#been waiting for an excuse to make a popstar for years at this point and the infamous IF finally gave me one lmao | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

vettelsdarling · 8 months

Note

hi i love your instagram aus!!!

i was wondering if you could do an instagram au private relationship between charles x singer! reader (face claim blackpink rose) on their summer break but they get caught by fans and paparazzi?

𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮

Lissie note… Really great idea!!! Love it! I’m not too into k-pop, so please excuse me if anything seems wrong with the pictures in terms of timeline stuff. Thank you, and I’m glad you enjoy the aus<3

Things to note:

I’m into rock/indie, so I don’t know much about the K-pop industry. Please don’t come for me :)

Reader is an up-and-coming but popular K-Popstar.

Reader and Charles have been dating since the beginning of the season (set in 2023)

Races are NOT in order

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Singer!Fem!Reader

Warnings: Slight cursing?

Playlist recommendations: 𝐂𝐋𝟏𝟔, 𝐅𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟💗

Taglist: @drugged-kitkat, @allwaysallyway

yourusername

Liked by carmenmmundt, lilymhe, francisca.cgomes and 5,488,926 others

yourusername Merci, Paris🌻💛

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user1 OHMOFMFNS HERRRR❤️❤️❤️

user2 Felt😩🙏

user3 Are you coming to the UK soon?🥰

user4 MOTHER❤️

user5 ILYSM PLSSS😭❤️

user6 So so so gorgeousss💕

user7 She’s so couquette but sophisticated and I love it

user8 AHHHH agreed❤️

user9 Please come to the US soon🤍🤍

user10 She’s been there before

user11 Yeah, I saw her last year🥰

user9 Aw no… I missed it.

yourusername

Liked by lilymhe, francisca.cgomes, pierregasly and 4,827,293 others

yourusername Thanks for another great time @ voguemagazine

Tagged: voguemagazine

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user1 How can anyone be THIS gorgeous.

user2 Exactly. How do people actually have the nerve to call her a gold digger…

user3 Wait what???

user4 People did WHAT?!

user1 ummm wtf?

user5 @ user2 is right. Fans of this boy group keep bashing her because they were seen together at a literal K-pop event…

user6 Doesn’t it make sense for her to be at the same expo though…💀 like she didn’t come for that one guy. She came for us…😭😭😭

user5 literally

user7 idk what all this drama in the comments is, but you’re so pretty❤️

user8 Vogue better feature her again😩🤍

user9 Did anyone see her interview with cosmo? She’s literally so polite and cute🥰

user10 I SAW IT🫶

user11 I don’t believe all the rumours that she’s dating some random boy group guy… she’s clearly ours.

user12 Agreed🙏

user13 I can’t wait for her to go on Jimmy Fallon🥳

user14 It’s actually gonna be so fun

charles_leclerc

Liked by yourusername, pierregasly, maxverstappen1 and 648,272 others

charles_leclerc It’s race week again❤️🤍

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user1 Let’s goooo #tifosi❤️🤍

user2 Please no Monaco curse again😭😭😭

user3 It won’t happen this year❤️

user4 I’m a max fan but I actually hope Leclerc wins this one

user5 same

user6 ANY K-POP FANS HERE???

user7 I thought I was the only one who noticed

user8 Guys it’s so clearly just her following him cause he’s famous or whatever. Besides, he has a lot of followers who are in the K-pop industry lol

user9 @ user8 has a point lmao

user10 yeah, @ otherkpopuser also follows him. You guys gotta calm down💀

user11 Home race let’s gooo❤️

yourusername

Liked by charles_leclerc, francisca.cgomes, lilymhe and 4,384,256 others

yourusername Break👒🧸

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francisca.cgomes Gorgeous🤍

yourusername ❤️❤️❤️

user1 Okay so nobody is going to question why an f1 wag is in the comments…

user2 because it’s not that deep

user3 The break she deserves❤️❤️❤️ HAVE FUN🥰

user4 I can’t wait for more summer posts from her🥳

user5 I loved your set in Paris❤️ Please come back soon🫶

user6 Come to Spain pleaseeeee🙏

user7 Oooo where is this???

user8 I think she said on her story that she was in Monaco

user9 Ugh I would love to go there just to see her😭❤️

user10 Monaco is so great😩 I wanna go

user11 This is the break she deserves after her hard work❤️

user12 I thought she’d maybe go back to Korea for a little over break

user13 It’s her own choice… she doesn’t have to

user14 Sooo pretty

user15 I desperately NEED her to come to Australia😭😭😭

sportsgoscentral

3,729 likes

sportsgoscentral Famous Ferrari driver, Charles Leclerc, was caught with a girl this week… who might that be👀

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user1 Wait WHAT🧍‍♀️

user2 idk… that could literally be anyone. It doesn’t look like Charles…

user3 It’s definitely him. Look at his hair.

user4 I’m slowly waving goodbye to my parasocial relationship😭

user5 STOPPP WHAT IS THIS

user6 Aw that’s cute🥰 Wish we knew who it was though!!

user7 wait… isn’t that… @ yourusername

user8 who?

user7 pretty famous K-pop idol

user8 Ohhh, she’s really pretty though

user9 so all blonde girls are suddenly her?

user7 no, I’m just saying it seems like her bc she’s in Monaco rn

user10 Whoever she is, she’s so lucky ughhh

user11 For real

user12 What happened to giving people personal space😃

charles_leclerc

Liked by yourusername and 366,282 others

charles_leclerc Next stop: Japan✈️🇯🇵

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user1 such a random vacation spot but I dig it

user2 I bet Yuki is his tour guide

user3 that’d be funny

user4 Wait what’s in Japan?

user5 Idk, he’s just on break somewhere new ig?

user6 Can’t wait for a Japan photo dump🥰

user7 Not everyone thinking he’s going cause of @ yourusername 😭😭😭

user8 OMGGGG I FORGOT SHE’S BACK FROM HER BREAK AND IN JAPAN RNNN

user9 I am flabbergasted

user10 guys it’s a coincidence chill pls

user11 idk… doesn’t seem like a coincidence to me👀

yourusername

Liked by francisca.cgomes, carmenmmundt, lilymhe and 6,028,379 others

yourusername Thank you so much for all the chants! I love you all in Japan❤️ Can’t wait to come again🧸

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francisca.cgomes Loved it❤️ Will go to your next🫶

yourusername Can’t wait to see you again🥰❤️

user1 MOTHER😩❤️

user2 SHE ONLY RESTED FOR 2 WEEKS AND IS ALREADY BACK😭😭😭

user3 She’s so amazing🤍 I love her so much😭

user4 I LOVED THE SHOWWW COME BACK SOON~

user5 She’s so mother😩🙏

user6 ABSOLUTELY GORGEOUS🥰

user7 I literally love everything abt her

user8 Where’s she going next?

user9 The US I think?

user10 Wait what???

user11 No she isn’t. That’s next month.

user12 Yeah, she’s going to Korea next and then the US

charles_leclerc

Liked by yourusername, francisca.cgomes, pierregasly and 1,292,358 others

charles_leclerc Japan was amazing❤️🇯🇵

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user1 A GIRL A GIRL A GIRL

user2 OMG THE SECOND PIC

user3 CHARLES WHO IS THATTTT

user4 New wag alert?

user5 Every K-pop fan KNOWS that the rumours are true and that’s @ yourusername

user6 New fav wag🥰

user7 I need to see them togetherrrr

user8 Omg that’s her?! She is BEAUTIFUL😩

user9 She’s literally my fav<3

user8 I’m gonna start listening to her

user9 If he’s going to the states next, it’s definitely @ yourusername

user10 It’s so convenient though, because he has the Miami gp next month🥳

user11 Isn’t she going to NYC though???

user12 Yeah she is

wagsf1

20,378 likes

wagsf1 @ yourusername in the paddock today in Miami✨

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user1 IT’S OFFICIAL🥰

user2 She is SO PRETTY AND CUTEEEE

user3 Her and Charles make the cutest couple on the grid by a HUMONGOUS margin.

user4 Literally

user5 Wait… but wasn’t she spotted in Formula 2???!

user6 Leclerc watches Arthur and she probably tagged along

user5 Oh yeah that makes sense

user7 I can’t believe she’s juggling her career and supporting Charles at the same time😭 What a gem🤍

user8 He literally hit the jackpot with this one

user9 I’m so jealous of him but also jealous of her😭😭😭

user10 You’re literally so real for that

yourusername

Liked by charles_leclerc,francisca.cgomes, carmenmmundt and 6,387,289 others

yourusername Since the secret is out…🤍

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charles_leclerc ❤️

Liked by yourusername

francisca.cgomes You guysss🫶

Liked by yourusername

user1 ARE YOU FOR REAL????

user2 Wait the rumours are true?!!!😭😭

user3 We lost her💔

user4 This is pain.

user5 Can’t you just be happy for her?

user6 It’s not that deep and she doesn’t know you exist💀

user7 If my future relationship isn’t like theirs… I don’t want it..

user8 IKR😩 Look at those shadow picssss

user9 Okay but when is she actually revealing him?

user10 We literally know it’s Charles💀 He even commented😭😭😭

charles_leclerc

Liked by yourusername, pierregasly, maxverstappen1 and 738,839 others

charles_leclerc It’s official. She’s a procrastinator…

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yourusername I’m not…

charles_leclerc Did you pack for Italy yet? We leave tomorrow.

yourusername …

Liked by charles_leclerc

pierregasly Get in there mate!

Liked by charles_leclerc

user1 I love their banter already😩

user2 They’re so cute what😭❤️

user3 She looks like a literal angel

user4 My fav singer and my fav driver… dating?! This is an actual dream come true wtaf

user5 People who oppose this will have to go through me first

user6 Nobody will be dense enough💀

user7 Nah I just know someone will be pressed about this

user8 Agreed lmao💀

user6 I mean ig😭💀

user9 I can’t wait to see all of her paddock outfits!!!

user10 Same! She's already so stylish, I bet she’s gonna go all in!!!

user11 I can’t wait to see Charles at her concerts lol

user12 Somehow I can actually imagine it

user13 My fav couple❤️

REQUESTS ARE CLOSED

𝙃𝙚𝙧𝙚’𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙢𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

𝙃𝙚𝙧𝙚’𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙩𝙖𝙜𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩! (𝙄𝙛 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙬𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙜𝙚𝙩 𝙤𝙣, 𝙥𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙚 𝙬𝙧𝙞𝙩𝙚 𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙨, 𝙙𝙢𝙨, 𝙤𝙧 𝙖𝙨𝙠𝙨: 𝙒𝙝𝙞𝙘𝙝 𝙙𝙧𝙞𝙫𝙚𝙧(𝙨) 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙬𝙝𝙞𝙘𝙝𝙩𝙮𝙥𝙚(𝙨) 𝙤𝙛 𝙛𝙞𝙘𝙨 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙬𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙗𝙚 𝙩𝙖𝙜𝙜𝙚𝙙 𝙞𝙣.)

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erodasfishtacos · 3 years

Text

HSLOT PHILLY

Like, comment, share, and come talk if you enjoyed the fic.

I write for free - so if you would like to support my work, you can donate here.

Harry is predictable.

He falls into the same patterns during every tour since he was on the Up All Night with One Direction.

The excitement that comes with the first couple of shows begins to fade as he starts his world wide tour that doesn’t end for nearly eight months.

His constant adrenaline wears off and his exhaustion from not having toured in two years settles deep in his bones.

YN senses it from a mile away, has nearly eleven years experience dealing with her jet-lagged, exhausted, and stubborn husband.

It hits the day of the Philadelphia show, they got in late the night before, and YN always set her alarm for seven thirty in the morning to workout.

Ninety-five percent of the time, Harry got up with her and they either did a jog around the new city or they took advantage of the in-hotel gym.

Four percent of the time, he would whine and tug the comforter over his head, whimpering, “M’too tired, baby. Stay in bed w’me.”

And then the one percent, which was today.

The alarm emits a low, constant beep that rouses YN, in the time she takes to rub her eye and come back into reality - Harry hisses with a sharp edge, “Turn tha’ fuckin’ thing off.”

She bites her tongue at his tone, reaching to turn it off but she can already tell what day they’re going to have.

YN slips out from under the covers and automatically gets a comment from her husband, it another whiney demand, “Cover m’feet, y’too the blanket off them.”

“Yes, your majesty,” YN replies reproachfully, rearranging the blankets before quietly moving around the room to change.

“Stop makin’ so much noise.”

“Turn off tha’ light.”

“S’too early f’this, d’you not care that m’tired?”

She chooses to ignore the remarks, hoping that he can sleep off the attitude.

When YN is about to leave, he grumbles, “Y’need to kiss me goodbye.”

Harry purses his lips for a soft kiss, not moving a muscle, and after that - she leaves to head down to the gym.

YN is required a body guard, definitely when she isn’t with Harry or a group of people, and she decided not to follow those rules today.

She had her TPWK water bottle in hand, a cute workout set on ***, and her AirPods tucked in her ear with some Spice Girls playing.

It’s only about twenty minutes into her exercise, a light jog on the treadmill, that a young girl slips up beside the machine.

YN is kind, stopping the belt to smile for a selfie before the girl scampers off and she resumes her run - music blasting.

However, what YN didn’t know, is that fans had found out early in the morning which hotel they where at and a hoard was rushing towards the small gym.

It’s not even ten minutes later when a swarm of fans in rushing into the work area, lining up around her machine with their phones flashing and recording.

She tries to be nice, “Hey! Uh, I’m just trying to workout. I’m sorry, but no pictures please.”

Then there is loud protest and people shoving each other, begging and pleading for a selfie or for her to sign something - all because she was Harry’s wife.

There is literally no exit to escape to, so she relents and anxiously calls Frank - one of the body guards - to come retrieve her.

The whole way back up to her hotel room, Frank is lecturing her about safety and how she could have gotten hurt.

And when he scans the keycard for her hotel room, she feels her stomach drop because Harry is sat against the kitchen counter.

His brown locks are rumpled and going every which way, just in his briefs that are low on his narrow hips, and absolutely irate expression on his face.

“Are y’fuckin’ kiddin’ me?” Harry snaps, brow furrowed and jaw clenched - his arms were crossed tightly against his chest.

“Good morning to you, sunshine,” YN mutters, shutting the door and kicking off her tennis shoes to the side.

“Don’t,” Harry replies sourly, “Please explain t’me why I get woken up by Frank to be told y’getting mobbed in the gym? And y’didn’t to call him.”

YN bristles at his tone, giving him a pointed look as she steps further into the room, “It’s not a big deal. I just wasn’t thinking.”

“Y’right about that, y’weren’t thinkin’. It is a big deal, y’could have gotten hurt - shouldn’t have t’babysit m’own wife,” Harry huffs, stomping back over to the bed and sliding back under the covers.

“You better watch your tone-“

They’re interrupted with a knock to their door, Harry throws the covers over his head and leaves YN to open the door.

It’s Jeff, who barges in with a coffee in one hand, “Come on, H. Did you forget? You have soundcheck early today and then you have to meet with FullStop to review the details of that new merchandise contract.”

“No, move it,” The popstar groans, muffled from the heavy blankets over him, and his manager and wife give each other a knowing look.

“We can’t. Get up, we need to leave in fifteen,” Jeff replies casually, unbothered as he sips from his to-go mug.

It has Harry dramatically ripping off the covers and getting out of bed, as he charges off towards the bathroom, he shouts backwards, “Wish someone would have fuckin’ told me! Like m’manager or m’wife!”

“Oh my god, here we go,” YN groans quietly to Jeff, snatching up the few things she needs for the venue as well as Harry’s and shoving them in his duffle.

He comes out a few moments later, dressed in running shorts and a vintage Queen shirt - going to tug on his Nikes without a word to either.

But in true Harry fashion, even when he’s mad, he’s still a gentleman. He slips the duffle off his wife’s shoulder so she doesn’t have to carry it.

“Thank you,” She murmurs but he avoids eye contact, being the first to open the hotel room and trudge towards the awaiting car.

It’s a quiet ride, Harry looks out the window with a deep frown and puffy eyes - eyes heavy from the lack of sleep.

Usually, he’d be curled into YN - snuggling as close as possible and asking for her to pet his hair to soothe him.

Not today. But he does have his hand on her thigh.

There’s already fans at the arena and Harry doesn’t acknowledge them - keeps his head down and walks quickly into the private entrance past the barricades.

When a irritated fan screams, “Asshole! We waited all night here for you!”

YN watches as Harry goes to turn, to say something but she pushes him forward through the door to prevent him from doing something he’d regret when wasn’t in a foul mood.

They manage through the long hallways, filled with bustling tour crew, and everybody there to make the show happen.

Sound check isn’t as fun as it usually is, the band stays low-key when Harry does exactly what he needs to do and nothing more.

And after the merch meeting, Harry has reached his limit apparently.

He was so tired, so fucking moody that he couldn’t deal with anymore human interaction.

YN has to step in when she gets a text from Harry Lambert.

Come get your husband. Sarah’s Kitchen.

She sighs, excusing herself from hanging out with Jeff and Glenne - she can hear him from the hallway and now she’s finally get irritated.

“I asked for that specific brand. It’s literally one of the only things I’ve asked for on this tour.”

YN takes a deep breathe before stepping in, there are crew trying not to stare as Harry complains to Sarah about something unimportant.

“Harry,” She says flatly, “Come on.”

He snatches his water bottle and follows his wife out without another word, trailing behind until they end up in his dressing room.

“You need to stop. You’re being a literal nightmare today,” YN tells him, watching him as he digs in the duffle.

“Where is m’charger? Did y’not pack it?” He ignores her words.

“I must have forgot. Harry, I know you’re tired but you can’t be treating everyone like-“

Harry pushes back the bag, seething for no reason, “I’ll treat people however the fuck I want!”

“You’re acting like a spoiled popstar right now,” YN replies, attempting to stay level-headed and calm with him.

“S’my show! M’tour!”

“Yes and everyone is here to support you and you’re treating them like shit. Including me, I’m your wife - the one person in the world that’s here for you no matter what and you’re being downright mean.”

“Y’so fuckin’ sensitive,” Harry mutters angrily, digging around to try to find a charger in a different bag.

And…that stung a bit.

When he doesn’t get a response, he looks up and notices how her demeanor had changed - it brings him back to reality for a little bit.

“I’m not going to stay here and be talked to like that because you don’t feel good. I’ll leave you alone because you are being insufferable.”

“Bab-“

YN is already out the door, storming back to Sarah’s kitchen to apologize for her husband’s diva behavior and everyone shrugs her off - knowing it’s not her fault.

She is sat down with the band and a few others when her husband saunters in, he doesn’t look at anyone else as he walks up to his wife.

“Baby, can I talk to you?” He mumbles, his warm hand coming to cup her shoulder.

“Harry,” YN says back, they’ve been together for so long that those words are all she needs to say for him to formulate a response.

“Come nap w’me please, need you. I’ll apologize t’you,” Harry says, his palm encompassing and big on her.

“Harry,” She repeats.

The crew looks on in amusement as Harry huffs, he lifts his head and speaks loudly to the room at once, “I apologize for my behavior. I have no excuse for getting upset like I have been today. I hope you guys can forgive me.”

Everyone assures him that they forgive him, most of them have dealt with actual spoiled celebrities and Harry was just having a bad day (which still really wasn’t that bad.)

“Okay, come on, bunny,” YN agrees, satisfied and can’t help but smile a bit when she stands up and Harry automatically intertwines their fingers to hold her hand.

The sofa in his dressing room folds out to be a bed and they still had hours before the show.

Once they’ve locked the doo and settled down on the mattress - they’re both laying on their sides, facing each other.

“M’sorry, darlin’,” Harry whispers, “I haven’t been very nice t’you today. I was just upset about the gym thing and just being so tired.”

YN hums, combing throwing his fluffy curls with her fingers as his hands explore over her hips and belly like always.

“You always get like this every once in a while on tour, like a little spoiled popstar,” YN says softly, no sharpness in her tone, “You also need to be nice to your wife.”

“M’always nice t’my wife,” He mumbles childishly, leaning forward to nip at her chin, “I am sorry, know tha’ when I act like that it embarrasses you.”

“You’re better than acting like that,” YN reminds him, allowing him to tug her into his warm, now bare chest, “I’m never gonna let you turn into some fame monster. You’re gonna stay the kind, funny, compassionate person I met when I was young.”

And when YN doesn’t get a reply, she glances to see Harry’s eyes shut, mouth slightly parted as he breathes rhythmically and his entire face relaxes as he sleeps.

“Still my boy,” YN murmurs lovingly, nuzzling before letting sleep overtake her.

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mosh-4 · 4 years

Text

stress

harry styles imagine

stress - you’re overwhelmed and forget to take care of yourself on the OTRA tour, and harry worries. (requested)

warning: lack of eating, stress, anxiety?

you are so stressed, but he doesn’t know that.

when Harry asked you to join him on the On The Road Again tour, you were ecstatic, but you had never imagined that it would be this hard.

you had a lot going on. at the end of the summer, you would have to return to school. while on tour, you were trying to complete some elective classes online in order for you to get some credits out of the way. it had been difficult for you to find time alone to study. with that going on, you also were dealing with family drama. you couldn’t help your family deal with your grandparents’ deteriorating health, and as much as you wanted to help and listen to them talk about it, it was hard with the time differences and the fact that they were in another country.

Harry, of course, didn’t know about any of this. you tried to keep everything that was going on to yourself. he left you alone at times because he knew were taking your classes, but you mostly spent that time on the phone talking with a family member.

you really didn’t want to share this with your boyfriend of two years because you were an independent person. you tended to keep your problems to yourself until you couldn’t handle them anymore. this was obviously not a great coping mechanism, but you couldn’t change it.

Harry had never seen you like this. although, it hadn’t ever been this bad when you were around him. the last time you had gotten like this, he was away on tour, and you had kept it to yourself.

“jesus, girl,” your cousin said through the phone. you had facetimed her to get an update on your grandparents, but the conversation had shifted to talking about you on tour, like it normal does. “you look like you’re wasting away.”

“what?” you said looking up from your notebook. it had the notes you took for the paper you were working on.

“you look almost dead,” she said. “are you getting any sleep?”

had you been getting any sleep? you hardly remember the last time you actually slept. you napped every now and then, but you stayed up at night to finish your assignments or to talk to your family.

“’m getting sleep,” you say defending yourself.

“okay,” you cousin started. “you’re getting regular sleep?”

you throw your hands up in the air.

“i’m on tour. there is no ‘regular sleep’.”

your cousin sighed. she knew you got defensive when you were hiding something.

“okay.” she sighed again. “you’re eating, too?”

“yes, I’m eating,” you snap.

to be honest, you couldn’t remember the last time you had an actual meal. you didn’t feel hungry when you got stressed. the thought of eating made you feel sick. you were too overwhelmed.

“okay, okay,” your cousin said raising her hands in defense. “i believe you.”

you rolled your eyes at her.

“’m fine,” you said calmly to reassure her that you were okay.

“i believe you,” she said. she moved to change the topic. “how is ‘mr. popstar’?”

you continued your conversation with her, filling her in on Harry, the band, and traveling, until she had to go back to babysitting her niece.

Harry was concerned. he noticed that you weren’t eating. he noticed that you were tired. whenever he asked about it, you snapped at him. you never would snap at him. he thought it was because of spending too much time together so he gave you some space.

it wasn’t until he noticed you having a hard time standing up after sitting for so long that he became really concerned. you stopped watching his shows. instead of standing in the front row cheering him on, you sat backstage and ‘worked on your assignments’. you started getting ‘headaches’. everyday, you claimed to have a headache.

he worried for you. he could see the bags under your eyes. he could see light draining from your eyes. you were always cold.

he didn’t know what to do. he would ask, but you would say you were ‘fine’. he would ask you to get dinner, but you claimed to have already eaten and were busy. he would ask you to come to bed with him, but you said you had work to do.

he was at a loss. you needed help. you were not yourself, and he felt awful.

he did something he promised himself he would never do.

he planned to wake up an hour before he usually did, which was an hour after you went to bed. he reached over you and grabbed your phone. he rolled himself out of the bunk before taking a seat at the kitchen table on the bus. he unlocked your phone. he knew your password was your birthday. he opened your messages and got your cousin’s phone number from her contact on your phone.

he sent her a text.

harry: hey, it’s Harry Styles. i have some questions to ask you when you have time.

he waited at the table for her response. she responded in a few minutes.

(y/c/n): hi!

(y/c/n): what’s up?

harry: i’m a little worried about (y/n)

he saw her typing.

(y/c/n): what has you worried?

he definitely didn’t want to talk about this over text.

harry: is it okay if i call you?

he waited for her response. he rubbed a hand over his face and let out a sigh.

(y/c/n): yes

“am i crazy to be worried?”

“no. there is something going on. she gets like this periodically.”

Harry had been talking to your cousin for about 20 minutes. he went over everything that had been going on. you barely sleeping, barely eating, and always working.

“what is it?” he asked.

“stress,” your cousin responded before going into the stuff going on with your family.

Harry rubbed a hand over his face.

“i had no idea,” he sighed. “why didn’t she tell me?”

“she tries to keep these things to herself.” he heard your cousin pause before continuing. “it was really bad in high school. she forgot to eat and sleep all the time. she was so focused on her work. it wasn’t until she passed out during school that anyone really noticed. she’s good at hiding this stuff, and she doesn’t tell anyone anything until it gets really bad.”

“i feel so awful,” he started. how could he not see it before.

“don’t beat yourself up about it,” you cousin interrupted him. “the only reason i could see it happen was because i have seen her do this before. she pushes everyone who tries to help away. she thinks she can do it all on her own, and she doesn’t recognize that she’s taking on too much.”

“how did you get her out of it before?”

“get her away from her work. get her mind off it. take her out or something. she needs to eat something. she can’t think straight when she hasn’t eaten. then, try to get her to sleep. if she’s really exhausted, an old movie will make her sleep.”

“okay,” he sighed.

“Harry, it’s going to be okay,” she said. “she’s going to be okay. this happens. she’ll break at some point, and then she’ll puts herself back together again. it’s just different because she’s traveling this time, but she’ll be okay. she always is.”

“okay,” he murmured. he rubbed his eyes.

“keep me posted?” your cousin asked.

“of course,” he said raising his head. “i’ll let you know how it goes.”

“great, thank you.”

Harry had bid her a goodbye before they hung up. your cousin had to go to sleep. she was a couple hours behind you both.

Harry shuffled back to your bunk. he plugged both of your phones back into their chargers before climbing into the bunk to lay next to you. he watched you sleep peacefully before snuggling in close with you. he fell back asleep with you in his arms. he hoped to himself that you would be okay.

“come with me.”

“i can’t.”

“you’ve been working all day, and it’s saturday,” Harry argued. “come explore the city with me, please.”

you sighed. you wanted to be left alone. you didn’t want to be around people.

“Harry, i want to stay in,” you whine throwing your head back.

“you’ve been staying in for the past two weeks. just take a day off from working and come spend time with me. i miss you,” he said slightly upset that she was denying him again.

“Harry-”

“stop with the excuses,” he shouted throwing his arms in the air. “i miss you. you’re always busy with school, and i know it’s important, but i miss you. can we just spend one day out exploring this city together?”

you sighed. you felt bad. you knew he was right. you hadn’t spent any time with him.

“fine,” you sighed. “i’m sorry. we can do whatever you want tonight.”

you walked hand in hand around the city. it was beautiful. you had walked through the streets for a few hours. you visited local shops and took a walk through a park. you were having a great time, but you were growing tired.

“do you want to grab lunch?” Harry asked pointing to a little café.

“sure,” you breathed out.

Harry could tell you were growing paler. he needed to get you to eat soon.

you both sat at a table in the back of the café, and he went to the counter to order for the both of you. he grabbed you a cup of tea and a sandwich. it was always your go-to.

he got you to eat some of your sandwich. you seemed to be less pale. you felt less tired. you both sat at the café and talked until you had finished your lunch.

Harry was glad that you ate something.

“do you want to go back to the hotel and watch a movie?” he asked brushing a hand through his long hair.

“sure, curly,” you said grabbing his other hand that was on the table. “thanks for buying me lunch. i’ll buy next time.”

he laughed. you seemed more like yourself.

on the walk back to your hotel, you had become sluggish. unknown to him, you held his arm to keep you upright. he though you were being affectionate. you squeezed your eyes shut as you waited at the crosswalk. you bit the side of your cheek to try to get the dizziness to pass.

on the elevator ride up to your hotel room, Harry could feel your nails digging into his arm. he looked over to you.

“you okay?” he asked as his eyes inspected you. you had your eyes squeezed shut.

the elevator dinged at your floor. you took a step out of the elevator before your vision became blurry.

“’m fine,” you whispered before it all went black.

your body began to drop before Harry swiftly reached out to catch you calling your name. he pulled you up into his arms before carrying you bridal style back to your room. he unlocked the door before calling Niall freaking out.

you woke up to a crowded room. you were extremely groggy. there was a bright light shining in your eyes. you heard faint beeping.

f*ck, you thought.

“mhm,” you moan slightly trying to get your voice to work.

Harry’s head whipped to you as he finished talking with the doctor. he quickly made his way to your bedside.

“hey,” he cooed softly. “how are you?”

“where am i?” you said quietly.

“i had to call an ambulance,” he whispered gently to you. “you passed out on me. you weren’t waking up.”

he brushed a hand softly through your hair. his own hair was tied up with one of your hair ties.

“oh,” you whisper looking down at your feet. you still had your clothes from earlier on. you had an IV in your arm.

the doctor approached you and introduced herself.

“we want to monitor you overnight. you seem exhausted and slightly malnourished, and it’s causing your body stress,” the doctor stated.

“uh, okay,” you said processing what she said. “you have a show tonight,” you say turning to Harry.

“it’s okay,” he said calming you down. “we can cancel.”

“no,” you argue. “you can’t do that. i won’t let you. that’s not fair.”

“are you kidding?” he shot back. “you’re in the hospital. you passed out. i want to be here with you.”

“you can go to your show. that’s not fair to your fans, and i’ll be here after the show. i can’t really leave.”

you argued with him for a few more minutes before he agreed to go to the show, only after Lottie agreed to be with you while he was at his show. he thanked her profusely before finally leaving. he had already missed sound check, and he had two hours until the show began.

throughout the show, he was distracted. he messed up the words to at least two songs. he didn’t goof off with the crowd. he just wanted to be with you. he felt like he messed up, like it was his fault that this happened. he had talked to your cousin as soon as you had been admitted to the hospital. she had tried to comfort him, but it didn’t work. he wanted you to be honest with him. he wanted you to confide in him, but you didn’t. you didn’t let him in. you bottled up your stress, and you got hurt because of it. he felt awful that he couldn’t see you suffering.

his eyes welled up as they sang Little Things. he thought of you, and his heart clenched. he voice became thick, and Liam helped him sing through the end of the song before placing a hand on his shoulder. Harry wiped his eyes before going for his bottle of water. he took a drink instead of blowing water out of his mouth like a whale like he usually did.

he was counting down the minutes until he could see you.

you and Lottie were talking in your hospital room as you ate a cup of hospital pudding. your eyes were getting tired, but you wanted to see Harry before you fell asleep.

at the end of the movie you were both watching, Harry made an appearance.

“hey, lovie,” he said as he entered your room.

“hey,” you greeted sitting up in your bed.

he pulled you into a hug. you could tell he just showered from the slight dampness of his hair and the smell of his shampoo. he released you before sending a small wave to Lottie. you exchanged how your night was with each other before Lottie decided to head back to the hotel.

you were curled up in the bed with Harry laying next to you. you had your head resting on his chest. he was running a hand through your hair while an old movie played on the tv.

“will you tell me what’s going on, love?” he murmured.

he felt your shift in his arms, but you never turned to face him.

“it’s been bad, haz,” you sighed.

“you can tell me about it,” he said.

“it’s hard to juggle everything. i got stressed,” you started. Harry could feel you sigh. “my family is having problems back home. my grandparents are getting older, and my aunt and uncles are fighting about it. i can’t do anything about it because i’m here, but it’s not like they would listen to me anyway if i was there.” you took a breath. “and, school has been hard. the assignments are harder, and i want to get a good grade so i can boost my gpa. it’s hard to juggle it all, you know?”

“mhmm,” he hummed gently letting you talk.

“this happens sometimes. everyone freaks out about it. i get stressed, and i forget eating and sleeping are a thing. i guess i was in denial that it was getting bad. i think (y/c/n) tried to tell me that i was getting bad, but i was mean to her,” you whispered. tears were forming in your eyes. you took a heavy breath. “i-i was mean to you. i’m sorry,” you voice cracks as you let out a little sob.

Harry pulled you in close.

“hey,” he whispered softly. “you don’t have to be sorry. it happens but let me help you when you’re stressed. you don’t have to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders. please let me in. let me carry it with you. i love you. we’re a team, right?”

you nod to him wiping your eyes.

“we’re a team. i love you too.”

he placed a kiss on your head before letting you fall asleep as you watched the old movie. you spent your night curled up with your boyfriend in a hospital bed with a heavy burden lifted off your chest.

hope you enjoyed! feel free to send requests - mosh

#harry styles imagines #Harry Styles #harrystyles #harry styles angst #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #one direction #onedirection #one direction imagines

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idkthisisjustforfanfic · 4 years

Photo

two years too late, chapter t e n

Alyssa’s lips pulled towards the ground--the expression on her face twisted into anger as you waited for her to respond. “This weekend? Of all weekends you have to go this weekend?” Her voice echoed through the small living room, her eyes searching your face for some sign that you were kidding.

“Yeah--he’s got a meeting or something. It’s part of his birthday, too!”

“It’s my company’s big gala, Y/N! You’ve known about this for months and you’re bagging the week before?”

“M’sorry, okay? I wouldn’t just be bagging if it was for someone other than him.”

She let out a groan at that, her hands flopped against her side, she moved towards the kitchen as if starting to cook dinner would be calming. You stepped back from her, feet hitting the hardwood floor as if being in her path was dangerous.

“Fine--whatever. I’ll just go by myself and look pathetic because everyone else will have a date.”

“Alyssa!”

“Don’t!” She turned around quickly, her eyes wide and hands on her hips. “You’re bailing. Call it what it is and don’t try to make an excuse.”

“I’m bailing for a good reason, though!”

“Because your popstar friend asked you to go away with him?”

Silence for a second. The afternoon was baked in winter sun, dipping beneath the buildings that created a skyline above. You wanted to correct her--more than a friend at this point--but you didn’t.

“What happened to the Y/N who thought this was all a good joke? The one who thought he’d head back out on tour and forget about you again?”

You bit at your lip. Her words were salt on a wound, but you didn’t tell her that.

You could ask yourself the same question. Where had she gone? How had the logical, realistic voice in your head who’d been convinced that all of this was too little too late suddenly be willing to jet off into the sunset with the boy who broke your heart?

“You’re sounding a lot like Jessie,” you observed, a scowl coming over your own face as she stared back at you. “Unsupportive, pessimistic, Jessie Alby.”

She rolled her eyes at this, a shake of her head before she headed for the kitchen again.

“You’ll be with co-workers!” You reminded her, trailing behind as she opened up the fridge.

“Pat and Erin are both bringing dates.”

“What about that Lauren girl?”

“Laura,” she corrected.

“She’ll be there!”

“With her husband.”

It was your turn to groan now, you leaned against the counter and watched as she pulled a knife from the drawer to start chopping an onion. The blade met the cutting board she’d set out before you broke the news--you wondered if she imagined it was you she was chopping to bits.

“Well Jesus, Alyssa--it’s not like I’m bailing for the grocery store. This is California! With him! He said it’d be romantic!”

She didn’t say anything. She kept her eyes on the vegetable in front of her and kept her mouth twisted into a grimace. A noise from out in the hallway--neighbors home from a Sunday afternoon trip to Whole Foods.

It wasn’t that you didn’t understand. After Harry fell asleep the night before, a smile on his face when you agreed to go with him, reality set in. You’d promised back in October to be Alyssa’s date the first weekend in February, her company’s big fundraising gala and she was required to go.

There’ll be free alcohol and cute investors there, she enticed. You can even tweet about how stuffy it is if you don’t name the company.

It was shitty--she was counting on your companionship and six days beforehand was a bit short notice to bail. But like you’d said. You weren’t bailing for just anyone or anything.

“I’m really sorry, okay? But this--it feels really different and really good and I just--I really like him. I mean, what was I supposed to do, say no?”

She set the knife down calmly, her hands on the counter when she turned to face you. “No but--you could have least talked to me before deciding.” She wasn’t as angry now, she had a look of disappointment in her eyes when she turned towards the sink.

There wasn’t much you could say in response. I’m sorry, I suck, I’m a shitty friend. None of it would change the way she felt and none of it held space for the excitement in your chest at the thought of a house in Beverly Hills all to yourselves.

So you gave her space. You packed a bag and headed to Harry’s. An apology text before bed went unanswered, a meme you sent on Monday at work didn’t even get a thumbs up.

The apartment was empty when you keyed in that night, you figured she was at a spin class or out to drinks with a coworker. You’d showered and shimmied into your sheets before she came in--straight to her room without even saying hi. The only sign she was home was the jiggling of the doorknob and the living room light that flooded under the crack below your door.

It was the same on Tuesday. She made coffee in silence and left earlier than usual for work, her words sparse and distant when she headed out the door.

When you sat on the couch at Harry’s apartment that night, his eyebrows pointed towards his nose, his head tilted as he listened to the words spill out of you.

“I get that she’s mad, y’know? I get that I told her I’d go and that she doesn’t want to be alone there, but come on! It’s you. I’m not bailing to hang out with Carly or some random guy I met on Tinder! I just wish she’d be a bit more understanding.”

He was quiet, clearly unsure if you had more to say. When you took a deep breath, he smiled a bit, a laugh escaped his pink lips in the dim living room.

“Maybe you should stay.”

“What?” You pulled away from him, the leather of the couch letting your leggings slide effortlessly. “Harry, no! I already said I was coming, I want to!”

“I know, lovie, but--I dunno, I feel bad knowing Alyssa will be by herself.”

You felt a thump in your chest, you weren’t used to nicknames aside from Smalls.

“She’s fine,” you said, waving a hand to truly convince him that your roommate would be alright by herself. Selfish. Fine--you could admit that, own it. You were excited for a weekend with Harry where you wouldn’t have to pretend to be anything but what you were.

Friends who became more and now somehow lived in the unknown territory that felt remarkably similar to being friends with benefits. Good benefits. Sleeping at his house and toothbrush in his bathroom benefits.

And Los Angeles was full of celebrities, right? Harry wouldn’t stick out like a sore thumb and it gave a perfect excuse to make some type of low key announcement.

Pictures of you and Harry heading out to dinner? Work. You tagging along to business meetings with Harry? (You imagined them to have coffee and sparkling water and interns who waited on him hand and foot). Work! It was all work.

There was plenty to do in Los Angeles that could give you the cover of it being a work trip, for both of you. And it was, sort of.

But you got back on track. “Alyssa is one of the most extroverted people I know--she doesn’t need a date.”

He offered a look of disappointment, one that pulled a groan right out of your mouth.

“I know I suck, alright? But hear me out: we go to LA, people will undoubtedly see us together. I announce that I’m working on the story. All is well in the world.”

He pushed his lips out, deep in thought. His left eyebrow twitched a little, he swallowed. “What about the people who go digging and find old photos of us and realize that--” he trailed off. When you raised your eyebrows, he spit it out. “It’s more than work?”

You let out a soft laugh. “I mean, I deleted every photo of us from all of my social media accounts. Jake and Adam are private on instagram, I think Bryn is too.”

“So what about Jessie?”

“I’ll ask her to take down whatever photos she has of us.” You shrugged as if it was casual. As if asking that of your boisterous and bold friend wouldn’t open up a conversation that you didn’t want to have. It’d been almost a week since you’d spoken and now didn’t feel like a good time to give Jessie more ammunition to tell you what a moron you were.

“Think she will?”

You rolled your eyes. Jessie was the type of person who’d say no just because she didn’t like being told what to do.

He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your forehead, his words quiet when he rose from the couch. “I know you know this, but, I don’t mind if people know.”

His words were simple, they hung in the air when you watched him walk over to the kitchen for a glass of water. Of course he didn’t mind--it didn’t put him at risk.

Unlike him, at night when you couldn’t sleep, you’d lay away and think of all the things that could happen. You’d count the taxis that honked their horns and list off the terrifying possibilities one by one.

I could lose my job. I could lose friends in Whitney and Carly. People would think I’m using him for fame. People would hate me because I know him.

And then what happened when it was all over? When Harry’s schedule got the best of him again and when it whisked him away to prance around on some stage in Switzerland?

The dust in your life would settle and you’d be left unemployed, labeled a liar by the New York pop journalism scene. You’d go back to take out on the couch with Alyssa (if she didn’t cut you out for good) and watching him from afar on social media. Maybe you’d go back to getting Happy Christmas! group texts.

Jessie would tell you how stupid you were, Adam and Bryn would agree, Jake would pretend to be neutral until he couldn’t stand the tension.

Fractions of scenarios grew into life altering situations. No job. No friends. No Harry. You couldn’t imagine anything worse.

You could be hopeful that it wouldn’t shake out like that. Maybe he wouldn’t just leave you behind again--maybe Whitney wouldn’t hate your guts and fire you on the spot.

But the same voice that once tried to tell you this was all two years too late now echoed a new mantra. If this was all going to fall apart at the beginning of March, at least you could have fun while it lasts.

Because it won’t last long.

You decided calling out sick on Friday wasn’t the way to do it. You didn’t remember Harry having such a penchant for honesty, but he (along with his assistant) had successfully convinced you to get the okay from Whitney to be out of office for work purposes. Harry would have loved it if you came out with it altogether (what do you want me to do, you asked, tell her how great you are in bed?), but you reminded that patience was a virtue and that Whitney would be more likely to forgive your lies if she’d already read an impressive and exclusive interview.

So you told her at lunch on Wednesday that you had an update for her--she scheduled a block of time for you to come sit in her office, the tiny people in windows across the street were a reminder that life continued outside of the nerve wracking meetings in her office.

She was excited--rambling at first about how her bagel rating instagram had reached one hundred thousand followers. Whitney was one of the few people at The Scoop to have more of an internet presence than you. Her love for bagels and her obsession with The Bachelor franchise seemed to gather people into her corner.

“So,” she set her phone down after showing you the recent message she’d gotten from a bagel company in Michigan (a supply of one hundred bagels if she’d review them at 5 stars). “What’s up? How’s Harry?” A wiggle of her eyebrows let you know that she was just as enchanted by your famous friend as the rest of the world was.

“Well--actually, that’s why I’m here. He, uh, he invited me to go to Los Angeles this weekend. He’s got some meetings about his tour, finalizing some things. Said he thought it might be a good opportunity for the interview.”

Her eyes were wide. “Like, with him? This weekend?”

You nodded. “For the story, obviously.”

She thought on it for a second, her lips pursed together and she fiddled with a pen on top of her desk. “I like it--it’s like one of those day in the life pieces but you’re getting so much more, obviously, if it’s a few days.”

A sigh of relief.

She shrugged. “Kind of shocking he asked--he’s a pretty private guy from what I’ve heard, but as long as you’re okay doing that? I know you’d lose a weekend.”

“S’fine, yeah--no, it’d be cool for sure. Anything for a good story, right?”

She laughed, “how many times have you sat with him now?”

“Three,” you lied.

“And what have you touched on?”

“A lot of stuff about being solo, his take on life after meteoric fame, the things that make him normal,” you shrugged. That was all true--those were the things you talked about. But sometimes it was over a glass of wine on his sofa or when you stared at the ceiling before bed at night.

Her eyes lit up and she dropped the pen on her desk. “It’s going to be so good, Y/N! I can’t wait to read it!”

You nodded, forcing a smile before standing from the chair opposite her desk.

“So--I’ll talk with Tiffany and get a flight booked for you? I can have her reach out to his manager and get that squared away.”

“No, no--it’s not--he said I can go, like, on a plane with him.”

“With him?” Her eyebrows rose, a smirk on her face when you nodded. “You must be making a pretty good impression.”

“He’s just friendly,” you corrected. “Really down to earth.”

She laughed, leaning back in her chair and checking the text that lit up on her phone. “Probably the whole British thing--makes him feel at home, I bet. Hey--you don’t--did you live anywhere near him before he was famous? Have you bonded over tea or the Union Jack?”

The words tumbled out of your mouth, spilling onto her desk and landing in her lap before you could even process her question. “No, I grew up close to Leeds and I don’t know where he did. But yeah, I’ll be gone just Friday then for this and I’ll uh, I can get you a draft or something?”

“Well, it’s running online March 1st--so I’ll need the final by February 20th or so. Let’s just meet when you’re back and talk about the direction, sound good?”

A nod, a desperate nod to end the conversation in hopes of getting your heart rate somewhere near normal. You hurried out of her office and back towards your desk. A text from Harry waited on your phone.

Harry S (4:36pm): Can you stop and get cream on your way home from work?

A blush on your cheeks--you were headed to his, not yours, but he still called it home. As if it was yours, too.

If you weren’t convinced the first time, the second time really did you in. Champagne was much better at 30,000 feet.

The tiny plane was a recipe for motion sickness though, so after the first few sips, you didn’t have anything until dinner that night. A French restaurant in Malibu. One his friend had suggested.

He had a meeting the first morning, which gave you time to sleep in before he insisted on heading to a tiny beach. Barely ever crowded, he said. He watched you dance around on the sand, much warmer than anything in Britain. The waves were tall and strong, apparently dangerous if you didn’t know what you were doing.

He showed you how to get past them, dunking under the current when they rolled by or floating over them, face up towards the sky and belly in the sun. He kissed you in the car afterwards, signing at the top of his lungs when his own song came on the radio.

Always been a cocky boy, you chided.

On the second day he wanted to show you some of his favorite places. A diner on the Pacific Coast Highway, the house where he’d stayed with the band when they came for the first time. A smile stretched across his cheeks when he listed off the memories at each one, pulling you into a world of his that had existed without you for the last five years.

You tagged along to a casual meeting with his tour manager in the afternoon, lunch was an outdoor cafe with ivy growing up the egg-shell white walls. You’d felt the nervous energy in your chest--it wasn’t new.

But being in LA was. It was warm and sunny and Harry seemed to know the city like the back of his hand--he had a confidence here that he certainly lacked in New York.

It was also new to be sitting across the table from him, sunglasses over both of your faces while you sipped mimosas, almost free of worry about being recognized or photographed.

You’d talked it all out the night before, too. He reiterated the words he’d said in his living room a few days back. Don’t worry about it, s’gonna be fine. You can announce the story and people will believe it.

So when you came through the doors of the house hidden down a winding street off the coast, you didn’t expect to feel so frantic when you saw a picture of his hand on the small of your back. He’d disappeared into the kitchen, placing leftovers in the fridge that you’d insisted on taking home.

When he found you in the bedroom upstairs, knees to your chest as you zoomed in closer, his voice startled you.

“Whatcha lookin’ at?”

You looked up quickly, pulse rising as he came over to the bed to wrap his arms around your shoulders. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, a noise tumbling out of his mouth when his eyes landed on the picture--still pulled up on your phone.

“Oh.”

You bit your lip, keeping your eyes on it when he pulled away. “S’a little close, huh?”

Anyone who looked at the photo would undoubtedly notice the way you both seemed so comfortable, his fingers grazing the hem of your shirt as you rounded the corner of the restaurant, heading for his parked car on the street.

“S’fine,” you said quickly, catching on to the nervousness in his voice. You wiggled your toes when you set the phone face down on the duvet. “S’alright--we knew they’d get one.”

“Yeah,” he nodded, his hands now on his hips. He’d taken off the sweater he’d worn to dinner--he was now clad in a simple t-shirt. “Have you looked at Twitter? S’there anything happening?”

Your lips inadvertently pushed out, avoiding his eyes for a few seconds before he shifted on his feet. He raised his eyebrows and nudged his chin towards you, a silent direction to open the app.

You pulled it up, tapping over to search your name. He stepped forward, chin over your shoulder while you scrolled.

“Honestly not terrible--they’re not really attacking you.”

“Yet,” the word slipped out between your lips, eyes peering up when he frowned at your insinuation. He stepped forward and laid down on the bed, chin in his hands as he looked up at you.

“Have you thought about what you’ll say?”

A shrug of your shoulders as he adjusted on the white duvet. A telly was mounted on the opposite wall--he promised you could watch a good movie before bed tonight.

“Just something casual. Might say that the story will be out in March. Dunno.”

He nodded, looking over his shoulder quickly to the attached en suite bathroom. A sigh escaped his lips, he turned back to look at you, eyes as wide as silver dollars when a smirk pulled at his lips. “Want dessert?”

“What?”

“I could go for fro-yo.”

“Fro-yo?”

“Yeah,” his brows furrowed together. “You’ve had it, haven’t you?”

“Yeah, Harry, I know what fro-yo is. You’re just extremely off topic.”

“Just don’t want you to stress. Let’s take a bath.”

You pulled your head back, amused by the wiggling of his eyebrows as he hoisted himself up from the bed.

“A bath?”

He was already barefoot on the tile floor, reaching over the empty tub to tug on the faucet. It took him a minute, but when he pressed the right button and twisted the right knob, water gushed down towards the drain, the sound immediately steadying your heartbeat.

He turned around, a cocky grin on his face as he waited for praise.

You repeated your question. “A bath?”

“Yeah,” his voice was so nonchalant. “I promised a romantic weekend and m’going to deliver, Smalls.” As if his not doing so would be tragic.

You shook your head, amused as he turned back around to check the temperature. He put his hand beneath the faucet, nodding proudly when he looked back to see you. “S’good.”

He reached his hands down to his waist, his fingers tugging at the fabric of his shirt to pull it up and over his shoulders. He let it drop to the floor, his gaze meeting yours when your eyes trailed up from the ink on his tummy. He shoved his hands between the skin of his hips and the waistband of his trousers, pushing them down to his knees before shimmying out of them altogether.

“Going to join?” The smirk on his face welcomed the dimples in his cheeks, his eyes playful as he removed the pair of boxer briefs around his hips. You felt a blush tint your cheeks. Even though it wasn’t a new sight, the clumsiness of sleeping with one of your best friends suddenly flooded the bathtub alongside the water Harry climbed into.

He watched with greedy eyes when you followed the same pattern of undressing, far more modest than he was when your skin was exposed to the air around you. He smiled up at you, the water just passing his hips.

“M’going to have to wait until there’s more water--you’re hogging all of it.”

He looked down, a mocked expression of panic crossed his face. His hands moved through the bath with smoothness, a confused look on his face when his eyes met yours. “Uh oh--looks like you’re going to have to be near me.”

“Piss off,” you quipped, a quick roll of the eyes as you lifted a knee to place one foot in the water. It was warm, goosebumps traveled up your thighs when he took your hands to offer support, your other foot followed suit until you stood between his legs.

You lowered yourself down to sit, the water settled below your belly button in the big tub, a warm sensation spread over your cheeks when he smiled at you. “What?”

“Nothin’--you’re just,” he shrugged, “pretty.”

You let your eyebrows raise quickly, falling back down when a small laugh escaped your lips--muffled by the still running water. “My eyeliner is probably smudged,” you told him, letting the pads of your fingers reach up to wipe beneath your eyes.

He reached for your wrist, pulling your hand to his mouth before pressing a kiss to the backside. “Thanks for coming with me,” he paused. “I’ve never taken a bath with someone who’s interviewed me before.”

“Okay,” you narrowed your eyes. “You ruined a perfectly sweet moment.”

He splashed a bit of water in your direction, giggling when you pulled another face.

“Alright,” he relented, clearing his throat when you watched him expectantly. “I, uh, I really like you, Smalls.”

The right corner of your mouth twitched up, the vulnerability in his voice was evident. His eyes seemed to search your face for emotion, something he desperately hoped to find.

The water still ran, the steady sound from the faucet kept time, seconds ticking by as you sat, naked, in front of him.

“Are you going to say it back?”

He looked fearful, like the silence between you was a threat to his sanity.

You waited, a bit out of fear and a bit out of a desire to make him squirm. “I like you too,” you said, a small nod. It was true, four words that would go down in history as a factual statement, but they didn’t even begin to capture the complexity of your relationship.

It wasn’t as simple as saying you liked him or saying you had fun with him. It wasn’t as easy as saying the sex was good and it was fun to sleep in his king sized bed and get driven around by Roger.

It was more than the lounging on his couch or the sneaking in and out of each other’s apartments.

Because what those words didn’t convey was the tightness in your chest when you thought about the weeks ahead. The interview, the tour, the rest of life as you knew it and the way it would cease to exist.

Saying you liked him didn’t explain that you were nervous he’d leave you again for the excitement of fame of fortune. It didn’t even begin to demonstrate the anxiety that coursed through your veins when you thought about the power he had over you now.

If he broke your heart back then, what could he do now?

You brought your eyes up to meet his, a deep green against the various shades of bathroom beige. He reached to turn the water off, “What is it?”

You licked at your lips, a drip from the faucet broke the silence, you forced a smile. Shrugged your shoulders. You didn’t have the words to begin.

“Y/N,” he said your name seriously, sat up more straight like his posture would pull it out of you.

Dipped eyebrows, a pout on his lips.

“Yeah?”

“What’s wrong?”

He reached for your hand underwater, his thumb rubbing a circle on top of your skin. You twisted your lips, bit at the inside of your cheek as you contemplated all the possible answers.

But that was when it hit you.

Maybe it wasn’t all his fault that things seemed to be two years too late. Maybe the real issue was your own inability to speak up--to tell him how you felt and wait for a response before running and hiding and cursing him out.

So, you took a breath.

“M’afraid.”

“Of what?”

A sigh. “Of you, I guess.”

He didn’t say anything, he watched you shrug again and laugh as if this was all silly. As if sitting between his legs in a bathtub in Beverly Hills was silly. As if flying to California and writing a story about him was silly. As if pretending you hadn’t always loved him would somehow change the narrative.

When he still didn’t speak, you knew he wanted more.

“Of what could happen.” You decided to edit that. “Of how this could ruin our friendship.”

Still quiet. He took a breath and let it out, blinked a few times before he let his eyes drop to the water, bending a knee to rest his elbow on top. “I know, Smalls--and that’s kind of why I didn’t want to rush to label anything, I guess.”

“What do you mean?”

He ran a wet hand through his hair to keep pieces from falling in front of his eyes. “S’why I said a while ago that I wasn’t seeing anyone else. I didn’t want you thinking that this,” a pause, he twisted a palm towards the vaulted ceiling, “means nothing. It means a lot.”

You nodded--it wasn’t necessarily that you believed him or knew what he meant, but you wanted him to keep talking. When you were silent, he took it as his cue.

“I don’t want it to ruin our friendship. But so far it feels like it’s just made our friendship better. Enhanced it, even. I kind of think that’s how relationships should be, yeah? A best friend that you’re attracted to, one who’s good in bed. I mean, that’s the whole package.” A smirk tugged at his lips and he tried to regain composure. “I’d rather you be my girlfriend than my friend, anyway.”

He shifted in the water, eyes on yours.

“Yeah?”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

He reached forward and pulled you close to him, your legs tangled beneath the water, fingers likely getting pruney. He kissed you, his lips all over your cheeks and your nose and your chin before he landed on your mouth, you could feel the way his lips curved into a smile.

“Only took you about a decade.”

He rolled his eyes, playful and exaggerated before reaching up to brush hair behind your ear. “Now you’re the one who just ruined a perfectly sweet moment.”

There was breakfast at a cute cafe, another meeting on Sunday morning before you met a few friends of his for lunch. A baseball cap offered privacy from the sun and the photographers that seemed to linger around every street corner--it took everything inside of you not to reach for his hand.

The hum of the airplane cabin on Sunday afternoon threatened to lull you to sleep, but you decided to use the time to brainstorm possible starts and middles and endings of the story. Words and sentences were jumbled on the screen of your laptop, Harry’s eyes were closed in the seat across from you.

There’d been photographers at the airport--there always are, he said. They called his name and somehow knew yours too. You wondered how much this would blow up on the other end of things, but luckily you had six hours in the sky to calm your nerves.

And writing usually helped. Hearing the sound of your fingers on the keyboard typically gave your heart something to beat along to. But this time, Harry’s hooded eyes closed after take off, a cup of tea was your only company as you tried, desperately, to draft up what felt a lot more like a confession than an interview.

A car waited at JFK--blacked out windows and a smiling driver that you didn’t recognize. You were dropped curbside at your apartment, insisting that you didn’t need any help up to your apartment. After all, there were likely enough suspicious photos from the weekend--evidence of Harry helping you into your flat was really just fuel for the fire at this point.

So you climbed the stairs alone after a kiss in the backseat, promising to text him later and probably even see him tomorrow.

He was happy--he seemed it, at least--when he referred to you as his girlfriend that morning on the phone with whoever was arranging your ride to the airport.

But you weren’t about to bust into the apartment and tell all that to Alyssa. Despite a few text messages that had been exchanged during the trip--including your guilt-ridden inquiry about her work event--you knew you had to tread carefully. You were still working your way back to baseline.

She was on the couch when you keyed in, pulling the hat from your head and hanging your keys on the hook beside you. She muted the telly, asking the normal pleasantries you ask someone after a trip, her curiosity seemed genuine, her excitement sincere.

Eventually, you handed her the small canvas tote bag you’d seen inside a store in Thousand Oaks.

She turned the fabric over in her hands, eyes inspecting the colorful display of landmarks. The Hollywood sign was painted on the front, the Capitol Records building and the Venice Beach sign adorned the lower corners.

“Figured you needed a new one since the one you use has a hole in the bottom.”

She laughed, eyes flickering over to the canvas tote that hung on a hook beneath the counter. You’d watched her stuff it to the brim multiple times. Spices, vegetables, baguettes and desserts alike. She’d gotten it when she first moved here--a few months before you. It was a tote from the Student Activities office of her former university.

“Thanks,” she said, still admiring it. “S’nice of you to think of me.”

“Alyssa,” you rolled your eyes, a bit dramatic to get a laugh out of her. “Just because you were mad at me for being a dick doesn’t mean I’d forget about you.”

She let out a sigh, standing from the couch as she tried to mask the smile on her face. “I, uh, have something to tell you.”

“Yeah?” You folded your legs beneath you, leaning forward on the cushions in excitement. You’d been home for less than an hour and things felt relatively normal--at least, as normal as they could.

“I met someone this weekend.”

“You did? Who is he?”

She shrugged her shoulders, eyes fluttering--a sure sign she was trying to play it cool. “His name is Owen.”

“Owen?!” You bounced in place, the smile on your cheeks stretched from ear to ear.

Alyssa rarely went on dates and she rarely talked about them afterwards. “It was fun and he was nice--asked me to see him again and I’m going to.”

And she never went on second dates.

“Bloody fuck are you mad?!”

“I just like him,” she laughed, lifting the empty tote bag over her shoulder, eyeing it in the mirror between your bedroom doors. “Looks good,” she said casually.

“Don’t change the subject,” you stood from the couch. “When are you seeing him again?”

“I dunno--later in the week maybe. Friday or something. Be cool about this, okay?”

“Okay, yeah,” you smoothed out your hair and cleared your throat. “I can be cool about it.”

“If you get freaked out about it I’m going to get freaked out about it.”

“M’not freaked out,” you lied. “Not at all.”

“Me neither,” she said, shedding the bag and letting it fall to the coffee table. “So it was good, the trip?”

You took a pause, settling back onto the sofa. You wanted to be honest with her without rubbing it in her face that you’d ditched her to fly off to LA for the weekend. You settled for a happy medium. “It was fun--we uh, had a good conversation about us.”

“About the two of you?”

You nodded. Pulled a piece of hair over your shoulder to braid it mindlessly while you spoke. “Yeah--he said he isn’t seeing other people and I’m not either so he said it kind of just makes sense to label it.”

The corner of her mouth curved up. “Yeah? Did he propose while he was at it?”

“Oh sod off,” you shot back quickly, thankful that the banter had returned to it’s typical state.

“Sounds pretty serious,” she padded over to the kitchen, the bottom of her sweatpants dragged on the floor when she walked.

You watched her reach for a bottle of wine, she raided the utensils drawer for an opener. “It was a good amount of seriousness,” you concluded.

She twisted the screw in, placed the bottle under her arm but looked up at you with wide eyes before she yanked the cork out. “That’s all you’re going to divulge?”

You pulled your legs up to your chest. “S’all there really is. He only said the ‘g’ word once.”

“The ‘g’ word?” Her ‘r’ was sharp when the cork popped out. “‘Girlfriend?’”

“Yes ‘girlfriend.’”

She giggled to herself, pulling two glasses from the cabinet before pouring them. She brought them back over to the couch after wiping them off, handed one to you, and sat.

“How’s that feel?”

You bit at your lip. Thoughts about it all had swirled in your head the entire flight home--especially when he pressed a kiss to your lips in front of the driver.

“I mean, we’ll see. I kind of addressed the whole distance thing over breakfast today and he said we can make it work. FaceTime and texting and trips out to see each other.”

“Phone sex,” she twisted a palm to the sky, her face serious before bursting into laughter.

“Alright--you’re unbelievable.”

“I’m kidding!” She pleaded, an eye roll in your direction when you reached for your phone on the table.

“I should probably tweet something about the interview anyway. There was a fair amount of photographers who saw us at the airport.”

You fell into a comfortable silence, thumb stretching along the screen to catch up with whatever had happened on Twitter over the last few hours. Alyssa hummed mindlessly and sipped at her wine, you almost scrolled right past it.

She was in a tan coat--one that dipped below her knees--a scarf that was green and gold. His arm was extended around her waist, the photo was hidden inside another tweet. You tapped your thumb to expand it, lips parting when your stomach sank.

Her lips were on his. His were on hers. Another photo--in a series of four--that showed their entire farewell embrace, outside of Harry’s apartment.

Nina Winters was a model--you knew her name and you knew her face, but that was about it. Long black hair that skimmed her dainty shoulders.

“He’s kissing Nina Winters,” you whispered, voice barely audible over the car that passed by your building on the street below.

“Hmm?” Alyssa looked up, her lips pursed together as she waited for you to repeat yourself.

You turned the phone around, shoving it in her direction without words--you didn’t want to speak them out loud again.

“Whoa--what the fuck is that?” She leaned forward and took it in her hands. “When is this from?”

You could see her scroll down, her fingers pinched the screen to close the photo out. “It’s from December,” she answered her own question. “The eighteenth. S’not now, at least, right? I mean,” she looked up at you again, face hesitant.

“No, s’not better! That was before he kissed me but it was when we were going home for Christmas and it was--I dunno, I thought there was already something there at that point.”

“Okay--so, we don’t know when they stopped seeing each other,” she said, her voice steady as she relocated to the cushion beside you. “Maybe that was the last time they spoke.”

She exited out of the Twitter app, her thumb pulling up a Google search. You watched her type it in. Harry Styles Nina Winters.

“Three million results?!” You pulled her hands toward you, eyes desperate for a closer look. “Great, fucking shit!”

You didn’t know if it was anger or sadness that swirled between your lungs. Both, maybe, with a bit of jealousy mixed in.

She selected a new photo--this time they were heading out of a restaurant, more space between them, a jacket over her shoulders in the cold New York night. “January,” she said, her voice more quiet than before. “This one is January 9th.”

You took it from her hands, a throbbing in your head as you looked over the picture. You knew the coat he was wearing, knew where it hung in his flat. “So--after we came back. After he kissed me and fed me all the rubbish about having feelings for me since 2010 or whatever the fuck he said.”

“What are you gonna do?”

You looked around the room, the swipe card to his flat catching your eye. It hung beside Alyssa’s keys near the door, you’d left it here while you were in LA.

“M’gonna go tell him to fuck off.”

Her eyes went a bit wide at that, she watched you push yourself off the couch as you scrambled for boots and a coat. “Are you sure? Do you want to like--wait a day or something?”

“No--I don’t owe him anything.”

“I’m not saying you do!” She corrected herself quickly, voice frantic as she stood from the couch.

“I’ll be back,” you grabbed the ring of keys from the hook, offering a sadistic smile over your shoulder. You shut the door, headed for the cold streets, and that’s when the tears hit.

You counted the blocks as you went--filling your mind with the arbitrary numbers kept you from trying to retrace every step. He’d fallen off the grid when you’d gotten home--didn’t text for a few days. His communication was shit when he was in California the week before last.

The time in his flat when you asked him about things he said to all the other girls.

But everything this weekend seemed perfect--a mere eight hours you ago you were floating on cloud nine as fifteen-year-old dreams had finally come true.

You didn’t even wave to the man at the front desk--Mark, you’d learned, was his name--before you hit the button and swiped the card Harry had given you two weeks back. Your heart worked harder than the lyft, thumping in your ears before the doors split open, pouring you into the living room, tear stained cheeks as a greeting.

He wasn’t anywhere to be seen. The living room was empty--a blanket on the couch, a suitcase in the middle of the floor, half unpacked.

Humming drifted down the hall, when he rounded the corner, surprise crossed his face and he stopped in his tracks.

“Wh--what’s wrong? Are you okay?”

You didn’t know how to say it. There was no sweet way to soften the blow or sugarcoat it. He’d never bothered to do the same, so at this point, you figured you didn’t need to offer kindness.

“I know about Nina.”

His face was straight, his body still. He blinked twice and a noise escaped his lips, but it didn’t form a word. Instead, his eyes locked on yours and a wave of anger spewed out a more coherent thought.

“I know you were making out with her inside of some restaurant in Chelsea right before you paid for my ticket home for Christmas.”

A pause--trying to collect his thoughts. You imagined his heart beat climbing, rising in to his chest and trying to settle in his lungs when he cleared his throat.

“Y/N it wasn’t like that,” his words were hollow--deflated and desperate when he took two steps closer.

“Fuck you,” you said quickly, the emotion bubbling in your chest. “I don’t care what it wasn’t. I doubt the pictures were doctored--were they? Is that was you expect me to believe?”

“No--I just--it was stupid and--”

“Shut up!” You screamed, more tears spilling onto your cheeks as your clenched hands shook by your side. There was a rage inside of you--one that wanted to break things or punch walls or type furious messages to this girl who had a hold on his heart before you did.

He didn’t say anything--he watched you carefully and seemed to be waiting for you to offer something more, as if you hadn’t given enough. Your boots were glued to the floor beneath you, the rubber soles that had carried you on slushy sidewalks to his flat had grown roots and planted themselves in the center of his living room.

He watched as you caught your breath, you counted in threes like your mother used to when you were a child. One, two, three. One, two, three.

“Smalls--I ended things with her--”

“Before or after you kissed me?”

“Well, after--”

“Did you see her after we came back from Christmas? After we slept together?”

A sigh--an answer in and of itself, one that didn’t need letters or vowels.

“Great--great, Harry! This is why I tried to stop all of this,” you motioned around his flat as if the couch held the memories of late night movies or the miso soup he’d spilled all over the carpet. “Because why would this ever work for us, Harry? We had plenty of time back then!”

He brushed over your admissions, voice louder when he rubbed at the back of his neck. “You don’t even know what happened, Y/N! You don’t even know what I said to her or why I saw her.”

“What I do know is that there is plenty of proof that there was something going on between the two of you while there was something going on between us.”

“I met her in August--we went on a few dates, I barely know her!”

“You snogged her in December!” The words flew out of your mouth and landed before his feet. He looked down, watching them puddle on the floor in front of him.

“If you don’t want to hear what I have to say, then why did you come here?”

The churning of a washing machine hummed in the distance, the suddenly mundane noises of kitchen appliances seemed suffocating.

“To tell you it’s over--whatever this was. This was stupid, it was all stupid!”

His lips parted, another squeak that didn’t amount to a word, one that floated over to you and hovered overhead.

“I’ll see you around,” you told him, wiping the tears on your cheeks and the snot from your nose. He didn’t try to stop you.

read the other parts here

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AN: don’t hate me....but you know where to send the hate mail ^^

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stillyourprussianblue · 3 years

Text

libations and burnt offerings;

under the moon, long shadows are cast Part III of III

Author: feuillemort [AO3] / stillyourprussianblue [tumblr]

Rating: T

Pairing: 5986 (Gokudera/Haru), 1896 (Hibari/Chrome), DS (Dino/Squalo), 10088 (Byakuran/Bianchi), 8027 (Yamamoto/Tsuna), Lampin (Lambo/I-Pin)

Event: KHRWeen2020

Prompts: Graveyard | Costumes

A broken fourth wall and ramen deliveries on the spookiest night of the year.

[AO3] [image] [Part I] [Part II] [Part III]

“So he’s supposed to be loosely based on a kappa, but throwing a komodo dragon in there with an idol is so wrong!”

“Well at least the animal handler is on standby so Chrome-chan is safe,” Haru responded. “Same with her security team,” she added, eyeing the idol’s bodyguards lining the edges of the set.

Gokudera scoffed. “That airhead’s no use,” he grumbled. “He’s probably playing with the dogs again.”

He kept his back to the rows of grave markers that Haru gazed out over. He’d turned away from the set uncomfortably as his half-sister had thrown off her robes for the scene, Haru keeping watch to let him know when it was safe for his eyes to resume his post. “I meant that’s a sorry excuse for a kappa, even if they use CGI on it later. And those dogs are way too friendly to pass as werewolves.”

“You want them to release aggressive dogs onto set with this celebrity cast?” Haru gave him a look. “There’s a pop idol, a famous youtuber, and supermodels out there and you want to use dogs that are less friendly?”

He returned the look. “No, I’m saying that their cryptids are unrealistic! I’m a fan of the director’s work but no professional would half-ass their research like this!”

“I heard that it’s based on a dream his godson had,” Haru said, frowning slightly as she saw Tsuna chatting with Yamamoto, a leashed cat held in his arms. They shared a laugh over something they were too far away to hear. Sure enough, a bunch of dogs stuck close to his side, tails wagging.

Chrome’s bodyguard stood up from his relaxed perch on a spare tombstone just off the set and moved quickly through the fake cemetery, ducking under boom mics and low hanging branches. The sudden movement caught Haru’s attention.

“Hey!”

“What do you want? Gokudera growled as the back of Haru’s arm smacked into his side. He turned to her furiously, but saw that she was already running out into the graveyard. It only took him a moment longer to process what was happening as more thundering explosions rocked the movie set and he ran to catch up to the costume designer.

“Shit! Oi! Stay off the set, it’s dangerous, you idiot!”

___

Chrome stared up at the dark haired man that was the head of her security detail as he casually tossed aside the explosive he’d snatched in midflight as it had rocketed towards her. It blew up somewhere behind him but all it did was silhouette him for a moment, ruffling his hair and untucking the hem of his shirt. Hibari’s eyes remained locked with hers as she stared up in awe at the cold steel of his gaze that cut through the mayhem and promised murder to anything that dared to cause her harm.

All around them, fire crews were rushing to the scene to put out the minor disaster that was threatening to take over the set. Chrome pushed herself to her feet in the shallow grave.

“Cut! Cut! Cut!” Reborn’s voice boomed through the megaphone.

There was a sharp whistle and the dog actor that had accompanied her into the hole they dug was bounding away. Yamamoto whistled again. “Hey, hellhounds! Come back!”

The rest of the runaway pack was slobbering over a laughing man on the ground. She could only make out blond hair and flailing limbs before he was completely overrun with dogs.

Hibari turned to leave, but paused when Chrome called out. “Wait.”

He glanced over his shoulder to see her looking down at the huge lizard, knowing what she intended to do.

“He can’t get out,” she said, kneeling down beside the Komodo dragon, at least twice her size. She put her whole weight behind it, but couldn’t heave it out of the hole like she wanted to. She was well suited to the role she played despite what critics were saying –he knew she had the heart of a warrior inside such a small body.

The disgruntled lizard turned towards her and his eyes narrowed as its venomous maw reached for her exposed leg.

Before Hibari could jump into the pit and likely incite the wrath of dozens of animal welfare groups the world over, Yamamoto leapt in to wrangle the lizard back into what looked like an elaborate harness, a pack of dogs at his heels.

“Now, now, be good,” he chastised the lizard as he wrestled it into a harness.

Chrome climbed out of the hole to join Hibari, taking in the scene of destruction around them and the loose perimeter of security around the set. If this had happened years ago, the paparazzi would have been waiting to greet her with their dizzying flashes and intrusive lines of questioning. Now the only one waiting for her was her personal bodyguard, his presence enough of a warning for them all to stay back and give her the space she needed.

Hibari gave her a quick once-over.

“I’m okay,” she answered.

Satisfied, he turned away and she followed.

She was joined by Fran who seemed to materialize beside her, but because she didn’t react in alarm, Hibari did nothing. Over the months of filming, Fran had taken a shine to his co-star despite not knowing the idol prior to meeting on set, and Hibari had grown to accept that he would follow Chrome around though neither of them acknowledged the others’ existence.

“You have to stop breaking the fourth wall when we’re filming,” Chrome chastised lightly, referencing their takes from earlier in the day.

But Fran was staring off into space. “Huh?”

“You can’t just start listing off everything you see when you forget your lines,” she continued as they walked side by side.

“Oh, I’m narrating,” Fran replied airily.

“The film already has a narrator,” Chrome replied, looking ahead at Hibari’s retreating back.

“That creepy prophecy girl,” Fran said.

“Oh... mmhm,” she agreed softly.

“I mean she’s here.”

Chrome looked over with an owlish gaze. Hibari stopped a ways away but cast a watchful glance over his shoulder when he sensed her hesitation. He regarded the newcomer curiously.

Yuni approached with a bright smile. “Chrome-chan! Could I get your autograph?”

After a pause, the popstar nodded and accepted the poster and pen that Yuni held to her.

“What do you do after filming?” Yuni asked, hands clasped in front of her, leaning in with inquisitive politesse as Chrome signed the poster.

“Go back to my trailer and review my lines for tomorrow,” Chrome responded, handing the items back.

“I always knew you were dedicated!” Yuni smiled, holding the poster as if it were a treasure.

“We never do anything fun,” Fran complained.

“Can I join you?” Yuni asked. “We can order dinner and go over our lines together! It’ll be fun!”

Fran looked over at Chrome, thinking she would decline, tilting his head curiously when she nodded. “Ohh?”

Yuni fell into step beside them. “Chrome-chan, don’t you ever get lonely when you’re touring?” Yuni asked.

“Ah! Well...” She averted her eye, looking at Hibari’s retreating back. He had gotten bored and decided to go on ahead by himself. “No,” she replied, “not lonely.”

___

“He’s going to tear you apart later,” Haru said as Gokudera ran past them, shooting a glare at Yamamoto. She had collected Bianchi’s robe from the centre of the set and was holding it tightly to her chest until she could more carefully examine it at her workdesk.

Pushing the lizard into its cage, Yamamoto laughed sheepishly. “You think so?”

“Especially when he finds out you weren’t paying attention.”

Yamamoto laughed again. “What do you mean?” But his laugh had given him away and Haru raised an eyebrow at him.

But before she could say anything about how he had been chatting up the director’s godson who had come to visit him, he went on the offensive, his smile charmingly disarming. The pack of dogs milled about around his legs, bumping him this way and that, and he reached down to ruffle their fluffy heads as their tongues lolled out. “You’ve been spending too much time together if you’re making that face!”

Haru’s cheeks coloured immediately but she couldn’t hide the brief scowl that had preceded it. “I don’t know what you mean,” she said.

He didn’t spare her. “You know, Gokudera!” he replied, leaving her fuming as he ran off, followed by chorus of happily barking mutts. “Put in a good word for me, thanks!”

___

“Luckily Hibari-san saved most of Chrome-chan’s outfit,” Haru said, letting the light material of Chrome’s dress flow between her fingers as she inspected the fabric.

“You mean luckily she’s unhurt right?” Gokudera corrected with a raised eyebrow.

Haru plowed on as if she hadn’t heard him, pretending she wasn’t very aware of the way his eyebrow arched after Yamamoto had pointed out the habit she had picked up. “But Bianchi’s dress is completely ruined! That was our last set for the take before we went onto the scene where she destroys the dress in the lake with the selkies!”

He looked over at the scraps of white material that Haru held onto. It didn’t look like there was much left of the robe; she would have to make another one from scratch. “Yeah well just make another one or something.” He wondered if she would be able to find a replacement in time.

Her head whipped around and she finally fixed her attention on him. If only she wasn’t glaring daggers. “Excuse me! I can’t just make another one like you replace your fireworks.”

He glowered right back. “They’re not fireworks, they’re pyrotechnics. You know this; I’ve explained it to you a million times.”

“And I’ve explained it to you ten million times –these costumes take time!” Haru huffed and laid the pieces of fabric down on the table between them. He could still see the pieces of golden thread wound through the white material, frayed where his devices had torn through them, scorched like the earth on the set that was still smouldering.

She didn’t say anything else, turning her attention back to the work that needed to be done, only noticing that he had walked out after he was gone. He came and went, and she continued with her spot checks on Chrome’s skirt, only giving him a cursory glance when he entered and exited, collecting more objects each time until the table between them filled with flammable compounds all labelled in Gokudera’s neat script, various accelerants, and an assortment of casings and ignitors.

But she paused to look up from her sewing machine when his last trip had him kicking the door shut behind him. He wouldn’t meet her eyes as he deposited in front of her a few bolts of white fabric and golden thread.

“They all look the same,” he grumbled. “I brought them all so you won’t lecture me on the difference between them again.”

“Thanks,” Haru said slowly, turning over the bolts in her hands; there wasn’t much left so she had no margin for error, but what he had brought her was enough. She could make it work.

She pulled a bottle of milk tea from her yellow-polka-dotted lunchbag sitting on the ground next to her, followed by a can that she had grabbed as an afterthought from the convenience store the other day. She placed them both on the table and slid the canned coffee over to him, avoiding the minefield spread out between them.

Gokudera took his seat across from her and accepted the drink, cracking it open with one hand while he swept his hair back out of his face with the other. “Thanks,” he said quietly but she had already turned her attention back to her work. He took a drink of the coffee – she had managed to keep it cold in her insulated lunchbag for him.

The first time they had had to put in overtime like this, there had been a large accident and all spaces on set were being used by the production team and crew members and the two of them had ended up crammed into an abandoned cast member’s room that was purported to be haunted.

She had been anxious to share a crammed workspace with him at first, worried about the potential of something going wrong or of an accidental misfire. But then she had seen how precise his movements were, how carefully he measured out each component and assembled the explosives. His hands were steady as he wired each device, each component meticulously labelled and accounted for.

This night was no different. Gokudera worked in silence, headphones on, expression focused and serene, goggles secured, sitting crookedly on his chair. His usually prickly personality evened out his aura was almost peaceful as he ran his fingers over a length of magnesium ribbon thoughtfully. He reconsidered and picked up the firefly aluminum instead, pushing aside a container of iron oxide to make more space for it.

Haru always grew too engrossed in her work to notice how he observed her in return; the subtle way her brow furrowed as her eyes roved over her work to ensure perfection in each detail, whether it be correcting a crooked stitch or dyeing a slight discolouration in raw materials she received. Her fingers worked nimbly as she straightened out the large pins that kept her creation in place, each movement deliberate and careful as gold ran through her hands and became something more.

They looked up at each other when their stomachs growled, faces aglow from the flickering lights of the jack-o-lanterns that lined the edges of their shared workbench.

Haru smiled and did a quick back stitch to hold her place before she picked up her cellphone. “It’s going to be a long night. I’ll order us some ramen!”

___

“So you didn’t go on?” Dino asked.

“No we couldn’t shoot any of the selkie scenes because you started a fire on set,” Squalo replied as they walked down the dark street, unevenly lit by streetlights. He kicked an empty can down the road as they walked.

“Aww it was an accident! I thought I’d be able to catch you in your mermaid suit today,” Dino said, bending down to pick the can up when they reached it. “I didn’t think that there would be so many cute dogs on the set to play with.”

“It’s not a mermaid suit! It takes fucking forever to get the selkie makeup and prosthetics on in the morning. It’s heavy as shit.” He glowered. “I thought a supermodel would get it.”

Dino tossed the can up and down in his hand, chuckling softly. “Nothing super here, just a model,” he replied. “How’s Reborn treating you?”

“The man’s tough. I can see why you gave up on acting,” Squalo answered.

“Yeah he said I’ve got the charisma but couldn’t act to save my life. Then he shot at me!”

Squalo threw his head back, laughing uproariously. “Fucking kills me every time you tell that story. They say he’s unorthodox but they’ve got no fucking idea.”

The can slipped from Dino’s fingers and hit him in the head before bouncing over the pavement. He sighed before leaning over to pick it up, only to be yanked backwards by his friend. A motor scooter zipped by right where Dino had been standing moments earlier.

“Lambo, step on it!” a voice commanded as they flew past. “Halloween’s a busy night for delivery requests!”

“VOI!” Squalo took off after them, yelling obscenities. He scooped up the can that Dino had dropped and whipped it at their retreating backs. “Watch where you’re going!”

When he realized that Dino wasn’t following, he retraced his steps only to find him crouched on the sidewalk with two children at his side. The older one had red hair and was dressed as a storm trooper. The only reason that Squalo could tell that he had red hair was because his helmet lay on the ground. The younger child was clinging onto Dino’s back, yelling at a group of teenagers across the street.

“I’m the mighty Skull! You can’t talk to me like that!”

The trio of bullies laughed and jeered.

“Give us our candy back!” Skull yelled. “O-or you’ll pay the consequences! Enma! Show them!”

“Oh yeah?” they jeered. “What’s going to happen? Are you going to get your stormtrooper to shoot us?”

Enma turned red and looked down at his shoes.

“That’s enough!” Dino said sternly. “Give them their candy back.”

But Squalo had enough experience dealing with Dino’s bullies during their school days to know that wouldn’t work. So he loomed over behind them. “VOI! What are you shitheads doing?”

His sudden appearance and shouting startled them and they jumped in surprise, spinning around to face him. His smile was sinister as he cracked his knuckles.

“Squalo! You can’t hit kids!” Dino exclaimed, putting his hand over Skull’s eyes, or at least where he assumed his eyes to be under his visor.

“I don’t see any brats here,” Squalo said, smirking down at them. “I see a shitty vampire, a half-assed wizard, and a... what the hell are you supposed to be?”

The teen responded indignantly through the furry mask covering his face. “A werewolf!”

Squalo squinted. “And crackhead bigfoot here.”

He unsheathed the sword he had at his side that Dino had told him not to take off the set.

“Oh shit he’s insane!”

“Yo let’s dip!”

The teens turned to run, and Squalo followed in pursuit.

Dino sighed and turned his attention to the two kids that stayed with him. Enma watched in silent dismay as Squalo chased down the bullies, catching them by the end of the block.

“What are you dressed as?” Dino asked.

“I’m Skull! The World’s Greatest Hitman!” he answered as if that didn’t leave Dino with more questions than he had started with. “And this is my brother Enma!”

Dino picked up Enma’s stormtrooper helmet and brushed off the scuffs and leaves as best as he could before giving it back to him. He thanked Dino so quietly that he thought the child had mouthed the words.

Squalo returned to their side, sheathing the prop sword and shoving the pillowcases full of candy at Enma. He stuttered a surprised thank you, gathering the superman and Mickey Mouse pillowcases into his arms, grimacing a little as some candy spilled out.

Dino scooped them into his hand and pressed a lollipop into Skull’s fingers before straightening up and putting the rest of the candy back into the pillowcases that Enma held tightly.

“Hey, I know a place that hands out jumbo-sized candy bars,” Dino said.

“Really!?” Skull’s face was obscured by the oversized biker helmet that he wore, but Dino could tell his eyes had widened by the way his voice jumped an octave.

“Haha yeah!�� Dino assured. “It’s where we’re headed now if you want to come along?”

“Hey! Didn’t anyone ever teach you not to follow strange men that offer you candy?” Squalo shouted.

Enma looked between apprehensively but nodded. “Stay close,” he murmured, holding his hand out to Skull who ignored it and ran ahead.

“I’ll lead the way!”

“You don’t know where you’re going!” Enma ran after him across the street.

“Look both ways!” Dino called, starting after them, but tripped halfway through the crosswalk.

Squalo caught his arm and righted him gruffly. “Watch it.”

“Thanks Squalo!” Dino grinned.

“Yeah, yeah.” Squalo waved him off. “There’s idiots out here on their shitty vespas; if you got killed by one it’d be pathetic as fuck.”

___

“Thank you!” Yuni called from within the trailer.

“Ah, yeah, thanks,” Fran mumbled, already digging into their order.

Chrome thanked I-Pin as she stepped away from the door.

“That extra order won’t last until a midnight snack,” I-Pin warned.

“There’s no extra order,” Chrome replied, a little confusion bleeding into her tone.

“There were four orders,” I-Pin said, quickly checking the order ticket on her phone. “But three people.”

Chrome placed the fourth order of ramen on at the top of the stairs and looked up. “It’s not an extra.” I-Pin followed her gaze up to the moon. Seeing nothing, she shrugged and wished her a good night before bounding down the stairs to return to where Lambo sat waiting on the vespa.

“Ready?” she asked, putting her helmet on.

“W-w-what’s that?!”

I-Pin looked back at Lambo’s whimper to see him pointing up above the moonlit trailer with a trembling finger.

A silhouetted figure sat on top of the trailer, reclined comfortably with one leg bent in perfect repose. The moon was too bright to see the features of the figure’s face but she could tell they were being watched with lazy predation.

“I-Pin, let’s go!”

The waver in his voice made her trailer and hop on the back of the vespa again, knowing he wouldn’t drive off without her, but that he would cry if they stayed any longer with the spooky atmosphere.

Sitting in reverse with her back against Lambo’s, holding the rest of their deliveries close to her chest, she kept her eyes on the spirit that watched over Chrome until the trees grew so tall they obscured the moon, folding themselves over between them until she could no longer see the trailer or Chrome’s protector as they sped away through the night.

Only when Chrome went back inside did Hibari leap down gracefully to eat the dinner she had left for him.

___

She heard his approach but did not acknowledge it. Byakuran stayed in the entryway of the greenhouse, just watching her care for the toadflax that was a stand-in for the fantasy silk sage. He thought it ironic that she dedicated her attention to a plant that symbolized the desire for the recipient to notice of the giver’s love.

“You noticed the plants were dry when we were filming?”

Bianchi lowered the watering can from the silk sage plant and set it down beside the pot.

“You did too,” she replied. “And you almost broke character.”

“Not all of us perfectly embody our personas,” he said a little plaintively.

She registered his petulant pout and exaggerated expression and thought he fit the bill of a self-indulgent demon rather well.

“Oh?” She raised an eyebrow.

“Oh,” he repeated a little more softly.

They lapsed into silence as she ran her fingers over the soft leaves that the fictional plant was named for.

She looked up when he approached, painfully aware of his proximity like they had been over the last months of filming together, in a weighted and measured dance with the other, like the gravity of stars drawn together, or the certainty of waves to the shore.

He held up a cluster of flowers to her that looked to be what they used in place of the blood blossoms on set, except the rich colour was much more pigmented and there was an enigmatic scent emanating from them. “What do you think?”

She leaned towards the flowers he offered, holding a strand of hair away from her face; her eyes closed slowly and she inhaled deeply.

“An amaranth.” Bianchi pulled back slightly, the strand of hair slipping over her shoulder to trace lightly over his forearm. She looked up through her thick lashes at him, eyes lidded and lips parted in a small smile. “Decadent.”

He smiled back, pulling away entirely, that strand of her hair trailing down his arm. He let it slip through his fingers. “An amaranth,” he agreed. “For immortality.”

“Immortality?” she repeated breathily, stepping over to close the distance he had created between them.

Byakuran took another step back with a teasing laugh. “For an undying love.”

He seemed to float out of her reach even without the animatronic wings and the wires he wore during filming, but she kept pace with him, used to his movements from the time they spent on set together, with him as her shadow. They were very familiar with each others’ bodies.

“Now why would you give me such a flower?” she asked, her voice low.

He pulled the flower close to his chest before lifting it to his nose to breathe in its scent. “I didn’t give you anything!”

She continued her approach until he found himself with his back against the wall, the moonlight slanting through the glass panels of the ceiling.

“Maybe I’ll take it,” she murmured, plucking it from his fingers and placing it in his breast pocket.

“Should I keep calling you by pet names?”

“Well, it’s gauche to ask a witch for her true name.” He played along; it was hard not to recognize her as the face of the perfume industry, from magazine covers and red carpet events.

“You may continue to call me Byakuran; after all, you named me, witch.”

She played along too; she knew him from his youtube channel, avidly watching his every dessert mukbang video, every unboxing, and every sweet shop review.

“Is that right, demon?” She purred against his lips. He could feel the warmth emanating from her as her body pinned his to the wall, dizzy from that citrus scent wafting from her skin.

“Hurry! The noodles are getting soggy!”

Byakuran pulled the woman further into the shadows, whispering a quiet shhh in her ear, and Bianchi pressed closer still as two people rushed through the greenhouse, one in a red uniform and the other in a cowprint shirt. They darted through the set without so much as a glance around them and then they were gone out the other end.

“Okay, okay, there’s a shortcut through here... Geez, It’s not like Haru will let Gokudera kill us if we’re late again.”

“I’ll kill you if we’re late again!”

Bianchi didn’t even so much as glance over at them, taking the opportunity to pin him against the wall with her gaze. He watched their exit over her shoulder with a dispassionate smile. She wanted to make him feel something.

Wearing her shroud of night, she pulled him under, but the angel wasn’t as unmoved as he seemed. She leaned in to test the waters, just simmering below the surface, and he closed the distance himself to have a taste.

___

“Take care!” Tsuna waved to Enma and Skull as Yamamoto put the bowl of candy down on the side table. The green paint on Yamamoto’s neck and face was starting to rub off on the collar of his shirt, and Tsuna tried not to worry about the staining it would cause in the laundry.

Leave it to his boyfriend to use stage makeup taken from the film set to turn himself into a classic zombie.

Dino hovered just behind them, staring out down the path after them. “You think they’ll be okay?” he asked.

Tsuna shut the front door as Squalo laughed, having already made himself comfortable on the couch, feet up on the coffee table. “Go trick-or-treating with them if you’re that worried,” he called.

Yamamoto put a jumbo chocolate bar in Dino’s hands before leading him over to take a seat beside Squalo. “They’ll be fine!” His flippant tone was somehow reassuring and Dino allowed Yamamoto to take his coat. “They’ve got enough candy in their pillowcases to use them like clubs now!”

“I don’t know if that’s a good thing,” Tsuna said, making a face.

An orange tabby cat immediately jumped onto Dino’s lap.

“Even the cat loves you,” Squalo remarked as Natsu settled in and curled up on him, purring up a storm. “Just like the dogs today,” he finished, inclining his head towards Yamamoto who only smiled up at Tsuna, perched on the armrest.

Remembering the hours it had taken to get the prosthetics on only for it to have been wasted and then taken off, Squalo frowned at Yamamoto’s feigned innocence and Tsuna’s flustered guilt.

“Dino and I wanted to visit everyone,” Tsuna began.

“We wanted to get a sneak peek,” Dino said. “Especially since Reborn was making a movie based on Tsuna’s dream!”

“And you got distracted!” Squalo reprimanded, not letting Yamamoto off the hook even though he just laughed it off.

“Tsuna told me I forgot to buy the Halloween candy!” Yamamoto recounted. “But he forgot to prepare dinner for us, so we’re even!”

The doorbell rang again and Tsuna turned away from Dino and Squalo lounging on the couch to answer it, but Yamamoto beat him to it, jogging over with firm hand on Tsuna’s shoulder to tell him to stay put and enjoy his chat, and a quick kiss pressed to his cheek in passing to casually remind him he was adored.

“You said there would be dinner!” Squalo shouted after him.

“Yes, yes,” he called back as he scooped up the bowl of candy and answered the door.

On the other side of the doorframe, Lambo jumped in surprise as a zombie opened the door.

“Delivery!” I-Pin said brightly.

“Oh! I-Pin! Lambo!” he greeted. “That was fast!”

I-Pin rolled her eyes. “You don’t have to be nice, Yamamoto-san. Lambo took his time today. I would’ve driven like you taught me.”

Yamamoto laughed as she handed over his order of ramen. He held the bowl of candy out to I-Pin and she selected a few lollipops for Lambo.

“Yeah, but Lambo,” Yamamoto asked. “I thought you had a Halloween party to go to tonight?” He hesitated when Lambo flapped his hands and began waving his arms, giving him a panicked look.

I-Pin looked between the two of them confusedly.

“Ahh!” Yamamoto smiled knowingly. “I know! You’re helping her out on the scariest night of the year instead of going to the party!”

“VOI!”

Lambo and I-Pin jumped at the voice of the man that had pursued them doggedly earlier in the night. Squalo stalked over to the door to confirm that they were also the one and the same.

“It’s you on that shitty vespa!” Squalo growled.

“Um, trick or treat?” Lambo squeaked, backing away.

I-Pin was one step ahead of him, running back to the motor scooter. “Lambo, let’s go!”

He stumbled away from the door, jumping onto the back of the scooter and grabbing onto the seat for dear life as she took off without warning.

“I-Pin, slow down!” Lambo screamed.

“We gotta’ get to your party!” she called back.

He held his helmet to his head as the chinstrap flapped in the wind, staring at her back. “Don’t we have more deliveries to do?”

“I’ve only got one more for the night,” she replied, “and it’s me getting you to your Halloween party!”

“Oh no you don’t!”

Lambo shrieked as he saw that Squalo and his fury were gaining ground on them. He spun around in the seat, throwing his arms around her waist. “I-Pin, speed up!”

“That, I can do! Hold on tight!” she called back as they raced off into the night, or at least as quickly as the scooter would allow. Lambo held her tightly and hoped that they would arrive unscathed; but also that maybe when they did, she would accept his invitation to join him.

___

The sky was a bright grey, with golden rays filtering through. The full moon had cast long shadows in the night and it would soon pass the torch to the sun’s radiance. Daybreak was eminent over the graveyard, and the night was almost over, but not just yet.

Haru stretched and yawned, uncurling from the position she had held over her sewing machine through the night. She laid out Chrome’s repaired garments and the new robe that she had worked ceaselessly on for Bianchi. After the work was done, she was left with about a yard of material – too small to do anything with besides being used as scrap. She shook it out to remove loose threads and then folded it neatly at her side.

Gokudera had put his head down to rest hours earlier. Haru had noticed when he did not get back up. His back was rising and falling evenly with each breath, his goggles discarded beside his sleeping face. Crates of neatly stacked sticks of dynamite sat around him, carefully prepared and ready to be set off at a moment’s notice.

She stood to clear the empty takeout boxes overturned on the table between them, the disposable chopsticks unbalancing the empty Styrofoam containers. She hoped he liked the ramen she had ordered more than the instant noodles he would have made for them with the electric kettle he had kicked into the corner a few days back; she knew he would not have easily allowed himself the luxury of ordering food if he could find a quicker alternative on his own.

But then again, he was unused to someone else caring for his needs.

Smiling, Haru fluffed out the scrap of fabric again; it wasn’t large enough to be useful in any other way, but it would serve well enough to keep him warm. She settled the small white sheet over his shoulders and reached down to touch his cheek, but paused with her fingers hovering just over his face. Reconsidering, she picked up his can of coffee, swished it around, and finished it. He would wake soon and grumble about the makeshift blanket, but not just yet.

___

[AO3] [Part I] [Part II] [Part III]

#KHRween2020 #5986 #1896 #10088 #DS #8027 #Lampin #this is mega long and multiship haha why #Happy Halloween :)#feuillemort #prince supersharky #stillyourprussianblue #khr #khr enma #khr skull #these cutie patootie foster brothers make an appearance too #under the moon long shadows are cast

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boymeetsweevil · 5 years

Text

Breathe you in

Grouping: Popstar!Reader x Non-Idol!Taehyung

Word Count: ~7.8k

Warnings/Themes: Shotgunning (so thats recreational drug use), Rough face fucking, face-sitting (fm receiving), some background angst, not too scary lol

Summary: Can I pls request an ex lovers trope with taehyung where you broke up with him , but he shows you he loves you and was never over you and wants to be together again? Thanks!

A/N: This is part of the BTS Smut Club Anniversary fic exchange! Thanks for the prompt!

It’s nearing 10pm when the town car arrives in front of your apartment complex. The driver pulls up in the back entrance used primarily for allowing the higher profile residents to discreetly enter the building when needed. Normally the back entrance is littered with snapping cameras or fans who are trying their hand at stalking. Tonight none of those people are there for you because your mini-tour ended a day early, allowing you to return from Amsterdam a day before what’s scheduled on your website.

“Don’t forget,” your publicist sits across from you on the opposite leather upholstered bench of the car, “You’re close to reaching another follower milestone, so you need to do one last Instagram live before bed.” You release a deep sigh that sounds like it came from your bones.

“Shit. Bee, I’m really tired.”

“Language,” Bee admonishes while scrolling one iPhone in one hand before switching to the one in her other hand.

“Can’t it fucking wait,” you hiss, petty from exhaustion.

She pins you with a look that tells you she’s not playing this game with you and continues typing away. “You’ll sleep soon enough once we go through the checklist for today and tomorrow.”

Bee’s phone pings and you watch the set of her mouth grow infinitely more tense before her eyes dart to you. Rarely does hesitation temper her gaze like it does in this moment. You let out a sigh. She’s about to mention your ex.

“Also, Oh! News wants to bring you in some time this week to address statements Nick made about the breakup.”

“Of course they do,” you sigh again.

“I’ve been trying to push the date back but they’re not taking no for an answer. Plus, it might be better to go out and put an end to it so it can become old news.”

You massage your temples. “Yeah, no, I’ll do it. I’ll do it.”

Bee watches the gears in your head turn as you think about the whirlwind that was the breakup. With your departure to Europe only a few days after the PG-13 video of him with another actress blew up, there was naturally a lot of speculation. Most of it hateful and directed at you, surprisingly enough. Having just starred in a movie aimed at 12-17 year olds, Nick seemingly had all of the world’s young girl population locked and loaded at you. Your relative silence while on tour for two months in the Netherlands only fueled the outrage.

“Alright, alright,” she opens the door on your side and pushes your purse into your limp arms. “I had them take your luggage up before you. Do what I told you and then...go get some sleep, Sweets.”

“Thanks, Bee.”

Your penthouse apartment is as pristine as you left it when you push open the door, your luggage waiting neatly by your shoe closet. While you unpack your bags in your bedroom, you take note of the outfit laid out for your on your bed. It’s a pair of leggings that have sequins sewn up the sides and a matching off the shoulder top that will definitely require you to keep your bra on. It’s for the Instagram broadcast, so you won’t have to wear it long. But you want to crawl out of your skin and finally be able to turn off your public figure voice more than anything else. You suppose you can handle waiting a little while longer, though.

When you’re dressed and have your hair out of your face, you take your phone with you to the bathroom before waking up your speaker to play some mood music. A little tripod setup waits for you on the sleek countertop. Once your phone is plugged in and you’ve pulled up Instagram, you begin your livestream and your camera smile is on.

“Hey, everybody,” you greet the viewers already watching.

There’s a little more than 800,000 people are currently watching, more than normal this early in a live video. You attribute it to the tweet Bee sent from your Twitter a few minutes prior that broke your 2 month long internet silence.

“I’m sorry I’ve been gone so long,” you talk a little louder over the music you have playing. “I was so busy in Amsterdam and when I did have some down time, I wanted to really unplug. So I didn’t use social media while I was there. I’ll definitely be uploading the pictures I took, though. I saw some really amazing stuff.”

You begin pumping an oil cleanser into the palms of your hands while stopping to read the comments as they come up on the screen. Some of them you ignore because they’re comments from Nick’s fan accounts. Others welcome you back and some are fans of the artist you were touring with.

“How was touring with Nana,” you echo the fan’s question while rubbing your makeup off. “She was so wonderful, oh my god. I think she’s got such a beautiful point of view when it comes to her lyrics about getting older and dealing with the pressures of being a woman in the spotlight. Also her fashion sense is incredible.”

A few more questions about the products you’re using and what you did on your off time come up. Some people ask if you’re working on a new album yourself and you talk about that as much as you can without breaking any promises, keeping the essentials a secret. Another person asks you to sing a few bars from your verse on the song you did with Nana and you do. By the time you’re tapping moisturizer onto your face, you’ve almost made it through the broadcast unscathed. But then you see a comment that has you breaking character for a second, your muscles freezing.

douknowbt$: OMG Nick is watching the live.

Hopefully no one notices your 2 seconds of panic, but you can’t be sure until someone else blogs about it. You dismiss the comment and finish up with a few pumps of hand cream, rubbing your hands a bit manically as the comments about Nick begin to grow in number. In that moment, you sign off and quickly move to end the live. But with your haste and slippery fingers, you don’t realize you missed the button and the recording was still going.

A few of the viewers try to send messages letting you know that the live hasn’t ended, but you don’t check your phone again after throwing it onto your covers and climbing into bed. With the camera facing up, you’re seen pulling up your laptop and putting on some classical music using the surround sound speakers in your bedroom. From the screen, all the viewers can see you sitting stiffly on your bed, eyes closed for a few minutes in what looks like meditation as the adagio that’s playing washed over you. After a few deep breaths, you open your eyes and reach for your phone.

“Oh sh—,” you keep yourself from cursing at the last second when you discover the livestream didn’t end. “I’m sorry, guys. I was so tired I guess I didn’t realize I forgot to end the video. I’m signing off for real now. Yes, yes, I’m okay. Just tired. I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

You triple check to make sure the video is off before throwing your phone across the bed. The day didn’t seem like it could get worse after your long flight and even longer wait at the airport when it seemed like your luggage was lost. Not to mention that you were bone tired and hungry but couldn’t have any of the foods you were craving because of a stupid photo shoot coming up in a few weeks. In that moment, the intercom rings, signaling that the front desk is trying to reach you, but you remain in bed and hope that it’ll stop. It does, for a moment, before starting up again. You groan before getting up and heading to the front door.

“Yes?”

“Hello Miss,” says the cheerful older man who runs the front desk during nights. “I trust you’re having a delightful evening.”

“Hello, Sir.”

“We just wanted to alert you that the delivery person with your order is currently on the 15th floor and should be at your suite shortly. Please anticipate your food’s arrival in the next few minutes and have a pleasant rest of the evening.” The call ends just like that, not leaving you any room to protest and say that you didn’t order food.

You figure it’s just that Bee saw what a huge shitshow your livestream was and she wants to send you something to make you feel better. And no doubt if it was something that came with a delivery person, it was good food. If she came herself, she would definitely have brought something like a salad bowl or a sushi plate. If you eat another vegetarian sushi plate, you're certain you'll die. Not from Mercury poisoning—like your mother always warns you about—but from sadness.

A tentative knock on the door sounds and you open it with a plasticky smile. Sometimes they send people who get a little star struck. Most times you’re amenable to just being subdued but friendly so that they just ask for a selfie or a quick autograph on a take out napkin and don't try to linger or say you were a bitch later on.

Tonight you're not really in the mood for too much friendliness tonight, though. In the drawer next to the door, you dig around for the wad of cash you keep hidden there and pull an obscene tip out.

“Hi, thank you,” you keep your head down and blindly reach for the white paper bag in the person's hand. “Have a good—excuse me, asshole!”

“That’s not my name.”

The hand yanks the bag out of your reach at the last second, lifting high above your head. You’re not at all in the mood for dealing with a pissy delivery boy who wants to knock you down a few pegs. Putting your hands on your hips, you’re about to give him the verbal lashing he deserves, PR consequences be damned, when you a good look at his face stops you.

“Taehyung?”

“In the flesh,” he shoots back at you.

The man in front of you gives you a muted, smug smile before shouldering his way past you and into your apartment. He stands tall in the foyer of your apartment like he belongs there and has been there a thousand times. You can’t help but drink in the image of your ex-boyfriend from half a decade ago despite the fact that he’s technically intruding. There’s still a whisper of the boy you started dating when you were in your last year of high school, but much of that is overpowered by the man he is now. He’s broader in the jaw and the shoulders than he was before, and there must have been some growth spurts since you last saw him.

“This is real nice,” he lets out a low whistle as he takes in the large open floor-plan of your apartment. You follow closely behind as he starts walking around, head cocked forward with purpose.

“What are you looking for?”

“The kitchen,” he says casually.

“It’s that way,” you gesture before realizing that you need to get your priorities straight. “What are you doing in my house?”

“I came to bring you food.”

The bag he raises gives off a pleasant savory smell and you clench your fist to keep yourself from excusing his sudden appearance.

“I didn’t ask for food. And I certainly didn’t ask you for food.”

“Touchy,” he turns back to pin you with an amused grin. “But you didn’t have to ask. I knew you needed it.”

“You knew I needed it?” You raise an incredulous eyebrow, eager to hear his explanation. “How did you know I needed it?”

He places the bag on the countertop in your kitchen, standing on the opposite side of the counter.

“Because,” he sighs, “I saw your Instagram live and you were playing Elgar. You never play Elgar unless something’s really wrong.”

“I—that’s,” he pushes the bag toward you while you try to come up with a reason while he’s wrong, when he’s not.

You’ve had a habit of playing classical music when you were near your breaking point. It’s been a habit that you’ve had since you were 10, but concealed long before you started your time in the spotlight. While you were dating Taehyung, you were a depressed teenager and he was present for some of the worst times of your life. Several times he’d found you in your room or your parents’ car blasting tragic symphonies as accompaniment for bawling your eyes out. But that was years ago.

“You can eat it. I’m not hungry,” you finally say. He looks at you like he can tell you’re lying, but plays along and shrugs.

“Fine.” He opens the bag and pulls out some smaller plastic containers of food and a spoon.

“I didn’t mean here!”

He chuckles at your outburst, mumbling something about fame not changing you, before ambling out of the kitchen and through the rooms until he arrives at your bedroom. You find him about to sit on your bed and rush over.

“If you took the subway here, don’t even think about sitting on that bed.”

“What? Suddenly my subway clothes are too dirty for your bed?”

“Yes,” you huff. “The sheets alone cost me more than half a grand.”

“What the hell,” he jumps up like he’s been shocked. “Why would you spend that much on sheets?”

“They’re highly rated,” you admit with a small voice. “And they’re used by many foreign diplomats.”

“That’s ridiculous. You’re so prissy.”

“We can’t all be members of a practical startup.” When his eyes widen in surprise, you curse yourself for letting him know you still keep tabs on him. “Besides. You used to like prissy.”

“Still do,” he gives you with a molten look that has you moving away from him and fluffing pillows to hide your flustered state.

“Why are you still here?”

“Because you’re hurting.”

“Maybe,” you throw your hands up. “But that’s not your job anymore.”

He runs a hand through his dark hair, parting the shiny waves carelessly. He’s not sure how to admit that he’s been making sure fame doesn’t eat you alive ever since you broke up with him to pursue your singing career. The memory of that day rings clear in his head even after five years of being split up.

Cliche as it sounds, it was a rainy night. You were at a meeting with Bee a few days before the entertainment label you were flirting with was going to give you the final version of your contract to sign.

Bee was never a huge fan of his, so Taehyung waited outside her office instead of interrupting the meeting to let you know he was there. But with the office door cracked, he could still hear the sounds of your conversation and the soft sounds of your sobs.

His blood grew cold when he heard what Bee was telling you. She told you starting this career with a relationship would hurt your numbers by making it impossible for your male fanbase to project their fantasies onto you because of the presence of another guy in your life. She told you if you were going to make it, you’d need to play up the role of sexy girlfriend to the audience members for the first album at least and that wouldn’t be possible if they got wind of Taehyung.

He covered his own mouth, barely fighting tears from welling up, listening as you tried to plead with Bee. Your voice was watery as you tried to convince her that you could make it without the girlfriend role. That you had enough work ethic and talent to do it. And when she didn’t budge, you said that you loved him and threatened to walk out right then if you had to break up with him. He listened to Bee tell you that you were being naive and that you’d be stupid to throw away all your opportunities for a boy.

And Bee was right.

So when you came outside minutes later with puffy eyes and a white knuckled grip on the sleeves of your sweater, he’d accepted his fate. He’d even accepted the lie you told him about having another guy on the side. Though you couldn’t produce a name when he asked who it was. Though you looked up at him like you wanted to take it all back. Though you leaned your forehead on his chest like you were in the greatest amount of pain. He accepted it all and walked away.

That is, if walking away meant that he created fake social media accounts so he could comment positive things on your first few interview videos and bought tickets to as many concerts he could when you were in the area. He never tried to make his presence known, just stood there and drank in how vibrant you looked when you were on stage and singing your heart out. It took a while for the jealousy to stop rearing its ugly head whenever he looked at how other people would show their adoration for you. By the time Nick came around, he was convinced he was content with how things were. But after seeing the way Nick’s cheating affected you, he had a hard time sitting still.

“Well, I’m not leaving until you feel better. So, you better start talking.”

“What is there to even say?”

“I don’t know. You tell me.”

You sigh and ignore him in favor of walking over to the large sofa in the corner of your room and collapsing on the large sofa face first. A dip in the cushions near you tells you he’s followed you and sat down. When you finally reveal your face, he’s peering down at you with a sad look in his eyes. The sad, sympathetic look that would always get you spilling your guts when you were still together. So you tell him everything.

It's almost embarrassing to tell him that you thought you loved Nick. At their best, things with Nick were comfortable and sometimes passionate, but it wasn’t anything close to love. Nothing close to what you had with Taehyung. And how could it have been when the reason you got together in the first place was because Bee thought you could ‘scratch each other’s backs’? Nick was not only handsome with the clean image Bee wanted for you, but you were writing and singing the theme song for the blockbuster movie he was to star in. It all seemed to work at first.

It only took one tabloid story suggesting that he was seeing some other younger and bustier actress behind your back to make you see that nothing you had with him was substantial. You brought the story up as a joke, thinking you could laugh about the way tabloids would do anything for story—even lie. As soon as you mentioned it to him, he denied it hastily and made a snide comment about not believing everything you see just because it’s technically press. After that, it was like a switch had been flipped and suddenly you couldn’t be in the same room together for more than 10 minutes without going at each other’s throats. The cheating rumors kept flaring up until they reached a peak a little more than 2 months ago, when someone anonymously submitted a video of him groping and kissing the same actress outside of a bakery in your hometown in broad daylight.

After watching the video about 15 times on the plane to Amsterdam, you concluded that even though he had long since established himself as a grade-A asshole in your mind, he was in mushy-love with this girl. You could tell from the sweet way he cradled her face while kissing her and how he took the extra step to block any potential cameras before giving her impressive rack a squeeze. Lucky for you, the video didn’t really evoke any messy emotions like jealousy. Instead there was just some satisfaction at having your suspicions confirmed and knowing he’d have to clean up this mess. You felt bad for the other actress, though. She was just starting out with mainly B movie roles and there was no telling whether the public would fillet her or ignore her altogether.

Taehyung has to sit on his hands to keep from rubbing your back you as you pour out all the things that had been stressing you out. What startles him is how stoic you are the whole time. When he first met you, you cried at the drop of a hat. It was endearing back then, but there’s no trace of it now. You sniffle a little when you talk about some of the vicious hate mail you received while in Amsterdam, but besides the shining eyes, that’s it. He clenches his jaw and wonders what you must have gone through in the last five years to have lost that quality.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles when the lull in the conversation is longer than he expected.

“It’s fine, I just,” you sniff again, wipe your eyes carefully. “I was really hoping that once the dating clause in my contract expired, things wouldn’t blow up in my face like this. And now I can’t go anywhere without people shoving mentions of Nick in my face. I just—it sucks. I just want to do what I want and I thought I’d earned that right but I guess not.”

“I don’t know. I think you’ve earned it. You’re grammy nominated this year, and you visited 13 countries this year alone.”

“What are you? President of my fan club?”

“Do I look like a 14 year old girl to you?”

You squint like you’re giving it some thought and he squawks.

“I’m just kidding,” you duck your head. “You’re, what, 226?” He laughs at the extra two centuries you’ve tacked on.

“You remember my birthday,” he smiles widely.

“Of course I do.” The way he looks at you makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up so you change the subject. “Alright. I’ve done enough talking. Where’s my compensation?”

“You literally haven’t changed at all,” he says while fishing in the pockets of his dark wash denim jacket. It takes a few seconds and he has to pull a few balled up receipts and earphones out of the pockets but he eventually pulls out a fat blunt and brandishes it like a huge check.

Nose wrinkling, you push his hand out of your face. “Weed?”

“Yeah! You said you wanted a pick-me-up, right? And I just got this yesterday from a dispensary. This is the good, strong shit. Probably could compete with the stuff they have in Amsterdam.”

“Well, I wouldn’t be able to tell.”

“Huh,” he furrows his brow while hunting for a lighter.

“I’ve never smoked so I wouldn’t know.”

“You mean you were in Amsterdam and you didn’t even try to smoke?”

“It’s bad for my voice,” you whine at his judgmental glare.

“Bullshit.”

“It smells like armpit,” you try again.

“There’s the prissy princess. Well, you should know that the only stuff that smells like that is the shit broke evil dealers peddle to broke college students.”

You roll your eyes, but sit up on your heels so you can pay closer attention. Taehyung flicks his lighter to life and lights up the end of the blunt. He takes a deep inhale before letting out a thick cloud of smoke. He gestures for you to take it, but you shake your head nervously.

“What’s the matter now?”

“I don’t know how to do it. What if I burn my lips?”

He squints at you, wondering how you can be such a baby. “The cherry’s not even on the side you put your mouth on.”

“Whatever! I’m still scared.”

“Do you want to try it, though?”

You gnaw at your lip thoughtfully and decide that you need to take your mind off everything for a while. “Y-yeah, I guess. I don’t have a studio session tomorrow.”

“Okay.” He scoots forward on the couch until your knees are just barely brushing. “I’ll shotgun it to you.”

“What’s that?”

“You’ll see.”

He takes another drag, this time a little smaller, and holds the smoke in his mouth. Turning to you, he leans in until you can feel his bangs brush your forehead as he tilts his head to get the angle right. There’s about an inch of space between your mouths when he starts to let the smoke billow out of his mouth. You get the gist and try to inhale it as best as possible, but you’re new to it and he’s too far away for you to get the smoke.

“I’m not getting any,” your tone is petulant as the smoke floats up around your face.

Taehyung, on the other hand, is already feeling the effects of the strong blend he bought. He scoots forward once more and then turns to the side so he can take another drag. This next time, he grabs your jaw and brings you forward to meet him. Thumbing at your bottom lip, he coaxes your mouth open and slack before slotting his lips over yours. You feel the brush of the supple skin of his lips and it distracts you a bit, but this time you do manage to inhale most of the fumes. Your eyes drop closed as you hold the smoke in for as long as possible before letting your breath out.

“How was that,” Taehyung asks lowly. His lids have drooped to match his relaxed state. With the high slowly creeping over him, he ogles you unabashedly.

“It was okay. Do it again.”

He nods and quickly burns through the rest of the blunt, giving you the larger hits when he shotguns to you and taking slightly smaller drags for himself. To keep you nearby, his hand comes to rest heavily on the small of your back. You, still on your haunches, somehow end up straddling one of his thighs to stay close. Near the end of the blunt, you’re feeling a bit floaty and like the heat from the blunt transferred to your belly. Taehyung’s gaze feels tangible on you, like a firm-handed caress across all parts of you as he looks you over. Like smoke on your skin. You recognize the feeling as one you haven’t felt in a while and move to sit more properly in his lap.

“I want the last one,” you whisper while tugging on the collar of his jacket. The ends of his long hair tickle your fingers.

He nods and moves slowly to suck the roach dry. Once he’s close enough, you wait patiently. His nose grazes your cheek for a few long seconds before he finally turns to pass the smoke to you. You take it obediently and exhale but then grab him by the lapels to press your lips to his. His hands come up immediately to cup your face and pull you closer. You work your lips over his, drawing low groans from him as your tongue teases his.

“You smell good,” he says groggily between kisses.

“Thanks,” you roll your eyes.

His eyes flutter shut when you begin to press kisses to the column of his throat, your hands moving to unbutton the dress shirt he’s wearing underneath. He tries his best to keep up with you, but he gets slow when he’s high. So he settles for you being in charge, but does let his hands roam over your body.

A lot has changed since he last felt you like this. The strict gym regimen you employ to compliment choreography for songs has given you an amazing ass that he thought could only gaze at in pictures. And he had done quite a lot of that. Though he’s not sure how you would feel if he confessed to jerking off to some of your sexier music videos. He marvels at the feel of you and you’re pleasantly surprised when his hands come down heavy on your hips to grind you down onto his lap. A pleased hum leaves you and you reward him with kisses migrating lower, across the path of his now exposed torso. You leave the couch to sit between his spread knees on the floor. The button of his jeans is your last major obstacle and you still your hands over the waistband patiently.

“You get where I’m going with this, right?”

He nods his head, tongue coming out unconsciously to wet his lips at he takes in the sight of you on your knees in front of him.

“Do want you want me to...” you trail off, suddenly feeling a bit embarrassed at asking your ex if you could blow him.

“Do you? Want to?” His hand reaches out to cup your cheek, thumb brushing over you cheekbone.

“Yeah?”

“Then, yeah.”

You move quickly to unbutton his pants and slide them down his thighs once he lifts his butt to assist you. He’s wearing boxers, which is a relief because you don’t want his bare ass on your very expensive couch, and the crotch opening provides easy access. With one hand, you smooth the wrinkles in his boxers over, noting the tent in the fabric and the dark stain where his head must be dribbling pre-cum. Your mouth is watering as you pull him out and test his girth and weight in your hand. Just the sight of his dick in your hand makes you want to swallow him down.

Before he can say anything else, you’re wetting his shaft with broad licks from root to tip. He grits his teeth and lets out a satisfied grunt at the way it feels when you tongue at his slit. You take him in until you just barely wrap your lips around the head, and he lets out a low moan at finally being enveloped in the wet, silken heat of your mouth.

“Can you do me a favor,” he manages to ask you despite the fact that stars are forming in the corner of his vision when you take him against the inside of your cheek.

“Hmm,” you hum around him, causing his hips to jolt up the tiniest amount.

“Can you spit on it?”

You smile in a way that can only be described as predatory and pull him out of your mouth. You spit like he asks, letting some drool pool on him as well, while he moans again and his hand comes out to smooth over your hairline. He’s more vocal than you remember and it gets you wet quickly. Before you stain anything, you kick off your stupid bedazzled leggings so you can return them to Bee in the morning.

“Shit,” he hisses when you start bobbing your head to a fast and unforgiving rhythm. You’re playing with him, you want to wring an orgasm out of him, and he can sense this. “Why don’t we take this s-slow?”

You pull off briefly. “Tae, I want you to fuck my face. That’s not well-suited to slow.”

“Isn’t that bad for your voice,” he mimics your tone from earlier.

You give him a pinch on his thigh before taking him into your mouth again and resuming your ministrations. Since you’re so focused on getting what you want, he decides to try and level the playing field and keeps his hip movements to a minimum and opts to talk through the head instead. He’s determined to get some clarity with you

“I’ve missed you,” he breathes deeply through the feeling of your saliva starting to trickle over him. The slide is getting slicker as you continue, making him lose his train of thought briefly. “So much.”

Instead of replying back with words, you just give a little acknowledging noise that’s too neutral to be a dissenting or affirming noise. He takes it in stride and continues.

“I still think about you all the time. And I—fuck—I’ve tried to date other people, but it’s just never felt quite the same way. You were the only one who understood me so well and who didn’t try to change me.”

His words wash over you and a wave of fondness hits you in a way that has you almost shy. You haven’t been shy in a long while because you couldn’t afford to be in your line of work. People were always trying to capture parts of you, and a great deal of them were trying to capture the uglier sides. There was no room to actually fear that for the last five years of your life because it was inevitable to a certain degree. But as you work over Taehyung, his words make you feel stripped down. You feel bare and small despite the fact that his words have nothing but good in them really.

“If I’m being honest,” he says and you slow your rhythm to stare at him, wondering what he could have to confess. “You might be even further out of my league than when we first met.” You sigh and pull off of him.

“Tae, come on. Give yourself some slack.”

“No, I mean it,” he sits up slowly, tongue heavy with earnestness as he tries to talk through the high. “It seems like you’ve only become more comfortable with yourself since you started singing and the way you move—it’s like you’re from another planet.”

“Oh my god,” your cheeks heat up when he looks at you like you have a halo and wings. “Stop, you’re being so unnecessary right now.”

“I still love you,” he says. The words fall from his mouth like he’s been dying to say them. “And I know you didn’t cheat on me when we were younger.”

Your mouth drops open in shock. To this day you still regretted lying to him like that. But deep down you knew that there was something off about his reaction. He didn’t seem shocked or nearly disappointed as you thought someone might be when they hear they’re being left for another person. Instead, he had just nodded and insisted on driving you home until Bee had to come out and promise him that she’d do it herself. The fact that he didn’t block you on social media or try to drag your name through the mud immediately after your debut made you wonder if he saw through your lie.

“How did you know?”

“I came early to pick you up that day. And I heard Bee tell you what to say to me. How to break up with me.”

“Tae, I’m so—”

He shushes you with a tender kiss to the cheek that’s so soft you’re rendered momentarily speechless.

“I know. It’s not your fault, they didn’t give you a choice.”

“I would have picked you if I could,” you mumble into the space between you. His hands feel like anchors on either side of your face and you cling to them in the hopes that you won’t cry. “I really would have. You don’t know how much I missed you.”

“I feel the same way. It killed me to see you with that Nick asshole.”

You smirk a little at the mention of Nick. “Aw. Were you jealous, Tae?”

He looks down at you for a second, reading your face carefully, before dropping one hand down from your cheeks to the nape of your neck. The weight of it reads as possessive on your skin and you lean forward unconsciously until you’re able to smell the faintly sweet smell of smoke on his clothes.

“You’d like it if I was, right?” His gaze hardens, setting your heartbeat into a rabbit-quick pace. “Hmm? You like me being jealous of him?”

“I don’t know.”

“Yes, you do. Answer me.”

“Okay, fine. Maybe I do,” you nuzzle into his neck to hide the excited smile splitting your lips.

“I knew it. It’s pretty on-brand for you.”

He nudges your bare thigh to signal you need to get up and so you do. You’re about to ask him what the hell ‘on brand’ means for you when he bends down to throw you over his shoulder with a low grunt.

“Tae, what the hell!”

Your raised voice gets you a harsh tweak to the perky globe of your ass and immediately quiets you down. He walks with you to the bed before throwing you down. Not rough enough to hurt but just rough enough to surprise you and give a doe-eyed look to your face. When you look up at him, his charade has fallen a bit, eyes returning to their original sleepy softness.

“Is this how you want it,” he asks you.

His voice is deep and gentle, and it evokes a different but equally visceral reaction. You nod and then shuffle over to the edge of the bed and sit at the edge of the mattress, waiting to see where he’ll take the situation. He smiles darkly at you once more before placing a hand on the back of your head to lead to his crotch.

His erection stands taller than it did before on the couch and he digs his fingers into your hair when you plant sweet kisses on the juncture where his thigh meets groin. You look sweet like this—playful, even—as you mouth along his length with kitten licks interspersed. When you’re about to take him into your mouth once more, he fists your hair and pulls you off him. With your head angled up to look into his eyes, you see a new emotion in them.

“Look,” he sighs. “If we’re going to do this, we’re going to do the whole thing.”

“What, like sex?”

“No, I mean you and me. I want to be with you. I’ve made my peace with what happened between us, but I know I still love you. So, I’m asking you to decide if you’re willing to do that, to be with me. Because I can’t—”

“Yes.”

“What?” His eyes grow wider and take on an awestruck quality. Like he’s not sure he wants to believe what he heard from you. “Really?”

“I want to try again,” you curl your hands around his hips. Bringing him forward into a hug around his pelvis, you lean your chin on his lower abdomen and try to infuse as much reassurance as you can into your smile.

“You won’t get in trouble with your agency?”

You shake your head and curl your arms around his hips, bringing him into an awkward hug as you lean your chin on his lower abdomen and look up at him. “Nick was an exception because he and I were arranged by our respective agencies, but my dating clause expired last year. I can date who I want. Within reason.”

He throws his head back with the realization that he’ll get a second chance with you. The hand he has on the back of your head softly caresses the skin of your neck.

“God, I love you,” he breathes with eyes drifting closed in contentedness.

“Good. Now can we get back to this? You were being fun earlier.”

“Yeah?” His tone turns gravelly and coy as he coaxes you back towards his dick. “Are you ready to choke?”

You can only nod as you take him in gradually, only for him to wait until you get halfway and push your head further down. You gag around him at the sudden pressure at the back of your throat, but shift your breathing through your nose to get a better handle on it. He pulls you by the hair until you’re at the tip again before slamming you back down, your nose nearly brushing the skin of his abdomen. You gag and the sound causes him to thicken in your mouth and a rush of arousal to trickle down into your panties.

“You feel so good around my cock,” he moans as he begins thrusting shallowly into your mouth. You can tell he’s close from how irregular the rhythm is. “Can you try to deep throat me?”

After you give an affirmative hum and relax your throat as best you can, he takes your face in both hands and starts to pull you up and down his length, going further each time until he knows he’s in your throat from the sudden tightness of you swallowing and the increase in gagging. Saliva is now dripping from your mouth, coating him and your chin, but you don’t care. Your eyes tear up at the burning sensation, but you can also feel your arousal trickle down your leg as he fucks your mouth more intensely. Right as you press two fingers to your clothed center for some relief, he gives you a tapped warning on your neck and his orgasm spills into your mouth.

He quickly pulls off his jacket and shirt, handing the latter to you to wipe your eyes and mouth with. Once your face is dry, he tucks himself back in and climbs around you into the bed. You turn to watch him fold back your blankets and throw the pillows you have all to the foot of the bed, leaving the space by the headboard. Taehyung then lies down, head where your pillows once were.

“Going to sleep already?” Your voice comes out in a sultry croak that has him laughing a little.

“No, I’m getting ready for you to sit on my face,” he says simply.

When you don’t budge, he sits up and pulls you by the arms toward him. You try to escape him, but his grip just tightens the more you protest.

“Tae, wait, I’m not—”

“You’re not what?”

“I’m not...presentable. Down there.” You avert your eyes as you explain to him that it's been a since you were last at a spa to get waxed. You figured since you weren’t seeing Nick anymore and you were mandated by your PR crew to wait at least 4 months after a breakup, there was no need to keep up with such a strict...landscaping routine. He rolls his eyes and moves to pull on the waistband of your panties to peek in and see what you mean, but you shove him away.

“Do you think I actually care?”

“Do you really not?”

“No? Unless you have some disease or infection, what’s the issue?”

“I’m clean,” you pout.

“Good,” he says before placing a kiss on your lips.

While you’re distracted by the kissing, he maneuvers you into straddling his waist before pulling back. Reluctantly, you shuffle up to hover over his ribcage and shyly grab the headboard. He huffs.

“You know I can’t reach you from there. It’s called sitting on someone’s face for a reason.”

He nudges your butt until the seat of your panties lines up with his jaw. He sees a few errant curls peeking out from the leg holes of your panties, so he uses a finger to push your underwear to the side to get a better look. What’s unsurprising is that it still looks like a vagina, though it had been a while since his last non-bald encounter. He doesn’t care, though, and cups your butt in his hands to move you the rest of the way.

The broad strip he licks up from your entrance to your clit takes you by surprise and because you were wound up so tight from a combination of nerves and horniness from blowing him, you let out a high keening sound. Taehyung chuckles beneath you before using his full lips to kiss at the apex of your thighs, sucking your clit into his mouth. The tip of his tongue scrubs figure eights against the bundle of nerve endings and has you squirming over him. More arousal leaks from you and he shifts to drink from you, humming and slurping obscenely. He then starts to lick at you in earnest, tracing strategic shapes across your lips and sucking with varying pressures and paces until you start rocking over him on your own accord.

“That’s my girl,” he praises you from below. “Now, ride my face,” he says before flattening his tongue and pressing up to meet your tentative grinding thrusts.

The combination of saliva and your arousal makes the glide smoother than you expected and it feels so good that one of your hands leaves the headboard to fist in his thick hair. He moans a little at the faint sting and wraps his hands around the backs of your thighs to press you against him harder. His tongue dips into your entrance occasionally, chasing the flavor of your arousal, trying not to let any of your juices go to waste. You bite your lip to trap the wanton moans trying to escape you, but Taehyung realizes what you’re doing and gives you another sharp swat to the bottom to coax them out, mumbling against the inside of your thigh not to hide from him anymore.

As you start to move more desperately above him, he attempts to fuck you more purposefully with his tongue. It’s just enough that in a dozen more swivels of your hips, you’re cumming all over his face, soaking his cheeks with a glistening varnish. You try to move as quickly as possible, but he stops you with a tight hold on your hips and licks you clean. You squirm away, partly because you’re sensitive and partly because he’s so enthusiastic about it that you’re a little bashful.

Finally he lets you get off him, but he doesn’t let you get too far. He follows you and almost makes it into the en suite with you, but you close the door at the last moment. You pee and clean up and when you come out, you feel like a weight has been lifted. Taehyung looks infinitely more sober lying in the middle of your bed in just his boxers, eyes bright and hair messy as he tries to figure out which remote will turn on your speakers.

You stand by the bed and watch him for a while. He turns to you innocently and holds the remotes in his two hands with confusion.

“What?”

“Nothing,” you approach your closet and take off your borrowed sweatshirt before looking for your favorite well-worn sweatsuit. “You’re just so pretty.”

“You’re prettier,” he shouts over to you. He can’t see you inside your closet, but you’re smiling like an idiot.

When you’re fully changed, you go to the bed and lean over him to kiss him. He still smells like you and you tell him so, to which he responds with a grin and subtly licking his lips.

“So when do you want me to tell the public about you?”

“Whenever you want,” he shrugs.

“Really? Because there’s a good chance you won’t be able to live your life the same way you have been once I do that.”

“Then it’ll just change. I would expect it to if you’re coming back into my life again.”

“Oh my god, you’re so—”, you’re at a loss for words.

You decide to crawl into his space and pepper kisses into his skin. He smells like a strange blend of you and him, but the smell is reassuring in some way unknown to you. You sit there for the rest of the night, breathing him in like smoke

#bscproject #bangtan bookclub #bttnetwork #95line.net #kimtaehyung.net #bts scenarios #bts imagines #bts smut #bts fanfic #taehyung scenarios #taehyung imagine #taehyung fanfic

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madamebaggio · 5 years

Text

Is that duet finally happening?

In the last weeks there has been a lot of talk of a supposed duet between pop princess Sansa Stark and Camelot’s frontman Arthur Pendragon. The agents of both artists have repeatedly denied those rumors, but perhaps we’ve been played. Sansa Stark was spotted yesterday leaving the studio where Camelot is supposedly working on a new album. It was clear the popstar was trying to pass by unnoticed, but we have the pictures to prove. So the question remains: is that duet finally coming along?

Chapter 8

Four days after the Grammy, Sansa had just finished rehearsals when her phone rang and Arthur’s name -she’d saved his number, to Shae’s delight -flashed on screen.

She was smiling like an idiot when she answered it. “Well, I expected I’d regret giving you my number, I just didn’t think it’d be this fast.”

“Very funny, Stark.” He drawled. “How is your extremely busy schedule going?”

She thought of all the rehearsals and interviews she had scheduled. “Extremely busy.”

“Can you spare one hour?” He pressed.

“What for?”

“To come to a studio.”

That gave her pause. “Is this that duet story?”

He hummed. “Not at this time.”

Honestly, that man. Not at this time? What was that even supposed to mean?

“Can you imagine the reactions if we’re seen together at a studio?” She asked instead.

“Then sneak in. Sneak in to see the bad boy.” He paused. “Oh I like that. I’ve always wanted to corrupt a good girl.”

She laughed. “You’re ridiculous, Pendragon.”

She could picture his grin perfectly. “Does this mean you’re coming?”

She didn’t even have to question herself. “Yes. Make it worth my while.”

“I will, Red.” His voice was full of promise. “When are you free?”

XxX

Sansa’s schedule was insane since she won her Grammys, so it took a while to find a date to go to the studio.

Brienne wasn’t happy with this at all, specially because they had no idea what Arthur was up to.

When the day finally came, Sansa put her most inconspicuous attire and went to the address Arthur had provided.

She was received at the door by Bedivere, Camelot’s agent. “Miss Stark.”

“Hello.” She felt embarrassed for some reason.

“He’s waiting for you down here. Follow me.”

Sansa nodded and went after him.

“Does he annoy you too much?” She asked, because Bedivere seemed so serious and sensible, and Arthur… Was Arthur.

Bedivere chuckled. “Less than he did a few years back. But, at this point, I’m not about to leave the kid.”

She gave him a smile as he stopped in front of a door. “In you go.”

“Thank you.”

It was a recording studio. Arthur was standing by a piano with sheets of paper on his hand. He hadn’t seen her yet, because he was on the other side of the glass.

“The lad has been waiting the whole day.” Bedivere informed her. “Drove us all mad. Please, save us.”

She laughed a bit awkwardly and went ahead. When he heard the door he looked up and opened a huge smile. “Red.”

“We’re not that close yet, Pendragon.” She told him dryly.

“I’ll hold on to that yet.” He wiggled his eyebrows at her.

She snorted. “You got me here. What do you have for me?”

Just like that, his cocky attitude seemed to disappear. Sansa watched in wonder as he got… Was he getting shy now?

“Right.” He cleared his throat. “I wrote a song, and…” He scratched the back of his head. “It’s for you. If you want it, of course.”

Sansa wasn’t expecting that. “You wrote a song and want to give it to me?” She was bewildered.

“I wrote it for you.” He clarified, looking distinctly uncomfortable. “It’s meant to be sung by you.”

“You…” Sansa was frozen, caught between shock and elation, and just plain amazement. “You wrote it for me?”

“Yes.”

“I…” She felt her face heating up. “I don’t… Thank you.”

“You might wanna see it before you thank me.”

“Arthur.” She called softly. “Thank you.”

He just nodded and passed the papers to her.

Sansa read the title. “Porcelain, Ivory, Steel.” She hummed. “It sounds intense.”

“Shut up and sit.” He pointed at the piano, clearly embarrassed.

XxX

As Sansa sat and tested a few keys on the piano, Arthur became acutely aware that this was the first time they were actually alone.

They’d met in person only a handful of times and it was never in a place where they could talk alone.

He had Sansa Stark all to himself.

Arthur wondered if he’d screw this up. He used to mess a lot of things up back in the day. He couldn’t go one day without getting into a fight, trying to prove himself to some invisible power.

Even music, something he’d always loved, was more an excuse to go to pubs, to show how fucking good he was, and -eventually -fight.

Fortunately Bedivere found him and slapped him on the back of the head. Repeatedly.

However, that old voice of insecurity was whispering to him again, letting him know that she was way too much for him. Sansa Stark deserved way better than him and his stupid songs.

“How do you want to do this?” Sansa asked, turning to him.

“Hum?” Arthur’s head snapped in her direction.

“Earth to Arthur.” Sansa smiled at him. “Are you here with me?”

“Yeah, sure.” He cleared his throat. “How about you play and I sing it, at first?”

“Works for me.” She turned back to her music sheet.

Arthur cleared his throat and waited for her to start. Once she did, he focused on his part. This song wasn’t made with his pitch in mind, so it took some adapting for him to sing it.

Once it was over, Arthur waited for Sansa to say something, but she remained silent, staring at her hands on her lap.

Oh fuck.

“Sansa?” He called, slightly concerned. Had she hated it? “Sansa?”

She took a deep breath before turning to him, her eyes misty with tears. “You really wrote this for me?”

“Yeah.”

She gave a watery laughter. “I love it. I truly do.”

“Fuck, Stark, you almost killed me here.” He chuckled, a lot of tension leaving his body. “You weren’t supposed to cry.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, Red. I’m not upset.” He hurried to say, then he raised his hand and wiped a stray tear. “Not if these are happy tears. I’m glad you liked it. It’s all yours.”

“Thank you.” She told him heartfeltly. “What you did… Honestly, I have no words.”

“I’m fine with ‘thank you’. Maybe one ‘I completely forgive you’...” He teased.

Sansa laughed. “So all of this is for my forgiveness?”

“Red… What did I tell you about paying attention?”

Sansa bit her lower lip. “Yes… I promise I’m paying attention now.” She cleared her throat. “My turn?”

“Please.” He indicated the piano.

She started playing again and this time he let her sing on her own, and just watched.

And as he watched her there, so close, singing the song he wrote just for her, Arthur felt his heart growing so big he feared it might not fit his chest anymore.

If he was in love before, he had no idea what to call this feeling right now.

XxX

Sansa couldn’t believe he’d written her a song. It wa the most ridiculous thing someone had ever done for her.

And it was freaking perfect. The lyrics, the melody… She couldn’t love it anymore if she tried.

What was this man doing to her?

Once she sang it alone, they discussed some changes in a few parts to suit her voice better.

They worked on it for the whole hour she had, but then she needed to leave.

Arthur walked her to the door. “Thank you for coming, Sansa.”

“Are you kidding? Thank you for the song.”

He shrugged. “It was my pleasure.”

“Can I remix it? Make it dancey?” She teased.

“I swear to God, Stark, you turn this into a pop song, my next album will be exclusively of covers from your first.” He fake growled at her, making her laugh again.

It was ridiculous how much this man was making her laugh.

“It might be worth it just to see you trying.” She grinned at him.

“Cruel woman.” He sighed dramatically.

They stood there in silence, just looking at each other for a minute. Strangely, it didn’t feel weird doing it.

Sansa shook her head. “I have to go.”

“Don’t be a stranger, Stark.” He told her.

“I won’t.” She promised him.

Sansa wasn’t sure what took over her, but she wanted to hug him, so she just went for it. Since she was taller than most girls, it was easy for her to just throw her arms around his neck.

“Thank you again.” She murmured against his ear.

Arthur seemed surprised, but was quick to hug her back. “Stop thanking me. I did it because I wanted to.”

“Shut up and let me thank you.” She grumbled.

“I’ll just accept it because of the hug.” He hummed, giving her waist a squeeze with his arms.

Sansa snorted, but stayed there for just a minute longer than she should’ve had.

When she finally decided this was probably way too long hug between people that weren’t exactly friends, she pulled back gently.

She didn't actually go that far; her hands were still on his shoulders and his were still on her waist. She was looking into his eyes and he was looking into hers like the world had faded around them

Arthur chuckled. “Goddamnit, I could get lost in those eyes of yours.”

Sansa wasn’t sure if she’d moved first, or if it’d been him; they were so close it might’ve as well been both of them. She just knew that one minute they were looking into each other’s eyes, and -in the next- they were kissing.

She was kissing Arthur Pendragon.

It was soft and tentative and everything she’d never expected from a supposed bad boy, and -exactly because of it -it felt perfect. Her arms went back around his neck and he pulled her tighter against him. There was no hurry in it, just a strange connection that kept pulling them together.

Sansa let go of his neck to put a hand over his heart -it was beating insanely - and Arthur took the moment to cradle her face and kiss her deeper and sweeter. She hadn’t been kissed in a while, but Sansa didn’t remember it ever being like this before.

When they parted, they were both breathing irregularly.

“I…” Suddenly she felt incredibly awkward.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…” Arthur cleared his throat. “I wasn’t planning on kissing you just like this.”

“It’s okay.” Sansa took a step back, feeling overwhelmed. “I need to go.”

“Sansa, wait.” Arthur asked, but didn’t grab or crowd her. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” She took another step back. “Thank you for the song.”

Arthur was looking a bit unsure then. “Are you sure?”

She gave him a weak smile. “I’ll talk to you later.” She just said, as she turned and -basically -fled the scene.

She heard him calling her name one more time, but she was too scared to turn.

OMG.

******

Notes: THEY KISSED!! *screams*

I hope you guys enjoyed it. I was grinning like an idiot as I wrote this.

Also, the song I had in mind this whole time for Sansa’s song is from a band called Halestorm, “Break In”. It isn’t the same song, just something along those lines. Anyway, it’s a beautiful song, you should listen to it.

Two chapters to the end. Sansa and Arthur will see each other in the next one.

Let me know your feelings.

#madame baggio #fanfiction #CrossOver #Crossover Pairings #modern au #game of thrones #king arthur legend of the sword #Sansa Stark #Arthur Pendragon #Sansa x Arthur #theres no way

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westallenfun · 6 years

Text

My Best Friend's Almost Boyfriend - 1/3

Westallen Secret Santa gift from @backtothestart02 for @onthecyberseas

From your secret santa:

I loved writing this! Your AU idea sounded like such a cool idea, so I jumped on the opportunity right away. Hopefully you’ll enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays!

-Lauren

…

Chapter 1 -

Barry Allen. Iris wrinkled her nose in disgust at the very sound of his name as it bounced around in her mind. The singer. The popstar. The guy that had bailed on his first date with her best friend.

“Something came up,” Linda had said with a woeful sigh.

Given that it was three days later and he hadn’t so much as deigned to call and apologize, Iris had taken matters into her own annoyed hands. She stomped over to the karaoke bar he sometimes frequented – the height of his singing career at the time – and grilled the bartender for the location of his likely humble abode.

The bartender that night looked fifteen, not twenty-one, but Iris was not one to focus on the legalities of that situation in the moment, even if her dad was a cop. Still, on that note, she was glad a pretty brunette had intervened, quickly informing her she knew this Barry Allen – he was a friend of hers – and asking what exactly the problem was.

“I’ll tell you what the problem is,” Iris barked. “Your ‘friend’ bailed on my best friend two seconds after picking her up for a date three days ago. He hasn’t so much as called her to apologize, or – or sent her flowers, which is what he should be doing. She was excited for that date.”

A slightly shorter guy with dark flowing locks approached from behind the woman, looking concerned, but Iris only spared him a single glance before returning her fiery gaze to the brunette in front of her.

“Are…” She looked over to the new arrival before looking back at Iris. “Are you talking about Linda?”

Well, that took her off guard.

Iris’ shoulders slumped slightly, a myriad of questions racing through her mind.

“You…you guys know Linda?”

“Yeah, she’s great—”

“We don’t know her know her,” the woman clarified, cutting off her friend. “She’s the first person that got Barry to do a repeat performance up onstage after praising him the first time.” She lowered her voice slightly, suddenly unable to maintain eye contact. “It wasn’t one of my brightest moments. I don’t remember much, but apparently I was incredibly drunk and he took pity on me when I declared I was doing karaoke.” She cleared her throat.

“Which is why she’s great,” the man beside her said amidst her brief embarrassment.

Iris glanced between the two, sifting through the information she’d been given and wondering why Linda hadn’t told her this particular story.

“I have a date tonight!” she’d declared the night of said date.

Iris’ jaw had dropped. “With who?” she demanded, though she couldn’t help but smile.

“Just…a guy…at a bar…that I casually gave my phone number to via an app,” she said nonchalantly, but she was clearly gushing.

“That’s sooo not like you, Lin.” She lowered her voice. “Picking up a guy at a bar?”

“I know, I know, but I have a really good feeling about him, Iris. I think he’s one of the good ones.”

Iris had been happy for her, truly, but all that had gone up in smoke when moments after he met her at their workplace, and Linda had dashed off to her desk to get her jacket, Barry had quite lamely – and obviously – made up an excuse to leave on her return.

“Good to meet you, Iris,” he’d said by way of goodbye.

She’d glared and not said a single word, her best friend fighting not to look disappointed beside her.

“I really have to go,” he said regrettably, then turned to Linda. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s all right,” her best friend said far too brightly. “Things come up. I understand.”

“Right.”

“Maybe another time,” Linda had started to say, but he’d turned to leave before she could get all the words out, and he’d never contacted her again.

“If she’s so great,” Iris said, the memory of what drove her fury coursing through her veins as she crossed her arms tightly beneath her breasts. “Why did he ditch her two minutes after he picked her up for their date?” she seethed.

“I…” the man began.

“She didn’t tell you?” the woman asked, confused.

“No!” Iris threw her hands up in the air. “How could she have told me what she didn’t know herself? She hasn’t heard from him since he stormed out of CCPN three days ago saying something came up! The lying ass,” she muttered under her breath.

“Storming seems a little…un-Barry-like,” the man said in response.

“Yeah, I don’t think—”

“Okay, fine, he didn’t storm,” Iris allowed in a huff. “He walked normally.” Her brows furrowed, remembering. “He actually…stumbled a little, I think.”

“Now that sounds like Barry,” the man said, smiling brightly as he took a bite of a piece of red licorice he’d either pulled from his pocket or been holding in his hand the whole time.

“Definitely,” the woman muttered, laughing slightly under her breath.

“Forget the stumbling,” Iris brushed that aside, realizing she was getting nowhere with these two. She ignored their frowns when she said so. “Tell me where he is. I need to talk to him. He is going to be apologizing to my best friend, and at the very least he is going to take her on one date. She deserves that much. Or at least flowers. He can afford flowers, right? He can’t be that broke. Or-” A possibility dawned on her, and she felt guilty for the first time. “He’s not…he’s not broke, is he?” she lowered her voice. “Is that why he bailed on her? And why he never called her after that? He was too embarrassed to admit it?”

The two in front of her shared another look, which she was already tiring of.

“No, that’s not why…”

Her feeling of guilt evaporated.

“Then tell me where he is. I demand an explanation. Linda does too, because she deserve—”

The woman suddenly grasped her wrist in her hand. Iris fought the urge to pull away.

“Hey, I know you’re upset, but-”

This time Iris did pull away.

The woman sighed. “I just don’t think he can tell you anything that he didn’t already tell her.”

Iris’ brows furrowed in confusion. “Huh?”

“It’s true,” the man piped up, bouncing up on his toes as he took another bite of his snack. “Barry called her up two days ago and told her what happened. He said she understood but was disappointed. He wanted to make it up to her somehow, but we pointed out to him that pursuing her would be unfair to both him and her, so he settled for sending her a bouquet of flowers. We never found out if she accepted them or not, and he never heard from her again.”

Iris was more confused than ever. She couldn’t remember seeing flowers on Linda’s desk ever in the past three days. She hadn’t noticed any when she stopped by her apartment one night for a detox after work either. Was it possible Barry Allen had sent flowers and her best friend had just been so upset by the whole ordeal that she threw them out immediately and didn’t even bother telling her?

Why wouldn’t she tell her? She pouted, feeling slightly betrayed now.

“So, I…I don’t…”

“Maybe you should ask Linda what he said?”

“No.” She shook her head. “If you guys are telling the truth-”

“We are!” They both declared simultaneously.

She blinked, briefly silenced.

“Then your friend must’ve really broken her heart if she didn’t feel like she could tell me, her best friend.” She sighed and shook her head, tugging her purse strap higher up over her shoulder. “I don’t want to know anymore.” She took a breath and looked at them before turning to leave. “But Barry Allen is no friend of mine.”

She filtered out their protests as she left the bar. She didn’t even know them, and she didn’t know Barry Allen, but she did know that his excuse must’ve been really shitty if Linda couldn’t tell her what was up. That was all she needed to know. Barry Allen was a scumbag, a real asshole. She wished him nothing but misery and failure in his life. And whatever happened, he better not fall in love.

Three years later, looking over a set-in-stone assignment on her desk, she knew the universe had heard her bitter wish and immediately thrown it in the trash. Barry Allen might not be in love – as far as was public knowledge – but he was no longer just occasionally singing karaoke in halfway decent bars. He was rising to stardom, and her boss had made it clear that an exclusive with him would spruce up the entertainment page of Central City Picture News, maybe draw in younger readers.

“We’re not a gossip rag,” she’d shot back two seconds after she asked to speak with him privately and shut the door behind her. He didn’t bother to offer her the vacant chair on the opposite side of his desk. She never took it. She was only ever in his office when his assignments irritated her, which was often.

“This could be your big break, Iris,” he said with a sigh, circling his desk to sit in his chair.

“I don’t care!”

He raised an eyebrow, and with some effort she reined herself in.

“There will be other stories,” she said. “And I’m sure there are several reporters here that would love to do a piece on him.”

“But I don’t want anyone else to write it. I want you.”

“Why?” she demanded.

“You’re not biased.”

She scoffed.

“You’re not biased in the way a lot of young people are. You don’t think he’s the best thing since sliced bread.”

“He’s scum.”

Her boss waited.

“That’s bias, right?” she pointed out.

“Do this for me, and I’ll consider letting you branch out with your stories.”

“What do you mean ‘branch out’?”

“I mean, you choose the next five stories you want to write. If I like the outcome, I’ll promote you to investigative reporter.”

She wished she’d been near the chair to sit down in it. Her mind was racing. She’d been writing puny little stories, small-time crimes or large-scale crimes that she wasn’t allowed to look into. She wanted to make a mark in the world, and she wanted to do it as a reporter. She’d been at CCPN four years and never achieved the level of success she wanted. Who knew when an opportunity like this might come again?

Finally, she looked up at her boss, taking a couple steps towards where he sat.

“All I have to do is interview the scumbag?”

He smiled serenely.

“All you have to do is interview the scumbag.”

Hesitantly, she smiled and then nodded.

“Do try to be somewhat objective though, Miss West,” he said before she reached the door.

“I’m sorry?” she asked, her brows furrowing as her hand came to rest on the door handle.

“This can’t be a revenge piece to get back at him for whatever he supposedly did to you.”

“It’s not me he did-”

He held up his hand to silence her, and she stopped.

“I want an honest piece. Can you do that?”

Gradually, she allowed the tiniest of smiles to slip through.

“I can certainly try.”

A week later, a date and time finally arranged, Iris sat in a nearly empty studio, nothing but white walls and light wood floor, and some stereo equipment that she guessed belonged in the soundproof room down the hall.

There was not a sound in the place. The security guy for the building happened to be walking by when she arrived and let her in once she told him who she was and why she was there.

He smiled genuinely.

“I heard you were coming. Just head on up. Fifth floor. He should be here soon.”

She forced a smile, quietly said her thanks and headed for the elevator.

The large floor-to-ceiling windows mesmerized her when she’d first walked in, but now she wanted to throw a rock through them and scuff the floor from one side to the next with her pretty new heels.

Linda was so, so lucky she never got so far as one date with him. She would’ve been nothing but disappointed and probably would’ve dumped him within a week of knowing him.

No girl could wait this long for a date to arrive. No call, no text, no doubt in her mind now that he had no one special in his life.

Barry Allen was two hours late. And counting.

#westallen secret santa #WestAllen #The Flash #Barry Allen #Iris West #Iris WestAllen #Grant Gustin #Canice Patton #Barry x Iris #Iris x Barry #submission

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maewestside · 7 years

Text

THE PRIVATE LIFE IS DEAD: Long Live Karma... by heidi siegmund cuda, aka @maewestside

So there we were, Tigger and I, trying to find the South Pasadena chapter of Indvisible lol as we marched in the July 4th parade, and she’s giving me an earshot on political theory and trying to keep me focused on the narrow focus of the law and what it is you can prove. Well, to be specific. What Bob Mueller can prove.

Tigger being an aces attorney and veteran politico is the leader of our #truthsquad pack, which really isn’t a pack and has no leaders, but rather, a group of very smart women, and the men who fuel us with support and wisdom. We somehow all found each other getting truth out on twitter. And cuz it’s life during wartime, we became fast besties. With my #freepress goggle of media-chicanery expertise that can only come with 30 years of putting 80 pounds of shite into a ten pound bag, I seem to attract both left and right brainers, or as I like to think of them, a cosmic angel posse of renowned global experts on myriad subjects. We are all a bit mad, you know. Quite. We are putting country and love of humanity above everything else.

Gee how I love these brainiacs who bravely get truth out on twitter hour after hour, day after day, complex stuff that we break down to brass tacks, a whodunit as told by global bravehearts. We’re exhausted, we do at great personal peril, but no sleep till Brooklyn as I always say.

And the truth shall set we free and already is. Insert butterflies here.

IMPEACHMENT MARCH

What a simply perfect day. July 2. We were feeling im-peachy waltzing through the streets of #dtla with those thousands of kin who feel the smartest move at this juncture is for all those 70 percent of Americans who ain’t too keen on the Pageant Queen Regime to march on Washington and demand the Defenestration of Scamalot. Are we not Men? Are we not Women? Were there not dogs, babies and strollers all concurring: our country is sinking under the weight of thugs. And just cuz it’s a different kind of war… the dropping of cyberbombs in collusion with ma$$media running interference for lucre… doesn’t mean you can’t pay attention.

Your personal data has been weaponized.

We know that whenever there is intense mysery, a small few greedy fukcs are profiting. But this mawb bo$$ and his toadie$ take the cake, I mean, every move is right out of the #geezersplaybook. Erl.

I recommend rather than trying to follow the money to oil etal, just donate your car, and take public transit, bike, lyft or walk, work from home and help save the world from gangsta$ and thug$ out to create misery and profit off wars and such. Not to mention the clean air thing.

That’s how I got to the “Impeachment March” in #dtla, riding on the Metro and making friends with other do-gooders.

For more on that, our hero, Vlad. Gentle readers: please pay attention to your Romanian, Ukrainian, Russian, Hungarian and Bosnian friends. They will tell you about how rights are taken away incrementally so a small greedy few thug$ can profit:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4VUT-z9LbD8

TO RUSSIA WITH LOVE

Whenever a people are demonized, we must always clarify: It ain’t the people, it’s the leaders, the despots, the glory hunters, the power whores, the usual suspects who cause all that misery but look pretty on TV.

So because it’s been a minute since I read Pasternak and watched “Doctor Zhivago,” I figgered, “Better bone up on the Russian Revolution, agin.”

Plus it’s a good excuse to rekindle my love jones for Rod Steiger and Julie Christie, as well as the costumers and art directors for the David Lean epic.

Here are the cliffies:

“I wish they’d decide which gang of hooligans constitutes the government of this country!”

That line uttered by a man, once rich then poor, who just wants to get on with the libretto. Ergo, it doesn’t matter if it’s pre-Revolutionary Russia or post-apocalyptic America, we all share the same frustration. And currently, our leaders $uck.

Another zinger:

“The private life is dead… history killed it…”

#word

We lost our private lives to data miner$, and we gave it away freely to take cutesy wootsy quizzes to figger out which ‘80s popstar is our spirit animal. This was valuable data in this election, our information now used to tell shady fukc$ how to market to us.

In 2016, it was used to mislead us by creeper$ out for an #ROI, and they surely got it. We are currently fukced till impeachment of all creeper-a$$ociate$ of the mawb bo$$.

While the world is upended by misery and now those trying to do good are allowing rogue character$ to divide them, dirty deals are being done dirt cheap and as long as you keep watching Der Propaganda TV and take the Meds They Push to Keep You Watching, you might not know who dunnit.

But c’mon now, we know #scamalot is laden with felonious monsters, we have the court docs to prove it. We also know fraud occurred. We have the docs to prove that. But why run down the hill to eff the first cow? Why not just walk down, after assembling the puzzle of the Big Con, and take out all hundert or so?!

Just pray Bob Mueller, within the letter of the law, can round up all the Horse$ Arse$ and get us some kind of justice.

Meanwhile, we in the Resistance will be marching and pushing #peoplepower cuz something’s gotta give.

DEFENESTRATION

Good thing, glory hunters are defenestrating themselves. And because the private life is dead, and because the internet killed it, why not take advantage of it till reparations and live by karma. All your deeds become you. So shed your baggage and step into the light. Let karma and truth be the stuff that guides you until we can lasso in all the Big Brother$.

YOUR POINT, THEIR VILLAGE

Sometimes Glory Hunters don’t care what village they burn to make their point, and during these cybertreasonous times, that should be of concern to all Americans.

If we can’t unite now after being played by a TV Carny with catchphrases, then this is no longer America.

NOBODY LOVES POETRY LIKE A RUSSIAN

Because I am concerned by the #goonsindrag who kiss the ar$e of the Popular Vote Loser so good they got cabinet post$, I am paying close attention to my friends from Moscow, Kiev, Bosnia, stories I’ve collected over the years that tell a more clearcut picture of what war looks like and how it’s played out in modern times.

It starts with the silencing of truth.

My friends from the Eastern Bloc consist of gals who came for modeling gigs that turned out not to be modeling gigs.

My friends from Eastern Bloc countries consist of tough beauties whose family members starved and died. They had no food.

Check out my friend from Bosnia, and what she has to say about those who vote based on hate and greed:

https://twitter.com/foxycuda/status/825165047693316096

INDEPENDENCE DAY

Our #freepress #truthsquad #knowledgeswap posse has made so many friends in the past few days because people from throughout America and in countries #acrosstheuniverse know love when they feel it, namely love of country, love of humanity, a desire to do better.

We’re just trying to pump information as quickly as we can. We broke the ol timey investigative model of waiting till sweeps to sell fear and loathing, and instead, we are the wind beneath each other’s wings, building a sturdy global bridge of worldwide expertise chiseling away bit by bit at fraud, at the Big Con.

PLOP QUIZ

So please give us your hungry, weary, truthseekers and we will do our best to comfort you with truth. The misery that is upon is merely the passing of greed… allow it to pass…

And a final word of caution friends: next time you get the opportunity to take an online personality quiz, think twice: the country you could be preserving just might be your own.

******

Author Heidi Siegmund Cuda is honored to be swimming in a twitter stream of do-gooders. Follow her at @foxycuda and she’ll connect you to a whipsmart crew making the world better, one tweet at a time.

(impeachment marchers #dtla july 2)

#foxycuda #twitterlove #twittertruth #realnews #realreporting #realjournalism #changetheworldwithus #indivisibleca43 #indivisibleguide #impeachmentmarch #impeachmentmarchla #dtla #theresistance #truthsquad #knowledgeswap #freepress #cuztruth #independenceday #energy independence

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dancerlittle006 · 7 years

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Stories of Our Lives - Chapter 9

A/N: During the chapter, an old One Direction interview is mentioned - most of you will remember this interview fondly. I'm in love with this chapter. Let me know what you think!

October 22, 2018

It was coming up on a year since our two lovebirds had met in that now famous bar. No celebrations had been planned but Gia had a secret up her sleeve for her boyfriend.

Jumping on the bed, she placed her cold hands on his back eliciting a whine from her sleeping partner. "Gia."

"Good morning Popstar. Come on and get up. I've got a surprise for you." She announced loudly causing the covers to be pulled over his head.

Louis whine; Gia merely laughed. "It's a great surprise and you're going to love it."

"Does it require me moving from this bed?"

Pulling the covers away from his face, Gia giggled. "Yes, you do. I've put a lot of effort into this surprise for you. Come on."

Groaning, he managed to push himself up to a sitting position giving her a pitiful look. "Am I going to like this surprise?"

"You're going to love it Pooks! Get ready. I've got breakfast almost ready."

Walking out of the room, she headed back to the kitchen. The past two months since their fight had renewed the couple. They were back to their old selves but had a new focus on their relationship. Their friends had noticed a difference and whole-heartily approved.

Scooping the eggs and toast onto the plates, Gia dug into hers while hearing shuffling in the bedroom. Another thing they had started was equally planning their outings and dates. Louis was always up for adventures and that's exactly what was on the agenda for today.

"I'm up and ready! Are you happy?" Louis grumbled sitting at the bar.

Gia grinned in his direction. "Ecstatic. Now eat up. We have places to go and people to see."

"What are we doing exactly?"

Finishing her food, Gia placed her plate in the dishwasher, turning her attention to Louis. "You're going to have to wait and see. No hints! But you might want to bring a jacket; it may get cold where we are going."

"How are we getting there?" Finishing his tea, Louis looked at his girlfriend grinning.

Double checking her bag, Gia shook her head. "We are taking the train."

"You are having too much fun with this Italia!"

Nodding, she couldn't disagree with him. "Yup! You usually have me in the dark; now the tables are turned so now you get to see how I always feel."

"I'm done. When are we leaving?"

Seeing the clock hit 7:15, she smiled. "Ten minutes?"

"Sounds good." He murmured, sauntering over to her, pressing his lips to hers. "I didn't get my good morning kiss."

Sighing into the kiss, Gia wrapped her arms around his waist. "I'm sorry. I was just excited for today. Get ready and we'll go."

"Love you too turkey." Louis muttered walking out of the kitchen.

Gia giggled, walking her boyfriend walk away. He was so easy to tease and on most days she had fun with it. She knew he would be difficult today; he did not like being in the dark when it came to their dates. He loved having his hands in every piece of his life and for him to be in the dark, well he didn't take to kindly to that.

Grabbing her purse, keys to the flat, she did one more sweep of the kitchen before heading towards the door. "Come on pretty boy. Your hair looks fine."

"Hold your horses babe. It takes time for me to look this good." He grinned meeting her in the living room.

Louis linked hands with Gia before guiding her out of the flat. The two walked through the lobby heading towards the closest tube station. "Which stop are we getting off at?"

"Kings Cross Station."

Growling under his breath, he mocked glare. "You're killing me Gia. Throw me some kind of bone. Where are we going once we reach Kings Cross? Are we going to the countryside or to another major city? Are we going shopping or getting our nails done or going to a movie? Give me a break."

"Are you quite done?" Heading to the underground, Gia linked their hands in fears of losing sight of Louis. "I'm taking you to a place that's really special to me. You have been here before but only saw a piece of it. I want to show you the important parts. Now once we are on the train, I'll give you three yes or no questions you can ask."

His eyes widened grinning. "Why not five or ten?"

"Don't push it. I don't want you to figure it out before we get there." Stepping onto the train, Louis guided her to a seat near the back of the cabin. "Now what's your first question."

Louis chuckled. "Did we have a date here?"

"Yes."

Nodding, that narrowed the places they've been down to a mere 200 places. "Is this place important to our relationship?"

"Yes; this is your last one Popstar. Make it count." Gia teased.

He had two places in his mind. "Did I surprise you big time at this place?"

"Yes, yes you did." She laughed. "Any guesses?"

He leaned over, placing a kiss on her lips. "You're taking me to the base."

"How? What? Why?" She stammered causing him to laugh. "How did you figure it out?"

He rose his eyes in elation. "A gentleman never tells."

She snorted in laughter at his excuse. "Tell me how you figured it out."

"The only place I've really truly surprised you is when I came to the base." The train came to a stop, the two stepped off heading to buy their tickets for their next train. "So why are we going to the base?"

Gia smiled. "I've seen your job up close and personal but you haven't really seen mine. I figured I'd let you see what I do on a daily basis."

"I know you work on the bombers." He started watching her shake her head.

Quickly purchasing their tickets, Gia thanked the attendant before following Louis to their new platform. "Everyone knows I work on the bombers but I want you to see what else I do. If you don't want to do it, we can do something else. I thought you'd like to see my job at a local level instead of being in the dark."

"No. I love that you want to show me your job. I've always wanted but didn't think you could actually talk about it." He paused. "After you got kidnapped, I got more curious about your job. What could you do that would put you in that much danger?"

Gia smiled. "The job itself isn't dangerous. It's just where the job takes me is dangerous."

"I'm excited to see the aspects of your job." Pulling her into his embrace, he kissed her slowly. "I love that you planned this and went through the trouble."

She kissed him back. "I want to give you a piece of mind with my job and if this is going to do it then I'm more than happy to do it."

The two boarded the train, getting settled before talking quietly about everything and anything under the sun. He was thrilled to hear her giggles ring out as he told her about a pressing interviewer they had encountered the week prior. That was a sound he wasn't sure he would ever get tired of.

An hour later

"So this is my home away from home." Pushing open the door to her little room, Gia grinned at Louis.

He stepped into the room and nodded. "Looks quaint. Lots of photos of you and me. Scouring the internet again for photos of us?"

"You know it." She grinned. "Your fan girls are only too happy to post photos of us together."

Louis took one more look around the room, offering his hand to Gia. "You're funny. You often have your camera out while we are on dates."

"You caught me. Ready to go to the next part?" She asked taking his hand, pulling him from the room. Locking the door, the two headed downstairs before heading out to the sunny day.

Louis looked around the surroundings, taking in everything. "So it's 8:30am. Where would you be on a normal day?"

"Typically I'd already be in the bomber facility. Since it's a Monday, I'd be in an early morning meeting with all the leads." Gia sighed. "Since I've been forced to half my time on base, Drew has been taking on those meetings."

Due to cutbacks with budgets, Gia's position had been reduced to 30 hours a week. She would typically work three 10 hour days thus her time on base limited. She shook her head thinking about her job's situation.

Pulling her closer to him, Louis kissed her forehead. "I know it hurts baby but you love this job and isn't some aspect of the job better than none of it?"

"Yea but ...." Gia shook her head.

He grinned. "No buts. You love this job and some aspect of it is better than anything else. Besides, at any point you're unhappy, you can walk away, Damsel."

"I know." He saw her roll her eyes at him. "You're right."

Louis smirked. "Can you repeat that?"

"Shut up." She smacked him shaking her head. "Come on."

Walking across the campus, Gia pointed out various landmarks and told him stories of what famous and not so famous things had happened there. He was laughing as they entered the bomber facility.

"Well look what the cat dragged in." Drew smirked, standing on a ladder looking at the bomber in front of him. "What are you doing here baby girl?"

Walking closer to the bomber, Gia ran her hand over the side of the airplane. "Brought the boy here to see the base and show him what I do on a daily basis. Louis, this is Drew; Drew, this is Louis."

"Nice to meet you man." Drew hopped down the ladder, holding his hand out for Louis to grab. "Feels like I already know you from the way this one talks about you."

Louis smirked. "Same. Your name is often brought up at the flat."

"So what are you showing him exactly?" Drew smirked.

Patting the side of the bomber, Gia smirked in Louis' direction. "Louis wants to know exactly about our job so I'm showing him."

"What do you mean exactly?" Louis' voice wavered a bit causing Gia and Drew to chuckle.

Walking to stand in front of her boyfriend, Gia grinned. "How would you like to go up in a bomber today?"

"What?"

Drew laughed causing Gia's smirk to widen. "How about I take you for the ride of your life, Popstar? Come on."

"Gia! Seriously?"

Taking his hand, she smiled. "I got it cleared. Well you just have to meet the corporal's daughters but other than that, you got clearance. You gonna chicken out on me?"

"Never." The grin was hard to wipe off Louis' face. "You're really gonna fly me around?"

She nodded, grasping his hand. "Come on Pooks. We've got an open sky to go visit. You coming Drew?"

The trio walked out to the airfield, prepping both the bomber and Louis for the flight. They quickly got Louis suited up as Gia pulled her personalized suit on. "You cannot freak out on me, Popstar. I know what I'm doing and you've got to trust me. Think you can do that?"

"Of course, always." Louis smirked. Gia double checked every square inch of the suit that currently encased Louis' body. "How are you feeling Soldier?"

Loving the way the old nickname rolled off his tongue, Gia leaned over and kissed him. "Good. Excited for you to get up in the skies with me."

Pointing up the ladder, Gia nodded in her boyfriend's direction. "I'll help you buckle up once you're settled. You don't have any controls so you just get to sit back and enjoy the view. Leave all the piloting to me."

Walking up the ladder, Louis got settled looking up at at his girlfriend smirking. "You are enjoying this way too much!"

"I am Popstar." She grinned. "Is that belt too tight?"

"No but you didn't need an excuse to touch the goods." He whispered watching her cheeks grow rosy red.

Smacking him, Gia shook her head. "That's enough from the peanut gallery."

"You ready for this Italia?" Lou smirked holding tight to the bar in front of him.

She laughed getting into her own seat. "As ready as I'll ever be. Are you ready to go loop de loop?"

"Loop de loop?" He gulped, his eyes widening.

Snapping her belt into place, Gia smirked. "I was watching an old interview of yours and you told someone that the plane is going to go loop de loop when it took off. So now you have that glorious opportunity now."

"Gia no!"

Hearing the fear in his voice, Gia shook his head. "No loop de loop? How about a barrel roll? Or a nose dive?"

"You're evil!"

She simply laughed, pushing buttons to start the plane. "Hold onto your hat Popstar!"

Rolling out to the runway, Gia was in her mode. Louis, however, was holding onto his hat scared of what his girlfriend had in store.

Five hours later

"So any loop de loops?"

The boys along with their better halves were sitting around the couple's kitchen table. Cups of tea were distributed and anxious breaths were held waiting to hear of Louis and Gia's travels to the base.

"Yes there were loop de loops, barrels rolls and nose dives." Gia had managed to shave ten years off his life by scaring him.

Gia smirked over her tea cup. "You should have heard him scream!"

"Giovanna you promised!" He whined causing the guys to howl with laughter.

Niall chuckled. "How was it being up there with her? Nothing but open skies?"

"It was amazing. The views were incredible. Overall it was a cool experience except when Gia made me think I was going to die!" Louis shook his head, glaring in his girlfriend's direction.

Holding her hands up innocently, Gia smiled. "You weren't going to die Popstar. Stop being so overly dramatic! You were in very capable hands the entire time we were in flight."

"Did you just go over base or did you fly elsewhere?" Tricia asked watching Mollie play with Socks, the little girl’s laughter filling the room.

Louis' eyes lit up. "She flew over London. It was pretty cool to see the buildings from high up instead of the ground."

"Uhhhh the view was all right." Gia shrugged, hearing everyone laugh.

Scarlett shook her head laughing at her friend. "The view was just all right? I think the view would be pretty spectacular."

"I think I was more excited to see Louis' reaction to everything than really taking in the view." Gia shook her head. "I think he overused the word 'Oh My Goodness'."

Everyone laughed causing Mollie to leave Socks and climb up in Louis' lap. "Uncle Lewie?"

"Yes my fairy princess?"

Mollie's face lit up at the mentioning of being a princess. "Is auntie Gia leaving us?"

Silence fell over the group. They all had the same question and after May none of them wanted to see her go anywhere. "No baby I'm not going anywhere anytime soon. Actually, I have news about that."

"What kind of news? Good news?" Liam looked hopeful as Louis smirked.

Gia nodded smoothing Mollie's hair back. "I talked to my supervisors and starting the beginning of December I'm done traveling. I'm staying at the base as the consultant; no longer the the lead engineer. Drew is taking over for me."

"So what does that mean?" Tricia asked pulling Mollie onto her lap.

Looking over at Louis, who grinned brightly, Gia smiled. "That means I'm on base three days and home four days. No more international travel. Basically it's a desk job with some face time with the bombers. This is the first step in me essentially retiring from the navy."

"Does that mean what I think it means?" Danielle bounced in her chair looking at Louis with a bright smile.

Louis shook his head. "No no no. She would have my head if I ask her that. Not yet but soon."

"I would have your head if you ask me what?" Gia asked eyes raised in curiosity.

Glaring at the three women that surrounded him, Louis turned to Gia with a smile. "Nothing you need to worry about turkey."

"Uh huh sure." Taking a sip of her tea, Gia locked eyes with her boyfriend. "I'm assuming I'll find out at some point?"

Louis merely smirked and nodded. "But not yet." He added.

The two relaxed with friends both glad for the upcoming days, weeks, months and years they had together.

#dancerlittle #1DFF #SOUL #Chapter 9

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