#I’m still squeezing all the material I can get from this album just you wait

[royalchewy]

Finally got to the next Brozone and AJR piece! I was really struggling with what would fit Bruce the most, all the others I have a pretty concrete idea. Look below if you want to see more about my logic behind the lyrics. Curious what others would have put.

I feel like the last lyrics of Turning out pt.iii are an older Bruce talking to his past self and the rest of the song is how a younger Bruce was struggling with finding a real sense of romantic love. He probably experienced/received a lot of superficial “love” from potential partners until he finally found vacay island. I feel like the whole song could be his struggle to find the true kind of love he has with Brandy.

I think touchy feely fool could also fit Bruce. I think while he has a resentment to JD, he overall still cares deeply for him and all his brothers (These feelings probably increasing after having his own kids).There’s still a sense of hurt feelings he will newer get over, but he also is almost more angry that he isn’t actually angry. Thats how I can see him feeling at least.

[ptergwen]

no sleep

pairing: singer!reader x tom holland || w/c: 1.6k

warnings: swearing and many many many suggestive jokes

summary: you’re on jimmy kimmel to talk about your music, but he has other plans

a/n: y’all i’ve literally always wanted to write singer!reader and this idea just came to me and i had to get it out because it’s so cute :,) i really hope ya like it

-

jimmy kimmel invited you onto his show to promote a single from your upcoming album. you stepped out of the spotlight for a while, so this is your first official appearance of the year.

“my first guest tonight...” there’s a cheer from the audience. you grin to yourself, waiting for jimmy to finish announcing you.

“you wanna say it for me?” he chuckles and stands your picture up on his desk. “my first guest tonight surprised fans this morning with her new single ‘no sleep.’ it’s currently number one in over seventy countries.” jimmy holds for applause, which you get a ton of. you cover your hot face with your hands.

“she’s here to talk to us about the song and her short hiatus. please welcome y/n y/l/n!”

the music plays while you walk onstage, followed by more cheers and clapping. you’re beaming as you wave to everyone. you give jimmy a quick hug and exchange hello’s over the noise.

you’ve been in the industry for a few years, but you’ll never get used to responses like this. all the love really warms your heart.

“thank you!” you giggle out, taking your seat on the couch. the audience yells some more when the music dies out. “thank you so much! oh my god,” you make a face at jimmy, who laughs and gestures to everyone. “they clearly hated the song,” he jokes to you. “i was gonna say,” you agree, smoothing your dress down.

you look out at the crowd with a pout. “no, seriously. you guys are so cute.” jimmy copies your pout, earning a playful eye roll from you.

you’ve been on the show a couple of times before, so you two are friendly. tom has also brought you to chill backstage with him when he was a guest. you would’ve brought him this time if he wasn’t away for filming.

“so, you took most of the year off from making music,” jimmy starts the actual conversation. “mhm, i did,” you hum and cross one of your legs over the other. “how was that? was it weird not being in the studio?” you scrunch your face up, then he adds another question. “what did you actually do with yourself?”

“i mean, music is obviously a big part of who i am. making it, loving it, all that stuff.” a small smile crosses your face. “so, yeah. it sort of felt like something was missing at first.” jimmy nods along, you shrugging one of your shoulders.

“at the same time, i really needed to take a minute and just breathe. come back with my shit more together. i think i have,” you let out a reflective sigh. “it didn’t have anything to do with your boyfriend? a mr. tom holland?” jimmy teases, you waving a hand at him. “no, don’t give him all the credit.”

your break genuinely was for yourself. no one needs to know that tom was also off, or that he spent all his free time with you. that was just a plus.

“are you sure? because, it seemed like you two were getting really cozy.” a picture from your instagram pops up on the screen. it’s of tom under a blanket. he’s reaching out for you with a lazy smile. you lean over on the couch so you’re off camera, another giggle escaping you.

jimmy flips to another picture. “that was exhibit A. here’s exhibit B.” the whole audience coos, jimmy raising his eyebrows at you. this one is a mirror selfie from tom’s instagram. your arms are slung around his neck from behind, and half your face is hidden. tom is doing his signature eye crinkling smile into the camera.

“aren’t they just adorable?” jimmy asks the audience, making them erupt in more cheers. you sit up again and clear your throat. seeing those is bittersweet for you. “he’s very cuddly. anyway, back to the music!” you do a small clap. little do you know, there’s much more to come.

“yes, yes. back to the music. talk to me about ‘no sleep.’” the song is one hundred percent about tom. you’re not sure you should say that, considering the... explicit content in it. you and tom did get very cozy over your break, as jimmy would say. it was the only time you weren’t relaxing.

“well,” you plaster on an overly happy smile. that earns more laughter from jimmy. “it’s about what you do in bed when you’re, um, not sleeping,” you explain. “and who do you do those things in bed with?” jimmy glances up at the screen again. “you’re choosing violence today, jimmy,” you say under your breath.

there’s a chuckle from backstage that sounds eerily similar to tom’s. it must have been a PA. all this talk about him is seriously fucking with your head.

“well, everyone in my life inspires my work in some way. they’re such angels,” you dodge the question, thinking you’re clever about it. jimmy won’t let you get off that easy. “friends? family?” he asks you. “yeah, everyone,” you exhale in relief. jimmy widens his eyes at you. “so, that means ‘no sleep’ is about your mom?”

your mouth falls open. he’s really going to make you spill the details of your sex life.

“what the fuck, no!” you squeal, looking out into the audience for help. they join in your laughter. “it’s about tom,” you finally confirm so jimmy doesn’t suggest anything else. “it’s about tom, my god. next topic.” you’re smiling despite yourself.

“why? don’t you wanna tell us more about your lover?” jimmy glances off to the side. what is going on back there? you sit up straighter in your spot. “no, this is my interview!” you’re half joking, half serious.

although you and tom aren’t private at all, you’ve never talked about him this much. it’s overwhelming. besides that, this is making you miss him a lot.

“that’s too bad. we thought... we thought you might like to share it,” jimmy is already grinning about whatever he has planned. this isn’t supposed to be part of your segment. “huh? i’m literally so lost.” you furrow your eyebrows at him, lowering your voice. “we didn’t talk about this.”

he pats the arm of your couch. “they say there’s no time like the present. ladies and gentlemen, tom holland!”

on cue, tom runs out from backstage. the audience practically roars with how loud they are. people even jump out of their seats. you clasp a hand over your mouth in pure shock. this feels like a prank, like jimmy is about to say sike. then, tom comes up to the couch. you almost fall over, jimmy proudly watching on.

tom grins so wide it takes up his whole face. “happy release day,” he murmurs as you get to your feet. you’re not able to speak just yet, only staring up at him with glossy eyes. he brings you into a tight hug. his hands rub up and down your back, your arms snaking around his middle.

“tommy,” you try to whisper the nickname. you forgot your microphone is on. everyone “aw’s” at you both, including jimmy. “my love,” tom’s lips brush your cheek briefly. “hi, baby,” he speaks into your ear. you hide your face in his button up while he rocks you side to side.

he’s been away for a couple of months working on the third spider-man. this is the first time you’ve seen him since he left.

“shouldn’t you be in atlanta?” you ask louder this time for the audience to hear. you’re still doing an interview. “today’s a big day. i had to see you,” tom gives you one last squeeze. “in person,” he adds, before you can say you already facetimed.

the fact that him and jimmy put this whole thing together is making you emotional. you’d be fully crying if you two were alone right now.

“she doesn’t want you here, though. remember?” jimmy chimes in, tom breathing out a laugh. he sadly lets go of you. you flop back onto the couch, tom pointing behind him with his thumb. “i’ll just be on my way. five hour flight, no big deal.” “no, no, no, no. stay,” you whine and make grabby hands at him.

that’s all it takes for tom to slip into the spot next to you. he bites back a smile, putting an arm around you and the couch. you don’t want to annoy everyone with too much pda, so you subtly curl into his side. the people actually love you and tom together. jimmy claps his hands.

“we’ll be right back with y/n y/l/n and tom holland!” he says into the camera, the band playing more filler music. he steps out from behind the desk to greet tom. tom stands up, the two of them giving each other pats on the back. the camera stops rolling.

“hey, man. thanks for doing this,” tom puts a hand on jimmy’s arm. “anything for the happy couple. i’m gonna get some water, see you in five.” jimmy shoots you another smile on his way to his dressing room. you return it. that leaves you and tom to yourselves.

“baby,” you say in a sing song voice, dropping your head onto tom’s shoulder. “i’m so happy you’re here. i real life almost peed when you came out.” tom snakes his arm around your waist. “that would be upsetting,” he mumbles, his index finger drawing circles on you. “it would’ve ruined your very pretty dress.”

“you like it?” you knowingly tug at the form fitting material. tom shifts in his spot. “i’ll tell you what,” he leans in closer to you with a smirk, his breath tickling your ear. “we’re getting no sleep tonight,” he sings from the chorus of your song. you burst into a giggle and squeeze your eyes shut.

he ends up being right.

[marvelouspeterparker]

just little old me

pairing: harry styles x reader

summary: after releasing his second album, and the music video to his hit “watermelon sugar”, the response from his fans is overwhelmingly positive. and while you’re not surprised, harry on the other hand is very grateful, but just a little confused. but you’re more than happy to help clear some things up for him.

warnings: smut (hints of sub! and dom!harry––we love a switch) + unprotected sex but y’all know not to do that! be safe <3

word count: 3k

notes: this is my first ever harry fic! (also based on the summary u can see how long ago i started this sfjkdhgs) i’m so scared to post this i feel like all the harry writers are so talented––

[i’ve been reading harry fics for so long and these are just some of the blogs that you could say pushed my love for harry and inspired me to write a fic of my own: @majorharry​ @harryforvogue​​ @adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy​​ @sunflowervolvimp3​​ @haroldloverboy​​​ @songbirdstyles​ if you haven’t read their stuff yet, you should! i reread them all the time!]

You and Harry had been friends for the longest time, since before he was the Harry Styles. You’d watched him grow up in the spotlight while you supported and loved him from the sidelines. He’d bring you everywhere with him when he could, or rather when you allowed him to––you didn’t like the idea of him spending his money on you, but he always waved you off, saying nothing was too much if it was for you.

You were so proud of what he’d achieved and what he’d become but he was still the same Harry you grew up with and you couldn’t be more grateful to have him in your life all this time.

While he rarely spent his time on social media, you spent a majority of your time checking your phone and refreshing your feeds––you just liked to be informed and up to date. Harry didn’t interact that frequently with his fans online, instead preferring the connection when you meet face to face. However, although he wouldn’t respond to people, he would often let you show him what people were saying––after all, he was human too and sometimes he would get a little curious.

You and Harry had been sitting on his couch for an hour now, him messaging Jeff to deal with work related things while you scrolled through twitter, looking at the fans reactions to Harry’s latest music video. It made you smile seeing how happy he made people, you’d seen several people had said that this was “exactly what we needed during this time” and honestly, you couldn’t agree more.

You scrolled down some more and genuinely laughed out loud at the next tweet you read. “I’d sell both my legs and arms just to be the watermelon slice between Harry’s teeth.”

You caught Harry’s attention and he looked over at you, raising a brow, a small smile on his lips. “What’s up?”

You settled down from your laughing fit and showed him the tweet and both his eyebrows raised.

He laughed sheepishly, “You know I really don’t get the ‘hype’”, he put the last word in air quotes. He was always trying to keep up with the latest “slang” as he would put it. He shrugged, a small smirk on his face “I’m just little old me.”

Though his face showed humor, after all the these years, you could tell from the look in his eyes that there was some truth behind his words.

You looked at him incredulously before rolling your eyes and putting your phone aside, unable to stop yourself from going off. “It’s because you’re so genuinely kindhearted, talented and incredibly attractive.” You said as a matter off factly, looking him right in the eye, before looking down at your hands and leaning further back into the couch. “And you have this aura about you––Literally anyone would get down on their knees for you if you asked––actually, no, you wouldn’t even have to ask. You could just look at them and they’d do it, no questions asked. They’d know what to do.”

You had no idea where the courage for you to say all that came from, but you have to admit something about seeing him biting into those watermelons and looking right in the camera three minutes straight while he sang about eating someone out put you on edge. You had been there for him through all his relationships and you loved having him as a friend...but being that close to Harry and not falling in love with him was practically impossible and you weren’t blind. I mean come on.

After a few moments had passed and he still hadn’t said anything, you looked up at him. He was sitting there, a serious look on his face as he stared you down, completely silent. He put his phone down on the table and leaned back, spreading his legs.

You quickly glanced down at his lap then back up to meet his eyes. “What––What are you doing?”

He looked you up and down. “Well according to you,” he tilted his head cheekily, “all I need to do is look at you, and you’ll know what to do.”

Your breath hitched, your brain malfunctioning.“I––You?” You shook your head, knowing that Harry wouldn’t be doing or saying anything if he didn’t mean it. You decided you’d ask questions later. After all, it’d been a while since you got with anybody and you were more than a little horny. You snapped out of your daze and made your way over to him, sliding down onto your knees right in front of him.

You pushed down the thought of how there were literally millions of other people who would kill to be in your position right now and focused on the task at hand. You looked up at him, silently asking for some direction but he shook his head slightly, “This is all you, love. You call the shots.”

You nodded to yourself, taking a deep breath as you calmed yourself down. “Can you take these off for me?” You asked, pulling on his shirt and his sweats.

He quickly got up and stripped himself of his shirt and his bottoms, but you stopped his hands before he could reach for his briefs. You cleared your throat, looking up at him, “I––I can do it.”

He smiled at you before dropping his hands at his sides, letting you do your thing.

You slowly brought the material down, letting his member spring free, trying not to stare too much because wow. You left a trail of soft kisses down his thighs as you pushed the underwear down his legs and you could feel him taking sharp breaths as you did so. He quickly stepped out of them and waited for you to tell him his next move. 

You looked up at him, your eyes wide and innocently sinful and he swore he felt himself swell up a little more. Your voice was small yet firm when you spoke up. “Can you sit down for me, please?”

He eagerly took a seat and placed his hands on his thighs, his ringed fingers spread out, anxiously tapping against his legs. You grabbed his member and he let out a shaky breath, eyes flitting between your hands on him and your face––both views entrancing him. 

“Is this okay, H?” You asked softly and he almost choked on his breath.

He nodded, “Y––Yeah, f’course it is lovie, shit.” 

You hummed, smiling as you leaned forward and swirled your tongue around his tip. You left open mouthed kisses along his shaft and licked along his cock, from the base to the top before spitting on it, spreading it with you hand and getting it nice and wet. His fingers were digging into his thighs and you couldn’t help but notice. 

You took your hand off of him and ignored the whine that escaped him as you did so. You took his hands in yours and placed them on your head, “You can.” You smiled gently and he nodded, his fingers grasping your strands firmly but not harsh enough to hurt you. 

You put your mouth back on him, stroking him as you took him into your mouth, bobbing your head, relishing in the small whimpers and moans of your name he let out. You were completely focused on him, tuning into what made him react the loudest and doing it over and over again just to hear those pretty sounds again. 

His fingers gripped your hair harder, his hips unwillingly bucking into you softly as he got closer. “M’gonna cum, love. Don’t––” He was mumbling, biting his lips as he looked down at you. When you sucked on his tip, looking him in the eyes, he cursed softly and let his head rest on the cushion, deciding it was too much to feel you and look at you if he wanted to last. “Don’t wanna cum just yet.” 

You hummed and pulled off of him, your hand still stroking him. “No?” You pouted playfully. He could hear it in your voice and it only made him twitch in your hand. 

“N––No.” He swallowed thickly and looked down at you, his eyes blown with lust. He reached down and pulled you up to stand between his legs. “Wanna make you feel good too.” You couldn’t help the smile that stretched across your face. “Not fair for me to be the only one getting what I want, is it?” He tilted his head, licking his lips as he looked up at you, his hands rubbing up and down the backs of your thighs teasingly. 

When you didn’t respond, his hands squeezed you. “Asked you a question, lovie.” 

You gasped lightly. “N––No it’s––not fair...” 

He smirked, reaching for your shorts. “Let’s take these off, yeah?” You nodded and let out a small yeah, and only then did his fingers slip into the waistband and pull the material down your legs. You placed your hands on his shoulders while he helped you step out of your bottoms. He looked up at you, a glint in his eyes as he reached for your panties, again, only pulling them down after you gave your verbal consent. He kept his eyes trained on yours the whole time he slipped them down, and if anything that made you feel more vulnerable––more open. 

When you stepped out of them, he trailed his hands up your thighs and along your hips before raising your shirt a bit. “Can you take this off for me?” You nodded and pulled the shirt over your head, letting it fall to the floor with the rest of your clothes as his hands splayed across your abdomen, his cold rings contrasting with the warm pressure of his fingertips. 

His hands slid up, and he smiled when you let out a breathless please when he asked for permission to touch your newly exposed skin. His eyes finally trailed down past your eyes, widening with arousal when they settled on your soft skin, your pebbled nipples, straining for attention. He rubbed his thumbs over the numbs ever so lightly, looking back up at you when you sighed and arched your back, leaning further into his touch, almost as if he wanted to commit it to memory. 

“Look at you, pet.” You whined softly at the nickname and the feeling of his hands on your skin. “So beautiful.” He grasped your breasts and now it was your turn to let out a shaky breath. 

He let his hands slide back down to your waist and you pouted, making him furrow his brows playfully. “Hey, none of that now.” He brought a hand up to hold your jaw. “Just realized we haven’t even had a proper kiss yet and you had me down your throat.” You felt your cheeks heat up in embarrassment but his thumb caressed your cheek soothingly, sliding over to run over your lips gently. “C’mere.”

You stepped into his embrace and pressed your lips against his, your hands coming to hold the side of his face and play with his hair, making him moan into you. His hand stayed at your jaw, the other sliding down your body to grab your ass firmly. Your lips slotted together perfectly as you pulled away and reconnected them softly every few seconds, thoroughly enjoying each other. He licked into your mouth and quickly took control of the kiss, not that you had any complaints, sucking on your tongue and pulling you in closer. He bit your lip and pulled away, smiling when you subconsciously tried to get more of his lips. 

His eyes trailed down to between your legs and they stayed there for a moment, distracted. “Gonna let me have a taste?” He licked his lips teasingly, looking back up at you. “I just wanna taste it.” He referenced his song, a small smile on his lips. 

You rolled your eyes, a smile on your face as well. “Harry.”

“What?” He shrugged innocently. “M’just being honest.” 

“You actually want to? You don’t have––”

“Been dying to, pet. You don’t know how long I’ve been aching to get my mouth on you.” He got down on his knees and the sight of him looking up at you from that position made your whole body shiver. 

He placed his hands on your thighs. “What do you say? Gonna let me have my dessert?” 

You nodded, letting out a small okay. When you tried to sit down where he had just been seated, he shook his head and stopped you, taking one hand and lifting your leg to place it on his shoulder. Your eyes widened, your mouth dropping open as he placed your hands in his hair to steady you. 

He had the audacity to ask, “You good?” 

You nodded, dazed. “Uh, yeah.”

“Good.” He smiled and with that he leaned forward and licked through your folds, immediately kissing your clit, holding you as your head tipped back in surprise.

“Shit, Harry––” Your fingers gripped his curls, pulling him into you as he moaned. Of course he was enjoying himself as he pleased you. His tongue was moving with purpose as he lapped up your wetness, spreading it around your clit. He really knew how to use his mouth.

You moaned loudly when he sucked on your clit, and even louder when he used the tip of his tongue to trace on it, realizing what he was spelling out–– H A R R Y. He grinned when he realized you caught on and his fingers were digging into you as he held you up, letting you desperately grind onto his face. 

You looked down to make sure he was still okay with all of this, shocked to see him looking up at you, watching your reactions, clearly pleased. You cursed softly. “Feels really good, Harry. Fuck––” 

He hummed blissfully, properly burying himself in you, his eyes stuck on your body as he brought you to the edge rather quickly. “Gonna cum in my mouth, baby?” 

You whined, nodding your head as you held onto him for dear life. “M’so close.”

“Cum for me, pet. I want it.” He wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked hard, holding you upright as your body shivered and convulsed in his hands and on his tongue. He didn’t let up, fully making love to your clit with his tongue as he kissed your lower lips passionately, getting his light stubble wet. He was making a proper mess but neither of you cared. 

When your legs stopped trembling, he pressed a kiss to your clit, then to the thigh over his shoulder before placing your leg back on the ground. He looked up at you, a smug grin on his face as you looked at him, breathless. He stood up, his hands finding their place on your hips and he licked the rest of your juices that were still on his lips, his chin still slick with your arousal. 

“Care to clean me up, love?” He leaned closer. “Is your mess after all.” 

You smirked before leaning in and licking up your wetness from his chin and up his lips before bringing him in for a messy, passionate kiss. Without disconnecting your lips your turned him around and pushed him onto the couch, taking your seat on his lap, his arms wrapping around you instinctively. 

You wrapped your hand around his base, smiling down at him when he pulled away to whine. You lifted yourself up a bit and swiped him through the mess he made between your thighs. “Can I ride you, H?” You asked him, teasingly sweet. 

He threw his head back, “Christ, y’can do whatever you want to me, love.”

You kissed his neck and slid him into you, and his fingers dug into you as he let out a long moan. 

“God, you feel even better than I’d imagined.”

You tilted your head, starting to bounce and grind on him, “You’ve thought about this?” 

“Of course I have. Have you seen yourself?” You were about to push further when he slid a hand down to rub at your clit, making you gasp and grind down on him harder.

“Oh fuck, H.”

He grinned, thrusting into you. “That feel good?”

You nodded. “So good.” 

His hand was holding your hip as he bucked his hips into you. How he found your spot so quickly, you have no idea. You tilted your head back and he grabbed your neck gently, making your eyes widen as you looked down at him, noticing the dark look in his eyes as he watched you come undone on his cock.

When he noticed you getting close, he pulled you in to rest on him and your wrapped your arms around his shoulders, whimpering into his neck as he started to fuck you harder, his hips finding a smooth rhythm easily. 

You kissed his skin, marking it up as you sat there and took everything he was giving you. He was still sensitive from before, but he didn’t want to finish before you did, again. “Come on, pet. Give it to me. Just one more so I can fill you up.”

You groaned, your lips grazing his skin as your legs started to tremble, your walls clenching around him, coaxing him to tip over the edge with you. Your body shook as you whimpered, your body tensing.

“That’s it, just like that.” He grunted, thrusting a few more times before he released inside of you, the both of you moaning together.  

He wrapped his arms around you tight, holding you close as he thrusted slowly, making sure to empty himself out inside of you. You both sighed softly and you sat up. He looked up at you, pure adoration and awe in his eyes, his arms still holding you. You placed your hands on his shoulders. 

“Hi.” You smiled sheepishly.

He smiled back, kissing you softly before pulling back to look at you again, his head resting against the couch. “Hi.” 

You looked down, deciding to focus on his tattoos, suddenly nervous. “I’ve uh––sort of wanted to do that for a while.”

He unwound his arms to caress your back with his hands. “Mm me too.” He smiled when you looked up at him. 

“I really like you, H.” 

“Well I guess it’s a good thing that I like you too, then.” He squeezed you playfully. “Would you like to go out on a date this week?”

You smiled, leaning forward to kiss him again. “I’d love to.” 

[bestiesenpai]

ashnikko demidevil inspired blurbs

I just took lines from ashnikkos demidevil album and made little blurbs with whatever gave me inspo :) femme reader sometimes gender neutral in some spots, everyone is 18+

Content warnings: yandere-ness, stalking, mentions of heat(but not a/b/o), dubcon, master title(?), light angst? But it’s well deserved, blood

I don’t need a man I need a puppy, allergic to you every time you touch me -

Babysitting your friend's new puppy hybrid wasn’t a task you’d originally wanted. She had gotten him fairly recently, only to jet away to an impromptu vacation, leaving you the sole caretaker of the very large hybrid.

The only problem was you were allergic to dogs. Nothing terrible, but if he stayed around you too long, you’d start to get hives. And he understood that, politely keeping his distance as he roamed around your home.

“Getou, I’m home!” You announced after a long day of work, throwing open the front door only to be assaulted by a harsh musk in the air.

“Master!” Within moments of you kicking the door closed you were pounced on by the giant puppy that had been staying with you for a while. Your back hit the door hard but that wasn’t what you were focused on.

“G-Getou! What’re you doing?!” Your face was aflame not only from embarrassment but from the strong waves of heat rolling off his body. Getou had slid to his knees on the floor and shamelessly shoved his face into the crotch of your pants, his nose bumping right at your slit through your clothes.

“Master please...help…” He whined pitifully, rutting his hips against your leg. It was almost comical, the way he was hunched over you trying desperately to get stimulation to his leaking cock dangling between his legs.

Muddling through the murky memories of what your friend had told you about Getou, it took a few minutes to remember that she had mentioned something about him possibly going into heat.

“Are you…” It only took a glance down at his sweaty body covered only in a t-shirt to affirm that he was indeed in heat. He whined again, nearly sobbing as the harsh material of your bottoms rubbed against his sensitive cock. “What do I need to do?” The question made Getou’s head fly up, and the usual smirk on his face was gone, replaced with glassy eyes and quivering lips.

“I-I know you don’t like dogs but- but could you please just touch me?” Rubbing his face against your hip, Getou looked at you again. His hair and the fur on his ears was frizzy no doubt from sweat and his lips looked like he’d been biting them.

“Scoot back, puppy.” Placing a hand on his forehead, you gently pushed him back. The heat on Getou’s face was scalding, washing over him in a bright blush. Begrudgingly letting you go, Getou sat back on his knees, shoulders hunched but still managing to take up a good amount of space.

“Please help.” Balling up the edges of his shirt, Getou tucked the fabric under his chin and presented himself to you. His skin had a pale red flush, chest heaving and abs tight from trying to contain himself. Your eyes were drawn to his cock, leaking a generous amount of precum down the thick shaft.

“Puppy.” You said the word softly, and a warmth settled between your legs at seeing him look at you from under his lashes. The intense pheromones in the air were triggering your allergies and there was only one surefire way of getting rid of them.

“Master!” Getou choked out as another gush of precum rolled down his cock and his tail thumped against the ground as he writhed a little in agony. “Hurry, please!”

“Let’s go to the bedroom, puppy, it’ll be easier to help you there.” You’d thought about taking him to the couch, but the bed would be more comfortable in the long run.

And you didn’t need to utter the phrase twice. Getou leaped from the ground, his long tail swishing excitedly as he grabbed your wrist and ran to the bedroom. Pushing you onto the bed, he stripped himself in an instant.

“I-I’ll try not to be too rough, master.” He mumbled, climbing over you just as you’d started shrugging off your jacket. Nearly crushed by his entire body weight, Getou made sure to slide his cock right against your clothed cunt, rutting hard against you as soon as he could. “Unless you want it like that.”

I don’t need a man I need a rabbit, I need a new toy just to cleanse my palate -

Get a bunny hybrid, they said. It’ll be fun, they insisted. Bunnies are so cute and nice, they repeated over and over. Well yours surely wasn’t.

“Gojo! Get over here!” You were at your boiling point. All day Gojo had been causing mischief, leaving food out, popping out from behind corners and furniture and scaring you, pulling on your hair and clothes, asking never ending questions.

“Yes?” The lanky bunny hybrid with long white ears waltzed into the kitchen, not wearing his trademark dark glasses and leaving his bright blue eyes on display.

“What the fuck is this?” Glaring harshly at him, you pointed to the floury mess smeared on the kitchen counters and wall. It looked like he’d attempted to make some kind of dough but had given up halfway.

“Wasn’t me.” Gojo shrugged, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“Then who could it be, because it wasn’t me and we’re the only ones here.” Crossing your arms tightly over your chest, you glowered at his careless expression and slouched body. He looked like he wanted to be anywhere but here presented with the mess he’d undoubtedly made.

“Dunno.” He shrugged again, scratching behind his ear and avoiding eye contact with you.

“Gojo, clean it up.” Pinching the bridge of your nose, you took a deep breath.

“I didn’t do it!” Stamping his feet, Gojo shook his head and his ears flopped side to side.

“I’m not playing these games anymore! Just do what I ask for once!” It was a constant back and forth with the two of you, and while you had plenty of sweet moments to outweigh the bad, sometimes it wasn’t enough.

“(Y/N), c’mon!” Gojo whined and threw his head back. Staring at each other for a few minutes, your blood pressure only rose the longer he remained immobile.

“One.” You drew the word out, and Gojo’s head snapped to attention. Waiting a breath, he didn’t move any further.

“Two.” Saying it even slower this time, you could just barely see the twitch of his little puffball tail.

“Th-”

“Alright, I’ll clean it up!” Shooting over to the counter, Gojo huffed and puffed. “Even though it totally wasn’t me.”

“Whatever, the kitchen better be sparkling before I go to sleep.” Leaving the mess behind, you avoided Gojo for the rest of the day and didn’t see him as you got ready for bed. Checking the kitchen one last time, it was indeed back in pristine condition.

Going to sleep without saying goodnight to the pouty bunny you’d seen sulking in his room, you went to sleep alone. More often than not Gojo would sleep in bed with you, but whenever the two of you were snippy with each other he would sleep alone.

A hot, wet tongue between your legs roused you from sleep. You were absolutely sweating beneath the blankets that were drawn up to your chin and there was a Gojo sized lump underneath them.

“G-gojo…” Breathing deeply to try and push the sleepy fog from your mind, his name ended in a high whine as his tongue flicked against your clit. Wrapping his lips around it, Gojo sucked on the bud, keeping your legs spread out across his shoulders.

He got you to cum fairly quickly, having aroused you enough in sleep that when you awoke you were already on the brink. Squeezing his head between your thighs as you came on his tongue, you shuddered at the deep groan he let out.

“Ya know (Y/N),” He started, voice muffled by the blankets before he threw them off and sat up, “I’ve been thinkin’.” Settling between your legs, Gojo kept your ankles on his shoulders as he leaned over.

“Ab-about what?” Your mind was dizzy with pleasure, eyes only just able to focus on Gojo’s face above you. Even though this was the first time you two were doing something like this it still felt natural. Something you’d have to talk about in the morning, but natural nonetheless.

“You’re always so fucking snippy all the time-”

“Hey!”

“I wasn’t finished! You’re snippy all the time and you always get on my back for the stupidest shit.” He giggled at the glare you gave him, a light blush spreading across his cheeks. “But I’ve found the perfect solution to that!”

There wasn’t a chance to question him on what he meant. Gojo lined up his cock and pushed into your cunt, easily sliding in and bottoming out in one go. You hadn’t gotten a chance to look at it properly, but you knew it was easily the biggest you’d ever had.

“This is your solution?” You half panted, wrapping your arms around Gojo’s shoulders and whimpering as the tip of his cock hit your cervix.

“Yeah.” He was breathless as well, biting his lip as he slowly pulled out and lightly slapped his hips against yours. “I figure what better way to change your attitude than to fuck it out of you.” Grabbing onto your ankles, Gojo leaned nearly chest to chest with you.

His forehead brushed against yours, his snowy white hair tickling you. He did a few experimental half thrusts, getting the feel for the angle he was in and making any minor adjustments.

“And luckily for you, (Y/N), I’m a rabbit.” Immediately, Gojo picked up the pace of his hips, jackhammering into you at an insane speed and quite possibly bruising your hips in the process.

“Gojo!” Your voice caught in your throat at the sudden change, your body being folded in half and crushed into the mattress.

Gojo smirked at your shocked expression, dropping one hand to rub your clit. You let out a sharp cry, jolts of pleasure shooting up your spine. Your walls clamped down on him in an instant, making the drag of his cock just a fraction slower.

“I can go all night if I have to.”

Make your man call me daddy -

Was Itadori a little nervous? That went without saying, yes, he was very nervous. This was the first time he’d worn lingerie in public, hidden under his clothes but with the possibility of someone seeing if he bent over the wrong way.

He kept tugging down his hoodie and pulling up his pants, making sure no one saw the lacy thong he’d put on. He had on a bra as well, a lacy little number that was truly just a few tiny pieces of fabric sewn together.

Not to mention the prostate massager currently buried snugly in his ass, vibrating at random with varying intensities. Itadori almost regretted purchasing it as another powerful vibration went through him and nearly made him fall over in the street. But he didn’t want to let you down, so he endured the torture.

“I’m back.” Practically crawling through the threshold of the door, Itadori was nearly in tears at being back in the safety of your shared apartment. He had barely managed to complete all the tasks you’d given him, the little white plastic bag in his fingers crumpled to death with how strong his grip was.

“In here.” You called out from the bedroom and Itadori followed the sound until he got to you. Lounging at the foot of the bed, you looked nearly innocent with your legs crossed and foot swinging daintily.

Itadori didn’t speak as he entered the room, hovering by the doorway for a moment before fully entering and standing in front of you, head down and looking at your sock clad feet.

“How was it, baby?” Your question made him flinch and a hot burning washed over his face.

“I- it was- something.” He sighed, glancing up to see your quizzical expression for a fleeting moment.

“Did you keep it on like I told you to?”

“Of course!” Itadori nodded immediately, already grasping the hem of his hoodie and pulling it off to reveal the bra underneath, the fabric stretched tight against the barrel of his chest.

“Look at your nipples, they’re so cute.” You cooed, reaching up to press your finger onto one. It was perfectly perky, pebbled from the stimulation of rubbing against lace. Itadori shivered and leaned into your touch, biting his lip to stem any too loud moans.

Taking your hand away, your eyes flicked down to his pants and he quickly removed those as well.

“Oh baby, you shoulda told me you came! You made such a big mess!” It wasn’t surprising in the slightest to see the absolute mess of sticky cum smeared across Itadori’s cock, the thong he had on and his thighs.

“Sorry, I just didn’t want the fun to end.” He pouted, fully kicking off his pants and tossing them to the side with his hoodie.

“I bet the toy felt real nice, huh?” Sparing him a lecture, you reached out and swiped your finger through the cum coating the tip of Itadoris cock. He jolted at the contact, letting out a high whine and pressing his thighs together.

“Y-yeah, it did.” He managed to answer, somehow staying steady on his feet through the near overstimulation he was in. Gathering a bit of cum on your fingers, you presented it to him and Itadori obediently bent down, taking them in his mouth and sucking them clean.

“Good boy.” You grinned, running your free hand through his hair and letting him nuzzle into you. “Go pick out which toy you want next, you deserve a reward.” Freeing your fingers, Itadori bolted to the dresser drawer where you kept the toys.

“I choose this one.” In his hands was his favorite toy, a strap-on you’d bought together at a local sex shop.

“Alright, lay on the bed.” Taking the toy from him, you watched him lay down just like you’d taught him: face down in the pillows with his ass presented high in the air. Running a hand over his ass, you smiled down at him. “You’re being such a good boy today, baby.”

“Thank you.” Itadori replied, mouth muffled by the pillows as he tried to make eye contact with you. Quirking your head to the side, you gave him a silent look and he flushed, ears tinging a deep rouge. Licking his lips, Itadori looked away for a moment before shuffling a bit to make better eye contact with you. “Thank you, daddy.”

You don’t ever cross my mind, what’s a sheep to a tiger? -

It was laughable that he thought he was being so secretive, like you couldn’t tell you were being stalked when all you could feel were his eyes watching you at all times.

You’d already changed the locks after you caught him following you home.

Your curtains were always drawn closed, but that didn’t stop him from lurking outside, his shadow a constant presence outside your bedroom and bathroom windows.

You couldn’t even count the amount of unknown phone numbers you’d had to block in the past month alone along with deleting voicemails that only had slightly shaky breathing on the other side.

As far as stalkers went, Okkotsu Yuta wasn’t that great. You’d only briefly met him once at a meeting with other sorcerers and he had appeared weak and spineless before you, barely able to make eye contact despite his vast power.

“Fuck, you again?” You groan, seeing Yuta waiting by your door as you waltzed back from a run to the convenience store.

“H-hello.” His voice is just as meek as ever. You’ve seen him be confident and assured before when he didn’t know you were in the room, but as soon as he saw you it was like he became a totally different person and lost even the will to speak.

“Get a fucking job.” Not in the mood to entertain him, you slid closer to your front door. You weren’t scared about possibly having to get physical with him, you could surely hold your own against a grown man who actively stepped back as you got closer.

Worrying his lip and wringing his hands together, Yutas eyes darted everywhere, from the small plastic bag in your hand to your outfit and finally settling atop your head. His breathing was loud and unsteady and there was a light blush coating his cheeks.

“Are you just going to keep standing there like a loser?” Glaring at him, you sneered as his blush got deeper and there was a subtle squeeze in his thighs. “What do you even want? Gonna try to give me more flowers?”

“No.” Yuta answered immediately, the bitter memory of you stomping on the bouquet he bought you fresh in his mind.

“Then what? What does a little sheep like you want?” Crossing your arms, you tapped your foot impatiently.

“I-I just-” Blinking rapidly, there were a million thoughts going through Yutas head. He couldn’t find the words and his mouth was running dry. He nearly collapsed seeing you sigh and shake your head, about to fish out your keys and walk right past him. “W-wait!”

“What?”

“Do you- I just have to know, (Y/N), do you ever think about me like how I think about you?” Yuta looked so hopeful it was morphing into sick desperation in his features. His brows were knitted together so tightly that you knew there’d be lingering wrinkles there.

“Okkotsu.” Saying his name firmly and squaring your shoulders, you stared right into his eyes with a fierce look on your face. This was the first time you were ever making eye contact and to say it made you sick to your stomach was an understatement.

“Yes?” He whispered, licking his lips nervously.

“I have never thought about you in that way.” His smile fell as you spoke, and you could see his heart break behind his eyes. “In fact, any time I think of you I get sick. You disgust me.”

“Darling-”

“Shut the fuck up, don’t call me that.” You snapped, pushing him back as he tried to reach out and touch you. “Get the hell away from me and leave me alone, you’re pathetic and gross.”

“I love you! I love you so much, please!” Falling to his knees, Yuta reached his hands out to you, hoping you’d take them and soothe his soul from the pain you’d just inflicted.

“I’d rather be swallowed by a curse than have you as a lover.” The scornful look you sent Yuta made him physically wither away, flinching at the red hot anger brewing just beneath the surface. “Besides, I’m pretty sure people in love don’t stalk each other.”

“Darling...please…” There were tears dripping down his face that just made him look worse. Scoffing one last time at him, you shoved your key into the lock and swung open your front door.

“Okkotsu, if I ever see you in this neighborhood again, I’ll kill you myself. Rika be damned.” With those parting words, you slammed the door closed and locked it swiftly, immediately heading to the cabinet where you kept your alcohol. You surely needed a drink or three after dealing with the headache that was Okkotsu Yuta.

Just as you took the first sip, a ding sounded on your phone, an indication of a text.

“Oh brother.” Rolling your eyes, you already knew who it was from.

(Unknown number): I’ll never give up on you, I’ll love you until the very end

Blocked, deleted. Time for another drink.

I’m crazy but you like that -

Breaking up with your boyfriend was the right thing to do. Breaking up with your boyfriend was the right thing to do. Breaking up with your boyfriend was the right thing to do.

But why did it feel like the worst decision you’d ever made?

He was brash, controlling over every part of your life, demanding your undivided attention at all times. He claimed he only wanted what was best for you, but the final straw in your relationship came when you caught him installing a hidden camera in your bedroom. He was far too casual when he said the last one had broken.

So you had no choice but to break it off. Sukuna had taken it well at the time, calmly and silently grabbing the things he had over at your place and leaving with only a curt goodbye. And since then, you hadn’t seen him.

Emphasis being on seen.

His presence was still very much felt in your life. There was mail addressed to him showing up at your place. You’d get random unknown numbers calling you throughout the week, sometimes with voices you didn’t recognize trying to ask you questions and other times it was silent on the other line until whoever called hung up.

But all the strange occurrences were beginning to add up and it was starting to feel like Sukuna had never left in the first place. All the times you came home to a tidy front entryway when you knew you’d left in shambles before heading to work. The way your shower products seemed to diminish quicker even though you hadn’t changed your routine. And sometimes, you woke up in the middle of the night to a shadow just outside your window, darting away just before you could properly get up.

Changing the locks on your front door and adding locks on all the windows you could had given you much needed peace of mind. The strange things inside your house had stopped. There wasn’t anything you needed to purposefully ignore now. You could sit up a little straighter, breathe a little easier.

Waking up in the middle of the night to go pee, your mind was far away from reality. Thoughts of Sukuna were the last things on your mind, clouded with sleep and just ready to melt under the covers again.

Returning to your bedroom, however, you noticed a figure sitting on the bed that wasn’t there before. It didn’t take a genius to figure out it was Sukuna. Floundering back against the wall, a scream caught in your throat.

“The bed’s getting cold, angel. Come lie back down.” Sukuna said, a deranged smile on his face. His eyes were wide, drinking in your shaking form wildly.

“W-what’re you doing here?” You whispered, clutching the doorframe as you stumbled to it.

“I had to see my baby, I’ve been missing you.” Breathing hard through his nose, Sukuna patted the bed. “Come here, lemme look at you. It’s been a while since we’ve been face to face.”

“N...no. No!” Shaking your head, your own pupils were blown wide in fear. You watched every miniscule movement Sukuna made, from his breathing to how his fingers twitched. “Get out of here before I call the cops!”

“Aw, call the cops? But, how will you do that? Your phone is broken.”

“What?” Following Sukunas pointing finger, you gasped when you saw your phone smashed to bits on the floor by his feet.

“Now c’mere.” Patting the bed a little harder, Sukuna’s smile wavered. “You know I don’t like asking twice.”

“Sukuna please- please just leave.” There were hot tears burning your lash line, begging to be blinked away, but you refused to close your eyes. The smile on Sukuna’s face fell and rose again rapidly as whatever thoughts he had swirled in his head.

“(Y/N), I don’t think you understand.” Laughing under his breath, Sukuna stood up and stalked over to you.

“Don’t touch me!” You finally screamed but it was too late to try and fight him off. Sukuna grabbed your upper arm tightly and dragged you away from the door and to the bed. “Let me go, Sukuna! You’re crazy!”

“Crazy? Ha!” He barked, flopping back onto the bed and forcing you to straddle his lap. Slapping a hand onto your ass, Sukuna grabbed your jaw and tilted your face toward him. “If being in love with you makes me crazy, then so be it.” Staring at your face, Sukuna had a softer smile now. It was still unsettling, especially close up, and the way his eyes barely blinked had you on edge. “But don’t pretend you don’t like it at least a little bit.”

Wanna see me switch, get psycho like they say I am-

Your new boyfriend Nanami said he was just a salaryman, and why wouldn’t you believe him? He wore freshly pressed business suits everyday, sometimes carried around a briefcase, had the usual 9 to 5 schedule and always grumbled if he ever had to work overtime. Occasionally he met you for lunch and there he’d demand to talk about anything other than the work he did.

He never gave you the impression that he was anything but that, anything other than what he said he was. Whenever the two of you went out on dates, he was either getting off work or wore long sleeves.

This was the first time you were going to go over to his place for a date. Your relationship was starting to progress more romantically and while he’d seen the outside of your home after dropping you off from a date, this was the first time either of you would be in such a closed intimate setting.

His apartment was in a much more luxurious building than you’d first imagined. There was a doorman that had let you in, someone waiting at the front desk and even the elevator was luxurious with rich dark wood.

“Nanami, I’m here!” You called as you approached the door. Raising your fist to knock, you were surprised to see it cracked open, and there were loud noises just inside. Taking a moment to see if anyone had noticed your announcement, you took a chance and pushed open the door.

The entryway was beautifully decorated with Nanami’s shoes lined up neatly by the door. Just looking at the hallway, you could tell he had hired someone to decorate for him.

“Nanami?” You called again, hovering by the door. Whatever sound was in the other room paused for a moment, only to resume again in a more fervent way. “H-hello?” Sneaking down the hall, you came to the entryway to the lounge room and nearly collapsed.

The bloody, unconscious body was what you noticed first, followed by the blood stains speckled about the hardwood floor and reaching the walls. You saw Nanami second, standing over the body in what was once a plain white t-shirt now stained crimson. Third were the tattoos crawling up his arms, rich blacks and reds embedded into his flesh.

“You’re here early. How’d you get in?” Nanami asked in his usual monotone voice, only slightly breathless as he looked you over. He seemed unfazed by your sudden appearance, happy even, a small smile ticking up on the side of his mouth.

“The- the door was open.” You didn’t know where to look. You couldn’t possibly look Nanami in the eye, not with the way he looked so calm while standing over a body you were pretty sure was going cold. There was dark blood on his hands, nearly mixing in with his tattoos.

“Silly me, must not have pushed it closed all the way.” Chuckling to himself, Nanami straightened up and stepped over the body, taking a few steps over to you only to stop when he saw you scurry back. “(Y/N), don’t act like that.” He sighed like he was talking to a child.

“Tell me what’s going on.” You said, voice shaking more than you would have liked.

“Just doing a bit of overtime, that’s it.” Nanami shrugged indifferently, taking another step toward you.

“I thought you said you were a salaryman. What kind of overtime is this?” As he took more steps toward you, you stepped back until you hit the wall.

“I am a salaryman.”

“For the yakuza or something?!” It was a shot in the dark, really. You had no reason to believe he was in a gang other than the familiar tattoos that you’d seen on the news and the blood everywhere.

“As a matter of fact, yes.” He confirmed it with a straight face and you could tell he wasn’t lying. Nanami wasn’t one to lie or pull punches. Lifting up his hand, Nanami almost cupped your cheek but stopped short when he remembered the blood on his hands. “Let me go clean up, and we can talk about this more.”

As soon as he turned around, you fumbled to get your phone out of your pocket. There was no way you would be staying in this place any longer with him. Not only were you pretty sure he just killed someone, you had no idea what he could do to you.

“You wouldn’t be trying to call anyone, would you?” Nanami asked, turning on his heels by the body. Dropping your phone to the ground as soon as you were caught, you cursed under your breath as he faced you squarely.

“I like you a lot, (Y/N). Don’t mess this up. I’d hate to show you how deranged I can truly be.” The ghost of a smile graced his face and Nanami walked back over to you and grabbed your phone, immediately coating it in sticky blood. “Go wait in the den down the hall, I’ll be by in a moment.”

Slowly dragging your feet to the room in question, you waiting just inside for Nanami to arrive. The den was cozy, a plush warm toned loveseat facing a stone fireplace and a TV. This room, like the others, was undoubtedly decorated by a professional.

“Sorry to make you wait.” Nanami’s voice made you jump as he entered, walking past you and into the room. Sitting down on the loveseat in a fresh shirt and pants and clean skin, Nanami let out a pleased hum.

“Nanami…” Worrying your lip, you didn’t know what to do. You knew you should leave, but there wasn’t a chance in hell that your weak knees would make any sort of movement akin to an escape.

“Don’t be shy, (Y/N).” Spreading his legs, Nanami pat his thigh invitingly. “Come sit on my lap, a pretty little kitty like you deserves the best seat in the house.”

[yostresswritinggirl]

If you're plate isn't too full, can I request a couple of fluffy hc's about Albedo with a photographer! s/o? Like, his s/o enjoys taking pictures of the environment and etc, and even take pictures of Albedo whenever he just does stuff, and Albedo enjoys sketching then whenever they just do a whole picture spree- they even exchange pictures too

Yes, my plate is too full and I'm confused why you guys don't see the request closed thingy in my description. But does it look like I care? No, I miss writing for Albedo and you're getting Albedo NOW-

Sepia Times

Albedo with a Photographer!S/O headcanons/scenarios... (event masterlist)

Ever since Fontaine released their newest device called Kamera, you had been so adamant in getting ahold of one that you ended up going on a travel spree to the said nation. Not even waiting for the shipment to Mondstadt, you left a quickly written note of your whereabouts before you left.

Spontaneous as ever, Albedo thought to himself as his grip on the note tightens with worry.

Luckily, three days later, you hailed from the Hydro Archon's land with your newest prized possession in hand. Triumphant and giddy, both of your lives changed drastically from there.

Albedo first and foremost, almost dismantled your Kamera. Actually he may have already done so behind your back, he was just caught the last time. He was really curious of its machinations and wanted to reverse engineer it.

He only ever lived because he was fast enough to reassemble it and show you that it still works. If not, you were already charging at him to throw hands. You did not travel for three days just for the Kamera to be broken. Whether he found what he was looking for or not, he's not allowed to touch it until he gets his own when the supply reaches Mondstadt.

Knowing your excitement, Albedo takes a sudden day off to accompany you in your Kamera spree, his own canvas and easel under his arm to also channel his artistic energy.

In just a day you managed to take 20 pictures, about to run out of film in just a day. Everytime you snap a picture, you gravitate to where Albedo is stationed to show off what you got like a crow and its shiny rocks. He finds it very endearing, stating his honest honey-covered opinion that makes you overjoyed enough to energize you to snap another, better picture.

The Alchemist sees the appeal of the Kamera and how immediate the replication of the image is. But he still glorifies the art of painting. He may not be able to capture constantly moving subjects but he can capture any detail he wants emphasized unlike the limited rasterization of a photo like that.

He watches you from afar as you skip over to different places and objects, face blooming with wonder as you position your device to snap. He dons a smile when you pull out the photo and wait for the image to materialize, and produce a chuckle when you sprint over to him to show the product. It's like your routine you developed in just a day.

So at times when he needs it the most, he will steal borrow your Kamera to snap a quick picture of something fast moving that he needs to observe immediately or wish to sketch/paint in detail in the future. One of the photos he had hidden for himself had a picture of you in your natural photographer environment as you dash around to look for a scene to capture while you wait.

What's it for? Well he made it into a more intricate painting during his spare time, presenting it to you with the little image taped at the top right corner. It was so beautiful that when outsiders were to see it after they were granted to access his office/laboratory, they always ask for the price for it. Something he adamantly refuses with the coldest glare the Alchemist can make. The negotiations usually end there.

Whenever he was far and you couldn't follow, like Dragonspine for example (the Kamera was still in development so cold temperatures might risk both the device and the processing), you always send him a picture for his thoughts. Either by asking Sucrose, Timaeus or the Traveler if they were en route to his camp, of course.

As you send one to him daily, Albedo started to look forward to your little mail every time. They range from very beautiful sights he hasn't seen before, images of the people of Mond who looks to be greeting him, or of you and the things that would remind him of you.

He keeps a haphazardly strewn journal for it, and in his camp was a board of his favorite picks, and all images of you are tacked on it. The Traveler enjoys watching his cold teal eyes light up whenever he brings the daily image, watching the picture board grow as Albedo tacks the latest one in with obvious pride and joy.

When he comes back to Mond, he brings with him his most beautiful piece from Dragonspine. You'd know it's special because everything is painted in detail, even the most unimportant parts of it. It's his gift for your little photo exchange and you have it put up on wall somewhere in your house.

When he gets his own Kamera, it was his turn to drag you to his photography spree. A little one-sided competition happens between you two where you try to one up the quality of his pictures, sometimes successful and sometimes you don't really... understand what he's doing, as he captures the strangest images.

Albedo uses his solar isotoma when you want to use it for better angles. Very supportive, as you'd hear a snap from beneath as you position your own Kamera.

The whole of Mond muses at both of your antics; as you two would most likely do the finger frame thingy impulsively when seeing something worth the attention, the people around you would chuckle at how cute you two looked, focused on your own little world.

He always gifts you extra films or anything related to photography when he can. Since he barely has time to go out sometimes, he has many backup gifts in bulk to whip out if ever he wants to pamper you with his material affection. Albedo is hyperaware of your hyperfixation and will always bring films the moment you run out, like foresight.

You can barely understand Albedo, despite the closeness you two had, he was still an enigma in most occasions. This was one of them. He had been binging on photography lately and everytime you look through the photos he captured, it didn't really make sense. The most random pictures that you wouldn't even dare use a film on strewn here and there, sometimes the photo is even cut off, and you'd think it was a mistake until he started organizing them in a system only he knows.

When you finally gathered up the courage to ask what all of it was about for, you were given a smile as cryptic as his album.

But as he pulls your hand with an excitement you've only seen when his chemical solution produces the expected buff, you somehow deduced that today would be the day you'd find out what the heck he was up to.

"It took longer than I expected it to be," he says as he starts unlocking a room in the Knights of Favonius HQ that you've never been in before, "but the end result was worth it."

Your confusion only grows as you were met with a face full of hanging pictures, most of it you recognize. Leaning over some and looking up on the higher ones, the amount of string and the confusing way they were set up, amazes you still with the amount of effort he had been using on such a big project.

Your untrained eyes loosely guess around 1000 films used for this.

The glass double doors that makes it way to the balcony opens loudly behind you. "Come here," you turn to see Albedo's silhouette open his arms against the setting sun behind him. "You're supposed to look at it from this distance." His arms engulfs you gently when you moved over, sending a gentle squeeze before he turns you back around to see the hanging pictures.

You gasp.

The depth and the splash of colors from this distance, aided with the sun, turned the hanging collage into an expertly placed collage as it shows you the bigger picture: a mold of your face of the first sketch Albedo made when you first met each other. The angles and colors measured to the dot to capture and replicate your beauty.

You feel his lips kiss the back of your head as you stared in awe.

Impromptu Albedo fluff yey

@albaedhoe @struggljng @heisenwurst @moaa @dandelion-dreams @witchsungie @lehra @zelos-simp @legionqueensav @snackgod @rxsalinee @cala-ran @wind-wheel @lilydewi22 @yellowflowre @traveler-lumine @nonniechan @creation-magician @hanniejji

[dirtykpopsnaps]

I Demand Attention - Bang Chan smut

Warnings: This fic contains 18+ material. Anyone under 18 seen interacting with this fic will be blocked!!

Contains: trans!male reader (female anatomy). (Kind of) sir kink. unprotected fucking (he pulls out, but still...wrap it up). (kind of) mirror kink (they watch themselves in the mirror). Size kink. Belly bulge kink. I think that’s it??

Requested: yes

Words: 1, 552

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I sigh softly, leaning my head back against the arm rest of the couch. I pull lightly at the sleeves of my hoodie, making sure they’re covering my hands. Well, technically it’s Chan’s hoodie, but it’s mine now. All around me, the studio is quiet other than Chan tapping away at his computer. That’s how it’s been for the passed few hours. I’ve been sitting on the couch and waiting for Chan to finish, but he just keeps working.

Pouting softly, I cross my arms over my chest. When I had come to the studio wearing his hoodie, I was looking for him to fuck me. Chan always loves when I wear his clothes. He says he loves how I completely drown in them. But, he’s too busy working at the moment to even pay attention to me. His headphones are on as he works away at one of the newest songs for the upcoming album. I groan to myself, leaning dramatically across the arm rest to try and get his attention. Yet again, he doesn’t even seem to hear me and just keeps working. I narrow my eyes at his back, determined to get his attention.

Getting up from the couch, I walk over to him. Even standing right next to him, Chan doesn’t turn his attention to me at all. I push on the side of his chair to get it to roll away from the desk and Chan gives me a surprised look, taking off his headphones. “What, baby boy?” He asks, tilting his head and finally looking at me.

“I want attention,” I say, pushing out my bottom lip and pouting. Chan’s eyes flick back and forth between his computer screen and me.

“Baby, you know I’m...” he starts, gesturing towards the screen again.

Rolling my eyes, I straddle his lap and sit down. I rest my head on his shoulder and huff. “Fine then, work. Just ignore your needy baby. That’s fine,” I say dramatically. Chan sighs at me, shaking his head.

“You’re gonna try and distract me,” he groans, leaning back to look at me.

“No, no, go ahead. Work away. Just let your baby be needy,” I sigh. Chan rolls his eyes at me, a frown settling on his features.

“Baby, you know I need to work. I will give you attention once I’m done,” he promises. I huff in annoyance, glaring at the opposite wall.

“I’ve been here for three hours and you haven’t finished. How long is it gonna take?” I whine.

“Not much longer,” he tells me. I groan loudly, sitting up a little bit.

“You *always* say that,” I complain.

“And we always take longer because you try and distract me,” he reminds me, his voice starting to show signs of irritation.

Sighing again, I start to get up from his lap, but Chan holds my hips and pulls me back down. “But, fine. If you’re so needy, I’ll stop working here, but you need to learn that you shouldn’t distract me,” he says. I pout at him, crossing my arms over my chest and Chan narrows his eyes at me. Looking into his eyes, I start to feel a little shy. He does look pretty upset.

“N-Never mind...I can wait,” I say, trying to get up again, but Chan holds me down.

“Oh, no, you’re so needy, baby. I should be a good boyfriend and give you attention,” he says mockingly. I bite my lip lightly, fighting with myself. I really want to play with him, but I know that I’m probably going to be punished.

Finally, I sigh and nod my head. “Please play with me,” I whine softly.

“Why so quiet now? You were so demanding a minute ago,” Chan smirks.

“I...I just want you to play with me,” I pout, trying to speak up.

“Aww, my little sub always gets so soft when he gets in trouble,” Chan mocks, squeezing my face lightly. I pout, pushing away his hand and he glares at me, grabbing my wrist. “Be good. Now,” he says strictly. I look down at my lap and nod my head softly.

“Yes, sir,” I mumble softly.

“Good. Now get up a strip,” Chan says, gesturing me to get up.

Slowly, I climb off his lap and begin stripping off my clothes. Soon enough, there’s a small pile of my clothes on the ground. When I’m completely naked, I look back at my boyfriend. While I was stripping, he pulled down his pants and boxers. When he sees me looking, he smirks and motions me over. I move slowly and stand in front of him, my hands held together in front of me. “Don’t be shy, baby boy. Turn around,” he says sweetly, gesturing me towards his desk. I do as I’m told and turn around, my hands holding tightly to the edge of the desk.

For a few seconds, I don’t feel anything, then suddenly Chan’s finger is prodding at my entrance. I gasp lightly, my grip tightening in surprise. Forcing myself to relax, I let out a soft sigh as his finger settles into me and he starts pumping in and out. Slowly, he works me open. He adds another finger soon after, scissoring them so that I’ll be able to take his cock easily. With his other hand, he rubs light circles on my clit and I gasp, biting my lip to try and hold in the sounds.

Just as I feel myself starting to get to the edge, Chan pulls away. I whine in frustration, but he just tsks at me. “Don’t whine, baby. I’m gonna fuck you. Be patient,” he tells me. Chan stands up and I feel his front pressed against my back. He positions himself at my entrance, slowly sinking into me inch by inch. Chan groans softly as he bottoms out and I sigh contentedly, watching his expressions in the mirror against the wall. He eyes are screwed up as he tries to get used to my warmth wrapped around him.

For a few seconds, Chan keeps his eyes shut. “You’re so fucking tight,” he groans, his grip on my hips tightening.

“Please move,” I moan softly, my grip on the edge of the desk flexing. Slowly, Chan pulls out and begins thrusting his cock in and out of me. I lean my head back against his shoulder, moaning as the pleasure starts to fill my body. Chan wraps his arm around my stomach, holding me close to his chest. With his other hand, he starts rubbing quick circles on my clit again. I jolt in his arms and he just chuckles lightly on my ear.

“Does that feel good, baby?” He asks, snapping his hips into me. I nod my head lightly, peeling my eyes open again and looking at the mirror.

In the mirror, Chan’s gaze meets mine and he smirks. “Do you like watching me fuck you? Watching as that little belly bulge appears and disappears?” He asks, nipping lightly at the shell of my ear.

“Y-Yes, I love it,” I moan, leaning back to pull at his hair.

“I love it, too. You’re so little compared to me. Love seeing you in my clothes. Love seeing how little your hand is in mine. And I *love* seeing my cock make that little bulge in your belly,” he chuckles. I whine softly, squeezing my eyes shut as the pleasure comes in waves. Chan chuckles at me, rubbing his thumb against my cheek. “Ah-Ah, baby. I want your eyes open when you come for me,” he tells me softly.

Slowly, I peel my eyes open. Immediately, they’re drawn to the mirror and Chan flashes a smile. Seconds later, he thrusts roughly into me and I gasp, clutching the edge of the desk again. The circles on my clit quicken and my body jolts as the pleasure overtakes me. “Sir, I-I’m gonna come!” I moan.

“Come for me, baby boy,” he moans. I allow myself to fall over the edge and involuntarily clench around him. Chan groans softly, his hold around my waist tightening for a second. He continues to thrust up into me and, just when I still to feel a little overstimulated, he pulls out. I can hear him pumping his cock and, seconds later, I feel his cum against my back.

The both of us take a moment to catch our breaths again before Chan steps away. I look over my shoulder at him, whining softly. He just chuckles at me, shaking his head. “I’m just getting a tissue, baby. Don’t want the cum to dry on your back,” he tells me. I sigh softly and lean against the desk, waiting for him to come back. When he comes back, Chan cleans the cum off my back then helps me get dressed again. I pull his hoodie over my head and he smiles fondly. “Let’s go back to the dorm,” he smiles, holding his hand out.

Happily, I grab my stuff and take his hand. Chan makes sure that he’s grabbed everything that he needs, then he closes the door and we head out. “Sir...thank you for the attention,” I smile softly, my face going a little red. Chan laughs, kissing my head lightly.

“Of course, baby boy. I’ll always give you attention.”

[corpsedaydream]

point of view

corpse husband x reader

word count: 2.4k

_______________________________

pov

Growing up, you’d spent so many afternoon and nights in your childhood bedroom scribbling down notes into diaries. Some of it was reality, some of it was fantasy, but all of it was you. Once you were done, you would hide the journals all over your room, they were for your eyes only but your brother use to have a habit of finding them and reading them and teasing you if you happened to write about a boy you had a crush on.

Ironically, when you’d first started talking to Corpse, before he became your boyfriend, your brother had caught you sending him some heart emojis, and even as grown ups, he still teased you about it.

You weren’t surprised that hadn’t changed, but something that did change that did take you by surprise is how that hobby of writing brought you to where you were in your career.

You were on your way to your boyfriends place and in the passenger seat of your car was a CD. In a very early 2000s style, there was writing scribbled onto it done with a black sharpie and the letters read, ‘POV demo’. You could feel nervous butterflies gathering in your stomach as you neared closer and closer to Corpse’s place.

You’d had an incredible past few days. Writing always felt like something for fun, never something that would actually be a career prospect but when your YouTube videos of you sharing your original song ideas started to take off, people started to notice. Someone in particular being Ariana Grande. She’d fallen in love with your writing style and wanted to work with you to create a song for her next album, so of course you graciously and excitedly agreed.

It seemed you and Ariana were in similar phases of your life, both falling in love with someone who seemed so perfect for you. So the song came so easily for you, all you had to do was think of Corpse.

Your car came to a stop out the front of his place and you took in a few deep breaths as you unbuckled your seatbelt and picked up the CD from beside you. You’d written about Corpse before, but never something that was as confessional and honest as this song was.

Will he even like it? You thought to yourself and for a second you contemplated placing the CD under your car to run over it to destroy it. But you wanted him to hear it before it was released to the world. So with one last deep breath you shook your head to try to send the nervous thoughts to the back part of your brain as you exited your car with the disc that had the song on it in hand.

The time between knocking on his front door and him coming to open it had never felt this long before. You were chewing on your bottom lip and your forefinger was picking at the corner of your thumb nail as you anxiously waited. Then when the door opened, you spoke up before Corpse even had a chance to greet you. “I have a surprise for you!” You blurted out as you stepped inside and avoided bumping into him.

Corpse had a humoured yet confused expression as he watched you slip past him, usually you greeted each other with an exchange of touch, but you were barely looking at him right now and seemingly keeping your distance. “What-”

“No, please don’t say anything.” You held your hand up that wasn’t holding the CD as a signal to shoosh your boyfriend. “I have to show you right now before I change my mind.” You were visibly nervous, he could see it so clearly in you right now, so he listened and kept quiet. He wanted you to feel okay, but now you had spiked his curiosity, he had to know what the surprise was. “Can I put a disc in this?” You asked as you walked to a laptop that sat on his coffee table and sat down on the floor to place the CD beside it so you could inspect.

“A disc for what?” He was puzzled by the question.

“Just answer!” You didn’t mean to snap at him, this was supposed to be a good surprise, but god your heart was beating so fast and it felt like it was lodged in your throat. You were about to spill your heart out to him like you never had before and you were terrified of a potential rejection if he thought it was too much. Instead of questioning or arguing or snapping back at you, he neared you instead. Corpse could see your hands shaking a little and you were hunched in on yourself. Usually you were the confident one of the two of you so seeing you in this insecure state was something he wasn’t exactly used to. However, he had seen it before, but only a very few times. As confident and bright as you were, he’d been slowly learning your more deep seeded fears and vulnerabilities, so he was learning how to handle it when you were in a state like this.

“Hey,” He called for your attention as he crouched down beside you his voice ever so calm, one of his hands coming to land on the small of your back and his other grabbed hold of one of your hands. “Look at me.”  Finally, you did. With your bottom lip caught between your teeth you turned your head and found his gaze, your eyes flickered between his, you were still so nervous. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Really?”

“I mean, yeah, I am. I’m just-” You cut yourself off and you broke away from his gaze.

“Just what?”

“Scared.”

At that answer, his hand on your back rounded around you further as he let go of your hand so he could instead shift closer to you again and use that hand to bring it to the side of your face, encouraging you to turn to him again. “Why are you scared?”

“I’ve really just got to show you this.” Was the only answer you could give him without spoiling what the surprise was.

“Do you want to?” How badly he wanted to know what the surprise was, but he wouldn’t push for it if it caused you to be more on edge.

“Yeah.” You answered him and he smiled before leaning in to kiss you.

“Go ahead then, baby.” Corpse told you after you broke apart, his hands falling from you as you scooted forward to be in front of the laptop and he leant back against the couch.

One last time, you looked back at him over your shoulder, you were more in front of him now, but he was still within an arms length. He nodded fervently at you, watching with interest as turned your attention back to the laptop and opened the device and inserted the disc. With a few clicks, the beginning of the song started to play and you dropped your vision to your hands that sat in your lap before the first lyrics were sung.

It's like you got superpowers Turn my minutes into hours You got more than 20-20, babe

Hearing this, Corpse sucked in a quick breath, it was clicking in his mind what the surprise was.

Made of glass the way you see through me

He directed his gaze to the back of your head, how he wished he could see your face right now, but he knew you must have needed to be facing away from him right now to feel okay with doing this.

You know me better than I do Can't seem to keep nothing from you How you touch my soul from the outside? Permeate my ego and my pride

You spent so much time laughing and joking around, you were a very playful person and sometimes, you found it hard to get more serious. Corpse had been one of the only people to be able to see through this, to be able to reach a more exposed part of you. And as he listened to those lyrics, he recounted a time the two of you were wine drunk and and it was one of the first times you’d ever really opened up to him. But then right after, you’d attempted to laugh it off and he stopped you and made you feel okay with not having to seem like you were at 100% all the time, especially with him.

I wanna love me The way that you love me Ooh, for all of my pretty And all of my ugly too I'd love to see me from your point of view I wanna trust me The way that you trust me Ooh, 'cause nobody ever loved me like you do I'd love to see me from your point of view

The chorus played and Corpse couldn’t help himself, he leant forward slightly to make contact with your elbow. And even though nothing was said, you understood fully what he wanted, because you did too. Your hand left your lap and without turning your head towards him, you reached your arm behind you, he grabbed your hand once more, intertwining your fingers with his.

I'm gеtting used to receiving Still gеtting good at not leaving I'ma love you even though I'm scared

These lyrics caused his hand to squeeze tighter around yours. It was only a few weeks ago the two of you had a pretty big fight, although it was only born out of fear and it ended in tears. When you were apologising, you’d told him you were so happy he was still with you and you’d also opened up to him about how with every past relationship, you never let yourself get in too deep, you always made a run for it before your heart was too in it. But you didn’t want that to happen with Corpse.

Learning to be grateful for myself You love my lips 'cause they say the Things we've always been afraid of I can feel it starting to subside Learning to believe in what is mine

The chorus began to play again and Corpse tugged on your hand.

I wanna love me The way that you love me Ooh, for all of my pretty And all of my ugly too I'd love to see me from your point of view

At first, you didn’t respond, and he really didn’t want to interrupt the song, but he wanted you to be in his arms so badly. “Come here.” He tugged again and this time, you finally moved. Your hands broke apart as you scooted back to sit beside him where he was still leaning against the couch and as soon as you were there, his arms came around you, pulling you in so close.

I wanna trust me The way that you trust me Ooh, 'cause nobody ever loved me like you do I'd love to see me from your point of view

Your heart was beating so hard and your cheeks were flushed as you nestled your head into his neck.

I couldn't believe it, or see it for myself Know I be impatient, but now I'm out here Falling, falling, frozen, slowly thawing, got me right

His arms were around you so tight and your emotions were running so high. Tears were pooling in your eyes as your hand grabbed ahold of his shirt, the material pulling taut as your hand tightened into a fist over the material.

I won't keep you waiting All my baggage fading, safely And if my eyes deceive me Won't let them stray too far away

Corpse turned his head in order to be able to press his lips against your forehead as the chorus begun to play out one last time.

I wanna love me The way that you love me Ooh, for all of my pretty And all of my ugly too

Just like earlier, one of his hands would come to cup around the side of your face, encouraging you to look at him again. With his aid, you’d move your head out from the hiding spot you’d found in the form of his neck.

I'd love to see me from your point of view

Corpse swiped his thumb across your cheeks upon seeing that a few tears had spilled over the edges of your eyelids, you were still keeping your eyesight down.

I wanna trust me, ooh The way that you trust me, baby

He’d dip his head then, still trying to connect eye contact. You’d glance up and much to your surprise, tears had begun to bubble in Corpse’s eyes too. You’d let out the softest gasp and your hand would lift to grab a hold of his wrist of his hand that was still cradling the side of your face.

'Cause nobody ever loved me like you do

As the songs last lines were playing, the two of you moved your faces closer together to meet for a passionate kiss.

I'd love to see me from your point of view

The both of you poured every emotion you were currently feeling into the physical display of love and adoration. Deepening the kiss, you’d kneel up briefly so you could climb into his lap and sling your arms around his neck and his arm would tighten around you.

When you both parted to catch a breath, you’d have your foreheads resting against one another until you lift your head back up to look at Corpse properly.

“Did you like it?”

He smiled and shook his head in disbelief at your question, how could you not know that the answer already? “I loved it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

“It’s everything I’ve always wanted to say to you.” Yet again, you moved your eyes away from his.

He could see that still, you were feeling vulnerable about sharing the song with him. “Baby,” And once again, he was using his hand against the side of your face to coax your eyesight back to his. “It was perfect.” He assured you and he would feel so pleased to finally see a smile appearing on your face. “Should we only communicate in songs now?” He’d joke and he’d feel even more delighted to hear you laugh.

“I love you.” You’d tell him.

“I love you, too.” He’d reply.

“No, like, I really fucking love you.”

“I get it, because I really fucking love you.”

The both of you would laugh again and when it subsided, you shared another kiss.

“Play the song again.”

[kindahoping4forever]

A Little Bit Scandalous, Baby Don’t Let Them See It // Ashton Irwin

There’s really not much explanation for this one. Last month when the content started dropping from Calum’s birthday weekend at The Invisible House, my clown brain took over and I got an idea that just wouldn’t leave. I then unfortunately developed a migraine that also wouldn’t leave (lol) so I didn’t get to write this for a few weeks but once I sat down to do it, it was done in basically a day. I don’t often do plotless smut but I’ve decided to own this filth for what it is. Thanks to @cal-puddies​​ for convincing me not to add 2500 more words of justification and also for letting me know when I was describing this idea that I “went a little too Daddy” and it needed to be an Ash story even though it was about Cal’s birthday 😂

Warnings: Boyfriend!Ash meets Dom!Ash vibes including a fair amount of dirty talk, a few uses of “Daddy,” some general manhandling and loving roughness. Unprotected sex in an established relationship, brief oral sex on a male, hints of voyeurism/exhibitionism

Word Count: 2.8k

Masterlist  // Ko-Fi linked above (New taglist sign-up coming soon)

Let  me  know  what  you  think!

“The bedrooms are all clear!”

“Well, the whole house is all clear, babe, that’s kind of the point.”

“That joke hasn’t gotten any funnier since the first time you tried it, Ash.”

Your boyfriend rushes up behind you and slides his hands into the back pockets of your jeans, squeezing your ass through the material. “You’ve missed my jokes and you know it,” he insists, his loud laugh echoing through the seemingly endless room.

You hate to admit it but he wasn’t entirely wrong. You and Ashton hadn’t seen each other very much lately; your days were spent working from home, too exhausted on most days to make it over to his place for a visit while his schedule was consumed by the band starting work on their new album.

The guys had recently taken to going on mini getaways out to the desert to work; it was clear they missed travelling together as much as they missed playing music and this was a fun and safe way for them to combine the two amidst the ongoing lockdown. When they decided to plan their latest session for the week of Calum’s birthday and make it a “family trip” by inviting their significant others to join, you were thrilled.

Through some of her connections, Crystal was able to book a trendy lodging known as The Invisible House. With a pool running alongside the living area, floor to ceiling glass windows and an entirely mirrored exterior, the property was truly a sight to behold. You drove yourself out to Joshua Tree on Friday after work and spent the weekend lounging, catching up and exploring with everybody.

For you, the one flaw in the house’s design was that it was built as one long continuous rectangle, with only the occasional partition used to divide rooms, so as not to disrupt the lush views. While the desert surroundings were undeniably gorgeous, you would’ve much rather been surrounded by Ashton. You assumed a weekend away would’ve meant some quality time getting reacquainted with each other’s bodies but with your friends always in such close proximity, the opportunity had not presented itself.

Until now, you think to yourself. Everyone was outside chatting and packing up the cars while you and Ash were assigned to do a walkthrough of the house to make sure nobody had left anything behind. Sierra and Luke had popped in about 10 minutes ago to say goodbye and from where you’re standing, you can see Calum, Crystal and Michael still trying to divide up their luggage and the band’s equipment between their cars.

You spin around in Ash’s hold, wrapping your arms around his neck and planting a heated kiss on him. You can tell he’s momentarily taken by surprise but he quickly responds to your passion, tangling his tongue with yours, letting his hands wander around your body.

“So then… you have missed my jokes?” He chuckles when you pull away, attaching your mouth to his neck.

You roll your eyes amusedly, moving to bite gently at his earlobe, tongue teasing around his earring. “We’re finally alone,” you say suggestively, hoping he’ll understand your meaning.

He quirks an eyebrow at you. “Uh-huh,” he says pointedly, pressing you tighter against him. “And I suppose that’s giving you ideas, isn’t it, baby?”

You smile coyly, holding his hands on you. “Well… I don’t know about you but I was certainly hoping we’d get some time together this weekend. It’s been a while, we’ve been so busy.”

Ashton grins. “Well… I did offer to take care of you last night.”

You give him A Look. “Sliding your hand down my pajama pants and offering to rub one out for me wasn’t really what I had in mind,” you counter wryly. “All while our friends were just a few feet away.”

A mischievous look crosses his face. “Our friends are just a few feet away now and you’re still coming on to me,” he points out, gesturing towards the vast windows surrounding you.

“It’s different. We’re in here, they’re out there. They can’t see us.”

He smirks at your statement, almost as if he was hoping you'd say that. “Is that so?”

“It’s mirrored glass,” you shrug impatiently, pulling his hand in the direction of the bedrooms.

Ash clearly has other plans, pulling you back into him and kissing you so deeply your head spins. You don’t realize he’s walking you across the room until you feel your back hit the cool glass of the window. You pull away to ask what he’s up to but can’t quite find your words, the mark he’s sucking into your neck and the way his hands are gripping your tits under your shirt proving to be quite the distraction.

“Let’s go, baby,” you pant, squeezing his arms. “We don’t have a lot of time but I need you.”

He turns you around and presses you against the glass, rocking his hips against you, letting you feel that your desire is reciprocated. “If you’re so sure no one can see us, what’s wrong with me taking you right here?”

You recognize the edge in his voice and your body responds with a shiver; he always knows what you need before you do. “I’d like that,” you reply earnestly.

You hear the two forceful spanks his hand gives you before you feel them and you gasp when the sting registers. “I’ll fuckin’ bet you would... get my cock in you, get to fill your incessant need for attention by pretending that everyone can see what a filthy girl you are for me,” he taunts, undoing his belt. “But you’ll get off knowing that in reality I’m still the only one who gets to see you like that, isn’t that right, baby girl?”

You turn to face him, chest heaving but offering him a wide grin. It’s been too long since he’s had you like this. “Missed you, Daddy.”

“We’ll see about that,” he teases, leaning in to kiss you hard. He tugs at your shirt and pants as he pulls away. “Off.”

You purse your lips, not wanting to argue but also not seeing the point in getting undressed for what should be a quickie.

Before you can question him, Ashton explains. “If we’re gonna do this, we’re gonna do this right and that means you naked for me. Now.”

You bite your lip to keep from moaning as you watch him pull his cock out of his fly and begin stroking. You lock eyes with him before you start taking your clothes off but you notice his gaze roaming up and down your body as you disrobe. You can’t remember the last time you felt so powerful.

You stand bare in front of him, waiting for whatever comes next. It’s taking everything in you not to reach down and relieve some of the tension building between your legs but you know better.

He walks over to you, hard cock out and shamelessly demanding attention, distracting from his still fully clothed body. He wraps his hand around the back of your neck, his kiss much lighter on your lips than you expect, making you whimper with need. His tongue has just finished tracing over your bottom lip when he leans over to your ear and whispers the words you'd been hoping you'd earned: "Good girl."

As soon as the words leave his mouth, he turns you back around and you quickly throw your hands out to brace against the glass, spreading your legs, hoping that your eager cooperation will win you some favor with him.

It’s bizarre looking out the window and seeing your trio of friends across from you, laughing and organizing their belongings while Ashton is breathing heavy on your neck, rutting between your ass cheeks a few times before dragging his fingers through your wetness, using it to slick up his cock.

“I’d remind you we need to make this quick but you’re so fuckin’ wet for me, I know it’s not gonna take much to make this needy pussy cum, is it, baby girl?”

You feel yourself throb in response and before you can even fathom responding, he’s sliding into you and suddenly that’s the only thing that matters. You hang your head and let out a long, low groan. “Yessss… fuck,” you moan as he slowly moves in and out of you, giving you a little more of his length each time.

“How long has it been, baby? You sure you can still take all of me?” He teases, leaning to rub at your clit a few times, enjoying the way it makes you squirm.

You breathe deep, appreciating the way he’s stretching you out, the way you always think you remember how good he feels inside you, only to realize that no memory even comes close to the reality of being wrapped around his cock. “Always feels like it’s been too long when you’re not in me, Daddy,” you pant, moving your hips to let him know you’re ready for more. “Need you all the time.”

“I know, baby,” he says sweetly, running his hand slowly down your back with a surprising gentleness. “Gonna give my baby girl what she needs.”

Ash quickly sets about making good on that promise, setting an ambitious pace for himself as he drives his cock inside you hard and deep. You can vaguely see your own reflection in the window and find yourself hypnotized by the way you respond to him; how your face contorts when he hits just where you want him to, the way your tits bounce as he moves against you, the force with which your entire body is propelled by his thrusts.

You feel the beginnings of something stirring in your core and without giving it a second thought, you slide a hand down to your clit, circling it to help yourself along. You’re alerted that Ashton has noticed your choice when you feel his hand tangle in your hair and yank your head back towards him.

“I don’t remember asking for help, baby girl,” he notes sternly. “You were being so good for me until now, too.” He pulls out and you whimper as your pussy continues to thrum, having been so close to climax but now so devastatingly empty.

“Don’t fuckin’ whine, just because you can’t behave doesn’t mean I'm gonna miss out on this pretty pussy makin’ me cum.”

He walks you closer to the glass, pressing your body up against the window and pinning your arms above your head before he pushes back in. He uses one hand to hold the both of yours while his other snakes around to toy with your clit. “How’s this, baby? Were you actually worried I wasn’t gonna make you cum? Disappointed you think I’d let you down like that,” he mocks, faux guilt dripping from his voice.

“No, Daddy, you’re always so good to me,” you murmur, senses overwhelmed. “It just felt so good… got too excited.”

“Fuckin’ impatient is what you got,” he corrects, nipping at your shoulder.

His hips are hitting into you at that delicious angle again and you both can tell that the rhythm he’s found on your clit is going to send you over the edge fairly soon. You hear him choke back what sounds like a genuine laugh and your eyes open in confusion, wondering what could have caused his reaction.

You hold your breath as Michael and Calum walk closer to the window you're about to cum up against. Your eyes search the landscape and you see Crystal in the distance, leaning on the car, taking a phone call. The guys must have decided to give her some privacy and are now hanging out and chatting by the rocks straight in front of you.

Your mind races as you try to recall with certainty if you noticed any visibility when you and the girls were out there taking pictures together the other day. It just looked like a mirror from that side… right?

It’s as if Ash can read your mind as he taunts, “Mirrored glass, right, baby? No way they can see how fuckin’ greedy you get when you have to go a few days without my cock.” He’s breathing heavy now too, clearly excited by the thought of a potential audience. “Couldn’t even wait a few more hours for me to get you alone, needed it so bad you’re letting me have you up against the glass with everyone right there… my greedy girl, what would they think?”

It’s hard to say if it’s because of the questionable situation or Ashton’s teasing words but you feel yourself getting close again and you start to moan. Loudly.

“Just because they can’t see you doesn’t mean they can’t hear you, baby. You really want them to know how bad you want it?” he sneers, working your body faster. “If they can hear your sounds, do you think they can hear how wet you are for me? How hard and deep I’m fucking you?”

You try to keep it down but as you start pulsing around his cock, you can’t help the cries that escape your lips. Ash’s hand moves up to your mouth in a feeble attempt to muffle your outburst. “Aww baby, you know those noises are only for me to hear, when will you learn how to control yourself?” His reprimand only makes you cry out more.

He grunts at the feeling of you nibbling at his palm, still experiencing intense waves of pleasure from your orgasm. He feels your body still tensing in his arms and sees your legs shaking and he decides you need some comfort. He strokes your hair and coos, “Such a good girl, cumming so hard, squeezing me so tight. Does it feel good, baby?”

You hold yourself on the window again, trying to catch your breath. “So good, Daddy...”

He kisses the back of your neck before he continues searching for his release, rough hands massaging your tits as he bounces you on his cock. You softly murmur encouragement, lost in the feeling of pleasing him and the dreamy haze from your own orgasm.

“Where do you want it, baby?” He asks breathlessly. “Kinda want to make you drip for the next 100 miles but you’re such a good girl, you can choose.”

“Wanna taste,” you answer instantly.

“That’s my girl,” he smirks, pulling out and watching fondly as you get on your knees.

You lean your head back against the window and raise your brow expectantly, waiting for him to continue. He gently runs a hand over your face before guiding his cock between your lips. It’s his turn to brace against the glass as he thrusts inside your mouth; you grip the back of his thighs, moaning around him, loving the feeling of being used by him in yet another way today.

Ashton huffs out a string of curses followed by a breathy cry of your name and you feel spurts of cum shooting across your tongue. You rub up and down his legs soothingly, soft sounds of satisfaction leaving your throat as he finishes rocking himself against you.

You pop off of his cock and press a kiss to the tip, smiling up at him as he tries to collect himself, still propped up on the glass. He leans down and kisses you tenderly, hands gently caressing your face.

"This was a good idea, baby," he breathes.

You tousle his hair and smile as he stands back up. He takes off, mumbling something about grabbing the Kleenex box from the bathroom and you hum contentedly, satisfied with your reunion.

Still on your knees, you turn around to peer out the window, wondering how much time you have left before your friends start asking for you. Michael and Crystal catch your attention first and you notice they only have a few items to go before the cars are fully loaded.

You squint, wondering why you don’t see Cal. You laugh to yourself, wondering if he got tired of their project and decided to lay down in one of the cars.

You start to jokingly suggest this to Ash when out of the corner of your eye, you spot some movement. You look up to see Calum, cigarette in hand, standing directly in front of your window. A knowing smile paints his face as he looks down at either his own reflection or at you. You can’t be sure. You surprise yourself as you realize that you can’t say for certain which scenario you would prefer.

You’re still staring out the window, speechless, as Ashton re-enters the room. He unsuspectingly jokes, “Goddamn, baby. Which one of us is gonna get some mirrored glass installed back at home?”

————-

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[mashup-writing]

Somebody else by 1975 and it is sparkles-✨

It worked out well; Park Chaeyoung (Blackpink)

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Summary: Y/N and Rosé had decided to announce their relationship, but they were gonna be extra about it.

Requested? ☑

"I remember it all too well."

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It was the final part of Y/N's concert and while he's used to the feeling of thousands of eyes on him, what's going to follow was something that made him extremely nervous, which says a lot. Especially when he was counting on the audience for his plan to work.

At the start of his career, he had announced that he was a Transgender man on all of his social media platforms. An action that took a lot of guts, and and an action that drew a lot of attention to him. At the rising point of his career when he was questioned about it in an interview, his answer was something that made him well known figure within the industry.

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

"Now Y/N at the very beginning of your career, you told the world that you were a trans man. That must've taken extreme bravery on your part seeing as those people who are against your community- The LGBT community, can be downright nasty and ruthless in 'Expressing' their dislike. What mae you decide to do this so early on in your time in the spotlight?"

Y/N smiles in his seat, switching from a laid back posture to one that elegantly demands attention, his next words being the ones that made him an icon amongst allies and LGBT people alike. "I am an advocate of LGBT rights before I am an artist, at the very start of my career I wanted to make it clear that I didn't want bigots to be a part of my following or an avid listener of my music and while I'm a man who values my privacy, I value honesty and transparency just as much. So if you're someone who believes that transgender people are just 'Confused' or that they're a 'Crime' against nature? Then go ahead and consider me your worst nightmare."

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

Y/N had been sitting on a chair for quite a few moments now, holding a Q&A onstage before he stands up and decides to follow through with the first part of his plan. "Alright, now today's intermission, I'm going to do a cover of my most favorite song called 'Somebody Else by The 1975'. Oh and don't worry you guys, the Q&A will still continue after this cover." The stadium fills with loud screams and cheers from the people watching as he places his mic back on its stand and goes to pick up his electric guitar. The lights dim into a sunset red as the opening notes of the music fill out through the speakers, Y/N starts singing and playing his guitar as the crowd claps along to the beat.

At the start of the second verse, Y/N takes off his guitar and takes the mic off of the stand, walking back to the guitar stand, he puts the instrument down before walking back to the front of the stage and hyping the people up to sing along with him in the pre-chorus. The entrance platform that had sunk back down starts rising as a distinctly feminine voice fills the stadium at the start of the chorus. Y/N smiles widely as the stage screens show Rosé walking towards him, offering her hand. He takes it and raises their hands up, leading the Blackpink member into a twirl, the crowd has gone wild at this point and the duo are pretty sure that somebody or multiple people in the audiences are Blinks seeing the way they've started chanting Rosé's name even without Y/N introducing her beforehand.

The bridge part comes along and the two singers alternate their lines. When the instrumental hits, Rosé takes his hands and starts dancing along to the beat, dorkily smiling and roping the man into dancing along. When the final chorus comes, Y/N and Rosé sing together, motioning for the crowd to sing along and the stadium fills with the sounds of music and the combined voices of a chanting crowd.

The song comes to an end with loud cheers for the two vocalists who are now smiling widely while catching their breaths. Y/N offers his hand to Rosé and when she takes it, the two raise their hands and perform a bow. He lets go of her hand once they've come up from the bow, turning to face her before speaking. "May I introduce, Park Chaeyoung of Blackpink everyone."

The woman in question laughs, shaking her head before going to bow once again and waving to the crowd with both hands, Y/N decides to push his luck. "Also known as Rosé of Blackpink, or Rosie, or Foodsé, or Chipm-" He runs as she jokingly tries to swat at his shoulder.

The cheers continue and the two laugh with each other before Rosè speaks to the crowd. "So how did you guys like our cover?" She's answered with loud cheers and Y/N's manager signals at the two from behind the curtain, raising both his hands up. 10 minutes left, Y/N nods at him and smiles while Rosé turns her attention back to the crowd, he gives the singers a thumbs up with a dorky smile before taking his leave. Y/N shakes his head in humor.

"I'm pretty sure I'm speaking for both me and Y/N over here when I say that we're happy to see you guys loved it." Y/N turns to Rosé to agree with her statement. Y/N speaks into the mic saying that he and Rosé will spend the last ten minutes of the concert for the Q&A. The following minutes fly by with questions aimed at Y/N, questions aimed at Rosé as well as questions aimed at both come in droves, until Y/N announce that the next question will be the last one before the event comes to an end and they have to start saying goodbye. Multiple people raise their hand, and he leaves it up to Rosé to pick who gets to ask the final question. She gives her mic to a girl in the front row, and the girl states her question.

"How did you come up with the idea to have Rosé make a special appearance for a cover? Going by your latest Instagram posts before this album dropped, it seemed like you guys were writing songs together. So we were really hyped for a collab." The fan hands the mic back to Rosé who smiles at Y/N as he takes a deep breath, steeling himself for what's to come next. The Western singer brings his mic up to his lips to answer.

"There's a pretty good reason for this cover actually. 'Somebody Else' is a song that holds special meaning for the both of us, besides being our favorite song." Y/N motion for Rosé to take the lead, and she steps closer to him before speaking. "There was a point in me and Y/N's life that we didn't know where we stood. It a point we could sort of compare to the kid's game: Tag." She looks over to the man beside her, silently asking if he wants to back out of it. Instead Y/N takes her hand, interlocks their fingers and squeezes. Go on, I'm ready.

"Long story short is that I was hung up and broken hearted over this person and he was hung up over me." Collective gasps resound through out the stadium. After all, the only thing they know about you and Rosé relationship up until this point was that she was helping you write songs. You bring your mic up to your lips and speak. "The pictures on my Instagram of her looking at the lyrics I wrote? That wasn't Rosé helping me write. That was Chaeyoung reading what I wrote about her." The crowd goes crazy over the newfound information, and Y/N's pretty sure that they miss the way he referred to her using her real name instead of her stage name. But Chaeyoung catches onto it and she smiles softly at the man.

"I can't even begin to describe how thankful I am to Y/N by the way. Staying up countless nights and listening to me ramble on about being torn up, being there for me in every single way, helping me heal and doing all of this without expecting anything in return. Such a gentleman really." The crowd collectively 'Awwwwws' and Y/N hangs his head low, hiding his blush from everyone, Rosé laughs as Y/N looks at the ceiling, composing himself before speaking.

"I would never expect anything in return from you and you don't have to thank me either, I was just doing what a friend would've done at a time like that. Anyways, I stuck by her in those times all while all I could think of afterwards was how stupid the person who broke her heart was, all while I wished I was the one she had ended up with instead of them. I never even hinted at how I felt about her in those times, much less actually tell her. I promised myself I wouldn't tell her how I felt until the time was right. I didn't want her to feel guilty or pressured at all by what I had to say." Y/N looks from the crowd infront of him to Rosé before continuing "Time passed and her heartbreak had healed. But she still wasn't ready for a relationship for a while after that whole ordeal, so I kept my promise and I waited."

"When I had told my members and Y/N that I was finally ready for another relationship- That like, I was completely okay. Y/N decided to court me instead of asking me outright to be his girlfriend. Can you believe this sap?" The crowd laughs with Rosé as Y/N's jaw hits the floor, he walks away from Rosé and heads to the other side of the stage. He crouches and points to Rosé "I was being noble, chivalrous and mind you I was trying to prove that I was boyfriend material! Then she goes and calls me a sap?! I can't believe this..." Y/N lowers the mic and shakes his head in mock disbelief. Rosé doubles over in laughter before walking over to him and resting her free hand on his shoulder.

"Yes, I'm calling you a sap because you are one. But it worked out didn't it?" She looks down at Y/N before continuing. "I gladly said yes." The crowd goes crazy, people cheering, some were jumping, and the others were speechless.

Y/N smiles, a full smile from ear to ear as he takes Chaeyoung's hand on his shoulder to bring it to his lips. "Yeah, yeah it worked out well in the end didn't it?"

--------------------٩(◕‿◕｡)۶--------------------

A/N: Damn writing in 3rd person is a TASK. I might never do it again, I hope this was good enough? I'm not too sure about the ending but I liked the idea of them announcing their relationship infront of a crowd instead of doing it via a social media post. So yeah.

[kissinginkitchens]

You Bring Me Home — Chapter One: Flightless Bird, American Mouth

a/n: I've been working on this story for mooonths now and I'm so excited to finally share it with the world! It's heavily inspired by Harry's Behind the Album mini doc, except I changed the setting to Hawai'i because I've personally spent some time there and as they say, write what you know! YBMH takes place in the period between One Direction's hiatus and Harry's first album/tour, but with that being said, this is entirely a work of fiction and some events don't follow the true timeline. Thank you so much for taking the time to read my little story, I hope you love it as much as I do! It will be updated every Friday at 5 PM PST. My inbox is open, so feel free to talk to me once you've finished reading! I'd love to hear from you :) Much love, Mel <3

Pairing: Hawai'i!Harry x Original Character

Warnings: swearing

Word Count: 5.5k

May, 2016

Harry watches LAX get smaller through the airplane window and visualizes all of his worries stuck at the terminal gate, their magnitude also diminishing as he takes flight. He sinks lower in his seat and skims through playlists on his phone when a nagging feeling at the back of his mind pulls his attention away from the screen. Looking up from the song choices, he spots a cell phone quickly lowered from his line of vision and a girl with flushed cheeks who quickly averts her gaze. Harry shoots a tight-lipped smile in her direction and goes back to his phone with a sigh. The days when he could roam the streets freely without fear of recognition—or worse, harassment—feel like an entirely different lifetime. He sometimes imagines that he’ll wake up back in his childhood bed as if the past five years had all been a dream, but he never does. In fact, his privacy and anonymity seem to dwindle with each minute of radio play that One Direction receives. It’s a bittersweet pill to swallow, but one he hopes will go down easier with some time in the Hawaiian sun.

His close friend and new manager, Jeff Azoff, had suggested the vacation as soon as the band privately agreed to take a hiatus.

“You’ll go home for a few weeks,” his voice had crackled through the speakers of Harry’s phone. “Visit your mom and Gem, lay low for a while until the smoke blows over,”

Harry mulled it over in his mind, eyes flickering over the rolling landscape outside of the tour bus window.

“Then what?”

“Then you go for a little vacation. The label offered to cover a house in Hawaii so you can start working on the album,”

“Alone?”

Jeff chuckled lightly on the other end before responding. “I mean, if that’s what you want,”

“No,” Harry corrected. “You and Tom should come. Mitch and Bhasker, too,”

“The dream team,”

“And there’ll be a studio there?”

“Yes,” Jeff started, almost hesitant. “But I don’t want you to think about that too much,”

“But you said the label—"

“I also said vacation. Look, Rob said ‘it will all happen in due time,' did he not?”

Harry twisted the rose ring around his finger, tracing over the silver petals and thinking back to his conversation with the CEO of Sony Music, Rob Stringer. Upon the proposal of his debut solo album, Rob had told him that the most important ingredient for a successful debut would be patience. The singer had agreed in the moment, but every day not spent in the studio felt like a test he hadn’t studied hard enough for.

“Yeah.”

“So you take the free vacation,” Jeff suggested. “You go out, live, get some writing material. Maybe mess around with some tunes. And then we come back to L.A. and get to work. But until then, I just want you to focus on taking it easy.”

So take it easy he had. Or at least he had tried to when he was back home in England. Harry quickly grew restless after what felt like the millionth awkward conversation with past friends and acquaintances, all of which eventually led to the topic of One Direction and it’s unexpected hiatus. After one month at home, his mind and journal were full of ideas for songs, things that he wanted to say before he lost his nerve. One night as he tossed and turned in bed, he shot Jeff a text, just two words that would kick off a three month getaway to the Big Island of Hawai'i:

I’m ready.

********

“Sounds great, I'll go put in your order.” Alani offers sweetly, trying not to overdo it with the customer service voice. After waiting on the family at her designated table, she heads back to the kitchen and finds her younger sister, Pua, crouched in the corner taking what appears to be a serious phone call.

“I don’t know, I just saw it!” Her sister cries in a hushed tone. “Where do you think he’s going?”

“Is everything okay?” Alani cuts in with concern.

Pua whispers into the speaker before bringing the phone to her shoulder.

“Harry Styles was just spotted on a plane this morning,”

“Who?”

“The guy from One Direction,” her sister explains with a hint of irritation in her voice. “The band who sings that song you secretly like, ‘Fireproof,'”

Alani vaguely recalls the melody, but she waits expectantly for Pua to elaborate. “And this is news because…”

“Because the band just broke up, so where could he possibly be going?”

"The unemployment office?”

Pua rolls her eyes and returns to her phone call while Alani envelops her in a tight hug.

“I’m just kidding!” Alani apologizes, squeezing tighter despite her sister’s attempts to break free. “I’m sure he’ll be living off of royalty checks until he’s, like, eighty,”

“Get off me, freak!” Pua cries out, finally breaking the embrace.

Alani clutches her chest and pulls out an invisible knife. “Ouch. I’m telling Harry you said that,”

“This is exactly why I don’t tell you things.” the younger sister huffs, storming out of the kitchen through the employee entrance where Alani’s best friend, Maleah, has just arrived.

“Looks like someone forgot to eat their Cheerios today,” she remarks, tying her curls into a high ponytail.

Alani shrugs and leans against the counter. “She’s going through something. Just discovered that boys in pop bands are, in fact, just regular boys.”

“Poor thing,” Maleah frowns. “We all have to learn eventually.”

********

The sky is a blend of cotton candy pink and burnt orange when Alani returns home from the café with a strawberry smoothie in tow. She empties the mailbox and sorts through the various bills and advertisements, but her stomach drops when she sees a familiar return address label. After a quick greeting to her excited dog who waits at the door, Alani bolts up the stairs and quietly shuts the bedroom door behind her. Breathe, she reminds herself before tearing into the envelope and discarding it onto the wooden floor.

Dear Ms. Hale,

We are very grateful to have received your submission to Rolling Stone magazine. However, we regret to inform you—

She doesn’t read the rest, slumping to the floor in defeat. The sixth rejection letter from Rolling Stone lies crumpled at Alani’s feet and she kicks it across the room with a frustrated grunt. She had worked for over two months perfecting her analysis of Joni Mitchell’s Big Yellow Taxi and its allusions to the environmental impact of urban development in Hawaii. As part of her initial research, Alani had even traveled to both the Royal Hawaiian hotel in Honolulu, which is the famous Pink Hotel mentioned in the song, and Foster Botanical Garden that Mitchell referred to as “the tree museum.” She was certain that her effort and persistence would result in at least a consideration. The second third time's the charm! Maleah had joked watching Alani submit the piece. Six articles in the span of two years, each one facing the same rejection despite the increased effort Alani had put in over time. The fact that the rejection letter hadn’t changed over the course of the two years brings an incredulous smile to her face, and her stomach turns when she considers that the editors probably hadn’t even read her work, anyway. All that effort, she thinks to herself, all that time, for nothing.

“It will take time,” her favorite professor, Dr. Hudson, had reassured her three months after the Joni Mitchell article was submitted. “Every great writer faced countless rejection until that one piece. Yours will come. Keep your eyes open and your pen ready.”

Alani sighs and lifts herself off the floor, choosing to crawl into her unmade bed instead of slumping onto the hardwood. She hears a soft scratching at the door before her King Charles Spaniel, Freddie, pads into the room.

“Come here, bubs,” Alani whispers. He obeys and burrows into the duvet, giving her temple a gentle lick before nuzzling into the nape of her neck.

“You still love me, right?” she asks, voice cracking. “Even if I’m a failure?”

Freddie sniffs her ear in response.

********

“Right,” Harry says, his tongue peeking from the corner of his mouth as he reads the map. “No, left, sorry,”

“Do you actually know how to read a map?” Jeff teases, correcting the turn.

Harry pouts in response, his brows furrowing. “In my defense, we’re literally in the middle of fucking nowhere,”

“There are worse places to be,” Mitch pipes up from the back seat. “England, for example, where they say things like ‘litchrally’,”

“Very well said, Mitchell,” Jeff Bhasker adds with a fake British accent of his own.

Harry turns to his friends in the back seat with a finger pointed like an agitated mother. “If you lot don’t shut up, I’m gonna lead us to a volcano and push you in,”

“Where are we even going? I forgot,” Tom complains.

“To get food,” his manager responds from the driver’s seat. “I think,”

“Why can’t we just stop there?” Mitch asks pointing to a café pulling up on their right.

Jeff merges into the turning lane quickly without a second thought. “Good enough for me, I’m starving.”

“Sorry, H.” Mitch pats his friend on the shoulder.

Harry scoffs. “You’re the one who wanted poke.”

The Aloha Nui Loa Café is much more spacious than the exterior suggests, yet it still feels cozy. The walls are painted sage green and adorned with various local art pieces, as described by the plaques that accompany them. A skylight fills the center of the room with plenty of warm lighting, leaving the space along the walls in a bit more shade for an intimate feel. In one corner, a hanging disco ball leaves freckles of sparkling light along the walls where the sunlight hits, making the whole image very idyllic in Harry’s mind. As if he couldn’t enjoy the setting more, he hears the beginning of an Otis Redding song that he’s had stuck in his head drift through the restaurant speakers.

“Welcome in!” a voice calls, which pulls him from his survey of the room. His head whips to the source—a girl around his age with wavy, dark hair and honey skin. “For here or to go?”

Harry takes a hesitant step up to the counter. “For here,”

She smiles warmly and pulls some menus from under the counter. “How many in your party?”

“Five.”

“Great, follow me.”

Harry and his friends follow the waitress to the corner of the room under the disco ball and take their seats at the round table.

“My name is Alani,” she introduces herself, setting the menus down. “I’ll be serving you today. Can I get you started with some drinks?”

Harry continues scanning the restaurant while his group orders. His eyes land on the shirt that Alani is wearing, a white tee with the words “Enjoy Health, Eat Your Honey” in blue lettering that surrounds a picture of a cartoon bee.

“Harry,” Jeff says gently, catching his drifting attention.

The singer turns to his manager, who nods to Alani waiting with a pen pressed to her notepad. Harry feels a rush of embarrassment creep across his cheeks and he clears his throat to cover it.

“Just water,” he says, eyes glued to the menu. “Thanks.”

“You got it.” Alani nods, flashing a toothy grin at the rest of the group before turning back to the kitchen. Harry. Her mind repeats, finding a hint of familiarity, though she doesn’t know why.

When Alani arrives at the drink station, she finds her sister staring at her, mouth agape, while Maleah unsuccessfully conceals her laughter.

“What?” she questions, checking herself for any embarrassing stains or smells.

“You were—and he—” Pua stammers. “He was—and then he—”

“That’s Harry Styles,” Maleah translates, her voice hushed as she peers over her friend's shoulder.

Alani turns to steal a glance at the table she just seated, but Pua and Maleah latch onto her and shake their heads frantically.

“Don’t look!” her sister hisses.

Alani smirks, amused at their reactions. “No shit. That’s One Direction?”

Maleah snorts, clasping a hand over her mouth as Pua huffs. “No, dumbass! It’s just Harry. I don’t know who the other guys are,”

“But the blonde guy? That’s not—?”

“No!” Pua and Maleah giggle in unison.

“Okay, geez,” Alani relents. She manages to steal a quick glance at the table over her shoulder, immediately searching for Harry. Her eyes scan over the long, curly hair kept out of his face by a pair of white sunglasses that she had seen on Kurt Cobain once. All of his features are sharp and striking, from his pointed nose and defined jawline to the bright blue eyes. Or maybe they were grey? Alani wonders, trying to remember the exact shade. He doesn’t look anything like the fresh-faced teeny bopper she’d had in mind, the one from a music video her sister had shown her a long time ago. She would have never guessed that the What Makes You Beautiful singer had so much dark ink trailing down his bicep and forearm, though her knowledge of One Direction was very limited.

“What did he order?” Pua questions, her eyes wide.

Alani quickly snaps back to reality and resumes filling the drinks. “A water,”

“Oh my god,” Maleah swoons. “I’m never drinking anything else ever again,”

“I didn’t even know you liked him,” Alani teases with an eyebrow raised.

Maleah sneaks another peek at the table and catches her lower lip between her teeth. “I mean, I didn’t really think so either but look at him. What a fucking dream,”

Harry was objectively handsome, this Alani could admit, but she personally didn’t see the appeal and had a strong feeling that he was just like every other male celebrity. The fact that he hadn’t even bothered to make eye contact with her only served as further proof of what she knew to be true.

“Okay, well, your dreamboat is waiting for his water. So excuse me,” Alani winks, making her way back to the table.

The singer spots Alani returning out of the corner of his eye and the sight of her causes a strange flutter in the pit of his stomach that makes him want to duck for cover. Instead, he pulls his phone from his back pocket and pretends to be occupied with something on the screen.

“Okay,” she greets, setting the drink tray down. “I have a Blue Hawaii, a Mango Mama, two Loco Cocos, and a water,”

The group graciously accepts their drinks with a chorus of “thank you," but the only one under Alani’s scrutiny is Harry. He still doesn’t meet her almond eyes, and though she figured he wouldn’t, she can’t help the inkling of disappointment that washes over her. After taking their meal orders, Alani heads back to the kitchen, checking on her other customers along the way. Harry’s eyes follow her and he observes the way customers light up at her presence, indulging her conversation with laughter. He watches as she lingers by the jukebox in one corner of the room, a detail he had missed in his initial scan, and waits anxiously to see what song she chooses. Baby I’m-a Want You begins softly and Harry feels the corner of his lip curl ever so slightly. Good choice, he thinks.

********

“He’s still here,” Pua muses, peering through the tiny window in the kitchen door. It had been nearly two hours and the five men were still seated around their table cracking jokes and doing a lot of talking with their hands.

Alani doesn’t look up from her bowl of sliced kiwis, offering a hum in response. “And what do you want me to do about that?”

“Nothing,” Pua shoots back. “Don’t bother him,”

“What kind of girls do you think he’s into?” Maleah asks, attempting to peek through the window.

Alani shrugs, bored of the conversation and of thinking about Harry. “I don’t know, but I’ll bet he’s a real sucker for the ones who stalk him while he’s eating,”

“How does he make eating a salad look hot?”

“Can we talk about something else now?” Alani whines, poking holes in a lone kiwi with her fork.

Pua tosses a wet dish rag in her sister’s direction and cheers when it lands in her face. “Go see if he wants more water, he looks thirsty.”

“I already refilled it,” Alani defends. “Twenty minutes ago. I’ve refilled it a hundred times, I’m surprised he hasn’t peed his pants.”

I’m gonna piss myself. Harry thinks, his right leg bouncing to distract himself. He really wasn’t all that thirsty, but he couldn’t stop himself from finishing each glass of water that Alani placed in front of him. He really wasn’t all that thirsty, but he couldn’t stop himself from finishing each glass of water that Alani placed in front of him. Like clockwork, she would return to fill his glass almost as soon as the last drop had been drained, and so what began as a little experiment slowly turned into a bladder hazard. But if the trend was to be trusted, she would be back any minute and he wasn’t going to miss it; afterall, there were only so many ways to casually linger in a small café without making it weird. Unable to bear it any longer, he heads to the restroom and hopes that Alani doesn’t clear their table before he has a chance to see her again.

Harry pads down the back hallway with his eyes cast down at the floor, which proves to be a mistake when he walks directly into another person.

“Sorry!” they both apologize quickly, Harry’s palm taking purchase on the other person’s upper arm.

“I wasn’t paying attention,” he offers, finally meeting the dark, mocha eyes already looking back at him.

Alani presses her lips into a tight smile. “Me either,”

Harry’s heartbeat picks up when he realizes it’s her, and he isn’t aware of how close they’re standing until he detects the faint scent of kiwi on her breath. He takes a step back and rakes a hand through his hair.

“So I guess I’ll just—”

“Yeah, sure.”

Green. Alani notes to herself. His eyes are green.

********

Shortly after Harry returned from the restroom, him and his friends settled their bill and headed out. Alani cleared their table and her eyes nearly fell out of her head when she saw the hefty tip left behind. The word mahalo was also left behind on the receipt, underlined twice, and she wondered if it was his handwriting.

Later that night, she settled into bed with her laptop and hesitantly typed his name into Google. As she expected, countless articles about the split of One Direction emerged, most of them speculating what was next for each member. To her surprise, however, Harry’s name seemed to be mentioned more than his fellow bandmates as various sources labeled him “the next Justin Timberlake” and rising star of the group. Upon further investigation, she learned that the demand for information about the elusive Harry Styles was high, especially concerning any possible solo music. No news had yet been confirmed by Styles himself, nor anyone claiming to represent him, but she still wondered if his presence in Hawaii had anything to do with a possible solo project. Almost as soon as she thought it, Alani dismissed the theory in favor of the idea that he was most likely just taking a vacation. And from the buzz that she saw surrounding the news about One Direction, she couldn’t blame him.

The more Alani read, the more she wanted to know, and something deep down told her that his was a story worth telling. Of course, the only problem was that she had hardly talked to him, and there were only so many things she could say about the fifteen glasses of water he downed. There was no way of knowing if she would ever see him again, either, or if he was merely stopping in Hilo on his way to another island or somewhere else entirely. Alani sighed, thinking back to her most recent rejection from Rolling Stone. She knew that there was no possible way she would ever see or talk to Harry ever again, and even if she did, why would he bare his entire soul to a stranger? Still, she let her mind wander through the possibility.

Dear Ms. Hale, the letter would read, we are very grateful to have received your submission to Rolling Stone magazine and are pleased to inform you that your piece on Harry Styles will be featured in next month’s issue. Additionally, we would be honored to have you on staff, effective immediately.

It was far-fetched, Alani knew this, but she dozed off that night with endless ideas swimming in her head.

********

By the third day after his visit, the only trace of Harry is in Alani’s search history. She would have completely forgotten about him if it weren’t for her sister’s constant reminiscing and multiple attempts to rename the house salad to the “Harry Special.” As a result, a part of Alani’s thoughts periodically linger back to that day and the subsequent hours spent on Google that she’d rationalized as research instead of stalking. Somehow the knowledge that she’ll never see him again only adds fuel to the questions still burning in her mind, but a customer clearing their throat while she sorts menus below the hostess podium interrupts her thoughts.

“Welcome in!” She calls, standing. “What can I—”

She stops in her tracks, unable to believe her eyes. Harry blinks and waits for her to continue.

“What can I get started for you?” Alani tries again, hoping that he hadn’t noticed her shock. Luckily for her, Harry had been too focused on choosing his next words to register her mistake.

“What’s in the Honu smoothie?” he asks, mentally kicking himself for asking such a stupid question when the menu just inches above her head clearly spells it out.

Alani hums, thinking back to the times she had made the smoothie herself. “Kiwis, spinach, mango, avocado, and a hint of lime,”

“I’ll take one of those,” Harry says, reaching for his wallet.

Alani punches in the order with trembling fingers and nods. “For here or to go?”

“To go,”

Disappointment fills her chest. Sure, she hadn’t planned on seeing him ever again, but the fact that she did felt like a sign. If she wanted to take the chance, she’d have to do it fast.

“Anything else?” she asks, weighing her options while he skims the menu.

“No thanks.”

Alani makes the smoothie quickly, head spinning. She had spent most of the night after their initial meeting planning out exactly the type of questions she hoped to ask him and what kind of article she would write. She was used to writing about what she knew—artists and music she’d admired for years— but she figured that starting fresh with someone she hardly knew would be a good challenge. Not to mention that it seemed like just the thing Rolling Stone would jump for. Alani finally works up the courage as she finishes his smoothie, but when she returns to hand it to him and hopefully strike up a conversation, his ear is pressed to his cell phone. She holds out the drink and he graciously accepts, giving her a small nod as a “thank you” and rushing out of the restaurant.

Two days later he returns and is seated at the counter, typing away on his phone. Alani feels both a rush of optimism and annoyance at the universe for dangling his presence so unexpectedly. She starts heading over to him, but Maleah cuts in.

“Trade me?” she proposes, eyes wide.

Alani blinks. “Oh, I would but I—”

“Please,” her best friend pouts. “I’m leaving to see my grandparents in stupid California for two months. Who knows when I’ll get the chance to see him again?”

Alani sighs, but gives in, reluctantly exchanging Harry for the family of four seated by the window. A strange feeling settles into the pit of his stomach when he sees that she heads in the opposite direction after a hushed conversation with another waitress. He doesn’t know why she traded him for a different customer, but he takes the hint.

A week goes by without another sighting of Harry and Alani has permanently taken on the role of greeting hostess in hopes of seeing him again. Her heartbeat temporarily speeds up when she sees a long haired customer approach the door, but her spirits quickly fall when the face doesn’t match his.

Another week brings another disappointing realization that Harry might be gone for good. One rainy morning when the restaurant is quiet and only two customers huddle together in a booth near the back, Alani hunches over the hostess podium and doodles on a stray receipt— a sunflower, a crescent moon, and two hearts. The bell above the door jingles but she doesn’t look up, too absorbed in her scribbles.

“Do you serve coffee?”

The familiar accented voice stops Alani’s pen dead in its tracks. She lifts her eyes first to confirm, and then straightens up when she sees that her ears haven’t deceived her.

“Yes,” she swallows.

“Great. I’ll take it to go,”

She slightly deflates, but Harry thinks he’s reading too much into it.

“Actually,” he corrects anyway, just in case he isn’t. “I think I’ll stay for a while,”

Alani flashes a warm smile and nods in the direction of the counter. “Right this way,”

Harry sheds his windbreaker onto the back of the seat, revealing a black and white Rolling Stones t-shirt that makes Alani’s blood pressure rise. A sign, she thinks.

“What do you want in your coffee?” she questions carefully.

“Nothing,” he responds, shaking out his damp hair gently. “Or actually, uh, butter...if you have some,”

Alani blinks, not sure if she’d heard correctly or if there had been some transatlantic miscommunication.

“Butter?”

“Yeah,”

“Like the—”

“Spread, yeah,” Harry confirms. “It’s weird, I know,”

She lets out a light-hearted laugh and nods. “It’s a...unique request,”

“I thought the same thing at first,” Harry confides. “It’s not bad, actually. But maybe I’ve just been in L.A. for too long.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

She offers a polite smile and heads to the kitchen where the cook and two other waiters talk amongst each other. Alani is grateful that the restaurant is slow this morning because she knows that it means minimal interruptions to her time with Harry. To ensure this, though, she asks one of the other waiters to cover the podium and returns to Harry with his coffee.

“One butter coffee, free of judgement,” the waitress announces, setting it down.

Harry grins softly, stirring the drink with the spoon Alani provided. “You can judge, it’s alright,”

“I just wanna know why,”

The coffee had been part of a fad diet while on tour in order to boost Harry’s energy on stage and stay trim for the hundreds of photo-ops he would be a part of. He doesn’t know how to communicate all of this to Alani, however, not sure how much she knows about that part of him, so he shrugs and tells a simplified version of the truth.

“I read about this trend a while back, it's called bulletproof coffee. Supposed to get your energy up and I needed it for my job,”

“Which is…” Alani trails off, downplaying the knowledge that she had acquired from Google.

“I make music,” is all Harry says and he takes a sip of the drink to avoid elaborating.

“Anything I would have heard?”

He swallows hard and listens to the faint rumbling of thunder outside before replying. “Possibly,”

“Try me,” Alani challenges.

He narrows his eyes and takes another sip of coffee. “Why don’t you tell me something about yourself first?”

“What do you wanna know?”

Everything, Harry responds internally, though he reigns it in. “How you got into waitressing,”

Alani sighs, resting her elbows on the counter across from him. “There’s not much to tell, it’s a family business. What I really wanna do is write,”

“Music?”

“Articles. I’m studying Journalism at UH,”

Harry hums in response, filing the detail away in the back of his mind. “Sounds interesting. You ever publish anything?”

“Not yet,” Alani shakes her head gently, toying with the sleeves of her green University of Hawaii crewneck. “Hopefully soon, though,”

Harry racks his brain for something else to say, but before he can, Alani speaks up again.

“Is it my turn to ask something now?”

He offers a curt nod and stirs his coffee.

“What kind of music do you write?”

Harry chooses to be vague again. “Different stuff. Pop, usually. Been messing with some classic rock, though,”

“Explains the shirt,”

He peers down at the design on his tee and agrees. “Yeah, I guess so,”

“Do you like it?” Alani asks, her eyes begging to make contact with his again. “Writing music, I mean,”

“Yeah,” Harry confirms, tapping his spoon against the rim of the mug. “I really do,”

Alani’s heart pounds. This is her chance, a moment to finally secure her breakthrough piece. She doesn’t know how to approach it, so she opts to dive right in without looking back. The worst he can say is no.

“Can I ask you something else?”

“That’s cheating,” Harry teases lightly. “It's my turn,”

She pouts playfully, but obliges. “Fire away,”

Harry doesn’t know which question to ask first, but when he glances down at the crescent moon inked on her wrist, he decides to start there.

“What’s with the moon tattoo?”

Alani isn’t sure what she expected him to ask and wonders what purpose such a detail could possibly serve him, but she answers anyway.

“Oh, well,” she begins, tracing her index finger over the outline. “It’s kinda the meaning of my full name. It’s Mahealani, Hawaiian for ‘heavenly moon,'”

Fitting, Harry comments to himself. Every detail he learns about her makes him want to learn that much more, from her favorite foods to the last thing she thinks about before falling asleep. Studying her expectant eyes, he suddenly remembers that it’s his turn to respond.

“That’s cool,” is all he says.

Alani doesn’t know what to make of the faraway look in his eye, but she decides to pose her most burning question while he appears to be in good spirits.

“I know this is gonna sound totally out of the blue,” she starts, working past the lump in her throat. “But when you mentioned how you write music, I was just reminded of this assignment I’m working on in my class,”

Harry waits for her to continue, nursing his now lukewarm coffee.

“I’m supposed to write a piece about someone who I don’t know that well,” she continues. “You know, to practice our interviewing skills. And, well, I was just kind of wondering if you might be interested in helping me out—being the subject, I mean,”

Alani had every intention of telling Harry the truth, about how she really planned to submit the article to Rolling Stone in hopes of securing an internship before her college graduation next Spring. But as she started speaking, she quickly realized how it would come off: a complete stranger asking for personal information to submit to a well-known publication. She knew that there was a chance he would shut down and never return, so she lowered the stakes and hoped that this route would be less risky. Was it ethical? Alani hadn’t decided yet, but she would work out the details later. After six failed articles and two years of rejection, she saw a ray of hope and wasn’t going to let it slip away.

Harry ponders her offer for a moment, which confirms that she had recognized him. Normally he would be off-put by such a request, and to a certain extent he is, but there is something sincere in her voice that he trusts deep down. Before he agrees, however, he decides to fish around a bit to test her reaction.

“You know who I am,” he says gently. “Don’t you?”

Alani’s heart drops into the pit of her stomach, not sure what to say next. She hopes with every fiber of her being that she hasn’t upset him, or worse, ruined her chances, so she decides to offer some truth to throw him off her scent.

“My sister recognized you,” she explains. “That day you came in with your friends. I thought they were your bandmates at first,”

This lets Harry know that she isn’t a total stalker, which is comforting, but he wouldn’t have been minded if she were a fan simply engaging in conversation.

“Oh,” he laughs weakly.

“I totally understand if you say no,” Alani offers quickly, trying to smooth things over. “I just thought it was worth a shot. And that it might be more interesting than interviewing our produce guy,”

Harry decides to give her one last scan for any sign of insincerity. He’d always felt that his gut instinct was strong and it hadn’t led him astray thus far.

“An interview?” he clarifies.

“Just one,” Alani promises. “An hour, tops. And you can proofread all of it once I’ve finished, too.”

Harry waits a beat, already knowing his reply, but he wants to see how she will react to his silence. She doesn’t budge, almond eyes set and determined.

“Okay.”

next chapter

[jamestrmtx]

The Bebop Blues - [Animal Crossing | Tom Nook x Reader]

[Gender-Neutral Reader | Slow Burn + Tragicomedy]

Part 1 of 10 | And They Were Business Partners

[Next]

Rating: PG

Updates: Twice (to thrice) a month on Wednesdays

• • •

The melodies that follow after he ends his song become a blur as you contemplate his choice of music.

You'd heard him mention it being his favourite a long, long time ago, back when the island had only just managed to have an upgraded Resident Services building. It's almost half a year after that you're able to hear him sing, and it leaves you to wonder over what a successful man like him could be troubled with. The both of you were the main people responsible for making the island thrive as much as it had to this day, and every time he seemed to be in a tight spot, he relied on you without fear over making himself appear weak.

So if the island was doing well under his care and he had you around for whenever matters got too complicated for him alone, then what was he feeling down about?

Or was that song simply one he liked for its melody, and nothing more?

Either way, you don't have much time to think about that now with the sound of him calling your name. He gestures for you to follow him off to a less crowded area, farther away from those lining up to sing their heart out for what's left of the night. His directions lead you to the beach, though the chilly air sends you backtracking in your steps, avoiding the water at all costs.

As much as you liked swimming and doing pretty much just a bit of everything around the island, you're not feeling up to it presently. The night's far too cold, and though it doesn't snow on the island, it's clear winter's here. You search your inventory for some warmer clothes, yet you realize you've nothing but your tools and swimsuit with you. All other items had been stored away in order for you to carry all the materials necessary for your next big project.

"I'm afraid I don't have a coat with me, but…" Nook stands right beside you, almost brushing shoulders with you in the process. "We can stay like this for a moment, if you don't mind." He then excuses himself to retrieve something from his pockets, though he stays close to your side while he does that. When he finds what he's looking for, you see it's a song, though unlike Slider's disks, his has no album cover, title, or any of that sort; only your name can be seen scribbled on it at a first glance. "This is for you." He offers it to you and takes his gaze elsewhere once you have the disk in your possession. Nook doesn't say anything else, and -- instead -- waits, though all while simultaneously pretending not to.

When you flip it over, you see it's one of your top three favourite tracks: K.K. Metal, but sung by him.

...Yeah.

Not exactly what you expect a guy like him to be capable of singing, yet curiosity helps you imagine him trying to match his voice and attitude with the tone of the song.

You thank him, and -- being the small villager that you are -- stand on your tiptoes and offer him a kiss on the cheek. 

He takes a few steps back and keeps his hand pressed against the spot you've kissed. Pink spots his cheeks, but it's not quite like that embarrassed reaction you were given when you just discovered how to display emotions. Rather, he seems to have transcended beyond the realms of the game's possibilities enough for a new emotion to be unlocked, and so you mimic the expression out of pure custom -- therefore creating a glitch, as you already have all reactions unlocked. 

It's like… imagine a hamster when it hears something: ears perked, wide eyes, standing on two legs and all that -- but blushing, as well.

That's the emotion he's displaying to you right now.

"...Are you okay?" you ask, oblivious as always. "Do you… Do you need me to call a doctor?"

It takes him a minute, but he manages to snap out of it.

"It's quite alright," he says, shaking his head. "But… May I, by any chance, reciprocate your kiss?"

Though his word choice is awkward and odd, you smile and nod, replying with, "Sure -- Now, c'mere!"

You tug him by his Hawaiian shirt's collar, stand on your tiptoes again, and bring him closer, allowing him to kiss you back, something proven to be difficult for how long his snout is. Still, he persists and presses a quick kiss to your cheek, though it goes a similar way as to when people wearing glasses try to do the same thing; it's like that for him, though it's his snout what blocks him from doing it properly, rather than a pair of glasses. It's an endearing act from his part nonetheless, prompting you to bring him closer for a hug.

"Happy one-year anniversary," you say, words murmured. "I'm glad to have met you." A pause follows, though you soon continue with, "It's not everyday people get to have landlords like you -- with no rent payment deadlines, and no threats of being kicked out whatsoever, y'know?"

Nook chuckles. "Happy one-year anniversary." He then takes a breath. "You say that, and yet you've paid every single debt so far."

"What can I say?" You grin. "We make great business partners, don't we?"

He seems disappointed, though you don't think much of it. "...Yes." A sigh leaves him, though it's barely audible and could just as easily be confused with the soft, nightly winds of the beach. "Truly so."

Wanting to cheer him up, you sit down on the sand and extend your hand out to him, pulling him to sit next to you once he takes your hand in his.

"What's troubling you, Tom?" you ask, frowning. "You know I'm here for you."

His eyes squint into a smile, yet the words that follow contrast with it. "I'm afraid this isn't something you can help me with, (Y/N)." He looks away for a split second, distracted by a moth fluttering next to a lamp. "But even so, thank you for your concern," he adds, squeezing your hand tight.

You squeeze it back and return his smile. "Anytime, friend."

[Next]

[just-another-ficwriter]

Holidate - Part One

Pairing: Sweet Pea x Reader

Words: 3000ish

Warnings: Overbearing parents, alcohol

Summary: Tired of being alone on holidays, Sweet Pea and Y/N decide to be each other’s plationic plus-ones all year round. What could go wrong?

Notes: I’m super late posting this and I feel awful about it!! I just couldn’t decide how I wanted it to go and ended up rewriting it three times🤦🏻‍♀️

“No Mom.” Y/N pinches the bridge of her nose, irritation seeping into her words. There’s already a dull ache drumming behind her temples and she hasn’t even made it home yet. “I’m not using this as an excuse because I’m running late.”

“Well I simply can’t just drop everything and come get you, I’ve got to stuff the Turkey and cut the vegetables and-“ She lets her Mother’s voice drowned out into background noise with a frustrated sigh on her end.

She hates Christmas, she thinks. Hates the decorations, the songs, the cheer. Every last bit. Nothing’s been the same since the truth came out about Hal and-

“Is Jug there?” She cuts her own thoughts short, desperate not to think of her Dad and all the things he’s done right now.

“Of course Forsyth is here!” Y/N can almost see Jug flinch at the correction and bites back a laugh. “But him and Betty have already opened a bottle of wine.”

“Can you just ask him for the number of his Dad’s garage please?” Another five minutes of Alice rambling on passes before Jughead’s voice appears on the other end with a joyful ‘Merry Christmas’ and a direct contact to someone who might be able to help.

She thanks him quickly, hanging up before she can even finish saying goodbye, so he doesn’t have a chance to hand the phone back. And as she leans against the car behind her, the same car that had given up on her just as she passed the town sign, she dials the number and hopes she’ll make it home in time for dinner.

Otherwise, she might never hear the end of it.

-

“Again, in English?” Y/N cocks an eyebrow at him, the string of words he’d just said sounding almost foreign in her head. 

 She doesn’t mean for it to sound as rude as it does, but she can’t help it. She’s tired, exhausted even, not to mention cold. The snow fall had picked up five minutes after she’d called the number Jug had given her and it had taken him, or Sweet Pea as he’d introduced himself, almost 40 minutes to reach her. 

But he just laughs it off, smirks before firing it straight back at her. “You aren’t getting anywhere in this car, anytime soon princess.”

“Great!” It’s official. Her mom’s going to kill her and she’ll be blamed for ruining Christmas. She throws her hands up in defeat, kicking a tyre in the process. “Just great!”

“If it makes you feel better, this isn’t how I planned on spending my Christmas Eve either.” He watches her amused, another laugh passing his lips before the sarcastic remark follows, his arms now crossed over his chest and she almost feels guilty. 

“I’m sorry for being such an inconvenience.” She throws a false apology at him along with  a fake grin that falls into a frown almost immediately. 

“Apology accepted.” She’s scowling at him now, eyes rolling back but he simply ignores it, happy to keep winding her up. “Want me to give you a ride somewhere while I tow this back?”

“Only on one condition.” She points a finger over her shoulder towards his trunk, the radio still on loud. “We find a station that isn’t playing Christmas music.”

“Hey, it’s either Mariah Carey, or you walk Sweetheart.” He shrugs, walking backwards, watching her make the choice. 

He can’t help but laugh again when she sighs and runs to the passenger seat, desperate to seek shelter from the snow. 

-

10 minutes after Sweet Pea kindly drops her off at her childhood home, Y/N finds herself still on the porch out front, mentally preparing herself for what’s about to come.

She sucks in a breath. Two, three. And with a fake smile so sickly sweet it makes her stomach hurt; she lets herself in.

Polly’s the first to spot her, catches her the minute she walks through the door and pulls her into a hug before she can even drop her bags. She can’t help but sink into the embrace, it’s always nice to see her older sister alone like this, but Y/N doesn’t even get the chance to ask her how she is before the twins descend down the stairs and push past them in a blur.

“Juniper put the presents down- Dagwood no!” She feels Polly gently squeeze her hand in a silent way of saying they’ll catch up later before she’s chasing after them, joining an exhausted looking Jason who pauses long enough to wave a quick hello before he resumes pursuit.

She moves further into the house, away from the chaos of the living room and towards the interesting smells wafting from the kitchen. It’s impossible not to hear her Mother barking orders from where she stands over the stove, while Jug and Betty listen to every word, working on the dining table and it’s fixtures like a well-oiled machine.

“Y/N/N you’re here!” Betty looks up with a soft smile but doesn’t dare move from her task and face the wrath of Alice Cooper.

“Finally!” It’s Alice’s turn to look at her now, a perfectly shaped eyebrow arching in distaste as her eyes roam over her middle daughter. “Please tell me you aren’t wearing that to dinner?”

Y/N lets out a breath she didn’t realise she was holding and prepares to fire back when a gentle arm lands around her shoulder with a calming chuckle.

“Oh come on Mom, Y/N looks fine.” Charles plants a quick kiss to her forehead before ruffling her hair and they both laugh. Her brother had always been her saving grace in situations like this, the only one brave enough to stand up for himself and the others, ever the mediator. But not even he was enough to put Alice off her persistent questioning, she was already sick of her Mother’s judgement and they hadn’t even touched on her job or her relationship status yet.

-

“You’ve definitely told them we aren’t officially together, right?” Sweet Pea takes one last, slow drag of his cigarette before stomping it out under his boot. Josie nods at him reassuringly but one look up at the exterior of her parents house has his stomach in knots. “They know we’re just casual?”

“Sweet Pea would you stop?” She playfully pokes at his ribs, but he just sighs and rubs a nervous hand down his face.

He couldn’t help it, that sick feeling rising from the pit of stomach by the second. The idea of spending Christmas with Josie’s family, a girl he’d only been dating for a month, was absolutely terrifying on all levels. But Fangs had ditched him to spend the holidays with his boyfriend in New York, not that he could really blame him, and he had no other family in town so when she originally offered, he’d jumped at the chance of not spending the day alone.

Part of him had regretted it since.

If Sweet Pea thought the outside of house was impressive, with it’s perfectly placed lights and overly decorated windows, it was nothing compared to what was waiting for him on the inside.

Myles and Sierra McCoy welcome them at the front door with bright smiles and open arms that engulf Sweet Pea before he even has the chance to say hello.

Josie joins in, the four of them becoming one big, massive group hug like he’s been part of their family his whole life and not just a stranger potentially only passing through. All three of them squeal in excitement before someone yanks him in doors.

If he had doubts before, he thinks, he’s almost certain he’s in over his head now.

-

Betty gets engaged on Christmas Morning.

Right in front of the Christmas tree, just after the last presents are opened and the twins are happily distracted by a mountain of toys; Jughead drops to one knee and pops the question under twinkling lights. 

The minute Betty gasps the word ‘yes’ the family erupts in cheers, fawning over the couple. Of course Alice is already crying, Polly demands to see the ring, while Charles and Jason pat Jug on the back. 

Y/N however stays put, her eyes falling down into her mug of spiked coffee that her mom had scolded her over, eyebrows raised over the rim as she knocks it back. 

“Aren’t you going to congratulate your sister?” Alice sends her a pointed look, catching her before she can slope off into the peaceful confines of the kitchen. 

“Congrats Betts.” She pulls her into a hug and paints on the biggest smile she can muster as she mumbles into her hair. “I’m so happy for you.”

And she is. Her sisters getting everything she’s dreamed of with Jug, of course she’s happy, but it’s hard to ignore the fact that her younger sister will be married before her. 

Even Charles has betrayed her this year and invited a date to Christmas dinner leaving her the last single Cooper. And her mom wasn’t prepared to let her forget it anytime soon. 

-

Sweet Pea successfully manages to make it through family movie night, forcefully sat between Josie and her mother, hot cocoa in hand and surrounded from all sides. He even grins and bares the series of photo albums that follow, another embarrassing photo of Josie lurking behind every page turn, but he draws the line when the marriage talk starts, declaring he’s suddenly tired and turns to run up the stairs so fast he’s surprised he doesn’t pull something on the way.

Sienna wakes them up on Christmas morning with a soft knock at 8am sharp, wearing a bright red Christmas jumper and holding two more for the both them.

The mere idea of it makes Sweet Pea’s skin itch as much as the material does once he begrudgingly pulls it over his head.

The rest of the morning is spent sipping coffee, watching the three McCoy’s exchanging gifts. He’s too distracted, wondering if it’s still too late to find a way out of the whole thing to even notice Josie standing in front of him until she’s shoved the present right under his nose.

“Merry Christmas my love.” She places it down on his lap and Sweet Pea finds himself wanting the ground to open up and swallow him whole.

“Jose I… I thought we said we weren’t doing gifts?” All three pairs of eyes are now on him, burning their way into his skin and he’s sure he’s never felt embarrassment like it.

“But that was just a joke, right?” He smiles awkwardly when she laughs, but the sound is humourless, and he can already see the anger bubbling behind her eyes. She doesn’t even give him the chance to reply. “What, so I’m good enough to sleep with but you can’t buy me a gift?”

He chokes, shocked by her transparency around her parents while his cheeks redden by the second.

Ten minutes later he’s out on the drive, bags thrown in the back of his truck, scrambling to get away as fast as he can.

-

Christmas Day ends the way it started.

Miserably sat at the kitchen table, sipping on something alcoholic held in her hand.

Polly and Jason had slipped off not long after dinner, taking two sugar high kids and all their loud noises with them. Betty and Jug now sit on one couch, his arms wrapped around her shoulders, her head resting on her chest, content in their own bubble of love while Alice sits on the other, quizzing Kevin Keller, Charles’ surprise date. She’d feel bad for him if she wasn’t already feeling relieved that her Mother’s attention had turned to someone else for five minutes. Her brother sits besides her, topping up a glass of red.

“He seems nice.” Charles hums in response, biting back a laugh. Was she missing a joke? “What?”

“If I tell you something, you can’t tell the others.” A quick eager nod and she’s shuffling closer so he can whisper his secret. “Kev’s just my Holidate.”

She blinks back in shock. “Holidate?”

“Just a date for the holiday, someone to keep Mom off my back.” He shrugs like it’s nothing, like it’s the simplest solution to the problem. He sips his wine while he waits for her to process it. “There’s no strings attached and I don’t have to spend events alone. I’m even heading down to his parents after New Years to return the favour.”

“Thats...” Y/N breathes out, she’s a little envious she hadn’t thought of it herself. “What an idea.”

-

Y/N sinks into a booth at Pop’s Chocklit Shoppe two days later with a sigh of relief, happy to welcome the peace that comes with being away from her family.

She loves them, her siblings, her mother, the twins, of course but it’s exhausting. The intruding questions, the never ending merry go round of pity and interfering. She knows deep down it’s only because they care, but sometimes she wished they’d just leave her alone.

Pops promptly brings her order of curly fries over, with a soft smile and an extra chocolate shake on the side she didn’t order. It’s been two years since she last stepped into the place, yet he still remembers her favourite like it was yesterday.

“It’s good to see you Y/N.” There’s something in his tone that just feels like home and she finds herself welcoming it, it’s been a long time since anything in Riverdale has felt anything close to that, not since the truth about her dad.

Pops doesn’t stick around, a light pat to her shoulder before he’s a retreating form, leaving her to her thoughts. She barely makes it through a fry before someone’s sliding in opposite her.

Sweet Pea pushes the key across the table, grinning cheekily as he helps himself to the basket in front of him. She barely knows him and he’s already stealing her food. “One fully functional car.”

“Finally!” She snatched them up, hiding them

in her bag and he can see the tension practically melting from her shoulders. “Now I can get out of the hell hole.”

“Christmas went that well? He asks, curiosity peaked.

“You could say that.” She presses herself further into her seat, huffing as she rubs the palm of her hands against her jeans. The anxious look in her eyes tells him that what ever she might say next won’t necessarily make sense and she’s a little embarrassed by it. “My sister got engaged.”

“To FPS son right?” He vaguely recalls his boss proudly telling anyone who would listen that morning. “And that’s a bad thing?”

“She’s my younger sister, and now, as I’m about to be the only official unmarried Cooper daughter my mom has even more of an excuse to interfere in my love life.” The words just slip out and she finds part of her gladly confessing her thoughts to a virtual stranger instead of keeping them in. He smiles in a way that tells her he gets it.

“Yeah well, bet you a chocolate shake mine was worse.” He ignores the glare she sends him when he innocently brings her existing milkshake to his lips and continues when she says nothing. “I spent it with someone I’ve been dating for four weeks and her parents.”

She almost chokes on a curly fry. “You got serious that quick?”

“Of course not, and we both knew it.” She stares at him like he has two heads, he knows she can’t quite fit ‘causal relationship’ and ‘family Christmas’ together so he does it for her. “Didn’t want to spend the day alone so I took her up on the offer. Cue overbearing parents, the cringest matching jumpers and the ultimate gift exchange where I got her nothing because we agreed no presents.”

“Aren’t you old enough to know by now that no gifts definitely means get her a gift?” She laughs when he rolls his eyes.

“Ended with her kicking me out before dinner.” She shakes her head, laughs again as she calls him tragic and a tiny part of him agrees. “And now I’m officially dateless for New Year’s Eve.”

“Thanks for reminding me I have to come back in a few days to attend Riverdale’s Annual Blossom New Years Eve Party alone for the second year running.” She wrinkles her nose in disgusted, unprepared to have her friends on her back as well as her family, and ends up missing the way his eyebrows raise in surprise.

“You know Toni and Cheryl?”

“T’s been my best friend longer than I can remember and Cheryl’s brother is married to my sister, guess you could say I know them pretty well.” She tilts her head to the side, eying him slowly, like she suddenly sees him in a different way. “How’d you know them?”

“Guess you could say I spend more time than I should at the Wyrm.” The mention of Toni’s bar lights up her face. “Plus Toni’s been a really good friend to me since I got here, I was actually meant to be taking Josie to their party.”

“I think I know a way to solve our little problem.” A plan suddenly forms in her head, he doesn’t know whether to be worried or not as he watches the smile on her face widen. “Sweet Pea how would you like to be my Holidate this Friday?”

“Your holi-what?”

Forever Taglist: @p-marie-sp

Sweet Pea Taglist: @80sand90simagine @wildberryyyy @hopelesslylosttheway @be-gay-do-crime-cutie

Holidate Taglist: @popcrone818

[bopbopstyles]

3. More Than a Song

SERIES RATING: M (sex)

CHAPTER WORD COUNT: 9.7k

MASTERLIST | INSPO TAG | ASK

Y/N promised herself she would never date a musician. It was her one rule–her only rule, actually–when it came to dating. But then, Harry Styles rolled into her life and asked her to break it, just this once. And this is what happened.

a/n: prepare for ANGST! and dunkirk premiere harry aka one of his best looks ever :) also thank u to @havethetimeofyourstyles for making my line breaks bc i’m inept at making things xoxo

pls reblog to spread the word about only exception! 🥰

“Baby,” Harry said, turning to her from where he stood in his closet. “Can you help me with my collar? I can’t get it.”

Y/N set down her phone—she was ready first, which wasn’t surprising considering it took Harry ages to get ready, partially because he kept getting distracted with her. He’d touch her, run his hands all over her, ask if he could get her out of her lingerie, and she’d have to remind him that she’d barely even had it on and they had an important event. “Sure.”

Harry looked dashing—he always did. After much debate, they had decided on a simple white silk short-sleeved button down and a pair of flared black pants, cool enough for May in LA, but still perfectly Harry. Y/N had painted his nails last night a pastel purple while they had watched a documentary about sheep—which Harry had selected—and the color popped against the neutrals of the rest of the outfit. Shoes were still up in the air, but Y/N was trying to get him to wear the yellow loafers he’d gotten recently, the ones she was so obsessed with she was considering stealing for herself.

Somehow Harry always managed to mess up his collars before big nights, the nerves probably getting to him. Y/N smoothed the material on his shoulders to relax him before popping up his collar and folding it back down crisply. “There you go.” In the mirror in front of Harry, her eyes trailed down his body, from his sweet curls she had labored over styling in the bathroom, to the recently tailored pants he wore. She wrapped her arms around his waist and squeezed, a smile dancing onto Harry’s face at the action. “Nervous, bubs?”

He turned his head and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. “Bit. More for you to hear it than anyone else.”

The honesty of his statement brought butterflies to her tummy. Harry had been in and out of meetings for the past few months getting together the release of his debut album and putting the final touches on it, but at no point had he let her hear it. She suspected it was because he was scared she’d hate it, but when she asked her dad about it, he told her to think about it as his journal. His journal of a past that Y/N hadn’t been a part of. That had made Y/N understand a bit better, the prospect of being nervous of what she’d think of him more the worry than a worry of what she’d think of the music. So she nuzzled her nose into his shoulder, careful not to get lipstick on the fabric, and told him, “I’m going to love it. It’ll be perfect, just like you.”

Harry’s arms wrapped backwards so he could hold her to him and they stood there, holding one another, basking in each other’s presence before everyone else arrived. It had been a busy couple months for them to start a relationship—Y/N was swamped at work, her boss having left so she had to take on extra work, and Harry was releasing his album, Dunkirk was coming out in the summer, and his tour started in the fall. It was a lot to say the least, and Y/N tried not to think about it too often because she’d get all in her head and ignore Harry’s texts for hours until he called her and asked her if she wanted gummy worms or Hershey’s for movie night. Then, she’d remind herself that they were doing good—really good, even. Better than other relationships that she had been in for this long. Usually this was when she got bored, but with Harry she kept falling for him more and more every day they spent with each other.

He was like a drug, and she was addicted.

“We should head down,” Y/N said, brushing back from him. “Wear the yellow ones, yeah?”

He mumbled something under his breath about her being bossy and coming for Lambert’s job and she snorted, leaving him in the walk-in closet to straighten himself out. Her phone in her hand, she slipped on her heels, a summer sandal with a platform so her feet didn’t hurt, the perfect compliment to her flowing sundress she’d selected for the release party. When Harry had seen it he’d promptly asked if she could take it off so he could ravish her, so she decided it was a good choice. It emphasized her curves in a way that made her feel confident and she’d pinned her hair over one shoulder, the earrings Harry had gotten her for their three-month anniversary on display.

Re-emerging, Harry rolled his eyes over her body and she gave him a soft smile at the way his eyes screamed with desire. “See something you like?”

“Fuck yes,” he cursed. “Can’t wait to have you all to myself later.” Hands in hers, he pressed a searing kiss to her lips, the kind that made her toes curl, before pulling back. “C’mon, Azoff is yelling at me over text about being late to my own party.”

“It’s literally downstairs,” she pointed out. “He’s just mad he can’t embarrass you in front of your friends.”

Harry laughed, arm tucked around her waist as they descended the stairs of his house. He’d bought it at the end of February, a birthday gift to himself, and Y/N had thought to herself at the time that it wasn’t about her, it was about him. But it was kind of hard whenever he had her help him pick out all the furniture, making sure she approved of the colors he painted the walls and the patio furniture.

Downstairs, the party was in full force. Harry hadn’t invited too many people, mostly the same crowd as his birthday. Since it was at his house, he was hesitant to give the address out to too many people, but ultimately he wanted to be able to do whatever the fuck he wanted to celebrate, no paps around. Also, it was hot and he had a pool, so he had told everyone to bring a swimsuit just in case they wanted to take a dip. Y/N had persuaded him to keep it simple and they’d ordered pizza from his favorite place and she made some a ton of margaritas for everyone to help themselves to. Jeff was left in charge of the door when Harry was late finishing getting dressed, and she could tell that he had done a fine job. The tunes were going, people were drinking, and everyone seemed happy. He had even put the album countdown that Y/N had spent two hours making that morning on the TV.

“Stay close to me, please?” Harry asked her, bending his head to whisper in her ear when they reached the group.

Y/N nodded, and Harry began happily talking to Jeff. Y/N started up a conversation with another one of the Full Stop employees who had come who she’d met at a brunch a few weeks ago, plucking some details from her brain about her boyfriend to check-in about. Then, a familiar face flashed in the crowd. “Hanna!”

Harry had suggested the idea of inviting her best friends to the party and Y/N had leapt at the idea. The prospect of having her two favorite people be there with her to celebrate her boyfriend was her idea of a perfect night. Hanna’s red hair popped up, her smile giddy from seeing Y/N. Cutting through the crowd, she quickly made it to Y/N, who wrapped her best friend up in a tight hug.

“I’m so happy you’re here,” she said. “Find it okay?”

Hanna nodded. “Security at the gate did not want to let me in though. Jamie is on his way—Cole called while he was walking out the door.” Jamie and Cole had been together for years and Y/N decided the first time she met Cole that there wasn’t anyone better for Jamie, and Jamie seemed to agree. “How are you?”

“Amazing,” Y/N replied and she truly was. She felt like she was on cloud nine right now, the energy bouncing off of Harry absorbing into every one of her pores. “Excited to finally hear it.”

“You should be.” Hanna leaned over and tapped Harry on the shoulder.

His attention shifted from some work-related conversation with Jeff quickly over to his girlfriend’s best friend. “Oh, hello Hanna,” he said, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek. “Thank you so much for coming.”

“No place I’d rather be,” Hanna replied. “Now can I steal Y/N?”

Harry’s eyes lingered on Y/N, but he gave her a warm smile. “‘Course.”

Y/N followed her best friend out onto the patio, giving hugs and saying hello to the friends of Harry’s she’d met during the past few months of them being together. Harry watched her with awe at how well she had fit into his life, she’d succeeded faster than any other girl he’d ever dated. The tidbits of information she remembered and the way she made an effort to be present in the conversations, her deep knowledge of music and the industry coming in handy. He loved having a girl at her side who knew what all of his team did without him having to explain it to her. It was small, but it made a difference to him.

“H,” Mitch said, pulling his gaze from his girlfriend back to the conversation he’d been having with Mitch, Adam, and Sarah. “You good?”

“Yeah,” he replied, taking a sip of the margaritas Y/N had made for the party. She’d slaved over them all day while he was on calls and doing interviews and he appreciated it so much. He reminded himself to tell her later when he had her alone and could tell her properly.

Sarah smiled at him knowingly. “He’s just looking at Y/N, as usual.”

Mitch and Adam chuckled, but Harry frowned. “Am I not allowed to look at my girl?”

“You are,” Adam said, “just be careful, mate. You told us about the rule, remember?”

The Rule. The goddamn rule that controlled this relationship more than he felt like he did, sometimes. He didn’t know how much Y/N thought about it at this point in their relationship, but then again it was still technically pretty early in the grand scheme of things. But for him, it was a constant reminder than their time together was fleeting, that at any point she might want to leave him, his lifestyle too hard. And it’s not that he blamed her. He just hated that it was a possibility. “I know.”

“How’s it going?” Adam pressed. Harry had been distant these past few weeks, holing himself up in the house with Y/N every chance he got when they weren’t rehearsing and he wasn’t on a call. It was hectic and he knew that his friends worried about him.

Harry took another sip of his margarita, eyes finding Y/N out on the patio laughing with Hanna, hair blowing in the wind. “Been good. She seems really happy,” he continued at the sight of her smile. “Bit nervous about tonight, if I’m being honest though.” He’d told Y/N the same thing, but the pit in his stomach still lingered. She had said she was excited, but he didn’t know how she would react to him releasing an album full of songs about his exes and flings.

They all got it though. “About which song?”

“All of ‘em,” he said nervously, and it was true. Y/N came into his life after the album was done, the idea of adding a song about her impossible. Even though he could’ve written dozens—he already had, the voice memos on his phone to prove it. Sometimes he’d sneak away to the bathroom while she slept to sing something that popped into his head, and the few that he’d shown the band they liked. It was all material for the next album, they told him. Some of them had even become full-fledged songs after a few hours locked in his office, but he hadn’t shared them yet. They still felt too raw.

Sarah reached out a hand and squeezed Harry’s shoulder. “She’ll get it, H. Her dad’s a musician, you know? If there was anyone who would understand, it would be her.”

And she was probably right. But there was a feeling in his gut that Harry couldn’t shake—that tonight wouldn’t end well for them. He’d felt it when he had woken up this morning and no matter how many time he kissed Y/N to make it go away, it lingered and it was making his brain go wild.

He hoped it was just the nerves.

The night passed quickly. There were speeches, a cake, Jeff pulled out a bottle of champagne, and Y/N had rejoined Harry at his side for the most part. And at this party, there was no question as to who she was—to everyone she was “Y/N, my girlfriend,” and Harry loved it. Particularly the look on her face that she would get every once in a while when her eyes caught his. He didn’t know what to call it, but he just knew that he felt the same way.

Before he knew it, it was 11:59 and everyone had gathered in the living room. The TV had the countdown on that Y/N had designed, the album cover with the numerical countdown over it, another bottle of champagne in Harry’s hand, ready to pop. Y/N stood a few people away from him, watching him with that look in her eyes that she’d been giving him all night that made him weak in the knees and made him curious what she would do to him when they were upstairs. He knew why Y/N was keeping her distance right now—she had mentioned it once before when they were curled up in bed after Harry asked her to be put down as a co-host for the party, that this success was his and his alone. That she was here at the end and she wanted it to be all his. She was here to support him and give him kisses after, but it was all his.

“10, 9, 8.” This was it. It was Harry’s debut album, his first solo record. It was weird for the rest of the guys to not be here when an album dropped. Usually, they were all standing together with bottles of champagne, ready to celebrate with one another.

“7, 6, 5, 4.” And Harry didn’t know which one was worse and which was better. Maybe they were both equally as wonderful, because he had other friends here to stand by his side. Jeff, Sarah, Mitch, Adam. James, floating around somewhere. His mum and sister tried to be here but Gemma got sick and Anna wanted to stay behind to take care of her.  

“3, 2,” He had Y/N. He had Y/N’s excited expression, her wide eyes and flushed cheeks, the look of pride on her face that he treasured.

“1!” But this was his, his success, his win. With the first notes of the album playing in the room, he popped the bottle of champagne and with the bubbles running down the side of the bottle, he took a long swig.

Cheers went up around him, his best friends celebrating his biggest success of his career thus far, one he’d fought long and hard for. One he was immensely proud of and he hoped he would always look back on fondly. And the sound of his album blaring in his house’s sound system—the sound of Meet Me in the Hallway, it brought him to tears.

“Aww, man,” Adam brought him into a hug, patting Harry softly on his back. “Y/N! Come here!”

Y/N was there in an instant, wrapping Harry up in her arms, his head falling onto her shoulder, sobs wracking his body as they stood there. He didn’t even care that his friends were all there witnessing him crying into his girlfriend’s shoulder, he was just so overwhelmed.

“You okay, bubs?” Y/N asked, petting the back of his head softly.

“It’s a lot,” he replied softly, trying to find the words. “Happy. But also just…”

Her hands ran up and down his back, rubbing circles. “I know, baby. You don’t need to explain, okay?”

Harry didn’t reply, just tried to find his breath and stop the tears that were welling in his eyes. And when he did, he lifted his head and his lips met Y/N’s, the sound of whoops and cat-calls breaking out around them. The middle finger that Harry raised to them all did nothing to stifle them either. “Thank you,” he said into her hair when they broke.

The feeling of her lips on his neck, a soft kiss, brought him to his knees. “Always.”

And Harry hoped it was true.

While the rest of the party swirled around her—dancing had broke out, James had started making themed drinks, his favorite being the Sign of the Times one—Y/N sat right in front of the speaker, listening to every word of the album. It was her first time hearing it and she knew Harry would probably play it for her later, but she wanted to hear it now. She wanted to hear his pride and joy, the thing that had him beaming and laughing with his friends, belting out the lyrics with Mitch and Adam in a conga line that was worming its way through the room.

And what she heard broke her heart in so many ways.

Y/N knew that music, and much of art, stemmed from pain and hurt. A good amount of it was also about love, but the songs that were some of the rawest, the ones that hit home for most people, were the ones about our darkest moments. Harry’s album was full of them. Heartbreak, heartache, regrets, addiction to people and things. It was chock full of every one of his deepest darkest secrets, especially the women who he had loved before he met her. There was a part of her that knew that he would tell her in his own time about the stories of some of these women—he had mentioned a few when she’d asked about them—and that she didn’t need to push, but there was this disgusting, self-sabotaging part of her that wanted to know every sordid detail, even though she knew it would hurt her.

This was one of the many reasons she had always told herself she would never date a musician, but more importantly that she would never fall for one. Because their relationship, their joys and pitfalls, heartache and brightest moments, it was all fodder for a song, an album, a career. It wasn’t the artist’s fault, that’s how it worked, but that didn’t make it any easier to be the person they were writing about.

Was that all she was? Another girl for Harry to write a song about?

She wanted to be happy for him, to be glowing and beaming for him, but the part of her that she hated, the part that conjured the worst possible parts of people, it was crawling out of her head. It was twisting Harry and she knew it, but that didn’t mean she didn’t believe it.

The album only lasted 40 minutes, but in those 40 minutes the party died down. People had jumped in the pool while Y/N sat by the speaker, they had finished their drinks, they had said their goodbyes, the object of the event passed. Hanna and Jamie came over and gave her hugs, concerned looks on their faces, and told her to call them if she needed anything. When she looked up, the last notes of From the Dining Table fading, it was just her left.

A light from the patio twinkled and she could see the water rippling under the moonlight. Harry.

She left the stereo silent, not cuing up another playlist, and tugged off her shoes, then her dress. Following the pull of the man who had written such a beautiful, heartbreaking, hopeful record, she walked to the patio.

“There you are.” He was floating on his back in just his boxers, which didn’t surprise Y/N in the slightest. The fairy lights they had strung up together were dim in the nighttime darkness, but just bright enough so she could see Harry and all his beauty. “Look bloody gorgeous, love.”

Y/N tucked her hair into a loose bun at the nape of her neck, knotting the hair so it stayed. “Finished the album,” she said, walking to the water’s edge.

“Yeah?” Harry swam over to her, leaning his head on her thighs that rested on the concrete that lined the pool. “What’d you think?”

She couldn’t help the heartbroken smile that graced her features, because she was too tired to lie to him. Exhausted from trying to pretend that she didn’t think about the fact that he could leave her at any moment, that the insecurities of who she was and who he was didn’t catch up to her sometimes. His fingertips brushed at her cheeks and Y/N realized she was crying.

“Y/N? What’s wrong?” He hoisted himself out of the water and hooked one of his legs around her waist, pulling her into his wet skin. It was cold against the night air, but somehow Harry was still warm to her.

“I don’t know how to say this,” she said slowly, struggling to find her words.

Fingers drifted up and down her back. “Just do your best.”

She tried not to think about the fact that she was crying on his album release day, that they were having this conversation now. One that sat in the back of her mind when she was alone and Harry couldn’t banish it. “The album is beautiful, Harry,” she started, “but it’s about a past that I wasn’t a part of.” Harry was quiet, but his arms didn’t move from their place around her, so she forged on. “I know that artists write from their experience, and that this album was done before I met you, but there’s this part of me, this horrible part that I utterly despise, that is jealous of them. The women who you wrote about. And the fact that it’s them that you’re going to sing about on stage every night. Does that make sense?”

The brush of his chin against her spine showed her that yes, he understood.

“And,” she continued, voice breaking, “I can’t stop thinking about the fact that maybe I’m going to be a song.”

“Of course you’re going to be a song,” Harry said, his voice soft and sweet.

He didn’t get it. To him, being a song was an honor, but to her, it was a threat almost. “No—it’s that I’m going to be only a song.”

The man next to her didn’t say a word. The chirp of the crickets stretched between their bodies, which were still close on the concrete floor, not a muscle moved.

“I don’t want to only be a song.” Y/N’s voice was hoarse, sobs wracking her body she didn’t expect, didn’t want. She couldn’t have this conversation if she was crying, but she couldn’t hold them in either. It was her biggest fear, the one that festered below all of the others, threatening to consume the relationship she had with a man she was falling for. And falling was the only way to describe it—without any support, a free fall that was utterly terrifying but also blissful peaceful.

Suddenly, his fingers swept across her neck, brushing against her sensitive skin. “Y/N,” he whispered, “you could never be just a song. You’re—you’re like the stars and the moon to me. In that room I could always feel you, wherever you were, and I didn’t want to be anywhere where you weren’t. And maybe this is too fast and too soon, but what I feel for you, fuck Y/N how can you not see how much you are to me?”

He pulled her head so she faced him, his eyes teary to match her own. “Do you hear me? You’re so much more than a song. You’re an album. You’re my life’s work, my masterpiece, a symphony. A song can’t contain how I feel for you, it’s just a piece of a billion I could write.”

Soft as a feather, his lips pressed to her cheeks and then up and across her forehead, over her eyelids, barely leaving a mark but a searing fire in his wake that shook Y/N’s core. “And Y/N, you’re better than a song. You’re my life. You’re here, you’re real, you’re with me. Y/N, you will never be just a song to me. You never could be. Not to me.”

Y/N rested her forehead against his, inhaling his cologne and exhaling her feelings for him. He managed to rip down all her defenses, the ones she had spent years building up, and it was frightening. But then she looked at him, the way he smiled at her, the way he kissed her, the way he said her name, and it wasn’t quite as scary. She hoped he could feel how much she cared for him in the way she kissed him, their tears blending into one as they scrambled for each other. Lips breaking and meeting, desperate for more and more and more. Her fingers gripped the back of his head, holding him to her, wanting to have his whole body imprinted on hers.

“Y/N,” he breathed, “you heard me? You understand?”

“Yes,” she replied softly, “I hear you.” She brushed her fingers through his hair gently, curling the wet strands back. “You may need to remind me sometimes.”

“Always,” he whispered, catching her kiss with his own, tugging her into him, arms around her body in a vice grip.

She lost herself in Harry, him an ocean and her a boat lost at sea. Maybe it was their conversation or the night or the alcohol flowing through their veins, but it felt different. The way he kissed her felt heavier, her moans a prayer, his fingers on his back a weight she never wanted lifted. Her legs wrapped around his waist so she was firmly in his lap, arms thrown over his shoulders, their bare bodies except for their underwear pressed against each other without a molecule of air between them.

His lips drew a line across the top of her shoulder, a fire building in her belly as his fingers fumbled with the clasp of her bra. It was a light pink she’d worn just for him and when he nudged at the strap with his nose, letting it slip from her shoulders, she didn’t care that he could barely see it. She’d show him tomorrow morning. He pulled the fabric away and bent his head, licking at one of her nipples and then the other, gasps falling from her mouth like poetry. Without meaning to, her hips rolled over his cock, the thin fabric of their underwear doing nothing to keep the heat of her center from touching his sensitive skin.

He moaned her name, the sound muffled against her neck as he sucked a love bite into the spot that made her keen every time he nipped into it. She rocked again on him, his fingers digging into her skin so hard it would leave marks tomorrow but she didn’t care. In fact, she wanted to have his marks on her tomorrow, she wanted to show the world that she wasn’t just a song, she was his, she was his girlfriend and she made him feel this way.

Hands on skin, he pressed her down onto the concrete so she was lying down, her ankles tucked around his hips, anchoring her to him. When his hips bucked into hers, she let out a sharp cry, the angle brushing her clit perfectly. “Right there?” He mumbled, nipping and tugging on her nipple, laving a circle that left her squirming against the concrete.

“Off,” she whispered, tugging at his boxers with her hands. “Wanna feel you.” With his help, they shimmied off his boxers without too much difficulty and Y/N let out a sigh of relief when she could feel his cock brush against her covered folds. Reaching a hand down, she brushed the pad of her thumb across his tip, a pained hiss flying from Harry’s throat. He was sensitive and Y/N loved it.

They didn’t have a condom, but she didn’t care. She’d been on birth control for years and she knew Harry hadn’t slept with anyone else since she found her way into his life. Plus, she needed him—she wanted to feel him, raw and bare inside of her.

They were going to have sex on the concrete next to his pool, but she didn’t care. They had had sex before and they would have sex again. She just needed him in a desperate, crawling way. When he nudged at her underwear she pressed into him, letting him pull them down her legs without a second thought.

“Condom,” Harry mumbled as she chased after his lips, open mouthed and heavy.

“It’s okay,” she said, fingers digging into his shoulder blades. “Want you like this.”

Harry’s head dropped to the space between her neck and shoulder, the groan that filled the air unlike anything she had heard before. “Gonna ruin me,” he whispered, brushing his cock against her folds. Y/N whimpered at the sensation, her fingers begging him for more, for anything she would give him. When his fingers brushed her clit, his name tumbled from her lips without abandon.

“Harry, please,” she panted, fingers deep in his hair.

That was all it took. She was so wet from the foreplay and just him that he didn’t even need to stretch her out. Her mouth fell open as he pushed inside, a mewl landing on his lips as he kissed her. Slowly, he pulled out and then back in, both of them groaning from the sensation of him being bare inside her. He felt impossibly close, every ridge and edge of him pressing against her in the most perfect way. She didn’t know if she could use condoms again, because holding Harry to her chest, arms around his shoulders as he fucked slowly, deeply, into her, her able to feel every inch of her, it was bliss on a new level. A sensation she didn’t know she was missing with him.

Her ankles hitched higher on his hips and when he pushed back in he hit a new angle, a groan ripping from his throat that set her on fire. “Can I go faster?” He said with a grunt. “I—I don’t know how much—“

“Yes,” she whimpered at his words.

He didn’t wait. He drew back and into her, pistoning his hips at a pace she couldn’t even describe, hitting that spot deep inside of her that made her eyes roll back over and over. How he managed to do that she didn’t know, but he deserved an award. Fingers grabbing at his skin in desperation for something to hold her together, Y/N gasped and exhaled his name, a plea and a beg and a prayer all in one. Her back hurt from the concrete but she didn’t care, she just wanted to finish, to feel him release deep inside of her.

Then he thumbed over her clit and she arched up, back leaving the concrete as the fire deep within her threatened to bubble over. When he start brushing circles there, Y/N gripped his shoulders like they would keep her anchored to Earth, her body possibly transcending. Harry bent his head and sucked a love bite on her breast, the puncture of skin forcing her head back, unable to keep it together.

“You close?” He asked, littering her chest with kisses, “Please tell me you are, I can’t, I can’t hold on…”

She mumbled a yes as he drove deep inside of her, swiveling his hips in a brutal way that left her hands squeezing his butt cheeks to get him to do it again. When he did, she swore she saw stars. “Gonna come,” she said, eyes searching for his lips in the low lighting. “Kiss?”

Without hesitation, he kissed her, open mouthed and dirty and sloppy and perfect. She wanted every rough-edged and sweet part of him, every kiss and press of his body against hers. “Y/N, Y/N, Y/N,” he chanted as he pressed into her again and again, her body drawing tighter and tighter. Then, he pinched her clit and she came, the ball in her tummy unravelling, hips bucking up against him as she rode out her high. Her eyes stayed trained on him as she did, not wanting to miss his face when he came inside of her.

His hips stuttered, release unloading inside of her in ropes that left him cursing like a sailor. Hair wet and sweaty, sticking to his forehead, and irises blown out, he looked beautiful. She held him close until his body settled, shaking as he came down from his high, forehead resting on the swell of her breasts.

Slowly, he rolled off of her, tugging her body into his so she wasn’t on the cold concrete anymore. He was fiery hot and it kept her warm in the cold air. “Can we never use a rubber again?” He asked softly, and she giggled, hiding her face in his neck.

“Don’t see any reason to,” she replied and he hummed with joy. Tucking her hands under her chin, she looked at him with a smile. “Congrats on your album, baby.”

He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear tenderly. “I’m so happy I shared today with you.” She kissed him softly and let him hold her close, not wanting to move even to go to bed because it meant leaving his grasp. And as much as her head told her that it wasn’t forever, she couldn’t help but hope it would be.

It had been four days since Harry had texted her. Five since he called her. Six since they FaceTimed.

He was in London for the press junket for Dunkirk and Y/N was supposed to fly out for the July 13th premiere—it was decided a month ago, the tickets booked and her time off from work already approved. But as the days stretched on and the silence grew longer, she couldn’t help but wonder if something was wrong. If she had done something wrong.

It wasn’t the first time he had been away from LA. They had a conversation about how they were going to handle distance when he travelled back in April, before the album came out and he had to fly around and do press for two weeks. That time, though, he handled it well—he called every night before she went to bed if he could, if not, he sent a long voice memo that she listened to when she woke up. They texted all day, him sending photos from dressing rooms and backstage at talk shows, even FaceTiming her so she could meet the stars he shared the nights with.

But this time was different. Since he left he had texted her just a handful of times and it was when he was at his mom’s house visiting home before press started. And then once press kicked into gear, he was gone, her texts ignored, calls not returned. She was trying not to seem desperate, but with the more time that passed the more anxious she got. It wasn’t how this was supposed to go, this wasn’t what they’d agreed on. He knew her fears, the dark thoughts that crowded in when she spent too much time worrying about their relationship, and yet he wasn’t taking the actions that helped her calm down. Even though she knew it wasn’t his responsibility to take care of her brain, it helped to know he thought about her, at the very least.

The morning before her flight was supposed to leave, she called Hanna in a panic. Her suitcases laid open on her bed, clothes scattered around her, tears streaming down her face. She had tried to call Harry again to confirm her arrival plans, only to be met with his voicemail, again.

Hi, you’ve reached Harry. I’ll give you a call back when I can!

Somehow, the sound of his voice made it worse.

“Han,” she choked out when her friend picked up, “I don’t know what to do.”

“Did he not answer?” Hanna had been counseling her through the whole thing, helping her stay calm and sane, as much as possible at least. From Y/N’s lack of response, just more sobs, Hanna knew immediately. “That prick.”

Y/N wiped a tear from her eye and looked at the ticket in her hand. Harry had forced her to accept his offer of first-class, booking her flight through his agent and everything. “Does he even want me there? Should I not go?”

Hanna was quiet, thoughts rolling through her head. “No,” she finally said. “You should go. Even if it’s just to talk to him in person. You deserve to hear it face-to-face, not by him ghosting you.”

“Even if that means I end up in London and he breaks up with me?”

“Yes,” Hanna replied softly. “But I really, really hope that is not what’s happening.”

At first it had been that he was busy, that he would text when he had time, but it had been six days. Now, both Y/N and Hanna were increasingly worried that it meant the end of their relationship and Y/N was simply not ready for that possibility. She had let Harry in—he had begged her to let him in—and he was going to end things like this? When things got hard with the distance he just…cut her out? “Can you take me to the airport?” Y/N asked, sniffling. “If you don’t I don’t think I’ll be able to force myself to go.”

“Was already planning on it,” Hanna replied. “I’ll bring snacks for the flight.”

“Love you,” Y/N told her. Hanna was her one constant, who knew Y/N better than she knew herself.

“Love you more. Now go finish packing and call me if you need me, okay?”

Y/N told her okay and hung up, her gaze shifting to her suitcase. If he was going to break up with her, then she was going to look so magnificent he would regret every second of it.

Eleven hours in the air meant plenty of time to run over her entire relationship with Harry. She had sat curled up in her seat scrolling through her camera roll and listening to Bon Iver, which was the sappiest thing possible and she didn’t care. Y/N didn’t want to break up with him and the photos and the texts and the memories proved it. Her time with Harry had been so beautifully bright, his presence in her life making so much better, from her confidence to her knowledge to her music taste. And she cared about him in a way she hadn’t let herself do—ever.

She had texted Jeff before she took off, telling him she couldn’t get a hold of Harry and asking where she should go when she landed. He replied with Harry’s Hampstead address and the door code, saying there was a key waiting for her, hidden in the garden, an apology on Harry’s behalf for how busy he had been. The words meant nothing, though, to Y/N. If Harry wanted to apologize he would have to do it in person, not through Jeff.

It was eleven by the time her Uber pulled up to Harry’s house and she thanked the driver as he tugged her luggage from the boot. She waited until he pulled away before she typed in the gate code, not wanting to reveal Harry’s security to anyone—she have been mad at him, but she still didn’t want anything happening to him. The door unlocked for her and she slid inside, shutting it quickly behind her. Pulling her suitcase behind her, she walked up the path, searching for the garden statue Jeff had told her the key was hiding under. When she found it, her fingers ran across the ridges as she made her way to the front door.

His house in LA was warm, it was the Harry she knew. But this house felt colder, the design modern, his personal affects not as visible. Although to his credit, he hadn’t been here for more than a few days in months. A few photos of Anne and Gemma were scattered through the front hall, some framed photos of his time in One Direction nestled between them.

“Harry?” She knew he wasn’t there, but the idea of walking into his house without checking felt too uncomfortable for her. She locked the door tightly behind her, typing in the security code Jeff had sent before re-arming it.

Y/N took her time exploring his house. She perused the main spaces, testing out the couches and peeking at his bookcases, studying the art lining the walls. Then she made her way upstairs to the bedrooms, running her fingers along the edges of his One Direction album plaques that lined the walls of his office, the ones from his debut still resting on the floor waiting to be hung. She found the guest bedrooms with ease and she spent a good five minutes standing on the landing deciding if she should go into his bedroom or set herself up in a guest one.

She settled on a guest bedroom. If he was going to break things off, she didn’t want to know what his bed felt like or smell his clothes or take a shower in his bathroom.

Instead, she showered in the guest bath, washing off the plane smell that lingered on her body. She dressed in shorts and a tank top, letting her hair air dry since she would have to just re-style it for the premiere later. Jeff hadn’t told her what time Harry would be back and she was ravenous, so she wandered downstairs to fix herself some lunch. To fill the silence in the house she turned on The 1975, playing the music from her laptop she had open on the counter as she cooked some pasta she had found in the cabinet. As she ate at his dining table, she tried not to think about the fact that this could be the last time she was in a space of Harry’s. The last time she sat on things he had picked out, the last time she rooted through his fridge, past his obnoxious green juices and leftovers since he hated eating out if he didn’t have to. Her fingers brushed at her eyes, trying to stop the tears that threatened to fall down her cheeks.

Reaching down for her fork to take another bite, she suddenly heard the lock click in the front door and the security system begin to beep.

He was home.

She slid her bowl away from her and turned to look at the doorway, waiting to see his face for the first time in over a week. And when he appeared, she couldn’t the return the stretched across his face at the sight of her in his house. He looked the same and somehow that was worse. In a nice shirt from interviews this morning, his hair slightly tossed from running his fingers through it, the sheen on his upper lip from the heat outside. He looked like her Harry, but she didn’t know if he was hers anymore.

“Y/N!” His voice rebounded off the walls, filling her heart with a kind of hope that was crushing.

“Hi,” was all she could muster before looking back down at her pasta. An anger rose in her, replacing the hurt that had lingered for so many days. How could he pretend like everything was okay? How could he smile at her like he hadn’t been ignoring her for days, too busy to even check and see how her flight was?

His footsteps were heavy on the hardwood floors as he made his way over to her. “Baby? What is it?”

“Do you want to break up?” She asked, her question hard compared to his kind, gentle, tentative tone.

“What?” Harry dropped into the seat caddy-corner to the chair she sat in. “What are you talking about?”

She pushed away her bowl and looked him dead in the eye. “I haven’t heard from you in days, Harry. Days. I flew halfway across the world for you and you couldn’t even manage to check-in to see if I was alive?”

He flinched at her words, eyes dropping to the table they sat at. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, words barely audible above her heart beating a mile a minute, pulsing with anger.

“That’s not going to cut it,” she told him, standing up and taking her bowl to the sink. “You fucking ghosted me like I was a girl you’d just met. We’re about to celebrate six months together. And you know what this shit does to me.”

And he did. She could see in his eyes that he knew he was in the wrong, and yet he was quiet. “I was busy.”

“So was I! But I still found two seconds to text you asking how it was going, I found fifteen minutes before bed to call you, and I kept trying even though you couldn’t even manage to reply to me. You’re not that busy, Harry.”

He stood too, walking over to where she stood in his kitchen so that he was a few paces away from her. “I was in and out of interviews from morning to night and when I wasn’t, I was with the cast who I haven’t seen in almost a year. And when I wasn’t doing that Jeff was harassing me about tour details or I was sleeping. I’m sorry if my schedule didn’t allow me to talk to you at every second of the day, Y/N, but this is a huge moment for me and I had to focus on that.” His words were measured, but she could feel the tension rising between them, words unsaid bubbling over.

“And your career is more important than our relationship.” She nodded sarcastically, wiping her wet palms on the dish towel and turning to face him. “Got it, heard loud and clear.”

“Fuck—you know it’s not!” His hand ran through his locks and down his face, struggling to get a handle on his breathing.

“Harry,” she said, trying not to yell, “I’m not going to force you to stay in a relationship that you don’t want to put the time in for. But you know exactly what I need from you—I have been very clear. You know my fears and my insecurities, and you know what triggers them. We had a plan for how to deal with this, and you completely disregarded it!” Her voice rose at the end, the fact that he couldn’t even meet her eyes pushing all of her buttons. “Fucking look at me when I talk to you!”

His eyes met hers and she didn’t see the Harry she knew, the Harry who cared for her, the soft, gentle man. Instead, she saw someone who was pissed off and hurt and grasping at straws. “I can’t dance around your fears every moment of the day,” he said, voice spitting anger. “And I’m sorry if that breaks one of your rules,” the word hitting her in the face, “but you’re going to have to get over it because I can’t spend every second of the day wondering if something I did or said has made you think I don’t care about you! You should know that I don’t want to hurt you, that of course I want to be with you!”

“Well, how am I supposed to know if you don’t tell me!” His words stabbed her right where it hurt, hitting her fears right in the heart.

Harry turned, his body facing the counter, fingers gripping the edge of the marble. He sucked in breath after breath trying to calm himself down and Y/N tried to find it within herself to have sympathy for him, but she just…couldn’t. She was so pissed off at him she couldn’t think straight.

“I’m not some girl waiting around for Harry Styles to come home, begging him to never leave me,” Y/N said. She was done. She was done with this fight, with him expecting her to be someone she wasn’t. “I’m me and I’m waiting for Harry, the person I care for so deeply it hurts—you are held to the same standards as every other guy, no matter how busy your schedule is. I should not be expected to fit into your schedule all the time. It goes both ways and you operated this week as if it was entirely my job to stay in touch with you. And I am not going to stay in a relationship like that.”

Harry’s head whipped to hers, eyes boring straight into her. “Are you saying you want to break up?”

Y/N tried to keep her head high, tried to hold back the tears. “If you’re going to do this when you’re on tour, I’m done. You know what I want—it’s the same thing I wanted from this relationship the moment I met you. You’re the only one who seems to think things have changed.” And with that, she stormed out of the room, which was probably petty but she didn’t care. She was so mad at him for his actions and his words that she couldn’t stand to be in the same room as him.

Harry didn’t follow her.

At 1 o’clock, a knock came on her door.

“If you still want to come, we have to leave for the premiere in an hour. It’s up to you.” And with that, he walked away, not even waiting for her to open the door.

She sat on the bed, considering her options. Did she go and support him anyway, pretend everything was fine? Or did she stay here—or maybe find a hotel—and leave him alone for the premiere?

He had told her how nervous he was about this. This was his first time on a movie red carpet as an actor and he was freaking out about it before he left, a ball of anxiety that she had to carefully untangle. The thought of him being up there alone pained her, despite how his hurtful words lingered in her head. That she had to get over it as if it was that simple.

The red dress she had bought for the premiere hung in the bathroom where she had left it while she showered so the wrinkles would leave the fabric. It was beautiful—a tiered taffeta skirt that cinched in at the waist, a caged bodice showing off her shoulders. When she had tried it on she had felt beautiful, powerful, as if she could take on anything and everything. She had spent a ton of money on the dress and she didn’t want to waste it.

So she got up, turning on BANKS and set about her hair and makeup in the bathroom, praising Hanna for teaching her how to do her makeup in college. She painted her lips red, in the shade that she adored wearing, and twisted up her hair into a chignon that emphasized her neck. Running her fingers along the skin she remembered when Harry had kissed it, but the love bite he had left behind was long healed. Was she asking too much of him? She wondered as she looked at herself in the mirror. Was he right, were her fears stifling him?

Then she remembered what Hanna had told her. That he wasn’t anyone different from other guys she had dated, and what she was asking from him wasn’t out of left field. Any guy she would date she would except to check in with her when he was traveling and Harry was no different, no matter what his job was.

Harry was waiting downstairs for her, probably having heard her rummaging around in the closet. When he heard her heels on the stairs, he looked up and his eyesight on her skin burned because he looked gorgeous. Maybe this was a horrible idea, she thought as she made her way towards him. She would have to touch him all night, look at him in his tailored suit, gaze into his green eyes as they were photographed on the red carpet.

“You look beautiful,” he said, words gravelly in his throat.

She stopped a few paces away from him. “Thanks.”

He fiddled with his keys, the silence stretching between them. “Thank you for coming with me. I know you have no reason to, but having you there…It means a lot.”

Instead of replying, because she didn’t have words for him, she just nodded. Because she did have a reason—even though she was mad at him, she still cared for him. Despite not wanting to, she still craved him giving her a kiss on the cheek as they walked out the door.

The drive to the red carpet was quiet, the radio playing softly in the background the only sound. They sat on either side of the backseat, Y/N staring out the window while Harry fiddled with his phone. She hadn’t been to London since she was 18 for her graduation present from her mom, and the city held warm memories for her. She wondered if that would change after today.

When they pulled up, an anxiety Y/N didn’t know she was holding started building, the sight of the photographers and the screams from the fans barricaded in. With all that had been happening, she had somehow forgotten what going to the premiere meant for her. Her eyes fell to Harry who was staring at her, trying to gauge her reaction. She had never done this before and he knew that.

“I’ll be with you the whole time,” he said, trying to calm her fears. “Promise.” It helped. At least she wouldn’t be completely alone. “Ready?” He stretched out a hand to her and she took it, letting him help her from the car.

The second her feet hit the pavement, the screams got louder. Fans with signs and their phones outstretched on either side of the wide red carpet, the word DUNKIRK in large white letters closest to the entrance to the theater. Harry’s hand gripped her as she stood, thankful for his body to help her keep balanced.

“Just smile as best you can,” he whispered in her ear as the car pulled away behind them. “And if your eyes start hurting from the flashes, just look at me, okay?”

Y/N nodded, and with his hand in hers, fingers entertained, they made their way down the carpet. He stopped a few times to take photos with fans and sign cards, but all that time he never strayed too far from Y/N’s side. With his arm securely wrapped around her waist, they stood for photos, Y/N trying to stand up as straight as she could and smile sweetly. Harry was a pro at this, a smile practiced for years, but she didn’t have the same experience. She was just a regular person who didn’t know which side was her bad side and had her eyes closed in half her photos.

The cameramen screamed questions at them, about their relationship, if they were married. They’d never quite publicly announced their relationship, Harry preferring to keep his private life private, so this was the first time they’d ever even publicly been out as a couple. And for it to be like this…Y/N hated it. She wanted to stand there and be utterly infatuated with Harry like she usually was, but this time her spine was rimrod straight, trying to keep her emotions in check. It was awkward, the way he tentatively touched her body, not wanting to overstep but also wanting to present the aura of normalcy.

Then they took a few steps and rotated to another set of cameras and Y/N understood what Harry had meant about her eyes hurting from the flashes. She turned her head to him and he found her eyes, giving her a wide smile meant just for her. Without thinking about it, her hand pressed to his suit right over his heart, the soft material of his suit jacket butter under her fingers. Then, he leaned in and pressed a kiss to her cheek, softly and sweetly and to most it wouldn’t have meant much. But to Y/N, it was the first time he had kissed her since she’d seen him. And the feeling of his lips on her skin lingered, a tingle moving through her body. Her hand gripped his back a little tighter and he just kept smiling at her, utterly entranced by her eyes.

Their bodies had betrayed them. To anyone who looked, they would have seen perfectly fine, not that they had been fighting only two hours ago. But they knew the reality, and this moment, their bodies close together and emotions running through them without being able to stop it, it made it clear that neither of them wanted to break up. They would just have to find a way to move through it.

TAGLIST

@smokeinherperfume @afire-hes @harryinsweatersandbandanas @marinalima3 @havethetimeofyourstyles @ursogoldenshan @inmygardensuit @marinalima3 @amaridon @harrys-watermelons @dontgiveupthedayjob @cronias13 @apples2019 @laula843 @afterstylesmadeit  @kait-brin @harrys-watermelons @groovybaybee @clumsywithlove93 @1142590m @erin0717 @ketchuplukehemmo​ 

Would you like to know when I update The Only Exception? Let me know here!

NEXT CHAPTER COMING JULY 11TH @ NOON CST

[jaskiers-sweetkiss]

Sunset Swerve - Part 5

Pairing: Luke x OC

Word Count: 4.9k

Warnings: swearing, partial nudity (the mooning scene in episode 4)

A/N: With this chapter we are all the way through with episode 4 and partially into episode 5! This is a longer one again but I really wanted to end this chapter where I did so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Also, on an entirely unrelated note: Happy Ace/Aro Awareness Week! As always, please let me know what you think and send me a message if you’d like to be added to the taglist!

Part 4  Masterlist

___

“I got the music mm mm mm,” Julie hummed, dancing slightly to the music pumping through her headphones as she made her way to her locker.

Jordan grinned, following behind her. She’d been bored that morning and she and Luke had gotten in another meaningless spat so she had decided to find Julie at school. She probably should’ve made her presence known earlier but Julie had been in such a zone that she didn’t want to interrupt; she really did have the music.

She didn’t say anything until Flynn arrived.

“It’s nice to see you back to your weirdo self,” the black girl said sincerely and Julie laughed.

“Thanks?” Julie laughed and Flynn grinned.

“How’s the band? Still hot? Still talented?” Flynn asked before leaning in closer and whispering, “Still dead?”

“Good, yes, yes, and rude!” Jordan answered, gasping dramatically at the last one and Julie jumped in surprise, whirling around to face the dark-haired ghost who was leaning against the neighboring locker.

“What are you doing here?” She hissed and Flynn’s eyes widened.

“Wait are they here?!” Flynn gasped, sounding slightly embarrassed by her previous statement.

“Ohh, right, it looks like you’re talking to no one, sorry.” Jordan apologized, moving to stand between Julie and Flynn, forming a sort of half-circle around the open locker.

“It’s just Jordan,” Julie explained to her friend and she nodded.

“Hey Jordan!” She waved at the now empty space that the ghost had been in and Julie and Jordan laughed.

“She’s over here,” Julie explained, pointing to what appeared to be empty air between them. “Anyway, the band are amazing. Luke, Jordan, and I spent the whole weekend writing songs.”

“Hell yeah we did!” Jordan cheered.

“Do you wanna hear them?” Julie asked, laughing at her ghostly friend.

“Duh!” Flynn gasped excitedly and the girls exchanged grins.

Jordan followed them through the halls to the band room, trying to get used to the layout of the school. When they arrived the room was empty and Julie made a beeline for the piano bench, Flynn leaning on the opposite side. Jordan opted to sit on the piano, something she hadn’t been allowed to do when alive because of the fragility of the instrument, however, as a ghost she was made of air and therefore weighed nothing.

“Ooh, please play Great!” Jordan begged, settling herself in a cross-legged position as Julie lifted the piano cover.

Julie laughed but complied, “Okay, so here’s a bit of the chorus of the first song we wrote,” She told Flynn before beginning the piano part.

“Cause we’re standing on the edge of great,” she belted and Jordan jumped in with some back-up vocals.

“On the edge of great” Flynn jumped in surprise when Jordan materialized on the piano in front of her. Jordan grinned and sent a wink to the girl before continuing to belt alongside Julie.

“Great,”

“On the edge of great,”

“Great,”

“On the edge of great,”

“Cause we’re standing on the edge of great,” they harmonized the last line together.

“Wow! I like it!” Flynn complimented and Jordan beamed. “Definite Gaga vibes.”

“Thanks!” Julie smiled and Jordan frowned, confused.

She leaned back on the piano to whisper to Julie, “What’s ‘Gaga’?”

Julie laughed. “She’s a famous singer.”

“You don’t know who Gaga is?” Flynn gasped and Jordan shrugged.

“I died in ’95, dude.”

“We’ll educate you.” She stated and Julie laughed but nodded.

“I think we have an anthem with this next one, it was something my mom and I were working on.”  Flynn gave her a sympathetic smile. “Luke and I finished it. Check it out.”

“And it’s one, two, three, four times that I tried for one more night, light a fire in my eyes,” Julie sang and Jordan came in on the harmonies in the last line, “I’m going out of my mind.”

“That’s… That’s beautiful,” Flynn said sincerely and Jordan nodded in agreement before vanishing once more as the performance was over. “And my girl’s got a crush and his name is Luke.”

Jordan just about did a spit take without any water at the revelation.

“What! No!” Julie protested, staring eyes-wide at Jordan as if trying to convince her. “Luke’s a ghost.”

“A cute ghost.” Jordan snapped her fingers and pointed at Flynn for the point.

“With a perfect smile,” Julie admitted and Jordan snorted.

“Ha! I knew it!” Flynn cheered. “Just remember he’s made of air.”

“Cute air,” Julie shrugged.

“Just… don’t get hurt,” Flynn warned and Jordan’s heart warmed at the girls’ friendship.

Julie nodded to reassure her before turning to Jordan, with a look of concern. “Is that okay?”

“What? That you have a crush on Luke?” Jordan repeated, brow furrowed and eyes narrowed in confusion. “Just because I hate him doesn’t mean everyone has too!”

“I’m serious Jordan,” Julie insisted and Jordan frowned, “There’s a thin line between love and hate.”

“And it is a line I am careful not to cross it.” Jordan was firm and Julie shrugged, dropping it.

She shook her head amusedly at the girl before turning back to Flynn and filling her in.

“Anyway, it’s obvious you guys have a connection,” Flynn spoke. “Everybody’s been wondering when you’re playing again.”

“Play again? We don’t even have anything planned. We’ve just been focused on writing songs!” Julie protested but Flynn grinned conspiratorially.

“Luckily, your new market team has your back,” she smirked and Jordan’s jaw dropped as she connected the dots.

“Flynn, you didn’t!” She gasped, however, Julie was still confused.

“We don’t have a marketing team.”

“You do now,” Flynn grinned, pulling a flyer out of her backpack and handing it across the piano to Julie.

Jordan scooted over the top of the piano to get a look at the flyer, having to lean over and read it upside down.

“Julie and her Hologram Band?” Julie read aloud and Jordan grinned.

“Cute,” she muttered.

“You’re playing the school dance tonight!”

“Our first real gig! Flynn you’re a goddess!” Jordan squealed, jumping up to go squeeze the girl, her excitement waning only slightly when her arms just went right through the living girl. “I gotta go tell the guys!”

___

“We have our first gig!” She shouted when she materialized in the garage.

“We have a gig?” Reggie gasped, jumping up from his chair excitedly.

“Yes!!” Jordan yelled and before she knew it they were both yelling, holding hands, and jumping up and down in the middle of the garage.

“What the hell are you guys doing?” Luke asked tiredly, interrupting them as he stepped through the garage door.

“We have a gig!” Reggie told him, the pair having stopped jumping to face the other ghost.

“We have a gig?” Luke’s jaw dropped.

“Yes!!” Jordan and Reggie answered in unison, the two ghosts nearly buzzing in excitement.

“We have a gig!” He shouted, finally getting on their level of excitement, and Reggie and Jordan echoed his words in their own shouts.

All of a sudden the three were bouncing around and screaming again, Jordan having jumped up onto the coffee table to scream the news to the sky.

“We need to practice!” She gasped, and the shouting stopped. Reggie pointed at her to affirm her statement and nodded.

“Let’s get to it. There are some Sunset Curve songs we can play,” Luke said, sliding on his guitar and immediately getting to business.

“I can pick up the missing rhythm guitar part,” Jordan offered, and Luke tossed her his music journal.

“First earmarked page,” he instructed and she nodded, flipping it open and looking it over.

___

“A school dance!” Luke repeated in shock before turning to Jordan, “You didn’t tell us it was a school dance.”

“Oh get off your high horse, Mr. We Play Bookclubs,” Jordan rolled her eyes and Julie nodded.

“Jordan’s right,” Julie agreed and the ghost in question smirked triumphantly. “This’ll be a good opportunity to build a following.”

“Yeah, we need to play whenever we can, wherever we can,” Reggie added.

“You guys are right,” Luke nodded. “Let’s rock those kids’ faces off, then play the clubs.”

“And then record a single that gets a billion streams,” Julie continued.

“I don’t know what that means but hopefully it gets us a manager and a tour.”

“And then we release a bunch of hit albums.”

“Put out a country album that does surprisingly well,” Reggie chimed in and the others turned to look at him funny. “What? I shred on the banjo.”

“Ooh! I play the fiddle!” Jordan gasped excitedly and Reggie grinned at her.

“And before you know it, we’re being inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame!” Luke brushed past, sending them a judgmental look.

“Ooh! But one of us isn’t there,” Reggie said, “Because we had a blowout in 2032! My money’s on Jordan, just cause… y’know.” He shrugged awkwardly.

“Nah, that’s valid,” Jordan brushed him off with a shrug of her own.

“So what’re we waiting for?” Luke asked, filling the silence that had fallen upon them after Reggie’s comment. “Let’s get to work!”

“Uh, where’s Alex?” Julie asked, pointing out the blond ghost’s absence.

“Oh, he’s with his ghost friend,” Reggie answered and Jordan wiggled her eyebrows suggestively.

“Alright, well, I guess we can get started without him?” Julie said, unsure but the ghosts all grabbed their instruments.

The three ghosts gathered around Julie’s keyboard, Luke counting them off into the first song. Even without their drummer, it was a productive practice, Stand Tall and Great were really starting to shape up. They’d been running through the former when Alex walked through the door.

“Hey Alex!” Jordan greeted and Reggie waved.

“Where you been man?” Luke asked, skipping the greeting altogether. “We need to start practicing!”

“For what?”

As if she had heard Alex’s question, though they all knew that was impossible, Flynn walked in.

“Dance news!” She exclaimed, “I don’t have a date. But, I don’t care because I’m so psyched to see you perform!”

“Aw, we’re playing a school dance?” Alex whined.

“What do you guys have against school dances?” Jordan asked, equal parts exasperated and curious. “Is it cause you’re all dropouts or…?”

Luke glared at her before explaining to Alex, “Dances are how we get a following nowadays.”

“Yeah, c’mon Alex, get with the program,” Julie teased and Flynn lit up.

“The guys are here?” Flynn asked, eyes wide.

“And Jordan!” Reggie added, pouting on her behalf.

“It’s 2020, ‘guys’ is a non-gendered term now,” Jordan informed and Reggie nodded, his mouth going to an ‘O’ shape and Alex nodded affirmatively.

“Aw, Jordan, you’re one of the guys now,” Luke said sarcastically, insincerity dripping from his tone, and Jordan stuck her tongue out at him. “Anyway, now that Alex has graced us with his presence, can we start working?”

Apparently, they couldn’t start working. In addition to the previous distractions, Julie’s little brother walked in to make an attempt on their lives. The boy threw salt around the room, claiming it burnt the souls of ghosts. Luckily he was a hack or they might’ve lost Alex. With Flynn gone to distract Carlos in the house, Jordan thought they might actually get to rehearse for their first official gig.

“Alright, let’s get back to it,” Julie said and Jordan nodded, moving back to her spot in the setup but Luke stalled them again.

“Yeah but remind me later, we have some Sunset Curve songs we want to show you.”

“Ooh, show me now!” Julie insisted and Luke grinned at the attention and interest.

Oh, that crush is gonna go right to his head, Jordan thought to herself with a sigh.

“‘Home is Where My Horse Is,’” Luke read as he pulled a piece of music out of his song notebook, “Reggie, I told you to stop putting your country songs in my journal.”

“Hey, that was a gift!” Reggie protested.

“Yes, it was,” Jordan affirmed, snatching the song out of Luke’s hand and examining it herself, “Ooh, we are gonna work on this, buddy.”

Reggie brightened and Luke rolled his eyes, handing the journal to Julie with instructions to check out the dog eared pages.

“Who’s Emily?” She asked as she flipped through the pages.

The ghost band froze while Luke lunged for the notebook. “That one’s not dog-eared!”

“‘If you could only know, I’d never let you go,’” she read teasingly completely misreading the song and the situation, “I didn’t know you were such a romantic, Luke.”

“He’s not,” Alex piped up, and Jordan felt simultaneously more and less stiff. “That one’s about-“

“No one.” Luke cut him off harshly and the whole subject was dropped immediately but the thick tension still remained. “If you go to the next page, I got a tune with a killer beat.”

He stepped away from the keyboard and picked his guitar back up and started playing the main riff.

“So you wanna sample.” Julie shrugged.

“Sample?” Luke asked, and the group gathered around the keyboard again.

“Yeah, sample someone else’s music,” Julie explained. “My mom and I used to sing that song at the top of our lungs in the car, it’s a classic Trevor Wilson song.”

“Uh, no,” Luke said. “It’s a classic our song.”

“Nuh-uh, I don’t mix up songs,” Julie insisted, pulling up her laptop. “I used to be best friends with his daughter, I know his music. Here, look, his first album had a bunch of hits but his more recent stuff isn’t as good.”

Julie turned her computer around and the ghosts froze, all of them recognizing the photo covering half the screen.

“Isn’t that…” Jordan whispered and the guys nodded.

“That’s Bobby,” Luke confirmed and Julie huffed.

“I just told you his name is Trevor Wilson.”

“Yeah, that’s great, then he changed it, okay?” Alex said, bouncing on the balls of his feet lightly as his anxiety kicked up. “Cause that’s Bobby, he was our rhythm guitarist.”

“Trevor Wilson was in your band?” Julie said skeptically but she was ignored by the guys who were still obsessing over their old bandmate.

“He looks like a substitute teacher,” Alex spat and Jordan couldn’t help the laugh she let out.

The guys all turned to glare at her for making light of this situation and she apologized quickly, looking down at her shoes.

“What’re his hits?” Luke finally asked quietly and Julie began to list them off, each one a Sunset Curve song.

Luke made his way to the back of the garage, throwing darts aggressively at the dartboard hanging on the wall. Jordan looked between the boys nervously as they coped with this news.

“Wait, this is… this is freaking me out,” Julie spoke, having a crisis of her own. “Trevor’s songs are kinda big to me. He introduced me to rock.”

“Yeah, Luke introduced you to rock,” Jordan sighed.

“Back when Carrie and I were friends, the three of us used to talk about music all the time,” Julie spoke, readdressing the guys, “He never mentioned you guys.”

“And that’s unbelievable!” Luke protested and everyone nodded. “I mean, he takes all the credit and he doesn’t even mention us?”

“Well, he was always kind of a self-righteous asshole,” Jordan pointed out.

“He’s rich too,” Julie informed them sadly, pulling up another set of pictures on her laptop. “He even has a helicopter with his face on it.”

The ghosts all gravitated back to the computer perched on the keyboard to see the photo. It was really an outrageous use of money, Jordan thought, to put your face on a helicopter. It was disgusting, it didn’t even look good.

“Where does he live?” Luke asked, bouncing slightly due to the magnitude of his anger.

“Above the beach in Malibu,” Julie shared defeatedly and the three boys shared a look before vanishing.

“Can you look up any of my songs?” Jordan asked quietly, wondering what had happened to her own legacy.

The ghost rattled them off, none of them showing up in the search and she breathed out a sigh of relief, though she also was a little upset. She was grateful that none of her previous bandmates had betrayed her posthumously like Bobby had, but she could help but be sad that Apollo 81 didn’t go on to fame without her. Instead, it appeared that the band broke up completely after her death.

“Alright, well, at least there’s that,” she muttered softly before poofing out herself.

____

“Moss, why are you here?” Luke spat when she appeared and she rolled her eyes.

“I’ve grown soft in death,” she sighed dramatically, leaning against the glass banister. “You all seem to have forgotten that I didn’t just hate your band out of principle. That asshole,” she jerked her thumb towards the top of the stairs where ‘Trevor’ had just disappeared, “Was always a condescending dick to me. And besides, I thought bandmates had each other’s backs, right?”

Luke narrowed his eyes but Alex and Reggie mustered up genuine smiles for the girl.

“Right,” Luke needed, “Welcome aboard, Moss. Now let’s go haunt his stealing ass.”

Jordan and Reggie whooped as they followed Luke up the stairs.

“Wait!” Alex called and they all stopped to peer at him, “It’s just my first time haunting someone, I wanna make it special.”

They all gave him various looks of shock and disbelief, each clearly portraying how weird of a statement that was.

“Yeah, I hear it,” Alex sighed, answering their unspoken questions. “Okay…”

They found Bobby in probably one of the most rich-white-guy rooms Jordan had ever seen. He was meditating, just like he had told Carrie he would be but the practice and the room reeked of Hollywood’s insincere obsession with Eastern cultures. This was going to be way too much fun, Jordan thought before the ‘haunting” began. They caused all kinds of chaos: blowing out candles, starting the CD player and the shower, and topping it all off with Reggie writing “Hello Bobby” in the fog on the bathroom mirror and Alex trapping him in the room. They followed the grown man as he ran down the stairs and into his helicopter.

“Quick! Let’s moon him before he gets away!” Reggie suggested as the watched the chopper take off from the pool deck.

Jordan rolled her eyes while Luke grinned, both boys already reaching for their belt buckles.

“He can’t see us,” Alex protested and Luke laughed.

“Oh, it’s not for him bro,” he explained and Alex shrugged. “C’mon Moss, drop trou.”

“Oh, absolutely not.” She said, crossing her arms.

“What happened to bandmates having each other’s backs?” He dared, throwing her words back at her.

She narrowed her eyes but reached for the button of her pants, never one to back down from a challenge, especially not one from Luke Patterson. They all laughed as they wiggled their bare asses at the helicopter but the moment ended quickly as Julie stalked outside towards them.  

“So, did you guys have fun in there?” Julie asked rhetorically, crossing her arms angrily as the ghosts pulled their pants back into place.

“Okay, you would’ve done the exact same thing if he stole all your songs,” Luke protested, matching her outrage.

“But you have new songs, with me, and with Jordan,” Julie argued. “The best way to get back at him is for this band to do great. And for this band to do great we need to play dances, then clubs,”

“And then tours, I know,” Luke finished apologetically.

“I’ll see you guys at the school,” Julie sighed, “We go on at nine. Please don’t be late, there’s gonna be a lot of people there.”

“We got it, alright? Don’t worry,” Alex reassured and Julie nodded, heading back inside the house.

“I don’t care what Julie says, I’m glad we scared Bobby,” Reggie spoke up after a moment. “In fact, I wish we had done more. Maybe written ‘thief’ across his forehead!”

“And Alex, how did you shut the door?” Luke asked, amazed. “Yesterday you could barely open the garage door!”

“Learned that from your new friend Willie, didn’t you?” Reggie theorized and he and Jordan shared a knowing look.

“Yeah, he taught me some things and we screamed in a museum,” Alex shared gleefully, though a little shy, and Jordan awed at how cute it was. “…Long story,” he covered, not wanting to explain it.

“You think he has any other tricks up his sleeve?” Luke asked.

“Only one way to find out,” he shrugged.

When they reappeared they were in a park by the beach, not far from where two skateboarders were being ticketed.

“Hey, what’s up man!” Willie called as he boarded over, “You brought friends.”

“Yeah, these are my bandmates, Luke, Reggie, and Jordan,” Alex introduced and Willie alternated between bumping fists and forearms with the other ghosts.

“Cool, I’m Wille,” The long-haired ghost introduced himself, “So, did you guys come to learn some tricks?”

With a small flick of his wrist Willie set off the sirens on the cop vehicles, and the skaters scattered as the officers panicked. Just as easy as he turned them on, Willie turned them back off and they watched as the cops huffed, realizing the skaters were long gone.

“Do it again! Do it again!” Reggie cheered, slapping Jordan’s arm excitedly.

“Actually, we were thinking something a little bigger,” Luke said, sliding slightly in front of Reggie. “An old bandmate stole our songs and we wanna confront him.”

“Ah. Is this old bandmate of yours a lifer?” Willie asked and the other ghosts gave him a confused look at the terminology.

“Oh! ‘Lifer’ is fancy ghost slang for the living,” Alex chimed in and realization dawned on his bandmates’ faces and Reggie let out a quiet ‘ohhh.’

“Then yeah, he’s a lifer,” Reggie said, adding extra emphasis to the new term.

Willie’s face fell at the information.

“I’m sorry guys, even I don’t have the ability to make ghosts visible.”

The guys’ faces fell and Luke shoved his hands in his pockets, turning away from the group.

Jordan sighed defeatedly, “So much for that.”

“There is a ghost who might be able to help,” Wille finally said, obviously uncomfortable with their sadness. “I’ll take you to him. Meet me where Alex and I met at eight o’clock.”

The guys all nodded and Jordan smiled thankfully. Though she didn’t have an uncontrollable need to get revenge on Bobby, she couldn’t handle the guys’ moping over it.  

Willie poofed away not long after and the rest of the ghosts returned to the garage.

“We’ll only have an hour,” Jordan warned as they got ready for the night. “Remember, Julie said we go on at nine.”

She was currently sitting on the floor in front of the couch braiding her hair into a half-up style while the guys lounged around the garage, already changed into their outfits for the performance.

“It shouldn’t be a problem,” Luke said, leaning over to grab the eyeliner she had left on the coffee table. “If we even make it on time.”

She had managed to find some of her own belongings in the loft including some makeup, however, it had long since expired so Julie lent her some of her own. They figured it would be safe to share the products as it’s hard to get diseases from someone made of air and vice versa.

Jordan rolled her eyes at the comment, tying a small elastic around the second braid. “There. Finished and it’s only seven-thirty.”

“It only took you an hour,” Luke scoffed and Jordan rolled her eyes.

The hour had been spent picking out an outfit (she had opted to stick with her usual look of a cropped shirt, mom jeans, converse, and a flannel tied around her waist), borrowing makeup from Julie, applying said makeup, and then doing her hair. It was an hour reasonably spent, she thought, especially with the constant distractions from the ghost boys.

“I haven’t done makeup in twenty-five years,” Jordan shot back, “Excuse me if I’m a little rusty.”

She was. It had taken her several attempts to get the winged eyeliner down when she used to be able to get them reasonably symmetrical in one go while alive. She’d nearly thrown the pen across the room in her frustrations but remembered it was Julie’s so she couldn’t lose it.

“Whatever,” Luke said, sitting up from his position lounging across the couch and swinging his legs over to rest next to where Jordan was sitting. “So what’re we doing for the next half hour?”

Jordan made a show of picking up her book, waving it at the boy slightly to answer his question before opening it to pick up where she’d last left off. Luke groaned, reaching over to grab the book from her hands.

“Nuh-uh. Not cool, Patterson. Give it back.” Jordan scolded, reaching out for the book.

“Why can’t you do something more interesting,” While Luke was busy whining Jordan grabbed her book back from his hands.  

“Reading is interesting, though I know you wouldn’t know since you can’t read.”

“I can read!”

“Oh, my bad,” She feigned an apology, “I’ve just never seen you do it.”

“I read music all the time!”

Jordan just blinked at him for a moment.

“Yes, obviously, Luke.” She rolled her eyes. “I’m aware that you can read. Now can you let me read, please?”

Luke grumbled something under his breath that Jordan couldn’t be bothered to try to decipher before falling silent. Jordan smirked slightly at her victory and began reading but after a few minutes, she felt the couch shift behind her and could suddenly feel the ghost boy breathing on her neck.

“Do you mind?” She asked, turning to glare at him but nearly smashing their heads together, not realizing how close he was.

“Nope,” he said cheekily, popping the ‘p’ sound and continuing to read over her shoulder, “Who’s Annabeth?”

“Oh for Christ’s sake,” Jordan muttered exasperatedly.

“She seems kind of stuck-up.”

“Patterson I swear if you don’t give me some space I will find a way to kill you again and it will be painful.”

“I’m just trying to read your book,” he pouted. “It seems interesting.”

“You can have it when I’m done,” she compromised. “You’re missing the whole beginning anyway.”

This seemed to be a good enough answer for the boy as he nodded before poofing to where Reggie and Alex were hanging out in the back of the garage. They stayed like that for the last half hour, no major spats between Luke and Jordan which was quite impressive given their track record, and Jordan was able to get through a couple chapters of her book. With the ability to get lost in her book, it felt like hardly any time had passed before they were all gathering around Alex to go meet Willie.

They didn’t stay on the Walk of Fame for long, Willie almost immediately teleporting them to the interior of one of the classiest looking buildings Jordan had ever seen. Multiple chandeliers hung from the ballroom ceiling and it seemed like nearly everything was lined with gold.

“I gotta go make sure everything’s cool, but I’ll be right back,” Willie said, heading down one of the hallways and leaving the four ghosts to look around.

“The Hollywood Ghost Club,” Jordan read a nearby plaque out loud.

“This place is creepy,” Reggie said, scrunching up his nose.

“Well, so are we,” Alex chimed in and they all leaned over the balcony railing, overlooking the ballroom.

It was packed with well-dressed people, all of them older than the teenage ghosts. Jordan looked down at her own outfit, fiddling with the sleeve of her green flannel.

“I think we’re a little overdressed,” Luke smirked, nudging Jordan with his elbow and she rolled her eyes but she felt comforted by his words.

Just then Willie reappeared, leading them down the grand staircase and into the ballroom with a dramatic flourish of his hand.

“Just so you know, we only have until nine. We’ve got a gig with Julie,” Alex explained and Willie nodded.

“No worries,” he reassured.

Willie was just explaining how the people in attendance were all lifers who had paid a lot for a glimpse at the afterlife when a sharply dressed man approached, offering to walk them to their table. They had front row seats for the stage and Jordan could tell they were all excited to see whatever performance would be occurring. Jordan also noticed the large clock hanging over the stage that read 8:30.

“Hey guys, I’m gonna head to the school to help Julie set up,” Jordan said, patting the back of the chair that was meant for her as the rest of the group sat down.

“You haven’t even seen the show,” Willie protested and Jordan smiled apologetically.

“What about confronting Bobby?” Luke asked, face hardened at the thought of the traitorous former bandmate.

“You guys can teach me everything you learn, right?” She said, smiling reassuringly at the boys. “Besides, I don’t want Julie sitting alone before our first gig, she’s probably super nervous.”

The boys nodded thoughtfully at that.

“Right. Don’t forget, we go on at nine.” Jordan said before poofing out.

She reappeared at the school. Julie was sitting backstage with a piece of equipment Jordan didn’t recognize.

“Jordan! You’re here!” Julie exclaimed and the ghost girl grinned. “Where are the guys?”

“I wanted to get here a little early, figured you could use the company,” she answered, trying to reassure the clearly nervous girl.

“They’ll be here though, they’re just wrapping something up with Alex’s ghost friend.”

Part 6

___

Taglist: @oopsiedoopsie23 @meangirlsx @angryknightstatesmantrash @onlygetaway @deni-gonzalez @advicefromnixxxx 

[kakakakashi]

I just started BNHA today... I’m on episode 3 and little Izuku is my whole fucking world 🥺🥺🥺 why was he such a precious little child?!?! I just ugh... the no quirk thing and he was so... so sad like you don’t need a quirk little bb you are perfect and that little face could cause world peace 😭 my fucking heart. Makes me think of little Gaara and I am SO SOFT. I’m sorry 🥺 I just had to get it off my chest.

I KNOW, RIGHT??? You should see my snapchat. I scream about how he’s baby very 5 seconds. I just wanna smoosh his cheeks, give him big hugs, and kiss all of his freckles! He’s a lil baby bean cinnamon roll angel cake honey bun pumpkin pie! I can’t decide if I have a crush on him or if I just can’t process how cute he is. Lbr, it’s both.

I KNOW, RIGHT! I was like “Izuku, Deku, honey... you can be a hero. Why isn’t there a Batman or Iron Man in this universe??? Fuck it. Izuku, baby. You’re gonna be the first quirkless hero. I know exactly how. I’m an expert. K, let’s get to work.” *Whips out all of the Marvel material I own and know of, ready to help the lil baby bunny achieve his dream* 

I just... I love Izuku so much... He is just... my fuckin heart! When he does the heart squeeze face, I’m like “BITCH! THAT’S HOW I FEEL ABOUT YOU 25/8!” 

Also, just wait until he goes from skinny to buff. I’m like “Look, you little stinker. Just because you could bench press 200 times my weight doesn’t mean I’m not gonna treat you and protect you like the lil baby bunny you are because your face still looks like it’s 5, and YOU ARE TOO PRECIOUS!” He’s just too good for this world, too pure. Please, someone make him stop hurting himself! I just... I love Deku so much. 

Although... Todoroki is my fave... Although, that’s only because he is literally me in high school in almost every way & I just... yeah. Anyway. Izuku is baby, and I love him so much. *SCREECHES* 

JUST LOOK AT THAT FACE!!! HE IS TOO SWEET!!! HE’S PRETTIER THAN I WILL EVER BE!!! MY HEART CAN’T TAKE IT!!! I FEEL LIKE INKO WATCHING THE SPORTS FESTIVAL & BAWLING!!! Speaking of which, can I just be friends with Inko & look through all of Izuku’s baby albums with her & just cry about how wonderful her son is??? 

[honey-subs]

UMM bro omg the new agustd mv is just DJJDJDH HOLY- and i was thinking if you could yknow write something abt like how y/n been thinking abt him being all tied up and stuff in bed after she saw the making of the mv 😳😳 idk if im making sense anymore yoongi is justt a sexy bitcj

Agust D - Min Yoongi (2)

was already writing for the agust d comeback, so this is part two! also, ajshdhjd yes! the entire mv was amazing, and there’s no skips in the album i-

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

⤷pairing - yoongi x reader

⤷genre - smut

⤷summary - yoongi seems to really love rope.

⤷warnings - sub!yoongi, dom!reader, bondage, smut, fluff, praise, crying, denial, multiple orgasms, degradation, oral (f!receiving), hand jobs, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, just really kinky.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

(Continued. . .)

you pushed yoongi down onto the bed once the both of you made it to your room. you attached your lips to his in a kiss of fire, all the lent up emotions the both of you have held back for weeks being released. you pulled away slowly, and his lips struggle to find yours afterwards. cute.

you began to strip yourself of clothing, taking off first your leather jacket, then your shirt, and jeans. yoongi eyes you from his spot on the bed, mouth watering just looking at your form and the way you moved. moving to your dresser, you pull out something you’ve been waiting to use since you got word that he’d be making his mv.

once you turn around, his eyes move to the rope in your hand and he bites his lip. “since you seem to like rope so much,” you pause. “strip.” you tell him, voice low as you near him. he quickly does what your tell him, removing his shirt, then going down to his joggers, pushing them down and off. you can see the dark material of his boxers, and just how hard he is for again. a patch on his boxers was wet with precum as his cock strained against the material.

finally, he pulled down his boxers, revealing his cock. “good boy.” you told him, kneeling on the bed beside him. he smiles at the praise, relaxing and getting further into subspace. softly, you push him by his chest down onto the bed, allowing him to get comfortable before you continued.

you push up his arms up so they rest on his chest, and you tied some of the rope around his wrists and around his arms, securing the, comfortably. you move down farther, spreading his legs and tying them to the foot of the bed. you admire the work of knots and ties around him. “you look so pretty like this, yoongi.” you tell him with a dreamy sigh. his cheeks and chest flush with pretty pinks at your words.

you lean towards him slowly, lips attaching once again. this time, your hands slyly trialed down to his erection. he gasped snd moaned into your mouth when you suddenly gripped him, moving your hand skillfully up and down the shaft of his cock, giving the tip special attention. you moved down to his neck, sucking a hickey into the once porcelain, clean skin there. as your hand continued to move, hid moans got louder, and the hickies that litter his chest and neck increase in numbers.

you snuck a peak up at him, he was already in subspace, eyes glossy as smuall whimlers and moans leave his lips. “p-please, mistress.” he says, words slurred as he’s overwhelmed with pleasure. “what do you want me to do, yoon?” you asked in a teasing whisper. “m-more,” he manages to say. hips subtly bucking into your fist. “you want more?” you asked, voice sweet and kind. your other hand comes up to his hair, running soothing fingers through it. “p-please, mistress, m-more.” he says again, hips bucking wildly.

your palm is flat against his scalp, when you suddenly make a fist, pulling his hair up. he sucks in a sharp inhale a breath at the feeling, and you slow down your hand tremendously. “just like a slut to ask for more. is what i’m giving you not enough?” you asked, tugging his hair. “answer me, whore.” you tell him, gripping his cock in your hand. “y-yes miss! it was perfect, i-i’m sorry.” he pleads, hands balled up on his chest tightly. tears well up in his eyes as you continued to be still, tugging his hair and having an unmoving hand on his swollen cock.

you moved your hand away from his cock, and let go of his hair. “absolutely pathetic.” the tears spill over. “i expected more from a tough-talking rapper like you.” you tease. “y-yes mistress, i’m pathetic.” he says, words jumbled and slurred as tears of frustration and denied arousal stream down his face. you leaned forward and toyed with one of the hickies on his chest. “please make me cum, miss.” he begged. “my pathetic cock can’t take it, i need to cum, please mistress!” he’s louder this time, really wanting your hands, your mouth, something around him to make him cum.

“do you think you deserve it?” you asked, hand moving down from his chest to his lower stomach, right above where he needs you most. “n-no, miss. i-i’m just your pathetic little toy to use, b-but i can make you feel good too!” he proposes desperately. this peaks your interest and you stop your movements. “i-i want you to sit on my face.” he says, muscles flexing under the restricting rope. “hm okay. if you can make me cum, i’ll see if i can make you cum as well.” you tell him, already moving to straddle his waist.

you move up so you’re hovering over his face teasingly. “p-please.” he whimpers, desperately wanting to please you. you decide he’s begged enough, and lower yourself down. instantly, his lips and tongue are going at it, taking your clit into his mouth and sucking in the sensitive bud quickly, tongue swirling against your folds, occasionally dipping into your entrance. the sounds that were coming out of your mouth were absolutely sinful; head tipped back as you allowed him to work his magic.

you were so sensitive and aroused, that it didn’t take long for his tongue to bring you to the edge. your hands found his hair as you tugged in it everytime he sped up. his moans sent vibrations throughout your core as he continued. a familiar feeling bubbled in your lower stomach, and one more graze of his teeth against your clit was tipping you over the edge. “fuck!” you exclaimed as your thighs shook as they encased his head. yoongi made sure to lap at all your cum eagerly. he continued to lick through your orgasm when you pulled away from oversensitivity.

“ready to cum, yoongi?” you asked, voice shaky. “please, mistress.” you hummed. “what do you want?” you asked, hands roaming his lower stomach, again, just above where he needed you most. “y-you, please.” he said. you knew exactly what he meant. smirking, you straddled him again, making sure to have his erection press against your ass.

very slowly and teasingly, you lift up and hover over him, causing him to bite his lip as he looked at you, with his tear stained cheeks gleaming in the light. you finally allowed him what he wanted. he couldn’t help the large moan that forced itself through his lips as you sunk down onto him, engulfing his cock in your warmth. you sit for a while, allowing him to fill you to the brim, occasionally swiveling your hips. you lean forward after a while, and fuck yourself back down on him. you bit your lip to hold in you moans, while yoongi was moaning unabashedly.

you gripped his waist as you did so, leaning down to capture his lips with yours. there wasn’t a fight for dominance as he allowed your tongue to explore his mouth. you pulled away, moving to kiss down his jaw. “mistress, please! i-i’m gonna cum.” he says, bucking his hips into you. “c-choke me.” he whispers desperately. you’re surprised, but you don’t let it show. you move a hand up to his neck, squeezing it slightly. his eyes rolled to the back of his head as he fell completely into subspace. only incoherent mumbles and thank you’s leaving his lips. “cum for me, yoongi.” you tell him, watching as his muscles convulse and tense before he truly lets go, choked moans leaving his lips. he cums, truly filling you up.

the sensation caused you to let go as well, shivering as you come to your release. you help him ride out his orgasm, and remove your hands. you move off of him, and his breathing is labored as he pants for breath.

quickly, you untie the ropes on his wrists and ankles. he moves his arms slowly, still hazy in his subspace. you quickly run some warm water for him. after the water is run, you quickly get yoongi to help him to the bathroom. you help him into the bath, and get in as well, making sure to be careful of bruises, marks and hickies as you bathe him. the bath was fairly quick, yoongi was still unresponsive as you helped him get dress and out of the tub.

you had him sit for a minute as you changed the sheets, and when you got into the bed, he latched onto you cutely. you run a few comforting fingers through his hair and rub a bruise on his hip. his eyes gradually get less and less glossy as he gets out of his subspace. “i love you,” he mumbled from his place in your arms. you smile upon hearing his voice. “i love you too, baby.”

“are you okay?” you asked, making sure he was fine before continuing with questions. “i’m fine.” he says, curling into you. “did i go to hard? was it enjoyable for you?” you asked, wanting know if you went too far with anything. “it was perfect and felt amazing. thank you.” he says, leaning up to kiss you. “wanna go to sleep or stay up for a bit?” you asked, ready to turn the tv on if he asked. “no, i’m tired, can we sleep?” he asked. “of course.” you tell him, turning of the lights and the lamp. “night, yoon.” you tell him, allowing him to curl into some more. “night.” he whispers sleepily.

WHOO! THIS IS FINALLY DONE!