#13k strokes and my will to live put into this thing.

[theallegedbird]

says it was good to be alive/but now he rides a comet's flame/and won't be coming back again

[sitp-recs]

hi love! i would hate to overwhelm you with a new ask BUT... i kind of binge-read all the fics you recced for that one anon who asked for short fics (like 15k and below) in a concerningly short amount of time, so... i have come to shamelessly beg for more :3 i am entirely too besotted with your blog and your taste in fic is simply *chef's kiss*, there is no one else i'd rather ask for this (this is it this is me begging) THANK YOU IN ADVANCE, YOU ABSOLUTE GODSEND xx

Hello my darling, and thanks so much for the kind words and for trusting my fic taste! I had so much fun putting that first bedtime reclist together and it was a pleasure to build another one for you ❤️ this one includes some light angst (happy endings only!), hope that’s okay? Heres another full month of bedtime reads!

halcyon days by @the-starryknight (2020, T, 1.4k)

Sleepy mornings caught while the sun rises are reserved for silly word games and soft touches and feelings.

Almost-but-not-quite by @pineau-noir (2020, G, 2k)

Immediately following the Battle of Hogwarts Draco Malfoy stumbles across the last Time-Tuner in existence.

Secretly, between the shadow and the soul by @teacup-tai (2021, T, 3k)

The thing about surrender is that once you accept the unavoidable rhythm of change, the surprising uncontrollability of life, and the astonishing inevitability of feelings, it is easy.

Out to Sea by @onbeinganangel (2021, T, 3k)

A story about what happens when you cast your net and catch more than expected.

Between the Power Lines by @tackytigerfic (2020, M, 3k)

For Harry Potter, all roads eventually lead to Draco Malfoy.

Enjoy the Silence by @shealwaysreads (2021, M, 3.4k)

Draco stops speaking, gets some tattoos, and discovers that Harry’s happy to be quiet with him.

Living It Up (while you're going down) by @phd-mama (2019, E, 3.8k)

Draco's been yearning for Harry Potter for years, but somehow the time has never been quite right...until tonight.

Sun Stroke by @peachpety (2020, E, 4k)

Draco, Harry, and a handful of friends take a summer holiday at the beach.

The Study of Change by @p1013 (2021, M, 4k)

Harry's going to hell. He's going to hell immediately.

Special Affinity by @skeptiquewrites (2020, E, 4k)

Auror partners Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy seem to have a special affinity for getting into convoluted accidental bonds.

Home is Where the Nifflers Are by @primavera-cerezos (2020, G, 4k)

Draco has a soft spot for animals with nowhere to go; soon his and Harry's small flat is bustling with adorable, semi-dangerous creatures.

Dinner and Diatribes by @ohdrarry (2021, E, 5k)

Socialising isn't Harry's thing. Draco does his best to help.

Garden War by @cibeewastaken (2020, T, 5k)

Harry and Draco are quarantined in their houses, a lake across from one another.

Still Warm, Still Warm by @tsauergrass (2021, G, 5k)

Harry is up to something. Why else would he keep giving Draco presents?

It Never Occurred to Me That I Would Fall in Love With a Frenchman by lamerezouille (2013, T, 6k)

Harry kisses Draco in a public place. All hell breaks loose.

All Tied Up by mynameisthunder (2020, M, 6k)

Blaise is determined to find out why the entrance to the Slytherin common room is acting up all of a sudden.

Stay (With Me) by @dorthyanndrarry (2021, M, 6.5k)

Harry and Draco have been seeing each other casually, whenever they bumped into one another at Galas and Balls and other social events, always keeping one another at a careful distance.

Crystal Clear by @icmezzo (2014, T, 6.7k)

Harry customizes a snow globe. Draco listens to centaur weather reports. Ron investigates the height of Pansy’s boots. And Hermione knows even more than everything, as usual.

(Un)Calculated Risk by @l0vegl0wsinthedark (2017, E, 7k)

He thought about the way Harry looked at him, smiled at him; about the way Draco’s head was nearly always full of him, all day every day, and about the way Draco sometimes deliberately went to bed still smelling of him, refusing to acknowledge what it meant – because he already fucking knew what it meant.

in a rambling way by @fw00shy (2021, T, 7.5k)

Ron knocked Hermione up, and now Harry's got to figure out how to clone himself so that his friends don't split up fighting over him. Falling for Draco again was never part of the plan.

check this hand 'cause I'm marvelous by @lqtraintracks (2014, E, 8k)

Harry's had a crush on Malfoy for months now. But it will take a bar full of his friends, some Firewhisky, wagers made on his behalf, and Malfoy himself to get him to act on it.

It's Not a Passing Fascination by @firethesound (2018, E, 9k)

One of Harry's favourite things is watching Malfoy work.

Marginal Notes by @blamebrampton (2010, G, 9k)

When you’re 18, and nothing is as it was meant to be, sometimes it can be hard to let the right people know what you are thinking.

Stand Back: I'm About to Perform Archaeology by Blowfish_Diaries (2018, E, 10k)

A new Muggle Studies professor takes the Eighth Year students to work on an archaeological excavation.

The Loathly Worm by Selden (2016, E, 12k)

When Draco Malfoy is forced to go undercover among the remaining Death Eaters in the aftermath of the war, the last person he expects to find there is Harry Potter.

Rumor Has It by emmagrant01 (2012, E, 11k)

Auror trainee Harry Potter does not have a crush on Draco Malfoy. He's just curious about why a former Death Eater is working for the Wizengamot, and that's all. Really.

Polar Night by hereticalvision (2012, E, 12k)

Still in recovery from their break-up, Harry and Draco must travel through the arctic conditions of Svalbard to catch the last Death Eater still at large.

In Which Harry is Magnetic North and Draco Is An Idiot by bryoneybrynn (2014, T, 13k)

For as long as he can remember, Draco’s been bringing fake dates to his family’s annual Yuletide celebration in order to evade his mother’s matchmaking.

Harry Potter and the Werewolf Consultant by 0idontknow0 (2014, E, 15k)

After Teddy transforms into a werewolf for the first time Harry and Andromeda don’t know what to do.

Lockdown Lurgy by @xanthippe74 (2020, T, 15k)

When a dangerous virus comes to Britain, the Ministry orders a mandatory lockdown to control its spread.

Hey, Potter by SunseticMonster (2013, M, 16k)

Harry returns to Hogwarts for his 8th year, determined not to let Malfoy get to him.

[joonsrack]

Masterpiece | KTH x KNJ

+PAIRING: Kim Taehyung x Kim Namjoon

+GENRE: Oneshot, crack, angst, smidge of smut, College AU, stranger to lover

+WORD COUNT: ~13k

+RATING: 18+

+WARNING: Taehyung has face blindness, NSFW, (very) foul language, overuse of the word penis and it’s synonyms, pinning, misunderstandings, Namjoon is like real’ dumb, a little hanky panky but nothing scandalous.

+SUMMARY: 

“So let me recap here, you don’t know his name, his major, his department, his age, his number, nor his face. The only clue you have is this drawing, which basically looks like a textbook example of unrealistic body expectations. You apparently know every nook and cranny of his [REDACTED], but you didn’t have the decency to ask his name? You deserve this.” He cackles, angering Taehyung.

(OR the one where Taehyung has face blindness but that won't stop him from finding love. )

+A/N: Well, it’s been almost a year since I’ve posted anything, and almost as much time since i last wrote anything (except for the occasional guilt writing lmao). So this is me coming back with a vengeance (and the dumbest thing i’ve ever written). This is all thanks to (or to be blamed on) @minloop who put up with my non-stop messaging, gave me some plot ideas, and actually inspired me to finish this in three days. Thank you to my baby @emojihobi​ for the emotional support and the beta reading 💖

+Disclaimer: I got all my info on face blindness from google searches, so please forgive any inaccuracy.

Face blindness has definitely made Taehyung’s life difficult. 

There’s the obvious problem of not being able to recognize your parents. Remember this childhood trauma of holding a random stranger’s hands in the mall, thinking it’s your mother or father? Taehyung had to live through that many, many times; except he wouldn’t realize until said stranger would shake his hand off, or until his parents would swoop in to get him. The fact that he’s never been kidnapped is down to pure luck, really.

Making friends, you guessed it, has also been a challenge. It’s difficult explaining to kids why you ignored them when you saw each other in the hallway. Kids don’t always understand “I didn’t recognize you” as an explanation, especially if you’ve been in the same class since pre-k.

But this? This is a new and unforeseen crisis.

+

 His dorm room is very quiet, which is not unusual since he has a solo room. But he’s pretty sure he went to sleep with a plus one, and said plus one is nowhere to be seen. 

Now, he isn’t a stranger to one-night stands sneaking out after he falls asleep. He likes to take night conquests to his dorm room for this exact reason; He can go right to sleep, while they take themselves out. Easy breezy no string attached-y. That’s usually the way he wants it to be. 

But this time is different. Last night was different. Last night, Taehyung had the best night of his life, hands down. Best bangs of his existence. Bangs plural because they went more than once. How that’s even possible when his teenage years are long gone and days with multiple orgasms are less and less common, he has no idea.

He’s probably ruined for anyone else. Nothing could ever compare to the night he just spent getting his back blown out. 

Now, Taehyung is a sculptor. A very gifted one at that (if his teachers’ praises are anything to go by). Taehyung knows body proportions, knows perfect rations, all that stuff. He knows it on marble bodies, in sketches, in painting. Not on actual human beings.

Until last night.

Last night, he witnessed the body of a god. He scratched at perfect skin, held on to beautifully defined and strong arms, rode perfect thighs. Last night, he shed a tear at the view of some perfect knees. Last night, he realized that art truly imitates nature. 

And that’s not all.

Taehyung can admit he owns a nice dick; it’s decently shaped, the color is nice, and the size is slightly over average. 

But what he witnessed the night before?

The Narcissus of dicks; the most beautiful dick on the planet. The most beautiful dick in history . Probably even prettier than Narcissus’ face himself. (But Taehyung doesn’t know what Narcissus' face looks like, so he’s only assuming.) 

From the perfect red color of its beautifully shaped head to the gracefully intertwined veins leading to a sturdy looking hilt, peppered with well-kept pubic hair, ending in an exquisitely wrinkled ballsack. The girth was over average; big enough to make size queens (such as Taehyung) salivate, but not big enough to scare away enthusiasts. And the length? The dude is lucky he’s a grower and not a show-er, or he would never know peace. Mainly because the likes of Taehyung or Park Jimin would never let him be.

But where is that most perfect penis right now? 

Attached to its perfectly shaped and mysterious owner, probably miles away.

Very problematic, indeed.

+

“So what you’re saying is, you fell asleep, and when you woke up he was gone? Isn’t that how it’s usually supposed to go?” Yoongi sounds disgruntled on the other end of the face call, face half mushed in his pillow, hair disheveled and eyes squinty. It’s not yet 1 pm after all, which is still considered morning for people like Min Yoongi.

“Noooo, not this time.” Taehyung whines,” This time he was supposed to stick around and ask me to marry him in the morning. Isn’t that obvious? We went at it four times for fuck sake, doesn’t that mean anything anymore?”

Jimin chokes on his matcha oatmeal milk latte, eyes going wide. “Four times?! Now that is a monster stamina. He basically squeezed your balls dry.” There’s a pause, then he says to someone off-camera, “It’s rude to stare, ma’am.”

“Stop ruining my morning with your screaming,” Yoongi grunts out, rubbing his eyes. “So what do you want us to do about this?”

Taehyung fumbles around his desk for a moment, looking through his piles of sketches until he finds it, his only clue.

“Do you two know this man?” He asks, pulling out a sketch he did quickly off his memory of the mystery man’s body. He pulls out a second one, this one is a close-up of his perfect penis. He might have gone off tangent with the shading, but he couldn't stop himself, that dick deserves all the shading.

“Jesus fuck.” Yoongi signs.

“Baby, I’m sure you’re aware that if I knew anyone with a body and a dick like that, you would never have been able to put your dirty paws on him.”

Taehyung turns hopeful eyes to Yoongi after glaring at Jimin for a good 10 seconds, but Yoongi only shakes his head no.

“I don’t have a habit of making my friends strip around me, sadly. I wouldn’t be able to tell even if I knew him.”

“You two are useless” Taehyung signs, his body deflating. Yoongi takes offense and hangs up. Or maybe he was going to hang up either way.

“So let me recap here, you don’t know his name, his major, his department, his age, his number, nor his face. The only clue you have is this drawing, which basically looks like a textbook example of unrealistic body expectations. You apparently know every nook and cranny of his penis, but you didn’t have the decency to ask his name? You deserve this.” He cackles, angering Taehyung. 

“I was busy sucking his dick, asshole.” He spits, but Jimin only snorts in answer.

“Good luck finding the owner of Mystery Penis.” He quips back, before hanging up as well.

+

All hope is lost. Never in his life has he despised his face blindness as much as he does right now. Of course, it’s never been easy dealing with it throughout his life. He’s lucky he has two solid friends he can count on. Although Jimin regularly dyes and changes his hairstyle without warning to mess with him. And Yoongi basically has two hours of availability per week, usually arranged around his sleeping schedule. 

But he knows they care for him, and he cares for them. 

He drags his feet to class. He uses ‘class’ lightly; being a third-year means most of his courses are spent in the workshop, working on his graduate exhibition. 

He’s got his trusty overalls on, covered in clay stains. He’s been working with clay for the last few weeks, using the medium for two of his exhibition pieces. 

He greets his teacher at the front desk with a nod, before making his way to his desk. Today’s playlist consists of oldies, and he makes it to his desk just as Lionel Richie’s voice fills the room. 

He snorts, rolling his eyes.

Hello is a classic of sculpting classes. No matter the teacher or the Instructor, they all love to play that song on repeat, and he usually doesn’t pay it any mind. But right now, isn’t there a more perfect song to taunt him?

Lionel Richie asks if it’s him he’s looking for, as he’s pulling his tool out of his bag. He unwraps the plastic wrap from around the latest project he’s been working on, already planning his next move. 

He’s pretty sure the sculpting world is all over that song only because of the music video.

It’s obvious that the whole ‘blind girl sculpting’ thing– 

Oh.

Oh dear god. The music video. 

The music video.

Taehyung has an idea.

His hands move before he can fully realize the plan in his head, rewrapping his project, and getting some new clay from the front of the class.

His teacher looks him up and down in all his frantic and excited glory.

 “A sudden stroke of inspiration?” He questions, sounding curious.

“Something like that.” Taehyung smiles, trying to act inconspicuous. His teacher won’t let him take the clay if it’s not for his graduate exhibition.

He makes it back to his station without any more inquiry and starts to work right away.

Jimin was right, he does know every nook and cranny of that penis. He spent hours getting acquainted with it, and he has an excellent memory (Except for faces, obviously).

All the other students are too busy working on their final projects to notice the massive penis under construction a few feet from them. If anyone asks, Taehyung will proudly answer that it’s a life-sized depiction. But no one is asking, so he simply works on bringing the piece to life. The students in his class rarely talk to him, since he hasn’t gone out of his way to develop any type of relationship with them. It’s easier like that.

Once he’s done, many hours later, he’s alone in the workshop with the sun setting outside.

He ogles proudly at his masterpiece, the erect penis standing tall on his station, truly a creature of beauty. It’s a perfect replica, down to the ballsack wrinkles; down to the cute mole at the hilt. Of course, it’s clay-colored, and it probably won't change since Taehyung hates painting his creations, but he’s absolutely certain that everything else is exactly like the original.

The oven has been preheating for a while, so it’s hot and ready to bake some penis. The only thing left is to leave it to cure for a while. Any ol’ regular penis would have taken less than an hour to cure, but we’re talking about a monster cock here. 

He pops it into the oven, sets a timer, just in time for a knock at the door to pull him out of his penis-induced craze.

“Yo, Tae,” Yoongi’s voice resonates from the door frame.

Taehyung grabs a rag from his station to clean his hand with before making his way to his friend. There’s someone with him, and Yoongi signals at his friend with a lazy wave of his hand. 

“Remember Namjoon?” He asks, but it’s a rhetorical question. Jimin and Yoongi have taken to the habit of identifying the people they’re with, so Taehyung doesn't have to embarrass himself trying to figure it out on his own. That way, they don’t have to explain his condition to every single person that isn’t in his immediate friend circle. 

(Is it even a circle if it’s two people?) 

He sends a nod in Namjoon’s way and gets a wave back, and that’s as far as their exchange goes, as usual. Except today, his whole body language reads nervous and tense. But that’s none of Taehyung’s business.

“We’re going to see some juniors perform in a pub, you want to come with?” Yoongi asks him, and Taehyung knows he means well, but he also knows that Yoongi knows he doesn’t like crowded spaces. 

He and Jimin have tried to get him to go out more, but the only time Taehyung steps foot inside any type of alcohol selling establishment is when he wants to get laid. And there’s only one place he goes to then; that crappy little Bar near campus that’s only frequented by broke students who also want to get laid. 

He doesn’t like anywhere that’s dark where there’s enough people to make him lose sight of his friends. Something about losing his parents at the mall one too many times.

“That sounds nice, but I have to finish this piece I’m working on.” He answers, trying to sound as regretful as he can. It doesn’t really work, judging by Yoongi’s unconvinced humming. 

“Alright, careful when you go back home.” Yoongi finally answers, patting him on the shoulder. 

He starts walking away, but his friend, Namjoon, stays frozen on the spot, facing him. He’s looking at Taehyung in some kind of way, but face blindness makes it hard for him to read other’s expressions. He raises a single eyebrow in interrogation, and that seems to make Namjoon snap out of it. He turns on his heel without as much as a goodbye, which, rude .

“'Kay, bye.” He mutters after him.

But he can’t hold it against him. He knows that ‘Namjoon’ has been a long-time friend of Yoongi and that they’ve spent some time together by association. Taehyung doesn’t go out of his way to get to know new people, so there’s a high chance Namjoon might have tried to approach him with friendship in mind, only to end up frustrated by Taehyung’s lack of interest. Happens all the time. He can’t really help it, reading intentions is not in his toolbox.

He should probably tell Yoongi to share his ‘secret’ with Namjoon. He seems nice enough from what he heard, so he would probably be understanding. It should at least clear up the misunderstanding, and Taehyung might even gain a new friend, who knows?

He makes his way back to his station, works on his actual project while the oven takes care of making his penis nice and hard. 

+

The next morning, he wakes up to ten texts from Jimin, one from Yoongi, and multiple missed calls and voicemail from his workshop teacher.

 Asshole with pink hair:

9:40 am    ur crazy

9:40 am    CRAZY

9:40 am    This is hilarious

9:41 am    That’s why i love u

9:41 am    That is a beautiful dick

9:41 am    Like it was nice on paper, but the 3D version definitely makes me wonder about its  owner

10:26 am  All the student body is buzzing about the mystery penis

10:27 am  It’s on the front page of the school newspaper

10:27 am  omg you dumbass u didnt write your number

10:27 am  you didn't write your number anywhere brb dying of laughter

Hyungie:

11:32 am  You didnt write your infos dumb dumb

Taehyung bangs his head on his pillow, hoping for quick death. How could he forget to write down his infos? How is anyone supposed to contact him?

+

Namjoon has come to learn quickly that university isn’t always the most sanest place on the planet. Cramming, into a single building, that amount of genius with that amount of insanity is bound to create interesting events.

He’s stopped being surprised by most things, might be guilty of doing some of those surprising things from time to time. But today? Today is on a whole new level.

Somehow, his dick is plastered all over the school, in every hallway, on every door. Think Regina George distributing the burn book copy all over school but, multiplied by 50, that’s how many pictures of his dick are distributed around school right now. Not an actual picture of his actual dick, but an actual picture of an actual clay replica, with big bold yellow letters spelling out 'HAVE YOU SEEN THIS PENIS?', and nothing else.

It’s vaguely threatening.

He wishes he couldn’t tell that it’s his penis, then maybe he could laugh with the rest of the student body. But there’s no mistaking it. One look and he knew. The person who printed those flyers made sure to include all the possible angles, too. 

It’s 100% his dick. 

The slight curve is there, the mole is there, everything is there.

The intentions of the maker are unclear, but there’s one thing for sure: he knows exactly who’s behind it. He only knows one sculptor who has seen his penis, and that’s the current bane of his life, Kim Taehyung.

It’s not enough that Taehyung has been completely ignoring his existence before their night of passion together, he’s also been ignoring him after. 

And now this? Plastering his dick all over school? For absolutely no reason? Did he not like the night they spent together? Was this a great big ploy to make fun of him? Is this Taehyung’s way to reject him? To tell him to stay away from him? He knows he’s never been really subtle with his crush, but isn’t this going way too far? 

At least he had the very, very basic decency to forgo his name from the flyers, or Namjoon might have had to run away to the next town. 

Namjoon is not dumb, he knows his ancient Greece lore and what they thought about big dicks.

Taehyung didn’t write this so people would look at the dick, he’s obviously calling him a dick.  And for what, pinning on him for the last year? Can’t a man have a crush in peace?

Maybe he shouldn't have approached Taehyung that night. 

One thing is for sure, Taehyung is sending him a very clear message to stay away from him.

+

He spent a fortune printing all those hands out, and now he has to reprint them all? Taehyung knows very well he can’t afford another round of mass printing. Plus the librarian probably won’t ever let him walk into the library again. She had to come and refill the printer at least three times in the hour he was there. The environmental club was even called on scene by one of the students waiting for his turn at the printer. Talk about a snitch.

He can’t afford to reprint everything, and there’s no way he’ll go around school writing his number by hand.

He listens to the voicemails from his teacher then, uncovering a new hurdle.

The first one goes like this:

"Kim Taehyung I know it’s you, you left that thing on your desk."

Then the second:

"Kim Taehyung, you will take down these handouts right this instant before the Dean can see them, you hear me? He'll put you on probation and my head on a stick."

Taehyung muffles his groans into his pillow. Maybe it’s a good thing he forgot to include his number. He should have thought of that before.

He throws on some clothes, heeding his teacher’s warning. He better get to school quickly.

He texts Yoongi and Jimin to take down as many as they can if they want to see him live for another day. Yoongi doesn’t answer and Jimin only texts back asking if he can keep one for his room.

Some friend circle he’s got there.

He makes it onto campus in under half an hour, and gets to work, taking them down as quickly as he can.

He’s got only a few hallways left to do when someone taps him sharply on the shoulder. He spins around, dreading the moment he comes face to face with the Dean. Not that he could recognize the Dean.

“Are you the Dean?” He stammers in a small voice.

“What? No- you. I swear to god. Just tell me if you hate me that much.” Stranger says, before putting his long leg to good use, striding away from him. He throws a bunched-up flyer on the floor before disappearing down the hallway as quickly as he’s appeared.

Taehyung is stunned for a good minutes, utterly confused

The voice sounds similar, but other than that he has no idea who just spit those words at him. He doesn’t hate anyone, and he doesn't see why anyone would believe he has those kinds of ill feelings towards them.

+

Now that his plan has miserably failed, Taehyung falls into hopelessness once again. He lays in bed, holding his precious sculpture to himself. It’s the only thing he has left from his fateful encounter. Or he thought it was fate, but now he’s wondering if that was life making fun of him. 

Jimin is laying by his side, examining the sketch of the body with clear interest. It’s making Taehyung feel a little possessive. 

“Maybe you should try again in the school gym, no one gets a body like that from not going to the gym. You could say you’re looking for a model or something.”

Taehyung stares at his friend with all the admiration he can muster. 

“I would kiss you so hard right now.”

“We tried that once, remember?”

“Yes, and that’s why I won’t be doing it, but I would, just so you know.”

“Cool.” 

He snatches the sketch out of Jimin’s hands to get to work on the shading, trying to get his drawing as realistic looking as possible. Making a whole body out of clay would take too long, so Taehyung will have to settle for his sketch. 

Once he’s done, some 30 minutes have passed. He whirl around on his desk chair, waving the sketch around successfully, only to stop dead in his tracks. He finds Jimin with his precious sculpture halfway down his throat.

“Jimin!” He exclaims, fuming. “Get your dirty mouth off my penis!”

Jimin startles and chokes in surprise, but then bursts out laughing once the sculpture is safely out of his mouth.

“Sorry, sorry. I was just really curious about the size. You never cease to amaze me.”

Taehyung snatches his precious phallus back, grabbing some tissues to wipe off Jimin's drool.

“If I can’t find him, this is going up my ass, so don’t touch it.”

“Jesus Christ,” Jimin grimaces, rearranging himself on the bed. He grabs his phone to waste some time, probably ignoring his other responsibilities as the end of their final semester is quickly approaching. “You want to end up in the emergency room? Just use it to make a mold and replicate it with some silicon at least.” 

Taehyung raises both eyebrows in astonishment.

“Jimin, your genius never ceases to amaze me.”

+

He successfully drags Jimin with him to the campus gym. Normally the prospect of hot sweaty people grunting, in various states of undress would attract Jimin like a bee to honey, but since he’s already banged or broken up with half the people that go there, Taehyung has to keep a firm hold on his friend’s wrist.

“Why do I have to come with you again?” 

“It was your idea, so you’re taking responsibility.”

“I don’t like taking my responsibilities, they suck,” Jimin grumbles, but he stops trying to run away.

The moment they step into the gym, they’re assaulted by the musky smell of sweat and determination. There’s a high volume of people working out, probably wanting to channel their end-of-semester jitters into iron pumping. 

Taehyung spots the front desk, putting his business smile on while reaching into his folder. He hears Jimin greet someone, going off by himself, but Taehyung bears him no mind and heads straight for the Woman working the counter.

“Hi there,” he says, charm on, “ I was wondering if you could help me out,-”

“Yes you can put your flyers up, no you don’t have to pay for it, no we won’t take it down before the end of the semester, yes I do have some tape.” She says without missing a beat, not looking up at him.

“Damn, maybe I’m here because I want to sign up for a membership.” 

She finally looks up from her computer, assessing Taehyung from head to toe.

“No you don’t babe. Here’s the tape.” She says, handing him the tape while blowing a bubble with her pink gum. Multitasking at its finest.

Taehyung doesn’t feel like taking her on a debate, so he gets hold of the roll of tape and gets to work, spotting where other people left their flyers so he can put his right by them. 

He scans the gym once or twice with a quick look, trying to see if, by a stroke of luck, Mystery Man could be there. No one that is shirtless has the body he’s looking for, and he sadly doesn’t have x-ray vision to check the rest. No amount of wishing as a kid made him grow that ability.

He puts up the first flyer, this time containing all his info, and stares at it proudly. He's got a good feeling about this.

Jimin finds him again as he’s putting up his last flyer, sounding excited about something.

“I had no idea Namjoon worked out. He’s got nice arms hidden beneath those sweatshirts.”

“Namjoon? Yoongi’s friend?”

“Yeah! And he changed his hair color, it looks really good on him. A little lighter than he used to have.”

Taehyung nods along, not really pressed to know more. He’s got other fish to fry.

+

Namjoon slowly counts to 30 after seeing Taehyung leave the premises, before he basically sprints to the nearest wall, spotting the flyers Taehyung has put up.

There’s a sketch on it, a sketch of a body. A body that looks strangely like his. He frowns, before reading the caption.

“Sculpting student looking for body model. Body must look like this. Call XXX-XXX-XXXX. Food as compensation. ”

Namjoon cannot believe his eyes. Taehyung knows he’s got that exact body type, yet he didn’t ask for his help. If he needed any other confirmation that Taehyung hates him, there’s one right there.

Just what did he do to the man to make him hate him so much? 

Since he’s confronted him in the hallway, Taehyung still hasn’t reached out to him. It would be easy to do. He knows Taehyung has his number, they exchanged it when they first met, so nothing is stopping him. Unless he’s happy with the way things are.

+

Maybe Jimin is not as much of a genius as he thought. By the sixth person that walks in to be a body model, he realizes this is getting expensive in food bribes and studio fees. He has also stopped putting up the pretense of wanting to sketch anyone anymore. 

But this time, It’s one Jung Hoseok who walks in.

“Have we slept together before?” He asks right off the bat, tired of wasting his precious time. It’s his new modus operandi; invite them in, ask the burning question, then send them on their way with the promised food to avoid complaints. 

“I don’t believe so, but maybe we should fix that,” Hoseok answers, taking off his shirt.

“What are you doing?”

“Your flyers have a nude body on it, you made me come to a private studio, isn’t this a nude modeling thing?” Hoseok questions, but doesn’t stop undressing. He’s already reaching for his belt. 

Something tells Taehyung this man would be really sad to be told to put his clothes back on. The way he’s unapologetically getting naked tells Taehyung everything he needs to know. 

“So, why are you asking?” He inquires while posing, everything hanging loose and stuff. “Is that how you get laid? Asking hot dudes to model, then seducing them once they’re naked and vulnerable?”

Jung Hoseok doesn’t seem to be feeling very vulnerable right now, but Taehyung keeps that to himself.

“God no. Jesus that would be sleazy of me.”

“Not as sleazy as asking me if we’ve slept together 5 seconds into our first meeting.” Hoseok points out.

“ Touché. ” He admits, a soft chuckle escaping him.

Hoseok doesn’t press him for an answer, and they spend the next few minutes in silence, the only sound coming from Taehyung's pencil on the thick page of his sketchbook.

Jung Hoseok, standing confidently in front of him in all of his naked glory, has a certain aura around him. The way he holds himself, no hesitation to bare it all, head held high; it's like he never had to hide anything in his life. Like he never knew shame. To the point where it inspires Taehyung to utter the next words:

“I have face blindness.” He starts off, which gets his model’s attention. He keeps his eyes down on his paper to avoid eye contact, feeling rusty when it comes to revealing this part of himself. He continues quickly, “I had a one-night stand with this– perfect greek god. He had the perfect penis, too. Best sex of my life.” He's making good progress on his sketch, Hoseok’s body graceful and easy to put on paper. “I’m trying to find him, but I don’t know anything about him, and I can’t tell people’s faces apart." He chuckles deprecatingly, "The only clue I have is the way his body looks. So I put up this ad for body models hoping he would show up.”

Hoseok breaks his pose to slap his hands together, then pointing at him. “Oh my god, are you the one that plastered the whole school with the penis sculpture a few days ago? Was that your version of a ‘Wanted’ poster?”

Taehyung feels his cheeks warm up.

“Yeah, but I almost lost my diploma over that so let’s not mention it.”

Hoseok laughs with his whole body, clapping his hands together a few more times as if to express his excitement.

“That was the best thing to ever happen on this campus since 1993, thank you for that.”

His statement piques Taehyung's interest.

“What happened in 1993?” He asks, expecting anything but what comes outs of Hoseok's mouth next.

“My mom and dad conceived me in the bathroom of the literature wing.”

Taehyung chortles, surprising even himself with how loud it is.

“Now that’s a conception story worth telling your kids.”

“They didn't tell me; They got caught and got expelled the next day. They framed their expulsion letter, it’s still on display in the kitchen.” Hoseok’s voice is dripping with fondness, betraying his love for his family. “The thing is, I learned how to read at a very early age.”

Taehyung is possessed by another wave of uncontrollable laughter. He wipes a stray tear from his eyes, taking a second to compose himself.

“There, you’re looking a little better now. “

Taehyung looks up at the man, standing there in his birthday suit, going out of his way to cheer him up even though they’re perfect strangers.

(Maybe not so perfect since he’s seen him naked, but still.)

He chuckles again, going back to his sketching.

“Wait does this mean you don’t actually need models right now?”

“Well yeah," Taehyung answers, shrugging his shoulders, "But you looked like you would be really disappointed if I told you to stop undressing, so I just went along with it.”

Hoseok nods his agreement, going back into his original position.

“Good call. Now that we’re here you better get the shading of my calves right. They’re my pride and glory.”

“On it.”

+

Who would have thought that this whole ordeal would have somehow turned into Taehyung making a new friend.

He looks at the contact number in his phone staring back at him. It’s written 'Jung Hoseok' with a little sun emoji. He’s told him everything he needs to know to avoid misunderstandings, and Hoseok left with the promise to always greet him first when they see each other in the hallway. It’s sad that he only met the man in his last stretch before getting his degree, but as they say: better late than never.

He’s excited to get to know Hoseok, but he doesn’t know if he should text him first. He’s feeling a little socially rusty, having not approached anyone with the intention of being friends in a long, long time. Which is why he jumps with glee when he sees he’s got a text notification from his new friend. But then he reads the text, and the glee morphes into unadulterated excitement.

 Jung Hoseok 🌞:

4:56 pm    I think i know who your penis belongs to

4:56 pm    can you send me a picture? I lost the flyers i kept from that time

                                       4:59 pm    You sent a picture

 5:01 pm   Yeah it’s really similar 

5:01 pm    Kim Seokjin, XXX-XXX-XXXX, probably currently working the counter at the campus coffee shop. 

5:02 pm     He’s tall, broad shoulders, awesome dick

Taehyung doesn’t even take the time to text back his thanks; he wraps up his project in a disorderly manner, wiping his hands on his shirt with no care in the world. He throws his backpack on and basically sprint to the coffee shop he usually tends to avoid. The owner is totally an evil capitalist, ripping off students with his overpriced coffee.

He gets there in record time, gasping for air as his poor lungs try to keep up with enough exercise to last him a lifetime.

He’s covered in clay stains, hair sticking to his sweaty forehead, clothes in dismay, lungs wheezing, so he should probably expect the next few events that unfold. 

He walks into the coffee shop still out of breath, asks if Kim Seokjin is there to the first employee he sees. This is one of those times where he’s happy he can’t read people’s expressions, because he has a feeling he’s being judged very much right now.

“He… just got off his shift.” The man at the counter answers hesitantly.

“Can you tell me where he went?” And what he was wearing?” Taehyung may be sounding a little desperate, but he doesn’t have the time to care.

“He was still in his uniform, so green, and he went that way.” He indicates with a vague wave of the hand.  

Taehyung starts running again, this time looking even more crazed as he scans his surroundings like a mad man, looking for someone tall with broad shoulders wearing green.

He spots him after running for a few minutes, thanking the heavens that the employee sent him in the right direction. He had every reason not to.

“Kim Seokjin!” He calls out, picking up his pace despite his lungs begging for a break. “Wait!”

He sees the man stop, take one look at him over his admittedly very large shoulders, then start sprinting away from him.

“No! Wait up!” He pushes himself harder than he ever has, his legs and lungs burning under the continuous strain, head feeling a little faint. “Please!” He calls out again in desperation. “Please look at my penis!”

This catches Seokjin’s attention, and he thankfully stops running, turning around as if to wait for him. Taehyung slows down to a jog, then to a complete stop, bending over gasping for air. Once his breathing is finally somewhat back to normal, he straightens up, only to come face to face with a bottle of pepper spray.

“W-wait!” He stutters, falling on his ass. “I swear I’m not a creep!”

“That’s exactly what a creep would say.” Seokjin answers, hovering over him threateningly, aiming the pepper spray directly at Taehyung’s face.

“I swear I just need you to look at my penis.”

This was the wrong thing to say apparently, because Seokjin gives the bottle a good shake as if to activate it. “That doesn’t sound as reassuring as you seem to think.”

“No! Wait!” He pleads again. “Not my penis.” He takes off his backpack, frantically digging through it until he finally pulls out his sculpture.  “ This penis.”

Seokjin doesn’t look totally convinced, but he finally lowers his weapon. “That’s a beautiful cock.” He admits after a moment of staring in silence. 

“Thank you. Is it yours?” 

"I don't remember owning that sculpture."

"Not the sculpture; the Penis."

Seokjin frowns, extending his hand, and Taehyung gingerly deposits his precious sculpture into his palm. The man finally puts away his pepper spray to free both his hands. He examines the penis under every angle, trying out the hold, measuring the testicles with his palm, staring at it long and hard.

Taehyung takes the opportunity to stand back up, keeping his distance this time.

“It does look very similar,” he concludes, hands going to his chin. “But this is not my penis. I don’t have a mole there.”

Taehyung deflates. He still asks, just in case. “So we haven’t slept together?”

Seokjin gives him back his sculpture with a snort. “You don’t look like anything I've ever slept with.” 

Taehyung realizes the state he’s in. He must look ridiculous right now.

“I’m from the sculpting department. I didn’t have the time to clean up. I don’t usually go around looking like I just rolled in the mud.”

“Explains a lot.” Seokjin nods, looking him up and down.

He dusts himself off as best as he can, but he can’t do much more cleaning up than that. He’ll probably have to go back home looking like that.

“So what’s your name?”

Taehyung feels dumb, he didn’t even have the decency to introduce himself before pulling out his penis. His social skills are frankly lacking.

“I’m Kim Taehyung. Sorry about all that, someone told me you could have the original version of this sculpture.”

“I’m flattered. It is pretty similar. Can I ask why you’re going around asking people to look at your– At this penis?” 

Taehyung sighs deeply, looking down at the penis in his hand. He did it once, he can do it again.

“Long story short I had an amazing one-night stand with the owner of this beautiful creature, but I have no idea who he is and the only clue I have is my perfect memory of his penis.”

“Sounds like a proper modern-day Cinderella story. But how come you don’t remember his face?” Seokjin questions, a hint of worry in his voice that would make sense in any other situation than Taehyung’s.

“I…. have face blindness, it’s this whole-”

“Ah, Yes, Prosopagnosia, I heard about that in class.”

“Oh. Well, yeah, so this is my only way of finding him.”

“So the Penis Flyers-”

“Yeah, that was also me. Forgot to write down my info, got caught by my teacher, that was a whole mess.” Taehyung admits, feeling discouraged.

“So now you’re basically going around town asking every man to try on the metaphorical glass shoes.”

“Basically.”

“Maybe don’t start off with ‘please look at my penis’ next time?” Seokjin recommends, which makes sense.

“I’ve been told that asking if we’ve slept together first thing is making me sound sleazy.”

“Yeah well, asking people to look at your penis isn’t better.”

“I’ll take good note of that.”

+

He drags his feet all the way back home.

He sees, pushed in the corner of his room, the material he got to make a mold, and wonders if now is the time to give up.

His exhibition is coming up, this whole thing made him late on his projects, and now he’s certain he’ll never reunite with Mystery Man. Maybe Mystery Man just doesn’t want to be found. Maybe he’s seen all his attempts and has simply steered clear, avoiding him all along. Maybe it’s time for Taehyung to make himself a silicon version and move on. He’s exhausted all his options, he’s out of time, and out of ideas.

He’s reading through the molding instruction, glad that this should be easy since he’s using a sculpture and not an actual living and breathing dick, when he realizes he hasn’t exhausted all his options. There’s still hope.

He jumps in the shower, picks out an outfit befitting of his destination, and goes off with hope in his heart.

+

The Bar isn't too busy, this being the middle of a school week, but there’s still some people going about, sharing drinks and being loud, in total denial of the oncoming train that is the end of a semester

Taehyung spots the barman, beeline for him. 

“Hey, do you know who usually works on Sundays?”

“That would be me.” Mr.Barman says, convincing Taehyung he finally has luck on his side.

Mr.Barman is on the tall side, with nice tattooed arms and wavy over-bleached hair tucked behind his ears. He’s making his forearm bulge seductively by polishing some beer glasses, and if Taehyung wasn’t on a mission to find his possible Mr.Perfect, he would be actively trying to get into his pants. 

“Do you, by any chance, recognize me?”

Mr.Barman doesn’t miss a beat.

“You’re a regular. And you gave me a blowjob once. Why are you asking?”

Well, Taehyung might have many flaws but at least he’s consistent.

“I was wondering if you remembered seeing me a few weeks ago– I was with a dude, about this height, with this body,” he adds, pulling out the sketch. He looks a little crazed, once again. But it’s ok, he’s reaching for straws here. “He had dark hair, but that’s all I can tell you. See, I have face-”

“-Blindness, I know, you cry about it every time you get drunk.”

Hm. And Taehyung thought he was a character full of mystery.

“I do know who you’re talking about. He’s a regular too.”

The irritation Taehyung feels is only momentary, everything melting away with this new bit of information. Someone saw them, someone knows what his Mystery Man looks like. He didn't hallucinate the whole thing. 

“Do you know his name??” He asks, pleading with his eyes. His heart is thumping wildly in his chest, desperation tangible.

“No. And he hasn’t been here since that night.” He says, crushing every hope and dream Taehyung mustered up in the last five seconds. He pauses his polishing, head tilting to the side. “But I do remember his face. I can try and draw him if you want.”

10 minutes later, Taehyung is looking at his disability in the face.

“Wow, you did it. You perfectly illustrated how people with face blindness see others.” Taehyung says, looking down at the drawing Jungkook (he asked for his name) quickly scribbled on a piece of napkin. It looks exactly like how he sees others.

Jungkook being good-natured, only laugh it off. “I can’t do much here, I’m working. But if you give me your number, I can try and do a better sketch once I get home. I’m from the painting department.”

“You would do that for me?” Taehyung asks, feeling deeply moved by Jungkook’s kindness. 

“Sure, it’s good practice for my portrait class anyways. You can take this as a thank you for the blow job.”

Taehyung nods to himself. 

“I do give amazing blowjobs.”

+

Jungkook, like any good art student, does not appreciate being rushed.

After a whole week of being told “it’s not ready yet”, Taehyung stops asking. 

He also wakes up one morning and realizes he only has a few days left before his exhibition.

Not only is he not done with all his pieces, he still hasn’t started studying for his finales which happen to be the week before his exhibition, meaning, the next day.

He pushes aside any thought of Mystery Man (except when he hugs the sculpture at night, heart yearning for the original), and jumps straight into his cramming strategy, which consists of hitting himself with the books until he’s absorbed the material. If he’s not studying, taking a finale, or sleeping, he’s huddled in the workshop with the other students of his department, functioning on coffee and eating various shades of sculpting material for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. This is not what Taehyung expected when he was told that artists live from their arts.

The day before his exhibition, he’s barely feeling human, he’s got dried clay in places clay should never find itself, he doesn’t know words anymore and he has basically forgotten his own name.

No matter how fast he works, he realizes he won’t be able to finish his last pieces in time. He’s wracking his brain for a solution, thinking long and hard about just what he could do, when it hits him. 

The solution is right underneath his nose; 

His penis. It was always his penis. 

He’s supposed to expose pieces that he finds impactful, and if there’s anything that had a big impact on his life in the last few weeks, it’s his sculpture.

He can’t tell his teacher, he’ll categorically refuse. Not after the stunt he pulled with the flyers. Plus he wouldn't understand the cultural reset it was for Taehyung, finding and crafting that beautiful creature.

So he sets to work in secret. It shouldn’t be too hard, he hasn’t printed his labels yet. Plus the students are in charge of installing their own corner, meaning he can wait until the very last moment before the opening to put his penis on display.

He needs to find a name for his sculpture, so he texts his friends for help, but as usual, they are unhelpful.

 Asshole with pink hair:

6:45 pm  ‘ Suck on that’

 Hyungie:

6:45 pm    why are you asking me idk

 Jung Hoseok 🌞 :

6:50 pm   “ Long lost lover”

 He’s glad to see that his new friend will fit right in once he introduces him to everyone. 

He isn’t satisfied with the answer he gets, so he sends more text.

 Kim Seokjin:

7:05 pm  “Is this your penis?”

7:06 pm   Or better yet, “HAVE YOU SEEN THIS PENIS?”

7:06 pm   that way people will understand how current your art is

7:10 pm   Also I didn’t give you this number to chitchat

7:10 pm   after we find out his identity im cutting all ties with you

7:11 pm   Im just feeling invested right now

7:11 pm   that’s all

7:17 pm   Where’s your exhibition again?

Jeon Jungkook barman and artist:

9:56 pm  idk

9:56 pm  im almost done with the portrait btw

9:56 pm  you mind if I use it for my exhibition

9:56 pm  im really proud of it

 So not much more help on that side either.

+

The next day, Taehyung is busy setting up his corner and feeling emotional over his last exhibition.

He’s done with uni. He can go off into the world and live from his art. Or more like, he’ll first find a side job that’ll suck the life out of him, to pay for his art. Then he’ll spend a few years regretting every decision that led him to be an artist, but just as he’s about to give up, his sculptures will be noticed by a mysterious millionaire that’ll commission him thousands of dollars at first. He’ll refer him to his rich friend who will be all over his art and will throw their money at him.

Yeah, it’s a nice pipe dream.

He makes sure all the labels are in place, the lights are hitting his pieces in all the right way, and that no one notices him putting his penis in the middle of his space 30 seconds before they open the doors.

By the time his teacher notices, it’s already too late; the place flooded with friends, family, and even the occasional art critics that the university invited.

It’s not like his penis feels out of place in his setup. Most of his pieces are on the theme of the human body; studies of movement, skin texture, whatnot. If you look at it as a whole, you almost have a whole body. The only thing missing is a face, which is extremely fitting for Taehyung.

The wave of people coming is not preferable for Taehyung, since he doesn’t like crowded places. He’s never been a fan of their exhibition opening nights over the years. He keeps himself busy by trying his best to merge with the wall while people circle his pieces. His friends know he won’t be able to recognize them in the crowd, so they’ll come to him by themselves, he simply has to make himself visible.

“Hey babe,” Jimin says with mirth in his voice, “Is that greek?”

“Yeah” Taehyung answers, fixing his eyes on his most beloved and central piece. 

“I didn’t know you knew greek”

“I don’t, but Google does.”

The Penis is standing directly underneath his own spotlight, looking like a beacon of light, grabbing the envious stares of the people around it.

There’s a little white label by its base:

   Kim Taehyung

πέος, 2021

Red Clay  

(if you recognize this penis, please ask for the artist)

  “ What does it mean?”

“ Penis ”

Jimin hums, crossing his arm over his chest. “I guess I was not expecting anything less.”

Yoongi chooses that moment to appear, whistling his praise.

“So you did work this semester.” He jokes, bobbing his head with approval.

“Har, har.” Like he’s one to talk. He basically spent the last few months becoming one with his bed.

His phone vibrates in his pocket, and he expects it to be Hoseok or Seokjin telling him they’re here, but instead it’s from Jungkook, and it’s a picture.

A little gasp of surprise escapes him.

His hands shake as he opens up the text app, his heart thumping as the picture loads. He presses on it once it’s ready, taking up the full screen, and Taehyung can finally-... well, Taehyung can’t do anything with that. His case of face blindness is pretty severe, so even drawings are unrecognizable for him. But it’s something! A new clue! He can make a flyer out of this! He can-

“Why do you have a portrait of Namjoon on your phone?”

Time stops.

Yoongi’s voice echoes in his head, mocking him, but also stealing the carpet right from underneath his feet.

Why do you have a portrait of Namjoon on your phone?

A portrait of Namjoon

Namjoon

Namjoon, who stood in front of him silently, that day Yoongi invited him out, probably expecting some kind of reaction from Taehyung.

Namjoon who frequents the campus gym.

Namjoon, who’s tall and broad-shouldered.

Namjoon, who’s been around Taehyung for a while but was never told about his condition. 

Namjoon, who probably thinks Taheyung has been ignoring him all this time.

“Jesus fucking christ, My Mystery Man Is Kim Namjoon.”

Both his friends voice their confusion as Taehyung tries to rip his hair from his head.

“This penis belongs to Kim Namjoon, who doesn’t know I have face blindness, and who probably think I’ve been ignoring him all this fucking time.”

“Holy shit,” Yoongi says at the same time as Park Jimin, that prick, starts cackling uncontrollably. Taehyung always knew he was evil.

“This is- I’m so sorry but- This shouldn't be funny– But I can’t, it’s too funny.” He wheezes out in between laughter. “He was right there, probably confused as hell as to why you were showing his dick to everyone- I’m sorry this is so funny but also so, so sad. You never- oh my god.”

Under the attention of about half the gallery, he wipes the tears from his eyes, body convulsing with laughter.

“What the fuck are you waiting for.” He finally manages to say, taking a deep breath. “Hyung, didn’t you drag him here tonight?”

That seems to snap Yoongi out of his stupor.

“Fuck, yes he’s here, he’s... There!-” He says pointing somewhere, but then his voice dies down. “And now he’s leaving...”

Taehyung spots the man with a black cap currently walking out the exit with an angry stride. He reacts on instinct, running after his Not So Mysterious Man Anymore.

+

Kim Namjoon is having a very no good, very bad day. 

Not because of school, no. He aced all his finales, he doesn’t even need to get his grades back to know.

Not because of the weather either. No, it’s a beautiful spring day, and there’s a hint of cherry blossom in the air, wrapping the world in a romantic tint.

No, the reason he’s having a very no good very bad day, is because he can’t, for the love of God, get Kim Taehyung out of his head. 

It started with a very interesting dream, clearly drawing inspiration from the night they spent together. It woke him up at the crack of dawn, sweating up bullets and hard as a rock. Finding sleep afterward was nearly impossible, meaning his first precious day of vacation started way too fucking early.

Now music theory never sleeps, so he simply spent his morning trying to forget his dream, channeling all his energy on composing. 

But then Min Yoongi, long-time friend and co-compositor, had to go and ruin his fragile peace of mind by reminding him he had two tickets for the sculpting department exhibition, and Namjoon was obligated to show up. Meaning he would inevitably run into Kim Taehyung; Meaning he would agonize about him all day; Meaning , that he would be thinking about Kim Fucking Taehyung all day.

But it’s ok, because he was finally starting to come to terms with that too. Taehyung would probably ignore him again, and all he needed to do was circle the gallery once and get the fuck out.

But no.

Oh no.

Life had better plans.

Because right into the center of Taehyung's exhibition space, is his very own penis, standing proudly, mocking him.

He can recognize it from the flyers, so he knows instantly that it’s Taehyung’s work. 

He’s stunned by the audacity, wondering once again what he did to draw Taehyung’s ire upon himself. The flyers were not enough, no he had to go and put it on display as his final fuck you to Namjoon. Even wrote 'penis' in greek as a title, confirming Namjoon's theory that this is all a ploy to make fun of him.

Namjoon has had enough, he’s getting the fuck out of there. 

He spins on his heel at the speed of light, taking advantage of every inch of his long legs to walk out as fast as possible. He ignores the call of his name that follows after him, readjusting the cap on his head.

He’s fuming, feeling tears of frustration building up. He doesn’t deserve this. He’s been nothing but respectful of Taehyung. He’s been staying away from him too. 

He doesn’t deserve this.

He makes it a few blocks before his phone starts going off every 5 seconds with incoming texts, forcing him to finally look at it.

 Yoongi Hyung:

6:14 pm   Before anything, know that Taehyung suffers from severe face blindness.

6:14 pm   I know you know what that means you wikipedia rat

6:15 pm   I didn’t tell you cause it’s none of my business who he chooses to tell

6:15 pm   But the dumbass has been trying to find you for weeks using your dick because he had no other way to identify you

6:15 pm   Your pinning hasn't been exactly subtle either

6:16 pm    he ran after you when you left but I bet he’s pleading with the wrong person in the street right now

6:17 pm   Nice dick by the way

 He rereads the series of text to try and make sense of them. Only after the third read, does he finally understand.

Well, shit.

+

“Please Namjoon listen to me, you have to listen to me, I didn't mean to ignore you, I just didn't know it was you!-” Taehyung pleads, holding on to his sleeve.

“Can you please let go of me?!”

His voice sounds a little older than what Taehyung remembers, but he doesn’t have the time to think too much about that. Maybe he’s got a cold or something.

“-I can explain everything if you can just give me two minutes-”

“I don’t know who you think I am, but I’m not this kind of person.”

Taehyung isn’t deterred, holding on to him desperately “-Please I swear just two- no, one minute, even one minute is enough-”

Someone clears their throat, tapping him softly on the shoulder. 

“Sorry sir, I believe my friend here is mistaking you for me.”

Now that’s a familiar voice. A voice he recognizes from many occasions. 

Taehyung lets go of his poor unsuspecting victim, taking a step back which is all it takes for them to run away from him.

He finally comes face to face with the source of all his past weeks' torment.

The height is there, the shoulders are there, the body proportions are there, the hair color is completely different, but Jimin did mention he changed it recently. He’s got the black cap on, the one that made Taehyung mistake a perfect stranger on the street for him.

It’s him. He found him. It’s his Mystery Man, his cinderella. He’s got him.

“Namjoon?”

“Yes, that’s me.” He confirms, voice gentle.

“Kim Namjoon.” He repeats, trying the name out on his tongue. His body is filling up with butterflies, and he can’t feel his toes.

“And here I thought you just could never remember my name.”

“I can explain–” He rushes, eager to get rid of the misunderstanding.

“It’s ok, Yoongi told me.”

“And about your penis–”

“Yes, Yoongi told me about that too.” Namjoon cuts him off, the tip of his ears getting pink.

“I’m so sorry– I should have asked your name then. I mean– you made me come four times .”

Namjoon chuckles, catching one of Taehyung’s hands mid flail and holding it with both of his, making his heart jump.

“We’ve basically known each other for years, so maybe it’s a good thing you didn’t. I don’t think I would have appreciated it then.”

“I guess that’s true. I’m still sorry.”

“I’m sorry too, I could have come up to you first. I mean, I’m the one who sneaked out in the morning. I had an 8 am class, by the way. I didn’t leave because I wanted to. But you have my number so… I assumed you would call me. ”

“I have your number...?” It's pretty vague, but it does ring a bell. He's got a blurry memory of time, around their first meeting, when Namjoon and he had exchanged their numbers for Yoongi related reasons. “That’s right, I do have your number. Fuck.”

“Well, I know now this wouldn’t have changed anything for you, since you simply didn't know it was me you were with.” Namjoon snorts, but not unkindly. More at the situation. 

But Taehyung still feels terrible.

“I’m so sorry.” He whines, feeling like burying his face in Namjoon’s chest. But they’re not there yet. “I tend to keep people at a distance to avoid misunderstandings.”

“It’s ok, I get it now. I guess I wish I knew before, but I get it now.”

“Good. I should have told you sooner. I was actually planning on doing it soon if that’s any consolation.”

“It is.” Namjoon murmurs, inching closer to him.

“Cool, cool cool.” Taehyung blurts out nervously.

This is it. This is his chance. Everything that has transpired in the last few weeks is leading up to this moment. 

"So," Namjoon starts when Taehyung has been silent for too long. "Yoongi said you were looking for me... Any particular reasons?"

"Well, yes." He answers but stops. All of this means nothing. It doesn't mean that Namjoon will accept to go out with him. He has no idea how Namjoon feels about him, and he sure as hell cannot tell by his facial expression. He's going in blind, no reason to believe that Namjoon wants to have to do anything with him. For all he knows, Namjoon is only here to settle the misunderstanding, and then be on his way. Maybe he's even mad about the penis flyers.

But then he also remembers that Namjoon is holding his hand right now. It's now or never.

He takes a deep breath for bravery and goes for it.

“Kim Namjoon, can I please take you out on a date?”

Namjoon doesn’t let him second guess himself, word leaving his mouth as fast as a blink.

“Absolutely.”

Apparently, they’ve gathered a crowd because there’s cheerful hooting and shouting erupting around them. But Taehyung pays them no mind as he goes in for a hug, Namjoon meeting him halfway.

“Wait, wait,” Namjoon says, suddenly, taking a step back. “I still don’t know why you put my penis on display at the center of your exhibition.”

Taehyung chuckles, bringing Namjoon back in. 

“Simple, ‘cause it’s a masterpiece.”

+

 2 months later

There’s a knock at the door, which throws Taehyung off. He’s getting ready for his date with Namjoon– their actual first date– and is not expecting anyone. Jimin knows the code, so it can’t be him, unless–

“Hello sir, would you be open to receiving the words of our lord and savior, Jesus Christ?”

“Jimin, I swear to god, I can tell it’s you by your voice. And no one from church would dress like you do, slut.”

Moving in with Jimin is as much a blessing as it is a curse. A blessing because, well, they’re best friends. A curse because his best friend’s favorite hobby is to try and prank him. Taehyung almost misses the time where Jimin was treating his face blindness as a taboo. 

Almost.

The last two months have been a whirlwind of life-changing events for Taehyung. 

First, moving in with Jimin is a pretty big deal. Not only has Taehung been living alone for the last three years, living with someone is sometimes a challenge for him. Wondering why a stranger is standing in your kitchen at 3 am, brain slowed down by sleep and the weak lighting not helping, isn’t always a recipe for success. But he’s slowly getting used to it, and Jimin, as much as he can be a prick, is being patient with him.

The second big event is, well, his current job. Somehow his workshop teacher, even after everything, recommended him for a job at a sculpture academy. He now teaches different types of sculpting medium to children, four nights a week. Pretty sweet gig.

At first, he was going crazy out of his mind worrying about working with children, but four weeks in and he’s feeling confident. He sat down with the kids the first week to explain to them what face blindness is, and although the children were initially confused, they now enjoy switching names with each other for the duration of his classes, to mess with his head.

Jokes on them, Taehyung also called their parents during that first week. So far, none of the children have noticed that their parents have been making them wear certain accessories every time they leave for the academy. Checkmates.

And the last big event, of course, is Namjoon. 

In between moving, his new job, and Namjoon’s own busy schedule, they have yet to go on an actual full-blown date. But they’ve slowly been getting to know each other. They make time to go on quick coffee dates sometimes, and they text none-stop. Namjoon hasn’t seen his new place yet, but they’ve hung out at Namjoon’s plenty of time. 

His boyfriend (he gets giddy thinking about that word) also showed up at the academy a few times to walk him back home (The first time he kept it as a surprise, but he quickly realized Taehyung didn’t like surprises; especially when it means having a tall stranger approach him in the dark without saying anything. Now he texts beforehand.)

“Do you like this outfit? Or should I go with my floral button-up?” He asks Jimin, who’s lounging on his bed after his failed prank attempt. 

“Why are you so stressed? It’s not like it's the first time you two see each other.”

“Because the chances of me getting laid tonight are extremely high and I want to look good.”

“Oh?” Jimin perks up, knowing full well Taehyung and Namjoon have been taking their time to get to know each other. “Should I sleepover at Hobi’s tonight?”

Another new development from the last two months: Jimin and Hoseok’s instant attraction. They’ve been dancing around each other since the exhibition, but it looks like it’s finally getting ‘ sleeping-over-at-each-others-place ’ serious.

“...Good idea,” Taehyung answers, not because he wants the house to himself (though it’s a nice perk), but he likes giving a little push to love sometimes.

His friend circle can finally be called a circle now. Somehow, Hoseok, Seokjin, and Namjoon just naturally fit into his now actually social, social life. Namjoon was the easiest since he already knew Yoongi and Jimin. Hoseok got it easy by becoming Jimin’s more-than-friend, and Seokjin just showed up one day with a video of that time, outside the gallery, when Taehyung thought an older gentleman was Namjoon because of his black cap. 

He looks at the time, curses when he realizes he’s going to be late. He grabs his wallet and puts on his shoes in a rush, and makes it out the door accompanied by Jimin shouting “Don’t you dare fuck on the couch or you’re buying a new one!”

He makes it to the Bar with only a few minutes to spare, and as luck would have it, Jungkook is working. He’s come to recognize his tattooed arm and bleached locks instantly. 

Namjoon would have texted him if he was there, which means he’s cutting it close as well, so he sends a quick ‘here 💖’ text before sitting down at the Bar with a big smile.

“You make me want to puke,” Jungkook says, disgust dripping from his words. 

“Hey now don’t be jealous, I’m sure you’ll find yourself a monster cock as well one day.”

Somehow, he and Jungkook started texting on a semi-regular basis. It’s mostly Jungkook begging Taehyung to introduce him to Seokjin (apparently he’s been crushing on the man since he first saw him at the coffee shop), which Taehyung has to find excuses every time to avoid telling Jungkook the cold, harsh truth.

(“I don’t date men with bleached hair, it ruins my whole aesthetic.” Jin said after the first time Taehyung asked. Which aesthetic he’s talking about, Taehyung has no idea.)

But that also means that Jungkook has heard all about his very fascinating and blooming love story with Namjoon.

“Did you tell Seokjin I said hi?”

“Dude, just go and ask him out. You know where he works, you know where he studies, you even know his birthday, which is really creepy when you two have never talked by the way. Just, go ask him out, he won’t be able to resist you once he actually sees how attractive you are.” He pauses for a second, then adds for safety measure, “But if he reaches in his pocket, just run the other way.”

“What?” 

“Don’t ask, just trust me.” Taehyung has some unpleasant flashbacks of a bottle of pepper spray being waved in front of his face. He shakes his head to try and get rid of the memory.

“And how would you even know that I’m attractive, you don’t actually know what I look like.” Jungkook retorts.

“Shut up, just go and ask him.”

“Just go and ask him what?” A familiar voice asks from behind him, and Taehyung's smile is back full force. He rotates on his chair and jumps into Namjoon’s arms, hearing him groan under the strain of his weight. He can hear Jungkook fake gagging behind him, the actual child.

They share a quick kiss before they both sit down at the bar.

“You’re not seriously thinking about having your date here, are you?”

Taehyung snorts, tempted to mess with Jungkook, but Namjoon is the one to answer.

“No we just wanted to get the evening started with a nice drink, but we have a reservation to an actual fancy restaurant, paid graciously by Taehyung's actual serious adult job.”

“Is it a serious adult job if he had to stop a kid from eating his donut-shaped clay yesterday?”

“Shut up. If you keep being like that I’m going to order the most annoying thing on the menu.”

Jungkook scoffs and walks away, without actually taking their orders.

They both watch him do a big show of ignoring them, answering other customers without turning in their direction.

“Let’s just get out of here.” Namjoon whispers in his ear. “We can go waste time walking around aimlessly, hand in hand.”

“God, you’re so cheesy,” Taehyung mutters, but he actually loves it.

His dating experience before Namjoon amounts to an enormous zero, but it’s not because he’s one of those unattainable, i-don’t-believe-in-love types of people that live rent-free in Hollywood movies. He simply never thought it would be possible to get close to someone romantically with his condition. But since officially meeting Namjoon, he’s been researching, and turns out, he totally can. 

There are even people, artists like him, who've noticed that repeatedly drawing or painting their loved one has made them actually able to remember their face (not 100% of the time, but he’ll take what he can get.). So he’s been sketching, using pictures, trying out different angles. He’s planning on using clay at one point. He’s totally the girl from Lionel Richie’s music video. Which makes Namjoon Lionel Richie.

“Did you know that I was inspired by Lionel Richie’s music video to sculpt your penis?”

Namjoon chuckles under his breath, squeezing Taehyung’s hand just a little bit more. The hot summer air is making their palms sweaty, but they both don’t care. 

“Where is that thing, by the way? It’s been a while since I’ve last seen it.”

“I put it on my bedside table when I moved in and I haven't moved it since. I’m thinking about making it into a lamp. I have to keep it out of reach of Jimin and Hoseok, they both seem a little too interested.”

Namjoon grimaces. Or Taehyung is assuming that’s his grimacing face. 

“Please never let it fall into their hands.”

“I swear on my honor, I shall protect your penis.”

“Thank you, I feel better now. I still can’t believe they put it on the first page of ‘Sculpting Now’. Crazy how all of your friends and the sculpting world know what my dick looks like.

“It’s a masterpiece. If it was mine I would never keep it in my pants, I’d always want to show it off.”

“How are you not in prison right now?”

“I don’t have your dick in my pants, sadly. Did you know that Seokjin almost pepper-sprayed me the first time we met? In retrospect, having a stranger run after you, pleading for you to look at their dick is a good excuse to pull out your pepper spray.”

“Wait, you did what?”

“It was all in the name of love.”

Namjoon shakes his head, probably disappointed in him.

+

Namjoon is utterly enamored. Every time Taehyung recalls a story from when he ran around school trying to find him, he falls a little bit more in love. 

He was so nervous for their first romantic date that he couldn’t eat during the day, but Taehyung is making him feel at ease, as he usually does, so hunger is coming back with a vengeance.

“Should we go to the restaurant now?” He asks, pulling Taehyung along with him. "It's almost time."

“Let’s.” Taehyung agrees readily, “I’m ravenous.”

They quickly make their way to the restaurant, only to find its door closed. There’s a sign in the window reading “Closed for vermin infestation”.

“Oh.” Namjoon says, “Dammit. That’s not good.”

There’s this awkward silence, filled with growling sounds from both their bellies. It’s too late to make reservations anywhere nice, and anywhere else risks being too loud for a romantic Rendez-Vous. Namjoon is scrambling his brain for a solution when Taehyung’s shy voice interrupts.

“Hum, if you want to– Jimin told me he wouldn't be home tonight, so… You want to come over? We can pick up some ramen on the way.”

Taehyung’s face might be neutral, but the blush growing on his cheeks is anything but. Namjoon takes a moment to appreciate the sight that he makes, burning up in embarrassment. Without the blushing, Namjoon would have believed he’s only inviting him for ramen, but the angry red of his cheeks is definitely betraying Taehyung’s intentions.

He nods his agreement, feeling anticipation replace hunger in the pit of his stomach.

+

 Having Namjoon in his space is a new experience. 

The apartment is still messy from their move, boxes lying around, but they’ve managed to make it quite homey. Everything that is necessary to their everyday life has been unboxed, only the odd objects being ignored by Jimin and him.

He puts on some soft music to set a nice mood, and Namjoon is humming along straight away, which is all the approval he needs to feel confident about his music selection. Music Theory graduate approved. 

 He gets to work on the ramen while he directs Namjoon on where to find a cheap bottle of wine and some wine glasses. He sets the table, trying to make it as nice as possible, but it’s really just a pot of bubbling ramen and two bowls with some chopsticks. 

They eat in comfortable silence, the music playing in the background mixing with the sound of their eating.

But then Namjoon dumps the content of his wine glass on his tan-colored pants, and it’s downhill from there.

“Damn it!” He curses, jumping to his feet. He grabs some napkins to try and pat some wine off, but it’s already been absorbed by his fancy suit pants. 

“Quick, take them off,” Taehyung says, not thinking too hard and only reacting to the situation at hand. “Let’s rinse them in the sink.” 

Namjoon complies, taking them off in record time, passing them on to Taehyung like it’s a relay race.

Taehyung deposits them straight in the sink, opening the tap and letting the water hopefully get rid of most of the stain. They both stand there for a minute, staring at the water filling up. 

But then it hits Taehyung that Namjoon’s thighs are currently bare and in his vicinity. He sneaks a quick peek to satisfy his horny brain, but he’s quick to snap his eyes back to the sink to avoid doing anything stupid.

Like, let’s say , dropping to his knees. 

He can feel himself blushing, his cheeks, ears, and neck feeling hot. He knew exactly what he was doing, inviting Namjoon for some ramen, but now that he can act on it, he’s suddenly feeling very shy. 

Plus, not being able to read facial expressions never really impaired his ability to get laid. He used to just– go to the bar, wait until someone would offer him to get out of there, and go for it. 

But this is not a bar, and Namjoon won’t ask him if he wants to get out of there. He has no idea how to tell if Namjoon wants to jump into bed with him. Or not. 

He takes matters into his own hands.

“So, as you know,” He starts, staring intently at the water flowing out of the tap, “this whole face blindness thing– I can’t really read your facial expressions. So in the future, it’ll be hard for me to figure out if you’re angry or happy, or sad, or… or horny. I’ve never done this whole– Romantic relationship thing, but I’m guessing we’re going to have to be really vocal with how we’re feeling, what we want, whatnot.”

He lets his statements hang in the air, staring at the stain that doesn’t seem to want to go away. He’s thinking maybe this will have to be removed professionally. 

But then, Namjoon chooses that moment to drop a soft kiss on his nape.

“Are you asking me, right now, if I want you?” 

Taehyung turns around, letting himself be cornered against the counter. Namjoon has his nicely defined biceps, somehow peeking through his suit vest, on each side of him. He absolutely loves it.

“Yes. I am.”

Namjoon kisses his neck once again, and Taehyung is this close to losing it. 

“I absolutely want you.” His boyfriend finally answers, landing a heavy kiss on his lips, sucking all the air out of Taehyung’s lungs.

 After turning Taehyung’s inside to mush via lips on lips crime, he returns to his assault on Taehyung’s neck, peppering the skin he can reach with sweet kisses, each one sending electricity straight to his groin. 

“Do you want me?” Namjoon questions softly into his ear, making Taehyung's eyes roll back so far he’s scared they’ll never come back. 

“Fuck yes.” He grinds out, voice turning to a whine when Namjoon, emboldened by Taehyung’s enthusiasm, rocks his pelvis into his in a languid motion.

He sees white then, bringing Namjoon’s mouth back to his, smashing their mouths together in a wet and messy kiss.

“How important are your pants?” He inquires in between kisses, enjoying the slow grinding Namjoon has going on. He’s still in his suit pants, but Namjoon only has the thin cotton of his boxer brief as a barrier. Taehyung can clearly feel his monster cock waking up from its slumber. 

“Not very important.” He finally answers, hands letting go of the counter to firmly grab at Taehyung’s ass. 

Taehyung can proudly say he’s got a fat ass, and Namjoon seems to appreciate it if the growl that escapes him is anything to go by.

He gets to work on the buttons of Namjoon’s dress shirt, Namjoon getting the message and taking his vest off by himself. Soon he’s standing there in only his boxer briefs and socks, while Taehyung is still fully dressed.

It’s kind of hot. 

They slow it down a little, Taehyung pushing Namjoon away so he can take a good look at him. 

The light of the kitchen falls almost gracefully over Namjoon’s defined chest, creating shadows that chisel out his muscles even more. It’s a sight to behold. 

He drags his hands down Namjoon's body, teasing a nipple as he goes with a flick of the thumb, mapping out his taut stomach with the tip of his finger, then coming back up to hold onto his strong shoulders.

“You know, I’m like, really good at massages. I feel like this is something you should know.”

Seems like this is all the time Namjoon will allow him away from him. He reels him back in with an arm around his waist, the other taking hold of one of Taehyung’s hands and bringing it to his mouth. He nips at his fingers, maintaining eye contact while he uses his tongue to soothe the sting.

How he’s even real is beyond Taehyung.

“Do you need help undressing?” Namjoon teases, reaching for his belt.

“Let me close the tap and we can move this to my room.” 

Namjoon doesn’t give him a response, only cages him once again against the counter, plastering the full length of his warm body to his. He reaches behind Taehyung and moments later, the soft ambiance music is the only thing they can hear again. 

Taehyung leads him to his bedroom, taking off his vest as they go. Somehow Namjoon already got his belt buckle, so he unceremoniously drops his pants to the floor, then jumps on his bed.

“Welcome to my room. That’s my desk, that’s my bedside table, that’s a replica of your penis, but I heard the original is planning on making an appearance tonight. This is my bed. Hope you enjoyed the tour.” He finally gets to the final button, looking up eagerly as he sends his shirt off to the side, wondering what’s taking Namjoon so long to get on the goddamn bed.

He finds his lover completely captivated by his penis duplicate.

“You’ve got the same one in your pants, you know. Get you your ass over here.” 

“Sorry I was just thinking… it’s crazy how similar you made it only from your memory.”

“Excuse me?” Taehyung objects, crossing his arms over his chest. “They’re not just similar, they’re identical.” 

“Only one way to check, is there?” Namjoon taunts, before finally, finally getting rid of his briefs, releasing the Kraken. 

Except he also grabs hold of the sculpture, bringing it close so he can do a side-by-side comparison. 

“You’re right, it is identical. How did you even manage that?” He says, awe in his voice. “Have you ever used it on yours–” 

Namjoon loses his train of thought as he takes in the sight of Taehyung, laying in bed completely naked, pumping himself at a leisurely pace and looking very unimpressed. 

“No, I haven’t. But if you don’t get into bed in the next 5 seconds I just might consider it.”

Namjoon doesn’t have to be told twice.

[sheepfulsheepyardinspace]

Do you have any Star Wars fanfic recommendations, or have a link to someone else's list? I really wanna veg out.

oh my god, DO I. this may have been the best ask in the world. i’m not really sure what u want a feel for, so i threw together some of my favorite longfics for maximum veg time from the ot/pt and links for swr and swtcw recs. they’re pretty much all luke-anakin/vader centric, since that’s kinda my bread and butter.

let’s start with frodogenic, who wrote the first longfic i ever read in sw and might be one of the funniest authors ever. they once reviewed my fanfic & i nearly cried from joy. anyway. 

The Father, 284k+, complete. “Ten years after ROTS, tormenting nightmares of his unborn child drive Darth Vader to extraordinary measures with unexpectedly drastic consequences. Clearly, experience has taught Darth Vader nothing...” 

this is my og star wars fic and boy oh boy is it amazing. i will never get over this. i don’t want to spoil anything but when i say the final chapters are great? i mean they’re legendary. sometimes i still think about them & wish upon a star that i could be such a great writer. vader’s amazing, han is spectacular, and the ocs are fantastic.

Far More Than Rubies, 70k+, complete. “Nine years after AOTC, tragedy revisits the Lars Homestead. Little Luke Skywalker is suddenly plunged into chaos as the rebel movements discover a secret military project that may make a crucial difference in the war with the Empire.”

the spiritual twin of The Father, FMTR takes a look at padmé’s character and relationship with both luke and anakin/vader that’s hard to beat. it’s darker and heavier than The Father, but it hits those same sweet, sweet emotional beats while raising the age-old question: if padmé had lived, what would she have done?

The Family Tree, 12k, complete. “In which Luke Skywalker is stranded in a tree waiting for a flash flood to recede. Too bad he's got company...”

okay, i admit, this isn’t a longfic, but it is a longshot, and it’s amazing. the imagery and description always blow me away, and the interaction (canon-compliant) between luke and vader just [chef’s kiss] get me. vader’s in full, glorious form, and it makes it all the harder when luke wrestles with the knowledge that vader is his father.

Sibling Revelry, 25k, complete. “After Bespin and before Endor, Darth Vader is shocked to discover that Luke and Leia are twins. He's even more shocked when Imperial Intelligence reports that Organa and Skywalker are, erm, a tad closer than previously suspected.”

this is complete crack and humor in the best way possible. it’s crack treated entirely seriously, and you will be in stitches, i promise. no matter how many times i’ve read this i break down.

KittandChips (@kittandchips) writes what i can only describe as food for the soul. the luke-vader interaction is insanely amazing, the world building of daily imperial life and imperial governance is amazing, and vader just has a special je ne sais quoi that u must read to understand––tragic, funny, and so, so fatherly. they’re currently rewriting the Force Bond Series to fit in with newer canon, so i will joyously binge reread the entire again (including the new Force Bond: Mustafar Weekend).

Force Bond 1: Orphan, 47k, complete. “After Owen and Beru are killed by a mysterious stranger, young Luke ends up as an orphan on Coruscant. It's a race against time as Obi-Wan struggles to find Luke before Vader realizes the boy is his son.”

Orphan kicks off the series, which tracks vader and luke’s relationship through the perils of luke’s teenagerhood while growing up under the eye of the emperor and imperial court. it’s filled with slow growth, struggle and misunderstandings as darth vader tries to single parent, and pay off in every installment. the entire series clocks in around 777k+ and is the most joyful, fulfilling reading you’ll ever have. promise.

darth-nickels (@darth--nickels) writes darker, twistier, and terribly, terribly heartwrenching aus. they’ve got a whole host, but let me introduce to my two favorites. also, check out their faux-academia on vader. it’s amazing and i love it, but i admit i am an academia hoe.

Dooku Captured, Pt 2, 16k, complete. “Dooku is taken alive onboard the Invisible Hand, and Sidious' web is torn. The Sith Lord wonders if death might have been preferable to clumsy interrogation by Anakin Skywalker.”

Dooku Captured is a longshot au told from Dooku’s pov which takes the beginning of ROTS and throws it on its head. it’s a fascinating outside perspective of anakin and obi-wan’s relationship and such and interesting examination of dooku’s psyche and especially his complex relationship with the jedi order, qui-gon, yoda, and palpatine. i cannot rec this one enough.

Black Mirror, 90k, incomplete. “The Ghost crew returns to the Lothal when they hear the Empire is investigating the Jedi Temple there. They learn Vader is alone and decide to take him out-- but what they find could change the course of Galactic history.”

Black Mirror diverges into swr territory, but make no mistake: this is entirely an examination of vader and, later, obi-wan as well as ahsoka. luke makes his appearance later in the game, and boy oh boy will you love luke’s portrayal is a microcosm of luke and vader’s relationship within canon. heed the tags, though.

jerseydevious ( @jerseydevious ) is, first and foremost, one of my favorite people on earth. secondly, though, she’s an amazing writer with a deep understanding of vader’s character and psyche, a flair for beautiful depictions, and the true ability to wring every emotion out of your body.

Two and a Half Men (with a baby), 13k, incomplete. “After a long day of bargaining with Hutts and attempting to ignore his past, Darth Vader is nearing the end of his rope. When he discovers his two-year-old son, it's the straw that breaks the semi-rational Sith Lord's back; in a rash act worthy of the Skywalker name, he scoops his son into his arms, steals a shuttle from his own fleet, and punches in random hyperspace coordinates to a destination on the other side of the galaxy. Unfortunately, father and son are not the only ones on the ship.”

Two and a Half Men will stick with you, dude. like no other. i promise. it’s a whirlwind ride with obi-wan, vader, and piett and as funny as it is heartbreaking. it touches on some heavy issues and doesn’t shy away from looking at the damage done to vader––again, heed the tags.

Helioseismology, 4k, complete. “Luke gets shot down on a supply run and caught in an ice storm. It's extremely lucky that his father followed him there.“

i’ll admit. im completely biased about this one because it was a birthday gift to me and i am sucker for litcherally anything when jd puts pen to paper, but believe me when i say you will be awed by the depth and tangled relationships between these luke and vader that jersey can illustrate in a stroke of the paintbrush. im love. always.

izzythehutt ( @izzythehutt ) i am blown away by the intricate dialogue and characterization, always. and the latin puns? im sold. im also a sucker for latin puns, but that’s a story for a different time.

In Loco Pirates, 34k, complete. “A down-on-his-luck Hondo Ohnaka manages to capture the unicorn of all bounties--Luke Skywalker, which sends Darth Vader, Lord of the Sith, on a painfully familiar trip to the planet Florrum to collect his prize. The failed negotiations leave Vader in the awkward position of being stuck in a besieged pirate bunker, trying to balance keeping his wayward child safe (and in his custody) with controlling the tongue of a loose-lipped pirate who--to the surprise of no one--has a bad habit of telling 'amusing' anecdotes from the Clone Wars.”

hondo, aka the best character of swtcw, is brought to life just as vividly on paper as on screen. his entire personality brings luke and vader’s difficulties in a sort of incredulous light, which makes it as funny as it is vulnerable and tragic. the sequel, Palpatine Ad Portas, brings piett into the spotlight, and oh man do his interactions with palpatine and vader bring u all the uncomfortable vibes. relish in it.

sparklight ( @littlesparklight ) man. lemme introduce u to an amazing prolific and detailed writer. i will never get over the series they’ve written & neither will u.

Where Our Intrepid Hero Doesn’t Get Away, 122k, incomplete. “One-shots surrounding either AU situations of canon/legends works where Luke would normally have gotten away (or Vader is simply inserted into the action to come pick his child up) but in these instances doesn't, or completely new scenarios of the same. There are no deep ruminations on consequences of the situations here, just our awful Sith dad picking his son up when he'd rather not be.”

exactly what it says on the tin. u know those glorious moments of fanfic where luke’s gotten captured and ur on pins and needles, waiting for vader to show up in a moment of dark glory? here’s the moment. here’s all the moments.

Space Race, 122k, incomplete. “Owen gives in to Luke's wish to attend the Imperial Academy and Obi-Wan is too late to avert it, though he's not too late to make sure Luke leaves Arkanis before Vader can gets his hands on him. Luke spends over a month running around the galaxy before his father gets him, and from there...”

this story relishes in chase and boy is it fun. it will keep you on the edge of your seat and it’s an amazing ride.

The Suns of Tatooine, 85k, complete. “Luke ends up on a moon swamped in dark side energy after a mission goes wrong, then his father appears... and then they go on a bit of a learning experience. This could've been the only thing that would come of getting through a Sith complex with his father, but thanks to going to free Han earlier than the gang did otherwise, more revelations are had. Will that change anything?”

this series is a thoughtful, contemplative piece examining the nature of the force and the relationship the skywalkers have with tatooine. the descriptions are beautiful, the inventiveness is amazing, and you’ll be thinking about it for long afterwards.

an additional few…

Between Flight and Longing; 34k, complete. “Luke Skywalker and Han Solo journey to the planet Balen'ar on a desperate mission and find more than they'd bargained for.”

a classic and it is for a reason. the interaction between han, luke, and vader is so spectacular and the slow trudge of going through the forest with your greatest enemy and best friend is something hilarious. the end is bittersweet and fantastic.

The Sith Who Brought Life Day, 13k, complete. “An Imperial officer loses a bet and has to get Darth Vader a present for Life Day.”

somewhere between terrifying and dull, this fic presents a canon-compliant look at the hunt for luke and the grinding wheels of the empire. the oc is amazing and it echoes in true star wars spirit: sometimes it’s just some dude who can change the galaxy.

Quintessence, 5k, complete. ‘“Well, Master, I think I’ve found the one positive aspect of this situation.” “Which is?” “The Temple won’t have to pay the costs for our funeral pyres.”’

pure hilarity and shenanigans abound in pre-aotc obi-wan and anakin hijink goodness. lemme tell u––u will deeply sympathize with mace windu afterwards. additionally, check out the rest of the author’s oneshots! they’re deeply thoughtful and the interactions the author writes between obi-wan and anakin are always gold.

some extras & shameless self-promotion

here’s a full list of recommendations for star wars rebels fanfic in case this is what you’re looking for (remember when this used to be a swr blog, lmao)

i’ve also written sw fanfic, both swr and luke-vader centric. drop by and tell me if it’s any good!

[fandomsoverlife]

Morning lovin (Duncan Shepherd x reader smut)

This is really short and tbh I’m not even that mad about it. It kinda sucks, whoops.

Word count: 1.6k, warnings: unprotected sex and bad language (wear condoms y’all). There’s a weird format thing going on and i have no control over it and I’m sorry in advance. This is some really soft Duncan Shepherd x reader smut, with a little bit of breeding kink mixed in.

———————————————————————

Duncan had been watching her for awhile.

He had woken up early to take an unexpected business call and had to carefully scramble out of bed before his phone woke her up, his precious baby, his sweet doll, the love of his life, his fiancée.

In fact he had asked that very question last night, and that $13k ring he had bought her was on her dainty lil finger just to prove the point.

He was kinda worried that he’d only dreamed that she said yes, but that ring and the multiple love bites decorating her skin were there to comfort him. Duncan kept watching her, the steady rise and fall of her chest with each breath she took, a rare wrinkle of her nose or twitch of her eyebrow, the occasional sounds she made, and he felt his heart soar when she snuggled into him - even if it was just for his warmth or his presence (she was a cuddly little thing, even if they fell asleep separate from each other he often found himself waking up as the little spoon).

God he loved her so much. Duncan blinked, realizing his eyes were a little watery just thinking about how much he loves her, truly, deeply loves her - and he could never get enough of her.

He carefully raised his hand and slid it down her body, the dip of her waist and the curve of her hip, cupping her plump ass and biting his lip just a tad. He had an idea, and since it was his idea it was a wonderful one. Lifting up their comforter he slid his way underneath and nestled himself in his absolute favorite place to be, planting open mouthed kisses on her inner thighs and then over the lace of her panties - delicate and black, one of his favorite thongs that she owned and he didn’t even buy it for her. He stuck his tongue out and flattened it, licking a stripe up her covered cunt and evoking a moan from her, a soft one that he could hardly hear - so he licked again, this time it was sloppier, and he could taste her getting wet through her panties. “Duncan?”

He responded by pulling the lace aside and running his tongue along her slit.

“Oh, lord.” She yawned, parting her legs even farther for him. “Oh hello engagement ring.”

Duncan chuckled against her, wrapping his lips around her clit and giving a careful suck.

“Oh, baby, you know this isn’t really a proper breakfast in bed.”

He pulled away to push the covers off of his head, smiling up at her. “I’m eating, so I think it counts.”

“Good morning.” She smiled, her eyes crinkling as she giggled at the sight of his hair. “Did you know I-oh!”

Duncan had very quickly returned to his place, lapping at her slit while he thumbed little circles on her clit, his scruff scratching the insides of her thighs.

“I love you.” Her hands slid in his hair, balling up and grasping it by the roots. “So much, Duncan Shepherd.”

He smiled, pulling his mouth back. “I love you too, future Mrs. Shepherd. Unless you wanna hyphenate your names, in which case you might have to pursuance my mother into letting me do the same.”

“Annette loves me enough that it should work.” She giggled as his pushed a finger inside her heat. “Your fingers always feel so much better than mine do.”

“Good thing you’re stuck with me forever than.” He pushed a second finger inside of her, scissoring them and then pumping carefully as he nibbled on her sensitive bud, reveling in her moans and whimpers. “I could eat this pussy for every meal and never get tired of the way you taste, y/n. You’re a treat.”

“Good thing you’re marrying me then, because I couldn’t live without this.” She cried out, back arching as he curled his fingers inside of her, hitting that perfect spot. “Oh good god.”

“I’m not god, I’m your fiancé.” He murmured, his tongue tracing shapes and letters on her clit sloppily, know what she loved best and what made her cum hard enough to cry.

“Seems close enough, ah.” She was squirmy, pushing his face closer to her heat desperately. “Mm, baby, you’re so good to me.”

He hummed, the vibrations making her arch her back even more, and he pushed her hips down with a certain roughness that was enough to push her over the edge (she loved to be manhandled and he loved roughing her up). His lapped up all of her release, dipping his tongue back into her cunt, French kissing her pussy like it would be the last thing he’d ever do until she was pushing his face away and whimpering, her legs twitching and clamping down around his head. “Duncan please I can’t.”

“Mmm but you taste devine.” He sucked on her clit again. “I never wanna stop.”

But he listened anyway, leaning up to kiss her - moaning at the feel of her lips against his, his beard still wet with her cum. She grinned into their embrace - attempting to wrap her arms around him and squealing when she realized her ring was caught in his hair. “Shit.”

They both broke out into giggles (which was rare for him, but she brought the best out of him), parting from each other so she could unknot his hair. He nuzzled his nose in the curve of her neck. “I’m not even angry about that. I’m glad to have that issue, because it means you’re mine.”

“I’m guessing you don’t want me to take the ring off?”

“Unless you’re giving me a hand job, never.” He presses his lips against hers again, with a new hunger inside of him, gripping the backs of her thighs and ruffing his hips against hers. “I want you.”

“I’m yours, Mr. Shepherd.” She bit at his bottom lip, sucking it into her mouth and looking him in the eyes. “I need you.”

He nodded, rolling off of her and pulling her into his lap. “Take me, all of me.”

She grinned, running her hand down his toned chest and biting her lip. “I like it more when you have less clothes on. You’re cute when you’re all dressed up but I like it best when you’re like this.”

“Naked and at your mercy?”

“Obviously.” She rolled her hips against his, leaning back and grinding her ass down on his hard length - still stuff in the confines of his overpriced boxer briefs. “Hm, you’re cute.”

He laughed, placing his hands on her waist and pulling himself up to her. “I love you.”

“Don’t I know it.” She kissed him tenderly, taking his face in her hands and holding him tight, moving in tandem with him, their tongues meeting and twisting around each other. “I love you, too, so much Duncan.”

“Don’t I know it.” He mumbled, mocking her as he pulled her panties aside again to rub at her clit and tease her entrance. “Baby, you’re so wet for me.”

“I wonder why.” She slid her hands down between them and pushed his briefs down far enough that she could stroke his cock. “You’re so hard for me. Can’t wait to have you inside me.”

“Condom?”

She breathed, looking at him. “No, Duncan, I want you to put a baby in me.”

He groaned loudly, throwing his head back. “Don’t tease me like this Y/N. You know I want to fuck you until you’re pregnant.”

She rubbed the head of his cock against her slit and sank down carefully, not taking him in fully before sitting back up. “I’m not teasing you. I want you to put a baby in me, Duncan Shepherd.”

He growled, yanking at the lace of her thong until he heard a satisfying rip sound. “Hey!”

“I’ll get you a new pair, trust me.”

She sank down on his length until he was fully seated inside of her. “God you seem to get tighter every time I fuck you.”

“That’s because, oh, your cock is massive and I can never get enough.” She slid back up before sinking down again, both of them moaning loudly as Duncan dropped his head onto her shoulder and bit down, thrusting up to signal her to go faster. And she did, finding a good rhythm and riding him perfectly, the sounds coming from how wet she was and their skin smacking together was obscene and she fucking loved it, grinding down on him when her legs needed a break before starting again and crying out. “Oh my god, I’m close.”

He grunted, slipping his hand down to rub quick circles on her clit so she would cum first, his dick twitching inside her, ready to bust at any second. “Cum for me, baby. Cum all over my cock, make a fucking mess on me.”

And with that she came, her eyes squeezing shut as her hips stuttered, silent cries coming out of her O shaped mouth. Duncan thrusted up into her even harder, fucking her through her orgasm and then pushing her back onto the bed and fucking her harder. “Oh holy shit Duncan I’m gonna come again. Oh my god.”

He groaned when she clenched around him again, making it almost impossible to move him hips and triggering his own orgasm, his cum spurting inside of her cunt and coating her walls as she came again, and he rubbed lazy circles on her clit until she was calm again. “I love you so much.”

She nodded, pulling him down for a kiss and moaning into his mouth as she rotated her hips. “I love you too.”

—————————

Tag list!!!

@alexcornerblog

@tickled-pinkmoodpoisoning

@avesatanormalpeoplescareme

@marzipan-romanoff

@monsucre

@pastel-cloudz

@lvngdvns (I sent this in an ask once and I think wanted tagged but if not, I apologize).

[stucky-ficrecs]

Completed WIPs, May 2019--Endgame spoilers

Spoilers below!

Keep Me Hanging On by how_about_no (G, 3K)

Then, just as he smashed the hammer down on one of Thanos’ men, a gunshot whistled by so close to his ear he ducked away. His head whipped around to see a large alien down on the ground with a hole in the middle of its forehead. He looked up to see light casting a figure into a shadow.

‘Not the end of the line yet, pal.’ The figure said. Steve’s breathe escaped him. It was so familiar, this feeling. Seeing Bucky again after mourning him.

‘Bucky?’ Steve sounded breathless even to his own ears.

*

The battlefield reunion we never saw, and what should've happened after.

The Way Out Is The Way Back by unconscious (E, 23K)

Sometimes Bucky feels inconceivably old. A soldier’s body is a miracle. His is, in a way, a terrible frightening cyborgian way. What staggering odds that a thrice-resurrected man and a man brimming with irrepressible life would find each other like this. These feelings, he thought his body had forgotten them. That they had died with his heart.

If there’s one truth about Bucky’s overlong, pain-ridden, sometimes heartbreakingly lucky life it’s this: Nothing about him ever really dies.

After Steve leaves, Bucky and Sam try to pick up the pieces.

old man rogers by riddleinacapitalm (T, 2K)

SPOILERS FOR ENDGAME

short and semi-sweet post-endgame fic.

You & Me by Mom_Nicole (T, 2K)

This was a ask on tumblr, but sense it was for endgame things, I couldn't put it with my other fic that holds all my tumblr ask.

The ask: Endgame Steve shoving A1 Steve’s face into the floor while he fucks into him relentlessly.

SPOILERS!

In Time by illwick (M, 15K)

Steve returned to his past to make things right. But it isn't always what it seems.

Solid Gold by alby_mangroves, rohkeutta for CaliFornia (E, 28K)

Life settles onto its track.

stay_with_me.jpg by panacea_knits, the_genderman (T, 7K)

POUGHKEEPSIE, NEW YORK

January 1947

Steve turns the tap on cold, wincing at the water running over his palm. It's not even necessary, probably—little burn like this, he'll be healed up in minutes—but old habits die hard. Stick your hand on a stove burner, you run cold water on it. That's what his Ma taught him to do. It's what a person does.

“I'm sorry—” Bucky's choked-off voice comes from the kitchen doorway, where he's standing stock-still, looking at Steve with wide eyes and clutching his left arm to his side. He's wearing long sleeves, like always, and it's just past five but the sun's already going down, last light glinting off the metal of his left hand.

[A canon-divergent ace!fic by panacea_knits for RBB 2019, art by the_genderman]

But We Were In Screaming Color by linzeestyle (AO3 account required) (E, 36K)

Steve's world has been black and white since 1945, colors burned out like a funeral pyre.

This isn’t supposed to happen.

He Woke Me Up Again by avengingbucks, captaindumbass (E, 96K)

Steve knows a lot about college. He knows not to slack off until he knows which teachers to slack off with. He knows not to leave his laundry in the machines overnight. He knows that he’s going to gain 10lbs and get sick. He knows not to sleep with his roommates, which shouldn’t be too difficult as his only roommate is Sam and the mice that live in the kitchen cupboards of their freshman accommodation. He’s read about it and he’s watched enough movies, he’s got this college thing in the bag. That's until a sharp-witted guy with an even sharper jawline comes into his life, there's not enough list-acles or Reddit threads in the world that can prepare him for that.

Completed but currently reworking (Chapters 1-7 done)

Stuck by CardcaptorGhost (M, 13K)

This is a post-endgame fanfic, if you have not seen endgame then do not read there will be spoilers to the movie.

Steve returns the stones to the correct point in time but gets stuck in the past.

The End of the Line by JJK (M, 18K)

A post Endgame Stucky fix it fic to give Steve and Bucky the closure they (and we) deserve.

=

Steve goes back to replace the stones and rescue Bucky.

One More Night by whendoestheshipsail (E, 26K)

The relationship between Bucky Barnes and Steve Rogers has always been co-dependent, but it didn't go off the rails and straight into depravity until Bucky was about to be shipped out to war. When Steve decides to push Bucky's buttons the night before he leaves, Steve gets more than he ever expected. As the war goes on, their ability to find comfort in each other leads them both into a lust so primal and carnal Bucky worries it will destroy them both. After the Snap, Steve thought they'd find their way back to each other. Apparently not. Determined to find normalcy, Steve goes back to the past and very quickly realizes that he was never cut out for the apple pie, fall in line and just retire sort of life. Steve needs violence and some pain with his love...and somewhere in the 40's is a Winter Soldier who can give it to him.

Your Words are Mine by literato (T, 6K)

He can even picture him-- hunched over a notebook, probably one of Steve's sketchbooks, and writing furiously, endlessly while Steve snored beside him, completely stupid and unconscious. The deep strokes of the pen are almost signs of anger or frustration, but reading the letter, Steve can only feel the surreal amounts of love Bucky has for him.

or

when Steve goes back in time, he finds a letter written in Bucky's handwriting.

(an Avengers: Endgame Fix-It)

But One Man Loved by spooky_action (E, 20K)

Bucky had agreed. Of course he had. *Spoilers for Avengers: Endgame.*

Looking For A Place To Hide by whendoestheshipsail (E, 33K)

SPOILERS for Endgame Ahead!!! * * *

It's 2012 and all Steve knows is that another version of himself said Bucky is alive. Steve will do anything to get his friend back, even if it means time traveling to 2023. He expects Bucky to be happy to see him, but instead he's wary, hurt. Turns out his Steve had left him for Peggy. How? Why? Steve can't believe it. Now he'll have to find a way to make sense of it all, and convince Bucky that it's the two of them to the end of the line.

Because that shit happened yo and I'm just trying to make sense of an OOC and bonkers ending.

A Bend in the River by ilsontdesames (T, 11K)

Time meant everything and nothing at once. Some lucky ones got to have their do-overs, and others had to move on. And him, he’d been living outside of time for decades now. Waking up from the snap of Thanos’s fingers felt no different than all of the times he’d been thawed out, eyes opening to strange faces looking back, to a world that seemed to have gone on without him just fine. The world is better without the Winter Soldier. He knew this. Steve knew this.

The Long Way by writewithurheart (G, 7K)

It takes Steve Rogers awhile, but he gets there.

Or the missing scenes where he says goodbye, hello, and lives an entire life.

[alarriefantasy]

Insecure Louis? Like, REALLY insecure Louis. To the point he has given hope he will ever get love and Harry is in love with Louis since forever. Thank you! ILY! And your blog! 😘

THANK AND I LOVE YOU TOO! :) I tried my best on this one, but they may not all be exactly what you asked for! Definitely insecure Louis though! Let me know if you want more! :)

                                       Insecure Louis

Always running after you,like a lost dog. by ace23

Words: 4k

Harry is an alpha, meets omega Louis in a club.

Right away he feels a wild desire for him, and after he gets him is left wanting more.

Louis never stays though, and Harry is slowly but surely falling for him.

Just Another Ordinary Day by jacinth

Words: 4k

Omega Louis finds out his best friend (who he may or may not be in love with) Harry, an Alpha, might have found someone he wants to mate with. Jealous and tired of dealing with it all, he confronts Harry and demands to know who it is. The Alpha refuses to give a name but proceeds to describe the object of his affection.

Despite not wanting to hear about how much Harry wants this supposedly “perfect, witty, gorgeous, stubborn, most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, with a body that drives me mad” boy, Louis listens like the good friend he is.

Love Is a Kitten from Hell by youbeyou

Words: 8k

Louis Tomlinson passes himself off as an arrogant prick at his new school to hide the fact that he’s terrified of being bullied again. Just when he’s getting tired of putting up walls, he finds himself in a local pet shop where he finds a sanctuary playing with the kittens in the front window.

Harry Styles is the popular football player who works at the pet shop, secretly watching the boy he thought was utterly unlikable prove him wrong.

Partnered together for a class project, Harry gets more and more hints that Louis is actually someone worth getting to know. But the real question is, will Louis let Harry in?

I never thought through love we’d be (making one as lovely as she) by shitucute

Words: 8k

or, Louis’s main goal in life is to be knocked up with Harry’s kids and he doesn’t realize that Harry wants the same.

Every time that you get undressed (I hear symphonies in my head) by theboyfriendstagram

Words: 12k

OR an AU in which Harry is the typical frat boy who doesn’t believe in love but falls for the insecure mess that is Louis.

here’s to drinks in the dark by teacuplarrie

Words: 13k

Harry is an English teacher, Ed is the volleyball coach, and they only have eyes for their best student and star player, Louis.

Green Eyes, Empty Canvas by SexyAsswoMan

Words: 15k

His eyes were a weird shade of green. A shade that reminded you of a forest. a forest washed up in rain, glistening in the golden sun. Bright yet soft at the same time. And Louis wanted to get lost in them. Wanted to take it all out and splatter it on a canvas. Wanted to know every stroke of the man that stood in front of him.Too bad he was shit at forming words.

or where, Louis Tomlinson liked to paint and suddenly, all he could ever paint was Harry Styles.

The Love Hour by Snowy38

Words: 17k

“Shit. Hi. Hello. Fuck….”

“May I politely remind you that we are live on air, Tom. Please keep swearing to a minimum.”

“Oh. Oh yeah.”

“How can I help you, Tom?”

“I’m single.”

“Hmm…”

Shallow breaths can be heard, a scratchy noise born of fidgeting.

“That’s it, really,” the voice states, raspy and slightly high-pitched. Nervous.

Harry shuffles forward in his chair, crossing his feet underneath.

“It’s okay to be single,” he begins in his best soft voice, deep but attentive. Kind. “Maybe that’s not the real problem here, Tom.”

Or the fic where Harry is a love Guru and Louis needs relationship advice. Lots of it.

a lily perhaps by gglow

Words: 19k

OR the one where Louis works for Niall and somehow gets seduced by his friend Harry Styles. It wasn’t written in the stars or anything.

A Road To Something Better by taggiecb

Words: 25k

Louis Tomlinson, famous romance novelist, has just had the rug pulled out from under his feet when his boyfriend leaves him without notice. What's the most appropriate response to this? Move a thousand miles away and seclude himself in a tiny lake town, of course. But nothing is as he expects it to be in the very best way, especially not the handsome mayor of McAll, Idaho.

let me carry your weight by soldouthaz

Words: 28k

louis is fresh out of a bad relationship with someone who made him feel awful about how he looked. on his journey to better himself, he meets harry - the ridiculously attractive and fit personal trainer.

Short and Sweet by 5ft9

Words: 29k

Louis is a shy university student in a world scarce of male omegas. He's always dreamt of having an alpha despite his sheltered upbringing, fantasizing about being loved and cared for. He's immediately smitten by the mysterious alpha with curly hair, broad shoulders, and the addictive coffee scent.

like it's a game by soldouthaz

Words: 32k

there is little harry hates more than truth or dare.

and louis.

To Be Loved and To Be In Love by RealName

Words: 34k

First Dates AU. Louis Tomlinson is a thirty-year-old divorcee whose friends have signed him up for the Channel 4 show First Dates. Harry Styles is a twenty-eight-year-old lawyer who has never been in a long-term relationship. They are filmed going on their first date.

Big, Bright World by RealName

Words: 35k

It really was just a little crush in the beginning, nothing to be worried about. Louis had never really liked anyone he’d worked with in the past, but he was sure he could control himself. Little did he know that over time his ‘little crush’ would develop into a blazing inferno of Hell-fire proportions. Every day, Louis’ feelings became more intense, more immediate, each little smile and gesture and silly flirtation mounting up into something palpable, with a life of its own. Louis felt it every moment they were together.

The only problem? Harry was engaged to someone else and had been from the moment Louis started working at Visionary.

Office AU (not based on the TV show).

A Summer of Us by LouisandHarryandLove

Words: 47k

Louis couldn’t help that he was basically a bundle of nerves all the time. He had too many thoughts and too many worries, but too few friends to share them with.

So when Louis’ mom told him he could invite a friend to the beach house his family was renting for the summer, he couldn’t help but panic.But this year was different. This year he knew exactly who he wanted to invite, if he could just get up the nerve to ask the pretty curly haired boy who had been so nice to him for the past four months.

Little does Louis know, he’s in for one of the best and most transformative summers of his life

It’s Safer In The Dark by aace1234

Words: 79k

Louis has a major crush on Harry. Does Harry feel the same way? Will Harry find out about what Louis is going through at school?

Don't Let It (Me) Break by falsegoodnight

Words: 168k

Or the one where Harry is oblivious, Louis is broken, Zayn and Liam are in love, Gemma and Lottie are lovely, and Niall is just waiting for everyone to get their shit together.

And it's all Malcolm's fault

♡ updated 04.29.21

♡ credit to the owner of the manip

♡ past themed recs here

[theghostofashton]

“i care about you.”

this has legitimately been the hardest thing i've ever written. i started it in january, of 2018. it's now december 31st. it took me way too long to figure out and i honestly have no idea why but i finally managed to do it.

it's over 13k and very triggering for anxiety/panic attacks and eating disorders

someone on here requested i write a oneshot where awsten is suffering from an eating disorder while they're on tour, in geoff's POV. there are a couple scenes of awsten thrown in, just to add more depth, but it is 90% geoff. anon, i hope you enjoy this. thank you for requesting it. (and for that matter, if y'all ever have requests, message me here and send them in! i love writing them!)

welcome to the ‘ed fic’.

Awsten’s always loved sweaters.

He has so many of them. Vintage sweaters, a variety of colors and patterns, baggy and hanging off his body. There’s an entire bunk full of them on the bus. It’s meant for all of them but it basically belongs to Awsten and his never-ending sweater collection. He goes to vintage shops and puts down hundreds of dollars on more pieces, experiments with new designs and vibrant colors. They’re all unique and they’re all beautiful.

He wears a different sweater on stage every night and sweat drips down his face and soaks into the heat-trapping cotton but it clearly doesn’t bother him. At least, not enough for him to wear something cooler. He used to alternate between sweaters and tank tops but he’s stopped in the past couple months.

Geoff doesn’t remember the last time he saw Awsten in anything but a sweater.

He used to love wearing t-shirts; I wanna show off my hot new bod, Geoff! This dude’s got guns! and muscle tanks I’m a sweaty shithead and I want everyone to fuckin’ know it! But lately he’s been living in those huge sweaters that he drapes across his body and hides behind.

Awsten likes being cozy and loves to cuddle. He’s fairy lights and warm nights in and hot chocolate just as much as he is loud music and cutting fingers on guitar strings and angry diss tracks. He’s confidence and hard work and the embodiment of dedication. He gives so much, destroys himself and puts the pieces back together only to shatter them once again, all for his art.

And Geoff wishes he wouldn’t, wishes he would allow there to be a victor of the battle in his mind rather than constant relentless fighting. Some days Awsten is a zombie, moving through his day like it’s made of molasses, listening but not registering, experiencing but not feeling, a witness to his day instead of a participant in it. Sometimes the depression takes a hold over him like a bird crawling its way up his back, sinking its talons into his skin and holding on tightly.

Some days the pain is too much.

And those are the days he is solitary, silent and subdued, the days he wriggles further into the sheets, sinks back into the creases of his mind and further tangles himself up into a knot he may never unwind.

Those are the days he is a lump under the covers and a prisoner among the sheets, trapped inside his head, living in a world of dread; he has always been broken but those are the days the cracks start to shine through, the jagged edges make their reappearance, the long talons sink their way into his back and tear him apart all over again.

Those are the days Geoff hates the most, the days when he crawls into bed beside Awsten and takes him into his arms, brings him as close as he can, knows that warm touches and whispered words won’t take away from the war inside is head, but maybe, just maybe…

Maybe they’ll be the driving force, the invisible pair of hands that fit just under his arms and drag him back from the edge. Maybe they’ll be nothing and he’ll just ignore them, but maybe…maybe they’ll be the voice on the nights he’s thinking of making that desperate choice.

Maybe.

…

“Getting off at the next rest stop!”

Geoff opens his mouth to say something, but cuts himself off with a smile as Awsten groans and wiggles upward a few inches, pillows his head just in the middle of his lap. He brushes his hand back against Awsten’s hair and tangles some of the strands around his fingers. “Go back to sleep, love. I’ll wake you when we get there.” He tilts his head and ducks down to press his lips against Awsten’s forehead.

Awsten hums and turns his head to the side. His eyes slide shut and he lets out a little snuffle as his breathing starts to even out.

“I love you.” He mouths the words so soft they’re barely audible. Awsten probably couldn’t even hear them.

He didn’t intend for him to. Sometimes he’s not even supposed to. Sometimes those three words have a mind of their own, pull from his lips and release into the world at the most inopportune time – you said you loved me for the first time in the fucking chip aisle at Trader Joe’s, are you kidding me?

He couldn’t help it. He never can. There’s just something about Awsten, something about the way he moves and laughs and exists in the world. There’s something new, something special about his smile and his laugh and the way he wears his second heart on his sleeve, protects the gold-plated first one in his chest and opens the other to light and warmth and sunshine. There’s something about his smile on the worst days, when he is muddling and drifting through the foggy haze.

There’s something about him that’s different.

This tour has been particularly rough on him. Geoff knows that. He knows how hard it’s been to get out on stage, cut himself open and bleed from wounds she left, every night. He knows how hard it is for Awsten; to send his own fist into his chest and serve the wreckage on a silver platter, scrape the remains of his shattered heart into a neat little pile that they feast on nightly.

She broke him.

It’s been a while, well over a year, in fact. And the tears and 3 am phone calls and blood-red songs with jagged, broken endings, are starting to fade into the background. It’s been a hard year, albeit impossible at times, I can’t do this. I don’t wanna do it anymore. It hurts and it never stops and I just- I need it to stop. I need everything to stop.

He remembers that night, remembers moving impossibly closer to Awsten and pulling him as far into his chest as he could, curling up and around his body to keep him against him, knowing he’d never be able to protect him from the sharp claws in his mind but hoping the touch would be enough.

It will, sunshine, I promise. A year from now, you won’t feel like this anymore. You’ll be better and you’ll be happy and everything will be okay.

“Alright, everybody off!”

He waits for a few moments, runs another hand through Awsten’s hair and strokes a finger down his cheek, waits for him to wake on his own. He doesn’t want to rush him – Awsten and sleep are like oil and water. The mixture never combines, two poles apart, each side refusing to wind with the other. Sleep is a rare bird he doesn’t experience often, and Geoff knows from past arguments, do you fucking know how long it’s been since I’ve slept for more than two hours? Fuck you, Geoff. I can’t fuckin’ fall back asleep now.

But Awsten is snuffling and his eyes are fluttering underneath his eyelids. He isn’t past the gates and into the deep throes of sleep just yet. Fortunately.

“Hey…sunshine…” He shakes Awsten’s shoulder and presses another kiss against his skin. “We’re here. Wanna go get somethin’ ta eat?”

“Mmmphhh,” Awsten hums. “M’good.” He keeps his eyes closed, but scoots off Geoff’s lap and rests his head properly on the couch cushion. “You go.”

“Sure?”

“Yeah.” Awsten’s voice is heavy, soft and sleep-ridden. “M’gonna take a nap.”

“That’s what you said this morning, Aws.” Jawn speaks up before Geoff has the chance to answer. He looks over to the bus door. Jawn is standing with one foot out and the other in, but he brings both inside and turns toward the lounge area, frowns at Awsten and takes a couple steps inside. “You didn’t get off then either.”

Awsten blinks at him. “So? I wasn’t hungry then, and I’m not hungry now. What’s the big deal?”

“You, not eating.” Jawn joins them in the lounge and reaches down to rub Awsten’s shoulder. “M’worried about you, dude. This isn’t good.”

“What isn’t?” Awsten sits up and aligns his back with the wall. He keeps his gaze locked on Jawn, glares at him as he brings his knees to his chest. “I’m just not hungry today. Why’re you being such a dick about it?”

Jawn holds both hands up in surrender. “Just…come eat with us, okay? We’ve missed you, the past coupla weeks.”

“You see me every day,” Awsten deadpans. He rolls his eyes and crosses both arms over his chest. “So I’m not hungry one day. Stop acting like I’m some kinda criminal, jesus christ.”

“What about something small?” Geoff suggests. He reaches over to brush some hair away from Awsten’s forehead, but freezes midair when Awsten leans away.

“I’m fine,” Awsten repeats. “Seriously. Go eat.”

Geoff exchanges a glance with Jawn, and forces himself to swallow. His heart is pounding. Everything is happening so fast, like someone flicked a switch and sent his mind into overdrive, what’s going on what’s wrong with Awsten why is he being like this he’s never like this what’s going on what happened why is he like this why-

“Alright, love,” is all he can get out. He leans in and kisses Awsten’s cheek, before he stands and heads for the bus door. His heart is hammering in his chest and he can feel every beat, like someone ripped out the muscle and timed it in sync with his racing breaths. It’s going too fast. It’s all going too fast.

“Are you-”

“Fucking go, Jawn!” Awsten snaps. “Get the hell out and leave me the fuck alone.”

…

His hands are shaking.

His heart is racing and he can feel the blood rushing in his ears and his hands won’t stop fucking shaking.

He’s only seen Awsten like that a handful of times, the most recent being over six months ago, when the news broke that Equal Vision had fucked something up with their latest album. He doesn’t remember any time before then. There have definitely been some, but he’s tried to think about them less and less, let them float to the bottom of his mind and sink in, tunnel into the hollows of his chest and stay below the surface, never to be dragged up again.

He doesn’t want to think of Awsten like that. Awsten isn’t like that. He’s not a ticking time bomb, about to explode at any second. He’s collected and controlled and able, to handle thing most of the time. The things Geoff thinks will set him off, don’t.

He’s soft and warm and he smiles at the smallest things, sees a dog on his runs in the morning and comes back beaming, that made my fuckin’ day. No matter what shitty thing happens today, a dog was excited to see me. That’s all I care about. He turns his face to the world and grins and laughs and lets the mundane travesties roll off his back.

It’s okay, Geoff. Rumors are rumors. There’s a new angry person on Twitter every day, at this point. I can’t care about it too much or it’ll ruin me.

And he hasn’t been.

At least, from what Geoff’s seen.

There hasn’t been a change in fan interaction. He gets online and scrolls through Awsten’s twitter multiple times a week – doesn’t tweet from his own account because the amount of people and notifications and overall attention gets overwhelming very quickly – and there’s been no difference.

But the tour is different.

Warped Tour, is different.

He remembers when they were asked to play. It was before Europe, right after the album came out and they’d gotten back from Australia. Management called on a morning he’d slept over Awsten’s house – they weren’t together, not yet, but by February, the nights Awsten called him at 2am because he couldn’t sleep had increased and if he couldn’t do something about the reason why, he could go to his house and crawl into bed with him, at the very least – and asked them to consider it.

Awsten wasn’t on board at first. He wasn’t, either. 2016 was a shitstorm.

The roof leaked and the bus creaked and everything was so hot and cramped and cumbersome, all the time. They were tripping over each other and trying to avoid the strategically placed buckets, while still needing to get the adequate amount of sleep and perform every day, eat the shitty food and interact with bands he was sure talked shit about them behind their backs, spend the two and a half months in a state of overdrive that wouldn’t relax.

And then there was her and the shows she came to and the dates after, watching Awsten throw his arm around her shoulders and parade her around the venues. Laughter spilled out of his mouth and his eyes were constantly crinkled. His smile lines got so much more pronounced during that tour.

They’d get off stage and he’d barely towel off and change shirts before she was grabbing his hand and dragging him somewhere and some days it looked like he didn’t want to go but he did he did it for her he did everything for her he gave all of himself up for her he-

He destroyed himself for her and they’re still sifting through the carnage. Every piece is coming up tarnished and Geoff is still trying to figure out what parts of him she left whole, what parts of him she didn’t take and mark and toss out a ten story window after the news broke.

Awsten got tears in his eyes when he hung up the phone, turned and buried his face in Geoff’s chest and didn’t say anything for a very long while. Geoff remembers waiting for him to, giving him the chance to take some deep breaths and force himself out of the chaos, listening as his breathing started to slow down and his body stopped shaking.

I don’t wanna do it. But it’s the last tour and they really want us ta be on it and I just…I don’t know, Geoff. I want to but I don’t and it’s all happening too fast everything’s too much, I-

He pressed a finger to Awsten’s lips, here. Smiled and gripped tighter to his hand, breathe, Aws. It’s gonna be okay, I promise. Whatever you decide. Everything’s gonna be okay.

He remembers Awsten agreeing, talking it over with Otto and Jawn and eventually deciding that they should give the last ever Warped Tour its final hurrah. Awsten went quiet and refused to talk about it for a few weeks afterward, it’s done and booked and I just wanna forget about it for now, okay? I’ll think about it again when we havta arrange shit and start packing. I can’t do this right now.

He’d just signed on to a tour marking the two year anniversary of his failed relationship, a tour that went to all the same places and stopped in all the same cities, including the place they got together and the off days turned day dates, the memories turned miseries, replays turned dismays, she was everything until she wasn’t. He gave her all of him and she took every last limb. He had nothing left. He had nothing left. He had no-

“Geoff?”

“Huh?” He shakes his head to clear it, slows his pace and allows Otto to fall in line with him as they walk up to the rest area building. “Sorry, what’d you say?”

“Aws didn’t come?” Otto asks. “You couldn’t convince him?”

Geoff sighs. “He said he wasn’t hungry. Didn’t wanna push it. He wasn’t in a great mood.”

“He’s never in a great mood.” Jawn can be heard from behind. He slides in on Geoff’s other side and looks over at them. “Haven’t y’all noticed? He’s been so pissy lately.”

“Yeah, dude. He’s been snapping at me a ton.”

“I think he’s just tired,” Geoff says, in lieu of a proper explanation. Awsten hasn’t been an ass to him, but boyfriend and best friend aren’t synonymous and he could’ve been ignoring a lot of things in subconsciousness. “He hasn’t been sleeping well lately.”

“Hasn’t been eatin’ well either.”

“I don’t remember the last time he ate with us,” Otto mutters. He pulls open the door and holds it for Geoff and Jawn to walk through.

“I don’t remember the last time he ate at all.” Jawn says the next words, and Geoff stops.

He stops.

Everything stops.

…

I don’t remember the last time he ate at all.

I don’t remember the last time he ate at all.

I don’t remember the last time he-

Geoff’s been replaying the words in his head all week. It’s been about five days since Jawn said them, since he froze in his tracks in the middle of the rest stop, felt his heart break lose from its suspension in his chest and start to sink, slow at first, and then faster and faster and faster, until it was reduced to a pile of rubble at the pit of his stomach.

He’s been trying to go over the past few weeks too, rerun through all of it with a mental magnifying glass; did he come out to eat with us that day? Where’d we get breakfast? What’d he have? Wasn’t that the night he said he wasn’t gonna order anything and just steal off my plate because he wasn’t too hungry? Did he take anything off my plate at all?

There are too many possibilities and each sounds worse than the last. They all culminate the same, end in the exact same way with the exact same person disintegrating into a pile of rubble before his eyes, old Awsten be damned. There’s been a shift between old and new in the past few months and he can’t put his finger on when.

Awsten isn’t eating.

And it definitely isn’t the first time. This has happened before. It’s a side effect from tour, a manifestation of Awsten’s blatant discomfort with being on the road. He loves the shows but hates everything else, hates the cramped buses and the driving all night and waking up in a new place every morning, a new venue that’s surrounding food places culminate in a less tan desirable menu.

Eating healthy is one of Awsten’s top priorities, one of the parts of his routine he is so heavily attached to and stubborn about giving up. He’s the type of person who would rather not eat than eat something unhealthy. Geoff understands the sentiment. He does. He understands being hungry over feeling like shit for eating crap, but there’s a genuine issue if he’s just going to give up food entirely because none of it is healthy.

This is a necessary evil, if they want to keep touring. The band’s longevity depends on touring. He needs to let go a little bit, be okay with relaxing the reins, eat whatever’s available despite how much it pains him. He needs to eat. This isn’t healthy. He needs to eat.

He needs to eat.

Bringing this up to him is going to result in a massive fight and he’ll probably end up sleeping by himself in his bunk for the first time this entire tour, but he can’t drop it. He can’t let it go. Not something like this.

Awsten needs to eat.

…

“Aws? Hey, you in here?”

He kicked Jawn, Otto, and Lucas out of the bus so he and Awsten would have the space to themselves. Awsten isn’t going to react well to any of this. He doesn’t need an audience. Jawn worries too much and Lucas wants to know everything that’s going on and Otto feels the need to insert himself into everything. He tries to “help”, but it never actually manifests in a beneficial way. It’s all more trouble than it’s worth. They’re more trouble than they’re worth.

“Yeah.” Awsten pokes his head out of his bunk. “What’s up?”

“I sent everyone else away,” he says. “You and I got the bus ta ourselves for a bit.” He sets his bag down on the couch and moves into the bunk area, crouches and kneels on the floor to meet Awsten’s lips in a kiss.

“Mmm,” Awsten hums. He brings one arm out and winds it around Geoff’s neck. “Haven’t seen you all day. ‘ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too, sunshine.” He straightens and pulls back the curtain with his free hand, scoots onto the edge of Awsten’s bunk and turns to continue kissing him properly. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Awsten whispers. They press their foreheads together and he exhales, stares into Awsten’s eyes and feels his chest start to loosen. If only they could stay here. If only the rest of the day could be spent like this. If only he didn’t have to shatter it. They’re building such a delicate foundation and feeling it swirl and envelop around them, and he’s about to send it all to flames with a single sentence.

He shouldn’t.

But he has to.

“Hey…I wanted to talk to you about something…” He trails off, moves his hand down to Awsten’s cheek and smoothes his fingers against Awsten’s face. He cups his chin and leans in to kiss him once more. “And I just want you ta know that I love you, okay? I’m doing this because I love you and I want you to be okay and-”

“Geoff…” Awsten says it slowly, takes a couple moments to get his name out and doesn’t move his gaze from Geoff’s eyes. “Are you breaking up with me?”

“What?” His heart seems to stop in his chest. He feels it, feels the beat skip and the breath pull, like someone reached in and grabbed every trace of oxygen. It was there and now it’s not, flip the switch, draw he curtain, gone, gone, gone. “Why would I- I don’t- that’s not even- Aws, I would never.” He reaches forward and grabs both of Awsten’s wrists, tugs him forward and moves his hands to his shoulders once he’s sure he’s got Awsten’s full attention. “I would never, okay? I love you too much.”

“What’s this about, then?” Awsten blazes over the sentiment. He doesn’t echo it. Geoff’s heart is beating faster. This is not how he imagined this going this is not how he imagined this going this is not fucking-

“I just-” He pauses and shakes his head, takes Awsten’s hands again and squeezes them tightly. “Remember what happened a couple weeks ago? At the rest area?”

Awsten is silent for a few seconds, thinking it over. He doesn’t pull his hands away. Geoff focuses on that, stares down at their intertwined fingers and tries to remember, breathe. Breathe. Breathe. “What are you- oh, Geoff…” Awsten rolls his eyes. “That, again? I told you. I just wasn’t hungry that day, okay? It’s not a big deal. You didn’t havta freak yourself out over it.”

“I know you, Awsten,” he says quietly. He strokes his thumb against Awsten’s palm and swallows against the lump in his throat. His mouth is so dry. The saliva feels like one ball of ache being launched at the barrier of his esophagus, tearing through, penetrating as painful as possible. “We go on tour and you don’t wanna eat fast food, so you just…don’t eat. And I get it, I know the shitty food sucks and it makes you feel all gross or whatever, but you just-” He drops his head. Tears are burning at the corners of his eyes. His voice keeps breaking. “You gotta eat, sunshine. You gotta eat. You can’t starve yourself like this.”

If Awsten says something immediately after, he doesn’t hear it. A tear rolls down his cheek. He squeezes his eyes shut, hard enough to see the colored blobs of ink spurting themselves across the dark colored page. This is bad this is so bad this is not what was supposed to happen fuckfuckfuck-

“Geoff? Hey, look at me.” A hand slips underneath his chin and Awsten pulls his head up. “Oh god, don’t cry…”

He blinks. Awsten reaches in and thumbs tears off his cheek, first strokes for that and then keeps rubbing his fingers against Geoff’s cheekbone. Geoff swallows, feels the salt on his lips as tears go down.

“You don’t have to worry about me, okay?” Awsten leans in and pecks the corner of his mouth. “I promise, I’m okay. I think it’s just stress, y’know? Killing my appetite or whatever. I’m not starving myself. Really, I’m not. That was a bad day. I snapped at Jawn ‘cause the world was pissing me off and I needed someone to yell at. The food sucks and I hate it but I know I don’t have a choice. Okay? Please don’t do this ta yourself anymore. You don’t havta worry about me.”

“I’ll always worry about you.” The words are thick and clumsy around his tongue, heavy as they leave his lips. He reaches forward and grabs Awsten into a hug, winds his arms around the younger boy’s waist and pulls him as close to his chest as he can get. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

…

His throat burns.

He doesn’t do this very often, but every time he has, it’s felt like a thousand hot knives pressing down and stabbing into his throat, forcing them through the muscle until all that’s left is a corpse. It stings and it burns and everything feels like it’s about to end at that moment, like his entire life has culminated to a halt right here and the next few seconds could (quite literally) kill him.

It feels like he’s dying and he doesn’t know why. Too many people do this on a daily basis for it to feel like death for someone who’s a mere novice. He’s dying he’s about to die it’s all over this is it this is how it ends he’s shaking on a bathroom floor and he’s going to die he’s shaking on a bathroom floor and he’s going to die he’s shaking on a bathroom floor-

He didn’t have a choice.

Geoff is onto him and he’s watching him like a hawk and starting to figure things out and that can’t happen he had no choice that can’t happen he had no choice that can’t happen he had no choice-

He had to eat tonight.

He had to sit with them and order something from Kentucky fucking Fried Chicken – because it was the only thing that was open – and force the greasy, fried, nasty chicken wings down his throat. He had to consume the calories and accumulate the fat and keep it where it was, sit and talk and force out laughs every so often, become a presence amongst his unwavering stream of existence.

Geoff was looking at him like he’s on trial. He couldn’t risk it. He couldn’t risk anything. He couldn’t risk staying quiet and blending into the background, only nodding when he’s prompted and pretending the meal hasn’t daunted him the entire time. He couldn’t risk the lies, winning the prize for best actor, adding up how many calories he’s eaten this week trying to factor in the possibility of adding dinner to that.

He shoves his fingers back down into his throat, forces them past their barrier, past where his eyes start to go teary and his body protests against him, you’re not supposed to do this. You’re not supposed to make yourself throw up. Stop doing it. Stop. Stop it. He goes farther, presses harder, digs deeper, until the wave of pain finally comes and the bile joins it, surging up his throat and piling against the toilet water with a loud plop.

Tears are running down his cheeks. His chest is heaving. His breath is coming in pants and he can’t slow it. Nothing will slow down. It’s moving way too fast. He inhales and holds it for barely a second before it’s gone, pulling another piece of his chest and bounding away with it.

He can’t do this.

He can’t.

It’s all too hard and it hurts too much and new pieces of him get taken away every day. He’s in pain all the time and when he isn’t it feels wrong because he should be because he deserves to be because people who look like this don’t get a break people who look like this don’t get to have cheat days people like this don’t get to feel pretty.

People like you don’t get to feel pretty.

He’s not pretty.

He’s not pretty and nothing is perfect and it’s all pulling at him. He’s pleading and praying and barely managing to push himself over the barrier as one day bleeds into the next. The hunger pangs at him, pulls at his stomach and twists it into a permanent knot, I don’t want to do this anymore but I can’t stop and I don’t know what to do-

It traps you.

You think it won’t. You think you’ll be able to handle it, read the stories of people who couldn’t and reassure yourself, I’ll never get that bad. It’ll never happen to me. I just wanna lose a few pounds. I know what I’m doing. I have it under control. Just a few pounds, and it’ll all be over. It’ll all be over. I know what I’m doing.

I know what I’m doing.

And he did, in the beginning.

He had it under control. Portioning one meal a day. Skipping lunch and not thinking too much of it. Giving up white mochas entirely and making the permanent switch to those Americanos he still fucking hates.

He was tracking his calories in a journal and he had no idea it would become eternal, had no idea that book would become his life source and missing a day of writing everything down would feel like brute force, like someone was stabbing into his flesh and ripping pieces out and taking large chunks of him when they left.

You’re too fat not to be doing this did you really think you could get away with taking a break for one day you don’t get breaks people like you don’t get breaks you look like shit why don’t you care fat ass stupid fucking pig can’t even go a day without stuffing his face people like you don’t get to take breaks people like you don’t get to take breaks people like you don’t get to take breaks-

He swallows, feels the saliva drip thickly into his throat and slide down, sit in the pit of his stomach and stretch its roots all the way over to flip the switch of nausea. His head is spinning. The ache behind his eyes is stretching. Everything hurts and it won’t stop everything hurts and it won’t stop everything hurts and it won’t fucking stop-

He shoves his fingers down his throat again.

People like you don’t get to take breaks-

…

“C-Can I sleep with you tonight?”

Awsten is shivering in front of him. The large sweatshirt he’s wearing stretches halfway down his thighs and the sleeves go way past his hands. He’s brought one hand to his mouth and he’s still shaking, almost vibrating in his spot from the force of how genuinely cold he is.

“Of course, love, hey, you’re freezing…” He closes his book and opens his arms, collects Awsten against his chest and feels him start to burrow, press cheek to chest and wrap his arms tight around his waist. “Whoa, why are you so cold?”

“D-Don’t k-know,” Awsten stutters. His teeth are chattering loudly. “Just c-cold…”

“Alright, alright, shh…” He shifts Awsten against his chin and tucks his chin above Awsten’s head. “You’re okay, you’re okay, I’m here.”

It’s barely 9, but they’ve had quite a few early mornings in the past couple of weeks. Tons of driving and traffic on the freeway that manifested itself in honking all the way past midnight, who’s that fucking pissy at 12:44 am? I just wanna sleep, for fuck’s sakes.

Awsten doesn’t sleep. He’s never been good at it. It’s like he lives in a world where sleep is a rare bird he can’t quite find. He goes out every day, book open and binoculars out, spends hours searching, grasps at every straw he can find, and still comes back with nothing. He always comes back with nothing. The sightings are few and far between; his precious sleep is determined to be hidden, unseen for days, leaving him drowning in a blurry haze and envelops and surrounds and makes everything foggy.

So when he does find it, when he grabs the carrot and eats it before it can be pulled away, takes hold of the cloud before it delves back into the forays beyond, grabs it and wrestles it into submission, lets himself pillow down and drift out until his vision finally calms for the night.

And that’s why, when Awsten’s breathing deepens and his head falls, Geoff doesn’t move. He doesn’t breathe. He doesn’t shift to change position, no matter how much it hurts to stretch his arm up and around Awsten, coming in contact with the top of the bunk and resting in such a manner that it’ll definitely fall asleep and give him hell soon.

Awsten’s sleeping.

Finally.

All Geoff can do is tighten his grip and press his lips to the boy’s hair, curl as close as he can without disturbing him. This is warm and it is safe and it feels like forever, like the Sun could explode and life could end at this very moment and he’d die happy. Awsten’s existence is warm and the small smile on his face is bright and he feels infinite. Certain.

Everything else exists in a series of unknowns, and drapes itself in uncertainty, but his love for this boy will never waver.

Awsten snuffles and coughs in his sleep. His body shakes in Geoff’s arms, shifts so Geoff’s hand falls into the junction between his neck and shoulder. His fingers graze across Awsten’s collarbone, and he stops.

Everything stops.

It feels like someone hit a pause button on the world, like time has just decided to halt for the time being. Nothing is moving. The world is happening but nothing is moving.

He can feel Awsten’s entire collarbone.

And that’s not necessarily the scary thing; he’s always been able to feel at least part of that bone…but never as much as he can right now. He’s never been able to trace the junction so easily, feel exactly where the bone is and how it presses sharply against his chest like the rest of Awsten’s body.

There’s no fat underneath, purely muscle and the damn bone. He’s lost everything else.

Geoff’s heart is racing as he moves his hands down the rest of Awsten’s body. He snakes his fingers inside Awsten’s sweatshirt and traces down, feels the pit in his stomach drop lower and lower as he goes over bone. More bone. There’s no fucking fat on him. It’s all bone. He’s lost everything. It’s all bone.

It’s all bone.

He has to stop when he gets to his hips. He has to stop at Awsten’s hip bone, let his hand go limp and bite his lip, squeeze his eyes shut and force the pinprick of tears back in because he can feel the entire thing more prominently than any other. It sticks out so sharply that it can’t be missed, that wearing a tight pair of skinny jeans or just keeping his boxers on would display it. He doesn’t even need to be completely nude.

Fuck.

He swallows and pulls Awsten impossibly closer, wraps his arms even tighter around his fragile body.

“I love you so much, sunshine. We’ll fix this, I promise.”

…

“Are you serious?”

“I’ve seen him naked,” Geoff mutters. “Well, not naked, naked. He was wearing this huge sweatshirt, but I could feel every single fucking bone through it.”

Jawn nods and blows out a heavy breath, drops his head down between his knees and stays like that for a few moments. “I just- I figured something was wrong, but I never…I never even thought about it being…this.” He’s biting his lip and trying to keep his voice steady. It keeps breaking. His words are wavering.

“He’s been off all tour,” Geoff continues. He rests his head against the wall and closes his eyes. “I knew something was going on, I just- we’ve only been together like, three months. I didn’t wanna jump ta anything and piss him off, but maybe I should’ve, fuck, I just…”

“Don’t do that.” Jawn lifts his head to meet his eyes. “Blaming yourself isn’t gonna help him.”

“He isn’t eating and I don’t know why.” Geoff hears the words, hears himself say them, but they still don’t feel real. Everything’s detached, disengaged, distant. He’s existing in a separate reality and trying too hard to cling to the fantasy, grab for scraps of the universe that don’t end in tragedy, where Awsten is okay and he isn’t doing this and the world doesn’t feel tipped on its side, where every puzzle piece is where it belongs and his deep and dark and depressing only bleed out in songs, where he’s not wearing his damage on his body and everything is okay.

Where everything is okay-

“-hates himself for it. We never get good shit on tour and it fucks with him,” Jawn is saying. “I guess- I didn’t know it was this bad.”

“I asked him about it.” Geoff rubs a hand over his face and moves to rake it through his hair. “I asked if he was doing that, if he was fuckin’ eating, and he said he was. He lied.”

“He doesn’t talk about anything.” Jawn flops his head back against the wall and closes his eyes. “It’s not personal. He doesn’t talk ta me either. It makes him panic. He likes his shit ta stay boxed up for him ta deal with on his own, but he sucks at that too, so it’s just- fuckin’, it’s a lose-lose for everyone.”

Jawn is so used to defending Awsten that it isn’t even a conscious effort anymore. Geoff has to smile at that, at genuinely how overprotective Awsten’s best friend is of him. He won’t let anyone say something even the slightest bit negative, not without challenging them on it and starting a fire where every flame has already been put out. He’ll pour the gasoline and not give a shit.

Awsten needs it.

There are times when his defenses fail, when they’re too exhausted to stand up once more, when the world has taken too much and all the meat has been picked from his carcass, nothing I ever do is right and I’m so tired. I could find the cure for fucking cancer and someone would find some reason to call me out on it. It’s too much and I can’t do it anymore.

And that’s where Jawn comes in, slides between Awsten and the world with his sword raised, insult my best friend again. Do it. I fucking dare you. Jawn is sometimes even too overprotective – Geoff remembers when he first joined the band, unsure of why this guy wouldn’t stop fucking staring at him, why he acted like Awsten had hung the fucking moon and getting to be friends with him was a privilege he’d been awarded far too soon – but the world deserves it.

Awsten deserves it.

“I just…” He glances over at the bunk area. Awsten is still sleeping. He slipped out a while ago, bunched cushions against his body and transferred his head onto the pillow, I have to get out of here I have to go I can’t do this I can’t sit here and hold his fucking skeleton like this isn’t happening I- “I don’t know what to do. I love him so much, Jawn, I don’t- I fucking-”

“Geoff. Geoff, breathe.” Jawn leans forward and places his hands on his shoulders. “Dude, hey, calm down. Everything’s gonna be okay, I promise.”

“You can’t promise that.” He drops his head to his lap and bites his lip. “He’s fucking starving himself, Jawn! Anorexia is fucking fatal!”

“Deep breaths,” Jawn repeats. “You are not helping him by panicking.”

“I’m not helping him at all,” Geoff chokes out. “I’ve been sitting on my ass and watching him get worse and not fucking doing anything because I didn’t wanna overstep and piss him off. I didn’t want him to break up with me but now he might actually fucking die on me and I-”

“He’s not gonna die. Look at me, hey.” Jawn says the words slower, grips his shoulders and forces his head back up. “Listen. We got him, okay? We know what he’s doing and we know how bad it is; we’re gonna help him. Or get him help. Whatever he needs ta get better. We’re gonna do it. And he’s gonna be okay, alright?”

He doesn’t say anything, focuses his attention on the heart that’s starting to slow; the hunk of flesh in his chest that feels like it’s been broken in two. It feels like someone’s taken a hammer to it, like every piece that was once whole and could at some point stand on its own is now shattered into a thousand smithereens that press their jagged edges into his chest cavity and bleed.

It’s bleeding.

Everything’s bleeding.

…

He doesn’t know how to do this.

He’s been tiptoeing around the subject for days, starting to talk about it and then reigning himself because what if Awsten isn’t ready what if he gets mad at me what if I push him away even further I don’t know how to do this I don’t want to make it worse what this makes it worse I don’t want to make it worse I-

They agreed that he’d be the one to do this, over Jawn. Aws’ already blown up at me once over this; if I go ta him with it again he might actually murder me. You’re saying shit ‘cause you love him; I’m just the best friend who thinks his new “diet” is fucked up. Obviously not the case, but I know that’s what he’s gonna think.

Jawn knows much better how to approach this, probably wouldn’t feel like his entire chest was folding over at the thought, has been through this with Awsten before and definitely wouldn’t have this visceral of a reaction to the new territory he was about to explore.

Jawn made up an excuse about sightseeing and herded Otto and Lucas off the bus, texted Geoff almost an hour later that the place he’d taken them was almost three miles away and even if they did start walking back at that moment, it’d be at least forty five minutes before they got back.

He needs to do this now.

Awsten is in the lounge; he can hear him noodling around on his guitar, pausing every so often to write something in a notebook splayed across his thighs.

He’s probably working on a new song now isn’t the best time what if-

No.

This has to happen now.

He climbs out of his own bunk and makes his way over to the lounge area. His heart is pounding too fast, pumping doses of panic into his veins that make everything go sort of fuzzy at the edges. The world is a cotton ball that’s been fluffed out too far and everything is moving.

“Aws? H-hey, you working on a new song?” He forces his voice to stay steady, bites his lip when it wavers and closes his eyes briefly. Breathe. You cannot panic. This needs to happen now. Breathe.

“Nah, just messing around.” Awsten smiles at him and holds one arm out. He bends and tilts his head for the kiss, breathes out against Awsten’s lips and lets him wrap an arm around his neck. “Why? What’s up?”

“Just wanted ta talk ta you ‘bout something,” he stammers.

Last time went so well because Awsten was lying to him. He knows that. He knows this is going to be different. He knows this could potentially ruin them. He knows he could be ending their relationship today, and maybe this is the worst idea he’s ever had there’s probably nothing going on it’s all in your head he’s fine don’t do this don’t fuck up the best relationship you’ve ever had- but something feels off.

The world feels off kilter, now. Every time he looks at Awsten, he feels it. He sees bones he didn’t see before and a skeleton that may not make it out the door. Every morning, when Awsten pushes against his chest and slides out of the bunk, stretches and makes his way to the bathroom to shower, Geoff stops.

because what if he falls what if he faints what if his body decides that this is the day and it can’t take anymore and finally fucking gives out on him what if he leaves the bus and falls down somewhere and no one’s around to catch him what if no one catches him what if this kills him what if today’s the day what if-

what if this kills him-

“What’s goin’ on?” Awsten asks. He reaches for his notebook and plucks another string on the guitar. “Shit, should be a C chord.”

While he’s rushing to grab his pencil and fix it, Geoff speaks.

“I know what you’ve been doing.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Awsten’s voice is steely calm. It’s low, soft almost, and he still won’t look up. He draws his shoulders into his body and keeps his gaze trained on his lap.

Geoff’s hands are shaking. His heart is racing too fast too fast too fucking fast everything’s going too fast can’t move can’t speak can’t breathe fuckfuckfuck-

Calm down.

You need to calm down.

Calm the fuck down.

He forces in an inhale that feels as ragged as it sounds, cuts through his throat messily and severs the ties on some of the strings holding his heart up in his chest. They’re about to snap. It’s about to fall. Everything’s about to fall. His world is disintegrating underneath him and he may just be speeding up the process.

“It’s okay, Aws,” he tries. He reaches out to put a hand on Awsten’s shoulder and feels the dose of panic, feels the injection of insecurity wash over his body, knock it over with the sheer force of the wave. “We’ll help you. All of us, we love you so much, and we’re gonna help. You’ll be okay.”

Awsten pulls away, twists his torso and turns his face to the side, wrinkles his forehead even more at the words. “What the hell are you even talking about, Geoff? I’m fine. Everything’s fine. Just been stressed, y’know, like I always get on tour.”

Geoff shakes his head and sits down on the couch, pats the area next to him and opens his arms. “It’s more than that, sunshine. It’s serious, and I know you don’t think it’s a problem, but it is.”

“What is?” Awsten snaps. “What the hell are you so fucking “concerned”-” he pauses to make the air quotes. His cheeks are starting to pink up and his eyes are wild. “About? I’m fucking fine, okay? This tour’s been hard. I’ll be glad when it’s over. I’m in a shit place but that’s nothing new and nothing you gotta worry about. What the hell else is there?”

His fists are clenched and he’s glaring at Geoff, hair mussed and face fully red. His chest is heaving and he’s starting to breathe even worse.

Awsten’s always been stubborn. Geoff knows that. He knows his boy, knows that he would rather die than crack himself open in conversation. He bleeds so much into lyrics, rips open every healing would before it’s even had a chance to scar over, forces his way into scar tissue and deepens those cuts too; it hurts but that can’t just be it. That can’t be all. The pain has to have a purpose.

The pain has to have a purpose.

He didn’t understand it, at first. He remembers when Awsten told him about it in the beginning, when they’d just gotten home from a recording session and Awsten could barely breathe beneath the weight of it all, when he had the panic attack and felt the world shift on his shoulders, it’s hard and everything hurts and I hate it. I hate it so much.

So why the hell do you do this? It’s bad enough that you’ve had to live it, why are you writing about it and singing about it and putting yourself through it all over again?

And he remembers Awsten panting, one hand on his chest, trying to get his breath back; it can’t be for nothing, Geoff. It’s gotta have a purpose. All the hurt and pain and whatever else. It’s gotta have a purpose. It can’t be for nothing.

He knows Awsten likes to deal with things on his own, stitches himself back together and does so in the quiet of his blue tomb, piles his weaknesses together and shoves them back into the depths of his chest for next time; if I don’t talk about it they can’t hurt me and I can’t be hurt again. I can’t do it anymore.

But this is far too big and far too heavy and far too much, for Awsten to handle on his own. It’s far too much.

He doesn’t deal in the best ways – he never has – and it always comes back to bite him the ass and chip off another tiny piece of him and the pile of pieces is getting bigger and bigger he’s falling apart further and further and Geoff knows it’ll be bad he knows where this is going he knows what Awsten is going to do to himself he fucking knows that if he doesn’t nip this in the bud right now, it’s all going to snowball and cyclone and turn into potentially the biggest mess they’ve ever had to deal with.

Awsten is a ticking time bomb and he’s sure it’ll explode before too long.

“You know what I’m talking about, love.” His voice wavers. He’s trying to keep it steady, but he’s so close to crying; it might not work. “Don’t make me say it. You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

“I don’t, actually,” Awsten mutters. He puts a hand on his hip and rolls his eyes. “What the hell are you talking about? Why’re you acting like you’re some sorta fuckin’ savior and I fuckin’ need you, or whatever? It’s bullshit. This whole fuckin’ thing is bullshit.”

“I just wanna help, okay?” Geoff snaps. “I don’t want my fucking boyfriend to die on me!”

Awsten stops.

Geoff watches him freeze in his tracks, halfway toward the table, still reaching for his pencil. He isn’t moving. He isn’t looking up. Geoff swallows, feels the saliva travel stickily down his esophagus and sit at the base of his stomach, stretching toward the switch of nausea with long, thin talons. Pleasepleasepleasefuckfuckfuckfuckfuck-

“Fuck,” Geoff swears. He shakes his head and stretches his arm toward Awsten. “Look, I didn’t mean to yell at you like that, I’m sorry, I just- I’m so worried about you, sunshine. You’re not okay and I hate seeing you like this. I wanna help. Please, would you just let me?”

Awsten wrenches his arm away. “You’re not fucking helping! All you’re doing is making up shit! Nothing is fucking wrong!”

“Me?” Geoff shoots back. “I’m making up shit? I’m not the one fucking starving myself!”

He just misses a glimpse of Awsten’s face, as he turns and runs for the door.

“Trouble in paradise?”

The world shifts.

And he feels that, feels everything start to change and move ninety degrees; the world is turning but he hasn’t quite caught up. He can’t. It’s going too fast and happening all at once and he can’t ride the wave.

Jawn intercepts Awsten, puts both hands on his shoulders and moves them down to his biceps, holds him in place while Awsten swears and screams at him. “Fuck you so fucking hard, Jawn. Let me fucking go!”

“What the fuck is going on here?” Lucas demands. “Are y’all really fighting right now?”

He exchanges a glance with Jawn and moves his gaze to Awsten, pulls his lip in with his teeth and tries to take some deep breaths, slow your fucking heart down, you idiot. You’re fine. Breathe.

“It’s fine,” he forces out. “Everything’s fine.”

…

Everything is not fine.

The bus door slams shut and they can see Awsten run through the window, watch him disappear behind the bus and off into the woods stretching the rest of the way.

“You had one fucking job.” He bites the words and lifts his head up to glare at Jawn. “Keep him here. All you had ta do. Not let him run. Was that really so fucking hard?”

“Who made him wanna bolt in the fuckin’ first place?” Jawn shoots back. “If I wanted him ta run I would’ve talked ta him myself.”

“You know how fucking stubborn he is. Don’t tell me you didn’t see this coming.” He’s getting hot again, waves of sweat breaking out all along the length of his back. He swallows against the lump in his throat and plows out, forces his tears to stay in. “This is not my fault.”

“Well it sure as hell isn’t mine.”

“Both of you, shut the fuck up.” Lucas’ voice is hard. He fixes them with a glare that sweeps across the entire space. “This isn’t helping anyone. We gotta find him and get him back.”

“He’s fine.” Otto’s voice is quiet. “He just texted me. He found a park. He needs some time to breathe. If you go after him he’ll freak even more and you’ll make this worse.”

Geoff exhales.

His heart feels like it’s been smashed, like it’s a barrier that’s now bleeding, gushing from the cracks and filling his chest cavity. It hurts. All of it hurts. Awsten hurts and he hurts and everything might’ve just been ruined in one foul swoop. Everything might’ve just gone to shit he might’ve just lost the best thing that’s ever happened he might’ve just lost everything for good it’s a mess it’s all a mess he just-

“Would either of you like to tell me what the hell this was all about?”

Lucas takes a seat at the tiny table they have and rests his elbows on the surface, turns his gaze to Geoff. Geoff sighs, exhales heavily as his heart starts to slow back to normal and everything settles back into calm.

He exchanges a glance with Jawn and takes another heavy breath. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I…I’m so worried about him. I just- he doesn’t see it, at all. He doesn’t think there’s a problem. He kept saying he’s fine but I know he isn’t and I’ve been watching him fucking waste away right in front of me and it’s just…”

“I know.” Jawn steps over to him and presses a hand against his back. “I know. I get it. I’m sorry too. It’s not your fault he ran. He woulda done that no matter who confronted him.”

“He’s…not eating.” He looks up and addresses Lucas, feels Jawn slide their fingers together and squeeze his hand as he talks. “We don’t know why. He never comes out with us and doesn’t eat after shows, and I- I’ve heard him throwing up before. Like, after we’ve all gone out. I don’t know what’s going on with him or why he’s doing this but something’s wrong and I just- I’m scared. I’m so scared.”

“Geoff-”

“He’s starving himself and he could die and I don’t know what to do or how to help I just-” He pauses to take in another breath that barely quenches his thirst. Everything hurts too much. “I’m so fucking scared.”

…

He doesn’t know what to do.

He doesn’t know where to go from here.

It’s a reality he never thought he’d be a witness to; he’d do a better job of hiding until his untimely demise, keep it a secret until he could no longer, until he was no longer, until everything that was once him faded away and the remnants were nothing but a distant memory.

They were never supposed to find out.

This is his secret and it was supposed to stay his secret but it isn’t his secret anymore they know they know everything and now they’re gonna be all over him and he won’t be able to breathe he isn’t ever able to breathe he won’t be able to breathe they won’t let him breathe he can’t-

And he wants it.

He wants to shove his fingers down his throat and dredge deep, hit his gag reflex and go further, until he’s tearing his stomach lining and spitting blood into the toilet, deeper than he ever has and hurting way more than the last. He wants to hurt and he wants to cry and he wants to fling his useless body off a cliff and hope he dies, because living is a lie he can’t seem to “try” any longer.

Geoff doesn’t know what he’s talking about.

It’s not an eating disorder.

Those are for skinny people, the people whose knees knock together from how knobby they are, who have legs that look like they’re about to snap, who go about their days as if they aren’t seconds away from a heart attack. They’re the people you can’t look at, have to turn away and avert your eyes, because seeing the extent of the damage they’ve done to themselves is worse than the thought of confronting them about it. They’re dead inside and trying to match it with their body, pinching and forcing and restricting, until it all culminates, unsure of which morning will bring their untimely death date.

That’s not him.

That’s never been him.

You’re too big for that too fat for that too fucking huge to even be considered that he’s just trying to get rid of you-

Geoff doesn’t want to be with you anymore. He’s using this as a reason to break up with you. You’re finally too big for him and it shows. Too big for him and too big for the fans and too big for the fucking world you useless piece of shit. They’ve had enough they’re done with it they’re done with you and all the caveats you come with it’s too much it’s all too much it’s too fucking much and they’re done with it it’s too fucking much and they’re done it’s too fucking much-

He gasps out the breath and presses a hand to his chest, squeezes his eyes shut against the burn of tears and tries to will his heart back to calm. It’s determined to run, determined to sprint the rest of the marathon while he huffs and puffs and tries to carry on, tries to shift underneath the weight on his back, resist against its numerous attempts to drag him down.

It’s a diet.

It’s a diet and it’s a workout plan and it’s because he can’t keep being this way. It’s because the flabs of extra skin are too much, because he can’t stand in front of the mirror for one more day and pinch a his stomach, pull the skin between his fingers and jiggle his fat around until he can’t see through the tears, because the thought of losing Otto and Jawn and Geoff and everyone else who loves him is outweighed by the fear of being like this for the rest of his life.

You’re too fucking big.

He’s gonna break up with you you’re too fucking big he’s gonna break up with you you’re too fucking big he’s gonna break up with you you’re too fucking big he’s gonna break up with you-

Too fucking big.

…

“We’ll talk this out tonight, alright?”

Lucas rests a hand on his back and uses the other to hand him his guitar. “Nothing’s gonna be figured out in a day. Let’s just get this show over with, and we’ll talk everything out tomorrow. Y’all have a day off, anyway. We’ll sit Awsten down and get to the bottom of this and it’ll all be okay, Geoff, I promise.”

He swallows.

Lucas can’t promise that. No one can promise that. No one can promise he hasn’t rocked the boat and shattered the glass and broken the delicate ice their relationship was teetering on.

No matter what happens next, Awsten is going to break up with him. And yeah, it was for his own good and he’ll be so much better off single and pissed off than he would be smitten and dead, but the ache in Geoff’s chest has yet to be put to rest. His heart was shattered before and now it feels like everything is being raked over hot coals, like someone saw the pieces and decided that wasn’t enough and is now torching them, just for good measure.

You did the right thing.

You did the right thing.

You did the right fucking thing.

And he wants to believe it. He wants to believe that he was right and good and Awsten will finally get help for the body that no longer fills out any of his shirts. He wants to believe that good will come of this, that Awsten will accept the assistance he so desperately needs, stop faking and priding and just agree…he wants to believe this was for the best, that he didn’t just ruin the best thing that’s ever happened to him over an uninformed assumption.

It isn’t uninformed. The rational part of him knows that. He knows that Awsten has a problem, knows that the looser shirts and skinnier arms and bony ribs are indicatory of more than just a fad diet to stay healthy on tour, he’s not eating. He’s starving himself and going for runs all the time he works out too much he doesn’t come out with us to eat anymore this is a problem it’s a problem he has a problem-

The rational part of him knows this is a problem, but irrationality is a silent ghost that sneaks up on him when he fears it the most. Its long tendrils wrap around his arms and sink into his skin, breathe out and whisper from within, what if it’s all in your head what if you’re seeing things that aren’t there what if he’s fine and you just ambushed him with all this shit that isn’t even true liar you’re such a liar you just fucked up your relationship you fucked up the best thing you’ve ever had you fucked up you fucked up you fucked up-

You fucked up.

…

Something’s different.

Of course it is; he wasn’t naïve enough to have witnessed the last three hours and still expect everything to go on as normal. He wasn’t naïve enough to expect Awsten to come back, tears still drying on his cheeks, ready to re-absorb himself into a reality that reeked of repression. He wasn’t naïve to expect that anything would be the same after what happened, that it would be a fight they could shove under a rug, move a painting over the hole it put in the wall, try to ignore the elephant that has just stomped into their room.

He isn’t naïve enough to believe that everything is going to go back to the way it was, anytime soon. He knows better than that.

But something is still so fucking different. And he can’t put his finger on what.

The chords come easy. They always have. He remembers when he and Awsten first got together, lying on Awsten’s bed with their legs tangled, laughing about absolutely nothing. He remembers the idea he had, sitting up and reaching for one of Awsten’s old guitars; bet I can play our entire set with my eyes closed.

And the fucking shine in Awsten’s eyes as soon as he said it. He lit up. The smile that stretch across his face never left. Bet what?

I’ll buy you the most expensive drink you want at Starbucks, if you win.

But if I win, and he remembers Awsten rolling his eyes at that part, you come here, and let me kiss you for as long as I want.

That’s all you want?

That’s all I want.

He won.

And he still has to smile at the memory, smile at the thought of that night, how his lips didn’t leave Awsten’s body and his arms never moved from his waist. It stayed soft like that, messy, almost, lip locked and warm and cuddled up like two pieces of a puzzle that were meant to be.

Meant to be.

He forces himself to swallow, shakes his head and turns his attention back to the stage. At least he wasn’t fucking any of the chords up.

Awsten looks different tonight.

He’s quieter, slower, not animating the stage like he usually does. It’s obvious that something’s wrong and he knows the fans are gonna be talking about it on Twitter for the next few days, posting clips and trying to analyze what in Awsten’s recent tweets could possibly give away the reason for his change in demeanor.

He’s missing some of the chords and his voice is weaker. He still sounds good, but there’s not as much power behind everything, not nearly enough force to drive across the emotion-packed words he spent hours pouring over. They don’t feel the same without that, don’t have the same effect that they usually do – Geoff always looks forward to Awsten showing them new music, always anticipates the icy punch in the stomach that leaves him disoriented for hours afterward; Awsten just has that power.

Tonight, something’s missing.

Awsten’s staying right behind the microphone stand – he hates that, I wish I could just fuckin’ sing and crowdsurf, ‘cause dude, that’s all I really wanna do – and he keeps skipping over words. He’s barely playing his guitar at this point. Geoff can’t hear any of the right chords. It’s like he’s 15 again, just picked up the instrument for the first time, trying to get all the strings and make it sound like a semblance of something.

What was semi decent then is awful, now.

Something is wrong.

It just keeps replaying in his head. Something is wrong something is wrong something is wrong something is wrong something is wrong something is wrong something is wrong something is wrong something is wrong something is wrong something is wrong something is wrong-

Awsten stops. He grips the microphone stand in both hands and sways a little, on his feet.

The next moments happen too fast. He barely registers them. One moment, Awsten is standing a few feet away from him, and then he isn’t.

He watches his body crumple to the floor in a tangled pile of limbs.

Everything stops.

Something is so fucking wrong-

…

“He’s okay.”

The doctor sighs, pulls a hand through his hair and exhales. “We checked him out for a concussion and it’s most likely that he doesn’t have one; the CT came back negative, so he may have a mild headache for a couple days, but it’s nothing serious. We put him on an IV to give him back some fluids, but…that leads into the most pressing issue here.”

Geoff stops mid-swallow. The saliva catches in his throat and clings to the back, stretches itself too thing and snaps in the middle, creates a hole that descends lower, down into the pit of his stomach. “W-What…?”

“He’s extremely underweight, and severely malnourished,” the man continues. “He’s showing a lot of signs of anorexia nervosa, with possible bulimic tendencies. That’s why he passed out. His body wasn’t getting enough nutrients to function properly.”

It isn’t news.

He’s had the feeling for a while, seen Awsten’s shirts getting looser and his jeans sliding off his waist more and more, held him at night and wondered, why the fuck can I hold both his wrists in one hand why the fuck can I feel every single one of his ribs why the fuck is he so thin-

But it still feels like destruction, like it’s swung and connected and slammed into the fragile structure he was rebuilding from the debris of his chest, swung and connected and knocked it to pieces once again, shattered the rest of the fragments as they fall and embed himself deep into his chest cavity.

The realization is a wrecking ball and nothing will stop bleeding.

“What- I…” Jawn stutters and trails off, shaking his head. Otto reaches over to put a hand on his back, and he bites his lip. “What do we do? How do we- how do we help him?”

“If you can get him to agree to spending some time in a treatment facilit-”

“No.” He doesn’t register the words until he hears himself say them, and even then, they don’t feel like his. “We’re not sticking him in a mental hospital. We’re not committing him. He’s not a problem we’re gonna shove in there and hope gets fixed.” He looks up, to address the doctor. “Thanks, but…we- I want to try helping him on my own, before I send him to some fuckin’ facility.”

The doctor nods, “either way, he has to agree. He’s not a minor, and he hasn’t been declared incompetent or unable to make his own medical decisions; he needs to consent to it. From what you’re saying…I doubt he will.”

“He doesn’t need a treatment facility. We’ve got him.”

…

“He should be waking up soon.”

The nurse flips his chart closed and sends Geoff a small smile. “Press that button.” She motions to cord resting across Awsten’s thighs. “If you need anything. We’re gonna keep him tonight for observation, so someone’s probably gonna come in and check on him in a few hours, but aside from that, you guys should be good.”

“Thank you.” He scoots one of the chairs all the way up to the side of the bed and reaches for Awsten’s free hand, brings it to his lips and then leans over to kiss his forehead. “Oh, sunshine…what the fuck did you do?”

Awsten’s legs are so bony. Every single one of his ribs is visible. Geoff can feel them through his shirt when he reaches in to hug him, feel his hipbones jutting out sharply and the edges of his collarbones poking through as well. His face is thinner, too. Every part of him has gotten so much smaller.

They didn’t see it.

Through the baggy sweaters and belted jeans and constant flurry of long sleeves, they didn’t fucking see it. They didn’t notice when he stopped coming out with them to eat or disappeared after the meals he did partake in. They didn’t notice the shakiness, didn’t see how he was always tired and constantly cold – that’s the part that stings the most. Geoff remembers numerous nights that Awsten crawled into bed with him, countless days of him pressing against his side, trying to leech as much body heat as he could.

They should’ve seen this sooner.

He knows that’s not the place he needs to be in right now. It’s not productive and it won’t help Awsten at all, but he can’t help it. He can’t help but resign himself to the fact that this could’ve been prevented. He could’ve seen it sooner. He could’ve actually looked, instead of passing it off as touring and stress and not wanting to encroach on the bubble their relationship had slipped into.

He could’ve done more.

But he didn’t, none of them did, and now they’re here, and he needs to fix this. He needs to help. He needs to do something, because he’s done too much of nothing in the past few months. He’s done too much of ignoring, pretending, convincing himself that everything was alright so it wouldn’t turn big. It was already big.

“I love you.” He strokes a thumb across the back of Awsten’s palm and brings his hand up to his lips again. “We’re gonna fix this, Aws. I promise. We’re gonna get you better.”

“What if I don’t want to get better?”

He freezes.

Awsten blinks rapidly as his eyes adjust to the light, shifts up to lean on his forearms, and pulls his hand out of Geoff’s. He lets his head flop back onto the pillows, but doesn’t move his gaze. “There’s nothing to fix. M’not broken.”

“I know that.” Geoff forces his voice to stay steady. His heart is racing. He feels like it’s sprinting at the start of a marathon, going too fast to have any energy later on, using all that’s in the fuel tank for the first few miles, ensuring a long and hard journey ahead. “You’re not broken. There’s nothing to fix. But there is something wrong. You and I both know that, Aws.”

“It’s a diet.” Awsten’s voice is starting to get thicker. He’s avoiding eye contact now, turning to stare down at the sheets while he picks at a loose thread from the blanket. “It’s a diet and a workout plan. Y’all are making a big deal out of fucking nothing.” His voice breaks on the last word and Geoff wants nothing more than to hug him, but he knows that won’t solve anything. He knows that’s not enough. Not anymore.

“Starving yourself isn’t a diet, love.” He holds his hand out, palm up. Please, come on, just take it. Take this. Let me help you I love you please let me be there for you please- “And working out ‘till you pass out isn’t a plan. It’s not healthy. None of this is.”

“It’s not fucking about being healthy!” Awsten cries. “Don’t you fucking get it? It’s not about doing it the “healthy”-” He pauses to make the air quotes, “way. I’m too fucking big, why don’t you understand that?”

He’s crying, now. Geoff can hear it in his voice. He bites his lip and straightens, pushes the chair back with one of his calves and takes a step forward to sit on the edge of Awsten’s bed. He reaches, again, for his hand, and this time, Awsten gives it to him.

“You passed out on stage, Awsten,” he says. “Don’t you get what that means? You’ve been depriving your body of the nutrients it needs, to work properly. It couldn’t handle it anymore, so you collapsed. That shouldn’t happen because of a diet.”

“So I went a little too hard this week, whatever.” His voice is shaking, now. He’s trying so hard. He’s trying so fucking hard to convince even himself that this isn’t a problem. His hands are trembling and the heart monitor he’s attached to is starting to speed up. “Not a big deal. I won’t do it again.”

“Diets don’t work like this, love.” He doesn’t want to get angry. He doesn’t want to yell. He knows that’ll only work Awsten up even more. He knows that his knee-jerk reaction is far from attraction. He knows how easy it would be to make this worse and he knows he has to actively resist but it is so hard it is so fucking hard he wants to yell he wants to scream fuck it fuck this fuck- “This an eating disorder.”

“I don’t have a fucking eating disorder.”

“Awst-”

“You can go.”

“What?” He stops, tightens his grip on Awsten’s hand, and stares at him. What is this what does this mean what did you say what the fuck is happening right now-

“You said it yourself.” Awsten’s voice is low, thick with tears. He won’t look up. “It’s not a diet, right? It’s an eating disorder. It’s a problem. And I- I know you don’t wanna deal with that. With- with me. And I get it, ‘cause I wouldn’t, either. It’s okay. I won’t hold it against you. No hard feelings. No strings attached. You can-” He pauses to choke out a dry sob. “You can go.”

The tears are rolling down his cheeks rapidly. His eyes are closed and he still won’t look up. Geoff swallows and shakes his head, scoots up the mattress and leans forward, rolls onto his other side in one motion.

He slides in next to Awsten and takes him into his arms, pulls him against his chest and presses a long kiss against his cheek. He waits until Awsten turns to look at him before speaking, “you are not a problem. You’re not a burden or a basket case that anyone has to babysit, and you’re not- hey, listen.” He pauses, as Awsten starts to squirm. “You’re not an obligation, sunshine. Okay? You’re not. People aren’t here because they have to be. Me, Otto, Jawn, Lucas, everyone else that loves you? We’re here because we want to be, because we love you and want you to be okay. We care about- I care about you. You’re the love of my life and I want you to be okay. I’ll do anything I can to make sure you get there. So no, you’re not a burden and neither is this. I need you to know that.”

Awsten stills in his arms, breathing softly. He doesn’t say anything, instead turns into Geoff’s chest and presses his face into his shirt. Geoff feels the tears start to dampen the fabric a few seconds later. “I j-just…” Awsten chokes out. “It’s so hard. Everything. It’s all so fucking hard and I’m so tired and everything hurts, all the time, and I just- I don’t want to be like this anymore but no one’s gonna want me ‘cause no one ever wants me and I just-”

“Whoa, breathe, love.” Geoff rubs his back as he sobs again, starts to breathe heavily against his chest. “You’re okay. And everything’s gonna be okay, I promise. We’re gonna get you some help and it’s gonna get better. We’ve got a lot to talk about, you and me. You’ve kept a lot inside and tried to deal with it on your own and that’s not healthy, okay? You gotta talk to me. I need you to talk to me about these things. ‘Cause you’re not on your own. You’re never on your own. You’ve got me, and I’m not going anywhere. Okay?”

“O-okay…”

They have a lot to talk about. There’s a long way to go from here. And he knows it’ll be hard. He knows Awsten will hate him some of the days. He knows he’ll want to scream and cry and throw things at a wall, on others. But love is cost, and sacrifice, and things not always going the way they were meant to. The road is windy and it is long and this is just one of the (likely many) bumps. He knows it. And he knows there’ll be more.

He’s ready.

[volleygifs]

Haikyuu Fic Recs #2!

BACK WITH ANOTHER BATCH OF FIC RECS! Wow... I’m amazed with how many of these have E or M ratings... so just... make sure you read the tags and stuff... 

(Fics with a ♡ beside them are my 100% must-reads.)

Recs are under the cut, happy reading! ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ 

Lust and Lies – 36K - E - Tensemi

When Tendou hooks up with a stranger at a club, he expects their one-night stand to be only that: One night. By unexpected circumstance, he discovers Eita is an employee of Tendou's best friend, Ushijima.

You Make It Sound So Easy To Be Alive – 12K - E - Tensemi

Sometimes death just seems easier. Semi Eita has struggled for a long time, and one night he decides that living just isn't worth it. Before he can take the plunge, he's interrupted by a strange man who introduces himself as Tendou Satori.

♡  Chase This Light – 22K – E - DaiSuga

Daichi loves making music. But it will never be his life, not after he graduates from university and leaves behind the years he spent playing his guitar to pursue his accounting degree, his desk job, the dull acoustics of computer keys.

He Always Starts Something – 38K – M - KuroTsuk

In his third year of high school, Kei is recruited by Kuroo's university to play volleyball. A weekend on campus is plenty of time to check out the team, meet the coaches, see a game from the bench... and see if his two-year-old crush on Kuroo has any chance at all.

Petals of Pining – 42K – E - KuroTsuk

Tsukishima wouldn’t say he was pining. He didn’t know what he was feeling towards anyone anymore. Or what was right. Or what he should do. But he does know what feels good and what doesn’t.

Falling Aint The Half of It – 20K – M - Bokuaka

He remembered having power. Remembered being limitless, what it felt like to hold the world in the palm of his hand. He remembered his wings, wide and white, imbued with all the light of his being. And he remembered flying with all of his siblings. He remembered pain. He remembered the Fall.

The Jacket You Never Returned – 5K – G - Bokuaka

He leaned over, kissed Bokuto on the cheek, and smiled bitterly, eyes watery. He will never remember. Not now, not ever. What they were will now forever be forgotten. "You used to call me Keiji, Koutarou."

Namaste – 8K – E - Bokuaka

When Bokuto’s mood swings become a problem for his team, the coach orders Bokuto to attend yoga classes to try and relax. It’s difficult to relax, however, when Bokuto can’t stop staring at his impossibly attractive yoga teacher. Akaashi is a perfect, extremely flexible specimen of a man, Bokuto is smitten, and private lessons go much better than expected.

Il Mio Ragazzo Falso – 18K – T - BokuAka

With his grandparents’ fiftieth wedding anniversary looming fast and large, Akaashi finds himself urged to bring a date and not quite to the point where his family knows that said date will not be of the female variety. At some point, he has to decide which will be the least frightening prospect — braving coming out to his family or endure Operation: Find Keiji A Girlfriend 2k15. And why is the only person he can think of to drag along to this thing his overly-spirited volleyball captain?

♡  No Words – 12K – M - KinKage

Kageyama Tobio is surprised to receive a text message from Kindaichi Yuutarou, saying that they have landed in the same college. But Kindaichi isn't looking for space or to pick a fight, and what they find together changes both of them.

Monster Nut – 7K – M -  IwaTen (crack)

In which Iwaizumi works at Panera Bread and there's always this one annoying customer coming in asking for "that Monster Nut".

Summer Lovin’ – 6K - E - Oikuroo

He kisses like he’s just as starved for it, as if a year hadn’t passed between them without exchanging anything more than obligatory ‘happy birthday’ messages. It feels natural; the way their bodies melt together, Kuroo’s fingers fitting perfectly in the slots of Oikawa’s splayed hand.

A Game We Both Could Win – 7K – E - Kagehina

If he were a decent guy, he’d pretend this wasn’t happening, but apparently he's not really a decent guy. It's an accident, initially. But it spirals into something else, and it's incredibly easy to get lost in it.

Talk It Out – 4K – M - Iwaoi

There’s just something about him that rubs Iwaizumi the wrong way. He’s always way too close, leaning into Tooru’s space and leaning his elbow on his shoulder.

Film Reel Life – 8K – T - Iwaoi

The only person Iwaizumi is lying to is himself, when he insists: I am not in love with Oikawa Tooru.

♡  The Courtship Ritual of the Hercules Beetle – 66K – T - Iwaoi

Tooru is pretty sure he could manage the mating habits of a mosquito. It’s the mating habits of people he can’t seem to get right.

♡  Walking The Dog – 11K - E - Iwaoi

“Basset hound?” Oikawa asks, bending over to scratch behind Itchy’s ears. “Basset hound,” Iwaizumi confirms. He’s suddenly forgot where he usually puts his arms when he's talking.

No Touching Allowed – 10K – E - Iwaoi

“You’ve got one rule,” Iwaizumi winks at him.

Different Strokes (3 parts) – 19k total – Akakage

Broke-ass art school graduate Akaashi Keiji couldn’t turn down a paying job in the art world, even if it meant sitting naked in front of strangers. However, one of them wouldn’t stop staring, but meh . . . what the hell. He was kind of cute.

You Have 105 Saved Messages – 6K – G - Iwakin

In a panic about what to do with his newfound responsibility on the team, Kindaichi makes a desperate call to his old senpai. However, he doesn't realize that his daily updates about his life could change things for both of them. 

Our Birthday – 2K – E - KamaFuta

“What? I just wanted to ask if you wanted to get together for my birthday.”

“At least,” Kamasaki says, “say our birthday.”

“Oh, is yours coming up?”

Sincerely Yours – M - (WIP) – Bokuaka, Kuroken, Iwaoi

Saturday detention isn’t normally a place you go in order to find the answers to your problems. It’s where you go when you’ve fucked up bad enough you have to lose an entire Saturday to make up for what you’ve done. The Prince and The Criminal were caught cutting class. The Outsider cursed out his Shakespeare professor. The Jock and The Brain got into a fist fight. And the Birthday Boy, he’s not even supposed to be here...

Courtship of the Owl – M - (WIP) – Bokuaka

The Akaashi family estate hires a new stablehand to help with the newborn foal come spring;A man with a beaming smile, bright eyes, and owlish hair. Akaashi loves owls.

♡  Cotton Breathing – 13K – E - Iwaoi

It’s disgustingly hot by the middle of July. Tooru can feel his shirt sticking to his back the longer he sits. He loves it, though. The heat, the whoosh of air through the cracked window, and the fact that he’s taking an actual old-fashioned train should have lulled him into a hazy state of happiness but he’s already on the edge of his seat.

h(a)unting - 15K - T - Bokuaka

Bokuto and Akaashi are ghost hunters with more mystery between them than in the work they do. The new case they take on, however, may force them to change that - or they risk having everything unravel.

[sitp-recs]

hi love! Hope you're having a good day ❤ thank you so much for everything you do. I've been craving some really romantic drarry fics lately, do you have any recs? Like fics that make your heart wrench but in the best possible way. Maybe something where one of them just sits there and realizes that "damn. I love him so much"? Sending you lots of love and sunshine, I admire you so much!

Thanks so much anon, this message made my day! Earlier this week I posted a reclist with fics that include the glorious “oh” moment - you can check them here. Btw I love the way you describe it: “fics that make your heart wrench but in the best possible way”! There’s nothing as fulfilling as finding a story where they’re so in love it hurts. I’m listing below a few of my personal favorites combining heart-wrenching romance with soft, low stakes angst. I can’t promise they’ll work for everyone, but I hope you enjoy ;)

Light Years Away by @lettersbyelise (2019, M, 2.5k)

No one told Harry about the training courses young Aurors and Curse Breakers have in common, just like Harry never told anyone about his one-night encounter with Draco Malfoy two months prior.

Still Life by orphan_account (2019, M, 3k)

The Long Fall by @tackytigerfic (2021, M, 3.6k)

It's supposed to be a simple house renovation, and maybe it's just the paint fumes, but Harry is feeling dizzy around Draco Malfoy. And what's the real meaning of family, anyway?

Sun Stroke by @peachpety (2020, E, 4k)

Draco, Harry, and a handful of friends take a summer holiday at the beach. With the help of a sultry sea setting, encouraging friends, and a fisherman’s jumper, Harry and Draco's mutual attraction swells and things get hot on a salty summer night.

Like Gold by @the-sinking-ship (2021, E, 4.5k)

Draco runs away from home on the back of his boyfriend’s motorbike.

Our Little Life by @tackytigerfic (2020, M, 7k)

Sometimes Harry dreams. Only they're not really dreams at all, and Malfoy is always in them. It's time travel, but not as we know it, and Harry just needs a good night's sleep.

the keys to your kingdom by thistle_verse (2016, E, 7.5k)

It was nothing so elegant as fucking, the first time they came together. It was teeth just a little too sharp— against a collarbone, on the right-side curve of a jaw, drawing blood from the plushest part of a bottom lip.

Stories in E Minor by huldrejenta (2014, E, 8.7k)

Draco has found his place in the Muggle world. He's got his music, he's got his neighbours and he is content. Until a certain someone from the past enters his life again.

Life goes not backward by @shealwaysreads (2020, T, 9k)

Harry still isn’t used to gifts, but this one is different. A story of coming home, finding safe ground, and the wild courage of putting down roots.

fine i'll hold my breath / til i forget it's complicated by teatrolley (2015, M, 11k)

Harry and Draco become friends with benefits, and Harry thinks it's more complicated than it actually is.

Evolution by @potteresque-ire (2016, E, 13k)

Draco Malfoy was condemned to live a Muggle’s life for his three-year probation. His wand was locked away, and he was forbidden to set foot in Wizarding Britain until Hermione Granger secured a job for him in the Aurors’ stock room.

The Courting by the Pureblood Who Only Has Five Milligrams of Romantic Intelligence and Thinks He’s Real Smooth by @cibeewastaken (2020, T, 19k)

Draco could grab Potter and shove him into a stall before proceeding to suck his soul out of his dick, but secretly, deep down, in the part of Draco that he will never admit to anyone, he is (everyone pauses to shudder) a romantic. Potter is not someone Draco wants a one-off with. Potter is — Draco’s beloved!

White as Snow by @bixgirl1 (2018, E, 19k)

After a quick escape from danger, Harry and Draco find themselves trapped in a blizzard, a small cabin their only refuge from the storm. It's the perfect place to recover and regroup — and to have a long-overdue conversation or two.

A Hyperactive Fruit, a Nasty Neighbour and a Love Story by synonym4life (2017, E, 20k)

Potter’s pet Niffler is wreaking havoc in Godric’s Hollow and Draco, the Assistant Head to the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, is the one who has to deal with it. Repeatedly.

Nice Things by aideomai (2020, M, 22k)

The first thing that happened was Theodore Nott came back from France.

Waiting By An Open Door by Femme and noeon (2017, E, 29k)

Draco starts following Potterwatch secretly during the War. He wishes Potter would come save him too. But that sort of thing only happens in fairy tales, and Malfoys don't get fairy tale endings, do they?

Against All Odds by momatu (2015, E, 53k)

Beauxbatons is hosting the first ever Quidditch Summer School for children from all over Europe, and Harry has promised to enroll Teddy as his birthday present.

Little Compton Street (One Rainy Night in Soho) by @writcraft (2018, E, 65k)

Draco is lonely, Harry hates the press and it won’t stop raining in London. Harry discovers a magical street that’s close to disappearing forever and Draco realises he’s one rainy night in Soho away from finding everything he’s been searching for.

Little Deaths and How to Avoid Them (or Draco Malfoy's Guide to Stop Dying and Start Living Instead) by nerakrose and dustmouth (2018, M, 96k)

Malfoy is way too interested in coroner reports for somebody who's definitely not looking for ways to die, Harry wants to be friends with him, and Ginny wants to break up with Harry.

Far From the Tree by aideomai (2020, E, 112k)

The arrival of Harry Potter’s children—snapped back in time, the children themselves guessed, twenty or so years—was the most interesting thing to happen at Hogwarts for years.

[hlgirldirectionfics]

my heart is untamed, still by ariadne_odair 

"Maybe when you're not ten, sweetheart," Louis sneers, and laughs in her face. The girl blanches, her entire face turning white, bitten nails clutching her plaid shirt.

"Louis," Liam says slowly, watching as the girl leaves. "You know that girl is in our year, right?"

Louis watches the girl go, the way her shoulders are slumped, head ducked down, and fights down the squirming feeling in her stomach. "So?" she says icily, trying to keep her voice steady, "I don't care."

Or the one where Harry pines and Louis' mean, but it's not so fun when the tables are turned. (13k)

bruises on your thighs (like my fingerprints) by ariadne_odair

 it's the apocalypse. it's the apocalypse, and louis has her girl by her side, harry's face buried into her neck, their limbs tangled together so louis couldn't escape if she wanted to. not that she'd have anywhere to go. it's the end of the world after all. 

and she'd never leave harry. never.  (2k)

Lumiere, Darling by dea_liberty 

She’s so gone it’s not even funny. It really isn’t funny because falling in love with your best friend is such a stupid, idiotic, dumb thing to do, and there’s only ever a happy ending in romantic comedies. Louis (she claims, loudly and publicly whenever anyone will listen despite the fact that she’ll watch them with Harry any time Harry asks her to) hates romantic comedies.

The thing is, when it really comes down to it, Louis never stood a chance. (11k)

Don't Hold Back by Star55 

“Open up,” she says. Harry opens her mouth immediately and Louis pours a tiny amount of the champagne into her mouth before she’s kissing Harry hotly. Harry moans into the kiss, her hands moving to stroke over Louis’ naked back before grabbing her arse and squeezing. Louis sits back with a smile, Harry’s hands still on her arse. “Going to make you all sticky,” she breathes. She tips some of the champagne onto Harry’s chest and it pools between her breasts before trickling downwards with the force of gravity. Louis’ head dips down quickly, sucking it off her skin before it has a chance to get any lower.

A 17/25 age difference story in which Harry and Louis celebrate, get jealous and have their first ever proper fight. (12k) Part 7 of Shades of Pink (Crazy in Love)

Make an Effort by Star55 

“You want to break up with me?”

Harry sits up so quickly her head spins. She looks over at the door where Louis stands, looking as awful as Harry feels. Her hair is a mess and her shirt is inside out. She looks like she’s been awake all night and immediately, guilt courses through Harry. She bites her lip as she stares at Louis, unable to form any words and completely unable to think of anything to say.

A 17/25 age difference story in which Harry and Louis cry, make up and start to resolve things. (6k) Part 8 of Shades of Pink (Crazy in Love)

I love your demons (like devils can) by ariadne_odair 

"I am right here," she says loudly, and she can almost hear the crack when Louis' head whips around to stare at her.

"Why?" Louis asks, and Harry feels her insides shrivel up and die.

Harry didn’t plan to join the football team. She didn’t plan to sleep with the captain of the football team. She definitely didn’t plan to sleep with the closeted captain of the football team, who promptly acted as if nothing happened and left Harry a pathetic, pining mess. (70k) Chapters 7/7

but I just can't apologise (i hope you can understand this) by ariadne_odair 

Harry's tired.

It's clings to her like smoke, wraps around her lungs and threatens to choke her. The fatigue slides under her skin like a splinter, sharp and biting and a constant ache.

So yeah.

Harry's tired.

high school au where harry breaks into a thousand pieces. louis puts her back together again. (12k) 

waiting for love to change the world by amemorymaze 

The door swings open and Harry, once again, feels all the breath leave her chest. She feels herself trying to catch herself before she stumbles into Louis’ outstretched arms. She stops short as she finds her breath again, stops for a split second before that smile is stretching across Louis’ face. The toothy one where she bites her lip only very slightly, where her eyes shine bright - the glistening blue catching in the light of the sun. The smile that breaks down everything inside of Harry, everything that she builds up in her head every time she leaves Louis’s presence just crumbles to the ground. The smile that just causes Harry to think; fuck it, before falling forward and letting Louis catch her in a hug. or, a story told through the seasons as harry finds her way around a brand new school whilst falling in love. (4k) 

Blush by orphan_account 

"I've never wanted to kiss a girl but like, every time I look at your lips I just wanna... fucking kiss you all night long." Harry's eyes open wide as Louis' drop to Harry's mouth; her lips are swollen from biting them all night, red and wet and plump.

"Then why don't you?" Harry whispers.

or, the Christmas fic in which Louis is 99.5% sure she's straight and Harry likes to walk around shirtless and watch lesbian films (15k) 

You are the only one I need by ourlivs 

Harry feels Louis's warm lips against hers and It's like she's alive again. "I need you." Louis whispers while she takes a deep breath and everything's just starting to get intense.

Or Harry and Louis started argue a lot and broke up but they still love each other. (7k) 

Don't Wanna Sleep Cause We're Dreamin' Out Loud by vanillabeanniall 

A cross-country road trip was symbolic of new beginnings. Graduating high school was the closing of a significant chapter in their lives, and what better way to find your next one than traveling around the country until you get bored, murdered, or your car breaks down?

Louis finds herself on a road trip with her three best friends and the love of her life -- problem is, she hasn't exactly let Harry know how she feels. (19k)

Just Me, Her and The Moons by MoonyJu 

It was supposed to be a regular mission, but a storm makes Harry and Louis get stuck on the planet, and while they wait to be rescued, they end up confronting some things from their past. (3k)

Hawkeye, Not Hulk by kikikryslee 

Everyone at the party was having a blast, but Louis sat on the kitchen counter drinking some of her mom’s sangria. She wished that she could be brave enough to text Harry, because they needed to talk. But she wasn’t brave. She was eighteen and afraid of her best friend not liking her back. With a sigh, she took another sip from her cup. It was going to be a long night. Or, the one where Harry and Louis have been best friends since they were kids, and they're the only two people in the world that don't know they like each other.  (8k)