#second pic is all the second hand books i got this summer | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

an-annyeoing-writer · 2 years

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librarian!Kai x Reader: act on it. [+18]

Word count: 4204

Date of release: 16.08.2022

Rating: +18

Genre: smut

Warning: explicit s*xual themes, humiliaton (as a form of k*nk)

Notes: I know there's some drink in the moodboard picture, it's not related though, just the pic itself looked suitable.

Part 1.: martymachlia.

“What can I help you with?”

The man sat straight behind his desk, a very white shirt covering his upper body and the same vest as always sticking close to his silhouette, highlighting his proportions. His hair was slightly disheveled, probably because of his endless attempts to fix it throughout the day; the temperature inside was quite high, the AC must have broken and the workers probably had to suffer the most. But you didn’t mind. Not when he loosened the collar of his shirt, as though to purposely expose the outline of his collarbones...

What a fucking eye candy.

“U-um, I need some materials on public finance management, could you recommend me anything by any chance?” you spoke, forcing your eyes away and towards the other librarian – a middle-aged woman that sat behind the desk while the man sat a bit further, consumed with another visitor of the place, borrowing a book at the moment. The girl he talked to smiled politely and walked away with a psychology book in her hand. It was a mere accident that when you walked in, out of the two librarians only this woman was free, but then, would you even have the guts to come up to him if it wasn’t the case?

“Sorry, honey, it’s not really my field, but the economy section would be…”

“I think I know some good ones” came voice from your right and your breath hitched; you stayed calm despite that, turning your head in the man’s direction. He was smiling politely, just like he did at the girl who left moments ago. “Give me a second, I’ll find them.” Going back to the computer screen, he started digging; you stared calmly in the silence that fell upon the three of you, although the woman merely smiled at you and busied herself with something else, letting her associate take care of this particular matter.

All you could do was to fondle your hands in front of you and wait patiently, with a small ounce of nervousness appearing in your stomach; you questioned everything.

Did he remember you? He surely did remember the thing that happened, but would he recognize you? You obviously remembered him well; it’s him who you got off to, you thought, clearing your throat to mask embarrassment. And there’s only one librarian who made your heart beat faster, of course you would recognize him. But there were hundreds of visitors every day that he talked to, and you didn’t really stick out. It’s been weeks since the last time you were here, too. Your face most likely got erased from his mind, and he probably had no clue who you were.

“Here. I have two titles that should help you with anything you may need. Would you like to borrow them or use while in here?” he asked, raising his eyes and sparing you a hundred percent innocent and clueless glance.

You cleared your throat once more, realizing that it’ll be hard to speak otherwise.

“H-here” you mumbled. Your cheeks burned. You were behaving so immaturely that you wanted to jump off a cliff. Anyone would think you’re simply crushing on an older (probably?), handsome man, and acting like hormone-possessed teenage girl. And hell, they wouldn’t be that far from reality. But if they knew your sins, they definitely wouldn’t call you a girl anymore.

More like a slut, you deadpanned in your thoughts.

“I think one of them is on the highest shelf, so…” He wrote something on a piece of paper and got up, coming from behind the desk. “I’ll get them for you, come with me.”

He walked into the rows of bookshelves and you followed him without a word.

It was an early evening, with the reddening sun glowing through the windows and slipping through the holes among the books on the shelves; the temperature was finally going down, to your relief, because even in the fairly summer-like clothing, walking around during the day was especially tiring. Not many people decided to leave their houses on such days, and it showed even in the library – there was way less people than you’d expect in the middle of a week. You supposed that most of the regulars already figured out the AC isn’t working so they wouldn’t really come here unless necessary. But then, your work was something you could finish in one evening if you sat and simply got it done. If you decided to take the books home, you’d probably decide you’re too tired and procrastinate through the rest of the evening, again.

The man stopped suddenly, making you almost bump into his back; he turned towards the shelves and looked upwards, looking for the particular title. Finally, he reached up and took down a heavy block of paper, making your eyes widen in terror at its size. The other book, one that he found a few shelves lower, was, to your relief, way smaller. You could only hope that you wouldn’t need to use all of the knowledge these two contained.

“Here.” He extended the books to you and you took them carefully, uttering a small ‘thank you’. “Good luck with these. Hit me up if you need anything else.” He smiled, passing by you.

Before you could stop yourself, you grasped his sleeve with one hand, straining muscles in the other to hold the books in it. The man stopped, turning his head towards you questioningly.

“Hm?”

“Um… I just wanted to ask, um…”

He observed you calmly, with no intent to rush. You stumbled over your own words; your throat felt as if something blocked it…

…and your first thought was that you wished it was his cock doing so.

The man crossed his arms, smiling politely.

“Is there anything else I can help you with?”

You shut your eyes for a brief moment, forcing yourself to relax. With your cheeks still burning so much you must have looked like you were dying, you only shook your head, lowering it to escape his gaze.

But this way, you didn’t see him lean down; it was his voice, dangerously close to your ear, that made your heart drop.

“You sure there’s nothing more you want from me? Just ask, I’m here to serve.”

The whisper was meant for your ears only, you could tell, despite the fact you two were alone as far as your eyes could reach.

“U-uh, what else can you do, other than finding books?” you muttered, a bit daringly, as if trying to boost your own confidence with these words – said confidence was currently crawling on the very floor of the damned library.

“Aren’t you curious?” His hand reached to your chin and urged you, gently, to turn your gaze up, to him. He had a small smirk on his face, a mischievous one; he was dangerously close, yet his fingers brushing your face were all he touched you with. You nodded quickly. “I need your words.”

“I-I uh…” His smirk widened at your awkward attempt at forming a sensible response.

“Hello, could you please help me find this?” The voice echoed somewhere nearby, saving the remains of your dignity. A middle-aged man, with a frown so deep it must have been permanent, nodded gratefully when the librarian turned to face him with a flawless, professional-like smile.

“Of course.”

As if you suddenly didn’t exist anymore, he left your side and walked towards the other guest, leaving you with your heart pounding in your chest, and you breathed heavily for a few moments before managing to calm down, books in your hands getting so heavy you really willed to put them down.

Besides, you had work to do. You couldn’t afford to think of it any longer. With this realization, you forced your sinful side to calm the hell down as you sat down at the nearby desk, starting your project.

An hour passed, soon even two, and more. The project distracted yourself from previous events, and you were so adamant on immersing in it fully that you genuinely forgot about everything else.

It was when you heard some noise coming from the window behind that you realized you may have overstayed a bit, and – looking around – you confirmed that there was no one else left in this area. You glanced at your phone to check the time; holy hell! It was already past 7, and you remembered that the library was closing at that exact time. You looked behind and confirmed that the sound was coming from the window blinds being mechanically dropped down to cover them for the night.

Yet, the light was still turned on and you looked around once again, ensured that there must be just about anyone here. However, no one came across your vision and you decided it’s the right time to take matter in your own hands. You rushed to hide belongings in your bag, then putting the books away on the shelf – not even trying to reach as high up as they belonged, but instead putting them down horizontally on a lower shelf, so that if anyone was to spot them, they’d easily tell why they’re out of place, and hopefully forgive you this minor neglection.

This area of library was a bit further from the front desk and you assumed they didn’t notice you were still here. You definitely needed to hurry if you didn’t want to get stuck in here for the night.

You rushed past the empty front desk towards the exit, and your heart stopped. The exit was already covered with the blinds as well, and trying to check if it’s locked would be a waste of time. You looked around helplessly.

Suddenly, you heard a sound coming from the backroom, some shuffling that must have originated from a living person, and you looked up hopefully.

The librarian came out of the backroom, his hand automatically travelling to the light switch on the wall, and it was only then that he noticed you standing there like a lost puppy, utterly confused and with your bag starting to get heavy on your shoulder.

The man’s eyebrows gradually lifted in a silent amazement, but he spoke no word. Even though the reason for your presence was obvious, he seemed to consciously choose to let you embarrass yourself with explanations.

“U-um” you stuttered. “I-I didn’t notice the time, I’m sorry.”

“We were announcing it through the speakers, like a quarter ago” he replied, crossing his arms and tilting head to the side.

“I didn’t hear” you admitted honestly. “Maybe your speakers are broken.”

“Ah, really.” He shook his head in disbelief. “Come here, I’ll get you out through the staff exit.”

You nodded and quickly walked towards him, where his hand reached to the light switch again to turn the lights off.

But before he could actually use it, something in you switched first, and you suddenly froze, instantly gaining his attention and earning a curious lift of eyebrow.

“U-um.” Your voice quivered; shouldn’t it be calm, now, that you’ve been rescued? Yet, your heart pounded even faster than when you were awaiting said rescue earlier. The librarian stared at you, waiting for you to utter your thoughts.

“Hm?”

He was waiting patiently, although it seemed more like he was relishing in your embarrassment, while knowing very well what was the purpose of it all.

Of course he knew. Of course he recognized you.

“P-please” you spoke – the only thing that managed to get through your lips at that moment. Yet, there was no other sound that broke through and you started rethinking your ideas.

That was, until you heard a small snort coming from the man and you lifted your eyes to look at him, your face burning up to the tips of your ears.

“Cute. But you need to do better than this.”

He clicked on one half of the switch, making the lights go out, but only deeper in the room – the whole front desk was still lighted, although the light became dim and you suddenly became more conscious of the emptiness filling the facility.

Crossing his arms again, he rested his back against the wall next to the switch, looking you up and down with a subtle bite on his lower lip. Judging, maybe menacing – you unwittingly grew excited at the thought of being gawked at and called out.

“You’re not too well behaved, you know it?” He accuses you, and you can’t help but pout at the statement. “But I guess, what can you expect from a pervert like that, right?” You opened your mouth to argue, but he spoke against first before you could defend yourself. “Who knows what made you this way. Maybe it’s the right time to fix it?”

You stared at him with your mouth still open, and he tilted his head to the side, small smirk on his face quite unreadable, but sending butterflies straight into your core when you realized that he’s starting to get into this as well.

“I-I uh.” You took a deep breath in and let it out, trying to calm your voice down when you spoke again. “O-okay. What do you want to do?”

“Well, it depends on what commands you already know.”

“C-commands?!” You were utterly confused at the phrase.

“I said you’re not well behaved” he spoke slowly, pushing himself off the wall and walking past you, towards the front desk. You followed him with your gaze, waiting for him to speak again, but he took his time, finding the armchair behind the desk and rolling it into the open space, then smoothly finding his place in the seat. “Quite the opposite, actually. It looks like you only follow your instincts and no reason. Like a bitch in heat, really.” The words made you dizzy at the realization that he was toying with you fully consciously all along, and you pressed your thighs together, feeling an ache arise in your core. “What about we make you into a good puppy instead, hm?” He leaned on the side of the armchair, spreading his legs ever so slightly, but suggestively. “And what do puppies do? They obey commands, of course.” You grew so embarrassed at the explanation, but you definitely didn’t find it in yourself to argue now. You gingerly pushed your bag off your shoulder and placed it on the floor, your eyes not leaving his as he waited patiently for you. “So, what commands does this bitch know?” When you didn’t reply, he narrowed his eyes at you, letting out an impatient tsk. And then, he pointed down. “Heel.”

You gulped, making one step towards him, but yet another lift of his eyebrows made you rethink it, and soon, you realized – there was nothing keeping your dignity intact anymore, so you could as well just… act on it.

Slowly letting yourself fall down and onto your knees, you crawled forward on all fours instead, making your way to him and stopping at his foot, although your eyes would never leave his own, absolutely mesmerized. He smiled, clearly pleased with your response.

“That was an easy one. What about this one. Down.”

It was a bit awkward, but you let yourself drop even lower, perpendicularly to him, and he didn’t say a word until your stomach touched the floor. You felt confused – how weird it must have looked from his perspective.

“Hm. Roll over.”

Your heart beat so fast when you obediently made yourself lie on your back instead, your knees slightly bent and your arms awkwardly resting on your sides. You had a small frown on your face – what was he going to do? Yet, you didn’t dare to question him – the mere fact of being given commands to fulfill was enough to made you aroused, and you would be satisfied to spend all your day pushed around like that.

Before you could think of anything else, though, you suddenly felt the bottom of his shoe press against your chest. You blinked in surprise.

“You’re really a pathetic puppy, you know that?” he mocked you, his heel pressing into your breasts in a careless way. “Maybe you’d be a better doormat. Or a footrest?” Without missing a beat, his other shoe was suddenly pressed into your crotch and you let out a gasp, bending your knees some more. “Doormat suits you.” He imitated the movement of wiping the soles of his shoes on one, but the thing was pressed between your legs and you let out a low whimper. Before you could relish in the soft feeling, he dug his shoe straight where your clit was, and the pain was so pleasurable that you let out an uncontrolled moan.

The librarian snorted at you.

“Really? Are you enjoying this?” You nodded, completely dazed. “Damn. You’re really a perv.”

The pressure of his foot ceased and he watched you for a few painfully long moments.

“Take your bottom off” he commanded. You didn’t think twice.

You pushed yourself into a seat, kicking your shoes off, then undoing your pants and pushing them down, kicking them off and to the side as well. You hesitated just a bit before doing the same with your underwear, and you were left in just your top, the sensation of being naked, but only from the waist below, felt like a new kind of humiliating, although you weren’t yet so sure, why it would feel this way.

Before you could ask for the next command, the man suddenly bent down and his hand was between your legs, grasping at your womanhood with no gentleness whatsoever, and you realized how wet you became when he smeared it all over your thighs without a second of hesitation.

“Honestly, I’m not even surprised. Did you really get turned on by what I did to you? That’s so sick.” You let out a low moan when he harshly rubbed your clit, and your legs instantly closed, trapping his arm in between, your whole body trembling from the treatment. “What do you think you’re doing? Doormats don’t move as they wish. They are used and stay on the floor where they’ve been laid.” His hand left your core and you whined desperately.

“N-no, please…”

“What? Did you really think I’m gonna indulge you? Come on, you must be smarter than that.” He put his foot on your shoulder, pushing you back down on your back, your hands automatically reaching to cover your exposed womanhood and give it at least a minimum of friction. “You get wet from being degraded, not pleased. That’s honestly hilarious. I could spit in your face and your cunt would leak.”

The words alone did to you so much that you were barely holding yourself together. You felt so humiliated, reduced to your sexual deviations, not even to sex alone, but to the perversion itself; and the fact that your upper half was still fully clothed, no attention given to your other bodily attributes, only amplified that – you weren’t an object of desire even, you were just an object.

You let out a whimper, fidgeting around. You briefly thought that it’s unfair that you’re getting all this attention without giving anything in return, and your hand reached up to his thighs, wanting to at least try to return the favor.

The librarian didn’t stop you; he leaned back and watched you daringly as you pushed yourself up into a seat and started undoing his pants. God, if there would be anything better than getting absolutely used by him, it would be to be the tool that does the job themselves, so that he doesn’t need to put any more effort. You felt so lowly, no dignity left when you finally got a look at his manhood, but his hand was suddenly on your head, not giving you any more time to admire, pushing your mouth onto the hard shaft and making you gag right away, not even half of it in.

“Seriously? That’s so pitiful as for a whore. Come on, you can do better.” His fingers tangled in your hair as he pushed himself deeper into your mouth, your gagging completely ignored, his cock pushing past your limits of comfort, stretching your throat slowly, but without a second of hesitation. “Here you go.”

Every second of it was painful and uncomfortable, and you thought that your throat could actually rip, but he made sure to do it with proper patience, and you only felt it stretch gradually. Your mouth felt so full and overwhelmed. Your hands rested on his knees, you were still sitting – if you were kneeling, you thought, it would be easier to control the pace, but like this you kept no balance, and he kept full charge of your movements. You held onto his pants tightly, but didn’t even try to push away; the pain was so good, so freeing, felt so right. It didn’t take minutes before you could take him in whole, and, although it still hurt, you felt so proud at the thought that he can fuck your face without any restraint. Damn, did it feel good.

You still gagged once in a while, coughing whenever you had a chance to. But he didn’t give you many of these – without a moment of relief, only using your mouth however was convenient to him, eventually not even giving you a chance to prove yourself as he wrapped both arms around your head, pushing himself all the way down your throat with a final, strained moan escaping his lips, selfishly emptying himself straight into your stomach.

When he finally pulled his cock out of your mouth, tears ran your cheeks and a mix of your saliva and his cum ran down your chin and stained your blouse, already dirty from all the rolling on the floor, but now wet as well – you had no idea how you’d get back home in this state, but you didn’t necessarily want to care about it right now.

What you cared about, though, was the librarian’s relieved face as he leaned back in his chair, letting his eyes slip closed as he relaxed. You also took this time to breathe out in relief.

The kind of drowsy, hazy peace that you felt, was as if you were the one to cum yourself, and you had no idea if your body didn’t betray you like that, despite having abandoned your own pleasure a while ago. You didn’t care, though, leaning into the man’s thigh to let the high wear off and your throat to finally rest, feeling so fulfilled and at ease, finding recognition in the position you found yourself in, the mere sexual need abandoned for the sake of a deeper, darker kind of pleasure.

“You’re not so well behaved, either” you suddenly concluded, a breathy laughter echoing above you in response. You reciprocated it with your own croaky cackle, working wonders to relieve the remaining tension in the air.

You rested between the stranger’s legs for a bit longer than it would be considered appropriate, but neither of you spoke a word for the few minutes that it took to let the emotions fall down.

“I-I um, I think I need to go home” you suddenly realized, awkwardly picking yourself up and reaching for the clothes you abandoned nearby. You wouldn’t dare to look yourself in the mirror. Mere glance down made you realize your blouse needed a really good wash to get every kind of disgrace out of it.

The librarian looked at you warmly.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to return the favor?”

You bit on your lip.

“I… uh, I did enjoy it. There’s no favor to return” you announced honestly. “Maybe, uh. Maybe. Next time? If you want to ever… uh.”

The two of you patiently finished getting yourselves together, the only remains of what happened left on you – your dirty shirt, your tangled hair and reddened face, even after you wiped it with a tissue.

“You should definitely come back sometime” he stated confidently, with his eyes trained on your ruined shirt. “For example, to return my clothes, because I ain’t letting you go out like this” he added, pathing towards the backroom with you, pulling out a gray hoodie and handing it to you, which you took with gratitude, putting it on to cover whatever was left underneath.

“U-um, thanks.”

“So, um.”

“Um.”

“I think I need to close the library now” he announced, leading you towards the exit, and the two of you finally made your way out through the backdoor.

“I’ll be going, too.”

“Sure. Have a good night” he said with a warm smile, its straightforward innocence contrasting with what he’d done moments earlier in every possible way.

“You too.” You reciprocated the smile, already turning around to path your way.

But, before the two of you could walk more than a few steps apart, you suddenly stopped, struck by a realization. The librarian did the same upon hearing you shuffle, and looked at you quizzically.

“Actually” you started, your face getting even redder now. You pressed your lips together. “Actually, what’s your name?”

Please, reblog if you enjoyed!

Check out my masterlist for more!

#kdiarynet #exosnet #exowritersnet #kai x reader #exo kai #exo jongin #kim jongin #jongin x reader #kai fanfiction #exo fanfiction #exo x reader #vg: exo #vg: kai #vg: fanfiction

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fourseasonsfigs · 1 year

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Fig Fashion Week: Fendi Blue Bud Han

Today we have the matching Zhehan to yesterday's LV Blue Ice Jun. They weren't sold together, but the fig maker designed them together.

The inspiration for this fig comes from Zhehan's shoot for the Fendi Vertigo Summer 2021 capsule collection. The groovy 70's influence can be seen in the Vertigo pattern on the bag he's holding!

The fig maker absolutely nailed this design to this inspiration pic, I'm really impressed.

But! He lost one of his feet! It actually came off in my hand - the fig arrived intact, and when I was trying to stand him up he wobbled and off it came. Oh no! You know that moment where you just kind of disassociate for a second, not able to process that something just happened in front of you? It was like that. My brain could not simply comprehend for a second that his foot had fallen off. I was like, what is this? What is happening right now?

ALL LIMBS INTACT is all I ask! And while we're on the subject, WHO was the librarian back in the 80s that thought it was a good idea to stock a little kid's book section chock full of ghost story comics and books? Where all limbs were definitely not attached, in lurid pulp print technicolor?

A different time, is all I can say.

Despite my delayed shriek of horror, it was not, when it came down to it, a big deal. Nothing actually broke - the foot just hadn't been glued securely in the factory so it just fell out. I just used a couple spots of glue and it went right back in his pant leg. All good. You know, except for my childhood flashbacks.

Even with his little foot properly back in place, he doesn't stand up. I've noticed most of my Zhehan figs where he's wearing a bucket hat don't, I think because of the sheer size and weight. I propped him up to take this pic, and then promptly put him on a fig stand.

This little cutie is thankfully a balm to my frazzled nerves. He's got little cats in his eyes, for goodness sakes!

The fig maker changed the colorful strap of the bag in the inspiration pic to just a plain black strap in fig form. I think this was a good call - it's probably just too impractical to get all those colors in over that much territory.

I will note that when I was searching for fig standee bases I was trying to figure out what exact size to get, since there was a wide variety. I finally settled on this 4cm size since I figured that diameter would provide enough real estate to counterbalance the weight of the figs, while also not taking up more space than say your average fig head. In the case of Zhehan and his wide variety of hats, they're definitely larger than the standee!

I do love Zhehan in his hats. As someone who most definitely does not look good in hats, I especially appreciate when people took particularly cute and/or charming in them. Zhehan is both!

This is a good angle to see the pose he's standing at, with one leg bent. All poses are good to see those very fancy shoes too.

He's got the Zhehan fig proportions, all right!

The little pocket design does, in fact, look a bit like a smiling face! I love it.

The details on this fig are really well done. We have the details on the turtleneck, the smiley pocket tie! The exceptionally colorful bag and then of course those fancy kicks.

I will say I wish he was smiling in this, but that's simply my own personal preference. The fig maker was true to her muse and replicated the picture beautifully!

I forgot to take a lying-down bottoms-up angle pic, so here's my poor attempt when he's already been fastened to the standee. I take zero responsibility for this lapse of memory given that I was so distracted by his foot falling off. I can't blame myself one bit!

The top down is just about one big bucket hat! And a little wisp of hair.

You'll notice he has the same matching style of artwork as yesterday's LV Blue Ice Jun! A different scene, but very much the matching style.

Once again, more beautiful box artwork from this fig maker. I was her I'd be so proud of all the box art I had made for these figs that I'd get them all framed for my house.

Here's our two handsome men, all dressed up in their beautiful blue clothes. They go beautifully together.

Material: PVC and sufficient glue!!!!

Fig Count: 333

Scene Count: 24

Rating: 💙💙

[link back to Master Fig Index for more posts]

#zhang zhehan #junzhe #word of honor cast #shl cast #fig fashion week #bg photo credit joseph perigot on unsplash

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kayssweetdreams · 2 years

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Camp WonderDream: Rock On!! Part 7

Mayday gasped in horror and Zuke stammered for an answer. "I...Wha...HUH?! HOW?! HOW DID THIS HAPPEN?!" Zuke cried. "I don't know! We were all playing, and then all of a sudden they started turning go stone! You have to do something!!" Yinu sobbed. Other kids followed suit, their beloved Counselors had been transformed into statues, and no one knew why. The two remaining Counselors looked overwhelmed. What were they going to do? They were the only Counselors left, the Counselors WITH powers had been petrified, and they had no magic knowledge other than what they saw Balan do.

Zuke then got an idea "Hey Raz, Lili, you can read minds right? Maybe you two can hear their thoughts, and Balan can tell us how to reverse it." He said. The two kids looked at each other. It was a long shot, but they didn't have a choice. Raz and Lili concentrated their mental energy towards the statues, and a jumble of confused voices rattled in their heads "WHAT HAPPENED?!" "I CAN'T MOVE!" "WHAT'S GOING ON!!" The two of them cringed at how loud the thought rang out. Lili decided to kindly, and calmly ask the Counselors to stop through her mind...

"WOULD YOU ALL SHUT UP?!"

The loud jumbled voices stopped at Lili's angry yell. "NOW that you've all stopped. Mayday and Zuke are the only two Counselors that have not been turned to stone. Do you think there is something that you could tell them? Like how to fix them?" She asked. There was a small silence. Balan's voice then broke that silence "OK, First of All, Lili, I may be stone, but that doesn't mean you can simply tell me to shut up. And second of all, There is a book of spells and enchantments in my cabin, it's white and has a bunch of drops. There should be a spell for unpetrification. Look in the cabinet" He said. "Balan says there's a book of spells in his cabin. He says it looks white and has some drops on it. It's in his cabinet." Raz translated. "Got it!" Mayday and Zuke said, rushing to Balan's cabin.

The terrified children looked helplessly at their beloved Counselors. "Are they...gonna be OK?" Yinu asked. Lili focused to hear Balan's voice again "He says don't cry Yinu, As soon as Mayday and Zuke find that book, they'll reverse what happened!" She said uneasily.

Raz gave her an look until Cass picked up something "Um...Guys? What is this?" She asked, a piece of paper in her hand. Miriam looked it over "The youth of tomorrow spend their time in vain, as ahead lies a path of despair, disappointment and pain-" She was cut off my Lili shouting "Balan says stop! That's a petrification spell!" Miriam immediately shut her mouth, and dropped the paper as if it was made of fire.

"This must be what turned them to stone!" Yinu exclaimed. "But why are their music notes of it? And where's the other half?"

This is a story inspired by @julili 's VERY adorable camp pic! I hope you enjoy AND go check out her work!

#Balan Wonderworld #Balan #Lili Zanatto #Razputin Aquato #Yinu #Cass Miligan #Mayday #Zuke #Miriam Mendelsohn

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bunny-rambles · 2 years

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oh my buns sorry if it took me a while to get back to you, as i had already stated my friends were in the house for the week and i kinda did not have time to do anything aside from writing dumb stories with them :'

(oh well, the second book in our vacation series of book is now complete! small victories eheh)

—> still, thank you for replying to the ask! i am not a big fan of getting flowers gifted to me bc i get all sad when they wither, but i love lavender!! my grandma's house has this huge garden filled with lavender bushes and when they're in bloom it feels so nice :3

i promptly forgot all i needed to say, lmao. but thanks for the albedo wishes!!! i am currently on a guaranteed so if he comes i really hope i can snatch him for good :33 (will finally get to use that damn r5 cinnabar spindle lol)

also! I wanted to send you something cute to cheer you up but i am a digital noob and idek if i can send pics in the ask box lmao :' — but picture this! a field trip with albedo, hand in hand under the soft summer breeze, a cascade of flowers all around and the soft noise of lakewater keeping you company. I am personally a big fan of listening to the water's sounds when i am feeling down :3

also! I wanted today's word to be lavanda for lavender, but that sounded too easy so i'll give you another personal favourite summer flower of mine: we call it glicine, and it has just the nicest perfume of all the flowers you can find here in the summer <3

with this i have to go wish my friends goodbye, so i'll sat goodbye ro you as well

have a great day bunny, ti voglio bene! 💕

- 🍓

don’t worry about it, I think it took me longer to respond to this OTL

speaking of albedo, yes that damn sword is a lifesaver for him !! I know people use HoD for him and while he’s that sword is good for him, it’s good for anyone, so it’s not specifically for albedo (kind of like how the jade spear is for xiao, but the spear is amazing for everyone) the cinnabar is literally tailored FOR albedo, it’s the perfect weapon for him. it’s definitely not for a dps sword, but albedo is meant to be a support and he thrives in that role, so r5 cinnabar is going to be perfect on him once you get him :)

when I first read that, it did make me smile and it definitely boosted my mood for the day, and rereading it made me all fuzzy :,) so I hope you don’t mind some self indulgent ramblings-

ah, yes, hand in hand with the love of my life and intertwining my fingers absentmindedly with his, a movement that comes so naturally due to doing it so much. And when we’re in the field together, we’re both laughing softly from the conversations we’re having. It’s peaceful, serene - a breath of fresh air. Both of us are always so stressed, so being here with no cares in the world is such a precious gift. The smile on his face is priceless, and even though this trip was for me, I can’t help feeling happiness bubbling in my chest when I see him, too, enjoying our time together.

I would go on but personally I just don’t self ship very often, and I’ve been wondering why as of late, and I have a feeling it’s because I don’t feel very worthy of affection from my favourite character. If they were real, I don’t think they’d want anything to do with me aha;;; so;;; sorry this got so depressing. I think that’s why I have oc’s though, because of that I mean.

But yes, you can send pictures I think? You might have to be off anon for it I’m not sure

glicine… sounds very pretty <33 I’m going to look that up now to have a look to see it :,)

ciao, ti voglio bene fragola 💞

#bun speaks #🍓 anon #I’m so sorry for the delay #I’m not going to tag this with albedo reader #albedo my beloved

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radiant-reid · 2 years

Text

The Extended Instagram, Chronologically

Stand alone, or part of the Private Eye

A/n: all of these pics are from Pinterest, i take no credit for them.

Liked by d.dog.morgan and 1,457,235 others

y/n what everything's about recently 💜

View all 23,481 comments

everythingy/n taste!!

y/n.allday watch these shoes sell out

y/nfan PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE DO A COLLAB WITH CONVERSE

9 March

Liked by j.jareau and 1,853,104 others

y/n watch some of the magic made here in a cinema near you today

View all 19,239 comments

sunshiney/n okay, but who's the mystery guy who was photographed with you there last week?? we need answers

14 March

Liked by emmawatson and 1,935,245 others

y/n round two 💜

View all 15,236 comments

allabouty/n that would be the perfect date → y/nfandom imagine being on a date with her → stansofy/n what if it's mystery guy and y/n's second date

27 March

Liked by babygirlpg and 2,231,309 others

y/n sock pride

View all 34,495 comments

queeny/n bf alert?

stany/n imagine how hot he is if that's what his hands look like 🥵🥵

babygirlpg @/d.dog.morgan @/j.jareau this could be boy wonder → d.dog.morgan this again, baby girl?

3 April

Liked by arianagrande and 2,356,346 others

y/n just two book nerds

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everythingy/n two??????

19 April

Liked by selenagomez and 3,856,348 others

y/n missed you 💜

View all 43,459 comments

allthingsy/n so he's the purple heart? aww

y/n.y/n.y/n i am just dying to know who this is

30 April

Liked by ourqueeny/n and 2,145,235 others

y/n this outfit was no stolen from anyone.......

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mylovey/n so he's got style too

y/n.and.purpleheartguy ship!!!

12 May

Liked by blakelively and 4,308,235 others

y/n gambling isn't fun if you have to do it alone, but there are other sights of vegas i'd rather see

View all 35,496 comments

thebesty/n googling male celebs from Las Vegas rn

babygirlpg @/d.dog.morgan @/j.jareau uh, hello? boy wonder went to visit his mom → j.jareau half a million people live there → d.dog.morgan 634,235 last time pretty boy mentioned it

1 June

Liked by arianagrande and 3,298,356 others

y/n a gift from my fav person because we're one of those gross couples that match. sorry not sorry

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j.jareau ooo, @/babygirlpg what do you think about this → babygirlpg shush, reid has a cardigan like that, and i'm choosing to believe they are together.

21 June

Liked by d.dog.morgan and 5,385,086 others

y/n summer in la

View all 98,340 comments

majory/nfan OMG OMG OMG!! we have a face picture

y/nthings someone find this man immediately

babygirlpg @/d.dog.morgan @/j.jareau this is reid. → j.jareau or any other white guy with brown hair → d.dog.morgan without a tie? really?

6 July

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fic #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid fandom #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds #spencer reid series #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x you

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outerbankies · 3 years

Text

be here now — topper thornton

request(s): “i think topper taking you out of town for a few days after you guys get back from university and he’s so soft and lovey dovey” + “topper giving you a promise ring with his birthstone so everyone knows you’re his”

pairing: topper x reader

warnings: one singular mention of alcohol

a/n: inspired by this pic and those 2 asks! happy weekend besties enjoy!

my writing

“Isn’t the point of coming home for us to, like, be home?”

Topper laughs, the sound bright and familiar to your ears, even through the phone speaker. Deciding to go off to separate colleges two years ago meant that that was how you heard your boyfriend’s voice a majority of the time these days, and it was still nothing compared to the real thing. And being back home in OBX meant you were just itching to hear it again, right in front of you for real. “We have all summer to be home, angel. It’s one weekend away.”

“I know,” you smile, switching the phone to speaker so you can finish folding up some last minute additions to your bag. “I’m excited.”

“Good. That’s what I like to hear. I’m gonna get the Malibu ready, pick you up in ten?”

“Ooh,” you purr. “He’s picking me up in his boat?”

“Of course I am. My parents just got it out of the slip yesterday, it needs a maiden voyage for the summer.”

“I’m honored,” you laugh. “See you soon, Top.”

—

“There she is.”

You’re dropping your bag to the wood of your parents’ dock and practically racing to the end of the platform, tying Topper’s boat up as fast as you ever have so he can get out, pulling you into a hug so bone-crushing your feet leave the ground for a second.

“I missed you,” you hum, giggling as Topper walks the two of you back to where your bag is, trying to fit in as many kisses as you can.

“Missed you too, pretty. C’mere,” he says, leaning in for another kiss now that your bag is slung securely over his shoulder. “You ready?”

“More than ready.”

“Alright, hop in,” he says, holding a hand out to you where he now stands back in his boat, your bag tucked neatly under one of the seats. “Bow or stern?”

You just smile and throw yourself back into his arms. “You know you’re gonna let me drive.”

—

You drive the Malibu until you get bored, much preferring to let Topper take over while you just watch and hold him around his waist.

“Easy travel day yesterday?” he asks, kissing your forehead.

“Yeah, flight was okay. Had to take the ferry but, whatever,” you sigh. “Just tired still.”

“Mm,” he hums. “You can sleep in the car on the way up.”

“No, I have to pick the music,” you argue. “And coordinate snacks.”

“I can figure out my own snacks,” he mumbled.

“Do you remember the sunflower seeds? You were finding them in the seats for weeks.”

“Oh my god. One time,” he groans, shaking his head in the backseat. “That was Rafe and Kelce’s fault for fighting in the backseat.”

“That was a fun trip,” you recall, thinking back on the summer before, when Topper brought you all to his college town. You’d already been multiple times, of course, but Kelce and Rafe always made things a bit more fun, if a little chaotic. “Maybe we should have invited them this time.��

You’re teasing, just trying to get a rise out of him. Of course it works, Topper cutting his eyes over to you as you pull back up at his house. “Hey, no. We have all summer to deal with them crashing our dates. This is Y/n and Topper time.”

“Y/n and Topper time?” you laugh. “You’re so fucking cute. Missed you.”

“You said that already, baby,” he points out. But his eyes scan your face in adoration, and he kisses you anyway.

“Yeah, ‘cause I really missed you,” you sigh, head hidden in his neck.

“I know. Missed you more.”

“Not even.”

“I absolutely did.”

“Not possible, Thornton,” you tease, letting him go as the two of you make to get out of the boat, but not before pressing one more kiss to his jawline.

—

The weekend’s about as perfect as it can be. The cottage Topper booked is adorable, the weather is perfect save for one bout of rain that drenched you both on a walk home from dinner. A little tipsy from the bottle of wine you’d just shared, sober you might be embarrassed by the way you let Topper twirl you around in the middle of the street, both of your clothes getting soaked as you two made your way back to where you were staying.

Both off school for the summer with a few weeks before the internships lined up in your parents’ business networks began, you have nothing to do but catch up and just be with each other for the first time in a while. You didn’t get to spend last summer together, so you couldn’t help but be excited for what lay ahead.

But you wake up anxious, tossing and turning until you can’t justify possibly waking your sleeping boyfriend anymore, sliding out of bed as the sun rises. You flick the coffee pot in the kitchenette on, needing something to do with your hands, watching as Topper slept soundly.

You don’t know why, but your heart clenches at the rested look on his face, the way his navy crew neck rides up on his stomach, his messy hair and the way the arm that was previously wrapped around you lays stretched out to the side, fingers twitching in his sleep like he’s reaching out for you.

You abandon the coffee and the two mugs you set out, slipping one of Topper’s fleeces over your arms and putting your flip flops on, walking out to the front porch.

You fold yourself into one of the wooden chairs set out on the porch, your thoughts lost to the skyline you gaze out upon.

Of course if isn’t long until Topper is shuffling around in bed, not thinking anything of it when you aren’t next to him, but sitting up a bit straighter when he can’t see you in the cottage at all. He smells coffee, sees two mugs set out on the counter unused, then peers around to watch you through the front windows as the coffee finishes up.

When Topper joins you on the deck, you look up from where you had your chin digging into your knees. You smile slightly as he sets your coffee down in front of you, accepting a kiss on the forehead and a soft touch on your back.

“Morning,” Topper greets sleepily, settling into the chair across the table from you. “You’re up—” he checks his wrist, pushing his sleeve up so he can read his watch “—early, baby, holy shit. I told you we don’t have to drive back until noon.”

“Morning, Top,” you greet quickly, busying yourself with testing out the coffee he made perfectly for you. Your boyfriend leans closer to you, his tired eyes searching your face.

“What are you doing out here?”

“Thinking. Couldn’t sleep anymore,” you mumble, sinking into your chair. You sweep your eyes back across the sky, noticing concern in his eyes when you look at him.

“What are you thinking about, baby?”

“Don’t you wish it could be like this all the time? Like every weekend?”

Recognition flashes across his face, and he’s smiling into his coffee slightly. “Of course I do.”

“It’s just so much easier like this,” you say.

“Being with you is easy for me all the time,” Topper says.

You feel a smile lift your lips just slightly, even if it’s at at his naïveté. “Topper.”

“Y/n,” he counters.

“I’m being serious. You know it’s not easy most of the time. At least,” you bite your lip, wondering if your feelings were exaggerated if Topper was completely fine. “At least, not for me.”

“Hey, not what I meant,” Topper says, his raised eyebrows enough to make you abandon your last train of thought. “And you know that.”

“So then what do you mean that it’s easy, Top?” you say. “I wake up everyday just missing you. I’m on this vacation with you, laying with you, we’re about to spend the entire summer together and and I can’t even stop thinking about missing you again—”

“Even on my worst day, baby. When I miss you so much I can’t even breathe, I am ten thousand times better off than I would be if you weren’t mine.”

You exhale, your mouth parted. “Top.”

“It’s hard because we love each other, Y/n,” Topper says. “And we want to be together. Which means it’s worth it.”

You nod, looking into his eyes, already so reassured just from the tone of his voice. “It’s worth it.”

“And every day we’re apart,” Topper starts, hand grabbing your own. He’s careful of your coffee mugs, pulling you out of your chair until you’re standing in front of him and he’s pulling you to sit sideways in his lap. “Is just one day closer to being back together. And we always have home, and then one day, we’ll never live apart ever again.”

You sink into his lap, arms wrapped around his shoulders, squeezing him extra tight while his arms reach around your back and lay across your thighs. “One day.”

“Hey,” Topper says softly, a hand on your face guiding you to pull back and look at him. “I’ve been thinking—you know how you got me this?”

Topper pulls the gold chain out from under the collar of his sweatshirt. You nod, hand reaching around to the back, where you had the charms of your initials placed when you bought it for Topper on your last anniversary. You knew Topper would like it because it was subtle, but everyone who needed to know knew, that he was yours. “Yes, because you wear it everyday.”

He just smiles, reaching into his shorts pocket underneath where your legs rest. “I wanted you to have something to wear everyday, too.”

The gold of the ring band matches that of Topper’s chain perfectly. It’s a thin band, your boyfriend knowing you’re just like him—you aren’t one for anything bulky or flashy, in the center a small pearl. You furrow your eyebrows, looking back up at him.

“Topper, it’s… so pretty.”

“And it’s my birthstone,” he says softly. You look at the ring, then back to Topper again, your body suddenly thrumming with butterflies.

“Topper,” you say, lost for words besides the name of the boy sitting here, ready to give you everything. “Can you…”

You unwind your arms from around his shoulders, looking in between both of your hands. When you look back at him, Topper is already pulling on your right hand, pausing before he puts it on your ring finger. His thumb strokes over your knuckle. “This one okay?”

You nod, wiggling your fingers as soon as he slides it into place. You place it on his chest, looking at the way your pieces compliment each other. “It’s not even my birthday. Or our anniversary.”

“I know,” he says, smiling. “But now you’ll always know that you’re mine.”

“Me and everyone else.”

Topper sighs, smiling like he’s been caught out. “That’s just a bonus.”

You finally lean in and kiss him, fiddling with the charms on the back of his chain like you always do, but reveling in the way you now feel it clinking against your new ring. “Have you had that in your pocket all weekend?”

“Yep,” he says, nodding shamelessly. “Wanted it to feel like the right moment.”

“I like you. I think I’ll keep you for a bit.”

“For these last two years of school?” he says.

You tilt your head, pretending to think about it. “And maybe a bit longer after that.”

—

tags @pogueslandia @mrs-cameron @catonthesideoftheroad @krisphann @jemimah-b99 @serrendipiity

#topper imagine #topper thornton x y/n #topper thornton x you #topper thornton x reader #topper thornton imagine #outer banks netflix #outer banks imagine #outer banks fanfic #outer banks fanfiction #outer banks fic #topper fanfiction #topper obx #outer banks

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blxkwxrl-blog · 3 years

Text

i never thought of making smuts lmao but i kinda wanna, so i hope you'll like it.

yn - your name

yfn1 - your friend(1)'s name

yfn2 - your friend(2)'s name

ycn - your crush's name

ybn - your boyfriend's name

ycgn - your crush's girlfriend's name

summer is almost over, yet youre still not done with all this school work.

you sighed as you scroll past the photos your classmates posted from their vacation. its been long since you met your boyfriend too,

so you called him up, to plan a meet. he didnt pickup.

you saw your phone beeping from texts from your friend.

yfn1: hey yn, wanna go out tomorrow? a new club opened nearby.

you: sure! will it be just the two of us?

yfn1: no no. it will be me, you, yfn2 and ycn.

you felt your heart beating a bit faster.

you: ycgn wont come?

yfn1: no shes busy.

you: okay then.

yfn1:👍

but you couldnt stop your heart racing, just by the thought of his presence near you. the guilt of having a crush on someone else, whilst being in a relationship was eating you up. but luckily yoir boyfriend was pretty understanding, so he understood your problem and let you go to the club.

you knew it was wrong,

The next day;

you got in his car, as he took the shotgun. you couldn't help but stare at his veiny arm, and his hazel eyes. "so yn, are you done with school work?"

you were so distracted by him, that you ignored the question your friend asked.

"yn are you okay?"

you startled, and nodded as a response.

you all reached the club after an hour. the music was loud, your felt your whole body vibrating, as the music blasted at its full volume.

"hey yn, do you want a drink?" he asked, you nodded, and said "just order a beer for me, i dont want to get drunk."

he nodded, and ordered two beers for him and you. your guilt was haunting you, as your boyfriend's face came to your mind. 'i shouldnt, why do i like him? i shouldnt...why..why..no.'

you felt your stomachs forming knots. a sudden nauseous feeling took over your body, just from imagining your boyfriend's face. 'i shouldnt, and i wont.'

"yn are you okay?" ycn asked, he looked concerned. "hm" you said, as you gulped down the beer. the sweet taste of the beer filled your mouth, as you talked to ycn about yourself and other things you were curious about.

"ycn look, he looks like he got laid or something" you laughed as you saw a random guy passing by, who looked extremely proud and happy, judging from his facial expressions.

"how did you know he was drunk?" ycn asked smirking at you. "experience." you replied, taking a sip of your beer. "well what kind of experience?" ycn raised his eyebrows, as he smirked at you. "ummm blowjob probably. ybn and i didnt go that far yet"

you looked away as he smirked at you more,

"show me the kind of experience you have.", judging from his words and tone, you thought he was joking. so you laughed and played along. "sure, unzip and i'll show you my godly skills."

"oh yea? then get down the chair." you were a bit shook, but you didnt show that. "sure mister. open up first."

"hey yn and ycn!" you heard your other two friends calling you. you two talked to them, and ordered food.

you and ycn sat beside eachother. "feed me" ycn said. you laughed and took your spoon. he stopped you and said "no no, with your hand"

you were a bit shy, but anyways you fed him with your hands, but there was something strange. you felt him sucking your fingers slightly. you pulled your hand out, and blushed.

"my turn!" he fed you, but to your reflex, you bit his finger. "that hurts moron", he said hitting you playfully. you hit him back. he accidentally touched your thigh, you blushed a bit,

"that was by mistake. im sorry" he said

"its okay, dont worry about it" you smiled at him.

"hey guys do you know where the washroom is?", you asked.

"i do.", ycn replied. "shall i escort you milady?" he said.

you laughed and nodded.

"hey" ycn said,

"yeah?" you replied from the washroom.

"do you want me to come in?" he joked, you played and said.

to your surprise, he did actually come in.

"what are you doing ycn?" you asked. he pinned you against the wall, you could feel his alcholic breath, hitching against your neck, as he stared deep into your eyes. you felt him leaning in closer, 'this is wrong'. 'i shouldnt do it'. 'i cant hurt ybn, but it feels weirdly right'.

for a second you gave in yourself, after battling in your mind. "haha gotch ya!". ycn laughed, as he smiled in victory.

"god youre such an idiot." you said. "noo youuu." ycn snickered back at you, as he laughed at your flustered face.

you were glad he didnt do it, but deep down you wanted him to.

"what took you two so long?" your friends asked. you laughed and said "oh we were having a quickie."

ycn nodded and smirked at you.

"hey yn" ycn called you, "mhm?" you said as you feasted on the noodles on your plate. "how are your legs so smooth? what do you use?"

you almost spat out your food, you replied "eh i dont use anything, except my razor."

ycn nodded in response.

"hey dont waste the food" you said, as you saw few pieces of meet on the plate. "do you want it ycn?" you asked.

"yes" ycn replied, "but only if you feed it to me.......with your mouth."

you were kinda flustered. there was a sudden rush of excitement, to feel his lips, but the guilt held you back.

"no no" you said,

"then", he took a piece of meat in his mouth, and put it in your mouth. you blushed hard, as you felt his lips brushing against yours.

"do you wanna take pics?" he asked. you nodded.

he wrapped his hand around his shoulder, and pulled you in. you felt warm, you could hear his heart beating rhythmatically.

it was around 8pm now,

"hey, my mom will kill me if i dont go soon. wanna go together?" you asked.

he nodded and booked a cab for you two.

"hey, you know.." he said, and leaned in closer, and kissed your cheek lightly. "youre attractive, the most attractive person ive ever met."

he leaned in, and slipped in his tongue in your mouth. you savoured every inch of his mouth, as he slid his hand under your shirt, and squeezed your breast. "this feels right, but..."

"ma'am is this your stop?" the cab driver's words broke the heat in the air. you nodded, and opened the door for yourself.

"i'll miss you yn" he said, kissing your lips for ome last time, "i'll miss you too", you whispered, as you hugged him as hard as you could for one last time, before bidding him a final farewell.

you took a heavy breath, as you walked towards your house, the guilt of cheating and being in love with someone else, made you feel sick.

but at the same time,

it all felt so right.

The next morning;

you were having the worst migrane ever, you sighed as you snuck in some aspirins in your bedroom.

the memories from last night, made you feel light, as you gulped down the bitter aspirin.

you: hey! did you reach home safely?

ycn: yeah. you?

you: yeah. sorry for not asking sooner, i passed out.

ycn: its cool.

you: so you remember last night?

ycn: what about it?

you: what you told me?

ycn: ??

you: no nevermind, my bad, i mixed you with someone else.

ycn: hm, take care.

you: yeah, you too.

you felt your heart breaking,

you felt nauseous,

you were numb.

you fell in love,

you lived your dream.

but whats the price?

a bittersweet after-taste of the alcohol.

no memories from the night,

you two confessed.

-------------

A/N (author's note):

Hey guys! hope that you will like it. comment if you want a part 2 or a continuation,

or another imagine. i can do custom imagines too,

hope that you'll like it,

have a good day<3

#smuts #crush x reader #reader x crush #love #unrequited romance #cheating #cheating smut #spilled ink #long reads #smut shot #crush #crush smut #boy crush

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hwajin · 3 years

Text

𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐞𝐭

genre: smut

pairing: switch!hyunjin x switch!fem!reader

wc: 5.5k

warnings: public sex, unprotected sex

description: you desperately need help in uni, math killing you and threathening you to fail classes, but meeting your new tutor went different than expected

note: this is my hyunjin fic for the collaboration summer time love! @milkym00n @binniesbrat @sailorhyunjinz @gothicstay @seungmoomin @lilixeu and @moonlit-lixie are participating as well, make sure to also check out their stories!

tagging: @etherealeeknow

not my pics, credits to owner!

You were on the brim of tears, hot, heavy tears that threatened to spill out of your eyes any moment. The sight before you, books and papers and notes scattered around the desk of the public library you were sitting in, was truly a pitiable one for every out stander. Everyone who’d lay an eye on you would understand what kind of situation you were in, an upcoming exam, maybe finals, in a class you were simply horrible in. Math, to be precise. You looked at the exercise in front of you, a new wave of tears hitting you hard, so hard that you, in frustration, smacked down your pencil onto the wooden table and huffed out air in annoyance, leaning back in your chair to get some kind of at least physical distance to your studies. Your sudden reaction, the volume you created, caused people to look at you with question marks in their eyes, but your glare alone was enough for them to quickly go back to their own business.

If you thought about it, you weren’t fully sure why you came here earlier than planned, in the first place. Initially, you had scheduled a lesson with this new tutor your mom found somewhere, someone who was supposed to be able to help you pass your exams and make you graduate with a decent average. You hated tutors, teachers in general, every since you first came into school. But especially tutors. You didn’t even have one particular reason for your dismay, but you figured that it must be the arrogance, how they always thought they are better than the students they are teaching. No matter what it was, the reason for your hatred, you somehow needed to get through the year nevertheless, and you surely didn’t have the capacity to do so yourself. And once again, as you were waiting, impatiently, your leg nervously bouncing up and down quickly, you asked yourself why the hell you came earlier when studying alone was no use after all.

In the next moment, in a short moment in which you got teared out of your thoughts, of your wild, running mind, it felt like the atmosphere in the library changed for just a second. It seemed like you looked up in the right moment, that you converted your eyes in just the right timing, because you were able to lay them on him. You truly couldn’t tell who he was, but for some reason it didn’t look like he belonged here, as if this, a dirty, public library, in the middle of all those tired, exhausted students, was not the place he was supposed to find himself in. You eyed him as he made his way through the tables and chairs and bodies, visibly looking for someone. His long, black hair, while he was turning his head left and right, danced around his neck effortlessly, feathery. The small ponytail he had was bouncing up and down with every movement he was doing, making your heart flutter for a moment. You simply couldn’t tear your eyes away from the male, despite knowing it was rude to stare. But how could you, how would you ever want to tear your eyes away from this Adonis of a human being?

You started to nervously fiddle with your fingers as you noticed that the man was staring right at you, with a shy smile while he walked closer and closer to your table. You didn’t know him, you were sure of that, and there were tons and tons of other seats free in the library, so why was he making his way to you, with this almost insecure, unsure composure, backpack around one shoulder, laptop in one hand?

“Hey, are you y/n? I’m Hyunjin, y-... uhm, your tutor, I guess.”

If you hadn’t been careful enough you would have widened your eyes and’ve let your jaw drop. No way this beauty was a boring tutor. A tutor who was teaching math to annoying kids and frustrated collage students. A tutor who didn’t look nor act like all the other tutors you’ve had before, though. He was shy, blushy even as he sat down in front of you after you gave him a quick nod that you were, in fact, the person he was looking for. Before you could ask him how he knew you figured that you as the only person sitting alone, the only person with a calculator and math books in front of you, was enough of a hint for him. He started unpacking, started fishing out his pens and pencils and books and papers out of his backpack, quite clumsily so, you must admit. And despite you being careful, thoughtful, your mind wandered to places it definetly shouldn’t, to places that simply were not allowed either in a place nor in a situation like this. But he, Hyunjin, gave you nearly no chance to keep your thoughts fully, solely professional. Not with the way he didn’t dare to look you in the eyes as he started his laptop, shifting in his seat in the awkward silence surrounding you. Not with the way he scratched the back of his neck, flexing his muscles under the loose, black shirt he was wearing. Not with the way he smiled so shyly when his eyes found yours for only a millisecond before quickly looking at his laptop again.

You wanted to ruin him.

You almost slapped yourself as soon as the thought crossed your mind and you quicly shook your head lightly to get back to reality. You had to get it together, had to convert all your thoughts on the lesson and the lesson only. It was for your own good after all, would help you to pass all your damn exams you were struggling with.

“So, where are we starting?”

You were ready to slap yourself again. Your voice was loud and high pitched due to not talking for a long time, and you coughed as you saw the look on Hyunjin’s face. He giggled, cheeks and nose still blushy as he typed something away in his laptop before he showed you his screen.

“Well, I don’t really know on which level you are and where exactly your problems lay, but this here overall is what you need to be able to do for the test in two weeks. It looks like a lot, but with enough practice you’ll understand that it’s easier than you think.”

He was pointing at his desktop, endless pages of books listed on it, and you wondered if it was any use at all, if it wasn’t too hopeless alltogether. You were going to fail anyways, you didn’t see why you should come up with the energy to even study properly then. It was as if Hyunjin saw the fading hope in your eyes as he quickly turned the laptop away from your eyesight again, looking around nervously in an attempt to comfort you, somehow, in any way.

“I- why don’t you... look, let’s start with the first point, alright? We’ll see how I can help you there and if you understand it we can continue. We’ll just go step by step.”

Even his voice was pretty. You nearly forgot to listen to his words, to the context he was talking about and solely concentrated on the way he sounded so melodic, so soft and soothing. You knew how wrong it was to let your mind think like that about your tutor, to not prevent those thoughts, one, because he was your damn teacher after all, and two, because you were dangerously close to failing. But at this point your brain was rotted by the hours you have spend studying alone, so your mind as well as your body were acting and moving on their own. And it was only a question of time before you’d do something stupid.

Though you only half understood his question, the rough plan he quickly came up with to help you, you nodded your head reluctantly, all motivation and backbone gone as you stared at the man before you. He opened his book on the first page, showing you the first exercise that seemed too hard already. You simply sighed as he started explaining you how you should start and solve the problem written on the pages, and you slowly started copying the numbers onto your paper, trying to make any sense out of them. You kept looking at your page, back to the book and your page again, your tired brain working and working, trying to apply his explanation on the exercise. Hyunjin let you, didn’t say a word and waited patiently for you to come up with an idea, with something that might lead to the right solution. After a while, after what felt like full ten minutes of simply looking at the book and paper, your eyes found his in frustration, your cheeks reddened. You hated feeling like this, stupid and helpless, especially in front of him. You wanted to give up, yet you didn’t want to appear weak in front of Hyunjin. You didn’t want him to see you all teary and whiny because of some math, because of some school stuff, so you smiled slightly, putting your pen down as calmly as possible.

“I don’t think I’ll ever understand this honestly. I’m sorry for waisting your time like this by the way, I know I’m a hopeless case.”, you chuckled, shrugging your shoulders. You looked at Hyunjin, whishing so badly that you’d met him anywhere else, at a party, a club, simply any place where you could have gone after your desires, after your wants for him. You did want to spend more time with the male, just not like that, not while studying. You gave him the warmest smile, adapting an innocent, yet somewhat seductive expression, bashing your long lashes at him. You noticed his pinkish cheeks once again, admiring how shy you could make him while doing the bare minimum. You wondered if it was possible for him to have similar thoughts, thoughts that both of you should not have, but by the way he was looking at you, by the way he was shifting in his chair as if he was uncomfortable, you figured he was, in fact, thinking the same thing as you. You nevertheless were careful, didn’t dare to rush anything, not wanting to possibly scare him away.

“Y- you’re not a hopeless case, I don’t belive that. I just... wait, there’s a book in here somewhere, maybe it’ll help you. Everything you need to know is summed up in a really easy way for everyone to understand, I think- it could really help you. Uhm, wait a second here, I’ll be back.”

His stuttering was cute, adorable and so innocent, his strong blush adding to the wave of arousal suddenly flooding your body. God, you wanted him so badly, and you knew he felt the same after seeing how damn tight his jeans were around his middle as soon as he stood up. You chuckled as he clumsily made his way to the back of the library, disappearing in the seemingly endless corridors and hallways created by the shelf of a thousand books.

You were left alone with your thoughts, with the increasing neediness between your legs, and you tried squeezing your thighs together in search for friction. Should you go find him, to get what you wanted, to give him what he wanted? You were in a public place, though, in a library on top of that. Sure, there weren’t a lot of people, but the risk of getting caught by only one was enough to make you reluctant, sceptical. On the other hand, it was nearly impossible to hold back your desperateness for the man that was simply supposed to help you out with your school work at this point. He was gone too long anyways, so after internal debating you eventually got up and made your way to wherever Hyunjin disppeared into.

And you were glad you did go to find him, because the sight before you was truly one you wouldn’t have wanted to miss. His right hand palming his bulge over the harsh fabric of his jeans, his other hand gripping the book shelf so harshly that you could see his knuckles whitening. His pretty face was scrunched up, his lower lip caught in between his teeth. You swore you could have let out a moan right then and there. The situation, the fact that he was just as impatient as you, just as needy, maybe even needier since he didn’t even hesitate, didn’t even wait a second to touch himself in the damn public where anyone could have found him like this, got you light headed and giddy. You quickly made your way over to him as you simply couldn’t only keep watching him anymore, the need to touch him overtaking your body quicker than you thought. The moment he noticed you though, the moment he heard your footsteps coming closer his eyes widened in panick, his hand quickly leaving the hardness that was, looked almost hurtful at this point. You chuckled at his expression, at the way he tried to miserably hide his face, the way he, once again, avoided eye contact with you and looked at his shoes instead. Hyunjin looked pathetic, almost. He was so much taller than you, he’d easily be able to overpower you, and yet here he was, standing with his hands crossed in front of his hard on, his face red as ever, his neck and collarbones pink already.

“What, you’re stopping now, babyboy? You’re not going to give me a show, hmm?”

You whispered as quiet as possible, made your way closer to the boy who now looked at you in disbelief. Of course, he didn’t expect you to react like this, didn’t expect you to see the same lust in your eyes he felt in his body. If anything, he expected you to be grossed out by him, which very obviously wasn’t the case, though. But that was exactly the thing that caught him even more off guard. The poor boy didn’t even know how to respond, what to do other than stare at you, stare at you doing nothing. You noticed how nervous he was becoming, how he started fiddling with his fingers, stepping from foot to foot helplessly, not knowing how to respond to your question, embarrassed and shy of being caught. You let out another chuckle, stepping closer, though not daring to touch him yet.

"What, cat got your tongue? Or are you getting shy all of a sudden?"

God, the things you'd do to see him like this every day, his brows furrowing, biting his lip to prevent any sound to slip past. And even though you knew you couldn't, you wanted to hear him more than anything else. You carefully moved your hand towards his own folded ones, placing it on his knuckles softly. He kept looking at you, mind so hazy, in such disbelief of what was about to happen.

"Or do you want me to help you with that?"

You yet weren’t fully sure if he really wanted this, and here, most importantly, so you made sure to have his yes before doing everything you wanted so badly. Maybe it was wrong - it most probably was - but you wanted, needed him. And this need was the only thing present in your mind.

You saw Hyunjin’s head nodding at you, saw how he slowly moved his hands to now simply fall to his sides, exposing his clothed, rock hard member fully now. Your mouth nearly watered at the sight, which was pathetic, and you noticed how impatient you started to get, slowly, but surely. Your hand almost moved instictively, on its own, palming him with your small hand. Once again, he harshly held onto the book shelf next to him, his head falling back into his neck and you looked at him in awe. You didn’t know how he did it but he somehow managed to look even more beautiful, even more angelic like this. Oh, and how sensitive he was, how easy it was to wrap him around your finger.

“What, is it too much for you already? My god, what are you going to do if I properly touch you, hmm?”

You saw how hard it was for the male to hold back his moans and whines, the thought that he’ll get you and him into big trouble if anyone heard him the only thing keeping him quiet. You kept teasing him, kept moving your hand in the smallest movements to make the boy needier, more impatient, more obedient to you. And appearently you did something rigth, based on the way his face scrunched up, the way he suddenly grabbed your wrist, the way his knees seemed to get weaker by the second. You looked up at him, into his big, dark, blown out eyes, wantig him in impossibly many ways. You wanted him rough, slow and sensual, wanted to take full control over him, wanted him to take full control over you. Everything. You wanted everything he was able to give you, and more.

“Please.”, was everything he could bring out, behind gritted teeth, his eyes rolling back suddenly as your grip tightened around him. Not for too long though, since you teasingly removed your hand completely, sneaking your hands under his shirt instead, grazing your fingertips over the hardness of his abdomen and chest, wishing to see how he looked like underneath the useless barrier of clothes. Hyunjin had sensitive nipples, you found that out quite quickly as your finger grazed over the errect bud softly and his body nothing but jolted at the touch. You smirked, the slow and torturing pace you chose to use on him seemingly able to destroy him, to get him to where you wanted, needed him.

“Hmm, please what, babyboy? What do you want, tell me?”

His breath quickened at your words, his face reddening once again. You knew he was close to lose his composure, the struggle to keep quiet so visible in his eyes, the tightness around his pants seemingly suffocating him. He rolled his eyes again, in annoyance, maybe embarrassment this time. You knew he was scared that opening his mouth would cause him to be louder than he was allowed to be, and he looked at you with pleading eyes, hoping you’d show mercy on him. That was nowhere in your plans though, and he expected it, knew it because of how you looked at him, waiting, mishiveous. He exhaled, very shakily, so, before collecting himself as best as he could while you never stopped toying with him, teasing him.

“I want you to touch me, please. I need it.”

You let out the nth chuckle that day, amused by his words.

“But I am touching you, babyboy, aren’t I?”

You loved the way a quiet, high pitched whine escaped his mouth, and one of his hands instantly hurried to cover his mouth. The sight of Hyunjin biting into his own palm so desperately, mind dizzy, body completely under your control, almost got you moaning, too.

“N- no, not like that. I- I need you, right now. More than t- this.”

You wondered if he really thought he could get away with this kind of answer. Or maybe he was testing you, your patience. No matter what it was, you weren’t going to give him what he wanted if he wasn’t properly begging for it. Or taking it into his own hands, for that matter. But you doubted that he was able to, able to overpower you, to win a fight for dominance. Not by the way he acted, by the way he was so needy and desperate and helpless in front of you.

“You really think that this is enough of an answer, hmm? Do you really think that this is enough for me to give you want you want, babyboy? If you really want it, baby, you have to-”

Your words got cut off, all of a sudden, without any warning, as Hyunjin took you by the waist and pushed you against the shelf carefully, but so determined and confident that for one second your mind went blank, fully. His gaze on you now was dark, just like before, but it was different nevertheless. It was more dangerous, filled with something much more than need and lust now. Power. It was power, and mishief.

You were standing there, caged in between Hyunjin’s hot body and the bookshelf, his strong arms on either side of your face as he came closer to you inch by inch. Was that the same person you were teasing just seconds ago, the same person that so shyly tried to explain math to you moments prior? You weren’t sure, and Hyunjin didn’t give you enough time to figure it out as his lips found your throat, kissing the skin softly, teeth grazing carefully over the part in between shoulder and neck to find this one, sweet spot that would make it a struggle for you to keep your volume down. You were already breathing heavily, the sudden exchange in power, the change in Hyunjin’s attitude turning you on beyond imagination. There it was, he knew it by the way your hands suddenly flew to his shoulder, how you harshly gripped his muscles as he bit down on the softness, on the sensitivity of your sweet spot. He smirked against your skin smuggly, now he the one loving the effect he had on you. It didn’t turn him on less than you, the sudden switch in your actions, the way you submitted to him this quickly without him doing much, really. You felt Hyunjin’s big hands wandering along your body delicately, carefully, even, as if he didn’t want to miss one thing, one curve or dip. As if he had the time to properly take care of you in this crowded library. When you thought about it the both of you surely must have some kind of death wish. If the teasing, the foreplay, the almost innocent touches were enough to make the both of you this aroused, this sensitive, this mushy, how were you supposed to remember that you were in the public, that you needed to stay quiet when you got to the real deal?

You were to find out sooner than expected as Hyunjin’s right hand moved lower on your body, past your stomach, over the curve of your waist and hips, down to your thighs. You were glad that you decided to wear a skirt on this warm summer day, giving the boy easy access to where you desperately needed him. Hyunjin’s fingertips on the inner side of your thighs made you visibly shiver and the small, cold goosebumps that now plastered your skin made him chuckle, evily. You tried to somehow get any friction from his hands, miserably trying to roll and buck your hips, only to feel something, anything. But Hyunjin wasn’t yet ready to give that to you, again, as if he had the time to.

“Nuh uh, baby, be patient.”

His voice was two octaves lower copmared to the way he was pleading before and it only caused more arousal to flow through your body, which you thought was impossible at this point. And it was so damn hard to not fully break down beneath the man, so hard to somewhat keep your composure. Your knees threathened to give in any moment, you were sure, so your grip on Hyunjin’s shoulders tightened impossibly more. Which Hyunjin noticed, thankfully, and he quickly wrapped his free hand around your waist, placing one thigh of his against you lightly to hold you up.

“I got you, baby, don’t worry.”

His words, with the combination of his fingers grazing over your clothed core now, nearly made you see stars, the whole damn universe, if you want. You wanted to focus all your concentration on the man before you, but you needed to keep at least one ounce of sense in you to remember where you were after all, to remember that you simply weren’t allowed to act as freely as you wished. Which was harder than you thought as Hyunjin’s fingers started teasing your clit after he slightly pulled away your underwear. He hummed quietly at the feeling of your wetness, looking down at you, not scared to keep eye contact suddenly.

“Mhh, so wet for me already?”

You arched your back the moment Hyunjin decided to enter one finger into you, a second one following right after, and at the way he was opening them bit by bit while thrusting in and out of you, you understood that his plan wasn’t to make you cum with his digits, but rather to prepare you for him. And despite your anticipation, despite the wish for him to finally fuck you properly, you weren’t fully sure if either of you would be able to keep secrete. After you noticed that there was no use in biting your lip, as that nearly muffled your moans, you clashed your teeth into Hyunjin’s arm instead, surely leaving marks for later. You didn’t know it’d affect him the way it did, his eyes rolling back slightly, his mouth opening as his breath was loud and hot againt your skin. You figured he used your body to quiet himself down as well as he harshly bit into your shoulder, and you would have chuckled if you weren’t this concentrated on keeping quiet. This boy in front of you, the boy you only met an hour ago, if even, was so damn sensitive, so damn reactive. You knew that if he could he’d let out the most beautiful, melodic sounds and moans. You knew because even know, while he didn’t receive any kind of pleasure, while only he was the one touching and kissing you while being left hanging, he was so out of it, so emmerged in the feeling of being skin to skin with you, bodies sinfully close. And he only seemed to further lose his composure, to get weaker by pleasuring you.

“Fuck this, I- was that enough?”

His voice was impatient, and by the way he looked at you you knew that the moment he’d enter you, the moment you’d actually start what you wanted for quite a while now, none of you would last too long. Not if you were this needy for him, not if you haven’t felt this horny in such a long time due to the daily stress and exhaustion in uni. And not if he looked at you like this, with eyes full of lust, plead, and want. You nodded quickly, feeling prepared enough for him even though you knew just how big he was from palming him before. But it wasn’t like you could wait any longer, wasn’t like you were more patient than him in any way. Hyunjin gave you a nod back, aligning himself at your entrance after quickly unbottining and pullind down his pants. He looked deeply into your eyes before finally entering you, slowly, sensually, carefully. No matter how much you wanted to keep looking into those big, black eyes of his, which were slolely fixated on you, you couldn’t help but throw your head back, eyes rolling up. Once again, you felt Hyunjin bite down on your skin, the tightness around him, the warmth and wetness too much for him to keep a cool head. How on earth were you able to feel this good, this perfect around him? You on the other hand were struggling just as much as Hyunjin. Struggling to keep yourself up and standing as you felt every vein, every delicious mold and curve of his lenght passing your walls. And it didn’t seem to end, Hyunjin seemed to keep entering and entering you endlessly, never bottoming out. At it was pure torture, pure torture because now you were looking for something to have in your mouth again to not scream out, the pleasure of his dick dragging against you with no end too heavenly. While Hyunjin’s face was burried in your neck, still, you once again found your way to his shoulder, biting so harshly into the fabric of his shirt that your jaw tensed up.

Finally, after what felt like hours, you felt the male bottoming out in you, his hips coming to a halt, none of you daring to move even one bit. God, the energy you needed to bring up to not moan nor clench around him destroyed you, in a weirdly good way. And you knew that Hyunjin had it just as hard as you as he breathed against you quickly and irregularly, scared to even move his head out of the place between your neck and shoulder. After a while, the both of you somewhat collected and thinking again, even if hardly, Hyunjin looked at you, in anticipation, and for only a second you thought you had him back to the obedient little puppy he was before. His eyes were shimmering and you noticed just how impatient he was, how badly he needed to move. One hand of yours found its way to his hair, stroking through it soothingly, nodding at him slightly.

“M- move. You c- can move.”

You wondered if he could even hear you, your voice so quiet that you didn’t know if you have actually said anything. But Hyunjin surely understood, and this one, short moment in which you thought you had flipped the switch in him again was gone, and he proved you otherwise. His whole body was now hovering over you, his eyes so dangerously and dark on you that a big, cold shudder ran down your spine, and his grip on your hips was tighter than ever. And if all of it wasn’t enough, if all of this wasn’t bound to make you break and tremble under him, then the first rough thrust of him surely was. He was able to hit so deeply, so incredibly harshly into you that your whole body nothing but jolted, hitting the shelf loudly. You looked at Hyunjin in fear, of getting caught, of being seen by anyone. He halted his movements shortly, listening if anyone was coming closer, if anyone noticed the rumble that pierced through the silence agressively. After no one came checking he gave you a silent smirk, thrusting into you a second time, making your eyes roll back in pleasure. You wanted to cry out, to be loud, to scream his name in pleasure. But you couldn't do any of it. You clenched your jaw, muffling yourself somewhat successfully. You were, admittedly, quite proud of yourself for managing to keep it down like this, since the way Hyunjin repeatedly moved in and out of you at such a fast pace, finding and hitting your most sensitive spot instantly, clouded your mind. You weren’t sure if he was rushing to finish this as fast as possible to not risk it any further to get caugth, or if this animalistic pace was simply his usual one, any way it brought you so much closer to your high in under a minute. You let Hyunjin know by clenching around him which caused the boy to whimper, quietly, but loud enough for the rest of the people to hear in this quiet place. But neither of you, in the chase of your high, cared about it now, finally cumming the only thing dazing your minds. And as expected, due to the torturing and teasing foreplay, due to the neediness beforehand, it took Hyunjin just a couple more thrusts into your tightness before he spilled his release inside you, your own orgasm hitting you harshly seconds after. You stayed like this for a moment, panting as quietly as possible, feeling your mixed releases trickle down your thighs. You let the thought sink in, the thought that you fucked your tutor in a public library, and you chuckled a bit, causing Hyunjin to look up at you with question marks in his eyes.

“What?” His voice was shaky, the smile he adapted making the short question sound light and fun, as if nothing ever happened behind this shelf. You chuckled again, not quite believing the whole situation. It wasn’t until Hyunjin pulled out of you that your chuckle quickly faded, a muffled whine escaping your lips at the sudden emptiness between your walls. The man quickly pulled up his pants and looked down your thighs, your hole dripping with all sorts of fluids. And judging on his expression, smirky, but scared at the same time, you understood that he also, just like you, did not have any sort of tissue with him to help you out, to clean you up so you’d be able to get back to your seats again. Now he was the one chuckling, as an idea got to his head. He lowered his body, facing your legs now, and he licked one big, wet stripe over the cum that was escaping your wetness. He tasted himself in the mix of releases and closed his eyes at the feeling, his tongue dragging over your hypersensitive inner thighs, causing you to squirm.

“What do you think, baby, up for round two?”

#skz smut #skz scenarios #skz imagines #skz x reader #stray kids smut #stray kids scenarios #stray kids imagines #stray kids x reader #hyunjin smut #hyunjin scenarios #hyunjin imagines #hyunjin x reader #hwang hyunjin smut #hwang hyunjin x reader #hwang hyunjin imagines #hwang hyunjin scenarios #summer time love #collaboration

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nashibirne · 3 years

Text

Intellectual Stimulation

This is a follow-up to my first Mike fic (My Best Mistake), which was a huge flop 🙈 but I hope you like the second part better...if so, please leave me a comment, reblog or like 💜 You can read this without knowing part 1 though!

Pairing: Mike x y/n

Summary: Mike wants to impress his girlfriend by being a little more sophisticated

Words: ~ 1.8 k

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, smut, unprotected sex, dry humping, vaginal sex, creampie, creampie eating

NO BETA! English is not my mother tongue, so expect bad grammar, wrong spelling, chaotic punctuation and clumsy language. All mistakes are mine…

Credits: I don’t own anything related to Hellraiser: Hellworld! A huge thank you to @nix-akimbo for the edit of Mike with glasses. I loved using it for the moodboard, the other pics are from pinterest. I don't know who invented Professor Cavill, but credits to you too because I briefly mention him in this story. I quote parts of "The Picture Of Dorian Gray" by Oscar Wilde.

You can find my other fics on my masterlist.

Taglist (please let me know if you want to be added or removed)

@lunedelorient @inlovewithhisblueeyes @willkatfanfromasia @hell1129-blog @mis-lil-red @agniavateira @kebabgirl67 @omgkatinka @legendarywizarddetective @summersong69 @taebfada @xxxkatxo @artandotherdelights @notabronte @littlefreya @luclittlepond @eldarwen333 @meowpurrbooks @marantha @liliumdream @enchantedbytomandhenry @greensleeves888 @witcherfan @margauxmargaux07 @radaofrivia @m07belzen @a-little-counter-esperanto @starstruckkittyangel @mary-ann84 @sillyrabbit81 @emelinelovesjc @wheretheriversrunintothesea @lam0ureuxq

Off we go...

*********

Premise: Mike and his girlfriend have been together for a few months now and everything could be perfect if there wasn't that one little problem called Professor Cavill. He's y/n's lecturer in English literature and she talks about that boomer with the good looks and the tweed jackets and the dad jeans way too often. Plus Mike has seen the way the old debaucher looks at y/n when they meet him on campus. So in short, Mike is annoyed with the guy who seems to be some kind of intellectual superman, especially because he can't keep up with him. Not a bit. When he met y/n for the first time he impressed her by reciting a poem but unfortunately it is the only poem he knows. He isn't sophisticated and although y/n keeps telling him she doesn't care he feels bad and decides to do something about it.

I take a look around the room one last time and yes, everything looks perfect. It's clean and tidy, I made the beds with fresh sheets, I placed some very pretty flowers on my desk and most importantly, I bought a huge box of vintage books plus a special item at a rummage sale. The books are strategically placed in the room in little piles - beside the bed, on the shelf, on the little table beside my sofa and on the floor in the corner of the room. The special item is sitting on my nose and I really hope y/n is not going to burst laughing when she sees me.

Where is she anyway? Late of course, as usual. I take one of the books and open it to read the first pages again. I want to be prepared in the best way possible. The book is old and the cover looks strange but cool. Antiquated of course but still somehow modern with the half-rotten scull and the snobby looking guy printed in black and gold on it. Very avant-garde, Professor Dickhead would say I guess, artsy-fartsy I say.

When I hear the key in the front door I take a deep breath to calm my nerves and turn around with a big smile.

"I'm sorry, I know I'm late. I missed my bus." She returns my smile, hardly looking at me because she has problems with removing her key from the lock. "You really have to change the lock, baby. One day my key will break off."

"Sure. First thing tomorrow, sweet cheeks."

She looks at me, surprised by the enthusiasm in my voice and now, on second sight, she sees it.

"Mike! Oh my god…", she says, covering her mouth with her hands, "what the fuck? You look great!"

"You like it?" I give her a smirk and step closer to greet her with a soft kiss on her pretty lips.

"I love it! But why? I mean...you don't need glasses. I'm confused." She laughs light-heartedly and I grin. "It's just clear glass. I thought you might like me looking a little more sophisticated." I wiggle my head with a grin and she smiles, cupping my face with her hands. "I love you just the way you are, but I have to admit the glasses are damn sexy on you." She gets on her toes to kiss me and I hug her tightly.

"So what are we up to tonight? You said you have special plans for us?"

"Just take a look around, I'm sure you can figure it out." I plop down on the sofa and look at her expectantly.

"Umm...well. You tidied up your mess…"

"Yep. But there's more."

"Fresh sheets...wait...the books. You don't have so many books," she giggles before taking a closer look at one of the piles. "Out of Africa?" She raises her eyebrows and I grin.

"Some are for the heart, some are for the brain." I grab the artsy book and show it to her.

"Ooh...I adore Oscar Wilde. The Picture of Dorian Gray is my favorite!"

"I know, you mentioned it when you were talking about Professor Know-it-all's class the other day."

She rolls her eyes and it looks fucking cute. No, wait, it looks absolutely enchanting! I should adapt my vocabulary to my new look.

"Is this about Professor Cavill? Are you still jealous?"

"I'm not a bit jealous but I thought it wouldn't hurt to broaden my horizon by reading some classics and if you want to, we could read some stuff to each other and talk about it? Like our own private book club. What do you think, babe?"

"That's a great idea. Count me in." She kisses me again before cocking her head, looking at me with a smirk. "Fuck, these glasses really suit you, baby. You look so hot..."

"Please, Miss. Show me a little respect. I want to be desired for my keen intellect, not for my extraordinary good looks", I joke with an exaggerated frown.

"Idiot!" Y/n laughs out loud and nudges me playfully, "so you're all brains today, huh? Then bring it on. Read to me like one of your french girls." She plops down beside me and I snicker at her Titanic reference. I love the movie -don't you dare tell anyone-, and she hates it because she finds it boring but she still watches it with me whenever I'm in the mood for it. Okay….she usually falls asleep with her head in my lap after 15 minutes but it's the thought that counts and in return I do some cultural stuff with her, exhibitions and such. We went to a vernissage last week and to a reading in a bookstore the other day. So, you see... it's high time for some intellectual stimulation.

"Of course. Let's see what we've got here", I splay my fingers in an affected manner and grab the frame of my glasses with my thumb and middle finger to adjust them before I clear my throat and start to read, putting an extra dark timbre into my voice.

"The studio was filled with the rich odour of roses, and when the light summer wind stirred amidst the trees of the garden, there came through the open door the heavy scent of the lilac, or the more delicate perfume of the pink-flowering thorn."

I look up from the book to see that y/n obviously likes my reading voice. She seems captivated and I like the way she gazes at me so adoringly. "Go on", she says softly and I continue.

"From the corner of the divan of Persian saddle-bags on which he was lying, smoking, as was his custom, innumerable cigarettes, Lord Henry Wotton could just catch the gleam of the honey-sweet and honey-coloured blossoms of a laburnum, whose tremulous branches seemed hardly able to bear the burden of a beauty so flamelike as theirs;"

I read the first few pages and I start to like both, the book and the growing erotic tension between me and y/n. She moves closer to me with every paragraph. After I turn the pages for the first time I feel her hand on my thigh, after I do it for the second time she starts to stroke me through my jeans and I sigh before I concentrate on the poetic words again. While Lord Henry and Basil Hallward talk about bane and boon of extraordinary talent, brains and beauty, I get hard under her touch. I stop reading to kiss her but she shakes her head and nods at the book. "No. Go on, Mike. Read." Her voice is thick with desire now and it turns me on even more but I give her what she wants.

"“Harry,”said Basil Hallward, looking him straight in the face, “every portrait that is painted with feeling is a portrait of the artist, not of the sitter. The sitter is merely the accident, the occasion. It is not he who is revealed by the painter; it is rather the painter who, on the coloured canvas, reveals himself."

I moan when y/n decides to straddle my lap. She hitches up her boho style maxi skirt before she sits down and all that's between my hard-on and her sweet pussy now is the delicate lace of her panties and the thick fabric of my jeans. The sexy crochet bralette top she wears is not really helpful. Just Oscar Wilde separates me from her spectacular breasts right now. I'm about to put the book aside but she stops me again. "Keep reading." She rubs herself over my boner and looks me in the eyes with a teasing smile. I think this is a promising start to whatever is going to follow and so I go on and on. She's dry humping me now with slow motions, rolling her hips, riding me with closed eyes. I moan again, I'm so turned on I can hardly speak anymore but I try my very best to keep my girl entertained.

"I turned half-way round and saw Dorian Gray for the first time. When our eyes met, I felt that I was growing pale. A curious sensation of terror came over me. I knew that I had come face to face with someone whose mere personality was so fascinating that, if I allowed it to do so, it would absorb my whole nature, my whole soul, my very art itself."

And that's it. That's the moment of escalation. We are no longer able to control ourselves and y/n takes the book from my hands and throws it away carelessly before she starts to kiss me with a passion I've never tasted on her tongue before. While we make out like love-crazed predators she opens my belt and my fly and she lifts her butt to allow me to get rid of my pants and boxers. She takes off her top and I push her panties aside, feeling how wet she already is. Wet and eager to take my cock. She sinks down onto my dick slowly and the feeling of stretching her tight pussy is as sensational as ever. I grab her ass and knead her juicy cheeks while kissing and sucking her boobs and her hard nipples. I know how much it turns her on when I bite those little rosy buds and caress her breasts, one time she even came when I took real good care of her tits while she was jerking me off.

But today she rides me and I thrust into her hot core with strong movements, rocking my pelvis rhythmically, and we kiss passionately while my hands roam all over her body. I can tell she's about to come by her breath that's going fast and by the naughty little things she whispers hoarsely into my ear. "Yes, babe...fuck me hard, fuck me rough," and "deeper, Mike, I need your dick deeper" or "I'm so close. Can you feel how close I am?" When she stops moving because she cums with a long, drawn sigh, her body trembling, her cunt clenching around my dick, I hug her tightly, pressing her down, forcing her to take even more of me and after a few fast thrusts I cum too, filling her up with my seed and I can't wait to see it drip from her pussy.

I know it sounds a bit pervy but I love to see the mess I've made and to taste our mixed juices on my tongue. She climbs down from my lap and lays down beside me with spread legs and I bend down to lick her dripping cunt clean, lapping everything up with slow, sensual licks while y/n plays with my dark curls, enjoying the sensation of my tongue between her legs.

When we are lying in my bed cuddled up at each other a few minutes later y/n kisses me tenderly. "I'll need you to read to me like this every day now." I smirk and wink at her. "With the glasses?"

"With the glasses", she giggles and her soft laughter sounds the bell for the next chapter of our intellectual stimulation.

#henry cavill #cavillry #henry cavill fandom #henry cavill fanfiction #mike hellraiser x ofc #mike hellraiser #hellraiser: hellworld #mikey hellraiser #smut #mike hellraiser smut

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lokislastlove · 3 years

Text

Come One, Come All (dark!Loki x reader)

Summary: A girls night out to the fair takes an insidious turn.

Warnings: Noncon/Rape, knife play, oral (m&f), smut, bondage, kidnapping.

This is a dark fic! 18+ ONLY! Explicit Adult content. Please READ THE WARNINGS! Do not continue if these matters upset you!

Authors Note: I wrote another one! No idea where this came from, but it was fun to write. Still working on improving my smut, huge thanks to @darkficsyouneveraskedfor for some tips and editing the shit out of it. 😘 also I know there is a creepy clown in the pic but I feel like I have to say there aren’t any clowns in the fic. I hate clowns.

Chapter 1:

It was the kind of summer night you dream about, warm enough to keep you comfortable in your shorts and peasant top, but with a light breeze that keeps you cool enough to fight the flush of alcohol in your veins. You look forward to these moments when you are able to go out with your girlfriends and let loose, forgetting about all life’s responsibilities, if just for a single night.

“Come on!” Ash calls over her shoulder, her hand tight around your wrist pulling you impatiently.

“Aww but that looks so good” you groan as you press your face longingly against the glass barrier of the hand dipped corn dog cart.

The sweet scent of the frying corn dough wafts tantalizingly through the air making your mouth water. You friends laugh at your theatrics, having just helped you scarf down a large sugary funnel cake and a platter of nachos, the evidence of which still stains the corner of your mouth. Really, it was their fault for getting you tipsy before taking you to the county fair, everything just smelled heavenly and if you could you would try one of everything.

“Just a slushee?!” You beg as Jen steps behind you and pushes you out of the food court, giggling the entire time.

“Come on, fight the drunchies! You promised you would try that new funhouse,” Jen whines, looping her arm through yours, Ash doing the same on the other side.

“Oh yeah,” you grumble.

“Oh stop it” Ash scolds playfully. “Everyone at work keeps talking about it - it’s like a mini escape room! And I’ve always wanted to do one, please.” She rants excitedly before giving you her best puppy dog eyes.

“Ugh that’s cheating. No one can resist those big brown eyes” you pout, but yield as easily as they knew you would.

“I know” Ash smirks, tossing back her long silky black hair over her slender shoulder.

“This is gonna be so much fun, I promise” Jen bumps your hip, giving you a wide encouraging smile.

You manage a strained grin as you let them lead you through the crowd. It’s not that you don’t like funhouses or the idea of doing an escape room, having always loved solving riddles and doing puzzles. It’s just you don’t like clowns, and every funhouse in your experience has at least one.

“Oh damn there’s a line!” Jen moans as you all stop in front of a large structure covered in flashing lights, the ominous ‘Tricksters Trap’ bathing your face in a violent red glow.

Garish contrasting colors somehow both attract your eye and make it hard to look at. Your pupils dilate with the lines of fluorescent bulbs burning into your retinas. The stereotypical circus music blares through the cheap speakers, reminding you of one of those old Jack in the box toys. And of course, without fail, was the obligatory clown statue hanging over the entrance, like some creepy sentinel there to guide you to your inevitable demise.

“Ugh fucking clowns” you grimace as you pass by the entrance, heading toward the end of the line.

“Yeah they definitely nailed the creep factor,” Jen agrees, her eyes shining with nervous excitement.

“I know isn’t it great?!” Ash squeals.

You stand there taking in the horrific detailing painted on the side of the metal structure. You are thankful when Ash explains there is a time limit, only ten minutes to complete the puzzle or else they kick you out and you have to try again. If you figure out the puzzle you get to leave through the mirror maze and you earn the coveted “I tricked the Trickster” sticker.

“Gotta get that sticker, or else that bitch Katie at work will never let me forget that she got one and I didn’t” Ash complains, causing you and Jen to share a look and snicker.

“Hey! Don’t laugh, this is serious! We gotta be smart and figure this out, failure is not an option” she urges dramatically before collapsing into drunken giggles with you and Jen.

“You ladies seem eager to prove yourselves,” slithers a low voice.

Startled you gasp and spin around quickly. The three of you look up at the tall lean figure standing behind you. He wears a perfectly tailored black ensemble, that matches the color of his slicked back hair. His eyes practically glow green against his alabaster complexion. His sharp cheekbones and angular jaw make your breath hitch, causing his thin lips to curve into a sinister smirk. He is stunning.

“Um, yeah. Well this place has the whole town buzzin’. Seems like everyone is talking about it” Jen is the first to speak.

“Ah I see. Wouldn’t want to miss your chance to take a stab at it” the mysterious man surmised, eyes focused on you.

“We got this shit. Right guys?” Ash assures him as she playfully smacks you and Jen.

“Well, I guess we’ll find out. Good luck,” he challenges with a raise of a brow.

You stare after him as he saunters away without another word. His hips and shoulders sway smoothly, his soft footsteps giving him a dangerous almost feline vibe, like he could rival even the most deadly of predators. As he turns to round the corner of the ride he takes one last look over his shoulder at you. Your eyes lock for only a fraction of a second but it’s enough to send a chill down your spine.

“That was weird, right?” You mutter, eyes still transfixed where he disappeared.

“Eh, just another creepy dude. If I had a nickel for every weirdo who tries to chat me up…” Jen jokes.

“You’d have like a whole 50 cents,” sasses Ash.

You are finally broken from your daze when Ash is pushed into you. You laugh and try to brush off the lingering effect of the handsome stranger, shifting your focus back to your friends. The line goes by quicker than expected, with only one group out of the three ahead of you making it out with stickers. The losing groups return to the line from a back door, bickering about where they went wrong.

Finally it is your turn. Ash claps her hands excitedly, dancing up the metal stairs to the costumed man at the entrance. His red and white stripped suit is expertly torn and painted with fake blood to make him look as intimidating as possible. With a tip of his top hat he welcomes the three of you and begins to explain the rules in his well practiced accent.

“Come one come all to the Tricksters Trap, if you’re feeling lost, just go find the map.” He sings with flair and a perfectly timed bow, directing you to the inauspicious black door.

Taking a deep breath you follow your squealing friends into the darkened hallway. Pausing to look back as the door creaks shut, cutting off the jovial sounds of laughter and chatter with a sudden slam. You flinch at the loud noise and turn back to the dim hallway. The short corridor is lined with wall to wall green velvet curtains barely visible with the green rope lights running along the ceiling.

“Guys?” You whisper when you don’t see them next to you, causing your heart rate to quicken

You call for them again, this time louder, your feet unwilling to move from the spot. It has only been thirty seconds and you are already about to call it quits. Get a grip. You take a hesitant step forward.

“You guys?!” You call shakily.

“Hey! Come on we found the map!” Jen pokes her head from around the corner at the end of the hall.

She disappears just as quickly, waving her arm for you to follow. You breathe a sigh of relief and rush after her. You enter a large room filled with all sorts of random objects. It’s as if it is designed to overload your senses. The green from the hall carried on into the room, more velvet green curtains hung on the walls that were not obstructed by shelves of books or other oddities. You saw everything from perfectly aligned glass jars filled with alien looking creatures, grandfather clocks, to treasure chests overflowing with grizzled toys.

Jen and Ash are hunched over a table with a map spread out smoothly. It was easy enough to see it was a map of the room and hallway, with what appeared to be three small rooms hidden along the wall behind the heavy green drapery. You go over and pull back a curtain and find a locked door, the other two also hiding a locked door.

“Ok so it looks like we gotta find a way to open these doors” you offer, your anxiety calming a bit as you focus on the mystery at hand.

“Hey look there is some sort of code over here by the lock on the door.” Ash hollers excitedly.

You each pick a door code and frantically search the room. It doesn’t take long for you to figure out you need to use the books on the large shelf along one wall. The first number tells you the book the second refers to a specific page. You find a slip of paper in the book with a riddle written in a blood red ink.

“I make two people out of one” You read aloud.

“You can hold me in one hand, but I’m used to fill the room” Ash reads hers, her face twisting in concentration.

You both look to Jen, “I have two hands, but I can’t clap.”

“Damn no wonder so many people failed, definitely wish I wasn’t drunk right now” Ash laughs.

“No no we can do this, it’s probably items in the room so let’s just focus. We’ll do one at a time.” You assert, pacing the room and trying to take in all the random objects.

“Two hands…” you mutter as you stop in front of a large grandfather clock. “Clocks have hands!” You yell excitedly and open the narrow door.

The heavy pendulums swing inside and you see a shining silver glint off the rounded golden end. You pull off the small silver key, stuck on by a tiny magnet, and jump in excitement.

“Holy crap! You’re a genius!” Jen exclaims running over to take the key and try it in the door.

The key slides in smoothly and the door opens with a gratifying click.

“Woo! Keep going, you are on a roll!” Ash claps as she cheers you on.

“Ok, ok” you giggle before taking a deep breath. “Two people out of one… maybe a camera? Or wait…” you realize as you stare at Ash currently checking her makeup in an antique mirror hung between two curtains.

“Ash! Try pulling on that mirror!” You yell pointing frantically at the mirror in front of her.

Her brows knit together briefly before understanding, grabbing the frame and tugging gently until it swings open, revealing a key hung on the wall.

“Yes!” You all shriek together.

Suddenly, the lights flicker and a loud maniacal cackle reverberates through the surround sound speaker, turning your elation into yelps of surprise.

“Two minutes left” a familiar polished voice echoes forebodingly throughout the room.

“Shit, that scared the crap out of me” Jen laughs clutching at her chest.

The warning gives you pause, managing to shift the spirit of the whole room. Ash giggles nervously as she watches the lights of the room transition from their previous dim yellow light to a menacing red hue. The mood lighting in addition to the increasing volume of the horror soundtrack playing over the speaker helps to put you back into your initial anxious state.

“Seriously? Is this fucking necessary?” You curse, shaking your head.

“Ok let’s get the last one guys! We can still do this!” Jen yells through the cacophony of sound effects.

“Yeah what can we fit in our hand but somehow also fills the room?” Ash reiterated the final riddle.

“These red lights make it so much harder to see” Jen complains bitterly as she rummages through the items inside a large chest.

“Lights… Jen that’s it! A lightbulb!” A smile breaks out on your face as you figure out the final clue.

“Look up there!” Ash points to a solitary darkened light bulb screwed into the ceiling.

“I got it.” Jen jumps onto the table and reaches up, unscrewing it quickly. “There is a key inside!” She shouts.

She unscrews the bottom of the fake lightbulb and received the key before handing it to Ash. Each of you run over to the corresponding doors and turn the key, squealing in delight when they all slide open.

“Is that it?” Jen asks looking into the cramped dark space behind the door.

It was little more than a closet. Barely enough room for each of you to stand in. You were at a loss. You could have sworn that would be the end.

“Guys there is a lever here on the back wall of mine, how about yours?” Ash’s muffled voice calls from inside her closet.

“Oh yeah mine too!” Jen replies.

“Do you think we have to pull them at the same time? ‘Cus mine did nothing when I tried it” Ash says poking her head out to look at you.

“Thirty seconds!” That haunting voice booms again as a tick clock sounds through the speakers, counting down your final moments.

“Ok let’s try it together!” You nod at both of them, before stepping into the tight dark space.

“THREE! TWO! ONE!” You shout, mirroring your friends calls, pulling down your lever with a snap.

There is a moment of silence as the lights of the room behind you suddenly go dark, the music and sound effects cutting off instantly.

“Did we get it?!” You yell.

You don’t get the chance to hear your friends response as the wood door slams behind you, locking you into the small space.

Tags: @darkficsyouneveraskedfor @caffiend-queen

#dark fic #dark Loki #dark loki x reader #tom hiddleston #come one come all

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and-it-freezes-me · 3 years

Text

Little Red Lies - Chapter 1

Or, AUgust 2021 Day 10 - Fake Dating

{Next}

Words: 5,439

[Booked tckts yet? virge wants 2 check u still need 2 places 4 reception dinner]

Trash Rat 22:57

[cant w8 2 meet ur new ~date~]

Trash Rat 22:58

Roman stared at the messages for several long seconds, then groaned.

[Of course I booked tickets. Yes I still need the +1 seat.]

Roman 23:04

[cant believe u havent even sent a pic or yk a name]

Trash Rat 23:06

[no shame if ur still </3 ovr remy]

Trash Rat 23:06

[even tho its been 2 yrs now]

Trash Rat 23:07

[Of course I’m over remy. You’ll meet my boyfriend when we get there. He’s shy.]

Roman 23:07

Roman seriously considered throwing his phone across the room and booking a plane ticket to Alaska rather than Manhattan. That way, he wouldn’t have to go to his brother’s wedding and admit that he was most definitely single and most definitely not over his ex boyfriend (of seventeen months - two years was an unfair exaggeration).

[u kno virge h8s not knowing whos coming to his wedding right]

Trash Rat 23:10

[I know, I know, I’ll apologise as soon as we get there. He’ll be first to meet my bf, promise.]

Roman 23:11

[book ur fuckin plane tckts ro, I know u didnt do it yet]

Trash Rat 23:11

Roman threw his phone across the room.

It bounced off of his Heathers poster and landed on his desk, which was covered in scripts, textbooks, empty takeout containers, balled up bits of paper, crumpled drinks cans, and pens, and Roman buried his face in his pillow and groaned.

Ten months ago, Roman’s sister had flown down to Los Angeles, dragged Roman out of bed and announced that he was actually Roman’s brother. Almost sooner than Roman had been able to take this in stride, Virgil had added that he was marrying his boyfriend in December and would Roman mind being one of his groomsmen? While Roman was still reeling from the bombshell that was the fact that their gremlin of an elder brother Remus was Virgil’s best man, Virgil had leaned forward and asked if Roman was doing alright because he couldn’t help but notice that his dorm room resembled ‘the result of an explosive going off in a pigsty’.

Roman had blinked dumbly at him, nodded, and then started pressing for details about Virgil’s wedding. Eventually, his brother had promised that he’d get Patton, his fiance, to call Roman to discuss every detail, from location to napkin frills, and Roman felt that he had managed to avoid the topic of how he was doing.

When he and Remy had first broken up, midway through last July, Roman had gone to pieces. He had spent the end of the summer holiday between his first and second years locked in his room and listening to the same few songs on loop until Virgil, who was three years older and had been packing his things to move into his new apartment, had put his fist through the wall between their rooms. Then Roman had put his headphones on. It wasn’t Virgil’s fault that he was too uncivilised to appreciate the wonders of ‘Michael In The Bathroom’, ‘Someone You Loved’, or ‘Impossible’, after all.

Then Roman had gone back to university, where he had tried to drown himself in reading for his degree, and instead ended up sleeping through lectures after all-night crying sessions. He had tried to submerge himself in his essays and instead ended up daydreaming about his ex-boyfriend in study sessions. He had tried to get involved in theatre productions, but every audition had gone sour, and he often ended up thinking about the few times he and Remy had met up over the previous year rather than learning his lines.

Everyone had said that long distance relationships would be hard, but Roman, the romantic fool that he was, had insisted that they could do it.

They couldn’t.

Eight months ago, nine months after the two of them had broken up, two months after Virgil had announced his wedding plans, Remus and his partner had flown into Los Angeles and tried to stage an intervention. This had involved Remus trying to seduce the campus security guard and almost getting reported to the police (Roman had always insisted that his mustache only made him look sketchy), followed by Janus sneaking past the pair of them and into the building. Remus had somehow managed to join him moments later, and the two of them had somehow made their way up to Roman’s floor without alerting anyone else of their presence.

Roman had been woken by a furious hammering at his bedroom door at a little after four in the morning, and had to wade through a mess of papers and laundry to find that the two of them had knocked on every single door on his corridor, unable to remember which was his. He had not been popular with his dormmates the next day.

Their intervention had involved sitting on Roman’s bed and sharing the leftover pizza that had been on Roman’s desk for the last three days, and telling him to wash the dirty clothes all over his floor. Then they had tried to persuade him to accompany them to a bar to hook him up with somebody, and Roman had quickly concluded that the pair was somewhat drunk.

He had vehemently refused, and when Janus had eventually rolled onto his back, dark hair dangling off the edge of the bed and onto the sticky patch of carpet that Roman had spilled soda on three weeks ago, he practically whined that Roman was being very difficult when all they were doing was trying to help him.

“Trying to help me? You’ve disturbed the people I live with at fuck-o’clock in the morning! I have class tomorrow!” Roman was sat at his desk chair, trying very hard to ignore the stack of textbooks he was supposed to have read and hadn’t.

Remus rested a hand on Janus’ hip to stop him from rolling off the bed, and raised a lazy eyebrow at him. “Cut the bullshit, little bro. We all know you haven’t been to class in… How long, Jan?”

“Two months, three weeks, and four days,” Janus sing-songed.

“How the fuck do you know that?” It sounded about right, anyway, and Roman had a feeling that if he denied it this would just take even longer. He spun around in his chair and picked up a pen from his desk. “It’s my business if I don’t go to class.”

“Called my sister. Jannie takes all your classes, you know…” There was the sound of shifting fabric, and when Roman glanced back, Janus was sitting up and tucked under Remus’ arm again, looking very much as though Remus had just placed him there.

“You’re right, Ro. It’s not my business if you’re not going to class.” One of Remus’ hands trailed slowly up and down Janus’ arm, so casually Roman could almost believe that his brother didn’t realise he was doing it. “But it is my business that my little brother isn’t taking care of himself anymore. You haven’t answered my calls since before winter break. You obviously haven’t been eating healthily - this pizza tastes like you fished it out of the garbage, by the way, and I would know - and you look as though you haven’t seen the sunlight since last July.”

The assessment wasn’t quite fair. Roman might have been skipping classes, but it wasn’t as though he had just been lying in his room and wasting away! “I went to the gym last week. And I auditioned for the musical in March. I’m fine, Remus! Can I go to bed now?”

“No! We’re going to a club!”

Janus had nodded enthusiastically at Remus’ words, then rested his head on his partner’s shoulder as Roman shook his head slowly. “I don’t want to go to a club. I want to go to bed. I have class tomorrow.”

“Nope.” Remus’ hand rose to tangle absently in Janus’ hair. “We’re going to a club, and you’re gonna find some hottie to fuck all the yearning for Remy right out of you. Then you’ll feel much better!”

“You’re pulling my ha-”

“Fuck no. We’re not doing that.” Roman pressed his palms into his eyes, then stood up and jerked his door open. “Can you go now?”

“Give me one good reason why you getting laid is a bad thing right now, Ro, and we’ll leave.” Roman had gotten as far as opening his mouth before Remus interrupted. “See? You can’t. You need to move on, man. Clinging to Remy is clearly unh-”

“I have a boyfriend.”

“-ealthy, and- What?”

Maybe it was because it was four in the morning. Maybe it was because Roman hadn’t been sleeping well anyway, and Remus had managed to step on the last of his fraying nerves. Maybe it was just because he wished it was true.

“I have a boyfriend,” Roman repeated, and felt a strange sense of satisfaction at the obvious shock on Janus’ usually impassive face. “Three months. Met just after term started. It’s pretty serious, actually.”

“Bullshit.” Remus looked half impressed.

Now it was irritation that flickered through Roman. Was it really so unbelievable that he could have found somebody else? “It’s not.”

“You fucked yet?”

“Remus…” There was a warning note in Janus’ voice, and Remus sighed.

“None of my business. Got it. Do we get to meet him?”

“He’s shy.”

“Which is another way of saying he doesn’t exist.”

“Asshole. It’s another way of saying that it’s four in the fucking morning and he’s asleep. You’ll meet him at the wedding, anyway - I’m going to ask him to be my plus one when Patton sends out the RSVP date.” The words had been out of his mouth before he had had time to regret them, and Roman had spent the last eight months trying to sidestep questions about his non-existent boyfriend.

He had later found out that Remus and Janus hadn’t really come down to see him. They had gone to Los Angeles to celebrate their two year wedding anniversary and decided they might drop in while in the area. (Just because they had eloped rather than holding a big party, Janus had commented idly, didn’t mean they couldn’t celebrate it).

But now it was December, and Roman was partner-less and running out of excuses. His lie had gotten out of control, and he had ended up asking Patton and Virgil to include his partner in the guest numbers. He had invented dates they had been on for his mother when she had asked, and he insisted that his boyfriend was shy and had practically no internet presence anyway, so knowing his name wouldn’t help anybody.

He could just say that the two of them had broken up and go home alone, of course.

But that would mean disrupting the meticulous wedding seating plan Virgil and Patton had been making for months.

Besides, Roman was fairly certain that nobody in his family really believed in his mystery boyfriend, and failure to produce one after months of insisting that they would meet… Well, he didn’t want to open himself to that sort of ridicule.

Of course, it didn’t look as though he had much choice.

He hadn’t managed to make many friends at college.

In his first year, Roman had spent a lot of time trying to keep on top of his schoolwork and working toward the various theatre productions the school had put on; all of his free time he had spent planning dates for when he and Remy finally visited one another, or else video calling his boyfriend. There simply hadn’t been time to make many friends during that.

His second year… Well, Remus had been right. He had spent most of his time in his room, eating junk food, watching sappy romance films, and missing Remy.

So far, he had spent his third year trying to bring his grades back up to something more respectable… And missing Remy.

He knew it was pathetic. It had been almost a year and a half since they had broken up, and he still missed being able to call someone to talk about nothing at all at two in the morning, missed planning extravagant dates, missed the feel of hands in his hair and lips on his.

At least his floor was cleaner than it had been last year. And he had eaten slightly less fast food this semester than the previous one.

Roman’s phone chimed again. With a frustrated groan, he made his way over to his desk.

[Looking forward to seeing you on Monday!!! <3 <3 <3 !!!]

Pops 23:25

Patton.

[Me too, Padre! I’ll bring some of that fudge from the shop you love!]

Roman 23:26

[eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee <33333333 Can you get some of the currents+salt? Vee loved it last time + I want to surprise him]

Pops 23:26

[Will do. Looking forward to seeing you too!]

Roman 23:27

Patton would probably be the most understanding if Roman decided to come clean about his lying - but Patton was the worst secret keeper Roman had ever met. He and Virgil had been dating for almost three years, and in that time the thin voice actor had managed to spill every single plot twist in every single show he had watched or acted in. Roman had no doubt that Virgil would know that he was bringing home fudge within the next hour. If he admitted to Patton that he had been lying about having a date for the wedding, Roman would get Patton’s kind - if confused - reassurances, and half an hour later he would get the mixture of mockery and horrible pity that would come with the rest of his family finding out that he still wasn’t over Remy.

Roman let his phone slip through his fingers and land on his desk once more. Three days, and then he’d have to come clean - until then, he could just avoid thinking about it. Collecting the overflowing basket from the corner of the room (he had been putting off doing laundry for a while now), Roman left his room and headed toward the building’s basement laundry room. Term had finished last week and it was almost midnight - he doubted anybody would be down there now. Most people had probably already gone home, or were making the most of the free time to go out rather than spend it doing chores.

The light was off in the basement when he got there, so Roman left it that way as he loaded his clothing into one of the machines.

Moving around in the dark was far more of a Virgil move than a Roman one, but he couldn’t help himself. There was something comforting about the-

“Sweet fucking Shakespeare!” Roman’s hand flew up to cover his eyes as light burst through the small room, quickly followed by the strong smell of coffee.

“Sorry! I was unaware that there would be anybody in here.” As Roman dropped his hand, blinking owlishly in the sudden light, the newcomer made his way over to the machine on the far side of the room from him. “Most people prefer not to fumble around in the dark.”

Remus or Remy would have made some comment about how fumbling around in the dark could be quite fun really. Roman just shrugged. “It’s been a long day.”

He had expected the other man to say something; instead, silence fell over the room, broken only by the sound of the powder tray being opened, filled, and closed again.

Roman didn’t mean to stare, but he couldn’t help it. He had seen the person in the room next to him only twice so far this term, and only knew his name because the mailroom was organised by room number rather than alphabetically, and the name Roman Prince was right next to Logan Ursa.

Logan looked more tired than he had on either of the other times Roman had seen him. There were deep bags under his eyes, the shadows almost deeper than Virgil’s had been at the height of his eyeliner experiments, and the black ponytail that hung halfway to his waist was missing, replaced with what could only be described as a thicket of tangled hair. It looked as though he had been outside even less than Roman had in the past few months: his skin was so pale it seemed to glow under the fluorescent laundry-room lights. There was a steaming mug and a thick book on the lid of the machine beside him, and Roman had the strong feeling that it wasn’t the first coffee Logan had had that evening.

The washing machine Logan had been loading began to rumble, and as the other student straightened up and picked up his book, Roman made himself duck back down to finish his own task.

He’d have to come back to collect his clothing later - Roman suddenly regretted deciding to get this done now, when it meant he would have to return at almost two in the morning, but there wasn’t much he could do about it now.

“Do you want me to leave the light on?” He was more trying to make conversation than anything else: Logan was perched on one of the machines in the corner, nose already buried in what Roman could now see was a heavy medical textbook.

“Obviously.”

Yeah, he probably should have guessed that.

Logan was still in the laundry room when Roman returned to collect his clothing two hours later. He was still sat on the same machine, although now he was speaking into his phone in what sounded like rapid Italian. (It definitely wasn’t Spanish: Roman was almost fluent in Spanish). (The languages were similar, but although he could guess at a few words, he had no idea what was going on). (Not that he was eavesdropping, of course). Logan’s hair was even messier than it had been before, and out of the corner of his eye Roman caught him jerking his free hand through it once or twice.

Roman pulled his now-warm and dry clothing from the machine and dumped it into his laundry basket, doing his best to ignore the way Logan was practically shouting behind him, but couldn’t stop himself from startling at the wordless, frustrated yell that came from the taller man a few minutes later. He was halfway to the door, but paused and glanced at Logan, who was stuffing his phone angrily into the oversized hoodie he was wearing.

“Everything okay over there?”

“Family stuff,” came the snappish response. Roman watched for a few seconds as Logan knelt in front of his own machine and began jerking clothing from it, folding pants as though he wished he were ripping them to pieces instead, then throwing several dark shirts over his shoulder and stalking over to one of the ironing stations.

“Pretty loud family stuff,” Roman commented, then wondered why he was bothering. It had been clear from his first meeting with Logan that the other student wasn’t there to make friends: Roman had been carrying a large cardboard box into his room the day he had moved in, and bumped into him in the hallway. Logan had looked him up and down, said something like, “Keep the volume down. I’m here to work,” and marched past him as though Roman were no more interesting than a hat stand.

Sure enough, Logan didn’t turn to face him, instead ironing a shirt in a manner that strongly hinted that he wanted to make it beg for mercy. “None of your business family stuff.”

“Are you-”

“None. Of your. Business.” This time, Logan actually did glance over his shoulder, and fixed Roman with a scowl that suggested that if he didn’t drop it, his face was going to be the next thing under the iron.

Roman left quickly. He had done his best to be friendly, and if Logan wasn’t interested, that was his problem. He didn’t seem like the sort of person Roman would really want to be friends with anyway.

Logan’s haggard expression lingered in his mind as he made his way back up to his dorm room and began stuffing his now-clean clothes into his wardrobe. He should probably start packing - his suitcase was sitting open and empty against one wall - but he had plenty of time.

Besides, he was exhausted.

Roman had changed into a pair of sweatpants and gotten into bed by the time he heard the door to the room next to his slam shut. Clearly, Logan was still annoyed by whatever ‘family stuff’ had had him first yelling into his phone and then taking his frustration out on his laundry and somebody trying to be friendly.

How long could Logan hold a grudge? Was he the kind of person who would calm down after a couple of hours of sleep, or would whatever he had been arguing about be hanging over him for the next week or so? That would make the winter break uncomfortable…

Or maybe he wasn’t going home. He had looked pretty invested in the textbook he had been studying earlier, despite it being almost midnight and no longer termtime. Maybe Logan was going to stay in the dorms over the winter break and use the hours without lectures for private study.

That sounded like a lonely way to spend the next three weeks.

The idea struck Roman suddenly, and he sat bolt upright in bed, the kind of elation that only comes with golden inspiration coursing through him. He would persuade Logan to come back home with him for the holidays! If Janus took it to mind to ask Janine about him, she’d be able to verify that Logan didn’t socialise much; all he would have to do would be show up briefly for the wedding, and he could spend the remainder of the holiday studying all he wanted, away from ‘family stuff’!

He would ask Logan the following morning, and when he agreed, Roman would book the plane tickets home - he’d pay, of course. Or rather, he’d use the money his mother had sent him so that he could bring his fictional boyfriend home. Either way, Logan wouldn’t have to spend any money himself!

Laying back down, Roman pulled his thin blanket back up to his neck and rolled onto his side, satisfaction warming him more thoroughly than any hot drink could.

This was the best idea he’d ever had.

“That is the worst idea I have ever heard.” Logan glanced into the hallway over Roman’s shoulder as though expecting an audience for a practical joke. “I cannot believe you have wasted my time listening to you.”

“Is… That a maybe?” Roman tilted his head and gave Logan his best puppy eyes.

Alas, Logan’s heart must have been made of stone. “No.” He made to slam the door.

Well, Roman couldn’t have that. It had been difficult enough to get Logan to even open the door in the first place, and harder still to get him to listen beyond the initial “I need you to do me a huge favour, okay, but it works out for you too.” In hindsight, maybe he shouldn’t have led with that. But then he had explained, and for some reason Logan was still trying to close the door on him.

“Ow!”

“That was entirely your fault.”

“You just slammed the door on my foot!”

“You did put your foot there after I had begun closing the door. My point stands.”

Technically, Logan was correct, but Roman wasn’t there to quibble over technicalities. “You got the part where I’d pay for your flights, right? All you have to do is show up for one day in something resembling formalwear, and in return you get rent free accommodation and food all holiday! Plus company!”

“I have too much to do to pretend to be your boyfriend for three weeks for no reason. Find somebody else.” Logan made to close the door again, and this time Roman caught it with his hand.

“There is nobody else!” Roman was aware that he was beginning to sound desperate. “You’re like, the only person I know!”

“That sounds like your personal problem, not mine.” Several strands of hair had fallen from the impressive tangle around Logan’s ears and into his face, and he blew them out of the way. His breath smelled like coffee - bitter coffee. Roman wrinkled his nose. “Let go of my door.”

“Come on, Logan! What else are you going to be doing this holiday?”

“Studying! I have exams to pass!”

“You can study at my place. You won’t have to pay holiday rent there!”

“I won’t have to pay holiday rent if I go to my mom’s place, either! Let go of my door!”

Roman finally pulled his aching foot out of the way, but didn’t remove his hand from the wood. “You don’t want to go back to your mom’s place, though, do you? The phonecall -”

The glare that Logan sent him could have frozen the insides of a volcano, and his voice was suddenly cold enough to make Roman shiver. “Good day, Roman.” This time, Roman jerked his hand out of the way, and the door snapped shut in his face.

Shit. Maybe he shouldn’t have tried to use Logan’s ‘family stuff’ against him. He made a note of that for future reference, then hammered against the door again.

“Please, Logan!”

Silence.

“I’ll be forever in your debt!”

More silence. Maybe Logan would prefer something a little more extravagant?

“I’ll sing of your virtues from the rooftop every night for the rest of the year!”

Nothing.

Okay, maybe that had been a little much. Logan had made it clear that he was there to work and didn’t want to be disturbed in his caffeine fueled study crusades, so something excessive was possibly the wrong way to persuade him to do this.

Oh-

“I’ll pay for your coffee for the rest of the year?”

Roman held his breath and waited.

And waited.

Just when he thought that he had been wrong and that Logan really wasn’t going to be persuaded, the door opened the tiniest of amounts. Logan was still frowning at him, but some of the ice was gone from his expression.

“That’s your dealbreaker? Coffee?”

“I drink a lot of coffee.” A slight deepening in the crease between Logan’s eyes told Roman not to push the subject. “You need a date to a wedding. In return, you pay for my flight there and back, provide accommodation for the duration of the winter vacation, and keep me supplied with coffee for the rest of the year.”

“Well, a wedding, the reception, any pre-wedding parties, and keeping up the act while we’re around other people,” Roman corrected, counting on his fingers. From the irritated twitch of Logan’s left eye, he got the feeling that he hadn’t mentioned the reception or the potential stag night in his initial pitch.

“Blue Moon or Red Planet.”

“What?”

“The coffee. I like Blue Moon or Red Planet coffee. They’re more expensive, so I don’t expect them every time - maybe a ratio of three regular jars to one nice jar.”

Roman blinked. “Uh… Okay.”

Logan nodded once. More hair fell over his eyes. “I’ll draw up a schedule and provide you with estimated projections of my coffee habits for the rest of the year so you can budget accordingly. When do we leave?”

“Um… Monday.” Still reeling from Logan’s sudden and complete 180, Roman cast around for something to say, but the long haired man got there first.

“Monday. That gives us approximately two and a half days to draw boundaries and fabricate enough pictures and stories to give our deceit credibility.” Logan closed his eyes, and Roman realised that he was staring again. He hadn’t expected the other to take this in stride so quickly. “Given that I have work to finish today and you will likely need several hours on Sunday evening to pack… Have you told your family how long we have been romantically involved?”

“Uh, since January. But I told them you were shy, so we don’t have to have any pictures or anything - we can say that all our dates were just pizza and Netflix, and…” He tailed off at the incredulous look on Logan’s face. “What?”

“You expect them to believe that we have been dating for eleven months and you haven’t taken a single photo? Roman, I have listened to you belting the lyrics of more break-up songs than I care to count.” Roman shrugged, and Logan rolled his eyes. “You are quite clearly a romantic. Had we really been dating, the number of pictures you would have taken on whatever extravagance you planned for our six-month anniversary alone would be infinitesimal.”

He had a point.

Roman had already stretched his family’s belief in him to breaking point (and probably well past it) by refusing to share even the smallest thing about his ‘boyfriend’ over the past eleven months; if he didn’t get home on Monday with at least a couple of dozen photos to share, their charade would be over before it could ever really begin. “Right. You’re right. We’ll need to spend the weekend planning, doing a photoshoot - it’ll be fun!”

“You,” Logan started, already retreating, “obviously have a different definition of that word than I do. Eight thirty tomorrow morning, The Roost. Bring a notepad, your phone, and a couple of changes of clothing suitable for various weather conditions.”

“Eight thirty? A prince needs his beauty-”

“Eight thirty. We are going to do this properly.”

Roman’s phone was in his hand barely seconds after Logan’s door had closed (albeit more gently than before).

Groupchat: Princes and Co.

[Can’t wait for you to meet logan!]

Roman 09:58

[a name!!!!!!!!!!]

Trash Rat 09:59

[we have a name!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!]

Trash Rat 09:59

[such a nice name! can’t wait either, ro!]

Pops 10:01

[About time! I’ve been stalling on the place settings for weeks waiting for this name]

Emo Nightmare 10:02

[Was about to fly out to LA to strangle it out of you]

Emo Nightmare 10:04

[he was. i had to physically restrain him from doing so yesterday]

Padre 10:04

[bet u both enjoyed that ;);););););)]

Trash Rat 10:04

Several people are typing…

[Suck a dick, Remus]

Emo Nightmare 10:05

[we did, actually]

Pops 10:05

[would but janjans at work :((]

Trash Rat 10:06

[Didn’t want to know, didn’t need to know.]

Roman 10:06

[Pat!]

Emo Nightmare 10:06

[Logan Ursa??? 4th yr medic??? Coffee addict???]

Snake Eyes 10:06

Roman stared at his phone for a second. That was faster than he had expected.

[u knew????? jan u held out on me??? the luv of ur greyspec life???]

Trash Rat 10:07

[You told Janus?! I’m your brother! He’s not even related to you!]

Emo Nightmare 10:07

[No I didn’t tell Janus!]

Roman 10:07

[I’m omniscient.]

Snake Eyes 10:08

[Plus I just asked Jannie for a list of all the Logans you could have associated with.]

Snake Eyes 10:09

[You and your sister scare me]

Roman 10:11

[He has surprisingly little internet presence.]

Snake Eyes 10:11

[Told you. He’s shy]

Roman 10:12

Sliding his phone back into his pocket, Roman returned to his room and picked up his laptop, this time to actually book the tickets he was supposed to have booked weeks ago. He had no doubt that they would arrive on Monday to discover that his family had already unearthed everything there was to know about his fake boyfriend - should he break that news to Logan before or after they were on the plane? Making the man paranoid might make their weekend photoshoot a lot more difficult.

Their photoshoot! If Logan was really on board, Roman would have to make this as easy as possible for him - and the performance of a lifetime for himself. Given that he was expected to bring a notebook to their meeting tomorrow, they were going to have to do a lot of brainstorming, so he might as well start coming up with ideas now. He already had a few as he grabbed a notepad from the mess on the floor and started hunting for a pencil.

No matter what his fake date said, this weekend was going to be a lot of fun.

#AUgust 2021 #fake dating au #logince #moxiety #dukeceit

33 notes · View notes

beautifulletdownfics · 4 years

Text

The Nearness of You - A Harry Styles One Shot

A friends to lovers one shot feat. birthdays, pining and stolen purses.

Hello, please enjoy this fever dream fic that came to me a week ago and is now somehow 13.5k and gracing your eyeballs. I’ve never written a one-shot of this nature before and it was quite a refreshing distraction from my usual, long-form fics. Thank you to Anne @oh-honey-styles for the encouragement (bullying) and for posting the pic that inspired it all. To everyone else, read on x katey *Because this is quite lengthy, I’d recommend opening in a browser because the Tumblr app can be glitchy*

My masterlist Chat to me here

“When you're in my arms And I feel you so close to me All my wildest dreams came true” The Nearness of You, Ella Fitzgerald & Louis Armstrong

You love the cold.

London in February isn't everybody's cup of tea, but you feel positively giddy walking down the icy Soho street in your new & Other Stories snow boots. The hard, black leather is already making your toes ache, and they're rubbing against the heel of your left foot, but they'll stretch to size, and you can tell these are going to be Your Signature Boots. The wind whips against your cheeks, red flushing them as you cross the laneway and push open the door to the chic little restaurant you've followed on Instagram for years but never had an excuse to try. Figures Harry chose it for tonight. Sometimes you wondered if the coincidences were a little too … Coincidental.

"Hi," you smile brightly to the maître d', "I'm uh … I'm here for the birthday? For Harry?"

Do I need to say his surname? You think to yourself.

"Can I have your name, please?" The suited man pulls a piece of paper out of the reservations book and waits for you to identify yourself. Your chest is rattling from the cold and the flurry of nerves you're all too familiar with ignoring.

"Y/N," you say your full name, taking in the dark floor of the restaurant, the flickering candles on the tables and lining the bar that takes up the entire left side of the room. The whole place is beautiful, just like you've double-tapped online; all deep reds and burgundies, vintage posters, and mismatched, dark wooden furniture. A jazz record plays just loudly enough to fuse the conversations at all the tables into one comfortable sound. It would make for a sexy place for a date, you decide, stolen touches under the table would feel thrilling and seductive.

The maître d' nods, you're on the list, "Back in the private dining room," he says, "Follow me this way."

You push your evening bag further up your shoulder and walk half the length of the bar, your eyes adjusting to the darkness. You catch the bartender watching you as you go, he's cute, and you give him an awkward little wave before calling out ahead of you.

"Sorry, excuse me," you get the attention of the man leading you through, "Can you point me to where I need to go? I'm going to get a drink to take in first if that's okay?"

"Just there," he points to the doorway at the back, next to the kitchen pass, "The curtain on the right."

Thanking him, you watch as he walks back to his station by the front door. You turn to the bar and rest your hands on the cool wood. They've stuck the pages together of old Little Golden Books for the drink menus, but you'll be ordering what you always get on birthdays, so don't take in the beverage options as you flip through The Tawny Scrawny Lion. You remember it from when you were a kid.

The bartender moves to stand in front of you, a gleam in his eyes and flirtatious smirk on his face, "Pretty good read, that one. You have to order a drink though, this isn't a library."

You laugh, he's laying it on a bit thick but probably just after the tip, "I was more a The Poky Little Puppy sort of girl."

He gives you a grin of approval, flipping a napkin up onto the bar in front of you, "What can I make for you?"

"I'll have two Old Fashioneds, please," you lean forward onto your elbows to give your feet a rest as he pulls up a second napkin and then two crystal, lowball glasses. "They're pretty," you comment without thinking.

"It's all about the glass," he confirms quickly, dropping brown sugar cubes into each one and then shaking bitters on top. Your eyes focus on the way the squares dissolve and fall in on themselves as he speaks again, "I'm Jack."

"Y/N," you give your name for the second time, throwing a brief smile his way, "I've never actually watched someone make these before."

Jack pauses and gives you a teasing look, "Do you want me to stop so you can get something to write this all down?"

You laugh and roll your eyes at him as he goes back to making the drinks. You're stalling. You know when you go through the curtain in the back there'll be a dozen people who're all dressed nicer than you, with more impressive jobs than you, who have funnier, more outrageous stories about the birthday boy than you. You'll need to stand awkwardly in the doorway for a few moments too long before Harry notices you, and then your greeting will be watched by all his cool, London friends.

You know better than to let any of that dull your shine—you really do—but you've had a rough few months, and if you're honest, you'd like your first time seeing Harry since the summer to be a little more low-key than this. So that's why you're wearing the new boots that hurt and might not suit the dress code because they're new and you feel good wearing them with this outfit. It feels a little special to be out celebrating Harry's (belated) birthday in a semi-new ensemble. You managed to fluke getting your hair and makeup just right, and yes, your legs do look pretty fantastic in these tights with the short, roll neck, knit dress, thank you very much.

"Here you go," Jack brings your attention back to him, you can smell the citrus twist in front of you, and the crystal glass deflects the light from the candles, "Can I put this on a tab for you? You're with the birthday?"

"I'll pay," you tell him, already digging for your card and holding it out to him.

"Oi!" You hear a very familiar voice call out from the far end of the bar, the hairs on the back of your neck stand up and you shiver, "What're you payin' for? What's she—don't take her money!"

You keep your arm out steadily to Jack and raise your eyebrows at him, "Take it," you urge him quickly, feeling him pluck it from your fingers just as you turn towards the voice you know so well.

That familiar Tom Ford cologne hits your nose just as Harry hurries up and deposits himself heavily against the bar, right up in your personal space. His broad frame blocks out the room to you, and he's lit softly in the dim light and looking radiant from within, as per usual. He's got his crazy eyes out—accusing you—and his eyebrows are pinched together slightly, but he looks good. Happy. Rested. Pleased to see you.

Harry's always pleased to see everyone, you tell yourself, Hold it together.

He pulls you into his chest for a hug. Your cheek presses just below his pecs, and you feel the way he's grown more defined since you last saw him. The material of his t-shirt is soft and smells clean. It's a tight squeeze he gives you, one that you resist reading into. Was it healthy for there to be so much comfort in a simple hug? Was your whole body allowed to tingle and fizz from the embrace of a friend? Was it pathetic to have been carrying around in your ribcage the same crush from when you were thirteen?

Affirmative. Without a doubt. Yes.

You haven't seen Harry since mid-September, the last time he was in London. Well, the last time he was in London and had time to see you. You're sure there were probably business trips, Christmas definitely. And going off Instagram, you think he might've flown into Manchester and spent a long weekend with Anne back in October, but if it was any of your business, it would've been your business. You needed to be grateful simply for what you got; intermittent texts about books he'd read or maybe a happy drunk voicemail if he thought of you at the right time. He sent an email at Christmas with a charitable contribution in your name instead of a gift.

"It's so good to see you," Harry says as he pulls away, all crinkled eyes and broad smiles. You don't know your grin has launched his heart into space and that despite having just gone to the bathroom, Harry feels due for a nervous wee. He thinks you look fucking gorgeous tonight. Knowing you've done your hair, and eyeliner, and picked that dress to come out and celebrate his birthday … It sends a jolt of desire straight to his groin—beauty blooms in front of his eyes in you.

Tell her, you idiot. Twenty-seven could be the year.

"Hi," you chirp at him happily and pick up one of the glasses in front of you, "I got you a drink."

Harry watches you fondly and then dramatically looks off to the side, lets out a little huff, "Typical Y/N, buying her own drink … You really think I wouldn't have one here for you?"

Nevertheless, he says a quiet thank you, takes the glass from you and deliberately sniffs it as if he's not sure what's inside or if he'll like it. You smack his arm lightly at the show and pick up your own glass, chinking it to the side of his and watching him over the rim as you both take your first sips. The familiar taste and view fill your tummy with gurgling happiness that sits high in your chest. He's dressed almost exactly how you expected him to be—smart, high-waisted dress pants and a printed t-shirt. You're glad you didn't go too formal, the restaurant is nice, but it's not Hatted or anything, not like the place he took you in LA that time, where you felt like the biggest idiot in the world for not realising beforehand, was properly fancy.

"Fuckin' delicious," he rumbles slowly, bringing you back to the cocktail, "A classic."

"Happy birthday," you tell Harry sweetly, thankful for what's likely to be your only quiet moment with him all night, "Sorry I couldn't make it to the LA party."

"Ah," Harry waves you off, "Your job's much too important here."

He means it. Harry's beyond proud of you. He's always telling people you work for the NHS, saving lives and keeping the country going. The party in LA was thrown together by some people at the last minute, and even though most of the friends he left in the backroom when he went to find the bathrooms a few moments ago were able to fly across for it, Harry's not the least bit put out by you not being able to. Would've been a big trip for you to do on your own and he knew there's no way you'd miss his London celebration. And you sent over a gift, which shouldn't have surprised him. His actual birthday was spent in LA, and that morning a parcel arrived from you—two new notebooks and a novel Harry read the back of and instantly knew he would love. It's what he read on the flight home to the UK.

Trust you to want him to have the gift on his birthday—go to all that trouble of packaging it and sending it over—when you were going to see him in London ten days later anyway. Harry could do worse than a friend like you.

"I just need a bit more notice than four da—

—Please," Harry's shaking his head at you, hating watching you apologise for something he really doesn't care about. "I'm glad you're here tonight," he tells you genuinely, fingers reaching out to brush your bangs away from your eyebrow briefly and—did the room just spin around you?—get a glimpse of the bronze sheen over your eyelids, "I haven't seen your new hair in person, looks lovely."

Lovely? he scolds himself, Lovely is a nice jam scone, lovely is a hug from mum …

"Oh," you coo, automatically sending your own fingers up to where Harry's had just been to reposition your newish bangs, "Thanks, still getting used to it, wanted to do it forever but wasn't brave enough to I guess."

"I like your natural hair colour, too," he continues slowly, eyes running over your whole head, "I mean, I loved how it used to be … But I like this a lot."

Shit, Harry's already failing to adhere to the strict series of pep talks he's given himself over the last couple of days. He's babbling, and he's probably just made you think he's not liked how you've had your hair for the previous twelve years. Is he buzzed from the cocktail or from the way your cheeks have gone a little pink since he touched you? His compliment made you squirm, and Harry wants to do it again and again until what he's feeling makes sense.

"Just, you know, feels like a throwback to the old days," he mumbles through another sip of the cocktail you both love, a glint appears in his eyes as he continues, "When you had Barbie overalls and would spend half a day plaiting your whole head in those tiny little rat tails."

Your mouth opens into a horrified O, and you let out a single laugh, "Rat tails? They were cool. And I was eleven when we met, I'd definitely already outgrown the Barbie overalls."

"Whatever you say," Harry smirks at you, signature dimples appearing on his cheeks, "I just remember those little beads from the ends of them ending up all over the bottom of the pool."

You smile at the memory. You remember duck diving with Gemma to collect all the beads so they could be put back into your hair the next day. Nearly drowning from laughing so hard at Harry and the other boys trying to stand on your backs in the water. Summers with Harry were always spent laughing. The local pool and skate park saw all your adventures. When Harry's dad moved in next door to your family after his parent's divorce, you and your brother hung off the fence, peering into the backyard to see if any toys or a trampoline might appear signally new kids next door. They didn't, and it wasn't until the summer when Harry and Gemma arrived for their holidays that you jumped the fence with ice lollies and offered yourself up as a new friend.

"Simpler times," you muse to yourself, looking up and catching the perplexed look Harry was giving you, "Spaced out a bit, sorry."

"I've missed my little weirdo," he grins at you affectionately, angling a little closer and levelling his head down to yours as he bit his lip and frowned, "Are you doing alright though?"

You let out a little sigh and avert your eyes to where Jack, the bartender, is busy making trays of drinks for different tables. Harry observes you carefully, a twinge of guilt forms for causing the sad look that's come over your face, but also for not having asked the question weeks ago. Gemma told him at Christmas, an off-handed comment about you being newly single. When he heard the evil gremlin in him was fucking relieved, just like he always was.

"I'm fine," you try a smile out and pull your lips up higher when you don't think Harry buys it, "Better. Had my crisis haircut and drank myself to tears with my work friends. Just a normal break up, really. M'getting used to them at this point."

A small, white lie.

Each breakup bruises you deeply. Talking about it afterwards fills you with a shame that makes you feel naked, like everyone else can see what's wrong with you but you. As though it's obvious why nobody's picked you yet. You don't ever want to talk about it afterwards, (especially not with Harry) don't want to draw attention to it. Prefer to let the disappointment and loneliness pool in your tummy and sit there heavily, weighing you down, waiting for the One Day someone spectacular might come along and be buoyant enough to float away with you.

You're looking for your forever. You want the cheesy romance, and the love, and marriage, and kids, and the whole stupid thing. You want to be wanted and loved and cherished. That's what you're ready for. You just can't find anyone who's ready for that with you. So, you date, have mediocre boyfriends who rarely make it to the first anniversary, then pick up the pieces and try again.

Wash, rinse, repeat.

"Well," Harry swallows, reaches out for your arm to make sure you look at him, "You look beautiful tonight. And it's his loss, he's clearly a monumental idiot."

You give Harry a noncommittal hum in response. Just as you're about to say something you shouldn't—get into details you bet Harry really isn't that interested in knowing—you catch the movement of someone appearing from the doorway behind Harry and then approaching you both.

"Harry, mate," you don't know the guy who's recognised Harry's back and is calling out for his attention now, "Thought you might've fallen in."

Harry snaps around quickly to the voice, blocking your view. You take another sip of your drink and pull in a deep breath. Not fitting into any of Harry' groups socially has its downfalls. If his sister wasn't around, you tended to have to make friends at anything Harry invites you to. You're not part of his Holmes Chapel crew or his LA friends, and you definitely don't fit into the London group. Over the years there have been faces you've come to find familiar, but you're still the singular, hanger-on friend from Harry's second childhood home.

Peering around Harry's shoulder, you catch the end of a look between the two guys you think alludes to this new friend gauging whether Harry needs rescuing from you. You briefly wish the ground would open and swallow you whole. You know that look well.

"Aiden, this is Y/N," Harry raises his arm and angles to pull you around in front of him.

You hold up your drink, awkwardly, "Hi."

Aiden gives you a hesitant smile, "Hello," then he raises his eyebrows at Harry, "Harry, you coming back in, mate?"

Harry bites his lip and chuckles, reading the look on his friend's face, "You're a prick, I don't need saving. Known Y/N since I was twelve, we were just catching up."

You feel yourself go bright red, and you're thankful for the forgiving lighting. This isn't the first time this exact scenario has happened to you. You've been on the receiving end of that uneasy look before—his friends checking if the girl who isn't there with anyone else is supposed to be there at all. Backstage at the O2, a member of Harry's security once hauled you to the tour manager's office to check your VIP credentials were legitimate. You'll take that story with you to the grave.

Aiden deflates slightly and waves a hand your way, "Shit, sorry, thought he'd been cornered by a fan again … I mean, a pretty fan to say the least but …" he coughs into his hand when Harry gives him a glare you don't see, "Great to meet you."

"No worries," you wave it off like it's nothing. The truth is your brain has short-circuited at Harry's palm resting on the small of your back, he's not moved it from when he first brought you forward. Friendly touches weren't strange between you, but this lingering, comforting hand is burning a hole in you tonight. You haven't been out and had anyone touch you since your breakup, and Harry is setting off all you nerve endings. You tilt your weight onto your other foot to pull back from him slightly, but Harry's hand travels with you. "We should go back, I might use the loo first though, is it that way?"

Harry watches you point in the direction of the bathroom, you're flustered and he really wishes he could tell Aiden to buzz off so he could just take another few minutes with you. Brief you on who was in the room you were about to go into. You wouldn't know any of them, and Harry always appreciated that you came to things on your own, particularly when you wouldn't know anyone aside from him once you got there. He should have invited his sister so you'd have a buddy. Or told you to bring a friend. Not a boyfriend, though.

He watches you take the final drag from your drink and put the glass down on top of the bar, "Thanks Jack, t' was dee-lish," you catch the attention of the bartender, throwing him a beaming grin. And Harry watches the way the guy's features light up at being called on by you. Envy rumbles in Harry's gut, he recognises the dumb smile and dopey nod of Barman Jack's head. Has felt it a hundred times himself when he's been on the receiving end of your quirky humour.

You walk away, and Harry feels Aiden watching him, "She's fit," he comments, trying to get a rise out of Harry, reading the room perfectly.

"Fuck you," Harry grunts at him.

Harry sits opposite you at the long table in the private dining room.

You nurse a glass of rosé and eat the food slowly, savouring it. You deliberated over the menu for a long time before settling on what to order, you've seen photos of most of the dishes online, but there were several new ones too. Harry goes off your recommendations but spends a lot of the dinner talking to the people sitting beside him. He knows if he tried talking to you right now, he'd just get lost in you, which is both rude for a birthday party and bound to be too conspicuous.

You insert yourself into a conversation with the girls sitting next to you and pretend you're good at making friends. They spend most of the meal talking about something that was on the telly the night before. You were on shift so missed it, but pretend to be interested or like you might've seen it—anything to not stick out like a sore thumb.

Harry watches you out the corner of his eye the whole time. You've shrugged off your jacket, and he recognises the gold necklace you've got around the collar of your dress, sitting over the black fabric on your chest. He's pretty sure it was a gift from Gemma a few years ago, you wear it all the time. Harry makes a note to get you something that compliments it for your birthday coming up. You're chatting to one of his mate's girlfriends and Lisa who's been on his publicity team for years. Those would've been the two he'd have introduced you to first as well. He can't stop watching the way your lips turn up every time something funny is said, or one of the girls makes eye contact with you. Watching you try with his other friends always makes Harry feel warm and giddy for some reason.

Fuck, he's missed you. And he berates himself for the fact he never seems to remember that until he sees you again. (It's strategic usually, his heart doesn't take your company well when he knows you're going home to someone else) You're so engaging and kind and unintentionally charming, and you always have time for him. Harry knows he's not an easy human to be friends with; he constantly ducks in and out and is never around for the big things, let alone being available to call on a random day to just hang out with. The friendship is always on his terms, and he knows it makes him a selfish prick. You definitely could've done with a call a couple of months back when you had your heart broken. Like always, he missed it, and by the time he was sending you a message about an episode of Midsomer Murders, he felt as though the moment to console you had passed, and Harry didn't want to draw attention to the fact he wasn't around for it.

"Harry?"

"Hmm?" His head snaps back around to the person next to him, thoughts still on you across the table. He agrees with whatever was said and does his best to catch up.

Harry's got to stop thinking about how you're single at the moment. He really does.

A few hours later, it's the girl sitting to your left, Lisa, who first mentions the idea of kicking on.

It's after dessert—after everyone sang happy birthday to Harry over a round of espresso martinis—and you're starting to think that if you leave now, you'll be home before midnight, which means the tube won't be too deserted to feel safe. You're also at a comfortable place to wake up without a hangover in the morning. Two cocktails and a glass of wine over dinner, because any more and you're scared you could say something stupid to the wrong (right) person.

Harry's face lights up, and he looks around the room, eager at the idea of going to a bar or two for more drinks. He's not been out in London for the longest time, and he's happily buzzed enough to not be too worried about running into people. Feels like this group of friends have gelled well together. How often does he get to have a night like this in London? Hardly ever.

"Yeah, let me sort out the tab and then we're good to go," Harry says, pushing his seat back from the table and standing up, his hands hunting his pockets for his wallet and phone, "I'll be right back."

When he goes, you decide now's as good a time as any to split. You pull your coat on and say goodbye to the friends you made over the meal. Lisa gives you her business cards as if speaking to you had been part of her job, you slip it straight into your coat pocket and can already picture it at the bottom of the garbage in your kitchen. You revisit the bathrooms, and when you come back out into the main restaurant area, Harry's still leaning against the front desk, chatting to the maître d' from earlier.

He feels your small hand land on his back and jolts upright at the contact, your gentle voice calling his name softly, "Harry, I'm going to head home."

He spins around, and you catch the fall of his face, "What? No … No. You're the one I want to hang out with the most," his bottom lip juts out and his brows furrow. "Y/N."

"Thanks a fuckin' lot, mate," you hear a male voice laugh at your back, they slip behind you and out into the chilly air, and Harry flips them the bird. You were pushed closer into his chest as they jostled past and he steadied you with his arms latched onto your forearms. Still watching outside, you see a cigarette lighter flare-up on the footpath and the end of an orange butt glow spectacularly in the night. When you glance back at Harry, he's not looking happy.

"Don't pout," you tell him lightly, you reach up and press the skin taut between his eyes smooth again, "Can't wrinkle that rockstar face of yours."

His face lights up, and his skin heats where you made contact, "You can't go yet."

"Harry," your features tangle into something like a grimace, "You'll have a better time without me. Everyone seems to be pretty tight—"

—Y/N," he gives you a final, pleading look, "Please come."

You make out like you're stomping your foot in defiance, "Fine."

"Score!" Harry cheers under his breath, shrugging his jacket up over his shoulders and saying a final round of thank yous to the staff. When you're out on the street at Harry's side somebody mentions the name of the next place and points the direction of it, Harry places a hand on your shoulder as you start to walk and leans down to your ear, "I just have one condition for you coming."

You pull back and look at him, "I don't think you get conditions when you've begged me to be here."

"A birthday condition then," he edits, pressing his lips together and smiling at you with his eyes, "You have to promise to do what I say before I ask it."

You narrow your eyes at him, "I suppose you only turn twenty-seven once. You can have a single wish from me."

Harry laughs and slips his fingers under the strap of your evening bag, "Give me this."

You think briefly he means to carry it for you, which is a strange thing for Harry to request. But then he unzips it in front of you and starts rifling around inside it, slipping your phone under his arm so he can move around the lipstick and tissues and emergency Galaxy bar to eventually pull out your small purse.

"Harry! What are you—

—Ah, ah!" He holds it all away from you and reminds you of the promise. "This is mine for the night," he says, slipping your purse into his coat pocket. "Otherwise you'll end up buying too many rounds."

You try to sneak your hand into the pocket after your wallet, "Don't be stupid. It's your birthday, I'll buy every round if I need to."

"Exactly my point," he steps away from you down the street, and you skip to be back at his side. He's stolen your money and your chocolate bar.

"Harry, give it back."

"Nope," he pops the 'p' and hands you back the bag, the Galaxy bar hanging from between his teeth, still in the packet, "You promised. Now hurry up and walk, and I might give you a bite of this. 'm freezing my balls off, we are not in LA anymore."

So that's how you end up in the next bar, your handbag a little lighter, squished into Harry's side with a pleasantly sour cocktail he paid for between your fingers. The booth is so far into the back wall you're not even really sure which direction the front door is anymore. Somehow, you've managed to sit ten people around a booth probably designed for six, but nobody seems to be bothered.

Your whole right side is on fire, though.

You can feel Harry from the top of your shoulder all the way to your ankle. His hip sits neatly next to yours, Harry's left elbow rests just above your right thigh, and your knees press together every time he gets excited when he speaks and unintentionally opens his legs up. If Harry's bothered by it there's no way you'd know, he's hardly looked at you since you all sat down, much less uttered a word of discomfort about the seating arrangements. Makes no sense really, when he seemed so desperate for you to stay out with them.

(Next to you Harry's felt like he was high most of the time, he's flashing in and out of the conversations around him. Because he can smell your perfume—Stella by Stella McCartney, he'd know that fragrance anywhere, you've been wearing it since you were seventeen—and you're warm and snug beside him. He feels completely insane. But he also feels inflated with a heart-crushing joy at having you so close. He's trying his best not to draw attention to it or to you because what he's always liked most about your friendship is that you're just his. God, he needs to do better at seeing you more often, talking more, being more. Each breath as he's touching you is like a crack of electricity through his chest that aches beautifully. Nobody else feels like this. Even when he's dated, what he's felt with them can't hold a candle to his boyhood crush on you.)

You sip your drink and laugh at the embarrassing story that's being told about Harry, oblivious to his torment. Oblivious to how Harry feels your forearm brush his leg and has the overwhelming desire to deposit his palm on your thigh and keep it there, probably forever.

It strikes you that the last time you saw Harry was before the current anecdote about him in Italy happened, and at the table, it's being spoken about as though it was ancient history. You wonder what historic classification your memory of thirteen-year-old Harry would get, that time he attempted to bleach his hair with lemon juice. He ended up with second-degree burns on his forehead from the acid reacting with the sun.

Or the time Gemma stayed in Holmes Chapel for the summer because she had her first boyfriend, and so you spent six weeks learning that maybe you'd been wrong about who your favourite Styles child was. Maybe the boy who, when you were eleven, didn't impress you much, suddenly at thirteen, demanded all your attention. Made that summer become the first where you considered your outfits and whether your mum sending you next door with homemade snacks made you look lame.

"… And of course, Harry can't walk away from a dance floor when he's on the tequila …" everyone around the table laughs. Harry peeks at you to make sure you are too, but he's not very good at it because you notice, a smile flares on your lips.

You're used to long periods of not seeing each other, it's how it's always been. Harry and Gemma spent the summers with their dad and then returned to Holmes Chapel for real life. Sometimes that's what it still felt like, as though each time you saw either of them you were acutely aware there was a foreign Real Life they would go back to without you.

Harry in particular. You were used to not seeing him for months on end, usually the whole school year. Just a few messages over MySpace and birthday cards, and then, when you were out of school, invites to parties Harry couldn't come to anymore—'I'm in Australia, how insane is that? Sorry, I'll miss your 18th …' or 'I can only stay until the 8th, could you maybe graduate a week earlier? ;)'—and emails every other month with a new mobile number for you to overwrite his contact in your phone with. You're not saying you feel hard done by in your friendship, you don't. It's just always very take-what-you-can-get with Harry.

"You've got your thinky eyes on," he's pivoted his whole body towards you, hips twisted in an entirely uncomfortable looking position. Harry's got his resting elbow on the table right next to where your hand holds your drink, and he's looking down at you with careful eyes, "Where are you?"

"The pool a dozen summers ago," you answer easily, pursing your lips together and running a knuckle along your hairline, "Thinking about your ah, burn incident."

Harry's face explodes in a grin, and his eyes roll up to the ceiling and then capture yours again, "For fuck's sake, you're never going to stop bringing that up, are you?"

"You were a horrible blonde," you remark quickly, "If you ever so much as blink in the direction of a packet of bleach you have to call me, okay? I'll have no issue telling you, categorically, you should never dye your hair."

"Categorically," Harry mimics you childishly, "Alright, I get it, you went to uni. No need to use words with fifty syllables to make me feel stupid."

You bring your glass up to your lips, "Come off it, Harry, you're ten times smarter than me."

His forehead raises, "You're the cleverest person I know. Don't make me call Gem to confirm it."

"Don't bring your sister into this, Harry," you deadpan.

He goes to reply but holds back, something unnamable travelling across his eyes as he watches you lick your lips after taking another sip of your drink. Harry's leaning a little closer than he might usually, and despite the fact he's a few drinks in he still smells only of Tom Ford and clean clothes. He's just about to ask you what you're doing the next day when he gets hit in the side of the head with a coaster.

"Hey," he cries out, pulling back from you and frowning around at the group trying to figure out who the culprit is," 'M the fucking birthday boy, watch it."

Lisa is the girl directly across from Harry and yourself, and she's is the one who threw it. She's giving Harry a coy smile and holds up her empty glass to him, a not so subtle request makes the drink in your hand feel like a concrete brick. Something dirty you don't like having. She's got captivating blue eyes and straight blonde hair—exactly Harry's usual type. Your heart sinks as he slides out of the booth next to you, laughing at her flirtatious request and taking a tally of who else wants a new drink.

"Y/N?" Your name is delicate on his lips, and it makes you want to cry. Why is it so easy for you to make things feel like they mean more with him?

You direct your smile his way, "I'm good, thanks."

His head tilts to one side, "You sure?"

"Positive," you nod, feeling your cheeks burn as everyone watches the exchange.

"Okay," Harry taps the table with the corner of his phone, "I'll be right back."

After a few moments, you sneak off to the bathroom, happy to see Harry's beaten you back from the bar when you return. He's sitting in your spot, deep in conversation with the person beside him who you recognise from the radio. Tentatively, you slip in next to him, careful not to touch him this time. Harry's got his hand casually resting on the table, turning your glass forty-five degrees one way and then back the other way as he speaks. You think about reaching over and pulling it out of his hand gently (you're losing your buzz, and Little Miss Bombshell across the table has made you feel silly and juvenile) but it looks to be an almost serious conversation, so you don't. With a smile plastered on your face, you look around the table, resisting the urge to pull out your phone to check if either of your flatmates has text you to meet up with them somewhere.

It's a delicious whiff of your perfume behind him that turns Harry's head. You're back from the bathroom, although nobody was able to confirm that's where you went when he got back from the bar and asked after you. Harry pushes your drink over and gives you a smile, taking note of the fresh layer of lipstick and messy oomph to your hair that perfectly shows off the new style and bangs.

Golden, he thinks, As always,

"Your new hair really does look beautiful," Harry tells you, the bar stilling around you as his face becomes all the world is for you at that moment, "Next time, don't wait for a dickhead to break your heart before doing something to make yourself feel good."

You swallow down the thickness in your throat, "Thanks, Harry."

Walking to the next bar, Harry can't stop himself from asking.

"What happened?"

You kick your foot out as you wait at a set of traffic lights, half the group ran to cross, but you, Harry and a couple of others were too slow, "What happened with what?"

Harry watches his breath fan out in front of his face, "With your ex, with …"

"Tim."

"Tim, yeah," he turns to look down at you, hands tucked into his coat pockets, "What happened with Tim?"

"Nothing really," you start strong, then shrug one shoulder as you think about it. It's safe to cross so you wait until you're stepping up over the gutter and onto the opposite footpath before you continue, "Probably a lot of little things but … Always felt like he thought I was asking for a bit too much. I guess in the end he just didn't like me all that much."

The way your voice drops kills Harry, he's not detecting self-deprecation but something far worse. He's detecting acceptance or acknowledgement or like you're confessing some truth that should have been obvious.

"Y/N," he stops walking and halts you as well, lets Adrian and Lisa walk around and out in front of you, "If he didn't like you very much then he's got some kind of chemical imbalance. I mean it, this guy's not worth a second of your heartache."

It's not like Harry's a dickhead about it, not like he thinks you should date people with more money or status or who are more impressive. A person isn't their job or what car they drive, he knows that. Harry's not about judging anyone, but you really do seem to date guys not worthy of you. He hasn't met many of them, but Harry knows this to be true because if they were worthy, you simply wouldn't be single right now. If you dated someone half-decent, there wouldn't be a chance in hell they'd let you go. You're beautiful and thoughtful and intelligent and funny—so funny—which means Harry knows without a doubt that this Tim guy was an absolute fuckwit.

"It's not necessarily about the guy," you start and Harry can hear the thick emotion in your voice, "Is it? It's about the idea. The disappointment is more about not getting the fairytale, not finding my person. Not getting the whole package everyone else seems to have found. I know Tim wasn't right—truth be told I didn't end up liking him very much either—doesn't stop me from being sad that I still haven't found it."

"'It'… That's what you're looking for?" Harry asks, eyes out front where the rest of the group are all stopped waiting at another set of traffic lights.

They're laughing and chatting loudly to other people on nights out, and hanging off street poles to get funny pictures. He doesn't want to catch up to them, not when the two of you are in the middle of this conversation that's making his heart race and his hands sweat. He starts taking smaller steps.

"Yeah," you breathe out, almost sounding ashamed of yourself, "Don't seem to be looking in the right places."

Look over here, Harry thinks.

"But I mean, each breakup I end up getting something out of it," you've flicked your positivity switch, "This time I got these boots and bangs," you kick out your foot and watch Harry take note of your footwear, "Last break up I got four houseplants and a new watch … It's not all bad. What about you?" you turn it back on Harry, "Are you seeing anyone at the moment?"

It's hard to tell with Harry. You either find out from his sister or sometimes, social media. Although that's all usually trash. Generally, when Harry's seeing someone, you'll hear it confirmed from Gemma, and the next time you see Harry, it'll be something you're assumed to know. You haven't seen Gemma since Christmas time though, for your annual festive get together, and she didn't mention anything. Tim had ended things with you a few days before, so that was the main topic of conversation.

"No," Harry confirms what you'd already deduced—and hoped—in your head, "Not for a while now."

"Got your eye on anyone?" You quiz faux cheekily, your smile a little too wide.

Yes, you, he says to himself as he looks at the side of your face.

You hope he's not got some girl in LA he's into. Just like you'd hoped his answer to the previous question. But the hope was silly, something that bloomed in your chest each time you saw him and died again before you were home in your bed, alone.

"I'll let you know," he says aloud.

You think you see something else there in his expression, but you know you can't have. Your mind is swirling, and you're feeling a tingling sensation all over that you know you shouldn't. It'll only leave you disappointed when you part ways tonight and don't see him for another few months. The tiny bits of maybe mores and perhaps are dangerous to things to cling on to now, they'll all turn into Nothings very quickly.

Someone steals his attention away from you when you get to the next street corner. Most of the group are gathered there, and you're not sure whether to believe it when Lisa says they missed the green man to cross the road because they were talking. She sides up to Harry and starts waving her hands around in an animated story about something or other. Harry crosses the street with her, and you give him up for the night.

But he's acutely aware of what's happened. Harry's not stupid—he's emotionally intelligent, and spent enough time with Lisa on nights out before—and he can see that she's deliberately pulled him aside. He likes her, quite a bit, but she doesn't make his insides flip, or his toes curl. She's firmly Just A Friend. Harry hasn't spent countless hours over the years thinking about her, lying to himself about how he's completely fine when she starts dating someone new. He's never thought about an alternative life, one where he stayed at school and went to uni and got a regular job and maybe (definitely) ended up with her.

He's imagined that life with you—more than once. More than a dozen times, if he's honest. For years now, Harry's bitten his tongue and smiled through the pain of not being able to have you. And sure, most of the time it's a dull ache, deep in the recess of his mind, that needs to be called on or conjured to really be felt, but it's always been there. He's always had an (Astronomical) Soft Spot For You. Ever since that summer you broke your arm falling off the back of the ramp at the skate park, and he first saw you cry. At fifteen he didn't know what the hollow but sharp pain through his heart was as he rushed to your side, but now he knows that was the first sign he didn't see you as just a mate. Would never again see you as just a mate.

And now, hearing you use the word 'it'. You say you're out there dating idiots trying to find it and Harry's just unwaveringly sure he that could be him. He wants to be it for you.

You've pulled out your phone and fallen behind, face pulled down as you type away furiously. Harry watches you out of the corner of his eye, half just to watch you and half to make sure you don't get separated entirely from the safety of the group.

"Y/N," he calls out, unable to keep up with Lisa's story and unwilling to try to tune back into it. She stops short, and annoyance flits across her face, but Harry still turns to you, still crosses his arms over his chest and gives you his best scolding look, "It's the oldest trick in the book," he goads you. Lisa sighs behind him, and he ignores it.

Your head slowly comes up and takes in Harry (and Lisa sulking behind him), "What is?"

"Fallin' behind so you can peek at my bum."

You point at the long coat Harry's wearing that goes to his knees, "Can't see half of you under that thing."

"Ah, ha!" He calls out, his pointer finger floating in the air right in front of your face, "So you've tried."

You shove his shoulder and step around him, trying like anything to act neutrally. You're aware Lisa is still watching on, and you're not used to your friendship with Harry being quite so carefully observed. You know your face has gone red and you're really not going to involve yourself in a pissing contest with her. It's not classy and certainly not your vibe.

As you walk away, boots clip up behind you, and Harry heavily drapes his arm right across your shoulders, pulls you into his side, "Was just teasin', love."

"I know," you respond quietly, not upset, not really.

"Though I might've made you sad," Harry continues solemnly, "Know you get embarrassed in front of people."

Your face cracks into a smile, "Opposite of you, hey, you're practically an exhibitionist."

He should flirt because you've led him to a pretty easy window into a dirty joke, but something has Harry hanging onto his regret, "I mean it, shouldn't tease you …Should be old enough to use my words, tell you what I think."

You've got no idea what he's on about, "Harry, the teasing was fine. Where's this bloody bar though?"

Up ahead, everyone's standing on the footpath in a clump. Harry can feel the next words on his lips but has to hold them in when his mates turn and see he's finally caught up. They're waiting a few minutes for a table, someone explains, then they'll be able to go in. Harry thinks how little he feels like another drink at another bar. A few people walk away from the group to share cigarettes. You're standing a little bit away, under the sign for the butcher next-door and kick your foot back against the wall like the slight movement might warm you up.

As he steps up to you, Harry watches you get distracted by the group of people spilling out of the bar you're all about to go into. He doesn't want to take advantage of knowing you're newly single also doesn't want to let this opportunity pass. You're always dating someone, or he is, or there's some other reason not to. There's always a reason to hold back from you and Harry refuses to believe it's the drinks he's had nudging him into this. Neither of you is drunk, he wouldn't even say he's tipsy anymore. Just warm and contemplative and less inhibited than usual.

"C' mere," he calls softly, the tips of his boots landing right in front of yours, your bodies a hands' width apart. He wants you closer.

"Harry—

He opens up his coat to you and when you don't move—your brain is busy short-circuiting—he acts for you and winds his arm around your shoulder to encase you in the warmth, "Get in," Harry says, "You're shivering."

You're shocked by the contact, at him being so close and inviting you in and then just taking you in his jacket. He's wrapped the lapels around both your bodies and forced you against his chest. He hums against you, but you're feeling incredibly awkward with your arms hitched up against your chest and pressed rigidly into his shoulders. You've not been in a hold like this before and certainly not with Harry.

He pulls back and digs around for your wrists, "You've gotta put them around me," he stretches his arms behind his back, taking yours with them and instructing you to really settle against him. "There, that's better," he wraps the jacket back around you, and the two of you stand like that—hearts pressed together, scents converging and your whole frame shaking against his—for what seems like far too long for it mean nothing. Right? Your thoughts ricocheted around inside his jacket and go nowhere, solve nothing in your mind.

Over your shoulder, he sees the rest of the group have gone into the bar. He's not surprised none of them called out, Harry's angled you both away from the door and with his head ducked down against yours they probably (hopefully) missed you both there.

It's Harry's twenty-seventh birthday, and maybe that's made him sullen or introspective. Made him think about the passage of time and how another year has passed him by, yet here he stands in the same place as ever—wanting you. Wishing for more, or waiting for a moment that feels right, or hoping something will happen. With growing older comes a sense of regret and an acceptance that twenty-six has happened and anything he wanted to achieve by that age but didn't he never will. There's only the future. Only the things he can do. And the mix of all that with the cocktails has Harry feeling as though he has to act on this. Every birthday he thinks maybe by the next one the Somethings or the Maybes might have happened, and you won't be standing in front of him as just his friend.

"Always had a thing for you," Harry says, his chin resting against the crown of your head while his arms link around low on your back, holding you against him, "I've always liked you more than I should."

Oh god, you think, your chest freezing in place, I'm hallucinating.

"What?" Now your heart is really racing. Or maybe it's completely stopped, seized up and fallen out of your chest onto the salt-covered footpath.

His voice comes out evenly as he repeats himself, "Feels bigger than a crush, but I guess that's what it is … Since we were kids."

(Oh, how those words have been his best-kept secret for all these years but now, in less than two seconds, he's let go of them more easily than almost anything else he's ever done)

"Y/N?"

Harry thought he'd be scared. Thought this would be a moment of panic. Every time he's imagined this he's thought 'and I'd be absolutely shitting myself because what if she doesn't feel the same way?' but now that he's said it he's almost completely calm. The only reason he's worried is that he can feel how hard your heart is beating—even through the layers of clothing—and surely that quickly can't be good for your health.

You're speechless, and he leans back so he can see your face and, oh your eyes. Why on earth didn't he say it to your face, so he could be looking in your eyes? Watch his words project across your expression and settle into your mind.

You look worried, and Harry's transported back to that time he had you on FaceTime when he was somewhere on tour with One Direction. He was telling you about how management was going to let them fly friends out on tour, bring a little bit of home along and give the boys some needed space from each other. You were nodding along and so excited for him but sure Harry was talking about someone else, that this was just news and he'd called up to tell you how he was inviting the boys he went to school with in Cheshire or people he met through X-Factor. Of course I'm bringing out you and Gem, you idiot, he'd told you when you were surprised to get an invite, Who else did you think I was talking about?

He kind of loves watching the look on your face right now, the cogs turning in your head and wheels spinning, furiously trying to figure out what Harry means.

Why isn't he terrified of what you're about to say?

"Why … but you've… and I've…"

Your hands have moved to his hips so you can see him properly, and Harry's encouraged by the fact you haven't pulled away or pushed him off you. You're watching him with a puzzled look on your face and a burning heat across your cheeks.

He brings his forearms up to rest on your shoulders and smiles at you, "I wasn't brave enough to act on it … Guess I didn't want to fuck it up. Didn't want it to not work out. Couldn't stand you becoming an ex."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"Right." You don't seem capable of more than one word at a time.

"You feel bad for yelling at me about the chocolate bar now, don't you?" Harry's narrowed his eyes playfully.

That does it.

Your eyes snap back up to his face from being fixated on staring at his neck, "Chocolate bar … No, what the fuck, Harry."

He laughs. A real laugh that comes from the base of his tummy and squeezes his eyes shut and crinkles his nose. His head falls back, and it's a deep, uninhibited laugh, "Don't stomp your new boots at me," he eventually says, crooking his head down to be almost pressing his forehead against yours. "You've been my favourite girl for years, I've always been a pansy idiot who didn't want to wreck the friendship."

"Oh, and now you don't mind wrecking it?" You bark back sarcastically, unsure why you're angry at him but you are.

"No," Harry says softly, moving through your emotional responses seamlessly, "I don't think it's going to wreck it, do you? Think twenty-seven has finally given me the balls to pursue it. To tell you how I feel. How I've always felt."

Your eyes instantly ball with hot tears you weren't prepared for, "You're an idiot."

"I am," he agrees readily, fingers playing with the ends of your hair.

"Why have you told me this now," your voice is small, unsure.

Harry frowns, now he's starting to panic, "Do you … Do you not feel the same? Or do you not think maybe you could?"

Oh, if only he could have been in your head every time you saw him these last few years. Heard you talk yourself down and away from anything more than platonic, from any thoughts that might elevate you in his eyes. You've spent all this time trying to convince yourself to believe you were nothing more than a friend to him, and now this.

"Harry, are you sure you—

—I'm sure," he insists quickly.

"I just—

—I'm sure."

You're suddenly very embarrassed by the conversation the two of you had earlier about your ex. The conversation where you basically told Harry you're incredibly desperate to settle down and find The One. He's so achingly cool, and you feel like a little tinned tomato, thin-skinned and persistently flustered.

Tinned tomato? Really? You berate yourself, Case in bloody point.

"Y/N"

You scratch roughly at your forehead and grimace at whatever thoughts are going through your mind, "I'm just …"

Harry brings one hand up to fix your bangs, carefully sweeping the hair back across your forehead evenly, letting the pads of his fingers dust over your skin, "I think if you didn't feel the same you'd have said No by now."

His words steal the air from your lungs, "Harry, you've just always …"

"I've always?"

"I never thought …"

The smile comes up over his face gently, "It's me, Y/N, please finish a sentence. I'd really like to kiss you, but you haven't yet said anything to imply you'd be open to that …"

You pull your lips together like a reflex you can't help, you've rarely let yourself fall that deep into imaging things with Harry, but your body reacts to his words in an instant, "Promise you're not kidding …"

"I promise I'm not kidding," Harry said sincerely. "I'd never kid around about this, Y/N."

You believe him, and ten seconds of bravery comes over you, "I was thirteen."

His eyes narrow slightly, trying to figure out what you mean, "Thirteen?"

"My thing for you," you continue quietly, heart racing as adrenaline swamps your legs, "Started the summer I turned thirteen."

Harry hears the slight shaking to your voice and almost misses what you've said. Then it hits him.

"Oh yeah?" He squints at you and pulls up his nose with a smile, a secret little smile that will never belong to anyone but the two of you. The Smile that happened just before Harry leant down and kissed you for the first time, pressed his warm lips against your cold ones and really breathed you in.

He holds it like that for a moment, your lips touching but not moving. Then his hands come up to cup your face, and Harry moves his mouth to one side, just a touch. You open up to him, and he has the brief thought that this is probably the Most Important Kiss Of His Life. His insides curl in on themselves as he gets completely lost in you. Completely lost in how perfect this moment feels and how much finally kissing you feels like a relief.

You can't believe this is happening. You're still tucked into Harry's coat—warm and safe—but now you're joined at the mouth, and Harry's a really really good kisser. He's got his thumbs pressed into your cheeks and his fingers laced through the hair around your ears. When his tongue first licks your bottom lip and then goes searching for yours, you don't think you've felt yourself flicker On so quickly. A soft moan escapes your lips, and Harry's kiss somehow becomes harder, his nose bumping yours where he'd been good at keeping things smooth until then. As quickly as it intensifies, Harry takes a slight step back and drags his mouth away from yours.

"Y/N," he breaths out your name, sealing your lips with one of his thumbs as he pulls back. Harry's taking stock of your face (hopefully) getting used to being this close to you. Noting the way your eyelashes kink out at an odd angle right at the corner of your eye, and the freckle that's so close to the edge of your mouth he's never noticed it before. Harry's can feel your heart has slowed down, and the expression on your face right now is content, but curious. He's also sure he can see fear under it all.

"Well," your voice shakes, because Harry's looking at you like you've only dreamed and now that you're here you're not really sure what happens next. You kissed Harry.

He clears his throat lightly and his hands both fall to hold either side of your neck, "There's no way I'm going back to not being able to do that whenever I want."

Then, he kisses you again. You feel yourself melt against him as Harry's chest presses back against yours. You link your arms around his waist, clutching the back of his shirt between your fingers as Harry leads the kiss with a hand on your neck and the other holding your chin carefully. You've picked up right where the last one let off, hungry and exploring and a little bit desperate (perhaps a lot desperate) to have more of each other.

But then his phone rings in his trousers pocket, right against your hip, and you jump away in surprise.

"Shit," Harry mutters, pulling the stupid machine out, cursing the universe, "Sorry … It's Aiden," he tells you with an eye-roll.

And then you're back to reality. Your drinks have all worn off, your feet ache, your ears are freezing, and you've just made out with one of your oldest, best friends. Shit.

"Oh," you take a hearty step back, hands slipping out from Harry's coat and your body bracing the full brunt of the cold night, "Yeah … That's—

—Aiden," Harry barks the name of his mate down the phone while at the same time hooking his free arm around the back of your neck and pulling you close again. He's not giving up touching you that easily, and he doesn't care, quite frankly, about giving you any room to start internalising or retreating from him, "No, we've gone to get some food … I'll see you during the week sometime. Tell everyone thanks for—Yes, I'm serious … I don't care, saw all you lot last week … I'm hanging up now. Bye."

You listened in on the conversation because it was really all you could do. Aiden was obviously inside the bar, and they were all wondering where Harry got to. We've gone to get some food, Harry told him, so they'd know he was with you. (You supposed he was hardly going to say, 'oh yeah we've been out the front making out') Bits and pieces of the other end of the conversation, you were able to pick up on, but not enough to truly know what was said. By the end of the call, Harry was smiling though, you could hear it in his voice.

His nose found the shell of your ear and Harry leant into you, "Come back to mine, or we can go to yours … Watch a movie, play Scrabble, anything … Just wanna be with you."

"It's two o'clock in the morning, Harry," you murmur, your mind struggling to make sense of what's just happened. You're outside a club in Soho held against Harry's chest with lips that know what he tastes like and a body that's on fire.

"I'm not tired," he shoots back, "Are you?"

"Well, no but—

—Great," Harry turns towards the road, takes a few steps to the curb (you trot along with him under his arm), as he flags down a black cab. "Mine or yours?"

His question is simple, he prompts you to answer by calling your name as he opens the door for you and gestures for you to hurry up and get in.

"Yours," you say.

Harry doesn't speak much in the cab, you figure it's about privacy. You hope it's about privacy. The thirty-minute drive out of the city and to his place feels much longer. Halfway through he reaches over for your hand and gives you a reassuring smile across the back seat. You thought the journey might make you sleepy, the sitting down in a warm car would bring the haze over your eyes and bring the long day to a close in your mind. But you could never feel sleepy with Harry's fingers playing with yours, or when he leans over and kisses your cheek for no reason at all.

At his house, Harry tells you to make yourself at home while he turns on the kettle for a cuppa. You kick your boots off in the hallway, and your feet start throbbing in relief as you follow his retreating form. It's certainly not the lusty, hurried entry you imagined you might have. Which only plants doubts in your mind about what's actually going on between the two of you.

"I'm just going to use the bathroom," you call out ahead of you, turning back to the stairs and taking yourself up to Harry's second storey.

Upstairs you don't take long. You're looking a little worse for wear—who wouldn't at 3am—but you're not really in the mood to try to fix yourself. Even if you did Harry would notice, and that felt like something you wanted to avoid. As you walk back to the landing, you wriggle your toes in your socks and happen to look back down the upstairs hallway. You've been in this house dozens of times before but this time feels different. It feels quiet and intimate somehow. Just as you're about to go down the first step, you see Harry's bedroom door is open on the opposite side of the stairs to the bathroom, and you notice something that makes you stop.

The book you got him for Christmas is sitting on his bedside table.

You're standing over it before you realise that your legs have started moving, looking at a picture of Anne, Gemma and Harry, a bottle of water and the book. You pick it up, the cover a little bent and the spine cracked to where he's read. Harry's using the birthday card you send along with the gift as a bookmark. The top of the familiar design sticking out the top of the pages, you can't even really remember what you wrote inside. Something generic probably. Platonic.

Happy birthday, old man! Have a wonderful day, sorry I can't be there in person. Love, Y/N.

The floorboard at the top of the stairs creaks and you turn around to Harry looking surprised to see you standing over his bed. He's got two cups of tea and a family-sized Dairy Milk bar under his arm. Something churns inside you, this was Harry as you'd always known him. Except now you looked at his lips and wondered why the hell you weren't kissing him.

"Oh, yeah, I've been reading that," Harry sees the book in your hands and walks towards you, "It's excellent, unsurprisingly."

A smile starts on your face, "You doubted my selection ability?"

"Never," he returns quickly and then raises his eyebrows at you, "Looking for anything else?"

You feel your cheeks heat and you drop the book back into its place, "No, sorry, I was coming down the stairs and saw … I'm sorry."

Harry passes you a tea, "It was really kind of you to send something over. Was fun having something to unwrap on the day."

"I'm glad," you smile and take a sip of the tea. It's sweet, and you screw up your face, "This is yours."

Harry watches you with a strange expression on his face as the two of you swap mugs. He's worrying his bottom lip, obviously weighing something up in his mind. You see it when he decides what he' going to do about it.

"I've got something I want to show you," he tells you finally, tilting his head back to the door. "Wanna come see?"

"What is it?" You ask automatically, but Harry's already walking out the door, and you have to hurry to catch up.

He leads you into his study, and you hover in the doorway as Harry sets his tea and the chocolate down on the desk. He pulls Bananagrams out of the draw and places it next to the mug.

"We're actually going to play Bananagrams?" You ask.

He looks back at you, "You'd prefer actual Scrabble?"

"I didn't know what you meant by—I guess I …"

Realisation dawns on his face, and he widens his eyes, "Oh, you thought it was a euphemism."

"No!" You snap back quickly, feeling the heat rising to your cheeks (for the record, yes, you thought 'a movie or Scrabble' was a thinly veiled way of Harry suggesting … something else), "No, I just … I just don't think I'll be able to spell words right now."

"I didn't think you were still tipsy" Harry states, shit-stirring.

"I'm not!" You squawk at him. "I'm… I' m—You kissed me!"

He grins, loving the fact he's driven you a little crazy, "Yeah. Want me to do it again?"

Harry's playing with you. He's teasing. And you know it but what you don't know is how he's so confidently jumped to it. Not when you feel like you've been left on the street outside the bar trying to figure out what the hell this means, and what's going to happen tomorrow when he stops looking at you like that. You don't like to think this whole night could've been him playing with you, you don't know Harry to be that cruel. But there's a tripwire in your mind you keep getting snared on.

It's Harry.

"C' mere," he reaches his hand down across the room between you both, "C' mere and kiss me again. You don't seem to be getting it."

"Getting it?" You're cut off by Harry taking two big steps toward you and then planting his lips on yours again.

His palms find your hips, and you hold him in the same spot. It takes a moment for the two of you to find a rhythm, and even then, you're too in your head. You're struggling to remember what little Harry's said about this whole thing. You know he said he had a crush on you and you've gotten the distinct impression he wasn't too fond of your ex. But for all you know Harry's been kissing his mates like this for years but just never gotten around to kissing you. You might've been next on the list. He's a friendly guy. Maybe a crush isn't what it used to be. Or maybe—

He pulls back from your lips with a huffy expression on his face, "Y/N," he says quietly, "I'm a man with an incredibly fragile ego, whatever you're worrying about is really getting in the way of kissing you."

"I'm just—

—Let me show you what I brought you in here for," he interrupts you, takes your hand and tugs you towards the window. Then, he puts a hand on each of your shoulders and directs your attention to the wall.

It's lined with record sale plaques for singles and albums over the years—double Platinums and Gold-Somethings. Harry watches you eyes run over them all, a proud but unsure look in your eye. You're not sure why he's showing them to you, he knows that. He hopes you're not intimidated by them, he's certainly not showing you to try to score any points. There's a sweeter gesture behind it. He points to one leaning against the wall, not hanging. He's got it resting on the bubble wrap it was sent over in.

Stepping up closer behind you, Harry rests his chin on your shoulder, "That one's for you."

"What?"

"I want you to have it, been saving it for you … If I ever got brave enough."

The question falls from your lips before you really think about it, "Why would you want me to have it …"

Harry waits to see if you'll let on you've figured it out, he thought it was pretty obvious really, but you've never been one to elevate yourself or assume, and Harry knows that about you. So, when you don't keep talking, he confirms it for you, "That song is about you."

You just blink, eyes on the framed plaque taking in the name of the song and hearing it in your head.

It's about me? You think you want to hear it, you need to Google the lyrics and make sure you have them right in your head. Harry wrote a song about you. Harry wrote that song about you.

"When … When did you write it?"

"You mean why?" Harry raises his head and steps to stand next to you, he observes your face carefully.

"No, I mean when." You're starring at it like the plaque might answer the question, "When did you write it?"

Harry runs a hand over his head as he thinks, "A few years back, after that time you came out to LA … Didn't record it until this year though …"

Harry watches your face expand in surprise and then crumple back down to confusion. You really don't get it. He's not sure how to make you in one night. He supposes he can't. So he trails his hand up the back of your arm and then around your back, tilting his head down and waiting to see if you'll pull away. When you don't, he kisses the corner of your mouth and then opens his wider to take you lips in his properly.

It's different to the kisses outside the bar, now that you're both out of your outer layers Harry can feel your body against his in ways he's only dreamed, and it's sending everything straight between his legs. Harry's hands explore your back and the curve of your hips, thumbs almost reaching the underside of your breasts but not quite. It's a little awkward when he senses you've felt him hardening between you. Usually, lust clouds that moment, and Harry doesn't mind intimate partners being acutely aware of how they're affecting him. But with you he's a little hesitant, he senses the awkwardness on your side. Friends don't feel those body parts on each other, friends don't… He almost groans when your mouth leaves his without warning.

You think he'll probably change his mind about all this.

"Have you changed your mind?" You ask, not able to stop it.

Confusion colours his features, and his lips smack together, like he's savouring tasting you, "Wha—

"About wanting to be kissing me," you clarify.

"What? No." Harry's eyebrows have shot up, and he's shaking his head, "I barely even started! Didn't I just say I wrote that song about you—why the hell would I—want to do more than just kiss you—You think I'm gonna change my mind?"

You shrug, "Maybe. I don't know."

"Well," he stands up straighter and pins you with his stare, "I'm not. I promise I'm not going to change my mind. And I promise I'll never make you feel like you're asking for too much. Ever."

"Now you're trying to make me cry," you say, hearing him repeat back to you the insecurity leftover from your conversation about your ex. You're half kidding with your words but also not. You believe him. You trust him.

Harry grimaces, sways your bodies together gently, "I really hate seeing you cry, could you not? I had other plans."

You sniff through a laugh as Harry wraps his arms around your middle tighter," What plans are those?"

"Well, I literally thought Scrabble," he tells you through a smile, trying his best to make you laugh, "But I'm open to whatever dirty things you were thinking as well."

"You'll win Scrabble."

So, Harry instructs you to bring your tea and your sore feet back into his bedroom. He gets you a fluffy pair of hiking socks and tells you to take yours off, and your tights, and get comfortable on the bed with him and the block of chocolate. You've polished off a family size together before, the sugar going straight to your heads and always leading to a giggly night of reminiscing and Almosts.

This time though, you only get halfway through the tea and Harry pushes the chocolate off the bed onto the floor in favour of you straddling his hips. It started with a stolen kiss against your temple, and then another on your cheek, and one close to your lips, and then you captured his face in your hands and really kissed him. Within a few moments, Harry was dragging you over to him. His hands settle on the swell of your backside as it sits against his thighs and your lips trace the line of his jaw. This was really happening. You'd really let him peel off your dress and flick off your bra. His shirt was somewhere with the forgotten snacks, and you seemed extremely eager to keep feeling his hardness pressed between your legs.

"I swear to god, I never dreamed this would happen," he murmurs, hissing when your hips pressed into his at a different angle, "Was sure I'd be going to your wedding one day, completely miserable and probably end up drunk and causing a scene. Embarrass you so badly you'd never want to see me again, and you'd just run away with your stupid husband."

You pull back and watch Harry ramble, your bare chest rising and falling against his, "You're a real glass half full kinda guy, aren't you?" you smile at him.

"I just," his eyes drop to your chest, nipples puckered for him, and he scrunches them shut then drops his forehead onto your sternum with a big sigh, "This is fucking unreal, and my brain is just struggling to comprehend—you're breathtaking, and I feel like my chest is gonna explode."

"It's also 4am, so there's always the potential your brain is just plain tired," your index finger is drawing circles on the back of his shoulder as Harry leans against you, you pause and run your hand over the back of his head, "Maybe we should sleep for a little … I'll be here when you wake up," you say in response to Harry squeezing his arms around your waist tightly as if you were going to disappear. Or worse, leave.

His indescribable green eyes find yours in the light from the bedroom lamps, "Will you let me hold you while you sleep?"

"Yeah," you nod, although somehow that question seems more intimate than the lack of clothes between you at the moment. You're distinctly less dressed than Harry, who's still got his trousers on, you're only covered by your underwear.

"We don't have to rush this, right? Got all the time in the world now," still, as he speaks his palms trail up your back and then down again, skimming the sides of your breasts, "Just don't wanna miss anything is all."

"I promise I'm incredibly boring in my sleep, won't miss anything," you tease, "Might be the only time you get any peace."

Harry tightens his forearms around your back and finds the soft skin below your ear with his lips—once, twice, three little kisses—"I feel pretty at peace right now, just having you here. Feels like I'm living a dream."

You don't reply for a moment, but you let your body rest against Harry's in a comfortable hug, your voice is quiet, "You really wrote me a song?"

"I did."

"I've always loved that song."

“Well, it's been yours all along."

"Nobody's ever written a song about me."

"I should hope not."

"Are you going to write another one?"

"Without a doubt."

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#OOOO SHIT what have i done #well #1dff #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles X reader #harry styles stories #harry styles imagines #harry fic

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