#life is just sometimes a little v busy and my time management has never been good HAHAHAHA

[latetaektalk]

in how many years will there be a new chapter?😂😂🤭❤️

LISTEN 😭😭 I DONT WANT THIS EITHER SFDGSF im working on it i promise!!

[brighteststar707]

Okay write something for yourself for the last promt if it's not taken already! <33

Surprise! Bonus fic!

Here's the thing. There was one last request that came in exactly one minute after the twelfth slot was filled with a combination that I have been thinking about since I first read it.

So, I decided to make an exception and write a thirteenth fic as a little treat to myself, because I think I deserve it.

(Thank you, @jumin-ssi for initially sending in this combination! It has been staring at me from my ask box every time I open it - I blame you for my mini Jumin brainrot)

Jumin loves reluctantly

He would be the first to tell you that he has it all. A successful career, a good relationship with his father, a fulfilling friendship with V, a beautiful cat. He doesn't want for anything, least of all love.

It seems like a waste of energy and time, time he would rather spend sipping wine, or admiring his view of the cityscape with Elizabeth by his side. He has seen what pursuing love did to his father, what it does to his company. He has seen first-hand the kinds of people who try to intrude on his peace, all desperate for a slice of his life with zero interest in the person behind it all. It's enough having to deal with it for work. At least, when he's charming someone into signing a contract, the company benefits.

When you first meet, he is indifferent about you. You're just an acquaintance, and if he has his way, you won't be more than that.

But life likes to play games, especially with people like Jumin.

You're strangely determined to talk to him. Even though he leaves the chatrooms without telling you goodbye and responds to your excitement at your newfound situation with suspicion.

He can't imagine what you're trying to gain, what the fun is in talking to someone who only gives you unsatisfactory answers. Usually, this routine is enough to shake off most people.

But you're stubborn. You phone him up just to wish him a good day at work, and then again later on to ask about how it went. You take whatever he gives and don't push for more, which is a strange new experience for him. When you're not asking questions, you're sharing small tidbits about yourself - the view from the apartment, your personal favourite place to eat in the city, your latest exchange with a potential party guest. He remembers everything you say (sometimes having a perfect memory has its downsides) and your calls often leave him thinking about you long after you've hung up.

It's very frustrating.

He tells himself he has it all. He doesn't need his perfectly-balanced life upset by someone, least of all you, with your unpredictable ways. He has never met someone so distracting, so capable of upsetting his routine with a single message.

He especially tells himself that when he catches himself imagining a conversation with you at work. While drafting up a new business idea, he pictures explaining it to you, his thought process, the pros and cons. His frustratingly perfect memory manages to produce a convincing imitation of your voice as he imagines how you'd reply.

He must have had too much coffee before leaving home, that is all. It's doing strange things to his head. He should keep that in mind for the future.

He pushes you from his mind and returns to the report, this time without your made-up commentary. He manages to get through it quickly but hesitates before sending it off to Jaehee. It's a matter of curiosity, that's all, that prompts him to take a picture of the report to send to you.

It's irritatingly satisfying how close your reactions are to the ones he had imagined. You like the main idea, but you have some questions about the execution (he knew you would, and already has his answer ready for you). What he didn't predict, though, was your thoughts on how to expand the idea to other aspects of the business. How interesting.

He ends up confessing that he had been wanting to hear your feedback while working. Your laugh over the phone stirs something up in his chest that his imagination could never replicate, and he quickly ends the call.

Most people's voices tend to become tiresome after prolonged exposure. Some are high-pitched and often veer into shrill. Others are frustratingly monotone; they somehow manage to turn the most fascinating subjects boring. However, yours is one he never seems to tire of. He ends his calls to you feeling a bit more energetic than he was before.

The effect you're having on his life is worrying. He has swapped out his usual wine for one out his collection with similar notes to one you told him was your favourite. He is too busy telling Elizabeth about your thoughts on her newest collar to enjoy the view of the city.

Caught up in his worry over the situation, he phones up V the second he comes online again to relay these recent happenings to him.

"I'm losing focus, Jihyun, and I'm wondering if you have a remedy for me."

To his bemusement, V laughs.

"Jumin, I think you've grown fond of our new party planner."

"I have not. Don't be ridiculous, you know I'm not fond of anybody."

"You're fond of me."

"You're an exception."

"Well, maybe they are too. Give them a chance, and if you're right you'll get to rub it in my face."

He would have ignored advice from anybody else, but V's words get to him. He wishes he would have given him advice he could more easily follow. Take a holiday, Jumin. Get Elizabeth more toys. At least those were more realistic than what he had suggested.

He thought he had it all. The money, the family, the friends, the cat. But he doesn't have you, and it's a problem that's becoming harder and harder to ignore.

In the end, he takes V's advice. He downs his glass of wine, picks up his phone and calls you. There is this strange fluttering sensation in his stomach as he listens to the ringing.

Eventually, you pick up. If you're surprised by his change in tone, you don't let on.

"Hello, I hope it's not too late to be calling. I was wondering if you'd like to come visit the penthouse tomorrow? Elizabeth is anxious to meet the person I keep telling her about."

[vilebodys]

"𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘬 𝘮𝘺 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵 // 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘢𝘺 '𝘪 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦.'"

( mookda narinrak,  ciswoman,  she/her )     ANISA ’NISA’ ANURAK   :   is  the  twenty-eight  year  old  resident  that's  been  around  the  SEA CLIFF MARINA  for  six months.   when  the  infected  swarmed  the  streets  the  first  night,  nisa  managed to survive  on their own because of how  perceptive  +  level-headed  they  were.  however,  when they joined up with the group,  it  became  clear  just  how  blunt  +  stoic  they  are too.  five  years  has  passed  since  their  old  life  ended  and  the  new  one  began,  developing  skills  that  have  helped  them  become  a  RAIDER  within  their  group.  it  makes  sense  to  see  them  thriving  at  the  job  because  of  their  combat skills / cane sword.

WANTED CONNECTIONS

BASICS

name . anisa 'nisa' anurak . age . 28 , january 13 sexual orientation. bisexual former occupation : olympian athlete ( fencer )

DEEP DIVE

ZODIAC :  capricorn MBTI :  intj ENNEAGRAM :  the challenger TEMPERAMENT :  choleric ALIGNMENT :  true neutral ELEMENT : earth NEGATIVE TRAITS: stoic, blunt, insensitive, resentful, aloof POSITIVE TRAITS: loyal, balanced, level-headed, perceptive CHARACTER INSPIRATION: jung jaeheon ( sweet home ), mikasa ackermann ( snk ), inej ghafa ( six of crows ), mai ( atla )

BIOGRAPHY

chapter i.

sometimes bad things happen slowly, they creep up and then consume you, no one can ever tell when did it happen. yet, you can pinpoint the exact moment. something was broken. you’re only a child but your father is only a human. it seems like she’s slipping;  you feel like you can’t held him close. perhaps he's just busy to love you, perhaps this will pass soon, these are all excuses you tell yourself. you are not being abandoned.

chapter ii.

time passes, excuses run out. now there are only words to live by. you don’t need to be loved fully. there are always other ways to fill that blank space. you try to distract yourself and a trivial distraction turns into a passion. the time you could use to fix your relationship with your father is rather spent at the fencing center. you’ve never been good at fixing things anyway.

chapter iii.

the praise, the cheers, the success and one half of your heart is filled. nothing matters anymore, your eyes are set on the olympics. not on the crowd where only your mother is smiling at you. no mistakes are allowed and you don’t allow them. déjà-vu. again, you can pinpoint the moment your life isn’t crumbling, it’s breaking. an accident. you open your eyes, and pain suddenly feels real.

chapter iv.

you’ve never listened to anyone; but even if you did, everyone was wrong anyway. there are no options but you need to create one. despite of the pain, you continue, your dream hasn’t died yet. however, this has never been a story meant for a happy ending. the pain can’t be written out of it, effort would never soothe it. again, you’re in desperate need to create new options, you rely on other substances, only a little, only until then. 

chapter v.

and this is the end of your story. your dream hasn’t even begun and it has already ended. you’re disqualified. tears as hot as your anger are streaming down your face. ’ but these were my efforts ’ but no one wants to listen. 

chapter vi.

now you’ve abandoned yourself. you don’t even have yourself anymore. even your body is broken.  you’re too ashamed to face anyone and then you decide to abandon everything else. 

chapter vii

all of it is forgotten when you hear the news about the outbreak and all you can think of is to go home. and for some odd reason, in a last attempt you want to save your father, to save yourself and your family. but he's already gone. a miscalculation in your plan that leads to another tragedy. when you find your little sister the house is empty but she’s still there. and then you see her , your smile faltering when you realize her life is taken away in front of your eyes.

chapter viii

to be continued and yet to be written

MISC

she is still suffering from her shoulder injury which never got treated and is still causing her pain , especially whenever she uses her weapon. yet, she tries to disguise it and is secretly hoping to find someone who can treat her or at least help her with it ( wc !! )

she's relying heavily on painkillers and everything else that helps her to soothe her pain, hence she volunteered being a scavenger so she can secretly find some stuff for herself.

is very blunt and justifies it by claiming that one needs to get to a point in a middle of an apocalypse.

she's also secretly looking for unbelivably clichee romance novels whenever she has the chance to find a book. she acts highly suspicious from time to times but it is just her reading those novels and not wanting to be caught.

the outbreak made her realize of her own faults and weaknesses, and she does sometimes feels useless, hence, not wanting to admit her shoulder injury, since fighting is one of the only things she's (still good) at. she's desparate to learn new skills.

she doesn't know how to swim and is terrible afraid of it. if someone wants to kill her, that's the way to go ...

more tba

[evabritt]

Thinking about this dress

My whole life has been influenced by my three older cousins; Jasmine, Elizabeth, and Marley. Jasmine and Elizabeth are sisters. Marley is their natural cousin. I'm not actually related to them. Jasmine and Elizabeth’s mom is my mom's high school best friend. But we’ve always been told we’re cousins. They’re all around 5 years older than me. It's the perfect age gap. I feel like everyone wants to be five years older when they are young. When I was eleven I was so embarrassed about my age that I wanted to be 16 so desperately. Their Instagram was filled with prom pictures, football games, and spirit week. All things I respectfully chose not to participate in when I was actually in high school. But at the time it was like having three real-life Disney Channel stars. 

I would see my cousins a couple of times a year. Our families were busy and we lived about an hour away from each other. Every Time I saw them they would give me a massive bag of hand-me-downs. I delighted in these bags. These trash bags were probably the best thing about my childhood. As soon as we got home, my mom and I would sort through all of the clothes. I really admire my mother. She managed to raise a teenage daughter and not give her an eating disorder. When I tried the clothes on for her, she never made invasive comments about my pre-pubescent body. That's really impressive because I don't think I could successfully do that, I'm way too obsessed with my weight. But maybe this will ease with age. Off topic, but my mothers way of raising  Women should definitely  be written about by money hungry ghost writers. My outlook on life is shaped  by the fact that no one was calling me fat at age 12. She actually  never talked about my appearance. Now, as an adult I an extremely  over confident in all of my mediocre talents. 

Anyway, The clothes were always so cool and completely like anything I had ever seen. My mom took me to big strip malls warehouses like Kohls and Target for my clothes. My mother is practical and does not care much about fashion. Unlike me. The clothes of my cousins clearly came from that foreign place called “The Mall''. In the bags were things like light wash pre-ripped jeans, thin V-neck long-sleeved T-shirts, colorful polos, and lots of camo, it was a real potluck. Most of the clothes were too big and by the time I was the right size they would probably be considered “tacky”. It was my own personal trolly problem. Sometimes the clothes would already fit me. That was very exciting. It was so rewarding to find a shirt that fit my child's body and made me look like a teenager. It was exhilarating. 

I like now to imagine how it was for my cousins to send me these clothes. What it any fun for them to choose which items of theirs to send to their moms-old-friend-from-high-schools-daughter (cousin)? I bet they did it with their moms too. Marley's room was one of the biggest rooms I had seen when I was little. It was dark red and had so many little rooms attached to it. And she had a massive bed. I bet Marley and her mom made “Yes” and “No” piles. Both Marley and her mom are lawyers now. They must be very methodical. I imagine Jasmine and Elizabeth just threw clothes into the bag. I bet they often accidentally threw each other's clothes out. And then months later Elizabeth would notice Jasmine lost her shirt and they would all fight about the stolen shirt. I bet they wouldn't talk to each other for days. It must be very strange to grow up in a house like that. 

Meanwhile, I'm delighting in my new apparel. Sometimes they would send me things that felt very personal, old camp sweatshirts, for example. Their sweatshirts always had a small V cut right down the middle. I always thought that was so cute. Sometimes they would send me things that were for “teenagers''. These things were awkward to open up around my mom. I often tried to leave them in the garbage bag and retrieve them after my mom left the room. My mom and I do not talk about sex at all. I think she would be open with me if I wanted it that way. I think she knows I do not want it that way. I think it's weird when people talk about sex with their parents. Don't Ask, Don't Tell. 

Secretly, these kinds of items were my favorite to find. Once, when I was maybe around 10, I got a dress in the bag. It was a sort of jersey material. The bodice is white, the skirt part is solid black. The skirt goes all the way up till just below the bodice. I held the dress up in front of my mom and she told me not to try it on. I put it back in the bag. She then told me a story Jasmine and Elizabeth's mom told her. Jasmine bought the dress because her friend had the same one and Jasmine loved it. But when Jasmine put on the dress in front of her mom it was so tight and Jasmine looked, Sexy! A 15-year-old looking sexy was the punchline to the joke. What's that one quote about women being complicit in their own oppression? Sorry, I'm just being a contrarian. 15-year-olds are sexy? I thought. News to me. 

When my mom left the room I immediately put the dress on. Not to feed any creeps out there but at 10 I was probably 5’5 and 115 pounds. I was tall from an early age. But I think I stunted my growth with caffeine in the 7th grade. (Long story?). The dress was tight on me. It was tight to my chest. My rib cage was still kind of broad like a little boy's. The sight of my chest, my whole body wrapped so tightly in fabric made me feel aroused. I looked so much like a secretary. I have always been rather prone to unrealistic sexual fantasies. I remember walking out of my room and showing my mom. She said I looked like a hooker. Yeah, she probably was right. I bet I did look a bit like a child prostitute. That was probably really distressing for her to see. Her little girl dressed up like some pornographic secretary. 

All the worse, this dress made me genuinely aroused. It felt like that time just before this. I was watching a Marilyn Manson music video. “Rock is Dead” I'm pretty sure. Isn't that so creepy, like on my part? If I were just slightly crazier (and male)  I would definitely be a serial killer... I really have the disposition for that line of work. Why was I, as a child, horny at the thought of Marilyn Manson? Well, let's not point fingers. 

This dress was the start of a years-long sexual saga to understand this: Why Am I The Only Thing That Gets Me Hot? 

I've kept this dress my entire life. At many different times, I have tried it on. Every time, it looks better. I have it on now. It's tight around my chest but the fabric is sheer and you can see my nipples. I have big-ish boobs for my thin body. I never thought they looked good until other people told me they looked good. It was a real confidence boost, Thanks, boys! I remember the last time I had this on, I was around 16, bored during covid. I was on acid. (I am NOT a drug addict! I just do a lot of personally significant things on drugs! Especially sexy things!) The acid is a long story, we have no time for it. What I specifically remember is thinking that my hips looked weird and too wide. They look proportional now. What a relief: To turn 19 and see something pretty looking back at you in the mirror. 

With this dress on I took sexy pictures in my childhood bedroom. Sometimes I get high enough and find myself taking nudes. I am a neo-cyber-security-anti-fascist-libertarian and I believe in personal freedom so I under no circumstances, send nudes to men. It is a matter of morality. Stuff only the Founding Fathers really understood. I simply save all these photos to a private folder on my phone. It's fool-proof security. My mom would probably be disgusted if she saw these pictures of me. Posing for my iPhone's front camera on a Tuesday at 1 am. Weaning a dress I've had since I was 10. In the photo, I am grabbing at my tits and arching my back. I wonder if she would remember seeing me in the same dress.

[oddidocx]

dear, friend a

i've been wanting to write you a letter. of course, i would never let the wanting show. but i hate myself for not being able to greet you and hate myself even more when at the times it was so intense i also can't form a proper sentence–all there's left is just a helpless feeling with a grain of regret. i want to tell you how my year went as badly as i want to hear how yours went. but since you're not here to tell, then i'll share mine instead.

friend a, i think i had the better year of my life. this year was it–the happiness i've dreamed and once wondered if it would ever happen at all. i earned my degree. i landed on two internships at two respectable companies. i finally had enough money to buy things on my own; books, concert tickets, beauty products, clothes, and so many more. with that money, i was also able to bring my cats and the stray cats in front of my house to a better health. it cost a fortune, as you may have guessed, but i felt no regret. i felt so fulfilled and accomplished.

i went to four concerts this year, can you believe it? last year i didn't dare hoping to attend one, but i managed to go on four! and with my own money at that! those nights were arguably the best things that happened to me this year. even though i wasn't able to get out of bed the next morning, my body was all sore, and my mind was still somewhere else, they were still experiences where a new word of extreme happiness must be invented to be able to describe them. one of them, i had under the rain. it was practically a storm and my phone bathed in it. i think it's a miracle that it's still functioning perfectly until now.

i also went to korea this year. i observed how different they are from the people in our country. they walk so fast, friend a! their train and buses are always on time. the city is clean, the air is fresh, the wind is so chilly sometimes it feels like it stabs my eyes. and, oh, the beauty commercials don't lie, all of them have great skin. now i understand the beauty pressure they have to go through, because everyone is beautiful. i walked among the crowd and i wanted to dress myself as a mummy.

there was one time when i was waiting for the bus. this old man was sitting beside me and from my peripheral vision, i couldn't help but notice that something was bothering him. but since i wasn't in my own country, i didn't dare to look and decided to mind my own business. a couple of seconds later, the old man asked me, "dari indonesia?". and i was so shocked that he spoke in bahasa. i told him yes, and he asked when did i arrive and when will i go back home. he then told me his story that he used to work in indonesia for 9 years with his wife and that's how he learned the language. he said all of this with a very warm smile and we continued to have a short conversation in bahasa. i was very happy, friend a, to make acquaintance with the old man. moreover, i felt somehow honored and proud that he was fidgeting because he wanted to talk to me. to me, at that time, he was almost like a little kid. sadly, the bus came before we could continue. he bid me goodbye and wished me a safe travel. friend a, i had only known him for less than five minutes, but as i saw the bus drifting away, i couldn't help but feel a sort of loss in my heart, but at the same time hopeful for i didn't know what. perhaps it was because i knew that it was something that would only happen to me once in a long time and i felt sad that the moment has ended yet hopeful that something like that might occur again.

the next day i went shopping in namdaemun with my sister. it's a very popular shopping district in seoul. the street was filled with cute cafes, expensive restaurants, fashion boutiques, photobooths, everything. i was looking for some bucket hats when i turned around and saw that my sister was speaking to a shop owner. before i continue, my sister has been studying korean independently you should see her duolingo streaks. she was conversing with this very warm old man who owns the souvenir shop. he told her that she spoke good korean and turned to me asking if i knew korean too. i told him that i didn't know korean but i could speak a little japanese. and he suddenly spoke to me in japanese! i was startled i immediately lost every japanese word i had ever known and made a fool out of myself. he was only laughing warmly, not a slight mockery was found in his voice. he told me and my sister that we could come back again if we wanted to learn korean or japanese or if we wanted to look around. again, friend a, i wanted to cry at that very moment. don't you ever want to cry when someone offers you such kindness?

friend a, i've also been roaming around the internet. i made friends, some i keep very close to me. i went by another name–one you don't call me by–and chat more often with my internet friends than my real life friends. sometimes, i forgot how my internet friends don't know the name you know me by. sometimes i got embarrassed of that name. for some reason, the other name i was displaying to the internet represents a cooler, more social, and fun person. and i was afraid they will be confused on who i was when i was not the person who holds that name.

i have such a long time to contemplate about this. but friend a, i wish you met me now and not years ago. you would be proud of me. i wish you didn't have to see the ugly parts of me and only witness the me who have found pieces of peace little by little. maybe then i was able to call you without having my past action haunt me in the back of my mind inciting that i was being embarrassing. i couldn't even wish you a happy birthday because i felt like i had no more right to do so. i didn't know how our bond was severely injured. i wonder who did this to us?

so yes, this was the better year of my life, but it wasn't the best. for it to be the best, it needs to have you in it. happy new year :)

[real-jane]

everything, everything

[steve rogers x female reader]

summary: steve and his partner are undercover on assignment, hiding out as husband and wife. the line between reality and fiction is too thin, and steve can't take much more.

warnings: steve is v dumb, pining/longing/etc, smut, canon level violence, smut, and also some smut is in it.

a/n: thank you to @sanguineterrain for the original prompt: "How about a Steve x reader who have to go undercover as a married couple and oh NO, they're pining for each other and don't know it! Whatever shall they do?! 😳😏"

enjoy!

--

He’s too stunned to move when the doorbell rings, so she slips between Steve and the counter with pink-stung lips and hastens to answer it. All the air in the room rushes out with her.

She’s not supposed to kiss me when nobody is around to see her do it.

Three weeks. It’s only been three agonizing weeks. When did the fiction bleed into reality? When did his hands start aching to reach for her? 

‘You get along so well already,’ Bucky had said, ‘it will be nice to be undercover with someone who doesn’t get on your nerves.’ Except… Steve has never had less clarity in his entire life, especially not now, after she kissed the daylights out of him.

The smoke detector is his only saving grace. The pancakes he got up early to make for breakfast are charred beyond recognition, and he throws open the window to let out the smoke… and whatever hot air is keeping his brain from actually processing.

“Everything okay, baby?” she calls from the front room. Steve clenches his jaw.

“Wouldn’t you know it–I burned breakfast,” he replies, in as chipper a tone as he can manage.

“That’s why my husband doesn’t go anywhere near the kitchen. I’m surprised you let him try, Betsy.” Ugh. Sharon. Her husband is on a permanent business trip to live with his other family, a fact that SHIELD had uncovered in the process of vetting the neighborhood. Wayne Carter is also a very good cook. Sharon Carter puts on a haughty face for a woman who hasn’t seen her husband in nine months. Betsy… the alias his partner wears like the Southern Belle she most certainly isn't… she hates Sharon, but she’s a good actress.

“Oh, Steve’s a wonderful cook! But I was distracting him.” 

His ‘wife’s’ little giggle is enough to make Steve snap the spatula in half. He stares at the bisected plastic in shock.

“Bex, what do you say I take you out for breakfast?” Steve rubs his jaw and gives up on the pan, which is entirely unsalvageable. “Mimosas and crepes, yeah?”

“Steven Rogers, you’re gonna spoil me rotten.”

“Impossible.” 

Steve can’t stop the panic rising in his chest. It isn’t supposed to be like this. She’s a fantastic agent, and that’s all. God–he wants to kiss her until she can’t pretend anymore. He needs to have the upper hand, to retain just one ounce of professionalism as Captain fucking America. People know who he is. He’s on assignment. They aren’t married for real. 

And yet.

Realization washes over him and he leans against the counter in despair. 

Every evening, when she bids him ‘goodnight’, he hopes that she skips past the first bedroom and finds her way to his. Cooking for her? His favorite part of every day. He’s googled so many recipes that the app suggests fancy breakfast food. He wears that one blue shirt as often as he can because she smiled the first time he did.

Coming ‘home’ is his only source of comfort, because she is always standing on the porch… waiting. Sometimes a neighbor is talking with her; she’s so kind that it has been easy ingratiating themselves into the neighborhood. Nine times out of ten, she’s got a glass of lemonade in hand, slick with condensation, waiting for him. It’s the weekends that are most torturous, when he has no reason to be out of her presence. Like this particular Saturday morning.

It’s very easy to forget why they’re there. They’re so close to uncovering the ring–she fills him in on the dirt she’s dug up while playing cards, or gardening, or just gossiping with the ladies each day. The women on this street tell her things that he’s struggled to weasel out of hardened criminals. Steve is fairly certain he’s going to burst into flames before they succeed in this assignment. He’s ashamed of himself. She doesn’t deserve some sicko fixating on her, especially not her partner. He’s a public figure, for Christ’s sake! He’s better than this.

Her hand presses against the small of his back. Steve starts and wheels on her. She bites back a smile at the sight of him, and raises a hand to his cheek. 

“You look like you’ve been sweeping the chimney,” she laughs.

He steps away, out of her grasp. “I’ll just get cleaned up, if you wanna go.”

“Oh. You really wanna go out for breakfast?” The surprise in her voice stabs him square in the chest.

“Why not?” he shrugs. “I destroyed the good pan anyway.”

“Are you okay?”

No. Absolutely not, under no circumstances. “What did Sharon want?” He still hasn’t looked her in the eye.

“She went through Zemo’s garbage,” she says, as if she’s impressed by Sharon’s gall. “She found like twenty packs of cold medicine.”

His head snaps up. “You’re kidding.”

“Nope. She’s got the bags in her garage, she texted me a picture, too. Look.” She holds up her cell phone and sure enough, a black trash bag filled with boxes of off-brand medicine fills the screen. “This is what we’ve been waiting for, Steve.”

“Oh my god…” he can’t help but laugh in astonishment. “This is reason enough for a warrant.”

“I already sent Fury the photo. Can you believe it?”

He wants so badly to pull her into his arms and hold on for dear life. Because if they’ve truly uncovered the lynch pin of the whole organization, then their days playing house are numbered. Worse than loving her is the thought of no longer getting to pretend, and hang all his hopes on precious public displays of affection. You two look so in love, one of the neighbors had said during their welcome block party. Steve had his arm wrapped around her shoulders then, because being the facsimile of a married couple was still too new to know how to comfortably interact in a way that seemed real. She lets herself be kissed by him with a sweet smile on her face, now. Her fingers always entwine with his, especially when they’re over at someone else’s house. 

For one brief second, Steve considers how easy it would be to steal the bags from Sharon’s garage and destroy the evidence… but what would his partner think of him if she found out what he had done? Maybe that was the best way to push away these embarrassing feelings–push her away. Make them strangers, again.

“Steve–hey!” She snaps in front of his face. “What’s wrong with you?”

He shakes his head, but the heat which floods his cheeks is mortifying. “I slept weird. Not fully awake yet.”

She frowns. “Why don’t you go lay down? I’ll order breakfast in, and we can wait for Fury’s directive.”

“I don’t need to lay down,” he says quickly. “I’m fine.”

“You keep zoning out–”

“I said I’m fine, so I’m fine.”

“...why are you being like this?” She crosses her arms, leaning against the counter. “You’re pissy.”

“Can you just leave it alone?” he sighs.

“We’re in deep cover and you want me to ignore it? I’m gonna nag you until you communicate, Rogers–”

“You’re not entitled to every little thought in my head, alright?” Steve throws his hands up in the air. “This is a sham marriage, remember? Stop pushing me and accept that I don’t want to talk, I’m fine.”

She opens her mouth to press the matter, but thinks better of it. She looks away and nods, but she breathes in raggedly. “Well fuck me, I guess. Fuck my feelings. Crepes?” 

Steve’s heart plummets through the tile floor as she turns away to leave the kitchen. He lunges before he can stop himself and grasps her wrist, staying her exit. Words clog his throat. She waits with one eyebrow raised, but when he can’t make the apology come, she rips her hand from his. Steve is left with the horrible feeling that he has ruined everything good between them… the real rapport they’ve built sharing an assignment, and the fake one which allows her to touch him freely where anyone can see.

And kiss him where they can’t.

He waits for her on the front porch in blue, having scrubbed the pancake ash from his face. She emerges from the house in a sundress. The light pink one which always robs him of sanity. For a moment her face is stony, but then her expression lightens to exuberance and she waves–beyond Steve, to the passing neighbor on the sidewalk.

“Hi Joe!”

“Hiya, Rogerses! Where ya off to on this fine morning?” The old man braces himself on their little gate.

Five soft fingers curl around Steve’s elbow and he remembers that he’s supposed to be helplessly in love with this woman. Well… no acting required, he thinks with a wince. He covers her hand with his.

“Somebody destroyed breakfast,” Steve says, pointing his thumb at himself, “so he’s gonna treat his wife to some French cuisine.”

“Good on you, boy. Betsy deserves the best.”

“That she does,” Steve says, a hair too earnestly.

“Talking about me like I’m not even here!” She giggles. “Joe, do you still need Steve’s help moving that dresser?”

Steve tightens his hand over hers. They’ve talked time and again about how Joe is capable of stealing one’s entire day, and how frustrating it is when he’s trying to keep tabs on Joe’s neighbor to have a two-hour conversation about hydrangeas–

“If he’s offering!” Joe smiles expectantly at Steve, who bobs his head.

“I could do that for ya. How’s this afternoon?”

“You know where to find me!” Joe salutes and totters back down the street towards his small bungalow. 

Once they are seated inside Steve’s car, shielded by darkly tinted windows, he dares to study her. She ignores him, typing away on her phone. “What was that?” he asks lowly.

“You’ve been trying to find a reason to case his house,” she says, not looking up. “I got you an in.”

He clears his throat. “Right. Good idea.”

“You’re not the only influential Rogers in the neighborhood.”

Steve sighs. “‘M sorry–”

“It’s forgotten.” Her phone rings in her hand and she answers immediately. “Hello? No, unsubstantiated for now but Steve is going into Joe O’Leary’s later today while I pop over to Sharon’s. No, he’s just the only house we haven’t found a reason to go inside. It was Steve’s idea, actually.”

Steve pinches the bridge of his nose. It absolutely was not, and if he’s honest with himself, he can’t quite figure out which part of this assignment he’s actually contributed to. She has all of the good ideas, she thinks of things he never would’ve dreamt of. 

“--Yeah. Zemo is hunting this weekend, apparently. We won’t. Nick–that was one time!” she huffs. “I have the scar. We won’t go to his house until you’ve got the warrant. Why does every man around me insist on being so damn stubborn? No–god, I forget you have us triangulated at all times. We’re headed out for breakfast. I burned the pancakes, so…” She glances at Steve and shakes her head. “No, I copy. We’ll stay put. I’ll tell him.”

She hangs up and her head falls back against the seat. “He wants us to stay in place, and wait until he gives the okay to check out Joe and Sharon’s.”

“We already told both of them we’re going out… won’t that look suspicious?”

“I dunno… drive to the gas station. I’ll buy you some shitty coffee. At least our car will have left the driveway.”

“I’m buyin’,” Steve says, starting the car. “Last time I checked, you’re not the one who charred the pancakes.”

“It was still my fault.”

“You can buy me a moon pie, for my trouble.”

“I’ll buy you a whole box.” He can’t help the way his mouth turns up at one side, and when he looks at her, she’s smiling sadly. “I don’t like it when we’re at odds.”

Steve shakes his head. “No.”

“Partners?” She holds out her hand, but before he takes it…

“Why’d you do it?” His voice is soft, pleading. She shrugs.

“I wanted to. Don’t you ever do things, just because you want to?”

“Um. No, I don’t have that luxury.”

“I forgot who I’m talking to.” Her chin dips bashfully. “Just forget it happened, okay? We kiss in front of other people all the time, it’s a habit.”

“...which you wanted to do.”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“I haven’t overanalyzed it. Like you are doing right now.” She wiggles her fingers and Steve laces his in. “Partners. Do you wanna tell me what was going on with you?”

“Well… I suppose I was thinking about all this being done. It’s, uh. Hard to tell sometimes what’s part of the cover, and–”

“What’s real,” she finishes. “Maybe the truth is somewhere in the middle. We don’t have to answer that today.”

“I like holding your hand,” he admits. “I–shit, sweetheart, I-I’m sorry I’ve been so distracted.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

“Yeah. But I don’t have enough caffeine in me for that conversation,” he says, squeezing her hand.

“You can do it back, if you want. You keep looking at my lips. It’s okay if you want to, Steve.”

“I don’t want to ruin it,” he murmurs.

“Only way to do that is to shut me out.”

He studies her neatly manicured nails. “I want to. So bad.”

“But?”

“I don’t know. Can’t think straight as it is. What’s it gonna do to me–”

“Hush.” She holds their clasped hands to her lips. “It’s okay.”

“No–it isn’t.” He squeezes. “It’s unprofessional.”

“If you think I haven’t spent the last three weeks relishing the fact that I get to spend every evening watching trash tv with you, staring at your ass, and listening to you laugh… fuck professional, Steve. I didn’t mean for it to happen, okay? You caught me off guard with your sweetness. I knew I was in trouble the first time you kissed me.”

“But this is gonna end…”

“It doesn’t have to. I–” She stops to cup his cheek and brush her thumb over his jaw in reassurance. “I don’t wanna go a single day without kissing you. I don’t care if it started because we’re pretending.”

“It’s never been pretend for me,” he breathes. 

She moves first, because she knows that he can’t do it without real permission, where there’s no question why it’s happening. He moans against her mouth; it’s always felt like his lips were meant for hers, but with nobody watching… It's a gift. She is precious to him. He cradles her face to say as much, without putting voice to it. Kissing her this way strips him of all ceremony. He’s just a city boy with a crush on a beautiful girl, who kisses like a dream. It’s freeing. If anyone saw them making out in the driveway, what would it give away? Nothing which doesn’t show on his face every time he looks at her. Because Steve can’t pretend like she isn’t the center of his world. Not when he has permission to kiss her in private.

His tenuous control snaps.

She keens as his lips traverse her jaw to nip at the tender skin below her ear. “Been holding out on me, Rogers.” He sucks a mark, blooming a ruddy bruise on her throat. Then, he lavs that spot, pulling more heavenly sounds from her lips. “Fuck.”

“I think about that, too,” he whispers against her skin. “But I’m trying to be a gentleman.”

“We wouldn’t be the first partners to do it.”

“Remember when we caught Bucky and Nat after Bulgaria?” Steve eases the strap of her dress off the curve of her shoulder.

“God,” she sighs, tugging on his hair so he’ll find her mouth again. She catches his bottom lip. “You wouldn’t look at me.”

He blinks at her through heavy eyelids. “I was thinking about you.”

“You wanna fuck me in a bunk on the quinjet?” she scoffs. Her fingers card through his hair.

“Anywhere. Have forever. Buck knows. ‘S why he suggested you for this.”

She smiles against his mouth. “Remind me to send him a thank you card.”

“Can I touch you?”

“In the driveway?” she gasps, even as she guides his hand towards the hem of her dress.

“Windows are too dark to see in.”

“You’re kinker than I thought–fuck.”

He traces the pads of his fingers over her soft skin. Steve bites his lip, watching her eyes flutter as his hand gets closer to touching her where he wants to, most. “Think I’m vanilla, agent?”

“That is your favorite ice cream flavor.”

Steve stops for a second and squeezes her thigh in affection. He presses a soft kiss to the corner of her mouth. She chases her lips after his, and pauses just a breath from his face. They smile at each other, drunk on uncorked arousal. 

“Vanilla,” he whispers, tracing the hem of her panties, “is a complex flavor. Goes with everything. Chocolate. Cherries…” Steve dips his fingers beneath the silky fabric. She cants her hips to give him better access. He finds the little bud at her apex, worrying the bundle of nerves enough to make her moan.

“Exhibitionism,” she pants.

“In small quantities,” he chuckles. “Gimme your lips, sweets.”

She does so like a woman starved, but her head falls back as he sinks one finger into her heat. “Steven.”

“‘M here.”

“So good.” She rolls her hips to meet his hand. He thumbs her clit with every stroke. “Had a dream–mmph. You fingered me at a barbeque.”

“I’d do it. Under the table?”

“Mm. No. In the pool.”

“Our pool, sweetheart?” Steve works a second finger with the first easily. She’s drenched, she’s gorgeous. 

She nods. “Yeah. But I couldn’t make a face because everybody was around.”

“What, then?” Steve feels her squeezing him tight. She’s close. He’s never wanted anything more in his life than to make her come. He doesn’t care how much work it takes to clean the seat afterwards. He’ll do it with a smile, as long as she comes.

“You made me orgasm in front of the whole neighborhood. Then you got in the hot tub and you made me sit on your dick.”

“Were you keeping me hard?” He tugs the cups of her dress down with his free hand and bears her breasts. “Christ. You’re so beautiful.”

“Nobody knew, and the bubbles covered us,” she sighs. “Right there, right–oh fuck. What about you?”

Steve groans as her hand finds his straining dick over the top of his jeans. “I’m gonna bust my zipper the second you come.”

“Wanna feel you. Please.”

He nods his consent, but not before flickering his tongue against her nipple. She stays his hand by turning her nails into the skin at his wrist, and forces him to lean his seat back so she can unbutton his pants, but she doesn’t get very far–

The back window of the vehicle shatters. Steve throws himself over her, peering above her headrest. She groans.

“I was so close,” she wheezes. 

“Stay down, sweetheart.” Steve kisses her cheek and then throws the car into reverse, turning the wheel like a madman to dodge their attacker… Sharon. Standing on her front porch with a rifle. She raises the gun to take another shot, now that she has her sights on him. 

“Roll down your window, baby!” 

Steve doesn’t hesitate. His partner yanks the top of her dress up, lays half-way across his lap, and fires her own weapon (pulled from god-knows-where), catching their attacker in the shoulder. Sharon drops her rifle, but the gun discharges, destroying one of Steve’s tires with an explosive POP! The car drops heavily towards the front wheel well. Sharon staggers to retrieve her gun. After one more precise shot, she falls. Steve takes the gun from his partner when it is offered. She retrieves his pistol from the glove compartment, and they each get out of the car warily.

“Do you wanna trade?” Steve calls.

“You think I can’t shoot with your gun?” Her voice is sweet and teasing.

“I said no such thing. Is she dead?” They flank the unconscious woman… sure enough, she’s down for good, with one bullet right between the eyes. Steve exchanges a look of shock with his partner.

“Yes. Must’ve been desperate to risk taking us out like this. I’d say we found the rat,” she says. 

“I guess so.”

“She has the shittiest timing.” She grins at him, which makes Steve’s ears turn red. She retrieves her phone from the car and makes a call. 

Steve keeps his weapon at the ready. Several of the neighbors peer out their front windows in concern, but none are stupid enough to come out and investigate the ruckus. He attempts to stand between the body and the street, at least to obscure the pooling blood below Sharon’s head. 

It doesn't take ten minutes for a dozen black SUV’s to come squealing down the sleepy street. By the time they take over the block, Steve and his partner are leaning against his car, glancing at each other with small smiles. They’ve collected themselves somewhat; he made sure there was no visible sign that she’d been just moments from an orgasm when they were shot at (other than the hickey, which he hopes nobody notices), and they attempt to look concerned that their attacker wasn’t someone they expected. But it’s especially hard for Steve to be stoic, because he knows how it feels to touch her. He settles for looking smug. He is, but who’s to say why?

Bucky accompanies the agents who emerge from the trucks, as does Fury. “Cap. Agent.”

“Director,” she acknowledges. “Sergeant.” Bucky wrinkles his nose at her.

“Walk me through what happened.” She steps forward with Fury and walks him towards the body, while Bucky hangs back with Steve. Barnes leans over and whispers.

“Your fly’s undone.”

Steve sighs. “Shit. Why are you staring at my crotch, huh?” He fixes the aforementioned zipper as discreetly as possible.

“Old habits die hard.” Bucky folds his arms and leans against the car.

“What would Natasha say to that?”

“...you think she doesn’t stare at your crotch, punk?”

“You two are nightmares.” Steve can’t help but chuckle, despite himself. “Carter annoyed the hell outta me, but I didn’t think she was involved.”

“You trying to change the subject?”

“Not succeeding, apparently.” 

Just then, his partner looks up at him, gesturing towards him and then down the street, which is swarming with agents in black suits. 

“Cool it with the puppy dog eyes,” Bucky murmurs.

Steve glares at him. “Shut up. That’s just how my face looks.”

“Not when you look at me,” Bucky says, elbowing him in the side. “Did you tell her?”

Steve’s eyes dart away, and he can’t help but smile. He twists his mouth to keep from breaking out into a full smile.

“Thank God,” Bucky says.

“Rogers!” Fury waves him over. Steve strides towards the director with his hands in his pockets. “I think your partner is a little shell shocked. Why don’t you take her to the house? I’ll catch up with you in a bit. I think it’s going to take a few hours for us to do a preliminary search of Carter’s.”

Steve glances at his partner, who has her hands clasped at her waist, twisting her fingers. She indeed looks quite shocked, eyes wide and unblinking as she stares up at him. “Yes sir.”

“I’m glad you two didn’t do anything hasty and stayed put. This could’ve gone a whole lot worse.” 

Steve nods. He manages the world’s most convincing performance of concern, wrapping his arm around his partner’s shoulders. She leans into his side, letting him guide her across the street to the house with ‘Rogers’ painted on the mailbox. He doesn’t dare look at Bucky, nor does he want to risk saying anything until they’re safely concealed from the rest of the world. But the moment they’re inside, he presses her back against the front door. She smiles softly.

“Did that get your blood going?” she asks. “Getting shot at with your fingers inside me.”

He huffs. “Your mouth, I swear.”

“What’re you gonna do about it?”

“Do you want this?” He asks, working his knee between hers until she has to stand on her tip-toes. She nods breathlessly. “Out loud, or I stop.”

“I’ve heard you come,” she laughs. “In the shower. When you think you’re being quiet. I talk myself out of joining you every time, but I wanna see your face when you have an orgasm. I think you’ll be the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Steve shivers. “Pretty, huh?” He lowers his mouth slowly to hers, but stops as she gasps. His hands find the globes of her ass, inching under the panties he’s going to destroy. He watches her eyes dilate with arousal. She smirks.

“You’re a pretty man, Rogers. ‘S why I married you.”

Steve gapes at her for just a minute. He shakes his head in disbelief, shrugging off the euphoria which rises in him at the thought of this woman truly being everything. Her fingers creep to his jaw.

“What?”

He sighs. “That’s all I want. To have this. All the time.”

“A wife, baby?”

“And babies, sweetheart.”

“You told Joe you wanted three… you were being serious.”

“I was.” His eyes flick back and forth to study her irises. They’re glassy. 

“You’d want that with… me?”

“How long have you known me?” He asks, kissing her forehead. 

Her hands wrap behind his head, stroking his nape. “That’s a big step. We’re not even together–”

“I’ve been telling anyone in a ten mile radius that you’re my wife for three straight weeks, and nothing has ever felt more right.” Steve levels his eyes with hers. “I want as much as you’re willing to give me.”

Her eyes crinkle as she smiles. “God. You take a girl’s breath away. I… I don’t know if I want kids, Steve–”

“But you want me.”

“Yes,” she sighs. 

“Then I don’t care. You can think about it.”

“What if the answer is ‘no’? Could you be content with only me?”

“Only–sweetheart. You are everything.” Steve kisses her eyelids as they shut in relief. “We could always have dogs.”

She laughs in surprise, and it’s his favorite sound in the whole world. “Why don’t we start from the beginning, and see where we end up?”

“Where’s that?” He noses her cheek. 

“Give each other orgasms for the first time. I mean, if I’m gonna think about having babies, don’t you think I should know how your dick feels?”

“You make a very good point,” he says with mock seriousness, tapping his chin. “In the spirit of investigation.”

“To make a truly informed decision.”

“Right… if we do this, we’re gonna have to tell Fury.”

She looks at him guiltily. “He… knows. I sorta forgot that the car is bugged.”

Steve freezes with wide eyes. “Shit.”

“...Yeah.”

“Well…”

“We have no reason to hide it, now.” She finds the hem of the shirt she likes so much and tickles her nails across his abdomen. “Besides, I gotta admit that I kinda found it, I dunno… hot? That people heard us.”

Steve locks the front door over her shoulder and walks backwards, tugging her towards the stairs. He spins her so her heels catch on the step, forcing her to sit down abruptly. Steve follows, latching his lips over hers hungrily. He probably should feel embarrassed, but how can he when this beautiful woman wants him? No man in his right mind would be ashamed of her. 

He rends the gusset of her panties. For such a talkative person, she sure has nothing to say when his fingers find her clit again. Just incoherent moans. Steve has three fingers inside her by the time she comes, walls fluttering around his thrusting hand. Her head falls back in ecstasy as she soaks his fingers. He wastes no time working his pants down enough to free his dick; her hands urge his shirt off so she can run the tips of her nails down his chest, flicking against his nipples and making him buck. She’s bringing kinks out in him he didn’t even know he had. 

She wraps one hand around him, making his head fall forward against her collar. He nips at her tendon in retaliation. She guides him until his dick is tucked between her folds, and rolls her hips to take him in. Steve obliges. He sinks into her fully, and groans.

“Fucking hell,” she breathes. 

“You’re tight, sweets.” He teases the seam of her lips with his tongue, inviting her to lose herself completely. She’s still sensitive from her first orgasm, shivering when he brushes her clit, so Steve stays still. Buried deep in the woman of his dreams.

“Was it like this, in your dream?” he asks, stroking her cheek softly. She smiles blissfully.

“No. This is better than anything my brain made up. You gotta move.”

“What if I didn’t? And I made you sit with my dick inside you all day long.” Steve shimmies her dress up her torso until she arches her back enough to let him pull it over her head. But he fists the fabric at her wrists, capturing her hands so she can’t touch him. She whines.

“Jesus. Who knew you were so controlling?” Her inner muscles contract and he huffs.

“If I thought I could control you for one second, you’d know it by now,” he says, rolling his hips. “But you’re the one who’s got me wrapped around your finger.”

“Yeah?” she gasps. “You’ve got me tied up.”

“You don’t need your hands to have me right where you want me, sweetheart, and you know it.”

She kisses him hard. “Fuck me. So I have bruises from these stairs.”

“Yes ma’am.”

He snaps his hips forward to do just that, and he’s in heaven. He’s got little experience compared to some of the agents he hears bragging about their trysts in the gym, but by god, he’s never fucked a woman like this. Especially not someone he loves. His knees burn from the carpet, and his boots attempt to slide off his bracing step–hell, his pants aren’t even to his knees, but he fucks her like a desperate man, because that’s what he is. He wants her to come again, more than anything. Hard. Who cares if he doesn’t, as long as she finds pleasure?

Her hands slip free of their restraints easily, and she grasps his back for dear life. He’ll feel the marks from her nails in the shower, he’s sure of it. Steve doesn’t realize his eyes are closed until she gasps. His eyes snap open–she’s arching up, chasing her release. He reaches between their bodies to find her clit and rolls it as he thrusts. It’s enough to send her over the edge. She cries out, and it’s all he can do not to come at the sight of her. But he thrusts through her orgasm until she’s whining with sensitivity. She grips his ass.

“Baby–please. It hurts.” 

Steve braces himself on his elbows and freezes, kissing her in apology. “Mmm. I’m so sorry, sweetheart. You okay?” She nods, kissing him back slowly. 

“You need to come.”

“I’m okay.”

“No!” She protests. “I want you to. I have to see it. Please–pull out, I’ll help you.” 

The moment he rises up, she’s reaching for him… he can’t think with the way her fingers wrap around him, tugging him ever closer towards his own orgasm. He’s kneeling beside her on the stairs, watching her in rapt awe. She worships him, but she’s too gentle. He tightens her fingers with his to show her that she doesn’t need to be so careful with him. She’s a fast learner. She pumps him with as much care as he showed her, her eyes fixed to his face to catch every little expression of pleasure. When he’s close, he falls down onto his elbow, right at her side. She smiles, and he can’t help but smile back because god, he loves her. She’s everything. He’s never felt so good. He’s soaring. She coaxes him through his orgasm, painting her belly with his come. He turns his teeth into her shoulder to keep from bellowing, which makes her wince and laugh all at once. Then, he lets himself fall fully onto the stairs beside her, so they’re both staring up at the ceiling in awe. 

He laughs. 

“Yeah… you’re pretty, alright,” she breathes.

“I should’ve gotten you to bed.” He looks over at her. A faint sheen of sweat makes her glow like a goddess, and she shakes her head.

“I think this was as far as we were gonna make it.” She raises her hand to stroke his cheek but she’s shaking a little. Steve takes her hand and kisses it.

“What’s the verdict?” he whispers.

She giggles. “More research required.”

“Do you think the house is bugged?”

“...Not anymore.”

He can’t help but laugh at the innocent smile on her face. “Shit, sweets. You made me hungry. I could really go for those moon pies right about now.”

She beckons him to meet her in a kiss. “After that, baby? I’ll give you the whole moon.”

--

thanks for reading!

my masterlist - my marvel masterlist

[belphies-wife]

What Naps Are Like With Them (Everyone)

In celebration of my first post kinda blowing up, I wrote a little something for all the characters, including Luke! (platonically for him, of course)

Again, thank you guys for all the love on my Satan Reacting to Montero fic <3 I’ll be working on requests after this.

Also, no beta we die like Lilith.

»»————-　♔　————-««

Lucifer

➼ Never sleeps, e v e r

➼ His brothers would destroy the House of Lamentation in his sleep

➼Took a while to convince him to take a nap with you because of this

➼ His brothers listen to you more than they listen to their older brother, so you begged them to behave for a few hours so that their older brother can rest for once

➼ You will use your pact if you have to, just please let this man sleep

➼ You made sure to pick a day where you know Lucifer hadn’t slept the night before due to his workload

➼ Seriously, you had to talk to Diavolo about that

➼ You both got into your comfiest pajamas and played some soft classical music for ultimate relaxation

➼ You thought about taking a picture of hm while he slept

➼ He saw it coming and had you sleep facing away from him with his arms wrapped around you so you couldn’t turn around

➼ Smart bastard

➼  If you complain about it he’ll laugh at you

➼ Hey, at least you get cuddles

➼ Luci here looks so calm and peaceful while he sleeps, it’s adorable

➼ No wonder everyone tries to take a picture of him sleeping

➼ He’s a heavy sleeper, so you end up having to wake him up after a few hours

➼ He thanks you

➼ He’s well-rested and in a good mood for the rest of the day

➼ His brothers obviously take advantage of that

»»————-　♔　————-««

Mammon

➼ Unlike most of his brothers, he actually has a decent sleep schedule (most of the time)

➼ However, if you wanted to take a nap with him, he wouldn’t say no

➼ Well, he’d say no, but then say yes immediately after

➼ “Whaddya mean you wanna take a nap with me? Do I look like Belphie!?”

➼ Blushing like crazy while complaining, as usual

➼ “Fine, I’ll go nap with him, then.”

➼ “Oi! Come back here! I changed my mind, I wanna take a nap!”

➼ Tsundere baby

➼ Obviously, you tease him about it

➼ “Jealous, huh? I thought that was Levi’s thing.”

“Shut up! Are we gonna cuddle or not?”

“I said nap, not cuddle.”

➼ Cue the pout

➼ The definition of the 🥺 face

➼ Please love this child

➼ “I’m kidding, of course we’re gonna cuddle.”

➼ Usually a little spoon

➼ Unless he’s in a jealous mood

➼ If he is, he will hold on to you like his life depends on it.

➼ More teasing, obviously

➼ If you think about it, Greed and Envy are very similar

➼ Poor baby wants love

➼ New drinking game: take a shot every time I call Mammon a baby

➼ I shot of water, I know you’re dehydrated

➼ Anyways, naps with Mammon = cuddles

➼ Either you’re holding him to you or he’s holding you to him

➼ f o r e h e a d  k i s s e s

➼ Mammon gets nightmares about what happened with Belphie sometimes, so lots of comfort cuddles

»»————-　♔　————-««

Leviathan

➼ “Levi, did you sleep at all last night?”

➼ Obviously not

➼ He was up all night binge watching the latest season of “The Magical Ruri Hanai: Demo Girl”’s  spin-off series

➼ Why would you even ask?

➼ “Levi, did you stay up all night?”

➼ He looked away, a little embarrassed. “Uh, yeah.”

➼ “Levi, honey. You need to sleep. It’s not good for your health to be staying up so late.”

➼ Leviathan.exe has stopped working

➼ You’re worrying about him?????

➼ And you’re calling him honey?????

➼ Are you trying to kill him?????

➼ “You must be exhausted. Wanna take a nap?”

“Oh, uh. Yeah. I guess I could use a nap.”

“Alright. We should go to my room, since there’s more room on my bed than in your tub.”

➼ Wait you meant a nap together????

➼ You’re really trying to kill him.

➼ Usually, he’d make fun of you and call you a normie.

➼ But he was currently too busy dying.

➼ If somehow you managed to resurrect him and get him to your room to nap, then you’d know this shy boi is a little spoon.

➼ Does this really come as a surprise to anyone? It shouldn’t.

➼ He’s blushing like crazy the whole time.

➼ “Levi, if you can't sleep with me here, I can leave.”

“No!”

➼ He does sleep eventually.

➼ Sweet baby cuddles you in his sleep.

➼ Wholesome af

»»————-　♔　————-««

Satan

➼ As the most responsible one in the family, he has a pretty good sleep schedule, so he doesn’t normally take naps.

➼ However, if you ask him to, he’ll agree. 

➼ If it makes you happy he’ll do it <3

➼ He’s not really touchy-feely and won’t initiate any cuddling.

➼ Dude that you asked to nap because you were tired and wanted to sleep.

➼ Nah bro, you just want cuddles.

➼ While he won’t initiate any cuddles, if you make it more obvious that you want some, he’ll give them to you.

➼ Big spoon

➼ If you want him to be the small spoon, he will, but he’ll be flustered af.

»»————-　♔　————-««

Asmodeus

➼ “Asmo, wanna sleep together?”

➼ Could you have made a poorer word choice?

➼ No, you could not.

➼ This boy literally made the lenny face.

➼ “Asmo, I meant a nap.”

“Well, I suppose that’ll satisfy me for now.”

➼ You then proceeded to smack him with a pillow.

“Hey! Don’t mess up my hair!”

➼ You had to wait for him to take off his makeup and change his clothes and stuff.

➼ It’s a process.

➼ Cuddle’s tf out of you.

➼ He’ll be the big spoon or the little spoon. It doesn’t matter to him, so you can decide.

»»————-　♔　————-««

Beelzebub

➼ Takes naps with Belphie a lot and thought it was cute that you also wanted to nap.

➼ Pre-nap snack first, though.

➼ Then he’s ready.

➼ Sweet boi will enjoy the nap whether he’s a big spoon or little spoon.

➼ If you’re happy, he’s happy <3

➼ You kiss his face a lot.

➼ He thinks you’re the cutest little human ever when you do that.

➼ I’d say soft Beel, but when is he ever not soft?

➼ Not counting the custard incident

➼ He Likes to kiss the top of your head while you sleep.

➼ He definitely snores.

➼ It takes some getting used to, but you’re not gonna let keep you from cuddling your big boi.

➼ It honestly feels really safe and comforting to just be wrapped up in his arms.

➼ Equally comforting to have his head resting against you.

➼ Overall just really soft.

»»————-　♔　————-««

Belphegor

➼ You don’t even need to ask. He’s the king of naps.

➼ Being around Belphie for an extended period of time makes you sleepy.

➼ You’re not sure if it’s because he’s sleep or if it’s because he has some sort of sleep-power.

➼ Any time you cuddle you end up taking a nap.

➼ Do I even have to say it?

➼ S m a l l  s p o o n

➼ The smallest spoon.

➼ As the youngest, he’s the most spoiled, so he’s really really clingy and just expects you to drop whatever you’re doing at any given time to nap with him.

➼ I mean, you’d probably do it even if he didn’t expect you to.

➼ He does this adorable thing when he’s sleepy and he sees you nearby where he’ll go up to you and wrap his arms around you and rest his head against your shoulder and just say “Sleep, please.”

➼ You will stop whatever you’re doing no matter what and go up to the attic to nap with him.

➼ Not an exaggeration. It’s happened while Lucifer was talking to you before he he was p i s s e d.

➼ It was obviously intentional

➼ But how can you say no to his cute face?

➼ He seems to be able to keep you from having nightmares and you sleep 100x better with him than on your own

➼ Softest boi

»»————-　♔　————-««

Simeon

➼ While he may dress like a stripper, this man is an angel and is pure™

➼ Anything you want, you’ll get. How can he ever deny you a thing?

➼ He can’t.

➼ You want naps? You get naps.

➼ You want cuddles? You get cuddles.

➼ You want sleepy kisses? You get sleepy kisses.

➼ Hotel? Trivago.

➼ But seriously, sleepy kisses are definitely a thing.

➼ Especially forehead kisses.

➼ Big spoon. He likes to hold you.

➼ Sweet boy loves you so much 🥺

»»————-　♔　————-««

Luke (Platonically)

➼ Purgatory Hall has weekly movie nights, and they invite you over a lot to join them.

➼ You and Solomon have a very long list of human world movies you want Simeon to watch, but the poor man can’t figure out how Devilflix works for the life of him, so group movie nights are the only way.

➼ Not that any of you mind, of course.

➼ Luke begged Simeon to let him join you guys (he has a pretty strict bedtime)

➼ Simeon lets him occasionally if the movie is appropriate.

➼ Luke insisted on sitting next to you and sharing any treats he made that day.

➼ Poor baby ended up falling asleep not even halfway through the movie.

➼ Solomon obviously made fun of him.

➼ “Looks like it’s naptime for the little chihuahua.”

“Don’t tease him!” You say, defending Luke.

➼ At some point, Luke shifts so that he’s leaning against you in his sleep.

�� You coo at how cute the ‘lil cherub looks.

➼ Aaaand then you proceed to fall asleep as well.

➼ You woke up the next day still on the couch. You were pretty confused since Simeon usually carries anyone who falls asleep to their bed (or the guest room, in your case).

➼ Then you realize Luke still asleep and wrapped around you.

➼ HE IS THE MOST PRECIOUS BABY EVER

➼ You assumed Simeon didn’t want to attempt moving one of you and risk waking the other so he just left you too

➼ Whatever it was, you went back to sleep with the little cherub snuggling you

»»————-　♔　————-««

Solomon

➼ Purgatory Hall sleepover!

➼ Everyone had already fallen asleep, so you asked Solomon if he’d be alright with you two sleeping together.

➼ Not a good idea.

➼ You’re both settled in his bed and you’re about to drift off to sleep when this silly little sorcerer decided to tickle you.

➼ You  s h r e i k

➼ “Solomon!”

➼ “Keep your voice down, dear. You wouldn’t want Simeon hearing and getting the wrong idea, now. Would you?”

➼ The  s m a c c  you gave him though-

➼ “Can I sleep now, or are you gonna keep bothering me?”

“You know you love me.” He grinned.

“Well, duh. But I also love sleep.”

➼ He does let you sleep after that.

➼ You fall asleep first, and one look at your sleeping face and he falls in love with you all over again.

➼ You’re so  p r e c i o u s.

➼ He held you close to him as you slept, pressing soft, featherlight kisses against our forehead and nose, careful not to wake you.

➼ He’s a bitch until you fall asleep, pretty much.

»»————-　♔　————-««

Diavolo

➼ It wasn’t intentional for you to fall asleep, really.

➼ You’d had a long day, and you had been sitting with the demon prince at his palace as he told you about his day over a cup of tea.

➼ It wasn’t like what he was saying was boring.

➼ No, it’s just that you were so tired, and the sofa you were sitting on was so comfy, and Diavolo was talking so much.

➼ It didn’t help that the tea that Barbatos had prepared was especially soothing.

➼ You couldn’t help yourself. You dozed off.

➼ Diavolo continued talking, and probably would’ve gone on for a long while without even noticing if Barbatos hadn’t cleared his throat and gestured towards your sleeping form.

➼ If it had been anyone else, he would have deemed it disrespectful. 

➼ But it was you, and he had realized a long time ago that he was incapable of being upset with you.

➼ “It seems they’ve had a tiring day, my Lord. I suggest you let them rest.” Said Barbatos.

“Of course. I wouldn’t dream of disturbing them.” Carefully, he made his way over to you and pried the teacup from our hands so that you didn’t move and break it in your sleep.

➼ Then, he removed his suit jacket and draped it over you like a blanket.

➼ Not gonna lie, even Barbatos was a bit shooketh. 

➼ He didn’t say anything, though.

➼ Diavolo kissed your forehead lightly and had Barbatos bring him the last of his paperwork for the day, which he finished quickly while remaining by your side.

➼ After that he picked up our still sleeping form and brought you to his room where he tucked you in.

➼ He sent Lucifer a text saying that you would be staying the night at the palace then went to sleep after answering a few emails.

➼ He snores loudly, but you somehow managed to sleep through it.

»»————-　♔　————-««

Barbatos

➼ Diavolo set up another palace retreat (because I said so)

➼ You had been assigned a room with Luke and Beelzebub that time.

➼ It went good at first, and everyone was sent off to sleep at around 10 p.m.

➼ At some point in the middle of the night, you awoke from a particularly nasty nightmare.

➼ You were more scared than usual when you woke up, since the room you were in was not your room at the House of Lamentation.

➼ It took a while for you to realize where you were and calm down, but even then you were to afraid to sleep.

➼ Slowly, you exited the room, careful not to disturb Luke and Beel.

➼ You made your way to Barbatos’ room and knocked softly.

➼ Briefly, you wondered if he was asleep, but then he opened the door.

➼ You silently panicked when you realized your hair was a mess and your clothing was rumpled from sleep, but your disheveled appearance didn’t seem to faze him.

➼ “Hello. I was just about to prepare for bed. Is something the matter?”

➼ Suddenly, you felt very, very silly to come to such an ancient, powerful being for help with a little nightmare.

➼ “Sorry, it’s nothing. I apologize for bothering you. I’ll leave.” You said, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

“You never bother me, my dear. Would you like to come in?” He asked, opening the door wider and stepping aside.

“Yes. I would like that.”

“Is something bothering you?”

You blushed. “I had a nightmare. I couldn’t go back to sleep after that. I know, it’s silly.”

“Of course it isn’t.”

“Can I... Can I stay here with you tonight?”

“If it would make you feel better, you may.”

➼ Barbatos tucked you in then sat next to you, gently running his hands through your hair. He began singing an old song in some ancient, forgotten language. His voice was soft and soothing as he sang, and you found yourself unable to stay awake even if you tried.

➼ “Goodnight, my dear.” He whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

»»————-　♔　————-««

Thank you so much for reading!

Request a Fic/Headcanon || Obey Me Masterlist

[just-a-little-cellist]

Levi Ackerman - NSFW Alphabet

A/N: i'm bored so i'm just writing these nsfw headcanons for all my comfort characters, don't judge me. feel free to request - i posted request rules so go check it out :)

enjoy! nsfw under the cut :P

A - Aftercare (what are they like after sex)

The first time you have sex, Levi needs a lot of comfort. He'd never been that vulnerable with someone before and it took a lot for him to open up like that, so aftercare for him is the priority. Once sex becomes more frequent and he gets used to everything, he's the one to clean you both up but he still needs more emotional reassurance than he'll admit.

B - Body part (fav body part of themselves/their partner)

He isn't a vain person, so he'd probably say his arms just because of how much you love them. He wasn't too fussed at first but because of all the attention you give them he's started growing fonder of them.

His favourite part of you is your neck and collarbones. He didn't even realize he had a thing for that until he met you, and whenever you wear chokers he can't take his eyes off you.

C - Cum (where do they prefer to cum?)

Levi prefers to cum on your stomach, purely because it makes it easier to clean up. (He's always very mindful of any mess.)

D - Dirty secret (self-explanatory)

It obviously couldn't happen because of his status, but it sends a shiver of arousal through him whenever he imagines you humiliating him in public. It's something he wants to try in private, though he's nervous to talk about it with you.

E - Experience (how experienced are they?)

Levi is a virgin, since he doesn't have sex with people he doesn't genuinely, 100% trust. You'll have to guide him through everything at the beginning, however he's a quick learner and picks it up pretty fast.

F - Favourite position (goes without saying)

He likes missionary a lot because it lets him feel close to you, and he'll melt if you wrap your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist. He also gets shy sometimes, so this position is perfect to hide his face in your neck.

G - Goofy (are they goofy or serious in the moment?)

Other than the odd sarcastic comment, he's generally serious. If he's in a vulnerable position then joking around doesn't calm his nerves at all.

H - Hair (opinions on grooming etc.)

Levi keeps his own hair neatly trimmed. He'd prefer if you keep yours vaguely under control but, as long as it's clean, it's up to you how you keep it.

I - Intimacy (how intimate are they during sex?)

It takes him a while to fully open up to you, but sex becomes one of the most intimate moments you ever share with Levi where he truly breaks down all his walls for you, just the two of you.

J - Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He doesn't tend to masturbate unless he's really desperate. Something about it just makes him uncomfortable, but he also has urges sometimes when you aren't available.

K - Kinks (again, pretty self-explanatory)

When you first started sleeping together, Levi had more of the control because he thought that was the way it was 'supposed' to be. However once you brought up the idea of him being submissive, your dynamic shifted. He was extremely hesitant at the beginning because he wasn't used to being in such a powerless position, though as soon as you managed to get him into a submissive headspace it became a regular occurrence.

Levi is a sub at heart who needs a soft dom more than anything. Some of the kinks you've explored that he likes are bondage, light impact play, praise, orgasm denial and marking (as long as the marks are hidden during the day.)

He also definitely has a bit of a humiliation kink but he's still working up the courage to tell you.

L - Location (favourite place to do the deed)

His favourite place is a tie between the shower and his desk. Sometimes when he's had a long day and doesn't want a full scene, he likes to have sex in the shower (also it makes clean-up easier). Although if he feels like subbing, as long as the door is locked, one of his favourite things is for you to cockwarm him while he's trying to work.

M - Motivation (what gets them going)

Showing skin is a sure-fire way to get him riled up. I personally headcanon Levi as demisexual, so he doesn't care when other people show skin, but if it's you? All you have to do is leave a couple buttons undone, expose your chest a little, and he is done for. Also, slipping casual praise into conversations will sometimes start pushing him into a submissive headspace, especially if you've done a lot of scenes with him recently because he starts responding to that tone of voice.

N - No (something they'd never do)

He doesn't like intense pain play - he's had enough pain the rest of his life so he needs you to be gentle with him. He also wouldn't want a harsh or strict dom, preferring to have you take care of him instead.

O - Oral (preference in giving, receiving etc.)

He enjoys both equally. Before you'd had sex you wanted to ease him into the experience carefully, so you gave him his first blowjob and he almost sobbed from the stimulation. Buuuuuuut alongside that he would also happily spend hours between yours legs - the praise you give him as he pleasures you and the feeling of you clenching around his tongue is almost enough to make him finish without any physical touch.

P - Pace (are they fast, slow, quick, rough?)

If it's just against the wall in the shower then it tends to be a bit faster, and on the odd occasion Levi feels more dominant he can get rougher, but he is usually perfectly content to let you decide the pace entirely.

Q - Quickie (opinion on quickies)

They're good sometimes, especially when you're both very busy with other duties. They're good to relieve basic urges, but Levi would never choose them over a full scene.

R - Risk (how open are they to risk?)

Levi is open to a bit of experimentation, but never anything exhibitionist. He can't risk the possibility of someone catching him in a compromising position, considering his importance in the military, so he insists that you keep all bedroom activities private.

S - Stamina (how long can they go for?)

As expected, at the start Levi had pretty low stamina since it was all so new and overwhelming. It gotten a little better since then but he also has a fairly quick recovery time to make up for it.

T - Toys (opinion on using toys etc.)

He doesn't particularly enjoy using toys on you, but adores when you use toys on him.

U - Unfair (how much do they like to tease?)

He'll only tease you a little when he's in a dominant mood and you've been doing something to piss him off, but the rest of the time it's not something he does at all. (He kind of likes when you tease him though.)

V - Volume (are they loud or quiet?)

Levi is cautious to control his volume so that other people don't hear, but his whimpers of pleasure can get quite loud sometimes.

W - Wild card (random headcanon)

During a scene once, while he was deep into subspace, he accidently called you mommy. When he realized what he said he was mortified, and almost started dropping. You had to quickly assure him that it was perfectly alright, that you weren't upset with him, and that you don't mind it if he wants to keep calling you that. He only uses that name for you when he's really, really submissive, and it's adorable hearing the tiny whimpers of "P-please mommy..."

X - X-ray (what's going on... down there?)

So many people seem to think that this man has a monster cock. He is 5'3 there is no way. He's a little smaller than average, in length and girth, but that just means you can hear him whine when you take his whole length into your mouth.

Y - Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

His sex drive is low most of the time. He has so many other things he has to focus on everyday, so sex doesn't cross his mind that much. Sex is more of a stress relief that he doesn't think too much about until it happens.

Z - Zzzzz... (how quickly do they fall asleep after?)

Being an insomniac, Levi takes a while to settle down to sleep, although it's always a little easier when he's comfortably next to you. (definitely the little spoon)

[nervouscupcakeinspace]

BTS FIC RECS (PART 2)

Jeon Jungkook/Jung Hoseok | J-Hope

Don't Get Charmed by shikiso

When an injured omega is found on their territory, Jungkook's instincts scream danger. He is the pack's omega, they don't need another one. Jungkook is doing a good enough job by himself, protecting the den and soothing the tension off everybody's shoulders.

Why is the pack so adamant on keeping that useless omega in ?

They have Jungkook, they don't need Hoseok.

Why can't they even see his little game ? Hoseok definitely knows how to play the scared and helpless omega. But, if he manages to trick everybody, he can't trick Jungkook. He is immune to his sweet scent and sweeter eyes.

He won't fall into his trap.

Jeon Jungkook/Park Jimin

Omega Drip by sugamongoose

Park Jimin is the kind of alpha who makes you coffee and asks about your day before reducing his partner to a crying, writhing mess on his organic cotton sheets. He doesn't even seem to care one bit that Jungkook is a broken omega who doesn't get wet when he's supposed to.

“Are you busy right now, alpha?” Jungkook asks, holding his breath in anticipation. He can already visualise getting on his knees for the smaller man, can imagine those soft-looking hands petting his hair in approval when he shows just how good his mouth is.

Jeon Jungkook/Kim Namjoon | RM

Every Kind of Way by Oh_Hey_Tae

And then he realizes, quite belatedly, that he’s not supposed to be shaking the hand of the barista. Because that’s weird. And uncalled for. And really, really weird.

So Jungkook draws back his arm, grips the straps of his backpack, and promptly flees the building without a word spoken. Which is fine. Sometimes you have to get out of awkward social situations and blacklist particular cafés and adjust your route to school to avoid said café and the barista with the heart shaped face and his sweet pea scented hands. It happens.

“Jungkook-ah, meet Kim Namjoon.”

And sometimes during your bi-weekly dinner one of your good friends introduces you to said barista with the terribly soft hands who also happens to be getting his masters in social work to help underprivileged youth in inner city neighborhoods. Which is fine. This is fine. Jungkook is doing just fine.

 (Or: Jungkook adores everything about Namjoon except that the man can't catch a clue.)

Here Is What I Know by Oh_Hey_Tae

There are flowers growing on Namjoon’s arm. They aren’t real flowers, of course. That would be absurd. Impossible. Ridiculous. But Namjoon spends most of his lecture on Kant watching the garden of ink bloom on his skin, beginning at his pinkie and spreading across his wrist, trickling down to his elbow, curling up and around his bicep and out of sight under the sleeve of his shirt. Irises and peonies and roses and sunflowers. The girl who’s sitting beside him is staring, and when caught, gives Namjoon a bright-eyed grin before glancing back to the board. Namjoon spots a faded smiley face inked into the skin of her thumb, what looks to be a grocery list scrawled over the back of her hand. Notes or reminders from her soulmate maybe. Soulmates. Huh. It looks like Namjoon has one of those now.

try to resist, i still want it all by exarite

At first, Namjoon doesn’t think much of him.

He looks familiar, but he’s too far away for Namjoon to really see or scent out his dynamic. He’s cute, but Namjoon's not new to cute boys either. He's far too used to handsome, and pretty, and everything in between in the industry.

But then he stands up. Namjoon's eyes catch on the swell of his belly, and every nerve in his body lights up, his mind going blank, and—

Oh, he breathes. He's pregnant.

::

Namjoon fucks a pregnant Jungkook.

just let me adore you by elle_O_moonchild *

Rockstar omega Jungkook has never let an alpha tie him down. He was independent, and happy, and had no need for a domineering knothead to mess up his career and lifestyle.

But powerful and wealthy alpha Namjoon only wants to spoil the pretty omega rotten.

or

A smitten alpha Namjoon gets a weary omega Jungkook to go on a date with him and shows him just how good they can be together…

Jeon Jungkook/Kim Seokjin | Jin

more and more and more by moonsuns

"If you haven’t had sex by the time you’re twenty, then I’ll have sex with you. That way you’ll have a guaranteed end date for your virginity.”

“Do you promise, hyung?”

"I promise."

The problem was, Seokjin never expected to be called on it.

you shouldn't give it to me (good like that) by jamaisvore

opposites in the eyes of the media, but a perfect match in each other's arms.

or: supermodel!jk x rockstar!jin

Jung Hoseok | J-Hope/Kim Namjoon | RM

Pull Me Under by Oh_Hey_Tae

It’s been two weeks. Hoseok has managed to survive two weeks of Kim Namjoon’s progressively darkening thighs and his cheek craters and his swooshy hair and that stupid laugh he does that makes him sound like a bleating sheep.

Yoongi looks over his shoulder. Stares. Slowly draws his gaze back to Hoseok. “Are we discussing the same man who tried to brush his teeth with sunscreen yesterday?”

“Ew, he did that?”

“Your voice says that’s disgusting but your face says you’re enamored.”

Hoseok presses his palms against his eyes until he sees colored spots. “Make it stop, hyung.”

  (Or: Hoseok works at a summer resort and Namjoon is the newest lifeguard. Chaos ensues.)

fall underneath by crycoby

“Is this secretly about your huge crush on Namjoon?” Jimin asks, his fingers digging into the back of Hoseok’s neck in a way that is frankly criminal. “You know that if you like him, you’re going to have to be more direct. He doesn’t like to assume things about people and… He overthinks a lot,” he finally settles on diplomatically.

Hoseok groans, half because of the pressure and half because the idea of talking about this, about any of this, about any of the gnarled mess that is the clutch of Hoseok’s emotions in the knot of his chest, gives him hives.

//

hoseok could talk about his big messy feelings about namjoon, or he could talk around them instead and just hope for the best. yeah. that sounds good.

Methods of Mutual Stress Relief by Only_A_Fangirl

Hoseok cringes, “How weird would it be if I actually asked to jerk off in here with you?”

“Very,” Namjoon answers instantly.

Hoseok nods, “You can choose the porn.”

Namjoon blinks, “Are you for real?”

lyre lyre lyre by oliviacirce

Namjoo regrets every life choice that has led her here, to the hard wooden floor of this dance studio, where she's lying on her back like a beached whale.

Jung Hoseok | J-Hope/Kim Taehyung | V

the long and winding road by moonsuns

Hoseok is (basically) forced to go on vacation and leave his stressful idol life behind, at least for a little while. He wasn't expecting to find Taehyung, that's for sure. (He's glad he did, though.)

Kim Namjoon | RM/Kim Seokjin | Jin

Procurement by FlyYouFools1 (WIP) *

Seokjin and Namjoon have waited decades for a little of their own. Taehyung just wants to pay for his little brother's education.

Kim Namjoon | RM/Kim Taehyung | V

Dandelion Love (part of the (Not) Destined series) by almostsophie1

Taehyung is twenty-one when the word on his wrist turns ashen. The kind of love that soulmates share is forever out of reach.

(But enter one Kim Namjoon, who doesn't think the same.)

Kim Namjoon | RM/Min Yoongi | Suga

Bleeding Love by beebalm

Yoongi was already dressed and halfway to the door, nothing but a dry chuckle and a See you around when Namjoon asked for his number.

OR

It's not that Namjoon is hurt Yoongi only ever wanted him for a one night stand. And he doesn't have a crush. He just wishes they didn't have to keep seeing each other all the time.

Kim Namjoon | RM/Park Jimin

but i want it anyway by ameliabedelias *

Park Jimin’s roommate goes to study abroad for a semester. Kim Namjoon takes over the lease.

only lingering around you by moonsuns 

“I don't. I mean...this is going to sound awkward, but I’m...not really looking for a relationship right now.”

Namjoon considers, for a moment, elaborating and telling Jimin about everything with Hoseok, but there wouldn't be any point in that. And also, Namjoon is pretty sure that Jimin doesn't care about any of that anyway.

And he's right. At this, Jimin outright laughs. It isn’t a mean laugh, but Namjoon is pierced by the sound anyway. “Who said anything about a relationship, or even feelings? It’s just sex.”

Or, Namjoon and Jimin are friends with benefits.

Kim Seokjin | Jin/Min Yoongi | Suga

운명 (Fate) (part of the (Not) Destined series) by almostsophie1

Yoongi is part of that three percent population left without a soulmate word. It doesn't matter if he falls in love, because love isn't meant for people like him.

(Then he meets Seokjin.)

candy on my lips (part of the just desserts series) by moonbabie

Anonymous advice columnist and baby bi Kim Sujin meets queer club president Min Yoonji, and does the following: writes some cheesy advice columns, cuts her hair, and figures out her shit. (aka a queer romcom meets emotional constipation, self-discovery, and clueless wlw)

Min Yoongi | Suga/Park Jimin

pull me closer in the backseat of your rover by moonsuns

Jimin had just wanted to get off. He didn't think he'd end up with a boyfriend at the end of it all.

Or, another friends with benefits AU.

Nip & Bloom by sugamongoose (WIP) *

The year is 2021, and yet traditional and oppressive views of alpha/omega relations run rampant in the Korean society. Unmated Park Jimin is placed in a government programme which pairs delinquent omegas with support mates to make them more comfortable in their submission. Jimin’s alpha for six months turns out to be Min Yoongi, a tiny music producer who wears fuzzy sweaters, and who won’t stop talking about his kitten Holly.

“You look like an omega,” Jimin blurts out. The strange alpha flashes him a smile that reveals the pink of his gums. “Is that something you prefer? I saw your file, and it said you identify as queer.” “Oh, you looked at my file just to see if I like to fuck other omegas? Knot swelling yet?”

POLY RELATIONSHIPS

OT7 - Relationship

indiscentsible by cloudyworld *

Jungkook had been a little disappointed when, after all the build-up and speculation, he'd presented as a beta. Betas are great! They play an important role in society: level-headed, big-picture thinkers, the solid foundation that holds everyone together. But that pull of instinct that comes with being an alpha or omega, the feeling of belonging... He was crushed at the thought he might never get to have that.

In a pack with three alphas and three omegas already, presenting beta was a gift; Jungkook learns to see that too.

Precious Mettle by glitterandgilt (WIP) *

Jin loved his nest. He'd built it very carefully from the ground up. Spent centuries on selecting the individuals he wanted to spend the rest of his immortal life with. He was proud of his nest and protected it with a possessive love that rivaled a dragon's guard on their trove.

Jin didn't get the chance to go through that evaluation process with his newest treasure. But he would never let it go.

Or

When Jin's blood is stolen and used to sire a new fledgling, Jin has two choices: to ignore the strands of magic binding him to his new childe, or to lay claim to another jewel for his collection. He chooses the latter and drags his entire nest into a situation none of them were anticipating.

Kim's Seven by Gobi17 (WIP) *

Jungkook, 17 year old YouTuber, is in awe of the 6 hot boys who have adopted him online.

Bangtan are a dangerous group of vigilantes who seize the opportunity to kidnap the stepson of their latest target.

Found Kin by Adaptive_Artist (WIP)

Jungkook is starving. Food doesn't make anything better, and his teeth ache like someone is hammering on them. He thought he was cursed. Turns out he's a hatchling kin, and is now the precious baby of the renowned Kim nest. He's also growing little fangs.

Huh.

love bites (series) by feraljk (WIP) 

Summary from the first fic:

newly-turned vampire jungkook still has a lot to learn, but his hyungs are there to help him. taehyung enlists yoongi and jin to teach the fledgling how to teethe and helps him discover how much of a bonding activity teething can be.

or: trans koo and tae teeth on their hyungs and also come

Isn't it lovely? (all alone) by hopefully2020

At age eighteen, all citizens are given a concentration that will determine their fields of study. A small empty square on their wrist will gain a color corresponding to their skill set. Everyone’s fear is that their square color is black, meaning they are destined for a life of crime. When Jungkook turns eighteen, he waits anxiously for his square to gain color, only to be presented with a blank square. He is shunned by his family, having to struggle through high school while trying to figure out what to do for the rest of his life. Jungkook's life gets flipped upside down on the day of his twenty-first birthday when the store he works at is robbed with Jungkook at the cash register. Fearing for his life he believes he is going to die, only to be saved by a figure in black with a mask covering his face. To make things even worse, Jungkook suddenly becomes the target of one of the largest drug syndicates, solely because of his new connection to his savior and five other men who turn out to be the biggest crime lords in Seoul. What happens then, you ask? Well, then the blank world Jungkook always saw starts to drip with black, just a little bit.

blueberry peaches (a serendipitous summer) by elle_O_moonchild (WIP)

Jungkook spends a life changing summer working at a beachside car wash and meets 6 new lovers who change his heart and life forever.

Jeon Jungkook/Jung Hoseok | J-Hope/Kim Namjoon | RM 

Falling For an Alien From Amalthea 5 by Pyotr_Keats78 (WIP)

Jungkook has been in and out of the hospital for years with various medical problems. Eventually, his heart becomes so weak that no human medicine can save him. Believing he will die never having come out as trans to anyone, he gives up. That is until his brother Jimin tells him, “You have two choices, Jungah: you can stay here in this hospital and get high every day until your heart fails you, or you can go to Amalthea, grow a parasite, and live.”

Jeon Jungkook/Kim Taehyung | V/Park Jimin

Mentoring on Marsa by FlyYouFools1

Jungkook comes to the planet Marsa after being promised a full scholarship to Marsa National University. When the scholarship falls through, his academic advisor gives him the number for a mentoring service for newly stranded omegas on Marsa. With rent due, no way home, and no success in finding a job, Jungkook calls the number. The organization sends him Min Yoongi, a fellow omega who's been living on Marsa for 8 years. Yoongi teaches him how to survive. Jungkook's first attempt at survival is alpha couple Jimin and Taehyung.

Features: Yoongi doing his best to teach Jungkook how to manage handsy alphas, handsy alphas (like all of them are touchy) taking liberties with omega protagonists, and my best attempt at writing problematic but entertaining sex. A lot of fluff too, actually. The alphas are fluffy as hell with the omegas, and pamper them a lot, even though their actual behavior is wrong.

Jeon Jungkook/Kim Taehyung | V/Min Yoongi | Suga

November (series) by cuttothequickk 

Summary from the first fic: 

Sometimes, Jeongguk gets so lonely he doesn't even feel alone anymore. He's practicing, and he's very good at it. Loneliness. Being alone. It's blustery cold, and the leaves are falling from the branches of trembling trees, and Jeongguk is alone in a big city, shivering without a jacket, trying desperately to keep himself warm.

There is no one, and then there is someone. Two someones. The lovely winter boys from Daegu, Taehyung and Yoongi, opposites and equals, so loving and in love.

It would be ridiculous, really, if Jeongguk didn't fall for them, too.

Jung Hoseok | J-Hope/Kim Namjoon | RM/Min Yoongi | Suga

how, or when, or from where by moonsuns

“Stop calling it my quest,” Namjoon whines, and Hoseok laughs.

“You’re the one that said it first.”

“I was drunk.”

“Well, the bad thing about going out with people, is that you can’t take back the stupid shit you said when you were drunk. Especially when they’re way less drunk than you.”

Or, after Namjoon almost dies, he decides to go on a quest to live his best life, and takes Yoongi and Hoseok along for the ride.

(* Personal favorites)

MASTERPOST FIC RECS PART 1

[bopbopstyles]

BEHIND THE BAR

RATING: R/smut (sex, heavy alcohol use, lots of cursing, heavy banter)

WORD COUNT: 17.3k (she long and you may need to read on desktop)

CATEGORIES: bartender!y/n, fratboy!harry

MASTERLIST | INSPO TAG | Y/N’S LINGERIE | TELL ME YOUR FAVORITE BITS OF BANTER | BLURB MASTERLIST | DRABBLE TAG

a/n: the long awaited bartender!y/n fic has ARRIVED! thank you to my fabulous anons who dreamt up bartender!y/n and made me fall so in love with her and fratboy!harry’s dynamic that i had to write her. she is tattooed, sassy, and full of spunk and i ADORE her. if you need more of her and harry, check out the inspo tag which has all the discourse. concepts for these two are ALWAYS open. s/o to @harrystylescherry, @stellarboystyles, @harrysclementines​, @havethetimeofyourstyles​ for beta reading and @bfharry​ for providing harry’s dad joke 😘

“Cheers, Birthday Princess,” you told him, and then you bumped your glass against his, before tipping it back. Harry slammed the glass down on the counter and shook his head as the alcohol coursed through his veins.

Then, he leaned forward on the bar, resting his elbows on the alcohol-covered surface. You tried to keep it clean, but there was no way to keep up with it all. “How about a birthday kiss, Madam Bartender?”

“In your dreams,” you answered, realizing what you had said only after the words left your mouth.

Harry smirked, a dimple poking out. “We’ve already talked about dreams, Y/N. You know you’re already in them, so no need to beg for it.”

or

Y/N is a bartender and Harry’s obsessed with her

pls reblog and share with your friends 💕

In hindsight, perhaps taking a job as a bartender at the campus bar as a freshman wasn’t your smartest idea. You had to spend most of your weekend nights behind the bar trying to hear orders from slurring frat boys ordering the cheapest beer on tap and got shit tips because apparently your classmates didn’t care about tipping their bartenders. But at the same time, it was a great way to always drink for free and make friends, both with the other bartenders and with students who frequented the bar, as well as the neighborhood regulars earlier in the evening.

The thing you loved most about it, though, was the power you held behind the bar. It was your space, space where you made the rules and could throw out any person who messed with you. Which, as a stunningly gorgeous 21-year-old girl serving alcohol at a popular bar, happened plenty. You and Mike, the bouncer who usually shared shifts with you, had a hand signal that you could give him whenever someone was causing problems, and he would happily come to the bar and throw out whatever obnoxious man was giving you trouble. You frequently considered that Mike actually enjoyed throwing people out of the bar.

It was a Saturday night, the busiest night of the week and nearing one AM. The bar was packed, bodies pushing past one another to get to the bar, girls drumming their fingers on the fake wood counter. Tendrils of your long black hair stuck to the back of your neck, the result of constantly being on the move from the moment the rush hit until the bar closed. A cropped black tank top stuck to your skin, the sliver of skin between the hem of the shirt and the top of your black skinny jeans not enough to keep your body cool. Your ponytail swung back and forth as you moved, winding around Matt, the other bartender tonight, with ease. The two of you usually shared shifts, both being students and having the same availability. Generally, he was a good guy, taking the drunk guys so you didn’t have to deal with them and always making sure people didn’t give you trouble. The one downside to Matt, though, was his frat brothers. They appeared every shift without fail, bringing with them chaos and an inordinate amount of drink orders. They loved to annoy you, asking you the contents of every fancy drink they could think of and asking about your love life.

Tonight, it seemed, was no different.

You noticed the minute they entered the bar, a collection of t-shirts, a couple of jerseys you despised, and a button down shirt or two, all of them talking and yelling at each other. “Matt, your fan club is here!” You called down the bar, and Matt laughed as he grabbed the vodka off the wall to make a drink for two girls that were staring at him with wide eyes.

You grabbed two shot glasses and the handle of tequila from where you’d left it below the bar. “Salt and limes?” You asked the girls who had ordered the shots. They were most definitely not twenty-one, but then again, serving underage college students was how the bar made any business. The girls nodded, and so after you had poured the shots, you grabbed the salt shaker and two cut limes, pressing the limes into the rim of the glasses and pushing all the items across the bar. One of the girls handed you her card and you heard the words “Keep it open!” over Taste by Tyga and Offset that was blaring in the bar. It was your playlist, one that you’d perfectly curated for the bar with input from the other bartenders, and you were pretty proud of it.

After swiping the girl’s card and adding it to the stack of open tabs, you whirled back around to take the next customer. The sight of his brown curly mop and gleaming green eyes made you sigh—it was Harry. He, frankly, was a bit obsessed with you, but he was Matt’s little so you let it slide. Also, Harry’s attention didn’t make your skin crawl, instead it made your belly clench and witty comebacks fall easily from your mouth. The two of you had settled into a consistently flirtatious banter and you didn’t mind it, frankly. Sometimes, it was the highlight of your night.

The first time you ever met Harry, you noticed him long before he finally spoke to you. He was sitting at a booth not too long after your shift started, so it wasn’t super busy yet. He had caught your eye because he wouldn’t stop staring at you and he had a weird bandana wrapped up in his hair. (Or was it even a bandana? Maybe a scarf? You couldn’t be sure.) It wasn’t the creepy kind of stare that made you call the bouncer over, but the kind that made you blush against your every attempt not to. When Matt came in, a bit late as usual, Harry beelined to the bar, sitting down in front of him.

“Y/N, this is Harry,” Matt had said, grabbing the bottle of Jack from the wall and pouring some in a glass, then adding Coke to it before pushing the glass towards Harry. “He’s my little.”

You leaned onto the bar, the surface still dry since it wasn’t packed yet. “I was waiting for you to say hi. Saw you staring for the past fifteen minutes.”

The blush that rose to Harry’s cheeks made you smile at him, and Matt chuckled. “Staring isn’t nice, H.”

“Wasn’t staring,” Harry mumbled. “Just watching you make drinks.”

Your eyebrows lifted. “Have you never seen a bartender before?”

“No, fuck,” he said to himself and you internally grinned at making him a bit embarrassed. He was easy to mess with, especially now that you had confirmed that he had, in fact, been watching you. “You’re just good at it.”

You looked to Matt. “He thinks I make good drinks,” you informed your co-worker. “What do you think, Harry? Am I better than your big?”

Harry could tell he had dug himself into a hole, his eyes sweeping between you and Matt. “I—I don’t know—maybe?” Matt’s eyes widened and Harry stumbled over his words, trying to correct course. “No, no, Matt’s better. Matt is definitely better.”

You leaned forward a bit more, inching closer to Harry. “Thought you said I was good at it?”

You could feel his eyes drift to where your cleavage was exposed from the deep-v of your black t-shirt. “You are.”

“So which one of us is better?”

“You.”

Matt groaned and you moved away, a triumphant grin on your face. “Not fair,” Matt said. “Harry’s got a crush on you, of course he’d say you’re better!”

Harry choked on his drink and you raised your eyebrows at him. “A crush, huh?”

“Shit,” Matt said. “I wasn’t supposed to say that.”

You bumped your hip against his. “It’s ok, Matty boy. I figured that out when he wouldn’t stop staring at me.”

Harry blushed and you moved away, tending to the other customers at the bar.

That night had begun the back-and-forth between you and Harry, a playful dynamic of flirtation and jokes that usually left you triumphant and Harry blushing at the bar. He kept showing up early and Matt would tell you things like “Oh, he’s just coming by to drop off my charger” or “He just wants to chat.” All of them were excuses for Harry to be in the bar with just you, Matt, and a couple of customers, him having your relatively undivided attention. He’d tell you terrible jokes and ask you questions about your classes or family, most of which you ignored. You never asked him questions back, just let him talk and you listened, although you pretended like you didn’t, because you didn’t want to encourage him.

The truth was, though, you didn’t mind him. You kind of looked forward to those conversations. When he got really drunk he was a bit more annoying, repeating your name until you finally paid attention to him, only for him to say nothing except “You’re cute” or something along those lines. He entertained you, at least, and that was more than could be said for most of the patrons.

Tonight, it seemed, was no different than usual. “Y/N!” He said, shoving himself between two people who had managed to snag one of the green vinyl covered bar stools. His hair was messy, perhaps a bit sweaty, and he was swearing a black t-shirt, a silver chain tucked under his shirt. You could immediately tell he was decently drunk already, based on the glassy expression in his eyes and the grin on his face. “Want to hear a joke?”

You wiped off the bar with the towel over your shoulder before answering him. “Sure.”

“What did the therapist say when a naked man wrapped in cling film went into their office?”

“I don’t know,” you answered, resting your hands on the bar and looking at him dead on. “What did they say?”

Harry was grinning at you, eyes twinkling with mischief. “Clearly I can see your nuts.”

You groaned and Harry just guffawed. “Harry, that was horrible.”

“You just have no sense of humor.”

“Says the guy making jokes like that,” you shot back. “Now, what do you want?”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a black leather wallet. “Five fireball shots.”

You had to take a second before replying because the thought of a fireball shot makes you want to vomit. The combination of the cinnamon flavor and the burn it sent down your throat was one you hated, but it seemed Harry enjoyed it. “Really, Harry? Fireball?”

“What? It’s good!”

You shook your head, but grabbed shot glasses, laying them out in a line on the bar. “You’re insane.” You turned, grabbed the bottle of Fireball, and then returned to him.

“Make it six,” he said, slashing you a smirk.

“If it’s for me I am not drinking it.”

“You’re no fun.”

“I’m plenty of fun,” you told him, cocking your hip. “And I have good taste in alcohol.”

“Y/N, please,” he begged, pouting slightly for you.

Sometimes he was such a child, you thought as you gave in, grabbing another shot glass. “Fine,” you told him. “But this is the only time.” He grinned at you, and you just poured the shots, drawing a line down the glasses with the alcohol.

He snagged one of the shot glasses and you took one at the end. “Cheers,” he said, lifting his shot, and you did the same, knocking the glasses together enough for a clink to ring out.

You tipped the shot back, letting the burn of the cinnamon whiskey fall down your throat. You swallowed, dropped the shot glass to the counter, and looked to Harry. He was grinning, his empty shot glass on the bar. “Satisfied?”

“Very.” Then he picked up the shots, holding them together in his two massive hands, his rings clinking against the glass. You watched him walk away, his shirt disappearing into the throng of people, and then your attention was caught by another patron, asking you for a Long Island iced tea that made you laugh once you had turned away from them.

The night passed with many empty bottles of vodka and gin, the drinks of choice for all the girls who came up to the bar, and you nearly ran out of Budweiser, since it was on tap and the cheapest beer. You were bopping your head along with your playlist, Piece Of Your Heart by MEDUZA ringing through the speakers. The electronic music was supposed to help keep your energy up, but it was three AM and you were beginning to tire, the whiskey and coke you made yourself doing little to keep you going.

People were starting to filter out of the bar, groups heading to get a late night snack or head home. You were thankful for it—if you could start cleaning before official close you would be happy, perhaps being able to get home sooner.

“Can I get another whiskey coke?” You turned and Harry was sitting in a barstool at the bar, right in front of you.

You nodded, grabbing a glass and the handle of whiskey. “Where’d all your friends go?”

“They left.” He drummed his fingers against the wood, the light of the bar catching on the silver of his rings. You were a bit fascinated by them, if you were being honest. Why he wore them, where they came from, what they meant. The same questions rang in your head in reference to the tattoos that littered his arms and peeked out from under his shirt.

“You didn’t go with?” You pushed his drink towards him and returned the jack to its spot on the wall.

He shook his head, taking a sip of the drink you made him. “I was going to wait for Matt.”

You raised your eyebrows and then nodded towards where Matt was leaning over the bar, talking to some girl whose drink had long since been emptied. “I think he’s already got someone waiting for him.”

Harry looked to where Matt was and then shrugged, before turning his gaze back to you. “Guess I’ll just hang out with you, then.”

“Oh really?” You took some empty glasses off the bar where people had left them and dropped them into the bucket under the bar to be taken back to get cleaned.

“You’re more interesting than him anyway.”

You laughed, grabbing an empty shot glass and putting it in the bucket. “And why is that?”

“You’re hot.” He didn’t even pause before he replied.

He licked across his bottom lip after he said it and you couldn’t help but watch the action. It wasn’t like you didn’t know Harry thought you were attractive—you did. It was just that he had never outright told you, or been quite this forward. Usually he was skating around the topic and now that he wasn’t you didn’t quite know what to say. So you said the first thing that popped into your head. “Have you been behind a bar?”

“Only at the house.”

“Your frat house does not count as a bar.”

“I don’t know about that.”

“It is not a bar, Harry.”

“Fine. Then no, I haven’t.”

You took a step away from him and waved your hand at the space. “Would you like to?”

This time, it was him raising his eyebrows at you. “What am I going to be doing?”

“I’ll teach you to make drinks.”

“I know how to make drinks,” he scoffed.

“Jungle juice doesn’t count.”

He huffed and then pushed away from the bar, standing to his full height. “You’re being mean,” he stated, but walked to the end of the bar and came around the side anyways. “It feels so different from back here.”

You turned, one hand on the bar and the other on your hip. “What do you mean?”

“Dunno. Feel…powerful, I guess.”

You nodded, knowing exactly what he meant. “So, Mr. Bartender, what do you want to make first?”

Harry considered his options, looking around the bar and taking in the options in front of him. He looked a bit overwhelmed, if you were honest. You glanced around, checking on how busy it was, and you were thankful that it was pretty much empty, so no one would probably be bothering you and Harry. “I’ve always wanted to make an Old Fashioned.”

“Can do,” you answered, grabbing the proper glass from the shelf, and a bottle of your favorite bourbon, setting both on the counter in front of you. “Do you know what’s in one?” He shook his head, a slight blush on his cheeks, and you smiled to yourself. He could be so goddamned cute sometimes. “It’s whiskey, bitters, and a bit of sugar. Do you know how to muddle?” He shook his head again, and you nodded, grabbing the rest of the supplies you would need.

You spread it out in front of you, popping a sugar cube in the old fashioned glass. “So this is the bitters we’re going to use,” you informed him, passing him the bottle of Angostura bitters. “Put two dashes of that in the glass over the sugar.”

“What the fuck is a ‘dash’?”

“A bit,” you told him. “Just do it.”

He did as you asked, tapping bitters into the glass. “Is that enough?”

You nodded, and then grabbed the soda gun and pressed the button for water, adding a bit to the glass. Then, you passed him the muddler, which got very little use at this bar. In fact, you hadn’t made an Old Fashioned in ages—it wasn’t exactly the drink of choice for most college-aged people. “Now, you’re going to muddle this—like mix them together, crushing the sugar.”

“Why does mixology have the weirdest terms?” He said under his breath and you snorted. He did as you said, listening to your instructions, crushing the sugar and mixing it with the bitters in the glass, the sugar dissolving in the glass.

“Good. Now you add the ice.”

You pulled back the top of the cooler that held the ice, and Harry grinned as he picked up some  with the scooper and filled the glass with it. “Always wanted to do that.”

“And now you have.” You shut the top of the cooler and passed him the bourbon and a jigger. “An ounce and a half of bourbon,” you informed him.

He reached over and took the bottle and jigger, and his close proximity made you inhale. You could smell cologne, a bit of sweat from the party he was at earlier, and a trace of smoke as he moved. The scent had your spine straightening, your mind just as muddled as the contents of the glass. How did he smell so good? He was a college boy. Who gave him the right to be so goddamned attractive and smell this delicious? His long hair, the length not quite reaching his shoulders but close, swung slightly in your face as he pulled away, the tips of his curls brushing against your cheek. He was so close that if he turned his head, your lips would meet.

You tried not to think about that.

But he lingered close to you as he poured the bourbon in the jigger, your sides nearly touching, just half a step away from one another. If the music hadn’t been playing, you probably would’ve been able to hear him breathe and he could’ve heard your breath hitch when his bicep flexed as he held the bourbon. Your eyes trailed over the tattoos on his arms, dancing over the ship and the rose at his elbow, all the way down to the anchor at his wrist.

“Now you’re the one watching me.”

Your eyes snapped up to his, where he was looking at you, smirking. “Pour the shot in, Harry.”

He looked back to the jigger he was holding, and tipped it into the glass, the amber liquid dropping through the glass. You handed him the stirrer and he twirled it in the glass, before setting it back down on the bar. The sound of his rings hitting the glass sounded in your ears as he grasped the drink, bringing it to his lips.

His eyes were on yours as he tipped it back slightly, letting the alcohol pass between his lips. You tried not to focus on his Adam’s apple bobbing as he sipped. When he lowered the glass, his tongue darted out, wetting his bottom lip, and it made you tug your own into your mouth softly. Then you asked, “How is it?”

With his gaze trained on your mouth, he answered, “Delicious.”

“Y/N!” Your head bounced up to see Mike darting his head inside. “Time for close.”

You looked up at the clock on the wall and realized he was right—more time had passed than you realized. “Shit—yeah, sorry Mike. Matt,” you called down the bar to your co-worker who was very caught up in his flirtation. “Will you kick all of these people out for me?”

“Even me?” Harry asked and you roll your eyes at him.

“You can stay,” you told him and he gave you a smile, taking another sip of his drink. “As long as you help me clean up.”

While Matt kicked the remaining stragglers out, making sure the ones that are too drunk get in an Uber, you and Harry cleaned up. He helped you flip chairs on top of tables and pick up the glasses littered across surfaces, even in the bathroom. You filled the bin with the glasses and took them into the kitchen, filling the industrial dishwasher to the brim. He even took a rag and wiped down the tables, singing along to the Tame Impala you’d turned on and finishing off his Old Fashioned. You put the bitters away and the remnants of the drink he had made, and toss some lime rinds into the trash, wiping off the last bit of the bar.

“I’m going to head out,” Matt called to you from the door. He’s got his arm wrapped around the girl’s shoulders, a wide smile on both of their faces. “You good, H?”

Harry nodded. “Yeah, I’m going to walk Y/N home.”

This was news to you. “I drove,” you replied.

“Then can I snag a ride?” He asked, and you shrugged. It wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. Also, the idea of making him walk didn’t sound like a good idea, even though the frat house wasn’t too far from the bar.

“Sure.” You grabbed your purse and leather jacket from where you’d stashed them under the bar, and pulled them on. “C’mon, let’s go.”

You waved goodbye to Mike, who was left to lock up, and walked around back to where your car was parked. It was a must have for you, not wanting to walk home at four in the morning after a long night of working. Plus, you never drank much while you worked—all you had had was that disgusting Fireball shot earlier in the night and a whiskey coke throughout the evening. Harry followed behind you, his hands in his pockets as he walked, the faint light from the street lamp illuminating the sidewalk leading to the parking lot.

“It’s dark,” he said when you turned into the lot.

You unlocked your car and turned to look at him. “It’s four AM. Of course it’s dark.”

He moved towards the car, pulling open the passenger side door. “No, I just mean that it’s dark for you to be walking to your car alone.”

“Oh.” You tossed your purse into the backseat and slid into the driver’s side, flipping on the ignition. “Matt or Mike walk me to my car most nights.”

His long legs ended up a bit cramped in the passenger seat of your car and it made the corner of your mouth turn up. “Good,” is all he said before pulling on the seatbelt and clicking it. You reversed out of the spot, your phone automatically connecting to the Bluetooth as you flipped on your turn signal. “That’s the wrong way.”

You turned and looked at him. “Don’t you live at the house?”

He shook his head though. “No, I’ve got an apartment with some brothers on the West side of campus. Take a left here.”

You absorb this information and switch the turn signal. “Why don’t you live there? I thought most people did.”

“I like the privacy, I guess. When you live with all your brothers, they tend to know every bit of your business.” He was looking out the front windshield and you did the same, eyes on the dark streets in front of you. Being this close to him in the car had your body temperature spiking a bit, although you wouldn’t have admitted that to anyone. Harry was just the boy who flirted with you every chance he got and was Matt’s little. He was just someone to entertain you on slow nights or when you were stressed. Right?

“Take a left at the light,” he said, breaking you out of your trance. You flicked on your turn signal and eased into the turn lane, swinging your car onto a side street. “I’m having a birthday party next weekend at the house if you want to come,” he suddenly said.

Your eyes bounced to Harry, who wasn’t looking at you, his palms resting on his knees. You could sense the tension in his body—was he nervous? Did you make him nervous? “Is it your 21st?”

He quirked a smile at that. “How’d you know?”

“Well, you’re a junior. I just assumed.” Matt also might’ve mentioned it once or twice, but you didn’t tell Harry that.

A blush crept across his cheeks. “I—uh—it’s on Saturday at nine. We’re hitting the bars after, but the thing at the house is just going to be brothers and drinks and some music. Pretty low-key, I think.”

“I’ve got work,” you told him. “But I’ll try and stop by before my shift. I’m not supposed to be there until ten.”

He nodded quickly and you tried not to think about the fact that Matt was never going to let you live this down. What were you even doing, saying yes to Harry? You weren’t even interested in him. He was just a boy to flirt with, someone who told you bad jokes and ordered Fireball shots. “It’s right up here,” he said, pointing to a house off to the right.

You slowed the car in front of a one-story bungalow, a couple of cars in the driveway and lawn chairs on the front lawn. “You live in a house?”

“Somehow it was actually cheaper,” he explained, unbuckling his seatbelt. “Plus, kind of nice not having people complaining about the noise.”

The area was definitely still on campus, but you didn’t know anyone who lived over here. “Are your neighbors all students too?”

He nodded. “Some other brothers have a place a couple houses down, there’s a house of Pi Phis over there. But yeah, it’s all students. On game days it’s a fucking mess.”

You put the car in park, and turned off the ignition. “I can imagine.” Harry didn’t make any moves to get out of the car, just sitting there staring at the dashboard of your old Toyota, his hands fidgeting on his thighs. “Harry?”

“Fuck,” he exhaled, catching his bottom lip in his teeth. “I...” Then he glanced over at you, and under the dim streetlamp you could see the expression in his eyes. It’s one you knew well. It’s the look he gave you when you wore your favorite lace bodysuit that was conservative enough to wear out, or when you gave him just as flirtatious of a comeback as the one he served you.

Then, all of a sudden he was moving towards you, his hand curving around the back of your neck and pulling you towards him. It was awkward, the seatbelt holding back your shoulder, but it didn’t stop you from leaning towards him, meeting him halfway. His lips tasted like bourbon and bitters, a trace of Fireball when you nibbled on his bottom lip that was just tucked between his teeth. He was sweet with an edge of fire, and when he tilted his chin slightly to change the angle, rotating his head just enough to kiss you deeper, you knew you were fucked.

For so long, you had been trying to keep him at a distance. Just let him exist as a flirtation, nothing more than that. You’d ignored the thoughts that blazed through your mind when you were drunk with your friends and saw him at a party, his lips on some girl, and you wondered what they would taste like on yours. Now that he was kissing you and you knew what they tasted like, there was no way you would be able to forget.

Especially the way his fingers threaded through your hair, his rings cool against your warm scalp. How he tugged on your lip with his teeth and you let out a soft whine, pulling him closer by the neck of his shirt. The fact that it was nearing four thirty in the morning and you were in your car making out, your seatbelt still on, didn’t seem to matter. The exhaustion that had been all-consuming earlier was gone, your body rushing with adrenaline from the feeling of his mouth tucked against yours, his hands on your skin and the way his lips searched for yours when you pulled away for air.

“I should go home,” you said, breathing heavily as you moved back into your seat.

Harry was looking at you intensely, his lips slick from your saliva, his cheeks flushed from kissing you. His hands still lingered on your neck and hip, and you weren’t ready for him to let go. However, you needed sleep, otherwise the rest of the day was not going to be pretty. You had a paper due on Tuesday you had to write and if that didn’t happen this afternoon after you slept you were fucked. “Yeah,” he finally answered, pulling away. “It’s late.” He shuffled in the seat, turning to push open the door. “Get home safe, okay?”

You nodded, and with one lingering look at you, Harry slid out of the car and shut the door behind him. Under the dim lights you watched him walk to his front door, pulling open the screen door and unlocking it. Once he was inside, you finally turned back on your car and put it in drive, peeling away from the curb without a glance back.

On Tuesday, you were knee-deep in edits for your paper when your phone screen lit up with a text. Despite the fact that you told yourself you would be ignoring any notifications that flashed across your screen, you were intrigued by this message because it was from a number you didn’t recognize. So you leaned back in the uncomfortable wooden chair you were sitting in (chosen to make sure you stayed awake) and grabbed your phone.

The sight of the message made you choke on air.

Hey, Y/N, this is Harry. Matt gave me your number, I hope that’s ok?

That was it. The whole message. What the fuck were you supposed to do with that? “Fuck,” you muttered to yourself, because now you couldn’t ignore it. You had your read receipts on, something you turned on one time when you were breaking up with an ex and wanted him to know that you were ignoring his messages on purpose, and never turned off. So now Harry knew you had read his message.

So you typed back, hey! what’s up?

The typing dots appeared and you had the sudden urge to throw your phone halfway across the room as you waited for his reply. But you didn’t, because Harry’s text popped through before you could take any actions to make it seem as though you weren’t staring at your phone waiting for his text.

Just wanted to say thanks for the ride home on Saturday. Then, in a separate message, Also, the invite for my birthday party still stands, but no pressure.

You nibbled on the edge of your thumb nail, your other thumb poised over the screen as you considered what to reply. You decided on coy. i'll see how it goes :) you wrote out, and then thumbs up reacted to his thank you text.

Looking forward to it is what he replied with, and that felt like the end of the conversation, so you locked your phone, turned it on Do Not Disturb, and tried to re-focus on the paper open on your computer screen.

It took everything in your body not to check your phone a couple more times, just to see if he’d kept the conversation going. You had no idea what to say to him—he was the one who texted you in the first place. It seemed like his job to keep the conversation going, not yours. So you let the conversation linger, not even saving his number in your phone.

When Saturday rolled around, you considered for a long time whether or not you were going to go to Harry’s birthday party. Matt had texted you too, combining the text with a notice that he wasn’t working that night and Lucy was covering his shift, which meant you were going to be doing all the heavy lifting. Lucy was a freshman, new to bartending, and most definitely was hired so she would be ready to replace you when you graduated next year. The fact that Matt texted you told you that Harry must really want you to come, even if it was just for a bit.

So you turned on your getting ready playlist and grabbed your favorite bodysuit—it was long sleeved and high necked with a mesh leopard print, meaning that when you wore your black bralette underneath it, it would show through. It was enough to get eyes on you (you could neither confirm nor deny if you specifically meant Harry’s eyes), but not too much that you felt completely exposed, thanks to the long sleeves. You grabbed your black jeans, even though in an ideal world you would’ve chosen your leather skirt instead, but the last thing you wanted was alcohol stuck to your legs all night or some asshole seeing up your skirt when you bent over for ice.

You kept your makeup simple, but in line with the outfit—a light smokey eye, eyeliner, and a tinge of a deep red to your lips. Rhea, your roommate, let you use her dry shampoo, so you sprayed it at your roots, giving your day-old hair some revival. With a pair of gold hoops and a pep talk, you were ready, your phone and wallet slipped into the pocket of your trusty leather jacket.

You had never been to a frat house when you couldn’t hear the music pounding from outside. But as you walked up the grassy front lawn to the KDR house, it seemed quiet—all the lights on, even. You rapped on the door twice, running your hand through your hair as you waited for the door to open. When it did, a guy was standing there who you were pretty sure you recognized from the bar—he was close with Matt and Harry, you thought.

“You’re the bartender, Y/N!” He said, pointing at you with his index finger, lifting it from the red solo cup he held in his hand.

“I am,” you replied. “Harry and Matt invited me.”

“Yeah, I know,” he said, and you tried not to read into that too much. “Come on in, I’m Caleb, Harry’s little.” And that, you realized, was why he was always hanging out with Harry and Matt. You followed Caleb down the hall, which had composite photos on the wall going back to the 70s and 80s. It was weird being inside the house with all the lights on, because you could actually see everything for the first time. You saw what was usually a coat room and discovered it was actually a study of sorts, bookshelves with textbooks and random course books lining the shelves and a couple of old leather chairs in the corner that you usually stashed your jacket on.

He turned into the long living room and kitchen, which was where most of the parties happened in their house, and you were met by a pong table and a collection of boys, many of whom you recognized from the bar. Your eyes scanned over the group, and you found that you were, unsurprisingly, one of four girls in attendance. The others were next to brothers, an arm slung around their shoulders. You found Matt and Harry easily in the crowd, Matt saying something to Harry with his palm pressed to Harry’s chest, his other hand gripping a can of Natty Light. How he could drink such watered down piss while being a bartender you didn’t know and you quickly decided you would be ragging on him for it the next time you worked together.

“Bartender girl!” One of the guys called out, and that made Harry and Matt’s heads immediately swivel towards where you were standing. The discomfort that had been lingering was suddenly there in full force. You hated being the center of attention, something most people never expected since you thrived at the bar. The key part of being a bartender, though, was you had the bar between you and the patrons. It was a safety net, something that gave you power and confidence. Without it, though, you felt naked in a situation like this.

The sight of a tiara on Harry’s head, though, immediately made you feel more at ease. The words Birthday Princess were printed on the tiara in bright pink writing, and the sight of it resting in Harry’s hair brought a smile to your face.

Matt immediately broke into a grin and widened his arms, which you rolled your eyes at. “Y/N! You made it!”

You walked over to him, having nothing else to do, but didn’t give him a hug. “Barely. I can’t stay long—I’m supposed to be there at 10 so Lucy doesn’t kill someone with her heavy handed pouring.”

He chuckled, and then gave Harry a clap on the back. “I’m going to go check on the beer. Have fun, H.”

It left you and Harry alone—or as alone as you could be in a crowded room. Your eyes roamed his body, the black silky shirt drawing in your eyes, white stitching that spelled out his last name on the chest, the way it was unbuttoned low. It was the first time you’d been able to see his tattoos—the edges of what seemed to be wings on his collarbones that you wanted to see the rest of, and a silver chain with a cross hanging on it lying on his chest. You could feel his eyes on you too, and steeled yourself under his gaze, trying to remain confident as you stood in front of him.

“Nice tiara,” you said, breaking the silence.

He blushed, reflexively reaching up to touch it. “I was hoping you didn’t notice.”

“It’s literally a bright pink tiara on your head, Harry, how could I not notice?”

“Matt and Caleb made me wear it. My other little, Tyler, bought it and insisted.”

“Can’t let the family down?” You said, the corners of his lips lifting.

“Guess not.” A silence fell between you again and you busied yourself by investigating the space you were in. The worn couches on the wall, a massive dining table with alcohol covering it, dishes in the sink and a stack of red solo cups on the counter. It seemed like exactly what you would expect from a fraternity house, even if there wasn’t a party going on. Finally, he cleared his throat and thickly asked you, “Want to play pong?”

You blinked, not expecting the question, but shrugged. “Sure.”

“I’ll drink any you don’t want to,” he said.

“Why? Think I’m not any good?”

“No—I just—you drove, right?” He was stumbling over his words and it made you give him a small smile. You decided to be a bit of a tease, and brushed your fingers over the stitches on his shirt, just to mess with his brain a bit.

“I did,” you answered. “But I don’t think I’ll be drinking too much.”

His eyes widened a tad and you watched as he swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing. “Let’s see your skills, then,” he finally said and you followed him over the table, where they were setting up for another round. He set down his cup on the side of the table and you fiddled with the cups, making the lines straighter. “Ready?” He asked you, his body shifting closer to yours. There was just a hair of space between your hips and you sucked in a breath before nodding.

You hadn’t thought this through, you quickly realized, because pong meant that there was barely any space between the two of you, and he kept brushing against your back and arm as he moved around. When he passed you the ball his fingers touched yours and your eyes would flit to his, only to find his green irises looking right back. The scent of his cologne and the alcohol on his breath wrapped around you when he laughed close to your ear, the contact of his skin on yours when he gave you a high five and lightly gripped your hand for just a beat too long sent shivers down your spine. When he picked up a cup to drink from it, you watched as his lips—the ones you had kissed exactly a week ago—wrapped around the rim and the beer slid down his throat. You were actively trying not to think about kissing down the column of his neck as you looked back to your cups on the other side of the table.

“Can I get gentlemen’s?” You asked and next to you, Harry nodded, agreeing with your decision to re-rack.  The guys playing you quickly reshuffled your cups and you dropped the beer-covered ball into a cup of water to your right. When you picked up the ball and rolled it between your fingers, you decided to tease Harry a bit more, because it was your favorite pastime. You offered the ball to him, clasped between your thumb and forefinger, and looked him dead in the eyes. “Blow on it for good luck?”

His eyes widened, but then a cocky grin drifted across his cheeks. He leaned in and blew softly on the white pong ball, his pupils dark and focused on yours. Then, at a volume only you could hear, he whispered, “Sure you don’t want me to blow something else?”

Rather than give him the satisfaction of knowing he had your pulse stuttering, you licked your lips and replied with, “Let’s see if you’re so cocky when I’m on my knees.” You turned back to the cups and with ease, you threw the ball as it sank into a cup. You peeked a glance up at Harry, only to find him already staring at you, blinking in rapid succession. “Your turn, Styles.” You grabbed the other ball and pressed it to the stitching on his chest and his lips quirked up, snatching the ball from your grasp.

“Kiss for good luck?” Your eyebrows lifted at his words and he was smiling at you, a cocky gaze fixed on you.

“In your dreams,” you answered with an eye roll.

“Oh, baby, you’re already in them,” he whispered as he tossed the ball. It hit the rim of your one remaining cup before falling in perfectly.

His words rang loudly in your ears as Harry raised his arms above his head in success, ignoring the words he just had said to you. You, however, couldn’t say the same. They were running through your head on a loop. He dreamt about you? You wanted to know more, wanted to know every bit of his dreams, what they looked like and what you did in them.

At the sound of your name you blinked, pushing yourself out of your daydreams. “Yeah?”

It was Harry, his palm resting on your lower back and burning the skin with his touch. “It’s almost ten.”

“Fuck,” you breathed out, pulling your phone from your jacket. “I—shit I have to go. Sorry.”

He shook his head. “S’fine. I’ll walk you to the door.”

You waved goodbye to your opponents and some of the other boys you had been introduced to. Harry’s hand left your body as you both walked, and you couldn’t help but be disappointed. “Happy Birthday, by the way,” you said as you turned into the hallway, the chatter of the boys over the music fading a bit.

Harry dug his hands into his pockets and smiled at you. “Thank you. And thanks for coming. It—it was nice, having you here.”

The softness in his tone was in direct conflict with the banter at the pong table, but you didn’t mind. You kind of liked that the two of you had this duality, the ability to go each direction. “I had fun.” You pulled your car keys out of your pocket and turned the knob on the door. “I’ll have a birthday Fireball shot waiting with your name on it, Birthday Princess.”

That made his smile turn into a grin, his dimples popping out as you stepped across the threshold and onto the front porch. “Looking forward to it, love.”

As you walked away, you tried not to let his term of endearment fill your every thought, but it was hard, especially when you looked back and he was standing in the doorway, watching you walk to your car. You exhaled and opened the driver’s side door, realizing that you had dug yourself into quite the mess with this boy.

You had been watching the door out of the corner of your eye all night, waiting for Harry and all of his friends to arrive. Lucy had noticed and pestered you about it, but you hadn’t given in. You didn’t feel like the entire bar staff knowing your personal business—Matt was plenty. You busied yourself by serving patrons, making an absurd number of vodka tonics (which you despised, but you had found freshman girls preferred them to gin, for some reason) and opening bottle after bottle of beer.

You were humming along to Broken Clocks by SZA when the door opened and your name was called over the bar, Matt’s voice booming in the space. “Y/N, I need a shot for the birthday boy!” Harry was standing next to him, Matt’s arm thrown over his shoulder, a grin on his face.

You turned and quickly queued In Da Club by 50 Cent, before grabbing the bottle of Fireball off the shelf. When you turned back to the bar, Harry was standing in front of you, the Birthday Princess tiara unfortunately absent. “Where’s your crown, Birthday Princess?” You asked, pouring the dark liquid into a shot glass for him.

“It’s a tiara, Y/N,” he corrected, snatching the shot. “And Caleb accidentally broke it.” You could tell by the twinkle in his eyes and the color in his cheeks that he was more than a few drinks in, no doubt doing shots with the rest of the party before hitting the bars.

“Good to know,” you answered, and just because he was so goddamned cute, you grabbed another shot glass and poured yourself a shot of Fireball.

“Takin’ a shot with me?”

“It’s your birthday, isn’t it?”

Harry was about to say something when the music changed and he let out a cheer, Matt and Caleb and another boy, who you assumed was Tyler, pounded on the bar on either side of him. Then, they began to sing and you could help but guffaw.

“Go, go, go, go go, go, go, shawty/It's your birthday/We gon' party like it's yo birthday/We gon' sip Bacardi like it's your birthday/And you know we don't give a fuck/It's not your birthday!” They sang, and you couldn’t help but join in at the end.

“Shots, shots, shots!” Matt cheered, and Harry lifted his shot glass, raising his eyebrow at you.

“Cheers, Birthday Princess,” you told him, and then you bumped your glass against his, before tipping it back. Harry slammed the glass down on the counter and shook his head as the alcohol coursed through his veins.

Then, he leaned forward on the bar, resting his elbows on the alcohol-covered surface. You tried to keep it clean, but there was no way to keep up with it all. “How about a birthday kiss, Madam Bartender?”

“In your dreams,” you answered, realizing what you had said only after the words left your mouth.

Harry smirked, a dimple poking out. “We’ve already talked about dreams, Y/N. You know you’re already in them, so no need to beg for it.”

You rolled your eyes at him and pushed lightly on his cheek, a pout settling onto his lips. “Shut up, Styles.”

“Meanie,” he said, moving back to rest normally against the bar. “You have to be nice to the birthday boy, didn’t you hear?”

“Not if he’s a prick,” you informed him, resting your hands on the lip of the bar and locking your elbows, leaning slightly forward. “Now, do you guys want anything else, or are you just going to annoy me all night?”

“Four whiskey cokes,” Matt told you. “And make ‘em strong.”

Throughout the night, their group achieved higher and higher levels of drunkenness. They started singing a Cheetah Girls song in their corner booth, much to your enjoyment, and Matt got on the table, something Mike only allowed because he was an employee, and made the entire bar sing Harry Birthday to Harry. When Mamma Mia came on, Tyler—who you were increasingly discovering was pure chaos in a body, perhaps even more chaotic than Harry and Matt combined—tried to start a conga line through the bar. Not only was he stopped by Mike, but also by the sheer number of people packed into the space.

Meanwhile, you were left behind the bar, fielding drink requests and racking up students’ credit cards with drinks they probably would forget ordering in the morning. You even had one Beer Baptism, an exciting element of the night, when some hockey player informed you he has drank every beer on tap, meaning he had achieved his Beer Baptism status. Harry and Matt lost their shit in the corner when you announced it and rang the bell over the bar, before grabbing two full pints of the hockey player’s requested beer of choice—Budweiser, for some fucking reason—and poured it over his head.

After three, the bar had started to empty out, but the four musketeers in the corner were still going strong. Harry kept coming up to you and asking for a shot of this or such and such drink, and even requested to make an Old Fashioned behind the bar again. You told him he was too drunk to make it right, but next time he could. Every time he came up he offered some sexual innuendo or bad joke, a lingering touch on your hand when you passed him his drink, or a wink that left u scowling at him. He even unbuttoned his shirt a few more buttons so by the time it was just him and his lineage in the corner, it was barely even on him. The whole idea of “No shoes, no shirt, no service” was quickly becoming a possible line you could use, especially when he kicked his feet up on the table and Caleb was trying to grab at his boots and pull them off, much to your amusement.

At 3:45, there were no patrons left except for the booth full of boys, so you had Lucy start cleaning up while you grabbed a beer—your first drink of the night other than the shot you did with Harry—and walked over to the boys. Harry was on the end, since he kept on coming and going from the booth, his knees spread wide and one arm slung over the back of the seat. At the sight of you approaching, he straightened up and set his drink down on the table.

“Hey,” he said, drawing out the Y as you slid in next to him, his arm falling easily around your shoulders.

“Hello,” you answered, nudging his knee with yours. “You’re man spreading all over my booth, Styles.”

Tyler snorted and Harry shifted, pulling his knees in closer together. “Didn’t know it was your booth.”

“I work here, you know.”

“I noticed,” he answered, tongue running over his lip as he looked at you. “I like this top you’ve got on.”

You sipped on your beer before replying, “It’s a bodysuit, actually.”

“So I’ve got a genuine question,” Matt said, leaning in towards you from across the table. “How do you pee with that on?”

“It’s got snaps on the crotch.” For some reason Tyler and Caleb blush at the word crotch and it makes you smile internally. “Can be a bitch to take on and off, though.”

“Huh.” Matt leaned his cheek on his palm. “I never fully understood the appeal.”

“Well,” you said, placing your beer on the table. “They tuck into pants and skirts so there’s smooth lines. But also it kind of feels like you’re wearing lingerie.”

That had all the boys blushing, including Harry, who said, “So that’s like lingerie to you?”

You glanced down at the lace long-sleeved bodysuit you wore and shrugged. “Guess so.”

“I always thought lingerie involved less material, not full on sleeves.”

You mulled this over, and decided to push his buttons a bit more. “So is a babydoll not considered lingerie to you?”

His eyebrows scrunched up and if you were being honest, the expression was positively adorable. You wondered if it was the face he gave when he couldn’t figure out a math problem or was looking at IKEA instructions. “The fuck’s a babydoll?”

“Other than a pet name?” You threw back and Harry quirked a smile. “It’s like a…sexy nightgown, I guess you could say.”

“Sexy nightgown.” Harry stated, mulling over the thought in his head, and you watched as he brushed a hand through his hair, considering the concept. “And that would have more material than what you’re wearing right now?”

You shrugged and took another sip of your beer. “Arguably.”

“Then yeah, I guess that’s still considered lingerie. A sexy nightgown, huh?” He blew out a breath of air and looked to the boys across the booth from you. “Damn, the girls I’ve been seeing have been holding out on me.”

The boys laughed, but you wanted Harry’s attention back on you. Maybe it was the close proximity of his body or the smell of his cologne that overwhelmed your senses, or the way you could see the butterfly tattoo on his abdomen and the low rise of his incredibly tight skinny jeans, but you wanted him. Badly.

So you reached down and placed a hand on his thigh, high enough to make his breath catch but not too high where you were actually touching him. Just close enough to make him consider the prospect. “You’ve been picking the wrong girls, then,” you said, the words low in your chest and Harry’s eyes were on you in an instant. Immediately there was movement on the other side of the booth, Tyler, Caleb and Matt sliding out one by one. “Leaving, boys?”

Matt nodded. “H?”

Harry’s eyes hadn’t left your face and the weight of his gaze had your heart pumping a mile a minute. “I think I’m going to stay.”

His fingers moved from the booth seat next to him to cover your hand that rested on his thigh, slowly inching it up his pant leg. “I’ll take him home,” you said, glancing back to Matt. “I’ll let you know when he’s home, okay?”

Matt gave Harry another look, and then nodded, obviously trusting you to take care of his friend. “Let me know if you need anything.” With that, he turned away, waving to Lucy and giving Mike a slap on the back on his way out.

Your attention turned back to Harry, who had somehow slid closer to you on the seat. “What was all that talk about lingerie, hmm?” He asked, the hand that rested next to your shoulder moving to rub the top of your arm, heat surging through your veins at his touch. “You always chew me out for sayin’ shit to you, and then you go and say that. In front of my friends, no less.”

You drummed your fingers on his inner thigh and caught the way he swallowed thickly at the feeling. “I wanted to see what you’d say, I guess.”

“And?”

“I now know you’ve never seen a babydoll. Or nearly enough lingerie.”

He sucked in a breath and then leaned his head down, his lips brushing against your earlobe. “Is that your way of asking me if I’d like to see your collection?”

Your heartbeat was thudding in your ears as he grazed your hair with his nose, eyes fluttering shut at the feeling. He had your insides moving in circles like they were on a merry-go-round, consumed in nothing but him. Slowly, you lifted your leg closest to his so it hooked over his knee, tugging yourself closer to him. “Perhaps.”

Under the low lights of the bar, the green of his eyes twinkled at you, your coyness making him grab at your knee, kneading his thumb into your skin over your jeans. “You told Matt you’d take me home.”

“I did.”

“What’s the likelihood we could change the destination on that ride home?”

Your hand moved from his thigh to his torso, skittering over his shirt and tucking against his exposed skin, his butterfly tattoo flexing under your touch. “I could be convinced. What did you have in mind?”

“Your place,” he said, hand squeezing your knee tightly when you scratched his skin softly. “Fuck, Y/N.”

“You’re drunk,” you told him simply.

With a combination of tenderness and need that had you desperate for him, he nudged your temple with his nose and said, “I won’t be in the morning.”

“Is that right?” The feeling of his breath in your ear made you grab at his side, pulling at his skin with your hand, wanting just to feel him in some way. You were sober and yet he had you feeling drunk, drunk on need and desire. “Then come on, Birthday Princess.”

The wood of your front door slammed against your back the second you shut the door behind you, Harry’s body pinning you to the door. His hands tugged on your hips and your hands were in his hair and the sounds falling from your mouth were positively sinful. The way he pulled on your bottom lip and sucked on it, making you press up into his body, hands tugging at his shirt, how his hands fell to your ass and squeezed, you squeaking into his mouth. How he lifted one of your legs and hooked it around his hips, allowing your centers to meet, and he shakily exhaled. It was consuming, kissing Harry, trying to keep track of what he was doing and then finally giving up and just losing yourself in him, in the way he touched you and made your entire body erupt in flames.

“Jump,” he said, pulling at your other thigh and you did so immediately, not even wasting a beat before hooking your ankles around his hips and letting him grind into you.

You let out a wanton moan at the feeling of the friction from your jeans meeting and rubbing into you, and from the way his breath caught, you knew he was just as affected as you were. His necklace swung on its chain as he pulled away and sucked a line of kisses down your neck, just as you had thought about doing to him earlier. When he prodded at your pulse point with his teeth and then licked over the spot you tugged on his hair, his name a broken whimper on your lips.

Hands met skin, both of you needing more and more. You pushed at his shirt, the predominantly unbuttoned garment falling easily from his shoulders and pooling at his elbows. The fresh skin served as an opportunity, and you took it, bending your head and licking across his collarbones, his head tipping back at the feeling. You sucked a mark onto the protruding bone, right over the wing of one of his swallows, and blew on it when you were done, Harry hissing above you.

From the way his fingers were digging into your jeans and you were panting in his hold, you knew that if you didn’t slow things down they were going to get out of hand—and quickly. So you lightly pushed at his shoulders, his gaze bouncing up to your eyes. “We should stop,” you mumbled, sucking in air finally. “Just—just sleep for now. Yeah?”

“‘m feeling more sober now,” he said, diving back into your neck, but you pulled on his hair, hauling him away.

“I had to literally help you walk to my car.”

He pouted at you. “That was a weak moment.”

But you shook your head at him, having none of it. “I want you at full capacity,” you told him, and his jaw dropped slightly, just enough to part his lips and you to press a finger into the space. His teeth tugged on your nail and finger pad, eyes on yours. “Want you fully sober so I can see what I’ve been waiting for.” Then you dropped your finger from his lips and ran it along his jawline, watching his eyes try to take in every one of your motions. “Plus, I want you to be able to remember my lingerie collection when I model it for you.”

When Harry groaned, it was deep and unrestrained, a demand from the most feral part of him. His head dropped to your chest and you pushed through his locks, his panting breath on your skin through your bodysuit. “I’m not gonna be able to sleep with that image running through my head.”

You rested your hands on his shoulders and pressed down on them so you could unhook your ankles and drop to the floor. “I think you’ll manage. Now, c’mon, let’s get ready for bed.”

His fingers threaded through yours as you pulled him through your apartment, thankful Rhea was spending the night at her boyfriend’s so she wouldn’t be awoken from the giggles that left your mouth when Harry tripped over your shoes and the corner of your bookcase in the living room. You led him to your bedroom and left the door open, walking over to your dresser, kicking off your booties on your way. “Are you going to take this off?” His fingers graced over the top of your shoulder and you inhaled sharply.

“Yes.” You unhooked your hoop earrings and dropped them into your jewelry box. “Is that a problem?”

“Slightly,” he answered, fingers trailing down your arm. “I was hoping to do that myself.”

You turned around so he was facing you, eyes blown out in desire and cheeks flushed from the copious amounts of alcohol he had consumed that night. “Then do it.”

His tongue darted out quickly, licking the center of his lips, and then he smiled at you, a boyish look of delight. “Is this my birthday gift?” Fingers brushed the top of your jeans and you nodded. “Goddamn, aren’t I lucky.” He popped the button and drew your zipper down, eyes fluttering to yours to make sure you were okay as he moved his hands to your hips, pushing the material down. “Holy fuck,” he suddenly breathed out and you glanced down.

The tattoo on your left hip had caught his attention, his palm resting just above where it started, his eyes trained on the ink on your skin. “What? You’ve got plenty of them.”

A chuckle left his mouth, and then he just shook his head. “You keep on surprising me.” His fingers crept down your skin, brushing against the chrysanthemums that covered from where your bodysuit sat on the rise of your hips to a bit down your thigh. “Does it mean anything?”

You nodded slowly. “It was my grandmother’s favorite flower.”

He must have noticed your word choice, because he quietly said, “I’m sorry,” before bending down and kissing over your tattoo. You inhaled sharply and watched as he tugged your jeans the rest of the way down your legs. Once you’d stepped out of them, he rose back to full height. “Can I take this thing off?” He asked, pulling softly on the hem of your bodysuit.

“Yes.”

“Snaps, hmm?” He ducked his head and you widened your legs enough for him to be able to tuck his hand between your legs. The pads of his fingers brushed over your clit and you couldn’t help the whimper that felt from your lips, the sound of it making Harry smile. “I can feel you.” He pressed lightly to your center through the two layers of material and you gripped the dresser you were leaning against.

You hadn’t been this wet, this in need of someone in such an all consuming way, in ages. Most people would have probably been embarrassed, but you just nodded, affirming his statement. Yes, you were wet, and yes it was all for him.

In a flourish, he gripped your bodysuit where the snaps laid and pulled, the sound of the fastenings coming undone cascading through your silent room. “Convenient,” he muttered to himself. Then, his hands pushed the mesh fabric up, revealing your black lace thong and the stretch of your bare stomach. “You know,” he said, squeezing at the curve of your torso, “I quite liked this thing. All that mesh. Could see your bra all night and it drove me fucking crazy just having to watch and not be able to touch you.”

When he pushed it above your breasts, revealing your lacy bralette, you lifted your arms and let him pull it over your head, the fabric falling to the ground. “Well, now you can,” you informed him.

The gaze he fixed you made your skin tingle. Without another beat, his hands were on your breasts, fingers brushing across your skin and then dipping into the material. With your breasts exposed, he whispered your name, forgotten on his tongue when he leaned in and fastened his lips to your nipple, the skin hardening immediately from the wetness on his tongue.

Curses left your mouth in a string, hands tugging on his hair as he prodded at your skin. He didn’t linger there though, seeming to be too focused on the greater task, because he lifted his head from your chest after a minute or so. And then his hands were at your back, unhooking your bralette and pulling it from your body, revealing your nearly fully naked body to him. His thumbs brushed over the solar system tattooed on your ribcage and you shuddered at the feeling.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous,” he mumbled, eyes taking you in. “Good god.”

The heat that rushed to your cheeks you couldn’t stop, so instead you distracted yourself with teasing him. “Take your shirt off.” His eyebrows raised, but he followed your directions, unbuttoning the final button and pulling the material off of his shoulders. As he was about to drop it to the ground you stopped him, taking the fabric in your hands. He watched in fascination as you pulled it over your shoulders, buttoned the middle two buttons, and then looked up at him. The shirt covered most of your ass, the tops of your thighs and your tattoo exposed.

“Like my shirt, huh?”

You nodded, and then decided it was your turn to touch his skin. Your hands criss-crossed across his exposed chest, brushing across the marks you had left and down, tracing his nipples until they pebbled, and then down to the laurels on his pelvis, barely peeking out from the top of his jeans. Then, you popped the button on his jeans, and when he didn’t stop you, you pushed them down his legs, struggling a bit with how tight they were, but succeeding finally. He was left in nothing but his briefs, a lion tattoo on his thigh exposed to your eyes and some small ink on his knees you thought was cute. You wondered how drunk he was when he did it, but decided not to ask.

“What happened to getting ready for bed?” He asked, hands running up and down your arms.

“We’re dressed for bed, aren’t we?” You turned around though, and led him out of your room and down the hall to where the bathroom was. “Go ahead—I’m going to get us some water. Use anything you want, except my toothbrush. There’s spares under the sink.”

You left him to his own devices and made your way through your apartment, grabbing two glasses and filling them with water, tucking a bottle of ibuprofen under your arm. He would need it in the morning. After leaving them on your bedside table, you headed for the bathroom where the door was open, Harry brushing his teeth at the sink. You slid in next to him and he moved to the side, allowing you to grab your face wash and splash water on your face, swiping the liquid in circles over your skin. After your moisturizer and eye cream, you started brushing your teeth, trying not to focus on how Harry was just leaning against the wall watching you.

“You good over there?” You asked, spitting into the sink and rinsing off your toothbrush before dropping it into the jar on the sink that held them.

He nodded. “This is going to sound weird,” he said, “but I feel…comfortable with you. Like this kind of shit,” he gestured to the bathroom, “I’ve never done this.”

“Brushed your teeth?”

“No,” he grumbled, grabbing for your hips. “I don’t usually get ready for bed when I spend the night with girls.”

You tried not to read into that statement, to wonder if you were some normal hookup or something more. Instead, you leaned in and pecked his lips, before tugging him out of the bathroom and towards your room. “Water’s on the table,” you told him, shutting the door behind you as you stepped inside. “And some ibuprofen, if you want it.”

He walked over to the opposite side of the bed and gulped down the water, tossing some of the medicine on his tongue and finishing off the water. “Thanks.”

“Of course,” you answered, and then pulled back the covers on your bed. You settled in between the sheets, and watched as Harry slid in beside you, obviously trying to gauge what you wanted. Once he was comfortable, you shuffled towards him, and without thinking too much into it, you rested your head on his chest. He immediately brought his arm around your body, holding you close to him. “Night,” you mumbled.

“Night, Y/N.” His voice was gravelly from exhaustion and alcohol, and you shut your eyes, falling asleep to the rise and fall of his chest.

You blinked, eyelids heavy from exhaustion, as you woke up. Sunlight was streaming in your curtains, which despite being blackout curtains, could do little to hold back at the sun in the morning. As you gathered your senses, you realized that the other side of your bed was empty. Picking up your head, you took inventory of the room—Harry’s boots on the floor, your clothes haphazardly tossed in your laundry basket, your phone charging on your bedside table and a full water glass sitting there.

You had finished yours last night, if you remembered correctly. But you shrugged and grabbed the water, chugging it as you unplugged your phone and checked the time. It was noon, which was the normal time you woke up after a shift, meaning you’d had somewhere between seven and eight hours of sleep. You could’ve slept for hours, but what was more urgent than a couple more hours of sleep was where Harry had run off to. Slowly you pulled yourself up, Harry’s shirt still adorning your body, and walked out of your room and into the hallway, where the smell of coffee hit your nose immediately.

“Morning sleepyhead,” Harry said when you walked into the open plan kitchen and living room. He was sitting at the bar that divided the room in half, a cup of coffee in his hand and a bottle of Pedialyte on the counter next to him. “I’m glad you found the water. I was getting pretty close to waking you up.”

“Thanks for that,” you said, raising the glass to him. You meandered past him into the kitchen, where you grabbed a coffee cup—this one was from a National Park you’d visited the summer before with your family—and filled it with coffee. “How long have you been up?”

“Two hours,” he answered. “I have a hard time sleeping after a big night out.”

“Pedialyte?” You asked, nodding to the bottle on the counter.

He grimaced and set down his cup. “Yeah. I went out and got it while you were asleep.”

Sun was streaming in the white curtains in the living room, casting the whole apartment in a bright mid-day glow. Harry was in just his jeans, no shirt, and you couldn’t help but wonder what he had worn out. “Did you wear that out?”

He glanced down at himself. “Yeah. Stole one of your big sweatshirts, too.”

“Did you now?” You shifted away from the counter, rounding the counter so you stood in front of him. “Which one?”

Green eyes followed your hand as it landed on his knee, moving it away from the other one to create space. When you took a step forward, you could hear his breath hitch and gave him a coy smile, your free hand sliding up his thigh. “Your green one. Said Obsession on it, or something—it was the only one that fit me.”

You chuckled softly. “It’s my ex’s.”

He huffed. “S’mine, now.”

“Is it now?” You asked, setting your cup on the counter next to Harry’s. “Planning on taking over for him?”

“As an ex?”

You shook your head, hands drifting up his torso. “As the guy who gets to wear my clothes.” You tried not to think about what those words meant, what you were asking him, because your mind was too wrapped up in him to even be thinking about your intent.

“Happily.” His hands finally landed on your waist, ring-clad fingers pressing into the skin covered by his shirt. “You know, you look good in this.” Fingers slipped under the material of his shirt, the white Styles on the chest stretching over your breast as you breathed.

“It’s black,” you told him, trying to keep your breathing even. “Everyone would look in it.”

“Hmm,” he hummed, kneading your sides. “Dunno about that.”

Both your hands and Harry’s explored each other’s skin, taking inventory of every rise and fall, roll of skin, the places that made each other gasp just a bit. It felt good, being this intimate with someone just like this, nothing but one another’s hands. “Then what’s so special about me wearing it?”

Palms cupped your breasts, squeezing delicately, his full forearms tucked underneath the fabric of his shirt. “That you’re the one in it,” he murmured, voice dropping an octave. “You, wearing my shirt, my last name on your chest.” He blew out a breath and you tweaked one of his nipples in reply. “Fuck, Y/N, you’re a dream.”

“How about we move this to my bedroom,” you said, slipping your hands up to his shoulders. “And I finally show you my lingerie collection?” You didn’t have to ask him twice. He was standing, your hand in his, and pulling you in the direction of your room immediately, a giggle leaving your lips at the sudden movement. “Somebody’s eager.”

“You’ve been talking about this lingerie for like twelve hours, love,” he said, shutting your door behind you. “I fuckin’ dreamed about it.”

You pulled out of his grasp and he fell down to your bed, where the sheets were twisted from sleep. His messy long hair and shirtless torso drew in your gaze, the way he leaned against your pillows, watching you. “Did you now?” You turned to your dresser and pulled out your top drawer, where your lingerie lived. “Close your eyes,” you told him, peeking back at where he laid.

Once he followed your instructions, grumbling about missing out on half the show, you pulled out your first item—a dark blue babydoll, lace appliqué covering the skirt and a bow nestled between the molded cups, a matching g-string that you slid over your hips. You fluffed your hair, suddenly wishing you had had the forethought to wash your face before you took on this endeavor.

“Open,” you told Harry, and turned in his direction.

“Holy fuck,” he said in one breath, sitting up immediately, as if a jolt of electricity had ripped through his body. “Is this a babydoll?”

“Good memory,” you replied, leaning against your dresser. You didn’t know what to do with your body other than just stand there and let his eyes trail over you. “Thoughts?”

“How would you feel about never wearing clothes again?” He asked, gnawing at his lip. “Just that.”

You blushed, and picked at the hem of it. “I think I might get cold.”

“I’ll give you a jacket.”

“How kind.” You turned around and when he whined, you turned just your head to him. “There’s more sets to show you, you know. Close those eyes, mister.” He did as you asked and you pulled off the lingerie, lovingly folding it back into your dresser. Your fingers ran over the lace in front of you, trying to decide which one of your, admittedly many, sets you wanted to show him next. Finally, you settled on a pink lace set that was essentially see-through. You’d never worn it before—it was one of your newer purchases, one you’d chosen after a successful test grade.

You pulled up the panties and hooked the bra behind your back, sliding the straps up your arms until they settled comfortably on the dip of your shoulders. Then, you turned and at the sight of Harry sitting there, patiently waiting, you decided to reward him a bit. You walked towards him, and when you reached his form, you settled your hands on his shoulders. The touch made his eyes flutter open, and the second he saw your body his eyes widened. “Wow,” was all he could say as he studied the material covering your skin.

“What do you think?” The more his eyes lingered on you, the more you loved how you burned under his gaze.

He licked his lips and reached out, thumbing across the top of the lace thong you wore. “How is this one even better?”

You tilted your head to the side and pressed closer to him, his palms falling down your sides as you stepped between his knees. “You’re the first person to see this one.”

“Really?” He seemed like a kid in a candy store after being told he could buy whatever he wanted. “I’m honored.” You pulled away from his grasp and he groaned, snatching your hips back between his hands. “Where are you going?”

“I’ve got more to show you,” you informed him, pulling his hands off of you. “Patience, Styles.”

“Baby,” he rasped, the pet name falling from his mouth with ease, and you wondered if you would ever forget how it sounded. “I don’t know if I can survive much more.”

Your eyes fell to his pants, where you could see his hard-on, the outline of his dick straining against the tight denim. “Somebody’s desperate.”

“Tease,” he shot back. “I’m serious, though. I’ll let you finish later.”

You considered his proposal, but ended up pulling away. “One more. It’ll be worth it, I promise.”

He groaned, but nodded, shutting his eyes obediently as you moved away from him. At your dresser, you found the set you were looking for, a dark green set. The bra was a balconette cut, lace appliqué covering the cups and running up the straps. You pulled on the suspender belt that matched, the straps dangling down your legs as you put on the thong next. Then, you grabbed a pair of black stockings and clipped them to the bottom of the suspenders. You fluffed your hair a bit and then turned back around.

“Open,” you instructed and when Harry’s eyes opened the moan that left his mouth ran down your spine like fire.

“Fuck.” The word was all he could say, his jaw literally dropping at the sight of you standing there. “Come here.” You didn’t move, though, wanting to hear him beg for you. This set had your confidence soaring through the roof, the combination of the material on your skin and Harry’s gaze making you want to see what you could make him do for you. “Please,” he finally said, shifting towards you.

So you walked over to him, slowly, keeping your shoulders back so the bra strained across your chest. When you reached him you placed a hand on his bare chest, pressing him slightly back so he rested on his hands, eyes staring up at you as you rested a knee on either side of his thighs, sitting down on his lap. “Worth the wait?”

His hands immediately moved, settling on your hips, sliding over the green lace. “You’re going to kill me,” he rasped, words rough in his throat. The sight of his pupils blown out in desire, chest rising and falling under your palm as he took in your body in this set made you grasp the back of his neck and pull his lips towards yours.

The two of you met in a blaze of fire, need flowing between you as he tugged you closer, your center brushing over the denim of his jeans. When you whimpered he suckled on your lip and you pulled at the roots of his hair, needing to hear him groan into your mouth. You wanted to hear every one of his sounds, to take inventory of him and store it away for later when he wasn’t right there in front of you. Lips met and parted, slotting together with ease as you both surged towards one another, begging for more.

His hands were covering every inch of you, pulling and grabbing and scratching at your skin, somehow bringing you closer and closer to him. When you began to rock against his jeans he let out a hiss, pulling your hips down onto his even more. Then his head dipped, nudging up your chin as he found your neck, nibbling and biting at your skin before licking along his marks, leaving you a whining mess in his lap. You were cradling his head, not wanting it to end, just to make him continue and continue and continue.

Now that you had him, you realized how long you had been waiting for this, even if you pretended like you weren’t. You had wanted him since the first time he made a bad joke and told you you looked beautiful, when he responded with a quick remark, countering your sass with plenty of his own. He met you tit for tat, ebbing and flowing with you like waves on a beach.

Your fingers wound around his cross necklace and tugged, just enough to get his lips to leave your skin and look up at you. “Tryin’ to get my attention?” He teased, squeezing at your waist, tight enough that he would probably leave marks but you didn’t mind. In fact, you looked forward to inspecting each inch of your body and seeing what he had left behind.

“Your jeans,” you mumbled. “I want them off.”

He chuckled lightly. “Now who’s the desperate one?”

“Shut up,” you said and he just smiled at you, his dimples poking out.

“Go on, then.” He watched as you slid back on his thighs and popped the button on his jeans, before getting up so you could pull them all the way off. Once they were on the ground, you moved towards him, but he stopped you. “Lay down for me, love,” he said, eyes trailing down your body as you stood in front of him.

You didn’t bother with sass, just falling to the twisted sheets and looking at him as he crawled towards you. His fingers found the clips of your suspenders, and you nodded at him, giving him silent permission to begin to undress you. When he released the stockings and began to pull them down, he kissed every inch of your revealed skin, creating a line down your calf that had your breath coming out in pants. “Harry,” you said, the last syllable of his name trailing off as he did the same thing to your other leg.

“Yes?” He asked, eyes popping up to you. His hair was a mess from your hands and you loved it—the sight of him with wide eyes and puffy dark pink lips, color in his cheeks and marks on his chest from your nails. When you didn’t respond, unable to even create words as he slipped his hands up your body and tugged down the suspender belt that sat at your waist, he said, “You’re going to have to speak up if you’ve got something to say, baby.”

That pet name. It was going to be the death of you and you had no idea why. Maybe because of the emotions swirling in your chest as you looked down at him, the way you wanted to simultaneously lie in his arms for hours and jump his bones, but also just hold his hand and hear him talk to you. Perhaps it was the fact that no one had ever called you that like he did, with desire and passion laced in the word, a tenderness and an edge to it that made you weak in the knees. “I need you,” you finally uttered.

“Do you now,” he responded, leaning forward on his knees so he hovered over you. “Can you be more specific?” Impatient, you grabbed his hand and pressed his fingers to your center, where you had soaked through your thong long ago. A low groan fell from his chest at the feeling of your wetness, and he peeked up at you from where he was touching you. “You’re soaked through,” he said in awe, brushing against your center and making your back arch up. “Fuck, Y/N. Is this for me? Did I get you like this?”

“Yes,” you drawled, pushing down onto his finger. Your mind was spinning, eyes fluttering shut and just losing yourself in the feeling of finally having contact where you needed him most. “Please,” you begged finally, rocking against him with your hips, chasing more.

Harry moved without pause, pulling your underwear down your legs and running his finger between your folds. The feeling of his touch on your warm flesh had you squirming, his name mixed in with curses as he rubbed softly in a circle. “That feel good?” He asked and you could feel his eyes traveling over your body even though your eyes were squeezed shut from the feeling. When he brushed his index finger against your hole which was dripping for him, you gasped, hips jutting down against him so the tip of his finger brushed inside of you. “God, you’re so wet,” he mumbled, almost to himself.

Then, he dipped a finger inside of you and you cried out, desperate and needy for him, unable to contain the sounds falling your lips as he built up a momentum, curling his finger inside of you and hitting your sweet spot. “Another,” you said, eyes finally opening so you could see him.

And the sight didn’t disappoint. His eyes were on your center, watching his finger move in and out of you, and you could see the outline of his bulge in his briefs, a small wet spot where his tip was. The fact that he was leaking while fingering you somehow just added to your pleasure. He added a second finger and pressed them deep inside of you, the cool metal of his rings brushing against your entrance and making you buck up against his fingers. You were squirming on the bed, unable to stay still because he was building an orgasm inside of you like no one else ever had. You could feel your belly tightening and your high was rising, sweat beads forming at the back of your neck.

When he rubbed on your front wall you let out a helpless cry. He had found the spot that made you go insane and you could tell he was happy, a smile stretching across his face. “I’m close,” you panted.

“What do you need?” His words were low and they just made you want him more.

“Your mouth.” The words were broken, but he seemed to understand because he shifted immediately, falling to his stomach between your legs and pulling you towards him. He decided to go harder, because he slammed his fingers into you at a brutal pace and matched it by licking at your nub, sucking and pulling at the sensitive skin. His tongue was sin against your skin, circling your clit and making you cry out. You dug your fingers into his hair and tugged at the strands, his name tumbling from your lips in a beg and a whine and a prayer all in one.

It didn’t take long before you were coming, the feeling rushing up without you even realizing, your back arching and hips bucking against his fingers and mouth. He lapped at you through it, eyes open and watching your orgasm, the shudder that left your mouth and how you fell into the mattress when you came down. When he pulled his fingers from you, you hissed, and he just kissed your pelvic bone, before sitting back on his heels and dipping his fingers into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the digits that were covered in your juices.

“Get over here,” you demanded, hooking your foot around his hips and pulling him towards you.

He clamored over you, his lips finding yours once again, and you sighed into the kiss, pulling his mouth closer to you. You needed him like you had never needed anyone else, a feeling that took over your body and ran your mind. When his head dipped and he tugged on your earlobe you whined. “Can I have you,” he asked into your skin. “Please? I waited and I just…fuck, I can’t wait anymore.”

“Yes,” you told him, hands falling to his waist and pushing down his briefs. “Condoms are in my bedside table.”

His head bounced up at that and he reached over, wrenching open the drawer and searching blindly for a packet. When his fingers found one he moved back over you, the foil falling next to your head. Then, he pushed his briefs the rest of the way down his legs, letting the material fall to the floor with the rest of your clothes. Next was your bra, his hands moving to your back and deftly unhooking it, pulling the lace from your skin. “Beautiful,” he hummed, nestling his face between your breasts.

You chuckled, brushing his hair back. “I swear, boys and boobs,” you said.

“Hey,” he replied, picking up his head. “Don’t make me out to be some horny teenager.”

“Aren’t you?” You teased, picking up the condom between your fingers.

“No.” He took the packet and ripped it open with his teeth. “I’m twenty-one, baby.” Then, he rolled the condom down his length and you watched, absorbing his fully naked body for the first time. The cut of the muscles under his skin, the way his tattoos stretched across his torso, the full length of him that you decided you wanted in your mouth after.

He brushed his tip against your slit and you whined unabashedly, rocking towards him. “H,” you mumbled, “please.” That was all he needed, because without another pause he was pressing into you, bottoming out in one go. You let out an unrestrained moan, grappling at his shoulders as he sunk onto his elbows, his face hovering above yours. As he pulled out and pushed back in, a groan from his lips filling the space between you, you watched his face. The way his eyebrows pulled together and he bent his head, resting his forehead against your collarbone as he found his rhythm.

Once he did, it was heaven. His sweaty skin meeting yours as he drove into you at a brutal pace, but one that felt fucking incredible. Your ankles hooked around his hips and held him close inside of you, and you tugged on his necklace to pull his lips to yours, needing the softness of his tongue inside your mouth again. Your hands twisted in his hair, yanking on his strands when he pushed in particularly hard, and he groaned. He liked his hair being pulled, you discovered, and you decided to keep at it, threading your hands through his locks and pulling whenever he hit that spongy spot that made you see stars.

“Like that,” you rasped when he latched his lips to your neck, most definitely leaving a mark on your skin. “Yes, H, just like that. Fuck, you’re so deep.” Your words were a mess, just a stream of consciousness, but he didn’t seem to mind. Instead, he slammed into you harder and pulled your leg higher, tugging it so that your foot rested over his shoulder and your hamstrings stretched. And when he pushed back in, you scrambled at his back, drawing harsh lines down his skin at the feeling of him reaching a new depth.

“Feel so good,” he mumbled, words broken as they spilled from his lips. “Y/N, god, so good.” His hands fisted in the sheets and you dug your nails into his shoulders when he swiveled his hips slightly, brushing every inch of you. When you squeezed him, his head tipped back, exposing his neck and you leaned up, ignoring the burn in your hamstring, and licked up his throat. He rasped your name as you pulled at the skin at the juncture of his shoulder and neck, making a mark of your own for him to enjoy later.

You fell back down and slipped your leg from its spot on his shoulder, and pulled him close to you, wanting to kiss him again. His lips seemed to be your new obsession, wanting nothing more than to be touching them constantly. He didn’t seem to have a problem with it, slotting your lips between his and kissing you fiercely as he pistoned in and out of you.

There were going to be bruises on your inner thighs, you were sure of it. You would be feeling the impact of his hips on your thighs for days, every time you sat down the muscles would ache and you would remember this—him moving in and out of you and panting in your ear, mumbling about how good you felt around him, how gorgeous you were, how much he loved fucking you. The prospect of feeling him for days was one you looked forward to.

When he gave a particularly deep thrust you moved up on the sheets, grabbing hold of his neck to hold yourself steady, and he moaned. You peeked down at him and as he moved back in, you asked, “Did you like that?”

“Yeah,” he replied, a broken confirmation. “Again, please.”

You’d never really done this before, so you decided to be careful with him, just a bit of pressure using your fingers. With four fingers on one side of his neck and your thumb on the other, halfway down his neck, you pressed down on his skin when he drove back into you and his eyes fluttered shut at the feeling. The heel of your palm rested on the hollow of his neck as your fingers squeezed on either side of his neck, watching in rapture as he fucked into you harder and leaned into your touch. Slowly, you loosened and then tightened your grip, changing it up to make sure he was getting enough air.

“Is that good?” You asked, trying to focus as he drove harshly into you, the sound of his hips slapping your skin filling the room. He bobbed his head and pressed into your palm, so you squeezed your fingers again, wanting to give him what he asked for.

“I’m close,” he said, voice husky.

“Me too,” you answered, kicking your heels higher around his waist and pressing up into him so he reached even deeper inside of you. You could feel that same high building inside of you, an intensity waiting on the brink as he pressed into you, your fingers pressing into his throat again and again.

Then he pulled away slightly, rising up so his arms were fully extended and you couldn’t quite choke him anymore, so your hand fell to his bicep, squeezing at his skin as he somehow moved both faster and deeper inside of you. His hands dug into the sheets and he drove in and out of you at a pace unmatched, your head falling back to the mattress. You were panting, eyes glued to the sight of his necklace swinging back and forth as he moved, the tension in his muscles and the sheen of sweat covering his skin. He was utterly, breathtakingly beautiful.

You couldn’t take it anymore, and reached down between you two, rubbing your fingers over your clit because you were just seconds from the edge and you needed it. Harry’s eyes took in the sight in awe, and his jaw dropped slightly, a curse ripping through his throat as you clenched around him and threw back your head, a deep moan falling through the air. You were squirming underneath him, Harry’s hands having to hold onto your torso to keep you steady as he thrusted into you, finishing himself off as you came, tightening around him. His name left your lips in a beg and he picked up your hand, bringing it back to his throat.  

With a tight squeeze, your fingers wrapped around his throat like before, he bucked into you once more and then was practically growling as he emptied himself into the condom, body shaking against you. You unwrapped your hand from his neck and ran your fingers through his hair, before pulling him down to your chest, wanting him close as he pulled out of you. “Holy shit,” he mumbled into your shoulder, and you laughed softly.

“You ever had someone choke you before?” You asked, brushing your fingers up and down his spine as he settled.

“No,” he said, his lips puckering against your throat, light kisses to your skin. “Kind of liked it, though.”

“Kind of?” You squeezed his butt cheek in jest, and he squeaked against you, making you fully laugh, body rumbling against him. “You literally picked up my hand and put it there.”

He tucked his face deeper into your neck and you could tell he was embarrassed. “Okay fine, I really liked it.”

You hummed and pressed a kiss to his shoulder. “I did too. It was my first time doing that.”

“Yeah?” He picked up his head and propped it up on his palm, looking at you. “Was it okay?”

Pushing back the hair from his forehead, you nodded. “I thought it was really hot.”

A smile quirked up on his lips. “You mean you think I’m really hot.”

You whacked his shoulder and he feigned pain, jaw dropping slightly. “Stop fishing for compliments.” He rolled his eyes at you, but moved off of your body, sitting on the edge of the bed and pulling off the condom, tying the end and tossing it in the trash. Red marks covered his back from your nails and you ran your hand over them, watching as he shivered from the sensitivity. “If anyone sees your back they’re going to think you got fucking mauled by a bear.”

He turned his head and raised his eyebrow at you. “A bear, huh? I thought it was just this really hot girl.”

“Good to know you think I’m hot too.” He laughed and turned fully around, crawling back into bed with you.

The sheets were sweaty but you didn’t mind, you just wanted to be close to him. He laid down on his back and pulled you in, your leg draping over his and your breasts pushing up against his side. Your head rested on his shoulder and you let out a breath, relaxing into his hold.

After you’d been lying there for a few minutes, he cleared his throat and you looked up at him. “You know,” he said, “I don’t know if this was obvious, but I really like you.”

His ring-clad fingers trailed up your back, drawing circles against your skin. You considered his words, rolling them over in your head, and considered your own feelings. Where did you stand? You knew you liked him based on how you felt around him, this just constant desire to have his hands on you. The way you could joke around with him and the banter between you made you feel at ease, a kind of comfort with him that you hadn’t found with anyone else. He was gorgeous and kind and a bit of an idiot, but you found it endearing. You also, admittedly, loved how obsessed he was with you. “I like you too,” you replied, turning your head so you could fully look at him, your chin resting on his chest.

He looked down at you, sliding his forearm under his head. “Yeah?”

“Mhm,” you hummed, kissing the skin nearest to you. “Really like you, even.”

“Well thank god,” he said, pinching your skin slightly. “It would’ve been really awkward if you didn’t.”

“Why is that?”

He smiled at you. “I might’ve introduced myself as your boyfriend to your doorman.”

You rolled your eyes at him and pushed up, moving so you could hover over him fully, hands on either side of his head. “Does this mean I have to go to all of your formals and shit with you?”

“Obviously,” he replied, pushing a strand of your hair behind your ear. “And my drinks at 260 are going to be free.” You huffed at his request for you to make all his drinks at the bar you worked at to be free, but Harry was having none of it. “Come on, baby, I’ll come to every one of your shifts.”

“Fine,” you answered, sliding your knees up his sides so you could sit squarely over the laurels on his pelvis. “But you have to bring me a snack.”

“Oh,” he said, quirking up his lips in a smirk, “baby I’m a full meal.” You swatted at his chest and he laughed, grabbing your hand and pressing a kiss to your palm, before tugging you back into him. You fell into him with ease, unable to hold up any walls to him anymore. Somehow, he had busted through each one of them and you didn’t want to rebuild them. Having him wrapped up in your heart was perfectly fine with you, you thought to yourself when he kissed the top of your head and asked if you wanted pancakes.

Yeah, you decided, you could get used to this.

fill my inbox with your favorite moments, lines, things you’re having ~feels~ about, or other concepts you’re dreaming up for bartender!y/n!!!!

[trentaafcsblog]

NSFW Alphabet

Mason Mount

A - aftercare You’d be lying if you said that this wasn’t sometimes your favourite part about having sex, something about how soft and caring Mason becomes once the two of you have reached your highs just making you feel like the only girl in the world, and don’t get me wrong, he looks after you in the best possible way when you’re doing the business, but he’s just so much more attentive afterwards and he’s happy to kiss, cuddle and play with your hair as long as you need him to

B - body part Your ass, god he’s got an obsession with it, always catching him licking his lips whenever you wear *those* gym leggings or a tiny pair of shorts, and it’s got to the point where it feels weird not to have his hand glued to it twenty-four-seven

C - cum At the start of your relationship you were super strict about Mason wearing a condom, so it’s only recently that you’ve started to be a bit more adventurous when it comes to your orgasms, letting him try out all kinds of different things to see which you both prefer, whether that’s cumming on your ass, your your tits, in your mouth or inside your pussy, you’re still trying to figure that your one out, but it’s honestly the hottest thing knowing that at least one part of your body is decorated with his seed

D - dirty secret You’ve recently discovered the world of sexting, and it’s quite possibly your favourite thing, loving how you can pass your thumbs tapping away on your screen as ‘oh I’m just messaging my boyfriend’, when actually you’re begging him to be balls deep inside of you tonight whilst he fucks your pussy raw

E - exposed Not to jinx it but you haven’t been caught yet, there was one time where his mum came home from work early and you were face down on the mattress whilst Mason fucked you from behind, but that’s as close as it’s got, and fingers crossed it stays that way

F - foreplay Again, it’s something that’s taken time for the two of you to get into the swing of doing, but now it’s become an essential part of your sex lives, sometimes not even bothering to do the actual deed and instead just letting Mason eat you out whilst you suck his dick, loving how the other person can bring you so much pleasure in the most incredible ways

G - goofy At the start of your relationship there were a couple of times when you ended up in a fit of giggles, mainly because you were both worried incase you got ‘too’ into it and the other person wasn’t ready, but now you’re so much more comfortable around one another that it’s rare that you have outbursts of random giggles anymore 

H - horny Mason finds it hard not to be when you’re his girlfriend, always wandering around with a boner because you look so good all the time, looking at you with a twinkle in his eye each time you come down wearing a tiny top or a little pair of shorts in the hope that you catch on to what he’s thinking

I - intimacy It’s such an important part of your relationship, taking you a little while to feel completely comfortable around one another but now you’re both so close, both emotionally and sexually, which obviously helps when it comes to the bedroom

J - jack off Normally he tries to keep himself under control, especially since he knows that his hand has nothing on yours, but there have obviously been times when he’s been caught out and he just has to relieve some of his tension, sometimes struggling to keep himself sane when you’re busy spamming him with messages explaining how you’ll be sucking him off later

 K - kinks Mason’s got the biggest praise kink, loving how he thrusts deeper into your pussy or groans in your ear each time you call him your good boy, finding it so hot that those kinds of compliments just roll of your tongue without you even thinking, his brain fogging over with pure pleasure each time and causing his cock to almost explode 

L - location You usually stick to the bedroom, obviously there have been occasions where you’ve had sex on the sofa halfway through a movie or let him bend you over the kitchen whilst you’re making dinner, but you much prefer to keep it under the covers

M - moaning That boy knows what he’s doing so it’s practically impossible for you to hold back your moans, always turning into a complete whimpering mess for him when he’s slamming into you, and Mason’s just the same, always grunting and groaning in your ear with each thrust because you make him feel so good 

N - nudes You’ve both sent and received a fair few, Mason always choosing to pass his over when you’re out for lunch with your friends or sat at work, a series of photos of his rock solid cock appearing on your screen and causing the most furious blush to sweep across your cheeks, Mason finding it hilarious how you’ll get so turned on in an environment where you can’t do anything about it, only giving you a reason to punish him when you’re home 

O - oral His favourite thing in the whole wide world is seeing you knelt before him with his cock in your mouth, fucking your face for hours on end just so that he can hear you gagging and spluttering around him, your eyes streaming with tears and rolling back into your head as his cock hits the back of your throat

P - position Mason’s got two favourites - doggy and missionary, his choice of position depends on the mood that he’s in, opting for doggy if he wants to be a bit rough and reach his orgasm quickly, but choosing missionary when he wants to be a bit more intimate with you, loving how he can be so much closer to you and how you can feel his thrusts so much deeper

Q - quickie You both prefer longer sex sessions but obviously when the seconds are counting down on the clock then you’re making the most of the time that you have together, letting Mase fuck you at the most ridiculous speed before he needs to go to training or before you’re about to head out for dinner with your mates, loving how you can go about your day afterwards as though you haven’t just had your brains blown out, nobody knowing what you’ve been up to other than you two

R - risk You’re not the biggest risk takers to be honest, preferring to keep your sex life exclusively between the two of you rather than sharing it with a whole car park or holiday complex, but saying that, you have let Mason fuck you on the balcony in the early hours of the morning and you’ve also sucked him off in one of the back rooms at Stamford Bridge, yet other than that it’s pretty much safe sex in the company of just you and Mase

S - spit/swallow Swallow, always, why would you want to waste the aftermath of all of your hard work? Mason finding it the hottest thing ever that you don’t even have to contemplate your next move when he cums in your mouth, giving him your best innocent eyes or a little wink before you’re swallowing it down without any hesitation

T - toys You’ve got a vibrator that occasionally makes an appearance when you feel like you’re missing something in the bedroom, but nine times out of ten, you just let Mason do the work, his cock hitting all of the places that no toy could and his fingers rubbing your clit in a way that feels so good that you can’t even compare it to a vibrator, both of you preferring to be the people that bring each other pleasure, rather than letting a toy do the work

U - unfair Never ever ever, Mason’s honestly the sweetest person when it comes to sex so he’ll never cum before you, and even if he’s desperate to reach his orgasm, then he’ll try and hold off until your pussy is spasming around his cock first, hating seeing you begging and whining for him to let you cum so he’s always making sure that your needs are met well before his own

V - volume You can be prettyyy loud, which isn’t really hard when Mason fucks you so well, loving how you can scream his name as loudly as you want when it’s just you and him, your moans bouncing off the walls and echoing in his ears for hours afterwards, honestly finding your whines and whimpers so fucking sexy, especially since he knows he’s the only one making you feel that way

W - wild card Mason’s recently invested in a Polaroid camera to try and capture some of your best memories together, and somehow it’s managed to make its way into the bedroom too, resting on his bedside table until the perfect photo opportunity arises, taking a few snaps and hiding them away ready to look at when you need a bit of inspiration

X - x-ray It’s a good size, a veryyy good size, well and truly filling you up and managing to hit all of the right places, so you definitely aren’t complaining, even if it does sometimes take you a while to adjust to his length, much to Mason’s satisfaction 

Y - yearning He’s always in the mood to fuck you, I mean, who wouldn’t be when they’ve got such a pretty girl as their partner? Always catching him staring at your ass or letting his mind run free when his gaze brushes over your tits, but you don’t mind, because secretly you’re doing exactly the same to him

Z - zzz It’s hard not to fall asleep after sex, particularly your longer sessions, and regardless of whether it’s emotion-based or rough, it’s still wearing you both out and you can’t help but collapse in each other’s arms and drift off into a deep sleep afterwards, staying in the same position until the sun starts rising and you’re woken up to the memories of last night 

[justagirlsearchingforamuse]

I wanted to write what characters I think should’ve been romanacable or at least been able to have a one night stand with in Cyberpunk 2077 because I feel they should’ve had more options tbh. I will talk about what kinda missions they should’ve had for the characters were romanceable and how their relationships should’ve developed or could’ve per say.

1. Jackie Welles

First and foremost, I believe Jackie Welles who a lot of people want to romance believe me I can see why but I feel that if you wanted to keep his death in there, I could see V and it wouldn’t matter if what gender you were confessing to liking him. V is realizing that he’s dying right before them and is begging him not to go whilst putting pressure on his wound, Jackie cups their cheek before apologizing and giving them the chip. V manages to say that they love him and whether it’s platonic or not it’s up to you especially if you talk to other characters such as Judy, Panam, & River. You can talk about your relationship with Jackie as being somewhat like unrequited love, if you have the guts and the balls to you can even tell Misty that you had these feelings for him. But it’s gonna slightly bring down your relationship with her, she’ll express how she wasn’t surprised and how she noticed it. If you choose to end yourself in the final mission, depending on if you saw Jackie as a love interest you’ll end up saying how you love Jackie and how you can’t wait to see him. Even kissing the necklace and putting it on yourself before it all ends. But if you managed to keep him alive, I’d say that you’d be able to have a threesome with him and Misty cause honest to god I thought that’s what the developers were hinting at with the fucking ;). If you would manage to pull off such a feat you’d have to collect all of the tarot cards, do all of Misty’s missions as well as Jackie’s which I might talk about more in depth in future posts. Depending on how you’ve been treating them both which is well I hope, Jackie will bring you back to his apartment and talk about your relationships as well as your sex life. It eventually leads to Jackie whispering in your ear about how would you feel having a threesome with them, you can answer according to how you’re feeling. If you say yes then Misty will soon come into the room and she’ll sit right beside you, touching you and kissing on your neck whilst Jackie kisses you. If you guys would want me to write a Misty/V/Jackie smut or go into more depth about it then just send an ask in my ask box.

I’d like to imagine that if you manage to keep him alive up until the very end, he is with you when you visit Alt and when the bad news comes, you’re both pissed and it’s even to the point of Jackie nearly breaking down in tears. Jackie begins to blame Johnny for this, getting pissed at him and Alt, saying this should’ve never happened to V. Johnny can choose to argue with him or try and talk Alt into more options. Depending on how you played V, you can get a scene where if you choose to take over V’s body then V will end up confessing to Jackie saying how it’s the end for them and how sorry they are for this happening. V can even kiss Jackie and apologize once again before saying a tearful goodbye to Jackie. I’d imagine that Jackie would want little to nothing to do with Johnny not just because he believes it’s his fault for taking away his best friend but because everytime he sees Johnny he sees V and it breaks him every time. Jackie can break up with Misty sometime after the incident and is seen just living life with Mama Welles but he’s always thinking of V. If you choose to sacrifice Johnny, depending on how you treated Jackie and Misty you can end up in a polyamorous relationship. Though you all are trying to do your best to manage this, your relationship is pretty decent with them both.

I believe that you couldn’t romance him without Misty being there or I feel that he would never break Misty’s heart to date V or cheat on Misty with V because he doesn’t give me those vibes. If anything he’d seem to be against cheating, but I’d like to imagine if you’re a dick and whatnot that you’d be able to try and romance him but he keeps pushing you away if you end up being too touchy or romantic with him. So naturally he’d be quite hard to romance that’s if you include Misty. He is bisexual/pansexual and should be able to be romanced no matter your gender. Also, he gives me bottom vibes or power bottom vibes.

2. Johnny Silverhand

Personally I believe that you’d be able to romance him slightly towards the end of the game, like I imagine that if you manage to get on his good side and get him to trust you as well as remaining non romanceable to other people. I’d imagine that it’d all really depend upon the endings really, like you’d able to confess to him or kiss him in all of the 5 or 6 endings. You can confess in both of the main endings, it goes the same with you crying and saying how he’s one of the bestest friends you’ve ever had and saying how he really impacted your life. You can choose to kiss V or to hug them in a totally platonic way, as Johnny you can choose to say whether you liked them or whether you just wanted to give them as kiss as being able to recognize their feelings for him. Johnny in the Temperance ending will talk to Steve about V vaguely saying about whether he had feelings for them or how they were an amazing friend. He can even say kiss the necklace that V always carried with them before saying something like, “I won’t forget you, babe.” if you chose to make it where Johnny began to develop feelings for V. V in the ending if you had feelings towards Johnny, you can see that she tells that to her Life Coach or whatever if you are a Corpo V and she’ll confess that she liked him, saying how she’s been missing him a lot lately. As much as I’d love a Johnny and V sex scene that I’d be able to imagine in the game, I can’t see sex happening, maybe making out but Johnny seems like the kind to really become angsty at the idea of not being able to actually feel you. But I’d imagine if you could by some miracle would be able to get him to kiss you early on in the game then I’d say it’d be a lot of making out and Johnny getting off of you. Feeling as though he has nothing to offer you or that he hates not being able to actually feel you. But basically a romance with Johnny Silverhand and V would be angsty af or would be short-lived, sorry guys. Also, Johnny is bisexual so it doesn’t matter what gender you are. Though I do like the idea of an ending where you choose to spend your final days with Johnny whether it’s having sex (in some way), doing stupid shit, or just being in each other’s presence, I feel in this ending he’d ask you if you’d want him to take over your body before you go, if you say yes you can kiss him before telling him to take care of them. But if you say no, then he just spends his and your final moments just laying on the bed and staring into each other’s eyes.

He is bisexual especially from how much he regrets not fucking or getting with Kerry back then but he goes give me heavy dom vibes but at the same time he doesn’t seem to care as long as he’s getting some.

3. Viktor Vector

He’d also be bi, I feel that most of the romances are bi/pan or are gay such as Judy. He gives me bi nerd vibes though as well as I am a tired bi vibes. You should’ve been able to romance him in game or at least have something with him tbh. I feel he’d have about 4 quests which should lead to a romance, once you pay Viktor what you promised he’ll say how he thanks you and will text you a quest which would probably be something like being his boxing partner or something. i feel his quests would have to do a lot with him reliving his younger years of boxing or just doing what he’d call stupid shit with V, I can imagine that the quests would be V getting Viktor to do things he usually doesn’t do. In the final mission, I’d imagine that he’d come to your apartment or he’ll text you about having dinner and some drinks or even the final date being after the last mission you guys both did which was dangerous, something that resulted in you being checked up on by Viktor. Depending on if you’ve been playing your cards right, I can imagine him finishing up on your wounds or whatnot and you end up being the one to confess that you’ve grown closer to him, you caress his cheeks and he ends up telling you to shut up and he kisses you. It leads to you both making out on the chair before you end up on top, you caress his cheeks once more before kissing him again and he in between kisses says how you need to be more careful with your wound. You snarkily tell him to shut up and you kiss him again before it fast forwards to some cute yet steamy sex with plenty of Viktor trying to be gentle on you. Though I’d imagine if you were Male V/Non-Binary V he’d be a little less gentle on you or the roles would be reversed in the mission before I’d imagine in the mission before he either took a bullet for you or you took a bullet for him. He’s a little less gentle with you and a huge tease towards you whether you’re fem’ V or male’ V. He’d play a bigger role in the ending if you romanced him, I feel similar to Panam he should have his own ending or at least a secret ending where it ends with him just trying to take care of you in your final moments. He is there with you along with Misty and Jackie if you managed to save him and you say your final words to them, thanking them for being there forever and always with you. Viktor takes off his glasses and ends up kissing you before nearly breaking down in tears as you begin to slowly fade away from this world, muttering how you’ll never forget them. Viktor ends up wanting to keep his business, wanting to try and help people if he can with you always on his mind and he ends up becoming a big thing, He always is thinking of you, even adopting a child who takes after you with their mischievous personality. It ends with him gifting your child with the necklace that Jackie ends up giving you, beginning to tell your child the journey that you went on that he witnessed. He gives me strong bisexual or maybe even gay vibes tbh. Also, gives me major switch vibes.

4. Goro Takemura

Of course everyone loves him, I do too just not as much as some do. I feel a romance should’ve formed or he should’ve had a few sidequests that would lead to more of a romance. His side quests should’ve been exploring the city with him as well as him just trying to find people who can help V with the chip, 2 or 3 of the quests are you and him exploring the city and helping him learn about Night City. Even learning more about his past and him learning more about yours, which could lead to you both having a romance. Realistically speaking I feel there wouldn’t be a sex scene, so sorry but I feel he’s the kind to want to want things to get more serious and whatnot before considering having sex. He gives me very much if you like it then you better put a ring on it vibes. I can imagine on their last quest which I can see being an expensive dinner date that Takemura keeps insisting on paying for but you choose to because you want to see his face twist in pleasure at the amazing food. I imagine he takes you to an expensive restaurant and once you say all the right things, you can grab Takemura’s hand and take him to his car in which you’ll end up making out with him heavily and before you can get his pants off. He pushes you off, insisting that he doesn’t want to move too fast with you and that he’s enjoying the relationship he has with you he just doesn’t want to give that up yet. But I can imagine if he lives he plays a bigger role and even gets his own ending or plays a big role in the endings where you choose to follow after Hanako, he keeps telling you that you’re doing good and that you made the right choice. I can imagine if you romanced him/kept him alive he’s the one trying to convince you to do the final test/experiment to keep you alive. i can see him playing a good role if you manage to keep him alive and if you romance him, overall I feel he’s bisexual or demisexual. He gives me strong demisexual vibes and or bicurious vibes. Also, he’s a bottom/power bottom and I’m leaving it at that.

5. Kerry Eurodyne

He should’ve remained bisexual tbh, I get it wanting gay rep but also don’t do bi erasure, I see him as bi leaning more towards guys but he’ll be happy to date fem’ V as long as they play their cards right. I feel he should’ve been a more serious option or could’ve been more serious, I feel in the first quest or 2 you have to make a good impression on him and show him you’re down for whatever. Show him that you will make an impact on him and that you’re different, during the first few quests which I can see are just helping him with fans who have no boundaries or helping him get rid of his writer’s block and get back into music. I can imagine the first quest he is calling you anxious about a bunch of fans out in his driveway which you can try to convince them that this isn’t right or knock the fans out which the latter can have Kerry a little distant from you. Thought if you don’t manage to convince them they might try to get violent if it means Kerry would come out, which results in Kerry coming out and helping you I’d imagine he’d need someone who can handle the crazy lifestyle that he has, the fans, handle all of the crazy shit that is in his life. I feel the love scene would happen all the same to be honest and would happen after you finish all the quests and show great interest in becoming more. I’d imagine that he wouldn’t play that big of a role but he’s there and often texting you about random ass shit and he’s honestly just enjoying having some company. Also, he gives me power bottom vibes or a switch who likes to talk a lot of shit and tease you, lol.

6. River Ward

I would talk about River Ward who is my favorite love interest in the game tbh but I feel I’d be repeating what I’m saying for Kerry, River should’ve been bi imo or maybe even bicurious and Male/Non-Binary V is his first boyfriend. The love scene could be different in which I feel he’d be the bottom this time, he’d be trying to tell you to go easy on him and saying how he hasn’t done this before. Honestly it’d be just a fluffy love scene with River and he gives me total bi or demisexual vibes. Also, he is a total switch but he is dom more than he is submissive.

Also, this should go without saying that I feel that you should be able to go on a date that is a sidequest with them or even be able to call them and plan dates out with your respectable partners and you can go to bars and food places or even your own place. It’d be nice to have that added in the game but it’d be a lot to do.

Alright so I promise to do girls next and I am totally down to writing about what should be included in Cyberpunk that could improve the game greatly, cause honestly I feel that the story is great and immersive but it’s everything that happens outside of the story that is kinda not done right. Also, send me asks about these possible scenarios such as a Takemura and V dinner date quest, lol.

[wizkiddx]

heyheyhey idk if u do req but love your dad tom stuff! PLZ PLZ do tom helping his kids with homework but cant do it and reader has to help and its all fluffy 😩💕

ye im down to do req and this had me going completely ott cos its v cute (and a lot less angsty than what ive written recently aha) so apologies for my ramblings:

Summary: tom has the kids for a day and maths homework throws a spanner in the works - tomhollandxreader

implied smut + v slight reference to porn but basically just fluff I promise xox

\\\\\\\\\\\\///////////

Tom had dealt with a lot of whining today. Nova and Leo were the absolute joys of his life, there was no doubt about it. Of course, he also loved you a hell of a lot too - sometimes to his detriment though, hence the position he was in now. 

You’d had a busy week at work and he had been away for the first half of it - leaving you as an almost single mother to a 5 and a 7 year old. So completely fairly, you’d asked if he wouldn’t mind watching the kids for a the day on Sunday, allowing you to go to a friends baby shower. There was no answer but to agree, Tom loved quality time with the kids and he wanted you to kick back and relax with you friends too. 

However the afternoon had not been nearly as idealistic as it were supposed to be in his head. You had left him only one real job (apart from the unavoidable essentials of keeping the kids alive with food and water, something you’d hope he need not be reminded about now). Really it shouldn’t of been that hard, it was just each kid had two pieces of homework. After convincing and cajoling the kids into sitting at the table which he’d already set up with Nova’s ‘Liverpool FC’ and Leo’s ‘captain marvels’ pencil case, the English was easy. 

In fact 5 year old Leo took great joy out of writing a poem with his Dad, which basically involved trying to rhyme any word with another - especially when he tried to convince Tom that all his completely fictitious words were real and worked together. A personal favourite had been ‘snakes’ and ‘palakes’ which Leo was convinced meant pancakes - arguing so vehemently Tom almost started to doubt himself on basic English. 

Thankfully though his eldest and most sensibly child eventually took him out his misery. If anyone had any control over the Holland boys, Leo and Tom - it was the Holland girls. You and Nova had both boys completely under you spell, often taking advantage of the fact too. It was only when Nova got bored of hearing Tom and Leo mock arguing, interspersed with the little boys giggles that Tom tried his absolute hardest to keep a straight face at, that she swooped in.

“Stop being silly Leo, mummy told you he’s not good at school!” She looked oh so innocent, eyes immediately flicking down to continue the little short story she was happily going on with. In response  Tom scowled, knowing your highly curious and intelligent daughter had asked you (for one reason or another) why he was not so academic. Yet instead of Leo bursting out laughing, instead he just nodded and accepted it too - making Tom scowl even more. Not even Leo thought it was a joke. 

So apart from his children apparently taking pity on his simple mind, it was all going smoothly. Perhaps, due to the thankful fact your children had inherited their brains from their mother - something Tom was forever thankful for, until he was shamed for his substandard intellect in the family. Then again though, he was Spiderman. So take that. 

Until Nova brought out her maths sheet. Then the afternoon quickly descended into chaos. It was fractions, something she hadn’t quite grasped from school yet - a concept that still hurt her head somewhat. Normally though it’d be fine, she’d bring the sheet to you and the two of you used ‘ girl power’ to figure it out… you prior experience as a tutor while in uni helping you know how to break through to her. 

Unfortunately Tom didn’t share this same experience. Nor did Tom share a maths qualification… something that had evaded him completely during his schooling career. Of course, it had never been a particular issue, acting didn’t require the use of maths and algebra and Tom was in a very lucky position of being able to pay someone to manage his finances from a very young age. So no, dividing 2/3 and 3/7 didn’t come the most naturally to him. Or at all to be quite honest. 

“I CANT DO IT AND GRACE IN MY CLASS COULD!” For context, Grace was one of her school friends, who forever liked to compare herself to the young Holland - especially because she was normally ahead. Nova had gone from quiet frustration, staring at the questions with her tongue sticking out slightly, to one of pure rage - yelling at her dad with tears in her eyes. Nova was normally incredibly intuitive, she always found it difficult when she couldn’t do something. Now, with a ‘teacher’ who was more useless than her - the frustrations inevitably bubbled over. 

“Hey, we can work it out, just calm-“

“YOU CANT DO IT EITHER YOUR STUPID “ She was just young and frustrated, Tom tried not to take it personally but … it wasn’t always easy. Chiefly because this was the height of offensive statement Nova knew - this was her version of adult explicit language. 

“Nova you can’t be rude.” He used his stern voice, something Tom very rarely used with his little girl. Though he never wanted to upset her, neither did he want her to think it was ever okay to be so rude to anyone like that- no matter how crappy at maths they were. It hurt him to do so but it was necessary - life lessons about the importance of being kind needed to be learnt. And it worked… if what Tom was aiming for was his beautiful baby girl’s eyes to brim with sparkling tears, her bottom lip quivering slightly. 

Instantly Tom’s eyebrows drooped, trying to fight his natural reaction to scoop her onto his knee and reassure her everything was okay. But as you had lectured him many a time before, he had to put his foot down once in a while. So instead, the father and daughter were locked in a silence and intense eye contact, until Nova hesitantly began to speak. 

“I’m sorry Daddy.” During which, Nova shoved her chair back, making it screech against the tiled floors uglily before running off up the stairs. Tom knew she was crying a lot. Knew this was going to take a bit of fixing. 

With a sigh of his daughters name, Tom popped his head into the living to check on Leo who had already finished all his stuff. Seeing him completely zombified in front of ‘paw patrol’ on TV, Tom trudged up the stairs. He knew where she was, when Nova was upset she always hid in the corner of her wardrobe and cried in the darkness. So after steadying himself with a little internal monologue of how to approach the situation Tom walked in and sat down beside the wardrobe - knocking on the door slightly. 

“Nova… can we talk please?” All he heard was sniffing echoing from the wooden chamber until she tried to shout through the door.

“Go-go… go away daddy.” It broke his heart, the way her voice wavered, making Tom pout - gently letting his head fall against the wardrobe doors. 

“I don’t want you to be upset beautiful…. And you did apologise which I appreciate. You know why Daddy got angry right?” Her sniffles heightened before she muttered a quiet ‘yes’. “And you are sorry? Because that might’ve made me really sad too.”

“I’m s-s-sorry, I didn’t mean it.”

“Then that’s good and we don’t need to cry. You want a cuddle little one?” Before Tom could even properly get up the door was being pushed open by her little hands, revealing a tear stained face and big glassy eyes looking up at her Dad. Swiftly Tom scooped her up and out of the cupboard, whispering to her while she buried her face in his chest. 

“Oh come here my little bean.”

//////////////////////

When you came home late that evening, only mildly exhausted from spending the whole day gossiping with your girls, it was weirdly quiet. All the lights were out in the front room, which made you close the door gently, thinking Tom had managed to exhaust the kids - and himself in the process. With a relieved sigh at the peace you pattered into the kitchen to get yourself a drink (it had been a little concern that Tom would’ve worked the kids into a hyperactive and delerious state that kept them up long past bedtime - which ultimately you’d have to deal with). The house was remarkably silent and though it was clear from the littered toys everywhere that it had indeed been Tom alone in charge, everything seemed pretty okay. 

It was only as you were about to head upstairs to join your hubby in bed that you realised the study light was still on, streaming through the small crack in the doorframe. Assuming Tom had just neglected to turn it off, in otherwords Tom being Tom, you nudged it open with your hand. Surprisingly though, there was your husband, hunched over the desk, looking almost angrily focused - between the computer screen and a piece of paper below him. Normally you would’ve just assumed it was another script sent over or an edit Harry had sent of another screenplay they were writing together. 

But no, the blatant red flag was the screen that you could see. A screen on YouTube, of a man pointing at a whiteboard of fractions. 

So with a soft wrist you wrapped your knuckled on the side of the door, even if you had technically already entered the room. The reaction had you stifling a laugh, it was as if you’d caught him watching something *less PG* the way he jumped out his seat, closing the browser immediately. 

“Love!! I -er … didn’t know you’d got back?”

“I just did.” You smiled gently, while walking into stand behind his chair, wrapping your arms round his neck and pressing a kiss to his jaw. “Soooo…. what’ca doingggg” The glee in your voice was evident, making Tom groan and shut his eyes. 

“I hate you, you know that right?” 

“No you don’t… but you were watching a primary school video on fractions, if I’m not so mistaken?” He sighed deeply, making a point of turning the paper with his scribbles over to obscure it. 

“Nova’s homework.. she couldn’t do it and neither could I, so then she basically screamed at me for being thick and udseless and then had a breakdown.” 

Now you felt guilty. This was a bit of a sore spot with Tom, he always for some reason felt inferior because of his academic ability. Which was stupid- mainly because he was the most clever and talented man you’d ever met. Just…. Just not at fraction. 

“Oh T… you could’ve just left it for me to do with her, I don’t mind.”

“That’s not the point Y/n.” He snapped a little, shrugging your arms off him and spinning in the chair so he could face you. “She’s my daughter and I should be able to help her! It’s not like it’s that hard, it’s just I’m unbelievable thick.”

“Tom stop. Look - you can do this I assure you, it’s just been a long old time ‘kay? Your rusty and that’s only natural.”

“I really don’t think I could ev-“

“Can I teach you? It’s just the method and then I promise you’ll get it.”

It took a bit of persuasion but eventually Tom agreed, letting you pull the corner chair forward to beside his desk so you could demonstrate it to him. To be fair, he really could do it- just a bit of familiarising on the ‘stick-change-flip’ method. The way the lightbulb moment literally caused his face to light up; scurrying to do the question for himself, tongue sticking out in the process; then presenting it to you proudly - well it had you melting in your seat. 

“See! That took all of 5 minutes and you got it.” You elbowed  his side by leaning forward in the chair, which instead of letting go, Tom reached and caught, before pulling you up and round. You landed with you bum perched on the edge of the mahogany desk, Tom now stood up- his legs in-between your parted thighs - your feet hooking round the back of knees. 

“It’s all down to my incredibly talented teacher.”

“No…. No I really don’t think it is” You mused with a soft voice, fingers instinctively going to the nape of his neck - twirling the little curls round your fingertips. 

“Well even so… I think I could teach you a thing or two too.” Never one to mull on anything, Tom’s tone had immediately switched to something a lot more… mischievous. 

“Not even going to ask about my day? Wheres the chat mr smooth?” He had to repress the grin at your smirk because as much as you infuriated the hell out of him - you also had this weird ability of making him feel so entranced and helpless. He relented with a sarcastic chime.

“Fine, how was your day love.”

“Good…. but I have a feeling you’re about to make it a whole lot better.”

That was all the signals he needed to lean forward, in doing so forcing you back until your back landed completely on the cool wood. His lips feathered yours, both hands pinned either side of your head.

“Oh darling… you have no idea.”

[arhvste]

MIYA ATSUMU - LITTLE MIYA

- summary - atsumu has to make sure that he’s the favourite parent to your unborn child and takes every chance he can get to convince them to pick him - fluff - x f reader

- an - this was for tsumu’s birthday but i was a little late posting due to unforeseen circumstances, but i’m glad i finally got it up, happy birthday tsum tsum i love u lots and thank u for being a character that i not only kin but have easily fallen in love with in a way too

-

Sighing, Atsumu dropped his bag down and quietly took his shoes off and left them neatly by the door. The quiet hums of cars passing by outside your house reached the setters ears as he peered down the hall and noticed your bedroom light was still on.

The light was dim but he knew you’d likely have been reading or busying yourself some other way and you’d probably drifted off into a light sleep by now.

He shook his head and smiled thinking about how you’d always try and stay up for when he’d come home but you’d almost always end up falling back asleep.

Creaking the door open wider from where you’d left it slightly ajar where the dim light had been teasing the darkness of the halls of your home, Atsumu quietly stepped into the bedroom and began to shed the clothes he’d worn after taking a shower at the training grounds and into his boxers and white t-shirt. He would often take showers at the MSBY training grounds much to Sakusa’s delight as the latter would insist Atsumu’s stench was “unbearable” after training sessions (Atsumu was adamant that Sakusa only said this to wind him up but showered anyway), he also didn’t want to wake you up with the noise of water hitting the hard marble flooring in the bathroom and the sounds of the shower rinsing him.

Some may consider Atsumu a selfish man but it was small things like this that proved that hypothesis wrong. It was the little things Atsumu did out of habit that made him lean more towards the selfless side rather than selfish but it wasn’t like the two of you particularly cared about others perceptions of himself and your relationship. You knew Atsumu and you loved him the way he was regardless of what anyone else had to say about him.

He pulled the soft white sheets back and the mattress dipped as his weight rested down as he turned on his side to face you.

‘An angel’ he thought to himself as he brushed a few stray hairs out of your relaxed face before he managed to tear his eyes away and look down towards your stomach.

A smile crept up on his face as he crawled further down the bed until he was face level with the centre of your stomach.

“Hey little man, or girl.”

His soft whispers grew excited as he began to chatter to your stomach.

“Ya must’ve worn ya mother out today, she’s completely knocked out ya gotta go a little easy on her sometimes.”

His hand now moved to the beginning of the curve where your stomach stretched out to form a bump where your child was currently conversing with their father.

“Anyways, since I know what trouble you were causing today let me tell ya what I did today- oh yeah sorry I forgot, don’t get too mad at me will ya?”

Atsumu quickly pressed a ‘hello’ kiss to your stomach. He would always kiss both you and your stomach hello whenever he was met with you again insisting that the child would feel neglected if he left them out.

“Omi was in a bad mood this morning but would ya believe he said I’m gonna be a great dad?! I’m pretty sure it was a backhanded compliment since he did say ‘You’ll be a great dad, your kid is gonna love having a stupid and childish father they can call a friend.’...Do ya think that was backhanded? I think it was but he still admitted I’ll be a great dad so I guess I’ll take it.”

Rubbing small circles on your stomach Atsumu’s eyes twinkled as he felt a small kick, the action ever so slightly hitting against the palm of his hand.

“I knew ya were gonna agree with me! It was totally backhanded! I guess that's Omi for ya! Speaking of, I think yer gonna like him. If ya gonna be anythin like me, you’ll enjoy annoying him so I think he’s hopeful that ya gonna turn out like yer mother if anything.”

He glanced up at your sleeping form and smiled warmly. The thought of having a small version of himself excited him, but he also liked the idea of having a small version of you. He wasn’t sure if he’d be able to handle an overexcited and non-stop child if they were to take after himself. Besides, he loved everything about you and he was sure that raising a small version of you would be a dream.

“Ya know, I have a feelin ya gonna be more like yer mom. She’s great and I know yer gonna be too. Obviously yer gonna be talented I mean, I’m yer dad! Of course yer gonna inherit my good looks and athletic talent but if ya don’t wanna play sports that's okay too! I know yer gonna have the talent for it though so the choice is yours!”

Finding out that he was going to be a father was one of Atsumu’s greatest achievements he’d insist. It was always in his plan for the future to become a dad and he was over the moon when you’d revealed that his efforts hadn’t gone to waste and that later on in the year, he was going to have a little Miya to help raise. Of course he wanted his child to get into sports. He was introduced to the industry at a young age and it had bagged him a career he loved, friends and bonds for life and a generous salary. At first, he was sure that his child was going to play volleyball. How could they not? Their dad was the setter for V-league team MSBY and recently scouted for the Olympic team. He had his sights set on raising a future champion but then he thought back to his own brother.

Osamu had been successful athletically too but looking where that took him, Atsumu saw that even though his brother had the capability to go professional and maybe even play in the same teams as him, Osamu found passion elsewhere and these days he was the owner of an extremely successful company in the food industry.

They’d both started at the same point but ended in different places and that was okay. It was then Atsumu began to tone down the insistence that his child was going to be a pro player just like him and he was more focused on helping his child find something they loved whether that was sports or something else and help them grow and go further in doing something they loved just like he had done.

You were extremely proud of your husband when he told you about this. You knew he’d realise it eventually but you were surprised at just how quick he’d been able to rethink the future of his child and reflect on how he was going to raise and support his them. Atsumu knew he wanted his child to be successful somehow but he had finally come to realise that it didn’t have to be athletically but rather anything your child wanted to do. If they did end up taking an interest in sport, great, but neither you or Atsumu were going to push it onto them just because their father was a pro athlete.

“Who knows, maybe you’ll even end up like yer uncle Samu and take up cookin. I’m sure he ain’t gonna mind if we take ya to his restaurants or stores to teach ya a thing or two. Yer gonna be more like me than him though got it? I don’t need him teasin me sayin that yer more like him and that ya like him more than me yeah?”

Another soft kick met his warm palm and he let out a soft scoff and aimed a harmless glare at your unborn child.

“Oi! Uncalled for! I know I can be a little rude sometimes, but I ain’t gonna let yer end up like me in that sense! Yer mom would kill me if she found out that yer manners were like mine back when I was a kid. Ya better not be annoyin either. Nana Miya will probably tell ya a few stories about me and uncle Samu and how we used to get on her nerves with constant bickerin and fightin.”

A soft laugh drifted from him as yet another soft kick was sent Astumu’s way.

“Alright, alright I’ll stop layin inta ya, just promise me you’ll be good for yer mom while I’m training and stuff? She’s the best and yer gonna love her so much I promise. I hope yer gonna love me just as much too because not to cheat, but yer mother and I have a little bet over who the favourite parent is gonna be so I’m not saying ya have to pick me but I am tellin ya now that yer obviously gonna like me more cause I’m gonna be the best dad ever for ya.”

His warm, calloused hand rubbed over your stomach as he carried on chatting to your child as if this was casual conversation to him.

The warm temperature on your growing stomach caused your eyes to flutter open as you registered it was in fact your husband who was touching and talking to you while you were unconscious.

“Tsumu? What are you doing?” Your eyes and voice heavy with sleep as a lazy smile traced over your face.

Atsumu looked up and hummed before meeting your half lidded eyes as he gave you a toothy grin.

“Just tellin our kid how I’m gonna be the best dad.”

“You little shit! You’re cheating, you can’t tell the baby to pick you as their favourite while I’m asleep that’s not fair!”

“Yeah? Well I bet ya tell our kid to pick you as their favourite while I’m at training! Ya have all day to convince them! I gotta make up for my time lost.”

You fought the smile that was trying to break out onto your face as the petty argument with your husband continued with him sitting next to your stomach and you leaning facing him.

“That’s not true, I would never play dirty!”

“Baby, yer a Miya now, playin dirty comes with the name so I know yer lying!!

His hand still rested on your stomach as his eyes lit up as yours widened. Yet another small kick was felt as a smug smile wiped across your husband's face.

“Ha! Even little Miya admits yer a liar!”

You huffed and playfully gared at your own stomach and then your husband.

“Snitches get stitches.” You poked your stomach gently as if to retaliate to your growing baby.

“Hear that? Yer mom’s mean! That’s why I’m gonna be the favourite!” Atsumu declared with a triumphant smile as you laid back down to rest your head on the pillow.

“Yeah yeah we’ll see… I’m gonna go back to sleep. Tsumu, I love you.”

Atsumu crawled back over to you and pressed a soft kiss to your cheek and whispered a ‘good night’ and ‘I love you’ before padding back over on all fours to your stomach before meeting it eye-level once more.

“So back to what we were talking about before we were interrupted…”

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[murderdaddymayhem]

Trapped - Mark Hoffman x Reader [NSFW]

Hoffman has feelings for Strahm's fiance. Now that Strahm is dead, you struggle with returning those feelings just for the night.

Set in between Saw V and VI. Please visit the ao3 link for full tags.

“Hey. You left something by the coffee machine.”

You look up, and see Detective Hoffman holding your engagement ring. “Oh,” you smile. “How do you know it’s mine?”

“I guess I look at your fingers a lot,” he jokes, tossing it to you. You slide it back on.

“Do you? How’s this one look?” You playfully flip him off, and he manages as much of a chuckle as the stoic man ever could.

“I’ve sure seen that one more than the others.”

You return the ring to your finger, sliding it on and sitting back down at your desk.

“We’re going out for drinks tonight,” Hoffman mentions, “Wanna come?” You normally wouldn’t join the rest of the officers after hours, but you had been making more of a solid effort to go out and enjoy yourself now that the initial sting of Peter’s death had subsided for you. You tilt your head. 

“Is Lindsey gonna be there? Matthews?”

“Yeah. Sing, Tapp. Everyone’s going.”

“Sure. I’ll be there,” you nod.

“Great.” He looks like he wants to say something else, and eventually closes with, “Don’t work yourself too hard.”

You look down to the paperwork on your desk, and back up to return with a quip, but Hoffman’s gone. You spend longer than you should looking out your door, mindlessly counting the number of steps it takes him to get back to his own office as if you hadn’t already memorized it.  

Mark sits down at his desk. He’d always had a thing for you. He’d been jealous of Strahm, not only in his stellar reputation with the guys, but of his pretty wife and his perfect life. Mark may have seemed like the handsome hero everyone dreamed of, but in reality, he was a pitiable alcoholic whose sole personality trait was mourning.

If you ever did return his feelings, it would probably be because you pitied him for the loss of his sister, which hurt more than the bindings John had put him in that first day of initiation. He only wanted one thing, really. Maybe two, the first being justice. True justice. As for the second, it's not viable to have you in the position he's in, but his tendency to run from his emotions is being put to the test by your acceptance of his invitation. 

 When you get to the bar you and everyone at the station frequent after work, Hoffman’s sitting there. Within a half an hour, it’s become apparent the others aren’t coming... and were never coming.

“You invited me out under false pretences,” you say, accepting your drink of choice from the bartender with a nod. “Why?”

“I told you, the others didn’t show.”

“I work for the FBI, and you’re a detective. You’re honestly trying to lie to me?”

Hoffman considers this, purses his lips. “Not very well thought out on my part, I guess.”

“What, did you want to talk to me about a case?” you ask. “Something about today’s paperwork?”

“You know I don’t want to talk about that crap. I wanted to ask you how you were,” he corrects you, taking another generous sip of his second double vodka of the night. “All these months later. Treat you to a night off.”

“Oh,” you nod. “Right.” You’re quiet for a moment. “I’m okay. I haven’t really said it out loud yet, but I think I am.” You debate opening up, but you know he’s also lost someone, so you take a chance. “I feel bad when I forget him.”

“Yeah. I know how it feels to forget. My sister was a huge part of my life, and I never thought I could. And I can’t. Difference is, I try to forget.” You stay quiet, ruminating on the reminder of Mark’s dead sister. He didn’t talk about her often for that reason you suppose, but everyone who knew Hoffman knew he was the way he was because of her death. “You’re not wearing your wedding band,” he mutters, starting in on his third drink.

“I lost it,” you whisper.

“Like you lost it by the coffee machine today?”  

You avert your eyes down to your lap. “Maybe you’re not the only one who tries to forget.” Silence passes between you as you explain. “Looking at it opens up old wounds. Keeping the past in the past is my way of dealing with it. He’s gone. If I think about how awfully he died, how scary his last seconds were, it’ll be like it happened yesterday... and I’ll have to start the process again.” You shove your hand down into your pocket, unwilling to study your bare ring finger any longer. “The past is as tangible as the future, detective. If I can’t feel it, it’s not there.”

“You think denying it’s gonna help you in the long run?”

You frown, looking up at him. “Nobody’s denying anything.” Blinking as if in slow motion, Mark gets up and tosses money down for the two of you. He takes your arm and leads you out of the bar, into the cool night air. Confused and more than a little angry, you jerk your arm away. “Why did you invite me for drinks?”

“I wanted to offer my condolences. Again.”

“Bullshit. It’s been 4 months and you haven’t once said you’re sorry he died in one of John Kramer’s sick traps. I know you two weren’t close, but why wait this long? What do you really want?”

“I don’t want anything.”

“Look me in the face and tell me one thing tonight that isn’t a lie,” you demand. Mark turns to you fully.

“Okay. I want to fuckin’ kiss you.”

You hesitate. That was the opposite of what you were expecting. You try and find words as Mark stares at you with that dark gaze, those eyes that seemed to linger in your mind now that you were lonely and no longer trapped under the weight of a lacklustre partnership.

“So? What’s stopping you?” You can never tell what’s going on behind those eyes; he guards his feelings and he guards his secrets. You know he has more secrets than the average man, but he’s a detective. How bad can they be?

“You want me to kiss you?” he murmurs. “Tell me exactly what you want me to do.” He advances, walking you back against the brick wall of the alley no doubt filled with the scum John had him abduct for his games. “Huh? You want me to kiss you how you’re used to? Kiss you like it’s an obligation? Like it’s what people expect me to do?” Your eyes start to prick with tears as Hoffman brushes your hair out of your face. “You want me to tell you I love you like a man who’s only true obsession is a serial killer he couldn’t begin to understand?”

“Hoffman, Peter—”

“Don’t say his name,” he mutters, “You’ll cut the wound wide open again, sweetheart.” He presses his lips against yours, and you feel your body release all of its tension. He kisses like Strahm’s antithesis—like he knows what he’s doing. He’s rough and he’s present, nothing like how you’d imagined the cold detective would. Peter had tried, but as much as he wanted to be, he hadn’t loved you as much as that damn case. Hoffman adversely seemed to care about anything but, even though he was in charge of it. You used to think everything was a façade for Hoffman, that appearances were everything. Façades have to crumble sometime.

  By the time you had arrived at his apartment with him in the passenger’s seat, the full effects of the detective’s four double vodkas had set in. He tries to maintain his sense of self until the elevator, then down the hall and into his place.

“Shit,” Mark grunts, sliding your jacket off, “I want you.”

“No you don’t.”

He licks his lips. “Wanna bet?”

“You’re drunk, and we’re colleagues,” you mutter. “You’re gonna walk into work tomorrow morning and you’re not going to be able to look me in the eye.”

“What, after taking you on every surface of my apartment?” he mutters, lips dipping dangerously close to your neck. “Your pussy isn’t gonna shock me. Yours isn’t the first I’ve seen, but it’s sure as hell on my list.” You try once more to push him off, and he tries to stand wearily. His brown eyes blink a few times, and he shakes his head. “Fuck. Sorry.” He lets go of you, backs off. You realize your mistake, and take him by his lapels.

“Are you?”

He looks back up at you, and through your shared gaze, he sees his own arousal reflected in your eyes. His lips are back on you, finally touching your skin, and his hands roam under your top, up to cup your breasts and paw for the hooks of your bra.

“Around the back,” you whisper against his lips. In his drunken state, Hoffman misinterprets this to mean you want to be turned around, and you find yourself pressed against the wall as his hands massage your ass. A moan slips from you as you try to reach back. “I meant the bra.”

“Fuck,” he repeats again, slightly slurred, and reaches up to take it off of you. It drops down one arm, and Mark turns you around again to take your top off and release the garment from your sleeve. “This is what I’ve been fuckin’ missing?” he mutters, half to himself. “God damn gorgeous.”

“Tell me more?” you ask coyly, wrapping arms around his neck. He growls, picking you up by the ass so your legs can wrap around his hips.

“You don’t even wanna know the shit I fantasize about with you,” he mumbles, grinding himself between your legs.

“Wanna bet?” you volley back his line with a grin, and he scoffs, working down your panties as you reach a hand forward to tease him through his business casual pants. The feeling of his bulge grounds you in the reality that yes, Mark Hoffman does want you back. He wants to fuck you in his apartment, and he wants to do it now.

“I’m drunk, but I’m not drunk enough to tell you that, honey.” He presses a soft kiss to the curve of your jaw and slides your panties off, dropping them and rubbing his fingers back up your thighs and beneath the plush seat of your ass. His fingertips are oddly rough, for a detective who hasn’t seen field work in three months.

“What’s your secret, Hoffman?” you ask, and he uses one hand to stroke up the column of your neck.

“Gonna have to fuck me to find out.”

The two of you move over to his couch, Hoffman attempting to lift you over. His state tells you this is a bad idea, so you just pull him by his tie over, and push him down on the couch. He seems to like your show of control, eyes roaming up and down your body as you stand over him. “This feels a little unfair,” you whisper, lifting a hand up to squeeze your breast. Hoffman tears his eyes away from the action.

“What does?”

“Look at you,” you gesture to his fully clothed form, “And look at me.”

“Oh, I’m looking,” he nods, reaching down to squeeze himself. You get between his legs on the couch with a huff, and take over, unzipping his pants and giving him a better squeeze through his boxers. You can feel how hard he is, how large his bulge has grown. He grinds up into your hand, makes no move to undress himself any further.

“You’re selfish,” you mutter.

“I never said I was a nice guy,” he replies.

“You’re a detective.”

“Gray area.”

“For what?”

“My hobbies.”

“Which are?” You sit back on your heels for a moment. Hoffman seems to realize he was about to let something big slip, and your curiosity only grows as he cuts himself off.

“Shut up, will you? And kiss me.”

“That’s my line,” you groan, unbuckling his belt and sliding it out.

“I stole it.”

“You steal a lot?” you probe, hoping to uncover that elusive secret.

“Like I said,” he mutters, face still stone cold. “I’m not a nice guy.” You moan as he pulls you down against him, and moves his hand down to uncover his cock in a smooth movement of his hand. He groans as it grazes against your thigh and up to your pussy, and you lean down to kiss him again. His large hands reach up to your smooth naked back, clutching your body to his as he deepens the kiss. Your breath mingles as you pull away, vodka in his and the mint of chewing gum in yours.

“Condoms?” Mark reaches beside him to the coffee table, and pulls open a packet. Reaching between you two and keeping you held up with the ease of a strong bicep, he doesn’t break eye contact with you as he rolls one onto his shaft—the feeling alone of his own hand on himself is enough to make him moan, but he keeps it together. You lift up to position yourself.  “You’re sure you want to do this?”

 “I’m ridiculously hard for you,” he replies, eyes half lidded and lips parted. “I think if you left me now, it would be the first time in my life I’ve cried.” You roll your eyes, and he sits you down on his cock. Your eyes roll back. He looked big when he first took himself out, but it was nothing compared to the feeling. He’s stretching you all the way to the base, hands tightening on your arms. He rocks up once, and you whine his name softly. “Can you move?” he whispers, slurring his words.

“Yeah.” You start to rock down, and his breath hitches. After a moment, he reaches his hands further back, feeling your ass and groping it before sliding them up to your lower back to guide your movements.

“So good,” he mumbles, “Never knew I wanted you... this fucking bad.”

“When did you figure it out?” you smirk, gasping as he hits deep.

“Today, at the office.” His eyes slip shut. “I looked at you sitting there, and wished your picture was on my shelf instead of all the bullshit awards I don’t fucking deserve. One thing that means something to me, that I don’t have to tempt fate to get. That’s all I want. That’s all I need. Just someone else. Just someone else.”

You can’t think of a response. To save him embarrassment in the morning if he, by some miracle, remembers this conversation, you don’t reply. You’re afraid you’ll scare him off if you reciprocate the sentiment, and you’re terrified you’ll offend him if you coddle him. Then again, he could mistake your silence for apathy. Even in his impaired state of mind, Mark seems to realize what’s running through your head. He pulls you down against his broad chest again to put all these thoughts you had no business thinking while getting fucked to bed.  

Still, he offers no tender explanation of his confession, no further apologies or bashful take-backs. He only increases his pace, grunting as you start to feel your climax build.

“I wanna feel you cum all over me,” he growls, “Fuck. Fuck, let me feel it.”

“Hoffman.”

“Use my name. Use my fucking name—”

“Mark.”

“Ah,” he hisses, trying to make himself last. “Good girl. Good girl...” You squeeze around him, riding him back and forth, your clit grinding against his pelvis and your ass slamming down into his thighs. He lets out sharp puffs of air, wrapping one arm around you and tightening it. You feel as though you’re as close to the distant man as you’ve ever been as he breathes your name into your hair, burying himself in it as he buries his cock the deepest it will go inside of you and stills.

You’re both almost there, and the formality between you dies.

“Mark—I’m gonna cum,” you breathe desperately, “Don’t stop!”

True to character, Hoffman doesn’t offer any verbal encouragement, but his body language is worth a thousand words. He bites your earlobe, reaching down to rub your clit in circles. The action makes you gasp, and you brace yourself on his chest as your orgasm finally hits in waves. His hips convulse inside of you as he finally lets himself finish with you, and your grunts and groans meld together into a harsh symphony of panted out breaths.

“You moan so pretty, babygirl,” he sighs. A warm flush rushes through your body at that, and you’re not sure why. This needs to stay a one night’s stand, not some workplace romance the two of you can giggle about behind closed doors. It would only be a liability to both of your careers in the force,  and you know Mark will agree once he sobers up in the morning.

“Stop thinking,” he groans. His voice is gravelly, sated. “Hey. Stop. More importantly, stop guessing what I’m thinking.”

You stare down at him, eyes dancing between his. Your voice comes out barely louder than a whisper. “What are you thinking?”

“Absolutely nothing. Which is what you should be thinking of too, after we both fell into bed together.”

He seems to grow uncomfortable with the close eye contact, feels as though you’re reading him like a book. He moves your head down, where you lay there on his softly rising and falling chest. His steady breathing makes you think he’s fallen asleep, but his eyes are wide open. He stares up at the ceiling as if he was staring up at Peter Strahm again, watching the walls close in on the agent and crush his bones as he himself sunk into the ground safely entombed in glass. He swallows, imagining how your bones must have crunched in on themselves as you crumpled to the floor receiving news of your husband’s death.

His fault.

John’s fault. Jigsaw's fault.

No.

His fault.

He thought acting on his feelings and sleeping with you would make him forget Strahm ever existed. Instead, it felt like Strahm was the one in that box, watching the walls close in on Hoffman as every shitty thing he’d done in his life came closing in on him. Hoffman feels his heartbeat pick up desperately, but talks himself down as he did every night. He listens to the rhythm of your breath, tries to meditate to it.

You don’t have the problem of hyperactive thought at the moment—you had taken Mark’s advice, and calmed down. It’s okay that you had moved on. It’s okay you had found comfort in someone else’s arms, and it’s okay that it’s Hoffman. Despite this, one singular question seems to bounce back and forth in your head as curiosity digs its nails back in.  

 Your finger traces a pattern in the rug below the couch... the pattern of a puzzle piece.

[watchmegetobsessed]

Serendipity - Part V. (Harry Styles)

a/n: so this is it, this is the end of the story of Lis and Harry! if you are still reading this thank you for sticking around till the end and an even bigger thank you to those of you who took the time and energy to send me their thoughts about the story!! i hope you liked it, and if you’d like, pls come talk to me about the story, my askbox is wide open!!

pairing: Harry x OC (Annalise Lloyd)

word count: 13.9k

SERIES MASTERPOST  ⚫️ my masterlist  ⚫️  come and talk to me about Serendipity!  

Serendipity (n.) Finding something good without looking for it.

Lis decides not to change their plans and let Benji stay at her parents’ for the next week as well, giving her and Harry some more alone time that they surely use to the last bit. These two weeks are enough to make him think about a possible, preferably near future when they get to spend every day together like this, where he can come home to her already cooking something or just lounging on the couch, when they don’t have to pack overnight bags whenever they want to spend the night together.

He can only hope Lis is feeling the same way about them, because now he is determined to make it a reality.

The next few weeks go over their head faster than they could realize. Benji spends some time home before he leaves for a week of camping, something he has been so excited about, rambling about it every possible given time.

Though Harry would love to spend that week again with Lis, but it’s painfully interrupted with a trip to LA he just can’t put away. His new album is debuting in August and tour will kick off in October, things are starting to pile up and he can’t get everything done from London, no matter how badly he would want that.

He has been torn, with the tour slowly but surely coming up, because part of him can’t wait to get back to performing, but another part is breaking for how he won’t be able to see Lis or Benji whenever he wants to. He wishes they could just come with him, but he knows it’s not possible.

He tried his best to mess around with the dates so he can come back to London as much as possible and at the end he managed to give himself three to five days off every three weeks to fly home. They talked through it all, several times, bracing themselves already for the times that were about to come.

Harry is at rehearsals this one day when oddly, Lis shows up there, something she has never done before, that’s how Harry knows something is up. Calling for a quick break he leaves the room with her, worried what it could be.

“Hey, everything alright? You’re not picking Benji up today?” he asks, knowing well at this time she should already be at the school.

“Chloé offered to do it for me. Harry, sorry for coming here, I just… I couldn’t wait until tomorrow to talk to you about it.”

“What’s wrong? Talk to me,” he tells her and taking her hands he pulls her to the small sofa in the corner so they can sit and talk. She is clearly upset and it’s starting to trigger Harry as well.

“I, uhh—I don’t know how to start it so I’ll just get straight to the point. Austin showed up at my work today.”

Harry’s breath gets caught in his throat at the mention of the name. He just put the whole Austin situation behind him, the thought was stuck on his mind for way too long and now that he was finally moving on, the dude showed up. He needs everything in him to calmly nod and encourage her to continue.

“He-He just… walked in. I swear I didn’t know anything about it, I was so shocked a-and I didn’t know what to do—Harry I—“

“Lis, calm down, alright? I know you didn’t know about it. Just tell me what happened, because I don’t know how much longer I can sit here left in the dark.”

“Right, yeah, sorry,” she breathes out rubbing her face with one hand. “He said he wanted to talk and I was just about to leave for lunch, so he asked if he could join me. I didn’t want to go anywhere with him so we ended up just sitting at the back terrace. I was so panicked and scared and couldn’t even say a word for a while, because he looked so… different.” “Different as in how?”

“Like… looking back I can tell he was in a bad shape when we were still together and it turns out I was right, because he admitted to being a drug addict. But now he was like, this new person. He said he has been clean for two years now and he wanted to find me because his therapist suggested to reach out and try to make up for his past mistakes.”

While Harry’s hands are holding hers, his eyes now move to the floor ahead of him, trying to process all the new information that’s been thrown at him.

“When I finally recovered from the shock of seeing him my anger kind of took over and called him all these terrible things, shamed him for leaving his son and all that and he just… sat there. And at the end he said that I’m right and that he understands that I feel this way about him. He said that he’s been thinking about what he did a lot and he asked me if we could meet sometime when it’s not just my lunchtime, to talk.”

“Talk about what?” Harry asks with a frown.

“He… He said he wants to meet Benji,” Lis answers in a whisper. Harry’s eyes snap back to her, his chest rising and falling rapidly. He was not ready for this and he can tell Lis feels the same way.

“What did you tell him?”

“I said that I need to think about it. He left me his number and I told him I would contact him when I have decided.”

“How did he take it? I mean, I assume he wanted you to say yes right away…”

“He seemed to understand my decision. He said he completely agrees if I don’t want to let him see Benji ever again. This was so not like him, I was afraid he would snap, like he used to when we were younger, but he didn’t. He seemed like he really went through hell since I last saw him and he is just happy to… still be alive.”

Harry falls silent, not entirely sure what to think about the appearance of Benji’s father all of a sudden, confessing to be an ex drug addict and kind of apologizing for his mistakes before telling Lis that he wants to meet Benji. It’s a little too much all at once and the more time that passes without him talking, the more he is worrying Lis.

“Harry, please say something,” she breathes out her plea.

“I, uhh—Sorry, I’m just a little… overwhelmed I guess.”

“Are you mad?” she asks in panic.

“Mad? At you? Why would I be?”

“I don’t know, sorry, it’s just been a… long and tiring day for me,” she breathes out, leaning back on the sofa, her eyes closing for a few seconds.

“It’s a lot, yes. So why don’t we talk about this when I’m done here? I can’t keep up the guys too long. I can come over to yours when I’m done, yea?”

“But you said you had some stuff to work on tonight.”

“I can push that back, not a problem. Just go, get Benji from Chloé’s, drink a tea at home and I’ll be there by seven, alright?”

Lis nods as the two of them stand up. Harry pulls her into his arms, kissing the top of her head as she hugs his waist tightly.

“Sorry to interrupt your rehearsal,” she mumbles against his chest.

“It’s alright. Don’t worry about it.”

She pushes herself up to her tippy toes and captures his lips in a sweet kiss, something she’s been aching to do all day, or at least since her encounter with Austin earlier.

“I love you,” she mumbles against his lips and those three little words instantly make him feel some kind of relief in the midst of this craziness.

“I love you too,” he smiles at her, pecking her lips gently before letting go of her and watching her walk out with one last, shy wave.

Hours later, Harry finally arrives to Annalise’s and as he lets himself in with the keys she has given him weeks ago, Benji launches in his way right away from the little pile of toys on the living room carpet.

“Harry! Harry!” The little boy smashes against his lower body, wrapping his arms around him, making his heart flutter. No matter how long or tiring his day was, being around him always makes it better.

“Hey, bud! How has school been?” he asks and leaning down he picks Benji up into his arm, holding him steadily against the side of his chest.

“Cool, we played basketball today! I don’t like it as much as football, but it’s pretty good.”

“Great,” he nods smiling. “Hi Chloé!” Harry calls out when he spots the woman sitting on the couch.

“Hi, how have you been?” she asks smiling warmly. The two of them have met earlier the summer, Chloé had been dying to meet him, especially after she started to see how much Lis has bloomed thanks to the man. They hit it off right away, but they didn’t expect anything less, since they are both so important in Annalise’s life and just want the best for her.

“Great, a little busy, but everything is alright,” he nods. “You?”

“Same, just working my ass off,” she huffs.

“Where’s Lis?”

“Shower. Told her to have a hot one, she was stressing way too much.”

“So she told you?”

“Yeah,” Chloé nods shortly, not wanting to talk about anything while Benji is present.

When Lis appears from upstairs she is wearing a hoodie and cotton shorts, her hair still wet, looking tired just like earlier, but looks a tad bit more relaxed thanks to the shower.

“Hey baby!” she smiles kissing him softly.

“Hey, feeling better?” he asks, rubbing her back gently.

“Kind of.”

“Alright, I’ll head out now. Call me whenever, alright?” Chloé tells, hugging her goodbye, doing the same with Harry as well.

“Thank you for today,” Lis tells her walking her to the door.

“Anytime. Good night, guys!” she calls out, Benji shouts her bye after her and then it’s just the three of them again.

Nothing is said about Austin until Benji is put to bed. When Lis closes his room’s door and walks into the living room, Harry is sitting there, the TV is off and he is staring ahead of him, deep in his thoughts.

“Hey,” she softly says, cuddling to his side on the couch, his arm instantly curling around her shoulders.

“Benji is knocked out?” he smiles softly and she nods. “Alright.”

There’s a short silence, neither of them knows how to address the situation, how to start the conversation that has to be brought up.

“So…” he quietly starts. “I assume you’ve been thinking about what Austin asked you.” “Haven’t really stopped thinking about it,” she sighs, pushing herself up so she can look into his eyes as they talk.

“And where did you end up?”

“I… don’t know, Harry,” she sighs in defeat. Though it’s a torturous situation, Harry knows he needs to be mature and reasonable, keep his jealousy far away, because it’s way more than just that.

“What are the things that make you want to say no to him?”

“If I let him meet Benji, I can’t have him do the same thing and disappear. Benji will remember it, unlike last time. I can’t risk him having such a major trauma.” Harry nods at her words.

“And do you think he’ll leave again?”

“Honestly?” she asks quietly and Harry nods again. “I feel like he was genuine. But that could mean nothing, I’m not naïve enough to think that I know him. Maybe I never did,” she adds in a whisper and Harry can feel his heart break.

He hasn’t been able to come to peace with everything Lis had to go through. In his book, she deserves the world yet she had to deal with living hell, raising Benji on her own because Austin didn’t feel like taking responsibility for his own child. If only Harry knew her then, he would have made sure to give her the world, because that’s what she deserves.

“What do you think about it?” she asks, snapping him out of his thoughts about her.

“About what?”

“Should I let him meet Benji?”

“I’m not sure I have a saying in it,” he truthfully answers, but Lis tilts her head to the side, eyebrows slightly furrowed.

“Of course you have, Harry. You are my partner and a very strong influence in Benji’s life. I value your opinion and I want to make this decision with you.”

Harry can’t push the smile back, her words mean the world to him, to know that she trusts him completely and entirely, that’s all he ever wanted.

Though jealousy is burning inside him to tell her he wouldn’t let Austin have even just a glance at Benji or her again, he knows it wouldn’t be his honest opinion. He knows how important it is for a little boy to have his father around even if he has missed out on the first years of his life and Harry only wants the best for Benji.

“I think that… you should give him a chance.”

“Really?”

“Yes. He deserves a second chance and you said he is willing to cooperate and do anything you ask him to. You can have a control over the situation, that’s the best case scenario.”

“I feel like, and tell me if it sounds stupid, but I think maybe I could ask Benji himself, if he even wants to meet him. I know he is just a kid, but I feel like he can have a great understanding of the situation to have an opinion of his own.”

“It’s not stupid, Lis. I think Benji is very smart and he’ll handle it just fine.”

“Maybe we can have a chat with him in the morning.”

“You want me to be there?” he asks surprised.

“Of course. I told you, you’re my partner, in everything,” she smiles before leaning closer to kiss him sweetly.

That night, when Lis is already fast asleep Harry is still awake, staring at the ceiling, mind racing about everything he learned today. He has never thought he would ever have to deal with Austin and deep down he wishes he just stayed wherever he has been all this time, but on the other hand, he doesn’t want to take away the chance from Benji to know his father. It feels like life has sent him a reminder that no matter how much he cares about that little boy and Annalise, he is not the father of Benji and he is not the one that connects Lis and her son on such a sacred level.

He barely hears the creaking of Benji’s door and his little feet tapping on the floor. When he pushes Annalise’s bedroom door open Harry sits straight up, alerted that something must be wrong.

“Harry?” he whispers shakily.

“Hey, Buddy. What’s wrong?”

“I had a bad dream. Can I sleep here with you and Mum?” he asks and Harry doesn’t hesitate to scoot more to the edge, making space for him in the middle while Lis is still asleep on the other side.

“Come ‘ere.”

Benji climbs up the bed and Harry pulls the cover over him as he settles in the middle. He only stays still for a moment before he moves closer to Harry, cuddling to his side which catches him by surprise at first. He doesn’t understand why he chose him when Lis is lying right there, but it’s a moment he surely will cherish for a long time, because he truly feels like Benji has let him in.

Wrapping his arm around the boy he lets his head sink back into the pillow, gently rubbing Benji’s back until they both finally fall asleep.

When Lis wakes up a little later she is surprised to see that it’s now not just the two of them in bed, but when she realizes that Benji is all cuddled up to Harry’s side, her heart flutter in her chest, feeling her eyes watering as she watches the two of them sleep so peacefully.

As if Harry could sense her gaze on him, his eyes slowly flutter open and he glances at her with a sleepy gaze, eyebrows slightly furrowed.

“You alright?” he whispers, his eyes falling closed again.

“Yeah. I just…” Exhaling softly, she leans over and kisses his slightly puckered lips gently before pressing one to Benji’s forehead as well. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he mumbles back before he slowly drifts back to sleep. Lis gives herself a few more minutes just admiring the two sleeping figures next to her before she lets her eyes close as well and fall back asleep.

A week after Austin’s first real appearance Lis meets up with him alone while Benji stays with Harry. Though they talked to him in the morning, explaining to him that his dad is in town and would like to meet him and Benji seemed fine with the idea, Lis wanted to sit down with Austin and talk in more details before letting Austin see his son.

Harry takes the boy to his rehearsal and Benji manages to charm everyone just as usual. The band adores having him as their personal audience, especially because he makes sure to clap and scream joyfully following every song they play. He makes the best of friends with Mitch, finding the quiet man the most entertaining with his guitar and he even asks the man to teach him a few chords which he gladly does.

After rehearsal Harry takes him out for icecream before they head back to Annalise’s and though Harry has been enjoying his alone time with Benji, he can’t help but anxiously check his phone every five minutes, looking for any sign from Lis, but none of his notifications are from her, unfortunately.

“Harry?” Benji speaks up when they arrive home and Harry keys them into the house. Benji sits down to the floor to get rid of his sneakers but struggles with the straps of it so Harry squats down to help him.

“Yes?”

“Do you wear ties?” he asks, his question coming from the blue.

“Sometimes. Why do you ask?”

“Because my teacher today said that we would have to wear one on our graduation in year eight. But I don’t think I want to.”

“Why not?”

“Because it looks tight,” he simply says, making Harry smile as he helps him up from the floor.

“You can make it as tight as you want, don’t worry about it,” he tells him and Benji nods smiling, satisfied with the answer he got.

“Will you come to my graduation?” he then asks and Harry comes to a halt.

“In grade eight?” he questions and Benji nods. “Do you want me to be there?”

“Of course,” he nods confidently, his answer warming Harry’s chest right away.

“Then I’ll be there,” Harry tells him and it’s a promise he hopes to keep along the way.

Harry makes him a sandwich and they move up to Benji’s room to play with his dinosaurs, getting really into the game. Benji loves playing with Harry, because he always gets so into character, roaring and making weird noises, the little boy finds it so entertaining and fun, he often begs him to do impressions of different animals.

Harry doesn’t even hear the front door open and close when Lis finally arrives. After kicking her shoes off she walks up the stairs, following the noises and animalistic grunts that could only come from her boyfriend. Stopping at the door she watches them play before making her presence noticed.

“Your T-Rex impression is getting better, H,” she tells him as she walks into the room and leaning down presses a kiss to Harry’s lips, then to Benji’s head.

“I’ve been practicing a lot, thank you very much,” he smirks. “Benji, do you mind if I go talk to your mum a little? I promise we’ll play some more after.”

“Sure, it’s fine,” he nods, busy with pretending he is invading a city with his action figure.

Harry gets up from the floor and he and Lis move down to the kitchen to have some privacy and not bother Benji with what they are about to discuss.

“So, how did it go?” Harry asks as they both sit at the kitchen counter.

“Surprisingly good. He was very respectful and open. He went into a little more details about his addiction and going to rehab. I felt a little bad that I never really noticed that he was struggling with such things, but he said it was not my fault and he was damn good at hiding it for a long time. Then he asked about Benji, I showed him some pictures and told him that I’m okay with him meeting and slowly building up an environment that’s good for everyone, especially for Benji.”

“So he took it well?”

“Yes, he seemed very grateful and… just overall very open to whatever my decision was.”

“That’s great,” Harry nods, telling himself that it’s something to celebrate, but the bitterness of jealousy has started to bubble inside him once again. “So what’s the next step?”

“Well, I obviously want to be there when they meet first and I thought that we could have a picnic next weekend in the park. I already promised Benji we would go feed the ducks, so I thought I could combine the two things. What are you doing next Sunday?”

“I have a meeting in the morning, but I think I’m fine.”

“Then I would love to have you there as well,” she smiles softly.

“You sure? I don’t want to intrude.”

“You’re not,” she simply answers and leaning forward she kisses his lips chastely before hopping off the stool. And with that, it was settled.

Benji would meet his dad in a week.

Harry hates that he imagined a low-life, garbage looking weird guy when he pictured Austin. He is such a judgmental mess, but this was his way of calming his conscience through the days leading up to Sunday. But now that the man is standing just down the little walkway in the park, watching them get closer, the picture he imagined is getting thrown into the trash, because Austin looks… normal.

He is tall, around Harry’s height, dirty blonde hair that looks a little outgrown, but it’s not critical just yet. Now that he is seeing the man, he can actually see some traits Benji has gotten from him, his forehead, the curve of his upper lip and the shape of his face is undeniably Austin’s. Harry has never had problem with seeing exes of his girlfriends, he was confident enough to put any image aside, but right now, as he is staring at the man who fathers the child he adores so much, he can’t push down the thoughts of Lis and Austin together while Benji is holding one of his hands, his other clutching onto his mother’s.

Austin smiles wide, waving in their way as he takes a few steps towards them.

“Hi! I was worried I was at the wrong pond,” he chuckles softly, clearly nervous about this meeting, but that makes the four of them. Everyone is fighting a different fight right now.

“Sorry, Benji spilled tea on himself so he had to take a quick bath,” Lis apologizes while the boy in talk just stands there, staring up at Austin curiously. Just like the first time he met Harry, he doesn’t seem startled by a stranger, more like inquisitive.

“S’ alright,” he shrugs before his eyes move from Benji to Harry and he sticks out a hand for him. “Nice to meet you, Lis told me a lot about you. I’m Austin.”

“M’Harry, nice to meet you too,” he nods strictly, shaking his hand with the one that’s not holding Benji’s.

Austin then squats down to get to Benji’s level, a proud, touched smile tugging on his lips as he is inspecting the boy in front of him.

“Benji, hi. I’ve heard so much about you too. I’m so happy to see you!” he breathes out as the boy stares back at him, hands still clinging onto his mother’s and Harry’s.

“You’re my daddy?” he simply asks, the gears in his head turning as he is processing the situation.

“I-I am. But you don’t have to call me that, if you don’t want to.”

“Then what should I call you?”

“My name is Austin. You can call me that.” “Okay,” he nods before turning to his mother. “Mummy, are we feeding the ducks now or what?”

Lis chuckles at how forward Benji is and that the ducks seem to interest him more than his father.

“Sure, let’s go.”

Harry is like a hawk, watching every move of Austin through their time together. He is ready to jump into action if he sees the smallest warning sign, but none is showing. Austin is treating Benji with the best of intentions, simply enjoying his time with his son, making sure this meeting doesn’t take an upsetting turn.

Sitting on a bench with Lis, the two of them are watching as Benji is throwing another handful of cut grapes they prepared together this morning, the ducks launching at them excitedly, Benji laughs when two get into a fight for a piece. Austin is squatting next to him, holding the Tupperware as Benji keeps grabbing the grapes. He is having a blast and though Harry is not sure if he entirely understands what this meeting means, he knows that Benji is enjoying his first time seeing his daddy and that’s all that matters.

“Hey,” Lis grabs his attention, her hand squeezing his knee gently. “You alright?”

Harry turns to face her, forcing a smile to his lips as he nods.

“Of course.”

Lis knows him better than to believe his act. Leaning closer she kisses him lovingly to completely grab his attention from the man standing at the pond.

“You know, whatever happens with Austin, Benji will always love you in a special way and no one can take that away from you.”

“You think so? That he loves me?” Harry asks in a whisper. He hasn’t spoken his thoughts about being accepted by him yet, especially not to Lis, but now he just can’t keep his feelings bottled up.

“Of course,” Lis nods confidently. “I know it seems like he is a very outgoing kid, but he doesn’t trust anyone that easily, he is just good at being friendly. But it’s not just that with you anymore. I know that he thinks of you as one of his best friends and that’s a huge thing.”

“He is my best friend too,” Harry smiles, his eyes darting over to the boy who is now doing a little victory dance after hitting a swimming branch in the pond with one of the grapes. He can’t imagine his days anymore without at least thinking about him. Harry has always been great with kids, but this is his first time spending so much time with one and sometimes he is catching himself thinking about Benji as his own. He would do anything for the boy and to think that there was a time when Lis didn’t even want him to know about Benji is now just ridiculous.

“I know this is a weird situation for all of us, you included, but I want you to know that I’m so thankful for everything you’ve done. I wouldn’t have been able to do it without you.”

“You are taking away credit from yourself,” he smiles at her softly. “You’ve been doing great without me before we met.”

“I was making things work,” she corrects him. “But now… I’m happy too.”

Harry breathes out, savoring this moment and imprinting it into his memory, because he surely wants to remember it forever. Leaning closer he kisses her slowly, making sure he doesn’t get carried away too much because they are out in the public and people have been staring at them, but for a few moments, it’s just the two of them.

At the end of the day Lis agrees that it’s been a nice start and they settle with another time when Austin would see Benji. The boy clearly enjoyed his time with his dad and it’s a promising sign for Lis that she has made the right decision. Austin is clearly thankful for the time he has gotten with his son and he can’t wait to see him again and Harry can only hope his excitement and enthusiasm won’t disappear anytime soon.

September flies by filled with times for Benji spent with Austin. The man becomes a regular person in his life and as the weeks go by, Lis starts to trust him more and more with the boy. He starts to actually act like a father and treats Benji right, finally giving him the chance to feel like all his peers that have both their parents.

While things start to settle in their life, something is clouding over the calmness. Harry is set to leave for tour on the first weekend of October and he has had quite a few trips this month as well, forcing himself to go back to his old ways in life. He had to realize he has gotten way too used to being in London and not having to leave for more than just two days and now it’s making his transition back to his touring schedule even harder. It feels like he is about to tear into at least two parts as he is trying his best to do everything he needs to in his career but also stay present for Lis and Benji. Some days are easier, when he has the chance to mess around with his appointments, appearances and interviews, but some are making him want to scream from the top of his lungs when he is still on the road at midnight and can’t make it back to Annalise’s because he doesn’t want to wake her up arriving so late.

She is taking it easier than him. Or at least tries. After having Harry as her rock for so long, she knows it’s her time to shower him with understanding, patience and all her love, making sure he knows that she’ll stick around no matter what.

Two days before he is set to fly out to the States, Chloé takes up on Benji duty to give the pair some alone time before Harry heads out. They spend most of it cocooned in his place, eagerly making up for the time they’ll be forced to spend apart. It’s hard on the both of them, but they also know it’s inevitable and Lis knows Harry moved everything in his power to make his tour as airy as possible so he can come home to her. Though she would love it if he just stayed, she doesn’t want to sound ungrateful and ridiculous, thinking Harry could drop his career for her.

She wouldn’t want that, guilt would eat her up alive if Harry quit what he loves doing the most, it’s just that she wishes a day had more than just 24 hours sometimes.

They try their best to make their parting as short as possible, hoping to make it feel less painful, but they end up sitting in her car for thirty minutes before Harry brings himself to get out and grab his suitcase that hasn’t been shipped out to LA yet. Lis hops out and meets him at the back of the car, throwing her arms around his neck one last time, kissing him with everything in her.

“Think of me a lot,” she whispers against his lips and he inhales shakily, eyebrows furrowed as he is forcing himself to let go of her.

“My thoughts of you never end, Love,” he murmurs, pressing his lips to hers one last time before finally letting his arms fall from around her waist.

As the plane takes off and Harry stares down at the view of London underneath him, he can feel part of him staying behind, in the hands of one particular and special woman.

Show after show, city after city, the days start to melt together for Harry, losing his sense of whereabouts. Waking up in a different hotel room every third or fourth day as he travels through the States, it’s easy to lose track of where he was, where he is and where he’ll be the next day.

Touring has always been a challenging thing for him, even after being in the industry for over a decade now. The part where he shares his music, his art with his precious fans, where he gets to see their face and sing with them, for them, that’s what he wouldn’t trade for any other job. But being on the road for such a long time brings him the most painful homesickness that’s not easy to deal with. There’re not many ways either other than going home.

The way Harry made sure to fly back home every now and then only worked for a while. Two days every three weeks is nothing compared to what they had all summer, especially when they were living together. Every time he flew back to London and then was forced to return to the States, saying goodbye was getting harder and harder. He hated seeing the pain in Annalise’s eyes every time he was leaving, and telling Benji that he wouldn’t be here next week was also torture.

Austin has slowly become part of Benji’s everyday life. He made sure to see him at least once a week, doing all kinds of activities, strictly with Lis for now. Though Benji still calls him by his first name, he is settling into the sense of having a father in his life now.

The situation was bittersweet for Harry. He was over the moon that Benji now finally had the chance to connect with both his parents, but however stupid it sounds, he was jealous. After becoming serious with Lis he started imagining himself be this father-like figure for the boy, teaching him everything he learned from his dad and step-dad. Harry had such a special bond with Robin growing up, he made it his priority to be that to Benji what Robin was to him: someone to rely on, to trust and count on no matter what.

But ever since Austin’s appearance, his feelings have been all over the place, thoughts racing every time he had some quiet moments to himself to think. Lis always told him about when they met, made sure Harry knew about everything so it wouldn’t create a mishap that she kept something to herself, however it still had a major disadvantage.

Harry slowly started to feel like he was the outsider in Lis and Benji’s life, like he was the one that didn’t really belong there while he thought the same about Austin at the beginning. The pictures and videos Lis has sent him when he was away, the times she raved about whatever activity they did that day, they all made him drift farther from the security he felt when he was back in London.

The cherry on the top is Benji’s seventh birthday at the beginning of December.

Harry made sure to have enough days off to fly home to the small birthday party Lis was having for him. She invited his friends from school and her parents were coming down to London as well to celebrate. And of course, Austin was invited as well.

But as always, things didn’t go as planned. Harry was stuck in traffic on his way to the airport so his jet left an hour later than it was planned, then they had to make an emergency landing just two hours after taking off, they had to have the whole plane checked, it turns out nothing was wrong, just a generator got a little too heated. So by the time he was officially on his way, he was almost four hours later than planned.

If things went right he would have arrived by three at Annalise’s, but this whole mishap set him back a lot more than he could deal with calmly. As soon as he touches down in London he takes his phone out of airplane mode and calls Lis right away.

“Harry! Everything alright?” she asks, the noise behind her quite loud as the party must still be going.

“Yeah, I’m so fucking sorry but I just touched down. I’m going straight to yours. Lis I’m so sorry I’m late,” he breathes out in a rush as he is marching through the terminal to the car that’s already waiting for him.

“Harry, slow down, it’s okay! You arrived safely, that’s all that matters.”

“No, I wanted to be there in time and now the whole thing will be over basically by the time I get there!” he jabbers in panic, feeling so horrible for something that was completely out of his control.

“It’s not your fault, Harry. Just get here safely, that’s all I want, alright?”

“Okay,” he breaths out sharply. “I’ll see you soon.”

“Love you,” she chimes into the phone.

“Love you too,” he says before ending the call.

It feels like the car can’t move fast enough, Harry is anxiously sitting in the back of it, watching London pass by him, dying to finally get to Annalise’s neighborhood. It’s already past seven when he finally arrives, grabbing his duffel bag from the back of the car, he sprints up the stairs and lets himself in, not bothering to ring the bell.

Music is heard from inside and as he walks into the house it just gets louder. The first thing he sees is a bunch of kids running around in the living room, playing some kind of game, a few parents chatting here and there, the remains of a cake sitting on the kitchen counter with some more snacks and drinks.

“Harry!” he hears Benji call out, the boy running towards him in a onesie that looks like a dinosaur, it even has a tail on his behind.

“Birthday boy! Hi!” he breathes out in relief as he finally wraps him in a bear hug, lifting him up from the ground. “Sorry I’m so late, did you save some cake for me?” he chuckles putting back the boy to his feet.

“Mum did, it’s in the fridge!” he smiles widely.

“Your mum is an angel,” he smiles back, just as Lis appears, holding out her arms for Harry.

“Am I now?” she chuckles before wrapping her arms around his torso, hugging him tight. “Hi,” she smiles sweetly at him before he leans down and kisses her.

“Hi. Sorry for the delay,” he breathes his apology out again, but Lis just shakes her head.

“It’s alright, I know it wasn’t your fault.”

“Did you bring me a gift?” Benji asks in excitement, jumping up and down in front of Harry, who leaves an arm around Annalise’s waist, smiling down at the birthday boy.

“Well of course I did,” he chuckles.

Benji can’t contain his excitement as Harry quickly makes his rounds of greetings to everyone, ignoring the wide-eyed looks he is getting from some of the mums. It hasn’t been a secret that Lis and him are dating, but it’s always shocking to see them in the flesh and some of the women among the guests are a little starstruck to see Harry in such an intimate and domestic setting, celebrating his girlfriend’s son’s birthday. Lis’ parents make him promise to get back to them for a chat after he gives Benji his gift and he gladly gives them his word.

Moving to the living room all the kids gather around Harry and Benji who sit on the carpet as Harry pulls out his gift from the duffel bag he brought. It was once neatly wrapped, but the paper is now a little crumbled, signs of the long way here showing on it.

“Happy birthday, Benji,” Harry smiles handing him the gift and he is about to jump right into tearing the wrapping off, but Lis stops him.

“Ah, what do we say?” she warns the boy who immediately stops and looks at Harry.

“Thank you, Harry.” “You’re welcome,” he chuckles and Benji finally gets back to the unwrapping.

“Wow!” Benji gasps as he frees the box from the paper, all the other kids chattering in excitement as they see what the present is. “Mum! Look! It’s gonna be a space shuttle!” he exclaims holding up the Lego box. Harry was a little lost about what to buy, seeing that Benji now owns every kind of dinosaur toys to exist, so he went for his second obsession: space. He ordered the kit even before he left for tour to make sure it arrives in time.

“Sounds cool!” Lis chuckles.

The kids get right down to business to build the space shuttle, so Harry frees himself from them for a while.

Unfortunately, the party doesn’t last too long. After eight, the guests start leaving since all the kids have a bedtime and twenty minutes later it’s just Annalise’s parents, Chloé, Austin and Harry left in the house. Suzan and George are in the living room, enjoying their time with their grandson, Harry and Chloé are cleaning up all the toys that ended up downstairs from Benji’s room while Lis and Austin are on dish washing duty.

“This kid has way too many toys,” Chloé grumbles under her breath when they have already made their second round up to his room. She sits on the ground, putting everything away to their place as Harry chuckles softly.

“I’ll go get the rest,” he tells her before making his way downstairs again.

Lis’ laughter hits his ears, immediately making him smile, but as he turns the corner he freezes, eyes glued to the two adults at the kitchen sink.

Austin and Lis are standing shoulder to shoulder, Lis washing the dishes while Austin is drying them in a cloth. He keeps nagging her with his shoulder, making her laugh as she whines at him to stop, pushing back at him gently.

“What? I’m not doing anything!” Austin tells her with an innocent look. They don’t notice Harry’s presence and for a minute, he feels like he is not even there physically.

Benji runs up to them, showing part of the shuttle he has built, proud of the work he did and the two of them look down at it in awe.

“Good job, Benji!” Austin tells him with a proud smile, ruffling his hair playfully. “It’s gonna look awesome.”

“Right? This is gonna be the shuttle that will save some dinosaurs when the meteor hits!” he explains and Lis chuckles at his imagination.

“Sounds amazing, Sweetie.”

Benji runs back to the living room, eager to work more on the shuttle, but Harry’s attention is still on the pair in the kitchen.

“I’m convinced he got his patience from you, Lisie. I could never build that thing,” Austin tells her and Harry flinches at the nickname. Are they now this close? Using nicknames?

“I won’t argue with that,” she nods in agreement.

Harry’s stomach churns as he watches them. He knew they’ve been spending a lot of time together because of Benji, but this was just way too close to his liking. But it’s not that Harry thinks she would ever cheat on him. It’s more about the tainting thought that they look like a real family.

For an outsider, they are just a normal couple, parenting their son and seeing them so domestic and close got Harry thinking thoughts he definitely shouldn’t.

What if this is what Lis wants? What if he is keeping them from finally being a family? What if he is the only reason why Benji doesn’t have the picture perfect family?

The thoughts pains his chest and he forces himself to look away. He gathers the last toys in silence and brings them up to Benji’s room as he and Chloé finish up with everything.

Soon enough, everyone who is not spending the night at the house leaves. Lis takes Benji to the bathroom to give him his bath and Harry finds himself sitting at the kitchen island, blankly staring ahead of him, the picture of Lis and Austin burning into his mind.

He hears voices upstairs and he knows she is putting him to bed. Once it becomes silent again footsteps are heard from the stairs and a few moments later two arms curl around his waist from behind.

Lis kisses him between his shoulder blades as he glances over his shoulder.

“Hi,” she smiles, resting her chin on his shoulder from behind.

“Hey,” he breathes out and turning around in her arms, he leans his back against the edge of the island. “Bed time went okay?”

“Yeah. It’s been a long day, he got tired of all the excitement,” she chuckles.

“M’sorry I couldn’t be here earlier,” he apologizes again, but Lis shakes her head at him, just like she did before.

“It’s alright, Harry. Don’t work yourself up about it. You flew across the globe to be here, a little delay is nothing you should be worried about.”

Her words mean well, they are the truth, yet Harry’s tired and darkened mind twists them so easily.

It doesn’t matter because they had Austin here before he arrived, he tells himself, but doesn’t say out loud, keeping the thought to himself.

“You alright?” she asks, her fingers dancing over his jawline until they swipe across his bottom lip. “You’ve been so quiet.” “Just… tired,” he tells her with a small smile that doesn’t match his eyes.

“When do you have to leave?”

“Monday morning, but I promised my mum I’d go see her tomorrow.”

“Are you coming back after you meet Anne?”

“Do you want me to come back?” he asks before he could think, the question taking her by surprise.

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”

“No reason,” he replies with a small head shake. “I’m really tired, can we go to bed?”

“Sure. You go, take a shower and I’ll put away the leftover snacks,” she tells him pecking his lips shortly before letting go of him.

That night, Harry lies awake in bed, Lis curled up against his side, sleeping soundly. He can’t escape his haunting thoughts about Austin, he keeps seeing that little scene in the kitchen, making up more and more that might have happened while he was away. It’s clearer than daylight that Austin is finally claiming his role as a father, but Harry never thought about what it could do to him and though Lis didn’t give him any reason to think this way, he just can’t help.

This feeling is weighing down on his chest heavier than anything, his thoughts are racing, flashing him pictures he shouldn’t be thinking about. Hours pass by and Harry spirals into unwanted depths. He forces himself to close his eyes and eventually, he falls to a shallow slumber, but his last thought breaks his heart with a snap of a finger: His fear of being a homewrecker, what he thought himself to be when he first met Lis now feels realer than ever.

Harry’s ears still ring a bit as he makes his way back to his dressing room, his high still lasting from his show that ended just minutes ago. He keeps thanking the nice words he is getting on his way, his usual smile plastered across his face, but it hasn’t been truly genuine in a while now.

There are just two more shows left before he is going on a break for the holidays, flying back to the UK for more than just a few days. The UK leg starts at the end of January, giving him about a month worth of break before he hits the road again and travels through Europe.

He should be over the Moon that he is finally going home again, but it’s bittersweet. Ever since Benji’s birthday he has gone downhill about his spiraling thoughts about being the reason why a family is not together. At nights, he finds himself tearing up, thinking about Austin and Lis rekindling their romance and finally become the family they were always supposed to be and the thought always leaves him heartbroken.

He hasn’t been able to get his head straight and he knows he should talk to her, be honest about his feelings, but he just can’t get himself to do that, the fear of getting an answer he has imagined already is crippling.

A knock is heard on his dressing room’s door and a moment later Jeff pokes his head inside.

“Hey, great show tonight,” he says giving him a thumbs up as he walks further inside.

“Thanks,” Harry nods as he gets rid of his suit jacket, hanging it up on the rack that holds his other tour outfits he has been switching between.

“Have you talked to Annalise about New York?”

Harry closes his eyes shaking his head no. Not long after Benji’s birthday, the idea of flying Lis and Benji out to New York for Harry’s last concert came up. It would be on the 22nd of December, the first Saturday of winter break so school wouldn’t be a problem and since Lis has the whole week of Christmas off from work, she could make it work as well. Both of Harry’s Madison Square Garden show is completely sold out and it’s been a nice thought to have them see him on his last show of the North American leg of the tour, though Harry hasn’t been able to bring himself to ask her about it, now running out of time.

“H, I need an answer for the flights and all. Please, talk to her today or tomorrow,” Jeff begs.

“I will. It just… slipped my mind. Sorry,” Harry lies and though Jeff can see right through him, he doesn’t push it, just nods and leaves him alone.

Harry is quick to make it back to the hotel. He takes the shower he missed at the venue and then rejects Sarah’s offer to have a drink with the band in her room, claiming that he is just going to head to bed. His hair is still wet as he puts on a pair of clean boxer briefs and a white shirt before making himself comfortable on his bed.

Holding his phone in his hand, he has Annalise’s contact open as he chews on his bottom lip, trying to gather all his forces to call her. She is probably already up, getting ready for her day and Harry can picture her sipping on her morning coffee as she is trying to figure out what to wear today. The scene lives vividly in his mind, because not so long ago he was lying in her bed, watching her shuffle around in just her underwear, her hair messily falling to her shoulders, the coffee sitting on the top of her dresser. He hasn’t forgotten the warm feeling the sight brought to him, how he felt a sense of home just by looking at her so early in the morning.

But it feels a million miles away now, almost too foreign to his liking as his thumb lingers over the call button before he finally taps on it. The line rings two times before she answers.

“Hey! How did the show go?” she asks right away, her voice bright as the morning Sun.

“It went alright,” he nods to himself, sinking further down on the bed until his head is resting on the pillow. “How are you? Everything good?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, I just miss you,” she murmurs. “Benji misses you too, he asked if you’d be here on Christmas as well.”

“I miss you guys too,” he answers truthfully, because despite everything he’s been fighting, he can’t deny the love he has for the two of them.

“I wanted to talk about something with you.” “Yeah?” Harry breathes out, feeling his stomach churn.

“Yes. I was talking to Austin the other day and we were trying to figure out how Christmas would go. I told him that we’re going to my parents’ and your mum’s as well, so we won’t really have a lot of free time. So he asked if we could do something on the weekend before Christmas. He wants to make a trip to Bath, we would leave early and then come back late in the evening.”

As Lis explains the plans she has been making on the exact same date when Harry was planning to fly them over to New York, he finds himself holding his breath, tears stinging his eyes. Though it’s entirely his fault he hasn’t asked her earlier, but in a way he feels like he lost. Like she chose Austin over him and that’s what he’s been fearing all along.

“So now you’re making trips with Austin, huh?” he answers, his words sharper than he intended.

“Okay, I can hear you don’t like the idea,” she states, catching on that something is wrong, though she’s felt the change in Harry before, but she thought it’s just the busy schedule he has been on.

“Not to sound selfish, but I’m just not quite the fan of this trip while I would be on a different continent.”

“Harry, I asked you for a reason, I know it’s a complicated situation but I wanted to make sure it’s comfortable with you. If you don’t like the sound of it that’s fine, but at least you could have used a little nicer tone.”

“M’sorry for not being nice enough, but I’m just starting to lose patience, if I’m being honest.”

“Patience?” she asks. “About what? Me?”

“Make a guess, Lis. I’m across the world while you are planning trips with Austin.”

“You are making it sound like I’m going on a romantic getaway with him, but it’s a trip for him and Benji to spend time together,” she defends herself.

“It’s just that lately, everything has been about Austin,” he snaps, exhaling sharply, all his bottled up emotions slowly surfacing now.

“I—Well not everything, but I admit it’s been a big change, yes. And I’m sorry if it makes you feel bad, but this is not the way to talk about it, don’t you think?”

“Then how? Tell me how to talk about it, because I don’t have a fucking clue about what’s happening anymore, Lis!”

“Harry,” she breathes out, completely startled by his outburst. “Why do I feel like this is about something else?”

“Maybe because it is.”

“Then tell me! I can’t make things right if I don’t know what’s wrong.”

“You know…” Harry sighs in defeat, emotionally drained at this very point. “I’ve been told that sometimes I give too much. And I have a feeling that this might be the case here now as well.”

“What… What is that supposed to mean?” Annalise breathes out, tears forming in her eyes as she leans against the kitchen counter, holding the phone to her ear with a shaky hand.

“I just—I don’t think I can go on like this anymore. Feeling this way,” Harry rasps, a single tear running down his face.

“Like what?” she begs, pushing down a sob. “Harry, please talk to me!”

“Like I’m the one holding you back,” he finally says.

“From what? I swear you’re not holding me back in anything, Harry.”

“Except from having the family you always wanted.”

Lis sobs at his words as the picture finally gets clear. Everything he has said now makes sense, though she is having a hard time to understand how Harry could ever feel this way.

“Harry, that’s not true. I have the family I always wanted and it includes you! I know it feels like an impossible situation, but I know that we just need some time to make things work. If you ever think that you are less in our lives just because you don’t share the same DNA as Benji, I want you to know that it’s not true. You’ve become so important for him and especially for me, I don’t want you to doubt your role in our life.”

They are both crying, the weight of the words that’ve been just said crashing down on them. Harry closes his eyes and let’s his sobs out, not able to silence himself any longer. His chest aches and so does Annalise’s.

He wants to believe her. He really does. But it’s so hard to change the reality he’s been building up in just a moment, the distance between them surely not helping the case either. Lis wishes she was there with him, hold him and tell him over and over again how much she loves him. It doesn’t matter how things have changed with Austin, it never affected the way she is so hopelessly in love with Harry.

“I’m sorry,” he breathes out, still fighting his tears. “I just haven’t been able to stop thinking about that I’m a homewrecker. I saw you with Austin on Benji’s birthday and I felt like I wasn’t even there, like I didn’t matter.”

“Oh Harry… I knew something was wrong, but I figured you’d tell me!” she sighs rubbing her face, wiping her tears away. “Of course you mattered! Benji was so happy you were there! He was asking all day when you’d arrive and when I put him to bed he asked if I think you’ll want to rebuild the shuttle with him once it’s done.”

Harry whimpers at her words, his chest tightening even more. His consciousness is telling him to pack a bag and leave right away, fly back to London so he can hold Lis in his arms as soon as possible.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s gotten into me,” he breathes out rubbing his eyes.

“You are family, Harry. To me and to Benji as well. Nothing can change that, not even Austin. You’ve already given so much to my son, I will never be able to thank you for being in his life.”

“Fuck, I’m about to sob like a baby,” he jokes making her laugh. “Lis, I’m sorry, I’ve been an idiot.”

“You have not. Just next time, please talk to me, okay?”

“Okay,” he whispers nodding to himself.

“I love you, Harry. Please don’t ever doubt or forget that.”

“I won’t,” he promises, this time shaking his head to strengthen his words.

“You love me too?” she murmurs softly.

“Of course. I love you so much, Lis.” “Good. Now I have to go and wake Benji up. I can’t wait to see you again soon.”

“Me neither.”

In the middle of the emotional tsunami that washed over Harry, he completely forgot about asking Lis about New York and later he talked himself down to mention it. He didn’t want to ruin the trip they had planned.

So on his last show, filling up MSG for the second night, he is standing on his own behind the stage, waiting to come out. But as soon as the show kicks off, the backstage is filled with a special buzz.

Even though Harry put his plans aside about flying Lis and Benji out to New York, Jeff didn’t. When Harry didn’t give an answer about his decision he was about to take it as a no to the plans, but luckily, he decided to reach out and emailed Lis with the details of everything they had in plans. To say the least, Lis was shocked that Harry didn’t mention it to her, but she could tell it had a lot to do with that call not long ago.

She knew how much it means to Harry and she didn’t think twice before asking Austin to have their little trip after Christmas, freeing up the weekend to go and visit Harry. They fixed up everything in secret, letting Harry believe he’ll only see them when he returns to the UK on the 23rd.

Jeff helped her manage everything and they arrived to the city just an hour before the start of the show. A car picked them up and drove them to the venue and they waited in it until Harry finally stepped on stage so the air was clear.

Jeff runs down the hallways so fast, he almost knocks two people over on his way. Lis spots him before he reaches the car and she gets out to greet the man.

“Hey, he just started. Come on, you can come inside,” Jeff tells her. She helps Benji out of the car and the three of them head inside, ready to surprise Harry.

Through the whole tour, Harry liked to spice up the track list a little, randomly performing covers of songs he has been listening to lately. Tonight, he is gifting the fans with his version of Want You Back by HAIM. He practiced it with the band yesterday and every time they played it, Harry kept ending up on the left side of the stage, dancing and fooling around as usual and this is what Jeff is counting on tonight.

Harry takes a breather after his last song, the crowd screaming and clapping as he takes a few gulps of his water before walking back to the front of the stage.

“This is my last show before my little break,” he says into the microphone. “I’ve been performing different covers through this tour and tonight won’t be different either.”

The crowd goes crazy, screaming the title of the songs they want to hear the most.

“Tonight’s song is by three incredible artists and they go under the name of HAIM,” he explains, the screaming increasing once again.

When he doesn’t know is that the two people he has been missing the most are standing behind the stage, clapping along with the audience. Benji turns to his mother in excitement when he gets a glimpse of the mass of people outside in the arena. He has been over the Moon since Lis told him they would travel all the way to North-America to surprise and see Harry before he comes home.

“The song is called Want You Back and I hope you’ll like it,” he gushes into the microphone as he moves away from it to grab one of his acoustic guitars and moving back to the microphone he starts the song.

“Some things are long forgotten, some things were never said…” His voice fills the arena and Lis almost doesn’t notice Jeff’s touch on her arm. “We were on one endless road, but I had a wandering heart.”

“Let’s get you out there so he can see you!” he tells her over the music and nodding she takes Benji’s hand as they follow the man out of the backstage.

There’s a small, free space between the actual edge of the stage and the pit area, mostly for security guards, but this time it’ll be the designated spot for the two of them. As they walk out, and some fans start recognizing her, Harry doesn’t realize what is happening, he is way too lost in the song.

Lis feels a little like under a microscope as the fans around her get all excited about her presence and she is just nicely saying hello back to them before turning her attention at the man singing on the stage. Benji stands in front of her and she has her hands on his shoulders as he is jamming to the song even though he has never even heard it before.

“I said we were opposite lovers, said it from the beginning you kept trying to prove me wrong. Said you’d always see it through and I know that I ran you down, so you ran away with your heart…”

Harry is making his way to the left wing, just as Jeff predicted, getting closer to the two surprise guests, but he hasn’t spotted them just yet. He has pushed the guitar to his back as now the band is taking the lead in the song, leaving him just with the singing and dancing.

Annalise’s breath is caught in her throat as Harry stops right in front of them, but his gaze falls over them, not focusing on what’s happening at the very front. Right until he sees how most of the fans in front of him are pointing at the front of the stage.

“But I just know that I want you back, just know that—“

His singing comes to a halt as his mouth hangs open when his eyes finally fall on the two familiar frames right at his feet.

Benji is jumping in excitement, waving at Harry as Lis smirks up at him, eyes filled with pride and love, all just for him.

Harry can’t believe his eyes as he stands frozen for a few minutes, the song long forgotten as his eyes lock with Lis’. His hand has fallen so the microphone is not close enough to catch as the question How?! falls from his mouth.

“Just sing!” she shouts laughing and he then snaps back to reality where he is supposed to be performing.

He quickly recovers from his shock and carries on with the song, but his eyes keep darting back to the two of them on the left side. When it finally ends he is quick to jog over to them and get down on the floor so his face is close enough to hear what she is saying.

“How did you get here?” he breathes out, ignoring the screaming that’s filling the whole arena.

“You really thought I would choose a trip to Bath over coming here to see you?” she chuckles, his heart skipping a beat. “We’ll talk later, now go and finish your show,” she tells him stepping back as Harry jumps back to his feet.

“Sorry for the little scene, I just didn’t know my girlfriend would be here tonight,” he talks into the microphone, shocking everyone with how easily he just called her his girlfriend, basically for the first time in a public setting. His eyes move back at Lis who is clearly blushing, holding onto Benji’s shoulders as she chuckles softly.

They sing and dance through the rest of the show and Harry can’t keep his eyes off them. He hasn’t seen them in the flesh since Benji’s birthday which was weeks ago and having them there at the show is just making his chest burst from joy, especially because they chose to fly across the ocean instead of their road trip to Bath with Austin. Though Harry has managed to come more to peace with the whole Austin situation, it’s still amazing to know he matters enough to be a priority.

He has never ached this bad for a concert to be over and normally he would feel bad for wanting to escape so fast, but not tonight. He basically jolts off the stage when the lights go down, rushing past everything and anyone, until his eyes fall on the two people he has been desperate to hug all night.

“Harry!” Benji calls out, sprinting towards him laughing carefreely as he throws himself at Harry who catches him just in time, picking the boy up to his arms.

“You really surprised me, I wasn’t expecting to see you!” Harry admits chuckling softly once Benji lets go of his neck and looks at him playfully giggling.

“Are you happy we are here?” he asks in all of his childish innocence.

“I am beyond happy,” he breathes out, ruffling his hair as Lis finally reaches them. Keeping Benji in his arms, Harry leans down and kisses her, curling his arm that’s not holding the excited boy around her waist as he pulls her closer. “You sneaky little thing,” he grins and Lis just slyly smirks back at him. “How did this happen?”

“Well, Jeff emailed me asking if you’ve talked to me about the trip here and I was shocked that you didn’t even mention you wanted this to happen.” She gently smacks his chest for keeping his plans hidden from her.

“You had plans already, didn’t want to mess it up.”

“We had a vague plan, nothing was decided yet. I would have rearranged it the moment you told me about New York, but you didn’t!”

“I know, I’m sorry,” he breathes out, putting Benji down who immediately runs up to Mitch who just walked off the stage. The guy greets him warmly, squatting down so Benji can have a look at his guitar.

“Anyway, Jeff helped me to arrange everything, I wanted to surprise you.”

“You succeeded,” he chuckles before kissing her again, this time with no Benji between them.

“I thought it would mean a lot to you, especially after… everything.” She gently strokes his face, a tad bit worry still laced through her voice as she hasn’t been able to decide where they have really been standing since that one phone call.

“It really means a lot. Thank you,” he breathes out, feeling complete after weeks of suffering on his own. “I love you,” he whispers, leaning closer so his lips are brushing against hers.

“I love you too,” she smiles before he kisses her.

December 31st

“Poppy, Sweetheart, can you not undress every ten minutes?” Harry sighs at the little girl standing in front of him, only in her diapers even though he dressed her just before he went to get his suit jacket. The toddler blinks up at him curiously, curling a lock of hair around her finger while she sucks on her thumb on her other hand.

Harry leans down and picks her up, walking out of the bedroom he sees the trail of clothes in the hallway that she left. He gathers all clothing items and walks downstairs.

“And please don’t let her stay naked when she undresses, she’ll never learn to stay in clothes if you just let her roam around naked,” Lis explains to Suzan in the kitchen who nods along to everything she is saying. Her eyes fall on Harry walking in with the girl in talk in his arms. “See? Naked, again!” Lis sighs. “Poppy, it’s a little early for you to practice undressing, don’t you think?” she asks the theoretical question from the girl who is holding onto Harry’s neck now, blinking up at Lis innocently. “Although, it’s kind of a father-daughter thing,” she adds with a playful smirk, glancing at Harry, who just shrugs, so full of himself.

“I’m not denying that,” he comments. “Suzan, can you dress her please?” Harry asks and the proud grandmother reaches for Poppy without hesitation.

“Of course. Come on, Darling,” she coos, taking the clothes from Harry as well.

“You ready to leave, Love?” Harry asks, kissing Annalise’s temple. She is wearing a long, black bodycon dress that has a sparkling seam at the top and bottom, spicing it up just a tad bit.

“Yeah, just let me grab my purse and phone. Would you please ask Benji to come downstairs a bit?” she asks as she disappears in her study.

Harry hums to himself as he walks through the spacious living room where George is sitting in one of the armchairs, watching the news while Suzan is trying her best to get Poppy dressed again, even though she’ll free herself from the clothes probably the moment she is left to roam around again.

Benji’s door is open at the end of the hallway, but Harry still knocks on it before stepping inside, seeing the boy lying on his stomach on his bed, reading the comic books he got for Christmas.

“Hey, we are leaving. Come down a little, please?”

“Sure,” Benji nods, leaving the comic book open on his bed as he gets up. Harry follows his movements and catches himself thinking how tall he is getting already. When he turned ten he started growing rapidly and Harry now thinks he’ll easily outgrow him by the time he finishes high school. Lis already can’t stop complaining that her twelve years old son is starting to catch up with her in height.

“At least Poppy is still small like a bean,” she grumbled the other day when it came up again, but Harry just chuckled.

“For now. But don’t forget that she has my genes and I’m not what you’d consider short.”

“Damn it, I’ll be the shortest in the house!” she sighed making Harry laugh.

Harry fixes his collar as he heads down with Benji, Lis walking out of her study right then.

“Oh great! Benji, please keep an eye on your sister while we are away, would you?”

“Isn’t that what Grandma and Grandpa are here for?” Benji jokes.

Suzan finishes up with Poppy and puts her down, the little girl immediately running up to her brother who gladly picks her up, struggling a little under the weight of the two year-old, but he manages to hold her.

“Yes, but if she starts running around, you are going to be the one to run after her and make sure she doesn’t break anything,” Lis tells him with a stern look. Poppy has developed quite a speed in the past months, enjoying sprinting around the house. Luckily, she has plenty of space, the new home they moved into before the little girl’s arrival came with enough room for any activity for the two kids.

“Don’t worry, Lisie, we’ll have an amazing time,” Suzan grins at her daughter who feels a little adamant about leaving her kids home, but it’s been so long since her and Harry had an evening to themselves. When Griff called Harry a few weeks ago, asking if the pair would be up for another New Year’s Eve party at the pub, it took Harry some convincing to make her say yes, but she eventually did. Suzan and George were happy to take up on the babysitting duty, giving the two of them some adult time.

Lis grabs her wool coat from the arm of the sofa and puts it on as she walks over to the kids.

“Be good, listen to grandma and grandpa, okay?” she tells Benji before kissing the top of his head and doing the same with Poppy. “You too, Missy!” she tells the girl who giggles at her words.

“Missy! Missy!” she repeats after her mother, her tiny hands grabbing onto Benji’s ears who whines a bit, but eventually lets his sister hold onto them.

Lis tells some last minute things to her parents and Harry uses this time to step closer to Benji.

“Don’t tell grandpa, but you are the man at the house until we come home, alright?” he tells him and Benji nods, taking the role seriously. “Be good, we’ll see you probably tomorrow. And you little girl…”

Harry takes Poppy from Benji’s arms, the little girl chuckling at her daddy happily, her hands immediately finding Harry’s hair.

“Don’t cause too much trouble, okay? Trouble is no good,” he tells her and she adorable shakes her head at his words.

“No twouble!” She calls out, throwing her hands into the air. Harry chuckles at her, kissing her soft cheeks a few times before putting her down. Poppy runs over to George who picks her up and sits her on his lap.

“Okay, let’s go,” Lis finally says. “Happy New Year guys! See you soon!” she calls out waving around on their way out. Harry says his goodbye as well, his hand finding Annalise’s as they walk out of the house.

He gives her hand a soft squeeze, loving the feeling of her wedding band on her finger under his touch. Harry knows Lis is a little worried about leaving the kids with her parents. She hasn’t spent more than just about two hours away from Poppy since she was born, but she also knows the kids are in great hands with Suzan and George. After all, they raised her as well.

The pub is packed by the time they arrive, but Griff immediately spots them as they walk through the door.

“Aye! S’ my favorite couple!” he calls out, hugging them both at the same time. “So glad ya could make it! No kids?” he jokes, though he knows they would have brought the kids to a pub to celebrate New Year’s Eve.

“No, they are home with the grandparents,” Harry smiles at his old pal.

“Alright, then let loose tonight!” Griff cheers.

The three of them chat for a little before the pub owner moves on to another group of guests, leaving Harry and Lis alone. He wraps an arm around her waist and pulls her close, his nose brushing against her ear as he speaks up.

“Last time we were here you ran off quite rudely. Are you gonna dump me tonight as well?” he teases, referring to the first time they met, exactly five years ago.

“Seeing that you’re my ride home, it’s not gonna happen this time,” she jokes and turning her head she kisses his lips shortly.

“Is that the only reason?” Harry gasps, pretending to be hurt over her answer.

“Mmm, I’m not sure it would look good on my records if I left my husband at a New Year’s Eve party.”

Harry can’t help the smile that tugs on his lips when she calls him her husband. They’ve been married for a little over three years now, yet it still amazes him that he was able to not just score, but keep the most amazing woman he has ever met.

Harry popped the big question on their second Christmas together, hiding the ring among the other gifts. Lis started crying and could barely even say yes properly, constantly sobbing, but it was definitely a happy cry. They tied the knot just three short months later, officially becoming Mr. and Mrs. Styles. It was a small and intimate wedding, but one of their photos later ended up in Vogue. At first Lis was adamant about showing such a private moment of their life with the public, but Harry managed to convince her otherwise.

“Let me show off my smoking hot wife to the world, Love!” he told him every time it came up until she finally gave up.

By the time their wedding came, they were both sure that they wanted to expand the family as soon as possible and ten short months later they were blessed with a baby girl they named Poppy. Harry has put a hold on his career when Lis reached her third trimester and he hasn’t fully gotten back to work since then, enjoying every bit of parenthood without shame. He has put out a new album last year, but it was announced beforehand that he would not go on a tour with it, not ready to leave his family just yet, but he promised to play the majority of the songs the next time he travels around the world.

The two of them mingle in the crowd, enjoying their time without any crying, food throwing or whining. It’s been so long since they last spent any time without Benji or Poppy, not that they don’t enjoy being with them, because they value every little moment, but sometimes it’s nice to set themselves free for just a night.

This sense of déjà vu lingers around the both of them all night, being at the pub is quite an emotional moment for them, seeing how far they have come from that one particular night five years ago.

When it’s nearing midnight, Harry fetches themselves two glasses of champagnes and they wait for the countdown at the exact same spot they stood back then. Harry notices her gaze on him and glances down at her with a half-smile.

“What? Is there something on m’ face?” he asks jokingly, making her laugh.

“No,” she shakes her head. “I’m just feeling a little emotional right now.”

“Emotional?” he furrows his eyebrows at her before his eyes widen. “Wait, are you… Are you pregnant?” he gasps, but Lis just chuckles at him.

“Harry, I’m literally holding a glass of champagne, you think I would be drinking if I was pregnant?”

“Right, it didn’t occur to me,” he nods.

“But… would you want that?” she shyly asks, the question has been bugging her for a while now.

“Would I want you to be pregnant?”

“Yeah.”

“Love, I would die to see you pregnant again and have another baby with you,” he answers simply, his straightforwardness surprising her a little.

“Why haven’t you brought it up then?”

“I wanted to, I was just not sure how you are feeling about it. If you’d want to even go through another pregnancy.”

“Well I do.”

“So why haven’t you brought it up earlier then?” he asks, returning the question for her.

“Because you’ve been on a break for over two years and another baby would set your career back even more,” she answers truthfully. She’s had enough time thinking about it and she had to realize she’s been feeling guilty for basically snatching Harry away from his fans, even if the majority was so understanding and nice when he announced his hiatus.

“Lis,” he breathes out turning to her with his full body. “I can make music at forty or fifty and even sixty. It’ll always be there for me. But we don’t have all the time to have another baby and I do want another, that I’m sure about.”

Annalise pouts her lips at him and for a moment he is afraid he said something wrong.

“What’s it now, Love?”

“I just love it when you talk about having babies, it makes me want to have a dozen more.”

Harry chuckles and presses his lips to hers shortly.

“I don’t know how that would sit with your lady parts, but I’m always up for some baby making,” he murmurs with a smug grin.

“Harry Styles, you never change,” she chuckles as the crowd around them starts the countdown.

“Do you want me to change?”

“No. Never,” she smiles softly, a faint blush playing on her cheeks. “So, another baby?”

“I’m in if you’re in,” he nods as the countdown reaches five, but the noises and voices are completely shut out for them.

“I’m in,” she smirks, biting into her bottom lip.

“Three! Two! One! Happy New Year!” Everyone cheers and Harry leans down, capturing her lips in a more confident way than he did five years ago.

“Happy New Year, Love,” he murmurs against her lips.

“Happy New Year,” she answers with a bright smile as they clink their glasses and drink to the new year ahead of them.

-

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