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ageofhearingloss · 1 year

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Who Are You Now Pt. 3 ⎮Danny Wagner x Reader

A/N: hiiii my lovey doves! i just wanted to say a huge gimongous thank you for all of the recent love on this series; it means way more than you could ever possibly know and you all are so near and dear to my heart!! part 3 is here, finally! there's still quite a lot of angst, but this time there's more gratification ;) this chapter contains explicit sexual content so GO AWAY if you are a minor! please! (also there's a silly little jab at king dave welcsh but don't get it twisted, i love him and ttwf more than life itself so it's all in good fun)

this very special chapter is dedicated to a very special POPPY!!! americas sweetheart @gold-mines-melting may or may not make an appearance in this part, you're just gonna have to read to find out!

(pssst, read part 2 first)

pairing: danny wagner x female!reader

warnings: angst, alcohol consumption, brief mentions of smoking, 18+ GRAPHIC SEXUAL CONTENT, minors DNI!! shoo shoo!! unprotected sex (please be safe, yall!), language, dirty talk, choking and a little breath play, fingering (fem receiving), slight degradation, spitting, some playful hitting, and i thiiiink that's it but please please please tell me if i forgot something

word count: ~11k (so sorry)

summary: you and your best friend have just moved to a new city and spontaneously meet a group of handsome young strangers during a night out. you hit it off with one of them in particular, but are left wondering if you are just friends or if there’s something more on the horizon.

The passage of time was completely lost to you as you sat atop a stool at your kitchen island. How long had you been sitting there? Minutes? Hours? Right now, your brain only knew two things: Danny had kissed you, and he left you without saying a word. Your heart took up residence in your stomach and your palms were slick with sweat. Questions running marathons through your mind. Not being able to complete one thought before a new, louder one interrupted.

This is exactly what I wanted, so why am I freaking out?

You cradled your head in your hands as you rested your elbows on the cool countertop, digging your palms into your eye-sockets as you tried desperately to settle the butterflies flitting around your gut. The kiss had been showstopping, akin to ones you watched on the television when you were younger causing you to dream of the love you would have once you were all grown up. Thinking about his fingers running through your hair, breath warm against your mouth, it sent you tumbling further into the pit of anxiety-induced nausea.

You vaguely heard the front door open and slam, knowing Natalie and Jake were returning with breakfast in tow, but you couldn’t bring yourself to greet them with your usual cheery persona.

“Y/n!” Natalie sang from the entryway, “Did you know Jake wears prescription sunglasses? That’s why he wears them inside! I always thought he was just a prick-”

“Nat, that’s a trade secret!” he called after her, his tone full of scolding sarcasm.

They bumbled into the kitchen, Jake carrying a tray of four coffees (one for Dan if he still happened to be at your place), Nat clutching a giant brown paper bag filled with bagels, the early morning excitement filling the air until her eyes landed on you.

“Oh, shit.” Jake watched her halt in the middle of the kitchen, her mood falling immediately, as he slowly shifted his eyes from her to where you sat.

“Damn…”

You lifted your head to take them both in, face flushed and eyes wide with panic.

“Honey, what happened?” Nat set the bagels onto the island in front of her, shifting to take the coffee from Jake’s clutches before climbing into the bar stool next to you. She began rubbing reassuring circles into your back as you let your head fall into your hands once more, shooting her eyes between Jake and the stairs, a silent request for him to give you two some privacy. He nodded his understanding, giving you a quick sympathetic glance that you were unaware of.

“I’m, uh, gonna go take a shower,” he announced. “Holler if you need me.”

The stair creaked underneath his feet, indication that he was no longer in the room and with that, you lifted your head once again to meet Nat’s gaze.

“That bad, huh?”

“Not even!” Your arms shot up in exclamation, causing her hand to retreat from your back. “I mean, I don’t even know!”

She waited patiently for further explanation.

“Nat… he fucking kissed me.”

A giant smile of delight made its way to her face as she clapped her hands together, but it was lost all too soon when she realized there was no chance of you celebrating alongside her.

“Okay… so why is this a bad thing? Isn’t this what you wanted?”

You shifted on your stool to directly face her and let a controlled sigh leave your lungs. The first steady breath you’ve managed since the entryway fiasco.

“Of course it’s what I want, it’s just… We were gonna talk and then he had to go to work so there was no time and-” you closed your eyes in an attempt to unscramble your thoughts, “He kissed me and then just left without saying a single thing.”

“He left?”

You nodded, explaining the whole scenario to your best friend. She listened intently, asking appropriate questions here and there, offering her sage wisdom to help talk you through it. She advised that even though the ball is technically still in his court, that perhaps you should take initiative and be the one to reach out to him. “If you don’t, who knows how much longer you’ll be waiting. Lord knows he’s made you wait long enough.” Of course, she was right. But your stomach churned at the thought of now having to confront the kiss he bestowed upon you on top of the conversation you were already planning to have.

The conversation you two were having had drifted to a completely separate topic; you and Nat were able to talk about anything and everything. You were just beginning to feel better, the latte beginning to wake you up from your mostly sleepless night, as your phone began vibrating on the counter next to the stove. You leaped off your stool instantaneously and grabbed your phone to check the caller ID.

Daniel.

“Oh fuck,” you whispered, “it’s Dan. What the fuck do I do?”

“Answer it! Maybe he wants to talk!”

Your hand was shaking, palms impossibly sweatier than they had been before as you swiped a finger across the screen.

“Hey, Dan-”

“Hey angel, I don’t have a ton of time, I’m just pulling up to the shop-”

“Angel?” You blinked.

You were met with silence from the other end.

“Sorry... I- I just forgot to mention earlier that tonight is Dave’s release show for the band's EP. We’re all on the guest list, including Nat. I’ll send you money for an Uber, and text you the address of the venue once I get inside the shop. Just meet us there at 7.”

You couldn’t believe these were the words that were being spoken to you. Was this not the man who had slammed you against the wall and devoured you not even an hour ago?

“Uh, yeah okay. That sounds good. Anything specific I should wear?” The boys very frequently collaborated on their outfits when you all went out together, and more often than not, you and Nat were the outliers of whatever vibe they were trying to go for that night.

“You look good in anything, so I’m sure whatever you pick out will be great.”

Your brain was cursing your heart as you tried to fight the smile creeping across your face.

“I gotta run though, I’m already a little late. I’ll see you later tonight! Bye, y/n.”

Before you could say your goodbye in its entirety, the line disconnected. You pulled your phone away from your ear, mouth slightly agape as you cartoonishly blinked at Natalie, unable to form words for a couple moments.

“Looks like we’re going to a show tonight.”

~~~~~~

“So he really didn’t mention the kiss?” Nat called from the bathroom, putting the finishing touches on her effortlessly beachy waves.

“Not a peep.”

Sat in front of your vanity in your bedroom, you were finalizing your look, too. Your own hair sat high atop your head in a loose, messy bun, not having it in you to be bothered to do something special with it. You pulled out a few tendrils to frame your face, and then applied a quick coat of mascara. The look for tonight was minimal; you knew you’d be out late, and you wanted to save your future self from the trouble of trying to scrub off a full face of makeup at 4am.

Getting ready to go out was a therapeutic experience for you and Nat; the two of you would even go far enough to say that it was more fun than the night out itself. A cheap beer was sweating rings onto the top of your vanity, and even though the music was blasting through the halls of your apartment, you could still hear Nat singing to herself from the bathroom. You had nearly forgotten the stress you had been under only hours prior, and you were eternally grateful. After all, tonight was a big night for Dave and his buddies, and you wanted to be a supportive friend. That wouldn’t be possible if your head was drowning in thoughts of Daniel.

“You sure this looks okay?”

Nat appeared in the doorway of your bedroom, hair cascading over her shoulders and down her back in long, loose tendrils. She wore a black denim dress that was perfect for any occasion paired with her trusty set of Doc Martens. You turned your body to look her way, already nodding enthusiastically before your gaze fully fell on her. After volleying a variety of comments back and forth, ensuring that the other looked great and didn’t need to change, you stood from the vanity and smoothed your dress. You decided on a deep red slip dress; it was loose and didn’t cling to your curves, but left your arms and legs exposed; you didn’t know if dancing would be a part of the night's festivities, but you wanted to wear something that’d be appropriate, just in case.

Walking over to your closet, you pulled on an old pair of tall, beat up cowboy boots. The mockery never ceased whenever you wore them, but you’d be damned if you weren’t going to seize the opportunity now that you lived in a climate where they were part of everyday attire. Nat peeked into the closet as you slid them on, snickering before you threw her a warning glare, shrugging a simple bag over your shoulder.

“Ready?” you questioned.

She beamed, “Ready. The Uber’s gonna be here in a couple minutes.”

~~~~~~

You’d be lying if you said that your nerves hadn’t made their reappearance on the drive to the concert. You had kept a short leash on your brain, not allowing it to wander too far, but now you were worried about seeing Dan after what happened this morning; would he acknowledge it? Ignore it? Worst of all, was he going to act weird? Thankfully, you ran out of time to let yourself begin to question how the night would unfold as the car screeched to a halt at the curb in front of the venue, seeing that your four men, and a mystery woman, were waiting patiently for you outside of the front doors. You studied the woman briefly before getting out of the car; she was stunningly beautiful, coffee-colored hair and piercing green eyes, her features nearly feline. She was chatting away with the twins, bubbly, outspoken, and invested in the conversation with genuine interest.

She has that same warming smile Josh has.

Adjusting the silk of your dress, you climbed out of the car, taking a deep breath before stepping to the side to leave enough room for Natalie to get out. It was Sam who recognized your presence first, that goofy grin of his displayed on his face as he began sauntering over to you, causing his brothers to turn and follow suit.

“Oh mama, you look great!” Josh exclaimed once he was in front of you, grabbing your hand while lifting his arm up to give you a little twirl. Every ounce of stress and anxiety you were feeling in the car instantly seeped away from your muscles once you stood in front of your friends. Jake had immediately flung his arm around Nat’s waist to pull her in for a quick kiss, and after you said hi to him and Sam and were out of Josh’s clutches, you let yourself finally look at Dan. His eyes were twinkling and smile shining bright, exactly how you always remembered him from the very first night you met. He sidestepped around Josh and pulled you into a tight hug, hands slightly bunching the material of your dress around your waist. Breathing in the musky scent of him helped focus your thoughts, reminding you that you had nothing to worry about. After all, he was one of your closest friends, and it’d take more than a kiss to mess that up. You’d decided that tonight would not be the appropriate time to talk about what transpired that morning, and with that you were determined to have a good time. If Daniel wanted to bring up the kiss, so be it, but you did not want to ruin an otherwise celebratory night with a conversation that had the potential to end in catastrophe.

Once you pulled out of his arms, you made your way over to meet the girl that was at Josh’s side. She was already beaming at you, and you couldn’t help but return it, finding that not only her smile was similar to Josh’s, but she had an equally inviting aura. Josh was speaking before you had the chance to let words fly.

“Y/n! I want you to meet someone-” he was interrupted by a playful nudge to his shoulder, the girl chuckling beside him.

“Ever the gentleman,” she grinned as she stuck her hand out past him. “I’m Poppy.”

You clasped her hand between yours without a second thought, “I’m y/n.” You shook it gently before playfully asking, “So you’re with Josh?”

“That’s right, mama,” Josh cut in, throwing his arm around her shoulder and placing a chaste kiss to her temple, “you snooze, you lose.” You rolled your eyes and laughed at his comment as he punctuated his words with a wink.

“Where’s he been hiding you away all this time?” You returned your attention back to Poppy who remained snug under his arm. She explained that she and Josh have known each other since high school, but had both gone separate ways for college only to have found each other again in the city of music. You learned she was also a musician, traveling around with numerous bands whenever any of them needed a resident saxophonist. “I just got back from a long stretch of touring a couple days ago,” she nodded thoughtfully, “I love it, but I am so happy to be home. Josh has told me a lot about all of you and I’m excited to finally meet everybody for myself.”

Greetings began to die down, Natalie and Poppy immediately bonding over their affinity for the twins, and soon you were being corralled inside by an anxious Daniel who informed you the show would be starting momentarily.

The venue was stunning and cozy; an inviting environment that hosted the most talented up-and-coming musicians Nashville had to offer. Your little posse found a comfortable patch of standing room to the left of the stage, Sam insisting that you all didn’t drift too far from the bar (“I really hate spilling my beer on myself when I try to get back to my spot”).

The house lights faded to black just a minute later. Dan stood close to your side, whispering to you the names of the band members as they made their way on stage. Of course you knew Dave, but he identified Alex as the guitarist, Chris on drums, and Kyle playing the bass. You nodded your understanding, trying to focus on the words he was saying rather than the sensation of his breath hot against the shell of your ear; it was going to be a very long night if you couldn’t get your emotions under control. But instead of trying to stuff your feelings down like you had been for months now, you let yourself be distracted by Dave’s voice, losing yourself to the music.

~~~~~~

He was mesmerized by the way you moved. He’s watched you dance plenty of times before, but the way your body moved always had the ability to steal the air clean from his lungs. The way you let your eyes fall closed and the sway of your hips. How your dress would ride up ever so slightly whenever you lifted your arms. The lights faintly glittering off the sheen of the gloss that painted your lips. The lips that he had finally pressed his own to that morning.

The guilt he felt for ignoring the show was only slight; he was too entranced by you, and he could not stop from slotting an arm around your waist, letting himself sway along with you. When you felt his firm hold around you, you fluttered your eyes open and lifted your chin to give him a smile that set his skin aflame. The tilt of your lips made him realize that he would level the earth for just a chance to experience that smile again, and knowing that he was the recipient of such angelic beauty made his heart jump to his throat. He retreated his hand only to turn his attention to your hair, to the messy bun adorning it. Selfishly, he wanted to see the way your waves danced down your back and how they would sway in time with your movements, so with one fluid motion, he gently pulled the elastic from your hair, letting it fall around your shoulders before he smoothed it out, letting pieces fall to frame your face.

“What’d you do that for?” You questioned with raised eyebrows, just loud enough for him to hear above the music.

Ever quick on his feet, Danny began gathering his own hair high atop his head, securing it with the tie that he had taken from you, “I was getting warm, the hair had to go up.”

A smirk played on your lips, somehow seeing right through his excuse, but let him off the hook as you grabbed his arm, using it as leverage to reach up and whisper in his ear, “So, these guys are essentially a 1975 tribute band?”

You were driving him mad. The scent of your woodsy cologne caused the hair on his arms to stand up on end, throat bobbing as he leaned down to retort, “Don’t tell Dave that, it’d go straight to his head.”

Your head lulled back with the sound of a laugh, eyes crinkling at the corners as you let go of Dan's arm, returning your attention to the band as another song climbed to its peak.

With great effort, he finally peeled himself away to glance around at the others in the audience and just as he suspected, he wasn’t the only one enamored with you. He caught the eyes of those who were ogling a little too much, giving them a territorial glare that caused them to embarrassingly return their gaze forward. As much as he loved to show you off, you were his, whether you knew so or not. The way he was indulging in the sight of you felt nearly sinful, but he refused to let the moment go to waste and took inventory of every lock of hair, every freckle, every dimple, committing it all to memory.

Dave’s voice rang in his ears as he returned his attention to the stage,

Take time to figure it out, I love you when I’m honest…

~~~~~~

“Oh my god, y/n! Natalie!” Dave called as he rushed into the mostly vacant house of the venue, the rest of the band trailing hot on his heels. “I’m so happy you guys could make it!” He pulled you two into a simultaneous hug, his hair and chest damp with the sweat he shed on stage.

“You guys were incredible, congrats on the release!” Natalie beamed, your group adding their agreements and affirmations alongside her.

Danny had moved to stand beside you, casually throwing his arm around your shoulders like he had done countless times before as you all chattered in excitement together. Sam and Kyle had drifted to get one more drink, Sam animatedly asking the bassist about some of the riffs he played on stage. At this point in the night, you were completely relaxed, content to be with your friends, old and new, and celebrating such a great accomplishment together.

“Oh shit, let me introduce you guys, sorry,” Dave said in a hurry, gathering up Alex and Chris, leaving Kyle in Sam's clutches. He introduced you to them, you eagerly shaking their hands and making small talk. Chris kept catching your eye, his smile gleaming in the light reflecting off of it. Alex was occupied talking to Poppy and Natalie, asking them questions about where they were from and what music they were into, as Chris directed his attention back to you and Dan, still snug at your side.

“You two look good together,” he grinned at you, “I didn’t know Dan was seeing anybody.”

A blush crept to your cheeks but before you could think of a response, Dan was already on it.

“I’m not,” he replied flatly. “We’re just friends.”

What?

You thought you were blacking out considering how quiet it suddenly got around you, but rather your friends had stopped their conversations once they heard those words leave Daniel’s mouth. Sure, neither of you had any time to talk about what you meant to each other, and saying that you were just friends saved everyone involved from a long, awkward explanation, but he could have just left it that you two were not a couple.

There was a period of charged silence, as if your thoughts were painted above your head in bright, neon lettering for all to read. That familiar rush of rage flooded your system, the feeling that you had tried so hard to quell during your movie night the evening prior. You were back to square one; you needed to talk to Danny. The show was over. You’d find a quiet place in the bar where you all were headed to finally say your piece. Glancing down at your shoes, you could feel their eyes on you. Could feel the weight of words unsaid. But thankfully, Chris soon rolled off Dan’s words with a nonchalant “Oh, my bad. Well maybe you two should be.” He waved off the comment dismissively and joined the rest of the group standing behind you two; it was clear the conversation had died right then and there and it was time to head to the “real party,” as Jake called it.

The group divided up as you headed to the bar; you insisted that you, Natalie, Poppy, and Josh shared a ride while the others found their own way there. Josh put up no fight leaving his brothers, explaining that he hardly got a second away from them anyways. You needed a slight reprieve from everyone, knowing that these three were the ones who would not contribute more to the irritation that was present in your mood. Nat kept close to your side; she knew better than to mention what had been said, but offered her comfort in the source of her presence, something that soothed you no matter what. You assumed Josh had filled Poppy in, for she gave you a sympathetic smile that suggested she knew all too well what you were feeling. You made a mental note to have a stern talk with Josh later about if he ever fucked anything up with Poppy, you’d mount him over your fireplace.

You sat in the front seat of the car, letting the other three babble away as you glared out the window, eyes chasing the passing cars. If you were honest with yourself, you wanted to go home. It seemed like impending doom awaited you at the bar, and you weren’t sure if you were prepared to handle it. But you knew the option of making a swift exit was long gone, so you decided that you’d attempt to let a couple drinks melt away your nerves. If not, they’d at least serve as liquid courage for you to face your fears.

“You gonna stay here all night, or come with us?” Josh clapped his hand on your arm, pulling you from your thoughts with a knowing smile as you glanced at him over your shoulder. You nodded, your smile not reaching your eyes, and then turned to step out of the car, unsure about where your night was headed.

~~~~~~

Thankfully, the night had unfolded similarly to any other. You found yourself in a seedy bar surrounded by your favorite people, drinks flowing freely and conversation light and easy. The bar the band had chosen had a variety of games; dart boards lined the walls and one lone ping-pong table stood in the corner, highlighted by a flickering stained glass lamp hanging from the ceiling. Josh and Poppy had made their way over to it early in the night, their competitive streaks equally matched as you all watched a tournament unfold. They had remained there all night, heated words spewing back and forth and sweat dripping from their foreheads. The rest of you took turns refilling their drinks when one of you noticed they were low, all of you beyond amused by the unbelievable seriousness they both shared when it came to the tabletop sport.

The other nine of you drifted towards one of the many dart boards, laughing and yelling more than throwing many darts. Sam had the worst aim any of you had ever seen, causing flowery insults to fly amongst the brothers. Everything felt great, normal even, except for the fact that Dan seemed to be avoiding you. He was conservative with his words, his touches, conversing with Dave and Sam much more than you, but tried to convince yourself that you were fine with it.

At the beginning of the night, his lack of attention made your heart pang with a hint of sadness; now after a few drinks, it felt like a game. You rarely instigated; you thought these petty games were childish and never helped the issue at hand, but you couldn’t stop yourself tonight. He would talk to you, and you were determined to make sure of that. Your plan was simple: jealousy.

You latched onto Chris for the night; he was charming, easy-going, and possessed a smile that lit up the whole room. The two of you hit it off swimmingly, finding out you had plenty in common with each other and feeling delighted in his company. You hated that your intention was double-edged; you did want to get to know Chris better, but you were also too aware of Daniel’s stare burning through the back of your head.

It’s working.

To deepen the blow, you agreed to be on Chris’ team for darts, Danny looking confused since the two of you were always a pair when it came to teaming up against others. You answered his expression with a wink of your own, turning your attention back to Chris as he began his throws. You put on your best show, widening your eyes just a smidge, being a hint more bubbly and giggly, things that would fall unnoticed by the rest of the crowd but not by the one person you wanted to realize.

Once your points hit zero, Chris landing a double and winning you both the game, you threw your arms around his neck excitedly, him twirling you around in celebration. Jake and Natalie cursed their loss as Chris returned you to your feet, Sam already picking teams for the next round, securing Dan for himself.

“Actually, guys, I’m gonna step out for a smoke.” His voice was jarring, considering you’d hardly heard it all night. “Daniel, you hardly smoke,” Sam complained, knowing his so-called dart partner was a great throw. “Come with me, y/n.” You spun to see Dan standing close behind you, his expression undeniably serious as he tenderly grabbed you by your hand. He swiftly led you away from the group before you could object, only having a quick moment to throw Natalie a glance of confusion as you grew farther away, soon enveloped by the sea of other bar patrons.

~~~~~~

“Dan- Dan! What are you doing?”

“Just.. come on,” he said through gritted teeth, the gentle hand he had previously offered you now a vise-like grip wrapped around your wrist.

You were on his heels heading through the boisterous crowd at the bar, and realized quickly that you were not heading towards the front door where you were told you’d be going. He had informed the group that you two were going out for a smoke, but with how he was holding you paired with the alarming speed he was ushering you through the crowd, you knew that was the last place you were going.

Oh, he’s pissed.

You’ve rarely seen Danny upset, but when you had, it was frightening. His eyes were burning, all playfulness and serenity stripped from his demeanor. Only dominant fury raged through his system, and that is exactly what you wanted. You smiled to yourself even though you knew you were in deep shit, never have been on the receiving end of his anger. Your plan of riling him up played out perfectly, but now the steam that you swore was radiating off of his head had you questioning otherwise. Did you push him too far?

He pulled you towards a set of stairs that led down to where the bathrooms were located and your stomach twisted. You hesitated slightly in defiance but was matched with a quick tug on your wrist, signifying that you needed to continue moving. With that, you gave up the fight, following him down the dimly lit staircase, nearly tripping over your own feet in the process. Landing at the bottom, you watched Dan frantically look down the hall, illuminated by dingy lights and neon signs, only to see that there were plenty of people in line for both single stall bathrooms. He cursed under his breath, hand still wrapped around your wrist, and hauled you past the lines of curious onlookers. His stare was unbelievably dark, all caramel drained from his irises. And it excited you beyond belief.

You knew what this looked like, the two of you running hand-in-hand to find a private place, and thinking about it caused a pink flush to grace your cheeks, but beyond that, you couldn’t find it in you to care. The lingering effects of the alcohol (albeit you were feeling pretty sober by this point in the night), the adrenaline from the show, all of it made you more eager to be with him. You let your gaze fall onto his back, your hair falling slightly to shield your face from any bystanders as you raced past them. The end of the hallway veered right, and soon you were thankfully out of the line of sight from others. You couldn’t fight the faint smile that graced your lips as he pulled you to every doorway lining the hall, checking the door handles with the hand that wasn’t chained to you. Most were locked or marked “Employee Only,” but soon he found a supply closet that allowed him to enter.

Dan yanked you into the closet causing you to stumble forward over your feet and by the time you caught your balance, he had already shut and locked the door from the inside. You stood in the center of the room, cramped and damp with the smell of wet mops and bleach. Switching on the light via the string hanging from the ceiling, you finally turned towards Dan who was now leaning his back against the locked door.

You stared in silence at each other for what felt like minutes, your arms crossed over your chest as you watched his gaze never lighten. He was the picture of stoic beauty, even if his expression should have sent you running for the hills.

As much as you were hoping for him to break the silence, you decided it was time to end your standoff.

“So… what?”

“You know what, y/n, don’t play fucking dumb.”

This is going to be fun.

“I really don’t know what you’re talking about, care to enlighten me?”

He shoved off the wall, stalking towards you with lion-like movements. His eyes hadn’t left yours since you entered the dim room, and usually this extended period of eye contact would make you shy away, but right now it was only contributing to the pool of wetness you could feel collecting between your thighs.

“Why were you flirting with Chris?”

“Who said I was flirting?” He stood directly in front of you now, and you lifted your chin slightly in defiance as your eyes seared into his. “And why do you even care since we’re “just friends.””

He took one more step closer, pressing his torso against your crossed arms.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he started condescendingly, “You think I can’t tell when you’re flirting? When you’re all hot and bothered?” His eyes flickered to your lips as he spoke, wetting his own with his tongue.

Watching his movements caused you to clench your thighs together in search of any hint of friction or relief, and even though you tried your hardest to be subtle, his eyes shot down to note your fidgeting. Only then did a lupin smirk appear on his face.

He slowly dragged his eyes up your body, lingering on every curve, to meet your stare again, bringing a hand to grip your jaw as he tutted at you in disapproval.

“You’ve been playing with me all night, haven’t you, angel?” His hand on your jaw tightened as he tilted your head back slightly, bringing his lips inches away from yours.

He says that as if he hasn’t been playing with me for months.

You dropped your arms away from your chest as you backed away out of his grip, your own face falling as you watched his eyes flit between yours in a hint of concern and confusion. His arrogant smirk was wiped clean off his face.

“You think I’m playing with you? Are you going to tell me what the hell you’ve been doing for the past couple months?” Your eyebrows shot up in question as your breath quickened. Yes, you were toying with him tonight, but only in retaliation for his actions towards you.

“I feel like I’ve been going crazy thinking about all the times you’ve led me to believe that this,” you motioned between your bodies, “that we were something more, but it’s always radio silence from you.” Your hands were balled into fists at your sides, tears threatening to breach your eyes. “Did this morning not mean anything to you? I’ve been racking my brain all day as to what I could’ve done to make you act like it didn’t happen.” You dropped your chin to your chest now, forcing back the tears that you refused to let fall. “I just don’t get why you haven’t said anything.”

You were expecting his tone to shift, for him to comfort you like you were used to, but instead he reciprocated your frustration.

“Why I haven’t said anything?” His back straightened as his eyes widened in shock. “Why haven’t you said something? I thought it was very clear that the ball was in your court. I fucking kissed you for god’s sake! How can you say it meant nothing to me?”

You darted your head back up to look at him. “You’re kidding, right? The pet names, your “friendly” touches, that one night at Jake’s,” you spat at him. “The fucking kiss? You initiate these things and then leave me in the dark immediately after! What the fuck am I supposed to think?”

He was struck speechless for a moment, his eyes softening ever so slightly as he stepped forward to close the distance you had put between you two.

His voice shifted to a domineering whisper, “I’m fucking scared, y/n, is that what you want to hear?” Even though his voice was softer, his mood hadn’t changed. “I know how I feel about you, and I’ve known it since the first night at Mickey’s. I waited until I knew my feelings were true, but I fucked it up along the way.” He dropped his forehead to yours and allowed his eyes to close. “I’m terrified to lose you, to do something-”

“Just fucking do anything, Daniel,” your voice at full volume. You were growing impatient and increasingly more upset by his confession. “I’m sick of waiting around for you to decide what you want from me.”

He lifted his head back up, his expression telling you that he was taken aback by your tone. You two stood and stared at each other for another long moment, storm clouds of tension swirling around the room.

He moved to grip your jaw like he had minutes before, “Do anything?” The fire in his eyes returned although there was a new glint of mischievous darkness.

“Please.” Your voice came out as a shallow whisper.

“Be careful what you wish for, angel.”

With that, he crashed his lips into yours, slowly backing you up against the far wall of the closet, never breaking contact the entire way there. Your back finally hit the cold concrete with a slight thud, the pressure of his weight against you caused a faint whimper to escape your throat. It was quiet enough that you were sure he didn’t hear it, but his chuckle against your lips confirmed that he knew just how badly he was riling you up. He let go of his grip on your chin in favor of snaking both of his hands into your hair, similarly to what he had done this morning.

Unlike this morning, however, it was you who was fighting for dominance. You intertwined your arms behind his neck, bringing him as close to you as possible as you lightly swiped your tongue against his lips, a silent demand for him to open for you. He gave you access for a split second, letting you fall into a false sense of control, before giving your hair a sharp yank that snapped your head back, causing you to completely fall open to him instead. Holding your hair in his fists, he pulled back from your mouth, looking at your already kiss-swollen lips and smudged mascara. Your jaw was slack as you gazed down the tip of your nose at him, chest heaving in a desperate attempt to get any air to your lungs.

This side of Daniel was new territory for you; he had never given you the impression that he had a dominant streak, although you did realize that his brothers often fell in line whenever he commanded them to. It excited you beyond comprehension, knowing that you were still learning new things about the man you’ve spent so much time with.

His hand lightly gripping your throat was what pulled you back from your thoughts and forced you to him. He squeezed the sides of your neck, still allowing you enough room to breathe, while his other hand left the back of your head and started roaming up and down your curves at an agonizing pace.

It was killing you how slowly he was moving. In hopes to relay that message to him, you daringly ground yourself against his body, feeling that his cock was undeniably hard and straining against his jeans, but you were quickly met with a firm squeeze on your hip, pressing you back into the wall. He tutted at you for the second time tonight, shaking his head in disappointment.

“Who knew my sweet girl was so greedy…”

You gave him a set of award-winning doe eyes as both his hold on your throat and your hip tightened, causing him to let loose a shaky breath as you batted your eyelashes. The hand on your hip began traveling down your thigh and underneath your dress, moving dangerously close to where you needed him the most. Your breath hitched in anticipation as he snapped the elastic of your thong, earning you a dark chuckle in return. Dan leaned in next to your ear as his fingers danced along the waistband of your underwear. “Can I touch you?” he whispered, barely loud enough for you to hear. In that moment, he was the soft, caring Daniel you knew, making sure that you felt comfortable in your current situation. His shifts between light and dark sent you reeling, and you were certain you felt droplets of your arousal run down your inner thigh.

Dan withdrew his head from the side of your face as you quickly nodded your approval, not worried if you looked too eager.

“Words, angel. Let me hear what you want.” His grip loosened to grant you the ability to speak clearly and your words tumbled immediately from your lips in a hurried slur.

“You, Dan. Please,” you writhed against his fingers, begging him to venture lower, “I want you.”

The second the words left your mouth, his fingers dug into the sides of your neck once more, somewhat restricting your airflow. He decided to show you an ounce of mercy, letting his index finger trail just below your navel, making you shudder. Your head attempted to fall forward to your chest, despite his restraints, as you felt him trace over your clothed core, ghosting circles right around your clit. No matter what situation the both of you were in, he still insisted on messing with you.

You hissed through your teeth as he pulled your panties to the side, cool air hitting your throbbing heat as he began swiping two of his fingers through your folds.

“Fuck- Jesus Christ, angel, you’re soaked,” he whispered mostly to himself as he directed his gaze down to watch his fingers at work. Somewhere along the way, your dress had been hiked up around your waist, allowing you both front row seats to watch what he was doing. After gliding through your folds and swirling around your clit a couple times, he began teasing your entrance, gathering as much of your slick as he possibly could on his fingers. You groaned when you felt his fingers retreat, only to see him bring his hand up between both of your faces so you could marvel at his handiwork.

“Absolutely filthy,” he glanced from his fingers into your half-lidded eyes with a devilish smirk splayed wide across his mouth. His words could have made you come on the spot; you were not prepared for him to be this vocal- this morning he remained completely silent. But damn, were his words a treat for you to hear. You watched with rapt attention as his fingers glistened, hardly realizing that his other hand had left your throat and traveled up to grip your jaw. He forced your eyes back to his with a tight squeeze on your cheeks. Eyes burning into yours, he brought his fingers to his mouth and slowly licked you off of them, savoring the taste with a satisfied hum. His tongue curling around his digits gave you a clear glimpse as to what he would be able to do if his head was buried between your legs instead.

He pulled his fingers away from his mouth and brought them to yours, resting the pads of his fingertips against your bottom lip. “Open up,” he said, accompanied by another sharp clench around your jaw. Your mouth fell open instantaneously as he rested his fingers along the top of your tongue, and you unabashedly sucked them into your mouth, eyes never leaving his.

“How do we taste together, hm?” His eyelids fluttered at how warm your mouth felt, but he couldn’t bring himself to miss the chance of watching his fingers pump in and out of you. “You’re even sweeter than I imagined you’d be.”

Slowly withdrawing his fingers, you hollowed out your cheeks around them, causing him to curse under his breath. You didn’t dare let your eyes drift closed either as he brought his slippery fingers back down to your clit, the pressure featherlight and mind-numbing. Once again, you pushed yourself against his hand, needing more. Every nerve-ending in your body was burning with white hot flame and he knew it, too; this is exactly how he hoped you would respond to him, and he was determined to take his time with you and draw this pivotal moment out for as long as he possibly could.

This man is going to be the death of me.

You finally relinquished any control you had over your body and allowed your eyes to close, your head tilting back against the concrete wall as you felt him glide one finger inside of you, exhaling a breath that you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. He stilled inside you, scanning your face, amused with how you looked in your already fucked-out state. He admired your beauty: how your lips were still glistening from his fingers, how your eyeliner had drifted to shadow beneath your eyes, how your hair was a tangled mess falling over your shoulders. You were a masterpiece, and he was hell-bent on making sure that you were his and only his for the foreseeable future.

You grew impatient with his finger laying dormant inside of you, so you forced your eyes open to find him staring at you. Once he was caught, he flashed you a cheeky grin and a cocked eyebrow, “Hi, doll,” knowing damn well that you were growing tired of his teasing.

“Please,” you begged again.

He loved making you writhe in his grasp.

“Shit, you sound so pretty when you beg. Please what?”

You brought your hand to cup his length still confined in his pants, and the feeling of him twitching against your fingers brought an entire swarm of butterflies to your stomach. He groaned at the contact, quickly trailing his eyes to see where you were grasping him. You made quick work of popping the button of his jeans loose, tugging the zipper down before his hand left your throat and traveled down to grip your wrist, halting your movements.

“As much as I want your hands on me, angel, we’re taking care of you right now.”

“Danny, I need more. Please, let me have it,” you clenched around his digit that still sat inside you, causing a shudder to ripple through him. If you had been in your right mind, watching him shake would have brought a smile to your face. But right now, all it did was send another flood of wetness to your core.

“Only good girls get what they want, angel, and you’ve been anything but good tonight.”

Your eyes shifted to him as you gazed through your lashes once more, praying to any god out there that he would drop the act and give you what you needed.

“That's not true,” you mumbled out, your voice still hoarse from the hand that was previously around your throat. He brought your hand away from his cock and returned it to your side as he leaned into the crook of your neck, breath hot against your skin.

“Agree to disagree, but why don’t you stop being a selfish brat and show me just how good you can be instead.” He punctuated his words with a sudden curl of his finger, the tip of it tickling that sweet spot deep inside you. You gasped, head falling back again as your mouth hung agape, wondering to yourself if you’ve ever been this turned on in your life. You knew this was a high that you would be chasing for the rest of your life.

His unoccupied hand began trailing up your body, pausing momentarily at your chest to swipe his thumb over your peaked nipple, and then moved on to return it to its rightful place around your neck. You were seeing stars already, that familiar elastic band of pleasure in your lower abdomen threatening to snap at any moment now. He pulled out his finger only to insert another one alongside it, his thumb beginning to rub circles against your bundle of nerves while his fingers got to work inside of you.

“You know, I’ve imagined this more times than I care to admit,” he licked a quick stripe beneath your ear. “I’ve dreamt of how you’d squirm for me.” His fingers quickened their pace, alternating between pumping and curling as he felt your walls beginning to flutter around him. “How you’d react to my mouth, my fingers,” he emphasized his words with an especially mind-altering curl of his fingers as his voice deepened further, “my cock-”

His damn fingers.

Tears were threatening your eyes again as you peered over the edge of what you could tell would be one of the best orgasms you’ve experienced yet. You knew his hand around your neck was a purposeful way to bring this out in you, your heady state making you even more responsive to his touch.

“I’m-” you gasped, trying to find where your words were locked away in your brain, “Dan, I’m close-”

“I know, angel, can feel you squeezing me so tight. Will you be good and give it to me?” The circles on your clit were impeccably fast, “Please, let me see how pretty you are when you come.”

Right then, he released his hold on your throat, the rush of blood to your head sending you careening into oblivion. You let out a pitchy moan of his name as you released around his fingers, bracing yourself with your hands clamped on his arms. He continued his hasty pace, guiding you through your high as he chanted a slew of praises in your ear. Your tears must have finally fallen because his free hand was now cupping your cheek, thumb gently grazing underneath your eye to collect any stray droplets.

He slowed his fingers to a stop only when you began showing signs of overstimulation, and as much as you would have loved for him to continue, to pull another one out of you, you needed his cock inside you. Now.

You forced your eyes open as you collected your breath, although every inhale you took was shallow and unsteady. You were frantic with need already; his fingers had brought you to heights you had only experienced by yourself in your bedroom, and now you were obsessing over the thought of him stretching you out. You let go of his arms, fingers fumbling to find his belt loops but he suddenly stepped out of your grasp. He pulled himself away to stand directly in front of you, causing you to groan in dismay at the loss of his warmth and weight against your body.

“Don’t worry,” he chuckled, “I’ll give you what you want.” He reached out to stroke your cheek. “You really are a needy little thing, aren’t you?” Your breath caught in your throat as he gave you the gentlest of swats against the flesh. “Turn around, hands on the wall.”

You spun around at an alarming speed, still a little dizzy from the come down as you splayed your palms against the concrete. His hands were on you moments later, securing your dress high on your waist once more as he crouched behind you. You were on full display for him, and he was greedily drinking in the sight of you. He let his fingers trace over the swell of your ass, admiring every curve and divot of your body. You truly were an angel in his eyes, and being able to see you, have you, this way made his heart rattle within his chest. He hooked his fingers on the elastic that hugged your hips and pulled your panties down ever so slowly, helping you step out of each leg with a steady hand on your thigh. Unbenounced to you, he took them in his hands and traced the damp spot on them with the tip of a finger before shoving them into his back pocket. You wished you could see what he was doing, but some masochistic part of you was relishing in the anticipation of not knowing his next move.

“Bend a bit lower for me, sweetheart,” he said as he brought his hands back to your ass, spreading you wide open as you obeyed his command. Perhaps you may have felt embarrassed to be this exposed, but in your needy state you were lapping up any and all attention he would give you. You yelped in shock as you felt him spit directly into your pussy, following it immediately with one languid swipe of his tongue through your folds. His mouth was gone all too quickly, replacing his tongue with his fingers as he whispered, “Absolutely gorgeous, angel. All pretty and wet and pink,” he placed a chaste kiss against your ass, “I wonder how you’d feel fluttering around me-”

“Daniel, please. I can’t wait anymore. I need you inside me, I need you to fuck me-” You nearly sobbed out, your thighs beginning to tremble with impatience and your brain running a mile a minute.

“Shhhh, sweetheart, breathe for me,” his hands ran along your thighs to help relax them and steady you. “I’ll give you what you want, you’ve been so good for me.” You glanced over your shoulder then, your brows knit together in need and frustration, but the sight of him knelt behind you made your head calm and all pent-up anxiety vanish. You watched as he rose to his feet and immediately picked up where you had left off on his jeans, working to free himself from the tight denim. He pulled himself out of his briefs, his cock springing up against the trail of hair that ran from his navel to the base of his length. Your mouth watered and your eyes widened at the sheer size of him. It was a known fact that Daniel’s body was sculpted out of marble, a true Grecian god walking amongst mortals, and now you knew that was true about every part of him.

Your throat bobbed as you stared at his length, bigger and thicker than you had pictured, and you knew he would fit snugly inside you. You finally broke your stare away from his cock to look in his eyes, hoping that your silent plea for him to fill you up was clear. Thankfully, he nodded as he gripped himself, giving length a few tight, slow pumps, before bringing the tip of it to trace through your folds.

You exhaled a steady breath, letting your head face forward again and dropping your chin to your chest.

“You ready for me?” He tapped his length against your entrance, punctuating the question. You nodded swiftly, forgetting that he needed your words. You opened your mouth a little too late, his hand quickly creating a ponytail in your hair with his fist, using it to pull you closer to him. His action caused your back to arch and a hiss to escape your lips, the pain on your scalp only increasing your pleasure.

“You know the rules, angel.”

“Yes, yes Danny, I’m ready-” and once the words sprang free, he was inching his way inside you, both of you groaning in unison at the feeling. He moved slowly, pausing when he would hear you hiss as he stretched you only for you to beg him to continue, settling once he filled you completely to the hilt. Making sure that you were okay, he waited as you adjusted to his size, releasing his iron grip on your hair in favor of running his fingers through it. Your walls were pulsating around him, swallowing him further inside you as you relished in how full you felt. He was patient with you which you appreciated, but you were too eager for him to begin moving. Now that you weren’t restrained with his hand in your hair, you fell back forward, returning your hands to the wall.

You took the opportunity the angle provided you to start sliding off his cock, and once he understood what that meant, he slammed back into you, propelling you further forward. One of his hands took purchase on your waist while the other splayed wide across your back as he pulled out of you only to swiftly bury himself to the hilt once more. Your head hung forward, hair cascading around your face like a curtain, swaying in time with his thrusts. He set a harsh, agonizing place, hips hitting hard against your ass as you let your moans fall freely from your mouth. Every stroke of the tip of his cock hit right where you needed it to, and it only took a few short moments for the knot in your stomach to begin tightening once more.

“You feel-” he interrupted his thought with another sharp thrust, “I don’t even know the words to describe how fucking good you feel.” His hand began hurriedly running up and down your back in adoration. “You’re sucking me in so deep, angel.”

All you could manage was a string of whimpers in acknowledgment, your nerves feeling like pins and needles and your vision turning white.

He slowed his pace, causing you to clamp your mouth shut to stop yourself from voicing your complaints due to how desperately close you were to coming, only to feel him clamp a hand on your shoulder, bringing your upper body close to his back once more.

“Open,” he demanded.

With how he was just pounding into you, you assumed he meant your legs, so you widened your stance further only to hear him chuckle darkly in response.

“Very cute, doll. Open your mouth.”

You did as he commanded, letting your jaw fall open as he brought his hand off your shoulder in favor of plunging two fingers back into your mouth. He resumed his quick pace as you hummed around his fingers, withdrawing them all too suddenly and dropping them down to draw incredibly quick circles around your clit.

His name fell from your lips in an agonizing moan, feeling the build-up of your impending orgasm cresting like a tidal wave. You could feel him beginning to twitch inside you, clueing you in that he was close, too. You squeezed your eyes shut, letting yourself completely succumb to his hold on you.

His digits remained on your clit as he pulled out of you quickly, causing a wretched cry to break free from deep within your chest. You had no time to think, let alone complain about the loss of him because his hands were on your hips within seconds, spinning you around to face him and pressing his body flush against yours, your back against that wall once more. He instructed you to jump, giant hands firm underneath your thighs as you wrapped your legs around his hips, crossing your ankles at his back. His strength paired with your back against the wall kept you suspended as he guided his cock back into you, not wasting any time in setting that same mind-numbing pace. He thrusted into you with reckless abandon, much less collected than he had been before as he let his forehead drop to yours, eyes burning into you.

“Wanna watch your face as you come around my cock,” he said through gritted teeth before bringing his lips to yours in a searing kiss. You both were desperate for release and it was evident in your kiss; tongues tangling together, teeth clashing, and before you knew it you were clenching impossibly hard around him, your senses being overridden by the blinding release he was sending you into. Your eyes clamped shut and you pulled away from his mouth as you cried out his name, not caring how loud it left your lips. He continued along with his pace, his composure becoming increasingly more sloppy as his cock swelled inside you.

“W-where do you want me, angel,” he panted in shallow breaths, not being able to hold back much longer.

“I-inside,” words choking in your throat as he jackhammered into you, “I want you inside.”

That was all the confirmation he needed before his head fell back, fingers digging into the flesh of your thighs as a string of curses fell from his lips. He released inside of you with a final thrust, filling you with warm spurts, the feeling dizzying and addicting. He slowed to a halt, bringing his forehead to rest against yours once more as you both came down from your highs, breaths shallow and heavy. You clung to each other as you settled, relishing in the comfort of the other's arms until you felt calm enough to open your eyes, finding his there waiting for you. You pulled him into another kiss, this one short but passionate, allowing your brain time to catch up to the events that had just transpired. Once you were fully in your body again, you chuckled against his lips, causing him to parrot the action. Soon, you two were in a fit of giggles, neither of you able to continue the kiss any longer.

“You know,” you started after your laughter had died down a little, “I’m loving this ‘angel’ business.” You beamed at him, noting the faint sheen of sweat across his forehead.

“Good, cause it suits you,” he said as he placed a kiss against your cheek, simultaneously tapping your thighs to signify he was about to withdraw himself from you.

“Wait-,” your eyes widened, suddenly embarrassed by what you were about to say. He raised his eyebrows to you in question, urging you to continue your thought. “What if I don’t want you to leave just yet.” He bared his teeth to you in a wide smile, laughing at your bashfulness.

“If you think for a second that this was a one time thing, y/n, you’re out of your mind.”

However, he stayed inside you per your request, feeling him slowly soften as his thumb grazed your cheek. Soon, though, your thighs began to shake slightly, both from overstimulation and from keeping you hoisted on his hips, so you braced yourself as he slid out from you, a hiss escaping through his teeth at the feeling. He carefully set you down, making sure that you were on steady feet before releasing his grip on your thighs. He took it upon himself to straighten your dress before tucking himself back in his jeans, and you began to smooth your hair and detangle any snarls that had formed during your activities. You glanced around your feet, trying to find your underwear but coming up short.

“Dan? You seen my panties?” you asked, looking like a dog chasing its own tail as you spun around searching for your lost garment.

“Yeah, I’m taking a souvenir,” he patted his back pocket nonchalantly before giving you a kiss on the top of your head. You playfully pushed him away with a devilish smirk, knowing that he wanted you to feel his come slowly cascading down your thigh, loving the thought of you walking around trying to keep your little rendezvous a secret.

He tilted your chin up with a delicate finger placed beneath your chin before he began swiping a thumb underneath your eyes, eliminating the smudged mascara and eyeliner you knew were evident on the tops of your cheekbones. You followed his eyes as he worked, all too focused on the task he had at hand. It warmed your heart immensely; something so domestic about this innocent moment made all of your earlier questions melt away. You were certain of how he felt for you, regardless of the sex you just had.

“Alright,” he playfully pecked your nose, “all good.” He began turning towards the door before speaking again, “And y/n, I plan on taking you home tonight. We can talk in the morning, but just know you won’t be getting a lot of sleep tonight.” He swiftly unlocked the door and made his way through it, leaving you and the smelly mops in silence.

After taking a few minutes for yourself, replaying every image of Danny back in your mind, you made your way to the bathroom. Thankfully, the line had vanished during the time you spent in the closet, and you were quickly able to clean yourself up further, realizing there wasn’t a whole lot you could do for the evident flush on your face and your swollen lips. But you made your way upstairs anyway after doing the best you could, hoping the poor lighting would hide every piece of evidence you were not able to wipe away.

You found Nat standing at the bar, seemingly getting ready to close the tab. You tapped her on the shoulder quickly, getting her attention. Immediately, her eyes grew wide once they fell on you, a smile so wide that it looked like her face would split in two. With extreme subtlety and impossible swiftness, she took her hand and inched up the side of your dress just to where a panty-line should have been evident. She caught a glimpse of your bare skin before you were able to swat her away, exclaiming “I fucking knew it!” You tried shushing her, not needing any of his nosey brothers noticing your conversation.

“Did this just happen?” She asked, her voice an octave higher.

“Yeah, and I think I’m in complete shock,” you rushed out in a soft voice, your own smile tugging on your lips.

“Oh my god, you’re telling me every single detail once we get home.”

“Well,” you began, “you’re gonna have to wait until tomorrow cause I don’t think I’m coming home tonight.”

To be continued…

taglist: @joopsworld @gold-mines-melting @shutupdevvie @indigostreakmorgan @sacredjake

#danny wagner #danny wagner x reader #danny wagner fic #gvf #greta van fleet #greta van fleet fic #jake kiszka #josh kiszka #sam kiszka #who are you now danny wagner #i love daniel wagner with my whole being #iz’s first fic!

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sugarwithtea · 2 years

Text

paris in the rain || pjm [1]

pairing : bookstore owner!jimin x fem!reader

genre : angst, fluff, eventual smut, strangers to friends to lovers.

rating : pg-15

series summary : you hadn't expected to run into jimin, an unusually charming guy in the midst of love and peace, in paris. but here you were, falling for a man covered in the smell of old parchment and wine while also recovering from the traumatic experiences of your past. your work stay in paris, which you had took on for a change of atmosphere, changes every nook of your life.

chap word count : 5.7k

chap warnings : swearing.

author's note : okay so its finally here !! ik this one has very less jimin in it but trust me its important to set the mood aagh!! i hope yall enjoy my first series and lmk what yall think about it hehe :)

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city of love by alexi butirskiy

m.list | next.

Walking down the street, you can't feel more ecstatic.

Work had been a bitch lately but your boss did one thing right when she gave you the task of attending some upcoming art exhibitions in Paris, and writing reviews on them for the art section of your magazine. Initially your friend Yoona was also going to accompany you, but soon the plan changed when she was assigned to visit Boseong for the tea plantation's article.

Miranda, your boss has several acquaintances in this city. One of them was going to help and guide you on your three months long stay. The breeze cut through your hair swiftly as the sun slowly started to sink beneath the horizon.

You had asked Taehyung, the said acquaintance, to meet you at the studio apartment you were going to live in, your luggage already there via helpers. Your phone buzzed to indicate a message.

Taehyung (6:02 pm) : the helpers have left and i am at the apartment.

Taehyung (6:02 pm) : it's been half an hour since i have arrived !!

Taehyung (6:03 pm) : where are you?

You (6:03 pm) : omw; I'm walking hehe.

Taehyung (6:03 pm) : seriously?

Taehyung (6:04 pm) : come quickly, it seems like it's going to rain.

You (6:04 pm) : okay, mom.

You stuff your phone back in your coat pocket and look around in awe. You had met Taehyung twice before, once when he had come to Seoul to curate some pieces for the museum he works for, and again when you both ran into each other in Japan. You were there with your company, to cover a highly anticipated gallery opening, and him as a mere spectator.

Assumably, you had shown him around Seoul for a week or so, when he was there and so, he thought it would be best if he could return the favour when you were in his city. Thus, calling him a friend would be better than calling him Miranda's acquaintance.

The sky turns a weird mix of pink, golden and grey as you turn the corner to a buzzing street. The first thing that caught your eye was the head of the Eiffel tower peeking from between two buildings and lush green trees. The setting sun casted a soft lustre upon its form and the tower looked as loving as ever.

A feeling struck your heart, ever so lonely, ever so loveless, ever so gloomy. Maybe, it was one of the reasons you agreed to come here, to heal what was broken, in a way yet, unlovable.

When you glanced at the tower's iron structure, you saw what it reflected, the city's love and a hidden form of something unexpected, misery. You relate to it. An embodiment of love, filled with eternal misery.

People loved to call you friendly, a person who could attract peers and enemies alike, easily. An everlasting smile etched on your features, always announced your presence to everyone before you could officially do it. Little did they know, or noticed but never acknowledged, that your smile never reached your eyes, lingering at your cheekbones, drowning itself in the dark circles marked underneath your eyes, if ever so lightly.

Your eyes bounce off the structure and rake your surroundings, pausing on a peculiar sign, upholstered above a small shop with no exterior decorations except for a faded poster of a bestseller book and a small open sign hanging in the glass of its brown, shabby door. The shop had none of those tell-tale ground to ceiling glass windows. Instead, old, paneled walls are taking their place.

'MIMI'S DREAM'

The sign mentioned the aforementioned words in faded cursive letters.

All the other shops in the neighborhood were decorated impressively, to attract the people. They were cleaned and maintained, giving off the vintage vibes, but still fancy.

Mimi's Dream was none of the above. It was shabby, old and gave no efforts to attract people. The door was almost hidden between the glamour of the shops next to it. An odd sight, indeed, amongst the splendor of the street overlooked by the wonder of the city.

Your pace faltered as you neared it. An unmistakable scent of coffee and old parchment filled your senses and you paused right outside the door, weighing the options of stepping inside or stepping away. The only thing visible from the small glass partition on the door was a small desk pushed up against a shelf overflowing with books.

A mop of blonde hair kept on moving at the edge of the desk. The person, whose hair they were, was crouched down behind the desk, so you could only see the top of their head, which kept on shuffling here and there. Rest of the interior was mediocre, some of the shelves were dust-laden to be honest.

The option of stepping inside weighed more on your balancing pan and thus you moved forward to push open the door when a buzzing sound stopped you.

Taehyung could have not chosen a better time to call you.

He greets you with a shout in normal Taehyung manner.

"Where the fuck are you?"

"Outside Mimi's Dream."

"Outside what now?"

"It's a bookstore, Tae. What do you want?"

"You. I have places to be, Y/N. Cut the tour short and get your ass here."

He sounded livid, so fucking livid.

And, you? You were now scared for life.

In all these peculiar sights you forgot the most peculiar man ever. Him waiting for you, at your apartment had slipped your mind completely. You mumble a small 'sorry' and dash from the place towards your apartment as the gray clouds started covering the sky above you.

It was a mess.

Your apartment was a mess.

And amidst the mess, was standing Taehyung, his hair equally messy and eyes shooting daggers at you. Even though the daggers were blocked by the numerous cardboard boxes standing tall between him and the door, with him visible only slightly, his fury was well translated to you.

You picked up the small boxes at your feet, set them aside and started heading towards death personified. He was not even speaking anything, just looking at you with the expression your mom gave you when she found out you tried smoking weed. Your mom had also stared at you wordlessly, Taehyung putting you in a similar situation.

As you stood in front of him, face to face, your eyes cast down, though, he squinted his eyes at you and opened his mouth to tell you off. But, he stopped midway, snapped his mouth shut, shook his head and turned around, realizing you were already quite the disappointment for him to sour his tongue up with the words he was going to say.

Even though you knew the reason for his anger, you couldn't stop your mouth from acting up.

"What?" you spat as he faced his back to you, trying to navigate his way around your dumping ground.

"Nothing. I decided that murdering you is not worth the jail time." he said and sat down on a box, giving up his thought of going deeper in your house.

"Okay I'm sorry."

"What were you even doing for a whole hour? The route from the airport is straight and like ten minutes away on foot!" he prodded and you looked everywhere but him.

What were you going to say? A poorly decorated bookstore caught your eye and you were gathering the courage to step inside it? No thanks, you'd rather save yourself from the embarrassment. Lying always seemed like the best option for you anyway, so why not go with it.

"I thought I'd take a look around the neighborhood." you murmured, your feet being the most interesting for you at that moment.

"When I was waiting for you at this shithole?"

"I said I'm sorry. I didn't know I'd get too caught up!" you knew you were being inconsiderate but the look on his face almost made you laugh out loud.

He breathed anger, trying to subdue it by taking deep breaths. One thing you knew, you needed to make it up to him later, in some way or other as this was totally your fault.

You went forward to hug him and wrapping your arms around his torso, you mumbled into his chest

"Listen, I am so sorry, genuinely. I just got distracted by this beautiful city you live in. I promise I will make it up to you later as you had to give up your time doing nothing because of me."

"How?"

"Huh?" you looked up to him, your chin on his chest as he wrapped his arms around you, squeezing you tighter.

"How are you gonna make it up to me?" a sly smile on his lips.

"Um, however you ask me to."

"I am going on a date with my girlfriend next week."

"Congratulations?"

"You'll be the one paying for it."

"Fuck no." you free yourself from his grasp and take a step back.

"Well then, okay. Have fun living in this city without any friends. Have fun learning French. Have fun with loneliness." he said and started moving towards the door, his lips still set in a wide ass grin.

You fucked up pretty well this time. There was no way you were going to let him go, leaving yourself to explore this city alone. He knew that, that bastard.

The only concern now on your mind was, where were he and her girlfriend going to, for a date. Knowing Taehyung, he'll probably choose some expensive place just to annoy you.

You rush towards him and quickly hold his wrist, almost tripping over a lone object on the floor.

"I'll do it."

His eyes sparkle with mischief as he looks down at you and nods his head in a way of saying, 'told you so.'

"Where are you guys going?"

"I'll let you know in three days, by Friday."

Prick. He has planned his date a week prior. It has to be something extravagant, given his expressions. You wish you don't have to spend way more than you can, you can't afford giving up a chunk of it on an unnecessary date in your first week in the city.

"You have not yet decided, have you?" you squint your eyes at him, trying your best so that he'll slip up the answer.

"Oh you'll be surprised to know that I have it all planned out. Just not for you to know yet, darling."

"Whatever." you huff and set yourself to work, him helping you around the house to arrange your stuff and settle down quickly.

Two hours later you plop yourself down on the couch now in your living room and not in a bubble wrap against the window.

"Food, food, food." Taehyung mumbles as he sits down beside you.

"Wait, I'm ordering something."

"No, there's a place down the street, it sells amazing fried chicken. I wanna eat that."

"So we are going there? You can't even stand properly Tae, how do you have the energy to walk down the street?"

"Not we, you."

"What?"

"They don't do deliveries, but they do pick ups."

You just cock an eyebrow at him without saying anything.

"What? Don't look at me like that. This is your house, it's your duty to feed your guest. And, I can wait here now, given that I have this whole couch to myself." and he proceeds to rest his head on the armrest and kicks his legs in your lap as you shrug them off almost immediately and stand up to collect your wallet.

You don't have the energy to argue with him and somewhere you still feel guilty for making him wait, though you should not as you're gonna pay for it, but you still do. That's why you proceed to do as he says.

"You are going to pay for all your sins." you grit through your teeth and dash out.

The streetlights adorned the street giving it the look of a pearl necklace.

The place Taehyung had mentioned was just five minutes away and you started trudging towards it in a slow walk as soon as you exited your building. Rounding a corner, you once again came in front of the familiar, peculiar store.

The lights outside were dim and you wanted to get a peek inside but you thought better as a previously disappointed man is already waiting for you. Still, a small smile plays on your lips as you walk past the door.

You glaze your eyes around yourself and once again delve into the feeling from before that day. You felt the hole all too well, but something told you the chatter and air of this city would help you in filling it up.

So indulged in your thoughts, you don't watch your way and bump into a wall. A soft wall. Wait, a moving wall.

Oh my god it was a person, very much alive, moving and soft.

You lose your footing and stumble back, your eyes closing for a fleeting second as you steady yourself. A soft thud follows your collision, the person dropping someone their belongings. Your face turns in a grimace as a shrill gasp leaves your mouth. The only thing then audible is a string of timid 'sorry' in a voice dipped in honey, garnished with crumbles but oh so sweet.

You open your eyes and cast your sight downwards, just to be met with a mop of blonde hair, crouching at your feet and collecting his books.

Mimi's Dream, the only thing that flashes your mind as soon as you see the all too familiar sight. He stands up, towering an inch or two above you and oh boy were you not ready for it.

He was beautiful. In a, sweep you off your feet at the first sight, kind of beautiful. His round cheeks and plump lips catch your attention. As you take his appearance in, his lips break into a shy smile, his eyes crinkling in the process.

Two crescent like eyes, with lashes dipped in night, his appearance was similar to that of a blonde Adonis. With high cheekbones and a sharp jawline, set on a pretty neck, he was too much to look at.

He handles some books in his hand and when looks at you staring at him, clears his throat, the shy smile still tugging at his lips. You soon look away and bow down, mumbling a small,

"I am sorry, I wasn't looking where I was going."

"Oh no, I am sorry. It was my fault too." he lets his voice ring in your ears softly as you meet his almost hidden eyes, due to his smile and slightly puffed, pink cheeks, due to the cold.

You let out a light chuckle with a shy it's okay and continue to stand there weirdly when he decides to break the awkward silence.

"You're a foreigner."

Your accent might have given you away or the fact that you chose to speak English instead of French for someone in Paris. Even though he looks Asian, you can never be so sure if he was brought up here or had immigrated, like you.

"Yes, I'm from Korea."

His widened eyes and the glimmer in them confirmed your assumption as he starts way too excitedly,

"Really? I am from Korea too."

Before you can even muster up a reply, a distant voice ringed in your ears.

"Jimin!" shouted a man from a few places behind you.

You swiftly turn around to look at a lean man with platinum blonde hair frayed over his forehead and lips formed into a sort of triangle. He was handsome, insanely so. You couldn't help but just stare at him. He wore printed baggy jeans and an oversized multi colored shirt, a stark contrast from the man you just bumped into.

"Yeah?" the man behind you, who you now assume is Jimin, quips with a tired voice. As if all he wanted now was to crash in his bed and not bear another second of the world moving around him.

"I'm hungry, man. Bring the books in quickly so we can eat."

"Uh, yes coming." Jimin grunts and looks at the back of your head. His stare burns the back of your head and you whip it around to look at him.

"It was nice meeting you, " he raises his eyebrows expectantly, with the softness of the freshly bloomed buds and extends a hand towards you.

"Y/N."

"Jimin." He smiles bashfully and grasps your hand in a gentle hold before letting it go and using it to better hold the books he was comically balancing with a single hand. You both giggle at the same time.

"It was nice meeting you too, Jimin." you speak and part your ways with no more words, just smiles and glances.

"Sorry once again." he calls out as you reach the corner.

"Likewise, Jimin." you quip back and turn around to find him walking backwards towards his shop, looking at you. You laugh again, "Now, go."

And with that, you disappear round the corner.

Lately Taehyung's been a little off.

You can't put a finger on the long list of reasons you have for his grumpiness. He is what you'd like to call a drama queen, over enthusiastic and overdramatic. There could've been complications at work, he could've been low by you bailing out on him constantly, maybe there's trouble in paradise, or maybe it's just one of his moods.

It had almost been a week since your arrival and you were rushing around, trying to settle yourself and your stuff in the new city. It had been overwhelming for you initially, especially when you realised many people did not speak English, and not everything was as romanticized as the books and the movies. So you were thankful when your neighbour Lily helped you out.

It had been so hectic that you were not able to meet Taehyung for almost a week. He had been trying to come up with plans to give you a tour of the city, the museums, the landmarks, the galleries, the cafes, the clubs, everything. But you were always cancelling on him due to your weary state, resorting to watching Netflix and eating to your heart's content whenever you even got an ounce of leisure time.

As a result, the man was now in one of his dramatic moods.

You were almost settled down, almost being the key word. So you decide to ask him to hangout with you. After all, he is the only one you know in this new world.

You (10:26 am) : hi. wanna hangout later?

Taehyung (10:31 am) : did the sun rise from the west today?

You (10:33 am) : shut up or I'm taking my words back.

Taehyung (10:33 am) : okay okay, sorry.

Taehyung (10:34 am) : and yes, I'd like to hangout with you, your majesty.

You (10:34 am) : my place?

Taehyung (10:35 am) : lmao no

You (10:35 am) : yours?

Taehyung (10:36 am) : be ready at 6. i'll pick u up

You (10:36 am) : and take me to?

Taehyung (10:36 am) : hell

You (10:36 am) : bitch?????

Taehyung (10:37 am) : relax, don't you believe me?

You (10:37 am) : um, no?

Taehyung (10:37 am) : good 😂

Taehyung (10:37 am) : anyways. don't cancel tonight.

You (10:38 am) : 👍🏻😒

These were the reasons why you were always scared to agree to any of his shenanigans. Always vague and increasing your nervousness, as well as dying curiosity. But at this point, you brought this upon yourself and you have to roll on with his antiques with a grudging smile.

You set your phone down on the kitchen counter and walk to the balcony of your bedroom, past your perfectly set up living area.

Your apartment had the classic, minimalistic design. A cream couch adorned the living room with a wooden coffee table and potted plants sitting atop the stools in the corner, with varying heights. A small bookshelf was pushed up against the wall and a loveseat was placed beside the window. It was small, but lovely.

Your eyes rake the expanse of the street visible from the small balcony. It was still the start of the day and people were rushing about with their morning caffeine clutched tightly in their hand and eyes cast low. Some were the exception and occasionally glanced about to absorb their surroundings or just strike up a chat with someone they know. It was a relief to see the life in the city move similarly to the one back home, yet differently.

While trying to take in the morning view from your apartment, your eyes once again fall on a particular blonde wandering the streets with his head low and hands tucked in the pockets of his trench coat. Your eyes follow his figure as he makes his way till a corner and then turns, hiding behind the blocks of buildings.

Jimin was a stranger. You knew nothing about him but his name and the place he worked at, the bookstore. Still, he kept on visiting your mind at random hours, for reasons unknown.

Your highschool friend, Gina always used to say that you thought about absurd things, your curiosity working it's way towards topics you have no relation to, at all. She was true, ofcourse. For right now your mind was running circles around only one person, Jimin. You were charmed by his presence. You died to know more about him. You died to look at him again. And you still don't know why you gulped down your coffee hastily, changed into a presentable pair of clothes, put on your coat, grabbed your keys and left your apartment.

You might reason it as the dire need to get some books.

The overhead bell rings as you set foot inside the shop and a smiling face looks up at you from behind the counter.

He is not Jimin.

But you are very much welcomed by him.

"Hello." he speaks in a chirpy tone and you can't stop the smile etching itself slowly on your face.

"Hey." you respond and gingerly make your way towards him.

He was dressed differently today, yet so similar, donning a black sweatshirt with a big smiley on it and his platinum blonde hair still frayed at his forehead, this time his lips in a heart shaped smile instead of a triangle. His radiance bounces off the shelves filled with books, him standing out against the vintage, old backdrop of the shop.

"Good morning. I am Hoseok."

You just smile at him without giving him your name, too lost to even return the act of kindness.

"What can I help you with?" he asks, softly, to gain your attention which he realizes he might have lost.

Your mind goes blank. You had not thought that to enter a bookstore, you'll need to have an excuse. You can't walk in there without any motive. In your panic, you say the first name that comes to your mind.

"Fitzgerald."

"Ah, classic." he says with the same, kind expression and you almost sigh with relief.

His eyes glide over your surroundings and stop at a corner which makes you whip your head towards it.

It was a mess, the shelves overflowing with old hardcovers with a passage between two such tall ones. A stack of books was placed at the end of the short partition, up against the wall with some stray pages covering the ground beside it. A wooden plaque with the sign 'Fiction' hung at the entrance.

Hoseok walks over to the corner and you follow him, spellbound by the sight in front of you.

You loved books. You loved the fact that there is a form of escapism so unreal, yet so real. The prints on paper bound by hardcovers or another layer of paper give you a sense of comfort hardly anyone could provide. The life you had lived was short compared to the ones your mind, your heart had lived. It was singular, it was just one. The ones lived by your heart were multiple, they took up small places in your existence and shaped you for the singular one you had to live. Your eyes read things your life couldn't display to you in its entirety of twenty five years. You eyes read things which taught you lessons your people couldn't teach you in the entirety of your twenty five years.

You close your eyes for a fleeting second and inhale the scent of parchment rolling off of fresh coffee. You open them with a forever smile marking your features.

"You'll definitely find him somewhere over here."

You snap out of your trance at Hoseok's words and look at him smiling at you.

"Ah, thankyou. I actually moved in recently and wanted to fill my shelves with some of my faves which I had to leave at home."

His face lights up at your words.

"How's the city treating you?"

"Like it has known me for years."

"Really?"

"No."

You both laugh at him seeing right through you at your half ass lie. Of course you have loved this city, but you are still adjusting to its glamour, to its reputation. You can't say it's been treating you like an old friend, but it is definitely trying to accommodate you well.

"It's good though. I am still navigating my way through the 'parisian' lifestyle." you make air quotes around Parisian and Hoseok snickers.

"Nothing extraordinary about that. I know you'll fit in well."

"Thank you so much." and you realize you never gave him your name.

"I am Y/N, by the way."

"Nice to meet you." he shakes your extended hand and turns towards the aisle of books in front of you.

"As I said, you must find him somewhere over here. I normally would have been able to find it out for you but Jimin recently rearranged the shelves." he says with a dent between his eyebrows and a disappointing voice, "without letting me know."

At his mention your ears perk up like a dog hearing his owner call him.

"Your co-worker?"

"More like my boss but yeah."

"Oh so this is his shop?"

"Yes, it was his grandfather's. Then his father's. And now he handles it." Hoseok looks at you with a soft glint in his eyes, as if reminiscing the days when Jimin's father used to run the store.

"Wow." is the only word you are able to conjure. This store is really vintage, it holds years of history and three generations have adored it.

"It's incredible." you look around the area in awe of it.

The interior is quite what you might have imagined it to have. The old wooden panels and worn off paint decorating its walls alluded to the overall vibe of the shop. There were numerous aisles in front of you, eac one of them had its genre mentioned on a plaque hanging at its entrance. The shelves lining the walls were adorned with statues made with alabaster or marble, displaying Greek gods and replicas of some famous pieces from the 14th century. There were blown off candles hurdled in a corner and hanging lights from the ceiling casted an incandescent glow all over the floor.

Hoseok claps his hands while looking at his desk and you immediately give him your attention.

"Okay so I'll be at the desk sorting some things out. If you need any help, just call out my name, okay?"

"Okay."

A thought suddenly strikes your mind and you turn on your heels to witness a departing Hoseok and call out to him.

"Yeah?"

"Has the name always been the same?"

He smiles and you both know the name you are talking about. A knowing look comes over his face and he raises his eyebrows a little bit.

"No, they changed it." he says and prances off casually as you wonder what might have been the shop's original name then.

When Hoseok said you'll find Fitzgerald somewhere among these shelves, he might have not mulled over the possibility that maybe you won't. Even though the thought was impulsive when you had spoken it out loud for him, you realized you really needed Gatsby and Benjamin Button to have a place on your shelf.

You had skimmed through the shelves, rather thoroughly and had failed to locate the books sitting atop them. You did find a lot of other books which always had a corner in your heart and as you moved about the aisle with the likes of Jane Austen, Orwell, Tolstoy, you wondered if you'd even find Fitzgerald among them.

You move towards the section which displays a set of books which were not dust ridden or had slightly worn off covers like the others. These had immaculately illustrated covers which used modern graphics and you know you have ventured into an area where your quest had the highest chances of failure.

Your eye catches the faded 'Romance' scribbled onto the side of a shelf and you run a finger over it, smiling at the thought that years ago a couple would have wrote it over there, or maybe the previous owners used less expensive methods of indication for the readers.

Raking your eyes over the shelves, you quickly grab a copy of One Last Stop with your free hand as you are yet to read it.

"Hoseok?" you call out and the reply is almost immediate.

"Yeah?"

"Help me, I can't find those books." you say and a soft padding sound follows as you hear his footsteps advancing towards you. He appears beside you at the end of the aisle.

"I swear to god I am going to fire Jimin."

"Yeah well good luck with that but I really can't find Fitzgerald anywhere over here." you laugh with him and both of you start your search again.

Amidst it, you try to glance out of the door and see rain pouring heavily and partially disrupting the morning buzz of the roads and adding to the eerie, peaceful vibe of the store.

Hoseok searches through the top shelves and you go through the bottom ones, removing the books and readjusting them. A while passes and almost all the books have been readjusted but your treasure hunt still didn't have any direction.

"Now only he can help you find it." Hoseok says and plops down on the floor with crossed legs and a tired stance.

"God?" you chuckle and follow suit.

"No such luck. It's just Jimin." he sighs and looks at you with his lips curved in apology and you smile a little at him.

"I am sorry this was such a mess. I swear we are better on other days."

"I am sure about that. It's just not our day today." you say and pat his arm encouragingly.

He studies you with an unreadable expression and you feel a silence sit around the both of you, comfortable enough for you to prop your chin on your folded knees pulled to your chest.

You were alone with a stranger but the rain sounds and the calm morning gave you comfort which was hard to achieve in the rush of moving in and settling down. You close your eyes for a second and realize you'll need to head home soon. Opening them with a groan you move your legs to break the peace.

"Aren't you waiting till he returns? He will be back soon."

"I want to, but I can't. I have to run some errands."

His lips form a triangle as you stand up and pat your butt to get rid of seemingly nothing. As soon as you pick up your phone which was out on the floor, the door opens, ringing the bell violently and in walks a very drenched Jimin.

"One more hour of this rain and we'll have to use boats to navigate the city." he grumbles, rather loudly and Hoseok slowly stands up as you just stare at him wide eyed.

He is wearing the same outfit you saw him in from your balcony, except his coat and hair are wet and his face carries an annoyed expression. Hoseok walks towards him with missiles to shoot instead of words.

"Boss, can you please kindly let me know where the fuck did you keep Fitzgerald after your impromptu rearrangement?" he asks with a sickly sweet smile which soon transforms into a sour face and you suppress a giggle at the look of pure horror on Jimin's face at Hoseok's sudden outburst.

He takes a second to contemplate his words and when he realizes, you watch his eyes turn into small crescents and cheeks puff up with a smile.

"Oh I have kept them in the inventory area."

"But they were old?"

"I know." and he gives no further explanation for his odd behaviour and walks up to a door at the back of the store you were just now discovering.

You and Hoseok look at each other, then at the door he disappeared to, then again at each other, trying to make sense but failing nevertheless. He returns a minute letter with a stack of books in his hands and comes to a halt in front of Hoseok while humming an old Polish tune.

It's then that he realizes of your presence in the store and turns his head towards you. Your eye catches his movement, mainly because you were staring at only him and he locks his eyes with yours.

His face changes demeanor and the nonchalant expression morphs into that of surprise, his eyes widening and body straightening up with an amused yet joyful small smile.

Hoseok looks between him and you and before he can open his mouth to ask the obvious question, Jimin speaks up.

"Y/N?"

m.list | next

permanent taglist : @nuniah @kittykooyoongi @highly-functioning-mitochondria @jjkeverlast @aliimac @haliiimede @gimmethatagustd @btsstan12 @namjoonwhoresworld @apotatomashedbybts

series taglist (open) : @here4btsfics @minniesvenus @jimilter @synnfulqt

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slxthxrxn-sxmp · 2 years

Note

Can I have a Luke skywalker x reader/how he reactions when he finds out you have body image issues/body dysmorphia? Thanks!

You most certainly can ! I’ve dealt with my fair share of these problems and doing this was almost therapeutic. I hope it brings some to you as well <3

Warnings: angst with comfort, reader is gender neutral, body insecurity, body dysmorphia, self deprecating thoughts, and reader gets a wee bit emotional but don’t worry luke is there to help

❖ Luke is a very perceptive person he will notice if you start tugging on you clothes as a sign of discomfort, he will notice you staring in the mirror with a small grimace, he will notice the twinge of darkness that now presents itself in your force signature and what breaks his heart the most is how you seemed drained most days

❖ He wont approach you at first in all fairness he consults his mini force council (Mostly Qui Gon because we all know how Obi-wans love life went) because oh maker he is worried

❖ The confrontation is subtle intertwined into a conversation over breakfast he was carrying stepping lightly as to not spook you

❖ He will point blank as you what he can do for you

❖ Want some new clothes that fit you ? He is more than happy to help and he will come along to make sure you don’t get overwhelmed

❖ Want to wear some of his clothes because they are absolutely comfy ? You got it, darling

❖ One time he even proposes that you take a shower together of course only if you are comfortable and if you are then prepare for a whole self care routine

❖ Face Masks are in fact involved

❖ The shower itself will contain him massaging your head telling you about his day (Han was getting on his last nerve on this particular day) then goes on to lathering your body in soap still talking as a means of distraction but he will sneakily plant in little ’I am glad the force brought me you, darling.’ ‘I cannot imagine having to live without you, my love.’ ’You are absolutely magnificent.’ And to top it all off a gently kiss is placed on your forehead with a whisper of i love you darling

❖ Cuddles lots and lots of cuddles but if you arent a fan of those he will keep up with the words of affirmation/quality time

❖ This sweet man will also incite you to meditate with him to settle yalls minds

❖ Every morning you will wake up to ’Good morning my sunshine .’ and the personification of <3

❖ On your rough days he will stay with you in the house maybe even in bed watching movies letting you cry into his chest (though he just kisses away the tears for you) these days hurt him beyond imagine but can feel through the force that it hurts you ten times more

❖ Makes sure you hydrate and eat properly and if that means he has to eat with, not look at you while you eat, or anything else so be it

❖ He worships you but he understands how you are feeling to a degree and just wants to be there for you in all the ways he can be

#luke skywalker #luke skywalker x reader #luke Skywalker / reader #Luke Skywalker imagine #luke Skywalker headcanon #star wars x reader #requested #luke Skywalker angst #Luke Skywalker comfort #This man is a teddy bear and you can’t convince me other wise #Luke Skywalker x gn!reader #Luke Skywalker x male!reader #Luke Skywalker x female!reader

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thatmooncake · 11 months

Note

hi hi!! i saw your reblog of your therapist au art and noticed in the tags that you dont mind answering questions. i hope its alright if i ask you one or two!!

so, you mention in the background section of the au that moon was used to trap souls inside dreams (or something similar to that.) will that be addressed in the future?? i feel like thats prime material for angsty stuff and moon feeling bad about what happened in the past :< not to mention the whole fazbear entertainment thing lending you the therapy bots and them linked to dream experiments is shady (as per usual with fazent.)

(also not as important, but is the whole "trapping souls" thing a reference to somniphobia, the book in the tftp series?? i actually havent read the story personally, but from a brief summary, im getting those same vibes lol. could be entirely a coincidence, but if not, thats cool either way!!!)

and on a more lighter note, can they eat stuff in this au? if so, id love to know their favorite ice-cream flavors! its a weird question to suddenly ask but for some reason this au is giving me "its a summer night, im up way too late, and im eating ice-cream when i shouldnt" type of vibes

anyways!!! im sorry i think i rambled too much but i love your guys' au, and yall's artwork!! cant wait to see more of it, hopefully in the future!

(p.s. unrelated but i thought moon,,,had the bisexual colors in his irises,,,)

Ooh yay hihi I love AU asks!

So! The dreamscape is going to play a big part in the therapy bots AU, and the angst and drama is very much ongoing - it might seem like fun and games at first exploring the therapy themed concepts, but you’re absolutely right, there are massive Somniphobia style undertones there. Moon’s dreamscape is designed to pull you in and it can be addictive and …energy consuming. Or should we say life force consuming?

Moon meanwhile? He feels closer to you in the dreamscape than in the waking world …at first. All the souls he steals become a part of him, in a sense. Remnants of them continue to float around in the dreamscape if you look hard enough, like when you start peeling back the wallpaper of a new house that used to belong to someone else. For the longest time Moon has not really been able to interact in the real world, and honestly most people in the dreamscape very rarely interacted with him either up until the very end, being far too wrapped up in exploring the vast dreamscape which moulds itself around their wants and needs. He’s been kind of used to his role as a passive observer, or a creature without much identity at all. But this time around, because you think he’s a therapy bot, he’s a part of the action. He’s actually being played with. This is unusual for him, and his feelings get a little more muddied over time.

Sun and Moon can absolutely eat in this AU - it was one of their ill-advised “upgrades”. And as the three of you start sharing some soul energy - uhhh, bond with each other more closely, they start to gain the strangest senses too. Senses they’ve never had before, like smell and taste. And they do not know what to make of this. But they do know that Sun likes neapolitan flavour (don’t ask him to pick just one, they look so pretty together!) and Moon likes mint chocolate chip flavour (yep you heard me, mint is good). And that having ice cream late on a summer night is what it’s all about (well, ask Sun about that one - Moon thinks you ought to be sleeping, but he’ll allow it this one time).

Never apologise for rambling I love rambling :D (also everyone who’s mentioned all the pride flag colours you are absolutely correct Sun and Moon say gay rights)

#fableasks #fnaf #sundrop #moondrop #therapy bots au #consulted Scrunchie for a bunch of these and we have a lot of thoughts #wheeee

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millennialzadr · 2 years

Text

WROTE A TINY BIT OF ANGST BC I HAD AN IDEA.... ABOUT TACOS

TW DEATH MENTION

so gir is not in my fic, i love him dearly but i needed the boys to be able to spend a LOT of alone time together and having gir around is basically like having a 3 year old who has access to explosives yknow??? how are they supposed to do difficult self work when they can't turn their head for two minutes without someone's pet (or child) being eaten?????

i plan for gir to come back AFTER the events of the fic, but as far as zim knows, gir was sadly disposed of.

zim nuzzles dib's cheek but a smell catches his attention, and he sticks his nose up to dib's mouth

when did you have tacos?! youve never made ME tacos!!

hey-- but zim...! last time i offered, you got really upset, remember...?

...

will you make me some?

yeah, of course.

there's tension, but dib cooks a big plate for zim and eats with him. zim wolfs his food down, it's clearly delicious, but as he eats, dib eventually notices tears filling zim's eyes.

zim starts to sniff as his tears overflow, and he swallows whats in his mouth before sitting still and staring, his expression slowly filling with despair. his hands were pressed in half fists against the top of his thighs and his posture is very stiff. he's clearly trying to hold back, but... the tears stream down his face, and soon he was sobbing, his eyes squeezing shut as he turned his face downward. his voice was filled with pain as the gate holding back his grief was finally broken, and he cried hard. it was hard to watch.

so it really was true... gir was gone. dib felt awful for zim, seeing him like this. he'd never been this vulnerable in front of him before. dib soon reached up to the blanket that was on the back of the couch and pulled it over zim's head. zim quickly grabbed onto the blanket and pulled it around himself, covering his face and hunching over into a slouch as he continued to shake and sob. dib reflexively rubbed zim's upper back. he wasn't sure what would help him, but this was definitely something zim needed to get out. he sat quietly, continuing to rub his friend's back as he listened to him cry, hoping it would convey that he was there for zim. zim sounded so hopelessly distraught, tears were pricking his own eyes now. gir had truly been zim's only companion for over a decade, dib wished he knew what happened. but almost like he could sense the question, zim spoke between strained breaths, his voice cracked and uneven.

"I don't know what happened...! All of a sudden one day, my whole base was gone, minimoose was gone, and gir was gone...!!"

So that was it. My god... How cruel. zim's leaders must have had something to do with it, it sounded too much like a punishment.

"Zim..." Dib didn't know what to say. he just stayed close, kept his hand moving. eventually, the torrent of zim's sadness finally started to ebb, little by little. to dib's surprise, he felt zim shift towards him, and felt grasping hands. zim still wouldn't show his face, but his head pressed up against dib's chest, and dib's arms were wrapped around him before dib gave it a second thought. carefully he held zim tight against himself as he slowly leaned back until he was resting reclined against the couch with zim in a curled heap on his lap. zim still shook with the occasional gasping sob, and dib let him take his time, never letting go of him.

#tw death #zadr #angst #its quite short and i didn't bother editing like #at all #and the beginning is still in draft form #but i know some of yall love angst more than life itself so #have a taste of my brand #wink wonk #soft au #fic #wrote this while half asleep last night #and posting at 9am on a tuesday #highfives myself

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littlemisslipbalm · 4 years

Text

“it’s not that important”

Summary: Y/N is in Harry’s band and one night they have a drunken hook up. One thing leads to another and they find themselves engaging in a friend’s with benefits type of situation. spoiler: it is important

AKA: A friends with benefits to lovers story :) with some angst in there

This is for @stylesharrys fallinharry10k celebration so my trope is friends with benefits! prompt is “you have no goddamn idea what you do to me. when i’m around you, i have no control of my emotions or my thoughts” and the tenth picture ^ i kinda just used it in the beginning to descripe what he was wearing - i got really carried away with this story but the prompt is in there !! lol, not proofread tho but would love your feedback !!!! :) love y’all very much

oh boy i’ve had this done for agesss but i hadn��t written the smut until today so now we’re here i dont even remember what happens - i vaguely remember not loving the end but I hope yall enjoy

Word Count: 15.4k (longest fic to date) | Warnings: smut, angst, fluff, alcohol consumption? i dont remember but i dont think theres anything too heavy in here.

“Hey Harold!” You smile as you easily hop over the side of the couch and settle beside your bandmate.

Harry groans, yet can’t keep the small smile off of his face when he sees it’s you. “How many times have I told you to never call me that?”

Your eyes narrow at his faux glare. “And how many times have I told you, I simply do not care?”

You reach a hand out and tousle his already disheveled, unstyled brown hair. Despite his lack of styling, his hair still looked perfect. His chestnut hair fell into a middle part when he did nothing to it and you found it endearing. It made him look far younger than he truly was, like a boy you might have pursued when you were in your early days at college. The waves slightly framed his prominent cheekbones and chiseled jaw that was sporting a tiny amount of stubble.

He moves his arm from around the back of the couch to pat at his hair, trying to put it back in its nondescript position you had just messed with. After he’s satisfied, he uses the same hand to push up his glasses on the bridge of his nose. They’re chestnut brown Gucci frames that match the natural highlights in his hair. You can safely assume that’s why he bought them. The lenses are clear, but you know they don’t hold any prescription. He looks incredulously at you from behind them still.

“Nice glasses,” you mention offhandedly as you reach out to the coffee table to grab the drink you had left there earlier.

Before Harry had arrived, you had been taking up residence on the couch, in the spot he had actually taken up. You had ventured to the restroom for a moment and gotten held up in a conversation when asked your preference for the Beatles. Having to defend your staunch stance for the Beatles and against the Rolling Stones, you had gotten swept up into an argument with Adam. He believed that because the Rolling Stones toured for longer warranted them the title of best rock band. While you countered that despite their long touring and production of music, the Stones had a rotation of members. The Beatles maintained the four of them and held such a large impact even though they were barely together for a decade. They were one of a kind, or at least the first of their kind, you’d allow. You weren’t really in the mood for intellectual conversation tonight, so upon seeing Harry taking up your seat, you had told Adam you’d continue the discussion at a later date and returned to your spot.

“Thanks,” Harry mumbles as his gaze flits around the room. He wasn’t sure if you were actually complimenting him, but he would take it as one either way.

The rest of your friends are all up and about, drinking, talking, dancing. It was the usual house party scene: a relatively intimate gathering, music you all actually liked, some friends of friends feeling slightly out of place. There was no pressure in this type of gathering but still Harry wasn’t necessarily in the party mood tonight. Usually, Harry was the one instigating these types of get-togethers with his friends and bandmates. He liked to be the life of the party, but as the tour loomed closer and closer, he felt some tinge of longing for quiet and solitude. He knew he wouldn’t have much quiet while on the road, which mostly didn’t scare him. He loved the stage and the high he received from performing and the gratification he felt from all the people in the room being there to see him. But there was also that other part of him that liked the quiet, the privacy. As the lack of alone time nudged itself around the corner, he had been hoping to enjoy solitude, or at the very least peace before he was on the road. Some sort of blissful state before technical chaos ensued. When Charlotte, the host of tonight’s soiree, had texted their group chat about tonight, Harry had politely declined. Then came the slew of private texts from Charlotte giving him all the reasons he should come tonight. He tried to say no again, but had shown up after the continued begging from her.

His appearance mirrored his expression, choosing a not perfectly fitted white t-shirt and random trousers rather than picking something he really loved, like usual. You could tell something was up and as his friend you were wondering what was wrong with him.

“Don’t sound so excited, Harry, someone might mistake you for somebody who’s happy to be here.” You stick your tongue into the side of your cheek, gauging his reaction.

“Has anyone ever told you you’re not very funny?” He quips, green eyes flashing to meet yours.

Your banter is probably how the pair of you communicated the best, never really falling into the whole serious side of friendship. You never shared those late night talks about the future or your fears. It was a fun friendship, so you didn’t fancy yourself one of his closest confidants. When it came to music, you and Harry were a bit more serious which formed a sort of paradox because the music you would share with each other gave a far greater insight into your souls than you probably realized. As a member of his band, you would discuss his music and what was going on with that sort of business part. But the sharing and discussion of other music that you did was part of your friendship, even if you didn’t see it like that. Because of the countless albums you had recommended to each other and the specific songs you had made note of, Harry and you knew each other much better than you thought you did. Music connects to something deep inside yourself and you have to like it enough and know the other person well enough to believe that they will also enjoy it to recommend it. As much tongue and cheek that you partook in with Harry, deep down, unbeknownst to either of you, you were that friend he shared his hopes and fears with, through the way he knew best, music.

“No, most people find me hilarious...”

You take a sip of your drink, trying to cover up the sting that his remark actually left. Most of the time you were great at keeping up with anyone’s banter, especially Harry’s, but tonight you weren’t feeling it. His tone had sounded so harsh it almost sounded like he meant it. His features soften when he sees the way your face falls, despite your sarcastic tone.

“‘M sorry. I’m just not in the best mood tonight. Didn’t want to come, but Charlotte…” He shifts to face you, arm retracting slightly around the couch, landing his hand at the edge of your shoulder. His fingers fiddle with themselves absentmindedly, he turns his rings around his fingers and they ever so slightly brush against your shoulder. You don’t mind, you know its his nervous tick that he did whenever he didn’t have something to clink them against.

“Yeah, same here, actually.” Your tuck an out of place hair behind your ear, returning your gaze to Harry, who’s tilting his head at you curiously. “But might as well make the most of it, though. After all, this is our last week before tour starts.” You raise your glass and tilt it towards him before taking a sip.

You really didn’t have a plan, you were just trying to make him feel a little better. It was seldom you saw him so solemn at this type of gathering. He usually was the one bouncing from group to group, entertaining everyone with his dazzling charm and quick wit. Sometimes he would bring a date and spend the night with them in the corner, but that was usually at bigger parties than this. At these types of gatherings you often found yourself talking with Charlotte for most of the night. You were both new additions in the band and you had clicked immediately. You would travel in a pair between different groups and talk with everyone. Sometimes you would tell a humorous anecdote about your life and everyone would laugh wholeheartedly. Your ability to retell a story and make it hilarious every time seemed to be your secret talent. You could make any experience into a ten-minute retelling and it always sounds like the funniest moment of your life. It ranged from your embarrassing audition for Grease as a tween to your supermarket run in with an old acquaintance or B-list celebrity the day before. It didn’t matter what it was, it just always had the entire circle of people laughing and wiping their eyes with joy. You’d laugh a little with themselves, but usually you just had a triumphant smile on your lips for the rest of the night.

He nods, sipping his own drink for the first time since you had settled down beside him. “Well, I’m all ears.”

“What?”

“Give me your suggestions on how to make the most of tonight.”

“Drinking, mostly, was my plan,” you laugh nervously as Harry continues to stare at you intently.

“Mostly?”

“I mean, what do you want me to say? I didn’t think to pack my bouncy castle, my bad.”

He bites back a laugh but lets some air escape his defined nose, before staring with a deadpan face at you.

You like to tease him. You simply liked him. Harry was different from other men you knew. You were pretty sure most people could say that though. Harry was just different. It seemed like no one could not have some sort of affection for him. With the playful friendship the pair of you had, you always skirted the edge of flirtation. But you also didn’t particularly ever want to cross any lines with him. He was the employer of you, technically. He had brought you into his backing band and you wouldn’t do anything to harm that position. As well, at the end of the day you knew Harry. His tendencies and the choices he made.

When you were around him at parties like this, you had to try really hard to keep him at an arm’s length. Because on one hand, you would drink and suddenly the boundaries you put up didn’t seem that important, instead his lips started to look rather inviting, but on the other, you knew that he was extremely emotionally closed off to any relationship that was more than either friendship or a one night stand.

Harry doesn’t give you a response, just swings back his drink. The pair of you sit and drink in silence. Before you know it, Harry and you are five drinks in, finally talking after the second. The pair of you decide to move to the balcony outside and continue your conversation there after the third. After the fourth, you're getting really handsy and by the end of the fifth, Harry’s arm is wrapped tightly around your waist and you're laughing breathlessly into his neck. It looks like he’s just shielding you from the cold night air, but both of you seemed to be enjoying each other’s embrace for other reasons.

Finally catching your breath, you lean back and pant softly as you meet eyes with Harry. His pupils have blown out from the alcohol and dark light. The emerald green barely surrounds the black and you swear there’s flecks of gold or maybe brown in them. Your brows scrunch at the revelation and Harry asks what you’re thinking. You don’t respond, too entranced and drunk to even hear him.

“Oi,” he bops your nose, “What is goin’ on in there, little lady?”

Your hand reaches up and widens Harry’s eye manually. His inebriated state has no qualms about you doing such an odd thing. “Why’s your green not actually green?”

“What?” He asks before moving your hand away from his face, it instead falls to his chest. The pair of you shift until your caged between his body and the balcony’s ledge. You pout as you stare up at him. His skin looks soft and taught over every inch of his face and neck. The urge to kiss him keeps nagging at the back of your mind. The idea keeps creeping up closer and closer and the drunker you are the less likely you are to suppress it.

“Do you want to fuck me?” You blurt out.

“Sure.” Harry isn’t taken aback. He had been thinking about asking for a while, so he was glad you had asked first, made it easier for him.

“Okay, let’s go.”

He takes you back to your place, the pair of you catching a cab the short distance between yours and Charlotte’s flats. No one blinks an eye at the pair of you leaving together. Everyone watched the pair of you sulk all night about being there and only enjoying the other’s company, so they weren’t keen on either of you staying. Charlotte was simply glad the pair of you had stayed for as long as you did.

The two of you walk casually until you’re inside your bedroom. Once inside, Harry throws you on the bed and fucks you. Hard. He’s got you spread out in more ways than you had ever thought possible. He’s got you saying things you had never even dreamed of saying. And he’s got you cumming and screaming more than you could have ever wanted. He enjoys himself as well. He loves the way you feel around him and the way your eyes look up at him while he fucks you straight into the bed. He loves the way you sound whispering dirty things and screaming his name. He loves the feel of your soft skin all over your body as he pushes deep inside you. He loves the way you’re able to rip a guttural moan from him every time he cums. And he cums three times that night. While it wasn’t quiet, he did find that blissful state he had been in desperate need of.

After the third round, Harry feels spent. He brings himself into a sitting position, legs hanging off the edge of your bed. You’re lying in your bed, completely overstimulated, cumming at least twice as many times as Harry. He scratches at the top of his head, his bicep bulging as he folds his arms around himself.

“That was fucking good, Y/N. Just what I needed.”

You can only hum in response.

Then he takes your blanket and lays it over you. After that he begins to stand up, getting ready to grab his things and go.

“You don’t have to go…” your voice raises when you realize what he’s doing.

“Yeah, I do. This was just a one time thing, yeah? I enjoyed it, but you know...”

“Erm, I guess?” You rolled to fully look at him, he was pulling his t-shirt back on now, his marked chest disappearing beneath the white fabric. “Do you really not stay over at your one night stands?”

He thinks about it as he begins with his shoes and his glasses at the same time. “Yes? Usually I don’t know the person and I don’t particularly want to sign an autograph when I leave in the morning. Best to leave immediately afterwards.”

“That was exactly why I wanted you to stay...Shit! No chance you’ll give me an autograph now? Could sign my tit, right next to your hickies.”

He laughs, automatically in a better mood after the catharsis of having sex. It was also a relief for him that you didn’t seem to be weird about the hook up. “Shut up!”

“You’re a twat, Harold.” He groans instinctively at the annoying nickname, not caring about the ‘twat’ part. “But be my guest, you can freeze your arse off while waiting for your cab outside at this hour.”

“Rude..” He mutters, standing in your doorway now. “You wouldn’t actually make your employer stand out in the cold at this time of night. I haven’t even got a jumper. Could get a cold and ruin my voice. ”

“You’re the one who says it’s best to leave immediately. Get on it, mister.”

Your hand makes a shooing movement, but he doesn’t budge. You sigh as he makes a puppy dog face - eyes wide and a puckered pout with his flushed cheeks and lips - playing into your actual kindness, that he knows is somewhere. Your sweetness that you were keeping hidden from Harry right now. Nothing was serious between you so it made sense that you were trying not to let your innate ability to care show as he’s about to walk out on you.

“Ugh, fine. Stop looking at me like that. Just grab one of my coats from the bottom right, they’re all oversized so one should fit.” He doesn’t relent on the face. “And you can stay inside until your cab comes.” You sigh and throw one of your pillows at him. He catches it easily and throws it back, much softer than your throw. “Also never pull the employer card on me again when I’m naked in the bed you just fucked me in,” you call as he looks through your closet.

Returning with a patchwork coat you had thrifted tight over his shoulders, he looks at you seriously, “Yeah sorry about that part. Definitely wasn’t trying to exert my power over you, it sounded better in my head. Meant more like you could ruin my voice and both of our jobs.”

You nod and chuckle slightly, finding how inarticulate Harry could be as an endearing trait. His explanation didn’t actually make it sound better. “The jacket fits.” You say, choosing to move forward from Harry’s weirdness, knowing he didn’t mean any harm from his initial statement.

“Yeah, thanks. I think my cab is here,” He glances at his phone, “So I’ll go...See you?”

“I’m sure.” You smile, “We do in fact work together and will soon be touring the world. Would be a bit weird if I didn’t see you.”

“Right.” He nods and adds a peace sign before he walks out of your sight. You know he’s gone when you hear the door click shut. What an interesting night.

Love on Tour had just started and Harry couldn’t lie. He couldn’t keep his mind off of you. You were both his most recent partner and the best he had had in a while. He found himself rubbing over the spots on his neck and clavicle that you had given particular attention to during the night you had shared together. When he went to bed it was your body he pictured to get himself off. So, after the first show he’s beelining to you at the beginning of the after party. He’s got an adrenaline high and he needs a release. You’re the solution. He’s whispering in your ear, asking if you’d like to meet him in his dressing room. Your eyes study his face when he pulls back and they widen slightly when the realization of what he’s implying dawns on you. Then you’re nodding and excusing yourself from a random conversation five minutes later.

Inside Harry’s dressing room, you find Harry already unbuttoning his shirt. He grabs your face and shoves his lips onto yours once you lock the door. As he kisses you he tries to make one thing very clear, “This doesn’t mean anything.”

“Got it.” You begin to finish Harry’s job of taking off his shirt.

He pulls back to look you in the eye, “Are you okay with that?”

“Jesus fuck, yes, Harry, just shut up and fuck me senseless again!”

He listens to you and begins to kiss down your jaw and neck. His open-mouth kisses leave a searing trail across your skin. He settles on a spot at the base of your neck and begins to suck and nip at it with vigor. You set to work on finishing his job of unbuttoning his shirt. Then you pull off your own shirt, reaching behind you to untie the bows at the back. The new skin exposed grabs Harry’s attention and he moves down to suck over the cleavage of your tits. He’s happy to be back with his ‘bosom friends’. You smack his head when he says it and he chuckles darkly, only sucking harder on them causing you to moan louder than you would like.

Once you’re both in only your underwear, you find your back pressed up against the mirror behind the dressing room counter. Harry’s body is nestled between your spread legs as he kisses down your skin. His fingers dance along the line of your thong as he looks up from beneath his lashes for position, you only push his head closer to your heat in response. He laughs mischievously before tugging them down off your hips.

“Missed this pretty little cunt...All I’ve been thinkin’ ‘bout,” He mutters as he begins to latch onto your dripping core.

Your brows shoot up at the thought that Harry’s mind has been stuck on you for the past week. You definitely had thought about your drunken hook up a bit, but hadn’t thought it had left a lasting impression on Harry, you assumed he had that lovely of a night with every person he chose to spend intimate time with. These thoughts are forgotten when Harry’s warm tongue is lapping at your swollen bud. You’re already panting for Harry and now you’re heaving with moans and whimpers leaving your mouth with every lick and nip of his expert mouth.

“Fuck Harry, feels so good,” you whine as his tongue travels down your folds and swirls and dips into your hole.

He moans at your words and the way your legs squeeze at his head. His hands move to spread you open wide to maintain his control and he smirks at the way your body rolls due to the friction of his voice against your pussy.

“Be a good girl f’me,” he growls still pressed against your wet heat.

Your body rolls again as you get closer and closer to your first release. Your bite your lip trying to contain all of the sounds that are trying to escape your mouth. Harry notices the new silence and glances up seeing how you’re trying to behave. As much as he likes you obeying his words, he also wanted to hear how he was pleasuring you.

“Tell me how you feel, princess,” he demands.

“So-so good,” you hiccup as his fingers caress over your folds now as he looks you in the eyes, his lips wet with your slick. He kisses you hard, his tongue diving into your mouth and you kiss back passionately, loving your taste on his tongue.

He pulls back and your hands trail down his chest, swirling around his familiar tattoos and hair that grace his lower torso as you move. He grins, enjoying the feeling of you on him and how he was affecting you.

Soon enough, his cock is finding its way back to your glistening folds, wet with your own liquids as well as his saliva. His mouth waters at the sight. He only pushes into you a few times like this. Then he catches sight of himself in the mirror in front of him and can’t resist. He pulls out and flips you over, your squeal leaving your mouth before you can stop yourself. His dick finds your entrance once again, not wanting to be without the wonderful warmth for any longer than he must.

“Ahhh,” Harry groans when he slips back inside.

Your head throws back on your neck, the feeling of him as well as the sight of him gripping your hair in one hand and your fleshy hip in the other. His rings dig into the skin as he’s able to slam more forcefully in this position. You gasp and whine at his motions. The sounds coming from between your legs are turning you on even more and they seem to make Harry happy too. He picks up the pace and drops the grasp of your hair for a second. Your head falls down as you try to keep yourself up on your elbows.

Gripping both of your hips, Harry growls, “Look at me while I fuck you. C’mon now.”

You moan in response and tear your eyes open to see your reflections in the mirror. One hand goes up to hold onto the mirror to give yourself more traction, causing your back to arch even more. The new position has Harry’s cock slamming into you deeper.

“Fuck!” Harry practically yells and can’t keep himself from landing a harsh slap on your ass. You jump forward at the sting but his other hand keeps the pace steady. He keeps burying himself into you all the way to his base, his balls slapping at your now slick spread thighs. He rubs over the red handprint he had just left on your ass. You whimper and bite your lip, truly enjoying the sensation.

Still staring into the mirror as Harry commanded, your eyes water slightly and Harry makes eye contact with you through the mirror. You smile widely and he grins back. “This feels so fucking good. Your pussy takes me so well. Fuck…” Harry babbles, still pistoning into you. You had noticed how vocal he was the first time you had fucked, but thought it had just been the alcohol. Apparently not. But you didn’t mind, you much preferred it to partners who barely spoke or didn’t even moan. Like how were you supposed to know what was going on in their minds? With Harry, you knew he was having a good time.

A few more heavy thrusts and you felt yourself nearing the edge. Your panting was getting faster, exceeding the speed of Harry’s thrusts and he could also feel you were close. Your cunt began squeezing him tighter so he hooked a hand under your knee and brought it onto the table. He hunched over you slightly and snaked his hand to your clit. “C’mon darling, I know you're close. Can feel that little cunt putting a choke hold on my cock.” He rubs at your clit with the vigor of strumming a quick paced song on the guitar. It’s enough to overtake your senses and the laugh that had bubbled from his words turns into your orgasm moan. You try to muffle it into the arm that is holding you against the mirror to avoid a full on scream because it feels that good. You felt like you were having your first ever orgasm, it felt that new to you.

A few more thrusts and you’ve come down from it, but Harry still hasn’t finished. It’s your turn to be the partner coaxing the other to get off. “Faster, Har. Want you to cum too.” He grunts, picking back up the pace. He had slowed to let you ride out your stay. “That’s it...want you to cum in me. Your cock feels so fucking good.” You whine, meaning every word. He smiles again at you and closes his eyes, focusing on chasing his high. You watch as his smile widens to that open mouth grin, “Fuck,” he almost whispers. And there it is. There’s a twitch in his hips that mirrors his expression and then he’s pulling out and cumming on your back. His voice is now even lower and raspier than before as he babbles how good that was and how tight your pussy was. It was sweet nothings, but extremely explicit and you sighed heavily, feeling a small orgasm wash over you again. His final thrusts and voice pushing you off the cliff again easily.

The two of you take a minute to bring your breathing back to normal and Harry goes to clean your back off.

“So..how do you feel about maybe doing this regularly?” Harry asks sheepishly as he begins to pull his pants back on.

“Like a friends with benefits kind of thing? Or bandmates with benefits, rather.” You laugh breathlessly at your not really funny joke, but you’re now truly exhausted. From the show and the fuck, you felt thouroughly worked out.

“I guess that’s what it is, yeah.”

“Yeah, sure. Sounds good.”

“You’re honestly so chill, Y/N. It’s fuckin’ hot.”

You laugh and flip your hair dramatically. You’re only in your bra and panties right now and Harry licks his lips, finding your playfulness to be a turn on. “What can I say?” You laugh.

“But like I said before...it’s just sex.” He’s buttoning up his shirt and looking at your reflection through the mirror now. He watches you slip the pants you had been wearing back on.

“Oh, Harold, I know.” On cue, he groans and turns around to face you after fixing his mused hair in the mirror. Interrupting yourself, you turn your back to Harry, “Can you tie this, sorry it’s hard for me to get the -” Harry walks to you without any hesitation and begins tying the silk ribbons on the back of your shirt. “Thanks. Anyway,” you turn to face him when he’s finished and you place both of your palms on his chest. “Trust me, I know you’ve got your issues and I’m not looking to be the girl that tries to change you. I know what this is. I only ask that you let me know when you sleep with other people, because once you do, you won’t need me.” Harry nods and you pat your hands against him. You both smile and go your separate ways when you leave the dressing room.

Harry and you fucked almost every night on tour. Sometimes it was right after, on the counter in his dressing rooms. Sometimes it was later in the evening in his hotel room or yours. He stopped leaving immediately after your hook ups. He never kicked you out of his room so he decided it was fine for him to stay in yours. Especially because you weren’t a stranger who would be weird with him in the morning. He also didn’t like trekking through the hotel halls late at night.

The first few times you stayed in the same bed, the two of you stayed on opposite sides of the bed, not touching after you were finished engaging in your sexual endeavours. Rigid bodies against the edges of the mattress. Then one particularly long night, filled with multiple rounds, Harry was so exhausted from his performance on stage and off that he collapsed on top of you. He fell asleep there and you didn’t particularly mind. It felt nice to be slightly compressed and held. He shifted in his sleep and when he woke up he wasn’t upset to find you nestled into his side with his arms wrapped around you. After that, cuddling sort of became part of the routine. After you were done having sex, Harry or you would get up to clean up and bring back waters. Then you would settle in his arms. Sometimes in a spooning position and sometimes you cradled softly into his chest. You didn’t talk about it, it just happened.

One night it was your head directly on top of his butterfly tattoo, one leg thrown over his lower torso and your arm snuggly wrapped around his middle. He liked to pet your hair when you laid against his chest in that way. His fingers would fiddle with the strands and you liked it because he usually took off his rings before he would do it and his hands felt so soft and delicate against you. Harry liked the way he felt when he would hold you afterwards. It was calming to fall asleep against your soft skin and feel your fingertips trace lyrics to songs he wasn’t sure the name of against his own.

No one knew about how your friendship with Harry worked. To the rest of the world, you seemed to be someone who had become another close friend in the band. You were similar to Mitch in many respects. Except for when Harry winked at you during a show, it wasn’t a friendly wink, it was a ‘this song makes me horny and I can’t wait to relieve the pressure by fucking you later’ kind of wink. You knew this because Harry had gone over and whispered it in your ear during a quick break, when you had only looked at him weirdly after he did it.

Before the show tonight, you pulled Harry aside, “So what are we thinking tonight? I feel like I might want to ride you...Haven’t been on top in a while.” In the darkness of the backstage, you crane your neck to take Harry’s earlobe between your teeth. He groans softly and grips your hips to guide them against his for a second. “Sounds fuckin’ fantastic, love.” You twitch back, releasing him immediately at the word. You always told him not to call you that and he tried to reason with you, that it was just something he called people. But you disliked it a lot, adding it to the growing list of rules the pair of you had for the do’s and don'ts of being friends with benefits with each other.

“Harold,” you groan and he steps back at that pet name. While he hated this, you refused to let him put it on the list because it didn’t cross any lines with your physical arrangement. Not that there was any physical list to put it on, it was more of a theoretical list that the two of you would speak of occasionally.

“Sorry.” He says eventually, “Didn’t mean it.” You both laugh.

You think about how other relationships were sometimes desperate to hear their partner express their love for them and you believe you’re grateful for the simplicity of your arrangement. The term relationship regarding what you and Harry were doing was also in the ‘don’t’ category on the list. If either of you were being honest, there should be no need for a list and you should be questioning yourselves why you felt the need to set boundaries if one part of it was physical and the other part was your friendship and job. If it truly was just physical why were boundaries constantly needing to be set and followed? But right now honesty was not in the cards.

After the show Harry gets delayed with press or fans or something that you don’t really care about. You barely read the text that he sends, only caring about the ‘sorry got held up’ and the ‘be there in thirty’.

You let yourself into his room and wait on the bed, flipping through your phone, completely unbothered by the rest of the world. When you hear a knock on the door, you don’t think twice about getting up and opening the door. You only realize your terrible mistake when it’s Mitch and not Harry standing at what you’re also just realizing isn’t your door, but instead Harry’s.

“Shit!” you say under your breath as Mitch looks at you confused.

The room is dark behind you because Harry would have just entered and gotten down to business. He might turn on a side lamp, but you hadn’t felt the need to have light on while you waited. Forgetting all of that, you had just gone to the door and opened it.

Mitch tucks some of his hair behind his ear as he stares at you. “Is Harry here?”

“Er..No?” It comes out as a question. You rub the back of your ankle with your foot, feeling nervous.

“Is he actually not here or?” Mitch trails off, narrowing his eyes at you.

“No, no he’s really not here. I’m waiting for him, too.” You rush your words, but try to remain calm.

“You have a key to his room. And you’re waiting in the dark.” He says. They’re not questions and you’re not sure just how guilty you look.

“Yeah!” You try to come up with a non suspicious response, hoping there’s a way to still salvage your’s and Harry’s secret, “He gave me his key because he wanted to talk about something and I kept it dark because my eyes always hurt after shows. Kind of like a migraine.” You scratch at your head and smile, trying to convince Mitch. He seems to believe you as he nods slowly and opens his eyes more.

There’s a little bit of an awkward silence and Mitch shifts his weight between his feet, looking at you still. Just as you're about to invite Mitch to come wait inside with you, Harry steps out of the elevator and begins to walk down the hall. His key card is already in hand and your eyes widen. Harry’s expression mirrors yours when he realizes Mitch is standing outside of his door and that you are standing with him. “Mitch!” Harry says, placing his hand on Mitch’s shoulder and sliding his key card into his back pocket with the other. Mitch turns to Harry without seeing him put away the other key card and you look at the pair of them.

“I was just telling Mitch how you gave me your key card so we could talk about...that thing.” You interject, flicking the lights on in Harry’s room as casually as possible. Harry shoots you a look about how you couldn’t come up with an actual reason for being there. You shrug your shoulders helplessly.

Mitch looks between the two of you and feels some weird tension and he’s not sure if it's always there and he’s just noticing or if something is going on right now.

“Yeah, well, I came to stop by to talk about the riff in Canyon Moon. Something is wonky with it.”

“Oh! Sure,” Harry nods to Mitch and then glances at you, “Y/N, we can talk about that other thing later. It’s not that important anyway.” His tone is so casual and nonchalant. You stare at him, thinking he can’t be serious. You had been almost sure he would send Mitch away, but instead you were being kicked to the curb. When he doesn’t say sike or anything of the sort, you nod. “Okay,” then you mumble a ‘good luck’ with figuring out the problem with the song. Mitch walks in the door, but Harry’s eyes stay fixed on your figure retreating down the hallway. He watches you disappear and is only pulled from his thoughts when Mitch calls his name from the couch in the room.

After reaching your floor, you key into your room and get ready for bed. Just as you’re about to drift off to sleep, completely alone for once in a long time, there’s another knock. This time you check the peephole, a habit you realized you were going to have to get better at. It’s Harry. You open the door and walk away immediately once he’s entered the room.

“Why are you here?”

“Thought we could still...” He follows you into the room, trying to make out your face in the darkness.

“I’m not in the mood anymore.” Your tone gives away your annoyance. You couldn’t hide that you were mad at Harry for sending you away. It made you feel weird. The way he did it so easily made you feel like you were extremely disposable and unwanted.

“I’m sorry,” he sighs as he lays down beside you. You turn to face him when he places a hand on the small of your back. You’re face to face and your noses are almost brushing. It’s not really possible to see each other’s features, but after months of hooking up you knew each other’s faces pretty well. You could reach out and pinpoint all of Harry’s freckles and moles on his face and neck right now and be correct. He could likely do the same. The theory is proven correct when he reaches out and his hand dances down your cheek. “Just thought it would be less suspicious if I didn’t get rid of him. Couldn’t make him wait either…”

“I know,” your voice is small and soft, just above a whisper, “I forgive you.” You scoot closer to him and Harry instinctively wraps his arm around you, bringing you tightly into him. You sigh into his neck and he shivers at your warm breath on his slightly clammy skin. When you lick your lips, they brush lightly against his skin. He laughs at the feeling, so you decide to press an intentional kiss to the hollow in his neck. In response, he presses a kiss to your hairline, his lips slightly chapped after the concert.

The kisses are tender, filled with that thing neither of you dare attribute to anything the two of you did in the dark. The word you told him time and time again to not call you. So is just about every touch and word that has been exchanged in this room since Harry entered it. You fall asleep wrapped up in his arms, a soft smile resting on both of your faces. Neither of you seem to mind that you didn’t actually have sex tonight or anything even close to it.

When you wake up you feel especially well rested. You shift around and realize your bed is empty besides you. It depended on the day, but it was always a toss up between Harry being there when you woke up or not. However, lately, you had found it was usually the former. You would linger longer and so would Harry in each other’s rooms, lounging in each other’s embrace under the soft glow of the morning light peaking through whatever windows the room had. Today you were cold at his absence. Then you look up and realize you aren’t completely alone. Harry is standing at the end of your bed, staring down at his phone, smiling.

“Hey.”

You wait for his reply, but he doesn’t look up from his phone. “Hey, Harold,” you repeat. His head snaps up, a grimace on his face at the name. He slips his phone in his pocket and ruffles his hair. “Hey.” He finally responds. “I’m gonna head out.”

“Okay.”

Neither of you seem to find it necessary to talk about what happened last night. Harry definitely seemed a little off to you this morning, but you try to shake it from your thoughts. There was no reason to be upset with him being quiet. He didn’t owe you anything, you hadn’t even slept together last night, so if anything it was weird he stayed as long as he did.

It was the second night at the Forum in Los Angeles. This means no travelling necessary. No day off either, tomorrow you’d have a day off before the third and final show at the venue though.

Harry and you were talking normally at the venue, mostly about the setlist - him and Mitch had changed something for whatever reason last night, which was fine. Your banter was to a minimum, but you were trying to convince yourself that nothing was off. Even though it felt like something was different, you couldn’t place your finger on what it was, so you thought it was best to ignore it.

When Harry is about to go out on stage, you don’t pull him aside and when he introduces the members of the band to the audience, he doesn’t say anything fun or silly about you. He doesn’t wink or come up to you at any point in the performance. It’s so unusual the rest of your bandmates are giving you funny looks. Charlotte looks at you from across your keyboard in a way that she’s asking if you’re okay. You shake your head at everyone trying to signal that you’re fine.

Mitch goes over to Harry and whispers in his ear to check in with him, Harry looks at him with a bright smile on his face and says “of course, why wouldn’t I be?” Mitch looks between the pair of you, thinking back to last night and how weird the pair of you were being then. Maybe it dawns on him then what might be going on between the two of you, but if he did, he wouldn’t mention it for a long time.

You falter a bit on your back up vocals tonight. You’re trying to give it your all, like always, but for some reason your voice isn’t sounding the way you want it. About halfway through the show, when your voice comes out the exact opposite of how you would like, Harry finally gives you a second glance. His face practically emotionless, save for the single arched brow. He’s concerned, but not concerned enough where he would go over to you. He just doesn’t understand why you keep missing the right note tonight. You make a shake of your hand to say I don’t know either. He just shrugs and turns back around to continue the show, his lively smile returning while he turns his head.

After the show, Charlotte, Sarah, and you are all checking in, going over what had happened during the show in general. They’re both worried about your voice and you’re simply trying to tell them that it was just an off night. Nothing was wrong. As long as you told everyone else that, then it might turn out to be true.

“It’s fine, maybe I didn’t get enough sleep last night,” you fib, having gotten more sleep last night than most other nights on this tour. They both nod, seeming to take that as a reasonable answer.

Then Charlotte gets quieter as she whispers to the three of you, “Did you guys notice anything weird with Harry? He was super lively, but he barely interacted with you, Y/N, which is so unlike him...”

Sarah nods while you look skeptically on. Sarah adds, “He kept looking up to the boxes, too. More than usual at least. I don’t know though…” She trails off and you cross your arms over your chest, not really enjoying the conversation topic. “I mean, what do you think, Y/N?” Sarah adds.

Your eyes dance between the two women, your fellow bandmates, your friends. You sometimes wished you could share with them what you were doing with Harry. The secret was fun, but it’s also nice to be able to share with your girlfriends about the guy you’re seeing, even if it is a casual thing. The friendly gossip of it all is something fun to share, but sadly that was another thing you couldn’t do. You sigh, “You never really know what’s going on in his mind, y’know. He’s just Harry.” Your response is half-assed at best. You figure they’ll both give you shit for the non-answer you just supplied, but instead someone else speaks for them.

“I am in fact, just Harry.” He says and you swivel around to find yourself almost chest to chest with him. Charlotte laughs while Sarah simply smiles. Your eyes are huge as you stare up at him and you hope your blush doesn’t come out too strongly after being caught talking about Harry by himself. “Enlighten me on when I was being ‘just Harry’ though?” You bite your lip and take a step back from him, forming more of a line with the other women. He shrugs when no one offers a response, laughing lightly.

“Oh and Y/N, I can’t talk about that thing again tonight, I’ve got-”

“A date?” Charlotte asks, trying to understand why Harry was acting a little different tonight still. The part that Sarah had mentioned about him looking up into the boxes had given her the idea that he might have plans with someone after the show. Harry scratches his head, his hair slightly wet with sweat right after the show. He’s taken off his coat so he’s just in the almost completely unbuttoned, sweat soaked shirt he had been wearing underneath. It sticks tight to his skin and you can make out all the muscle lines that hide beneath the fabric that you usually get to caress. Your eyes flit from his body back to his face when he speaks again.

“Erm, I wasn’t going to phrase it like that...but yes, I suppose, it’s a date.” He says finally, he avoids your eye contact and you look at him very confused, trying to hide the hurt. He shoves his hands in his pockets trying to look and sound as casual as possible and ignore the strain he sees on your face. Is that what had held him up yesterday? Making plans with someone else? And he hadn’t told you until now? The past twenty four hours stung a little bit more now that you knew why Harry was being so distant. It simply felt icky finding out this way and it didn’t even seem like he was going to tell you it was a date.

“Okay,” you say simply and walk away. You hear Charlotte asking him details about his date, but you try actively not to hear any of it. Sarah watches you walk away and sees the way you wrap your arms around yourself to comfort you. She feels a twinge of sadness as she watches the scene unfold, seeing something she hadn’t realized was there before.

Harry doesn’t text or call you that night. You hang out with everyone else for a little while in Charlotte’s room before heading to bed, saying you think you need an early night tonight. Before you’re able to walk out of the door, Mitch stops you. “I heard Harry blew off whatever conversation the two of you have been trying to have again. Just wanted to tell you I’m sorry.” You try to smile but it comes out as more of a grimace. There is no conversation Harry is blowing off, it’s simply you. “It’s fine. Like he said yesterday, it’s not important.” Mitch nods, but still looks at you with concern. What he had seen last night, then on stage today, and what Sarah had told him about your interaction after the show it all strung together in his mind. It didn’t seem unimportant at all. But he didn’t know how he could tell you that. He felt like he should talk to Harry about the way you looked when you left Charlotte’s room tonight, but he didn’t know how to bring it up to him either.

You don’t realize you’re crying until you're in the elevator, and it’s slowly rising to your floor of the hotel. You’re only one level up, but it feels like an eternity in there. You already weren’t a fan of elevators, but this ride felt impossibly worse. The walls are all made up of mirrors and you see yourself in the reflection, but you don’t exactly recognize the girl in there. Your eyes are tired from the show, dark circles already formed. Your hands are aching, clenching and unclenching on their own accord. Your body is slumped against the back wall, likely leaving a slight imprint from the smoke residue and dust on your clothes. Worst of all are the tears running down your face, smudging at your makeup, the black mascara you had applied dripping down in sinister raindrops against your skin. The sad girl stares back at you as you sniffle slightly, confused at what you’re seeing. “Why are you crying?” you ask yourself, your voice creaking and then breaking at the end as you struggle to get out the word ‘crying’ before a sob wracks through you. You roll your eyes when your reflection offers no explanation for itself. You laugh at your own patheticness and try to shake the feelings you’re experiencing.

Inside your room now, you flop on the bed and stare straight up at the ceiling. Your arms spread to your sides and your legs lay limply below you. You think about every night before last, every night since the tour started. Every night where you weren’t alone, where you were with Harry. Your mind flits to last night, how Harry’s lips had ghosted over your skin after his apology. How you had told him you forgave him and it had felt so peaceful, so simple. It was all so easy. Thinking about him and the things the two of you did together brought a smile to your face, unbeknownst to you. When you realize it’s there, your face drops immediately, deciding not to think about Harry.

But trying to not think about Harry makes you only think about him more and what you think about him now most definitely doesn’t bring a smile to your face. You’re thinking about him out on his date with some person you chose to learn nothing about. Maybe out of fear of what is happening right now. By knowing nothing about the person, you can’t compare yourself to them. Can’t see what’s different about them that would make Harry go out on a date with them. But it doesn’t matter who they are or what they look like because at the end of it all you know one thing for certain. They’re not you. You correct yourself, you know two things actually, because you also know that Harry chose to be with them instead of you tonight.

You fall asleep with tear stained cheeks that night and absolutely nothing positive on your mind. You want to sleep but know it only brings whatever is bound to happen tomorrow, which doesn’t seem very promising.

It’s noon when you wake up and you wake to a knocking on your door. You grumble and throw a sweatshirt over your body to hide the underwear you slept in. Not remembering your new habit, you swing the door open without any hesitation to find Harry. He looks wide awake and happy, the way he almost always looks, a fresh beautiful flower of a man. You look at him groggily, “What are you doing here?”

“You weren’t answering your phone.”

“Because I was asleep?” You tilt your head and look at him incredulously. “What about this,” you gesture to your appearance, “looks like I just went for a 3 mile jog for fun and I love the morning?”

“Can I come in?” He ignores everything you just said and enters the room when you leave the door to get back in bed. You often did that with him, you don’t know why, but when he asked to come in the room it was just simpler to let him in then say anything. He knew what you meant.

He sits at the edge of the bed as you reclaim your spot in the middle of it, tucked slightly under the covers, but still sitting up. “How was your date?” You try to sound nonchalant and it seems to work. Harry doesn’t notice your tense figure, but you notice how he tenses up when you ask.

“Good…Her name was-” You don’t let him finish, you already know the answer to this next question and you don’t need her name in order to ask it, “Did you fuck her?”

He’s silent, green eyes staring straight at you. You meet his gaze, your eyes almost burning holes into him. His eyes are begging you to not make him answer the question, he doesn’t want this to end, even if he also didn’t want the commitment he had felt himself exhibiting the other night.

When he had come to your room the other night after Mitch had almost caught you, he knew he shouldn’t have stayed. He didn’t want you to feel bad so he had come to apologize, but when the pair of you didn’t have sex, he should have left. But he didn’t, he stayed and it wasn’t for you, it was for himself. It was for him to hold you in his arms because he liked to. But when he woke up the next morning he knew he needed to leave. Solely cuddling wasn’t part of your arrangement together. It’s probably on the list of don'ts that the pair of you had. So after he realized the line he had willingly crossed with you, he quickly sent a text to Jeff who had tried to set him up with a model they were acquaintances with the night before - the reason he had gotten held up. Harry had initially declined, not very interested in seeing anyone else but you. But looking back on that choice in the light of day seemed to solidify what this relationship was - a relationship - and Harry didn’t like that. The commitment wasn’t part of the plan, so he told Jeff to set that date up for after the second show at the Forum and give the woman a ticket. That’s why he was smiling at his phone the morning after only cuddling with you, that’s why he didn’t joke around with you during the show, and that’s why he wasn’t in your bed last night.

You watch him expectantly, silently waiting for his answer, your veins cold as ice. He finally starts his answer and he wants to make it clear that it wasn’t as good with the other woman, but he’s not sure how to work that part in. He’s not sure how to explain to you it meant nothing if your arrangement also apparently meant nothing. You barely even let him get in a sentence. “Yes, but it was just a one time-”

“Alright.”

“What?” He doesn’t understand what you mean when you nod your head and cut him off.

“I told you at the beginning, Harry. Tell me when you sleep with someone else because when you do this is over. It doesn’t matter if she’s the love of your life or a one night stand. I will not be a backup plan, so if you’re able to find other people to sleep with, you don’t need to be sleeping with me.”

He sits in silence for a moment, his jaw dropped open slightly. He’s unable to keep it shut as his mind races about what to say. “Are you mad with me?”

“No, I’m fine. This was just sex. Charlotte will be happy that I’ll be going out with her more.”

Harry’s brow furrows as you shift away from him on the bed, grabbing your phone and beginning to flick through it. You feel numb and you’d like to not think about why.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” He asks because he does care about you, worry is written all over his face. He just can’t commit, not now.

“What would I be mad about, Harry?” You look up and your eyes widen at him, silently asking him to truthfully say why you should be so upset about this revelation. You always knew it would eventually come to an end, you just hadn’t expected so soon. You hadn’t known the last time would be the last time and it broke your heart even if you knew it shouldn’t.

He shifts to reach his hand out to touch your exposed knee. You move away from him and he sighs, looking exasperated. “I- I don’t know. It just seems like we should talk about this.”

“You didn’t even think it was necessary to tell me you were going on a date last night, so I think it’s best if we just left it at ‘it’s fine, see you around’.”

He spreads his hands out across the sheets, examining his rings and painted nails thoroughly. You’re right, he doesn’t really want to talk about this. Well, more so, he’s conflicted. He would like to talk enough that you want to continue your arrangement but he doesn’t want to talk about feelings or emotions. Even if he has those feelings and emotions, they’re just not part of the things he’d like to talk about. “But-” You set your phone down at his first word, “Were you even going to tell me you fucked someone else today if Charlotte hadn’t asked you if it was a date last night? Would you just have come to my room tonight and acted like nothing had changed?”

“I would have told you.”

“Sure.”

“I swear I would’ve. I would never break a promise to you.”

“But you would make a decision that affects the both of us without telling me until afterwards?” Your voice breaks a little and you beg yourself not to cry right now.

“I thought you said this was just sex?”

You laugh humorlessly, in disbelief, “Of course it’s not, Harry! And it hasn’t been for a long time and that’s why you got scared and went and fucked someone else.” He looks at you blankly, unsure what to say, knowing you’re right. You continue, “But I also told you at the beginning of this, that I wasn’t going to try to change you. So this is me not trying to change you.” You sigh when he still says nothing, his expression completely unreadable, even to you. “Why couldn’t you have left it at ‘it’s fine’?” You say finally, barely above a whisper.

He blinks a few times after your final question. He flexes his hand one more time and then stands up from the bed. He adjusts his clothes and stares at you. You feel helpless, but you’re still trying to look pulled together, even after your outburst. You stare back. A thousand words floating through your heads, all the things you want to say and likely never will.

“I know, I’m…” he pauses, trying to get himself to say it, but he can’t. He can’t admit that he’s completely ruined whatever messed up paradise you had created together. “I’ll see you later.”

The apology or lack there of hangs in the air as he walks silently out your door. You don’t move, you barely even blink, still staring at the spot he had just occupied. Your breath finally escapes you, a large sigh. Then some nervous laughter. It was over...just like that. But things like this, left like this are never really over.

It’s awkward for a good amount of the rest of the tour. You hang out with your bandmates more and Harry rarely ever comes out with them after the shows. He either hangs out with Mitch on his own or is going out with random people he knows on the road. You and him speak, but it’s never a lot or about anything relatively meaningful. It’s not the fun back and forth of before or the fiery heat of sneaking around. You try to be normal with him, act like his casual friend and bandmate.

He does his best to do the same, but it’s difficult for him. He doesn’t know how to talk to you anymore. He misses being with you, but can’t bring himself to fix it. He doesn’t do much to right his wrongs with you. He also doesn’t even know what he would want if he did apologize. It scared him to think about the step that came after ‘sorry’ so he saved himself the trouble and never did that part either. One night he texts you: “I’m trying, it’s just hard.” and that’s it. You don’t give him a response, he doesn’t need one. You know he’s trying and he knows you know.

Near the end of the tour, he comes out with the rest of you for drinks one night. Only Mitch is between the two of you in the booth, so you feel closer to Harry than you’ve felt in a long time. The group of you are chatting and having a good time. You somehow get onto a story from when you were still in college. You explain how you had narrowly avoided getting Chlamydia right before your Christmas break junior year. You act out the conversations you imagined would have happened at all your Christmas events if you had indeed gotten it. Your impressions of your mother, father, and sister have everyone laughing the most. Harry is shaking with laughter from your story and you smile at him in appreciation when he says, “That is the funniest story I’ve heard in a long fucking time.”

The rest of the night goes really well, for the most part. No one bickers or is short with each other. Everyone is laughing and drinks are flowing. Eventually Mitch gets up to go to the bathroom and you feel Harry slide back into the booth closer to you after letting Mitch out. Your hand had taken up residence next to your thigh, resting on the vinyl of the booth. You sense something next to it now and notice Harry’s hand is resting close beside it. He shifts his hand closer when he sees that you’re looking down at it. He’s almost touching you and you look up to his eyes, wondering if he’ll close the distance. He makes an imperceptible shake of his head, but you know what he means. As you’re about to shift your hand so that your pinky connects with his, Mitch returns and your head shoots up to his figure. You instantly remove your hand from the vinyl and shift closer to Charlotte. Harry gets up, but doesn’t sit back down once Mitch is settled. He instead walks off to get another drink, risking one last look at the table where he makes eye contact with you, but he doesn’t come back. Mitch informs everyone that Harry went back to the hotel because “he was tired” after Harry doesn’t return and Mitch gets a text. You roll your eyes, sure that you saw him slip out of the side door with a woman he found at the bar after he had gotten his drink. If that’s what ‘tired’ looked like on Harry, it was fine.

You start to speak to Harry on a more regular basis after that night out. It’s not funny or lighthearted. It’s just ‘I saw this song the other day, thought you might like to listen’. It went back and forth, it wasn’t everyday but it was something. The last text between the two of you before you began sharing songs again was his ‘I’m trying it’s just hard’ text that he had sent randomly one night. Then after one of you would listen, you would see each other at sound check and mention the song and what you thought about it. It can be noted that it was Harry who sent the first song.

For Harryween, Adam couldn’t be there. He has some family emergency the day of and doesn’t come with the rest of you to Madison Square Garden or the hotel you were staying at. Thankfully, Charlotte also plays keys and you can play bass. The band had to shift around some things on stage and make minimal changes to the setlist since you weren’t rehearsed on the covers Harry was doing. You spent the whole day running through the chords of those songs with Mitch, trying to memorize them so you didn’t mess it up during the show.

It was weird because for Harryween the setlist was switched up a little from the regular set for Love On Tour. Harry was playing the entire new album as well as half of the first album, Medicine, some of his other unreleased stuff, and about six covers, including old One Direction songs. It was going to be a long show and a challenge for you.

Before the show, Harry pulls you aside, to a dark corner backstage, and your mind flits back to the last time you had been in this type of position. The last time he had called you ‘love’, the last time you bit his earlobe - which always drove him crazy, the last time he ground his hips against yours, those and more and you had no idea that it was the last. By then you had already had sex with Harry for the last time, kissed his lips for the last time. It made your heart race to be so close to him and so alone once again. But it’s nowhere near the same as it once was. You shake the memories from your mind and look up expectantly at him.

“Have you got this?” He asks seriously, tone concerned. Of course it’s a music question, nothing more. Like it always was now.

“Yeah, of course.” His stare is unwavering and you try not to falter from it.

“I can get someone else to cover tomorrow, it was just such a short notice today. You know bass really well too, it made sense.”

“I’ve got this. Seriously, don’t worry, Harold.” You pat his chest lightly and for once Harry smiles at the sound of your nickname for him. You had stopped using it after the end of your arrangement. It never felt right to use when you were talking about music, and that was about the only time you had been talking. In this moment though, it felt right. His warm, large hands held your upper arms as you stared up into his big eyes. You missed staring into them, the shimmering emerald of his irises were constantly intriguing. You instinctively reach up to move back a curl that has fallen onto his forehead. He doesn’t shy away from your touch and continues to smile down at you.

“Y’haven’t called me that in forever.” He grins, his lips a shiny pink from the lip balm he had on.

“No, I suppose I haven’t. But where was the groan? The whole point is to annoy you.” You smile coyly. He tips his head back and laughs, releasing your arms from his grasp as he laughs wholeheartedly.

Then he does a soft groan, a playful sound, “How was that?”

“Eh. I’ll give you a four out of ten. Not enough emotion behind it.” You slide from the area the two of you have been occupying and make your way onto the stage to start dealing with the bass you would be playing. You hear Harry call out to you, “I think I deserve at least a five, maybe even a six!” You turn back for a second to look at him with an unimpressed expression and shake your head no. He laughs again and you hear him even when you walk out onto the stage. You smile to yourself as you pick up the bass.

When he introduces the band, he waits to talk about you last. “And sadly this evening Mr. Adam Prentergest, our usual fabulous bassist, was unable to attend our fancy dress party! However! Our lovely Y/N L/N is also a superb bassist and was kind enough to step into his place. - Anything to add?” He saunters across the stage to you and you laugh kindly, feeling at ease in this part of the stage even though you were usually on the opposite side and further back from the crowd. You nod at Harry and he leans his portable mic towards your lips. You wet them quickly and eye Harry before turning out to the crowd. “Just please go easy on me if the bass sounds a bit wonky. It wasn’t on the job description that I’d be playing songs I didn’t know, with a few hours notice, on not my main instrument.” You say this in a kind of list format, holding up your fingers as you tick off all the ways that this was out of your comfort zone. You scratch your head dramatically after you’re finished and the whole crowd laughs and cheers. The rest of your bandmates chuckle along and Harry nods and smiles at you.

“You’ll do great, love.” He leans into your ear and says without the microphone. Then he winks and turns to go back to the center of the stage. You press your lips together to contain your smile, both happy and concerned about the flip your stomach just did.

The show is going great. Harry is killing it with the crowd. Everything is electric. You’re entirely focussed on your bass playing, but Harry has been coming over every so often to do something fun or have you tell a joke.

“She’s truly the funniest person I know! And I know a fair amount of people I think.” Harry says as he walks over to you have you tell another joke. Mitch has been looking at you and Harry interacting all night and he’s sure that it isn’t your different position that has him coming over and talking to you so much tonight. Something has definitely changed once again. First the pair of you were always together and having fun, then it was silence and stolen glances that neither of you realized you were taking, now it was back to the beginning.

“That’s because you think puns are part of the top tier levels of comedy.” You say easily, “Here, I can guarantee Harry will love this and the rest of you will likely groan.” Then you stop and act as if you’re thinking for a little, everyone’s waiting expectantly. “Sorry, thinking...Well, I’ve got some skeleton puns I could do, they’re very humerus or y’know classic vampire ones..eh but those ones kind of suck. What do you think, Harry?” You look out at the crowd, face deadpan, as Harry laughs beside you. You roll your eyes playfully and push him back to the center of the stage. Leaning into your own mic now, you say, “I told you.” That’s when everyone laughs. Harry throws another look at you over his shoulder and laughs a little more, his smile wide and eyes bright.

A little over half way through the night, it’s time for ‘to be so lonely’. You already knew the bass chords for it before today and you were confident in yourself by now. It wasn’t as hard a song so you were happy for the little break. This song allowed you to not be looking down at the notes you had stuck to the floor in front of you. Harry’s voice comes in after Mitch’s intro and you watch the way his lips move against his mic. You laugh a little as you watch the crowd yell the first “arrogant son of a bitch” line. You used to not particularly like when people did that, but after it had ended with Harry you had started to enjoy it a bit more. Having those people yell the words you couldn’t, but truly felt about him sometimes, was cathartic. Tonight you weren’t angry with him, but you enjoyed the energy in the room when everyone said it. We’ve all got our own ‘arrogant son of a bitch’ that we want to scream at sometimes. Tonight yours wasn’t Harry for the first time in a long time. The song moves along and Harry takes the microphone off its stand, he walks towards your side of the stage. When the lyrics get to:

“I miss the shape of your lips, your wit, it’s just a trick, this is it so I’m sorry”

Harry isn’t looking at the crowd, he’s looking straight at you. You don’t understand the way he’s looking at you. Or maybe you don’t want to understand it. This song, its lyrics, explains Harry really well. You saw the relationship you had with him in the words. Maybe not precisely, but a part of it was in it. Harry had unknowingly foretold your lives with his words. You know he has trouble connecting and committing, you know his issues, and you accept them. But you knew what had happened between the two of you was far more serious than meaningless sex and you knew Harry couldn’t bring himself to be that serious. He ran off and that was fine, but the face that he couldn’t even apologize hurt you the most. But the song lays it all out for you, he’s not one to be able to apologize quickly. The fact that he looks at you and means the apology he sings in the song for you, it’s a big step, but it’s not enough. The banter, the technical apology, it was all a good start, but it’s just that - the beginning. If Harry wants to make things better with you, a lot more needs to be discussed. So when you sing backing vocals for the following chorus you mean the words for Harry completely.

“Don’t call me baby again, you got your reasons, I know that you’re trying to be friends. I know you mean it, but don’t call me baby again it’s hard for me to go home and be so lonely”

His eyes flick to you again and see your lips moving around the words as you play the bass. He sees the emotion in your face and understands what you’re saying. It’s hard for you to go to your room at night and be alone while he’s out with someone else. It’s hard for him to act like everything’s all fine and perfect, back to normal, because for you it isn’t really. He can’t call you ‘love’ and tell the world you’re funny and expect it to be enough. He can’t sing his sorry that was initially for someone else to you and expect you to accept it. And he knows it, too.

After the show everyone decides they’re exhausted and need to rest before tomorrow. You all planned to celebrate the whole day and you knew it was going to be a wicked Halloween. Knowing this, you’re surprised with the knock on your door after about an hour of being back at the hotel. You’ve given up the habit you had once hoped to cultivate and swing the door open haplessly. Truly having no idea who to expect, you are still surprised to find the man standing before you.

“Mitch.”

“We need to talk.” He stares down at you, his shoulders slumped from tiredness.

“Come in,” you usher him in when you hear the urgency of his voice. He saunters in before you and you close the door. You move to the small couch in the room and sit down. Your hands gesture for him to sit as well, but he shakes his head. He stays standing and brings a hand up to smooth his hair back on the right side. His eyes staying on the floor and flickering up to you every so often.

“What is going on with you and Harry?”

“What do you mean?”

“Oh come on Y/N. You’re seemingly best friends with him for a good portion of tour, then you’re barely on speaking terms for the second half, now you’re joking around again. What is going on?”

You sit there in a stunned silence, “I don’t know what to say.” Your arms go to hug your body, feeling anxious about being confronted about this topic.

“Were you seeing each other?” His voice is soft, eyes taking in your body language and knowing it’s a difficult topic.

“I wouldn’t put it like that…”

He holds back the ‘I knew it’ statement because of how sullen you look, b..ut in his mind all of the pieces he had watched unfold came to fit in a perfect puzzle. He decides to sit beside you when you don’t say anything else.

“We were having sex,” it felt weird to say it out loud, no one but you and Harry had actually known, “But it ended. I don’t know what today was...but it felt different than how it’s been.”

“Why are you so sad if it was just sex?” He places a hand on your shoulder and your tear-filled eyes meet his. “Oh…” He knows why.

“I’m sorry, Y/N.” You sob at his apology because he’s not the one who should be at your door apologizing. You sniffle and lean your head into his chest. He takes you into his arms and holds you as your cries become muffled sounds in his shirt.

You cry without words for a few minutes, Mitch coos some soothing words, his voice soft and kind. He was always a good shoulder to cry on for all of your bandmates, he was extremely strong and you made a mental note to thank him thoroughly when you actually were capable of forming coherent thoughts. “I’ve never told anyone before. It feels so weird even saying it out loud,” you say as you pull back from Mitch’s embrace. You're thankful his shirt is black, no tear stains can be made out.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asks gently, gauging your reaction. You wipe at your eyes and nod.

Taking a deep breath, you decide to start from the beginning. “Do you remember the party Charlotte had a week before we left for tour?”

Mitch nods and his eyes widen at what you’re saying as he remembers the night. “It started back then?” He’s unable to contain his incredulous question. He had suspected something, but hadn’t thought it had been going on for that long. He was truly astounded. You nod, “Well sort of,” then you go on to recount the last couple of months. All the way up until the Forum shows. “That night, when I opened Harry’s door and it was you standing there...Harry and I didn’t have anything to discuss. It was just…” Mitch nods again. He hadn’t spoken much since you had gotten into the story, wanting to let you be in charge of what you were saying and believing he could probably ask questions at the end. “Then the next night he blew me off for his date with that model and I cried in the elevator because I knew what was going to happen next.”

“So that’s when it ended?” Mitch asks when you don’t speak for a rather extended period of time.

“Yeah, the next morning he came over and I asked if they had sex and he said yes so I told him it was over.”

“But I don’t get why he went out with that model. He had told me she wasn’t his type the night before…” Your eyes shot up and looked at Mitch. His eyes widened when he realized what he said.

“What?”

“When we were talking about Canyon Moon, he mentioned that Jeff had tried to set him up with some woman but he had declined. Said he wasn’t interested. I don’t get what changed between then and the next morning.” He figured it was best to put all the cards out on the table right now. You’d be going your separate ways for a while, now that the tour was over and he had seen how unhappy both you and Harry had been over the last part of the tour.

You shift your leg to have it folded beneath you as you continue to stare at Mitch. “He came over after you and him had your meeting,” you say quietly. Mitch hums, waiting for you to continue this time.

“He apologized for choosing you over me to talk to. Then we slept together, but we didn’t have sex...I think that’s what wigged him. It had felt too real, sleeping in the same bed with me without having sex beforehand made it feel like something more than just two people fulfilling needs.” Mitch nods and sighs heavily. He looks around the room and then back to you, taking in your full appearance. Again he feels terrible for you, how he had felt the second night at the Forum even though he hadn’t known the full story yet. “Now we’re here.”

“Tonight, it felt like he was trying,” Mitch finally said and you smiled sweetly, thinking back to Harry’s behavior. No matter how far from him you were, all those good feelings you associated with him never went away.

“Yeah, it’s been getting better. He texted me once saying he was trying. Then he came out with us one night and it almost seemed like that would be the night he’d apologize, but then he didn’t. Then we started sharing music with each other again. Then tonight… was tonight. It’s just confusing. He’s confusing.”

Mitch smiles sadly and brings you in for another hug and you’re actually so thankful he

showed up at your door. It was your first time telling anyone all of this, because Harry didn’t even know how you felt about some of these things. It felt amazing to be heard and to be told it was okay to be feeling like this.

Pulling back, Mitch says, “He’s definitely different. But his differences are what make him special and that’s why I think he clings to them even if they sometimes can hurt other people. The fact that he’s trying is a good sign. I hope he can find it in himself to make it right between you two because I had never seen either of you happier than when you were apparently together. Especially those few weeks leading up to Los Angeles. Sarah had kept asking me why Harry was so smiley back then. When I had asked him, he had just said “have you ever found something and realized you wanted to keep it with you forever?” I had no idea what he had meant, but I feel like he meant you now.”

Your awestruck at what Mitch has just told you. He was right about the first part about Harry trying to change, but the last bit, that’s what had left you speechless. You turn your body to face the rest of the room and put your chin against your hand as you think.

“Mitch...I have to go.”

He understands what you mean and you walk out of the door with him. He walks down the hall to his room and you walk quickly past the elevator and opt for the stairs. Before you know it you’re running up the stairs, taking two at a time even though you’re not the most athletically inclined. You can’t stand to wait for the elevator and your mind is racing.

You knock on the door that is Harry’s after reaching his floor. It swings open and reveals a confused and sleepy Harry. Thankfully he’s still fully dressed because that would have been a whole other problem you would have if he hadn’t been. You push past him and walk straight into his room without any invitation. He follows behind you, still unsure of why you’ve come here.

“Have you ever found something and realized you want to keep it forever?” You ask him, repeating the words Mitch had just told you.

“Pardon?”

“You told Mitch that about me before we ended things. If that’s how you felt, why didn’t you do what you said?”

Harry sighs as the words register in his mind. The memory of when he had smiled at Mitch so giddily and asked the vague question, his thoughts only of you as he asked it. The shit-eating grin he had plastered on his face after Mitch had looked at him confusedly flitted across his mind. As well as the way he had gone to his dressing room and had a quickie with you after that conversation.

“It’s not that simple…”

“It is, Harry! Why can’t you just be honest with me for once?”

“Okay, fine. You want me to be honest?” you nod at his harsh tone. The two of you standing only a few feet apart. “You have no goddamn idea what you do to me, when I’m around you, I have no control of my emotions or of my thoughts. I pushed you away because I didn’t like feeling out of control. I got out because what had started as a fun time had turned into me longing to be with you every waking hour. I found myself not caring what we did as long as I got to hold you and be around you, but that wasn’t part of the plan.”

“Plans can change, Harry.”

You step closer to him and he meets your eyes. He had left his music playing softly on his phone before he had opened the door so now as the two of you stared at each other, he must have been playing his Etta James playlist because her voice faded out of the song “I’d Rather Go Blind” and straight into “A Sunday Kind of Love”. Harry had shared her At Last album with you over the Christmas holiday of last year and you had decided to listen to her entire discography afterwards, so you knew the songs. The transition was a little too on the nose and you wondered if Spotify ever listened to your conversations.

His emerald eyes examine your face and take inventory of your features, measuring whether anything had changed since he had looked at you this close up. Your hand goes up to cup his cheek and he nuzzles into it, dropping his head closer to you ever so slightly and closing his eyes at the feeling of you.

“I am sorry,” he whispers earnestly as he reopens his eyes.

You can’t take your eyes off of him even if you tried. He looks so soft in the moment, so vulnerable in this light as the music swells in the corner of the room. Etta sings about how she needs a love that is going to last as the pair of you inch yourselves closer together.

“I forgive you, Harry,” you whisper back.

He nudges his head further down and your lips finally press together, slotting back together after months apart. Your lips are eager to press back against their favorite companion. You oblige them, but pull back for a second, just far enough to say, “I will always forgive you, so long as you tell me when you’re scared so we can work through it together.”

He nods, “I promise to never let you go again.” Before taking you back against his lips and gathering your body up in his arms. His lips missing yours just as much.

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jennrypan · 3 years

Text

The salt fandom is so..weird. Like the kids are either..waayy too perfect and ooc or..the kids are evil shitty little demons and ooc--

Like. Adrien, they make him the absolute worst being in existence..just for a crappy ship or just to fuel the marinette angst?? Hes not some pushy little dweeb, yes he gets annoying but..literally all kids are annoying as fuck. Doesnt make Adrien ..a sexual harasser?? I know others have differing opinions but me personally after binging all the episodes I dont see what yall see. And no. This doesnt mean pop up in my comments givin me "WELL ACTUALLY" Headass essays I wont read. Aight.

They make Alya some terrible aggressive bully asshole (again. I hate this more than life itself. STOP MAKING BLACK GIRLS AGGRESSIVE BULLIES IN YOUR SHITTY ASS FICS. You arent doing some new thing and it isnt interesting. Screw you disrespectfully) she is a good friend and has proven this countless times and just cuz of ONE episode that wasnt that terrible shes suddenly evil and a betraying friend. Tf.

They make Lila downright evil.when..shes literally just really petty and annoying (some fics do it well enough where its not too crazy but some is just yikes. Shes like 14 the hell-)

And with Marinette its either shes really..really bitchy and arrogant and everyone loves her or shes this weak little push over who cant stand up for herself?? When shes been shown she can do that?? She isnt some evil, ice queen who will take her friends miraculous' if they dont do one thing to appease her nor does she parade her achievements around to make her enemies feel like shit, shes not like that and yes. Her antics annoy the fuck outta me but she doesnt hate Chat Noir, shes annoyed by him OCCASIONALLY but more often than not she returns his playful behavior.

Just lord. Salt fics are so dumb if its legit just ooc strange hate for fictional kids--

#j.p speaks #ml fandom salt #miraculous ladybug #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #alya cesaire #class sugar #marinette sugar #adrien sugar #alya sugar

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danihow · 2 years

Text

Two strangers

Park Sunghoon x GN!Reader

Enhypen

Summary: Some people are meant to be in your life until the end, most just stay a few chapters, and much to you dismay or your fortune, Sunghoon was one of those.

Word count: 2.4k words.

Warnings: Fights, arguments, yelling, discussing, falling out of love, maybe a bit toxic?, heavy angst, angsty ending, just full on angst.

A/N: I wrote this in two hours on sunday night after selecting a random playlist in my spotofy and landing on this songs (a, b, c, d), I am actually not too find of it AT ALL, but I know i cant erase it an dtry again, so I hope i didnt actually lost the track of it at least four different times. THIS IS NOT PROOFREAD, if yall dont like it let me know so i can sit down with it a bit more.

Maybe this was wrong all along.

How could you ever think this would work?

For god's sake, he's a goddamn idol, and you are just a normal person who works a normal job.

Mind wandering all over the place, picking up on everything that passes through it but sticking to nothing.

You were tired, you were emotionally and mentally drained from anything and everything in this relationship the two of you held, at the beginning, everything seemed to be perfect, a relationship that bloomed between two humans, one that flourished with the cherry blossoms on the trees of the park the two of you met, three years ago.

Your mind could still recall the way Sunghoon's eyes were lit up in a beautiful brightness while he talked to you, a wide smile on his face under the mask he wore, his eyes like crescent moons, the beauty mark on his nose bridge gaining your attention on multiple times as you stared at his eyes; all the times you left a small peck over it when you two cuddled still fresh on your mind. He was beautiful, you always knew that but over all of the beauty he held it was the way he treated you that made you finally fall head first for him.

But just as the blossoms are meant to flourish, they are meant to fall from the tree and perish against the concrete. And so did you two.

You couldn't exactly pinpoint when in time you two changed, your couple dynamic experiencing some drastic twirls and turns until it all seemed to have been just a dream, a far memory painted in watercolor that slowly faded to a scale of greys. None of you noticing when you stopped cuddling on the sofa together and started sitting on the opposite ends, when your hands stopped holding the other's and instead reached towards your phone more and more, when your gazes stop smiling when he got home from work, when your body stopped aching for his warmth every time he spent several days away.

Some time ago you two held a love so warm and pretty it could melt the ice and make flowers bloom anytime and anywhere just by being there, looking deep into the other's eyes with such love and adoration it was clear for anyone that surrounded you.

Now, when you two looked at the other you both felt like this was a whole new person, different from the one you muttered small “I love you”s every time you felt like it, now his eyes held some sharp edges that made you scared of cutting yourself into, your eyes dark to the point his heart felt itself crouching in fear of its depth, not recognizing what could be there if he was to turn on the light.

You didn't felt like a couple now, just like two persons that hold a title over whatever you have going on. That's what it was now, you guessed, just a title of partners that were tied more by it than by the love you were supposed to have, just a formality for everyone to see- wait, for no one to see.

No one could see what you were, the fact making your heart scrunch in your chest every time you thought of it, the two of you loving behind the walls of your apartment, his job getting in between the two of you ever since the beginning.

When you two started dating it was official for a few people, you, him, your parents, your siblings and no one else, and you were okay with it, your heart full of love totally okay with the idea of having a secret relationship, comfortable with it most of the time. But then, as time went by, and he didn't seemed to make you two public any time soon you started getting sick of it; hate slowly boiling in you against your own relationship.

Maybe... maybe that's when it all started to fall. That night.

You two had gotten in a huge fight, you suggested telling the public your relationship, letting the world know that Park Sunghoon had a partner, and it was you, but oh how he disliked the idea, fear of the media itself felling all of his senses, and what started as a discussion ended up in yelling your lungs out to each other, the burdens the two if you held strike to the other without any hesitation.

He had stormed out, not wanting to keep on listening to your screams and staring at your teary eyed faced. That was the first time you two applied the ice law, going on for three days without speaking a word to the other, both elongating your stay out of the apartment you shared just to avoid the other for a bit longer. But your still love dazed heart couldn't handle it, him ending up cuddled on top of your body as you two cried out, his breaking voice pleading you to wait a bit more for him, both of your voices mashing up in apologies and sobs, settling to break out the relationship to his group and agency.

Right there. That was the exact moment the downfall of your relationship started, the tip of the iceberg, the beginning of an unpleasant rollercoaster.

The smiles and mutters of sweet nothings late at night turning slowly into serious bickering and double edged words just to end in a crying session of apologies and amends, trying to band aid the crack that grew between you.

Maybe, your heart guessed now, we were never actually together, always having differences between you but letting them slide, piling them up at the bottom of it all just for them to start breaking up the surface, like Pompeii. Maybe, it was always meant for the crystal home you two had to break in pieces and never be glued back together, even if you two tried countless times.

Gluing back the fallen pieces seemed to work, at least the first times, but them, the crease grew and grew, your boyfriend ploddingly morphing into a stranger who you shared a bed with, a name you once knew becoming just letters that lit up something in the back of your mind.

"I KNOW you Y/N, stop changing the facts so much." He had said, hand brushing through his hair as he turned to face you, exasperated.

"Maybe you don't actually know me! Have you ever thought about that?" You had snapped back, fingers pointing to your head and then at him, making him more exasperated.

"You are my partner, how could I not know you?"

"There are multiple ways, Sunghoon, too many." You said, voice dropping low again, tired.

"Go ahead then, I'm all ears." He said back, arms spread wide to show you how he was willing to listen, head nodding for you to begin.

"I told you I hate sleeping without a blanket on, yet, you still complain I carry one around." You start, your stressed heart speaking for your brain.

"I hate the dark, and if you knew that, you wouldn't let me walk alone back to our apartment when visiting you at the dorms." Two tunes higher, slowly, passively raising your voice as his face did not changed, unamused and somehow making you exasperated yourself.

"If I eat too many berries I get an allergy on my skin, yet I still eat all the berry cakes you buy me on our anniversary just for you to laugh at my red lips and blushed skin."

"I don't like St. Valentine’s Day, I in fact believe it is a dumb celebration, and yet you manage to make me celebrate it."

"And if you gave me a couple more minutes I could make a WHOLE damn list, Sunghoon." And now you were back to your voice raised, his eyes blank, scanning your own before snapping.

"Are you trying to tell I don't care about you? Is that it!?"

"MAYBE I AM, SUNGHOON, may- maybe I implying that, but I guess at the end is what you want to understand, isn't it?" You said back, keeping the two meter distance between the two of you, not daring to get closer or farer.

"I can't do this today, Y/N, I-" he said, eyes leaving yours, brain turning to try and know what to do, letting your argument go. With large and silent steps, he walked back, taking his coat and opening the door. "Goodnight." He said just as the door closed behind him, leaving you standing alone in your living room.

That was the first time he didn't came home after a fight, staying over at Jay's for two days before returning, but it never came back to what it was, and you both noticed it right away.

You initial relationship just a far memory of the past, unreachable.

As time passed the Sunghoon you loved was not there anymore, and the Y/N he loved wasn't either.

It appeared you were now strangers who once loved each other. Your relationship just a myth that sometimes appeared, when the high appeared once every blue moon. Now, both of you rarely talked, rarely acting as the couple you were supposed to be.

Two strangers holding on to a thread that connected them, used to the presence they once loved, unable to let go.

He now came home late at nights lately, his workmates seeing how decayed he looked, tour own coworkers noting your dreary behavior. Neither of you shone anymore, together or alone, the light that had captivated the other disappeared.

And, much to your unfortune, you were the first one two pick up on it, when one day you missed the brightness he had, meditating and coming to the painful conclusion that you took it away, you had turned him off instead of powering him up.

The both of you were the cause of your own downfall.

Sunghoon didn't lit up the room anymore, and you hated yourself for it. A sudden urge of giving him his spark back flooding you, the little love you still held in your heart for what he was before being the boost you needed to let go.

And, even if you didn't knew him anymore, it hurt, it hurt to pack your bags and take the initiative to leave, because leaving this apartment you shared meant to leave all of what you were behind, leaving him behind.

You didn't talk, you barely kissed anymore, but the idea of what it was and what it could've been feeling like a hundred knives against your tired heart.

You left Sunghoon's life for good on March 21st before midnight, taking in your arms your last bag of clothing after leaving a letter on the counter you two used to cook dinner together. Taking all of you to start again far from him, an attempt full of the very last drops of love you could find for him to shine again, to light up the world like he used to, to be the person he was supposed to be.

He wasn't supposed to come home that day until 2 a.m., but, as if the universe was in need of a decent closure to this chapter in time you found him at the lobby, his tired figure waiting for the other elevator to go up home. Eyes locking with yours as you stepped out, bag in your shoulder and box in your hand.

"Y/N?" He had muttered, and oh, how long it had been since you felt emotion in his voice as your name fell from his lips.

"I'm sorry." Was all you could say, pleading him to eventually forgive you with your gaze, tears pricking in your eyes as you turned.

You knew that was an image your brain would never manage to forget, the way his eyes were glazed in unshed tears that slowly built, the glint of happiness they once held when they landed on you replaced by the deepest sadness, you'd seen him wear. His heart realizing from your two words more that you could ever tell him, but what hurt you the most was the way he didn't fought you.

He didn't say anything back, he just stood there, watching you leave his life, making you know he understood, that he knew it had to happen even if neither of you wanted to admit it.

You left Park Sunghoon, for good.

When he walked in your apartment and your stuff missing finally sunk on him, you were gone, you weren't his Y/N anymore, but it didn’t pained as much as he thought, brain slowly realizing how it had to be made, calling himself a coward for letting you do it first.

His knees hit the floor, a hand flying to his chest as his heart stung in a weird feeling, a feeling that drowned him but made him feel alive again, but because he was feeling. His heart sensing too much too fast, tears started falling and he started sobbing, all of the hurting he bottled up this past months finally snapping.

Letting you go was hard, but he was no one to fight for you to stay in his life when he had burnt you out. Something in his heart forcing to accept how it was maybe the best, even if it hurt like a bitch.

Maybe it was wrong all along.

Maybe you two were just a chapter that had to happen in each other's lives.

And maybe, losing yourselves to the idea of your love was necessary.

But it all didn't make it less hard.

And now, a year after your silent break up he dared to appear on the show you watched, a small smile on your face as you saw him shine again, maybe not as bright as before you, but far brighter than how you left him. At least you now knew all this pain wasn't for nothing, and he from his stage hopes you are starting to shine again, just as how you did when he fell in love.

Because even if you once were his all just as he was yours, you are now two strangers in hopes for the other to shine.

To you, Sunghoon was just an idol.

And to him, you were a person he once knew.

This is a work of fiction, people mentioned or involved are actual human beings and none of this work is based on actual facts over the celebrities mentioned nor is intented to portray them in a realistic way.

Any problem detected on the information given may be comunicated to me via DM.

#enhypen x reader #enhypen #enhypen imagines #enhypen drabbles #enhypen angst #enhypen fluff #sunghoon x reader #sunghoon imagines #park sunghoon #enhypen sunghoon #sunghoon angst #sunghoon x y/n #sunghoon fluff #sunghoon #enhypen x y/n

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lvlyhao · 3 years

Text

『127′s ideal type』

headcanons, NCT 127

A/N: je suis back~ in these headcanons i talk about the type of person i imagine each member with, along with some of the traits i think they wouldn’t be too fond of. i did NOT include physical traits (ex: “would like a short/tall/blonde s/o”) because i really don’t know them??? lmao also that kind of thing could be a bit damaging to someone’s self esteem, and i want yall to know ur perfect & beautiful so

mark and hyuck will be included in dream’s version of this, and sicheng will be in wayv’s :)

today’s gif theme is just random gifs i like bc idc, there’s no aesthetic

as always, this is gender-neutral

IF YOU LIKE MY WORK PLEASE REBLOG IT AS WELL AS LIKING IT T^T

𝓖𝓮𝓷𝓻𝓮𝓼: fluff (♡) and if you squint really hard angst (❆) bc of some REALLY small things that for me are not actual angst but oh well

𝓦𝓪𝓻𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼: i think none?? if you read this and find something you think should be here let me know please!!!

word count: 1.5K

pairing: nct 127 members x reader (includes taeil, taeyong, johnny, yuta, doyoung, jaehyun, jungwoo)

disclaimer: the characters in the story below do not reflect real people or present real facts. this is purely fictional, and you may not copy, change, translate or repost my work in any way. all rights reserved © cherry-hyejin 2021.

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

Taeil

I see Taeil getting with someone who’s not only mature (personality-wise, actual age doesn’t matter) but also very determined and decisive. He’d like a person that doesn’t change their mind about things too often, learns well from their mistakes and is just all-around balanced. Other traits that I think he’d look for: politeness, a MUST; grounded; good at giving advice. Pretty much a twin-flame of his.

I think he’d find it cute if they think in a detail-oriented way and appreciate the small things in life. A positive, grateful mentality would be SO attractive to him, I swear.

One of his deal breakers would most likely be excessive jealousy and possessiveness. He trusts you and your love for him, and I think he’d feel distraught if you were constantly questioning the relationships he has with other people (friends, co-workers, fans, etc.)

Last important thing: needs a person that can take a hit. He’s probably looking for someone he can spend the rest of his days with, so a quitter just isn’t good for that. There will be difficult moments in the future and he needs to know they won’t give up on him and on the life he chose.

Taeyong

I think Taeyong would like a calm person that knows how to take control of the relationship. He probably feels tired sometimes from leading a group of 23 people, so I can imagine he’d be thrilled if he was able to not worry at all when he’s around his partner. He trusts they’re capable of dealing with any problems that may arise and keep their feet on the ground. Bonus points if they have a good relationship with themselves.

By that I mean: you know how people say you can’t truly love others until you love yourself? Yeah, that. He’s a person like any other, and there are times when he struggles with self-love, but he needs someone that doesn’t hate themselves, or he’ll simply go crazy. With his career come so many rumours and moments that tear at his confidence… he just doesn’t need a person that has to be convinced every single day that they’re worthy of the good things in life.

I’d say, in general, all he asks for is someone that can watch out for themselves. He’d take care of them too, but he’d like it SO much if just for once in his life he’s the one being cared for. Would just melt on the spot if you have that caring, almost parental instinct in you. Gods, yes. That’s all I can say.

Johnny

I can see him being with a very bright, smart person. He’d like someone that comes from a different background so he could learn more about their life—whether that means the country they were born in or their field of work. I think he would appreciate a very laid back person that doesn’t get stressed too often and won’t make fun of him for his bad jokes. Also, doesn’t like people that try to play him. Honesty above all.

He’d like it if they are super curious and creative, too. Picking up new hobbies and interests is something he’d be up to anytime, and it doesn’t matter what it is either. He’d give anything a try—from knitting to marine biology, no questions asked.

Something he’d dislike is if the person is too materialistic. It’s not like he’s a completely spiritual being and lives with 0 detachments to objects but he’s a firm believer in what Antoine de Saint-Exupéry said: what is essential is invisible to the eye. And, you know, what you truly find essential is up to you; it can mean family, friends, love, hope, all of that… he just wants you to love life itself as much as he does.

Yuta

He’d probably like one of the two drastic variants: a very gentle, sweet person or someone who’s on his level of flirtatiousness and boldness. Wouldn’t mind any, but he needs a strong personality, either way, you know? No blandness here.

Something very attractive to him is being involved in social issues and caring for the world around you. Very sexc, yes, and also likes people that make others smile.

Something that would make him quite literally give up on someone is the excessive fear of change, or just the will to remain in their comfort zone at all costs. He earns for a person that wants to live life to its fullest. If not they’re not ride-or-die to that level, then he hopes they at least accompany and support him in all of the things he wants to do.

One thing that is very tied to that is his dislike for know-it-alls. He lives in such a diverse scenario that it’s just dumb for him to think someone would ever be capable of knowing every piece of information on everything that’s out there. He’s fine with people making mistakes, but if they can’t admit to that or admit they don’t know something he just gets pissed off. So, yeah, he’d avoid stuck-ups.

Doyoung

He’d like someone very loyal and fair, who treats people with respect but calls them out if they ever have to. I think he’d prefer a person that is naturally a deep thinker and wouldn’t lose their mind over small disagreements.

Much like Johnny, he likes that intellectual side of yours, and when I say that I don’t mean like “ah, he’d want to date a math genius” or something. No, no. I’m referring to all types of intellectuality and intelligence. The thing for him is simply using your brain and being proud of it. He would just dislike a person that kind of lives life on autopilot, you know?

He’d like it if they’re interested or professionally involved with music somehow and would consider their opinions in his career. He wouldn’t mind if their taste is hugely different from his, though. It’s alright if pop music is not your favourite or if you have no idea who EXO is (lol). All he wants is to see the world through your eyes too, in all aspects of life including this one.

Will also love you forever if you side with him when he’s being teased by the others, because, c’mon, it’s always 22 people against poor, defenceless Doyoung. Please don’t join them, he’s begging you—

Jaehyun

This is very, very clear to me but he needs to be with an independent person. He’s quite sentimental and he has his more romantic moments, sure, but he wants someone that can give him the space he needs when he needs it. A person that’s constantly begging him for attention would be way more of a burden than anything else.

Also, he’s 100% alright with someone that has a very explicit and loud love language (like saying “I love you” 300 times a day) but he’s not like that, and he needs them to see that. Jaehyun could NOT be with a person that doesn’t appreciate the love he shows in the little things, like making coffee in the morning, and if they ever question the way he feels… yeah, not good. He’d feel misunderstood and that’s a big no-no.

He’d find it cute if they’re bubbly or just very youthful but is also capable of falling for an old soul that shares his interests in things like classical music and vinyls. I don’t think he’d ever get with someone that's kind of a tech addict, though, idk why but that’s quite clear to me. Always being on your phone or caring too much about social media would probably make him feel like you’re not grateful for the things you have around you, in real life. So, yeah, not attractive, bestie.

Jungwoo

Jungwoo is a very, very, very sweet person and he needs someone who’s also like that. He wouldn’t care if that’s there for everyone to see, in the sense that they’re not shy about it, or if it’s a part of them that only a couple of close people know. As long as it’s there, he’s happy.

Aside from that, I think he’s fully capable of falling in love with quite literally anyone. He can see the beauty in all types of people, from all places, backgrounds, races, and just—anyone. He’s just so full of love for people, ah I can’t even. He’s too good for this world.

Some things that could, however, push him away from getting to know someone: a negative way of thinking, being too traditionalistic, and too much scepticism. He’s fine with people that like to honour the past and their roots but like, you’ve gotta keep up with the world you live in and accept that things change. I think that’s very tied to how much he likes defying masculine standards, too.

The scepticism thing is quite simple: he can handle teasing just fine but if they’re constantly making fun of him for wearing his heart on his sleeve or being a bit goofy, he’d feel kind of betrayed.

---

final notes: this is the 3rd nct work i’m posting here and i’m already writing more, so i think it’s time i set up a masterlist, a fic rec blog and a tag list. if you want to be tagged in my future fics, let me know (dm, comments, anything) :)

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reidswritings · 4 years

Text

even after all these years

word count; 7.2k

warnings; mentions of death, stalker stuff, mentions of guns, curse words, and angst angst angst

authors note; so this was like 3 days in the making, so i hope yall enjoy!! please let me know what yall think!! ignore any typos im doing my best 😁😁

two years ago;

“I’m done.” She had said after the door closed, once they were alone. Once there was no one to stop what was going to happen. Once there was no one to talk some sense into The Young Girl.

The Pretty Boy, who she had come to love more that she ever thought possible, was no longer standing pretty in front of her. His once love filled eyes—the hazel beauties that used to look at her with so much admiration now were void, cold— were holding back the tears she knew he so desperately wanted to let flow (but wouldn’t with her standing there). She knew that once she left him, he’d break down. She knew that he would spend all of his nights on the couch rather than the bed they shared for so long. She knew that he would rather die than look at the happy pictures on the walls sans the few that she had stuffed into her getaway bag. She knew him too well— she knew how he would react once she was no longer the love interest in his story.

She knew and yet she was still doing this to him. She was doing this to him— she was causing him so much destruction and pain, barely batting an eye at him. For being a profiler, he was shitty at reading people’s body language and emotions. Because to him, she seemed fine; she seemed like it was just another day. To Spencer, it seemed like she was bored. To him, it didn’t seem like she was also breaking. It didn’t seem like she was hurting just as much. Maybe if he was better, he would’ve seen. Maybe if he was better, he could’ve stopped it. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

The eyes that she had fallen in love with—that she was still hopelessly in love with— were dark, almost black. He had a white piece of gauze taped against his neck, covering a once life threatening bullet hole. There was a red spot, small bits of blood seeping through the stitches holding his skin together. If she wasn’t so preoccupied she would’ve thrown up from how much the injury bothered her. She would’ve gotten so worked up that she would’ve passed out.

Her eyes burned with tears, looking at the goddamn wound that started this all. The wound that ended their relationship. She blinked and it was over for her. Her façade dropped and her tears rolled over her eyelashes and onto her cheeks. Spencer’s arm twitched before he jerked it back to his side, fingers clenched. He wanted to wipe her tears away so desperately. Despite the words that had just passed her perfect lips, he still wanted to hold her like his life depended on it— because honestly, it really did.

She was his life preserver in the wild sea that was his life.

The Boy was holding his keys in his hands, jingling the metal with his fingers in attempt to calm his heart, his mind, his emotions. They had just gotten home. He was in Texas when it happened— he was in Texas working a case when he almost got himself killed. Thankfully, The Team had flew His Girl out and she had been the first face he saw when he finally woke up.

Alex, being the wonderful human she is, had just dropped the two off, leaving only after she admitted to Spencer that she was leaving, too. They had just gotten home and she was springing this on him, out of nowhere. She was doing this to him even after all the people that had already left him. She was doing this to him the same night one of his best friends had just left him. She was doing this at the most inconvenient time— not that any time would be better, he would still be loosing the love of his life either way.

He was sure he hadn’t heard her right. He was sure that he hadn’t just heard His Pretty Girl say the words he thought she’d never say. The words she promised him that she’d never use. She was doing the one thing he was most afraid of; she was abandoning him. . . just like everyone did.

His heart was beating so fast. It was so loud, he was sure she could hear him. He was on the brink of a panic attack. His breath was hitching and he couldn’t stop it. As big as his brain was, he couldn’t wrap his mind around what was happening. His mind was running a mile a minute, carrying a thousand thoughts with it— yet, none of the thoughts were helpful ones. There were no thoughts walking him through his breathing exercises, no thoughts telling him to calm down, no thoughts telling him to speak up.

The only thing on his genius mind was one sentence; She’s leaving me. She’s leaving me. She’s leaving me. She’s leaving—

So, he said, “W-What?” Breathless and choppy. He was having trouble focusing. He needed to sit down. He needed the world to pause for just one second. He needed to get his thoughts in order. He needed to sit, but his legs refused to move. He was stuck. He was stuck in this terrible, awful moment that his eidetic memory would never let him live down. He knew that he would think of this moment for the rest of his life with so much regret in all the things he didn’t say. But still, he was stuck, frozen.

Unable to fix things— unable to make her stay.

“Spence,” She paused, looked down and sighed. She couldn’t look at him. She couldn’t, because if she did she would wrap him up in her arms and never let him go again. She knew if he caught her eye that she would apologize until she was blue in the face. The girl refused to meet his eyes because she knew if she did that she wouldn’t be doing what she was doing. She needed to do this, she couldn’t back down now. “I. . . I can’t do this anymore.”

His voice was low, raspy and broken, “Do what. . .?” He knew what. He wasn’t dumb, he knew what she meant, but he needed to hear her say it. She had to say it or he wouldn’t ever let go. He would be stuck with her for the rest of time. He needed to hear her say it, even if that meant he would be more broken than he had ever been before. He needed this. He needed it even if it killed him.

Now she met his hazel eyes— her favorite part of him, she was committing it to memory because after this, she would never see him again. She knew that. She counted on that. “This, us. Spence, I almost lost you today. . . I can’t do that again. You’re— You’re everything, I-I— you’re my everything. I can’t ask you to quit your job, I won’t be that person. . . So, I’m removing myself. I can’t watch you get killed— I won’t do it, Spencer.”

Everything, all at once, became sharp. It was like his mind could finally form full sentences. He was full of ideas, he was full of air. He knew what he had to do. He knew how to keep her with him.

Before either adult knew what was happening, he was moving, quick on his feet, to the couch. He was throwing open his messenger bag, hands messily pulling things out. He was searching for his phone, he was searching for the one thing he could think of that would save him— save them.

“What are you doing?” Y/N asked him, moving behind him, reaching for his arm, trying to see what had him so worked up. He jerked away from her, grunting in the process. And again, with no words spoken, he was moving again. He was going too fast, he was going to tear his stitches, he was going to hurt his still healing wound. He was now moving into the kitchen, still looking, hope flooding his veins. This was his last chance, he knew that.

“Spencer!” She followed him, just as frantic as the newly hope-filled boy, “Did you hear me?”

She heard him let out a chocked sob, a broken laugh following— though, no humor was tied to it. She stopped in front of him, heart wild, anxiety flowing through her body. He was typing on his phone, chest raising and falling faster than she liked. The girl asked again, “What are you doing?”

He looked up now. His eyes were wild, more so than she had ever seen. He was so worked up that his body was literally twitching with each breath that passed his lips. It scared her, she had never seen him like this. She had never seen him so manic. It hurt knowing she was the cause.

The thought of him like this did nothing for her, though. She still continued on her path of destruction.

“I’m calling Hotch. Telling him I’m done.” He was bringing his phone up to his ear while his mind planned out the words he needed to say to get off The Team. His free hand was holding onto the counter, keeping himself straight up. His knuckles were turning white; Y/N was worried he would break his hand— or the old table. Either way was inadequate. Without it, he was afraid he’d fall to the floor in a mess of tears and anger.

He was doing it, he was doing it. He had figured a way to make her stay, he was going to do it. He would do anything to keep her with him.

The phone was ringing. It was ringing and Spencer could feel his panic draining away with each passing second, his boss was going to answer and everything was going to be alright. His boss, who doubled as his friend, was seconds away from answering the phone, he just knew it.

Everything was working itself out, this would be okay— that is until she intervened.

She was ripping the phone from his hands, hanging up in the process. Spencer felt his breath catch again, his voice was wild as he asked— screeched, “What are you doing?!”

The boy reached for the phone but she whipped it away from his reach, “Stop! Give— Give it back, Y/N!”

“No! I-I’m not letting you throw your life away for something so fucking stupid, Spencer!” Spencer watched her as she began to turn around, walk from the kitchen and probably his life. He couldn’t move again. His phone started to ring in her hands. They both froze, listening to the phone until it turned itself off.

He was following her now, like a lost puppy. He would follow her anywhere. She was the one. She was it for him. There was no one else.

“Y/N. . . please. Please, don’t do this.” He was broken, voice thick with tears. Her back was to him, he stepped closer, hand falling to her shoulder.

He heard her sigh, “Spencer, don’t make this any harder than it already is.”

He begged. He was more broken than she had ever seen him. More than when he lost Maeve. More than when he lost Emily. More than when Elle left him. More than when Alex told him about her son that was so similar to himself. More than when she walked out right after. More than when he talked about his mom. This was it— this was the worst for him. This was his rock bottom. He wasn’t sure he’d ever recover.

This was it for him— there was only darkness after Y/N. He couldn’t see a future without His Girl by his side.

There was no Spencer Reid without Y/F/N Y/L/N.

“Please don’t leave me. You—You promised.”

She turned to face him, face absent of all emotion. A complete 180 from only a few moments ago. She handed him back the outdated phone, along with his crushed up heart. “I lied.”

now;

It wasn’t very often Y/N crossed Spencer’s mind, but when she did it felt like his heart was being ripped from his chest all over again. Spencer’s had his fair share of trauma in his life, but by far Y/N was the one that hurt the most. After watching her walk out of his life—for ever, he’d assumed— he was sure that he wouldn’t ever recover. He did, of course.

It just took longer than he cared to admit.

It took a lot of shedding tears at the most inappropriate times (and things), more support from his friends than he ever thought he’d get, too many late nights playing that last night over and over again in his mind, and way too many calls to his sponsor.

If he was being honest, he was terrified that he would relapse. He was afraid that he would become his old self. He never wanted that; he hated that guy more than he hated anything in his life. He didn’t though— he made her a promise all those years ago and he didn’t break promises. She may have broken all hers but that didn’t mean he broke his.

He had gone those two years without ever seeing The Pretty Girl. He was grateful for that— he knew if he ever did see her again, he’d probably die. Well, not actually, but it would hurt like hell. He was more than positive that if he saw The Beaut that it would feel like he was dying. He knew this because that’s how he felt when she left all those years ago.

He tried not to dwell on that fact— he tried not to think about her.

He really did. He even tried to move on. He tried to love other girls, he tried to let himself go, he tried to find solace in women that weren’t her. It just never came— he never got the peace he so desperately craved.

She was just too unforgettable. She was everything— she was the air that he breathed, the ground he walked on, the smile that he got every time something wonderful happened.

She was everything and it was near impossible to let go of everything.

By now, he had convinced himself, with the help of his BAU family, that he’d never see her again. He had been convinced that it was really over. He was trying to convince himself to let her go. He was trying to lose that tiny piece of hope he carried in his heart with him with every day. He knew he had to let her go— he’d never get what he wanted again. It was time.

Too many years had passed, she wasn’t his anymore.

She was a pretty girl; she had probably settled down by now. She had probably settled for someone. She probably lived in some small town with a dog and a perfect boy that wasn’t him. Her life was probably everything she ever dreamed of.

He liked to think that. He liked to think that she had gotten everything she’d ever wanted. He liked to think that she was happy now. It kept him going, fantasizing about her and her perfect life— the one she created without him.

He never thought he’d see her again. And you know what? He was coming to terms with that.

That was, until the day he did. The day his heart stopped beating again. The day that his breath was knocked from his lungs. The day that he only dreamed about.

Until His Pretty Girl walked through those big glass BAU doors.

The Stunned Boy felt his body betray him. He was suddenly standing, mouth agape and eyes wide, unblinking. She had stopped too, arms clutching a ominous folder to her chest. Spencer drank her appearance in; she hadn’t changed very much. She was still as beautiful as he remembered. She looked absolutely gorgeous.

She was wearing a baggy sweatshirt— Spencer was more than positive that it was his— and frame fitting jeans. She had paired the comfortable outfit with the running shoes she had bought so many years ago. It was ironic because she had bought them to start working out, but never actually got around to doing so.

Spencer met her eyes. They hadn’t changed, they were still the eyes he had fallen in love with. He took a moment to notice that her face was void of any makeup— that was different. She looked tired too; her hair was thrown up into a messy bun, another thing that he noticed was different. She looked absolutely exhausted— he wanted to know why. He wanted to know what had happened to make her look the way she did; what had brought her back— back to him.

Both Spencer and Y/N were still unmoving, despite the world moving around them. His voice came out soft, and he was sure that she couldn’t hear him from across the bullpen. He wasn’t completely sure that he wasn’t dreaming. He spoke anyways, “Y/N?”

She blinked and then her world started again. Her breath was knocked back into her body; she was here for a reason. She needed help.

JJ walked through the doors, coffee in hand, tired eyes heavy on her face. She stopped in her tracks, suddenly awake, upon seeing Y/N. A gasp came from her lips, causing the spell between Spencer and Y/N to end. The unchanged girl turned to her old friend, the smallest smile he had ever seen on her face, “Hi.”

JJ smiled too, arms wrapping around the smaller girl before she could stop them. “Hi! Oh my god, hi! W-What are you doing here?”

Y/N’s eyes met Spencer’s again—he still hadn’t moved— then back to the blonde’s. “Um, I— Um, I need your help.”

Ever so curious, JJ nodded and led her old pal to her desk— the desk that was directly in front of SSA Spencer Reid’s. As they approached, Spencer felt his body lower itself back into his chair. Jennifer pulled an empty chair by her desk, motioning her friend to sit. Now with all three adults sitting, The Beautiful Blonde asked, “What’s happening?”

Spencer pretended to be busy, opening a case folder and staring. Y/N knew he was listening— it never took The Genius Boy more than, like, 10 seconds to read one page. Despite the listening ears, Y/N cleared her throat and began to speak.

She placed the folder onto JJ’s desk. It landed with a soft thump. The blonde flipped it open, keeping eye contact with her friend— soon to be victim of their next case. Page after page of threats laid there for anyone to see, it made Y/N feel quite exposed. She hated this; she hated that this was happening to her.

“I think— I think,” she paused, eyes flicking to Spencer, who was now watching the two girls with no shame, brows furrowed and bottom lip tucked under his teeth, “someone has been following me.”

Y/N felt her leg start to bounce in anxiety, she wished she could rewind the clock and convince herself not to come to the office. She wished she could’ve just pretended that she was safe and that nothing was happening to her. Spencer launched himself to his feet. His heart was anxiety-ridden “What?”

Both girl’s attention moved to The Frantic Boy. His mind was as wild as his curls; there was no way this was happening to him again. It wasn’t fair— why couldn’t his girls just be left alone?

“Um, yeah— I don’t know,” The Young Girl nodded, hands dismissing her thoughts. She felt dumb for coming back, and it showed. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t know where else to go. I know you guys are good at this stuff.”

JJ placed a sympathetic hand on Y/N’s arm, calling her attention back. “It’s good you did.”

The Blonde nodded along with her friend, “Okay, I’ll be right back. I’m gonna show this to The Team, see what we can do. Okay?” She was waving the blank folder in her hands as Y/N nodded. JJ stood, eyeing Spencer, a secret conversation happening between the two.

As soon as the girl left, Spencer claimed her seat. The boy leaned back, one leg crossing over the other— the iconic Spencer stance. Y/N’s hands were folded in her lap, eyes trained on her faded jeans, her mind willing her to be anywhere other than in front of The Boy she broke.

Spencer cleared his throat, His Pretty Girl looked up. “It’s good to see you. . . You, uh, you look good.”

He noticed the slight blush that appeared on her cheeks and nose. His cold heart softened ever so slightly. It was like a window had opened and his anger bit by bit flew out. Even after all these years he was still head over heals for her. She scoffed, tucking a piece of hair back into her bun, “. . . Shut up.”

“No, seriously. You haven’t changed at all.” More blush on her cheeks. More anger out the window.

Y/N licked her lips— a nervous tick, Spencer noticed, “Spencer, I—”

His heart sped up at her words, mind wondering what she was going to say. He hoped it was the apology he’d wanted for the past two years. He wished it was her asking for him to take her back. He wished, he wished, he wished.

“—Y/N, we’re ready for you now.” JJ’s voice interrupted the girl. Both Y/N and Spencer turned to The Blonde who was standing in the door of the round table room. Her hand was clutching the door as she leaned out. Y/N could see in the room, thanks to the floor to ceiling window directly next to Jennifer. The entire Team was inside, Y/N’s heart skipped a beat. She hadn’t seen any of them since she did what she did to Spencer. She wondered if they held any anger towards her. If they did, she deserved it. After what she did to Spencer she deserved everything unwelcoming and bad.

The Boy Wonder sensed her anxiety. He stood up, encouraged her to as well. Once she did so, he led her into the room, all their eyes landing to her. Spencer and His Pretty Girl came to a stop in the room, standing side by side. Y/N could feel the warmth radiating of the boy next to her, it calmed her nerves. She missed that— The Spencer Effect.

“It’s so good to see you again, Y/N,” that was Emily. Emily Prentiss; best friend of Spencer Reid. Her eyes, Y/N noticed held a bittersweet tone, “Wish it was under different circumstances, though.”

Her eyes looked at each and every member of The Team— none of them held any judgement or anger. Sure, some held sadness, others held understanding, but mostly, she saw compassion. She should’ve known; she used to spend every weekend with these people— she should’ve known they wouldn’t hold anything against her. She should’ve known.

Holding the pages that Y/N had printed out, JJ spoke first. “Well, it looks like its all been online?”

The victim nodded then coughed, “Well. . . actually, last night, I found this outside my apartment.” Out of her purse, she pulled yet another folder. Handing it to Spencer, she rocked on her feet. Inside the folder was picture after picture of Y/N. Many were captured when she was in the public eye, doing errands, hanging with friends, walking her pup. The part that caused Spencer’s blood to run cold were the few at the end.

Whoever was terrorizing Y/N, had managed to get into her apartment and capture pictures while she was sleeping, showering and even lounging on her couch— though the last bunch were from outside a window, most likely on her patio.

The boy tossed the pictures on the table in anger, the rest of The Team all began to sort through them. Surprising Y/N, and The Team, he did a full 180 and stormed from the room. Against her better judgement, she watched him go. Her eyes followed his every movement. Even after all these years, her eyes still watched every move her boy executed.

Before she could protest, her feet were carrying her to Spencer. He was pacing in front of his desk, hands nervously rubbing over one another. A tick that she remembered Spencer often doing.

“Spencer?” She asked. It was soft and innocent. It was everything Spencer had missed and that pissed him off.

“Y/N?” The tone surprised her. It was harsh, different from how he was treating her only a few minutes prior.

“Are you okay?” He laughed but didn’t answer her question, so she tried once more. “What’s wrong? . . . Spence?”

“No—!” He turned to face her now. His outburst surprised her (and apparently The Team too, as they had all stopped what they were doing to watch the horrific scene unfold. Yet none of the six moved to help The Broken Girl. She deserved that— she deserved the harsh words that were leaving the boy she loved so much), he continued, “You— you don’t get to call me that anymore. You lost that privilege when you left.”

That hurt, but she let him get it out. She knew it was years in the making— she knew it was healthy for him to express himself, even if it was all the anger he accumulated the past two years. He wasn’t yelling anymore, but his tone held all the anger he had been holding for the past two years. The boy’s hands made their way into his curls, pulling at the root. Y/N’s eyes were wide, mouth stuck open.

“Spencer, I-I’m sorry!” Tears were stinging her eyes, causing The Beautiful Boy to go blurry. She was absolutely positive that Spencer could see her unshed tears and she hated herself for it. She felt so fucking stupid. She shouldn’t have come— it was stupid to think he would ever help her.

“Yeah? Well, it’s too late now, Y/N.” He stepped towards her, she took a step back. His heart took the bullet, but he didn’t let it show. And before he could stop the word vomit, he brushed past her, knocking shoulders and said, “You shouldn’t have come back.”

She watched, blurry eyed, as the boy who she still loved ran up the BAU steps and back to the round table. She felt her breath hitch and then she felt her body lower itself into the chair that just so happened to be Spencer’s. She needed to get a control on her emotions. She couldn’t break down— she needed to help The Team help her.

Finding a stalker was hard work, apparently, because it was nearing the late hours of the night and there was still no face to the tyrant who so badly wanted Y/N’s attention. The Team was beginning to burn out, frustrated with the lack of answers. With the lack of safety for their old friend. With the lack of anything that wasn’t naked pictures of Spencer’s Old Girl and threats directed from some deranged place of love.

After Spencer’s meltdown, the two hadn’t talked— let alone made eye contact. It wasn’t without effort though, Y/N had been doing her best to get The Boy Wonder to look her way. Unfortunately though, he seemed to have his own thoughts on the matter. He had kept his back to her for the last three hours. Instead, focusing on the white board in front of him.

Taped to one side of the board were pictures of Y/N as well as the threats she had received in the past few months. Spencer could barely look at that side— he had been focusing his efforts on the left bit. His eyes had been locked on the few leads they did have. Which, to be summed up, was nothing. The Team had The Victim look at the men on the wall— none of which she knew, to their disappointment. This discovery drove them no farther than they were when the girl first walked in.

It was when Y/N was growing antsy again when Hotch’s rough voice spoke up. “We’re not getting anything done here. I think we take the night and come back with fresh eyes. Yes?”

A moment passed, then two. No one moved to disagree with the boss. Y/N stayed put in her seat, watching as her old friends began to pack up their belongings and file out— not without a few comforting words in passing. The Young Girl sighed, standing too, until she noticed a certain genius still staring at the wall, arms crossed.

He had abandoned the sweater that he once wore and was now sporting his well-fitting button down. And damn, it looked good. It was this deep maroon color that he wore so well (Her eyes committed the image to memory, not wanting to forget what a handsome hunk he was. Because, honestly, she knew after all this was done, she’d never be seeing him again). He had rolled the sleeves up to his bicep and unbuttoned the top two buttons, as well as losing the tie that once brought the whole look together. His beautiful curls were aggressively frizzy, sticking up in all the wrong places. It took everything in her not to reach up and fit it, like she used to.

She wanted to speak, she wanted to reach out to the boy. She knew that he hated her— she knew that he was beyond angry with her. She had so many things she needed him to know— needed him to understand. But, now wasn’t the time. Now definitely wasn’t the time to get into the nasty bits that was their past. No, now was the time to save her from the impending doom of this goddamn stalker.

“Spencer?” She asked, before she could stop herself. The boy turned, aggravated— with her, with the situation, with everything. His arms dropped, hands stuffing themselves in his pockets. He bounced on his feet, eyes tired. She continued, “I-I know that you hate me—”

“— I don’t hate you,” It was a lie. She knew that. She knew he was lying, she knew that he was just saying things to make her feel better.

So, she said, “Look, I, um— do you think— could you—”

The angry boy, who’s anger was once again draining with every breath— she had that effect on him—sighed and let the tension leave his body, “Do you want me to take you home?”

Sheepishly keeping the eye contact she had longed for, for so long, she nodded. The girl pulled her arms into her chest, “That would be really great. . . only if you can, though. I don’t want to put you out.”

Another sigh and another bullet to the heart— only this time to Y/N’s and not her ex lover’s. Spencer collected his few things and placed a soft hand on her back, leading her out. And just for a moment, for a moment, it felt like old times. It felt like everything was okay and that they were going back to their place and that everything was perfect.

Sadly though, life was no fairy-tale for the two and there was no perfect ending. The two once lovers sat in the boy’s car, silent and awkward. They were only a few streets from Spencer’s—their old place— place, stopped at a red light. The light was finding it’s way into the car, flashing a beautiful hue on the boy next to her. One of his hands was holding tight to the wheel, the other was laying on the arm rest between them. It took every bone in the girl’s body to not reach out to feel him— it had been so long. She missed his touch.

Maybe it was that feeling that made her do it. Maybe it was just how beautiful he looked that made her say it. Maybe it was the love that she still carried for him (even after all these years) that made her tell him.

“I’m afraid to be alone.” It was quiet and it held all the emotion she had been hiding all day. Spencer’s heart, though ever angry, broke a little for her.

The boy looked over, his mouth opening to ease her in whatever way he could. Before a word left his mouth, the light turned green and the spell was broken between the two. He pushed through, foot pressing on the gas, “You, uh, you can stay with me, if you want.”

“Really?”

“Well, i-it’s just until after we catch this guy.” He paused, blinker on, car passing, turning left, “Then, you go back to whatever life you created.”

“—I didn’t—”

“And then, I’ll go back to pretending you didn’t break me.” Yet another bullet to the heart. She deserved that though, she knew it too.

“I’m sorry, Spencer.”

Another pause of conversation, another blinker and another turn. Then they were home— they were back to Spencer’s. The walk to the small apartment wasn’t a long one. Especially with her body leading the way— muscle memory. What surprised her most was that he hadn’t changed much. Books still cluttered the tables and floors, globes and maps still sporadically placed around each room. The only thing that caught her eye was the lack of photos on the walls— what used to be a map of their relationship was replaced with a white wall.

“Looks the same.” she nodded, unmoving from her awkward stance by the door. “Looks like you.”

He snorted— though, there was no actual humor bedded within. Y/N watched as he stripped his bag from his body, then slipped off his shoes and off with his jacket. They stood together, wishing it was different. Wishing they could go back. Wishing there was no anger. Wishing, wishing, wishing. They’d be wishing for the rest of time.

Like before, like the last night, he was moving fast, breath hitching, “How long?”

“How long?” She echoed him, moving too. Still under the spell, she’d follow him anywhere.

“How long have you—” The boy cut himself off, hands in his curls, pulling them apart—unmarrying the best ones. “How long have you had this problem and not done anything?”

Before she had a chance to tell him, he was whirling on the poor girl, eyes wild, “You should’ve came to us— came to me.” His voice broke at the end, and Y/N could’ve kicked herself for causing him all this pain.

The heartbreaker sighed, “Spencer—”

“Y/N, I’m not playing around. How long?”

A sigh, a look to the floor, then back at him, “I don’t know, really. Maybe six months?”

Another sigh, this time from Spencer. He was sitting on the couch now, defeated, head in hands. “Maybe?”

“I’ve kind of had other things on my mind, Spencer!” It was bitter, angry, but not at him. It was directed at the jackass that had been stalking her. She joined him on the old seat, leaning back and pulling her legs off the floor.

A moment passed between the two— it wasn’t angry or awkward and didn’t hold any resentment, it was just comfortable and that surprised the two considering they hadn’t seen each other in over two years. It was just so easy to fall back into what they used to be.

She looked over at her boy. The window’s curtains were pushed open, the street lights making their way in. Spencer had turned on a lamp in the corner, as well. It was mixing with the lights from outside and casting a beautiful glow on her boy. He was looking down at his hands that were folded in his lap. A pensive look had made its home on his face.

“What’s goin’ on in that big brain of yours?” Y/N laughed, quiet and everything he had missed. The girl bumped shoulders with the boy next to her. He managed a smile, small, but still it was there. Y/N counted that as a victory.

The smile was gone as quickly as it appeared. Spencer cleared his throat and said, “Did you know that sixty-eight percent of stalking victims reported that their stalker physically harmed them?”

Another beat passed. Spencer had turned to look at her now, eyes heavy. Y/N was looking at her knees now, trying to ignore the fear that wanted to bubble up. “And?”

“A-And?” His whole body turned now, one leg folded between the two. His arm closet to the couch had made home on the top of the sofa back, fingers tapping— nervous tick. He had placed other hand on Y/N’s knee, trying to be comforting. She accepted his attempt, thankful for him. “Y/N, I’m saying that could’ve been you. You should’ve come to me when this first started.”

Y/N finally let her eyes meet his. And god, she could’ve cried right then and there. He was so beautiful. She missed him so much. Breaking her spell, she shook her head, “Spencer. . . I didn’t want to ruin anything you might’ve had going on.”

“Ruin any— Y/N/N, you’re not ruining anything by asking for help.” The boy sighed, looking away. His hand tightened once on her leg and her stomach erupted in the same way it always did with him around. Quieter, so quiet she almost missed it, he said, “The only way you’d ruin anything would be by leaving.”

“I’m sorry, Spencer.” The girl caught his eye again, shaking her head. Tears blurred her eyes again. Her hair, now out of it’s bun, fell into her face. With a shaky hand, Spencer batted it back behind her ear. A blush rose on her cheeks, as Spencer’s hand moved to wipe the few tears that had managed to fall. Her voice was thick with tears and it broke him. “I really am, you know?”

A sigh, then a nod from her boy. “Can I ask you something?”

“Always, Spence.” The name struck a cord in his heart, but he let it slide. He had no more energy to fight with her, no more energy to stay angry with his girl. He had nothing left. He was giving up his angry phase— he was letting it flow from his body like sand through sieve. He was giving in to her and the small bits of love that he still held for the beauty in front of him.

“Why’d you do it? Leave, I mean.”

Yet another bullet to her heart. “. . . I don’t know.”

He was moving again. His hands pulled away from her body as if she had burned him— because honestly, she might as well have. With that bullshit response, she might as well have slapped him— to him, there would’ve been no difference and the outcome would’ve been the same. He stood up, back to her. His hands came back up to his hair and she willed him not to pull apart the remaining curls. “That’s bullshit, Y/N! And you know it. . . I-I’m sorry. Just, just don’t lie to me anymore.”

Y/N stood too, arms up in surrender. Arms open like he had a gun pointed at her— because to her, there was no difference between the weapon he wore on his hip everyday and the weapon that spilled from his lips. His back was still to her, so she reached out to touch his shoulder. Careful, not to startle the boy. She wanted to see him, she needed to see him. For a second, her breath was gone, her mind taking her back to that night. She could’ve laughed at how similar the situation was, only reversed. Only now, she was the one begging to be touched, to be listened to. Only now, she was the one who was broken.

Instead of jerking away like he did all those years ago, he turned, sadness present on his face. Y/N’s heart broke for him. Y/N’s heart broke for herself. Her heart broke for the both of them. “I was scared, okay? I was just so scared.”

He turned fully, hands mindlessly finding their way to her hair. They tangled themselves in, tilting her head up. His voice was lower than she had ever heard. It was just barely above a whisper and she fucking loved it. If they were in a different situation, she would’ve been weak in the knees. “Scared? What, Y/N/N?”

She sighed, “I don’t know. . . Scared I’d lose you, scared you’d get hurt and I wouldn’t be there in time. I was just scared, Spence.”

Maybe it was her words that caused his reaction. Maybe the truth he could see behind them. Or maybe it was the emotion that felt so genuine. Whatever it was, he felt himself loosen. He felt the remaining anger dissipate, he was suddenly forgiving her for everything. Because he finally understood. He, for once, wasn’t having to jump to conclusions. For once, he felt they were equals. And because of this, he was pulling her closer, never wanting to let her go. And she was holding him just as tight.

“I’m sorry.” The words were spoken, truthful. Only this time, they weren’t coming from her. No, this time, they were coming from The Tall Genius. And she was pulling back.

“Sorry? Why are you sorry?”

The boy laughed, true and genuine. For once, she could see it reach his eyes. She’s always loved that about him— the fact that he was always able to smile through it all. Through all his pain, he was still able to find the happiness. “I’m at fault too, you know. One person can’t cause all of the destruction.”

“No, you’re perfect.” She believed it too.

“Trust me, I’m not perfect.” He paused, then added. “At all.”

Her hands made their way home— to the sides of his face. She noticed the way he leaned into her touch— he had missed her just as much. Maybe even more. “You’re perfect to me, Spence.”

He laughed again— music to her ears. She wished she could listen to it for the rest of her life. So, she said, “Don’t ever let me go, okay?”

He nodded, suddenly serious, “We’ll get this guy, and then I’ll never let you go again. Not until the day I die.”

And like she had wanted to since she had seen him earlier in the day, she pulled him to her. A kiss shared between them wouldn’t fix everything, but it sure was a start (and that’s all that mattered). “Not even then.”

A dazed look in his eyes. The same one he had after every shared kiss and every time she said she loved him. Though mind far off, he nodded and agreed, “Not even then.”

Then he kissed his girl again— like his life depended on it.

Because, even after all these years, it probably did.

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