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naturallytom · 3 years

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Mending a Broken Heart (Tom Holland x reader, alternative part)

a/n: me? writing? unheard of. jk im tryin to get back into the groove!! this is an alternate version to Mending a Broken Heart, so some parts are the same and some I’ve edited or added some things! hope u enjoy!!

warnings: language, angst, mentions of cheating

please reblog/leave feedback!!

picture not mine!

You had noticed it for months. Tom has been pulling away, spending more time out with the boys than at home with you. His kisses became forced and the words ‘love you’ slowly stopped falling from his lips.

Most days he would leave for work before you woke up and on the rare occasion you were up when he left, he would mumble a ‘goodbye’ before walking out the door. Sometimes, if you were lucky, he would press a gentle kiss to your forehead. Most times, though, he would just leave.

You did your best to keep the love alive, you were still madly in love with him. The wedding band that sat tightly on your ring finger mocked you. A symbol of what was love has turned into one sided love. Hell, you weren’t sure if Tom wore his wedding ring anymore.

A quick glance to his left hand would reveal that he didn’t.

You spent your nights wondering if it was something you did. Were you too clingy when he left to film? Was he just tired of you after four years of marriage? Did he find someone else?

No. You shook your head to yourself one night as you laid in the bed by yourself, the space usually occupied by Tom cold. If he found someone else and if he cheated, that’s on him. Not on you.

Still, the thought plagued your mind. Did he meet someone else? Was she prettier than you? Is that where he was when he said he was out with the boys? Was she able to give him something you couldn’t give him?

The door opening and shutting alerted you that Tom was home. You sighed, knowing it’d be another night of sleeping on opposite sides of the bed.

The door to the bedroom opened and in came Tom, Tessa jumping up to greet him.

“Hey girl, hey love, how are you, hm?” He whispered, petting Tessa as his eyes flickering over to you, who was visibly awake. “Thought you’d be asleep by now. ‘S late.”

“Couldn’t sleep.” You replied simply. “Hey so I was thinking, we haven’t had a date night in a while, maybe you wanted to go out to see the Halloween decorations around town and get dinner tomorrow night?”

“Can’t,” He shook his head as he got ready for bed. “Harrison wants to watch the game. Told him I’d go.”

“Didn’t you just see Harrison tonight?”

“Yeah, and?”

“Nothing.” You sighed, obviously upset. “Nothing, Tom. Goodnight.”

“Night.” He responded, turning out the light and climbing into bed, falling asleep with his back toward you.

The next day, you were surprised to see Tom already awake and waiting in the kitchen, sipping on a cup of tea when you got downstairs.

“Good morning.” You smiled softly.

“We need to talk.” He told you. You felt your heart drop and your palms get sweaty, but you wiped them on your pajama pants in an effort to seem totally calm and not panicked.

“A-About what?” You asked, your voice coming out shaky.

“I think,” Tom started. “I think we should get divorced.”

It was then, at 8:30 am that your world came crashing down.

“W-What?” You whimpered out, your voice weaker than before. “Why?”

“I’m not happy with you anymore.” He said simply. Your eyes flickered to his left hand, noticing the absence of the golden wedding band, making your heart ache.

“We can try couples’ therapy. We can go on dates like we used to, Tom, please! We can fight for this, Tom. Fight for us.” You cried, your heart shattering into a million tiny pieces, each one puncturing your lungs as you struggled to keep your breath under control.

“No,” He shook his head. “My mind is made up. I’m sorry, y/n. Um, I found a lawyer at a firm, they have a lot of other lawyers there you can contact. I’ll just, uh, leave their card here.”

“So that’s it? Three years of dating and four years of marriage down the drain?” You sobbed, holding your knees to your chest as you sat on the kitchen floor.

“I’m sorry, y/n. Truly, I am.”

He placed the small business card on the counter, grabbing the bags you didn’t even notice, mumbling an ‘I’ll be staying with Haz,’ before walking out the front door, like he did every other day. This time, though, you had the sinking feeling he was leaving for good.

It was only three weeks that your lawyer came over to meet with you, joined by Tom and his lawyer. You kept your eyes focused on the table as you signed the paperwork, wanting to get this done as soon as possible.

As soon as everyone left, you shut the door, slid down the back of it, and cried.

Nearly two months after the worst day of your life and it was time for a self care night. The ring that once sat on your left hand was buried away in your jewelry box somewhere and you were finally starting to feel free and somewhat happy again after crying yourself to sleep and wondering where it all went wrong for months.

After the divorce you buried yourself in work, using it as a distraction from going home to an empty house. You also moved out of the house you once called home. Not only was it too painful to go home to an empty house, but it was too painful to go home to a house that held so many happy and loving memories. You took the necessities along with some things you wanted with you and set yourself up in a hotel room for the time being. You treated it as a vacation. Except only a few people knew where you were. Your family knew, along with your friends, including Harrison, on the condition he didn’t tell Tom where you were. You started making time for yourself in your little hotel room and you became happier.

Tonight, after a long day of work, you ordered your favorite Chinese food, played your favorite songs, and ran yourself a bath with a vanilla scented bath bomb. You were enjoying a glass of wine, the hot water of the bath soothing you when the music playing from your phone was interrupted by a call coming in.

To your surprise, it was Tom. You contemplated answering it, but instead, let it go to voicemail. However, you were curious as to why he called, though you were also 99% positive it was a pocket dial. So you played the voicemail, the familiar voice ringing throughout the bathroom.

“Hey y/n, um, I hope you’re doing well. I just called because I wanted to tell you something. I um, I miss you. A lot. And I know I don’t get to feel that way but I do and I just wanted to tell you that and I guess ask if there was any possibility of meeting to talk? Uh, call me back if...if you want. I don’t blame you if you hate me. Bye. Love y-”

You turned off the voicemail before the phrase could be finished. Millions of thoughts filled your mind, ranging from happy ones to ones that made your heart ache and tears fill your eyes.

You decided to ignore it, pretend it never happened, and enjoy your self care night.

When Tom pulled up to his former house with flowers in his car and a pit of nerves in his stomach, he expected to see your car in the driveway and at least one light to be on. He was greeted with an empty driveway and a dark house, which confused him. It was the weekend, so you weren’t work. Maybe you had to run an errand?

But after 20 minutes, he gave up hope that you were home and tried to call you, which to no surprise, you didn’t pick up again. He instead called Harrison in an effort to try and find out if he knew where you were.

“What do you want?” Harrison answered, half concentrating on what Tom was about to say and half concentrating on the game in front of him.

“Do, uh, do you know where y/n is?” Tom asked, taking Harrison by surprise.

“y/n?” Harrison paused the game, suddenly not able to concentrate on it. “Why d’you want to know where y/n is?”

“I just want to talk to her.” He mumbled.

“If I knew that’s where you were going I wouldn’t have let you go.” Harrison sighed. “Listen she made me swear that I wouldn’t tell you-”

“Please Harrison? You’ve seen how much of a mess I’ve been. I just want to see if I have a shot.” Tom begged, making his friend cave.

“Fine but if she moves again I won’t be telling you shit.”

The next day you were enjoying a cup of tea and reading your book, getting some relaxation in before your week began when a knock on the door interrupted you. Confusion filled your body, you weren’t expecting anyone to pop by.

Looking out the peephole, you froze at the sight that greeted you. Tom was standing outside your door, a bouquet of your favorite flowers in his hands.

“Hi.” He breathed out, his nose and the tips of his ears red from the harsh winter air.

“How the hell did you find me?” You asked, keeping your eyes focused on the ground.

“Harrison. I begged him to tell me.” He answered.

“I’m gonna kill him.” You muttered. “What do you want?”

“Can..Can I come in?” He asked.

You wanted to say no, that he could say what he wanted to say outside or just not let him speak at all. But you wanted to be courteous to the other people on your floor and part of you was curious as to what he was going to say. So you wordlessly opened the door slightly, letting him in and closing the door behind him.

“Now what do you want?”

“Did you get my voicemail?” He responded, hope filling his eyes when you nodded. “Um, I brought these for you. I was hoping we could talk.”

“I don’t want your flowers. Why should I talk to you? We’re divorced, just like you wanted.” Tom winced at the words. “Nothing to change.”

“Actually, we’re not.” He corrected. “I called the office the other day. Um, it’s not official yet.”

“Well then they should make it official. Maybe I can call them and make it happen as my very last Christmas present to you. Just what you wanted.” You snapped.

“No, this isn’t what I want, can I speak, please?” He pleaded, his eyes resembling those of a puppy.

“You’re speaking already.” You answered, gesturing for him to continue nonetheless.

“I- How have you been? I stopped by the house-”

“Tom I’m not gonna listen to your small talk. Say what you have to say and leave.” You told him. His heart broke but he couldn’t blame you.

“Um, so I thought I wasn’t happy with you but um, as time went on, I realized how much I miss having you in my life.” He began, visibly nervous. “I was just looking through our pictures and how happy you looked and I just, I guess I realized I wanted to be the one to make you that happy again.”

“You haven’t made me happy in months, Tom.”

“I know.” His heart clenched. “I know and I’m so sorry, y/n. I really am.”

“Was there someone else? Did you cheat on me?” You asked.

“No, no absolutely not, y/n.” He answered before adding; “I went on a date with someone after we split up but it didn’t work out. I realized she wasn’t what I want.”

“Of course she wasn’t.” You scoffed.

“I want you, y/n. I want to spend the rest of my life making you happy again.” He told you, tears filling your eyes. “Is there..is there any possibility you could love me again?”

“Again?” You seethed. “Tom I never fell out of love with you! I never stopped loving you! That was all you! You stopped loving me and you wanted this stupid fucking divorce!”

“I..I don’t think I ever stopped loving you either.” He whispered, tears falling down his rosy cheeks. “Please, y/n, if there’s even the tiniest chance..”

“Of what, Tom? Of going right back to being married? Of you making me happy? I don’t know, Tom! I don’t know anything except that I hate you right now.” You sobbed, crying into your knees while Tom let out quiet sobs of his own, his heart clenching at the lack of wedding band on your left hand and the lack of love in your voice, but especially your eyes. Your eyes, which once held so much love and adoration for him were now full of anger and resentment.

“Of..anything, y/n. Please, I just want a second chance to show you how much you mean to me, to make you happy again. I will do anything to save us, anything you want. And...and if it’s not working or you just really hate me, I wouldn’t blame you. Not at all.” He begged, his eyes puffy and red.

“I tried to save us, Tom. Don’t you remember? I begged and pleaded with you to do couples therapy to go on dates when you were breaking my heart into a million tiny pieces. I begged you to try and fight for us, for our marriage, but you just walked out the god damn door!” You spit through gritted teeth.

“I fucked up, I know. I fucked up so badly.” He cried, wiping his tears away.

“And if leaving me wasn’t enough, you took Tessa too! I was left completely alone in that big fucking house that was haunted by you. I couldn’t stand it.” You sobbed.

“I’m..I’m sorry, y/n. So so fucking sorry. What do you want me to do?”

“I want...I want you to hurt. I want you to hurt the way you hurt me. I want you to know how this fucking feels.” You said, your voice getting louder with each word that fell from your lips.

Tom could only cry. This was ripping him apart, he couldn’t even imagine what the whole thing felt like to you.

“I’m gonna need time to think, Tom.” You finally mumbled, Tom nodding in response.

“I’ll give you all the time you need. I promise you-”

“Don’t. Don’t promise me anything.” You spoke, your voice low. “You won’t be able to keep it. You promised you’d love me forever four years ago and look what happened.”

“y/n pl-”

“You don’t get to do this. You-you don’t get to just waltz right back in here and ask for a second chance to fight for us when I didn’t even get a first chance. How do I know this won’t end like it did before?”

“y/n, I swear to you, if this isn’t working out, you can leave me. I...I just want a chance to prove myself to you.” He begged.

“God, Tom. You don’t get it! I’m not going through this again. Do you realize how much you broke me the first time? Fuck, you had a chance, Tom. And you threw it away.” You muttered quietly.

“I regret that every day. Every god damn day.” He told you honestly.

“I don’t know, Tom.” You sighed.

“Talk to me?” He tried, knowing you were hiding something deeper than an ‘I don’t know.’

“Don’t know what else there is to say.” You mumbled. “I don’t trust you, I-I can’t trust you. I hate you.”

“Why’d you get a hotel room?” Tom sniffled, changing the subject.

“I told you. I hated being in that house. Hated being surrounded by the happy pictures and memories of us.” You told him honestly. “I want to start over.”

“What?”

“I want to start over. I can’t go back to being emotionally married to you even if we’ll still be married legally. I’m talking starting from scratch, as if we were meeting for the first time, the whole deal.” You told him.

“That sounds perfect, y/n. Thank y-”

“Get out, Tom. Please. I just want to be alone and not with you right now. I’m still not happy with you.”

“Okay.” He breathed out, hope filling him once again. “You won’t regret this, I promise.”

“What did I just say about promises?” You asked tearily.

“I know, I know. I’m determined to keep this promise, though.” He told you.

“Fine. Whatever. Just please leave for now.” You whimpered, watching as he walked out the door, just like he did when he broke your heart.

You decided you needed another self care night. Another bath was run, another vanilla scented bath bomb was used, more wine was consumed.

Tom texted you right as you got out of the bath.

Tom: hey y/n, it’s tom, just incase you don’t have my number saved anymore. I just wanted to say thank you for the second chance. I really am grateful. I hope you have a relaxing night, you deserve it.

You rolled your eyes and tossed your phone gently on your bed, though you could feel your heart rate pick up and butterflies fill your stomach.

Tom began texting you sweet little things each morning, whether it was to let you know that he’s been thinking of you or to tell you that he hopes you have a great day. At first you ignored them, but then you began responding in short answers of one or two words until the two of you were texting every day, like when you met for the first time seven years ago.

Over a month after you started texting again, Tom took you on a first date. Pulling up to your hotel, Tom felt the nerves fill his body as he walked up to your door and knocked, another bouquet of your favorite flowers in his hand.

He felt all the air leave his lungs as you opened the door. You looked absolute stunning. You were wearing a navy blue dress that reached down to just above your knees, one Tom bought you one year.

“Wow, hi.” He breathed. “You look stunning.”

“Thank you.” You smiled, accepting the flowers he handed you. “I’ll be right back.”

Tom took you to your favorite restaurant that night, one that the two of you frequented when you (formerly) went on dates.

When he took you back to your hotel, he walked you up to the door, where he nervously asked if he could kiss you.

You said yes, and that was all Tom needed to press a soft kiss to your lips. The kiss was magical, both of you felt the sparks between the two of you.

“God I missed doing that.” Tom mumbled as he pulled away to breathe.

“Then do it again.”

A couple months after that, Tom moved back in with you. You had gone back to the house every now and then, to slowly acclimate yourself to being back in the once happy house, only fully moving back when Tom moved back as well. The pictures of the two of you were dusted off, making your heart race instead of hurt at the sight of the happy memories.

Finally, after a year, Tom proposed to you (again). You hesitated a little bit, still scared it would end in heartbreak again, which broke Tom’s heart, but said you yes in the end.

The two of you renewed your vows, putting on the golden bands that were once again a symbol of the love the two of you shared.

You had a small party back at your house after the ceremony, your families joining to celebrate. You found Tom alone in the kitchen, grabbing a beer for him and Harry.

“Hey.” You greeted, fiddling with your fingers as tears of happiness filled your eyes.

“Hey, what’s wrong, my love?” Tom asked, concerned as soon he saw the tears filling your eyes.

“Nothing, nothing. I, um,” You started, wiping your tears away and wrapping your arms around Tom’s neck. “I’m really glad we made it back to this.”

“Me too, lovey. I love you so much.” He whispered, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

“Hey, Tommy?”

“Yeah?”

“You kept your promise.” You smiled softly, making Tom’s heart ache at the memory of you not being able to trust him.

“I told you I would.”

Your moment was interrupted by Harrison, who entered the kitchen, smiling at his two best friends happily in love once again.

“Aren’t you so glad I told him where you were staying?” He joked, making you roll your eyes.

“Shut up, Harrison.” You smiled. As your eyes flickered between Tom and Harrison, though, you knew you wouldn’t have been in this position if Harrison didn’t spill the beans to Tom.

“Hey Haz?” You called, as Harrison went to leave the kitchen in fake offense. He turned at the sound of his name, knowing what was coming.

“Thank you.” Tom nodded in agreement, his arm slipping around your waist.

Harrison just smiled even bigger, all three of you knowing everything would be okay from now on.

#tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland angst #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fanfic #tom holland fic #tom holland imagine #tom holland x fem!reader #tom holland x female!reader

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soobmint · 4 years

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paper hearts | choi soobin [f] ; [c] 80s! au, 9.6k words

s u m m a r y ; if there was one thing you wanted to avoid on valentine’s day, it was running into your ex best friend, choi soobin. but when a series of unfortunate events involving too much purple eyeshadow, drunken punches, and one stolen bicycle leads you right back to his side, you begin to realize that maybe you truly belonged with him all along.

c o n t e n t s ; soobin x fem!reader, 80s! au, valentine’s day, ex best friend! soobin, rich boy! soobin, but he’s a major dweeb and the biggest softie, yeonjun is a major prick (i’m so sorry junnie), reader is a part time worker, soobin is best friends with lee felix of stray kids, some themes of social classes, roughly inspired by the 80s movie “pretty in pink,” mentions drugs, alcohol, and single parent households, mostly just fluff, fluff, and more fluff, with a hint of crack/humor

n o t e ; hello friends! this was a very quickly planned, last minute valentine’s day idea, and it’s actually a collab with one of my dearest friends, @chanluster ! she posted her piece of the collab as well, you can check it out by going to the collab masterlist here! this was so much fun to write and i think that 80s! soobin was just too good of a concept to pass up! anyways, happy valentine’s day, i hope you enjoy this oneshot! do leave a like, reblog, or comment if you could, it really helps so much <3

[back to my masterlist] [oneshot playlist]

IF ONE MORE CUT-OUT, CRAFT-PAPER HEART HIT YOU IN THE FACE, YOU WERE GOING TO QUIT YOUR JOB.

Of course you would never actually quit. With your mother out of the picture and your father working nonstop overtime just to barely have enough cash to put food on the table for the both of you, you had come to rely on your minimum wage part-time hours more than you liked to admit. However, the handmade strings of paper hearts that hung from wall to wall throughout the entirety of the record shop you were employed at was enough to make you consider it; not to mention the Phil Collins record that had been spinning all day, filling your ears with melodies embodying the very air of romance, and the embarrassing pink sweater your boss had forced you to wear. You mumbled curses beneath your breath as you pulled at the collar, itching away at your neck.

When you made a step towards a crate full of records, ready to tidy it up after a customer had rummaged through it leaving it a mess, you were met with another face full of cheap red construction paper. With a large growl of exasperation, you swatted at the hearts and accidentally caused the entire string of them to fall to the ground. You cleared your throat, glad that no customers were present to see your little outburst.

Your boss, Jen, still saw it all.

“That’s not very festive of you, kid,” She said, taking a drag on her cigarette. “It’s Valentine’s Day! Lighten up.”

“Ah, my bad. I forgot that I was supposed to be overjoyed on the day honoring the execution of St. Valentine,” You said as you gave her a sarcastic smile. “I’ll make sure to smile at the next couple that walks in and ask them how they plan to contribute to the commercialization of a martyr’s death.”

“You must be real fun at parties,” Jen mumbled. She shook her cigarette at you from behind the counter. “You’re just bitter because you don’t have a valentine. I can’t blame anyone for giving you the cold shoulder with that attitude of yours.”

You scowled, picking up the string of hearts that you had sent crashing to the floor. “I’m not bitter, and I don’t want a date. Also, I told you to stop smoking inside! It smells awful.”

“Last I checked, this was my shop, not yours.” You rolled your eyes as you approached the counter, handing the discarded string to Jen so she could throw it in the trash. “Now you’re making me do chores for you too? You’ve got some nerve, I’ll give you that.”

“Jen, please, I’m really not in the mood for this today.”

Jen shrugged, bending towards the trash can to throw away the string of hearts when she paused and pulled something from the bin. You glanced over your shoulder and gasped when you saw what she held in her hand—a small red envelope with your name scrawled across the front and a pink heart-shaped sticker stuck on the back.

“What’s this?” Jen asked, opening the envelope and shaking out the contents. A single slip of paper fell out, landing atop the counter. You rushed to grab it, but Jen snatched it up just before your fingers reached the countertop.

“Give me that,” You insisted, face growing warm. “I threw it away for a reason!”

“It’s an invitation to a party?” She seemed beyond surprised, glancing back and forth between you and the paper several times. “You got invited to a Valentine’s Day party, and instead of going, you asked me to give you extra hours? Why?”

You looked down at your feet, digging the toe of your sneaker into the blue carpet. There were, in fact, many reasons why you did not want to go to that party. They were as follows:

One: Choi Yeonjun was the one who had invited you. After you had rejected his offer when he asked to take you to a basketball game a month before, you could barely make eye contact with him in the school hallway without feeling guilty. That and the fact that he was one of the richest preps in the school, you knew he had just been asking you out for some sort of prank or dare that you preferred to not potentially fall victim to.

Two: you needed to work as much as you could. Money, as always, was tight for you and your father. There was no way you would sacrifice precious hours to go to a party full of rich kids where nothing but humiliation was sure to await you.

Three: your old childhood friend and the one person you couldn’t bear to see was probably going to be there—Choi Soobin.

You had barely spoken to Soobin in the four years you had been in high school. Crossing paths with him in the cafeteria, turning down the same aisle of books as him in the library, all those tiny stolen glances and accidental encounters were the only bits of interaction you had kept throughout all that time. The worst part was, he hadn’t done anything wrong.

It was nothing but your own cowardice that had driven the two of you apart, and you were still too afraid to own up to it.

Instead of explaining all of this to Jen, you simply shrugged and said, “I dunno. It just sounds lame.”

Your boss sighed, holding the invitation out towards you. “Okay, I’m letting you off early. Go to the party.”

With wide eyes, you shook your head immediately. “Absolutely not. Why in the world would I go?”

“Well, first of all, it’s a once in a lifetime opportunity for you. Who knows when your next chance to go to a party will be.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at that.

“Second, it’s a holiday! The only reason I even opened today was because you were begging me for hours. I thought it was because you were bummed about having no plans, but clearly it’s because you wanted an excuse to be a recluse.”

“Hey, I’m not a recluse.”

“Clearly.” She shook the invitation at you once more, brows raised. “If you go, I’ll raise your pay by fifty cents for the next month.”

Your ears perked up at that.

“Well?” She asked, well aware that she had hit the jackpot. “What'd ya say?”

Weighing the risks against the benefits, you bit the inside of your cheek.

“Make it a dollar and you’ve got a deal.”

“HAPPY VALENTINE’S, CHOI.”

When Soobin heard the sarcastic remark coming from his best friend, Felix, he had to fight back the urge to burst into tears then and there. He still wasn’t quite sure how Felix had convinced him to come, but he was already regretting it. The last thing he wanted to do to celebrate the day dedicated to love was spend it at a house party—or, as Soobin preferred to call them, any outcast high school kid’s version of hell on earth.

With a quick peek between his fingers, which he had used to cover his eyes immediately upon arriving at the site of the Valentine’s party, Soobin caught another eye-full of couples getting all too familiar with one another out in the open. He gulped, letting his hands grip the handles of the bike as he averted his gaze, choosing to cast his best glare at Felix, who was busy adjusting his ever-present beanie.

“Shut up,” he murmured, slowly sliding off the seat of his bike. He dusted off the worn, tearing cushion, glancing around the area. “Now quick, we gotta put our stuff somewhere safe.”

Felix looked aghast, making no moves to help Soobin in his search for a hiding spot. “What are you doing?”

“Tryna find a safe place for my bike?” He thought the answer to be somewhat obvious, but clearly Felix wasn’t on the same track of thinking. “You don’t know today’s world! Anyone is willing to steal nowadays.”

“Soobin, your bike is coughing up oil from its chains. It should be in its own care home at this rate.”

“I don’t wanna hear your slander, skater boy,” Soobin retorted, eyeing Felix’s ebony skateboard that he refused to be seen without. As if on cue, when he pushed his bike forward, the chains squealed, drawing the attention of a pair of particularly passionate individuals who had been wrapped up with one another moments before. Soobin ignored their annoyed stares, feeling his ears burn from embarrassment. He glanced back to Felix. “Help me find a hiding spot.”

Felix was anything but enthusiastic, but he began to help Soobin search nonetheless.

“Slide it in here, Soobs,” Felix called a few moments later. He was pointed to an empty space between the home’s perfectly trimmed bushes. Soobin pursed his lips together, pushing his large glasses further up the bridge of his nose—a nervous tick of his. Felix groaned, rolling his eyes. “Or you can leave it out in the open so it’ll spit more oil on the passersby? Is that what you want?”

“Fine, fine!” Soobin huffed, wheeling his bike over to the shrubbery, chains squeaking all the way. He carefully laid it beneath the brush and moved a few branches to cover it up nicely. He stood up straight, dusting his hands on the front of his loose blue jeans. “What about your skateboard?”

Felix gave the board a pat, awarding his most prized possession a dazzling smile one would expect to see a proud father giving his beloved son. But in reality, it was the school’s stoner grinning ear to ear at his old, dusty skateboard. “Nightrider stays with me.”

Soobin scrunched his nose, cringing on instinct. He still calls that thing by that stupid name?

Felix clapped him on the shoulder before he could make a remark, catching him off guard when he said, “Right. Let’s go and get your girl.”

There was nothing Soobin could do to stop the flush that rushed to his cheeks right away. Images of you, his ex-best friend and the only reason he had even come to this party in the first place, flashed through his mind. Had he not overheard Yeonjun invite you earlier that morning and then casually mention the encounter to Felix, there was no way he would have even stepped foot out of his house that night. Part of him was peeved, wishing he had never uttered a single word about you to his overbearing friend. Yet, deep down, there was hope within him—the tiniest sliver.

If there was even the slightest chance that he could talk to you that night, he would do anything. Even if it meant dealing with a stupid party, and the never-ceasing teasing he was bound to continue receiving from Felix.

“Don’t even say that,” He said, emphasizing each word as they walked up the front steps. Soobin had to glance down at his much shorter friend to see the devious grin on his freckled face.

“Say what? That she’s your girl, your woman, your one and only?”

The blush must have been creeping to his neck by that point. He could feel it. “I. . .” There were many things Soobin wished to say; angry words that would hopefully shut the blonde skater boy up real quick. But he couldn’t bring himself to say a single harsh word, so he sighed in defeat. “I can’t even say it.”

“That you hate me?” Felix only grinned even bigger, and Soobin couldn’t help the tiny defeated smile that slipped over his features. “Oh, I know. It’s because I’m too good of a best friend.”

They stepped into the house then, instantly being overwhelmed by loud music, boisterous laughter, and drunken yells echoing throughout the halls. Soobin latched onto Felix right away, gripping his friend’s sleeve as someone stumbled into him, a bit of beer spilling from their cup. He pushed his glasses up, only for them to slide right back down as he began to sweat.

“Maybe we should go home, Lix!” Soobin shouted to be heard over the noise as they travelled further into the house. “We can always try next year!”

“Stop being a scaredy-cat!” Felix shouted back, and Soobin thought he might actually begin to cry as they squeezed their way into the living room. Soobin nearly gagged at the strong smell of alcohol as it burned in his nose. The scene was nothing short of a nightmare to Soobin—loud voices, smoke rising in the air, vodka assaulting his nose and sweat beading on the back of his neck. He had never been one to drink, and he didn’t plan on starting that night; but he was beginning to understand what Felix meant when he had once told him it was nearly impossible to get through one of these parties sober.

He was about to make another complaint and beg to leave when someone from the crowd hollered his name, causing him to wince when he recognized that voice as the one that belonged to none other than Choi Yeonjun.

“Soobin! Where you been?”

Soobin smiled nervously at the school’s heartthrob—and textbook snobby rich kid—before he turned back to Felix. He didn’t want to leave his friend, but he knew that he would never hear the end of it if he ignored Yeonjun’s persistent calls. “I’ll be right back,” He promised Felix, still holding onto his sleeve.

“No, no,” Felix assured. “You go. You’ll probably find her around that place anyway.”

Soobin wasn’t so sure of that. You were definitely not of the right social standing to be caught amongst the circle of the school’s rich boys—which was why it had surprised Soobin that Yeonjun had invited you to the party in the first place. Your high school had its own caste system, and you were near the bottom of it.

And, as much as it pained him to admit it, Soobin was stuck at the very top with all the other rich snobs who cared about nothing more than their daily allowances that came straight from their daddy’s bank account.

“What about you, buddy?” He asked Felix, desperate for any excuse to remain by his friend’s side. He would have tried to bring Felix with him, but his friend was in an even worse social standing than you were—he was poor, and he was most known for being the school’s pothead. There was no way Soobin would willingly drag him into a situation where nothing but slander and torment awaited him.

“Me?” Felix shrugged, gripping his board tighter. “I’ll just smoke away the night.”

Soobin pouted, glancing back at the group of preps as they called for him once again. He sighed, clapping Felix on the shoulder. “Just make sure you won’t smell too much of it when I come back.”

Submitting himself to his doom then, he turned on his heel and slowly made his way to where the group of boys sat near the sofa, giving them a half-hearted wave.

“Why were you hanging around that Felix guy?” Yeonjun asked once Soobin had reached their circle. “Did he blackmail you or something?”

Soobin frowned, pushing his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “He’s my friend.”

Yeonjun rolled his eyes, brushing a hand through his perfectly-straightened ebony locks. “Sure he is. Tell me, do you see every kid you find on the streets as some sort of personal charity project? Or is it just Felix and—what was her name—” He snapped his fingers then before he said, “Y/N, right?”

Soobin didn’t respond—well, it was more like he couldn’t respond. By nature he was a very passive being, but nothing drew him closer to bouts of anger than when the people he cared about were being insulted right before him.

Especially when it came to you.

Yet, as much as he wanted to tell Yeonjun off or give him a nice shove into the smoke-stained walls, words failed him. They always did. Perhaps this was why you had abandoned him all those years ago. Nobody knew him better than you did, so of course you were able to see what he truly was beneath all the expensive clothes and nervous laughter—a coward.

He figured that he’d probably have left himself too.

“Drink up, buttercup.” The chipper voice that belonged to the other Choi in the small gathering of socialites, Choi Beomgyu, thrust a plastic red cup towards Soobin’s chest.

He shook his head, throwing another wavering smile in his direction. “No thanks. I don’t drink.”

Yeonjun rolled his eyes. “Of course you don’t. Why are you even here then?”

Once again, Soobin chose silence as his only response. He swallowed, patting the front pocket of his denim jacket. As the group of boys began conversing once more, he couldn’t help but let his eyes wander around the room, searching every drunken face for the features that belonged to you, trying to hear your name in every conversation, desperate for your voice to break through the blasting music and shouting voices.

“Who ya looking for there, Big Choi?” Soobin grimaced at the nickname. He was skinny, but incredibly tall, and nobody would let him forget that. “Big Choi” was one of his most common nicknames among the elitists. He despised it, but of course, he would never voice that aloud.

He glanced at Beomgyu and smiled nervously again, shaking his head. “Nobody.”

His eyes met Yeonjun’s and he gulped yet again as the latter eyed him with suspicion. It wasn’t as though he had anything to hide, but something about Yeonjun’s calculating gaze made his skin crawl.

He needed to escape. Just for a moment, at least.

“I’ll be right back. Going to find some water.”

He slipped out of the living room then, apologizing profusely to each couple he accidentally bumped into, bowing in remorse to each person’s toes his big feet happened to stumble over. He ached to be by Felix’s side—the stoned skateboarder had become somewhat of a security blanket to the taller of the duo—but his blonde friend was nowhere to be seen.

After snagging a bottle of water from the kitchen, Soobin managed to slip into an empty bathroom. He slammed the door shut and wasted no time in locking it. Letting out the biggest sigh of relief, he closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the door, taking a big gulp of the ice cold water.

He set the bottle on the counter and carefully reached into the front pocket of his jacket, his fingers finding the piece of paper he had been storing there all evening. He pulled it out and let his eyes wander over his middle school creation. It was a big heart, cut out from a scrap piece of red construction paper. Scrawled across it in his eight-grade handwriting were the words, Be mine this Valentine’s! His name was etched at the bottom, and at the very top, delicately printed in hot pink glitter glue, your name was written as well.

He had planned to give this to you four years ago on Valentine’s day. Everything had been planned out perfectly; he was to pick you up on his old, trusty bike. It wasn’t really made for two people, but the two of you had fashioned a makeshift extra seat for you to sit upon whenever you went places together.

He wanted to take you to the Dairy Shack, which was the local ice cream shop where the two of you spent the most time together. You always got a large chocolate shake to share, playing a quick game of rock, paper, scissors to decide who got to eat the cherry on top. He was going to order a shake and specially ask for two cherries that time, and planned to give both of them to you before he would bravely present you with the handmade card he had spent all day working on.

However, when he waited for you outside your house that day, the red dusk turned to pitch black night, and you never stepped foot out your door.

He had even gone up to your door a few times and knocked, but there was no answer. Eventually he pedalled off into the night, back to his house. He was disappointed, of course, but more worried than anything else. He had hoped you weren’t sick.

But when he saw you at school the next day, he knew that hadn’t been the case.

And when you ignored him calling your name as you passed by him in the hallways, he knew that something had drastically changed.

For weeks, Soobin was in great turmoil as he replayed your last few encounters together before you had stood him up. Perhaps you were angry that he had won the last few games of rock, paper, scissors? If he had known, he would have given you all the cherries for the rest of time if it meant you would still talk to him. He didn’t care about them—he cared about you.

He missed you.

And as weeks turned to months, and months turned to years, you still barely spoke to him, and he missed you more and more. The best friend he had wanted to take a step closer to had taken a thousand steps back from him, and he still had no idea why.

But that night, he was determined to find out.

Well, if he could muster up the courage to get a single word out, of course.

He folded the heart back up and stuck it back in his pocket, taking a deep breath as he observed himself in the fogged-up mirror. He fixed his bright blue hair that Felix had helped him bleach and dye, making sure the pieces fell over the corners of his eyes just right. He straightened his white turtleneck and cuffed the sleeves of his denim jacket until he was at least somewhat content with his appearance.

“You can do this, Soobs,” He told himself, adjusting his big round glasses further up the bridge of his nose. “That’s what Felix would say.”

“Hey, rich boy!” A loud scream came from outside the bathroom door, accompanied by harsh knocking that sent Soobin stumbling backwards until he fell in the shower, pulling the curtains down with him.

“Hurry up in there! I’m about to piss myself!”

Soobin let out a shaky sigh, scrambling to his feet as he rushed to fix the curtain he had torn down with his clumsiness. “Sorry,” he mumbled, though he doubted the person on the other side of the door could hear him.

He realized then with an ever growing dread that it would be a miracle if he survived the night long enough to even find you, but it would take the work of God himself for him to actually speak to you.

He figured it was time for him to start praying.

YOU KNEW IT WAS A MISTAKE TO LET JEN DO YOUR MAKEUP.

When she had stopped you on your way out the door with a compact of bright purple eyeshadow, you had turned her down right away. No way in all of creation were you walking in a party with such an atrocious color caked up to your brow bone.

“How can you say it’s gonna look bad if you haven’t even let me try?” Jen had asked.

You had given her a once-over, your lips pressed into a thin line. “If it’s gonna look anything like the way you do your own makeup, I’m gonna have to pass.”

After that snide remark, she had threatened to fire you if you didn’t let her apply the makeup. And so you obliged, though you didn’t have much of a choice.

The booming sounds of the party hit your ears before you had even reached the lawn. Screaming teens—well, there were probably some adults thrown in there as well—and the sound of music spilled through the open windows of the home. Couples and singles alike were scattered throughout the perfectly kept lawn that was now littered with empty cups and other assortments of garbage.

You looked down at your patchwork jeans and pink sweater, certain that you would be underdressed compared to the rest of the partygoers. But from the looks of things, as you carefully squeezed your way through the front door and into the home, everyone was probably too wasted to even notice your arrival, let alone care about your looks.

You caught a glimpse of your face in the hallway mirror, cringing at the sight of your eyeshadow. You had tried to wipe some of it away before arriving, but it simply smudged, giving you quite the shocking smoky, purple eye look. For someone who didn’t even know the difference between a paintbrush and a makeup brush, it was a bold look, to say the least.

If Soobin saw you looking like this, he’d probably have a heart attack.

Soobin.

In the midst of all your frantic preparation, you had nearly forgotten about the main reason why you had planned to avoid this party at all costs. With a quick glance around the room, you realized that he was nowhere to be seen. You wouldn’t have been surprised if he hadn’t shown up at all. He was never a fan of parties, anyway.

You crossed your arms over your chest and slowly slipped past the couples crowding the hallway with their limbs intertwined, mouths practically swallowing one another whole, until you reached the living room. Surprisingly, it was less crowded in here than you thought it might be. A few minglers were scattered about the room’s perimeter, but they all kept away from the center of the room, which was occupied by none other than Choi Yeonjun and all his brainless, rich-boy worshippers. You quickly scanned the group, not able to make out Soobin among them. When you realized he wasn’t there, you were partly relieved and partly disappointed. If was to be anywhere at this party, it would probably be with these guys.

With a quick turn on your heel, you planned to make your way out of the living room before Yeonjun could see you. The last thing you wanted was for the boy with a bruised ego to see you, regardless of whether or not he had been the one to invite you.

“Y/N? You came?”

Too late.

Plastering a forced grin to your face, you slowly turned to face Yeonjun, who had just called your name. He was eyeing you with slight surprise, but soon, a smirk slipped across his lips as he motioned for you to come over. You had to hold back your sigh, wishing there was some way for you to get out of this situation. It was all Jen’s fault that you had to show up in the first place. You decided you were going to demand an extra ten cents be added to your raise the next time you saw your pushy boss.

“Hey Yeonjun,” you said once you had walked over to him. “I figured I’d stop by for a minute or two, since you were kind enough to invite me.”

He smirked, glancing at a few of his friends. They shared a knowing laugh with one another, but the meaning of it was lost to you. You wanted nothing more than to get away from them, but that wasn’t an option.

“You’re too busy to go out with me to a basketball game but free enough to come to a party, huh?” He asked.

You blinked, digging your nails into your arms. “I’m sorry?”

“It’s fine, really,” He drawled, swirling his plastic cup of beer in his hand. “You didn’t think I’d be upset or anything did you? I only asked you out because I was dared to shack up with you. But I’m guessing you already knew that, since you’re so smart and all.”

Your eyes went wide, but you managed to control the rest of your expression. It was just like you had guessed—Yeonjun had invited you to the party with the sole purpose of making a scene.

If you survived the night, Jen was never going to hear the end of it.

“You’re not gonna say anything?” He asked, pushing himself to his feet. You could tell by the slight stumble in his step and his hooded eyes that he had quite a bit to drink. He took a step towards you, causing you to back up immediately. Your back hit the wall, and you placed your palms against it as Yeonjun towered over you.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. I know why you’re here anyways.” He leaned forward, his lips hovering near your ear. “You’re here to see Soobin, aren’t you? Since he’s the only one here willing to waste his time on filth like you.”

Your blood boiled, and you had to clench your fists at your sides to control your anger.

“Don’t,” You seethed, “Call me that.”

“Call you what? Filth? Or sweetheart? Why, is that something good old Binnie used to call you—”

He never got to finish that sentence, because with one big burst of anger, you stomped on his toe as hard as you could with your worn-out platform sneaker.

“What the hell!” He screeched, drawing the attention of several others in the room. His outburst even caused a few of the couples to pull away from each other’s faces long enough to eavesdrop.

Before you could even say anything back, lukewarm liquid was splashed up in your face, burning your eyes and nose. You gasped, running your hands over your eyes to see Yeonjun with his now empty cup of beer pointed towards you.

“Think twice before you act out against me next time, sweetheart. Never forget your place.”

Tears of anger burned in your eyes, and you scanned the room to see several people exchanging whispers and giggles as they glanced in your direction. You pushed past Yeonjun and quickly made your way out the back door of the house, unable to stand the humiliation for a moment longer.

Soobin arrived in the living room just in time to see you leave.

He wasted no time in rushing towards Yeonjun, grabbing hold of his arm. “Yeonjun, was that Y/N?” He asked, eyes quickly taking in the puddle of alcohol on the floor and the empty cup in Yeonjun’s hand. “What happened?”

“Nothing you need to worry your pretty blue head about, Big Choi. I just put her in her place is all.”

Soobin’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean you ‘put her in her place?’”

Yeonjun laughed, giving Soobin a nonchalant pat on the back. “Just drop it, would you? It has nothing to do with you.”

“What did you say, Yeonjun?”

Yeonjun was growing irritated now. He huffed out a breath, crossing his arms over his chest. “I said it has nothing to do with you, Soobin. I know you like to hang around people like that pothead Felix, but the rest of us live in the real world, where we’d rather not waste our time with those who have no future anyways. I bet he’s the one that got you to dye your hair that god awful blue, isn’t he?”

Soobin bit the inside of his cheek. He so badly wished to rip Yeonjun to shreds then and there. If he had Felix’s courage, the cocky bastard would have been knocked to the ground ages ago. But if there was one thing Soobin was sure he could never be, it was brave. And so, despite his rage, he remained silent, his eyes practically burning a hole through Yeonjun’s chest from how intently he was glaring.

It seemed as though Yeonjun was about to say something, but his eyes landed on the bit of red that peeked through the front pocket of Soobin’s denim jacket. Before Soobin had time to defend himself, Yeonjun had reached forward and snatched it from his pocket, revealing the large paper heart—his valentine for you.

“So this is why you care so much,” Yeonjun said, laughing as his eyes scanned the glittery words that decorated the page. “You want her to be your valentine.”

“Give that back,” Soobin said quietly, his hands beginning to shake.

Yeonjun instead lifted his eyes to Soobin, gave him a sickly sweet grin, and ripped the heart straight down the middle. He let the two pieces fall from his hands to the ground, and with them Soobin’s heart went also.

“You’re really willing to try and go against me, and for what? For the sake of a girl who can’t even afford a new pair of jeans and a boy that smokes his life away in the bathroom stalls?” Yeonjun took a slow step towards Soobin, his eyes glinting with a sinister determination. “You may be rich, Soobin, but if you choose to lower yourself to their standards, you may as well be dirt poor just like they are.”

With his hands clenched into tight fists, his glasses sliding down his nose, and his heart quite literally in two pieces on the floor below him, Soobin decided that he had had enough.

“I’d much rather be associated with people who are kind and have actual depth to their character than be lumped together with a bunch of pricks like you with no real personality—because that’s something you can’t buy with daddy’s paycheck.”

He had to physically restrain himself from slapping his hand across his own mouth in shock. It was as if the spirit of Felix himself had possessed him to say such harsh things. He wondered where Felix was then, wishing more than ever before to have his best friend by his side as he began to tremble from either the rush of adrenaline that coursed through his veins, or from fear. Or perhaps it was both.

He didn’t have time to ponder it any longer before Yeonjun’s fist collided with his nose, resulting in a sickening crack as pain echoed throughout his face in tidal waves.

He stumbled backward as people began to shout, raising his hand to his nose and gasping when he saw that his palm was covered in blood.

Beomgyu had his arms wrapped around Yeonjun, who was desperately trying to lunge towards Soobin once again.

“Knock it off, Yeonjun!” Beomgyu shouted, pushing the elder back. “His dad is on the school board! Are you trying to get expelled?”

Beomgyu looked over his shoulder at the still stunned Soobin, who was gaping at the blood that now stained his once white turtleneck.

“Get lost, Soobin,” Beomgyu said, to which Soobin only blinked in reply, his ears ringing.

“Now!”

Head spinning, Soobin picked up the two halves of his paper heart, stuffed them into his jeans, and stumbled out the same door he had seen you go through just minutes before. After checking to make sure his glasses were still intact—they were, thankfully—he shook his head in an effort to clear his mind of the static, eyes scanning the front lawn looking for any trace of you.

It didn’t take long for his eyes to spot you among the now dwindling crowd of partygoers. Your bright pink sweater stood out against the darkness, so he was able to recognize you even with your back towards him. He sniffed, wiping the back of his hand against his dripping nose as he slowly made his way to where you sat on the curb, your feet planted on the asphalt street. He wished that he looked a bit more presentable—when he played this scene out in his head over the years in which he would finally reunite with you, he never imagined himself dazed and covered in blood.

Desperate times called for desperate measures, he supposed.

When he reached you, he simply stood beside you in silence for a moment, unsure of what to say. He could tell that you sensed his presence, but you refused to look up at him as you kept your face buried in your hands. He could have sworn he heard a few muffled sobs slip through your fingers, but of course, he wasn’t going to bring that up.

Eventually he decided to slip his jacket off of his shoulders, leaning down to drape it over you. You still kept your head down as he sat beside you on the curb, but he watched you grip the jacket and pull it tighter around your body. He smiled a bit, holding the collar of his turtleneck against his throbbing nose.

“Thank you,” you muttered, wiping your hand across your eyes. You finally looked over at him, and when you did, you couldn’t hold back your gasp. “My God Soobin, what happened to your face?”

“Oh, well, I might have gotten punched,” He said quickly, trying to wave off your concern. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Punched? By who?”

He looked down at the ground, sniffing as a drop of blood hit the pavement. “Yeonjun,” he muttered under his breath.

“I’m sorry, did you just say Yeonjun? Are you insane? Why on earth would you butt heads with the Choi Yeonjun?”

Soobin didn’t say anything in response, he simply stared at you, eyes wide with beer dripping off the ends of your hair, makeup smeared across your face, your sweater stained down the front. It didn’t seem to take long for you to put the pieces together, as the shock left your face and was replaced with something akin to guilt.

“Oh,” You said, looking back down at your shoes.

“So she knows that I did it all for her,” Soobin thought.

For some reason, the idea of that both terrified and excited him.

A second later, he glanced over to see you ripping one of the hand-sewed patches of fabric off your jeans, leaving a square of your skin exposed to the chilly night air. You leaned towards him, pushing his hand away from his nose so you could use the patch to clean up some of the blood on and around his puffy red nose.

“Y/N, your pants!” He exclaimed, trying to push your hand away. “They’re ruined!”

“I’m not worried about my pants, you idiot,” You said, swatting his hand away as you continued to press the cloth against his skin. “You got punched in the face because of me, this is the least I could do.”

“That was my choice though,” He muttered, although he stopped trying to resist your touch. He ignored the way his heart thrummed harder in his chest, hoping that you couldn’t hear.

“Well, this is my choice too.” Your eyes flicked to his for a brief moment, your bottom lip pulled between your teeth. “Why did you do it, by the way?”

“Do what?”

“Stand up to Yeonjun for me and get a nasty nosebleed as a result.”

“Oh.” He blinked slowly, keeping his eyes fixed on yours. “Just ‘cause.”

“Because . . . ?”

“Because of you.” He blurted, causing your hand to go still against him. He swallowed his fear, braving the best smile that he could. “Just you. That was my only reason.”

You didn’t say anything as your hand fell from his face, the cloth clutched between your fingers. The anxiety he had tried his best to suppress came rushing up all at once, and he was surprised that his ears didn’t begin to squeal like a tea kettle from all the pressure.

“Y/N,” He said, gently placing his hand over yours despite how his fingers trembled. “Why did you pull away from me?”

“What?”

“Four years ago. Why did you stop talking to me?”

You were quiet for a moment, digging into the ground with the toe of your sneaker. Soobin held his breath until you finally replied with, “I was afraid.”

“Afraid? Of what?”

“We were getting older, Binnie,” You said, and his heart skipped at the use of your old nickname for him. “You and I, we’re from very different walks of life. You get to hang out with people like Yeonjun, whereas I get a cup of beer poured all over my face just for existing, and you get a fist to the nose for trying to stand up for me. We’re from different sides of the track, one might say.”

“So?” Soobin asked, his hand tightening around yours. “Did you really think that would affect us that much, Y/N?”

You frowned, glancing down at his hand over yours.

“I thought you’d be embarrassed of me,” You said, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Embarrassed?” Soobin’s eyes went wide as he gripped your hand tighter still, pulling it into his lap. “Y/N, I would never, ever be embarrassed of you. Besides, have you seen my best friend? He’s on a first name basis with the principal because of how often he gets written up for smoking behind the school. If I’m not embarrassed of him, why would I ever be embarrassed of you?”

You laughed, wiping the back of your hand across your eyes once more. “I guess I was worried about nothing, huh?” You sniffed, giving his hand a squeeze. “I’m sorry, Soobin.”

He shook his head, squeezing your hand right back. “Don’t apologize. You’re here now, that’s what matters. Do think we could—you know—”

“Pick up where we left off?” You smiled, nodding vigorously. “I’d like that very much, Binnie.”

He beamed then, almost pinching himself to be sure that he was not dreaming, but the pain in his nose was real enough to remind him of that on its own. He jumped to his feet, pulling you right up with him.

“In that case, how about we finally go on that Valentine’s date I had planned all the way back then?”

“Date?” You asked, a brow raised. “Is it really considered a date if two friends are just hanging out?”

He didn’t respond as he pulled you along behind him towards the bushes where he and Felix had hidden his bike. He crouched down and moved the branches aside, feeling his heart drop to his stomach when he realized that his bike was, in fact, no longer there.

He shot up, turning to face you with eyes wide. “Felix—that bastard took my bike!”

You were quiet for a moment, but then, you burst into boisterous laughter, leaving Soobin utterly confused.

“It’s not funny, Y/N!” He whined, shoving your shoulder lightly. “I was supposed to take you to the Dairy Shack on my bike!”

“It is funny,” You said between bursts of laughter. “Only you would get such a rusty old piece of metal stolen from you.”

He pushed his lips out in a pout, sliding his glasses up his sore nose. “It’s a good bike, don’t make fun of it.”

You grinned, interlocking his fingers with yours, which was enough to instantly wipe the pout right off his face.

“Let’s just walk, Binnie. The Dairy Shack isn’t that far anyways.”

You were right; the walk to your favorite milkshake place was very close to the house where the party had occurred. Although Felix stealing his bike had thrown an obvious wrench in his plans, it was a minor hiccup, and one he could most definitely handle. Besides, he wouldn’t have to see Felix until the next day anyways. He could deal with his frustration then.

At least, that’s what he thought anyways, until the two of you spotted Felix at the skatepark on your way to the dairy shack.

Soobin’s eyes took in the deplorable sight before him—from where he stood on the dimly lit sidewalk, he could see Felix and a girl he had never seen before, their faces nearly pressed together, and most importantly, with his bike discarded a few yards away from them.

“Soobin,” You said, tugging on his arm. “They look like they’re busy, let’s just go—”

But Soobin, who had little patience when it came to Felix messing up his plans, didn’t let you finish before he screamed, “Give me back my freaking bike!”

You had to hold back your snort of laughter at his choice of words. Even when he was trying to sound angry, he was undeniably adorable.

Soobin watched as Felix startled, clutching his spliff between his fingers as he glared daggers back at his friend. Soobin gulped, trying not to let his fear show on his face. What did he have to be afraid of, anyways? He was the victim of thievery, and his best friend was the offender.

Felix took a big step towards him, but he paused, his eyes landing on your interlocked hands. Soobin glanced down as well, his face growing furiously warm as he realized the situation he had gotten himself into.

He decided to divert the subject before it could even be brought up by saying, “I can’t believe you stole my bike! All this time I was trying to hide it from strangers, but you, my best friend! I should’ve been hiding it from you!”

Soobin noticed Felix’s female companion step off the skateboard and walk over in his direction, and for a second he felt bad for possibly ruining her night with his best friend. However, his frustration was more prominent in the moment as he fixed his gaze back on his best friend, who had fixed a mischievous smirk upon his face that made warning sirens blare in Soobin’s head right away.

“Now, now, buddy,” Felix said, his voice calm and carefree as ever. It probably had something to do with what he had just smoked, but Soobin didn’t care all that much. “You’re just gonna have to let me borrow it for a little longer.”

Soobin nearly laughed at the audacity of such a statement. “You are gonna give me the bike, or—”

“How about this, Soobs?” Soobin’s lips clamped shut at his friend’s interruption, as the thief in question gestured with his joint to where Soobin’s fingers were locked with yours. “You let me keep your bike for the night, and I don’t tell your dad about you hanging out with the opposite gender.”

Unable to control yourself, you let out a big laugh. Soobin would have felt betrayed, but he was more terrified than anything else at the idea of his father finding out that he was taking a girl out without his permission. He would be grounded for weeks—no, months.

“You wouldn’t.”

Felix’s lips curled up even more into a twisted grin that Soobin wished he had the guts to slap off his face. “God, just imagine the look on Mr. Choi’s face. Imagine him finding out about your premarital hand holding.”

No. Not the hand holding.

Soobin almost felt faint, but he steeled himself to the best of his abilities as he cleared his throat. “One night, Lix,” he warned. “If I don’t see it on my porch in the morning, you’ll be sorry!”

“Oh, I’m so scared,” Felix teased. His expression changed a moment later though, when he finally noticed Soobin’s swollen nose and blood-stained turtleneck. “Wait, Soobs, the hell happened to you?”

Soobin, however, had already taken his first steps away from the skatepark, pulling you along behind him. “I’ll tell you later, bud. Enjoy your spliff with that kind girl who you probably don’t deserve!”

“Hey!”

Soobin couldn’t help but laugh as he swung your interlocked hands together, grinning as you let out a laugh as well. The anger that had seeped through him seemed to melt away in an instant as the two of you continued your journey to the Dairy Shack.

“Would your dad really be that upset if he found out about this?” You asked.

Soobin grimaced. “We should probably wait til next year to tell him about this outing. Or maybe the year after that.”

When the two of you had finally reached the Dairy Shack, you waited outside for him while he went in to order your drink. A large chocolate milkshake, with two straws, just like you used to get every time before.

When he had the drink in hand, he walked back outside and sat down beside you on the curb, smiling as you wrapped his jacket tighter around your shoulders. You smiled back up at him, your eyes creasing from the expression. Your smile had always struck him right to his core; he had missed seeing it every day.

He hoped he could see it every morning and every night from that day onward. There was no way he would let you go this time.

He just had to muster up the courage to grab hold of you first.

“You know what, Binnie, you turned out to be a lot taller than I thought you ever would be,” you said as you took one of the straws from his hands. “You’re actually enormous. It’s shocking.”

“Should I find that offensive? It sounds kinda like an insult.”

“Take it however you will,” You teased, leaning over as he popped the plastic lid off the milkshake. He grabbed the cherry by the stem and held it towards you.

“What are you doing?” You asked, holding out your fist. “We have to rock, paper, scissors for it. Remember?”

Soobin laughed as he shook his head. “I’m giving it to you this time. It’s what I planned to do all those years ago, when I asked you to hang out on Valentine’s.”

You seemed to be taken aback, but you simply shrugged as you plucked the cherry from his hand and pulled it from the stem with your teeth, glancing back over at him. It was silent for a moment, but then your eyes landed on the pocket of his jeans, where you could see a bit of red paper poking out. You leaned over even further, reaching your hand out to snatch the paper.

“What are you—hey! Give that back!”

Soobin desperately tried to take his Valentine back from you, but it was too late. You held both halves of what used to be a whole in your hands, your eyes scanning the words as you pieced them together.

“Soobin . . .”

He held his breath. Had his act of young love left you completely speechless? Were you so touched that you would burst into tears?

“This looks like a middle schooler made it.”

He let out the breath in the form of a long, long sigh.

“That’s because it was made by a middle schooler,” He said as he set the milkshake down beside him. “I made it back in the eighth grade. I planned to give it to you that Valentine’s.”

“Oh.” You ran your finger along the card’s surface, the smallest smile creeping across your lips. “Well in that case, it’s not half bad. Why’s it ripped though?”

“Ah—well, Yeonjun . . .”

You nodded, taking another glance at his swollen nose. “No need to elaborate. It seems you had a lot planned for our Valentine’s Day back then. Is there anything else you wanted to do?”

His mouth went dry at that, and he wished that you couldn’t see his face because he was sure that his expression was quite comical. All the way back then, four years prior, he had in fact planned the perfect, ideal day in his head. Picking you up on his bike, giving you the cherry from his milkshake, and presenting you with his hand made card.

There was only one thing left on his list.

He didn’t move at first, willing himself to have enough courage to even look back in your direction. But when he finally did allow his eyes to meet yours, he felt his shoulders relax and his heart rate became more manageable.

He took a deep breath, leaned forward, and pressed his lips against your cheek.

He lingered there for only a moment before he pulled back, daring to pry one of his eyes open to take in the look on your face.

The disappointment was palpable—from the way your brows furrowed together and the way you pursed your lips. His stomach dropped, and he scooted the tiniest bit away from you.

“I’m sorry,” He blurt out, his face growing warmer by the second. “I shouldn’t have done that, I just—”

“Is that all?”

Your question stopped him mid-ramble, his eyes growing wide. “Huh?”

“Is that all?” You repeated, closing the distance between you that he had created. “It’s Valentine’s Day, Soobin. I think we can do better than a peck on the cheek.”

The implications of what you were saying didn’t register with him right away, but when it finally did, he could have sworn his heart began to beat loud enough for the entire town to hear. His hand curled into a fist as he gripped the denim of his jeans. He leaned forward, keeping his eyes open just enough to watch you as he brought his lips closer to yours. He could feel your eyes on him all the while, causing his heart to pound fiercer still within him.

When he was just a breath away, he whispered, “Can you close your eyes?”

“Hm?”

He lifted his hand, gently placing it over your eyes. He leaned closer then, filling the space between you both as his lips met yours. You tasted vaguely of cherry and strawberry slice soda, and he found it quite nice the way his lips seemed to fit perfectly against your own. As the seconds drew on, your hands slipped around his neck, pulling him closer. He slowly let his hand fall from your eyes, tracing lines with the tips of his fingers down your cheek before he cradled your jaw, letting his lips part just enough to taste the sweet sugar on your lips once more.

He thought in a haze that it was a good thing he didn’t drink anything at the party, as kissing you was proving to be intoxicating enough on its own.

When you finally pulled away, leaving your forehead resting against his, he let his eyes flutter open enough to see the euphoric smile that adorned your features. He grinned as well, gently running his thumb against your cheek.

“I think that back then, I had planned to ask you this before kissing you,” He whispered, “But Y/N, will you be my Valentine?”

Instead of a spoken answer, you laughed, leaning forward to capture his lips with yours once again, and that was the only answer Choi Soobin would ever need.

WHEN SOOBIN ARRIVED HOME THAT NIGHT, HE WENT STRAIGHT FOR THE TELEPHONE.

It was kept upstairs at night right outside his parent’s door, to keep himself and his brother from using it in the late hours. Of course, this never stopped Soobin from sneaking it downstairs to his room in the basement to make late night calls to Felix.

And that particular evening, he really needed to give Felix an update.

He grabbed the phone from the small table in the hallway, carefully tiptoeing towards the basement stairs. Before he had even taken the first step down, the bathroom door creaked open. Soobin whipped his head around to see his brother Kai standing there, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he raised a brow at his older brother.

Soobin froze, blinking slowly as he realized the incriminating situation he found himself in.

“Please don’t tell mom,” He whispered, his eyes pleading with his younger brother.

Kai nodded, although Soobin wasn’t quite convinced that the boy was even coherent enough to understand what was going on. Soobin offered a rushed thank you, and ventured his first step down the stairs.

Well, he tried, anyways, and ended up missing the first step. He tumbled down the rest of the stairs, landing on his butt at the very end.

He winced in pain, glad to see that the phone was still intact in his hands. He glanced over his shoulders to see Kai staring down the stairway with wide eyes, his lips parted in shock. Soobin quickly put a finger to his lips, begging his brother for silence.

Kai simply shook his head and walked away, allowing Soobin the freedom to breathe out a sigh of relief.

He quickly ran to his bedroom and shut the door, collapsing onto his bed with the phone as his breaths came in ragged gasps as an aftereffect from his tumble down the stairs. He figured he should have dialed Felix’s number right away, but he couldn’t help but brush his fingers against his lips, remembering the feeling and taste of having yours pressed against them.

He was so caught up in his daze that he didn’t notice Felix calling until the third ring.

He picked it up, breathing heavily into the speaker as he rubbed a sore spot on his lower back.

“Please tell me that panting is from running a marathon, and not what I think you’ve successfully tried.”

Soobin nearly gagged, holding the phone away from his face as he coughed, flustered by his friend's crude words. He brought the phone back to his face and said, “No, you sicko, I just fell down the stairs.”

“How the hell did you manage that with those long legs?”

“That’s not important, Lix!” He laid back onto his pillows then, twirling the phone cord in his hands as he stared up at his ceiling, the memories of his adventure with you that night flooding his mind once more. He couldn’t help but smile from ear to ear as he said, “Look, I need to tell you something important.”

If he didn’t know any better, he would have thought that he could hear the smile in Felix’s voice too as his friend replied.

“Well buddy, I got something to tell you too.”

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bopbopstyles · 4 years

Text

7. Home for the Holidays

SERIES RATING: M (sex)

CHAPTER WORD COUNT: 10.1k

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Y/N promised herself she would never date a musician. It was her one rule–her only rule, actually–when it came to dating. But then, Harry Styles rolled into her life and asked her to break it, just this once. And this is what happened.

a/n: thank you for all the love lately!!! <3 u guys

pls reblog to spread the word about only exception! 🥰

Harry and Y/N had discussed the idea of having some elaborate reveal that they were having a baby, but they decided to just do it in the fashion of buying onesies for their parents for Christmas gifts and letting their parents open them and discover the truth. Harry and Y/N spent hours one evening picking out onesies on Etsy that said things like “I love Grandpa!” and giggling over the prospect of telling their parents, excitement seeping out of them.

But first, Y/N knew she had to tell Hanna and Jamie. She suspected that they already thought something was wrong, after she had cancelled on all of their recent requests to go out for drinks. So when she asked them over to her apartment for dinner, she didn’t know what the mood would be. They arrived in normal fashion, though, Jamie bringing ice cream for dessert and Hanna bringing a bottle of wine for them to share.

When she plucked glasses from the cabinet—three, one for each of them—that’s when Y/N knew her time had come. “Not one for me,” she said calmly, turning away from the salad she was making.

Hanna looked at her, confusion across her face, and then at the wine. “But…it’s wine.”

Y/N nodded. “I can’t have any.”

Hanna gasped, the glasses dropping to the counter and barely avoiding cracking, and rushed to her friend. Jamie stood there, shocked, eyes flickering between Y/N’s stomach and her face. “You’re pregnant?” He asked finally, eyes wide.

She nodded, and Hanna dropped to her knees. “Can I touch?” Hanna asked softly, eyes on Y/N’s belly. She was the first person to ask, the first person who would feel the place where Y/N’s child was growing, but she didn’t mind. It was her best friend, after all. So she nodded.

“What’s it like?” Jamie asked, coming over to stand next to her, head cocked to the side.

“What, pregnancy?” He nodded. “Well, so far, it just means I can’t have wine and I vomit a lot. I’m also so fucking tired all the time.”

“When you were sick,” Jamie said, putting the pieces together in his head. “Shit.”

Hanna slapped him. “Stop it, you.”

“No, what is it?” Y/N asked, pushing Hanna away from her so she could turn to Jamie.

“I just…” Jamie ran his hand over his face, eyes flickering to her. “Harry knows?” She nodded. “And?”

“He’s over the moon,” she informed him, voice stern. She got it. He didn’t think Harry would want the kid, that she was going to be raising it alone. And maybe, if Harry wasn’t so goddamn stubborn, she would be. “I tried to tell him he didn’t need to be around, but he literally started crying at the prospect. He’s the one who convinced me to let him stay, to do it together.”

“Wow,” Hanna said, leaning against the counter. “I always knew he was wonderful, but that—that’s something else.”

Jamie reached out and placed a hand on her shoulder, his expression softening. “I’m sorry—I was worried about you. I’m happy for you, and Harry, as long as you are.”

She took his hand and pressed a chaste kiss to the top of it, something they always did to make up. “Honestly, I am. It’s not what I was expecting, but doing it with Harry, it’s not as bad as I was expecting. It’s actually kind of incredible.”

“Is the sex, like, insane?”

Her head swiveled to Hanna and Jamie gasped, swatting at Hanna’s shoulder. “Han!”

“What? Your hormones are like raging right? It’s got to be incredible.”

Y/N coyly smiled and this time both Hanna and Jamie gasped, their questions toppling over one another. She had never shared too much of her and Harry’s sex life with her friends, valuing his privacy, and that wasn’t going to change. But she did tell them, “It’s on a whole other level,” which earned clapped hands and shrieks. And she wasn’t lying. The added hormones raging through her bloodstream had her wanting him at every time of day, and Harry seemed even more infatuated with her than normal, touching and kissing her every chance he had. She couldn’t even count the times they had had sex in his kitchen, not being able to wait until they went upstairs, or the times he had dropped to his knees in the shower, desperate to taste her. Sex with Harry was always mind-blowing, good in a way she had never experienced before, but sex with Harry while pregnant neared an out of body experience sometimes. He could oscillate so well between kind, soft, cuddly, and this man who was simply dying to be inside of her, murmuring words in her ears that had her blood rushing straight down.

When her friends left, she called Harry and told him exactly what she had been thinking about, and he promptly drove to her apartment, not wanting to leave her desiring him and unable to quench her thirst. He took her on her bed, their teeth gnashing and hands scrambling over skin, Harry sucking harshly on her neck until she reminded him they were seeing her dad tomorrow, at which point he opted for a spot on her breast. Their increased size and sensitivity was driving Harry—and Y/N—mad, so he had his lips on them whenever he had the chance.

“How,” he exhaled as he drove deeply into her, the only sound audible in her room the sound of their panting and skin slapping, “do you feel better every time I’m inside of you?”

She knew what he meant. She could never tire of him, the way he fit inside of her, the way he touched her body, the way he made her feel. Fingers threaded in his hair and she yanked him down to her, begging for his lips to reach hers again. And when they did, she murmured, “You’re the best I’ve ever had,” against them. Harry groaned, deep and throaty, and pressed a deep spot that had her seeing stars.

Afterwards, Harry asked her to lay down and he slipped down her body, pressing his lips to the spot right below her belly button where their child rested. “Hi Peanut,” he whispered against her skin, Y/N smiling down at the sight of him talking to their child. “It’s Papa. Sorry if that disturbed you, just needed to show Mama how much I love her. I hope you can understand and forgive me.”

“Shut up,” she told him. “That’s much too crass for them still!”

“Shh,” he told her, finger to his lips. “I’m not done.” He bent back down and rested his hands on her hips. “Can’t wait to meet you. I’ve been dreaming about you, you know.” Y/N didn’t know that and she looked down at Harry in wonder, curious how she had gotten so lucky. “Dreamed you were a girl. Not that that means anything—you are whoever you want to be, Peanut. I’ll love you no matter who you are, always, unwaveringly.”

“You didn’t tell me that,” she whispered, hand curving over his jaw and tugging his head up so their eyes met.

He pressed a lingering kiss to her belly before crawling up to her face, fingers brushing across her flushed cheeks. “I wanted to tell Peanut first.”

“A girl, huh?” He nodded, and she smiled. “I’d like that, I think.”

“I think you’ll like whoever they are,” he told her. “Because they’ll be utterly perfect, just like you.”

She smiled into the kiss she gave him, hoping he knew that it wasn’t her they’d resemble in perfection, it would be him.

Harry was bouncing on his toes in both excitement and fear at the prospect of telling her father. He genuinely liked Peter, looked up to him even. Even as he grew older, he had managed to maintain his career, finding new and creative ways to make a living, which was not easy. Despite his success, he was still incredibly down to Earth and didn’t make you feel judged when you wrote with him—which was something Harry, as a relatively new songwriter, deeply appreciated. His imposter syndrome in the songwriting room was something he constantly battled, especially when he wrote with new people. But Peter put Harry at ease immediately, making suggestions in a way so Harry didn’t feel like an idiot, and praising him when he had genuinely good ideas.

So that was all to say, the last thing he wanted was for Peter to hate him for getting his daughter pregnant at 23.

Peter opened the door to his house beaming, the Motown Christmas Album playing in the background as Y/N and Harry stepped in, a flutter of hellos and hugs. “It’s been too long!” Peter said, giving Harry a clap on the back. “How was tour?”

“Good,” Harry said as Peter shut the front door. “Long.”

“Heard from Jeff you’re doing March to July this year,” Peter said, leading them into the living room where the tree was set up, the jolly holiday spirit wrapping around Harry like a hug. He and Y/N had decorate his place a bit, putting up a tree she went and got from the store and decorating it with ornaments, but he never went all out with decorating. Decorating any house that wasn’t his mom’s just felt wrong somehow.

Harry nodded, taking a seat next to Y/N on the couch, loving the way she leaned subconsciously into him when he wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “Yeah, should be a long one.”

“Didn’t know you and Jeff were friends,” Y/N asked her father, taking a sip from the hot coco her father had placed in front of them.

“Decided I should get to know him a bit better ever since you and this one started spending all your time together,” Peter said with a chuckle. “Especially since you don’t call enough and give me the information yourself.”

“That’s a lie,” Y/N said, glancing up at Harry as if to reassure him that she was, in fact, a good daughter. “I call him all the time.”

“Don’t doubt it,” he replied, pressing a kiss to her hair. He was an affectionate person, and he had always appreciated the fact that Y/N never pushed him away, always seemed to lean in for more. Made him feel even more loved by her.

Peter set down his own cup of hot chocolate and made his way over to the tree. “Now, I know you have to head up to your mom’s, so should we get started on the presents?”

Harry and Y/N had decided to go to her dad’s on the way up to her mom’s house, driving up a rental car and fly out of San Francisco to London to cut down on the amount of time they had to drive. It was busy on the highways and honestly, Harry hated driving for long distances in the states, but for Y/N he’d do it. Driving on the wrong side of the road was something he never could fully adjust to and doing it for hours at a time took the utmost concentration.

“Yes!” Y/N replied, grabbing their gift for him from her purse and setting it under the tree. “But I want mine first.”

Peter chuckled and dug around for Y/N’s, the red and green wrapping paper making Harry smile. He liked that Peter wasn’t perfect at wrapping but he still made an effort, the crinkles in the paper and jagged edge of the paper authentic and loving. “Hope you like it, doll.”

Y/N ripped open the paper, a green slim box revealing itself in the paper. She shook it like a little girl, which made Harry laugh softly next to her, before opening up the box. Inside lay three concert tickets to the upcoming Taylor Swift tour, which had Y/N squealing, launching herself into her father’s arms. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” She said, giving her dad a tight hug, Peter’s full body laugh filling the room.

“You’re welcome,” he said. “You never took me up on last year’s gift, so I decided to just make an executive decision. Harry, I know you’ll be gone, but I thought you could take Hanna and Jamie with you.”

Y/N nodded, a quick look to Harry that made his heart clench. “Yes, of course. They’ll scream when I tell them how good the seats are.”

Her dad chuckled. “I have no doubt.” Y/N gave her dad one last squeeze before settling back into her spot next to Harry, the way she interlaced her fingers with him sending him the message that She wished it could be him going with her, but she wasn’t mad. “Now, Harry.” Peter reached around the tree and grabbed a gift for Harry, wrapped up and looking like a book of some kind.

“Oh,” Harry said, reaching up to grab it, “thank you so much. You didn’t have to get me anything, though.”

“Nonsense,” Peter replied, waving the idea away. “You’re with Y/N, so you’re part of the family.”

Y/N shot him a knowing smile, the thought passing through both their heads at how right her dad actually was. Harry ripped at the paper, his fingers curving around a leather journal that quite resembled the one he lugged around with him everywhere he went. “Oh,” he said, looking up at Peter. “Wow. Thank you so much.”

“Of course,” Peter replied. “When we were writing I noticed you were about halfway through your old one, so I thought you were probably due to have a new one.”

He was right, in fact. Harry had planned to buy one back in London at his favorite shop, but it seemed that Peter had beat him to it, the mark on the back from the same place as his current notebook. “This is incredible,” he said, wiping at the tears threatening to spill from his eyes at the thoughtfulness. “So thoughtful. Thank you.”

Y/N threaded her hand through his, giving it a squeeze to remind him she was there and he glanced down at her face to help stitch his emotions back into place. “Now, Dad, we’ve got ours for you.” She scrambled up, grabbing the bag from under the tree that held their carefully selected onesie for him.

Peter ripped out the tissue paper, digging his hand in and reaching around for the gift. Y/N bit her lip and looked up at Harry who gave her a reassuring smile, reminding her with his eyes that Peter was going to be happy for them, just as they had discussed. “Oh!” Peter said when he pulled out the onesie that said “#1 Grandkid” on it and an ultrasound photo they had had printed for him. Tears welled in his eyes, looking up at Y/N and Harry in disbelief. “Really?” He asked, words breathless.

Y/N nodded and Peter yelped in excitement, rushing to grab them both into hugs, a flurry of love and warmth they desperately needed. “Due in June,” Y/N told him.

“Summer baby,” he said, to himself looking back down at the ultrasound photo in his hand. “Good. Could use one of those in this family.”

Harry laughed and Peter reached out, a soft hand on Harry’s cheek. “Welcome to the family, son.”

The word made Harry’s heart clench, the thought of being a permanent part of Y/N’s family a prospect too good to be true. “Thank you,” he replied.

Peter proceeded to pepper them with questions, cracking a joke about how he almost got Y/N a crate of wine as a joke from last Christmas but was glad he didn’t, and they chatted about what he was going to be called. They decided on “Pop”, something short and sweet, and a shortened of what Y/N had called her grandfather before he passed. Over brunch they talked about their upcoming trip to England and their plan to tell Y/N’s mother that evening. Peter nodded at the sound of his ex-wife’s name, and Harry thought for not the first time about the fact that both he and Y/N had parents who were divorced. He hoped it wasn’t a sign for him at Y/N—he wanted to stay with her forever. They hadn’t talked about the idea of marriage, but it was something playing at the back of his mind ever since they’d learned they were going to have a baby.

He didn’t want to get married just because of their child, but at the same time, he loved Y/N and couldn’t imagine wanting anyone else. She challenged him, loved him, made him a better person. Made him laugh like crazy, bought him all the weird foods he liked, gave the best massages. Reminded him that he had a life outside of work—a life he loved. The prospect of marrying her wasn’t scary to him. In fact, it sounded like heaven.

Y/N couldn’t help but watch Harry as he drove, one hand on the steering wheel, one on her knee. At first, he did it because she was bouncing her knee up and down, but then kept it there, and Y/N suspected it was because of the same reason that her fingers crawled up his forearm: to feel his skin under her fingers. The drive was long, probably eight or nine hours, but she didn’t mind it—nine hours to spend with Harry’s undivided attention, the coast whipping by them.

They got on the road by noon, hugs and teary eyes as they said goodbye, and she texted her mom they’d be there at nine and would grab dinner on the way, so no need to wait up for them for dinner. Harry told her to DJ and she put on their playlist first, belting out lyrics to all of their favorite songs, Harry even using her water bottle that sat in the center console as a microphone. His seat dancing had her laughing hysterically and his smile never seemed to fade from his face as they drove. After the playlist ended, she put on the NPR podcast she had been listening to lately, and Harry asked her political questions, still trying to wrap his head around American politics.

They stopped for dinner at In-n-Out and Y/N took the wheel for the remaining two hours of the drive, since she knew it by heart and Harry was getting a bit stressed. They switched shakes back and forth as she drove, chattering about their favorite holiday memories as kids and laughing at their embarrassing moments. She loved glancing over and seeing Harry’s eyes already on her, a twinkle in his eye she knew well—it was the one where he was overwhelmed by his feelings for her. He had told her one time when they were wrapped up on his couch and she asked him why he was staring at her like that, and it had made her pull him into a deep kiss, much like the one she wanted now. But she was driving, so she settled with kissing the back of Harry’s hand, the smile he gave her settling deep in her heart.

The porch light was on at her mom’s house, the simply blue post-war bungalow the perfect place for her mom to have moved into. It was the right size for a single woman and her dog, June, who they’d gotten shortly after her and Y/N’s day got divorced. Y/N usually stayed in the guest room, which she didn’t mind too much—she was proud of her mom for making a new life for herself in San Francisco. It just meant her bedroom at her dad’s house was even more special to her, the one remaining shred of her childhood.

“Nervous?” She asked Harry. He’d met her mom once, back in the summer before he left for Dunkirk press. They’d gotten on famously, but they definitely weren’t as close as Harry and her dad. One time she’d walked into his house to find him on the phone with her dad, jabbering about songwriting and the brilliance of Stevie Nicks.

He shut the car door behind him and walked to the trunk, popping it open. “A bit, yeah.” He pulled out their suitcases and shut the door, looking up to where she leaned against the car. “I just don’t want her to think I’m horrible for getting her daughter pregnant, ya know?”

Y/N scoffed, and walked over to him, hands on his cheeks. “H, it’s not like you were the only one having sex. It’s a two-way street—I’ve got just as much responsibility in this as you.”

He nodded, leaning into the press of her fingers on his skin. Together they walked up to the front door, Y/N knocking softly. The door swung open not even a minute later, her mom standing there beaming at them. “Mama!” Y/N wrapped her mom up in a hug, her mom’s blunt bob swinging as they rocked back and forth. Her mom was a hugger, always had been.

“Hi you two,” her mom said, embracing Harry next. “Come in, you must be exhausted from the drive.”

They made their way inside, the screen door slamming shut behind them. Inside it felt like her mom—a winter candle burning on the counter, the news softly running on the TV, a blanket thrown over the couch. A glass of wine sat on the coffee table half-empty and Y/N looked at it longingly. How was she going to make it until June without a nice relaxing glass of wine at night?

Harry was talking to her mom, telling her about the drive and how they’d stopped for burgers, her mom telling him about her preferred In-n-Out order. “Let me take you back to the room,” she said, and Y/N and Harry trailed behind her to the guest bedroom where a fresh set of sheets adorned the bed, a soft glow from the bedside table lamp. “Here you are,” she said, leaning against the wall as Harry set up the suitcases in the corner. “I’ll let you guys settle in for a minute. I’ll be in the kitchen, okay?”

Y/N nodded and her mom left the room, shutting the door behind her. She looked to Harry, who was sitting on the bed, a lingering gaze on her face. “What are you thinking about?”

“Didn’t realize you didn’t have a bedroom here.”

Y/N glanced around the room, the nondescript art making it obvious that it wasn’t Y/N’s room. There were no traces of her in it except for the framed photos on the dresser of her and her mom from her childhood, the ones her dad’s best friend had taken when she was seven. “When she moved up here it just didn’t make sense,” she explained. “Only two bedrooms, after all.”

“Mhm,” Harry said, grabbing her waist so she could nestle between his knees. “Kinda liked the idea of sleeping in your childhood bed.”

“Dirty, dirty boy,” she murmured against his lips, bending down to kiss him. “Well, don’t worry, we’ll be sleeping in yours to make up for it.”

He nudged at her neck, pressing a kiss to the skin there, a soft gasp leaving Y/N’s mouth. “Can you believe I’ll have my girl and my baby in bed with me?” He kissed the juncture of her jaw and neck and she carded her fingers through his hair, loving the way his eyes fluttered shut from the touch.

“Lucky man,” she said.

He kissed her one more time before saying, “Got that right.”

Hearing her mom in the kitchen, she pulled away from his grasp. “We should go out to my mom.”

“Gonna tell her now?” He asked, standing up from the bed.

Y/N considered it. It was late, but she couldn’t very well stand in her mother’s house and pretend. “Yeah. I don’t want to pretend.” She bent down, unzipping her suitcase so she could pull out her mom’s gift from where it was tucked in between her clothes. With a kiss between her shoulder blades, Harry followed her out of the room, their gift held tightly in her fingers.

She was nervous, she had to admit, as she walked into the room. Her mother had always wanted her to wait until she was older to have kids, to have a full career and life before she started a family. But she didn’t think that her mom would be unhappy with her once she told her—her mom had always been there for her, through thick and thin, every step of the way. This was changing Y/N’s life forever, so of course her mom would be supportive, she told herself.

“Mama?”

Her mom’s head popped up from where she stood at the sink, washing dishes from her dinner. “Room okay?” She asked, drying her hands on a dish towel.

“Great,” Harry answered, hand squeezing Y/N’s. “We wanted to give you your Christmas gift, actually.”

“Oh!” Her mom’s eyes widened, eyes darting to her small tree nestled in the corner of the living room. “Thought we could wait for the morning, but that’s fine. Can I get you anything? Wine, water?”

“Water is perfect,” Harry replied. He had promised to abstain from the same things she had to, a promise Y/N wasn’t sure he would be able to keep but loved the idea of. He had been so sweet when he’d made it, pushing the bottles of wine to the back of his pantry and swearing he wouldn’t touch a sip of alcohol until the baby was born.

Her mom filled two glasses with water and together they all migrated to the living room. Y/N could feel her heart hammering in her chest. This was more anxiety-inducing than telling her dad, who she knew wouldn’t say a word to her about it, be nothing but supportive. But her mom had a tendency to be a bit judgmental, a side Y/N had experience a few times in her life and one she hated. She swallowed her fear, though, and handed her mom the paper bag, the tissue paper crinkling in the room.

She leaned into Harry’s side as her mom opened the bag, thankful for the comfort of his arm wrapping around her waist softly, the reminder of him being there to support her.

Then her mom pulled out the onesie, “I <3 Grandma!” embroidered on the front, flowers all over the material, and her mom yelped in surprise. She looked up at the two of them, eyes wide, disbelief all over her features. “You’re pregnant?”

“Yes,” Y/N said, unsure how to read her mom’s reaction.

“This isn’t a prank? I’ve seen them on the internet before.”

Of course she had. “No, Mom. It’s real.”

Her mom didn’t said anything for a bear, her eyes flickering between the onesie and Y/N, and then to Harry and back down. “Congratulations, honey,” she finally said. “Harry, can I talk to Y/N alone for a bit?”

Harry stirred against her. “Uh, of course. I’ll be in the room, okay, love?” He pulled away, a lingering kiss to her head, and left the room, leaving Y/N and her mom alone.

When the door clicked shut, her mom finally spoke. “Are you sure this is what you want to do?”

“Yes,” Y/N replied without even thinking. “I thought a lot about it before I even told Harry, and we talked about it once I told him. He wants this baby, and so do I.”

“But your career,” her mom said, voice hardening and the sound making Y/N stomach curl. “It’s just starting out. Won’t this affect it at all?”

“I can still be a mom and work,” she said, pointedly. “You did it, after all.”

“I was 33 when I had you,” her mom reminded her. “You’re only two years out of school.”

Y/N sighed. This was the exact reaction she didn’t want from her mom, but at the same time it didn’t surprise her. “This wasn’t in the plan and I know the timing isn’t great, but I want to have this baby. I love Harry and he’s going to be an amazing father.” Her hand slipped down to cup her belly, where a bump wasn’t quite apparent but would be soon enough.

“When he’s here,” her mother said and Y/N glanced up from her belly to her mother, whose expression was blank.

“What does that mean?”

Her mother gave her a pointed look. “You know exactly what that means, Y/N. You’re going to be essentially a single mom. It’s not even like it was with your dad—Harry’s one of the most popular celebrities in the world. How is he going to be able to be here for you? For your child? And what about privacy—have you even thought about what it’s going to be like to raise a child in the public eye? How are you going to have playdates and send your child to school and let them live a normal life? It was so hard for me—you saw that. It was hard on you to have your dad gone all the time, and you always told me how you didn’t want that. And now here you are, doing it all over again.”

Y/N could feel her heart beating faster, the anger rising in her body. She hated it when her mom spoke like this about her father, as if all that happened in her life was all because of her dad, but she knew it wasn’t true. She loved her father, always had, despite her mother’s attempts to sow seeds of discontent in her. “Harry isn’t my dad,” she said, trying to keep her voice measured, but failing miserably. “He wants this child, Mom! I tried to shut him out, tried to force him to leave, and he wouldn’t let me! He wants to raise this child and he wants to raise it with me. We talk about things, you know—it’s not like you and Dad, living in a house where you don’t even talk to one another.” Suddenly it was spilling from her, all the things unsaid over the years, her anger at her mother’s attack on not only herself, but on Harry who had been nothing but good. “You don’t know Harry, so how dare you paint him to be someone he isn’t.”

“He may want this baby now,” her mother said, a lace of venom dripping from her words that Y/N hadn’t heard in years. “But what about whenever you’re telling him he can’t tour because you need help? And what about whenever you’re left at home, taking care of a child while the father of your child is off gallivanting across the world? Will you still want him around then?”

She pushed herself off the couch, the desire to argue with her mother not something she wanted to play into. She just wanted to get out of there, to grab Harry and go. The way her mother spoke to her about Harry made her see red, and she didn’t want to hear it anymore.

“Don’t you walk away from me, Y/N.”

At the sound of her mother’s words, Y/N whirled around, staring her mother straight in the eyes. “I’m not a child, Mom. I know what I’m getting myself into. I’ve thought long and hard about this decision, about how my life is going to change, and this is the decision I made. This is the decision I made with Harry. We’re talking about his tour, how he’s going to do it. We’re talking about the life we’re going to have together. But I also know who he is—he loves what he does, and I love that it makes him happy. I can’t ask him to give it up, even if it would be easier, because it’s part of who he is. If he didn’t have that, he wouldn’t be the man I fell in love with.

“I don’t care what you think about this,” she said and she realized the words were true. Her mother’s opinion of her didn’t matter nearly as much as it used to and she didn’t know when that had changed. “I’m doing this and I would love your support, but if it’s not there, I’ll be okay. But I’m not going to sleep under your roof while you speak about the man I love like that.” And with that, she spun on her heel and walked down the hall, heading straight for the guest bedroom where Harry was waiting for her.

When she pushed open the door, Harry was already on his feet, walking towards her. “We’re leaving,” she told him, ignoring the arms he held out for her. “Now. We’ll find a hotel—I just cannot be here with her right now.”

Harry nodded, not fighting her on it. He had probably heard the entire fight—the walls in her mother’s house weren’t thick. He helped her zip up her suitcase and find her phone that she had plugged in, tucking everything into her purse without a word. They left the room they had barely even settled into, suitcases behind them as they walked down the hall.

Her mom stood in the same exact spot, staring as they walked towards her. “Please, Y/N—“

“No,” she said, cutting her mom off. “I came here hoping you would be happy for us, but if you aren’t that’s okay. Just don’t call me until you are ready to welcome Harry, and our baby, with open arms.” She unlocked the door and pushed the screen door open, holding it as Harry exited behind her.

“Wait,” Harry said as she went to close the door. He pushed it open and stepped into the house, Y/N watching as he looked her mom straight in the eye. “I love your daughter, Trisha,” he said, “and I’m not going anywhere. I cannot wait to have a family with her, to love her for the rest of my life. And I hope you can come to accept that.” He pulled the door shut behind him, Y/N watching him with wide eyes and love in her heart. “Come on,” he said, tucking his hand in hers. “Let’s go.”

He pulled out of the driveway wordlessly, holding Y/N’s hand tight over the console. “I love you,” she said, her words making Harry glance at her. “Endlessly.”

With a soft kiss to her hand, she knew that she had made the right decision. “I love you more,” he said.

They found a hotel downtown, Harry running the room on his credit card despite her protests, and took the elevator upstairs to their room. Y/N was exhausted from fighting with her mom, even if it wasn’t long. She hated arguing with people, but especially her mom. And now she was sitting on a hotel bed as Harry set up their room, running through the argument in her head over and over again, playing over each of her words, analyzing each with precision.

“Baby,” Harry said, crawling across the bed behind her so his body surrounded hers. “Come shower with me.”

She leaned back into his body, letting him absorb her weight. “I can’t believe she said those things.”

“Me either,” he agreed, “but can we shower and then talk about it? Know you’ll feel better after.”

“I guess,” she said, letting him pull her off the bed and guide her into the bathroom, the look on her mother’s face when the door slammed shut behind her in her brain on repeat.

With delicate hands, Harry untied the laces of her Converse, peeling her socks off and not reacting when she tried to get him to stop, worried her feet smelled. Instead, he looked up at her and said, “Bit past that, love.” He pulled her sweater off, then her loose-fitting jeans, then made her turn around so he could unclip her bra and shimmied her underwear down her body, leaving her naked in the hotel bathroom. He shed his clothes in rapid time and turned on the shower, warm water cascading down from the shower head. “C’mon,” he said, stepping in and beckoning to her, his curls flattening under the water. “Let me wash your hair.”

The prospect sounded divine, so she followed him in, letting him position her so she was directly under the stream. He hummed a tune she hadn’t heard before as he squirted the hotel shampoo in her hair, running it through her locks tenderly.

“What’s that?” She asked, bobbing her head back so he could get better access to her locks.

“Hm?”

“The song that you’re humming.”

“Oh,” he said, pushing her head forward to let the water rinse out the shampoo. “Wrote it a few days ago.”

Conditioner was next, a blob in his hands before he started massaging it into her hair. “What’s it about?”

He was quiet for a minute, untangling each of the knots in her hair like he knew she did. “Our baby,” he said, words so quiet they were almost lost under the stream of water.

She turned around in his hold, eyes fastening on his. The water was warm on her skin as she looked up at him, wonder in her brain at the sweetness in his eyes as he ran his fingers up and down her arms. “Really?”

He nodded, a flush to her cheeks that she adored. “Woke up in the middle of the night and the tune just…came to me. Don’t quite have all the lyrics yet, though.”

Without a pause, she pulled his body into hers, struggling to find the way to show him how that made her feel. “Will you play it for me when it’s done?”

“It was goin’ to be your birthday present,” he mumbled.

“I guess I’ll wait,” she told him and turned back around to let him continue washing her hair. “I meant what I told my mom.”

“Hoped so.” He brushed his hand through her hair to let the conditioner run out of it. “Nearly made me cry.”

“Why?”

He paused. “So different from when you first told me,” he said, words rough in his throat. “To hear how you feel now, how you defended me to your mum, it meant a lot to me.”

“H,” you said, “I love you. No matter what.”

He didn’t reply, but she knew it wasn’t because he didn’t feel the same way, but because if he told her he would cry. She could hear it in his words, feel it in the air between them. Instead, he showed her how much he loved her by lovingly pulling out the knots in her hair, by washing every inch of her body, by even helping her shave her armpits, by wrapping her up in a hotel robe after and rubbing lotion into her skin. He passed her a toothbrush with toothpaste on it and side-by-side they brushed they teeth, soft gazes in the mirror. And then he turned off the light and pulled her into bed next to him, arms surrounding her body and holding her as she cried, her mother’s words swirling through her thoughts. He pressed kisses to her hair and murmured how much he loved her, how proud he was, what a great mother she was going to be. With each touch he helped heal her heart, push the words away, focus on the truth: that she was happy with him, no matter what anyone tried to convince her of. She just hoped he would stay around even when she doubted it.

The drive to Holmes Chapel brought Y/N peace, the English countryside a warm embrace, the settled and peaceful look on Harry’s face making her smile as he drove. She had been ignoring text messages from her mother since she had woken up, and being away from Wi-Fi meant her phone wasn’t buzzing with text messages and phone calls every few minutes. Suddenly, Y/N was thankfully for the fact that she didn’t have cell service in England, because it made her push away her worries and focus fully on Harry.

He was describing his mother’s home to her. The furniture collected from charity shops over the years, Anne having a knack for finding the thrown away and giving it a new home, despite his many offers to buy her new furniture. She liked filling her house with stories of the past, of considering the life a side table or a throw pillow had before it found her. Y/N thought it was quite sweet, and from what she knew about Anne it didn’t surprise her in the slightest. Gemma and her boyfriend Michal were going to be there when they arrived, both of the Styles children bringing home their significant others, something which apparently Harry hadn’t done in a while. When he revealed this, she smiled and told him that she was honored to be there.

It was a three hour drive that passed quickly, since Y/N fell asleep about halfway in, her head lolling on her shoulder as the countryside passed by. She woke to Harry’s voice, murmuring, “We’re here, love,” in her ear and unbuckling her seatbelt. “Time to go give my mum the surprise of her life, yeah?”

That idea woke Y/N up right away. She was admittedly nervous to tell Harry’s mother, especially after how telling her own had gone. Although from what she knew of Anne and Harry’s own accounts, Anne seemed to be much more willing to go with the flow, surprises rolling off of her quickly after years with Harry Styles as her son. So she tried not to dwell on it as Anne and Gemma rushed out of the house, enveloping Harry into their arms and then Y/N, a flurry of hugs and kisses to the cheeks that had her feeling like she was being welcomed home.

The house was smaller than Y/N expected, but somehow perfect. A wide white door and a lovely patio outside, white framed windows that reminded her of her own childhood home. There was red brick she loved and a large tree outside. “You look beautiful, dear,” Anne said, an arm around Y/N’s shoulders as she guided her inside. “Glowing, you are. You must tell me your secret!”

Pregnancy, she thought to herself, but instead just said, “Lots of moisturizer,” which had Anne chuckling to herself.

The house was just as Harry had described. Laden with rugs and family photos, a few of Harry’s awards on the walls, displayed with pride. A giant Christmas tree sat in the corner, hung heavily with ornaments and tinsel, Y/N smiling at the sight of an ornament with a young Harry’s face on it, her having a nearly identical one at home on her mother’s tree. Although she didn’t have time to notice it. “So this is it.” She turned and found Harry standing behind her, watching her study his childhood home. “What do you think?”

“It’s exactly as you said,” she replied. “I love it.”

He pressed a kiss to her temple. “Want to see my room?”

“Desperately,” she replied, which had Harry chuckling.

“Mum,” he called into the house, “I’m going to show Y/N my room. Be back in a jiffy.”

“Don’t make too much racket!” She heard Gemma holler through the hall, “These walls are thin, in case you’ve forgotten!”

“Shut it!” Harry replied, Y/N laughing at their exchange, it making her wish for not the first time that she had a sibling. “Come on, love.”

They climbed the stairs, Y/N commenting on his yearly school portraits that decorated the staircase, which he tried to cover her eyes for so she couldn’t see them, but she managed to wrangle free. She had to admit that Harry was a downright adorable child, although when she looked at his face—dimple and crinkled eyes from laughter, she wasn’t surprised. The thought had her considering what their child would look like, which she couldn’t help but smile at the thought of.

“Whatcha smilin’ about?”

“Thought about what our child would look like,” she said softly, Harry’s eyes lighting up at the thought.

His hands found her waist, tucking her close to him, her back pressed against the wallpapered walls of the second floor. “And what are you thinking?”

“With your face,” she said, a finger running down his cheek, “and my brain, they’re going to be unstoppable.”

He frowned. “But your face is nicer.”

“They have to have your eyes,” she said with a pointed look. “I’m not willing to compromise on that. And your dimples.”

He smiled at her, the dimple in question popping out. “My dimples, eh?”

“Mhm,” she murmured. “Quite like them.” She stuck her index finger into the depth of it, the chuckle escaping his lips warming her body that was still cold from the December chill.

“I’ll allow it as long as they have your ears and your lips,” he said, a lingering kiss pressed to the latter. “Now let me kiss you in my childhood bed, for Pete’s sake.”

“Dirty, dirty boy,” she said, and let him lead her into his room. It was an alcove room, one he could barely stand up fully straight in, and somehow it suited him. The walls were a simple cream, but covered in posters of bands from eight years ago, when life was simple and he was still sixteen. An overstuffed bookcase sat against one wall and an oak dresser, most likely empty, sat next to it with photos of him and his family scattered across it. The main attraction though, was the bed, an oak headboard attached to it with plenty of pillows and a checkered duvet cover that reminded her of the ones she had seen in the dorm rooms of boys at college.

“Well?” Harry asked from where he leaned against the closed door. “Is it how you imagined?”

She turned and she couldn’t help herself—the appearance of Harry in a beanie and an oversized sweatshirt in his childhood bedroom with a shit-eating grin on his face made her want to have him in every way possible. “Better,” she replied before backing up until the back of her thighs hit the edge of his bed. “But better if you eat me out on your childhood bed.”

“Fuck me,” he breathed, feet moving quickly to reach her, hands on her cheeks before she could process it. His lips were sweet, wet from when he’d licked them before pulling her in, and his palms were calloused against her skin. But he felt like Harry—her Harry—and that’s all that mattered to her. With a nip at her neck, he fell to his knees in front of her, eyes darting up at hers as he shimming off her leggings and the blue cotton underwear underneath them. “Like these,” he mumbled against the skin of her inner thighs. “Might have to keep them.”

She gasped when his tongue licked up the length of her slit, the sensitivity from not having him on her skin in the past few nights combined with the raging hormones in her bloodstream had her keening for him. “They’re just cotton,” she said through gritted teeth when he sucked on her clit, toying with her. “Harry, Jesus.” “Not my name,” he smiled against her and Y/N couldn’t help but tug on his hair as if to tell him Shut it you narcissist, which just made Harry chuckle. The vibrations sent shockwaves through her body, her head falling back as a moan of his name left her mouth. “Gotta be quiet,” he reminded her, shoving two fingers in her mouth that she quickly accepted, lolling her tongue around them like it was a lollipop. The sight had Harry bucking into the end of the bed, which Y/N just grinned at, not missing it for a second. When Harry had his mouth on her, she couldn’t look anywhere else.

Then he darted his tongue inside of her and Y/N’s hand went to her breasts, which had grown from her pregnancy and Harry didn’t seem to mind, adoring how sensitive they were. “More,” she begged, voice rough in the room. “Please, please, H.”

“Comin’ love,” he said, sucking on two of his fingers before pressing one to her slit, the cold feeling of his rings on her hot flesh making her gasp. “Like that, baby? Like it when I fuck you with my fingers, my rings still on? The fingers you just had in your mouth?”

“Harry,” she groaned, trying to contain the sounds threatening to escape her. Not being able to hold up her body anymore she rested on her hands, propping up her body on his mattress. She knew that it made her breasts stick out, which Harry loved—he was a man, after all—and the sound of him grunting at the sight made her smile at him coyly. “Like the view?”

He sucked on her clit in response before twirling his tongue in a cruel circle around her labia. “Love the view,” he muttered against her, spit falling from his mouth. “Love you, baby. Fuck, look at you as I fuck you—like you’re made for me.”

“Close,” she said, the sound muffled against her hand she had thrown over her mouth to keep the sounds in. She was leaning on just one hand, unsteady and about to let go if he let her. She loved to let him control her orgasms, the sound of him telling her to come always sending waves of pleasure through her body.

“Yeah?” He said, inserting another finger and curling them so she was bucking against his hand, his name an echo on her tongue. “Come for me,” he murmured, fingers digging into her thighs to hold her steady, his rings imprints on her skin. “But you gotta stay quiet love—I’ll have you screaming for me when we’re home, okay?”

She turned her head into the duvet in an attempt to silence the scream rising in her chest, but when she came, it just simply wasn’t enough. Anne and Gemma would’ve probably heard her if they were outside the door, a muffled scream of his name flowing from her mouth. She bucked against his hand, chasing her high and Harry licked her through it, the cold saliva from his tongue and his rings inside of her making her body shake.

“Fuck,” Harry said when she finally came down, body pliant in his hands. “That was bloody incredible.”

He pulled his fingers from her, a hiss leaving her teeth at the emptiness inside of her. “That’s how you got me pregnant,” she told him with a laugh.

“But that involves my dick,” he informed her, crawling up her body so he could smother her face in kisses, the slick of her still on his chin.

“Yes,” she said, pushing him away. “But it was that and then your dick that got me pregnant. You’re good, you know.” She rolled over, a hand on his chest. “Not that you need to hear it. Your ego is already too big for this relationship.”

“Ha!” He grabbed at her sides, pulling her closer into him. “You love my big ego. And my dick.”

Her head dropped to his chest with a groan of defeat. “God, you’re such a boy sometimes, I swear.”

With a kiss to her temple, he sat up and tugged her along with him. “C’mon, we can’t stay too much longer or Gemma will never let me forget it.” She licked at his chin, letting the rest of her juices land on her tongue before following him downstairs, trying not the laugh at the way he walked, obviously trying not to let the material brush against his dick too much. She truly loved a menace, she thought to herself. But he was her menace.

In the kitchen, Gemma, Anne, and Michal were sat with cups of tea, two set out for Y/N and Harry that had now gone cold. “Took you long enough,” Gemma said. “Tea’s gone cold while you two got reacquainted upstairs.”

“Gem,” Anne scolded. “Don’t embarrass your brother.” Gemma rolled her eyes, but stood up to reheat their tea.

Harry wrapped his arms around Y/N and she leaned into him, loving how his hands subconsciously rested on her lower belly, right over where their child rested. “Mum, Gem” he said as Gemma returned with their now warm tea. “We have somethin’ for you.”

“Oh!” Anne set down her tea and surveyed the two of them. “But we don’t do gifts until the morning of.” That was still two days away, but obviously Harry was eager. Y/N had told him that he could choose when he wanted to tell Anne, and it seemed like now was the time he had chosen. He was like Y/N, she thought to herself, unable to keep a secret from her parents for long.

“I know,” Harry replied. “But want to give it to you both now.”

Gemma shrugged. “I don’t mind an early gift,” she said.

“Perfect. One second,” Harry told them, disconnecting his arms from Y/N’s waist. “It’s in our luggage. Meet me in the living room?”

They all nodded and Harry disappeared, the sound of a zipper in the other room. “Well, he’s certainly excited,” Anne told Y/N, coming over and giving her a smile. “It’s good to see him so happy.”

Y/N couldn’t help but wonder how often Anne had seen her son unhappy over the years, how many women had broken his heart, how many times the world had broken him down. Harry had shared some of it—the disappointment over Zayn leaving, the women who had ripped him to shreds since Harry gave his heart so willingly—but not all of it. She supposed with time, she would learn it all, but she was no longer eager to uncover every stone of him that she was when they were starting out. Now, she knew she would have quite a long time to know every part of Harry, and the idea quite appealed to her.

Anne and Gemma sat on the couch, Michal in one of the armchairs, and Y/N took the other one, the one closest to the fire burning in the hearth that stockings hung from. After growing up with solely warm winters, it was nice to be someplace cold for a change.

Harry wandered in with the last two bags, one for Anne and one for Gemma. Gemma’s was Y/N’s favorite, the one that said, “I love Auntie” in multi-colored letters and confetti all over it. She fully planned on finagling it back from Gemma so she could actually dress their child in it one day. “Here you are,” Harry said, handing both the bags over before going to sit on the arm of Y/N’s chair, her hand in his.

Gemma looked at her mother. “On the count of three?” Anne nodded, a playful smile, and they counted down, Harry squeezing Y/N’s hand in anticipation.

“Oh,” Anne said when she pulled out the onesie, the one nearly identical to Y/N’s mom’s. She looked up at Y/N and Harry and there were tears in her eyes that made Y/N want to cry. “Really?”

“You’re pregnant!” Gemma shrieked, dropping the onesie before bounding over to Y/N. “Oh my god, I’m going to be an Aunt! A little niece or nephew!” She grabbed her into a hug, laughing with joy in Y/N’s ears. “Best Christmas gift. Oh my god, Haz!” Gemma pulled her brother into a tight hug, and Y/N’s eyes rested on Anne who was full on crying at the onesie in her hands.

Harry saw it and went over to his mom, his arm around her shoulders. “You’re going to be a grandma,” he told her, which only made her cry harder. “Mum?”

“Happy,” she reassured him, before taking his face in her hands. “So happy I could explode!” This was the reaction Y/N wanted, she thought to herself, surveying the scene of pure joy. “Y/N,” Anne said, arms outstretched. “Come here, love!”

Y/N practically floated to Anne, the prospect of a mother’s arms around her exactly what she needed. Anne bundled her up in them, tears still streaming down her face as she gave her a tight hug. “We’re due in mid-June,” she said when Anne pulled back, it being the only thing she could think to say.

Anne beamed at her, eyes darting between her and Harry. “My word,” she told them. “This it the best surprise. A little baby! My baby boy,” she said, taking Harry’s face in her hands and kissing his cheeks, “is going to be a Dad.”

Harry’s eyes caught Y/N over his mother’s shoulders, a reassuring gaze that told her he knew what she was thinking. That he wanted to remind her it would all turn out okay. And when she looked around her to the happy scene, the fire in the hearth and the joy on the faces in the room, she knew he was right.

Harry purposefully woke up earlier than Y/N on Christmas morning. He had been trying to figure out when to give the key to his house (not that she didn’t already have one, but it was the idea that counted) and finally he had settled on Christmas Day. So when he awoke, snow falling softly outside his window, he scrambled out of bed to grab the key he had wrapped up in a box the night before with his mother’s help.

“Harry?” Y/N’s sleepy voice came from the bed, her hand sticking out to the place where he’d just been lying.

He loved that she always craved his presence in her sleep. He had noticed it early on, the way she held him in her sleep, always burrowed deeper into his body, was hesitant to let go of him in the morning. With the box in his hand, he crawled back onto the bed, occupying his old space. “Morning, sleepyhead,” he said, placing the box on her pillow, right next to her head.

Her eyes fluttered open, eyelashes brushing against the pillowcase. Then her gaze met the blue box tied with a white ribbon sitting on the pillow, and her eyes widened. “What’s this?”

“One of your Christmas gifts,” he said. “Didn’t want it to be in front of the whole family.”

She sat up, pushing back the duvet cover revealing his old school shirt that she had worn to bed. When he had told her to pick anything she wanted, she had gone through every shirt in his drawer before settling on this one, loving how soft the material was from years of use. Harry loved how she looked in his clothes, but seeing her in the mornings with messy hair and adorned in his Holmes Chapel Comprehensive School shirt made his heart clench.

He didn’t know how she would respond to the gesture, the request for her to move in with him. To his brain, it made sense—they were having a kid together, after all—but he also knew how Y/N was about these things. It meant commitment and she was always hesitant to take that next step. “Open it,” he told her, sitting up too so their bodies faced one another.

Her fingers grasped the edge of the box, eyes flickering to his face before pulling it open. Inside lay the key to his house, golden and ridged, the one that fit perfectly into the lock on his front door. “Harry…”

“Will you move in with me?”

For a few beats, she just stared at the key, but when her eyes raised to his, he knew what she was going to say. “Yes.”

He leaned over and kissed her, one filled with love and passion and everything he was trying to say. She dropped the box to the bed and let him press her back into the mattress. “Can’t wait to make you come in our bed,” he mumbled against her cheek, drawing a chuckle from her, but she didn’t stop him she he drew her underwear to the side and dropped to his knees, wanting his girl to start her Christmas off right.

TAGLIST:

@smokeinherperfume @afire-hes @harryinsweatersandbandanas @marinalima3 @havethetimeofyourstyles @ursogoldenshan @inmygardensuit @marinalima3 @amaridon @harrys-watermelons @dontgiveupthedayjob @cronias13 @apples2019 @laula843 @afterstylesmadeit @kait-brin @harrys-watermelons @groovybaybee @clumsywithlove93 @1142590m @erin0717 @ketchuplukehemmo @detroitkiwis @meetmeinfleetwood @kakaym @harrystyles-concepts @harrymoncheri @berrynarrybanana @samjo1986 @harrydobedirectioning

Would you like to know when I update The Only Exception? Let me know here!

NEXT CHAPTER COMING JULY 25TH @ NOON CST

#Harry Styles Fan Fiction #harry styles fic #harry styles one shot #harry styles writing #harry styles smut #harry styles drabble #harry styles dad

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vsquadgoals · 4 years

Note

from the most recent list u reblogged 40 & 44 w toddy ? 🥺 please please please super angsty like he doesn’t think he’s good enough or something. ❤️❤️

40. Tell me what the fucks wrong with me?

44. Don’t look at me, I’m a mess

Y/n and Toddy have been best friends for as long as they can remember, they’ve been there for each other for everything, they’re best and their worst, today was no different. David had posted his vlog where Toddy and y/n were cuddling on the lovesac, she was running her fingers through his hair sleepily. Sure y/n and Todd were just friends but they were close, they cuddled and flirted all the time, they always have its just how their friendship is that’s all, or so Y/n thought.

Y/n was scrolling through the comments on David’s vlog, she probably shouldn’t do this but it always gave her a good laugh at the things people say, she wasn’t the type to let negative comments get to her, but Todd was. She stopped at one of the top comments that has over a thousand likes.

‘I can’t believe that y/n would even think of dating someone like Todd. She’s WAY too good for him. He’s such a player, he’s going to ruin that girl.’

Of course y/n wasn’t thinking about dating Todd it was just how their relationship is, sure she had a crush on Todd a couple times in their friendship but she never wanted to ruin the bond that they had, she loved him too much to lose him as a friend. The comment only bothered her because she knew Todd would’ve seen it.

Y/n made her way over to Zane’s new house where Todd was also living now, she walks inside like she always did, they gave her a spare key since she’s here everyday anyway. “Toddy?” She calls into the quiet house, she looks into the living room and smiles sweetly at Matt who’s sitting on the couch playing Animal Crossing. “Hey Matty. Where is he?” She asks since she hadn’t heard a response from Todd yet. “In his room, He hasn’t left it all day.” He says concerned. Y/n nods and thanks him before heading down the hall to Todd’s bedroom. She knocks softly before cracking the door. “Toddy?” She calls softly peaking into the room, Todd was laying on his bed covers over his head, she thought he was sleeping until she heard what sounded like crying. Y/n walks into the room closing the door behind her, she makes her way over to his bed, she kneels on the floor next to his side of the bed. “Toddy what’s wrong?” She asks concerned and tries to pull the blanket from his face but he holds it tightly. “Don’t look at me I’m a mess.” he says holding back a sob, she finally gets the blankets off of him and he sits up tears still streaming down his cheeks.

“What are you doing here Y/n?” he asks harshly. Y/n wrinkles her brows looking at him confused, she stands and sighs. “Did I do something wrong Todd?” She asks chewing the inside of her cheek. Todd sighs and shakes his head, “Don’t you read the comments, I’m a loser, I’ll ruin you, you’re too good for me, I’m a player.” his voice cracking as he recites the comment. Fuck, she was praying he didn’t see it. She sat on the edge of his bad and put her hand on his cheek wiping away the fresh tears. “Baby, stop reading the comments, we’ve talked about this. They don’t know the Toddy I know.” Todd leans into her touch squeezing his eyes shut.

“Just tell me what the fucks wrong with me Y/n/n!” He begs now looking into her eyes that are slowly filling with tears of her own. He was breaking her heart, the fact that he thinks there’s something wrong with him when in her eyes he’s absolutely perfect.

“Todd...” She breaths shaking her head trying to blink away her tears. “You wanna know what’s wrong with you? You’re too perfect, too kind, too loving, way too sweet and thoughtful, you’re too good for us. That’s whats wrong with you, absolutely nothing else.” Tears are now flowing down her cheeks, in reality he was too good for her but their fans would never see that, all they see if the fuckboy he plays on the vlogs. Without thinking Todd grabs her face pulling her close, “I love you.” he breathes before kissing her lips with so much passion it made her head spin. She wraps her arms around his neck smiling against his lips, she pulls away to catch her breath, “ I love you Toddy.” She whispers smiling widely at him.

A/n: Ow my heart

#vlog squad imagine #david dobrik #toddy smith #toddy smith x reader #toddy smith fanfic #toddy smith imagine #🥺#im just 🥺🥺🥺

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psycho-slytherin · 5 years

Text

Strangers ch. 37

You finally bite back– and walk in on Yoongi.

Pairing: Yoongi x (female) Reader

Word count: 1.5k

Genre: fluff, angst

|mlist|

<–– Prev Next ––>

You shrug on your coat, beyond relieved to be able to wear your layers again. Commercial filming is done for the day– you only have to show up tomorrow morning and hopefully be done in a few hours. God, you were cold, so cold, and tense. Your phobia has been messing with your head and keeping you on edge, and you’re so fucking angry that you’ve let yourself become weak. You’re a liar; you’ve always managed to bullshit your way around weaknesses. Letting a fear so illogical disrupt your life? You hate it. It’s pathetic.

Your phone buzzes as you wait inside the studio for Lisa to pick you up, and you check it– it might be Yoongi, and you could use a mood booster.

@captainkookie21: lol @yourname is such a royal bitch, amirite??

Ah, yes. Of course. Of course, why would it be Yoongi, when you’ve got such merciless hatred to keep you constant company? Why would it ever be Yoongi? You’re just friends, it’s not like he cares– why should he care? You’re typing before you realize it; you’re sick of taking all this shit.

@yourname: @captainkookie21 royal is right sweetie I’m such a queen <3 glad u at least know my name tho since I sure don’t know yours ;)

You send the tweet and shove your phone in your purse. The anger inside you has been temporarily assuaged, but you can still feel it bubbling beneath your skin. You’re pathetic, you’re weak, you’re a liar, and everyone hates you. You’ve spent so long in despair– god, when will you ever just get a break? Why can’t something just go right?

Your phone rings, and the caller ID tells you it’s your best friend.

“Lisa? Are you outside?”

“Hey girl! Sorry, I’m calling to tell you I can’t make it– an assignment I forgot about came up in class and I gotta pull an all-nighter to get it finished. I’m really sorry! Call a car back to yours, okay? Love you, mwah!”

You grit your teeth and sigh. You need to go home and watch YouTube until your eyes bleed. Usually when you needed cheering up you’d watch BTS crack videos or Run episodes, but even that seems wrong now that you know them for real.

Whatever. You take an Uber home and fall onto your bed. Maybe you’ll actually fall asleep early for once once.

~~~

@kceleb-updates: NEW! #MoonOverTheSea’s @yourname was criticized for replying to a Netizen anti’s tweet! Y/n’s had lots of controversy since becoming @BTS_twt’s #SUGA’s girlfriend. Stay tuned!

Hoseok sits back with a sigh. “She really can’t go a day without sparking some argument or another.”

“It’s not her fault,” Yoongi growls, scribbling rapidly in a beat-up notebook.

“She could’ve left well enough alone. After dealing with those haters for so long, I thought she knew that by now.”

“It’s only gotten worse since they made us pretend to date. I still don’t know why Manager-nim thought it would be a good idea.”

“Hyung, if you didn’t have the dating excuse to be together, they would’ve slut-shamed her or called her a social climber for being out with you at night anyways. The photo, remember?” Hoseok shrugs, sprawled on the bed of their Japanese hotel room. “Face it– there’s no winning when she’s associated with us; they’re always going to compare her to you.”

“Ugh! I should’ve– done something, I should’ve said something! Hobi, she was put in danger because of me!” Yoongi still doesn’t look up, only gripping his pen tighter. “She keeps saying she’s fine but she’s not, and I know she’s strong– stronger than I was, than I could ever be– but she was hurt, nearly killed, and she’s fucking traumatized because of it. Because of me.”

“Quit beating yourself up, Yoongi hyung. Y/n is a grown woman and she’s making her own choices. She’s trying to protect you– haven’t you noticed? Jeez, she probably knew this was how you’d react– no wonder she kept it a secret.”

“I don’t need protecting anymore.”

“Neither does she.”

“But the haters–”

“So do something about them then. Y/n already has,” Hobi nods at his phone. “What are you going to do?”

Yoongi stares at his notebook. “What I do best.”

~~~

“Y/n, please, darling, don’t make me beg! C’mon, eyes closed, you don’t even have to kiss his cheek, just get closer to him.”

You swallow nervously and nod, before taking a breath and leaning forward, your lips barely brushing Wonho’s smooth skin.

“Perfect… trail your hand down his neck, that’s it… Wonho, give me a lip bite, look right into the camera– yes, exactly! We’ll have the music swell, and add the voiceover right here. And… cut! I think that’s our take!” The staff applauds as the director calls out the end of the commercial shoot. You grin inwardly– if you hurry, you can make it to the boys’ apartment for dinner.

Wonho extends a hand as you leave the set. “It was nice working with you, y/n. I hope to see you around sometime.”

You smile and shake his hand. Wonho had really been the best part of this freezing, somewhat demeaning endeavor. “Same, it was a good experience. I’m sure we’ll run into each other again.”

Lisa hasn’t texted since yesterday, so you figure she’s still working on the assignment. So much for no more rideshare apps, you think dryly as you’re dropped off a few blocks from the boys’ place. You can’t wait to surprise them, and it’ll be a good chance to ask Jimin for another video for Lisa.

You pull your hood up to cover your hair– bundled in all your layers, and with the sunset’s last breath settling over the city, the crowd of ARMYs clustered around the building ignore you easily. You slip into the side door using the spare key Yoongi lent you when you stayed with them and tiptoe up the stairs.

Holding back a giggle, you knock on the door to the apartment, and… nothing. No one answers. You knock harder– still nothing. Maybe they’re watching a movie? Or was their flight delayed? Yoongi said everyone would be back by Saturday evening and they have a private jet anyways, so they should be home.

You try the door and find it unlocked. Huh. It’s not trespassing if you’re their friend, right?

Tentatively you enter the house. “Guys…?” It feels eerily empty– maybe their flight was delayed. No, wait! You hear a voice, and music coming from down the hall. Are they recording? You’ve never been into any of their studios, but you’ve seen enough pictures online to know all about them.

Maybe you should leave. You’re about to turn around when you hear a muffled, yet familiar voice.

“So when there’s someone new… no, that’s not it.”

Well, at least you know your Yoongi is home. You quietly pad closer to the famed Genius Studio– You’re just curious, like any fan would be. You’re about to knock on the door when you hear something that stops you cold.

“Ugh– y/n!”

You practically jump out of your skin. Wait, what? Does he know I’m here? How? Your every drop of blood turns to ice and you back away from the door in case it swings open. Instead, Yoongi only continues; perhaps he’s talking to himself?

“Okay, okay. Trying again. This is take, uh… sixteen? Seventeen? Aish, who cares. C’mon, Agust, gotta get it right.” Yoongi’s muffled voice shifts in tone as a beat starts, and you can see Agust D in your mind’s eye when he begins to rap:

“Here’s someone new, a challenger to drown and rue, but think about it, mull it over, she’ll talk until you’re drop-dead sober, dock some points, you’re so below her, do your best to fucking loathe her, love her, think yourself so much above her–”

You feel half-hypnotized. Her? Who’s her? Maybe you should knock, it almost feels too personal, too intimate to overhear but you can’t interrupt, not now–

“She’s stronger than I’ll ever be, so if you’re gonna hate, hate me.”

If Yoongi keeps executing these perfect rhythmic shifts and internal rhymes you might be in serious danger of falling in love with him for real.

“Calling people snakes on a verbal kill spree only exacerbates the pain, trapping us in our brains, until there’s one way out, goddamn.”

“Beautiful,” you whisper, barely noticing that you’ve spoken aloud. Yoongi’s words, his raps, his poetry… it’s beautiful. You’re entranced to the point that you don’t notice the beat has stopped.

“Did you say something, Jimin-ssi?” Yoongi calls from inside his studio.

Oh shi-

The door swings open before you can react and Yoongi steps out. His expression is relaxed, unguarded... until he catches sight of you.

“Y-Y/n?”

A/N: Sorry for the short chapter, lovelies! Hope you enjoyed <3 As always, thanks for reading, and please don’t forget to like, comment, and reblog!

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magical-agatha · 5 years

Text

asking 'would you date a trans person' seems like a fucked up thing to me bc the question has like.. implications built in that theres something wrong with trans ppl. 'reblog if yes like if maybe' fuck off. whether someone is trans or cis shouldnt factor into whether ud date them?? it just rly seems to me like the person asking is rly saying 'i know trans ppl are subhuman and below cis ppl but would you still date one?' the question itself and especially framing it in a social media format thats clearly designed to bait notes is so fucked up to me. ppl are just gonna reblog it either to be a good ally or to perform allyship. and to the ppl trying to be good like, thank you, i wish u were more critical but i know ur trying sincerely and thats fantastic. but Fuck ppl who reblogged it performatively. and Fuck the person asking the question for agreeing with society's views on trans ppl and acting like its a big deal or that we have to beg to be considered worth love.

im not as articulate as i would like and im in the middle of a migraine but im just so fucking sick of like.. trans ppl who beg cis ppl for acceptance. im trans and im proud to be trans and i will never beg for my right to exist and neither should anyone else. stop sucking up to transphobes! you dont need their permission to exist and deserve love. especially stop repeating transphobic ideas and putting down other trans ppl, it wont make transphobes and bad cis ppl like you. you need to recognise who you should care about. you deserve to exist and you deserve love and being trans isnt something to be ashamed of. being trans is a wonderful amazing thing and its something to be proud of. love yourself, dont ask the wrong ppl for love and acceptance. there are good people who will love you for real and accept you without hesitation. if you stop throwing them under the bus theyd be happy to give you a chance. trans ppl shouldnt hate each other. we're a community. we're all fighting together. find the people who actually care about you and focus on being happy and loving yourself.

seeing trans ppl who have been lied to by transphobes and are trying to hurt other trans ppl makes me so incredibly sad. i rly hope they realise theyve been tricked and change their behaviour. its hard enough being trans in the current society, dont make it harder for yourself and others by hating yourself for being trans.

#hashtag blogging with aggy

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narutostuff101 · 6 years

Note

I love all ur shikatema scenario.. It was so cute.. How do u get an idea like that, i can't never imagine.. Can u do one scenario for me?? Like shikamaru is so jealous when temari with another man and he get possesive??

Hi anon! Thank you so much for the kind words. I really enjoy writing Shikatema and I’m glad that you find my stories good. My inspiration in @shikamarubase senpai. I love her stories and you should check them too. Anyways, this is for you anon!

“Do you think I’m handsome?”

“Ha?”

Temari gave a confused look at his unexpected question. Shikamaru was leaning against the door frame, arms folded across his chest and looked down at her with a half-serious expression.

“What’s with that all of a sudden?” Temari asked.

Shikamaru scratched the back of his neck, taking his time to answer her.

“I was just wondering… because I find you really beautiful and attractive… so I was… um…” Shikamaru trailed off and turned his gaze away from her — his cheeks slightly pink.

Temari blinked and burst out laughing at his bashfulness, which made Shikamaru pout to try hide his embarrassment.

“Do you want an official statement from me to determine whether you’re good-looking or not?” She teased, her eyes piercing through him.

“No…”, Shikamaru scrunched up his face in annoyance. “But… you’ve never said anything about my looks before! Even though we’ve been dating for like two months!” Shikamaru protested, his cheeks burning red. Temari sniggered at how desperate he looked.

“Fine. Beg for it.” She smirked. Her eyes glinted with mischief. She wasn’t going to let him have what he wants so easily.

However, Shikamaru didn’t feel like caving in to her demands this time. He wanted her honestly tell him that he was the most handsome and stunning person that had ever walked on the face of the Shinobi World.

“I not going to do that.” He muttered. “Troublesome…”

“Whatever then.”

Temari sighed feeling somewhat disappointed at her boyfriend’s lack of interest. Shikamaru wasn’t showing the reaction that she had wanted.

“We need to get going now, or we’ll be late to meet up with Chojuro.” Temari said as she got up from her seat. That was the reason Temari was in Konoha; they had a meeting with Chojuro to discuss about some matters regarding the Shinobi Union. He would be arriving soon.

Shikamaru grunted and left the room without another word, making Temari wonder if he was actually serious about her never declaring how handsome he looked…

Shikamaru kept his silence throughout the whole walk and had even greeted Chojuro curtly. Shikamaru kept a passive face during the meeting, and did not bother much about their discussion. Temari thought it was childish for Shikamaru to act like that. Just because she never expressed or commented on his good-looks doesn’t mean that she didn’t think he’s handsome!

Temari realised that this was a side of Shikamaru that she never knew existed. Again, she pondered whether it really mattered that much to him.

The meeting concluded and it was time to head back. As usual, Shikamaru would accompany her back to the inn she was staying. She glanced at Shikamaru who was still acting cold and uncommunicative.

That’s it!

Temari was going to slap some sense into him and tell him to drop this attitude. It was immature and foolish. Just as she opened her mouth to scold, a deep unfamiliar voice called her name.

“Temari-san! Long time no see!”

They both turned around to see who was the owner of the voice. It took awhile for Temari to finally recognize the man.

He had black hair that was swept back neatly, cropping a perfectly symmetrical face. His eyes were bright and shinning, complementing his good looks. A pretty boy…

“Tadaoka? It’s been a long time.” Temari greeted him, and smiled, just a little though. She did feel quite annoyed since this guy was interrupting her from beating some sense into her boyfriend.

“I was about to go home from a mission and saw you walking here. I had to come over and say hi.” He said charmingly and gave Temari and wide grin.

Temari felt Shikamaru move closer from behind her. He cleared his throat loudly as if to announce his existence. Her eyebrows twitched in annoyance.

“Temari, who’s this?”, he asked, feigning politeness. Temari shot him a dirty look before answering, “This is Tadaoka. He helped out with the Chunin exams last year.” She told him trying to keep her voice steady.

Tadaoka smiled. Shikamaru did not return it. Temari heard him mutter something but could not here what it was. Tadaoka who seemed pretty much unfazed by Shikamaru’s hostile attitude, addressed Temari once again.

“How’s everything? I’ve been meaning to see you for such a long time. It’s just that since we stay so far apart, it’s really hard to meet you. I think about you a lot y’know…”

Temari cocked her head to one side. Was this guy trying to flirt with her? It’s funny how men would just come up to her and say these kind of things. Men were strange. She hardly knew this person and she did not feel some sort of special connection with him just from working together for a month. And now he’s saying that he thinks about her? Why?

She thought that she’d just brush him off with a laugh and scoff, but Shikamaru beat her to that. He let out a loud snort.

“I wouldn’t count on that.” He said dismissively and immediately grabbed Temari’s left hand. Shikamaru put on a the fake-est smile he could and said, “Nice to meet you,” then turned around, tugging her along, even though her inn was totally in the opposite direction and leaving Tadaoka, confused and taken aback by his attitude.

Temari stared at Shikamaru with her mouth slightly agape with incredulity. Once they were a few meters away and Tadaoka was no where to be seen, Shikamaru stopped walking and turned to face her. He looked into her eyes but did not say anything. Temari stared back with ferocity making Shikamaru shrink a little under her intense gaze.

“What was that?” She asked in a low and dangerous voice. Shikamaru did not flinch. “If you think I’d let some guy flirt with you and not do anything, then you’re wrong.” He told her stiffly.

And here it was again, the side of Shikamaru that she wasn’t aware of.

“Are you… jealous?” She asked him.

Shikamaru looked away. “Maybe.” He muttered, keeping his eyes off her.

Temari sighed deeply. “Shikamaru!” She called him sharply. ”Let’s get this thing straight.” Shikamaru glanced sideways, peering into her eyes with his face still turned away.

“There is no one in this world that I’d rather be with, than you. I’m not just going to ditch you for some pretty boy. I have more dignity than to do that. Besides…”, Temari took his hand and clasped their hands tightly before continuing in a softer voice, “I think you are a very fine man. I think that’s what’s more important than how I think you look. But it if it really matters to you, I can assure you that you are a very handsome man in my eyes.”

She wasn’t saying it just to make him feel better.She spoke from her heart and meant every word. Shikamaru turned to her and grinned, his cheeks red. He scratched the back of his head and chuckled.

“Now that’s embarrassing.”

He didn’t see her punch that followed.

The End

A/N: Thanks anon for the request. It took me longer than expected to finish this but I hope you liked it. ;) Please Like, Comment, Reblog and Follow me for more! And, also drop in an ask in you like.

#shikatema #shikamaru #temari #naruto fanfic #anon #ask me

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naturallytom · 5 years

Text

One Day Later (TA!Tom Holland x reader)

a/n: welp. this was way more nsfw than i planned. oops. big thank u to @sunshinehollandd for reading this over!!

warnings: language, drinking/drunkenness (sort of), making out, nsfw but nothing too heavy/graphic, fluff, a teeny bit of angst

please reblog/leave feedback!!

“Good afternoon class and welcome to Sociological themes in Classic Literature. My name is Professor Jones.” The entire class was zoned out, as most students are the first day of classes. You were mindlessly tapping your pen against the top of your notebook page, your eyes flickering over the previously highlighted assignment due dates. If you were being totally honest, you didn’t really want to take this class, you were just taking it to fill your English requirement. You figured it’d be easy since you were a sociology major already. “..And before I let you all go today, I wanted to introduce your TA to you guys. His name is Tom, he’ll send out an email with his office hours and how to contact him later.” Professor Jones finished.

As soon as Tom stepped up to the podium, you could tell every girl was gonna be going to his office hours at some point. And could you blame them? No. Not exactly. He was cute. Like really really cute. His short brown hair was gelled up and he had pretty brown eyes that resembled those of a puppy. Rectangular dark brown glasses sat on the bridge of his nose, giving him a look that screamed ‘teaching assistant.’

“Hey guys, as Professor Jones said my name’s Tom, I’ll be the TA for this semester. I’ll send you all an email later that will have this information in it so you don’t have to worry about memorizing it right now but my office hours are Monday’s from 12-4pm, Wednesday’s from 3-5pm, and Thursdays from 1-3pm. If those don’t work for you I’m happy to meet up with anyone outside of those times, just send me an email or a text.” He smiled, grabbing his bag and leaving the room, waving on his way out. “Perfect. You’re all free to go. We’ll start discussing Pride and Prejudice next class so make sure you have the first three chapters read.” Professor Jones dismissed. The class filed out of the lecture hall, whispers of how cute TA Tom was filling your ears in both directions. “He’s so damn cute.” One girl giggled to her friend. “I hope he’s single.” Her friend sighed in response. “I’m so gonna text him with random questions just to talk to him either way.” You rolled your eyes. Sure, he was cute. But he was your TA. It would be unprofessional to try anything with him. Besides, he’s got to have a girlfriend, right? You got your answer a few weeks later. Classes were going steady, but midterm week was approaching and you needed to let loose and have some fun before you had to stress about Mr. Darcy, Elizabeth Bennet, and the theories of social class. The frat house was more alive than ever. Multi colored lights decorated the kitchen with music blaring throughout the entire house. Making your way to the kitchen, you grabbed your friend’s hand to ensure you didn’t lose them in the crowd. The last thing you needed was to lose your friend in a sea of drunk college guys. Your friend settled on a beer while you settled on making a rum and coke to start. Next thing you knew, your friend was drunk and dancing with a couple guys, making you chuckle. “Need another drink?” A voice called over the music. You turned, seeing a cute boy standing next to you. He seemed familiar but between the alcohol you already consumed and the madness of the party, you couldn’t put your finger on where you knew him from. “You’re doing shots?” You yelled over the music, seeing him pour tequila into the small glasses. That was not what you thought when he offered to make you a drink. “Wanna join me?” He shrugged, offering you one. Fuck it. You took the small glass, clinking your glass with his lightly before the two of you downed the alcohol, feeling it burn your throat. “Another one?” He offered. Why not? A short amount of time and god knows how many shots later and you were out of it. Sober enough to know what you were doing, but drunk enough to know you’d be hungover tomorrow morning. Your lips were pressed messily up against his, your hands tangled in his soft but short curls. The two of you made your way upstairs, finding an empty bedroom. As soon as you were inside, you were pressed up against the door, his tongue finding its way into your mouth. “Fuck, you’re a good kisser.” You breathed out as the brunette trailed kisses down your neck and along your jaw. “Thanks.” He paused, giving you a goofy smile, a massive but momentary change in his demeanor before he pressed his lips to yours messily again, this time guiding you to the bed and laying you down before climbing on top of you, kissing you again before pulling away and resting his forehead against yours. “Are you gonna do something?” You whined as his hand toyed with the end of your shirt. “Do you want me to?” He asked, straddling your waist and earning a groan from you. “Yes, fuck yes. Please do something.” You sighed as he kissed down your neck, leaving marks in his wake. “Hm I don’t know.” He teased, his breath fanning over your ear. “I need you to be really sure about this.” “Jesus christ, you want me to beg?” You groaned, making him shrug. “First of all, my name’s Tom.” He chuckled, you rolling your eyes. “Second of all, I just wanna make sure you’re really positive you’re okay with what we’re about to do but I’m more than happy to hear you beg.” “Fine.” You rolled your eyes. “Please, please do something, Tom. I need you.” “What do you need?” He teased again. “I don’t, fuck, I don’t know! Go down on me, fuck me, just do something for fucks sake!” You groaned. That was all the answer Tom needed. - When you woke up the next morning, your head was pounding and you were in an unfamiliar bed, but you remembered exactly what had happened. Though you still couldn’t figure out where you knew Tom from, you figured you’d never see him again anyway, giving you mixed feelings. You climbed out of his arms as gently and as softly as possible, putting your clothes back on, before heading out of the frat house to call your friend and head back to your apartment. - It wasn’t until the very next day that you remembered where you knew Tom from. You walked into your sociological themes in classic literature class, prepared for the review session held by the TA and froze almost as soon as you entered the room upon seeing the TA. Oh. Right. Tom is the TA for this class. That’s how you knew him. The marks on your neck still sat there proudly and a light blush rose to Tom’s cheeks when he saw them as you took your seat. You gave him a simple smile as you sat down, pretending to scroll through your phone as the other students filed in. The class was torture. That was the best word to describe it. It was difficult to focus on anything when you now knew that you fucked the goddamn TA. The dorky, innocent-seeming TA. Finally when the class was over, you got up to leave as soon as possible, but stopped when Tom called your name. You sighed and the two of you waited until the rest of the students were gone to break the uncomfortable silence between the two of you. “I did a good job on your neck.” He said smugly, this time it was your turn to feel your cheeks heat up under his gaze. “Yeah. Um, I enjoyed that.” You mumbled, internally face palming yourself at how awkward you sounded. “Oh I could tell from the pretty little noises you let out.” He chuckled, making a smile tug on your lips, though you rolled your eyes. “Did you want to talk about something or did you just want to be a smug son of a bitch?” You asked. “Well, both, but I wasn’t planning on being a smug son of a bitch.” He smiled. “I wanted to see if you wanted to grab coffee.” “Like…like a date? Is that legal?” You wondered, making Tom laugh. “I’m a TA, y/n. We’re just two students, it’s not against the law.” He laughed. “We don’t have to-” “No, no. I want to. That sounds lovely.” You smiled, making Tom smile. “Here,” He handed you his phone. “You can put your number in.” You typed in the numbers, texting yourself so you knew who it was, and added a star emoji next to your name, because why not? Tom chuckled when he saw the emoji. “Do you wanna wait until after the midterm?” He asked. “The midterm is next week, Tom.” You giggled. “We can do this weekend.” - Your coffee date was Saturday morning and Tom asked you on a second date before it was finished. Two dates turned into three and soon enough a month went by and Tom asked to make things between the two of you official. “Yeah, of course I want this with you, Tom.” You whispered, the two of you lying in his bed, your fingers tracing shapes on his bare chest. “Just don’t want anyone knowing for a little bit.” “Perfectly fine with me, love.” He sighed, tugging you closer to his chest. “Perfectly fine with me.” The next time you had class, you got jealous. Tom looked exceptionally good that day and was in class to answer questions about themes relating to 1984. You were jealous because the girls in your class were basically undressing Tom with their eyes. Granted they didn’t know he was your boyfriend, you still felt jealous. Tom knew something was wrong when you stayed behind after the students left. The two of you had a date that night and he knew you’d want to do some homework before he picked you up. “What’s up, baby?” He asked as you walked up to the podium. “I didn’t like the way they were looking at you.” You mumbled into his chest. “Who?” “The girls in class. They were looking at you like you’re their boyfriend, but you’re my boyfriend.” You pouted, making Tom chuckle. “I am all yours, love. Don’t want the other girls in the class. Only you.” He assured you, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “All mine?” You asked, looking up at him from his chest. “All yours.”

_______________________________________________________________________

tagging some mutuals: @sunshinehollandd @angelic-holland @spideypeach @terrifictomholland

#tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #tom holland imagine #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fanfic #tom holland fic #tom holland fluff #thnsfw #tom holland oneshot #tom holland au #ta!tom #ta!tom holland

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myriadimagines · 7 years

Text

See You Soon

DC (Arrowverse) One Shot

Pairing: Reader x Nate Heywood

Other Characters: Sara Lance, Ray Palmer, Jax Jackson, Amaya Jiwe

Warnings: mentions of death and alcohol

Request: n/a

Summary: The Legends have arrived in Star City to fix another anachronism. For some reason, Sara is trying to keep Nate in the dark and wants him to stay on the Waverider, and he doesn’t understand why. That is, until he realises what year it is. The year something terrible happened.

Word Count: 2,676

A/N: hi please don’t kill me for writing a one shot while they’re closed. but seeing as my blog is officially 1 year old (whaaaaaat?!), i thought i might commemorate it in some way. and because i love nate and i love torturing myself, i present to you…….. this fic. and spoiler alert i know jax left but at the time that i wrote this hE WAS STILL PART OF THE LEGENDS OK. thank u guys for tolerating my slow ass writing, weird ramblings and all that, i still can’t believe i’ve been writing for a whole year?!

please reblog/leave comments!! and despite this, one shots are still closed!

Your name: submit What is this?

“Where’s our next destination, Captain?” Ray asked as he strolled up to Sara, who was staring at the map of anachronism. He could see a troubled expression on Sara’s face, and he frowned as he asked, “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“Star City, 2015.” Sara pointing at a glowing spot on the map. “It’s a level 8.”

“Surely that’s not the only thing bothering you.” Ray tilted his head, and Sara sighed as she turned around, her arms folded across her chest.

“It’s about Nate.” she finally said, looking over Ray’s shoulder to make sure no one was else was listening. “You know I do background checks for everyone on the team, and… well, something happened to Nate in 2015. He can’t go on the mission with us.”

“Seriously?” Ray asked. “Did he get hurt or something?”

“It’s not like that.” Sara shook her head. “Something didn’t happen to him specifically – it has to do with someone he loves.”

–

Nate could feel his head spinning as the Waverider landed. Despite time travelling so many times, he sometimes still felt the side effects. He looked over at Zari, who looked slightly nauseous, and couldn’t help but chuckle. At least he was doing better than her.

“Alright, what’s the anachronism?” Nate clapped his hands together as he got up from his seat. Sara was already around the console, pulling up a map. Nate looked outside, and noticed the setting look pretty modern – a nice contrast considering they had spent so much time back in the old days. It looked familiar, Nate realised, and he asked, “Wait, Sara, are we where I think we are?”

“Star City.” Sara responded, her tone somewhat wary as she exchanged glances with Ray, who immediately looked concerned, too. “Uh, Nate, I think it’s best if you sit this one out.”

“What?” Nate’s face scrunched up as he turned around. “Why?”

“Jax needs someone to take care of the Waverider.” Sara replied, without missing a beat, and Nate turned to Jax as he looked at Sara in confusion.

“No I don’t-” Jax tried to protest, but quickly stopped mid sentence when Sara glared at him. “I mean, yeah, totally.”

“Gideon, what year are we in?” Nate looked up at the ceiling, putting his hands on his hips. He didn’t know why Sara was preventing him from leaving, but perhaps knowing what time he was in might help.

Before Gideon could respond, Sara interjected, “Gideon, don’t.”

“Come on, Sara.” Nate tossed his hands in the air. “Just tell me what’s going on!”

“Nate, this is for your own good.” Sara pointed at him as the rest of the team awkwardly looked amongst each other. Only Sara and Ray knew what was going on, while the rest of the team were as clueless as Nate. Waving her arms, Sara continued, “Everyone else, let’s get ready to move out.”

Nate groaned in frustration as no one came to his defense, quickly walking away instead. Before Amaya walked out the room, Nate quickly grabbed her arm, hissing, “Hey, Amaya, what is up with Sara?”

“I don’t know, Nate.” Amaya sighed, shaking her head. “I don’t understand it either. Did anything important happen to you in 2015?”

“2015?” Nate’s eyebrows furrowed, before his face paled. Amaya’s expression immediately became concerned as she reached out to squeeze his shoulder.

“Nate?” she gave him a small shake. “What’s wrong?”

“N-nothing.” he stammered. If he told Amaya the truth, he knew she’d also stop him from leaving the ship.

2015. The year the love of his life was killed.

–

Nate never thought he’d experience true love. Sure, it’d be nice, but he thought it was unrealistic. He’d been on a few dates, of course, but it never became anything more than a one night stand.

He met you at a library. He still smiled to himself when he thought about it – how cliché it was, like he was in a movie. You happened to be in the same history section as him, and he noticed you out of the corner of his eye debating between two books. Unable to keep to himself, he recommended a book to you, and when you turned to thank him, Nate was blown away by how beautiful you were. You had such a joyful smile that Nate made him smile too, and he thought your laugh was the most adorable thing he had ever heard.

“Thanks,” you said, waving the book Nate recommended as you put the other one back on the shelf. Nate nodded, at loss for words as you continued, “If it wasn’t for you, I’d probably be stuck here all day deciding.”

“Oh, I’ve definitely done that.” Nate nervously chuckled after he had finally found his voice again. “One time, I had too many books and had to leave at least 10 behind otherwise I’d exceed the limit, but I couldn’t decide which ones to ditch so I kinda just stole them all.”

Your mouth dropped open as Nate began to blush profusely, stammering, “Well, I mean, I didn’t… I didn’t steal them, I returned them, of course-”

“Relax,” you laughed, reaching out to touch his arm. You winked at him, responding, “I won’t tell on you, I promise. You know, I didn’t take you for the rebellious type.”

“I think we’re all a little bit rebellious, don’t you?” Nate grinned, and you smiled back. Awkwardly clearing his throat, Nate stretched his arm out as he said, “I’m Nate, by the way.”

“y/n.” you shook his hand, tucking your hair behind your ears with your other hand.

“That is a beautiful name.” Nate breathed out, more to himself than for you to hear, but you blushed.

“Thank you, Nate.” you smiled. You looked down at your watch, before letting out a sigh. “I’ve actually gotta run and check this out.”

“Oh.” Nate’s shoulders slumped slightly, the disappointment evident in his voice. “Do you, uh, come here often?”

“Well, I actually just moved to Star City.” you confessed, and Nate’s eyes widened.

“I could show you around the city.” Nate blurted before he could stop himself, and your smile widened. “I mean, if you’re cool with it.”

“I’d love that.” you gushed, pulling your phone out of your pocket. “Here, why don’t you tell me your number so I can text you?”

Had he just scored a date with you? No, Nate told himself, it was just casual – but he was so excited nevertheless. He was so excited, in fact, he had almost forgotten what his number was.

–

It was probably the best day of his life, showing you around the city. You had texted Nate the minute you left the library, and the two of you had been texting nonstop until you met up a week later. The two of you had clicked instantly, and there was not one awkward silence between the two of you. The both of you told jokes and talked about anything and everything, as if you had known each other for years.

The two of you had just finished dinner at Nate’s favorite restaurant, and he was driving you back to your apartment. You were singing to a song playing on the radio, and Nate tried his best to keep his eyes on the road, despite wanting to just stare at you. You looked so happy, bobbing your head up and down and waving your arm out the car window.

He finally pulled up at your apartment and parked the car. You turned to face each other as you said, “Thanks for taking me out, Nate, I had a lot of fun.”

“So did I.” Nate grinned. Running his hands through his hair, he added, “We should do this again.”

“Definitely.” you agreed, before suddenly looking nervous yourself. Vaguely gesturing to your apartment complex, you asked, “Do you… do you want to go inside?”

Nate’s eyes widened before he quickly nodded, and you smiled at him as the both of you got out of the car. You reached for Nate’s hand as you led him to the apartment, and fumbled to find the keys in your pocket.

Was this moving too quickly?

Screw that, Nate thought. He wanted to be with you. You were the one for him, he just knew it.

–

“Nate…” Jax shook his head as he caught Nate trying to sneak out of the Waverider. Nate cringed as he slowly turned around to face Jax, who was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. “I can’t let you leave the ship – Sara’s orders.”

“Jax, please.” Nate begged. “There’s something really important I need to do.”

“Look, man,” Jax stepped closer to Nate, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he shrugged. “I don’t know why Sara insists you stay behind, but she’s gotta have a good reason for it. Just trust her, dude, she’s trying to protect you.”

Nate scoffed and shook his head. “Jax, just help me out. I’ll be back before the team returns. And even if I don’t, I’ll take full responsibility. I’ll say I knocked you out!”

“Seriously?” Jax raised his eyebrows, and Nate sighed.

“It was worth a shot.” Nate muttered. “Jax, this is Star City, our home! Think about it, nothing bad is going to happen to me here that I can’t handle.”

Jax pressed his lips together, before finally throwing his hands in the air in defeat. “Promise you’ll take full responsibility?”

“I promise.” Nate nodded, before turning around and running off before Jax could change his mind.

–

“Hey,” Nate stopped a man on the street, who looked up at Nate warily. “What’s the date?”

“December 19th.” the man responded, his eyebrows furrowed.

“Ok, thanks.” Nate patted the man on the shoulder before continuing on his way. He almost felt sick just thinking about what was going to happen.

December 18th, after 2 years of dating, Nate had proposed to you. And you said yes.

As Nate approached the the office building where you worked, he thought about that day. The two of you had gone to the library again to check out some books for a paper you needed to write. Nate had written down a list of books he thought would be helpful, and as you were pulling them off the shelf, you noticed there was one book that looked familiar – the book you had checked out when you and Nate first met.

“Oh my gosh, Nate.” you nudged him excitedly, holding up the book. “Remember this?”

You began to flip through it absentmindedly, before noticing a sticky note at the back of it. Scrawled in a handwriting you immediately recognized as Nate’s, your mouth dropped open as you read it.

Will you marry me?

You turned around to see Nate, already on one knee, open a box with a glittering ring inside. He smiled at you as he asked, “Well, what do you say?”

You laughed, blinking back tears of joy as you responded, “I think I’d be an idiot to say no.”

As Nate slid the ring on your finger and wrapped his arms around your waist to kiss you, he thought about the day he showed you around Star City, and how he thought that was probably the best day of his life.

This was definitely the best day of his life.

–

Nate was about to enter the lobby of the building, when someone cleared their throat behind him.

“Nate, what are you doing?” Sara asked, and Nate whipped around.

“How did you know I’d be here?” Nate groaned, and Sara shrugged.

“I put a tracking device in your jacket.” she responded, and Nate shrugged his jacket off and tossed it at her, which she caught without looking. “I knew you’d figure out what was going on at one point, and I knew you’d come here.”

“I have to save them, Sara.” Nate said, his voice cracking, and Sara sighed. She knew what Nate was going through, and as much as she wanted to let him, she knew the consequences. “y/n’s going to leave any minute now, and-”

“I can’t let you, Nate.” Sara interrupted, and Nate brought his hand to his face. “You don’t know what’ll happen to the timeline if you change this.”

“Sara, in less than an hour the only person I’ve ever loved is going to get on the road to drive home, except they’ll never make it. They’ll get hit by a drunk driver, and they won’t even make it to the hospital.” Nate said desperately, recalling the events almost like it was yesterday. He was waiting in his apartment for you so the two of you could go out for dinner. It was a Wednesday night, and you usually worked late on Wednesdays, so he wasn’t concerned when you didn’t come home at first. Then it reached ten o’clock. Then eleven. Then when it reached midnight, the police showed up at Nate’s doorstep and delivered the worst news of his entire life.

“Nate, calm down.” Sara tried to say, but she could see the tears welling in his eyes as he constantly looked over his shoulder, making sure you hadn’t left.

“All I need to do is to stall y/n for ten minutes.” Nate gestured wildly. “Or tell them to take another route home. I can save them!”

“Nate, what happened, happened.” Sara reached forward and grabbed his arm. “I know you think you can change it, but you can’t mess with history – you of all people should know that.”

“I was going to marry them, Sara.” Nate choked out. “I had just proposed to them yesterday.”

“If you could save y/n and have no consequences, you know I’d let you.” Sara said, her voice low. “I know it’s hard, Nate. If I had the opportunity to save Laurel, I’d do it in a heartbeat. I miss my sister everyday, but there’s nothing I can do to bring her back. You know we can’t mess with time.”

Nate finally bowed his head, knowing Sara was right. He hated himself for acknowledging the consequences, but he had to. He wished he didn’t care, and that he had the willpower to save you anyway, no matter what would happen to the timeline.

But he knew if you were in the same position, you would do the right thing.

“Nate!”

Nate froze upon hearing your voice, and Sara looked over Nate’s shoulder and saw you approach. She had never actually met you, only read about you while researching Nate, but seeing you in person seemed to make the situation feel so much more real. You looked so innocent, and that was what struck Sara the hardest – why was it always the innocent who were hurt?

Sara looked back at Nate, who looked paralysed. She simply gave Nate a sad smile and nodded slightly, before turning around to leave the two of you in private. Nate could physically feel his heart breaking in two as he turned around, looking at you for what felt like the very first and the last time. You looked just as beautiful as he remembered you, still smiling that gorgeous smile. You had your car keys in your hand, and you walked up to him.

“What are you doing here?” you laughed, wrapping your arms around his neck as Nate instinctively wrapped his arms around your waist. “I was just about to go home.”

Nate struggled to respond, and your smile faded. You reached out to touch Nate’s face as you asked, “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“I… I just… I need to do something important.” he finally said, before simply grabbing your face in his hands and kissing you. Nate pulled away, pressing his forehead against yours as he caressed your cheek. “I love you, y/n.”

“I love you too, Nate.” you smiled at him, brushing your thumb against his cheek. “Don’t take too long, okay? I’ll see you later tonight, then.”

Nate screwed his eyes shut, not wanting to cry. He finally opened his eyes, and croaked out, “I’ll see you soon.”

tags: @jedisimonlewis

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