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#And I was the group photographer so my friends had no clue what they were doing with my camera

pedropascalunofficial · 9 months

Text

STORY TIME

Why did Pedro Pascal go quiet on socials?

Well, let's hazard a guess. Maybe he saw what his shitty "fans" were getting up to.

If I've left anything out, please dm me. And if you'd like to threaten me, my receipts are all in order🖕

What have Pedro Pascal's shitty "fans" done in this fandom?

Stalked him and used it for clout in order to gather more information. (Ms * and Ms Peacock)

Tracked his and his friends' activity. The person got blocked by the friend and used the news for clout. Mega lols all round on that one, not🙄. It gave them something to talk about on their trip, I guess🤷‍♀️ They were quiet after, though, right?! (Ms Green)

Created a private group chat and used it to gather information on his whereabouts. (Ms Peacock)

Moved in order to be closer to his house. When he mentioned he moved, they openly enquired about moving to a neighbourhood close to his new place. (Ms Wrestlemania)

Supported a friends project and made themselves the biggest donor yet publicly complained about their financial situation. Weird, right?! The friend was going through a really tough time. The fans used the access they gained to the friend to manipulate the friend into giving them access to him. The friend closed their project. (Ms Wrestlemania)

Made professional moves in order to work with another one of his friends in order to gain access to him. (Little Miss 23andme)

Bullied and harassed another fan for having limited access to him. They then doxxed the victims' family members' funeral. When they were called out and tried to defend themselves, they were caught owning an account that had supported the harassing messages. (Ms Wrestlemania and HideandSeek)

Stole photos from independent photographers and shared as their own, which he then shared so the photographer got paid. (Col Mustard)

Shared a stolen photo of him and another actor so he was forced to share his own so he owned the narrative. (Ms Peacock)

Had multiple genuine fan accounts deleted and suspended out of hate and jealousy. (Ms * and Encarni)

Sent d**th threats to other fan accounts. (I'll just pretend not to know who did this because it's under federal investigation💚)

That would definitely put me off going online. No wonder he went quiet.

I'd like to add that I was a total scumbag too once. Checked his personal info, thinking it was ok to do so out of interest. I shared bits and pieces because I didn't realise the ripple effect. Then I realised his info was being traded for people's personal gain. People were being manipulated into providing more and more. People were being ripped off for someone selling pics without a licence (you know who). I stopped. I made amends. I know I made a difference, so thank you to everyone who has helped right the wrongs.

Thank you to the people who helped provide tips.

Thank you to the people who had their lives affected but still stuck around to keep the good in the fandom.

Thank you to the people who listened.

Thank you to the people who took action when required.

Thank you to Pedro💜

And a giant FUCK YOU to the ppl who are still doing that shit and negatively affecting people's lives, including Pedro's and his friends' and family's.

Why did Pedro Pascal go quiet on socials?

Canada

Deuxmoi

Clue

The Meandering Response

The Counter Perspective

The Old Ladies

Buying Followers Pt1

The Fandom Stain Pt2

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fandom #fandom #storytime #pedro pascal stalker #little miss 23andme #ms Wrestlemania #col mustard #mrs green #ms peacock #story time #stalker reddit #crazy fans #fandom bullshit #deuxmoi #pedro pascal deuxmoi #stalker

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pensat-i-fet · 1 year

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A jealous overreaction (Ansu Fati x Reader)

**I got a little request for some jealous Ansu and even though he’s got the sweetest face in the world and writing angst for him almost felt wrong 😅, I managed to get this done. Hope you like it ☺️❤️**

Word count: 2440

Masterlist

Wattpad

“Can we do something fun tomorrow after training?”

“No, sorry. I have to work”.

“Oh, ok”. You could hear your boyfriend’s disappointment in his voice. “Are you doing anything exciting?”

“I’ll just be going to an event. Your teammate is going to be there too, actually”.

“Which teammate?”, said Ansu, curious about you working with someone from his team.

“Pedro”.

“He didn’t tell me about working with you”.

You laughed. “He wouldn’t know about me being there. It’s just for a phone brand. Boring but it’ll pay well”.

Working as a model also meant attending these types of events where you just had to be standing for hours looking pretty while the event's star got all the attention. But at least this time you knew that star. Even if you and Ansu were keeping your relationship a secret, for now, you knew his friends.

So the next day you went to the location for the event. Since you were there a bit early, it was mostly empty, except for a few journalists setting their cameras.

Being there early meant more time for hair and make-up and less stress. So you ended up being the first model that was done getting ready and could move to grab something to drink.

“Hey, what are you doing here?”

“Hi Pedri, I’ll be working here today. Didn’t Ansu tell you?”

“No, but I had to leave before everyone else to get here. I didn’t really have time to talk to anyone. But I’m really happy to see a familiar face”.

You smiled at him, not noticing the cameras already taking photos of his every move.

When Pedri was asked whether he needed someone to help him during the event, he picked you. Knowing the afternoon would be less boring if he had a friend he could chat with. That also made the event more fun for you and the three hours you were there flew by.

“I could drive you home”, offered Pedri when you mentioned calling a taxi.

“You don’t need to bother”.

“Come on, you’re my friend’s girl. It’s the least I can do”.

Little did you know there were photographers documenting you getting into his car and that the media was going to spin that information into something that wasn’t true.

Ansu was just bored at home trying to find something to watch on tv when he noticed all the notifications on the team’s group chat. Maybe they were talking about something fun that could stop him from falling asleep at 9 pm.

But it wasn’t something fun they talked about. It was something that made him mad.

“Wait! What do you mean about the press reporting that?”, he wrote.

“It’s so stupid”, wrote Pedri. “I just talked to your girlfriend because I know her. And I wasn’t going to let her go home alone if I could drive there. But the stupid press now writes about us being together”.

Your boyfriend closed his eyes to take some deep breaths and relax. What his friend was saying made sense. It was just his jealousy making him overreact.

“Ansu, I can see you’re online. Are you ok?”

“Yes. Yes of course”.

“I mean”, continued Pedri. “If it was anyone else I wouldn’t care, but the fact that it’s your girlfriend they’re talking about makes me really mad”.

“It’s fine. Don’t worry”.

But it wasn’t fine. And even though he lied to them saying he was going to bed early because he was tired, he spent the whole night trying to rest. And he also didn’t send you a goodnight text like he did every night.

“My mum wants you to come to dinner tomorrow. Are you free?”

“Huh?”

That had been the mood the whole afternoon. Your boyfriend just didn’t seem to be there with you but on another planet.

“What’s wrong with you today? It’s like you aren’t listening to me”, you said, sitting up on the sofa and staring at his face, trying to find clues as to what was going through his head.

“Just tired”.

“Have I done something wrong?”

Your question made him sigh. Because you hadn’t and neither had Pedri, but he had also ignored him most of the time at training.

“I’m…I’m jealous”.

“Of who?”

“Pedri”.

He usually found the way you scrunched your face when you were confused adorable, but now he felt stupid. “Why would you be?”

“The event yesterday. The press has been writing about you two and I know nothing happened but…I don’t like reading those things”.

“Write about what…right, just the fact that I’m a woman and I was talking to him, right?”

You rolled your eyes and got up to get yourself something to drink.

“I trust you. You know that”.

“But you’re still jealous? How does that work?”

“I don’t know”, he said, hugging you from behind to try and stop your nervous walking. “I’m sorry I am this way. I can’t help it”.

You shook your head because you got it. It wasn’t nice for you to see all the girls interested in him either. But you trusted him and it wasn’t his fault that they liked him.

“I guess I get it now”.

“Get what?”

“I got a call this morning from the brand that organized the event. They want me to do a campaign for them”.

“That’s great!”, he said, excited. He knew campaigns were a big thing.

“With Pedri. So they don’t care about me as a model. They just want to do a campaign with the both of us so the press reports on it. I feel so stupid”.

You covered your face with your hands, trying not to cry. One of the main reasons why you hadn’t made your relationship public was to avoid this. You wanted to be hired for jobs because of your talent, not because of dating a famous guy.

Ansu turned you so you were facing him and took your hands from your face so he could hold you with his.

“Do the campaign”.

“What? No way! Not only do they want me just because of those rumours but it’ll make everything worse for you”.

“Do it. I’ll be fine. And if they want to use you, you used them back getting their money. Just make sure they pay extra, knowing why this is happening”.

A part of you was happy about him being so mature and putting his jealousy to the side to think about your career. But you still felt hurt about the whole situation.

“I’ll think about it”.

And you thought about it…and decided to do it. Ansu was right. And he had promised to not get jealous so it was all going to be fine.

You got to the set and Pedri was already there, so you waved at him but he was too busy on his phone.

“Boo!”

He jumped on his seat and almost drop his phone. “Don’t do that!”

“I couldn’t help it”.

He shook his head and moved the chair next to his so you could sit.

“How’s your boyfriend?”

“Hopefully dealing with his jealousy well”.

Pedri raised an eyebrow at that. “Why?”

“He didn’t tell you?”. When he shook his head you continued. “He was jealous when the press reported that there was something between us”.

“I would never try to steal my friend’s girl. Why didn’t he say anything to me?”

“He felt stupid feeling like that”.

“It was stupid”.

You both laughed and then the hair and make-up people arrived to get you ready for the shoot.

You were more used to being the main model in a shoot, not the accessory for the male model but…this was a different campaign. But still a pretty simple one. I mean, you were advertising a phone.

When you were done with the photographs, the ad director gave you a quick explanation of what the tv ad should look like. It was really hard for you to not roll your eyes when he explained how close to Pedri you needed to be the whole time. They were really playing the “they might be dating” card.

But the shoot went well. You got it done in a couple of tries and once you heard the words “it’s a wrap!”, you took your very high and painful heels off and picked up your things so you could leave. Pedri offered to drive you home again, but this time he drove you to your boyfriend’s house. And thankfully, there were no paparazzi around to make a big deal out of a friendly gesture this time.

“Hi”, said your boyfriend when he opened the door and saw it was you.

“Your friend is there”, you told him, pointing at the car.

Pedri waved at you both and you got inside the house, ready for a relaxing evening together.

It didn’t take long for the campaign to be released. And the aftermath was way worse than you had imagined.

“There is a new article every hour. What’s going on?”, you asked your manager, trying not to scream at the phone.

“My guess is the brand paid for all those articles”.

“Why did I do this?”

“Look at the check again. It’ll make you feel better”.

But no amount of money was going to make you feel better if this ruined your relationship with Ansu. He promised to not be jealous but…this was too much.

Too much for you and too much for him. You didn’t get a lot of mentions in the press, but he liked to have notifications on for anything that mentioned you. He was always the first one to congratulate you on how great your new campaigns or editorials were. Actually, he found out they had been published even before you did. He just wanted to be supportive of your career, knowing how much it meant to you. But now…now he wanted to throw the phone to the floor so it would smash.

“Ignore all that crap”, said Pedri.

“Easy for you to say”.

“Easy? Do you think I like people thinking I’m dating your girlfriend? Even if you haven’t made it public. It makes me sick”.

“I bet, yeah…”.

Ansu got up to leave. He couldn’t face his friend right now.

“What do you mean by that?”

“Well, I bet reading about people thinking you’re sleeping with a gorgeous model is a horrible feeling. I feel so bad for you”.

“I don’t care about that!”

“Right”, said your boyfriend, noticing his patience running out. “I don’t even know what to believe anymore”.

“You can’t be serious, bro. How can you be jealous because of this? You know I’ll never do that. And neither would she”.

He was getting a headache from this conversation and the overthinking he was doing.

“Ansu, be a dick to me all you want. But don’t do this to her”.

But he wasn’t listening anymore.

You got to Ansu’s house feeling like a ball of nerves. He had been answering your texts but it felt…off. And then Pedri told you what happened after training.

A part of you wanted to go home but you had to face this situation now. Waiting was only going to make it worse.

“Hi”.

His sad face made you feel terrible. You expected him to be angry but not like this. On the way there you had been wondering how to approach this. But his eyes told you the answer was to hug him.

“I know I shouldn’t feel like this but I can’t stop it”.

“I get it. Let’s go sit down so we can talk”.

At the mention of talking, he tensed. Were you going to break up with him? Jealousy was the reason why a lot of couples had to end their relationship.

“Be honest with me, my love. Why are you jealous? If it was someone else, I could understand it. But you know Pedri is your friend and will never do that to you. Even if you didn’t trust me…you have to trust him”.

“I trust you”, he whispered and you took his hand so you could hold it.

“Then what is it?”

He hadn’t allowed himself to think about it before. It was easy to just blame it on being jealous. But there was a reason for his behaviour.

“Why don’t you want people to know about us?”

“You know the reason. I want to wait until my career is more successful so I can feel like I got this on my own, not because of you. We’ve talked about it…”.

“But you accepted this job”.

He was confusing you even more now. “You insisted I did”.

“But you knew this was going to happen”.

“And so did you. Ansu…I…”.

You got up to pace around the sofa because you didn’t understand what exactly he was accusing you of at that moment.

“Stop. Come here, please”.

Even though it took a lot of effort, you sat down again. But didn’t want to hold his hand for the time being.

“First, I was hurt because the rumours were with another player. And I felt like if we made our relationship public, people will still mention you and Pedri had a thing before we got together. And that would probably make people send abuse to you and…it worried me”.

“That I can understand”, you said. “But what was the issue now?”

“I guess it bothered me that even if you knew rumours were going to be created, you still took the job. Like you didn’t mind people speculating about you and Pedri but you’re extra careful when it comes to me”.

You hadn’t even thought about any of those issues but…it made sense that he reacted to the situation if he felt that way. Maybe it was a bit of an overreaction still but it made some sense. At least.

“Do you think I’m embarrassed by you or something?”

He tried to look away but you caught his chin before he could do it.

“I’m not. I love you and I love what we have. I’m sorry if my wanting to keep this private hurt you in any way but that was never my intention”.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you with my jealousy either…”.

“So we settle it at we’re both dumb?”, you asked, laughing. And when you noticed a little smile on his face, your chest tightened.

“What do I need to do to prove to you how proud I am of our relationship?”

He looked at you hoping this would finally be the time when you said yes.

“Can we make our relationship public?”

“We can”.

#ansu fati #ansu fati imagine #ansu fati one shot #ansu fati angst #ansu fati fluff #footballer imagine #footballer one shot #footballer angst #footballer fluff

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thislovintime · 2 years

Photo

Peter Tork in the studio with Lowell George, Reine Stewart, Judy Mayhan, and others; photos by Nurit Wilde.

“Shortly after the [Factory and] Fraternity [of Man] party ended, [Lowell George] took on a job for Peter Tork of Monkees. Tork quit the group early in 1969 [ed. note: actually late 1968], was doing some teaching, formed a production company [ed. note: Breakthrough Influence Company (BRINCO)], and managed a folk singer, Judy Mayhan. One of his students was a cousin of Lowell’s, and Peter gave him a call, inviting him to help with the music for a demo for Atlantic Records. Mayhan got the deal, [but] Tork was soon out of the picture.” - Ben Fong-Torres, Willin': The Story of Little Feat (2013)

“I had a group called Release, which I couldn’t keep together because I didn’t know enough about management. [We recorded] just a few basement tapes. Actually they were attic tapes.” - Peter Tork, Goldmine, May 1982

“Tork did form a group after The Monkees, named Release, but none of the band’s records efforts managed to escape Tork’s hillside mansion practice room. ‘We recorded some demos,’ Peter says, ‘but I think they’re lost. It was just a garage band, no particular skill or charm. I also did a demo for Atlantic Records. Ahmet Ertegun gave me a session to see how I would do, but it wasn’t good enough.’” - Head 1994 liner notes

“Briefly last year I considered putting together a RELEASE forty years later retrospective article; it never happened, and I only got as far as speaking with Reine Stewart on the phone (I had also spoken with RELEASE 'fourth' member Judy Mayhan in 2002). According to Stewart, RELEASE were supposed to go to Muscle Shoals as the backing band for Judy Mayhan's Atlantic Records solo album (a record deal brokered by Peter Tork). I can't remember who she told me had kaiboshed this plan, possibly Ahmet Ertegun, whom she described as a longtime friend. Anyways, she expressed this with regret -- said the album would have been much better with her, Tork and Riley Wildflower backing her up (the album is still worthy of a listen -- I have a copy somewhere: Judy Mayhan Moments)...She also told me that Riley Wildflower died many years ago, so a full RELEASE reunion is not a possibility. Tork had denied the existence of RELEASE demo tapes as early as a 1982 interview in Goldmine; he had said that there had been ‘attic tapes,’ I recall, but when I asked Reine about this, she said they didn't use the attic but the main room in the house. She had planned to speak with Peter about these tapes' whereabouts...” - "djbh35," "The Peter Tork 1969/1970 Thread," Steve Hoffman Music Forums, July 19, 2010

More about Release here.

"These pictures are not from my sessions with Atlantic, for I recorded most of it in Mussel [sic] Shoals, Alabama...Rather they are pictures from sessions that Peter produced himself BEFORE I got that opportunity...and it was Peter that made that opportunity possible to begin with...He was a very important person in my life and did his best to guide me...Nurit Wilde is the photographer and sent me these originally. The reason I shared this [first] pic with you all is that Lowell George was one of the many musicians that were on these experimental sessions and even had a hand at the engineering hat in my memory, while playing many other instruments as well..tabla, sitar, and flute along with guitar and vocals...Peter told me many years ago that he had no clue as to what happened to all those recordings." - Judy Mayhan, via Forrest George on Facebook, February 21, 2019

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deobi-scenes · 2 years

Text

christmassy — lee j.y.

synopsis | prom season only means one thing - promposals. One thing that y/n hates the most. What happens if the hottest guy in school asks her out for prom? Will she say yes?

theme | fluff

word count | —

note | It’s a slow but steady journey. Thank you for all the love!

Hugs and Kisses, always.

———

y/n’s POV

“ you would not believe who Younghoon asked to be his prom date!” a cheerful Minhee said rushing towards my desk.

“uh… should I care?” I asked her.

“come on y/n, it’s prom season! Don’t you feel bubbly and giggly inside?”

“ prom isn’t my thing… and to add, this year’s theme is bleh.” I said sticking my tongue out

the most popular clique in school, dubbed as The Boyz somehow managed to persuade the academic committee to make this year’s prom theme, ‘Christmassy.’ I don’t exactly know what to expect but just hearing the word doesn’t excite me at all.

Ever since the last week, all sorts of gimmicks and promposals were done by everyone.

Of course, the boyz stepped it up a notch by creating the cringiest promposals in the history of promposals. From Haknyeon’s ‘It would be lit with U.’ sign that was actually on fire to Jacob’s ‘I’m dying to go christmassy with you’ stint on the school parking lot where he pretended to be a dead person.

“hey, it’s made by The Boyz. Everything they do is hot.” she said suddenly twirling her hair and looked at the opposite direction from mine.

‘Lee Juyeon.’

The person entering the room was probably one of the most popular out of the group and one third of the so-called Bermuda Line; it was a term the fangirls use to describe how handsome they are.

Juyeon sat on the desk in front of me. Despite his good looks, the boy was practically blind. It was a miracle that he was team captain of the football team.

“Juyeon-ssi, have you ever thought of the person you’ll ask out yet?” Minhee asked Juyeon shamelessly.

“hmmm… I have one person in mind actually.” he said looking at me.

It was a normal thing for Juyeon to make those remarks at me because he knew that I was unfazed of his and his friends status in school.

“I hope she’ll say yes.” he commented before our homeroom teacher, Ms. Han entered the room.

Classes went on as usual. The bell signaling the time for lunch rang. Once we were on our way to the cafeteria, Minhee and I couldn’t help but notice the growing crowd.

“what is happening?” I asked confused as I got my food

“It looks like Sangyeon is making his promposal to Da jeong.” Minhee whispered.

When I was near the crowd, I saw Sangyeon holding a box of pizza that had the words ‘ I know this is cheesy but…’

“this is too cheesy.” I said before making my way towards a table farthest from where the crowd was. Minhee on the other hand joined the crowd to cheer on whatever was happening.

I was eating casually when someone sat in front of me. Lee Juyeon

“uh… can I help you with something?” I asked confused

“are you going to watch the game later?”

“yeah? I’m the school photographer so I should be there I guess?” I said looking at him weirdly.

“ okay then. See you later.” he said before leaving.

Moments later, Minhee sat on where Juyeon previously sat and looked at me dubiously.

“what?”

“so… what was that all about?” she asked in a teasing tone

“nothing. He just asked if I’ll be watching the game later.” I said focusing on my meal.

“ maybe he’ll ask you out.” Minhee blurted which almost made me choke

“ me? that’s impossible.”

“you never know y/n. You know Juyeon. He’s unpredictable.”

———

Juyeon’s POV

Everyone in the group kept teasing Sangyeon hyung for his literal cheesy promposal.

“at least I was man enough to ask a girl I like out.” he protested looking at me

I just smiled at him and smacked my lips.

“you never know. Juyeon hyung is the master of grand surprises.” Eric commented in defense

“you do have a plan in mind don’t you?” Hyunjae hyung suddenly said looking at me. All eyes and ears were on me.

“uh..” I started but honestly I had no clue how to ask her.

“he doesn’t. He’s doomed.” Chanhee said facepalming himself.

“you better think of one fast before someone else asks y/n noona out.” Sunwoo commented swinging his arm on my shoulder.

‘how can I ask y/n out?’

———

y/n’s POV

“ y/n! I’m so glad you’re here! I’m sorry but Kang Tae is sick and I have no one else covering the next half of the game. Do you think you can cover until the end?” Eun Byul, my Senior asked rushing over the sidelines.

Tonight was the biggest football game of the year. It was the very first time that our school got into the finals and is inches away from being champions.

“of course unnie. No worries.” I said taking some pictures from the game.

I was running all over the field trying to get the best shots of the team as possible.

“ and… touchdown! This years champion goes to TBZ Academy!” The announcer cheered

Even I was cheering because I was happy for the team.

“We won!” Eun Byeol unnie shouted from where she was. I gave her a thumbs up and continued taking pics.

The team led by Juyeon threw him on the air and cheered.

Moments later, Juyeon was put on the ground and was given a mic by Minsoo.

The next thing I knew, there was a promposal set up.

‘Do I have to cover this.’ I asked myself mentally taking photos of the goal that had “YES.” written on it and back at Juyeon who was now holding a sign that read, “Will you be my sunshine?”

He sure knew how to draw the attention of the crowd. The crowd cheered at squealed.

“who is that for Juyeon?”

“ I hope he asks me out.”

“please let it be me.”

Those words kept echoing in my head as I tried my best to take more photos.

The crowd went silent after Juyeon shushed them and said,

“y/n.”

I look at him wide eyed. It was a good think I had a camera strap because if I didn’t thousands of dollars worth of equipment will be destroyed

Unable to move I just looked at him. He knelt on the ground and asked,

“ Will you be my sunshine?”

Everyone squealed and said yes. He kept pointing at the yes sign that was on the goal post.

Everyone wanted me to say yes but all I could blurt out was,

“ I’m sorry.”

———

y/n’s POV

The next few days in school was torture. I was being blamed for rejecting one of the hottest guys in school and apparently humiliating him.

Minhee wasn’t much of a help either because she kept on pestering why I said those words.

“ gee y/n. Thanks to you, Juyeon won’t be attending prom.” Dal Mi one of his fangirls said to me catching me off guard

I was pissed of what was happening. I can’t believe people were getting mad at me for nothing. I was humiliated too but of course, Juyeon had the upperhand at everything.

As soon as classes were dismissed, l went over to where The Boyz usually hang out. Their clubroom.

“where’s Juyeon.” I said barging in not minding who was inside the room.

“ Hey, y/n. Juyeon’s in there.” Kevin said pointing over to a door which had the sign ‘meeting room.’

“Can I… please go in?” I asked finally realizing I had to calm my nerves down.

“sure, be our guest.” Changmin commented

I smiled at him and gently twisted the knob which slowly revealed Juyeon who was sitting in front of a computer. Once he saw me he removed his earphone and looked at me soullessly

“Juyeon, what is this about you not going to prom?” I said standing in front of him

“ I just don’t feel like it.”

“ Juyeon if this is about the promposal the other day then I’m sorry…I got nervous. You know you can ask anyone out. Everyone would die just to be your date so why on all people, choose someone like me?” I said almost shouting

“ am I not allowed to choose who I want to go out with?! You’re the one who humiliated me in front of all those people.” he said standing up

we were inches away from each other.His soulless eyes were replaced by an intense gaze

“ I’m sorry if you felt humiliated but it was all your fault! You held me at gunpoint. What was I suppose to do? Didn’t I make myself clear with grand surprises and gestures?!” I said making him remember the last time he saw me rejecting a guy who gave me 143 roses for white day.

He was quiet for a while but then he said

“I don’t know why you would reject me.” he said which made me fume into anger. I turned around and held the door knob.

“For the last time. I did not reject you. I just said sorry, I don’t see how that translates to a yes or no. You weren’t asking me, you were impressing the crowd…You know what Ju, if you just asked me personally without the ‘Mighty Juyeon’ gesture, I would’ve said yes.” I said looking at him for the last time and went outside.

There I saw The Boyz who were trying their best not to look as if they eavesdrop in our onversation.

I bowed at them and went outside.

———

Juyeon’s POV

After hearing the door slam shut, I went outside and saw 10 pairs of eyes intently looking at me.

“ Hyung, y/n has a point.” Haknyeon said patting my shoulder making the others nod in agreement

“more than anyone else, you should know y/n by heart. You’ve known and loved her since middle school.” Sangyeon hyung commented

“ but… what can I do, it’s too late.” I said sitting beside Sunwoo who handed me a drink.

“it’s never too late to fix things.” Jacob hyung added.

———

y/n’s POV

Tonight was the day of the prom. We had no classes in order for the students to prepare for the said event.

I didn’t have any motivation to go but since Kang Tae was MIA for a few weeks now, nobody else was available to cover the event.

“ this is the only other dress I could find.” Minhee said handing me over a black satin dress that had buttons on it.

“Thank you for this.” I said before rushing into the bathroom to change.

“Does…it look okay?” I said eventually coming out from the bathroom

“you look hot. I’m sure Juyeon would be amazed.” She said which made me look at her weirdly

“Juyeon’s not attending remember.”

she just shrugged before doing my make up. She was supposed to do my hair but because Eun Byeol unnie kept on calling me, I hurried and made my way to school.

“sorry I’m late.” I said stepping inside the gymnasium.

It was pretty. The lights and sounds complemented everything.

“ y/n! Finally you’re here! I’m sorry for calling you so early but we need help with the preparations. You are the only person I could think of.” Eun Byeol unnie said rushing over to where I was.

“ no worries unnie. So, what do you need me to do?” I asked her

“The Boyz are making some final touchups. I just need you to help set up the photobooth outside. The camera isn’t working.” she said frantically before rushjng to where Kevin was.

I nodded my head and went to the photobooth. There, I saw the person who I least expected to see.

Lee Juyeon.

He was wearing a black suit and had his hair up which I found strangely attractive.

He was too absorbed trying to figure out something on his laptop.

I went over to him and cleared my throat.

“do you mind if I check?” I said standing beside him. I configured his laptop and connected it to the camera for the photobooth.

His gaze on me made me self conscious. I didn’t know why but it was the first time I felt this way around him. To mention, my heartbeat was quicker by the minute I stood next to him.

Finally taking a deep breath, I looked him and waited for him to speak.

“y/n, you… look amazing.”

I tried my best not to blush at his comment but I knew that even my makeup cannot hide the fact that his words made my cheeks red.

“thanks, you look handsome as well.” I said smiling at him

it was an awkward silence between us.

“y/n-”

“Ju,-”

we both laughed at our situation and smiled at each other.

“ladies first.”

“okay then. So… Ju, I’m sorry for last time. I’m sorry for shouting at you and making you feel bad. I’m so glad you’re here.

“it’s okay y/n. I’m sorry too for putting you in that situation. It’s a little weird but thank you for shaking up some senses in me. I hope you enjoy tonight.” he said turning around.

but before he could walk away, I held his hand which made him turn around again.

“I… haven’t given you a proper answer yet.”

my hands were getting clammy and my breath hitched as I looked at Juyeon.

“ it’s fine y/n, I get it. You don’t have to reject me-”

“ will you please listen to me?” I sighed in frustration.

He closed his mouth and looked at me.

The next words that came outside my mouth were probably the cringiest words I would ever say in real life.

“ Yes, Ju… I will be your sunshine.”

#eric #hyunjae #jacob #ju haknyeon #juyeon #new #kevin #q #sangyeon #sunwoo #younghoon #tbz fanfic #tbz #tbz imagines #the boyz #the boyz imagines

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madchild-dennis · 1 year

Text

ANYONE WANTS TO QUESTION ME

TAKE THAT SHIT SOMEWHERE ELSE.

I've been doing this shit from I was 5/6 FUCKING YEARS OLD

NO, My parents, best friend and so much more had NO FUCKING CLUE. I DIDN'T KNOW either.

Plus IF you ever thought of my parents as knowing ANYTHING DO NOT. MY PARENTS DIDN'T SIT AND TRY TO GET TO KNOW ME THAT WAS MY FUCKING BROTHER AND SISTER OR AS A GROUP THING NOT A ONE & ONE shit. In fact, let me correct myself my mother did something sometimes. BUT THAT'S IT. I was the PINING ONE. When I really think about it. I didn't do the birthday pedicures just because I had no money for a present, I think I thought I'd garner favour or it was something I could say I did with my mother. but it wasn't with my mother, it was for her. If I am honest to myself I may have taken it from my sister who ACTUALLY was trained in that stuff (I think I have photographic memory from a VERY young age and didn't realize; will talk on it another time or in the book). Then took what I saw her did and did it for my mother as she would asked and complain. I offered as I always did when everyone else said no. I guess from a young age trying to garner favour/work to get love; something my siblings didn't have to do good/kind or bad/mean/selfish they were. Something I wasn't GRANTED FREELY, as it should. Something I seem to had to work for until it didn't. Till I DIDN'T FUCKING CARE cause "life was unfair" and as my sister said and I learned to adapt; "such is life". I'll leave all that talk for the book I already started.

I was 6 when I discovered the SPIRITUAL WORLD but I thought it was a signal you send to people. I thought it was like wifi. Then I dumbed it down to pheromones, when I found something that felt like it explained what I was experiencing at 5 years old. Now that I'm 26 turning 27. I am learning, being aware and understanding what it was. It was learning that you can be in the spirit. Hear and feel people calling tlaking and dwelling in the spirit. I've been around so many demons, been attacked by demons, and more. I'm almost so versed in the spiritual world that I can choose to be in it or not.

LIKE I NOW CHOOSE TO STOP having conversations with the ASSHOLE in the SPIRIT. Something he choose ONLY to do, then act like he doesn't or doesn't care at all. If he has something to say to me, he takes it to the physical world. I HAVE HAD IT WITH HIS FUCKING LIES.

As I was saying;

I have been the QUEEN-in-training.

From my mother ALWAYS told me (unknowing letting the spirit lead) to sit straight, don't slouch, or more. Then after I watching Halle Berry's Catwoman as child, choosing to practice walking in a straight line or on a curb without falling. Which took the walk I inherited from my father into the masterful walk I am known for.

Plus I was ALREADY a prophet, but without the right guidance/understanding.

I was unknowingly spoken to by God. Granted visions; I had a vision of being Miss World, walking across a stage from I was between the age of 8-10 years old. I didn't realize and thought it was my imagination. I just can't forget, I saw myself on a stage walking with a crown. Then I was around 10-12 when I saw a picture of my mother who was a young adult about my age now. I literally said out loud "that picture looked like me as an adult". How does a child knows what she looks like as an adult, unless she saw a vision of such or a picture of themself as an adult. I never understood what people say I look like my mother as a child. But that one picture looked like me as an adult at the age I saw it. I don't remember where the picture is. As I was saying I was unknowingly spoken to by God, Granted vision, I was learning about being spiritual and being in the spirit, LONG before I was LOUD and vocal about it. MAYBE I AM a fucking Angel as I was told by someone. Or simply crafted by God. Making sure every Ancester was specially crafted and met, formed or produced a combination to make sure I was born. FOR THIS VERY MOMENT

SO I AIN'T GOING ANYWHERE

🙄 🙄 🙄

ACCORDING TO GOD.

youtube

#Youtube

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crypt-id · 2 years

Text

Greetings. My name is Monte and my pronouns are they/them. The purpose of this blog is to examine and share my thoughts on Simon Alkenmayer’s “experiment” and the various pieces of drama that surround the character of Simon.

I used to be one of the “gentle readers” and I have become increasingly suspicious that there is more to this story than what the players claim. The release of the second “survey” has convinced me I am right.

I believe there is only one person behind the accounts of @simonalkenmayer, The Fool (aka @simonalkenmayerisdead ) and quite possibly also the rest of the blogs devoted to Simon Alkenmayer and their activity.

Think about it. The original purpose of the “experiment”, before Simon started going on about group dynamics and narcissism, was to examine what people will believe and why. In other words, how critically we, the public, think about information. How does what we already believe affect what we are prepared to believe? What sources do we find reliable? Do we believe facts, or emotive language?

So what do you do? First you create a character that will capture people’s attention. Maybe someone unusual, a bit edgy, a bit dangerous. Who is also older and more knowledgeable than everyone and perfectly positioned to be The Authority Figure. This character builds a presence and a following… Maybe by interacting with viral posts. Making sure he is visible. Says the odd controversial thing. And, crucially, they make sure to repeat that you will believe what they claim, if you are intelligent enough and can think critically.

After this character has matured a bit and become established, you introduce The Antagonist. This would be Simonalkenmayerisdead’s function. The Antagonist doesn’t need to make an effort to create an online presence because he can piggyback on the “fame” of The Authority Figure. His role is to create drama, introduce emotion and to push people to choose a side. Once you have committed to supporting one or the other, you become much more likely to believe what they say and to suppress and doubts and critical thinking. (At least that would have been my hypothesis.)

This explains everything.

Why Simon and The Fool keep mentioning each other and essentially drive readers to each other’s blog.

*Simon could have ignored The Fool but instead they keep mentioning him and making sure all the gentle readers know about him. Why would they do that if The Fool didn’t serve their purpose?

*Unlike pretty much all of the other “critical blogs”, Simonalkenmayerisdead doesn’t seem to have just a few objections to Simon. He moves from “issue” to “issue” and will criticize anything and everything, which makes sure that at any given time he will create at least some outrage. The Fool will also often appear petty, criticizing innocuous things such as recipes, drawings etc. This is a perfect technique to put people in a defensive position, and make Simon look like a victim. If you think about it, this behavior serves Simon much more than it serves The Fool. Why would he do that unless…. they actually share the same goal?

*The doxing incident. Simon has not doxed any of their former friends who have turned against them, even though those were people who supposedly had NDAs and Simon would have had their names and addresses, photos will have been shared in the Discord server, etc. But for some reason… they supposedly spent hours going through The Fool’s Twitter to find the ONLY PHOTOGRAPH in existence and shared that. And The Fool conveniently confirmed that it was him, when it would have been very easy (and make much more sense) to ignore it or deny it. As I see it, the only reason to do that is that the drama serves your purpose. (And if, say, you don’t need to spend hours looking for that photograph because you already have it.)

But the cincher is this question in the survey which ties everything together.

If you pay close attention, both accounts have been dropping clues about their real purpose for a while now. Maybe that’s another way to determine if the readers believe the obvious, stated “facts” or are able to read between the lines. And, I’m not sure yet, but I believe the rest of the critical blogs might also have a role to play in the “experiment”.

I will share more thoughts about these (and post my “evidence”) in follow up posts.

#simon alkenmayer #simonalkenmayerisdead #tw unreality #social experiment #manipulating public opinion? maybe?#Cryptid

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cobble-stone · 2 years

Text

broadripple is burning- chapter 1

Bdubs' manner of death was declared suicide. And yet, he woke up, remembering not even his own name. Bdubs' manner of death was declared suicide. Etho knew better than to believe this. An AU based on a combination of the song Broadripple is Burning by Margot & The Nuclear So And So's, Session 7, ghosts, and fueled by my inability to give my favorite characters a happy ending ao3 link

The first thing he felt was the cold.

Not the same crisp autumn air that one would expect this time of year, not the clear feeling of inhaling after the snow settled on the ground in the winter, not even the same cold that he felt when Etho stole all the covers and left him freezing all night. It was a hollow cold, one that felt like his heart was ripped out of his chest, one that made his whole body numb.

That thought didn’t make sense. What the hell even was an Etho, anyway?

He blinked his eyes open, awakening in an unfamiliar room, a lifeless one, dirty clothes scattering a pile on the other side of the floor, a few band posters, some machinery that he could never guess how to figure out, a trash can overflowing with cans and snack bags. Two twin beds that were shoved together, both sides unmade. It was familiar, but he couldn’t quite put a name as to why.

The second thing he felt was that same numb emptiness, only stronger, that grew as he looked around the room. A strange tightness formed in his chest, one that made it harder to breathe than normal. Physically, he was fine, but it felt like he was withering away, dissolving into the dust that caught the light streaming in through the gaps in the curtains.

Where even was he, anyway?

He glanced at the mirror on top of a dresser, observing his reflection. It looked lifeless, tan skin duller than it should be, dark circles under his eyes. He lifted up his hand and moved his fingers, watching as the reflection did the same. It didn’t seem right- almost as if it wasn’t himself in the mirror, but just a body he was puppeting around. It hurt his head to think about it too hard, so he turned his attention away, towards the various photographs tucked into the frame of the window.

Most had photos of two men. One looked like himself, with the occasional dyed blonde hair instead of the typical brown, often in a green hoodie of some sorts. The other was taller than he was, pale with white hair, with a scar over one eye and wearing a mask that concealed the lower half of his face.

Others had more, a blonde who exclusively wore red-tinted glasses, another with fluffy black hair and a wide smile. Occasionally a woman with red hair popped up, or a man with blue, or group photos with so many people that he couldn’t even begin to think of who they were.

He furrowed an eyebrow in confusion. These were obviously friends of his, but he couldn’t even name a single one of them. Who were any of these people?

He brushed his fingers against a photo of himself. Better question- why couldn’t he even think of his own name? He racked his brain, trying his best to think of anything that could fit, but nothing came to his mind.

He glanced down at his hand again, noticing a glint in the small amount of light—a golden ring, wrapped around his left ring finger, with Roman numerals ranging one through twelve carved into them. It was a nice ring, though the better question is why was he wearing one? He wasn’t really a fan of rings- and he didn’t think he was married, you would think that being married is something that a guy would remember.

Some of the photos of himself had the same ring, those photos also showed the white-haired man wearing a ring as well. I married that guy? The anime-protagonist wannabe? He chuckled in disbelief, almost.

Of course, all he learned from this wasn’t any sort of names or any sort of important information that could clue him into who he was or why he couldn’t remember anything, but the fact that he married someone who looks like they’re straight out of a comic book. Just my luck.

There were a few sticky notes scattered around the room, switching between many colors, almost all in the same messy handwriting. Some were stuck to plants saying things like “Water Me-” others slapped onto the mirror or onto walls with various messages such as “Pick up T refill,” or “Pay back Cleo,” or “Dentist appointment on 12/1,” all various mundane messages.

A couple others had different but equally messy handwriting, saying things like “Put away your goddamn laundry Etho,” or “Your month to do dishes.”

Etho- that was the name that he woke up thinking about. It wasn’t his, that was for sure. Must be the white haired guy’s name then, cause like- if I’m married to that guy, it’d make sense for us to live together, right? It was still weird to think about how he married that dude. Maybe it wasn’t marriage and just like- friendship rings or something, who knows. Certainly not him.

The sound of distant footsteps pulled his attention away from the various notes along the walls. He glanced towards the open bedroom door. Someone was awake- maybe that Etho guy could explain to him his life story or something.

The rest of the apartment was in a much worse state than the room. The kitchen was filled with old takeout boxes and scattered dishes, the living room with loose papers and a blanket thrown onto the floor near the couch, as if someone was just sleeping on it.

And there was Etho, sitting on that couch, holding his phone in one hand with an untouched plate with a slice of pizza on the coffee table. He looked significantly worse than he did in the photos, not in a mean way, but more in the sense that he looked like he was barely hanging on, his white hair sticking up in four different places with darker roots growing in, wearing a hoodie that he almost definitely had been sleeping in for a few weeks. His mask was off, showing the scar that went over one eye tracing down his face, looking especially painful down by his mouth.

“Dude, you okay? You look terrible,” He remarked, before he could think of a better thing to say to Etho.

It was evidently a stupid thing to say, seeing as Etho didn’t respond.

He took a seat on the coffee table across from this Etho guy, hoping that he’d acknowledge him, but he never did, switching between looking at his phone and looking around at the apartment.

“Hello? Are- did ya go deaf or something?” He asked again, and once again, Etho didn’t acknowledge him. Maybe the two had a fight the night before or something, and this was the silent treatment. But even then, the guy seemed to stare straight through him.

Etho sighed, grabbing the reheated pizza, and walking over to the kitchen to put it in the trash.

“Rude- I could have eaten that,” he remarks, standing up to follow Etho.

There was a rush of that same numb cold throughout every ounce of him as Etho, quite literally, walked straight through him.

Both of them stopped, pausing for a second. He must have felt it too.

Etho had started to look around the room, trying to find the source of the cold. Just for a moment, the two met eyes.

Etho blinked, looking almost taken aback, but after a second, muttered to himself that it was just his imagination.

“No- I’m- I’m real, right? I’m here- hello-” He ran back to Etho, waving his hands violently around Etho’s face as panic picked up in his voice “Look- I’m here- you can see me, right?” But every single time, as if he was made of thin air, Etho passed straight through, sending the same chill throughout his soul every single time.

He had sat back down on the couch now, pulling up his phone. Glancing over his shoulder, he could see a Google page open, as Etho typed out “Does grief cause hallucinations?” into the search bar one letter at a time, not even reading the results before shutting his phone off and putting it down beside him, putting his head in his hands.

He pulled out a necklace from under his shirt, holding the two rings that were held up by a chain. Etho ignored the silver one which slid down the chain, instead holding the golden one up and turning it over and over in his hands.

It was the same golden ring that he had woken up with on his hand, complete with the same detail of the Roman numerals reading one through twelve, like a clock. He glanced back down at his hands, and then to the ring in Etho’s.

He was starting to connect the dots, but the way that these dots connected were starting to scare him.

“I’m dead, aren’t I?”

He asked the question out loud, hoping for a response he was never going to get

The silence was enough of an answer.

#last life #etho #bdubs #last life fic #this is written as platonic but if you interpret it as romantic i do not care #i don't know why i decided to write something i don't LIKE writing why am i doing this #yes etho is trans. fuck you he's My comfort character and I get to trans his gender

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hepalien · 3 years

Text

Shrunkyclunks (Modern Bucky/Cap Steve) Fic Rec

Hate Sex & Hair Protocol by @maddiewritesstucky - Mature, 1.8k

SHIELD Agent Bucky, UST, Enemies to Lovers (in Steve’s head), Humor

They’re all full of shit, Steve decides.

His team don’t have a clue what they’re talking about, running their mouths about the way he and Bucky look at each other; the tension that seems to be at a constant near-snapping point between them.

'It’s called annoyance' Steve wants to yell in each of their faces, loud and one by one. It’s the pain of having to exist every day in close proximity with someone who drives you out of your fucking mind.

---

In which Steve discovers that ire and desire may just exist side by side in his brain.

Stop interrupting my grinding series by @rohkeutta - Teen, 2.5k

Nurse Bucky, Wrong Number, Fluff, Humor

“I tried to call Sam,” Captain America says, bewildered. He’s sprinting like Usain Bolt and doesn’t sound even a little out of breath. Fucker. “Who’re you?”

“Someone who’s watching you live on TV,” Bucky tells him as the tiny patriotic figure on the screen takes the turns like he instructed. Bucky should probably be a lot more freaked out about this, but honestly? After a tour in the Middle East and six years as a nurse in New York, even this isn’t enough to ruffle him. One sees a lot of shit in the ER. “Also, you better hang up now, that thing is behind the next bend.”

“Uh, okay,” Captain America says. “Thanks?”

“Whatever,” Bucky says, disconnects the call and turns the TV off to get ready for his shift.

Save a Horse, Ride a Captain by @galwednesday - Teen, 2.7k

War Vet Bucky, Meet Cute, Fluff, Humor, Modern Howlies

Bucky tapped him on the shoulder, swaying back and forth a little as he waited for the man to turn around. “Hello,” he said, and then promptly forgot what else he was going to say, because this guy was fucking beautiful. “Wow. Good face.”

Two of the guy’s friends, a man wearing a suit that fit so well it had to be bespoke and a man with a cute little gap between his front teeth, started cracking up. The petite redhead sitting next to them cocked her head to the side and pulled her phone out of her handbag. Beautiful Face just looked kind of pained, so Bucky redirected. He was a gentleman. He could take a hint. No hitting on beautiful guys who were uncomfortable with that sort of thing, no matter how lickable their jawlines were.

“Hello,” he repeated, doing his best to mind his manners. “I’m very sorry to bother you. Can I have a piggy-back ride?”

You Make My Heart Skip A Beet by @musette22 - Teen, 3.8k

Chef Bucky, POV Outsider, Fluff, Humor

“I made soda bread.”

Steve lets out the 6’2” supersoldier equivalent of a squeak. “Oh, I love soda bread,” he says eagerly, rolling forward on the balls of his feet like he does when he gets excited. “My mom used to make it all the time when I was growing up.”

The tips of Barnes’s ears turn red, and he mutters something that sounds suspiciously like, “I know.”

more under the cut

Cafe Au Écoute by @littlesystems - Teen, 3.8k

Coffee Shop AU

No matter where Steve goes, there's always the chance that he'll overhear a conversation about himself - or rather, Captain America. This coffee shop is no different. The fact that he keeps eavesdropping well past the point of plausible deniability is another matter entirely.

#TweetMeDaddy by StarSpangled - Teen, 4.1k

SHIELD Employee Bucky, Misunderstandings, Crack, Humor

Coulson, for his part, stares up at Bucky with such a betrayed look of frozen horror that Natasha actually goes the extra step and presses another button, capturing the moment and airdropping the photograph to her phone for posterity. When he speaks, his voice comes out as a hoarse whisper. “Why…?” He swallows and starts again, trying for some semblance of normality. “...Why would you tweet something like that?!”

“If you must know, sir,” and somehow he manages to make ‘sir’ come out with the same inflection most people reserve for ‘motherfucking son of a bitch’, “it’s because I have a difficult time doing my job when my job involves monitoring the man with the best fucking ass in the United States of America.” He slowly lowers himself back into his seat until he’s at eye level, making extreme eye contact with Coulson until Coulson turns away to make mortified eye contact in Natasha’s general direction through the one-way glass. Natasha would take another picture, if she weren’t too busy catching Steve’s red-faced sputtering. “Sometimes, I vent to my Twitter followers. Sometimes, it’s about hot men with washboard abs. Can I go now, or do you need a graphic description of how I pleasure myself at night?”

at first chance i'd take the bed warmed by the body by @spacebuck - Explicit, 8.2k

YouTuber Bucky

This close, Steve can see exactly how beautiful his hands are. He’s never really noticed before, or at least he’s never really had a reason to notice, but the man’s hands are large, tanned like he works outside all day. There’s an endearing callus on the heel of one of his palms, and Steve can’t quite work out when calluses became endearing.

Steve pauses the video. Swallows hard. Casts his eyes around for anything that’ll keep his mind off the hands on his screen, off the words inked into those hands, the delicate shape of a bird’s wing, the curling edge of a vine.

He looks down. The name of the channel is right there, blaring the man’s name right into Steve’s brain until it feels like he’s known it all along.

Bucky Barnes.

OR: the one where Bucky's a youtuber who solves puzzles on camera, and steve's smitten and horny

Came with my cool (I dropped it) by @liionne - Teen, 9.2k

Yoga Instructor Bucky

"When you said I need to loosen up, I didn't think you meant literally."

"I meant it every way. Mentally, emotionally, and physically." Natasha says, and thrusts a yoga mat at him.

there once was a diamond by bloobeary - Teen, 11.3k

Fluff, Thanksgiving

"You," Becca seethes, and hits him with a wooden spoon. "Could have told me," Hits him again. "You were dating Captain America." Final hit, Bucky laughs. He supposes he deserves it, giving her no more information than the fact he was bringing his boyfriend to Thanksgiving dinner at her house and then showing up with Steve.

Salt by littleblackfox @thelittleblackfox - Mature, 12k

Bakery AU

The cinnamon roll is gone in four bites. Four indecent, jaw-unhinging bites, and Steve sucks the last traces of lemon and icing from his fingers with a low, throaty sound of satisfaction. He glances up at Bucky, who is leaning against the counter and watching him with avid fascination.

“Um…” Steve says around his index finger. There’s still a little icing on the bed of his fingernail, and he stops trying to work it off with his tongue.

“You know those movies where the girl eats an eclair or something, and it’s really, like, sexually charged?” Bucky asks.

Steve pulls his finger out of his mouth. He’s never seen that kind of movie, but the thought of Bucky eating an eclair is certainly… well, it lingers. “Uh?”

“Yeah, well that was the exact opposite.” Steve scowls, and Bucky cackles gleefully. “You are something else, Steve.”

Leg Day by Brokenpitchpipe - Explicit, 12.1k

Gym Thot Bucky

“So talk to him,” Sam says.

“I can’t,” Bucky groans. “I can’t, Sam, I. He just.” He fluffs his hair up and stares at Sam, distraught. “I want him to bench press me.”

“Okay, so it’s serious,” Sam interprets. “Got it."

(Or: The one where Sam is Bucky's long-suffering roommate, Bucky is a hot mess of a millennial, and Hot Steve spends far too much time on the Lat Pull-Down machine.)

Art Nouveau by voluptuous_panic - Explicit, 12.2k

Bartender Bucky, Tattooed & Pierced Bucky

Steve's on the worst date of his life. At least the bartender's cute.

much tattoo about nothing by @deisderium - Explicit, 14.5k

Tattoo Artist Bucky

Steve Rogers gets a lot of email requests, but never one like this: James Barnes wants to use his healing factor to practice tattoos.

Turns out tattoos give Steve boners.

No Wonder There's Panic in the Industry by sprinkle_of_cinnamon - Not Rated (I’d say Mature?), 20.5k

Stark Industries Intern Bucky, Team fic, Humor

In which Bucky Barnes and his BFF, Clint Barton, are NYU interns for Stark Media Group competing to be Pepper's favorite.

Or alternatively, the time Bucky assisted the P.A. team on the Steve Rogers piece and ended up (adopted) with a contact list full of Avengers.

Life of the Party by @aggressivewhenstartled - Explicit, 21.6k

Superhero Impersonator Bucky, Mistaken Identity

“You know, kids,” Steve heard from the backyard, “one of the most common threats a superhero has to face is inside an active volcano! We’re going to have to work on your evasion skills, so for the next five minutes, the floor is lava!” This was met by a sudden spike in both volume and pitch from the small children as they scrambled onto every raised surface they could find and immediately launched themselves right back off.

“I’ve never seen actual lava in my entire life,” Steve said, vaguely offended.

“You got a superhero impersonator for The Falcon’s niece’s birthday party,” Sam said, incredulous. “The Falcon, who is an actual superhero.”

Trust Enough by @geneticallydead - Explicit, 23.3k

Misunderstandings

“Saturday. Yeah, that’s good,” Steve says, and actually scuffs his shoe at the ground. Like a ridiculous shy superhero damsel. “Say eight? I live-“

“Yeah, big building with the A on it,” Bucky says, and can’t help a big stupid grin. Steve stares at him, looking a little dazed, and after their whole conversation it’s only now that Bucky’s brain catches up and realises Steve finds him quite attractive. So. Win for Bucky.

“Let me get your number,” Steve says finally, after they’ve stared stupidly at each other for about three hours, taking out his phone.

So they exchange numbers, and then Steve says he should go, and Bucky agrees, and they kind of stare at each other for a bit more, then Steve actually does go, but not before taking Bucky’s hand and squeezing it warmly in a way that makes Bucky want to shiver all over. Then Steve is gone, and Bucky is standing alone in the alley, grinning to himself.

Right up until the moment he remembers that Steve thinks Bucky is an escort he’s just hired.

Well fuck.

The Roommate by layersofart, Niitza - Teen, 28.6k

War Vet Bucky, Roommates AU, Humor, Fluff, Angst, Team fic

In which Steven G. Rogers, a.k.a. Captain America, gets a roommate. Who rapidly turns into his "roommate"—in the euphemistic sense of the word.

It takes SHIELD and the rest of the Avengers an absurd amount of time to notice.

Brooklyn Baby by sprinkle_of_cinnamon - Mature, 33.7k

Coffee Shop AU, Modern Howlies, Mistaken Identity, Team Fic

In which Bucky is just trying to live life and enjoy his unofficial official table at the obnoxiously hipster coffee shop but some guy named Steve stole his spot.

Or, the time that Bucky unintentionally befriended the Avengers and had no idea.

Never Talk to Strangers by mambo @whtaft - Teen, 40.4k

Grad Student Bucky, Slow Burn

Never Talk to Strangers: or; How a Forgotten Childhood Lesson Led Bucky Barnes to Appreciate Charlie Chaplin, Befriend an A.I., Slip on Soap Bubbles, Be Mistaken for a Succubus, and Try to Woo a Superhero.

Sinking Our Teeth In The Heart Of The Sun by fallendarlings @pressrestartwrites - Explicit, 102.8k

Single Dad Bucky, Kid Fic, Slow Burn, Domestic, Fluff, Mutual Pining, Steve has Autism

Bucky Barnes never intended to become a single father at 25. But life has always enjoyed kicking him while he's down and it's showing no signs of stopping. A chance meeting with a brick wall of a guy named Steve in the formula aisle of the grocery store leads to a friendship it seems like both of them need. If only Bucky could remember that's all they are- friends. If only Steve didn't slot into their lives so perfectly and look so good spoiling Bucky's daughter (and Bucky, despite his protests).

Oh, if only Steve didn't turn out to be Captain America.

Steve Rogers is wandering around a world that he doesn't fit into, fighting for a government that he doesn't trust, just because he doesn't know what to do with himself if he ever relaxes long enough to actually think about anything other than the next mission.

And then came Bucky Barnes and his newborn baby.

More recs

#stucky #stevebucky #stucky fic #stucky fic rec #shrunkyclunks #stucky fanfic #stucky fanfiction #steve x bucky #my stucky recs #fic tag #mine #fic rec #mcu fic #tumblr ate this the first time [my longest sigh ever]#i read art nouveau for the first time last week and I've been thinking about it ever since

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ediths · 4 years

Text

The View From Both Sides of The Mirror

Pairing: Harry Styles x Reader

Word Count: 23.5k

Summary: Who would have thought that being stuck on a boat with your worst enemy would be a good thing?

Warning(s): Cursing, some mentions of yachtrry, Harry being a softie, Harry also being a dick, reader being down on herself

A/N: So this is my submission for @stylesharrys 10k follower celebration! I chose the picture above, the trope enemies to lovers, prompt “That’s not what I meant, I swear. I know I can be an asshole but I'm not that heartless.” I’ve been working on this for quite a while and I really debated deleting the entire thing a few times, but here she is, all finished and ready to be enjoyed!!

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Harry Styles is a lot of things. Annoying, over the top, self obsessed, judgmental, self indulgent, careless, overly flamboyant, rude, narcissistic. He’s a lot of things, but perfect is not one of them.

The media continuously had a lot of ridiculous ideas about him, most of which were laughable. You’d often scroll through your social media and snort at the things that people would post about him. You had seen some things that were quite funny, but nothing compared to the article that your best friend, Lexi, had shown you. You full body cackled after reading the title, and who could blame you? “The Perfect Man the World Didn’t Know It Was Missing” was top tier comedy.

There were a plethora of things wrong with the title that the up and coming news station had so foolishly chosen.

The most obvious of which being the fact that he was literally 26, and he’s been in the spotlight for over ten years. The world hadn’t been missing him at all. He’s been shoved in everyone’s face for over a decade and they find a new reason to act like he’s the best thing that ever happened to the universe. They over exaggerate everything, make it seem like he was either born an hour ago or just discovered yesterday. Which was definitely not the case, as you had been told numerous times by the man himself.

The second being that they all acted like they knew him when really they had absolutely no idea who he is. The ones that covered the stories acted like they knew him as well as his childhood best friend when really they had taken a statement, at most. They had no clue who he actually was. They couldn’t tell you his favorite number, or how he fixes his toast. They don’t know the reason why he no longer wears skinny jeans. They don’t know why he’s so open with who he is and how he presents himself. None of them know anything about any of that, and it’s more bothersome than you’d like to admit. But it’s not just the people that praise him that rub you the wrong way. No, it’s even the ones that say bad things about him, that claim that he’s Satan's spawn. It was still exasperating to hear them say things about him. They acted like they knew him well enough to hate him, to paint him as the villain in their article.

Yeah, sure, you and Harry didn’t get along, but at least you had a reason. Most of the people that didn’t like him were just upset because basically everyone wanted something to do with him, and they were all mad because he was seemingly perfect. He never lost his temper (he definitely did, just not in public), he was nice to everyone (yeah, besides you), and he would never turn down a picture with a fan if it was safe to do so and he had time (that one was true. The one part of him that you don’t absolutely hate is the love that he has for his fans. He’d be nowhere without them, and he realizes that. And, although he’s not appreciative of a lot of things, he is of them).

And the final thing about the article, the one that irked your nerves the most, was that they were yet another news group to paint the picture that he was perfect, that he was the golden boy. That he had never once done something that could be seen as wrong. Which, yet again, goes to show that they don’t really know anything about him, at least not personally.

Sure, Harry Styles came off as perfect. He had to. He’s in the public eye, spotted everywhere that he goes by at least one person. He had been coached from the ripe old age of 16 to come across in that way. In his career, there has never been any room for error. One mistake could have brought down everything that the managers of One Direction were trying to accomplish.

He was conditioned into media perfection long ago. He had been told how to speak, how to act, what to wear, what to sing. Anything that could possibly cause an upset in the fandom was immediately changed, edited to make it look better. He was shaped into the boy that the world had come to love.

But Harry, the guy that you spent the majority of your waking hours with, due to the numerous mutual friends that you had, was annoying at best. Most of the time, though, he was a complete prick.

There was nothing about the man he was behind closed doors that was perfect. He was utterly and completely himself. Most people would think that’s a good thing, him being comfortable enough to himself to the fullest extent. But you? You absolutely hated those times. He was much easier to deal with when you were out in public, when he was too worried about keeping up appearances to do anything particularly shitty.

The two of you had never gotten along. From the very moment that the two of you had met, there was a tension. It was like there was an immediate distaste for one another. All of your friends could tell that the two of you would never get along, but they tried to force it anyway.

That night, he had seemed completely uninterested, like he’d rather be at some party that only had A-List celebrities on the guest list than there meeting you. At first, you had been hurt. But then you came to accept it. Came to accept the fact that you just weren’t good enough for him. You weren’t like the rest of your friends. All you did was work in photography, and you weren’t even one of the well off photographers. Sure, you didn’t struggle, but you weren’t on the same level as the rest of the people that you had formed friendships with.

Your mutual friends had tried their best to ease the tension between the two of you. They had done everything in their power to force the friendship. You had to give them props, they pulled all the stops, but there was nothing that anyone could do that would make you not loathe the mere thought of him. Maybe it was the fact that he made you doubt who you were. Maybe it was the fact that he gave off the asshole vibe. Or maybe, it was just because he seemed to not like you, but from that day forward, you weren’t on good terms with him.

Things had gotten so bad with Harry that you had even tried to find a new group of friends. You were tired of feeling like you were the odd man out, feeling like you had ruined every outing because you couldn’t just suck it up and get along with him. There had come a time when you didn’t even feel like you had belonged. All of the people that you had surrounded yourself with were extremely successful. Most of them were CEOs of something. But when Harry had met them, he had introduced the singers, writers, and musicians into the group. You weren’t any of those things. Sure, a lot of people saw you as an artist, but you could barely be seen as anything compared to the others, and that haunted you until you began to believe that your occupation as a photographer wasn’t valid.

So, you searched for new friends. You tried to find people that would make you feel like you belonged, like you were their equal. You just wanted some people that you could relate to. You hadn’t felt that in way too long, and being around Harry and his super successful, extremely famous friends wasn’t helping any.

You tried for a few weeks before realizing that it was pointless. He found a way to weasel himself into that aspect of your life as well.

Every single time you met someone new, the same thing happened. You’d talk to them for a few minutes, get to know each other a little. But each time, without fail, they’d ask “Hey, aren’t you that chick that’s friends with Harry Styles?” And each time, you’d immediately walk away, never looking back.

Nobody cared about making friends with you, they just wanted to have a way to Harry. Every cell in your body was filled with regret. You had made the decision to openly be in the same friend group as him. You hadn’t taken into consideration that once you were spotted with him repeatedly, your life would never be the same.

It left you wanting to rip your hair out. Or at least go back in time so that you never had to meet him, never had to be in public with him. It sucked that no matter how hard you tried, he wouldn’t stay out of your life. He was present even when he physically wasn’t, and it was aggravating beyond belief.

It was safe to say that you hate Harry Styles.

It was also safe to say that Harry Styles hates you.

You were so uptight, always sticking up your nose at everything that he did. You had done it since the moment that you had met him and it seemed as if you had never stopped.

You had given him a look that could only be described as one filled with disdain the moment that you met him, and from that moment on he had tried his best to distance himself from you. With the both of you running in the same circle, though, that was pretty hard.

So, he had just tried his best to ignore you. That didn’t work very well either, seeing as you always had a reaction to everything that he did. And none of those reactions were ever positive.

You acted like there was something wrong with him spending the money that he earned. It got on his nerves more than just about anything. What was he supposed to do with it? Was he just supposed to let it sit in his bank account for the rest of his life? He donates a large chunk of everything that he earns every year, it wasn’t like he was just blowing his money on meaningless things. He had his priorities straight.

He had come to despise nights out, knowing that you would be there. You always had something to say. Or not say, rather. You’d never tell him that it was exactly that made you so upset with him. Every time you would send him a look, he’d ask why, but you’d simply turn on your heel or slip out of the booth, heading to the dance floor to be as far away from him as possible.

He was a simple man, really. He just wanted to go out with his friends, buy something strong off the top shelf, and drink until he was in the cuddly mood that his mind automatically switched into when there was enough alcohol running through his veins.

But with you there? Oh, he couldn’t do that. God forbid he buys something expensive like that. God forbid that he spend his money on what he wanted to. Every time he’d order his drink, you’d curl your nose up, as if you were completely disgusted by his choice. And every time that he would get overly touchy and want to cuddle someone, he would automatically seek you out. He didn’t know why, and he despised his brain for thinking of no one else but you.

He knew that the fact that he never chose someone else to agitate probably made you hate him even more than you already did, and he went home every weekend feeling awful about it. He never meant to annoy you. Sure, he hated you, couldn’t stand the way you acted like you were better than him, like you were higher up than him even though he saw the two of you as equals, but he never meant to purposefully get on your nerves. He never went out of his way to cause you to hate him even more.

However, that didn’t stop you from thinking that he did. Didn’t stop you from thinking that he’d do anything in his power to pester you. It didn’t stop you from hating him more and more every day.

When your friends had called you and told you that they wanted to go on vacation, you were excited. You could use a break, a bit of time to forget about all the stress and just relax on a boat with your friends. Plus, you had never been to Brighton, so there was no way you were going to say no to that experience.

However, the initial glory of the idea wore off the moment that you realize Harry’s the only one with any kind of boat. Which means in order to have the relaxing getaway that you want, you'll have to deal with him for at least a few hours every day, if not every moment that the sun is up. If you’re completely honest, you don’t even understand how he’s going to get the yacht to Brighton when it’s kept in the States. You didn’t question it, though, because that’s the reason that Lexi gave you. Which means that has to be the reason that he has to go.

To top it off, it won’t even be like it normally is. If he gets you worked up enough, you can’t even just walk away and leave, you’ll be stuck on his boat in the middle of a body of water, with no way to swim to land without risking something bad happening.

You had already paid the deposit for the house, but you were fully willing to let someone else take your place on the trip. Were fully willing to give up the vacation because there’s no way in the world that you could spend an entire week with Harry without something terrible happening. Plus, there was only room for four people and there were many more than just that in your friend group. They could easily find a replacement.

When you had called back to tell Lexi and Sam that you weren’t going to be attending, they all but guilt tripped you into coming along, saying that they had invited you for a reason and that they would be really bummed out if you decided to stay behind and give someone your spot.They also gave you the look, the one they always hit you with when you back out of something just because of Harry.

You felt bad, always ruining plans because you were in a constant argument with him, so you tried to put your pride to the side for a moment and at least listen to what they had to say.

Against your better judgement, you agree to go, but only because you would have your own room with a private bathroom attached, and your friends confirmed that they wouldn't say anything about you hiding away from Harry if he got to be too much. They also assured you that you and Harry would be separated for the majority of the trip.

They knew that the both of you need a vacation, but neither of you can stand the other, so they promised that you would have an adequate amount of alone time to have the relaxation that vacations are supposed to bring.

After doing your shoot that night, you go home and pack the suitcases you'll need for the week that the four of you plan on staying there. You don’t pack much, just a single suitcase and a carry on. You check to make sure that you have your passport and that it’s valid, and that you have all the items from around the house that you’ll need.

Once everything is settled and put together, you flop down on your bed, switching on a random Netflix show that you’d been obsessed with lately and allowing yourself to drift off to sleep..

You’ll never know how your friends had let them talk you into letting them plan the entire trip. The only thing that you were told was how much your portion of the bills were and when they were due. It has annoyed you to no end, seeing that you are the type of person that likes to know every detail of what’s going on. You had been on more than enough trips that had absolutely everything that could go wrong do exactly that, leading to ruined trip after ruined trip, that you’d rather know all the plans, maybe even make a list or two so that there are no missteps or slip ups when it comes to the actual vacation.

You texted Lexi a few hours before you had to leave to board the flight to ask if you could scan over the plans and the details of the trip, not to change anything, just to double check. Of course, she said no immediately, not understanding that you just wanted to look over it and make sure that everything was in order to calm your nerves. You didn’t want to explain this to her, though, knowing that she would begin to feel guilty for not letting you see it immediately, and that’s not what you wanted to happen.

If you had talked to her and she had actually allowed you to check literally anything for the trip, though, the first thing you would have ensured was that you wouldn’t be stuck on a plane right next to Harry for hours. You’ll never understand how she could put you in this situation, making you sit next to the most loathsome person in this world, who she knows that you can’t even be in the same room as for more than a few hours.

By the time the situation registers in your mind, however, he’s already loaded his carry on and sat down in the seat. Which means that it's definitely too late to do anything about it. Yeah, you’d rather not sit next to him for hours on end, but you’re definitely not going to cause a scene on an airplane full of people. Especially not when half of them already have their phones out, trying to discreetly take pictures of Harry.

Besides, the flight attendant is already coming around checking belts and the pilot is introducing himself and spouting out information that seemingly no one is paying attention to. This flight will be over in no time. At least that’s what you tell yourself to get through the next ten hours.

You groan, rolling your eyes at the irony of the situation. Of course something like this would happen. You had only agreed to a vacation because you needed relaxation. You needed a break from all the stress. But here you were, stuck right next to one of the biggest stress inducers in your life. Yeah, Lexi had promised you that you’d have plenty of time away from Harry at the rental house, but you were definitely making up for all the time that would be lost right now.

If you didn’t know better, you would think that Lexi and Sam were plotting against you. But that’s crazy, right? They wouldn’t do something like this on purpose, would they?

You lightly shake your head, pushing the thought from your mind. They wouldn’t do that.

You pull out your phone, queuing up the playlists you had downloaded prior to boarding. You knew that you’d want to shut yourself off from the world for the duration of the trip there, so you prepared accordingly.

You take one final glance around the cabin, seeing that everyone else has begun settling in and nobody else is announcing something important. You slip your headphones in your ears, ready to relax as much as possible throughout the flight. You know that the only way to completely avoid being pestered by Harry is to completely block him out.

The first song that comes on makes you want to laugh. You obviously don’t do such a thing, knowing that the outburst would cause every single person on the plane to look at you like you’re crazy.

You couldn’t catch a break today. Of course one of his songs would be playing in your ears while your face was less than a foot from his. Of course it would actually be one of your favorites. You had never once in your life pressed the skip button on this song, but knowing that he’s as close to you as he is, you’re hesitant to even listen to the opening chords of the song.

“Carolina” blared through your headphones for a split second before you made up your mind and hit skip. You couldn’t risk being caught by him. There’s no way you would survive this if he found out that you listened to his music, especially since you have it saved to your playlist. There’s no way that you’d be able to play that off as you simply listening to it so that you could make fun of him for it later (which you wouldn’t do in general, you know how important his music is for him, and you’d never dampen the light that appears in his eyes when he talks about it. You’re not that cruel.).

It was quite frustrating, really. His music is fantastic, a perfect blend of the basic attributes that hook audiences that hear songs on the radio and a uniqueness that you can’t find anywhere else. His music was absolutely amazing, but the man that sang it… he was a different story.

You didn’t like to judge his tracks based on how fond of him you were when you first heard them. If you did that, you’d never listen to them in general.

You’d never admit it to him, but every song of his, even the covers, was scattered throughout your playlists. And every once in a while, when nobody was around, you would listen to them and genuinely enjoy them. Sometimes you’d even dance along, and that’s a secret that you’ll take to the grave.

You wanted to drift off to sleep, but didn’t want to risk him hearing if one of his songs came on. Lord knows that he doesn’t need the ego boost. So, you turned the volume down until you were confident that nobody else could hear it. You lean your head back against the rest and let your eyes slip shut, finding sleep in seconds.

What seems like moments later, you’re being awoken by someone. You think that maybe it’s Lexi at first, but then you feel them, the rings that he never seems to take off. You jerk your body away from him, not wanting his hands to be on you.

“Hey, it’s time to wake up. We’ve landed.” You open your eyes and glare at him, taking your headphones out. You can tell that he’s holding in a laugh and it makes you want to punch him right in the jaw. You choose not to do such a thing, however, because you’d rather not cause a scene on an airplane. So, you settle for flipping him off.

He chuckles before mimicking your action. You roll your eyes, standing up from the seat and grabbing your carry on. Harry steps back, letting you walk ahead of him. You think nothing of it until he pushes at the back of your knee, almost making you fall to the ground. What is he? A middle schooler?

You can already tell that this is going to be a long trip, regardless of what Lexi and Sam had assured you. So far, what they had said had turned out to mean absolutely nothing to you. Not for the first time since you woke up this morning, you find yourself wishing that you hadn’t given in. That you had just said no and not let them talk you into it.

You walk with a bit more speed after you step off of the airplane, trying to get as far away from him as possible. You don’t want to have to add falling over in the middle of the airport to the list of reasons why you despise flying. You had only agreed to get on the plane this time because it was absolutely necessary in getting to Brighton.

You meet up with Sam and Lexi by the luggage pick up and all of you wait for your bags. You put all your effort into ignoring Harry, only looking in his direction or humming an approval when the conversation called for it.

“Alright, well. We need to get to the car rental service and then I have to go rent the yacht.” Harry says, making you snap your head up, looking straight at him. After a second, you turn to Lexi and Sam, looking between the two.

“Oh, no, no, no. Tell me you’re fucking joking.” You spit. “Harry just had to come, huh? And you wouldn’t let me back out? Harry’s the only one with a yacht? Yeah, he’s the only one with a yacht but he’s fucking renting one.” You can’t believe this. “Look, if I had known that me being stuck in a foreign country with him wasn’t completely necessary, I would have given someone else this vacation in a heartbeat.”

“Y/N come on…” Sam starts, but you cut him off.

“What, Sam? Want me to hold my tongue yet again so I don’t hurt Harry’s feelings?” You scoff. Why did they care about his feelings when he had never once taken yours into consideration? “Well, you know what? Fuck Harry’s feelings. He’s rude to me for absolutely no goddamn reason and I’m tired of it. I wanted to come on this god forsaken trip so that I could relax. Both of you,” you point back and forth between Sam and Lexi, “promised me that I would get to relax, that I would only be around Harry on the boat. But it seems like your word is bullshit, doesn’t it?”

Your luggage rolls around and you yank it off the conveyor. “Let’s go get the stupid ass cars. And Harry?” You turn to him, pointing your finger at him and tapping his chest. You ignore the way that the contact sends shivers up and down your spine. “Don’t you dare fucking say a word to me on the way there. Don’t touch me, for any reason. You know what? Just don’t even look at me. That should make everything a little more bearable, got that?”

He nods, and with that, you walk towards the exit of the airport, knowing that there was no way you could continue that argument without bursting into tears. You weren’t upset in that way, you just had the habit to start crying when you were pissed off at someone to this point. They had really lied to your face. You know Lexi though, she’ll use the fact that she ‘technically didn’t lie because Harry is the only one with a yacht.’

You wait outside, knowing that they have the address to the car rental place, and there’s no way that you want to get lost here. You don’t look at any of them once they come out the doors, and they don’t make any effort to talk to you.

The entire walk to the shop, you stay a few feet behind them, not wanting to be too close to any of them. It’s not even so much so that you were mad anymore, that had subsided. You were hurt. The fact that they lied to you? That was something that all of you had promised to never do to one another, even you and Harry. And what hurt even worse was the fact that the people that did lie to you weren’t who you expected to ever lie to you. If anyone was going to do something like that, you expected that it would have been Harry that did it, not them. It probably wouldn’t have hurt as much if it had been Harry, but only because you had mentally prepared yourself for him to betray you, had kept your walls up against him since the moment that he showed you who he was around you.

The walk to the rental store was a short one, leaving you barely any time alone with your thoughts, which you were completely fine with. You didn’t really want to be in your head right now.

Lexi walks in, leaving the three of you outside. She comes out a moment later with two sets of keys. “Alright, who’s riding with who?”

“I’ll ride with Sam, give Y/N some time away from me.” If he hadn’t said it with the hint of sarcasm that he did, his words could have been mistaken for sweetness. But you know how he is. He makes everyone else think that he’s such a sweetheart when really he’s a prick.

The house is nice. Really nice, actually. The moment you walk in, you’re met with the high ceilings of the entryway. You must admit that Lexi and Sam did a great job on picking the house that you’d be staying in for the week. You walk through the entryway and see a kitchen off to the side, it’s really modern, looks like it was just redone. There’s a sitting room directly adjacent to where you’re standing. And you can see multiple doors and a hallway that leads to other rooms, which you assume are bedrooms and the half bath that would be used for guests.

You immediately go to pick a room, knowing that nobody else really plans on being in their rooms at all, so it’s not like they’ll mind. You venture down the hallway and see a few art pieces. You smile to yourself. The house is really cute. You wouldn’t mind living somewhere like this when you find someone and settle down.

You look through all the rooms before choosing the one at the very end of the hallway. There’s a large four poster bed sitting in the middle of the room. There’s a bookshelf to the right of the bed and a nightstand with a cute little lamp on it to the left. Upon walking further into the room and scanning the entirety of it, you see that there’s a dresser against the wall opposite the bed. There’s a tv sat upon the dresser. To the right of that, there’s a door that leads to the bathroom.

Even if Harry does get on your nerves during this trip, you can always come in here and escape from it all. You smile at the thought. That was truly the first thing that had been seen as a positive since you had left your house that morning.

Since it was already pretty late, you decided to hop in the shower. Grabbing your clothes for the night and walking into the bathroom. As soon as the door is closed, you begin peeling off your clothes. Just doing that puts you in a better mood, you had been wearing those clothes for far too long. They probably didn’t smell the best, having sat on your body for an entire plane ride.

You fiddle with the temperature settings on the shower for a moment before stepping in. The moment that the hot water hits your skin, you let out a sigh of relief. You can feel the muscles that had tensed up throughout the day start to relax.

After spending what feels like an adequate amount of time in the shower, you towel off and get dressed, making your way to the bed. You crawl under the plush comforter and immediately feel the exhaustion rack your body. You turn off the lamp and roll onto your stomach, letting sleep pull you into the blissful state where nothing bothers you

Lexi busted into your room early the next morning, shaking you awake until you turned to face her.

“Do you need Sam and me to get you anything from the store?” She chirped, far too giddy for any normal person to be this early in the morning.

That makes sense, though, because Lexi is far from normal. She has this electric personality, usually bringing out the absolute best in everybody.

She has been your best friend since high school. She took you under her wing during your sophomore year, her junior year.

Since then, you have been through a lot together. Crushes, relationships, heartbreaks, you and her yelling at the guy or girl that broke the other’s heart. You helped each other pick up the pieces when nobody else was there to help do so.

You had been through dozens of friendships since sophomore year, but the only one that has been a constant is her.

Sure, the both of you had changed. But you had changed together and supported one another through every decision.

You had seen her cycle through different haircuts - she had chopped off her brown curls during her senior year and instantly hated them, choosing to let them grow back out to their rightful place, right below her shoulders - and hair colors - when she cut her hair, she also dyed it a bright red, which you’re still convinced is the real reason she hated the length of it as well. You had also experienced her ever changing sense of style, which was actually a plus for you most times, because when she changed her taste and cleaned out her closet, she’d give you all of the clothes that no longer satisfied her, leaving you with a new wardrobe at least once a year.

And she had been there for you too, sticking with you through your ‘whore phase.’ Which really just consisted of you dating the ‘hottest guy in school’ - he wasn’t really that hot - and then rumors spread the next year that you were messing around with the ‘hottest girl in school’ - that one was the one that got you the label, all the guys being mad that they couldn’t get with her, seeing as she was strictly into girls.

Lexi had also dealt with your late night calls, riddled with anxiety, not knowing what it is that you could possibly do with your future. She had calmed you down multiple times, talking through options with you. She was the reason that you came to realize that you wanted to be in the fashion industry in some way.

She had already known what she wanted to do, had been aware of her dreams since before she even made it into high school. She used to tell you all the time, “Y/N, one of these days, I’m going to own a Fortune 500 company.” And that’s exactly what she had done.

Which is the only reason that you got to be friends with all the people that you do. She’s also the one who introduced you to Harry, starting the rivalry between the two of you.

“No, I’m fine.” You groaned, rolling back over.

“Alright, sleepy head.” She chuckled, walking back out of your room and latching the door.

Once she’s gone, you reach over and grab your phone, checking the time. Seven A.M. You groan. Was she crazy?

You’re definitely not pleased that you’re up this early. However, you decided to go ahead and stay up. Your alarm would be going off in two hours, and you know that you’ll be grumpy if you go back to sleep just to wake up then.

You pull yourself out of bed, trudging to the bathroom. You run through all the steps of your morning routine and emerge from the bathroom, ready to take on the day.

Your way of taking on the day is going to be picking a book from the bookshelf and laying in bed until around ten, when you’re scheduled to go out to the water for the day.

It’s almost ten when you get the text from Sam.

We’re running late, you and H go ahead and get on the water, we’ll rent jet skis to get out there. X

You roll your eyes, of course they’d be late. And of course they’d leave you to fend for yourself with Harry.

You quickly get dressed in your dark blue bikini, the one that accentuates all your curves perfectly. You then throw an oversized band tee over your head, making sure that you’re covered enough before walking out and making sure that Harry's ready and has everything that he’ll need for the day. You’re really not in the mood to have him forget something and have to come all the way back to the house.

When you reach the living room, he’s already by the door, dressed in a pair of yellow swimming trunks and a cream colored tee. He has the yacht keys in hand, along with his phone. He already has the cooler and the bag Lexi had packed with supplies for the day (sunscreen, portable chargers, etc.).

You just stand there for a moment, looking him over, trying to ignore the feeling that you got in your stomach. You couldn’t place exactly what it was, but it had to be one of disgust, right? You couldn’t stand being around him, he was unnecessarily rude to you and you can’t tolerate him. That feeling couldn’t be anything good, it had to be disgust, or maybe it was resentment. Either way, it stopped you in your tracks.

“You coming or what, loser? It’s enough that it’s just us, do I need to hold your hand too?” He smirks.

You push down the rising feeling in your chest, and push past him, walking over to the passenger side of the suv that he had rented for the week.

He takes his sweet time strolling over, popping the trunk and placing the bag and cooler in before slamming it shut again. He unlocks the doors and you slide in, buckling your seat. You refuse to look at him, knowing that if you make eye contact with him, he’ll be more inclined to say something dickish to you.

The ride to the water is mostly quiet, the only sound in the car being the music from the radio. Some top 40s song that you haven't heard yet was filling the air, causing the silence between you and Harry to be slightly less awkward.

“What’re you gonna do when we get there?” He asks. You’re taken aback for a moment. Why was he even talking to you, let alone asking what your plans were for the day? Why was he being weird? “Because, honestly, you should probably tan, you look like a ghost.” There it is, the snide remark that was missing.

You scoff. “Harry, maybe don’t check me out every two seconds and you won’t notice.” You joke, knowing that he’s the last person on the planet that would ever check you out.

You expect him to hurl an insult back at you, tell you that he’d never check out someone as ugly as you, or tell you that he was only scanning to see what he could make fun of, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t say a word, and when you turn to him, you see that the tips of his ears are red and there’s a blush creeping up his neck. Was it really that embarrassing to be accused of checking you out?

You don’t push him, thankful for the returning silence. It only takes a few more moments to get to the docks anyway, so it’s not like the silence is stretched out for too long.

You grab the cooler and the bag this time, knowing that he’ll have to drive the yacht, and you don’t feel like hearing about how lazy you are because you didn’t do enough.

The walk to the boat is silent and filled with tension. It’s like both of you want to say something, are dying to talk to the other, but you won’t. You don’t want to talk to him, you just want to talk to someone. It’s not the same.

Once Harry gets everything ready, you climb onto the boat, setting everything down and pulling out the sunglasses that you had decided to bring at the last moment.

“So, where do you think we should go?” You ask, knowing that he’s been here before. He’ll know how far out you can go while still being able to anchor the yacht.

“Out on the water, duh.” His words are laced with sarcasm and it makes you want to throw him overboard. Too bad he’s the only person on this vacation that’s ever had enough down time to actually learn how to handle one of these things.

“You know what the fuck I meant, stop being an idiot.” You spit, hating how easily he got a rise out of you.

He chuckles before waving you off with a, “I know what I’m doing, darling, don’t worry about it.”

He seems to catch what he says as soon as it slips out of his mouth, his eyes widening and the blush coming back to his features. You choose to ignore it. You’d rather just go up to the deck and tan.

For a split second, you debate on whether or not you should lay out, knowing that he would think you were doing it because of the comment that he made. But then you realize that you don’t actually give a fuck about what he has to say or what he thinks with his final two brain cells.

So, you head up to the upper deck, stripping yourself of your shirt and laying out a towel for you to rest on.

You stay in that position, only moving to flip over so that each side gets an even amount of sun, until you hear jet skis approaching.

You push yourself up, wandering down to where Harry has set up his towel. Apparently he decided to sunbathe as well. It’s not like he needed it though, he has a tan that any woman would absolutely die for.

You quickly give him a once over, halting when you realize that he’s put a stupid hat on his head. And not even just that, he has it on backwards. What was he trying to do, absolutely kill you?

Here’s the thing, you hate Harry, sure. But you aren’t blind. You can see how attractive he is, how his tattoos run over his tanned skin, making you want to trace each detail with the tip of your finger, or more honestly, your tongue. His muscles always accentuate everything that he wears, regardless of whether it’s one of the custom Gucci suits or a random Nike tank that he threw on to go on a run. His face is damn near perfect, so much so that it makes you want to throw up. His cheekbones are high, jawline sharp. He was blessed with the dimples, which are only made even better by his eye crinkles. And God, his hands. His hands that are constantly adorned with rings, all of which could probably pay your rent for at least a year.

It’s really not fair. In all honesty, him being as completely flawless his physical attributes seem to be is absolutely not fair. You used to scoff at the fact that people were blessed with good looks. It was all genes, right? Wrong. Sure, Anne’s gorgeous and you’re sure that Desmond had to have had something going for him when Anne met him, but Harry? He came out to be a whole lot more attractive than anyone you had ever seen. And just to add on to everything, he was the person that you hated the most in the world.

You’re broken out of your thoughts by Lexi pulling up to the side of the boat and climbing in. She doesn’t even look at you, just walks farther into the yacht. You don’t think to question her, she’s probably annoyed by something that Sam said. But then you notice that Sam isn’t getting off his jet ski, does he plan on just not taking his shirt off the entire time?

Lexi comes bounding back to where you and Harry are standing, but she again doesn’t stop. She just keeps walking, clambering back onto her abandoned vehicle. You’re confused for a second, what’s going on? But then you see them, the keys dangling in her fist. You’d know those keys anywhere. They were put on Harry’s keychain the moment that he had picked them up. She has the yacht keys.

Before you can say anything about it, she’s driving off, yelling, “Have fun!” into the wind.

“They did not just-” You start, only to be cut off by Harry. Usually, you’d be annoyed by him, but this time, you have another source of irritation.

“Yeah, they just pulled an Outer Banks on us.” He sighs, walking back to where he had originally been laying.

“Are you not mad?” You try to stop your eyes from tracing the expanse of his back, but it seems to be impossible. The way that his muscles are flexing under the expanse of skin drawing you in.

“No, are you?” He sounds like he couldn’t care less, which is odd. Shouldn’t he be upset that he’s forced to spend an entire day alone with the person that he hates?

“Um, yeah.” You groan. Of course you’re mad, you don’t want to be here. How can he seem so calm?

“Why are you so fucking uptight all the time?” He blurts, catching you off guard. The words hit you like a train, knocking all the air out of your lungs. So this is why he hated you. You just thought that you gave him the wrong vibes or something, he seemed like the kind of person to judge based on that type of thing.

“What do you mean?” He looks over at you and rolls his eyes.

“I mean, why are you so uptight all the time?” For some reason, your chest tightens up and you feel like you’re going to cry. You’d known that he couldn’t stand you, that he’d rather not be around you, but hearing the real reason? Hearing what he really hates about you? That fucking hurts.

“Is that why you hate me?” At most, you had thought that maybe he just looked down on you, thought that you weren’t good enough to be part of the friend group because you didn’t own a fortune 500 company, or sell houses for the richest people in America, or sing to thousands upon thousands of adoring fans. But apparently not. Apparently he had an actual, legitimate reason, and for some reason, that stings.

“I don’t hate you.” You scoff and roll your eyes at him. Did he really think you’d believe that? “I just think that you’re uptight and you get on my last nerve.”

“You hate me, Harry. Don’t try to lie about it.” He can say what he wants, but people that don’t hate you don’t act the way that he does.

“I don’t hate you, I just strongly dislike you.” This makes you snicker. He’s such an idiot sometimes.

“That’s literally just you saying that you hate me with a different word choice.” He looks over at you, and you see the little tufts of curls sticking out from the side of his hat. The sight makes your chest ache, why does he have to be so fucking cute? Why couldn’t you be blessed with an ugly enemy?

“Whatever.” He sighs, brushing the conversation to the side.

You want to continue, but you’re almost scared to. You could just walk back up to the upper deck and continue tanning, or you could even go for a swim, but instead, you stay right where you are. You subconsciously start to play with a loose string on the shirt that you had slipped back on before coming down to Harry.

“I’m not uptight, by the way.” You say after a few moments of silence.

He scoffs, “Yes you are.”

“How so?” You’d love to hear him explain this one, even though it’ll probably either hurt you even more or infuriate you. But you’d like to know why he thinks you’re so uptight,

“You think you’re better than everyone, especially your friends. You have the money to do what you want but you turn your nose up at the finer things in life and give all of us dirty looks when we drink from the top shelf or buy something super expensive.” You’re speechless for a moment, but he doesn’t seem to be done, so it doesn’t really matter. “You act like there’s something better about you getting cheap tequila and wearing the same clothes over and over again. Well, think about it this way, yeah, I buy from the top shelf and I wear a lot of new clothes, but most of those clothes, I get sent. Most of them I don’t even pay for. Which honestly, you’ll probably find to be worse. But yeah, you’re uptight.”

After a moment, the words ignite a fire in you. “First of all, that shows how little you know about me, Styles. I don’t have the money to do what I want. I have money, sure. But not that much. I have enough money from my job to pay for rent, bills, food, and then have a little bit to splurge on myself.” You really don’t want to have this conversation with him, you don’t like to talk about your financial situation with anyone, let alone him. “But nowhere near enough to spend excessive amounts on alcohol or drop almost a grand on a striped t-shirt with a pig on it that’s literally the size of my fingernail. Not all of us can be big shot CEO’s or superstars.”

He looks shocked by your words, which just further added to your point. He didn’t know you, not at all. He pretended to know you, made assumptions about you, all of which seemed to make him hate you more and more.

“Well you still give us dirty looks.” You almost snort at his feeble attempt to save his argument.

“I literally don’t but okay. I don’t really care what you think about me. Hate me if you want to. You’ll be annoying either way.” You turn on your heel to get as far away from his as possible, but he stops you with his words.

“I’m not annoying.” This time, you actually do let out a chuckle. Him thinking that he’s not an annoying little prick is honestly better comedy than the specials they try to run on TV.

“The fuck you aren’t, Harry. All you do is make snide comments.” Who did he think he was? A saint?

“I do not. Don’t start your shit, Y/N.” He glares at you, but his looks don’t have the effect that he wishes this time, they just add fuel to the fire still burning bright inside of you.

“Don’t start my shit?” You snicker. He has to be fucking kidding. “You tell me how trashy I look in outfits that I think I look great in. You tell me my makeup looks like shit and that if I was trying to impress someone, I failed, even though all I do is put it on for myself. You tell me to stop trying so hard to get attention when I’m literally trying to blend in as much as possible.” You’re trying to hold the emotion back, to not cry in front of him, because you’ve already spent enough time crying over the things that he’s said. “You call me a slut when I have a one night stand like you don’t literally bring a different girl hom every fucking night. So I don’t wanna hear it, Harry.”

If looks could kill, the one that he’s giving you at the moment would have you six feet under. “You don’t fucking know me. I don’t bring a new girl home every night, you make me sound like a fuckboy.”

You roll your eyes. “I could make you sound a lot worse. And maybe there’s not one every night, but there’s at least one a week, and I have a one night stand what, maybe once every couple months? If even that?” You let out a shaky breath. “Yeah, maybe I don’t know you, but that’s not my fault. I didn’t make the choice to not know you. You pushed me away the second you met me, even though I did nothing to you. You didn’t let me know you. But you don’t know me either.” The tears are gathering in your eyes and threatening to spill onto your cheeks. You look up towards the sky, trying to make them subside. Once you feel confident enough in the fact that they won’t drop, you look back at him. “You’re not just annoying, you’re a dick. The shit you say? God, if you knew how much that shit can hurt someone.”

“Don’t come at me and say that any of that hurts you. You fire right back and then go on with your day.” The smirk that he has plastered on his face makes you want to knock him into a new dimension, but you compose yourself. He isn’t worth it.

“Yeah, of course I just let it roll off my shoulders while I’m around you. Have you ever thought about why that is? About why I seem to not care?” Your voice has slowly but surely become louder. “It’s because I’m not going to cry my eyes out and let myself wonder if maybe you’re right, that maybe I do look like shit and should cover up as much of my body as possible, right in front of you!” By the end, you’re screaming, and you don’t even care.

You take a deep breath and continue, “I can’t give you the fucking satisfaction. Because Lord knows that you’ll just hold that over my head too.”

That seems to have some sort of effect on him. His face falls almost immediately, that god awful smirk disappearing. His eyes seem to get softer, and a part of you wants to walk over and hug him. But you don’t. Of course you don’t. He’s the guy you hate the most.

“I didn’t know you felt that way.” He mumbles as you’re getting ready to head back to the upper deck.

“I’m sorry.” He tries, but you’re not going to let him off the hook that easy.

“Sorry doesn’t fucking cut it, Harry. It’s not like you're even sorry anyway. You don’t care about me, so don’t start acting like you do now.” With that, you turn on your heel and make your way back up to continue tanning.

Once you get back to your towel, you let the few stray tears fall. You hate that he has the power to make you cry, but you can’t help it. He just gets to you, regardless of how hard you try to guard yourself from him.

He comes up after a few minutes and you look over at him, waiting for an explanation.

“I’m going for a swim. If you need anything, I’ll be in the water.” He states, and you turn back around.

“Have fun.” You spit, the words laced with sarcasm.

He doesn’t reply. You hear his footsteps receding and then a splash signaling that he’s jumped off of the boat.

For some reason, you have a bad feeling in the pit of your stomach. At first, you ignore it, but then you stop hearing the sloshing of the water. You can’t help but let yourself get a little panicked. You may not be the biggest fan of the guy, but you can’t just let him drown.

You stand up from your spot on the towel and walk over to the side of the boat that you heard the initial splash come from.

You make your way back down to where you and Harry had fought. You grimace at the thought. Had that really been one of the last things he ever heard? No, you can’t think like that.

You look to your right and notice that all four life jackets are still hooked on the railing. Of course he didn’t take a life jacket. Anything could have happened to him and now you wouldn’t even be able to float. He could be sinking to the bottom, never to be found again.

Yeah, he can swim. He’s actually a really good swimmer, but he could have hit his head on the boat when he jumped in. Or he could have dove down under the water and ended up getting caught on something.

You rush over to slip one of the life jackets and grab an extra. The last thing that you needed was to find him and not be able to drag him back to the boat because he’s too heavy.

You jump in, the life jacket keeping you afloat. With there being no need to concentrate on not drowning, you focus all your efforts on finding Harry. You can’t see him anywhere in the general vicinity, so you start looking under the water as long as you’re able to.

You’re trying your hardest, but you can’t find him.

You start to panic. Suddenly you find it hard to breathe and the tears are streaming down your face. You immediately blame yourself. You should have just stopped earlier, should’ve realized that there’s a better time to argue with him. Maybe if you had just been a little nicer, the two of you could have gotten along for the day. Why didn’t you just stop? Why didn’t you at least accept his apology?

You’re pulled out of your thoughts by a strong pair of arms wrapping around you. You scream, not knowing who it could possibly be. You twist in their arm, realizing that it was only Harry.

You push away from him. “What the fuck, Harry? I thought you died!”

“Really? And you came out here to look for me?” He asks, and for a moment, you think he might be grateful, but you can already see the smirk forming on his lips. You choose to ignore it for the moment, though.

“Yeah, I couldn’t hear you swimming around anymore and I thought maybe you had hit your head on something or gotten pulled under or something like that. Where were you?” You’re trying to wipe the tears off of your face, but your hands are just as soaked as your face, so it does absolutely no use.

“The other side of the boat, why didn’t you just check over there?” His smirk is present in full force now.

“I don’t know, slipped my mind, I guess.” You mumble, knowing that this could have all been avoided if you had just looked on the other side of the boat.

“Seems pretty fucking stupid of you.” He chuckles.

You push even further away from him, throwing the life jacket you had brought for him in his face. “You’re such a fucking dick! Sorry that I cared too fucking much about your life to check the entire perimeter of the boat before trying to save you!”

You can’t believe him. You didn’t think of one thing, in the heat of the moment, and now you’re stupid? Wow. Okay, next time you’ll just let him drown.

You start to swim back towards the boat. He’s following you, but you don’t care enough to acknowledge it.

“I’m sorry. That’s not what I meant, I swear. I know I can be an asshole but I'm not that heartless.” You don’t even turn back to him.

“Problem is, Styles, you really are that heartless.” You spit, climbing back onto the boat, trying to get as far away from him as possible.

He clambers up after you, trying to get your attention. You actively ignore him, though.

He grabs your wrist, wrapping his fingers around the joint. You spin on your heel.

“Let me go, Harry.” you demand.

“Y/N, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.” His eyes are pleading with you, but you genuinely can’t care any less.

“Seems pretty fucking stupid of you.” You throw his words back at him.

His face immediately falls, not liking how the words hurt him. He deserves it though. All you were trying to do was help him and he was an absolute prick.

You storm back up to your towel, laying down and trying to dry yourself off.

Not too long after you head back up, he brings you a sandwich that he made with the supplies he had packed in the cooler.

“Thought you might be hungry.” He mumbles when he sits the plate down. He doesn’t wait for you to respond, just turns back and heads to where he came from.

You wait until he’s gone to eat, only doing so because it’s already made and you wouldn’t want the food to go to waste.

What seems like eons later, but was definitely only hours, Lexi and Sam get dropped off at the boat by a random couple you’ve never seen before.

You rush down to where they are.

“Did you guys get any closer?” Sam asks.

You just roll your eyes and stick your hand out. “If you don’t hand the keys back this fucking instant, I will not hesitate to jump off this boat and swim back to the docks.”

Lexi looks at you with wide eyes and hands over the keys. The moment that you have them in your hands, you stomp over to Harry and chuck them at him.

“Drive this stupid ass boat back to the docks, and don’t you dare fuck around or you’ll get thrown overboard and I won’t bother to come looking for you.” He doesn’t argue with you, just picks up the keys and makes his way to the wheel.

“What happened?” Lexi questions, but you just brush her off.

“Ask him, he’ll tell you with a fucking smirk on his face.” You walk over to the bench and sit down, not wanting to talk to anyone else throughout the trip back.

It only registers with you that you’ll have to ride back to the house with Harry after you get to the docks.

“I’m walking home.” You announce, knowing that it’ll only take fifteen minutes tops to get back to the rental.

“What are you talking about?” Harry and Sam ask at the same time.

You ignore Harry, turning back to Sam. “I’m walking back to the house. It shouldn’t take me long, and there’s no way in hell I’m riding with him.”

With that, you turn and start walking. The road is secluded, lined by trees.

After a few minutes, they drive up to you. Harry rolls down his window. “Y/N, come on, I’ll walk if it’s that big of a deal.”

You raise your hand, flipping him off. “Wouldn’t want to ruin your Gucci shoes.”

He sighs, rolling the window back up and continuing to drive. He knows better than to argue with you right now. There’s no way that he’ll win.

You slow your stride, wanting to prolong the walk as long as possible. You only speed back up when the clouds start to turn into a viscous shade of gray.

The one thing that could bother you more than Harry is thunderstorms. And you can tell by the state of the sky that a bad one’s coming.

You sneak back into the house, pushing the door open as quietly as possible. Thankfully, there’s nobody in the living room. Everyone seems to have retired to their rooms.

As you’re creeping down the hallway, you hear Harry talking to Lexi. Her door is slightly ajar and you can’t help but stop and listen.

“No, no. Lexi, I know. I fucked up. I shouldn’t have called her stupid. All she was trying to do was help me. God, I’m such a fucking idiot.” You can hear his voice waiver and you think for a moment that he might be crying. You quickly push the thought from your mind. Why would Harry be crying over you?

“Yeah, you did fuck up. Harry, this isn’t how you treat people that you care about.” Every trace of air leaves your lungs at that. Since when does Harry care about you? You want to blame it on him lying, but why would he? It’s just Lexi. And they have no way of knowing that you’re here. He must be telling the truth.

“I know, I know. We were arguing before then, She told me about how shitty I make her feel and it absolutely tore my heart into pieces. I don’t mean to make her feel that way.” You can’t deny that he’s crying, hearing the sob come less than a millisecond after he finishes.

“I know that, H. But she doesn’t, She thinks you get a kick out of hurting her. She really thinks you hate her.” You can visualize what she’s doing, knowing how she comforts like the back of your hand. She’s running her hand over Harry’s back, trying to soothe him. And if that doesn’t work, she’ll push his hair back and wipe the tears from his face, tell him that it’ll all be okay.

“I’m aware. But I don’t, I hate hurting her. That’s what I hate, not her.” If he doesn't hate you, then why does he act the way that he does?

“Then go show her.” You smile, Lexi knows you so well. She knows that you judge people off their actions. And that you don’t believe a word anyone says until they show you that their words actually mean something.

“Alright. I will when she gets home.” The determination in his voice makes your heart swell.

You hear him get off of his bed and you scurry to your room, not wanting to face him, and really not wanting to get caught eavesdropping. You slip inside and close your door just in the nick of time. Half a second after you’re out of sight, you hear his feet padding along the hallway to his room.

You sigh, a million thoughts running through your head.

Could he really care about you?

If he does, why is he so rude to you all the time?

How does he expect to make this up to you?

You decided to take a shower. Not only to get clean, but also to clear your head. The second the water hits your skin, you know that there’s no way this shower is going to be as quick as you had planned. For a long time, you just stand under the stream of water, letting your mind run rampant with the thoughts of Harry.

Is it a good thing that he could care about you? Sure, you see how he is with everyone else, and you’ve always craved to have that with him. And hating him is absolutely exhausting, most of the time you’d rather just fall into the easy conversation that he’s able to have with the rest of his friends.

But would it be that easy? Probably not. Nothing was ever that easy when it came to him.

Are you willing to work for it? If Harry takes the initiative and tries to show you that he does care, then yes.

Once you come to that conclusion, you realize just how long that you’ve been in the shower. Your body is starting to prune, and the water has gotten significantly cooler.

You step out and throw on the shirt that you slept in the night before, but not slipping on the shorts.

You open the bathroom door and trudge over to the bed, flopping down and switching the lamp off.

Usually, you could never fall asleep comfortably during storms, but after the day that you’ve had, your eyes are shut and sleep is overtaking you in mere moments.

Far too soon, you’re being shaken awake.

The first thing you notice is that it’s dark outside. Who in their right minds is waking you up before sunrise, you don’t know.

The second thing you notice is the chill of someone’s cold rings on your skin. The contact makes a shiver run down your spine.

You immediately roll over and face him. The sight of him is not great. He’s soaked from head to toe, water dripping on the floor. You almost have the nerve to scold him for not drying off, but then you realize that he has no reason to be wet. What did he do? What happened to him?

“When did you get home?” He asks, voice sticking in his throat.

“Earlier. Why are you wet?” Your voice is hoarse from sleep and you pray that you don’t sound revolting.

“Went out in the storm.” He shrugs. “None of us heard you come home. I guess when I checked in here earlier you were in the shower or something.”

“Why did you guys go looking? You could’ve just called or texted.” You say, then realize that you may have seemed ungrateful. “Not that I’m complaining, thanks for worrying about me.”

“Well, you see, Sam and Lexi thought you’d be fine. You know the way home, after all. They just thought you had stopped somewhere to cool off and wait out the storm. I went looking though, I was really worried. And I didn’t text or call because I, um, don’t exactly have your phone number.” He lets out a dry chuckle, running his hands through his hair.

Your heart swells. Harry went looking for you. He walked right out into a thunderstorm because he was worried that you were stuck out there by yourself.

“Hey, um, so I didn’t mean to eavesdrop or anything, but I heard a snippet of your conversation with Lexi earlier while I was walking to my room.” You gulp, hoping he doesn’t think you’re creepy or anything. ��Did you really mean what you said?”

“Which part did you hear?” His question is laced with anxiety and he looks like he’s seconds away from passing out.

“Um, from the part where you said you fucked up and didn’t really hate me.” You mumble.

“Yeah, I meant every word. I also meant it when I said I was gonna show you that I care about you.” He looks up, meeting your eyes. You can’t help the feeling you get in your chest. This man just went out into the pouring rain, lightning falling all around him, just to look for you.

“I think you already did, H.” Regardless of how he treated you in the past. Hell, how he treated you in the past twenty four hours, you can’t help but see tha the really does care about you. Lexi and Sam, the two people in the house who were supposed to not hate you in the slightest didn’t even go looking, but the one person who was supposed to not give a fuck about whether you’re breathing or not did.

“Did you- you just called me H?” He stumbles, and a smile comes to your face.

“Yeah? So?” He said it like it was a good thing, but you could never be too sure with him.

“So, you’ve never done that before.” His expression is unreadable. Usually you can tell exactly what he’s thinking, but right now you’re coming up blank.

“Do you not want me to? I can stop saying it.” You wouldn’t ever want to do something that he’s uncomfortable with, you just thought that’s what everyone called him.

“No!” he blurts. “No, please don’t stop. I like the way it sounds coming from you.”

“Alright.” you grin “H.”

The smile that breaks out over his face is the biggest that you’ve ever seen. “Wait, what did you mean I already did?” He wonders.

“You just risked getting sick to go out in the pouring rain to try to find me.” Which reminds you, if he doesn’t get in a warm shower and some dry clothes soon, he’s going to catch something.

“It’s the least I could do.” His cheeks are turning a light shade of pink, and you really hope that it’s a blush and not him being cold.

“Yeah, but that shows me that you care, H.” You say, getting up from the bed and checking to see if you had brought the extra sweatpants and sweatshirt. Unfortunately, you hadn’t.

“I’m sorry, by the way. Like really sorry. I hate myself for what I said. I’m so stupid. You were just trying to save me and I was a dick.” You appreciate the sentiment, you really do, but right now, that’s not your concern.

“It’s fine.” You mumble, because, really, it is.

“No, it’s not.” He doesn’t want to believe it, but it really is. You wouldn’t be letting him drip excessive amounts of water on the floor if you were still mad at him.

“Yes, H, it is. Now come on, let me go get you some clean clothes. Go get in the shower, there are towels in the bathroom.” You’ve come to the realization that you’d have to retrieve his clothes, seeing as you hadn’t exactly planned for something like this.

“Y/n, it’s fine. I can just go take a shower in my room.” He tries, but you immediately refuse.

“No. You can take one in here so I know that you take one and don’t just change into dry clothes.” The look he gives you lets you know that was exactly what he was planning to do.

“I’m not gonna win this, am I?” You chuckle, pleased that he knows well enough to not argue with you any further on this.

“Not a chance, now get your ass in there.” You put your hands on his shoulders and nudge him towards the bathroom. You try your hardest to not think about the way his muscles ripple underneath your digits.

“Alright, alright. I’m going.” He concedes, trodding into the bathroom.

You wait until you hear the water running before you exit the room to find his clothes. You make the journey to his room, grabbing boxers and a pair of sweatpants from his bag. You don’t bother trying to find a shirt, knowing from the countless times that he’s stripped out of one to take a nap at a friends house that he never wears them to bed.

You make your way back to your room, sitting the clothes down on the small table sat outside the bathroom door.

His vast collection of rings is placed on the table as well. He must have taken them off and sat them there after you left.

Without thinking, your hand reaches out and picks up the rose ring that adorns his hand more often than not. It’s gorgeous, and you can’t stop your fingertips from running across the designs. The band is etched with leaves and vines, and upon further inspection, you feel that there’s a little caterpillar seemingly hidden on the inner part of the ring.

It’s heavy in your hand and you can't help but wonder just how much metal was used to make this ring. It’s obvious that it was hand etched, so your mind tries to picture how big the piece was before the carving started.

After a few moments, you place it back on the table, picking up his Cartier ring. You wonder for a moment how something so simple could cost the ridiculous price that it did. Sure, it’s absolutely gorgeous, but the price tag that you know it carries is enough to make the appeal fade. You don’t have the luxury of dropping thousands on a ring.

He opens the door and you immediately drop the ring, cheeks burning from being caught. You know how much he adores his rings, and you’re scared for a split second that you’ve overstepped, crossed a boundary that he wouldn’t be comfortable with.

All your worries are washed away, though, when he says, “Wear it.” He reaches over for his clothes, a towel wrapped around his waist.

You gawk at him. Was he serious? “H, I can’t do that.” You go to scramble away, before your eyes get caught on the way that the water droplets from the shower cling to him, the sheen making his tattoos even more vivid. God, what you would do to trace every line and seemingly miniscule detail.

He gives you a soft smile, and your heart speeds up to a rate that has to be unhealthy, especially since you’re sitting still, your back rimrod straight. “Yes you can. Go ahead, put it on.” He urges.

You sigh, picking up the Cartier ring that you had been admiring moments prior and slip it on your ring finger, that being the one you wear all rings on. You glance up at him through your lashes and you can see the way that his eyes seem to have lit up. You try to ignore the way your stomach flutters, the butterflies going absolutely wild.

He chuckles, looking down at your finger, where the ring sits, looking about five sizes too small. You join along, letting a lighthearted laugh slip through your lips. It truly was ginormous on you, but you expected no less. He does have large hands, after all.

“I’ve got a chain around here somewhere, keep the ring.” He says nonchalantly, like he’s not gifting you a fucking Cartier ring.

“Harry, no, it’s too expensive.” You can’t possibly accept this ring, so you really hope that he doesn’t fight you on it. You’re pretty sure you’d say yes to just about anything if he keeps looking at you like he’s just seen the most precious thing in the world.

“If you don’t keep it and wear it, I’ll never wear it again, so it might as well be worn by you.” He argues, giving you the stern look that you know well. It’s always the one that says not to argue back, that he’ll just continue pestering you if you do.

Knowing that the argument would go on for hours on end if you didn’t, you reluctantly agree.

He gives a triumphant smile before returning to the bathroom, clothes in hand.

A moment later, he comes back out into your room and your ability to breathe is gone. You swear he’s the most perfect person you’ve ever seen. Sure, you’ve seen how pretty he is before, but you’ve never let yourself truly see how perfect he is. Maybe you prematurely judged that article. Maybe they had a point.

The muscles in his upper body ripple under his tan skin, making your mouth damn near water. You avert your eyes from his shoulders to his chest, admiring the butterfly inked onto his abdomen. You had always adored that tattoo, at times you even wished that you had thought of the idea before he had. You see the way that the ferns underneath trace his lower stomach, the endings leading a trail right to the band of his sweatpants.

God, why would you get him gray sweatpants? At this view, your mouth actually does water, wondering how good he would look with even less on.

Him shuffling over to pick up his rings is what breaks you out of your trance, your cheeks heating up from the thoughts that had been running through your mind.

He places each of the rings carefully back on his hands, sans the Cartier ring. He left that one on the table, looking up at you with a smirk.

He begins to make his way out the door, but you stop him.

“H,” you give him your best puppy eyes when he stops and looks over his shoulder at you, “Will you stay with me? I’m scared of thunderstorms.”

“Are you really?” He doesn’t say it in a mocking way, it’s more in a perplexed way. You’re not confused by this in the slightest, as far as he used to be concerned, you’re not scared of anything.

“Yeah,” you admit, “but I also want to get to know you. Feel like we’ve missed a lot while hating each other.”

He sighs, “Never hated you.”

You smile, “I know, I know, but I thought you did. Made me not able to get to know you very well.”

“Alright.” He agrees. “Let me go put my rings up and get that chain for you and then I’ll stay.”

You wait patiently as he does just that, wondering why you had never just taken the time to talk to him before. Would it really have been that simple?

“Here you are.” He speaks when he reenters the room, walking over to the stand and placing the ring on the chain. Once he’s done, he gently sets it back down, ensuring that the chain doesn’t get tangled, and then trudges over to you.

He sits on the edge of the bed, probably just intending to stay until you fall asleep, and at first you’re fine with that. But then you start to get progressively more tired, and your clinginess starts kicking in, that fact that you’re touch starved not helping.

“H.” you groan, making his ears perk up and his eyes snap to yours.

“Hmm?” he wonders.

You make grabby hands at him. “Come cuddle with me.”

A smile breaks out on his face and your stomach does the flippy thing that makes your heart race.

He slowly crawls towards you, as if he’s giving you enough time to take back your words, to give him any sign that you regret ever asking him to come up to you. Once he’s right beside you and you’ve made no move to stop him, he slips under the covers and pulls you close.

You immediately sigh in content and place your head on his chest, the sleepiness taking over more and more as you listen to his heartbeat against your ear.

RIght before you completely drift off, you mumble, “You’re not as bad as I thought you were.” You hope he hears you, but you don’t have the time to check, sleep overtaking your body and pulling you under.

When you wake up the next morning, you let your eyes stay shut, not wanting to be greeted with the sunlight just yet.

You shift slightly and realize that you’re still laying with Harry. You can feel his solid chest under your head, your legs are tangled with his.

After a moment, you can feel him looking at you, “It’s rude to stare, H.” You joke, expecting him to laugh.

He doesn’t, though, instead he just whispers, “Can’t help it. You’re beautiful.”

You immediately blush, burning under the compliment. You’re still not used to being this close to Harry in general, but receiving compliments from him is even weirder.

“Can I tell you something?” You look up at him, waiting for him to accept your question.

“Yeah, anything.” He holds eye contact with you, your faces mere inches apart. You could very easily push yourself up and attach your lips to his, but you refrain, not wanting to push too far. You had just started really talking to each other last night.

“I never hated you either.” You say, the words barely audible. You’re ashamed of it, of the fact that you pretended to hate him, probably making everything worse than it had to be.

“Really?” He looks hopeful, like he’s praying that you’re not joking with him.

“Really. I just thought that you hated me. Figured that we should at least balance each other out.” You let out a humorless laugh, trying to make light of the situation, but you still can’t shake the guilt. You probably could have been lying in bed with him a long time ago had you just made it clear that you didn’t hate him.

“So all this time, neither one of us hated the other, but we both thought we did?” He has a smirk etched on his face, and a very large part of you wants to close the space between the two of you. You can’t handle the smirk right now, not when his chestnut curls are framing his face the way that they are. Not when his bare chest is still pressed against you, warming you up in the most delightful way.

“Basically.” You can’t help but giggle. The situation really is quite ridiculous.

You move to get up and he pouts, holding onto you and trying to get you to stay in his arms, he’s enjoying the warmth that you’re radiating.

“Where are you going?” He whines, making your throat constrict. He sounds so pretty when he whines.

“I’ve gotta pee, I’ll be right back.” You promise, knowing that the words will soothe him.

“Don’t go…” He tries giving you puppy dog eyes, but they won’t work this time, not when you can feel the urge to use the bathroom growing.

“I have to pee, but I promise I’ll come back to exactly where I was when I’m done.” You reach over to him and push a stray curl behind his ears, reveling in how soft that his hair is.

“Good, I wanna keep cuddling.” He mumbles, and you can’t help but feel the butterflies return yet again. You can’t believe that Harry was just begging you to stay curled up in bed with him.

It all seems a little off, having him in your bed, cuddling with you. Less than twenty four hours prior, you were screaming at each other on a boat about how much you can’t stand each other, and now neither of you do? You come to find out that the both of you were faking it this entire time? The entire situation is a little confusing, but you’re a lot happier with it than you were with being at each other's throats all the time.

Now that the two of you are being more honest with each other, you figure it’s probably time to start being more honest with yourself. And that starts with admitting the feelings that you’ve been suppressing for him.

You had seen how attractive he was the moment that you had even laid eyes on one of the numerous articles about him. You aren’t shallow though, that’s not what made you have the feelings that you had developed for him. You could also see just how nice he was to everyone else, how he lit up every room that he walked into. How everyone was always put into a better mood just by his presence. You began to fall for that version of himself, the one that he was with everyone else. You had caught feelings before he even said a word to you. There were times when you had been at the same party or event, and you’d be able to feel the effect he had on everyone else. And at first, that was intimidating, but then you felt a pull to him. Like the two of you were magnets and were destined to be together.

But then you actually talked to him, and everything went south.

Now, though, you’ve realized that he’s only like he is with you because he thought that you hated him. Which is absurd to you, but you were quite distant that night. You had been overwhelmed, thinking that you were inferior to him in every way that night. Maybe that’s why he thought that you hated him, because you didn’t show that much interest, because you seemed like you didn’t want to get to know him.

You don’t really know how to process that information. This entire thing had initially been your fault, had you just gotten over yourself and realized that you’re good enough to talk to him, all of this could have been avoided.

As you wash your hands and get ready to exit the bathroom, you can’t help but wonder what everything’s going to be like. How are you going to act around each other? Is it gonna change? Are you still going to bicker or are you going to act like everything’s perfectly fine?

You scoff at yourself, of course you’re still going to bicker, that’s who you are. Plus, nobody’s perfect, all friends argue about something at points.

When you come out of the bathroom he’s sitting on the end of the bed. You raise your eyebrows in question. “Thought we were gonna keep cuddling?”

He quickly rises when he sees you. “Had a slightly better idea.” He holds out his hand and waits for you to take it.

“I’m more of a touchy kind of person.” He starts after you take his hand. “I show that I care about people by physical touches.” He pulls you closer to him, wrapping his arms around your waist. “If we’re gonna tell them that we don’t hate each other, we’ve got to at least make it believable.”

“Stop making it sound like we’re pretending.” You laugh. “You just cuddled with me throughout the night. There’s no way in hell we hate each other. But yeah, I’m that way too, so I don't mind the touches.” You assure, pulling back and reconnecting your hands.

He gives you a reassuring look as you walk out of your room and into the sitting room. Sam and Lexi stop the conversation they were having immediately and look over at the two of you. Their jaws are on the floor within moments, obviously not believing what they're seeing.

“Why are you holding hands?” Sam blurts, breaking the silence that had blanketed the room.

“H, you only do that with girls you’re dating or girls that you’re friends with. What’s happening?” Lexi adds, a hopeful glimmer in her eyes.

“Wanna explain?” Harry asks, squeezing your hand.

“Sure.” You say.

You begin to explain it to them, making sure to get all the details. Harry’s mostly quiet beside you, only inputting anything when you forget something.

For a moment after you finish, the silence is back. Lexi and Sam look at you like you’re absolutely insane. After a minute of letting their brains process the information, they finally let smiles break out on their faces, jumping up from the couch to hug the both of you, excited that you guys can finally get along.

After a little while of the four of you sitting around and talking, it’s decided that everyone should go out on the yacht. This time, though, nobody will be stealing any keys.

Once you get out to the desired spot on the water and anchor the boat, you turn to Harry. “Hey, H?”

“Yeah, love?” He used the term like it’s no big deal, but it makes your stomach churn in the best way possible.

“Wanna go swimming? Promise not to think you’ve drowned again.” You chuckle.

Harry doesn’t seem as amused though, still feeling guilty about how he treated you. “Sure, promise not to be a dick again.”

You walk over to him, wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing your head into his chest. “I told you it was alright, H. Stop beating yourself up over it.”

He sighs, nodding his head. You grab his hand, pulling him along the deck to the edge of the boat.

“Wanna jump together?” You look over at him and see the smile break out across his face, the dimples and eye crinkles out in full force.

“Yeah, love, let’s do it.” Before you can think too much about the second use of the word, he’s counting down from three and then you’re jumping, body submerging into the crystal water.

If you had been paying more attention to anyone besides Harry, you would have seen the way that Lexi and Sam were caught up in watching you, wondering how in the world the two of you had done a full one eighty in less that twenty four hours. Sure, they wanted the two of you to get along, but they never expected you to get this close as fast as you did.

After a while of swimming around with Harry, you decide to get out and try to tan, seeing as not everyone can be actors that get paid to go swimming and get tans.

As you do so, you can feel Harry’s eyes on your body, but you choose not to acknowledge it. For a moment, you want to invite him to come tan with you, but you don’t want to make your feelings too obvious to him.

When it starts to get dark, Lexi proposes that everyone head back to the deck. You agree, ready to go home and get out of your bikini.

Harry tries to get you to drive the yacht, even trying to teach you, but to no avail, you have absolutely no skill when it comes to driving boats.

Once you get to the docks and clamber off the yacht, the group splits up, Lexi and Sam going towards their car while you and Harry head towards his.

“Are you hungry, darling?” He ponders once you’re settled in the car.

“I mean a little bit, why?” You reach over to turn on the radio, letting the soft sounds of music play through the car.

“I saw this cute little diner when I was looking for you last night.” He says, handing you his phone. “Plug up the aux cord and play something from Spotify.”

You scroll through his spotify, seeing that his work out playlist is just One Direction songs. You almost snort, but don’t want to give away the song you’re going to choose.

After another moment of scrolling, you turn the volume on the speakers all the way up, clicking on “What Makes You Beautiful” and letting the opening chords play through the car.

He smirks, looking over at you. “I hope you know that you’re expected to scream this with me.”

Your features mirror his, “Oh, trust me, I planned on it.”

When you reach the diner, you see just how cute it really is. But then you realize that the two of you had been in the car for almost twenty minutes, which arguably isn’t a long time, but to walk this far it would have taken forever.

“H, you walked this far looking for me?” You ask, although you already know the answer.

“Yeah. Well, technically, I walked further.” He blushes at his words and your heart melts in your chest. You can’t help but feel a little guilty, though. It had been storming, full on thunder and lightning every few seconds. He could have gotten hurt, yet he put his safety to the side because he thought that you hadn’t come home yet. If only you had put aside your pettiness and just let everyone know that you had arrived home safely, he wouldn’t have had to walk out in the storm at all.

You walk into the diner, shaking the thoughts from your head. Harry leads you to a booth near the back, one that’s placed right next to a window with a wonderful view.

Moments after you’re settled into your seat, a waiter comes up to you and takes your order. You notice that he’s paying special attention to you, and it makes you slightly uncomfortable, so you turn to Harry after reciting your order. “What do you want, baby?”

He gives you a questioning look but ultimately goes along with it, not even missing a beat. He gives his order to the waiter and waits until he walks away to turn back to you. “What was that about?”

“He was staring at me, looking me up and down, it made me really uncomfortable.” You say, looking down at your hands. “Thought if he believed we were together that he’d stop, which he didn’t.” You scoff at the audacity of the waiter. “Sorry if I ended up just making you uncomfortable too.”

He reaches over the table, taking your hands in his. “Hey, it’s alright. I wasn’t uncomfortable, just took me by surprise, is all.” He gives your hands a gentle squeeze. “If he comes back over and makes eyes at you, I’ll put him in his place, okay?”

You chuckle, nodding at him. Hopefully, the waiter would get caught up with other customers or would learn some manners so that he didn’t say anything, but either way, you knew you’d be okay.

“So, anyways, how can you be so bad at driving the yacht? It’s just a boat.” Harry asks, obviously trying to hold in a laugh.

“It’s really not that hard to be bad at it.” You defend. “I know plenty of people that can’t drive a boat.”

“Have they ever tried?” His eyebrows raise.

“No.” You mumble, flicking your eyes from his gaze.

“Well that explains that.” He pauses until you meet his gaze again. “No, but seriously, it’s way easier to drive than a car.”

You clear your throat. “I’m not that good at that either, H.”

“Really?” He looks embarrassed, sorry to have pushed you, like he was worried that he had gone too far.

You really didn’t mind, though, it’s not something you’re ashamed of, you just don’t really like driving. “Really. Ever noticed how I don’t drive anywhere?”

His eyes widen in realization. “Yeah, actually. If nobody else is available, I used to drive you places.”

“Yeah, well, that’s because I suck at driving.” You say, looking down at your hands, which you realize are still being held by his. “I just feel more comfortable with other people driving me around.”

You feel him squeeze your hands again, the rings biting into your skin slightly. “I thought maybe you just didn’t have a car.”

Your head snaps up, eyes meeting his. You flash him a dirty look and go to pull your hands from his. Before you can, though, he squeezes tighter, making you stop for a moment.

“Not like that! It’s just that everything you do is in close proximity to your house.” Your hateful look subsides. You had seemed to forget for a moment that you weren’t enemies anymore. You were… friends? “There’s not really a need for you to have a car unless you were to drive somewhere far away, but usually that’s only for work and you fly.” He continues.

“Well, yeah, that’s true. But I do have a car, I just prefer not to drive it myself.” He nods his head, seeming to understand enough to let it slide.

You fall into a comfortable silence, his hands still clutching yours. You let your eyes scan over his face before wandering back to his seafoam green eyes. God, his eyes are beautiful. Everything about him is beautiful, honestly.

You’re broken out of your examination of him by the waiter coming back with your food and beverage choices. He sits Harry’s down first, and then places yours down. He doesn’t look at Harry again, just looking at you as he asks if there’s anything else that’s needed. You see his eyes trail downwards, and you give Harry’s hand a squeeze, causing him to clear his throat at the manager.

“Excuse me, sir?” This catches the waiter’s attention, making him turn back to Harry. “Could you maybe not eye fuck my girlfriend right in front of me?”

The waiter balks at him, and then tries to deny it. “I- I wasn’t!”

“Let’s not lie about it, you definitely were.” His voice is raspy and it makes your heart rate pick up. “And you were making her uncomfortable, so how about you explain to one of your coworkers why you need to switch them tables, yeah?”

The waiter just nods, walking away without so much as a glance back.

“Thank you, H.” He doesn’t reply, just squeezes your hands to let you know you’re alright. He lets go to eat, but you can see the way that his jaw is clenched.

“Hey, what’s up, you’re tense.” You try to meet his eyes, but he won’t look at you.

“I just don’t like the way he was looking at you.” He mumbles.

You make the split second decision to walk over to his side of the booth and slide in next to him. He immediately makes room for you, lifting up his arm so you can crawl into his side.

“I’m alright, you know. I just don’t like being looked at like an object.” You whisper into his side.

“I know, love. I know you’re alright, you’re strong.” He squeezes you closer to him and you feel a smile come to your face. “And I don’t like it either. I’ll punch him next time he looks at you like that.”

You reach up and run your hand through his hair, smiling at him. He leans into your touch, and that’s when you realize just how close you are. He’s got you pulled into his side, one of your thighs is slung over his, and your faces are what seems to be only a few millimeters apart.

Every part of you wants to close the difference, to press your lips to his. Every fiber of your being wants to know what his lips feel like, wants to know how they taste. You don’t lean in, though, not wanting to ruin what the two of you have going on.

You look back down, pulling your food over to you and finishing your meal.

After the check is paid, he drives you home, the only sounds in the car being the radio and the tap of his fingers against the steering wheel.

The next day flows by smoothly, everyone just chilling on the yacht and going for a swim.

When you get back to the house that night, though, Sam and Lexi come to your room to tell you that they’ll be leaving early, babbling on about some really good sale on jeans or something. They ask if you want to go with them but you politely decline, having absolutely no interest in jeans that, even when on sale, probably cost thousands of dollars.

They bid you a goodnight and let you know that they’ll be leaving early in the morning, most likely before you get up.

You wish them a safe trip and then roll over in bed, thinking about what this would mean. It would just be you and Harry for a few days. Would you spend a bunch of time together? Would you even talk that much?

You don’t know how to spend that much alone time with Harry, mostly because you’ve only been close enough to spend any amount of time with him for a few days.

You’re anxious, probably more than you have been in a while. You can feel your hands sweating and your breath getting caught in your throat.

Suddenly, a knock comes at your door and you immediately yell, “Come in!”

You expect it to be Lexi or Sam, but it’s Harry.

“Hey, don't you mind if I hang with you?” He asks, fiddling with his fingers. “I’m kinda bored, plus the other night I saw that mini puzzle you brought so I was thinking maybe we could do that?”

You smile at his observational skills. “Yeah, it’s no problem. Come on, I’ll get the puzzle.”

You walk over to the carry on that you had packed and grabbed the puzzle. It’s only a hundred pieces, but each one is so small and oddly shaped that you had never been able to get the placement right. You had figured you’d try to do so on this trip, but you hadn’t seemed to have the time.

You trudge back over to the bed, sitting down a piece of cardboard that you had found in a storage closet when exploring the closet a few days prior, and spread out the pieces.

You immediately get to work, him doing the same. Every time he would reach to grab a piece, his rings clack together, and you can’t help but gaze at them. You love the way that the rings look on him.

He looks over at you, catching you staring at his hands. He chuckles, before hopping off the bed, seeming to remember something.

“I’ll be right back.” He promises, not waiting for your response before coming back with one hand behind his back.

“Hold out your hand.” He demands, and you do so, holding out your right hand. “No, no, palm side down.” You flip your hand over and then he slides a ring onto your right hand.

After it’s placed on your hand, you look down, realizing that it’s a replica of his rose ring, but this one actually fits you, which means that he would have to have bought it specifically for you.

You can feel your chest tightening and your eyes begin to get a little blurry. His gesture is so cute and all you want to do is wrap him up in your arms.

“H, when did you even get this?” You say, gesturing to the ring.

“The other day after everyone went to bed, I drove to London and got it.” He says, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly. “I saw you looking at it the other day, figured I’d get one that would fit you so that we could match.”

“Thank you, H. That’s so sweet of you.” You wrap your arms around him, and without thinking, you crawl into his lap, straddling him. “How do you even think of things like this?”

He doesn’t say anything about the way that you're sitting, just wraps his arms around your back and pulls you impossibly closer.

“When I’m not pretending to hate people, I’m actually pretty smart.” he chuckles, and you can feel the vibration of the action throughout your body.

“Don’t get too ahead of yourself, Styles.” You mumble into his neck. “You’re still an idiot.”

“Hey!” He whines, pushing you off of him only to tackle you into the mattress, tucking his head into the crook of your neck.

Subconsciously, you raise your hand up, digging into his hair and beginning to play with it. Neither of you say anything, just enjoying each other’s presence. After a while, you start to feel Harry getting heavier and heavier, his breathing getting more even.

You try to stay in that position, loving the feeling of him wrapped up on you, but he’s a lot bigger than you and all the muscle he’s put on makes him a lot heavier than you can handle, the weight being too much on your chest and making you feel like you can’t breathe.

You roll him off of you, trying to be as gentle as possible so that you don’t wake him up, but you fail epicly. The second that you’ve got him completely off of you, he grabs your waist, pulling you over to lay on him like he was on you moments prior. Your legs are tucked between his, your face pressed into his neck. His warmth is radiating into your skin and his scent is swirling around you.

“Night, love.” He mumbles, angling his face down to kiss the top of your head.

“Night, H.” You murmur back, pulling the blanket over the two of you.

You focus on the way that his chest feels rising and falling underneath yours. You can feel his heartbeat, the way that it seems to be slightly faster than usual. You don’t think too much of it, though, he’s probably just hot.

Slowly, your thoughts begin to slow down, the prospect of a good night’s sleep pulling you further and further under until you’re dreaming about Harry.

When you wake up the next morning, you’re sweating. At first, you don’t think much of it, you were sandwiched between Harry and a wool blanket, after all. But then you realize that there’s something off with the way that Harry feels.

He’s radiating more heat than he normally does, which is already more than most people do.

You’re worried that he could be sick, so you scurry to the bathroom to find the thermometer that you saw when you first started staying in the house.

You make quick work of cleaning it off with an alcohol wipe, not wanting to risk him getting anything worse than he possibly already could have.

You shake him awake, ignoring his groans of protest, and make him put the thermometer under his tongue. You press the button and wait for it to beep, signifying that it’s done.

You feel like you’re going to be sick when you look at the digital number that’s being presented to you. 102 degrees. That’s not ideal.

“Hospital, H. Now.” You demand, not giving any room to argue on this. There’s no way that you’re going to let him lay in bed with a fever when you don’t even know what’s causing it. Maybe some people would, but you refuse. There are countless reasons why he could have this high of a fever, and each of them had different recommended treatments. You weren’t going to risk it and treat him for the wrong thing, only to make something worse.

He grumbles a “no” and you shake your head. Of course he would fight you on this.

“I’m not risking your life, H. Get the fuck up.” You wait for a moment, watching him shake his head no again. Once you know he won’t get up, you wrap your forearms underneath his arms and lift, dragging his lanky figure out of bed.

Once he’s completely off the bed and standing next to you, you lift his arm, wrapping it around your shoulders so that you can support his weight. You grunt from the added stress on your shoulders.

You begin to make your way out to the car, making sure to stop on the way out the door to grab the keys from the hook and a water bottle from the fridge for him.

You unlock his car and all but shove him into the passenger seat, leaning across him and buckling his seatbelt for him.

Once that’s completed, you rush around the car and slip into the driver’s side, buckling your own seatbelt before inserting the key in the ignition and turning the car on.

“You hate driving, you can’t get me there.” He tries to argue, and you just laugh.

“You couldn’t drive even if you wanted to. Plus, I can get you there. I’ll be fine.” There’s no way that you were going to chicken out of this. Sure, you hated driving, but you hated the idea of something happening to him even more.

“No, y/n, it’s fine, if you don’t like driving you shouldn’t have to drive me.” The fact that he’s thinking of you right now, of all times, makes your heart rate quicken. How was he always so sweet? “I’ll be alright. I’ll just sweat it out.”

“No, Harry, you will not just sweat it out.” You say, rubbing a hand over your face. “You could die if it gets too much worse. There could be something seriously wrong. And you’re probably like this because you went out in the rain looking for me.” Sure, it’s been a few days, but that doesn’t mean that it wasn’t from that. The symptoms could have just not been showing up until now. “And trust me when I say that I am most definitely not letting you die.” You give him a look when he starts to protest again.

The drive to the hospital is shaky. There’s a few times where you think you’re going to freak out, but each time, Harry reaches his hand over and squeezes your knee in reassurance and you instantly feel your breathing even out again.

Thankfully, you make it there safely. Throughout the trip he had drank the entire water bottle and he seemed to be more alert than he was when you woke him up. You still come over to his side of the car and help him hobble into the hospital, though, not wanting him to accidentally fall and break anything.

You sit him down in one of the chairs and walk to the counter to check him in. You come back with the paperwork that the lady handed you, and you’re surprised to know that you know the majority of the answers. You only have to pester him when you get to the section about his family’s medical history and when you need him to sign the paperwork.

You quickly go back to the counter to give her the pages back. She smiles and assures you that she’ll get everything entered and that the doctor will be right with him.

The doctor comes out and calls his name. He takes one glance in her direction and then grabs your hand. “Y/N, can you come back with me?” He gives you the best puppy dog eyes that he can manage.

You chuckle, agreeing immediately. How could you ever say no to that face?

Once you get to the room that the doctor led you too, she begins to ask a few questions. After answering them, she takes Harry’s temperature, the thermometer that she uses reading the same as the one at the house did. She decided to do a few tests, some of which nearly make Harry throw up, and then comes back with the results a little while later.

“It seems like he has the flu. Nothing too serious as of right now, though. I’ll give you a prescription to get filled for him since it doesn’t seem like he’ll be doing much for himself until his fever goes down, at least.

You smile, thanking her for letting you know, and gather Harry and the prescription paper. On the way back to the house, you drop off the prescription and wait for it to be filled.

“Can I go in and get some candy?” He asks as you get out of the car to go pick up the medicine.

“No, H,” You see him pout at you, so you quickly continue, “but I can go in and get it for you.”

The smile that he gives you makes your world slow. All you want to do for the remainder of time is just make him smile and bask in the light that it gives off. But you can’t focus on that right now, you have to go in and get his candy and his medicine and then get him back home.

He tells you what he wants, whining about how it’s his absolute favorite candy. You go buy it for him, deciding to get a few of them so that he’ll have some for later, hopefully for when after he feels better. You also get him another water bottle, knowing that he’ll have to take his medicine once you get back to the car.

You quickly go to the counter, giving them his information and then walking back out to the car.

After paying for everything, you rush back to the car and give him his medicine. After he’s taken it, he begins to munch on his candy as you drive the both of you back to the rental.

Once you reach the rental, the ride back goes much smoother than the one there, you take him back to your room and lay him on the bed.

“I can’t sleep in here.” You frown, wondering why he’s had the sudden change of heart. “You’ll get the flu too.”

You roll your eyes at him. “I’ve slept in the same bed as you already.” You sit on the bed next to him, reaching up and combing your hair through the sweaty tendrils. “I literally woke up on top of you, if I’m going to get it, I’ll get it whether you sleep in here tonight or not.”

He grumbles, but ultimately doesn’t put up that big of a fight, knowing that if he doesn, he’ll lose.

“Do you wanna take a shower?” You mumble, still letting your digits card through his hair.

“Are you trying to tell me I stink?” He tries to laugh but it comes out more as a cough and you can’t help but want to wrap him up in your arms and take any and all of the pain that he could be feeling away.

“No, you actually smell really good for being sick, but you have a lot of dried sweat on you from your fever.” You smile down at him, seeing him give you a lazy, lopsided grin in return.

“Can I take a bath?” He asks, eyes lighting up at the prospect of being able to sit down but still get the sweat off of him.

“Yeah, that’ll work, bubs.” You don’t even think about the pet name until it slips out of your mouth. You want to take it back, scared that he’ll hate it.

All your worries, along with any trace of regret, washes away when you see his smile grow, the dimples popping deep into his cheeks.

“If I put bubbles in the water so that you can’t see anything, will you wash my hair?” He questions, and there’s no way that you’re going to say no to him. And you realize that it’s not just because he’s sick. It’s because it’s just so easy to give into him, to want to give him everything that he asks for, just about no matter what it is.

You’re not going to let him know just how easily that you want to agree with him, though, so you drag it out just a little longer. :You’re really milking this for all it’s worth aren’t you?”

“I mean, I guess. I don’t know.” He sighs, looking like he’s trying to find the right words. You stay quiet, waiting for him to find the ones that he’s searching for. “I just really like it when you play with my hair, and I’m assuming that it’ll feel even better if you were to wash my hair.” His cheeks flush crimson. “Just really like having your hands in my hair, I guess.”

You feel like you’re going to explode with the overflow of emotions that you’re currently experiencing, so you decide not to drag it out any more than you already have, knowing that you’ll regret it if you do. “Fine, yeah, H. I’ll wash your hair for you.”

The way that his eyes light up makes it all the more worth it. You’d do anything to see him have that look on his face more often. You used to see a lot more of that, before things started happening that scared him. You found yourself wishing, more often than not, that he had never had someone find his address, and that he had never had people hold him at knife point. He had been slightly less open after that, kind of like he didn’t trust that many people anymore. And, even though you hadn’t admitted it since you were pretending to hate everything about him, you had missed the way that his eyes would sparkle at the simplest things, and how he would be the first to jump at the idea of a night out.

“Thank you!” He lunges up from his spot on the bed to hug you, wrapping you in his arms and not letting go for a moment.

After letting him keep you in his embrace for what you deem is long enough, you push him towards the bathroom.

“Go get the bath ready, I’ll go get you some clothes.” You nudge him, but then realize something. Before you walk out, you take his hands in yours, sliding his rings off this nimble fingers one by one until they’re all in your palms. “I’ll take these to your room and put them up, alright?”

“Yeah, do you still have yours?” You nod, pointing to the rose ring on the dresser, sitting right next to his Cartier ring on the chain. He smiles, then waddles into the bathroom.

You make your way to his room and rifle through his suitcase, trying to find something that isn’t another pair of sweatpants or swimming trunks. You want him to be comfortable but not too hot, and you don’t know if he’d be comfortable in just boxers.

You end up finding a pair of shorts at the very bottom. You grab those and some boxers, along with a hoodie of his for yourself, before heading back to your room.

You don’t hear the water running when you enter/ “Are you ready, H?”

“Yeah, you’re good!” You slip on the hoodie before entering the bathroom. You place his clothes on the counter, out of the way from everything, and come sit on the floor next to the tub.

The water and the bubbles come up to the bottom of his butterfly tattoo. You trace it with your eyes, and before you can even think about what in the world you’re doing, your hand is reaching out to trace it. You stop yourself halfway there and look up at him, your cheeks aflame.

“Go ahead.” He urges. “You can touch.”

You let your hand travel the distance to his abdomen. You begin to trace the lines of the butterfly. The wings, the patterns, the antenna. You can feel the muscles in his stomach clench as you venture towards the bottom of the wings, so you travel back upwards with your hand.

After you finish tracing what seems to be every line in the tattoo, you look up at him, slowly moving your hand north, but stopping slightly above the butterfly. Once he gives his nod of approval, you move up to the swallows, loving how they look on him.

Before you’re even done with those, he nods again, urging you to continue. So, you do just that, tracing the lettering on his body and moving down his arm to run over the ship, the rose, the hands. You trace everything that you can, ending at the little cross tattooed on his hand.

“You missed a few.” He rasps, and you quirk your brow in confusion. The only ones that you know of that could have been missed are the ones submerged under the water.

He doesn’t say anything, just lifts up his arm to show you the tattoos. You immediately reach back out, tracing over the bird cage and the masks, along with the lettering there. You can feel his body shiver at your touch, and you can’t help but mimic the action. The feeling of his skin under your own is electrifying.

“They’re all so beautiful, H.” You whisper, not completely trusting your voice yet.

“Thank you.” His voice isn’t much higher than yours.

You shake your head, trying to rid your head of the thoughts of him. You clear your throat and reach for the shampoo bottle. You pour a generous amount into your hand and begin to lather it into his hair, massaging his scalp with your fingers as you do so.

He lets out a sound that’s a mix between a pleased sigh and a moan and you almost choke on the air that you’re filling your lungs with.

“Feels so good.” He mumbles, letting his eyes slip shut. You can’t help but smile at him, the way that he looks so peaceful, so relaxed and utterly himself that all you can do is grin at him.

“Does it?” You inquire, knowing for a fact that it does, just wanting to keep the conversation going for a little longer. There’s something about the raspiness in his voice that makes you never want to stop hearing it.

“Yeah, feels better than just about anything else I’ve ever experienced.” This time, he lets out a groan that’s so close to a growl that you have to take a moment to breathe.

“I’m glad.” You all but squeak.

After you rinse his hair out and begin to apply the conditioner to his hair, he looks up at you. “Hey, mind if I tell you something?”

“Yeah, go ahead, bubs. You can tell me anything.”

He seems to mull it over in his head for a moment and then speaks up again. “Promise not to get weird or anything?”

You’re beginning to get slightly worried. Part of you is scared that he’s going to tell you that he killed someone and now he needs help hiding the body or something extreme like that. Although, if he asked, you definitely would help him, that’s just the kind of friend that you are. “Yeah, I promise.”

He looks up at you through his lashes, making sure that he’s holding eye contact with you. “I kinda, um, like you.”

You smile, he’s so dramatic for no reason. “I kinda like you, too. You’re not as awful as I thought you were.”

“Thank you, but that’s not really what I meant by that.” He has a slight grimace on his face, like he’s scared that what comes out of his mouth next will hurt him in some way.

“What did you mean then?” He still seems hesitant, scared even. “You can tell me, bubs. I don’t bite.”

He takes a deep breath, settling himself. “I meant, I have feelings. For you.” You feel like your heart stops. All the breath is sucked from your lungs. Harry Styles? Likes you? “I don’t know for sure when they turned from ‘oh, she’s pretty and seems sweet’ to ‘I Wish that she didn’t hate me so maybe I’d have a chance’, but they did.” You feel him reach out and take your hand in yours, and all the emotions running through your body threaten to spill out. “And, trust me, I know that I treated you like shit and I don’t deserve you or your love but I just had to tell you.”

“Are you telling me that Harry Styles has a crush on me?” You ask, slightly chuckling.

“If that’s what you wanna call it, yeah.” He says, cheeks getting more and more red by the second.

You shake your head, not wanting to get too excited. He had a fever. Fevers can cause confusion and can make people think things that they don’t mean. “You don’t mean that. You have a fever, you'll feel different when you wake up in the morning.”

His face falls, and you immediately want to take back what you said. “I promise you that I won’t.”

“How do you know that?” You don’t think you could just forget the words that he’s saying to you.

“Because I didn’t just start feeling this way.” Relief surges through your body, and you can feel the tears start to prick at your eyes.

“Really?” You really won’t be able to handle it if this is all a side effect of the fever.

“Really.” He assures, brushing his thumb in soothing circles on your hand.

“Well, lucky for you, I happen to understand why you acted like you did and I think that you deserve me. I’m the one that doesn’t deserve you.” You had never thought that Harry would like you as any more than a friend, even before you actually met. All your friends had told you that you guys would be great together, you just had to meet him. You always had your doubts, though.

He scoffs, “Yeah, alright, we can pretend that’s true. You’re literally perfect.”

Your heart expands at his words, how does he always seem to know exactly what to say? “So are you, H. I’ve seen it for a long time, just didn’t wanna be the girl that loved you even though you hated me.”

HIs eyes widen and a smile covers his face. “You love me?”

“I’m getting there.” You admit.

“Come here.” He gestures for you to get closer.

You scramble towards him, getting as close as possible without physically climbing into the tub.

He leans in, closing the gap between the two of you, letting his lips ghost over yours for a moment before you pull back.

“Let’s rinse out your hair and then finish up and I’ll kiss you for real, alright?” There’s no way that you’ll be able to kiss him the way that you want to while he’s still sitting in the bathtub.

He nods and lets you continue. You rinse the conditioner out of his hair, then get up to leave the bathroom so that he can get dressed. Before you can walk away though, he grabs your hand and pulls you back. He makes a kissy face and you lean down to peck his lips, knowing that he’ll just pout until you give in.

Moments after you exit the bathroom, he walks out looking completely perfect. You can see the tiger tattoo on his thigh, and you make the mental note to kiss over it later.

“Kissy?” He asks, coming towards you and wrapping his arms around your waist.

You sling your arms around his neck, slotting your hands into your hair. You nod, leaning in to kiss him, for real this time.

He wastes no time in kissing you back, this one holding a lot more passion than you ever thought a kiss could hold.

Your lips are molding with his, fitting together like they’re the missing piece that you needed to complete your puzzle.

His tongue slides over your bottom lip, asking permission, which you gladly give, opening your mouth and letting his tongue explore.

You pull away after a moment to catch your breath. Looking up at him, you see everything that you had been missing. “Promise me this doesn’t change when we go back to our real lives.”

He brings his hand up, cupping your cheek. You lean into your touch. “I promise you that, as long as you’ll have me,” he kisses your forehead, “I’ll always be right here to tell you that you’re beautiful,” your temples, “that you’re all I can think about.” your cheeks. “And, as long as you’ll let me, I’ll kiss you over and over again.” He finally lets his lips glide over yours again.

After he pulls away, you breathe, “Good, because I don;t think I’d be able to go back to normal after that.”

“Neither could I.” He assures you. “Come on, love, let’s go lay down.”

With that, you crawl into bed next to Harry, cuddling into his side. After a moment, he decides you're not close enough, pulling you in until your head is on his chest and your leg is thrown over his thighs.

You smile in content as he kisses your forehead. Who would have thought that you’d be in this place, with him? Never in a million years could you have dreamed this up for yourself. And honestly, if someone had told you a mere weeks ago that you would be kissing Harry and falling asleep next to him, you would have laughed in their face, probably even asked them if they had gone mental.

But now, here you were, laying cuddled up with the man that makes your entire world seem to light up, and you couldn’t be happier. It had been a rocky road getting here, but you would go through that day on the yacht a million times as long as you ended up back here, held tightly in his arms.

Listening to the beat of his heart, to the way that his breaths are evening out die to the comfort that having you near him brings, you drift off to sleep

You’re being shaken awake much too earlier, and you turn to gripe at whoever chose to wake you up. But then you realize that it’s Harry, and your face immediately softens.

“Hey, you.” He says, pecking your nose.

“Hey, why are we up so early?” You grumble.

He chuckles. “We’ve got a plane to catch.” You audibly groan, probably a lot more dramatic than it has to be. “Come on, it’s time to get out stuff together. Gotta go back to the real world.”

You sigh, not wanting to go, but you know that you have to, so you stumble out of bed and get all your stuff together.

You scramble to ensure that everything’s ready, even making sure that you clasp your new necklace on your neck and slide the new ring on your finger.

Once you zip up your bag and stand up, wracking your brain to make sure that everything is in order, Harry comes up behind you and wraps his arms around you. You immediately lean into his embrace.

“You look really fucking cute in my clothes.” He mumbles, pressing his face into your hair.

“Why thank you, never got your tour hoodie, thought I’d see how it looked.” You smirk, knowing that you had, in fact, received a tour hoodie, you just hadn’t worn it yet.

He says nothing about that, though, just groaning, “It looks fantastic.” before pushing away from your body.

“Are you ready?” He asks, looking over all the packed bags, and then over to you. HIs eyes stop at the ring around your neck, heart swelling in pride that you’re wearing his ring.

“Yeah, don’t wanna go, but I know I have to. I’ve gotta go back to work.” You groan.

“I meant what I said last night, you know?” He blurts, and you can’t help but feel relieved. He had been acting like he meant it, but the verbal confirmation made you feel even better.

“Which part?” You say, playing coy.

“All of it.” He promises. “Every single word.”

You hum in content, walking back into his arms and pressing into his chest. “I mean what I said too.”

You pull away after a moment, walking to pack your stuff into the car.

After dropping off the rental car and going through the motions of getting ready and boarding the plane, you finally sit down, right next to Harry. This time, though, you aren’t dreading the plane ride.

After the plane lands, Harry throws you his keys, telling you that Sam and Lexi were supposed to have dropped the car off with his extra set an hour prior. He assures you that he’ll get your luggage.

“I can tell you’re tired, sweets, go on to the car, okay?” You nod in agreement before heading out to the parking lot to find his car.

On the ride back to your apartment, you doze off in the passenger seat, his hand on your knee and fingers tracing random patterns lulling you to sleep.

He wakes you up by kissing all over your face, and you must admit that it’s probably the best way for someone to wake you up. Well, not just anyone, just him.

He gets your bags from the trunk, walking you to the door. As you’re about to go inside, he kisses your cheek, letting his mouth linger there for a moment. “Can I come over later? Gotta put up my stuff and check the mail, but I wanna see you again.”

You smile. You’d like to see him again, too. “Yeah, sure. Just come over whenever.”

He leans down and gives you a quick peck on the corner of your mouth before heading home.

In the time that you’re alone, you put everything away that you ended up not wearing and throw the dirty clothes in the wash.

As you’re fixing yourself dinner (which is arguably enough for two, but that’s just a coincidence...maybe), you hear a knock on your door.

You rush over, checking through the hole to make sure that it’s Harry. When you open the door, he immediately sweeps you up into a hug. “God, I missed you.”

“You were gone for less that three hours, H.” You breathe.

“I know, but I still missed you.” He pulls back from you slightly, still keeping his arms wrapped around your waist. “Am I not allowed to miss my girl?”

Your heart skips a beat. “Your girl?”

“Um, fuck, I- you don’t have to- don’t feel pressured.” You cut him off by placing your lips on his.

“Calm down, H.” You urge.

“It’s just, I don’t know, do you want to be my girlfriend?” He asks, eyes looking down between the two of you at his shoes.

“God, yes.” You clear your throat, realizing how desperate you probably sounded. “I mean, yeah. But I’m not gonna be able to be like all your other girlfriends were.”

“What do you mean by that?” He wonders.

“I can’t just drop everything and come with you while you’re on tour.” You give him an apologetic look. You know how much he loves having his girl with him while he’s performing. “I can’t go on excessive vacations with you, and by excessive I mean for months at a time. I don’t get paid to stand around and look pretty like the rest of them did.”

“I don’t want you to be like the rest of them were. I want you to be you.” He says, stroking your cheek with his hand. “Plus, I mean, you could technically come on tour with me as part of my crew if you wanted.” He suggests. “Be one of the photographers, or help me get everything ready. That could be your new job if you were interested.”

“Harry, I couldn’t ask you to do that.” You argue. “That’s just another person that’ll have to be paid. I didn’t do anything to get those positions anyway.” You know that all of the people on his crew were exceptionally talented, and that just wasn’t you.

“You let me see how wonderful you are at photography, that’s what you did.” You’re surprised that he remembers that. You had only shown him your work once. And it was the only time when the two of you were enemies that he didn’t have anything rude to say.

“H…” You’re still not sure about the idea. Of course, it would be fun, but you really have no business being there.

“Please? I don’t think I can go months on end without seeing you.” He whines. “I could barely go three hours.”

“Fine.” You give in. “But only if I get to stand in the audience and watch the show at least a couple times.” You had always wanted to see one of his shows from the audience, to see how well he interacted with everyone.

“Deal.” He says without hesitation.

“Alright, fine. I’ll go.” You concede. He does a mini celebration, shimmying his body slightly.

“You wanna go tell our friends after dinner, baby?” You suggest.

“Baby? I like it.” He says, blushing because of the pet name.

“I mean, you are my boyfriend now.” You reason, but also just liking the way that it sounds coming out of your mouth.

“That’s true, love. And yeah, let’s go tell our friends after dinner.” He leads you to the kitchen, fixing the both of you a plate and sitting down with you to eat.

After you clean up from dinner, you head out to the bar that your friends told you to meet them at.

You walk into the bar hand in hand with Harry. He sits in the booth first, dragging you in after him.

“Do you wanna tell them?” You lean in and whisper into Harry’s ear.

He just nods, turning to Lexi and Sam. “Um, guys, we’re kinda, um, dating.”

“Okay.” Sam says. Lexi nods, looking completely unfazed.

“What?” How are they being so calm about this?

“We figured it would happen. The chemistry between the two of you is impeccable. You had more passion towards each other when being dickheads than either of you have for anything else. It was just a matter of time.” Lexi explains, as if it’s completely obvious.

How they knew it was going to happen, you have no clue. You couldn’t even see yourself ending up with him. But maybe it was because you didn’t have the outside perspective.

A few months later, you’re on a tour bus to the first venue, and you can already feel the adrenaline running through your veins.

The very first show, you watch from the audience, taking in the scene. Seeing how his fans react, how he works the audience.It was good to study the subject before photographing them.

Also, though, getting to watch your man live his dream is pretty exhilarating. And getting to go along for the ride with him is even better.

Thank you for reading!! You can come discuss with me here!!

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daringyounggrayson · 3 years

Note

Could you do 25 or 30 for Bruce and Dick? I’d really like for you to make Bruce say those words to his son!

I think we would all like to see that! oh, and for this one, I’m mixing things up: Bruce took Dick in as his ward but never went on to adopt him.

25: “You know I love you, right?”

30: “I love you, okay? I’ll say it as many times as you need to hear it.”

AO3

"Mr. Wayne!” a photographer calls, waving his arm toward their small group as they try to make their way inside. “A picture of you and your sons, if you wouldn’t mind?”

“Sure!”

On cue, the four of them turn toward the camera with easy smiles.

“Oh, sorry sir.” The photographer directs this at Dick. “Could I just get his sons for this shot?”

Dick doesn’t blame the reporter, honestly. He was probably assigned to get pictures of the Waynes, and when you google the Waynes, Dick’s name doesn’t pop-up—at least, not under family. And it makes sense; he was never adopted, so he’s legally not part of the Wayne family. Dick’s relation is just a small, unimportant detail. And to outsiders, especially people outside of Gotham or people who simply don’t keep up with Wayne Family News, Dick looks like more of a family friend, if anything.

It’s an honest mistake, and Dick doesn’t take it personally. Unfortunately, that doesn't make it any less awkward.

Dick glances at Bruce, trying to decide what to do. This evening will be long enough as it is, and if Bruce would rather let it go and get through the photos as quickly as possible, Dick wouldn't blame him. And it’s not like Dick needs his face on another magazine.

Bruce tightens his hold on Dick’s shoulder, decision made.

“If you don’t mind,” Bruce pipes up with a charming voice, “I would like Richard to be in the photo. I did raise him for a decade, after all.” Bruce laughs to ease the tension, and Dick joins him to tell the photographer it’s okay.

The photographer’s eyes go wide, face going slightly pink. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize. I, er, here—” he holds the camera up “—smile!” The camera flashes twice. “Perfect. Have a nice evening!” And then the photographer is gone.

“I think I’m going to run ahead,” Dick says. “Find me when you can.”

“Dick, you don't—”

“It’s fine, B. Seriously.” Dick grins.

Bruce frowns.

Dick shrugs and ducks away from his group, heading toward the building. He ignores the flashing of cameras and calls from the various photographers, and he ignores the three pairs of eyes that dig into his back as he goes.

oOo

All in all, the party was uneventful and the four of them excused themselves early after receiving an alert that Scarecrow had been spotted on the other side of town. If Scarecrow hadn’t been spotted terrorizing civilians with fear gas, Dick might’ve been able to enjoy the free ticket out of the gala.

“Shit,” Tim mutters.

“What?” Dick asks, not taking his eyes off of Scarecrow.

“Forgot to grab a new rebreather. I still have the busted one from the other night.”

Dick pinches the bridge of his nose and takes a breath before grabbing his own rebreather. “Here.”

Tim pushes it back toward him, shaking his head. “It’s fine. I messed up; I can deal with the consequences.”

“I’m offering you the solution,” Dick insists, pushing back. “We don’t have time to argue. Take the rebreather so we can move in.”

“I’m not a kid anymore, I don’t need you to protect me like I’m,” Tim looks away, down, “like I’m Robin. Besides, I think we both know that I’ll be able to handle fear gas better than you.”

Dick clenches his jaw, then relaxes it. Not the time. “Maybe, but I’m in charge right now. So: take the rebreather or you’re playing look-out for the rest of the night.”

Tim’s head shoots up, eyes scanning Dick to see how serious he is. Tim takes the rebreather, shoving it into his belt. “Happy?”

“Thrilled. Let’s go.”

oOo

If anyone had to get gassed, Dick’s glad it was him. Even though he has an objectively bad reaction and treatment isn’t always effective, he has more experience and can deal with it better than his siblings. During and after. On top of that, Tim was and continues to be his responsibility; his top priority was getting Tim home safe. From those perspectives, it was logical for Dick to take the lungful of fear toxin.

Then there’s the selfish, probably more powerful perspective: Dick can’t stand seeing Tim on fear gas. The screaming, the tears, the things he says, the inability to comfort him and take the pain away. It’s awful to see once, and Dick’s seen it countless times, in real life and in nightmares. He’d do anything to avoid it—for Tim’s sake and, when Dick’s being honest, his own. He knows his family probably feels the same way about him, but that just means they’d act out of selfishness too.

Tonight, Dick had more say, so Tim got the rebreather and Dick got more than a lungful of gas.

“Sorry again,” Tim mumbles, passing Dick a fresh ice pack. “About the rebreather.”

Dick takes the ice pack and presses it against his right shoulder, which he agitated at some point during their fight with Scarecrow. “’S fine. Knowing you, you’ll triple check next time to make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

“No kidding,” Tim mumbles, running a hand through his hair. He stifles a yawn. “Need anything else?”

“Nah.” Dick starts reciting pi in his head, trying to drown out the voices he knows aren’t real. “Get some sleep. And good work tonight.”

Even with the gassing, he and Tim were able to take down Scarecrow fairly easily. It’s nice to know that the two of them can still work well together, even when the circumstances aren’t entirely ideal.

“Thanks, you too.” Tim bounces on the balls of his feet and fails to stifle another yawn. This time, Dick yawns too. “You don’t want company or anything?”

“I’m good. Besides, I’ll probably just try to sleep until Alfred is happy with the blood work.”

Tim shrugs and takes a few steps backward. “If you change your mind.”

“Night, Timmers.”

“Night.” Tim turns around and makes his exit.

Dick throws his good arm over his eyes and tries to sleep.

oOo

Unconsciousness comes in waves, broken by adrenaline spikes and Alfred or Bruce checking on him. But no matter his consciousness status, Dick’s reality is shadowed and manipulated by voices and figures, hallucinations and lies that feel like absolute truths. It’s hard to tell the difference between sleep and wakefulness, but the shaking is a good tell. He doesn’t usually shake in his nightmares.

He's in his room, lying in his bed and shaking. He doesn’t remember coming here, but that doesn’t say much. He’d been having a dream, something that felt real, but wrong. Something adjacent to reality.

A camera kept flashing in his face, the photographer morphing into something less and less human. And Bruce, Bruce had been there. Yelling at him, telling him to—

No. That hadn’t happened, and now that he’s awake, Dick can barely remember the lies.

Dick kicks at his sheets, trying to reach the cool air above them. At first it’s a relief, but soon it’s not enough because he’s hot and sweaty and something keeps telling him to run. He glances out the window, trying to figure out if he could survive the fall—

No. He’s fine. He’s fine.

Dick pushes himself upright, takes some deep breaths, tries to recite pi.

He jumps at the knock on his door.

“Dick?” the door creaks open to reveal Bruce, who enters the room before Dick can answer. “What are you still doing here?”

“I—” Dick feels hot, his palms are sweating again and he can feel his heart pounding against his chest, trying to escape. He blinks, twists the skin on his forearm until it hurts.

Bruce is in front of him, sitting down on the bed. “I trained you to be a detective. Can’t you piece together the clues? You’re not wanted. Get out of my house and stay away from my family.”

Dick shakes his head, fists his hair. The room feels like it’s getting smaller, twisted and darker. Louder. Wrong. This is a sign, but Dick can’t remember for what. “But you—no. You trusted me with Damian, you said—”

What had Bruce said? He’s a master manipulator when he wants to be, needs to be. He might’ve trusted him with Damian, or maybe, just maybe, he was only trying to protect Alfred in case Damian had been given orders to assassinate them. He’d already attacked Tim, after all, and keeping that fact in mind, Bruce would have needed to consider safety and who he’d be willing to lose in order to protect someone else. Dick’s death and its repercussions would have felt minuscule if it meant Alfred would be saved.

Hands tug at his wrists. It’s three fourteen. The voice is lying.

“Shh. Take a breath.” Dick tries, but it’s like his chest has stalled. “Tell me how many posters are in your room.”

“There’s—”

“Take them and go. I don’t want any trace of you left in this house.”

“Dick, you’re alright. Take a breath.” Hands are on Dick’s shoulders, trying to restrain him. He brushes them off, tries to get to the window. “I’m out of patience. I won’t be subtle any longer—I’ve regretted taking you in from the moment you moved in. Go!”

His fingers barely brush against the window’s lock before he’s slammed into the ground. His shoulder pops, making him grunt.

“You’re not thinking clearly. Focus. Wait it out.”

Dick struggles against the weight on top of him, but it doesn’t give, not even when he resorts to biting. The hands simply shift from his chest to his stomach, and his attacker doesn’t even make a sound.

The voices in his head build up. There are millions, all shouting conspiracies at him, all of them sounding too true. His heart pounds so hard that it must be bruising his chest, and he’s so hot that his brain must be about to melt. And, and—he can’t breathe. He can’t breathe. He’s going to die. This is it—he’s going to die.

A hand forces his head down, and it’s not until then that he realizes he’s been slamming it against the ground in an attempt to silence the voices.

“Shh, shh. You’re alright. I’ve got you.”

“Leave! Jump out the window, you’d be doing everyone a favor!”

Dick tries to lift his head again, but the hold is firm. There’s not enough room to hit it against the ground, there’s not enough room to shut the voices out.

“No one will miss you!”

The familiar feeling of a needle slides into his arm.

“Shh.”

Something happens. The room shifts, he shifts, and he realizes that he’s no longer shaking. It’s a sign.

The hallucinations shift into a nightmare that feels too real.

oOo

Dick wakes up to nausea and a headache. He tries to move his hand to rub at his head only to find that he’s been restrained. Bad night then.

He opens his eyes and turns his head. There’s an empty chair by his bed and the bedroom door is cracked open.

“Bruce,” he calls.

Damian steps into view, pushing the door open a little wider. The quick response tells Dick that Damian has been listening from the hallway. “Father is answering a call from Kent. Would you like me to collect him?”

"It can wait.”

Damian still hasn’t entered the room, and it makes Dick wonder how much he’d heard last night, how much last night has to do with the distance, the hesitance. He doesn’t remember seeing Damian at all, but he probably came back when Dick was still in the Cave. And even if they hadn’t seen each other, it’s not like Dick’s bedroom is soundproof.

“Everything okay, kiddo?” He can remember Bruce having a handful of especially bad reactions to fear gas from when Dick was a kid—they’d been terrifying, seeing Bruce like that had made them terrifying.

“Of course. You are the one who was incapacitated.” Damian tugs on the sleeve of his sweatshirt, pulling it halfway down his hand. “But you are alright now?”

Dick quirks his lips into a smile. “I’m fine.”

“Good. I imagine last night was quite difficult,” Damian begins. “Titus woke up several times.” Damian tugs on his sleeve again, he looks like he wants to ask something.

Damian’s head turns abruptly, and whatever he sees causes him to take a step back. Into the hallway, he says, “Richard is awake.”

Now that he’s paying attention, Dick can hear Bruce’s footsteps. Bruce pauses outside of Dick’s bedroom, and he and Damian exchange words in quiet voices that Dick can’t understand. Then Bruce steps inside and closes the door behind him.

“How are you feeling?” Bruce asks.

“Lucid,” Dick starts. Bruce tilts his head, expectant. “Not great overall, and I still feel a little on edge, but I think the worst of it is over.”

“Hnn.” Bruce looks him over for a moment, trying to confirm Dick’s self-evaluation. He must pass because soon Bruce is taking off the restraints.

“Did I . . .” Dick tries to think back to last night and work out what was nightmare and what was hallucination and what was reality. “Did I try to jump out a window last night?”

“Yes. I had to hold you down until a sedative was administered. After that, we decided it would be safer to use restraints until the toxin wore off.”

Dick sits up as the last of the restraints are removed. He stretches his ankles and wrists. “Did the antidote not work or something?”

“It either wore off early or the toxin was stronger than usual. Possibly both, considering how you reacted to additional doses,” Bruce explains.

Dick frowns. “How many doses did you give me?”

“Three. You probably won’t need a fourth, but we’ll check your blood in a few hours to make sure that the traces still in your system are gone, or at least decreasing.”

Dick groans and slides back down against his pillow, draping his arms over his face. The fear toxin antidote, while helpful, isn’t without side-effects. With three doses, those effects will stick around for days.

Bruce, the bastard, has the audacity to chuckle at him. Dick blindly throws a pillow at him, smiling when he hears it meet its target.

Then, “Are you hungry?”

“Not even a little.”

Bruce runs a hand through Dick’s hair. “Sleep.”

He doesn’t have to be told twice.

oOo

Dick wakes up alone again, but this time the chair is gone and the door is completely shut. It’s a good sign, and since Dick isn’t currently disoriented, very much preferred.

It’s much later in the day now, a little past noon, but he knows he could very easily close his eyes and sleep for another few hours. Possibly until the next morning. But to his misfortune, his stomach growls in protest.

With a dramatic sigh that no one can hear, he gets out of bed, quickly showers and dresses, and goes downstairs to find something to eat.

"I was just about to check on you," Alfred says when he spots him entering the kitchen. "How are you feeling?"

Dick shrugs. “Tired.” It’s a side-effect of the antidote, but the nightmares probably hadn’t helped. “Did you guys have lunch already?”

“It would seem that everyone has gotten a rather late start to the day. We were just about to settle in for a brunch of sorts.”

“Do you need help?” Dick asks.

Alfred points toward a tray of what looks like buckwheat pancakes. “If you could bring that tray into the dining room, please.”

Dick hums and grabs the tray, carrying it into the dining room with Alfred behind him. He’s just setting the tray down when Titus storms in, running into his legs with a force that threatens to knock him over.

He takes a step back with a small laugh, reaching down to pet Titus. His tail thumps against the ground as he takes a seat on top of Dick’s feet.

“Master Damian!” Alfred shouts, setting a bowl of fruit down on the table.

“What’s up with you, buddy?” Dick asks the dog as he bends down to pet him better. Titus doesn’t usually tackle him, especially not when they just saw each other the day before. “What’s goin’ on?”

Alfred tsks to the room at large.

“Yes, Pennyworth?” Damian asks when he eventually reaches the room.

“What have I told you about animals in the dining room, especially during meal times?”

Damian rolls his eyes, prompting another “Master Damian!” from Alfred. Dick almost laughs, but the adult in him tells him to stand up and keep his mouth shut.

“Titus, come,” Damian says.

Titus whines.

“Titus, come,” Damian repeats.

Titus obeys, tail low as Damian leads him out of the room.

“And please gather the others before returning.”

Damian mumbles something under his breath that Alfred claims to have heard. Despite the resistance, Tim comes into the room a minute later, so Damian must’ve done as Alfred asked.

“Morning,” Tim says. He juts his thumb toward the hall. “What’s Damian mad about?”

“Oh.” Dick huffs a small laugh. “Titus ran in here and Alfred kind of went off on him.”

“Ugh, and I missed it? Bummer.” Tim takes a seat next to him and steals a piece of fruit from the bowl. “Feeling any better? Bruce said you had a rough night.”

Sometimes a little fear toxin exposure can be so mundane and minuscule that it isn’t mentioned the following morning. Dick wishes this was one of those times.

“Yup.” Dick taps his fingers on the table. “What happened to your ankle? You didn’t report it last night.”

Tim looks down at the ACE bandage wrapped around his left foot. “Oh. Just an old injury that started acting up this morning. I can still kick your ass at sparring later, though.”

Dick snorts and grabs one of the buckwheat pancakes, deciding he can’t wait any longer. “You wish.”

oOo

Breakfast is uneventful, aside from Dick literally falling asleep on the table. Bruce shakes him awake after everyone’s finished eating and then drags Dick down to the Cave to check his blood levels. Titus joins them, pressing himself against Dick’s legs and nearly tripping him as they make their way down the Cave’s stairs.

One blood test later and they learn that the toxin levels haven’t budged. Bruce decides to give him another dose of the antidote.

“Fourth time’s the charm, right?” Dick says.

“Hnn.”

Bruce sets a timer on his phone, just like he used to do in the early days. Draw blood, antidote, set a timer, draw more blood. That had been the routine for so much of his life.

Although, Dick supposes, they hadn’t really had antidotes back then; they’d had attempts at treatments. Desperate attempts to manage symptoms. There was no testing to guarantee their effectiveness or safety, and their chemical makeup had been based purely on theory and desperation. It was better than nothing, but it was risky, so they took precautions: monitoring each other not only for effectiveness but also for the inevitable side effects.

Dick will never forget the time an “antidote” caused his throat to swell up and chest to stall. The timer had only had a minute left, too—they’d increased the time after that, and Dick hadn’t complained about having to wait the whole time for almost a year.

These days, monitoring isn’t always part of the routine, and when it is, it’s mostly to check for effectiveness. But since this is Dick’s fourth dose in a relatively short timeframe, his risk for adverse effects is higher and he needs to be monitored to make sure he doesn’t keel over. Bruce will probably force him to stay at the manor until all side effects of the treatment subside, longer if new side effects arise.

“Have you been able to get any restful sleep?”

Dick jerks as he’s pulled from his thoughts. “Uh,” he starts, needing a second to process what Bruce just said. “No. Not really, no.”

“Someone can patrol in Bludhaven while you recover.”

It’s an offer, Bruce trying to be helpful. Dick knows that, but something makes it feel like an order, proof that Bruce thinks he’s incompetent.

“I’m fine on my own.”

Funny how Dick’s still trying to prove that, after all these years. He remembers when he was eight and first moved in with Bruce, how he’d been adamant about not needing a parent, not needing Bruce, but he became attached anyway. He’d told himself Bruce was a want, not a need, but that hadn’t been true, not in the early days.

Then things shifted. He grew up and no longer needed Bruce, but he’d wanted him. Dick had lied to himself again, telling himself that Bruce was the last person he wanted. The lie was easier to believe on some days than on others, but it had been even harder to convince himself that Bruce felt the same way. That even if Bruce didn’t need Dick, he wanted him.

That feeling of uncertainty, insecurity, had been with Dick since he was a kid, and it had persisted and worsened as he’d gotten older. It had been exacerbated after Two-Face nearly killed him and Bruce promptly fired him from being Robin. He was twelve and lost back then, and in what he now knows was just his twisted, hurt kid-brain, he’d convinced himself that Bruce didn’t need nor want him, as Robin or anything else.

Back then, he’d been certain that pity and guilt were the only things stopping Bruce from tossing Dick out onto the streets. He’d felt like a burden, and he’d hated everything about his life in those moments. So, he’d done the only thing he could think of—he ran.

And Bruce—Bruce didn’t chase him.

That was—maybe is—the important bit, the part that Dick still thinks about. Not the initial rejection, not being fired—that Bruce didn’t come after him.

After all, that’s what he’d wanted, wasn’t it? For Bruce to prove him wrong, for Bruce to chase after him, fight for him. To want him.

Bruce fought for Jason, then for Tim and, eventually, Damian. It’s clear that they are and always will be wanted, and Dick knows it’s stupid, but he doesn’t always know if that’s true for himself. At the end of the day, his brothers all have Bruce’s name, and all Dick has is a man who stopped being his legal guardian when he turned eighteen.

Dick is useful, even needed on the rare occasion, but he’s not always sure that he’s wanted. And he desperately needs to be wanted.

“Something’s . . . bothering you.” Bruce’s brows are furrowed, searching Dick’s face and trying to find the clues that will tell him what went wrong and where.

Dick scratches behind Titus’s ears, looking at him instead of Bruce. “Just the toxin.”

“Hnn.” Bruce sits down next to Dick, grunting slightly as he settles. “I imagine that the photographer’s comments last night didn’t help.”

Sometimes Dick hates how well Bruce knows him.

“It wasn’t a big deal.”

“Maybe. But fear toxin twists things, and it’s been known to draw on recent events, especially the latest versions.”

Dick says nothing, just nods in acknowledgment as he attends to Titus.

“Dick, you are my family, in every sense of the word. And I . . . I was bothered by the comment last night that implied otherwise.”

Bruce reaches over and squeezes Dick’s knee, and Dick wonders how much he’d said last night when the fear toxin was in control.

“You know I love you, right?”

“Yeah, I know. It’s just—” Dick sighs, leans his head against Bruce’s shoulder, squeezes his eyes shut. “Sometimes I don’t.”

Bruce shifts. He cups the back of Dick’s head and pulls him toward his chest, pressing a kiss into his hair. “I love you, okay? And you are wanted here. So, so wanted.” Bruce holds him in a tight hug and traces circles into his hair. “I’ll say it as many times as you need to hear it.”

Dick hugs him back and nods into his chest. It doesn’t fix everything, but it makes it better. And sometimes that’s all anyone needs.

#dick grayson #bruce wayne #tim drake #damian wayne #nightwing #batman #red robin #robin #batfamily #fear toxin #elizabeth writes

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ginkgomoon · 3 years

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Gavin’s Chapter 26 Parallels- Analysis

This was in my drafts for the longest time, but now since new MLDD chapters are out (and with S2 coming), I thought I should finish this post.

I remember watching this chapter for the first time when it came out earlier this year, noticing parallels about Gavin’s time and behaviour displayed in the STF Observation Centre to other Gavin-related details.

Spoilers of Chapter 26 and future content below.

Gavin’s Encounter Summary

MC, with the help of Shaw and Litton, disguises herself as a man to enter the observation centre to find Gavin and clues about her lost Evol.

A device for Evol suppression is placed on every test subject in the centre, and she wonders the pain Gavin must be in.

MC, who? The name’s Mortimer Smith, ID number 134.

MC is placed with her roommate, another Evolver who lost control of their Evol around the TV tower incident.

He tells her, “as long as you don’t cause trouble and listen to the observers, you’ll get along okay.”

She tries to squeeze out some information about Gavin from him, but learns that it’ll be difficult since they don’t use names to address the Evolvers, but instead codes.

MC is summoned to "Evol examination" and MC has hope that she might see Gavin.

She walks down a long corridor with other Evolvers waiting to be examined.

She fails to notice a shadow in front and collides with a hard, sturdy chest.

Her foot slips and grabs onto the mysterious person’s arm as he holds onto her too.

She’s too embarrassed to look at his face.

She notes that the only thing in her vision was her trembling fingertips on his arms.

But without looking, she already knows the arms she’s in.

Emotions build up and she hears his heartbeat.

She grips his arms tighter as she begins to speak.

As the observers approach, Gavin finally looks up, his expression turning cold, and they are SHOOK.

He stares at MC for a long time then turns his head to walk on.

MC lets him walk past.

Her roommate looks at her in disbelief, surprised that she survived an encounter with “No.7" in one piece, thinking that she was “a goner for sure”.

She asks if they’re all afraid of him, to which he replies with a nod.

He says that No.7 is more terrifying than Observers themselves, but then retracts his statement.

Extra: So... has Gavin been having nightmares? :(

Observation Test Centre

The most obvious correlation from other chapters and mentions would be Gavin being named No.7 as his code name, as this number is always associated with him.

This analysis could just end here.

But wait- there's more.

High School

Said to be the “school tyrant” and seen as the outcast, Gavin chose to be misunderstood over conforming to rules- ones that he didn't agree with.

Gavin didn’t have friend groups like everyone else notably did (like MC and her group of friends as they walk down the hallways laughing as Gavin stares googly-eyed from a distance). He had stuck by himself and his own morals like a lone wolf (with his casual but not-so-casual buddy Minor).

MC's roommate: A lot of people that end up here all forms cliques to get along, but he’s always been a lone wolf. And he’s always dealt with anyone who crossed him. Just now you bumped right into him as if you were blind. I thought for sure you were going to get smacked...

Furthermore, Gavin was always the one to challenge authority, whether it would be school teachers or even his superiors later in life. MC stated that Gavin had once fought with a school teacher, but this was probably due to some misunderstanding or that they had existing prejudices against him.

“No.7! Why are you still standing there!?”

Observers continue to call out to him, but Gavin ignores them.

Gavin doesn’t fear that people won’t understand him- he knows that people don’t and won’t, which is also a contributing factor to why he doesn't feel the need to explain himself or his actions to anyone.

But this also is why he also had a rough journey from rightfully staying true to himself. Without any real support system within and outside of school life, Gavin suffered. Luckily, there was Mr Keller who was willing to listen to him. He told Gavin, “since you can’t change what others think of you, you might as well just listen to your heart". This had a great impact on him.

Additionally, Gavin fears for an entirely different reason. In fact, Gavin understands this sort of fear more than MC realises. Gavin was even more willing to throw himself into this mission when MC was gone because he really had no choice but to continue without her by his side. In Perilous Date, MC and Gavin talk about this its the closing moments.

MC: Gavin, you could be in danger at any time... Do you think it's worth it?

Gavin: I never thought about it... What if I say it's my destiny? Would you believe me? Don't worry. I won't put myself in harm's way again. Seeing you cry is just not worth it.

MC: Aren't you scared?

Gavin: I was never scared before when it was just me. But now... I am.

(Meanwhile MC now in the chapter: *crying*)

MC had kept him moving forward- to become stronger with his goal of protecting her, influenced by his father into joining special training in CN Tilted Time R&S. His father used MC again for Gavin to undergo modification to make his Evol stronger in Chapter 15.

Here’s an extra line that caught my eye:

He stares at MC for a long time then turns his head to walk on. She lets him walk past.

Parallels with their high school moments:

Gavin leans against a tree as he watches MC hurry down the corridor as she clutches a textbook. -[Boundary R&S]

Special Task Force

Gavin had returned to Loveland City as Special Agent B-7 to find MC at the very beginning.

Even now stripped of his STF title as Captain, he still embodies justice. With his current knowledge of the identities of Evol criminals, he’s even able to find and make good use of them as a distraction in the Observation Centre.

Gavin’s unapproachability and cold exterior are also highlighted.

MC's roommate: Just now you bumped right into him as if you were blind. I thought for sure you were going to get smacked...

But for MC, he learns from her how to live a more tender life [Spring Festival Date]. For her, he’d live. He’d also help her do anything just so that she wouldn’t have to shoulder anything- even the bare minimum alone. But he hadn’t reflected this upon himself to change- notably seen in Chapter 12-6.

MC: He wasn't like that before when he was with the squad?

Eli shook his head. He opened his phone and brought up a picture, handing it to me.

Eli: He was always like this before.

Gavin's face in the photo was a little immature. Wearing his military uniform, even though he was saluting, there was still an unmistakable look of proud aloofness and unruliness.

New Weapons

After leaving STF, Gavin’s newly appointed code name was NW717. He was able to gain new Evol power by undergoing remodelling experiments. Under NW orders, he snuck into the Observation Centre to find MC, believing that the Evolution Accelerator could lead to some clues.

And no matter what organisation Gavin's under, he’ll always find his way back to her.

This photograph has already turned slightly yellow and has a pretty-looking girl on it. After a while of thinking, I place the photograph next to Gavin’s pillow. Perhaps this way, he can have a good dream. -[CN NW Project R&S]

Emerging from NW, people still were terrified of Gavin, mostly because of his cold aura and powerful Evol, despite his good intentions and his attitudes towards justice. But to MC, he will always Gavin, despite seeming cold and unapproachable to others with this persona. He knows that she’s the one who knows the softer side of him, as the one who he feels is worthy of explaining himself to.

Gavin: You’re the only one I care about, other people’s opinions don’t concern me. -[Go See Him, NW Uniform]

Heart-wrenching reunion after 6+ months of being deprived of each other:

MC: Ga-

Observers: No.7! Why are you still standing there!?

They continue to call out to him, but Gavin ignores them.

He is stunned, his amber eyes freeze then flash with a knowing glimmer. He looks straight at her, his eyes gently caressing her.

Gavin super softly: Don’t cry.

Me: *cries*

Bonus: Gavin's Weibo has 7 beside his name! Additionally, his number in the motorcycle race on the latest date is 7, with his bike having written "B7" and "B7..." displayed.

#MR KELLER #THE DREAMIEST #I love how my format changes every time #mlqc gavin #恋与制作人 #love and producer #mlqc #mr love queens choice #mlqc analysis #mlqc en

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goldenretriever-nicknelson · 3 years

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Pieces of us [H.O]

A/n: Happy Valentine’s Day! I was determined to finish a fic for today and even though it’s super late I did it!! This idea was given to me by the lovely @glowunderthemoon about a year ago now and I finally got around to writing it. Thank you for the idea Fay and I really hope you and everyone else likes it!

Warnings: tooth-rotting fluff, unedited writing

WC: 2.4k

Your heart was drumming in anticipation, fingers tapping on your leg as you waited for your phone to buzz. You gave another look in the mirror and tried to occupy yourself even though you had been ready for the past 15 minutes. Your dress was perfect, hair styled to match and makeup complimenting everything nicely.

A few years ago when you were single you might’ve hated Valentine’s day but your boyfriend always made you feel the most special on his favourite holiday. He always spoilt you with flowers and cheesy gifts. Suddenly the day didn’t seem that bad anymore.

Unfortunately, you had to work this Valentine’s day which meant missing out on most of the day with Harrison. He still made you breakfast in bed and sent you cheesy texts but you were sad you couldn’t spend the day cuddled up and watching sappy movies with him. It saddened you even more when you came home and to an empty apartment but the moment you saw the cute note and the chocolates, you knew Harrison had something up his sleeve. You had smiled as soon as you saw the dress laid out on the bed, knowing it was your boyfriend's favourite. The little note attached told you to get ready for a date so you did but you hadn’t expected Haz to make you wait so long.

Just as you were straightening down your dress for the fifth time, your phone buzzed on the table. You rushed to look at it, smiling as you saw a text from Harrison but your expression soon fell into confusion as you read it.

My darling, tonight is no ordinary date. It’s been a whole year of us and it’s been the best year of my life. Start by looking at the place where I first said those three little words.

You furrowed your brow and gave a small laugh, knowing your boyfriend was up to something. You thought back to when he had first told you he loved you and knew to look around the couch.

It had been one of your classic movie nights; popcorn, drinks and a movie that you never paid much attention to. His lips were on yours, his arms around your waist as he held you in his arms before he whispered those three little words against your lips. He almost apologised, thinking it was too soon before you shut him up with a kiss and repeated those words back to him.

You smiled at the memory before finding a photograph on the cushion. It was one of the first you and Harrison had taken together, smiling cheekily into the camera with his hand wrapped around you. You remembered thinking about how cocky (and cute) he was that night when you went on a night out with him and your mutual friends. He was even cuter drunk.

The photo made your heart race faster but did nothing to ease your confusion.

On the back of the photo there was writing, scrawled out in Haz’s messy writing it read: Being with you is the easiest thing in the world and nothing, no one makes me happier. So for your second clue, remember when I stepped on your shoe.

You laughed out loud and paused in confusion, trying to figure out his riddle before realising there was something else written at the very bottom in small print. The title of yours and Haz’s song. The one that always made you smile when you heard it because it made you think of him. And then suddenly it clicked.

You remembered how it had become your song. It was midnight and you felt exhausted as you looked around at the messy kitchen, boxes and bags were everywhere. Haz carried in the last box and set it on the floor before leaning against the counter next to you.

There wasn’t much in your new kitchen besides what was already there and an old portable radio. Haz turned it on to a random station and Just the way you are by Bruno Mars started playing. He smiled and took your hand, pulling you into the only clear space in the room and starting to dance with you.

Suddenly you didn’t care how tired you were or what time it was, all that mattered was Haz and this new life you were starting together. He twirled you around making you both burst into laughter as he accidentally stood on your toes. It was one of the best nights ever.

You hurried to the kitchen and looked around, noticing a single rose on the countertop next to a picture of you and Harrison kissing on a beach. You smiled wide as you remembered the day, it was your first weekend away together and Harrison had whisked you away to a tropical sandy beach, staying in a cosy beach house. You didn’t get much done that weekend but it was still one of the best of your life.

You looked at the photo before turning it over and reading Haz’s writing: The views that weekend were nothing compared to the view I had in the bedroom ;) It was the best vacation and now for the third location. Outside is where you should go, specifically where I first kissed you slow.

Your first kiss, of course. You let out a giggle and took the rose, smelling it’s sweet scent before grabbing a coat and heading outside, following your instructions. Harrison had first kissed you on your first date, you still remember feeling his lips against yours for the first time, a feeling you would never tire of.

You arrived at the arcade and looked around, so many memories flooding back to you. It had been too long since you’d come back here. The place was fairly empty apart from a few couples playing games together and a group of friends cheering loudly as someone got a high score on the dance dance revolution game. Haz had fallen over twice on that game but his true skill was air hockey and he got so competitive when you both played that night.

He’d even won you a teddy bear with his tickets from the games and that’s when he’d took his chance to make his move and kissed you. It had caught you by surprise but you were soon locking lips with him and holding him close in the middle of the arcade, without a care in the world.

You found a bear similar to the one you still kept at home sitting on the air hockey table and your heart melted that Haz had remembered. It held a heart saying ‘being mine’ with a photo attached to it. The photo this time showed you and Harrison kissing when you were both drunk, a memory one of your friends had captured. You giggled and flipped it over to read the clue.

For your fourth and final clue, look for where we first met as two.

A smile lifted on your lips as you remembered in an instant the location you needed to go to. You tucked the photo in the pocket of your jacket along with the others and thought about the time you had been with Haz and of the photos that signified your relationship. Of course there were many more than just the ones in your pocket but Haz had picked these ones for a reason.

You drove to the park nearby where you had first met your boyfriend. It was a late autumn afternoon, the leaves crunching underneath your feet as your dog led the charge and sniffed at the beautiful scent of nature that surrounded them. You were wrapped up in the same coat you were wearing now with a hot drink from your favourite cafe that spread warmth to your hands. You furrowed your brow as your dog started barking and pulled you along at a faster pace to go and sniff another dog who was barking back at them.

The dog was beautiful and once they met in the middle, having dragged both owners along, they started to nuzzle into each other and lick. You giggled and sipped your drink before looking up at the owner hoping to share the humor and make a witty joke about puppy love but instead you almost choked. The owner of the beautiful dog was even more astounding. He had sandy blonde curls and blue eyes that caught you off guard as they matched the sky above.

“Talk about puppy love huh?” He commented, a cup similar to yours in his hands as he smiled at you and for a moment you forgot what air was.

“Hey that was my joke.” You giggled as he laughed and apologised. The conversation after that continued to flow easily and whilst normally you hated meeting strangers, you had to admit that handsome tall blonde guy wasn’t so bad. Even after you learnt his name and swapped numbers, that was still his contact name which he never missed an opportunity to tease you about. You met up after that under the excuse of more puppy play dates before the dogs weren’t the only ones going out on dates and the rest, as they say, is history.

You pulled up to the park with a fond smile and got out of your car, turning off the radio which had just been playing your song. The short walk from the car to the park wasn’t enough to prepare yourself for what you saw. A soft gasp emitted from your lips as you spotted the gazebo in the middle of the park lit up with fairy lights, a picnic blanket and food laid out for two. A violinist was playing next to it with a familiar tune that you had just heard on the radio; your song.

And then you spotted him, standing in the middle of the gazebo in a suit and tie with a large bouquet of roses and the smile that had made you fall in love with him. As you walked closer, you started to tell he was nervous with the way his hands shook slightly and whilst you didn’t know why it was still as cute as ever. You just wanted to hold his hands in yours and tell him everything was going to be okay.

He was holding a hand behind his back as he greeted you and kissed you softly. “Happy Valentine’s my love.”

You smiled and took the roses, looking at Harrison with so much love and a few tears in your eyes. “You did all of this for me?”

Harrison took your hands in his and gazed lovingly at you, “Everything is for you Y/n.”

You wrapped your arms tightly around him and sniffled, letting out a giggle as he picked you up in his arms. It wasn’t until you were here that you realised how much you had missed Harrison even in the short time you’d been apart.

“I love you. Thank you for this baby.”

“I love you too my beautiful rose.” He kissed your nose and made you giggle again before pulling away slightly. You pouted and tried to follow but he only smiled and shook his head. “I’m sure you’re wondering why I sent you to find all those pictures and clues.”

You nodded and bit your lip, trying to contain your excitement. Haz smiled wide but you could sense a bit of nervousness behind it. You knew him too well. Just as you were about to ask what was going on, he picked up a book from behind him and gave it to you.

You hummed in curiosity and looked at it. You quickly realised it was a scrapbook titled Our adventure which reminded you of one of your favourite disney movies, Up. Harrison encouraged you to open it and as you did you saw all of your favourite pictures. Some were from special moments in your lives like the ones you had collected and others were silly photos you and Haz had taken through the years.

You could feel your heart melting into a puddle as you looked through the pages. “Haz this is-” You paused and took a deep breath, at a loss for words. “This is beautiful.”

“Keep going love.” Haz encouraged, wiping a tear that fell on your cheek and admiring how beautiful you looked in that moment as you fondly remembered the memories you shared together. He was so glad you liked his final gift, he preferred homemade things and this had taken him the longest and most effort to put together.

He waited until you were right near the end before finally putting his last piece of the puzzle into action and stepping away. He pretended to go down and tie his shoelaces and waited until he heard a small gasp come from your lips as you saw the last page.

There was a polaroid of an engagement ring along with the words Will you marry me?

“Haz-?” You looked up, your face full of surprise and shock as you saw Harrison down on one knee with the engagement ring from the picture in his hand. The tears that had been threatening to fall since the hunt started finally found their way down your cheeks as you realised what was happening.

“Y/n L/n, my love, my soulmate. Will you marry me?”

Harrison’s sparkling blue eyes looked up at you with hope and nerves as he felt his whole body about to explode from the suspense. You didn’t even take a breath before nodding your head quickly, “Yes!”

You kept repeating your answer as you tackled your new fiancé with a hug and kissed him everywhere you could reach. He laughed and wrapped his arms firmly around you, never wanting to let go.

And he never did.

The scrapbook became a part of your relationship as much as your vows did on the day you got married. There were 4 pages full of wedding photos and 2 of photos from your Honeymoon to Hawaii where you recreated the beach picture from your first weekend away together.

The final piece of the puzzle however, was the sonogram photo you got from your first scan showing the newest addition to your family. A new scrapbook was made after that titled The Osterfield Family Adventure.

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mariahthelioness29 · 4 years

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You Can Stop...or Not

Paring: retired! Steve Rogers x Black! reader

WC: 3.2k

Warning: Absolute filth, mi gente, mention of alcohol, SMUT, unprotected sex ( wrap it before you let .... tap in ), medium rough sex, recording sex and photo taking. spanking, facial.

So the inspiration came around thanks to this post Thanks to @blackmissfrizzle @rasberrylemon for encouraging me and @saint-bvcky for being my enabler.

@avintagekiss24 @siancore @xbuchananbarnes @honeychicanawrites @sapphirescrolls @honestlyfrance @helahades @glittercake @lotusss-flowerbomb @buckybarnesplumwhore @canumoveurseatup-no @stacee-not-jaxx @extremelyblackandwhite @deansblackbeauty @afriendlyblackhottie @emilykjh @cherienymphe @readinginsilence100

You are at the edge of the pool, taking in the scenery. The pool blends with the vast ocean in front of you.

It is a beautiful scene, vast blue ocean with islands scattered here and there and the silhouette of mountains far away.

I’m still in love with you playing on the speakers. You sway to the rhythm.

“ I’m still in love with you booyyy”, you slurred. That wine is getting you now and you want your Stevie here with you but Stevie was not here yet, he was taking pictures of the local market for some fancy magazine about islands.

Who would’ve thought Steve Rogers as a photographer, art curator, art director ?

You smile reminiscing his first exposition, which was you and the clients of Jurnee’s beauty salon.

You and the journey of taking your braids off and giving care to your natural hair, with his Kodak Duex camera and with other cameras. Art circles and artsy people made a new meaning and something revolutionary out of it ,just as the shock of Viola Davis, taking her wig off in How to Get Away with Murder.

You laughed remembering, cause he did it out of absolute boredom when your friend, hairdresser Jurnee was taking care of your hair.

He was intrigued, you told him it will be a long time and process. Being the stubborn mule he is, he insisted on going with you. Only to be in shock how much time it takes and the procedure. His mouth was agape, when he heard Jurnee telling a woman, how much it was for her microbraids.

You never heard a group of Black women laugh that much at an expression. Steve Rogers, ex-Captain America, fought purple aliens, dropped from skyscrapers yet he is shocked at the price of microbraids.

You are a little tipsy so you step out of the pool, dry yourself and wrap your hair in the towel, like a headwrap. Dancing to your vacay playlist.

“Shake dat ting miss, Cana, Cana

Shake dat ting miss, Annabella

Shake dat ting yow, Donna Donna

Jodi and Rebecca

Woman, get busy

Jus shake dat booty non-stop”, blasted the speakers.

When you heard one of your favorite songs, You just had to get on your fours on the lounge chair and start throwing ass in a circle.

What you did not know is that a very sneaky, quiet Steve was there with his phone, recording.

Steve just sighs in content, seeing you relax, happy.

He takes his shirt off, just dropping on the floor.

He sees the bottle of wine that has gone down quite a bit. He chuckles in silent at that.

You are swaying your hips to the rhythm of those songs you love so much, oh but then you go on all fours and start moving your ass. He has an idea. He takes his phone and starts recording you. He does his best to be quiet, so that you don’t shy away.

After, coming back from the past, realizing that even going back in time cannot fulfill or make the what ifs come true. He came back but he still had a void. Sam and Bucky tagged him along to various social causes and projects to help the community and it satisfied him but still he needed the warmth of companionship.

One day he goes day drinking, just cause. He is retired and he can do whatever he wants.

You were the bartender and you clicked instantly . Your warm smile, the gold clips in your braids, your vibrant attitude. He felt something stirring in him.

He never exposed his layers to someone so deep and so fast. Maybe it was you and the Asgardian mead.

The rest is history. You have been inseparable since then.

“ Oh, what a sight for sore eyes, indeed ”, Steve sigh

You gasped, and stood up in a flash. When you turn around it was Steve

You let a breath out in relief.

“ Stevieeee”, you whine

“You have to stop scaring me like that” , you pout.

“Aww, I’m sorry, doll. Keep doing what you were doing, honey pie, you’re so beautiful”, Steve smiled again, while picking up the phone again. You roll your eyes, feeling your cheeks heat up but you do as told.

You get on all fours and start to throw your ass in a circle, you turn your head, seeing Steve in trance with how your ass jiggles. You turn around and bite your lip when you see that big tent in his pants forming.

Steve, on other hand, is totally forgetting how to breathe. You always leave him breathless with everything you do.

He loves this, that he only gets to see this part of you.

The way your white thong brings out your skin, the way you are moving sends shivers to all his body. You turn around and smile. He smiles back at you.

“ Come here, stop recording”, you faux chide him. Steve stopped the recording and put the phone in his pocket.

or… not”, You tell him, you wink at him.

He feels his breath hitch.

“ You sure, doll ?”, Steve breathes out, narrowing his eyes.

You love it, when he is so full of desire, the Brooklyn accent comes to the light.

“Let’s make a movie, daddy, not a silent one, full of color”. You smile biting your lip, you walk to him. You turn around and you beckon him with your finger.

He darts his way to you and grabs you, flush to him and kisses you.

It is passionate, fierce but slow and cadent. You feel all of him and he feels all of you.

You break up the kiss after a while. You are closed but you smile to his lips.

“ Your phone”, you point to his pocket. He takes it out and hands it to you.

You embrace him with his phone on your hand. You stretch your arm to the side , so you can record him kissing you and press record.

The glint in your eyes, let him know you are recording. You kiss all tongue, slowly, putting on a show for the camera. He nuzzles your cheek ,then he starts peppering your jaw with kisses. He dives in the crook of your neck and kisses , suckles and licks your pulse point.

You hiss and sigh with small whimpers concentrating that you don’t drop the phone.

“C’mon baby, you told me is not going to be a silent movie”, Steve reminds you.

With that he takes the phone away from your hands.

He makes you lay and spread your legs. He curls his finger and takes your thong off and throws it on the ground.

You talk a big game but when he makes you spread your legs, you still feel heated under his stare. He kisses your cheek.

You’re breathing is ragged.

He records how your center flutters around nothing, how you are glistened and glazed like an overflowing honey pot.

“Look at all that”, he says in awe.

“Fuck, all for me, baby”, he asks you looking at you

“ Yes, Stevie, all for you”, you nod, biting your lip.

He keeps recording how he slips a finger in you and withdraws it slowly and enters two fingers.

“Stevie”, you breath

“Hmm”, he just hums when you are moaning.

He withdraws the two fingers and pushes in three fingers.

“Daddy, please-, your moans die in your tongue. Steve is entranced seeing the recording and biting his lip.

Your eyes are rolled in that back of your head and your mouth agape. You are moving your hips up You whimper when he fingers you faster and faster.

He hiss with you.

He angles the phone to your face to record how your face contorted in pleasure.

You look so fucked out and he has barely begun. You whine when you feel his fingers slipping out of you.

“ Daddy”, you whine.

He licks his fingers, eyes closed, savoring you off his finger.

“So good” , he slurred

You just look at him, salivating.

“ I’m not done, doll, I am going to taste you”, he rasped

He hands you the phone. You change the camera so that it is recording him now. He blows a kiss to the camera and goes down.

You jolt and moan with the phone in hand. You grabbed the phone steady and he starts eating you like a starved man

“Yes, Stevie, make me cum like that”, you cry out and you push your center to his face.

His face flush against your center. His arms looped around your thighs. He looks at the camera, while giving fast tongue flicks on your clit.

“Ahh, fuck”, escapes you with high pitched sounds. You are squirming but he puts in your place. He enters his fingers in you again and you go cross eyed and almost drop the phone.

“ If you drop it, I won’t let you come all night, understood ”, he reprimands you.

You nod furiously.

He goes back to business, you are a moaning mess.

He sucks on your clit and slips his fingers in and out fast against that spot. Your thighs are shaking.

“Daddy, Stevie”- you shrill.

Everything is heightened, his lips on you and his beard tickling your inner thighs

You shriek, “Stevie!!” along with a deafening moan as you cum.

Steve eyes twinkle in the camera. It is the excitement he feels, because he makes you feel like this along with your taste. He flat his tongue, receiving everything you have to offer. He makes out with your pussy. You cry at the sensitivity. He smirks and then stands up.

He takes the phone from your hands, he saves the recording and then kisses you.

You both moan in the kiss, sharing the taste of you.

He breaks the kiss and grabs the upper cushion of the lounge chair.

He drops it on the floor.

You get the clue and you drop on your knees on the cushion. He presses record again.

“Take it out, honey”

You do it and it pops out of his shorts.

You love it. It is as pretty as him. Slightly curved, long and thick, head glistening with pre-cum.

You lick the throbbing vein on the underside, while looking him dead in the eye.

He exhales “ damn, doll”, with his eyes fluttering.

Little by little, you put his dick deeper in your mouth until you feel him tickling the back of your throat. He grunts “fuck”, when you cough, taking your head back. His dick is wet and glistening from your spit.

He is moaning, his hand a little bit shaky, holding the camera.

He guides your head up and down on his length.

“You like that honey pie, taking all of me?”, he croaks

You look up to the camera and your eyes smile while your mouth is full of dick.

He is a moaning mess, cursing and and his eyes close a little.

Your saliva coats your chin and the corner of your lips. You are teary eyed.

You jerk him and suck him. You gaped out of breath, you smiled at the camera, while jerking him off.

“ You like that, daddy ?”, you ask with faux innocence.

“You know, I do, honey pie”. He breathes out.

“Daddy, you are going to split me open with this” and you jerk him faster.

“ Yes, baby, I want to so much,” he croaks

You go for his balls and tug them and you flick your tongue on them.

He groans, “y/n, baby”.

You just keep doing it, while you keep seeing his mouth open, strangled moans coming out him.

“ Y-”, he can’t even form a coherent sentence. He just groans and bite his lip.

You are just bobbing your head up and down. Every now and then you lick the tip.

“Baby, if you keep doing that, I am going to cum, he rushes in a whisper

You stop and he stops recording, saving the recording.

He exhales a breath, and traces your lips with his thumb.

“You and that mouth”, he shakes his head grinning.

“ I love sucking you off, daddy”, you look up at him grinning too.

You suck his thumb and then stand up. He takes your hand in his, turns you around and spanks you hard.

You yelp, surprised by the slap on your ass cheek. It stings so good so you moan out.

He lands on his knees on the lounge chair. You sit in front of him. He brings you flush to him. He hands you the phone. You know what to do.

You start the camera, press record.

He is breathing you in. He starts kissing the back of your neck and nipping your earlobe.

His chest against your back. He snatches your biking top of you and starts jiggling your breast playfully. You both laugh at the camera. He kisses your cheek. You feel his beard tickling your cheek.

He caresses your perky nipples with his thumbs, putting a little pressure on them.

You sigh and your head falls on his shoulder, your eyes fluttering, you are still holding the phone. He says to your ear “ I love you”, honesty dropping in every word, while squeezing your breast. You put your hand on top of his and you say “I love you, too”.

“ Ass up, face down, doll”, he orders using his Captain voice.

Here I thought you loved me, hmm, you say with faux disappointment.

He laughs “ I love you so much, but let me show you how much with my body”. With that you stop the recording and save it.

You hand him the phone.

You are ass up and face down. He enters you while filming.

“Damn”, you groan. Your walls still need to adjust to him after all this time.

He breathes heavily.

Wine slow was playing on the speakers

“ I love it when you shake it, baby, you have the prettiest ass, show me how much you want my dick doll” , he grits out filming you and the scenery in front of you.

You shake your ass, almost pulling him out of you and then you slam your ass flush against his hips. You are moaning incoherent sentences, while you were moving your ass to the rhythm of the song.

“Stevie, daddy, I feel in you in- you moan- in my stomach”, you croak.

He records it all, he encourages you “ That’s it, honey pie, I’m all yours use me baby and he spanks your cheek. You whine. He takes your hip in one hand and starts thrusting his hips with madness in you.

You open your mouth in a scream but nothing other than strangled noises comes out.

He spanks your ass again. He moans when your walls spam around him.

“ Let me hear you, sweetheart”, he pants.

He grunts and groans, seeing on the phone, how much you are creaming for him.

You are whimpering, feeling him in your guts. You feel your inside getting tight, squeezing him

He groans “Fuck is like vice ” ,he grunts.

“Daddy, I’m close-, you cried out.

He pulls out, you groan in frustration: “whyyyy!”

“Calm down, baby, my hand is just tired, let’s go to the room, I put this phone on the nightstand and fuck you proper”, he explains to you.

You stand fast and he just laughs and you laugh.

“Eager little thing”, he bops your nose and you cast your eyes down, smiling.

He brings your face up with his thumb and forefinger on your chin and gives pecks to your lips.

You walk to your room hand in hand naked, the phone in his hand.

He puts the horizontally on the nightstand against the lamp and with the volume key, he hits the record.

You are laying on the bed and you receive him in your arms. You spread your legs real wide for him. You both kiss until you are out of breath.

“ I love you”, he pants.

“I love you”, you repeat to him.

He folds you more when his knees meet the back of your thighs. Your legs are beside your ears.

He starts pounding into you without mercy. The room is filled with his pants and grunts along with your cries. The sound of skin against skin. “ You’re so deep, daddy”, you cry out eyes wide like you could not believe he is this deep.

“ Take it, doll, that’s..- fuck, ahh- that’s where I belong-hmmm- deep in you”, he gruffs.

He pistons his hips against yours, non-stop.

You can only fist the sheets and moan to the ceiling.

He look so hot like that, eyes full of love and lust with his hair hanging on front of him

He feels you squeezing on him and he lets out a long moan. He knows he will not last. He starts rubbing your clit fast.

“ You gasp and you start whining, “ Stevie, baby, just like that”, you croak.

You arch off the bed with a long moan, you drop your body back on the bed, you feel electricity from head to toe.

Steve pulls outs and straddles your torso.

You start encouraging him.

“ I am so dirty, daddy, I even let you film me daddy, you coo at him

He is just jerking himself fast. His eyes are almost black from the lust.

“ Paint my face with your cum, daddy, I needed” , your smile at him.

“Fuck, y/n, baby, fuck you are such a sight,” he pants.

You stuck your tongue out to him. He was done for.

He cums with a strangled mention of your name, and a long moan and groans.

You close your eyes, smiling spurts of warm cum, landing all over your face and mouth.

Steve mounts off your torso. He sits next to you. You sit up against the headboard.

“ Such a good girl”, he says in awe. He gets off the bed and goes to his bag. He takes his polaroid in his hand.

“Say cheese, honey pie,”

You smile big for him with your face full of his cum. The picture slides out of the polaroid camera. He puts it on the nightstand. He coos “ So pretty”, looking at the picture. He sits next to you on the bed.

He scoops his cum in his fingers and lets you suck it off his finger. He does that until there is no trace of cum on your face. He kisses you deep.

“ You think we did good enough for a porn”, you ask him.

“ I know we did, pornstars, it is their job, and they do a damn good job but we are different, It is love”, he assures you.

With that he stands up and he picks his phone and stops the recording and saves it.

“ You know, doll, I like this recording thing”, he says while wiggling the phone in his hands.

“I already know where I want to do it, next”, he smirks and winks at you.

“Oh..”, you blink your eyes in surprise with a hand on your chest.

“How about tomorrow in the deserted beach on the other side of town”, he smiles.

“ Loving on an island 2”, You say seductively.

You both laugh. He goes to the bed and lays scooting to you.

He lays his head on your chest and you run your fingers through his hair. Both sighing in content.

“You know, we have our clothes outside”, you remind Steve

“ I’ll pick them up later”

This is his life right now, enjoying the world he was once denied along with you and his friends. There is only the present and he will enjoy it.

#steve x reader #steve x black!reader #chris evans #captain america #retired steve

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imagineabrighterworld · 3 years

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Psy-Cutie pt. 1

Summary // Mind Jack is an S-ranked villain who always manages to evade capture. You are a florist working in the city and never really minded what was happening around you. You kept an ear open for more relevant news, but you never heard of Mind Jack or his schemes. This works in Hitoshi Shinso's favor as he crashes into your shop one day, injured and unable to take care of himself. Lucky for him, you are just the healer he needs.

A/N: Based loosely on the song American Beauty/American Psycho, hope you enjoy! ^^

- - -

Hitoshi knew two things when he woke up in an unfamiliar bed.

One. He was in pain.

Two. He was safe.

He knew he was safe with clear surety because if the person who saved him knew who he was, he would have on handcuffs and a muzzle rather than a blanket and bandages.

-4 hours earlier-

Twisting the dial of his mask, Hitoshi tests the new vocals he had acquired.

"Help me! Please Akane!" The voice of a 45 year old woman echoes in the room, bouncing off the concrete walls. The voice belonged to Hiromi Sasaki, the wife of a broker who had ties to several Pro Heroes in the Coruscant district. She had been a thorn in Hitoshi's side what with her providing new equipment and upgraded tech to superheroes. Last month he had nearly been foiled by a beam that concentrated a hypnotic ray. But now he had the perfect plan to get rid of her.

Or rather, get rid of her clients privacy.

"Hiromi! Are you here?!" Akane yells from afar, finally catching up to him after following the sound of her wife from blocks away. Now that they were in a closed and controlled area, Hitoshi felt no need to continue this game of cat and mouse.

"How precious." His voice rings out. "You really do love her don't you. If only that love was enough to keep her safe." He steps out from his spot behind a pillar, looking at the now frozen broker who stood still at the doorway. Her eyes were wide open, a blank canvas.

He stalks forward, lowering his mask into the folds of his capture weapon. "You're going to listen to me now." Hitoshi beckons her with a finger, walking backwards to a single chair. "Come. Let's go over the terms of our agreement."

The woman sits down on the rickety chair, showing no signs of fear as it buckles under her weight.

"From now on, you'll be attaching these to all the equipment you sell to your heroes." He unties a small bag from his waist and tosses it onto her lap. They were tracking devices. "If you get caught, your wife will not come back from what I'll do to her."

Nothing, nothing showed on her face that she was listening, but he knew his instructions ran clear. He could feel his control taking over. His quirk had evolved since his time at U.A, no longer was his brain washing temporary, no, he could give long term instructions. It was very, very useful. An evolution he was sure his old classmate would have loved to jot down. But today wasn’t a day for lamenting old friendships he already burned.

Bang!

His focus snaps to the wall next to him, the concrete was beginning to crack as a barrage of fists pummeled into it.

Shit.

"Don't forget what I told you." Hitoshi pulls his mask back into place, cutting off his connection to the broker, not sparing another second to watch her as he bolts to the farthest window with his capture weapon in hand.

Breaking through the glass he sends the end of the scarf to a faraway pole, using it to swing onto a nearby building. He curls into a ball and tumbles to lessen the impact on his joints before sprinting across the rooftops. Narrowly he evades the paralyzing bullets of police officers on the ground, shouting to the heroes who were hot on his tail.

It was fun, in a way, they were finally making it fun for him after being so easily put down.

But the heroes were prepared for him. Finally, they learned to bring proper backup.

"Mind Jack!" The hero Racer yells from the rooftop next to him. The hero beside them creates a ramp of metal, allowing Racer to send themselves flying onto the rooftop he was currently on.

Hitoshi coils his capture weapon around Racer's leg as they fly midair, twisting them around and throwing them into the new hero behind him. The group that had begun to accumulate was a mixture of A and C ranked heroes, which normally would be easily handled by himself. But he was caught off guard by the sudden appearance of a telekinetic that sent him plummeting into the ground and through the floors below him.

“Damn!” His scarf wraps around the exposed edge of a steel pillar poking out of the concrete floor, allowing him to swing out of sight from the heroes that continued their path downward where they assumed he had fallen. But it didn’t mean he was safe.

All he remembers is the cold wind rushing past him as he breaks through the window of the thirtieth floor and freefalls to the unforgiving ground.

- Now -

Now he was staring at a pitcher of water with slices of lemons and leaves of mint.

Just where did he land?

"Oh you're awake!" A voice chimes in from behind a curtain. He squints at the fuzzy shadow, making out something round and human shaped.

A hand grabs the curtain and pulls it aside, the roundness now obviously a ceramic pot and the human shaped figure.. A very cute human.

He tilts his head as he watches you balance the pot of dirt on your hip, your cheeks smudged along with your gloved hands.

Who were you?

"You scared me earlier! I almost didn't get to you in time." You place the pot on a chair and pull up a stool from the vanity against the wall, crossing your legs as you sat down. "My quirk is a little reckless, so I was afraid I might hurt you more than help you. But you're a sturdy one."

"What is-!" Hitoshi cringes at the pain in his throat, reaching up a hand to cup his jugular. It felt like crushed glass was grinding against his vocal cords.

You stood up at the sound of his voice, already preparing a cup of water to give to him. "My quirk? It's repel. I can repel anything, living or non-living- but the force I exert can change from moment to moment if I'm not careful. So when I saw you falling, I had to use it in small bursts to keep you from smacking the pavement too hard."

Well, he was asking for your name but he took the water anyway, looking it over for traces of a sedative. Deeming it clean, he mouths a quick ‘thank you’ before drinking.

Using the opportunity to collect clues on what kind of person his host was, Hitoshi takes in the sight around him. A pitcher of water on a chipped black nightstand. Macrame potted plants hanging by an open window. A wardrobe with a sweater peeking out. A worn beige carpet on vinyl floors. Photographs of friends and family. Clippings of plants and dried out flowers in picture frames.

Nothing out of the ordinary. Safe.

A part of him wanted to cringe. How long had it been since he was around something so ordinary? He didn’t live in places long enough to decorate it. He didn’t leave windows open, chancing a police officer spotting him. He didn’t have any of these things you had.

“So..”

He turns his attention back to you.

“Would you happen to be Hitoshi Shinso?”

His grip on the cup tightens instinctively. Without his voice to activate his quirk, he settles on relying on his physicality. Hitoshi reaches instinctively for the scarf around his neck-

But it wasn’t there.

He settles on a nod, preparing to bolt out of the bed should you try screaming for help. Even without his scarf, he was prepared to scale the walls if he had to.

However, it isn't a yell of fear that he is met with. Surprise floods him as he watches your face light up with a smile. You lean forward with your hands tucked under your thighs. “Really?! I watched you in the U.A sports festivals when I was a teenager! You were amazing!”

Without knowing it, his hand raised from his neck to his face, covering his mouth as you continued on, a warmth building in his cheeks.

“I live pretty far away, but I took a trip to U.A. for my second year, and to see you take down students twice your size was so cool! You really worked hard after the first festival and it showed-“ A blush of your own takes root on your face. You scoot your seat backwards. “Ah- sorry about that.. I didn’t mean to be so forward.”

He shakes his head, looking at you with much softer eyes. He was a villain. And had been a villain after leaving amid his third year at U.A. He didn’t regret his decision and never cared for the love the media gave his former classmates. He didn’t need praise or the affection of strangers. He didn’t care about any of that.

But to hear someone praise him for his hard work, and to hear someone put him in such a light? To hear that someone saw him as more than his quirk?

Hitoshi could get drunk on your words alone.

“You don't mind..? I understand if it’s creepy. I've met fans of Deku who even I was uncomfortable next to.”

Once more he shakes his head, unbothered by your enthusiasm. In fact, he liked it. More than he thought he would.

Was this why heroes strived to be popular? The warm feeling it brought? Or was it because it came from you? Someone so blissfully ignorant of what he has done.

You still saw him as a hero.

A hero.

“Oh! I need to get back to the shop! Your fall left some of my pots smashed, I need to clean it up before someone gets hurt.” You get to your feet and take his now empty glass, refilling it before handing it back. “Take your time,I’ll be downstairs if you need anything.”

And just when he thought you couldn't get any better, you stumble on your way out, drawing out a squeak from your lips.

He was truly and utterly whipped.

#bnha #mha #bnha x reader #mha x reader #bnha hitoshi #mha hitoshi #hitoshi shinso #hitoshi shinso x reader #bnha hitoshi shinso #bnha hitoshi shinso x reader #mha hitoshi shinso x reader #Psy-Cutie #very self indulgent #maybe a tiny bit of angst in the future but not really #any suggestions or ideas for future mini chapters are welcome!#just really wanted a soft villain hitoshi úwù #he is my son #please be gentle with him

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k-llama-llama · 4 years

Text

The Launch

BTS AU: 8th member

Sumi x BTS

Sumi’s launch party.

Check out my PATREON (patreon.com/kllamallama) for exclusive content. This post was available a month ago for those on my patreon.

Requests are OPEN.Masterlist and other Follow Me links in bio!

“I think I’m going to pass out.” Sumi held a hand to her chest.

“Please don’t.” Changkyun rubbed her back. “The photographers just got inside.”

Sumi took a deep breath. “Do I look stressed? Do I look okay? Because I feel like I look stressed.”

“You look gorgeous.” Changkyun promised. “Now, give me a kiss and get out there.”

Sumi nodded, pressing a quick kiss to his lips and then hurrying out from behind the banner where she’d been hiding.

The launch party had seemed like a good idea at the time, because it was a chance for more exposure for her line. But then the press got involved, and there was a pink carpet that all of the guests were walking down. And the guests she’d picked, like her friends and other idols, were now being chatted up by magazine people and fashion brands.

She’d managed the pink carpet, and been okay as the guests slowly trickled inside after her, but now the press was inside as well, and she knew she had to go take pictures with people.

She watched Changkyun sneak out on the other side of the banner and walk over to where Monsta X was. She wished she could follow him, but instead she headed through the party towards the photo wall.

She was rather proud of the decorations. Everything was done in rose gold and white, and there were glass cases everywhere displaying her jewelry. The snack tables were covered in tiny foods, and there was champagne going around as well.

“Eonnie! You look amazing!” Someone caught her arm.

She spun, finding Tori holding her elbow. “I didn’t realize you were here already. I would’ve come to say hi.”

“I just got here.” Tori promised, before holding up a hand to show off her By Sumi earrings. She wasn’t giving the stuff away, but she’d gifted some to each member of Pandora, just because she could.

“You look beautiful.” Sumi smiled.

“And you do too. Totally showing everyone that this is your night.” Tori grinned.

Sumi looked down at her dress. It had taken her weeks to pick it, but she was sure that she’d made the perfect choice. The body of the dress was a tight, solid navy blue, but it had a sheer overlay that made it look like it was covered in silver stars. The puffed sleeves were made of the sheer material, as was the long train of the skirt. She’d pulled her hair up, showing off her earrings and her necklace.

“You need to go take pictures.” Tori pointed towards the photo wall. “But I’ll see you later.”

Sumi waved goodbye to her, before making her way towards the photographers. The second she stepped close, she was grabbed by both her group manager and her brand manager.

“We’ve got lots of solo pictures.” Her brand manager, a woman in her forties that Sumi had personally hired. “Can we get some of you with your group?”

“I’ve already brought them over.” Her group manager said.

“Long time no see, CEO!” Hoseok shouted as soon as he was within range.

Sumi laughed, turning to face the photographers as they all stood next to her. “I imagine that’s what you’re calling me all the time now.”

“Obviously. Namjoon is leader, and your CEO.” Yoongi stood on her other side, wrapping an arm around her waist and throwing up a peace sign.

There wasn’t much opportunity for chatting as they smiled and posed for the photographers. Sumi was careful not to crush her puff sleeves, also trying to strategically show off her jewelry.

“Can we do some paired shots?” A photographer shouted. “Just Sumi and someone else?”

Despite her urge to tell the photographer off for attempting to tell them what to do, the boys seemed excited about a chance to escape and get snacks.

“See you in a minute, Soo.” Yoongi and Hoseok disappeared.

“Guess that’s my cue.” Jungkook stepped up beside her, loosely wrapping an arm around her waist.

“You’re wearing a jacket.” She noted, leaning her head towards him as she smiled at the camera.

“It’s a fancy day, Noona. I’m just trying to impress.” He smiled. “Why, do you not like it?”

“I like it when you show off your tattoos.” She said simply.

“I want to present a good image for your brand.” He explained. “I combed my hair and everything.”

“And you’re wearing the earrings.” Sumi reached up to tug lightly on his earring. “Now I know I’ll be sold out by tomorrow.”

“You’re going to be sold out anyways.” He promised. “The entire line is amazing.”

“I never thought I’d be turning to you for feedback on accessories.” Sumi laughed. “But, I guess if you can sell out a fabric softener, you can sell out my jewelry line.”

“Sumi will be back for pictures in a few minutes.” Her manager announced, signaling an end to the photo session, at least for the time being.

Jungkook linked his arm with hers, leading her past the walls of photographers and back into the quieter area of the party.

“You look really pretty, by the way.” He smiled at her.

“Thanks.” She grinned. “I’ve been told that I’m killing it.”

“You are.” He confirmed. “Um, can we talk for a minute?”

“We are talking.”

“But like…just the two of us?” He looked nervous.

Sumi frowned. “I guess. Uh, follow me.”

She led him into the back room of the party, where the gift baskets were sitting on tables and waiting to be distributed. She closed the door behind them, blocking out the noise.

“What do you want to talk about?” She asked.

He rubbed the back of his neck. “I just…I wanted to apologize.”

“For what?” She let out a little laugh. “I don’t think you’ve done anything that bad.”

“I need to apologize for what happened.” He insisted. “With YinYin. And with….with us.”

Sumi’s mood sobered instantly. “Today? Seriously, Jungkook. I’ve put it behind me.”

“I know, I know and I’m not going to ruin your day. I just…I need you to know that I’m sorry. That I know I messed up, and that I’m sorry I ever made you feel like I didn’t trust you.”

Sumi twisted the fabric of her skirt. “Well I’ll admit it didn’t feel nice.”

“I just…I love you. And I don’t want anything to be weird, I just want things to go back to normal. And I promise, I trust you.”

Sumi sighed. “I trust you too, Kookie. And I love you. We can put it behind us, but I’m never going to forget that it happened.”

“That’s okay. I just….” He looked down at his hand, before holding it up in the air. It took her a second to realize he was showing her his tattoo. “I got this for a reason. And I don’t regret it. You’re one of the most important people in my life, and I don’t want my stupid decision to come between us.”

“It won’t.” Sumi promised. “But what brought this on?”

He sighed, looking at the ground. “It’s embarrassing.”

That was all it took for Sumi to clue in. “YinYin.”

Jungkook nodded.

Sumi let out a laugh. “What? She wouldn’t sleep with you until you made peace or something? I knew I liked that girl.”

“No.” He frowned. “I wanted her to – never mind. It’s stupid.”

“No no.” Sumi crossed her arms, smirking. “I want the details. Did she threaten to break up with you? Was she refusing to speak Korean until you cooperated? Did she-“

“I wanted us to get couple jewelry and she said she wouldn’t wear it as long as me and you were weird.” Jungkook blurted out.

Sumi blinked.

And then burst into laughter.

“Are you serious?” She exclaimed. “This entire weird conversation is because you wanted matching jewelry with your girlfriend?”

“Don’t make fun.” He protested. “It’s an important…an important milestone in a relationship.”

Sumi was clutching her side as she laughed. “It’s just….oh Kookie, I think that’s the cutest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“See this…” He pointed at her. “Is why I didn’t want you to know that we were dating.”

Sumi had to sit down on one of the rolling chairs as she struggled to catch her breath. She finally managed to focus enough to speak.

“So…you getting couple rings? Diamond encrusted?” She was genuinely curious, but he could see the mischievous glint in her eye.

“No, we’re not getting rings.” He shook his head. “I’m surprised you didn’t notice.”

“What? Notice what?” Sumi scanned him up and down.

He pointed at his ear. “I’m only wearing one earring.”

Sumi’s mouth dropped open. “You’re using my jewelry as your couple item?”

“It’s just so high quality.” He teased.

She shook her head. “I’ve changed my mind. I don’t forgive you. You’re just trying to cause trouble now.” She stood from her chair.

“Aw, Noona!” He grinned, playfully smoothing out her skirt. “Forgive me?”

“Hm, maybe after the party.”

#bts #bts au #bts imagines #bts 8th member #female kpop #female member kpop #female!kpop #requests open #au #kpop #imagines #imagine #kpop au #kpop imagines #kpop imagine

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