#not sure how happy i am with this. its been a hot minute since we’ve done any designs though

[dropitdoeeyes]

About time for some TTBT(v2) content, here’s Arachne from Twisted Threads :)

[ID. A digital drawing of Arachne from The Mechanisms. She stands on a grey background, shifted to one side. One of her hands is raised as if explaining something, and her other hand rests at her side, tightly clutching a newspaper. Arachne has a slightly stern expression, looking off to the side.

Arachne is a very thin woman with medium brown skin and long legs. Her braided hair is dark brown, though most of it is bleached blonde. Her hair is in a large bun, save for eight braids that flow behind her like spider’s legs. Arachne wears thin oval glasses, a white shirt with a pointy collar, medium blue blazer detailed with spiderwebs, dark blue slacks, and black shoes. She’s wearing a few pieces of jewelry, four thin bracelets and two necklaces, all in the same color. end id.]

[shuxiii]

Everyday pt. 9

Hanni Pham x reader pt1, pt2, pt3, pt4, pt5, pt6, pt7, pt8, pt9, pt10, pt11, pt12, pt13

a/n yall ask for a daerin crumb but ill apologize in advance teehee, credits ''every day'' by David levithan

Day 6007

I wake up the next morning in Beyoncé’s body.

Not the real Beyoncé. But a body remarkably like hers. All the curves in all the right places.

I open my eyes to a blur. I reach for the glasses on the night-stand, but they’re not there. So I stumble into the bathroom and put in my contact lenses.

Then I look in the mirror.

I am not pretty. I am not beautiful.

I’m top-to-bottom gorgeous.

I am always happiest when I am just attractive enough. Meaning: other people won’t find me unattractive. Meaning: I make a positive impression. Meaning: my life is not defined by my attractiveness, because that brings its own perils as well as its own rewards.

Shim Ja-yoon’s life is defined by her attractiveness. Beauty can come naturally, but it’s hard to be stunning by accident. A lot of work has gone into this face, this body. I’m sure there’s a complete morning regimen that I’m supposed to undergo before heading into the day.

I don’t want to have any part of it, though. With girls like Yoon, I just want to shake them, and tell them that no matter how hard they fight it, these teenage looks aren’t going to last forever, and that there are much better foundations to build a life upon than how attractive you are. But there’s no way for me to get that message across. My only course of rebellion is to leave her eyebrows unplucked for the day.

I access where I am, and discover I’m only about fifteen minutes away from Hanni.

A good sign.

I log on to my email and find a message from her.

Yn,

I’m free and have the car today. I told my mom I have errands.

Want to be one of my errands?

H

I tell her yes. A million times yes.

Yoon’s parents are away for the weekend. Her older brother, is in charge. I worry he’s going to give me a hassle, but he’s got his own things to do, as he tells me repeatedly. I tell him I won’t stand in his way.

“You’re going out in that?” he asks.

Normally, when an older brother asks this, it means a skirt is too short, or too much cleavage is showing. But in this case, I think he’s saying I’m still dressed as the private Yoon, not the public one.

I don’t really care, but I have to respect the fact that Yoon would care—probably very much. So I go back and change, and even put on some makeup. I’m fascinated by the life Yoon must lead, being such a knockout. Like being very short or very tall, it must change your whole perspective on the world. If other people see you differently, you’ll end up seeing them differently, too.

Even her brother defers to her in a way I bet he wouldn’t if she were normal-looking. He doesn’t blink when I tell him I’m going out for the day with my friend Hanni.

If your beauty is unquestioned, so many other things can go unquestioned as well.

The minute I get into the car, Hanni bursts out laughing.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she says.

“What?” I say. Then I get it.

“What?” she mocks me. I’m happy she feels comfortable enough to do it, but I’m still being mocked.

“You have to understand—you’re the first person to ever know me in more than one body. I’m not used to this. I don’t know how you’re going to react.”

This makes her a little more serious.

“I’m sorry. It’s just that you’re this super hot pretty girl. It makes it very hard for me to have a mental image of you. I keep having to change it.”

“Picture me however you want to picture me. Because odds are, that’ll be more true than any of the bodies you see me in.”

“I think my imagination needs a little more time to catch up to the situation, okay?”

“Okay. Now, where to?”

“Since we’ve already been to the ocean, I figured today we’d go to a forest.”

So off we go, into the woods.

It’s not like last time. The radio is on, but we’re not singing along. We’re sharing the same space, but our thoughts are spreading outside of it.

I want to hold her hand, but I sense it wouldn’t work. I know she’s not going to reach for my hand, not unless I need it. This is the problem with being so beautiful—it can render you untouchable. And this is the problem with being in a new body each day—the history is there, but it’s not visible. It has to be different from last time, because I am different.

We talk a little about Jiwon; Hanni called her house a second time yesterday, just to see what would happen. Jiwon’s father answered, and when Hanni introduced herself as a friend, he said that Jiwon had gone away to deal with some things, and left it at that. Both Hanni and I decide to take this as a good sign.

We talk some more, but not about anything that matters. I want to cut through the awkwardness, have Hanni treat me like her boyfriend or girlfriend again. But I can’t. I’m not.

We get to the park and navigate ourselves away from the other weekenders. Hanni finds us a secluded picnic area, and surprises me by taking a feast from the trunk.

I watch as she picks everything out of the picnic hamper. Cheeses. French bread. Hummus. Olives. Salads. Chips. Salsa.

“Are you a vegetarian?” I ask, based on the evidence in front of me.

She nods.

“Why?”

“Because I have this theory that when we die, every animal that we’ve eaten has a chance at eating us back. So if you’re a carnivore and you add up all the animals you’ve eaten—well, that’s a long time in purgatory, being chewed.”

“Really?”

She laughs. “No. I’m just sick of the question. I mean, I’m vegetarian because I think it’s wrong to eat other sentient creatures. And it sucks for the environment.”

“Fair enough.” I don’t tell her how many times I’ve accidentally eaten meat while I’ve been in a vegetarian’s body. It’s just not something I remember to check for. It’s usually the friends’ reactions that alert me. I once made a vegan really, really sick at a McDonald’s.

Over lunch, we make more small talk. It’s not until we’ve put away the picnic and are walking through the woods that the real words come out.

“I need to know what you want,” she says.

“I want us to be together.” I say it before I can think it over.

She keeps walking. I keep walking alongside her.

“But we can’t be together. You realize that, don’t you?”

“No. I don’t realize that.”

Now she stops. Puts her hand on my shoulder.

“You need to realize it. I can care about you. You can care about me. But we can’t be together.”

It’s so ridiculous, but I ask, “Why?”

“Why? Because one morning you could wake up on the other side of the country. Because I feel like I’m meeting a new person every time I see you. Because you can’t be there for me. Because I don’t think I can like you no matter what. Not like this.”

“Why can’t you like me like this?”

“It’s too much. You’re too perfect right now. I can’t imagine being with someone like … you.”

“But don’t look at her—look at me.”

“I can’t see beyond her, okay? And there’s also Minj. I have to think of Minji.”

“No, you don’t.”

“You don’t know, okay? How many waking hours were you in there? Fourteen? Fifteen? Did you really get to know everything about her while you were in there? Everything about me?”

“You like her because she’s a lost girl. Believe me, I’ve seen it happen before. But do you know what happens to people who love lost girls? They become lost themselves. Without fail.”

“You don’t know me—”

“But I know how this works! I know what she’s like. She doesn’t care about you nearly as much as you care about her. She doesn’t care about you nearly as much as I care about you.”

“Stop! Just stop.”

But I can’t. “What do you think would happen if she met me in this body? What if the three of us went out? How much attention do you think she’d pay you? Because she doesn’t care about who you are. I happen to think you are about a thousand times more attractive than Yoon is. But do you really think she’d be able to keep her hands to herself if she had a chance?”

“She’s not like that.”

“Are you sure? Are you really sure?”

“Fine,” Hanni says. “Let me call her.”

Despite my immediate protests, she dials her number and, when she answers, says she has a friend in town that she wants her to meet. Maybe we could all go for dinner? She says fine, but not until Hanni says it’ll be her treat.

Once she hangs up, we just hang there.

“Happy?” she asks.

“I have no idea,” I tell her honestly.

“Me either.”

“When are we meeting her?”

“Six.”

“Okay,” I say. “In the meantime, I want to tell you everything, and I want you to tell me everything in return.”

It’s so much easier when we’re talking about things that are real. We don’t have to remind ourselves what the point is, because we’re right there in it.

She asks me when I first knew.

“I was probably four or five. Obviously, I knew before that about changing bodies, having a different mom and dad each day. Or grandmother or babysitter or whoever. There was always someone to take care of me, and I assumed that was just what living was—a new life every morning. If I got something wrong—a name, a place, a rule—people would correct me. There was never that big a disturbance. I didn’t think of myself as a boy or a girl—I never have. I would just think of myself as a boy or a girl for a day. It was like a different set of clothes.

“The thing that ended up tripping me up was the concept of tomorrow. Because after a while, I started to notice—people kept talking about doing things tomorrow. Together. And if I argued, I would get strange looks. For everyone else, there always seemed to be a tomorrow together. But not for me. I’d say, ‘You won’t be there,’ and they’d say, ‘Of course I’ll be there.’ And then I’d wake up, and they wouldn’t be. And my new parents would have no idea why I was so upset.

“There were only two options—something was wrong with everyone else, or something was wrong with me. Because either they were tricking themselves into thinking there was a tomorrow together, or I was the only person who was leaving.”

Hanni asks, “Did you try to hold on?”

I tell her, “I’m sure I did. But I don’t remember it now. I remember crying and protesting—I told you about that. But the rest? I’m not sure. I mean, do you remember a lot about when you were five?”

She shakes her head. “Not really. I remember my mom bringing me and my sister to the shoe store to get new shoes before kindergarten started. I remember learning that a green light meant go and red meant stop. I remember coloring them in, and the teacher being a little confused about how to explain yellow. I think she told us to treat it the same as red.”

“I learned my letters quickly,” I tell her. “I remember the teachers being surprised that I knew them. I imagine they were just as surprised the next day, when I’d forgotten them.”

“A five-year-old probably wouldn’t notice taking a day off.”

“Probably. I don’t know.”

“I keep asking Minji about it, you know. The day you were her. And it’s amazing how clear her fake memories are. She doesn’t disagree when I say we went to the beach, but she doesn’t really remember it, either.”

“Soobin, the twin, was like that, too. He didn’t notice anything wrong. But when I asked him about meeting you for coffee, he didn’t remember it at all. He remembered he was at Starbucks—his mind accounted for the time. But it wasn’t what actually happened.”

“Maybe they remember what you want them to remember.”

“I’ve thought about that. I wish I knew for sure.”

We walk farther. Circle a tree with our fingers.

“What about love?” she asks. “Have you ever been in love?”

“I don’t know that you’d call it love,” I say. “I’ve had crushes, for sure. And there have been days where I’ve really regretted leaving. There were even one or two people I tried to find, but that didn’t work out. The closest was this girl Danielle.”

“Tell me about her.”

“It was about a year ago. I was working at a movie theater, and she was in town, visiting her cousins, and when she went to get some popcorn, we flirted a little, and it just became this … spark. It was this small, one-screen movie theater, and when the movie was running, my job was pretty slow. I think she missed the second half of the movie, because she came back out and started talking to me more. I ended up having to tell her what happened, so she could pretend she’d been in there most of the time. At the end, she asked for my email, and I made up an email address.”

“Like you did for me.”

“Exactly like I did for you. And she emailed me later that night, and left the next day to go back home to Maine, and that proved to be ideal, because then the rest of our relationship could be online. I’d been wearing a name tag, so I had to give her that first name, but I made up a last name, and then I made up an online profile using some of the photos from the real girl’s profile. I think her name was Haerin.”

“Oh—so you were a girl?”

“Yeah,” I say. “Does that matter?”

“No,” she tells me. “I guess not.” But I can tell it does. A little. Again, her mental picture needs adjustment.

“So we’d email almost every day. We’d even chat. And while I couldn’t tell her what was really happening—I emailed her from some very strange places—I still felt like I had something out there in the world that was consistently mine, and that was a pretty new feeling. The only problem was, she wanted more. More photos. Then she wanted to Skype. Then, after about a month of these intense conversations, she started talking about visiting again. Her aunt and uncle had already invited her back, and summer was coming.”

“Uh-oh.”

“Yup—uh-oh. I couldn’t figure out a way around it. And the more I tried to dodge it, the more she noticed. All of our conversations became about us. Every now and then, a tangent would get in there, but she’d always drag it back. So I had to end it. Because there wasn’t going to be a tomorrow for us.”

“Why didn’t you tell her the truth?”

“Because I didn’t think she could take it. Because I didn’t trust her enough, I guess.”

“So you called it off.”

“I told her I’d met someone else. I borrowed photos from the body I was in at the time. I changed my fake profile’s relationship status. Danielle never wanted to talk to me again.”

“Poor girl.”

“I know. After that, I promised myself I wouldn’t get into any more virtual entanglements, as easy as they might seem to be. Because what’s the point of something virtual if it doesn’t end up being real? And I could never give anyone something real. I could only give them deception.”

“Like impersonating their girlfriends,” Hanni says.

“Yeah. But you have to understand—you were the exception to the rule. And I didn’t want it to be based on deception. Which is why you’re the first person I’ve ever told.”

“The funny thing is, you say it like it’s so unusual that you’ve only done it once. But I bet a whole lot of people go through their lives without ever telling the truth, not really. And they wake up in the same body and the same life every single morning.”

“Why? What aren’t you telling me?”

Hanni looks me in the eye. “If I’m not telling you something, it’s for a reason. Just because you trust me, it doesn’t mean I have to automatically trust you. Trust doesn’t work like that.”

“That’s fair.”

“I know it is. But enough of that. Tell me about—I don’t know—third grade.”

The conversation continues. She learns the reason I now have to access information about allergies before eating anything (after having been nearly killed by a strawberry when I was nine), and I learn the origin of her fear of bunny rabbits (a particularly malevolent creature named Swizzle that liked to escape its cage and sleep on people’s faces). She learns about the best mom I ever had (a water park is involved), and I learn about the highs and lows of living with the same mother for your entire life, about how no one can make you angrier, but how you can’t really love anyone more. She learns that I haven’t always been in Maryland, but I move great distances only when the body I’m in moves great distances. I learn that she’s never been on an airplane.

She still keeps a physical space between us—there will be no leaning on shoulders or holding hands right now. But if our bodies keep apart, our words do not. I don’t mind that.

We return to the car and pick at the remains of the picnic. Then we walk around and talk some more. I am astonished at the number of lives I can remember to tell Hanni about, and she is amazed that her single life bears as many stories as my multiple one. Because her normal existence is so foreign to me, so intriguing to me, it starts to feel a little more interesting to her as well.

I could go on like this until midnight. But at five-fifteen, Hanni looks at her phone and says, “We better get going. Minji will be waiting for us.”

Somehow, I’d managed to forget.

It should be a foregone conclusion. I am a seriously attractive girl. Minji is a typically jerk.

I am hoping that Hanni’s theory is right, and that Yoon will only remember what I want her to remember, or what her mind wants her to remember. Not that I’m going to take this far—all I need is confirmation of Minji’s willingness, not actual contact.

Hanni’s picked a clam house off the highway. True to form, I confirm that Yoon doesn’t have any shellfish allergies. In truth, Yoon has tricked herself into thinking she’s “allergic” to a number of things, as a way of narrowing down her diet. But shellfish never hit that particular watch list.

When she walks into the room, heads actually turn. Most of them are attached to men a good thirty years older than her. I’m sure she’s used to it, but it freaks me out.

Even though Hanni was concerned about Minji having to wait for us, she ends up coming ten minutes after we do. The look on her face when she first sees me is priceless—when Hanni said she had a friend in town, Yoon was not what she pictured. She gives Hanni her hello, but she’s gaping at me when he does.

We take our seats. At first I’m so focused on her reaction that I don’t notice Hanni’s. She’s receding into herself, suddenly quiet, suddenly timid. I can’t tell whether it’s Minji’s presence that’s making this happen, or whether it’s the combination of her presence and mine.

We’ve been so wrapped up in our own day that we haven’t really prepared for this. So when Minji starts asking the obvious questions—how do Hanni and I know each other, and how come she hasn’t heard about me before—I have to jump into the breach. For Hanni, fabrication is a ruminative act, whereas lying is a part of my necessary nature.

I tell her that my mother and Hanni’s mother were best friends in high school. I’m now living in Los Angeles (why not?), auditioning for TV shows (because I can). My mother and I are visiting the East Coast for a week, and she wanted to check in on her old friend. Hanni and I have seen each other off and on through the years, but this is the first time in a while.

Minji appears to be hanging on my every word, but she isn’t listening at all. I brush her leg “accidentally” under the table. She pretends she doesn’t notice. Hanni pretends, too.

I’m brazen, but careful with my brazenness. I touch Hanni’s hand a few times when I’m making a point, so it doesn’t seem so unusual when I do it to Minji. I mention a Hollywood star that I once kissed at a party, but make it clear that it was no big deal.

I want Minji to flirt back, but she appears incapable. Especially once there’s food in front of her. Then the order of attention goes: food, then Yoon, then Hanni. I dip my crab cakes in tartar sauce, and imagine Yoon yelling at me for doing so.

When the food is finished, she focuses back on me. Hanni comes alive a little and tries to mimic my movements, first by holding her hand. She doesn’t move away, but she doesn’t seem all that into it; she acts like she’s embarrassing Hanni. I figure this is a good sign.

Finally, Hanni says she has to go to the ladies’ room. This is my chance to get her to do something irredeemable, get her to see who she truly is.

I start with the leg move. This time, with Hanni gone, she doesn’t move her leg away.

“Hello there,” I say.

“Hello,” she says back. And smiles.

“What are you doing after this?” I ask.

“After dinner?”

“Yeah, after dinner.”

“I don’t know.”

“Maybe we should do something,” I suggest.

“Yeah. Sure.”

“Maybe just the two of us.”

Click. She finally gets it.

I move in. Touch her hand. Say, “I think that would be fun.”

I need her to lean in to me. I need her to give in to what she wants. I need her to take it one step further. All it takes is a yes.

She looks around, to see if Hanni is near, and to see if the other guys in the room are seeing this happen.

“Whoa,” she says.

“It’s okay,” I tell her. “I really like you.”

She sits back. Shakes her head. “Um … no.”

I’ve been too forward. She needs it to be her idea.

“Why not?” I ask.

She looks at me like I’m a complete idiot.

“Why not?” she says. “How about Hanni? Jeez.”

I’m trying to think of a comeback for that, but there isn’t one. And it doesn’t even matter, because at this point, Hanni returns to the table.

“I don’t want this,” she says. “Stop.”

Minji, fool that she is, thinks she’s talking to her.

“I’m not doing anything!” she protests, her leg firmly back on his side of the booth. “Your friend here is a little out of control.”

“I don’t want this,” she repeats.

“It’s okay,” I say. “I’m sorry.”

“You should be!” Minji yells. “God, I don’t know how they do things in California, but here, you don’t act like that.” she stands up. I steal a glance at her slight flush ears and see that despite her denials, my flirtation did have at least one effect. But I can’t really point it out to Hanni.

“I’m gonna go,” she says. Then, as if to prove something, she kisses Hanni right in front of me. “Thanks, baby,” she says. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She doesn’t bother saying goodbye to me.

Hanni and I sit back down.

“I’m sorry,” I tell her again.

“No, it’s my fault. I should’ve known.”

I’m waiting for the I told you so … and then it comes.

“I told you that you don’t understand. You can’t understand us,” she says.

The check comes. I try to pay, but she waves me off.

“It’s not your money,” she says. And that hurts just as much as anything else.

I know she wants the night to end. I know she wants to drop me off at home, just so she can call Minji and apologize, and make everything right with her again.

[lovesosweeet]

better left unsaid // cth

chapter four

in which orion has leukemia, and calum doesn't know.

chapter zero, one, two, three

june 3, 2016

madrid, spain

calum

—

Before I know it, it’s 6 am and Orion and I are watching people sleepily head to the metro station near where we’ve been sitting for several hours. Our trash from our late night/early morning falafel run has remained unmoved next to us since we devoured our food. I didn’t even realize the sun was up until Orion started squinting at me because it was glaring directly into her eyes. We aren’t in it, but we’re sitting on a bench right outside the big park in Madrid called Retiro.

In the daylight, I can better see her eyes and their warmth. They’re brown, but they almost look like burnt orange. There’s something extra warm and light in them… almost like caramel. Maybe they look extra bright because of the light blue dress she has on, but still, I can’t stop staring at them.

Orion is one of the funniest people I’ve met on tour, and one of the kindest. She’s smart, but not in a way that makes it hard to talk to her because she speaks above me, just in a way that makes it even more intriguing to hear what she has to say, and truthfully, she has a lot to say. It’s sweet, and I like listening to her.

“I don’t know about you, Mr. Rockstar,” she starts, and I roll my eyes at her dig. “But, I’m pretty tired. Want to grab a coffee? I can help you figure out your way back to your hotel if you want to go sleep or hang out with your band or whatever it is you’d normally do at this time.”

I laugh, knowing the rest of the band is definitely sleeping soundly right now. Truthfully, I don’t really want to say goodbye. Touring the world, you learn how fleeting your time is with people who aren’t on the move with you. It makes it harder to say goodbye and the time with the people you care about feels even more special. I only met her less than 12 hours ago, but Orion is someone I want to spend my time with.

“I’d love to grab a coffee.”

She smiles—a tired, but still energetic smile. “Sweet. Hmm… I think there’s a place just a few blocks this way.” She points to our right and pulls out her phone. I don’t know how hers isn’t dead—mine died hours ago.

I stand up and dust off my pants, and then I look down and notice the stain on my shirt for the first time in daylight. It’s a faint purple splash. I don’t know if I’ll ever wear this shirt again and not think of her. It already makes me smile, thinking of our encounter at the club and her frustrated, but adorable, expression when I startled her.

I hold my hands out to her to help her up and she reluctantly takes them, scoffing a little. “Let’s go grab a… cafecito? Is that right?”

A surprised look takes over her face. “Are you sure you don’t speak Spanish? You know a total of like… five words now!”

“Alright, take the sass back down to a level two.”

With the help of her GPS, we arrive to the small cafe after a few minutes of walking. It’s nice to see Madrid in the daytime. We’ve stopped here before on tour, but haven’t ever really explored much. Honestly, if I wasn’t with Orion right now, I probably wouldn’t be exploring now either. It’s a pretty city, from what we’ve seen, and oddly clean. Compared to Paris, or New York, or LA, it’s a world of difference in the amount of litter.

There are families and young people and elderly people out and about, even though it’s early in the morning. There’s traffic but it’s not noisy. I also love how at home Orion seems here, even though she’s only been here for a week. It feels like she just meshes with the city and she’s content—I wonder what she looks like in other cities. I can’t imagine her being any more beautiful than she is right now at 6 am, bloodshot eyes, faded makeup, her hair falling out of its ponytail, and still so sweet and happy.

At the cafe, she doesn’t even ask me what I want, but I don’t mind. I hand over a handful of coins for the coffees she ordered us, and grateful for the hot cup when she gives me mine.

“What do you have going on today?” I ask, silently hoping she’s free to spend the day with me.

“I don’t think we have any plans. I’m sure my friends are hungover and sleeping…” She trails off and grabs my hand, pulling me out of the tiny cafe and back to the sidewalk. “Do you need to be anywhere?”

I shake my head. “I’ve got to be at the hotel by 3 to ride with the band to the venue for soundcheck, but I’m all yours the rest of the day if you’ll have me.”

Orion nods. “I guess we can hang out.” She feigns acting annoyed with my presence.

I fake hurt and shove her arm playfully before I wrap an arm around her shoulders, starting to walk while she starts rattling off ideas of what we can do.

—

By 2:30, she’s taken me to her favorite breakfast cafe, forced me to try vegan donuts, helped paddle in a boat at Retiro, and pulled me into a few small art museums to marvel at the pieces and translate some of the labels so I know what I’m looking at. She wanted to take me to the three story Primark on Gran Via but she said it would take up too much of our time and there’s too much else to see.

“Do you want to come to the show tonight?” I finally ask her. I’d been debating asking her all day—not debating whether or not I wanted to ask, simply unsure of when or how was the right way.

She looks surprised. Have I not been blatantly obvious? I really like this girl, of course I want her to come to the show.

“Do you want me to come?”

I grab her shoulders and turn her to face me so she has no choice but to look me in the eyes. “I would love for you to come, but I don’t want to make you come if you don’t want to.”

Orion smiles somewhat sheepishly. “I’d love to come. Do you know what the venue is? And what time?”

“Shit, no, I don’t, and my phone is dead.” I try to remember the name of the venue but can’t. “Here, I’ll text myself on WhatsApp and when I get back to the hotel I’ll text you everything you need to know.”

I hold my hand out for her phone and she hands it to me, unlocked, so I can message myself. I type in a quick message — “hola señora” — and then hand her phone back to her.

“Oh, and you can bring your friends, if you want.”

Her face lights up. “Oh my god, I think they’d lose their minds. They’ve been texting me nonstop since they woke up.”

I laugh. “Bring them, they can meet the band if they want.”

Orion nods, shoving her phone back into her bag. “Okay, I’m sure they’ll be up for that. You should probably get going.”

I nod, going to pull my phone out to figure out how to get to the hotel, but am reminded again that it’s dead.

Orion giggles. “Do you need help getting there?”

“Maybe.”

“What’s the hotel?”

“Hotel Madrid…. Gran-something?”

She gives me a look like ‘you should get your life together’ but she types it in her GPS. “Oh, duh, silly. Hotel Madrid Gran Via. It’s a few blocks this way. We’re already on Gran Via.”

I feel stupid but I don’t care. I’m just excited that she’s coming to our show tonight. I can’t wait to introduce her to the guys — they’ll love her.

“Walk me there?” I ask, hopefully. I want to spend as much time with her as I can. I don’t want this to be the last time I see her, but I’m not sure how often I’ll get to see her if she even wants to see me again.

Orion grins and locks her hand in mine again. Gran Via is busy and hot, and it’s easy to get lost in the crowd. It’s nice to be tethered to someone in places like this. “Let’s go.”

We meander through the crowd—I’ve got sunglasses on to try to lay low, thankfully I’ve only been recognized a few times today and Orion has been really cool about it. After a few blocks, the somewhat familiar hotel comes into view, and I notice a small crowd outside of the regular entrance. Thank god we asked security to show us the back entrance before we went out last night.

I feel Orion tense up at the sight of the swarm of fans and I squeeze her hand. “It’s okay, there’s a back entrance.”

Her shoulders drop as she relaxes. “Oh, good, I didn’t think it’d be good for you to be seen with me.”

I’m not sure what she means by that. I’d have no issues with being seen with her—she’s not a controversial figure, and I can confidently say she’s not going to go spreading gossip online, and, fuck, do I like her. I don’t say anything though, as now we’re less than two blocks away and they could see me at any moment. I turn us down a side street and then into the alley that leads to the secure back entrance to the hotel. I see Matt, our tour manager, and Gus, one of our main security guys, talking outside of the entrance.

They’re so caught up in their conversation they don’t see us until we’re just a few yards away. When Matt looks up, he does a double take.

“Calum!” He grunts. Shit. He’s mad. “Where the fuck have you been? You haven’t been answering anyone’s calls or texts. You know we’re leaving for soundcheck in,” he checks his watch, “seven minutes!”

I turn red, embarrassed that Orion is here for this. “My phone’s been dead, we were just exploring the city.”

Matt fumes. “You know you’re not supposed to go out during the day without security.”

Shit. I’d forgotten about that rule. Truthfully, I don’t normally go out during the day, and it’s a new rule we just implemented after a few shows in Asia when Ash got ambushed while he was out grabbing food.

“It’s my fault,” Orion says.

I turn to her, surprised. How’s she going to dig me out of this hole?

“I just really wanted to show him Madrid and we didn’t have time to charge our phones so we couldn’t stop and call to get security with us. We stayed away from touristy spots mostly and I felt weird about the idea of having security following me around. I knew we had to be back here by 3 and I hoped it wouldn’t be a big problem as long as we came back in time and laid low. I’m so sorry, if I’d known it was that important we would’ve come back earlier to let you know everything was fine.” Her story is somehow believable, but Matt’s still mad.

“Who is this?” Matt snaps, his eyes angry and boring into me.

“This is… Orion. We met last night and hit it off, so we spent the day together.”

Matt still looks angry as his eyes flit back and forth between the two of us. “You’re lucky you’re back in time.” He then turns away from us to wave down the black van that just entered the alley, presumably our ride to the venue.

I let out a sigh of relief and turn to O. I can’t help but smile when we lock eyes, and then we both stifle a few giggles. What are we, schoolgirls who just got caught? “I had the best time with you today.”

Orion blushes and looks down, breaking our eye contact. “Yeah, it was really fun.”

I nod. Goodbye. I’m supposed to say goodbye. I don’t want to. I wish she could just come with us to soundcheck and then join us on tour, honestly. That’s incredibly irrational and she has a life. But that’s what I wish.

“Can I kiss you?” she whispers, looking incredibly nervous.

I place a hand on her cheek and pull her close, having to bend down to get us on the same level. I don’t even think about my probably horrible breath due to not brushing my teeth all day, I just focus on her and her soft lips on mine. It’s a short kiss, but definitely my favorite first kiss I’ve ever had.

“Kiss me whenever you’d like,” I quietly say back, making her laugh. “I’ll see you tonight?”

Orion nods. “Yep, don’t forget to text me!”

“I promise, I won’t forget.”

She gives me a hug goodbye and I kiss the top of her head before she’s pulling away, stepping back and giving me a small wave before she starts walking out of the alley.

“Hey Matt, got a phone charger?” I call, making the already angry man scowl and dig through the backpack he has leaning against the building. He tosses it to me and then opens the door to the van.

“Get in, Hood.”

read next chapter

—

a/n: i promise the plot is picking up soooon i promise i promise. i’m trying to make this new version more in depth than the one i had on wattpad which means more fleshed out pieces of the story. i know we haven’t gotten to the juicy parts id love to hear what people are thinking of this 🥹 ty for reading!!! 🫶🏻

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 328: Pandora’s Box of Discourse

Previously on BnHA: DEKU TOOK A BATH.

Today on BnHA: 

Also Naomasa grew a beard. Goddamn. 

please let this be a cool chapter that plays nice with my ADHD lol

(ETA: lol I feel guilty because a lot of people hated this chapter, but I’m just happy there was a lot of stuff to make fun of, and also that I have another week to work on my backlog of meta posts since the kids were MIA.)

around one month ago?? ah, okay, so we’re gonna find out what was in that Tartarus security file huh

I love that they just randomly set the place on fire

was it necessary to do this in order to escape? no. was it a good idea to set the island they were occupying on fire while they were in the midst of still occupying it? uh. was it cinematic as fuck? fuck yeah

wow it’s a pervert!!

that’s so great that the villains set loose this fine fellow who I’m sure is definitely not a serial rapist. truly the LoV is so noble and misunderstood. they’re just trying to free society from its chains people

oh my god??!

SHANKED!!! oh my god I cheered for Stain before I realized what I was doing. time to have an identity crisis I guess

so he’s all “hey what’s going on.” which, while a respectable question, is something I personally would have waited to ask until I had put a bit of distance between myself and the fiery murder island. but that’s just my personal preference

Stain you really are tenacious I’ll give you that

“what’s the point of escaping prison if you’re not gonna be smart about it” well shit. anyways yeah you’re dead right, society is in the process of collapsing and the outside world is in total chaos, good call there

oh shit

I mean it’s not like we really expecting anything otherwise, but still. fucking brutal. I feel like these guys’ fates were decided the minute that one guy called AFO “scum” back in chapter 94. AFO is unmatched at getting long-term revenge

??

ahh, was it the security footage??

fdsdfk he’s still alive??

and he’s immediately launching into an inappropriately theatrical monologue even as the darkness closes in on him fdlfksjdlk. you know, was it ever confirmed that the other guy back in chapter 297 was Seiji’s dad? I’m just saying

very impressed that he’s still coherent enough to weigh the pros and cons before making the decision to gamble on giving this info to Stain, who at the very least has his own moral code and isn’t allied with AFO. it was definitely still a risk, but as we now know it was also the right call

what a weird alliance. so Stain tells him that he’ll give it to a just person, and the guy is all,

okay for real though I’m gonna need someone to run a DNA test on this guy. maybe it was some kind of cuckold situation?? the other guy had the family resemblance, but this guy absolutely 100% raised Shishikura Seiji and you are not going to convince me otherwise

anyway, so Stain is all,

PRISON GUARD: “???? ??????? what the hell. what the fuck does that fucking mean. I’m dying here, jesus christ, whatever man fuck you”

(ETA: I kind of feel like this might have been Stain’s last appearance in the manga, given all the fanfare. there’s not really much else he can do for the story at this point, and he seems to have gotten all the character development Horikoshi was planning on giving him. so if this really is it, hasta la vista and good riddance I guess.)

DWLFDKSLDK MEANWHILE, OUTSIDE

(ETA: I feel like this is meant to be evocative of that Sermon on the Mount painting, but in a really fucked up way lol.)

if it were me stumbling upon this scene I would just shake my head and walk right back into the flaming building. not getting involved in that mess. sorry not sorry. I’ll take my chances with the fire, especially given that it’s half-assed neutered BnHA fire lol

blah blah blah and so he decided to pass the info on to All Might -- HOT DAMN, HOLY SHIT

NAOMASA HOLY SHIT. THE APOCALYPSE LOOKS GOOD ON YOU, BOY

“I really like that facial scruff thing Aizawa’s got going on, I think I’m gonna get in on that” yes sir. “also thinking of ditching the tie in favor of the bulletproof vest look. also thinking of getting totally fucking jacked.” good lord. except I’m pretty sure that’s just body armor, but also I don’t care. anyway I should probably stop staring and actually read the fucking speech bubbles here lol

“All Might first handed this information over to Nao, and then went to see Deku, and then came back to Nao” thanks for that tidy little summary Horikoshi. we are capable of piecing events together in sequential order, I just want you to know that. but thank you

“so has Deku finally gotten a bath? also, sucks that Stain saved the day, but what are you gonna do” Nao I missed you so fucking much and didn’t even realize. how am I just now realizing that you are the perfect man

for a second I was gonna ask why Tartarus’s security systems would be cut off from the outside world, and then I remembered that’s a basic security control, and then I actually got impressed by how sensible that is. like, it’s been a while since I could genuinely say that the good guys (excluding class 1-A) did something smart. not that it helped them much in the end, but still

anyway so they’re talking about how AFO was able to coordinate the attack by communicating between his horcrux self on the outside and his ugly peanut-faced self on the inside

huh

okay you have my attention. I am taking notes here lol please continue

ah okay so he says that prior to Jakku, the transfer of information between him and his Vestige self was only one-way. but post-Jakku when Deku was in the hospital, he was able to tell what was happening inside the OFA Radical Lisa Frank Dead People Book Club Realm when he touched him. I feel like we established that before, actually. but he didn’t talk about how it actually felt, though

boy we already know this lol. yes AFO can talk with his horcrux self. and he can also communicate with his little bro in OFA too, let’s talk about that sometime why don’t we. what exactly does that imply, based on the rules we’ve established here

my god I cannot get over Naomasa and his fucking facial hair

no wonder All Might was in such a hurry to leave Deku and get back here

like I have no idea what this radio waves nonsense is but my god, people

that jawline. also so it’s a quirk, I see. except last I checked Deku didn’t have a radio waves quirk, so that doesn’t really explain his connection to AFO. but whatever, hopefully we’re at least getting closer to some kind of reveal here

(ETA: since I sometimes forget that other people’s lives don’t revolve around my theory posts, here are the two relevant links if you by chance want to know my thoughts about this.

Hagakure is still The U.A. Traitor™ regardless of whether Deku is passing information on to AFO through his psychic link, which he almost certainly is.

speaking of said psychic link, Deku is a horcrux.

just posting these now, because whenever trippy OFA stuff happens I tend to get an influx of theory asks. so hopefully this will be a bit of a time saver lol.)

-- wait, what

THAT’S what the recording was??!? holy SHIT. I genuinely was not expecting that. y’all wiretapped his fucking telepathy. fucking quirks, man. wild

AND THEY USED THAT POWER TO DETERMINE WHAT WE ALREADY KNEW, HUZZAH. GOOD SHOW

-- oh shit wait lol, except I forgot we’re not talking about 38 days from the present, we’re talking about 38 days from the date the conversation was recorded. heh. um

yeah that’s the face I would make too if All Fucking Might just casually told me we had eight days left until the end times

oh, pardon me. three fucking days

r.i.p. anyone who thought we were going to have another band arc sob. I sure hope Deku is enjoying that nap

(ETA: I realize people were hoping for a longer rest period here, but given that the man warned us all the way back in chapter 306 that we were entering the final act, you can’t really blame him too much when that turns out to be true. anyway but I do recognize that we’ve reached the point in the story where this kind of discourse is going to become a weekly occurrence, simply because there’s no possible way for Horikoshi’s actual endgame to line up perfectly with the variable headcanons of millions of fans, all of whom have wildly differing and in many cases contradictory expectations which can’t possibly all be fulfilled. anyway, so I’m already bracing myself for that lol. this coming year is going to be a wild ride.)

damn, U.A. out here looking like the motherfucking United Nations

-- is this U.A.?? I actually just realized, U.A. is four interconnected buildings, not two. wait holy shit is this Shiketsu?

wait holy SHIT

based on the overwhelmingly powerful vibes of bureaucratic incompetence, I’m thinking this really is the (future) U.N., or whatever organization it is that deals with international hero stuff

“just let them handle it themselves I’m sure they’ll be fine” yeah okay, thanks guys. appreciate it

wait oh shit did he say that it’s not just Japan?

soooo, what you’re telling me is that AFO is this close to bringing about the end of not just Japan, but the entire world, and you guys don’t think it’s a good idea to help the Japanese heroes stop him? so, genuine follow-up question: are you guys already planning your rich people exodus into space a la Wall-E, and that’s why you don’t give a fuck?? like, what??

omg international heroes

these guys are from World Hoodie Mission, right? is this Horikoshi’s way of reminding me to buy tickets

(ETA: and it worked too lol.)

WHO??? WHAT???

don’t tell me you’re introducing yet another badass new female character for me to fall in love with only to watch as you dismember them and/or blow them up, Horikoshi. I’m getting tired of playing this game my dude. don’t lie and tell me this time will be different. we’re not doing this again goddammit

noooooooooooooooooooo

god fucking dammit lmao. [sighs and rips the previous paragraph into shreds]

on behalf of Americans I apologize for our superheroes always being Like This

I also apologize because I love her already and I’m gonna be shameless about it. so fucking shameless you guys

is her fucking hair red white and blue. it is, isn’t it

this is the volume cliffhanger, 100% lol. it will take every ounce of Horikoshi’s willpower not to put her on the volume cover. he’ll have to settle for the spine or the inner cover this time because Deku VS his class 1-a superpals takes precedence. but it will be a close thing let me tell you

tbh it’s that smile that does it for me. she’s definitely All Might’s protege. get out there and show them how it’s done girl. and maybe call Salaam and BRD and see if you can’t convince them to play hooky from their governments as well. why not. world’s ending in three days you guys. “sorry, I’m busy this weekend” ain’t gonna cut it lol

so while I am not fully caught up with Vigilantes, I have read far enough to know that there’s an American hero named Captain Celebrity whose superpower from what I recall is being a humongous douchebag. and while I haven’t read far enough to know what happens to this guy, I can’t say I’m very disappointed to learn that he’s no longer the number one hero in the U.S. (actually, didn’t they kick him out and that’s why he moved to Japan to begin with?). anyway, so my thanks to Horikoshi for having a marginally higher opinion of Americans than Furuhashi, even though we have definitely not done anything to warrant said opinion lately, and you may have inadvertently opened the door to a pandora’s box of discourse lmao

(ETA: lol I went into the tags and they don’t disappoint. “why is she dressed like a flag” because she’s an homage to Captain America and Major Victory and literally every other character on this list. again, I apologize for fictional American superheroes being Like This. “oh boy another thicc waifu to make the fanboys happy” look, tumblr fandom never seems to have a problem thirsting over Dabi or Tomura or Aizawa or Nao, lol, I’m just saying. “where is Captain Celebrity” idk, probably murdered by the exploding bee cartel, let’s just be grateful for our good fortune and try not to Beetlejuice the man.)

anyway, so let’s see if Horikoshi’s recent character development with regards to making Mineta not terrible anymore will apply to other aspects of his writing as well. I know I was making light of discourse just now, but I do think the complaints about him introducing yet another new character at the 11th hour to be cannon fodder in the final battle are absolutely valid. and again, it wouldn’t be a problem if he didn’t keep maiming/killing off his female characters one by one instead of developing them and letting them kick ass long-term. but that said, I will never complain about Horikoshi adding another female character to the series, regardless of how clumsy the attempt may be. go ahead and pander away, just give us more girl power lol

anyway so we’ll see how it goes, but I think I’m gonna be optimistic and let myself hope once again, even though I’m probably gonna regret it lol. it is what it is. she is standing on an airplane just chilling for fuck’s sake. I’m only human. anyway fingers crossed

[worldserasingandcreatinginmymind]

Unfaithful | Final Chapter

Series Summary: After dreaming of your perfect wedding since you were a little girl the big day is almost here. But after meeting the priest you start to question your relationship.

Pairing: Hot Priest x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2718

Warnings: all the angst with a side order of fluff, FINAL CHAPTER

A/N: this is it, the series finale. I really hope you guys enjoyed the series and that this ending does it justice. Thank you for the lovely comments on previous chapters, I love you guys! Also, spelling and grammar is not my strongest skill so please be kind :)

Part Five | Masterlist

- - - - -

“We need to talk”

“I think you said enough yesterday” I say dismissively as I stand up.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said any of that.”

“But you did!” 

“I know this is no excuse but I was really drunk”

“You're right, that isn’t an excuse. What you said to me really hurt”

“I know and I am so so sorry. I think I thought that if I could make you hate me then it would be easier for me to not love you.”

I pause, trying to make sense of what he’s just said. 

“That’s stupid”

“I realise that now, but at the time my alcohol infused brain thought it was genius.” He says and I can't help but be slightly amused “Look Y/N, I need you to know I didn’t mean any of what I said yesterday. And I really hope you don't hate me, though I don't blame you if you do”

“I don’t hate you” I take his hands in mine and look deep in his eyes “I could never hate you, you mean too much to me now. I couldn’t have got through the past few weeks without you, so you're not getting rid of me that easy”

I give him a gentle but sincere smile and he lets out a sigh of relief. 

“It didn’t work anyway” he says and I respond with a confused look “My genius plan failed… I still love you” 

Before I can say anything else Eva appears at the door.

“There you are!” She calls and I quickly release the priest’s hands as I turn to look at her. She looks from me, to the priest and back to me “everything okay?”

“Yeah, fine. This is the priest who’s doing the wedding.” 

“Oh uh, actually… I’m not anymore” he says, suddenly awkward again. 

“Can you give us a minute?” I say to Eva and she nods before disappearing back inside the house. I turn my attention back to the worried looking priest “What do you mean?” 

“I can’t be there today” 

“Are you serious? We need you!” 

“I know it’s unprofessional to pull out this late but so is kissing the bride behind the groom’s back, so…” he lets out a small nervous chuckle “I’ve arranged cover already. Father Crilly. He’s a good priest, he’ll make sure it all runs smooth”

“You're a good priest! You can make sure it runs smooth!”

“I can’t” he says, looking down at his feet

“Of course you can”

“No I can’t!” He snaps, looking back up at me. I notice tears starting to form in his eyes. “I can’t because I want it to go wrong. I want there to be a reason for this wedding not to happen, for you not to marry him… instead of me” 

My breath catches in my throat as I look at him, not knowing how to respond.

“Father…” I almost whisper “I- I don't know what to say”

“You don't have to say anything”

“You know how much mean to me-”

“Please don’t” he interrupts but I carry on 

“-but I can’t leave Daniel. I’m sorry”

“I can’t pretend to understand why you would marry a man who treats you the way he has, but if you love him even half as much as I love you… then I respect your decision. I’m not going to get in your way.” 

He turns to leave but I grab his arm gently stopping him. 

“Are you gonna be alright?” I ask and he gives me a small nod

“It’ll pass” 

I watch as he walks out my driveway and disappears down the road, taking deep steadying breaths before putting a smile on my face and heading inside to get ready. 

After all, today is to be the happiest day of my life. Right? 

— — — — 

So far the rest of the day has run smooth. I explained to Eva and the rest of the bridesmaids that the priest had to pull out last minute, making up some excuse about a family emergency, but that he’d arranged cover so there was nothing to stress about. Eva, as my substitute maid of honour, took on the job of alerting Daniel to the last minute change so there would be no confusion when he turned up at the church and found Father Crilly waiting for him. 

A few hours later I descended the stairs in my beautiful white dress to the sound of the girls showering me with compliments and my aunt Lynda sniffling into a hankie. 

“You look like a princess” she says, pulling me into a slightly too tight hug. 

It wasn’t long till the cars arrived and we were on our way. The bridesmaids pilled into one while me and Aunt Lynda got into the other. Lynda rambled on about something but I couldn't really hear her. Too busy staring silently out of the window. The closer we get to the church, the more I can feel the panic rising in my chest. 

“Y/N? Are you okay?” She asks as she squeezes my hand gently, pulling my mind back into the car.

“Yeah, of course! Why wouldn’t I be?” I reply as convincingly as possible. 

“It’s okay to be nervous. Hell, I was more nervous the second time than I was for my first”

“I didn’t know you were married before uncle Steve?” 

“Yeah! It was long before you were born. We were school sweethearts. Like you and Daniel, only less in love. We thought we were in love but looking back now I realise we were too young to really know what that meant. Your dad tried to warn me. Said Troy and I were better off as friends, but we didn’t listen. He was great for relationship advice was your dad, bit of a self proclaimed love expert.” She pauses, going watery eyed again “I’m sorry he’s not here”

“Me too” 

“I’m sure wherever he is, he’ll be watching over you today. Your mother too. They’d both be so proud” she squeezes my hand again and smiles tearfully. 

“Don't make me cry. If I ruin my makeup Eva will kill me” I laugh, wiping under my eyes.

“I know, I’m sorry.” She says, handing me a tissue “no more crying, this is a happy day!”

— — — — 

By the time we arrived at the church the bridesmaids were waiting outside with the photographer and the new priest. The photographer camera flashed at me as Lynda helped me out of the car and lead me to the church. Looking up at those wooden doors, I was glad I had Lynda to cling onto. My legs felt like jelly. 

Father Crilly introduced himself to me before heading inside the church. The bridesmaids, Lynda and I waited outside until we heard the music start, signalling the beginning of the ceremony. The bridesmaids began their walk up the aisle and before long the music changed again to the bridal chorus.

“Here we go” 

We walk into the church, stopping just inside the doors. I glance up to the front of the church to see Daniel looking back at me, a smile spread across his face. A smile I can’t make myself return. Instead I keep my eyes down, focusing on the floor as we walk up aisle. I can feel every set of eyes on me, but I keep mine fixed on my feet that carry me closer and closer to my future. 

We reach the top and Lynda gives me a kiss on the cheek before going to join the bridesmaids on the front row. Daniel takes my hand in his, whispering “you look amazing” into my ear as Father Crilly begins the ceremony. 

His opening speech goes by in a blur. I try to listen to every word he’s saying, to keep myself planted in the real world but my mind is spinning and my heart is pounding. I can’t stop thinking about what Lynda said in the car. What if Daniel and I aren’t in love? We just think we are because we’ve been together so long. We’re just used to being with each other. 

I also can’t get the priest out of my head. Worrying about him. Wondering what he’s doing now, whether he’s thinking about me. I replay our last conversation in my head. 

‘I still love you’ 

‘I want there to be a reason for this wedding not to happen, for you not to marry him… instead of me’ 

I try to push his words from my mind, focusing instead on his final ones. 

‘It’ll pass’

But what if it doesn’t. 

“If any person present knows of any lawful reason why this marriage can’t take place they should speak now or forever hold their peace” Father Crilly pauses. 

A tense silence fills the room. 

I look out across the crowd of friends and family sitting silently in their seats, a small part of me hoping the priest will burst through the doors dramatically declaring his love for me as he sweeps me away to live happily ever after. 

I shake the fantasy from my mind and turn my attention back to the man I’m actually about to marry. Daniel is also looking out at the church crowd. He looks nervous. I give his hand a gentle squeeze and he looks at me.

“Are you okay?” I whisper and he nods, but I can tell he’s not. As he looks away from me again my mind starts to spiral, panic rising in my chest. I can’t do this. 

‘It’ll pass’

 I think I’m making a mistake. 

‘It’ll pass’

These feelings are too intense to ignore.

‘It’ll pass’

These feelings of love. Not for Daniel. For the priest. I don't want them to pass. 

“I object” I say quietly, staring down at my hand enclosed within Daniel’s. I can feel his gaze on my face as a wave of gasps and shocked murmuring works its way through the church. 

“What?” He says, a nervous laugh escapes his lips but the smile fades as my sad eyes lock onto his.

“I object” 

“To- to your own wedding…?” Father Crilly asks, voice full of confusion.

“I can’t do it. I can’t start a marriage with a lie.”

“Y/N? What are you talking about?” Daniel asks, gripping my hands tightly in his own, afraid to let go. 

“When you marry someone, there shouldn’t be any secrets. You have to be able to confess anything, trust them with everything… I need to be honest with you.” I pause, building up the courage to say what I need to say next. “Daniel I-”

“I cheated on you” he blurts out, earning another gasp from the crowd

“…what?” 

“I’ve been having an affair…” Daniel repeats “Tiff and I… we, uh-”

“Tiffany? My best friend Tiffany?” I ask and he nods “How long?”

“Maybe we should continue this somewhere else” Father Crilly tries to move us but I ignore him.

“How long Daniel? How long have you been sleeping with my best friend behind my back?”

“A few months I think”

“You think? What, you don't even remember?” I bring my hands up to my head, rubbing circles on my temples as I turn my back on Daniel and take deep breaths. 

“Y/N, please listen to me. I am so sorry. I never meant to hurt you-” he puts his hands on my shoulders but I shrug him off.

“You say that a lot for someone who has repeatedly hurt me. Emotionally…” I turn back to face him “physically. And every time I make excuses for you, brush off the insults, hide the bruises because I thought I was in love with you. But I’m not. I don't love you. I haven’t loved you for a long time. I was just too scared to leave you. But I'm not scared anymore”

“I really think we should talk this through somewhere private” Father Crilly tries again but I shake my head. 

“I’m done.” I take Daniel’s hand and look him straight in the eye “Thank you for finally setting me free” 

I remove my engagement ring and place it in his hand before turning and walking back down the aisle to exit the church. Daniel runs after me, stopping me once we’re outside. 

“Y/N! Please just let me explain-”

“Did you ever stop to think how I would feel?” I spin around, taking him by surprise “When you were with her, did you consider me at all?” I pause, giving him the chance to respond but he doesn’t “See that’s the difference between you and me. All I ever do, all I’ve ever done, is think about you and how you’d react. A few days ago I kissed someone-”

“What?! Who?!” He yells, anger creeping onto his face

“Don't you dare get angry with me after what you’ve done!” I respond and he takes a deep breath “I could’ve done more. I had the opportunity to sleep with him. But I didn’t. Because I kept thinking about you, about how you would feel. And what you would do to me if you ever found out”

“I love you”

“No you don’t. If you did you wouldn’t have slept with my best friend. You don't love me, and that’s fine. I don't love you either, cause if I truly did then I wouldn’t have kissed the priest. I think we both just convinced ourselves we were in love because everyone else thought we were this fairytale love story. But maybe we were better off as friends.”

“Maybe” he says quietly, deep in thought “I’m really sorry, about everything. I treated you…terribly” 

Hearing a sincere, genuine apology from him, I finally feel at peace with it all. 

“It doesn’t matter now” I say, giving him a small smile “do you love Tiffany?”

He thinks for a moment before gently nodding his head. 

“I think so, yeah”

“You should tell her” I say, gesturing behind him as Tiffany comes running towards us. 

“Eva texted me.” She says breathlessly “Y/N, I am so sorry I should have-” 

I cut her off by pulling her into a hug.

“It’s okay” I say, releasing her and she looks at me in shock as I hand her my bridal bouquet “I hope you two are happy together. Really I mean that” 

I turn and walk away. 

“Where are you going?” Tiff calls after me.

“To get my happy ending” 

— — — — 

“Y/N?!” 

The priest looks at me confused as he answers his front door. 

“What are you doing here?” He asks.

“You lied to me” I say deadpan “you said Father Crilly would make sure it all ran smooth. But it didn’t. Something went very very wrong during the ceremony.”

“What happened?” He looks genuinely concerned

“Well a few things. The bride objected, and then the groom confessed to cheating with the former maid of honour. Then the bride confessed to kissing the former priest and they both confessed to not loving each other.”

He stands looking at me for a few moments, taking it all in. 

“Wow” he finally says “so not smooth then?”

“No” I burst out laughing and the priest joins in before turning serious again. 

“Are you okay?” He asks, searching my face.

“Yeah” I say after a moment, “more than okay, I’m great. I feel like a massive weight has been lifted off my shoulders”

“That’s good”

There’s a comfortable silence before I speak again. 

“You know, during the ceremony I kept hearing you in my head. Saying ‘It’ll pass’. And I realised something”

“What?”

“I don't ever want this feeling to pass. This feeling I get when I think of you, when I’m with you.” I pause to take a breath “I love you” 

“I love you too Y/N”

I smile. 

“So what happens now?”

He takes a step toward me, closing the gap as he brings his hands up to my face and crashes his lips to mine.

— — — — 

I started this story by saying every girl dreams of her perfect wedding day. 

Well mine ended up being far from perfect. 

But as I lay here wrapped in the priest’s arms, for the first time in a long time I’m happy. I’m free. 

And I’m in love. 

[junghelioseok]

clandestine. | 04

↳ forbidden fruit tastes the sweetest.

◇ jungkook x reader ◇ smut | fluff | brother’s best friend!au ◇ 6.5k [4/6]

notes: we finally have a set chapter count! did this fic really need to be 6 chapters? absolutely not, but here we are! i’m hoping to have this fella finished up in the next month or so, but we’ll see how that goes given my track record. happy new year, everyone!

warnings: a little underedited bc i’m lazy, shower sex!!! mild? exhibitionist tendencies??? reader is dumb and jungkook is slutty, but what else is new 🤷🏻‍♀️

⇢ 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 

“I swear to god, I am going to amputate your arm with a rusty hacksaw if you elbow me one more time.”

Undeterred, your brother prods you again, pouting at you from his spot in the driver’s seat. “I just want another chip, Noona. Don’t be so mean.”

“Are you a baby bird?” you ask in disbelief, gaping at the way he opens his mouth and sticks out his tongue. “Seriously, I’m not feeding you. Get your own chips if you want them so badly.”

“But I’ve gotta keep both hands on the wheel,” he replies cheekily. “Ten and two positions, at all times.”

You frown. “Didn’t they change it to nine and three?” Nonetheless, you reluctantly reach into the bag in your lap, pulling out a potato chip and delivering it to his waiting mouth. “Next one’s going straight into your nose,” you warn as he happily crunches down on the snack.

Jimin simply offers you a beatific grin in between chews. “Love you too.”

“Nope, I changed my mind. Next one’s going up your ass.”

Your brother has long since grown used to your threats. “Kinky,” he chuckles as he merges smoothly into the next lane over. The song on the radio shifts into something more upbeat, and Jungkook is quick to start humming along under his breath from his spot in the seat behind you. Within minutes, it’s morphed into a singalong, and the offkey warbling of all seven passengers—no matter how dissonant—is a perfect soundtrack for the remainder of the drive.

The beach, when you arrive, is awash with tourists and locals alike, all clamoring to lay claim to a prime stretch of sand and a decent parking space. Jimin manages to snag a spot just as someone else is pulling out, and the rest of you are quick to disembark and scope out the beach for somewhere to set up camp. Plopping your bag down onto the sand, you rifle through it until you find your sunscreen, mentally patting yourself on the back for buying the spray instead of the cream.

“Can I borrow that when you’re done, Noona?” Taehyung asks, watching you wrench off the cap.

You nod, squinting against the sunlight. “Sure. As long as you help me get my entire back.”

“Deal.”

Flashing him a grateful smile, you shimmy out of your shorts and begin applying sunscreen to your arms and legs. Taehyung peels off his t-shirt, and you spray him down too, making sure to coat his entire back before he takes the bottle and does the same to you.

“I might have gone a little overboard,” he admits once he’s done, capping the bottle and tossing it back into your bag. Warm hands settle onto your exposed shoulder blades, deft fingertips rubbing the excess product into your skin. “There, that should do it. All better.”

“Thanks, Tae.” You turn around and reach out, wiping at a stray fleck of the white lotion on his bicep. “You’ve got a little bit here too, hang on—“

“Mind if I borrow this?”

You turn at the sound of Jungkook’s voice. The dark-haired young man is standing there with your sunscreen in hand, his gaze zeroed in on the way your fingertips linger on Taehyung’s bare skin. Awkwardly, you pull away and nod, hoping that neither of them can hear your heart pounding erratically against your ribcage.

“Yeah. Sure. It’s all yours.”

Jungkook grabs his white t-shirt by the collar, tugging it up and over his head in one smooth motion, and you swallow at the way his taut abdomen flexes as he tosses it aside. “You’ll help me get my back too, won’t you, Noona?”

You nod, moving before he can even finish his sentence. Your feet carry you across the sandy ground on autopilot, and Jungkook exhales audibly as your palms smooth along the golden expanse of his muscular back, dipping down to the waistband of his black swim trunks. Ever since his visit to your bedroom last night, you’ve been itching to touch him—to feel every last inch of him. It’s impossible with your watchful brother and group of nosy friends hovering around though, so you settle for this—rubbing sunscreen into his warm skin while he sprays down his arms and legs.

“Thanks, princess,” he murmurs once you’re done, soft enough so that only you can hear and raising gooseflesh on the back of your neck. “Maybe next time, you’ll let me repay the favor.”

Then Yugyeom is calling his name, and Jungkook sprints down to the shoreline to join his friend in the crashing surf, his face creasing with laughter. Each time he emerges from the waves, droplets cling to his skin like glistening diamonds in the sunlight. It’s impossible to look away from the sight, and your tongue darts out to moisten your lips as you watch water drip off his hair and down his nape, pooling in his collarbones before he shakes his head like a dog and sends it spraying in all directions.

All that sunscreen is going to waste, a tiny voice in your head points out, but it’s hard to worry about that when you’re too busy following the path of the water streaming down past his dusky nipples to the ridges of his abdomen. And it’s almost as if he feels your gaze on him, because he’s suddenly staring right back at you, a wicked smirk tugging at his lips.

“Come on, Noona,” he calls, raking a hand through his drenched hair. “The water’s fine. Don’t make me drag you in.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” you call back, immediately regretting it when something equal parts mischievous and dangerous flashes across his face. There’s a glint in his eye that wasn’t there before, and you back away nervously as he emerges from the waves and saunters toward you. “Jungkook—”

“Yes?” he asks, his voice dropping down into a low purr. “What is it, princess?”

You edge around the towel that you’ve laid out in the sand, as if such a flimsy barrier could stop him in any way. “Just—just don’t dunk me under,” you plead.

Jungkook looks genuinely offended by that. “I would never,” he says, laying a hand over his heart and grabbing yours with his free one. “Now come on—let’s get you wet.”

You groan at the innuendo and try to tug free from his grip, but Jungkook only tightens his grasp, cackling the whole way down to the water.

///

The sun is just beginning to set, streaking the blue sky through with wispy strands of orange and gold, when Jimin raises his hand and declares it dinner time. For the past two hours, you’ve all been engrossed in a very tight three-on-three volleyball match with Jimin serving as referee, and upon hearing your brother’s declaration, Minho looks about ready to chuck the ball into the ocean.

“Dude, are you fucking serious? We’re literally two points from winning!” He gestures wildly at an invisible scoreboard only he can see. “No way we’re stopping here. I refuse on principle.”

“Yeah, I wanna see who the real winner is, too,” Jungkook drawls from the other end of the court, where he’s flanked on either side by Taehyung and Yugyeom. “I mean, we’ve been leading for most of the tournament, so…”

Minho scowls. “And we’re about to win the whole damn thing. Just you wait, Jeon.”

Behind him, you and Taemin exchange helpless glances. It isn’t the first time you’ve seen Jungkook and Minho squabble over the years, and you’re sure it won’t be the last. Both possess a razor sharp competitive streak and a certain pigheadedness that only emerges when it comes to athletic endeavors, and luckily, your brother knows this just as well as you do. Heaving a sigh, Jimin wearily gestures for them to continue, resuming his post at the end of the net. “Fine, fine,” he mutters. “Next point wins.”

On the other side of the net, Jungkook’s eyes narrow. “I’m good with that if you are.”

“Oh, I’m good,” Minho retorts. “It’s our serve. You ready?”

Jungkook smirks. “Bring it on.”

Minho cracks his knuckles and tosses the ball over to you for the serve. “All right then, let’s fucking do this.”

You sigh. Taking a deep breath, you heft up the ball, testing its weight before hitting it smoothly over the net. Yugyeom jumps up to intercept, batting it back over to your side, and Minho attempts to spike it back and into the sand. Unfortunately, Jungkook is too quick, and dives down to bump it back over to you. The back and forth continues like this for a while—you see Jimin boredly scrolling on his phone out of the corner of your eye—and you’re strongly considering calling it quits when Jungkook smashes the ball over the net and into the ground right at Minho’s feet.

“And that’s game,” he declares proudly, raking his sweaty hair off his forehead with a triumphant grin.

“Are you finally done?” Jimin asks, rolling his eyes and pocketing his phone. “Thank god. Can we eat now?”

Jungkook claps him on the back in affirmation, ignoring Minho’s loud, adamant protests that your team still technically won. Together, you head back to where your towels and bags sit in the sand, grabbing bottles of chilled water out of the cooler and fishing for snacks. Jimin pulls a package of hot dogs out while Taehyung rips open a bag of chips, and you follow their lead and grab the hamburger patties and buns. “Huh, I swear I bought ketchup,” you mumble to yourself as you rummage through the half-melted ice in the cooler. “Is it not in here?”

“I have it.” Jungkook materializes at your side, proffering the little red bottle. He’s pulled his white t-shirt back on, the material a stark contrast to his tanned skin, and you silently rise to your feet to take it when a sudden wave of lightheadedness rushes over you and sends the world spinning.

“Whoa,” you gasp, swaying on your feet. “Oh, god.”

Jungkook frowns and drops the ketchup bottle, steadying you until most of your weight is leaned against him. “Noona? Are you okay?”

You swallow, hard, and try to shake the unexpected bout of dizziness away. “I don’t know. Got dizzy, all of a sudden. I think I might have stood up too fast?”

Gently, Jungkook presses the back of his hand against your forehead. “You feel pretty warm,” he murmurs. “Have you had enough water today?”

“I thought I drank plenty, but maybe not,” you admit, and he nods decisively and gestures for you to follow him.

“Come on,” he says. “Let’s grab some water and go somewhere quiet so you can rest. Minho isn’t going to shut up about that match anytime soon, and it’s cooler down by the water.”

You laugh weakly. “We did technically win, you know. We had one more point than you guys.”

“God, not you too,” Jungkook sighs, casting you a playful look over his shoulder as he digs two bottles of water out from the cooler. He uncaps one and hands it over before taking a swig out of his, and you take a grateful sip, relishing in the cool liquid that trickles down your throat.

Nearby, your brother and the rest of the boys have commandeered one of several firepits scattered around the edges of the beach. They’re piling up pieces of driftwood and some of the long, tall sea grass that Taehyung has found, and Jungkook waves at them as he slowly guides you toward the ocean with a hand on your back. “We’re gonna go find some more wood!” he calls, and Jimin raises a hand in acknowledgment before turning back to the firepit.

Water laps gently at your toes as you and Jungkook walk along the shore, washing away all traces of your footprints. The sun dips below the horizon at last, illuminating the sky in one last burst of red and orange and gold that slowly fades into deep purples and blues as night falls. The temperature dips as the moon ascends to her lofty throne, accompanied by a smattering of starry pinpricks. Most of the beachgoers have packed up and left by this point, and here, with nothing but Jungkook’s quiet, familiar presence and the lapping waves, you feel more at peace than you have in a long time.

“You know, I’m really glad I came this weekend,” you say softly, breaking the comfortable silence that had fallen between the two of you. Your gaze drops down to your toes, fixing your attention on a pearly white seashell that’s sticking out from the wet sand. “I think you were right—I really did need a break from everything.”

“Sorry, I couldn’t quite catch that,” Jungkook says, swirling his pinky in his ear. “Could you say it again? Something about me being right?”

You roll your eyes. “Oh, shut up.”

Jungkook casts a quick look over his shoulder, and when you follow the trajectory of his gaze, you notice just how far you’ve gotten from the firepit where the others are sitting. Darkness has settled over the beach, the sand painted a wan silver from the light of the moon, and you flinch when Jungkook’s hand finds its way around yours.

“Jungkook—” you begin, but trail off when he twines your fingers together and gives your hand a squeeze.

“They can’t see us, Noona,” he murmurs. “Relax.”

Easier said than done, you want to say. Nevertheless, you suck in a deep breath and take another sip from your water bottle, trying to ignore the way Jungkook swings your interlocked hands between you as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“Shouldn’t—shouldn’t we be trying to find more driftwood?” you ask after several long seconds have dragged by. “We need way more if we’re gonna keep the fire going.”

Jungkook hums softly and veers inland, until the sand beneath your feet is dry and starts sticking to your wet toes. You come across a few scattered pieces of wood, dried out by the sun, and tuck them beneath your arm. Likewise, Jungkook gathers a few pieces of his own, hefting them up before reaching out to take your hand once more. His fingers slot all too comfortably into the spaces between yours, and your heart stutters a few times in your chest before plunking down into your churning stomach.

Nighttime has well and truly settled over the beach by the time you and Jungkook start picking your way back over to rejoin the group around the firepit. You pull your hand out of Jungkook’s well before you reach the ring of orange light that the flames cast across the sand, your arm now swinging free at your side and your fingers cold from the loss of his warmth. Silently, you hasten your pace and plop down onto the towel that Jimin has spread out, stretching out your legs toward the fire and wiggling your toes.

“Where have you guys been?” Jimin asks curiously. “You just kinda wandered off.”

“Getting more driftwood,” you reply, gesturing at the small pile you’ve dropped at the edge of the towel. “We told you that’s where we were going.”

Jimin frowns for a few seconds before the memory resurfaces. “Oh, right. I forgot.”

Jungkook snorts and takes a seat beside you, dropping his stack of driftwood on top of yours. “Dumbass.”

“You’re a dumbass,” Jimin retorts.

“You’re both dumbasses,” you sigh.

The fire crackles merrily, sending orange sparks up into the velvety black sky. There’s a grill situated over the flames, loaded with hamburger patties and hot dogs, and you watch as Jimin tears open a bag of hot dog buns and begins to place them around the edges.

“Hey, can you throw me the hamburger buns?” he asks you. “I wanna try toasting them.”

“You’re gonna burn them,” you tell him flatly. Nonetheless, you locate the second bag and toss it over, watching as he makes more room on the grill.

Dinner is a loud, chaotic affair, filled with laughter and conversation and plenty of booze to go around. Jimin has procured a flask of whiskey from somewhere in his clothing—an impressive feat in and of itself, considering he’s only wearing swim trunks and a thin blue t-shirt. You wave him off when he offers you a sip, and he shrugs and throws back a generous swallow himself. Then he offers it to Jungkook, who shakes his head and raises his water bottle. “Designated driver,” he says. “I’m sticking to water tonight.”

Curiously, you glance over at him. “You don’t have to do that. I wasn’t planning on drinking, so I can drive us back.”

“With the way you were looking earlier?” Jungkook fixes you with a look of pure disbelief. “Not a chance. Besides, we’re going back to the real world tomorrow, and the last thing I need is to be hungover. I have to get us back home in one piece, not to mention the entire menu I still have to memorize for work.”

You hum. Jungkook has mentioned his new job a few times—a summer stint working as a server at a new restaurant opened by a family friend named Seokjin. “Right, I remember you saying that. You start on Monday, don’t you?”

“Dinner shift,” Jungkook confirms. “I stole a whole bunch of pens from Junghyun’s room the other day in preparation. Jin said I’d probably end up losing two-thirds of them by the end of the week.”

“That sounds about right,” you tell him with a laugh. “Some guy stole my favorite pen last summer when I was working at that diner on Main. Lesson learned, forever.”

Jungkook laughs. “Yeah, I bet.”

You grin. “But, hey, seriously. If you need me to quiz you on that menu, I’ve got time to spare.”

“Honestly, I might take you up on that offer. I have flash cards, and everything.” He uncaps his water bottle and takes a long sip, his throat bobbing with each swallow, before glancing back over at you. “What about you? You ready for your internship?”

You sigh and offer him a helpless little shrug. “I’m not sure I’ll ever be ready, to be honest. I don’t think I’m going to stop stressing about it until I get through my first day. The entire thing still doesn’t feel real.”

“I get that,” Jungkook hums. “Well, I can imagine it, at least. I won’t pretend to know exactly what you’re going through, since I’ve never had an adult job, but—“ He shrugs a shoulder halfheartedly. “I can kind of relate, I guess.”

“All jobs suck a little bit,” you tell him, and Jungkook lets out a derisive huff of agreement.

“I’ll drink to that,” he says, and the two of you tap your water bottles together before rejoining the conversation with the rest of your friends.

///

The drive back to the lake house is shorter than you remember it being—though that might be because you spend most of it watching Jungkook drive. He steers with one hand slung carelessly over the wheel, his expression relaxed as he sings along to whatever pop hit plays on the radio. Unloading the car is a team effort, though you hear no shortage of complaints from Jimin as he heaves the cooler over the threshold of the house before collapsing atop it in a pile of limp limbs.

“Thanks for leaving me to carry this thing by myself,” he snarks, not even bothering to raise his head. “Really appreciate it.”

“Don’t be a baby,” Taehyung scoffs, tossing a game console at him. “Have a beer and pick something to play. We’re waiting on you.”

You watch as your brother immediately hops up and darts over to join the rest of the boys lounging in the living room, fighting back the sudden wave of exhaustion that washes over you. “I think I’m going to head to bed,” you tell them, hiding a yawn behind your hand. “Goodnight, guys.”

A chorus of goodnights and see you in the mornings rings out in response, and you wave before heading down the hall to your room and into the adjoining bathroom. Your hair is crusty from being submerged in the salty water of the ocean, and a shower to rejuvenate your dehydrated skin is just what you need. Turning on the tap, you wait until it’s flowing warm before stripping out of your clothes and tossing them onto your bed to deal with later. Then you step into the shower and tilt your head back, letting the water stream down your face and soak into your hair.

You’re midway through squeezing a generous dollop of shampoo into your palm when there’s a soft knock on the door. “Noona?” Jungkook’s voice filters through the sound of rushing water, low and lilting like a song. “You left kinda fast. Are you sure you’re feeling okay?”

You cap the shampoo bottle and replace it on the shelf, peering out from behind the shower curtain. “I’m fine,” you call, hesitating before you steel your nerves and continue. “You can come in, if you want. I don’t like yelling through the door.”

Slowly, the bathroom door eases open, revealing Jungkook standing in his and Jimin’s shared bedroom. His brown eyes are wide as he takes in the sight before him, and you have no doubt that he’s thinking about just what the palm tree patterned curtain is hiding from his view. Your lip finds its way between your teeth when you notice him shuffle his feet awkwardly for a moment before stepping a little closer to where you’re standing beneath the spray, his mouth opening to speak.

“Join me?”

The invitation slips past your lips, unbidden, but you have no intention of taking it back. Not when Jungkook’s gaze darkens to obsidian at those two simple words, his mouth snapping shut and his hands already reaching for the hem of his white t-shirt. Not when he strips it off in one smooth motion to reveal all the dips and ridges of his abdomen, his skin golden even under the harsh fluorescent bathroom lights. And certainly not when he pulls aside the shower curtain and joins you beneath the spray, his dark eyes appreciatively raking up and down your bare figure.

“Hey,” he says, his voice a low purr.

“Hi,” you respond, reaching out and trailing a fingertip down his chest.

And then you’re dropping down to your knees, your tongue darting out to tease at the tip of his already rising cock. One hand finds its way to his balls while the other traces the line of his pelvic bone, and you smirk when you feel him let out a shuddery breath.

“Fuck,” he rasps. “Someone’s eager.”

You wrap your lips around the tip of his cock, humming, and Jungkook’s fingers fly into your dampened hair. “Oh, fuck. You’re really trying to kill me, huh, princess?” he asks, and you respond by taking a little more of him into your mouth, laving at the vein running along the underside of his length before hollowing your cheeks. Jungkook throws his head back, a deep groan escaping his parted lips, and you preen under his encouragement as he urges you to take him deeper.

You’ve just begun to settle into a rhythm—figuring out exactly how much pressure he likes and what makes his hips buck—when he suddenly pushes you away. “Jung—” you begin, only to have him silence you with a searing kiss, grabbing you around the waist and hauling you to your feet.

“Wanna fuck you properly,” he rasps. His hand finds its way between your legs, experimental fingers sliding through the wetness that’s gathered there, and your cheeks heat up when he brings them to his mouth and licks them clean. “Just let me go grab a condom,” he whispers urgently. “Don’t move a muscle, okay? I’ll be righ—”

You silence him with a hard kiss. “Don’t,” you mumble. “I’m clean. Are you?”

Jungkook nods slowly, his eyes wide. “Does that mean… I mean, are you…?”

“I’m on the pill,” you murmur. “Fuck me raw, Jungkook.”

A sharp gasp escapes you when Jungkook cages you against the cool tiled wall of the shower, the slick surface dampened by the spray from the showerhead. He grabs ahold of your thigh and hoists it up to wrap around his waist, and you’ve never been more thankful for the ugly fish patterned shower mat that your mom insisted on putting down to prevent slipping. Jungkook nestles into the newly created space between your legs, his cock hot and slick against your center, and you keen when he grinds against you in a slow, deliberate motion.

“You feel that?” he rasps into your ear, his breath hot against your cheek. “Feel how hard you get me, Noona?”

“God, Jungkook,” you breathe back. “Just fuck me already, will you?”

His answering chuckle sends a shiver from your toes to your crown. “So needy,” he murmurs, his hand sliding from your thigh to your hip. His mouth seeks out yours as he positions the head of his cock at your entrance, meeting little resistance as he slowly begins pushing inside. Your walls part willingly for him and your lips do too—his questing tongue slipping inside when you moan and beginning his seemingly endless task of mapping out every corner of your mouth.

“God, I forgot how big you are,” you breathe when he bottoms out—the entirety of his hot, heavy length sheathed within your walls. Your head falls back against the tile as he rolls his hips experimentally, a moan that sounds vaguely like Jungkook’s name escaping your lips. Your arms come up to brace on his shoulders as he picks up his pace, but he intercepts one of your hands and twines your fingers together, settling them onto the wall just to the left of your head. His other hand returns to your thigh to keep you stable and spread out for his increasingly harsh thrusts, and you whimper helplessly in his ironclad grip.

“That’s it,” he whispers, groaning when you clench around him. “God, you’re so fucking tight, princess.”

“Fuck me open, then,” you moan back, squeezing his hand and meeting his next thrust with one of your own. Jungkook’s breathing stutters, and you laugh breathlessly at the way his mouth falls open at the spike of pleasure. Emboldened, you grind against him, the spray from the shower easing the movement. “Jungkook, please.”

He chuckles hoarsely. “Careful what you wish for,” he purrs against the shell of your ear, punctuating the warning with a harsh roll of his hips that sends all remaining thought flying out of your head. In this moment, there’s only Jungkook—his dark hair dampened and dripping, the spray from the showerhead slicking his chest and pooling in his clavicle before trailing down each ridge and dip of his honeyed skin. His lips find yours again, and you sigh into the kiss as he begins to fuck you in earnest.

“Hey, Jungkook! You in there?”

Your eyes fly open at the new voice, your body tensing when there are several loud bangs on the door. Jungkook freezes mid-thrust with an expression that can only be described as a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming truck, his throat bobbing nervously as he fights to find a response. You can practically see the gears whirring in his brain, and shove uselessly at his chest in an attempt to escape his steely embrace.

“That’s Jimin,” you hiss urgently, turning his face toward yours and prodding his cheek until his gaze refocuses. “What the fuck are we going to do?”

“Dude.” Jimin’s voice is laced with irritation. “I wanna brush my teeth! What the hell are you doing in there?”

Jungkook hesitates, glancing between you and the closed bathroom door. Then he inhales deeply, pressing a light kiss to your furrowed forehead before pulling the shower curtain closed, ensuring there are no gaps. “I got you,” he murmurs softly, his brown eyes boring into yours. “Don’t worry, okay?”

Your eyes flutter shut at the gentle pressure of his lips against your skin, but they fly open again when Jungkook breaks away and yells for Jimin to come in. Warm palms slide soothingly down your sides, but that doesn’t stop you from tensing up when the bathroom door creaks open, your brother’s soft footsteps approaching the flimsy palm tree patterned curtain.

“Have you been showering this whole time? Jeez. Leave some hot water for the rest of us, will you?”

Jungkook chuckles. Ever so slowly, he pushes forward until he’s fully seated inside you again, and you do your best to level a glare at him even as pleasure flares at the base of your spine. “There’s plenty to go around,” he says. “Relax.”

You get the distinct feeling that he’s not just addressing Jimin anymore. Jungkook pulls back until only the top of his cock remains nestled in your folds, and you open your mouth to berate him but all that comes out is a low moan when he sinks back inside you in one swift push.

On the other side of the curtain, you hear the faucet turn on. “Man, I can’t believe we leave tomorrow,” Jimin says over the sound of running water. “The weekend flew by.”

“Mmm,” Jungkook hums, brushing a thumb across your clit. The pace he’s set is slow and deep, and is made all the more sensual by the steam that’s steadily building up in the small room. You try once more to push him away—to quell the growing ache between your legs—but it’s all in vain as he chuckles softly into the crook of your neck, his bare shoulders quaking. “I got you, princess,” he murmurs, his voice a wicked little whisper that’s immediately lost in the spray of water. “Just let me take care of you, yeah?”

You don’t have a chance to answer. Jimin starts speaking again, this time accompanied by the sound of toothbrush bristles scrubbing against his teeth. “I’m starting up at the studio as soon as we get back—isn’t that crazy? I mean, I’ve never taught anyone how to dance before. Not really. Not for real.”

Jungkook snaps his hips up so sharply that you nearly mewl in surprise, forced to bite down into his meaty shoulder to muffle the noises that threaten to escape from your throat. “You’re a great tutor, man,” he says, his voice steady even as he resumes his slow, lazy thrusts, his cock dragging along your fluttering walls. “You’ve been helping people with math for, what, two years? What makes you think it’ll be any different with dancing?”

Jimin spits into the sink and sighs. “I don’t know. It’s scarier because there’ll be more people, I guess. Tutoring is one on one, y’know? And at the studio, I’ll have a full class of people watching me. Every single move I make, they’ll be looking at. That’s fucking terrifying to think about.”

Slowly, Jungkook’s hips still, his cock buried to the hilt in your cunt. Your heartbeat drums in your ears, backed by the relentless spray from the showerhead, and Jungkook leans down to plant a wet kiss on your cheek, his hair dripping.

“You’re a great dancer, Jimin,” he says once he’s pulled back and straightened back up to his full height. “Best one I know. You’re also one of the smartest people I know, but right now, you’re being really fucking dumb.”

There’s a clatter that sounds like a plastic toothbrush being dropped into the sink, and Jimin lets out an affronted squeak. “Hey!”

Jungkook just chuckles, his shoulders quaking. “It’s true,” he says easily. “Seriously, man. You don’t have a thing to worry about. You’re gonna kick ass out there, and your class is gonna be awesome. You’re already, what, almost maxed out on the number of registrants? You’re already killing it.”

Your brother lets out an unintelligible grumble on the other side of the shower curtain, but you can still hear the smile in his voice no matter how hard he tries to mask it. “All right, you fucking sap,” Jimin says at last, his soft footsteps padding toward the door. “Hurry up and get out of there, yeah? You’re really gonna use up all the hot water.”

The door clicks shut behind him, and you immediately smack Jungkook in the middle of his stupidly toned chest. “Oh my god!” you hiss. “Are you kidding me right now, Jeon? We could’ve been caught!”

“But we weren’t,” Jungkook replies easily, shaking his dampened hair out of his face and fixing you with an indolent little smirk. “So why don’t you be a good girl and cum for me now?”

///

The next morning brings with it a whirlwind of frenzied packing, and you mentally congratulate yourself for preemptively gathering all of your belongings together last night. Minho is wandering every last inch of the house with a piece of half-eaten toast dangling from his mouth, and you can hear Taehyung in the distance asking if anyone’s seen his strawberry body wash. Jungkook is seated on the floor near the front door, his brows furrowed and his lower lip jutting out in a pout as he fights to close the zipper of his suitcase.

“Got it!” he exclaims after a few seconds, triumphant. “Where’s your stuff, Noona? I’m gonna load the car.”

You begin to stand up from your spot on the couch. “It’s in my room, let me go get—”

Jungkook is on his feet and halfway down the hall before you can even finish your sentence. He returns a moment later with your luggage in tow, shooting you a grin and a wink as he passes by. “I got you, princess,” he murmurs. “Remember?”

Of course you do. You remember like it was yesterday—because, well, it was yesterday and you haven’t been able to stop thinking about it since. You remember the moment you shared at the beach and the way his hand felt so right wrapped around your own. You remember the way you’d dropped to your knees for him so readily in the shower last night. And you definitely remember the way he’d fucked you afterward—slow and deep in the best possible way, even with your brother’s untimely interruption.

After what feels like an eternity, both cars are finally packed and ready to go. You bid goodbye to the boys who are riding with Jimin, promising to stay in touch, before climbing into the passenger seat of Jungkook’s beat-up sedan. Jungkook himself is already lounging behind the wheel, his sunglasses perched low on his nose as he fiddles with his phone. He looks up at your entrance and flashes you a smile, tapping his screen a few more times before holding it up so you can see.

“I changed your contact photo,” he says. “Like it?”

You peer at his phone, and something in your chest clenches when you see the photo he’s selected. You’re on the beach beside the volleyball net, illuminated by the setting sun. The sky is streaked through with pink and orange behind you, but through some editing magic, Jungkook has made it so that you are glowing even brighter in the foreground—with laughter etched across your face and the wind in your hair. It’s a beautiful photograph, and you tell him so, unable to contain the dangerously warm affection blossoming in your chest.

“I love it,” you say. “I usually don’t like having my photo taken, but wow. You have a talent for this.”

Jungkook’s smile grows. “I have a pretty muse,” he replies, and your cheeks warm.

The door to the backseat opens with a bang, and you nearly jump out of your skin at the sudden sound. “Yo,” Yugyeom says, plopping down and buckling his seatbelt. “We ready to roll?”

Jungkook scowls and puts his phone back into his pocket. “Careful with the door, man. I need this thing to last through the summer.”

Yugyeom puts his hands up in apology, and Jungkook turns back to face the front, starting the ignition with a flick of his wrist. The engine sputters to life, and Jungkook waits for Jimin to pull out first before following after him, tailing the van out of the driveway and onto the winding road that will take you back into the city.

“Music?” you ask, gesturing at the stereo.

“Go for it,” Jungkook replies. “You want my phone so you can put on the roadtrip mix?”

“Sure.”

With the help of the upbeat music and Jungkook’s tendency to drive just a touch over the speed limit, you make it to the winding roads of Yugyeom’s neighborhood in what must be record time. “You missed the turn,” Yugyeom says lazily from where he’s sprawled across the entire backseat. “Turn left here—we can circle around and approach from the other side.”

Two more turns and a descent down a steep hill later, Jungkook manages to successfully drop Yugyeom off at his house. The drive across town takes no time at all, and before long, you’re cruising into your neighborhood, coasting past Jungkook’s driveway and straight into yours.

“Looks like we beat Jimin back,” you remark, looking at the empty spot where the van usually sits.

Jungkook hums. “Makes sense. He has more people to drop off.”

“Mm. Yeah.”

The sudden awkwardness that falls doesn’t go unnoticed by you. Clearing your throat, you reach for your purse, grabbing it from where it’s fallen to the ground near your feet. “I guess I’ll see you around then,” you begin, turning to open the door.

A strong hand wraps around your wrist, forcing you back into your seat. “Is that it?” Jungkook asks, and there’s an edge of something you can’t quite place in his voice. “Are you gonna go back to pretending like there’s nothing between us?”

You shake him free. “There isn’t anything between us,” you whisper. “We’re not on vacation anymore, Jungkook. We’re back home. Back to real life. We can’t do—whatever it is that we’ve been doing.”

“But you’re attracted to me,” Jungkook growls. “You like me. So why do you keep running away?”

A sigh escapes you. “Jungkook, it doesn’t matter if I like you or no—”

He interrupts before you can even finish your sentence. “Yes it does. It’s the only thing that matters.” And then he’s pulling you into his chest, taking advantage of your skewed sense of balance, and crushing his mouth to yours.

This kiss is different from the others you’ve shared so far. It’s hungry and passionate, and yet it’s tinged with something else—something that feels strangely akin to desperation. Jungkook kisses you with urgency, and it’s so raw and unbridled that it steals the very breath from your lungs and leaves you lightheaded.

Jungkook doesn’t say a word when he pulls away. Instead, he reaches down, popping the handle that opens the trunk and stepping out to pull your suitcase from within. Silently, he presses the handle into your hand.

And then he’s turning—climbing back into his car and leaving you with nothing but the memory of his lips and a whirlwind of thoughts in your mind.

[tpwkay]

Medicine (h.s.)

You’re finally given permission to cover the song you’ve wanted to perform for years and a special surprise during your performance sweeps you off of your feet.

Word count: 11.5k

Rating/warnings: NSFW - A lot of this is plot but there is smut as well. Contains explicit language and consensual sex acts between a man and woman. This is a story written in the 2nd person (“self insert"). This isn’t written to be exclusionary, it’s just my preferred style! Author’s note can be found at the end!

"Ladies and gentlemen, I cannot thank you enough for coming out tonight to listen to me and the band. We've got a couple more songs coming up for you but I just wanted to take a minute to tell y'all how much we appreciate you." You gesture to yourself and the band behind you as the lights on stage come up a bit. "We wouldn't be where we are without your support. From the bottom of our hearts, thank you!"

The crowd cheers and you can't help but experience an insurmountable feeling of joy. It never gets old. You'd been in the spotlight for a few years now, already at the end of touring your second album, though the size and scope of venues this time around was much, much larger. There was nothing that compared to being able to sing your own songs and have a crowd of thousands scream them right back at you.

Being an up-and-coming singer and songwriter in the genre of country music hadn't been easy. Girls your type had been a dime a dozen, hoards of Taylor Swift-wannabes covering "Teardrops on My Guitar" during open mic night. You held nothing against them; there was a path to success for everyone, but yours had been, well, different. 

It was a karaoke cover of Brooks & Dunn's "Boot Scootin' Boogie", a song that you'd been singing since you were a toddler, that had gotten you noticed by a recording artist one night while out with your girlfriends, which led you to where you stand now, performing in front of thousands. You were liked for the range of your voice, with it's easy easy transitions from the sounds of pop to country and rock, in addition to the way you performed, and your take-no-shit attitude towards the entirety of the industry. People liked that you were forward and left nothing on the table, though you had to admit that it was mostly an act, a means of coping with the pressure of working your way to the top.

///

"It's refreshing!" Jax, your manager, had shouted one day, arms flailing as you had argued that maybe your attitude was going to get you into trouble one of these days.

"Aren't you, as, you know, my manager, supposed to be the one keeps me in line?"

"You aren't out doing coke, killing anyone, public indecency and all that," he had shrugged. "Far as I'm concerned, you are in line. People talk about you because of your attitude. They like it! They like you. Why is that so hard for you to accept sometimes?"

"Maybe I just haven't been caught doing those things," you grinned, effectively dodging his question. Fame hadn't helped break down the walls that you'd long ago built around yourself. If anything, you had done some reinforcing, built a moat even, in an effort to ensure that you protected yourself from getting too close to anyone that would only end up using you in the end. You had seen the way people in life had been used, and what it ultimately led them to, and you had promised yourself long ago that even if it meant being known as the Boot Scootin' Bitch, you would protect yourself and your heart at all costs. 

"Your momma would tan your hide for much less than any of those, you know. Hell, you should be more afraid of her than you are of me or anyone else… 'cept maybe God."

///

You shake your head, working the memories free from your mind as you grab a bottle of water from the platform on which the drum set rests.

There's one more song of yours to sing before you performed a new cover, the one you had been looking forward to for months. Although you'd gotten permission to perform it not long into the start of your tour, the set list had been rehearsed already and every other detail ironed out around it. You'd convinced Jax and the crew to let you slot it into the last concert of the tour, Austin, Texas. These folks knew their music and for some reason, they liked you so you were thrilled to be able to share something new with the crowd that had welcomed you to their city with open arms. 

You grab your guitar off its stand and slide the strap over your shoulders, adjusting it as you step forwards to the mic stand. A shimmering blue shirt catches your eye in the crowd and you do a double take because surely it can't be Harry because he's—

And it's not him, of course, though the fashion of the gentleman in the pit area would surely catch his eye as well as it's right up his alley. It's not him - it can't be him - because you know exactly where he is right now and it's not in the pit of your Austin performance. 

A grin stretches over your face as you think of him. You strum the first chord of the first song you'd ever written about him, although there had been many more since. He probably knew this one was about him, having come just after your first meeting. 

/// 

A friend of yours was good friends with Kacey, who had been the guest artist that night. Her name had been added to the VIP list and in the summer of 2018, just as you were hitting your own stride in your career, you tagged along with her to Harry Styles' live tour performance in your hometown of Nashville. 

If you were being honest, prior to his concert, you hadn't heard much of his solo work, apart from the various huge hits like his Kiwi or Watermelon Sugar and a few other ballads. You liked his sound, seemingly influenced heavily by rock stars of days past, but you'd had other influences to worry about in your own side of the industry. 

Sure, he had country music connections through the likes of Kacey Musgraves and Cam, and legends like Stevie Nicks, but his pop and soft rock style was pretty far removed from most country playlists that you yourself had graced. Your genres just didn't cross paths and the two of you seemingly operated in different realms of the music industry, topping your own charts and breaking your own peer's records. 

Of course, you hadn't been completely oblivious to The Harry Styles. One Direction had been too big of a deal to ignore and you'd often found yourself bopping along to their old hits, singing along as they played amongst the other nostalgic pop hits to which you listened. 

The concert had been in June, a hot sunny day followed by a perfect breezy evening. Downtown Nashville was always busy, but that night the city seemed to buzz, bright with music and life. After meeting for drinks at Acme on the River, you allowed yourself to luxuriate in getting lost in the crowd that milled about on Broadway. It was a surprising thing to not be recognized in your hometown, but you weren't one to complain about it. It was one reason that you value your time in Nashville over other music-centric cities like Los Angeles - it seemed that people here respected the private lives of musicians. There was an odd fan here and there, but you'd lived a majority of your "famous" life in Nashville in relative peace. 

You were early to the venue, your friend having wanted to have a chance to see Kacey backstage. You were excited to finally meet the star - though you'd been around the block of fame a bit already, there would always be people that you never had an opportunity to meet in passing. You had been greeted at will call and had been led backstage.

The arena was alive with excitement. At that point, you yourself had never toured a venue that large, so the experience of being backstage and seeing the operations first hand were thrilling and a bit overwhelming. In her dressing room, Kacey pulled you straight into a hug, gushing about how excited she was to watch your career take off. She insisted on sharing her personal cell phone number with you, urging you to call her to get together on a collaboration. You were in shock leaving her room, blown away by her kindness and the way the music industry worked in the most bizarre of ways, when you turned a corner and ran smack into a tall, solid, smiling Harry Styles. His arms had come out quickly to steady you on your heels boots. 

"Fuck," you swore, shaking your head at your clumsiness. "I am so sorry. What a great way to introduce myself."

He laughed and the sound flowed through you, warm and sweet like a cup of tea with honey. "Y'alright?" His eyes looked you over, and you couldn't help but notice the way they lingered. 

Your cheeks blushed and a wave of embarrassment washed over you. "I'm the one that should be asking you that. I don't think your adoring fans would be very happy if I took you out with a textbook tackle right before you're due to go on stage." You took a moment to give him the same appreciative glance he had already given you, admiring the way his deep blue custom-beaded suit jacket fell open to reveal a black dress shirt, unbuttoned halfway down his chest. 

"Ah, 'm fine. Lil' thing like you couldn't do too much damage to me, even in those heels. Don't think they'd be very happy though," he said, nodding his head in acknowledgement of the already-rowdy crowd while offering his hand. "I'm Harry."

You laughed as you introduced yourself, shaking his hand. 

"I've heard that name before, but I'm sorry to say that I don't recognize you. You don't seem like one that's easy to forget."

"I sing, write music," you shrugged, not sure how to explain to a superstar that you were on the way up, yet still somewhere much farther down the fame totem pole than him. "Country, mostly. Not sure if that's on your radar."

"The new stuff's not, but I may have to change that." He was tapped by one of the event producers, needed for another pre-show procedure. "Where will you be tonight?" 

"To your right, in the pit."

He smiled and you had almost immediately fallen in love with the crinkles that appeared under the corners of his eyes. "I'll look out for you. It was wonderful meeting you. Oh, shit, wait, just remembered— may I?" he gestured for the phone that was in your hand and you unlocked it before passing it to him. 

You watched as he dialed a number and put the phone to his ear. He paused for a moment before he grinned. "Hi Harry, it's you from before the show. This is a message to remind you to text this number and ask the owner of it out on a date. She's the one with the beautiful smile and great tackling skills. You won"t have forgotten her. 'Kay, bye!"

You laughed at an almost embarrassing volume, blown away by his cheek. 

"Why not ask 'her' out now?" you pondered to him as he handed the phone back.

"What, and risk getting shot down? Wouldn't want to be sad and disappointed through my whole show, now would I?"

"It would make the ballads a bit more emotional," you had reasoned with a grin.

"Ouch! They're already filled with emotion, love. You'll see, I'll sing 'em right to you if I have to. Gotta run, thank you for letting me use your phone, that was a very important message!"

You laughed again as he took off. "Harry!" you had shouted to get his attention in the busy hall. He turned quickly, a small smile on his face. "She definitely won't say no, but you can wait until later to ask if you want to."

His grin stretched wider and he'd pumped a fist in the air before turning and jogging down the hallway. 

You liked to joke with anyone who knew the story that your life had changed that day all because you met Kacey. Which wasn't a complete lie - it had been her dressing room you'd come out of before slamming into Harry in the hallway. 

///

Singing the last lines of one of your songs, your stomach began to flutter in a bit of nervousness and a lot of excitement. Performing the next cover was something you had been looking forward to for months, and the moment that you got to share it with your fans was finally here. 

You retreat from the mic stand to pass your guitar off to a stagehand, taking another sip of water to settle yourself. 

"Doing alright?" Wyatt, your drummer, shouts over the pounding bass drum and you give him a thumbs up before turning back to face the crowd. 

"I've got one more cover to play for y'all tonight," you say, grasping the mic stand to keep your hands from shaking. "I've been working on getting permission to play this one for quite awhile now. I fell in love with it the first time I heard it played and now here I am, performing it for you all. It's an unreleased piece by a very, very good friend of mine, but his performances of it are all over the internet so some of you may know the words. This song is called Medicine."

The song starts out with a steady bass line and the rhythm centers you a bit, steadying any nerves that still linger. The intro gives you a minute to shake out your shoulders and get comfortable at the mic stand once more like Harry does at each performance. You catch yourself having fun mimicking him and feel thankful that you're able to perform one of your favorite songs of his. When the bass drops in pitch and the electric guitar riffs, you slide in close to the mic stand.

"Here to take my medicine, take my medicine," you sang the opening lines, already settling into the sexy rock sound of the song you and the band had rehearsed relentlessly over the last few weeks. No, the genre wasn't one you normally dabbled in, but part of the fun of performing was taking chances, risks. You had to admit, you liked the sound a lot. It tempted you to branch out a bit more on your upcoming album. 

The opening lines of the first verse throw you back into thoughts of meeting Harry that first night. You hadn't imagined what would follow the concert, let alone have the foresight to see it bringing you to this very moment in time. 

///

You had been standing outside the arena after the concert, ears buzzing and heart thumping still from the incredible show Harry had put on. As soon as he disappeared from the backstage hall earlier, you had immediately saved his number to your phone, still in disbelief over the night's events. 

Your heart had soared when your phone began to vibrate, not in a text message but in a voice call. Harry's name appeared on the screen and your friend had nudged you, clearly approving of the night's turn of events. 

"Harry," you answered, ready to praise him halfway to Sunday on his performance. 

"Let me take you out," he interrupted you. "Right now. Please? Anywhere you want to go." 

You laughed and paused. "Yeah, okay. I might know of a place."

There was a lot of shuffling on his end before his voice came back on the line. "Might've had to do another fist pump."

"Told you she wouldn't say no."

"Where are you?" You heard the smile in his voice, already familiar with it. 

"Demonbreun and John Lewis, headed towards the park."

"Give me 10, I'll pick you up." He paused. "Be careful, okay?"

"I'll stick with the hoards of your fans milling about, maybe ask some of them for the hot gossip on you while I wait."

"Don't believe anything they say," he said, and you could tell he was still smiling as he hung up. 

He and his driver arrived shortly after, Harry's hair damp and covered with a baseball cap, dressed down in black pants and a simple loose white shirt, tattoos peeking out everywhere you looked. He exited the car and opened the back door for you, helping you balance as you stepped up into the large Suburban. 

"We'll go to Pecker's," you said to his driver, laughing as Harry snorted next to you. "Shut up, it's just a bar. Take a right up here onto 24 and it'll take us all the way to Fairfield. It'll be on the right."

He looked at you and smiled before reaching out to hold your hand in the middle seat between you. 

Taking Harry to Pecker's had just felt right. It was where you'd been discovered, where all of your adventures had started, and you weren't sure why but you wanted to share that small part of you with him after watching him up on stage that night. 

"Won't people recognize you? I looked you up before the show, you're apparently a pretty big deal around here." He had asked, smirking, sipping on the locally-brewed beer that Clint, the regular bartender, was serving that night. 

"Locals are pretty good about not interrupting our normal lives. Pecker's isn't as well known to tourists either, so it's a good hideout. This is where a lot of producers, executives and all the other professionals come to unwind." You ignored his comment on your fame and had taken a sip of your margarita instead. "Unless, of course, there's a drag show scheduled, then it's a bit of a madhouse."

Harry laughs into his drink and you grin. "So," he started after a pause, twiddling with the rings on his right hand. "What'd you think?"

"It was incredible," you said without hesitation. "Truly one of the best live shows I've seen in a long time, country acts included. You've got such a magnetism about you that people can't help but want to watch." You blushed a bit, alcohol and the quick comfort of him loosening your lips. "The whole water spraying trick was hot," you admit, making him blush. "And don't tell Stevie, but I think I might prefer your version of The Chain."

"Sacrilege! That's some incredibly high praise," he said, a small smile teasing at the corners of his mouth. 

"Earned and deserved," you said, tilting your glass to his. "Honestly, Harry, you're an incredible musician. There aren't many out there that have the whole package like that."

"What about you? You seem like the whole package."

"I don't know if I'd say that. If you looked me up, you've likely seen what they say about me. 'My attitude won't get me far' and all. But I don't think it's my attitude, so much as it is my willingness to take the risks that others won't. I'm not out here to make music that's just there to be sold. Hell, I couldn't care less about the money. All I want is to create music that makes me feel fulfilled, and I think that honesty scares them." You twirled your finger in the condensation of the glass in front of you. You glanced up to his face finding his eyes already on yours, holding your gaze steadily. "It doesn't scare you, does it?"

"It's the most refreshing thing I've heard in a while. Not many people in the industry are fearless in the face of failure like that."

"I'm definitely not fearless; I just refuse to change who I am to make a buck."

"Who are you then?" Harry had asked, and telling him your story was easy. You couldn't understand how it was so natural, opening up to a stranger, but as the conversation wore on, you realized how similar you and Harry were in terms of the way you conducted your professional lives and that was without apology. 

And you also realized, as the evening continued and you and Harry crept your bar stools closer and closer to one another, feet and knees bumping, his fingers tracing the ridges of your knuckles as you shared life stories like long lost friends, that you didn't want it to end. 

///

"He's acting like a gentleman," you continue, changing up the lyrics slightly as you finish the first verse. The line always made you smile and you let yourself briefly flash back into your reminiscing about the night you'd met Harry, and how, even though he had acted gentlemanly upon dropping you off for the evening, you wanted to be anything but a gentlewoman. 

///

After enjoying drinks late into the evening at Pecker's, Harry had insisted on having his driver take you home rather than allowing you to call an Uber. 

"Such a gentleman," you commented as he opened the car door for you once again. 

"Maybe my gentlemanly actions have motives," he said, sliding his hand along your lower back as you step past him and into the car. Your grin matched his smirk as he shut the door and you decided that he'd been right - not calling an Uber was the right thing to do.

The car ride back to your apartment building was too quick and before you knew it, he was at your door again, offering a hand for you to hold for balance as you exited the car. Neither of you let go as you walked through the lobby towards the elevators. 

"You're uh— You're welcome to come up, if you'd like," you said, suddenly shy but not wanting to chicken out on asking for what you wanted, asking for some continuation of this sweet but likely brief meeting between you two. "For a drink, I mean, or to keep chatting, you know."

Harry smiled and glanced around the empty lobby. His hand in yours smoothed up the length of your arm, over your shoulder, and came to rest at your jaw. "I'd love to, believe me. You have no idea how much I want to." He leaned towards you, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead and your skin burned at the contact of his lips. "But I want to do this the right way. Don't want you to get the wrong idea of me."

"What if I want the wrong idea of you?"

He laughed, the sound open and honest and it had given you hope. "You called me a gentleman earlier and I have to admit that I liked it, coming from you. Would like to keep up the facade that I am, even if it's just for a bit." His face searched yours, each of you trying to read the thoughts that were flying through one another's minds. "You have beautiful lips," he whispered suddenly, his accent thicker than it had been all night. 

Your mouth quirked into a smile, unable to do anything but preen at his compliment. "You do too," you replied, just as softly. 

"Can I kiss you?"

"Please, yes." Before the words had settled he was kissing you, slowly and with too much care, like you would break if he wasn't gentle enough. It was over much too quick but you knew you would remember every moment of it for the rest of your life. 

"Christ, I'd wanted to do that all night." His thumb smoothed over your cheekbone, smiling when you leaned into the touch. He glanced up as the elevator doors swung open and gently nudged you towards them. "Thank you, truly, for a wonderful evening. I promise to give you a call soon."

"I'll send Kacey after you if you don't!" you laughed, stepping into the lift.

"Good night darling." He winked and the doors slid shut, leaving you alone with your thoughts and the delicious ghost of his lips on yours. 

///

"Give me that adrenaline, that adrenaline, think I'm gonna stick with you," you finish the first verse as Ryann rips through the chords on her guitar. You loved that the song built slowly, and even though that meant a quieter beginning, it promised an explosive end. 

Though the crowd had been hesitant at first, you can see that the first few rows of them are nodding along, countless phones out recording the performance. You know that somewhere out there at your request is a member of your press team, professionally filming the cover. You may only be doing it once, but you were determined to make sure you would never forget it.

///

You had enough time at home to check some of your social media accounts, shower and get comfortable in bed before your phone rang again. For the second time that day, your heart soared seeing Harry's name light up your screen.

"If you're going to say that you're downstairs because you've reconsidered my offer for that nightcap, I'll need a few moments to prepare as I'm currently in my pajamas," you said as a greeting and you were met with his warm laughter once again.

"No, no, I had to go back to the arena for a bit anyways, pack up and all of that," he said, still chuckling. "I just— I wanted to make sure you weren't offended by me declining your offer. Because I wanted to— I didn't want the night to end there. There's something about you that's… Transfixing. And I don't want to ruin that and make you think you're just a fling."

"That's quite a compliment," you said, a bit awed by his words.

"What was it you said earlier, "earned and deserved", yeah?" He said, quoting your toast to him at the bar, making you grin. "I want you to be more than that. I'd like to get to know you, the gentlemanly way."

"Okay. Will we have a chaperone at our next date then?" He laughed but didn't correct your referral to that evening as a date. You had snuggled a bit deeper into the sheets, still disbelieving that all of this had been the result of being dragged along to a concert. 

"No chaperones," he chuckled, "but yes, I do want to take you out again, if you'd let me."

"Hmm," you jokingly pondered aloud, as if answering with anything other than a resounding "yes" was on your mind. "I suppose I could fit something into my schedule."

"I hope that's a yes."

"Of course it's a yes! I didn't want the night to end either. And don't you dare say that you just did another fist pump," you had laughed, hearing the familiar shuffling of the phone on his end of the line.

"Me? Never!"

"You're adorable," you had said, a smile stuck on your face.

"And you're beautiful. Two can play this game."

There had been a comforting silence between you for a moment before you had spoken up again. "Harry?"

"Yeah, love?"

You had blushed at the pet name but loved the way it sounded being directed your way. "Thank you," you had whispered. 

"Should be me thanking you. Sleep well sweetheart." You'd fallen asleep with your phone in hand, hopeful that you wouldn't wake up the next morning to realize it had all been a dream.

/// 

It hadn't been a dream, and here you were, nearly two years later, performing one of the songs that Harry himself had sung the night that you'd begun falling for him.

The second verse continued quickly and you let the lyrics wash over you as you sang, loving the way the rock energy of the song sounded with a bit of your band's country influence. 

"Here to take my medicine, take my medicine, rest it on your fingertips," you sang, holding your pointer finger in the air much like Harry did every time he performed the song before bringing it to your lips as you sang the next line. "Up to your mouth, feeling it out, feeling it out."

/// 

Beginning to date Harry - properly date him too, not just make FaceTime calls to one another from across the world and sending texts back and forth until the wee hours of the morning thanks to the differences in time zones, sharing everything and more with one another as best you could digitally - had been the most exhilarating experience of your life, and you had performed in front of sold out crowds and accepted awards on live television. His tour was due to stretch on for almost another month throughout North America and the next time you saw him was when you'd been invited as Harry's guest to his show in Chicago just a few weeks after you'd met. 

While he had put on an incredible show for the United Center, there had been moments that felt like he was performing just for you, glancing over to where you stood in the Friends and Family area, meeting your eyes and grinning. By that point, you could sing along to every song of his and you knew he loved it, loved watching you dance along to the music that he had created and was performing. 

In a moment where you were thankful for the differences between the genres in which you two performed, you hadn't been recognized at all by his fans. You'd both talked about wanting to keep things quiet as you got to know one another, and you hadn't wanted a relationship with him, an already incredibly famous artist, to somehow influence the trajectory of yours. While it had been easy when you were apart, being together without seemingly being together was difficult. Especially in that moment, when all you wanted to do was curl up into him and soak in the post-show bliss with him. Instead, you sat on the couch with him, a cushion apart from one another, holding his hand tightly while you chatted about the concert. 

"Someone is gonna notice that you looked to my side of the pit constantly all night," you said and he grinned guiltily. 

"I like knowing you're in the crowd," he shrugged. "Besides," he scooted closer and threw his arm around you before dragging you in close, "you look incredible, how could I not want to stare at you all night?"

"Anyone could walk in," you pointed out, watching as his eyes followed your lips. 

"Just want a little taste," he said, moving in closer, "Haven't I earned a kiss from my girlfriend after all of that work up on stage?"

Your eyebrows raised in surprise as you looked at him and he seemingly realized his slip-up. 

"I mean— What I meant was— Shit," he scrubbed a hand over his face but you could tell he was hiding a grin. "Wasn't exactly how I wanted to ask you, but… Will you officially be my girlfriend?"

"Yes, H. I'm all yours."

"Love it when you call me H." He pulled you in for a kiss that you both lost yourselves in, finally able to experience the feeling of one another after being denied it for so long. When a knock at the dressing room door came, Harry had to all but drag himself away from you, hair disheveled and lips swollen, scowling at the door. 

You threw your head back and laughed as he stalked over and pulled it open with a flourish. 

"What?"

"The hell's your issue?" you heard Mitch ask before Harry widened the door so he could see you laughing on the couch. You raised a hand in greeting and Harry's scowl deepened as Mitch chuckled, taking in both of your disheveled appearances. "Oh, shit, hey, sorry. Uh, car's ready when you are. See you tomorrow bud." 

"Harry!" you chided once he'd closed the door in Mitch's face, giggles still bubbling out of your mouth. "He was just being polite."

"Interrupting arse is what he is," Harry said, sitting down and pulling you into his lap. "Where were we?"

You threw your arms around his neck and pressed your body as close to his as possible, hoping that he'd thought to lock the door before returning to your embrace. "Right about here, I think." With a hand on your hip, sliding under your shirt to reach warm skin and one at the back of your neck, Harry kissed you until you were breathless and not only wanting more but very seriously needing it. 

"Come back to the hotel with me," he murmured against your lips as you ground your body down on him, reveling in the way the action made him throw his head against the back of the couch and exhale sharply. 

"You sure?" Your hands smoothed over the chest of his skin, tracing the dark swallows with your fingertips as you rolled your hips. 

He shuddered at the light touch and gripped your hips tightly, pressing his up as you pressed yours down and the action made you sigh, the pressure a delicious tease of what was hopefully to come. "Absolutely," he said, his grin telling you he was pleased with the noises he was causing you to make. "Want you so bad, like I won't be able to breathe right until I properly have you."

You leaned in to kiss at his neck, his shower-damp curls tickling your cheek. "The feeling is mutual. Adored watching you up on stage tonight. Have I told you yet how much I love seeing you perform?" You nuzzle at his neck, urging him to tilt his head back farther, exposing more of his skin to you. 

"Yeah, you have, but tell me again," he sighed, his hands running up and down your back. 

"It's like when you get on stage no one else before or after you matters," you said honestly, letting your lips against his skin hide how truthful you were really being, spilling all of your thoughts about seeing Harry up on stage. It was scary, feeling so deeply for him already. But you wanted him to know, at least in part, what it meant to be able to watch him perform. "Something about your live voice just makes my breath catch in my throat, I can't get enough of it."

Harry breathed deeply for a moment, working to center himself while you nosed at the curls around his ear and heaped praise upon him. 

"It's like you connect with every person out in the crowd, like you're singing just for them. You can tell that you're having fun and people want to join you in that. They know you love the attention," you whispered and he hummed in appreciation (or agreement), the sound low in his throat. "They'd stay out there all night for if they could, screaming about how much they love you."

"And you feed into it, playing it up for them. You know exactly what you're doing when you get to act a little bit naughty up there, driving them all mad," you said with a smile. 

He chuckled and you could hear and feel the sound rumble through him. "Played it up for you tonight. Did it work?" 

"You mean did it make me want to jump your bones the second you came off stage? Yeah, it worked."

"Fucking hell," he said, holding you close with his hands on your butt as he stood up. "Our first time is not going to be in a dressing room so we need to go now."

He let you slide down his body and held you steady as you balanced on your legs. "Would be pretty fitting though, don't you think, given how we met and what we do?"

"Yeah, but then I'd think about it every time I was in one. You wanna torture me relentlessly?" He pulled you tight against him, kissing you once more before separating to grab his bags. 

"Yeah, relentless torture sounds like something I might be into." 

He glanced up at your words, eyes dark and hungry, a smirk on his lips. "Careful what you wish for, love." 

///

The bass line increased behind the riff of Ryann's guitar and you leaned into the mic stand, eyes closing as you continued singing the first bridge. "I had a few, got drunk on you and now I'm wasted, and when I sleep I'm gonna dream of how you…"

There were a few fans of yours and Harry's who apparently knew the words as they helped you out, screaming the unwritten word that finished the sentence: "tasted."

///

Harry was quick to say goodbye to everyone on the team before pulling you quickly through back hallways and down quiet staircases, sneaking quick kisses when he was sure there was no one around. You were both out of breath when you finally climbed into the car, grinning like kids getting away with sneaking around. 

The hotel ride was quick, mercifully, but Harry had been anything but patient, his hand at your knee creeping up slowly, closer and closer to the hem of your dress, toying with the hem while he chatted with the driver. 

"I'm gonna head in first with Martin and Eric will loop around and drop you off at the side entrance. I would wait in the lobby for you but this hotel hasn't been the best in the past with uh— containing sensitive information, we'll say, so Martin will meet you on your floor to get your stuff, then bring you up. Is that okay?"

"You sound like you've done this before, Styles," you said with a wink, using humor to cover the nerves that had settled in the pit of your stomach. 

He blushed and you loved knowing you got under his skin so easily. "The band used to stay here when we toured… and I was young and dumb once, yes."

"Just giving you a hard time, H."

His grin stretched as he leaned over to peck your lips once more. "See you in a minute, love."

Harry climbed out and the driver took off once again, slowly circling the block. "He's quite taken with you, you know," he said, glancing up in the rear view mirror as he parked the car at the curb. He got out and opened the door for you in the empty street then used his keycard to unlock the heavy side door of the hotel.

"Thank you," you said, both for his actions and his omission about Harry. Sure, you had talked to him as often as possible over the last weeks and had yourself been on the receiving end of his attention, but it felt validating to hear that Harry's feelings for you may have gone a bit farther than just a small crush if people around him had also noticed his behavior. 

Harry's bodyguard was waiting by the elevators and escorted you to your room to gather your luggage, then led you to Harry's door.

"Car'll be around about 9 tomorrow morning, H. Flight's at 10:30." He turned to you. "I understand you have business to continue here in Chicago?"

"Yes, meetings tomorrow and then I fly back to Nashville in the evening."

"There'll be a driver ready for you tomorrow as well. He's been instructed to take you wherever you need to go and he'll stay until you depart. Have a nice evening," he nodded at Harry, who was smiling in the doorway, before departing.

"You didn't have to do that for me, I could've managed by getting an Uber," you said, stepping into the room past Harry to set your bags down and kick your shoes off. 

"I didn't, was Martin's idea; says he doesn't want anything to happen to the one thing that's made me so happy these last few weeks."

"Oh yeah? I'm the one thing, huh?"

"You're everything, honestly," he replied a bit sheepishly, taking your hands in his. "Think I might like you a bit more than I already should. Lettin' my heart get a bit ahead of my head, I suppose."

"Yeah, I know the feeling," you said softly and he beamed. 

He moved his hands up to cup your face, pulling you close for a sweet kiss that quickly turned insistent, heat rising between the two of you. Harry slid his hands under the hem of your shirt to rest where your spin ended and yours wrapped around his neck, dragging him down to you as you stepped behind you towards the bed. His long legs tangled with yours and you tumbled backwards, laughing as you hit the plush bed and Harry collapsed on top of you.

He propped himself up on his elbows and looked down at you with a smile, pushing the hair that had fallen into your face aside. "Hi baby," he said softly.

"Hi."

"Missed you," he said, leaning down for another sweet kiss. 

"We were apart for like, eight minutes," you giggled between his kisses, your laughter giving way to a sigh as he moved to press a kiss to your nose, your cheek, your chin.

"Doesn't matter," he breathed into the crook of your neck, pressing small open mouth kisses to the soft skin there, "Any time apart is too long."

"The two weeks left of the tour will fly by. You should enjoy them while you can."  

"Wish you could come with me, love performing for you." He kissed his way across the base of your neck, collarbone to collarbone as his fingers trailed to the small straps on your shoulders. "Would you like to take this off?"

"Please," you sighed, desperate and aching for the feeling of his skin against yours. 

Your first time sleeping with Harry had been exactly what you'd wanted and expected - hot and fast, admittedly over a bit more quickly than either of you had wanted, but worth the weeks of wait. 

Harry's skill set hadn't ended at singing and playing instruments. If anything, his vast experience using his hands and mouth only helped him excel in other pastimes that also utilized those parts of his body. To both of your delights, he had proven his adeptness in all areas multiple times that night, and once again in the morning before he had to rush into the shower, dragging you along with him simply to get more time together before you were forced apart once again. 

/// 

You had spent the next two months away from one another, Harry having wrapped his tour and immediately beginning work on his next album. You'd spent your own time mixed between writing and recording an upcoming single. You had already written a handful of songs that were inspired by him and you'd wondered, albeit a bit nervously, if the sentiment was shared. When he stopped in Nashville on a long layover, pushing his flight back even longer to stay with you for another night, you'd tried to pry the information out of him. Unfortunately, no amount of sexual teasing or denial had convinced him — he, however, had you singing like a canary almost immediately, teasing you in the best way about how easily you opened up for him, telling him all about the music that he had already inspired.

You had been FaceTiming him late one night weeks later, both tired from long days spent in the studio. He had suddenly gotten shy, biting at the skin around his fingernails. 

"Hey, stop that. What's the matter H?"

"Wanna ask you something," he mumbled, but a smile was peeking through where his fingers were still at his lips. "Jus' don't know how to."

"Baby," you sighed, "you can ask me anything. Y'know that." 

"I know, I know." He paused and took a deep breath before a wide smile stretched across his face. "Would you maybe want to come home with me this Christmas? To London? Wouldn't be for long, maybe just a couple nights, I just wanna introduce you to my mum already, she's been pestering me nonstop lately 'bout meetin' you and Gem's joined in on it now too, so it's two against one when they call and I've told them that—"

"Harry," you said chucking, trying to interrupt his nervous rambling.

"—and she actually called me Harold last time she told me to bring you 'round and that got me a bit worried so I—"

"Harry! Of course I'll come with you. I'd absolutely love to."

You met him at the airport weeks later, desperate to pull him close and kiss him silly in the confines of his darkly tinted car, but you refrained, knowing how seriously Harry took the protection of your relationship from the press. You may not have been able to see anyone straining to capture pictures of you two, but you knew there was always the chance. 

It was an entirely different story, however, when he'd finally pulled the car past the mechanical gate and into his private drive. You both reached for each other immediately, arms tangled and shifter knob pressed uncomfortably against your side, but perfectly content so long as his lips were against yours. 

"Fuck— I missed you— so much," he muttered between kisses. He pulled away, forehead resting against yours, sly smirk pulling at his lips. "Mum won't expect us for a few hours at least."

"What is it that you're insinuating, Mr. Styles?"

"That there's plenty of time to give you a tour around the house, that's all," he said innocently. He gave you a sweet smile before hopping out of the car and coming to the passenger side where he helped you out and picked up your bags.

You were eager to be given a house tour, more than keen to learn all of the things you could about his London life. The house was decorated in a way that made you smile - eclectic but with a definitive air of cohesive taste. It suited Harry to an absolute tee. From the artwork that decorated the walls to the mismatched but homey furniture, you could tell immediately that this was Harry's sanctuary - every inch of the home screamed his name. 

"It's incredible," you said as he led you into the largest room, the master. He walked over to the dresser that sat under the window and pulled open the top two drawers. 

"I know we won't be here long, this time around, but I cleaned out a few drawers for you here, if you want to unpack some things. And there's space in the closet for you too," he nodded towards the door on the other side of the room, dragging a hand through his hair as he talked, "I had too much in there anyways and some of it needed to go and I wanted you to be able to leave some things, if you felt comfortable, of if Mum drags us out shopping and you don't want to take it all home now you can leave it here and-"

"You- you cleared out a drawer for me?"

"Well, yeah," he said, resting his hand on the back of his neck. "Made some space for you in the bathroom too, though I doubt it'll be enough, with all that you bring along to fix yourself up." He paused and thought for a moment. "I know how our lives are. I just wanted you to have some of your own space here; want you to feel as comfortable in my home as I do. Is that too much?" 

"H," you said with a sigh, your lips curling into a smile, "it's perfect, and so thoughtful. I'm sorry I haven't done the same for you in Nashville yet."

"'s alright, love. I've already got a toothbrush there at least. I can take some time when we fly back to come and help if you'd like me to. As long as you don't end up wearing all the clothes that I leave there," he chuckled.

"You know me too well," you said, reaching for his hand. He lifted your entwined fingers to his lips to brush a kiss over your knuckles.

"You do look good in my clothes," he confessed, pulling you close to face him. "Look good in my house. But you always look good anyways."

"Said the pot to the kettle," you said with a smile. "I like being here already," you shrug, hands resting on his shoulders. "It feels like you, like home. Thank you for inviting me," you add, as though the measly voicing of your appreciation is enough to convey what you truly feel. 

"You're welcome anytime, if I'm here or not."

"You trust me that much?"

"Yeah, I do. I'll get you a key and everything." He leaned down to kiss you slowly, relearning the map of your lips and mouth, before pulling away. He laughed when you made a noise of protest.

"The bathroom's over here if you'd like to freshen up." He had pulled at your hand, stepping towards the other open door in the room. "Figured a shower might sound nice after a long day in an airplane. Besides, I've gotta clean up before we go to Mum's anyways."

"Gonna join me?" 

"Yeah, thought I might, if that's okay." His smirk had been wicked as he pushed you the rest of the way into the bathroom. He dropped your hand to reach for the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head quickly. As he reached for the buckle of his pants, he had met your staring eyes. "See something you like, love?"

You definitely had, though you didn't think your attraction — physically or emotionally — for Harry had stopped at something that was as weak as "like." Getting to know him over the last six months had made you worry that there wasn't ever going to be anyone else like him, anyone that made you feel like he did. You had fallen for him, desperately hard, and the realization of it as you stood in front of his half-naked self almost embarrassed you. 

"Babe? You alright?" he asked as he stripped down to his boxers. 

"Yeah, you just got me all distracted," you had grinned, pulling your sweatshirt and remaining clothes off quickly before joining Harry under the warm spray of the water.

Meeting Harry's mom that evening went better than you could've ever dreamt it would. The two of you got on like old friends, and Harry had stared, almost in wonder, at how easily you seemed to bond with her. And then he had stared in horror as Anne offered to pull out the photo albums filled with pictures from Harry's childhood, particularly when Anne offered up the album filled with photos from Harry's and Gemma's emo phases. 

As the evening wore on, you caught Harry on more than one occasion glancing your way, cheeks bright from the red wine he was sipping on and eyes warmly reflecting the bright Christmas lights. He always looked like he was a split second away from saying something, only to shake his head and look away with a small smile. 

Later, in bed, Harry pulled you close to him. He was laying on his back, you on your side, and you threw a leg over his waist, soaking in all of the cuddles you could get on this short trip together. The room was only illuminated by the ambient light coming in through the blinds. 

"Mum liked you a lot," he murmured, gently stroking the skin at the base of your spine, "said I should hang onto you". 

You returned the gesture, running your fingertips along the lines of ink that make up his many tattoos. "I liked her too. She's wonderful, I see where you get it from now."

"Hey now, 'm wonderful all on my own!" He tickled your side and you couldn"t help but arch towards him, shrieking and laughing at the touch. 

"Stop that! You are an absolute pest, you know that?" you said, grinning up at him.

"Ah, you love me," he whispered, and his joking tone made you smile but the way he pulled you tighter as he said it made you brave. 

You let the weight what you were about to say wash over you, aware that things were going to change forever with just a few words. "I do love you, Harry," you whispered, moving up his body to press a kiss to his lips.

"Thank God," he had said, wrapping his arms back around you and pulling you on top of him. "Cause I love you too."

Leaving Harry after that had been even more difficult. All you wanted to do was be with him, but you had too much coming up with the future release of your album and Harry was still in the midst of doing his own writing and recording. 

It was your professions, along with the desire to keep your relationship private, that kept you apart. You weren't sure how you did it, but your relationship had withstood the distance and odd-hours. The only step now would be deciding if, when, and how to confirm the suspicions to tabloids and fans alike that you were an item.

The wait was killing you. All you wanted was to show off to the world that Harry was yours.

///

The bridge of the song was followed quickly by the chorus and the heavy guitar and pounding drums had you rocking on your feet, body swaying into the mic stand as you let yourself get lost in the lyrics. "If you go out tonight, I'm going out 'cause I know you're persuasive."

The crowd was even more into the song now, many picking up on the words quickly and screaming them along with your singing. The rock and roll vibe of the song was coursing through you and the crowd, the arena electric with energy already. 

"You got that something, I got me an appetite, now I can taste it."

You remove the mic from the stand and dance towards one end of the stage, singing as you move to the beat. "We're getting dizzy, oh, we're getting dizzy, oh! La da da da da! You get me dizzy, oh, you get me dizzy, oh!"

///

You had been on the phone with Harry one day in July, nearly five months after the release of your album, having him help you decide what the setlist of your tour would be when it began in November. 

"I wish I could cover one of your songs."

He had laughed and slurped his tea, the sounds comforting to you, even over the phone. "That'd be a bit obvious, wouldn't it love?"

"I don't mean cover Golden or Kiwi," you said, tapping your pen against the pad of paper in front of you. "What about one you wrote for 1D? What about Perfect? Or Stockholm Syndrome! That was always one of my favorites."

"Getting permission on those might be a bit more difficult, s'not just me that's gotta sign off on it. Besides, do you really wanna be the artist that covers a One Direction song on her own headlining tour?"

"Guess I'll stick with singing along to them in the shower then."

You were both quiet for a moment, lost in your own thoughts. 

"What if I covered Medicine?" you asked suddenly, realizing it was the perfect compromise, not to mention your favorite song that Harry himself performed oh his own tour. The rock sound wasn't a far cry from the roots that country music had and you knew it would sound great. "Even if it was just for one stop!"

"Hmm," Harry mused. "It would sound great with the band, I'll give you that. But videos will go around, people will know it's my song you're singing and they'll connect the dots about us."

"H, I'm ready for that if you are. I love you, and I'm ready to be able to share that love that I have for you with the world. Sneaking around has been fun but I want people to know how proud of you I am and how much you're loved and appreciated. Half of our fans know already, it's just a matter of us confirming it. I think that we could really-"

Harry was laughing at your rambling on the other end of the line. "Alright, alright, you drive a hard bargain, love. I think you're right, maybe it is time we stopped sneaking around. I'll try, but Jax and everyone else still have to agree to it too. It might be easier to convince everyone if it's just a one time thing. Pick another cover, something you'd normally do, in case it takes some time to work things out."

"I'll ask him right now! Thank you Harry!"

"I just have one condition," he said, and you could hear the grin that was surely pulling at the corners of his lips. 

"What's that?"

"I get to perform it with you," he had said, and the smile already on your face widened exponentially. "If we're finally gonna make "us" public, may as well do it with a bang."

///

In the moment after the chorus, an 8 count beat is carried by the drummer and guitarist. For this performance, and the only performance you'd put on of this song, you had rehearsed the 8 count repeating once between the chorus and the next verse, as you needed a bit of extra time to announce your guest performer. 

"Ladies and gentlemen," you shout into the mic, grin wide and face beaming already at what was about to take place. "To help me finish this performance, please help me welcome my very good friend, Harry Styles!"

Harry emerges from behind the stage holding his own wireless mic as much of the crowd screams - he may not be a country artist, but he was absolutely known worldwide. You step back with a wave of your arm, smiling as he begins the next chorus. His performance is for the crowd but he's singing the words directly to you. 

"Tingle running through my bones, fingers to my toes, tingle running through my bones," he sings, voice smooth like whiskey, and the crowd adores him, eating out of the palm of his hand. "The boys and the girls are in, I mess around with them, and I'm OK with it." 

You can't help but dance as he sings, his voice and the energy of the crowd propelling you to move. He watches you, eyes no longer on the crowd, as he sings the next lines. Immediately, heat pools low in your belly at his glance and the words. 

"I'm coming down, I figured out I kinda like it. And when I sleep I'm gonna dream of how you…"

You gyrate your hips at the unsung line of "ride it", listening with a sly grin as some in the crowd scream the two words that go unsung. 

///

After giving him a key, Harry had moved some of his clothes to your apartment in Nashville some time while you were away on the first leg of your tour. He had found the city to be incredibly welcoming and inspirational for his upcoming album and had decided to stay there for a spell while you continued to tour around the country. 

You had scheduled a short break between your concerts over New Years, wanting to be able to grab at least one or two nights at home with him to celebrate the holiday before you were back on the road again. 

"So fucking glad you're home," Harry panted, pulling your shirt over your head before attaching his lips to yours once again. "Missed you like crazy."

"Missed you too," you moaned as his lips moved downwards, across your neck and over your collarbones, down the valley between your breasts. Before he could reach around to unhook your bra, you reached for his shirt, as desperate as he was to see and touch what you'd been missing. 

As he pulled the half-unbuttoned blouse over his head, you pulled your leggings off and reached for him, pushing him back onto the bed behind him. He unbuttoned his pants as he scooted up towards the middle of the bed, shoving them and his boxers off in one swoop. 

You climbed on top of him, hurriedly reaching to kiss him as you rubbed your clothed center along the length of his hard cock. 

"Fuck," he hissed, throwing his head back to allow you room to kiss his neck. "Desperate aren't you, darling?"

"Want you so bad it hurts," you whispered, sucking a bright hickey right where it would absolutely be seen by anyone.

You moved to continue kissing down his chest but he stopped you with a hand under your arm. "Not gonna last long, love. Wanna be inside you."

His cheeks and chest were flushed bright red, lips puffy and pupils blown wide. This was when you loved him most, being able to have him like no one else did. The same feeling always hit you at certain moments, particularly ones of domesticity, like when you watched him back the car out of the driveway or when he stood in the kitchen in the morning in nothing but socks, boxers, and his ratty old robe, singing along to old big band jazz as he waited for the coffee to brew. There was Harry Styles the musician, Harry Styles the actor, and Harry Styles the performer, but then there was your Harry. 

"Yeah, okay," you sighed, moving off of him quickly to remove your bra and panties. You climbed back onto the bed and threw your leg over his hips, straddling him. He immediately reached for you and pulled you flush against his chest, his lips capturing yours in a bruising kiss. 

You rocked your hips against him as he held you, your slick arousal gliding along his length, drawing a moan from both of you. 

"Baby, please," he panted, and you could only mod in agreement, lost already to the sweeping feeling of your close release. 

His hands rested on your hips as you positioned him at the entrance between your legs. You groaned in harmony as you worked down him slowly, the only sound in the room was your shared heavy breathing and gasps. 

"Fuck me," he sighed as you set a slow pace, rocking on top of him to reach each spot that you know will get you there. 

"Workin' on it," you grin. A quick swivel of your hips hit at just the right angle and you tossed your head back, repeating the movement over and over again until you shuddered with a final snap of tension, your orgasm rolling over you as Harry helped you move, hands tight on your hips, to wring all you could from the release. 

"You look so beautiful right now, like a fuckin' angel," Harry said, voice low and gravely, accent thick with need. 

"How's that line go?" you said as you slowed down, smirking when a harsh rock of your hips caused Harry to moan. "'Turns out she's a devil in between the sheets'?"

"Fuck," he groaned again, eyes closed tightly. "Can't just go reciting my own lyrics to me while I"m buried in ya like this, love."

"And there's nothing you can do about it," you continued, singing the line of his song this time, and his hips buck up into yours harshly.

"You're gonna pay for that," he had said, quoting another of his songs, before he had flipped you over onto your back and set his own brutal pace.

///

Like he can read your thoughts, Harry beams and wags a finger in your direction and the crowd screams at your chemistry together. You grab your mic from its stand and take a step towards Harry to sing the chorus together.

"If you go out tonight, I'm going out 'cause I know you're persuasive." Harry dances off to the side of the stage, performing once again for the crowd. 

You dance at center stage with your wireless mic, too excited about performing with Harry that you can't stand in one spot. The music and Harry's energy make you want to move. "You got that something, I got me an appetite, now I can taste it." 

"We're getting dizzy, oh, we're getting dizzy, oh! La da da da da!" Harry throws his head back, singing along in his own world and you can't look away from him. He really was a rockstar and getting to share the stage with him like this was an experience you'd never forget. 

"You get me dizzy, oh, you get me dizzy, oh!"

There's a great pause in the lyrics where the guitar, keyboard, and drums play together, increasing the tension of the song. You and Harry take off towards opposite ends of the stage, both reveling in the performance for the crowd as you dance and stomp to the beat. Eventually, with a slide down the keys of the keyboard, the instrumental quiets into just the steady beat of the bass line joined by the hi-hats. 

You and Harry urge the crowd to clap along as you both return to the middle of the stage to sing together once again. He always said that this portion of the song was one of his favorites to perform, the repeated line from the bridge ending abruptly with the lights going out before flashing back on, the added theatrics of the performance elevating the climax of the song completely. Having rehearsed that Harry would sing the following chorus alone, you let yourself get lost in his gaze as it settles on you.

You stand facing one another behind the mic stand, once again singing more to one another rather than to the crowd. You step closer towards him as the lyrics progress, nearly chest to chest now with your voices sharing one another's mics. "I had a few, got drunk on you and now I'm—"

Before you can sing the last word of the line and the lights can blink out as rehearsed, Harry leans forwards and captures your mouth in a hungry kiss. The crowd erupts with screams as the lights above the stage go dark.

You can feel rather than hear him say the words "I love you" against your lips and you have just enough time to repeat them back to him before the drums and guitar pick the beat up once again, the lights flashing back on brightly. He moves away and continues to sing the chorus that follows as if nothing had happened. You're a bit stunned, not having prepared for his relationship-revealing public display of affection to happen during your performance of his song but it was perfect and he knows it. Your smile is wide and you can't help but stand rooted where you are and laugh at what has just finally happened.

"If you go out tonight, I'm going out 'cause I know you're persuasive," he sings, smirking at you while you blush across from him. 

You join him in singing the last lines, your right hand joining his left hand where everyone can see your fingers entwine. 

"You got that something, I got me an appetite, now I can taste it. We're getting dizzy, oh, we're getting dizzy, oh!"

You urge the crowd with a waving hand to join in and they do, singing along with you and Harry. "La da da da da! You get me dizzy, oh, you get me dizzy, oh!"

The drums and guitar end the song on five quick beats and the crowd erupts once again in screams. You immediately jump towards Harry, throwing your arms around his neck in a close embrace. His hands wrap around your waist to hold you close, and you can feel him smile where his face is pressed close to your jaw.

"How was that?" he asks, chuckling against you.

"It was perfect, you're perfect. Thank you, H. For everything."

"Can take you on a proper date now, yeah? Wanna show my girl off to the world."

"Yes, please!" You can't wipe the smile from your face as he sets you down and Harry continues to beam at you as the crowd continues screaming, reeling from your shared performance. 

Harry nudges you gently before turning back to them, lifting his and your arms high in the air and leading you in bending for a bow. He steps away from you and turns, opening his arms wide to you for the crowd to praise and you laugh, tearing up at his gesture and the overwhelming emotions of the performance while you take another bow just for yourself. 

He pulls you into another hug and you can't help but angle your face up towards him, wordlessly asking for another very quick, very public kiss.

He glances down at you, smiling. "You're gonna love this now, aren't you?"

"Course I am. love showing them you're mine."

He leans down to peck your forehead, your nose, and finally, your lips, as the crowd goes wild. "Love showing them you're mine. You've got a show to finish, love. Go kill it."

///

Ahh! So much fun! This has been such a joy to write and I appreciate you taking the time to give it a chance! It’s my first (of hopefully many) Harry fics - reading all of the stories here has been immensely inspiring, and I’m so looking forward to writing more!

Tagging my love @morganlatte​ who is a wonderful hype woman and beta reader. Thanks buddy!

Anyways! Thank you for reading! My love language is words of affirmation (aka I have a praise kink) so leave me a comment here if you feel so inclined!

[stephspurs]

A Family Affair | Euro 2020 Football Fanfiction

BESTIES!! PART 10 IS A HOT ONE!! Enjoy reading it as much as I did while writing it (and re-reading it because its probs one of my fav parts of the whole series) Love Always, Steph xx

Part 10 | parte dieci

warnings; heavy-petting, almost-smut, and a hot jack grealish - read at your own risk ;) word count; 2469. writing tools; third person until dashed line, first person thereafter. next update; Monday 16/08 5pm AEST. Updates are three times/week (Monday, Wednesday & Friday)! tags (as requested by users); @footballffbarbiex @obsesseds-world @abysshaven link to fic masterlist here

Longing glances and shy smiles. That  was how Amelia and Ben both spent the next morning at Cobham together, prior to travelling to Stamford Bridge for the fourth match of the season against Aston Villa. The two had spent the rest of the evening relaxing on the couch; no additional kisses were shared between them as they had both agreed to keep things friendly, and no matter how hard Ben tried, Amelia had no intentions of going any further just yet. She had admitted to him something that she had never uttered out loud before: she still needed to work out how to exist without Fede.

While their situationship had been as unconventional as it was, it was still something that Amelia had grown to live with and love. Fede’s personality was unlike no other she had come across, perhaps closest to that of Jack Grealish. Friendly, flirtatious, charming, to the point where she found herself blushing sometimes - not many people had been able to make her shy enough to blush, but Fede had, and now Jack was too.

hot boy grealish

mornin mils, can’t wait to see ya today.

I’ll be the hot one with the good hair and even better ass.

hot gal mils

morning my dear jacky, looking forward to seeing you too.

Is Tyrone not playing?

His bum has always been my fav bum to stare at.

hot boy grealish

cut it out, you.

Banter-filled texts had been a constant stream of entertainment throughout the days leading up to the match. Jack has been preparing Amelia for the possibility of her losing, constantly picking on the girl for being an overachiever and saying that she needs to be brought down a few pegs, having been quite some time since her team had lost a match. Amelia however, with enough self-confidence to rival that of the villa boy, wouldn’t even let him finish his sentences. Far too superstitious for that to happen.

The girl believed in superstitions, and she was not about to tempt her fate. She even went so far as to have her family name and a small Italian flag embroidered onto the inside of her collar of every polo shirt she would wear for match days. She did it at Juventus and organised for it to be done to her new Chelsea uniform. It was a personal choice, something that happened to run in her family also, her father and brother also having the White family name stitched to the inside of their kit. It was a way of keeping them all tied together, no matter what side of the pitch they were on. The Italian flag was there to remind her of all that the country had given her: her grandparents and a chance to be brilliant at what she loves most.

Arriving at Stamford Bridge off of the team bus, Jorgi had insisted she sitwith him and they spoke exclusively in Italian for the 30-odd minute drive from Cobham. Despite Amelia purchasing a new car a few days prior, Jorgi insisted they continue to carpool. It worked out well because now Amelia wouldn’t have to catch the team bus back to the training ground after the match. She had spent the better part of an hour out on the pitch with some of the boys, running through the plays she had in mind before she ushered them back into the changeroom, allowing the Aston Villa men to have their time out on the grass.

______________________________________________________________

“I would know that bum anywhere.”

“Hello Jack, nice to see you too. I’ve been well thanks, so has my bum. I’ll let my face know you said hello, too,” I spoke as I stood up from my crouched position, where I had been tying my laces.

“Just kiddin love, actually no I'm not - I love your bum. But I am happy to see your beautiful face too!” Jack spoke, as he pulled me into a hug - wrapping both of his arms around my head, effectively pushing me further into his chest.

“You saw my face a couple days ago when we were on FaceTime!”

“I saw your bum a few days ago on FaceTimetoo, doesn’t mean I'm not happy to see it!”

“So that's why you like helping me do my laundry, so you can see my backside as I reach into the machine!”

“Now I’m not a religious man, but I have prayed to God a few times that you drop a sock or two riiiiiiight in front of the camera.” He laughed back at my shocked expression.

“Jack! You are ridiculous! Stop being such a perv! No wonder you don’t have a girlfriend” I play-shouted at him as I smacked him with my rolled up matchday program.

“I’m holding out for you, my love.”

“Always the joker, Jack. Get out there and prepare for the worst match of your season.”

“Dream on Mils, we’ve got this in the bag.”

“Sure thing Jacky, sure thing.”

I walked further up the tunnel towards the changeroom, getting ready to deliver my strategy talk to the boys.

“Stop looking at my ass, Grealish!” I shouted without turning around. The boisterous laugh that followed my exclamation was enough to know that I was correct. I didn’t need to turn around to be able to predict what the laddish lad was already doing.

60 minutes of football later.

Amelia was correct in saying that Chelsea were going to win the match, her quiet confidence only getting louder and louder as each premier league match went on. She was apprehensive at first to see if her tactics were going to work in the Prem, or if there was to be some compromise on skill due to the fast-paced nature of the game. So far, however, the Chelsea men were quick learners and even quicker to execute.

One thing she wasn’t prepared for, however, was the absolute worldie that Jack had scored just before half-time at the Bridge. There was an element of familiarity in his goal, recognising the play as one of her own. A small smile crossed  her face after he scored, running to celebrate with the away fans before jogging down past the bench and mouthing a quick “all you baby” at her as he moved back into position. She must have told him about it back when she was in Italy, knowing that there was no chance she would have exchanged her trade secrets to an enemy in the same league. It warmed her to know he paid enough attention to her to be able to practice that on his own with his team and execute it flawlessly in a live game.

What Amelia also wasn’t prepared for was for anyone else to recognise the play. Behind her on the bench sat an oddly-inquisitive Ben. He saw the tactic as it was playing out, recognising the run that Jack had to make to put himself in the box at the exact moment that John McGinn crossed the ball. Better yet, he saw Jack run down the sideline, nowhere near where he should have been, and mouth those words to Amelia. He wanted to know what was going on, was that why she wasn’t ready to commit to him?

Later that same evening.

After a hot shower, Amelia was curled up on the couch, ready to continue the docuseries she was watching the night before when she had an unexpected visitor pop round and confess his feelings to her. Thinking back on the night prior, she was happy that things ended up working out the way they did. Of course she wasn’t exactly thrilled with just how they happened but she could forgive the sweet boy. His intentions were pure and that's not something she was used to. It made her giddy to think about him, and about where things may go in the future.

A ring of her doorbell, almost to the exact hour that it had the night prior, made her get off her couch and walk down the small hall to the front door with a smirk on her face. Expecting to see the same brown-haired, blue-eyed boy that seemed to enjoy ringing her bell after hours. What she saw on the other side, however, was not what she was expecting.

“Jack, what on bloody God’s earth are you doing here?! You should be halfway back to Birmingham by now!”

“Are you gonna let me in love, it’s bloody cold out ‘ere tonight. Come on, shove over,” The slightly-less-than-6-foot-tall footballer commandeered her hallway, shutting the door behind him and locking it. This,  coupled with his overnight duffle bag hanging off his shoulder let Amelia know that he had no other plans but to stay with her.

“Sure, Jack, I suppose you can come in and spend the night crashing in my spare room.”

“Now now, don’t pretend that you’re not happy to see me, love. And a spare room? I believe you promised me a cuddle.”

Rolling her eyes, she couldn’t help but smile at the charming young man. Feeling the blush start to spread from her chest up her neck and across her cheeks, she quickly turned and walked into her kitchen, calling out over her shoulder to ask if he wanted a cup of tea. Feeling a sense of deja vu from the night before, she shook her head and reminded herself that this is nothing like the night before. How could it have been - there was no kissing involved.

“Was that a blush I saw? Do I make you nervous, Amelia?” Somehow, Jack had moved to be right behind the girl at her kitchen counter. Hands on her hips, chest to her back, lips to her ear. Amelia felt herself freeze, and then relax into his hands.

“Jack, please, I don’t think we should do this.”

“Why not, Mils? You can feel it, too. The tension through the screen’s enough to force me into a cold shower most nights.”

And just like the night before, the whistle of the kettle was the only piercing sound resonating around the townhouse. Whilst all she saw was truth behind Ben’s eyes, Jack's eyes were clouded with lust and affection. Just once, she could give in, right?

Leaning her head back to rest on his right shoulder, he attached his lips to the left side of her neck. Hands rolling from the side of her hips, to underneath her shirt, feeling the small navel piercing between his fingers and smirking.

“Didn’t take you for being the kind of girl to have a piercing, Mils,” He spoke into her collarbone, a small nip to the sensitive skin as the girl continued to focus on her breathing.

“Piercings, Jack. I have more than one” She breathlessly spoke, knowing exactly what she was doing now. The admission of having more than one piercing that he could not see was all of the consent Jack needed to continue his exploration of her body.

“Are you going to let me see them, darling?”

“If you’re lucky.”

“I’d say I'm the luckiest guy in the world right now, especially in this position.”

She was unsure how it had happened, but Jack had pressed her further into the countertop. With her back still to his chest, his waist was at the perfect height to press into the small of her back. His leg had settled between both of her own and his hands had found the bottom of her bralette and were gently caressing her rib cage, desperate to get closer to where he presumed her other piercing was.

“We shouldn’t be doing this Jack,” she breathed out into the air, hot air escaping her lungs to resemble what she felt brewing in the pit of her stomach. Desire.

“Why the bloody hell not?” he mumbled into her sweet spot, where her jaw met her neck.

“Because I've been here before. This is bad.” With her eyes shut, he continued his way down her neck. The fabric of her top shifted so he could slide one of her straps down her arm.

“If it's bad, why does it feel so good? '' Whilst his lips got to work on her collarbone, and his hand was busy toying with the elastic line of her bralette, his other hand began to fiddle with her fingers. Entwining them with his own, the kind of strength she needed to feel to make her next decisions.

Pushing back off of the counter, meaning her ass had pushed right into the part of his body where he wanted her most, Amelia turned around and faced Jack. The two stood there, slightly panting, staring at each other. Amelia being the kind of girl that she is, decided that she wanted to have a little slice of the dominance pie. Maintaining eye contact, she lifted the bottom of her t-shirt over her head and dropped in on the floor, that second piercing now very clearly visible through the sheer fabric of her bralette.

“Come on Jack, aren’t you an athlete? What’s got you so out of breath? I thought you’d be able to last a little longer than some heavy petting.” She taunted at the smirking man, wanting nothing more than to mess up his hair as he nestled himself between her thighs. That's exactly the position that they found themselves in not more than 5 minutes later, this time upstairs in her bedroom.

Throughout the multiple rounds of passion that the two so-called friends shared that night, not once had their lips touched. Of course, her lips had touched parts of him and he had definitely been all over a completely different set of lips a few times (and from a few different positions), but face to face, eye to eye, nose to nose - their lips had never met. That told Amelia enough to set her anxiety on fire. Had she just gotten involved with a carbon-copy of the man she left behind in Italy?

The regret seeped through her bones and settled into her heart by the time that the Villa boy had fallen asleep next to her. What had she done? This was not the girl Amelia wanted to be anymore. She was done being the girl that was loved only when the lights went out. She wanted love under the sun, she wanted breakfast by the river, double dates, family parties. She wanted the kind of love that you could never try and hide even if you wanted to. She knew that this wasn’t what Jack was able to offer her. She was grateful for their friendship, she truly was, he made her laugh more than most people but for the first time in a very long time, she was certain that that's all she wanted from him.

Part 11. | parte undicesima

[bottomlouisficfest]

Now that the Bottom Louis Fic Fest 2020 has concluded, we know that a lot of readers will have more time to catch up on some of the amazing fics they may have missed over the past two months. We encourage everyone to check out the full collection and to scroll through this masterpost of the 70 incredible fics that were posted during this year’s fest.

Please be sure to give all of these fics love - offer kudos, leave comments, reblog their fic posts on Tumblr, and retweet the fic posts on Twitter to help spread the word about these fics. The fest ending does not mean that our appreciation and reading of these fics has to end too.

Thank you for following along with this fest! We appreciate every single one of you - and we’ll see you later this year for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest 2021. 😊💜

Rainbow Bloom

A fic by dandelionfairies on AO3 | @dandelionfairies on Tumblr | dandelionfairi1 on Twitter

22k | Mature | Louis/Harry | Tumblr post | Twitter post

Louis is in denial. Louis has been in denial for far too long. Then Harry enters his life and everything changes.

Breakable Heaven

A fic by amomentoflove on AO3 | @daggerandrose on Tumblr | dagger_rosefics on Twitter

44k | Explicit | Louis/Harry | Tumblr post | Twitter post

“What do you think?” Louis gets captured by Harry’s green eyes, unable to look away or even take a breath.

“I think you’re the most magnificent creature I’ve ever met.”

“You must not have met many creatures then.”

Harry’s eyes glance downward to Louis’ lips and his tongue darts out to wet his own. “None like you.”

bang bang (my baby shot me down)

A fic by thepolourryexpress on AO3 | @thepolourryexpress on Tumblr | ZOUlSBUSONE on Twitter

16k | Not Rated | Louis/Harry | Tumblr post | Twitter post

“I walked in on them having sex again,” Niall says after a beat of hesitation.

Liam still looks confused. “Why’s this different from every other time we’ve seen them having sex?” Liam asks, and oh, Harry knows Liam really doesn’t want to know the answer to this one.

Niall’s gone silent then, and Harry almost thinks they’re in the clear. Liam is back to scrolling through his phone, and Zayn is whispering something to Louis that makes the older boy giggle. They’re going to get through this car ride without a murder.

But then Niall’s covering his face with his sweatshirt, taking in a breath and on his exhale, Harry hears him mutter, “Louis was wearing knickers.”

Liam’s phone clatters to the floor of the car.

Don't You Know That I'm a Moon in Daylight?

A fic by wildholly on AO3 | @bottomlwt on Tumblr | bottomloulou on Twitter

58k | Mature | Louis/Harry | Tumblr post | Twitter post

Prompt 79. Louis and Harry fell in love in the 18th century, Louis wanted Harry to convert him into a vampire, but he ended up resenting Harry for it. Fast forward to our modern days, they haven’t seen each other since then, but one day they meet again through a mutual friend. Harry was bitter for a long time, but he accepted that being angry wouldn't erase the fact that Louis was the love of his life. He wanted to court and spoil Louis like in their original time period, but Louis avoided him every time Harry tried to reconnect. Happy ending!

practice in pencil, seal it in pen

A fic by loubellies on AO3 | @loubellies on Tumblr | loubellies on Twitter

16k | Explicit | Louis/Harry | Tumblr post | Twitter post

Prompt 174: AU where drunk Harry lifts Louis up after someone says “bottoms up”. Louis blushes at Harry’s antics, flustered that his best friend knew him more than he thought. Friends to lovers with a happy ending please

or Harry is in love with Louis but he doesn't know.

tastes like summer, smiles like may

A fic by outropeace on AO3 | @outropeace on Tumblr | outropetals on Twitter

47k | Explicit | Louis/Harry | Tumblr post | Twitter post

“Is this true?” Harry grabbed the beta by the shoulders. “Bryce, where did you hear that?”

“There’s rumors going around the castle,” he smirked. “stories about his beauty and his cold attitude. They know he is an omega only because of his scent, but he has never had a heat.”

“Do you know what this means?”

Bryce smirk grew into a big smile. “He can’t give you an heir.”

A cold prince, an alpha with nothing left to lose and a kingdom with a secret.

blinded by the sparks

A fic by wallstracktwo on AO3 | @wallstracktwo on Tumblr

22k | Explicit | Louis/Harry | Tumblr post | Twitter post

"You can’t even keep your lies straight. Mike has the memory of an elephant and can remember every single detail about every single person he’s ever met, so don’t stand there and tell me that he mixed you up with someone else.” He took back Harry’s cigarette. “I saw you exchanging lower chips for higher ones. I saw you counting the cards. There is no fucking way you won seven thousand dollars tonight honestly. And so I will repeat myself — I want in. Fifty-fifty.”

Harry was completely taken aback by the stunningly attractive man standing in front of him. He made several attempts to say something — opening and closing his mouth at least twice before he was finally able to string a few words together. “What? No. No way. No. Sorry, but I work alone.”

That was the truth too — he had never trusted anyone enough to let them get close, especially when it came to his scamming, so having a partner was completely, utterly out of the question.

“Don’t you think you need someone on the…” Louis’ tongue darted out, licking his lips as his eyes flickered to Harry’s mouth, one eyebrow cocking up. “...inside.”

Or - Harry is a scammer who drifts from casino to casino. Louis is the new waiter who wants in on the scam.

somewhere in between

A fic by soldouthaz on AO3 | @soldouthaz on Tumblr | soldouthaz on Twitter

42k | Explicit | Louis/Harry | Tumblr post | Twitter post

Louis wakes up early. He brushes his teeth and can only stomach a piece of toast for breakfast, dressing quickly and heading for the car. He pulls into the parking lot of the Department of Dominance and Submission just as they’re unlocking the doors. It takes him all of an hour in the uncomfortable chairs to fill out the paperwork to the best and most accurate of his ability, handing it over to the receptionist as soon as he’s finished and wiping his sweaty palms on his business trousers.

There’s a high chance that within ten to fifteen business days, Louis will be matched with a dominant.

Shit.

On My Mind All The Time, Say You're Mine

A fic by Safetypinprince on AO3 | @roselouis on Tumblr | femboyIouis on Twitter

9k | Explicit | Louis/Harry | Tumblr post | Twitter post

“Dude, we’re inside, and it’s night time. Those don’t look as cool as you think they do.” Louis could kick himself, he sounded so stupid, but it certainly got the guy’s attention.

It was at that unfortunate moment that he noticed several other things about this hot asshole, that he hadn’t noticed just staring from afar. First, when Louis spoke to him, his gaze was kind of unfocused behind his sunglasses, and secondly, that he had a red and white cane folded up under his arm.

“I’m… Blind,” the man chuckled, awkwardly.  

Louis wanted to melt into a puddle out of pure embarrassment.

“I— am so sorry. I have to go.”

“Hey, wait, wait,” the man soothed, grabbing at Louis’ shoulders before he could get away.

“I’m sorry,” Louis repeated, looking down at his shoes.

“It’s alright,” He cackled. “I get it a lot. More than you know.”

Alternatively titled: and they were roommates.

A Silent Whisper (That's Left Unsaid)

A fic by MyEnglishRose on AO3 | @lwtisloved on Tumblr | darlinlou on Twitter

50k | Explicit | Louis/Harry | Tumblr post | Twitter post

“So… we’re doing this?”

Louis shrugs, suddenly acting disinterested.

“Your call, Curly.”

Instead of a verbal response, Harry suddenly takes Louis’ left hand in his. The black ring seems to nag him as the fire’s light reflects its polished edges. He ignores Louis’ curious gaze as he quickly takes off one of his own rings — the rose one —, sliding it on Louis’ middle finger. It is a little large and when he lets go of his hand, Louis has to curl it into a fist so the ring doesn’t immediately fall off.

“We’ll tell them it’s a promise ring, not an actual engagement,” Harry declares, trying to ignore how warm his cheeks feel. Hopefully, it can’t be seen as he is facing away from the fireplace.

“Right… could have gotten me a fitted ring though, my Harry ten years ago was more thoughtful.”

Louis’ tone is light and teasing again. It creates a small smile on Harry’s lips.

“Someday,” he whispers before he even registers it himself.

They both ignore it.

Or. A Fake Relationship & Exes to Lovers AU ft a failed proposal ten years ago, an oblivious Harry, an overworked Louis, Zayn as the protective best friend, a meddling aunt and a lot of talks about weddings and rings.

sweet like honey

A fic by falsegoodnight on AO3 | @falsegoodnight on Tumblr | falsegoodnight on Twitter

33k | Explicit | Louis/Harry | Tumblr post | Twitter post

Weeks of flat shopping with their limited budget with Louis as a librarian aid and Harry as a barista and arguments about whether a balcony or extended bathroom suite were more important (Harry wanted to be able to feel the crisp night’s air and watch the sun set and Louis just wanted to take long bubble baths) led to them stumbling across the perfect fit. A small flat only ten minutes from campus with a cramped but lovely balcony and an included bath.

It’s affordable too… well, sort of. But they always manage. Louis picks up more shifts as an aid, adapting a habit of bringing his Psych textbooks and homework with him to finish in between duties, and later his script so he can quietly practice lines with little distraction.

Harry also increases his number of shifts at the cafe and valiantly endures the nasty customers who for some reason flock to their establishment like moths to a flame.

For a while, it’s enough.

-

Or, Harry and Louis need money and they find an unconventional solution in the form of PornHub. It’s not supposed to be a big deal.

Spoonful of Sugar

A fic by zanni_scaramouche on AO3 | @zanniscaramouche on Tumblr

42k | Explicit | Louis/Harry | Tumblr post | Twitter post

Harry Styles.  

A name better suited for a myth than a man. Like the name of the devil, people either whisper it in fear or laugh it off as fable. Cut it open and this city’s heart doesn’t bleed red. It’s snowy white, and it pulses in the tight grip of Lucifer himself.

Louis Tomlinson cares for his family above all else, a fact that’s led him on a twisted path peddling drugs to support them. Just as he’s made the decision to jump ship, Louis gets snared between the two largest crime syndicates in the city. To keep his family safe he’s forced to trust the man that failed to keep his promise two years ago, the resident drug lord he’s unknowingly been working for, Harry Styles.

Let's Break the Internet

A fic by louizsv on AO3 | @ashleyjohnsonfanaccount on Tumblr | piccadillyplum on Twitter

9k | Explicit | Louis/OMC | Tumblr post | Twitter post

“I’ll tell you what,” Sam leans forward in his chair and steeples his fingers in front of his face, “If you actually make an account and sell nudie pics and porn for more than three months, I’ll believe you.”

Louis purses his lips, ignoring the returning blush on his cheeks at the thought of having to film himself in compromising positions or taking photos of himself without any clothes on. Raising his chin defiantly, Louis accepts the challenge.

“Fine,” he agrees, “But when I win, you have to make one too.”

Lips quirked, Sam nods and holds out a hand, “Deal.” -- Or, the one where Louis is an Only Fans baby.

in a sea of mist

A fic by tomlinvelvet on AO3 | @tomlinvelvetfics on Tumblr

126k | Explicit | Louis/Harry | Tumblr post | Twitter post

A Greek Mythology/Camp Half-Blood AU where Harry is lost, the road to peace is a wretched one, and somehow, through a mist of confusion and regrets, Louis seems to be the only thing that makes sense and everything Harry needs.

Across the Grey, Salty Sea

A fic by thecheshirepussycat on AO3 | @the-cheshire-pussy-cat on Tumblr | Bee_With_Mee on Twitter

19k | Explicit | Louis/Harry | Tumblr post | Twitter post

Prompt 212: Alex from Dunkirk and French escort/prostitute Louis who ends up in Alex’s quarters more nights than not. Alex gives him his dog tag to wear maybe just a lot of smut and dirty talk with Louis being a pretty princess.

When Our Worlds They Fall Apart

A fic by edensrose on AO3 | @holdingthornsandroses on Tumblr | thetrashpigeon on Twitter

42k | Explicit | Louis/Harry | Tumblr post | Twitter post

Harry put his hand over his heart as if Louis had wounded him. “You’re so harsh, my liege! Perhaps you need to relieve some tension…” He let his voice trail off suggestively.

“The day I ask YOU to relieve tension is the day I lose all my wits and join the Imperials,” Louis said. “It will never happen.”

Written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest 2020- Prompt 325: Star Wars AU with Harry as Han Solo and Louis as Leia.

Thank you, five.

A fic by nouies on AO3 | @nouies on Tumblr | _nouies on Twitter

5k | Explicit | Louis/Harry | Tumblr post | Twitter post

“Harry?” He says as soon as he recognises the other man.

“Louis? Wh-what are you doing here?” Harry asks with a frown.

“Well, I’m here for rehearsal,” Louis announces with a proud smile.

There’s a flash of confusion on Harry’s face. “What do you mean rehearsal? I got the part, you didn’t.”

~

Prompt 195: Hamilton AU

Know I Think You're Awesome, Right?

A fic by princesshalo on AO3 | @princesshalo on Tumblr | tpwkorra on Twitter

60k | Explicit | Louis/Harry | Tumblr post | Twitter post

“Well, that’s not very Treat People With Kindness of you.”

“Neither is approaching someone with the sole intent of criticizing a cause they’re clearly passionate about, given the amount of time they’ve dedicated to advocating for it,” Louis snaps.

“Sure, but I’m not the one with the button,” Harry shrugs.

“So, is there actually something I can help you with, or did you just come to push me into pepper spraying you as well?” Louis is quickly growing impatient. Hell, he was impatient the moment that Harry made his grand entrance on campus yesterday.

“I’m just trying to assess the environment here,” Harry says, “Because if this is all you’ve got to offer trans people who just want to be able to use the bathroom in peace like the rest of us, then I’m not sure I fit in.”

“Allow me to save you the trouble, then: you don’t.”

~

Based on the prompt: a college AU where Louis is a hippie, very good vibes activist and Harry is a punk, anarchist that always gets involved in violent protests.

show you the stars in daylight

A fic by bruisedhoney on AO3 | @yvesaintlourent on Tumblr | bruisedhoney on Twitter

13k | Explicit | Louis/Harry | Tumblr post | Twitter post

Louis laughed, the sound loud and borderline obnoxious. Harry winced. “Are you kidding, Haz? I wouldn’t even look twice at someone that couldn’t pick me up.”

And, well. That was new information to Harry. It’s not like Louis had ever mentioned to him that he was his type in any way, shape, or form.  Harry shifted closer into the space between Louis’s legs, even more intrigued than before. “Why not?” he asked curiously, all pink lips and big curls. Louis smiled.

“Tiny, innocent, little Harold. Need someone that can pick me up, don’t I? I like being tossed around a little. You know, pinned down and made to take it. Lifted up like I’m nothing,” Louis said it all with a confident smile, his sharp little teeth tugging at his bottom lip as he locked eyes with the jock across the kitchen. “Think he might come over here. Move over. I don’t want him to think we’re together.”

Or, the one where Louis has a type and at sixteen and scrawy, it's definitely not his best friend's little brother Harry...ten years later, he changes his mind.

Freeway of Love (In a Pink Cadillac)

A fic by MsHydeStylinson on AO3 | @mizzhydes on Tumblr | MsHydeStylinson on Twitter

33k | Explicit | Louis/Harry | Tumblr post | Twitter post

“Did you like them?” Louis asked in a seductive tone, propping his elbow against the armrest, chin resting against his fingers.

“I’m not going to answer that,” Harry informed, lips pressed in a hard line.

“I don’t think you have to,” Louis smirked nodding slightly towards his telltale bulge and watched as Harry reddened from his neck to his forehead in a flash.

”Please, I beg you to put that phone away,” Harry pleaded with a suffering expression plastered on his face.

“Please…” Harry whined.

Or,

Louis was on his way to Miami to visit an old friend. Harry was going there for a little R&R and take in the sights and sounds.  A sudden upgrade in seating brought these polar opposites together. The universe works in mysterious ways and they are unknowingly about to embark on an adventure they will surely remember for a lifetime.

Prompt 107: Sugar daddy AU inspired by this tweet: “going to sit next to the richest looking middle aged man on my flight and scroll through my nudes for three hours straight” with rich daddy Harry and bratty baby Louis.

Won't Keep You My (Dirty Little) Secret

A fic by lovelykits on AO3 | @lovelykits on Tumblr

16k | Mature | Louis/Harry | Tumblr post | Twitter post

“I got asked out today,” Louis comments.

“Okay,” Harry shifts.

“Did you hear me? I said I got asked out.”

"You always get asked out.”

“Yeah well this time they didn’t believe I had a boyfriend!”

Or Louis and Harry have been together since the end of last year and somehow no one knows about it.

A Place With Skeletons

A fic by whoknows on AO3 | @crazyupsetter on Tumblr

50k | Explicit | Louis/Harry | Tumblr post | Twitter post

“I would choose anyone other than you,” Louis says, picking up his train of thought again. He feels a lot more cornered and defensive when they’re in Harry’s house, for some reason. It doesn’t really make sense, considering that this time, Louis was the one who couldn’t hack it any longer. He broke first. There’s something about being in Harry’s space, though, the green and earthy feeling of it. It should feel like open space with all the plants, but Louis has never felt more claustrophobic than he does when he’s here.

Harry’s chest moves against his back, a sharp intake of air. Before he can open his mouth to defend himself, Louis keeps going, “If I had a choice in any of this, I would have been saved by that elderly security guard over you. I wouldn’t mind having to have the occasional cuddle with her.”

Pretty and Pink

A fic by LarryInPanties on AO3 | @larryinpantiess on Tumblr | babielouu on Twitter

12k | Explicit | Louis/Harry | Tumblr post | Twitter post

Louis points a finger at the man’s pec, “I’ll have you know Harry, anyone would be lucky to have me as a hitchhiker buddy. I’m nice, I don’t take up too much space, and I’m pretty.”

He’s not lying.

“Let me get this straight,” Harry gives Louis a look when he lets out a tiny laugh. “Ya’ want to take a ride with me but you don’t even know where ya’ wanna go yet?”

-

Harry never lets anyone come on the road with him.

Then, a cute hitchhiker, Louis comes around.

Cold As Ice And Everything Nice

A fic by harriblou on AO3 | @harriblou on Tumblr | harriblou on Twitter

40k | Mature | Louis/Harry | Tumblr post | Twitter post

A young boy about Harry’s age was zoomed into the camera, blushing a bright red and breathing heavily and as he bowed. The crowd was cheering for him loudly and every movement he made was bashful and flustered. He had on a very nice skate dress that was purple. His name, hometown, skate scores, and all sorts of information was in a banner on the bottom half of the screen. He was really young, especially compared to all the other competitors, which was the second thing he noticed.

The first was that the boy was easily the prettiest in the entire world, the prettiest boy Harry’s ever seen. He felt his asthma squeeze his throat and his heart beat faster and his hands get a little more clammy.

or in which Louis is a professional ice-skater and he meets Harry, who offers to clean the ice for him.

You'll wait for me only.

A fic by signofthetmies on AO3 | @tired-eyes-lou on Tumblr

9k | Teen & Up | Louis/Harry | Tumblr post | Twitter post

Harry nips at the bondmark on Louis’ neck, Louis’ hands go to his hips, grounding him. He allows himself this, knowing that his Omega needs it too. Harry pulls back, “Go on a date with me.” He rushes out, looking at Louis’ eyes.

Louis laughs and shakes his head. “No, Louis, I’m serious. We’ve bonded for life anyway, might as well try.” Louis looks at him, “You’ve been thinking about this a lot.” Louis points out, Harry nods. “Okay.” Louis says and walks out leaving Harry. “Okay what?!”

_______________________

Prompt 15: Omega Louis is a lawyer that worked on omega rights cases. Alpha Harry is a corporate lawyer. Louis and Harry used to be childhood archenemies, until Louis moved to another school and they never saw each other again. Now, they’re both adults that happen to work in the same place. They behave like children and still share a mutual dislike. Both travel to work together for a case. One night they both bond accidentally. Slowly but surely, they fall in love. Enemies to lovers!

through the wheatfields and the coastlines

A fic by thepolourryexpress on AO3 | @thepolourryexpress on Tumblr | ZOUlSBUSONE on Twitter

53k | Explicit | Louis/Harry | Tumblr post | Twitter post

“You’re not from around here, are ya?” Hot Cowboy asks, tracking his little lamb with his eyes. Louis frowns slightly, having thought he was doing pretty well at not sticking out like a sore thumb. It’s not like he’s not from around here — it’s not his first summer he’s spent at his grandparents'. But he supposes that the Manhattan city lifestyle that he’s used to is always going to shine through.

“I’m visiting family for the summer,” Louis explains, cheeks a little pink. “Trying to get some work done without distractions.”

Or, alternatively, the one where Louis needs inspiration, and a certain cowboy and his lamb are the perfect distraction.

The Boy with the Tin Chest and a Glass Heart

A fic by louloubaby92 on AO3 | @louloubabys1992 on Tumblr

18k | Mature | Louis/Harry | Tumblr post | Twitter post

Alpha Harry Styles, world-renowned author of fairy-tales, is being persuaded by the Beta, Liam Payne to hire a new illustrator. Since Harry’s own illustrations are too graphic for what is supposed to be children’s stories, Liam feels the need is dire. Omega Louis does not agree with Liam since he believes that Harry’s stories are fine just the way they are. Of course this has nothing to do with Louis being totally biased or totally head over heels for Harry. It certainly has nothing to do with being jealous of the mysterious omega illustrator Liam has in mind to team Harry up with.

Seriously, it has nothing to do with that at all. Nothing, absolutely nothing, zilch, nada.

Yeah...

This Glass House

A fic by BabyPowderLou on AO3 | @compactblue on Tumblr | princessbluelou on Twitter

42k | Mature | Louis/Harry | Tumblr post | Twitter post

While deployed, Alpha Harry gets injured by an IED explosion, leaving him to deal with severe injuries in its devastating aftermath. During his road to acceptance and recovery he learns with the help of Louis and their children just how important family can be for the mind, body, and soul.

singing your praises

A fic by loubellies on AO3 | @loubellies on Tumblr | loubellies on Twitter

6k | Explicit | Louis/Harry | Tumblr post | Twitter post

Prompt 86: Louis rides Harry while wearing his packer’s jersey/sweater and gets his ass ate.

made for lovin' you

A fic by cuddlerlouis on AO3 | @cuddlerlouis on Tumblr | burntromances on Twitter

52k | Explicit | Louis/Harry | Tumblr post | Twitter post

“I’m in,” is all Louis receives. He blinks a few times, making sure he’s reading this right.

“For real?” he asks, just to be a hundred percent sure.

“Yes,” pops up. “How do you wanna pursue?” The alpha adds, like he’s on a special mission or something.

“I’m gonna call us a cab to go to mine. Once I know it’s here, I’ll leave and join you there,” Louis explains. “I’ll text you to go around five minutes before it arrives, so it doesn’t look suspicious, and our friends don’t notice us leaving together.”

“Noted.”

So Louis does, and ten minutes later, he’s sat in the backseat of a cab, next to Harry Styles, the person he hates the most but unfortunately still finds attractive. They’re on their way to fuck in Louis’ flat.

Splendid.

-

Or the one where a quick, horny decision ruins Louis’ summer plans, but may also lead to unexpected discoveries. Featuring the road trip of dreams, misunderstandings, and a bit of fate.

Stuck On You

A fic by WritewhatIwant on AO3

34k | Explicit | Louis/Harry | Tumblr post | Twitter post

Louis’ life revolves around his stickers. Harry’s life revolves around his job. The universe has decided their worlds should revolve around each other.

On the Edge

A fic by zanni_scaramouche on AO3 | @zanniscaramouche on Tumblr

47k | Explicit | Louis/Harry | Tumblr post | Twitter post

Figure skating is as vital to Louis’ identity as his DNA, so when his skates go missing right before the last Olympics of his career there may be a meltdown only vanilla bath salts can fix. Well, that and the stupidly charming hockey player he met on the plane.

Harry’s too old to be the wonder kid and too young to be taken seriously in the NHL. As an alternate thrown in at the last second, he fights to prove himself on the national team at the largest sporting event known to man. Or he will, once he gets off this flight and can focus on something other than the fussy figure skater and his stunningly blue eyes.

A baggage mix-up skews both of their perfectly laid plans for gold, forcing the two to work together as the clock clicks towards the minute they’re expected to shine on centre ice.

Be a Good Girl For Me

A fic by wannabebestseller on AO3 | @sincetheywere16and18 on Tumblr

9k | Explicit | Louis/Harry | Tumblr post | Twitter post

Based on this prompt: “AU where Harry is Louis’ older brother’s best friend. He catches Louis dancing around his room in panties and blackmails him, saying that Louis has to do anything he says or else he’ll tell Louis’ family that he wears girly underwear. Secretly soft for him, Harry gives him easy tasks and uses the whole thing to spend more time with Louis. Eventually, the orders begin to escalate and Harry teases Lou about his secret, making Louis shy and embarrassed. Louis loves the attention though, and forms a crush on his brother’s best friend. Lots of feminization, secret relationship, and enemies to lovers. Thank you!”

dripping like spider milk

A fic by raspberryoats on AO3 | @raspberryoatss on Tumblr | raspberryoatss on Twitter

64k | Explicit | Louis/Harry | Tumblr post | Twitter post

When he sees the alpha, his brown hair curling around the top of his neck and his broad back that’s filled out over the past couple of years, Louis freezes for a moment. The alpha turns around, Louis’ surprised expression mirrored on his own for a fraction of a second before he schools it into a big, yet shy grin and a wave of his huge hand. With his nostrils flared, Louis knows that he can smell him, too.

They never hired alphas, except for—

“Harry.”

or prompt 110: Louis is a retired porn star and he gets invited back to test a new line of sex products the company he worked for is releasing (would include photoshoots and videos of Louis sampling certain toys). Harry is there to photograph, film, and intimately help him along the way (preferably in a private setting).

But It's Useless

A fic by thinlines on AO3 | @thinlinez on Tumblr

26k | Explicit | Louis/Harry | Tumblr post | Twitter post

“Hey.”

Louis was even hallucinating now. He closed his eyes.

“Hey, you.”

He chuckled wetly, head still leaning against the door.

“Can you get out of the way? You're blocking the door.”

He exhaled sharply before slowly turning around. His eyes fixed onto muddy Nike trainers before it traveled up to impossibly short jogging shorts. The yellow color was atrocious, simply ghastly.

“What happened to being polite, Harold?”

OR Omega Louis would never guess that he would be trying to hack into Alpha Harry's Wifi. That is until everything changes when he tries to get to know his enemy.

Yours To Lose

A fic by loulicate on AO3 | loulicaterecs on Twitter

26k | Mature | Louis/Harry | Tumblr post | Twitter post

“I think I know the person that matches your descriptions of your dream alpha.”

“Who? And oh not my dream alpha, god you’re making me sound like a teenage school girl. I’m a mum, H.” They laugh as they watch kids gather in front of the verandah, getting ready to go back to the orphanage.

“Well, you’re gonna have to find out.” Harry winks before standing up to start cleaning their spot.

-

Or Louis always gets distracted with his mummy duty and he eventually catches Harry's attention.

Sweet Scary Creatures

A fic by Specklesock on AO3 | @specklelouis on Tumblr | specklelouiie on Twitter

13k | Mature | Louis/Harry | Tumblr post | Twitter post

They stare into each other's eyes for a while until Louis remembers this is too intimate and looks at Harry’s hands on his thigh. It spans a big portion of his thigh and Louis has always been insecure about how thick he is, so he loves that Harry has huge, dustbin hands that hold him and makes him feel smaller, safer.

We Are But Dust and Shadows

A fic by louisbarnes on AO3 | @tomlinsonbarnes on Tumblr | dreamersdiving on Twitter

51k | Explicit | Louis/Harry | Tumblr post | Twitter post

“Um, okay. I’m going to…” Harry gestured over his shoulder and gave the two of them an awkward smile.

“Wait! You got a letter.” Zayn held out the letter and Harry’s face dropped. He took the letter from Zayn, gaze locked on it like it was a bomb ready to explode. “What is it?”

“Probably just from the New York Institute,” Harry muttered. He hurried away, ripping the envelope open as he went.

“Remember when you said you didn’t want to fuck him?” Zayn broke the silence and Louis scoffed.

“Quite clearly, actually.”

Zayn grinned. “Your eye twitches when you lie.”

“Fuck off.”

Or: Louis is part of a well respected Shadowhunter family, and Harry is the Mundane turned Shadowhunter who just can’t seem to get it right.

it's hard to fight naked

A fic by bluestarwitch on AO3 | @loustarlight on Tumblr | IwtstarIight on Twitter

11k | Explicit | Louis/Harry | Tumblr post | Twitter post

Prompt 6: Louis and Harry are roommates, but they cannot stand each other. When Harry heard Louis moan his name while Louis was riding a dildo in Harry’s room (Louis thought he was alone at home), Harry couldn’t stop himself and so he ended up fucking Louis against the mattress. Happy ending!

or where Louis leaves dirty socks on the couch, Zayn does assignments while he's high, and Harry is hopelessly crushing on his roommate.

social cues

A fic by outropeace on AO3 | @outropeace on Tumblr | outropetals on Twitter

56k | Explicit | Louis/Harry | Tumblr post | Twitter post

To Harry, Louis was becoming as tangible and essential as music in his life. He still was a mystery but at the same time, he was one of the most real things Harry had. He just hoped he could live up to the image Louis probably had in his mind of him.

He could play the part, after all, what was published of him wasn’t as detached from reality. He didn’t think of himself as a rockstar cliche, although he couldn't deny he did sleep around, partied a lot, and did some drugs. But then again, wasn’t that what the majority of his friends back in his hometown were doing at college?

Harry wanted to impress Louis, he didn’t want to disappoint or leave his expectations unfulfilled, so he’d give him the full rockstar experience.

It was a very simple plan, what could possibly go wrong?

hereafter

A fic by larryent on AO3 | @larryent on Tumblr | oflarryent on Twitter

13k | Mature | Louis/Harry | Tumblr post | Twitter post

"A legacy is every life you’ve touched. And you’ve touched mine twice."

On the coast of San Franciso in 2024 is when Harry falls in love all over again.

OR

“This thing upon me is not death but it’s as real, .... this thing upon me like a flower a feast, believe me is not death and is not glory.” — Charles Bukowski, old man, dead in a room

smoke between your teeth

A fic by soldouthaz on AO3 | @soldouthaz on Tumblr | soldouthaz on Twitter

37k | Explicit | Louis/Harry | Tumblr post | Twitter post

“Alright, fine. What is it, then?" Louis asks. "Give me the best you’ve got. What’s this big reason why I smoke?"

Harry’s head lolls backward on the back of the sofa, a dopey grin on his face even though his eyes are already halfway closed - that look he gives Louis when he’s about to spout some incoherent bout of psychological bullshit.

“Oral fixation,” Harry mutters as delightfully as he can muster, his tone suggesting that it should be obvious.

--

Louis tries to stop his addiction to cigarettes and discovers he's been addicted to Harry for much, much longer.

calm me down (before i sleep)

A fic by leeanndarling on AO3 | @erodiansunflower on Tumblr | leeann_darling on Twitter

6k | Explicit | Louis/Harry | Tumblr post | Twitter post

Prompt 24: Harry is a sex shop owner that has a crush on Louis, the shy customer who flirts with him while buying cute buttplugs, lace panties, and collars. One day, Louis asked Harry to help him put on a corset (they end up fucking in the dressing room). Things escalate quickly from there, so they start seeing each other seriously while trying other sex stuff.

This World’s Ashes

A fic by sunshineandthemoonlight on AO3 | @sunshineandthemoonlight on Tumblr

34k | Explicit | Louis/Harry | Tumblr post | Twitter post

The man stares at him, and all Harry can hear is his own heartbeat, racing.

Then the stranger turns away. He walks a few paces and bends down, picking up a large knife from the ground and shoving it into a pouch attached to his belt.

“I won’t hurt you, you know.”

Harry’s eyes snap up to the man’s face. He’s looking at Harry sincerely, palms held up as though in surrender. There’s still a knife in his right hand, though, so Harry is only slightly reassured.

Harry swallows to combat the dryness of his throat, and then says, “I won’t hurt you either.”

A post-apocalypse AU where Harry, battling his past as he survives in the woods, has learnt not to trust anyone except his dog. Then Louis crashes into his life, with his bright spirit and soft lips, pulling Harry from the depths of a loneliness he hadn’t realised he was drowning in. But there is danger lurking, and Harry’s not the only one wrestling with his past.

A Springtime's Wilt, an Autumn's Bloom

A fic by snowcaplou on AO3 | snowcaplou on Twitter

20k | Explicit | Louis/Harry | Tumblr post | Twitter post

“What about you Harry? Maybe you should apply for the position,” she teases.

“Oi! You better not be trying to get rid of my best driver-- I can’t go looking for a replacement, I’m too busy!” Louis says with a playful slap to Savannah’s shoulder. It's jestful, like the rest of their conversation, but there is a possessive bite to his words-- my best driver-- the words bounce through Harry’s ears until he can just hear the words my and mine. It falls deaf on Savannah’s beta senses, but for a minute Harry thinks he can sense the same words zooming through Louis’ thoughts.

My, mine.

My alpha.

And woah, Harry’s taking it too far. At least, he thinks he’s taking it too far, but when he looks back up from his plate, Louis’ eyes are heavy on his, and for a fleeting second, Harry can pretend he heard Louis say it.

OR

Harry is Louis' personal chauffeur, and although he hides his feelings for his boss behind a wall of rigid professionalism, Louis still manages to squeeze through the cracks.

Starlight’s Crossing

A fic by smittenwithlouis on AO3 | @smittenwithlouis on Tumblr | smittenwlouis on Twitter

30k | Explicit | Louis/Harry | Tumblr post | Twitter post

He can picture it so clearly, as he holds onto Louis’ sleeping body. How they’d go exploring every inch of the galaxy without a care in the world. He builds a fairytale future in his mind, one that includes marriage, kids, and growing old together. Even after such a short time together, Harry knows that he’d say yes to anything and everything this man ever asked for. He’d follow him to the ends of the galaxy if that’s what Louis wanted.

And that thought terrifies Harry.

Or: All it takes is one night for Harry and Louis' life to change forever. Fast-forward four years, and they embark on an adventure of a lifetime across the universe.

Floating

A fic by littleLouve on AO3 | @larents on Tumblr | louvees on Twitter

10k | Explicit | Louis/Harry | Tumblr post | Twitter post

The one where Louis has control over water in every form but he doesn't know what to do with it. Harry is here to guide him.

don't want no other shade of blue

A fic by padfootyoudog on AO3 | @louisisworthit on Tumblr

43k | Explicit | Louis/Harry | Tumblr post | Twitter post

“I know you’re putting on an act,” says Harry after a moment, and Louis scowls when he realises the prince is actually amused.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” says Louis.

“All I’ve heard over the past couple of years are rumours of Prince Louis’ kindness, and generosity, and oh, he’s so handsome I can barely pour his tea without shaking!” says Harry, putting on a silly, high-pitched voice for the last bit. Louis’ scowl deepens. “I would already know if you were just another selfish, bratty omega prince. You can’t fool me, darling, but I admire your efforts.”

“As you said,” Louis grits out, “those are only rumours. I assure you, I’m a terrible person.”

—

prompt 339: it was foretold that Alpha Prince Harry would be mated to a beautiful male omega with eyes that could rival the stone amethyst, but Omega Prince Louis refuses to believe it.

Loving You's the Antidote

A fic by neverheartbroken on AO3 | @neverheartbroken on Tumblr

5k | Explicit | Louis/Harry | Tumblr post | Twitter post

Prompt 302: Alpha Harry & Omega Louis are divorced but still spend each other’s heat/rut together because they only really trust each other but things get complicated when Louis (or Harry, author’s choice) spend it with someone else. Cue angst with a happy ending. (Prompt Inspiration: Prompt 98 from the 2019 BLFF)

dirty laundry looks good on you

A fic by tomlinvelvet on AO3 | @tomlinvelvetfics on Tumblr

50k | Explicit | Louis/Harry | Tumblr post | Twitter post

When Louis Tomlinson finds his clothes lying in a sad soapy mess on top of the washing machine in which they are supposed to be, he acts upon his anger and retaliates. What he doesn’t expect is having to deal with a six-feet tall, curly-haired and dimpled man in return, who seems to arouse confusing feelings within him and to make his life take an unexpected turn for the better (or worse?).

OR; the utility room is a great place to fall in love.

no good unless it's real

A fic by fackinglouis on AO3 | @fackinglouis on Tumblr

17k | Explicit | Louis/Harry | Tumblr post | Twitter post

“Here,” Harry says, pulling a strap off his shoulder so he can dig his phone out of his bag. “We can get each other’s numbers.”

 Louis shakes his head. “I have the practice’s number already,” he tells him. “And my number is definitely on file somewhere.”

Harry pauses, smile quirking a bit as he stares at Louis. The sun is still in his eyes, though, with his sunglasses pushed up onto his head still, so Louis credits his funny face to that.

“I’m trying to give you my number, Louis,” Harry explains around a breathy laugh.

“Oh,” Louis blinks, processing that. He scratches his temple, moves a piece of longer fringe back behind his ear, and then nods. “Okay.”

Or: Louis is a very busy farmer who’s just trying to make it to his next nap and Harry’s the new hot vet that’s determined to infiltrate every area of his life.

Since the Future

A fic by bluestarwitch on AO3 | @loustarlight on Tumblr | IwtstarIight on Twitter

49k | Explicit | Louis/Harry | Tumblr post | Twitter post

"It's done."

The words were barely above a whisper when they left Harry's mouth, but they hit Louis with the force of a freight train. It was done. Holy fuck. They had created a time machine. And tomorrow, they were travelling to the future.

To Love without Reason

A fic by MuggleMirror on AO3 | @mugglemirror on Tumblr | mugglemirror on Twitter

8k | Not Rated | Louis/Harry | Tumblr post | Twitter post

“Come on in, soldier,” Louis pats Harry’s chest and walks away, leaving Harry to follow behind.

Harry stands in the living room, looking around at Louis’ dwelling. Family pictures placed high on a shelf, certificates of Louis’ practice, and other trinkets that make Harry entirely too nostalgic.

“I have to warn you,” Louis says as he puts the kettle on, the water droplets from his hair trickling down the golden skin of his back. “The door jams if you lock it so you'll have to leave it ajar.”

Harry acknowledges with a soft hum, too entranced by Louis’ glistening skin to form a coherent reply.

Sedative Duty.

A fic by daddyharrie on AO3 | @daddyharrie on Tumblr | daddyharrie on Twitter

46k | Explicit | Louis/Harry | Tumblr post | Twitter post

Pop-star of the moment Louis Tomlinson is on his third-world tour. He decides to hire renowned professional dominant Harry Styles to unwind while on the road. In an effort not to raise suspicion by the crew, fans, and press,  Harry pretends to be his bodyguard. He ends up being far more than that.

You and I 'till the day we die

A fic by Allmylovelarrie on AO3 | flightlesslarri on Twitter

10k | Explicit | Louis/Harry | Tumblr post | Twitter post

Prompt 124: A fic inspired by Groupie Love by Lana Del  Rey, where Harry is a Rockstar and Louis is his cute little boyfriend  who tries to hide himself in the middle of the crowd. (Preferably set in  the 80s)

Give So Much (Not Enough)

A fic by skinsuk on AO3 | @wifeylouis on Tumblr

24k | Mature | Louis/Harry, Louis/Alex, Harry/Tess | Tumblr post | Twitter post

“For my little lion,” Louis slid the smoothie bowl in front of  Oscar, letting him dig in with his little hands. “And for daddy.”  

He didn’t process the bowl in front of him, the  push across the table causing a raspberry to roll off and fall on his  lap, because Louis calling himself mummy may make him feel all sorts of  mushy emotions, but Louis addressing Harry as daddy was suddenly having a  very different effect on him. Since when did Louis saying daddy out  loud render him speechless?

“Daddy’s still  sleepy, but we’re up bright and early right Ossie?” Louis’ cooing shook  him out of his daze. The man coughed, picking the raspberry off his lap  and swallowing it with unintentional, and very unnecessary, eye contact  with Louis. “Well, is it better than your protein smoothies and why?”

Harry chuckled, spooning another heap of the strawberry banana goodness into his mouth, “Way better sweetheart.”

A friends to lovers au with tons of mama Louis and domesticity.

New York's Beauty

A fic by nocontrol_lou on AO3 | @saxophone17 on Tumblr | nocontrol_louis on Twitter

5k | Mature | Louis/Harry | Tumblr post | Twitter post

Prompt 104: AU where Harry is an alpha wolf and  Louis is a hybrid kitten. They were roommates. While they were arguing  about something stupid, Harry wanted to bend Louis over the kitchen  table and knot him right there. He slowly accepted his feelings and  extreme desire for Louis, so he started to tease the hybrid until he  would beg Harry to fuck him. They fall in love. Louis needs to feel comfortable with the camera so Harry fucks him until he is blushing and calm and gentle.

feeling borrowed, always blue

A fic by falsegoodnight on AO3 | @falsegoodnight on Tumblr | falsegoodnight on Twitter

67k | Explicit | Louis/Harry | Tumblr post | Twitter post

Louis’ own heartbeat picks up, eyes widening right as  Dr. Zoyansky hits a button and the unsteady pattern of thumps echoes  into the room. His breathing hitches, eyes watering as the rhythm seeps  into his insides and reverberates in his mind. A heartbeat.

He doesn’t register the tears at first, eyes fixed to the screen and vision blurring.

The  situation seems insane. Here he is, twenty-four years old, sitting in  the examination chair and listening to the heartbeat of his future  child, clutching the worn material of his changing gown with pale  fingers, one of which is weighed down by a gaudy engagement ring.

And  most noticeably - he’s entirely alone. It’s just him in the room with  his doctor, experiencing one of the most groundbreaking, life-changing moments of his entire life and he’s all alone.

-

Or, Louis has been dreaming of his wedding since he was young - he just never expected that it was going to happen like this.

Hamartia

A fic by tomlinvelvet on AO3 | @tomlinvelvetfics on Tumblr

66k | Explicit | Louis/Harry | Tumblr post | Twitter post

Eight years is a long time for Louis to mend his heart  back and erase every lingering, stubborn memory of his ex-lover, Harry  Styles. But when news of the war being over spreads across the world  like wildfire, and he stumbles upon the alpha he vowed himself to never  see ever again, he realises that not even a lifetime will be enough for  him to pick up the scattered, broken parts of his soul. He's far from expecting the alpha he loved to struggle the same way.

All the ointments in the world might never soothe the pain out, but it doesn't  take long for both of them to come to the conclusion that, maybe, the  only medicine to their heartbreaks are what caused them in the first  place.

moonlit sky over gentle waters

A fic by stardustx on AO3 | stardxstlwt on Twitter

11k | Explicit | Louis/Harry | Tumblr post | Twitter post

"The King of the Pirates! Captain Harry Styles! The one  who conquered the seven seas!" Louis boasts, sarcasm drips from his  tone, mocking him.

The bar is clean, but he still scrubs just as  fervently, his brows furrows and a small pout forms on those pink lips  Harry desperately wants to kiss. He looks down, dubiously, at the  address in his hand.

“Every lass and lad dreams of bedding a  pirate like you.” Louis huffs, gazes up at him with a despondant look  that reminds him of a grumpy kitten.

Silence fills the space as Harry mulls over his words. He finally looks up at Louis, blinking slowly. “Do they really?”

"You're an idiot."

-

OR Harry left his hometown to sail the seven seas and returns seven years later, yearning for something — or rather, someone  — that he isn't sure he can have.

Short and Sweet

A fic by 5ft9 on AO3 | cinnamouroll on Twitter

29k | Explicit | Louis/Harry | Tumblr post | Twitter post

Louis is a shy university student in a world scarce of  male omegas.  He's always dreamt of having an alpha despite his sheltered  upbringing,  fantasizing about being loved and cared for. He's  immediately smitten  by the mysterious alpha with curly hair, broad  shoulders, and the  addictive coffee scent.

under thorn and bramble

A fic by thedeathchamber on AO3 | @louehvolution on Tumblr

32k | Explicit | Louis/OMC | Tumblr post | Twitter post

Prompt 445: A historical AU where Louis is working as a  servant on a farm. The family that owns the farm is exceedingly cruel  to him and he is often exhausted and in pain from his work. A mysterious  stranger boards at the farm and is very intrigued by Louis, but Louis  doubts his interest in genuine. Any pairing fine.

Late night devil put your hands on me (and never, never, never ever let go)

A fic by summerandsunshine on AO3 | sunshine_Iou on Twitter

12k | Explicit | Louis/Harry | Tumblr post | Twitter post

Harry is a demon that feeds off of people’s nightmares. He finds his next meal in Louis’ dreams where he changes and molds them to become scary nightmares. Soon harry learns Louis is a lucid dreamer- he can act on his own in his dreams. They interact in the real world and have sex in the dream world. when Louis catches feelings the devil, Harry promises to come back to earth once and for all.

No Easy Choice, But You’re Mine

A fic by alltheselights on AO3 | @alltheselights on Tumblr | alltheselightts on Twitter

45k | Explicit | Louis/Harry | Tumblr post | Twitter post

Louis’ feet pound on the pavement as he runs, and the echo reverberates through the alley behind him. He drops the gun near a trash bin as he passes, his gloved fingers ensuring that it will never be traced back to him.

He’s panting, his thighs ache, and there’s a cramp forming beneath his ribs on the right side, but all of that is nothing compared to the exhaustion clouding his brain.  

I can’t do this anymore, Louis thinks.

Or: Louis is an omega hitman with one last job that goes a little sideways. Harry is the alpha bartender that looks a little too closely and cares a little too much.

Joker Is Wild

A fic by Typosmyown on AO3 | @palosquared on Tumblr

19k | Explicit | Louis/Harry, Louis/Various | Tumblr post | Twitter post

Prompt 390: A reality show AU where Louis, Harry, Liam, Zayn and Niall are selected to stay at confined in a luxury mansion for 1 month, where they are required to have explicit, graphic sex at all times, like a porn Big Brother kind of show. Every week there are several different sexual tasks and trials that they must overcome together, which all ends in orgasms for all of them. When the boys all discover Louis is strictly a bottom, and a slutty one at that, they all can’t wait to get their hands on him. Bonus if other hot celebs are there too, like Shawn Mendes, for example. Includes lots of hard gay sex, rimming, blowjobs, gang bangs, ass worshipping (Louis ass, of course) and double penetration.

The Pirate and The Piper

A fic by jacaranda_bloom on AO3 | @jacaranda-bloom on Tumblr | jacaranda_bloom on Twitter

38k | Explicit | Louis/Harry | Tumblr post | Twitter post

Banished from Neverland by Captain Hook and the evil Siren Minerva, Louis is forced to live in the Other World. He makes a life for himself, resigned to the fact he’s never going to see his beloved home and Lost Boys again. Five years later he’s kidnapped and returned to Neverland, only to discover a far worse fate awaits him. But with an unlikely ally by his side, can he overcome those who seek his demise and restore freedom to his homeland?

Or the one where Harry is Hook, Louis is Pan, and nothing is what it seems.

Coeur de Pirate

A fic by louizsv on AO3 | @ashleyjohnsonfanaccount on Tumblr | piccadillyplum on Twitter

34k | Explicit | Louis/Harry, Louis/OMC, Louis/Harry/OMC | Tumblr post | Twitter post

He tilts his chin up as the Captain strides across the deck, his footfalls falling loudly against the planks. The crew watches them from afar.

Stepping into his space, the Captain wraps an arm around Louis’ waist and pulls him in. He lowers his head to breathe his words against Louis’ cheeks. “I won,” he whispers, “I’ve come to claim my prize.”

if you're feeling lonely

A fic by ifthat on AO3 | @lovehl on Tumblr | omegalouis on Twitter

12k | Explicit | Louis/Harry | Tumblr post | Twitter post

The guest list is on the desk. Louis runs through it and stops a third of the way down when a familiar name catches his breath.

Harry Styles.

All he has to do is verify whether Harry Styles is the same Alpha whose scent beckoned him closer.

it's a game we play in the sheets

A fic by loubabyworship on AO3 | @strawbabyloucake on Tumblr | pillouprincess on Twitter

9k | Explicit | Louis/Harry | Tumblr post | Twitter post

“Louis is… He’s a boy I’ve been talking to.” He bit his lip, grin evident. “After I watched one of his videos during a Harry Reacts a few weeks ago I messaged him and…”

His sentence was cut short by the sound of a timid little “Hi” being whispered into his ears.

Harry closed his eyes for a second, pausing to take in the online presence of the real-life fairy, before he opened them and smiled. “Hey Lou. Ready to play with me?”

Mind Over Matter (You Under Me)

A fic by youreyesonlarry on AO3 | @youreyesonlarry on Tumblr | youreyesonlarry on Twitter

73k | Explicit | Louis/Harry | Tumblr post | Twitter post

It’s dark outside when Harry finishes practice for the day.

--------

Prompt 21: Harry stopped playing hockey (after 10 years of a professional career) because of a severe injury. The dream he worked so hard for vanished in the blink of an eye. His family insisted that he had to go to physical therapy, even if it only helped his health. Cue to personal assistant Louis, the most efficient and kind PA one could hire.

--

View the 2020 BLFF collection here.

View the 2019 BLFF collection here.

[tetsurouskuro]

Lose Somebody

pairing: bokuto koutarou x fem!reader

warnings: angst, swearing, fluff, smut, 

word count: 3,385

a/n: i get most of my ideas while listening to music, so listening to onerepublic - lose somebody got me this idea, it’ll be super fluffy so i hope you’ll enjoy it! <3

Synopsis: You’re friends with benefits with Bokuto and you fall in love him. Confessing your feelings for him, expecting him to feel the same only to be rejected and end your friendship with him. Will the two of you find your way back to each other?

≫ ----- ≪·•♕•·≫ ----- ≪ 

The sound of the second set being finished could be heard in the gymnasium. Loud cheering from the stands of people who were watching and clapping. Another win for Fukurodani, another win for Bokuto. He looked happy, cheering with his teammates. His loud “hey, hey hey” echoed through the big room. He had a talent for volleyball. He was one of the best spikers in all of Japan for his age and that was something. He was sure to be scouted when he went on to start college.

College. Those words echoed through your head. You didn't want to think about college, because college meant being seperated from Bokuto and that's something you didn't want to think about now. Now you needed to celebrate with him.

You'd known Bokuto since first year of high school. He was that goofy but very attractive guy that most girls wanted. You had accidentally bumped into him and that made you drop all of your textbooks, all of them ending up in a pile of paper on the floor and he had (to your surprise) bent down to help you and apologized over and over, even though it wasn't his fault. Ever since then you'd become friends and put up with all of his different mood swings and what nots, well you and Akaashi.

In these 3 years, the two of you had somehow ended up in bed together. The both of you had an attraction for each other, that you couldn't deny, but when he had said “let's not do that again” it had happened again anyway. So, Bokuto had then come up with a better solution after it had repeated yet another time.

“Let's just be friends with benefits.” He had blurted out late one night while the two of you were watching a movie on his bed.

“Huh? What?”

“You know. Fuck buddies, bed buddies. Whatever you call it.” Looking at him like a deer caught in the headlights, you didn't move a muscle.

“I know what friends with benefits mean, I am not stupid... I'm just surprised. That's all.”

“Well we've tried to not have sex but that didn't work out so why not just embrace it?” Pausing the movie he looked at you with anticipation, waiting for your answer.

“Sure, but don't go and fall in love with me, Bokuto Koutarou.”

“Pfft, like I have any time for that. I don't want a relationship anyway. All my focus is on volleyball and finishing school.” With that being said, he climed on top of you, his palms flat on the bed between your shoulders. Leaning down to seal the deal with a kiss, his lips trailed down, making you hot and bothered.

≫ ----- ≪·•♕•·≫ ----- ≪ 

You'd said for him not to fall in love with you, yet here you were, third year in high school and head over heels in love with Bokuto.

Sighing you removed yourself from the railing and started to move so you could greet him when he and the rest of the team exited the gymnasium. Reaching the big doors where the team exited you could see the back of Bokuto's head. His black and grey spikes being damp from sweat. His back muscles clinging to his sweaty back, making your knees go weak. Yesterday he had fucked you so hard on his bed that your nails had left marks on his back, but he didn't mind. He loved it, and you loved when the two of you were intimate. Just thinking about it made you horny.

“Oi! Airhead,” you yelled at the goofy boy who turned around and smiled when he saw you. Walking towards you he embraced you in his arms, your head hard against his chest.

“Did you see that last spike I did? It was awesome. I'm awesome.”

“Ew, you're sweaty and yes I did. I watched the whole game. You're lucky you got Akaashi to save your ass.”

“W-What? I... (y/n), so rude.” The big muscular man infront of you pouted and you could only giggle. It was fun to trigger him.

“Kidding. Or am I? Haha, anyway... Congrats on the big win Bokuto. How are you gonna celebrate?”

“Meanie, that's what you are and I was thinking of celebrating by having you naked in my bed,” smirking at you as he said it made you bite your lip, giving him the respons that he wanted.

“Okay. Fine by me.”

“Excellent. I'll text you when you can come over,” he said while slowly taking small steps backwards, his eyes never leaving you.

“Sure. Have fun,” waving goodbye at him you watched as he turned around and sprinted to where his teammates were. Once he was out of sight, your smile dropped and your left hand grabbed a hold of your shirt and sqeezed tightly. 'Tonight', you thought. 'Tonight, I'll confess.'

It was Akaashi who had asked you why you didn't confess to Bokuto one night. You'd been surprised that he'd figured out your feelings for him, but only because the two of you acted like a couple already. Everytime you were around Bokuto and his teammates the two of you would always be together; sitting next to each other, your head in his lap while he massaged your scalp or his fingers tracing patterns on your back as you hummed a tune that was stuck in your head.

The way you two would fight over what food to order or which movie to watch. Konoha had one time called you a couple and the both of you had denied it and soon it became an inside joke where the team teased both of you and after a while the both of you stopped arguing back.

You had noticed how Bokuto sometimes would watch you when you studied, or when you furrowed your eyebrows when you thought hard of something. He'd sometimes throw out compliments at you like cute, adorable and pretty. Those compliments would make you blush and it was then you'd noticed yourself that shit, you were in love with that airhead.

Walking towards your home, earphones in each ear and listening to some music you got home quicker than you'd anticipated. Both of your parents were away for buisness and being an only child sure has its perks.

Walking into your bathroom, you started the shower and began to undress and get ready for your night with Bokuto and hope that it won't be your last one.

≫ ----- ≪·•♕•·≫ ----- ≪ 

Bokuto has your back pressed against his bedroom door, his tongue invading yours, slowly stroking his own with yours. His hands finds the hem of your shirt, his lips parting from yours so he can pull it over your head and the throw it on the floor. It lands on a pile beside his own shirt that was discarded just minutes ago. His lips is quickly back on yours as his hips start to grind against your lower belly, a moan erupting from your mouth.

“No foreplay. I just wanna fuck, 'kay?” he speaks against your lips, working on getting your pants and thongs off of you, sliding them both down your legs, his lips leaving a trail of kisses from your neck and downwards.

“Mhm... oh-kay Kou,” you moan out his nickname and feel him leave a wet and sloppy kiss on your clit, making you jump at the sensation of his lips there.

Once he has you completely naked, he picks you up like you weight nothing and walks you towards his bed, placing you on the center of it. He's fast with taking off his own pants and briefs and basically throws himself at you. Him hovering over you as he thrusts inside you, without any warning, making you let out a loud moan. Your hands grab his shoulders, your nails digging deep into his skin. Marking him.

“Fuck yes, (y/n). You always feel so good around me.” Your walls tighten around him as you sigh in complete satisfaction.

“You feel good inside of me,” you answer him back. Both of your eyes looking into each other as he starts to move in and out of you, his eyes never leaving yours. If he doesn't see that you're utterly head over heels in love with him then he's just as stupid as he looks. Even though he looks like a sex god.

Bokuto places his forearms beside your head and leans down, his lips meeting yours. Closing your eyes you let him take the lead, chose which tempo he wants to take you in. His thrusts are slow and gentle, like he's making love to you and that makes your heart pound harder against your chest.

His lips pulls away from yours as his thrusts starts to quicken, your own hips start to meet his. He's looking at you, never leaving your gaze as you gaze up at him. Moans erupting from your mouth. His own moans and grunts are coming out every now and then. Sweat forming on his forehead as his hips starts to pound even harder against yours.

“Fuck this,” he speaks as he changes position so he's on his knees. His hands grabs your legs and pulls them together and hugs them against his chest, pulling your ass up so the head of his cock is hitting your g spot.

“Fuuuck, Bokuto. Oh my... god,” you moan out. 'I love you' you think as his hips slaps roughly against your ass. His hips keep getting rougher.

“Fuuuuuck. Cum (y/n). I'm close, so close.” The building sensation in your lower belly erupts and you cum without any warning, milking his cock with your juices.

“Fuck, Bokuto!” I love you. I love you. I love you. You chant in your head as you try to calm down your breathing.

“Shiiiit,” Bokuto swears as he reaches his own climax, his hot seed filling you up to the brim. His own breathing being heavy as he tries to calm down. He places your legs on each side of him and pulls out of you, and starts pacing in his bedroom.

“Kou?” you sit up on his bed and watch him.

“Why did you say it? Was it because of the sex or was it something else?” Oh no.

“W-What are you talking about, Kou?”

“The 'I love you' part, (y/n). Is there something you wanna tell me?” He stops pacing and looks at your horrified expression.

“I-” you try to form your words but, by the way he's reacting you already know how he feels, and it's slowly breaking your heart. “I-I'm in love with you Bokuto.”

“No, (y/n). You know I don't want a relationship. I need to focus on volleyball.”

“Why can't you do that and love me at the same time? Nothing will change, only that we're a couple. You feel the same, right? I mean the way that you're with me.”

Letting out a big sigh, Bokuto gazes at you. His eyes stern. “I don't feel the same (y/n). I'm sorry. We should stop this-” you don't let him finish his sentence. Your eyes already watering and you can slowly hear how your heart is breaking, piece by piece it's falling apart.

“Yes,” you answer him, almost whispering. You climb off the bed and start to dress yourself, quickly.

“Wait, stay. I don't want you to go home this late. It's already 10PM and-”

“You can't be serious. I just confessed that I am in love with you, you moron and you expect me to stay? I can't stay.” Pulling on the sweater over your head, you brush away the tears that had just fallen. “We can't be friends. I can't see you. Just looking at you now is breaking me. I need time. Space. Don't call, don't text, don't try to speak to me. Just... leave me alone,” your last words come out as a sob as you walk out from his room, to the hallway and pull on your shoes fast. Slamming the door behind you as you leave the Bokuto residence. Sobs erupting from your mouth and tears falling down as you walk with fast steps home.

Bokuto could only watch from his bedroom window as you walked away from him, wondering why there was an aching pain in his chest.

≫ ----- ≪·•♕•·≫ ----- ≪ 

It had been a week since you'd last seen Bokuto. You missed him. So much. You wanted to write 'I miss you' on a rock and throw it in his face just to show him how much it hurts missing him. But what good would that do? It wouldn't make him love you.

Once you had gotten home that night a week ago you had slammed the front door hard and started sobbing, your back against the door as you slowly slid your back down so you were sitting against it instead. Your face in the palm of your hands as you continued to sob and hated the pain that was in your chest. You wanted it gone. You wanted to forget about Bokuto. You wanted him out of your life.

Okay, not really. You wanted him to feel the same. You wanted him to tell you that he loved you. That it was all a stupid prank and that he actually loved you.

The vibrating sound of your phone against the bedside table interrupted you from your thoughts as you picked it up, seeing a text message from Akaashi.

Akaashi Keiji: Hi. How are you doing?

You: I'm shit. Literally a bag of shit.

Akaashi Keiji: Well if it makes you feel any better, Bokuto-san is feeling like shit too.

You: Good. He should. Asshole.

Akaashi Keiji: Give it time. I think the both of you need time apart. He'll come around, I'm sure.

You: What I need isn't what I want, but thanks Akaashi-kun.

You throw your phone down beside you on the bed. The feeling of tears welling up in your eyes yet again.

“Stop fucking crying (y/n),” you tell yourself loudly and sigh, brushing away the tears with the sleeve of your shirt. For a week now you'd been drowning in your own tears. Skipping school and just lying in bed, sleeping and barely eating. Just drowning in your own sadness, wishing for Bokuto and his arms to embrace you. Wishing for this nightmare to be over.

Once again does your phone vibrate and when you look at who it is, you suddenly forget how to breathe. A text message from Bokuto.

Bokuto “Airhead” Koutarou: Hey, hey, heeeeey (y/n). How are you? Okay shit question but... I know you don't want to see me and you said not to speak to you but I really wanna see you and talk with you. Can I come over?

You: No. Leave me alone!

You start crying again. How much can a person even cry? When was this going to end? You didn't know how much more heartache you could take...

≫ ----- ≪·•♕•·≫ ----- ≪ 

Walking into school on a monday morning you tried to look normal, like your whole world wasn't crashing right in front of you. Reaching your locker, you pulled out your shoes, pulling them on and walking towards your classroom. Not in the slightest ready for a class. Reaching the stairs, you start to climb up only to be stopped as someone was waiting for you at the top of the stairs. That someone being Bokuto.

Sighing, you continue and walk past him. “I told you to leave me alone.”

“I just wanna talk,” he spoke as he caught up with you. Him slightly walking behind you.

“Well, I don't. I wanna get over you and I can't do that when you're interrupting me all the damn time.”

“I don't like this eaither. I'm also hurting.” You stop in your tracks, making Bokuto bump right into you.

“You're hurting?” You say, a bit louder than what you intended. Turning around to face him, tears in your eyes, you speak again. “You don't know what I'm feeling. My heart is fucking broken. I love you. I've loved you all this time and I was so fucking stupid for thinking that you felt somewhat the same but stupid little (y/n) could only think as long as her nose can reach.” You start to walk away from him. Class had already begun and the hallways were empty, only you and Bokuto were there.

“Sometimes you gotta lose somebody just to find out you really loved someone,” he speaks. Making you stop in your tracks once again. You start to breathe heavily as you wait for him to continue.

“I've never experienced love before. I was scared, of what I can't tell but I was stupid, okay?” His footsteps kept getting louder and clearer, meaning he was closing in on you.

“My heart cannot find rest while you are gone, everything has lost its color since you are not here. I miss you. The biggest mistake of my life was letting you go. Trust me, all I want is to be with you. I-” Bokuto stops himself for speaking any further. He's close to you, so close that when you see him moving so he's in front of you all you can do is to watch his body, not daring to look at him as your tears are pouring from your eyes, listening to his words.

“I love your flaws, laugh, smile, tears, mistakes, errors, nagging and lies. Despite everything, I just want to be with you again. And this time, I won't let you go. If you want to cry, I'll be your shoulder. If you're not happy, I'll be your smile. If you need me, I'll always be there.”

There's a big quiet moment before he speaks again. “If I could do it all over again... I would know what it felt like to lose you. If you give me just one more chance I promise, I will do everything in my power to keep you.”

Taking a deep breath, you gaze up into his eyes. Seeing the hurt in them. Okay so maybe Akaashi didn't lie. He did look like shit. Closing your eyes and taking a deep breath, you opened them again. Looking into his golden orbs as you spoke.

“I'm scared, Bokuto. But maybe I'm scared because you mean more to me than any other person. You are everything I think about, everything I need, everything I want.”

He stepped even closer, your chest now touching his. You could hear your own heartbeat, nervous of what his reply would be.

His hands reaches for yours, holding them as he speaks to you. “I know... I'm sorry. Let me make it up to you? I know I don't deserve you, I don't have right to even be asking this... but please, just one more chance. I am not promising not to fight with you, or get mad at you but I am promising to give myself to you, completely. Please, just let me try to be what you need.”

“Okay,” you answer because you want him. You want him in your arms, on your lips, in your bed. All of him. His mind, soul and body, all at once.

“W-What?”

“I said okay. Want me to repeat myself airhead?” You smile at him. The goofy and emotional captain of the Fukurodani volleyball team smiles back at you.

“Don't go and use Kuroo's nicknames on me.”

“You'll always be an airhead, wheter you like it or not.”

“C'mere,” he said as he pulls you to him, embracing you in his strong arms. His cologne hitting your nose. He pulls your chin up with his hand and kisses you softly on the lips. Both of your eyes closing as you lean into the kiss more, his lips tasting like mint.

“I've missed this,” you speak softly against him, your lips never breaking apart.

“Me too.”

“Don't leave me again.”

“Never,” he replied as he pulls you even closer, not daring to let you go.

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 310: A Tale of Two Kacchans

Previously on BnHA: Flashback!Deku was all, “hey, you know what sounds like a good decision? Abandoning my studies at the safest place in the country so that the bad guy who wants to find me and kill me has literally nothing standing in his way of doing that.” All Might was all, “I fucking knew you were going to say some bullshit like that so whatever, but I’M COMING WITH YOU and I’m also going to invite the Hawksquad to come with us, mostly so that I can steal Jeanist’s car.” Jeanist was all, “okay fine you can borrow my car, All Might, but only if you wear jeans.” All Might was all, “okay sure” and he wore jeans and also sunglasses and a leather jacket and it was pretty rad. Anyway so now they’re out there fighting crime and hunting down the LoV and stuff, and absolutely none of it is going to end well, I’m just letting you know now. But I guess we’ll let them enjoy it while it lasts.

Today on BnHA: Horikoshi is all “happy belated Kacchan’s Birthday makeste, here’s the flashback you really wanted at long last,” and proceeds to pull the old vestige flashback out of the kitchen drawer and upend its contents all over my Friday afternoon without the slightest bit of warning. OFA III is all “WHAT’S UP I’M JUST SOME GUY, HELLO,” and okay?? Hello yourself. OFA II, on the other hand, is all, “okay yeah I have different hair and stuff, but I’m like 98% sure I’m either Bakugou or his goddamn twin, I mean look at me.” Which, yeah. I looked, and he really is though you guys. Anyway though, so he and OFA II basically just showed up in the First (who goes by Yoichi now)’s prison cell one day all “HEY THERE, WE’RE HERE TO SAVE YOU, APPARENTLY, ALTHOUGH WE SEEM REAL CONFUSED ABOUT IT TBH BUT HEY.” And so they saved him, and Yoichi was all “hey nice to meet you do you want to join my super-exclusive Saving The World Club”, and so they did, and then the chapter ended lol. I would have said yes too.

oh my sweet lord?? I didn’t realize we were getting a color page this week, but LOOK AT THIS

this could have been a fucking volume cover. I’m almost mad that it wasn’t, lol but I mean fkldjslklk just look at it??! Horikoshi out here spoiling us and making sure we’re well fed since next week the manga is on break for Golden Week. well this will certainly help to tide me over. hot damn look at those colors

so now it’s raining on some dumb building in the middle of somewhere

is this where the Hawksquad has set up camp for the night? or are we actually cutting back to the League? that’d be unexpected (but not unwelcome)

ffff nevermind dammit it’s just more random citizens under attack

feels like this is the third or fourth scene we’ve had of civilians being Under Attack since this arc started. I mean no offense, but I think we get it by this point. it’s the end times, etc. etc. we’re well aware that things have gone to shit

so apparently these two guys are facing off against a girl with a mutant quirk. and she’s telling them that she’s not a monster and she was just scared, oh shit. I believe her btw, you can see it in her face

but these assholes don’t believe her at all and they’re pointing what looks to be some type of support item gun at her

you know what’s interesting, is that this kind of random quirk discrimination is the exact kind of thing PLF and the like were swearing up and down they’d put a stop to with their glorious revolution. it’s almost like those guys were completely full of shit. huh

so yeah, fortunately for this woman someone is stepping in and intervening before she can be blasted to bits by this trigger-happy asshole for absolutely no fucking reason

looks like a hero actually stepped in and saved her?? but no that can’t be, heroes are the ones that ruin everything and make everything worse, or so I understand. lol where did all of this sarcasm come from out of nowhere dlkdsjlk I’m sorry guys I just suddenly got swept up in the hypocrisy of certain people’s philosophies out of the blue idek

anyway so it is of course Deku saving her, and now he’s trying to talk thess jerks down all diplomatically instead of just kicking their asses, which is certainly a choice

MOTHERFUCKER I’M

fucking impossible to miss the real world parallels here. shit. this woman nearly died for her crime of Walking While Having A Mutant Quirk huh. and meanwhile Deku is just letting this guy scurry away and even letting him keep that fucking bazooka of his, like, ????

fucking hell she’s crying!!

lmao this chapter is actively trying to make me mad now huh. that’s some genuine righteous anger I’m feeling on behalf of this fictional ferret lady whom I only met two minutes ago. girl you are not the one who needs to explain herself here!! you didn’t do anything wrong holy fuck. everything about this situation sucks so much

fkKJKLMMMHFGH

“I’m sorry I made you upset, please enjoy this panel of tiny!floating!Deku hefting this lady’s massive beach umbrella up for her like the fucking gentleman he is” well okay then thank you sir

and JUST LIKE THAT the tension is broken and I’m entirely incapable of taking the rest of this conversation seriously because Deku’s trying to be all calming and authoritative, but now the illusion has been broken because I know he only comes up to like her knees

“well thanks again for saving me young man. I’ll leave you to it, I’m sure you’ve got more important things to do like protecting your Lucky Charms cereal from all those greedy children”

oh hey All Might

you wouldn’t have just let that guy with the bazooka just walk away to commit more attempted murders would you?? man

OH MY GOD DEKU IS IMMEDIATELY DITCHING HIM AGAIN

I ~CANNOT STAY HERE~ oh, well, sorry to keep you detained I know you’re busy

dfslkjlk oh my god

fucking told you Deku didn’t pack any food lol. it’s literally all notebooks in that bag you guys. he couldn’t just leave them all in his dorm room when he left, because what if someone tried to read them and came across one of the pages where he absentmindedly doodled Kacchan’s name surrounded by little tiny hearts oh gosh

AWWWWW

I needed this Horikoshi. thank you for this wholesome soul-cleansing interaction after all of that bullshit earlier

so now Deku’s climbing up this tall building to eat his lunchbox more dramatically. Tokoyami would be proud

and Banjou is saying that society right now is just like in The Good Old Days (read: bad old days) when quirk society was even more of a mess than it is now

which is exactly how AFO likes it, no doubt

so now Deku’s having a whole conversation with Banjou seemingly out loud lol, weird. and he’s basically saying that they don’t have any clues as to where TomurAFO and the League are hiding right now, and none of the Tartarus escapees they’ve found knew anything either

mmmmmfmhm, marge simpson noises

but you think you can?? you, alone, by yourself?? you think you stand a chance?? I just need you to think this all through a bit more kid

Deku it is NOT JUST YOUR RESPONSIBILITY ALONE, PLEASE REALIZE THIS ALREADY. YOU MAY BE THE CHOSEN ONE, BUT EVEN THE CHOSEN ONE NEEDS HIS FRIENDS BY HIS SIDE GODDAMMIT

and of course my pleading is all in vain, because he’s a fictional character who can’t fucking hear me, and also because I’m pretty sure there’s only one character who is going to actually be able to get him to hear reason here. I’ve been saying it, and I’ll keep saying it lol. so until then I guess I’ll just have to be patient

anyway so it appears we’re segueing into another flashback??? HORIKOSHI PLEASE GIVE ME SOME BAKUCRUMBS BEFORE THE TWO WEEK BREAK, I BEG YOU

dlKSDJLFKWJELKGHSLGKLEKJLFKHLGK

YES, THANK YOU, I KNOW WHERE THIS FUCKING IS LOL, IT’S NOT LIKE I’VE BEEN OBSESSED WITH FINDING OUT WHAT HAPPENS IN THE REST OF THIS SCENE OR ANYTHING LMAO. BUT ANYWAYS DON’T MIND ME, YOU WERE SAYING??

oh my god oh my god I’m not readyyyyy, but also FUCK YEAH I AM SO FUCKING READY LOL LET’S DO THIS

YOU GUYS

I’M ABOUT TO STEP IN THAT ROOM AND YEET ONE OF THOSE FUCKING CHAIRS AT YOU ALL

NOOOOO

I’M ABOUT TO GRAB BANJOU’S GOGGLES AND STRETCH THEM OUT AND SNAP THEM BACK SO THEY SMACK THE SHIT OUT OF HIS FOREHEAD!!! IT’S WHAT HE DESERVES!!! I’M ABOUT TO MOVE TO JAPAN AND GET A JOB WITH DOORDASH AND FIND OUT WHAT HORIKOSHI LIKES TO ORDER FOR LUNCH SO I CAN BE THE ONE TO DELIVER IT SO THAT WHEN HE OPENS THE DOOR I CAN FINALLY ASK HIM “HEY WHAT THE FUCK” IN PERSON

AHHH NO EVERYBODY SHHHHH STOP TALKING!!!!

SOMEONE PLEASE TELL THAT PERSON SCREAMING AT THE TOP OF THEIR LUNGS IN THE BACKGROUND TO SHUT THE FUCK UP, OH WAIT, THAT’S ME

(」゜ロ゜)」 щ(゜ロ゜щ)

LOL THIS FUCKING ASSHOLE!!! LOOK AT YOU!!! YOU’RE NOT KIRISHIMA OR SHINSOU OR IIDA IN A WIG OR ANYBODY LOL. YOU’RE JUST A DUDE. BROOOOO ABOUT FUCKING TIME, WHAT’S GOOD

I CAN’T SCROLL DOWN AHHHH BUT I HAVE TO BUT IT’S TOO INTENSE AHHHHHHH

I CAN SEE THE TOP OF HIS SPIKY HEAD, IT’S FINALLY THAT TIME AHHHHHHHH OKAY I’M GONNA DO IT HERE GOES

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

IT’S HIM. IT FUCKING REALLY FUCKIGN IS HIM OH MY GOD. OH MY GOD. WHY AM I SO SHOCKED LMAO I’M THE ONE WHO’S BEEN SAYING THIS THE WHOLE DAMN TIME LMAO. OH GOD. O H MY FUCKING GOD

well okay then sir. so are you an ~ancestor~ or a Kacchan from another timeline or so what’s your deal then

YOICHI WHO IS YOICHI

YOICHI ALWAYS KNOWS WHAT’S UP. LMAO WHO IS YOICHI

(ETA: I’m going to punch myself in the face lmao. he’s Yoichi. he, the First. that’s his name. name reveal at long last what what!!)

MORE IMPORTANTLY SHOULD I BE IMAGINING NOBU’S VOICE RIGHT NOW BECAUSE LMAO I AM ANYWAY BUT YEAH

(ETA: I actually think he’s going to end up being voiced by Nobuhiko whether he ends up being Kacchan or not, just because it fits right in with the general “identical in almost every way” aesthetic he’s got going on.)

TUMBLR HOW WE LIKING OUR ANGSTY ALTERNATE UNIVERSE KACCHAN?? EVERYONE HATED YOU SO MUCH BEFORE THEY EVEN MET YOU, BUT THEY FORGOT TO CONSIDER THE POSSIBILITY THAT YOU MIGHT BE HOT LMAO WHAT A TWIST

“some bright-eyed brat” oh come on. IT’S GOTTA BE HIM LOL

oh my god you all are probably TIRED AS FUCK of all my screaming but I’M SORRY IMMA HAVE TO DO IT ONE LAST TIME BECAUSE...

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

that face. that expression!! THE FACT THAT HE’S OUT HERE OPENING DOORS WITH HIS FEET, LIKE HOLY SHIT!! JUST ADMIT THE JIG IS UP ALREADY

and so they really are the ones who busted First out of his jail cell huh

so how did they know you were in the room?? why did they come and break you out?? and how, pray tell, did they know to get you to transfer OFA to them?? hmmmMMMMMMMM

oh MY GOD

you guys. oh my god. it’s too much. every last bit of it lines up exactly with the Bakuverse theory sdkjfj I’m short-circuiting. it’s really fucking happening oh my lord

HELLO SEXY ALTERNATE UNIVERSE KACCHAN WITH HIS SEXY FUCKING SCAR, FUCK YEAH WE REALLY ARE EATING GOOD THIS CHAPTER

HELL YEAH WE’RE GOING. WE’RE GOING FULL SPEED YOU GUYS. LMAO I’M SO FUCKING HYPED RIGHT NOW I DON’T EVEN KNOW WHAT TO DO WITH MYSELF WEFKJLDKFFFF

SO, EVERYONE, LET’S RECAP. -- ACTUALLY NO, I STARTED TO WRITE UP A LIST, BUT I IMMEDIATELY REALIZED IT REALLY JUST NEEDS TO GO IN ITS OWN THREAD. SO I MADE IT AND POSTED IT, AND NOW I’M FINISHING UP THIS HOT MESS OF A RECAP POST. SO NOW WE’RE BACK TO THIS ONE FINAL PANEL OF DEKU EATING HIS KATSU ALL SERIOUS

YES SIR. YES SIR, WE GOING, FULL SPEED AHEAD, WHATEVER, IDK WTF IS HAPPENING BUT YES!!

lol, anyways so as I said in my other post, mysterious sexy guys with tragic pasts are what bring us together as a fandom, so whatever your thoughts are on the rest of it, let’s just rejoice in that. it’s what we deserve

[scoobysnack1107]

So grateful I was able to commission the incredible @rainbow-taishi again for another gorgeous RokuNami piece! As always, Jin did an absolutely amazing job! The colors and atmosphere are warm, the expressions soft, and the detailing exquisite 🥺💞 Thank you again Jin for making making my day and bringing a huge smile to my face 💖

For anyone interested, I wrote an accompanying story!

You can read it below or on ao3: Un Rendez-vous Romantique

(special thank you to @jysumrae for using her French skills to help me with the title 💖 )

                                       Un Rendez-vous Romantique

 Naminé checked the time on her gummi phone again. Five minutes before seven o’clock. Five minutes before Roxas was supposed to arrive at the bistro for their date. Their first date she reminded herself.

    All around her, tables were filled with laughing couples sharing colorful concoctions that were placed onto tables by waiters dressed in well-tailored suits. Naminé, dressed in her signature white dress and blue sandals, was the only one sitting alone.

    She couldn’t help but wonder how seriously he had taken the idea. He had been the one that asked her out with that boyish grin she was powerless to resist. But this was the first time they would be together like this. Unencumbered by heartless, the Organization, Diz. Tonight, it was just the two of them in the most romantic place in town.

    Unless…he stood her up.

    Naminé’s heart sunk, and as the people milling by the bistro cast her curious looks, she started feeling more and more self-conscious. Did they think he wasn’t coming?

    “Don’t worry, Naminé. Trust me, he’ll come.”

    Startled, Naminé looked up and found Sora offering her a comforting grin. He was dressed in a white chef’s uniform and tall toque that somehow managed to stay atop his spiky head of hair. In his hands, he was carrying a large, unopened box decorated with golden fleur de lis and something scribbled on top in black marker.

    “Sora? Why are you—” she trailed off, suddenly remembering that her friend had become an occasional helping hand at the restaurant during his travels. Though, admittedly, it was strange to think of Sora as a chef in a high-end bistro like this. “Thank you. I guess I’m just a little nervous.”

    In the distance, the bell of the clock tower tolled, signaling the passing of another hour. Seven o’clock.

    Sora had to be right.

    “Excuse me! Coming through!”

    Outside the bistro, some kind of commotion had started. The tram stopping in its track as a boy riding a black and white skateboard came racing through. A flock of pigeons wandering the bistro’s checkered plaza dispersed in a flurry of feathers, and one of the waiters nearly dropped a plate of ratatouille before said boy arrived in front of Naminé’s table with an apologetic smile.

    “I am so sorry, Naminé,” Roxas said, finally catching his breath, “I promise I didn’t forget. Really. I got caught up delivering letters again because Lea ‘sprained’ his ankle and couldn’t finish his half.” Roxas shook his head. Of all the days Lea felt it necessary to fake an injury.

    Naminé couldn’t help herself. She laughed, and the anxiety that had been chipping away at her nerves dissipated with the sound. “It’s fine, Roxas. I’m glad you were able to make it. I can’t say I expected that kind of entrance though.” Another laugh slipped past her lips when she noticed a stray feather in his hair.

    Roxas scratched the back of his head sheepishly. “I can’t say I really planned it that way.”

    Plucking the feather from the skater’s head unceremoniously, Sora handed his friend the box he was holding. “Well, now that you’re finally here, I’d say it’s time for you two love birds to enjoy your date with a little Tarte aux Fruits, courtesy of Little Chef and I!” Sora patted his toque affectionately, prompting a tiny gray mouse to peek out from beneath the hat before scurrying back inside with a squeak. “He’s a little shy,” Sora whispered.

    “He’s cute,” Naminé cooed.

    Roxas flipped open the lid of the box to examine the dessert. Inside the box was a round and colorful tart decorated with fresh strawberries, blueberries, kiwis, and peaches. “Sora, you know it’s just the two of us, right?” Usually, the bistro only served the desserts by slices. Not entire tartlets like this.

    Sora pushed the lid back down and pointed to the writing on top.

      Enjoy your date!

      - Sora and Little Chef

    “Yep! But you’re my friends and Little Chef insisted. It’s not like you can’t take the leftovers home. I’m sure Lea and Xion would eat a few slices for you.”

    Curious, Naminé stood up to peer inside the box too. Sora really was too sweet.  Everything about the dessert was handled with care, with each fruit arranged so precisely, Naminé could only imagine how long her friend had spent perfecting the delectable concoction. “Thank you, Sora. This is perfect, but you know, we’ll be saving you and Little Chef a slice too. It wouldn’t feel right for our chefs not to taste their own creation.”

    “Heh, guess not,” Sora agreed, scratching his cheek.

    “You can drop by the Old Mansion after work if you’d like,” Naminé suggested, “No one goes to bed early anyway, since it’s summer vacation.”

    “Yeah, and plus, you still owe me a rematch on Classic Kingdom Melee,” Roxas said with a competitive glint in his blue eyes.

    Sora chuckled and laced his hands behind his head. “So eager to get your butt handed to you again?”

    “I have Naminé’s good luck charm this time,” Roxas said confidently, “So, there’s no way I’m gonna lose again.”

    “We’ll see,” Sora said in a sing-song voice. The two boys jibed one another for another minute until Sora was called back into the kitchen by a short, portly chef with a silver whisk and a toque taller than him.

    Roxas set the box with the tart on the table and moved to pull Naminé’s chair out for her with a flourish. “Madame.”

    “How gentlemanly,” Naminé giggled as she took her seat.

   Taking the chair across from her, Roxas signaled over one of the waiters who promptly brought them two plates and utensils to slice their dessert. Naminé, her hands small and adept, cut them each a generous piece.

    The window behind them cast a warm golden glow and was embossed with the bistro’s name, Le Grand Bistrot, in neat gold lettering. Inside, the restaurant’s staff busied themselves, the sound of clattering dishes and whirring kitchen appliances blending with the soft instrumental tune floating from the speakers outside.

    Naminé spoke again first. “So, you and Hayner are entering the Struggle Tournament this year?”

    “We’re gonna win this year” Roxas boasted with a grin. He picked up his dessert but didn’t take a bite as sparks of excitement began to dance in his eyes. “We’ve been training every day since sign ups.”

    “Confident I see,” Naminé teased.

    “Always,” Roxas returned, his grin turning sly, “And besides, I’ve won the digital version once already. The real thing can’t be any harder.”

    Naminé conceded with a smile. “That is true.”

    As Roxas explained his new strategy for this year’s tournament, Naminé listened attentively, offering nods and questions at different intervals as she nibbled at her dessert. She liked seeing him so excited. After everything they had been through, happiness like this was well-deserved.

    “Promise to cheer me on?” Roxas asked. His gaze was intense now, making Naminé’s heart skip a beat.

    Naminé averted his eyes, playing with her hair as she answered shyly. “I’ll be in the front row the entire time.”

    “U-Uh, thanks” Roxas blushed at her words and drew his own gaze away. “But um…anyway,” Roxas coughed, “How about you? You mentioned buying some new paints the other day. Have you been able to try them out yet?”

    This time, it was Naminé’s face that lit up. She pressed her fingers together and tilted her head happily. “I have! I’ve been painting lots of landscapes with them, and I want to try portraits too.”

    “Is this your subtle way of asking me to be your model?” Roxas joked.

    “Mmm, maybe. Though, I’m not entirely sure you’d be able to stay still the entire time.”

    Roxas raised his eyebrows. “That sounds like a challenge.”

    “You really think you can sit still for more than an hour?” Naminé asked dubiously.

    “With the right kind of incentive.”

    Without hesitating, Naminé replied. “Sea salt ice cream?”

    “Bingo,” Roxas said and bit into his slice of the tart.

    Naminé didn’t try to conceal her laughter. Roxas really was predictable. And adorable.  “I think I can arrange that.”

    “Then, we have ourselves a deal!” Roxas held out a hand across the table, and Naminé shook it as if it was actually some kind of serious, contractual agreement.

    The two continued to talk, reminiscing over the new memories they had made in the real Twilight Town. Like the first time they had all gone to Sunset Hill for a meteor shower or when they took that impromptu trip to Radiant Garden because somehow Twilight Town had run out of sea salt ice cream. Granted, it had been a particularly hot day. But still…

    “I feel like summer vacation is too short,” Roxas complained, “and who thought it was a good idea to assign homework? We’re supposed to be on a break.”

    Naminé’s lips twitched knowingly. “You still haven’t started, have you?”

    “I tried, but the computer keeps crashing on me, so I can’t do any kind of research,” Roxas explained, pouting as he crossed his arms.

    “You and computers,” Naminé sighed, shaking her head, “What are you writing your report on?”

    “Not sure yet. Hayner, Pence, and Olette want to do something about the seven wonders, but that’s a little too déjà vu for me, you know?”

    Naminé tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Hmm, maybe you can do a report about the beach?”

    “The beach?” Roxas cocked his head curiously.

    “Yeah, like what kind of fish are in the ocean here or ways to keep our beaches clean,” Naminé continued. Roxas loved the beach. The first time they went, Roxas nearly tripped over himself running across the sand to get to the water, and he didn’t come out until it was time to leave.

    “Looks like we’re going to the beach this week then, huh?” Roxas asked with a coy grin.

    Naminé returned the smile.  “Looks like it.”

    By the time they were ready to leave, with their leftovers secured in a to-go bag, the last embers of the twilight sky above had faded, blanketing the sunset hues beneath a veil of stars. The night air was still, the bustle of the usually busy town subdued as most citizens retired to their homes to sleep.

    “I had a lot of fun tonight,” Naminé said, staring down at her feet bashfully.

    “Me too.” There was a brief silence that hung between them before Roxas added in a hesitant but hopeful voice. “Maybe we can do it again sometime?”

    “I would love that,” Naminé answered softly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

    “Y-You know, there’s gonna be that new movie playing down at the theater this Friday. We could grab dinner here and then go see that?”

    “It’s a date!” Naminé agreed happily, and her heart soared.

    Roxas took her hand and intertwined their fingers. “It’s a date.”

[sweater-daddiesdumbdork]

Real Life Tasks With Ransom Drysdale

An Advent Calendar Of 24 Normal Human Task As Performed By A Huge Man Baby.

Day 8: It Is The Most Important Meal Of The Day 

Warnings: Bad Language Words 

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale X Reader

A/N: HELLO! Welcome back for another day of Ransom Drysdale mishaps! Is he hopeless? Well between myself, @what-is-your-plan-today​ and @jennmurawski13​ he seems to be, but I think some day he will get the hang of it. Maybe. Happy Reading! 

Series Masterlist

“Why don't we just go out to the Beehive for breakfast?” Ransom questioned with a hand on his hips while you searched the refrigerator to pull out eggs, veggies and ham. You close the door with your hip and walk around your husband with a tired sigh, setting it all out on the counter. 

“Because I can just cook for us Ransom. We’ve been out every day this week, and to the Beehive Diner twice for breakfast, I just want to stay home.” You open the cupboards and search for a bowl to whisk your eggs in, and glance at Ransom who seems stuck between agreeing and making an argument that it would be easier to just go. “Besides, I'm making it, you don't have to cook Ransom. If you want to go so bad, go. But I’m staying home.” 

His mouth snapped shut and a dark eyebrow arched at you while listening. You sounded tired and even though he thought it was easier to let someone else cook and bring the food to you, you seemed set on just staying home. In your oversized tee shirt that was starting to stretch a bit more over your belly and leggings. “Well I can cook if you want me to.” Ransom finally spoke up, in which You pause, and turn to face him, your hand resting on your belly. “I mean, you do it most of the time, and you are not feeling like going out. Let me.” He stepped forward, catching you by surprise, and wrapped his arms around your waist. “It's about time I learn right? When we have this kid running around, we will be staying home more.” 

His logic was sound, and you wrapped your arms around the back of his neck and looked up at him, really touched at the effort he was making with all of this. Your fingers tangled at the trimmed hair along the back of his head, and nodded. “Are you sure you know what to do with all this Ransom?”

He rolled his eyes at you with an exaggerated huff escaping, even though you looked doubtful. “Y/N how many times do I have to tell you I’m not a complete invalid. I had a nanny who I watched cook omelets all the time. Whisk some eggs, add that extra crap, fold it over. Done.” 

They were eggs, if he can't cook eggs then Ransom really would be hopeless you thought to yourself. “Okay, I am going to go take a shower then since you are offering.” You tilted to your tip toes and pressed a kiss to his lips. “If you need anything, get me. I swear Ransom, let's not do another roast pork in the crockpot incident.” 

“Are you ever going to let that go Princess?” he huffed against your lips, and you fell back to the flat of your feet. 

“Maybe next year, you did almost poison your parents after all Ransom.” Your hand slid against his chest as you pulled away with a grin. 

Ransom smirked hearing you, wiggling eyebrows as you headed for the stairs. “Maybe that was actually what I was trying to do Princess.” You shook your head at him and went up slowly. Once you left, Ransom almost considered just calling for a delivery from the diner down the road. They made those omelets you so loved, which is what you seemed to be making by looking at the mix of ingredients on the counter. But you really seemed set against eating out, and that would include takeout. 

“Fuck its just eggs, damn it. Your better then letting a couple fucking eggs beat you.” He approached the bowl and started to crack eggs into the bowl. Unsure of how many to do, because he had never actually cooked an omelet before, he just did the whole carton. Grabbing a small knife he had seen you use before, he started to dice the veggies, shred some of the ham and set it all aside. “Well it isn’t no Gordon Ramsey, but not’ bad.” He said out loud to himself while inspecting his handy work of wildly sized vegetables. 

Now was time for the real challenge. The actual cooking of these eggs. 

It took him a few minutes to get a pan that looked like it was made to cook on the stove, which he cranked on the heat and set the skillet down. While it was heating, he waited thinking that the skillet had to be sizzling before putting the eggs in. Once he saw a small curl of smoke roll out of the pan, he took the massive bowl of eggs he had diligently cracked, and tipped them into the pan. 

The sizzle was immediate, egg whites started popping out of the pan from where he didn’t whisk them together enough, the smoke billowed up to fill the room and soon the eggs were boiling over the too small skillet to dry on the electric stove top, and catch on fire. 

This all happened in moments. Faster than Ransom was expecting, he watched with a colorful string of curses escaping him as the orange flames crackled amid the black smoke. 

“Oh you motherfucker!” He turned off the stove and searched for anything to grab the pan with. “Fuck, fuck fuck fuck, son of a bitch.” Ransom is ripping open drawers, and pawing through the cupboard at the bottom of the sink till he finds a hand towel, which he wraps around his hand. Grabbing the handle of the skillet, he shoots for the sink and dumps it all in, turning on the water. Somewhere a fire alarm is blaring and he can hear your footsteps thumping above him to go down the stairs, which he darts out of the kitchen, coughing while using the hand towel to shoo away the burnt smoke clinging to him. “Stop right there Y/N!” 

You pause mid step, clutching a towel around yourself, soap still streaked along your shoulders and neck. “Ransom are you okay? Do I need to call the fire department?” 

Coughing he waved his hand to have you go back upstairs. “No, it's fine, I got it. You go back to your shower.” 

“I think I should really help you…” You started down the stairs, but Ransom went up a few steps to block you and turn you around. 

“No, go back upstairs. Your dripping soap all over the rug.” 

You try to peek over the railing into the kitchen, but he turns you around and has you start back up the stairs. “Ransom the kitchen is filled with smoke.” You try to stall but he gives you another nudge. 

“It's nothing, I got this. Go finish.” 

After you finally relented, sputtering all the way back up “I shouldn’t have let him in my kitchen, fuck I hope we can get someone in here to fix it. Maybe Linda knows someone” 

Ransom scoffed with a “I heard that, we wouldn't use my mother… BUT THE KITCHEN IS FINE” He raised his voice while you slammed the bathroom door shut. Ransom waited a few seconds to be sure you wouldn’t try coming back down just yet. Then went back down into the kitchen, prying open some windows and went to look at the mess in the sink. 

“Fucking hell, I should have just ordered in. Why the fuck didn’t I just order it in?” He heard the shower start back up, and went to the pantry instead, avoiding the stove now. Pushing stuff around while in the pantry, muttering to himself, determined not to make that phone call. 

You came back down about fifteen minutes later, cautious as you stepped into the kitchen. The smell of burnt eggs clung to the air, and you started to breath subtly through your mouth, so your stomach did not turn. Ransom sat at the table and you moved over to him, slipping into his lap to see what he had set the table with. Spread out was some of your cups of yogurt, a cut up banana and bundle of grapes, along with your granola cereal. 

Ransom's arm circled around your waist, and you reached for a grape, turning enough to offer it to him. “It looks really good Handsome.” You pressed the grape to his lips, and he let it slide in, chewing slowly. 

“I can still order in. Twenty minutes for a hot breakfast.” He started and you shook your head, leaning forward to grab one of the yogurt cups to peel off the top as well as the granola to sprinkle in. 

“Ransom, this is exactly what your spawn wants right now. Fresh fruit and yogurt. The thought of eggs is a no right now. Might be for a while…” 

Ransoms head tilted back while he groaned, knowing it was because he had burned the fucking eggs. Seeing him, you laughed while mixing it up and offered him a bite. 

“I am not hungry anymore.” He glared at the spoon of yogurt and you shrugged, taking it for yourself. “I think that stove is broken.” 

“I think you just need some actual lessons. Which we're going to do tonight.” 

That earned you another groan from Ransom while he pressed his lips to your shoulder. “Fuck it, you should have just let me order in.” he groaned against your skin while you took another bite of yogurt and granola.

[moonlightserenadeeznutz]

Top Surgery

Oneshot about (trans) Remus Lupin getting top surgery. Bit of wolfstar as well.

Disclaimer: To all my trans boys/trans masc people reading this. You are no less trans, nor are you no less male/masculine if you decide against top surgery, or if you don’t/can’t get top surgery. This goes for bottom surgery, binding, hormones, etc. Your body doesn’t define your gender, nor does what you decide to do with it. <3 ~ Remus wasn’t allowed to get top surgery until he was seventeen. Well... “top surgery” was the muggle name for it. In the wizarding world, a simple spell would do the trick. But there was a law in the wizarding world stating that parts of the body weren’t allowed to be removed from an underage wizard or witch unless said body part was detrimental to the child’s life, say, an unfixable limb, or a gangrenous leg. And despite Remus’ adamance that his chest was a detriment, specifically to his mental health, (when would the wizarding world take mental health seriously? He regularly thought to himself), the law disagreed. So he had to wait until he was of age.

In the meantime, he simply wore a shirt with a binding charm put upon it, which did the trick to make his chest look flat with his clothes on, but he was desperate to just be able to take his shirt off, in the hot weather or in bed. He forwent ever swimming in the lake with his friends because he couldn’t swim with his binder on, but he didn’t want his chest to be noticeable. So he had to sit by the edge of the lake instead, his feet dipped in and his friends splashing at him from within the water.

Another problem Remus faced was that, even when he did turn seventeen, he had no idea where to go to get top surgery. He lived in 1970s Britain. There were simply no resources, muggle or wizarding, and he didn’t have the money anyway. And Madam Pomfrey couldn’t do it. She was a school nurse, she wasn’t allowed to perform procedures. She could only give out potions and fix up bones. Procedures were for St Mungos. And St Mungos didn’t have top surgery as an option.

The days leading up to Remus’s seventeenth birthday made him rather depressed. He’d soon be of age, but it wouldn’t make any difference. He was stuck. Stuck in the wrong body, and there was nothing he could do.

Of course, he had been on hormones since second year, or at least the wizarding version of hormones, which was just a transfiguration potion, and luckily for him, it wasn’t against wizarding law as long as he had his parents’ permission, which he did. And the potion had changed his body considerably. His voice deepened, he had facial hair and he tried hard to work out so he had abs and muscles, which he knew wasn’t exactly necessary, and he didn’t go overboard, but really he was just trying to offset the dysphoria he got from his chest by making the rest of him look as masculine as possible.

He was in a similar situation with bottom dysphoria, but at least he was able to hide it. Getting surgery for that wasn’t as pressing as his chest, and because of the potion he at least didn’t have to worry about his periods anymore.

Compared to Remus’s misery before his seventeenth birthday, Sirius, James and Peter were clearly happy about something, but they wouldn’t tell him what it was, even when he threatened to hex them; a threat he regularly used but never went through with, so it didn’t do much to get them to talk.

But he soon found out what they were whispering about on the day of his seventeenth. Sirius handed him an envelope, unlabelled, and said “It’s from all of us.”

“You know, for two rich people, you guys can be real cheapskates.” They just continued smiling expectantly until Remus opened up the envelope and looked inside.

There wasn’t a card like he was expecting, but some sort of advertisement, or pamphlet. He read through it, and his eyebrows knitted together as he read further down the page. The ad was for a wizarding clinic, specifically aimed at trans wizards and witches. It was set up by a guy named Gray Jacobson, who was a trained Healer, and trans himself, and offered all different kinds of things, including top surgery.

“I... don’t get it?” Said Remus eventually, pushing down any hope that was making its way up through his body.

“What’s not to get?” Exclaimed Sirius, no longer containing his excitement. “It’s a secret clinic, away from the ministry and St Mungos and shit, and surgery is affordable. Free even, if you really can’t pay. But don’t worry about that, because we all chipped in-” he was talking a mile a minute.

“Woah, woah, slow down, Padfoot,” interrupted Remus. ““How do you know this clinic is trustworthy.”

“If we didn’t think it was trustworthy, mate, we wouldn’t have shown it to you,” said James. “We’ve been researching it for months, Sirius and I even visited it last half term. The guy, Gray, is really nice. He told us all about it. He can tell you as well. The procedure for getting rid of your chest is so easy. Takes a few minutes, then you have to take a potion every night for a week until you’re all healed up. But then it’s done! No more chest!”

“No more binding!” Grinned Sirius. No more chest. No more binding. God it sounded brilliant. Too good to be true.

“Really?” Was all Remus could manage.

~ Half term was already upon them, so Remus and his friends were able to visit the clinic the next day. And James and Sirius had been right, Gray was very nice. And Remus loved meeting someone else like him. He’d never met another trans man before, and Gray gave him hope for his future. The man seemed happy, content. Remus wanted that.

It didn’t take long for Remus to view the place as perfectly legit, even with his usual paranoid, distrusting self. And according to Gray, the spell really did only take a few minutes, even if he did have to be placed under a sleeping charm while it happened, and he wouldn’t be able to see his chest until a week later. That didn’t bother him at all. What was a week after six years of waiting?

He booked the next appointment for the following Monday, and he really couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this excited. When he left the clinic, Sirius immediately hugged him, and James joined in, until Remus couldn’t even move under their combined weight.

~ The day of the appointment, Remus was nervous. Excited, but nervous. His friends had all agreed that it would be a little overwhelming if they all came with him, so it was decided that Sirius was to be the one to accompany Remus. He was Remus’s boyfriend after all, and besides, wild centaurs couldn’t stop Sirius from being there to support his best friend.

Remus didn’t know what to wear, and he couldn’t help but feel very self conscious at exposing his chest, even for a few minutes. But it was the price he had to pay, and he chose a button up shirt and jeans. Nothing special.

“Here’s the sleeping potion,” said Gray, handing Remus a bottle of silvery liquid. “You’ll be asleep in a matter of minutes, and then awake in another matter of minutes. The only difference is, when you wake up, there’ll sure be a huge weight off your chest.” Sirius snorted from behind the man, and even Remus grinned at the stupid joke. It was definitely something his friends would say.

They were in the clinic now; they’d arrived around twenty minutes ago, and hadn’t needed to wait that long. Sirius held Remus’s hand the entire time, though he seemed to be more nervous than Remus was. Remus was nervous, but the nearer the surgery came to actually happening, the more impatient he felt. He wanted this to be over with, so he could finally feel like himself.

Remus uncapped the potion and drunk it down in one, and within seconds he started to feel light headed and drowsy. Gray helped him to lie back on the bed that he was sitting on, and the last thing he saw before falling asleep was Sirius giving him a very cheesy double thumbs up.

Somehow, within only a few minutes, his brain managed to conjure up what felt like hours of dreaming, although it was so nonsensical that Remus couldn’t make heads nor tails off it, and by the time he’d woken up, he couldn’t remember anything.

It took him some time to come round properly, drowsy as he was, but when the fog from his head finally cleared, he immediately looked down at his chest.

It was wrapped up in bandages, but one thing was certain: his chest was flat.

He ran his hand across the bandages. Yup. Absolutely flat. He almost started crying right then and there.

“Hello, love,” greeted Sirius, seeing that Remus was now awake. Remus stared up at him.

“It’s flat,” he croaked. Sirius grinned.

“It sure is.” Gray walked over to them. He’d been tinkering around with some vials, and he handed one to Remus.

“Take a sip of this every night for a week, it will help your chest to heal fully. Then you can remove the bandages. And if you need anything else, any help, or you have any questions, you know where I am.”

“Thank you.” Remus hoped the man could see just how grateful he was, as he was unable to form full sentences for the moment, the affects of the sleeping potion still lingering. But Gray let him and Sirius go on their way, and like last time with James, Sirius waited until they were out of the clinic, this time using the floo network in the clinic’s fireplace to take them home to their tiny apartment, to throw his arms around Remus. This was it for Remus, and he couldn’t stop himself from breaking down in tears. Good tear of course. Happy tears. If this was what he was like now, he’d be a wreck after a week.

And if Remus was impatient before, he certainly was now. Sirius had to constantly stop him from trying to unwind his bandages early.

“Keep doing that and I will personally pin you to the ground,” Sirius warned.

“Is that a threat or a promise?”

“In this instance it is solely a threat.”

“Fine.”

After what felt like years, the week was finally drawing to a close. And James, Lily and Peter arrived to see the big reveal. It was an audience that made Remus feel a little self conscious, but a part of him didn’t want them to miss this.

They were all crammed into the bathroom, the only place in the apartment that had a mirror. Rather than cutting off the bandages with magic, immediately revealing his chest, he opted for unwinding them by hand. His nervousness had returned to replace his impatience and he wanted to take it slowly.

As the last bandages fell away, he started into the mirror, and his friends cheered beside him. His chest was completely flat, and it looked exactly how he wanted it to look. It was a chest that could be shown off. A chest he could take a shirt off of and go swimming with. Finally. He never had to wear his binder again. He’d never smiled this much in his life, and it only faltered as he tried not to once again start crying. He failed. Sirius went over to kiss him, and soon all his friends were hugging him.

And the first thing he did when half term ended and lessons at Hogwarts were let out for lunchtime, was take his shirt off, and go swimming in the lake with his friends.

[whimsicallyreading]

It’s Time

Masterlist

Bryce could only prolong this talk for so long.

It wasn’t that she didn’t want to talk to Ithan. They’ve both been dying to speak to each other since she closed the gates.

Bryce wanted hug him. To thank Cthona that he’d made it into the cellar, and get to know him as the person he’s become. Conner’s little brother who is all grown up now.

Before they could do that, they had to clear the air between them. It would require picking at old wounds so they could heal properly. The death of the back was a rugged, festering scar on both of them. Solving Danika’s murder started the long journey towards healing and it couldn’t be stopped now.

Ithan was a big part of this.

“Would you like me to stay with you, Sweetheart?” Hunt mumbles into her hair.

Bryce knew he would stay if she asked. Bear the awkwardness of this conversation silently, acting as a welcomed voyeur to this mending of a relationship. Her and Ithan needed the safety of privacy to work this our, though.

She leans up and presses a kiss to the high arch of his cheek. “You don’t need to hand around. It’s just a talk.”

Hunt looks decidedly concerned, but doesn’t contradict her choice. “Let me know when you are through. We can go out for dinner tonight.”

Bryce wrinkles her nose, “Where we can get harassed by paparazzi and journalists? I don’t like having my picture taken when I’m trying to shove noodles into my mouth.”

“Oh, Sweetheart,” he brushes a piece of hair back from her face, “they won’t be bothering us tonight. I’ll make sure of it.” There’s a lightness to Hunt’s posture and a wicked gleam in his eyes now. Freedom looked good on him, and he was thriving.

Bryce felt the strange new magic inside of her twist. It was almost as attracted to Hunt as she was, and it always answered his call to playfulness and mischief. The kind of trouble Bryce herself was always drawn to.

Kindred souls, mirrors, whatever you wanted to call them, there was an unmistakable bond between them. One, that when Ember finally comes to visit with assuage her worries about her only daughter being with a Vanir male.

That was saying something.

Bryce looks through the glass windows of the bar where Ithan sits. He hasn’t seemed to notice her presence yet, the weight of what they were about to do was probably distracting him as well.

“Call me when you finish,” are Hunt’s final words before he takes off above the city streets.

Bryce looks at Ithan for a moment longer, and counts to three before walking inside.

As was typical these days, the minute she steps through the doors, heads turn. A couple of men even pull out their phone to snap picture, but Bryce flips them off and ruins their shots.

Or maybe they will sell it to CC Weekly and title it Princess Unhinged Again.

Ithan turns and glares at some of the offenders, and a few even have the common sense to turn away. Pissing off the new lead of the Aux packs wasn’t high on anyone’s to do lists.

Bryce was glad for Amelie’s decision to step down. She took it upon herself to decide that someone who didn’t have the dominance to oppose Sabine in her rash decisions should be her second. It was also becoming more apparent to the other packs that Ithan was built to be an alpha male, and Amelie was doing a piss poor job of maintaining control.

Ithan’s eyes catch Bryce’s, and instead of angry, he seems almost sorrowful. She pulls out the barstool next to his and orders a beer, looks at Ithan, then orders another for him as well.

Step one, they both would need alcohol for this.

“I’m not going to lie, Bryce.” He says looking up at the TV playing Sunball reruns on the screen and keeps his gaze fully locked there. “I’m really freaking uncomfortable.”

“Yeah, it is.” She agrees, “but it shouldn’t be, and that’s why we are doing this.”

“He was my brother.” Ithan chokes out and Bryce feels a tear in her heart. “You hurt him really bad and then he died.”

“I know,” Bryce swallows.

“He loved you.” There are tears dripping down Ithan’s cheeks and makes no move to wipe them. “You didn’t love him, but you lead him on and made him think he had a chance.”

Bryce wanted to retort, but she knew Ithan needed to express these feelings. He’d harbored them for so long they needed to be said aloud before they could be dealt with.

“He died and you wouldn’t even talk to me,” Ithan looks at her in betrayal.

She has to dab at her eyes with the sleeves of her shirt. Ithan looked so lost. So different from the vibrant puppy who played college sports and squished next to her on the couch. Bryce felt responsible for that loss of innocence even if she hadn’t been the one to kill Conner.

“I’m sorry,” she says, through the lump in her throat. “I know that doesn’t mean much but I am. You should know that I did love him.”

Ithan scoffs, and shakes his head at those words. “Sure you did.”

“I did.” Bryce hisses leaning forward, but catches herself and sits back in her chair. “You don’t get to tell me what I felt. I was young, stupid, and scared about what a relationship would mean.”

A sigh escapes her and she leans her face into her hands. “You know my baggage with Vanir males. I won’t go into that again. Conner was an intense person. I know how he felt about me but I wasn’t ready, yet.”

She looks Ithan in the eye, pleading for him to understand. “I wasn’t ready then.”

Her and Conner had just taken the first baby step in a relationship that night. They hadn’t made any commitments to each other, and while the wolves may see things differently Conner wasn’t expecting her to dive head first.

If they’d had more time, there would have been more baby steps. More progress. Bryce would have had time to mature and for Conner to be sure he was making the right choice not searching for a mate. They might have become something.

But they never got the chance.

“I couldn’t even look at myself in a mirror, there was no way I could have faced you.” Bryce confesses weakly. “If I could change the choices I made that night, I would. Without hesitation, but that’s a useless thought to entertain.”

All she could do was live with the choices she made. The past couldn’t be erased, and with Hunt, she was finally learning to embrace the future.

Connor sniffles and takes a long drink of the beer in front of him. “It wasn’t your fault, Bryce.”

Shock ran its cold fingers up her spine, and Bryce couldn’t keep the surprise from her face.

“You messed up. Don’t get me wrong, it was hard to forgive you for that,” Ithan says and Bryce cringes a little. “But I should never have let you go in believing you were to blame for them dying.”

“Ithan-“ the tremble in Bryce’s voice sends more tears to her eyes and she dabs them with a bar napkin. “Ithan I-“

“No,” he stops her short. “They were family too. You were in the right place at the right time and it spared your life. There was nothing you could have done, and I’m glad you aren’t dead. I would miss you.”

Ithan shudders and takes a gasping breath, and it breaks Bryce as well. She reaches over and wraps her arms around him, while Ithan squeezes her waisted as if he were afraid she’d disappear.

Several moments pass with them like this. Bryce knows a few people have snapped photos, but there isn’t any more room for anger. Not with the relief flooding through her veins, chilling that hot white pain she’d carried for so long.

“I forgive you Bryce,” Ithan whispers in her ear.

Bryce sobs, “I missed you too Ithan.”

They both pull away, wiping their faces and taking drinks of their beers to calm down. A cheer comes from the TV screen as a goal is scored, and a bowl of peanuts had been set in front of them at some point.

“Can we start over? Bryce asks hesitantly. “Is there a chance we could be friends again?”

Juniper was busy and Fury was gone on another mission. With Hunt and Ruhn active in her life again she was a lot less lonely, but there was still a gap where the pack had been. Where Ithan used to be.

Ithan takes a moment to think. “No,” he says, breathing out and taking a drink of beer. He rolls a peanut shell between his meat-stick finger. “I don’t think so.”

“Oh,” Bryce said. That didn’t feel like a knife in her gut at all.

“No,” Ithan continues. “Because we are family. We’ve always been family.”

Bryce beams from ear to ear, she honestly may even be glowing a bit. “I like the sounds of that.”

They drink beer, and soon talk becomes easier. Ithan fills her in on the years she missed, Bryce talks about the dance classes she’s taking again. They even talk about the night the she shut the gates, and the backlash that’s followed.

Time passes, and before she realizes it, Bryce is late to meet with Hunt.

“Shit,” Bryce starts gathering her things and lays a few bronze marks on the table. “I’ve got to go.”

“Hot date with your Angel?” Ithan asks and Bryce blushes and turns away, feeling slightly ashamed to acknowledge her new boyfriend in front of Conner’s brother.

Ithan touches her shoulder, “Conner would have liked Hunt for you.”

Bryce had texted Hunt, and she can see him land on the sidewalk outside of the bar, but her attention is still focused on Ithan.

“They didn’t know each other very well when he was alive,” Ithan acknowledges, “but if my brother saw how happy Hunt makes you, it wouldn’t have mattered. At the end of the day, he would just want you to be happy.”

Bryce grabs his hand and squeezes it. “He would be proud of you Ithan.”

“I know,” he smiles. “Now get going, I have to report for my Aux shift soon anyways. We should meet up again sometimes.”

They bid their goodbyes and Bryce feels a million times lighter as she walks out of the bar. Hunt sweeps her into his arms and they take off over the streets of Lunathion.

“How did it go?” He asks.

“Really well,” Bryce tells him l about their conversation and the bridges they mended. Hunt listens without judgement or interruption.

He lands in vacant side street close to the Old Square. A food cart serving spicy wraps, pita bread and hummus is just down the block. “I figured we could get some food and have a picnic?”

“A picnic?” Bryce smiles. “I like the sound of that.”

They’d made a bucket list of things ordinary people did in the city that Hunt has yet to try, and they attempt to knock a few off each week. Bryce took photos, and Hunt would get them developed after work. Soon a whole wall of their apartment was now decorated with photos of the two of them having fun.

A picnic was on their list, but near the bottom. It didn’t seem like the kind of thing Hunt would be super interested in.

Yet here they were.

It turns out, he’d even packed an old blanket in his backpack. When they finished eating Hunt and Bryce laid out under the stars, not speaking but just content in each other’s presence.

Her phone dings.

A text bubble from Ithan appears, quickly followed by another.

I hope you and Hunt are having fun. Conner isn’t the only one happy for you. I’m glad you’ve found someone.

It’s time

Bryce’s heart is warned further, and she sets her phone back down on the blanket beside her. She would call Ithan in the morning. Right now, Hunt’s wing was draping over her and the softness of it could put her to sleep.

Everyone was moving on, but instead of bitter and sad, there was hope. Their loved ones may be gone, but they weren’t forgotten. The pack would always be in her and Ithan’s heart, and where love endured so would their memories.

“You didn’t tell me your mother is coming next week,” Hunt whispers as Bryce’s eyes droop.

“I wasn’t about to give you time to prepare yourself,” Bryce smiles into his neck. “It’s better if you just jump in feet first with her.”

“Menace,” he hisses. “A pretty menace, but a pain in my ass at the same time.”

“We can face her together,” Bryce yawns.

“Go to sleep,” Hunt encourages. “I’ve got you, Sweetheart. Like I said earlier, no one is going to bug you when I’m around.”

So, under the night sky, wrapped in a velvet wind, her and Hunt fall asleep, looking forward to tomorrow at last.

The conversion at the end of HoEaB I feel we desperately needed 😂

Taglist- (let me know if you would like to be added or removed :D)

@cursebreaker29

@firestarsandseneschals

@royalsqueeze

@julemmaes

@tillyrubes10

@live-the-fangirl-life

@ghostlyrose2

[mysingularitybts]

Will You Marry Me? || M. YG

Pairing: Min Yoongi x OC

Genre: Idol!au, romance

Warnings: none

Word Count: ~2.5k

The sun was barely peeking out from the horizon, it was too early and yet here I was waking up. It was automatic no matter how many hours I slept I was bound to rise with the sun. I laid on the bed, stretching my tense muscles, waiting for my brain to turn on. Relaxing and sinking on the bed again, I carefully peeled the bed sheets beside me to reveal my boyfriend's face. He had the bed sheet's imprinted all over his puffy face. It all made him look even cuter than he usually is.

I debated if I should wake him or not, but knowing he was going to wake up soon I got closer to him brushing his hair away from his face and proceeding to kiss all over his face. Feeling the soft pecks his eyes slowly blinked in an attempt to get rid of the sleepiness.

"Merry Christmas Yoongi," I whispered halting my attack.

Yoongi took his time stretching, yawning, and scrunching his face before responding a soft, "Merry Christmas, Yun."

Laying on his back, he opened his arms, knowing I'd want to cuddle him before we had to get up. It was a habit we had to talk about how we were feeling that day and about our plans for the day. There wasn't much to do today it was Christmas after all, the only things allowed to do was be lazy and open presents.

Alluring me to stay in bed for longer Yoongi kissed my lips very well knowing he was my weakness. It felt like we spent hours whispering sweet nothings as if scared someone would hear when in reality, we were the only ones in the whole apartment. Yoongi's hands almost lulled me to sleep again as he caressed my hair.

"Remember, we're going over to Hobi's for the Christmas party," Yoongi told me in between kisses.

"Stop thinking about Hobi while I kiss you," I laughed, pulling away, "He's not the one marrying you."

"From what I recall, I'm not marrying you either," he quickly responded, eyes narrowing in question and lips forming its natural pout.

He had a point, but it's only because he hasn't asked! We've talked about marriage before and it's something we both want to do we just don't know when. I know I'm ready to take the next step we've been in this relationship for about five years, we live together, we're basically a married couple already and that's fine I'm happy with what we have. But I would love to marry him officially, have a ceremony, say our vows to each other, and most importantly, call him my husband, the love of my life.

Sitting up on the bed, I straddled him, holding his shoulders and getting close to his face and asked, "Min Yoongi, will you marry me?"

Yoongi's eyes widened for a second before going back to their natural shape, "No."

"Why do you keep saying no?" I whined, slumping down in his chest.

Yup, it wasn't the first time I had asked. In fact, it's been a month since I first asked, and he keeps saying no. Every time he'd say dumb excuses as to why he wouldn't marry me by now it was more like a joke to see what silly thing he'd come up with.

"I'm too young to get married," he explained with a whine while grabbing hold of my thighs and flipping us over.

"Yoongs you're 29," I said, rolling my eyes.

"Exactly, I'm a baby!" he exclaimed, burying his head on my neck.

"At what age will you consider saying yes?" I sighed, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.

"35," he said, the sound coming out muffled.

"That's a long time by then we would have been dating for ten years," I grabbed his shoulders and pushed him back to look at his face.

"So?" Yoongi shrugged his shoulders.

"I'm gonna keep asking in between in case you change your mind."

After an hour of waking up I finally stood from the bed and went into the kitchen to get breakfast started. I turned on the coffee maker first and prepared our preferred cups to pour it in. Just as I placed Yoongi's cup on the counter, he emerged from the room with a new set of pajamas and damp hair.

"You should dry your hair don't want you getting sick," I mentioned over my shoulder while whisking together the ingredients to make pancake batter.

Cold hands landing on my hips made me jump, "Yoongs your hands are freezing."

"Sorry," he lightly chuckled behind me, "In that case you should put on a pair of pants too."

"You should know by now I'm a rebel I do what I want," I sassily said, turning to look at him.

Yoongi was looking at me with a blank face, "You forgot to do laundry, didn't you?"

"Yes," I admitted with a sheepish smile.

"Alright, let me get my coffee and I'll dry it," he sighed letting go of me.

I thought I was alone when I felt a harsh sting to my backside, "Ow Yoongi that hurt!"

"That's not what you said the other day," he yelled from the hallway.

"Yoongi!" I swear this man is so inappropriate sometimes.

After breakfast we stayed in the living room and exchanged our Christmas gifts. It was honestly a very relaxing morning between the two of us and I couldn't be happier. We watched old Christmas movies and drank hot chocolate to get even more into the Christmas spirit. Somewhere in the early afternoon we crashed and napped on the sofa while 'Home Alone' played in the background.

"Yun...Yun...Yun," I heard Yoongi's soothing voice calling me and shaking my arm.

"Five more minutes," I mumbled, hiding my face in one of the cushions.

"Come on, wake up we have to get ready for Hobi's party," he said, rubbing my arm soothingly.

"On one condition," I pouted, lifting my head.

"What's that?"

"Marry me?" I asked, a smile sneaking past my lips.

"Ugh, I can't, I already promised this girl in a fan meet," he groaned, pulling me by my arms so I'd sit up.

A girl can only try. I don't want to be that girl who keeps insisting her boyfriend to marry her, but like I love this man so much I want to make it official! If he would've told me in the beginning, he didn't believe in marriage, I would've prepared myself and accepted it. Sometimes it makes me question if he isn't sure about us, luckily, I know him well enough to know he loves me just as much as I love him. I mean marriage is a huge step, and between my job and his career as an idol it can get tough. I understand he wants to have a more stable life before taking this step and possibly starting a family.

Feeling well rested, I got ready for tonight's party. Yoongi has been telling me about this party for the past month apparently Hoseok wanted everyone there because he has a surprise for everyone, I think he's finally going to introduce us to his girlfriend.

With my make up done and my hair curled I put on my red dress I bought it solely for this occasion. Yoongi helped me pick it out in the store there were so many good choices and at the end, I was in between two dresses. I had no choice but to ask for his help. With one long glance at each he ended up picking with the red one, he made a good decision because I looked stunning in this color.

"Yoongi are you ready?" I yelled while slipping into my heels.

He was in the other room because he insists I kicked him out of ours and that is a lie. I simply told him to get out of the way because he was hogging the mirror and I needed to do my makeup. The mirror he was using has the best lighting.

"Yes," he muttered, stepping into the room. He stopped in his tracks taking in how I looked, "You look beautiful."

"Beautiful enough to marry me?" I jested, shooting him a flirty smile.

"More like too beautiful for me to marry you," he grinned, walking over and pecking my lips.

"Don't be acting cute," I pouted, melting at his words, "I love you."

"I love you too Yun," he murmured, kissing me again.

When he pulled away, he had red all over his lips. Giggling, I grabbed a makeup wipe from my makeup bag and brought it up to his lips to wipe off any lipstick.

"There we go perfect once again."

Thanking me he grabbed my hand and off we went to Hobi's house. He didn't even let go of it on the drive. I'd spontaneously squeeze his hand tightly to see if it bothered him, but due to my lack of strength, he barely felt it, in turn he squeezed mine making me wince.

"Ow, stop hurting me," I whined, tapping on his hand so he'd let go.

"I barely did anything besides you wanted to hurt me first," he argued yet his hand was still on mine and I didn't dare let go.

"No, I wasn't," I defended myself, "It was an experiment to test my strength."

"In that case you have the strength of a toddler," Yoongi deadpanned.

"I know," I huffed, there was no denying that fact.

Once parked in front of Hoseok's house Yoongi opened the door for me and together we went to the front door. Hoseok opened the door with a huge smile and ushered us in.

"Sooyun, it's been so long I missed you!" he cheerfully said, pulling me into a hug.

"Yesterday was so long ago, my sunshine, the sky was so glum without you," I laughed as he rocked us side to side.

"I'm so glad you're here I want to introduce you to someone," Hobi excitedly said, dragging me with me. Before he pulled me away, I grabbed Yoongi's hand, so he'd follow us.

I was right Hobi wanted us to meet his girlfriend, Soojin. She was really sweet and nice I could totally see why Hobi likes her. We talked for a long while getting to know each other from my peripheral I saw Hobi constantly looking over in our direction and smiling happily that we got along. It was cute how he wanted us all to get along.

The night was filled with drinks, food, and lively chatter. Not soon after Yoongi and I got there the rest of the boys started filing in with their significant others. Something I didn't know was that the boys did a secret Santa amongst themselves, so it was a real treat seeing them exchange gifts and sweet words.

It was 2 am when we left the party. Hoseok and Taehyung were still hyped up, I just know they were going to collapse soon.

"Did you have fun?" Yoongi asked, briefly looking in my direction. We were in the car on our way home, music playing on the speakers at a low volume.

"I did, I'm exhausted though. I can't keep up with Hobi," I chuckled lightly, shaking my head.

"Tell me about it," he agreed.

"I can't wait to get to bed," I told him, kissing the back of his hand.

"We're almost there," he gently squeezed my hand, "Can you get my phone from my jacket pocket?"

"Sure," I nodded, turning in my seat to get the jacket he threw to the back seat.

After grabbing it from the back, I straightened in the seat and searched through the many pockets of the jacket. In the last pocket where the phone was supposed to be I found a small black velvet box. Opening it there was a beautiful diamond ring staring back at me. It had everything I've ever wanted on a ring it was much like the ones I had saved on my Pinterest page.

"Yoongi..." I barely spoke above a whisper.

Why was this in his pocket? Did it mean what I thought it meant? Did I ruin a surprise?

"What?" He asked with a side smile.

"What is this?"

"A ring for you," he answered nonchalantly.

"For what?" I insisted, determined to find the answer I wanted.

"To marry me," Yoongi lovingly added.

"Don't joke with me Yoongi," I pleaded, hoping this wasn't some sick joke.

"I'm not, I'm serious," he insisted.

"Wh-what? Pull the car over," I ordered him, I needed for him to tell me this was real, eye to eye.

"Okay," Nodding, he pulled into a fast-food parking lot.

"This is serious? This isn't because I keep asking, right? If you don't want to marry me, that's fine and I'll understand. You don't have to feel forced to do this," I felt guilty a part of me couldn't help but think this was because I kept asking him. It started with me being serious, but it's more of a joke now. Of course, I want to marry him that much remains true, but not if he doesn't want to.

"Yun, I'm as serious as can be. I've been thinking about it for a while now," he admitted, taking his seatbelt off and turning in his seat, "I wanted to surprise you and I know that if I did anything overly romantic besides our dates, you'd be on to me," he finished explaining.

"Oh." My mind was processing everything that happened in the last 5 minutes. The thing that I wanted most was happening and I couldn't believe it. The love of my life asked me (kind of) to marry him and I said 'Oh.' Way to go Sooyun.

"So, what do you say? Will you marry me? Spend the rest of our lives together until we're old and gray?" he asked, a nervous look in his handsome face.

Tears streamed down my face and with a vigorous nod I accepted his proposal, "I will."

"Don't cry or I'll take it back," he jokingly threatened, taking the ring out of the box and slipping it on my ring finger.

"I love you," I sobbed despite his words.

"I love you too," he warmly replied, cupping my cheeks and kissing my waiting lips.

"Let's get home so I can kiss you and hug you properly," I told him after our kiss.

"Your wish is my command," he chuckled, pulling out of the parking lot.

And that is how my wonderful boyfriend now fiancé proposed in front of a McDonald's, not very romantic yet surprising and I wouldn't have it any other way. I loved this man, and it didn't matter if he proposed with a ring pop because I would've agreed in a heartbeat. I'm sure there was a long time to go until we had the ceremony but this was enough for me.