#gonna self reblog this later for the morning crowd

[suave-hogan]

Making a few preparations for Martha March, so I don’t fall apart like last year

While doing so, I’d like to ask if I should bring Martha March to T¡itter, or any other platforms?

I’ve seen works even end up on ao3 so it’s already spread out a bit from insta and tumb|r

I’d also love any feed back about the event in general

#suave says #gonna self reblog this later for the morning crowd #need as much feedback as I can get #twrp #havve hogan

[pies-writes-and-more]

drunk haikyuu boys singing to you

Synopsis: how some haikyuu boys sing to you while they’re just slightly drunk

Characters: Sugawara, Ushijima, Bokuto, Kenma, Yamaguchi, & Kageyama - all with a Fem!Reader

Warnings: mentions of alcohol, some swearing probably, mention of a suggestive song (but nothing specific!). All characters in this fic are assumed to be of legal drinking age :)

Haikyuu Masterlist

Sugawara will literally sing to you anywhere anytime. Backup dancers no backup dancers, stage or no stage, drunk or not drunk. He is READY.

He’s definitely embarrassed you in the park before, singing to you at the top of his lungs some adorable little song that he’s now obsessed with. He has a really great voice but omg Suga please shush, people are staring at you.

But drunk Suga? Oh that boy is going to SERENADE the shit out of you. It probably won’t even be a romantic song to be honest. He’s probably singing some really suggestive song at you, winking with both eyes because he’s very tipsy (“m not drunk Daichi, I can totally handle another shot if you would jus gimme”).

He’s basically scream-singing because the music at the club is loud so it’s a lot of dance moves and hand gestures too. Tries to grind on you but again, had a few drinks, so he’s kinda just flopping around lol.

Has Daichi and Asahi singing backup for him even though Asahi doesn’t really know what the lyrics are so he’s just nodding and humming along (cut to his :O face when he realizes how suggestive the song is).

Ushijima doesn’t sing out loud in public sorry. But after a couple of shots that Tendo just keeps pouring for him, he’ll happily sit somewhere in the pub with you on his lap. His lips will continuously press kisses to your forehead and you can hear him softly hum or whisper the lyrics of the love song that just came on the speakers.

He’ll brush the hair away from your ear so he can continue softly humming to you with each kiss, smiling cause you’re so embarrassed but you’re also loving it??? And he loves you and just wants to tell you that. He might not be the greatest at words but this song seems to be lovely and has a good melody so he gonna at least hum it to you, singing out the parts that he really connects with.

You’re not even really sure if he remembers it in the morning cause you can’t really? tell? when he’s drunk? He becomes slightly more okay with PDA and his cheeks go a nice red but like tipsy vs drunk you got no clue.

But you catch him humming the song again later the next day and he catches your eye and gives you that smile again and like ugh butterflies.

Bokuto is has been preparing for this FOR AGES. He’s already thrown back a few shots but serenading you has been like a dream of his for AGES. So the shots are just adding to his confidence. Once they announce the start of karaoke, he is ALREADY on the stage.

Akaashi is ike sir please no just come back here and don’t embarrass us, but Bokuto is insistent because he is the best at everything so why would he not do it??

Gets on stage and picks some like very dramatic song, (if you’re a Brooklyn99 fan, imagine how Gina is dancing to Beautiful by Christina Aguilera to those teenagers cause that’s what I’m imagining rn lol) and at the beginning of the music, he just pulls the mic off of the stand like some cocky pop star, looks you dead in the eye and points at you saying, “This one is for you, hot stuff”.

You’re just hiding behind your fingers but like peeking through them because as entertaining as this is, you can also feel everyone staring at you and that is just a no thank you.

Akaashi is filming it and sends it to the group chat so everyone can laugh with him at how confident Bokuto is. But also like ??? Bokuto has a good voice and the team has only ever heard him singing in the locker rooms (but most of the time that’s like speak-singing? if that makes sense?) whereas right now he’s going full out because he loves you.

Kenma like Ushijima really doesn’t want to sing out in public. You might catch him humming along to his game’s music but karaoke? ya no sorry. Not unless it’s just the two of you in a private karaoke room, then maybe he’ll quietly sing along.

But the two of you are just chilling in a pub, watching some other volleyball players play a version of Never Have I Ever that’s about their volleyball teams (“Never has my teammates gotten a penalty for screaming at each other.” “Kuroo you ass.” “Not my fault, drink up Daichi, and all you Karasuno boys too.”)

Kenma had had a few drinks and was feeling pretty mellow. He felt like he could fall asleep right here with you in his arms but he was just nodding his head off to the music.

Then you started humming and quietly singing along to the music and he recognized it as something you had sung along to at home too. It gets to the part where the lyrics say something like “baby you’re everything to me”, and Kenma sings it with you.

You look up at him in surprise cause you honestly thought he was sleeping, but his eyes are wide open now, looking at you with literally all the love in the world.

Yamaguchi has literally the prettiest voice in the world and you cannot change my mind. He sings to you all the time at home, dancing with you in the kitchen while you’re trying not to burn dinner, or in the car while you two are singing at the tops of your lungs, but he’s never done it in public before. Cause that shit scary.

But after a few drinks warm his whole body, he’s smiling at you with closed eyes, swaying to the music.

“Are you okay, Yams?” You laugh, brushing your fingers through his hair and he just nods and holds your hand to his face while he half hums, half sings some of the lyrics to you.

“Holy shit, Yamaguchi can SING?” The Karasuno boys would go crazy. Cue Sugawara asking the owner of the establishment you guys are at to play a specific song he knows that Yamaguchi loves. All of them crowding around you guys like some acappella group, singing along with Yamaguchi.

You’re just like oh my god what is wrong with you all but like it’s the cutest thing ever. You filmed it. Posted it on your Insta.

Yamaguchi is famous now because girls are DYING over his voice and how he looks at you when he sings. He is very embarrassed but likes that you were so proud of him that you posted about him because this boi insecure please go love him the way he deserves.

When I think of Kageyama drunk, I’m thinking of his little dance before the meat BBQ scene at training camp LOL (note the gif above). This boy is dancing very awkwardly but he moving because he happy. But also like singing? Um no, he’s nervous thank you very much. He doesn’t really hum or sing in general so drunk Kageyama isn’t much different but if he hears you singing??? He starts giving you puppy eyes because he loves your voice so much. So you start singing to him and he’s nodding along with a little smile on his face. And then he starts singing too? At first it’s more like speak-singing but then he gets really into it (while also dancing very awkwardly) and he has???? such a nice??? voice???? like sir??? Why have you spent so much time yelling at Hinata when you could be singing?

He’ll like pinch your cheeks a little while he’s singing to you and is all red-faced because a) drunk and b) his inner self is like omg this is embarrassing please stop but he loves you so much he can’t help himself.  

** ** ** ** ** **

As usual, reblogs, comments, and likes and any sort of feedback are all appreciated! :)

Taglist (please let me know if you’d like to be added to a permanent Haikyuu taglist!) @aurumk​ (just cause I told you I was writing this and I know you were excited for it haha)

#haikyu x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu #sugawara x reader #ushijima x reader #bokuto x reader #kenma x reader #yamaguchi x reader #kageyama x reader #sugawara koushi #sugawara x you #ushijima x y/n #ushijima x you #ushijima wakatoshi #hq ushijima #bokuto x y/n #bokuto kotaro #kenma imagine #kenma scenario #hq kenma #kenma x y/n #kenma x you #yamaguchi tadashi #yamaguchi x you #yamaguchi x y/n #kageyama tobio #kageyama x y/n #kageyama x you #hq imagines #hq fluff

[outofsstyles]

KILLER QUEEN (80s!AU)

 A/N: Heyaa!! So here’s what happens when I watch Sing Street right after reading some of Olivia’s boyfriend!Harry prompts :) Also a huge thank you to Soph @canyon-moan​ for betaing this for me!! A gentle reminder that I was not, in fact, alive in the 80s so please take it easy in that aspect lol. If you like it *please reblog*, it helps a lot, also I’d love to hear your feedback!!!!

Word count: 25.3k (I have no self control!! Someone stop me!!)

Pairing: Musician!Harry + Bassist!Reader

Prompts: making it official + enemies but secretly lovers

Warnings: Our typical mentions of sex, drugs and rock ‘n’ roll (and a lot of denim!)

Concept: You and Harry are in rival bands and you shouldn’t really get along but you can’t help it.

                                 ❁         ❁        ❁ 

It didn’t come as a surprise to you that, from the moment you agreed to be part of the band, your agenda would become more frantic. That’s all you read on magazines or see on the television on those late nights MTV programs that love to talk about that rockstar life. The shows and the sleepless nights. The drugs and the sex between stages. It’s always what comes to the minds of anyone that thinks about following the music path.

Of course, you’re far from being The Bangles or Duran Duran, but even when it comes to playing for uninterested drunks on small crummy bars, you still found yourself barely able to catch a breather from it. 

And it also doesn’t help that on top of it all, you also try your best to balancing your studies as you go into your third year of uni. So, between being tucked behind your bass during rehearsals and going around begging for stuck up pub owners to give a spot, you still have to find time for the busy class schedule that also blends with your tutoring job on the side. Sometimes it feels like juggling those two contrasting lives is too much, and when you walk home each day too exhausted to even function, you ponder if you should just drop one of them.

You still manage to fall into a rather chaotic routine of dragging through weekdays to fall into reckless weekends. It’s not easy, but you make it work.

Today, however, seemed to be an odd one. From the moment you woke up with the sound of birds chirping and the faint conversation of your neighbors outside your window, you felt a sense of relaxation that has become a rarity to you. It’s a welcoming change from your usual rowdy roommates bantering at each other or the loud music blasting through the walls that serve as your alarm on regular days. The silence that engrosses your normally-chaotic home is calming as much as it is strange. 

The whole day went by in a lulling and lazy pace, and between your several attempts of keeping yourself occupied (that being going on a walk to the library or going through your mom’s old recipe book) you actually catch yourself realizing the quietness can be louder than your roommates.

It’s a weird concept to you. Missing them when you spend so much time together in the band, but you still can’t help it. So you just blast the radio and let Rio fill in the empty walls as you wait for one of them to come home.

By the time the night falls, wind thumping on the closed windows as the first thin drops of rain start to hit the glass, Lena is back from her shift with a low huff and a roll of her eyes, mumbling how she’s never covering weekend shifts ever again -- which you both know is not true, but neither mention it. And that’s how you find yourself at the end of your unruffled day, tucked at the end of your couch under a cozy blanket. Listening to one of MTV’s nightly programs - that Lena watches almost religiously after a day of work - as background noise. You focus on the open book settled on top of your lap, enjoying her company quietly as you flip through the pages.

It could be the perfect ending for a perfectly relaxing day, the sound of the rain almost lulling you to sleep as the words in front of you begin to shuffle, finding it harder to concentrate with your mind drifting off.

But before you can let your eyes fall close and your head snuggle back into the cushions, you’re startled awake by the burst of your front door opening. The sudden noise makes you and Lena jump, a yelp leaving your lips as you look back to the source of your fright. 

You barely have any time to feel panicked or even wrap your head around the possibilities of what could have caused the outburst as Abbey barges into the room.  She all but jumps on each step, stumbling a bit as she makes her way around the couch to stand tall in front of you. Her red hair is full and damp, droplets of water running down her body, causing her clothes to stick to her skin.

“I got us a gig!” Her breath is short as if she just ran a long way.

“Christ, Abbey, don’t do that!” You relax back into the couch once you realize there’s no real threat invading your home, closing your eyes and letting out a breath. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

She scoffs, “Did you listen to a word I just said?” You notice her eyes are blown out, “I got us a gig, as in a </i> real gig.”

“A real gig?” Lena inquires, standing up to walk towards the front door that was left agape, closing it with a thump.

Abbey’s grin grows, her words come out slow but clear. “Next Saturday in the Blue Bird.”

“That’s in a week.” You state.

Her shoulders drop, “Yeah, and?”

“Blue Bird?” Lena comes in the room again, stopping by the head of the couch and crossing her arms under her chest. “How did you even get that I thought the only band that played there was--”

“You’re right Lena, was as in not anymore because we are playing there, and there’s more.” She interrupts, her voice raising an octave. “The owner, Ronnie, said if we’re good enough he can arrange for us to play every other weekend.”

“You’re insane.” You shake your head slightly. “That’s like a place where people actually go for the music, what makes you think we can pull that off?”

Abbey points a finger at you, “You’re being a pessimist, and that’s not appreciated in here.” She waves her hands around, trying to assert her point. “We can and we will pull that off and take over the permanent spot on the weekends.”

“Is that what this is about?” Lena smirks, eyebrows raising at her friend. “It’s been a hot minute since you raged about that Harry boy.”

 “It’s not just about him, Adeline.” She barks, “It’s about us! We need to find our confidence again.”

 “Again?” You speak out, making her snap her eyes back at you.

“Yes, again.” She says, “We’re doing this and it’s gonna be wicked.”

You sigh, nodding in agreement as you exchange a knowing look with Lena.

In all fairness, the prospect of playing a gig at an actual music house is as exciting as it is scary. It’s not like you think you’re not able to pull it off, but the simple thought of having people actually paying attention to your presence on stage is enough to make you want to hide under your covers and never come out. But seeing Abbey so pumped about it, there’s no way in a million years you’d ever say no.

She was the one that wanted to start a band, after all. Before she dropped out, in what seems like ages ago, she was your roommate that would drag you around every time she had those spontaneous ideas, that is going out for pancakes at three in the morning, go on weekend trips to concerts two cities away, or, well, start a band herself.  

In the beginning, it was just the three of you, Abbey as the lead, you on the bass, and a girl you met on one of the said weekend trips, who had introduced herself as Lena, on the guitar. And not even a month later, you were all living together in a tiny house near the main street. 

At first, the biggest issue, to your surprises, was that you couldn’t find a drummer if your lives depended on it. Even after putting out posters around campus, you only got two calls from men whose only interest was the “all-girls band” part of it. Things got better when you met Jaz, a smiley girl from your Phonetics class. She wasn’t a drummer, but her boyfriend was, they both played for their High School band (which is how they met, a proper movie-worthy story if they’d ask you). And just like that, you got yourselves a drummer and a keyboardist.

For the next few months that followed you played on dirty bars and house parties, getting paid with tipsy pats on your backs, or, if you were lucky, maybe a pack of cheap drinks for you all to share. It’s the frustrating part of trying to get into the music path, you found, most serious places were not interested on a band with hardly any live experience and no original songs whatsoever. So you just had to take whatever opportunity came your way. Once, you even played on the birthday party of Lena’s manager’s daughter, which was probably the most disastrous experience of them all, considering a crowd of eight-year-olds and their posh moms weren’t exactly fond of listening to loud covers of Blondie. You got to play three full songs before one of them asked you to leave. 

The first time you actually got money was when Abbey dragged you and Lena to play on the sidewalk of the National Park, where people would come and go with their busy lives and full wallets. That was the best one, you easily got three hundred within a few hours of your open cases, which was split between the three of you at the end of the day.

Afterward, you wanted to play on the streets again, but Abbey wished more than just being a street performer, she yearned for the glow of the spotlights and a place on the stage. And it’s not like you lot didn’t think of it as well, how it would be like to have an actual gig. So, you just went back to the old routine of jumping from bar to bar.  Playing for people that couldn't care less about your presence on the small stage, focusing only on their cheap beers and drunk conversations. 

For a while it seemed like that was all there was to it, the music scene getting more congested by the minute, you thought there was no way you’d ever make it out there. There were moments you even thought about giving it up, if you were honest, setting your mind into getting your English degree that at least has the guarantee of a stable paycheck by the end of it. But as Abbey always says, there’s nothing you can’t do with a twist of your hair and a bat of your lashes. And somehow, she managed to be true to her word, presenting an opportunity to actually start taking this seriously.

And it would be a lie to say there isn’t an excitement growing at the pit of your stomach the more you think about it.

                                ❁         ❁        ❁ 

You’ve heard about the Blue Bird before.

Of course you have, it’s near to impossible not to. Being in a small town, predominantly surrounded by uni students, and that being the only music pub in the area, you’ve heard about it quite often. 

It’s become quite the hot spot for people interested in listening to good music while getting lost in the bottom of their beer glasses. With the only other competitor being a good forty-minute drive away, people go in crowds on the weekends as a getaway from their textbooks. You’re not sure why you’ve never been in it, though, only going as far as walking past it on your nightly walks during the week, listening to the faint sound of whatever band’s playing at the time. 

But if there’s one thing that’s always brought up when the subject is the Blue Bird is CHASM, more specifically Harry Styles. They have the permanent spot on the weekends and have become one of the main reason people - women, mainly - come in lots to have a spot inside the packed space. 

As much as his name comes up in a dreamy sigh and followed by a string of giggles when you hear it being mentioned by a classmate or overhear it somewhere in public, inside of your bubble he’s pretty much only mentioned in annoyed huffs or with a roll of eyes. If you’re honest, you know close to nothing about him, wouldn’t even be able to point him out on the street if you ever happen to cross paths. But you do know that Abbey is not fond of him in the slightest, so for that, you try to keep your distance from anything that has to do with Harry Styles.

You’re not sure how this hatred of her came to be and to be honest, you’ve never really been bothered enough to ask. Abbey doesn’t like a lot of people, her first impression of them it’s what she keeps in her heart with zero to no chance of changing it, so you just assume this Harry guy might’ve not given her a good one. It’s never really been something you really dwelled on, the circumstances in your life allowing you to ignore his existence unless he’s being spoken of. But it feels like a whole nother story now that you’ve essentially stolen his golden spot on the saturday night. 

The moment you walk into The Blue Bird is when you start to come to the realization that this is really happening. Not even a full step in, your eyes already dart to the big stage standing tall across from the entrance door, bigger than any other one you’ve ever been in -- being used to small platforms that barely have enough space to fit a drumset. it’s hard not to let your lips part in awe at the size of it all, the outside is rather modest compared to it, the only really striking detail being the LED sign with the name of the pub. There’s a large bar standing in the middle of the place, serving almost as a divisor of the two areas of the pub. The first area is the one you walk into as you first enter the place, with tables surrounding the space -- that now have their chairs propped on top of them, and you reckon this is where people sit around as they wait for the musical act of afterward when they can barely keep themselves up on their feet. The second area, however, it’s just empty of any barrier, except from the stools lined in front of the bar, meant mainly for people to crowd in front of the stage.

The walls are what catches your attention, though. The one where the front door stands is covered with magazines and newspaper cutouts of celebrities, scandalous headlines written in big bold letters, and random articles about their personal lives. On top of this big collage, there are band posters, you assume the ones that played in here, most of them stuck once to the wall, except for one that you can see multiple different colored papers with the same name written on it. 

You stop in front of one of them, one that’s just below your eyesight but catches your attention with the big blood-red letters that read CHASM on top of it, with a smaller font on the side saying  “live every weekend of ‘87” right below it. What you focus on, however, are the five faces staring back at you, their serious expressions looking almost haunting with the black and white filter. But it’s the one in the middle that your eyes immediately dart to. Unlike his bandmates, his lips are frozen with a slight smirk, small enough that wandering eyes could easily miss it, but still prominent enough that you can make out the shadow of a dimple on his cheek. His hair is settled in a wild nest, but not in a sloppy way, you decide, they’re a rockstar kind of messy. He’s handsome, there’s no doubt in that, just by looking at the small print of his face you can understand what the fuss is about, not that you’d ever admit that out loud. But it doesn’t keep your mind from wondering the color of his eyes and what it would be like to see them up close, as you look back at the taunting grin you think what could be the tone of his lips or--

“Lost something in there?” Lena’s voice makes you jump, turning swiftly to find her grinning at you. “You should come and start getting everything ready before Abbey finds you admiring our arch-nemesis.”

Your eyes widen, coughing in surprise as you try to regain composure after being caught. “I-- I wasn’t--”

She chuckles, turning to roam back to the stage before you can finish, throwing you one last look over her shoulder. “Sure thing, buttercup.”

You spare one last look to the poster before following her lead to the other side of the room where the rest of your friends are setting up the instruments on top of the stage. Once you locate your case tucked in the far left corner you quickly open it, finding your soft pink tinted bass resting inside of it. The Sesame Street sparkling stickers stuck to it glimmer from this angle (you got them in a favor bag from when you played at the birthday party), thanks to one of the spotlights shining directly at them. You pick the instrument up, adjusting the strap over your shoulder and giving the chords a few experimental strokes before looking up at the empty place.

There’s no denial of the anticipation that takes over every part of your body at the sight of the pub from the stage. A perfect mixture of excitement and anxiousness that lights up as you imagine how it will be like to see it filled up. It makes you gnawn at you bottom lip, jumping a bit on you feet as you move to connect your bass to the amplifier.

For a while, you just finish setting up the stage, tuning in the instruments, the sounds echoing on the empty space in a bit of a disarray, as you get used to the feeling of using proper sound equipment. You had the chance to meet the owner, Ronnie, for a brief minute as he strolled around the stage, observing you all before mumbling something about paying anything you broke and announcing he’d be in his office until opening hours. It wasn’t the warmest greeting you’ll admit, but you don’t really care, enjoying the opportunity nevertheless. 

Abbey arrives just a few minutes before the rehearsal is set to start, contemplating the view of everyone getting into a more of a harmonic arrangement before disappearing backstage for a moment without saying much of a word. When she comes back, she props herself in front of a big curved mirror cutting through one of the walls.

“Do you think you can do my makeup today, babe?” She calls back at you, gazing from over her shoulder with a slight pout on her ips.

“Sure.” You fiddle with the guitar pick between your fingers. “Do you want that rainbow look from last time?”

“Maybe something with less color this time.” She focuses back on her reflection, sighing loudly as fingers run through her locks. “I’m thinking of dying my hair black,” she tilts her head as if she’s envisioning her words. “I don’t know, just to try out something new.”

“That won’t make you look more like Joan Jett, you know.” A voice echoes in the empty space, bringing your attention to the entrance of the place.

And there he stands. The figure you had been staring at not long before, on the same poster stuck right behind where he is leaning, arms crossed and a smug look on his face. 

Harry stands there as if he just walked right out of the big screen, is the kind of beautiful you don’t see quite often outside a magazine cover. Not that it’s something that surprises you, considering you could tell from even a poorly printed image on a poster that the sharp curve of his jaw and the cut of his cheekbones could call anyone’s attention from afar. Even with what you find to be a rather plain outfit for someone like him, a simple white turtleneck tucked in his lightwash jeans, matched with a denim jacket, he still manages to stand out somehow. It’s almost compelling, really. And you can’t help but follow him with your eyes as he pushes himself off the wall, making his way towards the bar with an attitude as if he owns the place.

Abbey scoffs from her spot, arms crossing under her chest. “Unlike you, I don’t have to try to be someone else to get attention, Styles.”

He rests an elbow on top of the counter, chuckling as he points a finger at your friend. “You’re getting better at this, I’m proud.”

“What the fuck are you even doing here?” She barks, keeping a stern look pointed at him.

“Wanted to check out who stole our Saturday night spot, princess.” He spits back at her, words dancing around the room in a teasing manner. “When Ronnie said it was a bunch of newbies had to see it with my own eyes.” Unlike her, he doesn’t seem bitter at the situation in hand, but somewhat amused at the heated girl scoffing at him. From the distance you stand, you can’t make out details, but it’s still enough to notice the grin imprinted on his face, dimples marking his cheeks as he clenches his jaw, eyes wandering around the stage as he leans back fully to rest both elbows on top of the stool. “Plus, I get free booze before the House opens.”

As the words leave his lips his eyes meet yours, and you quickly realize you must’ve been staring for quite a while. You see the smirk growing on his face before you quickly look back at the forgotten bass in your hands. There’s a warmth creeping from your neck to the tip of your ears from getting caught all but gawking at him. You move your hands to the cords, beginning to tune the instrument as an attempt to cover-up. But when you take a peek at him you still find his eyes watching you, only enhancing the blush that’s now undoubtedly taking over your cheeks.

“You lot are way more organized than I expected.” He speaks up again, motioning towards Ross sitting by the side of the stage near the drumset.  “Got a roadie and everything.”

“Piss off!” Ross snarls back at him.

Harry just smiles. “Just taking a piss, mate.”

“I better not see you going around trying to get to one of my girls, Styles.” Abbey calls back from her shoulder as she jumps onto the stage, turning to face him. “Or you’re a dead man.”

“What’s that they can’t speak for themselves?” He arches his brows at her. “Where’s all that sexual freedom you love to brag about?”

“You’d love to use that as an excuse, wouldn’t you?” She toys with the mic stand. “You stay away from them.”

There’s no more banter once you begin the rehearsal. Harry grabbing a glass of a drink you can’t quite make out from the distance and moves to a spot tucked by the back of the place. Curiously, you catch yourself glimpsing in his direction every so often, but you can barely make out his silhouette due to the stage lights limiting your vision. At one point, when it dims down, you can see him scrunching over the table, focusing on a small journal sitting on top of it -- you find it odd his choice of place to do so, but don’t duel on it too much.

What keeps crawling back into your mind is Abbey’s words to Harry earlier, telling him to not try his way with any of you. She was talking about you. That much was clear, considering there’s not any other choice for him, with Jaz being very much compromised and Lena having no interest in engaging with men in any way. That leaves you as the only option that he could possibly pursue. It makes you think why she’d even consider that a possibility in the first place, but you push it to the back of your mind, concentrating on you bass lines until it’s around the opening hour and you’re getting ready backstage.

None of you are used to the concept of having a dressing room, so as undusted as it seems from a first glance, it still only helps to enhance the reality that hits you of this whole experience. The far voices from people starting to fill in the bar outside making your nerves become near overwhelming as you try to apply some eyeshadow with shaky hands. 

When you’re all ready to go, just about half an hour away from walking onstage, you try to dull your anxiety with a cup handed to you by Lena of something you’re not quite sure what it is but it tastes like oranges and tequila. You settle on a spot on the certainly old red couch prompted against the wall. Avoiding a big rip cutting through the middle of it, foam poking out of the hole, you try not to think of what could’ve caused it -- or all the other stains adorning it. 

There’s people coming and going around the space, the door not staying close for longer than a minute. Faster than you can process it, the room is suddenly crammed with people, none of which you recognize yet they greet you as if you’d been friends your whole life. Their loud voices mesh together, making it harder to even hear your own voice if you were to speak out loud. A strong scent of incense takes over the room, so intense you can feel the beginning of a headache. There are people stumbling on their feet trying to get to the stool across from you, where you catch a glimpse of a man with a messy mohawk snorting something out of a dirty bill. 

Two strangers found their sits next to you at some point - not paying the same attention you had to the rip scarring through the cushions. Both get lost in their conversation, the man’s fluffed curls poking your face occasionally when he gets too excited with the hand gestures. You catch a word or two when they try to include you in it, you offer a simple nod, not bothering to try and understand their muddled words.

It all starts to feel a bit overwhelming, the amount of strangers surrounding you along with the nervous feeling that’s already taking over your stomach -- the drink not being of any help at all. You look around trying to find a familiar face, but you can barely spot the green ends of Lena’s hair through the crowd. Gazing down at your wrist clock, you figure there’s enough time for you to find a emptier spot so you can calm yourself down.

“I think I’m gonna get some air.” You say to no one in particular, seeing the man’s head nodding from your peripheral vision as you maneuver your way between leather-clad bodies towards the door.

You’re met with a just as packed hallway. Searching for a more vacant space, you spot a sign indicating an exit door that had been pointed at you earlier as the back alleyway. Without a second thought, you make your way around the crowded space. The nest of feet makes you trip slightly, making you crash against a girl standing next to the door. You mutter a quick apology, but you’re only met with a pitched giggle in response.

Once you reach the door you all but jolt your way out of the building. The brisk night air hitting your face, bringing a sense of relief near to instantly. You close your eyes at the feeling, breathing in as the breeze dances around your face and messes with your air.

“Well, if it’s not one of Abigail’s bunnies.” A voice cuts through the air, breaking you from your moment of relief. Your eyes flutter open, meeting Harry’s irises watching you. He’s leaning back on the wall across from you, foot prompt up and jacket thrown over his shoulders. His fingers fiddle with a closed package of cigarettes, dimples shadowing on his face in amusement.

You blink at him, taking a second to process his words. “I’m not a bunny, whatever that means.”

His lips twitch up. “I’m sure you’re not, darling.”

You observe as he thumbs the package in hand open, quickly grabbing a cigarette and resting it between his lips. “Need a light for that?”

His brows shoot up. “Didn’t take you for a smoker, angel.”

“I’m not, my friends are.” You reach for the back pocket of your jeans, pulling out a tiny pink lighter and throwing it towards him.

He catches it, holding it up between his index and middle finger. “You carry that around for your friends?” He keeps his eyes trained on you as he raises the lighter, flicking it so it paints the end of the cigarette a fiery orange. You can’t help but notice the chipped black nail polish adorning his nails, a couple of rings hugging his fingers, only adding to his rockstar persona. His cheeks hollow around it, taking a slow drag exhaling smooth puffs of smoke out of his puckered lips. He points the end of the cigarette towards you. “That’s a good girl.”

You feel your breath hitch on your throat, looking down as you feel for the second time in the day a heat taking over your cheeks. Standing awkwardly in the middle of the alleyway, your gaze waves around checking a few other lone smokers not too far from you. When you peek at him again, he’s still watching you with the same smug look he had when he first walked in. From this distance you can get a better look at his face, with it’s full colors, and you make a point to figure the forest green of his eyes flickering under the dim light. 

You clear your throat, trying to fill in the silence that’s taken over the space. Keeping your eyes still trained on a random spot where the alley meets the street, you speak up,  “So, how did get a gig here?”

“Trying to get to know me now, love?” There’s a smug tone to his voice, and it makes you shoot your eyes at him.

You shake your head, scoffing softly. “Was trying to be nice, forget it.”

He lets the air fall quiet for a beat, the corner of his lips tugging up as he takes another drag of the cigarette. “My uncle owns the place.”

“Ronnie is your uncle?” You crease your eyebrows.

“Yup.” He props his foot down from the wall, kicking a small rock on the floor. “He’s a right prick, but he can be nice if you get on his soft spot.” He shrugs, eyes meeting yours. “What ‘bout you, bunny?”

 “What about me?”

“How did you get in the spotlight?”

You breathe out a laugh, shaking your head. “I’m not in the spotlight,” 

“You’re stepping on that stage in a few minutes, love, that’s hardly true.”

You chew on your lip, locking your eyes on your feet as you sway back and forth gently. “But I’m, like, on the invisible side of the stage.”

“Invisible side?” 

You shrug, trying to appear unflappable. “Yeah, well, no one ever notices the bassist.”

“I do.” He says without skipping a beat, and when you search for his eyes they’re aloof as if the words just left his lips without a single implication behind them. You wonder if there is one. Or maybe you’re just reading too much into it. Nonetheless, it doesn’t stop a flock of butterflies to sweep on your stomach as he shoots you a warm smile. He motions to the door behind you with his head, “Better get going, darling, if someone spots us talking they might think we’re friends.”

                                 ❁         ❁        ❁ 

“Did you see how crazy they went when we did Call Me?” Abbey leans over the table, not paying any mind to the way it starts to tilt towards her side. You and Jaz quickly balance the weight, straightening surface before the filled cups can start sliding down and causing a mess. You give her a scolding look for not being careful, but she doesn’t even look at you, only picking a fry from the pile in the middle and dipping inside her vanilla milkshake, sitting back and elbowing Lena next to her playfully. “And to think you said it’s not a gig song.”

“I didn’t say that.” Lena shakes the cup in her hand, circling the straw as to mix the melting ice cream inside, completely unfazed by her friend’s tease. “Just said we should do something new if people wanted old songs they would tune on that good times radio station, or whatever it’s called.”

“People like listening to classics!” Abbey protests, raising her voice bit, she’s either forgotten she’s in public or is just simply too stoned to care. Either way, you try to shush her, muffling a giggle with the back of your hand as you see a group two tables down looking back at her. She only huffs, leaning back down on her seat, “What do you suggest we play, then? Duran Duran?”

“I like Duran Duran.” You pester, trying to repress a smile as she shoots you a pointed look.

“I actually think Duran Duran is a great idea.” Lena backs you up, the same taunting smile reflecting on her face as she says it looking at you. 

“You two are completely insane if you think I’m singing new wave, might as well start to fill in for a new vocalist.” She shoves her hand full of fries, dropping to her side of the table with a shrug.

“Jaz you think that girl from your choir is available? The blonde one?” Lena bites into her straw, barely containing her laugh as Abbey narrows her eyes at her.

You watch in amusement from across the table, the contrast between Lena and Abbey looking comical as they continue to banter at each other. In one side there’s Lena who’s leaning back on the wall next to her, her neon pink jumpsuit standing out from anyone else in your group, hair hardly styled, being more of a nest in her head, the sides shaved and the back falling on her shoulders in a mullet. On the other side, Abbey’s swallowed in black, the only color being the red of her hair, that’s pushed up in a high side ponytail.

It was her idea to come to the diner after the gig, declining every offer of an after party (which is new for her) and insisting you had to have this moment to decompress together as a band. What you didn’t take account of, is that a diner on a Saturday night isn’t exactly a deserted place. So after spending an hour sitting on the parking lot, waiting for a table, you finally got yourselves a booth tucked by the back. And now as the place gets clearer and quieter by the minute, after getting your round of burgers, you share a big pile of fries, not ready to leave and sleep on this experience just yet.

“You know who also seem to enjoy the show? That Harry dude.” The mention of his name calls your attention to Lena. “Caught him in the corner a couple times watching us.”

You take a sip of his drink, trying to mask any expression that exposes the fact that you’d noticed too, maybe more than just a couple times.

To your relief, everyone focuses on Abbey as she lets out an annoyed huff. “Why’d you bring him up of all people.” She picks up her nearly empty cup a bit too harshly, her voice rising again. “He called me a Joan Jett wannabe! Fucking prick.”

 “You do dress like her,” Lena raises her brows in defiance.

“It’s called an inspiration, Adeline, doesn’t mean I’m trying to be her.” She barks at her friend. “Doesn’t give that knobhead the right to be a dick about it.”

“Why don’t you like him?” The question slips out of your lips before you can stop it, and you regret it as soon as all eyes on the table set on you, Abbey’s face creasing in an incredulous look as if the answer was obvious.

 “Are you serious? Did you hear how he spoke to us?”

“I don’t know,” You shrug, looking down at your lap, fiddling with the hem of your shorts. “Just seemed like he was trying to get a rise out of you.”

“He’s got a stick up his ass, babe. A full narcissist, it’s ridiculous.” She shakes her head, scrunching her nose in aversion. “He’s also a complete womanizer, it’s disgusting if you ask me.”

“I guess,” You gaze up at her.”

“Babe, he’s a charmer, I’ve seen it before, he knows how to sweet talk someone.” She explains in a sigh. “They’re all like that.”

“They?”

“Men in bands.” She picks up another fry, poking it on her forehead as she makes her point. “Have their heads bigger than the whole stage, think they can do just about anything.”

“Suppose that’s true,” You agree, not wanting to get further in this discussion.

She smiles, biting a piece of the fry before pointing it at you. “It is, which is why we are smart girls and don’t fuck with them.”

                                 ❁         ❁        ❁

You’re aware that going for a walk by yourself at night is not a very secure choice. 

Even living in what you feel like could be the most monotone town in the area (where the biggest report on the local news was when two boys got stuck on a tree thanks to a dare with their friends). But it still doesn’t stop you from being careful, only going around the busier streets, watching the movement of people - mostly students - chatting the night away on the filled pub table, enjoying the short break between studies before going back at it once the weekend’s over. 

You stroll around with not much of a purpose, really, only needing a bit of time to yourself every so often when you feel the turmoil in your home becomes to much (on those weekends when both your roommates decide to stay home). So you just go on your usual path, breathing in the night air and enjoying some alone time.

The ending of your course is marked by none other than the Blue Bird, standing in a corner of the main street.

 A small group of people is gathered in front of it, smoking their cigarettes. You stare at them for a minute as you get closer to the led lights indicating the entrance of the pub, the girls with their bright-colored outfits, hair styled and puffed up as they laugh along to whatever one of the boys has said. One of them has a leather jacket thrown over her shoulder that almost swallows her figure, and you can only assume that it belongs to the man talking to her, leaning back on a payphone, the quiff in his hair so high it makes him look like a knock-off John Travolta. The thought makes you breathe out a laugh to yourself.

Once you reach the entrance you look at it mindlessly, not being able to see much from outside except the string curtain hanged on top of the open door. You turn on your heels, ready to start making your way back, but as you pay attention to the muffled sounds coming from inside the pub you stop on your tracks. A familiar tune catching your attention, making you turn in the direction of the entry. Somebody to Love. 

It peaks your curiosity. If you’re honest, you feel like covering a Queen song is probably one of the most bound for disaster decisions someone can make. But as you feel yourself approaching the entrance, the voice of whoever’s singing it all but lures you inside. It’s not the same as the original, of course, but the lower tone to it fits it just as beautifully and once you fully walk in you can almost feel your heart skip a beat to find Harry standing on stage. His eyes closed in concentration. 

It’s saturday. His saturday night. You forgot about that.

You don’t dare to try to mend amongst the crowd of people packed in front of the stage, making your way to the bar. You thankfully find an empty stool without much of a fight, allowing you a perfect vision of the stage.

Harry is playing the guitar, his voice blending perfectly with the vocals of the girls in the background, eyes closed as he feels every lyric coming out of his throat. His stage look is much different than the one he wore back when you first saw him, it’s something you reckon not many people could rock out as good as he does. A mismatched suit, light green blazer with a pink blouse underneath, along with bright blue trousers -- it’s as if he picked one piece from different colored suits (which you assume he probably did). The locks of his hair are no longer running wild on his head, instead, it’s gelled back, a single rebel strand falling charmingly against his forehead. You wonder if it’s on purpose.

It’s quite a sight to see him like this, you’re not gonna lie. All suited up with no tie, the blouse only partially buttoned so you notice a tease of some tattoos on his chest. You’d noticed his good looks before, it’s impossible not to, but there’s something about the stage glow that makes it impossible to look away from him. It’s mesmerizing.

To your surprise, the rest of his set mainly consists of originals, and unlike you’d expect for any amateur band that dares to sweep away from covers, he manages to hold the crowd’s attention as if he’s singing any other hit song you hear on the radio. Even not knowing the lyrics, people cheer along to the songs, moving to the beat as best as they can in the crowded space. And that’s a direct result of the charisma he holds while standing on stage.

It’s entrancing, really, how he holds himself as if he was born to be doing this. And you think maybe he was. 

There’s a mischievous glow to him, when he rocks out to his own songs, grinding slightly against the mic stand. A gesture that makes you flustered even from your seat a couple of meters away. You couldn’t keep your eyes off of him even if you tried. And you’re sure as hell not trying.

At one point you feel a poke in your arm, turning around to be met with the barman who recognizes you from the week prior. He greets you with a shout over the noise, offering you a drink on his account. Your first instinct is to refuse, considering you weren’t even supposed to stay for long, but after a bit of insisting on his part you accept with a shy smile.

By the time he’s ending the last song, you’re at the edge of your seat, catching yourself wishing you could see more of him. The lights in the audience turn on as he wraps up the set, and just before he bows down with the rest of his band his eyes wander in your direction. It’s so quickly that you think you could’ve just imagined it, considering his eyes don’t meet yours again, only rushing his way backstage.

You blink at the empty spot where he once stood for a moment, almost feeling frozen in place as you try to take in what happened. Turning on your stool to face the bar, you gaze down at your forgotten drink. You hold it to your lips, deciding to finish it so you can ease your way out before anyone else spots you. Your attempt is frustrated, however, when you hear a voice coming from behind you.

“Reckon Abbey Road would throw a fit if she knew you’re wandering around watching my concert.” You turn to face Harry, finding him looking down at you, signature smirk making his dimples poke onto his cheeks. His hands are hidden inside the pockets of his dress pants and he’s taken off his blazer, causing the pink of his blouse to stand out even more.

You chew the inside of your lip. “I can make my own decisions, you know.”

“That’s good to hear, bunny.” His smile grows, hand leaving the pocket to motion at the empty spot next to you. “Mind if I sit here?”

“Be my guest.”

He sits on the empty stool, turning to the bartender that’s handing a drink to a man standing behind you. “Can you give the lady another one of what she was drinking? On my tab.”

“Oh you don’t have to, I was about to--” You begin, but the man behind the counter doesn’t care to listen, only picking up your empty glass and moving away to fill it up. “leave.”

“Already?” Harry arches his eyebrows, resting his arm on top of the counter and leaning towards you. His voice comes out a bit softer, dropping the playful tone, “let me buy you a drink, angel.”

You ignore the way the hairs on your neck rise at the petname. “You really don’t have to--”

“I want to.”

“Okay.” You breathe out, not being able to hold back your smile once his own grows on his face.

As if on cue, the bartender comes back with two glasses, setting them in front of the two of you. You don’t fail to note the fact that he gives Harry his drink without being asked to.

He picks up his glass, holding it up, to which you do the same, clinking your glasses slightly before taking a sip.  “So, what brings you here tonight? Measuring the competition?”

 “I was just walking around, heard a lousy cover of Somebody To Love, and decided to come in.”

He throws his head back a bit in laughter, nose scrunching adorably. You have to look away as to not find yourself staring. “A Queen fan, then?”

 “You could say so.”

“A pretty girl with a good taste in music, gonna steal m’heart if you keep going, bunny.” And just like that, it’s like he takes all the words out of your mind. You only let out a small chuckle, taking a sip of your drink as you look away to cove the blush that paints your cheeks. His eyes are still trained on you, though. “Was it any good?”

“Huh?” You blink back at him.

“The cover.” He grins. “Or was it really that lousy?”

“Oh, it was amazing.” You say truthfully, clearing your throat. “You have a beautiful voice.”

“Thank you.” He bows his head slightly, smiling at you. And unlike before, it’s not smug, but rather warm, you smile back at him. “Enjoyed the show, then?”

“I did.” You nod.

“I’m glad.” He runs his finger around the brim of his glass, tapping against it once with a click of his ring against the glass.  “What would you change about it?”

The question takes you back. “What would I change?” 

 “Yeah.” He clasps his hands over his lap, moving his feet on the floor so his stool swivels from one side to the other.

“Uhm…” You crease your brows, trying to hack your brain for an answer. Your eyes land on his blouse, still halfway unbuttoned. “Your shirt.”

“M’shirt?” He questions, brows shooting towards his hairline, clearly not expecting the answer. He gazes down at the piece on his body, fingers pitching the material as he looks back at you. “What’s wrong with it?”

“Not a big fan of pink.” You shrug.

“Now, we just can’t have that, bunny.” He clicks his tongue. “Pink is the new color of rock n roll!”

You chuckle. “Says who?”

“Says me.”

You roll your eyes playfully. “Oh, I’m sorry then, mister rockstar.”

His face lights up in a giggle, lips parting to say something but before he can let the words out a hand rests on his shoulder calling both your attentions to the man standing next to him. You recognize him from standing next to Harry on stage as the guitar player.

“We’re hopping over to Eamon’s.” He doesn’t acknowledge you until Harry’s eyes hover over in your direction. 

“That’s fine, think I’ll stay behind this time.” Harry looks back at his friend, but you see him glimpsing at you from the corner of his eyes.

You watch as his friend raises his brows, gazing between the two of you in a curious manner. You clear your throat, shifting in your seat as you look at them. “ It’s fine, I should get going anyway.”

“You don’t have to,” he says in a blink, a smirk twitching on his lips almost as if to cover up how quickly he said it. He turns back to his friend, who’s still watching the interaction with raised eyebrows.  “You can go without me, I’ll see you all tomorrow.”

“Harry, you didn’t have to.” You subconsciously reach for his arm, retracting your touch just as fast when he glances at it. Clearing your throat, you play with “I really should get going, I was supposed to be on a walk after all.”

“Let me walk you back then,” he gets up from his stool, giving his friend a brief hug before turning back to you and extending his hand for you to take. Your lips part to protest, feeling as if you’re holding him back even though it was his decision to stay behind, but before the words can even come out of your mouth he beats you to it,  “there’s no way I’m letting you go home by yourself this late, love.”

You sigh, shoulder dropping in defeat as you hold back a smile. Taking his hand, you stand up, “okay.”

The main street hasn’t exactly quieted down since you first walked by it, in fact, it only seems like it’s gotten rowdier. Time only increasing the buzz wandering in the air around the people filling the bars, voices louder, filled glasses clinking more frequently. As you stroll through it side by side there’s a comment or to that floats in the air, but you have to all but shout it, fighting with the turmoil of noise.

As soon as you turn into the first street away from the crowds it’s as if someone had turned off the sound completely, the nest of voices getting far-off in the distance and the loudest sound being of the night breeze kissing the tree branches above you. You can feel Harry glancing up at you from the corner of your eye and it doesn’t take long until his voice echoes in the air in an attempt to make small talk.

It’s surprising to you, how easy it is to be drawn in a conversation with him. Harry’s essentially not the same offstage as he is under the spotlight, most people aren’t. There’s no need for him to bloat his charisma when talking to you, he’s quieter. Shy, almost. And it takes you back a bit, to see such contrast in a short amount of time. 

The magnetic force to him, however, still lingers even when he’s like this. You feel drawn to it, wanting to hear him speak about everything that comes to mind, just to savor the way he articulates his words, voice so calm and low it sends an electric chill down your spine. As he tells you about his music inspirations, going on the story about the time he traveled alone to crash a Fleetwood Mac concert, hands brushing against yours when he walks, you catch yourself wondering what it would feel like to link them together.

Once you reach your street, just a block away from the entrance gate of your home, you notice the front lights are yet to be turned off, indicating your roommates are still up and around -- most likely arguing about MTV’s top ten of the week. The realization makes you come to an abrupt stop, catching Harry off guard as he takes a few steps before realizing you stayed behind. 

“Wait.” You say once he turns around, brows furrowed in a silent question as to why you stopped. “Uhm… You can drop me off here… It’s fine.”

“What do you mean? Is it too far? I don’t mind walking-”

“No!” You interrupt. “It’s not that, my house is right there, see?” You point to the bricked building no too far from where you stand.

“Why do y’want me to drop you off here, then?” The crease on his face deepens.

“I-- it’s just--” you begin, not knowing how to say it. “It’s just the girls are still awake, and..”

“Ah,” he clicks his tongue, an amused grin expanding on his cheeks. “Don’t wanna get scolded for hanging out with the enemy.”

“Don’t say like that.” You chuckle at yourself, looking down in embarrassment. “They just will never let me hear the end of it.”

“I get it, bunny.” He takes easy steps towards you, closing the space as he stands tall in front of you. You hold your breath as you look up at him, meeting his irises glimmering in enjoyment, dimples shadowing on his cheek. His hand reaches up, moving a strand of your hair behind your ear and you swear if he gets any closer he’ll be able to hear your heart thumping in anticipation. “Had a lovely time with you.”

“Me, uhm--” you clear your throat as your voice cracks, blood flooding your cheeks. “Me too.”

The streetlight above gives his face a golden glow that almost takes your breath away, his hair glistening in the light due to the gel pushing it back, and now even more rebel strands curl against his forehead. You half expect him to lean down, you don’t know why he would, but for a moment it seems like he will. To your dismay, however, he steps back, giving you one last smile before moving out of your way on the sidewalk. “I’ll see you around, then.”

                                 ❁         ❁        ❁ 

“I have some exciting news for you.”

Abbey’s voice startles you, not realizing she’d entered the dressing room while you focused on the book on your lap. Since you’ve gotten a spot at every other weekend on the pub, your routine just seemed to get even more busy, with rehearsals almost every day. So, because of that you barely find time to do your assignments. And with a book report due just around the corner, you’d thought maybe you could sneak in some reading time after the gig when everyone’s down at the bar and not prancing and screaming around the dressing room.

 Your assumptions shows itself to be wrong, however, when your perky friend bounces her way to where you sit. She kneels next to the couch, crossing her arms on top of your legs and resting her chin on them, looking up at you expectantly, lips lifted in a side grin. 

“What is it?”

“Got us an after-party, babe.” you notice a few colored lollies in her hand when she removes the plastic protecting a red one, shoving it between your lips before you can even protest. “And you’re coming with us.”

“I’d love to but I have class tom—“ Your voice is muffled around the sweet. 

She rolls her eyes, standing to sit next to you on the arm of the couch. “You should stop wasting your life with an outdated system” 

“You mean getting a degree?” 

“Do you watch the news? We’re about to be the last generation to live fully, the world is about to break into nuclear wars all around.” She says as a matter-of-fact, turning to rest her legs on top of your lap. “Cosmo said we probably won’t even make it to the 2000s” 

“Who’s Cosmo?” 

She sighs, reaching to move a strand of your hair behind your ear. Her voice comes out soft, but calculated, “what matters is that we should enjoy our time while we have it.” 

“You’re giving a whole speech about nuclear war to convince me to go to a party with you.” You arch your brows at her. 

“Yes.” 

You sigh, shoulders falling in defeat as you let yourself be convinced. “Okay. But I’ll—” 

“Great!!” She squeals, moving her legs from your lap and leaning down to grab your face, pressing a quick kiss on top of your hair before jumping from the couch, and out of the room. 

Once you arrive at the location of the after-party, Abbey leads you and Lena to a tall gate by the side of the house, explaining that you’re walking in from the back garden, considering the front door is locked. You find it odd, and if wasn’t for the muted sound of instruments echoing inside the bricked walls of the place, you’d doubt there was even a party happening here at all. The front of it was as regular as the other surrounding suburbian homes, grass neatly trimmed and the front lights turned off, as if nobody was even home.

Which is why you’re visibly taken back when you walk by the gate into the back area, finding an old vintage bus that could be around ten or even twenty years old, sitting in the middle of the grass. The wheels of it have been taken off, and every inch of the exterior is covered by graffiti, so much you couldn’t even make out the original color of it if you tried. Some of them are unreadable scribbles tangling on top of each other. Some are colorful drawings painted over them -- two sunflowers catch your attention, marked just above where the wheel would be, growing tall along the side and above the window.

“I know, right?” Abbey nods at your astounded expression. “Legend says John Lennon signed it somewhere.”

“Really?” You look at her, not able to hold back the way your voice pitches in amazement.

“Dunno, never looked for it.” She shrugs. “C’mon I’ll show you.”

She grabs your hand, dragging you to the side of the vehicle pointing at some random drawings and explaining the rumors behind their meanings. You try to concentrate on her excited babbles, but as you see Lena walking away from the corner of your eye you look up to watch her meet with a girl you’ve never seen. Before you can focus back on your friend, something else catches your attention, sitting on a wooden bench under a large tree, no too far from where you stand.

Harry’s in a small group sat in a circle. You recognize two men from his band sitting on the grass with guitars propped on their laps, one being the same that interrupted you the night at the bar. The rest are women who seem to have come right out of Fleetwood Mac’s tour bus, their long hairs pushed back with hairbands and earthtoned flare pants. But you barely even care about the ones sitting on the grass, humming along to the strings of the guitars. What grabs your attention is the one next to harry on the bench, her arm draped over his shoulder as she dabbles flower petals playfully on his hair. 

You hardly take in his appearance, half-mindedly noticing the tattoos decorating his arms that pokes out of his tank top and the twirls on his hair as the girl winds her fingers on it. it’s hard not to remember Abbey’s words when she said he knows how to sweet talk his way around, and the thought of having fallen down on his trap only makes your heart pang on your chest. 

“-- That’s basically why they won’t let anyone paint over it anymore.” You turn back to Abbey as she points to the sunflowers you’d spotted earlier, nodding along as if you’d heard everything she said. She looks at you, “but I like this way better, don’t you think?” 

“Yeah.” You agree, not exactly knowing what to.  

She wraps her arm around yours, and you grasp the minty scent of her perfume as she pulls you close. “Let’s go inside.” 

There’s an urge inside of you to peek back over your shoulder to catch a last glimpse of Harry, but you push it to the back of your mind, allowing Abbey to guide you around the bus where the entrance door is hanging open. 

A small group of people greet you inside the bus, amongst them is the said ‘Cosmo’.  He seems like the exact kind of person you’d imagine Abbey hanging around on her weekends’ escapades. Dressed in a baby blue velvet suit with nothing underneath his blazer except a few of - what you assume - hand-painted tattoos, matching with a rainbow stripe drawn on the side of his face, starting at the bridge of his nose and going all the way to the curve of his jaw. His hair hits just around his shoulders, the sides shaved so it’s like a puffed version of a mullet, edges dyed in a bright shade of red. He toys with a lit joint between his purple lips, picking it up and offering to you with a raise of his brows.

Normally you’d decline the offer, especially coming from someone you’d just met, but there’s an annoying feeling settling itself at the pit of your stomach. One you want to ignore but can only do so much to dull it, so you accept the joint, reaching for it and placing it in your mouth. 

You’re not a regular smoker by any means, and when you inhale you can feel the smoke burning your throat as it moves down to curl inside your lungs. It makes you want to cough it out but you hold it in, trying to take in everything before huffing it out in a choked breath.

“Do you want a drink?” One of the girls asks you, already pouring you a purple drink inside a labeless plastic bottle.

“What’s in this?” You accept the cup, giving her an skeptic look.

“Pure fuel, babe.” Abbey leans on your shoulder from behind.

You hang out in the bus for a while, and, to your surprise, you don’t feel left out as they keep notice to include you in their conversations. The drink ends up being not that bad, and, even having no idea what’s in it except for the very artificial citric taste mixed with some very strong cheap alcohol, you still refill your cup after you finish it. 

It’s a nice feeling, to get a bit looser in a party and allowing yourself to have some adventurous fun. And as time goes by and your mind gets cloudier, the group starts to disperse. Two of them find a spot in the back with as much privacy as they could get in a party to swallow each others faces. Another one passes out in one of the seats behind you, hugging the empty plastic bottle as if it’d run away from them. It leaves just Abbey and Cosmo with you, discussing with each other about something that you’ve stopped paying attention a long while ago.

You just watch them silently, resting your head back on the seat and feeling the late hours weightening on your eyelids. You feel like you could doze off at any moment, but what stops you from it is a loud screeching sound of an amplifier from inside the house. It startles you, making you jump slightly on your seat as you hear a voice speaking almost like a groan, and you’re not sure if it’s your drunken mind or the inaudible words but you can’t make out a single thing that’s being said. A crease deepens between your eyebrows and you turn to question your friend about it but, before you can do so what seems like the most obnoxious cover of  We Built This City starts playing.

Abbey gasps as the chords of the song somehow get even louder, grasping her hand on the man’s arm. “Oh my god!” She squeals, exchanging a look with Cosmo as they both all but jump from their seats. She glances down at you, “We’re going in, are you coming?”

You raise your brows at her, trying to hide the scrunch on your face. “I’m good.”

She nods, making her way out of the bus, her feet stumbling on each other as she holds onto her friend’s shoulder to keep her balance. And just like that, you’re left alone on the leather seat.

You peek at the couple in the back, eyes bulging slightly as you see the girl has lost her shirt, the boy’s hands caress her chest as they keep their lips locked harshly. Deciding to give them a bit more privacy, you make your way out of the bus as well, the contrast from the compact air inside the vehicle to the crisp wind of the outdoors sending chills down your body.

Looking around, you realize most people hanging around are gone, probably gone inside the house. You can’t help but let your eyes wander to the spot you’d seen Harry earlier, and you don’t hold back the shock in your face when you find him still sitting on the bench, but this time with no one else around him. He fiddles with a lighter on his hand, flickering every so often to watch the weak flame before letting it die again. 

Your feet start to move before you can really grasp that you’re walking towards him, your head still a bit cloudy from the substances in your bloodstream. He looks up once you get close to him, signature smirk growing on his lips as he glances up at you.

“Look what we have here.” He leans back, “a lost bunny.” 

“Hi, Harry.” You say simply.

His smile turns a bit softer. “Where are your bandmates?”

“Celebrating.” You shrug.

“Shouldn’t you be as well?”

“I am.” You hold up the mostly empty red cup.

He chuckles. “I see, having fun by yourself then?”

You focus on a spot beyond his head, suddenly feeling timid under his gaze. “Seems like it.”

“Want to join my private party here?” He shifts to his side, patting the spot next to him. “S’very exclusive, as you can see.”

“Well, I’m honored to be invited, then.” You sit down on the space he made for you.

For a moment, there’s a silence between the two of you, the only sound being the jarring cover of  Everybody Wants to Rule The World. The notes of it are so off that you can’t help but huff a relieved breath when it comes to an end, enjoying the few seconds of silence before they begin another song. 

A small groan leaves your lips when the noise starts again, catching Harry’s attention as you feel his eyes land on the side of your face. “It should be illegal to ruin great songs like this.” You shake your head to yourself, speaking your thoughts out loud in a rush of confidence. “They should get arrested for it.”

He chuckles. “You’re not wrong.”

Your eyes dart at him, meeting his. It’s hard to miss the way his irises glimmer under the moonlight. When he glances down at the lighter still in his hands you take the opportunity to really have a look at him. The proximity makes you aware of a small constellation of freckles kissing his nose, and the stubble starting to poke out the skin along his jawline. You want to blame the haziness in your mind for the thoughts of how it would feel like to have it scratching against your skin. Or how it would feel under your lips as you nibble your way all the way to his rosy lips. You want to push these away, belittle them as nothing but drunken thoughts. But you know very well it wouldn’t be the first time you’ve let yourself be entertained by them.

A pitched scream takes you out of your head. You realize there’s been a beat of silence since he’s spoken, so you clear your throat, a warmth creeping up on your neck as if he’d been able to hear your thoughts. “Do you know them?”

He shakes his head slightly. “Not really, no. They played in the pub once, Ronnie hated them.” He glances at you, corner of his lips itching upwards. “Call themselves Crystal Illusion, so there’s that.”

“Christ.” You can’t help but roll your eyes. “And here I thought it couldn’t get any worse.”

The sound of his giggle makes you look back at him, catching the sight of his dimples carving deep on his cheeks. “You’re really something, aren’t you, bunny?”

“Why do you call me that?” The question rolls of your tongue before you can even think about it. His brows raise at your question, and you decide to enjoy the rush of confidence and pick on it further. “Dunno if I’m supposed to feel offended or charmed.”

 “Don’t mean it as a tease, can tell that much.” He smiles, shrugging slightly. “You just remind me of a bunny.”

The words pique your curiosity. “How so?”

He looks back down to his lap, and if it wasn’t for the poor lighting you would be sure of the blush taking over his cheeks. “Just all cute -- could tell you were a bit reserved, and like, curious. Had your eyes wandering all around when I first saw you.” He moves his head around lightly as if to explain his point and you have to bite back a smile. “And when you were focused you’d scrunch your nose a bit. Like a bunny.”

“I’m glad you didn’t say I have big ears.” You try to humor, searching for his eyes.

He laughs, looking up at you. “I mean, now that you’ve mentioned it…”

Your gasp shifts into a giggle as you push him away playfully. “Well, if I’m a bunny...” You pause, racking your mind to think of an analogy for him, but your mind is still a bit slowed down, your thoughts taking a beat too long to catch up to your words. When you glance down to the arm that’s brushing against yours, you notice the tattoo peaking on his skin. You reach for it without thinking about it, fingers tracing the ink as you take in the drawing, his eyes follow your touch curiously. “Then you’re an eagle.” You cringe to yourself as soon as the words come out of your mouth, attempting to mask it as you breathe out a laugh.

He arches his brows, lips fluttering, trying to hold back a smile. “You think I’ll kill you?”

“Oh shit, you’re right.” You cover your face with your hand, shaking your head at yourself. “Didn’t think that one through.” Your laughs meld together for a moment, slowly dying off and giving space a comfortable silence. The only sounds being the nightly hum of cicadas and the whisper of the breeze against the branches of the trees, that and, well, the faint screams of instruments from inside the house. Looking up at him, a breath hitches when you realize the proximity of his eyes to yours. You try to tease him but when you speak your voice comes out lower than you expected, almost in a whisper,  “so you think I’m cute?”

“Course I do.” He says in a blink. “Don’t think that’s much of a secret, love.”

You chew on your bottom lip, not missing the way his eyes dart down on your face. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

“Yeah?” He smirks, wiggling his eyebrow teasingly. “Think I’m pretty?”

“I won’t inflate your ego if that’s what you want.”

“I tried.” He breathes out a laugh, eyes moving back down on your face but this time he doesn’t rush them back to yours, not hiding the intent of his gaze. For the first time, you’re glad for the background noise, afraid that if it wasn’t for it he’d be able to hear the thumping of your heart.“Can I kiss you?”

“Huh?” You blink at him, not because you didn’t hear him, but because you’re a bit taken back at the forwardness of the question.

 He moves his arm to rest on the back of the bench, turning his hand to play with the tips of your hair. “Can I kiss you, bunny?” He repeats.

You nod before you can find it in you to voice your answer, clearing your throat, “yes.”

The hand that’s not in your hair moves to caress your cheek, he takes a moment to look at you, thumb rubbing your cheek gently before he leans in. Your eyes flutter close instinctively, holding your breath in anticipation as you feel his lips on the corner of your mouth. He keeps them there for a beat before pulling back, tilting your face a little just to finally close the space between your mouths.

The kiss starts slow. Uncertain, even. His lips are soft against yours, warm breath hitting your cupid bow as he sucks in your bottom lip gently. You feel his hand cupping your jaw, sneaking behind your neck as he pulls you closer and you all but melt under his touch. Being this close you can smell the scent of his cologne mixed with the smoke of cigarettes, and something about it is so sensual you can’t help but grip on his shirt as to have something to hold on to.

You can feel yourself getting lost on his touch, shamelessly scooping to the side as you enlace your thighs for the sake of being closer to him. His hand falls on your knee, rubbing it as your tongue line on his bottom lip.

It’s the sound of the door that leads to the house sliding open that falls like a bucket of ice water on your head, reminding you of your surroundings, and that you’re not, in fact, alone with him in the garden, which means any of your friends could easily spot you if they were to walk outside.

  It’s almost like he reads your mind when you pull away from him, loosening your grasp on the material of his shirt. His lips don’t let you get far, trailing their way along your jaw until he can bite on your lobe. “Relax, petal” He whispers, pulling back to look at you as your noses brush together. “They won’t see us, even if they do they’re probably too stoned to even care.”

You let out a weak chuckle, gazing at the door where a group of people stumble their way towards the bus, voices loud as they slur incoherent words. It’s hard to see inside the house as most of the lights inside seem to be turned off, but you can tell how packed it is, bodies pressed so close together it makes you wince slightly just with the thought of being amongst them. Looking back at him, you ponder for a second before nodding. “You’re right.”

A grin paints on his face before he leans in, closing the space between you once again.

                                 ❁         ❁        ❁ 

“Still with us?” A call of your name on the mic snaps you out of your thoughts.

Looking up, you’re met with your bandmates curious eyes staring right at you and you realize you’ve probably been too lost in your own head to pay attention to the conversation in hand. Your lips part for a split second, trying to think of an answer that doesn’t give away your lack of focus but a single look at Abbey’s arched brows and you know you’ve been caught. 

You clear your throat, lips tugging on a guilty smile. “Sorry, I am now.” 

It’s hard not to let your eyes glimpse to the back of the room, where the sole reason for your distraction sits quietly on his regular spot, tucked behind his journal and doing his own thing. But you hold back the stare, knowing your moves were being watched by your friend who’s back to talking about the setlist changes for the night, and who would not be happy in the slightest to notice your wandering eyes falling on the one person she despises the most. You wonder how she’d react if she got her hands on the piece of paper burning through the back pocket of your denim shorts. 

The message was short and simple, but the connotation behind it carried a much stronger meaning to it.

Meet me in the back before the gig, want to see you. -H

You found it tucked inside your case, lying innocently on top of your bass, apparent enough so anyone who’d opened the case could’ve found it before you. Surely, no one else did, otherwise, you wouldn’t hear the end of it from the minute you’d stepped into the place. Which makes you wonder how he managed to slip in the note sneakily enough without anyone noticing it, but the curiosity is well dulled in your mind by the pounding of your heart.

To your dismay, however, you barely got a look at him throughout the rehearsal. You got to The Blue Bird later than you’d intended to, the tutoring session you had on the day ended up running later than you’d expected. So by the time you stepped through the string curtains of the pub  Harry was already tucked on the shadowy corner and everyone else was hanging by the stage waiting for you, barely giving you a second to set your bag in the dressing room.

So it’s hard for you not to stare when he gets up from his seat, walking into the lighter space of the bar with his signature smirk painted on his face. You’d just gone through the last song of your set for the second time -- an amplified version of Girls Just Wanna Have Fun (Lena insisting on repeating it after messing up on the first try). He’s holding a maroon leather jacket on his arm, along with his journal, leaving his arms bare under his Bowie tank top -- which, as he approaches the stage you notice the uneven hem on the sleeves, suggesting he might’ve cut them off himself.  His hair is running wild as usual, the fringe curling against his forehead and you chew on your lip at the thought of running your hands through it as you did not even a week ago.

He reaches to the back pocket of his jeans, pulling out a pack of cigarettes as he reaches the end of the stage. “That was a great one, everybody, maybe if you keep it going we can get you a spot on that wacky show they’re premiering.” He sets the stuff he’s carrying on the stage floor, crossing his arms on top of it. “What’s it called again? ‘S like ‘gag me with a spoon’ or something like that.”

“We wouldn’t want to steal your spot again.” The words leave your lips before you can process them, for a moment forgetting you’re not alone with him so your playful tease can be easily interpreted as mocking. 

He rests the things he’s carrying on his arm on the stage floor, hoisting himself up almost effortlessly before picking them up again, walking the few steps it takes for him to stand in front of you. His lips are tugged on a shit-eating grin. “Got another feisty one in here, huh?” He crosses his arms under his chest, and you can’t help but note the way his muscles flex at the gesture, his tattoos dancing slightly on his skin. “What makes you so smug about stealing my spot? Reckon Ronnie only said he needed more chicks hanging around.”

“If that’s the case then there’s no need for you to be intimidated by a band of chicks, then.” You keep your eyes trained on his, but you can notice Abbey’s getting wider from over his shoulder. 

His lips twitch up, and you can tell he’s holding back a genuine smile as not to crack your act. “Am I intimidated now, bunny?”

“It’s what it looks like.” You shrug, now holding back your own smile.

“Maybe you need to take a better look at things then, angel.”  He starts walking backwards in the direction of the backstage. “Wouldn’t want any more misunderstandings, would we?”

“Don’t think we would.” 

And with that, he turns around, walking the rest of the way out and disappearing as he rounds the corner to where you know it’s the door leading to the back alleyway. You just stand there quietly for a moment, following his steps as you try to recollect what just happened. For the two of you, it was clear that the tension was the product of an unspoken want circling around, but you question for a second if that’s the impression that your friends had. And as you look at their expressions, raised brows and mouths agape, it’s hard to tell.

“Holy shit, babe.” Abbey is the first to speak out. “Didn’t know you had that in you.”

You hold back a relieved exhale, shrugging slightly as you remove the strap of the bass from your shoulder. “He was just getting on my nerves.” You face away from her, placing the instrument on the stand.

The anticipation of meeting Harry grows impatiently on your stomach as you try to find a gap where no one’s attention is on you to sneak out of the dressing room. It seems as if every time you think you can do it, someone pulls you in, either to try to push you another pill of something you’re not sure what it is or to ask you to help with their makeup. But as the room gets filled and people get higher, their focus become more diffuse, and finally, after finishing assisting Jaz with her eyeliner (her hands were too shaky to get it right) you manage to slip out the room into the corridor.

There’s a sense of recognition that takes over your body when you feel the wind messing with your hair as you step out the building to be met with Harry’s figure leaning back on the wall, not too far from the spot you found him the last time you’d been in this same position. His eyes shoot in your direction as soon as you step through the door as if he’d been waiting for this just as eagerly as you were. He quickly throws the butt of the cigarette on the floor, stepping on it before standing tall as you slowly approach him.

“Hi.” You say simply, fingers fidgeting with the hem of your shorts -- not knowing with to do with your hands.

“Hi.” His grin grows. “Came back here to intimidate me?” He teases, biting on his bottom lip.

“Actually,” you scrunch your lips, deciding to play his game as you reach on your back pocket, retrieving the small piece of paper and holding it up. “Got this very desperate note from a secret admirer but I don’t see any hotties here.” You click your tongue, looking around as you let out a loud sigh. “Guess it might be just a misunderstanding.”

He laughs, hands reaching for your waist to draw you closer. “That’s too bad, guess you’re stuck with me”

“Yeah?” You wrap your arms around his shoulders, stepping closer so that your chests meet and his forehead falls against yours.

He nods in response, your noses brushing gently before he leans to meet your mouth with his own.

                                 ❁         ❁        ❁

There’s a thrilling feeling that settles deep within you when it comes to holding a secret.

It’s that spark of excitement that brings a kaleidoscope of butterflies to come alive on your stomach. The kind of feeling that makes every cell of your body feel not just simply alive but as if it’s burning with joy. Which is why you guess falling into a routine of sneaking around with Harry on secret little rendezvous was so easy, to begin with. 

Of course, your friends’ opinions are important to you, but you know that you’re an adult very much capable of making your own decisions. That means sleeping with anyone you’d like despite their ill opinions about the person, without having to sneak around as if you’re teenagers hiding from your parents. You know that, and you try to remind yourself of that every time you catch yourself lying to them about your whereabouts at every coming day. 

In the beginning, you weren’t even sure that there was anything to it except for a couple of innocent kisses, maybe some not-so-innocent touches here and there, but nothing really worth even telling anyone. You’d only really see Harry on the weekends. When he would steal moments with you before your gigs when you “had to take a breather”. Or when mysteriously disappeared from your friends’ sides during after parties after they already had their minds buzzed and noses backed up. Or even when your night walks would tart becoming gradually longer due to your curiosity getting the best of you once you found yourself in front of the familiar Pub on Harry’s nights.

The weekends’ escapades took a different turn when they graduated to weekdays. Things took a quick turn then. It started with him offering you a ride to the houses for your tutoring or to the library (stealing kisses every now and then, of course). And before you knew, you were making up classes or books to rent for your oblivious roommates, only to spend hours on Harry’s car. Coming back with puffy lips and messy hair.

Part of you felt bad for going behind their backs, every now and then feeling an urge to pull Lena aside and gush about him for as long as your heart desired.

But it’s the thrill of it, of having something that’s just yours to have, that no one else knows except the two of you. The adrenaline that comes with the possibility of getting caught at any moment, but being able to get away with it. It’s almost addicting to you, so you prefer to have these moments just to yourself.

As the days went by, and those days turned into weeks, and those weeks turned into months, it just made it harder for you to tell them you’d been hiding a whole relationship for this amount of time. Well, not exactly a relationship, but as close as you ever got to one anyway.

And it’s not like you’d never had anyone before. Being in the music scene, you’ve had your quite a few amounts of flings — even though not as many as it’s expected. But no one has ever left you as enamored as him, especially not as quickly as he has. He’s intriguing, carrying around that mysterious aura around him that leaves everyone wondering the secrets he holds in his heart. 

Although when it’s just the two of you it’s like this cocky persona of him completely dissolves. It’s a complete contrast from the image he carries around the restless mouths of prying people. He’s not that enigmatic heartbreaker who hops around strangers beds as if to live that classic Rock ‘n Roll lifestyle you see on TV. Rather, he’s shown himself to be the most caring man you’ve ever been with.

And that’s how you found yourself in this position, your body awkwardly positioned on your side in the rear seat of his car. A hand tangled on his hair while the other pulls at his Bowie shirt, you know your lips are probably starting to get swollen and his are taking a raspberry tone from the way they’d been sucking at one another. So with that in mind, you part from his mouth, trailing kisses along his cheek, and a final one at his nose before sitting back on the seat.

Just as you predicted his rose-colored lips are plump as he grins back at you, his locks are wild on top of his head. His hair has grown around his jawline now, curls poking out in all directions and you can’t help but reach your hand to pull his fringe back from his forehead. His smile growing fondly and eyes fluttering shut as you run your hand through his strands. 

When you pull away you catch a glimpse of your wrist clock, cringing slightly at yourself as you realize you should start thinking of heading home.

“I have to go soon.” You let your hand fall to your lap with a sigh.

“Already?” He pouts. “Barely had any time together.”

“We’ve been here for two hours, silly.” You giggle at his dramatics, leaning to press your lips on his chin.

He throws an arm over your shoulder, keeping you close. “Exactly, barely any time.”

He turns his head to connect your mouths once more before pulling you against him so your head rests on his shoulder. You look beyond the glass of the windshield to the nearly empty street -- saving from a few people walking back from what you assume is a day of work

He’s parked on the usual spot two blocks away from your house, and from this angle, you can see the front gate that leads to the entrance. The front seat of the coupe still folded forward as there was no reason to set it back to place considering the circumstance in which you were on the backseat. You had called home from the payphone in front of the library, letting Lena know you’d be home late to catch up with some studies -- another lie to your pile.

There’s a comfortable silence that falls between the two of you -- apart from the low voice of the radio Dj interrupting A-ha’s Take On Me in the background. If you move your head just right you can hear his speeding heartbeat, and if wasn’t for the faltering on his breathing you’d assume he was just as relaxed as you are. You move away from him, his arm falling around your waist, looking at his profile as he pokes at his jeans, a crease between his eyebrows.

You rest your cheek against the leather seat, grasping his chin with your fingers and gently moving his head so his gaze meets yours. “What’s on your mind, handsome?”

He breathes out a laugh, shrugging lightly as he brings his hand to scratch at the tip of his nose. “Nothing much.”

“But there’s something.” You insist, being able to tell he’s pondering over something.

“It’s just-- I just thought--” he pauses with a sigh. You play with the rings on his fingers, waiting patiently for him to express his thoughts, you can tell he’s a bit nervous which is an adorable change from his regular charming demeanor. “I wanted to maybe-- like, we could have a date.”

. 

You straighten your posture, lips parting as you take in his words. “A date?”

“Yeah… A proper one, you know?” He shrugs, eyes darting back on yours. “If you want to, that is! Don’t wanna pressure you or anything.”

“I do, H.” You nod, chewing on your lip as you try to recollect your thoughts. It’s not as if you don’t want to go on a date with him, that couldn’t be further from the truth. But turning it into a formality just changes completely the scheme of things and, as much as you felt like this is an inevitable step to take at some point, you still feel protective to an extent of this secret you have between the two of you. So you can help but let your voice come a little apologetic, “it’s just--”

“I know.” His shoulders drop and you can’t help but feel a tug at your heart.

“Hey.” You caress his cheek. “I’ll think about it, okay?”

“Okay.” His lips perk up in a small smile, and you lean forward to give him a peck.

He’s still looking at you with puppy-like eyes and it does nothing to help the heaviness in your heart from turning him down. You lean again this time to spread kisses around his cheek as an attempt to pull a giggle out of him, but you only earn a light chuckle so you seat back tilting your head to look at him with a pluck of your lips. “C’mon where’s my smug rockstar gone?”

“He’s right here.” The shadow of his dimples appears on his cheeks. His voice comes out low and gentle, as if he’s still pondering over what you said earlier, “just toned him down a bit.”

You sigh, trying to rack your brain to another subject that can distract him from it. You catch sight of the slightly smudged end of his eyeliner, and your face lights up as you remember a request you’ve always wanted to bring it up. “Do you want to know something?” Biting back a cheeky grin, you cross your arms under your chin as he looks at you with raised eyebrows. “Should let me do your makeup, so you can be a proper rockstar.”

He lets out a laugh. “Do I need that, now?”

“Mhm, said it yourself, it’s part of the look.”

“Did I say that?” You nod, teeth still biting on your lip. He lets out a breath, contemplating the idea for a second before looking back at you. “Okay then.”

“Is that a yes?”

“Course, could never say no to you even if I tried.” He lets his hand fall on your thigh, rubbing it gently. “On one condition, though.” You arch your brows in question. “Come to my gig tomorrow.”

You face scrunches in confusion. “I always go to your gigs.”

“Yeah but I mean go earlier, like so we can hang out before and stuff.” His finger starts to draw circles on your knee. “So you can do my makeup, too, can go on stage looking all pretty.”

“As if you could ever look anything less than pretty.” You say before sitting back, thinking of his proposal. “You’re asking me to be there early…”

“What? D’you have plans already? Got a boyfriend I don’t know about?” And there it is, the teasing Harry you know.

You shake your head, poking his side playfully. “Oh yeah, maybe I should’ve mentioned him sooner.”

“Shut up.” He rolls his eyes before looking at you, his voice coming down to a pleading tone. “Come, please.”

Before the yes can roll off your tongue you remember that you wouldn’t be alone with him. “What about your band?” 

He furrows his brows. “What about them?”

“Well, do they know?”

“They couldn’t care less about us, baby.” He sighs, head falling back on the seat as he moves his hand so it rests on your inner thigh, rubbing a spot in there. “Have no meaning hiding you.”

You can’t hold back the smile that grows on your lips, leaning to press a kiss to his mouth before letting professing in just above a whisper, “You always know what to say, don’t you?”

                                 ❁         ❁        ❁ 

“‘S poking my eye.”

“Shh, quiet.”

“You’re rubbing it too harsh.” Harry grabs your wrist, eyes fluttering open to stare up at you.

“I’m being gentle, you’re just not used to the feeling of the brush.” You argue, keeping a finger under his chin so his head is tilted upwards as you shuffle on his lap. “Now close your eyes, I’m almost done.”

He lets out a huff, trying to feign annoyance, but the slight twitch of his lips and the subtle appearance of his dimples break his facade. You know as much as he won’t admit to it, he’s quite enjoying having you propped on his lap, fingers stroking gently his eyelids while you hum along to The Cure’s record that’s mixing with the murmurs of the other people in the room.

To your surprise, you’ve come to realize that the dressing room is significantly less chaotic when it comes to Harry’s band. The place is not nearly as packed as it can get during your nights, in fact, apart from the band itself, there’s only a handful of people hanging around. And as much as you notice their bloated pupils and stumbled walks, they mostly keep it to themselves, sharing around a bottle of vodka to wash down their pills.

Like Harry had assured you, his bandmates couldn’t be less bothered by your presence amongst them. And as much as you recognize all from the numerous gig you’ve been in before, and that according to them your name has been frequently mentioned by Harry himself (which did make his cheeks turn into an adorable shade of red), it’s nice to be formally introduced to them. In fact, they were so quick to treat you as one of their own that you could feel a slightly guilty feeling expanding on your chest from the number of times you’d heard your friends bad mouthing them in attempts to joke around. 

You swallowed the feeling back, though, accepting a plastic cup they poured with champagne (which you learned is a tradition before gigs) and making a conversation.

“Are you done yet?” You feel the vibration of his voice on that back of your fingers that touch against his throat.

“Yes,” you say with a final stroke of your brush on his eyes, sitting back to admire your work with your teeth carved on your bottom lip. “You can open your eyes, baby.”

He blinks his eyes open and you can’t help the smile that breaks through your lips as you examine the contrast of the burning red eyeshadow with his jade irises as he looks back at you. “How do I look?” 

You grab his cheeks, leaning down to press a quick peck on his lips. “Like a proper rockstar.”

“Yeah?” He grins once you let your hands caress on the smooth skin of his chest poking through his unbuttoned blue blouse. “Think I can finally get some groupies now?”

Scoffing, you swing your hand to shove him back playfully with a roll of your eyes. You try to move away but he grabs hold of your wrists, pulling you in again. “You’re insufferable.”

“Just how you like it.” His hands fall to your waist, bringing it closer as you let your arms wrap around his shoulders. 

His lips meet your on a slow kiss, allowing you to taste the strawberry flavor of the lipstick you’d applied earlier, the thought of messing it completely lost in your mind as you tilt your head to deepen it even more. His fingers now grip on your hips over your denim skirt that has ridden up considerably since you first propped yourself on his lap. For a moment you just stay like this, tangled on each other’s arms, every so often you scratch on his neck, pulling his hair just a bit so you can swallow the most delicious mewls.

He parts from you as slowly as the kiss started, pecking on your lips a couple of times before letting his head fall back, hands moving to rub at your thighs over your pink tights. His eyes are hooded as he looks up at you with a smirk, voice coming low as if he’s sharing a secret just between the two of you, “can we go to the back?”

“Sure.” You unstranddle him, adjusting your skirt as you stand up and offering your hands to help him to his feet. He takes them, almost bringing you back down on the couch as he pulls a little bit too hard. 

Once he’s up he takes a look at himself on the mirror in the wall opposite to the couch, a pleased smile on his face letting you know he likes the result of your work. He reaches for your hand then, guiding you into the hallway and out the back door you’ve become so familiar with.

Walking into the alleyway, he walks to his usual spot, leaning back on the wall and pulling you with him. His hands easily find their place on your waist once again, fingers tapping against the fabric of your skirt anxiously. Looking down at you, there’s anticipation on his eyes, as if he’s trying to tell you something but is waiting for you to bring it up.

“So,” he begins, eyes darting around as he parts his legs a bit, enough to fit you between them as he pulls you closer.

“So…” You say, drifting off as a way to encourage him to keep going.

“I’ve thought about the date thing.”

You wrap your arms around his neck, playing with the ends of his har. “Wasn’t I the one that was supposed to be doing that?”

 He shrugs slightly, looking down to where his fingers fiddle with a loose strand of your vest. There’s something very endearing about seeing him so nervous, a complete opposite to how he carries himself in public, as this cocky and confident guy. You’re grateful that he allows you to see this side of him, though, bringing your hand to caress his jawline as you wait him to speak his thoughts. “Yeah, but I had like, an idea, or whatever.”

“Do tell.”

“I thought we could do--” he shakes his head a bit. “We could go to a place that’s still more reserved, and stuff.” 

“Like?”

“I dunno, I--” he chews on his lip, a habit he’s starting to get from you. “Thought we could go to my flat and like hang out, we could go to that diner that has a drive tru and get something to eat and go back to my place.” 

“Are you trying to take me home, Styles?” You tease, not being able to hold back a smile.

“It’s not like that, I just--” he huffs, cheeks getting a bit flushed as he tries to explain himself. “Just if you’re comfortable with it, of course, we can still go around on my car if you prefer, I don’t mind.”

“Harry?” You hold his cheek, moving it so his eyes can meet yours. Rubbing your thumb against his smooth skin, you try to soothe him, shooting him a fond smile.  “I think that’s a really nice idea.”

“Yeah?” You don’t miss the way his eyes light up. “Is that a yes, then?”

“Of course.”

“Cool, I can, like, call you before I leave home so you can go to our spot and I can pick you up, yeah?” It’s the fastest he’s speaking since the moment you walked out of the building, voice a pitch higher. “How about Friday?

“Great.” You giggle, tangling your fingers on his hair to pull him down so his forehead rests against yours. Lips brushing, you blink up at him, jade eyes flickering around your face, “I can’t wait.”

He smiles. “Me too.”

                                 ❁         ❁        ❁

An annoyed puff leaves your lips as you notice another typo in one of the words inked in the paper poking out of the typewriter. You grab it maybe a bit too forcefully, this being the fourth time in a matter of minutes you had to do this. Taking it out of the platen, you reach for the whiteout conveniently prompted next to you, carefully correcting the error before putting the paper back on the machine.

With the end of the term peeking around the corner, you’ve been finding yourself in this position more often than not. Either rushing with your essays or grading assignments from your students. No matter what the arrangement is, however, there’s always a guarantee to have a half-empty mug of coffee and a pile of textbooks spattered on your desk. 

This time around is no different, as you lean back on your chair, closing your eyes and rubbing your hands over your face, you try to focus on Cyndi Lauper singing in the background as a way to relieve your stress. You can feel the inkling of a headache deep inside your forehead, indicating maybe it’s time to give yourself a break, So, you try your best to relax the tension out of your muscles, breathing in the soft chamomile scent of the burning candle on your nightstand -- it’s one Lena gave to you to help with the stress a few days ago. What disturbs you from your moment of meditation with Time After Time, making you snap out of your breathing exercise, is the ringing tone of the telephone echoing through the house. The sound comes into your room a bit muffled thanks to your closed door, but it’s still enough to irritate you.

You hear closely to the sounds outside your door, waiting for Lena, who you know is propped on the couch downstairs watching TV, to pick up the call and cease the annoying tune interrupting your moment. And as you predict, in just a few minutes the ringing noise stops as quickly as it started, making you relax back on your chair. Closing your eyes again, you let yourself go back to the moment before the interruption, untensing your shoulders. You can hear the pound of heavy footsteps coming up the wooden staircase, but don’t process them getting closer until your door swings open.

Lena is standing in your doorway with an expression that’s hard to read at first, her brows set on a slight frown her hairline and mouth agape. Before you can tell her off for her sudden entrance she’s already speaking, “can you tell me why the fuck Harry Styles is calling our house looking for you?”

You can feel your heartbeat falter at her words, eyes widening as you glance at your bunny-shaped clock and realizing you had gotten so lost in your studies you forgot about the date. “Shit,” you get up so fast from your chair it falls back on the rug. You turn to Lena, who’s watching the scene with the most amused smirk on her face, “is he still one the line?”

As soon as she nods you’re stumbling down the stairs, almost falling down on the last steps but catching yourself up on the railing. You reach for the wired phone lying upwards on the hallway stand, picking it up and walking into the closest door - which happens to be the coat closet - closing it behind you.

“Hello?” You sound out of breath, heartbeat roaring in your ear.

“Did I fuck it up?” His voice is hesitant, nearly remorseful, it makes your heart drop.

“I-- no, you didn’t.” You reassure, leaning back on the wall of the tiny space, instantly regretting your decision of not choosing the restroom in your panic state.  “I just got caught up with an essay and didn’t see the time passing.”

“Do you want to reschedule?” He drags out the words as if he doesn’t want to say them. “We can do this another day, I don’t mind.”

“No!” You protest quickly, reaching back to roughly adjust a hanger that’s poking on your neck, causing a raincoat to fall on your feet. “Of course not, I really need a break, anyway. I want to see you.”

“Want to see you, too.” You can hear the smile on his voice. “What about your friend?”

You sigh, rubbing your temple slightly. “I’ll talk to her, don’t worry about it.”

“Okay.” He says. “I’ll be at yours in around fifteen, is that good?”

“That’s perfect, yes.”

“I’ll see you in a bit then…” He drifts off, as if he wants to say something else, but stops himself.

“See you.”

The familiar sound of the deadline takes place and you sigh, letting your head fall back on the wall with a thump and staying like that for a moment. When you step out of the closet, the first thing you see is Lena leaning against the railing of the stairs, shaking her head at you in disbelief. “You bitch.”

Your shoulders drop, not wanting to have this conversation right now, as you put the phone back on the base. “Can we not do this--”

“You’ve been fucking him all this time and you didn’t tell me?” She crosses her arms under her breasts. “Abbey is gonna throw a fit when she knows this.”

“You’re not gonna tell her.”

“I’m not.” She agrees with you. “But she already knows you’re sneaking out with someone.”

“She does?” Your voice gets higher, eyes widening slightly.

“She might be high as a kite most of the time, yes, but she’s not stupid.” She chuckles. “And you’re not the best at hiding either, or you thought we wouldn’t notice you’re barely at home anymore?”

You frown your mouth, feeling like a deer caught in the headlights. “Does she suspect that it’s him?”

“Not really no, thought it was one of your students.”

You can’t help the horrified look that takes over your face. “I tutor children!”

“Ooh,” she breathes out a laugh. “Well, to be fair, he’s probably the last person she would suspect.”

“She’s gonna kill me.”

“Probably.” She shrugs. “But she’ll just have to get over it.”

“I guess.”

Lena looks at you, dropping her arms as she walks to you. Holding into your shoulders, her expression softens. “Don’t worry about this right now, okay? Go get ready for your date.”

“You’re right.”  You sigh, nodding. It takes you a second, but as you process her words, you frown, squinting your eyes at her. “How do you know we have a date right now?”

Her hands drop, mouth scrunching as she waves her hands around. “I just guessed.”

“Were you listening on the line?’

“Of course not!” She steps away.

“Adeline!”

She backs away, reaching the bottom of the stairs with the guiltiest look you’ve ever seen splattered on her face. “It was just a bit of it! I was curious!”

You shake your head in disbelief. “I’m gonna cut the cord of that phone in your room.”

“No, you’re not.” 

Raising your eyebrows in challenge, you take a careful step in her direction, causing her to go up another step. There’s a beat of silence where you two just stare at each other, waiting for the other to make the first move. When you finally give in, racing towards the staircase, she stumbles up the rest of the steps, the sound of your giggles mixing together taking over the space.

                                 ❁         ❁        ❁

There’s an instant sense of comfort when you see Harry’s lime green Ford parked on your usual spot, one that gives an extra pep to your walk, pushing all the stress you’ve been dwelling with to the back of your mind. And as you relax into the leather seat, windows down and radio up, you let yourself enjoy the anticipation of spending the rest of your day with him that settles deep in your stomach. 

You’d always wondered what Harry’s apartment would look like, imagining his LP’s splattered across the place, along with loose papers filled with guitar riffs and song lyrics. Maybe a couple of plants here and there, from what he told you he had tried to take care of one or two before, but always ended up forgetting to water them on schedule. And there’s also a notion inside of you that two young men living together in an apartment are bound to live in somewhat of a nest, so you brace yourself for the piles of beer cans and video game wires tangling on the floor.

When he opens the front door for you, letting you walk in before him, it does surprise you to find a tidier place than you’d expected his living room to be, but you realize you’d not been much far off with your assumption. It’s clear this is a house of musicians from the second you step in, the first sight being two guitars leaning on the wall next to the mud green couch, surrounded by - you guessed it - loose papers, which you assume are filled with scribbled ideas. A wall piano also stands out across the room, a single ashtray standing on top of it next to two candles, where you assume comes the faint scent of vanilla comes from.

“Sorry about the mess,” Harry speaks out from behind you, shrugging out of his usual denim jacket and throwing it over the couch arm, looking back at you with his hands on his hips.

“It’s alright.” Your teeth sink on your bottom lip as you take in the sight of him. Without his jacket, he’s left with just a wine-colored half-buttoned blouse, sleeves rolled up to his elbows so some of his tattoos are exposed. Part of the hem is tucked inside his low waist jeans that hug his thighs so perfectly it makes you want to grip your nails on it. Shaking your head, lightly, you let your eyes wander around the room once more, so he doesn’t notice you gawking at him. “Was expecting worse, to be honest.”

“Do you think that little of me?” He feigns offense.

You giggle, taking a lazy step towards him, shrugging. “I just don’t expect two young men to know the basic of cleaning, that’s all.”

“That’s fair,” he chuckles, taking a moment to just look at you. When a silence settles between the two of you, you raise your brows at him, waiting for him to make the first move. He clears his throat, running his hand through his hair. “Do you want anything to drink?”

“Sure!” You nod. “Do you have, like, beer or…”

“Yes, yes I--” he stops, face lighting up in realization. “No wait, I have something better.” He strides towards a door to where you assume the kitchen is, calling over his shoulder, “make yourself comfortable, I’ll be right back!”

You laugh to yourself, shaking your head as you pull your purse off your shoulder, letting it rest beside Harry’s jacket on the couch. Glancing over your shoulder, there are no signs of him coming back, so you take the opportunity to snoop around the area. 

There’s a small center table in front of the couch, probably the messiest part of the room so far, a few movie magazines splattered around with another ashtray lying on top of it, a few butts of cigarettes long forgotten along with their ashes. Next to it, is a VHS cover of </i> Ghostbusters, a rental receipt paper scrambled on top of it. What calls your attention is a couple of cassette tapes, some with titles you recognize from being Harry’s songs scribbled on top of them but others don’t have a label, which leads you to assume they must be blank. 

You walk around the table, gazing to the tv stand, where a poster of Freud is stuck on the wall behind it -- and breathing out a laugh as you notice someone had drawn glasses and colored his beard with a red sharpie. A bookshelf stands next to it, completely filled with records (apart from a single succulent that has a piece of paper with the name “Ziggy” glued to it). Your curiosity gets the best of you, picking up some LPs on random and what does surprise you, is the lack of a common theme between them. Finding a bit of everything, from some very recognizable names you’ve seen Harry rock to, like Billy Joel and The Clash, to some you’d never even heard him speak of like Culture Club and even a brand new Madonna record.

You have just picked up the cover of Ladies of the Canyon when his voice startles you from behind. “Mitchell, huh?”

Turning back with the record still in hands, you look down at it. “I love her.” You glance up, taking notice of the glasses in his hand, filled with a liquid of a yellow so bright it reminds you of a highlighter. “What’s this?”

“This,” he hands you a glass. “Is a drink we made.”

You raise your eyebrows at him. “You made this?”

 “I’m a man of many talents, bunny.”

“It looks like poison.” You bring the glass up to your nostrils, taking in the strong scent of alcohol. “Am I going to be poisoned? Is this a big plan to get rid of your rival’s bassist?”

“Stop being silly.” He rolls his eyes. “It’s mainly pineapple and vodka, takes weeks to be done, proper fancy stuff, you know?”

“Oh yeah super fancy.” You tease, chewing on your bottom lip to hold back a smile.“Pineapple and vodka.”

“Shut up and drink it.” He says, watching you carefully as you slowly bring the brim of the glass to your lips, taking a small sip of it. An instant sweet taste of pineapple invading your tastebuds, but the vodka is so present it makes you scrunch your nose. Harry gives you a small smile, eyes trained on you as he waits for your verdict, “so…”

“It’s strong.” Your face is still a bit rumpled from the alcohol, but you relax it eventually taking another sip of it, this time quite more prepared for it. “But it’s good, tastes like pineapple and vodka, who would say?”

“Shut up.” He chuckles, taking a step back and propping himself down on the couch.

With the record still in hands, you turn to put it back where you found it, admiring the full bookshelf once more. “Got a nice collection here, Styles, I gotta admit.”

He sips on his drink. “Found something you fancy in there?”

“A couple.”

“Put on something you like.” He motions to the record player standing next to the shelf. You look through the vast collection again, picking some at random and putting it back once you realize it’s not what you’re looking for. After going through a few, you finally stumble upon Elton John’ Madman Across The Water, holding it up to show it to Harry. “Oh, so we’re in one of those moods?”

You pull the vinyl from the sleeve, carefully placing it on the player and adjusting the needle over it. As the beginning note of Tiny Dancer float through the room, you look back at him. “What mood?”

 “Like, a happy-sad kind of mood.”

You nod, setting yourself on the couch next to him. “That’s a nice way to put it.”

As the first few songs swim in the air around there’s a light chatter that settles between the two of you. Nothing out of your ordinary conversations, mainly consisting of you gushing over John Taylor as Harry rolls his eyes and sips on his drink to mask the drop of jealousy that grows on his chest -- “He’s not that good looking, you lot should have better standards” he said with a huff, making you giggle at his antics and pinch his cheeks. But it doesn’t take long, barely going halfway through the record, until the two of you begin to feel more lightheaded, eyes glossy and tongues getting looser. You should’ve expected that from the very first sip of the drink in your hand, knowing it wouldn’t take much more than a glass of it to get you right boozed up. And it doesn’t help that which each sip of it the sweetness of the pineapple takes over the strong taste of the alcohol, and in a matter of a few songs, you already feel your mind soaring away.

Harry is not much different, you realize, becoming quite a bit of a giggly drunk as he looks at you through half-lidded eyes and slurred words coming out of his mouth (which only makes him laugh more at himself). From what he told you, it hasn’t been the first time he and Mitch attempted on making the drink themselves. They tried it at a cramped bar right outside a Tears For Fears concert and it had gotten them so knackered so quickly they went back the next day to ask the barman (who also happened to be the owner) what was it in. Turns out it was just watermelon and vodka, but the man also explained that the technique he used that took about two weeks for the drink to be ready. From the man’s explanation, it seemed simple enough so they decided to try it for themselves, except they replaced the watermelon with pineapple.

“Just to add a bit of fun to it.” He shimmies his body.

“Is it like the original, though?” 

“‘S close, but not quite his.” He hiccups. “I’m convinced he left out some of the details, the bastard, didn’t want to go around giving out the secret formula of it.”

You giggle, biting into the brim of your glass. “I’m curious to try it with watermelon, now that you’ve mentioned.”

“You have to, bunny!” His head falls back on the couch, dimples so deep you want to bite into them, his hand strokes lazily on your thigh, every now and then moving up to rub at the hem of your playsuit. “I’ll take you there sometime, we can get baked and crash into a concert at the music house that’s right in front of it.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

When the blue of the sky outside begins to fade into a golden glow, ribbons of pink and orange cutting through it, you’re already completely far gone. The record player is now only letting out a faint buzz from the lack of sound now that the LP is over. Your head is filled with clouds and you don’t register when Harry reaches back for the guitar, only really registering it once he’s stringing out a familiar melody. He stumbles with the lyrics but as soon as you recognize the beginning line of </i> Big Yellow Taxi you’re joining him, your voices tangling in a high pitch as you more of scream the lines than really bother to sing it. Harry gets completely lost in it, and you let him take over every so often just to watch him, mimicking Joni Mitchell's voice and even enacting her laugh, which makes you laugh until your belly hurts and your cheeks get flushed.

It’s one of those moments you want to get locked in, to live in it forever. Watching him stumbling the lyrics of different songs, the words tumbling out of his mouth between giggles, fingers stroking the cord of the guitar maybe a bit too harshly as you join him without a care in the world to who may be bothered by it. You feel so free with him, it’s a feeling that takes over your whole body, a warmth of knowing you don’t have to filter yourself or fit any type of expectation. And as he ends another cover with violent strokes on the guitar you laugh along with him for a moment before letting the room quiet down. Crossing your arms over the back of the couch and resting your cheek against it, you just look at him.

His bloodshot green meets yours, his chest rising as he catches his breath from the frantic songs, teeth sinking on his bottom lip as he smiles at you. “Gonna slow down a bit fo’ you.”

You raise your brows at him, smiling in anticipation as he begins to smooth his fingers through the cords much more gently than he had been previously. His head moves along to the beat as he gazes down at the instrument, a slight crease forming between his eyebrows in concentration. It’s a complete contrast from the playful demeanor that had taken over the room just minutes ago.

“Love of my life, you’ve hurt me.” He begins, and your ears instantly perk up as you identify the same song you’d heard him play months ago at the pub, the one that made you enter it to watch him for the first time. “You’ve broken my heart and now you leave me.”

It’s much different now, however, not just from the fact that he’s singing it on his own without the band backing him up. But it’s the meaning behind it, the rawness of his voice, low and slightly raspy, the words still come out a bit mumbled but you couldn’t care less about it, only focusing on the emotion he puts to them. 

“Love of my life, can’t you see?” His eyes are still set on the guitar and you search for them almost desperately, shifting closer to him and cupping his cheek, guiding him to meet your gaze. “Bring it back, bring it back, don’t take it away from me.”

The swell in your heart is overwhelming to an extent, his glossy eyes looking into your with such sincerity it makes you want to jump on him, but you hold back as he keeps going, feeling nearly hypnotized by his voice.

“Because you don’t know, what it means to me.” He leans into your touch, turning to press a quick kiss on your palm as he keeps stroking the chords in a quiet melody. “Love of my life, don’t leave me.”

You can’t help but shake your head slightly as he sings the lyric almost like a plea. “You’ve stolen my love, and now desert me.” He looks back down at the guitar, letting your hand fall to his shoulder. “Love of my life, can’t you see?”

“Bring it back, bring it back, don’t take it away from me.” Peeking under his lashes, he grins up at you, and you can only imagine how you must look to him. Mouth slightly agape, barely blinking as you’re scared if you do this will all turn out to be nothing but a dream. His voice comes out next a bit lower, stretching out the words, “Because you don’t knoow.”

He strokes the chords a bit mindlessly now, playing with the sound of the melody, and he does it so effortlessly you almost hold your breath as not to miss it. “What it means to me.”

When he stops, you don’t really think before latching yourself on him, throwing one leg on each side of his thighs, and cupping his face before meeting his mouth with yours. He immediately wraps an arm around your back, his other hand taking the guitar off his lap and blindly placing it against the wall next to the couch. Once the instrument is no longer a barrier, he places his hands on your hips, pulling you closer. You can taste the memory of a pineapple still lingering on his tongue as you lick into his mouth. The kiss is hungry, maybe a bit sloppy thanks to the substance still very much present in your bloodstreams, but you don’t mind, only moving a hand to tangle on his hair, scratching at his scalp before pulling at his roots. 

A whimper escapes from his mouth, getting lost inside your throat, his grip on your thighs tightens, nails digging in it and you know will leave crescent shapes on your skin. It only makes you do it again, this time his head tilting backward with a small groan, disconnecting your lips, but you’re soon to connect it again, splattering kisses along his jawline until it meets his neck. When you suck on his pulse point, running your tongue over it, his skin vibrates on your lips as he lets out a whine. His hands are now running all over your thighs before resting on top of your ass, bringing your hips to grind against his.

Even with your hazed mind, it’s still hard to miss the very prominent bulge under his jeans. It makes you pull back, looking down to see it straining against his zipper. There’s a flip of a switch inside of you when you realize how much he’s yearning for it, it’s the desire you’ve been pushing back for months now, crashing into you like a wave and you can barely contain a small mewl at the sight.

“Bunny.” He breathes out. When you look back to him, you notice his eyes have darkened considerably. “We don’t have to--”

“Please.” You let your forehead fall against his, rolling your hips again, stealing another whimper from him. “If you want to, I want to.”

“I do -- fuck, I do.” He nods as you keep grinding on him, his hand disappearing on your back pocket, trying to get as closer to you as possible.

When you meet his lips again, the kiss is somehow eager than before. The longing is evident as you grab onto each other. Your hands travel down his chest, nails digging softly on his exposed skin, and once you feel the fabric of his shirt, you’re quickly to undo the rest of the buttons, not disconnecting from him as you do so. Smoothing your hands back up to his shoulders, you help him shrug off the material, letting it fall to the couch without paying mind to it.

“Wait,” he sneaks between kisses, hands coming up to your waist you push you off gently.

You watch with your brows narrowed as he gets up from the couch, walking to his shelf and standing in front of it, looking for something. Leaning to your side, you let yourself admire the muscles of his back as his fingers run through the edges of the records. It’s impressive how even though his collection takes over the whole furniture, he still seems to know exactly where to look for it, focusing on a small section right at the top. He quickly finds what he’s looking for, pulling it with a ‘Aha!’ before turning back to you. 

He holds up a very familiar black cover, the imprint of Queen’s Greatest Hits instantly calling your attention. Doing the same as you’d done earlier, he takes out the disk, placing it on the player before adjusting the needle over it. You watch it with a smile teasing on your lips, finding oddly endearing how he made you pull away from him with the sole purpose of putting on a soundtrack -- making notice to put on something you’d like, as well. He cranks up the volume as the first words of Bohemian Rhapsody start to swallow your thoughts, turning back to you and offering his hand with a cheeky grin painted on his face.

Taking his hold, you let him pull you up from the couch and, before you can really register it, he’s guiding you through the hallway. You stumble on your footing as he rushes a bit to fast for you to really wrap your head around it, the walls of the corridor passing by almost in a blur as it takes your mind a beat too long to catch up with your eyes. Still, your giggles dance along with his all the way to his door at the end of it, making you feel like a couple of teens sneaking out for the first time.

He doesn’t give you a single minute to take notice of his room -- not that you would at this moment, your arousal pooling at your underwear only enhancing the haziness of your mind. In just a speck of a second, he’s already pushing the door closed, your body being pressed against it not long after. His arms find their place on each side of your head, his lips searching hungrily for yours as your fingers find their home between the strands of his hair once more. 

“Shit, need you so bad, baby.” he presses his hips against yours, mouth hot as he sucks in the skin of your jaw, all the way down your neck, finding a spot that makes you whine under his touch. “That’s it, darling, let me hear you again.”

“Harry,” you mewl as his teeth sink on your skin gently, his tongue swiping quickly over the spot before he trails back to your cheek. You melt under his touch when his hands find their way back on your body, one of them caressing the side of your breast softly, thumb poking out to rub the spot where you nipple pebbles under your layers of clothing. This brings out a desperate whimper from your throat, your head falling back on the door as you close your eyes, trying to savor every slight touch of his. “Please.”

“Look so fucking pretty in this piece, bunny.” The sound of his voice is right below your ear, his warm breath hitting your skin making the hairs on your neck rise. “Look gorgeous in anythin”” he turns his head to bite at your earlobe. “But I really need it gone right now.”

Your eyes snapback open when you feel him pull back from you, his hands finding the front buttons of your playsuit, fiddling them open so easily you barely register it. His lips are back on yours, this time slower, letting his desire be known at every brush of his tongue. Smoothing his hands on your shoulders, he helps you out of the sleeves of the top. As soon as your back is disconnected from the wooden door, you start moving forward before you can really think about it, pushing him back gently until the back of his knees hit the mattress and he’s sitting back on the bed.

There’s hardly a speck of green left on his darkened irises when he looks up at you, watching your every move as you shift the material down your body, letting it pool on your feet before you kick it to the side. Taking a slow step towards him, his hands holding onto your hips almost unconsciously, you reach back to find the hook of your bra, but he stops you before you can even quite grasp it. “Wait,” he pulls you closer, making you fall a bit awkwardly on his lap, your hands moving to grip on his shoulder for support. “Let me.”

You adjust your position on top of him, your knees resting next to his thighs, as he handily unhooks your bra, removing it quickly from your arms and tossing it to the side. A gasp escapes your mouth as he wastes no time before attaching his mouth to your breast, tongue circling on your nipple before sucking in. His hand tries to give the same attention to the other one, grasping onto it as his thumb caresses the pebbled nub.

The crescendo of the song comes muffled in the background and it’s as if it’s echoing inside your head while you mindlessly roll your hips against his. The motion makes the lining of his zipper rub deliciously against your clit under the thin fabric of your underwear, and it reminds you of his hardening length pressing on his jeans. It seems to remind him as well, as his mouth parts from your chest in a groan, his lips licking at the space between your breast, kissing all the way back to your neck, where he hides his face with a strangled moan when you grind down a bit harder.

“Can’t take the tease, baby.” He pants. “Need you right fucking now.”

You pull back from him, gazing down at the tent on his pants and bringing your hands to fiddle with his belt. It takes you a bit longer to manage to pull it out, as his eager lips attack your neck once again. At this point, you can only imagine the marks he’s made on your skin, knowing the reddened spots will soon come to a purple shade, but it’s the least of your worries as you pop the button of his jeans, opening up the zipper. 

“Stand up just for a sec, darling.” He taps on your hip and you do as he asks, stepping back to plant your feet on the floor.

He shifts out of his pants, bringing his briefs along with it and you watch the way his cock all but jumps out of its restrains, slapping back on his stomach. The tip is a reddened shade darker, a trace of precum already oozing out of it, dripping down his length and making you rub your thighs for some sort of relief as you feel your mouth watering. You want to reach for it, grasp it as you feel it throb on your palm. You want to trace the prominent veins adorning it with your tongue and discover all the sounds he makes when he’s all but begging for you to wrap you mouth around it already. But more than anything, and what speaks louder to you at the moment, is how you want to feel it deep in your belly, rubbing against your walls until your legs shake.

“My eyes are up here, love.” You look up at him, a smug grin on his face as he draws you in by your hips.

“Can’t help it.” You watch his fingers play with the waistband of your cherry colored underwear, meeting his eyes as you let yourself mess with him a bit. “Just have such a beautiful cock.”

“Christ.” He groans, yanking your panties down your leg, making your arousal drip down your thighs. His lips immediately trace on your pubic bone, hands travelling to grip on your ass as his teeth sink into your skin slowly. “Didn’t know you were this filthy, bunny.”

You enlace your fingers on his strands, pushing his fringe away from his forehead as you mount him again. “Only for you.”

“All for me? What did I do to deserve you?” He smiles, pecking your lips and pulling your closer so you can feel his cock poking at your stomach. “Why don’t you lie down for me?”

You shake your head, pushing his shoulders back gently until his back hits the mattress. “You lie down.”

“Shit, baby, gonna sit on my cock?” He shifts back just slightly, watching you sit back on his thigh as you grab his length, giving it an experimental pump that makes his breath audibly hitch. “Fuck-- such a good girl, aren’t ya?”

You chew on your bottom lip, flickering your palm over the tip and collecting a bit of the precum before rubbing it once more. He lets out a strangled moan, head tilting back on the mattress, his curls splattered around him like a halo. Which is an ironical contrast to what you’re doing to him. 

His voice comes out in a breathy, chest moving frantically as he peeks down at you when you give him another slow pump. “Please, darling, don’t torture me right now, need you so bad.”

If it were another occasion you wouldn’t listen to him, simply continuing your teasing as if he hadn’t said anything at all. But right now you can feel your wetness pooling where you sit on his thigh as you all but throb for him at the sight of his angry cock in your hand. It’s just as much torture to you as it is to him to keep this going any longer, so you just shift up, gabbing his base and rubbing it along your folds one, two, three times, before finally aligning it with your entrance.

His nails dig on your thighs in anticipation, his eyes watching with barely a blink as you slowly sink down. Your mouth hangs open but nothing except a choked gasp comes out of it. There’s a delicious burn that comes with him slowly spreading you open for him, and when you fully sit down your eyes are teary and can’t help but clench around him, earning a full moan in response.

“So fucking tight.” He pants, chest moving up as he takes a sharp inhale when you clench again. “So wet too, baby, drenching me.”

“Fuck, Harry.” You lean forward, hands lying on each side of his torso as you pull up the tiniest bit just to sink down again.

You want to start slow, gradually fastening your pace but you can’t seem to hold yourself back. As his hands grasp on your hips you start to bounce on him at a hard pace, your moans meshing together as well as the faint vocals blasting outside the closed door. Rolling your hips on his, he hits spot that makes you sit on your heels again as you throw your head back, crying out his name. 

It’s hard to keep focus as you mind is blurry from the pleasure that takes over every cell of your body as well as the alcohol still running freely on your bloodstream. All you can focus on right now is Harry. It’s his hands gripping on your skin, helping you fasten your pace. It’s the sound of his voice pitching on a needy whimper, telling you how good you feel around him. It’s the sight of his face creased in pleasure when you look down at him, the veins staining his neck and his locks sticking to his damp forehead, cheeks rosy and lips plump. He’s the only thing in your mind as you chant his name under your breath like a quiet prayer.

“Is my cock that good, bunny?” He meets your thrusts with his hips, making you sob out a moan. His lips tug on a smirk, “Look at you helping you helping yourself out on my cock -- fuck, look like a proper dream.”

There’s a familiar tightness in your stomach, one that makes your toes curl and your rhythm falters. “I’m almost there, shit.”

“Won’t last much longer too, baby, feel too good.” He groans holding your hips in place when you stumble on your pace again, deciding to thrust upwards, your pelvis meeting in loud smacks. “Gonna cum for me? Gonna let me see you looking all pretty when you cum all over my cock?”

“Harry, please.” You’re not even sure what you’re asking for, your eyes closing as you roll back your head. A trifling cramp is starting to set on the back of your thighs but you barely pay any mind to it as the bliss takes over your whole body. You’re so close to your high you can almost reach it, just needing a small push.

“C’mon, baby.” Harry urges you, hand reaching where you’re connected to rub at your clit harshly.

And that’s all you needed, opening your eyes as a couple tears fall down your face when you feel your orgasm taking over you body, the white ceiling feeling far away like an imagine you watch on the television. You’re not exactly sure when Killer Queen started playing, but as the waves of euphoria hit your body, you can hear the guitar solo ringing in your ears, the crescendo of the song only enhancing the thrill of your high as you ride your orgasm along with it.

You practically collapse  down on his chest, his hot skin sticking to your body. He’s still panting under you, warm breath hitting your neck as he holds onto your ass, his thrusts coming sloppier as he comes right after you. The sensitivity of your center makes you whine along with his strangled moans when he holds his hips to yours,burying himself in you as he paints your walls white.

For a moment you just stay like this, cheek resting on his chest, the sound of his heartbeat slowing down by the minute blending with the music coming from outside the closed door. His fingertips trace patterns on your bare arm that’s hugging his torso and keeping him close. You can feel your mind getting clearer, not just from the alcohol but from the high of your orgasm. And as the sound of the soft wind knocks against the window glass, you’re almost lulled to sleep just like this. 

Harry shifts slightly, you feel his lips pressing on your head before he carefully moves to sit up, letting you fall back on the bed gently. “Mind if I have a smoke, bunny?”

You give him a lazy smile, shaking your head as you look up at him, reaching for his locks that poke wildly on his head. Leaning down, he gives you a quick peck before getting up. Turning to your side, you watch as he looks around the room, finding his briefs thrown by the end of the bed and quickly putting them back on. He grabs the pack of cigarettes along with his lighter and heads towards the window.

Opening up the window, allowing the evening breeze to slip through the crack and dance around the room, he pulls a chair leaning on the wall to sit directly by it. The chair is stacked with colored cushions on top of it - one yellow, one red, and one blue - he throws two of them thoughtlessly on the floor next to it, adjusting the remaining one on his back as he leans down to sit on it. The stool is low enough so he can relax his feet on it comfortably, fingers fiddling with the lighter for a second before rising it to meet the end of the cigarette resting between his lips. Freddie Mercury still sings loudly in the living room, the sound coming a bit muffled thanks to the closed door, but making it as background noise as you come quiet to admire his figure against the last creeks of sunlight hitting the side of his profile.

You chew on your lip at the scene, wishing you could record it somehow and play it every night before falling asleep. There’s something inherently erotic about having him smoke a cigar just on his underwear, humming along to the tune of the song, right after having you scream his name into his pillow. 

The light streak of wind coming from the window breaks you out of your thoughts, making goosebumps rise on your skin as you come to the realization that you’re still sitting naked in his bed. It doesn’t take long for you to find your panties hanging from the edge of the mattress, picking them up to quickly slide them up your legs before you get up to search for your other articles of clothing. You can see the colorful pattern of your playsuit lying next to the closed door, but as you crouch to pick it up something else catches your attention in the pile of clothes thrown around mindlessly on top of a wooden chest

It’s the pink shirt. The same one he wore on the day you first saw him play.

A grin takes over your face as you pick it up, throwing it over your shoulders and sliding your hand on the sleeves. It has the faint scent of his cologne mixed with the lingering smell of cigarettes, something you’ve come to associate with him. You don’t bother to button up the material, letting it hug your body as you take a quick look at yourself in the full-body mirror leaning on the wall in front of you. You turn to him, his eyes still focused on the view outside, a thin coat of smoke leaving his lips and getting lost in the breeze, so you clear your throat as to get his attention.

He looks at you, eyes shamelessly scanning down your body and you’re afraid the cig will fall from his lips as they grow on a smug smirk. 

“Look at you,” he lets his feet fall from the stool, fixing them on the floor as he motions for you to get close. You approach him without a second thought, climbing on his lap as his hands hold onto your hips. He takes another look at you, grasping the cigarette with his fingers and taking out of his lips. Reaching for your face, his thumb caresses the side of your eyelid gently. “Looking like a proper rockstar now, even got the smudged makeup.”

You giggle. “That’s more your fault than mine.”

“I guess it is.” He taps the butt of the cig on an ashtray prompted on the stool of the window, eyes still trained on you. “Should do it more often then, s’fucking hot.”

You smile at the connotation, picking at the hem of the shirt and gazing at him from under your lashes. “Guess I might be starting to like pink, that’s also your fault.”

“Look way too good in pink not to like it, bunny.”

“Stop that.” You hide your face on the crook of his shoulder.

“Telling the truth.” His free hand grips on your waist, pulling you closer as he tilts his head to kiss at your neck. “Looks good in everything.”

“Could tell you the same thing.” You pull back to look at him, teeth sinking on your bottom lip as you smooth your hands down his bare chest.  “But I do prefer this fit on you, really brings out your eyes.”

“Naughty.”

You lean to connect your lips, hugging him close with your arms wrapped around his neck and enjoying the tender moment as you distribute kisses around his face just to hear him giggle. And when you bring your mouth to his again, you barely feel the softness of his lips before he all but jumps on his skin. You pull back, furrowing your brows, ready to question it but he beats you. “Forgot I got something for you.”

“For me?” You blink. “What is it?”

“Go sit on the bed while I fetch, will be just a minute.” He gives you a quick peck before you’re pulling away.

You do as he asks, sitting back on the bed, right next to the wrinkled spot where you lied just  minutes ago. He walks across the room, opening the door where you came from and disappearing in the hallway. The record is still blasting through the apartment walls, sound coming louder now that there’s no barrier between you.

While he’s gone, you take a moment to look around his room, something you didn’t get a chance to do when you first came in tangled on his arms. It’s not much messier than the living room, really, only the small piles of clothes you’ve spotted earlier that give the illusion of an untidy room. There’s a light wooden dresser that sits next to the chest, and from where you sit you can see two candles standing alone on top of it, similar to the ones on the piano. 

You swing your feet on the edge of the bed, letting them brush along a blue fluffy mat that hugs the floor underneath it. And as you run your hands on along his mattress, you notice the soft superficie, making you look down at a knitted blanket spreaded across the bed. It’s made of different colored squared stuck together in an oddly comforting pattern. You want to lie down on it, and let yourself be swallowed by the cozyness of the material against your skin, but before you can do so, Harry appears back in the room, closing the door behind him as he makes his way to you.

“This blanket is so nice.” You run your hands through it, smiling at him.

“Thanks, I knitted it.” The information makes your eyes bulge out, you open your mouth to inquire further but he’s already talking again. “This is-- uhm, I dunno, just something I thought you’d like it.”

The small box in his hand catches your attention as he hands it to you, his eyes looking down at it and even with just the moonlight illuminating the room you can see the blush on his cheeks. He props himself down on the spot next to you, watching your fingers turn the rectangular box around. It’s a cassette tape case, you quickly realize.

When you gaze at the back of it, there’s names of songs scribbled behind it. Not many, but a good collection of them, from Fleetwood Mac to The Bangles, and even Billy Joel. And it doesn’t take you long to find a pattern with the song chosen for the tape. Their all love songs. It makes your heart swell even more, if that’s even possible at this point.

“These are so cheesy,” you bite your lip, barely able to contain your smile.

He rolls his eyes. “They’re romantic, bunny.”

You keep examining the titles written neatly in his handwriting, raising your brows when you land on a specific one. “Every breath you take?” You tease, “That’s an interesting take on romance.”

“Shut up.” He giggles, eyes watching you carefully. “Do you like it?” His voice is adorably hesitant, it makes your heart stumble on a beat.

“I love it.” You say in just above a whisper, feeling the butterflies in your stomach get a little more vivid once your eyes land on the last song scribbled in the back of the tape. Somebody to Love. Brushing your thumb over the words softly, careful not to smudge the paint, you look up at him to find his green irises glistening at you. You shake your head almost in disbelief at the tenderness behind the gift. “Did you record this just for me?”

“Uhm yeah some of them I did but—” He looks down, focusing on his fingers as they pick a loose string from the blanket under his leg. “Some of them I just... Sang”

“You sang?” It takes you by surprise, how you thought there was no way he could make you feel warmer.

“Yeah… All of them, actually.” His dimples dig deep on his cheeks as he quickly peeks his eyes at you. “It’s just… The quality is shit when you record it from the radio and the dj keeps interrupting and stuff.” He shrugs, “Thought if I sang it could be more, personal? I guess.”

“I love it.” You repeat.

“You do?” 

“I do.” You chew on your lip, watching his eyes glimmering on the dim light of the room. “Is there a reason for this sudden present?”

“Kind of I--” He clears his throat, fully glancing at you. There’s an expectation behind his eyes, you can tell from the way he takes a sharp inhale that he’s nervous. “Thought I make you-- ask you, actually, if you’d be mine?”

You can’t help but giggle at how adorable he looks, your eyes getting a bit glossy as you nod without a blink of a thought. “Of course I’m yours, Harry.”

“Yeah?” His smile grows. “As like, m’girlfriend?”

Throwing your arms around him, you press your lips against his cheek, careful not to drop the tape in your hand still. You pull back, tilting your head as giving him a fond smile. “As in your girlfriend, yes.”

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #harry styles smut #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x reader #80s!harry #harry styles writing

[mostlyscenarios]

Knee Pads (18+)

Summary: Bokuto always looks forward to you being at his matches, you being there gives him a confidence boost and something to look forward to after the game. 

Characters: Bokuto X Reader, short features of MSBY. 

TW & Tags: 18+, PWP(I mean, it doesn’t just dive in?), smut (blowjob)

Word Count: 2k+

A/N: gn!reader. Cosmos SA is a completely made up name, I looked at a picture on my wall and thought of it. I had to take multiple breaks while writing this because I was getting horny. There has got to be a better word for balls and I will find it. 

Please don’t not repost my work anywhere or use any part of it! Likes and reblogs are appreciated. 

After almost every game Bokuto played, there was a reward waiting for him, regardless of whether he won or lost. Knowing you were waiting for him was the best motivation there was, and the reward including you on your knees for him? He could hardly control himself. Trying to keep focused on the game was no problem, he knew the sooner he finished the game the quicker he could get to you. That was his thought process at least, but this game seemed to be taking an exceptionally long time. The MSBY team was going up against Cosmos SA and they were entering the third round. The last two rounds had been thrilling, the team they were up against was a good challenge for them. What MSBY "lacked", their team was skilled in. Maybe under different circumstances the thought of being unskilled at something would be upsetting for Bokuto, but now he enjoyed the rivalry it led to. His teammates didn't have time to deal with him upset like Akaashi did, so his so-called emo mode only happened after a lost game (which you would quickly fix with a good hug and positive affirmations). His character growth since he got out of high school was impressive.

Before the third round had started, Bokuto started searching for you in the crowds. Due to being at a different arena, your usual spot was taken by the opposite teams fans. He found you towards the front row, waving your hands to catch his attention. He swore he saw the glimmer of your silver ring that matched his own. He had to take off his before every game but as soon as got off the court he put it back on. Since you to had started dating and gotten married, you had only missed 4 games total. You support kept him going (yes, even the hyperactive man got tired sometimes). He waved in your general direction, trying to not to call any attention to you in the crowds. Taking his place on the court, he tuned into the team in front of him- ready to win the game for you and his team. 

MSBY won after a series of spikes made by Bokuto went unblocked. He celebrated after each one, glancing in your direction making sure you saw him. That had gone unchanged since you started dating, he wanted to make you proud. After giving thanks to their supporters, he escaped to the locker room, avoiding the reporters hoping to ask them questions. He normally would stay around and answer a few questions but right now he needed to see you. By the time he had got to the locker room you were already in the hallway waiting for him. 

“Kou! You did great out there babe!” You wrapped your arms around him, giving him a kiss on the cheek at the same time. 

“Did you see my spike get through the one block?! Even Sakusa looked impressed.” 

“I did, I’m proud of you.” You could practically see him inflating, he lived for being praised- especially when the praise came from you.

Bokuto started to lean down to give you another kiss but before he could, the door slammed open. “That damn Atsumu, he could have at least warmed me before that fan hugged me,” Sakusa shuttered, not even noticing you and Bokuto by the lockers and going straight to the showers. 

Bokuto rolled his eyes dramatically and finishing what he had started seconds ago, he found your lips quickly giving you a sweet kiss. “I’m gonna go shower, you can wait here if you want.” 

“I’ll wait outside, I’m sure the other boys will be in here any minute.” 

“Okay,” Bokuto took his shirt off quickly, “I’ll be 5 minutes tops.”

You walked out of the locker room and caught Atsumu’s eyes, “did you two have any fun yet?” Astumu knew about your little adventures in the locker room with Bokuto. He had once caught you getting up from your knees and it didn’t take much to put it together, he had teased you ever since. He tried to tease Bokuto about it too but Bo just got proud and wanted to talk about his sex life and how good you were to him. 

“No, and no you can’t join us.” You answered him, remembering the time Atsumu had half jokingly asked once if he could join you sometime but you rejected the idea without a second thought. 

“Aw man, you got any cute friends you could set me up with?” Atsumu asked, leaning against the wall. 

“I’ll have to think on that. Now go shower, you smell horrid.” You pinched you nose, exaggerating. 

“Yeah, yeah.” Atsumu waved before walking into the locker room, where Hinata and Meian followed only moments after him. 

A few minutes later Bokuto walked out in a fresh outfit, his hair still a bit damp from his shower. He was handsome as always. You could tell that he used the body wash he had got with you after mentioning you liked the way it smelt. 

“I think that was record time Kou. Do we have somewhere to be?”

“No, I just wanted to be with you.” He leaned into you, giving a quick suggestive kiss on your neck.

“Hmm, are you sure you don’t just want something from me?” You grinned letting him wrap his arms around your shoulders. 

“Maybe…” He trailed off, looking around to see if anyone was there. “They will probably be out of the shower soon, you know Sakusa takes a long time.” 

“Follow me.” You grabbed his hand, pulling him to the staircases which were supposed to be staff only. “I think we can entertain ourselves here for a bit.” 

Maybe using the word entertain at this time was not a good idea since Bokuto was getting eager. 

“Why can’t we just do it here?” Bokuto said realizing the secluded staircase was empty, prompting a quick (gentle) slap on his chest. 

“Shush! There may be people around, I don’t want to take any chances.”

“...can we make out then?”

“Koutaro…” You started but changed your mind, “fine. But only a little.”

Thank goodness you two didn’t start your real activity because a couple of staff members walked through. They recognized Bokuto even without his uniform so they didn’t say anything to him about being in the employee only area. Before long about 20 minutes had passed of you chatting, time flew when you were with Bokuto. He chatted about the game; how spiking made him feel, and how great his teammates were. You listened attentively the whole time, and giving him input along the way. He asked you about your morning and apologized for leaving so early. Bokuto always made sure to give you a good cuddle before finally leaving to go to his warm ups. He just loved you so much, he wanted to give you the world. As you talked he started to focus on your lips, a bit shiny from your chapstick. 

He couldn’t help his growing arousal, and you noticed his fidgeting. When you said everyone should have cleared the locker room by now Bokuto literally swept you off your feet. Pushing the doors open, you quickly thanked the higher power(s) for letting the locker room be clear since he hadn't bothered to check before bursting in. He sat down on the benches towards the back of the room; just in case if anyone came in you had some protection. You were still on his lap, lips attached to his, then his neck, his chest, until you slid down on the floor to work your way down to his gray sweatpants. 

“You did so good today baby.” You murmured, gripping the sides of his sweats to set him free. 

“Wait a minute.” He put his hand in front of his crotch and you quickly pulled away; albeit a bit confused. He leaned back to dig in his duffle bag with his gear, then he pulled out his knee pads that he wore in todays game. “Put these on, I don’t want your knees to hurt.”

“Thanks Kou.” You gave him smile and pulled the knee pads up on each leg.

“Anything for you.” He replied, shifting a bit so you sit easier between his legs.

You got back into the same position, but this time comfier thanks to the knee pads. “Now, where were we?”

“Here.” Bokuto was quick, lifting his hips up while you pulled down his sweatpants. Licking your lips, you gently squeezed his thighs making sure to add a few kisses along the way- but still not where he wanted you to be.Trailing your hands over the seems of his briefs, you decided to leave them on a bit to tease him. First cupping him and then kissing his length through the fabric, you made your way back up to his lips pulling him to you so you didn’t have to leave your sitting position. He was getting the full treatment today, he was so patient waiting for the locker room to be cleared out. He could have easily taken you to your shared car and gotten in the backseat, but he know there wasn’t much room (though you two had made it work in the past).  

“No more teasing, please.” He begged, feeling his briefs dampen just the slightest from his precum. After hearing him, you made eye contact with him. He immediately jutted out his bottom lip to give you a pout while giving you puppy dog eyes. 

You wanted to giggle at his pleas but you were in the zone and didn’t want to break your concentration. “Patience Kou. I promise I’ll make you feel good.” 

Despite your words you gently tugged his briefs down, showing you his cock in its full glory. Feeling the cool air against him was a crime when he could be inside your warm mouth. Thankfully, you answered his wordless plea and put the tip in your mouth, rubbing it with your tongue in a circle then down the center getting a taste of salty precum. Pulling away he let out whine that got quickly cut off when you licked a straight line down his length before taking him in your mouth. 

The sounds made by your mouth while taking him were so erotic it took all his self control not to buck his hips. Using your lips to cover your teeth, you went down again this time taking him all the way. You gagged slightly but held you position. Bokuto hated to see you cry, he would always immediately wipe away any tears that fell. However, the tears forming in the corners of your eyes were nothing but seductive, he liked it. 

“Your doing so good, I promise I’ll treat you when we get home.” You made eye contact with Bokuto as he praised you. Running out of breath you pulled away, making sure to keep a good suction on him so you could make that pop sound he liked to hear. Saliva strung from your lips to his cock, dripping down. Shifting a bit lower, you positioned yourself to get easy access to his balls. You placed the hand that had your wedding ring on top of his thigh to prevent him from moving, and with the other you gently cupped his balls giving them a squeeze before taking one in your mouth. You made a pattern of all the motions he liked, sucking his cock up and down, using your hands as help when you weren’t deepthroating him, lapping the tip like a kitten, cupping his balls- giving gentle squeezes. The way your worked your mouth and hands drove him crazy. Although it had been long since you gave him his first blowjob, you always made him feel like a lovestruck teenager. 

 A loud moan came from Bokuto as you deepthroated him once more. Surely anyone who passed would know what you were up to, if the slick sounds weren’t clue enough. Hearing his moan made a heat light up inside of you that you had been avoiding- wanting to only focus on Bokuto. Bokuto knew he was close, all the pleasure building up as you kept working your mouth. 

Giving into himself, he gripped your chin encouraging you to take his whole length again only moments after you pulled away to give yourself a breath. Taking the hint, you allowed him to guide you exactly where he wanted you to be once more. His hand moved to the back of your head, where he held you firmly as nodded you head back and forth. 

“Y/N,” He moaned, “Let me finish in your mouth.”

You nodded the best you could from your spot, and not even a minute later his cum squirted into your mouth. Bokuto sighed from relief, if you looked at him closely you could see the sweat droplets forming on his head. Removing his hand from your head, your looked in his eyes making sure to open your mouth showing his collected cum. 

“Your so hot, you know that? Wait don’t swallow yet, please let me take a picture.” 

You nodded, giving permission for pictures and Bokuto got out his phone opening the camera app. You had tasted his cum so many times the taste no longer bothered you, and although you weren’t sure if science confirmed it or not, his healthy diet probably helped.

He took a picture of you with your mouth wide open with a peace sign up, then instructed you to smile and say cheese. “Good, you can swallow now.”

Quickly swallowing you wiped your month with the towel Bokuto had gotten out when he retrieved his phone. “Send those to me, will you?” 

“I love you Y/N.”

“You better after that! Cum doesn’t exactly taste great you know.” You teased, getting up from you spot and sitting next to him on the bench. “Let me see pictures.”

Bokuto handed you his phone, the first two pictures were a bit blurry but for some reason it worked. You admitted you definitely did look hot like that.

“We should make a video next time.” You said, cuddling into his side and still catching your breath.

“I have an old tripod, I’ll get out today.”

#bokuto #bokuto smut #haikyuu smut #hq smut #bokuto x y/n #bokuto x reader #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu x reader #my post #my writing #hq:mine #hqs:mine #🤤

[vivianweasley]

Let Her Go (F.W. x Reader)

Summary: “Only know you love her when you let her go.” childhood friends to lovers, unrequited love

Prompt: This is for @vogueweasley‘s 1K writing challenge and the prompt is #44 “What am I in your life? Because as of lately I feel as though I’ve been nothing to you.” Congrats again lovely!!

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader

Warnings: angst to a bit of fluff, unrequited love, mention of alcohol (Fred being drunk), language (one curse word), Fred being stupid

Word count: 2.2k

A/N: Did I write another friends to lovers with unrequited love? Yes, but I love this idea and I’m just writing to cope. The inspiration is Let Her Go by Passenger! Hope you guys would like it! (Also, let’s pretend they used telephone)

Special thanks to @valwritesx for the support<3

Disclaimer: all the pictures used in the header are from Pinterest. Credit goes to the original owners.

Please do NOT repost or translate my work on another site without explicit permission! Thank you! Reblogs and comments are always welcome:)

In your memories, you were always following Fred Weasley around.

You followed him around when he and George were throwing dungbombs in their neighbor’s garden. You were six, and he was seven.

You followed him around when it was your first year at Hogwarts. You were an awkward first year, but he has already established quite a reputation.

You followed him everywhere. Whether it was a quidditch game or detention, you were always there with him. Some people called you his sidekick, but you never really minded because you were absolutely head over heels for him.

You knew he knew about your stupid little crush; you weren’t trying to hide your feelings anyway. And you knew that your feelings weren’t reciprocated, but that didn’t matter. Loving him was your own business. Plus, you knew that at least you meant something to him, so you’ve still got a chance.

You loved him with all your heart and without a doubt. It was one-sided and lonely, but you never cared. Well, at least not until now.

~

It was your party to celebrate receiving a brilliant job offer from America. All of your friends were there.

“I’m so happy for you! But I’m also gonna miss you a lot!” George exclaimed for like the twentieth time today.

You chuckled, “I know, Georgie, I’ll miss you too! And I’m not leaving until the end of the next month. I’ve still got a lot to take care of before I go.” Now that you were actually talking about leaving, the whole concept of living in another country so far away finally began to feel more realistic. “There are just so many things and people I’ll miss.”

“By people, you mean Fred, right?” Ginny teased, “Speaking of which, where is he?”

“I don’t know. He promised he would come,” you replied, couldn’t control the blush that was climbing up your cheeks.

Ginny was right. Of course you were going to miss all of your friends dearly, but you were also going to miss Fred just a little more than the others. And that’s why you were a bit disappointed that he was so late to your party. You couldn’t stop yourself from checking the clock and the door every now and then. The butterflies in your stomach started dancing whenever you heard something outside, but they always die down when you realized it wasn’t him.

The clock soon struck 12, and when you were saying goodbye to the last of the guests, you finally accepted the fact that Fred was not going to show up tonight. 

~

You were helping at the joke shop the next day, and it was already noon when you heard Fred walking down the stairs. 

“Morning,” you could still hear the sleepiness in his voice, and you could tell from his messy hair and puffy eyes that it was a hangover. You frowned a little but you tried not to overthink. Surely he had a good reason, right?

“It’s already noon, brother,” George asked the question for you, “where were you last night?”

“I ran into Lee after work, and we went to the pub. Why?”

“Why? It was Y/N’s party last night, you forgot?”

“Wait, it was last night? Ah shit, I forgot. I’m sorry Y/N,” he turned to look at you. You could see the sorry on his face, but you couldn’t hear it in his voice. You knew that expression all too well. It was the same reaction whenever he got caught playing pranks on someone. He was saying that he’s sorry, but you knew he didn’t mean it.

“Fred, you do realize that she’s leaving soon, right?” George was finding this unbelievable too.

“Oh c’mon, last time I checked, we still have something called a portkey. And I’m sure Y/N will be visiting us pretty often, right Y/N?” The carelessness in his voice stung you.

Hurt, mixed with anger, was rushing to your brain. It was the moment that struck you, a moment that should have happened a long time ago. 

You always thought that even though Fred didn’t love you back, at least you were still a very important friend to him. But now you’ve finally realized that maybe this was just another self-comforting lie. It was not the first time he forgot something about you, and it seemed like he never cared anyway. 

“What am I in your life?” You asked quietly, “Because as of lately, I feel as though I’ve been nothing to you.”

“What are you saying? Y/N, you’re not making any sense.”

“I always thought it’s alright that my feelings aren’t reciprocated because it’s just my own business. But I’m not just that stupid girl who has a crush on you; I’m also your friend! And friends shouldn’t treat friends like nothing.” Your voice sounded calm, but tears were streaming down your face, “It was always me who’s looking for you and thinking about you, but friendship takes two, Fred. Maybe you should start trying too.” 

Then you just stormed out of the joke shop, before George could try to talk you round and before Fred could probably tell a joke to laugh it off.

~

One week later, you left for your new job in a hurry. You said goodbye to every one of your friends, except for Fred. 

Fred was feeling guilty but also confused. Why did you snap like that? What he did was surely just a small mistake, right? And he wasn’t too worried. He was sure that you would forgive him and come back to him. You always do. In fact, he was convinced that he could see you again the next holiday. 

Halloween night, George had plans, so Fred was in charge of closing up tonight. Looking at the empty bowl of sweets on the counter, Fred thought about you. You always remembered to fill it up, especially around Halloween.

The autumn wind was getting cold, and he pulled his coat tighter as he walked outside. The kids on the street were all dressed up, going from door to door trick-or-treating. Fred remembered how you two and George would always go trick-or-treating together on Halloween since you were kids. Even after you all grew up, you would still drag him to go with you. But now he was walking alone in his business suit, on his way home. This moment he felt as if the kid inside him has left with you.

When he got home, he turned on the TV and started switching channels absentmindedly. You should be there, suggesting to watch a horror movie, but then deciding on something family-friendly. You would always try to have a Halloween movie marathon but end up falling asleep, lying on his shoulder. He found it adorable, but he never told you that.

Fred sighed as he laid back on the couch. This was the first Halloween without you.

~

Christmas morning, Fred walked downstairs, noticing something was different in the air. The Burrow was quieter. Sure, most of his family were already up and were gathered around the Christmas tree, chatting and laughing. But you weren’t there.

You weren’t there, showing up at the Burrow way too early in the morning. You weren’t there knocking on his door and waking him up using a cheerful, sing-song voice. He would always groan and tell you to give him five more minutes. But this year, when he woke up to the mechanical sound of the alarm clock, he really missed your cheerful voice.

Fred walked downstairs with everyone wishing him a Merry Christmas, but his eyes were searching the crowd for a glimpse of you that was just impossible to be found. This was the first Christmas without you.

~

New Year’s Eve, Fred and George were at the local pub’s New Year countdown party, along with the other boys. Just like usual, the boys had too much drink and passed out in the pub.

When Fred was only half-awake, he heard your voice calling him, “Freddie! C’mon, let’s get you home!” A soft smile appeared on his lips. You were back! He knew you would be back for the new year. He knew you wouldn’t leave him for too long.

You were always there to pick him up and carry him home after New Year’s party. He was always amazed at how you managed to carry him as he was taller than you, but you were always there for him. He just felt so lucky now to have you in his life, and seeing you in front of him made him smile like an idiot.

You were frowning seeing him lying on the floor, but you soon gave in when you saw that smile. You chuckled and whispered, “Happy New Year, Freddie.” 

The soft smile stayed on Fred’s lips. He felt at home.

When Fred woke up again, he found himself lying on the floor of the pub. The pub was already empty. The boys were already gone. Someone must have picked them up, but there was no one for him. He finally began to realize that it was just a dream. You were still in America, and he was still a loser who’s lying alone on the cold floor on the first day of the new year. 

Fred managed to walk out of the pub. The freezing wind was slapping on his face, trying to sober him up. He walked past a coffee shop. That was your favorite. 

You were all he could think of now. Fred knew that you had a crush on him, but he always believed that it was just a stupid little childhood crush and it would fade as soon as you all grow up. He was just too familiar with you, and familiarity wasn’t what he thought he was looking for in romance.

But you were already in every part of his life. No matter where he goes or what he does, you were always there. But now you weren’t.

There was the first time Fred told a joke, and you weren’t the first to laugh. He loved the way you laugh, for it could always brighten up his whole day, but he never admitted it. 

There was the first time he was humming a song, and you weren’t there to sing along. He loved your voice, for it could always calm him down, but he wouldn’t tell you that.

There was the first time when he realized that he needed you in his life.

The first time when he realized that he loved you more than he thought he did.

It was like muscle memory for him to remember everything about you, but he wasn’t even aware of that, and you obviously didn’t know too. Instead of showing you how much he loved and appreciated you, he just took you for granted because he thought you would never leave. 

Fred dialed your number that night. He thought he might go crazy if he couldn’t hear your voice tonight. As he waited for you to pick up, he felt the inside of his stomach were all twisted together, but it was soon replaced by butterflies when he heard your voice.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Y/N, it’s me, Fred,” he didn’t know why he stuttered, “S-so, I was wondering...do you know where is the photo of us at the station? It was your first year of school. Did you take it with you?”

“No, I gave it to George. Why?” He couldn’t tell your emotion through the phone. Were you annoyed? Or were you happy to hear his voice too?

“Oh, umm, nothing, just missing the old days.” 

“Oh, okay...Anything else?”

There were so many things that he wanted to say. He wanted to tell you that he’s sorry and he missed you so much, but you sounded impatient. So all he managed to say was, “Happy New Year, Y/N.”

There was a few seconds of silence; then he heard you reply, “Happy New Year, Fred.”

Hanging up the phone, Fred felt his heart sank. He hated how emotionless you sounded, and he knew he had to do something. Maybe he couldn’t convince you to come back to him, but at least he owed you an apology.

~

Valentine’s Day. Evening, you walked out of the building you worked in. It was on a wizarding street just like Diagon Alley, so it didn’t take you too long to adjust to the new environment. 

The shops on this street were all having Valentine’s specials, and it reminded you of the Valentine’s specials of Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes. Fred always had the most interesting and romantic ideas-you shook your head. You promised yourself not to think about him anymore.

A shop at the corner captured your attention. You’ve never seen this shop before. You looked for the name of the shop and the sign above read “WWW’.

Just when you thought you were losing your mind and associating everything with Fred again, the shop owner walked out. 

Fred smiled when he saw you. The same beaming smile that had you head over heels for him for as long as you could remember. “Hi, I'm new here. Would you mind showing me around?”

~

A/N: Sorry if the ending feels a bit rushed! I felt like it made sense to end here so the reader could decide if she wants to forgive him or not. 

taglist: @valwritesx @protect-remus @zaphdekota @glimmering-darling-dolly @dogweedanddeathcaps @gloryekaterina @reenfluffmarshmallow @wand3ringr0s3 @heavenlymidnight @hunnybunimdun @izzyyy-1 @magicalxdaydream @starlightweasley @shadowsinger11 @idont-knowrn @thisismynerdyself @theweasleysredhair @harrysweasleys @levylovegood @cinammonjae @mrbillymontgomery @slytherinsunrise @rosemusic18 @sarcasticallywitty15​ @ac127​ @1127203457 

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#fred weasley #weasley twins #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley fic #fred weasley fanfic #fred weasley fanfiction #harry potter fanfic #harry potter fanfiction #vogueweasley1k #tw alcohol

[suchalonelysunflower]

The Best One Yet

(Ashton Irwin X Reader || Fluff)

Summary: Reader surprises Ashton on his brithday 🥰✨

Warnings: Light sweating, mentions of smut (nothing going on here) maybe a few mistakes (not my first langueage 🥺)

Word Count: 1.8k

A/N: it’s not my best work but it’s just a little writing for my favorite person’s birthday 🥰 I have so much to say about him and what he means to me, and yet I still can’t find the words. Feedback is always welcome, so are reblogs and comments. I love to hear from you guys, you always make my day 💙 You can finas my other works HERE

Ps: this is my favorite gif of him I mean 🥺 look at his smile 🥺❤️

He was dreaming when the buzz of his phone woke him up. He doesn’t remember what he was dreaming about, but he knows it must’ve been a good dream because you were in it. With a groan, the black-haired man turned around to find the other side of the hotel bed empty, sighing as he remembered that you were thousands of miles away from him.

With one eye opened, he stretched his arm to grab the little buzzing machine that shook the nightstand with every vibration, bringing it to his ear as he muttered a small “hello?”

“Happy Birthday to you,

Happy birthday to you,

Happy birthday dear Ashton,

Happy birthday to you”

The sound of your voice immediately brought a smile to his tired face, making his stomach filled with butterflies

“Happy birthday, baby” You said lovingly through the phone “Hope I didn’t wake you up. I’m not really sure what time zone you are in right now”

“I needed to wake up anyway. Thanks, love. I really needed to hear your voice”

You hummed “Even my off-key awkward rendition of happy birthday?”

“Baby, even if you read the dictionary I wouldn’t get tired of listening to you” he laughed “I miss you so much”

“I miss you too, Ash. More than you can imagine” a comforting silence fell upon you both, you missed each other terribly. But you won’t let that ruin his day “So, tell me. What do you have plan for today?”

Ashton went on about the interviews they have planned, how he was actually excited to go sightseeing around the city since they’ve never been there before. He complained about how they wouldn’t have enough time for a proper sound check but the venue was great and it sold out in a matter of days. You loved to listen to him talk about his tour life. He was made for it, no doubt. Bringing the same amount of passion and energy every single night without missing a beat. He loved it and you love him.

“I think the boys are planning to go out after the concert to celebrate. But I don’t know…”

“What?”

“It’s just not the same without you here”

It was the first birthday in years that he celebrated without you. Hell, it was even the first tour in a long time that you weren’t beside him all the way. He understood that you were needed in LA, having just inaugurated your first business, and he was oh so very proud of you. But he hated the fact that that kept you away from him.

Ashton would never admit it to his fellow band mates, but he was utterly jealous of the fact that they all had their significant other tagging along with them and you weren’t there. He needed you more than the air itself, and he hated pretending that everything was fine because it clearly wasn’t.

He tries though. He sends you pictures of things that reminded him of you, goofy selfies he took backstage of him and the boys and you talked every single day, weather it was a phone call or facetime or just a simple text. Showing you how much he loves you in every possible way. But that didn’t change the fact that his heart aches every time he has to say goodbye to you, or when he reaches for you in the mornings only to find the other side of the bed empty. It wasn’t easy, but he couldn’t wait to be by your side once again.

“I know, bub” you said sadly “But don’t let that get in the way of your special day! We will be together sooner than you think, I promise”

“Sooner can’t come soon enough. I need you” he whined

“Me too, Ash. I’m so bumped I can’t give you a proper birthday morning celebration”

He caught up your teasing tone immediately “Yeah? How would – What would you do?”

“Well… I would start by kiss-“you were interrupted by some loud background noises, cutting you off completely “Agh, sorry Ash. I need to go. Something just came up. But we’ll talk later, okay?”

“Okay” said Ashton, not trying to hide the disappointment from his voice.

“I know it’s not easy, bub. But try to enjoy your day, yeah? I’ll have a surprise waiting for you at the end of the day”

“I’ll do my best, doll” he smiled through the phone “I love you”

“I love you more”

After you hanged up, you turned around to see Luke smirking at you. You rolled your eyes.

“Was it really necessary to push my luggage to the floor?”

“Sorry” he said laughing “But I was not willing to listen to you guys have phone sex so early in the morning” you rolled your eyes again at your best friend, but you couldn’t contain the smile that came with it “Did he suspect anything?”

“He has no clue. Thank you so much for doing this”

You were sitting at the edge of the bed of your hotel room. The guys planned this whole thing to surprise Ashton on his birthday, knowing how bad he missed you.

“No need to thank us, love” Luke said, helping you with the last of your bags “We were just so tired of his gloomy face and we also did miss you”

You got up and went to hug the tall boy, thanking the starts above for giving you such amazing friends.

“You know the plan, right?”

“Yes, I’ll wait here until the driver comes to pick me up and drive me to the venue. I got it” you answered, unable to hide your enthusiasm.

“He’s gonna be so happy when he sees you” Luke said while placing a kiss on your forehead “I already bet Michael that he’s gonna cry”

“You’re kidding! Count me in!” you laughed. Wondering how you would manage to keep your happiness in until the time comes.

 Ashton’s day wasn’t as awful as he thought it would be. He has a nice breakfast with his brothers, a videocall with his family and he saw a lot of cute projects for him in social media. The interviews went smoothly, all of them with a little surprise for him. Visiting the city was his favorite part, he truly loved how much culture was scattered around the streets, each one more interesting than the other. He sent you countless of pictures, not knowing that you were just a few minutes away, smiling every time your name popped out on his screen.

It was almost time for the concert and his mood has increasingly improved. He did his routine without missing a step and was more than ready to jump on stage.

At the same time, you were getting up in the car that was going to drive you to the venue. You and the boys agreed to do it in the middle of the show, so you had to be very careful not to run into him. Your legs were jumping up and down with anticipation, your smile never fading at the thought of seeing you boyfriend again.

Ashton felt the adrenaline running through his veins and he hit the final beats on the drums. It was time for “Amnesia” so he was thankful to get a small break to catch his breath. His eyes met Calum’s as he got closer to drink some water, furrowing his brows in confusion when he saw Calum grin suspiciously.

“You guys are amazing!” Luke said into the mic, grabbing Ashton’s attention “And, as you may know, today’s the birthday of someone very special to us”

The crowd cheered loudly, making Ashton blush and smile to the ground. Suddenly self-conscious of Andy and his camera crew surrounding him in expectation.

“He is the drummer of our band, the most kind soul to ever walk the earth, the most talented motherfucker there is, the father of our little band here and the sweatiest man alive” Luke continued, turning to face the drummer “Ashton Fletcher Irwin everybody!”

You could hear the fans screaming from the side of the stage, but all your focus was on the smiling boy that sat in a stool. It was almost time before Luke gives the signal, you were so nervous and happy at the same time. Maybe you would be the one to cry after all.

“We have a little surprise for our hype man up here, but I need all of you to sing with me, okay?” That was it. That was the signal. You took a deep breath before starting to walk towards them.

Ashton smiled at the fans while the first notes of “Happy Birthday” ranged through his ears. He confidently stood up from his seat so he could take all of that love in. It wasn’t until Calum shouted a “mate!” that he could catch a glimpse of you walking towards him with a huge cake in your hands.

“Holy fuck!” He yelled as his eyes winded. Not wasting any second jumping out of the drum stage and running towards you.

Michael was quick to grab the cake from your hands before your body crashed into Ashton’s. He grabbed you by the waist, making you jump and wrap your legs around his torso as he spin you around, laughing like a child. Once he stopped, you cupped his face and brought him into a kiss.

The crowd roared and cheered, but you couldn’t hear them, not anymore. You were lost inside the long awaited kiss. Numbed to the outside world as your hands found their way to tangle into Ashton’s curls. Not caring about the sweaty mess that was you boyfriend, but concentrating on the way your lips melted into each other, saying everything that needed to be said.  Relishing on the fact that you were, once again, together.

“You’re here!” said Ashton in disbelief, laughing as he couldn’t contain his happiness “I can’t- H-how?!”

He put you down and wrapped his arms around you once more, pulling you even closer to him.

“You have to thank your band mates” You said, trying to contain the tears “They planned this whole thing”

Ashton lifted his gaze and looked at his three best friends, all of them with a grin on their faces “Thank you” he muttered “Thank you so much”

The three of them didn’t hesitate to join the hug, making it a little bit more messy and sweaty than it already was. Separating only when a crew member appeared with the cake that was long forgotten at the side of the stage. Ashton’s grip didn’t stuttered for a second as he blew the candles.

“What’d you wish for?” you asked.

“Nothing!” He said as he kissed you one more time “I got my wish right here. How could this get any better?”

You kissed his cheek and whispered into his ear “I got a couple of ideas… I did promise you a surprise later, no?” you teased and started to walk away, leaving the boys to finish the concert.

Ashton groaned as he caught your devilish grin “You’re gonna be the death of me, doll” he shouted at you, making you laugh.

He turned around and walked back to his drum kit, smile never fading as he thought that this was, without a doubt, his best birthday yet.

#ashton irwin #5 seconds of summer #ashton irwin fluff #ashbday #ashbirthday #5sos #fanfic #5sosfam #5 seconds of summer fic #ashton irwin imagine #ashton x reader #ashton 5 seconds of summer #ashton 5sos #calum hood #luke hemmings #michael clifford #5 seconds of summer imagine #5 sos imagine #suchalonelysunflower #birthday boy #ashton blurb #calum 5sos #luke 5sos #michael 5sos

[mollymauk-teafleak]

Quiet

Listen, this is the most self indulgent fic ever but hey, stuff is bad right now and some domestic, about to be parents Jupeter is just what I need right now. Maybe it’s what you need too! 

If it is, I’d love if you left a comment or reblogged 

Trigger Warnings: trans pregnancy

-----

The Carte Blanche was never quiet.

An old ship, it constantly creaked and grumbled around the joints, the thick metal skin made brittle noises in the impossible cold of space around them and the vents were always making that low humming noise that everyone on the crew was grateful for because it meant the oxygen calculator was working.

It was never silent, not even now even in what Juno’s instincts and the glow of the SimSun lights told him was the early morning. Not even when he was the only one awake apparently, no one else in the family room or the kitchen, soft snoring coming from the closest bunk which was Rita’s.

He’d always been one for waking up earlier than anyone else, earlier than was really advisable. He’d always been the twin up first, tiptoeing around the creaky floorboards he’d memorised so he wouldn’t wake up Ben in the top bunk or Sarah in her own room. Those few hours had been precious to Juno for a reason he couldn’t name, maybe just because it was the only time he truly had for himself, when he didn’t need to be constantly aware of other people and didn’t have to gear every action towards helping them and being the responsible older brother he was supposed to be.

But thinking that made him feel selfish. So he’d told himself he didn’t know why he liked those still hours where it felt like he was the only person on Mars, when he could make himself a cup of hot tea and take it out onto the fire escape and watch the sun come up.

And then it became a habit. So here he was, thirty years and change later, awake at an ungodly hour that had no sun or shift in light to tether itself to, just the endless punctured darkness of deep space. And he decided to make breakfast, that way there would be some for everyone when they woke up.

The habit of taking care of other people hadn’t died either. Even when his brother and mother had.

Juno frowned, not wanting these unpleasant thoughts to crowd his head, not this early. He focused instead on cracking the eggs into the pan, stirring them slowly with butter so they formed gelatinous clouds, ready to be reheated for when everyone started trickling in. Their next job was a good few days of travel away so this was as close to a vacation as a company of thieves would ever get and no one would be in a rush. It would be nice to have a hot breakfast ready and waiting on a day like that, a day where no alarm had gone off and every hour that stretched ahead was yours alone.

So bread came next, slicing it carefully for big stacks of toast. The long haul stasis bread wasn’t great, chewier and tougher than anything made planetside but it could taste just as good when you dipped it in eggs, sprinkled it with cinnamon and fried it up. That was real vacation, no school, no work food.

He was halfway through his stack of bread when he heard the first footsteps on the tiles, echoing strangely in the metal arteries of the ship. Juno expected Buddy or Jet, who saw every day as a work day whether there was a job in sight or not but he knew who he wanted it to be. And it looked like he was in luck.

Nureyev wore their comforter wrapped around his shoulders, an old shirt of Juno’s that he would never fathom why he’d bothered to bring aboard with him and a pair of shorts. His feet, bare arms and legs would be freezing touching the cold metal but he’d been getting so hot lately that Juno didn’t think he’d care. He wasn’t wearing any jewellery save two of Juno’s string bracelets on one skinny wrist, or even his glasses, no make up and his hair was sleep matted and sticking up wildly.

He was the most beautiful thing Juno thought he’d ever seen.

“Good morning,” he kept his voice low, Nureyev was clearly still waking up, “Little early for you?”

Nureyev yawned, showing his pointed incisors the way a cat would, ambling over and slumping against Juno, “I woke up and you weren’t there. I missed you…”

Juno smiled and inhaled the sleepy, powdery scent of his hair fresh off the pillow, “I didn’t go far.”

“Too far,” Nureyev murmured, kissing his shoulder.

Juno pulled the pan off the heat and turned to hold him properly, slipping a hand past the comforter to touch the secret he knew he was hiding there, the skin tighter than it should be between his hips, the little knot riding low in his stomach. Their secret. Well, theirs and Vesper’s, who’d obviously seen it on Nureyev’s last physical scan and nearly had a heart attack. But she’d promised not to tell anyone else until they were ready.

Juno knew they were just two bundles of formless cells, he’d been doing his research and promptly making himself nauseous when his research went too far. But he was already picturing two impossibly tiny babies, fit to nestle in the palm of his hand, with Nureyev’s always bright eyes and his dark hair, as beautiful as Bianca. In his head, they looked a little like he and Ben had, when they were very small.

Nureyev smiled at his palm on his skin, “They’re awake. I think they get up when I do.”

Juno pouted, playfully and also kind of genuinely jealous, wishing he could feel them too, “Well, tell them I say hi, would ya? Go curl up on the sofa, I’ll bring you a plate over and you’re gonna eat every bite.”

Nureyev pulled a face but relented. The one thing Juno and Vesper had ever agreed on was making sure he abided by the millions of rules for pregnant people.

“Yes ma’am,” he hummed, nudging Juno with his hip as he passed. Making Juno blush was a sport to him and he needed to keep his skills honed.

Juno watched with a fond smile as he went to collapse on the sagging, ratty old sofa that had sat in the family room for as long as any of them had lived aboard. Nureyev tired easily these days and he could often be found nodding or outright dozing on that sofa, even in the middle of meetings. They were going to have to tell people soon, he was worried Buddy was going to fire Nureyev if he did it again.

He was slightly too tall for it, his feet left dangling over the arm of it. Juno grinned, wanting to kiss those skinny ankles and then move up. But not in the family room. Not since they’d been caught in any case.

He turned back to the food, finishing up then piling up a stack of the french toast, all the crispiest and darkest pieces where the syrup had started to caramelise. Nureyev liked when sweet was just starting to turn bitter. He said it was better that way. And tea as well, there had to be tea. Two cups of the decaffeinated stuff that was closer to flavoured water than actual tea but Juno had promised Nureyev he’d stay on it as long as he had to, as an act of solidarity.

Juno brought it all over as carefully as he could, managing not to spill anything, setting it down on the coffee table. As soon as the scent of vanilla and cinnamon entered his nose, Nureyev’s eyes opened lazily and he grinned.

“You’re a real gem,” he sighed, reaching out but not for any of the food, just to wind his fingers through Juno’s, “Being so good to me…”

Juno smiled and brought the fingers to his lips, kissing them lightly, looking up at him with a single dark gold eye full of love, “It’s my absolute pleasure.”

Nureyev was a miracle worker, Juno knew that much. He’d seen him disappear on command, he’d seen him fight his way out of the tightest corners, wear different faces and entirely new personalities as easily as other men would wear a new jacket. He’d seen Nureyev do a thousand things that would make anyone gasp.

But ever since they’d realised he was pregnant, since that day after a job where they’d all gotten a few scrapes and had been crowded into the infirmary, when Vesper’s face had gotten so still and eerily calm and she’d asked everyone but Nureyev to please leave the room, when Juno had stalked the hall outside the infirmary for twenty minutes before he was pulled in to see a stunned, grinning Nureyev and those tiny blurry shapes on the screen.

Ever since then, Juno had been so taken with seeing his dear thief perform such a human miracle. Nothing that would make anyone gasp or stand and stare, nothing with such a theatrical flourish Nureyev was used to. This miracle was performed slowly, with early mornings spent being sick and deep shadows under his eyes and aches and twinges. This miracle was messier and more painful and scarier. But god, when Juno looked at him, he felt like his heart was just going to burst in his chest.

Because it reminded him that Nureyev wasn’t a magician, he wasn’t an angel, he wasn’t a man who could weave starlight or pluck the planets from the sky. He was a human. And he was no less amazing and wonderful and beautiful for that.

Plus, it helped shake off the lingering sense of intimidation Juno still got when he looked at him sometimes. As fun as that could be under the right circumstances.

“What are you thinking about?” Nureyev was sat up now, nibbling on a piece of toast delicately with those pointed teeth of his that made Juno feel funny.

Juno laughed gently, squeezing the fingers he still held.

“Just thinking about how much I love you.”

#jupeter #juno steel #peter nureyev #trans nureyev #cw: trans pregnancy #just some soft #soft gentle times on the carte blanche #don't we all wish we were on the carte blanche and things were all okay #tpp #the penumbra podcast #fic

[hellcures]

—    BASICS.

▸ IS  YOUR  MUSE  TALL  /  SHORT  /  AVERAGE? :   she’s pretty short, but average for a girl  –  five foot three!

▸ ARE  THEY  OKAY  WITH  THEIR  HEIGHT? :  hell yeah!  she’s little but she’s mean, alright.  she can kick ass, and she takes pride in the fact that she doesn’t have to be a bulky big foot to do that.  however, she finds it a little inconvenient at times, specially if she falls for a tall guy ( does this even need specification, honestly ).

▸ WHAT’S  THEIR  HAIR  LIKE? :   it’s naturally wavy, but never curly.  depending on air humidity, it gets more wavy or straight.  her mom had very strong hair, so for most of her life lana’s kept her menace long and silky, in some sort of tribute to her.  the first time she cut it real short, like, shoulder-length, was when she finally got to abaddon and managed to avenge her parents’ murder.  then she let it grow and in later seasons she just wears it short like that.  here go the three possible scenarios.

▸ DO  THEY  SPEND  A  LOT  OF  TIME  ON  THEIR  HAIR  /  GROOMING? : not really.  she doesn’t spend much time worrying about her appearance  –  she usually lets her hair do its thing.  at most, she’ll make her waves more prominent with a curler for parties or special occasions.

▸ DOES  YOUR  MUSE  CARE  ABOUT  THEIR  APPEARANCE  /  WHAT  OTHERS  THINK? :  as stated above, not really.  yes, she has a constant desire to be fit and prepared, but that’s mostly just for health and for her job.  she thinks there are way more interesting aspects to her than her appearance, so if she isn’t someone’s type/favorite person, she doesn’t fret over it.  dhe is a firm believer that people come and go but the right ones tend to stick around, so she just lets the law of attraction do its magic.  she feels she has enough to worry about as it is to start fussing over first impressions and whatnot.

—    PREFERENCES.

INDOORS  or  OUTDOORS?    RAIN  or  SUNSHINE?    FOREST  or  BEACH?    PRECIOUS METALS  or  GEMS?    FLOWERS  or  PERFUMES?    PERSONALITY  or  APPEARANCE?    BEING  ALONE  or  IN  A  CROWD?    ORDER  or  ANARCHY?   PAINFUL  TRUTHS  or  WHITE  LIES?    SCIENCE  OR  MAGIC?   PEACE  or  CONFLICT?    NIGHT  or  DAY?    DUSK  or   DAWN?    WARMTH  or  COLD?    MANY  ACQUAINTANCES  or  A  FEW  CLOSE  FRIENDS?    READING  or  PLAYING  A  GAME?

—    QUESTIONNAIRE.

▸ WHAT  ARE  SOME  OF  YOUR  MUSE’S  BAD  HABITS? : dwelling in the past is her biggest one.  her nostalgia has gotten her in some really dark places, but considering there was a time in her life when all that was good and pleasant was in the past?  she ocassionally needed the trip down memory lane to keep herself going.  in present time that bad habit was died down considerably, but she still hasn’t moved past it completely.

then there’s also her habit of isolating herself from the outside world, due to her abandonment issues.  it’s another thing she picked up in that confusing and scary time in her 20′s, and sometimes it’s just too exhausting for her to invest in people that could very well leave her at any second.  BIG abandonment and trust issues she also actively tries to move on from.

▸ HAS  YOUR  MUSE  LOST  ANYONE  CLOSE  TO  THEM?  HOW  HAS  IT  AFFECTED  THEM? : the loss of her parents at such a young age pretty much shaped her entire existence.  as stated above, it made her believe everyone she really loved would end up leaving her, and it developed into serious abandonment and trust issues.  it also made her feel very insecure about who she was?  mainly because there were questions she never got to ask, answers out of her reach.  like, did she love tacos because her mom liked them, or because she ate them while pregnant?  was she decent at juggling because her dad had good eye-hand coordination?  sure, she had her aunt to ask up until she was eighteen, but there was only so much she could answer.  

but there were also positive and essential aspects to that loss.  it made her want to be worth the trouble, give to the world and the people around her all she possibly could in the time she was given. she wanted to compensate for making it out alive the night they were murdered, and above all, she wanted to make them PROUD, so she always felt she had a bigger purpose than just going to college and becoming a clinical therapist.  that’s why her later-discovered family legacy and hunting made all the sense in the world to her.  such a big loss made her want to be a light in the world, and help people the way she couldn’t be helped that night.  it made her compassionate, self-sufficient, relentless, and very empathetic  –  all very important personality traits for the woman she is today.

▸ WHAT  ARE  SOME  FOND  MEMORIES  YOUR  MUSE  HAS? :   brief flashes of holidays with her parents.  the warmth of her mother’s smile when she first saw lana walk.  her dad’s soothing voice when he sung her lullabies. saturday morning shopping sprees with her aunt nell.  any of the Winchester’s sporadic visits following her parents’ funeral.  her first kiss.  stargazing with sam on sleepless nights and then falling asleep on his shoulder without a fault.  honestly, anything sam-related.  her first successful hunt.  fun bartending nights at the roadhouse.  random karaoke nights with dean, or katherine.  driving up to the nearest beach and letting the water wash over her feet for hours.  pizza nights at the bunker.  and that’s just on the top of her head.

▸ IS  IT  EASY  FOR  YOUR  MUSE  TO  KILL? :  no.  it’s never easy for her to watch the life vanish from someone’s eyes, but most of what she kills was already dead to begin with, so she accepts it.  she saves way more lives than she takes, and that’s what matters.

▸ WHAT’S  IT  LIKE  WHEN  YOUR  MUSE  BREAKS  DOWN? :   it takes her quite a bit to break down, but when she does, it’s chaos.  she holds it in for as long as possible, but once it’s out, it’s all shades of sobbing and repressed angst.  if she’s more frustrated than sad, she hits things just to try and get rid of the anger obstructing her chest, she screams into pillows, she falls on her knees, etc.  When she’s more sad than frustrated, she sits on her bathroom floor and sobs it out, then gets back up again and acts like it never happened.  but it did.  and my girl could use more hugs, tbh.

▸ IS  YOUR  MUSE  CAPABLE  OF  TRUSTING  SOMEONE  WITH  THEIR  LIFE? :   yes, she is.  it takes her a while to trust someone so much, but it’s very possible.  plus, she tends to prioritize others’ lives over her own, so it wouldn’t be a stretch to say she’d put herself on the line for the greater good if push came to shove.

▸ WHAT’S  YOUR  MUSE  LIKE  WHEN  THEY’RE  IN  LOVE? :   she can be a bit jealous and insecure, but when she loves, she loves HARD.  she puts everything she’s got into it, and she’s your best friend and your fiercest supporter, no matter what.  honesty will never falter, and you can bet she’ll be the most faithful and loyal woman on the planet.  a hopeless romantic, too, so you can expect some really sweet gestures and surprises along the way.  lana as a lover is understanding, committed, compassionate, fun, forgiving, and reckless when it comes to protecting her partner and keeping the relationship afloat.  however, most of her tries at love have failed, due to the fact that she’s only been truly in love ONCE, and she doubts that one man will ever stop lurking in her heart.  so, to any other contenders for lana’s lifelong affection?  good luck.  you’re gonna need it.

REPOST, DON’T REBLOG PLEASE!

TAGGED BY: the lovely @spitfcre​ TAGGING: anyone who wants to!

#( ✧･ﾟ 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐝𝐨𝐨𝐫 °。study. ) #phew that was something #but i loved it

[whiskehorange]

Slasher’s Ideal Valentine’s Day

As a gift of my gratitude for the endless love, support, likes, reblogs and friendships that I have made in the short while I have been on Tumblr, I give you a Slasher’s Ideal Valentine’s Day!

Every year, I’ll add the characters from my roster that weren’t there the previous year, and so on! This year, because I have so many characters on my roster, I’m going to do the main slashers for this year! Next year will be the rest, or just a few more, and so on...

Enjoy, and Happy Valentine’s Day from all your favorite Slasher men!!

Jason Voorhees

His gift to you: Flower’s and a Special Picnic!

Jason wants to give you something that he think’s reflects your personality and how beautiful you are

What better way than a wide variety of forrest flowers, dandelions, and various colorful and bright plants that came from his very own forrest!

After he decides that he’s given you enough flowers for the day, it off to a special dinner that he planned himself. Of course his mother helped guide him through what all to do to make it romantic, but he was determined to make this by himself, to prove to you this is an important day for him

The dinner is short, with mainly some foods he remembers his mother used to make.  Of course, nothing really works in his cabin, appliance wise, so no extravagant dinner is going to be eaten, sorry

Instead, you’re greeted with something a bit simpler, something that Jason planned out by himself

Covering your eyes and guiding you through the woods, Jason leads you to a remote part of the forrest, where both of you first met. The clearing was perfect for what he had planned; A small blanket sprawled out on the grass and forrest flowers and candles spread out in the grass. A basket with an array of fresh sandwiches and treats that him and his mother used to make. He made those in a counselor kitchen, of course

It was sundown, and the faint yellow hue and popping of the candles made it seem like a dream, which is what Jason wanted it to be

Holding you close to him under the stars, looking out upon the lake, the glistening reflection of the moon on the rippling water. This is all he ever could have asked for. Anything to make you stay with him. Anything to show how much he loves you

Michael Myers

His gift to you: A night on the town, with some candy, of course!

It took a lot out of Michael to live up to this, but he owed it to you. The constant coming home at various times, tracking blood throughout the house, being so quiet and wearing that mask all the damn time!

You knew it was what he did, and how he did it and you didn’t mind at all, of course you wouldn’t be with him if you did. Yet you still loved spending time with him every chance you got, without that mask and all. Just being a normal couple for a few hours was amazing

Michael knew that it was a lot to take in and sure as hell was going to make it up to you tonight. Putting on his best shirt and pants, ones that you happened to buy him the week before, he headed into town to pick up a few things for you

Michael was uncomfortable almost the whole time. It was like he was letting his guard down completely, and everyone would stare at him. They did, but only for a second, just at his height and just intimidating appearance. Otherwise, they passed by him like nothing was wrong

It had been so long since he had been not only in public, but in a store. Tons of people in one place at once, getting along and talking, working together made him sick, but it was Valentines Day and this was for you

Then there was the candy aisle. Probably the most crowded lanes in the store. Taking a deep breath, he made his way through the people and grabbed as many heart shaped things he could find, not taking much time to look at anything so he could get out. Of course, after he payed for everything. It was a bit expensive, but with nothing but nods and a forced smile, he was out within five mins

Once you got home, there was no time for you to do anything before Michael greeted you at the door, completely shocking you with his... attire. No mask, just... normal Michael. The candy was spayed out on the countertop in a basket or two, thats how much candy he grabbed

Next was finally revealing his next part, actually going out with you. Anything you wanted to do or anywhere you wanted to go, it didn’t matter. Tonight was all about you, and he was going to be there the whole time to enjoy it with you

Freddy Krueger

His gift to you: Bourbon Chocolates and of course, some Lingerie!

Freddy, who was going to be his normal self anyways, decided to tone it back just a bit. This night was going to be for the both of you, and you sure as hell were gonna have a good night!

His vulgarness is cut back, and his more smooth talking nature is out to play. Still as handsy, but not being completely driven by sex. The kisses and holds are more frequent, and out to play as well

The night has turned into a two person party, at the hands of Freddy. He was going to do everything in his power to make you feel the best you’ve ever felt and to make sure that you were having the time of your life

And what better way to liven up your party than bourbon chocolates!

Freddy can handle his alcohol better than you ever will, even if you have a high tolerance. He takes this into consideration, of course. He knows how to get you hooked on just enough to make you putty in his hand. The bourbon chocolate alone obviously wouldn’t get you tipsy enough, but who said that there wasn’t going to be any shots accompanying them?

Oh yes, there will be more alcohol. Not a ridiculous amount to make it that hard on you in the morning, but like I said... just the right amount to get you a bit buzzed for him. That way, it’s easier to get you to slip into his other present

The Lingerie was going to be in action at least 70% of the night. He had shown it to you before, but refused to let you wear it until tonight. After getting you a bit buzzed, and feeling you up the entire night, it was time to bust out the lingerie and take this into the bedroom

So much for the lingerie, the lacing was pretty and silky but.. it got torn to pieces anyways

Bubba Sawyer & Thomas Hewitt

Their gifts to you: A wonderful, homemade, Texan dinner with some dancing!

Bubba never did anything for Valentine’s Day before you came around, so this was his time to show you just how much he loves and appreciates you!

You’d think he was already a very expressive lover, but he didn’t seem to think so. Bubba just has so much love pent up that needs to be released as soon as possible, so he will do everything he can to pull something off for you

He was never the one to really be in charge of something; that was Drayton’s job. It’s a lot for him to handle, but what drives him is you

The whole day before is spent prepping the dining room and making the dinner in general. Anyone, especially you, is shooed away by him if you attempt to intervene or pass through either the kitchen or dinning room

Once dinner is prepped and the dinning room is spiffy and spotless, it’s finally time for you to see what he’s done for you. Dinner set across from each other at the table, candles and various other decorations draped around the room, and Bubba in his finest attire

He’s a little nervous, well a lot actually, that you might not like it, so assure him how much you love him and how thankful you are for him

~~

Thomas is a bit different, due to living with family and all. Luda Mae most likely already fixed a big dinner for the day, like she does with most holidays, not matter how small! Tommy of course contributed to the prepping of dinner anyways, so it was like a small gift from him to you

His main plan, however, revolved around some alone time with you and him. Everywhere you would do, someone was in the house with you either in that room or in the next room. There just wasn’t too much privacy

Thomas fancy’s you in a dress, and absolutely swoon’s when try on the dress that he made for you that day. It was a short, fitting dress that he was working on for a while now. It was going to be just a gift for whenever, but he saved it seeing that Valentine’s Day was right around the corner

Thomas took this opportunity to take you out and under the stars with slow and sensual music quietly in the background. He was an absolute sucker for dancing with you. The size difference of your small body pressed against his, your small hands inside of his, swaying slowly in the moonlight was everything he could have ever wanted

Billy Loomis & Stu Macher

Their gifts to you: Movies? Of course, but with some extra spice!

With Billy, movies are only a small portion of the night, I promise. The rest of the day, however, is based on however you would like to spend it

Billy is a total pushover for buying you things when he see’s them. You’ve got only about 5 different bouquets of flowers, 60 different types of candies in various heart shaped boxes and god knows what else

It’s also date night for you both. Billy can come off as a bit headstrong, so this is the time he can loosen up for a bit with you, take you out to a semi-fancy restaurant and be a gentleman for you

He’ll pull out your chair, order for you, and make the night yours. After eating, if you’d just like to walk around town, window shop, or actually go into any stores, he’s there with you, arm wrapped around your waist the whole way

Once back home, presumably later in the day, Billy will set you on the couch with him, blankets, candy, drinks, and anything you could possibly need so you wouldn’t have to move. You’re favorite movie on, or a romcom you can both criticize

By the end of the night, his goal is for you to be curled up next to him, asleep in his arms

~~~

Stu, Stu, Stu. Whatever romantic would he do for you? A lot, actually

Over the top pickup lines, out-of-the-blue kisses all day, and an endless supply of candy. Like Billy, he’s an absolute pushover for buying you things that he see’s, no matter what it is

Stu, the prankster, throws a bit of a wrench into normal sweet and romantic plans for Valentines Day. After a whole day of showing you off and buying you practically anything you even glance at, it’s back at home for a... competition

Yes, a competition. “Who Can Guess How The Rom Com Will End Correctly?” or a variation of “Will They Get Angry and Then Get Back Together On Valentine’s Day?” The basis of this game is, if you correctly guess what happens next, then other person has to take a shot of various kitchen condiments (i.e. ketchup, mustard, ranch, relish, etc.), but if you get it wrong, you have to take a shot

Both of you are fairly good at guessing, being cliche romcoms, but the competitiveness is heating up! It could go on all night folks

Watch out though! Stu might try to sneak in a heated kiss after taking a shot of something sort of... unpleasant. But once you’ve both had enough of cliche ending and arguments from fake couple on TV, it’s pizza and a decent movie time!

Don’t forget about the stuffed animals either. Small ones, long ones, tall ones, and the almighty Giant Bear. The size difference that he see’s when you try to carry it makes him laugh like hell

Pinhead

His gift for you: A hellishly abundant array of roses and perhaps a new friend?

Pinhead understood the concept of Valentine's day, but didn't think he would have to contribute anything to it, until you brought it up. It wasn’t something that was too popular to him and the cenobites (I wonder why) but, was willing to give it a shot for your sake

He had absolutely no clue what to get you that would be appropriate. Something more grotesque was always on his mind, so finding something a bit softer and sweeter to give to you was going to be a challenge

Sticking to the basics of what he’s seen other people do before, and traditions that he knows, flowers seemed to be a real lady killer. Of course, these flowers were going to be above the normal expectations of flowers

He found flowers quite repulsive due to their smell, but adored seeing your face light up with his selection. He wasn’t sure what to get, so hoped that this would be good enough for you. He’s trying his best to get used to giving affection!

You’re greeted with an abundance of Black, Crimson, Gold, Lavender, and many that are a mix between peachy and white, yellow and orange, or blue’s and teals. They are mainly in giant bouquets, but are also spread out in a trail leading to his final gift...

He’s debated on this for a while now, and wanted to give you something to keep you company while he was gone. Of course, being Head of the Cenobites, he could pull some strings and get you something you would have never expected:

Your very own Chatterer Beast! It has been catered to follow, obey, and protect you at all costs. Like a high maintenance dog, but from Hell. Pinhead knew his chatterer beast and you took a fancy to each other, so why not get you one that could stay with you in the real world!

Hannibal

His gift for you: An extravagant dinner with a side of something expensive!

A real showoff, an over achiever, someone who goes all out for Valentine’s Day. That’s Hannibal, the man that can get you anything your heart desires and more!

The dinner, of course, is something that just comes with the Hannibal package. Dinner’s on a normal night are high quality, but on this night? The night of expressing his love for you? The dinner is going to be one for the books. All day is spent prepping and preparing

He’s not too picky about having you see what he is making or his plans, in fact he rather enjoys you in the kitchen while he cooks. But he would rather just have you with him than help him. This is his dinner for you, and he needs to put his soul into it!

Once dinner is ready, his finest maroon suit is put to the test alongside his dress he bought for you some time back. So what if it was a dinner with just the two of you? This night and dinner was going to be nothing but pampering and showing all of the love and affection he has towards you

Dinner, served along with some fine wine, of course, takes most of the night. You dare not get up for anything or reach out for anything, that’s what Hannibal is there for. He’s your personal waiter for tonight. Not only does he cater to your dining needs, he has something else up his sleeve for tonight

Hannibal wouldn’t be satisfied with his effort for you without buying you something just to show it. Something that you could flaunt everywhere you went. You are greeted with sets of earrings, rings, and necklaces of rare gemstones, some you’ve never even heard of? You’ve got some Jade earrings to accompany your opal neckpiece, as well as another set of grandidierite rings

Nothing says a night with Hannibal like a hosted dinner and some expensive pieces of history

#jason voorhees x reader #jason voorhees #friday the 13th #michael myers x reader #michael myers #halloween #freddy krueger x reader #freddy krueger #a nightmare on elm street #bubba sawyer x reader #bubba sawyer #texas chainsaw massacre #leatherface x reader #leatherface #thomas hewitt x reader #thomas hewitt #billy loomis x reader #billy loomis #stu macher x reader #stu macher #scream #pinhead x reader #pinhead #hellraiser #hannibal x reader #hannibal lecter #hannibal nbc #silence of the lambs #valentines #valentines day

[zigbaby-blog]

Broken Soul

Series: The Freshman

Pairing: Zig x MC

Author’s Note: I just wanna thank @zigzaggersfanclub for reblogging my previous fanfic! My activity showed ‘No Notes’ until you boosted my post 12hrs later. If it weren’t for you I probably wouldn’t have continued writing. Thank you so much. X

The skies darkened, streetlights coming on one after another, filling up the path that leads to the fountain. Vanny sat by her window, a lighted cigeratte slipped between her fingers - watching people stroll along the campus as the silence lingered in the air she breathed.

She waited for hours, cooped up in her little safe space, only to push open her bedroom door into an unlit hallway. The apartment was pitch black; so eerily quiet that she could hear the gentle wind sweep across her skin. Am I so easily forgotten? She asked herself, tears welling up her tired eyes as she tilted her head back to hold them in.

That same morning, they said they’d save her. She placed her last bit of hope on her closest friends who swore to get her out of her self-torture. Yet, it turned out to be a hasty promise they thought too simply. It’s never easy to fix a broken soul; just because she smiled doesn’t mean she’s not depressed anymore.

Am I building up my walls too high, or is it that nobody tried to tear it down at all?

She wasn’t gonna stay sober. Alcohol was the only thing that would take away her pain, although temporary. In no longer than an hour, she took to get ready just like she did for the past 3 weeks. Slipping on a cropped spaghetti top and a short skirt hugging tightly around her curves, she yearned for those wandering eyes that’d make her feel noticed.

She knew she’s an emotional wreck, but refused to allow her facade to give it away. Pulling out her phone, the shortcut on her home screen brought up a list of clubs near her location. As much as she enjoyed the attention; attracting looks from men who constantly hit her up knowing she’s alone, she dreaded having to deal with them. Hence, she never returns to a club she had been before; lest the harrassment.

———

Stepping into the all-new sleek and modern club, the environment differed from the rest. With a large illuminated dance floor set in the middle, most of the sofa seats were enclosed within tinted walls. The only place she could look at were the bar stools, where she noticed this place offered an extensive selection of the strongest liquor. Exactly what she needed.

“Graveyard,” Vanny called out to the bartender, before he raised an eyebrow at her. “Are you sure?”

“Never been so sure. Dozen,” she confidently replied, prepared to get herself wasted. The floor vibrated with the loud music, DJ spinning the latest EDM tracks, and viola; her drinks were ready. “Take it easy,” the bartender warned, “these aren’t to be messed with.”

Holding up her first shot glass filled with tequila, whiskey, vodka, rum and gin - she gulped it down without hesitation. It was so strong, sending her throat a slight burn. Her mouth warmed instantly as she picked up another. It wasn’t until half the tray was cleared when she felt her body lighter, euphoric.

All of a sudden, her mind buzzed with joy. The thumping beat of the bass weaved her into the crowd on the dance floor. Throwing her hands up, she swayed her hips sexily, following the tempo of the music. There was no fear nor tension as strangers brushed against each other, dancing like it was an addiction they couldn’t quit. It didn’t take long before a pair of hands slipped up her waist from the back, grinding her. She turned her head around to meet the eyes of a young, blonde hunk smiling - as he briefly pressed his hard-on up her bum.

“Excuse me,” Vanny snarled and scurried out of the pack.

She knew that man wasn’t gonna give it up, retreating to the bar where the last 6 shots of hers sat waiting. Taking in a deep breath, she chugged 3 shots down at once. It almost claimed her sanity as she fell back on the stool, slowly losing the strength on her limps.

“Damn. You’re one tough lady,” the hunk whispered into her ears, resting his hand on her side. “Wanna come into my cubicle? We’ll get all the privacy,” He winked, drifting his hand upwards as he jerked his chin to the tinted walls.

That’s it. That’s the last straw. She gathered all her might and stood up on her feet. Taking 2 more shots before she was certained she wouldn’t make it if she took the last. While her vision blurred and balance off, she staggered out the club as fast as she could.

———

Strolling to his car after a couple of drinks at his favourite dive bar, a familiar silhouette ahead caught his attention. Her red, wavy mid length hair reminded him of the girl he met this morning at the cafe. Is that her? Zig wondered.

All she felt was her universe spinning, as she stumbled left and right. Zig watched as the blonde hunk caught up behind her. “Playing hard to get, babe?” The man muttered, hands grabbing her exposed skin below her cropped top. Her body was close to shutting down, feeling groggy and seconds to blacking out after 11 shots of graveyard. She tried so hard to push away and break free from the man who was taking advantage of her vulnerability, but it was clear she couldn’t possibly succeed.

Realizing the situation, Zig dashed forward, closing the distance between them before he snapped. “Hey! What do you think you’re doing, bastard?”

“Mind your own business,” the man grumbled and glared.

She couldn’t make out who it was, but recognized the voice. Before she could call out to Zig, her body caved in and fell into the arms of the hunk - incapable of holding her own weight.

“Vanessa!” Zig shouted, immediately snatching her away from the other man’s embrace. “You can fucking try to touch her again and see what I’ll do to you,” he lashed out, his mind engulfed by rage.

Knowing they’re acquainted, the man left before troubles approached him.

With an intoxicated being slumped over his thighs, Zig shook and called her name but there wasn’t any response. She completely blacked out on a barista she just met the same morning.

Shit. I don’t even have a clue where you live, Van.

#zig #zigmund ortega #zig x mc #the freshman #playchoices #choices stories you play #fanfic #pixelberry #tf/ts/tj #zig fanfics

[be-more-heidi-hansen]

The Cliché Gods of Overused Teen Movie Tropes (Jeremy Heere X Reader)

Word count: 6k I’m so annoyed at myself

Warnings: not really any....cursing?? overuse of the word “incredulously”, I’m sure...is bad writing a warning?

(A/N): It’s finally here! I got really carried away so this one is really long, I’ll put the rest under the cut. Enjoy! Maybe like/reblog? I’d appreciate it a lot!

~

Jeremy was avoiding you, that much you were sure of. This morning he had walked right past you, not even acknowledging your wave. Then, in class with him, he didn't even glance your way when you whispered his name. What the hell was wrong with him? Why was he acting so weird? It hurt your feelings. You had been friends with Jeremy for years, Michael too, and had been harboring a crush on him for most of them. You asked Michael if he knew, but he was in the same boat. He had been ignored just as you had, and he was equally pissed. He hadn't even so much as spared either of you a glance all day long. That is, until lunch.

You and Michael had been walking to his car to head to 7/11 when Jeremy suddenly appeared next to you, looking overwhelmed. "Michael? (Y/N)?" you both looked up in surprise at finally being acknowledged, but were quick to turn around, ready to leave. "Oh my god, I'm so glad to see you!" You stopped, turning around incredulously. "Really? So you haven't been avoiding us all day?" Jeremy seemed confused. "What are you talking about? I haven't even seen you since-" he froze suddenly, looking deep in thought. There were a few moments of silence, and you looked to Michael confusedly before turning back to Jeremy, waving a hand in front of his face, but he just ignored it.

You would have been a little worried, had you not been so annoyed at him. It seemed like he was just looking past you, through you, and you had to double check that there was nobody behind you. Michael finally spoke up. "Jeremy? Why are you standing there all creepy and stuff?" he asked, and you nodded in agreement, wondering the same thing. You were totally, 100% ready to call Jeremy out on his shit. "Seriously, what's up with you? You've been shady ever since...since...." you trailed, off, realizing something. You had thought about it before, but saying it out loud made you finally piece it together. His squip.  "It worked, didn't it?" Michael realized just as you had. "Jeremy! That's amazing!" You exclaimed, bouncing on the balls of your feet. "We gotta test it, we gotta celebrate! We gotta- get stoned in my basement!" Michael exclaimed, and you nodded excitedly, looking from him to Jeremy.

The one reaction you hadn't expected was for Jeremy to stay stock still, frozen like a statue, and remain silent. It was like you weren't even there, hadn't even said anything. Your eyebrows drew together in confusion and slight worry. It remained silent, and you were about to ask him what the actual fuck his deal was, when Michael spoke. "Jeremy? Are you coming?" Michael asked, looking at Jeremy expectantly. Suddenly, Jeremy jolted, turning around and walking the other direction. He just left the two of you standing there, staring after him.

There was shocked silence between you and Michael. You were the one who broke it. "What the hell?" you asked, staring after him. Michael put his hand on your shoulder sympathetically, and you turned to him, sighing. You readjusted your bag before clearing your throat and trudging in the direction of the school, Michael's hand sliding from your shoulder. "I'm gonna.. go work on some homework." You excused lamely, and Michael sighed, nodding, before turning and walking back to his car.

~

It had been days since then, and you had hardly spoken to anyone except Michael, but even with him you had been unusually quiet. You hadn't raised your hand in class, hadn't told your mom about your day even once, and you hadn't even tried approaching Jeremy again. You decided to spend every waking moment outside of school in your room, playing video games into the early hours of the morning. It was unhealthy, but it kept your mind off of Jeremy and that stupid squip. You were becoming a shell of your former self, and as much as you hated it, there wasn't much you could do.

One night, you were playing Apocalypse of the Damned for the fourth time that week when Michael called you. "Hello?” you answered, placing the phone between your shoulder and ear. "Hey, I think we should talk." you sighed. "About what, Micah?" His response was immediate. "You know what. You've barely been talking to anyone, you've been shut in your room, whenever you're not at school, and your mom told me you haven't eaten much." your jaw dropped as you scoffed disbelievingly. "Dude, you talked to my mom? Low blow, Micah." you could hear him huff into the receiver. "I was worried about you!" He defended. "There's nothing to worry about! I'm fine!" you exclaimed. It was silent until Michael spoke again with a tone of finality. "I'm coming over." then he hung up.

So you waited. Five minutes had passed when you heard something tap against your window. You opened it to see Michael waving at you from your front lawn. You sighed before sneaking downstairs and opening the door quietly. Michael quickly and silently walked up to your room, and he arrived there before you did. When you reached your door and walked inside, Michael was sat on your bed, arms open and inviting. "Get over here, dork." he muttered, and you sniffled, a wave of emotion coming over you as you crawled into his arms. He wrapped them around you, one hand running up and down your back as he shushed your sobs.

"What's wrong with us? Aren't we enough for him?" you croaked, and Michael only squeezed you tighter, knowing you were talking about Jeremy. "I know. Shh, I know. It'll be okay, we'll fix this." he soothed, and you realized suddenly just how tired you were. So that's how you fell asleep. Crying in the arms of your best friend over your other best friend and crush. What a night.

~

It was Halloween eve, and you were going to Jake Dillinger's Halloween party. Michael had insisted you come with him to confront Jeremy. Not that it had taken much persuasion on his end. You wanted to slap some sense into the guy, personally, but telling him what you and Michael had found out was just as good. As a last-minute costume, you had decided to dress up as a witch, pulling on a black dress that went below your knees and a witch hat you had in the attic. You had come inside, uninvited, and were thankful that nobody noticed. Most of them were either drunk or high or something else, and you almost gagged at the strong smell of liquor with an underlying scent of sweat. Michael suggested you both hang out on the sidelines and look for Jeremy. You just nodded, it being too loud to speak, and grabbed a slice of pizza, pulling him to the corner.

It was thirty minutes later and neither you or Michael had spotted Jeremy. You had long since finished your pizza, and were starting to get bored. The party around you was raging, people screaming and dancing to the music. A girl puked not ten feet away from you, and you cringed at the smell that clashed with the thick stench of weed. Suddenly, Michael yelled your name over the loud music. "I'm gonna go to the bathroom, I'll be right back." You just nodded, watching him walk through the crowd of loud, sweaty teenagers.

It was ten minutes later when you realized Michael had been in the bathroom for a while. You started walking towards the stairs, bumping into people here and there. When you reached the bathroom, it was slightly open. You walked in and saw Michael wasn't there, and you started to worry. Had he been caught by Jake? Neither of you were even supposed to be there. You began to panic as you plopped yourself on the edge of the tub. A hand landed on your shoulder and you screamed, whipping around to find Michael sitting in the tub. "Michael? Oh my god, you dick! You scared me!" you exclaimed. He just laughed and shrugged. "It's really loud out there."

You rolled your eyes before nodding in agreement. "You have a point," you muttered. "Now, scooch." he chuckled before scooting over, giving you what very little space was left to sit in. You squeezed yourself into the tub, sighing when you finally got situated. You both sat there in comfortable silence when the door opened. You couldn't see who it was, your sight of the door obscured by the shower curtain. When they sat down on the edge of the tub, you realized it was Jeremy. He hadn't noticed either of you yet, and was taking deep breaths. You looked at Michael, as if to ask, 'should I?' and he nodded excitedly, grinning wide.

You reached up and latched your hand on Jeremy's shoulder just as Michael had done to you. He screamed and jumped from the edge of the tub, watching as you and Michael pulled yourselves out of the tub. "Sup." "Hey," You and Michael greeted. Jeremy looked surprised. "Michael? (Y/N)? I didn't know you were invited to this party." You scoffed. "We weren't. Which is why we're wearing...." You paused for dramatic effect. "These clever disguises!" Jeremy just stared at the both of you, and Michael piped up. "You're speechless. Squip got your tongue?" Jeremy looked awkward. "It's....off." He muttered. "That would explain why you're talking to us." A beat. "I've been thinking about this moment. What would I say to you? I had this really pissed off monologue, an epic journey through twelve years of friendship...." he trailed off. Jeremy was just looking at the two of you, relieved. "What?" Michael asked. "It's really good to see you two." Jeremy said.

Apparently, the fuckin' cliche gods of overused teen movie tropes decided to look down upon you, and your stomach fluttered with butterflies. You scoffed. "It won't be. Once you hear what we found out." you said. Jeremy looked at you. "Found out?" he asked, looking between you and Michael. Michael nodded. "About..." he trailed off, tapping his head. Jeremy's face becomes one of understanding. "How? There's nothing on the internet-" Which is weird, right?" Michael interrupts. "I mean, what's not on the internet? So I started asking around. Finally, this guy I play Warcraft with... Told me how his brother went from a straight D student to a freshman at Harvard. You know where he is now?" Michael asked. "Really happy and successful?" Jeremy said hopefully. You shook your head. "He's in a mental hospital. Totally lost it." You said, and Jeremy frowned.

"I don't see what this has to do with..." he trailed off, and Michael huffed disbelievingly. "Think, man! We're talking an insanely powerful super-computer. You really think it's primary function is to get you laid?" Michael asked, looking incredulous. "Who made them? How did they end up in a high school? In New Jersey? Of all possible applications for such a mind-blowingly advanced technology, you ever wonder what it's doing inside you?" He finished. Jeremy stood in stunned silence for a moment.

"And I thought Chloe was jealous..." he muttered. You huffed incredulously. "You absolute dick! We're honestly asking!" Jeremy scoffed. "Really? Because I think you're pissed I have one and you don't!" you grit your teeth. Michael spoke before you could. "Come on-" "Maybe I got lucky, is that so weird? With my history, I'd say the universe owed me one. And I don't know about your friend's brother's whatever, but if you're telling me his SQUIP made him crazy-" "His SQUIP didn't make him crazy." Michael interrupted. Jeremy paused. "Oh. Well... There you go." Finally, you got a word in. "He went crazy trying to get it out."

A beat of silence. Then Jeremy spoke. "Then I've got nothing to worry about. Why would I want that?" He asked, heading for the door. But you and Michael stand in his way. "Move it." he orders, and you narrow your eyes. "Or you'll what?" Jeremy scoffs. "Get out of my way. Losers." Michael steps aside, pulling you with him. Your stomach churns at the venom in his tone, but instead of grief, you just feel angry. You rip your arm from Michael's, blinded by rage as you storm out of the bathroom, slamming the door behind you. You bumped into Jenna Rolan as you passed. "Fucking asshole..." you mutter, walking out. You don't even realize you've walked home until you almost walk head-first into your front door. You went to your room and fell asleep almost as soon as your head hit the pillow, drained emotionally from the night's events.

The next day you slept incredibly late. You decided not to think about the party, putting that emotional shit off until later. It was hours later, after your parents had already gone to bed, that you feel a pit of horrible guilt in your stomach when you remember that you left Michael alone, in a bathroom at a party he wasn't even invited to. You were such a bad friend. He probably hated you, and you couldn't blame him. He was even closer to Jeremy than you were, but you left him to grieve by himself. Quickly, you pulled out your phone from your pocket, going to Michael's contact and texting frantically, trying to make amends.

(y/n): shit Michael i'm so sorry

(y/n): i just got really mad and i wasn't even thinking

(y/n): i shouldn't have left u alone. i'm an asshole.

(y/n): wanna come over and watch hercules?

All the messages were written and sent in the span of 2 minutes, and you waited anxiously for a response. If Michael was stayed upset at you, which he was definitely justified in, then you would be alone. Jeremy and Michael were your only real friends. Sure, you talked to Christine on occasion, but that was about it. You sat staring at your phone, hoping for an answer. You pounced on it when it vibrated.

Michael Smell: you got popcorn?

You smiled.

(y/n): you know it

Michael Smell: i'll be there in 5

And so with that, you snuck downstairs to select Hercules on Netflix, putting some popcorn in the microwave. While it popped, you got a twitter notification from Jenna Rolan and Brooke. You clicked on it, almost dropping your phone in shock as you read it.

Jenna's on a Rolan tweeted:

OMG! Rich set a fire and he burned down Jake's house!

"Holy shit," you muttered.

Brooke Lohst tweeted:

Rich is flecked!

Your brows furrowed in confusion before reading Brooke's reply to her own tweet.

Brooke Lohst tweeted:

No, i meant 'fucked'. Did i say 'flecked'? Sorry, guys, it's just my auto correct.

A small huff of amusement escaped you, and you were about to read the replies to Jenna's tweet when the popcorn dinged and there was a knock at the door. You pulled the popcorn out first, then ran to open the door. Before Michael could get a word in, you started talking. "I'm really sorry. Have you been crying? Fuck, I'm really sorry. Come in, we have to be quiet, though, because my mom's asleep-" Michael cut you off with a small huff of laughter. "(Y/N), it's okay. I'm okay. I guess. I kind of had a panic attack, but that's more on Jeremy than you." you smiled. Michael held up a small baggie. "I brought weed." you laughed quietly. "Let's get stoned in my basement." you suggested, pulling Michael inside and grabbing Hercules, the popcorn, and your phone before heading down to the basement.

You remembered to stuff a damp dowel under the door so the smell wouldn't spread as much. Your mom never came down here anyway, so as long as the rest of the house didn't smell like weed, it was likely she would never find out. You put the disc in the DVD player and turned to Michael. "Hey, did you hear about Rich? He burned down Jake's house. They're both in the hospital, 'cause Jake broke his legs trying to escape." you showed him your phone. "Holy shit." He muttered, brows furrowed. "I know, right? Anyways, let's get high and watch Disney movies?" He nodded, and you pressed play.

~

The next time you saw Jeremy in person was at school, but you avoided him like the plague. Whatever that SQUIP did to him, you didn't like it. Or him, really, at the moment. But could anyone blame you? He had abandoned his only real friends. You had gone to visit Rich in the hospital once since the fire. He was in a fully body cast, and you could see a few burn scars starting to form on the exposed skin of his neck. He was kind of awkward about seeing you, considering you never really talked, but you felt bad. You had an inkling things weren't all sunshine and rainbows back home.

"You're (Y/N), right? I see you around with Jeremy, or at least I used to. And that antisocial headphones kid. Is he your boyfriend? 'Cause..." He asked, with a slight lisp you had never heard from him before. You laughed. "Michael Mell? My boyfriend? God, no way. He's just a good friend. We've been friends since we were, like, four." Rich looked almost relieved. "If you're into him, though, go for it. He's definitely not straight." he nodded, and the silence got awkward quickly. "I think I'm gonna go." You said, pointing towards the door. "Uh, get well soon?" you said, before walking out.

The next time you actually talked to Jeremy was the night of the school play. You had gone with Michael, who informed you quickly of his plan. He had somehow found out how to deactivate the squip, and you were relieved. He showed you the big bottle of Mountain Dew Red, and you made sure to keep it close to you. You both settled into your seats, waiting for the show to start.

Christine came out first to introduce the show. "Welcome, everybody. Thank you so much for coming to our production of 'A Midsummer Nightmare About Zombies'. It's been a rough week for all of us at Middleborough. That's why this play is so important - to bring this school together! To show you something special! I know that if Rich were here, instead of at the intensive care unit at Beth Israel, he'd say: 'Go out and show everyone the relevant power of live theatre!'" there was a quiet cough from offstage, and a voice spoke quietly, as if reminding Christine. "Costumes." Mr. Reyes said. "Oh... And thanks to Hobby Lobby for the costumes."

You and Michael watched the play. It's not so bad at first, you suppose. At least, for a high school production. Then the play gets oddly good. Like, really good. Everyone onstage is suddenly perfectly in character. Chloe actually seemed to know her lines. Something isn't right. You turn to Michael, whispering to him. "Isn't this, like, way too good for a high school play?" he nods. "I was about to say the same thing." he muttered, clutching tighter.

From backstage you could hear a faint shout. "Michael! Call: Michael!" and a scream. You looked at Michael to ask him if he had heard it, but he was already standing, pulling you backstage with him. Once you had successfully snuck backstage, Jeremy was flung at your feet by an invisible force. "Michael makes an entrance!" Michael sings, and you laugh. "I'm here too!" you say, doing jazz hands. Jeremy looks up at the both of you like he's never been more relieved. "Michael! (Y/N)!"

"We were in the audience, thinking, 'this is really good for a school play'. Then we're like, 'this is way too good for a school play'. They've all been squipped, right?" you asked. Jeremy seemed more surprised than anything. "You came to see me in the play?" you smiled. "Even brought our own refreshments." you said, gesturing to Michael, who held up the 2-liter bottle of Mountain Dew Red. Jeremy's eyes widen. "Is that-" "Mountain Dew Red. Told you I did my research." Michael said smugly.

"That's amazing! Give it to me!" Jeremy demanded, hands outreached and grabby like a toddler. "Okay. Wait. No." Michael said, holding up a finger. "But I need it!" Jeremy said incredulously. "And we need an apology. I think that's in order." you nodded in agreement. "I mean, you treat us like we don't exist for months, blow us off when we try to help you-" "Fine! I'm-" Jeremy seemed to choke on his words, hands clasped over his throat as he looks at an empty spot on the floor in indignant shock.

Jeremy tries again. "Saaaa- Srrr-" "Seriously, Jer? Is it that hard to say sorry?"  you ask, and Jeremy seems to struggle saying his response. "Yyyyyyes! C'mon, guys, this is important!" "Well, this is important to us!" Michael exclaims, and you nod. "It's a word!" Jeremy exclaims, annoyed. "It's a gesture! Gestures matter!" you exclaims. Jeremy jolts and suddenly looks angry, fists raising. You step back as he lunges towards Michael and begins to....kung-fu fight him? They begin to argue, and you stay frozen in the corner.

"This is so you! You love to feel superior, just because you listen to music on vinyl and eat eel in your sushi and don't care about being popular!" Michael dodges him. "Of course I care! I just know it's never gonna happen!" Jeremy swings for Michael again. "So you resent me because I wouldn't give up like you did?" "No, I don't resent you! I'm jealous you try!" Jeremy seems to get angrier as Michael dodges him again. "Well I'm jealous you don't!" Jeremy pins Michael to the wall, and they both scream. "Then why are you hitting me?" Michael asks, and Jeremy grunts. "I'm not- trying to!" "Well, don't try harder!" Michael exclaims, and Jeremy seems like he's in pain. "It's - not - me! It's - my - SQUIP!" he screams, managing to throw himself off of Michael. "It's taking over my body! I need your help! I'm sorry!"

Finally you feel as if you can move again, lunging towards Jeremy to help Michael hold him down and drink the Mountain Dew Red, but the scrawny boy you know (and love maybe shut up) somehow puts up one hell of a fight, flailing like a boy possessed. You look around for help when you see Jake Dillinger walk in on crutches. Michael addresses him quickly. "Jake! This is gonna sound weird, but if we hold down Jeremy, can you make him drink this Mountain Dew Red?" you tossed him the 2-liter. Surprisingly, Jake didn't ask any questions. "Actually, that doesn't sound weird at all." your eyebrows rose in surprise. You had kind of expected more of a reaction than that. Jake jolted suddenly, and you watched in horror as he turned the bottle over, draining it onto the floor. Then he started to....sing?? This isn't The Sound of Music, Jake.

"I was already pretty boss before. Now I'm totally boss and then some more! I'm livin' the upgrade, hey, hey! Livin' the upgrade, hey, hey!" You just looked at him in confusion for a moment before he started speaking again, y'know, like a normal person. "Plus, check this out." He throws his crutches down, still smiling. "It healed your legs?" Jeremy asked, surprised. "No. But I can't feel the pain. It's awesome." You just stare at him in horror. "Holy shit," you mutter. Then Jake starts to sing again. "Livin' the upgrade, hey, hey! God, I love me!" well, at least he had self-confidence while standing on two broken fucking legs.

Brooke and Chloe enter, holding hands and singing creepily, like a sinister lullaby. "La la la la la, la la la la la, la la la la la." Brooke addressed Jeremy. "I just want you to know, I'm not mad you broke my heart and slept with my best friend." now Chloe turned to Jeremy, too. "And I'm not mad you dated my best friend and wouldn't sleep with me." Brooke turned to Chloe, surprised. "He didn't sleep with you?" she asked. "No!" Chloe exclaimed. "He didn't sleep with me!" Brooke said. "No!" said Chloe incredulously, and you almost rolled your eyes. This is a matter of life and death, probably, so they shouldn't be acting like valley girls. Even when squipped, they were annoying.

The two spoke in tandem. "Oh my god, why was I so jealous of you? You were jealous of me? That's the nicest thing you've ever said to me! Sisters forever! JINX!" you really wanted to slap these girls. Jeremy interrupted your thoughts by whispering. "Guys...The bottle. There's a few drops left." Michael looked at you, then to Jeremy incredulously. "How are we supposed to get past them?" Jeremy smiled slightly. "Apocalypse of the Damned. Level Nine-" "The Cafetorium." You, Jeremy, and Michael spoke at once. You all had been playing that game together ever since Jeremy had bought it. He had called you, exclaiming, "I got it! I got it!" and you both knew what he meant, rushing over immediately. "Got it." you and Michael spoke together.

You both began to perform video game-style stealth moves to navigate past the squip-zombies and to the bottle. You briefly caught a glimpse of Michael ducking underneath Jakes legs and crawling through. You spoke with Michael and Jeremy in unison. "Find the bad guy, push 'em aside, then move on forward with your friend at your side. It's a three-player game, so when they make an attack, you know you'll have each other, gonna have your back. Than you stay on track, and-" Brooke lunged for you. 'AH! - Remain on course! And if they give you a smack, you-" You quickly dodged Chloe who moved to grab you. "GAH! -You use your force! And if you leave each other behind, it's lame, 'cause it's an effed up world, but it's a three-player game, hey!"

Michael grabbed the bottle with an exclamation of, "Got it!" and you ran to join him when Jenna Rolan appeared. The final boss. "I know what you're doing. I know what everyone's doing! ALL THE TIME!!!" you watched in horror as all the squip-zombies spoke together. "I just feel so connected to you guys right now!" Michael seemed to make a last-second decision. "Jeremy! Catch!" and he threw the bottle to Jeremy, just as the zombies descended upon you both. You could hear Jeremy's shout of your names as they covered you. Suddenly, the cast parts to reveal Christine. She looks, admittedly, great, radiant, even. And you understand with a pang of sadness why Jeremy likes her so much. She's talented and beautiful, charismatic and goofy.

"Jeremy?" She says, and Jeremy seems surprised. "...Christine?" he asks, and Christine smiles brightly, looking exhilarated. "Did you see me out there? The audience loves me!" Jeremy seems to hesitate. "I....That's great! I mean, of course they did." "I'm so glad I found you here. I wanted to apologize." Jeremy frowns a little, confused. "You.....Why?" Christine scoffs a little. "Because, silly. You were right. About how it feels. I...feel....amazing." Jeremy looks at her in disbelief. "No..."

Christine starts to sing, which you're starting to get a little tired of. We get it, you're theater kids. "I hate play rehearsal, so says my voice that comes from within. I am perfect sans rehearsal, because I don't need to practice to win." You glance at Jeremy through the squip-zombies and see he looks horrified. "I feel so....brave. And...safe. And, Jeremy, I was so scared to say this before, but...I love you, Jeremy." Your heart clenches. "Don't you have something to say to me?" Christine asks expectantly. Jeremy seems to have a conversation in his head before looking at Christine. He holds out the bottle of Mountain Dew Red. "Drink this." Christine drinks the last few drops and Jeremy looks at her expectantly. "How do you feel?" He asks.

Christine's head snaps down like a computer shutting off. You look at her in confusion while Jeremy calls her name once more. Suddenly, her head snaps back up and she, along with the rest of the squip-zombies, emits an ear-splitting screech, before they all - including Jeremy - collapse.

~

After that fiasco, you and Michael head to the hospital to visit Jeremy again. It was a silent drive until Michael turned to glance at you, then back to the road before speaking. "What are you going to say to him?" he asks, and you glance back at him before shrugging. "I dunno. Why do you ask?" Michael shakes his head. "(Y/N), I think you should tell him how you feel. He deserves to know." He said, and you went pink. "He likes Christine. I don't see the point in telling him if it's just gonna make things weird." you replied, turning to face the window. Michael was silent for a moment. "I still think you should get if off your chest. It'll make you feel better." you don't reply as he parks in the lot of Beth Israel.

You let Michael do the talking when you reach the receptionists desk, and stay silent during the walk to Jeremy's room. You can hear Rich talking. "Ask your buddies. Anti-social headphones kid and that other geek kid? They've been by like, a ton, by the way. What, are you dating them? No judgement. Just curious. Totally bi now." You chuckle as you and Michael walk in. "I'm sure someone will be lucky to have you, Rich." you say, and Rich looks surprised. "You think?" he asks, and before you can answer, Michael pulls the hospital curtain separating Rich and Jeremy shut.

"What happened? All I remember is that noise, and..." Jeremy trails off, looking between you and Michael. "Oh, man, it was genius!" Michael exclaims. "They were communicating with each other - they were linked! Which means... when you consider the kind of high-frequency sonic disturbance needed to wipe a system that powerful-" "Michael. My head still hurts." Jeremy interrupts, and you laugh a little. Jeremy looks at you and smiles. "Right, ah... Turns out you didn't have to destroy every squip. Just one. And the rest..." Michael mimes an explosion. "Boom boom boom." Jeremy takes a moment to absorb all this information. "I don't get it. After everything I did... You guys were still there for me. Why?"

Michael smiles. "We can't take all the credit. Your dad can be shockingly persuasive." you and Jeremy both have confused looks on your faces. What did Jeremy's dad have to do with anything? "My dad?" Jeremy asks, and, speak of the devil, he walks right in through the door. For the first time in a long time, you see him wearing real pants, and your eyebrows raise in surprise. "Jeremy, are you okay?" his dad asks. "Actually, I'm great-" "I'm glad. Because you're grounded. You're going to see some serious changes, young man, starting-" Jeremy's dad notices the grin on his son's face. "What?"

"Dad.....you're...wearing...." he trails off. "Don't look so surprised. I'm your father. And I wear the pants around here! Now let's get down to business: Who's this person you like, and why did I have to hear about them from him?" Jeremy's dad motions to Michael, and you feel a twist in your gut as you realize they must be talking about Christine. "I'm gonna go, um, get a snack." Jeremy looks at your slightly pale face with concern as you hurry out of the room and down the hall to the vending machine. After a minute you see Jenna, Chloe, Brooke, and Jake enter the room, and decide you'll stay out for a bit longer, taking a seat on one of the chairs in the hall.

Christine walks in next, and you decide this is gonna take a while. You pull out your phone and start playing pointless games until they all exit, including Michael and Jeremy's dad. "You coming?" Michael asks, and you shake your head. "Nah. I'm gonna talk to him." Michael smiles at you and says, "I'll wait in the car for you." You nod and walk into the room. Jeremy smiles widely at you. "Hey, (Y/N)." he greets, and you smile back. "Hey, Jer." you take a seat next to his hospital bed. It's silent for a moment.

"Hey, I just wanna say I'm really sorry for being an asshole to you guys." Jeremy says, and you smile. "You were definitely an asshole," you chuckled. Jeremy winces, guilt apparent on his face. "But I get it. I guess." Jeremy looks back at you surprised, like he was expecting you to say you never wanted to see him again. "I really do, Jer. You just wanted to be popular, and I understand. This just really wasn't the way to do it." Jeremy nods. "I know."

There's a moment of silence and you decide to change the subject entirely. "Anyway, I think Rich likes Michael? I told him he should totally go for it." "Wait, you and Michael aren't, like, secretly dating?" Jeremy asks, shocked. You groan. "Oh my god, no! Why does everyone keep asking that! I like you, dumbass!" you slap your hand over your mouth as Jeremy's eyes widen, and you curse those shitty fuckin' cliche gods of overused teen movie tropes again for letting you say that dumb shit out loud. "Fuck," you mutter, grabbing your phone. "I'll- uh, I'll just go-" "Wait, no!" Jeremy grabs your arm as you pass his hospital bed.

"You mean it?" he asks, with what looked like hope in his eyes. "I... yeah. I'm sorry, I know you like Christine, I just-" "(Y/N), shut up for a second." Jeremy interrupts, and you freeze. He was gonna tell you that you're weird, wasn't he? How it was gross to even think he'd like a loser like you? Then you mentally kicked yourself for thinking that. This is Jeremy, not whoever he became when he had that shitty squip. Jeremy looked deep in your eyes, searching for something. "You really mean it?" now you just scoff at him, starting to get annoyed. "Yeah, Jer. Shit, do you want me to fuckin' spell it out for you? I L-I-K-E Y-O-" Jeremy doesn't let you continue your sarcastic remark, pulling you close. He squeezed his eyes shut tight and kissed you. Holy shit, he kissed you. And it was good. Jeremy kissed like he meant it, slotting his lips downward to take your lower lip between his own. Maybe those cliche gods weren't so bad if they were gonna use their powers for stuff like this. It only took you a second to get with the program and kiss back.

You were interrupted by a voice. "Uh, hi?" you pulled back and spun around, and were faced with Michael. Your cheeks burned. "Hi, Micah." You said awkwardly. It was silent for a moment while Michael looked back and forth between you two. "I just came in here to say hurry up, but now I'm just gonna say this: if you guys do gross couple shit, I'm gonna jump off a building, or something." He jokingly warned. You all laughed as Michael turned and left. An awkward silence fell over the two of you. "So.....do you want to... go out, maybe? I think it's pretty obvious I like you too." Jeremy said, and you laughed. "I'd love to." you laughed, leaning down to hug him.

Then something occurred to you, and you pulled back. "Wait, what about Christine? I thought you were, like, crazy about her?" Jeremy shrugged sheepishly before speaking. "I dunno, I guess I thought you could never like me, so I wanted to get over you. I thought if I dated Christine then I would stop thinking of you that way, and I kind of needed a squip to do that, 'cause I'm not exactly the ideal guy." you scoffed. "Whatever, Jeremiah Heere. You're nice, a good listener, you're really cute, and you're a nerd! I think you're pretty great how you are." Jeremy smiled wide, face a soft pink, and pulled you into another kiss.

Once you two broke apart to breathe, Jeremy rested his forehead against yours. "Thank you, (Y/N). I love you." you smiled wide, overcome with joy as you took Jeremy's hand. "I love you too, dork."

#bmc #be more chill #be more chill jeremy #be more chill michael #jeremy heere #michael mell #rich goranski #jake dillinger #christine canigula #pinkberry #jeremy here x reader #my garbage #this took so long #sorry for the wait #abby writes

[a-splash-of-stucky]

A Messed Up Place | Epilogue

Pairings: Bucky x Reader

Summary: A wedding and a surprise

Warnings: flooffy goodness :’)

“Professional” Notes: The last ever AMUP update is being posted on Bucky’s birthday — I feel like that’s appropriate, somehow. Also, this was supposed to be a short and sweet epilogue but whOOPS 4k words happened somehow. Self-discipline? Don’t know what that is, never heard of it. #noregrets

“Emotional” Notes: I’m sobbing, I’m screaming, I’m hysterical, I’m not ready for this gAAHHHH!!!!

I’m feeling like a bundle of raw emotions rn. A Messed Up Place has been a labour of love ever since October 12th, 2017, my 19th birthday and the day I posted the AMUP Prologue. Now, nearly 5 months later, it’s coming to its official end. Thank you to everyone who’s stuck with me throughout this journey — your reblogs, comments and reactions have truly meant the world to me. To share this story with you, to see all the love that has come out of it, to have had this story bring me closer to some of my faves…there are no words to describe how I’m feeling. Honestly. Thank you so much, all of you.

Also, I’m sorry I broke your hearts and made you cry — I hope it was worth it all in the end.

AMUP Masterlist

“My point is, I’ve known Tony for a long time,” says Rhodey. He pauses and cocks his head to the side, before barking out a short, dry laugh. “Actually, now that I think about it, it hasn’t been that long year-wise, but man, with the amount of sh—I mean…stuff he’s gotten himself into, it sure does feel a lot longer.”

As Rhodey takes a sip of his champagne, he catches Bucky’s gaze out of the corner of his eye and  gives an almost imperceptible quirk of his eyebrows. Bucky flashes him an easy smile and gives him a subtle thumbs-up, showing his thanks for the quick save.

Steph’s at the age where she just adores repeating basically every word that she hears. The last thing Bucky needs is for the word ‘shit’ to be added to her repertoire of favourites, alongside ‘laun-de-reee’, ‘no’ and ‘cat dick’.

Though, with a room full of adults in various stages of tipsiness, not adding a swear word to Steph’s vocabulary is proving easier said than done. There have been a few too many close-calls tonight. Why did Bucky ever think that letting Steph stay for the reception was a good idea? Her sleep schedule’s going to be fucked up for the next week.

Bucky pauses, registering his train of thought. God, he’s such a dad.

“I remember when Tony was an insufferable know-it-all,” Rhodey continues, his voice drawing Bucky back to the present. “Oh wait — he still is an insufferable know-it-all.”

That pulls a chuckle out of Bucky and causes a titter of laughter to ripple through the room. Tony gives his best man an affronted look.

“Yeah, but I guess back in the day, he was a hundred times worse,” Rhodey amends, once the audience has settled again. “I mean, c’mon! He was schooling all of his professors in MIT! Gave a lecture of his own, at one point — after hijacking the lectern in true Tony fashion, of course.”

“I’ve watched him as he lived the life of a CEO playboy. I’ve seen him learn what responsibility is. I’ve seen him at the lowest of his low points and the peak of his high points. And I thought I’d seen all the parts of him there ever was to see — until he met you, Pepper.”

The customary wave of ‘aww’s’ sweep through the room. Bucky watches as Pepper — in an uncustomary public display of affection — scoots her chair closer to Tony’s and rests her cheek on his shoulder. Pepper’s strawberry blonde hair has started to fall out of her bun, curled tendrils hanging loosely around her face. Her cheeks have a rosy glow to them that match the happy glimmer in her eyes. She looks relaxed and in love and more at peace than she’s ever been — just like her new husband.

“You bring out a whole different side of him, Pep,” Rhodey says, the fondness evident in his tone. “He’ll deny this to his grave, I know, but you make him soft at heart. You’re good for him and hopefully — he’ll be good to you. May the both of you live a long life, have a healthy marriage and please, for the love of god, don’t let any of your kids get their hands on Tony’s suits. To the both of you,” he declares, raising his champagne flute with a grin on his face. Amidst waves of laughter, Bucky catches the toast being echoed by the rest of the wedding guests.

Bucky pushes off from the wall he’s been leaning on and walks back to the centre of the dance floor. He takes the mic off Rhodey as their paths cross, murmuring a quiet ‘well done’ as they brush shoulders. That’s the last speech of what has been an eventful night, filled with tears (of the happy sort), lots of laughter and two separate occasions of Tony nearly setting Pepper’s dress on fire.

But besides those instances of near-catastrophe, the whole affair has been rather low-key and chilled. It’s clear that Pepper’s done most of the wedding planning. The entire event is being held in the back gardens of the compound. An enormous marquee has been set up, with fairy lights, lanterns and all manner of flowers strung from the ceiling. There’s a dance floor on one end and tables taking up the rest of the space. Everything is pastel coloured and tastefully decorated.

It’s nice. Really nice.

“So, that marks the end of all the speeches we have lined up for tonight,” Bucky says, addressing the assembled crowd. He’s the MC of the reception, tasked with the trying job of facilitating seamless transitions between the nights’ entertainment.

Bucky’s really glad that his work is almost done.

“I’d just like to say a quick thank you, on behalf of our newly married couple, to everyone that’s made this event what it was. And to Tony and Pepper — I’m sure you’re sick of hearing this, by this point, but congratulations,” Bucky says sincerely, flashing the two of them a warm smile. Pepper returns the gesture and Tony nods his head in acknowledgement.

Just then, Bucky hears the tap-tap-tap of patent-leather shoes darting across the floor. He beams when he catches sight of his daughter rushing towards him at full speed, arms outstretched, fine blonde hair bouncing on her shoulders and chocolate cake smeared on her chin.

Typical, he sighs internally. Well, at least there’s no chocolate on her white dress.

As Stephanie runs to his side, Bucky crouches down to welcome her with open arms. He hoists her up in one smooth motion, perching her on his waist. She enthusiastically wraps her arms around his neck and flashes him a toothy grin.

“Hello gorgeous,” Bucky murmurs, pressing a quick kiss to her forehead. Bucky spots you sitting beside Pepper and arches an eyebrow in your direction, before looking pointedly at Steph; a silent what’s she up to?

You shrug exaggeratedly, hands raised and palms facing outward. How the hell do I know?

“Daddy,” Steph whines, patting Bucky on the cheek to get his attention, “Wanna go dancing again.”

Bucky’s heart might just have melted a little. He ducks his head closer, “Almost done here, gorgeous, then we can go dancing again, okay?” he whispers, lips brushing the shell of Steph’s ear with each word. He smiles when she giggles and pushes his face away with her pudgy hands; his baby’s always had ticklish ears.

Steph leans back and puts her palm on his cheek, schooling her features into a more solemn expression. “Daddy, I haff something ‘portant to tell you,” she says seriously.

“Oh?” Bucky asks, arching an eyebrow in amusement. “Okay, but is there something you want to say to Tony and Pepper first, gorgeous?”

Stephanie seems to think about it for a minute, brows drawing together and lips pursing as if she’s sucked on a lemon. When it clicks, she claps her hands excitedly as an exuberant grin spreads across her face.

“Yeah!” she cries, making grabby hands for the mic, “I gotta say something!”

Bucky chuckles, holding the mic closer to her mouth. “Go ahead, sweetheart,” he says.

Steph twists around so that she’s beaming brightly at the crowd of expectant faces. As the one and only flower girl in attendance, over the course of the night, Steph seems to have won over the hearts of everyone present.

Who can blame them, really?

Bucky catches sight of you, sitting in between Wanda and Pepper, watching your daughter with a bemused smile on your face. You’ve got your chin propped up on one hand, a glass of water poised at your lips. You meet Bucky’s gaze and flash him a cheeky wink, just as you take a sip.

“Ev’body? I’m gonna be a biiiiiig sistah!” Steph announces proudly.

What?

It’s lucky that Bucky’s eyes are trained on you, because your reaction to Steph’s revelation is priceless. You choke on your mouthful of water and burst into a coughing fit. Wanda turns towards you to thump your back, whilst simultaneously shooting Bucky an is this for real? expression. Pepper and Tony have bolted upright, their haze of marital bliss disrupted by the commotion. Natasha and Sam look like they’ve gone into shock, and everyone else’s gaze is focused on Stephanie, who is seemingly unaware of what she’s just done.

A stunned hush descends over the room.

“Uhm,” Bucky mutters weakly. He clears his throat and shifts Stephanie on his hip. “Uhh—gorgeous…I think you had something else you wanted to say to Tony and Pepper, right?” he asks. “Remember? You were practicing it this morning?”

Stephanie cocks her head to the side and narrows her eyes. “Oh! Oh, con…gra…chu…lay…shuns?” she says slowly, carefully enunciating each syllable.

“Yeah,” Bucky agrees, his voice strained. “Yeah, um…why don’t you go sit back down with Aunty Nat, gorgeous, and let Daddy finish this off?” he suggests. Steph nods agreeably. Bucky sets her down and watches as she toddles off towards the head table, where Natasha is holding a hand out for her. Bucky runs his metal hand through his hair and takes a shaky breath.

“Okay, well…um,” he starts, “I—guess there’s not much more for me to say. Congratulations, Tony and Pepper. May you have a good marriage and all that.”

He’s pretty sure his words fall on deaf ears. As Bucky hands the mic back to the DJ hovering at the back of the dance floor, he spies you hurriedly weaving through the tables and slipping out of the marquee via one of the side flaps. Sam shoots Bucky a pointed look and jerks his head in your direction; a clear go after her, dude. Steph seems to be well-occupied by Natasha for the moment, and so, silently praying that his daughter isn’t going to start spouting out more secrets, Bucky quickly dashes after you.

When he steps outside, Bucky discovers that the twilight hour has come and gone. As his eyes adjust to the darkness, Bucky spins around in a circle, trying to find you. He spots you sitting on the concrete steps leading into the main building, your elbows on your knees, hands clasped in front of you and forehead pressed against your wrists. He sighs, slowly walking towards you, loosening his tie and undoing the top button of his crisp white shirt as he goes. Bucky plops himself down a couple of steps below you, body angled in your direction.

“She’s only three,” you say weakly, not bothering to lift your head up to acknowledge him. “What did I expect? Ugh, our daughter is terrible at keeping secrets.”

Bucky’s heart does an excited little flutter. “So she was serious?” he croaks out.

You drop your hands. Your mascara’s smudged underneath your eyes and most of your lipstick has rubbed off, this late in the day. But, you’ve still got a smile on your face and to Bucky, you look as beautiful as ever.

“I found out a few days ago,” you admit quietly, “Realised that my period was late and took a test.” You laugh softly, “Got the shock of my life when I saw it was positive.”

Bucky inhales sharply.

“I thought it’d be a nice to have Steph tell you the news,” you continue, eyes flicking up briefly to meet his. “I’ve been practicing it with her and—,” you break off with a groan, burying your face in your hands. “Fuck, why did I ever think that was a good idea? Now everyone knows that I’m pregnant and I wanted to tell you first in private before—and, and now—,”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Bucky interjects, pushing himself onto his knees and catching your wrists in his hands. He pulls them to his chest, ignoring your weak protests, leaving you unable to hide your face from him. When you tilt your chin upwards, Bucky sees the glimmer of unshed tears in your eyes. The watery smile on your lips tells him that they’re not tears of sadness, though. In this moment, Bucky feels like there’s a gurgling pressure behind his sternum, a bubbling spring of emotions itching to spew free.

“For real, princess?” he asks quietly, barely able to contain himself.

You laugh breathlessly, the corners of your eyes crinkling with joy. “Yeah, honey. Really.”

Bucky swallows, then leans in close until his forehead is resting against yours, until his nose brushes your cheek and your breath ghosts over his face. You slip a hand out of his grip and curl it around the back of his neck, fingers combing through his ponytail.

“Tell me again, sweetheart,” Bucky says, voice hoarse, thick with tears. With your palm pressed to his chest, he has no doubt that you can feel the mad thumping of his heart. “I need to hear you say it.”

Your hand on the back of his neck tightens its grip. “I’m pregnant,” you whisper.

Bucky lets out a half-sob, body surging forward to crash his lips against yours. Inside his chest, he feels the dam burst, allowing a tsunami wave of emotions to course through his system. The kiss is heated and sweet and meaningful, all that same time. His brain is spinning, his body is floating, his heart is soaring, his soul is singing. He’s overcome with feelings and he just—he can’t put any of them into words.

“Sweetheart,” he says breathlessly, brokenly. It’s the only word his brain can think of right now. Fuck—he has so many things to tell you. I can’t believe it, he wants to say. I’m terrified, maybe. I’m so fucking happy. I love you so much. “I—oh my god—,”

“I know,” you say fervently, meeting his lips for another urgent kiss, “I know.”

And perhaps, he just doesn’t need to say anything. Maybe you’ve heard all those unsaid words anyway. Maybe, after all this time, you just know.

“Again,” Bucky demands, one hand cupping the back of your head, the other arm encircling your waist. He darts in for another kiss — fuck he never wants to stop kissing you, ever — as he leans forward, forcing you to brace your elbows against the step above the one you’re sitting on. “Tell me again,” he begs, gently nipping your bottom lip as he pulls back to look at you.

He takes in your kiss-bitten lips, your darkened eyes and your messy hair. You curl your fingers into the lapels of his jacket, just as your lips curl into a private smile, for his eyes only. “I’m pregnant,” you repeat, your voice quiet, sincere.

Bucky drops down again, brushing his lips against yours. “I love you so much,” he says, in between kisses, “So fucking much, you know that?”.

“Love you too,” you reply, throwing your arms over his shoulders to hold him close.

Where words fail, actions speak.

Bucky pours every ounce of love surging through his body into every press of his lips, desperately hoping that each kiss is enough to telegraph the extent of his emotions. Words are not enough, actions are not enough — he wants you to know how he’s feeling so bad. His world is shaken by this news — for better, for worse, who knows?

The only certainty he’s holding onto right now is you.

Bucky blankets your body with his, moulding his body to yours and wishing he could do the same to your souls. He kisses you and tastes the salt of your tears, the mint on your tongue. He feels the hammering of your heart, hears your barely-audible sighs and greedily drinks in the exultant joy radiating out of every fibre of your being.

“Sweetheart,” Bucky breathes, cradling the back of your neck with his flesh hand and pulling your mouth closer, kissing your lips like you’re the oxygen that Bucky has been starving for. And maybe that is what you are, Bucky thinks desperately, a fleeting thought in his dizzy mind. Maybe you’ve been his oxygen all this while. Because it’d certainly felt like an agonisingly slow death, enduring all those months without you.

The two of you lose time like that, sprawled out on the steps, tangled in each others arms, rucking up your fancy clothes. You trade kisses and soft touches, murmured promises and meaningful stares. There’s a simmering heat in his belly that Bucky could turn into something more if he stoked the fire and gave it some attention, but for now — this is enough.

From somewhere on his left, someone clears their throat obnoxiously.

Bucky startles, quickly rolling off you as he reaches for the knife strapped to his left calf. When he sees who it is, he allows his posture to relax, although a hot rush of embarrassment does race through his veins.

“If we’d walked out a second later, I’m fairly certain we’d’ve stumbled across you two defiling our porch steps,” Tony remarks dryly.

Pepper gently elbows him in the side. “Tony!” she chastises, “Be nice.”

“Sorry, darling,” Tony says quickly. Bucky doesn’t miss the dopey look he shoots in her direction.

Seriously. Were you and Bucky ever this bad?

Bucky glances down at the gold ring welded onto his metal ring finger, casts his mind back to a warm summer’s day on the beach, sun on his face, sand between his toes, his arms around your waist and thinks no — the two of you were worse.

“Anyway,” Tony drawls, “I must say, your daughter sure does have a knack for dramatic timing.”

“He did learn from the best,” Pepper comments sarcastically, giving him the side-eye. Tony squawks in protest.

“Tony—Pepper, I’m so, so sorry,” you say quickly, sitting up and brushing you skirt back into place. “I—I really didn’t mean to steal your thunder, or anything like that, I swear, it was—,”

Pepper holds a hand up to silence you, a benevolent smile on her lips. “No harm done, Y/N,” she says reassuringly, “Really, we mean it. Yes, it was quite the shock, but—that just makes the night more memorable, no? We’re not mad, honestly.”

Tony snorts. “Speak for yourself,” he grumbles. “Sorry, sorry,” he adds hastily, when Pepper narrows her eyes into a murderous glare. Turning his focus back to the two of you, he clears his throat and says, “Congratulations, and all that good stuff, I suppose.”

Pepper rolls her eyes. “Yes, congratulations, you two,” she says emphatically. “And technically, it is past midnight, so you didn’t really steal our thunder.”

You make a sound that is a cross between a laugh and a groan. “I’m never going to forgive her for this,” you mutter darkly, “There goes her Stark tablet privileges for the week!”

“You say that, but you know she’ll just do something to make you forgive her in the next day,” Bucky points out. “Kid’s got us wrapped around her finger.”

With a resigned, full-bodied sigh, you slump against Bucky’s side. “It’s the thought that counts,” you say morosely.

“Well, I think we’ll leave you two to rejoice in peace,” Tony says decisively, pivoting on his heel and striding back to the party. “Just don’t traumatise any of our guests when they come out here!” he calls over his shoulder.

“Tony,” Pepper says, in a voice that is both fond and exasperated. To the two of you, she adds, “Seriously, no offence taken. I’ll make sure that Nat’s keeping an eye on Stephanie.”

“Thank you, Pepper,” Bucky says, as Pepper glides off towards her husband, her periwinkle blue wedding dress swishing with each step.

The two of you sit in silence, watching as Tony and Pepper slip back into the marquee, hand-in-hand. When the coast is clear, you peel yourself away from Bucky’s side and climb into his lap. Bucky chuckles in surprise, but plants his feet flat on the step below, allowing you to straddle his thighs.

You pay no attention to the fact that your skirt has bunched up in your lap, nor to the fact that someone from the reception could stumble out and see you two at any second. Bucky rests his hands on your waist and tips his head back to look at you, awestruck by the reality of the situation and the enormity of this new adventure.

“How the hell are we gonna manage with two little ones?” he asks quietly, thumbs rubbing gentle circles into your hipbones. “We can barely get by with just Steph!”

You throw your head back and laugh, drawing Bucky’s attention to the elegant column of your neck. Compelled, he leans forward and presses a kiss to the hollow of your throat, letting his lips linger for a while. You hum softly, looping your arms over his shoulders and scooting forward a little, so that your chest is pressed against his.

“I wouldn’t worry about it,” you murmur, “Things always seem to have a way of working out.”

When your lips finally meet, the kiss is tender — languid and lazy, like a sluggish breeze on a sweltering hot day. Bucky’s arms tighten around you, the fingers of his flesh hand tangling in your hair, his metal hand tracing patterns across the skin of your bare back. He swipes his tongue across your bottom lip and swallows your breathy sigh. You mouth opens so easily for him and before long, he finds you rolling your hips against his in slow, sinuous motions.

Bucky’s mouths a trail of wet kisses across your jaw and down your neck, coming to a stop above your pulse point. He feels your thrumming heartbeat against his lips, seemingly beating in time with his own heart.

“D’you think it’s okay if we ask Nat and Sam to take Steph for the night?” he asks, only half-joking, “Y’know. For celebration purposes.”

He feels the rumble of your laughter vibrate through his chest. “Bucky,” you giggle.

“What?”

“No,” you say. Bucky’s fairly certain he heard your eyes rolling, that time.

“Aw—c’mon, honey—,”

“No,” you repeat firmly. Before he can protest further, you cup Bucky’s jaw in your hands, tilting his head back until he meets your eyes.

Your hair is disheveled, falling around your face in messy strands. There’s a gleaming brightness in your eyes that makes the marquee lights behind you seem pale in comparison. You brush your thumb across Bucky’s stubbled jaw, an absentminded smile playing on your lips. “Not tonight, at least,” you tell him.

Bucky swallows, reaches his flesh hand up to catch your wrist. He turns his face to the side and presses his lips to the heel of your palm, registers your sharp intake of breath. “I’m gonna hold you to that promise,” he murmurs.

You huff out a laugh and lean forward, nosing a path down his cheek. Bucky turns his head and finds your mouth again, pressing his lips against yours in slow, unhurried movements.

“Tell me again,” Bucky whispers, as his flesh hand comes to rest on top of your belly.

You rest your hands on top of his, before swallowing audibly. You hold his gaze, your eyes bright with sudden tears, a pure and hopeful smile on your lips.

“I’m pregnant, sweetheart. We’re gonna have another baby.”

Bucky thinks he’ll never be as happy as he is right now, sitting on some concrete steps with you in his arms, stealing kisses from your lips whilst the sounds of laughter and upbeat music float across the gardens.

Bucky’s glad he stands corrected a few months later, on Steph’s fourth birthday, when he sees the look of delight on his baby’s face as she sets eyes on her unicorn-themed birthday cake. They’re surrounded by their super-family, a collection of opened presents and shredded wrapping paper littering the floor of the common room. Stephanie manages to get pink frosting all over her face, making Bucky laugh until his cheeks are sore. You try to keep the smile from spreading across your face, but it’s a futile effort when you have a daughter as sweet as Steph.

You have a hand resting protectively on top of your burgeoning belly, and the sight only serves to make Bucky’s heart swell a little more.

Bucky’s glad he stands corrected a few months after that, as he cradles his son in his arms, gently rocking him back and forth as he makes his way over to your side of the bed. You take him from Bucky, cooing softly as you stroke your knuckle over his chubby cheeks. Steph, perched on your other side, peers at the baby curiously, as if trying to decide what to make of her little brother. Warily, tentatively, she brushes her index finger over his pudgy fist, gasping in surprise when he wraps his little fingers around it and holds on tight.

“I think I could love him,” she whispers.

Bucky’s glad he stands corrected a few years down the line, as the two of you bring in the last of the boxes and set them on the kitchen counter. The house is a mess, the kids are wreaking their usual havoc and the last thing he wants to do is walk up a flight of stairs to check on them. Both of you are gross and sweaty, but Bucky loops his arms around you and pulls you close nonetheless, planting an enthusiastic kiss on your lips. Moving in has been stressful and exciting, to say the least, but Bucky is eager to start writing this new chapter in your lives. He can’t wait to fill these walls with memories and make this house a place to call home.

Unable to fight the grin spreading across his face, Bucky picks you up and swings you around in a circle. “Welcome home, sweetheart,” he breathes.

Bucky loses track of how many times he stands corrected, as the years go by. Day after day, he smiles until his cheeks hurt and laughs until his sides ache. The years are filled with birthdays and babies, missions and milestones, ups and downs. He watches his children go to school, grow up, get married, have lives — take on the world like they were made of gold dust and vibranium.

“What a life, huh sweetheart?” Bucky asks softly, as another chapter comes to its end.

Time has a funny way of slipping by in the blink of an eye, he’s noticed. Many things have changed over the years, but the one faithful, unshakeable constant he’s held onto is his love for you.

Bucky thinks of this as the two of you lie tangled up on the sofa, your body slotted between Bucky’s legs, your cheek pressed to his chest and his chin resting on top of your head.

“Yeah, honey. What a life,” you murmur, as you slip your fingers underneath the hem of his t-shirt, splaying them across the small of his back. “A crazy, wild, tumultuous, messy life.”

You pause to pull away from him, sitting up a little and craning your head back to look into his eyes. “But worth it all?” you ask.

Bucky grins, feels that joyous fluttering in his heart as he leans forward and presses a kiss to your lips. “Yeah, my gorgeous. It’s all been worth it.”

End A/N: Am I bawling my eyes out? You betcha :’)))

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky x you #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fluff #bucky fluff #bucky fanfiction #bucky fanfic #bucky imagi #my writing #a messed up place

[nikki-romero]

How to Play Boyfriend-Girlfriend [Eisuke Ichinomiya] ~ Chapter 1

Okay let’s get one thing straight here. I am not a very big fan of Eisuke. I think he’s a narcissistic loser who has to control everyone in order to feel superior. I also think he’s weak, sad and pitiful. No offense, Eisuke fans. I’m not judging you for liking him if you do. I’m writing this to show him with a girl who knows how to put him in his place. 

@kbtbb-soryu

“Mommy?” I was sitting in my bed, looking over some patient files, when my seven year old daughter timidly poked her head through my door.  

“What is it, honey?” I looked up at her with a gentle smile.

“I can’t sleep. Can I sleep with you?” She was clutching her favourite pillow to her chest.

“Sure. Come on.” I pulled back the covers for her and tucked her in next to me once she was in the bed. Soon, she was breathing peacefully beside me and I continued looking at my patient files.

My name is Ran Tyler. I’ve lived most of my life here in Japan, but I’m actually Canadian. I have a little brother and sister – had a sister. My younger sister, Lorelei, disappeared without a trace fifteen years ago in England. She was never found…

 It was the following morning. I had just finished doing my rounds at Tokyo Hospital, where I work as a surgeon. I was sitting in front of my computer, entering patient information into our database. My daughter, Lauren, was at school. Suddenly my work phone rang.

“Tyler,” I answered.

“Ran, it’s me,” Eisuke’s voice echoed in my ear. 

Eisuke Ichinomiya was the CEO of the Ichinomiya Group, a very successful company that owned hotels all over the country. He was also my best friend since childhood and Lauren’s father. Long story short, after having too much to drink at a party eight years ago we ended up in a compromising position, and nine months later Lauren was born. But Eisuke fell in love with her the minute he saw her. He’s a real jerk, but I don’t think she could have asked for a better father. He dotes on her like crazy.

“Eisuke, how many times do I have to tell you? Stop calling this number. You’re holding up the line,” I reprimanded him.

“You never answer your cell phone.”

“Because I’m busy. Now, what is it?” I asked impatiently. The only time I ever answered my cell phone was when the school called.

“I need you to come to the penthouse immediately,” he demanded.

“Come again?”

“You heard me. You have ten minutes.” You’d think after all this time, my best friend would know me better than that…

“Who do you think I am, your employee? Tell me what the hell you want over the phone, or I’m hanging up.”

“…You’re going to be my girlfriend,” he said after a pause. At first I wasn’t sure if I even heard him right.

“I’m gonna what now?”

“Are you deaf?”

“Why the hell do I have to do that?”

“I have my reasons. Take off work and come to the hotel. We need to get ready for the I.V.C. tonight.” Damn this narcissistic jackass. I was growing more annoyed by the minute.

“I’m hanging up.” I was about to do it too.

“Don’t ignore me, Ran.”

“Listen, I’m not one of your groupies, alright? I’m not putting up with your self-important attitude. And I never agreed to this in the first place.” I heard Eisuke sigh heavily over the phone.

“I have an important deal that needs to go through with Mr. Bucci, an Italian mafia boss, and his daughter, Carolina, is coming to Japan soon. However, she’s fallen madly in love with me at first sight.” 

That sentence pissed me off. I couldn’t stand his groupies or people who claimed to fall in love with him at first sight. It was a best friend thing I guess. Those women only saw his looks and his money. They didn’t know the first thing about him - things I could easily list off at the top of my head.

“Carolina, the sea lion?” I asked.

“Where did you hear that?”

“Lauren told me.” Lauren had met several of Eisuke’s clients before. She told me all about this Carolina person. “Tell me, why is it my problem?”

“Just get here.”

“You know my size, you can handle shopping yourself. I have lives to save.” And just like that I slammed the receiver down, ending the call. 

Sometimes I wonder why I even put up with him. He’s a complete narcissist. I might almost go as far as to say he’s a sociopath. He treats women – and people in general – with complete disrespect. I know how to deal with him by now, but still.

After work, I dropped Lauren off at my brother’s apartment and headed to the Tres Spades. The Tres Spades was the first legal casino and hotel in Japan. It was built five years ago. Eisuke owned it, with his younger adoptive sister being the co-owner. I was in a terrible mood by the time I got to the hotel. I grumpily got dressed and went to the I.V.C. with Eisuke. The party was lively as ever.

“Eisuke!”

“Eisuke’s here!” There was a crowd of women around us in no time.

“I already have a guest for tonight,” Eisuke said to the women coldly. 

Hearing this, they seemed to give up and backed away.

“Tch.” I clicked my tongue, annoyed. 

Eisuke led me towards a door in the back of the room. A man who looked like a bartender stood in front of the door.

“Rabbit,” he said to the bartender. 

I knew it. He just wanted to drag me to that damn black market auction. Fine, so I was a manager too. But it was just to see that no harm came to anyone since he would have gone ahead with creating these auction whether I liked it or not. The I.V.C. was really just a cover for a black market auction hosted at this hotel. 

“Good evening, Mr. Ichinomiya. What can I get you tonight?” the bartender asked.

“Bol’s Rhapsody.”

“Very well. This way please.” Bol’s Rhapsody was the name of a cocktail. It was also the password to the auction. The bartender opened the door. “Welcome to the Mad Hatter’s Tea Party.” 

Behind the door was a room with mirrors completely covering one wall. It was called the “Hall of Mirrors”. It led to the “Rabbit’s Hole”. Eisuke pushed against a pane of glass and it slid away, revealing an elevator.

“Why are you glaring at me?” Eisuke asked, finally noticing the dirty look I was giving him.

“So not in the mood.”

“Just get in.” Eisuke pulled me into the elevator. 

All the auction managers were sitting in private balcony seats when we got there. I sat next to Eisuke, leaning my cheek against my fist. This was a huge pain. The guys were talking about the merchandise. I honestly couldn’t care less about this.

“You seem to be in a rather bad mood.” Soryu leaned towards me. 

Soryu Oh was a Hong Kong mobster. He was also a good friend of ours. The three of us all went to school in England together.

“You think?” I asked sarcastically. 

It seemed like forever until it ended. It ended the same time as the I.V.C. The guests from both the party and the auction filled the lobby, making it unclear who went to which event. Eisuke and I also went out into the lobby where the hotel staff was lined up, greeting the party guests.

“Stay close to me,” Eisuke said.

“Mm.” I nodded, my arm linked through his. 

This feels… warm. As soon as he showed his face, tons of people gathered around him. A young man called out to him.

“It’s nice to see you again, as always, Mr. Ichinomiya.” The man who greeted him was Yuki Saionji, the grandson of the founder of Yotsuyoshi Heavy Industries.

“You too, Mr. Saionji,” Eisuke greeted him back.

“I don’t think I’ve had the honour of your guest’s acquaintance. Will you introduce me to this beautiful woman?”

“Oh, pardon me. This is my girlfriend,” Eisuke replied.

“Eisuke’s girlfriend?!” Everyone gasped at once as they heard him introduce me as his girlfriend. 

“I can’t believe this!” 

The moment of silence quickly turned into a huge commotion. The guests from the I.V.C. started to gossip among themselves.

“I don’t believe I’ve ever met one of your girlfriends, Mr. Ichinomiya,” Saionji said.

“Is that so? Well, I’m pleased to be able to introduce her to you.” 

 When Eisuke turned to me, he had a sweet smile on his face. That was his fake business smile; The smile that made me sick to my stomach.

“I’m Ran Tyler.” I ignored the unpleasant twisting of my stomach and bowed to the guests. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Doctor… Ran Tyler?” Saionji asked. I was surprised he knew me.

“That’s right.”

“I read an article about you in a medical magazine recently,” Saionji smiled kindly at me.

“Oh, that?” I muttered. 

I had forgotten about that. After performing a particularly difficult surgery, a medical magazine did an article on me and a fellow doctor as rising stars of the medical world. It didn’t really matter to me. All I cared about was to save as many lives as I possibly could.

“Let’s go, Ran.” Eisuke slipped an arm around my waist. I felt all eyes on me as we walked to the penthouse elevator.

  To be continued…

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#doctor #eisuke #ichinomiya #fan fiction #kbtbb #kissed by the baddest bidder #otome #voltage inc

[spiritsintertwined]

Yami Yugi/Atem: Info and Headcanons (mobile version)

Full name: Yami Yugi/Atem

Nicknames: Yami, Other Yugi, Other Me (“mou hitori no boku” by Yugi), Spirit, Pharaoh

Ethnicity: Egyptian (as Pharaoh Atem)

Actual/spirital age: 3000 (JP dub) or 5000 (EN dub) as a spirit

Biological age: 16 (main canon story), 18 (post canon)

Birthday: July 26th, accurate year unknown

Zodiac: Leo (western zodiac), easter zodiac unknown

Birthstone: Ruby

Height: 1.53 meter/5.02 ft

Weight: 42 kg

Likes: Ta'amiya (Tamiya, egyptian falafel)

Dislikes: Batarekh (Bottarga, cured fish roe)

Blood type: A. While outwardly calm, they have such high standards (perfectionists) that they tend to be balls of nerves on the inside. Type A’s are the most artistic of the blood groups. They can be shy, are conscientious, trustworthy, and sensitive. (Source: bellaonline.com) Type A (Best Traits: Earnest, sensible, reserved, patient, responsible, quiet, mature, loyal, calm, strict, reliable. Worst Traits: Fastidious, unsocial, stubborn, tense, perfectionist, skeptical) (Traits source: x)

Character Analysis chart

Narcissistic/self-absorbed/self-centered vs Altruistic: 2/5 altruistic Nonsensical/absurd vs Self-restrained: 2/5 self-restrained Greedy/Obsessed vs Unselfish/unavaricious/indifferent: 1/5 unselfish

Fire Types are all about passion. When they want something, they go for it all-out. Unfortunately, sometimes they tend to burn themselves out as well by pressing TOO hard. They may be great at getting things done, but it’s gonna be on their schedule and no one else’s.

Background story

Yu-Gi-Oh season 0, the beginning

The spirit, having no memories of his own, goes about as “Another Yugi”. Dangerous and unstable, he has no problem punishing evildoers with his Shadow Games and even seems to enjoy doing so at first. It may be possible some of the criminals have even died from Yami Yugi’s Shadow Games. In his unstable state, his behaviour seems childish early on, not feeling guilt or thinking of the consequences of his Shadow Games at first. The more time the spirit spends with Yugi, the calmer, kinder and more serious he becomes, until he stops with Shadow Games entirely.

Yu-Gi-Oh season Duel Monsters

An ancient spirit trapped inside the Millennium Puzzle who has forgotten almost everything, including his name. All that is left his rich, dark knowledge of games and puzzles. Extremely skilled in any kind of game, he is able to learn about new ones at a fast rate, as well as the technology involved in said games. When Yugi is in danger, the spirit possesses his host, taking over the body to help deal with the threat.

Often referred to as Yami Yugi, his assertive, fierce and commanding personality is a stark contrast to his host’s, giving off the aura of a leader. It seems he can be quite oblivious about romantic advances unless they are blatantly obvious. Despite his serious demeanor, he doesn’t shy away from jokes, even friendly teasing Yugi and the others at times. However, as the name Yami Yugi (Dark Yugi) suggests, he carries darkness in his heart. He can be blunt and selfish, early on even downright cruel and unforgiving, needing to be taught kindness and compassion from Yugi. While he has a high self-esteem, this can falter, showing vulnerability underneath.

The more he remembers about his past, the more he breaks away from the “yugi alter ego”, forming his own identity once more…

———-———-———-———-———-———-———-———-———-—–

Reblogged headcanons can be found in the #headcanon and #yami is leo (zodiac) tags

Preference headcanons

Yami Yugi is pansexual.

He shares Yugi’s love for cats.

His favorite color is purple. In addition he appreciates warm colors such as red.

He would never wear a mummy costume during Halloween, but doesn’t have problems with others doing it.

Yami Yugi has different views on certain aspects of society, some being quite controversial by modern standards. Polygamy, one thing that is considered controversial, is something he has considered at times. Atem is definitely into polygamy. (This headcanon only applies when both RPers agree).

In postcanon, Yami embraces both past and future by taking on both names. On official documents such as birth certificate and his passport he uses his official name Atem. “Yami” remains the go-to nickname, though “Other Me” and “Pharaoh” are still sometimes used. With a body of his own people are less likely to call him “Yugi” when he is near his partner.

Physical headcanons

Yami likes, even really needs, physical contact. After thousands of years as an intangible spirit, he wants to “feel” again. However, he does not initiate contact until he knows the other person is comfortable with it. He’s also not open about this particular need as he does not want to embarass himself or others.

In RPs starting early in the timeline, such as season 0 related content, Yami will have his lighter season 0 voice (VA: Megumi Ogata). Over time his voice deepens as his host ages, though the changes are far more drastic and noticable than with Yugi. Later in the timeline he has the DM dub voice (VA: Dan Green)

When he has a body of his own, he jogs every morning and does several other workouts to stay in shape. Because cold winters make him unable to work out, others tease him for the bit of “babyfat” that becomes visible during these months. Don’t tease him about it! Or maybe you should? ;)

Mental/behavior headcanons

Yami Yugi has agoraphobia: an abnormal fear of being in crowds, public places or open areas, as well as uncontrollable social situations. After thousands of years inside the Puzzle, the crowded open spaces have become overwhelming to him. Despite his desire for freedom, his small prison had become his comfort zone. He copes by focusing on one person, a topic (talking about games) or a duel when in an open stadium, having tunnel vision. Yami is exceptionally capable of masking his anxiety, but when he is unable to cope, he will try to retreat and give control to Yugi.

If there is anything Yami has less knowledge about than Yugi, it’s smut, at least modern-time variants of it. Innuendo jokes tend to get over his head. This doesn’t mean he can’t be cheeky, though! ;)

The pharaoh is often compared to a cat. Moody, graceful, even letting out sounds similar to a purr when comfortable with someone. Calling him a “cat pharaoh” will fluster him.

Yami Yugi’s texting and online chat responses are very elaborate and grammatically correct. If he’s furious or particularly passionate about a subject (example: Duel Monsters), he writes his response in all-caps. He only uses emojis when chatting with Yugi, and even then it’s done somewhat sparingly.

Unlike Yugi, Yami Yugi has no distinct accent when speaking English. Atem, on the other hand, has a light accent as he speaks Coptic.

While Yugi has a distinct real (“honne”) and public (“tatemae”) opinion, Yami’s opinion tends to be both real and public. As a result, he tends to sound brash, not wanting to sugarcoat things. If he dislikes someone, he will let that person know right away. The only times Yami sugarcoats his opinions is towards Yugi, as he’s generally very gentle towards the other.

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