#just ​random thoughts I had to let out somewhere. I WANT A DIMPLE IN MY LIFE…

[platypuslappy]

The concept of Ekurei is so good and honestly just radiates so much comfort. Because I wish I would have a partner who I trust so much that they could possess me so we would be together and in sync in one body and they give me little kisses on my hand or smth. That is such a nice thought to me. But we are still individual people with our own wants and needs….

….Also of course their dynamic is just very silly and fun, two lonely idiots who found each other <3

[clamenstell]

thinking about lovesick!gojo

- lovesick!gojo who fell in love with you when you held his hand in comfort when he was upset from being scolded by the higher ups about something reckless he did.

- lovesick!gojo who noticed the way you understood that he was still young and even the strongest made mistakes, which is okay as he's still learning.

- lovesick!gojo who started noticing little things about you, like how you pick your nails when nervous, how your eyes light up when talking about your interest, how you tap your pencil in thought when working in class and when you smile, little dimples appear on your cheeks.

- lovesick!gojo who gets butterflies in his stomach whenever you giggle at his terrible jokes while suguru and shoko both roll their eyes in annoyance.

- lovesick!gojo who jokes around even more in order to hear you laugh again, even when the others grow even more tired of him.

- lovesick!gojo who doesn't try to hide how much he wants to hang out with you, who makes up ridiculous excuses to spend time with you. "What do you mean Suguru is busy? Isn't he right there?" "HAHAHA! That's hilarious, let's go somewhere else..." as he drags your form in the opposite way.

- lovesick!gojo who falls even more when you indulge in his teasing. "Need some help?~" You roll your eyes. "I wouldn't want to bother the strongest one~ I'm sure you have better things to do." His grin widens. "It's ok, I don't mind sparing my time for you~"

- lovesick!gojo who tries to impress you everytime you're both assigned on the same mission, showing off at every chance he got and turning his head expectantly to you to see if you were watching him. "Did you see how I exorcised that curse?" "Yes, you did great Satoru.🙄" ":))))"

- lovesick!gojo who feels the pit of jealousy when he sees you conversing with a kyoto student, even more when he sees you laugh at something he said. You were suppose to laugh at his jokes, not a random nobody's.

- lovesick!gojo who appears right by your side in the middle of your conversation, sliding an arm around your waist, pouting and batting his eyelashes. "Baby, I thought we had something special :((( 🥺🥺🥺" "Satoru what the fuck."

- lovesick!gojo who grins in victory when the kyoto guy leaves in panic from seeing the affectionate display, but frowns when you scold him for disturbing your conversation. It doesn't matter, he still won and now your attention is on him instead :)

- lovesick!gojo who loves sharing sweets with you. Whenever he bought pastries from your favourite bakery he will always get extra to share with you. He especially loved seeing your face light up whenever he mentioned getting your favourite pastry.

- lovesick!gojo who gets surprised when you always return the favor, always sharing baked goods you bought, even getting the extra sweet ones just for him.

- lovesick!gojo who's ears turn red at the thought of you buying something just for him, no one else.

- lovesick!gojo who swears he will marry you one day, no matter the circumstance, not even the higher ups would stop him. All he need is to ask you out first, but seeing you chuckle as you two shared a chocolate cake, he thought staying by your side is good enough for now. After all, he's not getting cured from this sickness anytime soon.

he's so 🥺❤️😍🥺🤗😚❤️😳🥰❤️ to me

[wonryllis]

somewhere in northern italy | 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗄 𝗌𝗎𝗇𝗀𝗁𝗈𝗈𝗇.

synopsis. park sunghoon hates oranges, he always has. the tangy citrusy tingles he's so not fond of it. he also hates you, the living embodiment of an orange: cheery, full of life, and well, round. why should he be bothered by it though? all he has to do is work hard to get into his dream university. but the thing is, he really needs a specific recommendation letter for it. something which he can only get from your father. and hypothetically speaking, he can't just ask for it, so he does you 'a favor for a favor'; he fake dates you on your trip home for summer break and surprise surprise your family owns the biggest orange farm in the country.

or where, sunghoon falls for the one thing he has hated all his life.

word count. 1.6k (teaser) full fic: est 10k-15k? maybe more?

meet the cast. park sunghoon who has an obsession of taking photos with fem!reader who loves being photographed.

genre. fake dating AUUUU!!!! ANDDD enemies to lovers!!!(for hoon), frenemies to lovers(for you), fluff, crackkkk, nsfw, suggestive, sunghoon getting cockblocked all the damn time, set in lombardy, northern italy. popular x unpopular but it's mildly mentioned. sunghoon thinks you are a spoiled brat, a very very studious and upright sunghoon. oh and did you know? orange, orange and orange (sunghoons nightmare) rich girlie and old money reader, sunghoon is gobsmacked at reader's house, parents..(do i really need to add?) and the orange farm.

warnings. allusions as to reader being daddy's princess and being sheltered and hoon struggling every day with oranges and painting a good image of himself to get that letter. nsfw warnings will be added in the full fic. (also no it's not a chubby reader)

RELEASE DATE. TBD

written so far. 15%

author's note﹙ ⌕. ﹚ had this random ass idea while having orange juice yesterday ksjksj. taglist is open for this as well as the permanent one, just let me know and i'll add you asap! not sure if this' good enough kindly bear with me. PLS DONT LET THIS FLOP I REALLY LOVE THIS BABY ಥ⁠‿⁠ಥ

꒰⠀ N O W P L A Y I N G. ⠀꒱ cruel summer by taylor swift, one kiss by calvin harris & dua lipa, karma by taylor swift, me by taylor swift, call it what you want by taylor swift, blinding lights by the weekend, fireworks by katy perry

"you wanna go down to the lake?" sunghoon looks up to find you at the door, more like peeping in from outside. his hands stopping mid-air with his spongebob boxers in hand, in the middle of unpacking what was left of his luggage. he moves at the speed of light, shoving them back in before you can notice the print. but too late you already saw it well, "you wear spongebob?" your laugh tickles his insides and it feels weird how he seems to like it.

no, he did not want to go out right now. after that stressful breakfast in the garden he just wants to fall face first into your fluffy mattress and sleep it out under your silk comforter. but something about your laugh makes him intrigued, would going down to the lake with you show him more of this side of yours? now this would probably be the seventh time he has wondered of how prettily you laugh. the curve of your eyes and the faint dimples on your cheeks his favourite things. oh? he picked favourites already it's weird, he thinks.

"yeah, let's go. just lemme change my shirt real quick," disappearing into the bathroom before you have the chance to speak. though when he steps back into the room,"your taste is funny," his spongebob boxers hang at the tip of your index finger as you look closely at the design. "put that back!" he scolds, choking on his spit while he rushing over.

"why? don't tell me you haven't washed it? now that's really bad hoonie," the tone of your voice teases his nerves but honestly he's used to it, more precisely he doesn't hate it as much as he thought he did.

"y/n," he warns, albeit not seriously and you can see it.

"baby," in a sweet little smile, (one that has sunghoon's hate for you faltering in the slightest each time you put it on) you correct him,"remember?" my fake boyfriend, mouthing out through a sly grin.

it's like an immediate que for him to give it up, he's not gonna win against you. when he used to see you around the university, mingling amidst a crowd of people every single time, he always thought you'd hold nothing against him. in his eyes you were a hollow image, nothing worth it. perhaps he was wrong, for so far you have him tight in a grip, he can't seem to find something to properly hate. that is if he takes the oranges out the picture.

he sighs in resignation,"come on, let's go, baby." happy? his brows rising in a question, softening up at your smile getting wider with a swift nod.

he relaxed too soon.

"was this really necessary?" the palm of his hand slides around your wrist as you walk down the steps of your italian chateau. supporting your heel clad feet and gesturing at the big beige floppy beach hat sitting atop your head. "absolutely! it's my fa- dad!" sunghoon's head snaps at that, immediately turning to look at the pitch of your voice going higher. the real deal, your father still seated in the garden with a newspaper in his hands and dear lord, a glass of orange juice.

it's embarrassing to be seen with you like that, he was gonna say. but oh well, nevermind.

"i see you have your favorite hat on, going somewhere with sunghoon?" your dad asks smiling warmly at your pair. it makes sunghoon scared, aren't dads supposed to hate boyfriends? is he being bamboozled by your family? will he be preyed upon later when you are not there to see? as if it was possible, your entire family though really welcoming of him are a bunch of weirdos, who the fuck let's their precious daughter share her room with her boyfriend they've met for the first time?

when he agreed to fake date you he didn't know he'd have to put on such a detailed act. there's literally no restrictions for you in the house. you do whatever you want, when ever you want. and that includes taking him everywhere you go, because apparently your parents know him as the boyfriend who loves you so much that he can't let you be alone at any time. shouldn't that be a red flag though? he can't with this anymore, just over a day in and he's convinced he can't make it make sense anymore, it's a white towel, he can only go with the flow.

"yes he really wanted to go down to the lake," what me? when? sunghoon's eyes wander in a panic while you smile as if you weren't just lying through your teeth. smile sunghoon smile, just fucking smile, he reminds himself wondering if he should maybe say something, maybe not?,"didn't you, baby?" the little nudge of your elbow against him tells him that he should, oh god its difficult to learn when to do what.

"yeah the weather seems really good," he says, a slight tremor in his voice, internally facepalming himself. he has one job, and he's failing even that.

"hm, true," the acknowledgement from your father helps calm his nerves a bit but it runs on high again at his next words,"be back before lunch though, your brother and sister in law will be home soon. it's been so long since we last ate together," you have a brother? why wasn't he informed about this? is the universe playing a game with him? as if your parents weren't enough, now he has to impress more people. he can do this, for the sake of his recommendation letter he has to do it.

"yes dad! love you," sunghoon waits like a lone statue as you leave his side to press a kiss to your father's cheek. grabbing him by the arm and dragging him away the moment he opens his mouth to bid your father. at this rate you'll ruin it for him before he can ruin it himself. "slowdown, fluffy. i'll fall at this speed," he tries but it's to no avail, he should have known by now, no one can control you.

the walk down to the lake is quieter than he expected, no bickering or fighting. you show him around the small streets and shops on the way, telling him little stories back from your childhood. sometimes stopping at a spot,"so pretty, can you take a picture of me here?" and it's already the fourth time. he doesn't mind though, on the contrary he finds himself enjoying it. it's not everyday he gets to roam around the streets of italy with the perfect weather.

it doesn't take long for you both to reach the deck on the far left. following your lead, he sits down on the edge beside you, legs hanging low over the cold water and your shoes placed on one side. you sit close, arms brushing each other, little finger atop one another. your hair flowing with the wind swipes against his face when you turn the other way, a subtle hint of sweet (you guessed it) orange tingling his smell buds. instead of grimacing his life off, he leans closer for another whiff of it. "sunghoon!" retracting immediately when you turn back to him.

"hm?" a feeling so out of this world, a haze lost in his mind. your words sound blurry and your extravagant hat looks so pretty on you. he almost feels like he has to capture this. "i asked how you like it? weren't you listening? what're you thinking?" and he does, taking out his phone and clicking a candid. he can't believe he now has a photo of you in his gallery that he's taken on his own accord. he's been doing many weird things lately,"it's really pretty," so so many weird things.

"hey fluffy i've been wondering about something," he speaks again, looking away to try to ignore tiny little fluttering butterflies in his stomach.

"what is it?"

"haven't you ever dated before, why do your parents seem so excited to see you have a boyfriend?" there he asked it, the biggest mystery he can't stop thinking about from the moment he set foot in your palace of a house. if it's your first then maybe that would somewhat explain their behaviour, not that it would become normal altogether, just kind of justifiable that he won't be put on the rack. that he's truly welcomed and he's safe.

"not really, no one ever met my standards," your answer throws him off. what?

"does that mean i do?" he tests the water, cautious above all yet his tone still comes off as one of tease.

"yes, except one," he eyes turn to you at that, pupils dilated with curiosity for the one thing stopping him from the title of 'perfect for you' as your parents claimed. meeting his eyes in a lock of contact, you give him a small smile. hands moving over to his white button up, fingers tracing his collar and undone buttons watching his adam's apple bob in a hard gulp as his brown orbs follow your movements, sweat building up at the close proximity when you both lock eyes again,"you don't really like me," sunghoon immediately looks away, a stab of reality, he was actually anticipating something he could change. really park sunghoon? remember you don't like her?

"am i wrong?" you laugh leaning forward to have a look at his face.

"i never said that," sunghoon clears his throat, turning back, suddenly gaining a surge of confidence. park sunghoon what???

TAGLIST ( open. ) @s00buwu @luvyev @deobitifull @nottkwiwin @enhyven @crysieberry @eneiyri @sovlidago @fertiliezedtoesw @laylasmother @pockyyasii @ladyartemesia @kaispulshies @nctislifue @capri-cuntz @sweetjaemss @parksunghoonsgf @ariadores @asteria-wood @laurradoesloveu @en-dream @304files

[producedbyhanjisung]

⎯ STOCKHOLM. christopher bahng chan

🎧 : bang chan x female reader

TROPE. age gap! au (chan is 37, reader is 18), kidnapper x kidnapped

WORD COUNT. 2.5k

WARNINGS. drinking, mentions of drugs, illegal activities, nineteen-year age gap, kidnapping, reader falls in love with her kidnapper, sadism + masochism

SYNOPSIS. on the morning of january first, y/n wakes up chained to a wall, stripped to her undergarments, and a camera pointed right at her. strangely enough, behind the camera is what looks like a harmless, friendly, incredibly attractive man. as y/n and the mysterious Bang Chan begin to learn more about each other, y/n finds herself succumbing to stockholm syndrome: falling in love with her very own kidnapper

SMUT WARNINGS. sadism + masochism, use of vibrator, some non-con themes, sextape making, overstimulation + edging, corruption kink, exhibitionism, dumbification kink

As your eyes opened, you expected to wake up somewhere you didn't know. You were absolutely wasted the night before - New Year's Eve - and you had been almost one-hundred percent sure you would wake up in someone else's bed. However, you hadn't imagined that you would wake up with shackles around your ankles and wrists, keeping you tight against a concrete wall in a cold room that somewhat resembled your great-grandmother's basement.

You're flabbergasted, to say the last. In all of your years getting drunk and fucking random people, you had never been kidnapped. And either this guy was really fucking kinky, or you had been kidnapped.

You suspect the latter, seeing the tape recorder set up on a tripod in front of you, facing you. As you survey your surroundings, you also take in your attire - completely nude, spare for your lacy white bra and matching panties, complete with a small white bow.

"Morning."

You look up, startled at the handsome guy that you hadn't noticed enter the room.

"Y/N, right? I'm not sure I caught your name last night."

You vaguely remember his face as one of the guys you had danced with the night before, letting him grind up against you and grope your body to the beat of the music. You nod at him.

"Do you know why you're here, Y/N?"

You shake your head, staying silent.

"I find you quite beautiful, actually." The man has a thick Australian accent, one you're sure you remember from the party. "Really, a work of art. An ass to kill for, and apparently, unmatched intelligence."

"That's just a rumor," you say finally.

"Ahhhh, she speaks. You have such a pretty voice, sweetie." He sends you a dimpled smile. "I really don't think it is, though. Your IQ is three higher than that of Albert Einstein. Do you know what that means, sweetheart?"

You watch him, waiting for an answer.

"It means you are a certified genius." The man's smile drops. "This is why you've peaked my interest."

"'Cause I'm good at taking tests?" you ask softly.

He shakes his head. "Much more than that. I want to pick your brain apart, pretty girl. I wanna find out what makes you tick." Then, he smiles again, wickedly. "But more than that, I want to humiliate and violate you in ways you wouldn't have thought possible."

So that's what he is, you think to yourself. A psycho with a god complex.

"Do you think I can do that?" he asks.

"Do what?"

"Everything I just said."

"Yes I do."

He tilts his head at me. "Giving in so easy?"

"What else should I do?"

He moves closer to you, taking your chin in his hand and examining your face. "I suppose you're right."

You watch him, utterly stunned at how fucking exquisite your kidnapper's appearance is.

He backs away from you now, moving behind the tape recorder. He repositions it so that it's trained on you, then turns the viewing component of it so that you can see yourself, dangling helplessly and half-naked from the wall. "I'm going to start, yes?"

You nod slowly. You know that fighting whatever this man was about to do to you would be futile, so you waited and watched, eyelashes fluttering.

He retrieves a knife from a table of dangerous-looking utensils off to your left, returning to you.

"What should I call you?" you ask him suddenly, dreading the feel of the knife tracing your skin.

"Chris," he says simply. "In Korea, they call me Chan. Here they call me Chris."

"Chris? Or Chan? Which do you prefer?"

He tilts his head, as if puzzled by the question. "I'm not sure."

"I like Chan. It suits your face."

"Does it now?"

You nod, humming a "yes."

Chan's lips quirk up in a half-smile, and you find yourself smiling back. "First things first," he says after a moment, "I need to mark you."

"Mark me?"

He nods. "It won't hurt long, love." He moves around you, to your left side, and grasps your thigh gently. You bite back a gasp, watching as he lifts the knife. It's digging into your skin before you can protest, drawing a thin line of scarlet over the plush skin. You register in your mind it hurts, but it fascinates you to watch, taking your thoughts off the pain and onto the beauty of the letters that he's now carved into your leg. B.C., in small, pretty writing right in the middle of your thigh.

"Painful?" he asks, moving back to the table to the side and retrieving some sort of paper towel, returning to you and gently dabbing at the blood.

You blink. "A little."

"You didn't scream," he says.

"I didn't."

"I wish you would have."

"Would you like me to now?"

"No, sweetheart, don't force it."

You're surprised at how easy this conversation comes to you. This man just cut his initials into your thigh, and all you could think about were his pretty dimples and crinkly eyes.

"Where are you from?" you ask.

Chan looks up at you. "You baffle me," he says, examining you. Then, "I was born in Seoul, but I grew up in Sydney." He pauses. "You?"

You tell him where you were born, surprised at how intently he listened to you.

"I like hearing you speak," he says. "Your voice is beautiful."

You stay quiet, unsure what to think.

"I bet your screams would be beautiful too." A mischievous expression flits across his face. "You know what I bet would be the most beautiful of all?" He leans in close to you, so that his lips are right next to your ear. "Your moans."

You blink dumbly up at him.

"Look at you." He cradles your cheek in his hand, watching you with a bittersweet expression. "Intelligence already crumbling. I thought you'd last longer, sweetie."

You're tongue-tied, both disgusted and turned on by the sadistic words.

He pats your cheek once, twice, then turns away. "I'll be back later to bring you dinner, and a fun little toy."

"What am I supposed to do until then?" you ask quickly, desperate for him not to leave you. As much as you don't want to be down here with him, you even less want to be down here without him.

He shrugs. "You'll find something." Then he pauses. "Actually . . . would you like your toy early, hmm?"

You nod slowly. Chan retreats from the room, returning a few minutes later with a white box. He opens it, inside awaiting what looked like a vibrator. Nope, scratch that, it was a vibrator.

You swallow, looking at it, and Chan grins at you. "The best form of torture is too much pleasure, don't you agree, sweetie?"

You swallow hard, finding yourself nodding nervously.

Chan moves back over to you, stepping gracefully, and smiles. "For the next three hours, this is going to be attached directly to your clit."

You only stare at him.

He begins by removing your panties, then your bra, leaving you completely bare for him, and for the tape recorder.

"Pretty pussy," he mumbles, as though to himself. He leans forward, using one finger to spread your lower lips and another to prod around your private area, poking gently into your hole, then around your clit. Finally, he stops, bringing up the vibrator and configuring it so that the head stayed directly on your clit. He gently turns it on, watching as you gasp a little.

"Three hours," he says, tapping his wrist, then turning the vibrator to the highest setting. "I'll see you, pretty girl."

The moment the door is closed, unable to bite back the noises produced from this torturous device.

Three hours later, you've passed out four times, came at least twenty, and are shaking, dripping sweat, and sobbing. Your clit burns with too many sensations, and your stomach convulses violently with every buzz being emitted into your core.

When Chan reenters the room, he carries with him a plate of food. He sets it down quickly upon seeing your ragged state, mouth open slightly as he watches you.

You hardly notice him enter, buzzing with too many sensations. You only snap back to reality when you hear a shutter flick in front of you, and you find that he's taken a Polaroid photo of you.

He stays silent, listening to you whimper as the film develops. When it's complete, he turns off the vibrator, and you slump in your shackles. You feel him unlock your ankles, then your wrists, and you drop to your knees on the floor, still shaking vigorously.

Chan kneels beside you, brushing your hair from your face and soothingly thumbing your cheek. "Tired?"

You nod.

"Too tired to eat?"

You nod again.

"No you're not." He stands, retrieving the plate of food he brought with him. On it is what looks like a rather appetizing piece of chicken, salad, and small bowl of pasta. "Eat."

"What if I don't want to?"

"I'll force feed it to you."

You can't tell if he's joking, so you shakily take a bite. You struggle as you pick up your fork, and Chan takes it from you exasperatedly. "Let me," he says. He gathers a bit of salad on the fork, taps your jaw for you to open your mouth, and puts it in. You close your mouth, letting the lettuce fall onto your tongue, eyes locked with his.

"I'm sorry," you find yourself saying.

"Why?"

"I'm shaking."

"That's not your fault, is it?"

You shake your head.

"Then why are you sorry? Hmm?"

You shrug as he puts another bite of salad in your mouth.

The two of you stay silent for the rest of the meal. That night, he doesn't reshackle you, but locks the door behind him. The next day, he returns. At least, you assume it's the next day. You're not sure how much time has passed since you've woken up in this dank room. He'll come for a few hours in the morning, then leave for a few hours, then return for a few more. Each time he returns, he asks about you. As if he truly wants to get to know you, instead of killing you. He continues torturous ministrations, destroying your body and your mind in one. And somehow, you hardly mind.

Finally, on the evening of what you can guess is the ninth day, he returns as usual, bringing with him a meal.

He watches you eat, tongue in his cheek. "I'd like to bring you upstairs today."

You pause to stare at him. "Up . . . upstairs?"

He nods. "You should shower, before you stink any more."

You look down. "It's not exactly that sanitary down here."

"I'm well aware. That's why I'm bringing you up. I quite like you, honestly. So I'd like to propose to you an offer."

"An offer?"

"An offer. An exchange, I suppose. Your freedom for your service."

"Go on."

"You will marry me. You will be presented as my wife, and you will act as such in the public eye. In private, you are mine. You're my slave - my belonging."

"I just have to stay with you?" You look up at him. You're smart enough to know that even seeing the sunshine for a day being married to a kidnapper would be better than rotting down here until he eventually decided he'd had enough and kill you. Your mind was made up, but you were curious.

"Yes, love. I'm fond of you, actually."

Fond of me. You ponder this. "Okay . . . I'll do it. First, though, I have a question."

"Shoot."

"How old are you?"

Chan looks down. "I'm thirty-seven."

"Oh."

He nods. "You?"

"Eighteen." You meet his eyes.

"So young and fragile." Chan traces his fingers over your cheek. "So much to corrupt, hmm?"

You nod.

"Come on, you need to shower."

You let him bring you upstairs. You leave the basement into a small house. The walls are pretty pastels, decorated with plants and paintings of all varieties. Chan brings you away from the main floor, up another flight of stairs to what you can guess is his bedroom. It's neat and tidy, and an open door off to your right is your best guess at a bathroom.

He brings you into the bathroom, letting you strip out of the clothes he gave you a few days before, after finally giving in to your begging for warmth. You jump a little as he starts to remove his shirt. "What are you doing?"

"Stripping. I'm joining you."

"Um, why?"

"'Cause I'm not letting you off yourself with a razor in my shower."

"I wasn't gonna off myself with a razor in your shower."

"How do I know that?"

You watch him, deciding not to argue. The water is already on, steaming up the room, and his skin glistens with every movement. You avert your eyes from his dick, but you can see its general shape in your peripheral vision. Huge.

He pulls you into the shower by your waist, stepping in behind you. He'd seen you naked before, but something about this close proximity and steamy room felt so much more intimate than the hours of sextapes he had filmed of you.

Chan helps you wash your hair, then your body. His touch lingers over your curves, rubbing you in a way that you didn't know was possible. It's only moments after that you find yourself hoisted up, legs tucked around his waist, hands running through his hair, head tipped back as his lips attach to your neck.

"Do you promise to be mine?" he whispers into your jaw, teeth grazing your Adam's apple.

"I promise," you say desperately, watching him with hooded eyes.

He pushes inside you with no warning, already rock hard. You feel the tip of his member kissing your cervix, pressing in just the right ways against your walls. He kisses you hard, pushing you against the wall of the shower. Chan is thrusting inside you slowly, mouth struggling to stay attached to yours as the two of you are overwhelmed by emotions and sensations.

You cum at the same time as him, coaxing every last drop of cum from his cock.

You collapse into him, shaking as you come down from your high. He holds you gently, turning off the water and helping you out of the shower. He's wordless as he wraps a warm towel around you, kissing your forehead as he dries you, then himself, then helps you to his bed.

"Just sleep, love," he tells you softly. "I'll wake you up in the morning."

The next morning, Chan is beside you, sleeping soundly. For some reason, you're comforted by the sight. The man who kidnapped you nine days ago - who would have thought you'd be madly in love with him by the end of it all.

TAGLIST ⎯

@jisunglyricist @hash2013 let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist!!

[blue-jisungs]

daydreamin’

song inspo. daydreamin’ by ariana grande

a/n. i actually ro wanted to write this ever since i saw soobin lipsyncing this song on that one radio show <\\3 also experienced with the lil layout gif thingy ++ blond soob !!!!!!!!

oh and it’s my first post for the july jam session event so enjoy!! check it out to see what’s going on teehee

summary. soobin walked in and simply caught your attention… you would have never guessed how it would end

warnings. cursing + reader is kind of awkward but it’s cute tho <\3

you were sitting in your class, the professor being more boring than usual. it was nearly 20 minutes past 8am when the door slammed open and someone walked in, grey hoodie thrown over his blond hair. he walked hesitantly, long legs making small steps.

your eyes lingered on him, you couldn’t help but admit that he caught your attention.

“sorry for being late, the traffic…” the stranger spoke out, awkward smile plastering on his plush lips. your heart skipped a beat upon that sight.

“alright, soobin. just sit somewhere” the professor let out a disappointed sigh. soobin. what a cute name.

before you realised, he caught you staring. eyes growing wide, he smiled cutely which resulted in his dimples showing. could this guy be any cuter?!

he sat next to you, a bit awkward and stealing glances at you every once in a while.

after the class finished, soobin grabbed his bag and left the room hurriedly. he didn’t notice his pencil case falling out.

you picked it up and left a scoff, amused by the bunny shaped case. what a guy. you’ll give it back to him on the nearest occasion.

you haven’t seen soobin for the next day too. which didn’t mean you haven’t thought about him. it was crazy how a guy that you sat next to during one lesson had you so whipped.

resting your chin on your palm you were deep in thought, daydreaming about him. it was weird, you knew but he was so cute! you couldn’t help it. his awkwardness made him even more adorable, constantly on your mind. you recalled the way he walked, a little stiff but sweet in a way.

playing with the bunny pencil case with your free hand you huffed. suddenly you heard someone’s shushed whispers.

“–insane?! i tell you, you are. go see a doctor!”

you turned around slightly and noticed… soobin. he was talking with a friend of his. soobin’s ebony eyes were sparking with mischief, a silly smile blooming on his face.

“i’m literally not! and don’t look at me like that!” he huffed, soft lips forming into a pout. he crossed his arms and looked away from his friend, eyes meeting yours.

you quickly turned around and hid the pencil case. you still need to give it back to him.

a smile crept on your face. the way he talked was so cute, too.

you walked to the library, passing soobin in the hallway. he was too good looking for his own good… and you still had to return the bunny case he lost.

finally finding a place to occupy you sighed, taking out your stuff. putting your headphones in and shuffling a random song you failed to hear approaching footsteps.

a sigh left your mouth when you finally sat down, with your chin in the plan of your hand. you noticed the small bunny doodles you made on a exercise sheet and just shook your head.

suddenly you felt an arm on your shoulder.

letting out a surprising yelp, you turned around only to meet soobin’s heart warming grin.

“hi”

you took out your headphones, the random ariana grande’s song that played going quiet.

“hi” you smiled back, unable to look away from his dimples.

“i uh… i noticed you have my pencil case”

your smile dropped, eyes widening in realisation. fuck. shit. you look like a weirdo now.

you started rummaging through your bag in order to find it, your own belongings almost flying in the air everywhere.

“i… uh… sorry! i promise it’s not what it looks like! you dropped it and– and i wanted to give it to you, i swear but you just… i just… didnt–” you rambled nervously. soobin laughed.

your heart skipped a beat upon hearing that angelic sound and that’s when you saw the bunny pencil case at the bottom of your bag.

“i was too shy” you added quietly, wanting to hand him back his property. mentally you already said goodbye to any chances with him and only daydreaming about what ifs but soobin was already sitting down next to you.

“i understand, truly. i was a little bit pissed because my friends wouldn’t lend me any pens so for the past few days i wasn’t taking notes…” he hummed hesitantly, his large hand brushing ever so slightly against yours when he grabbed the bunny case from your hands “… so would you mind lending me your notes? we can grab, uh, coffee too… if you’d like”

“no! i mean yes! i mean, uh… fuck” you let out a sigh, blood hitting your cheeks from embarrassment. soobin just smiled wildly, amused “i meant it as in no, i wouldn’t mind and yes, i’d love to. grab coffee, with you”

“it’s a date then. shall we go?” he asked, tilting his head.

“o-oh. now? sure” you nodded and before you walked away, stunned, soobin reminded you about your belongings laying on the floor. he helped you pick them up too, stealing glances at your cutely flushed face.

“–y/n? she’s gone. like gone gone” beomgyu sighed, snapping his fingers in front of your face. you blinked slowly, looking confused at soobin. he just smiled tenderly “oh, not anymore. welcome back i guess”

“what were you…?” soobin hummed. he knew it well: the way you rested your chin on the plan of your hand, faint smile on your lips. he knew but still…

“daydreamin’” you giggled “about you… you… and only you”

“you’re so gross. get a room!” beomgyu pushed you slightly – but not with too much force – causing you to plop onto your boyfriend’s lap. soobin chuckled and wrapped his arms around you, placing a tender kiss on the crown of your head.

txt masterlist | event masterlist

taglist.  @geniejunn ,, @luvhyun3 ,, @elviransworld  ,, @starlostseungmin ,, @jnks6r ,, @sieunsgf ,, @ethereallino ,, @laylasbunbunny ,, @duolingofanaccount ,, @slytherinshua ,, @stxrseungs ,, @ka-ni-ma ,, @iliveforlixie ,, @ameliesaysshoo ,, @dazzlingligth ,, @mark-geolli ,, @l3visbby ,, @w3bqrl ,, @ddeonudepressions ,, @yourfavoritefreakyhan ,, @mirxzii ,, @kazmura ,, @primoppang

[writemekpop]

Get Lucky | Qian Kun

Summary: When things start to get sexy with your new date Kun, he gets scared.

Genre: Drunk!Kun, fluff

Word Count: 0.6k

“You know… I’m a teeny-weeny bit DRUNK,” Kun whispered, pressing his palms to his cheeks.

You looked at Kun’s glazed-over hazel eyes, his cheeky grin, the way his normally perfect hair was in disarray.

“No shit, Sherlock,” you said, laughing.

Kun leant down and captured his pink curly straw between his lips. He sucked long and slow on his pina colada, his eyes never leaving yours.

The way he looked at you made your entire spine tingle.

You fanned yourself. “Is it just me, or is it getting hot in here? What do you say we take this somewhere else… like my place?”

Kun stared deep into your eyes. He reached his hand forwards, and tentatively, touched your thigh.

You could have moaned in pleasure. This was your third date, and you’d only pecked him on the lips once. You were dying for more.

He smiled bashfully. “I have to admit, the thoughts I am having right now are not very... gentlemanly.”

You leaned towards him, smirking. “Good thing I don’t want a gentleman.”

Kun touched the hem of your skirt. He couldn’t meet your eyes.

“What do you say we…” he mumbled. But then a Rihanna song started playing, and the other people in the bar cheered so loud it drowned his voice out.

“What did you say?” You shouted over the thumping bass. “I can’t hear you!”

Kun looked around, as if contemplating whether to repeat himself. Then, he shook his head and stood up.

He pulled on his jacket. “I just remembered… I’ve got a very important meeting in the morning. I’ve got to go!” 

You frowned. “But tomorrow’s Sunday! Wait!”

But it was too late, because Kun had disappeared.

--

You stumbled into your apartment, alone, and even more drunk.

Your kitten, Baghira, mewled.

You knelt down and stroked her black fur.

“It’s just like my mum,” You sniffed. “Why does everybody leave me?”

Just then, you heard a knock on your door.

You pulled the door open and saw Kun. He looked handsome, with his deep dimples and plump lips. His face was tinged a deep red.

“Kun? What are you doing here?” Your heart started to pound.

Kun straightened himself up, brushing the dust from his jacket.

“Y/n, I’m sorry for running away like that. It was rude. I do want to be with you, it’s just… it’s just.” He sighed.  

Kun pulled his hand out from behind his back and gave you a bar of Twix. You looked at him quizzically.

He pouted. “I wanted to get you flowers, but the only thing open this late was the vending machine.”

You giggled, swooning internally. Then you remembered how he’d ditched you, and the feeling vanished.

“I really am sorry,” Kun said, tugging a hand through his deep black hair. “I left because… everything was happening so fast. I want us to be more than some random hook-up.” He met your eyes. “When I make love to you, I want to do it right. I want it to mean something.”

You nodded. “If we’re gonna sleep together, let’s do it properly. Girlfriend and boyfriend.”

Kun grinned. “So… can I come in?”

“I’ll give you one last chance – but only coz you’re hot,” you said, shaking your head. You stepped to the side to allow him in.

Kun walked in and pulled you towards him. He kissed your lips softly. “I promise you won’t regret this,” he whispered.

Your heart thumped. “I know I won’t.”

—

MAIN MASTERLIST

Let us know what you thought in the comments or on anon! 💋

[do-it-jakey-baby]

An Unlikely Encounter

Jake Kiszka x f!reader

Warnings: smut, drinking, language

18+, MINORS DNI

Ok, here it is. I had so much fun writing the second chapter. I think this storyline has so much potential, I hope you’re all enjoying it as much as I am! 🫶🏻

Chapter 2 3.6k word count

Awoken by the dim morning light, you softly stir until your arm brushes against a warmth sharing the hotel bed. Your eyes snap open and dart over to the figure, your mind swimming.

Oh fucking hell, who is this? Please, please don’t let it be my ex you plead to yourself, wondering how you could be so stupid. You search your mind for any recollection of the night before, but it remains blank. Your frantic energy must have disturbed the figure, as they roll over and tuck an arm around your waist.

“Good morning, beautiful. How did you sleep?”

Ok, that’s definitely not my ex, you thought. That voice… where do I know that voice from?

“Uh… hey?” The voice speaks out again.

The arm tucked around your waist pulls you over so that you are now face to face, and there he was.

“Jake” you breathed with a smile.

Suddenly last night’s antics flooded back into your mind, and you felt your face flush hot.

“I um… I slept good. Thanks” you manage.

He chuckles softly and moves his hand to your face, cradling your blush bitten cheeks.

“Wow… you are just so beautiful” he purrs lightly, his voice filled with adoration for your natural state.

You scrunch your nose and move to hide your face behind the duvet, but he pulls you back closer and places a kiss on your freckle-studded complexion. The gentleness behind his actions make your heart flutter. How can a person who barely knows you be so intuitive to your needs? The way you crave intimacy far beyond sex? More importantly, why did this person have to be a famous rockstar, who without a doubt would have no interest in carrying on whatever this is when he ultimately leaves for his next show.

How could you have been so stupid?

Whilst you laid there, woven between his arms, your mind spiralling with a thousand frenzied thoughts, Jake was none the wiser. He was content in the moment that you both were sharing, watching you silently, observing the small and seemingly insignificant details. The way your hair framed your face perfectly, even after it had been tussled from your slumber. The dimples in your cheeks, the softness of your skin, the way you rubbed your thumb across his back. He fixated on all these little things, subconsciously committing them to core memories. Meanwhile, you had dug yourself into a pit of despair.

You launched yourself from the bed and hastily started getting dressed. Jake propped himself up on his elbows, perplexed to say the least.

“In a rush to get somewhere?”

You stopped in your tracks, frozen by his words as they snapped your attention away from the incessant buzz within your head and brought you tumbling back into reality.

“Uh… yeah. I have to check out by 11. Not sure I want to incur any late fees.” You mumbled, beginning to collect your belongings to pack them away.

Jake had begun to move from his position on the bed to make his way towards you, wearing nothing but his boxer shorts.

“Hey, let me help with that.”

He reached for an item on the floor at the same time as you and your hands touched briefly. You recoiled hastily and snapped your eyes onto his. He looked up at you, his eyebrows knitting together, visibly confused by your reaction.

“Are you ok?”

Before you could stop yourself, the words were coming out.

“No, actually. I am not. What the fuck am I doing? I am not the type of girl who lets random rockstars back to her hotel room. I do not do one night stands, especially not with people who have no interest in seeing me ever again. You probably do this every night with a different girl and I am not letting myself feel the things I am feeling only to end up hurting over another fucking guy!”

The visceral reaction to your words was evident. Jake’s face contorted, every inch of his body tensed, his hands flew up to his face as he rubbed his temples and sighed. His reaction prompted your memory to kick in, replaying his words from the previous evening like a projector cast on a screen.

“I’m sorry. Fuck. I’m sorry… I’d had too much to drink and-” You were panicking now, tears pricking at your eyes. As you felt yourself begin to crumble, his arms wrapped around you.

“Whoa, hey, hey. Steady there.” He guided you to the foot of the bed and sat you down, kneeling before you.

“I wont lie, Y/N, that hurt” he paused, sucking in air steadily through his mouth. “But I can tell you’ve been hurt before, by other guys. I promise you, I don’t do this. Ok, maybe I did when we first started touring and I was an excited, horny kid. But not now, not since... Look, I like you, a lot. I know we only met for the first time yesterday, but you’re the most amazing girl I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting. I want to carry on getting to know you.”

“You mean it, you really do?” You sniffed, feeling ridiculous and silently cursing your decision to drink so much last night.

He brought his hand to your face and gently wiped away your tears with the pad of his thumb.

“Yes, who the fuck wouldn’t want to get to know you, angel?”

Utterly enamoured by his words, a crimson haze washed across your cheeks. Your heart fluttered from within your ribcage as you played his words over and over again in your mind, wanting to savour every droplet of the moment.

“So, are you going to be my tour guide today?” He beamed, breaking you from your trance.

“I’d really love to, but I don’t have anywhere to leave my stuff…” you gestured to the mess of your belongings surrounding you.

“Well, we’re staying just around the corner, I’d be happy for you to leave it in my room.”

~

The Uber drive to the hotel was short, you’d insisted on walking as it really wasn’t far at all, but Jake would not take no for an answer. When the cab pulled up outside the entrance, Jake was quick to walk around to your side and open the door for you, extending his hand out for you to take.

“A gentleman.” You giggled.

“I can be at times, love.” He winked, playfully feigning a Cockney accent.

He retrieved your bags and carried them up to his room, setting them down on the floor before sitting at the foot of his bed and looking up at you with a smile dancing on his lips.

“Would you like to meet my brothers?”

Now, suddenly nervous, you shuffled slightly on your feet. He noticed and beckoned you over to sit on his lap.

“I’d love to, I’m just worried they wont like me.”

“They are going to love you, because I do.”

You shot him a look and his eyes widened.

“Oh… no no. I didn’t… uh, I-”

You captured his face in your hands and kissed his lips softly.

“I know what you meant.” You hummed, tapping your finger lightly onto the tip of his nose. He softened and melted into you, capturing you in a kiss that knocked the air out of your lungs. You felt him smile and then his eyes met yours.

“Ok angel, let’s go meet them.”

After you got yourself ready properly, you shuffled out awkwardly into the hallway following closely behind Jake like a lost puppy. He stopped at the door just down from his and rapped his knuckles against the smooth rosewood.

“Coming!” A voice hollered.

The door swung open and there stood Josh, dressed in a cream sweatshirt and sand coloured slacks, beaming brightly. You were hit with an intoxicating scent that wrapped around you like velvet, spicy yet sweet, but warm and inviting. It was a delicious ensnaring of the senses, and you thought to yourself that this fragrance completely personified Josh and his captivating aura.

“Baby brother!” He exclaimed. “And who is this? Ah, you must be the beautiful young lady from our show last night. My dear, you are ethereal.” He took your hand and placed a dainty kiss on the back.

“Baby brother? I was born five minutes after you Josh!” Jake rolled his eyes. “And no making moves on this one, she’s mine.” That familiar feeling crept over you again as your cheeks were set ablaze.

“Hi Josh, it’s so lovely to meet you.” You giggled shyly. Josh moved aside and gestured for you both to come in.

“Please, sit.” He smiled, perching himself on the cream leather sofa and patting the seat next to him. You sat down and Jake took the seat beside you, effectively sandwiching you between the twins.

“This is Y/N, Josh.” Jake hummed eagerly.

“A divine name for a divine being.” Josh winked. “So, what do we owe the pleasure of your presence?” Jake playfully hit his brother and began to answer, but was cut off by the door hurling open and another two men wondering in, bickering with one another.

“I’m just saying, Thor could totally take Superman. Josh, don’t you thi-”

“Sam, we have a guest.” Josh interrupted, motioning to you.

“Oh shit, hey!” Sam exclaimed.

“Hey! Nice to meet you.” Danny chimed in.

“Ohhhh, you’re the girl from the show last night. Niceeee.” Sam shot a look at Jake and raised his eyebrows in approval.

“Ok, will you all shut up!” Jake chuckled, raising his hand and pointing at the three boys who were all sniggering in unison. “This is Y/N.”

“It’s good to meet you both. Great show last night by the way.” You desperately wanted to steer the conversation away from the road it was currently going down, feeling yourself being consumed by embarrassment. “Jake said you guys wanted to explore London today, I’d be happy to show you around.”

“Beautiful, gracious, and thoughtful. Why on earth are you wasting yourself on our dear Jacob?” Josh teased. Jake lunged at Josh and they both grappled each other before submitting into a puddle of laughter on the floor.

“You better get used to that, doll. It’s a constant power struggle.” Danny smirked.

“We’d love for you to join us today, Y/N. Thanks for offering to babysit us.” Sam trilled, sitting down next to you and throwing his arm over your shoulder. “I can see us becoming fast friends.”

~

As you exited the hotel you felt the crisp air slap you in the face. The winter sun was singing against the cerulean sky, illuminating the world with her heavenly beams. You were bundled up in your woolly hat, a chunky oversized scarf, and a long-line, pillowy puffer coat. The boys didn’t seem to be phased by the cold, all significantly less swaddled.

“Are you guys like, immune to the cold or something?” You laughed.

“We grew up in Michigan, honey. We’re used to a lot of snow.” Sam remarked.

“Yeah, it’s permanently Christmas in Frankenmuth.” Danny added.

“So, pretty lady, where are you taking us?” Jake probed, pulling you close to him and wrapping his arm around your waist.

“What are you in the mood for?”

“Surprise us.”

You nodded and lead the way, weaving through streets and partaking in casual conversation as you walked. You halted at a building and made your way in through the doors, feeling the rush of the central heating engulfing you. There was a counter in the corner of the room with a few employees dotted about.

“5 for crazy golf, please.” You addressed to the closest employee to you. She nodded and began ringing you up on the till, then bent down to retrieve 5 putters.

“Awesome! I’m gunna whoop all your asses!” Sam exclaimed excitedly.

“Hey! I’m the best golfer.” Danny bragged.

The employee placed the putters on the counter and looked up at her customers. “Holy SHIT! You’re Greta Van Fleet!” She blurted, mouth agape. “Can I get a picture with you?!”

“Of course! What’s your name, sweetheart?” Josh smiled, showcasing his signature toothy grin.

The employee visibly swooned, seeming to forget her name for a moment. She collected herself and replied “It’s Anna. Oh my god, thank you. I love you!”

“I love you too, Anna. Come on over.” Josh gestured to the group. You started to move out of the way, not wanting to intrude on their moment with a fan.

“Y/N, come here and get in the photo.” Jake called over.

“Are you sure?” You hesitated.

“Yeah of course babe!” The girl insisted.

You found a place next to Jake and he immediately draped his arm over you. A colleague of the girl snapped a few pictures and she excitedly took her phone back, gushing over the photos and proclaiming her gratitude. You all made your way back to the counter and the girl passed over the putters.

“It’s on the house, the least I can do!” She trilled with a gigantic smile.

“Thank you so much, Anna. Such a kind gesture.” Josh said, placing his hand over hers. As you began to walk away and start your game, Anna pulled you to one side.

“You’re so lucky! How do you know them?” She probed.

“I.. uh..” you started, but Jake’s arm looped around yours and he swiftly pulled you away towards the rest of the boys.

“Thanks so much again, Anna. Lovely to meet you.” Jake grinned with a wave.

“Thanks.” You breathed as he whisked you away from the uncomfortable scenario.

~

“How the fuck did you beat me?!” Sam exclaimed, jabbing Danny in the ribs. “I want a rematch!”

The game had been hilarious from start to finish, and it seemed to be just what the boys needed after a hectic few days of back-to-back shows. You’d learned a lot about them over the past 2 hours or so, and they now had a glimpse into the life that you led in the UK. You explored the city further after the game, sight-seeing, taking more photos with eager fans, and countless playful arguments between the 4 lads. You were thoroughly entertained watching them bicker, feeling the brotherly love that blossomed between them. After a lot of adventure, you settled into a pub to grab some long-awaited nourishment, but after you’d fed yourselves you ended up drinking. Now, fully immersed in a game of beer pong, intoxication was taking its hold.

“I really need to catch a train home soon, or I’ll be stuck in London.” You giggled, poking Jake playfully. He grabbed onto your wrist as you went in to jab him again and span you around, stalking you into a corner, away from prying eyes. He backed up against the wall and pulled at your waist so that your ass pressed up against him. You could feel how hard he was as he snaked his arm up across your chest and onto your throat. He jerked your head back, hand still gripped around your neck and lowered his head so that his lips were in line with your ear, softly brushing against your skin.

“Maybe, I don’t want you to.” He whispered, his other hand creeping down from your waist and lowering until his fingers gently caressed your throbbing pussy over your leggings. “Maybe, I want you to come back to my hotel room so I can fuck you until you’re trembling and cumming all over my sheets.”

You let out a strangled moan, and his hand left your heat and flew up to your mouth, muffling the noises you were making. You opened your mouth and let his fingers in, sucking on them to tease him right back, and reached your arm behind your head and to tangle your hand in his chestnut locks. He planted a kiss on your jawline and then released you, sauntering back to his brothers. You stood there for a moment, chest heaving, then quickly composed yourself and followed suit.

“Ha! Drink up, loser!” Sam roared at Danny as he sank his ball into the last cup on the table.

“We’re gunna call it a night.” Jake interjected.

“Ohhhh, I see. You kids have fun!” Sam taunted.

You said your goodbyes and made your way to the door alongside Jake.

“Be safe!” Josh called out with a wink. “See you again soon, Y/N? It’s been a pleasure.

~

You’d barely made it through the door of Jake’s hotel room and he was on you, like a man starved. His mouth finds yours and engulfs you in a passionate kiss, hungrily nibbling your bottom lip and coaxing his tongue inside to meet yours. You moan against him as he pulls you onto the bed and on top of him. You grind up against him vigorously, the friction hitting you in all the right places.

“Fuck, you’re so fucking hot” he breathes in between sloppy kisses. The electricity in the room is far more intense than the first time, now that you’ve had a taste and tested your limits you want to give him more. You hastily find his belt buckle and begin to undress his lower half. You claw at his zipper and rip his jeans off, delving into his boxers to release his cock from its restraint. It springs out and slaps against his stomach, hard as a fucking rock. You spit on your hand and wrap your fingers around his shaft, running them slowly up and down. His breath quickens with every pump. You meet his eyes and lower yourself so that your mouth is inches away, then lick an agonising stripe from the base up to his helmet, stopping to lap your tongue over the pre-cum forming at his tip. He begins to moan and bucks his hips slightly, so you take him by surprise by hollowing out your cheeks and swallow him into your mouth until he hits the back of your throat.

“Oh, fuck!” He cries, balling his fist into your hair. Your head bobs a few times, and you cradle his balls at the same time.

“Y/N, can I?” He pants, as he begins to slowly move his hips. You look up at him, your eyes signalling the green light. He thrusts into your mouth and fucks your throat hard and fast. You feel your eyes start to water and try hard to fight off the inevitable gags, but as he keeps going you succumb and promptly gag around his length, the reflex constricting and tightening your throat. He whines and pulls you off him by your hair, a long string of spit being the only thing that still connects you. He looks at you with blackened eyes and shoves you onto your back, ripping off your leggings and panties.

“Your turn, Princess.”

He dives in between your legs, his tongue finding a home between your folds. You writhe underneath him as he eats your pussy as if it’s his last meal, savouring every drop. He laps over your clit expertly, teasing a symphony of wails from your lips. He inserts two fingers inside you and pumps in and out, curling them over the sweet spot inside you whilst continuing to suck and lick your sensitive bud. You feel that familiar pressure rising, the same as the night before, perhaps even more intense this time.

“Cum all over my fucking face, sweetheart.” He croons, and then you are. You plunge into absolute ecstasy as you gush over him and the bed sheets, soaking everything in sight. He continues to strum his fingers viciously over your clit like you are his beloved Les Paul as he prolongs your high.

“Oh fuck. Yes, Jake, fuck!!” You scream, not caring who hears, you are completely consumed in pleasure.

You hazily drift down from your high and notice the extent of the mess you’ve made. Jake’s face and hair are completely soaked.

“Fuck, baby. That was amazing.” He coos, drunk from arousal.

“Jake, fuck me. Please, fuck me so hard I can’t walk tomorrow. I need you.” You plead. He pulls his shirt off with urgency and removes yours, palming at your breasts as he lines himself up with your entrance. He thrusts hard and fills you up, and you both moan in unison. It doesn’t take long before your cumming again, then he pulls out and barks for you to turn around. You flip yourself over and get onto your hands and knees, then he plunges inside you again. The new angle that he has you in is hitting all the right spots, as he fucks into you mercilessly. You cry out as he pounds into you, the bed creaking and slamming against the wall with every thrust.

“I’m… fuck. I’m not gunna last much longer, angel. Give me one more.”

He brings his hand around your hips and rubs circles into your clit, and within seconds you’re cumming for the third time.

“Yes, that’s it, baby. Such a good girl for me.”

“Oh fuck, that feels so fucking good, Jakey!” You screech out.

He growls at the pet name, as his hips stutter and you feel his sweet release fill you up. He chants your name like a prayer as your knees collapse underneath you. You stay there like that for a few moments, catching your breath. He gently pulls out of you and you hiss, already tender from his annihilation of you.

“I’m gunna grab a washcloth to clean you up, baby. You stay there, I’ll be right back.” You smile to yourself as he wanders off into the bathroom, and reach down to the side of the bed to retrieve your phone from your bag. It’s the first time you’ve checked it since the night before, and you’re startled by the sheer amount of notifications waiting for you. Your screen lights up as a call comes in, it’s your best friend. You answer and bring the phone up to your ear, feeling guilty that you left her in radio silence for so long.

“Hey, girl. I’m so sorry I-”

“Y/N?! I’ve tried to call you so many times. Have you seen?!”

“Have I seen what?”

“Uhhh.. everything! You’re trending, like everywhere. There’s photos of you with Greta Van Fleet!! Everyone thinks you’re Jake Kiszka’s new girlfriend!”

[puckthisshift]

Please share the director‘s commentary for ‚always leads to you in my hometown‘💙

Okay so I wrote this story for a wonderful friend of mine, and my informant (Otter) told me that this friend was particularly intrigued by a random plot bunny about virgin Matthew. We've had so many chat fics going in Discord DMs, you don't even know.

More rambling under the cut

I wanted to write a Matthew who just... was more focused on hockey than on relationships, who learned just enough at Catholic school to want his first time to be special, who didn't make it about internalized homophobia but instead wasn't going to sleep with someone he didn't want to bring home to his family eventually.

Leon being the slutty bad boy was a choice in contrast, because while I think Leon is absolutely a romantic, he could either lean into romance or avoid it entirely after getting his heart broken a few too many times. Plus, he has that Romance Hero vibe where he comes across as grumpy at first, but he's hiding a big heart underneath.

Writing a Leon who isn't already falling for Matthew was a fun exercise, because while he is intrigued by Matthew on several levels (hockey, looks, the banter, and Matthew telling him no)... Leon is determined not to have feelings for anyone. As they go to the Tkachuk home, Leon keeps having these little moments in which he's so charmed by Matthew. I purposefully added the little details like Leon getting a little too into Matthew's freckles and dimple (finding out all of these new things about someone he had a lot of preconceived notions about), and noticing that Matthew was nervous and trying to put him at ease - but still trying to bring out that snarky side too. And Leon falls a little bit in love when Matthew makes him laugh in bed.

Of course, Leon would wanna fuck at the Tkachuk house. There's something intimate about a childhood room instead of the anonymity of a hotel room - and there's a part of Leon that wanted to make sure Matthew was somewhere he felt safe. That and he's a horny fucker who likes the idea of sneaking in right under the great Keith Tkachuk's nose to fuck his son. I love this bad boy Leon, you don't even know.

And then they're done and Leon gets back to his routine of leaving after, of not letting himself make this into something that it's not. The ring is a complete surprise to him, and he doesn't know what it means right away, but then Matthew is kicking him out and that hits him in the ego. He spends most of the flight back fiddling with the ring where people can't see him and trying to put it together.

Buying a chain to wear it on is an impulse he can't quite push down. The ring matters, and Leon isn't going to throw it in a drawer somewhere. It's too important for that. Matthew's gotten under his skin and Leon doesn't know how to deal with that. It's why he lashes out when Matthew calls the ring meaningless. It's not meaningless to Leon - not anymore, and maybe it never was.

The next time, Leon finally gets to say what he wanted to say the whole time. His own first time wasn't great and he can't stand the thought that he might have done anything like that to Matthew. Matthew, who's so special. Matthew, who immediately wants to fight Leon's first - and yeah, Leon's lost the battle. He's falling. He's fallen.

Initially, I was going to write Leon's do-over, with an uncertain Matthew figuring out how to fuck someone, but the story kept stalling there. It just didn't quite work for me - and because I know that the friend I wrote it for likes it better when Leon tops, I deleted a part of the scene and gave Leon his moment to talk about his own regrets. Most of the story so far was about Matthew's feelings and Matthew's hopes and fears and regrets - and giving Leon his moment too actually made it work so much better. It feels like another chance for them, and because it isn't a first this time, they both get to be more comfortable with each other - they have something to build on. And that just seemed like a better metaphor for the relationship they're starting to build here.

A part of me wonders if I should have ended it there, but since I love a bit of humor, I felt like I had to include a scene where they revisit the childhood room to really make it come full circle. Back in St. Louis, back in the exact same location but they've both grown so much since then (plus torturing Brady is a bonus, you know there's a point where he overhears or Matthew and Leon forgot to lock the door).

Thanks for the ask, this was fun!

[strayfoxxchan]

Class Time

Pairing: Bang Chan x f!reader (Y/N)

Genre: Fluff, Teacher AU

Content Warning: None

A/N: I will finish this at some point...

The morning was brisk, and tiny crystalline snowflakes had begun to coat your scarf. Unfortunately, the bus stop offered little to nothing in the way of protection from the elements. At this early hour, commuters had only just begun to leave the warmth of their homes, but only a few people used this stop. You pull your knees to your chest, perching on the cool metal bench to keep your body heat from escaping and resting your chin in your hand. The headphones on your head beat through your ears, and the lo-fi sound is perfect for the day's mood. Your eyes close lazily.

Instinctively, you furrow your brow and tilt your head to the side, the feeling of eyes on you palpable. Your eyes flutter open and dart to the side. A man sits next to you, almost mirroring you perfectly: headphones, scarf, cozy hoodie, and jacket. He’s looking at you, and you both quickly look away as your eyes meet. He looks to the side, trying to act as if nothing has happened. You look back at him and take in his features. A beanie covers his hair, but you can see curls poking out near the brim. His eyes look kind, if tired, and he seems pretty muscular under the bulk of his winter clothes. He was cute, and you hadn’t had a chance to flirt with someone in a long while. You grin to yourself.

“D’you make it a habit of staring at girls, or is something stuck to my face?” You arch your brow. Wow, I am so off my game, you think to yourself immediately. That came out more aggressive than flirty; figure your shit out.

“As a matter of fact,” the man says, pulling his headphones down around the back of his neck, “yeah, you have got something stuck to your face.” He leans close to you, running a thumb gently across your lashes, the warmth of his hand melting the snowflakes accumulated there—a bold, dimpled smile blooms across his face.

You feel your heart begin to race, caught completely off guard. He was Australian; you hadn’t expected that. “Oh,” you say, brushing a lock of curled hair behind your ear and looking away. Get it together! “Uh,” you clear your throat, “what are you listening to?” Smooth.

“A couple of friends and I are working on a few tracks together,” he says. “Wanna hear?” He pulls off the headphones and hands them to you.

“Oh, are you a producer?” You say as you replace your headphones with his.

“Nah, maybe someday. Right now, I’m just coaching. Tell me what you think,” the man looks down, scrolling through his phone before hitting play. 

It was a chill beat with definite hip-hop roots. The lyrics switched between Korean and English, rap and song, but the rhymes were in harmony. You begin to nod your head, feeling the music’s lyrics move through you. “This song is good; I could see myself listening to it,” you look at him and smile, handing the headphones back. 

“You think so?” The man looks away again, scratching the back of his head. Finally, he swings back around, holding his hand out to you. He introduces himself as “Chris.”

“Y/N,” you say, taking his hand in yours. It’s warm, and you find yourself not wanting to let go. “Did you say ‘Sydney to Seoul? You’re a long way from home.”

“Yeah, I moved here a long time ago, though. I haven’t seen home for a while. So, what about you?” He moves the headphones back onto his neck. “Let me guess, LA?”

“How could you tell?” you say, taken aback slightly.

“You just have that vibe,” Chris laughs nervously. “I’ve got some friends from LA.”

You laugh back. “I guess I’ll take that. But yeah, I moved here recently. I’m teaching some art classes at XXXX high school.”

“That’s the school I’m coaching in! I thought I recognized you from somewhere. Guess we’re commuting buddies, hey?” He bumps shoulders with you, sneaking just a bit closer on the seat. 

The two of you spend most of the bus ride huddled together. Chris explains the roots of “3RACHA” as a group name. You show him random bits of art you’ve created over the last few months. The heat of his shoulder pressed against yours does more to keep you warm than the scarf and coat. From the outside looking in, one might mistake you two for excitable high schoolers rather than the teachers you were. 

You hardly realize the bus is slowing to a stop in front of the high school. It feels like you’ve reconnected with an old friend the way you manage to fall into an amiable conversation. His gentle hand resting on your knee feels familiar and comfortable when something excites him. Then, finally, the robotic voice coming over the speakers snaps you back into reality, and you gather your things and disembark the bus together. 

“What class are you teaching?” Chris asks as you approach the steps to the school.

“Character Design, up on the second floor.”

“Maybe I’ll see you later?” The lilt of his accent makes you smile. You nod at him and wave. He heads around back, presumably to the field, and you walk up to the front entrance.

Around lunchtime, you hear a quiet rap on the door that startles you out of your solitude. You don’t usually have morning classes, but you like to be at school early to work on your art. Your apartment was small, so working in the classroom allowed you room enough to spread out your mess. “Come in,” you call from your desk by the window, pushing your glasses up your nose.

“Thought we could have lunch together?” Chris walks in with a tray of cafeteria food in each hand. 

“Oh, hey you! Let me grab you a chair,” you say, scooting out from the desk. You grab a chair from a stack in the corner and drag it to sit opposite yours. Chris places the trays on the desk. “Mmmm, bibimbap,” your mouth starts to water. 

“Why aren’t there any desks in here? I thought this was an art class?” He says, chopsticks half raised to his mouth.

“We’re doing figure drawing today; they won't be at their desks. I still have to move some things around, but I can do that after I’m fed.” Your stomach growls before you stuff your mouth full of veggies and bulgogi. 

“Figure drawing? You going to have a naked guy in here?” He looks shocked for a moment.

“D’you really think I’d put a naked man in front of a group of high schoolers?” You laugh at him, motioning to the space with your chopsticks.  “No, they switch off sitting in the middle and draw each other.”

“Why don’t you model?” He stares at you with a big smile. “You’re probably the prettiest ssaem in this school.”

“Oh, stop,” you scoff at him playfully. “I have a class to teach, and I can’t be sitting there forever.”

“I could model for you today?” Chris suggests through a mouthful of rice. “I haven’t got another class for a few hours.”

“You’d do that for me?”

“Why not? It’ll give me some time to rest,” he grins at you. 

When you finish your lunch, Chris begins to stack the dishes neatly. Then, finally, you stand up, walk to a corner of the room filled with large wooden drawing horses, and pull them down. Unfortunately, they’re stacked relatively high, no doubt as a prank by one of your students, and you find yourself standing on your toes to grab them. A horse begins to slide, causing Chris to come dashing toward you.

“Woah there, let’s not get hurt, yeah?” Chris’s body is pressed against your back, holding the horse up so as not to knock you on your head. Your heart pounds, and it’s not from the adrenaline caused by the impending injury from the horse. He maneuvers the large wooden object down to rest on the ground, careful not to hit you. “Are you okay?” He strokes the top of your head.

You clear your throat, going around him to drag the horses into a large circle. “Y-yep, fine! I’m fine!” Chris follows behind you, pulling two horses behind him.

“What are these things?”

“They’re horses.”

“...Horses?” He pauses. 

“You sit on them when you’re drawing on a board,” you motion to another corner, stacked high with oversized clipboards and giant pads of paper. 

Chris sits on one of the horses, legs outstretched and back resting against the piece of wood jutting out of one edge. “Like this?”

“You would think, wouldn’t you? It is kind of shaped like a weird chair. But no,” you straddle the horse, arms held in front of you in a pantomime of drawing. “You put the pad here. That bit keeps it propped up.”

“Ah, horse. I get it.” He flips his body around and copies you.

The bell rings, signaling the end of lunch as the two of you finish setting the last clipboard on the horses. Students begin filtering in, taking their places. They chatter amongst themselves, occasionally looking up curiously at Chris. 

One of your more rowdy students, Dowoon, enters the classroom and yells “Kochi, what are you doing here?”

“Your seonsaengnim said I could join today! So you get to draw me,” he beams. Dowoon runs up to him, and the two begin to mock-box each other. You look on, amused at the spectacle. After a quick bout, Chris gets Dowoon into a headlock and drags him to sit down. He seems to have a comfortable relationship with the students in his class. 

“Ah, you got me this time, kochi, but you better keep your guard up,” Dowoon attempts to look menacing as he pulls a pouch of art supplies from his bag.

The class begins to quiet down, their attention fixed on you. You instruct Chris to sit on the stool you’ve placed in the middle of the classroom. He removes his jacket, revealing a tight black T-shirt that hugs his arms and chest muscles. You swoon internally. He was going to be the perfect model for the class. You set a few spotlights around him, deepening the shadows to define the lines of his body. Chris could do this professionally if he wanted to, you think to yourself. He perches himself in a relaxed pose, and you set the timer.

The students focus well on their tasks. Some draw with charcoal, others with graphite, and some with Conte crayons. Each of them has a style that aligns perfectly with their personalities. For example, Dowoon draws with his whole body, marking the paper with wild strokes of messy charcoal. Sooah, quiet and reserved, makes calculated decisions with the Conte crayon, measuring each of Chris’s features with a thumb and fingertip in front of her eye. You swell with pride at their progress.

As you pace around the room, you occasionally stop to observe a student or two. Every once in a while, you’ll point out a few minor adjustments that could be made to the sketch, but you encourage the teenagers to be as experimental as they’d like. The goal of the exercise isn’t perfection; it’s to better understand each feature's form and function. 

The timer sounds, and you ask Chris to reposition himself. He moves the stool and sets it to the side, opting to stand. He crosses his arms, causing his back and shoulder muscles to protrude slightly. It’s difficult to focus, but you manage. 

After a few rounds of this, the bell rings over the speakers, and the students pack their things. Then, they help the two of you by restacking the horses in the corner before leaving. 

“Have you got any more classes today?” Chris asks you as you finish putting the last drawing into a portfolio. 

“No, I think I might head out.” You straighten up and turn around, not realizing how close to you he’s standing. 

“I’ve only got one more if you want to stick around. Maybe you can help with mine, too.”

You look at his biceps and then down at your own. There is no muscle tone there. You squeeze your arms and grimace. “I don’t know how helpful I’m going to be,” you raise an eyebrow at him, “but I suppose I can try.”

[cecilebutcher]

^^ thank you for letting me use your character I really appreciate it<3

Word count: 1,036

!!Likes do nothing, Reblog instead!!

Summary: two kids meet at an unexpected way (they are like 7-8 in this fic)

Part 1/2

Warning: none

For: @revivemyreverie

Next part

Najih was used to traveling a lot with his mother for her job, but a casino wasn’t somewhere he ever thought he’d go to. Yet there he was, sat alone at a bar, drinking a random mocktale his mother ordered him before disappearing to talk to a client of hers.

It wasn’t that bad in his opinion, the bartender was nice, gave him some snacks from time to time, and some of the costumers found him adorable. But he could also feel people’s stares of confusion, not that he blamed them, a child alone at a casino was not normal. Or he guessed form what he heard people saying.

“Your moms late” he looked up at the bartender, a man who looked to be in his early fourties’, before shrugging “I’m used to being on my own” the man hummed and placed a plate in front of him. It has various nuts and some chocolate. “I can’t give you something too expensive, but nuts and chocolate are fine” Najih nodded and took a bite out of the chocolate -milk chocolate with hazelnuts he guessed-, not his first choice, but he wasn’t complaining.

“Thanks” he mumbled while nibbling on the sweet treat. The bartender smiled at him and ruffled his red wavy hair before walking away to serve another client. Najih sat there alone for a while, just eating his snacks and drinking his beverage. A group of ladies-in their mid to late twenties he guessed- came up to him for a bit to pinched his cheeks and coo at him -one of them gave him some thumaks as well but he couldn’t care less about that- before leaving to go get wasted with some guys.

A bit after they left Najih was done with his snacks and decided to go explore the casino instead of sitting here and waiting for his mother -who, knowing her, was probably hiding and seeing how he handles the situation-. He left the main area and opted to go explore a random hallway he found, the loud sounds of the casino echoing behind him as he looked around the place, admiring the design.

“Hello!” Najih turned around and blinked at the person that spoke “I’m Vegas, you?” “…” he kept silent as the other stared at him with a smile, his dimples showing. He had dark skin, baby blue eyes and black colt hair with some red. “Hello? Earth to stranger?” He blinked a few times and took a step back, wary of the other kid “Are you gonna answer me or not?” “..Najih…” the boy beamed at him and took a step forward “There we go! Now that wasn’t so hard, was it? Are you here with your parents? Where did you come from? Do you wanna play with me?”

Najih frowned slightly at the boys actions, wanting to keep a distance between them, and not liking all the sudden questions. “I’m here with my mom, She’s meeting with a client of hers here” “What does she do?” He tensed up at the question, it was an innocent one, something the normal person wouldn’t bat an eye to. But his mom was an assassin, like him, like his grandparents and all his relatives. The boy, Vegas, continued to stare at him with his Pearl eyes -Najih thought they were pretty- waiting for his response.

“…I’m not sure…” such a small, simple, lie. But it seemed to work, so he took that as it as a win. They stood there in silence for a few moments, just staring at each other. “Ok then, I’m gonna go now” the redhead pointed behind him as he slowly started to walk backwards “my mom is probably worried about me” Vegas frowned and grabbed one of his forearms and tugged at it slightly “Can’t we talk a bit more? You didn’t even answer all my questions”. He asked, annoyance lacing his voice with a hint of sadness and disappointment. “You just got here..” he tugged again at the others sleeve, a bit harder this time.

“I’ve been here for two hours, I wanna go home!” He pulled his arm away and started walking back from where he came from. He could still feel the others eyes boring into him, signifying his annoyance and disappointment.

“Najih” came a voice from his front, causing him to stop dead in his track. He gulped and raised his eyes to the person, to find a figure of a tall lady with slicked back red hair wearing an elegant black dress. Her heels clicked as she walked towards the two, before completely disregarding him and walking towards the other boy. She knelt to his eye level and smiled sweetly -Najih had to hold in a frown at the fake display of sweetness- “I’m sorry about my son, he’s a bit shy” she told the boy, her voice as sweet as poisoned honey.

“My name is Layla Al-Amin, I’m a close friend of your parents, I’ll be working at the casino for a bit and bringing Najih with me. I do hope you two will get along well”. Vegas smiled back at her and nodded “we do have to leave now though, But you two can play all you want tomorrow” “Really?!” The boy beamed at her words, excitement painting his face. Layla let out a small giggle at the boy and nodded “Really” she got up and lightly dusted her dress ��Say goodbye to your friend child, we’re leaving”

Najih nodded before gave a small wave to the blue eyed boy “bye”. Vegas waved back at him as Najih started to turn around to follow his mother “Bye! See you tomorrow”. Najih waited a bit as the boy ran back down the hall before hurrying after his mother, making sure to keep up with her as to not as to not fall behind. “Befriend him” he glanced up at his mother, her face and voice back to their monotone default, all the honey and sweetness gone “his parents are extremely important” he nodded at her before glancing back one last time at where the boy was.

He hopped he could continue to be his friend after the job is over.

Thank you again to @revivemyreverie for letting me use Vegas in this<3.

I have been trying to figure out what to write for this for way too fucking long😭

!!requests are open!!

comments are more than appreciated. but reblogs help the content reach more people so please reblog if you want to like<3 likes do nothing. Seriously, don’t like, reblog.

[hanjisungsorangehair]

Alone (Jeongchan)

TW- Mentions of Domestic Abuse

'I hate you, I wish that you were never alive', Jeongin's mom yelled.

His heart shattered to a million pieces inside, but he just stared blankly into her eyes, like he didn't care.

'I never wanted to live, I never asked you to give birth to me!' he said coldly.

His mom scoffed at him, 'You are the most disgusting shit I've ever seen. If I were you I'd just kill myself.'

At that moment something inside him snapped, he smiled.

'You psycho! Why are you smiling, you crazy freak? you're just like your fucking father, it's all because of you that I had to keep that asshole in my life!'

Jeongin got up and smashed a mirror into the floor.

'You are the one who slept with that man! You are the psycho!'

His mom slapped him.

He wasn't able to control himself anymore, he started laughing. He could taste the blood in his mouth, and the blood leaking its way down his nose. It was all overwhelmingly funny- how pathetic his life was, how much his parents had beat him, and how things never changed.

'Get out! I never want to see you again'

And don't worry she scoffed, 'I'll keep sending you the gallons of money you've been using to get high, I hope it kills you one day'

He chuckled, wiping the blood away.

'I really hope that it does'

And he left, promising to never return to his mother's house. Again. But he always returned, desperate for love, which he would never get.

Before he knew it, Jeongin was in another bar drinking away and dancing with random girls. It was the only way he knew how to handle pain. He was used to being abandoned by everyone who was supposed to care for him, and here all people wanted to do was love him, even if it was just a superficial love, even if it was just for his money. And he didn't want to fall in love, honestly. Because any other kind of love he ever received was too painful, and at least in his life, that was the only kind of love that existed. His divorced parents always spoiled him with money, but that was all they could do to keep him away. And although he didn't want to admit it, getting drunk and waking up in another random girl's bedroom the next morning, was the only way he could combat that very scary loneliness.

And there was never a girl he couldn't get, and of course he never felt fulfilled by any of his ill fated relationships. He just used them to be able to feel something.

A tall mediocre girl approached him, 'Hi'

'Hello' he said, breaking out a bright dimpled smile.

'You having fun?'

'You bet'

She walked closer to him, such that their noses were almost touching. 'You want me?', she whispered.

IN smiled.

She pulled him into a kiss which he forced himself to return.

'Come on' she pulled him let's go to a room, 'somewhere more private', she smiled.

'I'm sorry' he said, 'I'm not really in the mood' not really drunk enough to agree to it.

She pressed herself into a kiss, this time aggressively.

He just returned it without thought.

After 5 minutes of making out, which would have soon turned into something else, a rough hand grabbed him and pulled him away from the kiss.

'WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?!!?!!'

He looked at the girl- 'Is this man trying to hurt you? Baby.. Just say the words, I'll keep you safe'.

The buff pale man glared at Jeongin. He could feel the sheer hatred flaring in his eyes, and it was directed solely at him. It wasn't anything he wasn't used to, but he could also see something different in his eyes, something new. Something he'd never seen before in his life. He could see love. This man really cared about this woman, and Jeongin had never seen that in someone. He looked like he'd protect everyone in his life, with everything he'd got, even if it meant that he'd have to sacrifice himself. Jeongin could see everything in this man's eyes. Unknowingly, he felt a pull, a curiosity to know what made this man so different from anybody he had ever seen.

Of course at that exact moment, he was also very concerned for himself because even though this man was shorter than him, he could easily overpower him. Well, Jeongin was not bad either. He didn't need to worry...

'Whatever, Chan, please just leave' she glowered, and walked away.

Jeongin could see the disappointment in his eyes, when Chan realised what was actually happening.

It felt funny to see that look on someone else's face. He pushed Chan's hand away and smirked as he walked, feeling the pathetic man's eyes follow him out.

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

'I hate you Chan! Stop being so nice to me! I don't get it, why are you always trying to help? Can't you see, I'm trying to get rid of you!' yelled his girlfriend.

'I.. I understand you're having a hard time, but I'm here for you, I understand there must be a reason. And, it really hurt my feelings, but why.. why did you do this?'

'Because Chan, you make me feel disgusting! You are so good that I can't even stand being next to you! You make me look down on myself! And you don't need me, ever. You never trust me with anything, and I just feel like you're just forcing yourself to be with me, I feel unwanted, and unloved because you keep trying so damn hard.'

'That's not true..'

'Please leave, I never want to see you ever again.'

'Baby..'

'Get the fuck out'

'I always felt you were a really good person, and I still think you are- And I could try harder! I really think this time we could work it-'

'Whatever' she said her eyes filling with tears, and she slammed the door shut on his face.

Chan knew it too, this wasn't going to work out, he knew that she never really wanted to be with him, and she kept cheating on him.

Chan walked out of the building she lived in, he glanced up at the sky, it was cloudy and grey, and the air smelled thickly of pollution and motor oil. He sighed and sat down heavily on the pavement. 

Why did his life... suck so much? Why was it that everyone in his life always left him? Why did nobody ever want him, even if he tried so hard to give them love? Why was he always so lonely, even though he always surrounded himself with people? Why was he never enough? Why was it that at the end of the day, he always felt worthless and useless?

He cried and cried and cried until the world around was nothing but a blur for colours.

That's when he was harshly tossed to the ground by a tall boy, 'You're in my way' he muttered and pushed past him. The boy didn't realise it was Chan, but Chan immediately recognised this boy from the bar earlier. He was wearing the same black T-shirt, with a heavy metal band printed onto it, with ripped jeans that revealed his pale skin.

'You-' he got up and grabbed his arm.

The boy looked up from the ground to meet his eyes, his eyes widened, which was soon replaced with a solemn calm look, which Chan could see right through.

He sighed. 'She came up to you didn't she?'

'I don't think that's any of your business old man.'

'I guess she did', he let go of the boy's arm.

The boy looked at the man, and for a second, Chan could see the boy's face grow softer, which further convinced him- this boy was just like him. Abandoned. Lost. Lonely.

'I'm sorry' the boy said, before his face changed back.

He started to walk away.

'Wait-' Chan called him.

'What?'

'Let's grab some coffee together'

'..'

'.....'

'You're really strange you know that? You're girlfriend cheated on you with me. You should be hating me, not offering to grab coffee, besides, I'm not the kind you should be around.'

'You're right, but I don't think you're the kind who would mind, considering the people you seem to be hanging out with.'

'And what kind is that?'

'Not your kind.'

The boy turned around, and raised an eyebrow.

'And how would you know that?'

'Because I can see it in your eyes'

'That's dumb.'

'It is', he agreed. 'So... you want to have that coffee?'

The boy sighed, 'I'm warning you, I'm not safe to be around. You should stay away.'

'I'll take the chance' the man with the jet black hair smiled.

'You're really strange'

'What's your name by the way?'

'Jeongin'

'I'm  Bang Chan'

'Lead the way- Bang Chan' 

Jeongin smiled. Genuinely, for what felt like the first time in his life. He didn't know it yet, but it definitely wouldn't be the last.

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[hxt1b]

Know Your Type

Jaehyun x Reader 

Requested Prompt 21 "you want me to go out with him" 

Genre: Angst, College AU

Warning: Swearing, Smut 

WC: 2.3k

Masterlist 

Prompt List, for any requests you guys may have. I'm currently taking them again!

A/N: I apologize for the grammatical issues I did read it over but some things may have still slipped through. 

I hope you guys like this, please let me know what you think! Feedback is appreciated. 

"I know what type of guys you like." Jaehyun boasted. You scoffed at him, he most definitely did not. 

"Fine then point at a guy you want me to go out with. Since you know my type so well. If you guess right I'll ask him out." You challenged. It wasn't that Jaehyun didn't know you. He did, he just didn't know who you liked because you couldn't look at him and tell him it was, in fact, him. 

Too many thoughts would go through your head every time you thought about telling him. The fact that he could reject you and then you'd lose a friend was terrifying to you. So you stayed quiet. 

"Him," Jaehyun said and pointed at a boy across the room, he was tucked into the corner an unlit cigarette hanging from his lips as he tapped away at his phone. 

You knew him, Lucas was a great guy. A great guy with a girlfriend. 

"You want me to go out with him?"  You couldn't help but laugh, your shoulder bumped into his as you did. 

"He has a girlfriend." You said, "Plus he's not the guy I like." Jaehyun froze next to you. 

"You like someone?" 

Suddenly the couch you were sitting on wasn't big enough for the two of you. You didn't realize you'd said that, he'd just been trying to demonstrate your type. 

"No." 

"But you said you did." 

You couldn't reply to that. So you just stared at him as his face lit up. 

"Tell me who." He said his face getting closer to yours. 

"No." You deadpanned, and he frowned. 

"I bet you I can get you to tell if you have enough shots." You narrowed your eyes at his challenge again. Before you let him know that it was game on. 

This was how you and Jaehyun worked. Playful bets placed practically all the time, every little aspect of life was a game, and honestly, you liked it that way. You liked the way he laughed when he won, the dimply smiles that would adorn his face for the rest of the day. You liked the way he pouted when he lost, the complaining that would ensue was also something you wouldn't change. You liked the way he answered your phone and if he missed the call he called back within seconds. You liked that he called you randomly sometimes, a random 'I bet…' followed by something insane would leave his mouth and you'd always play into it. You liked him, everything about him and you loved your friendship. It was hard but you wouldn't ever tell him you liked him. Because you couldn't give him up. 

Jaehyun and you sat in a random room in the house, a huge bottle of vodka in-between you. The bottle was once full, you'd and Jaehyun had drank a considerable amount. 

"So Y/N, who do you like?" Jaehyun asked his words slightly slurred, the effects of the alcohol in full force. You stared at him, taking in the lift of his mouth as he smirked at you, the way his left dimple appeared as he did so. 

You unconsciously were leaning into him. 

"And if I tell you what do I get?" You asked your hand digging into the carpet in between you as your weight settled onto it. 

Jaehyun lowered his head to yours so that his nose was almost brushing yours. 

"You get to know that your best friend in the whole wide world will wingman you." 

"And what if that meant you'd be wing manning me for yourself?" You asked, your voice soft as the words left you. 

Jaehyun looked at you slowly registering the words that left you. Anxiety rolled in your stomach as you watched him blink at you. 

Fuck.

Fuck. 

Fuck. 

You knew you shouldn't have told him. 

Jaehyun cleared his throat as leaned away from him. 

"You like me?" He asked, you turned your head away from him. Suddenly all the alcohol in your system was gone. You slowly nodded, not being able to look back at him. 

He cleared his throat again, the silence was drowning you as the discomfort in the room grew. Eventually, Jaehyun pulled his phone out of his pocket. Tapping at his screen a few times as he got up. 

"So I- I just got a text from Jungwoo he needs me." You closed your eyes. 

Fuck vodka. 

"I'll see you tomorrow." 

But you didn't.

You didn't see him for a week. The first day you left him alone, the second day you thought maybe something had happened considering Jungwoo had called him that night. So you texted him, he didn't reply. You texted him again only to be left on read. The third day you tried calling him, that failed as well. You very quickly realized he was ignoring you. 

He came into your shared class on Wednesday followed by Jungwoo, and they sat with you. But Jungwoo sat in the middle and Jaehyun left halfway through the class. You didn't try after that, you didn't know how. 

Your head hurt that day because you couldn't help but cry. You knew you were right not to tell him, you knew you were right about the fact that the moment you told him you'd lose him. 

The opening of your apartment door drew you from your thoughts. Doyoung walked in holding a bag of takeout in his hand. 

"You look like shit." He said as his eyes swept over you. You laughed at his words. 

"Thanks." 

Doyoung set the takeout on the coffee table before heading into your kitchen to grab cutlery. 

"He ignored me in class on Wednesday." You said as you looked down at your hands. Your eyes stinging again. 

"You'd think that he would know how to act like an adult. If he doesn't like you back he doesn't have to cut you off." 

You nodded, but he had. Because that was how Jaehyun was. 

"Every girl I become friends with always ruins it by falling in love with me," Jaehyun grumbled as he sat across from you. 

"Humble." You muttered. 

"I'm not joking like I don't mean it as a prick. I just mean I want someone I can be friends with, without them wanting to suck my dick." You looked at him your eyebrows raising. 

Eventually, you rolled your eyes, a chuckle leaving you. "You want a girl to not want you for sex. How ironic."  

"Listen I sleep with girls," He started. 

"A lot go girls," You interjected  

"But I don't pretend to be their friend." He finished. 

"Such a saint you are Jaehyun." 

You weren't close back then, you grew close though over the year since then. To the point that you were inseparable. Until now. 

"Whatever forget him, let's drown in food," Doyoung said, he didn't make it to the couch before the apartment door was opening again. 

Only two people besides you had a key, one of them was already in the apartment. 

You stared at Jaehyun as he looked at Doyoung. 

"Oh, you're here." He said. 

"Yes, I'm here," Doyoung replied. 

"Sorry, I shouldn't have just shown up I guess." He said and retreated out of the apartment. You stared at Doyoung, who let out a loud sigh. 

"Okay fine, go after him. I'm going to start eating though." You nodded as you shot out of your spot on the couch. 

Slipping into a pair of flip flips you charged out the door. The elevator closed as you rounded the corner. So you settled for the stairs. 

You looked crazy, you knew you did. You were wearing an oversized t-shirt with stains on it, you weren't wearing any pants you just had on your underwear. Your eyes were swollen from the crying earlier, and your hair was up in a messy bun. Well, half of it was. 

You stopped to breathe as you hit the main floor, your throat hurting from your lack of air. Somewhere in your brain, you were looking at yourself wondering what the fuck you were doing. But at the forefront of your mind was Jaehyun. 

You pushed out the doors seeing him walking to his car. 

"Hey!" You called running down the few steps as he stopped right beside his car. 

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" You asked loudly, as you charged towards him. 

"I-" You cut him off before he could even truly start. 

"No actually, fuck you. You ignored me for a week. Then you chose to show up without a text, let alone a call. So what I told you I liked you and that's it? You forced me to tell you!"  

You were frantic, and angry and needed to yell at him because if you weren't yelling you would cry. You didn't even care if the people sitting in their apartments heard the commotion and looked out. 

Jaehyun stood silently in front of you fiddling with his keys. 

"Am I really that awful, that if I did like you the only option you'd have is; run away?" You asked, finally letting your voice quiet down as your confidence faded. Your brain being hit with the fact that he may have come to grab his things. The few things he'd left around your apartment. Like his hoodie, his many pairs of socks, the t-shirt you were in right now. 

"No," He finally answered. His eyes finally coming up to your face. 

"Then why have you been ignoring me?" You asked, your eyes stinging again as you tried not to cry. 

Jaehyun took a step towards you, grabbing your arm and pulling you into him. You let him. 

"I had to think. I needed to think about what you said." He said, his head resting on top of yours. You thought about pushing him away. You thought about storming back into your apartment and leaving him here, but you wanted to be in his arms you couldn't push away. So instead you grabbed his t-shirt tightly and pulled him closer to you. 

"I like you too, Y/N." He spoke softly, "I was just shocked when you said it to me at the party. I didn't know how to react so I ran. I'm so sorry for ignoring you. I know I'm a dick. I know I'll have to make it up to you and I will." 

"You were shocked so you decided that not talking to me was the way to go?" You asked, your voice muffled into his chest. 

"I never said I was smart." He said making you softly giggle. 

"You like me?" You asked turning your head up and looking at him. He nodded down at you. 

"Yes." 

Maybe you were too quick to give in, maybe you weren't. All you knew was that a week's worth of trouble boiled down to a few words and you weren't willing to draw it out any longer. You could talk about it more later if you wanted to right now you just wanted him to hold you. You hadn't seen him for a week and you hated it. 

He pressed his lips to yours gently, cautiously. But you quickly deepened the kiss, letting your tongue move across his bottom lip before letting him push his tongue against yours. 

You moaned softly against him, your arms snaking around his neck as you pulled him closer to you. Jaehyun hit the side of the car as you two continued to kiss, his hands moving to your ass and pulling you flush against him. You could feel him hardening between you both. Your hips moving on their own grinding against him. 

His lips left your mouth leaving hot kisses down the side of your jaw. 

"It's cold." You whined as the cold air hit the trail of saliva he was leaving in his wake. Pulling his face away from you he unlocked his car. 

"Doy-" 

"He can wait." He said as he pulled open the back door and ushered you in. He scrambled in after you pulling you onto his lap as he did so. 

"Fuck your so hot." He said. You giggled down at him. 

"I'm in a stained t-shirt." You said as Jaehyun's hands crawled underneath it finding your boobs. You moaned when his cold fingers pinched at your nipples. 

Your hands went to his crotch, palming him through his sweats drawing soft grunts from him. You looked up at his face as he moved his hands to your face bringing your mouth back down to his. 

You pulled his erection out of his sweats bringing him to your clothed core and rubbing the head of his cock against yourself. Jaehyun hissed at your actions, his hand moving to the nape of your neck. 

Jaehyun's other hand moved towards your core, pushing your underwear aside so that he could feel you on his cock. He bucked his hips up towards you. You moaned against him as he began to move between your folds coating his cock in your slick. 

The tip of his dick hitting your clit with every move he made. Your mouth moved away from his, panting you looked down at where he was moving against you. 

"Fuck." You muttered. Your head spinning with each of his movements. 

A loud knocking on his car window scared you, your hands pulling Jaehyun to you as you both look out the car window. 

Doyoung was staring down at you both. 

"I'm going home." He said loud enough for you both to hear. "You two can move upstairs." 

You laughed down at Jaehyun as Doyoung walked away. 

"Were you going to leave after you fucked me?" You asked as you moved off him. Your brain going back to thinking in overdrive. Jaehyun grabbed your wrist pulling your hand to him and forcing you to look at him. His cock tucked away now. 

"I'm sorry I ignored you. I do not plan on doing it again. I swear." You nodded at him and got out of the car, waiting for him to follow you. 

"So you know what type of guys I like huh?" You asked as he used his key to get into your building. 

"Yeah babe, you like douche bags." He said and smiled down at you, dimples and all. You bit the corner of your lip to try to not laugh. Yet you laughed anyway. 

[doeilovr]

[02:14]

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“Is my baby sleepy”, Jaehyun whispered, stroking your back lovingly.

“No, just comfy”, you mumbled, moving your head that was resting against his chest. Jaehyun only chuckled at your answer, both of you going back to watching the show he had put on.

You could have sworn you only blinked, but suddenly a loud thunder awoke you from your sleep. You blinked your eyes open, slowly coming back to your senses.

Your eyes roamed around the room, noticing the TV that was still on and playing a random episode of Jaehyun’s show.

Speaking of Jaehyun, you lifted your head carefully, searching for Jaehyun’s eyes and found him also asleep. Both of you were still cuddled together on the sofa, his arm around you, holding you close to him.

You didn’t dare to move, as he looked just absolutely dreamy right now. His chest falling and raising softly, his eyelids fluttering slightly - god how lucky you were to be here with him.

Another loud thunder interrupted your thoughts and suddenly you found yourself staring right into Jaehyun’s eyes. He smiled gently. “Hey.”

“Hey yourself”, you whispered with a smile. “I didn’t want to wake you up.”

Jaehyun raised his eyebrows, “what?” He shifted in his position, arm always wrapped around you. “You didn’t want to wake me up? I didn’t want to wake you up!”

You moved your hands up to his chest so you could rest your chin on your hand. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that I really badly wanted to go to bed, but I didn’t want to wake you up, you looked so cute when you were sleeping”, Jaehyun explained.

“Jaehyunie”, you cooed, dragging out his name. “You’re too sweet.”

Jaehyun smiled shyly, his dimples popping out. “But now that you’re awake, can we please go to bed. I can’t feel my arm anymore”, he chuckled.

You snorted, getting up from your position to let Jaehyun breathe for a moment. “Sorry, sure.” You turned to look at the TV, wanting to turn it off.

“What”, you gasped, “it’s 2 a.m? I slept for a whole three hours?”

Jaehyun got up from the sofa, turning the TV off for you. “Well, at least you slept comfortably.”

You almost felt guilty, having slept for so long, while Jaehyun suffered. “I’m sorry”, you pouted, shoulders dropping.

Jaheyun was quick to sit down next to you. “No, baby. It’s all good. I had you in my arms, my fave show was on. Actually, the evening was pretty nice.”

“You’re just saying that.”

“Definitely not”, Jaehyun raised his eyebrows, holding up his hands in defense. “I could have stayed like this for hours. If it’s with you.”

You smiled, leaning your head on his shoulder. “I don’t deserve you.”

“You do. Now come on”, he clapped his hands together, “I want to sleep in a real bed.”

You nodded, getting up and taking Jaehyun’s hand he’s been extending to you. Gently he intertwined his fingers with yours, his eyes ever so slightly sparkling as they took in all of your beauty.

“Love you”, he whispered, so only you could hear it, despite being the only ones in the apartment.

“I love you more”, you whispered back, unable to hold back a smile.

Satisfied, Jaehyun pulled you closer to him, before you walked down the hallway to the bedroom together.

“What I said earlier”, Jaehyun chuckled, “I could have stayed like that yes, but with my arm somewhere more comfortable.”

You snickered, scratching your head. “I know.”

“Also, the show wasn’t really my favorite. It was actually kind of scary, but I couldn’t move or else I would have startled you.”

Now you were full on laughing, playfully slapping your boyfriend’s arm. “Next time just wake me up, it’s no big deal, Jaehyunie.”

“Yeah maybe”, Jaehyun shrugged, not turning around but still walking down the hallway. “You missed a whole thunderstorm too. It’s only raining now, but you should have been awake an hour ago. It was bad”, he turned his head now, eyes wide and hands moving around wildly.

You watched him with a smile, opening the bedroom door and waiting for Jaehyun to go inside. “If you tapped my shoulder or something”, you shrugged, “we could already be lying in bed.”

“Maybe”, Jaehyun grimaced, throwing himself onto the soft bed.

“Maybe.”

And with that you disappeared into the bedroom, the door slowly falling shut behind you. The rain still falling outside.

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a/n: hello and enjoy! I tried something more simple this time.. something I hope you can imagine well :3

[all-things-fic]

Somewhere Only We Know

A/N - Hello, you lovely lot! Hope you are all keeping well in these utterly shit Covid times. Who would’ve thought that we would still be here in December?! Please see my offering for @goldenbluesuit​‘s Christmas Fic Challenge. Hope I’ve done a bit of justice with this piece.

I can remember Katie texting me telling me about the challenge, and I’ll admit I was given first dibs and now I’m absolutely shitting myself because I’ve seen all the brillaint entries so far and I’m not sure I really cut the mustard with this piece but I’m proud of myself for being able to put a solid 70% of this together in just one day (that one day being today).

Anyway, I hope you enjoy! Katie has done a brilliant job and I know how grateful she is towards anyone who has joined the challenge or supported by reading/sharing etc.... I need to stop rambling... Okay, thank you for sticking with me as always and happy reading! .x

***

The last thing you remembered actually reading in the group chat was “make sure you have your wellies”. You were glad that you remembered that part at the very least.

Winds whipped around you as you buried your face further into your cream roll neck cable knit jumper, all but hidden underneath your tobacco borg teddy coat that someone had already likened to Macklemore.

Nothing like being back home with your closest and oldest friends.

Mud squelched under your feet as you walked in line with two of your oldest girl friends, eyes looking over the four males in front of you as they led the way over the grassy hills.

There had been zero planning on what today’s events would bring. It was quite clear that the seven of you just wanted to be reunited with the country air and wind bitten cheeks.

It was nice. How simple it was. On the surface at the very least. That was until you zoned in on the little things. 

Like his laugh. The same laugh that always carried somehow and it seemed like the wind was making it that much more prominent than usual today.

There was no denying, he had this glow about him. Even from the back of him. You felt silly for thinking it, but it was true. It was in the way he held himself as he attacked the grassy hills with his feet clad wellies and brown trousers.

Life had changed a lot in over a decade. Christ, had it been that long? You’d all gone from baby teenagers to fully fledged adults. The age range of your friendship differing slightly, the odd person here and there slightly older than a couple of people in the group.

Nonetheless, many of the experiences had been the same. The big job offers, and the even bigger promotions. The heartbreaks, regardless of their prominence or lack of, had been the felt the same. The flirtation between some of you sparked probably a bit more so now with a finesse that didn’t have you rolling your eyes but rather leaning into it. 

Four out of seven of you were single. Jack and Jonny were virtually married off, however neither of them were with their partners this year with both deciding to spend Christmas at home and New Years with their significant others. Alice was still loved up and going strong with her fella, as was Grace who you hadn’t heard a peep from as she constantly checked her phone to see when the person she was besotted with finally arrived up North thanks to West Midlands Trains pulling into Crewe. 

So that left Will, you and Harry. Harry who had  quite publicly made it known that he was single. Well, according to your Mum he had, in several interviews. Including the one that she had described as an ‘incredibly relaxing watch and nice background noise to my Sunday evening brew and ironing session’. 

That was a strange one for you, his honesty. In earlier years of friendship, he always seemed quite aloof. Like he was keeping his options open. Guarded in a way that frustrated at least 75% of the friendship group, in the nicest way possible. You knew that was a contradiction but any annoyance came from a good place. 

You remembered one night in 2014 when he wouldn’t quite give you a straight answer over tequila shots whether he was shagging someone or not. You also remember the way he’d been pulled away from you tactfully by Alice that night when she sensed how you were about to blow up at his lackadaisical attitude. 

The same had been felt in 2016. Not so much in 2018, but you weren’t single then so maybe you just didn’t care. 

2019 was significantly different though.

See the thing was, you knew him now. Like, knew knew him. 

Some would think it was a lapse of judgment, a reading that you would agree upon given what had happened two days prior if ever prodded about it publicly.

Others would vehemently disagree. Stating how long any sort of energy between the two of you had been bubbling for a number of years. 

Looking back you couldn’t even understand why you’d attended his show. You lived in Camden and it made sense, but that’s where the sense stopped. Even the ways he had reached out had been one of the most random messages you’d received from him

There was no context, just a simple ‘I’m playing the Electric Ballroom and there’s tickets waiting for you if you want ‘em.’

And the thing was, you loved that venue. The grungy-ness of it all. The way you had stuck to the floor while trying to dance along to the likes of The Hives and Kings of Leon when seeing them playing there, basking in your sweaty happiness. 

But the stickiness of the floor and sweatiness of the room didn’t compare to the stickiness and sweatiness you later found yourself partaking in as Harry took you from behind over the side of his couch. 

A shiver rolled through you at the thought, one that you would blame on the December bitter chill because it was a secret. One that neither of you had mentioned since it happened on Thursday night, or to be technically correct the early hours of Friday morning. 

He’d been good. Of course he had been.

He had that way about him that night that pulled you under a false sense of endeared security. From his dimpled smile to gleaming eyes. He was happy. 

And the way he had shone as he found you on the balcony had warmed you like nothing you had known in the longest time.

It caused you to forget about the worry that had laden you limbs as you turned up at 9.13pm to the wooden doors of the building, wondering how many songs he was in to the set as you convinced yourself he would start at 9.00pm.

As you’d been ushered over to a clear box window and uttered your name to a dorky looking man wearing a tracksuit pull over and watched him handover a white envelope through the circle hatch. 

You stood in the dark, next to two much younger girls who enjoyed the way his glances lingered over at their side. Eyes had found Gemma in the opposite corner of the balcony, her dancing and singing with some recognisable faces mainly more so because you had seen them on social media.

You, however, kept yourself to yourself. Until you were anchored in the tightest hug from Gemma that you had ever felt from her and swayed from side to side as she made it known how pleased she was to see you once the concert was over. 

That familiarity had been nice. The vibrancy of nostalgia consuming you in your entirety. 

Watching him work a room when he finally entered the after party was a sight to behold, in his navy blue pinstripe suit and yellow ‘I’m gonna die lonely’ t-shirt. 

He wasn’t. Gonna die lonely, that is. 

He glided so smoothly from one person to the next, spilling a drink down himself in the process you’d seen (and later felt when your hand clung to the fabric of his t-shirt as you kissed), making time for everyone in his own unique way.

Big eyes followed you over Gemma’s shoulder when he had finally found himself within your circle and hugged his sister once more that evening. They were hard to read but also openly filled with a glimmer of hope as he dropped his gaze to see what you were wearing.

And when he approached you, he hugged you in a way that managed to pull you into the darkened corner of the dingy space. Spinning your body to keep your face concealed from any prying eyes. 

He revealed to you how he didn’t think you were going to turn up, scanning you with his gaze as he spoke. You did the same, a bit taken aback by just how attractive you were finding him. He had always been handsome but the aura he gave off, made your fingers itch to have him closer to you. 

Words ran away from you that night as he begged and pleaded with you to tell him what your favourite song had been. Based on first impressions, which the show has been, then Canyon Moon and Watermelon Sugar had smothered you and given you no other option but to pick them.

If he were to ask you now you’d probably say To Be So Lonely, thanks to the drive home being longer than originally thought and said album being your choice of road trip music. 

Forget Driving Home For Christmas, nothing slapped more than one of your closest friends admitting to being an arrogant son of a bitch. 

After your chat, he mingled some more but Harry was always tactile and that night had been no different. He veered conversations with people you had never seen before to take place by the zone that you all occupied.

He actively kept his back against yours, allowing the faintest of touches and brushing of arms - sometimes hands too if he dropped them down heavily enough with his arms as he spoke - to entice and create a spark. 

You were kept late enough to miss the last tube. Battery dangerously low on your phone that you didn’t know if a transaction with Uber would be worth a try. 

Jumping into the same car as him had been easy. His soft and tired eyes findings yours in the cab as he leant his head back against the headrest in the back seat and let his lips tip upwards in an expression of tenderness that had you melting in your seat. 

“‘S been a while since we’ve both been a bit pissed in the back of a taxi,” he mused, pushing his fallen locks out of his eyes to ensure his view of you wasn’t obscured. “Come an’ cuddle me like you used to do when we went out a’ home and were worse for wear.”

Falling into his side was almost second nature, eyes closing as you let your forehead rest against his jawline and let his worn in cologne fill you senses and scatter your judgment.

You don’t even remember how you ended up kissing that night. A mixture of confessions about missing each other and praise of how good you both were in your own ways. The sound of his whispered, “are you coming home wi’me?” against your lips an offer too good for you to refuse as you sat pressed into his side and half in his lap. 

The giggles that night, around dramatic shushes as you tripped and shuffled from the car to his front door were almost haunting in your memory as he tried to chastise you around spluttered laughter about being respectful of his neighbours. 

Getting the key in the lock proved unchallenging -  one of the better analogies aligned to your memories and latter sexual endeavours - as you slipped into the house. He enjoyed watching the way you walked ahead of him into his home, not realising how much he needed that visual of seeing how well you fit in. 

While time seemed to slow in that moment, movements desperately sought the opposite. Hands gripped and clawed like their lives depended upon it. 

Looking back now, both he and you wished it hadn’t happened the way it did. Skirt lifted and over the side of his couch. Teeth clashing and hips knocking.

It had been every inch a drunken fumble. A first meeting slightly cheapened but wanted nonetheless. Only made even cheaper by the hush-hush concealing of it ever occurring. 

But a secret it was and a secret it would remain. 

And oh how you wished you had a pillow you could press you face into right now and scream, this time for an entirely different reason. Unlike that night. 

“Not seen a sign of any deer yet, mate,” you heard a voice break you out of your indulgence of recollecting past events. Harry was the worst at wanting to get a reaction. 

“Christ, have a bit of patience would yer?”

You smiled at the bickering, just like it always was as the River Dane could be heard in the distance somewhere as you walked. If you listened really close, that is. 

Lifting your eyes, your smile lingered as you watched Harry spin his body around and let his hands get lost in the massive pockets of his parka. He walked backwards holding your gaze softly with his eyes twinkling before he gently rolled them at the overreaction and impatience of your friends.

He seemed pleased that you’d enjoyed his teasing as you once again hid you smile into your jumper. 

You’d be alright.

***

You heard giggles and screams ahead of you as your friends stumbled in the dark and messed about as you got closer to the viaduct. This place or the people didn’t change, and at times while it filled you with a warm nostalgia, it could be heavily jarring.

A soft and lazy smile pulled at your lips as you felt his heavy forearm lightly tug you closer to him, his lips finding your hair. And then there was Harry. 

“Think we should go this way m’self,” Harry mumbled, the nudge of his hips against yours had you stumbling slightly in your heels away from the direction of your friends and somewhere completely different. 

“And why’s that?” You turned your face slightly, cheeks warm and flushed thanks to the mixture of alcoholic beverages; eyes glazed as they lifted up to look at him. 

“Cause you never would’ve let me when I was sixteen,” he admitted. 

“You didn’t ask.”

“‘M askin’ now.” 

With slow blinking eyes, you looked at his own unfocused vision. A soft shine to his skin, hair blowing gently against his forehead. The softest of smiles tilted at your lips.  

“On yer go,” he nudged you forward, this time more so with his crotch and his hands, which wrapped around your hips to help steer you. Harry was met with only a small amount of resistance from you as you split off from your friends and turned in the different direction. 

You bit back your laugh, dropping your head slightly as you felt your heels started to sink into the grass as you walked. Harry was level with you when you sunk down noticing the way you legs slightly gave way, a soft chuckle omitting from his throat as he asked, “You alrigh’?”

“I’m sinking in these bloody things,” you grumbled, pulling your heel from the grass and trying to place the sole of your shoe onto the ground beneath you first. 

“So much for no’ being able to take the country out o’ the girl. London’s changed yer, swear it.”

Shaking your head, you cut your eyes to give him a harsh stare for his wind up. His amused expression lit a fire in you like no other. He really wasn’t one to talk though, was he? 

“Gi’me your hand ‘ere,” he held his out to you, quickly cupping it when you handed it over and pulled it under his bent elbow. “Remind me again who’s idea this was, eh?��

He didn’t need reminding, he had been one of the keen instigators for the whole jaunt down Twemlow Viaduct. It usually was him, or Jack. The two of them often reminiscing on times they had both raided their parents' alcohol cupboards and managed to sneak out with some dusty bottle that held a liquor that tasted out of date and stale, and if not that then, cheap. 

“‘S still fucking freezing down ‘ere, in’it?” He asked, lifting his left hand up to his mouth and blowing against it to try and get some feeling back into his fingers.

“We’re so close to the river, I don’t know why you’d expect anything different?”

“Is this why everyone was always so insistent on necking anything with over 11% alcohol in it when we came down ‘ere as kids?”

“Probably,” you softly laughed. 

“‘S a bit different now though innit?”

“Oh, I’m not so sure,” you started to correct him, shrugging your hand out from under his elbow and reaching for your bag. Quickly fumbling with the clasp, you lifted up the quilted flap and managed to pull out the stainless steel hip flask.

Harry cackled a harsh laugh, his eyes crinkling as he slowly let his laughter die down and softly let his joy wash over his features. “Impressive. Gone all proper on me.”

“You know I haven’t,” you held his eyes watching as he nervously cupped at the back of his neck for a short while, a gentle bite down of his bottom lip, as you quickly uncapped the item and held it out to him. He looked like he needed the courage.  You continued, “We’re just a bit more refined, that and we earn a good living. Some more than others, and by some I mean you.” 

He held his hand up towards you with an amused grin at your comment. “You first, ‘s yours after all.” 

Lifting the item and knocking back your head, you swallowed the whiskey with a small grimace, before offering it to Harry once more. This time he accepted, his right hand making light work of taking the item from your hands and sipping at the contents.

His face wasn’t as contorted as your’s when he swallowed, a fan of the chosen beverage if needs must. “‘S the proper stuff, tha’ is,” he commented with a quick lick of his lips before continuing, “Come a long way from sneaking the bottles of dusty Blossom Hill from the back of the cupboard.”

“Don’t know about that,” you smiled, taking the item and pushing it back into your bag. “I’d still drink if, if it were on offer.”

“‘M sure Mum’s got a bottle or two going at home?”

“Is that your way of asking me to go home with you?” You paused. “Again.”

Harry remained silent at your words. Both you and he knew it was going to happen. A mixture of sparks and lovelorn, lingering glances was enough to make anyone both want to give up, while also giving a burning confidence usually unknown. 

Neither of you expected it would be you who started the conversation, however. 

“It is, ‘f it’s gonna work. ‘M not sure I could wait any longer t’be’onest wi’yer.“

Laughing, you reached up to push at his shoulder. He always knew exactly what to say, but no way was he going to make a laughing stock of the whole thing. “Oh, give over,” you spoke, harshly swallowing when he kept your hand against the thick cable knit black jumper he had on. “You’ve made it this far, thus far just fine.” 

“‘M not playin’,” he whispered, hand gently curling around your own and lifting it up to press against his face. His cheeks were warm underneath the cooler hands, despite the cold night whipping around you both and your mind quickly wondered if he was just as embarrassed for his lack of acknowledgment as you had been. “Homes nice, you’re nicer.”

“I thought we weren’t going to talk about it,” you let your soft voice get taken by the wind.

“An’ what gave you tha’ impression?”

He did. He gave you that impression. By not mentioning it. By treating you how he always did.

“You.”

“Me?” Harry responded, indignantly, blowing out a sigh that had his cheeks puffing out underneath your hand. “‘M not doing a very good job then am I? I can’t keep m’eyes off o’you. ‘S not my fault you don’t bloody notice ‘em.”

But you had noticed them. 

His eyes, gaze following your every move, near enough. Stupid little touches. Glances of approval. Not just now, but from years before. 

Treating you how he always did.

Oh, treating you how he always did.

Bringing your eyes back to his figure, you saw the way his gaze darted and nervousness dragged at his features. A frown began to set itself between his eyebrows from worry. 

“Changes everything.”

Running his tongue along his teeth, Harry pursed his lips. “Everythin’ has changed, changed a long time ago an’all.” 

You dropped your hand down, it now massaging against the back of his neck and shoulder as you felt the tension of his body radiating through his clothes. Under the dim moonlight and the odd spotlight that had been added to the viaduct with each passing year for safety, Harry exhumed everything anyone would want in a boyfriend. He was soft, and so bloody gorgeous. Not just because he was personification of an almost six foot tall string of handsomeness, but his character did the talking for him.

He knocked the door before he walked into a room, for example. Who really did that kind of thing anymore? 

But you could also still see the heartbreak that lingered, albeit not as strong as it once was, it was still there. And that was problematic and scary. To be on the receiving end of it. Not that you would hold it against him, because you had been him at one point too. At many points in fact. 

When the two of you had shagged, because let’s face it that is exactly what it had been, while a sense of familiarity in the person was prevalent it was definitely overruled by the desire to just hit a euphoric high that if hit right could not be topped. 

Familiar overruled in other aspects, and it wasn’t to be brushed away. But was familiarity a mask that would slip sooner rather than later? Was it the start and the end?

The both of you experienced similarities in your life that could not be matched by the friends in your friendship group. London had chewed you up and spat you out, ruthlessly so. While rewarding you with long hours but fat pay cheques, careers that catapulted you to new heights and enabled you to see parts of the world that two country kids (which in one way you were) could never have imagined. 

Sure Harry’s had been on a much, much larger scale - you would not ever deny that - but you no longer fit in. 

And neither did he. 

This was a place that only the two of you knew. A place where you watched those around you fall in love and have the time to do so. A place where your friend's happiness was created a lot easier than it wasn’t and allowed a sense of success to weave its way in, through the most unexpected of happenings.

Not a place where you found happiness in your work because there was less of a space for happiness to blossom elsewhere. Not really. Not like you; both of you. 

Understanding was vital. 

This had been a place you knew like the back of your hand. A place that had you feeling the earth beneath your feet, fresh air in your lungs and had at times made it so you found yourself sitting by a river and finding yourself feeling complete. 

Yet looking over at the almost 26 year old, that just wasn’t the case anymore. 

And for once you didn’t feel alone. 

The sound of the odd piece of cobbled pavement underneath Harry shoes, buried beneath overgrown grass and plants, broke you from your thoughts, as you watched him kick at the ground and scuff his shoes.

He sighed, head tilted back before he knocked it to the side and caught your eyes. A small scoffed laugh left his lips as he shook his head and dropped his gaze to his feet.

“‘S it fucked?”

You hummed, a small frown lacing your features.

“Fucked it, haven’t I? Fuckin’- idiot-“ he breathed out a noise as he clenched his teeth, one that wasn’t quite a growl but enough to let you know he was agitated. Only strengthened by how tight his jaw became. 

Before you could even think, the back of your hand gently brushed against the pulsing hinge of his jaw. Muscles taut as you tried to soothe him in a way that your mind was screaming was far too intimate.

You didn’t want him having any internal battle about right and wrong. Not when you had both taken the same steps to get here. 

“Thought it was just meant as a one time thing,” you admitted. “Like you needed it, and I needed it. Was what it needed to be at the time. Bit rough, bit sloppy-“

You cringed are the use of the word. Wanting the ground to swallow you in a weird fashion. You should be able to talk open and honestly with someone who you had known longer than hadn’t. 

“Rough?“ Harry swallowed audibly, his face fallen. “That’s not-“ 

His eyes held an emotion similar to sorrow at the mention of the word. “That’s not the impression I wanted to give you.” 

“We were both drunk, it happens.” 

“Not with me it doesn’t. Not when it’s me, wanting to be wi’you.”

“I mean I was into it if that helps anything?” 

“Were yer?”

You looked at him from the corner of your vision, watching his lips try to fight a smile as you rolled yours into your mouth to not give yourself away. You knew what you were trying to do by speaking those words aloud but you wished you hadn’t. Awkward breathy laughs were shared by the two of you as you held his eyes. 

“Was I?”

You hummed in agreement to answer his question, letting your smile dance along your lips now and watching as Harry’s dimples started to show. His expression was youthful, slightly smug. 

“Good t’know.”

***

Finishing saying your goodbyes to your friends and ignoring their suggestive expression because ‘Harry was stopping as an extra pair of hands’, you shut the heavy wooden door and reached up to close the deadbolt lock at the top. Shortly after, you let your feet drop as you stopped standing on your tiptoes and pressed your forehead against the door. 

The silence of the pub was always a strange one to you. A place that was usually thriving, whether it was just your friends, or your parents friends. When the lights were turned out, it was actually quite a lonely place. Regardless of growing up around this sort of industry your entire life and having parents as publicans nothing was more depressing than an empty bar, lifeless and nothing like it was intended.

A suggested lock-in from Jack, who managed to interrupt both yours and Harry’s conversation earlier had not been a bad shout after all. You knew it meant that you would have to deal with the fallout with it being Christmas Eve, but it wasn’t very often that you found yourself in the setting. 

Turning to move from the door, you almost jumped out of your skin when you heard the opening of a familiar Lily Allen song start to play over the speakers. 

Harry emerged from the corner of the pub that housed the jukebox, slowly rubbing his hands together before he wordlessly picked up the scattered pint glasses that had remained on one of the tables that had been missed by the staff on the evening shift. His eyes glanced over at you, as you stood with a hand to your chest.

This wicked smile and gleam washed over his face as he paused his movement. “Did I scare yer?”

“Do you not think it’s a bit loud?”

He wrinkled his nose at you, a soft shake of his head no, to answer your question. 

“‘S your fave innit?” He asked, head nudging to where the jukebox was now hidden.

With a small smile you nodded, “Prefer the Keane version in all honesty.”

“Don’t have it in the bloody jukebox though, d’yer? Can’t like it that much.”

Your smile deepened at his exclaim and how prominent his accent sounded as he spoke, the small clink of the glasses he was holding only heard if you really zoned in. 

“Where d’yer want these?” He asked, holding up the five pint glasses he had collected. “Behind t’bar?”

Humming, you nodded and watched as he weaved his way through the tables to you. You frowned as he got closer, not understanding why he hadn’t bypassed you completely.

Once he was close enough to you, you watched as he reached for what you knew to be your own glass of wine that was almost finished. 

“Fancy the rest of this or can it go too?”

Looking at him and down to the glass, you gently wrapped your hand around it and brought the lip to your mouth. You knocked the item back quickly, swallowing the rest of your wine, before handing over the now empty glass back to Harry.

“Good girl,” he joked, light laughter lacing each word. “Sit yourself down.”

Wearing an amused and quizzical expression, you let yourself sink down into the wooden chair. Resting your chin on your hand, you spun slightly in your seat to keep your eyes on Harry as he placed the glasses down and lifted the hatch so he could step behind the bar. 

With your free hand, you started to tap the worn beer coaster labelled with the Cheshire Brewhouse logo against the table. Part of you hated how Harry had a knack for anything, including knowing his way around a bar. 

He busied himself with collating the glasses once more as you let your eyes take in the surroundings you had known, loved and even grown out of. 

Your parent’s pub was cosy and friendly. A truly 

classic and quintessential British village pub, featuring open fires, bookcases found in the very far corner or the jukebox in the other, lots of old oak and a really pleasant garden with benches for the summat and heaters for the winter. You know the kind that had its regulars that had kids who had seen each other grow up.

The bar was the centre of the pubs house, with an extensive array of whiskies amongst many other delights. A nice range of local ales and a well-balanced, great quality list of wines on offer designed (which you would be taste testing if the service hadn’t decided to take a break) to complement the food menus designed daily by a team of chefs who all have a passion for great cooking using fresh, seasonal and local ingredients.

It looked as Christmassy as Christmas could get, with a real tree which was locally sourced from one of the many surrounding farms and traditionally decorated with golds and reds. Twinkly lights shone, not only on the trees but as part of the garland that was hung above the bar each year, much to the annoyance of your Dad and the delight of your Mum.

Slowly dragging your eyes back to the bar, you watched Harry as he poured you another glass of white wine and started to recap the bottle. He must’ve felt your eyes on him, his gaze meeting yours almost immediately. 

“Service is a bit slow,” you jibed, once you knew he was with you. “Going to ruin the reputation of a fine establishment.”

His chuckle was breathy in response, but warmed you through as he turned his back and pushed his tumbler glass up against the device at the bottom of the Glenfiddich distilled malt whiskey, not once but twice going for a double. 

“Helping yourself to the stock now, as well.” 

“‘M sure your Dad won’t mind,” he responded, twisting his body back around to reach for your own glass and place it onto a tray that sat along the bar top. “In fact he’d probably make a comment about how it’d put hairs on m’chest.”

You laughed, unrestrained, knowing just how right he had been with that comment. 

Over the otherside of the room, Harry smiled and shushed you as he walked closer, easily holding the tray with your drinks upon it. “Being a bit loud,” he taunted as he slid the tray down to the oak table.

“Oh, now you’re concerned about the noise.”

With his hand against the back of the chair which was currently housing your outstretched legs, you felt him start to wobble the seat to give you a warning. 

“Hang on,” you said, “Plenty of other chairs.”

“This one’s mine,” he responded.

Wanting to roll your eyes but deciding not to, you let your legs drop down and gave the seat back to Harry. Once he was comfortable and he’d taken your drink off the tray, he gestured with his right hand.

Not entirely focused, he had to do the ‘come hither’ motion a couple of times before you finally cottoned on. He was willing to let you put your legs on his lap instead, while he may have taken the seat it didn’t mean he wanted to take away your comfort.

No sooner had your legs been raised to rest against his tan washed velvet corduroy trousers, was he fiddling with the buckle of your stiletto sandals.

“Got mud everywhere,” you commented, wiggling your toes that were painted a festive red and inspecting the little dots of dirt that were splattered against your skin, as Harry dropped the first shoe to the floor and quickly worked on the second. “Dread to think what they smell like.”

“Smell alrigh’ from ‘ere,” he mused, smirk faint but glaring obvious in his tone of voice as he threw a quick and mischievous glance at you. As you elongated your foot against his thighs, the tips of your toes were just about able to press into his thick jumper to try and jab at him for his comment. 

Before you were able to put any sort of force behind your action, Harry’s hand clamped down around the top of your foot causing your eyes to snap up away from his hand and up to his eyes.

There he sat watching you, top two teeth pressed into his bottom lip keep his smile at bay. Releasing his lips slowly, his whispered threat left his throat, “I will tickle.”

You tried to fidget away but to no avail. With a whined laugh, you frowned as Harry goaded you by slowly raising his eyebrows. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me.”

You had tried him. 

Truth be told you wanted to again.

If he wanted to.

Reaching for your wine, you took a hefty sip and let the silence swallow you both. Harry, who kept his hand on your foot and his fingers dancing gently against the top, let his head fall back awkwardly against the hardwood. His head dropped to the side taking in his surroundings and their familiarity. 

“Do you ever get tired of coming back?” 

You hummed, sure you had misheard due to the way the blood was rushing around your ears. He turned to look at you, all double chin and puffy cheeks.

“Of everything being the same, but different?”

His whispers captivated you, hushed confessions not quite meant for anyone else but his own mind yet spilling from him with such an ease that he did nothing to fight them. 

“I’ll admit, I come home for other people. Not for me.”

“People?”

“Mum, Dad,” you paused. “You.”

His smile deepened. His chin knocking down to his chest, his eyes looking up at you from underneath his curling hair from being caught in the moist winter evening just hours before.

“You can stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you did three nights ago.”

Harry breathed in deeply, his nostrils flaring and his chest expanding. A lick of his lips, before his mouth dropped to sit slightly agape. 

“What if I don’t wan’to? What if I want t’look at yer like this all the time?”

You found yourself unable to respond, nose burying itself into your wine glass as you pressed your lips against the cool outside to try and hide your burning smile. 

His lips curled lightly, before he breathed a laugh once and gently shook your foot with his hand. “Eh? Come ‘ere-“

“Harry,” you breathed.

“C’mon, c’mere. ‘S room for more than just your feet.”

If it wasn’t for the creak of your chair as you slowly started to push yourself out of it, you wouldn’t have consciously been aware of how you were making your way to him. 

His body relaxed, somehow managing to become closer to horizontal than sitting upright in his seat, as he peered as you walking the short distance over to him. 

With his legs widened, he pressed his face into your side now that you were close enough. His nose inhaled the familiar scent of your perfume which was only faint now due to the other senses and scents it had mixed with throughout the evening.

Rolling his face out of your body, he knocked his head back and pressed his chin where his face had been. The face you showed him was worn with worry, an expression he did not want to meet.

“‘S wrong?”

His ask was lazy. Not wanting to dig deep and know. What if he didn’t like what he found? 

“We know how this is going to end.”

“Do we?” He prodded. His eyes moved over your features quickly before they partly disappeared to him, thanks to your curtain of hair which slowly fell down.

His hand reached up, desperately brushing it away and cupping at the back of your head as best as he could while he remained seated. 

“How’s that? Tell me.”

“Same, but different.” 

You knew you shouldn’t use his words, not in a way that could be considered against him, but they - in the most ambiguous of ways - described everything perfectly. 

“Not if I have my way.” 

His words were almost lost against your stomach as he pressed his face against you once more and wrapped his hands around you; sweaty, nervous palms pressing to the backs of your thighs. 

“Same, but better.”

Harry guided you down to his lap, his lips somehow managing to remain pressed into stomach, or your chest, or your clavicle, as your face became level with his. 

“Different, but better.” 

He kissed against your cheek slowly, nose nudging at your skin as he willed for you to relax against him. “I don’t know how you like it, like this,” he whispered in confession. “Show me?”

A puff of air left your lips as you turned to look at him with hooded eyes. His mouth was closer to yours than you originally thought, corners of lips brushing as you slightly pulled away. 

When your lips met, it was in the softest of pecks that trembled under your nerves. Both sets of eyes looking back at each other as you innocently engaged. 

If you were to take your eyes away from him in any way, you would notice those fluffy curls of his falling over his forehead and the lightest dusting of red blush making itself known against his cheeks and the tops of his ears.

He felt like a school boy, lost and clumsy. The kid who was once again flicking paper at you in science class just so he could pull a face at you over something your teacher was saying to get you to laugh. 

Mouths hovering over each other, your breathing mixed, as Harry nodded to you slightly. You pressed your lips to his once more, feeling the way he gradually opened up to you, warmed and softened underneath the puckering of your mouth against his. 

His hands, that slightly trembled, smoothed over your hips trying to pull your body so that it was more so flush against his. You moaned softly, your hands running over his jumper covered shoulders, fingers digging and pulling at the material just below the nape of his neck. 

The chair beneath you moved lightly against the floor, not quite a scrape but a dull drag. Neither of you broke the kiss, but his hands against you allowed fingers to dig in to hold you steady to him so if you were to fall from where you were sitting, he still had you. 

His lips slowed, moving to press against your cheeks again as he panted and his warmth breath bounced off your skin. “Think I got it,” he heaved. 

“Do you?”

Harry hummed his ‘yea’, before pressing his lips so tenderly to your chin and the underside of your jaw. He felt how you swallowed heavily, throat dry from the way your mouth hung open and your neck further exposed itself as you lolled your head back. 

You were falling further and further back, finding it hard to stay upright as he devoured you and made you weaker with each pulling kiss. His groans were needy, muffled and making your ache. While yours were silent and making his desperate to pull something from you. To build is confidence in that he was doing something right, you liked it this way too. 

Hands fumbled and dragged upwards at your skirt, faintly aware now how it was similar - if not the same one - to the garment you wore to his show. 

“Gonna take this off properly,” he mumbled, feeling the way your hips moved slightly from his hands to roll over him. 

“You don’t have to-“

“No?” 

Your voices were rushed as you spoke to each other, barely audible but loud enough all the same. His head was knocked back slightly as you hovered over him and you found yourself admiring his blissed out face even only in the lead up.

This was a sight that you hadn’t received last time, and if you had your way it was one you were going to greedily enjoy in all its glory.

Like watching the way his eyes closed and he softly grinned, the left side of his teeth started to show as the one side of his face reacted first while your hands blindly moved to lift up his jumper and the white tee he had on underneath, to allow you to find the button of his corduroys.

“What ya doing?”

“Nothing,” you mused. 

He pulled a face, the kind that down turned his lips, eyebrows raised and head slightly tilted to the side. The kind that had you smiling. 

“Not trying to get m’trousers around m’ankles for a second time within a week then?”

You giggled. “No.”

“Please do.”

A low moan left you as you pressed your forehead to his jaw and dropped your eyes. Your hands slowly started to pull at the brass button and pop it open before seeking out the zip thanks to his desperate plea, encouraging you to continue. 

Hands quickly sought out the waistband of the trousers and gently pulled at the item. From the way that you were sat, you knew there was no way you were doing to make them budge.

“Stand up fo’ me,” he mumbled, quickly helping you get off his lap so that he could make light work of his clothing and pull down his trousers and underwear. 

His bare bum made easy contact with the cushion leather beneath him, eyes carefully watching you as your hands moved to underneath your skirt. 

The fabric of your underwear slipped so easily down your legs, his eyes just about caught the sight of them as they pooled against your ankles and you kicked them away. 

Legs pressed together, you slowly untucked the v-necked blouse you had chosen and pulled it over your head. Wearing nothing but a fancy black bra, and a tight little skirt you hastily snatched for your wine and took a hefty gulp.

You could feel his eyes on you, a gruff groan catching in the back of his throat and when you finally turned your eyes from where they had been looking down at your heaving chest and how great this bra made your boobs look, causing him to move his hand down to start playing with himself. 

His name left your lips in a breathy gasp, causing you to look up quite surprised at the find of his right hand gently tugging at his hard length.

“Keepin’ me waitin’,” he groaned, his left hand sloppily reached for the back of the collar of his jumper and tee, pulling the item roughly over his head.

“Fuck sake,” he mumbled under his breath, agitated that he was unable to get both items of in one go.

“Smooth.”

Harry stared up at you with a playful squint, before he gently fell back and moved the chair as he did so, the dull scrape heard once more. 

And if you didn’t know he was flushed before, when you first kissed, you were definitely aware now. His eyes were blown out and hungry as they devoured you. Hair wildly haphazard before he let go of himself with a soft slap of his skin and harshly pushed his fingers through it.

“‘S it still a couple of quid for a strip of three,” his words brought you back to him. This smugness radiated off of him as he groaned and leaned forward to push his trousers down all of the way. Over his vans and socked feet, before he toed them off as well be harshly pulled at his white sport socks. 

You didn’t even need for him to explain what he meant, staying silent as you watched his hands tug at his corduroys from the floor and retrieve his wallet. As his fingers moved around to find a couple of quid, the jangle of the coins was taunting. 

One leg crossed over the other, you swayed and found yourself blushing when he looked up at you once he’d managed to find enough money and then some. With his wallet thrown on the table, he stood proudly from the seat and closed the short gap between your both.

Leaning forward he easily took your lips with his own before pulling away. With his face still close to yours he whispered, “Promise not to look at my arse.”

He didn’t hang around long enough for your reply, instead turning away and brazenly giving you all the time you would ever need to admire him, his fantastic bum and his hairy legs before he opted for a jog-walk type of thing, suddenly conscious that he was absolutely walking around naked from the waist down in a pub owned by your parents. 

While you waited you took a quick pull from his whiskey, needing the heftier burn for Dutch courage. Nervousness returned when you heard the endings of what you believed to be Harry whistling. 

“Machine ate all m’fuckin’ change,” he grumbled, regardless of the twinkle in his eye at the strip of overpriced condoms he had managed to score from the men’s bathroom. “‘S Durex. Business must be booming, your Dad’s definitely gone up in the world.” 

“Please don’t talk about my Dad.”

He smiled brightly before he reached for your face with one hand and pulled you towards him mumbling his ‘sorry’s’ against your lips as he gave you several kisses in quick succession. 

His other arm loosely wrapped around your back and pulled you with him as he walked backwards and slowly lowered himself back onto his previous seat. The chair creaked as you joined him, slipping into his lap and feeling the way he was smiling now.

Pulling away from your kiss, he quickly tore away one of the condoms allowing the others to fall without much care to the floor. Teeth took a hold of the foil-like packaging and he tore it not so elegantly with his eagerness.

With his cock nestled in the crease of his own thigh now, the heat radiating from it matched your own agonising yearning. Scooting back to give him space, you heard him groan as he gently rolled the condom down onto himself. Eyes looking up just in time to see him knocking his head back and breathing deeply through nose. The foil-like packaging was back in between his teeth once more as his hands were otherwise preoccupied.

Slowly your hand reached up to take it from his mouth, feeling some playful resistance as Harry continued to hold it in his teeth. His eyes were open and boyishly sincere, as you tugged at the item and he finally released it when you lightly laughed. 

“Gi’me a kiss.”

Obliging him, you leant forward and slotted your mouths together a lot easier than you had done at the start of the night. A heat built easily between the two of you, as Harry gave you his tongue and you felt the flex of his jaw under your hand as he worked your mouths together.

He was eager, his hands tightening on your waist before he growled when he understood he had to grab handfuls of skirt before he could cup your backside. But when his skin met yours and you ground down onto his lap, the groan that left him was the most animalistic sound imaginable. 

The frown your face fell into showed your desire to whimper, as he kept you atop him and marvelled in the way you writhed, both from satisfaction and keenness at the pressure of his cock against you. 

“Can I have you again?” He asked, the startings of sweaty hair being pushed off your face. His eyes peered at you, searching for his answer as you seemed to be able to do nothing but pant and look back at him yearningly. “Are you letting me?”

You dragged your fingers down his t-shirt covered torso and lifted it slightly just to see the quiver of his stomach as pulled you onto him once more. 

“Like this?” you voiced, meekly.

“‘F this is what you like then, yea’”, he breathed into your mouth, hands shifting your pliant body. “Is this what you want?”

You wordlessly nod, mouth falling open in a breathy gasp when he managed to move you so he sat so enticingly at your entrance. He was teasing both yourself and him, wanting to keep you both on the edge. 

Harry blinked a few times as he looked at you, and you revelled in the way he couldn’t seem to concentrate. His hands held your flesh tightly, fingertips dipping into the skin of your bum cheeks as he gently guided you down.

An unattractive and dull, quite strangled noise, left your throat as you let your forehead fall against his temple. Eyes falling down you see the cups of your bra fall slack, you felt his hands softly gliding over your shoulder blades and shoulders. 

He rid you of your bra, hands moving to your chest to squeeze your breasts. His jaw fell slack when you found yourself sitting snugly on his lap - on him - settled and already feeling spent.

This was so different compared to the last time; if not overwhelming so because of the way you both appeared to be so present. Each movement of your hips, and the way they rolled and grinded and dragged felt too much. So much so that you had become nothing more than a mess of short, quick breathing and blushing, sweaty cheeks. 

Slack-jaw, you were unable to find it in you to return Harry’s kisses, and his joyful, breathy chuckle seemed to lead you to believe he was fine with it. In fact he was happy to keep going as you were. 

Your movements were frantic, and despite the build up, not entirely driven by lust either. Harry continued to encourage you to move as you were; slow, grinding motions on his lap that caused the filthiest of groans and dirtiest of laughs from the two of you. Laughter that was only made stronger as the chair that held you both started to creak too. 

You couldn’t do much about it though other than to breathe into each other’s mouth, and rock your hips together with more fervour each time. 

“Yea’,” he breathed against your lips, left hand at the back of your head holding you to him, while his right rested just above your bum. “‘S better. That’s better.”

It was better. Better than last time. Better than anything before. 

And while it hadn’t been frantic before, it was now as your legs that were hanging down either side of the chair started to tremble and your toes started to dig into the worn carpet beneath them. Hips knocking and your clit dragging heavenly against his public bone, you grasped his name as you buried your face into his neck and dug your nails into his nape.

Harry hissed his approval which fell to a groan as your nails pushed up into his hair and lightly pulled as you sought leverage. There were so many things you were learning this time around and his penchant for liking his hair pulled from time to time, was one of those things. 

“God, ‘m gonna come soon,” he admitted, gruntly as he forced your hips down as he anchored his legs and widened his seating position. “Are you close?”

“Yeah,” you whined. “Yes. Like this-“

And as you pressed your face to his once more, he was everywhere. Soft but hard, loving but commanding. Smelled like clean washing detergent but of country air. Inviting and alluring, allowing you your lingering kisses between grounding breaths that became staccato in unison with the movement of your hips. 

You aren’t ashamed of the whines that escaped your throat as you squeezed down on his cock, praised by indecipherable works that left Harry but were nothing more to you than lips moving against your rough and dry ones. Word that made the burning feeling of your pending orgasm spread through your entire body, warming you and setting you alight.

It was long and deep, with your toes curling into the carpet they were pressed against now. Barely able to catch your breath, sucking in harshly and shaking. 

And when you came to, thoroughly exhausted, you noticed that he was waiting for your say so. That he could let go and enjoy the pleasure brought about by your shared labour. 

“Coming-“ was all the warning that you got and was enough to encourage you to watch him as he came, his face completely void of anything other than pure pleasure. Wrinkles and frowns fade, his mouth falling open with his pink lips glinting prettily under the dim Christmas lights around you.

His forehead gleamed with sweat as he wrapped his arms around you tightly and his hips bucked up one, two and three times for good measure. “Fuck me,” he heaved gruffly.

You were suddenly desperate to feel his lips on yours despite the way you both continued to fight to get your breath back, but settled for resting them against the skin of his cheek, which was hot to the touch. 

When you felt Harry start to go soft, you reluctantly pulled away and let him slip out of you. He wasn’t so keen to let you get too far, holding you just that bit higher than before with his hand cupping gently but firmly at your hip. “Where’d you think you’re going,” he hummed, eyes still closed as he continued to heavily inhale and exhale. 

You softly smiled, taking in his soft face and responded by nuzzling close to him again. 

Nowhere. Somewhere. Anywhere with him.

A place where only the two of you knew, like the back of your hand. The same way you knew each other. Now and possibly forever.

[ikeromantic]

Another Request! I'm really sorry for being this greedy!

Kisses on the neck, IkeSen Masamune, Surprise Me!

The One-Eyed Dragon had agreed to take you drinking. Better, he said, to go with you and make sure you didn’t do anything stupid.

You appreciated the concern. Last time you went drinking, you went with Mitsuhide. You ended up in the dungeon courtesy of Hideyoshi. Hidemama hadn’t been very happy with the chaos you caused, trying to drunkenly explain ‘memes’ to Mitsuhide. Posing random peasants, soldiers, and merchants as characters from the pictures. It had been fun. Getting lectured after . . . not so much.

Of course, Masamune would just be escorting you. He didn’t drink. Which just meant you’d have to think up some invent ways to make him lose his cool tonight.

“You know, if you wanted to eat some good food and drink sake, I could have cooked for you.” Masamune eyed the dishes you ordered. Pickled veggies, some roast fish, some soup.

“What’s wrong with this?”

“The vegetables lack spice. The meat is overcooked . . .”

“But the sake is fantastic.” You grinned and downed another cup. That made for seven. Wine was definitely better in the Sengoku. “Want to try some? Just one cup?” Teasing, you scooted closer to Masamune and held out the cup.

“Nope. No. I have to stay sober to keep you out of trouble.” He bopped your nose with his finger.

“Pffft.” You rested your chin on his shoulder, noting the way his cheeks heated at your nearness. “I’d rather get into trouble with you.”

“Lass . . .” he cleared his throat. “You’re making a pretty tempting offer. But I already promised Hideyoshi I’d . . .”

His voice dissolved into a surprised exhale as you kissed his neck. Your lips closed over the skin just behind his ear, your tongue peaking out enough to taste him.

Masamune shivered, then swallowed, clearly trying to get his composure back. “What are you doing?”

“Deciding where to leave my mark. You know, so all the other ladies know not to flirt. Or else.”

“What?” Masamune laughed and pulled back from you. “You aren’t serious.”

You smile, showing your teeth. “Aren’t I?”

He watched you for a moment, uncertainty in his blue eye. Then he laughed again and pulled you close. “Kitten, you are more trouble than Shogetsu. And twice the armful.”

It felt nice to be so close. His broad chest was warm and solid, comfortable. But you weren’t going to let him disarm you so easily. He was still entirely too composed. You tilted your head up and nipped under his jaw.

Masamune tried to be stoic about it, but you couldn’t miss the catch in his breath. “I thought you came here to drink, lass.”

“Oh, I did. Have you ever heard of a body shot?” You couldn’t help the wicked smile that curled your lips at the thought.

“Where someone gets shot through their body?” He was teasing. You could hear his smile.

Your tongue traced a line down his throat, stopping at his collarbone. “Mmmm, good guess, but nope!” You could see his skin dimple at your touch. “It’s an easy game to play. I pick a spot on you to lick - no salt required, I guess - and then drink sake from a glass balanced on you somewhere. Without using my hands. Then I umm . . .” You realized there wasn’t a ready substitute for the lime on the table. Damn. “Then I win.”

“That doesn’t sound like much of a game, lass. What’s the challenge? The stakes?”

You frowned, considering. “Alright. Let’s make it a bet. If I can take a shot without spilling and without using my hands, I get to ask you for one favor - anything I want.”

“And I get the same if you spill?” Masamune sounded interested now.

“Yep.” You looked up and met his eye. He was smiling as wide as you were, with that mischievous twinkle in the depths of his gaze.

“Then tell me what I need to do.”

You got him to lay back. He looked so confident and self assured, as he watched you pour the sake. This felt totally different than taking a body shot back in the 21st century. No nervous college boys here, no giggling friends. Just you and the dragon.

Masamune tensed a little as you put the sake cup in the hollow just below his throat and above his sternum. One of your favorite spots to kiss, though honestly, all of him is just perfect. You licked your lips, considering.

“You look like you’re planning to eat me whole, kitten.” He chuckled and the cup wobbled dangerously.

“Don’t talk! That’s cheating.”

He grinned.

“Now don’t move. I mean it.” You straddled him. His eyebrow rose and he made the most interesting sound as you got comfortable. He was clearly struggling to abide by your rules, but it was hard.

You made it harder by pulling his kimono open to reveal his abdomen and the rest of his chest. “So first . . . I’m gonna lick you. I’m not putting any salt down since we aren’t drinking tequila, ok? Then I’ll take the shot.”

He made a sound you assumed was agreement. Then you kissed his belly, running your tongue up. Your nails grazed his sides as you left a hot trail up him.

Masamune let out a muffled gasp, which made the sake slosh in its cup.

“Mmmm don’t move, or you forfeit,” you told him, your lips almost brushing his. You lowered your head to the sake cup. Slow as cold honey, your lips wrapped around the porcelain, warm from the contact with Masamune’s skin.

He tensed at the touch. You weren’t sure if he was afraid you would spill, or hoping you might. Maybe both.

You tossed your head back, swallowing the wine. Then you set the cup down on the floor next to his head, still without using your hands. “Impressed?”

“It didn’t look that hard.”

“Oh? Then why don’t you try it?” You laughed and wiggled on his lap, drawing another sharp inhale from the dragon. “For double or nothing?”

“I don’t drink. At least not in public.” Masamune sounded hoarse and a little unsure.

“We’ll make it water then.” At eight cups in, you were feeling pretty good. Pretty sure of yourself. Masamune was going to owe you two favors and you already had a pretty good idea of what to ask for.

The two of you switched places.

Masamune poured his own cup of water, clearly not trusting you to not spike it with at least a little sake.

You were a little disappointed when he set the cup in the hollow of your throat. You’d imagined him and his talented lips lower . . . but when you looked up at him, you realized how flustered you’d made him. His cheeks were flushed, his breath ragged. He was trying to act unaffected, but the careful way he was moving told you he was perfectly aware of his position, of how intimate this was.

Masamune’s hands were shaking as he set them to either side of your head.

“Nervous?” You teased him, wriggling your hips as he leaned over you. “If you want to back out, I can ask for my favor now. I know what I want.”

Your smile lit a flame in his blue eye. You could feel the heat of it as he leaned closer. As his lips found the soft skin under your chin.

“I never back down from a challenge,” he said, his voice rasping.

You couldn’t help the way you arched toward him as his tongue drew a line down your throat. His teeth lightly grazed your collarbone.

“No moving.” His breath was hot against your skin. He traced the edge of the cup with his tongue, sending a shiver through you. Like alternating ice and fire, the cool surface of the cup and his warm lips teased.

You did your best not to move, not to make a sound. Your best fell far short of the goal.

The cup of water fell, dumping the cold water down the side of your neck. You squealed, wriggling underneath Masamune. He didn’t let you up.

“I think that means you forfeit.” His voice was a heated purr against your chilly skin. Masamune’s lips were on you before you could answer, his mouth scorching the icy parts of your neck with hungry kisses. He lapped away the water and bit at the tender skin beneath.

You moaned and ached for more. What had started as you taunting him flipped, and now it was you that felt desperate.

“Thought I didn’t know what you were up to, lass?” He chuckled as he caught sight of your expression. “Teasing a dragon is never wise.” His touch was electric as he moved to your shoulder, leaving a little trail of pink love-bites.

“It’s no fair,” you sighed. “You always leave me such a mess.”

He stopped, looking at you seriously. “You really have no idea what you do to me, do you? Just walking by. Your smile.” He lifted your hand in his. “The way my heart races because your hand brushed against me in the hall.”

Masamune’s lips found your skin again, traveling a new path to your throat. “If I make you half as desperate . . .”

You ran your fingers through his hair, tugging lightly.

He groaned and pulled back from you. “We should go home.”

You took advantage of this to wriggle out from under him and stand. “Sure,” you gave him one of your crazy smiles. “But you’ll have to catch me first.” And then on unsteady feet, you bolted out the door.

Masamune chased you, the both of you laughing the whole way back to his estate.

[watchmegetobsessed]

Our song - Harry Styles

this one was inspired by the jingleball performance bc it was pure perfection and UGHH im obsessed.

dedicated to my dear friend @dontworrysunflower

disclaimer: the song Homesick by Dua Lipa is featured in this fic as an original work of Harry and the reader, but it’s obviously an existing song, I just thought that it would be the song they write

pairing: Harry x vocalist!reader

word count: 5.3k

masterlist

You’ve felt the adrenaline rush take over your body many times in your life and they were all different in some kind of way. The one you felt when you were about to write an important test in school, the one that bubbled through your veins when you got your first kiss. The one that rolled through your limbs and chest when you first performed in front of people that weren’t your parents and the one you felt when you got the news that you were chosen to tour with none other than Harry Styles as his vocalist, singing on his stage every other night in a different city and different country.

But none of those were anything like the feeling that takes over every time you stand on that stage, your microphone that’s labelled with your name right in front of you as thousands of people are screaming in the jam-packed arena. Though it’s not you they come to see and listen to, but you are part of the magic and it’s quite enough for you.

You could never be the one standing at the front with all the lights shining down on your frame, having every gaze in the place glued to you, listening to your voice. That brings the kind of anxiety you’re quite sure you wouldn’t be able to handle. You are perfectly fine standing in the back, being the support system while staying on the down-low as someone else shines at the front, in your case, it’s Harry.

You applied for the job with a reason, already having a huge appreciation for him as an artist, adoring his work so far, especially Fine Line. Upon hearing about the opportunity to be part of his tour, you didn’t hesitate to send your application in and following three auditions, you got the phone call that they wanted you on board.

He swept you right off your feet the first time you met him, but you didn’t expect less from him. Everything you heard about him being the most wonderful person to every walk the planet were proven to be nothing but the truth. You hit it off so easily and become close through the process of rehearsals. His odd little jokes, that funny laugh of his and the way he always peeks over his shoulder to meet his eyes with yours made you fall for him faster than you’d have ever thought you could.

Just as fast as your feeling for Harry developed, tour caught up on you and before you could blink twice, you were living on the road, always dressing from your suitcase, waking up in a different city every other morning.

The foreign studio feels a little odd, but still somehow familiar as you walk in with your water and notebook under your arm. Random studio sessions with Harry became a regular not long after tour kicked off. Harry’s creative juices were overflowing and he was aching to record his creations, constantly renting random studios near the hotel you lot were staying currently and one night, when some of you all were hanging out in his suit, he asked if you’d be down helping him record vocals for a song he’s been working on.

“I want to hear it with your voice instead of mine,” he told you leaning against the wall, a glass of whatever Mitch mixed him in his hands.

“Getting bored of your own voice?” you teased him, bringing his dimples out with the smile that plastered across his lips.

“Could say that. Are you up for it?”

There was no way you would have said no. So the next morning you found yourself in a studio somewhere in Sacramento, singing the vocals to a song no one else has heard other than you and Harry.

The tour has now reached Denver, you can’t wait to be on the stage tonight, but before that, you are having another quick session with Harry in the studio.

When you walk in, his head perks up from his leather notebook he always keeps on himself, filled with his scribbled lyrics. A smile stretches across his lips when his green eyes fall on your frame.

“Hey! Hope it’s not too early for you,” he softly says standing up from the chair as you put your stuff down to the small table in the corner.

“No, managed to get a good night sleep still,” you smile at him, taking a quick look around, though this recording room is just like the others you’ve been in.

“I think I figured out that part we struggled with last time. Changed up the ending a bit, would you mind giving it another go?”

You nod looking down at his notes, seeing the changes he has made in the vocals.

“Changed anything else?” you ask as you watch him get ready for the recording.

“Yeah, rewrote a few lines, think they are fitting better now.”

“Have you recorded them yet?”

“Will do now,” he tells you shaking his head.

Soon enough you find yourself standing behind the mic, headset covering your ears as you are waiting for Harry to start recording and the music to play in your ears. Once he shows up his thumb you do the same and a moment later the song you’ve heard last time you two were working starts flowing from the headset and you stare down at the notes in front of you, waiting for the moment when you have to start singing.

It takes you a few runs to nail it down, but when you finally do, you can see the satisfied grin on Harry’s face and you think to yourself that there’s nothing you wouldn’t do to make him like this anytime.

“That was fantastic,” he beams once you join him at the screens where you see your voice appear as a pattern over a straight line. Harry does his usual magic before leaving it be. “Mind assisting recording my part?” he asks turning to you with an excited smile.

Nodding you let him tell you what to do and once he is all set behind the mic, you start the recording and the song. You listen to him in awe. There hasn’t been a moment when you didn’t feel the shiver running down your spine when he started singing. You are convinced a choir of angels is hidden in his throat, because it’s hard to believe he is just as human as everyone else.

He sings the whole song three times before he joins you again, listening back to what you have so far. The song is coming along pretty well and you can tell by the time he finishes it, it’s gonna be perfect. Everything he does is just pure perfection, whether he likes to admit it or not.

“You know how it would be absolutely perfect?” he asks you on your way back to the hotel. The two of you grabbed a coffee as well, so now you’re sipping on the hot drink, enjoying the somewhat sunny weather.

“Hm?”

“I think it would be best if a female voice sang the whole thing and the male was just the vocal.”

“Who do you think would fit best for it then?” you ask, immediately thinking of singers that could be perfect for the song. It wouldn’t be the first time Harry would sell a song to someone else, so you’re not surprised he is thinking about this kind of change.

“Y/N, I found the voice already,” he chuckles and you give him a puzzled look. “You. You are singing the song, I don’t need anyone else.”

“I’m not a solo singer,” you protest.

“There’s no such thing as solo or not solo. You’re a singer and a bloody good one. I want you to sing it.”

“But it would go to waste, because I would never actually perform it.”

“How are you so sure about that?” he smirks slyly at you, immediately making you nervous.

“Harry, I don’t sing solo,” you shake your head stubbornly, but he rolls his eyes at you.

“You could just try it. Let’s just record the song next time with you in the lead and then we can talk about the rest.”

“I’m fine recording, but I will never perform it,” you tell him, but his look makes you think he has other plans.

When tour reaches Dallas, the song gets a version with you singing solo and Harry doing the vocals in it. And though you had doubts about the switch, listening back to it you can tell how much it helped. It really is better with a female voice, though you are still convinced it shouldn’t be you.

“Are you sure you don’t want to sell it to someone? I’m fine with that,” you ask him before the show in Dallas. You’re sitting on the table in his dressing room while he is painting his nails, his tongue poking out in concentration.

“I told you, I like it with your voice. Why is that so hard to believe?”

“Because I’m not a—“

“Fuck’s sake if you dare to tell me one more time that you’re not a solo singer, I’m firing you, Y/N!” he snaps, giving you a hard look, but you just laugh at his temper.

“It’s the truth.”

“Have you ever tried to go solo?”

“Not for years,” you admit and watch him screw the nail polish closed, pushing it aside, his hands lying flat on the table as he is carefully waiting for them to dry.

“So then how do you know you are no good at it?”

“Because I hated it back then, so I most likely would hate it now as well,” you state matter-of-factly, but Harry doesn’t seem amused by your answer.

“So you think you haven’t changed a bit in years? I hope you know that’s absolute bollocks.”

“Why are you so keen on making me sing solo?” you sigh, giving him a tired look. It feels like the two of you have been running the same circles since forever. It’s not his first attempt to get you sing more than just the vocals, he once wanted to do a cover and needed a partner because it was a duet and begged you for weeks to sing with him, but you didn’t give in. You just couldn’t.

“Because I think that you are a talented singer and I want you to feel the adrenaline rush performing gives you.”

“I do get that rush every time I sing behind you. That’s enough for me.”

Harry shakes his head pressing his lips tight together.

“That’s not the same as being in the lead. It’s a whole different world.”

“Yeah, one that makes me shit my pants,” you chuckle and he can’t push a smile back.

“Maybe we should just work on it. Your anxiety. I think we could actually make you feel better if we tried.”

“I still don’t know where this obsession with me being solo comes for you.”

Harry stands up, takes one last look at his nails before he steps closer smiling down at you softly and you bite into your bottom lip, realizing how close he is standing to you. His fingers tap in your cheek gently, running them down to your chin as he tilts your head up a bit.

“Just accept it, Love,” he smiles softly before stepping away and carrying on with his routine.

That evening, you stand at the back with the other two vocalists, eyes glued to Harry’s figure at the front of the stage, you watch him pour his soul out to the audience, interact with them and reach that state of mind you have never been able to get into. You know what he told you about performing is true, yet you are still terrified to do it yourself. It’s too nerve wrecking to have everyone look at and listen to you, so many chances to mess it up and make a fool out of yourself.

But when Harry’s eyes meet yours and he shoots you a warm smile, something shifts in you. The urge to have this connection with not just the audience and the song, but with him takes over your whole body and you make up your mind to at least give it a try.

Harry is ecstatic when you tell him later that night that you changed your mind. You see that sparkle in his eyes and it was already worth for you, just seeing him react like that.

“Though I have a few suggestions to change the lyrics.”

“You do?” he asks, seemingly surprised, but mostly amused that you had the balls to come out with it.

“Yeah. Just some tiny details.”

“Why haven’t you told me about these before?”

“Because it was your song. But if you want me to sing it, it has to be mine as well.” Harry stares back at you with a smile that’s filled with pride and joy, making your heart flutter in your aching chest as you think about performing solo.

“Our song,” he softly says nodding his head.

Arriving to Houston the two of you are quick to book a studio and work on the song. Harry lets you make any changes you desire on the lyrics, even says you did justice to it and that you should have spoken up earlier about your ideas. And then you record it.

It’s not that you have to sing the whole song and not just the vocals this time. You are completely fine with Harry hearing you sing, it’s the thought of performing it in front of anyone that’s not him, that’s what makes you turn into a wreck.

You record Harry’s vocals and once it’s all put together, you are blown by the outcome. You wouldn’t have thought Harry’s voice as the vocal would compliment you in the lead, but it’s just absolutely perfect and even you can’t find anything wrong with it.

“Love, this is what Heaven sounds like, I’m telling you,” he smirks at you from the chair beside you, playing the song for the tenth time, not able to get enough of the final product.

“You are so cheesy,” you shake your head, but feel the blush heating up your cheeks. His eyes linger on you a little longer before he turns back to the screen.

When the song is over he finally stops is so silence comes over the studio. Harry turns back to face you, his green eyes basically burning a hole into your head.

“So, when are we going to perform it?”

“I really don’t think it’s a good idea,” you sigh looking down at your hands fumbling with your shirt.

“And I do think it is. So I’m not stopping until you at least try it.”

Harry Styles gets what he wants. Always. And this time, no matter how hard you try to resist him, you just can’t deny this from him. Though it takes him time to talk you up, in Washington he finally gets you to give it a try in an empty stadium.

Most of the crew is out, since the building has been finished about half an hour before, so everything is perfectly set for tonight’s show when you walk out to the stage, following Harry in his heels. He asked the piano to be brought to the front along with a mic on it and another one on a stand next to it. The two of you quietly put on your earpieces, doing everything as if it was a usual occasion before a concert, only that this time the roles will be entirely switched.

“It’s fine, alright? No one is around,” he tells you when he sees how nervous you are to sing the song for the first time outside a studio.

“There are some backstage,” you mumble under your breath, not expecting him to do anything about it.

But he does. You watch him walk backstage, completely dumbfounded about what he is doing. He disappears from your sight and a few moments later you hear him shouting at the back.

“No one comes to the stage until I say so! Yea? Thanks!” he orders and then walks back as if he didn’t just boss around the whole crew.

“They will think you’re some kind of crazy celebrity,” you chuckle when he returns, a small smirk playing on his pink lips.

“Don’t care, Darling. Now sing you heart out for me.”

Harry sits on the piano bench, his fingers getting settled on the keys before he looks up to meet your anxious eyes.

“It’s alright. Just you and me, yea?”

Nodding you gulp hard and jump a little when he starts playing the melody the two of you have been working on for so long. You hear all the notes and you know you have to start singing, but you miss the opening. Harry stops and looks at you, as you move your eyes down to the ground, ashamed you messed up immediately.

“S-Sorry, I just—“

“How can I help?” he asks right away, not even caring about the fact that you messed up, focused on figuring out a way that would help you.

“I don’t know. I really don’t,” you sigh, feeling your nerves getting worse with each passing moment.

“Come sit next to me,” he then tells you motioning for you to join him on the bench.

“What?”

“Take your mic and sit next to me,” he repeats, scooting over to make you space. Hesitantly, you pull the mic out of the stand and walking over you sit next to him. “Now you are not in the center. Just listen to the music, watch my hands on the keys, okay?”

You nod, running your tongue over your dry lips as you hold the mic to your mouth before Harry starts playing again.

After the first few notes you close your eyes and when it’s time for you to start singing, Harry leans a little against you, giving you a kind of push to just do it. And it works.

It feels a little as if it’s not even you who starts singing, but it is. Your voice fills the empty arena along with the piano’s melody and keeping your eyes closed a little longer you let your mind settle. When the first verse ends you open them and watch his hands work on the keys, right as he starts singing the vocals, leaning a little forward so his voice reaches his mic.

It’s different. It’s electric and freeing, hear your voice through the massive speakers, to be in the lead and have Harry be just the support in the song. But it feels so right, better than anything you’ve ever felt.

Line after line, you hit all the notes and by the end of the song you are able to strip all your fears down and give yourself over to the music completely. As you sing the last few notes you feel Harry’s eyes on you and turning to face him, you are met with his warm, pride-filled smile and bright eyes, glued to you while his fingers press down the last notes.

The music dies down, the voice of the piano vibrates in the air a little longer until it completely disappears and the silence returns into the stadium.

“Love,” Harry quietly calls out for you and you turn completely towards him. “That was absolutely perfect.”

“You think so?” you ask, voice barely more than just a whisper, your eyes never leaving his gaze.

“I know so,” he huffs, smile widening. He brings an arm around your shoulders and pulls you into a hug, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead as you let out a breath you’ve been holding in for way too long.

He doesn’t try to make you perform that evening, knowing well it was enough for one day, but he does make you sing it with him in each city in the upcoming weeks. Before every concert, he empties out the area around the stage and the two of you sit down at the piano, singing your song until you feel comfortable enough to stand next to the instrument instead of sitting next to him.

The tour reaches New York and Madison Square Garden is getting ready to host Harry Styles for two evenings. The place is massive and you find yourself sitting at the edge of the stage when Harry emerges from backstage.

“Looks wild, right?” he asks sitting next to you, his thigh brushing against yours as he gets seated.

“Yeah. Pretty amazing.”

“This place has the most magical vibe.” “Yeah?” Turning to him you watch him take the arena in, his eyes glistening at the sight in front of him. You know it’s not his first time performing here, but it’s nice to see the excitement in his eyes regardless.

That feeling returns to your chest, the one you felt when Harry told you he wanted you to sing the song. The urge to be part of this amazing something that’s so much bigger than you.

“H?”

“Yea?” he turns to you smiling.

“Can I… Do you think we could sing our song tonight?”

You watch the pure surprise and excitement wash over his face, his smile stretching across his face as he stares back at you in awe.

“You want to sing it?”

Shyly, you nod your head and in a heartbeat his arms lock around you, pulling you into the tightest hug. The two of you almost fall off the stage, laughing together at his dramatic reaction.

“Of course we can sing it, Love. Would be an honor!”

Harry is quick to let the band know about the addition for tonight’s set and though everyone seems surprised, they are all supportive about your solo. As the time goes and the concert gets closer, you can feel the nerves building up and soon enough, you start to doubt your choice to sing the song tonight.

Right before it’s time to go on stage Harry takes your hand and pulls you aside, taking your face in his hands gently, making you look into his eyes.

“I know you are doubting yourself, but just know that I’m very proud of you, even if you decide to not sing the last minute.”

“I could do that?” you whisper, your hands finding his sides and you let them rest on him, a way to ground yourself in the windwhirl of your thoughts.

“Of course. I wouldn’t want to make you do something you don’t really want. Though I know you will be amazing if you choose to sing.”

Nodding you let a weak smile appear on your lips and you notice as his eyes flicker down to them before he moves his gaze up to your eyes. He then pulls you into a proper hug before walking back to the rest of the band and vocalists.

Everything goes as usual and once again, you can’t take your eyes off Harry on the stage. Just watching him perform fills you up with life, enough to keep you from running away. About halfway into the set, as the crowd is still cheering after the previous song, Harry jogs over to you.

“You ready?” he asks over the noise and before you could think about it, you nod your head.

Two guys from the crew pushes the piano further to the front and they help to set everything up as you awkwardly stand at the side. Once your mic is in the stand you walk over there, heart hammering in your chest, hands shaking like crazy.

“I have a special song for you tonight,” Harry announces into the microphone as he makes his way over to the piano. “Please welcome the lovely Y/N here, who is gonna enchant you with a song we’ve been working on lately.”

The crowd screams and you allow yourself to look around with a weak smile. So many people, you think to yourself, everyone watching you.

“It’s called Homesick, and it means so much to us, so we hope you’ll like it Justas much as we do,” Harry adds before settling on the bench and his eyes find yours. “I’m proud of you,” you see him say, only able to read his lips since the crowd is screaming so loud. “Ready?” he asks and you nod, taking a shaky breath.

He sends you a warm comforting smile before glancing down at the keys and then he starts playing. 

Just like the first time, you close your eyes, forcing yourself to focus on the melody and nothing else. The lump in your throat is quite uncomfortable, but you open your eyes and see that Harry is looking straight at you, nodding in encouragement, as his fingers push down the keys to the notes right before you have to start.

“Here, where the sky’s falling, I’m covered in blue, I’m running and I’m crawling, fighting for you…”

Harry smiles wide when your voice flows through the speakers, filling the whole place, making everyone go quiet in a heartbeat as the song carries on. You feel your chest slowly deflating, the nerves cooling down with each sung note.

“You give me a reason, something to believe in, I know, I know, I know. You give me a meaning, something I can breathe in, I know, I know, I know…”

The chorus comes out perfect, your voice melting together with the piano and you finally feel your muscles relax as you slowly let go of every toxic thought that’s been tainting your mind. Harry leans closer to his microphone and his voice gently joins yours in the next verse.

“There’s a crack in my window, a bird in my room, angels all over that watch over you…”

Chills run down your spine hearing his voice, your eyes never leaving his gaze that’s fixated on your standing figure. You get lost in him and the song, something that came from the both of you, a piece of you and him. Standing there, singing this piece makes you feel closer to him than ever and you desperately want this feeling to last forever, hoping the song never ends though you know it’s gonna happen.

“When I’m walking on water all my dreams have come true. Still nothing means nothing without you…”

Homesick is exactly the feeling that bubbles inside you when you think of Harry. Because there’s this man you love so much, who is a home away from home to you, yet you still feel like you can’t be home entirely. Not in the way you’d want to. But standing on the stage in the spotlight, singing together with him as thousands of people are watching the two of you, yet you still manage to forget about them, for a moment, you feel like you finally arrived home. You are there, with him.

“Tell my heart to lie, but I know deep inside it’s true. That I wish I was there with you. That I wish I was there with you, oh I wish I was there with you.”

He plays the end of the song without tearing his eyes away from you, and there’s just a heartbeat of silence before the crowd starts screaming deafeningly, but that short moment… is yours and his.

Tugging your hair behind your ears with your shaky hands, your eardrums on the verge of breaking as you let out a laugh that was kind of a sob as well, relief washing over your body. Harry is quick to jump to his feet and rushing over he envelopes you in a tight hug.

“I’m so so so proud of you, Love. You were everything!” he mumbles, arms holding you so tight you almost lose your breath, but you want him this close, or even closer. You need to feel him, because it doesn’t feel real. His hold brings you a sense of existence only he can give you.

“Thank you, Harry,” you breathe out when he pulls back to look into your eyes, the screaming hasn’t died down even a tad little.

“No, thank you, Darling. You shined like the star that you are,” he grins, playing a sloppy kiss to your cheek before his arms fall off you.

You’d die to stay in this moment a little longer, but the show must go on. The crew pushes the piano back and soon enough, the next song starts. You stay in your spot for the rest, but you keep catching Harry smiling in your way, always making you blush.

The end of a concert is always a little hectic, everyone is all over the place. Still coming off the high you just experienced, you head to the dressing room you share with the other vocalists. They are going on and on about how amazing Homesick was, and you somehow still can’t believe tonight happened. Packing your stuff you barely notice that the door flies open, but you see Harry appear from the corner of your eye.

“Ladies, would you please give me a moment with Y/N?” he asks and the girls are quick to leave the two of you alone. You stand there, kind of dumbfounded, not sure why he is acting so dramatic. Once the door closes and it’s just you and him, he stares at you, chest heaving, his hair wet from his sweat, but he still looks breathtaking.

“Harry—“

“I’m gonna kiss you now,” he cuts you off, your breath gets caught in your throat as you stare back at him, completely frozen. Opposite to what he just said, he remains standing in the same spot and you’re not sure what’s happening. “Can I? Please say yes, I can’t hold myself back for any longer,” he then adds.

“Yes,” you breathe out without even thinking about it. In a heartbeat, Harry crosses the room, chest smashing against yours as he wraps his arms around you, lips crashing onto yours in a kiss that almost makes you moan into his mouth.

It’s all a hot mess, teeth clashing, hands all over each other before his palms run down to the back of your thighs, urging you to jump. When you do, you wrap your legs around his waist and let him walk over to the table nearby, so he can place you on top, standing between your thighs as he keeps kissing you hungrily, his tongue melting together with yours in this sweet chaos. It keeps going on and on, neither of you wanting to let go of the other, but you are eventually forced to stop, coming short of air. Panting wildly, lips swollen from his kisses, you look at him to meet his gaze.

“You have no idea how hard it was to stop myself from kissing you on stage.”

“What?” you breathe out.

“Y/N, I’m fucking crazy about you and seeing you come over your stage fright, sing that song… our song, fuck, that did some unbelievable things to me. Please tell me you felt the same thing!” He is begging, not just with his words, but with his eyes as well and it crushes your soul entirely.

“I did. Harry, I always do when I’m with you.”

“Fucking Hell,” he breathes out before kissing you again. “You are… everything, Love,” he mumbles against your lips and you can’t push down the smile stretching across your face, hearing him say the same words he said right after the song.

“You’ve told me that,” you tease him, his gaze meeting yours as he flashes you his famous half-smirk, heart fluttering at the sight of him.