. you sighed quietly, pulling your hand away from his and leaning down to gently press a kiss on his forehead, something you risked doing a few times before when you had these especially long conversations that made your heart ache for him.

but at least, you thought to yourself as you flicked off the lights, reluctantly leaving the room and shutting the door behind you as quietly as you possibly could, at least you could give him just one night of repose.

#reiner braun #reiner braun x you #reiner braun x reader #reiner fluff

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peachyteez · 4 years ago

Text

death’s grip ≫ DAY ONE, TRUST.

the tiger hybrid managed to escape from south korea’s top illegal hybird ring fights. of course, they didn’t let him go so easily. losing his chasers in a forest, covered in blood—his and others’—he decided to accept his fate of death from his wounds until a female and two other hybrids managed to take him from death’s grip.

PART OF THE HEAVEN SERIES.

✧ taglist: @defsoul15, @choisaniskillingme, @joongiebug, @t-tbinnie, @chanyeolol, @danibookmarks, @hello-its-ya-boi, @murralyn, @alienmashup, @panini, @moon8894, @taetae123094, @luv3rxcha, @treasure-hwa, @etherealbyeol, @hwaseongzzz, @koasworld, @sunsethw4

can’t be tagged: @yoongisleftboob

feel free to let me know if you would like to be added to the list!

✧ note: i know this is a day late; i have a lot going on and uni’s not being very nice :(

✧ WARNINGS: mentions of blood and death

next��

“okay, now that we’re here—yunho, come back!”

it’s been roughly about two weeks since the three had settled in their new home. it was a new experience for all of them. for both seonghwa and yunho, they were experiencing the heaven of living with someone that actually cared for them and not just using them like toys. for jiyu, she was experiencing the feeling of having people to come home to, people to rant to when she had a bad day at work, and people that she can consider her friends and dare she say, family.

now that they had settled down, jiyu thought it’d be a nice idea if she could let seonghwa and yunho experience things that they had never done before. like this time around, hiking.

running after a cheerful yunho who went after a butterfly, she breathlessly chuckled at his inner child peeking through. “yun, i know you’re a giant, and you’re really easy to spot. but it’s really dangerous on hiking paths since the trail can split off and i won’t have any idea where you went, alright?” she smiled while ruffling his hair.

“sorry,” he sheepishly apologized, his tail wagging back and forth in excitement at the new adventure that he was about to embark on. “come on! let’s go!” he yelped before running off towards the path again.

seonghwa chuckled. “he really is a little kid trapped in a giant’s body,” he said before running after the puppy hybrid to join him.

jiyu looked after them with a sigh, but she couldn’t wipe the little grin off her face. “they’re such dorks,” she mumbled before running after them. “hey, wait for me!”

and that’s how it was for most of the hike: yunho running ahead, utterly fascinated with the little insects and flowers on the path. although jiyu had to physically drag the giant away before he could even touch the poison ivy. even if seonghwa wasn’t showing his excitement like yunho, jiyu could tell he was enjoying nature since his eyes were contently closed as he basked in the sunlight while walking.

jiyu smiled seeing them enjoy themselves. movement in the corner of her eye caught her attention. her eyes lit up at the sight. “guys!” she whisper-shouted, pointing to a fawn and its child by a nearby river. “look, it’s fawns! but we have to keep quiet otherwise we’re going to scare them away.”

seonghwa and yunho’s eyes sparkled at the sight. they kept their eyes on the two animals who were drinking from the river. looking at their tails, jiyu couldn’t help but stifle her laughter—they were slowly wagging, a sign that they were invested with what was in front of their eyes.

suddenly, the mother fawn’s head snapped up in alert. staring at the trees nearby, almost as if someone or something was there, she nudged her baby before they both took off. jiyu furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. did they see something?

yunho pouted. “aww, i wanted to watch them a bit more,” he mumbled. seonghwa nodded in agreement, the same small pout on his lips, too. “did they notice us?”

jiyu looked in the direction that the mother fawn was staring at. she shook her head. “no, the mother fawn looked over there, not at us,” she answered, still slightly confused at what couldn’t been there to startle the fawn so much.

out of nowhere, a low growl was heard. jiyu and yunho tensed while seonghwa’s ears perked up in alert. standing protectively in front of the two, seonghwa intently stared at the direction that the growl came from. “who’s there?”

jiyu realized it was coming from the same direction that the mother fawn was staring at. carefully walking in front of seonghwa, she peered down and noticed an injured person sitting and leaned against one of the huge trees. her eyes widened. “sir! are you okay?” she called out, about to climb down the hiking trail and towards the injured person.

seonghwa grabbed her arm. “what are you doing? what if you get hurt?” he asked, his eyes filled with worry.

“he’s injured, hwa!” she defended. “come with me to check up on him.”

with a nod, seonghwa started carefully walking down the slope, away from the hiking trail. yunho hesitantly looked at the two as he debated if he wanted to follow them.

looking back at yunho, jiyu sensed his hesitation. “can you call the ambulance, yunho?” she softly asked, handing him her phone. after getting a nod, she immediately started to approach the injured man. but the closer she got, she noticed something on his head.

“a hybrid...” she mumbled. “yunho, wait don’t call an ambulance!” she called back to the puppy. looking back to the injured hybrid, her breath caught in her throat. he was looking at her with the most intimidating glare he could muster despite his many injuries.

“leave me alone...” he managed to growl out.

taking a closer look, she noticed he was clutching onto an open gash on his stomach, little cuts on his face, and he was covered in blood. blood was even dripping out of his mouth. she gasped. what happened?

“and let you die of blood loss?” she asked. seonghwa stood behind jiyu in case the hybrid were to attack.

the hybrid scoffed, wincing in pain after. “if that’s how i go, then that’s how it’ll be,” he mumbled, closing his eyes and leaning his head back against the tree. “i don’t need your help, so leave.”

jiyu bit her lip in thought. she couldn’t just leave him here to bleed out and die. she turned to seonghwa. “can you go tell yunho to call yeonjun and explain what happened?” she gently asked.

seonghwa immediately shook his head. “what if he attacks when i’m gone?” he whispered back, the same worried expression back on his face.

jiyu ruffled his hair. “i’ll be fine. you seem to forget where i work at,” she joked. “go, hwa. i can’t leave him to die out here.”

after a long hesitation, seonghwa gave a warning glare to the injured hybrid before going back to yunho. the hybrid let out another scoff. “are they your hybrids?” he asked, looking at the wolf and golden retriever hybrid as they frantically tried calling yeonjun.

jiyu slowly sat down on the ground, keeping a safe distance. “yes.”

“what’s your intentions with them?” he glared. “use them for money? or perhaps your own pleasures? or—”

“no.”

his eyebrows slightly raised in surprise at the woman’s firm tone. looking at her, her face was full of disgust and slight shock at the question.

“i’d never do that. they’re my family.”

“that’s what they all say,” he humorlously chuckled. “that’s what they all say to get us to fall into their little trap before they show their true colors.”

“not everyone’s the same,” she defended. “i don’t know what happened to you, but i can assure you i want nothing more than to just help you.”

he observed her. as determined and truthful as she seemed, he didn’t want to take another chance. he’s already been through so much, mentally and physically. he was tired. “stop wasting your time,” he weakly mumbled, leaning his head against the tree again. “just leave me be.”

a pained look flashed across jiyu’s face. to see a hybrid so easily give up on his life pierced her heart. however, it only motivated her more to help.

“jiyu! yeonjun’s sending a rescue team!” she heard yunho call out to her.

she wryly smiled to the hurt hybrid “as much as you want me to do that, i’m afraid i can’t. a rescue team’s already on their way.”

the hybrid’s eyes narrowed. “this could all be trap for all i know. you could be sending me back to where i came from,” he growled. he attempted to stand, but he fell right back down in pain. “just leave before you're gonna regret it.”

as threatening as he seemed, she knew he couldn’t do much due to his injuries. she stood up and dusted her pants. “look, you can believe whatever you want, but i swear on my life that i won’t harm you. i work at a hybrid recovery center, i just want to help. please?”

hearing her pleading tone, he looked up into her eyes. they were filled with nothing but earnest and desperation. why? why was she so insistent when they didn’t even know each other? what’s her motive?

he sighed. he’s survived up til then by relying on himself. he’s obeyed his owners for the sake of his own survival; never rebelled, never bit the hand that fed him. until enough was enough. he fought and ran away. humans were terrifying beings, they only cared for their own benefits and pleasures. so what was so different about her? he wouldn’t be lying if he said he didn't feel the slightest bit safe around her.

suddenly, he heard the sound of sirens and footsteps, making his ears stand in alert and his teeth sharpen. looking in the distance, he saw a group of men and the familiar hybrid ambulance. so she really did call a rescue team...

“so will you let me help you?” she gently asked, squatting down by him. “you’ll be safe, i promise.”

watching a yellow-haired man interact with the wolf and golden retriever hybrid a distance away, he was surprised. it was a normal interaction for anyone, but to him, it was a whole new concept. he’s only been shouted at his whole life.

he closed his eyes, letting out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. “very well.” he’s been through hell and back, he could take more if that was the case.

jiyu smiled before giving yeonjun and the rescue team the okay to slowly approach and take the injured hybrid. “ah, that’s right. i never got your name. i’m jiyu.”

he pursed his lips. seeing her happiness, he slightly lowered his guard. “hongjoong.”

#9th member of ateez #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #ateez angst #ateez fluff #kim hongjoong #hongjoong imagines #hongjoong scenarios #ateez hongjoong #hybrid au #kpop hybrid au #ateez hybrid #hybrid!ateez

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lunarliza · 5 years ago

Text

JJ Maybank Must Die | Chapter 2: Ping Pong Balls

fuckboy!JJ x Reader

series masterlist | chapter one

JJ Maybank is the island’s most infamous fuckboy- not that you ever cared. But when a group of tourist girls come to your surf shop crying to you about him, you agree to help them plot revenge. Sabotage is all fun and games, until you find that the playboy you were sworn to ruin happens to be falling head over heels for you.

Yes, this is based on John Tucker Must Die lol

Problem not solved.

You and Sophia eagerly sipped on your smoothies, waiting for the trio to show up to their five-o’clock session the Monday following the party. Alas, they piled through the front door with deflated shoulders.

“Well?” Sophia perked, eyes gleaming, “How’d it go? Did you make him cry?! Please don’t spare any details!” Her palms clasped together in front of her like a kid who just came up with an evil-genius plan.

“Tell them what happened,” Annalise ordered Arabella, clocking the fiery-haired girl’s shoulder.

Arabella sighed dejectedly. “Well... not exactly. So I went to the party, hoe clothes on and everything like we planned. Saw him, used my signature look and look away move, and it worked! He came over and we started talking and-”

“She fucked him,” Maia finished bluntly, prompting a betrayed gasp from Sophia and face-palm from you.

“Mhm,” Annalise added, “He whisked her away before me or Maia could get the chance to interfere.”

“I couldn’t help it!” Arabella cried, covering her face in mortification, “He was just so... smooth and sweet. And those eyes! We started talking about sea turtles! You guys know they are my weakness.”

You couldn’t help look on your face. Arabella was sweet, no doubt, but boy, the girl sure was spineless. It was a good thing she was pretty.

“He is the devil!” Sophia enunciated each word of her sentence and huffed. “This is going to be harder than I thought!”

“We just need someone stronger! Someone with a heart of steel unlike this one,” Annalise added, smacking her friend on the back.

“We could give it another go,” you agreed, “but who’d be our guinea pig now?”

You pondered at the ceiling until you felt all four pairs of eyes practically stab at you. It was like jumping into a vulture’s nest.

“Oh no, not me!”

“Why not?” Maia questioned, frustrated. “You’re the only available one left. Plus, you couldn’t give two shits about him. It’ll be like busy work to you.”

“Yeah not gonna happen. Find someone else, please. This is non-negotiable.”

Out of nowhere, Sophia seized your hand and tugged you into the back room of the shop. “Excuse us for a minute,” she said to the girls before shutting the door of the crammed space.

It was a good thing your supervisor left early for the day, your asses would be toast if he were to witness the scene.

“I think you should do it,” your best friend urged.

“Have you lost your mind?!” you yelled-whispered.

“Oh come on, y/n! Do it for me. For Annalise. No! Do it for all the girls on this island who has ever shed a single tear for him!”

You sighed heavily. “I can’t do it, Soph. I’m sorry. He’s terrible and Karma has her kiss for him, but not me. Also, you know how I feel about those parties at the Boneyard.” Your look grew to one of disgust.

“Mhm,” she crossed her arms, “This wouldn’t be because of Pope would it?”

“No!”

Yes. It absolutely was.

So you might’ve maybe use to have a teensy tiny little crush on Pope Heyward-one of JJ’s best friends. It wasn’t your fault he was so cute and smart... and respectful!

The boy stole your heart and ran away with it when you were paired up for science lab sophomore year. Him, being the genius he was, always did the experiments so gracefully while you royalty fucked everything up.

One day, you poured the wrong solution into the beaker and the goopy liquid exploded everywhere. However, without an ounce of complaint, Pope offered to stay after with you to scrub down the walls and tables. A modern day romance if there ever was one.

After months of daydreaming about him, you finally worked up the courage to ask him to the end-of-year dance. Sophia and your other friends hyped you up as you approached his locker after school.

Much to you dismay, he said no. But he did it in such a nice way, you couldn’t hate him for it. If anything, it made you hurt even more that you got rejected so kindly. Ever since then, you never stepped foot near him or his friends, too humiliated to even think of it.

“You’re a terrible liar, y/n,” Sophia stated.

She then grabbed onto your shoulders to stare you straight in the eyes. “Look, I know you swore never to see Pope again, but, honestly, fuck him! He missed out on a kick-ass date. But think- you could kill two birds with one stone! Go to the Boneyard, look hot as fuck, dance on JJ a bit and then vamoose! Pope’s jealous and JJ gets a bite in the ass!”

Your brows furrowed in annoyance. Leave it to Sophia to convince you into her petty ploys. “I don’t know...”

She persisted further. “Okay, I wasn’t going to tell you this because I knew you’d be super jealous, but my cousin got me front row to Venus Panic in Charlotte at the end of the summer.”

Your eyes jolted out of your head. “No fucking way!”

You loved Venus Panic with a dying passion. They were your favorite band who never ever came to the U.S.

Sophia let out a long breath. “Yes. If you do this, y/n, the ticket,” she paused, “the ticket is yours.”

It was like pulling teeth from her to make that kind of offer. Damn her for being so conniving!

“Alright. For Venus, I’ll do it.”

“Thank the gods!” Sophia leaped up and down in the confined room, hugging you and thanking you a ga-zillion times.

She looked as if she sealed a million dollar deal when you two emerged from the room. You, on the other hand, were ready to fling yourself to the seagulls.

“Operation JJ Maybank must die is a go girls!” she announced before the group started frolicking up and down, earning stares from people looking through the glass.

“Alright, alright,” you said as they settled down, “Now that we have that done, can we please actually surf now?”

-------------------------------

The night of the next Boneyard party, you and Sophia drove to the condo the girls were staying at. Pulling up to the building, both yours and Sophia’s eyes widened. You knew the complex was on Figure Eight, but you didn’t know it was that luxurious and huge. They even had valet at the front, and you were greeted by doorman on your way in.

Apparently Annalise’s dad was an important rich man in Virginia. He remarried, and was currently honeymooning in some exotic island. Sending his condolences, he let her choose whichever one of his condos she wanted to stay at for the summer with friends. For some unknown reason, she chose the Outer Banks.

“Party’s here!” Sophia sang when Arabella answered the door.

You entered into the spacious unit, in awe. The endless kitchen was lined with white Italian wood while the counters were topped with the fanciest marble you had ever seen. The living room was the size of your house with floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the island. And the view was spectacular.

So this was how the other side lived.

Maia and Annalise squealed when they emerged from their rooms and hugged you and Sophia hello. They had on silk robes with their hair up in rollers. The Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show had nothing on them.

They handed you two some seltzers from the fridge before Maia dragged you to the gigantic vanity in her room. Eyeshadow palettes, brushes, and compact powders littered the surface. She sat you down and fiddled with the ends of your hair.

“So, y/n, what kind of look do you wanna go for tonight?”

You were taken aback. “I’m not sure. Maybe something natural since we’re gonna be outside?”

Maia scoffed playfully and shook her head. “Y/n, it’s a party! If you’re not glamming you’re not scamming. Actually say no more! I know exactly what we’re gonna do.”

And so, she worked her magic as you watched through the bulb-lined mirror. You asked her about the products she was using while she gave you the rundown of the importance of each item and step. She was very knowledgable and swift with her hand- especially when it came to the winged liner.

You got along with Maia. You learned that she had a successful makeup channel and wanted to start her own brand one day. She also told you about her boyfriend and how he was in Thailand for the entire summer.

After two hours of searching for lost lip glosses, waiting on Annalise to change for the tenth time, and chugging your fifth seltzer, the five of you finally made it to the Boneyard at its peak hour.

Linking arms, you all strutted down the beach, ready for your mission.

The four scattered when you reached the sea of people, leaving you to locate the blonde target. After a few minutes of searching, you couldn’t find a single trace of him or any of his friends.

Heading over to the keg, you poured yourself a drink in hopes it would loosen your raging nerves. It also didn’t help that Maia’s bikini top was hardly covering your nipples. You knew a nip slip was just waiting to happen at some point in the night.

You casually sipped your drink and circled the party again, catching a glimpse of the wavy-haired boy at the beer pong area.

JJ slammed his fists on the table after landing another shot.

“Fuck yes! One last shot and your ass is grass!” he belted to his competitors: two random tourist boys who were chugging at a ridiculously slow pace. JJ then proceeded to high-five his friend, John B, who you also recognize from school.

“Don’t be a coward,” you muttered to yourself before striding to the crowd clamoring around a fold-out table.

From the sides, you attempted a few of the “flirty glances” Arabella taught you but no luck. The boy would much rather bounce a ping-pong ball.

You resorted to crossing your arms and waiting for the game to be over. With no surprise, JJ and John B won as the tourons groaned and withered away to the bonfire.

“That’s right baby! Undefeated!” JJ gloated with his hands smugly flung in the air.

“Alright who’s next?” John B shouted, earning no response from the herd.

Welp... it’s now or never.

“I’ll play,” you volunteered and stuck your hand up. You could feel JJ staring at you quizzically.

“Alright, alright we have a challenger! But who’s your partner?” John B asked. You wanted to slap yourself for not thinking this through properly.

“I’ll do it,” a deep voice spoke behind you. You whirled around to meet eyes with none other than Pope. He stood cooly behind you with a beer in hand.

You originally planned to avoid him at all costs during the party. But that all went down the drain as he set down his drink and started ordering the cups in a pyramid formation.

“You’re going down Heyward!” JJ hollered, taking the first shot. The ball glided into the first cup with ease. John B’s shot followed, but bounced off to the side.

Your partner grabbed the beer and hurled it down instantly, using his wrist to wipe his mouth. You snatched the fallen ball on the ground while Pope nodded for you to go first.

So this might have been the first time you’ve every played beer pong in your life. But, in your defense, you’ve done it a million times on your phone. It couldn’t be that hard.

You tossed the first shot and it wheezed over all the cups. Whoops.

“This is too easy,” JJ jeered, eyeing Pope as he made the next throw. It landed in one of the back cups and John B swallowed the contents down.

“Sorry, I’m just off my game today,” you mumbled to your partner.

“Nah, don’t worry about it. You wanna know my trick?” Pope raised as another one of JJ’s balls flew into one of your cups. You raised your brows as he handed you the beer.

“The more drunk you are, the better you play.”

Guzzling down the liquid luck, you fingered another ball and took your aim. Flinging it towards the mass, you gasped when it actually landed into the center cup.

“Oh my God!” you cheered as Pope’s face mimicked yours. He high-fived you with both hands as you bounced up and down in glee.

“That’s what I’m talking about y/n!”

For the rest of the game you and Pope played neck-and-neck with the other two, continuously making shots and chugging down beer. His tactic worked. You were on fire.

The flock around you chanted your name every time you scored. You could see your friends hanging around in the far corner hollering your name and sending you thumbs ups.

It was game point as both teams had one target left. It was their turn. JJ took the stage, chucking the ball skillfully. Much to your demise, it swirled along the rim before plopping in. JJ roared out in victory.

“Hold your horses,” Pope interjected with a finger in the air, “We still have redemption.”

“Let’s see it then,” John B panted, worn out from the tension.

“You got this.” Pope patted you on the back and handed you the ball.

Your eyes bursted. “W-What? No no no, Pope you go.”

“Relax, y/n! I believe in you. Just focus.”

You gulped and turned to the boys taunting you across the table. Saying the quickest Hail Mary in your head, you launched the ball and had to shut your eyes.

A sudden rush of shrieks alarmed you. Peeling your eyes open, you saw both JJ and John B’s jaws plummet to the ground.

It went in.

“Now that’s what the fuck is up!” Pope hurled his fist at this chest. You were frozen in utter disbelief. Maybe the Gods were in your favor.

Pope added two more cups to your side of the table as John B copied his actions. The four of you went at it a few more times before you were one-and-one again. Both John B and JJ missed and the balls rolled back over to you.

Taking the first shot again, you slung the ball, but it flew off the rim. You were chattering on your nails as Pope proceeded to make his attempt.

One swish and the ball landed straight in the hole.

You both jolted up in the air, doing a little victory dance. JJ shushed you- ready to go for his redemption kill. His ball missed the cup by a hair and John B’s slid off the table, deeming you and Pope the winners.

In your exhilarated drunken state, you threw your arms around Pope, and he let out a soft chuckle. You hastily pulled away after you realized what you were doing. Thankfully, the crestfallen losers immediately came over to shake your hands and say “Good game.”

JJ’s hands hung onto yours a moment longer. He studied you with his eyes before treading away towards the bonfire.

As winners, you and Pope stayed a few more rounds before getting beat out. You noticed JJ come back to watch you for a few rounds, eyes fixated on your every move.

After shaking hands with the girls who beat you, you waved a confused Pope goodbye and jogged over towards the drink area for water. In the corner of your eye, you saw JJ hurry up to you with giddiness.

“That was some game you played out there,” he complimented as you swigged down your water.

“Thanks! Guess I just got lucky back there.”

He leaned both arms on the table, raising his brows suggestively. “Might just be your lucky night then.”

Oh brother.

You threw him an uneasy smile and treaded away to the dancing crowd. Of course, he followed you, struggling to keep up with your pace.

“Hey, what’s your name? I’ve never seen you around before.”

You scoffed low enough to where he couldn’t hear. Never seen you? You’ve been in the same classes since second grade.

“I’m y/n.” You slowed down a bit, remembering your sworn duty.

“Well I’m JJ. JJ Maybank.” He flashed you a toothy smile.

You stopped amidst the dancers as a popular, high-beat electronic song came on. You flung you hands around JJ’s neck and pulled him close. “Dance with me, JJ Maybank.”

The two of you rocked back and forth for a while before the music transitioned to a provocative rap song. Both you and the light-haired boy rapped the entire first verse with ease, giggling once the chorus hit.

“So... how come I’ve never seen you at one of these parties?”

You shrugged tossing him a look of disinterest. “Not really my thing.”

He tugged you in so his forehead was on yours. “Then what is your thing then, hm? What’s a cute girl like you up to all summer?”

“I’m a surfing instructor.”

“Is that so? You know, I’m a pretty good surfer myself...” His hands traced down to your swaying hips.

“I’ll be the judge of that,” you retorted, running your hands up and down his biceps flirtatiously.

It was probably the alcohol doing all the work, because in that moment, you knew you were being absolutely irresistible to the boy who’s hands were burning to stay in the... respectful areas.

“Maybe one day I can show you,” JJ rasped. You barely heard him through the booming of the speakers, but still locked eyes with him alluringly.

“Mmm, don’t really have time for amateurs.”

“Ouch... feisty aren’t we?” His lips were millimeters from yours.

“Please, you know you like it.” You decided to close the gap.

Boy, were his lips soft. His chiseled hands made way to tangle up in your hair as he expertly kissed you amongst the throng of people. He slid his tongue into your mouth, and you could feel how hungry he was.

You stopped after a minute, purposely cutting it short. His eyes were aching for more, but you refused. You wanted to starve him.

“Wanna get out of here? There’s a cool place on the beach I can show you,” he asked, fingers toying with the back string of your bikini.

You shrugged. “Why not.”

Smirking, JJ’s hand snaked around your waist as he led you to the back trees of the Boneyard. You approached a small patch of sand enclosed by a circle of trees, and it all clicked in your head. This was his sex hideout.

You glanced around the spot. The moon beamed straight into it, and the leaves of the trees hung down fancifully. In its own weird way, it was kind of romantic- if you didn’t think about how many times he’s taken people there to fuck.

He tugged you towards the center, wrapping you in his muscular arms.

“You’re the cutest girl I’ve ever seen. I could just eat you up,” he muttered seductively, nipping at the sides of your jawline.

You were beginning to understand it now- his irresistibility. The guy was charming. You let him kiss you for a little bit until you felt him undo your back bikini string.

You quickly jerked away, tying it back into a bow.

“You know what, I think I’m good,” you said abruptly, backing away.

JJ looked as if someone offered a kid ice cream and knocked the cone off the second he was about to dive in for the first taste. “Wait! Where are you going?” he urged.

“Away.”

His face flooded in disbelief as he let out a loud scoff, darting after you as you jogged back to the dancing pack.

“Wait! Y/n come back!” he called out.

“What for? I’m not sleeping with you JJ!” you shouted, making sure everyone around you heard.

When his face went beet-red you knew you work was done.

You sped up the sand, out of sight, to Annalise’s car where your friends were circled. They whooped and cheered at your presence.

“We saw everything!” Maia exclaimed, hauling you in for a bone-tight hug.

“That was so awesome! Y/n, you’re my hero!” Arabella chimed in while you all crammed into the Mercedes.

“Ladies, ladies,” Annalise began before pulling out of the parking lot, “Tonight we celebrate the fall of JJ Maybank!”

The car erupted in drunk glee as everyone swaddled you from their seats.

As you drove back to the condo, Sophia rolled down her window from the backseat and stuck out her head.

“Fuck you JJ Maybank!”

----------------------------------

note: dw there is even more D R A M A to come lolz

chapter 3

tags: @obxlife @rudyypankow @yeehaw87 @ilymarkchan @jellyfishbeansontoast @tangledinsparkles @toloveortobeinlove @pixelated-pogues @normatural @teamnick @drizzlethatfalls

#outerbanks #outer banks #outer banks imagine #outer banks fanfiction #jj obx #obx fanfiction #obx imagine #obx #jj x y/n #jj x reader #jj maybank #jj #jj maybank x y/n #jj maybank x you #jj maybank fanfiction #jj maybank imagine #john b obx #john b #john b imagine

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apollostears · 4 years ago

Text

don’t look, don’t touch | l. zhang

Request: A night out on your honeymoon turns into something more when others can’t stop touching what’s his.

Fandom: EXO

Pairing: Lay Zhang x black!reader

Warning(s): angst-ish, smut, light spanking, dirty talk, & swearing

Creator: maya

A/N: this took me forever to write and i am so sorry!! hope you love it!! xx

*gif not mine*

New marital bliss was a thing. Oh My God was it a thing! You had never seen Lay so at peace and happy then when you did after y’all had gotten married.

His energy matched yours and anyone from a mile away could tell that y’all were newlyweds. Well...almost everyone.

“You’re looking a little too sexy for dinner in a hotel restaurant.” Yixing’s voice was light as he emerged from the bathroom, his hands fastening his cufflinks.

You smirked at him through the floor-length mirror. “Is my handsome husband being a little possessive?” You teased, sending him a wink through your reflection as you applied some gloss to your lips.

Yixing wore a knowing smile on his face as he approached you. Coming up behind you, he caressed your curves through your silk dress and pressed himself up against you.

“Not all, my darling wife, i’m just feeling sorry for all the men that will never know what it’s like to have a Goddess at their side.” He spoke into your ear before pressing a kiss to the tip of it.

Rolling your eyes playfully, you couldn’t help but smile at his loving compliment. “You are such a romantic.”

“I can show you how much of a romantic I am. What do you say Mrs. Zhang?” Yixing was a devil and he knew that as he lightly nibbled on your neck.

You had to suppress your own desires as you wiggled your way out his arms. “Sorry baby, but it’s day four of our honeymoon and you’ve had me to yourself this whole time.”

Making your way across the room, you slipped your heels on and grabbed the shiny room key that matched the aesthetic of the building.

Peering over your shoulder, you saw your lover pouting. “The faster we eat, the faster you have me to yourself.” You bribed him with a light voice.

Yixing perked up a bit at that, grabbing the rest of his things and following you out the door.

That didn’t stop him from making a mess of your lips on the short trip down to the lobby. By the time the doors opened, his lips were glossy and yours weren’t.

“If I look a hot mess when we get off this elevator Yi, we fighting.” You warned, stepping off the elevator before him.

“Mhm, i’m sure.” He responded, placing a hand at the small of your back as the two of you walked towards the host.

The young male smiled at you two, ready to make a good impression. “Good evening, how may I be of service to you today?”

While Yixing handled the reservations, your eyes wandered to the decor of the resturant. Although a hotel resort was where you were staying, the place never lacked in its interior design. It felt like some high-end place off fifth avenue and you were so grateful that Yixing decided on something like this.

“Holy shit, [Y/N] [L/N], I can’t believe it’s you!” A voice you never thought you’d hear again, had startled you from your thoughts.

Shifting your gaze, you found the culprit. It was your ex, the one before Yixing, and he stood with a group of men in dress suits.

A soft smile found your lips and you gave a small wave. “Hey Ezekiel, long time no see.”

Your tone was light, having no ill-will to the person who ultimately led you to your soulmate. “I never thought I’d see you again! How have you been?” He questioned, giving you a side hug, but not removing his arm.

“Very good actually, just here with my husband. How about you?”

Casual as ever, you naturally removed yourself from his extended embrace and politely waited for him to answer. The shocked look on his face bringing you more satisfaction than normal.

“Husband? You got married?” Mouth agape and eyes wide in shock.

Before you could speak, Yixing had appeared next to you with a firm hand on your waist. “Honey, our table is ready. Who is this?”

Ezekiel was in even more shock to see the handsome man that had became your husband. With a smile, you introduced the two and could feel Yixing tighten his grip on you.

“Nice to meet you but we have to go.” You barely had time to squeeze out a farewell before Yixing pulled you to y’all’s table.

You pouted at his behavior and kept a confused look on your face as you got ready to speak to him.

“So...what was that about?” You asked, picking up your menu to hide your face from his eyes. You wanted to seem causal about the situation, the only emotion showing would be confusion.

“They have that wine that you like, want me to order you a glass?” Yixing asked, smoothly avoiding the question.

Peering your eyes over the menu, you gave him a glare but didn’t press the issue. “Sure.” Your tone was clipped, but that didn’t seem to phase your husband as he hummed in response.

Men. You thought to yourself before focusing all your attention to the list of items in front of you.

Deciding what you wanted, you put your menu down and studied the man in front of you. Your husband was a work of art, incredibly gorgeous with an aura around him that couldn’t be touched.

He was power and just the very thought of his strength had you squirming in your seat.

Noticing this, Yixing raised his eyes over the menu. “Something wrong?”

His concerning voice went straight to your core as you put on a tight smile. “Nothing honey. Do you know what you want? The waiter is coming.”

You had already caught him coming up behind your husband and he was a little on the cute side, but very young. You’d call him adorable, a puppy.

Nodding his head, Yixing closed his menu and put it on top of yours just as the man had arrived.

“Good evening, my name is Lei and it’ll be my pleasure to serve you.” The young man had introduced himself, all his attention on you.

But you were too caught up in the way his name was like your husband’s.

“Awe babe! His name is like yours!” You cooed, looking at your man excitedly.

Yixing hummed in response, his eyes focusing on the male who blatantly disrespected him in front of his wife. Not to mention the way he was trying to pry on you like you weren’t on a date.

The young man’s smile was beautiful, bashful that you were cooing over him. “What’s your name beautiful?” He asked, shifting so his body would cover Yixing.

Pulled from your ignorance, you noticed what he was doing. The kid was trying to lay game in front of your husband and shamelessly check you out.

Just as you had prepared yourself to speak, Yixing was up and by your side quickly.

“Her name is none of your damn business. I’ll be sure to leave a comment with the manager about your behavior kid.” He spoke sharply, before turning to look at you. “We’re leaving, lets go.”

You were stunned to say the least and your movements were robotic as you let Yixing guide you out of the restaurant.

Once y’all stepped foot on the elevator, you had finally processed everything. Your husband was seething, he was tense as he stood slightly in front of you. You were unsure on if you should speak, but decided it might be best to do so.

“Yi...what’s wrong hun?” Your voice was soft, nonthreatening so you wouldn’t set him off.

“When we get in this room, I want that dress off and you on your hands and knees on the bed.” Yixing’s voice was stern, reigniting the flame in your belly.

Your mouth opened and closed like a fish, surprised at his dominating nature. He wasn’t always like this with you, but it never failed to take you by surprise.

Yixing didn’t appreciate your silence and he turned his head to the side and glared at you from his peripheral. “Am I clear?”

“Y-yes sir.” You stuttered out your answer and soon licked your lips after, feeling your mouth go dry from the thoughts of what he’d do to you.

The elevator bell dinged and the pristine doors slid open. Yixing stepped out first and you followed. Letting you in the room first, you hurried to the room and did as told. A chill ran down your spine as the cold air hit your bareback.

The electric blue panties you wore felt damp against your core as you waited in anticipation. Hearing the front door click and dress shoes hitting the marble floor, you craned your neck to see Yixing come in the room.

His tie was loosened and his top two buttons were undone. His hands worked to unfasten his cuff links and your eyes almost rolled back at the sight.

��Face forward.” He commanded, not even glancing your way.

You swallowed a desperate whine and did as he said. The expensive curtains were pulled back and you could see all the lights of Shanghai.

Pulled from your thoughts, a sharp smack to your ass cheeks had you jolting forward in surprise. “Ahh!” A cry of surprise escaped past your lips before you could stop it.

Another smack followed and your ass was caressed shortly after, blending the lines between pain and pleasure.

“I wanted to take my wife out on a date, but instead was met with men who couldn’t seem to tell who she belonged to. Now I have to mark what’s mine.”

You didn’t stop the small moan that escaped your lips as you clenched your pussy around nothing. Yixing was hardly like this, choosing to make love instead. Those guys must’ve really pissed him off.

“I’m ready daddy.” You assured, giving him the green light to do as he pleased.

Yixing hummed in content and you soon felt a dip in the bed behind you. Wet lips and cold fingers covered your ass, close to where you wanted him most.

“My good girl, always ready to please her daddy.” He cooed, his hand slipping between your legs to rub your mound. The other, pulling at your nipples.

Your back arched and you moaned, your hips rolling back for more friction. The sting of force that spread across your cheek made you moan even louder, having grown accustomed to the sharp feeling.

“Such a slut aren’t you? Wearing that dress, allowing men to look at what’s mine. This is what you wanted isn’t it?” Yixing roughly pulled at your nipple and slapped your pussy causing more moans to tumble from your lips.

Panties slid to the side, Yixing began to tease your wet hole, groaning at the slick that had already started to form.

“Fuck you get so wet.”

You slightly pushed your hips back, hoping to get his fingers to slide in. Noticing what you were trying to do, Yixing gave a dark chuckle and situated you so that the top half of your body was hanging off the edge of the bed and your lower half was draped across his lap.

The sound of fabric tearing sounded through the room and you were sad to see the electric blue panties tossed to the floor. “I’ll buy you more.” He muttered, silencing any issues you had with his abrasive behavior.

“I’m going to fuck you using my fingers; don’t move and don’t speak, understood?” Yixing spoke sternly in your ear, pulling at your hair a bit.

Your breaths were quick and short from his touch alone. You were sure you’d be feeling everything that he gave you tonight. “Yes sir.”

Yixing rubbed your clit a bit and you struggled to stay still, but when he suddenly plunged two fingers deep in your pussy, you really had to find some strength not to move. Clenching your fist around the Egyptian sheets, your hole clamped around Yixing’s fingers.

“Relax for me love, I got you.” He cooed, rubbing circles on your lower back to relax your muscles.

Letting out a deep breath, you focused on relaxing and tried hard not to make a sound as he pistoned his fingers through your pussy. Any other time, you’d feel self-conscious of the sounds coming from your hole, the slickness of your juices creating air pockets of noise, but you were so strung out you couldn’t care.

“So warm and tight—shit! I can’t fucking wait to replace my fingers with my cock.” Yixing’s mouth spewed vulgarities and you could only listen. His dirty talk made you grow wetter and you could feel the knot of pleasure forming.

Tears blurred your eyes as you reached a euphoric state, a third finger slipped through your barrier and violated you in the best way possible. A choked sob was held back in your throat with your teeth biting down on your tongue. Toes curled and back stiff as a rod, a wave of pleasure came crashing over your body as you shook with tremors and clamped around Yixing’s fingers.

“That’s it princess, good girl.” He praised, relishing in the way your walls fluttered rapidly around his fingers. Once you calmed down, he slowly removed his fingers and licked them clean, enjoying your taste.

Breathing heavily, your eyes were still closed as you came down from your first orgasm of the night. Gently sitting you up, Yixing cupped your face and brought his lips o yours for a passionate kiss.

Feeling yourself sink into his arms, you leaned more into the kiss and moaned at the taste of yourself on his lips and tongue. Yixing pulled away first, attacking your neck in love bites while you sat there in his lap, allowing yourself to be loved on and marked.

“You are everything to me Mrs. Zhang and I want the whole world to know.”

“Show them then.” You softly said, cupping his face in your hand and staring deep into his eyes.

Capturing your lips in another kiss, you felt yourself being lowered back onto the bed, a comfortable weight settling over you. Seperating for just a moment, Yixing made haste removing his clothing and shoes, tossing them wherever before climbing back on top of you.

“You ready?” He asked you, holding eye contact with you as he awaited your answer.

Nearly five years together and he still asks for consent, it makes butterflies erupt in you every time. Nodding your head, you smiled. “As always.”

Without further prompting, Yixing’s grabbed the base of his cock and slowly rubbed it against your folds, moaning with you at the feeling. “Please baby, I need you.” Whines spilled from your lips like an apology, desperately wanting to be filled by him.

With a smirk, he did as asked. With a swift snap of his hips, he buried his cock deep into your pussy. Your mouth dropped open and your breast were pushed upwards as you arched your back. Sweat had began to form and your pussy contracted wildly while moans pushed past your lips.

“Fuccckkk.”

Yixing gritted his teeth as he tried to focus on not nutting just from your face alone. He always told you how pretty you looked while getting fucked and if you kept squeezing him like that, he would surely buss quick.

“God, you’re so tight! Fit me so well baby, shit!” Yixing swore, slowly moving his hips back and forth to gain a rhythm.

In no time, Yixing was pounding into your pussy at a speed that border fast and slow. Pulling his hips back enough to snap them back into you, making his cock hit your spot every time. Your hands wandered his body while moans tumbled out, your nails dragging down his biceps before pulling him closer to you. This fuck was different than the ones you’ve had since being here. While it started off rough, Yixing is handling your body in the softest way possible.

His hands were positioned on either side of your head, gripping the sheets there. His eyes were mesmerized by the way your tits jiggled with each thrust he gave. It was becoming too much to bear. “I love you. I love you so much.” The words came from Yixing’s lips in urgency.

Tears had started to form again and you reached your hands up to pull him into a kiss. Using your tongue to caress the inside of his mouth, one of your hands began to pull at the hair on the nape of his neck. As his thrusts grew faster, you anchored your legs around his hips to hold on.

Pulling away, you struggled to catch your breath as the knot formed again. “R-rub my clit baby, i’m so close to cumming.” You cried, focusing on the feeling you were about to recieve.

Bringing a hand down to your throbbing clit, Yixing harshly rubbed circles on it, desperate to see you cum. “Oh shit! Right there, right there, right there!” You squealed, bucking your hips into his hand.

Watching your face scrunch up the closer you got to climaxing had Yixing’s cock twitching inside of you. The feeling itself made you moan and clamp down on him as you came hard. Feeling your walls tighten around his cock as you orgasmed, had him cumming right behind you with a violent yell.

Your thighs trembled as Yixing collapsed gently on top of you. The sounds of heavy breathing filled the hotel room while y’all tried to gather yourselves. Lazily, you began to run your fingers through his hair, feeling him relax even more.

“I love you forever Yi. That’s a promise I do not regret making.” You spoke softly, basking in the afterglow of love making.

Tilting his head to the side, Yixing looked up at you and kissed the valley in between your breast. “I am eternally yours and i’m sorry for reacting that way. I love you too much to let you go. You’re going to be the mother of my kids and grow old with me, I can’t have anyone else thinking otherwise.”

All you could do was smile at your husband’s slight possessive behavior. Marriage wasn’t going to be easy, but with him by your side, you could get through anything.

Taglist: @knjkitten @olamidey

#kmimagines #ambw imagines #kpop imagines #black!reader #exo #exo x black!reader #exo imagines #lay zhang #lay zhang x black!reader #lay zhang imagines #yixing #zhang yixing x black!reader #mayawrites #requested #exo smut #lay zhang x reader #exo lay #exo lay smut #smut

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kjack89 · 5 years ago

Text

When All This is Over

For @adorablecrab, my very belated fill from the @bishopmyrielfundraiser. Sorry it’s taken me so long!!

The request was for Modern AU, getting together fluff, and, well, I’ve done my best :)

E/R, Modern AU. COVID-19 stay at home order related because I am nothing if not the most predictable of trash.

“Alright everyone,” Enjolras said, raising his voice to be heard over the din that signified the natural end of a Les Amis meeting, even if it sounded more than a little different through the speakers of his computer via Zoom than in the backroom of the Musain. “Let’s call it a night. We’ve all got our assignments, and I’ll be in touch with any follow-ups as needed.”

“Enj,” Courfeyrac said, resting his chin on his hand, “you do realize that since we all talk and text, like, multiple times a day, and we’re now on week, what, 8 of social isolation, you probably don’t need to worry about doing ‘follow-ups’, right?”

Enjolras ignored him. “We’ll meet back here on Saturday. Combeferre will send the link again—”

“Because I’m the only one with a licensed Zoom account,” Combeferre grumbled. “One of the only fringe perks of doing a postdoc.”

“And believe me,” Grantaire interjected with a smirk, “we all appreciate your sacrifice for the Cause.”

“As opposed to everything you’ve contributed,” Combeferre shot back. “Which, let me check my notes here, but, uh, what exactly have you contributed recently?”

Grantaire’s smirk didn’t slip as he raised his beer bottle in a mock toast. “Morale,” he said simply.

Bossuet tried to cover his laugh with a fake cough that turned into a real cough, Joly pounding on his back worriedly, and Enjolras sighed. “On that note,” he said, loud enough to be heard over Bossuet’s coughing, “I will talk to you all later.”

He waited for everyone to hop off so he could end the meeting, but to his surprise, as the rest of the squares on his screen disappeared, one remained, even if it was without its former occupant. Grantaire’s video feed remained on his computer, and Enjolras frowned. “Grantaire?” he called, feeling foolish when Grantaire didn’t answer. “Are you still there? Did you need something?”

There was no answer and Enjolras sighed, his cursor lingering over the ‘End Meeting For All’ button. But something, likely against his better judgment, stopped him.

It was probably the same thing that had stopped him from kicking Grantaire out after the man had first wandered into a Les Amis meeting all those years ago, the one decision of his that Combeferre had ever openly questioned. But there was just something about Grantaire, something that infuriated and inspired Enjolras in somewhat equal measures.

The fury part had happened a lot less recently, but Enjolras suspected that was a temporary side effect of not being in the same room with each other, and was likely to be as temporary as this stay at home order they were all under.

Shaking his head, Enjolras turned back to the work that he needed to do, leaving the Zoom call on in the background. About fifteen minutes later, Grantaire wandered back into frame, holding a full bottle of beer. “Oh, there you are,” Enjolras said, and Grantaire did an almost comical doubletake, his beer bubbling over the lip of the bottle.

“Jesus Christ,” Grantaire huffed as he quickly sipped at the foam to stop it from overflowing. “You almost gave me a heart attack!”

“Sorry,” Enjolras told him.

Grantaire’s eyes narrowed. “Funny, you sure don’t sound it,” he said, sitting back down in front of his laptop. “Besides, isn’t the meeting over? Or have I been held after class so you can scold me?”

Enjolras rolled his eyes. “Believe me, if I thought scolding you would do any good, I’d’ve tried it long ago.” Grantaire grinned and Enjolras allowed himself a small smile as well. “And yes, the meeting is over, but you were still in the call.”

“Ok,” Grantaire said slowly, “but you’re the host. You could’ve just ended it for everyone, myself included.”

“I know, but I didn’t want to just disappear on you.”

Grantaire blinked. “You know, that may be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

Enjolras rolled his eyes again. “Shut up,” he said, but without much heat.

The video of Grantaire suddenly tilted, as if he had picked up his laptop, and a moment later, he came back into view, reclining on his couch, his computer resting on his stomach. “So what are you up to?” he asked, taking a sip of beer.

“Trying to figure out what protesting looks like in the age of social distancing,” Enjolras said with a sigh. “Our die-in at the state capitol was incredibly successful, but—”

“But laying out body bags doesn’t exactly have the same media impact as real humans lying there?” Grantaire supplied wryly. “Yeah, but what else can you do?”

Enjolras shrugged, glancing down at his notes. “I was thinking of trying to put together some kind of virtual rally, but even that’s not going to have the same impact.”

Grantaire nodded slowly. “Well, I’m sure you’ll figure something out,” he said bracingly, and Enjolras raised an eye at him.

“You know, that may be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me,” he said, and Grantaire laughed.

“Shut up,” he said. “Tell anyone I said it, and I’ll deny it.”

Enjolras grinned. “They wouldn’t believe me, anyway.” He hesitated. “So I’ll assume since you’re still on this call that you don’t have any better plans for this evening?”

Grantaire sighed. “I’m afraid that even my usually full social calendar has been negatively impacted by COVID-19,” he said with a dramatic sigh, clearly doing his best Courfeyrac impression, and Enjolras snorted. “But I can go if you need to get work done.”

Enjolras hesitated. “Honestly, it’s kind of nice having someone online with me,” he admitted. “Almost reminds me of all those nights at the Musain, y’know?”

“When you were working late and I was too drunk to stumble home?” Grantaire supplied.

“Well, something like that, anyway.”

Grantaire nodded slowly, something wistful creeping into his expression. Then, abruptly, he shook his head. “Never though I’d see the day where I missed that,” he said ruefully.

“Yeah,” Enjolras said. “I know what you mean.”

Grantaire sighed, his head tipping back to rest against the arm of his couch. “I just want things to go back to normal,” he said, his voice muffled from being further away from his computer’s microphone.

Enjolras made a face. “Do you even know what that means?” he asked, the sharpness in his voice making it teeter on the edge of a demand.

Grantaire sat upright again and rolled his eyes. “Yes, because I’ve clearly thought through every single socio-economic implication of stating my wish for ‘normalcy’,” he sniped. “Fine, if it’ll make you happy, I want my particular, individual life circumstances to return to how they were before.”

“It’s not about making me happy,” Enjolras pointed out. “It’s about making yourself happy. Or do you really want to go back to working two minimum wage jobs just to scrape by in between selling your paintings?”

Grantaire pretended to consider it. “It wasn’t so bad,” he hedged, and when Enjolras just gave him a look, he laughed and shook his head. “Ok, so the work was shit but the hours were manageable and besides, that way I got to spend my free time doing what I wanted. And besides, it’s a helluva lot better than being unemployed.”

Enjolras winced. “Fair point.”

Grantaire took another swig of beer. “What about you?” he asked. “Are you eager for your individual life circumstances to go back to normal?”

“Not sure anyone would call anything in my life normal,” Enjolras said, and Grantaire choked on his sip of beer.

“Truer words have never been spoken,” he managed after spluttering for a long moment. “But you know what I mean.”

Enjolras shrugged. “There are things I miss,” he said.

“And?” Grantaire prompted.

“And if you keep badgering me instead of letting me work, there’ll definitely be one less thing.”

Grantaire chuckled. “You win,” he said. “I’ll go back to muttering to myself while you ignore me, how about that?”

“Just like old times,” Enjolras murmured, and Grantaire laughed.

“Exactly.”

He did just that, breaking out his tablet to assumedly work on some art, muttering occassionally to himself, and Enjolras was surprised to find that the familiar background murmuring was strangely soothing, enough for him to settle into his own work.

It wasn’t until very late that Enjolras finally had to call it a night, and Grantaire stretched, looking over at the clock. “Jesus, when did it get to be 1 in the morning?” he asked, rubbing his eyes.

“Right around the time I realized I’m supposed to be getting up at seven tomorrow,” Enjolras said through a yawn. “Or, well, later today, I guess.”

“Seven in the morning?” Grantaire repeated, horrified. “Why in the world do you have to be up at the asscrack of dawn? Don’t you realize we’re in the middle of a pandemic and time is meaningless?”

Enjolras rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “Seven is hardly the asscrack of dawn,” he said. “Besides, I’ve got work to do.”

Grantaire shook his head. “No wonder you’re eager to go back to normal, since your life clearly hasn’t changed at all.”

“Goodnight, Grantaire,” Enjolras said pointedly.

“Yeah, yeah, goodnight, you freak. Getting up at seven to do work, I swear to God—”

Enjolras clicked the ‘End Meeting for All’ button, cutting Grantaire off before he could truly launch into a rant, and he hadn’t even closed his computer before his phone buzzed with a text. [From: Grantaire] Rude.

[From: Enjolras] Well, you said you were missing normal, and I figured this was as close as I could get to making Bossuet or Joly drag your drunk ass home.

[From: Grantaire] ...fair.

Enjolras laughed and stood to head to his bedroom, surprised when his phone buzzed again, and he glanced down at it. [From: Grantaire] Want to have another little bit of post-meeting normalcy on Saturday?

Despite himself, Enjolras couldn’t stop the smile that spread across his face at the thought. [From: Enjolras] Sounds like a plan.

----------

Sure enough, they spent Saturday night (and well into Sunday morning) the same way, both of them keeping each other company while working on their various projects. And after that, it became routine. Every Les Amis meeting was followed by Grantaire staying on the line to hang out, almost always drinking, only occassionally actually working.

As much as Enjolras hated to admit it, it felt...nice. Like Grantaire had said, a little bit of normalcy, despite everything. In fact, it was one of the few things keeping Enjolras sane as the stay at home order extended another month, dashing his plans for a return to the advocacy work he had so meticulously planned.

Nice was probably too mild a word for the quiet comfort that Enjolras found with Grantaire. He enjoyed having someone to talk to again, someone to bounce ideas off of, just like they had so many nights at the Musain.

But it was more than just comfort. Enjolras found himself actively looking forward to their time together, and while he’d never pretend to know what Grantaire was thinking, he got the feeling that Grantaire looked forward to it as well.

It helped that, without the urgency of everything else normally going on, they were able to actually talk, and not just about Enjolras’s latest idea. As much as they had been friends for years, too often their conversations were layered by Grantaire’s cynicism and sarcasm, and Enjolras was glad to really get to see beyond it.

“Where’s the first place you’ll go when this is over?” Grantaire asked one evening, lying on his couch, this time on his stomach, his computer balanced on what Enjolras could only assume was the arm of the couch, given the angle.

“Hmm,” Enjolras said, considering the question before barking a laugh. “You’re gonna make fun of me.”

“I always do,” Grantaire said cheerfully. “And that’s never stopped you before, so spill.”

Enjolras laughed again. “Alright, the first place I’ll probably go is City Hall. I’ve got a bone to pick with the permits office.”

Grantaire snorted a laugh. “God, you’re such a nerd,” he marvelled. “It’s truly incredible.”

“Shut up,” Enjolras said, laughing. “Where are you gonna go?”

“A bar,” Grantaire said promptly, “to get drunk with people instead of by myself.”

Enjolras made a disparaging noise in the back of his throat. “Nope, try again.”

“Excuse me?” Grantaire said, amused. “Are you trying to tell me that my answer was wrong?”

“No, just insincere,” Enjolras told him. “I know you’ve thought about it, or you wouldn’t have brought it up. So c’mon, where you really want to go?”

Grantaire’s smile softened, just slightly. “Honestly? I want to go to the zoo.” Enjolras blinked and Grantaire shrugged. “Don’t ask me why, since it’s not like I went all that frequently before, and it’s probably because of all the stupid videos they’ve been posting online during all of this, but. Yeah. I want to go to the zoo.” He gave Enjolras a withering look. “And now is not the time to launch into your tirade against keeping wild animals at zoos.”

“I wasn’t going to say anything!” Enjolras protested, but he was laughing, and Grantaire glared at him before laughing as well, the conversation turning from there.

If they had nothing else to show for it, Enjolras figured at the very least they’d come out of this whole thing as far better friends than they had started.

And then, finally, finally, there appeared to be good news on the horizon, with contact tracing and a decrease in new cases, and much of the Les Amis meeting that night was spent on the governor’s press conference, and her announcement that the state would move towards reopening in the next few weeks.

“You must be thrilled,” Grantaire said when everyone else had logged off.

“Of course I am,” Enjolras said, ebullient. “Aren’t you? You’re the one who’s wanted things to get back to normal.”

Grantaire made a face. “Yeah, but what does normal even mean anymore?” he mused. “Most folks will still be working from home, and even though we’ll be able to do some smaller protests and such, it’ll still be awhile before we can do any big rallies.”

Enjolras’s smile faded. “I mean, you’re not wrong, but is now really the time to bring it up?” he asked.

Grantaire forced a smile. “Of course, sorry,” he said. “We should celebrate! Wish I’d gotten a bottle of champagne with my last instacart order—”

“You’re using instacart?” Enjolras practically yelped. “After everything we’ve talked about with their exploitative business model?”

Grantaire’s smile widened into something more genuine, and infinitely more smug. “It’s called a joke, Enjolras. Glad to see your sense of humor is returning to normal as well.”

Enjolras made a face before hesitating. “I guess that probably means the end of these late night meetings as well,” he said, and Grantaire looked up, startled.

“What?” he said blankly. “Why?”

Enjolras blinked. “Well, I assume you’ll be going back to work, as will most of our comrades, so we won’t be able to have as frequent meetings, and besides, your social calendar will probably fill up again.”

He said it jokingly, but Grantaire didn’t smile. “My social calendar never stopped me from hanging out at the Musain before.”

“No, I know,” Enjolras started, but Grantaire cut him off.

“If you don’t want me to bother you, just say the word and I’m gone.”

Enjolras stared at him. “What are you—” he started before cutting himself off. “That’s not what I meant,” he said instead, trying not to sound as exasperated as he felt.

Juding by the look on Grantaire’s face, he hadn’t succeeded. “No, I know exactly what you mean,” Grantaire said, taking a larger than normal swig from his bottle of beer. “Once this Stay at Home Order is lifted, everything will go back to how it was.”

“Grantaire—”

“It’s fine,” Grantaire said, forcing a smile that didn’t even remotely meet his eyes. “After all, I’m the one who wanted things to go back to normal, remember?”

“That’s not—” Enjolras started, but Grantaire again cut him off.

“Goodnight, Enjolras.”

He left the Zoom call, and Enjolras stared at his laptop, trying to figure out what the hell had just happened.

And far more importantly, how he was going to fix it.

----------

Enjolras knocked on Grantaire’s apartment door, breathing in the fresh air for what felt like the first time in longer than he cared to admit.

Even though he had left his apartment during lockdown, it didn’t feel quite the same as it did now, and he smiled slightly as he glanced over his shoulder at the other people milling around in Grantaire’s apartment complex, all of them looking as happy as he was to be outside.

The door opened and Enjolras turned to look at Grantaire, who was staring at him as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. “Hi,” Enjolras said, wincing when he realized how stupid that sounded.

“What are you doing here?” Grantaire asked, still staring at him.

Enjolras hesitated. “I don’t want things to return to normal,” he blurted, everything he had carefully prepared going out the window, and Grantaire’s brow furrowed.

“Yes, you’ve made that perfectly clear, but what—”

“I don’t just mean, like, socioeconomically or anything,” Enjolras hurried to add. “I mean, um, between you and me. I don’t want that to go back to normal.”

Grantaire’s expression was unreadable. “Then what do you want?”

There were a thousand things that Enjolras had prepped for that exact moment, but he didn’t bother with any of them. Instead, he told Grantaire simply, “This,” before leaning in and kissing him.

Then, just as quickly, he pulled back, eyes wide. “Oh, wait, I’m sorry, affirmative consent, I should—”

Grantaire cut him off by kissing him, something heated and desperate in the press of his lips against Enjolras’s, as if he was afraid they’d lose the moment.

Enjolras wished he had never done or said anything that would make Grantaire feel that way.

When they broke apart this time, Grantaire was smiling, just slightly, almost nervously. “So, uh...dare I ask what this is about?”

“I like you,” Enjolras said, feeling his face flush as he said it. “And apparently, it took me a global pandemic to realize it.”

“Technically, you don’t have to say global and pandemic,” Grantaire said. “It’s implied.”

Enjolras sighed. “Grantaire—”

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t resist,” Grantaire said with a laugh, and Enjolras shook his head before reaching out and drawing Grantaire close, resting his chin on top of Grantaire’s head as he held him.

“I missed you,” Grantaire whispered, so quietly that Enjolras almost didn’t hear him.

“I know,” Enjolras said, kissing Grantaire’s forehead. “And I’m sorry that I was an idiot, and didn’t figure things out earlier.”

Grantaire arched an eyebrow. “Speaking of,” he said, lacing his fingers with Enjolras’s, “did you come to this realization on your own?”

The corners of Enjolras’s mouth twitched. “Would you believe me if I said yes?”

“No.”

Enjolras snorted and shook his head. “Fine, I had some help. And some sense knocked into me.” He made a face. “Apparently every single one of our friends figured it out before I did.”

“Color me shocked,” Grantaire muttered.

Enjolras ignored that, instead taking a deep breath so that he could say what he actually came to say. “Grantaire,” he said carefully, “one of the few bright parts of this fucking pandemic was spending time online with you. And I’d really like to continue spending time with you. And, well, I’m sorry that I didn’t figure that out until it was almost too late.”

“Well, you know what they say,” Grantaire said, a slow smile stretching across his face. “Better late than never.”

Enjolras laughed, but the sound was mostly lost against Grantaire’s lips as they kissed again, slower this time, Grantaire’s hand resting lightly against Enjolras’s cheek, the other gripping the front of Enjolras’s shirt as if he could somehow pull him closer.

Then, abruptly, he pulled away. “Hang on a second, I thought the first place you were going to go after this ended was City Hall.”

“What can I say, I lied,” Enjolras murmured, ducking his head to kiss Grantaire again, but this time, Grantaire didn’t let him.

“Really?” he asked skeptically.

Enjolras hesitated. “Well, no,” he admitted. “City Hall opened at 8 and I figured you wouldn’t be awake yet, so I went there first and then came here.”

Grantaire laughed loudly. “God, Enj,” he said, pulling Enjolras close and wrapping his arms around him again. “I’d say never change, but clearly we’ve proven that even a pandemic couldn’t change you.”

“Are you sure about that?” Enjolras asked, and Grantaire considered it for only a moment before kissing him again.

“Ok, fine, maybe it changed you just the right amount.”

“So I’ll take it you don’t want things to go back to normal?” Enjolras asked teasingly.

Grantaire rolled his eyes. “Fuck normal,” he said decisively, and Enjolras grinned.

“Technically, that’s what I’ve been saying all along,” he pointed out, and Grantaire cut him off by kissing him once more.

“Shut up,” Grantaire advised, and Enjolras grinned.

After all, who needed normal when they finally had each other?

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