#i put my hands on the keyboard and this came out

[spurious]

okay but john having to deal with rodney's ability to rapidly assimilate information and practice it to muscle memory re: weapons training

so i've been rotating this ask in my brain ever since it arrived in my inbox because it makes me think about many many things. (thank you)

here is one of the things i have been thinking:

Rodney thinks weapons training is a waste of his time and unnecessarily militaristic for a civilian expedition, until the third--or is it fourth? Could be the fifth--time that his ability to competently operate firearms under pressure is one of the only things standing between him, his team, and certain death.

After the dust settles from their latest far-too-violent adventure, he goes to Sheppard, not so early as to run into people in the halls, but not so late as to worry (much) about waking him up, and says, "Alright, you win."

Sheppard blinks, gives him what Rodney's pretty sure is just his normal sleepy-eyed look, not a sign that Rodney had woken him, and says, "Well, that's great." He tilts his head, shifts from foot to foot in that restless, hippy sort of way he has. "What'd I win, exactly?"

"I'm agreeing to submit myself to weapons training," Rodney says, impatient. "And we're doing it now because I'm not going to the armory when it's full of people."

"Dunno if I'd call that winning," Sheppard mutters, but he's already slipping socked feet into his half-laced boots, so Rodney doesn't particularly care if he wants to complain on the way.

--

John's won something, that's for fucking sure, he thinks to himself as he watches Rodney's hands quickly and precisely disassemble his sidearm. Rodney had watched John do it once, had asked a series of extremely detailed, rapid-fire questions, and then proceeded to try it for himself four times in quick succession, each iteration becoming more competent, more assured.

"It really is just simple mechanics, in the end," Rodney's saying, and he's been murmuring to himself the whole time, even as John's trying to act casual, his mouth dry and his body prickling with terrible heat.

They're alone in the armory, most of the lights not even on, it smells like metal and cordite and gun oil and John is thinking about doing something extremely ill-advised, something like pressing Rodney up against the shelving and licking into his mouth, or dropping to his knees and seeing what those hands would feel like in his hair, guiding his mouth around a hot hard cock.

"Alright," Rodney announces, jarring John out of his fantasy. He stuffs a hand in his pocket, tilts his hips in a way that he hopes makes things a little less obvious--not that Rodney seems to be looking. He's holding up the gun, a lopsided smile on his face. "Now I shoot something?"

John thinks about stepping in close, about putting his hands on Rodney's thick arms to correct his grip, about being close enough to smell his skin, and says, trying not to sound strangled, "Yeah, Rodney, time to shoot something."

#honestly idk if this is what you were thinking about with this but #i put my hands on the keyboard and this came out #mcshep #fic

[eveninggstar]

Princess Treatment

Summary: Whilst on stream, your viewers ask why you don’t have “smoking fingers” and you provide an answer.

Warnings: reader smokes, reader is intended to be female, one sexual innuendo, pre-established relationship, reader gets nails done, no use of y/n

A/N: i watched a clip thing on tiktok of someone pointing out Jake’s fingers and it’s because of smoking so i thought why not have a cutesy girlfriend not ruin her freshly done nails.

also expect some Johnnie to come up i have three requests and they are actually amazing so tysm for them!!

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

You were sat on your pink gaming chair, swaying side to side whilst you were beginning your stream. The viewers rolled in quick, as well as the various donations and quick messages.

A message catches your attention, halting your swaying. “Did you get your nails done?” you mutter to yourself as you lean forwards. “Oh yeah! I did.” You lifted your hands up vertically showing off your fresh nails. “Jake took me for my birthday.” You had a cheesy smile on your face as you brought your hands down. You put them under your thighs as your shoulders hunched up at the mere feeling talking about Jake gave you.

“I was going to get them done anyway,” you paused and thought about your incredibly outgrown nails prior. “if you saw my nails before…Wait! did i show you guys?” you rushed to your phone and went through your gallery.

You found the photo Jake had sent you. It was a picture of you squishing his cheeks together with both hands, and you can see how outgrown your nails were. You flipped your phone to the camera, trying different angles so your viewers could see. “Stop focusing on me,” you muttered angrily to your camera. It focused and showed the chat a cute picture of you and your boyfriend, with your outgrown nails.

“Like we took this when we went target, with Johnnie.” You set your phone down and talked with your hands, even more than usual with your nails. “He literally called me over and went,” you took a breath and made your voice higher in irritation to mock Jake’s, “Babe, show me your nails!” you scrunched your face up, then resorted to your natural voice, “And so i did that, he took a picture.” you paused, showing confusion in your face, “I think he put it on instagram, on his story. I swear he did something like that and.. was there a poll on if he should pay for me to get my nails done?”

Looking at the chat you see the confirmation, or the people who were unaware on how bad your nails looked in shock. You rolled your eyes, “Anyways, i have such a cute boyfriend the came with me and payed.” You showed your nails off again.

This time another message caught your attention, “If you smoke why don’t you have ‘smoker fingers’?” You furrowed your brows at the question. “What the fuck is smoker fingers?” You looked down to your keyboard and began to type ‘what is smoker fingers?’.

“Okay Chat, smoker fingers are~” you dragged out the final word, “Yellowish discoloration on the ends of your fingers from holding a cigarette; wait!” you look at your fingers. “Oh i know why!” you were about to answer when you got a phone call from Jake.

“Hello, i’m streaming.” you held up your speaker to the microphone.

“You wanna know why your fingers aren’t yellow?” Jake yelled in irritation.

“Why?” you giggled with your hand over your mouth.

“Because you always make me hold your cigarettes! Look at my fingers!”

“I can’t, we’re not on facetime,” you were proved wrong as he came through your door behind you. You turned around to see him just stood there with a hand on the door handle and the other on his hip.

You look at the camera, then the stream to see what the viewers were seeing. Then you turned to see Jake still in the same position, causing you to lean into your hands that were propped up on your desk and failed to conceal your laughter. Jake then strutted up to the camera and held up his yellowing fingers with nails littered with chipped polish.

“Look! This is what she does, making me hold her cigarettes!” he then turned away from the camera to look at you cracking up and trying to hide in your hands. “What do you have to say about this?” he then held him fingers up to your face.

“Cigarettes are gross,” you spoke in a small voice with a smile on your face as you peered up at him.

“So you have it inside of your body?” Jake questioned and looked down at you.

“Well, i do that with you. Don’t I?”

He stood there in shock and strutted out towards the door, then he turned around with a cock of his hip.

“Never speak to me again!” he spoke in an accent, then went to another accent. (idk how to describe it it’s kinda like a pageant mum?) “Love you, sweetie.” he opened and closed his hand in a wave and left your room, leaving you laughing your ass to your audience.

781 words

#jake webber #jake webber x y/n #jake webber x you #jake webber x reader

[teeskz]

Deja Vu: “I want you so bad.”

» pairing: asshole! wooyoung x fem! reader

» summary: Getting paired with Wooyoung, notorious half-asser and asshole, on your midterm assignment must’ve been karma for something you’ve done in the past, cause god did you luck out bad. He’s constantly late to your meetings, hardly does any work, and on top of that, he teases you like no other. You can’t stand him. Until one day, a storm comes, brewing unfamiliar feelings amongst you two, and what you thought you knew had honestly just turned out to be deja vu.

» word count: ~ 9k (i actually have no idea, i just know it’s long)

» genre & warnings: non-idol au, asshole (most of the time) wooyoung, sub (sometimes) reader, dry humping, grinding, praises, unprotected sex (BAD, DON’T DO IT), rough sex, cream pie, ass & tit slapping, major teasing (both sexually and socially), orgasm denial x3, edging, fingering, dirty talk, overstimulation, reader has a younger face but is of age, mentions of bff!seonghwa, reader is unintentionally cute, minor peer pressure (helps reader get out of her shell/pushy roommate), heavy make out session, whiny wooyoung, sensitive reader

» a/n: when i tell you i am in love with this kind of wooyoung

─ ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .*.･｡ﾟ

Everyone warned you about him.

He’s a handful for sure.

You got him as your partner? Good fucking luck with that.

Be ready to do your half of the load, plus his.

You knew this would happen.

So how come you’re still surprised when at 6:45, Wooyoung strolls into the library, a drink in one hand and his laptop in the other, looking as if he’s ready to work. He should’ve been here 45 minutes ago.

You peer up from your own screen and can’t help but scowl at the boy. Wooyoung also notices you, and instead of feigning remorse a cheesy grin spreads across.

“Look at you being all studious.” He reaches the table you occupied and plops down next to you, parts of his drink splashing onto your bare arm, “How much have you gotten done?”

Adjusting your laptop screen, you hardly spare him a glance as you go back to typing, “Honestly, not that much. It’s hard coming up with research on my own.”

You hope the bitterness came through in your tone and judging by the way Wooyoung guffaws, you could tell it did. He just didn’t care.

“Y/N-ah, why’re you being so cold to me?” His voice is playful, lighthearted even, speaking as if the two of you were friends. Which you’re most certainly not.

Instead of replying, you let your fingers do the talking as they slap the keyboard with clicks, a reminder that you guys need to work and not converse. Does he think you actually want to spend your Friday working on some stupid project? One that’s worth a large chunk of your grade at that.

“I brought you something to drink.” He shoves the cup in your face and you can see the liquid start to turn more opaque as the ice melts. It’s also like 70% gone. Having enough, you harshly face him, the sudden movement causing him to buck backwards.

“Wooyoung, you need to get to work and stop playing around. We don’t have time for this, especially when you decided to show up almost an hour late.” You try to sound authoritative, but that in itself is a bit of a problem for you. Your voice has always been softer than most, so when you do try to take charge, you often get ‘awwws’ of how cute you sound. And you hated that.

It also doesn’t help that you have a rounder and softer looking face for someone your age. If you could count on your fingers the amount of times someone’s asked if you’re touring your college instead of attending it - with them thinking you’re a high schooler, well, you’d probably put around 3 fingers down. But the analogy still stands.

Wooyoung’s no different, him holding back a smile from the way your eyebrows would furrow and how your nose would scrunch whenever you exhibit anger. He found it endearing, actually.

“Okay...you’re clearly mad at me-”

“How can I not be?” You exclaim, “It’s been a week of us working on this project together, and somehow you manage to show up late every time, but it’s never been past 30 minutes. You’re even the one who told me to be here at 6!”

“I have a good reason for being late though.”

With that, you push your computer forwards and lean back in your chair arms crossed, entertaining whatever nonsense was about to spew out of his mouth, “Oh please, I’d love to hear this.”

He mocks your stance, “I was getting chased by a girl.”

You’ve got to be kidding me. You give him a deadpanned expression which causes him to whine.

“No seriously! I was.” In a flash, he pulls out his phone and puts it out for you to see a string of messages.

5:48 PM

WOOYOUNG:

- HYUNG!!!

- i need your help asap

5:49 PM

SEONGHWA:

- huh?

- what’d you do?

5:51 PM:

WOOYOUNG:

- the girl from last weekend’s pissed at me and is looking for me all over campus

- can i pls hide in your dorm?

5:51 PM:

SEONGHWA:

- tf did you do to piss her off?

5:52 PM:

WOOYOUNG:

- i’ll explain later just please let me hideout at your place

- i heard she has a knife

5:52 PM:

SEONGHWA:

- okay fine

5:53 PM:

WOOYOUNG:

- thank you!!

- i’m already outside your door

Admittedly, you were left dumbfounded. So maybe he did have a reason today, but that doesn’t excuse all of the other times. Wooyoung slips his phone back into his hoodie pocket while you go to ask the obvious question.

“What did you do to make this girl mad?”

He blows out a hard breath, as if even thinking about her is such a hassle, “We hooked up last week and I told her I didn’t wanna see her again. So, this is how she reacted.”

You purse your lips out, “Well, maybe she was hoping to gain something out of it. You know, there are nicer ways to phrase ‘I’m not ready for a relationship’ that don’t involve the girl getting hurt.”

“Why should I care about her feelings?” His words are icy, though it seems to be directed towards you, “I told her upfront I didn’t want anything more, it was only supposed to be sex. I asked her if she could handle that and she said yes. If she went ahead and caught something for me, that’s not my fucking problem.”

Once he was done, Wooyoung reels himself in. The realization that you weren’t, in fact, the psycho chick that had been chasing after him earlier dawns on him as you silently nod in agreement. If he had been clear on his intentions since the start, then there wasn’t really much you could say against him.

“I didn’t know that, sorry for jumping to conclusions.” You sound more sad then you meant to and reach out for your computer.

After a beat his sour look turns sweet again, another playful smile returning, “Oh Y/N-ah, don’t apologize for that. I’m sorry for getting worked up.”

“Your frustrations understandable, especially if you’d been real with her from the beginning. Frankly, she should’ve expected that.” Shrugging your shoulders, you go to work again, now noticing the time hit 7:18 PM. You had about 12 minutes to get Wooyoung to do something, but that probably won’t happen.

He cheers your name loudly, happy that you and him agree on a topic for once and the librarian on standby hisses at him to quiet down while throwing a nasty glare.

The two of you exchange glances before both quietly laughing, you going back to finishing one of your paragraphs for your thesis while he simply sat and watched.

«—————————»

The next time you were supposed to meet with Wooyoung, you receive a text from him hours before your designated time.

12:07 PM

WOOYOUNG:

- pls no library today

12:09 PM

YOU:

- what was wrong with it last time?

12:10 PM

WOOYOUNG:

- the old hag yelled at me

- i’m not dealing with that again

12:11 PM

YOU:

- well tbh you aren’t the quietest person to have around

12:11 PM

WOOYOUNG:

- sorry we all cant be mouses like you

12:13 PM

YOU:

- ignoring that

- how about the cafe nearby?

12:14 PM

WOOYOUNG:

- ugh the coffees gross

- and psycho chick works there

- hell. no.

12:15 PM

YOU:

- oh then def not there, where do you wanna meet then?

12:17 PM

WOOYOUNG:

- just come over to my apartment

- i would suggest your place but i don’t feel like going out

12:18 PM

YOU:

- what if i don’t feel like going out

12:18 PM

WOOYOUNG:

- who wears the pants in this friendship?

12:20 PM

YOU:

- there is no friendship

12:21 PM

WOOYOUNG:

- still don’t wanna admit we’re friends…..

- it’s bad enough you pretend to not know who i am around others

- makes me sad

12:24 PM

YOU:

- does it actually?

12:26 PM

WOOYOUNG:

- no 😛

- come over at 7

12:27 PM

YOU:

- alright fine

Even though you agreed to 7, you actually intended on getting there around 7:10. Hopefully the taste of his own karma would help him learn to respect others times and not waste a second of it.

Throughout the day, while doing your mundane tasks, the text messages between you and Wooyoung keep circling your thoughts. Mainly towards the end.

You and him haven’t established a clear relationship, so that’s why you denied his friendship claim. In all honesty, he just didn’t seem like one to you. But after what happened at the library, a part of you can possibly start to think differently.

Yet your mind races at the possibility you had actually hurt his feelings. It’s not a secret that you two are partners, so whenever you do deny his existence, many people laugh off your comment as a joke. Which for the most part it is. Had you been going too far with that?

Then again, this is Wooyoung you’re talking about. He hardly takes anything serious. Not even a project that’s worth more than half of his final grade. You’re probably just overthinking it, no need to stress out over this.

Telling yourself that, you continue to busy yourself with random tasks till around 6:30, which also happens to be the time your roommate arrives back from wherever she had left early this morning.

“Hey, where are you about to go?”

She asks as she notices you picking out a sweatshirt to wear, already having on light flared jeans. She comes up behind you and lands a loud smack on your ass and you fake cry. This is not a first time offense.

“Wooyoung wants to meet at his place for our project.” You look between two sweatshirts in your hands, a light grey and black.

Your roommate throws herself onto your bed since hers is barely visible due to the abundance of clothes occupying it. But then she pauses for a moment, rethinking over what you just said, “Wait, you’re going to his apartment?”

You nod absentmindedly, still deciding on which clothing option to wear.

“Is he trying to fuck you?”

Now that snaps you out and you dart your eyes to her, “What?! Absolutely not.”

She sits up now, legs crisscrossed as she becomes engross in the conversation, “Y/N, he 100% is! You’ve guys been studying at the same two places for the past week, now suddenly he wants to change locations? To a more secluded place? Sounds sketchy as hell.”

You’re quick to discard that, “It’s because he doesn’t wanna go out today. Plus, Wooyoung has his reasonings for not liking our usual spots.”

Her eyes do a dramatic roll, “Right, just as I’m sure he had his reasonings for being an hour late last Friday.”

You had been texting your roommate up until Wooyoung’s arrival, frustration running into the ground. But you also told her he had a legit excuse later on. So, she’s clearly not the biggest fan of him.

“Don’t say such things. And besides the seclusion will probably help us work better.” You finally choose to go with the black sweatshirt and put back the grey.

“Or it’ll help when your screaming his name and no one will be around to hear it.”

“Hey!”

She throws her hands up innocently, though nothing’s innocent about what’s coming out of her mouth, “I’m just saying! The possibility isn’t a no.”

“To me it is! Plus, he doesn’t even see me like that. Just as a friend…..sorta. Well, that’s not really the case for me. But it’s- you know what, never mind.” You finish putting on the sweatshirt and do your go-to style for your hair, something quick.

“Okay, well can you at least prepare better just in case you guys are gonna bone?”

You just shake your head in disbelief that this conversation is even happening, while she gets up and begins rummaging through the pile on her bed. When her hands come out again, they’re gripping a lacy tank top and matching underwear.

If you thought this couldn’t get any worse, it just has significantly.

“You’re not serious….” You shake your head once more, disbelief clouding your mind again.

“Y/N go put this on right now!” Before you had a chance to protest, she’s pushing you into your closet, throwing the clothes at you before locking the door and turning the lights on from outside.

“You’re crazy! I thought you don’t even like Wooyoung, why’re you so on board with this non-existent idea?!” You yell.

“Cause, even if he is an asshole, he’s still hot! And the perfect gateway into the hookup culture you’ve always wanted to be apart of since freshman year!”

You mentally curse yourself for wanting to have a ‘hoe phase’ and for sharing that with your roommate. That was forever ago anyways, surely she would’ve realized you grew up since then. Once you realize your roommate is dead set on not letting you out, you sigh annoyingly. She is insane.

But as you begin to caress the fabric, your mind begins to race. You had absolutely no intention of getting with Wooyoung, not now or ever. You don’t even consider him a friend! Yeah, he’s extremely attractive, and maybe even your type.

However, that doesn’t make up for how much he irks your soul, and you could swear up and down that you dislike him.

Maybe that’s why it would be perfect, the voice inside of you starts, no extra feelings attached, and no one has to get hurt like psycho crazy girl.

You bit your lip at the thought. Would he even hook up with someone like you? You don’t think you’re exactly his type.

………oh who’re you kidding, he’d probably mess with anything that has a hole.

“Don’t overthink it, if you feel the moment happening, jump on it. If not, then let it ago.” Your roommate adds more encouragement.

Suddenly switching your brain off, you strip off you clothes, removing the current underwear for the newer kind. You toss back on your other clothes before begging your roommate to let you out.

She opens the door but stops you in your tracks, “Now hold on, before you go let me see that you have it-”

You lift up your shift to reveal the tight material straining against your skin. You felt your breasts were gonna pop out at any second.

Your roommate gapes at you then goes to quickly put your shirt down, “Oh wow, I almost just said something I might’ve…...anyways you look fucking amazing.”

“Aww, thank you.” A tiny smile spreads across your face and your roommate resists the urge to pinch your cheeks.

“Okay, what time are you’re suppose to meet him?”

You glance over at your clock which reads 7:01 PM, “Hmmm, about right now.”

She tells you to hurry out of here but before you get the chance to, she walks over to the window and takes a peak, “Hey, have you checked the weather?”

“No, why?” It had been sunny all today there was really no point.

Your roommate holds back saying something, her gaze going over to your closet, “I think you should wear the grey sweatshirt.”

«———————————»

You were going to kill you roommate. The funeral’s been planned out, you already knew the casket color - burnt siena - and all you needed was the body. She is so dead.

You knock ferociously at Wooyoung’s door, at such a rate that someone could mistake you for one of his many, many girls. The door swings open, a freshly showered Wooyoung standing on the other side.

“Y/N-ah, why’re you so angry all the ti-” His eyes go wide at the sight of you. Your once neat hair all messy and soaked from the rain. The sweatshirt your roommate suggested had turned a much darker grey while your light pants were splattered in raindrops.

The worst part about it all, the rain started just as you were approaching his street, and it came down in waterfalls. You were already too far to turn around and grab an umbrella.

“I don’t. Wanna. Talk about it.” You roughly push past him and into his apartment, which you would normally stop to admire the niceness of it if you weren’t so upset. His living room and kitchen’s clean and modern, a TV playing some movie in the background.

“I feel like I could make a joke, but this is just too easy,” You toss a harsh glare over your shoulder at him as he closes and bolts his door, him shuddering at your expression, “Is this why you were late? I was counting every second.”

You highly doubt that’s true, “No, my roommate and I got to talking about…something.”

He tsks, running the white towel over his damp hair, “You know for every minute you were late, I say you deserve a spanking.”

If not for you roommate, that statement wouldn’t have illicit more than a scowl from you, maybe even an eye roll. But your mind trails off to you bent over his lap while he counts the number of times his palm hits your flesh.

And you feel your face immediately burn so you turn away, “If that’s the case, you’d probably wouldn’t be able to walk for like a week.”

With your back facing him, Wooyoung’s eyes linger down to your ass, and how full it looks in those pants. Dammit, he told himself he wouldn’t think of you in that way. And that spanking comment completely slipped out, but now he’s wishing he hadn’t said anything. His thoughts are truly something else.

“Where should we work?” You ask, desperately needing a change in subject.

He seems to be cleared from his own thoughts and he leads you to his living room where his laptop’s already set up with your guys’s work document. Hey, talk about efficient.

Wooyoung drops to the couch and you sling off your backpack, going to follow his lead when a foot comes in contact with your ass.

“Sorry, but I can’t have you sitting on the couch.” He slowly lowers his leg and you scoff lightly, your face doing the thing it does when you get angry. It kills him inside each time.

“Well, what am I supposed to do? I don’t have a spare change of clothes.”

Just as quickly as he sat down, Wooyoung’s back up again and tells you to follow him to his bedroom. Outside, you can hear the wind start to pick up, mixing with the treacherous rain.

“You can borrow a shirt from me, but I’m kinda low on bottoms.” He says as he yanks open a clearly broken drawer and begins looking for a suitable replacement.

He pulls out a ratty, white tee and tosses it on your face, you hearing him laugh at you as he makes his way out the door. You rip the shirt off with a huff, “Thank you for this.”

His eyes do a quick motion back to you before smiling his usual, playful grin, “That’s what friends are for.”

And he goes to exit again, leaving you alone to change. Trying your best to ignore the way your stomach buzzes at the remembrance of his smile, you pull off you own wet shirt and replace Wooyoung’s dry one, his scent engulfing you the minute it’s on you. You thought you could get drunk of this.

And as for pants, well, your jeans didn’t get as much damage as your top, so it should be fine. You work your way back to the living room, Wooyoung actually working diligently for the first time in ages.

“Whatcha doing?” You take the only open seat next to him on the cushion, but whatever change of heart you had towards him dissipates in a matter of seconds as he flips his screen to show you some clothing store he’d been browsing.

“Do you think this would look nice on me?”

You stare at him blankly before giving him a half-hearted answer. That seems to do the trick as he twists his computer and goes back to typing, most likely still not working. You open your own laptop and begin immediate research, the sounds of clicks filling the air as if you’re both competing for which one is the most significant.

An hour goes by, then two, then three, till next thing you know it’s 11 o’clock at night and the only thing left of your paper is the conclusion, which you tasked Wooyoung with since no one knows all that he’s really done.

“Holy shit! I can’t believe we’re almost finish with this.” He sighs happily into the couch while you shoot him a face. He instantly backtracks and rephrases his sentence into something more accurate, where he’d actually given you more credit.

“This feels like the longest paper I’ve ever written,” You huff as you layback alongside Wooyoung.

“Yeah, well,” He regards you and you meet his gaze, a tiny smile breaking out, “I know you did a great job. You’re an awesome researcher.”

The words could make you melt on sight, “Wooyoung, you’re too sweet.”

At the sight of your genuine smile, he felt as if his heart was going to leap out his chest. Damn you and you’re cuteness.

“Here I thought you couldn’t wait to rid me of your time.” You say as you snicker at your own joke. Definitely was the other way around.

“Well, don’t count on that. Trust me when I say, you’ll never get rid of me.” A devilish grin overtakes him and you roll your eyes, playfully this time. Maybe there is a part of you that’s starting to warm up to him.

“It’s probably time for me to go, it’s past 11.” When you go to stand, you hear Wooyoung whine behind you, begging you to stay longer. It’s just him being bored, don’t overthink it.

Right as you go to pick up your bag, a flash of lightning followed by loud thunder stop you in your step. With the time you spent with Wooyoung, you’d completely forgotten that a literal thunderstorm had been conjuring outside.

“Where’d you park?” He asks as he goes to stand next to you, trying to see out of the window of the blinds but even that had been barricaded by water.

“Oh, uhh, I actually didn’t drive. I walked here from my dorm.” You begin to think about how you’d get home. The bus normally comes around 12, so you could just wait under the bus stop to get out of his hair-

“You better not be considering leaving,” He chastises and when you make a guilty face he’s shocked, “Are you kidding me? I’m not letting you go out there.”

“I don’t wanna be in your way anymore, I’m sure you’re tired of me enough.” You rebut with wide eyes that make it hard for him to look away.

“Don’t make up lies, Y/N-ah, that’s what bad people do.”

Why does he do this to you? Treat you like you don’t know that there’s wrong in the world, like your sheltered. You stick your hip out and cross your arms, “Who’s to say I’m not bad.”

That sentence alone was enough to get him to laugh as if he’d been holding one in for a while, “Yeah, okay. I’ll go get my room ready for you.”

You trail him like a puppy as he goes down the hall and into his bedroom, “Hey, I didn’t agree.”

“And I don’t remember caring if you did.” He picks up the little trinkets off the floor before switching his pillows out with new ones.

You trot behind him, “Then if that’s the case, you take your bed. I can’t kick you of here.”

“You’re not kicking me out, I already gave the room to you.” He moves onto collecting a blanket from his closet then proceeds out into the living room again with, surprise surprise, you close by.

“Wooyoung this isn’t fair, I feel bad.”

He drops the cover then whips around to face you, his eyes burning deep into yours, “Where do you want me to sleep if you’re taking the bed then, huh?”

“Don’t overthink it, if you feel the moment happening, jump on it.”

Your roommate said this to you and boy if this doesn’t feel like a moment. Your eyes drop down slightly, then off to the side before landing back on Wooyoung, “You could….oh I don’t know, just stay in the room with me.”

He halts in place, trying to register if he just heard you correctly, “Stay with you……?”

You rapidly shake your head yes because you aren’t too confident your mouth could say much more. He pushes his tongue against his mouth, obviously lost in thought, and you briefly look at the movement. You must’ve turned into a huge pervert in the span of 4 hours because just the sight of that is enough to make your heart race.

“I normally don’t sleep with classmates, but I think I can make an acceptation for you.”

You flick him in the chest at his comment, him immediately laughing. And while part of you felt that was the proper response on your behalf, another hated how you knew he was joking. Like he could never even imagine you in that kind of way.

“Alright, let’s go back to the room then.”

This time you lead the way, with Wooyoung immediately stripping once he steps foot into the room. At the removal of his shirt, you spot a gold chain dangling from his neck, which you felt was a good fit for him. He goes all the way down to his boxers, a classic plaid mix with colors, and your eyes widen at how casual he’d just done it. Though, you don’t completely mind.

“Oh yeah, I get hot easily so sometimes I like to prepare. .” Without another second to waste, he hops into his side of the bed, “Don’t let me stop you though, okay Y/N-ah?”

You don’t even respond as hastily you turn around and fiddle with the button of your jeans. It’s now or never. You pull your pants down, around your ass and past your thighs till they pool around your ankle. You step out of them then bend down to retrieve, folding and placing them on a nearby chair.

“Did you wear that underwear just for me?” He’s teasing you, just like always, though this time you don’t have a comeback. You really had worn these just for him.

He picks up on your no-reply and could tell there’s a sense of something in the air that wasn’t there before.

When you turn back around, Wooyoung’s eyes are glued to you, more specifically towards your legs. You don’t get into bed immediately, instead watching him to see his reaction. Is this where everything goes downhill?

He rakes his eyes upwards till they land on your gaze and it appears he’s confirmed something in them, not playing around or joking. That you’re dead serious. Your heart rate accelerates and his lingering stare is starting to make you curdle.

After a beat his body weakens, “Come here.” His finally says. His voice is strained quietly, speaking as if you’d break if he were any louder. And so you do, leisurely, stalling.

You reach the side of the bed and he motions you to continue. You dip a knee into the mattress before placing your other, then again slowly make your way over to him.

Stopping right in front of his face, his arms reactively go up to grab at you but he stops himself midway. You can tell he’s asking for full permission, and attempting to calm your breathing you give a nod of approval.

His hands grip the back of your thigh, sinking into the skin, before making you straddle him. You sit perched up and toying with your fingers, then decidedly to rest them across his bare shoulders.

“You know I was just messing with you?” He starts, forcing you to give him your attention.

“You always do.” You’re tone sounds neutral thank goodness, but your goddamn pouty lips make you look like your frowning. Or to Wooyoung, kissable as fuck.

Chuckling gently, he bites his lip to stop him from smiling too much, “Yeah, that’s true. But this time it didn’t seem like just teasing to you.”

You feel his hands rub against your thighs, not working their way up, just caressing them while he keeps his eyes locked on you.

“I….” You already knew saying it aloud would sound weird, “I wasn’t sure where tonight was gonna take us.”

He continues to knead into your skin while you go to play with his chain, awaiting his response. You never would’ve imagined this is how the two of you would end up, but damnit if there’s not a part that just excites you a little about it all.

“Did you think we were….” He allows the words to hang in the air but you knew too well what he meant. So you shyly respond, affirming his suspicion.

Wooyoung sighs downward, looking like he just a lost a battle. “I told myself I wouldn’t do anything with you, scolded myself even.”

His words definitely are a shock to you, you stopping your fiddling on his chain to give him your full attention again, “What do you mean?”

“You’re just too cute, Y/N-ah, how could I not think about you in those kinds of ways,” his eyes are back on you, large and dark with plead, “But even when we got paired up together, I told myself to not do anything stupid. Because you don’t deserve that.”

The confession makes your head spin while watching him even more intensely.

“Are you sure this is something you want? If we do this, I promise you I’m not gentle and I don’t have any intention on being so.” He waits for your response but your mind is still murky from his previous statements. What does all of this mean? What was he trying to tell you?

You study him further. The softening of his eyes deepening the longer you two sit in silence. How his now dried hair hangs flowy on his forehead. His skin is clear with full lips. An absolutely gorgeous sight to take in. He’s absolutely gorgeous.

So much so in fact, that you don’t spare another second before leaning in to touch his lips with your own. And he’s quick to react, reciprocating the action in an instant.

It feels as if any previous doubts in your mind just fade out, leaving you with the blissful feeling of Wooyoung. He kisses you like he’s starved. Not sloppy, but uniformed. Almost like he’s been waiting for this and doesn’t want to mess up.

Your mouth moves perfectly with his, and you start tilting your head to either side. He copies your action and the two of you begin to get completely absorbed in the make out.

The hands on your legs work their way up, snaking behind you to cup your ass. He’s had literal dreams of this, and how your ass would feel in his hands. But those don’t compare, can’t compare, to how euphoric he feels in the moment.

When Wooyoung slips his tongue in your mouth, ever so slightly, the minor action causes you to whine a bit, his own groan buzzing into you. You feel some growth in his lap, soon a hardness pressing in your inner thigh.

Your breathing becomes irregular as random sounds emit from you, loving the way your core reacts accordingly to the pleasure. You don’t think you’ve ever been this turned on so quickly. Without even realizing you start to feel friction build from underneath you, now catching onto your hips rolling against his lap.

He starts to take charge though, grabbing and moving your ass to further grind into him. You break away first at the new sensation, huffing and hipping lightly while you struggle to keep your eyes open. Wooyoung takes notice in the way your expression looks so overwhelmed and just so damn cute.

“You like grinding on my cock?” The words tumble out as he flops his head against the headboard, “We haven’t even done anything and you look like you’re already gonna cum.”

His words are ammo to you, fueling you to gyrate faster while your hands go up above his head. He bites his lip, hard, to stop a loud groan from escaping

“You can’t cum just yet, Y/N-ah.” The sentence is more airy, like he’s struggling himself with the pleasure. You still continue though, too caught up in your satisfaction to notice him hoist an arm around your back and flip you face up onto the bed.

He lands between you, throwing in more clothed thrusts while holding in a smile at your reaction, a mix between lust and anger.

“What-” He bucks particularly hard into it your core that you thought you were going to orgasm right there, “Nrgh! What was that for?”

Wooyoung dips his head down to your cheeks, kissing them tenderly before scooting towards your ear. He eases up on the thrusts too until the two of you work at an equal, tiny pace, “I couldn’t have you cumming, not when I finally get to enjoy this.”

He wiggles down a bit till he reaches your stomach, taking the fabric of your shirt between his fingers and lifting it up towards your mouth. You gladly accept it, him shoving the tee until your mouth was full.

When he glances back down, your top now fully in view, his eyes almost bulge out of his head.

"Holy..." He drags his fingers up the curve of your waist to your outer breasts, which are practically spilling out of the tight shirt, "You wore this for me?"

He smirks up at you and your eyebrows furrow at the bad joke. He's lucky your mouth's being occupied at the moment.

Wooyoung goes back to admiring you, craning his neck up to place open kisses on the soft flesh that pokes out before working his way to in between your cleavage.

Your heavy breathing, though muffled, is still audible enough for him to hear, lifting his head up quickly to speak to you, "I think those are gonna be my favorite noises."

You dismiss him, grabbing the back of his head to push him back into you. Wooyoung laughs at your neediness and eagerly goes into your tits again.

The feeling starts to build again in your heat, with you gradually increasing your movements against him. He responds to you by rolling himself further between your legs in a rhythm, the sloppy sounds of him kissing and sucking at you still filling your ears.

You've always been a quick pleaser, not typically lasting more than 15 minutes when pleasuring yourself.

If Wooyoung hadn't changed positions earlier, you most likely would've finished like that, which for the record you were perfectly contempt with.

But now everything feels like so much. So much happening at once that the desperation to spill over comes clawing out.

Wooyoung doesn't let that happen though, letting up once he felt you grinding even harder into him. A single string of spit still connecting to your breasts hangs past his mouth, another all-knowing grin plastered on.

"Someone's a little quick on the trigger." Throwing caution to the wind, he sticks a hand against the middle of your underwear, making you squirm on the spot, "Oh, I can see why. You're fucking soaked."

You mumble out a reply but he pretends he doesn't understand, which to be fair he probably doesn't.

"Sorry, I didn't catch that. Say it again for me." This time he pulls your shirt out, your own little spit string dropping down to your chin.

You gasp harshly, "You're so mean, Wooyoung."

He peers back to your face, staring intently at you when his fingers below push rather deep into your underwear, the action causing you to hike up and grimace, “Hmmm….yeah, I guess I can be.”

In no time his mouth is back between your cleavage as his fingers work your clothed core. You think your hearts gonna explode from overstimulation. You wiggle yourself against his hand, twitching when he starts to move your fabric to the side.

The bare touch he has brings such a feeling you’ve never experienced, making you shiver. The way he would cup your pussy momentarily before releasing, rubbing at your clit again then repeating it all once more. Honestly you thought you were game over.

Till Wooyoung takes his hand away from you fully and sits up. Your face drops at the absence of his touch.

“Hey, what’d I say?” He fakes an angry expression before cracking out into a playful one, “You can’t cum just yet, I haven’t even fucked you.”

He notices the greediness in your eyes, the way you’ve only been concerned on getting yourself off and not him. And he’s not even mad at you for it, finding it rather enticing the desperation you have. Actually, it’s turning him on so fucking much.

“Look at this.”

His voice is authoritative, and when you don’t look exactly where he wants you to, he roughly grabs your hand to palm him through his boxers, “I’m leaking right now and I haven’t even taken my cock out.”

The wetness permeates to your fingertips and you quiver, a sudden sensation taking over. Like you want him inside of you right now.

“I’m gonna pound you until you’re shaking from me,” He wraps his arms underneath you to hoist you up, twisting you around till you’re on all 4’s, “So no orgasming. At least until I say so.”

You go to speak when a hand pushes your head down into a pillow, automatically arching your back with your ass poking out. Your underwear spreads across your cheeks which causes Wooyoung to sigh happily, “I could look at your sexy ass forever.”

“Wooyoung-ah,” You heave, already waiting too long for him, “Hurry up.”

Your voice again was never rude, but it did come off as whiny. He goes to make your wish come true but before that, he lands a harsh smack against your plush skin.

“Fuck, it even jiggles. Y/N-ah, you’re gonna make me cum on myself.” His words make your eyes flutter, swearing that if he kept talking you’d be done for, again.

“Need you in me…..please.” Your last attempt at pleading does the trick for you, with him bringing your underwear down to your knees. He positions himself behind you as he goes to pull down his boxer shorts.

“No more stalling starting right now.” A stroke of dick sends tingles down his spin, then, of course, he toys with your entrance.

Sliding just barely his damp head into you before swiftly pulling it out, rubbing his full length on your pussy lips. He taunts you in a manner that you couldn’t even verbally protest cause it still felt so good.

“I….” Your voice trails off from his continued teasing but that does stop him from being curious.

“Mmm, what’s that?” There’s no edge to his tone this time. If anything, he presents himself softer and more genuine.

You choke on your breath, “I’ve never wanted someone so bad before.” Wooyoung hears the possessiveness in your voice and just like that, his facade comes crumbling down, reaching his breaking point.

If only you’d understand how true those words are for himself.

“Okay,” he pause himself to readjust, “I’m actually gonna fuck you into the sheets now.”

Before he does, his reaches a hand to grab your hair, twisting it to pull you back, “Just let me know when to stop.”

You nod as your consent, which then Wooyoung throws your head back down and brings your waist further up.

He gives no warning when he thrusts himself fully deep into your core, the motion causing your head to almost drive into the headboard.

“Oh my….you’re so damn tight.” His own eyes practically roll back at the feeling of your walls around him, and he almost doesn’t wanna move.

But then you wiggle your hips in need of some friction, and soon he begins to pound into you, just like he said he would.

It starts off slow, him letting the action run through you as your slickness spreads across his cock. You even have the strength to rock with him though you weren’t sure how much longer that would last.

He’s holding onto your waist for support, but then switches one of them to the headboard above, sort of mimicking your earlier position.

His head becomes dizzy with your soft, tiny groans and the slapping sound of his skin against yours as a background.

“S-Shit, think you’re gonna make me…..” Wooyoung becomes too enveloped in the sensation, the intensity from you both, to even finish the sentence.

He gets faster while you grow more limp. Your own pleasure starts to consume you and soon you don’t have the willpower to move. He looks down briefly to your ass, taking the hand from your waist to slap your cheeks.

“Ah!” You gulp in for air, “shit….”

“Oh you like that?” Another one lands on you, though this had some sting behind it. But you love it, “Told you, you needa spankin.”

He doesn’t stop there. Grasping at your tits in front, he forcefully tugs your tank top downwards till they fall out, “Need both.”

Then, he unleashes a smack onto your breasts, this round making you cry aloud, “Wooyoung!”

“You’re so cute, Y/N-ah.” He roughly grabs your mounds of flesh and shakes them, “I love your body so damn much, could fuck you all the time.”

He goes back to fucking you, but your mind wanders. You want to ask if he truly means that, but when a particularly hard thrusts sends you soaring out of your stars, you’re quick to forget.

There’s a build up approaching and your cunt feels extra sensitive from the previous activities. You’ve surprised yourself by lasting this long, but you know your end is near.

“Woo, can I-” The words get caught in your throat and instead you croak them out.

He knows exactly what you want though, and how to give it to you. He folds himself over to completely engulf you, him wrapping both arms around your stomach. He’s still pumping in and out yet his pace has increased significantly, “Yeah, yeah you can cum now. You’ve been such a good girl.”

With his permission you let go, allowing yourself to succumb to the intoxicating heat spreading all around. Wooyoung’s breathing is present behind you as he struggles to find his own regular pattern.

He’s whining, though quietly, into your shoulder, muttering small praises, “Fuck, you’re so good. So damn good. You’ll never let anyone else have you, right?”

He drives his hips continuously as you utter incoherent nonsense, “Promise me no one else will ever see you like this. Can you do that for me?”

You can hardly muster a reply but after a few more gasps it come out, “I promise.”

Your eyes begin to flutter while Wooyoung peppers small kisses down your spine, “You’re mine now.”

And just like that, your orgasm hits like a tidal wave, just a massive explosion causing you to shake. The feeling of your walls contracting around his cock causes Wooyoung to finish too, the two of you cumming in sync. He continues to fuck you through your orgasm, and you whimper loudly.

You’ve never had one hit you so intense before, and even Wooyoung’s load is more than usual as he fills you up, your cunt milking his dick in pulses.

You try to draw out your pleasure for as long as possible, taking a mental note of the whole night until slowly you come down from your high.

Wooyoung finishes as well, his hips growing slow until he finally stops. Instead of removing himself immediately however, he takes in the feeling of him still buried in you, loving how warm you feel. You both breathe heavy and you feel him clench his arms around you.

After regaining your composure, you flop down onto his bed, Wooyoung following close behind you. He lands on top of you and sighs, “You’re probably the best fuck I’ve ever had.”

You giggle lightly, “Is that so?”

“Oh yeah,” He plants another kiss this time on your inner neck, “And I’m definitely your last.”

At that, you crane your neck to him, leisurely turning over as he scoots back slightly, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

His hair is now slightly wet from sweat, showing just how much effort he put in, “Cause, you’re never getting cock from anyone else again. If you want it, you have me.”

The smile that spreads afterwards is shit-eating and mischievous. You’re amused by this but don’t oppose it, and Wooyoung senses your acceptance at his declaration.

He drops down to your lips, kissing you in such a passion that felt had a little more to it than he’s willing to show and maybe you don’t want him to. At least, not right now.

Just as you start to get into it, he breaks away, “Wait, I remembered something.”

“What is it?” Your cock your head to the side a bit in confusion, an act that briefly makes him put his guard down. But he quickly regains it, and scoots down towards the end of the bed.

He takes ahold of your back thighs and pushes them towards you, your legs reactively parting slightly. He then moves your knees apart and creates an open view for himself to your pussy.

There's an audible groan, "Oh fuck, I need to burn this image in my head.”

His cum leaking out of you combined with your puffy cunt practically makes him hard again. He continues praising you and gloats about how fuckable your cunt is.

Your face burns as you can’t help but cower from the attention, but apart of you knows you’ll be getting more of this in the future.

Better start getting used to it now.

- Bonus -

When you wake up again, it’s to your phone violently ringing off in the distance. You feel a heavy arm slung over you and it takes you a minute to realize Wooyoung is nestling between your neck with a leg on top of yours, out like a light.

Still groggy, you sit up, some surprise coursing through you as you notice your lack of clothing. But that didn’t matter as of right now. All you want is to find this phone and shut it the hell up.

You aimlessly search through the comforter, then bending over to reach the ground when you see a light being covered by your jeans pocket.

Now you have to get up and actually go retrieve the device, something you do then your back onto the bed.

The photo ID is of you and your roommate 2 years ago when you guys first met in high school. A memory you’d rather forget from when she took you fishing for the first time with her family. Your eyes also dart up to the time which reads 2:43 AM.

Oh gosh.

You press the answer button, “Hello-”

“What the hell is wrong with you?! I’ve been texting and calling you for the past 2 hours and I was getting worried!”

You wince at her shouting, holding the phone a way from your ear slightly, “Sorry, sorry. The storm got really bad so Wooyoung offered to let me sleep here. I should’ve told you that-”

“Damn straight you should’ve! Had me thinking the fucker kidnapped you or something, you’re so reckless.”

Your eyebrows furrow, minor irritation pricking at you for her earlier stunt, “Okay, I get where you’re coming from, but you’re the one who knew it was gonna rain. Why would you let me wear grey-!”

“Oh come on, you are not bringing that up right no-”

Your phone gets plucked out of your grasp and soon you hear the end-call noise. You look over at Wooyoung who’s resting up on his forearms, your phone in a hand with your call gone from the screen.

“She’s really loud, woke me up from our nap time.” He mutters then goes searching through your phone before he appears to type out something.

“Wooyoung!” Your shock subsides as the realization of what he’d just done dawns on you, “You can’t hang up on her, she’s my roommate.”

He just shrugs his shoulders, your scolding rolling off of him, “I just did though, plus shouldn’t she be asleep right now? It’s too late for you girls to be up.”

You scowl at him when he glances up at you, shooting you a tiny smile. Then he hands out your phone and you take it skeptically, “What’d you do?”

“Relax, I just told your roommate you’d talk to her in the morning. She needs to take a chill pill, texting you 47 times, holy shit.”

You graze through the messages and see all of the texts she’d sent asking about your whereabouts and then you see the one Wooyoung sent merely seconds ago.

“Hey, come back to bed, you need sleep.” He attempts to pull you back to him and you allow him to, falling down into his chest.

And that’s how you spend the rest of the night, safe in Wooyoung’s arms.

#ateez #ateez wooyoung #wooyoung x reader #ateez x reader #ateez smut #ateez seonghwa #ateez scenarios #ateez fanfic #jung wooyoung #k pop smut #wooyoung #Wooyoung x reader smut #wooyoung smut #ateez oneshot #teeskz #ateez imagines #wooyoung x reader smut #kpop imagines

[starsmourning]

𝒸𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒶𝓁 𝑒𝓍𝓉𝒾𝓃𝒸𝓉˖ ׁ ⁩ .ᐟ

૮ ྀི◞͈ ˔ ◟͈ ྀིა ‧₊˚ ꒰ྀི you couldn’t help it, you wanted your masters cock since he’s been ignoring you, can’t a puppy want his treat? ꒱

ᥫ᭡ ⋆ﾟ⊹ ꒰ྀི scummy incel blade x puppy!ftm!reader ꒱ — ( dom/sub dynamics ﾉ bottom male reader ﾉ dom blade ﾉ consensual ﾉ oral (character recieving) ﾉ you pronouns ﾉ transmale anatomy ﾉ used of boy-cunt, boy-pussy, pussy, cunt ﾉ master kink[?] ﾉ fingering ﾉ squirting ) — 1.1k wc 𐂯 ‧₊˚

૮꒰ྀི∩ ∩ྀི꒱ა ゙ ✿ angel notes ! . . . repost ( not edited. )

fem alligned & mdni blogs dni.

The huge man before you continued to press buttons on the keyboard, the raven haired male not paying attention to you at all. All his attention was on the blaring computer, your puppy ears went low, your lips turning into a pout as you sat beneath him. Your head placed on his lap as you let out a whine.

Your tail laying low as you needily shake your head on his thigh, “m- master please… please, want my treat, I’m a good boy right?” you pouted as he ignored you only yelling insults at his microphone, probably another bad guy he always told you. He looked down before you, patting your head, “master?” you called out as he hummed. “Can I have my treat please? I’ve been a good boy right?”

Seeing your pout he couldn’t help but smirked at this, cupping your face he looked at you, “oh do you? What have you done to be a good boy then?” he asked in a teasing one making you furrow your brows making you pout more, blade chuckled. Such a cute puppy you were so obedient, so naive all just for him, “I’ve been here with you… being quiet! And I stayed.. aren’t I a good boy? I’m a good boy master I swear,”

Blade chuckled happily as he patted your head, your tail happily wagging your ears all perked up as you looked at him happily, “I guess you are a good boy then you want your treat?” he asks, making you sparkle, “yes please!” your tone is so full of joy as he slowly takes off his bottoms, showing off his huge cock. Your eyes had made hearts as you slightly opened your mouth, blade smiled seeing your eagerness. Slowly you lick his cock. He groaned in pleasure as you put the head of his cock in your mouth.

Expertly swirling your tongue on blade groaned as he slowly put his hand on your hair, gripping on it. Your ears perked up happily as you looked up at him seeing as he was enjoying it, you pushed your head on his cock feeling its veins as your tongue touched it, you gagged a little bit feeling the tip hit the back of your throat. “nng… haah, there atta boy,” he groaned in pleasure, feeling your sweet velvety tongue wrap his cock, feeling the warmth of it to his big huge girth.

Meanwhile your boy-pussy was getting wet on the floor, slowly dripping in the carpet as you eagerly sucked his cock as if it was sweet honey nectar. If blade were to describe what he saw between his legs, it would be paradise. A paradise he felt so heavenly as you continued to suck him off. “mmph… mmm~ ♡”

You moan on his cock as you bobbed your head on it, eagerly sucking him off so cock-drunk out of your mind, your boy-cunt was feeling empty but it felt so good having your masters cock inside your mouth. Your own sweet treat he always gives whenever you’ve been such a good boy, your tail wiggled happily as you sucked it. Blade groaned as he pushed your head further on his cock, your throat bulging due to how huge his cock is.

“nng… haah, just like that, what a good boy y/n~” he praised as he saw you bobbed your head eagerly, your ears all perked up as you looked up at him, your eyes making hearts as you blink your pretty lashes on him. God you were just a heaven sent, he groaned as he felt his climax cumming, hearing him groan. The puppy quickly sucked quickly wanting his sweet seed, his sweet milk all in his mouth.

You bobbed your head as you sucked him eagerly like a starving puppy and finally with a final thrust and groan from your dark haired master, he came inside of your mouth. He gripped your head in place as his cum or in other words what you like to call your ‘sweet treat’ or ‘sweet milk’ filled your mouth. The puppy boy eagerly drank it all as his boy-pussy dripped down his own cum.

Slowly taking off his mouth on his masters cock seeing the grip on his hair has loosen he opens his mouth to him showing him that he has drank his sweet essence, “such a good boy you are y/n,” he praised as he patted his head making you giggle happily, he smiled softly seeing you so happy. Though he looks down at your dripping boy-cunt. Its essence oozing on the carpet making the said carpet wet, “aww look at your little boy-pussy all neglected, since I’m such a great master let me spoil my little pet~”

He says with a condescending tone as he carries you up to his lap, putting his hands on your clit he starts circling his huge fingers on it making you hug him, your tail wagging as you moan on his neck. Your head nuzzling into his neck as you gripped on his torso, “nng… haah! ah! ma- master~ ♡” you call out as you arch your back, his fingers pressing your sensitive clit as he slowly slides one of it in your hole.

You flinched feeling his huge fingers fill you up, tearing up as you felt like you were being sent to heaven by your master with such pleasures babbling nonsense on his neck as he chuckle in amusement. “Such a sensitive little puppy~ such a cute little puppy~ ♡” he said as he thrust his finger inside making you moan, “mw- mwaster~ haah.. nng~ ♡” you called him out as you cry in pleasure.

“look at you being so dumb with just a finger, I wonder what will happen if I put in my cock?” blade teases as he slowly adds another finger in making you flinch as he makes scissoring motions inside of your velvety warm walls. He continues to thrust in his fingers as he suddenly crazes a spot that made you arch your back, he smirked as he pressed it again making you arch, “haah! ah! fuwaah~ m- maasterr~ ♡ p- please more~ ♡ “

He smirked as he pressed that spot more, making you a moaning mess, your body writhing in pleasure as his other hand was on your waist keeping you in place. You cry out on his neck as your boy-cunt starts to spasm under his relentless assault on your sweet spot, “m- master!.. master! haah! ah! nng~ fuwah~ mwater! ♡” you try to say you were gonna cum, that your sweet essence was gonna cum soon but all you babble out was his name as he thrust one last time making your honey juices cover his lap, going everywhere as you squirted as you cried in pleasure.

You panted as blade slowly took out his fingers, his hands covered of your slick as you looked up at him in a daze he looked at you with a smirk as he licked his finger that was covered with your translucent juiced.

“good boy~ ♡ ”

#𓂋 ཐི❤︎ཋྀ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ 𝒞𝐻𝐼𝒱𝐸𝒮 — ⩇⩇:⩇⩇ #08.19.2023 #bottom male reader #sub male reader #hsr imagines #hsr smut #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x male reader #hsr x reader #hsr x male reader #blade x reader #blade x male reader #blade x male reader smut #blade x reader smut

[lokis-army-77]

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mondern!Eddie Munson x fem reader

Word Count: 1.1k

It's a few days after April Foos, Eddie isn't expecting you to pull a koke but you have something up your sleve.

Warning: noting! unless you count cursing

Thank you to my beta readers @munson-blurbs and @lofaewrites

Masterlist

You loved seeing the harmless little pranks that people would play on their significant others on social media and with April first already behind you, you knew Eddie wouldn’t suspect a thing. 

It was a bright Wednesday afternoon, you were at Robin's for a much needed girls day when you decided to put your little prank into action. 

"Hey, Rob, you wanna watch as I give Eddie a mini heart attack?" You ask as you wiggle into a more comfortable position on her couch.

"Oh my god, yes!" She excitedly shuffles over to you, leaning her whole body over your right side. 

You're both a giggling mess when you send the first text message. 

Hey, so my tire pressure light just came on, do I need to go have it checked?

It takes a few minutes but he eventually responds.

Is it still driving alright? 

Bring it to the shop when you get home from Robs, I'll fill it up before I leave work.

Yeah, it's driving just fine. The screen says it's my front passenger side tire.

You'll be fine to drive back home, I'll fill it up then, baby.

You leave it be for around thirty minutes as you and Robin think of what you should say next.

So Robin said I should go get it checked out and we were worried I wouldn't be able to drive all the way to your shop so I came to the one by her house.

I didn't know air was so expensive 😫. 

It was no more than a second later that your phone started to ring in your hands. Eddie's contact photo lighting up the screen. You swiped it away and you could feel Robin beginning to silently laugh 

Sweetheart, answer the phone.

Another call that you decline.

What do you mean expensive? Answer your phone!!!

Don't worry, Eds, the guy gave me a good deal! I think it's bc he thought I was pretty.

What do you mean by a good deal? Sweetheart, how much did you pay?

You and Robin can hardly contain your laughter. Tears are running down your faces. 

"I feel so bad, but it's so funny!" You cry. 

Robin nods along, "Don't, it's totally hilarious." She wipes her tears away and points at your phone, "Don't acknowledge those questions yet, say something about how he didn't notice the pretty comment."

You get to typing, fingers gliding over the keyboard.

Wow, I would have thought you'd be upset at another man...

Baby ,that is the last thing I'm worried about. HOW. MUCH. DID. YOU. PAY.

Well he said it was like premium air so it was on the more expensive end but apparently it won't seep out as fast as regular air.

You can see the read receipt and the three little dots as he begins to type. Your heart is beating wildly in your chest as the typing stops and he calls you again only for you to ignore it once more. 

Robin is beside you, howling as she holds her stomach. "This is the best thing I have EVER witnessed in my life!"

PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS HOLY, ANSWER YOUR PHONE. HOW MUCH DID YOU SPEND? BECAUSE PREMIUM AIR ISN'T REAL

So the guy said it's usually 250 for all 4 but he said he'd give me a deal and give me all 4 for the price of 3... is that not how much it usually is?

You need to tell me what shop you're at. Are you still there? Put me on the phone with this fucking guy

Eddie, I'm not putting you on the phone with him.

Sweetheart, why in the world would you take your car to someone else??? I'm literally a mechanic. IT WOULD HAVE BEEN FREE!! 

Are you mad at me?

No, I'm not mad at you baby. I just need you to put me on the phone with the shop owner or someone, anyone. Air in all 4 tires is never gonna be over like 5 bucks...

I told you I'd take care of it, why didn't you just listen 

You almost double over, laughing harder than before. You could tell you were stressing him out, that he was trying to keep from freaking out. 

"Oh my god!" You cackle, "I think it's time to break it to him or else he might actually have a heart attack or maybe an aneurysm. 

Eddie calls you one last time and this time, you answer, sushing Robin as you press the speaker button. 

"Thank fuck, Sweetheart, put me on the phone with the asshole that scared you." His face was gruff, the growl of irritation bringing a shiver lust down your spine. 

"Eddie, baby, calm down." 

"I'll calm down when I get you your money back," he huffs. You can hear the sounds of his shop muffled through the speaker. 

You can't help the giggle that slips past your lips when you make eye contact with Robin. 

"This is not funny," he stresses. 

The giggles continue to bubble up, "I know I know, but I can't help it. I love you so much."

"I love you too, now please let me talk to the guy, I really don't wanna ask again." 

Robin takes your phone at that point, clearing her throat and proceeding to do her best impression of a blue collar man.

"Hey, this is Rodger, at you just got pranked garage, how can I help you?"

"Yeah, you can help me, I-" Eddie stops mid sentence. 

You've got your hand covering your mouth as you try, and fail, to cover your chortles.

"Wait a second... Robin?" All the building anger in his voice disappears as he slowly realizes what's happening.

Robin begins wheezing as you grab your phone back, "We got you!" You gleefully exclam into the phone.

"We got you good!" Robing teeters back on her legs, almost falling from the couch.

You can hear the shaky sigh of relief fron the receiver on the other end. "Thank God. Baby you had me going crazy over here. I was about to drive to every garage in town to find you."

"I'm so so so sorry, baby. I really am but we didn't do anything for April fools like we usually do and I just knew you wouldn't be expecting this."

Eddie lets out the longest sigh of relief you've ever heard. "Shit, sweetheart, I'm getting too old for these pranks."

"You're 35." You deadpan.

"And it's all down hill from here."

You can't see it but you know he has a shit eating grin on and you roll your eyes. "I'll make it up to you when I get home."

"You better."

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #joseph quinn #joseph quinn x reader #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #female reader #eddie munson fluff

[sungbeam]

nonidol!jeong yunho x f!reader

yunho might have been the superstar out of the two of you, but you have always been the center of his universe. (you — it's always been you.)

▷ genre, warnings. bffs2l, childhood friends 2 lovers, pining, popstar/singer au, swearing, fluff, humor, angst, hurt/comfort, kissing, mentions of alcohol, mentions of anxiety/nervousness, they physically cannot be apart for too long sorry they've got Attachment Issues low-key..., one kiss (is all it takes—)

▷ word count. 16.3k (guys,, this was supposed to be only like 6-8k i swear 😭)

▷ associated tunes. keep smiling (demxntia), gone too long (lullaboy), tear in my heart (twenty-one pilots)

a/n: hope u guys like this :'))) i had one of the scenes from here stuck in my brain for awhile and so i had to build the rest of the fic around it, and it turned into this monster, so uhm yes... also much love to @jaehunnyy tysm for reading thru it for me 💖

THE DAY YUNHO'S ALBUM hit the Billboard Hot 100, you knew that you were going to need a lot more hands on deck than just you, your roommate, and Jeong Yunho himself.

“There's not enough albums, not enough time in the day, not enough of you!” You exclaimed with your fingers shoved into your hair as you took in the landscape of chaos before you on your living room floor. “Yunho, why couldn't you be ambidextrous?”

His eyes widened, body frozen where he was shoving a slice of beef jerky into his mouth. “Mwe? Pwhy are pyu yellinh ap mwe por?”

“I'm not yelling at you; I'm just wondering why you weren't born with eight arms instead of just two.” There were simply too many albums for him to sign before his agent came to pick them up in two hours, and there were also too few albums for the amount of demand. You always knew your best friend would make it big one day, but you also thought he would have had a whole team by that time.

Technically, you were his team—you, your roommate Trinity, and Mingi who was at his grandmother's for the long weekend. Mingi was five texts away from driving back down to help you guys four hours ago though. But his family needed him right now, and Yunho was firm in ensuring Mingi didn't have to come down and help. We got this, he'd said. It'll be easy, he also said.

Sure. Easy.

“We can't just forge his signature?” Trinity joked in a sleep-deprived daze as she leaned back against the couch cushions. Her mouth opened wide in a yawn. “I'm kidding. Let's not ruin his career.”

Yunho swallowed his bite. “That would be nice.” He cleaned his fingers on the Wet Wipe he had handy by his thigh, then picked up his black Sharpie, spinning the writing utensil between his fingers. “Now where were we? Album number fifty-six—?”

This had taken place just four months after Yunho released his second album, Aurora. It had been nearly a year and a half since Yunho debuted himself onto the music scene, and it was about time people finally began to recognize your best friend for all that he was—multi-talented, charismatic, handsome (on some occasions; you wouldn’t let him catch you slipping up there, though).

Within the next year and a half, Yunho skyrocketed into further altitudes of fame.

There were plenty of changes that occurred, many evolutions to Yunho's team and additions to his discography, but you were always a part of it. Even with your own career dealings, you would drop anything to be there for him, and him for you. Between the morning show interviews and late night recording sessions, there were also the research presentations and study session pick-me-ups.

“Are you sure you don't wanna come with?” You asked from where you were stationed in front of the bathroom mirror, putting on the final touches for your look this evening.

You could hear Trinity's fingers clacking away at her keyboard at the speed of light through her open bedroom door. “I'd love to, but I unfortunately did screw myself over by procrastinating on this paper. Have fun though, and tell Yunho congrats for me.”

Tonight was the album release party for Yunho's third full studio album entitled Youth. It was something he had been working on for years now, only recently having become satisfied with the tracks he chose and produced for it. Due to his sudden rise in fame, the release party was said to be hosting a myriad of big name celebrities and figures in the music industry. And of course, you. You were no one special, in hindsight, but Yunho couldn't begin to imagine celebrating a milestone without you by his side.

By eight o'clock, you were ready to head out.

You bid Trinity goodbye as you hustled out the front door of your apartment and down to the street below. Yunho and Mingi and everyone else would already be at the party; you would arrive on your own via Uber. You wished you could've been with him to get ready like all the other times, but your schedule had been unfortunate as of late. You were lucky enough to have gotten off of work this early.

As you sat in the backseat of your ride, you anxiously fidgeted with your phone in your lap.

(You were, without a doubt, excited to arrive at the party. Due to yours and Yunho's ever-busy and ever-conflicting schedules nowadays—yours because of work and PhD candidacy stuff, Yunho's because of rehearsals for his upcoming world tour—it had been awhile since you were able to hang out in person. You missed your gentle giant of a best friend.)

A loud vibration from it made your heart leap into your throat, and your face lit up in the dark with the incoming notification.

rockstar 🤟: pls tell me you've left the house

You snorted and typed out a swift reply. If I told you I was still in my pajamas…

rockstar 🤟: then i would call u a liar cuz u don't go to work in pjs, weirdo rockstar 🤟: just getting antsy tbh rockstar 🤟: need my star here w me :’)))

You couldn't help the touched pout that came to your face. I'm almost there, don't worry. And who are you calling a star when that's you? He always got a little sappy when he was nervous.

rockstar 🤟: im literally not having fun here without u hurry up :// your phone: isn't this UR album release party 😭 yun, why aren't u having fun? rockstar 🤟: just hurry up your phone: aish okok 🤧 eta 8min mr. impatient

You knew it was the jitters making him say things like that. Once you got there, you hoped you could help reassure him that he could stop worrying for just a second to enjoy himself. Even if Yunho worried about the album and what people thought, you were just as nervous. You hadn't even heard the entire thing—he’d been cheeky and didn't tell you he added a song to it last minute, but you'd listened to everything else.

You just hoped that people would continue to celebrate him and give him the love he deserved.

When your Uber driver pulled into the drop off loop at the front of the venue, you thanked him on your way out and threw the strap of your small purse over your shoulder. Already, however, as you were met with the residuals of flashing camera lenses and frantic paparazzi calls just a little ways down the driveway, the anxiety slowly began to settle in the pit of your stomach.

You could see the celebrities going up the entrance with people asking them to pose for their cameras, to say a word into their recorders.

Immediately, you turned on your heel and began slipping your way to a side entrance. The last thing you wanted was for dozens upon dozens of people to be staring at you, wondering who you were and why you were important. There were definitely people who knew you—you were plastered all over Yunho's social media because that was just what best friends did. But compared to everyone else walking up that driveway? Not a chance. You were nobody, and that was ay-okay to you.

Just as you thanked one of the employees coming out the side door for letting you in, you felt your phone buzz in your hand again, this time with an incoming call.

You picked it up and squeezed it between your ear and shoulder. “You're gonna need to speak up—the kitchen is super loud.”

“You're here finally!” Yunho said to you through the phone. “I was starting to get worried.”

You chuckled as you ducked out of the kitchen and into the main lobby to get to the elevators. The party was taking place somewhere on the seventh floor… if you could get there without getting lost. “Hey Yun, do me a favor?”

“Sure.”

“Calm down, man.”

The elevator sang its arrival and you stepped inside to the sound of Yunho sucking in a deep breath, then exhaling slowly. “I am calm… wait, are you in the lobby? Let me come down and get y—”

“I just got in the elevator, so don't worry—and I really don't think you should be leaving your own party, rockstar,” you teased. “Man, Mingi and Hwa really pulled out all the stops for this place,” you marveled quietly as you gave the elevator carriage a thorough look. It was made of marble and mirrors, every surface polished and crisp, like that of a tailored suit if tailored suits were made of crystals.

“Yeah, it's really great,” he agreed. “Remember the release party we threw for Crescent?”

A fond laugh tumbled out of your lips as you stepped out of the elevator and onto the seventh floor. Your mind filled with memories of his debut album's release party hosted in yours and Trinity's living room with three extra large Domino's pizzas, root beer floats, and a cheap disco ball. It had been a party for four that night—you, Yunho, Mingi, and Trinity—but your friends didn't need the fancy shit to have fun. “Definitely leagues away from this.”

There was a bouncer at the far end of the hallway, and you were certain now that you were in the right place.

“I kind of miss it,” Yunho murmured. You heard the sound on his end shift, simultaneous to watching the doors in front of you crack open and see Yunho's head pop out into the empty hallway.

“I kind of miss it, too,” you said into the phone, your eyes locked on his and a smile blooming over your features at the sight of your best friend, in the flesh.

There was a tender gleam in his eyes as he took you in and said something in a low tone to the bouncer. He stepped out into the hallway, letting the doors behind him shut fully.

“Slowpoke,” was his greeting to you as he scooped you into his embrace. The smell of his cologne was something familiar and delicious, and permeated your senses.

“Worrywart,” you quipped back, wrapping your arms around him to reciprocate.

When you both pulled back, he kept you at arm's length so he could take a better look at you. “I can't believe you're calling me the worrywart! I do recall that one night when Aurora hit the Top 100—”

You silenced him with a look and a playful punch to his shoulder. You pressed your lips together to suppress a smile as he tilted his head back in a jovial laugh. “Quiet, you. For once, I can't believe you're more nervous than I am.”

He gave a sheepish grin, fussing with the unbuttoned collar of his dress shirt, adjusting the chain he wore on his collarbones so the clasp sat right at the hollow of his throat.

You softened. Oh, he was really nervous.

“This album's just big for me; you know that,” he said, almost like he was trying to brush it off.

“I do.” The two of you began slowly making your way back towards the party doors. “Though, I'm excited to hear this mystery song that you snuck on there. I'm sure everyone will fall in love with the album, just like I did.”

He peered over at you then, and you couldn't understand why you were unable to read his expression then. It was… different. “Really?”

You blinked. “Of course,” you replied automatically. “I mean,” you added, “it's you, Yun. What's not to love?”

Yunho seemed speechless for a second, but moments later, he was breaking into a soft-cornered smile. “You always know what to say, Yn. Come on, there are some people who are dying to meet you.”

“Dying to meet me?” You laughed as the bouncer let the two of you into the party.

The party room was a rented out lounge space with wraparound windows that looked out at the skyline in the valley below. The main lights were kept low and warm, illuminating strategic places throughout the space to highlight the prohibition-like interior design. It was something out of a 1920s speakeasy with its velvet couches and dark mahogany wood finishes.

Yunho took you over toward the side of the room to get food first. There was a variety of snacks and small bites on the buffet table, and there was a bar counter shoved into the far corner where a bartender served drinks.

“I've pretty much socialized with everyone in this room already,” Yunho murmured to you as he shoved his hands into his pockets and grinned. “Meaning I can bug you for the rest of the night.”

Your eyebrows shot up. “There has to be, like, fifty people here. We still have the whole party left.”

“Yeah, but I have more fun with you anyway,” he said with a shrug. He reached for one of the little serving cups that held a little roll of rice armed with a slice of wagyu beef on top, all wrapped together with a strip of nori. “Now these—these are fucking amazing, dude. You have to try one.”

You snorted, but grabbed one of the little cups. “How many of these have you eaten already, Yun?”

He tapped his cup against yours like he was clinking glasses together. He chuckled, averting his gaze. “We don't have to talk about that…” His eyes caught onto someone nearby, and he perked up, shoving the entire bite into his mouth so he had a free hand to flag down whoever it was. “Mmh!”

You nearly choked on your own bite as you watched your best friend, who's cheeks were stuffed like a chipmunk's, flap his arm around in the air to get this person's attention because his mouth was currently occupied.

You turned your head to see who he was waving over, and nearly choked again, having to cup your hand over your mouth to prevent rice from falling out. Your eyes widened an alarming amount. “Mmno—!” You mumbled through your bite.

“What? I can't hear you,” he snickered. “Hongjoong hyung! There's someone I want you to meet.”

You made a crazed gesture—no, no, I'm not ready! How dare you ambush me with social interac—you swallowed the food in your mouth as Hongjoong made his way over. You had never met the famed Kim Hongjoong—legendary producer, prodigy musician, favorite model to ever strut down the Paris Fashion Week Runway. He dropped off the grid for a brief three-month hiatus until he suddenly reappeared, but in your best friend's Instagram story. At some point, Yunho had met Hongjoong and won his favor. Then again, it was easy for Yunho to win over anyone's favor.

No one really knew why Hongjoong disappeared like he had, but some speculate it had something to do with his new relationship status: single.

You were always starstruck seeing Hongjoong on Yunho and Mingi's social media, as well as Hongjoong's own platforms. Tonight was no exception.

Hongjoong's hair of the season was a simple light brown that complimented his skin tone and the warmth in his smile. You were used to seeing him in more extravagant garb, but tonight, he chose something very simple, but chic like Yunho.

Yunho and Hongjoong clasped hands in greeting. “What's up, man?” The latter chirped, eyes flickering over to you as you attempted to behave normally.

Yunho gestured toward you, his eyes twinkling as he swept his arm around your shoulders to bring you forward. “This is Yn. Yn, this is Hongjoong. He's the one who produced the album—”

“Now, don't downplay your own efforts, Yunho,” Hongjoong cut in with a knowing look. “You produced so much of it on your own; I fine-tuned and made a couple tracks, but the rest was all you, man.”

“I always tell him he's far too humble,” you agreed.

Hongjoong sent you a smile, extending his hand out. “Great minds think alike, Yn. It's very nice to meet the person this guy doesn't ever stop talking about.”

You laughed good-naturedly and saw Yunho's flushed sheepishness out of the corner of your eye. You shook Hongjoong's hand with a firm, confident grip. “Nice to meet you, too. You're—you’re incredible, by the way. I remember when Yunho posted a photo with you, and I literally screamed his ear off over the phone.”

Yunho winced and held a hand up to his ear, as if remembering the physical sensation of that phone call. “Yup, definitely damaged my eardrum that day.”

“Well, thank you; I'm flattered,” Hongjoong replied pleasantly. “So I'm assuming you've probably heard as much of the album as I have then?”

“I'm sure you've heard the whole thing,” you said. “Yunho has withheld one of the tracks from me, but I've listened to all the rest.”

He cocked his head to the side. “Oh? Which track did—oh.” As he and Yunho made eye contact, you watched as a silent understanding passed between them, and Hongjoong's mouth tugged upward in a teasing smile. “That song.”

You blinked. “What does that mean?”

Hongjoong flourished his hand as if to wave away the thought. “He just wanted it to be perfect, so we were working on it up to the last second. Nothing terribly concerning.”

Ah. You relaxed, but the curiosity still lingered in your mind's eye. “I'm sure it's great, nonetheless.”

“Oh yeah, you're gonna love—”

“Oh-kay! That's enough about the song,” Yunho chuckled nervously as he grabbed your shoulders and began steering you away from a clearly amused Hongjoong. “Let's go say hi to Mingi, hm?”

You threw him a look from over your shoulder, but went along with him toward wherever he'd seen Mingi wandering around. “What has gotten into you tonight?” You teased, though, you also hoped to know why he was so jittery. He wasn't even this nervous about dropping his debut album.

Yunho showed you a bright smile, the same kind of golden-retriever expression that the media knew him well for. It would have been enough if you didn't know him. “Again, it's an important album to me. And the song I added last minute is on the deluxe version, so I wasn't really confident in putting it on the original release.”

“Ah,” you murmured. You reached up to pat the hand that rested on your left shoulder reassuringly. “I'm sure it really is a great song, Yun, and I'm not just saying that. You can make an awful omelet, but you can't make an awful song.”

Your best friend bursted into laughter at the latter comment, and your heart soared to see the genuine smile on his face now. That was your Yunho shining through. “You're right—if I can't scramble eggs, at least I can write a song.”

Over the next hour and a half, Yunho took you on a tour around the room, jumping from friend to friend to introduce you to more of his world. For the most part, however, it felt like an excuse for you to bond with all his friends in teasing him about something or other. But he seemed content enough to see you getting along well with the other people close to him.

He had met plenty of your friends at your work, so it was only fair that you got the same opportunity.

At some point while you were with Wooyoung and San discussing all of the rehearsals for Yunho's upcoming world tour, Hongjoong summoned everyone's attention to announce that it was time to listen to the album. It would be a rather casual affair with the Youth album playing in the background of the party, but you were certain people would minimize their conversations to listen in.

You craned your neck to peer around the crowd to see where Yunho had gone off to. “Wait, guys, did you see where Yunho went?”

Wooyoung and San joined your search, but quickly hustled you into a nearby booth to sit and enjoy the album with your drinks. “He'll find us,” Wooyoung assured you as the three of you slipped into the leather seats. “He wouldn't miss this.”

“He'll at least be here by the last song,” San said offhandedly, his eyebrows wagging up and down.

Your lips parted, your face morphing into feigned offense. “Wait. Did he let you guys listen to the deluxe edition song, too?”

“Maybe,” Wooyoung giggled.

San cooed at your pout. “Awwh, don't take it to heart, Yn-ie. It was supposed to be a surprise for you.”

You raised your drink to your lips, sighing before taking a sip. “Everybody talks about this damn song as if he wrote it for me.”

Unbeknownst to you, the two others at the table exchanged pointed looks between one another when you were looking away. It was a wonder how Yunho was able to keep this all a secret from you. Though, even San and Wooyoung knew how busy you could get nowadays, so perhaps it really was just that easy. Plus, they had all at one point or another been privy to Yunho’s feelings—

“Speak of the Devil,” you perked up at the sight of your best friend emerging from the crowd with the others—Hongjoong, Seonghwa, Mingi, Jongho (vocal coach and album feature), and Yeosang (PR management)—in tow behind him. “We were wondering where you had gone off to.”

Yunho grinned as the lot of them squished into the circular seating arrangement with you, San, and Wooyoung. “Sorry, had to go round everyone up. The album should be queued up and ready to go.” He chose to sit on the end of the booth to your right while everyone else filled it up from the other side.

You offered him a sip of your drink, and he gladly took the glass from you. “So San and Woo were just telling me about how their tour prep is coming. You guys are leaving—what was it—two weeks from now?”

He hummed, smacking his lips as he set the glass back down on the table. “Yeah, it should be just about two weeks,” he said. His arm came up to rest against the back of the booth seat behind you. “You know, you can still come to the first stop with us…” This was said with a very pointed look at you from Yunho, followed by similar expressions from everyone else around the table.

“And you know that day’s when my supervisor holds quarterly meetings that are mandatory,” you shot back. As much as you hated the timing, the day that Yunho and the team planned to fly to their first stop on his world tour, you were required to be present for a very important meeting at work.

The Youth World Tour was something Yunho had been looking forward to and preparing for a long time. Besides working on the Youth album itself, his working hours extended over the past year or so to get ready for this major milestone. You would definitely be able to meet up with them at one of the tour stops, you just weren’t sure which one yet.

Things at your workplace were a little rocky as of late due to shifting management, but you would play it by ear. For your best friend, of course you would make it work somehow.

Your ears pricked up at the sound of strings strumming overhead and your heart leapt out of your ribcage for a moment. “Oh my god, I love this song.”

“You and me both, Yn,” Hongjoong chuckled across the table from you, reaching over so you could bump fists with him, “you’ve got good taste.”

“You’re only saying that because you wrote this one specifically,” Yunho sputtered out a laugh while rolling his eyes.

“It’s a good message,” you said, picking up your drink to take a generous gulp of it. There was a little left at the bottom of the martini glass and you swirled the liquid around before handing it over to Yunho to finish. “I think this one will definitely make it onto my work playlist.”

Yunho draped the back of his hand over his forehead, setting the now empty glass on the table. “Wow, relegated to the work playlist. Is that all I am to you?”

“You are a mood maker,” you pointed out with a teasing smile.

“Bro, you're complaining as if Yn doesn't put her work playlist on for everything she does.” Mingi arched his brows over the rims of his sunglasses. (Why was he wearing sunglasses indoors and at night? You didn't know; he said something about looking cool.)

Wooyoung chuckled. “What? So let's say you're trying to sleep—”

“Yah, I have a different playlist for that! I'm not completely unreasonable.”

“Completely,” Yunho and Mingi said at the same time, then looked at each other with wide, excited eyes. They bursted out laughing at once, too, leaving you to deadpan at the two clowns to your eleven o'clock and three o'clock.

You sighed. “I hate you guys.”

That only made them laugh louder, spurring on the others to crack smiles and for you to do the same.

Yunho calmed slightly, his cheeks hurting from smiling. “Aw, you walked right into that one, Yn.”

“So you're saying you are, in some capacity, unreasonable—oh my god, don't hurt me!” Mingi shrieked as he shoved Yeosang's body in front of him like a human shield as you lurched forward and threatened to grab him.

Yeosang sent Mingi a dirty look as he wrestled out of his neighbor's hold. “Dude.”

“Jongho, protect me.”

The vocal coach popped the olive from his martini into his mouth. “If you can't handle the heat, hyung, stay out of the kitchen.”

You nodded, raising your pointer finger up. “Exactly.”

For the next hour, you and your friends shared good company and conversation, while also commenting on, praising, and enjoying the tunes from Yunho's Youth album. There were a good thirteen songs featured on the album, and while most of them were inspired by real life, you remembered the days and nights when Yunho would break out the white board under his bed to draw out a concept map of the storyline he'd created in his head for some songs. It was like a miniature Easter egg hunt for fans to piece together from album to album.

When the clock hit nearly midnight, you recognized the song that marked the end of the conventional album—track number thirteen, 22. It was a song that reflected and lamented on his early stages of adulthood, all the goods and bads, all the hopes and dreams he had left. It was something that tied the regular album with a satisfying bow, but you were also giddy to hear the secret fourteenth deluxe track.

But as his ethereal voice from 22 faded out, the same guitar chords from the first song of the album began to play.

Everyone at the table paused in confusion.

“Uhh, I thought you were revealing the hidden track tonight, Yunho?” Seonghwa asked from across the table.

Yunho tilted his body out of the booth to peer into the sound booth at the very back of the lounge, a furrow in his brow. “I thought I was, too,” he said as he stood up. “I’ll be back in a sec.”

Before anyone else could say anything, Yunho disappeared past the door to the sound booth. You frowned as Hongjoong excused himself to catch up with him, mumbling something about helping with any technical difficulties.

In retrospect, it wouldn't be the biggest deal if you didn't get to hear the song tonight. You would simply listen to it when the deluxe album dropped in about a week, but you wouldn't deny that you were a little disappointed. Everyone else at this table had already listened to it—why had Yunho not shared it with you yet? Did he think you would judge him or not like it? You didn't think you were ever so harsh a critic, but that would explain why he was so nervous all night.

Regardless, you remained positive.

When Yunho and Hongjoong returned to the table, the rest of you all looked on to them expectantly.

“Something wacky is going on with the system right now and won't play the file for the hidden track,” Hongjoong huffed. He passed Yunho a sidelong glance, and you saw how Yunho avoided his friend's eyes like the plague. “Sorry to disappoint, Yn.”

Everyone's attention whipped toward you, and you straightened like a deer caught in headlights. “Oh, uhm, it's no biggie,” you said. You glanced over at Yunho who, if anything, seemed guilty. Or maybe it was just something apologetic. “Really—I can wait for it to drop officially.”

You didn't like how the air seemed to shift during this exchange, as if all the other boys were sitting on the edges of their seats, faces morphed into mixed ranges of confusion and disbelief.

You cleared your throat. “Anyone want more drinks?”

As the night waned and the party came to a close, you found yourself being helped into another Uber car to head home. After the supposed tech glitch, the remainder of the party passed by without a hitch. At the very end, Yunho popped open a theatrical bottle of champagne for all his guests to close out the celebration.

The backseat door closed just as Yunho ducked in with you, his hand waving out the window to San, Wooyoung, and Jongho passing by along the curb.

The alcohol had gradually made its way to your brain, and there was a light buzzing at the base of your skull that made you feel all warm and fuzzy. You yawned, leaning your head against Yunho's shoulder.

He chuckled, one of his hands coming up to gently pat your head. “Tired?”

“Mhm,” you hummed as your eyelids fluttered closed. “You didn't have to lie, y'know.”

You felt his shoulder tense under your cheek. If only you could feel the rapid beating in his chest, then he'd be as good as done.

“I don't know what you're talking about,” he replied innocently, nimble fingers running over the chain links of his wristwatch.

Your eyes cracked open slowly. “Yunho.”

A beat passed, then he sighed. “Are you mad?” He asked quietly and his hand nearest to you found yours as he began to mindlessly inspect the chipped nail polish on your fingertips.

“No, silly. Why would I be mad?” When he didn't respond right away, you let out an exhale of your own. “I mean, I could tell you were nervous about me listening to the song all night. And if you weren't ready for me to listen to it yet, then I totally get that, and I'm okay with waiting. I just would rather you tell me that instead of make Hongjoong lie for you.”

He stopped playing with your fingers. “I'm sorry, for the record. Thank you for understanding.”

You hummed in reply.

The drive continued on with the accompaniment of a random radio station playing on low volume. You weren't going to fall asleep just yet with the alcohol still working its way through your system, but you kept your eyes closed nonetheless.

“I missed you, you know?” Were his first words to break the next silence.

A small smile wormed its way onto your face. “I missed you, too. I feel like we haven't seen each other in forever.”

He chuckled, the low sound rumbling through his chest and into your ear. “Texting can only take us so far. Isn't that crazy? We can't even survive a week without hanging out, but we're… we're about to be separated for so much longer timewise and distance-wise.”

You grumbled. “Don't remind me—wait. Has it really only been a week?” You peeked one eye open, a frown coming to your lips. “No way.”

Yunho smiled, shaking his head. “Believe it or not, stargirl. It's been only a week.”

“In-fucking-sane.”

“You're telling me.”

“How are we going to survive?” You pondered aloud, genuinely. If you couldn't fly out to see him within the first handful of tour stops, you and Yunho at the soonest wouldn't be able to see each other for three weeks. And if you couldn't escape your work duties and your PhD responsibilities, then it would be longer than that. “You're gonna have a closer relationship with your Valorant account than me.”

Yunho snorted. “I already have a closer relationship with my Valorant account than you.”

“Shucks.” You breathed out. “Guess I'll just text Hongjoong then. You know what he told me tonight when we were exchanging numbers? All eight of you nerds have a group chat and he gets ignored like a mom in a family chatroom.”

Your comment made a laugh tumble out of Yunho's mouth. “Did he make that analogy?”

“No, Seonghwa did when he overheard.”

A wheeze. “That tracks.” Yunho licked his lips as he turned his head slightly to glance down at you leaning on his shoulder. With his free hand, he warmed his palm over your head like he could keep you here forever. “So what's this about texting Joong?”

You shifted your position to get more comfortable and clung to his arm to press yourself closer. There was still a little ways to go before you reached your apartment. “I told him offhandedly that I wanna pick up a new hobby… something about crocheting or something, and apparently that guy is like… amazing at everything, so he's gonna help me out.”

“Ah.” The sound was quiet. “I'm glad you guys got along.”

You smiled to yourself. “Me too. He's really cool.”

“Not cooler than me though, right?”

You blindly reached over to pat his chest in warm reassurance. “Don't worry, big guy. I guess you're still the coolest guy I know.”

He clicked his tongue at you with a weak chiding, “Yah. You only guess? Don't tell Mingi that.”

“Oh, I wouldn't dream of it.”

The Uber eventually pulled up along the curb outside your apartment complex. You lifted your head up from Yunho's shoulder and woke yourself up with a good stretch of your limbs.

He helped you out of the car, handing you your purse when you finally got your bearings. “Are you sure I can't walk you up? You look like your knees are about to buckle,” he chuckled.

You shook your head. The cool evening air was helping your brain to sober up. “No, no. Don't worry about it—I’m not as drunk as that one year.”

“Dear heart, how could I forget,” he teased. “Mingi still has the recording of when you begged to be bridal carried.”

Your face warmed at his mention of that memory and you wrinkled your nose at him. “I was gonna say ‘I love you’ along with goodnight, but I suppose not.”

Yunho froze. “What?”

Maybe you really weren't sobering up, because you didn't catch his strange reaction. “Nevermind,” you said flippantly. “Love you, Yun. Good night. Get home safe!”

He seemed to unfreeze, his lungs filling with breath again. A soft smile melted onto his pretty lips as he looked on toward you with a warm fondness. “Love you, too. Good night, Yn.”

He remained where he was outside the car door as he watched you dig your keys out from your purse and open the complex door. When you had one foot inside, you stopped, and turned back to him with a big grin on your face. “Hey!”

“Hey?” He laughed.

“I'm proud of you.”

For the thousandth time tonight, you made him lose his breath, his hold on reality. He swallowed—he wanted to kiss you. “I love you. Get some rest, stargirl.”

You waved to him in reply and he waved back. Then you disappeared through the door and left him there, his heart full and beating fast, the longing in his chest weighing heavier than before.

When you and Yunho were thirteen, you spent the longest period of time away from each other for the rest of your lives. It measured to about one summer break long when Yunho flew to South Korea to spend the entire vacation there and you could do nothing but chat with him via good, old fashioned e-mail.

Now that the two of you were older, even a couple days dragged on like an eternity. And because of your clashing and stacked schedules, a couple days almost always bled into a week.

A week since the release of Youth marked the inevitable release of its deluxe edition and the ever mysterious fourteenth track.

“Yn, wait, can you just help me finish this set of primers?”

You were this close to escaping the lab before one of your colleagues caught you. Taking a deep breath, you resolved to turn back and help them out. One less thing to worry about later, right? You could still listen to the track once you got home.

Except you couldn't, at least not right away. You saw the email on the bus ride home:

Hello TAs! One of your peers has unfortunately been involved in a motorbike accident early this evening. We have been informed that they will recover to full health, but because they are hospitalized, we will need to redistribute responsibilities regarding grades and as to who will cover their TA sections…

You skimmed down the email's contents, knowing you wouldn't be the one filling in as an actual TA. Because you were a first year graduate student in your first quarter, you opted to start off with grading work for now. But even if you didn't have to deal with a whole section of undergraduates, you could feel the blood drain from your face.

“You've gotta be shitting me,” you said, then slapped your hand over your mouth once you realized you'd said that aloud. You mouthed a sheepish “sorry” to a parent and her child nearby, then ducked your head to look at the contents once more.

There was no way they wanted—no, needed—all of those graded by tonight.

This was cruel and unusual punishment, but you knew you were going to do it anyway.

By the time you finished grading, shoveled dinner into your mouth, and took a therapeutically scalding hot shower, it was sometime past two in the morning. Thank fuck it was Saturday.

It was less than twelve hours later that you settled into the passenger seat of Yunho's Lexus sedan with a pair of shades covering your dehydrated, puffy eyes from the world and whatever paparazzi was stalking his car. Yunho glanced over at you with barely concealed amusement. “Well, good morning, princess.”

“You can't see it but I'm glaring at you,” you grunted as you strapped yourself in with the seatbelt. “I can't believe you wake up before noon now.”

“Unfortunately,” he chuckled, peeling his car away from the curb. After an unsatisfactory six hours of sleep, Yunho had woken you up with the obnoxiously loud sound of your phone ringing. You managed to negotiate for him to pick you up in two hours rather than half an hour—and now here you were. You never truly considered yourself a breakfast person and you would have happily slept all the way to lunch, but even through the exhaustion, you wanted to see him as much as he wanted to see you.

He would be gone by the end of the week, after all.

You leaned your head back against the headrest. “I used to have to lure you out of bed with the smell of bacon. Remember when you ate that entire plate of raw-ass bacon and pancake batter that Mingi made?”

Yunho let out a loud laugh that made you smile. He glanced over at you. “Bro,” he sighed, shaking his head, “you know I'll eat anything. Oh my gosh, I will never forget the horrified look on your face when you came out of the bathroom and found out what happened.”

“You looked like a kicked puppy when I told you that you shouldn't have eaten raw bacon,” you snorted. You'd felt so awful that Yunho was such a good eater who didn't complain; he didn't have any negative side effects afterward, thankfully, but you swore to never let Mingi in the kitchen or to let Mingi feed Yunho ever again, so long as you lived.

There was a café a few minutes drive from your apartment complex that the two of you liked to go to. It was a little hole in the wall, located on the second floor above a pet shelter, and the entrance could only be accessed through the stairs in the next-door alleyway.

Yunho adjusted the beanie over his bangs and you shifted your sunglasses up to the top of your head as you entered the establishment. There were a few people seated in the area to the right, but something you liked about this place was its hidden gem quality. (And the drinks and food they served, of course.)

“Hi, welcome in!” The barista behind the counter called before ducking behind the espresso machine. “Give me two seconds, and I'll be right with you.”

“No worries, take your time,” Yunho chirped back as he scoured the menu, eyes squinting and tongue darting out to wet his lips.

You had a general idea of what you wanted already, and you let Yunho know what it was before slipping off into the restroom.

By the time you emerged from the back hallway where the washrooms were, Yunho had finished ordering and was standing by one of the open two-seater tables by the far window with the soft autumn sunlight painting over his features. For a second, you stood at the opening of the hallway, just admiring him. Perhaps it was the lack of sleep making you envision the sunlight dancing around him as he sat down in one of the seats.

Heat rushed up your neck as your eyes met across the café. Gazes locked, you stood frozen, but a smile bloomed on your best friend's face like the coming of spring. It was the most beautiful thing you'd ever seen.

And then he made a face, cocking his head to the side like a puppy with a question. 'Why are you just standing there?’ He seemed to ask.

You shook yourself out of whatever strange daze you'd slipped into, then walked over to join him.

“You okay?” He asked as you took the seat across from him, a teasing lilt to his voice, yet there was still concern in the curve of his mouth.

You waved said concern away. “Yeah. I think I'm still waking up or something.”

“Ah,” he nodded in understanding. He frowned. “What time did you go to sleep last night?”

“Like… some time past two.” On cue, you let out a large yawn, lifting your sleeve up to cover your mouth. “It's okay. I'll just sleep early tonight or something. One of the other TAs got into an accident, so we just had to do some make-up work and I just happened to get home late as it was.”

You could already see the guilt manifest on his face for waking you up, and you were swift to add, “I'll be fine with food and coffee, so 's alright. What about you? How'd you sleep last night?”

“I slept decently,” he replied, leaning forward to rest his cheek against his fist. “I didn't end up dropping the deluxe album, so it was a little more restful than—”

Your brain took a second to catch up. The… the deluxe album… oh. Your eyes went from half-mast to wide open. “You—you didn't release the deluxe? Sorry, I was so busy yesterday that I didn't check my socials.”

“Don't worry about it,” he said with a sheepish smile. “But yeah, I told my manager that I still wasn't ready to release it to the public just yet. I don't know when I'll postpone it to, but it probably won't come out until while I'm on tour.”

Ah. There was that disappointment settling in the pit of your stomach again. This wasn't about you, but why did it seem like he was avoiding your eventual listening to this song? He was almost always sending you audio files without prompting, so what made this one different?

Nonetheless, it wasn't your song. You would respect Yunho's privacy if he wanted to keep this one to himself and his friends.

You unconsciously rubbed your arm. “Oh okay. Yeah, I mean—take your time, Yun. I'm glad you don't feel pressured to release it when you aren't ready.”

His expression softened to something tender that made your chest feel fuzzy. “You'll listen to it soon, I promise.”

The barista called out Yunho's order number, and your friend stood up to go retrieve it. You sighed as you fiddled with the sleeve of your shirt and peered over your shoulder as a pair of newcomers asked him for his autograph and a picture. You watched the pleasant smile spread on Yunho's face as he conversed with them as easy as breathing air, alongside the faint blush over his cheekbones.

No, you didn't know what had gotten into you this morning.

“No, no. You have to loop it through this piece here—yeah, there you go.”

You were so concentrated on following Hongjoong's directions that you didn't even register the sound of Yunho's front door opening and closing. Hongjoong clicked his tongue and scooted closer so he could direct your hands and the crochet hook himself.

“Uhm… hey?”

Both yours and Hongjoong's heads whipped up at the sound of Yunho's confusion. He stood at the entrance to the living room area where, scattered all around you and Hongjoong, were clothes, toiletries, and other essentials laid out for Yunho to throw into his bags.

Tonight marked the evening before Yunho and the team were to set off on the Youth World Tour. Tomorrow, they would fly out sometime in the afternoon, which meant that you would have time to send them off before heading to work and class. However, because you hadn't seen Yunho since this past Saturday when he dragged your ass out of bed for breakfast, you invited yourself over to his apartment to oversee his packing. Hongjoong just so happened to be swinging by Yunho's apartment and you asked if he was up for an impromptu crocheting lesson.

Hongjoong arrived some time while Yunho ran out to the Chinese place down the block to grab dinner, and the two of you had been hunched over the ball of yarn and hook ever since.

“Oh, you're back!” You exclaimed. In your distracted state, Hongjoong took the opportunity to take the crochet piece from you and subtly fix the mistakes you made.

Yunho's brows creased, eyes darting from you to Hongjoong as he slowly placed the takeout bags on the semi-cleared coffee table. “Yeah… Joong, when did you get here?”

You leaned forward to help clear off the rest of the coffee table and to also assist in unpacking all of the takeout containers. Yunho shucked the baseball cap he was wearing off to the side, carding a hand through his dark locks.

“Like… seven minutes ago,” he replied cheekily. His mouth curled into something mischievous as he locked eyes with Yunho. “I can leave, though, if you wanted to be alone—”

“Hyung—”

“I'm messing with you,” he snickered as he handed you the yarn and hook. “I only came by to drop off the emergency backup files hard drive and to give Yn-ie a sneak peek of her crocheting lessons to come.”

(Yunho's eyes narrowed a millimeter. Yn-ie?)

You set the unfinished crochet square down on the couch to walk Hongjoong to the door. “Are we still on for tomorrow, by the way?”

“What's tomorrow?” Yunho twisted around where he was seated on the floor to watch you and Hongjoong make your way to the front door.

“You,” said Hongjoong with raised eyebrows at your best friend, “are going on a plane with everyone else. Because I'm not leaving until the day after tomorrow, Yn and I are bonding over lunch after we see you all off.”

You and Hongjoong finished up finalizing plans in the doorway, followed by amiable farewells. Yunho called out a “good night” to his friend as Hongjoong slipped out the door, and left you and him to the apartment by yourselves.

You claimed the spot on the floor next to him and accepted the pair of wooden chopsticks he extended to you. “I'm sorry if I wasn't supposed to invite him in. I probably should've asked,” you said sheepishly as you snapped the chopsticks apart.

“Oh, no, he's been over quite a few times, so it's all good,” he replied swiftly. “I just didn't expect you two to be so close.” He added a laugh at the end that sounded more nervous to him than it was supposed to.

“We've been texting back and forth, but I guess so. Nothing like the two of you,” you jested, lifting your eyebrows up and bumping your elbow against his.

Yunho grinned. “What's that supposed to mean?”

“You guys spend all that time together in the studio—WHA—NO! Keep those hands to yourself!” You shrieked, rolling out of the way to dodge his hands that threatened to tickle you into submission. Yunho had thrown his head back in a carefree laugh, a beautiful expression in itself, that had you reciprocating.

When you were sure he wasn't going to attack you (affectionately), you scooted back over to your original spot next to him. He smiled to himself at the sidelong glance you casted him, and he went and grabbed one carton of rice for himself and the other for you.

“Thank you for dinner, by the way,” you told him as you opened up your carton, his somehow already opened and spilling over with food.

You once again caught him with his mouth full, and Yunho swallowed the bite of food he had before replying. “Yeah, man. Of course.”

“I swear that I will definitely get the next meal we have—”

“Yn.” He touched the back of his hand against your arm to draw your attention to him. “You literally were the one to make sure I made it out of college alive, like, I can never thank you enough for how much you did for me then and continue to do for me now.”

You swallowed, suddenly blown back by the way he looked at you right now. “I did it because I care about you, Yun. It's not something I expect to be repaid for.”

“I know,” he said with a nod, lips pulled into a tender smile that made your stomach do flips. This was the look no one else got to see from him. Sure, he could fill stadiums of people who would see his big, bright grin that shone brighter than the sun, but… but this one, this smile, was yours. “That goes the same toward this meal, okay?”

Yunho notched his finger under your chin and tilted your head up slightly to meet his eyes. “Don't worry about it.”

You set your carton of rice and chopsticks on the table, he copied your movements, and you wrapped each other in your mutual embraces. The startling realization that you wouldn't see him for longer than a week from tomorrow onward rushed toward you like the coming of a tide to shore. Before you knew it, the water was up to your knees, and you—what were you going to do without him here?

“I miss you already,” you whispered.

You felt him squeeze you tighter, nose pressed against the side of your neck. “I won't be gone too long.” A promise.

“Thank god Seonghwa and Wooyoung can cook.” At the sound of his snort from above your head, you squawked out in your defense, “Who else is gonna make you bacon and pancakes in the morning when you’re dead tired?”

“Hey! I can fry bacon, I’ll have you know!”

You pulled away from him so he could see the look of pure disbelief on your face. “Okay, rockstar. I believe you.”

He scrunched his nose up at you. “That’s not very convincing.”

“I’m glad we’re on the same page.”

Yunho scoffed, reaching over to flick your nose. You let out a sound of indignation and rubbed your nose, a scowl on your face at Yunho’s very pleased expression. And even if you were currently conspiring on how to get back at him, you couldn’t help but resolve something right that second—you would do everything in your power to see his show in two weeks’ time—to see Yunho in two weeks’ time.

The thing about cheap plane tickets was that the cheaper you bought them, the less “amenities” that it came with. The one you’d purchased specifically for two weeks in the future did not allow you a refund. This meant that if something were to arise, you would be a good several hundred dollars poorer, and your plans to surprise Yunho at his show would fall completely through the floor.

Good thing you weren’t about to let that happen, right? …Right?

“You’re sick.” Those were your roommate Trinity’s first words to you as you stumbled out of your bedroom and found her perched on one of the stools at the kitchen counter. She fixed you with an unimpressed look as she stirred around her morning coffee.

“I’m not—” Your own response was cut off by one very untimely cough into your elbow. You wrinkled your nose at the metallic taste at the back of your throat. Great. “—sick.”

“And I’m Oprah,” she deadpanned.

“You could be.” Did you really sound as much like a dying walrus as you thought you did? Holy shit.

She stood up from her stool, setting her coffee cup on the counter, then walked over to you to direct you back into your room. “I’m not permitting you exit from this apartment until you're better. Back to bed with you.”

“But—”

“No buts! If you wanna still be able to fly by the end of this week, then you have to get better, Yn.”

You really, unfortunately, could not argue with that. Nearly a week and a half had passed since Yunho started touring. Opening night had been a massive success, as you’d seen the broadcast and read the reviews on social media. In the concert photos and videos slowly being released online, there was no doubt in your mind that Yunho belonged onstage. He was radiant as a diamond in each depiction of him, and he sounded better and better each night.

Suffice to say, you were beyond proud and happy for him.

In order to make your surprise successful, you informed Yunho’s team of your plans so they could help you get into the concert once you arrived. Your part consisted mainly of finishing all of your work ahead of schedule so you weren’t swamped when you got back. It was nearing the end of the term, meaning there was lots to grade and study, but when you had a goal, you were determined.

The only downside was that, between the long days and nights of work, your body couldn’t fight against the swift rush of early winter air that swept through the city in the past week. Your working hours stretched out longer and longer until your body just… gave up. Or at least, it was giving up.

After calling in sick to your workplace, you crashed back into bed for what you hoped to be a restful nap. Maybe when you woke up, this would all just turn out to be a 24-hour fever.

(It was not a 24-hour fever.)

You didn't even know what time it was when you woke up groggy and your head pounding like there was an active construction site taking place in your skull. Your bedroom was dark, and the world outside your window was also dark. The sound of your phone ringing drilled into your cranium, and you groaned as you felt around your mess of blankets and sheets for wherever that damned thing was—

“Hello?” You croaked into the receiver when you finally grabbed ahold of your phone.

There was a pause on the other end, and you were about to ask who it was when they responded. “Oh my god. You're sick.”

Your heart leapt into your throat at the sound of your best friend's voice and you shoved your face into the pillow. “I'm not sick.”

“Yn, sweetheart, you literally have the sexy sick voice.”

“You think I'm sexy?” You asked in a drowsy, unwell daze. “But anyways, I'm not—” You lifted your face into your elbow in time to practically hack out your lungs. You groaned. “Okay, maybe I am sick.”

Could things get any worse?

You could hear the frown in his voice. “You sound like my worst nightmare.”

“Am I sexy or your worst nightmare? You need to pick an adjective.” You whimpered as you struggled to pull yourself up into a sitting position.

“At least I know it did nothing to that attitude of yours,” he laughed. He sobered for a moment when he heard you groan as the blood rushed to your head. “Hey, do you have meds with you? I can order some and have them there in half an hour.”

You waved him off, even though he wouldn't be able to see. “No, it's okay. I should have taken an ibuprofen before I crashed. I'm sure we've got extra Nyquil around here somewhere…”

You attempted to stand up, a swear falling from your mouth as the vertigo hit you and sent you tumbling back down onto the edge of the bed.

“Yn, I'm sending you medicine—and dinner. That one bistro near your apartment is still open, right? I'll let Trinity know that deliveries are on the—Yn?”

You lifted your head and broke out of your return to unconsciousness. “Hm? Sorry… I did not hear anything you just said.” You rubbed your hand down your face and scooped your phone up to make your way out of your room. You somehow made it to the door, and you leaned against the doorjamb as you pushed out into the dark hallway. “You don't have to send anything, Yun. Trinity's studying for her law school finals, so I don't wanna bother her. Plus…”

You opened up the medicine cabinet in the bathroom and bit back a sigh of disappointment. No cold medicine. There was pain medication, at least, so that should hopefully help you fall asleep again.

At your lack of words, Yunho asked, “No medicine?”

“No, I have some medicine,” you countered. “Just—not the right ones.” Before you could swallow any pills, you hacked out another lung into your elbow; you swore your coughs were sounding worse and worse.

“You know what? I'm flying home—”

You slammed the pill bottle on the bathroom counter. “Don't—what? Yunho, do not fly home. It's literally just a little—” You coughed, “—cold. You have another show in two days. If you show up on my doorstep, I'm not opening the door.”

From the silence on his end, you knew he wasn't in total agreement with you. Maybe the bottle slamming was a little much, but his statement had surprised you. It didn't make sense for him to drop everything for you when you were experiencing something so trivial as a cold.

Not unkindly, you said to him, “I appreciate the concern, but you have bigger things to worry about and care about.”

“You will always be the most important thing I care about.”

His admission was so sincere that your heart gave a violent palpitation in your chest. You struggled to swallow, and it wasn't just because your throat was sore. “And I feel the same way about you,” you murmured, “but I can take care of myself, okay? I'll be back to normal in no time.”

You heard a sigh from his end. “I know; you're right. I just… wish I was there with you right now.”

You could understand that—it was how you felt. But some things couldn't be helped, and Yunho needed to be where he was and you needed to be where you were. You could hold down the fort while he was gone taking over the world by storm.

You closed the bathroom door to give an extra barrier between your voice and where Trinity was studying in her room. After knocking back a couple painkillers, you seated yourself on the floor with your back against the bathtub and your knees pulled up to your chest. “You know what's kind of ironic?” You coughed into your elbow and wrestled down another one bubbling up in your throat. You shouldn't have been speaking so much, but you could deal with the repercussions later. “I think I freaked out when you said you were going to fly home, not just because that's insane, but also because I was going to surprise you by flying out to your show in a couple days.”

He sucked in a breath. “You were gonna come surprise me?”

“Yeah,” you muttered, swiping at your nose and tucking your chin to your knees. Then you had to go and screw it all up, and you couldn't even get your money back. You pretty much accepted that you weren't going to be better by the time the day rolled around, especially not for travel. “I'm sorry I couldn't come see you.”

“No, don't be sorry!” He cooed. “I'm—I’m really sorry you're sick and I'm sad you couldn't make it, but… but think of it this way, hm? As soon as you get better, I'll fly you out to whatever city I'm in and we can hang out and you can come to the concert. All you have to do is get better for me.”

You didn't know if your schedule would allow after this setback, but you were going to remain optimistic. With a small glimmer of hope peering through your chest, you replied, “Okay.”

“Okay,” he said, and you could hear the fond smile in his voice.

“By the way,” you began, and had to clear your throat from how congested it was getting. Maybe some hot tea would do you good. You clambered to your feet to get out of this bathroom and do just that. “Was there a reason you called originally or was it just to say hi?”

A beat of hesitation passed between your question and his answer. “Ah…” There was a wince in his voice, “I, uhm, called because I wanted to know if you'd seen something online, but obviously you haven't 'cause you were asleep, but…”

Seen something online? Your movements with your electric kettle paused. Had someone posted something about Yunho? “What is it, Yun?” Who's ass did you need to beat?

“Seonghwa hyung found out that someone leaked the hidden track online a few hours ago.”

You leaned your cheek against your palm, eyebrows knitting together. “Shit, dude. I'm so sorry,” you said with a frown. That meant some rando on the internet had hacked into someone's files and leaked the song.

A sharp exhale from Yunho's end. “Yeah, I dunno. We're working on getting it taken down right now, but in the event it can't be done soon enough, I think I'm just gonna release the deluxe version in a couple hours.”

It seemed by his response that it wasn't the hacking that was his primary concern. Leaked, unreleased songs happened to every major artist in the industry, and it had most definitely happened to Yunho before this. But this time… this time felt different. You knew how hesitant he was to release this, and having the track get released to the public on terms that weren't his? Well, that just wasn't fair.

“You don't,” you said softly, reaching for a mug in the top cabinet to plop your tea bag into, “have to release it officially right now. You can still wait until you're comfortable.”

You heard sounds of shuffling on his end, followed by the sound of a door opening. You thought you heard Yeosang's voice as he murmured something to Yunho. The exchange was swift, but it reminded you that your time with your best friend here was limited.

“Do you need to go?” You asked, trying to cover up your hope that he didn't have to with nonchalance.

He hummed. “It's okay, I have a few minutes left. They want me to 'okay’ a couple things out on set, but that can wait. Uhm… as for what you said about releasing it—I,” he sighed, “I think this was the push I needed to finally drop it, y'know? I think either way I was going to be scared for—for people to hear it—for you to hear it. But uhm… yeah. That's all I wanted to say. I think it'll probably be released whenever you wake up.”

You poured the hot water of your tea bag, setting the kettle down gently. Letting the steam rise up to help clear your congestion, you could finally think a little clearer now. “I'm sorry this didn't happen on your terms.”

“I appreciate that. I hope you like the song—I… I really hope you like the song.”

A smile tugged at the corners of your lips. “I'm going to like the song, rockstar. You have nothing to worry about, I promise.”

He let out a small laugh and the sound of his happiness, however big or small, made your chest feel heavy. “I’ve missed you so much,” he rasped out. “So much.”

You pressed your forehead to your fist, willing the prickling feeling of tears at bay. “I wish I was there—I’ve wished I was there with you the moment you left. But I'm so, so proud of you. I know I've said this before, but you belong on that stage, Yunho. I'll be there… I'm always there in spirit.”

“You can't say that and expect me not to fly my ass home right now.”

You sputtered out a laugh, which was probably a bad idea, because it led to an utter disaster of a coughing fit. When you finally managed to get a reign on things, you picked up your mug of tea and took a couple ginger sips. It was still piping hot, but whatever scalding temperature it was at somehow soothed your throat and your head.

You set the cup down. “Again, I'll be there in no time, I promise.”

“You swear on your life?”

You sighed, but you pressed your lips into a smile. “I swear on my life.”

Yunho's departure from this call was imminent, and so you made further promises to get plenty of rest and to take care of yourself. You only did so when he promised to do the same for himself. Just after you both hung up, you received a text message from him: Stay up for five more minutes!! The delivery's almost there.

You huffed out a rough-sounding laugh, and bit your tongue around a smile. Of course he had still ordered you stuff. You shook your head to settle on one of the kitchen stools to nurse your tea and wait for the delivery to get here.

When the driver was safely out of bounds of your door, you poked your head out into the hallway to grab the paper bags seated on your doorstep. You had only expected medicine and maybe dinner, but not only were there cold medicines, orange juice, and hot soup from the bistro down the street, but there was a bouquet of flowers there, too.

Butterflies fluttered in your stomach as you pulled everything into the safety of your apartment. Damn Jeong Yunho and his gestures. It didn't mean anything—they were just Get Well Soon flowers, but why did you kind of wish they were more than that?

The Youth album's fourteenth track entitled your space hit the charts at number two. By the time you woke up, still sick as hell, the track had been officially released for about eight hours. You rolled over in bed to guzzle down half a bottle of water and cold medicine, then grabbed your phone.

It seemed that social media blew up while you were asleep. The deluxe drop was trending under a couple different tags, and based on initial skims, you were happy to report that most had everything good to say about it.

Though, some of the commentary made you pause. He has to be seeing someone, said one user. Look at these lyrics. These could only be produced by a man in love.

You had to swipe out of the app at that point. Instead, you went over to yours, Yunho's, and Mingi's group chat together where Mingi and Yunho had waged a meme war while you were asleep after Mingi wished you a “Get Better Soon” message. You sent back your own meme in response and opened your music streaming app to find track fourteen.

The boys would probably all be asleep by now, so they wouldn't respond any time soon.

You found your space exactly where you thought it would be, at the very bottom of the deluxe album. You sat yourself up against your headboard, plugged your earbuds in, then hit play.

If only you knew how much it would rock your world.

Hongjoong was never wrong about his hunches. It had been about a week and a half since you came down with an awful cold and couldn't make it to your intended surprise show, and slightly less than that since the deluxe album dropped. Even before the tour started, life was a whirlwind, but now that the tour was only ramping up further from this point, it had been nothing short of a total rush.

Different cities every week, at least two nights a city—all of it took a toll on both the staff and artist involved. Hongjoong's hunch, however, regarded the artist in particular as he watched said artist keep his smile up to say goodnight to the remainder of the stadium workers who lingered for cleanup. Yesterday was their last show date in this city, and today, Yunho and his team had come by to help load everything up for transport to their next destination. Tomorrow, they would fly out and be in the next city to begin preparing for the next round.

But as Yunho began making his way toward the exit where Hongjoong was waiting for him, it was impossible to miss the immediate exhaustion that flooded his features. He carded a hand through his hair as he checked his phone, then pocketed it in the back pocket of his pants.

“Hey,” Yunho nodded to Hongjoong as he met him at the exit and they both walked out into the chilly evening together. There was already a car waiting at the curb to take them back to their hotel—there was still so much that needed to be done before they left for the airport tomorrow.

“Hey,” he said back. “Everything okay?”

Yunho glanced over at him. “Huh? Oh, yeah. I'm fine; just tired. I think it's a good thing I started packing before we came here earlier,” he mused. For him to pack early? A miracle.

Hongjoong bobbed his head in understanding. “Yeah, I get that, but that's not really—you know you can be honest with me, right? I know this has all been… a lot.” And Hongjoong would understand; he had been in the public eye for so long now, and all of that could be so incredibly draining. From catering to fans and journalists and sponsors, it could be difficult finding himself amongst all that mess.

Plus, Yunho had the added bit of being away from home for a very long time. From what Hongjoong understood, Yunho only used to tour relatively close to home, and when it was farther, it was during his school breaks. He also knew that you were an integral part of Yunho's sanity, and that even before he reached this level of fame, you were his rock, his anchor, his ground control.

Being away from you for so long was beginning to show. When Hongjoong brought it up offhandedly to Mingi, Mingi was swift to agree.

“I—” Yunho began as he slipped into the passenger seat and Hongjoong into the back of the car. He murmured a soft greeting to the driver before strapping himself in with a seatbelt. “—it definitely has been hard,” he admitted with a sigh. “I don't know, Joong. You know that rush you get while onstage, but it just comes crashing down a couple hours later? Like the adrenaline leaves you all at once and all you crave for is home?”

Hongjoong pursed his lips, watching Yunho lean the side of his head against the window as he watched the world pass by. “Yeah, I do,” he said quietly. “The moments between all the rush and excitement, you're no longer distracted from how much it all is.”

A nod. “Yeah.”

“You miss her?” It was less of a question and more so a statement. Hongjoong's hunches were never incorrect. It was both a blessing and a curse.

Yunho's quiet was answer enough.

Hongjoong played around with the back of his phone case. He knew you had listened to the song—he’d asked Yunho and you'd texted Hongjoong, too. Yunho reported that you gushed about the song and affirmed him in all his choices and lyricism as always, but he was certain that you didn't get it. But when you had run to Hongjoong questioning your own feelings and if Yunho had been scared to tell you if he was in love with someone, Hongjoong could confidently say that you did get it, just not one hundred percent.

There was still miscommunication in the message, but he knew that was only something that the two of you could sort out.

“Have you guys talked since last week?”

“Yeah, we have. She's been…” He pushed a breath out of his mouth, “... She's been working her ass off trying to make up for the amount of time she was sick. I don't even know how she isn't getting sick again. I mean—all the shit she has to weather through—I wish I could help.”

And he couldn't, not like how he wanted to, not from so far away. Maybe that was what was eating him up inside the most, besides the fact he believed his feelings to be unrequited.

The car pulled up to the back entrance of the hotel Yunho and his team were staying at for the time being. The two of them thanked the driver on their way out, and they were swiftly greeted by employees coming out of the back for their breaks.

When they reached the warmth of their hotel floor's hallway, Yunho said to Hongjoong, “I miss her so much.” He shoved his hands into the pockets of his Youth World Tour hoodie, eyes lined in silver. “I worry about her so much, too. I'm sure she worries just as much about me and I know that she's more than capable about taking care of herself—’cause god, she was the one who kept me afloat all these years, and I—”

I love her.

He slapped his key card against the reader and shoved into his hotel room with Hongjoong trailing after with a sympathetic frown on his face.

“It just feels wrong sometimes when I can't be with her. Is that crazy?”

Hongjoong settled a warm hand on Yunho's shoulder as the latter sat down on the edge of his bed. “It's not crazy,” he said. He'd felt like that about a person, once upon a time. After everything Hongjoong had gone through with his last relationship, one might think he didn't believe in love, but he was still clawing for it. He wanted something that he could see manifesting between you and Yunho. He wanted to help you reach that.

He sighed and sat down next to him. “It's completely valid to feel this way, y'know? She's been a huge part of your life and your passions, and for you to see all this without her seems incomplete.”

Yunho nodded. “Yeah.”

“You can go home whenever you want, you realize that?” Hongjoong asked. “We have time built into each week to give you rest days, man. We can make that work.” It might be a little tiring for so much travel, but one trip back wouldn't hurt, especially when it could help his mental state more than simply powering through.

“I know,” he replied. “I don't… I just feel like I want her to see that I can do this, that she didn't put her trust and energy into someone who would fall so fast—”

“Do you seriously believe she would think about you that way?”

Yunho's expression shuddered, and he let out a shaky breath as he shook his head.

Hongjoong arched his brow. “Exactly. She would never fault you for needing a break. Being human is not a sign of weakness, Yunho. She's your best friend—I think she has more forgiveness and compassion for you than that.”

Yunho swallowed. Of course what Hongjoong said was right. You wouldn't look at him any different if he needed a break; it was just a thing about being kinder to himself. But sometimes it was hard to put that into perspective, and perhaps he just needed someone to do that for him.

With no good choice made without a decent night of sleep, Hongjoong bid Yunho goodnight.

As soon as Hongjoong slipped out of his friend's room, he sighed and mentally calculated what time it would be where you were. You should have been awake.

And awake, you definitely were.

You would be lying if you said you hadn't been listening to the song your space on repeat for the past week and a half. Even as you sat in one of the campus dining halls doing work and eating your crappy sandwich for lunch, your headphones were spilling with your best friend's gorgeous croons.

You questioned everything at the same time. You'd figured out two days after you first heard it that you were in love with your best friend.

The lyrics had resonated with you, and you had come to the startling conclusion that you felt the song's meaning toward Yunho.

All you could do since was freak the fuck out and tell Yunho that the song was incredible. You didn't know who the song was for or about, but you knew it was important to him because of how scared he was to release it. Had he been scared to tell you he was in love with someone? Why?

Sometimes you found yourself tearing apart the lyrics like a rabid trash panda.

I couldn't ever leave you behind They couldn't ever take me away Baby, if I could pick a heaven on Earth It would be anywhere in your space.

You broke away from your work and sandwich to the sound of a text notification. Suddenly remembering how loud your vibration ringer was, you silenced it, then opened up Hongjoong's message: I know you're probably moping and eating a shitty sandwich—what. You glanced down at said shitty sandwich that sat in its equally sad plastic container. How did he know…? —and he's not doing well either. He's miserable, dude.

Everything slowed for you, and it was no longer about your so-called epiphany. You felt your entire body and mood drop at the news. You'd seen social media posts commenting on Yunho's stage presence and brightness never fading, but there were always the one or two who noted something along the lines of him seeming too tired or that perhaps he didn't have enough stamina for this.

The latter comments made your blood pressure spike, but there was, unfortunately, some truth to it. You just didn't think it was this bad.

You pressed the backs of your knuckles against your eyes. You hadn't been doing the best, clearly, and you knew that it was largely because you missed him. Being away from someone you considered home for so long meant that you were bound to get homesick.

You didn't know what to do. There was so much work to be done, and you had just caught up. On top of that, you were short a few hundred dollars from the last time you tried to fly out.

Another message buzzed in from Hongjoong: I think you guys really need to talk.

The organ in your chest rattled around in its cage; it longed to be with its partner. You were starting to understand that now.

The song playing in your ear was slowly petering out, and all you could hear was his voice.

And I've kinda been wanting to ask if we can Skip the 'why’ and get to the 'our’ Because baby, I love your space But I love ours more.

Yunho had not flown home that week. Some emergencies had sprung up as soon as they landed in their new city, and all bets were off to be able to go home. All that he could do was buckle down and get comfortable. Even so, he knew how to make the best out of a situation.

As he stood at the very center of the main stage, he held a hand up to shield his eyes from the bright spotlights shining down on him now.

“Is that better?” Hongjoong's voice echoed throughout the near-empty stadium.

From one of the balconies, Jongho cupped his hands up around his mouth to scream at the top of his lungs, “LOOKS GOOD, HYUNG!”

“Jongho,” Yunho chuckled into his microphone, “did someone not get you a headset, bro?”

A beat passed, and then, “NO.”

Mildly amused laughter cropped up around the stadium in reaction to the youngest's troubles. It was little moments like these where Yunho could forget for one second just how tiring all of this amounted to become. His smile was genuine, and his tongue darted out to trace his teeth—

“Jeong Yunho, put your damn tongue away.”

Yunho's eyes went as wide as saucers, his expression morphing into something like childlike surprise as he immediately retracted his tongue into his mouth. But in the split second it took his brain to process the words that had been said, he also recognized the voice who'd said them. From the big screen, any one of the staff members or you could see the way his face stretched into the widest grin possible, his eyes lighting up like spotlights.

He lifted the mic in his hand up to his lips as he tilted his eyes up to the sound and lighting box far up in the stands. From where he was onstage, he could just make out the shape of you in the box next to Hongjoong—the sneaky bastard. “Ln Yn, get your ass down here right now,” he said, hardly able to contain the excitement in his voice.

You didn't need to be told twice.

You raced down the stadium steps from the box, your legs carrying you as fast as humanly possible without falling. Yunho leapt off the stage and left his microphone behind to meet you in the middle.

Somewhere between the pit and mezzanine, you flew into his arms and he caught you, spinning you around. The glee on both of your faces was enough to make everyone stop and appreciate the tangible love before them. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes and you pursed your lips to subdue them. You squeezed him as tight as you possibly could; his arms held you firmly around your waist, head tucked into the joint between your neck and shoulder.

“You're here,” he croaked with tears in his voice now. You heard him sniffle, and only held him tighter. He felt the added strength and let out a sob. “I missed you so much.”

Oh, for fuck's sake—you started bawling like a baby. “I—” you sucked in a breath, “—I heard—so I booked a flight—”

This only caused his body to tremble harder. “Oh god… Yn… I…”

You sniffled and brushed your hand over the back of his head in an attempt to get both of you to calm down. “Hey, don't worry about it, okay? It doesn't matter; you know I'd drop everything for you.” When his only response was to press his wet eyes against the heat of your neck, you blinked away your tears. “Plus, I missed you, too, rockstar.”

Yunho let out a watery laugh, gently setting you down onto solid ground. You both looked like a hot mess and a half: snot dripping out of your noses, eyes red and drowned in salty tears. The adrenaline rush from the surprise had trickled out of your system, but your heartbeat continued to rattle around in your chest with reckless abandon. His messy, damp hair; the wobbly shine in his dark brown irises; the way he smiled at you with that something on his face… he was everything to you.

“Glad to know the feeling's mutual,” he said, nudging you with his elbow, then pawing at his eyes to wipe the tears away.

“Good to see you, Yn!” San piped up from the stage with his microphone. He had picked up Yunho's microphone from where he'd abandoned it to come meet you.

You laughed, lifting a hand up in a wave. “Hey, San! Hi everyone!”

Chimes of greetings from all the other boys and staff members cropped up from all around the arena.

Yunho brushed a hand through his hair and wrapped an arm around your shoulders. “Did all you fuckers know about this?”

Mingi was perched on the ledge of the stage. His grin seemed to be the widest after watching your reunion. He tugged the microphone attached to his earpiece closer to his mouth. “Don't tell us you're not grateful now.”

“Nah, I'm just surprised Wooyoung was able to keep his mouth shut.”

Wooyoung didn't need a microphone to let you all know of his offense. You could hear his squawk of disapproval all the way from where you stood—crazy how acoustics worked.

Yunho heard your laugh from beside him, and he glanced over at you to catch the fond look on your face. He hadn't stopped smiling for the past five minutes, and it didn't matter how much his cheeks hurt. You were here; that was all that mattered.

“This place is—” you marveled as the two of you began walking down the stairs together toward the stage. The backs of your hands brushed against one another, breaths away from touching, from lacing, from being together. “—huge. It's so much more—” You felt your lip wobble again, “I don't even know why I'm getting emotional. It's all you dreamed of as a kid, wasn't it?”

The tears pricked at the edges of his eyes again, and the two of you looked back at each other with equally wet eyes and bright smiles. “Yeah,” he nodded, swiping at his eyes.

“You deserve it.”

“All thanks to you,” he said with a sniffle, hugging you to him again. You were solid and real beneath his fingertips—he was so happy you were here. This was where you belonged; none of this felt right without you.

When you finally reached the bottom of the pit, Yunho had to run back up to the stage, and you went through the aisles until you found your perfect seat. It wasn't long before Mingi bounded up the steps to come join you. He brought you in for a long awaited hug of his own.

“What's good, Yn?” He asked with a soft chuckle as he pulled away and settled in the seat to your left.

Just ahead, Yunho appeared onstage with his microphone in hand, and the two of you lifted your hands in sync to wave to your best friend.

You adjusted your bag in your lap, and clasped a hand on Mingi's shoulder. “This is surreal. Does it feel surreal?”

Mingi's lips pulled into a smile as nostalgia made his vision cloudy. “It does, every single time. I'm glad you're finally here—we’re all very happy that you're here now.”

You bumped your head against his shoulder and let it rest there for a moment, and his hand came up to gently pat your head to tell you he understood. You didn't need to say anything.

For the next hour and a half, you and Mingi got to watch Yunho and everyone else run through the last of the day's lighting checks. Periodically, someone else from Yunho's personal team would come and sit with the two of you, then leave quickly when they had something else on their to-do list.

At last, when the session wrapped up and everyone was sent to go home for an early night, you rushed down to meet with Yunho again.

He waited for you to be at his side before leading you down toward backstage. “There's a couple things I need to grab in my dressing room before we can head back to the hotel.” A thought suddenly interrupted his thoughts and his eyes widened. “Do you have accommodations? Please tell me you do.”

“Don't worry—I promise I'm not sleeping on the streets,” you teased. You'd figured all of that out pretty last minute with Hongjoong and Mingi's help.

Yunho nodded, a smile coming to his face. “Okay, good. I was gonna offer my room and I could sleep on the pullout couch.”

The thought of sleeping in the same room as him made your skin warm, and if you hadn't realized your feelings for him before, you would be confused as to why you were so flustered at the thought now. It wouldn't be the first time you had a sleepover. But this would be… different. Oh lord.

The backstage hallways were scarce and dimly lit in order to save energy, but it was enough to guide you and Yunho's way to the star dressing room. You swallowed as you reached the door—the facade plastered with a pretty, gold star with his name on it—and followed him inside.

“Hey, Yun?” You asked him as you lingered by the door and he rushed around to grab his things. The room was decently spacious, and definitely larger than all the other ones from his past tours.

“Mhm?”

“Could we… talk about something?”

He glanced back over his shoulder as he threw things into his bag. “Yeah, ‘course.”

You toed at the polished ground, fingers twisting and wringing in front of you. “It’s about the song. The, uhm, the your space one.”

His movements paused. He looked up and connected gazes with you through the vanity mirror in front of him. Yunho cleared his throat and ducked his head to zip up his bag. “What—what about it?” He asked, shouldering his bag and meeting you back at the door.

He seemed unable to look you in the eyes directly now as he closed the door behind the both of you as you stepped out into the empty hallway.

“I just,” you stammered. Blood rushed up to your face and you could hear your heartbeat thundering in your ears. “I needed to know—I didn’t need to know—it’s your life and your song, and you have every right to have feelings for someone without me knowing. And I think I’m asking this for selfish reasons, but… are you seeing someone?”

The question caught him off guard, his eyes blowing wide open. “Wh—no. No, I am not seeing anyone. Why do you ask?”

“The song—I know I shouldn’t be indulging in what people on the internet say, much less in the opinions of those who don’t even know you, but I couldn’t help but agree with them when they say the lyrics, the—the feeling of the song—you’re in love, and I—” Your breath caught in your throat as you choked on the words lodged there: And I am in love with you.

Yunho pushed an exhale out of his mouth and stepped toward you. So much shone in his eyes right then, and it didn’t matter how much light there was in this damn hallway, his eyes would always glitter like twin diamonds. “I am in love with someone. Yn, I’m in love with you,” he said. “I thought that the song would make it obvious, which is why I was so scared for you to hear it, but I realize now that this was just something I should have said outright.”

Your heart fluttered in your chest and it wasn’t from the nerves anymore. God, your knees felt like buckling from the force of the tenderness in his eyes alone. “You’re—you’re in love with me?”

“I am,” he nodded. He slowly reached for your hands and clasped them within his own. “I’ve been in love with you since that day you ran out of Science Olympiad practice to come to my audition; I’ve been in love with you from the moment you yelled at me for not being ambidextrous and I had beef jerky in my mouth—”

“I did not yell at you!”

He broke out into a cheeky, yet fond grin, his hand coming up to cup the side of your face with his hand. “I’ve been in love with you for so long that I can’t imagine what life was like before I was in love with you—and yes, you did yell, but you can yell at me as much as you like, and I would still be head-over-heels for you.”

Your lip curled in on itself at all of his words, at everything he was revealing to you now. You wished you had known—oh, god, you wish you had known. You didn’t know if things would have been different, but for some reason, you had a feeling that all paths might have led here nonetheless.

You squeezed his hand between your own now. “You’re everything to me, Jeong Yunho,” you rasped out, unable to put strength behind your voice for fear of all of the emotion about to spill out. “And I’m so stupid for taking so long to figure it all out, but I’m in love with you, too, and I’d be damned if I let another day pass without you knowing that.”

Something washed over him in that moment, and he laughed, leaning over to cup the back of your neck and rest his forehead against your own. It was ridiculous, the fact that both of you were giggling and smiling at such a precipice of emotion, but it felt right.

You could feel the warmth of his breath against your lips as he murmured, “Fuck, I wanna kiss you so bad.”

“Then come kiss me, rockstar,” you said, looping your arms around his neck. You drew him down to your mouth and felt his body mold against your own. Every crevice and curve slotted so perfectly with one another, and the heavy longing in your chest slowly eased.

“You guys have been incredible for me tonight—” Yunho beamed as he walked toward the front, center stage and looped the electric guitar strap over his head to the sound of the roaring crowd, “—so I've got a little surprise for you.”

One of the staff members had set out a mic stand and bottle water for him, and he approached both items to fit the microphone into place. Tonight was the Friday night concert being held in this city, and the energy was dialed to one thousand in all the best ways.

He held onto the microphone with one hand. “This song is dedicated to—written for—my best friend in the world, the love of my life, my stargirl. I'm sure you know it—you crazies debuted it at number two on the charts—this is your space.”

His smile tugged up wider at the reaction he received. If anyone in the crowd didn't know the song, they were about to fall in love.

Yunho laughed, shaking his head, as he began checking to make sure his guitar was tuned with practiced, nimble fingers. “Oh, by the way—” he pointed up at the accessory he wore, the crocheted headband holding his hair up and out of his face, with a row of stars across its band, “—she made this for me. Isn't it cute?”

The stadium echoed in choruses of “aw” and cheers.

He could only duck his head with a smile, eyes twinkling with fondness and tenderness at the thought of you. You were in the crowd, but you could be up here with him in spirit. “Yeah, that was me, too.”

After you and Yunho left the stadium yesterday, hands intertwined and a new page in your relationship turned, you’d gone back to his hotel to share a restful evening in one another’s presences. You revealed later that night that you spent the four or five days you were bedridden practicing your crocheting skills until you were able to make him a headband. A row of three stars studded the length of it—stars for your rockstar.

Yunho struck his fingers down the strings of his guitar with a gentle rocking motion from his opposite hand to let the sound reverberate around the stadium. The crowd cried in love as his soulful, beautiful voice filled their ears with love of his own. And as his fans filed out of the stadium for the night and headed home, Yunho could finally return to his home. Because you were here now… no matter how far, no matter the distance, the two of you would always find a way to be in the other's space.

a/n: pls remember to reblog, comment, and send asks if you enjoyed!

atz m.list

permanent taglist: @flwoie @vatterie @seomisaho @hqrana @ja4hyvn @outrologist @rikizm @tinkerbell460 @meosjinn @hyunjaespresent-deobi @stayarmytinyzenmoa-l @floatingpluto @gyulfriend @jaehunnyy @shakalakaboomboo @soonyoungblr @justanotherkpopstanlol @kangfication @pxppxrminty @fluorescentloves @haechansbbg @jaerisdiction @super-btstrash-posts @jundundun @http-gyu @mvvnsseul @mars101 @kflixnet

#kflixnet #ateez x reader #jeong yunho x reader #yunho x reader #ateez fluff #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #ateez oneshot #ateez drabbles #yunho fluff #yunho oneshot #yunho scenarios #yunho drabble #yunho imagines #ateez fanfic

[reclinepilled]

needy, e.w.

cw: fluff!!! little angst, pet names (baby, beautiful, sweetheart, princess, gorgeous) like one curse word, reader yells at ellie, reader cries a teeny tiny bit, no masc/fem roles are established

desc: gamer!ellie is glued to her game while your patience runs short. also soft!ellie🙏.

a/n: happy march 1st guys! i wanted to share something i wrote while procrastinating some work. thanks for all the support on my last two posts. also the anon that sent in the request, im working on it <3 thank you for reading and reblogs are welcomed and greatly appreciateddd !

wc: 801 (i think)

PLEASE READ HERE ON INFORMATION ABOUT AND HOW TO HELP PALESTINE!!!

you try not to be so needy, you really do. however, your heart can't help but get a little heavy watching ellie completely ignore your presence on one of your days off. and she's not even ignoring you to study or work, it's to play her stupid games.

sure, you played your fair share of video games, as you had an undying love for that one genre. however, you didn't come over under the impression that you'd be getting lonely in her bed, angry, while occasionally letting out a frustrated sigh. she didn't pay attention to those, too busy yelling at her friends on whatever fps shooter she was glued to.

you got angrier and angrier thinking about it and listening to her mash the buttons on her keyboard and throw insults out into her mic. you swear you can feel the annoyance in your bloodstream. you just wanted to do skincare and facemasks, watch some movies, and maybe even bake with your girlfriend. you decide to put your anger aside and give her the benefit of the doubt. you get up from her bed to remind her of what you two had planned. maybe she forgot?

"ellie, baby?" you say as you grab her shoulder softly to get her attention. she glances up at you then moves her headset off one of her ears, "yea- jesse, what the hell! he was literally one hp!" she yells. "anyways, sorry, what's up?" ellie finally gives you two scoops of her attention. "el, i thought we were gonna spend time together..," you say, shifting your weight to one leg as you cross your arms. "yea, yea, of course. just give me five more minutes," ellie says as she turns back to her game. "you literally said that 30 minutes ago, el," you sigh. "i mean it this time," ellie turns to you, doing a puppy face jokingly.

any other time you would burst into a fit of laughter, however right now, you were genuinely pissed off. you stare at her for a few seconds in silence, she stares back. her face slowly drops as she realizes you're pretty upset. next thing you know, you've reached over and put her pc into sleep mode. "y/n! why!??" she whines like a teenage boy going through puberty. "because, i came over on my day off to spend time with you, i could be getting a manicure or something.. but i've spent nearly an hour and a half watching you play this shitty game!" you yell then you walk out of her room, fed up. you grab your bag next to the couch and start to put your belongings away.

"sweetheart! i'm sorry, i really am!" she says as she follows you out of the room. you ignore her, now putting your bag on your shoulder. "look," ellie comes in front of you and softly slides the bag off of your shoulder, she notices how you're still looking down. she gently grabs your shoulders while looking down at you with an apologetic look on her face, "i am so sorry, i just got caught up in the game. i enjoy you being here, and i find your presence so comforting, beautiful. i never meant to make you feel unappreciated, i'm sorry once again." she takes her hand and lifts your face up, and notices your tear stained cheeks.

ellie's heart quite honestly shattered into a million pieces, she didn't know she made you feel so bad but she understands now. "baby, we can do whatever you want," she pulls you into a meaningful embrace while rubbing your back. "els, i love you, sorry for yelling and overreacting-" she cuts you off, "no don't apologize, it was pretty justified, i was being dumb," she lets out an airy laugh, "i love you back, princess."

she could feel you smile against her chest and it felt like 10 tons were lifted off of her back. she pulls away to place a soft kiss on your forehead, then your nose, one on your cheek, and long one on your lips.

you straddle her on her bed while softly chuckling at the cute fuzzy animal headband you placed on ellie's head. you roll the jade roller all over her face, working in the serum you applied before. you can't help but admire how pretty she is. her constellations of freckles, each one so unique, her breathtaking deep eyes, and her long lashes you were so jealous of. little did you know, she was doing the same. you looked like a goddess from this angle, the light cascading down on your perfect figure emphasizing it. "hey baby?" ellie grabs your wrist. "yea, gorgeous?" you slightly lean back from her face, raising a brow.

"it's really hot when you yell at me."

reclinepilled

please do not plagiarize any of my works or post them on other websites without given permission !

#reclinepilled writes <3 #tlou #ellie tlou #ellie x reader #smut #ellie williams fluff #ellie fluff #ellie williams smut #ellie smut #ellie the last of us #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams angst #ellie angst #abby anderson #abby tlou #the last of us

[yveaart]

“you know other girls?” — w seventeen hhu !

🍒cheol

“don’t you think she’s holding onto your arm to close?”

you would fight all your jealous title allegations but u simply cant beat them

“aren’t you the most darling girlfriend ever? so possessive over me love.” he said delivered it with a wide grin.

“whatever” you snorted folding your hands at your chest

“you’re the most jealous woman i’ve ever met babe” he giggle at your form.

oops that was big mistake there. he got u turning your head slowly as your feline glare reaches his physique

“you know other women?” you said in a tamed voice

he knelt beside you showing his starry eyes

“BABE I SWEAR I ONLY KNOW MY MOM!”

🍒mingyu

maybe this one?

mingyu was pointing to some night gown you wanted to buy

it wasn’t hard to get him in, because he would go anywhere if that’s where you were

you had a hard time pushing through the store with multiple ladies and sales women gawking at your boyfriend

we’re they uncomfortable with you bringing him to such store?

that was until a random sales lady got up to your lovely boyfriend and showed him pairs of lingeries, and it seemed like it wasn’t concerning you— the actual customer of the store.

“maybe buy it for me?” the lady gazed at your boyfriend with doe eyes

good to say that your boyfriend snorted so loud that the lady had to back up into the dressing rooms to look for her pride.

“i cant believe she said that to me baby, didn’t she see the gorgeous gorgeous woman beside me?” he smiled at you

you got jealous because who did she think she was to try and take him away from you?

you took his arm and put it around your hip and the other one holding your hand

it was extensive due to the fact that he was bending over u because his tall frame had to encase your smaller one.

“aww love you’re the most jealous woman i know”

“you know other women?” you slowed down in your tracks

“i-uhm WOOF” he took everything you were holding including your bag and carried it as he spent the rest of your time following you around and serving you

and in your mind you knew that you were totally messing with him, because you already lost the doubt the moment he snorted at the sales lady. but he doesn’t have to know that.

🍒vernon

you were walking out of the dance studio picking your boyfriend up for your dinner date

a woman waved at him and he waved back

you walked faster and he noticed that, he started giggling

“you’re the most jealous woman i know” he smiled

“you know other women?” you scowled at him

“i literally have a sister.” he said with a blank expression

“- and a mom, and an aunt, and my grandma”

🍒wonwoo

your boyfriend was playing games on his computer all day since it was his day off

you didn’t mind just the fact you could hear a woman’s voice leaking from his headphones speaking a little too obnoxiously

“who are you talking to?” you asked

you came closer scanning through the players only seeing his other friends

“are you hiding your side chick from me right now ?!” you gasped dramatically

“i literally go straight from work to our house and decay here while i play games love” he said calmly while staring across the screen aggressively clicking through his keyboard

“oh, yeah thats true” it truly did convince you as you started to walk away

“and that was literally seokmin mimicking his character trying to provoke me” he said laughing a bit

“the thing is though… i always win” he smiled as he removed his headphones coming to you for a cuddle

“nobody can provoke me or our relationship” he smiled

you knew that this type of thing is rare so you savored every bit of your clingy bf

#seventeen #seventeen oneshots #seventeen headcannons #seventeen fluff #seventeen scoups #choi seungcheol #seventeen mingyu #kim mingyu #seventeen vernon #vernon #choi hansol #seventeen wonwoo #jeon wonwoo #svt #svt imagines #svt oneshots #svt fluff #svt headcannons #svt x reader #yvesdrabble

[dearlyjun]

— study date 𖤐 choi beomgyu

summary: you and your boyfriend have a homework date to spend time together, but he can’t keep his hands to himself.

pairing: nonidol!/collegeboyfriend!beomgyu x afab!reader

genre: college students au, smut (18+ readers only pls!!)

word count: 1.5k

warnings: beomgyu is very sweet, use of pet names, lots of touching, whimpering, whining, fingering, clitoral stimulation, unprotected sex (umm don’t do this), beomgyu is kind of a menace, swearing, beomgyu hits it from the back lolll, cumshot lol, some kissing but not much surprisingly? oh and glasses beomgyu!!! think that is all.

authors note: I have been having insufferable beomgyu brain rot and I blacked out and wrote this. not proofread because I’m lazy so if you see a mistake no you don’t. I made the reader a stem girly because well, if I do anything it’s gonna be representing my fellow stem girls!! blueprints are kind of boring…

quick links: taglist | masterlist

—

“are you comfortable?” beomgyu sweetly asked you, whilst typing on his computer.

“Mhm.” You hummed, glancing at the time in the bottom right corner of his screen. 10:40pm. “I’m almost finished.”

Both of you were doing homework. Beomgyu typing an essay on his computer, while you were studying blueprints. You were sitting on his lap to keep him company, and you just wanted to be near him. Sometimes with your busy school schedules this was the only time you got to be together; both enjoying each others company while working on assignments.

He reached down, giving your bare thigh a squeeze. It slightly startled you. You placed your hand over his, making him smirk to himself before adjusting his glasses on the bridge of his nose.

“Gyu it’s getting late.” You hoped you could get him to save his file and be done. “Don’t you have an early class tomorrow?”

“No, remember sweetheart?” His voice was right in your ear, making you shift in his lap. “My professor is on vacation. So my class isn’t mandatory tomorrow. I might not even go.”

Beomgyu reached for something on his desk, putting his arm around your waist; his palm landing near your rib cage. His hand placement made you very aware that underneath your loose t shirt, you weren’t wearing a bra.

You looked down at your homework, twirling your pencil and your mind now wandering. Thinking about all of the things that Beomgyu would be doing with his mouth and tongue against your skin. His keyboard clicks were white noise until he cleared his throat, pulling you from your trance.

“Something on your mind?” Beomgyu sweetly kissed you by your ear, shifting in his chair slightly.

“No, just doing math in my head.” You joked, trying to play it off that you actually were doing that.

“Math?” Beomgyu laughed, one of his hands finding purchase on your inner thigh. He knew what he was doing. Damn him. “What kind of math?”

You didn’t really have an answer for him. “Trying to figure out how much time I have left to study for this test.”

“When is it?” Beomgyu asked as his other hand slipped the slightest bit underneath your shirt.

“Next week. Like Wednesday I think?” You desperately tried to ignore him.

There was a moment of silence before Beomgyu leaned close to you, brushing your hair away from your face.

“How long is it going to take for you to tell me what’s really on your mind, hm?”

If it wasn’t for Beomgyu’s hold on you, you swore you could have fallen onto the floor.

“Beomgyu.” Your voice came out whinier than you wanted it to.

“That’s a start.” Beomgyu chuckled to himself, smirking as he kissed behind your ear a few times. “Go on.”

You leaned into him; your back against his chest. “I want you to touch me. Fuck me. Do whatever you want to me.”

You felt Beomgyu suck in a harsh breath. “Such nasty things coming from your mouth. Take your pants off.”

He was referring to your black sweatshorts, which you gladly let fall to the ground.

You were back in his lap, back against his chest like before. Beomgyu quickly saved his paper on his computer, then clicked out of it. He leaned back in his chair, then changed your position on his lap so your legs were open.

You knew you were almost embarrassingly wet for absolutely no reason at all, feeling your arousal close to your inner thighs.

Beomgyu reached down, brushing over your clit through your cotton panties. Your body shuddered. You had no idea you would be this sensitive already.

“So sensitive for me and I haven’t done anything yet.” Beomgyu spoke, his voice low and deep. “Needy for me. I like it.”

He slipped his hand into your panties, dipping his fingertips into your folds. You were soaked; you could hear it already.

You leaned your head back against Beomgyu, letting out a quiet whine.

“Fuuuuuck.” Beomgyu swore, drawing out the words. “You’re soaked. Oh my god.”

“Please. Please. Please.” You reached one of your hands behind his neck, pulling him closer to kiss him.

Your pleading went straight to his ego, as if it needed a boost.

“Please?” Beomgyu didn’t break eye contact with you. He removed his hand from inside your panties, pulling the fabric away and making you feel a rush of cool air along with hearing what could only be the elastic ripping. “My smart girl can’t form a full sentence?”

You knew what he was doing. He would always give into you, but you had to work for it first.

His fingers circled your clit slowly, then he gave a few firm taps. You squeezed your eyes shut, whining again.

“Hey, hey look at me.” Beomgyu’s voice had a sweetness to it, and you looked at him.

“Don’t tease me, please.” You were surprised that you were able to get the words out. “God, I’m gonna cry.”

Beomgyu smirked, kissing you on the neck near your jaw as his fingers circled your clit again. “I’ll make you feel good, baby. Don’t worry.”

Finally, Beomgyu slipped his middle and ring finger past your folds and into your cunt, pressing your walls hard.

You let out a rather loud moan, grabbing onto his arm as well as the desk chair you were both in.

“Yeah. Feels good doesn’t it?” Beomgyu mumbled, slipping a third finger inside of you. You wanted to scream. Of course it felt good.

“Yes. Fuck. Oh god, yes.” You finished the sentence with a whimper, biting down onto your lip. Your walls were clenching his fingers already and he has just started.

“Fuck. My girl is clenching my fingers already.” Beomgyu swore, smirking. He quickly pulled his fingers out, sloppily rubbing your clit a few times before fucking them into you again. “Can I make you cum just from this?”

Stupid question, because as much as you wanted to prove him wrong, you were so close.

You nodded, tears forming in the corners of your eyes.

Beomgyu was so ready to make you cum on his fingers, until he changed his mind.

“Nah. Changed my mind. You’re gonna cum on my cock instead. Get up.”

Beomgyu pulled away from you, helping you to your feet in front of him. He removed his cardigan sweater, and quickly took his glasses off.

“Bend over the desk for me.” Beomgyu instructed you, pushing away his chair to give him more room before lowering his sweatpants and underwear.

You did as he said, moving your homework out of the way and leaned over the desk. You felt Beomgyu’s fingers move the fabric of your underwear out of the way again.

Then, you felt him align the head of his cock with your entrance, making you suck in a breath.

“Shit, you’re so wet.” Beomgyu gripped your waist with one of his hands, while he used his other hand to guide himself inside of you.

He bottomed out in the first thrust, letting out a sigh of pleasure. Beomgyu barely gave you time to adjust before he formed a rhythm.

“Fuck.” He spoke through gritted teeth. “You’re so fucking–“ he couldn’t even finish his sentence.

“Fuck me, gyu.” You whined, knowing he liked to hear his nickname. “Your cocks so big. Feels so good.”

“Yeah, you like it?” Beomgyu started fucking you harder, making you whimper. “Tell me how much.”

He kicked one of your feet for you to put them apart further. You knew you weren’t going to last much longer.

“Fuck.” You sounded like you were about to cry, practically laying on top of his desk. “It’s so good. You fuck so good.”

Beomgyu leaned down to you, now hitting deeper with his cock. Your walls clenched him as your legs started to shake.

“My girl’s gonna cum isn’t she?” He brushed away your hair to see your face, practically in tears.

“Uh-huh.”

Beomgyu snaked his hand around to play with your clit, and then it was over.

“Fuck, gyu.” You sobbed, practically trembling beneath him as he continued fucking you through your orgasm; chasing his own.

“Tell me, baby.” Beomgyu’s hips stuttered as your core clenched him as you rode your high. “Gonna cum in your sweet pussy if that’s okay.”

You always said yes, but you found it sweet how Beomgyu always asked for permission first.

“Please, please.” You rutted into him, desperate for it. “Wanna feel you, please.”

Beomgyu combed back his sweaty bangs with one of his hands. “Fuck, I’ll give it to you.”

He let out the hottest moan you’ve ever heard as you felt him finish inside of you; making you bite down onto your bottom lip.

Beomgyu was panting before he pulled away, admiring the mess he’d made of you. He fixed your panties, before turning you around to kiss you sweetly.

“I think we should get back to studying.” Beomgyu said with a smile on his face. “I think someone has some homework she has to finish.”

—

tags: @dearlyjoonie @tyunsrkive @mhasimp666

#choi beomgyu x reader #choi beomgyu smut #beomgyu smut #txt smut #txt x reader #tomorrow x together smut

[matrixbearer2024]

I ABSOLUTELY LOVE THE “GET OFF MY SCREEN” SERIES

I can’t stop thinking about the idea of Reader playing video games and Vox is just watching like it’s a twitch stream and judging their gaming skills and even backseat gaming 😭😭

It’s like my brain is working overtime thinking of this AU

Oh Shut Up Vee!

Vox x CollegeStudent!Reader

A/N: Yeah- I'm pretty sure Vox would literally dunk on the non-gamer Readers out there, hell- he'd probably find our concept of horror games pretty tame compared to what he sees and deals with daily in hell. Though I'm pretty sure Vox himself would backseat game the fuck out of you- he's not that great at video games either. He just doesn't have the time to really get into them aside from the basics HAHAHAHA- I'll still be writing scenarios and just adding them into the masterlist if you guys think of any. As always, I hope you guys enjoy and happy reading!

"Wow, doll- you... kinda suck at this."

"Vox shut up and let me focus."

You cursed under your breath as you continued to mash buttons.

The loud repeated clicking from your incessant spamming kind of made Vox cringe.

He didn't even want to imagine what you'd do to your keyboard when you were fuming-

Your poor controller was just not having a good day-

So... how did you end up like this?

It was another long weekend for you with the back-to-back holidays around the corner.

So of course you kind of spent it doing whatever you could possibly think of.

Productive or not you didn't really care.

In this instance-

You chose to play some fighting games with a friend online.

It wasn't your preferred genre of game, but it was better than boredom.

So you plugged your computer into the TV to get a bigger view of the game-

Only for Vox to end up popping in at some random point in your session.

He could see your game like a stream from his end, moving it to a separate screen so he could still watch your reactions.

You on the other hand had to deal with a slightly obstructive minimized box on the screen at all times.

At least he tried to stay out of the way-

"Aaaaand you're dead again-"

"FUUUUUCK!!!!"

You wanted to chuck your controller into the ground at this point-

But those things were expensive so you just put it down on the coffee table and started violently punching the shit out of a nearby pillow.

"Seriously, you've just got to punch the dude and block- it's not that hard."

Vox had been watching you play for a little over thirty minutes by now.

And you've probably won like... thrice?

Out of twenty matches?

Not a great looking statistic in his opinion.

You glared up at his minimized face on the TV and huffed.

"If it's so easy why don't you face me head on then huh? Coward!"

"Fine, but don't cry if I end up kicking your ass!"

Vox ended up shooting back, already messing with your computer settings to make way for a local player 2.

Of course most games had that option anyway, it just wasn't immediately recognized by the game since you didn't plug another controller in.

Vox wasn't exactly being arrogant this time either.

He knew his way around video games, and given his profession and work-

That wasn't really surprising.

Though, he wasn't an avid gamer or anything like that.

Lord knows he's too busy to even try-

But he wasn't going to be dumbfounded simply because of complicated controls.

So here's the hilarious fine print our tech savvy TV man didn't realize.

You weren't actually a bad player when it came to 2D fighters.

It just so happened that your friend was quite well-versed in that kind of game.

In reality- you were losing because they were just that good.

And it easily showed when you fought against your overlord buddy.

"NOT SO EASY NOW IS IT ASSHOLE?!"

"FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU! PUSSY!!!"

You laughed upon seeing Vox's minimized face on the TV just glitch and fizzle as he continued to swear up a storm.

Serves him right for underestimating you, but it was still hilarious seeing him just completely lose it after only five rounds.

Well, five rounds where your game character royally kicked his shins in but who's counting?

He continued to just lag and glitch while possibly exhausting every expletive known to the English dictionary.

You on the other hand-

You just calmly and smugly drank some water and watched the chaos.

Who was the raging pissbaby now huh?

It only made you laugh so much harder when his face disappeared off the TV and you realize he'd disconnected.

Bro really just left because he got extremely skill-issued.

You continued to play for a little while longer-

Without any spectators this time-

Before your phone buzzed with a message.

You were initially a little excited before realizing it was just a friend inviting you to go out.

That hope was pretty short-lived.

A part of you kinda wanted it was Vox, and that he would've forgiven you for sort of hurting his ego by now-

Honestly he was asking for it with the backseat gaming earlier so you weren't really sorry-

But it wasn't and you reckoned it probably won't be him for another few hours.

Taking up on your friend's offer though, you figured it wouldn't be so bad to just go shopping or something.

Maybe you could even bring back a gift for your pissy TV companion.

Vox spent nearly the entire day just trying to calm down by throwing himself into his work.

He was so confident he would be able to beat or even match you, only to lose fucking spectacularly.

He slightly wondered if the whole reason he was even this irritated by it was because he wanted to show off to you.

Ya know, make it seem like he had the skills to pay the bills and all that jazz?

It was just a video game but still-

The embarrassment and your laughing at him didn't help.

That and his continued losses reminded him of that one time Alastor bullied him so badly that the entire pentagram city lost power.

He was glad he didn't really get to that point this time, even if he was already on the cusp of it from anger.

His phone buzzed to life from where it was on the coffee table in front of him, snapping the overlord out of his thought train and back to reality.

Vox slightly glared at his phone, he wasn't over his losses quite yet and chose to ignore it.

"Aren't you gonna answer that?"

"I'll get to it later."

Velvette was just sitting on the couch next to him, raising an eyebrow at her colleague's more than peculiar behavior.

Especially when Vox looked at his own phone like it had personally scorned him.

First it was him brushing both her and Valentino off because of some living person who'd apparently caught his fancy.

Then it was him totally careening off the rails when said individual went and got themselves into a relationship.

Eugh- the amount of times she's had to drag his drunken ass into bed otherwise he'd fall asleep anywhere else when it happened-

Not that Valentino helped much, constantly singing a tune of "I told you so" only rubbed salt into the wound.

Only for Vox to eventually be okay again, or at least tolerable and stable.

The fact he kept swinging so far left and then so far right whenever this living person got involved was both hilarious and exhausting to watch.

Velvette tried to pry sometimes, now that Vox had nothing to hide-

Only for him to still be uptight with what he knew and where his stance was.

What a killjoy.

"What if it's your girlfriend?"

The tech overlord just sputtered and looked at the other Vee next to him with a confused and slightly embarrassed expression.

Meanwhile Vel simply had a deadpan at her currently glitching companion.

"I- zZzST- They're n-N-not my girlfriend!!!"

Vox cursed his systems for nearly overloading from just a simple tease.

Immediately glitching and buffering as he tried to calm himself back down.

It wasn't like him to lose his cool so quickly-

That slightly worried him.

"Oh yeah? Maybe stop gushing over anything on your phone and I'll believe ya."

"F-f-FuCk you Velv-vVetTe."

Vox just grabbed his phone and left, heading towards his monitor room with a grumble.

His colleague's words just replayed in his head as he traversed the halls.

Girlfriend...

As fucking if.

It didn't explain why he felt a sense of dejection though.

His phone buzzed again, this time he checked it.

"You didn't reply so I dunno if you saw my message but I wanted to say I just went out for a quick trip to the mall earlier. I'm back home and the computer's connected to the TV again if you wanna talk."

"Yeah, I'll be there in a bit."

Staring at his phone after he hit the send button-

Vox felt a little annoyed with himself for agreeing so quickly.

It was like he couldn't even stop himself from wanting to be near you.

He must've been really just fucked up over earlier.

By the time Vox had connected once again to your TV, you were on the couch messing with something in your hands.

"Ah- Vox! Look, about a while ago-"

"If you're going to apologize because you beat my ass at a game, don't bother. You won fair and square, I just have to get better at it to beat you next time."

"Sooooo... you're not mad?"

"Irritated, but not mad."

He swore he heard you mumble about there not being much of a difference but didn't bring it up.

"Well either way, I made a thing for you."

Vox had to kind of squint to understand what you were showing him.

At first he just thought it was a crocheted mess, just a bunch of tangled yarn and threads.

Though upon closer inspection, it wasn't difficult to notice what it was.

Was that meant to be a plushie in his likeness?

Valiant effort, but was it supposed to look so...

Odd?

"What even is it?"

"Ehhh??? You can't tell? It's you!"

"That's- huh??"

You seemed to pout at his bemused expression, shifting your gaze to the plushie you made instead.

"My friend knows how to crochet so I asked her to teach me, this was the first thing I ended up making."

"Shouldn't you have gone for something easier first?"

"Well yeah, but I wanted to make a gift for you to make up for earlier's fiasco."

Vox's eyes softened, he'd be lying if he said your words weren't endearing to a degree.

And... you got him a gift-

Kind of, he couldn't actually get it but it was the thought that counts.

You wanted to make him feel better because you thought you upset him.

That- that realization made Vox feel a little funny.

When you looked back towards the TV, you were surprised to find the screen tinged a baby pink instead of blue.

What...??

"Cute, still looks shitty though."

Vox's words immediately got you to stop focusing on the color of his face and instead get grumpy.

"Hey, at least I tried!"

You'd probably bring it up eventually, if you didn't forget it along the way from the ensuing word war.

Or, well- maybe it would be wise to forget it anyway.

You've just got to make it happen again.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel vox #vox x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin vox #hazbin vox x reader #vox #hazbin hotel vox x reader #vox x you #get off my screen series

[avatar-anna]

Champagne Problems, Part Two

IT"S FINISHED! whew, that only took forever. part of the reason this took so long to write is that i was obsessing over if it would be as good as part 1, so hopefully y'all like it (but please be nice if you don't). final word count is about 22-23k words...so buckle in, grab a snack, and enjoy!

Part One

*.*

Japan

Harry walked alone through the busy streets of Tokyo, his chin tucked close to his chest and his hands stuffed deep in the pockets of his long overcoat. There was a cadence to his steps as he kept time with the song that played on a loop in his head. It wasn't one that anyone here but him would know. Well, him and one other person, but she was a world away.

Rounding the corner, Harry turned into the cafe he'd been frequenting since he'd arrived. He nodded to the shopkeeper before heading over to the counter, pulling an old, weathered vinyl from his bag.

"This is the one I was talking to you about," he said by way of greeting. "It truly is a phenomenal record."

Harry handed over the record, hesitating a little before letting go of it. He'd been listening to it nonstop since he'd left Los Angeles, and parting with it was more difficult than he originally thought it would be. When he first came to the cafe, he'd looked for it within the crammed shelves huddled in the corner. The shopkeeper had never even heard of it, and Harry could only imagine what Y/n would say if she knew. She'd been the one to introduce him to it, the memory of that conversation in her apartment seared into his brain.

"Wings?" Harry had asked, not quite suspiciously, but the glare Y/n sent over his shoulder made it seem like he'd already written it off. Her glare is so cute, he remembered thinking, admiring the adorable furrow of her brow as she rooted through a collection of vinyls that was bigger than anything Harry had ever seen.

"It'll change your life," she'd promised, before sliding the record out of its sleeve and putting it on the turntable. Her record player was littered with stickers, some too faded or covered by others to see them properly.

She'd grinned as the opening chords to the first track played, settling next to Harry as she picked up her wine glass, her lips puckering around it to take a sip. She hadn't noticed him staring until about a minute later, when her eyes met his. Her brows had furrowed once more, but this time it was more confused. She'd nudged Harry's leg with her foot, which was covered in a purple patterned fuzzy sock.

"It's your turn, isn't it?" she'd asked, eyes darting to the Scrabble board on the coffee table.

Harry remembered taking the wine glass from Y/n's hands and setting it on the table next to the board. He remembered taking her face in his hands and kissing her. He remembered her squeak of surprise but that she didn't pull away.

Their very first kiss.

The memory of her delicate hands sliding into his hair, of her crawling into his lap, the little noise she made as his teeth nipped at her bottom lip—it was all-consuming as Harry sat down at his usual table at the cafe a million miles from Y/n and Los Angeles.

"It'll changed your life," she'd promised him. Little did he know, she already had.

*.*

A week after Harry left, you received a text from your ex, a total surprise seeing as you hadn't spoken to him since you'd broken up.

Gavin: I heard about what happened with you and my sister. Can we meet somewhere and talk?

That message sat in your inbox without a response for hours as you tried to work up the courage to say yes. You knew you needed to, you knew you would feel better after the fact, that both of you deserved closure after the colossal end to your relationship, but every time your thumb hovered over the keyboard, you chickened out.

Until finally, you wrote, Okay.

Seeing Gavin again was a trip. He looked the same, yet so different at the same time. He had facial hair for one thing, and his hair was a couple inches longer than it had been when you were together. Deep down, you assumed a public shaming on his part, you feared he would just berate you for all the ways you'd hurt him and that he hated you for breaking his heart and humiliating him.

But that had never been who Gavin was. Your ex was kind and honorable, he tipped generously on dinner dates and warmed up socks for you in the dryer because he knew how cold you got after a long day at work. He was the definition of a sweetheart, and assuming the worst about him was just the fear and insecurity talking.

"I'm—I'm so sorry, Gavin," you said, trying to hold all the excess of emotion brimming to the surface as you walked beside him. You'd agreed on a walk through the park as opposed to sitting down somewhere, both of you perhaps too nervous to sit still.

Gavin merely nodded, which was more than you could've asked for given the circumstances. "Thank you. So much time has passed, but...it feels nice to hear."

It was a while before either of you said anything. Los Angeles wasn't a frozen tundra by any means, but it was quite brisk by the ocean, and you crossed your arms across your chest to retain a bit of heat.

Then, Gavin said, "I...I just need to know why. Did I do something? I thought things were good between us. I mean I wanted to—"

Maybe it was the cold, but his cheeks were rosy as his voice tapered off. "You didn't do anything wrong, Gav," you said, wanting to take his hand but refraining. It didn't feel like something you could do anymore. Even if two years had come and gone, you couldn't make yourself cross that line. It didn't feel right.

You didn't know how to sugarcoat your words, but you hoped time would soften the blow. "I just...I realized that you were in love with me and I—I just wasn't. I wanted to be, I wanted to be in love with you, but—And then I panicked. I overheard your mom and sister talking about you wanting to propose, and I just couldn't lead you on. I couldn't let you do that knowing you deserved better than what I could give you.

"But it killed me, Gavin," you said, tearing up just thinking about it. "Hurting you is the worst thing I've ever done, and I've—I've hated myself for putting you through that, and I couldn't face you after, which was unfair of me."

"I just wanted an explanation," Gavin said quietly, his head bent so you couldn't see his face. "All I ever wanted was to understand. I think that hurt more than you breaking up with me, that you couldn't offer me that decency."

You nodded with a sniffle, keeping your eye on the slate blue of the ocean and the clouds covering your favorite shade of sky blue. "It was selfish of me to ignore you, I know that. I just...couldn't. I was scared that you would convince me to come back when that wasn't really what I wanted, and with your family and friends constantly messaging me, I just thought staying away was for the best."

"Y/n, what—what messages? What are you talking about?"

"You really don't know?" Perhaps you shouldn't have been surprised, Gavin's family would never do or say anything to him that would make them look bad in his eyes. But so much time had passed that you thought it would've slipped. He'd heard about the coffee house incident, after all.

With shaking hands, you reached for your phone in the back pocket of your jeans. After scrolling through your messages, you passed it to Gavin, letting him look for himself. He was quiet as he looked over the messages from his sister. There were others, but Larissa's were the most vicious. A more mentally sound person would've deleted them ages ago, but you liked to punish yourself when you were feeling particularly low.

"I don't hold any of this against you," you said. "I know you're not your family, but I just...I don't know."

"I wish I'd known about all this before," Gavin mumbled with a shake of his head. "I'm sorry for them."

"Thank you."

You didn't know what to say after that, you weren't even sure you wanted to dwell on the past anymore. It had gone by so quickly in your eyes, but two years suddenly felt like ten. You felt older, more jaded as you walked next to the man you were almost engaged to.

"Are you happy?" you asked suddenly, stopping at a bench and sitting down.

Gavin sat down next to you. He handed your phone back before sighing. "I am. I wasn't for a while, but I am. You?"

You nodded. "Learning to be. I think I was...in a rough place before I started seeing you, and now I think I'm finally on the other side of it."

Gavin's grin was familiar. It felt good to see it, but it didn't give you the butterflies that it used to. Maybe just a little relief. You smiled back, nudging him with your shoulder. "You seeing anyone?"

The blush on Gavin's cheeks told you everything you needed to know, and knowing he moved on settled something in you. "Yeah. We've been together about a year now."

Sometimes you daydreamed about who Gavin would be with when he eventually moved on. Someone perky, but not in an obnoxious way. Maybe she liked to paint and drew pictures of his profile while they had picnics together, because picnics were the kind of dates they would go on. They would hold hands in the popcorn bowl at the movies and wear matching sweaters on Christmas. The girl who would truly steal Gavin's heart would be just as sweet and generous as he was and would make his lunches for work and wipe his mouth at dinner with a smile and love him with her entire being because he deserved it.

"That's wonderful, Gav," you said earnestly. You took his hand in yours and squeezed, hoping he knew you were telling the truth. The only thing you hoped was that he kept her far, far away from his family.

"Are you? Seeing anyone?"

A simple question, and yet you didn't know how to offer a simple answer. Eventually, you shook your head. "Uh...no."

"Brothers scaring the line of willing suitors?" he joked, knowing full well how your brothers could be.

Laughing, you shook your head. "No, nothing like that, I just—It's complicated, I guess."

You couldn't quite believe that you were having this conversation today, especially with Gavin. But talking to him had always come easy, it was one of the things you liked best about being with him.

"If you can believe it," you added, a little humor in your voice. "I was the one who was ready to take things further."

For a moment, you worried you'd taken things too far, but his brows just raised amusingly. "No shit. Really?"

"He wasn't ready. Just my luck. I finally get my shit together and he takes off to another continent."

You didn't resent Harry for leaving. He'd done what was best for him, but that didn't mean the timing didn't suck. You finally felt comfortable and confident enough to be open with someone, and they fled the country.

Okay, so Harry didn't flee the country, but you felt the blow to your ego no matter how rational you were about the situation.

"He'll come around," Gavin promised, which took you by surprise. "You're probably not aware, but you're very easy to fall in love with, Y/n."

Your cheeks flushed, feeling Gavin's words right down to your toes. It didn't feel romantic in any sort of way, but there was some reassurance. Gavin knew you well, and he had been a good friend.

And yet, the only thing you could think as you continued to catch up with your ex was, Then why is it so hard for me to fall in love?

*.*

Harry hadn't realized it, but he'd started to keep a list in his head, a mental tally of all the little things he learned about Y/n and that made her who she was.

The list had started with small trivial things like her coffee order and that she seemed to be particularly fond of wearing bandanas in her hair or that she always carried the same canvas tote on her shoulder, one that read, "You're Doing Great," in squiggly blue writing. From there, the list grew, and he suddenly began to collect bits of information from Y/n like valuable trading cards—what it was like growing up with three older brothers, how long she stayed in Nashville before moving out to Los Angeles, and what the perfect record was for when she was feeling sad. Harry wanted to know everything, every little piece she was willing to give him until he understood even the smallest gesture.

"Why don't you perform your songs?"

It was a question that lingered in the back of his mind for weeks now. Harry had heard Y/n sing on multiple occasions as they wrote together, and he couldn't help but think that she was the whole package. She could sing, had the kind of voice that was soft and low, a little raspy but easy to harmonize with. She wrote incredible songs that held so much depth and emotion and she could play multiple instruments. Harry could see her selling out stadiums and connecting to people through music that she wrote and performed. Yet she didn't.

"I never really had the desire to," Y/n said with a shrug. They were in his backyard, sitting around a bonfire with a bottle of wine between them. It was her turn to pick, and Chris Stapelton was crooning through her phone's speaker.

"Is it like a stage fright thing?"

"No, not at all," Y/n said. "I just don't think that life was made for me, you know? I don't know if I could handle being famous."

Harry supposed he understood what she meant. He loved his life, but it wasn't always a walk in the park. But it did make him wonder if she would ever be with someone like him, someone who did lead a life that she thought she couldn't handle. For the first time since he'd met her, Harry decided he didn't want to know.

"What about...singing backup or joining your favorite musician on tour once he releases the greatest album since...So?"

"I didn't peg you for a Peter Gabriel fan," she murmured, immediately recognizing the title, and Harry couldn't help but smile a little at the fact that she knew exactly what album he was referring to. "But, I guess so. If it was for a friend."

Harry tucked that little nugget of information away. Tour was worlds away at the moment, but it was always good to think ahead, especially when he knew he needed a keyboardist replacement.

Looking up, he admired Y/n in the glow of the bonfire, his heart beating rapidly even though she wasn't even doing anything. Ever since their first kiss a week ago, he just wanted more. His brain could hardly keep up with his heart and how badly it longed for her. And she didn't even realize the effect she had on him. She drove him crazy.

And that scared him. Harry had only recently broken up with his ex, and he didn't think it was possible to feel so strongly for someone after coming out of a pretty serious relationship with someone else. He knew he should untangle the strings, that if he let things get too far, they'd get messy, and he and Y/n would both end up hurt.

But that voice in his head that told him to be careful became a low buzz as Y/n stood up and shuffled over to him before placing herself in his lap. Her fingers came up to play with the hair that curled at the nape of Harry's neck, and he couldn't help but close his eyes at the feeling, at her closeness, at the smell of her perfume that lingered on her clothes.

"I don't know what I'm doing here," she whispered, almost like she was talking to herself and not to Harry. "And I don't have any expectations, but I'm okay with it if you are."

Yet. Y/n didn't have any expectations yet. He knew the familiar thudding of his heart, the excited flutter in his stomach as he leaned into her touch. Of course there would be expectations, but Harry found himself nodding anyway, unable to deny either of them the pleasure of her lips sliding lightly against his. Y/n had never initiated anything between them before, and her tentative kiss told Harry she was unsure of herself. At first glance, she came off as unsure when it came to most things, but Harry learned that she held within herself a quiet confidence that he admired.

Harry stood up with her in his arms as he led them back inside. He didn't know where this would lead, tonight or any night to follow. He didn't know if Y/n was ready to sleep with him, and he honestly wasn't sure if he was either. But he wanted her close and to feel those gentle hands a little firmer in his hair. That was all he knew, and he let himself not think about anything else.

The tangles of his feelings were positively knotted, and despite his long list of things he knew about Y/n, he still didn't know where her heart truly lay. But if she was willing to walk through the fire blind, then so was he.

*.*

Two weeks into Harry being gone, and you were starting to wonder when you'd become so pathetic.

In the time since Harry left for Japan, you hadn't written a single song, not even a lyric. It was ludicrous. You'd written by yourself your entire career, but after a couple months spent with a writing partner, you were rendered insipirationless.

Not to mention semi-friendless.

It wasn't that Harry's friends didn't want to hang out, you just weren't sure you could. Outside of Sylvia, you didn't hang out with Harry's team without him, and it just felt weird to start doing so now. You didn't shy away from them when you saw them in the hallways of the building you all worked in, but you never knew what to say past a casual greeting.

Funnily enough, though, you'd said everything you needed to say to Gavin. Meeting up with him eased a heaviness in your chest you'd been carrying around with you for the last two years. You both were able to get the closure that you'd been denying yourselves, and it felt good to get everything out in the open, to receive Gavin's forgiveness after punishing yourself for such a long time.

Seeing Gavin and talking to him left you feeling lighter, but it also left you a little hollow to. With no rain cloud hanging over your head anymore, you didn't know what to do with yourself. The concept of happiness was something you'd never thought you would get, and now that it was within reach you were hesitant.

"Maybe we need a sabbatical, pookie," you said to your dog, kissing his nose. "What do you think?"

Buddy Holly didn't have a response for you, he just tilted his head at the sound of your voice. Sighing, you scratched his head and pressed play on the movie you'd previously been watching before your dog unceremoniously climbed into your lap.

Now that Harry was gone on his journey of self-discovery, you'd gone back to spending your nights alone. In theory, it should've been easy. Before Harry, being alone was second nature, but your first night alone you were at a loss. You kept wanting to reach for your phone and call him, send him a text about the record you were listening to or the ridiculous thing Buddy had done that day. You didn't realize of much Harry had engrained himself into your life, and now he was half a world away.

Reaching out wasn't an option, either, no matter how much you wanted to. He didn't tell you much for his reasons for leaving, a "writing retreat," he claimed, but you knew it was more than that. There was shit he needed to figure out, shit regarding his past relationship, so you felt the ball was in his court.

The next day, you were on the elevator going up to work, arguing with your brother on the phone.

"Nothing's wrong, Hayden," you insisted, rubbing a tired hand over your face.

"No, there definitely is. Evan, Andrew, and I all agree," Hayden said. "Something's definitely wrong with you. And when something's wrong with you, it's usually one of three things. Menstruation, a guy, or one of us, and seeing as we haven't done anything, and your period doesn't—"

"Oh my God, Hayden!" you groaned as the elevator doors opened. "I'm not...menstruating. Jesus! The fuck is wrong with you?"

Hayden kept jabbering in your ear, but you weren't listening anymore because the elevator doors had opened to reveal someone on the other side. Mitch, Harry's friend was standing there, eyes wide as he looked at you, clearly having heard your side of the conversation with your brother.

God, could this day get any worse? you thought. Shutting your eyes, you wondered if you stood there long enough with your eyes closed, the elevator doors would close and take you straight to hell or you would maybe just disappear on the spot. Either would be appreciated.

"Hayden, I have to call you back."

"You're still coming to my game this weekend right?" he asked.

"Wearing the other team's jersey," you muttered, hanging up as your brother began to protest.

Since the elevator doors stayed open and you didn't spontaneously combust, you opened your eyes. "Hey."

Mitch nodded. "Hey, Y/n."

The air was so incredibly awkward, and you wondered why you weren't sprinting toward your studio and locking yourself in permanently. But neither of you moved, and now you felt the need to explain yourself. "I...I wish I had an explanation other than my brothers still seem to ruin my life from hundreds of miles away, but I don't."

You finally stepped out of the elevator and moved around Mitch, who stepped inside. He still had that tense smile on his face, and you wondered if the two of you would ever be able to make eye contact again. Not that you ever did all that much before this God-awful incident. Just another reason to avoid Harry's friends.

"Right. H mentioned you had brothers," he said. "See you around, Y/n."

For my own sanity, I hope not, you prayed to whoever was listening.

*.*

"Do you ever think about what you would be doing if you weren't doing...this?" Y/n asked, gesturing vaguely around her.

Harry looked down to where she was spread out on the floor, her head rested in his lap while he leaned against his sofa. He wasn't quite sure how they ended up on the floor, but he didn't dare move, resisting the urge to run his fingers through her hair. It was shiny, and smelled faintly of apples. He wondered if it was as soft as he imagined.

Blinking, he stumbled around in his brain for an answer, clearing his head of thoughts of silky hair passing through his fingers. "Honestly? No, not really."

"You don't?"

Harry shrugged even though Y/n's eyes were closed. She did that often if there was music playing, as if she was trying to absorb every note into her body while maintaining a conversation. Right now they were listening to one of Harry's current favorites: a Joni Mitchell album he'd grown up listening to with his mum. He remembered when he used to scramble for answers in interviews when he was asked about his favorite artist or album, trying to come up with an answer that the media would want to hear without appearing fake. He'd list classic rock bands like Fleetwood Mac and wear old band t-shirts from the seventies. He didn't not like those artists, he loved them. But when Y/n asked about his favorite record in his collection, he didn't hesitate to reach for Joni Mitchell, knowing she wouldn't judge him for his answer.

"No. I was so young when I auditioned for the X-Factor," Harry explained. "I don't even think I knew what I wanted to study in school then, so it's hard to know what I would be doing now if it weren't for all...this."

And I wouldn't have met you, he thought but kept that to himself. Neither of them was ready for those kinds of words if he was being honest. Y/n was skittish about feelings at the best of times, and he didn't know where his feelings for her started, and getting over his ex ended. It gave him a headache if he thought about it too long, so he didn't.

Y/n sat up, and Harry resisted the urge to pull her back to him. As they hung out more and more, he had this overwhelming desire to be near her as much as possible. A hollowness would form in his chest if he didn't seek her out at the studio, leaving him blushing like an idiot every time he left his friends behind as he walked down the familiar hallway to her door. None of them ever said anything outright, but he could practically hear their teasing thoughts, but he couldn't help it. Y/n had drawn him in from the moment he'd laid eyes on her.

"Maybe you'd be a florist," she said with a small grin.

"A florist?"

"Yeah." Y/n's grin grew, and Harry swore his heart grew with it. When he initially started spending time with her, or bugging her, more like, she hardly smiled. He thought it was such a shame. Not only because Y/n had a beautiful smile, but because she felt like she couldn't. Harry never wanted her to feel like she couldn't be happy, least of all around him. "You could have this big truck and deliver flowers to baby showers and weddings and other big occasions."

"Oh yeah? And where are you in this scenario?" he asked, somewhat nervous to hear the answer.

A blush crept up Y/n's cheeks as she looked at him. "In the passenger seat."

*.*

The third week Harry was gone, a stranger popped into your studio. A sense of deja vu had run through you as you looked up to find someone occupying the space in your doorframe, only Harry never knocked to make his presence known. You'd always just been aware of him when he entered the room.

"Can I help you?" you asked. You were working on a song that you actually quite liked. A new angle, a different approach to songs that you wanted to see through, and interruptions weren't going to help.

"Mitch said to come find you," he said. He looked a little nervous at having disrupted your work, so you eased up on your stare. "He said you could help us?"

Us? you thought. You supposed that it wasn't too far fetched that Harry's team would make themselves busy while he was off on sabbatical, or whatever it was he'd been doing in Japan. You hadn't heard from him much, and you tried not to let that hurt your feelings too much.

Brows furrowed, you said, "I'm sorry, I don't know how I would help—"

"He said you've written for country artists before?" the guy said. "We're sort of stuck and he said to come find you, so..."

Sighing, you stood up, but not before jotting a couple notes down in your journal. Perhaps it was kismet that the song you'd been playing around with today had been country in your mind. The prospect of writing with anyone other than Harry felt odd, uncomfortable. But Harry wasn't here, and you didn't know when he would be back and you couldn't just hide in your studio because he'd left.

You didn't know what to expect as you followed the man, Daniel, he'd finally introduced, led you to a studio a couple rooms away from yours. You'd met Harry's writing and production team a number of times, but Harry wasn't a country artist, so Mitch was clearly helping out with a different project, which meant introducing yourself to a whole new group.

Mitch was waiting with one other person, a young woman who was about your age or younger. She had blond curly hair and light blue eyes, a smile on her face at something Mitch said. When you entered the room, you couldn't help but think back to last week when you'd completely embarrassed yourself in front of Mitch. You hadn't seen him since, and even though it was probably unlikely, you'd hoped you'd never have to again.

Introductions were made quickly before a chair was pulled out for you. The young woman's name was Cam, and she was working on putting out her first ever single. "And album eventually, but we're starting out small," she said with a bashful grin. "I'm such a huge fan of your work, and when Mitch said you were just down the hall, I told him he had to introduce me. I swear I love every song you've ever written."

Nodding, you gripped the soft leather binding of your journal, wondering what Mitch was angling at here. From the short amount of time you'd spent with him, he seemed rather quiet. A chill person who mostly kept to himself. You weren't sure why you were being dragged into one of his projects.

"Yeah. That's where I started my career," you said. "I'm sorry—Did you want my help with a song?"

"The whole album too, hopefully," Cam said, and you could see it in her eyes how bad she wanted this. She was ambitious, but not in a way that made you want to run back to your room and have nothing to do with this project. You eyed her scuffed boots and the worn friendship bracelets on her wrists and the hope that lined her body as she waited for you to say something.

"I usually work alone," you said. "But, I—I did happen to be writing something a little country today if you wanted to take a look."

You handed your journal over to the young woman, trying to decide if you wanted to be part of this little team. On the one hand, you thought Harry would be the only person you'd feel comfortable writing with, but...if he had a team, why couldn't you? Perhaps Harry had opened you up to the possibility of branching out and trying things you'd closed yourself off to in the past.

At the very least, you decided, you would hear her out, see how you gelled with this small group. If not for any other reason than as a small favor to an acquaintance. You didn't know Mitch all that well, but you considered him someone you knew.

And to be honest, maybe you were getting tired of staying holed up in a studio by yourself all the time.

So now you were meeting with Cam, Mitch, and Daniel regularly. That first day, you stayed at the studio late at night workshopping ideas and getting a feel for the sound and vision Cam was going for. And it was easy. Bouncing ideas off each other, picking up the guitar and playing a potential riff and letting Mitch carry it somewhere else, working out harmonies and melodies with Cam. You'd left the studio later than you ever had that night, but energy coursed through your veins as you left the building.

You'd never been a part of something at the start with the means to see it through. You usually wrote songs and sold them to whoever wanted them, and with Harry, you'd joined in songwriting when he and his team were well underway, but this...this was new, and you didn't hate it. In fact, you were looking forward to meeting the next day, and the next, and the next...

Weeks flew by as you worked on this album, and you suddenly lived off takeout boxes and snacks as you spent many a late night as you worked on song after song, eager to see this project come to life. There wasn't necessarily a deadline, but you were all just eager to keep working on what you all knew was something special. And today Mitch was going to teach you how to play the drums while Cam met with her record label for an hour. It felt like there was finally light at the end of a very long, dark tunnel, one that you'd been winding through the last two years. It felt good to feel this light again, even your brothers got off your back a little, though you knew that wouldn't last very long.

"I'm on my way right now, and I'm bringing Buddy because he's being extra clingy today," you said into the phone. "He's also my reason for going home at a reasonable hour—"

Time stopped as you opened the door to your apartment. Your heart was in your throat, partly because you were startled to find someone on the other side, and then because your eyes finally registered who was on the other side.

"Y/n?"

Blinking, you quickly told Cam you had to go before hanging up the phone, slipping it in your coat pocket before letting it drop to the floor. You ran a hand over your face, wondering if you'd magically conjured him to your door, or if you were so tired you were suddenly delirious, but when you uncovered your eyes, he was still there, hands tucked in his pockets and a suitcase resting by his feet, a cat carrier on top of it.

"Harry? What—What are you doing here? When did you—"

There was no time to think or speak or breathe as Harry surged forward, his hands suddenly out of his pockets and settling deep in your hair, and kissed you.

The kiss was bruising, making it hard to think straight, making it hard to think about anything but him. His cologne flooded your senses as if you'd never smelled it before, making you sigh against his mouth and giving him ample opportunity to slide his tongue against yours as he backed you against the doorframe with a soft thud.

Your hands flew of their own accord, reaching beneath Harry's coat and gripping the shirt he wore beneath it. You needed to feel him, to know he was really here in front of you, that he wasn't going to evaporate in your hands leaving you with only the memory of his kiss. You'd had that particular dream one too many times.

Harry's hands smoothed down your sides, rucking up your shirt and setting your skin on fire when his thumbs brushed your ribcage. Your breaths stuttered until you finally had to pull back to catch it Instinctively, Harry followed, his mouth searching for yours, then your neck, but you held him in place for a moment.

"Wait," you said, breaths shallow. Harry stopped immediately, eyes roving your face in a similar way to how you were doing so. When he finally met your gaze, a small, shy smile, spread across your lips. "H—Hi."

Harry's responding grin was radiant. "Hi."

*.*

"I don't understand, when—when did you get back?"

It was safe to say you weren't going into the studio. There were about ten seconds of protesting before you finally caved, and it had nothing to do with Harry's lips on your neck or his hands sneaking beneath your shirt. "Stay," Harry had mumbled. "Please? There's so much I want to say."

So you stayed, though you hadn't really spoken much. You and Harry had ended up on your couch huddled up together under a blanket, Buddy Holly dozing at your feet. You kept waiting for him to say whatever it was he wanted to say, but he kept quiet. It was nice for a while, but you began to itch with the need for answers. You didn't want to immediately fall back into old habits the second he came back, even if laying flush against his chest was the most peaceful you felt in weeks. You were nervous to talk to him, to hear him say that after staying away for two months, he still didn't want a relationship. But even so, it would be better to know the truth and start getting over it now than to hold out hope.

"Today," Harry said. "I came straight here from the airport."

"Why? Wouldn't you want to go home? Get settled. Sweet Pea probably misses home."

Harry raised his head from where he'd been resting it in the crook of your neck. His brows raised suspiciously to where his cat was dozing on top of Buddy, as if she'd never left. "I think she's rather comfortable."

"You're awfully comfortable too," you said under your breath. Then, even though you felt so warm in his embrace, you sat up, putting some distance between yourself and Harry.

You could tell he wanted to protest, his sleepy eyes and mussed brown curls covering his forehead in a messy tangle told you that all he wanted was to fall asleep next to you. You wanted that too, but your mind kept drifting back to that last conversation, to that last exchange of words, and you let them keep that small bubble of distance between you and him.

"I need to know why you're here, H," you said, raising your knees up to your chest.

Harry could hear the seriousness in your voice, his expression sobering a little. He sat up too, facing you as he took up his place at the corner of the couch. There were only a couple inches between you, but it felt like Harry was still in Japan with how distant you felt from him now. He was home, but was he really? You didn't know how your friendship was going to evolve from here. You supposed you could be okay with just being his friend. It would sting, but you would get over it.

Eventually.

You hoped.

"I...just knew that this was where I needed to be," he said, not meeting your eye. "I came home and the only person I wanted to see was you."

His words meant more than you cared to admit. They filled you with warmth, bringing a flush to your cheeks that you prayed Harry didn't see.

"I missed you too," was all you could think of to say.

"And I—I want more," Harry said. "I was halfway across the world, and I was writing and walking around the city, and all I wanted was to share those moments with you and write with you and wake up next to you. I just...I want you in my life, Y/n."

"As your friend?" you asked, your voice stuck somewhere in your throat.

"However you'll have me."

Your heart leaped in your chest, but you stopped yourself from launching across the couch into his arms. It was all too good to be true. Harry wasn't ready for a relationship before he left, and you'd been gracious and understood where he was coming from. And now that a few weeks had passed, he suddenly wanted to be whatever you wanted him to be. In the back of your mind, the fact that he hadn't said "boyfriend" pricked a sensitive part of your brain. It was silly and minuscule, and it shouldn't have mattered, so you tried not to let it.

Still, you were unsure. You knew Harry would never be so cruel as to feed you words for the sake of placating you, but something left you hesitating. Maybe it was that the last time you saw Harry, he told you he couldn't give you what you wanted and now he was saying he could, or maybe your heart was still protecting you from potential pain, you weren't sure. But you couldn't give in.

Almost as if he could read the jumbled thoughts running around in your head, Harry inched toward you, his expression soft and open. "I can tell you're unsure, and I don't blame you," he said, taking a chance and reaching a hand across the couch to hold yours. "Let me prove it to you."

Brows furrowed, you tilted your head to the side. "Prove it?"

"We'll go slow," Harry said as he nodded and moved closer. Close enough to tip your chin up with his knuckle. "We can do that, can't we? We don't have to rush things. We can just...go on a date and see what happens, right?"

Despite the hesitation, a smile twitched at the corner of your lips. "Harry Styles...are you asking me on a date?"

Harry's responding grin was wide and sweet as honey. "Only if you're saying yes."

Eight weeks ago, you'd stepped out of your comfort zone by asking Harry for more, and watching him walk away hurt more than you ever thought it would. Your instinct was to hide, to crawl back into your shell before you could get hurt again. But you knew Harry had been hurt before too, and now he was trying. Even though they'd both had their hearts broken for different reasons and had every reason not to give into their feelings and hide, preferring to be alone.

It took you two years to..."forgive yourself" didn't seem like the right words. To be ready to put yourself into the world again, to allow yourself the possibility of hurting and being hurt in that way again. Your scars had healed over into faint white lines after two whole years. Nearly imperceptible, but still there, a subtle but constant reminder of what you stood to lose if you ruined things again. But also a reminder that you could love and lose and still heal, and maybe even love again. Harry hadn't been there when he left, and at the time you hoped he would be. And maybe part of you knew he would be, because you'd gotten there too in your own way.

The hope that kindled in your chest made you nervous, but it made you excited too.

"I—I don't want you to feel like you have to do this because—"

Harry's index finger was on your lips before you could say anything else. Your eyes nearly crossed as you looked down your nose at it, and you heard his chuckle at what was most likely a silly look on your face. "I know I don't have to do anything, Y/n. I needed some time to clear my thoughts and untangle all of my feelings. I want this. I want you."

Over your time spent with Harry, you'd come to realize he had expressive eyes. While he kept a lot to himself and didn't share much unless it was through songwriting, his eyes said everything. This close to his face, you could see the honesty, the earnestness. You decided to believe him, to believe in whatever had been forming between you since the first time you'd met.

Not holding back, you did lunge for him this time, but gently, seeing as he was so close. Harry seemed surprised by your sudden movements but didn't stop you as you took his face in your hands and kissed him for all he was worth. You felt his face slowly split into a grin as his hands roved up and down your back, as if he was finally reacquainting himself with your body. Or maybe it was that this kiss was different from all the others, with different expectations and intentions and promises for more.

"What happened to slow?" he asked, teasing as you nipped at his ear.

"Tell me to stop," you said, feeling out of breath.

He didn't, you knew he wouldn't, but that only made him grin even more. "I still want to do things properly," he told you, leaning back against the couch and taking you with so that you were on top of him, your body flush against his. "I want to take you out, I want to hold your hand and pull your chair out for you at dinner."

Resting on your elbows, you lightly traced the delicate planes of his face with your finger. Harry's eyes tracked your movements while he waited for you to answer, kissing the pad of your index finger when it passed over his lips. You smiled a little, unsure of where all this giddiness was coming from but hoping it wouldn't go away.

"I want that too," you murmured before kissing the tip of his nose. "But maybe that can start tomorrow."

Harry's hand came up to cradle the side of your face, and you couldn't help but lean into his touch. Everything already felt different. New and fragile and breakable. So, so breakable.

"Your heart was glass, I dropped it," you'd written way back. You had the potential to break Harry's heart. But the notion that you wouldn't was so intrinsic in that moment, you felt like the only way you would crack the glass this time was by squeezing too hard, by liking him too much.

You didn't know what you would do if Harry would drop yours.

It was a terrifying thought, one that was too dreadful for the peaceful bliss taking over your apartment. Harry was looking at you like your hair was made of stars or pure sunlight, and it warmed every inch of you down to your bones as he rubbed his thumb back and forth across your cheekbone.

"I can get behind that," he said quietly.

After that, you finally relaxed. Your head found purchase on his chest, comfortable against the soft material of his sweatshirt despite the firmness of his body beneath you. You breathed in deep, holding it in for a few seconds before letting it all out in one soft exhale. With that breath, you felt the last of your doubts flutter away—for now, at least—allowing you to believe in the promise Harry offered you.

*.*

"Come on. If you're not going to let me go to work, you're gonna help me here."

You managed to untangle yourself from Harry, who pouted at you as he remained sprawled out on your bed. Leaving him there, you went to the front door to where you'd left your guitar case when you found him on your doorstep yesterday. Slipping your well-loved guitar from the case, you walked back over to Harry, who was now sitting up on the couch. His eyes tracked your every move as you made your way back over to him. His stare felt heated, causing a flush to your cheeks, but you ignored it as you settled on one end of the couch, resting the guitar in your lap.

"Looks like you already have something in mind," Harry said. He still sounded playful, but you knew he wasn't going to try and dissuade you from this. He was just as eager to write as a team as you were.

Writing without Harry while he was gone was strange. At first you thought you'd be fine, seeing as you'd preferred working in solitude most of your professional career. Yet when he left, you were unable to write. You found yourself looking for him, raising your head to ask what he thought of a melody when he wasn't there, thinking out loud as if he was still in the room to bounce ideas off of.

You'd missed him in more ways than one, that was certain. This new dynamic with Mitch had been good, fun even. You attributed your openness to teamwork to Harry, and now you were nearly finished with an album, a project you'd been part of from start to finish, something you'd never really been able to say before. You'd enjoyed going into the studio to work with Mitch, to share song ideas with Cam and see where she took them. If given the option, you would do it again in a heartbeat.

But something in you settled as you began to idly pluck at the strings of your guitar, Harry sifting through his duffle bag until he produced his leatherbound journal from it. You felt comfortable, complete, not an atom out of place as you began to sing the lyrics of a partial song you were going to work on with your team today.

"There is a town, somewhere down a country road," you sang softly. "I see it now, take it everywhere I go. The river sways, I can almost here it now. As if to say, 'You're not the only one who wants a way out.'"

"That's nice," Harry said, his thumb tapping against his knee in time with the music coming from your guitar. "Something new?"

"I've had the idea for a song about a small town for a while," you said, fingers still plucking at the guitar strings, though not with much intent while you spoke to Harry. "My hometown."

Nodding, Harry said, "You don't talk about your home much."

"Not much to say," you shrugged. "At least I thought so. Now I just keep thinking how so much has changed since I moved away. How much I've changed,"

"Good changes, I hope," he said.

You shrugged again, trying not to let the topic make you squirm. You normally didn't around Harry, but perhaps being away from him for so long had you shying away just a little. "Good and...neutral, I guess. Sometimes I feel like I've changed so much I can't even reconcile who I was then and the person I am now. Not really sure if that's a good or bad thing yet. To be determined, I suppose."

Harry processed the information quietly, letting the conversation end there. You fell into a comfortable silence as both of you played around with lyrics and melodies in your own heads. You eventually grabbed your own journal to jot notes down in, and at one point Harry took your guitar into his own lap to play around, humming quietly to himself.

His plucking of the strings slowly became something less abstract and more concrete, and it eventually became the backdrop to your thinking process. You liked the tune he played better than what you'd originally come up with, and you let it guide your pen as you jotted down words and phrases until you eventually had something that might've been a pre-chorus or a bridge. Shifting closer to Harry on the couch, you showed him what you had so far, hoping he'd be able to fill in the gaps like he normally could.

You rested your cheek on his shoulder as he took your journal and pen from your offering hands. For a minute, the only sound was the tapping of the pen in his hand in time with the melody he'd been playing moments ago. You watched with slow blinking eyes as he eventually began to scribble his own little notes beside yours, sometimes writing lyrics of his own and occasionally circling a word you'd written and putting a suggestion above it.

The scratching of pen on paper was an unusual lullaby, but sure enough, the warmth emanating from Harry's body and the familiarity of this moment, yet something precious and new blooming between you, was enough for your breaths to deepen, your blinks to become fewer and far between. Even after being on a plane all the way from Japan, the scent of Harry's cologne and whatever laundry detergent he used lingered on his clothes. It was so familiar, as much of a welcome home as him actually being here beside you.

Breathing in deep, you huddled closer to Harry. Feeling your movements at his side, Harry shifted so that you were leaning against him more comfortably, his body solid yet soft beneath your cheek. "I missed this," you murmured, the words clinging together as you inched closer and closer toward sleep. "I missed you."

There was no stiffening of his posture at the words, no hesitation or uncertainty as he said, "I missed you too."

*.*

"Don't leave again," Y/n said.

Harry was pretty sure she was already half asleep, was sure she wouldn't even remember this conversation when she woke up in a couple of hours. But even so, the words made him pause, the pen in his hand jerking almost imperceptibly.

Y/n hadn't brought up his departure since he'd come back yesterday. Even now, she didn't sound resentful, though that could've been the fact that she was seconds away from falling asleep, but Harry didn't think so. Yet in her current limbo between states of consciousness, she revealed something that she probably wouldn't have if she'd been fully awake.

"I'm sorry if I hurt you by going," he said, and he knew he was a bastard for saying it when she was seconds from falling asleep.

A deep breath, then another, then another.

"Don't leave me again," was all she said in reply, perhaps all she could muster just before unconsciousness finally settled over her like a blanket.

Harry's heart clenched. Don't leave me again, she told him. He'd learned rather quickly that despite all that she'd been through, Y/n hid a gentle heart behind all those walls she put up. A heart that had been battered and bruised and hidden away after so much unhappiness. Harry realized early on in their semi-friendship that he never wanted to be the reason for another wall between Y/n and the rest of the world; he wanted to be someone she could entrust to protect her gentle soul, to be someone who helped her realize she was much more fierce than she knew.

Knowing he'd caused her pain by leaving dug at him, even if leaving was in some ways very necessary. Harry needed that distance, that time away to clean up the mess his ex had left in him. Nothing about his previous relationship's demise was simple, and the things he'd begun to feel for Y/n while still trying to untangle himself from his ex only complicated things. Harry knew it would be a disservice to both himself and Y/n if he jumped into something he wasn't ready for. He felt horrible that night she'd laid all her cards on the table before him. He knew that it had taken a lot to state what she wanted from him so plainly, to realize that she was still deserving of more after what she'd been through. And Harry had to offer the same honesty, even if it was something even he didn't want to hear.

But it had been the right thing. For both of them. Of that he was sure. Harry had done a lot of introspecting, had allowed himself to simply be alone in a way he hadn't been for a long time. His last relationship was perhaps the most significant, but it was one in a rather long list of failed attempts to find love. His friends often teased him for not knowing how to not be in a relationship, and after this last breakup, he realized how right they were.

Harry liked Y/n. He was fascinated by her talent as a songwriter and enamoured by the person she was outside the studio. He liked her chunky patterned sweaters and the array of rings on her fingers that changed from day to day. He liked that she wasn't perfect, that she was shy to an almost stubborn degree, that he had to work hard to piece together who she was bit by bit until a beautiful mosaic was laid out in front of him.

But he needed to know that he knew how to be alone before giving himself over to her entirely. Who was he outside of a romantic relationship? Harry honestly had no idea, and while that had never even so much as itched his brain before, it terrified him after things ended with his ex. He owed it to himself to try to stand on his own two feet, to live on his own and know that he could be content to do so. He didn't need a relationship to be happy, that was what he set out to discover.

And once he did. Once he lived and wrote songs and got coffee and ate by himself, and didn't feel like an utter disaster, he knew he'd be okay.

Harry enjoyed himself in Japan. He'd committed himself to this soul-searching endeavor and actually came out on the other side of it pleased with himself. And at the end of it all, when he knew a relationship with Y/n wasn't something he needed but something he wanted, he knew he was ready to go home. He wanted her a lot, to be fair, so much so that he often wrote about her, and talked about her to the few friends he made in Japan. But being alone didn't kill him, and he was able to see that for himself the two months he was gone.

He left his feelings for his ex in Japan, letting every last bit of baggage he'd been quietly carrying around with him slide off his shoulders, holding onto those precious little blossoms of feeling for Y/n and bringing them home, right to her doorstep.

The plan hadn't been to go straight to her apartment, but that was where he told his driver to go when he slid into the backseat of the sleek black car his manager had sent to pick him up. Harry was actually supposed to go home and rest so he could meet with his label and discuss the progress of his album, but he stayed at Y/n's place anyway. He knew these next few months as the album went into recording and production mode wouldn't leave much time to spend alone with Y/n, and he needed these fleeting moments. He needed to hear all about the new album she was helping to write and what she and Buddy Holly had gotten up to while he was gone. He needed to kiss her, to touch her, to let her fall asleep against him while they wrote a song about a small town.

"I won't, I promise," Harry murmured, even though he knew Y/n was already asleep.

It was perhaps a promise to himself. He knew Y/n would never be that vulnerable, wouldn't reveal just how much she cared for him if she'd been entirely conscious. She'd been forgiving, if not a little hesitant when he showed up on her doorstep, but she'd never resented him for leaving. At least he thought she didn't. She'd been understanding when he left, but in her sleepy state, he saw a little bit of the hurt he'd inflicted by leaving, by rejecting her desire for something more with him.

Harry knew he'd done it for the right reasons, but guilt curled in his chest at the thought of hurting Y/n. He would commit himself to not doing it again, to be someone worthy of her vulnerability. Harry was aware of how precious it was for Y/n to open herself up to him like this. He wouldn't take that gift for granted.

Shifting around a bit, Harry took Y/n into his arms and stood up. He padded down the carpeted hallway to her bedroom, where a large, four-poster bed with a mountain of pillows and one stuffed animal lay on. He set her down on white sheets with little red polka dots, pulling up the covers over both of them. Y/n curled into Harry immediately, and he didn't even bother trying to shove away the warmth that spread through him.

With Y/n's cheek squished adorably against his chest, Harry rested his arm behind his head as his eyes flitted about her bedroom.

He'd been inside it a handful of times, but it never failed to amaze him, because for someone so convinced they were undeserving of love, they sure loved heart decorations. Retro Valentine hearts were mounted on one wall, twinkly lights dangling between them; pink and red heart-shaped candles remained unlit on her vanity, a heart-shaped guitar on a stand next to it. Everything centered around something pink or red—the sheets, the pillows, the jewelry dishes and mirrors, even the stuffed bunny under her pillow that Harry knew Y/n slept with, even if she wouldn't admit it.

It was a mystery he'd yet to solve, but he imagined that would come in time.

Soon enough, Harry's own eyes began to droop. He nestled deeper into the bed, trying not to completely drape himself over Y/n. They'd never actually spent the night in the same bed before last night. Sometimes they'd fall asleep together on the couch, but this was different. Last night, they'd collapsed into bed after staying up late talking, nearly well into the morning. There had been no tangled limbs or breaths keeping time because they slept so close together, just two people in dire need of sleep.

In some ways, Harry wondered if it was too much as they were only just beginning to explore this thing between them, but he couldn't make himself leave. He turned over so his back was to her, trying to provide a modicum of space should Y/n want it, but not even a minute later, an arm snaked around his waist, a cheek pressed against his back as one of her legs slotted between his.

It was safe to say Harry fell asleep with a small grin and a full heart.

*.*

The following weeks flew by, and you saw Harry every single moment that you could.

Now that his album was in the later stages of production, he was constantly in meetings for promotion—release dates, interviews, live performances, and concept art for the album. You stayed out of those conversations, as you had your own projects to complete and deadlines to meet. But you'd be lying if you said you weren't curious. You'd never been part of those conversations before, as you merely wrote your songs and sold the demos to artists or bands. Seeing an album from start to finish was intriguing, though perhaps part of the reason was the hand you played in it and how important Harry was to you.

But even with all of that going on, Harry stayed true to his word.

He made every moment count. Suddenly there were flowers on top of the grand piano when you entered your studio, and he stopped by whenever he could. Each petal, each little note attached to the bouquets, filled your stomach with butterflies. And after you were both done for the day, Harry invited you over to cook dinner and listen to records. The atmosphere was different than before Harry left, a more romantic feel in the air as you sat across from each other, the warm glow of candles the only lighting in the room.

With the public attention Harry tended to get, you both agreed to keep things quiet for now. You'd always preferred anonymity, and although you knew your relationship would eventually become public, you wanted it to stay between you and Harry and your friends and family. Hopefully in the future, when this precious thing between the two of you wasn't so new, you would feel more comfortable. Until then, it would be secret dates and romantic dinners from home, but that didn't make it feel any less special or real.

It didn't take long for your friends to notice, though.

You and Harry didn't have much to hide in front of Sylvia and the rest of the people who made up your little group, but neither you nor Harry really went out of your way to tell anyone about the slight change since he had come back from Japan.

One night, Sylvia decided to switch up the usual gatherings from game night to a night at a karaoke bar. You didn't mind. In fact, you loved watching everyone drink and take up a mic in the private room that had been rented out. Harry stayed by your side most of the night, an arm wrapped around your waist, his thumb subtly sneaking beneath the hem of your patchwork top to graze your skin and leave goosebumps in its wake, and a neat tequila in his other hand, your leather jacket draped over his arm after he insisted on carrying it for you. You opted for a margarita, sipping on it idly while you went between talking to Harry and watching the chaos unfold in front of you.

"What do you say, are we up next?"

"We?" you asked incredulously. "You go. I've actually been wanting to see you perform."

Harry chuckled, his nose brushing against your temple. "Come on, love. For me?"

You both knew you had a soft spot when Harry pleaded with you. Just one more hour at his place, just one more kiss, getting his favorite takeout, all of it just required a slight widening of his eyes and him saying, "Pleeeease," or, "For me?" as he nuzzled your cheek with his nose, and he had you. It was mostly harmless, but just like all the other times, it was working now.

"I don't know..." you said anyway, a small grin creeping its way onto your face. Harry only doubled down, which was exactly your goal.

"Please? I'll make it worth your while."

So that was how you ended up in front of the rest of your group of friends, a mic in your hand as you waited for Harry to pick the song. When the opening chords sounded through the speakers, you beamed, looking over at him with raised brows. Harry just sauntered over to you with a small grin, dancing over to you in that silly way of his that you learned was a unique trait he possessed.

"Islands in the Stream" was one of the songs the two of you had bonded over the last few months. You'd played it for him on the drive to Buddy Holly's favorite dog park, and the two of you sang it most car rides ever since.

Harry started the song, and you joined in, keeping your eyes on him for most of it. He definitely had more stage presence than you did, which you were fine with, but you'd be lying if you said you didn't enjoy yourself. Harry's eyes were on you the whole time too, his hip bumping against yours and spinning you around occasionally.

By the time it was over, there were cheers all around, and not just because Harry kissed you at the end. You'd made it all of two steps off the makeshift stage in the private room before you were tugged into a corner away from everyone else.

"What the hell was that?"

Sylvia was looking at you with wide, surprised eyes, though a grin stretched her cheeks. You couldn't hide your blush, opting to take the drink that Harry handed you once he found you again. "What?"

"You—You two are unbelievable," she laughed. "So this is real now? You two aren't acting like children anymore and pretending you aren't in love with each other?"

Trust Sylvia to make things between you and Harry awkward. Both of you laughed, though yours was more nervous because she'd revealed a truth you weren't quite ready to accept. Harry merely draped a hand over your shoulders and kissed the top of your head. "Looks like it, doesn't it?"

*.*

"You look nervous," you said, taking Harry's hand that rested on the gear shift.

"Me? Never," Harry insisted, though he gripped your hand a little too tightly for you to believe it.

"It's just one brother," you said, trying to ease the tension in his shoulders.

You wouldn't lie to him and say meeting all three of your brothers at once would've been a walk in the park. But this was just Andrew, who was only in town for a night. You were pretty sure Hayden and Evan sent Andrew to investigate your relationship with Harry. For that exact reason, you hadn't divulged much to any of your brothers. After the whole, "Are you sure you're not menstruating" incident, you'd been giving Hayden the cold shoulder, so you knew for a fact that he'd enlisted Andrew's help to, at the very least, get back in your good graces, and hopefully get a little intel on your budding relationship.

"Andrew's harmless, I promise," you said. "He's about as threatening as a puppy."

Harry chuckled as he pulled into the trendy bar you had agreed to meet your brother at. "See, I want to believe you, but I've seen your brother play hockey, so...I don't."

Leaning across the center console, you kissed his cheek, quickly wiping away the lip gloss you'd left behind. Even in the dim lighting of the car, you saw Harry blush, which made you nudge him with your nose playfully. "I'll keep him in line, I promise."

You led Harry inside the bar, entering through a side door to remain relatively unnoticed, neck craning for your brother. Andrew wasn't hard to spot, his long arms waving back and forth from a tall table tucked in the corner of the bar. Squeezing Harry's hand once, you walked over to where your brother stood by waiting with open arms.

"How's my little sister?" Andrew asked as he squeezed the living daylights out of you.

You rolled your eyes, not even bothering to remind him you were older. Instead, you stepped back and introduced him to Harry. For all his nerves, Harry didn't show it as he shook Andrew's hand and asked how he was doing. Even when you knew your brother squeezed his hand too hard, Harry just smiled and sat down on the barstool.

Things went surprisingly well. Despite your earlier reassurances, you'd been a little nervous about the questions Andrew might ask, ones not necessarily thought up by him, but by the brothers who were absent tonight.

"So, Harry, where do you see this relationship with my sister going? I noticed she didn't introduce you as her boyfriend."

Perhaps you'd spoken too soon.

"Andrew, seriously?" you said, kicking him under the table. "Tell Evan to butt out."

"Evan's not—"

"Oh please," you said. That question had your oldest brother written all over it. "Andrew, you leave our brothers out of this or I'll tell Harry what they used to call you in high school."

Blushing, Andrew backed down immediately, a flush crawling up his neck. You didn't like stooping to your brothers' level, usually the silent treatment got your brothers to grovel after pissing you off, but they really couldn't be surprised when you did from time to time. You learned from the best after all.

Clearing his throat, Harry broke up the stare down you and Andrew had been locked in. "Um, to answer your question, I think we both—not to speak for you, Y/n—but I think we both see this evolving into something more, we just haven't had that conversation yet."

His words filled you with warmth. You'd been thinking the same—you wanted more from Harry when he came back, and things had progressed from there. You didn't think boyfriend and girlfriend titles were far off, but now that you knew where you and Harry both stood, you were okay with taking things slow.

Not that Andrew, or your other brothers, for that matter, needed to know that.

The rest of the night went much better. Andrew eased up and was finally able to ask questions that had nothing to do with the intimate details of your relationship with Harry, and when Harry began asking Andrew about playoffs, it was all your brother could do to not talk about hockey.

Your brother left you and Harry in the parking lot with a final farewell of, "You're alright, Harry Styles, and you," he said facing you with a pointed stare. "Stop ignoring Hayden, please. You know how he gets when you don't give him attention."

Huffing, you said, "I'll think about it."

Andrew grinned. Your brothers were a lot of things, but from the moment you became a part of the family, you were a little princess to all of them. Evan, Hayden, and Andrew had their moments, but they never liked to make you too mad. Most of the time. Still, you knew Andrew, and you knew he liked to be the unspoken, "favorite brother."

Harry took you home, his hand in yours the whole way back. Neither of you said anything, unwinding from the interesting night. It honestly could've gone a lot worse, in your opinion. Andrew really was the least of your worries.

Like a gentleman, Harry walked you to the door when you got home. You held back from unlocking your apartment and stepping inside despite the cold, taking his hand in yours. "I'm sorry if things were a little tense tonight."

Harry shook his head. "You really have them wrapped around your finger, you know that?"

"They have good intentions. They just...they were all I had for a long time. They're protective. Especially Evan."

Growing up, your brothers were pretty much your whole family. You were all bonded by the same shitty father, growing up raising and protecting each other. You knew the questions and the protective attitudes came from a good place, especially after the way things broke down with Gavin and his family. Evan saw how much it affected you, and probably just didn't want to see you get hurt again.

"Well, I'm glad. Even if they do slightly terrify me."

"They're big pushovers," you said with a laugh. "And like you said, they're wrapped around my finger. You'll be fine, I promise."

Harry smiled, tipping your chin up. "Yeah? You promise?"

"Mhmm," was all you could manage as he began to kiss your neck, a chill that had nothing to do with the brisk weather licking down your spine. The excitement that surged through you almost had you leaping into his arms. You settled for wrapping your arms around his neck. "I know we've been taking things slow, but I—I wouldn't mind it."

"You wouldn't mind what?" Harry teased, pulling away slightly when you tried to kiss him. "Might need to do a little better than that if you want me to be your boyfriend."

Everything was so easy with Harry. The playful teasing, the serious conversations, getting drinks with your overprotective brother, all of it. You hadn't wanted someone this much since—well, since forever. Harry just made you so happy, and you wanted to chase that feeling, not hide from it. You spent way too much time hiding from life, from love.

Reaching up on your toes, you kissed him, your fingers curling around the soft strands of hair at the nape of his neck. Harry backed you against the door to your apartment, the hum coming from his chest once your tongues brushed together reverberating through you. His cheeks were cold as you held them in your hands, and you wanted nothing more than to haul him inside and never let him leave. But he had to be up early tomorrow and had to go back to his cat. You would make sure he'd regret leaving, though.

Eventually, you let go of him, your hands smoothing down the knit sweater he wore. You'd spent ages on the phone with him as he freaked out over what to wear. One coat was too flashy, but that t-shirt said he wasn't putting in any effort and didn't care about meeting a member of your family. On and on until you eventually made him turn the camera around to face his closet and pick something out for him. Black jeans and a black sweater with colorful depictions of the solar system eventually convinced him to finally leave the house. It was a little silly, but you appreciated how much effort he wanted to put into meeting Andrew, who absolutely would have reported back to Hayden and Evan what Harry wore, but Harry didn't need to know that.

"I don't want to be scared of feeling good anymore," you whispered. "I don't want to feel guilty for chasing something that feels right. Please tell me you feel the same."

"I do," Harry murmured. His forehead rested against yours as his hands found the perfect place on your waist, finding the sliver of skin revealed between your halter top and your jeans, and the look in his eyes was something so comforting, a safe assurance you hadn't felt in a long time.

Harry made you feel safe. He made you smile and knew things about you no one else did, not even your brothers, and he didn't seem put off by it. He understood your creative process, gave you space when you needed it, and was there for you when needed someone but didn't know how to ask.

You were still perhaps too scared to even think about the word love, but looking up at Harry then, you thought there might be a day where you felt brave enough to tell him how you really felt.

*.*

The club was packed tonight, bodies surrounding you on all sides. As someone bumped into you from behind, you gripped Mitch's arm on instinct, determined not to fall over or get swept up in the sea of people waiting for the band to start their set.

"Remind me why we're here again?" you asked, shouting over the crowd and thumping bass.

For a moment, you worried Mitch hadn't heard you, but then he shouted back, leaning in close so you could hear him. "Because they asked us to be here. We heard their demos, and you said they had potential. And—"

"Alright, alright. I get it. I just didn't think there'd be this many people."

"Kind of a good thing though, isn't it?" a voice said from behind you.

Turning around, you couldn't help the wide grin that took over your face. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Mitch give you a pointed look, but you ignored it, throwing your arms around Harry. "You found us!"

"Course. I could spot my two best friends from a mile away."

Being regarded as Harry's friend made your stomach tighten despite knowing he didn't mean it that way, especially since you were around so many people. And yet, it had you overthinking.

Don't be stupid, you thought, blinking those thoughts away. Squeezing Harry's hand once, you let go. "Did you get into the venue okay?"

You, Harry, and Mitch talked to—talked at, more like—each other before the show, huddled together and trying not to draw attention to yourselves. Because of the packed venue, you and Harry were able to stand relatively close to one another, your hands brushing occasionally. With Harry so close to you like this and unable to kiss his cheek at the very least, and you could tell he was having the same struggle. He was pressed up against your back, at one point, then his arm was draped over your shoulders, and when the lights finally dimmed as the set began, he was as close as he could be, his arm wrapped around your waist as you watched the band perform.

The band played music that was loud, full of heavy base lines and guitar riffs and drum solos that had the crowd jumping and jostling around. Harry was a steady force at your back until you eventually joined in with the audience, dancing along to the music beside Mitch.

In the few weeks you and Mitch worked on writing Cam's album together, you'd ended up spending more time outside of the studio as well. It was almost always music related, the two of you going out to see live performances in some form or another—local bands, shows at the Troubador and the Whiskey, performers just starting out in dive bars. It was something you typically did on your own, a good way to discover new artists and experience different sounds, and Mitch was more than happy to join you, showing you a couple of his favorite haunts, ones that he played in from time to time.

It was nice to get out of your apartment, to hang out with someone who appreciated discovering new music as much as you did. Mitch had helped you expand your horizons and had even taught you a thing or two about playing drums after you were particularly enthralled by a grunge band. It had become part of your routine as much as writing in the studio had—going out once or twice a week to find new talent and sometimes meeting up with the artist or band afterward to see if they were interested in collaborating. That wasn't always the goal, but there were moments when you couldn't help yourself.

"You were right. They do have potential," Mitch said. Both of you were buzzing after the performance, talking animatedly about the band and their set.

"I know! And I really liked their sound. There was something so nostalgic about it, but not in a gimmicky way, you know?"

Harry walked a couple paces behind you and Mitch as you ambled down the sidewalk toward where you'd parked. He'd been quiet coming out of the show, but you didn't think anything of it.

You kept talking to Mitch, promising to stop by the studio for another drum lesson when you had the chance, or when he had the chance, more like. Now that Harry's album was less an idea and more a fully realized project with a release date, Harry and Co. had been pretty busy lately. And once the album finally came out...well, you'd cross that bridge eventually.

When Mitch was gone, headed home in his car, you walked a little further to your side-by-side with Harry. You leaned in close, not really caring if anyone saw. Even through the layers of his heavy coat, you could feel the warmth that he emanated naturally. You loved being tucked into his side or curled around him, or just being as close to him as possible, an alarming amount. The word "love" fluttered through your mind every now and again, but you swatted it away every time. It was much too soon, and while you'd made many strides, there were still parts of you that remained afraid.

Afraid of what would happen if you got too attached and things ended, afraid of the distance rapidly approaching once Harry's album came out, afraid of your inner saboteur. It was all there, lingering, waiting to strike at any moment.

"Good show, right?" you said to Harry, eager to shake off the dark turn your thoughts had taken. "Mitch and I have been wanting to see them for ages."

"Yeah," he said, his eyes remaining on the street ahead. Then, "I...I didn't realize you spent so much time with him while I was gone."

"I honestly didn't expect to, but he was still working in the studio. We made quite the team."

Because you were so close, you felt Harry's whole body stiffen. A split second too late, you realized your poor choice of words.

"I—I didn't mean—"

"It's okay, Y/n," Harry said, and he didn't sound mad at all. Maybe just a little hurt, but you had a feeling he was trying his best not to make you feel bad. "I can't be upset that you kept working when I left. That's silly of me."

"It's not," you assured. "I—You're kind of the reason I pushed myself to work with him, and others," you admitted.

"Really?"

Nodding, you said, "I've always worked on my own. Always. But then we started writing together and things just clicked, and when you left, I—I didn't want to deny myself the opportunity to make great music. I mean, you and your team were doing incredible stuff even before I came along. I guess I just wanted to be a part of something great in that way too. Mitch helped introduce me to a new artist and we collaborated on a project of our own. I didn't...I didn't want to go back to being alone again.

"But it isn't the same," you said, stopping Harry in his tracks. Looking up at him, you smiled, for no other reason than he was there and he was yours. "We...We work differently together. You have to know that."

Harry's responding grin was small. "It is quite magical, isn't it?"

Reaching up on your toes, you kissed him, your hand cupping his cheek gently. The kiss was slow, gentle, a reassurance for the both of you. When you leaned back, yours and Harry's cheeks were flushed as you grinned brightly at each other.

As you slid into the passenger seat of Harry's car, you said, "I can't believe you'd be jealous of Mitch."

Harry ducked his head bashfully. "Oh hush. I was not."

"He's your best friend, H," you giggled. "Not to mention very, very taken."

"I believe I mentioned it was silly, didn't I?"

Taking his hand, you kissed the top of it. "You did."

Harry peeled out of his parking space, promising to make it up to you as he handed his phone over to choose the playlist for the ride home.

When you unlocked his phone, the home screen wasn't what popped up. Instead, the messages app was open, a string of messages that hadn't been replied to yet, going back a few weeks.

Can we talk?

I miss you. I miss us.

The silent treatment is childish, H.

Please call me.

Your hands suddenly felt cold and clammy, and Harry's phone nearly slipped out of them and onto the floor.

"Everything okay?"

Harry's voice dragged you out of whatever headspace you'd been launched into. Looking up, you mustered a smile, hoping the car's darkness would mask how flimsy it truly was.

"Yeah. Fine," you said, your voice not sounding like your own.

Quickly exiting out of the app, you pulled up his music, choosing a playlist at random before setting his phone down in the cup holder.

You felt like you were on one of those theme park rides, the ones that reach the heights of tall buildings just to fall straight down. You felt weightless, but not in a good way. It was as if you were falling and there was nowhere safe to land. That feeling in your stomach only grew until you were sure you were going to be sick.

Harry continued on none the wiser, chatting about this and that. You weren't exactly sure what he said, his voice was suddenly white noise. But you must've given him coherent responses because he didn't question your behavior. The only time he did was when you didn't invite him up to your apartment.

"I'm just really tired," you managed to say. "One too many margaritas, I guess."

Not putting up too much of a fight, Harry grinned and gave you a kiss. Despite the dread you felt, it still filled you with butterflies. You cared for him so much you didn't know what to do with yourself sometimes. And now there was...this.

"I'll call you tomorrow," he said, a sweet smile on his face.

He acted as if nothing was wrong, and it was convincing too. Almost to the point that you wanted to believe it too. Those messages were days old, save the most recent one, and Harry hadn't replied to any of them. That had to mean something.

Right?

*.*

After mentioning what you found to Sylvia, she demanded that what you needed was retail therapy. Shopping wasn't your favorite pastime, but you desperately needed a friend.

You met with her at an outdoor shopping mall, bundled up in your softest sweatshirt and puffy coat for comfort more than because of the weather. You hadn't wanted to go out at all today, or the last couple days since you saw Harry's messages. There had been an attempt to have Sylvia just come over so you could day drink together, but she wasn't having it.

So now you were wading through store after store, internally freaking out about where your relationship was headed. It was just getting off the ground, and now it was crumbling before your eyes. Harry was none the wiser, of course, but that was only because he was busy this week and you pretended to be busy because you weren't sure if you could keep it together in front of him. You needed a third-party perspective, a voice of reason before you sat down and talked to him about all this.

"You wanna tell me what happened?" Sylvia asked gently.

One thing you liked about Sylvia was that she was bold and brash and didn't try to mince her words, but you appreciated her tone now. Friend of Harry's first or not, she was here for you, and seeing as there weren't many people you could turn to, you needed her now more than ever. You could talk to your brothers, but you didn't want them to come out and hurt him. You would go to them if there was something serious going on.

"I...I thought we were finally on the same page," you said, and then it all came spilling out of you. You replayed that night in Harry's car as you combed through a rack of dresses. Sylvia was quiet through all of it, not saying anything until you were finished. "I don't know what to do. Is he—I never asked because it wasn't really my business, but he was clearly torn up over their break up. Do you think it's possible that he's not over her?"

Because that was what kept you up at night. Before he left, Harry hadn't been ready for a relationship. You knew there wasn't an exact timeline for healing a broken heart, but the seed of doubt had been planted, and now all you could think about was him leaving you for his ex. The thought terrified you. It made you want to run before you learned the truth, spare yourself the trouble of looking like an idiot.

But you called Sylvia instead, knowing running was not the best option, even if it was the most familiar.

"Oh, babe," she sighed. "I'm not going to lie, Harry was in love with her. They were...there's no other way to put it. They loved each other."

The whimper that escaped your lips was an accident, and when Sylvia heard it, she pulled you in for a hug. "He was in love with her," she repeated as she ran a soothing hand up and down your back. "I truly believe he's moved on Y/n. Harry wouldn't do that to you."

"But what about her?" you said. "She wants him back, and he—he didn't tell me that she's been reaching out, and I just can't help but feel like their history will win out."

"I don't think you realize how happy you make him," Sylvia said. "Yes, Harry loved her, but they broke up for a reason. I don't see him giving things a second go, especially now that he's with you. He's happy, Y/n. He's happy because you make him happy. I'm sure there's a reasonable explanation for all this. You just have to sit down and hear him out."

"You really think so?"

"He lights up at the mere mention of your name. You—You're like the sun to him," Sylvia promised. "So don't run from this, okay? Talk to him. Hear him out. Make him sweat a little for keeping this from you, but you owe it to yourself to hear his side of things."

You nodded, feeling a little reassured by what she'd said. You wouldn't feel a hundred percent until you talked things out with Harry, but this is a good start. At the very least, it kept you from wanting to run and hide from all this.

Laughing a little, you wiped a stray tear from your eye. "You know, when you said you were Harry's life coach, I didn't imagine you'd end up being mine too."

"It's what I'm good for," she said. "Now, let's see about doing a little shopping, hm? Ooh! And maybe we get our nails done."

Looping her arm through yours, she dragged you into the next aisle, feeling lighter with every step you took.

*.*

"Where is he? I'll kill him!"

This was the third time you'd heard that in the last couple of hours.

"Stand down, Hayden," you said from beneath your mountain of blankets. "He's not here."

Your brother's eyes widened as he looked in your direction, as if he didn't expect the pile of blankets to speak. He stalked over to where Andrew and Evan were standing in front of you, taking on a perplexed disposition. None of your brothers had ever really seen you this way. All the pranks, all the times they royally pissed you off when you were younger, you never really let it get to you. You could tell that although they wanted to be here for you, they weren't entirely sure how.

"Are you okay?"

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Just let me know where he is, Y/n."

They were doing their best to help, and you knew you owed them answers. You did call them after all. Well, that wasn't entirely true. You called Evan, who proceeded to call Andrew because your younger brother was closest in proximity to you. And Andrew called Hayden because of course he did. It was sweet that they all dropped everything to come see you, but now you felt put on the spot.

And you knew Hayden would make good on his word, and your other two brothers would have no trouble helping him, and that wasn't exactly what you wanted.

"I ended things with Harry," you said quietly.

"You said as much in your text, Y/n," Evan said. "But what happened? It seemed like you guys were really happy."

The thought of last night's events replayed in your mind, bringing a fresh wave of tears to the surface. Taking a shuddering breath, you said, "I thought we were too."

It all started last night at this party Harry invited you too. Something about fundraising and live music and dancing, and he said it was the perfect opportunity to get dressed up and go out and not worry about being photographed. You agreed, wanting to put the text messages from his ex that had yet to be discussed far from your mind. You knew you should've said something, but you wanted to give Harry the opportunity to come clean himself. The fact that he hadn't kept you up at night, but you promised yourself—and Sylvia—that you would bring it up after the party.

"Just one more night of normalcy before we have this conversation," you assured her. It was all you wanted. Just one night where this cloud wasn't hanging over your head.

So you went. Harry picked you up in a sports car that usually sat in his garage, practically mauling you when he saw you in your dress. It was simple, but you felt great in it—a short black number with white ruffles at the top and bottom. With your hair blown out and curled to perfection, little pearl droplets hanging from your ears, you felt like a dream, and every time Harry's gaze fell on you to track your figure up and down, your entire body was filled with butterflies.

And the night carried on perfectly. You and Harry sipped on champagne and kept to yourselves most of the night. You didn't really know anyone, and he was perfectly happy to keep you all to himself, kissing your cheeks and neck whenever he could, his hand never leaving your waist for a moment. It was exactly what you needed to take your mind off everything that had been swirling around in your head the last few days. When Harry was dancing and spinning you around in and out of his arms in a corner of the event space, it felt like you were the only two people to exist. There was no way he had any lingering feelings for his ex when he was smiling so brightly and laughing as you spun him out and back into your arms.

And then...it all just fell apart.

"Harry?"

At the sound of the woman's voice, Harry dropped your hand, coming to an abrupt halt beside you. You looked up, confused by the tension that suddenly lined his shoulders, but when you looked at the women who'd come up to your little corner, you just knew.

"H—Hi." Harry sounded breathless, his eyes never leaving hers once. All you could do was watch it all unfold in slow motion, all you could feel was the loss of his touch now that his hand was no longer in yours.

You cleared your throat when Harry didn't say anything. It was as if you had to pull him from whatever trance he'd fallen into at the mere sight of her. Dread filled your belly as he seemed to remember where he was, as he remembered you were there, blinking as he embraced his ex and introduced her to you.

"This is my friend Y/n."

His words felt like a sucker punch, all the air stolen from your lungs. You knew you and Harry hadn't put a label on your relationship, but to hear him refer to you as his friend right in front of his ex was devastating.

Your heart was glass, I dropped it.

Was this what it felt like? You never imagined you would be in this position, you never thought you would love someone enough to feel like you were coming undone at the seams at this kind of rejection. But perhaps that was just the universe coming to collect after thoroughly breaking someone else's heart yourself.

"I—I need some air," you heard yourself saying, not even looking to see if Harry noticed you leave or if he was too caught up in seeing his ex.

You didn't just get air, you Ubered home, unable to handle everything rushing through you. That was when you texted Evan, who merely responded with, I'm on my way, and twenty-four hours later, he was there, along with Hayden and Andrew.

You explained to your brothers what happened briefly, doing your best to not go into detail so you wouldn't start crying uncontrollably, though you'd be surprised if you had any tears left. You mostly just felt defeated, almost as if deep down you knew the happiness wasn't meant to last.

"He's an idiot, Y/n," Andrew said, resting a hand on Buddy's head to scratch him behind the ears. Your dog had been resting by your side since you came back last night, somehow sensing your despair. "Don't let him steal your happiness."

You nodded, but only because you had nothing else to say. You knew your brother meant well, but you just didn't believe him. This was par for the course in your eyes. Of course, when you fell for someone, they chose someone else. Maybe you were destined to be on your own, maybe love was overrated.

"Do you need anything?" Evan asked you, Hayden standing next to you. You could tell that they didn't really know what to do in this situation but that they wanted to be there for you. It was sweet, but there really wasn't anything to do.

"I'm okay," you said, convincing no one. "I think I might just take a nap."

"We can take Buddy for a walk. Maybe grab some food while we're out," Evan said. "Andrew, why don't you stay here and make sure she doesn't text him."

You rolled your eyes. "I literally just said I was going to sleep—"

"On it," Andrew said, hopping up to take your phone from where it was resting on your kitchen counter and slipping it into his pocket.

It was utterly ridiculous, but you were sure that was what your brothers were going for. The four of you weren't the touchy-feely type, you never had been. But one thing your brothers could count on was their ability to make you smile, make you laugh. And that was maybe exactly what you needed.

Making good on your word, you retired to your room, but you didn't sleep a wink despite how exhausted you were. Instead, you stayed up listening to records, shared favorites of yours and Harry's, the ones you bonded over together. It was hard to imagine that after such deep connections, the number of stories shared and late nights talking over bottles of red wine. Harry meant so much to you, and it killed you to think you didn't mean as much to him.

At some point, you must've dozed off—your eyes fluttering shut to the sound of Joni Mitchell—because suddenly you were jolting awake with a start. Muffled shouts could be heard through your closed door, which could only mean one thing.

Taking a couple minutes to wake up a little more and bolster yourself for unwanted confrontation, you finally stepped out of your room. The voices grew louder as you walked down the hall—Andrew kept telling Harry to leave while Harry claimed he just wanted to talk to you. You weren't sure if you were ready for this conversation yet, but it was here whether you liked it or not, and it would probably be for the best before Evan and Hayden came back or the argument happening at your front door drew unwanted attention.

"You can let him in."

Your voice was quiet, but not unsteady, which came as a surprise to you. It surprised your brother and the person who would've been your boyfriend too, their argument ceasing immediately as they looked over at you.

"Y/n," Harry breathed.

For better or for worse, he looked about as awful as you felt. There were bags under his eyes, and he was in the clothes he wore to the party last night. His tan trousers were rumpled, belt missing; his satin shirt was heavily wrinkled, the buttons mismatched in the wrong holes. His hair was a mess too, as if he'd been tossing and turning all night.

You didn't like seeing him like this, hated it, in fact. This wasn't supposed to be yours and Harry's story. You thought both of you had experienced the heartbreak and had found each other on the other side of it. Now you felt like you were right back where you started, and you hated it.

"I don't think that's a good idea," Andrew said, glancing warily between you and Harry. "Hayden and Evan will be back soon—"

"It's fine, Andrew. I promise," you told him, stepping closer to the front door cautiously, worrying that getting too close would ensnare you in Harry's magnetic pull. One whiff of his cologne might send you right into his arms, where your heart still thought it was safe. "Keep them occupied for me?"

It was clear that Andrew didn't agree with you on this decision. He stood there by the door for a long while, trying to assess your mental state. But he finally relented, taking a few steps toward you to hug you tightly. "Don't be afraid to give him hell," he murmured in your ear. Then, after passing back your phone, he left, but not before glaring murderously in Harry's direction.

When you and Harry were finally alone, your apartment was silent for the first time in hours. Almost too silent. Harry just stared at you with this broken look in his eyes, and you...you couldn't dredge up the energy to start this conversation. It was clear Harry didn't either. You watched as he opened and closed his mouth a few times, but you had no desire to help him out.

"Can we sit?" he finally asked, his voice sounding tired and raw.

Unable to handle the look in his those devastated green eyes, you looked down at where your sweatshirt engulfed your hands. "I'd prefer it if we didn't."

Sitting meant forced proximity, and you were already pushing yourself to have this conversation. This distance between you and Harry would be where you drew the line.

"Oh," Harry said, sounding surprised. "Okay. I—I don't know what else to say other than I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry, Y/n."

"For what exactly?" you asked, not expecting the bitterness in your tone.

"For making it seem like we were just friends in front of her, for freezing last night. I—She'd been texting me the last few days and I've ignored her, but I didn't expect to see her."

"I know about the texts," you found yourself saying.

It was clear Harry hadn't expected that. A look of confusion passed over his face as he asked, "Wh—Why didn't you say anything?"

"Why didn't you?" you said, unable to hide the hurt, the betrayal.

"It was nothing, and I didn't want to bring any attention to it. I thought if I just ignored her enough, she would stop, and she did eventually stop, but then I saw her last night, and I didn't want to make her feel worse by showing her I'd moved on—"

"But you haven't," you said. "You're...protecting her. Sparing her feelings while fucking me over. I—I could've gotten over the texts. I wanted to give you the benefit of the doubt because you hadn't responded to her. But watching you call me your friend was such a slap in the face."

"I'm sorry, I fucked up. I know I did," Harry said, tears pooling in his eyes.

You could tell he meant it. You knew he realized what he'd done was shitty, but could you move on from it?

"I believe that you're sorry," you said. At that, something like hope flickered in his face, but you snuffed it out just as quickly as it came. "But I also think you still have unresolved feelings for her. And I—I don't want to be second to you. Not in that way."

"So that's it?"

You knew Harry like the back of your hand. You knew what the little quiver of his lip meant, understood the tight clench of his fists around the hem of his shirt. You could read every line of emotion on his face, and you wondered if he could pick you apart the same way.

"You know, all this time we've bonded over our respective heartbreak as if our pain was the same," you said, more to yourself than to him. "But what I'm realizing now, what I started to realize last night, was that mine stemmed from feelings of inadequacy, of never being enough for someone. I broke up with someone because I wasn't in love with them, and that devastated me. But you...no matter how the relationship fell apart or who ended it, you loved her, and she loved you. That feeling doesn't just wash away with the evening tide."

"Y/n—"

"And that's...that's okay, you know?" you continued. "You loved her. Love her. That's not a bad thing. But—But I'm in love with you too, and I can't—I'm not going to compete with someone who already has your heart. I won't."

Tears kissed your cheeks as you blinked. Your hands shook, but your voice was clear. Harry could deny it all he wanted, but you saw the truth laid bare before you. You weren't the only person occupying space in his heart, and after everything you'd been through, you didn't want to settle for anything less than what you deserved.

"That's not true, Y/n," Harry implored. He looked a little frantic now that he knew your mind was practically made up. "I fucked up, I know that. I saw her, and I froze. It was just—"

An instinct, a gut reaction, that was what he didn't want to say. "I don't want someone's initial reaction to be to let go of my hand," you said softly, wiping away a tear with a sleeve-covered hand. "I want—"

Your mom's ring in your pocket, my picture in your wallet. That song you'd written all those months ago, the one that held your deepest regrets and insecurities, all the little things you'd run from. You didn't want to run from it anymore. You thought you found someone to run toward, but you were wrong.

"I don't want what we have to be over, Y/n," Harry pleaded.

I don't believe you, you thought, and you couldn't be with him if you didn't trust his sincerity. "I think you need more time," you said instead of voicing what you felt.

"There's no convincing how much I feel for you, is there?" he said, sounding resigned to the fate that had come to pass.

You shook your head, your heart begging you to hold onto him and not let go, to drag him to bed and sleep until you both forgot. But you didn't do any of those things. "No. Not right now."

Harry finally bridged the gap between you and him. He kept a sliver of distance, the only contact he made being gentle fingers tilting your chin so you'd meet his eye. There was so much emotion swirling there, and you longed to kiss away all the anguish and pain until only love was left, but that wasn't in the cards. Not today, or in the days that would follow.

"I promised you that I wouldn't leave again," Harry said, his gaze unrelenting. Your brow furrowed, not recalling when he made that promise, but he continued before you could ask. "Not in the ways that count anyway, but I intend to keep that promise, Y/n. If you want space, I'll give it to you, but don't think for one second that I won't spend every single moment we're apart wishing we were together. I'll spend the rest of my life making it up to you if that's what it takes."

It was a surprise your body didn't turn to jello on the spot, that Harry couldn't hear the steady thump of your heart as it beat wildly in your chest. He said all the right things, every perfect word, but right now, that was all they were. And you didn't have it in you to believe him.

"I'm sorry that I did this to us, to you," he said. "I'll never not be sorry. "

Harry stood there, his fingers gingerly holding your chin, for a few moments longer. It was as if he was imploring you to read the message in his eyes, to understand everything he wasn't saying, but you just didn't have the energy.

When he finally left, one last promise that wasn't giving up on you and him yet on his lips before the door clicked shut, all the warmth in your body went with him. You briefly thought of all the times you clung to him to warm up, slipping his hands beneath his shirts and sweaters and nuzzling your face in his neck.

That last touch of Harry's fingers to your chin wasn't enough, not nearly enough, and now he was gone. The person you fell in love with, who knew you better than anyone else in the world, walked out the door, head held high as if this wouldn't be the last time you'd be standing so close.

You weren't convinced. Not when all your mind wanted to replay was his hand dropping yours, his dismissal of your relationship, and his disregard for your feelings to protect those of his ex.

*.*

You didn't see Harry in the weeks that followed, but you weren't sure if that had more to do with him working on his album. Sylvia kept you semi-updated, even though you insisted you were fine with not knowing what he was up to. It was a lie, of course, and she saw right through it, letting you know when Harry was gone for music video shoots, recording and producing music, album cover shoots, and meetings with his label.

Part of you was grateful he wasn't around because it made keeping your distance easier. After everything that happened, you convinced yourself Harry didn't know what he wanted, even if he claimed he was. The proof had been right in front of you, though, clear as day. There were unresolved feelings lingering in the corners of Harry's heart and mind, and he needed to deal with them or get back together with his ex, but you wanted no part of it.

That wasn't to say Harry wasn't on your mind. He was there constantly, taking up space and making you lose focus while writing or walking your dog. You'd never been in love before, and now that everything had imploded, you didn't know how to make it stop.

“Y/n?”

Blinking, you looked up to where Mitch stared at you, an acoustic guitar in his lap. You weren't sure why you agreed to meet with him for a writing session. You hadn't written much since everything fell apart, save the occasional depressing poem, but when Mitch reached out, you figured it was as good a time as any to get back to work and start writing again.

In theory, it was a good idea, but your heart just wasn't in it. It was thousands of miles away shooting a music video.

"Sorry, I thought this would be a good idea, but my head is just all over the place," you said, closing your notebook that only had a few disconnected lines written down.

"I'm sorry about everything," Mitch said. "I know it probably doesn't mean much coming from me, but he really does care about you. Like a lot."

"I know," you said dejectedly. "But he...he still loves her, I think. Or cares for her more than he lets on. Maybe even more than he realizes."

That night, you realized you had a losing hand. You didn't want to run like you'd done with Gavin, but you didn't want to fight either. You just felt...defeated, as if the fickle promise of love had bested you again.

"I can promise you he doesn't, but I know that's between you and him," Mitch said. Nodding to the journal in your lap, he asked, "Can I see?"

Shrugging, you handed it over. At this point, Mitch had learned a lot about you by being your writing partner, so you didn't mind him flipping through it. And honestly, there wasn't much to show anyway. A couple of measly lines did not a song make.

Mitch was quiet as he looked over the few things you'd written down, his expression gloriously passive as always. Since you started writing together, you'd struggled to read his expressions, not knowing what he thought until he voiced his opinion.

"Well, shit, kid," Mitch murmured on an exhale.

"What?"

Mitch looked up, one brow raised. Then, he began to read lines from your journal. "You've got my devotion, but man I can hate you sometimes...My hand's a risk I fold...Test of my patience, there's things that we'll never—"

"Hey wait a minute, that's not from today," you said, reaching for your journal. Mitch managed to land on one of your poems from a few days ago. That definitely wasn't meant to be part of today's writing session. "Give that back."

"This is good, Y/n. There's a song in here," Mitch insisted.

"Oh please. That's a terribly depressing poem fueled by a bottle of wine."

He pinned you with a stare, but you ignored it, and he eventually let it go. You didn't stay in the studio much longer after that, realizing that not much was going to come out of this session. And Mitch had to leave too, having to catch a redeye to London. "We're finishing up the album there," he explained.

It dawned on you then that you would be alone again. After becoming so used to having a partner of some kind while writing, too. It shouldn't have affected you so much, but it did. Somehow you'd grown to appreciate company while you were writing, and now your two favorite writing partners were leaving. They were the only two you'd ever had, but as history had shown, you weren't a huge fan of change.

You'd grown comfortable, but now the ground was shaking and crumbling beneath you. Though perhaps that should've been the familiar feeling.

"Can I keep the song?" Mitch asked on your way out of the studio. "I have an idea."

This time, you could read what was on your friend's face. And you could sense it, somehow. He wanted to show it to Harry. For the album, or because Mitch felt Harry needed to read the words. At this point, you were emotionally drained, and you weren't going to be there when Harry read your little poem, anyway. What did it matter?

"That's fine," you said, tearing the page out of your journal. "Don't be a stranger, okay? We can still collaborate over the phone or voice notes or whatever."

You thought that was where you and Mitch would leave things, but then he asked, "Do you think you'll ever write with him again?"

Harry was so much more than the person you were in love with. He was your friend, your first ever writing partner, someone you'd confided in. But he was also the person who made you feel betrayal and heartache. You didn't know how to reconcile those two people.

"I don't know," you said honestly. "I hope so."

*.*

There wasn't a single moment where Harry didn't think of Y/n while they were apart. He'd done what she'd asked of him, gave them the space to heal and settle. Harry understood where she was coming from, and he knew that he'd hurt her more than he ever imagined he would.

Everything fell apart so completely, too quickly for him to even pick up the pieces.

He knew he should've told her about the texts the minute he received them, and he couldn't really pinpoint why he didn't. It was in no way to hurt Y/n, or to protect his ex; honestly, he should've just deleted them as they came, but he didn't, and things only went downhill from there.

Harry didn't want space, he knew what he wanted, who he wanted. But he also knew that what he'd done, how he behaved, gave Y/n every right to push him away and not trust him. All he knew was that he'd never regretted anything more than seeing the devastated look on her face when they ran into his ex.

He couldn't take back what he'd done, all he could do was try to make things right the second Y/n gave him the opportunity. Thankfully, recording and producing his second album kept him busy enough to give her the space she'd asked for. Had he liked being so far away from her, both physically and emotionally? No. Hell no, but he just put everything he was feeling into his music, let it fuel him as he and his team found the sound he was going for with this project.

It wasn't until weeks after they'd ended things that he heard from Y/n. Really, Mitch had passed a folded up piece of paper with song lyrics on it and said it was Y/n's, but Harry was so desperate to get something from her that he'd counted it. "I have an idea for it. I just need you to finish it," Mitch had said.

"Finish it?" Harry asked as he unfolded the paper.

To him it looked like a poem, but Mitch seemed to be convinced it was a song. He read over it briefly, then again, and again and again until he was standing in front of his friend for an awkward amount of time.

"She's speaking to you in this," Mitch explained. "It could be a kind of conversation."

The idea had perplexed him, and at first, Harry had said no. It wasn't until the next evening when he was alone in his flat that he considered the folded piece of paper. He thought about all the songs he'd written with Y/n, the thoughts and feelings they'd shared with each and every lyric and melody. This wasn't the same, not even close. He just wanted things to go back to normal; he wanted to relive the moments where Y/n would sit with her guitar, her journal and his in his lap as they compared notes and ideas.

But this would have to do for now.

He didn't try to get in Y/n's head, to try to understand what she might've been feeling at the time she wrote the poem, though he had a pretty good idea. Harry merely did what Mitch suggested and responded to the lines already written down, adding them in where he saw fit.

"Put a price on...emotion, I'm looking for...something to buy," he murmured, quickly scribbling the words down before he forgot them. "I don't want to fight you, and I don't want to sleep in the dirt."

Writing this song gave Harry the opportunity to finally let go. Through it he was able to admit that he had been clinging to a crisp trepidation, a fear of giving all of himself over to Y/n with abandon. For a number of reasons—that things with Y/n would end up in flames like all his other relationships (check), that he didn't even know what love looked like anymore after so many failed attempts at finding it, that he wasn't good enough to be someone Y/n deserved, , that he was going to lose her forever if he didn't pull himself together enough for her.

By the time Harry was done, he felt dejected. The finished song was sad, too sad. It was about heartache and fear, it sounded finite. And that wasn't what he wanted his story with Y/n to be.

We'll be fine, he wrote before quickly crossing it our. Fine. Fine. Finefinefinefinefine—

"We'll be a fine line," Harry finally murmured.

He spent the rest of the night figuring out arrangements and melodies, all of it coming together in his head almost faster than he could write it all down. The album was pretty much in the final stretch. At this point, he and his team were finishing up recordings and working on the promotional aspects of the release, but he knew it down to every atom of his being that this song had to be on the album. It was the culmination of everything he'd experienced and felt, every emotion he'd embraced and shied away from. All of it crashed into each other in a blaze of horns and strings.

And maybe when he finally finished working through the main melody on his guitar, something soft and melancholic, yet soothing and hopeful, he should've gone right to sleep. He honestly should've been exhausted after the emotional whirlwind he'd been wrapped up in. Yet he somehow had his phone in his hands, his thumb hovering over a contact before he eventually hit the call button.

"Harry? What—Isn't it like four in the morning over there?"

Harry couldn't stop his breath from hitching when he heard Y/n's voice. He'd missed her so much it physically hurt sometimes. Part of him thought she wouldn't answer his call, but when she did, his entire body sagged with relief.

"I miss you," he said, not caring how pathetic he sounded. "I know I messed up, and I know I hurt you, and you probably were just being nice by suggesting the whole space thing when you really want nothing to do with me ever again—"

"Harry," Y/n said, her voice gently but firm. "Slow down, love."

Harry could've cried at the softness in her tone let alone the term of endearment. All he'd wanted for the last few weeks was to just hear her voice, her his name on her lips in a way that didn't sound hurt or disappointed.

"You were right," he told her. "I—I was holding back from you, and that wasn't fair to either of us, but especially to you. Y/n, I—I'm so sorry."

"I know you are," she whispered. "I think...I think I just wanted you to want me as much as I did."

"I do," Harry promised. "I know I haven't given you much to believe me, but Y/n the way I feel about you is so different than I've ever felt about anyone, and I think part of me was scared of that too after such a tremendous breakup."

For a moment, Y/n was silent over the phone, her breaths filling up his ear and making him long for the moments they spent huddled up in bed together.

"I know...I know we've been here before, but do you think we could try things again?" he asked. He almost didn't want to know, believing that perhaps ignorance really was bliss. But Y/n had put herself out there so many times, had taken so many risks despite everything she'd experienced. He could be brave too.

"What if—What if we started over?" she said.

"Start over?"

"I think we need a clean slate. If you're really and truly over your ex—"

"I am. I swear, Y/n," Harry said, not wanting hope to spark to life in him just yet.

"Then we need to put all of this mess behind us and start fresh."

"I—I'd like that." He couldn't help the grin that spread across his face. When he called Y/n, he worried he'd come off a little crazy due to lack of sleep, but now he worried he might've fallen asleep in a songwriting craze and was now dreaming.

"I, um, I know you offered a few months ago, but if you were still looking for someone to join your band...maybe I could fill that spot?"

"You want to work for me?"

"I wasn't going to put it like that, but I guess technically yes," Y/n said. "I feel like you would pay a fair wage."

Harry chuckled, a satisfied sort of exhaustion taking over him now that he felt like his life was getting back on track. "I'll give you whatever you want if it means you'll join."

He just wanted her close, and if this was what a clean slate looked like to her, then he would oblige. Having her close, playing music together, being surrounded by their friends, it would be exactly what they needed to find their way back to each other.

"You should probably go to bed," Y/n said, breaking the content silence that had settled over them.

"Yeah, probably," Harry agreed, running a tired hand over his face. "So what have you been listening to recently?"

For a moment, he thought she would insist he get some rest. He supposed he'd be okay with it, finding peace in the fact things were finally looking up for them. But then she answered, and Harry was sure he'd never be able to wipe the smile from his face as he listened to his girl.

*.*

Months later

"Are you in love with Harry?"

The question wasn't directed at you, but you felt your cheeks redden immediately.

Sarah, who was much more quick on the draw than you would've been, smiled and said, "We all are, yeah."

You forced a soft laugh, unsure of where to direct your gaze. This whole interview had been one huge vat of chaos—and blatant misogyny—from the start, but Harry had conducted himself well so far, not balking or raising his voice once at the invasive and downright rude questions that were thrown at him. Perhaps you should've expected a question like this today, but you still struggled to keep your face neutral.

"So there's nothing going on romantically with Harry and the ladies?"

You suddenly found the keyboard in front of you incredibly interesting. What you really needed in this moment was a reassuring glance from Harry, but that would defeat the purpose of keeping your budding relationship a secret.

Attention from the public was still something you were getting used to. You'd gotten into songwriting because it was out of the public eye, but being with Harry would eventually lead you right into it. Not that you minded, you'd do whatever it took to be with him. But interviews like this one still left you feeling flustered.

"And who's back there on keys?"

Even though they were all your friends, you still felt your face flush as red as the leather skirt you wore for the interview.

"Y/n."

"That's Y/n."

"How are you doing back there, Y/n?"

"Fine," you managed to say, your voice barely above a squeak.

Risking a glance at Harry, you met his gaze. He gave you an encouraging smile, and it bolstered your confidence the slightest bit. Just enough to get you through this brief conversation.

"Just fine? Does Harry make you nervous?"

"Maybe Y/n's the one who's in love with him."

"Or maybe she just wants to fuck him!"

An awkward silence fell over the room after the interviewers' comments and questions. You didn't even know what to say, or how you were expected to respond. Feeling the sympathetic stares from the rest of the band, you took a deep breath and tried not to cry, feeling extremely embarrassed.

Harry's jaw ticked, and you were pretty sure you were the only one who noticed. It was the first time he'd reacted to any of the questions asked today. And you could see it in his face that he was beyond pissed off.

This wasn't what you expected, and clearly Harry hadn't expected it either. But you also didn't want him to storm off and make a big scene. You just wanted to get through today and go home and rest with Buddy and Sweet Pea while you and Harry watched a movie together in bed. That thought kept you grounded, and you tried your hardest to convey to Harry that you were okay without saying anything.

"I, um, I met Harry in the studio in LA," you said, trying to sound more confident than you felt.

"Really?"

"Yeah, Y/n's a songwriter, but she's generously lent her fabulous keyboarding skills to us this year," Harry said.

"A songwriter?" You felt the interviewer's gaze sweep over you, as if he couldn't quite believe it.

Another tick of Harry's jaw.

"Yeah. But I've enjoyed doing this too. Traveling and performing with Sarah's band," you said, a meek attempt at a joke.

"You must be getting laid a lot on the road as a proper rockstar now. You could probably get whoever you wanted. Well, maybe not Harry, but close to anyone. Are you taking advantage of being on the road with Harry? A new man every night?"

You swallowed thickly, the will not to cry hanging on by a thread. "I—I don't think my brothers be cool with—"

"Shut the fuck up, mate."

Shocked silence filled the room. Clearly, the interviewers didn't expect someone as laid back as Harry to speak up that way. A mix of relief and unease washed over you, unsure of how the rest of the interview was going to pan out now. But you couldn't say you didn't feel relieved that he'd spoken up.

"Harry, we're only—"

"You're being fucking disrespectful to the members of my band, and I'm not fucking putting up with it. Either ask me your fucking questions or let me go. My band and I aren't putting up with your bullshit."

Harry hadn't wanted to come here. He knew the reputation of the interviewer, but it had still somehow made it onto the list of interviews and appearances to promote the album. You'd watched as he grew more and more irritated with each question, but he seemed to take them in stride. But the minute they were directed at you, he'd snapped.

A brief break in the interview ensued, producers suggesting that a couple minutes to regroup would do everyone some good. When everyone was ready to record again, a stilted topic change led Harry to introduce and talk about the Peter Gabriel song they were about to play. The rest of the interview teetered between overly professional and awkward. You could tell by the tense line of Harry's shoulders that he wanted to be anywhere else.

At some point while Harry was talking, Sarah looked over at you. "You okay?" she mouthed, and you nodded subtly, giving her a tiny thumbs up from behind your keyboard setup. Everyone in the band knew about you and Harry. It was hard to hide your relationship when he was by your side whenever you weren't rehearsing a song, and like Mitch and Sarah, he was almost always facing you during rehearsals. It was sweet how he was always pulling you aside during lunch breaks and sitting beside you on the piano bench. One time, when Harry had a film crew film a performance of each song on the album, he asked if the recording of "Fine Line" could just be you and him. Both of you sat on stools with your respective guitars as you performed a stripped-back version of the song, your voice supporting Harry's with a soft harmony occasionally. It was a special moment for the two of you, especially because the song meant so much.

After that, there were no questions about what you meant to each other.

At the end of the interview, Harry was quick to leave, hardly sparing anyone a glance as he stalked out. You stayed back to break down your equipment like you normally did, your hands shaking a little as the desire to comfort Harry took over.

"Go, I got this," Mitch said, coming over to help.

"Really?"

Mitch nodded before bumping his shoulder against yours. "Yeah. We still on for dinner tonight?"

You nodded. "Might have to be at my apartment, though. I don't think he'll be up for going out."

You left soon after that, walking out of the recording room where the interview had taken place. The green room was down the hall, and you entered despite the closed door. "It's me," you said quietly before entering, closing the door behind you with a soft click.

Harry was already out of his blue sweater and green trousers, a pair of brown corduroys on as he shrugged into a yellow t-shirt. He looked up briefly, then looked back down again as he slipped a pair of Vans on.

"How are you feeling?"

"Mad, upset, guilty," he said with a shrug.

"Why on earth do you feel guilty, love?"

"That never should've fucking happened," he seethed, but in Harry fashion, it just meant his voice was clipped and low as he tried to get a handle on his anger. "You didn't deserve that. I should've stood up for you."

"I...You did, H." You didn't want to say that it was okay, because obviously the whole situation wasn't, but you knew he wasn't to blame. The topic of him sticking up for you was a touchy one. "You were put in a tough position, yet you still put those assholes in their place. Let's just go home and forget about all this shit, okay?"

Harry nodded, but he still wouldn't meet your eye, which wasn't going to work for you one bit.

"Hey," you said, tilting his chin up with your fingertips. "Don't beat yourself up. Please? For me?"

For the first time since the midpoint of the interview, Harry grinned. He threaded his fingers through yours before giving you a kiss, his lips soft and familiar against yours. You felt some of the tension leave his body until he eventually pulled away and draped an arm over your shoulders, your hands still connected.

"Never fucking coming to this place again," Harry murmured on the way out, keeping you tucked closely to his side.

"Amen to that."

Harry looked down at you, the anger and frustration finally clearing from his eyes. When it came to you, to your feelings, he was very protective. And you were too, in your own way. You leaned on each other, supported each other, and spent time together without ever being sick of one another. There was no doubt in your mind that he loved you, and even though it might put him in hot water with his management or the interviewer, it meant a lot to you that he stood up for you the way he did. You didn't need him to throw punches or push people up against walls—honestly, that was what your brothers were for—but when it all boiled down, he put you and your feelings first, always and without question.

"I love you," he murmured, his thumb rubbing circles over the top of your hand.

"Even with my crazy brothers?"

"Even with your crazy brothers."

"Hm. Even when Buddy steals your spot on the bed?"

"Even then."

"Even in the mornings when my feet are cold and they brush up against your legs?"

When Harry didn't answer right away, you playfully pinched his side until he laughed and kissed the top of your head. "Babe, I'm gonna love you on your worst day, you know that."

And even though you did, your cheeks became rosy, your whole body tingling with warmth. "Good. Because I love you too. So much."

So much pain had been felt, so much devastation had been endured before you and Harry fell into a perfect rhythm. It wasn't easy, and if you were to look back at the girl who believed she was fucked in the head and incapable and undeserving of love and being loved, you would still think it was all worth it. You would endure it all again if it led you to this moment, if it ended up with Harry cradling your heart of glass in his hands and protecting it as if it was his own.

Hand in hand, you went home and didn't look back at the shattered glass you'd long since left behind.

#harry styles #harry styles angst #harry styles blurb #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #harry styles oneshot #harry styles writing #harry styles fluff #harry styles x you #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic #fine line

[luvrxbunny]

pressure

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x F!Reader

Prompt: Collar

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, piv, unprotected sex  (lmk if I forgot anything)

WC: 2.0k

A/N: my brain is melted guys- i blacked out idek if this is good or not (not proofread)

He did this because he thought it’d be easy, he thought it’d be a simple way to please you, earn him some boyfriend points… but now he can barely focus. He didn’t realize that there would be this constant pressure over where the leather strap wrapped around his neck. A constant reminder of what he was wearing for you. 

You came to him this morning before he left for work and proposed the idea. “I just- I have this cute little collar and you’re basically a cat so..!” He didn’t understand why you wanted him to wear it, but he wanted to make you happy, you had this desperate, pleading look in your eyes that he can never say no to. So he took the collar and clipped it over his neck. At first, he just thought it was too tight, that it’d loosen throughout the day but it never did. You’d come over occasionally and run your fingers over where it slightly bulges through his suit, reminding him of its presence. You’d stick your finger down the back of his neck and hook your finger into it, restricting his air every so slightly, and his cock hardened some more every time you did.

He’s trying to finish some stats that were supposed to be done three hours ago but he can feel his pulse against the collar, almost blurring his vision from how hard his blood is pumping, how his cock is throbbing in time with it all. You haven’t come around to check on him in a little while and although he thought it was an unnecessary tease, he’s craving it now. He’s pouting and upset over the fact that it’s been over an hour since you walked through his office uselessly. His hands keep freezing over his keyboard, balling into a fist repeatedly as he fights the urge to touch himself. Thoughts of you cause ripples of arousal to shoot through him and his neck strains against his collar to hold any sounds in. 

He heads to his bathroom to splash some water on his face, focus, and finish his work. He looks up into the mirror while patting his face with a towel and something catches his eye; a tint of red peaking from the top of his suit. He dissipates the hologram and his knees almost give out at what he sees. His skin is rubbed red all around where the collar digs into him, marking him, so that even after he takes this off you’ve still got him on your leash. He puts his suit back up and rushes to your office, he has enough brainpower to grab some files and give himself a ‘reason’ to be there. 

Lucky him, your blinds are already shut and no one will question him closing your door behind him. So it’s exactly what he does. You peek from around your computer to see who’s entered your office and your face lights up when you see who it is. You stand and approach him, your eyes on the files in his hand, not even realizing the state he’s in. “Are these the Earth-1045 stats?” You pull them from his hands and start flipping through the papers, confusion blossoming over your face as you realize these are random pages. “Miguel, what are these…” Your sentence dies down as you look up at him. His eyes are dilated and frantically scanning over your face, his chest is heaving, and his breaths are fanning over your face. 

You put the papers down and rest a hand on his chest, the other going to his head to check his temperature- thinking he’s sick rather than aroused. “Are you okay?” You ask, genuine concern dripping from every word. His hand is trembling, it’s barely noticeable but you can feel it once he grabs your wrist and pulls it off his forehead. Your brows furrow in confusion as he brings your hand below his chin but everything clicks into place once your fingertips slide over the collar. Your eyes snap back to his and his eyelids are fluttering and his hand leaves yours, reaching for your face instead and pulling you in for a kiss. You leave your hand on his throat as he kisses you, sliding your finger up his neck to feel him shiver against you.

“Me estas arruinando.” You whimper at his words, at how destroyed he already sounds. You didn’t think he be this affected by the collar, it was more to test how far he would go to please you. You were barely intrigued by the idea when you first came up with it but your interest grew and it’s doubled today alone. Seeing him walking around like normal but you know he’s collared under the suit, was doing something to you that you hadn’t expected. He shudders out a breath against your lips once you pull away, your head tilts with a soft “Yeah?” slipping from your mouth like a tease before you can stop it. Your fingers are stroking over the leathers mindlessly but his eyes are rolled back behind his shut lids at the feeling. 

(“You're ruining me.”)

You’re being so soft with him, such a contrast to how you’re devastating him. He’s never felt so turned on, so wound up, it’s like every nerve in his body had turned into a live wire and you’re the only one who can fix him. He needs you in a way he didn’t know was possible, deep in his bones and sown into the fabric of his soul. You were made for him and he was made for you. You know him better than he knows himself, proving it every second you’re with him. 

Your hands flex over his neck, squeezing tighter for a second and he reacts to it. He growls into the kiss and his arms wrap around you roughly, scooping you from the ground and walking toward your desk. He doesn’t let you break this kiss, his lips chase yours as far as they can every time you try to pull away. He places you on your desk and you moan at the way he grabs your face and holds it against his. Your hands are clawing at his suit, you know you can’t take it off but your brain is cloudy with desperation. After failing repeatedly, you’re able to think enough to slide your hands to the base of his neck, slide under his collar, and pull him back. He finally separates from your lips with a groan. “Take your suit off, sweetheart.”

His adam’s apple is bobbing as he tries to clear his head, his hooded eyes on you and his teeth digging into his bottom lip harshly. His hand reaches behind you and fidgets with his watch until he’s naked in front of you, his cock crying against his stomach for you. He leans in to start kissing you again but you place your hands on his chest to stare at him for a moment. His big, muscular build, shaking before you, his cock leaking down his shaft and a pretty, baby pink collar with a metal heart in the middle, wrapped around his thick neck. His cheeks are tinted red with his ears and chest, and his hands are dutifully behind his back, putting himself on complete display for you. 

“So pretty.” You smile at him and dissipate your own suit, putting yourself on display for him. He lurches for you but hesitates, checking your face to see if it’s okay and something about the action has you leaking onto your desk. “You can come fuck me, amor.” His knees almost gave out at your words but instead, he rushed over to you. He cleared some documents off your desk, internally promising to reorganize them for you later. He spreads your legs without a second thought and moans at the sight before him, your lips spreading to reveal your creamy, glistening hole. He presses himself against you, one hand slides behind his neck, and the other hooks into the heart of the collar, keeping him in place. “Put it in, baby.” He moans and shuts his eyes tight, his cock already throbbing against your pussy. 

He reaches down and guides himself inside, trying to be gentle despite the way he wants to pound into you. You tug at his collar lightly, causing his hips to twitch and his eyes open to see you leaning up with puckered lips, begging him for a kiss, something he easily complies with. He thrusts into you slowly, savoring the sensation of your wet walls surrounding him.”Me gusta- me gusta mucho, mi amor.”

You moan into his ear at his words and your hips tilt off the desk, changing the way he fucks into you, causing his tip to bump your cervix with every thrust. “You- holy shit, love. You like your collar, sweet boy?” A broken gasp falls from his lips and his thrusts become more frantic. He nods against your neck and he begins to shake your entire desk with his thrusts. There’s an insane buzzing in his stomach, his orgasm already building and bubbling over. 

He grunts and slows his thrusts, going harder instead of faster, hoping it’ll help him last longer. Your legs wrap around his waist and force him deeper, your cunt fluttering around his cock as he rests against your G-Spot. His biceps are trembling with exertion, trying to hold himself back for you, wait for you. You stick both your thumbs under his collar and pull him out of your neck, angling his head how you want so you can slot your lips against his. He’s moaning against you instead of kissing you back. 

You’re playing him like an instrument, his hips have basically stopped all movement, and you’ve been taking over, grinding yourself into his cock as he trembles. He can’t think, lasting isn’t on his mind anymore, every thought has been taken over by the pleasure you’re filling him with. He’s completely given himself over to you, like the collar has flipped some switch in his brain and he suddenly exists only for you. You stick a hand in his hair and scratch at his scalp soothingly, another painful contrast to the assault of your hips. You pull him in against your lips, moaning breathily into his mouth as he loses his grip, his hips beginning to twitch into you against his will. 

“Are you gonna cum, sweetheart?” His arms give out, wrapping themselves around your shoulders instead and blanketing you with his weight as his hips stutter back to life, fucking into you with renewed passion- reinvigorated by the promise of orgasm, the gift of cumming inside you. “No puedo sostenerlo, cariño. Lo siento, me haces sentir tan bien, mi amor. Voy a llenarte, te haré sentir tan lleno.’

(‘I can't hold it, baby. I'm sorry, you make me feel so good, my love. I'm going to fill you, make you feel so full.”)

You nod against him aimlessly- you have no clue what he’s saying but he sounds frantic, desperate, and so close. “Yeah? Tell me more, sweet boy. Talk to me while you fill my cunt.” He whines and his hips stutter to a stop, as deep inside you as he can go. “No puedo- Estoy- Bebé, ya estoy- Me voy a correr en- Joder”

(“I can't- I'm- Baby, I'm already- I'm going to cum in- Fuck”)

He floods your pussy with his cum, everything that’s been building inside him throughout the day. The force of his orgasm shoves shuddering sobs from his chest, your hands wrap around his neck lightly as you savor the way he’s pulsing inside you, content with how he’s filling you. You grind against him languidly, prolonging his orgasm and pulling a thick whine of your name from his throat. 

You stroke his hair gently as he comes down, grinding against him slowly to keep his little mewls of “Amor” in your ear. He stays in your office until the end of the day, helping you with some reports but mostly covering you with kisses. He doesn’t take his collar off until he has to shower. He puts it right back on the next morning and it becomes a regular piece of his outfit. 

Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed, here's the rest of my Kinktober Works and be sure to check out my Main Masterlist!!

#miguel ohara x reader #miguel smut #miguel spiderman #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara smut #atsv miguel #miguel spiderverse #miguel x reader #spiderman 2099 #miguel ohara #miggy o’hara #miguel o'hara imagine #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara spider man #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 miguel o'hara #2099 #sm 2099 #miguel 2099 #marvel 2099 #miguel o hara #astv miguel #miguel atsv #miguel x you #atsv #kinktober 2023 #kinktober #kinktober smut

[angel-of-the-moons]

Doppelgänger

Miguel x Fem!Reader

TW/CW: Angst, self-image issues, mentions of childhood trauma, addiction, our mans has had it rough as fuck™

A/N: Brought on by this post from @tarjapearce and the comments i made (I'm sorry i am a ho for some angst sometimes) I'm merging ATSV stuff with comic stuffs because NO WAY IS HIS MOVIE DESIGN LIKE THAT ON PURPOSE WITHOUT IT POSSIBLY COMING UP IN FUTURE MOVIES ASDFGHJKL

Taglist: @tojishugetiddies

🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷

You came home and it was quiet. Quiet and dark; and already you knew something was up. You left Miguel sleeping so you could attend to some meetings and paperwork at your office, and pick up a few groceries.

Miguel had been acting strange the past few days. You'd asked him if it had something to do with work and he simply shrugged the question aside, like it was a small chip on one of his broad shoulders.

You'd asked him what was bothering him again, and he simply stared at the carpet, muttering something you didn't quite catch, and he went straight to bed.

You were so worried you'd even texted Gabriel on your walk home:

Hey, Gabe...

Heyyyy! If it ain't my favorite brother's girlfriend!

You couldn't help but roll your eyes with a soft snort. You only have one brother, Gabe.

No no, chica, I meant that you're my favorite of any girlfriends he's ever had. 😂

Gabe that sounds a little... Bad. 😬

Does it? Woops! Anyways, what's up? My big dumb, brick-house brother do something to make you mad?

No, Gabe... He's acting weird. Has been for the past few days, and he won't open up to me. I'm worried.

You could see the chat bubble pop up over and over again with '...' signifying that he was in the process of texting. With how many times it popped up and went away you were expecting a bible scripture's length of a text wall.

But what you got instead made your heart sink.

He saw our mom. She... She brought up Tyler.

Oh, god. You knew that Miguel and Conchata had a rocky relationship. Miguel had told you why. It was so bad, even just recalling everything, that you felt Miguel's pain like it was your own.

You also knew that Miguel's biological father, Tyler Stone, was the one that manipulated him, that used him, got him addicted to Rapture and almost killed him...

But it wasn't even the real dose of Rapture. It was simulated. Just another manipulation tactic. It was overhearing that conversation that Miguel found out the truth of his heritage, and you could tell that nugget of knowledge permanently chipped his sense of identity.

Even moreso when he confessed to you about Gabriela--

Your phone pinged.

They fought. It was... It was ugly. I... I didn't know about Tyler. God, chica, I didn't know. Dad was...

You felt your heart flop, knowing poor Gabriel was shielded by Miguel for so long so he didn't have to suffer like he did at the hands of their gaslighting and manipulative mother, his sadistic sperm donor... Miguel wanted nothing more than to protect Gabriel from that pain.

Your fingers flew fast on the little keyboard, a few spelling errors here and there;

God, Gabri im sory you had to fidn out that way

I know. It figures Miguel would have told you, before me, tho. He loves you.

He loves you too, Gabri. God, more than you know. He loves you.

I know. He was trying to keep me safe and out of Mom's drama.

No offense, Gabri, but if I ever see that woman I'm rearranging her face with a shovel.

OMG. I mean... After the things she said to Miggy, I... Kind of want her to at least feel consequences of her actions, y'know?

Oh, she will. Don't worry. Thanks for telling me this, Gabri.

Go cuddle my big brother and tell him I love him, k? Let me know how he's doing.

OMW home now, I'll text you when he's feeling better.

KK, see ya.

🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷

Yeah. You knew for sure Miguel was still heartbroken when you came home after that.

You put the groceries away, a somber expression on your face as a million thoughts went through your head.

God, of course Conchata had to come see Gabriel at the same time Miguel was there. You wouldn't be surprised if either she could have tabs kept on him, just to... to try and lord her power over him somehow, like he was still that scared little boy, holding onto his baby brother, being his shield and buffer from their parents' fights.

That bitch had to have had a hand in Tyler using him the way that he did, that she had to have known about--

Your mind was knocked away from those dark thoughts when you heard glass shatter.

You dropped the bag of apples onto the ground, the fruits tumbling out and rolling across the floor as you made a mad dash to your bedroom.

Noting Miguel wasn't in there, you turned to the adjoining bathroom door, seeing faint light come down from below, small wafts of steam rolling out.

"Miguel?" You frantically called out, knocking on the door and leaning your ear against the smooth metal.

You could hear shuffling and the tinkling of glass shards, as well as the shower running; but no verbal reply.

You knocked on the door again, hurried and a little too hard, your fingers hovering over the control panel.

Before you could push a button, the door slid open.

Miguel was in nothing but a pair of boxers, leaning over your bathroom sink, his hands gripping the marble countertops, threatening to crack the material. Beads of water rolled down his muscular, tanned skin; droplets of water dripped from the ends of his thick, wavy chocolate locks, the natural curls more apparent thanks to the water.

That's when you noticed it. Your bathroom mirror, shattered into a hundred pieces, scattering the counter, floor, and in the sink.

Bright, scarlet droplets were on the floor, steadily building into small puddle from his right hand, his knuckles split, shards of the reflective material sticking out of it.

"I'll pay for it." His voice croaked out, unable to lift his eyes to meet your horrified gaze. "I just--"

"Oh, god! Miggy!" You breathed, reaching out, taking a step towards him, only to wince and hiss when the pieces of broken mirror stabbed the soft, delicate soles of your feet.

You gritted your teeth as the glass crunched, but you grabbed Miguel.

Instantly it was like a switch flipped inside of him, Miguel's head snapped up and he looked down at you, seeing the bloody footprints you now left on your tile.

He looked terrified at what he was seeing. How you just ignored the shards in your body in favor of frantically digging around one of the cabinets for your first aid kit.

"Bebita... I..." Miguel choked out.

When you found it, you killed the shower and stepped into the glass once again, pulling him into your room, and onto your bed, your feet leaving bloody prints as you walked, like macabre rose petals being left in your wake. Miguel had a large enough stride that he was careful to avoid getting any in his feet, but the smell of your blood permeated the air, it made him sick to his stomach. Not with disgust.

With guilt.

Of course, you checked him over first, plucking out the shards of glass from his knuckles and cleaning the cuts out with wound wash, ignoring the blood welling up onto the tile floor of your bedroom from.

You carefully roll his hand as you try to wrap the gauze around his knuckles. "Miggy, can you hold your--"

"I'm sorry." He interrupts.

You looked up at him, and only then do you see his face. Framed in his wet curls, his face was shadowed and haunted, his eyes dark and as tumultuous in a maelstrom of anxiety and fear.

You bring your hand to his cheek, caressing one of his sharp cheekbones with your thumb. "Baby, it's okay. It's just a mirror, I can--"

He shook his head, as if your touch to his face burned him like a hot iron.

He leaned over, grabbing your legs and pulling your feet into his lap so he can assess the damage, and return the favor of cleaning and dressing them.

"You're hurt because of me." He whispered sadly, dabbing the blood away.

"I'm hurt because of the glass, honey." You tell him gently, letting him apply the "honey" to the cuts in your feet, sealing them.

His massive hands encapsulated your ankles, his thumbs rubbing small circles as the rough pads caressed your skin. Like you were made of the delicate gossamer of a butterfly's wing.

He sits like that, not meeting your eyes. And god, did that hurt you so badly. You knew how important eye contact was with Miguel, he almost always went out of his way to keep eye contact when he was conversing with someone. Having him avoid your eyes... hurt.

Because you knew he was hurting.

"Miggy." You breathed. "Talk to me."

You move your feet from his lap and scoot closer to him, moving your face until he locked eyes with you again, and you could see the pain and the tears fill his own as he looked at you; his full, pouty lips trembling in an effort to hold his emotions at bay.

His shoulders dropped low, and Miguel leans forward until he was practically bent in half, clinging to you, burying his face in your chest as he fisted your shirt in his hands.

You rubbed his shoulder with one hand, biting your lip as he softly cried into your blouse, your other hand combing through his messy wet hair.

You stayed like that, for what felt like hours. You weren't sure how long it was exactly, with the blackout curtains drawn and the lights off. The only light that dimly illuminated the room was from your bathroom, and the open door.

He finally calmed enough to speak, to explain why he shattered the mirror.

"...I look like him." Miguel said, his heart in his voice, his soul stripped down and naked with raw pain.

"Mig--"

"God, I look like him. That... that cabrón." He hissed, tugging your shirt in his fists.

"I look like that bastard that... that made me into this." The self-contempt in his voice broke your heart.

You kiss the top of his head, murmuring against him. "No, you don't, baby."

"Yes, I do!" He snapped, pulling himself away from you and throwing himself to his feet. He paced like an angry tiger in a cage, waiting to swat at whatever keeper dared enter his enclosure. He didn't notice that he was stepping into the sticky, dried blood trails you left.

"I have his--his face. His fucking face--" He said, gripping his hair in his hands, tugging as he started to hyperventilate. "My fucking nose, my fucking cheeks, my fucking lips--they're all him! I'm not allowed to be me, every time I look in the mirror I see him! I can't ever get away from him! He's a part of me, he always will be! I fucking look like him!"

You get to your feet, ignoring the throbbing in your soles as you dared to reach out, to touch the pacing tiger.

Your hands smooth up his back, gently, softly; then back down until they wrapped around his mid-section.

You feel him, how tense he is, how his muscles flex at your touch almost like he's bracing himself for some kind of blow that simply will never come from you.

You rest your cheek against his back, feeling how hot his skin was burning.

"Baby. You don't look like him. You aren't him, and you never will be." You whisper.

You plant kisses wherever you could reach, not letting him go, feeling his body shake with each shuddering breath as your soft lips made contact.

"More importantly, Tyler will never be you."

"I--"

You cut him off. "Listen to me... Did Tyler figure out multi-dimensional travel, build a strike force of super-powered people from across the multiverse? Does Tyler, almost every day, work to keep dozens--no, hundreds--of universes safe from monsters?"

He didn't answer.

"And did Tyler Stone protect your baby brother from your mother all these years?"

No answer.

"You are Miguel-goddamn-O'Hara." You tell him. "I love you, with trauma, quirks and all. I love your little scritch-scratches you make, the way your bottom lip pokes out when you pout, your crooked teeth when you smile. I love your ridiculously large body, I love how you hug me. I love the little snores you make when you fall asleep at your desk, how you crinkle your nose when you're about to sneeze.."

You feel his hands slowly rise to touch your arms where they're almost-locked around his larger frame.

"I love how sweet and gentle you are. I love hearing you curse to yourself when you shock yourself with your soldering gun... I love listening to you bicker with Lyla, or complain about one of the other Spiders bugging you." You place more kisses after each sentence; hoping each one plants a seed of love beneath his skin, to bloom into a garden that he can admire and love, not hate for the very skin he was born with out of illegitimacy and infidelity.

"Tyler Stone is not you. He never will be. He will never be as good as you." You sigh against his skin, feeling the goosebumps form in the cold of your room, now that the adrenaline of his anxiety was beginning to fade, and his body became aware of the water that was slowly drying and cooling his skin.

"I love you, Miguel O'Hara. You and no-one else. Don't ever think for a second that you don't have your own identity because of your genes."

He slowly turns in your grasp, looking down at you with raw, unclothed emotion as his hand touches your cheek.

"You're more than that. You're you, and I wouldn't have you any other way." You say, your tone set and jaw tight; every word you spoke carrying a hefty weight of seriousness and honesty.

He smiles, almost sadly as you feel the rough pads of his thumb against your cheek, the little talon there poking you but not breaking the skin.

"...I..." He said, his voice stiff as he swallows the lump in his throat.

"I really will pay for your mirror, you know."

You grin up at him and turn your face so you can kiss the palm of his hand.

"I know you will, Miggy."

"But I am curious... I felt like you were going to keep going with the affirmations." He said, raising an eyebrow slowly.

"Well, the last one..."

"The last one?" Miguel tilted his head down at you quizzically.

You grin at him again, your teeth showing and eyes creasing as you barely manage to reach around him, swatting his ass playfully.

"I also love the fact you have the nicest ass I've ever seen on a man."

He couldn't contain the snort that came out of him, and he reached up to cover his whole face with his other hand.

"Mierda..."

You giggle as you step around him, giving a playful swat to his ass once again as you walk by.

"C'mon, Miguel O'Hara. You got a broken mirror to clean up."

His shoulders lifted as he watched you, his eyes softer than you've ever seen as he smiled.

Yeah. You were right.

He was Miguel O'Hara.

And he was certainly going to pay you back for the smacks to his ass.

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel x reader #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara x you #miguel ohara #miguel spiderman #miguel o'hara #atsv miguel #miguel spiderverse

[goatakiart]

JEALOUS XAVIER!!!💛

Love And Deepspace

SFW

Bar scene

Kiss scene

I put a lot of work on drawing and writing, I hope you like it! 💛

☆ミ☆ミ☆ミ☆ミ☆ミ☆ミ☆ミ☆ミ☆ミ☆ミ☆ミ

You walk into the office in drowsy steps towards your desk and drop into your chair. It's too early in the morning. The sun is barely out, and everything is still dark.

Just when you short things out before you begin to work, a colleague comes over to your desk with a cup of coffee. Since he came to the office and you work together, he keeps bringing you coffee every morning, which is curious, but you appreciate the gesture.

Right when you thank him and he begins to walk away, you notice a different figure walking up to your desk with a bag on his hand. It seems like a busy day already. You blink in surprise.

"Xavier?? What are you doing here?"

Xavier lets the small bag on your desk.

"I was passing by for some intel, so I brought you breakfast. I...will probably have to stay here today."

He takes a small glance at the coffee sitting on your desk and looks up at the man that's walking away.

His presence made the day better already

You smile and drag another chair next to yours, the sound of the dragged chair legs draws Xavier's attention back to you. You simply pat the chair next to you.

"Be my guest."

Xavier's lips curl up. He brings a laptop and some books to his side of the desk. You spend some time eating together and talking about how you slept, You enjoy hearing about all the weird dreams he always has. Unfortunately, you have to cut the chase and work. You both drown in silence and focus on your tasks. Only the sound of keyboards and the book pages is heard all around. However, his presence is enough company.

The afternoon comes, the orange light hits through the window, and a lot of people leave the office. Your colleague comes to your desk once again.

"Hello, was the coffee good?"

Xavier just ignores him. He crosses his leg as he keeps reading his book.

You smile politely at the man on the other side of the desk and nod in response. He smiles back happily.

"I'm not here for that tho! Did you know that a team of hunters is gonna have a party going on tonight? It's at the bar on the next square. I thought I should invite you, I'll be there too."

Xavier subtly takes his eyes away from the book and side eyes him behind the pages, in a way that none notices. You agree to go and continue the conversation a little before he heads off.

"See you there, Trevor." You wave goodbye and finally close the laptop.

As you walk back home with Xavier, he's a little too silent. He's probably focused his thoughts on his research. The pink and peach shades of the sky eliminate on him beautifully, it causes you to daydream for a short while and grin like an idiot. You poke his shoulder softly. A cloud moves and casts its shadow against you both, hiding the light of the sky.

"Did you hear?"

"Hmm?"

He rotates his head to your direction, he's still in thought.

"About the party."

"Oh, what about it?"

You hesitate slightly before asking him, he probably won't accept, he's not the type to party, but you try anyway.

"Do you wanna come--"

His focus fully shifts to you.

"I would love to go with you."

He didn't even leave you fully finish the sentence, you're a bit shocked he agreed so fast, but it's a pleasant surprise, he looks eager to come.

"Then, I'll see you there?"

His expression becomes somewhat alluring, a smile forms on his lips, his head tilts, the cloud moves away and the light is even brighter than before, you can see the sky in his eyes.

"I'll come take you by 10pm instead. Let's go together."

You raise an eyebrow by his reactions but agree, you didn't wanna go alone anyway.

"Sure, let's go together!"

☆ミ☆ミ☆ミ☆ミ☆ミ☆ミ☆ミ☆ミ☆ミ☆ミ☆

The night finally comes, and you're outside your door waiting for Xavier to appear. You wear a simple short, sleeveless, black dress and boots, not much. As he appears, you notice he's dressed in black for the first time since you met him, which makes you match. A buttoned top and fancy pants with a golden chain on his neck with a small star. It's as if he did it on purpose.

"You look really good!" You say excitedly and his face can't help but brighten up in satisfaction.

"Do you like it? I bought it today. You look beautiful Y/N." He says and softly reaches for your hand which you playfully take and twirl around as if you're dancing, you both chuckle.

"Did you buy this only for today?"

"Perhaps I need a change."

He looks down at your purse embarrassed.

"Let me take this for you."

He takes your purse and hangs it on the side of his shoulder.

"Why, thank you."

You lovingly wrap your hand around his bicep as you head towards the party.

You reach the entrance and you both notice that the club is packed and loud music is playing. Some of Xavier's old colleagues appear and begin to talk to him, he gives you a look that you know very well... he's pleading to be saved, however you do not submit to the request.

"I'll find a seat for us, it's not bad to socialize once in awhile, I'll be waiting for you alright?" He looks quite disappointed but agrees.

"I'll be back soon."

You get in, nuzzle your way through to find a place to sit. Trevor also finds his way to you. He reeks of alcohol, so you assume he's already drunk.

"Heyyy! You made it here! I'm so glad to see you."

"Well, I said I would come."

You are being polite but way colder than how you treat Xavier. You clearly don't trust him enough. He's sloppy and his voice is unstable. He approaches you, you take a step back in response. "I noticed I've never seen you fight! I'm pretty sure you're an amazing hunt--"

"She's an exceptional hunter."

Xavier's voice cuts him off from behind you. His hand wraps around your shoulder tightly as he towers over you. His voice is firm, his eyes darken, you could say he's a little...scary.

For a moment your thoughts wander again. You think to yourself that he looks crazy attractive in black. Trevor takes a step back this time, as Xavier continues, his voice sounds mad. He's rarely mad.

"If you wish to witness a fight, I could give you a demonstration."

He tilts his head with a frown, rising an eyebrow, an expression fill of intimidation.

The drunk man's gaze lower in shame.

"No, man, it's alright... I'll... I'll go now..."

He raises his hand in defeat and walks away in quick steps, almost running. You blink in shock, you look up at Xavier as he watches him go like a carnivore watching a pray.

"What was that?"

As his gaze turns to you, his eyes change immediately from threatening to sweet, you raise your eyebrows, and your eyes widen. Your expression communicates perfectly to him. Meanwhile, the music started changing towards the slow romantic kind.

"He was obviously drunk. He could have done something inappropriate."

"So tonight you're my knight in shining armor?"

Your expression switches to a slightly teasing grin. He smiles in response and bows as he extends his hand.

"Would you care to give me this dance, your majesty."

He could get into the role pretty easily. It's as if he's actually a knight.

"I would love to." You placed your hand on top of his in delicate movement. He grasped it tightly and planted a kiss on top of it before he pulled you close to him. You release a short gasp by the sudden pressure. Your heart doesn't just skip a beat but miltiple. Your chest touches his, and his hand lingers to your back as you begin to dance. You look up at him. He grins with an adorable gaze.

"The dance lessons we did back then seems to have worked."

Your face flushed at the reminder, you immediately look away.

"Did you get that black fit on purpose?"

You were meant to ask this for some time now, but now it was the perfect opportunity to avoid the conversation.

"We're matching, Xavier."

The expression painted on his face reveals it all. You could notice a tint of pink on his cheeks at the revelation of understanding his motive. You both keep dancing. He leans forward to the side of your face. You can feel his hot breath on your ear, but he doesn't immediately speak, as if he's hesitating. Your heart begins to beat faster, you hold your breath. Xavier tightens the embrace, wrapping his arms around you like he'd never let you go. You can feel the warmth of his body, hear his heartbeat as it grows in intensity. His muscles tighten around you. When he speaks, his voice is nothing like what you've heard before. The slow, sensual whisper leaks down your ear, like honey on fruit.

"What's wrong with showing others you're mine."

You would never expect him to say something like that, your lips part slightly as you stay in place. The thought he's jealous drives you crazy. You feel a spark down your nerves as you release the breath you were holding in fear it will reveal the overflowing emotions. You caress the hand which is holding yours and interwine your fingers together as you begin to slow dance, you sneakily kiss his neck as he still leans against your ear. His breath catches in his throat, he reactively jumps back to check your expression. He looks down and around in embarrassment. You giggle. Your arms go around his shoulders, closing the space in between. You tiptoe to reach his ear, to return the previous act. This time you are the one to whisper seductively.

"I like it when you're jealous. I might even make you jealous on purpose."

You say teasingly, acting all tough. However your heartbeat is quickening. He's not immune to this either. He can feel his heart hammering against his chest and his face feeling hotter and hotter. His hand explores your back before it reaches your cheek, he continues by placing it under your chin. His expression overwhelms you with desire. His face flushed with passion and a little desperation. He meets your gaze and swallows. He's lost himself in all the feelings you give him. The look you have on your face is enough to satisfy him. The corners of his lips curl up in a slight teasing smirk. 

"I would not suggest that."

His gaze explores your face, slowly moving his pupils around, scanning you. His actions sends a jolt through your veins, your face turns red, you subconsciously bite your lip, but you decide to keep up the act.

"Is that so?"

He raises his eyebrow in amusement, the smirk grows larger.

"That is so."

He leans even closer, his blue eyes are shining against the dark environment beautifully, he doesn't break the eye contact, you slowly lean as well, your eyes are closing, blocking the view of his own,  till you feel his soft lips against yours. They taste like cherry, they feel like silk, his perfume doesn't go unnoticed either. His effords are shining like a bright star against a dark sky, and they totally win you over. His hand gripped on your back, pulling you against him. He deepens the kiss, you can't help but add your tongue to the game, so you lick his lips shyly. A short whispery gasp escapes his lips just before he deepens the kiss, and you feel his delicious tongue against yours. Your body reacts like a magnet to him. You melt into his embrace, not resisting anything he does. He has you in the palm of his hand when he claims you, he knows it, and he loves it.

#anime fanart #xavier fanfic #love and deepspace xavier #xavier x reader #xavier #love and deepspace #love and deepspace x reader #xavier fanart #love and deepspace fanart #love and deepspace fanfic

[evalevaeva]

only us | ryu shioh/ryu sio

HOW THE FUCK DO I SPELL HIS NAME

You waited on the steps outside your apartment as you pressed on the unread message from sio on your phone.

"Are you ready? I'm reaching soon," Sio's message read as you tapped on your keyboard, sending a response back.

"I'm outside my apartment, waiting," You sent back.

A grey bubble appeared as sio typed quickly, "I told you to not stay outside alone. Many people are after me, I don't want you getting pulled into this mess".

You smiled softly at the evident worry in his message as you heard the sound of a car pulling up in front of your apartment. You lifted your head as you saw the familiar car that sio used to get around. The door on the opposite side of where you were seated at opened as you stood up, dusting your bottom as you saw sio, in his signature black suit as he smiled.

"Did you wait long?" Sio asked as he opened the door on the side closer to you, motioning you to get in as you took a seat in the car, giving sio's assistant a smile as sio entered the car, sitting next to you.

"I promised you we'd go out on a date when I returned to Korea, so everything today is up to you. You can choose for us to go skydiving and we'll do it, if you want to pick worms, we'll do it," Sio said as he slipped his hand into yours, rubbing the back of your hand with his thumb.

You thought about it as you chose two activities you'd like to do with him.

"Maybe not skydiving. Instead, how about we get canvases and paint? then we can go for dinner or I can cook," You suggested as Sio nodded, turning to his assistant as he said, "Drive us to the nearest art store, then drive us home".

The man simply nodded. You turned to Sio excitedly as you asked, "So what have you been up to so far? I'm sorry I didn't get to see you at the airport when you returned... my boss made me cover for another worker out of the blue. "

Sio hummed as he thought about his adventures since he came back to Korea.

"Well, I joined a heritage club, and I'm doing normal boring office stuff, that's about it. How about you love?" Sio switched the topic quickly as you thought about it.

"I got called in for a job recently, for CEO Hwang Geum Joo! Isn't that exciting?" You told him as your face was plastered with a big smile.

Sio's smile faltered slightly, his eyes switching to the mirror at the front, making eye contact with his assistant as he nodded, "That's good. Are you nervous?".

"Hmm.. well... not really! I think I have a pretty good chance at this job! and there's a lot of benefits, so I'll have more rest days," You admitted as the car turned into the front of the art store.

It had been a while since you had gone to one and Sio... well he had no time for things like that.

"I told you, you don't have to work. Let me pay for everything," Sio said as you shook your head. "I need to be independent too. What if I wanted to buy a house or something," You asked him as he turned to you, bending down slightly as he whispered, "Then I'll get it for you".

He knew his affect on you, and it didn't take long for a red flush to creep up your neck.

"Let's just... go in," You changed the topic as you led sio into the store, your hands still connected as the worker in the store greeted, "Welcome!".

You walked around with sio as you got to the aisle with different canvases. There were big ones, medium sized ones and small ones. You hummed as you look through the different canvases, trying to think of a project you could do together.

"What if we get a big one and we paint on it together? Then we can hang it up in your apartment," Sio suggested as you turned to him.

"Then you won't have one..." You sighed as you tried to think of something. A lightbulb lit in your head as you grab two medium-sized canvases and put them together, side by side.

"If we paint on them like this, it'll be one complete painting, then we each take one!" You said happily as you stared at the two canvases.

Sio was busy staring at you, smiling as he watched your eyes crinkle and your cheekbones rising when you were happy with your decision. Sio rested his chin on the top of you head as he said softly, "You're so smart. My girlfriend is so smart, I'm lucky."

You laughed as you responded, "You're just as smart. Don't boost my ego too high."

Sio took the two canvases from your hands as you walked to the paint section. Different varieties from water colour to acrylic paint were available there. Your indecisiveness began kicking in as you were torn on what colours to get.

"You can't decide on the colours, right?" Sio could practically read your mind. He bent down as he took a look at the small cans, looking at the colours that could compliment each other.

"Let's get this set, it looks like there's a lot of varieties so we won't have to decide," Sio said as he picked up a set of 8 colours.

Sio wasn't even looking at the price tag as he simply grabbed what he thought you'd need to paint while you were kind of worried if his wallet would survive. Who were you kidding? He's a ceo.

You grabbed a set of brushes as you ushered him to the cashier, not wanting him to look at anything else.

The cashier was stumped as she gulped, amazed at sio's height. She grabbed the items, scanning them and placing them into a plastic bag as she pressed a few keys on the cashier.

"That'll be 24,000 won," the cashier stated as sio took out his wallet before taking out his black card to pay. He tapped his card on the payment machine before taking the receipt and the bag.

"Let's go?" He said as he linked your arms, walking out the store as his assistant took the items from him, placing them in the back as the both of you made your way back home.

Sio played some music from the playlist the both of you had put together when he came back and sat down next to you as you taped the two canvases together. You wore a plain black shirt that Sio had lent you to prevent your outfit from getting dirty, while sio had on his normal black t-shirt and black jeans.

"What were you planning on painting, dear?" sio asked as you showed him a photo on your phone.

"The photo I took for you overseas?" Sio asked, unsure, as you nodded. "I was having a hard time at that point because you were so far away, but that picture was so beautiful, it's even my lockscreen," You said as you showed him your screen.

He smiled as he sat next to you, getting a paintbrush as he took some paint, "should we start?".

The both of you painted in silence with the occasional 'is this right?' or 'how do i paint this?'.

The painting was about 90% finished when sio suddenly placed his paintbrush down, placing his elbows on the table as he watched you silently. He felt as if he fell in love once again as he watched you like a little high school boy meeting his first love. He had spent too long away from you and he couldn't deny it.

"Why did you stop painting?" You asked as you looked at him. "I was busy admiring my painting," He said as he reached out to caress your hair.

"I think... it's finished!" You happily said as you removed the tape connecting the two canvases together, seeing the two separate paintings come together. "We did a good job, love. Where should I hang this?" Sio asked as he took his side of the painting, looking around his apartment as you pointed to his room.

"How about there? Then I'll put mine up in my room too, so when we wake up, we'll see our painting every day," you suggested as sio went to the kitchen, opening the bottom drawer to get a hammer and a nail as he knocked one nail into the wall, hanging the painting as the both of you looked at it.

Sio placed an arm over your shoulder as he pulled you close, placing a kiss on your head as he said, "It reminds me of you."

You chuckled as you responded, "It's supposed to remind us of each other".

The both of you never got to eat dinner as you fell asleep on the couch, head on sio's lap as he brushed your hair out of your face, leaning back as he also fell asleep.

---

wow finally a fic that doesnt follow original storyline eva ur amazing thank u guys

#ryu sioh #strong girl nam soon #byeon woo seok #ryu shi oh #ryu sio

[rileyslibrary]

i don't know if you've already gotten this but if you haven't can you please make a part 3 to the ghost and Lt fic? it was so, so good, you had me on the edge of my seat the entire time. jealous ghost is everything i never knew i needed and more. your writing is just too good that i have to know what happens next. thanks! 🫶

Hey reader! Glad you liked it! I wrote something quick for ya but I’m afraid there’s a more sensible Ghost in this one. It’s how I’d like to finish the “new Lt.” Saga. Oh well, hope you like this one as much as the last one! 🍫

Synopsis: Captain Price’s decision to put you with Ghost and Lt. Wilson in the same room serves more as a punishment to you than to them. You have Price’s number on speed dial, ready to pull the trigger.

Relationship: Simon “Ghost” Riley x F!Reader

Word Count: 1,033

Notes:

This is the final part of the story. Here’s Part 1, and Part 2.

Warning: The usual swearing.

Want more?

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Captain Price came into your office the day of the conflict and “made a few arrangements,” as he—very politely—said. These “arrangements” weren’t a big deal to an outsider, but enough for the three of you to be on edge.

And that tension didn’t come in the form of profanities or fist punches and yells. It was a lingering tension. Like the smell of fresh coffee in the morning as you walk down the stairs to the hotel’s breakfast area. Only it wasn’t coffee you smelled in this room; it was a combination of some leftover bitterness and unresolved conflict, mixed with the smell of iodine that both regularly applied on their—physical—wounds. Because the other type of wounding that Captain Price inflicted on them was pretty hard to be fixed with mere antiseptics and bandages. It seems like the Captain’s decision really hurt their ego.

See, Captain Price had this fantastic ability to make you feel small and insignificant just by smiling at you. He wasn’t direct like Ghost was. No. He was very subtle with his scolding if he ever did such a thing. He was the kind of person who would deliver criticism in the form of tropes, planting seeds in your mind so you would discover later on that they flourished and became trees filled with ripe fruit. A strong supporter of fixing something rather than scrapping and starting from the beginning, he decided not only to allocate Lt. Wilson in the same office as you and Ghost but to sit them next to each other, elbow-to-elbow.

Have you ever seen two kids whose parents have just scolded them? Sure you have; you’re looking at them right now as they sit before you.

One still wears his balaclava, with one black eye peaking out. He’s resting his head on the one hand, reading through some papers. He seems defensive but also embarrassed. Can you blame him? He not only jeopardised and almost risked his position in such an exuberant way, but having his arch nemesis as a “work buddy” was enough for him to build up his walls.

The other is bruised around the eyes due to him suffering a kick straight to the nose. He seems angry, but you’d be too if a giant beast jumped you from across the table. He moves frantically, pushing buttons on the laptop’s keyboard like a passionate pianist delivering his solo to an audience. His demeanour had changed dramatically as well. There was no more flirting, no unnecessary winking or pointing finger guns. He acted like a… soldier, for once.

And you? You were a wallflower. Trying to make as little noise as possible, closing drawers quietly, as if a newborn is sleeping next to you, not asking much, and peaking over your computer’s screen to monitor their behaviour, just like Captain Price ordered you.

“Are you trying to punch through the desk with your fingers, man?” Ghost asks Wilson, and you immediately tense up.

“‘This piece of shit doesn’t save my document,” Wilson replies while repeatedly pushing the same key.

You grab your phone. Captain Price gave you his number and advised you to call him immediately if things were about to take a wrong turn.

“I don’t care what you’re trying to achieve on that thing,” Ghost says, “but you’re pretty successful in pissing me off right now.”

Your heart jumps to your throat, and you unlock your phone.

“I’m not doing it on purpose, man!” Wilson exclaims, “though can’t say I’m not chuffed for doing that to you.” He continues smirking.

“What a fucking prick,” Ghost says and slides his chair to Wilson’s desk. “Let me show you.”

You shoot yourself up and show them your phone with Captain Price’s phone ready on speed dial.

“ONE MORE MOVE, AND I CALL PRICE.” You shout, and they both turn to look at you dumbfounded.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, doll?” Wilson yells back, “Lt. Is trying to help.”

“The hell, love?” Ghost agrees and raises his hands in the air in a stance of innocence, “here, look,” he says, putting one hand on the mouse and the other on Wilson’s keyboard.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk.” Wilson mutters and turns to Ghost, “is this how we’re gonna have them every day?”

“Beats me, man.” Ghost replies, “can’t make a move anymore.”

You look at Wilson, then turn to Ghost, then back to Wilson. Neither is paying attention to you. Ghost is explaining to Wilson that he removed the “.docx” extension, and that’s why he couldn’t save the document. Wilson thanks him, and Ghost nods. He slides his chair back to his desk.

“You play football, by the way?” Wilson asks Ghost.

“I do,” Ghost nods, “how’d you know?”

“That kick,” Wilson explains, “was like you shot a penalty.”

Ghost briefly chuckles, “don’t make me laugh,” he says, “my tooth hurts.”

“From the punch?” Wilson asks, laughing, and Ghost nods. “I can give you my dentist’s contact details,” Wilson suggests, “he’s brilliant at fixing teeth.”

Ghost gives him a thumbs up and immediately lifts his index finger to form a gun, “appreciate it, mate,” he says.

He appreciates it? Wh- mate? F- finger guns? It just occurred to you that you’re still standing, holding that phone close to your chest.

“Right, I’ll go make us all some tea!” Wilson says as he stands up and claps his hands.

You both look at him exiting the room, then turn at each other.

I know what you’re about to say,” Ghost begins, “but let me explain first.”

You furrow your eyebrows and place your phone on your desk. “Please do, Simon.” You say and cross your arms over your chest.

“There’re two options here,” he says, tilting his head to the side. “I either attempt to put some sense to the guy for continuing to call you doll, which will result in Captain kicking me out for good”, he explains. “Or,” he continues, tilting his head to the other side, “I bite the bullet and bare his nonsense just so I can continue being here.”

You blush and smile at him. “Here?” You ask.

“Yes, here,” he replies and meets your gaze, “with you.”

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