#thanks for sending this! in typical me style the answers got long
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12, 17, 18, 29 for the ask game! - @pigeonwit
Hi Pidge :)
12. How many WIPs do you have in your docs for next year?
I've had to be very careful about WIPs due to working on How It Will Be! So in terms of WIPs that actually have things written, there's HIWB (of course) and a Sprace meet cute one-shot inspired by this swing dance video I've seen floating around tumblr. I have documents with some planning notes, but I haven't actually started writing those, and some of them are Bachelorette AU tie-ins that I can't really write until HIWB is done. I still need to write my exchange and mini bang fics, but those don't have documents yet (😬)
17. Your favorite character to write this year?
Race! I've given him a lot of roles--a depressed, somewhat emotionally constipated professor (in a fic I ultimately hid on AO3 (I can dig up the tutorial on how to do that for anyone who wants it)); Jack's scheming best friend/roommate (Take the elephant by the hand); an offputting not-quite-human (Still Through the Leaves); and of course the over-the-top Bachelorette host. It's been cool to figure out how his personality traits manifest in each AU, and I am very excited to make him go through some stuff in the next couple chapters of HIWB.
Honorable mention to Crutchie, because while he cares a lot about his friends he is also a menace, which is always entertaining. In the Much Ado-niverse, he has a very specific way of talking (gratuitous fancy words, mostly) that I really enjoy writing, but given his different background/career choices/interests in HIWB I didn't think it made sense to carry that over.
18. The character that gave you the most trouble writing this year?
I don't know if it's trouble necessarily, but out of all the non-POV characters in HIWB, Albert has consistently had the most going on behind the scenes, as it were. But because he isn't a POV character, everything we know about him comes exclusively from dialogue and how the POV characters interpret his actions. Figuring out what he was thinking/feeling in the more emotionally charged scenes while also figuring out how much of that he'd want to reveal (and what characters figure out) was definitely an interesting process. I rewrote the scene in the Reykjavik chapter where he and Charlie first kissed at least 3-4 times because I was so worried about getting it right.
29. Favorite line/passage you wrote this year?
There are a lot of one-liners that I really like, and there's a scene early-ish in HIWB where Jack is being a bi disaster about Davey and Katherine that I think is fun, but my favorite has to be the opening of chapter 8 in the now-hidden fic I've referenced. Race is a trans guy in that AU, and he spends some time before he realizes that he's trans questioning his sexuality, and this scene is the aftermath of some of that pre-transition questioning going slightly sideways. Anyway, the scene is under the cut (Race is referred to with she/her due to the scene taking place pre-realization):
After Race broke up with her girlfriend, she went back to the half of a duplex that she shared with a couple perpetually absent medical students and shut herself in her room.
Dating Amelia had been–Not an experiment, Race reminded herself. You really thought you liked her. Amelia was also a PhD student, luckily in the robotics engineering department and therefore far enough removed from Race’s statistics program for them to have space post-breakup. They were friends, and Race had enjoyed spending time with her–except for the small problem that she’d eventually realized she wasn’t actually attracted to her.
Jack and David coming out senior year had turned out to be a catalyst for the rest of their friend group. Sarah had announced she was a lesbian part way through college, and Albert and Finch had both come out as gay and ended up in an on-and-off friends with benefits situation that Race tried to avoid knowing the details of. Charlie had said a couple years ago that he was still figuring things out, but between his friends, job, and disability rights activism, he thought he was probably too busy to date anyway. Even Spot and Katherine, who’d spent most of their lives struggling to fit the pictures their parents had of them, had come out to the general public via Facebook post on the same day in the fall. Which left Race, theoretically the token straight of the group, who was read as a lesbian even more now that she’d cut her hair short, donated the last dress and underwire bra in her closet, and wore as much L.L. Bean clothing as she could get her hands on.
She had thought that maybe she’d missed something along the way, that she really was secretly bisexual and had been in denial the whole time. She was sure she was interested in men–she’d had a few boyfriends in undergrad, and then there was the yearslong, semi-latent crush on–
No.
Race swallowed, staring vacantly at the collage of pictures she’d hung on her wall. There was her with Jack and Medda at her college graduation, her and Albert and David at a surprisingly quiet beach on the Cape, a picture of her undergrad dance troupe performing, and right in the middle, a picture of her sitting on a couch–she didn’t even remember where it was taken at this point–next to–
There was a chance that she just hadn’t found the right person in Amelia. But Race didn’t want to date another girl, knowing that she probably would just end up discovering she wasn’t attracted to them in the first place.
She and this theoretical girl deserved better.
#pidge!#asks#ask game#thanks for sending this! in typical me style the answers got long#whoops#anyway#bachelorette au
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Satellite: A Harry Styles Song Fic
By Ava Lentina
Image not mine
I owe everyone reading this an apology for all of the many delays, and I also owe you a thank you for reading it even after all of the delays. As always, Likes, Comments, and Reblogs are greatly appreciated.
I also have not decided whether to put together the inspiration post so y'all can see what i was looking at while creating this. Comment or Dm me your thoughts on that!
And Now, without further ado, I present to you the almost 28k word story, Satellite: A Harry Styles Song Fic.
Text Guide:
Red: Song Lines, all will be bolded text, most are bigger
Green: Harry Singing Matilda
Blue: Background/Stage Notes and Actions
Violet: Titles and Author Notes
Pink: Y/N Singing Matilda
"You Got A New Life"
You and your friends Lyla and Mia were celebrating your promotion at work by going to a Harry Styles pop-up concert (December 19, 2019), Lyla and Mia are the only co-workers of yours who know about your history with Harry. Having met on the road while you were writing a song for One Direction. Harry was writing the song with you. Everything About You was the most fun you ever had writing a song, and while writing it, you fell for Harry, big time. You hooked up a few times, the best of your life so far, even dated for a couple years (secretly of course), while you continued to write with One Direction. You thought he was your forever. But all good things end, and yours went up in flames when Zayn Malik left One Direction and though you tried to make things work with Harry, it all came to an end when you found out that he cheated on you with Taylor Swift in 2014. After that you left and pursued a degree in law. Now you're the youngest senior partner at the hottest firm in London, you specialize in entertainment law, but don't tie yourself to it. Lyla is a Senior Associate in your division and Mia is a Paralegal. The three of you often work on cases together. You dance your hearts out at the concert and during Watermelon Sugar(which Harry wrote after Anne told him about your new career, what, he misses you, you're his one that got away, not that he would admit that to you right away), Harry's soft green eyes lock onto your emerald blue green ones and a rush of longing courses through him. Immediately after the song, he jumps behind the makeshift stage and gives Jeff a brief description of you so he can send someone to you with an invitation for the after show party. He noticed you were with some friends, so he says they can come too before jumping back on stage into Adore You. When you receive the invite you immediately say no, but the invitation remains open and after a bit, Lyla and Mia manage to convince you to go, mostly because they want to go, but still, you deserve it. Harry closes the show with a throwback, one the two of you wrote shortly before things went south, Change Your Ticket.
"Rat bastard." You curse but find yourself singing along and doing the little hair toss thing that made Harry lose his shit every single time, and you looked him dead in the eyes tonight while doing it. Harry swore he wasn't going to be able to hide his stiffie from the crowd for much longer, so in typical Harry Styles fashion he body rolled with it, turning away from you, and finished the song. Before finishing himself off to thoughts of you in the makeshift dressing room and changing before heading into the main area of the club, and then quickly getting to the private room before he got mobbed by fans. Sarah and Mitch were already there and Mitch looked at Harry.
"So, who the fuck was that girl you screwed us all up for?" "Y/N." Harry answered simply. "And hopefully she'll be joining us here, and maybe if I'm lucky she'll be in my bed tonight." "That Y/N? The one you dated during 1D times, the one you wrote with?" Sarah chuckled. "Enough of that, be on your best behavior, both of you." When you, Lyla, and Mia get to the ropes leading to the private room, you give the guard your name and the three of you slip by. "What do you want, Harry?" You ask him, quite stubbornly. "Did she inspire Sweet Creature too?" Mitch asks and you notice Harry send a glare his way before going to hug you and then changing his mind at the last minute. "Just want to catch up with a friend." Harry insists but you and everyone else in the room know it's bullshit. "You, me, we're not friends, you cheated on me H, that's not the kind of person I call my friend, in fact that's the kind of person I like to refer to as an arrogant son of a bitch." "Speaking of friends, I'm Lyla, and this is Mia." Lyla introduces the two of them. "Nice to meet you ladies." Harry replied, still engaged in your tense staring match. You smirk and Harry blinks. "Fuck." Harry curses and you actually smile.
You try to keep your distance from Harry for the rest of the night, however once the shots start coming you allow yourself to indulge, which leads to a drunken conversation between you and Harry. "I've already apologized like a gazillion times Y/N." Harry whined. "And at least it was Taylor, hell I probably would've slept with her too." You answer and the two of you actually laugh. You end up drunkenly exchanging numbers just before you leave. It was kind of nice to talk to him again. But you know better than to forgive him, although he insists on having his driver take the three of you home. He definitely wasn't using it to get your address.
"Am I Bothering You"
It was a little over a week after the pop up where you saw Harry again in person for the first time since your breakup. You just got off the tube right around the corner from the building your flat is in. It's 2:30 AM and you're tired and still unsatisfied, having had another hookup where he came before you without even trying to finish you off. Removing your dress, blazer, and heels, your mind suddenly goes to how Harry always made you come at least twice before allowing himself to, unless of course you were on your knees giving him a blowie. You finger yourself in the shower, imagining it's Harry's fingers inside you, and it doesn't take long for you to send yourself spiraling into the most intense orgasm you've had since Harry, and quite frankly, it kind of pisses you off.
The next night, you, Mia, and Lyla were in your favorite pub, Lyla just left with her boyfriend, and Mia ditched you for a hot girl at the bar. You're about to leave (mostly sober, but not completely) when a drunk ass guy squeezes your ass on your way out and catches your wrist before you can leave. It's not your first time dealing with a drunk asshole and you're about to tell him to expect a court summons when another idiot in a beanie pulls him off of you and escorts you out. You look at the guy and there is no mistaking him. Harry.
"Bloody fucks, seriously H, I had that handled, I'm not some damsel in distress, I'm one of the best lawyers in the city, and I know Krav Maga." You go off on him. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have a date with my vibrator. Fuck, I shouldn't have said that to you." You turn and start walking to your flat but don't get far before Harry catches up to you. "Need any help?" He asks you with a smirk. "Not from the real you, now quit bothering me and let me go home." "What do you mean the real me? And since when am I bothering you?" "You're trying to get into my pants again and it's not going to happen now or ever, now please, let me walk home in peace." Harry shuts up and just silently walks next to you, making no flirtatious move whatsoever. Which actually surprises you. When you get to your building Harry walks you up and turns to leave after dropping you off at your door. Yeah, nope, that's not happening. "Har," you sigh. "Yeah Y/NN(your nickname only Harry called you)?" "Thanks for walking me home." You say and kiss his cheek before gripping his jacket and tugging him into your flat, kissing him desperately. "Fuck, I…" you try to apologize, but are cut off by Harry pinning you to the door and claiming your mouth in another searing kiss. You throw caution to the wind and allow yourself to get consumed by the man in front of you. "Now where's this vibrator of yours?" Harry asks after breaking the kiss. "Please can I make you feel good." He asks after your expression turns to one of slight shock. "You're the only one that actually can make me feel good. The rest of them just come too soon." "Don't ever mention another guy in a sexual context when I'm with you. Or I will not be held accountable for my actions." Harry growls. "I forgot how jealous you can get, it's hot." "Now, Do You Wanna Talk?, or do you want me to make you come?" "Make me come, please make me come." "And how would you like me to do that?" "I haven't been eaten out since the last time you did it H." "But, that was literally an almost instant orgasm from you. None of your boyfriends since have eaten you out?" "Harry, I haven't dated, I don't have time to date. My career is my life. I love a good fuck, but there just that, fucks. And I could never come without the foreplay." I say, the tears building at finally saying this to Harry. "WOAH! Are you telling me that you haven't had an orgasm in 5 years?" Harry asks. "Hell no, I've just given all of them to myself." "Sounds like something I should spend a lot of time fixing." Harry says before picking you up and asking you, "which way to the bedroom?" "Down the hall, last door on the left." You say, giggling like a fucking five year old. After a wonderful romp between the sheets, you and H are both spent, he gave you three earth shattering orgasms, ate you out, fucked you, and then he ate you out again.
"Hey, so I don't want to make any assumptions, but I want you to know that I miss you. I've always missed you, I dated, I did hook-ups, but every relationship, you were what was missing. 5 years ago, I was a fucked up teenager. Now I'm a fucked up adult who is thinking about a future beyond music. And I want that future to be with you. I know you're not ready to forgive me and that's ok, but I'd like to take you on a date, and by that I mean have you come over to my place, I'll cook, and I will listen, I just want you to see me for the me I am now." H says to you. "After that speech and the mind blowing sex prior to said speech, how could I say no? "Umm, you can't?" Harry responds with a shy grin. Which you kiss.
"We Share The Last Line"
You and Harry are talking all the time, and when you're not talking, you're texting, sometimes sexting because why the fuck not? You had dinner at his house two weeks ago, and he made vegetable Lasagna with homemade garlic bread. The two of you talked for hours and you felt free when you left, and also maybe ready to give Harry a second chance. Today, you're making your relationship office official. At least to Lyla, Mia, and the rest of the entertainment law division. On paper, he's coming in as a prospective client, but actually he's coming to see you, and bringing you fish and chips from your favorite spot. Though with him branching further into songwriting for other people, he wants to have a team in place should anything happen. After a morning spent in the law library doing research prep for a different case, you're returning to your office when some of the interns start freaking out because Harry Styles is in the lobby on his way up. You smile to yourself and wait for him by the elevators. When he steps out of the elevators, the girls can't quit ogling him. "Shall we head into my office?" You ask Harry, voice dripping with professionalism. "The team I've assembled for you is already waiting." "Absolutely, lead the way love." He replies packing some extra charm, and you smile lightly at the duplicity of the term. Oh and blush because he is definitely eyeing you all over right now. Your aquamarine silk tank top with a gold bar keyhole and the way it's tucked into the gold belt and black skirt. He's rather happy the black and gold crop style blazer you put on with it all this morning is currently nowhere to be found. His eyes continue to trace all the way down to the golden gladiator heels you're wearing. Everything at the meeting goes swimmingly and you end up leaving with Harry because he insists on staying until you're done with your work saying, "I have a surprise for you." So when you get to his house, he leads you to the basement, stealing a few kisses on the way. "Holy shit Harry!" You say when he walks you into his home studio. "You still write?" He asks you. That night the two of you wrote a song together for old times sake, and unbeknownst to you, Harry had big plans for that song. A few days later during movie night, Harry turned to you, "Be my date to the Brits?" "Would if I could H, but I'm going with the firm execs." "Then, just match with me?" "You're not going to stop until I agree to be connected to you in some way are you?" "You know me so well." "Fine, we can coordinate outfits, but nothing extravagant. And no Gucci." "M'fraid it's a bit too late for that one." "I'm not wearing Gucci, you can wear Gucci." "What's wrong with Gucci?" "Nothing, I just prefer a good Alexander McQueen."
At the BRITS you arrive with the firm execs shortly after Harry. He's being interviewed when you step out of the car. He catches a quick glance of you and just smiles. You pose for a few pictures all while Harry is still being interviewed. As you pass him on the red carpet, you intentionally brush your fingers together, and yes, there's photos of it. But you had already planned that, just like you shuffled the execs and yourself to the same table as Harry inside. He squeezed your hand just before leaving to go change for his performance. You smile seeing him in his element, and he looks straight at you during the entire performance. Yeah, that's when you realize the words behind the song. Tears prick at your eyes and they become too much to hold back completely so you let a few of them escape. "Missed you so much." He whispers to you upon his return. "Missed you too, I'll always want you around H." You reply. "Can't believe you made me cry in front of the other execs." "Yeah, M'not sorry about that." He replies and you smile at each other. "Umm, Y/N," one of the other partners says. "See you on Monday." They say as things wrap up. "We have an after-party to go to." Harry says to them and excuses you both. The two of you enjoy the hell out of the after-party before making your way back to your flat because it's closer and Harry is being extra handsy, not that you mind, you love it. "I was so ready to have to find an excuse to fuck you after that performance." You say as you straddle him on your bed. "Promise me that if you ever feel that shitty again, you call me, I will come running, I'll always need you around H." "Promise. I love you." H replied. It took him a second to realize what he said as your body went still. "Tell me I didn't just fuck this up." It takes you a second to snap yourself out of your head. "Never H. I love you too. I've waited years for you to say that to me again and it's everything. Need you H. Now and forever."
"Then we drink the wall"
As Fine Line continues to perform amazingly well, Harry FaceTimes you from different cities during the drinking parties. He always has an extra shot next to his waiting for you.
He just got back to London when COVID hit and the two of you quarantined together. Writing, loving on each other, Harry trying to interrupt your zoom meetings with clients because you either aren't wearing pants, or you've stolen a pair of his. Thankfully, the entertainment industry can't function too much when there's a global pandemic so your department is relatively quiet. You're wrapping up for a day when you hear Harry come home. He left that morning mumbling something about being out of avocados, and ended up being gone for over four hours. "H? Where else did you go? It doesn't take four hours to go get groceries." You laugh, making your way down the stairs. "I had to pick up a couple packages I ordered." He replies and then you hear it.
YIP! YIPP! WOOF!
"No, shhhh, don't tell momma you're here yet, it's a surprise." "H, we talked about getting a puppy, not 2 puppies." "Yep, we have A big puppy and A small puppy." He says with the biggest smile ever. "What are their names?" "Don't have names yet." The little Tricolor Cavalier comes over to you. "Maybe you should be Avocado since your dad was supposedly getting avocados." "And you," you say, petting the standard goldendoodle. "You look like a Palmer to me." You named him after your favorite tea. "Avocado and Palmer? Those what we're going with?" "Absolutely." You reply, admiring the love you're currently surrounded by. "Y/NN?" "Yes H?" "Move in with us, like officially." "Well, I mean, most of my stuff is here already, but H, are you sure?" "So sure." "Ok, I'd love to call you home." "Cheeseball." "Nope, you're the cheeseball. I'm just what makes you a cheeseball." "Mmhmm." H kisses you as the two of you sit on the floor with your new puppies. But one of them isn't too happy with the two of you kissing. "Fuckin Avocado." H curses as the cavalier paws at your faces to get you two to stop. "C'mere little Cado." You say and love on the little pup. You and Harry finish moving your stuff into his house over the next month. And H throws a little dinner party when everything's done. Anne, Gemma, Mitch, Sarah, Lyla, and Mia come over.
"Y/N!" Gemma says squeezing you tight. "I always told him he was an idiot for letting you go." "What's meant to be," you reply and Gem finishes it. "Is simply meant to be." "Now you listen here Harry Edward Styles, don't fuck it all up this time." Anne scolds Harry while you and Gem laugh. "Don't worry Anne, I'll just drown him in legal stuff if he does." You say, hugging her. You always did love Harry's mum and sister, mostly because you were never close with your family. The only reason they spoke to you anymore, was if you screwed up something else for them. Something you shut down very quickly by getting a no contact order.
"Til we wanna talk."
During the dinner party, after everyone has already arrived, the doorbell rings and you go to get it. It's your parents. "What the hell do you want? And why the hell are you here? You do understand this is a violation of the no contact order, yes?" "We're just here to give you a housewarming gift and then we'll leave. We are happy for you and Harry though." My mum says, my dad just glares at me. But I suppose that's what happens when you run away from home to be your own person rather than end up pumping out babies for an old, ugly Viscount. "Thank you mum. I'm sorry to have bothered the two of you." "Hey, … oh, Mr. and Mrs. Y/L/N (Your last name) glad you could make it, would you like to come in?" "That's Baron and Baroness Y/L/N to you." My father said to Harry. "Wait, Y/N, you never told me you had a title?" "We'll be going now, we just wanted to wish both of you the best." My mum says and she and my dad leave. "H, I didn't tell you because I don't have a title anymore. I renounced my claim the second I was legally able to. They wanted to turn me into a trophy for some Viscount and I said no, they didn't like that, so I ran. And then I started writing, which led to meeting you and I've never looked back since." "Can we please forget they ever stopped and just go back to our guests?" I practically beg. "Course we can, come on." H answered and laced his fingers through yours. The rest of the night went smoothly and you were just happy to be surrounded by people who love and care about you.
"What can I do?" H whispered into your ear as the two of you laid together in the big comfy bed. "You can start by being your normal cuddly self, and then you can do me a huge favor and not turn us being together into something labeled. And don't be mad when I tell you that I don't think I want to get married, like ever." "I don't think I could ever be mad at you, and there are so many ways to be together without ever getting married, which actually wasn't even on my radar at this point. As long as we're happy how we are, why screw with things?" "I love you H." "Love you too."
"I go round and round"
You and Harry had been living happily in your relationship for 2 years now. Harry's fans weren't necessarily the happiest at first, but once they actually traced things back to 1D, they started to come around. Now, you still get some hate, but it honestly doesn't bother you. Harry just dropped his new single from his upcoming album. Remember that song the two of you wrote in his home studio that first night he showed it to you? As It Was, and it's been huge. But another song on that upcoming album means more to you than anything else, because Harry is holding onto an alternate version of it. You were playing around in the basement studio, re-listening to Matilda (which happens to be your middle name) which talked about your struggles with your family. When you started singing along with the choruses changing, you to I.
I can let it go
I can throw a party full of everyone I know
And not invite my family cause they never showed me love
I don't have to be sorry for leaving and growing up
---
I can let it go
I can throw a party full of everyone I know
And not invite my family cause they never showed me love
I don't have to be sorry for leaving and growing up
I can see the world, following the seasons
Everywhere I go, I don't need a reason
Cause they never showed me love
I don't have to be sorry for doing it on my own
---
I don't have to go home
---
I can let it go
I can throw a party full of everyone I know
I can start a family who will always show me love
I don't have to be sorry for doing it on my own
I can let it go
I can throw a party full of everyone I know
I can start a family who will always show me love, I don't have to be sorry, no
It was in your soft, sweet, shy, soprano tone and you had only done the first one when Harry got the idea to have you do all of them and actually record it. Laying it back over, you had to admit it sounded really good. Harry wanted to put it on the album instead of the original, but you weren't ready for that so you told him he could release it as a mix or an edit down the road a bit.
"Satellite"
“Are you sure you don’t wanna come to Coachella with me?” Harry asks you, batting his long eyelashes again, and then tossing in the sad puppy dog eyes. “Wish I could H. but I’m buried in depositions.” You answer and give him one last hug and kiss before he leaves for the airport. After he’s gone you smile to yourself. “Yeah, he’s gonna love this.” You're surprising H at Coachella. You've never been, but have always wanted to go. Jeff is the only one who knows you're going to be there. And you have quite a plan for Harry during the show. You know that little earbud he always has in? Oh yes, you were in his ear for the entire show, while also watching it from the cameras backstage. Teasing him about how fucking amazing his ass looked in those pink pants. (You were totally hiding those and never giving them back, they would be yours after this show, the hell with it, you were taking the entire fucking outfit!) Harry would've called you out for it, if he wasn't preoccupied singing. But he did miss a few lyrics here and there, especially when you mentioned how sweaty he was getting and then commented on licking the entire butterfly tattoo. And the tiger. And the laurels. And literally every other tattoo on his sexy as fucks body. At this point, Harry knows your backstage. And he knows how riled up you get during Carolina. So he goes extra on all of it. When you practically moan into it, he's about had enough, but he's only a quarter of the way done with his set. You decide to be nice for a few songs, a little "make me shine for you" during lights up, and then radio silence, just to throw him off. It's also so they can prep you for your moment. They have you walk out and down the stairs during the na's while singing them, your mic turned up just a bit so Harry turns. His reaction to you walking out, priceless! He squats down and bows his head for a second before looking back up at you. He also loses his ability to sing for a few seconds, you have succeeded, Harry Styles is finally speechless.. You hip bump Lizzo when you reach the bottom and do the hair toss that Harry likes. He kisses you soundly, all hyped from the energy, and the three of you finish the song. “SHIT! FUCK! Like obviously I knew you were here, but WOW!, DAMN I love you.” He says to literally all of Coachella. “Hey, H, you know that little thing from Harry’s House that I was anxious about and making you hold onto?” You say in the mic, and Harry just looks at you, he knows what you’re talking about of course, but doesn’t quite know why you’re bringing it up now. “If you’re talking about what I think you’re talking about, then yeah, I know it, what about it?” He replies and you smile cheekily. “Should we do it?” You say and Harry’s band (who has been clued in to this part) starts it up. You’re standing right next to Harry, he covers his mic for a sec, and you do the same.” “Are you sure you’re ready for this? Because it’s Coachella, it will blow up.” He asks you, concerned about making sure you’re comfortable with this. “I wouldn’t suggest it if I wasn’t H.” You reply and squeeze his hand. The song kicks into the real intro, and you’re still holding Harry’s hand, praying and hoping he won’t let go.
You were riding your bike to the sound of "It's No Big Deal"
And you're trying to lift off the ground on those old two wheels
Nothing about the way that you were treated ever seemed especially alarming 'til now
So you tie up your hair and you smile like it's no big deal
You can let it go
I can let it go
You can throw a party full of everyone you know
I can throw a party full of everyone I know
And not invite your family, 'cause they never showed you love
Not invite my family, ‘cause they never showed me love
You don't have to be sorry for leaving and growing up, mmh
I don’t have to be sorry for leaving and growing up, mmh
You let go of H’s hand and slowly start walking back up the steps, pausing halfway during “a piece of me’s dead inside”. When Harry sees where you’re going he understands immediately, and starts following you, but on the opposite staircase.
Matilda, you talk of the pain like it's all alright
But I know that you feel like a piece of you's dead inside
A piece of me’s dead inside
You showed me a power that is strong enough to bring sun to the darkest days
It's none of my business, but it's just been on my mind
The two of you meet again at the top and during “it’s just been on my mind” you spin slowly under Harry’s arm.
You can let it go
I can let it go
You can throw a party full of everyone you know
I can throw a party full of everyone I know
And not invite your family, 'cause they never showed you love
Not invite my family, ‘cause they never showed me love
You don't have to be sorry for leaving and growing up
I don’t have to be sorry for leaving and growing up
You and Harry sit perched on the edge, your feet swinging side to side as you go into the second half of that chorus and the following verse
You can see the world, following the seasons
I can see the world, following the seasons
Anywhere you go, you don't need a reason
Anywhere I go, I don’t need a reason
'Cause they never showed you love
��Cause they never showed me love
You don't have to be sorry for doing it on your own
I don’t have to be sorry for doing it on my own
You're just in time, make your tea and your toast
You framed all your posters and dyed your clothes, ooh
You don't have to go
You don't have to go home
I don’t have to go home
Oh, there's a long way to go
Oh, there’s a long way to go
I don't believe that time will change your mind
I don’t believe that time will change my mind
In other words
I know they won't hurt you anymore as long as you can let them go
The two of you stand up slowly, brushing your fingers together again before returning down the opposite staircases, singing as you go.
You can let it go
I can let it go
You can throw a party full of everyone you know
I can throw a party full of everyone I know
You can start a family who will always show you love
I can start a family who will always show me love
You don't have to be sorry for doing it on your own
I don’t have to be sorry for doing it on my own
You can let it go
I can let it go
You can throw a party full of everyone you know
I can throw a party full of everyone I know
You can start a family who will always show you love
I can start a family who will always show me love
You don't have to be sorry, no
I don’t have to be sorry, no
During the last line, as you sang “I don’t have to be sorry, no”. You held your palm up to Harry’s and slowly leaned your foreheads together.
At the extended closing chords Harry kissed you again, slower this time, and whispered, “That was everything. You are my everything.” The audience cheered so loud, you thought you might end up deaf. After another quick peck, Harry turned to the crowd. “Y/N Y/L/N, everyone!” He hollers, the crowd screams. “Now, a little secret,” he pretends to whisper. “She actually inspired some of my best work on my previous two albums, and co-wrote most of Harry’s House with me, including this next song.” H says and the band starts to lead into ‘Late Night Talking’. “I’ll be waiting and watching in your dressing room H.” you say after shutting off your mic. You blow him a kiss and head back to your spot backstage. While Harry pauses for a drink during Watermelon Sugar, you just can't help yourself. "I'm waiting for my high H" you tease, and he almost spits out his water. He's got his huge grin on his face the entire song and during Kiwi you say nope the first time he sings "I'm having your baby" and each time after you very very slowly hint that someday you'll have a family, but also warn him not to get any ideas. He's laughing internally, the entire time. You watch sign of the times from his dressing room and add in the new lingerie (the top looks like cherries and the crotchless panties look like a strawberry. You had way too much fun picking these out. But you know he will love them.
"Spinning out, waiting for ya to pull me in"
You're just lounging casually as you wait for Harry to return to his dressing room after his set, scrolling through all the comments about his duet style performance with you, but mostly they’re about his ass, you can’t blame them, but your soaking wet cunt is starting to get a bit jealous and just begging for his attention. You're quite literally dripping onto the seat just from all the pictures. You hear him outside the door and lock your phone, tossing it aside before fixing the slit on your green skirt in the same style as the pink one you had on, on stage, but swapped into after so you were wearing watermelon colors. Finishing your task just as H walks in and sees your bare cunt on display. "HOLY! JESUS FUCKING CHRIST Y/N!" He quickly shuts and locks the door praying that no one out there got a glimpse of your naked pussy. "No, not allowed, you keep that nice and covered in public unless I say otherwise." Harry tsks at you. "This…" you begin, gesturing to your soaked folds before standing up so you can wrap yourself around Harry. You land a nice smack to the H & S on his ass cheeks. "Is all from watching that ass of yours throughout the night. And now it's all over the Internet. And I can't help it, I'm so fucking turned-on, and worked up, and jealous now that pictures of your ass are trending on Twitter. Like I'm stealing and keeping the entire outfit. You're not washing it, and you are most certainly never wearing it again. It's mine now. That's how fucking jealous I am. I've resorted to being petty and you know how much I hate being petty." "You're so fucking sexy when you're jealous baby." Harry pants and then slides your skirt off. "And they say I'm the master of fruits. You look fucking delectable doll. Turning your pretty pussy into a plump juicy strawberry. Much more and I'm going to end up nutting in my pants." "Then don't take my top off yet H, want you to come inside me."
"FUCK! Doll, you can't just say things like that so casually. "And what's under the top? Or is it nothing?" "All I'll say is that you haven't seen it before." Harry's eyes darken instantly, and you get to work relieving him of his pants and vest. "FUCK!" You can't help but moan once Harry attaches his mouth to your cunt. He gives your left thigh a warning smack but you're too far gone to care. "HARRY!" you scream as your orgasm consumes you. Harry puts a hand over your mouth to muffle you, but the damage has already been done. You're pretty sure everyone and their mother backstage heard that, when the thought crosses your mind, your orgasm gives one last gush and Harry can't help but smile. He knows you're turned on at the possibility of getting caught. "You like that, huh?" H groans out and you moan into his hand. "Want everyone at Coachella to know how good I fuck you?" "Want them to know I'm off limits?" "Want them to post all about how I'm fucking you, wishing they were you." You can't help but nod and moan even more. Just thinking about how many people want Harry and the fact that he chose you gives you such a power trip. The sparkling love in his eyes as he fucks you so good sends you tipping in no time. Harry follows you immediately over the edge. “Shit. Best Show Ever!” He pants, still catching his breath. You move to straddle him and kiss him silly, but quickly realize you’re still turned on when you can’t help but grind against his softening cock. You quickly yank your top off and when Harry sees the cherry lingerie top, his erection is coming back, and fast, which of course only serves to turn you on further. “M’ DEAD! I have to be dead if I just put on that long of a show, fucked you, and already want to go again. S’ the only explanation. “And I am quite sure that if you were dead, this…” You say, sliding your hand over his cock, “this wouldn’t be functioning, and I am so glad that it is, want it H, need it, need it so bad.” You answer and H just chuckles. “You’re a greedy little cockslut you know that right?” “Yep, don’t care, need it, starved, been too fucking long. ‘Sides, I’m your cockslut, and you are anything but little.” You add that last part with a giggle that makes you feel like a teenager. “FUCK! Hop on, fucking fucks you look so good riding my cock Y/NN.”
“I Can See You’re Lonely Down There”
You wake up the next morning to sweet, lazy kisses that trail down your jaw, to your neck, over your shoulders, and all the way down your arms. When Harry reaches your fingers, he sucks on each one making a very exaggerated pop after each. “No, H, M' Sleepy!” You groan. “Do you want to stay and sleep, or do you want to actually go enjoy a day at Coachella?’ He asks you. “Sleep first, then Coachella.” “Nope, it’s an either or situation today, cause if that cute butt of yours doesn’t get out of bed, then I am going to spend all day edging you, just because I can.” “Mmm,” you groan again and slowly blink your eyes open. “Now i’m tired, grumpy, and fucking soaking wet.” You add, sitting up slowly. “Just the way I like you. Now time for a shower, then breakfast, and we’ll be off.” H says, kissing your nose before scooping you up to carry you to the shower. It only takes the two of you a few hours, but you do eventually get cleaned up, and changed into something fit for roaming Coachella, Harry disguised himself in a gray TPWK hoodie and black shorts with his very very worn white gazelles. Added a red bandana and shades as an extra measure. You’re in a pastel rainbow halter crop top, light wash denim shorts, white boots, and your favorite pair of aviators. As the two of you walk around Coachella with Harry’s Bodyguard staying relatively close to you. You do get some glances, some fans of Harry’s that definitely recognize him, but only a few of them actually try to approach. The two of you stay all day. Literally ALL DAY! Billie performs and Harry sneaks you backstage to meet her. He “Left his bunny ears behind last night.” You laugh when it works, but then again, he does just have that charm. He can smooth talk his way into getting whatever he wants. It’s how he got you under his spell way back when, after all.
“So, are we going straight home, or having a layover in NYC for a bit?” H asks you the next morning as your packing up to leave. “You should go to NYC, I know you want to see a few people. I have to get back though, Depositions remember?” “M’ not sure if I can believe you on that one.” H teases you and you swat at him, not actually hitting him. You would’ve, but he caught your arm and pulled you flush against him. You can feel him stiffening between you and it honestly makes you blush at how turned on he can get from the simplest of things.
“Five days. Five days in NYC with me, and then you can do your depositions. Sides’ need you there with me. Always need you with me.” “I can give you three. Any more than that and the execs won’t be happy with me. You are so lucky I’m good at my job.” You answer and H tickles your sides at your last comment. “I like to think that I’m lucky you’re so good, period. You’re good at your job, you’re good with me, you’re a good momma to our fur babies, and don’t get me started on how good you feel and taste.” “H!” You squeal and smack him playfully. Of course, those three days in his NYC apartment were fantastic. So fantastic, that you let him talk you into staying for an entire extra week. You spent the mornings working with your team, and your afternoons and evenings with H. On your second to last morning, H woke up earlier than he usually does. You were absorbed in your research. He had to be very stealthy, which was not his forte, especially in the mornings. But somehow he managed to sneak up behind you and wrap you in his arms. "Mmm, what's got you up this early today?" You asked H. "Lonely." "My poor boy needed more snuggles, didn't he?" "Mmhmm, need more snuggles now." "How about you make yourself some breakfast, go for a walk, and then by the time you get back, I should be done with a solid chunk of these files and we can have movie snuggles." "No, want snuggles now." "Ok. On the couch, but I have to work too." H shrugged, as if to indicate that you working during snuggles was an acceptable compromise. He obviously doesn't understand how much of a distraction he is. Those damned sleepy curls begging to have your fingers running through them, him practically curled up and purring in your lap. You were just flipping pages, nothing was sticking. Which is the exact opposite of what you needed to happen. So you set it all aside. Turned on the TV, and started rewatching NCIS: Los Angeles for the millionth time. You eventually gave in to the lull of sleep as well and when you woke back up, Harry was between your legs. Pressing sweet kisses to the insides of your thighs. "Good Morning again." "Mmm, what time is it?" "2 in the afternoon." "And just how long have you been awake?" "Not long, probably 10 or so minutes." "And are you hungry yet?" "No, just wanna be inside you and have movie snuggles." "Not until after you eat something, you skipped dinner last night too." You say to him, a little worried that he doesn't seem to want to eat. "I did too eat last night." He replies with his mischievous smile. "Yeah, I'm not a meal H and you know that." "I'd say you're the most delicious meal in the entire world, love." "Let's take a walk to Il Mattone, get all our Italian favorites and then have a lazy finish to the entire trip." "Mmkay."
On your way to JFK the next morning, H insisted on stopping at Tomoko's for pastries. Something you weren't about to argue with. So with your stuff packed, an unhealthy amount of sweets, and your morning caffeine fix, you hopped onto the Dassault Falcon 7x Harry chartered for his Coachella trip and then extended for your NYC visit. He's been talking about buying one so the two of you can go wherever you want, whenever you want. "So Italy every other weekend instead of every other month?" You tease him. "Or I can have someone pick you up and put you on the plane to bring you to wherever my show is that night." He teases back as the two of you settle in. "Luckily as a Senior Partner, I have more room for flexibility in my schedule."
"Don't you know that I am right here"
Upon your return to London, you were shocked to find a handwritten, hand-delivered letter from your mother.
Darling,
I wanted you to hear it from me first, your father is no longer with us. Which is why I am finally free to send this letter. I hope you know how much I truly love you, how much I hated to have to be complicit in his horrid plans for you. I am so very happy with who you grew to be, the woman you are today. I love you my daughter, and I hope to be a part of your life again someday, until then know that my love for you could never fade.
-Mother
"Oh shit." You say aloud after reading it. "What? What happened?" H asked, mildly concerned. "My father, he's dead, and my mother wants to see me and try to fix our relationship." You reply. H wraps you in a hug. Both of you unsure of how to feel. You're relieved in a way, but also he was your father. And when it comes to your mother, well, she was never as adamant about you embarrassing the family the way your father was. But she also never spoke out against him. "What should I do H?" You ask him, without breaking the hug. "I can't decide that for you love, you have to make that decision yourself." He answers quietly, desperately wishing he had a better answer for you. "Gut feeling?" "My gut feeling is that it's not up to me, it's up to you, if you want to see your mum you should, but it's also totally ok if you're not ready to face that."
You break away from the hug slowly, just so you can look at his face. "That is a very diplomatic, lawyer type answer and I don't like it. So help me, please H, I just need help processing it all." "You know I love you, and that I support you no matter what, but this isn't a decision I can make for you, I don't want to put ideas in your head and have them backfire. I can't let my dumb ideas be the reason I lose you again." "Ok. Let's just go to bed then, maybe sleeping on it will give me some clarity." You say and start towards your shared bedroom, Cado right on your heels. After you're out of earshot, Harry looks at Palmer who is sitting by his feet waiting to be spoiled. "What? Don't look at me like that you. I'm on her side, I just don't know how to help her, I can't jeopardize us again, I just want her to know that I'll be right here, no matter what she decides." When H finally gets upstairs after exercising Palmer for the night so he actually sleeps, you're already tucked in bed, curled up with Cado, and facing away from him. Usually you wait and watch for him to lay beside you, and start giving you millions of bedtime kisses. Tonight he heads straight for a shower. When he does slip into bed he quickly kisses the back of your head, just reminding you that he's still here. You fight the urge to make him cuddle you and settle for the fingers gently playing with your hair. Palmer settles in between the two of you since this way he can get more attention, his head is nudging into your back and you find yourself quickly succumbing to the call of sleep.
"Spinning Out Waiting For Ya to Pull Me In"
"Morning love." Harry says, his eyes still closed, reaching for you but when he feels an empty bed, everything from last night comes crashing back to him at full speed. He finds you in the garden sipping on a tea while the pups run around. Rather than bother you while you're deep in thought he gets started on breakfast bowls for you both. When he brings it out to you along with a cup of tea for him and a new cup for you, you look at him. "I'm going to meet my mum for lunch today." You tell him. "Do you want me there?" He asks. "Just for moral support, I can keep my mouth shut." You laugh knowing full well he sucks at keeping his mouth shut, especially when he has an opinion on something. "Not today, but if it goes well, I was thinking the three of us could do dinner here next week. Something Italian since we both love it and we always make it together." "Pasta and bread from scratch then?" He asks with a small smirk. "Is there any other way with us?" You answer and reach for his hand. "We'll be alright H, and I'm sorry for pushing you last night and then pushing you away. It's, ugh, why can't I ever say what I want to around you." You apologize, but lose your train of thought as soon as a small smile appears on H's face. "Love you." He says. "Love you too, sunshine boy." "Sunshine boy, that's a new one from you." "Stop being romantic and making me melt and then I might be able to come up with a good one." "Never." After a quick yet thorough round of makeup sex, you shower and change into something fitting for a luncheon with your mum. You decide on a pastel pink midi length pencil dress, with floral-like embroidery. Accenting the dress with a simple pearl necklace and matching bracelet, leafed silver headband, and strappy gold heels. You added a few waves to your hair, not wanting it curled but also not straight, you loved the way it made the natural highlights in your hair shine through and add that extra little bit of pop to your hair. You kept it simple on your makeup, just enough to complement without stealing the show. When you looked at yourself in the mirror you looked understated, elegant, and very peerage.
"Wow." Is all H was able to say when you were done. "Don't even think about it H." You replied, watching him eye you like a predatory animal. "After?" "Maybe." It was no secret that your sexual appetites for each other were practically limitless. But this time you were in a time crunch and were not about to risk meeting your mum, looking like you just had sex. H could wait a few more hours.
When you got to the Country Club you were meeting your mum at, she was already there waiting for you in a black skirt suit, the skirt has a tiny silver slit and the ¾ sleeve jacket features silver pocket liners and gold buttons, with a silver tank blouse under the jacket and a small black fascinator and veil to indicate her mourning. "Y/N, my beautiful daughter." Your mother says to you as you arrive at the table. "Hi Mother," you reply. "I'm sorry about Father." Your mother waves off the second part knowing you and your father rarely saw eye to eye. "My darling, I never wanted that for you, and after we had you your father slowly started to become more distant, especially after we were told that you would be our only child. As it turns out, he was having multiple affairs, trying to secure his male heir, but after years of trying and failing your father resorted to the old ways of increasing a family's power by way of a match, an arranged marriage where you end up being a trophy, the day you ran, I was originally planning to take you and return to my family's estate, allow him time to come to his senses. And shortly after you renounced your claim, your father managed to sire another child. Your half-brother, Fitzwilliam." "Wait, I have a sibling?" "Yes dear, he is but 12, only a boy, and your father was never much involved in raising him outside ensuring his education. But he did 'legitimize' him so to speak, he knows a bit about you, and I am hoping that you aren't totally closed off from the idea." "What idea?" "You, building a relationship with your half-brother, he needs it, he’s not the social butterfly you are, would much rather isolate himself than be around people, I’m thinking you might be able to help him out of his shell."
"Actually, my plan was to see how well this went and then hopefully invite you to Harry and I's place for a homemade Italian meal, perhaps Fitzwilliam and his mother could join us as well, as long as you and she are on good terms of course. And nobody is allergic to dogs, H and I have 2." "Yes, Avocado and Palmer right?" Your mother replies and you're momentarily stunned by how much she has managed to keep up on despite the no contact order. Which you will hopefully withdraw after a few more meetings with your mother. "Yeah, I must admit I am a bit surprised you know that." "Darling, there are some perks to being a Baroness, although you are technically in line for the throne, as am I." "Tell me you're not being serious right now, mother, I'm not a princess, I'm a lawyer who dabbles in songwriting with her boyfriend, just sang a song with him onstage at Coachella and lives a quietish life in Hampstead. "Relax, you are not a princess, you're of royal blood, there's quite a difference. Believe it or not, there are a few hundred commoners in London who are of royal blood, most just are not aware. And it was my line that was of royal blood, so your father saw it as a way to increase his status. I was also not given a choice in my marriage, but unlike you I lacked the courage to do something about it for myself and if you are the result of that then I am very happy I went along with it." "Thank you mother." "Someday I hope to hear you call me mum once again, but until then I am just happy to speak to you." "I would like that too, now for dinner next week, Wednesday or Thursday?" You reply and ask. "Let me speak with Lorraine and Fitzwilliam, and then I'll have a memo sent to you at your office, via your assistant, Amelia isn't it?" "She prefers Mia, and she's not my assistant, but she is in my department. I don't keep an assistant, I prefer to manage it all myself." "Well I will have it go to Mia then just to avoid violating the no contact order." "That won't be necessary, I'll have it fixed before the end of the day." Over the next hour you asked your mother all the tough questions that you had been waiting years to ask and she answered every single one of them in detail, she told you more about Fitzwilliam, and how her and Lorraine are quite friendly. Having chosen to make light of the situation your father had put them both in. When you're getting ready to head out you pause to look at your mother, she too is standing and without letting your head convince you otherwise, you give her a quick, polite, appropriate hug. "Thank you Mum, thank you for this, for everything we discussed today. I'll be waiting for your letter or call.” You say as the two of you walk out. When you return home, H is waiting by the door to greet you like a lovesick puppy. The wet sloppy kiss you receive also reminds you of a puppy, of which you have two that are also begging for your attention and happy to have you home.
“I Can See You’re Lonely Down There”
It’s Thursday, the day you and Harry are having dinner with your mum, half-brother, and his mum. If all goes well H wants to do another dinner next week with the addition of his mum and his sister, maybe even invite his father. Your nerves are starting to get the better of you, you know that you and H still have secrets between you, you especially, there are so many things that happened in your five years away from him that haunt you to this very day. Some of them you’re a little surprised he doesn’t seem to know about, but then again, your father had it buried in a snap of his fingers. But tonight is about looking forward not dwelling in the past. Tonight is about the bond blood can create, reuniting as an albeit slightly dysfunctional family, but still a family. You’re going back to your roots and sharing them with the man you love. “Morning Lovie,” H says as he brings you breakfast in bed this morning. He made pancakes, but not just any pancakes, these pancakes are stuffed with cheesecake, and are drizzled in chocolate and caramel sauce. You smile brightly at the gesture and the two of you spend the next hour cuddling and enjoying the delicious food. Once it’s gone you turn to H, "just wanna change and then I’ll meet you down in the kitchen."
You knew this would take most of the day, you two have a lot to make, and cooking in the kitchen together with H is one of your favorite things to do. He wears skimpy shorts, no shirt, a pair of socks so he can dance around the kitchen while cooking, and a damned claw clip holding back his messy curls. The damned clip gets you soaked every time but you wouldn’t change a thing, being horny and desperate just up the level of difficulty and amount of concentration needed to properly execute the recipe and you love the pressure just like you love a challenge, sides, H always fixes it. Today you decided to tease him a bit by wearing a y/f/c (your favorite color) bra and panty set, the set itself is basic and plain, but when you put on your white crochet mini over it you know it will drive him crazy, especially when you add the rose gold choker that has the letters ‘H⬪S’ in the middle. You also stick with socks only on your feet so you can dance around with H, knowing he’d pull you around regardless. When you enter the kitchen, in addition to his standard cooking fit, he added the pink frilly apron you got him for his birthday the first year you were together. When you see how he also used a pink claw clip you can’t help but giggle which alerts Harry to your presence, not that he didn’t know you were there because he did, but he allowed himself to look at you after the giggle.
“Oh, fuck me,” he groaned seeing what you were wearing. “How am I supposed to cook when you look like that.” he adds, his eyes darkening with lust. “Now you know how I feel watching you dance around the kitchen in skimpy shorts, sometimes just your briefs, without a shirt, a towel over your shoulder, and your hair in of those damned clips that make me fucking swoon, you dolt.” you counter and he just smirks. “Ya know, it does feel like a brief kinda day,” he comments and slips his shorts off, right in front of you, turning around to show off his ass that you love. “Is that the game we’re playing H?” you ask and even the score by removing your bra and panties, but leaving the cover on. “Let’s start cooking before I end up fucking you on the cleaned and sanitized counters.” You bite back a moan and nod your head. “Words, lovie.” “Oh for fucks sake, just fuck me out of my misery H, please, we can re-clean them and still have enough time to do everything, plus have time for our oomph.” You are cut off by H melding his lips with yours and demanding access to your mouth. He pulls the tie on the front of the cover free and gives both of your ass cheeks a good slap before completely removing the cover. “Open,” he demands, one you eagerly comply with, especially because you can tell he is feeling very much his dominant, alpha male self today. He spits directly onto your tongue, before resealing his lips with yours, his tongue spreading it all over the inside of your mouth. Pulling back just a bit, he smirks before running a single finger through your dripping folds, he brings it back up and smears it all over your lips before kissing them clean. Then he goes back for more, but this time he has you suck yourself off of his finger, repeating the last one again, only with two fingers and licking them clean himself. All while somehow keeping his eyes locked on yours, and yours locked on his, unable to look away even if you wanted to. “S’ fucking delicious, baby, could eat you all fucking day for the rest of my entire fucking life and still not have enough.” You moan at his words and grip the sides of his apron to pull him flush against you. His hands return to your ass, then a bit lower where he slaps so you know to jump. “Y’ve got me so fucking whipped I can’t even go 24 hours without fucking your tight, pretty little cunt.” his words are like pouring gasoline on a bonfire in the middle of a fucking forest, igniting every nerve in your body, to the point where it moves of its own volition, grinding your bare, drenched cunt against his brief covered cock, staining them with your arousal. “Fucking drenching my cock and its not even out yet doll, fucks.” he says, his voice almost a moan.
“OH GOD, please H, please just split me in fucking half with your cock, can’t wait anymore.” You cry out, on the verge of an orgasm. “Gonna come already baby, ‘ve barely touched your cunt.” “DON”T FUCKING CARE H, JUST FUCK ME, WANNA COME SO BAD!” you whine and plead and beg. “PLEASE! FUCKING PLEASE H!” before your body even has time to register, his briefs are off and his cock is pressing at your entrance waiting for you to tip over that blissful edge before he slides in. He knows your tight, you’re always fucking tight, but he also knows you like the initial bit of pain. He ruts once, twice, thrice, never entering you just rubbing against you and giving your ass cheeks a nice, rough pinch on each rut. That was all it took to tip the scales and send you tumbling over. Knowing he can build up a nice gush, he pinches at your clit before rubbing over your slit, left and right, only using two fingers, but moving them faster and faster. Just until he feels you stop pulsing with aftershocks from your orgasm and places his tip against you once again before finally slamming himself forward, giving you that rough first thrust which has you letting out a surprised yelp and a pleasured scream. “YES! FUCK H!” you scream and pant, H never letting his pace or force falter. A quick glance to his face shows his gorgeous green irises gone, swallowed by his dark desire, and you know he’s chasing his own orgasm, still paying the slightest bit of attention to you, as he wants you to squirt all over his cock when he comes, he knows exactly how to get you there, and exactly how to time it with him, He knows your body better than he knows where the nearest Gucci store is. Better than he knows even his own fucking body. He can play yours like a fine tuned guitar, which string to pluck, when and where to strum, and what to press on when. So even though 99% of him is a primal, savage beast right now, there is always part of him focused completely on you. And when he slides against that spongey part inside you, over and over again, you know you’re done for, you know what’s going to happen, and he knows it too, knowing what he can do to you, how well he can play your body has his balls tightening, ready to explode, his thrusts falling out of rhythm, his movements becoming sloppier and more erratic, and as soon he feels that first bit of release, he pinches your clit again and takes you over with him. Gushing all over his cock, all over the counter and floor, turning the once clean kitchen into a sticky sexy mess. When you’ve both emerged from your orgasmic hazes, he can’t help but laugh and lick you clean as best as he can before grabbing a towel and helping you off the counter. “Oopsies.” You say with your most innocent smile, which has him laughing again and the sound of his laughter is so contagious you can’t help but laugh with him.
“Don’t You Know That I Am Right Here”
After recleaning the entire kitchen(a deep, deep clean), changing out of your sticky clothes, and one last kiss, you and H actually get to work prepping dinner, he starts on the garlic bread, while you make the strawberry gelato so it can get into the freezer in time. Then you shift your focus to the alfredo sauce, and the baked chicken seasoned only with salt, pepper, a bit garlic, and a hint of onion. When H finishes the garlic bread and gets it into the proofing drawer in your kitchen, he goes to town on the pasta. The two of you ended up deciding on linguine rather than fettuccine, you just like the way it cooks a little bit better. When the pasta is ready to cook he pulls the cheesy meatballs you prepped the previous day out of the fridge and rolls them in the seasoning you use, so they are ready for you to pan fry. Finally he turns his attention to hunting down some limoncello and one of his italian red wines that he thinks your mother will like. In addition to the sparkling white grape juice the two of you picked out for your half-brother. Once everything is going, you watch the food while he runs up to shower and change. He comes back in the suit he wore onstage during LOT in Dallas, the pink one with the flowers that makes you happy, because he wears it so well. “It was this one or the rainbow one from Late Late 2017.” He comments when he catches you staring. “Harry Edward Styles, you know damn well that the suit you’re wearing right now is my second favorite suit of yours.” “Your second favorite, I thought this one was your favorite.” “Nope. And I’m not telling you which one is my favorite, you’ll tease me with it.” You answer and add, “I might tell you tonight though if you behave.” “Your turn Lovie,” he says and takes over food watch. You shower quickly and change into a rose colored tank style jumpsuit with a belted waist, keeping it classy and elegant, but the casual kind of classy and elegant.
About 15 minutes after you are both ready, your phones chime with a gate request. “They’re here.” You say, the nerves returning. “Breathe, It’s ok, we’ve got this. Together.” H reminds you after approving the gate request. Your mum enters first with a young couple behind her, the woman appears to be about your age. And hiding behind the woman is a boy, your half-brother. “Y/N this is Lorraine, her boyfriend Andrew, and your brother, Fitzwilliam.” Your mum says, introducing everyone. “And this is my daughter Y/N and her boyfriend Harold.” “Yeah, i got that, you really don’t need to introduce Harry Styles.” Lorraine comments, slightly starstruck. Yeah, you can already tell you’re going to like her. “Its lovely to meet you as well Y/N,” Lorraine adds. “I apologize by the way, When your mother said we’d be having dinner at your boyfriend Harold’s house, I didn’t realize she was referring to Harry Styles.” “I take it you’re a fan,” Harry says to Lorraine. “She’s quite the fan of yours, and now that I’ve met you, I might have to give her that one.” Andrew chimes in. “Hey, Fitz, this is the guy that sings Watermelon Sugar,” Lorraine says to her son. “Fitz adored that song when he was 8.” Harry swallows, and you look at him and smile. “Definitely has a fun kinda vibe to it. It’s one of my favorites of Harry’s as well.” You say. “Fitz, would you like to hear a secret?” You ask the boy and when he nods you pull him a few steps down the hall while Harry leads the adults into the open kitchen/dining room/living room area.
“So Harry doesn’t know i’m doing this, and you can’t tell him I showed you, he is very protective of this space.” You say, leading him down to the basement. You open the door to H’s studio and watch as Fitz’s eyes travel along all the awards and certification records. You go to a small closet while Fitz looks at things and pull out a size small TPWK hoodie, and an autographed Fine Line cd. “Here, these are for you.” You say to him and hold out the hoodie and cd. He takes them excitedly and smiles at you. “Thank You Y/N.” Fitz says to you and it makes your heart happy because he hasn’t said a word all night until now. “May I?” He asks, pointing to the piano. “You play?” You ask and he gives you an ‘mhmm’ so you let him approach the piano. When he sits on the bench and places his hands properly before beginning to play, no book or sheet music in front of him. It takes you a few moments to recognize the song he’s playing, As It Was. Those same notes that you and H wrote together over two years ago. It makes you smile and also has you wondering if your and Harry’s kids would be this musically inclined. “Wow.” Harry’s voice says from the doorway, everyone else close by. “That was really good, remember sitting there and writing it together Y/NN?” H adds. “Of course I do H.” You answer. Fitz quits playing and runs over to Lorraine saying, “Mumma, look what she gave me, look, look what I got.” Lorraine and Andrew both look at you, surprised he’s talking as much as he is. Tears are actually forming in Lorraine’s eyes. H hugs you closer to his side as the moment sinks in. “Well, dinner won’t serve itself, unless of course someone here can do magic?” You say and everyone laughs before you all head back upstairs. After dinner, Andrew pulls you aside, and Lorraine joins soon after, Harry is chilling with Fitz, who has opened up a great deal in just a few short hours. “How did you do that?” Lorraine asks you. “I don’t actually know,” You reply, “Well, whenever you want to work another miracle on him, call me and we’ll figure out a time and place.” She adds. “Absolutely, maybe the two of us could do lunch tomorrow and talk, or indulge in some healthy gossip?” You say, wanting to actually turn Lorraine into a friend, not just your ‘half-brother’s mum’. “I’d like that.” She answers and the two of you exchange numbers. “Come on Fitz, time to go.” Andrew calls, Harry and Fitz both join you. Your mother making her way over shortly after. “You know, the two of you will make wonderful parents… when you’re ready of course.” There was a moment of silence before Harry spoke up. “Someday, when it happens for us, i’m sure we will.” He says, looking at you the entire time. “Well, it was a pleasure to meet you Y/N, and you as well Harry.” Andrew comments, you and Harry walk them out. Fitz hugs both you and Harry before leaving. “Bye Y/N, I’m glad you’re my sister. Bye Harry, you’re the coolest.” Fitz says as he hugs each of you. “Bye Fitz, I’m glad you’re my brother.” You say and Harry adds, “You’re pretty cool too, don’t underestimate yourself bud.” With that he gets in the car and you watch as they all leave.
Immediately after they've all pulled out of the drive, Harry turns to you. "So, which of my suits is your favorite?" He asks, the smirk already on his face. "I think you know." You reply. "I think I do as well, but I still want to hear you say it." "And I'm waiting for you to get so impatient you just stay guessing." "The Purple Paisley one." He responds. "Got it in one, you cocky, egotistical, messy, loving, sexy as fucks, man that I love." "But I also know that you love all of my suits and all of my stage clothes. Miss 'I'm just going to borrow your pink Coachella vest for the night and the rest of the outfit that I still haven't gotten back." "And that one you are NEVER EVER EVER EVER getting back, that one is mine now." You reply as Harry tickles your sides while you make your way upstairs.
“Spinning Out Waiting For Ya”
It’s been a little over six weeks since you first met Lorraine, Andrew, and Fitz. The family dinner H wanted to have got postponed, and its happening tomorrow night, you and Harry are hosting. It will be the two of you, Anne, Gems, and Desmond, Harry’s step-brother Mike might also join you, plus Lorraine, Andrew, Fitz, and your mum. “Y/NN, would you mind if I invite Sarah, Mitch, and Scout?” Harry asks you while the two of you are cuddling on the couch. “That might actually be a good idea, should I see if Mia wants to join as well?”
“Let’s do it, keep it small, but we have both blood and chosen families.” He answers and you tilt to capture his lips with yours, thanking him for putting as much thought into this as you. You spend the rest of the day being lazy and also planning out the meal, After deciding on doing individual homemade pizzas, you and H fall into bed and despite how lazy you were today, you fall asleep as soon as your head hits the pillow, the dogs joining immediately, but H gets his spot before Palmer can steal it from him. When you wake up the next morning, you and H go for a jog with the pups, pick up breakfast on the way back, and clean the house together before showering together. You are most definitely not teasing H in the shower, oh fuck it, you so are. He knows it to, so when you go to accidentally bump him again, he grabs your hips and pulls you into him. His chest is pressed flush against your back, his cock hard as steel and wedged between your ass cheeks, and he’s holding you in place with a firm grip on the front of your hips, formally known as ‘the column’ its one of your shared favorites because it doesn’t necessarily look explicit at first glance.
“Will you quit being a bratty fucking temptress, or do I have to fuck it out of you?” H whispers into your ear and follows it up with a slap to your right nipple. You moan but don’t give him a coherent answer so he slaps your left. When you still don’t answer, he has his answer but changes his tactic to get you to speak. A quick slap directly over your clit has you talking and behaving in an instant. “Fuck me.” You whine, “Do you want me to prep you? It’s the only orgasm your going to get.” He asks, almost growling the last part. There is something about his face buried between your thighs that makes him go absolutely feral, whether he’s actually eating you out, or getting himself off in a hotel after a show to the thought of eating you out, his dick reacts the same way to both.
“Please H.” You whimper and that’s all he needs to hear before picking you up and immediately slamming you into the wall of the shower, your legs over his shoulders, cunt resting on his face. He inhales deeply, absorbing as much of your scent as he can, knowing he could never get enough. Not to mention the lingering reminder of being back on tour, and even though it’s the European leg, he knows you won’t be able to join him, having too much to do at the firm. “God baby, gonna miss tasting you everyday while i’m gone.” he sighs before returning to his meal that consists of you and only you. Alternating between licking, sucking, and small bites, he built you up to your edge in no time and now has you teetering there, when he sucks your clit into his mouth and begins to whip his head from side to side, you know you’re done for. He smirks to himself and greedily slurps up every last drop of your orgasm, while rubbing circles into your thighs as you come back down from the high. He slowly stands, still keeping you locked against the wall and his body. Immediately after you regain a semblance of balance, you wiggle out of his grasp and drop to your knees. You manage to catch him offguard with a few teasing kitten licks to his leaking slit, before sitting back on your knees and looking up at him, you stick your tongue out and he spits on it before answering your silent request. “Words, but don’t you dare swallow, doll.” You take a quick breath before speaking, slowly so you can be understood without question.
“Fuck my face please H.” “Good fucking girl,” he answers and places the tip of his cock on your once again outstretched tongue. Moving his spit around your tongue with his tip for a just a few seconds before giving you what you asked for. He doesn’t relent either, going in and out, a solid grip on your head to help maximize the friction and pace. “Fucking made for my cock baby aren’t ya.” “All your fuckholes are, they’re all mine, y'mouth, y'cunt, and y'sweet little asshole, all made just for me and my cock. Fuck, just like that, take it, fucking take it baby.” H pulls you off for a quick breath before putting you right back in place, your nose pressed into his pubic hairs, and his balls against your chin. He keeps one hand on your head and moves the other to your throat for a slight squeeze. He can feel his cock down your throat and with his hand choking you slightly, you feel it even more than you already do. H knows you like it, and knows you prefer to tap out so he holds you there, rutting slightly, just enough to hear his balls slap against your chin. You give his left ass cheek a small slap and he pulls out completely. “Thank you H,” you croak. “Up, now.” He demanded and almost just pulled you up himself, he was on edge himself, and knew time was running short, so he quickly spun you so you could lean your hands against the shower wall as he fucked you mercilessly from behind. Just as his orgasm surfaced, he felt you spasm around him, indicating you were coming again, even after he told you that you were only getting the one, oh yes, he was ready to punish you with a nice twelve to eighteen hour edging session, god he loved them. Mostly because they didn’t happen often, in the going on three years the two of you had been together, it had happened three times, this one made it four. When he started thinking about it, it was as if his orgasm just kept going and going and going. “Fuck Harry.” You whispered. “You do realize what this means right baby?” He spoke, a tinge of huskiness in his voice. “Mmm, yeah, i know. This weekend, promise.” You answered. That was an acceptable timeline seeing as it would probably be the last time you two got to fuck before he leaves monday afternoon.
The two of you finally got clean, a splash battle taking place while Harry was taking too long washing his hair. “Hey, these messy curls you like so much take effort.” He teased you. So you splashed him, and he just had to splash you back. By the time you were both out of the shower, you had less than an hour to get ready. Your hair ended up in a diagonal fishtail which you wrapped into a bun that sat just under your ear. A dusty blue floral dress, white flats, and your sunflower anklet from H. Speaking of H, he was looking sexy as always in a denim suit with a white tank. “I hope Fitz likes his present, i’d love to bring out a piano at Wembley and have him play a song or two with me.” H says, kissing the top of your head as you start getting things pulled out for the pizzas. “H, you are the only person I know who would actually pull a twelve year old boy onstage with you in front of an already sold out crowd of 90 fucking thousand, four nights in a row. And design and purchase a full size piano for said boy. Like seriously, I’m almost jealous of it, and I for sure would be if said little boy wasn’t my little half-brother who is an absolute gem.” You answer and H looks at you, almost as if he was hoping you’d be jealous. “Oh, don’t you worry darling, you’ll get your turn.” He says with a smirk, and just as you’re about to reply the gate notification goes off. “I’m not done pestering you about this yet.” you say and emphasize it with a firm finger poke to his chest. H being H just laughs out loud while you go out to greet Lorraine, Andrew, and Fitz.
“Y/N!!!!!” Fitz hollers, jumping out of the car and running up to give you a big hug. “Who are you and what have you done with my shy little brother Fitz?” you laugh but hug him back. “I don’t know how you and Harry managed to do it, but even his teachers have noticed the difference, he’s speaking up in class, making actual friends, and he gave an entire presentation without a single stutter.” Lorraine says to you. “Well if that’s the case, I’d say he’s earned the present I have for him.” Harry adds walking outside. “HARRY! GUESS WHAT!” Fitz says, jumping up and down excitedly. “You climbed Mount Everest? Got cast in a hollywood movie? Somehow gained superpowers? Kissed a girl?” Harry starts throwing random guesses out and you elbow him for the last one. “H!” “Ew, kissing.” Fitz says with a shudder, indicating his disgust for the concept. “It’s not so bad once you get it right kid.” H says and ruffles his hair a bit. “Now what did you want to tell me?” “I can play Matilda on the piano now. I wanted to learn it after I saw a youtube video of you and my sister singing it together.” Fitz says, and you about cry at how thoughtful this kid is. “Well… maybe we’ll have to have a concert tonight. If your sister is ok with it of course.” H replies and they both turn to you with the sad puppy dog eyes that H taught him.
“Nope, not happening.” You say at the same time Anne gets out of her car and says, “That sounds like a wonderful idea young man. You must be Fitzwilliam, but my baby boy Harry here tells me you go by Fitz, is that right?” Anne holds out a hand for a shake but the new bubbly and social Fitz goes straight for a hug. “If Harry’s your baby, then you’re his mum, Anne, who likes Y/N better than you like your own son Harry. At least that’s what Harry told me.” “Harry Edward Styles!” Anne says sternly to H. “Fitz, you weren’t supposed to tell her that. You silly kid.” “Well, then again, you are quite the handful, always have been.” Anne adds and you laugh, hugging her tight. “See, my point exactly.” Everyone laughs just as your mum’s driver pulls up. “So, do I like her, or not like her?” Anne whispers to you. “You’ll like her Anne.” “Glad to hear it.” “Hi, Mum.” you say and embrace your mother.
“Baroness Y/L/N.” Harry greets your mother, she swats the greeting away. “I do believe i’ve told you to call me Isabelle, Harold.” “Apologies m’am, but my mother raised me better than that.” “I raised you to treat your elders with respect which includes addressing them how they wish to be addressed Harry.” Anne scolds him. “Thank you Anne, and I would also like to thank you for being there for my daughter when I wasn’t.” “Of course, I love her just as much as I love Harry and Gemma. Y/N is an amazing young woman.” “Fitz tells me it might even be more than Harry, but a mother’s love is infinite.” “That it is,” Anne replies and the two of them head into the house chatting as if they’ve known each other for years.
“Damn, did we miss all the fun?” Gemma says as her and Michal arrive. “Gemms!” You squeal and hug her. “Hi. Is your name Gemma, are you Harry’s sister? I’m Fitz and Y/N is my sister.” Fitz introduces himself to Gemma and you can’t help but find it adorable. “It absolutely is, and even though sometimes I wish I wasn’t, I am Harry’s older sister, just like Y/N is your older sister.” Gemma says to Fitz who turns to Michal next.
“Who are you, why are you here, and how do you know my sister and Harry?” He asks. “Fitzwilliam, be nice.” Lorraine corrects him. “He’s ok, his honesty is quite refreshing.” Michal says to Lorraine. He then squats to Fitz’s level and holds out a hand for a handshake. “Nice to meet you Fitz, i’m Michal, Gemma’s boyfriend, and she’s how I know Y/N and Harry.” “Ok.” Fitz replies, shaking his hand, apparently deeming that an acceptable answer. He then turns to Harry. “Can I have my present now?” He asks politely. “Fitz, I love that you’re talking willingly, but you need to be respectful and courteous, wait for them to ask you if you would like to open your present.” Lorraine explains to Fitz. “Ok mum, sorry Harry.” “Well, would you like to go open your present Fitz?” Harry asks him, going about it the right way. Fitz nods and tears into the house so you all follow after him. Fitz has just finished unwrapping his piano model, because the big one is going to be professionally installed wherever Lorraine allows it, but Harry also bought a second one for his studio, so it is currently behind a curtain in your living area until Harry has people come over to swap them. “That’s just a model of the full size one you’re getting, which will look like this in your house.” he says and pulls the curtain. “You can use this one today though, now we’ll have matching pianos.” H says and Fitz hugs him as tight as he can. “So, how many did you buy?” You ask Harry when Fitz goes to the actual piano. “Only four. One for Fitz, one for the studio, one for tour, and a spare because I know the tour one or the studio one will end up getting broken with my rowdy band. “Too true.” “Hope I’m not late.” Desmond says, entering the living room. “Not at all Dad.” Harry says, briefly hugging his father. “Desmond.” Anne says in greeting. “Anne.” He replies. “Hey Dad.” Gemms says and hugs him. “Good to see you Gemms.” “Hello Mr. Styles.” Fitz greets him and offers a handshake. “I’m Fitz, Y/N’s brother.” Desmond shakes his hand gladly and returns the introduction. “Nice to meet you Fitz, and you can call me Desmond.”
Sarah and Mitch arrive with Scout a few minutes later, and Mia shows up not long after that. You all make your pizzas and enjoy them in the garden. When it starts to get dark, H lights a fire and you run inside to get the ingredients for s’mores. “Really Y/N, s’mores? How American.” Mia teases you, and before you can laugh, Fitz jumps to your rescue. “Well I happen to think s’mores are delicious and you should be nice to my sister, teasing is not nice.” He says quite matter of factly and you hug him. “Mia just doesn’t like sweets like we do Fitz, so she likes to tell me to eat healthier sweets, in her own way. It’s one of my favorite things about her actually.” You explain. “Sorry Miss Mia.” He apologizes. After that, most of you take turns roasting marshmallows for s’mores. As the night was winding down, you all went back inside. Harry turned on the spotlight by the piano, Fitz sat down and the three of you performed a one song concert with Matilda. H kissed you at the end and Fitz interrupted the moment with a well timed ‘Ewwww’ but H could care less, Fitz would learn someday. Sarah, Mitch, and Mia were whooping you two and everyone else was laughing at the opposite reactions. “I love you Y/N.” “Love you more H.” Harry just shook his head no into your kiss. You both knew you were so far gone for each other. Properly ruined for anyone else. Everything H did with other people was friendly, whether it be a friendly hug with a fan, a friendly kiss with Lewis Capaldi, or a friendly slap on the ass to one of his band members, it was all friendly, and you knew that, you know just how much love H has. He just fucking radiates it, let’s it roll off of him in waves, but he would never love anyone else the way he loves you. Although you know that with every fiber of your being, you never stop teasing him about chopping his dick off if he ever cheats on you again. And yes, he laughs every single fucking time you say it, you can barely say it without laughing yourself anymore.
“I’m In An LA Mood”
“Hi Lorraine… OH MY GOD IS THAT WHAT I THINK IT IS!?” You say joining her at the table she reserved for the two you for lunch. “Yeah, Andrew proposed last night, he even asked Fitz if that was ok with him before asking me.” She says, happy tears starting to fall. “And well, that also brings me to why I wanted to meet you for lunch, I was well, you’ve become an amazing friend, and I don’t have any siblings, so I was hoping you would be my maid of honor, please?” she asks you and even though you are momentarily speechless you quickly recover and agree. “I’d love to!” “Also, Andrew and I were hoping that you and Harry would be willing to let Fitz spend the night on our wedding night and maybe like a week after it. We toyed with the idea of a familymoon, but decided to go the classic route instead.” “Well, the wedding night won’t be an issue, we’d be happy to, but the week will depend on Harry’s schedule, as well as my own, I can’t always control my caseload.” “Absolutely, it’s going to be August 4th. So just a month away, neither of us wanted something large, so it’s actually in the east garden at your family estate.”
“Shit, a month? That is going to be pushing it, but I will make it work. We’re going to LA for your bachelorette party, I know you said you always wanted to go, and I actually have a few clients there with quite the connections.” “You don’t have to do that.” “You’re right, I don’t, but I want to, so are we doing a stag and doe, or separate bach parties? Because Harry would know what to do for guys, although he’d tag along with the girls just for the hell of it though too.” “Stag and Doe, ideally kid friendly, we want Fitz to be there as well. And well, it should also be expecting mother friendly.” She adds that last bit with a smile. “Woah, so not only are you getting married, your pregnant too? Please tell me that’s not why you’re getting married.” “Fuck no,” She says and quickly claps her hand over her mouth. “Lorraine, it’s ok, you can swear in front of me, I am not my mother.”
“Oh thank goodness, i’m usually so good about it, mostly because I don’t want Fitz to start swearing." You finish lunch with Lorraine, and as soon as you’re back in your office, you summon Mia. “Pack a bag bitch, we’re going to LA for a bach weekend!” Mia whoops, as you knew she would, she loves a good reason to get high and/or drunk. Mia has this way of being the party without stealing the party away from the intended person(s). It’s incredible really, and just another reason she is quite honestly your absolute best friend.
So… you and Harry planned the bach weekend, friday on a private beach, Saturday sightseeing for those that are not completely hungover, and sunday in vegas. H is chartering your favorite plane (and yeah, somehow he got the exact same plane he fucked you on during the flight to NYC after Coachella), so you don’t have to worry about oversleeping (H will end up oversleeping, he always fucking does, especially if he’s high), and you can bring all the shit you want, with the added bonus of not actually having to walk through the airport, a car drops you off on the tarmac, and picks you up on the tarmac (God it’s fucking great). Mostly you’re planning it over video calls, phone calls, and texts (a lot of texts with some explicit photos mixed in to ‘spice things up’, classy right?). Obviously you’re not getting any planning done at Slane FUCKING Castle, c’mon its a fucking castle, you and H left your mark on Slane, thats for damn sure. You may or may not have broken a statue in one of the gardens while fucking. It was the second time you performed Matilda with him, the fans eating it all up. You also joined him for As it Was, and the techs ‘forgot to turn off your mic’ so when you started singing along to medicine, well… yeah. It got fixed pretty quick, but it was still funny, and still ended up all over social media. And Wembley, well, Fitz made it onstage all four nights, twice each night, playing Matilda with you and H, as well as playing Watermelon Sugar. Then you had to stay in London for a case while H continued, but you made it to Madrid, Lisbon, and Italy for the final three shows of Love On Tour. Emotions were running rampant at Reggio Emilia, H needing his pre-show shag, and an additional handie between the set and the encores. You and H were back in London on the 25th, wanting a few extra days in Italy, a country you both absolutely adore.
You and the rest of the bach crew flew to LA on the 27th, and came back on the 31st with an extra passenger (but you didn’t know that yet). Lorraine and Andrew got married in the east garden on the 4th, in front of close family and close friends. You were crying the entire ceremony (hormones), but it was during that event that you realized marriage isn’t scary, especially not with the kind of love you and Harry share. You waited an entire extra month to tell him though, wanting to make sure that Fitz wasn’t in the house, and also just to make sure you wouldn’t change your mind. So when you finally were ready to tell Harry, well, you were close to six weeks pregnant, but still had no idea, because it wasn’t uncommon for your period to misbehave and just not happen one month. You planned everything to a fucking T. Got your favorite fish and chips, had dinner in the garden, and cozied up on the outdoor sofa when you were done eating. “H,” “Yeah baby?” “Remember how I told you I didn’t think I ever wanted to actually get married?” “Of course I do, why, did a certain couple change your mind?” he asked, peppering kisses down your jaw and onto your neck before moving them to your shoulders. “Maybe. I might have realized that marriage doesn’t have to be scary, its just sharing your love, your bond, with friends, family, and millions of fans all over the entire world.” “Ahh, marking your territory, I like it.” H teases you more. “Stop it H, this is serious business.” you say, swatting at him lightly or well trying, but he catches your hand (you happened to be using your LEFT hand). He firmly shuts you up with a deep, burning kiss.
“Then marry me Y/N, fucking marry me, we can go first thing tomorrow and pick out whatever fucking ring you want, I honestly don’t care, s’long as the end result is me getting to call you m’wife.” You’re stunned into silence, clearly he’s been thinking about it too, you weren’t actually expecting him to ask immediately. “Yes, yes, i’ll… i’ll…” “Baby? You okay?” H asks you when you start gagging. You bolt up and over to the small waste bin you keep out here and vomit. “Fuck, baby,” H races over to you. “Are you okay? Please baby, please tell me your okay? Do I need to call an ambulance?” You can’t help but giggle, feeling fine now that you’ve thrown up. “I’m okay H, I swear. Must’ve been the fish. But Yes H. Yes, I want to marry you.” Harry didn’t give a fuck that you’d just vomited, he was so fucking happy in that moment, with you that he just picked you up and spun you around. “H, DOWN NOW!” you managed to say before gagging again. He set you down immediately, and you vomited into the bin again. “Ok, what is it? And don’t tell me you’re okay, because clearly you’re not.” He said, stroking your back gently. “Is it bloody week?” He asked and that comment, that reminder, was what really brought the thought into your head. “Follow me, don’t get your hopes up, it could easily just be a bug, but..” “But you don’t think it is now do you?” he finishes your thought. “Quit interrupting me will you?” you say as the two of you make your way upstairs and into your bathroom. Cado and Palmer following close behind, both of them worried about you as well. You pulled a two pack of pregnancy tests out of the bottom drawer and followed the directions, although peeing on a couple sticks seems rather self explanatory. H set a timer, you washed your hands and rinsed out your mouth. After which H kissed you again. You could tell he was both nervous and also minorly excited even though you told him not to be. When the timer went off you looked at one and H looked at the other. You swapped sticks, they both read the same thing.
“I Don’t Wanna Talk To You”
- One Month Later-
“Y/N, you’re still coming to my recital tomorrow night right?” Fitz asked you, and you realized you forgot to tell him with everything else that’s been going on.
-Flashback, One Month Ago- You and H had just gotten engaged, albeit without a ring temporarily, a situation the two of you were going to rectify the next day. But then you vomited, and took two pregnancy tests. You and H both looked at each of them. “Holy Fuck. I’m… i’m pregnant.” “Yeah, you fucking are.” H said, already on his knees in front of you. Pressing kisses to your abdomen and resting his forehead against it. “H, we’re having a fucking baby.” “Yeah, we fucking are.” “H, language, watch it. God I have so much more research to do now.” “Not without me you don’t. We are doing all of this together, every single step of the way, every high, every low, together, all three of us. and if I have to watch my language, you have to watch yours, mama." “I like the sounds of doing it together, and let's just promise to try not to swear every other word like we sometimes do, now, bedtime cuddles?”
“Bedtime cuddles. You are not getting out of any of them during this. You are also not leaving my side.” “H, be reasonable, I have work, I will have to pee, you will have meetings, and you have a little brand called ‘Pleasing’ to watch over as well. “Fine, but you will have someone with you at all times, except bathroom breaks. But lovie, once we take our engagement public…” “Yeah, there’s a big difference between being your girlfriend, being your fiancee, and then being your wife.” You finish his thought while slipping into one of his pink Pleasing hoodies. “Oh fuck me, this has somehow managed to be both the absolute best and the most stressful day of my entire fucking life thus far.” H says as the two of you cuddle into bed together. “We’re still going ring shopping first thing right H?” You ask, excited to actually get a sparkly ring slipped onto your finger by H. You know he’ll be at least a little bit extra, and you love him all the more for it. “Mmhmmm,” He mumbles, already asleep. True to his word, he actually got up first thing in the morning, cooked breakfast, and made tea, brought it all back to bed and woke you up slowly and deliciously. You got soft kisses all over. He started at your legs and inched his way up. By the time he was finally done loving on your tummy and tits, you were a soaking wet mess for him. “Food first, then more loving, then we’re leaving, there will be a ring on this finger…” he said, sucking your left ring finger into his mouth, “...before 2pm today.” “Wow H, 2pm, is that your definition of first thing?” You tease. “Would you rather go ring shopping with a drenched cunt?” “Honestly H, I’m going to end up drenched regardless, so wouldn’t you rather wind me up a bit more?” “You Y/N, are a dirty, dirty girl. My dirty girl. And the mumma to our baby.” H says, holding himself above you, his cock resting at your core.
“Mmhmm, and you H are this baby’s daddy.” He ruts into you at the word. “Fuck, say it again.” “What? Daddy?” you say again and feel him rut again.. “Damn, I fucking love the way that sounds coming from your lips.” he says and kisses you. His kiss is needy and heavy and wet, and you don’t ever want him to stop. “Careful Daddy or I might demand to be fucked.” “Careful lovie, or you might not get to come at all today.” You mewl and just take what he gives you. Which is a few more short kisses before he gets up and hands you your oreo berry parfait. You eat, shower, and dress then H is putting you in the jaguar e-type, and driving you to a small, tucked away jewellery shop. “Why this one H?” You asked, mildly curious, you passed at least four others on your way here so you figured there had to be a reason.
“This is where Robin got my mum’s ring, he had asked me to help him pick one out.” “I love that, the one time I got to meet him it was clear how much he loved your mum, goddammit H, I didn’t want to cry.” You say, trying to blink away the tears. “I hate hormones so much.” you finish saying and H wipes away the few tears. “It’s ok to cry lovie, sides’ your emotions are stronger right now, you feel them more. Thanks to the little baby Styles we created. Now c’mon, the sooner I get a ring on your finger the better.”
H helps you out of the car, and does a little knock rhythm on the door. A cheerie old woman runs out to greet him, “Harry, so good to see you again dearie.” she says, and you just smile at how she pinches one of his cheeks. “Fiona, this is Y/N, my fiancee who I am here to get a ring for.” “Dearie, you agreed to marry Harry without seeing the ring first?" She says with a hearty laugh and you instantly decide you like this woman. "She also let me knock her up, but that's a secret Fiona, my mum doesn't even know yet." Harry says, clearly trusting the old woman. "Well then, congratulations you two, and as soon as I saw the two of you come in together, I knew you were the one Harry mentioned way back when. But for today dearie, Harry already picked out the band, so all that's left is the diamond, you pick it and i’ll finish setting it immediately. What shape?” Fiona asks and shows you a 1 carat sample of each shape. Your eye immediately caught on two, the asscher, a square with cut corners, you weren’t familiar with it like you were the rest of the cuts, but for some reason it stood out to you, and the radiant, again it features cut corners, but rather then the stepping stone pattern seen in an asscher, the radiant gives has a star shape appearance inside the diamond.
“The asscher.” “That is my absolute favorite cut. It is subtle and won’t shine like most of the other cuts, It’s also the one I would have recommended for you. The bond you two share is deeper than any ocean, and the asscher diamond will emulate that with how it appears to swallow you in when looking at it.” "How big dearie?" Fiona asked when she got back with her tray of asscher cut. "Smaller. Maybe a 1 carat or 1 ½ carat." "This one is a lab created 1.55 carat, with excellent clarity and level of brilliance." Fiona said and held out a diamond. “It’s stunning, I love it.” You say and Fiona measures your ring size. “Then I’ll be right back, it should only take about 20 minutes to set.” When Fiona returns, and starts to reach for a box Harry stops her. “No need for that Fiona, its going on right now.” Harry says and swaps his card for the ring. He takes long, purposeful strides over to where you’re standing and grips your chin so youre looking at him. “Once this ring goes on that finger, its game over, you’re fucking mine, you understand that right.” You blink up at him innocently, before pulling him to whisper something to him. “I understand that perfectly… Daddy.” You whisper before backing away. Harry’s eyes go dark, as he slips the ring onto your finger, he kisses it quick, before kissing you, desperately. “Mmhmm, quite a love indeed.” Fiona says handing Harry his card back. -End Of Flashback-
“Fitz, i’m so sorry, I have a lot going on right now and I just got a new case at work that I have to go out of town for, I’ll make the next one. “NO! You promised me you’d come to this one Y/N. Just go, I don’t want to talk to you anymore, no one has time for me anymore.” Fitz yells, and then tones it down but you can tell he is still extremely upset. And at his last comment, you start crying and run outside for some air. “Lovie? What’s wrong?” H asks you when he joins you outside, he saw you talking to Fitz, he knows it didn’t go well, and as soon as you headed outside, he followed. “I’m the worst sibling ever. I just, god, I love my job, but there’s too much going on in every part of my life right now.” You cry into H’s shoulder, probably ruining his shirt. “Well, what about starting your own firm, you can take as many or as few cases as you like.” H suggests. “No, I honestly think I want to just leave law behind except for my family and friend clients, I kinda just miss traveling with you and writing all the time.” you say and H lights up. "Plus the execs want me to take on that client who tried to get me to fuck him, apparently he'll only sign a retainer agreement if I'm the one listed." You add. "You mean that guy whose head I almost bashed in when he tried to grope you right in front of me." Harry says, now rather frustrated. "Mhmm." You respond. “So fucking quit, put in your notice, and comeback to writing with me. Run a remote firm, just you and Mia, and I can just get you contracted through Pleasing, plus I can make sure that bloody bastard keeps his hands away from my fíancee.” H offers, and honestly it sounds so perfect to you, but you want to make sure it’s not a ‘spur of the moment’ decision. “She Said, “Give Me A Day or Two”. So that’s what he did. You slept on it that night, still thinking about how nice it would be. And when you woke up in the morning, you told him. “H, let’s do it. I’ll talk to Mia while we’re on the jet, and put my notice in as soon as I get back.” "You fucking serious right now?" "Absolutely, 100%." You say back and he immediately melds his lips to yours, his eyes intensely locking with yours, all while stealing your breath with his delicious kiss.
"I Go Round And Round"
Nashville without Harry was horrible. But at least Mia was in on your new plan. "You don't have to leave the firm with me Mia." "I know, I want to, besides you and I are 'The Law/Legal' duo. We used to be 'The Law/Legal/Law' trio until Lyla and Connor moved to Spain." "I miss her." You say, feeling emotional at the absence of your other best friend. "New topic, tell me everything!" Mia exclaims and you roll your eyes but play along. "When are the two of you taking it public?" "We're taking the pregnancy public in a month, my 16 week mark. H loves that the baby will be the size of an avocado at that point. He actually organized a shoot with the dogs included." "AWWWWWWWWWE! Gahh, you two are just too fucking perfect sometimes and I love it." "As for the engagement, we aren't announcing it. Well we are, but we're going to announce it and the fact that we're married together. We already worded it too." "TELL ME! You agree, pull up the locked note you put it in on your phone, and show it to her.
"Forever and Always, better or worse, sickness and health… til death do us part"
Image not mine
This is the only thing being posted the day of, every attendee will have to sign an NDA, and it's all being kept hush. Harry wants to ensure nothing gets leaked, not even a crumb is to go anywhere near the paps and other press.
"Yesterday you made me the happiest woman on the planet, soon we'll start a family together, but today I can call you mine in every which way and to think it all started with you proposing in our backyard (without a ring might I add), me throwing up immediately after agreeing, and then us finding out about our little Baby Styles. Can't wait to see where our adventure takes us Mr. Styles.
-With Love, Your Mrs. Harry Styles
Y/N, baby, my ex, lovie, doll. I've called you a lot of things. But starting yesterday I got to call you my wife, and soon thanks to you, I'll be a dad to our baby Styles. I loved you when I met you, I never stopped loving you when I'd lost you, I loved you when we found our way back to each other, I loved you when you performed at Coachella with me, I loved you the night I proposed in the garden, and our baby we didn't know about yet interrupted us, I loved you while following you to find out we were having a baby, I loved you yesterday on our wedding day, I love you today, I will love you tomorrow, and I will love you every single day for the rest of our lives. You're my one and only and I love you, my Mrs. Styles.
Not even in death will I ever part from you.
-H
"Dammit Y/N, y'all are seriously just too fucking cute and perfect. "We'll have a few wedding photos posted with them, but we really just want to keep it about us, and on that note, Mia will you please be one of my bridesmaids?" "Yes, of course, absolutely." Mia squeals and hugs you.
"Satellite"
Well, the day was here. Baby Styles was about to be announced to the entire world. You and H decided on a picture where he was sitting on the floor with his legs wide, back resting against a wall, you were nestled between his legs, Palmer was sitting obediently on Harry's right, getting head scratches of course, and Cado had his front two paws on your left thigh with his head by your small bump. Harry's left hand was also on the bump with yours (minus the engagement ring) over top and your fingers lacing together. "Mum, Dad, and the pups love you so much already Baby Styles!" Was what you both posted. Wanting the message to be the same. Within 15 minutes of it being posted, Harry's post had been liked by over 250k people, yours was at 100k, and the entire internet was in love with your little family. The fans were going crazy, most the good kind of crazy, but there were a few already bad mouthing you and claiming the baby was a fake, that you were just trying to trap Harry. "Unfuckingbelieveable. This might be the only thing I hate about my life, the fans that don't know when to stop. I'm so glad you're okay with having a bit of a security team while you're out. I just need you two to be safe." Harry comments to you after looking at some of the posts. "But H, look at these," you say and show him the replies on the hate comments. Most of them referencing the ecstatic smile on Harry's face in the picture. "Look at all the good ones you have H, don't let the other ones get to you, just focus on the good ones while you show the hateful ones how serious you are about us, besides, we're getting married in a few months and then they're really going to have to get over it. Because I am not giving you up ever, period, end of discussion." "They'll learn not to poke the mama bear. Won't they baby?" H asks your bump, pressing a kiss to it. "Damn right they will, especially with my background and record in the courtroom." "Your mumma is quite the badass baby. And that's just one of the reasons why I love her. How could I not love her even more when we found out about you." He continues to talk and press tiny little kisses all over. "Daddy can't wait to hold you and change your stinky little diapers baby. And you be nice to your mumma, else she'll take it out on me." He wraps up and presses one more kiss before coming back up to your level. "I love you. And so does Baby Styles." You whisper to him.
"Spinning Out, Waiting For Ya To Pull Me In"
You battled the ups and downs of pregnancy, all while planning your wedding, setting up your new remote firm in the house, baby proofing the house, writing with Harry, and managing to have family time with Fitz. It took a lot, but you were happy, happier than you can ever remember. It was hard for you to believe that tonight was your last night as an engaged couple, and being almost 8 months pregnant, Harry was not leaving your side, not that either of you really cared about traditions. And you were back in Italy getting married on the beach. It was just something that felt right when H mentioned the idea and everything fell into place. One of your favorite Italian designers made your dress. Harry of course had Lambert work with Gucci on a new custom suit or well tuxedo actually. It was all black with subtle charcoal pinstripes, the pocket openings were lined with pearls, to match the top of your dress, he had a pink and blue pocket square for funsies, and it all came together with black and ivory gazelles. You were wearing ivory gazelles as well. And you had smaller designers looking for a break, making all the other outfits you'd need for your wedding party. The bridesmaid and maid of honor dresses were different styles in different shades of green. Gemma was your maid of honor, Sarah was a bridesmaid, and Mia was a bridesmaid. Fitz was Harry's best man, Mitch a groomsman and Niall was the other groomsman. That was it. You had Harry's ring in one of the hidden pockets of your dress, and H had yours. Harry smiled, almost laughed when you started practically waddling down the sand. You kept your vows simple and standard. And when the officiant finally declared you husband and wife, you cried into the kiss you shared with Harry. "Those better have been happy tears lovie, because you are stuck with me." H whispered after the kiss. "They're always happy tears when I'm with you H." "Where are we going?" You ask Harry, not recognizing the streets the driver is on. "Somewhere special." Harry replies with a smirk. "H, just tell me." You whine. "Civita di Bagnoregio. We've got an hour and 45 minute drive, so go ahead and take a little nap, I'll wake you when we get there." "Why are we going there instead of going back to the villa we rented." You ask. "I'll explain when we get there, but for now, just rest." H answers and kisses the top of your head. "Fine." You relent and succumb to the rhythmic movements of the car. "Lovie, we're almost there, wake up darling." Harry whispers.
"Hmmm?" You ask tiredly. "Civita di Bagnoregio, also known as the dying city. I finalized a purchase on a home there in late June of last year. Bought it to surprise you, but then we got busy and I just held onto the secret. So now it's your wedding present." "That's an extravagant present, even for you. And why is it called the dying city?" "There's only 11 houses left in the city. And while it is a bit of a tourist destination, it's also quiet and isolated." H answers your question and you smile. "Quiet and isolated, I like the sounds of that." You say and feel baby Styles kick in excitement as well. "And so does Baby Styles." You add and Harry is quick to feel. Giving you his big, dimpled smile the entire time. Baby Styles' kicking has become one of his favorite things in the world. "Good thing I have your present hidden as well then." You squeal as Harry starts tickling your tummy to get another reaction from the baby. When you get inside the house, it's beautiful and you have this amazing view of Italy. H carries you inside, and up the stairs to the master suite which takes up almost the entire second floor. The second floor balcony shows off the views even better than the first floor terrace. Harry has some of it already decorated, but a little of it is still just the basics, his mattress, a hand carved bed frame with matching end tables and a matching television stand. A nice plush chaise in the corner. "I didn't want to decorate too much without you." H comments as you take in the room. "No, I love it, really H. C'mere." You respond. He makes his way to you and you pull him in by his tie for a deep kiss. "Oh. MMMM!" H moans into the kiss. He slides his arms around your back to undo the lace-ups on the dress. You skip the tie and go straight to unbuttoning his shirt, before shoving both the jacket and the shirt off his shoulders. "Eager, are we?" H asks you with a smirk. "Cause you aren't?" You snark back. "I never said it couldn't be mutual." "Oh just shut it and take off the rest of this damned suit, I prefer my husband without clothes. "That feeling is also mutual, my wife." When H let's the shoulders on your dress fall away and take the rest of your dress with it, he finds a new blush pink lingerie set that you had made for this occasion. Harry still thinks you wanted to be 'surprised' by the gender of the baby, but actually, you've been sitting on this one since your 23rd week of pregnancy. When you found out, you laughed, it reminded you of Harry's X-factor audition. And you thought he'd enjoy a spicy reveal. "Fucking Stunning." "I hope you like your present." "The new set? I fucking love it." "I was debating between this color and a baby blue but I decided I liked the pink." You say and look at him. He still doesn't seem to be quite getting it, but he's getting closer. "Surprise." You add and that's when it all clicks for him. "We're having a baby girl?!" He asks, just to confirm. "Mhmm." "Isn't she lovely, made from love." He sings and you laugh. "That's what I thought about too, right away when I found out." You tell H. "And when exactly did you find out?" "23 weeks. So a little over 10 weeks ago. "I suppose that's fair when I've been sitting on this, the house for long enough. But no secrets or surprises for the next baby." "Next baby? What next baby?" You reply laughing.
"I Can See You're Lonely Down There"
It's May 9th, one day before you officially hit full term. You and H both like the name Belle, and have agreed that it should be short for something, but can't decide on Annabelle or Isabella. "H? What about Arabella with Belle for short?" You ask. "I like that. Arabella Eleanor Styles. Though she'll be Belle to us." "Are we agreed then? Finally?" "I do believe we are. Now give me a few minutes. I gotta go call my cousin Ben to say happy birthday." Harry left the room to go outside and talk to Ben. But then your water breaks, and H is still outside on the phone. "HARRY!" You flat out scream to get his attention. "BABY. COMING. NOW." H hangs up the call immediately and gets towels and your go bag and the two of you get into the new Jaguar F-Pace SUV Harry bought for your family car. And by bought he means customized, it was built for you. It's all tricked out with every cool feature imaginable, and you picked the color, Petrolix Blue. You make it to the hospital in record time, thanks to Harry's careful yet super speedy driving. And after nine grueling hours of being in labor, Arabella Eleanor Styles is born. She has messy curls like her father, but in the same color as your hair. You got two days of observation, just because they wanted to see if Belle's weight would go up a bit. Which it did. So with that, you and Harry were parents with a newborn and you got all the gifts that come with it. Sleepless nights, loud crying and screaming, constant diaper changes. You and Harry spent whatever little time you had cleaning up the place constantly. It was hell for both of you, but at the same time it was amazing. Little Belle was usually a happy baby, she just needed her feedings, her naps, and her playtime on schedule. But once the schedule got messed up, she was not a happy baby. Not at all. Harry once called her a demon when her schedule got off by less than three minutes and she was cranky.
"Don't You Know That I Am Right Here"
It was one of Belle's cranky days. Harry had meetings almost the entire day yesterday, and you were absolutely exhausted because she was cranky yesterday too. You got up to feed her on time this morning, then tried to put her back down but she was having none of it. As her crying intensified, Harry was quick to your side and took her from your arms. "S'okay baby Belle, daddy's right here." H whispered to her and she calmed to sleep almost right away. "How?" Is all you asked when the two of you retreated to the safety of the master suite. "She just missed her daddy yesterday. She doesn't love you any less, it had just been too long without me. You get pretty cranky when I'm gone for too long as well, so don't blame her." He teases. "You just lost out on morning nap sex." You answer and climb back into bed. "Come here Palmer." You called quietly and the dog was quick to settle at your back. "M'wife and the dogs are ganging up on me." Harry chuckles and settles in as close to you as Palmer will allow. Harry did lose out on morning nap sex, but he had made up for it by the time evening nap was here and so you went along with evening nap sex. Before also having night night sex. Evening nap was usually cuddle time and snack time, but as it turned out, you had to admit to yourself that H was right, you were cranky without morning nap sex, it had been too long since you felt him inside you, and your body was demanding you fix it.
"Spinning Out, Waiting For You To Pull Me In"
Belle was having a day at Grandma Anne's, and you and Harry were downstairs in the studio almost the entire day. You and H were singing some of Belle's favorite lullabies to record and be able to have for if either of you had to be gone overnight. She loved it when the two of you sang for her together. She also loved watching videos of her daddy dancing on stage. She would try to stomp her tiny foot whenever you played satellite and it just made the both of you smile. "H, I miss her." You whined. "Me too, lovie." He replied. "Can we call your mum and go get her early?" "Sure if you want to make my mum upset. You know she doesn't like it when she has to give Belle up, and that's when she's only had her for an hour. We promised her the entire day, she'll be pissed." "Harry Edward Styles, man up and tell your mum that we're picking Belle up early." "Or… you could call her and tell her." Harry suggests and you laugh. "Are you scared of your mum H?" "Lovie, my mum is downright terrifying when she's upset, she'll pretend she's not, but she'll guilt you into a lot of things before you figure it out. She almost guilted me into ending a tour early until I offered to fly her in instead." "Fine. Then what is your suggestion so we can take our minds off of how much we miss Belle?" H gives you a cocky, smirky smile and you immediately regret asking him. "That's an easy one. All we have to do is make another one." He answers and tugs you into him. You're both laughing but it quickly turns heated when you end up in his lap. Tongues tangled together, you grinding over his bulge. All while still in the studio. The one room in the house that you both swore was off limits for sex. H had a nap room across the hall for this exact reason. There was just too much equipment, all of it quite expensive in this room, plus more often than not, Harry had a few members of his band here when he was recording. "H, not in here remember." You whispered as he stood up and set you down on top of the back of the piano. "No one else is here today lovie." He reminded you, already attaching his lips to your cunt. "Gonna make you squirt all over this room, fucking ruin every piece of equipment in here, then I'm going to fuck you on every single surface of this room. Fuck you and fill you." Your only response was a mewl. A few days later, H and Belle were out running errands and you wandered down to the studio. You found yourself sitting in the nice chair by the computer all the recordings were on. And you were relistening to you and H singing 'You Are My Sunshine' for Belle. After the song finished, you heard the statement that started it all. 'H, I miss her.' you know that at that point you probably should've stopped listening and deleted the entire recording. But you kept going. H ruined you over and over again, and it all got recorded.
"There you are… oh." Harry interrupted the little session. "Is that??" "Yeah, apparently we forgot to turn off the mics." The two of you laugh about it. "I swear, this better not ever end up as something that somehow ends up in one of your songs, ever." You say to him, knowing his track record. "Now why would I share the noises you make when we fuck, with my fans? Those are for my ears only." He responds. "So does that mean you'll let me hit the delete button?" You ask him. "Oh hell no. I never said I didn't want to keep it. We accidentally recorded ourselves having sex, it's fucking hot." He replied. "Then you should probably get over here and stop me." You say, teasing him. "Don't you even think about it!" He answers, sprinting over and pulling you away from the keyboard. "H, be real, we're not the ones usually on this computer." "That's why I have a folder that requires a finger scan to get into it." He answers and drags the file into said folder. "Now let's edit this part out and save the actual song with the other recordings we did. Kid is going to look at all of them tomorrow." You flush, thankful that you came down here today to check them yourself first. "Oh my God, what if he had found them?" You say, starting to hyperventilate. This, hitting way too close to what happened to you before your father died. "Lovie? Are you okay? What's wrong? Kid can't find it now, and he won't be able to find it." Harry says to you, wanting to just give you a hug. "DON'T FUCKING TOUCH ME!" You scream at him. "Lovie?" H says to you, officially worried. "LEAVE ME ALONE!" You say and bolt out of the studio. Harry is dumbfounded. He can't even figure out what the hell just happened.
"I Can See You're Lonely Down There"
(A/N: This section is mostly a flashback. It contains kidnapping, sexual abuse, physical abuse, mental abuse, verbal abuse, incest, drugs, forced rape, and multiple perpetrators, all of whom got away with their crime. Please do not read if any of this might be triggering to you. Skip to the next line of the song.)
You got into your old Camry that you loved and took off. H kept it in the other garage because you didn't want to get rid of it and have to drive one of his cars if he needed to take Belle somewhere. You found yourself driving back to a place you haven't been to since Harry came back into your life. Your dad's old warehouse. The warehouse holds your worst memory, and also was where you were held against your will for over a month. You arrive and walk inside. You own this building now, but haven't been able to bring yourself to demolish it. In fact it's actually been somewhere you go when you hate yourself.
-Flashback- Shortly after you returned to London after your initial breakup with Harry, your father found out you were back. It was the beginning of summer, and you had already decided to pursue law and enrolled for the upcoming fall term. You were in the studio apartment you rented initially, sleeping. Your apartment was broken into and before you could put up a fight, you were drugged and fell unconscious. When you woke up, your legs were cuffed to a chain which was welded to a loop on the concrete floor. Your hands tied together with rope, on the floor next to you was a bottle of water and a small bowl of crackers. There was a metal door about 10ft in front of you, and on the other side you heard voices. One of which you were able to identify as your father's. -end flashback-
When you parked the car and walked inside the warehouse, you saw your dried blood on the walls, the box of tools you used to cut yourself, and the old scarf you used to use to try and choke yourself. The only room in this warehouse you haven't been back inside is the one at the end of the hall. The one where you were videotaped without your consent.
-Flashback- Your father opened the door and entered the room, a sick smile plastered on his face. He was happy seeing you chained up, thought it served you right for defying him. He walked over to you and slapped you across the face. "Hello Daughter." He said to you. You couldn't answer. you were too disgusted and shocked to say anything. "ANSWER ME YOU DUMB BITCH!" Your father screamed at you. Still you couldn't find anything to say. Your father pulled a whip down from the wall across from you and hit your arm with it. "I SAID ANSWER ME!" "Hi…F…Father." You choked out. He whipped you again, on your other arm this time. "YOU ARE A DUMB, STUPID BITCH Y/N!" Again he whipped you, this time on your leg. "If you won't marry as I told you to, then you'll mother my male heir." He added with a whip to your other leg, before exiting the room. After he left, another man came in and you let him inject you, knowing it would be stupid to fight it. You passed out again after the injection and the next time you woke up, you were naked and spread out on a bed, arms and legs cuffed to metal posts. There was a single light, and two cameras. "Excellent, you're awake." Your father said through one of the cameras. "Now, George is going to come into your room and penetrate you, while I watch. If he enjoys you, and you finally agree to marry him then I am willing to let that be the end of this. Otherwise tomorrow it won't be George penetrating you, it will be me." He says and clicks off so you can't hear him anymore. About a minute later the door opens and you once again come face to face with the ugly Viscount your father tried to force you into marrying. When you saw that there would be no condom used, you felt the tears welling up, and you cried as he forced his way into you, without preparing you. The worst part of it though was after he came inside of you, he wedged something under you so that his semen would not be able to drip out. After an hour you were led back to your previous room. You tried to fight this time, hoping you would be able to hit him right and run, but instead a needle ended up in your neck, and you went limp. You woke up again that night, were forced to eat something, and drink water. After which you received another injection. When your father came to ask you if you changed your mind, you said no. You would not allow your father to control you the way he wanted. He forced a cup of tea down your throat, slapped you across the face again and left. You felt woozy and passed out again. You were in the room with the bed again, still chained down and naked. The only difference was that your father was in the room with you, and you noticed that one of the cameras was turned off. "Fucking take it, if you want to be a whore, then I will treat you like a fucking whore." Your father said to you as he filled you with his semen. Day after day, multiple times a day, your father penetrated you. After a month and you were showing no signs of pregnancy, you were given another injection, this one different from the others. You lost track of time, you weren't given anything to do, you had no contact with the outside world.
When they quit tying your hands though, you started to punch the concrete wall until your fingers bled. And eventually they started tying your hands again so that you couldn't. You don't remember how you got out, you just remember that you were alone, and someone rescued you out of there, and took you back to your studio apartment. You don't remember what the man looked like, but you do remember it was a man. When you woke up, you were back in your studio apartment. You tried to take the statement to the police, they wouldn't listen, you even tried to tell your mother, but she wouldn't answer your calls or letters. You blocked it from your memory and threw yourself into school. Which led you to where you are now. Back in that horrendous warehouse. Your father had sold it right away, and you tracked it down and bought it. It was the first purchase you made after you were hired at the firm. And you just hoped that someday you'd be able to let go of that event. -end flashback-
You sat down on the floor in the room you ate in, and just cried.
"Don't You Know That I Am Right Here"
(A/N: There are some more references made to the incident in this section, but mostly it's just Y/N revisiting the incident with Harry before finally moving on. Again please skip if you find these events triggering.)
Harry had been worried, hell he's currently terrified, he's on his way to the warehouse after Anne arrived to watch Belle. He knows he probably shouldn't have put a tracking device in your car, but he couldn't help it, he just wanted to make sure you were safe. You don't know that Harry is the reason you got rescued from the warehouse. Or that it was Harry himself who actually rescued you. Harry had regretted cheating on you instantly and even tried to find you, but when your father answered your phone, he had a bad feeling. So he hired a private investigator and got you out of there himself. He also made a deal with your father to drop it and not let it get out. After that he went back to his music, he knew you still hated him and he knew Anne would give him updates on how you were doing. But in the present moment, all he could think about was getting to you, and apologizing. He knows he doesn't have the full story. But he's okay with that. "Y/N?" You hear Harry's voice ask when he gets to you. "How did you find me?" You asked him. "I had a tracking device installed in your old Camry." He answered. "I also think I should tell you, finally." "Tell me what?" "I'm the reason you got out of this place way back when. I was calling you to apologize for the millionth time when your father answered your phone and I just got this bad feeling, so I hired a private investigator to find you and then I got you out of here myself. I knew you probably still hated me so I just took you back to your apartment and left again." "You? You're the man that saved me? How did I not recognize you though?" "Well, you were extremely drugged up for one." Harry answered. "I thought I had finally let it go H." You cried and hit the wall again. "Hey, it's ok. It was traumatic. You don't have to ever be okay with what happened or let it go. All you have to do is lean on me, and I will help, however I can. Because I love you, and we're in this together. You know I have shit too. But we can lessen the weight of each other's shit when we shoulder it together." "Can I tell you?" You asked H, no longer wanting to shoulder it yourself. "I would love that." "Well, this is the room I spent all the time I wasn't being raped in. These spots are from where I would hit the wall until my knuckles would bleed. My feet were chained to that loop, and usually my hands were tied. I was force fed and forced to drink, and was usually injected with something that would put me to sleep. Whenever they had to move me except once, I was knocked out." You explained, H just sat next to you and let you go at your own pace. When you stood up to go face the room for the first time, you took his hand. "Don't let go. I can't face this one on my own." "Promise."
So you led him to the end of the hall and opened the door. "This is the room where I was raped. My hands and feet were chained to the posts." You said slowly. You didn't know how to feel, you were just thankful that Harry never let go. After you finished in the room you took him out to the main area and showed him the rest of it. The blood spots, the tool box, the scarf, everything. He still never once let go. Finally, after you were done explaining everything, you felt a little bit lighter. "Do you feel better?" H asked you, you nodded. "Think you'd be okay with demolishing this building, or would you rather do something good with it?" "Both. Demolish this one and build something good in its place." You answered. "I like that idea even better lovie." So that's what the two of you decided to do. Harry gave you a hug, and you rode back with him, he called someone to have them pick up your car and take it back to the house.
"Right Here, Right Here"
Belle was growing right in front of your eyes, you felt like just yesterday she was born and now, well, tomorrow is her first birthday. She's spoiled in all capital letters, and well, you found a shirt that says just that. 'SPOILED! by my daddy!' and you laughed so hard you had to get it for her. You also got her a giant plush unicorn. But that was it. You knew Harry had at least 10 giant presents for her, so you didn't feel the need to pull out all the stops. But her day was perfect, she was happy, and she loved the giant unicorn even more than Calleigh, the cat Harry bought her. She went to sleep that night without a fuss and slept soundly the entire night and into the next day, until you finally took her out of bed at noon. "Just like your father, little Belle, you like your beauty sleep." You whispered to her, gently waking her up. Just over six months later, you found out you were pregnant with your second child. Harry was ecstatic, and the two of you were discussing when and how to tell Belle (not that she would understand the concept). You decided to take her and Mia to your next appointment, so she could actually see it, and then Mia would watch her while you finished your appointment. She was very excited. That is until Henry Joseph Styles was actually born, and she realized she wasn't the only kid anymore. But you and H still loved her just as much, and more everyday.
"Spinning Out Waiting For Ya"
Belle continued to grow and grow and grow. Her third and fourth birthdays flew by, it was six weeks before her fifth birthday. And Henry had turned two a few months prior. You and Harry continued to have a very active, very healthy sex life, between Anne, Desmond, Gemma, and your mum, you and Harry had no issues finding a babysitter for a weekend when you wanted to go somewhere or just stay home with a bit of quiet. But a weekend was as long as you could go. You both missed your kids way too much. Your first trip to Italy as a family of four was the best vacation you had ever had. You rented a villa in Venice. The kids loved the water, and they loved it even more when Mia dropped in to take them back to London. You and Harry stayed for an extra few days before heading home as well. The two of you went to Greece by yourselves for your first ever full week away from the kids. On your last night, Harry fucked you on the terrace. He didn't care who could see or hear, he just had this animalistic need to be inside you. That primal need of his resulted in the conception of your twin boys.
"I'm Here, Right Here"
Harry had to go to the US for a month, it was something that he could no longer put off and they refused to let him do it via video call. It was the month-long event where it would be decided what songs would make his next album and they only had 106 songs to go through with how successful you and he have been with writing. Three days before he was scheduled to return, you went into labor and he was halfway around the world. When Anne called him he dropped everything and took the jet back to England immediately. It was no more than an hour between when he found out and when the jet took off.
"Wishing I Could Be There For Ya"
The flight was long and Harry full on sprinted through the hospital to get to your side, his duffel over his shoulder. When he finally reaches your hallway, he hears a cry, your cry. By this point you had been in labor for nearly 12 hours. You were not in a good mood. "Lovie." Harry said immediately upon reaching you. "Where the fuck have you been for the last twelve fucking hours?" You pant. "On a plane, praying I wouldn't miss it." "So it's your fault. I hate you. We are never having sex ever again. EVER." You say and Harry actually laughs. "Whatever you say Lovie. Now what can I do?" "Carry your own children." You reply. "Y/N, it's time to start pushing." Your OBGYN says and Harry takes a deep breath, making sure he is ready to help do whatever. It only took an additional four hours, but at the end of it, you had two baby boys, Charlie Mikael Styles and Colt Jameson Styles.
"Be There For Ya, Be There For Ya, For Ya, (For Ya), (Be There For Ya)"
Your first year with the twins was rough. When one started crying the other followed shortly after. It didn't help matters that Harry's new album was being hyped up and he couldn't do much to help you between the interviews and meetings and actual studio sessions. Plus with the talks of another huge world tour, big enough to rival LOT, he had to interview and see if he could vibe with replacements for both Mitch and Sarah who decided not to tour again while Scout was in school. He was also worried about Belle, could you guys find a way to keep up on her education while being on tour with him full time? Would you even want to join him on tour? He came in late one night, you were on the main floor with the twins, Belle and Henry were both upstairs in their rooms, sleeping. "Charlie and Colt, still not down yet?" He asked, taking Colt from you so you could focus on Charlie. "Silly boys, don't you know sleep is a wonderful thing?" He asks Colt. "Clearly not, I know I value sleep though. Now more than ever." You reply. The twins finally go down and you and Harry make your escape. "Are you awake enough for a quick fuck? Everyone was pushing all my fucking buttons today and I just need you, so fucking bad." "Tomorrow? I'm just so fucking tired right now H. I can't keep up, I'm a full time mom and I can't even look at the files I've needed to flip through for months now." "I'm sorry baby, you know I'd rather be here. London pop-up shows can only hold off the label for so long. They want another LOT. Actually they want something bigger than LOT." "I know H, I know, but how will Belle keep up with football (soccer) practice? And school? And fuck, I'm just even more exhausted thinking about it. I can't parent by myself H, I just can't." You start to cry. "Ssh, it's ok lovie, it's ok. We'll figure something out. Now come on, let's get you into bed, I'll take a shower and then I can just hold you." H assures you. "Okay. I really do need a fucking tomorrow though, need to feel closer to you, but just too tired tonight." You reply almost whining. "I'll cancel everything for tomorrow then and we can pawn the kids off on my mum, and then we can have a naked day." H says as he tucks you into bed.
"Spinning Out Waiting For Ya To Pull Me In, (Spinning Out Waiting)"
A world tour with four kids and another one on the way was a challenge. But it was a challenge you came to realize that you were happy to accept because it meant that you and the kids wouldn't be without Harry, and he would not have to be away from you and the kids. Something he didn't know if he could do. You had found out you were pregnant yet again only ten days before you were leaving. The tour, nicknamed HOT, which stands for Home On Tour, was a reference to how Harry knew he would feel at home with you and the kids on tour with him. The H•S Dassault Falcon 10x was loaded, enough toys, and clothes, and snacks, and everything else a small army might need for a ten or eleven hour flight. H chartered a second jet for his crew and band, this one was just you, him, the kids, Anne, and Mia. The kids enjoyed the plane, and napped through a lot of it. You and H got a couple of hours each, but nothing major like you would have preferred. You and Harry were taking a little break from the kids in the plane's bedroom and reminiscing about love on tour. "Also, where's my Madrid fit? Oh, and my SLANE fit, I wanted to keep that one!" He asks knowing that they are all hidden in the room you turned into an office at the house. The one room he doesn't have the code for because of the sensitive files you keep under tight lock and key.
"Those are also mine, SLANE, since you didn't let me keep the finger off the statue we broke while fucking in the gardens." "In all fairness, you did make that jacket look really fucking good. I think Lambert wanted to ditch me to style you at that point. That was a day!" "That was a fucking day indeed." You reply cornily knowing one of you would've said it. Harry captures your lips in a long deep kiss as the two of you continue to reminisce about LOT. And when the plane landed, everyone was quick to exit the plane and you were all whisked away in the Humhum-mo as Colt so wonderfully called the Hummer style Limo that you were all riding in. It was about perfect timing for another baby though, because the ending of the entire American leg, would line up with your 35 week mark, and unless baby Styles number 5 decides to take their sweet time, you're looking at being on the three week break before Asia and Oceania, a three week timeline for baby Styles number 5 to make his or her appearance. Hopefully, fingers crossed, but if he or she doesn't, Harry is planning on taking your OBGYN with you. You just arrived in Los Angeles, getting ready for the US part of the American leg. Harry flew in your OBGYN so the two of you could still get the gender reveal when you wanted. You didn't have nearly as much morning sickness with this pregnancy as you did during your previous three. Henry's was probably the worst. On the single day break between nights 1-3 and 4-10 of the LA shows. You and Harry were in one room, with Anne, Mia, and the kids in an adjoining room. You were laying on the bed, the ultrasound cart next to you. Harry was sitting in a chair when your OBGYN knocked. H let her in, and the two of you found out you were having a baby girl. You both thanked her and went back to the other room while she packed up her cart and headed back to the airport for her return to London. Belle was skeptical, Henry was excited, and the twins were too little to care. They seemed to understand that there would be another baby though. Which sounds about right for a 9 year old, a 6 year old, and twin 2 year olds. And well, you were feeling old yourself at 42, Harry was 39, and you two were somehow going to do the whole newborn thing all over again.
"I Can See You're Lonely Down There"
You were in Vegas for three full weeks, a total of 18 shows, and a lot of drunk Harry moments. You don't know which is more attractive to you, drunk Harry or high Harry. They are both extra loving and extra handsy. You're not exactly the biggest fan of the stench from either one, but you prefer cannabis to beer. Although if he's drunk on whiskey or scotch, well, you'd lick that off his lips and drink it out of his mouth if you weren't currently pregnant. The night of the last show, after everyone but you is drunk off their asses, Harry suggests everyone go to the casino inside the hotel. Yeah, not very smart. Especially when he offers to cover the expense. You look at him. "H, I'm going to go upstairs and relieve your mum from kid duty." You say, ready to go to bed. "Baby, no, you're my good luck charm, need you to play with me, just 15 minutes, ok baby, promise." He begs you and you agree. An hour later and well, you're ok with staying because you kinda have been quite the good luck charm. Harry hit a few small jackpots, and you were lucky on the roulette tables. You played craps, and then went back to the slots for a bit. At 90 minutes you were ready to call it, both of you were currently ahead, by quite a bit actually, but your feet were killing you, and you were starting to get a headache from the lights and sounds. "H, can we please go upstairs now? Wanna love on you and get off my damned feet. 'Sides m'soaked from watching you win." "Yeah baby, need me to make it better?" He asks and you know that using sex is probably the only way you're getting him back into the suite. Not that you mind of course, you really are soaked, and feeling rather desperate for a good dicking from H. "Please. Please make it better Daddy, just need your cock so fucking bad Daddy, y'cock's the only thing that will make it better, want you to fuck me, and come all over my belly, Daddy, can you do that for me please?" "Shit baby, let's go. Into the damn elevator baby, y've got m'cock hard f'ya already baby." He whispers, tugging you along. You're struggling to keep up, but he knows that and makes it easier for you by slowing down a bit, using your body as a shield to hide his erection. Which only serves to work you up that much more.
As it all turns out, baby Styles number 5 didn't want to wait, and joined your family just two days into the three week break. McKenna Elizabeth Styles with her long, dark, curly hair and eyes the same color as yours, was the very definition of a perfect baby. She cried twice in the entire rest of the three week break. Even after getting back on the road she was an angel, to her it didn't matter as long as she got to see her daddy every night. Harry would put her down while you wrangled the other 4. Belle was always helpful, usually reading a story to the twins while you tucked Henry in.
"Don't You Know That I Am Right Here"
"Happy Anniversary you two!" Lorraine and Andrew said when they arrived at the little soiree you and Harry were having. "This is from all of us." Fitz added and handed you the envelope. You tore into it right away, like a kid on Christmas. "Oh, OH, OH MY!" You said as you read the short message not one, not two, but three times. "Harry, they're going to keep an eye on the kids for two whole weeks while spoiling us in Italy!" You say and show him. "Just don't wreck the boat." Andrew asks of the two of you.
"Promise. We'll be careful with the boat." The two of you head out the next day, making sure to say goodbye to the kids before you leave. The only one upset about you leaving is McKenna, but as soon as she sees her Uncle Fitz she's perfectly fine. You and Harry spend the first day just relaxing in the house, enjoying your first naked day together in just over 5 years. "Fuckin 'ell, you're always so tight." Harry cursed as he fingered you, opening you up for him. "And wet," he adds after a quick slurp. "Just for you daddy." The two week trip was composed of mostly naked days, and a lot of you and Harry going at each other like teenagers who don't understand hormones, but that was just how strong the bond between you and Harry was. There was no problem that a good hash out session followed by some very, very thorough makeup sex couldn't fix. That and the fact that both of you have high sex drives is likely the cause of you and H returning to London with Baby Styles number 6 on the way. You later found out that this one was a boy, and you and Harry decided on naming him Kaiden Lincoln Styles.
"Spinning Out, Waiting For Ya (for ya, for ya) To Pull Me In (for ya)"
After Kaiden Lincoln Styles was born, you looked at Harry. "No. No more, I'm done, you hear me? DONE! NO MORE KIDS!" You give him the stern voice so he understands just how serious you're being right now. "Babylove, that's what you said after Henry, and the twins, and McKenna." Harry responds, laughing. "I will chop your balls off myself if I have to H. We are done having children, I'm too old for this." "Lovie, you're only 48, and we are very healthy, we go for runs together, ride bikes, box, and keep our diets in very good shape. We'll be fine, but if it will make you feel better, I'll get myself fixed so I can still fuck you, because we don't usually last long without sex. You're an extremely hot mumma and I am more in love with you now, than I was the day we got married.
"I Can See You're Lonely Down There"
Your 91st birthday. You never thought you'd make it this far. But here we are. Old and wrinkly, and to Harry you're still sexy. And well he's still sexy in your eyes as well. So maybe you're both losing your eyesight, but oh well. The love the two of you have for the other is still just as strong, if not stronger than it used to be. The two of you provide the laughs for the in house caretakers your children insisted upon since Harry says he's dying in this house. When he officially retired from music at the young age of 72, he could still enchant a crowd like it was nobody's business. 18 studio albums, 14 time Grammy winner, and 15 world tours. But that is his music legacy. Belle, Henry, Charlie, Colt, McKenna, and Lincoln are his real legacy. Your six wonderful young children who are all grown ass adults with messy curls like their father. Colt is practically a carbon copy of Harry, Charlie is too, it's like they got zero of your DNA and all of Harry's.
Belle is a best-selling author, Henry produces music, Charlie works in tech, Colt took after you, he works in law, and McKenna took after Harry, she is quite the worldwide sensation, and the queen of the next generation of music, her king and husband, just so happens to be Taylor Swift's youngest son, Evan who is also quite the musician like his mother. Your youngest, Kaiden, is a world renowned surgeon in every area of the field. He can do the trickiest of procedures flawlessly.
You know in your heart your children will be alright. So when you close your eyes and take your last breath, you are happy. Harry, well, he's absolutely distraught. Downright refused to take care of himself. It took a special kind of interaction with a long-time fan, to make him realize that he still has a reason to be alive. You inspired and wrote or co-wrote quite a few of his most important, most special songs over his long career. He wrote, recorded, and released one final EP, exactly a year after you died. It was emotional and told the entire story of your relationship. And exactly what you meant to him.
"Don't You Know That I Am Right Here"
Harry made it through two whole years without you by his side, but when you came calling back, he was ready to follow you anywhere. "You look a little lonely H. I'm right here, waiting for you. I'd wait forever for you H, but I think you're ready to let go too. Come find me again my love. I'm here, spinning out and waiting for you to pull me back and into your arms once again." With that Harry opened his eyes, turned to his children who were with him and said, "Look after each other, I'll see you again when the time is right, treat people with kindness, I love you more than you'll ever know." He finished his little speech, closed his eyes once again, took his final breath and pulled you into his arms, for eternity.
Thank you So So So much for reading! I hope you enjoyed. Please Like, Comment, and/or Reblog. I appreciate all of it! and again a little reminder that if you are interested in seeing the inspiration post, to let me know via comment or dm or add it through a reblog.
Thanks Again!
Love Ya's
-Ava
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@lilfreakjez , @yeehawbrothers , @hermionelove
TO MY TUMBLR FRIENDS THAT I HAVE PROBABLY ANNOYED BY ASKING TOO MANY QUESTIONS!
@gurugirl (Queen G, for being my guide to everything tumblr, especially when I have no clue what i'm doing, and because PRIESTRRY never ever fails to put me in a smutty kinda mood.) , @lukesaprince (because you have an amazing perspective that I always love hearing and because RICHRRY makes me Happy) , @fkinavocado (Dreea for always keeping it real, , and for just being fking amazing! And because CANDYMAN HARRY has me feeling licorice allsorts of things) , @freedomfireflies (for encouraging me, and for always checking up on me) , @tiredinwinter (because I Can't wait to see what part speaks to you and your art the most!, And also for being quite literally one of the sweetest people I've had the privilege of talking to on Tumblr!) , @watchmegetobsessed (for being the reason I first went down the Harry styles fanfiction rabbit hole!)
#harry styles#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles x reader#harry styles imagine#harrystyles#harry styles x y/n#hstyles#satellite stompers#satellite#lawyer!reader#songwriter!y/n#hs song fic#hstylesfic#hspleasing#hslot#harry styles smut#love on tour#harry styles fanfic#harry styles fic#matilda#boyfriend!harry#dadrry#puppies#pet lovers#avalentina#avalentinawrites#return of ava#avaposted#inspiration#harry styles love on tour
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I love your fanfic!!! I love how soft and cute the 1897 gang are!!!!!! Aksbaksbakaksmsksksns 🥺💕
What are some plans you have for the fic? Will there be any lgbt or neurodiverse headcanons in the fic?
AWEE YAY THANK YOU!! 💕💕 This means so much I got so happy seeing this notification aaa!! I’m glad you love the 87 boys,,
Also aa thank you for asking! (this. Turned into such a long answer I’m so sorry for rambling AHA)
One big plan I feel comfortable talking about is that I am going to send the remaining 2012 boys to Rise soon! I feel like that’s not too spoilery, both because it’s something that will happen soon and something that was kind of inevitable pfft. I have some cute moments for them to all get to bond, I have a big overarching plot and stakes I want to introduce? But I also really just want to have a ton of fun moments and focus on everyone getting to know each other. I want to try write interactions or dynamics I haven’t seen been done much yet, so hopefully I deliver! (I actually scripted out a 12!Raph and Rise!Leo scene for in future this morning pfft)
Another thing I guess there’s no harm in saying is that I want 87!Shredder and 87!Krang to really play a main part in this! They’re the versions of those characters I find the most fun/easy to write, so at least for the beginning stages they’re going to be focused on antagonistic forces. I just think they’re so goofy I love their dynamic sooooo much, and they fit my writing style perfectly! So expect them in future eheh
That’s not to say Rise and 2012 villains won’t get a centre focus at any point though! Rise has such a fun rogues gallery and with 2012, I really want to play with the domino affect, I mean taking the turtles out of the picture right before so many major things has gotta have some consequences~ (they don’t even know April’s part Krang yet…)
When it comes to LGBT headcanons, I do definitely have some! Technically?? I think I’ve already said that everyone is somewhere on the aroace spectrum (especially the Rise turtles) I also find the idea of 2012!Donnie and 2012!Leo being nonbinary in some form sweet, so I will probably have little moments about that scattered through the fic! (Also I think it would be really funny if 2012 Leo and Dee both went to other universes and then when they finally reunite they’re both not cis anymore. Spider-man pointing meme the dimensional radiation took their fucking gender-) I typically don’t think too much about this kind of thing though, I’m someone who’s LGBT+ that doesn’t bother too much with labels for themself so it’s honestly kind of hard for me to put fictional characters in a box too-but everyone definitely is in someway! That’s the best I can answer that probably
TLDR: They’re all loser teenagers who haven’t realllyyy figured themselves out yet, but they’re all pretty comfortable with whatever their identities might be, so for now they’re just gonna focus on saving the world HA
As for the neurodivergent side of things, again the whole main cast definitely is!! We all knew that though ♥️ AHSAJHA I can find traits from my own diagnosis in basically all of them, so they’re all on the spectrum! Sobs sorry this is another pretty broad answer-so to list someeeee?
I’m definitely writing all four 87 turtles and 2012!April and 2012!Raph with being autistic in mind! 2012!Donnie as well, but also apparently he does canonically has OCD?? I don’t 100% know if that’s canon, but I will be keeping that in mind while writing him as someone who also has it. 2012!Leo I headcanon along those lines too-it-see this is why it’s hard for me to answer none of these kids are neurotypical in my mind-
Sorry these were such non answers AHA, I guess the easiest answer is yes there is? But I’m genuinely happy with them all being up for interpretation! I won’t be enforcing many of my headcanons on the story really, just writing what feels natural, so you guys can interpret them however you want from there! I don’t really want to lock anyone in because I don’t want to stop people from being able to see them in ways that make them happy same as they can for the original shows
#♥️♥️♥️!! thank you for asking!!#gosh I need a tag for this fic don’t I. WHY did I make the title so long#for future reference AU
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1, 8, 11 for the ask game?
lmao sorry for reblogging an ask game and then not responding for a full 24 hours
Where does your literary inspiration come from? Do you have a favorite writer/writing style that you learn from?
hmmm this one is hard I try my hardest to emulate the style of whatever fandom I'm writing for but when it's a medium that isn't purely written I fall back on the style of contemporary adult fiction idk I'm kinda a style sponge and I'm still working on developing my own
8. How long have you been writing?
Since like 7th grade?? I used to write terrible but typical stories for a middle school student in my notes app and send them to my friend group's group chat. Eventually, I started posting original fiction on wattpad in early high school and then fanfic there as well and then I moved on to ao3 thank god
11. Give us an excerpt of your current WIP!
Ooooh I'm writing an Webb movies Peter and MJ fic so this is a part of their first meeting
Peter looks around and sees a massive frat guy shoving a drink toward a tiny redhead girl. She’s trying to squirm out of his grasp but he won’t let go no matter how hard she insists and Peter’s spidey sense is narrowed in on that drink. Surging through the crowd just as the guy's hand sneaks up her skirt, Peter puts himself between the girl and the guy, spilling the drink in the process.
“What’s your problem, man?” the frat guy snarls, breath stinking with beer.
“She said no, asshole,” Peter says. He turns to cheek on the girl, but that bright red hair is already fading into the crowd as a swarm of girls huddle around her.
The frat guy grabs the front of his shirt, teeth bared and eyes hazy with booze. “I’m trying to get laid tonight, man, and you just cost me a hot piece of ass.”
“Maybe get laid with someone interested.” Peter shoves at the guy’s chest but with no real force. He remembers what he did to bullies after he first got his powers and he does not want a repeat of that, even if this guy deserves it.
“What like you?” The guy clutches Peter’s shirt tighter, a disgusted sneer on his face.
“Rapists aren’t exactly my type.” Peter grabs the hand clutched in his shirt and raises his other to knock the guy’s lights out, maybe take out a couple of teeth for good measure. Just as he raises his fist, someone grabs his arm and Peter freezes.
“Easy there, tiger,” another frat guy says. He’s dressed in the same cutoff muscle tank top typical of frat guys, but he doesn’t quite have the arms for it and the high crop of it is a striking choice. He’s got a red beanie barely holding down tight dark curls that fall to his shoulders. Even in the dim light, his dark skin is glowing, but not as bright as his easy smile.
“What’s going on here guys?” Tall dark and handsome asks. Peter opens his mouth to answer but finds his throat suddenly dry.
“This loser is trying to pick up my girl,” the first frat guy says.
“She’s not your girl—” Peter shoves him again, this time hard enough for him to stumble back “—she’s some poor girl that I stopped you from harassing.”
“Yeah?” Tall dark and handsome asks, eyebrow quirked. Peter expects him to take his fellow frat brother’s side, but he drops Peter’s fists.
“You’re just jealous you couldn’t score, you little fag—” Before the guy can finish his tirade, he recoils back from a swift punch to the nose.
Peter looks down at his hands, confused that he didn’t throw the punch, but suddenly another pair of hands is grabbing his. He looks into the face of tall dark and handsome, who is now shaking out his fist.
“Run,” he says, and Peter bolts after him.
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i just stumbled across far from my eyes and holy shit??? one of the most beautiful fics i’ve read in a WHILE. perfectly captures the clumsy and beautiful connection that occurs between friends all too often and how naturally those people fit into each other’s lives. i love when writing feels quiet. like when i read that the voice in my head was whispering as to not disturb this precious moment between two characters. i have so many wonderful things to say about your writing but i don’t know how to put it all into words. that fic made me forget i was reading. i hope you continue the series because i feel like writing like yours is hard to come across in any fandom AND in published writing.
hi sweet anon! (so sorry for not responding sooner, i've been super busy these past few days but every time i thought of your ask i'd get giddy inside)
thank you, thank you, thank you! writing is hard, and it sends me over the moon when readers let me know that the effect i wanted to achieve was achieved, especially with 'far from my eyes' because that was exactly what i wanted, those awkward and fumbling little steps of young love even if javi and the reader both knew each other for so long
and that idea of whispering?? i never thought about it like that and i've always struggled in trying to find how exactly to articulate the action and my thoughts in my writing without intruding on the scene or the flow of the words but not rambling on and on for hours at a time, now that i have a name to it, i'll definitely know what to be looking for when i keep writing
as for 'Don't Tell Me', i do plan on continuing it for sure but i first really do need to finish my finals for this semester as well as Narcos s3 (lol typical me to write for a show i haven't finished), and i have ideas for two marc spector series as well as a dieter bravo series, so it's merely a matter of me buckling down to write these four
i do have another javi oneshot (that i may or may not be extending into a little oneshot universe) right: here
and since i want to spread the love, i do think that your ask could just as well apply to these fanfic writers on tumblr, since i really do look up to them and their writing styles are ones i think heavily influence mine:
@softlyspector - the absolute gold tier standard of writing, she's got some great Joel and Din stuff, and i quite literally throw myself of cliffs for her writing and characterization (especially of the moon knight system, i still need to get around to reading Tales Untold and giving it the full reblogs it deserves)
@pennyserenade - i consider miranda as the javi p expert, in terms of just helping me dive into characters and motivations, she's absolutely amazing (there's a reason she's studying this stuff and it shows) extremely talented, i would die to have 'scenes from a marriage' series with javi p in a published, bound book
@mourningbirds1 - 'don't look and it won't hurt' is just *mwah* i can't even articulate my thoughts about how much i enjoy this series (and hopefully you'll see how much i really do love her story sometime soon) (also the sweetest person around, ok?)
as for published authors i read and look up to (in the same levels as the writers and the works i mentioned above: Sally Rooney, Margaret Atwood, John Steinbeck, Seamus Heaney, Samuel Beckett
and if i could name 'a swift pure cry' by Siobhan Dowd as well
anways nonnie sorry if this was rambly and just grammatically horrendous and not the answer you were looking for, but i wanted to let you know ab how warm and fuzzy this made me feel and extend that feeling to the lovely souls here as well and give you a little sneak peak into my future plans
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thank you for answering! and for reminding me about Flipnote, I miss that little thing. your OC is lovely btw! any honorable mentions to show?
No problem ! And thank you for the compliment !
Well, as for honorable mentions... I can't really show it because I'm not done with the designs of the characters yet, but I'm pretty proud of my Sonic.exe lore !
Long story short : I used to be obsessed with the Sonic.exe lore made by the writer of the OG Creepypasta, but in retrospect it had a bunch of issues, and when some gross news came out my infatuation broke off and I stopped revering this so-called "canon". Anyway, ever since I've been going hard on rewriting the Sonic.exe lore to use it in Léa's story.
The changes are in the designs, the names and a bunch of things.
First of all, I'm redesigning Exe and his Seven Guardians.
I haven't sketched everyone yet, but here's what I have so far :
It was important to me that each guardian get a unique quill style and that Gekido look like a hedgehog this time around (he originally looked like Knuckles and it was weird).
The Seven Guardians of X as they're typically called are beings created by Exe/X to assist him, and they all represent a human feeling. Yukubo is desire, Kofuku is happiness, Gekido is anger, Kito is faith/prayer, Aishu is sorrow, Kirai is hatred, and Kyofu is fear. I haven't made a lot of changes when it comes to the stories of the Guardians ; I just had to kinda make up my own personalities for them because the little things the OG creator showed is most likely lost now (it exist only in my memory now I guess).
Where things REALLY got the most changes was with the "Cult of X", as it's called in the OG lore.
In the OG lore and in my Sonic.exe lore, Exe has a cult on Earth which helps to spread his disks, cover up some of his deeds, etc. And that's basically the biggest similarity between those two lores... Mine doesn't even use the same name for the cult !
As an other OG lore rewriter pointed out, cults do not call themselves cults ; on the contrary they tend to call other groups the "real cults". And the rewriter made me admit that yeah, most people wouldn't want anything to do with the religion/cult of a malicious dark matter being so the cult needs a cover. So that's how I've started working on "Far Away GalaXy", my version of the Cult of X !
Its cover is an organization which provides help & support for abuse victims. It was created by Shannon Goldman, who is the leader of the cult, like it used to be in the OG lore before the OG writer brought up "Father". On the surface the group is well-liked, getting shootouts from many people, especially for their queer inclusiveness. The people who ask for help are called "Stars" and the method Far Away GalaXy therapists & staff use is centered over seven "core feelings" they call "Planets" in brochures : fear, sorrow, anger, hatred, desire, faith/hope and happiness... It rings a bell, doesn't it ? Without even bringing up the supernatural stuff in public, the group already starts to ease you into its core beliefs. Anyway, those feelings are seen as "normal parts of life" the abuse victims need to work on, in the order I've listed them. Think of it as something like the seven states of grief but for abuse victims and made by a cult.
Once someone gets very into Far Away GalaXy, they might be encouraged further into the core beliefs of the cult. It starts with hate of the Abrahamic religions, then a lesser opinion of mankind as a whole. Eventually members are invited to send a "special gift" to one of their abusers, and surprise surprise : it's a Sonic.exe disk ! Obviously things go as you'd expect once the person receives the disk ; and now the brainwashed member initially thinks they killed their abuser. But soon they're reassured as they are told about the eternity of souls, and the great love Lord X has for them. At this point, even if you want to leave, the cult has enough material to blackmail you and controls too much of your life anyway ; trying to denounce anything would turn you into Exe's next toy.
The religious rhetoric is that Exe is the Sun from a Far Away GalaXy that the humans need to reach with the Spaceship, a tool or being that Exe will use to take over Earth. The Guardians are Planets, Shannon is the Spaceship's Captain and the Satellite of the Yukubo (aka the Planet of Desire ; Satellites are subordinates of a Celestial Body (Planets, Sun) that are higher than regular humans), and the other members of the cult are the Crew. Exe is also called "Lord X" or just "X", and humans are to be his "toys". The Spaceship is eventually found, and it's... Léa, who would have guessed ! In case it wasn't clear, Léa are originally an Earthling ; they look like a hedgehog when they travel to Mobius or Exe's world (sometimes). Here's what they look like as a human (the blue one is their Far Away GalaXy fit) :
Contrary to what Léa expected, being the "key to salvation" of the cult of their boyfriend (yep, they're dating Exe) isn't fun at all. When Exe sends them to the USA under the guise of a year of leisure (Léa are French), right at the core of his cult, Léa thought it couldn't be hell, well probably weird but not horrible. Shannon Goldman seems very friendly to them at first, gifting them a binder and overall being supportive, but things get bad pretty soon. Not wanting Léa to feel important (as Shannon thinks they are just a human who are abusing their position of key to demand things from X since Léa have made Exe sign a contract to post-pone his takeover), Shannon starts to use more and more dehumanizing language when talking to/about Léa in religious situations. In this context she starts to only call them "the Spaceship", use it/its pronouns for them, and eventually always talk to them at the third person instead of saying "you". She says they are no-one, nobody, especially not to the Sun ; they are just a mere tool in her opinion, and once Exe will have taken over they will go "from nobody to nothing". She controls Léa's sleep and anxiety medication, making them more or less tired & upset depending of what she needs, control their internet usage, and even starts to physically abuse them. Léa do not have a license or even a car, they don't know much about living in the USA and have to rely on Far Away GalaXy for their housing and money in the USA, so they're really trapped. But what about Exe, why doesn't he help ? Well Exe has another moment of "I don't know what to do about loving a human", and he wants to keep up his status, so he just tells Léa to trust Shannon to do what's best for everyone. It really breaks Léa's spirit, but don't worry things eventually improve and they get to make Shannon regret her life choices when they get a surge of power after a certain event... And Exe apologizes to them, too.
There are other members of Far Away GalaXy that were in the OG lore but were originally never developed, like Lexi Violet or Lazarus.
Lexi is a strange girl who wears dark yet cute fashion and is rarely seen without her big cat plushie. She moves it around pretending to only report the words of the plush if she deems you to not be interesting enough to talk directly to ; she has a tendency to leave conversations if she deems they're "booooriiing". The cat stuff was already in the OG lore... Anyway, she's the main artists of the group ; she designs logos, merch and clothes for Far Away GalaXy. Sometimes she lets Léa assist her a bit. She is aware of the cult stuff, and feels curious about where things will go, not feeling any remorse about it. When Léa are desperate for someone to listen to them, Lexi call them selfish for complaining about what Shannon puts them through ; of course Léa feel even more hopeless after that.
Léa's basically only friend in Far Away GalaXy is Alice, Shannon's daughter, who is not even aware of most of the cult stuff. While Shannon is nicknamed "Mother" by a bunch of cult members (she really surrounds herself with people desperate for any kind of attention), Alice is the only person to officially be Shannon's daughter, as she was adopted by her as a child. Alice is no more than a year older than Léa, and very soft-spoken. They're just glad she still sees them as a person, even if they're not allowed to tell her about any of the cult stuff.
Wow that turned into a long ramble ! Sorry about that, by the way...
But I'm very proud of how I've reworked the OG lore, and made it fit in Léa's story. I'm reclaiming something that made me happy and I think it's cool ! It's not like the OG writer was getting any money from that, and I doubt most people even know who I'm talking about when I say "the OG writer/creator of Sonic.exe", plus he has left all of his social media soooo... I feel like I can reclaim that ! So many things in the OG lore weren't even created by the guy in question ; Lexi, Shannon, Lazarus, and Alice were created by other people... Talking about a "canon" Sonic.exe doesn't make much sense, especially not now, and gives too much credit to this one guy. But I'm getting off-topic...!
Anyway I hope it wasn't too tedious to read ! Thank you for giving me an excuse to ramble again !
#berry weird paracosm#berry replies#Far Away GalaXy#Shannon Goldman#Lexi Violet#Léa Acorn#Alice Goldman#Sonic.exe#berry sweet asks#abuse mention#cult mention
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Hey! This is the person that did the inquisitor request. I just wanted to say I didn’t mean to hurt anyone’s feelings at all! I’ve tried requesting things to one person and get no response, so I didn’t think it was bad to ask multiple people I admire but I see how it can be rude. Sorry if I offended you!!
Hi, anon!
So I want to start off by saying how much I genuinely appreciate this apology message. It's not easy for a lot of people to own up to their mistakes - especially ones that they didn't necessarily realize they were making - so truly, thank you for coming forward and saying something. It means a lot to me, and I'm sure it means a lot to other writers who might read this, too.
The rest is going under a cut because it got kind of long.
I believe you when you say that you didn't want to hurt anyone's feelings. Unfortunately -in my own inbox and from posts I've seen others make - I've seen what anon messages look like when they are intentionally mean or hurtful, and the request that you sent was not like those at all. Nothing that you said in the actual request was offensive, whereas there are people who use the anon function just to be nasty.
But that doesn't mean that it was the best way to go about making this request, and I think you understand that now based on you sending this message, which again I thank you for doing. Sending the same request to multiple writers just hoping someone writes it makes us feel like you see us as interchangeable, like we don't all have our own unique writing style and voice. It makes us feel like you see us as on demand streaming services, like if Hulu doesn't have the show you're looking for you can just change the channel and go try Netflix or Amazon Prime. But we're not on demand streaming services, we are people who have lives and jobs and pets and families and other interests and obligations and we choose to share the stories that we write with the rest of the world for free.
I'm sorry that you've not had luck making requests in the past. It can be a bummer to not be able to find the types of stories that you want to read. You can, of course, try your hand at writing it yourself. That can seem daunting if you've never tried to write a story before, but it sounds like you have pretty specific ideas for plots and characters so it might be worth a shot / a fun challenge for yourself. But if you're not interested in giving that a go, here are some tips from a writer on how to get your requests written:
Make sure that the writer that you're sending the request to takes requests. Some people put that info right on their page but others don't. It doesn't hurt to ask before sending a request. Just shoot a message like: "Hey, I've read some of your work and really enjoy your writing. I was wondering if you took requests and if you do, would it be alright if I sent one?" Most people, if you ask nicely, will answer nicely, even if the answer is no.
Be willing to wait. A lot of writers, even if they openly encourage requests, already have a lot on their creative plates. They might be trying to finish a wip they've been working on for weeks or months or even years. They might love the request that you sent in, but might not be able to work on it right away because they're focusing on other things. It might have to simmer on the back burner while they think about the best way to execute it, so try to be patient whenever you make requests. You can even add in something like : "I know you're probably working on other things so don't feel rushed or pressured!" That goes a long way to help a writer feel appreciated for the work they are doing, as well as encouraged to continue working on things both new and old.
Think about the request that you want to make and try to figure out which writer that you've read work from might be the best fit for it. One size doesn't typically fit all for... well for anything, except maybe those giant foam finger things they sell at sporting events. Chances are if you read a lot of fic from a lot of different writers, you've started to figure out what their style is like and what types of tropes and themes they tend to write. A more targeted request based on matching the nature of the prompt with a writer who you think will do well with it has a better chance of getting written, because it shows the writer that you see them and their strengths as a writer and you think that the challenge you're presenting is one that they can handle really well. You can say something like "I read your story XXX and the way that you wrote Din's emotional response to the plot twist was excellent. I think you would be great at writing {insert request here} because of how you handled that story."
I hope you found this helpful, anon, and I hope that going forward you are able to make requests and get to read the types of things you are looking for. And I truly hope that you have a lovely night!
#thank you anon#anon asks#requests#request etiquette#anon this was really appreciated#how to ask a writer to write something
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Leaves, warm coat
Hello Anon! Thank you for the asks <3 This is going to be a bit of a long post, because my editing process is... detailed, so I'll answer Warm Coat first, in case you get bored about reading my long-ass editing process <3
Warm Coat: Share a happy or fuzzy scene from your wip!
This is a cute moment that I love. It's from Chapter 20, and it really shows how Lizzy and Cara's friendship develops over the course of the book. Poor Lizzy though, they fey just don't celebrate birthday's the way we do...
"It's Lizzy's birthday," Cara said, pretending that she wasn't still blushing, and Lizzy rolled her eyes. Cara slid on the straw sun hat she'd been carrying in her hands, the orange band of fabric encircling it the brightest splash of colour on her entire outfit, and Cara's hands fussed with the ribbon tails as they trailed off the brim and down her back.
"It's— Your birthday?" Andric asked, switching his attention from Cara, as she fussed with her sunhat, to Lizzy mid-sentence, and Lizzy shrugged.
"It's not that—"
"It is important," Booker cut her off with a growl. "You're eighteen. This one's important... even without Maddy," he added, voice softening.
"I was thinking; Shopping, movie, meal," Cara said quickly, stepping closer to Andric, and Lizzy watched, bemused, as Andric got hit full blast by her roommate's wide-eyed pleading.
He seemed to hesitate a moment, and Lizzy half expected him shut down Cara's extravagant plans, but then she leant forward and added, "Did you know that fey don't do birthday parties?" and he caved.
"Sounds like you've got it all planned out," he said simply, holding out an arm towards the front doors of the school, "if we want to fit all that in, we'd better get started."
"Yes!" Cara celebrated, jumping on the spot and throwing one hand in the air as Lizzy looked on bemused.
"Looks like you're getting a mortal-realm style birthday," Booker teased as Cara and Andric moved towards the doors, and Booker began dragging her after them with the arm that had curled around her shoulders, "whether you wanted to or not!"
Leaves: What does your editing process look like? How does your wip typically change as you work on it?
My editing progress is... in depth? I guess? I know that grammar is my weak spot, so I kind of just do the best I can to get it as clean as I can before I send it off to an editor.
The way I do that, is to edit in layers, and this ties into the second half of this question about how my WIP changes. Because once I have a completed manuscript, my WIP's core story doesn't change all that much.
So, it might sound strange, but step one of my editing process is actually to create an outline of my story before I start writing. I know. Sounds weird. Bear with me...
So I make my outline. It's very rough, it's not in depth, it's not detailed (Sometimes it's nothing more than a list of bullet points), and I'm not going to stick to the outline as I write. So why do I make it, you might ask... because I can use it when I come to edit.
For example. Changeling's outline.
The first version I wrote before I started the series. I changed the outline after I finished the first act. By the time I'd reached the 3rd act, I had to entirely rewrite the final act of the outline, because my story had drifted so far that the original outline no longer worked.
So now I have a finished manuscript, and 3 versions of the Changeling Outline, because while I was editing the outline, and rewriting it, I never deleted the original.
The first thing I do to edit, is I reread my original outline. I look at the story I wanted to telll, and the things I wanted to include, and I decide if I managed that. If I didn't, do I still want to include them? Or is the story better without them? I'll make handwritten notes about all this while I'm reading the outlines, because I don't edit the manuscript straight away. I have to let it rest, but I go over the outline as soon as possible after finishing the manuscript so that it's still fresh in my mind.
The second thing, once I have all my notes from re-reading the outlines, is to let my manuscript rest. The length of time varies. Stolen I let rest for 8 months. Changeling I was happy going back after about 3 weeks.
The third step is to actually edit. I don't reread my manuscript. I've let it rest so it's fresh, and I don't want to lose that by rereading it. I have the notes I made from the outlines, after I first finished it. These are usually large, plot structural changes I need to implement, so I have that notebook beside me as I work through the project.
For example, in Changeling, I realised I needed Booker to have a 'Tell' for when he's using telepathy (for plot reasons), so that's something I needed to weave in throughout the story as I went.
And then I edit the manuscript one chapter at a time.
This is still step three, but I do each chapter in small, easily repeatable steps.
(A) I copy/paste the chapter from my writing program into the Hemmingway App. (Warning for Anyone who uses Hemmingway; It will not save your work. If your browser page refreshes, closes, or your computer restarts, you will lose ALL your work. If you need to navigate away from Hemmingway, copy your work into a googledoc or something)
While it's in the Hemmingway App, and before I use any of it's functions, I use Ctrl+F (Find in my browser) to search through the chapter for Weak Words, Filter Words, and my commonly overused words.
Caveat; If any of these are found within character dialogue, I ignore them. Character's shouldn't speak perfectly and so Character Voice always wins out.
Weak Words
Suddenly
Then
Very
Really
Started
Just
Somewhat
Slightly
Somehow
Seem
Definitely
That
Filter Words
see / saw / look / looked
hear / heard
taste / tasted
smell / smelled / smelt / scent
touch / touched
feel / feels / felt
wonder / wondered / think / thought
decide / decided
realise / realised
know / knew
My Personal Overly Used Words
Own
Though
Quickly
After I've searched for each of these words, looked at the paragraph it's contained in, and decided if it's the best word for the job/if it can be rewritten to remove it/if it can be deleted outright/if i want to keep it there... then I move onto the things Hemmingway App can actually do.
Hemmingway highlights a bunch of things, but the only two features I actually use or pay attention to is it's highlighting of Adverbs and Passive Voice.
If my Passive Voice is below the recommended, then I'll still go and have a look at them and see if I can reword to remove them, but I don't worry about it too much. I've usually only got 2 or 3 instances per chapter, and that's a comfortable quantity for me, as most of the time these are within character dialogue.
Adverbs are where I'm quite weak, I usually have a painful number of Adverbs, so I will painstakingly go through and check each adverb to see if it's a strong or a weak adverb. To see if I really need it there, or if I can cut it. If I do need it, then I try and see if I can rewrite the sentence or paragraph to remove the adverb, and replace it with a stronger verb instead.
I always try and get my adverbs below Hemmingway's recommended number, but as long as I've checked over each one, and made a decision on them, that's good enough because that usually gets me within 5-10 adverbs of their target anyway.
As I'm going through editing Adverbs, I'll also work in any new content I need to add from my notes. I'm rewriting paragraphs during this stage, so it's the easiest moment to slide in extra, additional, or changed content.
(B) Once I've done my final Adverb check in Hemmingway, I copy/paste it from Hemmingway into Grammarly.
I use Grammarly's free version. I've tried their paid, but I don't think it's worth the price, especially if you're also paying for a professional editor. ProWritingAid is another good grammar checker, but I find it too complex to work with. Your Milage May Vary.
So, my document gets placed into Grammarly, and I wait for it to run it's grammar check. I then go through each of it's suggestions. I don't accept every suggestion, I read it and make a decision based on how I want my story to read.
Honestly, this is probably the fastest step.
Once I've said yes or no to each suggestion, I move onto Natural Readers, but KEEP the Grammarly Document open in a different tab.
(C) Keeping my chapter open in Grammarly in one tab, I go to Natural Readers Online. Natural Readers have really GOOD sounding voices, and they will read back to you any text you paste into their website.
So I'll copy the chapter from Grammarly, and paste it into natural readers. You can get 5 minutes of their Plus voices for free per day, and I think it's 20 minutes of their Premium voices for free per day. Their basic voices are free, unlimited, but do sound more like the robotic voice you'd expect.
I hate reading my own work aloud, so this is the way I bypass that embaressment. I have Natural Readers read my work back to me. I find this step invaluable. I can hear the flow of the text, I can catch spelling mistakes that a spell checker thinks are correct, but aren't what I intended (like Brian instead of brain, for example).
I also find that I can spot repetativeness more easily when it's read back to me too. I can hear I used "running" three times in two paragraphs easier than I can see it.
I can also spot where I've duplicated paragraphs. Sometimes, at the Hemmingway Stage, if I need to rewrite a paragraph, I'll go to the next line and retype it out from scratch, but will forget to delete the original. Natural Readers, and hearing it read back to me, is where I'm most likely to catch this mistake.
The reason I keep my Grammarly tab open, is that any errors I hear in Natural Readers, I edit in Grammarly. That's because Natural Readers doesn't like my Em-dashes. It breaks them. So it's easier for me to copy/paste from Grammarly that it is from NR and to fix all my Emdashes later.
(D) So after Natural Readers has finished reading my chapter back to me, and I've fixed any error's that's highlighted, I copy my final version of the chapter, and I paste it into my manuscript's Googledoc File.
I run Googledoc's spellchecker, to catch any tiny, last things every other step missed, and then I log the final wordcount of the chapter so that I know how many words I cut or added, and so that I can keep track of my manuscript's final word count (Because final word count is what I'm paying my editor to check)
(E) Then I do it all over again on the next chapter. This process can take me anywhere from 2 hours to 6 hours, per chapter.
Final Step, once I've completed all my self edits, is to read through the book from start to finish myself. At this point, I'm hopeful, I don't find anything else I think I can change.
Then I hand it over to Beta Readers. I'll make any small changes they find, then it'll be time to send my manuscript off to my professional editor, Nicole at Evermore Editing.
She edited my prequel short story, Whatever Happened To Madeline Hail? and I have every intention of going back to her for Changeling
So that's my editing process. It's also why my core story doesn't really change a whole lot once the manuscript is completed. Any huge, structural changes happen during the outline, and during the actual writing process. If I reach the end of a manuscript, it's almost entirely how I wanted it to come out, or I go back and rewrite.
Editing is really the final stage, and some once I'm reached that point, there's not a whole lot that is due to shift.
So I whine about editing a lot, but it's more that I find it highly tedious, and repetative, than stressful or difficult.
#Asks#Ask Answered#October Themed Asks#Lizzy Hail#Cara Evelyn#Andric Roche#Booker Reed#Lizzy's Birthday#Changeling#Changeling Extract#Changeling Snippet#Fey Touched Trilogy#Editing#My Editing Process#Long Editing#Arista Speaks#Ari Speaks#Arista Writes#Ari Writes
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Legal Guardian
ugh this took way too long lol, but here it is!!! i forget exactly that sparked this but i thought it was a cute idea.
warnings: injuries (nothing major), hospitals, cursing, harry being a protective dad 🥺, talks about adoption and legal guardians, crying
wordcount: 2481
harry styles x reader, stepdad!harry x reader, stepdadharry x oc!stella
masterlist
Stella gets hurt and Harry is the only one there- but he has no legal jurisdiction…
.
.
.
It all happened really fast. Harry can’t even recall how it started, but he knew very well how it ended. A sobbing Stella strapped into her car seat as he raced to the emergency room, frantically calling Y/n who was in a different state on a work trip.
The 5 year old didn’t understand what was going on, she just knew she was hurting… really bad. And that she wanted her mommy and daddy.
The traffic seemed to be working against him, getting in his way at the most inconvenient times, all the while he was trying to console his weeping daughter, crying out “Daddy it hurts so bad!” effectively shattering his heart into a million little pieces.
Stella had been playing happily in the backyard at home, showing off her wonderful dance moves to Harry who watched with an adoring smile on his face, taking little videos to send to his fiance, when suddenly she was laying on the ground, clutching her ankle, and crying for him to come get her. He rushed into action, not having seen her take the fateful step into what must have been a hole in the ground or something.
Screeching into the hospital car park, he stops somewhere he obviously wasn’t supposed to but he couldn't care less. His mind was racing. What if she broke her ankle? Or tore a ligament? What if she has to get surgery? All of this is what he worries about as he flings the back door of his car open, trying his best to appear calm for his daughter (but it’s not really working), and scoops her carefully into his hold, bringing her inside and shouting for someone to please help him.
A few nurses rush to his side, asking him different questions and asking for someone to “Page Dr. Robbins, tell her we need a peds consult.”
Stella is whisked away from him and before he can start to follow after her, a hand is placed on his chest, stopping him in his place.
“Sir, we can’t have you in the room with her. You’re not on her file as a legal guardian!” A doctor tells him. In that moment, he sees nothing but red, steam pouring out of his ears.
“The hell I can’t, I’m her father! I’m not going to let her sit in there all alone while strangers poke and prod at her!” He all but yells at the man. Harry is not violent. He really isn't. But he’s not afraid to lay somebody on their ass when it comes to his girls. With kindness or course. And maybe a black eye.
From the room she was taken into he can hear her crying for him.
“Wan’ my daddy! Daddy!” Harry didn’t think his heart could break any further than it already had but he was proven wrong by the ache in his chest that only grew stronger the longer he was kept away from his lovebug.
“Doctor, respectfully- if you don’t move the hell out of my way, I will move you myself. That is my daughter, and my fiance is in a different state right now on a business trip so I am the only parent she has right now. If you try to keep me from my child I will take legal action against the hospital and sue for everything you’re worth. Now if you’ll excuse me.” Harry is seething, trying to move past the man in the white lab coat and light blue scrubs. Again, he is stopped.
“I will call security, sir!”
“DADDY!” Stella is now screeching, her little voice hoarse from all the yelling and crying.
“Don’t you fucking hear that? She needs me, and you’re telling me I can’t go be with her! What the hell kind of doctor are you?” Harry is in the man's face, pointing at him vehemently. He doesn’t care that people are starting to watch the scene. Doesn’t care that some people have recognized him and are recording the ordeal. Let the people see him fighting for his family. He doesn’t give a rat's ass if his “image” takes a hit. His daughter is on the line and he won’t back down.
“She’ll be fine-”
“No she won’t! Go ahead and call security. My daughter needs me and you’re not going to stop me from being in that room with her.” With that he pushes past the doctor (who must be an intern or something with how he’s handling this situation) and rushes into the room where his baby is screaming for him. He’s at her side in a matter of seconds, wiping the tears from her face, peppering kisses onto her head, petting her wild hair back from her face, just consoling her in any way that he can.
How fucking dare they try to keep him from her, especially when she’s in a state like this.
“It’s ok baby girl, daddy’s here now. I’ve got you. You’re ok, you’re ok!” He mumbles into her hair, doing his best to stay out of the way of the people examining her but still close enough so she knows he’s right there with her.
Little tears still streamed down her face but she was much calmer now, her breathing more even and body less tense.
“Mr. Styles we’re bringing in the portable x-ray to take a look at her ankle, so you’re going to need to wear this.” He nods and takes the vest given to him, putting it over his shoulders like he sees the others do. A similar article is placed over Stella, who is clinging to Harry’s hand, fearing that she’s going to have to be without him again. But he promises he isn’t going anywhere.
As they’re taking the x-ray his phone starts ringing in his pocket and he checks to see that it’s Y/n calling him back.
“H, what’s wrong, is she ok?” Her panicked voice rushes out as soon as the call connects.
“We’re in the ER right now and she’s getting an x-ray to see what’s going on with her ankle-”
“You’re in the room with her right? She’s not alone?”
The little shards of his heart keep breaking into smaller and smaller pieces as her voice breaks.
“Yeah, I’m right next to her. Don’t worry m’love, she’s not alone!” He glared at the doctor that tried to keep him out as he said that, letting him know he hadn’t forgotten.
“I’m gonna facetime you so I can see her.” She said and he nodded, waiting for it to come through. When it did he quickly accepted it, seeing the love of his life’s face on the screen, with her puffy eyes and tear stained cheeks as she wiped away the remaining tears so she didn’t freak out her baby.
“Stell, mumma’s on the phone, she wants to talk to you.”
“Hi baby girl!” Y/n said as soon as Harry held the phone so Stella could see her mom. The little girl's tear stained cheeks looked exactly like her moms, and her heart broke for her baby.
“Hi mumma,” Stella pouted into the camera, clutching onto her daddy as tight as her little hand could. Harry was a little uncomfortable but he would take this over not being in here at all.
“How do you feel, baby? You ok?” She asked.
“My foot hurts and they wouldn’t let daddy in here and I was scared, but he’s here now so I’m ok.” The little girl rambled off. Y/n almost missed how she said they wouldn’t let Harry in the room but when it finally registered, she was fuming. Absolutely, royally pissed.
“What do you mean they wouldn’t daddy in there?” Stella shrugged and looked up at Harry for an answer. He brought the phone back so he could see her after looking around at the doctors in the room, all doing their job and pretending they weren’t listening to this conversation, but a few of them winced when Y/n asked her question.
“Some bloke tried to keep me out of the room while Stella was being examined but she was on the verge of a whole breakdown. It was like Disneyland in Paris all over again.” He said, referencing the time Harry took his girls to Disneyland while they were in Paris and Stella got separated from her mom and dad. She had never not been able to see at least 1 of her parents before. Needless to say… she didn’t handle it very well. Screaming, crying, and hyperventilating (which freaked her out even more- causing her to scream louder and cry harder) ensued very shortly, disturbing every person around her. But it made it easy for them to find her and she spent a very very long time clutching her tiny arms around her daddy’s neck, not letting him set her down for anything. That was an interesting trip to the bathroom …
“Why would they try to keep you out of the room? You’re her father!” Y/n was on the verge of popping a blood vessel. Of course the one time her baby really needs her, she’s hours away.
“Uh, Mr. Styles, I’m so sorry to interrupt! But the x-ray is complete. There’s no break, it looks like a sprain at worst. Also, about why my intern was saying you weren’t allowed in the room, not that I was listening to your conversation, with ped’s cases we typically only allow legal parents or guardians in the room and your name isn’t anywhere on her file or on her records so he was just trying to follow safety protocols. He didn’t go about the situation as well as he should have because we always want to make sure our patient has what they need and that was obviously you- but that is the reason why you initially weren’t let into the room. You’re not a legal parent or guardian. Based on your situation- you’re legally considered a step-parent and that title doesn’t come along with any legal jurisdiction.” Dr. Robins explained, in quite a few words Harry thinks, but he doesn’t say anything about it. Just sits and realizes that while for the better part of a year and a half, he’s been calling himself Stella’s dad but the whole he’s not been anything… not legally anyway.
Y/n realizes this too and makes a mental note to call their lawyers to do something about that.
“That makes sense… Thank you, Dr. Robbins! I have her mum on the phone, but you knew that, so if there’s anything else I legally can’t do, she’ll have to take care of it like thi-”
“Mr. Styles, we won’t tell if you don’t! Anything else that needs to be signed, we’ll just go ahead and have you do it. Save the hassle for everyone.” Dr. Robbins interrupts him and he smiles, silently thanking her.
“Daddy, what's a legal guardian?” Stella asks after a quiet moment.
“A legal guardian is someone who takes care of you because the law says they can. So because I didn’t help mumma make you and I came into your life a little later, I’m not a legal guardian of you. Not yet anyway.” He mumbles the last part but Y/n catches it.
“Does everyone have a legal guardian?” She hiccuped, rubbing at her eyes with the hand that wasn’t clutching Harry’s.
“At one point yeah, but once you get older you don’t need one anymore because you can take care of yourself.”
The girl pauses, thinking about her daddy’s words before muttering “Don’t wanna take care of myself. Wanna stay with you and mumma forever.”
All the little shards of his heart slowly start to piece back together.
“I want you to stay with me and mumma forever too lovebug.” He cooes. Y/n’s eyes light up, her gaze filled with adoration for her little family.
. * .
*
“The documents are all drawn up Mrs. Styles, everything is ready for your husband to sign.”
“Thank you so much Ben!”
. * .
*
“Baby, c’mere. Wanna talk to you about something.”
“Yeah mommy?”
Y/n took a deep breath, trying to quell the tears she could already feel threatening to fall. Her newly wed husband sat beside her on the couch, running his hand along her back and squeezing her shoulder and letting her know he was there if she needed him.
“Do you remember when you and Daddy had that conversation about legal guardians?” The woman asked, pulling her baby into her lap, brushing her hand over the girl's hair affectionately.
“Uhhh, kinda.” She murmured, curling into her mom.
“Do you remember what a legal guardian is?” Y/n rephrased, hoping to jog the girl's memory. Stella nodded and when prompted by her mother explained that “It’s someone who takes care of you until you're old enough to take care of yourself.”
“That’s right baby, very good!”
“And do you remember when we were at the hospital and that doctor was being mean, not letting Daddy into the room with you?” Harry chimes in, scooting closer to his girls. She nodded with a roll of her eyes and a huff of breath, causing a little giggle to erupt from her parents. She really is her mothers daughter.
“Didn’t like him.” She mumbles.
“Do you remember why they didn’t let him into the room?” Y/n asks, knowing she should probably get to the point before her little one checks out and gets bored.
“Cause daddy’s not my legal guardian.” Stella huffs again, rubbing her eyes and nuzzling further into her mom.
“Do you want him to be?”
Stella’s quiet for a moment, tapping her little finger on her chin like she’s thinking hard. “Yeah.”
“Yeah? You want that baby?” Harry asks, pulling her into his lap. The girl wraps her arms around his neck and lays her head on his shoulder, nodding.
“Yeah, Daddy. Want you to be able to come to the doctors with me.” She mumbles sleepily.
The tears Y/n had been fighting off finally broke through, despite her efforts. It’s official. Harry is going to adopt Stella and they would be a family in every sense of the word. No one would be able to take Harry's little girl away from him. All he had to do was sign the paper. Harry felt tears spring to his eyes as well, smoothing his hand along his baby’s back.
“You have no idea how happy it makes me to hear that…” He says, squeezing her a little tighter. Y/n snaps a quick picture before she snuggles into them.
“Love you Mommy, love you Daddy.” She murmurs before falling asleep in Harry's arms. Something that isn’t new, but feels different now for some reason. Things felt a little more official and he hadn’t even signed the papers yet.
#daddy? series#stepdad!harry#stepdad!harry x reader#dad!harry#harry styles x reader#stepdad!harry styles#harry styles#harry x reader#harry styles fluff#harry styles angst#harry styles imagine#harry styles x singlemom!reader#harry x singlemom!reader#singlemom!reader#one direction
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Long Time Coming
Fandom: Criminal Minds
Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Female Reader
Word Count: 6,664
Tags: 18+, NSFW, Dad Bod Hotch, Oblivious Hotch, Flirting, Reader has a few one night stands, Semi-public sex, Unprotected sex, Blow jobs/Face fucking, Hairpulling, Fingering, Praise and degradation, Dirty talk, Accidental reveal of feelings, TW blood/cut
Summary: You have been in lust (and love) with Aaron for a while, but his new look sends you off the deep end, and it's enough to make you do some pretty crazy things. *Inspired by @ssamorganhotchner and these three pics.
Link to A03 or read below!
You are fresh off yet another unsuccessful first date when Aaron wears the new suit. You, Emily, JJ, and Penelope are standing by the coffee maker, complaining about the pitfalls of online dating and how people are never they way they seem when you actually meet in person; you have the carafe in your hand, filling your mug, and when he walks in, face in a case file, his pants so tight you can make out his hips and thighs as clearly as if he were naked… You kind of lose your shit. And your grip.
The carafe shatters when it hits the tile floor, spraying shards of glass and hot coffee everywhere; Emily gasps, Penelope jumps back to avoid the splatter, JJ runs for a broom, and you just stand there, staring at Aaron—at his tight slacks, at his belt, at his shirt, tucked neatly inside, then at his dangling tie, and finally, his worried face.
“Are you alright?” he asks, because you have literally not moved a muscle since he arrived; your boots are covered in coffee—you are thankful you dressed casually today and aren’t wearing heels, or you’d be in a lot of pain—and your heart is racing, but otherwise you feel frozen, unable to move or look away.
You’ve wanted Aaron for a long time, and everyone knows it but him. It’s part of the reason you’re smothering yourself with online hookups and blind dates and one night stands: because he is off limits, and you’re desperately horny for him, and you need to have him fucked out of your mind one way or another.
The new suit further complicates things.
“Fine,” you say after a few more seconds, and JJ comes back with the broom and dustpan, so you bend down to help her clean up your mess. It wasn’t your brightest idea, because you are now at eye level with the tight crotch of his pants, and all you can think of is working the zipper open, pulling him carefully past the fly, sucking him off until those big hands slip into your hair and tug roughly when he comes.
God. You’re going to have to go on another bad date. Or ten.
“New suit?” Penelope asks conversationally, as if you aren’t having a sexual crisis about it three feet away. “Looks good, boss.” Aaron runs his hand down his body self-consciously, but all you see are thick fingers and stomach and hnnngg…
JJ pinches the back of your arm hard, makes a face that screams get it together!!, and you take a deep breath.
“I took some of my old ones in for alterations and the salesman convinced me they were severely outdated. Do you like this style better?”
For some reason, it feels like he’s looking right at you, and you nod, dreamy-eyed, sweep your tongue over your lips.
“Better,” you rasp, and Emily and Penelope agree, probably to take the emphasis off of your slack mouth and dopey one-word answers. You try to help JJ clean up, picking up the larger pieces of glass and dropping them into the dustpan despite her protests—because you are very unfocused, shouldn’t be messing with sharp objects—and when you cut your finger on a piece, she just sighs. Such a mom.
You wince, and Aaron frowns, comes toward you, putting you not only at dick height, but a manageable dick distance, if you were so inclined; really, it’s more if he were so inclined, because you are actually fully prepared to swallow his load right here in front of your friends—all he’d have to do would be snap his fingers and point to his crotch, and the FBI would be suing you for mental distress and using the money to pay for therapy for Emily, Penelope, and JJ.
“Let’s get this cleaned up,” he says, snapping you out of your very elaborate fantasy (typically your fantasies don’t involve court costs, but this is Aaron, so anything is possible.) He wraps his hand around your injured finger and pulls you up to standing with the other, and you just follow along as he leads you over to the sink, turns on the tap to let the water run over your cut. The way you’re looking up at him like he’s the best thing you’ve ever seen has to be painfully obvious, but he just reaches over for the first aid kit, takes out a bandage, and wraps it carefully around the tip of your finger. You sigh.
It may have started out as lust, but you’re pretty sure you’re also in love.
You have got to find a way to get him to notice you as more than just an agent, a teammate, a friend, and so: Operation ‘Get Hotch Out Of His Tight Pants’ begins.
You fill the girls in on your master plan, and they fill in Derek and Spencer just so there are more people to laugh at you when you crash and burn, probably. But you’ve got a plan, will be pulling out all the stops, so you might not fail horribly after all. Hopefully.
God, you absolutely cannot fail. You can’t go out with another software engineer with the personality of a peanut or another investment banker who thinks buying you an appetizer means you owe him a blow job in the front seat of his Tesla. You will go fucking insane.
Today’s plan is T for tits, because yours are pretty awesome and almost no one who is attracted to women can resist them. You wear your usual white button down top, but you leave the top two buttons undone, and you add a red, lacy bra for a little additional temptation.
“Here are those consults you asked for,” you say after knocking lightly on the doorframe; Aaron waves you inside. You set them down on his desk, then glance over the open folder in front of him, make a curious noise. “What are you working on up here?”
You walk around his desk, so you’re standing next to him, and lean forward to look over the case file with one hand on the back of his chair and the other pressed against the desk. If he would look over, he would see right down your top, your breasts high and smushed together thanks to the lacy push up… but he looks straight down at the file, taps his pen against it.
“Murders in Detroit. I don’t think we’ll go—they look like mob hits to me, so I’m going to refer the case to Organized Crime.” You hum, turn the file toward you and lean in a little closer, letting your hair spill over your shoulder, the neck of your blouse fall open. Boobs and perfume are usually a one-two punch that is capable of bringing any man to his knees, and while he does turn to look at you, it feels entirely too respectful for your liking. You sigh softly, give up for today, and turn the file back.
“Well you know best, boss. Any time I don’t have to go to Detroit is alright by me.” You flash him a smile, and he reciprocates, and you head back downstairs for a cup of coffee and maybe a stale shame pastry.
The team looks up at you when you approach, and you shake your head.
“No luck,” you mutter, and Derek laughs, crosses his arms over his chest.
“Maybe you’re not very good at flirting. What did you do?” You roll your eyes—your flirting is not the problem, it’s Aaron’s morals and manners or whatever—and walk over to Spencer’s desk, demonstrate with him what you did to Aaron; you put your hand on the back of his chair, toss your hair over your shoulder, lean in, and Spencer swallows hard, licks his lips, and looks abruptly down at his hands. That reaction, you would have gladly taken.
Derek clears his throat, and so does Emily. Hmm.
“I’m good at flirting,” you say, straightening up; Spencer is blushing, and it’s super cute, so you pat him lightly on the head. “Maybe he’s an ass man. I’ll wear a skirt tomorrow and we’ll see if that gets the job done.”
“Good idea,” Derek says, and when you walk past him, he gives you a once over that makes you feel pretty damn good. “In the meantime, why don’t you come and demonstrate on me?”
There’s no denying he is one of the finest men you’ve ever seen in your life, and earlier on in your career you might have taken him up on it—it would have to be better than Marty McTesla, that’s a given—but you know he’s mostly teasing, even if there is a thin layer of actual desire beneath it all. You just fluff your hair and take your seat and mentally flip through your closet to try to come up with an outfit Aaron can’t refuse.
You decide on a pencil skirt, because that’s got to be every boss's fantasy, right? You have one you never wear to the office because it’s a little sexy, tight on your hips and ass, with a zipper up the back that you can open a little and use to your advantage. When you walk into the bullpen that morning, JJ whistles, and you grin, do a little twirl.
“Thank you, thank you. This has to work, right?” You turn to face Emily, then turn away from Emily, butt right in her face. “Emily? This will work, right?”
“That’s... definitely going to work,” she murmurs, tapping the cap of her pen against her teeth, and you have to admit you have a good feeling about this one. For as great as breasts are, your ass is your best asset, and if the open top and red bra didn’t work, this has to be your ticket to some sweet, dirty loving, it just has to.
You all head up for the morning meeting, filing into the briefing room, and you give Aaron a soft greeting and a smile just like every day, and then offer to help him pass out whatever stack of papers he’s holding in his hands—fire drills and emergency protocol, or something boring like that. He accepts the help, and you take the fliers, but instead of walking around and handing them to each member of the team like he would, you bend over the table, reach across, and drop the pages in front of everyone.
JJ is the furthest away, and you practically have to climb onto the table to reach her; you grin and wink when she takes the papers out of your hand, and she shakes her head like you’re too much, but when you stand back up to hand Aaron the extras, he doesn’t seem the slightest bit interested.
He thanks you for your help, and you take your seat and listen to him go on about emergency exits and fire extinguishers and seriously start to contemplate moving to Europe to start a new life, or something else equally dramatic.
Because you don’t give up easily, you orchestrate one more attempt to get him to show some interest in you. You know he usually goes downstairs to the cafeteria for lunch, and that the elevator is a jam-packed nightmare because the main stairwell is currently under construction (which is probably why you needed to go over safety protocol, now that you think about it; shutting down the stairwell seems very unsafe.) You usually pack your lunch, but you can go buy an overpriced salad for the sake of your sex drive, so you wait for the elevator when he does, making small talk about your mornings until it dings and arrives on your floor.
He tries to let you in first, gentleman that he is, but that won’t work with your plan, so you insist, earning eye rolls from the other passengers on the elevator. You give Amy from Forensic Accounting a dirty look and then step in after him, lean back against him because there’s really no fucking room to even take a breath.
He’s taller than you, but with heels on your ass still fits pretty nicely against his thighs; a little too nicely, you think, as you get wet just from standing near him in the elevator, the heat of his body through your skirt. You really are a mess.
There are two more floors to go before the cafeteria, and no one gets off, but more people manage to cram into the elevator, which means you press more tightly against him to make room. Someone bumps into you roughly, which makes you unsteady on your feet; Aaron puts his hands low on your hips to keep you from wobbling, and your eyes literally roll back in your head, but he just leans in to mutter, “sorry” into your ear. You say nothing, because you’d probably moan if you opened your mouth, but you shake your head so he knows it’s not a problem.
When everyone gets off downstairs, you hurry to the restroom and don’t look back, turn on the faucet and splash some cold water against your overheated neck and chest. So much for that plan. All you managed to do was work yourself up into a fury.
While you’re in line to pay for your overpriced salad, you open up your dating app and secure yourself drinks with a hot lawyer for tonight. Seduction is clearly not working with Aaron, he’s clearly not interested, and you have to find a way to move on before you have a spontaneous workplace orgasm and get fired from the job you love—all of his tight new suits have been dark so far, but if he shows up in gray, you’re not going to have the will to survive anymore. You have to plan for the worst.
The lawyer is nice enough, but he’s too short, too thin; it’s hard to imagine Aaron’s body weight on top of you when he’s fucking you, but you’re nothing if not resourceful, so you move your hands to his head of thick, dark hair and focus on that—that, and his hot breath against your throat when he comes a little too soon and mutters “sorry” into your ear.
“It’s okay,” you pant, reaching between you to rub your clit. You close your eyes, tip your head back, clench around him; you imagine it’s Aaron inside you instead, and bury your face in his shoulder when you come.
He’s willing to stay, but you explain why it’s better if he leaves, and then you fall back into bed, fumble for your vibrator, and get off again so you’re not too distracted by reality to really enjoy your fantasy.
It’s a little twisted, but it is what it is.
You’re standing in the breakroom a few days later, swiping through the dating app and bullshitting with Derek and Penelope, when this guy pops up on your screen. He’s not your usual type, younger and blonder than you prefer these days, a pilot, but something about his profile makes you pause; when it hits you, you blow out a breath and look up at your friends.
“So you guys know Operation ‘Get Hotch Out Of His Tight Pants’ is officially dead in the water,” you begin, and they nod, “and now I’m focusing my energy on trying to get over him. I went on a date with a guy that kind of looked like him, and that didn’t really help, but what if…” You turn your screen to face them; Derek nods like it might be crazy enough to work, but Penelope grimaces.
“No, I don’t think that’s going to work. It might actually be crossing a line,” she says with a frown, and you look to Derek for his input.
“It’s more of a coincidence than anything, right? It’s not like he’s unattractive and this is the only reason you’re going out with him. He’s a good looking guy,” he admits, and you’re really grateful he’s willing to help you rationalize this probably terrible idea into a potentially decent idea.
You send the pilot a message, and he wants to meet up; he suggests a bar near the both of you, and you know it’s risky, but you tell him you happen to make a great gin and tonic and that you have everything you need at home, if he’d like to meet you there instead.
He does, and you don’t even make him that drink, just take off his clothes, get him into your bed.
“That’s right, babe—wanna hear you lose it for me. Say my name, gorgeous,” he groans, fingers digging into your hips as he fucks you from behind, and you close your eyes, fist your hands in the sheets, and give him what he wants.
“Oh, fuck, Aaron. Fuck me harder.” His thrusts are already rough and punishing, but this is the best you’ve felt in a really long time, so you’re eager, desperate for more. “Yeah, Aaron, just like that.”
“Tell me my big cock feels so good in your pussy.” He slaps your ass, and you moan involuntarily, press back against him, panting.
“Your big cock feels so good, Aaron, so good in my pussy. Fuck me, Aaron, destroy me.” He grunts, tenses, and moves his hands to your shoulders, slamming your body tight against his as he comes. “Yes, don’t stop, Aaron, don’t stop,” you plead, hips working together, and when he smacks your ass again you come gasping his name, collapsing against the bed with a breathless sigh.
You feel a lot dirtier than you expected you would, even though it was kind of awesome, and ultimately Penelope was right; it was fun while it lasted, but it didn’t do a damn thing to help you forget about the only Aaron you actually want in your bed.
Monday morning, Aaron comes into the office wearing a tight navy suit with a striped white shirt and a navy tie, and you follow him with your eyes from the glass double doors all the way up to his office, mouth open a little. Your eyes get heavy and your breathing picks up, which is the dumbest biological reaction to a man’s ass you’ve ever had—but god, it’s a perfect ass—and JJ has to actually lightly slap your cheek to get you to snap the fuck out of it.
“Are you horny right now?” she asks, a little grossed out. “I can’t handle you.”
“I know you guys all call him a tightass, but I mean, if the pants fit… and god, do they fit.” You pick up a case file and fan yourself with it. “He’s so fucking hot. What am I supposed to do? Getting railed by fake Aaron didn’t do shit; I think I might actually have to transfer.”
“You’re not transferring. You just have to get over it.”
“Are you kidding? She’s like a cat in heat when he’s around,” Derek says with a smirk. “I think I’m getting horny just because she’s horny.”
“Okay, so why can’t I have that effect on him?” you ask with your arms open. “Do you think it’s the pheromones? Maybe they’re incompatible. Smell me—does it turn you on?” you ask Spencer, presenting your neck, and he looks like a deer in the headlights, then leans in to sniff you.
“Uh… you smell nice?” he says with a shrug and a half smile. “I think it’s just your perfume, though.”
“Put your face near her boobs,” Derek says, and Spencer starts to lean in again. “I think the pheromones are stronger there.” He pauses about halfway to your chest.
“Actually, they’re stronger near the genitals, but I don’t think that’s appropriate.”
“What’s going on down there?” You freeze and then turn to look up at Aaron’s office, where he leans against the doorframe; Spencer stands up comically fast, and you take a step back, clearing your throat. Aaron’s scowling—it’s really sexy and it’s making your heart beat in your stupid, traitor pussy—and then he sighs visibly. “We have a case, come on.”
The case is only a half hour away, so you drive, which is horrible, because you are with Aaron and Derek, and Derek lets you sit in the front just to watch you squirm.
It gets bad before you even pull out of the parking garage, because Aaron puts his hand on the back of your headrest to look behind him and reverse the SUV, and you look over at his body—his stomach, his lap, his thighs—and then quickly face forward when he puts the car into drive. You’re flushed, breathing heavily, and when he looks you over quizzically, asks if you’re alright, you just clear your throat and nod.
“Allergies,” Derek supplies from the back, and you mentally thank him for the save, but you kind of also want to smack him for putting you in this position in the first place.
You’re practically turned on the entire ride, even as you go over the details of the case, because his legs are spread and your eyes keep moving to his crotch; at one point, you think you notice his already unfairly tight pants getting a little tighter, but it’s just a trick of light.
By the time you arrive at the precinct, you are more than ready for fresh air, to put some distance between yourself and Aaron. You’re out of the car almost as soon as he turns off the engine, which probably looks weird as hell, but for your sanity you can’t give it too much thought.
The head detective and a junior detective give you a run down on the case while the other half of your team meets with officers at the crime scene. The head detective, a tall, handsome man in his forties, is looking at you like you’re a juicy steak and he hasn’t eaten in months; Derek notices, turns to you with a raised eyebrow and mouths ‘pheromones,’ Aaron is clearly unhappy about the detective’s lack of professionalism, and you couldn’t really care less about the attention. You just want to do your job and go home and touch yourself to thoughts of your boss… as one does.
The local police already have a board made up, so the three of you travel to speak with some witnesses, head back to the precinct, work the tip lines. Aaron seems to be looking at you more than usual, and when you get up to stretch your legs, he’s right behind you, following you out into the hall.
“Are you sure you're alright today?” he asks with a serious expression, hands on his hips. Your mouth waters. “You’ve been acting a little strange.”
“Stranger than normal?” You try to smile, to lighten the mood, but as oblivious as he’s been about everything else, he’s always been able to tell when you try to hide your emotions with humor.
“The last couple weeks? Yes.” He moves a little closer, and you try your best not to let it affect you—or at least not to let it show when it does. “You know by now that you can come to me anytime, for anything.” He doesn’t present it as a question, but it’s clear on his face that he’s looking for an answer.
“I know. I’m going through something… stupid,” you say with a shrug. “Something I should be able to handle, but it’s harder than I imagined.” He frowns, flicks his eyes over your face.
“Let me help you.”
“You can’t; trust me, you can’t,” you say, pleading with your voice, begging him to drop it. “I’ll get through it.” You shut your eyes briefly, exhale, and he reaches down to take one of your hands in his.
“Are you in trouble?” This is the most intimately he’s ever touched you, and it’s not just your body that sings; you know you’re in love with him, have been for a while, but focusing on the horny feelings is easier. It makes it feel like you have less to lose.
“No, it’s nothing like that. I just need some time. Thank you.” You squeeze his hand, and then Derek pokes his head into the hall behind him.
“We got a tip about the unsub barricading a house downtown; the detective is mobilizing SWAT,” he says; when he glances down at your hands, you pull yours softly out of Aaron’s grasp.
“What do you want us to do, boss?” you ask, effectively ending your conversation, and he tells you to get suited up with comms and Kevlar so the three of you can head to the new scene.
Aaron is, unsurprisingly, a complete badass, storming the house along with SWAT, you at his side; it’s his way of reminding you that he trusts you, that it can and should go both ways—he is so perfectly predictable, reassuring with gestures over words even in a situation like this one. It does nothing to help you stop wanting him.
He’s a little rough with the unsub (and that doesn’t help either,) looks ruffled and kind of pissed when you climb in the SUV to head back to the precinct. Spencer, JJ, and Emily meet you there, and you take the opportunity to vent about how indescribably good Aaron has looked all day—Spencer bows out of the conversation early, but JJ and Emily are kind enough to listen to your insane, horny ramblings.
“He’s just so hot—he always has been, but the new suits? They’re so tight, and his shirts show off his tummy, and his pants show off his thighs… You guys will never understand the things I want to do to him.”
“Okay, he’s handsome enough, but you’re nasty about it—I can’t handle you,” JJ says, not for the first time. You groan in response.
“How can you say that? Have you fucking seen him? I’m not supposed to think nasty thoughts when he walks around looking like that?”
You feel yourself getting a little out of hand, and Emily and JJ look like they’re trying to shut you up, but you can’t stop yourself. It’s like the floodgates have opened.
“He’s never going to know what I want to do to him… what I want him to do to me. I tried so hard, and he didn’t even look at me. All I wanted to do was get on my knees for him and grab his ass so he could fuck my throat as hard as fucking possible—is that so much to ask for?” You pause, but neither of them say anything, just look scandalized. “I guess I’m going to have to name my vibrator Hotch now, since that’s clearly the closest I’ll ever get to him giving me an orgasm.”
“Do you really mean that?”
You jump a fucking foot, spin around, almost knocking Emily and JJ over in the process; Aaron is in front of you, his brow furrowed, arms crossed over his vest (he hasn’t taken that thing off yet? You threw yours on the table like the minute you got back), and your mouth opens and your eyes close at the same time.
Oh fucking fuck.
“We’re gonna… go,” Emily says awkwardly, and you open your eyes abruptly when Aaron speaks again.
“No, we’re going to go; come with me,” he tells you, and he turns and heads down the hall; you look back at Emily and JJ, swallow hard, and follow him, your heart beating fast.
He steps into a small room with a copy machine, table, shelves of paper and envelopes and other supplies, and closes the door behind you, engages the lock. You are torn between being very worried he’s going to fire you and super turned on, because this is definitely a fantasy you’ve had before.
“Aaron,” you begin, running a hand through your hair. “I’m sorry. I think it was the adrenaline; it makes me run my mouth and I can’t stop it, you know that.” He’s facing away from you, his hands on his hips again, and you can see the way his body moves when he sighs.
“Did you mean it, though?” When he turns to look at you, he doesn’t look angry, he looks… nervous. “Do you want me?” His reaction is unexpected—not great, but not necessarily bad—and you bite your lip, nod.
“Yeah. So fucking bad. And I’m sorry—” That’s as far into your apology as you get before his mouth is on yours, his hands on your face, lips pressing against you for a rough, eager kiss. Your hands move to his waist, pulling him closer by the vest, and he lifts you up onto the table, tugs down the v-neck of your t-shirt, mouths at your throat.
“You think I didn’t look at you?” he says when he pulls away for a breath, tipping your chin down so you’ll look into his eyes. “You think I didn’t see that lacy red bra, your perfect ass bent over in the tight skirt? You think I didn’t feel it pressed against me in the elevator, that I didn’t want to push that skirt up and sink inside you and take you there in front of everyone?”
You moan, chest heaving, twist your fingers in his hair and pull him in for another kiss, dripping and trembling at his admission.
“I would have let you,” you murmur against his lips, and there’s no doubt in your mind that you would have, if that’s what he’d wanted. “I would let you do anything: not just let you, but I’d want it, beg for it. I meant what I said—I’d get on my knees for you, anytime, anywhere, do whatever you want me to do. I want to be yours.”
He catches your mouth in another rough kiss, then puts his hands on your waist, guides you off the table, and flips open his belt, the fly of his pants.
“Oh god. What are you doing?” you ask, and he slides down his zipper, pulls you with him until his back hits the door.
“I’m giving you what you asked for,” he rasps, staring into your eyes, his gaze smoldering. It’s so fucking hot your pussy clenches.
You lick your lips, drop to your knees on the tile floor so hard it hurts, tug his pants open and pull out his thick, hard, veiny cock.
Your dreams and fantasies did not do it justice.
“Fuck. Thank you,” you mumble, looking up at him, and he wraps his hands in your hair, pulls tightly. You moan just from that and the heft of him in your hand. “Thank you.”
“Shh.” He scrapes his fingers over your scalp, hums as you start stroking him, licking the head. “Don’t thank me—I should be thanking you, beautiful, perfect girl. In what world do I get this?” There are lots of things you want to say to that, but you’ve waited long enough, will have to say them later.
You lick your lips, collect lots of saliva, and take him into your mouth, get your hands on his ass and dig your nails in. Aaron groans, tightens his fingers in your hair, and when you look up at him it feels like a fever dream, like it’s not real but a delicious figment of your imagination.
For a minute or two, you stroke him with a tight, wet mouth, and it’s got you aching between your legs, but he’s supposed to be fucking your throat, technically, if he’s giving you what you asked for. You pull off, tell him that, and he tugs your head back roughly, guides you back onto his cock and starts thrusting into your mouth, earning vibrating moans around it.
“God, you’re so perfect. How long have you been thinking about this? How long have you touched yourself to the thought of me fucking your pretty face?” He picks up the pace, pushes deeper when he sees you can handle it, and you squeeze his ass, feel your eyelids flutter as he uses your mouth, pulls your hair. “Are you a whore for me?” he grinds out, and the moan that rips from your throat is inhuman, embarrassing, and absolutely accurate. “Yes you are, baby, yes you are. My pretty whore, on your knees, mouth stretched wide and filled with cock.”
You’ve never been so turned on from a blow job, but this is Aaron, hot and dirty and forceful, everything you imagined and more. You squeeze him tighter, encourage rougher treatment, and he presses his hands against the back for your head, slams his dick in so deep it aches; you don’t gag, but it’s a near thing, and when he pulls you off you gasp for breath and whimper at the loss at the same time.
“Enough of that, baby. You were perfect, so good for me, almost choking on my cock, but I bet your pussy is wet and aching. Do you want me inside it?”
“Holy—yes, fuck, please. Please,” you breathe, and he helps you to your feet and then pushes you against the door, gets your pants down. His rough treatment has you whining, gripping the hair on the back of his head, and you kick off your boots and socks so you can step out of your pants completely. “Keep all this on,” you tell him, pants and shirt and tie and Kevlar vest and all, and he nods, kisses you deeply, presses two fingers inside you.
“Fuck,” he groans when you receive him easily, soft and wet and open, and he uses his free hand to sweep down your top, slipping the buttons loose so he can get a better view of your tits and black lace bra that’s holding them. “So beautiful, and finally mine,” he mutters against your throat, and you whine, let your head fall back against the door, and give in to the pleasure of his thick fingers moving inside you.
“Finally mine,” you murmur, tugging his hair, slamming down against his hand, and when you come it’s like a miracle; you cry out, clamp down, and wrap your free hand around his bicep and squeeze until you’re lightheaded, dazed, desperate for another.
You kiss, deep and passionate and filthy, and Aaron slides his fingers into your mouth, pumps them a few times, then kisses you again.
“Good girl. Are you ready for my cock now?” You pant, gasp, and nod your head, and he pushes your shirt off your shoulders, lifts your legs so you’ll wrap them around his waist, and pushes inside you. You both moan, kiss, moan again, and then you wrap your arms around his broad back, hook your fingers in his vest, and hold on while he pounds your body roughly against the door.
“Oh, Aaron, fuck. Yeah. Want you to slam your body against mine; want to feel it, want to feel all of you.” He looks into your eyes, breathing hard, fucks up into you, hands on your ass, his hips and torso pinning you in place.
“Sweet, pretty, slutty girl,” he pants, spreading you open and shoving himself inside your pussy. “You tried tempting me, and oh, did it work. I might not have shown it…” He ducks in to kiss the base of your throat and you cling tighter, rock against his hips. “But it worked. You dressed like a whore just for me, just so I’d notice you; do you I know went home and stroked my cock and came with your name on my lips?”
“Holy shit. That’s so hot.” You move a hand to his hair again, can’t not thread your fingers there now that it’s allowed. “Could have fucked me like this then. Could have come in my pussy, not your hand.”
“We’ll make up for lost time,” he promises, and he thrusts up with his whole body, so you can feel it pressed against yours—shoulders, chest, stomach, all the very best parts of him. “I’m not too much for you? Can you take it?”
“Perfect for me,” you gasp, holding tightly to his vest at his shoulder and his shirt at his hip, bouncing into his thrusts. “So perfect, want you. I can take it. I can take it, Aaron.” Your mouths meet for a messy, hot kiss, lots of tongue, and you groan. “Give it to me, give it all to me.”
He bends his knees a little more, fucks you so rough and hard your mouth falls open and all you can do is whimper, clutch him, gracelessly kiss back when he presses his lips to yours.
He comes first, holds tightly to your hip and pumps inside you, fills you and then some, so it drips out while he’s still inside. It feels sinful, even after everything, and with a few rough drags of his palm over your lace covered nipple, you tighten and grip him and gasp out his name.
You both slow, and then he turns you, leans back against the door for a little relief after holding you up for so long. He nuzzles into your hair, and you bury your face in his neck, and you kiss soft and sweet until you’re feeling stable enough to hop out of his arms and put your clothes back on. He rights his as well, and when you’re both put together he wraps you up in a hug, kisses you, holds you with soft hands on your cheeks.
“I really have waited so long for this.” He brushes his lips over yours, and you sigh. “You never indicated… I was trying to be professional. Then out of nowhere you were leaning over my desk and bending over the table, and I was a little blown away.” You nod, can see that, pull him down for a kiss.
“It’s the goddamn suits,” you say with a half smile, and he gives you a curious look. “Your new, better fitting suits? They fit you so fucking well it’s almost illegal; I’m thinking of pursuing charges against your tailor for reckless endangerment on behalf of my libido, and the coffee carafe, and my poor, worn out vibrator.” He chuckles, hugs you closer, squeezes you so tightly against his body you almost pass out from all the good things you feel.
“Maybe we can strike a deal,” he murmurs, pushing your hair back behind your ear, and you bite your lip, nod.
“Yeah, I’m sure you’ll think of something you can do to make it worth my while.”
After a little more hugging and kissing, the two of you figure it’s time to emerge from the supply closet; you don’t see your team anywhere, which surprises you, but when you get to your phone and pull up your texts, it all makes sense.
Derek: Congrats on the sex. The four of us headed home because no one wants to ride with the two of you and your pheromones.
Emily: Yay, you did it!! Drinks on me next time we go out!
JJ: You guys are loud; don’t make a habit of that.
Penelope: I hear congrats are in order! And by hear, I don’t mean hear. There’s NOT an audio clip or anything, so don’t worry about that!!
Spencer: Emily took an audio clip. Is it normal for girls to enjoy being called a whore? You don’t have to answer that.
You take a very deep breath, give him the gist of the messages—you’re on your own, they heard at least part of it, there is some potentially damning evidence that needs to be destroyed—and you leave the precinct to head home in a better mood than you’ve been in in a very long time.
Aaron takes you out for a late dinner, and he spends the night at your place, falls asleep warm and solid and very naked in the middle of your bed.
Taglist ❤️: @thaddeusly @arsonhotchner @mrsh0tchner @ssahotchie @sleepyreaderreads @mintphoenix @meghannnnnn @disgruntledchowchow @azenpal @g-l-pierce @my-rosegold-soul @ssamorganhotchner @heliotropehotch @angelhotchner @qtip-blog @gspenc @wishuhadstayed @averyhotchner
#aaron hotchner#aaron hotchner fanfic#criminal minds#criminal minds fanfic#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotchner x female reader#hotch x female reader#hotch x reader#prompt
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Hey !! i love ur writing style <3 i wanted to ask you if you could write a loki x reader where the reader and loki have been best friends for a long time now and after he faked his death in tdw he knocks on their door and the reader and loki have an argument and then they kiss?? maybe like the scene in crimson peak “you lied to me” “i did” “you told me you loved me” “i do” smth similar? :)
The Greatest Deception | loki angst fluff fic
Summary: After Loki reveals himself to be alive, Y/N has some choice words to say. Loki has a question.
Authors Note: Thanks for requesting! Also, I want to say that I fully support and acknowledge that Loki is genderfluid. Seeing as this fic was requested with Loki having he/him pronouns, I will use those pronouns. (Also, I didn’t know which pronouns you wanted me to write since you mentioned they for the reader but typically I use she/her, so lemme know if you want that edited)
Request to be on a taglist (or multiple) here! (Taglists are at the end of the fic)
MCU Masterlist #1 | MCU Masterlist #2 | Main Masterlist
PSA: Do NOT copy, steal, translate, plagiarize, republish, etc any of my works on Tumblr or any other platform. Also, do NOT claim any of my works as your own. All of these works are either requests I’ve gotten that people have wanted me to write or original ideas I’ve had for works. If you happen to take inspiration from anything I’ve written and want to write something inspired by that, please a) ask me first and b) IF I say yes, credit me as inspo in your post by tagging me and link whatever work of mine that inspired you. Thanks.
header c @/someiconsx
“Lady Y/N?”
The voice was muffled through the door and the one in question rolled from her side and onto her stomach as she laid in her bed. A low groan emitted from the creature whose limbs were tangled in the blanket and sheets.
. . .
“Lady Y/N?”
A short knock-knock accompanied the repeating words, and Y/N had a feeling of that the lovely woman who she’d love to talk to at any other time wouldn’t stop until she replied.
She pulled herself into a sitting position, smoothed over her unruly hair, and finally pulled the covers up so her pajamas wouldn’t be seen and called out, “Come in!”
The woman opened the door and sent her a sheepish smile. “The All-Father has requested your present, ma’am,” she informed her.
Y/N furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. “Do you know the reason as to why?” She quizzed.
The woman spared a quick, darting glance at Y/N’s window. “Well, the All-Father has requested all of the palace’s royals and higher-ups to gather in the courtyard. He is gathering local citizens for a, ah, play, and more would like, in this words, his ‘most esteemed confidants to enjoy,’,” she answered, subtly bouncing her weight from one foot to the other.
Y/N thought for a moment. This was the first time she was hearing that the King was holding a play — not to mention, the fact that the last play (if you could even call it that, because by Heimdall’s recounting it was horrific) was held before any of the children of Odin were born.
Just thinking about that caused a twinge to hit her stomach and for it to twist up. Loki. Odin’s youngest child and the one that had most recently left her, as he sacrificed herself to save his vaillant brother, Prince Thor. It had been weeks, maybe even a month, since Y/N had heard the news and had been resorted to a lonely, saddened version of herself. Loki was her best friend, the person she trusted more than anything and—no, no, who was she kidding? He’s more than that, and he deserves to be remembered as more than that by her.
He’s also the one that she loves, and has loved for at least the past year when she realized it.
Nonetheless, she had taken many steps to get through the grief of Loki’s dead — as had his father — and she wasn’t going to let all her hard work crumble down on one, singular thought.
“Very well, then. Please inform the All-Father that I will be there shortly, thank you,” she said.
The woman nodded and bowed her head before exiting.
Once the door had been fully shut and she could hear footsteps no more, Y/N crossed over to her window and drew back the curtains, not having missed the look at said window.
The sunlight poured into her room but the stage was indeed sent. Rows of fine chairs sat with rows of fine people in them. In front, Odin stood with a red curtain drawn closed behind him. His arms were gesturing wildly and he had a big grin on his face as he gave his speech.
Despite the curiosity that itched into Y/N’s face, she pushed it aside. She had never seen the King conduct himself in such ways, but alas, everyone grieved differently. So, she closed the curtains and got dressed for the day ahead.
— — — — — — — — — — — — —
The moment Y/N stepped outside, she could’ve sworn that there was already long beads of sweat trailing down her skin. She let out a huff but journeyed on towards the courtyard, as this formal royal wear was necessary and she had no intention of pissing off Sir Snotty-Dickhead — as she called him (he had some fancy and long name she couldn’t remember, in her defense) — who was Odin’s right hand man.
By the time she got there, Odin was still rambling on with his speech, but his sudden notice of Y/N saved the guests from boredom.
“Aha, the guest of honor! Lady Y/N, herself,” Odin announced, bringing his hands together in a clap and gesturing for her to come toward him.
She betrayed herself and her cheeks involuntarily reddened as all eyes laid on her. She approached Odin and curtsied out of respect, but her mind was full of wonderings of why she, of all, would be singled out.
“I’m sure you all know who Lady Y/N is, yes?” He began, briefly pausing before continuing. “If you sadly do not, let me tell you. Lady Y/N had been a friend of the royal family, specifically my child, Loki’s—” the name caused her to suck in a sharp breath, “—and she was granted the title of Lady to uphold the image of the palace and to complete very important Asgardian duties.”
Once he stopped talking and the crowd clapped politely, Y/N took the opportunity she was presented before it’s door could close and quickly went and sat in her seat, the only seat not occupied yet, in the front row.
Odin then began speaking against whilst he walked to the side, “Speaking of my dear child Loki, this play that has been put together is one designed to honor him and his heroic sacrifice. Without further ado . . . ” He let his words trail off, and the red curtain pulled open.
Y/N’s face contorted into surprise at the words, not expecting this to take place. Again, she reminded herself, everyone grieved differently, so she decided to give it a chance. However, as the play went on, she was quick to realize that honoring Loki wasn’t the intention here. The horrid acting could be excused but Odin himself allowing this mockery of how Loki died? Of how he sacrificed himself? Well, with every second that passed, her face heated more and more — and not due to the sweat — and she grit her teeth, just barely refraining from yelling.
The worst part for her came though when the actor who played Loki did a dramatic reenactment of his sacrificed and the actor who played Thor did the worst fake crying ever. Y/N turned to the others, expecting them to be just as enraged as she was, but was floored to find that no—they were laughing. And not just that, but Odin was having himself a chuckle as well!
Her fingers tightly gripped the edges of her chair and she forced herself to look straight ahead, just about able to hold in her tears until the play was over and the actors bowed.
— — — — — — — — — — — — —
Afterwards, while everyone was standing and giving Odin rounds and rounds of praises, Y/N stayed rooted in her seat. She couldn’t just let this go by as if it were nothing, but she was struggling to compose herself to confront him.
After a couple minutes of going back-and-forth, she decided, screw composure. She didn’t have to be composed. She was allowed to be angry.
So, she stood up and marched straight for him.
“All-Father,” Y/N said through grit teeth, forcing herself to curtesy, “I request your company in private, if I may.”
It took Odin a moment to tear himself away from accepting his latest comment, but the way he quickly glanced over at Y/N, she knew that he had not noticed — or perhaps he did not care — the state she was in.
“My apologies, Lady Y/N, but should I depart now, I fear I shall upset my comrades!” Odin said, ending his comment in a boastful joy, which resulted in laughter and cheers.
He didn’t wait for her response before engaging in another conversation, and Y/N’s lips remained tightly shut until she decided to just go forth and let her stuffed-up emotions out.
“Fine. I will say it in front of everyone, then!” She said, firmly and loudly, gaining everyone’s attention. “That was a pathetic excuse to remember Loki . . . It was an insult! You mocked him, your own child! How could you even— I . . . I just don’t understand . . . He sacrificed himself for your son and for Asgard and this is how you repay him? God. I expected much, much more from you for him because I . . . Let’s just say that we both love Loki, in our own ways, and I-I . . . I am very disappointed.”
Wanting to flee from the tears that were now streaming down her face and from the silence that was pounding, she turned around and she walked away, the realization that she had just confessed her love in front of everyone hitting her.
“Lady Y/N!”
Odin’s words stopped her in her tracks, but she did not turn around. Just stood. Waited.
“He told Thor, before he passed, that he, uh . . . He loved you, too.”
Y/N stared straight ahead, her hand jutting out to grab the pillar next to her to steady herself.
Loki loved her?
She didn’t stop the tears from coming this time. She let them, and the sobs, overwhelm her.
— — — — — — — — — — — — —
“Lady Y/N?”
The voice and the knock were much more stiff than they were this morning.
“Come in.”
Her response was devoid of emotion, much more curt than it was this morning.
The same woman turned the door’s knob and opened it, sending Y/N, who was curled up on her bed, head nestled into her knees, a wary look. “The All-Father has requested your presence at his quarters,” she said.
Y/N let out a small huff, in no mood to talk to the King after what had happened. She forced her head up and gazed boredom at the woman. “Is it an emergency?” She deadpanned.
The woman looked around the room and by her lack of response, Y/N knew that either she didn’t know or didn’t want to say.
She sighed. “I will be there shortly,” she said.
The woman nodded and wordlessly left.
After she did, Y/N stood up and went in front of her mirror, taking in her appearance. Her once brushed hair was now frizzy and in knots and her eyes were puffy and red. Angrily, she practically tore the hairbrush through her hair and dabbed at her eyes with makeup until the red could be seen no more. She had no intention of letting him see her this way.
— — — — — — — — — — — — —
Screw formalities, Y/N thought, as she walked straight into Odin’s quarters which composed of a small living room, a bedroom down the hall, an office, and a bathroom. She didn’t bother to curtsy or announce her presence.
When he finally and gradually turned around from whatever he was doing, a slight look of shock crossed his features, before he replaced it with a warm smile. “Y/N!” He said, but quickly corrected himself, “Lady Y/N.”
Y/N frowned and crossed her arms. “I hope that you have called me here to apologize,” she said, an icy edge to her voice.
Odin nonetheless looked at her kindly. “In a way, yes,” he vaguely said, before a magical transformation underwent before her.
His wrinkles disappeared, his beard disappeared, his grey hair turned jet black, and his clothes transformed into his usual wear.
No longer was the All-Father standing in front of her, but her best friend. The one she loved.
Taken by utter shock, Y/N instinctively stumbled back, her jaw dropping and her eyes widening. “What the hell is this?” She gasped out, not wanting to believe it at first. It was a cruel trick — it must be! There was no way.
“It’s me,” the mischievous deity said, a rare softness to his voice and in his eyes. He took a step forward, but then stopped himself. “I never died, I only impersonated my father.”
Y/N stared at him, angry tears coming to her eyes once more. “How?” She forced out, thinking that maybe she was dreaming. “Why?”
Loki looked around, slightly dumbfounded, as if he hadn’t expected anyone to question him. “I wanted the throne,” he answered, as if it were obvious and a perfectly acceptable reason.
Y/N stared at him as if he had grown two heads. To her, he might as well have.
“Oh, really? So you take over your father, trick everyone - me, your brother - into believing that you’re dead, you banish Sif . . . All because you wanted the goddamn throne?” She cried.
The cluelessness left his eyes and replaced itself with guilt, regret pooling inside him. He looked down, shoulders falling with a sigh.
“I’ve felt guilty tricking you ever since it had all went down. I wanted to tell you but, honestly, a part of me didn’t think you’d be that upset over my death. But you were really, so upset and I . . . I was lost. I didn’t know what to do. All I wanted to do was hug you and tell you that it was fine, that I was here, but I thought I’d screw up your emotions and hurt you even more,” he admitted.
Y/N just looked at him, her frown growing deeper. “That’s an awful excuse,” she hissed out, words laced with venom.
Loki immediately snapped his head up to look at her and his gaze held desperateness. “It’s not an excuse,” he said quickly. “It shouldn’t be. I’m . . . I’m so sorry. The last thing I ever wanted to was to trick you, and . . . I did. But today was the final straw. I couldn’t continue like that.”
Y/N took a step forward, having an inner battle in herself on whether or not to forgive him. “You lied to me,” she reiterated bluntly.
Loki nodded guiltily. “I did,” he agreed in a small voice.
She took a pause, taking in a deep breath. “You told me you loved me,” she added.
There was a brief moment of silence before Loki said, in the same small way but a little more firm now, “I do.”
Y/N kept walking, not even fully sure or convinced of what she was doing, but knowing that she needed to do it, until she was standing just inches away from him. They looked at each other for a couple moments, neither saying anything, until Y/N wrapped her arms around Loki. He returned the embrace.
“Never do that to me again!” She yelled through the tears that were now coming. God, was she tired of crying. Especially today.
Loki hugged her tighter, his own tears falling. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered, and repeated that over, and over, and over again. “I’m an idiot.”
Y/N leaned back and cupped his face with her hands. The love she had for him overwhelmed her pain, and more than anything she needed him now. Besides, she could see his guilt. She could see the truth shining in his eyes. He wouldn’t do anything like this again, because he loved her. And she loved him.
“At least you’re self-aware,” she whispered through a sniff, taking a page out of his book with her joking remark. Before he could quip back (and she was sure he’d have an excellent one), she leaned forward and captured his lips in his a kiss. Loki smiled against her lips and wrapped his arms around her waist.
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On tvN’s You Quiz on the Block, SUGA told stories from before his debut. The period of his life when he struggled with how to live off his music. SUGA and BTS have kept going and going for eight years, and now he’s on their grounds, where he can do anything he wants musically. What began with that long journey is the story of SUGA holding his head up higher and staring at the future, reaching for it.
How are you feeling after your shoulder surgery? You’re doing physical therapy in parallel with work.
SUGA: I’m all right. I’m keeping up with the physical therapy, too. I had surgery last year because I wanted to be able to go back to work sooner. I have nothing else to do except music.
You said that there’s nothing for you to do other than music in the “BE-hind Story” interview on YouTube, too.
SUGA: It’s true. I tried gaming, but I have no talent for it. The people I play with online get so frustrated if I do. I mean, I’m working hard and got some recognition in my life, and yet people bash me so hard in games. (laughs)
I wonder if there’s a game you can do better in than you do in your career. You’re currently at your sixth week at number one on the Billboard Hot 100 [with “Butter, at the time of this interview]. (laughs) How are you feeling these days?
SUGA: When we were at number one for two weeks straight, I was like, Wow, this is so amazing! But after the fifth or sixth week, we really started to talk about it between ourselves: I really can’t believe this. Anyway, I feel like I have a responsibility. And I think I’ll end up thinking much, much more when we get ready for the next promotion. Even if I just try to enjoy this situation, it hasn’t sunk in. We can’t leave the country, plus there’s lots of issues in the world right now that are much more important than how well we perform on the charts.
As you say, it’s a tough situation, all over the world. How do you feel about releasing “Permission to Dance,” with its positive message, at this point in time?
SUGA: It seems like everyone around the world is really tired of this situation dragging out. I wanted to convey a message that tells people to keep hanging on to hope until the very end. Whereas we released the album BE in this situation, seemingly without any certainty, I believe things will slowly get better now. I don’t know if we can go back to the way things were before, but I’m still working with the hope that we can return to a situation that resembles what we had before.
Aren’t you tired of the pandemic being in this prolonged state?
SUGA: I look at it as, when you lose one thing, you gain another. I ended up being able to see my family more since I’m in Korea. In that sense, I feel more stable, so I’m not so much tired as hoping each day that things will become okay soon. I keep moving back and forth between work and home, and I’ve started to reflect on parts of myself I didn’t know about before. Like that I feel somewhat comfortable when I start and finish work at a certain time. While I used to have to go to bed at a certain time for work the next day or else I had a hard time getting up early, now I know I’ve figured out what time I should wake up at to make sure I feel good all day. What I pursue in life is emotional stability, and I don’t think there’s really anything too exciting or sad happening these days.
What effect do those emotions have when you work on music?
SUGA: They don’t have a big effect on it. I think it affects the way I write lyrics a bit, but I’m not working on any lyrics at the moment. I’ve been making music for a long time, so I think it’s possible for me to express emotions I’m not feeling in the moment. And it’s good that we released “Permission to Dance” in this kind of situation.
You sing rather than rap in “Permission to Dance.” In addition to rapping, you started singing more both before and after BE. What did you learn about your voice?
SUGA: “Permission to Dance” was a little bit difficult. I don’t draw a line between singing and rapping or anything, but it was different from our usual style, and the vocals were a bit high, too. So even though it took a while to prepare for it, I worked hard, and even when I asked some older musicians for their opinions, they all said, “It’s good the way you’re doing it. Don’t try to sing better—just sing more.” I think my only option is to sing more, like they suggested.
As far as style goes, you’ve been doing a smoother kind of pop music. Did any differences arise as a result of these changes?
SUGA: All things considered, the English was the hardest part. I paid close attention to my pronunciation in “Butter” and “Permission to Dance.” It wasn’t easy to capture that smooth feeling in the songs, so I practiced my pronunciation quite a bit. And I end up breathing a lot when I’m doing an English song, but the rap parts were a bit hard for that reason. There’s a clear difference from Korean songs, since English has so many syllables. But I don’t have any one method I stick with for my vocals yet, so I tend to try lots of different things out.
What do you make of BTS’s achievements over the past year with “Permission to Dance” and “Butter,” as well as the group’s change in style? In the space of a year, you’ve released songs in a style different from MAP OF THE SOUL: 7 or BE.
SUGA: As a producer, I think reactions are important to an artist who works within the field of popular music. With that in mind, speaking as a producer, “Dynamite,” “Butter” and “Permission to Dance” were the best choices. And musical tastes are different from country to country, and the cultures are different, too. Given that situation, I think it’s important that we’re a group who can send such a universal message out into the world.
BTS has really grown and changed a lot, starting with “No More Dream” and all the way to “Permission to Dance.”
SUGA: I think it’s a natural course of event for those of us who make pop music. Artists mix and match different genres as they grow, and the music develops as the people of its time listen to it. I’ve been listening to a ton of music lately, and thanks to the times we live in, if I listen to a song a few times, they recommend me more songs in a similar style. And after listening to them, I realized the style of hip hop is also changing and is splitting off into different offshoots. Other than hip hop, I also listen to a lot of instrumental music. I’ve always liked Hans Zimmer’s music. There have been many times where a movie I like turns out to have music by Hans Zimmer.
What is it about Hans Zimmer’s music that draws you in?
SUGA: I like orchestral music. There’s a lot of pop songs that are under the three-minute mark now, and whereas it’s sort of predetermined that they’re always written with intros that are four bars long, orchestral music can do a lot within its framework.
But, as can be seen in IU’s song “eight,” which you both produced and featured on, you broke out of pop music’s typical composition style and tried out a highly condensed progression. The composition of the chorus is very straightforward.
SUGA: Yes. I insisted that the flow be roughly cut in half from that of a typical song, and I expect more pop music will be like that in the future. And maybe even shorter as time goes on. I mean, these days there’s songs that are under two minutes, even.
Regardless, I felt the chorus in “eight” is extremely dramatic with its structure and the melody of the chorus. I thought it was rather grand in scale as well. Would you say that you’re attempting to mix your tastes and things you want to do into the structure of pop music?
SUGA: As you know, I love hip hop, so when I was first making music I thought it had to be hip hop no matter what and that I had to take pride in my own ideas and not accept any compromise. But while getting some experience at the forefront of pop music, I figured out that you can keep being stubborn or inflexible because there are people listening to you. There was a time I made music without any listeners before I became a member of BTS. But if someone were to ask if I stopped being stubborn about the music I’m making these days, the answer’s no. As I grew up and became an adult, I came to realize that I have to negotiate between what I want to do and the kind of music the public wants without compromising anything. When I give up on something I wanted to do, I ask myself, What will I get out of this? And conversely, when I want to do something, I ask myself, What can I get out of this? That’s how I keep my balance to make it to where I am now.
You have no choice but to think about those things when you work on other artists’ songs, especially when you’re a producer.
SUGA: I’m BTS’s SUGA, and I’m Agust D, and when I’m producing, I go by “by SUGA.” But when it comes to by SUGA, I make perfectly commercial music. I’m the producer for those songs, sure, but the owner is someone else, you know? In that case, they’re commissioning my work. But they wouldn’t think about just leaving it all with SUGA. The artist’s label has to think carefully about whether to commission me for producing and consider my situation, too, and those people must be hoping for something commercial. That’s the most important part of working with outside people. Actually, that kind of work isn’t much of a benefit to me, to be honest. Oh, he can write this kind of song, too. That’s all. The more valuable thing I can get from it is the recognition and records the artist or the company will get with the song instead.
As you noted in your previous Weverse Magazine interview, when you discussed your “interest in the music industry in the US,” you seem to constantly think about the things artists can do within the framework of the music industry.
SUGA: I don’t know. It’s just that I’ve become more certain since the pandemic started that I’m the kind of person who always has to be doing music. That much I know for sure, so I want to keep on making good music. And the pop music market is something that came about because there were people listening, and there’s a long history to the US music market, and it possesses the most influential charts in the whole word. So then I thought, Wouldn’t they have gone through all the same things that we have? And really, whenever I talk to other pop stars, the situation is always similar. The US is also more realistic about commercial results than any other country. I wanted an accurate picture of how those people work. Right now, Korean pop music’s spread is in full swing and we need more good artists to keep popping up. From a producer’s standpoint, if that’s going to happen, I think the key is how well we can mix our music and the characteristics of overseas music industries overall.
How did it feel to be in the lineup for the Grammy Awards, one of the icons of the US music industry?
SUGA: The feeling was less immediate because we couldn’t be there in person, and it wasn’t a huge distinction, but the performance made me think, This is different, because it’s the Grammys. What changed my view from the first time I went to an American music awards ceremony was, the first time I went, I was really scared of the world’s biggest music market. But when I look back now, I don’t think I had any reason to feel that intimidated. To be honest, I have only now begun to enjoy the awards ceremonies; I wasn’t able to then.
It’s no exaggeration to say that you’ve achieved most of the things that you can as an artist in the music industry. What steps do you think are necessary for the artists who follow after BTS?
SUGA: The way artists work seems so difficult. They make an appearance on a different music show every day once the promotional period begins, meaning the exhaustion artists face is enormous, and that fatigue often results in injuries as it adds up. That kind of music show is for promotional purposes, so it’s not like the artists can earn a proper income from them. On top of that, despite all the promoting, there’s no visible outcome, so they inevitably lose morale. If possible, it’d be nice to have one of the performances be really high-quality, even if it’s just the one, but in this environment I’d say that’s pretty difficult. And since our job doesn’t fit the common conception of work, there’s ambiguous boundaries when it comes to issues of legal protection as well. We need a lot of improvements to be made to the industry and its system.
They demand a lot of things as collateral for success, yet success is extremely difficult to attain.
SUGA: The great thing about the label I’m with is they listen to the artists’ opinions. I think both we and the label know to a certain degree what kinds of activities would be best commercially speaking. But the question is whether the body can endure it or not. If the fatigue builds up as you continuously do those promotional activities, it’s hard to do them the way you did when you first debuted. In that case, I think the label ought to actively accommodate the artist’s views about what they can and cannot do. An attitude that’s just like, Oh, we made you kids, and as long as you just do what we tell you to it’ll all work out, so just do it—I think that really doesn’t make any sense. Of course, there could still be situations where the label has to be pushy like that, obviously. But I heard there’s been times where a label will just say, Do it, without any explanation to the artist, or, Why are you talking so much? I think that’s the biggest issue and it’s destroying the industry. If you just see the artist as a product, how can they do anything creative? I really think it’s very contradictory to ask the people on stage to put on an enjoyable performance when they’re experiencing neither fun nor enjoyment.
That reminds me of the music video for “Daechwita” somehow. You appear onscreen as both a rebel character and a king, looking as different as your situation when you first debuted with BTS and your situation now.
SUGA: There was a lot I wanted to do in “Daechwita,” not just musically but also visually, and a lot of ideas came to me as I came to reflect on who I am as a person while working on the music video. It naturally occurred to me to separate SUGA, by SUGA and Agust D. The character I played in that video who wasn’t the king was a stranger. It takes place during the Joseon era, but then there’s cars and guns, which of course don’t belong in that era. I think we’ve been living our lives that way. Right from our debut, a portion of the hip hop lovers criticized us by saying, They’re idols. But at the same time, we heard things like, They’re not idols. I didn’t know which drumbeat to march to, so I think that’s why each of our albums took a different direction than people were expecting. But I don’t think I can call myself a stranger in this situation anymore. So these days my main goal is to keep going with BTS for a long time. Having a huge audience show up at our concerts is nice, but I think the goal for all of us is to make sure the group can keep making music even as we get older. I think right now we’re thinking a lot about how we can have fun and be happy on stage.
What do you mean when you say fun and happy music?
SUGA: I think people are happier the busier I am, so lately I’ve been thinking that I need to focus a little more. I figure we should do as much as we can for ARMY since they feel happy watching us. We’ll continue to try our best, so I hope they believe in BTS and keep their eyes on us.
So that’s why you do music.
SUGA: This is the only thing I know how to really do. Other than music and BTS, there’s nothing special about me when I look at this 28-year-old Min Yoongi. That’s why I want to keep doing this.
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Late Night
Chris Evans x Female Reader
Summary: You meet Chris working in a bar, before he invites you to his house after closing.
WC: 3,525
Warnings: maybe a quick make out?? idk if I need to warn that, but better safe then sorry. Fluff, fluff, fluff
A/N: I’m sort of feeling a part two, because I’ve been in such a fluffy turned smutty mood recently. Anyone down?? Lemme Know :)
Tagging the lovelies that wanted this! @maximeevansblog @saltyflowermakertaco
MASTERLIST
You’ve been working in this small bar for years now; it mainly catered to older folks, the owners having fallen in love with the 40s and 50s and themed their bar after that. You quickly fell in love with the decades as well, hearing the old music and seeing all of the older people’s faces light up, reliving their glory years. However, usually, there were a couple younger groups there to relish in the theme a bit.
You started as a waitress at 18, trying to work your way through college. Quickly, you moved up to bartender, before one slow night when you randomly decided to sing along to one of the songs that the Thursday night live band always played. They were a pretty good group, and you soon found yourself listening to the songs they played in your free time. After you sang with them, the owners decided to add you to the regular Thursday night entertainment, still bartending on other nights.
You were nearing the end of your set, just two more songs to go before you could take off the heels you had ridiculously decided to wear tonight. They were very 50s and you loved the look, but, carelessly, you hadn’t broken them in yet. You thought you would be fine, but your typical little dance during Fly Me to the Moon had suffered greatly. However, they matched your midi-navy-polka-dot dress and your pin-up style curls, so it wasn’t a total loss.
“Alright everybody, we’re getting close to that time of the night,” you hummed into the microphone, “for this next one we’re gonna slow things down a bit. To those of you I’ve been watching sit in your chairs all night, you’ve only got two more chances to ask your ladies to dance. Even if you don’t know how, ask her anyway, she'll love it.” you joked.
The band started to play Paul Anka’s Put Your Head on My Shoulder, a personal favorite of yours.
“And remember, if anyone needs a partner, I’m ready and willing,” you joked as the intro played. Quite a few times, older men who no longer had a partner took you for a spin for a song or two and you loved it.
You hummed a bit before you started singing along.
As you were singing, you watched a few of the younger guys in the back finally bring their girls out on the floor. Smiling as you watched them, you swayed back and forth.
You kept going with the song, almost at the end, glad that someone hadn’t asked you to dance, because your feet were really killing you.
You finally finished it off, earning a small applause as you twirled with the mic.
“Alright y’all, last song of the night and you know what that means as well,” you spoke to the crowd, “last call for alcohol,” you sang out.
You pointed back at the bar, and your friend who was tending tonight, before she waved at the group. A few people left the dance floor to get a drink as you continued your end of the night spiel, “fellas still sitting by themselves, last chance to take a spin on the floor. I see you still sitting there in the back! It’s a short song, I promise,” you chastised the last table you saw still sitting there.
Two couples from that table got up to dance, leaving one man sitting by himself. You felt kind of bad for turning everyone’s attention to him, but you had offered earlier to dance if anyone needed a partner, so the ball was in his court.
You signaled to the band to start up and spoke, “alright here we go,” into the mic.
It’s Been a Long, Long Time kicked off, and you instantly swayed. The band didn’t usually play this song, but after your Marvel obsession kicked in, you convinced them to add it to the set list.
You sang away, loving life, but your eyes didn’t leave the man in the back. He was obscured by shadows - probably purposefully - but you felt drawn to him already. Something about him sent tingles down your spine.
Before you knew it, the song was over. You took a small bow before turning and pointing at your band, getting the audience to applaud them individually.
“Thanks everybody, have a good night and drive safe. Hope to see you next week!” you spoke quickly and everyone filed off the dance floor to collect their things.
“Thanks, you guys, that was a good show!” you spoke to the band before you rolled up your mic cord and packed it away backstage. As soon as it was safely in its case, you took a seat on one of the saxophone cases and started rubbing your feet.
Soon, the band came back to put their instruments away and you reluctantly gave up your seat. You headed to the bar to sit with your friend while she finished cleaning up; this gave you a chance to rest your feet a little more before attempting to maneuver yourself home.
You glanced around the room quickly and everyone had cleared out except the back table. They were all standing, putting on jackets, and just beginning to file out the door. The couples went first hand-in-hand, followed by the single man. You looked back at your friend and began to make small talk about the next night, seeing as you were off, before you felt a tap on your shoulder.
“That was a great set,” the man spoke out in a low raspy voice, “I wish I had a dance partner.”
“Thank you, but if I remember correctly, I did offer to dance with anyone. Anyone included you, Chris,” you quipped back lightly, chuckling.
“Well, doll, the way you were stumbling about up there, I didn’t want to risk it,” he joked back, “and you know who I am?”
“I’m gonna head in the back to finish cleaning up and then we can go,” your friend spoke, gently tapping your forearm. You usually carpool to work because you live a few houses down from each other and it just makes sense.
“Alright, sounds good,” you answered her before turning back to Chris, “well I did just sing Steve and Peggy’s song. I wouldn’t be doing it justice if I didn’t know at least its major history. And I don’t think I was stumbling.”
“Okay, fair,” he answered, “maybe stumbling wasn’t the right word, but I can tell your feet hurt in those shoes.”
A small silence settled between the two of you as you got lost in his eyes, barely registering what he had said. His lips curled into a small smile as he gazed back. His eyes darted from yours to your lips for only the slightest second, before wandering down to your feet, which you were rolling slightly on the leg of the barstool, attempting to massage them a little. He looked back into your eyes again, his smile growing. The tension in the room rose quickly, and you began to get a little hot under his gaze. You were wondering how you ever got so lucky to have Chris freaking Evans looking at you like that.
“I’d offer to get you a drink, but you did say last call a little while ago,” he spoke slowly.
“That I did,” you answered, “maybe next time.”
“Or, I could take you somewhere else,” he offered lightly, his voice raising in pitch.
“Hmm, I don’t know if my feet are up for it,” you said softly, “and I don’t know where else we would go on a Thursday night. Everyone is probably announcing their own last call.” You were surprised by your own confidence in front of him. You had no idea how you were keeping it together, let alone flirting.
“Another option,” he suggested, “I could offer you a nightcap at my place. Or maybe coffee? A glass of wine?”
“Eager there are we?” you quipped.
“Well, what can I say, that last song did it for me,” he chuckled, “but really, it would be totally casual, no expectations.”
You thought for a moment, weighing the options. He probably wasn’t a murderer, or a kidnapper. He was probably one of the gentlest guys you could go home with, and lord knows you’ve taken a few risks with others.
“Totally casual doesn’t sound too bad.”
“Really?” he asked, “great! Do you have a car here?”
“No, we carpool,” you said, gesturing at your friend who had just walked back into the room.
“Ready to go?” she asked.
“Actually I was going to head out with Chris,” you said, looking at him while you spoke.
“Oh, okay,” she said, her voice dropping slightly, “well, I’ll lock up the front and we can head out the back together then.”
“Great,” Chris answered, his eyes never leaving you.
You slipped your shoes back on and stepped down from your stool. You grabbed your purse from next to you and turned to grab your jacket, which was no longer on the back of your chair. You looked up and saw Chris holding it open for you and you slipped your arms in, your heart swooning wildly. You smiled at each other and followed your friend out the back.
You hugged her quickly, whispering “I’ll send you my location,” in her ear. After all, a girl can’t be too careful.
You followed Chris to his car around the front of the building, where he opened the door for you before jogging around to the driver’s side.
His car was nice, as to be expected, but not flashy and you enjoyed his modesty. It smelled freshly cleaned - a big plus - but also rode incredibly smoothly. You were more than content to drive around with him, listening to pop songs and belting out musicals, but before you knew it, he was pulling into his driveway.
He got out first, stepping out quickly. You waited half a second, sending your location to your friend quickly. As you were reaching for the door handle, it was being pulled from the outside. Always a gentleman, he is.
Chris flashed you a charming smile as you stepped out, swinging your purse over your shoulder.
“This way, darlin’,” he spoke lowly, shutting the car door. His hand was quick to find a home on your lower back, gently guiding you towards the front door.
Once up the stairs, he crossed in front of you, unlocking the door and slowly pushing it open. The alarm on the wall chirped, signaling the opening of the front door. Chris quickly bent down with his hands in front of his knees, preparing for the impact. Dodger came flying around the corner having heard the chirp, and slammed right into his dad’s hands before jumping onto his dad’s legs begging for pets.
“Hey bubba, how you doin’?” Chris spoke to his best friend, rubbing his ears, “this here is Y/N, be nice to her buddy, no jumping.”
Dodger quickly took notice of you and immediately tried to jump onto your legs, a greeting you weren’t necessarily against, but since Chris said no, you quickly pushed your hand down and met him on the ground. He sat at your feet, immediately accepting your presence.
“He never does that!” Chris spoke, shocked at how quickly Dodger took to you.
“What can I say? I must be magic,” you joked and shrugged at him, making him laugh.
“Well let’s move out of the doorway, yeah?” Chris asked before closing the front door behind you.
Chris moved to the side of the hallway quickly; he kicked off his shoes and encouraged you to do the same. You happily followed suit, aching to get those damn heels off again. You sighed in contentment once your bare feet hit the cool hardwood floor, throwing your head back slightly, closing your eyes, and breathing deeply.
“That bad, huh?” Chris chuckled, waiting for you at the end of the hall.
“Oh yeah, I definitely have to get used to those before I try to wear them again,” you answered back.
“Well, follow me and we’ll figure out that drink I offered.”
You set your purse on the bench next to your shoes before following him into the kitchen. He strolled around the island, resting his forearms on the island.
“Take a seat, doll,” he encouraged you, gesturing to the barstools on the other side.
Usually you wouldn’t have obliged so quickly, offering to help him make whatever, but given the state of your feet, you hopped up quickly.
“Alright, so you have a lot of options, water as always, coffee, beer - my personal favorite - tequila, a slew of other liquor, juice, soda, milk, - which would be weird but whatever - wine, take your pick,” he said smiling at you.
“Coffee sounds good to me, to be honest,” you answered quietly. You would’ve chosen beer simply because it was his favorite, but you weren’t a big fan if you’re being honest.
“Coffee it is, gorgeous,” he answered, filling the pot with water and loading in the grounds, “milk, creamer, sugar, black? What do you like?”
“Milk and sugar would be good.”
“You sure? I’ve got peppermint creamer,” he coaxed you.
“On second thought...” you chuckled, taking him up on his offer.
“Alright, doll, peppermint it is,” he laughed.
Soon the coffee was ready and as excited to try the peppermint creamer as you were, you could’ve watched him flutter around the kitchen for days. He handed you a sleek navy blue mug, taking a red one himself.
“Shall we head to the living room?”
“Whatever you want, it’s your house,” you laughed.
“Alright, follow me,” he said, leading the way, “you too, Dodge,” he called over the island. Dodger had been sitting at his feet the whole time, watching his dad.
He settled into one arm of the couch, pulling the coffee table closer to rest your mugs on. He placed his mug down and gestured for you to join him. You sat on the other end of the sofa, gently, looking over at him. He threw an arm over the back of the couch, kicked his feet out in front of him, and turned his body towards yours. Dodger watched you sit down and looked at you, almost saying “you’re in my spot,” before turning around and going over to his bed by the fireplace.
“How’re your feet doing now?” he asked you.
“They’re okay, it may take a few days to recover,” you laughed back, turning to face him as well. You held your mug in one hand, bringing the other to your foot as you swung your legs up at your side.
Chris reached over towards your feet, pulling them into his lap, “here let me,” he spoke.
You blushed lightly at the very domestic action, but who would say no to a beautiful man rubbing their feet? He massaged them gently and you let out a little groan.
“You really don’t have to do that, but you’re so good at it I don’t want you to stop,” you told him.
“Well then I won’t stop, darlin’.”
He looked at you from across the couch, making your heart swoon again. You let out the quietest moan, enjoying the work of his hands, and closed your eyes.
Chris laughed lightly, whispering something to himself under his breath. You were a little lost in the moment, so you didn’t hear him.
“Sorry, what was that?” you asked him.
“Oh, nothing, just talking to myself,” he answered. You knew that wasn’t the case, but let it rest anyway; it couldn’t have been too important.
Chris started asking you about your work and friends and family, what kind of movies you liked, and music preference of course. You asked him as well, really getting to know each other. He had stopped rubbing your feet a long time ago, but kept them in his lap, an arm thrown across them, rubbing your shins and ankles lightly. Dodger was snoring loudly across the room, and had been for quite a long time. The both of you were so lost in the conversation, that you didn’t realize how late it had gotten. You glanced out the window behind him, beginning to see the sunrise.
“Oh my goodness, what time is it?” you asked him, chuckling.
He glanced at his phone quickly, “almost 5:00,” he said with wide eyes, “I didn’t realize it had gotten so late.”
“I’m so sorry,” you said a little embarrassed, “I’ve stayed way too long, I’ll just get out of your hair.” You began to pull your legs out of his lap, but he locked them down.
“You don’t have to leave if you don’t want to,” he spoke quietly, “I’ve really enjoyed your company.”
“Are you sure? I don’t want to overstay my welcome…” you trailed off.
“Positive, sweetheart. Please, stay.”
“Okay, if you’re sure,” you asked him, raising an eyebrow. He nodded slightly at you. “Then I'll stay,” you said, settling back into the couch.
“Can I get you another cup?” he asked, gesturing to your mug.
“Sure,” you answered lightly, handing it to him. He got up and trailed into the kitchen. You waited half a second before following him.
Chris heard you walk into the kitchen, turning around to look at you quickly, “sorry, can I get you something else?”
“No, I’m fine,” you answered.
“Oh, well, uh… I would’ve brought your mug back to you,” he chuckled.
“Oh that’s okay, I felt weird just sitting there,” you laughed lightly.
“Oh, okay,” he chuckled back, “well, since you’re here now, can I offer you breakfast?”
You didn’t realize how hungry you’d gotten until he offered, “only if I can help,” you responded.
“Oh well, that’s a deal breaker, darlin’,” he answered, almost seductively.
“Well then no breakfast for me,” you laughed.
He was starving too, only having had a small dinner before he went to the bar last night. He didn’t know when you’d eaten last, so you must be hungry as well.
“Well, maybe there is one way, you can help,” he said in a high pitched voice.
“What can I do?” you asked quickly.
“Come here,” he said.
You walked around the island you had been leaning on, joining him between it and the cabinets on the wall. Chris extended a hand towards you. You took it quickly and allowed him to guide you closer to him. Once you were fully in front of him, he dropped your hand and grabbed both of your hips. He picked you up quickly, surprising you, before setting you on the counter.
You laughed lightly at him, “okay, now what?”
“Now, you sit there and look pretty while I make breakfast,” he chuckled out, standing between your knees, keeping a little distance between the two of you.
“Chrissssss,” you whine out at him.
“What, doll?” he asks, taking a step closer to you as you wrap your hands around his shoulders.
“I can do more than just sit here.”
“Oh, really?” he asks, taking another step towards you, now standing between your thighs, almost flush to the counter.
“Yeah, I can,” you breathe out, barely able to contain yourself now that he’s slotted between your legs.
“Nope, darlin’, this is enough help. Promise,” he says quietly.
Chris glanced down at your lips quickly before looking back into your eyes. He ran his hands up your thighs, starting at your knees, before settling onto your hips again. The temperature in the room seemed to rise at an unbelievable rate as you stared into each others’ eyes. You could feel his breath on your lips, you were sure he could feel yours as well, the smell of coffee and peppermint radiated between you. He slowly leaned in and connected your lips.
It was like time stood still. He moved one of his hands around to your lower back, pulling your body to the very edge of the counter and flush against his chest. The other hand stayed firmly on your hip, digging in just a little. You wrapped your arms around his neck even tighter as you molded your lips together. He licked your bottom lip slightly, asking for entrance, which you granted. He explored your mouth just a little bit before pulling back, breathless, and resting his forehead against yours.
“Well, that was, uh…” he spoke.
“Yeah,” you answered, breathless as well.
You held his gaze for another second before moving forward and kissing him once again. You pecked him sweetly, before mumbling against his lips.
“I’ll let you cook, as long as you let me clean up,” you laughed a little before connecting your lips again.
Chris let the kiss hang just a little longer than a peck before pulling back completely. He pecked your forehead quickly, before answering.
“No,” he said firmly, turning around and letting out a loud laugh, one you knew so well.
You laughed right back at him, watching him start to cook and shaking your head to yourself. How did you get so lucky?
#chris evans#chris evans fluff#chris evans imagine#chris evans x reader#chris evans x female reader#chris evans x fem reader#chris evans fanfiction#Chris Evans fanfic#chris evans one shot#violetwrites
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I'm new here and very intrigued, if a little confused. Do you have a correspondence service where you mail people, say, newsletters of what's happening in your fictional world (in the theme of school newsletters from Halloween Town High or like a community newsletter from a made up town) and/or personalized letters? Give me the whole spiel!
The shortest answer
If you read @evilsupplyco -- thats me! I'm rebranding for a pile of nebulous reasons, all soft, mostly organizing my brain + plans etc.
The shorter answer
Imagine you are a queer witch, monster, ghost, or mermaid and you are in paradise with your friends (some of whom are idiots) and life is great.
The short answer
Fairy tales for grownups with a heavy emphasis on monsters falling in love ("a vampire kisses her wife, a witch, good morning") and slice of life stories ("a mermaid goes to the undersea grocery store")
With a lot of Halloween celebrations.
So many jack-o-lanterns.
There is a witch with a jack-o-lantern familiar and they adore each other but are polar opposites, as she is a being of chaotic energy and joy and hugs and laughter and living in the moment, and the familiar is stuffy and rigid and snobby and just cannot understand why everything she does/wears is so gaudy, has she no taste?
The full answer
The Netherworld is an infinite dimension full of monsters, ghosts, witches, and mermaids. There are no humans and there are no portals to Earth (or really other dimensions, given its infinite-ness, everything is well covered).
It is a paradisiacal setting -- there are no wars or conflict, there are plenty of resources for everyone and everything. This is a direct reaction to (gestures to the real world) + my bitter hatred of "conflict is necessary for storytelling" advice that got shoved down my throat for years many decades ago.
This is a general chunk of writing advice thrown about a lot because who ever reads journals or personal accounts of their day? (stares in social media)
The Netherworld adventures and styling are typical fantastical medieval Europe (castles, dungeons), with comparable technology to modern Earth with a slightly retro bent -- video stores renting VHS tapes and photo booths are barely a thing anymore in real life but I've stories coming involving both, for example.
Dungeons & Dragons meets a cheesy 80s movie. Or maybe an 80s sword and sandal movie but there is a mix of the behind-the-scenes and the movie scenery.
The stories are very short and soft and gentle. About the length of a long Tumblr post, to give context, with illustrations sprinkled in for good measure because I love drawing more than writing, but I'm a storyteller before I'm a writer or illustrator, so they both have to exist.
When i say above "here is a story about a mermaid going to the grocery store," I literally mean just that.
She wakes up, casts a spell to encase her tail in a bubble of water, writes out a shopping list, picks an outfit, kisses her sleeping wife, a dryad, on the cheek, heads out to the store, picks cereal and veggies and candy and a pop culture magazine to read later, and then comes home.
The delivery and how this differs from Evil Supply Co.:
Evil Supply Co. was a bit random and unfocused. I was making tons of stuff in a handful of genres and never really focused.
Netherworld Post is extremely focused on the stories above + physical (real world) mail. There will be faux postage stamps and postcards showing the in-universe stories.
The Peyroux Dispatch is the in-universe newspaper, and with Evil, I actually printed newspapers (21 issues!).
There were stories and rambles and illustrations and in-universe ads for slime soaps and swamp soups and monster language learning classes.
As a quick aside if anyone wants a copy of this, just ping me your email address in a message and I'll send. I have all the issues in a single file formatted for at-home printing for personal enjoyment.
When I relaunch the company (May 2022), the Dispatch is coming back. I'm redesigning it to be shorter (making it more manageable) and to have more art (which slightly dampens the "more manageable" but also increases the fun factor significantly).
Okay back to the point
The Dispatch will return as a physical newspaper. Smaller, in color. Stories rambles comics in-universe ads.
I'm snagging a real world PO box as part of a nakedly open marketing attempt to get people to send more mail (I enjoy my years-long hyper-fixation on the United States postal service), with the side benefit that of enjoying myself tremendously returning letters and cards in the voice of my characters.
If it helps move a few more stickers or postcards, grand, but really the goal is to make the world a brighter and weirder place.
Email list
I like email lists because social media algorithms ruin things. There will be a physical mailing list, as well, when the site gets closer to launch.
If you'd like to hear about the rambles as it comes together: https://www.netherworldpost.com/
Thank you!
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What’s Your Sign?: Capricorn
Genre: Dance Studio!AU
Pairing: Jaebum x You (Female!Reader)
Warnings: None
Words: 5,693
Author’s Note: Since I’m so fascinated by astrology, I decided to do a Zodiac series! I will be writing a one-shot fic for each sign featuring different members from different groups (and even an actor!). Each story will be posted on the 5th of the month during that sign’s season. Please reblog, comment, or send in an ask with your feedback! Thank you for your support 💜
It was clear he didn’t want to be here.
And by ‘he’ you meant the dark-haired guy in your dance lesson whose facial expression betrayed that he would rather be anywhere else and doing anything else right now.
But you were a dance instructor. You’d been teaching for almost five years by now, so you had seen your fair share of begrudging students.
(Though, if you were being completely honest with yourself, none of the begrudging students you’d had so far had been quite this handsome... but that is absolutely besides the point.)
As you introduced yourself to your new class and began to go over the basics, you mentally prepared yourself to spend a little extra time with him -- the handsome, begrudging student. You’d discovered that some one-on-one time with the dancers who didn’t actually want to be dancers went a long way in helping them get more comfortable and enjoy themselves.
Usually, people who had no desire to take your class were being forced by a third party -- for some reason or another -- and it was pretty clear why they had no desire to take your class: their dancing skills left a lot to be desired.
But, only a few minutes into your instructions, you were more than surprised and shocked to see that this guy actually had some natural talent.
A lot of it.
But he also didn’t have a partner, so that one-on-one time you’d prepared for was incredibly easy to manage.
After you’d told everyone to pair off and start practicing the basic waltz square you’d just shown them, you weaved your way through the parquet floor to him with a somewhat cautious smile on your face.
If he wasn’t thrilled to be in your class in the first place, it was safe to assume he wouldn’t be thrilled for you to be his partner, but... there wasn’t much you could do about it now!
“Hi,” you greeted softly when you approached. “I noticed there wasn’t a partner for you, so I’m happy to --”
“Sure,” he muttered.
Of course, his terse interruption made you pause, but you recovered quickly and simply smiled at him. You then stepped closer to him, resting one hand on his shoulder and extending your other arm out to the side so the two of you could get into a waltzing stance.
As soon as he’d slid one hand around your waist and took the other one, grasping your fingers firmly, you waited for him to lead into the four-step box formation.
...And you almost yelped with surprise when he did.
His hold on your waist and fingers quickly became even more firm, and he pushed you subtly but confidently backward, dancing with you smoothly.
You’re not sure why this surprised you so much.
But it did.
And that made you a little uneasy.
“So,” you breathed, clearing your throat quietly. “What’s your name?”
His gaze had been inconspicuously aimed at the floor, most likely watching his feet, but it shifted to look at you when you asked your question.
“Jaebum,” he answered without hesitation, though his voice was still very brusque.
“Nice to meet you,” you replied with a slight dip of your chin. “I’m Y/N.”
“Yes, I know,” he murmured. “You introduced yourself about five minutes ago.”
You raised your eyebrows, unsure if you were bewildered or offended by his incredibly impolite response.
Probably a bit of both.
“...Right,” you said. But you had to maintain your composure and civility, so you added, “What brings you here?”
Rather than answering quickly and succinctly like he had previously, Jaebum simply furrowed his brow at you.
“You just seem less than enthusiastic, so I was curious as to why you’re here in the first place,” you explained, figuring you could at least be honest to counteract his almost-rudeness.
His forehead smoothed out, and he tilted his head to signal that you did have a point.
“One of my best friends is getting married in a few months, and he wants the wedding party to do this... dance routine.”
“And you’re not too excited about it?”
Jaebum shook his head.
“Well, if it helps, you’re a really good dancer.”
Again, Jaebum furrowed his brow at you, shooting you a confused, sidelong glance. “I am?”
He sounded genuinely perplexed which made you genuinely perplexed. He really didn’t know? Had he never taken one single dance class before?
“Yeah,” you chuckled. “You’re a natural.”
And naturally gorgeous, you thought.
Oh my god, why did you think that?
Besides the fact that it was true, of course.
To distract yourself from that thought, you added, “You haven’t taken any sort of class before?”
“No, never.”
“Could’ve fooled me,” you replied with the tiniest smirk you could muster. “You’ve barely even looked at your feet this whole time, and you haven’t tripped me once.”
Of course, Jaebum instinctively looked down at his feet and almost immediately stumbled.
“See? Once you looked down and thought too much about it, you messed up. You’ve got instinct.”
An expression of clear discomfort flashed across his face, and rather than insisting that you knew what you were talking about, you simply kept silent. You were only planning on continuing this exercise for another minute or so, and you would rather not make him any more uncomfortable than he already clearly was.
But when that minute was up... you realized... that you didn’t want to stop dancing with him.
Oh, boy.
A student who had made you feel uneasy twice in the first half-hour of class.
That was quite unprecedented.
And... very disturbing.
When the two of you got to a good stopping point, you murmured under your breath that it was time to move on.
Jaebum responded immediately, pausing his movements and loosening his hold on your hand and waist to allow you to step away.
“All right, great job,” you said, turning away to face the rest of the class and doing your best to avoid any sort of eye contact with Jaebum. “I know it may seem repetitive, but this is the foundation of a waltz. You need to be really familiar with these steps, know how to do them in your sleep, before you can move on.”
You had everyone go through the steps on their own while you played different music tracks, helping them find the four-count beat in each song and showing they could waltz to really any style of music.
All in all, it was a pretty typical class.
Except for Jaebum.
You had tried to get him -- and the way he’d briefly made you feel -- out of your mind, and while you had been mostly successful when you hadn’t been looking at him... you had been the opposite of successful when you had.
And once the hour was up, you found yourself doing something you truly hadn’t ever expected to do. The thought had never crossed your mind, yet you couldn’t stop your body from walking toward Jaebum, an anxious grin plastered on your lips.
“I was just --” you began, though you were quickly interrupted by a departing student who thanked you for a great class. “Oh, sure, you’re welcome.”
You pressed your lips together then, your gaze following the student and waiting for her to vanish through the studio door.
When she did, you looked back to Jaebum and saw that he was already looking at you, his gaze expectant. You jumped a little -- though, you weren’t quite sure why you were surprised that he was looking at you. You had been just about to say something to him.
After letting out a breathless chuckle, you inhaled sharply and continued on from earlier. “I was just wondering -- you said your friend is wanting to do some sort of routine? For his wedding?”
Jaebum nodded. “During the reception. The bridal party is all going to do a... ballroom dance... thing.”
“Do you know if the choreography is finished?”
“I believe so,” he answered, slightly lowering his brows.
You gulped.
“I -- I mean, I would be happy to help you learn it if you want to -- have the time. You could stay after class or come in whenever you’re free. I can shift things around if I need to, this job is pretty flexib --”
“Okay.”
And you were surprised yet again.
He had actually said yes? Even though you definitely sounded a bit like a bumbling idiot right now?
“Oh, good!” you said with a relieved sigh, your lips spreading into a grin.
“I can’t stay much longer today, but if you have time tomorrow?”
For some reason your instinct was to reply immediately -- in the positive, of course -- but you forced yourself to actually pull up your schedule in your head to look and make sure.
“I’m very free in the afternoon,” you told him after a few moments. “From after lunch until about four.”
Jaebum nodded tersely and said, “I can be here at two” before murmuring his thanks and heading toward the exit.
You stood there, in the same exact spot, for about five minutes after he left, mainly because you were dumbstruck. You had no idea why you’d done that, and you had no idea why you were so relieved (and excited) that he had accepted your offer.
You had literally never offered private lessons -- private free lessons! -- to a student before. Many students had requested them, absolutely, but you had never offered.
The only reason you could think of as to why you’d done this was because Jaebum was so... intriguing. He fit the stereotype almost exactly for the “Perfect Man.” Tall, dark, and handsome. Strong and silent.
...And did you mention handsome?
Very handsome.
But that was actually more of a reason not to give him private lessons. You wanted to spend more time with him, of course. But you shouldn’t.
You really, really, really shouldn’t.
Rather than wait in jittery anticipation for Jaebum to show up, you spent the first part of your day keeping as busy as you could.
You had two classes basically back-to-back in the morning, which definitely helped keep your mind off the perfectly handsome man arriving at the studio in the early afternoon. And once those classes finished, you took a lunch break and headed to a nearby deli for one of your favorite sandwiches.
Between lunch and Jaebum’s arrival time, you decided to clean the entire studio from top to bottom because that was just what you did when you were stressed or nervous: you cleaned.
A small cleaning crew visited the studio once a week to keep the floors and mirrors gleaming, of course, but it had been a little while since you’d wiped down your office and deep cleaned the reception area.
You dusted and vacuumed and scrubbed and decluttered and even rearranged some furniture just to change things up -- for almost two hours.
And it wasn’t until a quarter to two that you realized you’d made a rather large mistake.
Cleaning and rearranging furniture for two hours was hard work, and now -- fifteen minutes before Jaebum was set to arrive -- you found yourself exhausted and sweaty.
I mean, you were exhausted and sweaty a lot. Obviously. You were a dance teacher.
But the exhausted and sweaty parts of your day were always at the end of class, after you’d done all the work, not at the beginning.
...And your classes typically did not involve an incredibly good-looking man whom you were nervous about spending time with.
After putting away the cleaning supplies in the closet, you quickly ran into the bathroom to splash some water on your face. You then headed into your office and dug around in your bag for the emergency vial of perfume you kept in there -- just in case.
Thank goodness you did because it really came in handy in this moment.
Just as you stepped out of your office and back into the studio, closing the door behind you, you heard the clack of footsteps on the dance floor.
“Hello?” a soft but deep voice called out.
You jumped a little, your gaze snapping over to the studio entrance and landing on Jaebum.
A quick glance to the clock above the mirrors showed you that he was almost ten minutes early -- and that only heightened your intrigue.
You loved a man who was early.
“Hi!” you blurted out suddenly, realizing you hadn’t yet answered him. “Hi, come on in. Welcome.”
Jaebum reached into his pocket as he walked over to you, retrieving his phone and tapping on the screen with a wrinkled forehead. “My friend sent me the video of the choreography,” he muttered, his eyes flashing up at you briefly over his phone screen.
“Oh, perfect,” you grinned. You came to a stop in front of him, resting your hands on your hips as you waited for him to find the video and show you.
“Here,” he mumbled before doing just that -- turning his phone around and showing you the video.
You leaned in, and only then did you realize this was a bad idea.
Obviously, watching something on a person’s phone meant you had to be standing rather close to that person, leaning in until your heads were almost touching.
And that’s exactly what was happening right now.
You were standing rather close to Jaebum, your heads almost touching.
And, boy, did he smell amazing.
It took almost every ounce of willpower in you to concentrate on the video and not on how amazing he smelled.
When the video finished, you took a step back, hoping you hadn’t backed away from him too obviously. If you were going to be learning this choreography together, you certainly didn’t want him to think you couldn’t stand being close to him. Because that wasn’t even true!
It was just... difficult. In a good way. Kind of.
“That seems fairly straightforward,” you said, pushing all these thoughts out of your mind as best as you could.
“Yeah?” Jaebum asked, turning to look at you, a glimmer of hope in his eyes.
“Absolutely. You want to give it a shot?”
He nodded and took off his jacket, hanging it up on the rack by the door before joining you in the middle of the dancefloor. He set up his phone against the mirror, and you began guiding him through the choreography, step-by-step.
Only a few minutes in, and Jaebum stopped you. “How... how do you know the routine already? We watched it once, and you’re not even referring back to the video.”
A frown curved your lips, and you lifted your shoulders into a shrug. “I... don’t know? I just remember it.”
“Seriously?” he asked with a soft chuckle of disbelief. “How?”
“I don’t know,” you repeated. “I’ve always been this way, with dance especially. I can just picture it in my mind.”
“So, you have a photographic memory.”
...How had you never realized that before?
“I guess so?” you chuckled. “I just never thought it was different than what anyone else could do.”
A half-smile tugged at Jaebum’s lips as he got back into the dancing position, and he murmured, “No. I absolutely cannot do that.”
“Well, then, it’s a good thing I’m the dance teacher,” you retorted, trying to suppress a smirk.
He laughed softly, and you ignored the fluttering in your heart.
You spent the next hour and a half going through the first part of the routine, and even though Jaebum claimed he wasn’t able to learn choreography like you did, he still caught on quickly.
“No, you’re honestly doing a great job,” you assured him after deciding to stop for the day. “I told you, you’re a natural dancer. You have instinct!”
Jaebum simply shook his head, but you saw the smile he was trying to hold back.
As he went back toward the door to retrieve his jacket, he glanced over his shoulder at you and said, “Are you free to keep going? Go over the rest of the routine?”
“Absolutely! I wouldn’t leave you hanging like that for a wedding.”
“What if it was a birthday party?”
“Yes, maybe.”
You heard Jaebum’s deep, low chuckle, and even though you’d just spent over an hour touching him and dancing with him and being extremely close to him, the sound of his laugh still sent a shiver down your spine.
What was this guy doing to you?
“What does your schedule look like?” he asked as he slipped his jacket back on.
“Oh, here -- let me write it down for you,” you said, taking a step toward your office.
“Or --” Jaebum blurted out.
You paused, raising your eyebrows and shifting your gaze to him.
“Or you could... just text it to me.” He still had his phone handy from playing the dance video on repeat during the lesson, and he held it up as to emphasize his suggestion.
“Oh!” you chirped. “Well -- I mean, yeah, sure. That -- that works.”
Jaebum opened his mouth to say something, but then he stopped himself. He narrowed his eyes slightly at you and said, “If I just tell it to you, will you remember it without having to write it down?”
Your eyes widened with minor panic. “...Yes?” you replied uncertainly even though you were absolutely certain you could do that.
He let out a soft, breathy chuckle and shook his head.
After he told you his phone number, he murmured his thanks for the lesson and then headed through the door without another word.
You waited approximately ten seconds before scrambling to your office, fishing your phone out of your bag, and quickly entering the number into your contacts.
You wouldn’t have forgotten it, but... still. You didn’t want to take any chances. It wasn’t every day that an incredibly attractive and fascinating guy gave you his phone number.
Not that you would use it for anything other than sending him your schedule.
But. Yeah.
Jaebum was absolutely incredibly attractive and fascinating.
Either Jaebum was not a busy man or he...
Well, you weren’t actually sure what the other most viable option was.
Because the only things you could think were that he just really wanted to learn this dance routine for the wedding reception... or he just really wanted to spend time with you.
And that was definitely just wishful thinking.
Either way, Jaebum was -- apparently -- able to fit in a private lesson whenever your schedule allowed.
Did he not work? Or was he taking a lot of time off for this? Or maybe his job allowed him to be flexible like yours did.
There were so many questions you wanted to ask him and so little courage you had to actually ask them.
When he came back two days after your first private lesson, you began the lesson with those questions still occupying your thoughts but ended it with another question on your mind entirely.
And, for some reason (seemingly everything about Jaebum was a mystery, I guess, including your reactions to him), you found the question tumbling from your lips as he was putting his jacket back on to leave.
You had just spent another hour and a half teaching him the second half of the choreography; another hour and a half touching and dancing with him. Maybe that had bolstered your courage enough?
“Why do you not want to do this?” you asked, tilting your head curiously. “The dance at the wedding.”
Jaebum paused for a moment before turning to face you. “I just... What -- what do you mean?”
You felt your cheeks warms, but you continued on. “You were just so... not happy to be in that first class, and... I don’t know. Whenever I bring it up, you get this look on your face.”
His eyebrows flew halfway up his forehead. “I do?”
“Yeah,” you chuckled.
He stood there just for a second before letting out a sigh and taking a few steps toward you. “To be honest, I’m not thrilled about having to dance in front of a room full of people I don’t really know.”
While you couldn’t exactly relate to the sentiment, you still understood what it was like to be scared to do something. Or, at the very least, be uncomfortable about it.
“You’re going to do a great job,” you assured him, your heart starting to skip a beat here and there as he got closer to you.
Seriously? You had just been dancing with him. Touching him.
“I’m not saying I don’t trust you,” he said, shaking his head. “But... I’m just not... confident about it. And I don’t like that.”
Jaebum was such the epitome of the Strong and Silent type -- so far, at least -- that you couldn’t even imagine him not being fully confident in himself. And the way he danced definitely wasn’t something to be insecure about it!
“I don’t know,” he added with a roll of his eyes. “I just don’t see the point in doing a choreographed dance at a wedding.”
Okay, now that made you laugh.
“Because it’s fun,” you chuckled. “Receptions are basically just a big party, and most parties involve dancing, right?”
“Well, yeah,” he shrugged. “But they don’t have to. And you can dance without doing some full-fledged routine.”
“This is true,” you agreed, though it was mainly just to appease him.
“In my opinion, weddings should be about the marriage. The relationship. The vows you make. Not cutting a cake or a DJ playing viral songs no one really wants to hear.”
...Well. You couldn’t argue with him there.
“So, when it’s your turn to get married, you don’t even need to have a reception.”
And your heart was acting funny again. Thinking about Jaebum getting married both made you hopeful that it would be your wedding, as well, and upset that -- realistically -- it would not be. You were just his dance teacher, and he was only taking lessons until the wedding. It was highly unlikely he would come back to continue his education, and even though you had his phone number now... why would you ever have a reason to use it?
“Don’t worry,” he murmured. “I absolutely plan on eloping. Or only inviting my family and having just a small ceremony.”
“Ah, good. Now I know not to be offended when I don’t receive an invitation.”
Um... okay? Why? Had you just said that?
Thankfully, Jaebum simply smiled that tiny half-smile of his and let out a soft chuckle.
Was it weird that after spending time with Jaebum only three times you already knew his signature smile?
Despite the fact you had taught Jaebum the entire dance backwards and forwards and there was literally nothing else you could do to help him, he continued to request private lessons. He continued to show up whenever you had a free hour or two, no matter the time or day.
And while this behavior would usually suggest some sort of romantic feelings on his part, he also continued to be Strong and Silent.
He talked to you during your lessons, of course, but he was never talkative. He was always polite, but he wasn’t super... friendly.
So, in conclusion, you were still as mystified and confused by Jaebum as ever.
He didn’t like dancing but he was amazing at it.
He didn’t need you to teach him anymore but he still showed up at your studio.
You just wished you could peek into that brain of his -- just for a minute! -- to see what he was thinking.
And, because you were his teacher, you never felt comfortable asking why. Why was he still asking for lessons when he didn’t need them? Why was he always so guarded around you? Why did he never ask about your personal life?
I swear, if Jaebum ever asked if you had a boyfriend, your heart would absolutely combust.
Maybe one day you would ask him all those questions, but by then, he wouldn’t be coming to your classes any longer, and what would be the point?
Apparently, you were thinking too much about all of this because, all of a sudden, Jaebum’s voice broke through the haze in your mind.
“Y/N,” he said, his voice forceful enough to make it obvious it wasn’t the first time he’d said it.
“Sorry,” you replied hastily with a shake of your head. “Zoned out.”
“Did you hear what I said?” he asked as he stood by the coat rack, getting ready to put his jacket back on before he left with hardly a word.
That had become his routine after every class, and you had come to expect nothing different.
“Hmm? Oh -- no, sorry. What did you say?”
“I said the wedding is this weekend, so I won’t need to come back any more.”
...Oh.
That was not what you wanted to hear.
“Oh,” you replied, doing your best to sound... well, not upset about it. “Well, I know you’re going to do an amazing job --”
“I’m more nervous than I thought I would be,” he interrupted.
You froze, your mouth slightly hanging open and your unspoken words hanging from your lips.
But then you quickly pulled yourself together and said, “You are?”
He nodded tersely.
But he didn’t elaborate.
So, you bit. “...Why?”
“Because I know how to dance it with you, and what if it’s different with someone else as my partner?”
“I mean, yeah, it’ll be different,” you confirmed. “But you know the steps through and through. Even if the bridesmaid is a terrible dancer, you’ll be able to carry her through it, I promise.”
Jaebum let out a sigh and his head tilted forward, his chin practically touching his chest.
“You’ll be fi --”
“What I really wanted to say is that I wish it could be you and not someone else,” he said, interrupting you again in a quiet but strong voice.
...You stared at him.
And blinked.
“...Excuse me?”
Without hesitating, Jaebum strode over to you, only stopping when he was as close to you as he was while you’d danced.
You tilted your head to look up into his eyes, though yours were still too wide with shock to say anything.
“I... I feel more comfortable dancing with you than doing... anything else. And the reason I kept asking to come back even after you taught me the whole dance is because... I just wanted to be with you.”
Okay, you were fairly certain you were no longer breathing.
You certainly couldn’t speak at the moment, so it was very possible that your heart and lungs had just stopped working.
“You are... incredible,” he continued. “Confident and talented and kind and beautiful.”
You repeated the word ‘beautiful’, though you couldn’t even hear your own voice so you must have simply mouthed it.
...Was he really saying all this to you?
To you?
And since it was obvious you weren’t going to actually say anything yet, Jaebum continued.
“You’re why I haven’t stopped coming back. I only joined your class because my friend practically forced me; he’s one of my closest friends, and I would do anything for him, but I truly could not care less about this dumb wedding dance. I would have happily fumbled my way through it if you hadn’t been so... wonderful.”
Okay, at this point, you kind of felt like you were more shocked to hear this many words coming out of his mouth at once. You’d been teaching Jaebum for almost three months, and you were fairly certain he hadn’t said more than two sentences back-to-back.
And you, who normally had no trouble speaking, could only reply with a whispered, “...Really?”
Jaebum simply nodded, and you felt more at ease. A simple nod was much more in character.
But you had no idea what else to say because there was too much you wanted to say.
Apparently, your racing thoughts showed through on your face because Jaebum stopped waiting for you to say something. “I... don’t really want to invite you to be my date to the wedding since... I’m a groomsman and all. You would have to sit by yourself, and I don’t want to make you do that.”
Ah, so, he was thoughtful, too.
“So... maybe you’d like to meet up after the wedding? I mean, like, go out. Not meet up. Go out. On a... date.”
“Yes,” you replied, finally able to force some actual words out of your mouth. “Yes, I would love to. Please.”
And then, Jaebum’s lips curved into a smile.
A real smile.
A full-on, teeth-showing smile -- not the half-smile you’d gotten used to.
Your heart stopped.
I mean, it felt like it stopped.
And you were immensely glad he hadn’t smiled like this before because oh my god. You wouldn’t have been able to go on teaching him. You would’ve fainted.
Even now, you had to reach out and grab a hold of his arms to steady yourself.
But Jaebum must have thought you were going in for the hug, so took another step closer to you and slid his arms around your waist, pressing his fingers into the small of your back and enveloping you in his embrace.
It took you approximately .0001 seconds to melt into him, feeling the strong wall of his chest and the secure cage of his arms around you.
You’d danced with him countless times by now. His hands had held your waist for hours, and yet... You had never experienced this sensation before.
And you knew right then and there that you never wanted to live another day without experiencing it again.
OTHER SIGNS: ARIES, TAURUS, GEMINI, CANCER, LEO, VIRGO, LIBRA, SCORPIO, SAGITTARIUS, AQUARIUS, PISCES
#kwritersworldnet#jaebum scenarios#jaebum imagines#jaebum au#jaebum fluff#jaebum fanfic#jaebum#jaebeom#got7#got7 scenarios#got7 imagines#got7 au#got7 fluff#got7 fanfic#kpop scenarios#kpop imagines#kpop au#kpop fluff#kpop fanfic
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Old Faces
Summary: The love of his life, the one that got away, finally comes back into Sam’s life and he loves the life they build together, but something... is off...
Word Count: 2,490
Pairing: Sam Wilson x Reader
Warnings: Angst, panic attack, anxiety attack, implied smut
(Hate to do this to my man Sam, I love him to death and he deserves the entire universe. Part one of two. (Find Part 2 here))
Sam could never forget the first time he met you; Riley brought him home after their first tour together since Sam didn't have a family to come home to. Not that Riley had one either, he only had one person; his goddaughter, you. Sam had a pretty good idea of who you were since, according to him, Riley never shut up about you. He was so proud of you; you got into Quantico at 21, two years younger than their typical admission age of 23! You picked them up at the airport in late November, almost a week before Thanksgiving and you wore jeans with a dark blue hoodie, the words 'FBI Quantico' written in white on the front. You were vibrant, full of life and excitement. By the time Thanksgiving was over and he was going to his own place, he was head over heels in love with you. The only guilt he had was that you were only 23 at the time, more than 15 years his junior. By the time he'd worked up the nerve to ask Riley for permission, they were already due for their second tour; it'd have to wait until they got back. But, they never came back, Riley never came back. The same Sam Wilson that left was not the man who returned.
Five feet was all that was between him and the love of his life. Five feet between him and the one that got away, the one he never thought he'd see again. You just waltzed right into the VA, out of all the Veterans Affairs offices in the entire city of New York and you just walked right into the one he worked at in his free time, when he wasn't busy being an Avenger. He hadn't seen you in at least five, maybe seven years and he could see how you'd changed just in the way that you moved and conversed with the receptionist. You'd gained some muscle mass, that much was obvious even with your jacket on. You must've injured your left shoulder too, he could tell moving it too much or too quickly was painful, or at the very least uncomfortable. You wore a tired expression on your face, but not tired like you hadn't gotten enough sleep, tired like you'd just gotten out after fighting an unwinnable battle for too long. He knew exactly how that tired felt. Something about the moment seemed not-quite-right, it felt off. He couldn't place it so he ignored it.
So he approached you hesitantly, giving a small wave to get your attention; he'd learned his lesson about startling soldiers when Bucky nearly choked him for entering the living room and sitting on the couch too quietly. He watched you look over him for a brief second before recognition his and you nearly tackled him in a hug. He heard you groan quietly at the sudden movement but just tried to avoid adding pressure to your shoulder when he returned the tight hug "you're a sight for sore eyes, (y/n)." "So are you Sam, is this where you've been hiding?" You asked him with a teasing smile. "Sam Wilson never hides, what about you? Where the hell have you been?" He countered with a wide grin. "All over the place; DC, New Orleans, and now with any luck, New York permanently," you answered him, the two of you walking slowly as you conversed. "What do you do these days? And what brings you here?" He was curious as to where you'd been all these years. He hoped to god you weren't already married.
"Hm, I wonder what could possibly bring me to the Department of Veterans Affairs, I can't quite place my finger on it," you sarcastically thought out loud, making him roll his eyes. He was still smiling "very funny, I meant New York." "Work. I've been going around to different colleges teaching things like military history, strategic intelligence, and general polemology, and I just landed a more permanent position at Columbia," you answered with a casual shrug. He started to ask where you served but Steve calling him stopped that "Sam, we're needed at the tower!" He sighed quietly and sent you an apologetic smile "give me your number and we'll-" He paused, looking at you in shock when he saw his phone in your hand. You gave it back after a couple of seconds and smiled "old habits die hard, we'll get together later." "You need to stop pickpocketing people," he said as he smirked at you before jogging over to his friend.
Sam finally got back to you a week and a half later and you two caught up over coffee. He was repeatedly left awestruck when you told him about what you'd been up to. Gradually, your get-togethers turned from getting coffee two or three times a week to grabbing dinner and just getting together to talk and reconnect. It took a while and a lot of prodding from Bucky and Steve before he finally asked you on a proper date. He actually asked you out on Riley's birthday, you both had a laugh at that. Your dates were frequent, mainly whenever his Avenger schedule allowed it. He couldn't wait to introduce you to everyone, he watched as you easily blended in with and meshed with everyone. It was perfect. You were perfect. Still, something seemed not-quite-right, it felt off. Yet, he still couldn't place it so he ignored it.
A year together flew by before either of you knew it. He'd already been contemplating when the perfect moment would happen but now, watching you look over the entire city from the Empire State Building Observation Deck with the sun setting behind you, he knew there'd never be a better time. He'd commit this moment to his memory for the rest of time. He got down on one knee while you were looking through one of the telescopes and took the little velvet box out of his pocket. He could see a few people stopping to watch out of his peripheral vision. When you finally did let go of the telescope and looked at him, you were visibly shocked "Sam? Are you-" You couldn't even finish the question as your eyes started to water when he nodded. His smiling face looked up at you as he, and all of the onlookers gathered around, desperately waited for a response. He watched as you nodded quickly, letting the happy tears fall "yes, hell yes!" He and the group that congregated around you cheered as he picked you up and spun you happily. He pointed over to where Redwing had been perched on a pole "Steve's been manning him so I could have this on video for us." You just laughed and pulled him into a kiss, feeling like you were both on cloud nine. This would be one of the greatest moments of his life. Still, something still felt off. He continued ignoring it. It must've been a little paranoia, so he brushed it off.
Both the wedding and the reception were small and intimate. Tony offered the compound for the tower for the venue and with much help from Pepper, he turned it into the most beautiful place you'd ever seen. Wanda, Pepper, and Natasha helped you pick out a wedding dress. While the three of them were eager to help you and Sam pick and plan, Steve and Bucky stepped back since they didn't have a clue. They helped Sam get the perfect suit; navy blue suit and jacket, white dress shirt, and a dark maroon tie. Planning started in January, a month after he proposed and you wed in May. He nearly cried when he saw you walking down the aisle, clearly holding himself back. You, however, didn't hold any tears back when you two exchanged vows, having to stop yourself at least eight times when you recited your own. Somehow, Vision got ordained, but nobody asked questions. The kiss you two shared was perfect, this was without a doubt, the absolute greatest moment of his life. Except, it felt off. But Sam was far too happy to pay any mind to the feeling he'd grown so used to ignoring.
Despite you and Sam both insisting a weekend away would be a good honeymoon, everyone wanted to send you off to somewhere nice for a couple of weeks. After collective brainstorming, they decided on and booked you two a 14-day all-inclusive honeymoon in Santorini, Greece. You were both pushed onto the Quinjet before you could object at all. Someone had already packed bags for both of you and loaded them on. The ride wasn't as long as you thought it would be and Clint bid you both goodbye and good luck. The hotel room was opulent; it was decorated beautifully with paintings and native flora and fauna, rose petals on the bed, a chilled bottle of champagne sat on the table; it honestly felt like a dream. "Well, Mrs. Wilson, shall we?" Sam asked but when you tried to step into the room, he picked you up bridal style and carried you inside. He set you down on the bed gently but quickly positioned himself over you, his forearm holding him up with his free hand stroked your cheek, looking into your eyes with such love and adoration it almost made you cry again. "I love you so much, and I always will," he whispered softly as he trailed kisses from your lips down along your jawline and to your neck. "I love you too, Sammy, more than anything," your voice was quiet, your mind too focused on the way he was kissing and paying special attention to that one sweet spot on your neck.
For the first three days, you and Sam spent the entire time in your hotel room, intertwined with each other in an intimate dance. Exploring the island was incredible, Sam loved watching you admire everything and really take in the culture. He never missed an opportunity to take new pictures of you. You were sending plenty of pictures to the team, thanking them a million times over for this gift. Sam particularly enjoyed watching you in the crystal clear turquoise waters. Watching you was like being ensnared by a siren's song, and it was a song he never wanted to end. Reality felt off but he'd long ago accepted it was just his subconscious waiting for the other shoe to drop.
"Sam, wake up," your voice said as Sam was lightly shaken. Except, it wasn't exactly your voice, it sounded... off. He turned over and went to toss his arm around your waist and pull you close but was met with nothing. He furrowed his brows and looked around the room for you. Nothing. "(Y/n)?" Sam called as he got out of bed, pulling on whatever was closest to him. No answer. You weren't in the room or the bathroom, you weren't on the patio. He knows you would've left a note if you had gone somewhere. He starts to worry, he grabs his phone and scrolls through his contacts for your number but it's not there, neither are your text messages to each other; your pictures together are gone too. Even as Sam starts to full-on panic, he sees things around him starting to fade away; when he tries to grab something for stability, his hand goes through it. Soon, with everything gone, he's left in a white space with nothing around him. "Sam?" A distorted voice calls out, it's too masculine to be yours.
It sounds familiar, almost like Steve but not quite. "Sam, we need you to wake up right now," another equally distorted voice says and he swears he feels like someone lightly slapped his face. "Somebody go get Bruce!" a third voice calls, more of an order than a request; it was feminine but not yours, it sounded a bit like Natasha but not quite. "His vitals are spiking quite rapidly, he could be in danger very soon if we don't wake him up immediately," a digitalized voice said. Was it Vision, maybe?
Before Sam knew what was happening, he jolted up to a sitting position, gasping for breath. He was in his room at the Tower, everyone around him. He was soaking wet now and Bucky was holding an empty bucket behind his back. His eyes darted around the room anxiously as he questioned rapidly "where is she? What happened? How'd I just get here?" "Whoa, whoa, Sam, where's who?" Steve asked calmly as he gave his friend a towel. "What do you mean 'who'? My wife! My soulmate! Where's (y/n)?" He questioned, his anxious state making it come out harsher than he intended. Everyone still in the room shared a curious look before Steve cleared his throat "you aren't married Sam. You said you weren't feeling well last night so you went to bed early; you've been asleep for almost a whole 24 hours. We all rushed in when we started hearing things, then we heard screaming." Steve explained with a small frown. "We've been trying to wake you up for half an hour, whatever you were dreaming about must've been nuts," Bucky said, earning a look from Steve.
"His vitals are returning to normal, FRIDAY will keep a close eye though," Vision stated. Sam now sat in his bed in deep contemplative silence. "Do you need anything?" Steve asked, setting a hand on his friend's shoulder comfortingly. Sam shook his head after a long minute "no, I think I just need to be alone for a bit to process." Steve nodded and headed for the door, Bucky following with Wanda and Clint in tow. Natasha sent him a small smile and stopped on her way out "call any one of us if you need something, anything at all." He nodded, watching her close the door behind her. He felt a lump in his throat; the best year of his life was a dream. The love of his life, his soulmate, coming back into his life was a dream. He wanted to yell, punch something, cry, rip his hair out, do something/anything to get rid of the pit he felt in his heart now. He wasn't going on without you anymore, he'd done his best to forget and suppress so you could find someone who didn't have nearly two decades on you but he couldn't anymore. He knew you were his soulmate when he first met you but he suppressed it, assuming it was misplaced affection. He knew when he and Riley shipped out for the second time that you were his soulmate because now, he wasn't fighting for the country out of respect or loyalty, he was fighting so you specifically could have a good be safe in this country. Now, he absolutely knew you and him were meant to be together, and he was going to find you. He couldn't bear the pain of knowing who his soulmate was and not having you.
#Sam Wilson Fic#Sam Wilson#Sam Wilson x Reader#MCU#Marvel#Falcon#The Falcon#Samuel Thomas Wilson#Sam Wilson Angst#Soulmate AU#Steve Rogers#Bucky Barnes#Tony Stark#Natasha Romanoff#Wanda Maximoff#Vision#i love sam i swear#Can we just give Samuel Thomas Wilson the entire universe#Anthony Mackie#ByJayStone
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