#so the theme of this is basically them fishing his car and body out of the frozen lake after the race ends and they find this in his car | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kimnjss · 4 years ago

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how sticky | kth

⇢ pairing: ot7 x reader // taehyung focus. ⇢ genre: smut. // pwp. ⇢ word count: 7.6K ⇢ theme: established relationships. ⇢ rating: explicit. ⇢ warnings: cursing, dirty talk, poly relationship, handjobs, fingering, oral sex (f. receiving), public sex, outdoor sex, unprotected sex (wrap it up lovelies), all the boys wanna kiss yn, cum inside/stuffing, slight over stimulation if you squint. ⇢ A/N: literally this idea came to me while watching the first episode and seeing tae washes the dishes sooo, here you goo!! lmao x also if it seems messy or all over the place, that’s bc i wrote this while streaming dynamite and obvi got distracted .

Namjoon is the first to spot you, just as you're tugging your suitcase from the trunk of your car. The large grin that takes over his features as he makes his way over to you, brown hair flopping in the wind with each step he takes. A silver pot held in his hands that he must've forgotten the purpose of upon setting sights on you.

“You're here.” He says with a large smile, dimples showing while he leaning down to press a soft kiss to your waiting lips. “Did you eat?”

Just with one look around the backyard, you can tell that they just finished eating. Had hoped to arrive a bit earlier so you'd be able to eat with them. “Not yet,” He looked good, as usual, but oddly more attractive in this outdoor environment.

The blue two-piece outfit, which you had quickly realized was a favorite of his, hung loosely around his body. The muscles in his arms flexed as he kept his grip on the pot in his hand. Eyes turn to half-moons with the way he was smiling at you.

It had been a few weeks since you saw them last. What with their jam packed schedule and you keeping up with the things going on in your own life, there wasn't really time to be together the way you wanted. A constant long-distance relationship with the seven of them, even if they were only a few miles away.

Which was the biggest reason you were jumping on the chance to spend this week with them. Secluded with nothing to do but be together. It had been Jin who had suggested it, finding out that you had the same week free. What better way to spend it then with your boyfriends? Agreement coming from his younger members instantly and to your surprise, the staff was quick to agree as well.

Most times riddled a distraction, but it seemed that you being here sort of fit the relaxation, recharging theme of this entire trip. Zero complaints from you, of course, you were packing your bags the moment you got the green light.

“I'll make you a plate, wait.”

All of a sudden remembering he had been in the middle of doing something before seeing you. Quick steps are taken into the house with the pot in hand and you're right behind him, marveling at the huge land they had rented out for this. All of the greens of the mountains and grass was a pretty contrast to the bright blue sky, the sparkling lake that you couldn't wait to try out.

And there was so much stuff! Placed all over the place from where you can see, each item matching a different member's personality so well that you could guess who asked for what.

Joon is coming back, hands-free, but only to grab your suitcase, wheeling it into the house. He's gone talking to whoever is in the kitchen before he's returning, arm easily wrapping around your waist as he leads you down the hill.

“You came here looking refreshed,” He notes, finally saying out loud what he had been thinking since you were pulling the suitcase from the car.

Out of all of them, Namjoon seemed to pay a lot of attention to the way you looked. And no, not just the clothes you wore and how they fit – but like deeper. He paid a lot of attention to your facial expressions more than anything, reading your demeanor as if it was his latest page-turner.

A blessing and a curse, because although he knew when something was bothering you and tried his best to fix it without you saying a word. It was also really, extremely hard to hide things for him. Not that you tried to often.

“It was a nice drive and I'm excited to spend time with you guys,” The smile that takes over your features is causing a flutter in his heart, his large hand landing on your arm that you've wrapped around his torso – walking the rest of the way like that.

Jimin is whipping around at the sound of footsteps approaching, and you're eyes are widening at the sight of him. Unwrapping yourself from Joon's body, you're rushing the rest of your steps hands outstretched to touch the edge of the gat hanging from his neck.

“You actually wore it?” Speaking through a slight giggle and he's grinning, hands finding home on your torso as he playfully rolls his eyes. “Of course I wore it, so you better deliver,”

The result of a drunk game of Truth or Dare between the two of you. He spent the entire night choosing truth, but as soon as he was picking dare you were telling him to wear his new hanbok for the first day of shooting. He was agreeing with a roll of his eyes, boasting about how easy it was.

Then on your turn, he was hitting you with that sly grin of his. 'If I wear my hanbok for shooting, then you need to let me...' Words trailing off as he suggestively wiggled his eyebrows in your direction. You were quick to put two and two together of what he wanted. And you were agreeing because of course, you wanted it too.

With a distracted nod, your eyes are shifting to the moving figure behind him. “Of course, baby. Whatever you want.” Breaking from his grasp just as Namjoon is extending the full bowl in your direction.

You thank him with a wide smile, which he acknowledges with a short nod – going back to cleaning up while you take a seat at the table. Sat eating the food that you can tell was made by Jungkook as you watch your two men move around the yard until Joon is disappearing into the house again. Someone else exiting at the same time.

“I thought I heard your voice!” There's a smile in his voice that you can detect without having to listen very hard. And you're proven right as you lift your head, being met with Hoseok's bright smile. “When'd you get here?” He wonders once he's closer, taking the empty spot beside you.

“Not too long ago,” You speak through the mouthful of food in your mouth, the words you're speaking coming out a murmured mess.

The smile on Hoseok's face only grows, his hand lifting to push his hair back on his forehead. “I missed you.” A random confession that has heat rising in your cheeks. He always did this. Knew what a few simple words did to your mind and took pleasure in making you flustered whenever possible.

This time was no different. Just three words and you were forced to put extra focus on your noodles. He missed you. Obviously, you missed him – that's a given. But the fact that he, Jung Hoseok actually missed you and was just telling you about it casually. With that smile on his face. Yeah, he knew exactly what he was doing.

“I missed you too.” A delayed reply, but he's not faltering. Doesn't even think twice about what you could have been thinking about in the time it took you to answer. Instead, he's reaching his arm to wrap around your shoulders, pulling your body into his so he's able to press a dozen chaste kisses to the top of your head.

And then just like that, he's releasing you. Not even giving you a moment to react before he's standing from his spot beside you and moving to help Jimin clean up the outside area.

After the third time, you're asked to scoot over, you're standing feeling as though you're in the way of the cleaning. So, you go to find the others that you haven't seen yet. Thanks to a FaceTime call from Jungkook while they were going through the tour, you had a pretty good understanding of the layout of this place.

Heading over the hill to the Upper House, bowl in hand. And you're grinning when you spot Jin standing out front, staring at the line of delivered groceries in front of him. “Jinnie!” You're calling with a wave of your hand, and he's turning around.

“Yn!” He calls, just as loud – waving you over with one frantic hand.

Easily speeding up your footsteps, it's not long before you're standing in front of him. Arms wrapped around his torso in a tight hug. “What are you doing?” He's out of your hold now, bending to lift the bags off the ground.

“Putting groceries away.”

Following behind him, you shovel mouthfuls of noodles into your mouth while sinking down at the island. For a little while, you're able to enjoy your meal and engage in broken chatter was Jin moves in and out of the house.

He's filling you in on all the plans he has for this trip and the things he's excited about and you listen with a smile on your face. Loving the way he looks when he's completely in his element, eyes sparkling as he talks about being able to fish with Yoongi.

Speaking of Yoongi. Sauntering out from God knows where, white tee hanging loose – revealing a bit of his chest, baggy black jeans that you've now decided is the only thing you ever want to see him in. His hair is unkempt, laying messily over his forehead and only slightly covering his eyes.

There's a smirk on his face when he notices the blatant way you're gawking at him, sinking into the seat beside you – his cold hand not hesitating to reach for your thigh. “You're here?” He speaks in the bored uninterested drawl that you've become used to. Use to read too much into it before you were realizing that just the way he talked.

Now it had the ability to have heat rushing through your veins, especially if he was using that voice when telling you just exactly he wanted to do to you. Never failed to have you basically salivating, putty for him.

“I just came...” The patterns he draws on your inner thigh stills as he lifts his eyes to look at you, a chuckle falling from his lips. “Did you?” He asks teasingly and you're too dazed to pick up on the double meaning of your words.

His hand inches further up your thigh until the tips of his fingers are just inches from reaching the hem of your mesh shorts. Without a thought, your legs are opening for him – giving him as much room as he needs to do whatever he wants.

Yoongi's grinning at your compliance, his lips are just inches for yours. He takes a moment to study your features. Lips shiny with grease, cheeks slightly flushed, eyes staring unfocused. A slow grin lifts the corners of his lips moments before he's leaning in closer.

Yoongi kisses you once as if he's testing the waters before diving in. Grip tightening on your thigh, pulling your body closer to his while he slowly moves his mouth over yours. Soft tongue slowly tracing over your lower lip and you're instantly opening up for him.

The groan that leaves his lips from the feeling of your wet muscles meeting as arousal rushing through your veins and pooling between your legs, fingers reaching to grasp the rough material of his pants for some type of grounding.

And he grins, teeth gently tugging at your lower lip as his hand slides up your thigh toward your waist. So sure he's fingers are about to sneak underneath your shirt, so you giddily wait for the contact.

But it never comes. "Would you let the girl breathe, she just got here." Is what you hear.

Jimin, into the Upper House to change into something comfortable. And all too ready to scold his Hyung for trying something with you when it hasn't even been an hour. With a roll of those dark eyes of his, Yoongi is leaning down to press a soft kiss to your lips – much different from what he had initially planned.

Moment ruined, he's standing from his spot beside you. “I'm gonna go help Jin,” He announces to no one in particular, cheeks darkened with pink from having been caught. Yoongi talked a big game, but he was the most private out of the boys. Wasn't one for an unwarranted audience and preferred to have you to himself rather than sharing you.

“Tae's washing dishes if you're done with that.” He's jutting his chin out to point at your empty bowl on the island. As he speaks, he undoes the tie of his top letting it sag at his shoulders before he's shrugging it off. And you watch his fingers carefully, allowing your mind to wander to just how skilled he was with those fingers.

Playing the same notes for the past eight years on the piano wasn't the only thing he was good at. It's a moment before you register his words enough to stand to your feet, plucking your plate up and exiting the Upper House to find Taehyung.

Back to you as he scrubs the inside of the bowl, you watch as his hips sway to whatever song he's got going in his head. No idea that you're entering the kitchen or that you've arrived – just in his own world.

Taehyung looks handsome even from the back.

His broad shoulders were still visible underneath the brown top that was just so him. He wore a pair of olive green shorts, giving you a perfect view of his strong legs and the way they flexed with the movement of his feet. Thoroughly riled up from Yoongi's interrupted touches from before, you're struck with a very mischievous thought.

Light steps are taken in Taehyung's direction, quickly setting your bowl in the sink before reaching your arms to wrap around his waist. Palms sneaking underneath the fabric of his shirt so you're able to touch his soft belly. You feel him still against you, taking a moment to put together that it's you back hugging him like this.

He's turning just enough so he can look down at you, a large smile spread across his lips as his eyes take in your face that looks brighter for some reason. “How long have you been there?” Tae tries to hug you back but gives up because of the awkward position.

“Not long,” You answer, nose pressed in the dip of his back after he's turned. Your lips place soft kisses against his covered back, the tips of his fingers brushing over the skin of his stomach. “I missed you.”

And you had. There was just something about Taehyung that drove you crazy with little to no effort. Had to be his aura. The way he carried himself. The unreadable expression that always decorated his features. How he was able to smile with his entire face, pulling large smiles on the lips of the people around him.

All of that and the simple fact of how well the boy could fuck. Of course, all of the guys knew how you make you feel good. All in their own ways, different and unique and still good. But Taehyung. Fuck, Kim Taehyung. A living Sex God, with a thick long cock that he knew how to use. Long fingers that could bring you to climax over and over again with very little time in between. And that mouth. God, that mouth.

Porn stars would blush at the dirty things that came out of that boy's mouth.

Taehyung's eyebrow is lifting at the mindless way your fingers are dipping lower down his body, flinching just slightly when the tips of your fingers are grazing his quickly hardening cock. “That type of missed me, huh?” He's grinning, you can tell without having to see his face.

Head nodding slightly, you continue placing gentle kisses against his back – fingers drawing teasing lines over his cock through the fabric of his shorts. “Don't be a tease,” He hisses.

His wet, glove covered hand is wrapping around your wrist – forcing more of his cock underneath your palm. A soft moan falls from your lips at the feeling of it twitching with the new friction. Tae's hips rock slowly with the movement of your hand, half of his attention still on the dishes he washes.

And you pout. Want to turn his mind to mush like he's done to you many times before. Until the only thing he can think about is you and how you're making him feel. Fuck the dishes.

Even on your tiptoes, you're only able to reach the nape of his neck. But it's the first bit of bare skin you're able to press your lips against so you settle for it. Leaving open mouth kisses on it while your fingers slowly make their way underneath the waistband of his shorts.

Pleased to find he had decided to forego underwear, you're instantly met with the warmth of his shaft. A low cruse falling from his lips when your cool palm is wrapping around him. And you hold it there. Waiting to hear the scoff that falls from his lips as he starts to rock his hips again – his cock sliding through your grip easily.

The sound of his breathy groans fills the kitchen, egging you on. You can feel him growing harder in your hand and the slow drag of his hips is quickly driving you crazy until you're giving in to the tiny game you were playing and moving your hand.

“Oh, fuck.” Tae hisses, the dish he had been holding crashing into the sink as his fists reach to grip the edge of the sink. Voice gruff and it's usual deep, it has a wash of arousal flooding your body and fueling your movements. Free hand lifting to grasp his hipbone, holding him steady as you bring your hand up toward his tip.

A simple swipe of your thumb over his bulbous has a shiver running down his spine and a grin pulling on your lips. Strokes on his shaft speeding up as the sound of his breathy groans tickled your ears. Hips stuttering underneath your grasp in an attempt to take more than what you were willing to give him.

Always so greedy.

“Does it feel good?” Voice hushed where he can just barely hear.

Taehyung is quick to nod his head, though. “Your hand feels so good on me, Yn. Faster,” He whines, something that you're not quite used to hearing from him. Especially over a simple handjob.

He must've missed you a lot more than he was willing to admit.

And because your soul purpose is to give Taehyung any and everything he asks for, you're rubbing down on him quicker, squeezing him a bit harder. His cock twitches and jumps in your hold and you're fastened by the effect you have on him that your grip on his hip is loosening – allowing him to freely roll his hips upward.

A strong arm is reaching back while his body twists, large glove covered hand tangled in your hair to hold your head steady. For the first time, you're getting a good look at his face. Eyes blown and unfocused, his cheeks flushed and lips bitten. He looks so sexy staring at you as if it's taking all his restraint not to devour you.

The way he leans in, crashing his lips into yours for a sloppy hungry kiss only validates your thoughts. Grip tightening in your hair to hold your head still while his tongue tickles the roof of your mouth.

You try, desperately, to keep your focus on the movement of your hand. Letting him lick into your mouth and kissing him just as much as you can without completely losing your mind. Taehyung, like his six other teammates, worked really well with his mouth. In all ways.

He's nibbling on your lower lip, harsh breaths exiting his nostrils as your thumb runs over the underside of his cock. So close and you can tell from the now frantic roll of his hips. And you're more than ready to bring him there, loved watching him fall apart for you, because of you.

More than ready to have him explode in your palm so you can like it up when the sharp knock on the glass behind you is stilling your movements. Head turning to peak behind you, but Taehyung does stop his head tilting so he's able to suck wet hickeys into your warm skin.

Hoseok stands on the other side of the door, looking extremely impatient. You move to pull your hand from his pants, but Taehyung is quick to grasp your wrist. “Yn, I swear to God.” He speaks through gritted teeth and you're flashing a bright smile up at him.

“It's Hobi,” There's another knock on the glass, “He can't just stand out there,” Laughing, you manage to wiggle yourself out of Taehyung's grasp. He watches you with squinted eyes as you pull the door open for his Hyung.

Cued in on what had been keeping you, a teasing smirk plays on his lips. “What? You're just in here giving Taehyungie all the attention?” Both hands knit into your hair from underneath, slowly closing the space between you two.

“He's working hard in here,” You defend with a slight pout. Upon realizing he wasn't going to be getting off any time soon, Tae turns his attention back to the dishes. Scrubbing the gunk off with much for strength than needed, quiet grumbles leaving his lips.

“I worked hard too, cleaned up outside all by myself. What do I get?” Lips a mere inches from yours, all you'd have to do was lift up onto your tiptoes to feel their softness. “I saw Jiminie helping you.”

Hoseok is rolling his eyes at the slight detail. You're teasing him, he can tell from the way you're gripping his shirt in your fists. Like you're desperate to feel him but at the same time seeing how much you can hold back.

What you failed to realize was, he was much better at teasing than you. Without a second thought, he's leaning down to press his lips against yours. Kiss much different from Taehyung's. More controlled. More intense. Strong hands reach for your thighs, easily lifting your body off of the floor and setting you to sit on the countertop.

He's taking up space between your legs, large hands set on your thighs while he sucks your lower lip into his mouth. You can feel the smirk that plays on his lips from the sound of your moan.

Hoseok responds by reaching back to give your ass a firm squeeze, pulling your body toward his. He's hard. You can feel it through the fabric of his neon shorts, but the moment you're angling your hips to feel more of him – he's pulling back.

“Jimin should finish up, hm?” Recalling your earlier comment with a teasing glint in his eye. Planting a soft kiss to your lips, he backs away attention now on Namjoon who had entered with a bag of groceries. As if nothing had happened.

Body buzzing and senses fogged, you're left to wonder just how many times you'd be denied the release you craved.

The two men chatted amongst each other mindlessly, surveying the contents of the fully stalked fridge in front of them. Joon is pulling a bottle of coffee from the bunch, handing it over to you with a soft smile before twisting the cap on his own. You watch as he wraps his plump lips around the edge, Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows the liquid down.

Plopping down on the soft red cushion, you watch as Joon moves to offer Tae a sip of his drink. Which he's denying with a pout of his lips. From where you're sitting, you can see that his bulge has gone down a bit – but the foggy need for sexual release stays. You know the feeling. Had half the mind to get on your knees for him right then and there, not like either of them would complain.

They did share you, at times. And those were the times that you secretly hoped for each time you were being interrupted with one of them. But, all of them were so different from their interests and really liked the idea of being alone with you – it didn't happen as often as you'd like.

You could simply suggest it and no doubt they'd agree to the idea. Ready to do whatever you asked to fill your desire. But you liked the surprise of not knowing just when you'd be taking two cocks, or three, or maybe even four. All seven if the weather was right. The suspense had a great effect on you.

Jimin is entering the main house just as halfway through drinking your chilled coffee. Fully changed out of his hanbok, standing in a pair of loose-fitting black shorts and a white SAINT LAURENT tee. Dark hair floppy messily at the top of his head, evident that he's been running his fingers through it.

He looked good enough to eat and if he kept looking at you with those bedroom eyes, you were about to do just that. Beeline made in your direction, settling in the spot beside you. An innocent hand lands on your thigh and your brain short circuits, registering it as anything but.

Without a word, he's reaching for your bottle, taking a long sip from it before licking the drip from his lips. “Where's Kookie?” You ask, forcing your thoughts not to wander too much. And realizing you had yet to see that bunny smile of his, hear the cute way he say's 'Noona' as he wobbles in your direction.

The same age as Namjoon which made you older than Jimin, Taehyung, and Jungkook – yet Jungkook was the only one out of the three that actually referred to you as Noona. No matter how many times you'd tell him to speak comfortably with you, he'd refuse with blushed and a shake of his head.

The others believed he got off on it, the subtle reminder that you were older than him but he was still able to turn you to make you fall apart with the simple flex of his thigh. “You haven't seen him?” Hoseok speaks with his head inches deep in the fridge and you shake your head despite the fact he cannot see you.

“He’ll come running the moment he hears you're here,” Deciding that your drink is his now, Jimin stands from his spot beside you heading further into the house. Steps cut off by Jungkook turning the corner, as if on cue.

“What!?” A large grin on his lips as his sparkling eyes land on you. Soft hair bouncing as he skips over to you, leaning over the counter so you're face to face. Tattooed hand reaching forward to enclose the back of your neck, gently pulling you forward until your foreheads are touching. “You didn't tell me you were here, Noona.” Eyebrow arched and head tilted to the side.

You can barely see his face with how close you are to it, but there's no doubt that he looks attractive as hell right now in his attempt to be intimidating. Lower lip poking out in a slight plea, “I'm sorry, baby. I was asking about you, though.”

Jungkook only half listens to your words. Some space put between you and he takes advantage of that by allowing his eyes to take in your appearance greedily. Aware of the warmer temperature, you had decided a simple v-neck crop top would suffice. From this angle, he could see straight down your top. And he was doing very little to hide the fact that he was looking, respectfully.

“I'm sure you can think of some ways to make it up to me. Right, Noona?” Hand slipping from the back of your neck, the tips of his fingers brushing over the collar of your shirt. Lips suddenly dry, your tongue is jutting out to wet them. Thighs squeeze together instinctively at the promise his words held.

A contrast to his demeanor, Jungkook is placing a sweet kiss on your lips. One that lingers for a second shorter than you want, but the small smile on his lips upon pulling away is enough to make your heart melt.

All at once, he's releasing you and moving on to follow Jimin out of the kitchen. Taehyung is finishing up he dishes at the same moment, shaking his hands of the water droplets before wiping the excess onto his shorts.

Alone in the room with him again and you feel the atmosphere shift as soon as his eyes settle on you. Finally able to get a good look at you and taking in just how short your shorts are and how thin the material of your top is. But Taehyung is a gentleman when he wants to be.

His hand rests on your back, the tips of his fingers brushing against the bare skin your shirt leaves exposed. “Want to go for a walk?” Teeth biting into his plump lower lip. Instantly, you're sliding from your seat head nodding at his words.

Taehyung's arms wrap around your waist, pulling your body into his chest and you just faintly see the grin on his face before you're being enveloped in his sweet scent. Guided steps are taken into the game room where Namjoon sits, a laugh leaving his lips at the weird way the two of you are walking.

“What are you making?”

“A boat,” Joon says with a wide smile, lifting the plastic boat to show you. Cutie. Impatient, Taehyung is pushing his hips forward into yours. Even through the layers and with the small fact that he's not exactly hard at the moment – you can still feel his bulge against your ass cheek.

But he doesn't stop there, slowly dragging his hips up so you can feel his entire length. A strangled gasp is leaving your lips that has Taehyung smirking, Namjoon too focused on whether or not he just broke his model, doesn't notice.

Arms tightening around your waist, Taehyung takes a step forward – urging you to do the same.

When Tae said he wanted to take you on a walk, he wasn't speaking in sexual innuendos. You had actually gone for a walk around the land. Hand in hand making comfortable chatter as you soaked in the nice weather.

Somehow, you managed to convince yourself that he hadn't been itching to get you alone to fuck you – but really just wanted to spend some time alone with you. It's sweet when you think about it. The gentle way he's talking to you about the nervousness that surrounds working on his new mixtape. His soft thumb brushing over your knuckles as you assure him that everything will turn out alright.

It's not until you're reaching the picnic table just a few feet from the water, is he wrapping his arm around your hips. Lifting you from the ground as if you weighed nothing and setting you down on the table.

Blunt nails lightly dragging over the back of your knees as he gently spreads your legs so he's able to stand in the middle of them. He's easily hooking your legs around his waist, ankles instantly locking to pull him closer to you. “You know what I want to do right now?”

“What?” You humor him, even though you could probably guess. Arms lifting to wrap around his neck, head tilting to the side as a slight smirk plays on your lips. His mouth hovers over your ear, wet brushing over the shell of it as he speaks.

“Wanna taste that sweet little cunt. Bet you're already soaked from all the attention you've been getting.” To prove his point, Tae's fingers trail up between your thighs. Your body shudders as he drags a single digit over your slit through the fabric.

He wasn't wrong, had started to feel the heat pool between your legs when Yoongi first kissed you. Mind driving you insane with being able to be with them for this entire week. All of them. It was safe to say it had gotten to you in a very obvious way.

Not one to tease, Taehyung is using his long fingers to push both your shorts and panties to the side so his fingers can press against your bare skin. A surprised gasp leaving your lips with the nudge on your clit, hips bowing toward him. He grins.

“Gonna be a good girl for me?” He's a little breathless, but his fingers never falter. A single digit slipping past your folds and pushing through your walls. “Shit.” He chuckles at the enthusiastic way you nod your hand, tongue rolling over his lips before biting down. “Yeah? Gonna cum all sloppy on my tongue, baby? Let me hear you.”

At the end of his words, his thumb is pressing into your clit, rolling it around lazily as his finger moves slowly inside of you. “Y-yes-” Words breaking on a loud whine, he slows his fingers – waiting. “Wanna cum on your tongue, Tae... p-please.” Hips lifting to rock into his hand but he's pulling back, leaving you feeling empty.

It doesn't last long because he's quick with lifting your leg. Fingers wet with your arousal and wrapped around your thigh, bringing it up to his shoulder. Tae lowers himself to his knees in front of you, at the same time pushing the useless material aside before diving in.

Taehyung watches you through his long eyelashes while dragging his tongue along your folds. Always loved the way you looked when he was between your legs. The way you tried to keep your eyes open to watch him, biting your lip in an attempt to keep quiet, fingers tangling in his hair – holding him close. Hot.

Tongue dragging up to flick against your clit, Taehyung reaches for your other ankle. Lifting your leg over his shoulder so he's completely enclosed by your legs. Plush lips wrap around your bundle of nerves, sucking gently while he's pushing two fingers past your walls.

“Oh! Tae, fuck...” Panting at this point, grip in his hair used to pull him tighter against you. His free hand reaching around to sneak underneath the hem of your shorts, palming your ass while pulling you closer. Fingers angled to brush against the sweet spot inside of you, loving the way you squirm underneath him.

Just faintly, you can see the outline of his hard cock through his shorts. Straining against the fabric begging for some attention. Having you spread out for him, hearing those pretty moans fall from your lips is enough to drive anyone mad. And it doesn't help that Tae's been waiting for this for weeks.

Sharp teeth nip at your clit just as he's pushing another finger inside of you. “Taehyung!” You're crying out, in half pleasure – but also a warning. If he continued like this you'd be cumming before even getting to feel him inside of you.

“Close, baby?” His words are delivered into your throbbing cunt, sending vibrations through your body that has your back arching. Fingers tightening in his hair as you grind your hips desperately into him.

So close you can practically taste it, no longer able to worry about not being able to feel him. Just chasing your release. A breathy chant of 'keep going' falling from your lips as you hold his head in place.

Heat spreads throughout your body, a dull ache starting in your core and spreading throughout your body. Walls clenched so tight around his fingers that it's almost hard for him to pull back, so he doesn't, instead pushes deeper – pressing all three fingers against your sweet spot. In that exact moment, his lips are wrapping around your clit, sucking harshly and you feel the band snap.

Body tightening and legs shaking as incoherent curses fall from your lips. Taehyung watches your pretty eyes roll back, head tipping too. And once he's sure you're at the peak of your climax, he's pulling his fingers from inside of you and standing to his feet. Quick with fishing his cock from inside his shorts, you just barely notice the absence before you're being filled again.

A drawn-out whine falls from your lips at the new stretch, a thick groan from his from the tight squeeze. The wetness from your release makes it easy for him to move, though and he's thankful – too eager to wait longer than a few seconds to have you.

Your fingers struggle to find something to grasp as he ruts against you in an almost brutal pace. Each snap of his hips pushing your body further up on the table, only for him to drag you back down toward him. Loud cries and incoherent sentences fall from your lips that you're sure anyone in a 50-mile radius could put together what the two of you are doing.

Taehyung loves it, though. It's like fuel to his ever-growing ego. Chants of his name falling from your pretty lips, nails clutching at the fabric of his shirt as you beg for him. Just the knowledge he's able to make someone like you, like this. Yeah, he loves it.

“Fuck. This greedy little cunt,” He nearly grunts, eyes flashing up to take in your fucked out expression. His thumb is easily finding your clit through the wet mess between your legs, rubbing it slowly. “You wanna cum again? All over my cock this time?”

A frantic bob of your head and a whiny 'please' is prompting him to reach for your hips. Easily, he's lifting your body from the table, securing your legs around his waist. His hips rut against yours with much more fervor in this standing position. And you attempt to meet his thrusts but you're so delirious that all you can manage is a lazy bounce.

Arms wrapped around his neck and face buried in the crook of his neck, your walls squeeze around him as you feel the pressure build in your stomach again. Sloppy, wet kisses sucked into his skin. Teeth scraping against the tanned flesh before you're crying out your orgasm, body shaking in his arms.

You're positive if it weren't for the rough grip he has on your ass, you'd be sprawled out on the floor from the power of it. Taehyung fucks you through the entire thing, not slowing down until he feels his own release approaching, just second after yours. Thighs tightening and thrust becoming sloppy while he pulls your body down tighter against his.

The feeling of his thick ropes of cum coating your insides has your senses waking up, that paired with the slow drag of his cock inside of you has your legs stiffening again. Hips rocking slowly against his as another tiny orgasm washes over you. So small Taehyung wouldn't have noticed it if he hadn't been paying attention – but of course, he was.

“Did you just cum again?” He says with a laugh, chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. Lips sucked into your mouth to hide the sheepish grin that fought to take over your features. “It felt good... you cumming, inside.”

A triumphant grin takes over his features and he's leaning down to press a lingering kiss to your lips. “Let's keep it in then,” He's mumbling against your mouth and you're not sure what he means until he's pulling out – fingers quick to meet your entrance, pushing his cum back inside of you.

Body twitching with overstimulation, but you let him stuff you with his cum, not able to deny how hot it was. Especially the look of concentration on his face, careful not to miss a drop. Once he's satisfied, he's secured your shorts back in place patting his hand over your crotch playfully.

“You better keep it in there, too. Gonna fuck it out of you later,” He promises with a large grin, head tilting up to nibble at your jaw. He's got one hand resting on the curve of your ass, the other gripping your thigh. Zero plans to put you down any time soon, loving the way you're wrapped around him.

He'd stay like this with you forever if he wasn't for the distance shout he's hearing from the main house. Trying to ignore it and praying that you don't hear it, but as it grows louder your ears are perking up.

“Taehyung-ah!” It's Namjoon's voice and you're immediately pulling back when you register it. “Think Joon is looking for us,” You say through a giggle, the kisses he's leaving on your skin starting to tickle.

“He'll give up.” Tae murmurs, trailing a wet line of kisses down the length of your neck. And you almost agree with him, but you hear Namjoon call again and figure it would be best to just go see what he wants. So, despite Taehyung's reluctance, you're unwrapping your legs from around him.

“Or we can go see what's up.” Taehyung's changing his tune once he's realizing you weren't going to change yours.

His arm is easily sliding around your waist, pulling your body into his as the two of you make your way back into the main house. It's a little weird walking with his cum stuffed inside of you. Like a subtle heaviness between your legs that you just barely go without noticing. And if you moved too fast you could feel a bit of it start to trickle out, forcing you to pay much more attention to your movements than usual.

When the two of you are reaching the sliding door, it's locked. Your other six men are sat in the room, snickers falling from their lips with one look at your frazzled state and the fact that you're locked out.

“Ooh, what were you guys doing out there?” You can hear Hoseok's teasing tone through the glass. As if it weren't obvious. As if they didn't hear what you guys were doing out there.

Taehyung doesn't miss a beat, hand dropping down to grasp your ass. “Stuffed her full of my cum.” He says with a wide grin that has hollers of amusement falling from their lips. “Tae!” You're gasping, face heating up as you lift your arm to punch at his shoulder.

“What it's true?” Sparkling eyes turned to you, lips shaped in a soft pout that you'd lean up and kiss if you weren't sure it'd have a glob of his cum rolling down your leg.

Namjoon, your perfect little angel, is the one to pull the door open. And you're thanking him as you walk past, carefully taking the vacant spot beside Jungkook. “Do you really have cum in you, Noona?” He wonders. Eyes dark while a curious hand reaches to brush over the waistband of your shorts.

“Only a little bit,” Fingers lifting to just barely pinch your fingers together to show him. “Prove it,” He says with a tad bit of playfulness in his tone, tugging at your shorts just slightly.

You have half the mind to do just that. The thought lingering in your mind long enough for both Hoseok and Yoongi to notice. Intrigued, Hobi waits to see if you'll actually do it – but Yoongi speaks up before the tension can grow any thicker.

“We're choosing rooms,” Changing the subject completely acting as if an eight-way orgy wasn't just on the table. “Oh, right!” Joon, who had been subtly watching to see if you take Kook's dare is all of a sudden the reason he had gathered everyone.

A few moments are granted for conversation to bounce around the room, choosing where they'll sleep for the next seven days. And once they've settled their arrangements, attention is back on you – but for an entirely different reason now.

“Noona can share the floating house with me,” Jungkook is saying with a wide grin, keying you in on the fact that this conversation had been going on a bit longer than you had been paying attention.

With a quick nod of your head, you're assuring the young boy that you'll share the room with him. “I figured I'd just bounce around? If you guys don't care.” Much easier that way, whoever wanted you to spend the night in the room – you would. But to keep things tidy, you'd keep your stuff in the floating house with Jungkook.

“Of course we don't care-” Jin starts, but his words are being cut off by Taehyung's haste. “My room first!” Hand raised in a cute schoolboy raised, the look that he pins you with washes all remnants of the word cute out of your mind, though.

With a thick roll of his eyes, Namjoon's standing. “If she wants to. You choose, baby.” His attention now on you and the pet name has shivers running down your spine. There was just something about the way Joon called you 'baby' that had you keening.

He doesn't act on it, though. Not right now. And neither do you. One by one, they each break off to do their own thing until dinner time. You find yourself following Jin out to the dock after hearing he was going to fish for a little bit. You had gone on quite a few fishing trips with him, never did it but liked to keep him company when he went.

It's hard to ignore how at ease you feel here, with them. Not a single worry in mind in this secluded spot with your favorite guys. Where they're able to be themselves and be with you and be happy. Thankful that you were able to join them. And so ready to be apart of the memories this next week holds.

No matter how sticky.

- seven days in the forest spent with your seven boyfriends while they film their upcoming reality tv show. there’s no telling what the eight of you will get into when the cameras are off.

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luminescencefics · 4 years ago

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A/N: Since this chapter is quite long, mobile viewing is probably not the best option because Tumblr can sometimes be finicky! I would recommend viewing in a browser. Happy reading, loves! x

***

The Climax

January 2013

Marcus and Nora break up during the spring of her second year.

He wanted things to move much faster than they were, and Nora was far too comfortable with their normal—the normal in which Marcus lived a floor above her and they could wrap around each other in his tiny twin bed without worrying about things outside of their protective bubble. Because this normal was easy, it was simple, it was safe—and doing anything different, switching up their normal, would make it the complete opposite.

So when he tells her that he found a small studio apartment in the West Village one April afternoon underneath a budding black tupelo tree in Central Park, and he would love more than anything for Nora to move in, she immediately declines. She wasn’t ready for that step—wasn’t ready to not live with Ebony and switch up her normal and pop their bubble.

Breaking up wasn’t in Nora’s plan, but she knew that it was bound to happen. It was an amicable split, something that didn’t shake her world or leave her feeling lost at sea without an anchor in the unforgiving rough waters. And two months later, when she’s spending her final summer at home with her mother, Nora wonders if there’s something wrong with her heart when it still feels intact and the still-beating flesh isn’t ripping apart at the seams.

But life moves on, and so does Nora.

When she arrives back on campus at the start of her third year, Nora finds that she has room in her schedule for extracurriculars due to her influx of AP credits from Townbridge. On a whim, she decides to fill in the gaps with Film Study classes, and Nora finds that her heart is thumping in a way that it never has before—in a way that makes her feel that she’s finally found purpose, finally found her passion, finally found something close to unadulterated happiness.

Her favorite film professor is an older woman named Suzanne Davies who insists she be called Sue, or more radically, Suzy. She’s built of thin bones and worn skin, mahogany eyes that have seen almost everything that Nora wishes she could, with grey curly hair that twists at the nape of her neck and covers a brain that Nora wishes she could pry apart and indulge in every memory like a film projector reel on a thin hanging sheet.

She teaches Film Theory & Criticism, and when Nora listens to her thick British accent work through Apparatus theory and Structuralist theory, she can’t help but think of London—a city that feels an entire world away, and how badly she wishes she could visit, if only for a short amount of time.

One dreary November afternoon when Nora is the last one to leave the lecture hall, Suzy stops her and asks her what she wants to do with her life. Nora is instantly brought back to a time in December three years ago, in a different state with a boy she thinks about every now and then, who asked her this very same question as the snow was falling outside and they were laying down on concrete steps, eyes facing the cracked ceiling above. She was honest then, not even hesitating when spilling the words freely from her lips, because for some odd reason, she trusted him entirely in that small moment in time.

She feels the same now, and suddenly, she’s telling her professor about the pressure she feels of choosing a stable career, of how she needs her mother to be proud of her, of how she studies Communications but craves Film, of how she’s never been happier than when she’s watching old movies and dreaming up plots of her own. She tells Suzy how she’s never left the country, of how she wishes to see places that aren’t coastal Newport or rural Connecticut or bustling New York City.

When Nora sits in her usual seat in the middle row for her next class a week later, she finds an application for Columbia’s exchange program with University College London on her desk. She skims through the pages, finding that Suzy has filled in most of the basic information, leaving the personal questions for Nora to finish. And when she looks up at her professor just as she’s beginning the lecture, Suzy feels her gaze warm her wrinkled cheek and shoots her wink, going right back to discussing human nature as a fundamental theme in A Clockwork Orange.

Nora sends in her application right after class, and receives her acceptance letter the week before Christmas break. She feels as if she’s floating through thin air, and the only thing keeping her from floating into the stratosphere is the glossy folder from UCL with the words Congratulations! and welcome and 4 January 2013 printed on thick paper. Her mother might possibly be more thrilled than Nora, and when she’s back in Newport folding thick sweaters and knitted scarves and thrifted trench coats into her suitcases on New Year’s Eve, Nora can’t help but think that if moments could be bottled, she would pick this one to cherish forever.

Time seems to pass much faster for Harry. His first year meshes into his second year without hesitation, his afternoon’s at his internship with his father fall into nights spent with his mates almost thoughtlessly—and it’s only once he’s been doing the same thing for almost an entire year when he feels himself growing tired of it all. He’s sick of this routine. Sick of drinking himself into a place where he doesn’t have any feelings, doesn’t think of all of his past mistakes, doesn’t do anything else except simply exist for a few hours. And when he falls into his bed the next morning feeling his brain throb against his skill in agony, he comes to the conclusion that he’s completely and utterly exhausted from this meaningless lifestyle.

When his third and final year comes along, he decides to stop answering his mates when they call. He doesn’t show up to their penthouse parties anymore, he doesn’t frequent the same claustrophobic clubs he knows they’ll be at. Harry keeps to himself, and when he sees a flyer after his Business Ethics lecture about intramural football tryouts, he brings his old kit to the pitch the next afternoon. He’s a bit rusty, but Harry finds that most of the lads are, and that thought alone makes him start to feel something other than emptiness.

He makes the team and meets a boy named Niall. He’s from Ireland and drinks like a fish, but he’s kind and easygoing and doesn’t care that Harry’s surname is Styles—and it’s a refreshing change from the incessant partying and shallow people he wasted away with his first two years. Niall is warm and comfortable, and reminds Harry of slipping on that warm jumper he’s had for years in the back of his closet whenever the weather gets cold, and it’s nice having a real friend for once in his life.

As October changes into November, Harry feels a change within himself, too. It’s subtle, the smallest of shifts that allows his icy heart to thaw ever so slowly, and he finds that he welcomes it with open arms.

He meets Niall’s girlfriend just as the long stretch of autumn begins. Her name is Piper and she’s practically made for Niall, in the way that the top of her head reaches just under Niall’s chin so that he can rest it there whenever they’re talking to other people, in the way that his hand practically swallows her much smaller one whenever they’re walking from pub to pub, in the way that she instinctively makes him a cup of tea whenever she brews her own, knowing exactly how he takes it. It makes Harry a little bit jealous, because for the first time in years, he finds that he yearns to wrap a body part around another warm person just to inform them that he hasn’t forgotten their presence, yearns to swallow palms with his own, yearns to have another person think of him while doing the most mundane of tasks.

Yearns to have somebody want him in a way he hasn’t ever been wanted before.

Piper is in her third year at UCL, and she met Niall at a house party during their first year hosted by a mutual friend. They fell in love quickly and seamlessly, and after three weeks Niall told her that she was the one for him, and it all sort of made sense.

She welcomes Harry into their eclectic group, filled with a few lads from footie and a few girls from Piper’s dorm, and they’re the fastest friends Harry’s ever made. They spend their fall semester at a small pub in Camden on Wednesdays that plays live music and is filled with seemingly normal people like Harry’s new mates, and busy house parties hosted by UCL students on the weekends, with the occasional club sprinkled in between.

As autumn trickles into winter, Harry finds that he’s quite sad to watch Niall leave for Ireland for the holiday break. He’s not sure how time passed so quickly, and as December fades into January, Harry’s counting down the days until his loud brown-haired mate is back in London, showing up on his doorstep to drag him to the pub around the corner for a pint.

When Nora exits Heathrow during one of the coldest days of the year, she finds that not even the weather can dull her perpetual shine. She barely slept the entire flight, her excitement of being on a plane for the first time and receiving her first official passport stamp keeping her wide awake throughout the entire seven hour journey.

During the car ride from Heathrow to her residence hall in Central London, Nora’s face is glued to the window pane, her eyes taking in every sight that flashes by. Her mouth is close enough to the glass that her humid breaths are causing the window to fog over, but she can’t even think about how rude that probably is. All she can think about is the fact that she’s in another country, in a brand new city, experiencing all of this for the very first time.

When the black car finally pulls up to a brick building, Nora clutches her two suitcases in each hand, her leather backpack strapped tightly against the wool material of her trench coat, and makes her way to the sixth floor.

Nora’s room is small but homely, a single twin bed against one wall with a wooden wardrobe on the other. A white desk sits underneath the decently-sized window straight against the back wall, and when she looks around and takes everything in, she feels herself breathe properly for the first time since stepping on English soil.

Her floor is quiet, but before Nora can begin to explore, she decides to be smart and starts unpacking, knowing that the longer she puts it off, the less inclined she’ll be to put her clothes away properly.

After about an hour, she decides to venture down the hallway into the common room where a small kitchen and lounge area reside. Nora notices a few coats thrown over the back of the couch haphazardly, and before she can build up the courage to turn down the other adjacent hallway and meet her new floormates, she decides to brew a cup of coffee to push past the jet lag attempting to invade her insides.

When she turns the kettle on and rummages through the cupboards to try and find some instant coffee, Nora discovers nothing but various tea flavors. Disgruntled, Nora plucks a package of Earl Grey and places it inside a mug she grabbed from the shelf, moving the plaid tea towel a little bit further down the countertop as she waits for the hot water to boil.

Nora leans her right hip on the counter while she waits, drumming her fingertips against the laminate material as she tries to remember if she even likes the taste of tea to begin with. She drank chamomile tea once after studying for finals so that she could sleep, and whenever she was sick with a cold, her mother would make her a cup with a dollop of honey to soothe her scratchy throat. She wonders if she’s allowed to put milk inside so the color isn’t a deep murky brown, or if sugar would help with the bitter taste.

Suddenly, Nora detects something that smells distinctly of burning. She springs upright, wondering what on earth she could have possibly done. Water can’t burn, right?

But before her fuzzy brain can start functioning properly, she looks down to her right and notices that the edges of the plaid tea towel have charred, and when she blinks, Nora realizes that the red light on the hot plate has been turned on.

“Shit!” Nora squeals, flicking the switch off that she must have accidentally turned on when she lazily rested her hip against the edge of the counter moments ago.

Just as she makes a reach for the burning tea towel, she hears a high-pitched accented voice behind her shriek, and suddenly, freckled arms are appearing in her periphery, snatching up the ruined tea towel as she yells, “Oi! No tea towels on the hot plate!”

With a flick of her wrist, the girl throws the tea towel into the sink, turning the cold water on while Nora’s cheeks burn bright. “I’m sorry! I didn’t even realize—Christ,” she splutters, tearing her eyes away from the wet fabric inside the steel basin and focusing them on the smaller girl in front of her.

“Ah, you’re the new American exchange student.” The girl says it in a way that makes Nora wonder if it’s a good or bad thing, as if her identifier explains why she nearly burned their residence hall down a mere three hours after being allowed in the country.

Before Nora can apologize or worse, make an even bigger fool of herself, the pretty girl in front of her chuckles in a way that makes Nora breathe in a deep sigh of relief. And before she can even realize what she’s doing, Nora starts to laugh along with her—loud enough until her cheeks feel bruised from smiling so brightly and her ribs hurt from the lack of air pumping through her lungs. The kettle starts to whistle, forcing them to break their eye contact.

Just as Nora reaches over to turn it off, the girl’s freckled arm beats her to the punch, knocking her hip against Nora’s with a bright smile, “Let’s keep you away from any more potential fire hazards, yeah?”

The lightness in her tone makes Nora believe that she’s being genuine, and when the girl begins to pour the hot water into the mug and shoots a kind smile over her shoulder, Nora takes a step back and feels a bit more at ease.

“I’m Nora, by the way,” Nora announces, watching the pretty girl with auburn hair dunk the tea bag exactly seven times into the water.

“I’m Piper. How do you take your tea?” she asks, looking over her shoulder again. Nora gets a bit distracted by the smattering of freckles covering the bridge of her nose and falling onto the apples of her cheeks. Her eyes are the brightest shade of green Nora’s ever seen, and when the girl tilts her head to the side in question, Nora shakes her head, realizing that she has no idea how to properly drink tea.

“Uh, I’m not sure,” she admits sheepishly. Piper gives her a soft smile, before reaching into the refrigerator and grabbing a small carton of milk.

“You’ll take it like me, then. Reckon I’ll convert you into a proper tea drinker by the time your exchange is over, Rah,” Piper calls out, pouring a dash of milk and plopping one sugar cube inside the cup, stirring it another seven times. Nora wonders if that changes the taste or if it’s just a little quirk her new floormate does.

Nora’s eyebrows furrow at the unfamiliar name that falls from Piper’s pink lips. “Rah?”

Piper hands over the mug with twinkling eyes. “Gotta give you a nickname if we’re meant to be proper mates, right?”

It’s a question that seems to not need an answer, because Piper is the type of girl that says things with an air of unbridled assurance. Piper could tell you that the glowing star in the sky wasn’t the sun, instead, it was a dripping egg yolk that warmed everything underneath, and you would believe it. So when she calls Nora by her nickname, she doesn’t even bat an eye, because if being called Rah means she has a new friend in this unfamiliar place, then Nora will accept it without hesitation.

“Let’s get you all settled in then, yeah? I’ll have my boyfriend bring us some dinner. I think you’ll like him,” Piper says, grabbing Nora’s hand and dragging her into her bedroom at the other end of the hall.

A few hours later, when a brown-haired boy with matching blue eyes and a thick Irish accent shows up with two bags of Thai takeaway in one hand and a twelve-pack of Fosters beer in the other, Nora finds that Piper was right—she likes him quite a bit. They seem to get on like a house on fire, and when he cracks open a beer for her and tells her that he thinks she has a funny accent, Nora laughs and throws his comment right back in his face. The three of them end up eating too much food and drinking too much beer, but Nora doesn’t mind the bellyache when she falls into bed later that night, thinking all of it was worth it, because she made two new friends on her first night.

The next evening, Piper swings open Nora’s door without knocking, and begins rummaging through her wardrobe and pulling out her nicest pair of blue jeans, a cute sweater she got on the clearance rack at some New York City boutique, and one of her thrifted trench coats. She tells Nora to get ready because they’re going out tonight, and before she can decline, she hears Niall yell over from the common room, “Get yer arse dressed, Rah! It’s pub night!”

Barely thirty minutes later, Nora finds herself sandwiched between Niall and Piper in the cold January air, heels stomping against the pavement as they zigzag their way through the crowded streets of Camden Town.

Niall’s phone begins to ring, and before Nora’s head can snap in his direction, the sleek black device is already pressed against his ear as he begins speaking loudly into the night air. “Curly! How’re ya, mate? What? Yes, of course we’re goin’ to the pub. It’s Wednesday! Late? What d’ya mean, late? Oh. Yeah, sure, take yer time, Pipes and I have our hands full breakin’ in Rah over here. What’s that? Rah? Pipes and I adopted her. Yer gonna love her. Right, see ya later!”

He looks over at Nora as he slides his phone into his back pocket. The question is at the tip of her tongue, but when she takes in the mischievous twinkle in his eyes and finds that Piper’s are matching, she just shakes her head softly before muttering, “Do I even want to know?”

Niall flings his arm around her shoulder and Piper’s much smaller one wraps around Nora’s waist. “Best not to know anything,” Piper whispers into her ear, giggling as they make their way around the corner to the brick-faced pub at the end of the street.

When they finally pull Nora inside, it takes her a few moments to get adjusted to the unfamiliar setting. She’s only been twenty-one for two months now, and even though she knows the legal drinking age here is eighteen, she’s still only been inside a handful of bars in her short existence.

Bars in New York City are nothing like the place Nora currently finds herself in. She’s used to proper lighting, sleek bar tops, upholstered seating, and fancy liquor bottles lining the mirrored walls. Instead, she finds herself surrounded by chipped wood, sticky paneled flooring, and string lights fastened to original crown molding. The bar itself has more beer taps than she’s ever seen another place have before, and instead of ornate tequila bottles on thick glass panes, Nora finds numerous bottles of dark liquor haphazardly placed on oak shelving. It’s all wooden stools and high-top tables and stained rims on old surfaces, and when she notices an elevated platform along the farthest wall with musical instruments placed a bit too close together to make up for the lack of room the space provides, Nora finds that she likes this place a little bit more than the ones back home.

Instead of asking Nora what she’d like to drink, Niall just bends down and speaks into her ear, “You trust me, right?” And when she nods and finds that she surprisingly does trust this friendly stranger after only twenty-four hours, he grins and smacks a kiss to the crown of her head, prancing over to the bar with a giddy smile on his face.

Piper just shakes her head with a chuckle, grabbing Nora by the hand and dragging her over to a high-top closer to the empty stage. “Come meet the gang, Rah,” she says, squeezing her palm a little tighter when she notices the nervous look washing over Nora’s features.

With her palm in Piper’s, Nora is happily introduced to a group of five people clutching pint glasses with two plates of chips in the middle of the table. She recognizes two of the girls from her residence hall, and smiles when they compliment her boots and coat. The rest are names Nora tries her hardest to file into her memory, and when she slips into a stool with Piper sliding into the one on her right, she finds herself feeling much more comfortable.

Niall appears with a black tray covered in spilled beer and shorter glasses filled with a deep brown liquid Nora can only assume to be whiskey inside. She gulps, attempting to alleviate her dry throat, mentally preparing herself because she did tell him moments ago that she trusted him. And when she slides the liquor down her throat and feels it burn her insides, she chases the warmth with cold beer and hears Niall’s loud cheer across from her.

“Way to go, Rah! Yer a natural!” Nora feels Piper squeeze her shoulder affectionately, and before Niall can slide another shot glass in her direction, Nora watches his eyes lift over the top of her head to something behind her. His blue eyes suddenly widen and his teeth rip through his skin, grinning widely as he calls out, “Curly! Just in time, mate!”

Nora hears a deep chuckle behind her, and for some strange reason, it sounds all too familiar.

She’s instantly brought back to a time three years ago in the dead of winter, the rolling green Connecticut hills covered in thick white blankets of snow, in which a boy and a girl spent ten days together without any interruptions. She heard that chuckle enough times in those ten days to permanently have it imprinted in her memory, and suddenly, Nora feels her stomach clench uncomfortably, because how, after all of this time, can Nora still remember that sound?

But then she hears it. His voice—much deeper now, but still gravelly and throaty, forming words slowly with his accent tilting at the end of specific phrases. It’s much thicker now, no doubt from his time spent in his home country, and all at once, Nora feels her face pucker with discomfort. She wonders if anybody else can notice the inner-turmoil wreaking havoc underneath her skin, but then he speaks again, and it’s close enough to cause her to momentarily forget how to breathe.

“What do we have here, then?” Nora can’t bring herself to move. She feels as if her bum is glued to the wooden seat, the soles of her boots are transfixed to the legs of the stool, and her upper body has lost all proper motor function. Nora is almost certain that she’s panicking, but then she’s brought back into focus when Niall’s cheerful voice echoes off the walls of the crowded pub surrounding her.

“This is our Rah! Came all the way from America on exchange, so don’t go and scare her off,” Niall calls out, his grin faltering a little when he notices the alarmed look covering Nora’s face.

“Came all this way and the first person she meets is you? Well, let me formally apologize for that disappointment—” Nora gulps one last time and swivels around in the old stool, finally revealing herself, causing his words to fall flat.

When their eyes finally meet, Nora’s relieved she isn’t holding the pint glass in her hand, because if she were, she’s certain that it would fall to the floor below her, breaking with a resounding crack when she finally faces Harry Styles for the first time in three years.

It feels like everything is happening in slow motion. Sea green eyes widen in shock, and Nora watches as his neck pushes his face outward, as if his body was forcing him to take in every inch of her face to re-familiarize himself with it. He’s a bit taller now, still wearing an expensive dark-colored trench coat, still choosing an inappropriately thin t-shirt underneath. He seems to have grown up in every sense of the word—with the way his chest is a bit fuller and his arms are a bit thicker and his stomach is a bit tighter. His jawline seems to be more pronounced, the bone practically slicing through his skin with the way the lines effortlessly sculpt his face that is still annoyingly perfect. She notices that his hair is pushed back into a low bun, the curls escaping the thin hair tie just kissing the nape of his neck. She can’t help but wonder what the tendrils would look like if she pulled the knotted elastic from his hair, allowing them to fall freely down his back.

“Nora Priestley?” Harry barely calls out. He feels as if he’s hallucinating.

Because the last time he saw Nora Priestley in the flesh, she was all blonde hair and skinny limbs and knobby knees. There’s no denying that this is still her, considering her blue eyes are practically tattooed underneath his eyelids whenever he tries to fall asleep at night, and nobody else can steal that shade. She’s practically a fully-blossomed woman sitting in front of him—all slender legs and tiny waist, long torso that has rigidified over time, undulating hips that truly show a level of maturity that didn’t exist three years ago back in Connecticut. Her face is still angular, her nose is still buttoned, her lips are still pouty, her cheekbones are still high on her face and tinted pink. But when he looks at her hair, he notices that the blonde is gone. In its place is a deep shade of brown, nearly black, flowing over her shoulders and down her back languidly. Her fringe is still there, all messy strands framing a face that she’s finally grown into, and Harry finds a calming sense of familiarity in that.

She’s beautiful—she’s always been this effortlessly cool type of beautiful, and Harry can’t actually believe that she’s sitting in front of him. Can’t actually believe that her lips are moving on her face, forming his two-syllable name. Can’t actually believe that he’s been staring at her hearing white noise flood through his ear canals, blocking whatever else is falling from her mouth.

“Your hair. It’s different,” are the words Harry chooses to say once he realizes her mouth is closed, mentally berating himself for being so wrapped up in this New Nora that he seemingly forgot how to hold a normal conversation.

She seems to be on the same page, with the way she slowly tears her eyes from his own, staring blankly at the wall over his shoulder when an odd sense of déjà vu clouds her vision, before nodding absently.

“Yeah,” she finally voices, bringing her forlorn gaze back to his. “I could say the same for you.”

He smiles a bit, wondering how to maneuver through these unfamiliar waters with her. But before he can even properly locate his mooring, Niall interrupts, causing Nora to swivel back in his direction so that her back is once again facing Harry.

“I’m confused—have you two met?” Niall asks, observing the two with wide eyes, a crinkle in his forehead as he tries to dissect the interaction unfolding across the table.

“Uh, yeah. We went to boarding school together,” Nora explains, filling in the gaps. She sees the pint glass in her periphery and grabs it tightly, bringing it to her lips and gulping three heavy swallows of the bitter liquid to slow down her erratic heartbeat.

“Wait—here? I thought you said you’ve never been on a plane before, Nora!” Piper calls out from Nora’s right side, her auburn hair flicking back and forth when she notices the tension radiating off of their bodies.

“No, in America,” Harry answers for Nora when he realizes her mouth is preoccupied with downing her entire pint in one go. Her cheeks are flushed and her eyes are darting in every direction that isn’t the blue of Niall’s eyes or the bright green of Piper’s, and Harry can conclude that Nora is uncomfortable.

“Well, that’s a plot twist I didn’t see comin’,” Niall says through a chuckle, moving his eyes away from Nora’s as he takes a long swig of his drink, shaking his head at the uncanniness of it all.

The whole group seems to be a bit shocked by this revelation, and before Nora can suffocate under the unnatural silence surrounding the table, Piper asks the rest of the group a question about the new band performing tonight, and just like that, all is forgotten.

Nora can feel the body behind her disappear, and when she sees black wool material flutter past her eyesight, she breathes in a sigh of relief when she notices the only chair available is the one diagonal from her, almost conveniently out of her line of vision.

She looks up when she sees a fresh pint glass being pushed in her direction, and when her eyes lock with Niall’s and she realizes that he’s given her the second beer he originally saved for himself, she smiles appreciatively before bringing the cool glass to her lips, swallowing deeply with her eyes shut tight.

If Nora’s meant to endure this entire evening, she’s going to need all of the liquid courage she can muster. Because the universe must be playing some sort of sick-twisted game with her, giving her the opportunity to travel to a new city while simultaneously thrusting the boy who almost broke her heart right in the epicenter of it all. She wonders if this is her karma for ending things with Marcus, for not agreeing to move in with him and take the next steps in their relationship.

Nora sighs, wanting so badly to laugh at her situation, but knows deep down that she can’t. Because London is supposed to be a big city—filled with nine million people and her chances of potentially running into Harry were meant to be astronomically low. The numbers should have been on her side—considering Oxford University is sixty miles away from UCL, and Oxfordshire is an hour and a half away from Central London, and out of the three hundred pubs in all of Camden, the probability of running into him at this very one in this exact moment in time is far too outstanding to even be considered a possibility.

But it is, and it’s happening all around her, and suddenly—Nora needs to leave.

She can’t be sat so close to him after all this time and act like everything’s okay. Because it’s not okay and she’s not okay and this whole fucking scenario will never be okay, and in order to be okay, Nora needs to locate the closest escape route and disappear.

Her head is swivelling and she’s not listening to any of the conversations happening around her, and as if the gods were pitying her, sensing her panic attack all the way from the heavens above, they send her a sign in the form of Niall grabbing Harry and bringing him over to the bar with the guys for another round.

Once they’ve left, Nora abandons her half-emptied glass and grabs her coat, flinging it on her body without even buttoning it properly. Piper looks over, realizing that Nora’s face is flushed and her eyes are a bit widened, and before she can get too far, she asks, “Rah, you alright?”

Shit, Nora thinks, I forgot about Piper.

“Uh, yeah. Just need a smoke,” Nora lies, teeth forming a barely-there smile to try and prove to her new friend that she’ll be okay and doesn’t need to be followed.

Piper warily falls for it, and when Nora watches her freckled face turn back towards the girls at the table, Nora sighs in relief and hurries over to the front door, flying out into the cold January air as she tries to navigate her shaking feet back towards the Underground.

She doesn’t make it very far, barely rounds the corner of the street before she hears her name being roughly called from raspberry lips she’s too terrified to face. But his legs are longer than hers and his strides are more purposeful, because just as Nora’s identified the Underground entranceway, Harry’s large palm wraps around her tensed bicep and suddenly, she’s spinning on the heels of her boots, officially caught trying to run away in the middle of a busy sidewalk surrounded by throngs of people.

Nora immediately flinches, shaking his hand off her body before she becomes familiar with the warmth that encapsulates the fabric adorning her skin. Harry gets the hint and dejectedly brings his hand back down to his side, shuffling in his brown suede shoes as he tries to form the correct words to say to her.

“You don’t have to leave,” he starts, trying his hardest to identify the wary look in her eyes. Because he’s never seen her look like this—so completely and utterly defeated, and Harry almost wishes she would lash out instead of continue to look at him the way she is doing right now.

“I do,” Nora says, moving her eyes down to the cracked pavement. She can’t bring herself to look at his face anymore.

“Piper said you were having a smoke. I didn’t think you did that.” Harry’s words cause her head to lift abruptly, and she’s not sure if it’s because his voice sounds so broken and dejected, or if it’s because he’s insinuating that he still knows things about her.

“You don’t know me anymore, Harry,” Nora spits out, leveling her blues with his greens in a standoff that she doesn’t feel ready for.

Harry frowns, rubbing his palm against the back of his neck, choosing to back down. “I know.”

It’s sad. The whole situation is terribly sad, because suddenly, Pandora’s box has been ripped open—the lid practically flung across the pavement as feelings that have been buried underneath the surface for so long are unforgivingly being unearthed right in front of their eyes.

Nora turns away, knowing there’s really nothing left to be said between the two of them. Not until she’s properly processed it all. Not until she’s dealt with her emotions the right way instead of screaming in his face and never looking back.

“Nora,” Harry tries, his voice pleading with hers. He waits until she turns around before saying, “My birthday is in a few weeks. The first. Niall’s throwing me a party and all that, and uh—” he takes a massive gulp, his entire body riddled with nerves, “I’d really like for you to come.”

“I’ll think about it,” Nora says after a moment’s pause, offering him a shaky smile in hopes that it’ll be enough for him to allow her to enter the Underground without another interruption.

“And Nora?” her eyes find his one last time before he says, “It’s really great to see you.”

The next Wednesday pub night, Nora decides to stay home. It’s not that she doesn’t want to hang out with everyone, because she does—she just knows that Harry will definitely be in attendance, and she still isn’t really sure how to feel about everything. The last thing Nora wants to do is make things awkward with this new group of friends she just met, so staying in was the easiest option.

On the Wednesday after that, Harry decides to skip out. He doesn’t want Nora to feel like she has to avoid her new friends because their relationship (or lack thereof) is stuck in limbo. Traveling to a new country, especially for the first time, is never fun to do alone—and Harry would hate himself if he made her feel that isolating herself is the best option. So he stays home, and tries not to text Niall and ask him if Nora decided to show up (even though he stalks his mates’ social media and finds that she did, in fact, go).

Niall and Piper try not to ask the invasive questions that are dancing on the tip of their tongues, because it’s so blatantly obvious that Nora and Harry were never “just” mates from school. Nora never explicitly tells her new friends about what happened, but Piper can figure it out, because she’s a girl, and girl’s know what Nora’s eyes mean when they twinkle and break at the mention of Harry’s name. Harry, on the other hand, drunkenly spilled anecdotes to Niall in the past about a girl who deserved so much better than what he could offer her, and with one look at the bruised skin underneath Harry’s vacant eyes in the days that follow their reunion, Niall understands then that the girl in question is none other than his special Rah.

The first of February comes along with a dip in temperature, and before Nora can mull over Harry’s birthday party invitation any longer, she decides to throw caution to the wind and go. She shops for a pretty dress with Piper, and when she finds a discounted Topshop number that pairs excellently with the only pair of heels she stuffed into her suitcase, she purchases it without a second thought.

The girls get ready together and Nora lets Piper curl her hair, and when the rest of their friends make cocktails in their tiny shared kitchenette, Nora feels her worries wash away with each sip of fruity liquor that slides down her throat.

When they arrive at the club Niall organizes all their mates to meet at, Nora barely has time to try and locate the birthday boy. Because suddenly, she’s meeting a handful of new people and being dragged to the dancefloor against her will, and after her second (or third?) Sex on the Beach, she’s in that perfect state of drunkenness in which she feels light and airy and nothing but happiness radiates off her sticky skin.

Harry, oppositely, is in that state of drunkenness in which his words are slurring together and his eyes are glossy. He feels airy, practically lightheaded at this point, and his teeth stretch the skin around his mouth wide as he laughs along to whatever his friends are saying.

He’s barely had time to make the rounds, because people kept approaching him left and right with birthday praises and a shot glass filled with pungent liquor for him to shoot back. Niall finally rejoins him at the U-shaped leather booth in their corner of the club, and when Harry asks him something that sounds like Piper, Niall points in the direction of his girlfriend twirling around the dancefloor with a group of her friends.

When he refocuses his blurry vision on the group, Harry instantly notices brown hair floating through the air. The curls seem to have fallen a bit as the night dragged on, and when the girl turns around to mouth the lyrics of the upbeat song to Piper, Harry grins when he recognizes the pouty lips that are painted a refreshing shade of sherbert. Her cheeks are tinged and Harry wonders if it’s from exertion or alcohol, and when she spins back around to shake her hips to the beat of the overplayed pop song, he can’t tear his eyes away. It’s only once her hands scoop the hair at the back of her neck, pushing it upwards to let the prickling skin underneath breathe for a bit, when Harry notices the new etchings of ink on her body.

Three equally-sized birds are tattooed on the back of her right shoulder, swirling on her ivory skin whenever her arms move above her head as she dances. Harry can’t seem to look away—suddenly wondering if there’s anything else about her that has changed in three years. He finds that he wants to know everything about her within the time period when they weren’t in each other’s lives, and it’s that startling realization that causes him to ignore the advances of the yellow-haired girl sitting across the table from him.

“Y’alright, Curly?” Niall asks after Harry waves the girl away, and he nods distractedly, bringing his whiskey and ginger to his mouth to gulp back heavily. Niall shakes his head and tells him that he’s going to go dance with Piper, and Harry just watches idly as his friend saunters away.

For some reason, Harry doesn’t get up. Instead, he pulls more sips from the liquor at his table, watching in curiosity as Nora mingles with his mates and dances with Niall and Piper. He thinks it’s fascinating, thinks that in a parallel universe he and Nora would be doing this every night, and instead of random girls vying for his attention, Nora would undoubtedly have all of it.

With that thought running through his head, he sloppily gets up from his seat, drunkenly hobbling over to his group of friends on the dancefloor near the bar. When he approaches them, he flings an unsteady arm around Niall’s neck for extra support, grinning widely when everyone calls him the birthday boy and pinches his cheeks in drunken adoration.

“Mm, think ‘ve had enough, mate,” Harry slurs in Niall’s direction, resting a good portion of his weight on his shorter friend who has to tighten his grip around Harry’s waist.

“I’ll call a car, have ‘em bring you home. Need me t’come with?” Niall asks, and when Harry looks at each of his mates in their small circle, he shakes his head cheekily and smiles in Nora’s direction.

“No, I want Nora to.” It’s innocent in the way that he just wants to spend time with her, because he hasn’t even had the chance to speak to her tonight, and all he can think about is how much time has passed between them and that he misses her in a way he didn’t think was possible.

Nora watches Harry whine in Niall’s ear, and even though the music is too loud for her to make out everything he’s saying, she somehow manages to hear the words want and Nora and please. Niall looks over in her direction, and when he asks her if she’ll take him home, she considers accepting for some odd reason. Because he’s drunk and needy, and she’s never seen a needy Harry Styles before, and as if the time frame has blurred right in front of her, Nora finds herself in the backseat of a fancy town car driving off into a quieter part of the city.

They sit on opposite ends of the car with the middle seat unused between them, and after a few minutes of silence, Harry decides to break it by saying, “‘M really happy you came tonight.”

Nora’s not nearly as drunk as he is, and she finds it quite adorable the way his deep voice cracks over the slurred syllables, and his lips are bright red from his teeth gnawing into them, and his cheeks are almost a deeper shade from the alcohol surging through his veins.

“It’s your birthday. It would have been mean of me not to,” Nora says softly, watching as Harry tears his eyes away from the blurred streets and onto her face.

He grins. “I don’t think y’know how t’be mean, Nora. Not sure there’s a mean bone in your body.”

Nora just smiles back gently, unsure of how exactly to respond. Thankfully, the car pulls to a stop on a quiet street just in front of a white stucco townhouse. There’s a small iron-clad gate on the sidewalk that comes about waist-high, and when Harry unlocks it and begins his wobbly trek to the navy blue front door, Nora can’t help but look around his neighborhood in slight awe.

The jostling of keys breaks her out of her reverie, and when she finds Harry struggling to place the correct key into the lock, she calmly pushes him out of the way and flicks her wrist to unlock the door, pushing it open and allowing him to step in first.

She barely gets a chance to take in the interior of his home before he’s grabbing the keys from her hand and dropping them loudly in the bowl on the hallway table, unsteadily stepping out of his shoes and leaving them haphazardly on the floor, reaching for her hand and dragging her up the stairs to the loft bedroom above.

Before Nora can even comprehend what Harry’s doing, he’s suddenly flinging his clothes across different surfaces of his room—starting with his trench coat over his desk chair, his belt on the shoe rack in his closet, his wallet on the bureau nearest to the door. It’s only once he starts fumbling out of his jeans when Nora turns around with a squeak, feeling a bit awkward watching him drunkenly scramble out of his clothes.

“What’re you doin’?” He slurs, the sound of his feet struggling to get out of the tight material ceasing abruptly.

“Giving you privacy,” Nora explains, finding herself counting the knobs on his dresser instead of hyperfocusing on the fact that Harry is undressing behind her.

She can hear him chuckle a bit, and then the sound of a body flopping onto a mattress takes over. Harry grunts in frustration, and it’s only once he’s called Nora’s name when she peeks over her shoulder timidly, finding Harry lying flat on his bed with his shirt still on, his feet firmly planted on the hardwood floor as his jeans seem to be stuck around his knees.

“Can you help me?” He doesn’t seem to be making a pass at her, because his voice is whiny and his neck is strained, and he really seems to be struggling taking off his tight skinny jeans.

Nora laughs a bit before walking over, grabbing his jeans by his knees and forcing him to straighten his legs as she pulls. Harry watches, leaning up on his elbows as he wiggles the material off of his skin, gleaming proudly when they’re off and discarded into his hamper.

With her back to him, Harry reaches for a pair of joggers and shuffles them on, swapping his wrinkled dress shirt for an old band tee that he wore the night before. When she hears him trying to untuck his duvet from underneath the throw pillows on his bed, Nora turns around and places her palm on his back in the place just between his shoulder blades, causing him to freeze.

“Go brush your teeth. I’ll do this before you fall on your face,” Nora says through a giggle, and Harry does as he’s told, watching her through the reflection of his mirror with wide eyes as she delicately places the throw pillows on the bench under his window and pulls back the duvet and sheets pristinely.

After he spits out the mint toothpaste and waddles back into his room, Nora pats the spot on his bed that she’s left untucked for him, smiling softly as she says, “C’mon birthday boy.”

Harry grins sleepily, pushing himself on the mattress and burrowing into his pillows, chuckling when Nora pulls up the sheet and duvet until it’s tucked underneath his chin. She checks his nightstand to make sure that his phone is plugged in, and after confirming that everything seems to be put into place, she tries to wish Harry goodnight before he interrupts and asks, “Will you stay?”

Nora attempts to shake her head, telling him that it isn’t a good idea, causing Harry to try an alternative approach. The whiny, annoying kind, that usually works magnificently on the likes of Niall and Piper.

“Please, Nora! ‘S my birthday. ‘S all I want, and you didn’t get me a gift!”

Nora pauses, reading Harry’s face and finding the ghost of a smile hidden underneath his lips. She admires his tactic and decides to play along, stubbornly adding, “I didn’t know what you’d like! Not quite sure I can compete with all of the nice things your friends already got you.”

Harry scoffs indignantly. “I would’ve loved it anyway. ‘Cos it’s from you.”

“Harry—”

“—Please stay,” Harry interrupts, causing Nora to frown as she’s torn. “We can watch a film! Like we used to! I know y’love films, Nora. I even ‘ave a bunch in a drawer over ‘ere, look—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Nora rushes out, placing her hands gently over the duvet covering Harry’s chest, forcing him to lie back down on his bed. “No need to get up. It just took me ages to get you tucked in!”

“You’re right, ‘m sorry. ‘S over there.” Harry aimlessly points in the direction of his television stand at the far end of the wall. Nora nods, turning on her heel and beginning to walk in that direction, bending at her knees as she opens the drawer in question.

As she scans over the movie titles, she’s surprisingly impressed at his collection. They span across multiple genres, although Nora does note that he owns a decent amount of romantic comedies for a twenty-two year old boy. She almost chooses Ferris Bueller’s Day Off to reminisce, but those memories are jaded now, and she hasn’t seen the film since she sat thigh to thigh with Harry in his twin bed all those years ago, so instead, she plucks 10 Things I Hate About You and places it into the DVD player.

When the title screen loads, she checks on Harry over her shoulder and finds that he’s grinning from his position tucked snugly in his bed.

“Did y’know this was based on Taming of the Shrew?” he asks suddenly.

Nora pauses her act of getting up from the floor, shocked at the fact that Harry is willingly giving her film trivia that she used to provide. And when she stands up after a beat, looking down at him from the end of his bed, she smirks and asks teasingly, “Have you been studying film trivia?”

Harry just shrugs, a shy smile covering his face as his cheeks bloom pink.

She turns around then and hits play, and once the opening credits begin to roll on the screen, she rounds his king-sized bed and lays beside him on the other end, making sure to lay on top of the covers in her dress to keep a safe distance between them. Harry tries his hardest not to pout at the absence.

“Does this mean you’re staying?” Harry whispers just as the opening scene flashes onto the screen.

With her eyes trained on the screen, Nora just nods quietly, trying her hardest not to look over in his direction. And around halfway through the film, just after Patrick belts “Can’t Take My Eyes Off Of You” to Kat on the staircase, Harry looks over to find Nora sound asleep on the other side of the mattress. Without waking her up, he grabs the blanket at the end of his bed and throws it over her body, watching as she welcomes the warmth as she snuggles into it.

It’s far too early when Harry wakes up. The sun has barely started to stretch its sunbeams outside of his window, and when he blinks through the dimness of his room, he finds that the first thing he sees is Nora Priestley. They’re both lying on their sides facing each other, a little bit closer than when they first dozed off. Harry can feel their bent knees brushing against the other’s underneath their respective blanket layers, and when Harry focuses on the hand that isn’t buried under his pillow, he realizes that his fingertips are ever so lightly grazing Nora’s much smaller ones. He smiles to himself, and just before falling back asleep, he hooks his pinky finger around Nora’s.

When he wakes up a few hours later, Nora is gone. He looks around his room to see if she’s in the ensuite or banging about downstairs, and finds himself frowning when all he’s met with is silence. Just as his eyes sweep over his nightstand, he finds a note near a glass of water with two paracetamol tablets on top. He scoops up the medication in one hand, and brings the note up to his eyes with the other.

Happy birthday, Harry. Here’s the best I could do on short notice. -Nora

He glances over to his alarm clock and realizes that it’s not even noon yet, and without really thinking, he reaches for his mobile and rings Niall to ask him for directions to Niall and Piper’s residence hall.

“Curly? What’re you doin’ up before noon?” Niall’s loud voice asks through the receiver.

Before Harry can bring himself to respond, he hears a giggle that sounds almost identical to Nora’s in the background, and suddenly he’s asking, “What’re you up to?”

“Hangover brunch, mate. Sunday tradition,” Niall responds easily, the sound of the late morning air ruffling through the speaker.

“Since when?” Harry asks, straining his ear to see if he can try to hear Nora again.

Niall laughs loudly, breaking his focus. “Since always! Yer dead to the world until the afternoon, so Rah always third-wheels with Piper and I—oof! I’m just messin’ around, Rah! You know we love yer company!”

Suddenly, Harry’s springing out of bed, running into the bathroom to brush his teeth and splash cold water onto his face to wake him up. He asks Niall the name of the restaurant, and just as the words leave his mouth, Harry hangs up and throws on the first clean pair of jeans and jumper he can find, shoving a beanie over his mangled hair and flying out the door.

He arrives just as tea gets brought to the table, and when he finds that the only open chair at their table of four is the one across from Nora, he grins and slides right in, watching the way her cheeks blush as her eyes burn holes through the plastic menu.

“Any particular reason why yer up and at ‘em this mornin’, Curly?” Niall asks, a knowing look on his face as his eyes dart between Harry’s and Nora’s accusingly.

“Just felt like waking up, I suppose,” Harry says in Niall’s direction, ordering a cup of tea from the waitress as she passes by. When he realizes that Piper and Niall are indulged in their own conversation, Harry leans forward over the table and asks Nora lowly, “So, what’s good here?”

Nora’s eyebrows dart up in surprise, asking, “You’ve never been here before?”

Harry shakes his head, smiling when he coaxes a pretty giggle out of Nora’s mouth. He finds that she looks cute in the morning, all sleepy eyed and puffed out cheeks. He almost wishes he caught her before she snuck out of his flat. He would have loved to see what she looked like buried in his pillows.

“I usually get a full English and give Niall my tomatoes,” Nora explains, sipping her tea generously.

“Why’s that?” Harry asks.

Nora scrunches her nose. “Not a fan of them.”

Before Harry can say anything else to her, the waitress pops over to take their order, and when their plates arrive and the first thing Nora notices Harry does is eat a bite of his grilled tomato, she pierces her fork through the two on her plate and drops them on his own instead of giving them to Niall.

If anybody at the table notices, they choose not to say anything.

After that Sunday morning, Harry finds that he can’t stay away from Nora. He remembers lurking through her Facebook page a year ago and finding that she has a thing for coffee shops, and after asking Piper for her class schedule, he waits for her outside her lecture hall one dreary Tuesday afternoon and brings her to his favorite café a few miles away from her residence hall.

It’s called the Muddy Cup and Nora’s surprised that it’s a place Harry frequents, considering it’s the complete opposite of his personality. It’s all bright colors and mismatched furniture, uniquely shaped mugs with bluesy, light jazz music playing in the background. It smells of coffee grinds and a hint of vanilla, and after their third trip there, Nora finds that this version of Harry is just like the one she remembers enjoying during their ten days together back in Townbridge—except, it’s heightened here in London. He tells her things without hesitating, he seems to have recognized how wrong his actions were, he seems to have a plan for his life. It’s a lot all at once, but Nora takes it all in stride, constantly reminding herself not to hold grudges and to try to remember that people are continuously changing and evolving, and that if Harry is trying his hardest to let her see this side of her, then she should at least give him the opportunity to allow him to do so.

But she’s not naive. She knows that she can’t just hand him her heart without precautions all because he’s trying to show her how much he’s changed. Because underneath all of her strong walls, all of the barriers she’s constructed to ensure that she doesn’t feel pain again, she knows that if anybody has the power to weave through all of her booby traps and decoys and rattle the infrastructure, it’s him.

Harry knows this, too. Knows that even though this New Nora in front of him changed her hair and grew up a little bit, she is still guarded, and he really can’t blame her for being overly cautious of him. He’s trying though—really trying, because if there’s anybody in this world that can bring out the best version of himself, it’s her.

After a few more coffee dates and a walk around his campus, Harry finally comes up with a plan. He’s not sure why he hadn’t thought of it sooner, because he’s almost positive it’s going to be the best first date Nora Priestley has ever been on. And he wants that for her—so badly, because she deserves it.

Harry schemes with Niall and Piper to make sure that Nora is free on a rare sunny late February afternoon. He shows up outside of her residence hall in his black Range Rover, watching the way she smiles bashfully at him when she notices him leaning against the passenger door of his car, posture nothing but attractive confidence with the way his jean-clad left leg is bent resting on the steel door, the way his emerald green jumper stretches across his chest due to his arms being crossed over the thin material, the way his long hair is free flowing down his shoulders as the wind ruffles the tendrils in the cool air. He weaves his sunglasses atop his head when he sees her exit her building, giving her a one-armed hug as he simultaneously opens the car door with his other hand, allowing Nora to fall into the warm leather interior.

“Where are we going?” Nora asks after they’ve merged onto the motorway. Harry looks over at her then, one hand resting on the steering wheel while the other pushes and pulls at the skin covering his lower lip nervously. He offers her a shy smile, before muttering, “A surprise,” causing Nora to blush immediately.

Once the colorful pastel townhouses flood into view, Nora isn’t sure how she didn’t realize it sooner. The streets are winding and her nose is practically glued to the window as she takes in the flashes of raspberry, lilac, peach, coral, and mint lining Notting Hill. She can’t wipe the aching grin covering her face, and when she whips her head around to look over at Harry and finds that he’s already looking at her, it’s almost instinctual when she slips her hand into his and squeezes it in gratitude.

When Harry has to park the car, he almost whines at the fact that the moment he removes his key from the ignition, Nora’s hand will leave his own.

They spend the afternoon weaving through the crowded streets. Harry leads her through Portobello Road Market and watches as Nora’s eyes flick through racks of clothing and tables filled with various antiques and collectables. She notices Harry eyeing a gold ring from a jewelry stand towards the end of the market, and when he offers to buy them a cup of coffee from a small café across the street, Nora sneakily purchases it for him as a way of saying thank you (and maybe for another reason entirely, too.)

As Nora sips through her warm styrofoam cup of hazelnut coffee, she notices a string of bookshops across the street. She laughs to herself, her memory immediately reverting to three years ago in her tiny twin bed at Townbridge when she and Harry were cuddled up underneath her mom’s handmade blanket watching Julia Roberts and Hugh Grant meet for the very first time. She wonders if Harry is thinking about the same thing, too, but she doesn’t dare ask him. Instead, she links her hand with his and drags him to the first shop she sees, pushing the door open with her hip and letting the smell of old books and worn leather fill her senses.

Harry isn’t sure if Nora is doing it intentionally, but as they scan through the spines of books resting on dusty shelves, her hand never leaves his own. It warms his insides up in a way he’s never experienced, and he feels as if he’s floating through air, and the only thing that’s keeping him grounded is her small hand squeezing his ever so lightly.

Once they’ve rounded the end of the store, Nora looks over and asks him, “Do you have any suggestions?”

Harry’s heart thumps a resounding string of three beats, and he can’t help but wonder if she felt the same whenever he asked her to pick out her favorite films for him three years ago back in her tiny dorm room. From the smile coating the lower half of her face, Harry can assume that she most likely does, and without slipping his hand from her own, he drags her to the classics section and peruses through the titles.

Nora watches as he somehow maneuvers three paperbacks into one hand while keeping her own nestled tightly in his, and when he brings her to the front of the store and easily grabs his wallet from his back pocket, she tries to wriggle her hand from his grasp to stop him from paying for her. Harry doesn’t allow this though, and instead, shushes her by squeezing her hand tighter, looking down at her with his chin resting on his shoulder as he shakes his head with a coy smile covering his face. Nora isn’t sure how to respond—mainly because she’s mesmerized by the turquoise twinkle in his eyes, or the way his large hand wrapped around her own makes her feel overwhelmingly safe, or the way she can’t seem to look anywhere else but at the profile of his structured face. The realization strikes her straight into her heart, an electrical current causing the beating flesh to vibrate almost erratically, making her skin prickle with warmth and her stomach twist and turn with giddiness, and she finds that she never wanted her hand to leave his in the first place.

Before they even realize it, the afternoon is over. Harry intentionally slows his gait so that he can do everything in his power to extend the time he has with Nora’s hand nestled in his own and the left side of her body sidled up to his. But unfortunately, not even Harry has the ability to slow down time, and sadly, they’ve approached the car in despondent silence.

He turns her around just as they’ve reached the passenger side door, Nora’s back resting on the cool steel as she lifts her head up. Harry’s eyes are focused on their tangled hands, toying with her fingertips as he tries to figure out what she’s thinking.

“I got you something,” Nora says after a beat, waiting until Harry’s eyes are on hers before she slips the hand that isn’t knotted with his inside her jacket pocket. He watches as she removes the gold ring from the paper envelope and drops it into his palm gently.

“Nora—” Harry starts, pausing as he stares at the thick gold band with dancing bears engraved in the middle. The sun makes the metal twinkle in the light, and when he shifts his eyes into Nora’s blue pools, he isn’t sure which is brighter.

“Put it on me?” he asks. Harry knows that he’s fully capable of putting it on himself, but that would require removing his other hand from her own. Also, he selfishly wants to feel Nora’s smaller digits tickling his skin, and when she obliges with a gentle smile and grabs the ring from his opened palm, Harry tries to conceal the shudder shaking his body when she obeys his request.

“You didn’t have to get me anything,” Harry whispers into the small space between them when Nora’s fingers push the gold ring past his knuckle.

She just shrugs, looking up at him timidly. “I wanted to.”

While Harry’s eyes are focused on the newest addition to his growing jewelry collection, Nora decides to be brave and reaches up onto her tiptoes with the intention of planting a kiss on his cheek as a way of saying thank you without having to properly vocalize it. But, Harry notices everything she does, and when he watches her body shift towards him in his periphery, he lifts his head up at the last moment in question, causing Nora’s plump lips to land on the corner of his mouth.

The contact only lasts a measly two seconds, but it’s enough to cause them both to freeze. Nora’s eyes widen, and before she can let her body fall into his own, she springs back and places a generous two foot gap between them.

Harry’s not even sure what to think. He’s almost positive that he’s frozen to the pavement, his thick boots stuck in sludgy cement as he tries to bring them to move forward so that Nora doesn't feel so far away. But he can’t move—the neurons in his brain aren’t connecting to the muscles in his legs, and he has no fucking idea why.

Nora stares at him, trying her hardest to force her mouth to form the words “sorry.” But when she really stops to think about it, she finds that she isn’t sorry at all. The smallest feeling of his mouth on hers was enough to cause her body to zap with excitement, and when she looks up at him underneath the curtain of her eyelashes and find that his pupils are dilated to the fullest degree, she decides to forego her apology and leans in, pressing her lips to his with reckless abandon.

Instinctively, Harry’s arms wrap around her waist to support her body as their lips re-familiarize themselves with one another. The sigh he breathes into her mouth is nothing but relief—because ever since he left her dorm room three years ago back at Townbridge, all Harry’s been thinking about is feeling her lips on his again. And now that it’s finally happening, he feels as if he can’t breathe.

Nora’s hands clutch the lapels of his woolen jacket over his chest to bring him closer to her, because even though his body is flushed with hers, it still isn’t enough. Harry brings his right hand up to cup her jaw ever so delicately, his thumb pulling her chin down so that her jaw falls slack, allowing him to slip his tongue inside to meet her own. The moan that springs from the back of her throat almost causes Harry’s mouth to still, but when her fingertips wrap around the ends of his hair dusting his shoulder, tangling until she pulls at the roots on top of his head, he can’t help but reciprocate the sound.

When Harry’s neck starts to ache from leaning down to meet her lips, he trickles his palms from her temples to the back of her head, threading his fingers through her thick dark hair until they clasp together just above her neck, allowing him to tilt her head backward and kiss her properly. Nora hums inside his mouth, wrapping her arms around the middle of his back so that she can pull him closer to her in order to feel his heartbeat against her chest through all of their warm layers, his heart thrumming against her skin as if the fleshy organ was screaming at her own “I missed you! I missed you! I missed you!”

Eventually, they break apart, sucking in deep inhales of cool February air to try and quell the lightheadedness caused from their second first kiss. Harry rests his forehead on her own, his eyes shut tight as he tries to permanently ink that memory into the pink pillows of his brain. His warm hands are cupping her jaw in order to keep her as close to him as possible, and Nora can’t help but squeeze the fleshy parts of his arms, keeping their fronts pressed together so that the warmth that emanates from his skin continues to stay wrapped around her.

“Go to dinner with me,” Harry whispers against her skin once his eyes blink open, the fuzziness dissipating when he notices the pinkness of her swollen lips and the tinge of red coating the apples of her cheeks. He missed this. He missed her.

“When?” Nora asks, her voice hoarse from the lack of oxygen ripped from her airway.

“Right now, tonight, tomorrow. Don’t want to let you go just yet.” Nora leans in, her nose resting on his warm cheek as she giggles against the smooth skin. Harry brings his hand to rub soothing circles against her back, wondering if they could stay in this position forever.

Harry can feel her smile against his cheek, and when she moves her head to press two subsequent kisses against his ripe lips, he knows that he’s fucked. Because it’s Nora fucking Priestley—it’s probably always been Nora Priestley—and she’s here wrapped up in him nodding against his skin at his outrageous request, and Harry’s never felt this complete in his entire life. It’s like flying and falling, searing warmth and bitter coldness, being too close but still not close enough—a paradoxical rush of adoration shooting to his heart with a loud cacophonous pang that sends his brain into overdrive.

They have dinner together that night, and the night after that, and if not for Harry’s evening lecture, they probably would have gone for a third consecutive date. He takes her to tiny hole-in-the-wall restaurants that serve the best food Nora’s ever tasted, and although a small part of her was expecting him to go all out and take her to outlandish posh eateries, Nora finds that Harry knows her much better than she originally thought, and he’s constantly full of surprises.

On the next Wednesday pub night, Harry and Nora show up together. Nobody says anything, but Nora can practically feel the scorching looks Niall and Piper are shooting at her from across the table warming her cheek. And after her third beer, just as the band starts to play their first song, Niall saunters over to her side and wraps a heavy arm around her shoulder, whispering excitedly into her ear, “Knew you were special, Rah.”

Harry's insides are buzzing, whirring to life with each sip of bitter beer that falls down his esophagus. The liquor seems to make Nora a bit looser, and once she’s developed a thin layer of drunkenness that causes her cheeks to flush and her guard to falter, Harry practically explodes when she brings her body to rest against his, her back leaning on his front as she allows his warmth to envelope her as they listen to the band playing on the far side of the room. He wraps his arm around her shoulder so that his right hand is splayed out against her collarbone, holding her close in a protective stance as she lets her head fall back on his shoulder comfortably.

After three songs, Nora finds that she’s had enough. Harry’s hand feels too hot pressed against her chest, his hair feels too silky tickling her exposed neck, his chin feels too heavy sitting atop the crown of her head. She wants more, finds that she suddenly needs more, and when she twirls around abruptly and finds that his green eyes are practically black, eagerly searching for her own, she doesn’t hesitate before whispering in his ear, “Can we get out of here?”

Harry’s pretty sure his pants have never felt tighter around his waist. He doesn’t even care about the unfinished pint in his hand, doesn’t even care to make the rounds and properly say goodbye to his mates, doesn’t even care when he hands Niall too much money to pay for their drinks that are absently left on the sticky high top table, doesn’t even care about the looks he receives when he slips his hand in Nora’s and drags her through the front door and into the Underground so that they can reach his flat before her confident streak runs out.

When they’re both standing in his loft bedroom, hands tangled in each other’s hair and lips pressed to warm skin and clothes strewn against hardwood flooring, Nora finds it easier to forget about all of her past hurt. Because his hands feel that good, and his mouth tastes that good, and his warm body looks that good. But when she backs away to pull off her sweater so that she’s left standing in front of him in just her bra and underwear, she suddenly hesitates to move forward.

The memory hits her like a bullet to the chest. It’s of her, standing in her Townbridge dorm room wearing a sports bra and sleep shorts, her arms wrapped around herself protectively as she tries to stifle the rib-racking cries shaking through her body as she watched Harry disappear right in front of her face, leaving her alone to try and wrap her head around what he had done to her and what it all meant. Because he was her first real sexual experience, something that Nora didn’t necessarily place on a high pedestal, but still ultimately was a big deal for her. It took a lot of trust to allow Harry to take that from her after ten days of unassuming happiness, and just as quickly as he showed her a different side of herself, he simultaneously ripped it away when he left her alone and confused barely eight hours later in the early morning light.

It’s as if the memory is being broadcasted in Harry’s bedroom, Nora’s blue eyes the screen and her bruised heart the projector, because suddenly, her lips are trembling and her hands are shaking and her eyes are staring blankly at the wall over his left shoulder—and he knows right then and there that her walls are now ten times thicker, constructed with stronger material that will no longer allow him to seep through the cracks. Not without an explanation. Not without an apology.

“Nora—” Harry starts, taking a tentative step forward. The small motion of his feet approaching hers is enough to break Nora out of her daze, her head shaking violently as she takes three more steps back, reaching for her sweater and throwing it over her head without a second thought.

“Please, I—” Harry is panicking. He doesn’t want her to disappear, but he also doesn’t want to make her feel uncomfortable. It wasn’t supposed to happen this way. He wanted to talk to her without the cloudy sexual energy suffocating them, without her dreamy silhouette obstructing his vision, without her sudden desire to escape more prominent than her desire to stay and listen to him.

“I need a minute, we shouldn’t do this, not when—”

“—Just please listen to me. I can’t let you leave, not like this. Not when you’re finally here after all this time. And I’m not saying this because you’re standing half-naked in my bedroom, it’s just—fuck. I should have said this three years ago. I should have said it when I sent you a friend request on Facebook. I should have said it that first Wednesday pub night. I just got distracted and—”

“—Harry—”

“—I’m sorry, okay? I’m truly so fucking sorry.” Harry seems to have taken the breath trapped in Nora’s throat, because suddenly she’s staring at him wide-eyed and frozen in place, whereas Harry’s chest is erratically shifting up, down as he struggles to contain his uneven breathing pattern.

“I fucked up. I was a dumb, stupid kid who hurt you—and you didn’t deserve it. Not one second of it. I thought about what I did all the time in the aftermath, it fucking ate me alive, Nora. And I’m not saying that for you to pity me, because you shouldn’t. You shouldn’t even be here giving me a second chance, because I don’t deserve it. I never deserved your kindness to begin with. You’re too good for me and I just, fuck. I’ll make it up to you for the rest of my life if I have to. I just want to be good enough for you. And I’m so sorry—”

Nora shushes him with a collision of her body into his, her arms wrapping around him tightly as she buries her head into the crook of his neck. Harry’s response is inherent; strong arms encapsulating her smaller body, wide palms spread out evenly along her upper back for support, warm cheek nestled into the velvety waves resting at the top of her head.

“It’s okay, Harry. I forgive you. You’re enough, you deserve kindness too,” Nora mutters into the skin of his neck like a mantra of self-love and acceptance. Because even though Harry nearly broke her heart and made her resent him, she never wanted him to feel hurt, too. Not when it’s self-imposed. Not when it can be dealt with in a different way.

Nora thinks the phrase “an eye for an eye” is ineffectual. Just because you hurt somebody else, does not mean the same fate should be bestowed upon you. Humans are constantly changing and evolving, and pain and acceptance are a part of the long and winding battle in figuring out who you are as a person. If Harry is finally realizing that now, all Nora can do is hug him tighter and forgive him. Because that’s what any decent person would do.

Without unlocking their tangled bodies, Nora slowly steps forward, causing Harry to shuffle backward, until they’re both lying horizontally on his king-sized bed. She turns them over so that his back is flat on the mattress, her leg hooking over his hip as she rests her head against his beating chest, rubbing soothing patterns against the warm skin until he finally calms down.

They spend that night talking for hours. Harry wants to know everything she’s done in their three-year absence, and Nora doesn’t hesitate to give him the details of her new life in New York City. She tells him about Ebony, her roommate-turned-best-friend who supports her without question, who she misses practically every waking moment she’s not with her. She tells him about Marcus, the boy she had more firsts with, who she never found herself loving completely, but still appreciated him for helping her grow up and feel new things. She tells him about the tattoo shop in Brooklyn she went to after her twentieth birthday where a girl with pink hair and purple eyes etched three identical birds on the back of her shoulder.

He doesn’t tell her about the drinking and drugs and blank-faced girls he wasted his time with for the first two years during their time apart, because he’s aware that she already knows—considering his Facebook page holds a track record of every Nadine and Scarlet he toyed around with to fill in the empty hole Nora unknowingly carved into his heart. He doesn’t tell her that hearing about Nora’s ex-boyfriend causes the green monster who has been dormant inside of him for years to suddenly wake up, his blood laced with envy as he thinks of how somebody else got to see her in a vulnerable position he stupidly took for granted.

Harry realizes that this is a bit unfair, considering Nora lived her life without thinking about how it would affect him. And if Nora is jealous of the girls he slept with two years ago, she never shows it. Because she’s much more rational than he is—the calmness to his angst, the mooring to his shipwreck, the comfort to his unease.

They talk until the inky sky turns into an aegean blue, signifying that dawn has begun to break. Nora muffles her yawn into Harry’s neck and he wraps his arm tighter around her body, bringing her against his chest as he closes his eyes, reveling in the feeling of having her close again after so much time apart.

When Harry wakes up well into the afternoon, he can’t stop thinking about Nora’s body, considering she shed her sweater sometime in the middle of the morning when they were sleeping, leaving her in just her black bra and underwear as her warm skin suctioned to his own. He hasn’t felt this close to somebody in so long—probably ever, if he really stops to think about it—and before, when he was mindlessly fucking girls to cure the loneliness aching inside of his chest, he never cared about the act of intimacy surrounding sex. But now, with Nora’s body wrapped around his own and the swells of her breasts moving up and down with each languid sleepy breath she takes, the curve of her ass bending whenever she cuddles deeper into his chest, the stretch of her legs winding whenever she coils them around his sinewy hips—Harry feels like he’s in a fucking trance.

He never pushes it, but it’s practically all he can think about in the weeks that follow. He finds that when they’re together he always chooses a new part of her body to hyper-fixate on—whether it’s the angular cut of her jaw, the long arch of her neck, the thin layer of skin covered in gold necklaces on the top of her chest, the fleshy part of her hips that connect to her thighs—Harry feels completely and utterly famished.

Nora feels it, too. Feels that if she has to stand so close to him on Wednesday pub nights and feel the warmth of his body enveloping her own without him moving any closer, she’ll burst. Feels that if she has to observe the coiled strands of his long hair weave down his neck without her hands tangled at the root, she’ll explode. Feels that if his raspberry lips mouth her two-syllable name followed by his infamous smirk without her own swallowing the last vowel, she’ll shatter.

It finally happens as springtime infiltrates the streets of London, melting any remnants of snow and bringing forth longer stretches of sunlight on the horizon. Nora spent the week studying for a major exam in her Emerging Media Studies course, causing her to miss out on Sunday brunch and Wednesday pub night. Her absence hit Harry the hardest out of everybody, and when she walks out of her lecture hall Thursday night after she handed in her exam, she can’t help but catapult into Harry’s arms when she sees him waiting for her.

They drive to his flat and he cooks her a hearty pasta dish and when he suggests watching a movie tangled in his sheets afterward, Nora finds that she has no interest in absorbing the content on his television screen. She’s made Harry wait long enough, and it feels like the month after his birthday has been a continuous long stretch of unbearable foreplay that Nora can’t wait to act on.

Before Harry has even made it back to bed after setting up the film, Nora’s already pulled his borrowed sleep shirt over her head, leaving her in the matching navy blue lingerie set Piper encouraged her to purchase at Selfridges last week.

Nora’s never seen Harry move faster in his life at the first sight of her. She can barely make out his pupils darting from the exposed skin above the waistline of her underwear to the swells of her breasts uncovered by the lacy underwire bra before he’s jumping on the bed, her entire body shaking with the mattress as he plants searing kiss after searing kiss all over her flushed skin.

He dotes on her body, mumbling praises in between each suction of his lips as he works his way from the top of her forehead to the tips of her toes. “Christ, look at you Nora,” he whispers into the skin underneath her jawline, “All for me? How’d I get so lucky?” he mumbles into the tight skin between the valley of her breasts, pausing to dart his tongue underneath the lacy fabric covering her nipples, pulling a delicious moan from the back of her throat, “You’re fucking perfect,” he purrs into the thicker skin covering her upper thighs as he noses his way teasingly around the edges of her underwear, making her wiggle in want and need.

And when she finally allows him to slowly peel each piece from her body, leaving her bare in front of him as her dark hair fans against his charcoal-colored sheets, Harry’s almost positive he’s forgotten how to breathe. He’s never wanted somebody this badly before—needed somebody this badly before, and when Nora leans up on her elbows and urges him to come closer to her with a slow drag of her fingertip, he almost bursts at the sudden rush of his heart thrashing against the walls of his chest.

All because of her.

“I’m done for,” Harry whispers against her lips before slotting them together with fervor, gripping the skin at the back of her neck tightly to keep her close to him. Nora doesn’t mind, in fact, she absolutely loves his roughness—loves it so much that she can’t help but reciprocate when she wraps her legs around his waist and flips them both over so that their positions are switched and she can be the one to run her lips and teeth down the front of his body in domineering adoration.

Where everything with Marcus was simple and easy, Harry is the complete antithesis. He is everything new and exciting, complex and invigorating, compelling and beautiful. Nora didn’t think it was possible to feel this starved and fulfilled at the same time—but when Harry’s naked body is hovering over her own, his teeth sinking into the fleshy part of her shoulder blade, one hand gripping her ankle and the other holding her hip close to him, she finally feels fireworks burst underneath her eyelids when he enters her for the first time. Her skin feels as if it were bubbling, her heart pumping blood as if it were working in overdrive, and her brain fills with fluttering images of Harry’s chiseled jaw, his matted hair, his supple mouth, his hungry eyes.

It’s everything and more—Harry is everything and more, and when they’re spent and the white noise in Nora’s ears has finally subsided to a gentle hum, she can’t believe that she waited this long to experience this. She wonders if her first time was a dud, a faulty scenario in which her partner didn’t understand how to satisfy her properly. Or maybe, just maybe, it had nothing to do with Marcus at all. That the feeling of her heart exploding and stars bursting through her vision and fireworks cracking in the air above were solely caused by the boy lying beside her, his heart seemingly entangled with hers.

Nora wonders if it's fate or if she’s magnificently cursed for the rest of her life.

As March fades into April, Nora has never felt closer to another person before. It’s incredibly new—this feeling of freefalling off of a cliff into the rocky waters below with nothing but Harry’s strong hand holding hers to remind her that this is all new for him, too, and there’s nobody else he’d rather experience this with than with her.

Harry’s never been the best at giving himself completely over to another person, considering vulnerability is a difficult construct for his mind to wrap around. And when he lies awake at night while Nora sleeps soundly beside him, her arms wrapped around his waist and her head rising and falling with the scattered breaths escaping his lungs, he wonders what’s holding him back. Wonders why it’s so easy for her to talk about family and the future and everything that falls in between—because for the first time ever, Nora is the one that’s completely sure of something in their relationship. Harry, on the other hand, is hesitant. Apprehensive. Scared.

Because it’s so much easier to hide certain aspects of his life from her. Harry has enough skeletons in his closet to fill an entire graveyard, and they all tend to orbit around his shitty relationship with his parents and his innate desire to fall apart whenever he succumbs to the inordinate amount of pressure his father places over his head.

Nora doesn’t deserve to see that. Nobody does. So Harry does what he thinks is right and hides this part of his life from her, lying straight through his teeth whenever she questions where in the world his parents are, and instead of them being in Hong Kong or Indonesia or Dubai, they’re just a forty-five minute drive away. But that’s far too close for Harry to manage, so refocusing her brain on something else is the better option.

Because while Nora was falling hard, giving Harry the directions to make it through the labyrinth to claim her heart, she figured he was doing the same. Letting her in unconditionally and trusting her with this new feeling. But, unbeknownst to Nora, he was shielding her from the life he’s always dreaded being a part of. She was just in too deep to fully realize it.

The first lie starts at the end of April. Harry doesn’t even realize he’s lying in the first place when it falls from his lips that he has to skip out on Wednesday pub night to stay on campus and prepare for a group presentation the following Monday, but once it’s out he can’t force it back into the depths of his being. So while Nora texts him that she misses him and things aren’t the same without him there, Harry’s pushing the lie deeper and deeper inside of him until he’s swallowed the lump whole and it rests heavily at the bottom of his stomach.

Because while his mates are drinking in Camden, Harry’s only eight kilometers away in Knightsbridge wearing a navy blue suit sipping gingerly at a glass of bourbon and initiating small talk with his father’s stuffy work friends. It’s some charity event his father had mentioned in the past, and although Harry’s mind is preoccupied with thoughts of Nora, he suddenly becomes alert when his father introduces him to the only other person that is relatively close to his age.

Harry remembers her from one of the events he was forced to attend during his internship at his father’s office. He doesn’t recall much from meeting her nearly a year ago, considering he was a bit of a dickhead and was more focused on plotting ways to dip out early without being caught to meet up with his mates than trying to mingle with other guests, but now—now that she’s standing in front of him wearing a pretty mauve dress with expensive strappy heels, hair perfectly in place as her almond-shaped eyes gaze into his own, Harry doesn’t hesitate to shake her hand properly.

Her name is Jacqueline Van-Doren, and although she’s the type of beautiful that people can’t help but gawk at, Harry finds that he’s subconsciously comparing her to Nora. Her eyes have more of a greyish tint to them, and while Nora’s sparkle whenever any trace of light reflects off of her irises, Jacqueline’s are more lackluster in comparison. Her cheekbones are higher than Nora’s, but they lack the subtle shade of pink that always appears whenever Nora’s in a close enough radius to Harry. And while she’s much taller, much more confident, much more put together than Nora and all her mumbling and stuttering and clumsiness—Harry finds that he would indubitably pick Nora over a girl like Jacqueline any day.

The second lie happens in the middle of May just as the temperature is rising and the trees are green and blooming. Harry had plans to take Nora on a day trip to Bath so she could tick off another destination on her travel list, but unknowingly, he double-booked himself as his father reminded him he had a familial obligation to attend that same day in the form of an elaborate wedding at The Savoy.

He tells Nora that he has to attend a networking dinner in Oxfordshire, and somehow the lies get easier and easier to tell the more he spews them. Harry’s grateful that Nora doesn’t fact-check his excuse with Niall, but then again, she has no reason to suspect anything, right?

Harry spends the entire reception sitting in the back of the room in his charcoal Louis Vuitton suit with a sick feeling settling inside of him. It grows stronger with each candied sip of whiskey that falls down his throat, and when his father approaches him with a familiar blonde-haired grey-eyed girl practically matching his ensemble, Harry tries his hardest not to laugh. Because his father obviously is not shy in trying to set the two of them up, and although Jacqueline is still undeniably gorgeous after four whiskey neats, it’s not what he wants. She’s not what he wants.

But the pressure of displeasing his father is too much to bear, so he kisses her cheek cordially and allows her to sit with him. They talk the rest of the night but Harry genuinely has no idea what the content was, and when his father tells the pair of them that they’re required to attend an intimate work dinner at the end of the week, Harry just nods and goes along with it.

As May reaches its end, Nora can barely think straight. Her time in London has been nothing but an absolute dream—a whirlwind of newfound friendships, acclimating to her second favorite city in the world, and falling in love with somebody she never thought she would find solid ground with. She’s never felt this way about anybody before—not with Connor, not with Marcus, not with anybody. Nora isn’t even sure if her heart can feel this way about someone ever again. Not after Harry.

She’s hyperaware that her time in London is coming to an end, and reluctantly, she doesn’t want to leave. Not when she’s decided that she’s in love with Harry. Not when he can give her a reason to stay.

Nora has never unexpectedly shown up at Harry’s place before, but after rewriting the conclusion to her final essay for the fourth time and it still not making any sense, she grabs her jacket and oyster card and makes her way to the Underground to head towards Hampstead Heath.

She doesn’t bother calling or texting to alert him that she’s on her way, because in her mad rush to leave her residence hall, Nora forgot to grab her phone that was charging on top of her duvet. Nora’s never been impulsive or brash before—but it’s Harry and she’s in love, and she needs to tell him.

The white townhouse and small iron-clad gate come into view before Nora’s even figured out the words to say to Harry when he opens his navy blue front door. She figures that when she sees his face she’ll finally figure out how to explain what her feelings are, but when his green eyes meet her blues in trepidation, Nora wonders if she made the wrong decision in showing up unannounced.

In the tense silence that follows, Nora pauses for a minute, taking in Harry’s crisp white button down shirt tucked into a sleek pair of slacks. He seems to have been in the process of finishing fastening them, considering Nora can still see the tops of his butterfly tattoo and the swallows underneath his collarbones almost perfectly.

“Nora? What’re you—did we have plans?” Harry’s cheeks are blushed and he’s fidgeting uncomfortably in his fancy brogues and for the first time in months, he looks like he doesn’t want to let her inside.

“No, I uh—” Nora’s confidence is crumbling, and she’s suddenly not sure if this was a good idea at all. Maybe being brash and impulsive is a thing protagonists only do in the movies. “I had to tell you something. But this obviously isn’t a good time, so…”

Before she can turn to leave with her tail tucked between her legs, something inside of Harry clicks into place. He quickly opens his door wider and lets her in, ignoring the warning bells ricocheting inside of his brain as his brain fights with his heart for control over the situation. His heart ultimately wins in the end, and once Nora takes her first few steps inside his home, Harry can feel his insides quiver with nerves.

Nora barely makes it past the foyer, standing just at the cusp of his living room when she notices the expensive blazer thrown over the back of his leather sofa, his crisp black wallet on the fireplace mantle, and the heavy cardstock with cursive script that seems to be an invitation of the utmost importance lying parallel on the surface.

Why didn’t he tell her he was going somewhere? Was he hiding things from her? Was he ashamed to bring her to his gaudy work events? Does she really look that unappealing on his arm? Why has this all of a sudden become too confusing for Nora when just minutes earlier, she was unquestionably sure that she was in love with him?

Harry’s playing with the links on his shiny wrist watch nervously, attaching it with fumbling hands around his inked skin when Nora finally decides to break the silence. “Where are you, uh, going?”

He looks up at her, a bewildered expression on his face, and suddenly, his mouth has gone bone dry. Nora grows more and more skittish with each quiet breath that passes between them, and she’s never felt more unsure about their relationship.

God, when did things get so awkward between them?

“My dad’s back in the country, and it’s just this stupid event he’s making me go to. I tried to get out if it, honest, but it didn’t work. So, uh, I didn’t think it was a big deal to mention it to you,” Harry says quietly, feeling his lungs begin to constrict in the most agonizing way.

This lie feels worse than all the others he’s told her, because for the first time, there’s a crack in his resolve. Harry knows then that he’s done something very wrong, and he immediately regrets it all when he notices the hurt expression clouding Nora’s vision.

Nora knows this, too, because his chest is moving up and down from the thundering beats of his heart inside of his chest, and his hands are shaking against the smooth material of his pants, and his eyes are blown out so wide that Nora can make out all of the different shades of green hidden inside. And when his tremulous pupils finally focus on her own, Nora can see that Harry looks completely panicked in front of her, and she isn’t quite sure what to think.

“Oh,” Nora lets out in a soft exhale. It sounds defeated and she’s not entirely sure why, because nothing has even happened between them yet.

But maybe that’s the point. Maybe that’s why she feels so low all of a sudden. Because it’s been months of almost something’s—of days spent exploring different parts of the city and nights spent exploring different parts of each other. All without a label. All without a conversation. And now, standing in the front room of Harry’s home with shaking hands and trembling lips, Nora doesn’t understand how nothing can be said.

When her blue eyes fall to the floor, Harry springs into action. He’s in full recovery mode, approaching her slowly until the tips of his brogues bump the white of her trainers. His hands find purchase on her shoulders, gently kneading the skin until she finally looks up at him.

“I’ll only be there for an hour. We can do something afterwards, yeah? Just, uh, stay,” he pauses suddenly, eyes wide when he realizes what he’s saying before swallowing deeply, squeezing her soft skin a bit harder. “Stay here while I’m gone. Please.”

“You want me to stay here?” Nora echoes, blinking once, twice, a winsome dumbfounded expression gracing her features.

Harry nods, moving his right hand from her shoulder upwards until his warm palm is cupping the underside of her jaw tenderly, his thumb offering soothing strokes against the pink skin covering her cheekbone.

“Yeah, I do.”

Nora’s doubts are finally subsided, because how can he not feel anything towards her if he’s allowing her into his space for the first time without supervision? He obviously trusts her, and he obviously needs her—and that’s all the confirmation she needs to quiet her racing head and settle her thumping heart.

Her small hands settle on Harry’s waist and he instinctively brings her closer, cupping her jaw with his other hand so that he can angle her head back gently and press his lips against her own. It’s soft and sweet and soothing, and how can he not feel the same way when he kisses her like this?

Before they can get too carried away, his doorbell buzzes and Nora giggles when she feels him groan against her lips, shaking his head softly and backing away, looking down at her with a childlike pout on his lips.

Nora can’t help but trace the protruding flesh with her thumb, causing Harry to shiver. He’s dreading this event even more now, because all he wants to do is drag Nora upstairs and lock her in his room and turn their clock off for just one night.

But the doorbell buzzes again, and he sighs, knowing he can’t do that.

“That’s the car. I’ve got to go,” Harry whispers, giving Nora one last kiss before shrugging his blazer on and grabbing his wallet, keys, and invitation in one fell swoop.

Nora nods, a bit breathless at the sight of him. Harry opens the door, and before he can fully retreat, he peeks his head over his shoulder, long hair tucked behind his ear as he gives her one last small smile.

“One hour. Don’t miss me too much.”

As if she doesn’t miss him instantly when he leaves her.

True to his word, Harry comes back an hour later with a slice of red velvet cake he nicked from the dessert table before sneaking out undetected. He finds Nora burrowed in the thick sheets of his bed wearing the same Rush band tee he wore earlier in the day, her eyes lifting from the movie on the screen to the green of his eyes.

“Hey you,” she says softly, sitting up taller on his bed so that her back is flushed with his headboard and the tops of her thighs are poking out from underneath his duvet.

“Hi,” Harry responds, toeing off his shoes and walking over to her languidly, “Got you a present.” He drops the takeout container on her lap, grinning when she squeals and dredges her pointer finger through the thick frosting.

“Mmm,” Nora sighs, licking her finger dry as she smirks mischievously at Harry, watching as he undresses mindlessly. He isn’t sure if she’s doing it intentionally or if she’s always been a secret seductress, but when she repeats the action and swirls her tongue along her sticky digit, Harry snatches the box from her lap and slides his arms around her waist, switching their positions effortlessly so that she’s on top of him as he falls easily back onto the mattress.

“Someone’s feeling cheeky,” Harry says against her lips, his nose bumping hers repeatedly as she giggles against his skin.

“Can’t help it. I missed you,” Nora explains, adjusting her knees so that her weight is evenly distributed along his lower half, her backside resting against his front as her hands twist in between the curls along the crown of his head.

“Yeah?” Harry coaxes, his fingertips sneaking underneath his shirt as he plays with the lace material covering the bottom of her underwear.

“Always.” Nora seals her response with a fiery kiss, bringing her lips to his and pressing her entire body against his searing torso. She wonders if it’ll always feel like this—white hot electrical current shooting up her veins, warming her entire body up with just one simple press of his lips to hers.

Once Harry starts nipping at the skin of her lower lip, Nora responds by grinding into his lower half, the thin material of their underwear leaving little to the imagination as they garner enough friction to cause Nora’s knickers to dampen and Harry’s briefs to tighten.

They kiss until they’ve reached their very last breath, and when their lips depart, Harry uses this time to throw his shirt off of Nora’s body, leaving her sitting against his lap in just a nude pair of lacy underwear that makes his eyes roll to the back of his head.

With his head resting back against his neck, Nora decides to attach her lips to the column of Harry’s throat, causing his entire body to shudder as a carnal moan rips through his throat and settles between them. Her fingers draw a tantalizing path down his chest and abdomen until they’ve settled along his waist, red lines marking the path Nora’s fingernails greedily traced.

Her small palm cups his growing length trapped inside the strained cotton material, rubbing and squeezing as her teeth bite into the sharp cut of his jaw. Harry hands grip the skin of her waist in anticipation, and once Nora’s decided that he’s had enough teasing, she rolls the band of his briefs down, freeing his length in the stifling air of his bedroom.

“Christ,” Harry whispers, his eyes shut tight as he breathes through the feeling of Nora’s bare hands on his newly uncovered skin. She shushes him with gentle kisses, lapping her tongue against his own once he’s finally calmed down a bit more and begun reciprocating her tenacity.

Before he can take control, Nora makes the decision for him as she slides her underwear down her legs, flinging the thin material against his floor. Harry’s eyes snap open as he takes in the sight of her naked against his lap, the moonlight flooding into his bedroom outlining the curve of her body, the shape of her breasts, the valley of her stomach, the stretch of her legs.

No matter how many times Harry’s seen her like this, he never fails to stop and appreciate her. Because he’s taken it for granted too many times in the past, and every time he sees her exposing herself to him in the most vulnerable way there is, he can’t help but feel his heart grow in his chest, hammering against his ribs as he marvels in the fact that Nora Priestley chose him.

“What?” Nora asks shakily, shrinking into herself when she realizes Harry’s been staring at her for a beat longer than necessary.

“Nothing,” Harry admits, bringing a hand up to her face and tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear. “You’re just beautiful.”

Nora responds with a smile, pressing her lips to his tightly. “I want you like this.”

“Are you sure?” Harry asks, his hands tightening against her waist as he watches her scoot up higher on his lap so that her core is lined up with his aching length.

Nora nods, her teeth sinking into the plushness of her lower lip as she wraps her arms around his neck. Before he can say another word, she begins teasing her entrance with the tip of his cock, watching the way his eyes widen almost cartoonishly and the vein in his neck starts to pulse.

“Nora, fuck, baby, wait. I need—fuck. Need a condom,” Harry stutters, holding her tightly in his grasp as she hovers over his tip.

“It’s only been me, yeah?” Nora asks, the muscles in her thighs straining as she holds herself in the position over his length.

“What? Why would you ask me that? Of course it’s only you,” Harry says quickly, a look of bewilderment gracing his features.

“Then let’s not use one. I want to feel you like this,” Nora whispers, her hands holding his face tightly so that he has no choice but to stare into the blues of her eyes.

Harry feels his stomach bottom out, constantly amazed at the girl in front of him. “Are you sure? Have you ever done this?” he asks, disquietude lacing his every word.

Nora shakes her head. “Have you?”

“No,” he answers, much to Nora’s surprise. “I haven’t.”

“Well, Harry Styles,” she whispers, rubbing her palms over Harry’s hands that are gripping her waist, signalling that she wants him to loosen his hold, “There’s a first time for everything.”

Harry’s teeth widen at her quip, remembering the way she uttered those same exact words to him three years ago when he was experiencing another first with her. Before he can say anything back, Nora gives him one last kiss before sinking down on his length, causing his brain to forget every single thought rushing through his head other than the fact that he’s inside of her with no barrier between them, and it’s probably the closest he’s ever (and will ever) feel with another person.

They both seem to be in the same headspace, with the way Nora freezes on top of him, her throat pinching when she realizes she can feel every ridge and curve of his length from this position, and it’s only once he asks her his standard question of, “Are you okay?” when Nora starts to lift herself on her knees, before sinking back over him once more.

“Oh my god,” Harry exclaims, wrapping one arm around her lower back and the other gripping harshly at the back of her neck, holding her as tightly and as closely as possible so that he can feel every shudder of her body and every thump of her heart against his own.

Nora angles his head back so that she can crash her lips to his, swallowing his moans as she swivels her hips against his own, feeling his tip bump against the spongy spot inside of her walls that causes her toes to curl. When he expertly hits it for a third continuous time, Nora’s neck falls back as she cries out into the stuffy air.

Harry noses at the clammy skin of her neck before pressing his lips to the spot near her jaw, licking and sucking until she’s whimpering above him. “Feel so fuckin’ good,” Harry whispers against her skin, sinking his teeth deeper into her flesh when he feels her clench around him.

“I’m close,” Nora says through an exasperated breath, weaving her fingers through his long hair until she’s wrapped the strands around her wrist in a makeshift ponytail, pulling just enough to cause Harry to groan against her.

“Fuck, baby. Me too. Do that again,” he instructs, feeling himself lose control when Nora obeys his request.

Nora’s never been on top for this long before, and while her thighs are burning and her lungs are losing air the closer and closer she gets to her release, she’s never had sex feel this good before. The knot inside of her stomach is tightening with every thrust Harry meets her with, and when his right hand sneaks down between them and rubs at her swollen mound, it only takes three rotations until the knot is uncoiled and Nora’s careening towards her end.

She stills on top of him, trembling with the aftershocks as she comes down from the most intense orgasm she’s had yet. Her body doesn’t even feel like her own, with the way she’s vibrating all over and her skin is dampened and her hair is knotted. It’s only once Harry’s pushed her backward, hovering over her as she’s horizontal on his sheets, when the fuzziness finally dissipates from her vision. She’s thankful that she can finally see clearly, because when her blue eyes meet his, she watches as he slips out of her, pumping his length until white ribbons coat the skin underneath her belly button.

They’re both staring at each other with heaving chests and dotted irises, coming down slowly as they realize what had just transpired between them. When Harry finally catches his breath, he whispers, “Shit, I’m sorry I probably should have asked—”

“Shh,” Nora coos, always the one to calm his racing heart and wild thoughts. “It’s okay. That was amazing. You’re amazing. C’mere, please.”

He smiles before crashing his lips to hers, kissing her soft and slow, a thousand words spilling through their lips without their voices ever speaking them. They break away softly so that Harry can grab his discarded shirt from the floor to clean Nora’s stomach, his arm reaching for the article of clothing without getting up so that he can keep her underneath him for as long as humanly possible.

As he dotes on her ever so delicately, Nora’s convinced that he feels the same way. She argues over how to tell him in her head as he wipes at her stomach and in between her thighs, before throwing the shirt into his hamper across the room. She debates the wordage as he wraps his arms around her gently, heaving them up the bed until they’re tangled together underneath his sheets. And just when she’s about to say it, he mumbles against the skin of her neck in his throaty voice, “I wish time could stop and we could stay like this forever. Just you and me.”

Nora freezes. Because suddenly, her heart pangs with the startling realization that she’s leaving London in four days. Moments like these with Harry are dwindling away one by one, and she really needs him to give her a reason to stay.

She needs to hear him say it.

And just as she’s built up the courage to whisper her declaration out into the air, Harry’s soft snores whistle against her neck. So she pushes it down, and waits for another day.

Nora wakes up in the middle of the morning with a nervous knot lodged inside her throat. She’s not even sure what spurred this on—considering she fell asleep tucked underneath Harry’s arm feeling safe and warm, her head lulling against his chest as his sleepy breaths ruffled the brown strands of hair falling against her cheek. But now, at six forty-three in the morning, Nora feels completely unsettled.

Her skin feels hot but she’s shivering for some strange reason, and when she’s reminded of the weight of Harry’s arm wrapped around her waist, she suddenly feels weak under the heaviness of it. She doesn’t feel comfortable, and all at once she feels the urge to get out from under the stifling duvet and get some fresh air.

She sneaks away from Harry’s body, tip-toeing towards his bedroom door with nothing but her cardigan on from the night before. Just as she’s closing the door, Nora makes sure to peek at him one last time, smiling to herself when she watches him flop onto his stomach and clutch the pillow she was just using tighter into his grasp. Nora wonders if he sleeps like this when she’s not with him.

She wonders if he’ll sleep like this when she leaves in three days.

Sighing, Nora makes her way to the sliding door connected to his kitchen, plopping herself down on the brick steps of the tiny porch overlooking his back garden. With her thighs pressed to her chest and her chin resting on the oversized knitted material of her buttoned cardigan over her knees, she despondently watches the blues and oranges and yellows of the early morning sun paint a picture of this piece of London she’s grown to love almost as much as the sleeping boy upstairs.

Nora’s not sure how long she sits out in the cool June air contemplating what the uneasy feeling was that forced her out of bed, but it’s long enough for her to notice the sun rising with the rest of Harry’s neighborhood. Her stomach begins to grumble then, and the thought of making coffee and toast urges her legs to carry her back inside the flat and into the small kitchen.

Just as she’s distractedly buttering her toast, Nora feels two strong arms lock around her waist from behind. She jumps at the feeling of it, even though there’s no other person it could possibly be besides Harry. Nora’s not sure if it’s just a residual effect from this morning, but still, she leans into him when her pulse decides to go back to normal, and she can feel Harry’s nose bumping against the side of her neck.

“You’re up early,” Harry mutters in that raspy morning voice of his that never fails to make Nora’s thighs clench together. There’s just something about him in the mornings.

“Couldn’t sleep,” Nora explains, her teeth ripping a small piece from the corner of her toast before bringing it over her left shoulder for Harry to try.

He hums in appreciation. “Don’t like when you’re not with me when I wake up,” he admits, tightening his arms around her as he swallows so that her backside is fully flushed with his.

“I know,” Nora whispers, the knot suddenly reappearing in her throat without warning. The half-eaten toast in her hand is no longer appetizing to her, and when she places it on a paper towel with trembling fingers, Nora comes to the conclusion that it’s now or never. She needs to tell him—because holding it hostage deep down inside of her is causing her to feel physically ill, and she’d rather face the consequences than always wonder what could be.

Harry notices her switch in demeanor almost instantly, and before Nora can even gather her bearings, he’s spinning her around, one opened palm cupping her jaw with his thumb rubbing her cheekbone delicately while the other tucks a stray piece of hair behind her ear as he observes her closely.

“Everything alright?” he asks, nervously watching the way her eyes seem to focus on everything but his own, her hands seem to shake erratically against her sides, her lips seem even darker due to the incessant nibbling she’s done to them throughout the morning, and Harry suddenly wonders if she’s finally caught up to all of his lies.

Nora takes one last breath before bringing her eyes to his own, “I think I’m in love with you.”

Now Harry’s the one that’s panicking.

As if his brain is no longer controlling his body, his hands suddenly disappear from Nora’s face. He takes a tentative step back, leaving a cold space where his warm body was just flushed against her own. Nora watches as his skin turns an uncomfortable shade of pale, and as if they had completely swapped roles, Harry’s now the one who can’t seem to hold her gaze.

“Wait—what?” Harry unnecessarily asks. He mainly utters it as a placeholder, considering he’s let an awkward wave of silence wash over them both with his inability to say anything of importance.

Nora breathes through her nose, concerned. “I said, I think I’m in lo—”

“Why?”

Nora wonders if he’s joking.

“What do you mean, why?” Harry can feel her slowly losing her patience, her arms wrapping around herself slowly, creating a layer of armor that she’s used in the past to protect herself from his callous words.

“I mean—are you sure?”

“Are you serious?”

Sure, Harry knows that he cares for Nora with everything in his being. And sure, a part of him understands that when his heart speeds up and his chest tightens and his cheeks bloom pink whenever he’s around her, it’s all due to his feelings for her.

But even though that all stands true—Harry can’t help but be wary. Because how are you supposed to know how to love somebody when you’ve never properly been loved yourself?

His best times with Nora are always a dream-like trance Harry finds himself reliving over and over again. They’re always short glimpses of time, weeks or months with an expiration date looming over their heads because Harry can only allot himself momentary feelings of bliss and vulnerability before he realizes that his heart has the capacity to break in half if he continues on any further.

While Harry’s heart and mind battle with one another, Nora decides that she’s had enough. There’s only so many minutes she can stand in front of him watching as he silently stares at the linoleum flooring of his kitchen instead of explaining his reasoning to her. It’s only once she feels the pressure of tears welling at her waterline when she ends up slinking around him, gathering the rest of her clothes and belongings in record speed so that she can leave his home before the first tear falls.

Harry’s frozen in place. He’s still staring at the spot Nora once filled, hearing the sounds of her slipping her shoes on by the door and twisting his door knob, but none of it is actually registering in his clogged mind. He’s not sure why—he’s completely and utterly recalibrating the entire inner-workings of his head, body, and heart.

It’s only once he’s heard the navy blue door slam shut when he snaps out of his catatonic state, realizing then and there that even though he hasn’t figured out how to explain his warped outlook on love to her, he still owes it to her to acknowledge her declaration.

But he’s too late—he’s always too late when it comes to Nora Priestley. Because while he’s approached the iron-clad gate wearing just his black briefs, Nora’s already rounded the corner of his street, leaving a flurry of dark brown hair and tears staining the pavement in her path.

Harry knows that his immediate reaction should have been to chase after her, but instead, he decides to grab the first bottle of liquor he could grasp from his bar cart, slinking down onto his couch and bringing it to his lips without an ounce of food in his stomach.

This is where Niall finds him hours later, a nearly-emptied bottle of whiskey at his feet while Harry stares at the black screen of his television with blank eyes, still wearing his briefs from this morning. He’s replayed the conversation so many times in his brain that he can recite Nora’s staggered breathing patterns by heart, and Harry knows that Niall is privy to this because instead of yelling at him, he sneaks off into his bedroom and throws a clean set of clothes at his bare body.

“Up you get, Curly. Time to dilute all that whiskey with some greasy food.”

In hindsight, Niall probably shouldn’t have brought Harry to the pub down the road from his flat. But he couldn’t carry his deadweight any further, and he figured the only place that would be okay with serving somebody who was already drunk was the ancient barman that knows the two by name at this point.

“Where’s that pretty girlfriend you’re attached to?” Said barman asks the moment Harry and Niall fall into the creaky barstools. Before Niall can try and alleviate the situation, Harry’s already ordered a pint of Carlsberg and a shot of Jameson, ignoring Niall’s pleas of trying to urge a burger and chips down his liquor-ladened throat.

He’s rang Nora at least six times now, currently going for a seventh after Niall returned his stolen mobile when Harry refused to put something in his whiskey-sloshed stomach. He obliged, only because he really wanted to get a hold of her and apologize for being an absolute twat. But she’s ignoring him, and he knows deep down that she has every right to, because she trusted him with her feelings and all he did was shut her down in the worst way possible.

Harry’s not sure how Niall agreed to it, but after they’ve closed out and Harry’s capable of standing on his own two feet, they’ve somehow ended up outside of Nora and Piper’s residence hall. Harry knows that Piper has to let Niall in, so in his drunken convoluted mind, he comes up with the plan to sneak past them both and head up the stairs to beg for Nora’s forgiveness.

What he didn’t account for was Piper’s protectiveness over her crying friend upstairs.

“Harry, I can’t let you do that,” Piper says, closing the door a bit so that only her face is poking out from the glass paneling.

“Piper, please. I’ve got—’ve gotta talk to her. ‘S important.” He tries entering the building again but somehow Piper’s much smaller body blocks the entrance, her arms holding the door frame in order to keep Harry out. Niall sighs from behind her, conflicted. It wasn’t supposed to happen this way.

“Harry, you’re pissed. I can’t—”

“No! Piper, please. I need t’go upstairs. I’ve rang ‘er and texted ‘er and I know—I know her, Piper. Fuck, it’s—” he pauses, breathing in deeply and trying his hardest to straighten out the jumbled thoughts causing his entire body to shake. “It’s Nora. Please.”

Before Piper can close the door on her friend one last time, she feels Niall’s hand on the middle of her back, and she calms almost instantly.

“Let ‘im try, Pipes.”

With a final sigh, she opens the door and Harry sprints up the stairs, nearly tripping over himself as he tries to get to Nora’s door in one piece. He knows he’s drunk, knows he’s probably a mess, knows that she has every right to send him away—but he needs to talk to her or he’ll fucking explode.

He knocks about eight times on the wooden door before Nora appears behind it, eyes puffy and skin pale. Her hair is a knotted mess and her fringe is frizzy and Harry feels his chest crack in half when he realizes that he’s made her cry again.

“Harry—”

“You lov—” he hiccups loudly, causing his words to cut off the moment his body shakes abruptly. He pauses, tries to remember what he was going to say, before starting again, only to fail to pronounce the godforsaken word appropriately. “You lo’ me?”

He knows his mouth can barely utter the word, and his voice comes out a bit more squeaky than he would like, but he can’t help it. That word has always felt foreign coming out of his mouth, and he’s never understood the magnitude of its meaning. Not dead sober, and especially not after drinking the entire pub’s collection of whiskey.

Nora doesn’t say anything, but she does look into his glassy eyes and realizes that it’s from alcohol and not sadness. His hair is somehow knottier than hers and his part is amok, and she knows it’s because he ran his fingers through the tendrils one too many times. His cheeks are flushed, and before she can respond, his mouth is already opening.

“‘Cos I panicked. And ‘m sorry, but it’s just—nobody’s said that t’me before and properly meant it. Like my parents. They don’t lo—. Yeah. They don't. And me, I don’t even think I feel that way about m’self, either. ‘S just—it scares me, and I don’t know how to lo—”

“—No,” Nora says softly, interrupting Harry’s drunken monologue with a sad shake of her head.

Harry blinks once, twice, his blurry eyes trying to focus on her frame as the tears begin to bubble along her waterline. “No?” He’s confused, feels as if his life is completely off-kilter with the short utterance of a simple, two-lettered word.

“I don’t love you like this.”

Harry wonders if Nora can hear his heart begin to rip inside of his chest. “Nora—”

“You can barely even say it! Even when you’re piss drunk, you can hardly say the word love, let alone stick around long enough to hear somebody say it to you!” Her voice echoes through the small hallway of the sixth floor, and Harry stares back at her, flinching with each raise of her voice. “I can’t do this, Harry. I’d rather have you not say it sober than try and spit it out when you’re drunk. I just—I deserve better.”

“Nora please, I—you don’t understand—”

“—No I think I do. Quite clearly, actually.” Before Harry can try to force himself through the door one last time, Nora’s already begun to close it on him. “I think it’s best you go.”

“Nora! Please!” Harry calls out against the heavy wood, but it’s no use. She’s already flicked the lock, already sunk down to the floor with her back resting on the other side of the door, already begun muffling her sobs with trembling hands. And every time Harry bangs on the door with clenched fists and Nora can feel the wood shake, she just clenches her teeth on her bottom lip harder, praying with everything in her that Harry can’t hear her cry.

Harry’s not sure how long he’s stood there pounding on Nora’s door, repeating the word please enough times that it’s somehow lost its meaning. It’s only once he feels Niall’s hand on his back, ushering him out of the hallway and down the stairs, sticking him into the back of a cab when Harry feels the weight of his mistake rest heavy on his shoulders.

The only reason Harry gets any semblance of sleep that night is because he forces himself to swallow back five generous sips of whiskey before collapsing onto his mattress.

When Harry wakes up the next morning, his head isn’t the thing that hurts the most. Somehow, it’s his heart—and even though he’s suffering from the worst hangover he’s had in a very long time, it pales in comparison to the ache resonating through the inside of his chest.

But he can’t feel sorry for himself anymore. Because the longer he sits wallowing in his own self-induced misery, the more Nora drifts away from him. Feeling sorry for himself isn’t going to fix this. He needs to own up to his mistakes, find Nora, and beg for her forgiveness—because even though he doesn’t deserve her, he can’t make her feel horrible anymore.

Just as he’s rummaging through his wardrobe trying to find the cleanest shirt he owns, he hears his mobile ring for the third time that morning. When he looks over at the screen he realizes that it’s his father again, and although they aren’t very close, seeing him try to reach him a handful of times is enough to be worrisome. And just as he’s about to slip his shoes on, his father rings again. Harry begrudgingly answers, wondering what the hell is going on.

“Good to see you know how to answer your mobile,” his father says instead of a normal greeting, his voice filled with sarcasm. Harry almost hangs up the phone on him, his head filled with much more important things than dealing with another ribbing before noon.

“What’s going on? Did someone die?” Harry asks, flying down the staircase in order to locate his trainers that he remembered throwing across the floor in his drunken stupor last night.

“Very funny,” his father retorts, the sound of an unamused chuckle floating through the receiver. “Surprised you haven’t seen it yet.”

“Seen what?” Harry asks, tying the final lace as he begins the search to locate his wallet and keys.

“Page Six. Lovely spread of you and Jacqueline leaving the work event from two evenings ago. That’ll definitely make for some good press surrounding our merger with the Van-Doren’s. Well done, son.”

Harry didn’t think it was possible to feel worse, but somehow, after hearing his father congratulate him for being photographed with the girl he’s been trying painfully hard to set him up with, Harry feels as if everything around him is falling apart.

He doesn’t even respond to his father. Instead, he hangs up the call, typing his name in the Google image search bar. Sure enough, a picture of him and Jacqueline standing close enough to each other for it to be a story is covering his screen. Harry’s never felt more enraged, because he suddenly realizes that if his father has seen it, then Nora definitely has as well.

This can’t be happening to him.

She leaves tomorrow. He can’t let her go like this, not when he wants her to stay. Not when the words are practically at the tip of his tongue, ready to be shouted out into the sky. He’s ready to tell her.

He needs to tell her.

But before he can walk down his front steps and through the iron-clad gate, Niall is standing there blocking his path, a sullen look covering his face.

“Mate, she’s gone.”

*** A/N: I’m sorry times infinity. I know it must seem like I’m torturing you, but I promise I’m not! Everything will make sense in time, even though it’s a bit painful to read. My inbox is open for all complaints/theories/ill-wishes.

Sadly, the time has come that I no longer have completed chapters already written. I've tried to keep up, but real life got in the way. I have like barely half of the next part written, so I’m not entirely positive if it will be posted next Friday. I want to give you guys the best I can offer, and if it feels rushed I know it’ll be quite disappointing! I’m aiming to have it up by Friday, but if it isn't, I will surely keep you posted. Thanks again for sticking with me and this story, please be kind to each other and I’ll see you (hopefully) in one week!

taglist: @ilovegolden @stylishmuser @solllaris @ficnarry@thatnightin2008 @harryswinterberries @morethanamelodyy @coffee-doodle-doo@stepping-into-the-light @piawhat @sylcolt @burberryharold @sapphicspacecult666 @adoremp3 @beautifulletdownfics @thefangirlingbarista @iwantedmacmaddybutitstaken @veryplatoniccircunstances @live-at-the-forum@heslilac @kakayam @caramello-styles @ifheartscouldwrite @rubytersteege @mybm1998 @harrykingofcamp @cherryyharryy @15christyxoxo @harrys-cherrry @cherryruins @awomanindeniall@sing-me-a-song-harry @sunnybusiness @hhh33-3l @ashwathx@ficsthatmakemeswoon @harryinsweatersandbandanas@ihearthemcallingforyou @niallgolden @pastequeharry @tinyfelthat @70s-harry@booksncoffee @somebridgesburn @millennial-teenybopper @sunfloweratheart @cherrygoldenn @for-fucks-sake-h @pastequeharry @justhereforlurking @mellamolayla @cosmictali @zcjt @grace-ful-gold @sunflowervolsimp@15christyxoxo @rosegoldsweetpea @hawwie @ishallreaditagainsometime

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry fic #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles x ofc #1dff #1dffupdates #updates #fic: fade

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twisted-in-wonderland-jay · 4 years ago

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A Twisted Wedding

Posted this on my Instagram but I had to cut a lot out so here’s the full version!!

Notes

Gender neutral

If not specified assume a white wedding or make up your own. If the guests are not stated it’s friends and family

The wedding is in Twisted Wonderland not our world.

You choose the dress/suit you wear

If something is unclear and you wish you see what I’m talking about send me a DM and I’ll try to help.

Malleus

black theme maybe green thrown in

The ring is a unique Emerald cut (three white jewels) for his special someone

only guests are the Diasomnia gang, and parents

though he’s a prince he wants this to be a private affair.

Remembers vows perfectly, the vows are very loyal and cheesy

Lilia

family, and the members of the Diasomnia gang are guest

he goes for a large romantic ring so people know your taken

green and silver theme

At night, in gazebo lit by fairy lights

Spring time

Silver

White and light blue theme

You both wear light blue almost white clothes

Simple wedding

Sliver makes sure not to sleep during this!

Comfy and calming reception

Spring wedding

Simple classy ring with little blue and white jewels

Leona

Outside

Pear design ring

Tan (think the color of dead plants), and pastel green, and white

He wears a white suit

Lots of dancing

Probably held in the forest

NO KIDS!!

Would not invite family but you sent invites. Cheka is the ring bearer.

If you were the one who proposed he would only agree if you beat him in a fight.

Malleus would find his way to the wedding or send a couple gifts

Leona is so pretty!! Like in his Fairy gala outfit

Leona is strangely flustered seeing you

Simple vows

Grabs you and kisses you before the priest can finish saying “you may kiss the bride/groom.”

Jack

Invites a lot of people: Vil who invites Rook, and epel, Leona (who surprisingly shows up), Ruggie, Riddle, Deuce, and Cater; of course family.

On a cliff next to the sea and a forest

Gold and sliver theme gold being only accent

Tries to be tough and not cry but kinda does...

Vows include being honest, and putting us first

Cute little princess ring (square jewel)

Ruggie

Vows include something about sharing food, not having a lot but willing to give it all to you.

Tan and white wedding

Held in the fall

Blushing mess

Forgot a line in his vows

Guests: Epel, Leona, Rook, family.

Not small but nothing like Vil’s venue. He wanted you give you a good wedding but since he doesn’t have a lot he tried his best.

Really doesn’t want a lot of guests

Tan plaid vest, tan suit jacket and pants, small bow tie.

In a field of sun flowers

If you went out on anything it would be the ring it’s a Asscher style ring simple yet elegant inside is engraved with the words “forever, till the end of time”

Vil

Big. BIG!!! Venue in a castle

You both wear small gold crowns

Navy blue and gold theme

Wants you to be prettier then him😱

Ballroom dancing!!

Stay the night there

Very romantic but a small bit of narcissistic words in his vows (promises to be loyal but some people just can resist him)

Doesn’t wear over 3 inch heels at wedding because he doesn’t want to tower over you (just this once(he thinks the photos of you kissing would look awkward))

Photos for weeks posted on Magicam showing you off

Wears his hair up insist you do the same

Every student in Night Raven Collage is invited as long as he knows them (aka everyone named in the game, staff, and all students in Pomefiore)

Epel and Rook help you both get ready

Wedding is 2 months after proposal

Spares no expense

Does all the planning with you but doesn’t go to pick and dress wanting to see you in the dress on the wedding but sends Rook and Epel to help (they have good fashion sense right?)

Spa days every couple of days making sure you and he have clear, soft, and beautiful skin, hair and body.

Okay... a large romantic ring with eccentric designs

Rook

In nature

Guests: Epel, Vil, Ruggie, Azul, the twins, Leona, and Trey; family too.

Vows are very creative, and poetic

Blue suit the one he wears in the groom-for-a-day event

Doesn’t wear hat (unless you want him to)

When he kisses you he pulls his hat out and kisses you behind it

Red, white, and blue wedding

Marquise style ring

Epel

Out in the country

Spring season (late spring)

Spring decor (pastels)

Small (he doesn’t like the idea of a big wedding)

Flowers everywhere

You wear a follower crown

Guest: Family, residents of town, Riddle and the others, Jack, and Ruggie. He still has harsh feelings towards Vil so he wasn’t invited (unless you invite him)

Suit is what he wore for the Groom-For-A-Day event

Held in an apple tree forest (because of the blossoms)

Cuts hair a bit so to not be feminine

(This is a couple of years after the events of the game and (I hope) epel has gotten taller, and looks more manly(not too manly though because y’all probably like him because of his feminine looks))

Idia

White and light blue wedding

Guests: Ortho, and family (sorry but he’ll get to nervous)

Smiling a lot but a soft smile

Crying.... he’s totally crying

Ortho or Azul is best man

If Azul is best man Ortho is the ring bearer

At night, in a little gazebo

Blue roses and other flowers

White jacket, light blue vest, blue tie

His hair is in the ponytail

You wear a vail (male or female) it’s something Idia wants to do: Lift the vail or his Lover at the wedding.

Jade

In the forest

Sunny

Black and white wedding

Guests: Floyd, Azul, family, Grim (you invite others)

The shoe wedding game

Small gathering

Fun games

Simple and versatile ring

Floral theme

Jade has a lovely smile on and it’s a genuine, caring, smile

Floyd

Ocean theme

Guests: Jade, Azul, family, Ace, Deuce, Riddle, and Grim

The ring is a basic silver ring with little blue waves painted on and tiny white jewels on top of the waves

The inside says “No ocean can keep us apart”

In an under water glass room

Fish swim around the tank like room

Jelly fish decor for the lighting

Surprisingly he’s calm and not embarrassing you or him

After while your eating he whispers a comment that you are looking “fine”

Azul

Winter

All White/silver and gray

Ice skating

Azul is a blushing mess but his best man Jade is there to calm him a bit

Azul’s vows include something about him not being worthy of you, but you assure him that he’s the one for you

Jamil

Simple

Probably no guests or just a couple friends

You can invite Kalim, but Jamil might not

Inside a church (for privacy)

Kinda cries as you walk down the aisle

Black and white theme

Tells you he will always be there for you over anyone else.

Private affair

Somehow you convinced him to hold a wedding. He just wanted to sign the papers a keep it to yourself

Kalim

A party right after!

Lots of food and fun

Lots and lots of guests

But it’s a cute white wedding

The reception not so much...

Spares no expense

In his vows he tells you he won’t party to much and how much he really really loves you

Riddle

Fancy

Red and gold!!!

Mostly red

Groom-For-A-Day suit

You wear a rose flower crown

In rose garden some painted some not

Your vows are beautiful he almost cries

He invites his mother even though you don’t like the idea

Guests: family, Heartslabyul, Malleus, Sebek, you invite Floyd, Jade, and Azul for fun, sliver, Lilia, and Che’nya.

Big wedding for not like Vil’s it has its quaint charm to it.

A lot nicer then you though, though we all know Ace would do something to result in “Off With Your Head” though Ace tried his best not to.

Ace

Sneak out of your own wedding

Red and Black theme

Wears the ghost bride suit but hairs not tied back

Guest: Heartslabyul, Floyd, Jamil, family.

Probably does the conga line dance

Fun time

Ring is emerald cut

The Heartslabyul gang asks after being told your getting married If your sure you want this one? You whole heartedly say yes.

Cater

all of his magicam followers on a live stream, the Heartslabyul gang, family, Vil, Jack, Kalim, and Lilia.

White and red

In a church

Winter

White roses and red daisies

Crazy vows just some random stuff he came up with

Lots of dancing!!

White and red suit

NO RED ROSES!

Loads of gifts

Cute ring pear shaped gold accent

Trey

Light green and white

Light green is accent

Cute vows remembers every line even though he’s flustered

In a Church

Too cute

Guests: Heartslabyul, che’nya, and family.

Deuce

Blue and gold

Star theme (maybe it’s because I love the wish upon a start event)

Rents out an observatory

You can see the stars clearly

So romantic

Vows have something to do with loving you to the end of the universe and back

Slow dance under the stars

Romantic?! What we’re talking about Deuce right?!

This is after Deuce stops getting flustered by just talking to you.

Sebek

Medieval theme

You can’t tell me this man doesn’t love the medical Europe aesthetic of Knights and Princess

You have to wear a crown

You both run under swords to the carriage/car

Traditional vows and promise to protect you

Surprisingly doesn’t talk much about Malleus

Guests: Family, Riddle and the Diasomnia gang

Malleus gives many gifts

Lilia is so happy and proud of him even though he didn’t raise the boy

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riverdale-retread · 3 years ago

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Riverdale S5 E13 (Coyote Ugly)- 5 Things I loved/ 3 Things to consider

I loved a LOT of things about this episode, so I might have to cheat on my loved-it count. Indulge me, please.

Things I loved

1. I loved that Tabitha totally belongs and fits in with these crazy OG Riverdale people. Tabitha asks Betty, the crazy girl, to not “do anything crazy,” while doing crazy things with Betty, herself. Why Tabitha does this, we don’t know yet, but she absolutely belongs with these people. For fancy-school-educated beautiful Tabitha, with her neat puff sleeves and delicate frame, to go all in with Betty Cooper, fake FBI agent, trying to hunt down a serial killer is insanity. To agree to open up her business premises and offer up her own body as bait for this known serial killer is insanity. To be aware that Betty has caught someone who was acting violent, but to go alone, and also unarmed and apparently without having told anyone, is insanity. Tabitha is very, very interesting. Oh and she drives the most amazing car.

2. “Reggie, You’re A Genius!!” and Veronica is not being even a little bit sarcastic. Reggie Mantle’s air punches every time either he or Veronica close a sale really just cheered me up no end. He’s just so exuberant and physical. He’s already stated that he is good with numbers and he has a lot of ideas and he’s finally, at Pearls & Posh, getting a chance to let those parts of himself bloom. I loved the beautiful jewel tones that Reggie and Veronica wear throughout the episode, and the way they become ever more color coordinated. I just love the two of them teaming up and dismantling Hiram’s scam one brick at a time.

3. All the Cheryl things, basically, I loved them.

-“Compulsion Thy Name is Kevin of Finland” is a line that had me hooting. And the fact that Kevin, in the right clothes, totally has the body and jawline to be a Tom of Finland illustration is just icing on the cake. Cheryl has been keeping a very close eye on Kevin his whole life, honestly, like a dangerous sort of fairy godmother. Cheryl in a checked version of her little red riding hood outfit walking out of the misty blue forest! What a beautiful shot.

- I did not love Tabitha having to say, “Hot Ladies, dancing on the bar, fully clothed, of course,” but I *did* love Fang’s groaning in response, just so put upon. I did this simultaneously with the character, so I appreciated that. I did love the glorious amount of cleavage that Cheryl the minister and cheerleading coach insists on putting on display while IN a high school. Her sartorial choices felt like a vengeful commentary on the mores of American television. I would much prefer to see tits on my TV than blood & violence, so the fact that an entire severed leg, a ghost of Christmas past with bullet wounds, and a man getting his face smashed in by a furious fit young man armed with brass knuckles can be shown in full but hot ladies dancing on a bar must be fully clothed irritated me.

So yes - I said a whole bunch of words to fancy up the statement that I loved seeing Cheryl’s cleavage.

Sidebar: Also why does it gotta be only ladies? I think Fangs was fishing for an invitation.

- “I caught them (Moose & Fangs) having wine & cheese” - “Ew that is diabolical.” OK so when you’re in that mindset where you want to ‘win’ the break up but you’ve lost, this sort of hyperbolic reaction is exactly what you want from your female friends, and Cheryl doubles down with, “You did nothing wrong.” Why has Kevin never declared best friendship with Cheryl?

4. I loved that the show gives me permission to do what I’ve been doing already, which is that I absolutely despise Uncle Fucking Frank. That asshole, who claims to understand battle trauma and love dogs, brings home a traumatized dog which deserves to have stable people look after it and be aware of its issues, and doesn’t tell his housemates who aren’t even getting basic mental healthcare, one of which is a nephew he is mooching from for room & board, about the dog’s potential problems. Absolute failure garbage human, and I am elated to have this affirmed. Everything Frank does makes Archie so much worse, and Archie does not trust Frank fully either. Loved this too. Archie lies to Uncle Fucking Frank about ‘Bingo.’ He was a dog, he says, and then says that Eric does not like to talk about the dog so Frank won’t go mentioning him to Eric.

5. I loved the musical numbers, each for a different reason.

- Coyote Ugly Bar Top Dance: These terrifying, formerly terrorized children of Riverdale thrill me and break my heart. Everyone just tosses themselves at danger. Cheryl, Veronica, and Betty are all women who’ve had the experience of being hunted, terrorized, gaslit, stalked, sexually assaulted, having to fight for their lives while under attack from a much bigger assailant, etc - just *all* the bad things, really - but with the promise of a good time (lyrics actually say: How Can I Resist?) they will make themselves live bait for a serial killer.

- Everything Is All Right from Jesus Christ Superstar. I love Kevin’s singing, always. I also adored Penelope Blossom hating the musical interlude, she’s great. This song is also meant to be ironic, in the show, from my memory, because in context things are NOT all right. Mary Magdalene was wrong. They’re showing Kevin and Fangs making up, they’re showing Veronica and Reggie making a sale, Jughead was not in this episode at all, so this was quite arresting from a show perspective. The song is disquieting, with minor key elements, and so it’s a little uneasy, you know? Things are not all right, at all.

3 Things to Consider

a) “This award is a painful reminder of all that I haven’t accomplished.” Kevin breaks my heart but not in a campy tingly way. The feeling that I’m supposed to be somewhere better than this, doing something more than this - it’s so painful and real. I’m you, Kevin. “This can’t be my life, it just can’t be.” This seems to be the theme of the post time-jump Riverdale, but it feels more visceral because of what’s happening in the real world on the date of airing (Fall of 2021).

b) Bingo being a person, not a dog, puts an entirely different and devastating cast over the dream-dialogue between Eric and Archie. According to Archie’s subconscious, Eric is basically saying, “Leave the other man for dead, and save me and only me.” In the football field dream, Eric was transformed into Jughead, who just needed a little help, and had to be fireman-carried to touchdown. Eric insisting that he be prioritized over the unfortunate Bingo goes some ways to explaining the bond between Eric and Archie as well.

c) Archie Andrews is terrifying, and this adult Archie is fascinating and arresting to me. “I don’t want this scumbag arrested! I want him hurt” is the most honest thing Archie has ever said on the show. And when he says, “I’m trying to save this town, but it’s so corrupt, broken, full of awful, despicable people. I think there’s nothing worth saving here,” Archie is very reminiscent of the Dark Hood/ Hal Cooper, actually. Archie scares the worthless Uncle Fucking Frank so much that U.F. Frank can’t even say, “Nobody asked you to save the world, Archie, just save yourself.”

#riverdale s5 opinion #riverdale positivity #It's interesting to experience Riverdale's actual episodes a month later than the states-side viewers #all the stuff that comes up on tumblr is so entertaining but disjointed like reading telegrams sent via bottle all out of order #because I'm in a lighthouse in the middle of the sea #reggie Mantle #cheryl Blossom #Tabitha Tate

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theobxhummingbird · 4 years ago

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Caught by the collar. -JJ Maybank x Reader

(GIF credits to owner)

Summary: Outer Banks’ famous flirt, unnoticeably falls in love with his workplace’s introverted girl.

A/N: Anonymous asked: Hi!! I'd like to request an imagine where JJ falls in love with an introverted girl, shy and lowkey - so basically she is his opposite, and he realizes that the way he usually flirts with girls wont work in this case... but she falls for him eventually and they get together. Just some cute fluff. 💕

Here it is anon, I hope you enjoy this imagine, thank you for requesting it. I don’t know if it’s something you asked for, but I tried my best. Please write to me if you would make any changes.🥰 *REQUESTS ARE OPEN, JUST GO TO ASK ANNIKA*

---

It was another, of JJ’s least favorite days. The sun was work-class’ biggest challenge, but they couldn’t go against anything because the money that needed to go to their families can’t wait for lazy people. And JJ, being JJ, pushed by his father to bring home some money so he could drink them or smoke them away, was sent to one of Outer Banks’ most favorite flower gardens, to lift bags of fertilizers and soils.

His whole body was shaking since he hadn’t eaten for days now. But the boss was there and observing the work they’re doing. He wasn’t any type of Kook, maybe somewhere in the middle, but he gave small jobs to people who needed a bit of money for living a day or two. But for JJ, everyone who gave jobs to other, was a Kook.

He thought his whole life ended, since he had carried more than 50 bags of soil and fertilizers. That was it for JJ; giving up was the only way he’ll stay alive and continue with living his normal teenage life, careless and free. But when he thought about the pain of his dad’s fists against his young body, it hurt less than the lack of air he got while working.

Until, she walked in. Hair falling off her shoulders, as she tied it in a messy bun. Her smile grew bigger, at the man stood behind JJ. She politely greeted the older workers, wishing them an easy work, and hugging JJ’s boss. Their smiles and eyes were the same, and it wouldn’t be hard for anyone to realize that they’re related. But she was then, gone behind the amounts of trees and flowers. And JJ didn’t even notice it; he was caught stunned in a second and didn’t even realize she wasn’t there. Regret heated his brain and he had nothing to do in the moment to find her and at least ask the girl for her name.

-JJ! -someone yelled his name. He turned around to find his boss, gesturing him to come over. He shook off the dust from his hands and jogged over. -Can you please, carry the flowerpots to the center of the flower garden please?

-Sure, of course Mr. Y/L/N. -said JJ, immediately getting to work. As he approached, what JJ supposed was the center of the flower garden, he heard a few quiet mumbles. But as he approached it more, they turned into clear sentences. He stopped in his tracks, to take a peek behind the big tree.

-You should be strong, really, really strong. So kids could love and cherish you, every day they play in their gardens. And you also need to stand tall for them; and their families will be motivated to continue life, even with the amounts of difficulties they go through.

JJ was stood there, taking in ever word that came out of her mouth. And was more surprised that they came out of the girl that took his whole heart in just first sight. She was full on, having conversations with the flowers.

-Y/N! Y/N! -many kids came running to her and surrounding her on the beanbags.

-Hi, little sweet peas. -she greeted them.

-We want you to teach us about meaning of the Forget Me Nots flower, pretty please. -the little one put his hands together and pouted at her.

-Okay, I will. -she smiled at them and all their concentration was on her, -Hmm...the flower has powers, to protect humans from witches, for example symbolizing luck and protection. It means true love, and if you give this flower, to someone you love it means you respect them. It’s a promise to the other person, that you’ll never forget them. Being truthful to them and expressing the long-lasting connection that’ll never be shaken.

-Thank you Y/N, I’ll give it to my mum. -said one of them and they all happily separated around the flower garden.

For JJ who was still stood with the flowerpots behind the tree, felt a different excitement, something he had never felt before. This feeling was strange and foreign, and he knew it wasn’t going to be that easy for him to get closer to her. She was nothing like those Tourons who were easy-minded to get closer to; rather she was as precious as a flower.

And not only was it strange for him to feel something, for a person that’s not really his type, but also suddenly questioned why he softened at her view and how she didn’t reject the kids from telling them, about the beautiful meaning behind a beautiful flower. JJ collected the strength, and showed up in her view. Her shyness could be read in her eyes, and her cheeks immediately bloomed into a shade of pink. She continued with taking care of the flowers, and JJ spun around to see where to put the flowerpots.

-Sorry, -he said, catching her attention, -where do I put these?

-Uh---she rubbed the back of her head, -put them beside the counter.

-Thank you...-JJ gave her a smile and did as told.

-----

-How was work? -John B asked, placing two plates on the table for him and JJ. JJ, being hungry, he dived into the food his friend made filling his mouth with big bites. -Slow down champion, there’s enough food.

-It was the best work day I’ve had in my life so far.

-Something different happened today, or did they give you more money?

-That and something way, way different. -JJ talked with his mouth full.

-What’s up?

-There was a girl; the little kids she tutored on flowers said her name, but I couldn’t make it out from their little baby voices. John B----she was the most precious thing I’ve laid my eyes on. She was like this---magician, that suddenly made everything many times better and lighter in the flower garden. You should’ve seen, how the kids took in everything she taught them. It was breathtaking.

-Did you talk to her or something?

-I just asked her where to place the flowerpots.

-That’s it? -John B made and unimpressed face.

-What, bro? I didn’t know how to approach her.

-You? JJ? Maybank? Didn’t know how to approach a girl? Unbelievable. Dude, you’re the biggest flirt on this island, approaching a girl is a piece of cake for you.

-Well, see, it wasn’t. She’s different. Different from the ones I flirt with. You can tell, by just the look in her eyes, dude. That princess isn’t just blankly titled with the word; she really is one.

-Woooow, JJ Maybank fell in love with a completely opposite girl of him. I could see it and not believe it. Love really caught you by the collar bro. -he teased his best friend, -Huh, also, Kie’s coming over with Sarah later; they wanted to introduce us to their very good friend.

-They’re bringing her to the kegger, we have one tonight. -he downed the left over water in his cup and walked to the kitchen to leave his empty plate in the sink.

----

Kie and Sarah got ready together, picking up their friend from her house on their way to the kegger, like decided. She was sat at the back of the car, playing with her fingers. Nervousness had trapped her in a cage and she couldn’t slow down her beating heart. As Kie stated, she wasn’t a kind of person, to freely go to unknown places in crowds with unknown people. And they even hardly persuaded her into meeting the other three boys, of the Pogue group.

John B was talking to Pope; both of them discussing about the minimal number of people that started to attend keggers, while JJ was going in for the drinks of course. Kie stayed with her friend, and Sarah went to collect the boys so they could come and meet her.

-John B. -he said, shaking her hand.

-Y/N, nice to meet you.

-Pope.

-Y/N.

-There’s another one, but he’s---said Sarah, waving at JJ as he came in her sight, -coming here, right now.

-This is JJ. -said Kie, introducing the blonde to Y/N. From the second his eyes recognized her face, they slightly widened and he got that same excitement as earlier. It was because of the same girl he saw at the flower garden and talked to John B about, The girl that rearranged his entire system.

-Y/N. -she said shaking the bemused boy’s hand.

-JJ. -he held a longer grip of her hand.

The whole night, JJ didn’t even look at another girl; his eyes were glued to her shy figure. She didn’t have those famous red, plastic cups in her hand like the other two girls and she talked less than them. It was too obvious Y/N wasn’t used to these kinds of gatherings. The looks and glares she got sometimes, seemed to make her too uncomfortable, so from time to time she scooted closer to the group, as if she’s hiding.

-...and then Sarah and I somehow, decided to get matching everything, themed, are you ready?....dolphins...the theme was dolphins and I couldn’t be more happy about it. -said Kie.

-JJ. -Pope nudged him, -JJ. JJ.JJ.

-Yes. -he snapped out of his thoughts.

-What yes bro, I didn’t even ask you a question? -Pope laughed following his gaze to see what he’s looking at, as his eyes land on the quiet girl opposite him.

And many more days like the kegger passed by. The Pogues got to know Y/N a bit more, and she seemed to get comfortable around them. She did wood figurines with John B, talked science with Pope, went shopping with Kie and Sarah and got the new taste of the outside world better, and it definitely felt way more fun to her to be able to have an activity outside her room or the flower garden.

All of them were so welcoming and she appreciated the time spent with them, but if she was to choose, who made her the happiest, it would be that blonde that she saw every day at the flower garden. They went surfing together, got ice cream; JJ attended her flower teaching classes; Y/N helped him with work, they made food together, caught fish and many many more activities. He helped her fight the shyness away and was more than happy to have a friend like him.

But, that ‘friend’ started to slowly leave her, when she unnoticeably stared at him for way too long, or would wait for his text so she could peacefully go to sleep. She felt so happy next to him and somehow always wanted to spend more time with JJ.

-Y/N! You need to come to the Chateau like right now, JJ got into a huge fight with some Kooks, his whole face is bleeding, we literally soaked three cloths in blood till now. Please come, he keeps saying your name. -Kie shouted from the other side of the phone.

Panicked Y/N barely tied her shoes, trying to get to the Chateau as fast as possible. It was nighttime and she didn’t care about the lack of people on the streets; the only thing she had in mind was helping hurt JJ. She entered the Chateau and fairy lights lit up the whole place. On the ground, there was a white carpet on leading to the house and a flower. She immediately knew what flower it was and when she lifted up to read the note; her eye catching another flower not too far away, then another one and another one, she collected a lot of notes and a whole bouquet of forget me nots. The notes were:

“YOU”

“ARE”

“THE”

“ONLY”

“FLOWER”

“THAT”

“MAKES”

“THE”

“BOUQUET”

“IN”

“MY”

“HEART”

“STAY”

“ALIVE”

She came closer to JJ, him holding the last note and the flower. Y/N took it from the flower and opened it to reveal more writing than the other notes. JJ on the other hand, wasn’t in his every day clothes; he tried his best to be elegant but with his own style.

“I never saw this coming, but definitely looked forward to it after. Y/N, you’re the most insanely unique girl I’ve laid my eyes on. Would you let us both, complete this bouquet?”

Y/N looked up at JJ with her nervous look and it took her only a second to nod with her head in agreement. She loved him and he loved her and if she was to let her shyness get in way, then it meant her pushing her love away. His worried expression softened and he slowly stepped closer to her and passionately placed a kiss to her lips. The other Pogues got out and cheered for Y/N and JJ.

-New love is born Poguies! -shouted Kie.

-Yeah baby! -Sarah jumped, -Let it be love!

-I say the same thing. -JJ said to Y/N and cuddled her on his chest.

After all, Y/N changed JJ and JJ changed Y/N, both of them becoming each others most love persons and it was enough for them to be together. That Forget Me Nots bouquet was safely placed and taken care of in their hearts.

#jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj x y/n #jj maybank x you #outer banks imagines #jj x you #john b routledge #pope hayward #sarah cameron #kiara carrera #jj maybank imagines

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stayndays · 4 years ago

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𝐊𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐑 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟏𝟒: Kudos, Golden Trio

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆! This chapter includes:

Injury/Blood

Foul Language (This most out of all the chapters)

Most Likely Incorrect Terms for Driving (I can’t drive yet)

𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏��𝐈𝐒 : “You came here to assist your boss at a party he’s invited to, not to solve a murder with a group of strangers you’ve just met. Yet here you are, staring at the dead mansion owner who hosted the party in the first place, surrounded by eight men with high statuses in society: and one of them is a murderer. The question is who? And can you solve the mystery without being killed yourself?”

Visit the masterlist first before proceeding. It has all the info you need to read this series.

“Fuck you!” You shout at the killer before hurling one of your shoes right at the car’s window. To your utter disbelief, it somehow works, and the shattered glass falls all over the driver’s seat. You and Jeongin rush to enter the car through the window, Hyunjin trailing behind a split second later after figuring out what you two were attempting to do.

Hyunjin lets out a yelp once he realizes his jacket has been slashed by a throwing knife, but he’s quick to pick up the knife from the dirt and continue running. By the time he’s dived through the small hole, you and Jeongin are in the back seat, your exposed legs getting scratched with tiny shards of glass as you attempt to wipe them away from your seat. Your side of the car, however, is the one closest to the killer, which worries you greatly.

“FUCK! We need the key to start this thing!” Hyunjin exclaims in fury, clearing panicking as much as you two are. “WATCH OUT-”

Crash. The front window falls apart right in front of your eyes, and you could barely cover them in time for the glass to explode all around you. The three of you duck away from the windows from that point on, you in particular trying to stay in the middle of the seats. You whine with desperation. If the three of you bail on this plan, you lose your head start and will likely all get hit by Minho. It’s practically a lose-lose situation, and there’s nothing you can do about it.

“Not a very smart plan, huh?” Minho grins as he prances over to the car, his eyes targeting Hyunjin. Jeongin starts to hyperventilate, realizing how terrible of a mistake this was. He hides his face with his hands and stays in the corner, mumbling jumbles of words.

“I’m sorry, I’m so, so, sorry-”

“THE KEY!” You scream out, your eyes lighting up when you remember one crucial part of your search. “The one that we deemed useless, try that one!”

Hyunjin’s mouth forms an “o” shape as he scrambles to fish out the key from his pocket. He grips the key and inserts it into the hole, twisting his wrist.

The engine revs up, and you almost let yourself relax and let out a sigh of relief.

And then you remembered: Oh, the killer’s still there.

“DRIVE!” You yell at Hyunjin’s ear, and he hits the pedal immediately, turning the car around so it’s now facing the opened gate. The car lets out a screeching noise as Hyunjin accelerates the car’s speed, speeding his way out of the mansion’s fenced off area.

Minho’s tricks don’t stop there, however, as he manages to break the other side of the car’s windows. The side Jeongin happens to be on. More glass comes tumbling into the vehicle, pouring onto Jeongin’s head.

“I-” Jeongin cups his right eye with his hands. “I can’t see! Fuck, the glass!”

You turn to look at the window behind you, which is somehow still intact. Locking eyes with Minho, who continues to run faster and faster, you gulp nervously. “Drive, Hyunjin! Faster!”

Hyunjin grinds his teeth at your demand. “I’m trying, Y/N!” He grips the steering wheel tighter, determination filling him. “We’re almost there, we’ll be okay!” The car makes its way to the turn Minho was referring to earlier, and your hands start trembling with anticipation. You turn to look at Jeongin, but the sight makes you wince with pity. Blood is dripping down the hand holding his injured eye, his other eye letting out tears instead of blood, and you rub his shoulder to comfort him. Hopefully, at the end of all of this, Hyunjin can treat both your hand and Jeongin’s eye.

“YES!” Hyujin shouts, pumping a fist in the air, as the car zooms past the goal Minho set for the three of you. He continues to drive while you look back to find Minho, only to see him walking back to the mansion without a final, single glance at you. The car eventually stops to your dismay with Hyunjin needing to hit the brakes, and his eyes furrow together, opening the car door to inspect the vehicle.

When he returns, he lets out a sigh. “Looks like he damaged a tire, must’ve been his last attempt to stop us.”

You nod in agreement while Jeongin catches his breath, processing what just happened. “The worst night of my life,” Jeongin lets out, his head falling back onto the seat.

“I second that, but unfortunately, we’re a bit screwed.” Hyunjin’s comment gives you an unsettling feeling in your stomach.

“And.. Why is that?” you muster the courage to ask him.

“Look at the mansion,” he nods his head in the direction of the house. You and Jeongin turn your heads simultaneously to get a look at it.

It’s a raging fire by now, escaping through the windows upstairs. Jeongin gasps, and you let out a curse from under your breath.

“We’ll definitely go to prison for that...” you realize, but you don’t have enough energy to freak out over it right now. “Well, if we go to the police right now, we’ll basically be turning ourselves in.”

The three of you sit in silence for a while. You didn’t expect this reaction when you fantasized about all three of you managing to escape; instead you expected celebrating and smiles on everybody’s faces.

“Do you two want to…” Hyunjin starts to suggest. “Stay at my place for a while and hide there?”

“Yeah,” Jeongin timidly responds, earning a pleased hum from Hyunjin. “Sounds good. Okay, we can do that.” The tiniest smile forms on all three of your faces, nodding at each other in content.

“We escaped… we did what we wanted to do all along…” You start quietly speaking.

The images of the five other innocent members coughing in the flames and their bodies burning, along with Minho staring at the mansion proudly sets you ablaze. You finally let your tears fall, letting out a sad grin and looking down at the hand with the knife right through it.

“But at what cost?”

ENDING ACHIEVED: “At What Cost?” (SUCCESS?)

This ending is achieved by escaping the mansion with all your alliance members, but leaving the rest of the group behind with an unknown fate, along with letting the Killer King run free.

Congratulations. Technically, you didn’t die, so you were able to escape the mansion. With that being said, however, I’ll have to let the author out of her room, and let her get back to her blog. She’ll be answering asks sent after this chapter is posted.

Thank you for the fun October! Maybe next year I’ll return?

Kudos, players. The Killer King spared you today.

[ PLEASE TAKE ONE FINAL SURVEY TO WRAP UP THIS SERIES. ]

(best name of last chapter: “Fuck u Minho I knew u werent cool enough to dab (uwu)”)

WHAT’S NEXT?

Sometime these next few days, I’ll release a post explaining as many clues and red herrings in this series as possible, so be on the lookout for that!

Other than that though, the blog will actually be completely revamped (new theme!), and from November 1st to November 14th, I will be taking a break from posting my writing! (I need it very badly, I’ve been driving myself insane by writing 1k+ words every other night in 2-3 hours)

Thank you from the bottom of my heart for reading this series! I hope you all had a good October <3

taglist: @desertofdessert @crscendoforsung @cotccotc @leggomylino @skzctnightnight @freckledberries @nizhonimoon @hanniiesuckle17 @binniesbabybear @tsuki-moons @lbxgsunshine @csbverse @mangoisawesome @peachyhan @worldtriiiip @golden--rain @bubblyjisunq @kimpchi @loey-letters @pokyloky @wherevermyway @avrea-tt @bossuns @sunoo-luvs @katherineee19 @ph0ebevix @qt-k1mb @444scb @grandmasterslickfox @k-pop-valda @skzwriternet

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alyblacklist · 5 years ago

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Ressler & Liz and the “light”

There’s been a lot of discussion/debate both here and on Twitter about JB’s recent end-of-season interview where he discussed that final Ressler/Liz scene of “Brothers” and said:

The original break of the story, [Ressler] did call Red and – and that’s what the original move – that’s what the move is, you know, and with where we were going in mind, it felt like maybe we need to – you know, it needs to be her that he calls and that’s actually my favorite scene in the whole episode. I thought she was fantastic and – and, um, their sort of relationship this season has been very unusual and – and as she’s sort of drifting away and - or closer to, you know, whatever is this sort of organic, you know, DNA part of her, he’s this like light that is – represents good and the Boy Scout and all the stuff and, and um, I think that’s why he’s sort of become more interesting to her, uh, more special in a way, because of the contrast, you know, that juxtaposition. I think it’s interesting, their relationship’s interesting.

Below are my thoughts on Jon’s reference to Ressler as a source of “light” for Liz and why I was happy to hear him say it and felt it was consistent both with the evolution of those characters and their relationship over the seasons. I welcome constructive discussion (and criticism), but it’s no secret that I am a Ressler fan, and a Keenler shipper, so if you absolutely hate one or both of those things, you probably won’t like this post (also fair warning - it’s a long post).

The show continually draws on the classic literary themes of light and dark, in which “light” typically represents good, positivity, happiness, hope etc. while “dark” typically represents bad, negativity, sadness, despair, etc. Each of the main characters have struggled internally with balancing the light and dark over the seasons but for purposes of this post, I am focusing on Liz and Ressler.

In Mako Tanida (1x16) when Ressler was hell-bent on revenge for Audrey’s death, Red warned him:

“Agent Ressler. Once you cross over, there are things in the darkness that can keep your heart from ever feeling the light again.”

In the back half of Season 5, when Liz was basically in the same situation that Ressler was in back in S1, Red similarly cautioned her in Ruin (5x09):

Red: I want you to promise me something. Liz: What? Red: That you’ll grieve. Liz: Of course I’ll grieve. What is this that you think I’m doing? Red: I think you’re running away from your problems when you should be facing them. I’m sure it feels like you’re staring into an abyss, but until you mourn, you won’t be able to cross it. Liz: What’s so great about crossing it? What’s on the other side? Peace? Tranquility? Red: Some. Liz: I prefer revenge. Red: That’s what I’m afraid of. Liz: Really? ‘Cause imagining what I’m gonna do to Tom’s killers is the only thing that gets me out of bed in the morning. Red: Don’t just go off and hide in the dark. Wherever you go, look for some light.

Red knows this struggle all too well, because he has already gone down that path. He’s already landed in the darkness, as he explained so eloquently to Liz in Luther Braxton (2x09):

Red: It may be hard for you to imagine, but I once had a relatively normal life– bills to pay, playdates, family, some friends, people to care about. Lost all that. Liz: Lost how? Red: In Mexico, there are these fish that have colonized the freshwater caves along Sierra del Abra.They were lost. They found themselves living in complete darkness. But they didn’t die. Instead, they thrived. They adapted. They lost their pigmentation, their sight, eventually even their eyes. With survival, they became hideous. I’ve rarely thought about what I once was. But I wonder if a ray of light were to make it into the cave, would I be able to see it? Or feel it? Would I gravitate to its warmth? And if I did, would I become less hideous?

These themes of light and dark also intersect with the themes of forgiveness, salvation and redemption. As Red explains to Liz in Tom Connolly (2x22):

I’m a sin eater. I absorb the misdeeds of others, darkening my soul to keep theirs pure.

And in The Kilgannon Corporation (5x07), Red explains to Liz how Dembe tries to save Red’s soul from the darkness:

Red: You ever wonder why Dembe stays with me? Why anyone so decent would spend his days at the side of someone so indecent? Liz: You saved him. He owes you his life. He protects you because you protected him. Red: No, Elizabeth. Dembe didn’t stay with me because he saw me as his savior. He stayed with me because he saw me for the man I really was – a man surrounded by darkness. No friends who could be trusted, no faith that loyalty or love could ever truly exist. I was– Well, I was younger then. Angrier. Dembe connected his life with mine to show me, that day and every day, that the world is not what I fear it to be. He is the light in the darkness. Living proof that there is another way, that life can be good, that people can be kind, that a man like me might one day dream of becoming a man like him. He pledged his life, offered it up as evidence that I was wrong about this world. Dembe guards my life because he’s determined to save my soul.

At the end of Ruin, Liz returns from Alaska and admits to Red that she’s still in a dark place:

Liz: I tried. I really did. I didn’t go looking for trouble. But it found me. And I’m glad it did. Red: What happened? Liz: I killed some men. Doesn’t matter that they were bad. That it was them or me. What matters is that I did it and I was good at it. And I didn’t lose any sleep over it. Red: You will. One of these nights you will. It’s just a matter of when. Liz: Maybe. Later. After I’ve crossed the abyss. But from the side I’m on now, all that matters is that I’m healed and – I’m back. And I’m coming for Tom’s killers. Like I said, I couldn’t keep my promise. Can you forgive me? Red: Yes. Will you be able to forgive yourself?

And in the next episode, The Informant, as Ressler is struggling with how to handle Prescott, Red also discusses forgiveness:

Forgiveness doesn’t mean accepting what you’ve done, Donald. It means understanding that the line dividing good and evil cuts through the hearts of all of us.

This is important for Ressler, who has struggled to accept that mixture of each, both in himself and in others. But by the end of the episode, Ressler is ready to choose the light, to do the right thing, to try to pull himself out of the darkness he’s been living in:

Red: You were preoccupied. Ressler: I was crazed. And convinced I should kill the man who shot her. Do you remember what you told me to do? Red: I told you to go home. You didn’t. Ressler: You said that once you cross over, there are things in the darkness that can keep your heart from ever feeling the light again. I didn’t go home, but I never crossed over. I never thanked you for that. Red: Nor should you. Your circumspection afforded me the opportunity to take care of Audrey’s killer myself. It was a win-win. Ressler: I didn’t want Prescott’s real name so that I could kill him. I wanted it so I could arrest him. Red: He goes to prison, so will you. Ressler: I know, but I’m in the darkness, and doing the right thing is the only way I’ll ever feel the light again.

Against Ressler’s wishes, Red acts as sin eater again (as does Cooper in accepting Ressler’s confession but refusing to pass it through the proper channels). Because in Red’s view:

Sins should be buried like the dead. Not that they may be forgotten, but that we may remember them and find our way forward nonetheless.

In Season 7, in Brothers (7x17), we learn that Ressler has an even larger skeleton in his closet. Once again, he is concerned about doing the “right thing,” because he can’t live with the secret hanging over him any longer. This is his way forward, back into the light.

Ressler: Well, say you agree with me about how we should handle this. I mean, we arrest those bastards who took the car – for theft, for extortion, for all the other poison they pump into the city. And then after that – my brother and I come clean about what we’ve done. Liz: I don’t know that I do agree. After the story you told me, after what you’ve been through – both of you– Ressler: No, we have to do the right thing. It’s important. Liz: Of course, yes, I will help you. I just want to make sure you’re prepared to face the consequences when the FBI gets their hands on that vehicle and that body. Because if we go in and arrest those people, eventually, the FBI’s gonna open up that trunk. Ressler: And find Tommy Markin. I know. Liz: Are you really okay with dealing with the consequences of that? Ressler: I’ve been running from this my whole life. I need it to be done. We both need it to be done.

This time, Liz acts as his sin-eater and makes the body disappear. So how does this all fit together in terms of Ressler and Liz and their relationship?

Liz has always seen Ressler as a good person, as someone on the side of light rather than dark. Even when he was hunting her as a fugitive in Season 3, she still defended him in Eli Matchett (3x03) after Red questioned why she reached out to Ressler for help:

Red: Ressler is a law-enforcement robot. The FBI winds him up– Liz: That’s not true. He’s a person. He’s a good person. Red: Look at me. You need to let that go, Lizzy. I have survived for a very long time now, and I assure you, I didn’t do it by relying on the goodness in people.

At the same time, she’s questioning whether she herself is still a good person.

Liz: I shot a cop. Red: Yes, you did. Liz: And killed the Attorney General of the United States. Red: Yes. And when you did that you crossed a threshold, leaving your world, entering mine. Bad things are gonna find you now, Lizzy. This life has a mind and a momentum of its own. That’s a reality you need to accept. Bad things happen to good people. Liz: Am I a good person? I’m not so sure anymore.

By the time we get to Season 7, and Brothers, Ressler is the one calling Liz the better person as he prepares to turn himself in:

You know, Keen– I didn’t like you when we first met. I was wrong. You’re a good agent. You’re the kind of agent that – people join the FBI to try to become. But you’re also a good person. Much better person than I am. So, whatever happens out there today, the Task Force is gonna be in good hands with you.

But she doesn’t let him - as she explains later, for herself, not for him, because she needs the peace and stability that he provides in her life, she needs that “tiny island of calm,” amidst the dark forces that surround her.

Liz: Have you looked at my life? I’m a widow and a single mom. A marionette – with a high-functioning sociopath pulling my strings. My grandfather tried to murder my mother, and my mother is a legendarily lethal Russian spy – who moved in next door without even telling me who she was. I mean it. Have you looked at my life? I mean, really taken a close look. Because it’s like I’m in the middle of a monsoon that’s constantly threatening to drown me in bad news. And somewhere in the middle of that FEMA disaster of a life– Somewhere is just – a tiny island of calm. And if that weren’t there, I would be swept out to sea. Ressler: No, that’s never gonna happen– Liz: It would if you weren’t here. Ressler: But I am. And it won’t. Come here. It’s never gonna happen. Not on my watch.

Ressler has consistently represented peace and calm and stability to Liz amidst the chaos. It’s there from the very beginning when she clings to him after the Stewmaker ordeal at the end of 1x04, it’s there again when they hug in Mato 4x02 after he shows up at the Summer Palace, it’s there in Dr. Bodgan Krilov (4x19) when she envisions a peaceful future for Ressler watching the sunset from his lake house while Hitchin goes to jail:

Liz: I didn’t do it for you. I did it for him. Hitchin: Fair enough, but you did it, and for that, I’m grateful. Liz: Donald Ressler represents what’s best about this country. He’s loyal and honest, and he believes that no one – no one – is above the law. And I believe that one day, you’ll be the one being dragged off in handcuffs. And he’ll be walking into his lake house to watch the sunset.

It’s there in Season 5, the first episode that they share a meaningful scene together after Ruin, and The Informant, when Ressler is talking about “silver linings,” in the Capricorn Killer (5x16) as he wraps his arm around her.

So for me, Jon calling Ressler a "light that is – represents good and the Boy Scout and all the stuff” is completely consistent with all of that has come before between these two characters and isn’t something Jon just made up out of whole cloth. More importantly, the fact that he characterizes Ressler as “more interesting” to Liz now because of the contrast, and the juxtaposition between her darkness and his “light” is also encouraging to me insofar as I don’t want to see the show end violently - I want to see it end with Red and Liz at peace and with Liz achieving the calm, normal life she’s always wanted (and which Red has promised her for seasons now she will have in the end). So the fact that she’s still interested in light and peace and calm, despite her step further into the darkness at the end of 7.19, is an encouraging sign to me that Liz is not entirely lost.

Back in Season 3, in a midseason interview with The Blacklist Exposed between episodes 3x08 and 3x09, Jon said that Liz “is definitely on a dark path...and I think she will continue to be,” and that “it’s a battle for her soul, it’s a battle for can she survive going through this process.”

There’s a conversation between Ressler and Cooper in the comics (The Arsonist, #6) that illustrates that Ressler’s concern back then wasn’t just preventing Liz from being physically killed, or “beating” Red, but more a fear of losing her to Red’s world - that the darkness would overtake her.

Ressler: I want to bring her in while she’s still...her. Every second she’s out there Reddington’s turning her into someone else. Cooper: That may be, but it’s your job to catch her Donald. It’s not your job to save her.

Four seasons later, I think it’s still a battle for Liz’s soul, but an internal battle that has never really gone away. The battle is not Reddington turning her into someone else, but rather own struggle against her dark impulses, her own struggle to fight for some light, some peace, some calm in her life amidst the chaos. And for that, I think she needs someone to help pull her back from the brink before she takes that step too far, someone to remind her that there is another way.

I hope going forward into next season, that will be Ressler, who will draw on his own experience battling his own demons and help prevent Liz from slipping into the abyss. Does that mean that Keenler will end up a romantic couple in the end? Not necessarily (though personally I hope so). But I take Jon’s comments as a positive sign that Ressler will be a positive force in her life as she steps into yet another battle.

Wine for all those who made it this far!

#the blacklist #donald ressler #elizabeth keen #keenler #jon bokenkamp #theories #long post #really long post #I resisted gifs and images to try to keep it shorter

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theabominableblogger · 4 years ago

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Rewatching “Fright Night” (the 1985 version)

No I ain’t watching the remake with David Tennant. ‘Cause I said so.

*does Borat impression while loading the movie on Amazon Prime*

“Sit here beside me on the veranda.” Is this the... TV show scene? The show with Roddy McDowall?

SCARE CHOOORD!

“So... luminescent.” *laughs*

Those were some... horrible kissing noises

I like the out of context implication that as soon as the woman asks the dude to lay on her chest, Peter Vincent’s like “NONE IN THIS HOUSE!”

“IF SHE BREATHES...”

What idiot puts their smelly ass soccer cleats on their headboard?

“We’ve been going together almost a year, and all I ever hear is ‘Charley, stop it.’“ Well then maybe that’s a you problem

Also what the hell is that map thing next to Amy?

“Let’s get into bed.” *bug eyes*

Amy, that is not the look of someone who is ready to have sex.

“It says right here that the divorce rate is 76% higher among couples who don’t argue before marriage.” Shut up, Mom.

“Thank you [Amy] for helping Charley with his homework.” ...I was gonna make a sex joke here but nah.

Oh I hate Charley’s friend in his movie.

Charley’s car, while super nice, looks like a sunburnt cow

“My luck. He’s [the neighbor] probably gay.” AAAAAHHH THEY EVEN SAID IT!

I really Charley to slap Teach [Ed] at some point but I know it’s never gonna happen.

For a moment, I thought that the carpenter dude partner was gonna be like Kenny from “The War at Home” but nah. He probably just uses his teeth a lot.

*silently jamming to the background synth music*

*Charley spots a woman removes her bra in the window* What was this rated again?

AN: It’s rated R

*yells when Jerry looks over to see Charley through the window*

*Shot of Jerry’s hand pulling down the window blind* That... is a lady hand.

AN: They were actually extensions that Chris wore and he helped apply them himself so that he could just rip them off after a day of shooting

*Charley’s mom ruins Charley’s cover* DAMN IT MOM

This movie is basically “Who Cried Wolf” but with vampires?

“I’m his roommate Billy Cole.” Can you believe just that the fact that this movie was made in the mid 80s when the AIDS crisis in the US was getting ready to happen and director Tom Holland and the screenwriter went “YES they’re gonna be GAY and THAT’S FINAL”

“You actually saw the body, Charley?” Uh doesn’t that tone raise any suspicion from the detective STANDING NEXT TO HIM?

*snorts in hilarity when Billy jokingly does the sign of the cross*

Charley, I would not trust anything Teach tries to tell you.

AND OF COURSE CHARLEY’S MOM INVITED JERRY OVER

OMINOUS SYNTH CHORD

My God, Chris Sarandon...

What’s with the celery?

Charley’s mom is the most oblivious character in this whole movie, I swear

FISH EYE LENS

I forget, do we ever see Jerry in vampire bat form or do we just see him as Chris Sarandon with fangs the entire movie?

Why yes, Charley, use your tiny crucifix.

Doesn’t the whole “enter with permission” count with bedrooms too or just the house in general? If it counted with bedrooms, couldn’t Charley just put up a sign on his door that said “NO ADMISSION WITHOUT PERMISSION” and that would keep Jerry out?

Jerry is the most casual vampire I’ve seen so far. Someone would just throw a chair at him and he’ll just No-Sell it like “Listen... I was just saying...”

There’s got to be a logical way to explain this Christmas thing.

We just need a vampire that’s like Catherine O’Hara from “Schitt’s Creek”

I love how Charley’s like 80% out the window and yet he can still reach for an entire mug of pencils

NO WAIT WE SEE HIS [Jerry’s] VAMPIRE FACE NEVERMIND

Valium?!?

Christopher Lee!

THAT FRAMING [of Billy kneeling directly in front of Jerry’s legs] ISN’T OBVIOUS AT ALL TOM HOLLAND

The logic for this movie is something else. Charley sees someone on TV perform a vampire killing ON A TV SHOW and thinks “YES I’m going to ask him to help me with this vampire situation!”

This is like asking Drew Carey if he can assist in a vampire hunting

*imitates Peter Vincent shooing Charley away*

*snorts at Teach and Amy walking in on Charley setting holy stuff ALL OVER HIS HOUSE*

Also I absolutely forgot about the weird side plot with Amy being an incarnation of a past love. What is it with this and Bram Stoker’s Dracula going this route?

Man, Roddy McDowall is just a masterclass in classical acting. You can tell the different style between him and the other actors.

There’s a bust of Klaus Kinski’s Nosferatu in the glass box!

AN: *in best Janet from ‘The Good Place’ impression* Fun fact, Klaus Kinski was actually an asshole

I like the red and black plaid night coat

God, all those clocks going off at once reminds me of the scene in Pinocchio. That would give me so much anxiety in real life.

WHO TOSSED JERRY THE APPLE?!?

OH AND THEY [Jerry and Billy] WALK OFF TOGETHER OF COURSE

*imitates Peter Vincent saying “Good evening good evening”*

*going through AO3′s Fright Night 1985 tag as Peter explains what he’s doing* Wow there’s four pages. I might have to bookmark some of these.

Ohhhh kay, nevermind on half of these. Not into that. Nope nope nope.

I forget, is Billy also a vampire? Or is he like some ghoul? Werewolf?

...Interspecies romance?

For a fact, I know that if CinemaSins covers this movie, they would award Jerry the “eating an apple because he’s an asshole” sin and I would laugh

Oh he’s [Jerry] gonna go for the hand kiss, isn’t he?

OH GOD DAMMIT

*has to still register it*

Wait, did Jerry hold the bottle up in front of the fire in case there was actually holy water? Would heating it up counteract the holy water inside?

WAIT DOESN’T PETER CATCH JERRY’S LACK OF REFLECTION IN THE MIRROR AS THEY LEAVE?

How did they do that? Did they just... comp Chris Sarandon out or did they have him tuck out of frame but still say his lines?

AN: Tom Holland originally goofed up the shot I guess but they ran with it

JERRY IS BI HEADCANON CONFIRMED

WAIT HE FOUND THE MIRROR SHARDS

The overhead tracking shot following Ed in the alleyway is actually pretty good. And the way it slides to a normal shot is great.

Oh they do the creepy Dracula fog!

Wait, this movie came out the same year as Nightmare on Elm Street 2. Dang.

And that movie also had a weird homoerotic tone to it.

You know what, the way Jerry offers Ed salvation only to attack him was actually pretty solid. Just good acting from both of them. I was sold.

WAIT IT’S THE CLUB SCENE!

*Peter presses a cross to Ed’s forehead* Great prosthetic too, holy crap!

*jams out to the song playing at the club*

Why do Jerry’s dance clothes look like either my pajamas or really lame exercise clothes?

God, it’s [Jerry pacing back and forth watching Amy] like a cat stalking a bird holy crap

NOOOO I DON’T NEED TO WATCH THIS SHE’S LIKE SIXTEEEEENNNN

*jaw drops when Jerry runs his hand up Amy’s leg* NOOOOOO

Not gonna lie, this song almost sounded like a remix of the Nightmare on Elm Street theme

NOOOOOOOO STOOOOOPPPP CEASE DESIST

Amy’s hair just gets wilder and wilder during this dance sequence

STOOOOOOPPPP

Quick, Charley, start a fight! Just... punch someone! Commotion!

*just yells when Jerry steals a kiss from Amy*

*Amy wakes up in a white dress in Jerry’s house* NOPE

God and he [Jerry] took off his shirt too just *hides face in hands*

*covers mouth with hand in attempt not to say anything*

*Jerry’s dragging finger scrapes off wood on the banister* Oh that’s just mean

*Jerry drapes his arms over the back of Billy’s shoulders* HMM

They would be that duo who would pick up a phone and take turns to go “...surprise, Sidney...”

*A wolf walks out of Mrs. Brewster’s room* WHAAAAATTT?!?

Dang they really just tossed a plushie wolf off the stairs

WAIT the guy that did the VFX for this movie also did “Ghostbusters” if I remember correctly

AN: Yes

They are just... really dragging out Ed’s death scene

That kinda exasperated look Peter gives the smoking house is great

Wait is Billy a vampire too? Zombie? What is he?

I really just want Charley to reach out and just slightly poke dying Billy in the chest so that he crumbles backwards. That would have been hilarious.

How long is Amy’s hair?

HE [Jerry] DOES TURN INTO A BAT!

Real plot twist would be that the bat bite also starts turning Charley into a vampire so Peter would have to kill three birds with one stone (heal Charley and Amy and kill Jerry)

Boss move: Peter closing the coffin in front of Jerry

And it ends with the same shot as the opening!

“Oh, you’re so cool, Brewster.” So is Ed alive?

#fright night #fright night 1985 #chris sarandon #roddy mcdowall #peter vincent #jerry dandridge #the blogger reacts #q post

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stuckonvenus · 3 years ago

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𝐉𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐌𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐲

no, i don't want a battle from beginning to end i don't want a cycle of recycled revenge i don't want to follow death and all of his friends

𝐢. Born as the youngest of a set of twins, Jules has always been on the back burner. His brother Ziggy was more sprightly and demanded more attention — and quite honestly, Jules was glad to give it to him. But what he once thought was innocent fun, his older brother shoving him out of the way so he could perform some nauseatingly stupid trick, became him believing their parents’ preferred Ziggy’s outgoing attitude in comparison to Jules’ quiet observance.

𝐢𝐢. One night, after a dinner that Ziggy hadn’t stopped talking at, Jules resolved to take a short walk to the playground near their house so he could cry in peace. Until a rustling came from the bushes and the next thing he knew, he was awake in his own bed feeling miserable — and without a heartbeat.

𝐢𝐢𝐢. His parents, having only the rumors of supernaturals in Prado Verde to go off of, were at a loss of what to do with Jules, who seemed more miserable than ever. But deep down, he liked the attention that vampirism gave him. Then he overheard his parents agreeing that the best solution would be to end his suffering altogether. Hurt and panicked, Jules escaped through his bedroom window and didn’t return home, seeking refuge in Blue Cave for months, until another wayward vampire discovered him...

♥ ˚⊹ BASIC INFORMATION

FULL NAME: JULIAN REID MOONEY NICKNAME(S): JULES, JULIE PREFERRED NAME(S): JULES BIRTH DATE: SEPTEMBER 3RD, 2015 AGE: 5 ZODIAC: VIRGO GENDER: CIS MALE PRONOUNS: HE/HIM ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: NONE SEXUAL ORIENTATION: NONE SPECIES: VAMPIRE LIVING CONDITIONS: BLUE CAVE

♥ ˚⊹ BACKGROUND

BIRTH PLACE: AUGUSTA, MAINE HOMETOWN: PRADO VERDE, MAINE EDUCATION LEVEL: KINDERGARTEN (HALF A YEAR) FATHER: REID MOONEY MOTHER: ABIGAIL RENAULT SIBLING(S): ZIGGY MOONEY (TWIN BROTHER). PREVIOUS RELATIONSHIPS: NONE

♥ ˚⊹ SKILLS & ABILITIES

TALENTS: CAN PLAY A LITTLE PIANO. SHORTCOMINGS: EXTREMELY ANXIOUS. LANGUAGE(S) SPOKEN: ENGLISH DRIVE?: CAN’T DRIVE. JUMP-STAR A CAR?: NO. CHANGE A FLAT TIRE?: NO. RIDE A BICYCLE?: NO, BUT CAN RIDE A TRICYCLE. SWIM?: YES. PLAY AN INSTRUMENT?: YES. PLAY CHESS?: NO. BRAID HAIR?: NO. TIE A TIE?: NO. PICK A LOCK?: NO.

♥ ˚⊹ PHYSICAL APPEARANCE & CHARACTERISTICS

FACE CLAIM: JACOB TREMBLAY. EYE COLOR: HAZEL. HAIR COLOR: BROWN. HAIR TYPE/STYLE: SHORT & STRAIGHT. GLASSES/CONTACTS?: GLASSES. DOMINANT HAND: LEFT. HEIGHT: 3′7. WEIGHT: 30LBS. BUILD: MALNOURISHED. EXERCISE HABITS: NEVER WORKS OUT. TATTOOS: NONE. PIERCINGS: NONE. MARKS/SCARS: TWO PUNCTURE WOUNDS ON HIS NECK, LARGE SCAR FROM A WEREWOLF ATTACK ACROSS HIS FACE. NOTABLE FEATURES: N/A. USUAL EXPRESSION: CONCERED. CLOTHING STYLE: COTTAGECORE. JEWELRY: NONE. ALLERGIES: PEANUTS (WHEN ALIVE). BODY TEMPERATURE: COLD. DIET: BLOOD AND RED MEATS ONLY. PHYSICAL AILMENTS: VAMPIRISM.

♥ ˚⊹ PSYCHOLOGY

JUNG TYPE: INFP ENNEAGRAM TYPE: 6 [THE LOYALIST] MORAL ALIGNMENT: LAWFUL GOOD TEMPERAMENT: MELANCHOLIC MENTAL CONDITIONS/DISORDERS: ANXIETY. THEME SONG: ISLAND SONG BY ASHLEY ERIKSSON OBSESSION(S): NONE. COMPULSION(S): BITING HIS FANGS INTO HIS LIP. PHOBIA(S): SUPERNATURALS. ADDICTION(S): NONE. DRUG USE: NONE. ALCOHOL USE: NONE. PRONE TO VIOLENCE?: NO.

♥ ˚⊹ MANNERISMS

SPEECH STYLE: POLITE ACCENT: NONE. QUIRKS: NONE. HOBBIES: PLAYING PIANO, WATCHING TV, CATCHING BIRDS HABITS: BITING HIMSELF. NERVOUS TICKS: WRINGING HIS HANDS. DRIVES/MOTIVATIONS: TO HAVE HIS PARENTS LOVE HIM AGAIN. FEARS: SUPERNATURALS, HEIGHTS. POSITIVE TRAITS: COMPASSIONATE. NEGATIVE TRAITS: FEARFUL. SENSE OF HUMOR: CHILDISH. DO THEY CURSE OFTEN?: NO. CATCHPHRASE(S): OH, DEAR.

♥ ˚⊹ FAVORITES

ACTIVITY: SWIMMING. ANIMAL: FISH. BEVERAGE: USED TO BE CHOCOLATE MILK. BOOK: THE RAINBOW FISH. COLOR: ALL OF THEM. FOOD: USED TO BE DINOSAUR NUGGETS. FLOWER: SUNFLOWER. GEM: DIAMOND. HOLIDAY: CHRISTMAS. MODE OF TRANSPORTATION: TRICYCLE. MOVIE: THE LEGO MOVIE. MUSICAL ARTIST: C418. SCENERY: FORESTS WITH STREAMS. SCENT: FOOD OUT OF THE OVEN. SPORT: NONE. WEATHER: CLEAR SKIES. VACATION DESTINATION: HOME.

#jules — character study.#guess who figured out how to combine gifs with pictures... me #and it only took half my brain cells to do it #anyway this made me sad my poor angel

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watchmegetobsessed · 5 years ago

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Everything about you - Shawn Mendes

i’ve been DYING to write a personal assistant themed oneshot and im pretty pleased with how this one turned out to be hehe

drabble list masterlist

Looking out for drunk Shawn is like taking care of a puppy. He is wobbly, can’t really coordinate his limbs, his laugh sounds way higher than usually, almost like that tiny barks puppies have and he is touchy. Like, in need of being touched constantly, finding his way to make physical contact with you in any way, anytime, not really understanding the concept of personal space.

“Would you stop moving around?” you sigh reaching over to him as you push him back at the seat by his chest while you keep your eyes on the road, glancing at him shortly. He has been playing around with the belt for like five minutes, giggling about something you couldn’t really understand when he explained it, because he kept biting off the ends of words.

“Fuck, I’m… wasted,” he snorts, head falling back as he closes his eyes with a smug grin on his face.

“Yeah, no shit, Sherlock!” you roll your eyes.

You want to be mad at him, you want to fume and rage that you were woken up by some random dude in the middle of the night because you are one of Shawn’s emergency contacts in his phones, asking you to come to this party to pick Shawn up because he was so drunk he was dancing on the table like he was in Magic Mike. You know it’s serious when he is dancing, he has to drink a lot to reach a level where he is comfortable enough to dance in front of people. You want to hit him for being so dumb, but you just can’t. You’re more concerned about his headache he’ll have in the morning and if he can make it through the night without throwing up. The answer for the latter is probably no, he has had rough nights from way less alcohol.

When his hand slides to your thigh, fingers spreading over the raw denim of your jeans your grip on the wheel tightens. Glancing over at him you see that his eyes are still closed, he is quietly humming a melody you can’t quite recognize, but you could listen to his voice for hours.

Taking a hand from the wheel you place it on top of his, just to make sure it doesn’t wander anywhere else, telling yourself it’s just the alcohol in him.

“You really should find your limits, Shawn,” you scold him mumbling. He doesn’t answer, just takes a sharp breath, his hand turning under yours and his fingers soon lace through yours. Your eyes flicker down at your hands and your chest feels heavy at the sight of it.

When you started working as his personal assistant two years ago you didn’t realize what you were getting yourself into. It’s not that the job sucks, it’s literally the best ever, you get to travel the world and get paid for it, you just have to keep Shawn’s stuff organized, remind him before flights and basically know the answer to all his questions, but it’s not that hard. What’s been making you absolutely crazy is that you can’t stop yourself from seeing him as more than just a friend or your super cool boss. Everything he does, everything he says is just making you fall for him more and more and even when he is totally wasted in your car at three in the morning, you can’t hate the dude.

“Limits are for pussies,” he slurs with another snort and it’s probably the first time you hear him use the word pussy.

“Yeah, we’ll see what you have to say about that in the morning,” you sigh as you pull up at the entrance of his building’s underground garage.

Shawn winces as the bright lights of the garage flows into his face, but he keeps his hand on your thigh still, not even moving it a little or snapping it over his eyes.

Getting him out of the car is harder than you thought. He is kind of half asleep, his limbs and whole upper body weighs on you as you throw one of his arms around your shoulders, forcing him to walk with you.

“Shawn, please just stay awake for ten more minutes,” you beg him, struggling to move forward. He keeps stopping, knees collapsing every third step, not making your job easier at all.

“M’sorry,” he mumbles rubbing his eyes.

He manages to make it to the elevator with your help and you make him lean against the wall on the way up so you can rest and get ready to carry him to his bed.

You feel like you just had an hour long workout by the time the two of you make it to his king sized bed. Throwing him to the mattress he lies on his back, arms stretched out to the sides as he blinks up at the ceiling blurrily.

“Do you feel like throwing up?” you ask him as you pull off his shoes and put them away.

“Not really,” he breathes out closing his eyes.

“Shawn, let’s get you changed and then you can sleep, alright?” you shake his leg making him open his eyes again.

He just quietly nods as he slowly pushes himself up. He starts taking his shirt off while you walk into his wardrobe and grab a white t-shirt and a pair of basketball shorts for him to sleep in. When you get back you freeze for a moment as you see him stand at the end of the bed only in his boxers, his shirt and pants laying on the ground at his feet.

“Here,” you shyly say handing him the clothes. He mumbles a thank you as he gets dressed, collapsing to the bed once again.

Pulling the blanket out from under him you cover him as he takes some deep breaths, fingers gripping his hair, eyebrows furrowed.

“Hey, what’s wrong, bud?” you pat his foot as you watch him grimace with his eyes closed. He looks exactly like someone who is about to throw up.

“I don’t know,” he breathes out.

Rushing into the bathroom you quickly grab a bucket and you get back just in time. He shoots up and grabbing the bucket from you his face disappears in it as he pukes everything out.

“S’alright, just let it out,” you sigh gently running a hand up and down on his back as he keeps spitting into the bucket. Throwing up is good, he’ll feel way better once all the toxic stuff is out of his system.

“I’m so sorry you had to wake up for this,” he groans when you take the bucket from him and head back into the bathroom to clean it. You try not to think about how gross it is, you just flush it all down the toilet and then wash it out in the bathtub. You hear feet tapping on the floor and turning around you see that Shawn is grabbing his toothbrush. You caress his arm as you put the bucket away and leave him alone in the bathroom.

You get a big glass of water from the kitchen and put it down to his nightstand. Picking his clothes up from the floor you fish his phone out of his pants’ pocket, put it on his charger and then throw them into the laundry basket. It smells from tequila and weed, though you know he hasn’t smoked that night. High Shawn is more philosophic and deep, doesn’t really swear. He is like an ancient Greek philosopher when he is stoned, does not use the word pussy for sure.

Walking out of the bathroom he shuffles back to the bed, getting under the covers by himself this time. You sit down to the edge to check if he is alright, but he grabs your hand and pulls you down so you basically lie on him.

“Shawn!” you chuckle lightly as he peeks at you.

“Stay with me,” he whispers, hands wrapped around your wrist like a handcuff as he keeps you on top of him.

“Do you still feel sick?”

“Mmm no,” he hums.

“Then I’m leaving,” you sigh trying to get away from him but his grip is too tight on you.

“Then suddenly I feel like throwing up again.”

You give him a look even though he can’t see it, his eyes are still closed, probably because the room is spinning with him when he opens them.

“I’ll make you breakfast in the morning in return for tonight.”

He slowly pulls you further, until you are lying next to him, one arm around your shoulders, the other hand holding yours on his chest. Your face is pushed against his shoulder and the heat of his body feels just too nice against your skin. You shouldn’t be doing this, but you can’t make yourself leave him. It’s like there’s a magnet in your chest that’s pulling you towards him, holding you down and not letting you get up from his bed.

“You’re such a mess,” you mumble giving up trying to leave him.

He nuzzles his face against the crown of your head as you lie next to him on top of the covers, his fingers gently stroking your arm.

“I know,” he breathes out, words barely audible. “Good thing I have you.”

His words sink into your heart, a few moments later he is peacefully snoring while you’re just staring into the darkness, chest aching as his touch is practically burning your skin. His fingers has stopped, but you wish they were still running on your arm. Shutting your eyes closed you force yourself to fall asleep, hoping for the pain to be gone by the morning.

Your arms stretch to the side before you open your eyes in the morning and the first thing you realize is that you can’t reach the edge of the mattress like in your own bed. Realization comes to you slowly as you remember that you spent the night at Shawn’s, in the same bed with him.

Your hands roam the sheets, but the bed feels empty. Opening your eyes you see that Shawn is gone and the glass you set on his nightstand is now empty, phone missing too. Sitting up you hold the soft sheets to your chest as you look around. You’ve been in his room many times, but seeing everything from his bed is just a whole different view.

It takes some time for you to realize that music is playing somewhere outside of the bedroom. Slipping out of the bed you creep into his bathroom to quickly fix your hair before heading out, even though he has seen you in the morning several times when you slept on the same bus on tour.

You find Shawn in the kitchen, wearing the same clothes you made him put on last night, headband taming his curls as he is basically destroying the kitchen, New Light by John Mayer playing in the background. He is humming to the music, occasionally singing out the words he knows for sure, usually the end of each line while he is making something that looks like scrambled eggs with bacon.

It’s a sight you could get used to for the rest of your life for sure. Leaning against the wall at the end of the hallway you just watch him wondering when he’ll notice you. The guitar solo comes on and he starts vocalizing to it, playing an air guitar, swirling around, head falling back, but he soon stops as he gets dizzy fast, probably fighting a nice headache, but he must have already chugged down two Advils by now.

When he finally sees you standing in your observing spot a wide smile stretches across his face, flashing his perfect teeth.

“Mornin’! You hungry?” he asks poking the eggs around in the pan.

Walking closer you take a look at it and you see that he probably didn’t mix the eggs for long enough, you can even see an egg yolk in almost a whole, but you are proud of him for trying at least.

“Sure, Chef,” you grin as you climb onto a stool at the kitchen island while Shawn finishes up his masterpiece.

Grabbing two plates and forks he sets the counter for breakfast grabbing some orange juice from the fridge, continue to sing. Say comes on and he knows all the words to it, singing beautifully as he divides the eggs and bacon slices equally between the two plates even though you already know you won’t eat all of it and he’ll end up snatching the rest from your plate.

You start eating in silence, the eggs need some more salt but you don’t say it, just quietly eat, letting him think he did a good job with the breakfast. Hell, you would eat it even if it was horrible if it meant you could see that proud smile on his face he has on now as he tastes his work.

“Thanks for coming to get me last night,” he finally speaks up.

“It’s kinda my job,” you shrug making it look like it was really nothing.

“But cleaning up after me after I threw up is not,” he smirks at you poking your side with his elbow.

“Someone had to do it, or did you want to sleep with the bucket full of puke next to you all night?”

“Hell no!” he grimaces making you chuckle.

“How are you feeling?” you ask when you feel like you’re full, some food still on your plate and he instantly reaches for it.

“You don’t want it?” he asks, but he already took the plate, adding your leftover to his as you just shake your head no. “My head is pounding, and I feel like I’ve been ran over by a tank, but I woke up in a great mood because I had someone special next to me.”

Your cheeks flush almost immediately as your gaze is fixated on the empty plate in front of you. Not sure what to say to that you get off of the stool and start cleaning up the mess he made.

“Don’t, I’ll take care of it!” he tells you reaching out over the kitchen island as if he could reach you and stop you, but even his arms are not long enough to do that.

“S’alright, you cooked, it’s only fair if I clean up after,” you shrug grabbing the empty pan and your plate, placing them all into the sink as you start running the water.

“Not when I owe you after fetching me up drunk and taking care of me.”

He quickly finishes his breakfast and rushing over he grabs your hands and gently pushes you out of the way, taking over the dishes. You just sigh, drying your hand in a towel as you lean against the counter and watch him work around the kitchen.

“Wanna stay and hang out today?” he asks glancing over at you as he puts the eggs that are left into the fridge.

“Um, I should probably head home and take a shower, get changed. I also have to run a few errands today.”

“We can drop by your place, do everything you need to and then have lunch somewhere later.”

“Do you really want to spend your day off with me, running around town?” you ask skeptically.

“Is that a crime?” he chuckles narrowing his eyes at you.

“No, I just thought you would want to do something else.”

“I don’t,” he simply says as he hangs up his kitchen rag to dry once he is finished with everything.

“Don’t forget you have a meeting with that new designer about your outfits for the photoshoot next week,” you warn him as the two of you are on the way to your place. Shawn wanted to take one of his cars, but you refused to leave yours in his garage so he gave up, convincing you to let him drive and you happily said yes.

“I won’t forget, but can we not talk about work today?” he proposes fixing his sunglasses on his nose. You quietly nod, suddenly not sure what to say then. Work has always been the number one topic between you and him, after all, you are his personal assistant, this is your job.

You can’t help but feel like something has changed between you and him. You can’t really put your finger on it, but you can feel it in the air and it’s making you anxious. It feels like you’ve entered a dangerous, unknown territory last night and the line between work and your personal life is starting to get blurry.

Shawn plops down to your couch and turns the TV on while you take a quick shower and change from your yoga pants and oversized hoodie into a sundress with a denim jacket. Walking out you find Shawn in the kitchen, searching through your fridge.

“You won’t find anything, I have to go grocery shopping too,” you tell him and he closes it disappointed so he just grabs a bottled water. “I don’t have a person just to fill my fridge up every three days,” you chuckle at him, knowing well he has someone taking care of it for him. You hired the dude after having enough of his whining every time he went home after a long studio session in the middle of the night and texted you how hungry he was but there was nothing to eat. After one of these occasions you took care of it and his fridge has been full at all times since then.

You figured Shawn would get bored somewhere along the way to the post office, at your accountant’s office or grocery shopping, but the guy seems to be having fun accompanying you.

“Shawn, can you stop putting stuff into the cart that I don’t need?” you plead him as you put back a whole box of ice-cream into the freezer that he sneaked into the cart while you were looking at the frozen veggies.

“Who doesn’t need ice-cream?”

“Me. I don’t eat ice-cream,” you state matter-of-factly.

“What? Are you an alien?” he gasps dramatically, leaning onto the cart as he pushes it following you down the aisle.

“I’m not, but I only eat ice-cream when I’m extremely sad.”

“And when was the last time you felt that sad?”

You purse your lips thinking back at the last time you sat down and ate almost a whole box of ice-cream by yourself. It was about two months ago, you were out with Shawn and the team, the guys were picking on Shawn nonstop about some girl who gave him her number the night before. You watched him blushing while talking about how they’ve been texting all day and that he might ask her out. Jealousy was boiling under your skin and you left early not bearing to listen to his little conquering. You pretended like you had a headache, Shawn even tried to convince you to let him drive you home, but you just wanted to be alone so you told him to stay. You shamelessly cried that night, lying on your couch with the ice-cream while watching the Notebook. Luckily you never heard of that girl again, it seems like the date never happened though you never had the courage to ask him why he didn’t ask her out.

“Um, a while ago,” you shrug, eyes roaming the shelves, pretending to be busy with the products.

“Why were you sad?”

You wish he would just stop asking questions, but you already know how curious he is. Sighing you stop and turn to him.

“I just heard something that hit me hard in the chest. Can we move on? I really don’t want to talk about it in the middle of a store.”

He quietly nods, it seems like you hurt him and the guilt immediately tantalizes your heart, but you really don’t want to discuss with him the time he broke your heart, especially since he doesn’t know it was him who made you destroy that box of ice-cream.

“M’sorry,” he mumbles. Stepping closer you put your hand over his on the handle of the cart.

“It’s alright,” you say smiling at him.

You’re just about to pull your hand back, but his turns around and his fingers thread between yours holding onto you. “Shawn…” you sigh.

“What?” he asks innocently, like he has no idea what is going on. But what is it exactly? “Am I not allowed to touch you?”

“Do you want someone to snap a picture and post it?”

“And what would happen if they posted? People are used to you being around me, no one will bat an eye.”

No one except you. You know he is just messing around, probably still feeling a little dizzy from after his wild night, being his touchy self.

“Don’t be silly,” you sigh letting go of his hand as you continue your way to the yoghurts.

Once you’re done with groceries you drop by a pharmacy before heading back to your place. Shawn starts whining about starving, obviously exaggerating his hunger and he starts acting like a baby while you are putting the groceries away.

“My stomach is literally eating itself!” he moans painfully as he leans against the counter.

“Stop being a baby!” you chuckle closing the fridge.

“It’s three o’clock, we had breakfast five hours ago!”

“You ate a whole bag of chips on the way home, was that nothing for you?”

“That’s long gone, I need to fuel this body,” he explains rubbing his stomach and chest.

“I know, I’ve brought you food several times at the most random hours while on tour.”

He just shrugs grinning at you before wrapping his arms around your shoulders, pulling you tight to his body.

“And this is one of the many reasons why you are my favorite person in the whole wide world.”

You let him decide where to go for lunch since he is about to die from starvation. You don’t even pay attention where you’re going right until you walk into the restaurant and a weird feeling comes over you, like you’ve been here before.

Realization hits you hard when you see your ex-boyfriend in a white button up shirt with a black apron. Out of all the places, Shawn managed to bring you to the one where your ex works. You didn’t recognize the place at first, you haven’t been here in two years. Daniel and you broke up right before you started working for Shawn because of his lame excuse that you won’t have time for him once you start traveling the world. He didn’t even give a chance for you to prove him wrong and it made you wonder if there was something else behind it. You’ve been to so many places since then that you didn’t even recognize the place at first, but seeing Daniel for the first time in two years makes you feel some kind of way, but you’re not sure just yet what it really is.

“You alright?” Shawn asks as the two of you take a seat at a small table. You’ve been trying to cover yourself up so Daniel can’t recognize you, but it made you look like you are ticking or something.

“Um yeah, sure!” you reply in an abnormally high pitched voice. Shawn gives you a weird look but before he could ask anything else none other than Daniel appears at the table.

“Welcome, I’m Daniel, I’ll be your waiter today, may I—Y/N? Hey!”

No matter how hard you tried to keep your head down he somehow recognized you and now you force the widest smile on your face as you look up at him.

“Hey! Didn’t even recognize you!”

“It’s been so long, how are you?” he asks and he seems genuinely interested but you wish he would just give you the damn menus and disappear. In the meanwhile, Shawn is staring at you and him with a confused smile on his face.

“Um, great! I’m great. Great,” you nod, sounding like a total idiot. Gosh you don’t know how to deal with it and you said great way too many times. “How are you?” you ask back.

“Fine! You know, nothing extraordinary. Unlike you!” he turns to Shawn and holds out a hand for him and you just truly want to die. “Hey, I’m Daniel, nice to meet you!”

“Shawn, nice to meet you too,” he smiles politely, but you’re sure he is trying hard to figure out what is going on. Unfortunately Daniel decides to tell your brief history with him right on the spot.

“We used to date before she started working for you. We went to the same high school, she used to organize everything in school so no one is surprised she ended up with this job.”

“Oh, that’s nice!” Shawn chuckles lightly, glancing over at you but you just stare down at the empty wine glass in front of you, praying this nightmare will end very soon.

When you recognized Daniel you were afraid seeing him would bring up some unwanted feelings from the past, but it’s nothing like that. His existence is just making you want to leave, not able to stand him this close to you again. You can’t believe you dated him for a year, the dude has been working here for years, he never upgraded or did anything to move forward in life. Judging from the way the waitresses are eyeing the table he has also slept with half of them and has been flirting with the other half, totally messing up everything around him, something he was always good at but you just refused to realize.

Looking over at Shawn you see how much has changed in your life and what you feel for Shawn is just entirely different. More real.

Daniel rambles about how he met you years ago but then luckily he realizes it’s not why you are here so he leaves the table letting you choose from the menu. You hide behind it as you just stare at the same two options, chewing on your bottom lip anxiously.

“So, that’s your ex, huh?”

Peaking over the menu your eyes meet Shawn’s and he is looking at you curiously.

“I guess,” you nod slowly putting down the menu.

“Why did you break up?”

“Well, he didn’t think we could do long distance, with him being here and me traveling with you, so we just… parted right before I started working for you.”

You expect him to make a snarky comment about him, say something about how dumb he looks like, but he just stays silent and it worries you a lot. You want him to feel bitter about running into your ex, you want him to joke about him, to mock him, but he just sits there, eyes back on the menu without a word.

The nice lunch quickly turns awkward thanks to Daniel. The dude keeps coming over to your table, checking in on you and starting small talks that you definitely want to avoid but he just can’t get the hint. Shawn goes radio silent, he seems to shut Daniel’s existence out even though he keeps trying to bring him into the conversation. You realize you’ve been suffocating in there when you finally walk out. Daniel cheered how amazing it was to see you again and that you should definitely meet up and do some catch up sometime, to which you just nodded politely and basically escaped from the place.

“Hey,” you caress Shawn’s arm once you are on the way back to his place. He looks tensed, gripping the wheel like he is trying to crush it. “Everything alright?”

“Sure,” he nods shortly, but it doesn’t convince you.

“That didn’t sound too convincing.”

“Can’t do anything about that,” he replies and you can feel the sass through his tone. Knitting your eyebrows together you stare out the window, wandering what has gotten into him. Did Daniel upset him with something? You don’t remember him saying anything offensive, he just kept talking about you the whole time.

Nothing is said for the rest of the ride and it’s eating you up from the inside. You wish he would just say something, tell you one of his cheesy jokes that you love so much, but his silence is killing you. This wholesome day quickly turned into a mess by just one awkward run in.

Arriving back to his garage the two of you get out of the car as you have to get behind the wheel to drive back home.

“Any plans for the rest of the day?” you ask smiling up at him when you meet him at the back of the car.

“Probably just chilling, nothing exciting,” he shrugs leaning against the trunk. “You? Will you call Daniel?”

His question surprises you, didn’t expect it at all.

“Why would I?”

“Just asking,” he shrugs again and his nonchalance is kind of pissing you off.

“Alright, don’t forget to call Andrew tonight about the interview questions,” you remind him and he just nods, not even looking at you.

You wait a little, hoping he would turn this all around and start acting like himself but he doesn’t show any sign of that so you just give up.

“Thanks for today, see you at the studio on Friday,” you say with a fake smile as you walk past him and get into the car. You’re raging, you want to scream at him for being so unreadable wishing you could just read his mind. You see him in the mirror shaking his head before walking away and disappearing on the staircase.

You stop at the store on your way home and buy a huge box of chocolate ice-cream that doesn’t survive till the morning.

***

The past week has been the weirdest seven days since you met Shawn and you’ve been through a lot together. But that day you spent together just changed everything. Shawn became distant, cold towards you, only talking to you if it was necessary and nothing non-work related has been discussed even though you tried. It feels like he put a wall between the two of you and no matter how hard you’ve been trying to tear it down it just gets stronger and taller and it’s breaking your heart, mostly because you can’t figure out what you did or said to make him act like this.

You’ve been seeing each other constantly for four days since he has been doing interviews, photoshoots and meetings all day and it’s your job to be there and help him out with everything even though you wished you could just work from home. At first you thought it’s just your mind playing with you, making you believe something is off when everything is alright, but when the team goes out for dinner together Andrew pulls you to the side.

“Hey, did… Did something happen between you and Shawn?” he asks in a low tone, glancing over at the table. Shawn seems just fine, joking around with the guys, but whenever you are near him he completely changes.

“What do you mean?”

You try to play dumb, but you can’t fool Andrew.

“What I mean is you two act like you just broke up after three years together and now want the other to die a very painful death.”

“Okay, that’s a little harsh.”

“But it’s close to the reality,” he points out and you can’t argue. Shawn really has been giving you the dirtiest looks lately, making you feel like shit. “Whatever it is, just… work it out because it’s making everyone uncomfortable.”

“Did Brian bitch about it? His word is not accountable, he has a problem with everything,” you narrow your eyes at him, crossing your arms on your chest.

“Brian, Connor, Cez and even Karen called me yesterday because she saw a fan made video of him shrugging your hand off of him and she found it weird.”

That hurt a lot. You ran into a few fans leaving the studio and as usual, he stopped to take pictures, but you were late to his meeting so you gently tapped his shoulder to warn him that it’s time to leave and he just shrugged it off, completely shattering your heart. No one really noticed because you tried to act cool and the fans were too occupied by him, but Karen is more cautious than that.

“Look, I don’t want to get into your personal stuff, but this is starting to get ridiculous. We all know Shawn, he won’t come to you, he is too stubborn to do that so be the bigger person and force him to talk to you. Make up or just start being professional, whatever you find the best, but this is not okay.”

He walks back to the table, leaving you with this bitter taste in your mouth as you glance over at the table. Shawn is listening to Connor’s story, eyes shining, his smile wide and this is the Shawn you love so much. Happy, carefree and delightful, just a generally wonderful person. And you miss him being like that around you, but you have no idea how to get him to tell you why he is acting up.

You keep zoning out on him throughout the dinner, trying to figure out how to talk to him or what to even say. You’ve earned a few puzzled looks from him, but he didn’t even ask if you were alright, just tried to ignore you which felt like someone just twisted the knife in your heart that’s been in you for about a week.

You carpooled with Josiah on the way here so you figure out the best way to make him stay alone with you is if you ask him to give you a ride home.

“Hey, can you drop me off on your way?” you ask when the mood is starting to die down and people start to get ready to leave.

“Can’t Josiah drive you home?” he asks, ruder than you’d have liked, but you try to ignore that.

“He is going out for a night shoot and I don’t want to make him late.”

It’s not entirely a lie, he does have a night shoot he is heading to, but he assured he can drop you off before heading to the location. Shawn doesn’t seem to be too pleased by your idea, but he eventually just nods.

Saying goodbye to everyone you all head out to your own way, Shawn and you walking down the street to his car. You get into the passenger seat, but snatch the key from him before he could ignite.

“What the f—“

“We need to talk,” you cut him off.

“And why do you need to steal my keys for that?!”

“Because I need you to listen to me and you can’t focus when you’re driving.” You arch an eyebrow at him as he stares back at you in disbelief. He then finally crosses his arms on his chest leaning back in his seat, clearly pissed off, but you couldn’t care less.

You take a few deep breaths, trying to find the right words, but nothing feels right so you just say the first thing that comes to your mind.

“Did I do something?” His puzzled look tells you he doesn’t know what you’re talking about, or just refuses to cooperate with you. “Did I say something that upset you or did something happen? Because you’ve been acting weird all week and I just don’t know what to do to make it up to you because I don’t even know what I did wrong.”

He looks away from you, staring out the window and judging from his expression he knows exactly what you are talking about, but refuses to answer.

“Shawn, I can’t do this anymore. We are working together so I need us to be comfortable around each other and communicate. You’re making both very hard for me. Just tell me what’s wrong so I can change.”

“You can’t change this,” he mumbles, his words almost melting together as he barely opens his mouth.

“How do you know that? Just give me a chance!” you beg, desperate to find your answers.

“I know it because… It’s nothing that can be changed that easily!” he growls back, clearly not comfortable with the topic.

“But what is it? Is it the way I handle something? Or something I do that makes you uncomfortable?” you guess trying to figure it out yourself since he doesn’t help you at all. “I promise I won’t get mad, I just want to make things right again!”

“It’s you!” he then snaps, finally turning his head and looking into your eyes.

“What about me?”

“It’s… Everything about you, Y/N.”

“What?” you ask, your voice barely more than just a whisper as his words are basically crushing you.

He exhales sharply shaking his head as he grabs the wheel angrily, smacks his hand to the middle causing the honk to make everyone around the car jump, including you.

“Damn it, Y/N! It’s you! Ever since we met your dumb ex at that restaurant I’ve been wanting to go back and just… punch him in the face! The way he talked about you and the time he was dating you, it was literally killing me! I was so jealous I even considered just standing up and walking out.”

You just blink at him, totally petrified as he loads everything out on you.

“You seemed so nervous to see him and I figured you might still have feelings for him and it’s been driving me crazy to think about you with him. In fact, I don’t want to think about you with anyone at all, because I’m in love with you!”

You feel like you’ve been hit on the head by a brick as his words echo in your mind. He loves you. He really did just confess that he is in love with you and the reason why he has been acting up is because he was jealous of your ex. It takes a few seconds for you to process everything and when you do… you start laughing.

Your uncontrollable guffaw just fills the whole car as you lean ahead, snapping your hands to your thighs over and over again, tears forming in your eyes from the laughing and you just can’t stop. In the meanwhile Shawn is staring at you like you’ve just lost your mind and honestly, he is not entirely wrong.

“Feels nice that you find it so hilarious,” he grumbles under his breath and you force yourself to stop realizing how bad it makes him feel.

“I’m laughing, because… That’s not the case at all!” you manage to say, trying to catch your breath. “When we met Daniel I was so awkward, I just wanted him to be gone because he made me realize how much time I wasted on him back then. I never called him after that because I never want to see him again. The douche probably dumped me because he already had another chick waiting in line and now that I saw that he is still working the same shitty job as two years ago I thanked God I’m not with him anymore.”

“Oh.” Shawn knits his eyebrows together as the story gets straight in his head, realizing he has misinterpreted the whole situation.

“Gosh, I wish you just talked to me!” you sigh, head falling back as you stare up in disbelief. This whole week could have been avoided if only he chose to talk to you like a normal human being, but instead he went out of his way and made you feel miserable. “You know I was going crazy, because I thought I said something that made you hate me and I wished you’d just tell me so everything can get back to normal, but you really fucked me up all week,” you chuckle giving him a look and his cheeks start to turn rosy. “Do you know how much it hurts when the guy you are in love with pretends like you don’t even exist?”

His eyes snap at you and you can’t hold your smile back as you stare back at him.

“Wait, what? You said you are in love with me?” he asks, eyebrows so high they almost disappear in his hair. He looks so cute with his wide, doe-like eyes as he looks at you like you just gave him the most precious gift ever.

“Well, it was a generalization,” you point it out and the moment you see his face fall you quickly add. “But it meant that yes, I am indeed in love with you!”

You stare at him and he stares back at you, nothing is said but still, this silence is saying more than any words could. His hand slowly reaches over to your hands that are gripping onto the keys and as his palm wraps around your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze you can feel your whole heart melting.

“Let’s… Let’s leave this parking lot, okay?” he suggests and you nod, suddenly feeling nervous around him as you hand his keys back to him.

The car ride is quiet, but you exchange many glances and every time your eyes meet with his your heart skips a beat. You notice that instead of heading to your home he is driving on the way to his place. When the car rolls down into the underground garage of his building and he parks it to his usual spot you sit there silently.

“Look, I don’t want to rush anything and I know that you are probably concerned about working for me, but I think we should give it a try,” he softly says peeking over at you to see your reaction. “Spend the night here, we don’t have to do anything, I just want to wake up next to you without having the worst hangover,” he chuckles and you start laughing too.

“So I don’t have to clean up your puke if I stay?” you joke and he shakes his head no.

“Promise, the bucket will stay clean all night.”

“What a bummer,” you smile at him and reaching over he tugs your hair behind your ear as you close your eyes at his touch.

“So, are you staying?” he softly asks and judging from where his voice is coming from he has leant closer to you. A smile spreads across your face, but you don’t open your eyes just yet.

“Mm-hmm” you hum and opening your eyes you see that his face is only a few inches away from you, a satisfied grin sits on his pink lips.

“Great,” he whispers before closing the distance between you and him and finally kissing you.

It’s a slow, lazy but sweet kiss as you both savior the taste of each other, getting used to the feeling, but both of you seem to click very soon and he deepens the kiss while you cup his cheeks in your palms as you keep tugging and pulling at each other over the shifting gear.

Oh man, you’re not sure if Andrew meant the makeup like this, but now he will have to deal with it, because there’s no way you can keep your hands off of him from now on.

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