#now excuse me while I go dissolve into a bundle of nerves

[littlecello]

✨ PRE-ORDERS for "STREET LIFE - a LIFE ON MARS fanbook" are officially OPEN! ✨

• A4/8.3" x 11.7" size, perfect-bound

• 60+ full-colour pages

• features my LoM art spanning the last 6 years and includes 12 exclusive illustrations created specifically for the book!

• also features 8 FABULOUS GUEST ARTISTS: @grrrenadine, @anticmiscellaney, @asparklethatisblue, @dreki, @basaltgrrl, @halorvic, @ferntrees-art and thispuppyflies

• available in two versions: PINT OF BITTER (book only) and PARTY SEVEN BUNDLE (book plus EXTRAS!)

• those extras are: ONE Bookmark, a set of TWO postcards, and a set of THREE stickers (more info in the shop)!

• all books and bundles will ship from JANUARY 4th 2021!

• pre-orders are LIMITED so get yours while you can! A limited number of copies will also go on regular sale in early January, but if you want to ensure you get a copy, I'd recommend going for it straight away~ (also you'll be able to buy the stationery extras on their own from early January, but for a slightly higher price 👀)

• everything will ship from the UK, and... WORLD-WIDE SHIPPING IS AVAILABLE! 💌

Head on over to my Etsy shop for all the details and to grab your copy!

@zine-scene, @zinefeed, @fandomzines, @zineforall

[therenlover]

Red Nights In Jupiter (A Jimmy Darling/Reader Oneshot)

Synopsis: At the end of another long day, you fall into bed with Jimmy Darling. The men you served throughout the day don’t matter then, nor do the coins in the mason jar by the door, or the women scheduled to attend Jimmy’s next Tupperware party. No, in that quiet darkness it’s just you and the man you love, bone-tired and happy to be home. Who could ask for more?

Tags: Cuddling, Prostitution, Wound Care, Hurt/Comfort, Referenced Past Non-Con (it’s not Jimmy, don’t worry), Implied Sexual Content/Innuendo

Rating: 16+

Warnings*: Mentioned Police Officer Abusing Their Power, Referenced Non-Con, Jimmy Drinks A Beer, Non-Graphic Wound Care 

Word Count: 3000~

* - This fic includes a reader who is a prostitute and has recently been taken advantage of by a police officer in exchange for not going to jail. There are no graphic scenes and it's mentioned only a couple of times in passing, but the ending portion of the fic is Jimmy helping the reader recover from wounds (just bruises/scratches) they got during the incident. If this is potentially triggering, please steer clear!

This fic has been crossposted under the same title to my AO3!

--------

“How did the show go tonight?” You mumbled, mouth full of toothpaste.

“It wasn’t anything special,” Jimmy responded as you spit, “some dumb kids snuck in a couple of rotten tomatoes but their aim was shit. Nobody got hit, so I’ll consider it a success,”

The two of you stood shoulder to shoulder over the tiny kitchen sink in his trailer, clumsily going through the motions to wind down from an exhausting day. Outside the sky was a deep red. The last of the sun’s dying light shimmered over the ferris wheel as it made its last run, cutting through the muggy Jupiter air. In the last weeks of July, everything was sweltering. Even the walls of the little trailer were hot enough to leave a burn in the full heat of the noontime sun. Thankfully for you, as the sun receded so did the worst of the scalding heat, leaving behind a hot, wet, and thick fog over the nighttime landscape.

Jimmy finished washing his face while you rinsed your toothbrush. “Elsa and I were thinking that maybe, in the next couple ‘a years, we should invest in another ride. Not a ‘coaster, nothing huge, just something other than the ferris wheel that would keep the kids busy while their parents watch the show,” As he spoke, he wet a washcloth under the tap before wringing it out and tossing it over his shoulders. “What do you think, doll?”

“I think-” you held your tongue, your biting reply dissolving into bitter acid in your mouth, “I think that if that’s what’s best for the show, we should start investing sooner rather than later. It’s always best to be prepared so we can figure it into the budget ASAP,” With a practiced hand you bundled up your toiletries and tucked them away in the drawer. The shake in your tired digits was barely perceptible in the dimly lit room. What was best for the troupe was what was best for you. Still, you couldn’t help but sneak a gaze at the half-full mason jar sitting on the counter by the door.

“You sure?” Jimmy asked. He was down in the mini-fridge now, pulling out a can of some cheap beer. You closed your eyes and offered a curt nod. There was no need to argue over an impossible dream. If Elsa wanted a new ride, she would get a new ride.

“I’m sure, Jimmy. I’m just tired,”

Thankfully, he accepted your excuse with a shrug, settling in at the pull-down table. “Whatever you say, sweet thing,” he cooed, “now get over here. I missed you today,”

You gave in to his request easily. After everything you’d been through over the last 12 hours, you weren’t about to turn down a little affection and attention from the man you loved. Your sunburnt shoulders stung as you clambered into Jimmy’s arms and allowed your face to settle into his sweet, sweaty embrace. His heart thudded under your ear, a steady quarter-note rhythm guiding your own soaring staccato down to normalcy.

Somewhere out in the field, probably in one of the other rusted-out trailers where your friends were settling down in their own nighttime routines, a radio buzzed to life. The sweet sounds of Paul Anka crooning his newest hit loosened your nerves. Over your shoulder, Jimmy took a long swig from his can.

“How was work?” you whispered. Jimmy set down his drink with a little more force than usual. One of his fused hands found its way into his hair. You both knew you weren’t asking about the show.

“I didn’t make much today, but I’m almost fully booked for Thursday. That’s the last party until next week unless the ladies want to throw something after church on Sunday. Wednesday we don’t have a show, so I’m all yours,”

His voice was tired, a departure from his usual confidence. This wasn’t Jimmy Darling the leader and performer, it was your Jimmy boy, the man who held your broken heart together with his unusual hands. You relished in the vulnerability, letting yourself nuzzle closer to his skin. He smelled like sweat and grease and cheap cologne but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. It was him. That’s what mattered.

“I could take Wednesday off, Wednesday is never that busy,” you mused.

“Then we’ll go out on Wednesday,” Jimmy was jovial but not loud, dropping his hand down from his hair to rub abstract patterns into your back above the starchy cotton of your day dress, “I’ll take us down to the beach on my bike and we can have a picnic lunch by the ocean. I know a spot off the road that nobody would ever think to go to, it’s like a private beach we’ll have all to ourselves, and the guy at the deli owes me a favor so I can pick up sandwich stuff for cheap when I run in tomorrow. Maybe I’ll even spend a little extra a grab a bottle of that white wine you like. How does that sound, doll face?”

You hummed out an affirmative, far too deep into your newfound relaxation to form words. Your boneless, half-lucid state made Jimmy laugh. His smile only fell when he found a fresh bruise on your back, making you wince.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” he asked, pulling his hand away. You whined at the loss of contact. It was rare for you to have the time to wind down together these days, every second of attention was something to cherish.

“It’s just a bad bruise,”

In an instant, Jimmy had you straddling his lap to face him with your face in his large hands. “Did somebody hurt you?” he asked, running a thumb over your cheek to check for concealer or any small cuts and bruises he might have missed, “‘cause if somebody hit my girl I’m gonna have to show them what’s what. I don’t care if they paid, they don’t get to do that shit to you,”

You couldn’t help but avert your eyes, letting your gaze linger on the veins bulging in Jimmy’s neck instead of his face. It would be too difficult to risk seeing the disappointment in his eyes. “It was a cop, Jimmy. I got busted,”

He groaned. “Those bastards…”

“Thankfully this time he just took what he wanted and let me off with a warning. He’ll be back, though, they always are. I’m sorry, Jimmy, I’m just so tired,” A shudder wracked your shoulders, a silent sob you couldn’t quite choke down. You had to take a minute to remind yourself that you were safe. Jimmy had you. You were tucked away from the world in his arms, and he’d kill someone before he let them do anything to hurt you. Nothing and no one could touch you as long as he was there. When he wasn’t, though…

You gripped his thin, white undershirt a little tighter.

Jimmy was with you, not some stranger who had picked you up off the streets for a little fun. You were at home in your caravan with Jimmy and he was holding you and nothing else mattered. There was no reason to be afraid.

He gritted his teeth. Obviously, your distress wasn’t as invisible as you wished it was. “Don't be sorry, doll, this isn't your fault. You know what? You don’t have to go back out there. There are plenty of other ways we can make the money, sweetheart, just say the word and I’ll make it happen. You never have to deal with them again,”

“But the new ride-”

“To hell with the new ride!” Jimmy was shouting in earnest now, but you weren’t afraid, pushing yourself further into his touch. Part of you liked watching him come to your defense. It was something he would only do for someone he loved, someone who was a part of his family, not just any horny housewife that used him to chase their own desires. “Your safety is so much more important than a new ride a couple years down the line! I’ll go tell Elsa to scrap the idea right now if that means you feel better. You’re the most important thing to me, Y/N. You say jump and I say how high. I’m not gonna force you to do anything, if you choose to keep working I have no right to stand up all high and mighty and tell you not to, but if you do wanna stop… I guess what I’m sayin’ is that I want you to be happy, and if I have to pick up the slack for you to do that then so be it,”

You were cradled against his chest again by the end of his schpiel. Your anxiety wasn’t quite as bad as it had been before, and the newly fallen darkness added a sort of buffer to your feelings. Everything was fuzzier in the dark. In that place past dusk where the problems of the word lost their sharp edges you let yourself abandon everything that scared you during the day. Children were afraid of the things they couldn’t see by moonlight but you relished in the anonymity of the night. Life was much scarier by the light of the sun.

“Thank you, Jimmy, I mean it,” you murmured, pressing a soft kiss to his palm before pulling away from his touch, “but we both know I can’t quit,”

“But doll, I-”

“No buts. I bring in more in a week than the troupe makes in a month, not to mention that I get half the essentials for the mess tent at a discount from customers who are sweet on me. Someday, and that day can’t come soon enough, we’ll have enough saved up to get out of here, but until then we both just have to do whatever we can to make that future a reality,”

Jimmy nodded, draining the last warm dregs from his beer and tossing the empty can into the trash. “I just hate thinkin’ about you standing out there alone while those assholes look at you like a piece of meat,”

“I get by well enough,”

“I know you do, but you can’t blame me for worrying,” In a moment of drowsy bliss, you let a soft yawn escape your lips. Jimmy grinned. “Are you fallin’ asleep on me?”

You offered him a loose, gummy smile. “Maybe a little,”

He was quick to sweep a well-muscled arm up under your knees, lifting you up bridal style. You let out a small shriek of surprise. Jimmy didn’t let that distract him, though, as he carried your wriggling form over to your shared bed before setting you down with a low chuckle. “Now dollface,” he said, pulling off his sweat-damp undershirt and the washcloth that had been resting on his shoulders, “you up for a little bit of the Jimmy Darlin’ magic tonight, or would you rather just cuddle?”

“Can we just cuddle tonight? I’m still sore as hell. That asshole cop had me up against a brick wall and didn’t exactly take the time to lighten up his grip when I started to bruise,”

Jimmy nodded. “I tell you what,” he said, running a fused digit over the top button of your dress, “first let’s get that dress off you, then I can rub on some of that arnica gel we got as a gift from the new girl last month, alright? She said it helps with bruises. Once you’re all taken care of, then we can cuddle,”

“That sounds heavenly,” You smiled up at Jimmy as you unbuttoned the front of your dress, easily sliding out and discarding it as he changed out of his work jeans and into some thin cotton pajama pants. Your bra came off last, and much to your surprise your beau didn’t spend much time ogling you, instead turning quickly to go recover the ointment from the shelf in the bathroom.

From your viewpoint on the bed, Jimmy looked like Adonis. He was always handsome, sure, but you loved how the moonlight hit his bare back, revealing each plane of thick, workers muscle as it caressed his skin. As your eyes fluttered closed, you could almost feel the ghost of his body above yours. The radio across the field was still droning on outside the window. In your bed, watching Jimmy putter around the trailer and listening to the fuzzy music that drifted in from the outside, you felt complete for the first time in a long time. There was only one thing left to do that could make you feel better.

“Jimmy,” you asked, “tell me about the future?”

He turned to you with a sigh, the glass jar of arnica gel in hand, “Doll, I’m no Dr. Seuss...”

“Pleeeease, Jimmy,” you whined, “for me?”

It didn’t take anything more for Jimmy to give in. “How could I ever say no when you ask so nicely,” He sat down at your side on the bed, nudging you to roll onto your stomach and give him access to your bruised and scraped back. As he began his gentle probing of your wounds, he started to talk.

“Once we save up enough money,” he whispered, scooping up some gel from the jar before rubbing it into a particularly tender purple spot, “we’re gonna get out of here. You and Ma and me will find a nice little house somewhere with some land, and we’ll be happy there. When we get there, I’ll find a job somewhere where people won’t gawk at me. I can work construction or grow produce in the yard, and you… you, doll, will finally get to rest. You can stay home with Ma, cook, sew, read; you’ll never have to sell yourself on the streets again,”

You squirmed under his touch. “Now tell me about the kids,”

Jimmy groaned. “Really?”

“They’re the best part!”

“Alright, alright, because you won’t stop buggin’ me I’ll talk about the kids, but next time I’m down and out after a fight you’d better return the favor. I expect you to talk my ear off about all the sinful things I wanna hear while you’re busy holding a steak to my eye,”

You grinned. “Since when have I ever let you down, Mr. Darling?”

“Not once, sweet thing,” he pressed a soft kiss to the back of your head before going back to focusing on your flesh, now doing more of a massage on the less marred areas than anything else. “Now where were we?”

“The kids, Jimmy,”

“Oh right, the kids!” You let your eyes drift closed as he spoke, relishing in the feeling of his hands against your skin. Every moment in his arms was heaven. It was a real shame the rest of society didn’t see him the way you did, but it kept any potential competition away, and for that you were grateful. Life without Jimmy would be like baking with no sugar; just plain wrong. “Once we have our own place and the money is coming in, I won’t have to waste my pocket change on rubbers anymore. I’ll get you nice and pregnant and then, after nine months of getting looked after by yours truly, you’ll finally have your own little Darling, yours an’ mine. Won’t that be a sight? A little Jimmy Jr. runnin’ around in the yard, absolutely spoiled rotten by his grandma. I dunno much about bein’ a good dad, but I sure as hell know what not to do. No matter what the child ends up looking like, I’ll be there every step of the way. Who knows, if you and I get real busy we may have a whole brood of Darling children before long,”

You wanted to offer up some sort of placation, a witty reply, but you found that your tongue was too heavy and your eyes were drooping lower by the second. It was cooler now that the moon had started her ascent into the night sky, cool enough to stay comfortable with the little air conditioning unit in the window running full blast. Suddenly, the bed shifted next to you as Jimmy screwed the top back onto the jar and got up to return it to its shelf.

“Hey, Jimmy?” you called, voice thick with exhaustion. He was quick to respond, slotting the jar into its place and stepping out of the dimly lit bathroom to check on you.

“You alright?”

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine,” you said, rolling onto your back and getting comfortable on top of the sheets, “I just wanted to say I love you, so much,”

Jimmy was back at your side in an instant. “I love you too, doll. I dunno what I ever did to deserve you-”

“Oh stop!” your words were slurred now, dripping from your lips as you watched Jimmy climb into bed. You found your place at his side quickly. It was muscle memory to link your leg with his and set your head on his chest no matter how tired you were. "You're the most handsome, wonderful, perfect man I could have ever asked for Jimmy Darling, and don't you forget it!"

“It’s time for sleep now, doll,” he whispered, burying his face in your hair and wrapping his arms around you, “There’s plenty of time to talk about how wonderful you think I am in the morning,” The smile on his face was clear from the tone of his voice, but you heeded his words, quickly falling into a dreamless sleep while he protected you from the rest of the world.

Things weren’t perfect. You would still wake up the next day and watch the man you loved leave as both of you sold your very bodies in search of an impossible dream for the future, but that was okay. As long as Jimmy was by your side, everything would be.

--------

a/n: I hope you enjoyed this fic! I intended for it to be a short drabble where I could practice writing for jimmy, but in the end I’m really happy with how it turned out. This is, genuinely, something I’m really proud of, so please let me know if you liked it. Thank you so much for supporting me!!!

[duskholland]

If You Feel The Same | Harrison Osterfield

summary ↠ six months ago, you said goodbye to your best friend Harrison as he left to travel the world. now he’s back, and you don’t really know how to act. 

word count ↠ 3.7k

warnings ↠ drinking, swearing, bit of a steamy kiss

a/n ↠ I was intending to write a birthday fic for Harrison, but I couldn’t shake this idea out of my head, so instead you get a friends-turned-lovers non-birthday fic. lol. I haven’t written much for Harrison before but...I love him? and I really like how this turned out, so I hope you enjoy it too! please let me know if you have any thoughts :)

masterlist

There’s an atmosphere of comfortable warmth inside the pub tonight. You’re sitting with your thighs pressing against the slightly sticky booth, index finger slowly trailing around the rim of your half-drunk pint, and you’re glad for the background noises. You focus on the distant laughs and chatter coming from the other patrons, trying to relax as you wait. You’re the first one here, the others all running late, so you hadn’t hesitated to grab a beer and neck it fast. You feel so drawn in and anxious that you’re finding it hard to sit still, the beer taking the edge off, but not easing you enough. Every time the door swings open and you’re hit by a waft of freezing London air, you feel your hackles rise in anticipation. You’re absolutely shitting it, and whilst you know it’s uncalled for, the longer you have to wait, the more nervous you become.

You’ve made it to your second pint when you’re finally joined by your friends. The door swings open, and you recognise the four figures that walk in immediately, regardless of the fact that they’re all bundled up in an assortment of heavy jackets and woollen scarves. You raise a hand and Sam sees you first, pointing over to your table before walking across the pub, a large smile on his face.

“Y/N!” He greets, sliding into the booth beside you and pulling you into a hug. “Long time no see, eh?”

You laugh, your nerves vanishing as you look at your friend fondly. “I saw you two days ago, Sam,” you remind him, nudging his side discreetly.

“Still.” His eyes shift to your glass, then back to you. “Already getting on it?”

Your lips pull into a guilty grin. “Have to keep the nerves at bay somehow,” you murmur, earning a slightly disapproving smile from Sam. Before he can chime in with something unhelpful, you’re joined at the booth by his brothers Tom and Harry, and Harrison.

“Stop hogging her, dick,” Harry says, glaring playfully at his twin. “Some of us haven’t seen Y/N in six months.”

“Well maybe if some of you bothered to come home and visit us more often, this wouldn’t be a problem,” Sam chides, a playful edge to his voice. He stands from the booth and offers you a hand, pulling you up with him. You wobble to your feet, your head momentarily clouding over as you feel a little tipsy, all of a sudden, but you’re pulled back to earth as Harry hugs you tightly, his curly hair brushing against your neck. You can’t help but smile widely, your heart settling a little happier in your chest now you’re so near your friends again.

You’ve been best friends with Harry and Sam since you were all kids and you’d been assigned to the same table in primary school. Your relationship with them meant you’d quickly settled into an easy friendship with their older brother Tom, and his best friend, Harrison. Through it all - auditions, exams, the pains of growing up - you’d stuck it out together, and you’re proud to call the four guys standing around you your best friends. It doesn’t matter that three of them have just spent six months travelling around the world with Tom’s job, leaving behind you and Sam, because now you’re back together, finally able to sit down in your favourite pub, and you know everything will go back to normal.

Well… maybe not everything.

As Tom releases you from his arms and sits in the booth with Harry and Sam, you’re left standing in front of Harrison. Your gaze nervously wanders everywhere but his face, taking in his long, fitted coat and the silver signet ring that glints off his finger. He seems to have filled out over the past months, his shoulders wider and his stature fuller, and you find yourself concluding that he must have spent a considerable time in the gym.

By the time your eyes land on his face, you’ve got your lower lip pulled between your teeth, your breathing shallow as you try to calm down your racing heart. It’s like a thousand different emotions pass between you as you meet his icy blue eyes, his gaze shifting from one of amusement to a softer, more intense stare. His lips quirk into a warm smile and he opens his arms invitingly, and any plan you’d had to keep your distance goes straight out of the window as you collapse into his warm embrace.

“Haz,” you mutter, sighing contentedly as he holds you close. It doesn’t matter that his coat is covered in cool raindrops, nor that you know you’ve got three sets of prying eyes fixed on your entwined figures - all you can think of is Harrison. Harrison with his hands on your waist and his hot breath fanning over your forehead, and the scent of his rich, husky cologne.

“I missed you,” Harrison says, punctuating each of his slow words with a soft kiss to your forehead. The feeling of his lips on your skin dredges up all the memories you’d spent six months burying, and despite feeling so utterly comfortable with your face pressed up against his front, you force yourself to pull back.

You play with your fingers as you look at your friend carefully, his gaze mimicking yours. “Can’t believe it’s been six months,” you find yourself saying, earning a nod of agreement from the man. “You look good.”

He quirks an eyebrow, his lips twisting into a cocky smirk. “You too.”

Before your exchange can continue, you feel someone poke you, and crane your neck back to see Sam looking at you, a knowing smile on his face. “Can you guys go get the first round?”

“I’ve already got-” You break off as you see Tom draining the final drops of beer from your previously-full glass. “Knobhead,” you comment, earning a laugh from the man. “Been back two minutes and you’re already ruining my life.”

Tom just shrugs and pulls out his wallet. He slides you the plastic card and you raise an eyebrow. “Bigshot actor now, eh?” You tease, pocketing the card.

“Shut up,” he replies, cheeks tinting a healthy pink. “Harry’s getting the next round.”

As the table dissolves into a fit of squabbles, you feel Harrison’s arm go around your shoulders. You lean into his touch, smiling shyly to yourself as he leads you up and towards the bar. His hand slips down until he’s holding your waist, and it feels so perfect having his fingers curled up around your side that it makes you frown as you reach the bar and he separates from you. As you order the drinks, you exchange a few light words, his eyes on yours, his touch returning every few seconds as he nudges at your shoulder or pushes your hair from your face, and it’s so comfortable and familiar that it makes your heart twitch painfully every time he moves away.

The hours slowly slip away, spent away at the booth in the corner of the pub. Tom keeps you entertained as he recounts a few of his most bizarre tales from set, Harry or Harrison jumping in to add a few forgotten details every once in a while. Harrison’s sat beside you, his jacket hanging over the back of the booth, his hand resting comfortably on your knee. The touch keeps your mind anchored, stops you from spinning away in your tipsy thoughts as the temptation to recall that night keeps growing, growing. It isn’t until Harrison mutters a loud ‘is that what you really want’ to Tom that you succumb, and the memory passes behind your eyelids before you can stop it.

[-----]

It’s a hot August night. Suitcases are precariously stacked in the porch of Tom and Harrison’s house and you have to maneuver carefully to avoid pushing anything over as you walk inside. Music throbs through the house, growing louder as you push through groups of tipsy people, some you recognise, others you don’t. It’s a going away party, screams one of the banners that twirls up the staircase, and you feel your mood dampen as you’re reminded - again - that tomorrow, Tom, Harry and Harrison will be jetting away. You’ve seen their schedule, and you know there’s no way you’ll be able to get time off from uni, so this is the last night you’ll have together before they return. The last night you’ll have with him.

You spot Harrison across the room, his gaze already on you. It makes you smile shyly, your feet taking you off towards him before your mind has time to catch up. He excuses himself from his conversation before meeting you in the middle of the floor, his lips catching your cheek as he hugs you close.

“You look sad,” he comments immediately. You pull back from the hug and his hands slip to hold your waist, a bittersweet smile on your face.

“I am sad,” you admit, sucking on your lower lip as you ponder your words. “I’ll miss you a lot, Haz.” And you know you really will. You’ve never been away from any of the guys for as long as six months before, and Harrison has always lived a little closer to your heart than any of the others. And recently… Well, recently, maybe things between you have been getting a little more intense. Maybe sometimes he hugs you randomly, and sometimes you snuggle into his chest during film nights, and sometimes you let your fingers trace through his shaggy curls. Maybe you’ve grown fond of him - fonder than you should, given he’s been one of your best friends for years.

“I’ll miss you too, Y/N,” he says, eyes falling downcast. One of his hands shifts from your waist and tangles with yours, the wide pad of his thumb stroking over the back of your hand softly. “I… uh, I really-”

A sudden roll of laughter from a group beside you breaks his words, and you have to swallow back your irritation as you use your grip on his hand to pull him away from the noisy living room. Harrison follows you up the stairs, his arm brushing against yours as you reach the top and pull him into his room, the hubbub of the party below fading away until it’s just you and him, alone, in his messy bedroom.

“Sorry,” you say suddenly, realising what it must look like. “I couldn’t hear you down there.”

He laughs, the sound wonderful and deep and beautiful. He swings your joined hands together, bringing a grin to your face. “‘S okay. Don’t know why Tom invited so many people. You’re the only one I wanted to see before we left,” he says cryptically.

“Don’t let Sam hear you say that,” you tease.

“Well, Sam’s different.”

“How?”

“He’s… Sam.”

“And I’m Y/N?”

Harrison rolls his eyes, exasperation filtering out over his face as he sighs. “No. I mean, yes, but…” He steps nearer, the air between you suddenly shifting, darkening. “I don’t feel the same for you that I do for Sam, alright?”

Your eyebrows arch up your forehead. “So what exactly do you feel for me then, Haz?”

His tongue slips from his mouth, dancing dangerously over his lower lip as he brings his free hand up to your face, cupping your cheek delicately. Your heart is in your throat as his inviting, blue eyes peer into yours, an expression of curiosity fixed to the lines of his handsome face. You give him a small incline of a nod, and then his lips softly nudge against yours, meeting in a tentative burn of passion that you’ve been dreaming about for months.

It’s weird, to be kissing Harrison. It feels so perfect that it’s almost too good to be true. As you kiss him back, it grows in fervour, your hands looping up around his neck as you fist his curls in your fingers, letting his roam over your body. He holds you so firmly that it makes you feel like you're his, and if you could bask in that feeling forever, you know you would. Fuck, you’re so in love with him…

It gets heated quickly. One moment you’re standing in the centre of the room, swaying in his hold, the next you’re pushing him down on the bed and you’re straddling his lap. His hands dig into your waist, slipping up beneath your shirt and tracing over the hot skin of your back, your own fingers twirling around his necklace as you pant into his mouth. The whole situation is so dizzying and overwhelming that you have to take a break, and as you pull away from his mouth, you feel a sense of regret. He notices your hesitation, hands stilling and moving back to your waist, and he looks at you carefully. “What’s going on up there?” Harrison asks, bringing one, gentle finger up to tap at your forehead.

“You’re such an asshole,” you find yourself saying, tears suddenly pricking at your eyes. You push at his chest, anger replacing everything else. “You- I- You wait until the night before you’re flying away to do this?!”

Harrison’s face falls, guilt seizing his features. “I didn’t know…”

“Bullshit.” You’re angry now, your heart pulsing painfully. As you stare at your best friend, you bring your hands up and clench them into fists. “You knew how I felt.”

“And you knew how I felt,” he counters, his face irritated. “You waited as well, Y/N,” he says. “Don’t put this all on me.”

Your eyes screw shut as your nails dig into the skin of your palms, your breathing gradually slowing as his fingers trace softly across your waist. “I just…” You pause, finally unclenching your fists and dropping your forehead so it’s resting on his shoulder comfortably. He pulls you closer, his head burying in your hair. “You’re my best friend, Haz? And I… We can’t lose this. Not now. Maybe if you weren’t going away tomorrow, things would be different, but you are.”

With careful hands, Harrison pries you away from his chest until he can meet your eyes, his blue irises twinkling sadly. “Is that what you really want?”

You sigh, shrugging helplessly. “There’s not really an alternative, Haz,” you say. “Just… Go off and enjoy the world, alright? I’ll still be here when you come back. And if you- if you fall in love with someone else whilst you’re away, that’s fine. I’ll get over it.”

“What if you fall in love with someone whilst I’m gone?”

“I won’t,” you promise. You pick up his hand and kiss his knuckles softly, meeting his eyes nervously. “I wouldn’t be able to do that, I…” I love you.

Harrison sighs, his face conflicted and distraught, but he nods his head slowly. “I’ll come back to you,” he says sweetly. He leaves a very quick, very light kiss on your lips, and it makes your heart pang. “I love-”

You kiss him firmly, fingers grabbing at the front of his shirt. You mumble against his lips a sad, “I know, me too,” and then you pull back and climb up from his lap, fixing your hair quickly. “We should go join the party. They’ll be wondering where we are.”

Harrison nods softly, his demeanour deflated, but when you reach to grab his hand, his eyes regain some of their sparkle. “It’s only six months,” he says, trying to convince himself. “How much can change in six months?”

Everything, you want to say. Everything could change. But instead, you give him a shrug and lead him out of his bedroom, the moment behind you, the imprint of his lips against yours hanging over your mind.

[-----]

Maybe you’d been a coward. For the time he’d been away, you’d caught yourself berating your own actions, analysing them, dissecting them, even sometimes regretting them. But you know that the timing wasn’t right. What were you supposed to do? Sleep with him and then immediately say goodbye? That would have been worse than waiting on tenterhooks for six months, waiting to see if he’d find someone else, waiting on him to come back. It was like your life was on pause for those long months, only truly moving when you were texting him or calling him. It was long, and hard, and heartbreaking. But was it worth it?

You end up in the club.

It’s 2am and the room is spinning. Pulsing strobes and banging music shake your body, and you’re absolutely steaming as you enjoy yourself on the dancefloor. Harry’s already gone - disappeared with his arm around a girl, and you know Sam and Tom are flagging fast. The only one who’s managed to keep up with you, as always, is Harrison, and he’s got his hot hands pressing into your waist as you dance up against him.

He’s intoxicating. With his lips wandering up and down your neck, you find yourself reaching back and grabbing fistfuls of his hair, keeping him close, longing for him. Your bodies are pressed so tightly together that you can feel every single bump, every detail of his figure, and you’ve missed it so much.

“We’ve got a uber!” You’re pulled from your thoughts and blink a few times, Sam’s figure suddenly appearing in front of you. Harrison promptly stops his movements, his hands still holding your hips, and both of you lean nearer to the boy to hear him. “Me and Tom are going home. Do you want to come with us?” Sam yells, forehead sweaty. His eyes flicker down to where Harrison’s holding your waist, his eyes lighting up mischievously.

“No,” Harrison says immediately. Then he falters, glancing at you. “I mean, we can. I don’t mind.”

Your lips drift into a lazy smirk. “I live five minutes away, Sam. It’s fine. Haz can just stay with me, or go back later.”

His grip tightens on your waist. “Well, I’m not going to let you walk back by yourself,” Harrison says, voice cutting through the banging tunes.

Sam looks between you both. “Fine, we’ll leave you both here,” he says finally. Then his eyes narrow and he reaches out to poke your arm, then Harrison’s. “Be safe, alright?”

Sam and Tom have barely left the club before Harrison’s spinning you in his arms, moving you around to face him. His pale face is flushed a deep red, scattered rays of bright reds and blues shifting over his features as the music pounds. Your eyes connect, and the breath leaves your lungs as you just...look. You look at him hard, eyes examining every part of his face, retracing the features so familiar that you’ve spent nights looking at them behind your eyelids. His nose, his cupid’s bow, his lips. God, you could spend hours just looking at his lips.

He leans in, mouth brushing at your ear. “Let’s go home, yeah?” He reaches down and tangles your fingers together, and your heart beats weakly in your chest as you nod.

The walk back takes longer than five minutes, mainly because the cold crisp air brings your tipsiness to the forefront of your mind. You’re laughing, and Harrison’s saying something totally absurd, and then you’re both clinging to one another, bending over in peals of laughter as tears prick your eyes. You’re sure what he’s saying isn’t even funny, but in the moment, so overcome with different emotions and liqueurs, Harrison may as well be the funniest man in the world. When you eventually stumble back to your flat, Harrison has to hold your fingers and help you guide the key into the lock, setting you off again. You’re still laughing as he slides the lock shut behind you, the sound only puttering off into light giggles as you fall back on your bed, exhausted.

It’s been a rollercoaster, seeing him again, and feeling all those old emotions spring forward and seize hold of you. He’s still so fucking attractive, even now with his blond curls sticking to his sweaty forehead and his blue eyes tired and slightly bloodshot. He’s still utterly breathtaking as he lies down beside you, body sinking into the mattress as he pulls you close, guiding you onto your side so you’re cuddling him, your head on his chest. He still makes you feel weak as his lips drag over your hairline, and you cling to him because you’re terrified to let him go again.

“You meet anyone while I was away?” He says, finally addressing the elephant in the room. You shift slightly, craning your neck up as you look up at him, meeting his nervous gaze.

“Of course not,” you reply immediately, heart turning at the thought. “Did… Did you?”

He shakes his head, fluffy curls resting against your pillows. “Got everything I need right here.”

And you just melt.

Moving slowly, you shift so you’re laying on top of him. With tentative and measured movements, you crawl up his chest until your face is hanging above him, giving you the perfect view. His eyes meet yours, his small smile growing larger as you drag your lips over his cheek, leaving a scattered trail of kisses up and over his cheekbone, across his forehead, down over his other cheek, and then ending with a final kiss on his nose. Your mouth hovers over his lips as his hot breath fans over your face, and then his hands find your sides and he’s pulling you in.

You kiss, and immediately you know that six months apart was far too long, because you’d forgotten how magical it felt to be kissing your best friend. His hands slipping up, over the front of your dress, up into your hair, pulling you as close as possible as you kiss him firmly, lovingly. His lips part and your tongues dance together, and he tastes like beer but it’s okay because you do too. He’s utterly intoxicating, and as he cradles you in his strong arms, you give yourself over completely.

“I’m yours,” you mumble against his mouth. “I fucking love you, Harrison.”

Between kisses, he says, “I love you too,” and the words bring tears to your eyes.

“Never leave me again,” you say, voice wobbling. You stop kissing him, just so you can pull back and look at the face you’ve fallen so deeply in love with.

“I won’t,” he says. He catches your lips in a soft, warm kiss, and you realise that his mouth feels a little like coming home. “I promise.”

[-----]

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[notveryglittery]

birthday prince (1)

summary: roman gives the performance of his dreams and deceit loves him all the more. words: 1,330 / ship: roceit (roman/deceit)  author’s note: hello!! this is the first part of my Giving The Gay Anything He Wants series for roman’s birthday (june 4)! the ships are all written romantic but i’m not stopping you from seeing them however you want. peep the ao3 end notes for credits on these gift suggestions (bc i can’t decide where to put them in this post)! i hope you enjoy!!

part 1 (roceit) | part 2 (logince) | part 3 (prinxiety) part 4 (royality) | part 5 (dlampts) read on ao3 

— — —

“Darling, may I please open my eyes now?”

“Trust me. We’re almost there.”

Deceit could try all he wanted to hide the excitement in his tone but Roman had no trouble picking up on it. There were hints of nervousness there, too, but Roman was sure that whatever his love had planned, he was going to enjoy it no matter what. Surely, it had something to do with his birthday, given that the week of it had just begun. Usually, Sundays were reserved for family time, but apparently Deceit had had this in the works for a while now, and if they all knew anything, it was to not throw a wrench into his schemes. The part Roman was having a hard time wrapping his head around was the fact that Deceit was giving him such an early birthday gift.

His hand was cool in Roman’s but it held on securely as they walked. They were dressed nicely, with matching accessories. The rings on Deceit’s fingers kept clinking against the ones that Roman wore and as silly as it was, he couldn’t stop smiling about it. During their stroll, the air had been warm and the floor mostly carpet beneath their feet; at the sound of doors opening, however, there was a brief crisp breeze and suddenly each step echoed around them. Roman would know this room no matter the circumstances. A giddy laugh bubbled up his throat.

“What’re we doing here, bee?”

“Why don’t you take a look for yourself?” Deceit suggested, pulling Roman’s hand up to his lips and pressing a kiss to his knuckles.

Roman opened his eyes. As he expected, Deceit had taken them to the Theatre. It had always been a pleasant and neutral space in Thomas’ mind. Whereas Roman kept control over the Fantasy Realm or Logan the Memory Archives, the Theatre was available for any of them to use as they needed. It was often transformed for Daydream Scenarios but Roman liked it best like this, in all its original glory.

“Shall we?” Deceit prompted, gesturing down the aisle and towards the front row seats.

Roman might not know what was in store but he had no intention of turning it down. He followed again, resisting the urge to mention Deceit having not actually answered his question. He knew he’d find out any moment now, anyway. They settled comfortably, Deceit not once letting go of Roman’s hand. It was only a few seconds later that the lights dimmed and everything shifted. No longer were they figments of the imagination, sat in a theatre that he had created. As far as Roman could tell (and feel), they were in New York City, at the Richard Rodgers Theatre. It was… it was absolutely magical.

And then the opening notes rang out and Roman’s breath rushed out of him.

”How does a bastard, orphan…”

“What… you—”

“Oh, don’t get all flustered now, dear,” Deceit interrupted, equal parts teasing and adoring. “You’ve got a role to play.”

The reds and golds of his suit were replaced in an instant and the 18th century garb he wore now matched that of the actors performing. His hands were shaking but he couldn’t tell if it was because he was terrified or excited. It was probably both.

“Shut up,” he squeaked.

“Happy birthday,” Deceit purred, entirely too self-satisfied.

”And the world’s gonna know your name…”

In a blink, Roman was center stage, in darkness. The show had been sold out, every seat filled. Most of the audience appeared faceless and unimportant to him but, barely, he could see Deceit still sat in the front row. The pride and awe shone blatantly on his face. Roman’s heart was racing. It was adrenaline and fear and joy and nerves and satisfaction. It was butterflies in his stomach and dreams coming true and the sensation of slipping into character and playing his part with as much enthusiasm as he could muster.

”What’s your name, man?”

“Alexander Hamilton!” Roman sang as the spotlight beamed down on him.

— — —

Roman threw himself into Deceit’s arms as soon as he arrived backstage. He was out of breath and had been crying since the end of the curtain call but he was blissfully happy. Absolutely nothing could take him down.

“I love you,” he gasped, peppering Deceit’s face with kisses. “That was exhilarating! I just performed in Hamilton! Alongside the original cast! I played the lead role! Oh my god!”

“And you were brilliant,” Deceit said, leaning back just enough so that Roman could see his smile. There was a bouquet in his arms and the flowers were pushing against their chins; it tickled but it smelled sweet. “No offense to Lin-Manuel, but—”

“No!” Roman exclaimed, laughing through his tears. “Don’t you dare besmirch Mr. Miranda’s name!”

Deceit rolled his eyes but relented. He pulled away and offered his gift out to Roman. “I know, they aren’t nearly as handsome as you. However…”

There was more weight to the bundle of roses than Roman would have expected. Upon closer inspection, he found a carefully wrapped package tucked in the middle. He cradled the flowers in his elbow and took the parcel out with his free hand.

“This is for anytime you need reminding of how loved and cherished you are. If for some reason none of us are available to do so, that is.” Deceit was telling him but Roman was transfixed by the handheld mirror revealed as the cloth fabric fell away. It was shiny and gold, with rubies and citrine embedded in the handle.

“I don’t know how true any of it is but,” Deceit began and Roman could hear the telltale start of a nervous ramble. “Rubies are protective stones that bring happiness. Citrine encourages self-expression and creativity. They’re also…” He paused. Roman’s heart felt warm at Deceit’s growing blush. “You know… our colors.”

Before Roman could respond, the mirror flashed pale yellow. He winced and then nearly dropped it because it had started to speak.

“Oh, dearest Roman, it should be impossible for you to be any more attractive than you already are! Somehow, though, the expression you wear when gazing at your loved ones adds still so much to your infinite beauty!”

“Excuse me?!” He yelped, mouth falling open in surprise.

“Good timing,” Deceit said, having seemingly recovered. “And don’t think you can get away with needing it but feeling as if you don’t deserve it. It’ll compliment you whether you like it or not.”

Roman couldn’t even be upset at the blatant callout on his behavior when Deceit looked so pleased with himself. Creating something like this… he had to have taken into account the mirrors’ awareness of its surroundings, knowing when Roman would need it… This hadn’t been a trifling task. Roman thought he might burst with all of the feelings welling up inside of him.

“I love it,” he managed, voice wobbling as tears sprung fresh to his eyes. “I love you. Thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you—” The gratitude dissolved into happy crying, positively overwhelmed by it all.

“It’s the least I could do for you, my prince,” Deceit crooned, stepping closer and taking Roman gently in his arms. “The world would be yours, if I could give it. Until then, I’ll continue to do my utmost in providing you anything you could ever ask for.”

The Theatre melted away as Deceit carefully sunk them out. While Roman retrieved a box of tissues, Deceit took the flowers and mirror and set them safely aside. It took only a few minutes longer for them to be dressed comfortably and in Roman’s bed, wrapped snugly in blankets. He was crashing quickly, from the last of the adrenaline and the final wave of emotions. Everything was just the right amount of comfortable, Deceit’s cooler temperature keeping them from being too warm from Roman’s elevated body heat. He felt cocooned and safe in Deceit’s embrace and knew that there wasn’t anyone on the planet luckier than him.

[harrysdimplles]

used to this

the one where crossing a definitive line is easier than both of you realize, and harry can’t wait to get used to it. 

AN: the smut in this was supposed to be pure filthy, but feelings somehow got in the way, so here we are. enjoy, and if you can, please,  buy me a coffee

He really should get out of bed soon. Technically, he should be out already, seeing he is supposed to be at an early interview, but Harry just... can't.

The bed is warm, you see. And he's too busy watching YN sleep, head pressed against his naked chest, one arm thrown around his waist, the other tucked under the pillow to be arsed to think rationally. It's kind of a thing. It happens, when she's around. He gets caught up, body and mind, like tunnel vision or something. It's her. All her.

Besides, he hasn't seen her for a while, so it's even worse this morning. Pretty bad last night too, when he sneaked out after a performance, jogging up the stairs of her building as fast as he could, heart on his throat when she opened the door.

She was on his arms before her sleepy brain could fully comprehend he was really there, a solid presence, his breathing raising goosebumps where it hit her skin.

He didn't want to let her go, so when she just pressed herself closer, he decided he wouldn't. He was fine, more than fine, standing there with the cold from the hallway hitting his back, the scent of YN's coconut shampoo making his head spin with the realization he missed her much more than he had let himself be aware of, voice muffled and full of surprise when the greeting came.

It had been over a year since they met, but the surprise had yet to fade: Harry could sense it, spot it in the first seconds of every late call, watch it whenever one of them came over with bags of take out and cheap spirits, the slimmer of doubt, the hesitant smile before he pulled her close like she was waiting for him to realize this, them, shouldn’t be a thing.

Harry felt the same. It scared him shitless, made him a trembling mess every time this sweet girl smiled at him, pushed him off of her way or told a joke that was as bad as the ones he had memorized over the years: all he could do was wonder if it was the last time, every time.

Maybe that was it. The fear of losing her, maybe that’s what had Styles biting his tongue every time he almost let her name slip when one of his other friends asked what kept him glued to his phone in every spare moment. There were at least a couple of people that would want his head if they knew the story anyway. Harry wasn’t supposed to go and give his number out to fans, for fucks sake, not even the ones that worked in a small restaurant he liked to escape to every now and then. Not even if they let him sit on the corner and just be when the nights seemed too long, making conversation about anything that weren't the things the world was convinced it already knew about him. Especially not if their smile made his heart rate increase, if it had him blurting out excuses to linger around just five minutes more...It was careless, could be dangerous, even.

He took the risk anyway. Fame had given him his wildest dreams, but it robbed him of so much at the same time...moments like the previous night, nestled in bed while YN's voice filled the room with words from the book she was trying to finish before he got there, were Harry stealing something back.

More than worth it, if you still had doubts.

Now, while his hand grabs at the black bedside table in search of his phone before the bloody alarm goes off, the musician wonders how he'll manage the day without her, how he'll focus on anything that isn't the memory of her lips on his just hours ago: he can still taste it, her along with the nerves that dissolved as the night went on,  bodies slowly relaxing in the moonlight, the words of a stranger and a hardcover the last barriers left standing.

He moved first, right when YN's voice got hoarse a couple of chapters in, his head on her pillow,  telling himself it was just so she didn't have to speak as loud, but he still came closer every time her eyes flickered into his in between paragraphs.

With his fingertips dancing up and down the arm she had resting on her hip, the book was over before they knew it, YN's hands tangled in his chocolate locks. Seconds slowly bled into minutes until Harry couldn't stand it, not kissing her: he leaned forward, just enough so his intentions were clear. Waiting.

First heartbeat: she didn't pull away.

Second heartbeat: her eyes fluttered closed, fingers curving on the back of his neck…

She was kissing him, then. Slow, barely-there drags of plump lips on his, tasting, grip on his hair growing stronger as the kisses started to linger.

It wasn’t long before their bodies started to intertwine, YN’s right leg swung over his hips, Harry’s rings bruising the inside of her thigh when he felt her lips graze his jawline before they were on his neck, nibbling at that soft spot that had his cock fattening up so fast he could swear he was seeing stars under his close eyelids…

The memory alone has the guy swearing under his breath, painfully aware he’s got a bad case of morning wood all of a sudden.

It didn’t happen the night before, both of them too busy trying to fit months of making out into a couple of hours to properly think about anything else, even if it was maybe taking things further, and now…

Harry has to go. 

YN stirs when the mattress shifts, loose limbs refusing to let go of his warmth just yet. 

“No” it’s a weak plea, Harry’s deep chuckle sounding close, but not as much as she’d like.

“ ‘s still early, sweetheart, ye don’t have to move” now he’s whispering, fingers caressing the shell of her ear, the fastest way to have YN asleep, he knows. “go back to sleep, promise I’ll lock up when it’s time to leave” a kiss to her forehead, another to her nose, then one on her exposed cheek...her arm tightens around him,  blinking so his angel face is more focused. “Hi”

“Don’t move" it’s a borderline pathetic whining sound, but she’s far too sleepy to care at the moment, pulling him back when he tries to roll over to the other side.

"Gonna make me late, angel" he's way stronger than her, so objectively, she can't hold him in bed all morning, YN knows that, but knowing won't stop her from trying: she's not sure what last night was about, but the longer he stays, the more time she has to not think about it. If he stays, perhaps he'll kiss her again. She'd like that, very much so. "YN, come on" his voice is wavering, but his body is a solid weight when he gets on top of her, pinning the girl to her bed so he can unwrap her arms from around himself, which...Yeah, she likes that.

"Sorry" his eyes are even prettier this close, head tilting to drop a chaste kiss to the palm of her hand before she can slide it from his neck. "You have to go, but I…" he shouldn't even be there, she's well aware of how full his public schedule is gonna be for the next days. Letting the enchantment wear off, remembering they belong to different worlds is harder now, tho.

They've crossed a dangerous line, truly messed up, she realizes.

I mean, it was just a late make-out session if she were to really think about it. A flicker of desire caused by some post-performance adrenaline rush on his part, nothing more.

Never more.

Right?

Looking away, YN breathes him in, once, twice…push him off. That's all she has to do now. Figuring out how to forget his taste is for when it's safe, once his job puts an ocean between them again.

"Baby, look at me" Harry is the one who breaks the silence clouding the room all of a sudden, body still pressed against hers. She's tensing up now, he can feel it happening "What's wrong?" 

Watery, doubtful eyes meet his, YN's small hand pressed to his chest, just resting there, like she hasn't decided what comes next just yet.

"Kiss me again" she whispers, after a moment "Kiss me so I know you want me too. Please, Harry"

There's nothing gentle about the contact this time around, no. When he kisses her now, Harry takes her mouth, claims it, smashing their lips together, tongue gliding against hers.

When he kisses her now, he feels her body tremble and heat up below his, hears the first soft moan rising from the back of her throat, biting into his lower lip to try and chase him when he pulls back so they  can breathe.

When he kisses her now, he can't stop his hands from wandering, spreading over the expanse of her soft hips, dick throbbing when he grazes the material of her panties. He's so hard now, even the feel of  the old pair of sweats  he went to bed in brushing against his tip makes the singer hiss into her mouth.

"Wanna feel you" he doesn't want to, but he wills  himself to pull away enough so there's actually some centimeters between them, eyes darting to the hem of YN's shirt, bundled up above her navel. Somewhere along the kissing he's fitted himself in between her legs, he realizes now, dragging his nails over the exposed skin "Can I?" she nods, gasping when he pulls his fingertips up and under her the fabric, all the way to where he can feel her pebbled nipple, rub his thumb over it slowly, watching her breath get caught, moving to the other side after some time, pulling at nub until she whines, then starting again. 

"Off. Take it off" YN's positively shaking when she speaks, rising from the mattress so he can pull the shirt over her head.

"Fuck, baby" Harry looked away for about two seconds when he threw it on the floor and now he's watching her rub herself over her panties, pupils blown with lust, defying gaze faltering as his mouth wraps around the mount of her left breast and starts descending.

"Harry….Please" YN is burning. Harry's mouth is going down her exposed skin torturously slow, and knowing what he's about to do is not making the wait any easier: he's gotten her so wet it's almost embarrassing, clit throbbing cause of the few seconds of friction her own hand provided before she lost the capacity to focus "Please" he smiles when she tries to push his head lower, letting the elastic of her panties snap back against the skin, once, twice.

"Ready to give me a taste, angel?" she's a mess, the sly grin plastered on his face says he can tell….YN's still trying to decide if he really wants an answer and if she can give him one that's not a heady moan caused by the feel of her underwear coming off when she feels his smart tongue lick it's way from the inside of her thighs to the apex of her legs, the bedframe hustling as he buries himself deeper into her cunt, nose rubbing at her swollen nub as he fucks her with his tongue.

"I want you, now" she can barely recognize her voice, the rest of the phrase dying down at the sight of Harry licking at his lips when their eyes meet again "Please, H" her mind is a mess of sleep, needing, and Harry, so she doesn't bite her tongue to avoid begging again.

He's teased her time and time again about it, but right now, while the guy reaches into the bedside table's drawer for a condom he knows she keeps there, his sculptured face is full of desire, lust blowing up in his pupils when she doesn't look away as he gets it on himself.

His touch is gentle, however. 

Styles is all taunted muscles when he drapes himself over her, close as he can be, hard tip nestling where she wants him most, but the hand that comes to the side of her face carries the faintest of touches:

"So beautiful, baby. Can't stop looking at yeh" it's a whispered confession, eyes never leaving hers as he goes forward, dropping open-mouthed kisses to the exposed skin as YN's body melts into his with every inch his shaft takes.

He's claiming her and they both know it.

"Fuck" the curse sounds almost sweet, a reverence coming from his lips, Harry looking at her for what is the millionth time but feels like the first, lips crashing again.

He kisses YN, slowly, wills himself to relax and not just fuck her. Every thrust takes him deeper, the wet heat, the pleasure written over her, even the smell of their sweat mixing together making his mind and his hips rail faster, skin slapping sounds driving him crazy.

It was never this good before, he realizes, looking down to where YN's biting her lips, big teary eyes on him as he takes them closer, pussy throbbing around him with every move.

It might  just be the endorphins flooding his cortex, but in that moment, Harry could swear she was made for him. 

She cums suddenly, his name a whine and a warning as the man keeps going, the ink decorating his body swerving around her closed eyelids when wave after wave of pleasure sweeps every inch of her, the feeling of him the only thing that matters once he finds his own release, numb fingers still intertwined on his hair, praise words on a thick accent not even registering.

" 'morning, angel" the banter that's never too far when it comes to them sounds better when her bedsheets smell like him, YN decides, opening her eyes a few moments after he's pulled out, just to make sure he's still there. Her breathing is erratic, the raw feeling of her throbbing cunt radiating throughout her entire body as they stare at each other, Harry's warmth sipping onto her, as he stands there and look at her, eyes glinting like he's trying to make sure it was real too.

"For fucks sake, H" the whisper finds them snuggled close, her fingers scratching at his scalp, the man's confused expression turning upward when he notices YN is trying not to laugh "You're so late"

The rest of the morning is kind of a blur:  she watched from the bed as Harry rushed through a shower, cursing when the girl pointed out he had his shirt on backward, messily kissing her goodbye when his Uber ride got to the building. Apart from the delicious dull ache in between her legs, she tried not to think about him too much, not that it worked: the ghost of his touch had her flustered, heart beating on her throat when another text came  by lunch:

Dinner tonight? Want you to meet some of my friends. I'll try to keep my hands to myself, but note that it's not a promise. I miss you, angel.

When she hit sent on a simple four-word acceptance, her fingers trembled: no matter what came next, things between them would never be the same again.

[angstymarshmallow]

Serendipity - Mark x MC, (#LoveHacks Fanfic)

[A little note:  I have wanted to do a Mark x MC piece for such a long time, but with the way #LoveHacks is constantly up and down for me, I didn’t think I’d ever find the inspiration to finish one.]

[Summary: Standing up MC isn’t the perfect way to start a relationship. Can Mark make it up to her before the last train home? Wow this is a terrible summary]

Dani basked in the Sunday afternoon glow of San Francisco heat. She arrived early in her rush to beat downtown traffic and was relieved to finally have a few moments to herself. 

She sighed and tipped her head back, drumming her fingers across the bench’s rough texture until she involuntarily checked her watch again. A habit she had begun cultivating as of late, whenever she felt the bundle of nerves she was feeling now. She checked it superfluously every few minutes for any familiar signs of his bright eyes or his familiar dark hair; but no one jumped out at her the way Mark often did as they passed.

They were supposed meet with the rest of their friends, except the rest of their friends had cancelled. Horatio had taken someone else’s shift at the bar, Sereena and Brooke were up late from work the night before - and she hadn’t heard from Cole all week. A tour of one of San Francisco’s greatest museum they said, except everyone came up with excuses to bail last minute. She wondered if it was because they had been obvious to everyone but themselves in their flirtatious smirks and teasing remarks; nevertheless, they had left her ultimately to her own fate. A fate of loneliness, after demanding the tour to San Francisco’s best museum was an absolute necessity.

As Dani sat near the edge of her seat, the bottom for her heels clicked impatiently. Still her eyes, skimmed the crowd, restlessly searching for any sign of him. Craning her neck forward, she tilted her head past the typical wave of San Francisco traffic.

There was a surprisingly large amount of people for a Sunday afternoon. They were all sporting summer dresses, loose T-shirts and jeans even though Summer had just declared itself in the new season. Couples held hands and walked briskly past her, parents trailed behind their children before stepping by her towards the museum entrance.

She glanced at her phone again, hoping he would make an appearance before she threw in the towel and left.

No such luck.

After nearly an hour of waiting, she tucked the device inside her small bag and hailed a taxi.

She had the sinking impression of a probable reason why he hadn’t showed. Although they had decided to move forward – seeing where things could go after ignoring the spark over the years; they had barely made any attempts with getting to know each other better. Intimately better. She knew Mark the other way, in fact better than most. She knew the smile he wore whenever he had an idea, the way his eyes sparkled at the mention of his favorite comics before he would launch into a detailed explanation that the rest of their friends didn’t care about. And the rumble of his laugh when they talked about the week they had, often finding their complaints to be silly by the end of the night. She knew that Mark, but the Mark she wanted to know was so much more.

The last time she even remembered the feeling of his lips, were almost whispers of another time. Things hadn’t changed since then, in the wake of the two weeks after.  In between meet-ups with their friends; he was apologetically busy with his job and his growing mobile app Dopey Cat, while she was adamantly working on her own business. A start-up with a series of articles to get her two-woman company up and running properly with Leah. Things were almost at a standstill between them and she hoped tonight could have been their first fresh start.

A hope that dwindled the further she drifted from the museum.

Sighing, she stared out the window of her taxi at the sunny weather, which admittedly made her feel worse instead of better. She wasn’t the type of person to lose confidence easily; especially when it came to relationships and dating – but with Mark it had always been different. Things were supposed to be easy with him, but staring out of the blasted window; it was beginning to feel anything but that.

It was as if their secret admittance had never happened. Two weeks of barely seeing each other exuded second thoughts inside her head. She couldn’t help but think she was back to that same awkward limbo she dreaded being in with him. They shouldn’t be taking two steps forward only to take several steps back.

On a whim, she fished out her phone to text him.

Hey where are you?

Her fingers hovered over the send button. She bit her bottom lip and read over the words, before indecision overwhelmed her.

She uttered a low groan of aggravation before shoving the device back inside her handbag. Why was this so hard? It wasn’t as if she had never dated before, and relationships weren’t supposed to feel like this. So desolate. So depressing. It shouldn’t be so complicated and yet her nerves were telling her it was.

She gave the cab driver a tip when they arrived by her destination. The subway that would take her back to the safety of her home. She travelled towards the train, muttering all the ways she was going to tell Mark how upset she was. Her mind kept drifting back to the unsent message that waited on her to send. Maybe if she –

She stopped herself. If Mark had really cared about her, he would have made some kind of effort to contact her. Instead, he ditched her in the most pathetic way possible. A date to the museum that ended with her going back home with an empty feeling inside her chest. And now all she wanted to do was head back to her apartment, soak inside a tub and cry with her favorite tube of ice cream beside her. At least her ice cream wouldn’t make promises it couldn’t keep.

As she grabbed her ticket from the vendor, her eyes had on a whim skimmed the hall. She froze, and squinted until she was certain she wasn’t seeing things. Her eyes had spotted him across the room.

Those bright eyes and the familiar dark-hair that reeled her in from the very beginning of when they met. “Mark?!” She said incredulously.

He was standing a few feet away with a bouquet of flowers inside his hand. Roses – and as cliché as they were, they also happened to be her favorite.

They crossed the distance between each other quickly. She threw her arms around him, laughing in delight at the sight of him. “I thought you weren’t coming!” All her earlier reservations of annoyance, and all the terrible things she wanted to call him had already begun dissolving when she noticed his smile.

“I know, I’m sorry. I got caught up with work and couldn’t leave until my boss gave the okay.” He squeezed her affectionately with his free hand. “I figured I’d have a better chance catching you here than at the museum by the time I left.”

She pulled away slightly to smile up at him. “Good call.”

“I happen to have those every now and then.” He replied, winking at her.

“More on the lesser scale than anything else.”

“You say that now, but wait till you’ve seen what I’ve planned for our second date.”

She snorted, “You’re sucha dork.”

“But an adorable dork that brought you flowers and is begging for your absolute mercy and forgiveness?” He playfully held out the bouquet of roses. “Please?”

Her mouth twitched, until she laughed. “Since you did bring these, you’ve won back some points.” She said as she took the bouquet from him and inhaled its sweet scent. “Not a pass,” She eyed him with mock disdain, “You’re still on thin ice.” She warned thinly but with no real conviction once he smiled sheepishly at her again.

“You know you can’t resist this smile. I mean come on.” He motioned to himself and his smile grew when she laughed again.

“Should I just get on the train and leave without you? I mean there’s only so much room for me and your ego.” She teased, shaking her head.

“Ouch that hurts – right here.” He pointed a finger to his heart. “But our date doesn’t have to be over before it’s even begun.” He tucked her arm under his and begun leading her towards the train.

“It doesn’t?” She quirked an eyebrow at him.

He gestured to the train, before enclosing his hand around hers. “Our chariot awaits.”

“Just what exactly are you thinking in that big brain of yours Mr. Collins?”

“I guess you’ll just have to wait and see.”

They sat beside each other with shoulders touching. Mark kept a hand on her leg, and she leaned in closely, eliminating most of the space in between them as they spoke in hushed over tones. People filed in with every stop but neither of them paid much attention to constant flux of people or the flow of their conversations.

She was keenly aware of every breath he took, the way his eyes brightened and hung on to her every word and the octave his voice dropped to once she suggested they stopped by his apartment. She was beginning to notice new things about him and they captivated her; far more than the dull sound of the train stopping before commencing once again across San Francisco.

As people came and left, they stayed on board and raised their voices a little more each time, and they paused until the train moved once again. Each time they did, they learned a little more about one another with every passing stop.

They swapped stories of each other’s day; Mark filled her in on the latest developments of his mobile app and Dani kept pace with her own little articles she was working on across the bustle of city life. They swapped stories of their newest habits and Dani tormented him about his unrelenting patterns whenever he inevitably fell back into a slump.

He admitted to her that most of his patterns didn’t linger as long as they used to. He smiled more, laughed a lot and he was finally getting around to the bucket list they both made in freshman year.

She teased him that it was ultimately because of her. 

Their conversation had changed abruptly after that. The amusement in his eyes was suddenly replaced by sincerity. The air around them dissolved from friendly into something more as his hand gripped hers. 

He shifted inside his seat. “I think you’re a part of the reason why.” He muttered honestly, “Not all of it, but I think ever since you moved back here - I’ve been having less of them.”

“Mark…” She trailed off as he leaned forward and tucked a stray hair behind her ear. The musky scent of his cologne invaded her senses and she couldn’t look away from his stare as they bored into hers.

He didn’t hesitate to kiss her; his eyes had said he wanted to even before she felt his lips descend on hers. They were familiar, gentle. A slight pressure of desire surged inside her and heat lingered across their lips that slant together.

It wasn’t their first kiss; or similar to one they shared in the bar. This held the promise of something more. As her lips sought his, she wondered if perhaps this was what her heart had been waiting for all along. What she hadn’t found in anyone else, she had found in the most unlikely of places. A person who recognized her likeness as if it were his own.