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transform4u · 3 months

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Mirror, Mirror on the wall...

Dylan, 32 years old and a rising star in the world of journalism, had finally achieved his big break after years of hard work. Now, he enjoyed a comfortable six-figure income, residing in a stylish one-bedroom apartment overlooking a serene park on Chicago's west side. He was known for his easygoing nature, a friendly demeanor, and a contagious laugh that invited others into his world. Dylan took pride in his caring disposition, always looking out for his friends and partners.

Despite his contentment, one persistent annoyance nagged at him: a particular guy on Grindr who seemed relentless in his pursuit. This individual, far from Dylan's type, exuded a flamboyance that clashed with Dylan's more reserved personality. His profile picture, donned in drag, irked Dylan every time it appeared on his screen. Yet, amidst his success and popularity, Dylan prided himself on being his own person—not conforming to stereotypes, but embodying a cool, composed image that he meticulously cultivated.

After a long day at work followed by a rigorous gym session, Dylan returned home to unwind. Just as he settled in, his phone buzzed unexpectedly with a message on Instagram—not from his friend Kyle about their usual happy hour plans, but from the persistent Grindr user. Irritated yet intrigued by the message's tone, Dylan hesitated before reluctantly opening it.

"Hey Dylan. It's clear now that you don't want to date me. And I'm totally fine with that. Maybe you think you're too hot or too cool or whatever to date me. But you've only lived one life. Hah. That's gonna change."

A doorbell interrupted his thoughts, drawing Dylan to the front door where a package wrapped in vibrant red packaging lay waiting. Curiosity overcame him as he brought it inside and unwrapped it, revealing a mirror shaped like a melting heart. Puzzled by its arrival and wondering if he had made a drunken purchase, Dylan decided to hang it on his wall despite its mismatch with his usual decor.

Upon hanging the mirror, Dylan discovered a small letter tucked within. Reading it aloud, he found himself drawn into an impulsive act—reciting the mirror's enchantment aloud, inviting a change he could not have anticipated.

Dylan stood in front of the mirror, mesmerized and slightly apprehensive, as the first effects of his impulsive incantation began to take hold. The air around him crackled with an electric energy, a sensation he could only describe as a tingling wave coursing through his entire body. It started subtly, a faint tremor in his muscles, like a dormant power awakening. He read a note:

"Dearest Dylan. I'm so happy you decided to hang up my mirror. I know how much you love to look at yourself. Hah. Well. Look deep into the mirror. And soon you love life will change. It's a going to be wicked fun. Just look at the mirror on the wall and speak aloud the following words…

Mirror, Mirror on the wall. Give me a life to be hated by all. Mirror, Mirror my face looking back at me. Give me the personality of someone I'd hate to be. Mirror, Mirror show my worst self. Mirror, Mirror change thyself" As he spoke the words aloud. The paper fell from my hands and the mirror glowed and glowed almost incasing my entire room. What had he done?

At first, Dylan relished the transformation. He watched in awe as his reflection morphed before his eyes. Muscles tightened and expanded, sculpting his physique into something that mirrored the fitness models he had admired in magazines. His abs became chiseled, arms bulged with newfound definition, and his biceps swelled with strength. It was exhilarating; a validation of the hours he had spent at the gym, honing his body to perfection.

But as the changes intensified, doubts crept into Dylan's mind. His initial thrill gave way to a growing unease. He remembered the words he had spoken to the mirror: **"Give me the personality of someone I'd hate to be."** Panic simmered beneath his skin as he realized the gravity of his request.

The mirror, now glowing ominously, seemed to reflect not just his physical transformation, but something deeper—an alteration of his essence. His reflection's smirk deepened, its eyes gleaming with a knowing malice. "Oh, I'm going to enjoy this," the mirror whispered, its voice echoing with an otherworldly resonance that sent shivers down Dylan's spine.

As the transformation continued, Dylan felt an unnatural confidence surging through him, mingled with an unsettling arrogance. His once warm and inviting laugh took on a haughty edge. His friendly demeanor hardened into a dismissive smirk, and his generous spirit twisted into selfish impulses. The very traits he had prided himself on—kindness, empathy, humility—began to erode, replaced by a cold, calculating demeanor that he barely recognized.

Despite his growing discomfort, Dylan found himself unable to tear his gaze away from the mirror. It was as though he was watching a collision of his idealized self and his deepest fears, all brought to life by his reckless words. The mirror's reflection taunted him, mocking the person he was becoming.

In that moment of realization, Dylan knew he had to undo what he had set in motion. But the mirror held him captive, its eerie glow pulsating with an irresistible power. As he struggled against the creeping darkness within him, Dylan's heart sank with the weight of regret.

What had he done? And how could he ever return to the person he once was?

As Dylan wrestled with the unsettling changes in his demeanor, the transformation took an unexpected turn. The electric waves that had initially expanded his muscles began to reverse course. He felt a strange sensation of compression, as if his body was shrinking down, compacting itself while retaining the newfound strength and definition.

His arms, once bulging with exaggerated muscles, now tightened into a more refined and compact form. The exaggerated bulk softened, the lines of his physique becoming sleeker yet still maintaining a toned athleticism. Dylan's abs, previously sharp and defined, now settled into a leaner but no less impressive configuration. The transformation seemed to redefine his physical presence, sculpting him into a different ideal—a more compact, agile version of the muscular figure he had momentarily embodied. At first, Dylan didn't realize what was happening. His focus had been on the muscular changes wrought by the mirror's magic. But then, he noticed it: a gradual shrinking, a diminishment of his stature. Inch by inch, Dylan's height decreased, each moment bringing him closer to the ground until he stood at a diminutive 5 foot 4.

As his body underwent this metamorphosis, Dylan's skin tone deepened into a rich, bronzed tan. It was a stark departure from his natural complexion, now radiating with a sun-kissed glow that seemed to intensify under the mirror's eerie illumination. The mirror's magic continued to work its unsettling effects, altering not just his appearance but seemingly his very essence.

Dylan's gaze flickered down in shock as he noticed his shirt melting away, replaced by a garish gold chain draped around his neck. The chain, ostentatious and gaudy, clashed starkly against the more subdued attire he had preferred. It gleamed in the dim light of his apartment, a visible manifestation of the transformation's shift towards a persona he neither recognized nor desired.

The realization hit him hard. What had begun as a frivolous experiment had spiraled into something far more profound and irreversible. His reflection in the mirror now bore the mark of someone he might have once scorned—an exaggerated caricature of confidence bordering on arrogance, adorned with symbols of material excess that clashed with his previous understated elegance.

Fear and regret coursed through Dylan's veins as he struggled to comprehend the depth of the mirror's power. The once-inviting mirror now seemed to taunt him with each passing moment, its glow pulsating with a malevolent energy that mirrored the darker facets of his altered personality.

As he stood before the mirror, trapped in a transformation he couldn't control, Dylan's thoughts raced. How could he undo this? Was there any way to revert to the person he had been before his ill-advised invocation? With each passing second, the answer seemed to slip further from his grasp, swallowed by the insatiable hunger of the mirror's magic.

As the transformation continued, Dylan's mind began to fog up. His once-sharp intellect was dulled by a sudden influx of base desires and primal urges. The mirror's magic had not only altered his physical appearance but also rewired his brain, stripping away any semblance of rational thought or empathy he once possessed.

In its place grew an insatiable lust for women—their curves, their scents, their soft skin against his own hardened form. He found himself fixated on images of bikini-clad models and celebrities with impossibly large breasts and tight asses. His gaze lingered on every woman who crossed his path, imagining what it would be like to possess them in the most carnal sense possible.

His thoughts were no longer focused on intellectual pursuits or meaningful relationships; instead, they revolved around parties filled with alcohol and drugs where he could indulge in casual sex without consequence or commitment. The idea of settling down with one person seemed foreign to him now—a concept that held no appeal whatsoever in this new reality where pleasure was fleeting but easily attainable through superficial means alone.

Dylan's once-passionate love for men had been reduced to nothing more than a distant memory as he embraced this newfound heterosexuality wholeheartedly (or rather whole-mindedly). He found himself drawn towards masculine traits such as strength and dominance over feminine ones like sensitivity or emotional depth—qualities that were now deemed weaknesses by his transformed mindset.

As the transformation continued, Dylan's mind was flooded with more fuckboy thoughts. He found himself laughing along with the reflection in the mirror, which seemed to be enjoying his descent into shallow superficiality.

His flaws and memories began to change as well. His once-kind nature was replaced by a selfish and entitled attitude; he now believed that he deserved whatever he wanted without considering others' feelings or needs. His intelligence had been reduced to a basic understanding of popular culture and trends, leaving him unable to engage in meaningful conversations beyond small talk or gossip about celebrities.

The mirror erased any memories of Dylan's past relationships—both platonic and romantic—replacing them with fantasies about scoring hot chicks at parties or picking up women at bars using cheesy pickup lines learned from watching reality TV shows like "The Bachelor." His once-loving personality had been completely erased, replaced by an insatiable desire for attention from anyone who could provide him with temporary gratification or validation through social media likes or compliments on his physique which now included muscular abs but also featured excessive tanning.

As the transformation continued, Dylan became as shallow as possible. He wanted nothing more than to bang a hot chick who would make him feel like a real man. The image in his mind was that of a blonde bombshell with big boobs, toned abs, and an ass that wouldn't quit. She had to be tall enough for him to feel dominant over her but also petite enough for him to easily lift her off the ground during their passionate encounters.

Her personality didn't matter; all he cared about was how she looked on his arm at parties or how good she would be in bed (preferably multiple times throughout the night). He envisioned himself taking her out for expensive dinners before whisking her away to some exclusive club where they could dance until dawn while sipping champagne from flutes held aloft by waiters dressed in tuxedos.

The thought of waking up next to this perfect specimen of femininity filled Dylan with an almost primal desire—a need so strong it eclipsed any lingering traces of empathy or compassion he once possessed.

With his newfound confidence and shallow desires, Dylan mindlessly walked towards the nearest bar. He knew he would find plenty of women there who would be interested in someone like him—a tall, muscular guy with money to burn and a cocky attitude to match.

As he entered the dimly lit room filled with people drinking and dancing, his eyes immediately scanned for potential targets. Spotting a group of girls at one end of the bar, he made his way over without hesitation or any thought about being polite or respectful.

"Hey ladies," he said loudly enough for them all to hear as he slid onto an empty stool next to them, "what's up?" His tone was crude but laced with false charm as if this was something he did every night instead of being completely out of character for him just moments ago.

The woman he had addressed turned towards him, her eyes narrowing slightly as she took in his appearance. "Not much," she replied curtly before turning back towards her friends and continuing their conversation.

Undeterred by her lack of interest, Dylan leaned closer to the group and spoke directly to the woman again. "So what brings you girls out tonight?" He flashed a fake smile that revealed a row of perfectly white teeth now slightly yellowed from too much alcohol consumption over the years.

The woman rolled her eyes but didn't respond right away, instead choosing to ignore him completely while sipping on her drink nonchalantly.

Feeling emboldened by his new persona, Dylan reached out and grabbed the woman's ass without hesitation or consent. She let out a surprised gasp but didn't move away as he expected her to do. Instead, she turned towards him with a look of amusement in her eyes that made his heart race faster than it had in years.

"Well aren't you just full of surprises?" she said playfully before taking another sip from her drink. "I must admit, I wasn't expecting someone like you to hit on me tonight."

Dylan grinned widely at this small victory, feeling more confident than ever before as he ordered himself another round at the bar while keeping one eye on the group of women across from him.

As the night wore on, Dylan found himself growing more conservative and homophobic. His new persona seemed to thrive on these negative traits, embracing them as part of his identity. He began making crude jokes about gay people, laughing along with his friends at the expense of anyone who didn't fit into their narrow definition of masculinity.

His once-open mind had closed itself off completely, leaving no room for empathy or understanding towards those different from him. Instead, he focused all his energy on maintaining an image that would impress others—a tough guy who wasn't afraid to speak his mind even if it meant hurting someone else's feelings in the process.

Looking into the mirror, Dylan saw a reflection of himself that he barely recognized. Gone was the thoughtful, kind-hearted man he once was; in his place stood Austin—a tall, muscular straight fuckboy with a cocky attitude and an insatiable desire for women.

Austin's hair had grown out slightly longer but still maintained its sleekness thanks to regular trips to the barber. His eyes were now darker and more intense, reflecting his newfound confidence and willingness to take risks without considering consequences or others' feelings. His clothing consisted of designer labels that screamed "money" while showing off just enough skin to be considered tasteful by those who shared similar tastes as him.

Fuckboy Austin was the perfect embodiment of shallow, straight masculinity. He had an impressive physique thanks to hours spent at the gym each week, but he didn't let it go to his head—he knew he could always do better. His wardrobe consisted of expensive designer clothes that fit him perfectly, showing off his toned abs and broad shoulders while remaining tasteful enough for any upscale event or club scene.

His personality was just as well-crafted as his appearance; he had a cocky attitude that made women swoon but also came across as arrogant when dealing with others who didn't meet his high standards for attractiveness or success. He loved nothing more than hitting on beautiful women at bars and clubs before taking them home for a night filled with passionate sex followed by morning-after regrets on their part, which only served to fuel Austin's ego even further.

Fuckboy Austin lived a life filled with meaningless hookups, expensive nights out at clubs, and endless self-improvement efforts to maintain his perfect physique. He spent hours each day at the gym, lifting weights and running on treadmills while listening to motivational speeches on his headphones. His diet consisted mainly of protein shakes and pre-workout supplements that he believed gave him an edge over other guys trying to score with the same women as him.

Austin was also quite popular on social media platforms like Instagram and TikTok where he shared videos of himself flexing in front of mirrors or giving workout tips for those looking to get into shape themselves. His follower count continued growing daily thanks largely in part due to his good looks but also because many found inspiration in seeing someone so dedicated towards achieving physical perfection.

As far as hobbies went, Austin didn't have any real interests outside of working out or picking up chicks at bars; however, this lack of depth didn't seem bother him much since it allowed him more time focus solely on improving himself physically instead wasting energy pursuing meaningful relationships or intellectual pursuits.

Fuckboy Austin's life revolved around one thing: himself. He spent every waking moment thinking about how he could improve his appearance, his social status, or his chances with the latest hot girl who had caught his eye. His days were filled with trips to the gym followed by hours spent on social media, where he would post pictures of himself flexing or posing in front of mirrors while wearing nothing but a pair of tight briefs.

His nights were even more action-packed as he would hit up various clubs and bars looking for new conquests to add to his ever-growing list of notches on his bedpost. He had no qualms about using cheesy pickup lines or playing mind games with women just so they would give him their numbers or agree to go home with him later that night. Once he had secured a willing partner (or two), Austin would shower them with compliments and gifts before taking them back home for an evening filled with passionate sex followed by morning-after regrets on their part (which only served as fuel for Austin's already massive ego).

Despite all this success, there was still something missing from Fuckboy Austin's life—a sense of purpose beyond superficial pleasures like material possessions and casual encounters. Deep down inside, he knew that there must be more out there than just endless parties and meaningless hookups; however, those thoughts were quickly pushed aside whenever another beautiful woman crossed paths with him at some trendy nightclub.

#gay to straight #fuckboy tf #transformation #male tf

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mint-yooxgi · 2 years

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{2} - Hotel California - Yandere!Demonic Entities!Ateez X Reader

Yandere AU & Demon AU - Based off of This ask and Hotel California by Eagles

Genre: Mature, Horror, Angst, Slight Humor

Pairing: Ateez X Reader (Slight focus on Yeosang & Jongho this chapter)

Words: 9,536

Warnings: Mental Illness: talks of depression, suicide and suicidal thoughts. OC gets angry a lot. A mug gets thrown at someone’s head. Slut shaming, but not done by any of the guys. This is a Yandere story, it will contain themes such as stalking, violence, obsession, possessive natures, and just general overall creepiness and swearing. You have been warned.

A/n: Surprise bitches!!! Guess who’s back, back again!!! Early update for you all since I wanted to post it and I like where I ended it. Definitely expect more parts coming out, I have a lot planned for this, especially with little interactions between each of the guys and the OC in the future. Hehehe, I hope you enjoy!! As always, feedback is greatly appreciated! I hope you look forward to the rest of whatever this series has to offer~

Main Story - Part Three

The first few days after that one fateful evening, you were a mess. Your mind was all over the place, yet at other times, completely silent. Any attempt to wrap your head around the situation you currently found yourself in resulted in either tears of hopelessness, of frustration, or you screaming your lungs out for them to let you go.

Then, came the silence. The deadly calm as the weight of the situation finally sunk in.

It happened only once, and the thought had only crossed your mind for a brief second, but it was enough to have all eight of them appearing in your room immediately. Worry was clear on all of their faces, but not only that, panic was as well. The thought of losing you, after finally having you with them after all this time, after all of their meticulous planning, had a fear unlike any other washing over them.

You had yelled at them then, screamed at them with a burning fire in your eyes as they crowded you. They needed to let you breathe. The constant checking up on you, asking if you were going to be okay was really grating on your nerves.

At least you knew they cared. At least what they told you, about only wanting what’s best for you, about wanting to love and cherish you all seemed to be true.

There was no doubt about it, not when San would bring you your favourite meals almost every day just to make sure you had eaten something. The first few times were a bit annoying, seeing as how he wouldn’t leave you alone until you had at least a few bites of food, but at least he knew you were eating.

Similarly, Mingi would always make sure you had a fresh jug of water in your room. Every day, he would make sure you drank at least two full glasses to keep yourself hydrated, making you whatever other drinks you wanted when you wanted them. Unless you were planning to get yourself drunk. Then he wouldn’t exactly comply with your wishes.

Jongho would offer to read to you to take your mind off of things, but you’ve still yet to accept his offer. He would pout, but place whatever book he brought with him on your nightstand, at least giving you something to do to take your mind off of things for a while. An escape, if only briefly, that would give you some semblance of normalcy after being thrown into a world unlike any other.

Yunho and Wooyoung would always attempt to cheer you up in any and every way they knew how. Their antics, unfortunately for you, would sometimes work, unable to stop yourself from cracking a small smile at their banter back and forth, or some stupid joke they would tell you in attempts to make you laugh.

Yeosang was probably the most respectful out of giving you the privacy you so desperately craved, except when you would start thinking about when you needed or wanted something. Then he would be the first one to appear with said item held in his hands, bringing you ice cream more often than not in the middle of the night when you were truly feeling sorry for yourself and the situation you found yourself in. He always lingered for a bit, silently hoping you would ask him to stay and comfort you, but you never did. Honestly, it was probably for the best, anyways. They all were probably the last people you really wanted to see at this point in time.

Still, you refused to so much as even look at Seonghwa or Hongjoong. Each time they passed by your room to check up on you, you would pointedly ignore them, curling in on yourself until they would sigh deeply and finally leave you alone.

Two weeks later, and you decide that you’ve had enough. Finally, it’s time to stop feeling sorry for yourself, and take whatever control you can back of your own life. No more wasting your days alone, in the dark, with only self-pity to keep yourself company. If they truly intend to put their money where their mouths are, then you’re going to test that every chance you get. After all, if they are ready and willing to do anything and everything for you to prove to you how much they truly love and care for you, how much they want - need - you in their lives, then you’re going to make them prove themselves to you.

Perhaps you hold more power in this situation than you originally thought.

Letting out a sigh, you allow your mind to go blank, humming a small tune to yourself as you toss the covers off of your legs. First things first, you really need a bath. Perhaps some self-love and personal care will end up going a long way.

Sinking into the warmth of the frothing bubbles, you hum. Again, the calming scent of lilac and honey drifts through your nostrils, the water serving to relax your tense muscles and soothe your mind. You figure you’re going to need all the rest you can get in the next twenty or so minutes as you prepare yourself for what you’re about to do.

Sure enough, twenty minutes later and you’ve finished washing up, dried yourself off, and changed into a fresh pair of clothes. Briefly, you shoot a tense smile at yourself in the mirror, mentally preparing yourself for what you’re sure is going to be a shitstorm as soon as you step outside of your room.

Turning towards the door, you take a few cautious steps forward. Taking a deep breath, you turn the handle, exiting these four walls that you have familiarized yourself with over the past two weeks. Finally, after hiding yourself away for so long, wallowing in your own thoughts, you step outside the room, crossing the threshold into the hallway and feeling as if you’re stepping into a new life. Which, in reality, you are.

As soon as your foot enters the hallway, both Yeosang and Jongho are in front of you, Wooyoung following close behind. The three of them watch you carefully, worried that you might try to do something rash, like attempting to sprint past them and run for the exit again.

You tried it. Once. The first night when everything happened. They watched you sprint right past them, still wearing that gorgeous gown, and practically fling yourself out of the front doors. Only, as soon as you left through one door, it’s like you were entering back through the other.

A looping entrance. A simple spell, or rather, curse in your mind. Every time you attempted to run out of the front door, you found yourself sprinting back through the entrance, a frustrated look on your face as a feeling of hopelessness washed over you.

That was the final snap to your sanity which landed you in such a state of limbo for the past two weeks. You’re just glad you managed to pull yourself out of it.

When you meet their gaze, you make no sign of acknowledgement. They cannot hear any thoughts of you wanting to escape running through your head for the moment. The only thought they can hear, is a constant repeating of you wanting some coffee.

“Where-“ Jongho takes a step forwards before halting right in his tracks as you raise a hand to stop him.

“No.” Your pointer finger is raised as if to say ‘hold on a moment’, making sure to keep a safe distance away from all of them as you look into each of their eyes. “Just follow.”

As soon as you turn to start walking down the hallway, Mingi appears before you, a steaming cup of coffee held in his hands. Wordlessly, he hands it to you, and you meet his gaze for only a moment.

A curt nod is all he receives as you take the mug from his hands, sipping on the warm liquid. He swallows. At least it’s better than nothing.

What’s going on? Hongjoong’s voice echoes through all of their heads, a tinge of worry to his words.

We don’t know, but at least she’s out of her room. Yeosang replies, following silently behind you as you begin to lead them down the hallway.

She’s out of her room? San’s voice is full of excited disbelief, and they can hear the clanging of a pan falling onto the ground coming from the direction of the kitchen before he’s appearing right next to Wooyoung just as they breach the lobby.

Yunho is the next to appear, having been walking down the opposite hallway at the time, monitoring your thoughts as soon as this commotion started. Her mind is blank.

Should we be worried? Jongho’s fingers twitch, itching to pull you into his arms and ask you what’s wrong. A thought he knows is echoing through all of their minds this very second.

The last time her mind was blank, she stabbed Hongjoong with a knife. Seonghwa reminds them, appearing in the lobby in the next second, a swatch of fabric still clutched in his hands.

She also tried jumping off of her balcony. So, let’s not forget that, either. Wooyoung says, worry lacing his tone.

I don’t think I could forget that even if I tried. Mingi shivers, recalling the panic he felt seizing his entire body when he walked in for your daily glass of water consumption to see you with one leg already hitched up on the ledge of your balcony. He’s just lucky he caught you in time before you could hurt yourself. Not that you would have gotten very far, anyways.

Reaching the main desk, you turn back around to face them, leaning back on the counter with the mug held in your hands. As soon as you raise your head, Hongjoong appears before you. Though, this time, instead of averting your gaze like he’s become so used to these past two weeks, you meet his eyes, and the intensity that he sees shining in your own has a pleasant shiver running down his spine.

The eight men all stand around you in a semi-circle, giving you enough space so that you do not feel crowded by them. Starting from your left, Jongho stands, followed by Yeosang, San, Hongjoong, Seonghwa, Yunho, Wooyoung, and then Mingi.

A moment of silence settles over all of them as they stare at you, waiting patiently for you to speak. Some - San, Wooyoung, Jongho, and Mingi - even find themselves holding their breaths in anticipation. Not that any of them particularly need to breathe…

“We need to talk.” Your first words to all eight of them in weeks, and they can only blink at you in shock. “I can’t do this anymore.”

Your words seem to snap them out of whatever daze that they’re in.

“You know we can’t let you go.” It’s Yunho who says it, and they watch as you turn your gaze to him.

Your eyes flash, a fire igniting behind your irises as you take a deep breath in.

“Jesus fucking Christ, I know.” You watch as they all visibly flinch at your words, but you continue anyways. “For five minutes, I would like to not be reminded of my own helplessness right now. Thank you very much.”

This time, they grimace, having the audacity to look somewhat ashamed of themselves. At least, San, Jongho, and Mingi do.

“Look,” you sigh, bringing your one hand up to pinch the bridge of your nose. “I’m tired. I’m tired of feeling sorry for myself. I’m tired of feeling like I’m trapped here, and that I have nothing to do. More than all of that, I’m fucking tired of letting myself fall back into old habits. Bad habits. I do not need to go back to feeling exactly as I did during the darkest part of my life.”

They can all hear the way your breath hitches, voice straining with the emotion of your words.

“We didn’t know-“

“Of course you didn’t! You don’t know anything about me!” You cut Mingi off, your anger rolling off of you in waves as you glare at them. The mug of coffee is clutched so tightly in your hand that you’re surprised it doesn’t break. “Do you even know how I felt at the lowest point of my life?”

Even though the question is rhetorical, you can sense that they want to respond. You can just tell that, no, they do not know how you felt because they weren’t there. However, you bet the very air you breathe that they’re dying to figure it out. Probably about to probe your mind for those memories. Memories that are painted with the darkest parts of your soul; moments in which you felt the most empty, the least in control of your life.

“I know you all want to know, but it doesn’t work like that.” You say, shaking your head in disbelief. “You don’t get to shift through my memories whenever you damn well please. None of you deserve that privilege. None of you deserve to know me, especially not like that.”

“We just want to understand,” San reasons, a pleading look in his eyes.

“You want to understand?” You throw his words back at him with a voice of disbelief. “Fine.” You huff out a breath. “I can’t believe I’m doing this, but here’s a little glimpse into the second worst night of my life.”

It happens so suddenly, that all of them are inhaling sharply as images fill their heads. In an instant, each are overcome by the exact same emotions you felt - grief, anger, disappointment, loneliness - that their senses get overwhelmed. So much so, that Jongho, Wooyoung, and Yunho have to steady themselves on their feet as your memory washes over them.

And that wasn’t even your worst night.

Just as quickly as it started, the memory gets cuts off, all eight of their gazes fixating on you in a moment. You can just feel the way they’re looking at you right now, and you hate it. Especially when Yeosang, San, and Hongjoong all take a cautious step towards you, each wanting to comfort you in their own way.

“I didn’t do this for pity, and don’t any of you dare feel any gratitude for what I just showed you. You know nothing.” You resist the urge to slam the mug down on the front desk, opting to take a few deep breaths and gently place it on top of the counter instead. You turn back to face them with another deep sigh. “Look, if this is going to work, there are some things I need from you all. Do you understand?”

A light begins to shine behind their eyes, heartbeats increasing as hope floods through their veins. Even though you basically just told them not to, they all cannot help but to feel that you sharing that memory with them meant something. No matter how insignificant, you trusted them for a brief moment, and they sure as hell will not let it go to waste, nor will they ever forget this.

Is she saying what I think she’s saying right now? Wooyoung’s eager voice echoes through their minds.

“This doesn’t mean I’ve accepted this,” you motion around the general vicinity with your hand, narrowing your eyes slightly at the eight men before you, “or any of you. I simply have some conditions of my own so I don’t end up like that again.”

Mingi’s, San’s, Yunho’s, and Wooyoung’s shoulders all drop, while the other four do their best to look unaffected by your words. Still, it doesn’t mean they won’t try. It doesn’t mean that you haven’t just given them all hope.

“Anything,” Seonghwa breathes, clinging onto that piece of fabric in his hands for dear life.

Your one eyebrow twitches upwards, meeting gazes with him briefly, as you cross your arms in front of your chest. Leaning further back onto the counter, you nod to yourself.

“I want my phone back.”

You can practically see the protests building on their lips, so you cut them off before they get a chance to speak.

“Listen,” you begin, “you’ve said it yourselves: I’m in your domain. I don’t even know if there’s service here, and who the fuck would believe me if I told them about the situation I’m in. I’m pretty sure I’ve already lost my job for up and disappearing out of the blue, and I’m sure my family is probably worried sick about me. Let me contact them to tell them I’m okay, so they at least get closure for however long I’m going to be stuck here for. I don’t want my parents thinking I’m dead.”

“That’s all you want your phone for?” Yeosang asks, slight disbelief coating his words.

“Of course not.” You huff out a laugh. “I need some source of serotonin. I want my phone so I can do all the things I usually do on it. Minus a few things, of course. I need some sense of normalcy back in my life.”

“How do we know we can trust you?” Yunho speaks once more, crossing his own arms in front of his chest.

“That’s rich, considering I should be asking you that.” You match his tone. “Besides, I’m pretty sure you all can hear whatever I’m about to do through my thoughts, anyways. There is a severe lack of privacy there, but put it this way. How do you expect me to trust you if you can’t trust me? It’ll have to be an effort on all of our parts to make this work.”

There’s a hint of worry in your tone, the slightest bit of fear hinted at in the way your shoulders tense ever so slightly as you look at them. Even without your thoughts, they can see the uncertainty radiating off of you towards them. Truly, it pains them to no end.

“You know we would never hurt you,” Mingi says, his voice soft as it cuts through the tension suddenly filling the lobby.

“We promised that we would protect you,” Hongjoong adds, just as tenderly as he watches you with a gentle gaze.

Your eyes flash, “can you protect me from yourselves?”

Immediately, they all straighten, save for Seonghwa who takes a small step backwards as they all stare at you with wide eyes.

“We just told you that we would never hurt you.” Yeosang frowns.

“That’s not what I meant,” you shake your head. “There are many ways one can be hurt rather than just physical pain.” A thought flashes through your mind that has them all recoiling as if you’ve just mentally burned them. “Do you understand why I’ve been so terrified these past few weeks? I know nothing about who you are, or what you’re capable of. I bet you’ve only shown me the bare minimum of what each of you can do with these powers of yours. How do I know you’re all not just waiting for the prime opportunity to take advantage of me? How do I know I can trust you?”

“You think we would force ourselves on you?” Jongho’s voice comes out small, echoing the hurt and worry each of his brothers are feeling right this very moment.

Even though you say nothing, your gaze says it all. The uncertainty, the fear they can all see hiding within your eyes has their hearts feeling as if they are being suffocated. Never do they want you to think that they would do such a thing to you. Never do they want to have you look at them with such terror in your gaze again.

“Is this part of the reason why you’ve been hiding in your room this whole time?” Seonghwa voices, a hint of sadness tinging his words.

“We would never do such a thing.” Hongjoong states, eyes pleading for you to look at him, to see the sincerity shining in his gaze - in all of their gazes - but you refuse, averting your gaze to your feet. “Especially not to you.”

“I guess I’ll have to take your word for it.” Your lips tighten into a thin line as you give him a terse smile. “But if you ever break that promise, if any of you go back on your word,” you take the time to meet each of their eyes, squaring your shoulders as you do so to let them know how serious you are in this very moment, “I will never forgive you.”

None of them have to look into your mind to know the deadly truth that lingers in your words. The statement of fact that you have just uttered settles into their very core, echoing through their minds as they continue to stare at you, watching your every movement carefully as you take another shaky breath in.

Then, it’s as if a switch has flipped inside of you as you mentally tell yourself to calm down once more. You need to at least attempt to start trusting them, and they’ve given you no reason to think otherwise. Yet.

“So,” you raise a brow, “my phone.”

Immediately, Hongjoong makes your phone appear, holding it in his hand. Just as he goes to hand it back to you, he pulls it away and out of your reach. You frown.

“You can have your phone back on one condition.” He says.

“What?” You ask him expectantly.

“Change your lockscreen.”

You simply look at him, incredulously. Your mouth parts slightly in shock as a mental image of what you remember to be your lockscreen flashes in your mind. Like hell are you going to change your favourite photo of your favourite male idol who managed to help you through the darkest part of your life in his own way, even if he doesn’t know it. Of course, you do not fail to miss the way that all eight men tense around you, the jealousy clear on all of their faces.

You huff out a breath. “Do you really think you’re in any position to be telling me what I can and can’t do with my own belongings?”

“Then I guess you don’t want your phone back that badly, do you?” There’s a teasing lilt to his voice as he quirks a brow, his eyes shining with that tint of jealousy as he holds your phone just out of your reach.

“I could go back to completely ignoring your existence, if that’s what you want.” You deadpan, eyes narrowing as you watch him visibly stiffen at your words.

Only Seonghwa truly knows exactly what that feels like right alongside Hongjoong, so he offers the younger a comforting hand placed on his shoulder. Neither of them want to experience that again. They would rather spend twenty years in the arctic, buried beneath the snow than have you go back to pretending that they do not exist.

Though, Hongjoong cannot deny the sense of pleasure he experiences at knowing you can essentially go toe to toe with his remarks. Your wit truly is like no other. He loves that about you, he always has.

Wordlessly, he hands you your phone, and the relieved smile that paints your face makes it feel as if the whole room has just brightened. Truly, there is nothing like seeing you happy, and they will do anything and everything they can to please you, starting with this.

Tucking your dead phone into your back pocket for safe keeping, you lean back onto the counter, resting your palms against it for support.

“I also want my laptop back.” You say. “Same terms and conditions apply. Just let me have access to wifi again.”

This time, it’s Wooyoung who makes your laptop appear, holding it delicately in his hands as he passes it to you. Your lips quirk ever so slightly as you hug the piece of technology to your chest, mind already reeling with everything you need to catch up on.

“Okay,” you nod, unable to keep the relieved smile from tugging at your lips. “Okay. This is good.”

A small silence settles over all of you as they allow you to collect your thoughts. A tenseness that they didn’t realize they had all been holding in their bodies leaves them as they see you relax, even if only just the slightest. Faintly, grins tug at their lips.

Progress. They’re making progress.

“If I’m going to be living with you from now on,” you begin, “then I need to get some things from my apartment.”

“Whatever you need, we can grab for you.” Jongho says almost immediately after you finish talking.

“No,” you retort, shifting your laptop to your left arm and cradling it like you would a baby. “I need to grab some things from my own apartment. I don’t care if you come with me, but I need to get my clothes.”

“Again, just tell us what you need and we’ll get it for you,” Mingi repeats the youngest’s words from only a moment ago.

“Nuh-uh,” you shake your head. “There is no way I am letting eight men pick and choose my own clothing for me, let alone my underwear.”

You fail to see the way Wooyoung’s lips twitch upwards in nervousness as the sound of tearing fabric reaches your ears. Immediately, your attention is on the man standing just to Hongjoong’s left, now holding two torn strips of cloth in his hands.

“See what I mean,” you gesture to Seonghwa who stands there, his chest rising and falling dramatically as he clutches onto the fabric held in his hands for dear life. “Keep it in your pants, Handsy.”

Seonghwa’s scowl only deepens when he hears Wooyoung laugh, his eyes flashing as he looks towards his younger brother. “That’s rich, coming from the one who already stole a pair.”

A silence so deadly settles around the lobby as you stiffen, your breath hitching in your throat as Seonghwa’s words register in your ears. Slowly, almost robotically, you turn your head to the right, staring directly at Wooyoung with a tense smile on your face as you blink. “What?”

“So, clearly, neither of you are going with her to get her clothes,” Yunho sighs, shaking his head.

“Hang on,” you practically slam your laptop onto the desk behind you before circling your hands around each other in front of your body in a rewind motion, “can we just backtrack here for a second.” You turn once more to look at Wooyoung. “What did you do to my panties?”

Wooyoung sucks on the inside of his cheek, his eyes looking everywhere but at you for the time being, “I don’t think you want to know.”

An image of your ruined panties flits through all of their minds as Wooyoung recalls the very last activity he remembers doing with them. Almost immediately, the seven of them groan, Yunho smacking the younger upside the head as Wooyoung chuckles.

Again, you smile tensely, your eyes blank as you watch Wooyoung rub at the back of his head right where Yunho has just smacked him. Honestly, it’s freaking them out how you appear so calm, tilting your head slightly as your eyes close and your mind goes blank, that forced smile still tugging at your lips.

Before any of them can react, you grab your empty coffee mug from the desk and fling it at Wooyoung’s head. Luckily, he manages to dodge in time, the sound of ceramic shattering against the floor behind him breaking the tense silence.

“For fuck’s sake, don’t take things that don’t belong to you!” You shout. “Especially if they’re mine!”

“Do you want them back?” He offers, holding his hands upwards as a sign of defence against your rage.

“No! I most certainly do not want them back after whatever the hell you did to them!” You fume, an image of burning whatever pair of underwear he stole flitting through your mind. “This is what I mean when I say I want privacy. I don’t want to have to worry about any of my other things going missing because of you guys.”

“And they won’t.” Hongjoong promises, shooting a pointed look at Wooyoung who just narrows his eyes in response at his leader. He knows they all would have done the exact same thing as he did if given the chance. Hell, Seonghwa even told him to ‘save some for the rest of us’, if he recalls correctly.

“I sure as hell hope not.” You retort, another sigh falling from your lips.

“Some of us will take you to get your things, soon,” Mingi voices, cutting the tension in the air.

“Good,” you nod. “I’d appreciate it.”

Turning slightly, you grab your laptop from the desk and tuck it under your arm once more. You turn back to face them.

“I can take you after you put your laptop back in your room and plug your phone in to charge,” Yunho offers, yet again reading your mind.

You shoot him a look. “I am not going anywhere with you until you learn to stop doing that.”

“Then who-“

“I’ll go with them,” you cut San off with a motion of your hand, pointing at both Jongho and Yeosang using two of your fingers. “They can take me.”

Jongho stands there, momentarily stunned as all six of his remaining brothers turn to look at both him and Yeosang. The elder of the two is just as shocked as the youngest is, though he’s simply better at hiding it. Though, Yeosang cannot help the smug grin that tugs on his lips as he sees you turn away, his brothers glaring at him with jealousy clear in their eyes.

“I’ll be back in a few minutes,” you say without so much as sparing a glance over your shoulder. “Then we can go.”

True to your word, it only takes you two minutes to make your way back to the lobby. Though, now that you take a closer look, it appears more as a grandiose foyer than a hotel lobby. In the back of your mind, you begin to wonder just how extravagant they made this place. Perhaps you’ll have to go exploring when you get back.

“Ready when you are,” Yeosang smiles at you, waiting off to the side with Jongho standing right beside him.

A simple nod of your head is all he receives in response, noticing how the other six stand off to the side. You nearly let out a huff at the way both Yunho and San stand with their arms crossed in front of their chests. Wooyoung, Mingi, and Seonghwa all wear slight pouts on their faces, though at least the eldest is better at hiding it that the others. Still, there is no mistaking the classic downturn of his lips. The only one who remains an anomaly to you is Hongjoong.

There he stands, eyes transfixed on you as his hands are shoved into his pockets. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say he almost looks unbothered. Only, you know that that isn’t the case. It’s moments like this where you wish you could read people’s minds just so that you could know what he’s thinking. Hongjoong smirks.

“Okay,” you say, turning back to the two men beside you. “Let’s go.”

You manage to take a few steps towards the front doors before you notice that they aren’t following you. You quirk a brow, seeing Jongho’s shoulders shaking in laughter.

“What are you doing?” Yeosang asks, having not moved a single inch.

“Heading to my car. What does it look like I’m doing?” You shoot him an incredulous look.

“Oh, no, we’re not taking a car.” Jongho says, closing the distance between the two of you in a few strides. “Hold on tight.”

“Wha-“ before you can even protest, he’s wrapping an arm around your waist and transporting the two of you to your apartment.

As soon as your living room comes into view, you’re stumbling out of his arms. Your head spins as you see Yeosang appear from thin air right before your very eyes. Blinking a few times, your one hand comes up to cradle the side of your head, nausea building in your chest.

“Fucking hell, Jongho, you can’t just do that to her for the first time,” Yeosang is immediately in front of you, helping to guide you into sitting down on your sofa. “She’s never jumped before.”

Concern is written all over Jongho’s face as he comes to kneel before you. Though, only Yeosang can hear how smug the youngest is right now. Of course he just had to be the first one to wrap you in his arms and transport you here. It’s not like Yeosang wanted to have that privilege, or anything.

“Are you okay?” Jongho asks softly as you notice Yeosang dart off into your kitchen, appearing not even thirty seconds later with a glass of water held in his hand.

“Yeah,” you brush him off, accepting the glass with a small nod in thanks before taking a sip. “Just a warning would be nice, next time.”

“I did tell you to hold on tight,” Jongho chuckles, receiving a smack upside the head from Yeosang. “Ow.”

“Do you want to freak her out again?” Yeosang reprimands, clicking his tongue as he shakes his head.

“Relax,” you shoot Yeosang a look. “I appreciate the concern, but I’m fine.”

Both males simply quirk their brows at you in response, Jongho getting back to his feet in the next moment.

“How did you even know where my apartment was, anyways?” You stare at them expectantly, the worst already flitting through your mind as you take another sip of water.

“I don’t think you’ll believe us when we say this is our first time stepping foot in your apartment.” Yeosang replies, casually making himself at home and sitting in the recliner closest to you on the couch.

Your eyebrows raise, placing your glass onto the side table. “Stepping foot in my apartment? What does that even mean?”

“It means,” Jongho begins with a giddy smile, sitting down on the sofa beside you and casually throwing an arm to rest behind you on the back of the couch, “we’ve never actually physically been here before.”

“How exactly does that work?” You stand, turning to face both men as you cross your arms in front of your chest. You do not fail to notice the way Jongho pouts as you do so, missing the fact that he just technically had his arm wrapped around your back, even if only for a brief moment.

“When you first summoned us, we could only appear near you through glass objects.” Yeosang explains.

“Summoned you?” Your head tilts, disbelief clear on your features. “When, and how the hell did I summon you?”

“October twenty-fourth.” Jongho recalls, smiling fondly as if the memory is the most pleasant one he has ever experienced in his life.

At your confused look, Yeosang speaks once more.

“You and that one friend of yours, Reina, decided to ‘read from a book of spells’ if I recall correctly.” Yeosang adds air quotes around that specific phrase, an amused quirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

“No, it was Reina who read from the book,” you frown. “Why the fuck did you decide to haunt me?”

“You’re the one who caught out attention first,” Jongho admits with a shrug. “You weren’t panicking, and you were skeptical about the whole thing. Well, until Hongjoong and Seonghwa started moving shit around in the room you guys were in.”

You think this is the first time you’ve ever heard Jongho swear, and to say it catches you off guard would be an understatement.

“Yeah, don’t let his little innocent act fool you,” Yeosang chuckles. “He may be the youngest, but he swears worse than a sailor.”

“Hey!” Jongho protests, throwing one of your couch pillows at Yeosang who easily catches it with one hand while making a face at the younger.

You cannot help yourself. A chuckle escapes you. One which you immediately regret when both males are whipping their heads over to look at you, their gazes locking on your figure as soft smiles adorn their features. You clear your throat.

“That still doesn’t explain much,” you mutter, averting your gaze almost shyly. A fact which has both of their chests swelling with warmth.

It’s been so long since they’ve had a decent interaction with you, that they’re both going to savour this for as long as they can.

“You were the one that stepped up to protect your friend,” Yeosang continues. “You were the one who took charge and disposed of the mirror you guys used for the summoning.”

“Yeah, and?” You cross your arms.

“And we liked that about you.” Jongho replies, leaning further back into your couch with a smile still visible on his lips. “We’ve all been hooked ever since.”

“Getting rid of the mirror didn’t actually get rid of any of you, did it?” You sigh, shaking your head slightly.

“Nope,” both men reply at the same time.

“Great,” you exhale a long breath. “Well, I suppose this is my life now.”

“Don’t sound so disappointed,” Yeosang jokes, immediately regretting his decision to attempt to tease you when your eyes flash, a frown painting your features.

“I’ll go pack now,” your voice is bitter, a tenseness to your shoulders that wasn’t there a moment ago when you turn your back to them and begin to retreat to your bedroom.

As soon as you’re out of earshot, Jongho is throwing the other couch pillow at Yeosang’s head.

“Way to go, asshole.” Jongho hisses. “And we were finally making progress again, too.”

“Oh, don’t you dare blame all of this on me.” Yeosang rolls his eyes. “You’re the one that got all handsy first.”

“No, our eldest did that,” Jongho retorts, his words rumbling with the hints of a growl.

A scowl pulls onto Yeosang’s face as he leans back in his seat, both men now reeling in the bitterness that they felt - that they continue to feel - at the fact that Seonghwa of all people got to touch you first.

What they each wouldn’t give to have been in that position. To have you beneath their touch, to hold you in their arms, has always been one of their biggest fantasies. If only they could make them all into a reality. They would do anything to please you, and they hope that one day you’ll let them prove it.

Thirty minutes later and you’re appearing from down the hall, lugging two full suitcases with you. Immediately, both males are on their feet, each taking a bag from your hands.

“I have more, hang on,” you say, moving to turn around. However, before you can so much as face your hallway again, you see your suitcases disappear from their hands, vanishing in thin air. “What the fuck.”

“Our teleporting works on all things, both organic and inorganic.” Yeosang explains, casually, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that,” you reply, a hint of wonder in your tone which makes them both smile faintly. Then, you blink, as if realizing something. “Wait, if you guys can do that, then can-“

“Wait!”

“Again, what the fuck!” Your eyes go wide as you open the door to your spare bedroom where you keep all of your bookshelves to find them completely bare. Your stomach drops as panic washes through you. Have you been robbed? No, you don’t think so. It wouldn’t make sense with all of your valuables still here. “Where are all of my things?”

Of course, you had more than just books on your shelves. Photos, little trinkets, and even some extra folded blankets were held in this room, not to mention all the volumes of manga and albums you have been collecting over the years. All of them, vanished without a trace.

“One of you start explaining.” You turn to look at the two of them who stand wide-eyed in the doorway, and you just know they had something to do with this. “Now!”

“Remember that library Hongjoong told you about?” Jongho answers, a nervous lilt to his voice.

“You’re telling me, that he came to my apartment, alone, and brought all my belongings from within this room with him back to your domain?” You ask, a deadly look shining in your eyes.

“He wasn’t alone,” Yeosang replies. “Seonghwa went with him.”

Yeosang shouldn’t have said that. Yeosang really should not have said that.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Angry doesn’t even begin to describe you as you run a hand over your face, feeling your body begin to heat as white hot fury courses through your veins. “When?”

“The day after you finally came to us.” Jongho decides that there’s no use in lying to you anymore. You were bound to find out soon, anyways.

“So, that thing about only being able to appear near me in glass objects was complete bullshit, wasn’t it?” You narrow your eyes at them.

If either one of them so much as damaged anything, or so much as got a spec of dirt, or hell, even a fingerprint on your collection, there will be hell to pay.

“No!” Jongho immediately raises his hands in front of himself in defence. “That was all true, we swear!”

“There needed to be a physical connection between us before we could transport ourselves anywhere that you’ve been that we haven’t,” Yeosang tells you, attempting to be a voice of reason for you during this time. “Your friend may have summoned us, but you didn’t. So, even if we wanted to appear around you in the physical world, we couldn’t. Only metaphysically until we established that connection.”

“Well, this is just making me feel loads better,” you huff, sitting on the edge of the guest bed while rubbing your hands over your face. “I-“

A knock sounds from your door, interrupting your train of thought.

Immediately, both males are turning around with a scowl on their faces as they practically glare holes into your front door. Neither particularly enjoy the loud thoughts radiating from your much too friendly neighbour who has just decided to pay you an unexpected visit.

“We’ll talk about this later,” you say, going to move past them as you hear another knock - this one a little more eager than the first - sound at your door. However, before you so much as undo the lock, you turn to face them once more, quirking a brow in the process.

Do you mind grabbing my other bags? They’re in my room.

Both males can only stand there and blink, momentarily stunned by the fact that you’ve just willingly spoken to them using your thoughts. Ecstatic doesn’t even begin to describe how they’re feeling, forgetting for a brief moment about the male behind your front door as pleased growls build in their throats, threatening to escape them at any second.

Without another thought, they hastily head to your room, practically shoving each other out of the way in order to be the first one to cross the threshold into your own private space. A space in which you’ve just practically invited them into for the first time, completely unaware of the meaning behind your request.

As soon as you see them disappear down the hallway, you’re breathing a sigh of relief. Turning back around to face the front, you flick the locks, swinging the door open in the next second. The sight that greets you brings a smile to your lips.

“Calum, hey!” You don’t think you’ve experienced this sense of happiness, this sense of normalcy in weeks. “How’ve you been?”

“Hey!” He greets back with a smile, pulling you in for a hug which you gladly accept. “I’m doing great! How have you been? I haven’t seen you around lately, is everything okay?”

You pull away from him, holding him at arms length as your smile shifts from genuine to semi-strained. “Yeah, I’ve been okay. Just busy lately. Life has really been kicking my ass.”

You share a small laugh, worry tugging at the back of your mind. You feel as if there’s a storm brewing behind you, hidden just around the corner of your hallway. One that you cannot control.

“If something’s the matter, you can tell me,” he says, genuine concern reflected on his features as his hands move to hold your own in his. Gently, he strokes his thumb over your skin, squeezing your fingers reassuringly. “I’m here for you.” Then, as if he’s finally decided to speak his mind, “I’ve missed you.”

A soft call of your name draws your attention to the side as you feel an arm snake around your waist from behind. Sparing a glance to the side, you see Jongho standing beside you, glaring directly at the man standing across from you. “Who’s this?”

“This,” you not-so-subtly elbow Jongho in the ribs, getting him to drop his hold on you in the process as you shoot him a pointed look, “is my neighbour, Calum.”

“What’s taking you two so long?” Yeosang appears beside you, his hand finding purchase on your lower back and causing you to stiffen immediately at his touch. He meets Calum’s gaze, a look of disinterest painting his features as he scrutinizes every inch of the mortal before him.

At least Jongho and Yeosang can agree on this. This human has nothing on them.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Calum blinks, a bit taken aback. “I didn’t realize you had company.”

“Yeah, it’s a bit-“

“Watch your mouth.” It’s Jongho who cuts you off, successfully making you jump at the harshness of his tone, words directed at the man before you.

You can feel Yeosang’s fingers tense on your back, and you just know something bad is about to happen.

“Anyways,” you say quickly, already reaching to close your front door. “Great seeing you again!”

Without another word, you slam the door in his face, turning to look at the two demons practically fuming now as you rest your back on the now closed door. One look into their eyes and you see nothing but darkness swirling within.

“What the fuck was that about?” You frown, a hint of fear trailing down your spine.

“We’re leaving.” Yeosang reaches for you, but you recoil back, eyes wide as you press yourself against the door.

“Please, don’t be scared of us.” Jongho says, his tone suddenly soft as he finally reverts his eyes back to their normal colour.

“You would not believe the thoughts projecting themselves out of that thing’s head.” Yeosang adds with a huff, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

“That person has a name,” you mirror his stance, frown still tugging at your features.

“Not for long,” Yeosang mumbles, and you swear your eyes nearly bug out of your head.

“Excuse me?” You look at him, incredulously.

“He doesn’t deserve to live with the things he was thinking about you.” Jongho breathes, eyes seeing past you and appearing as if his gaze is following Calum’s figure as it retreats back down the hallway and into his own apartment.

You freeze, your breath catching in your throat. “I’ll be the judge of that.”

Well, they did tell you that they would do anything for you. Honestly, you shouldn’t be surprised that killing isn’t beneath them.

Yeosang and Jongho share a brief look. Of course they would kill for you. What type of demonic lovers would they be if they didn’t?

“Go on, then,” you motion for them to continue with your head. “What was he thinking?”

It’s Yeosang who meets your gaze first. “He didn’t actually care about how you were doing. The only thing on his mind was how he could get into your pants. Apparently, in his mind, you’ve been nothing but a ‘teasing bitch always leading him on’.”

“Huh, you think you know a guy.” You scoff, shrugging in the next moment. “Not any different than the majority of men I know. Honestly, I’ve been called worse.”

“He called you a-“ Jongho pauses, his entire body shaking with white hot fury as his eyes flash black once more, “a ‘slut’. A ‘fucking whore’ as soon as he saw us appear beside you.”

“Again, not the first time a man has called me those things after I’ve rejected them,” you say, nonchalantly.

You want to question whether or not they’re lying to you, but their reactions are far too genuine to simply be an act. You’re starting to understand what it means for them to lose control, especially when you are concerned.

“Who?” Yeosang immediately takes a step forward, causing you to push yourself further back into the door until he’s correcting his mistake, making the both of them take a few steps backwards to give you some space.

“You think I keep a list of all the people who have wronged me?” You laugh dryly, a roll to your eyes. “Yeah, Samantha pushed me off of the swing set when we were five and I scraped my knee. Jaehyun broke my heart last year and he didn’t even care about it.”

They both scowl, thoughts overcome with the need to protect you in any and every way they know how. These people have wronged you, and they no longer deserve to live for defiling you in such ways.

You sigh, not believing the words that are about to come out of your mouth. “Take me back.”

They blink at you, attempting to put a leash on their rage for the time being.

“Take me back,” you repeat, pushing yourself off of the door to stand in an upright position as your eyes close. “I’ve gotten everything that I came for.”

Just as Yeosang goes to reach for you, your eyes are flinging opened.

“Wait!” You’ve just remembered something.

Immediately, you brush past them and reenter your bedroom. A moment later and you reappear, three large stuffed animals clutched in your arms.

“I can’t believe I almost forgot these guys,” you shake your head, noticing the way the two of them wear looks of amusement on their faces. You narrow your eyes. “Not a word.”

Jongho raises his hands in a motion of surrender, while Yeosang simply quirks a brow.

“I sleep better when I’m holding onto something,” you admit, a heat rising to your cheeks. “The pillow isn’t quite cutting it anymore.”

Little do you know of the way your words effect them. Both would gladly let you cling to them whenever and wherever you wanted, especially if it meant you slept better through the night. Hell, they know they would rest better holding you in their arms for as long as you’d let them. Really, you need only ask.

“Alright,” your voice manages to pull them out of their thoughts. “Let’s go.”

It’s a bittersweet feeling. One that settles into your bones and fills your lungs as you take what are probably your final breaths in this apartment for the rest of your life. The harshness of reality slaps you in the face as your emotions begin to overwhelm you, resisting the urge to cry as you realize that you don’t want to go back. You don’t want to leave the home you so delicately created for yourself the past few years. You don’t want to abandon who you were, or what you did.

Only, before you can so much as utter a final goodbye, Yeosang is placing his hand onto the small of your back once more. In an instant, your room at the hotel greets you, and you find yourself blinking away tears as you throw your stuffed animals on the newly made bed. It looks as if someone cleaned your room while you were gone, your freshly packed bags sitting off to the side.

“Are you okay?” Jongho asks, voice soft as he takes a step towards you.

“No, I am not okay.” You hiss, turning around and sitting on the edge of the bed.

However, before either of them can say anything else, San, who had been walking past your room at hearing your thoughts returning within the vicinity, storms inside at seeing you in tears. Cautiously, he kneels in front of you, worry clear on his features as he spares a glance at his brothers out of the corner of his eyes. Cupping your face in his hands, he manages to wipe one of your tears away before you’re shrugging him off.

San stands, turning to face the others in the room. “What the fuck did you two do?”

“We didn’t do anything,” Yeosang narrows his eyes at the aforementioned male who is currently glaring at both him and Jongho.

“If this is about that bastard-“ Jongho begins, before you cut him off.

“I couldn’t give less than two fucks about him right now,” you snap, and you swear both Jongho’s and Yeosang’s chests rumble with pleased growls, whereas San just looks confused, his brow furrowing in response. “I really didn’t think I had to spell this one out for you.”

No, you really don’t. Your emotions lingering throughout your thoughts tell them enough, and all they can do is frown. If they could, they would take all of your pain away, replacing that longing, that sadness within you in a heartbeat. However, they cannot. The best they can do is offer you any sort of comfort that they can. Whether you choose to accept it or not is another story.

San turns his attention back to the other two males, his voice low. “What happened?”

Both Jongho and Yeosang share a look between themselves before they’re sharing their memories with their brothers. All of them.

And you let him live? Seonghwa snarls through their minds, and none of them have to see him to know the pure and utter fury that is shining in his eyes right now.

Anyone care to take a trip? Yunho hums, and they all know a maniacal grin is stretching over his lips in this moment. I think we owe the little worm a visit.

Already ahead of you, Wooyoung replies, a malicious glint in his eyes as he catches his own gaze in the mirror.

Skin him alive for me, would you? Mingi voices, already deciding that he’ll stay behind to make sure you don’t do anything rash. Besides, you thought about wanting to explore your new home earlier, and he’ll be damned if he isn’t at least one of the ones to show you around.

I’d prefer if you burnt him to a crisp, honestly. San adds, watching you carefully as you stand from your seated position on the bed and walk past the three of them into the bathroom. He’s also determined to stay back and watch over you, even if he so badly wants to unleash the seventh layer of hell upon the pathetic excuse of a human that so much as thought he could have any type of chance with you.

If anyone gets first dibs on how we torture the mortal, it’s us. Yeosang states, a cold fury held within his eyes.

Yeah, Jongho huffs, you guys had no idea how hard it was not to tear him apart limb from limb right then and there.

Then why didn’t you? Wooyoung snaps, anger clouding his mind.

Believe me, we wanted to. Yeosang sighs, both him and Jongho vanishing from the room as they meet the others at the front.

We just rather preferred not to have our beloved terrified of us for the moment. We’re pretty sure we’ve already freaked her out enough for one lifetime. Jongho purses his lips, crossing his arms in front of his chest as the five of them converge.

Looking around, their brows furrow. Someone is missing. Someone who has been very silent throughout this whole ordeal. Someone who is usually the first one to act when something like this happens.

Immediately, the five of them are transporting to your apartment. Opening the front door, they make the short trek down the hallway to Calum’s apartment, already feeling the wrath radiating outwards in waves. Carefully, they push the door open, eyes bleeding black as smirks tug at their features.

There, in the middle of the living room, stands Hongjoong. A blade rests in his hand, dripping with fresh blood as he glares at the man pinned to the wall before him. A man who lets out a muffled scream, struggling against the daggers piercing his skin and holding him in place off of the ground as he sees the five men enter the room, their eyes as dark as night and screaming for vengeance.

Hongjoong turns to look at them with his eyes already pitch black and screaming for blood. “Took you long enough.”

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angel4astraea · 1 year

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strong believer that dottore has an opposite partner. . . but realistic version !

♡ to be honest, i don't think he'd purposefully look for someone who was different. he's a literal criminal who does vile things to other human beings

♡ everything in his personal life (if he has one) is locked up tight within his own confines of his chest. he's cold but logical, meaning that brain comes over heart. .

♡ with a person who is the complete opposite, things such as personality, style, habits, thinking, etc, he'd be so irritated at first lol. as he got used to your antics, maybe he'd find them somewhat amusing. . especially if you're working under him or beside him.

♡ if you were expecting an epic romance falling, you are sorely wrong. it takes so much to even have someone be in the same space as him when he's working. he's a high and mighty harbinger, he thinks that weaknesses (human emotions) would hinder the fatui's business.

♡ but if you do crack his first shell, you'll definitely know. he'll have you write notes while he speaks aloud when experimenting. . which is huge.

♡ as soon as you do make progress, he'll probably try to push you away. it's probably involuntary as he does it with everyone and thing. if you stay, his confidence with you rises steadily. anything that seems shaky will hinder the progress.

♡ when it gets to the point where he acknowledges something is going on, he talks with you directly. he's blunt with his thoughts and feelings, telling the truth instead of hiding it beneath tricks and tribulations. when that's over with, he'll let you make a decision over a couple days as he also needs to understand the gravity of what might happen to you if he doesn't succeed with his work and goals. pierro could use that against him as blackmail and he couldn't afford to be put down.

♡ when you two do eventually start dating, dates are meticulously planned between his trips and work. he tries his best and sometimes it isn't perfect like he anticipated. even though things can fall through, he still makes sure to make you feel appreciated and loved.

♡ if he's in sumeru, he's definitely cautious when you ask to come along. but that's the time he literally took two gnosis' from nahida so he declined that round. however, he does take you under disguise once.

♡ i believe that the whole "future" talk wouldn't come up until you two are trench deep into the relationship. i'm thinking six months? eitherway, he's clear on his wishes but is willing to hear you out; he doesn't want kids but he would like to marry you. the whole murderous father thing doesn't stick well with him. . you can't blame him.

♡ if you do want kids, he won't shut you down. i mean, he could literally make a child for you and him via his vast knowledge and DNA. that's if you couldn't carry one at the very least. he'll compromise with you about kids, the cutoff is two.

♡ strong believer in the importance of traditional marriages on his end. he might not follow any ethics in the lab but when it comes to something as sacred as this, he does want something normal. i'm thinking he'd want something related to his heritage and home country, sumeru but also something snezhnayian.

♡ would prob marry you around 3 years of dating ngl. even if it seems quick (at least in my opinion), he finds normalcy in this affectionate system you two have created.

♡ bedroom wise. . i think in the early stages of the relationship, he wouldn't initiate anything for the sake of not spoiling the reveal after months of building up bliss and curiosity. i don't care, he's not as big as a whore!

♡ when you do finally get into it, he's mindful about boundaries and whatnot. he also has to be careful with his teeth because they are both pointy and sharp. he hopes you won't kick him to the couch if he accidentally forgets one too many times about his teeth.

♡ i think he's a top but it varies. like, he can be soft when you ask but he can also be rough. his actions rely on your wants, icks and emotions. as much as he likes to say he isn't great with the whole "complex human brain immediately", he still can pick up whatever you're feeling based on faces, habits and even how you breathe.

♡ in my opinion, i believe that he is banned from giving head with teeth and sex in the lab. not explaining.

♡ overall, he's a decent person to be with but it is a LOT of work.

#genshin impact #headcannon #reader #genshin smut #x reader #genshin impact x reader smut #gender neutral reader #dottore #genshin impact dottore #fatui x you #fatui x reader #yaaaas

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isa-beenme · 1 year

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Hi! this is my first time asking but maybe you could do a co-workers and a one night stand for the Acotar bingo with azzy?? like they are both spies for rhys and something happens on a mission orrrr…. idk fluff please :))))

feel free to ignore - i love ur work btw <33

Oh my dear I definitely can

Thanks so much for the reassurance, I'm a people pleaser KEEP COMMENTING COMMENTS THEY ARE MY BIGGEST FUEELLLLLL

Me writing a normal fanfic: 😃

Me 5 seconds after I start creating a whole trauma, past story and a lot of facts that are not exactly necessary to the story: 🥰😍🤩😚💕💖💟💞🤗✨️

When I was writing this I thought: Omg maybe I'm finally ready to write smut (I'm not, the need completely disappeared from me the moment I opened the document)

Pillowtalk

As you and Azriel prepare for yet another mission together to watch the suspect camplords in the Illyrian mountains, you go over your plans meticulously, ensuring you are ready for whatever challenges lie ahead. You and Azriel have created a unique bond over the years, having worked together on numerous missions for the High Lord. Both of you knew how to work together and where your boundaries were laid. It was precisely that that made working with him so easy, no matter the amount of time you spent together, he never ever asked you to take off the mask that usually covered your face.

The journey to the Illyrian mountains is always filled with tension since you know how much Azriel hates his old home. You know you must be discreet to avoid detection. You and Azriel move silently, utilizing your stealth and his powers to blend into the shadows. You keep your senses sharp, alert to any potential danger.

However, even the most carefully laid plans can go awry. During your surveillance, you encounter an unexpected group of hostile Illyrian males who happened to be patrolling in that area. Azriel fights valiantly, but he is fighting against five of the seven that attacked you, and even if he defeats three of them, the other two remaining aim for his wings and cause a serious injury during the wings' leather, leaving him vulnerable and unable to defend himself adequately.

In a split second, you take your decision, and you know you must act swiftly to protect your partner. Without hesitation, you remove your mask, it helps you to maintain silence and prevents the enemies from hearing your breathing. But right now it is only making it difficult for vision to be clear, the fighting usually being Azriel's work.

As you take off the mask it reveals the burn mark that runs from your neck to a portion of your face. It serves as a reminder of a past event that you try to keep hidden from prying eyes. Also, it would work as an easy way for your enemies to recognize you anywhere you went. Even if they didn't remember your face, they would remember the scars, this being the only reason to keep your face a mystery during your missions.

Despite your reservations, you know very well that your identity is a small price to pay to save Azriel. Drawing upon all your strength, you fiercely fight off your remaining attackers, using your skills to ensure you both survive the ordeal.

After the dust settles and the danger has passed, Azriel looks at you with a mixture of awe and concern. He finally sees the face that you had kept concealed for so long. His gaze lingers on the burn mark, but he doesn't pry or ask questions. He knows that you have your reasons for keeping your identity a secret, and he respects your privacy in everything.

You quickly winnow yourself and him to a nearby cabin, paying an offensive amount of gold to the keeper for her to remain silent about your state there. She only nods once and takes you to the main room, running to take medical supplies for your partner.

-Do you need help? - She asks softly, but you can see her nervousness as she looks at the blood.

-No, I can take it from here. Thank you for everything - You dismiss her and she happily gets out of the room and closes the door behind her, leaving you to take care of Azriel's wings, which are already closing their wounds.

As Azriel recovers from his injuries, you stay by his side, tending to his wounds with care and cleaning them at one time or another. As you spend time together during his recuperation, he senses there is more to your burn mark than meets the eye. You can sense his eyes floating to your neck sometimes, but you let him be fully healed before saying anything.

-You know you can just ask, right? - You say as Azriel sits beside you as you look out the window.

-I hope I'm not prying or making you uncomfortable, but I couldn't help but notice your burn mark. It must have been a difficult experience - You take a deep breath, your fingers tracing the edge of the scar absentmindedly - You don't have to share if you don't want to-

-Yes, it was - You replied, your voice carrying a mix of pain and vulnerability - My parents... they weren't the kindest people. They made it clear that they didn't want me and that I was a burden to them - You notice Azriel tracing his own scars, you didn't even notice the moment he took off his gloves.

-I'm so sorry you had to go through that - He says sincerely, a mixture of sympathy and understanding in his eyes.

-When I was young, I believed that if I stayed close to them or if I tried harder, they might change their minds, and start loving me or something. But one day... One day, I was talking to my mother while she was cooking. I didn't realize I was annoying her until she got angry. The next thing I knew, the hot oil spilled on me, and she didn't even try to help, not her, not my father. I was left with this scar after that - You took a deep breath as you felt Azriel's gentle touch tracing the contours of the burn in your neck, a silent gesture of support as he listened intently - I was probably six, maybe seven. It didn't take me long to run away until I found a mercenary. He took me in and trained me. I was supposed to be a mercenary too if Rhysand didn't find me. He hired me after some time and gave my tutor a place to live in Velaris. That's my sad story - You said with a dry laugh, trying to keep the tears that threatened to escape from your eyes. Azriel's heart aches for the pain you endured, and he reaches out to gently touch your face, mirroring the care you showed him during his recovery.

-You are incredibly strong - He says sincerely - To survive such a difficult past and become the person you are now, it takes immense courage.

-And what about yours? We are basically burn buddies - He laughs at that, supporting his back on the window, looking deeply at you as you take his hand from your face and start to trace them - You don't have to tell me if you're not ready, too.

-No, I want to tell you - He replies, his voice steady - You've shared your pain with me, and it's only fair that I do the same. I was the bastard son of an Illyrian lord. For eleven years, I lived with my father, stepmother, and two older half-brothers. They were cruel and treated me like an outcast. They kept me in a cell with no windows or light, letting me out only for an hour a day to see my mother. I was forbidden to train or fly, even though my Illyrian instincts urged me to do so.

You bring your hand up to his arm, bringing him closer to your body as you circle him in a hug, feeling the tension disappearing from his body as he is visibly relaxed in your arms, embracing the warmth and comfort.

-One day, my half-brothers thought it would be fun to see what would happen if they mixed an Illyrian's quick healing gifts with fire. They poured oil on my hands and lit them on fire - Your eyes widened in surprise, not in a million years you would have imagined his story to be like this - The warriors heard my screams and rescued me, but it was too late to save my hands. I was left with these scars, a constant reminder of the cruelty I endured.

-I hope they are all dead - You said suddenly, your voice mixed with a tone you reserve for the ones you torture in the prison.

-One of them. And no, I won't tell you who they are just for you to kill them - He laughs when you ruff in annoyance - If so you would have to tell me who are your parents, so we can have a tie.

-Really? I would gladly do so - He laughs once again, the sound making your heart flutter in happiness. He takes a moment to compose himself before speaking again.

-At eleven, I was dumped in the Illyrian training camp, Windhaven, where I wasn't exactly well received due to my shadowsinging gifts. That's where I met Rhysand and Cassian. Rhysand's mother took me in, just as she did for Cassian. And when Rhysand became the High Lord of the Night Court, I became his spymaster, part of the Inner Circle.

-I'm so sorry for what you went through. But know that you are not defined by your past, it was a lesson it took me some time to understand. You are strong, compassionate, and resilient, a testament to the person you've become. And your scars, just like mine, tell a story of resilience and survival. We should be proud of the people we've become despite our pasts.

-Yes, we should. And I couldn't be prouder of what we've become - He gets out of your embrace, taking your hand in his, reveling in the feel.

-You're right. We make a great team, burn buddies, if so - You hear a chuckle and let your own laugh fill the room - I'm grateful for every mission we've shared, you know.

-I'm grateful too, more than words can say. You've shown me kindness, trust, and loyalty. You've helped me heal in ways I didn't think were possible - Azriel's other hand moved from his side to cup your cheek tenderly, his thumb brushing away a stray tear.

-And you've done the same for me. Your strength and understanding have been my anchor through it all - At that moment, you felt an unspoken connection that went beyond your shared experiences as spies. It was a bond forged through trust, support, and compassion.

As you trace gentle patterns on Azriel's hand, he gazes at you with affection and admiration. He can't help but be captivated by your strength and resilience, your ability to face your past head-on and still maintain a kind and caring heart. Something he couldn't do. His past hunted him as a monster, the shame he felt on his hands growing every time he looked at them. But you?

-You're incredible - He whispers, his voice barely above a breath. You looked up at him, shocked by his sudden words, but your eyes were shimmering with gratitude.

-And you're just as incredible - You reply with a smile playing on your lips - I always admired you. It was nice knowing you always chose me to go with you, it's also nice spending time with you.

-I always chose you because we make a great duo - You murmur "burn buddies" again, but he doesn't laugh this time, his eyes still admiring you. He turns his hand and entangles it with your - You're beautiful. You always told me that, and now I can say it back.

At that moment, the air around you feels charged with an undeniable attraction. You both sense it, the magnetic pull that draws you closer. Without another word, Azriel leans in, capturing your lips in a kiss. Your lips move together in a dance of longing and desire, your emotions pouring into the embrace. The weight of your shared experiences, the understanding of each other's pain, and the warmth of your feelings culminate in this moment.

The kiss deepens, and you lose yourselves in each other, forgetting the world outside as you explore the depths of your needs. Azriel's hand gently cradles your face, his thumb caressing your scarred cheek, while your fingers find their way into his hair, pulling him closer.

Your bodies move closer in the window seat, the space between you disappearing as you seek comfort and intimacy in each other's arms. The tension that had been building between you for years finds its release, and you become lost in the sensation of being with someone who understands you on a level you never thought possible.

As you pull away, your breaths mingling, you meet each other's eyes, the intensity of the moment shining brightly. Without words, you share an unspoken understanding as he starts undoing the stripes and buttons of your armor and you start to take off the layers of his. Your lips connect again as he pulls you to his lap and walks you towards the bed, taking off the rest of your clothes as well as his.

Your heated make-out session evolves into a night filled with passion while you share your bodies, as you find the solace and belonging you've been searching for, a love that heals your wounds and ignites a fire within your hearts. When he looked at the rest of your scars, that went down until your shoulder and took a bit of your collarbone his eyes became feral with lust. From the moment he bent down and kissed each piece of skin that was covered with burn wounds, you knew that you are completely fucked.

After your initial heated encounter, you and Azriel decide that your night together was a product of vulnerability and a need for comfort in the moment. You both acknowledge the dangers of getting involved romantically, especially as spies working in a world filled with secrets and risks.

-We can't afford distractions - Azriel had once said, his voice tinged with concern - Our focus needs to be on the missions and keeping each other safe.

-You're right. We can't let our emotions get in the way of what we do - In that moment you had nodded in agreement, understanding the practicality of his words.

Both of you agree to keep your relationship strictly professional, even though your hearts yearn for more. However, as the days pass, you find it increasingly challenging to resist the pull you feel toward each other. Your missions become more dangerous, and the stakes are higher than ever. During chaos and uncertainty, you find comfort and solace in each other's arms.

It starts with small moments, a touch on the arm here, a lingering glance there. You become each other's safe haven, the one constant in a world filled with unpredictability. And despite your resolve, once you go back to your normal life in Velaris, you find yourselves in each other's bed again, seeking solace in the connection you share. The passion and intimacy between you intensifies with each encounter, and you start to realize that they can't deny the love that has grown between you.

As the days turn into weeks, you find yourselves entangled in each other more times than you could count, each encounter pulling you closer together. You've become inseparable in your free time, if it's you in his studio while he practices his painting, or if it's him in your house while you practice dancing, your lives become intertwined both on and off the field.

The morning sun gently filters through the curtains, casting a warm glow on the room as Azriel stirs awake. Blinking away the remnants of sleep, he finds himself lying beside you in your room once again, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

He traces his fingers gently along the curves of your body, admiring the lines that define your form. The faint light reveals the outline of your burn mark, a testament to your strength and resilience. Azriel's heart swells with affection for you, knowing the hardships you have endured and the courage you carry within.

As his fingers gently explore, you stir from your slumber, your eyes slowly opening to meet his gaze. You see the adoration in his eyes and the reverence with which he touches you. A blush tinges on your cheeks, but you don't look away, instead, you pull him closer, wanting to feel his touch even more.

-You're awake - You murmur, your voice soft but still rough from the slumber. Azriel leans in, his lips brushing against your forehead before he meets your eyes again.

-Yes, I am. And I can't help but marvel at the sight before me - Your heart flutters at his words, and you intertwine your fingers with him, pulling his hand to your lips to leave a tender kiss.

-You have a way with words, Shadowsinger. But actions speak louder - With a soft chuckle, Azriel leans in, capturing your lips in a deep and loving kiss. Your mouths move in perfect harmony, conveying all the unspoken emotions between you. When you finally break apart, your foreheads rest gently against each other's, your breaths mingling.

-I never expected this - You admit, your voice tinged with wonder - But I'm grateful for every moment we shared.

-As am I. You've brought light into my life, and I can't imagine a future without you - You stay entwined, basking in each other's presence, knowing that you've found something rare and precious.

-What if we sleep in today? I don't think we need to get out of bed - He laughs and leans closer to you, the skin contact makes you shiver - I don't know, it's cold today, maybe we can help each other and warm ourselves up.

-I don't think Rhysand will appreciate it if his two best spies disappeared from his view - But he doesn't make a movement to get out of bed, instead, he starts kissing the back of your neck, slowly going under the covers. That way you know you win the discussion, the same way you did many times before.

Every time you find yourself in Azriel's arms, you feel like you can face the world, one day at a time, knowing that you have his heart to hold onto and a love that burns brighter than any shadow you've ever known. Years of shared missions, trust, and understanding have led you to this moment of realization. You are not just good together as partners, but you have discovered a deeper connection, a love born from empathy and shared experiences.

-Thank you - He comes up suddenly, interrupting his path to your legs - For being here, for understanding - With a soft smile, Azriel brushes a strand of hair away from your face, his voice tender as he speaks - I think we've found something extraordinary in each other.

-I believe you're right, shadow boy - You reply, before the smile completely disappears from your face - But this is not time to be sentimental. First, you eat your snack, and then we can talk about how much we love each other - You push his head under the covers again, hearing his laugh before his mouth finds its way to you.

That stupid promise of a one-time thing was nothing more than a futile attempt to deny the love that had grown between you. You couldn't fight it any longer, your hearts made the decision for yourselves a long time ago. You were partners - mates - in every sense of the word, bound not just by the missions, but by a love that has proven to be stronger than any obstacle in your path.

#spotify #acotar #azriel × reader #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel/reader #azriel x oc #azriel x reader #azriel x female!reader

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eeblouissant · 1 month

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Hello, if you are up for it I would love to know more about your headcanons for Rose being autistic. It makes so much sense to me, and I'd like to more 😊

I’d love to talk about my rose hcs :D here’re a few !!! this became a bit all over the place so bare with me lol

(some of you may have seen / seen me talk about these in the past but shhhh I like talking about things over and over - I love her so much it’s insane where do I even begin)

Firstly I think it’s important to note that rose obviously has/would have been autistic her whole life. The way an autistic person who has lived longer than you or I with their autism and autistic traits is going to deal & cope differently, and have more experience with managing/regulating - or at least in my head! We have to look at rose differently because I don’t believe she would experience autism the same way you or I would anymore; nothing is really new to her.

Until she moves in with Blanche, that is!!!!

I think rose, after being in the same spot for so long (st. Olaf) learnt on her own how to manage & cope with being autistic because she had a “life long” routine that never really changed until Charlie died? From the bits she’s shared about her at home life during her marriage it all sounds meticulously planned & never changing, which is one of the many reasons why I hc her being autistic actually. Charlie also seemed to have a similar routinely-ness about him but I don’t know enough to properly headcanon him (although, rose having an autistic partner would have brought her great comfort im sure. The idea sits in the back of my mind - however, I could definitely go on about Blanche & Dorothy being their own kinds of neurodivergent haha)

I think roses most “obvious” autistic trait is how oblivious (?) she can be, and very often is. She has moments where it’s made very clear that rose is not stupid, because she isn’t!!! She’s very clever and it’s crucial that point is underlined often!! She does tend to have things fly over her head, or taken too literally. We know that and it doesn’t need repeating - But another thing that really stands out to me is her lack of filter when speaking!!! This may just me be projecting, but I’ve noticed that most of the time, when she drops some wild out of no where (and sometimes slightly out of character) comeback at one of the girls, it comes out straight and with little thought. Innocently, almost? Like a thought just breached containment, you know 😂. I’ve seen a few autistic people talk about this but it really can be a problem - it’s something I personally struggle with and that has caused very angry fights between friends & family. It’s that, “if you didn’t want my opinion why ask?” thing I guess? But also just speaking your mind. This extends to her interests as well, and often in an “anger” of outbursts we don’t ever expect from her. ie: the scene where Blanche has accidentally given away her teddy bear & rose snaps. It’s a bit jarring the way it comes out of nowhere! But I’ll touch on her interests later.

I don’t think rose overly struggled/struggles with masking, because I don’t believe she’s ever really felt she had to (This adds onto my last point about lacking a filter). She grew up in an environmental where she always very closely related to the people around her, and that had mostly known her for her entire life (that she had grown up with). So I would like to assume that to them, this was just rose. The only rose that they had ever known. Nothing would be out of place to them because what else do they know! So naturally there would be no room for judgement = rose feels no pressure to conform. St. Olaf sounds like my autistic heaven, no wonder rose misses her hometown so bad 😭. Anyway the first time she’d ever get a strange look would’ve definitely been that first moment her & Blanche met. Blanche was a little startled by roses definition of being “a wild woman” and rose seemed completely lost by it - because she had never experienced that before! She even asked, panicked, why Blanche was putting her flyer back up. I could over analyze that scene forever. Dorothy was a separate shock to the system for her but I feel like that’s a whole post on it’s own. I really want to write out my thoughts on Dorothy & Rose warming up to each other one day because it’s not expanded on much :’) they’re soooooooooooo important to me.

Roses main interests also inspired this headcanon. Many autistic people tend to have “weird” or “childish” interests, regardless of age or gender. Lots of autistic people don’t tend to view age and gender the way someone who’s not autistic would - they’re not as concrete & restricting. Rose definitely has interests that would be considered strange for her age! Her protectiveness of her stuffed animals, Disney, even (what I consider to be her special interest) St. Olaf could be considered by some, outside of Dorothy, Blanche and Sophia, kind of odd. I think these things can be seen as less-so because Rose is a woman, which I’m sure would’ve been a lovely thing & saved her many uncomfortable questions.

Rose often self soothes/stims when she’s feeling particularly out of sorts or if she’s run into a slightly uncomfortable situation. One of my favourite examples is that clip where she’s taken two sock puppets & acts them out to be Blanche & Dorothy. Dorothy walks into the kitchen without her noticing &, once rose says something with her sock puppet that she’s not very fond of, hits her over the head (lovingly) with the paper. Rose repeats “bad puppet” to herself & knocks her wrists together. She also turns to the girls (but mostly Dorothy I think?) when she needs to self soothe or regulate. Another example that I think about all the time because I just love the clip so much - that bit where Blanche was on a diet for whatever reason she felt she needed to be & rose had accidentally eaten the food Blanche had prepared beforehand. Blanche explodes & rose immediately goes to hide herself behind Dorothy. Hinting at autistic traits or not, that scene is so damn precious 😭 be still my heart.

(the clip in question … I couldn’t help myself. Excuse the quality it’s been sitting in my camera roll for a while)

These are just some of my thoughts :D if anyone has any specific questions about my headcanons (or examples of autistic traits that I haven’t mentioned yet) pleaseeeee send them my way !!!!! I love love love talking about rose !!!!!!! <<<33333

#my baby :’) now I need to go rewatch that scene #or wait maybe I’ll just include it here actually. you all need to see it again #rose I love you <<<333333 she’s me I’m her #thank you for this ask anon I always enjoy talking about rose :D sorry it took so long to answer haha #the golden girls #rose nylund #asks

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anthurak · 8 months

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The thing that got my attention during the final song is that Alastor seems to not actually have a plan at all how to break free from his bonds. He's desperately searching for a way and is hoping that charlie and the hotel will be his ticket but he doesn't actually know how that would happend yet and is just hovering around waiting and looking for anything he can use to free himself.

Admittedly he could always have a plan that he doesn't mention in the song, but yeah I do think you definitely might be on to something here :)

I think the two key details are, as you said, Alastor's clear desperation in wanting to be 'free', and also his clear cockiness. I think his fight with Adam showed that it's all too easy for Alastor to start buying into his own hype to the point of biting off WAY more than he can chew.

Combined with his overall dealmaker and, let's be honest, con-man vibes, I think it's more likely that Alastor doesn't have a well-thought-out plan and is more looking for opportunities that he can exploit. Like his deal with Charlie is SO vague and open-ended, I kinda doubt even Alastor has anything more than a general idea what he might want to use his 'favor' for. Which as I've discussed, could REALLY come back to bite him with the whole 'Charlie doesn't need to hurt anyone' clause.

I think rather than some brilliant, calculating schemer carefully assembling deliberately chosen into a meticulously thought-out plan (like he probably hopes people think of him), Alastor is more cobbling together a bunch of random pieces in the hope that they'll fit together into what he wants. And of course not really considering that whatever they fit into isn't just as, or MORE likely to simply blow up in his face.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin ask #anon ask #hazbin alastor

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manicpixie-tieflingboyfriend · 5 months

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Halsin, Dammon, Zevlor and Karlach all surprising Tav with birthday sex (yes at the same time) (Happy Belated Birthday 🎂)

Its midnight you are doing this On Purpose now and I'm. Okay with it. (Thank you 💞) BUT GODS, WHAT A DAMN COMBO...

I imagine it starts really simple, maybe Tav finds a gift and a note from one of them (probably Dammon, because he had to get to the forge) does a groggy little smile but realizes everyone has their own thing going on and they hadn't had the chance to even see any of them before they head out.... Unusual.... Tav is always greeted by at least one of them, and today of all days they all just left? Curious.

The gift is something Dammon made (or so it says) and while Tav is mulling over their partners' unusual behaviors they open the box to find the single most unusual gift a weaponsmith/armorer cause have ever made. They can certainly wear it, and in fact as punishment for leaving Tav by themself for their day, they're definitely wearing it.

Turns out that's exactly what the scheming bastards wanted. They know them too well. So Tav has the most form hugging, body finery on, talking thin chains embellished with jewelry, covering parts of the body in swathes, some of it singular, looser chains. Bracelet like cuffs, necklace like collar, loose hoops at the waist, clearly something that was measured for and crafted meticulously.

Cheeky bastards.

The lot of them come home at the same time, all from their respective tasks, half expecting a whining Tav to be waiting for them. And they are, but their whining to themself.

They find Tav in their room, mouth covered with one hand, the other buried in themself, the chains of the finery making the absolute sweetest tinkling noises as they get lost in their own ministrations (they'd been at it a while) to the point they hardly notice they've got an audience.

A very enraptured audience.

They're all practically salivating at the sight (even Dammon who's still the shyest of the lot) and then Tav gasps on calls a name, and it's clear they're aware they're being watched.

It doesn't matter who gets called first, but just for the sake of teasing the lot, say it's Dammon. He's equal parts flustered and absolutely ready for it, especially with all the time he took to make that finery. He gets to enjoy it first, and it is torture for the others. Watching Dammon, their sweet sweet Dammon climb over Tav and replace their fingers with his tail, Tav slowly working his clothes off, and once he's bear in all his glory and fucking Tav on his tail the other three slowly snap.

They'd had a plan, and it still works out but gods is it hard to break these two up. Tav has their fingers buried into Dammon's cunt and they're working him just as hard is he is them with his tail. They're both all shaky breaths and messy kisses and giddy little smiles at how pretty the finery is and how grateful Tav is for their present.

They both hit a climax before the other three make a move and gods is Tav petty about it. "If this is going to be my gift from you guys it had better be good, Dammon is the only one who thought about me!" They know it isn't true and Tav doesn't really mean it but it does get them into motion a little faster.

Dammon and Tav are panting and spent so it's no hard task to move them about, Halsin slipping underneath Tav because he's always their favorite napping spot, moving them away from Dammon to lavish them in kisses all along their face and neck, along the collar/necklace of the finery. Tav buries their face in his neck while Karlach slips into place with a little help from Zevlor, who is very into this actually. She settles underneath Tav, the perfect spot to have them in her mouth while Halsin keeps them steady over her, his hands all but engulfing Tav's hips.

Karlach makes sure she does it slow, matching the pace Halsin had been kissing Tav at, relishing the taste of their climax from Dammon who is currently cuddled beside Halsin and covering Tav in more kisses while they're nestled into Halsin's chest. Zevlor is (as always) very careful when he gets himself ready, and once he is Karlach removes herself (very reluctantly) so that Zevlor can push himself into Tav without risking hurting either of them.

Tav comes on the spot because gods he's so big they always forget how big, and the over sensitivity hits them like a brick to the chest. That doesn't stop him though, because they're all getting their fair turn.

Zevlor has Tav pressed against Halsin so tight, fucked into them so deep, so quickly, that they're already blissfully incoherent, it doesn't take long for Zevlor to come from both the spectacle they'd watched with Dammon and how Tav is punch-drunkenly begging for his cock. He gets all of it in, knot included, pressing reverent kisses all of Tav's back, cooing at them for being so good, for taking him so well, for taking their birthday gift so well, even though Tav is drooling incoherent mess already.

No rest for the wicked though because the second Zevlor slips out and Tav had a much needed break (cleanup and water, so much water), Karlach has them flipped over, back to Halsin's chest, legs wide and her strap easing into Tav like a fiend taking her prize. She's slower than Zevlor had been, but to let Tav breathe and take it in, between her and Zevlor the ridges were driving Tav crazy. Halsin is certainly not helping, keeping Tav's thighs in his hands, legs spread and on display as Karlach fucks them so slow. She edges them for a little while before relenting and fucking them proper, not quite as feral as Zevlor had but the enthusiasm is just as unmatched, praising Tav for being so good for Mama K and that has them coming on the spot, their vision spotting a bit because gods how many times was that now?

Karlach slips away after they come again, praise and kisses and more tender care until Tav recoup enough for the last, but it's not another round, no it's definitely the cool down before they all rest. Halsin takes all the finery off, gently sets it aside, gives Tav all the sweetest kisses in the world, and then Tav goes to one of their favorite spots in the whole world. Right between Halsin's legs, slick, wet and hot from having bore witness to Tav getting absolutely ravaged by the others. Tav wastes zero time getting him off, it doesn't take much considering he was close to coming untouched just as the spectacle, sucking on his fat clit and then licking every last bit of him clean. Tav stays there after, slow fucking his cunt with their tongue and letting the oral fixation come into play, and when they eventually pull another orgasm out of him, they pull back and call it quits.

Then it's just the most massive cuddle pile, Tav on top of Halsin, Dammon curled up close, Karlach behind Dammon and Zevlor on Halsin's other side. Every tiefling tail is wrapped around some part of Tav and they all give them sweet little kisses until they fall asleep wishing them a happy birthday.

Next day is the best bath ever (Zevlor joins cause he loves to do aftercare baths) Halsin makes breakfast for everyone and they all eat in bed, Dammon takes a day away from the forge so Tav and him can stay snuggled in bed all day cause Tav needs the company and they rest go about their day while Tav is pleased as punch with their extended birthday 💞

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captain-grammar · 2 years

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My main take-aways from Zach and Keith's conversation on the latest TryPod episode, for anyone interested in one woman's Thoughts And Opinions:

I truly commend Zach, Keith and Miles for approaching the podcast with some level of humour; whether it's a case of "if we don't laugh, we'll cry" or after a month, they're ready to make jokes or they simply wanted to maintain a level of normalcy for us, the audience, I appreciate the levity of certain moments. Zach, for the love of God, get that dishwasher fixed!

The fact that Keith referred to the grieving process as being cyclical and he kept/keeps going through it... Man, I truly feel for him. I think the more time they have to process the various levels of Ned's actions, the more it'll happen. The whole process must traumatic to go through and I truly hope it'll get easier with time.

To hear Keith, Zach and Miles comment on how the stress of the situation has affected them was heartbreaking. Keith's anxiety about being in public and having to discuss it, Zach putting his self-care on the back burner, Miles losing weight... They don't deserve to be going through it like this, especially because they're not the ones in the wrong.

There was genuine concern from Keith and Zach (and we cn probably assume the same for Eugene) that any of their personal/side projects would take a knock-on hit as a result of this situation; it seems that not only were they worried that their own reputations would be tainted by association but Zach voiced that he was worried that a short film/writing project he had planned might not go ahead now as a result of having to take the time to address this matter instead. I cannot stress enough how selfish Ned's actions were; he put everyone else's career at risk as well as his own.

Given the way the entire podcast they seemed to be truly careful about what they said and how studious and meticulous it sounds like they've been throughout the entire process (farming out the HR review to a 3rd party, legal advice etc.), they must be genuinely concerned about legal repercussions and the potential for any lawsuit and claims against them. Whether that's because they really want to do this as by-the-book as they can or whether certain parties intimated that they might take legal action remains to be seen. I give the 2nd Try team full props for covering all their bases and protecting their brand and staff going forward.

The damned statements. Zach and Keith made it clear that while they let Ned see the public statement they posted to social media in advance, they never saw his. They also made it *very clear* what they thought might have been Ned's motivation behind making both their statements look as though they'd been created and posted in concert: they believe that it was a calculated move on Ned's part to give the subliminal impression that there was a level of synchronicity and support between the two parties where clearly none exists.

Zach states that what Ned did was a "workplace violation". From that, we can infer that there was definitely something in Ned's contract or in the company paperwork that told him that fraternising with any of the company's employees in a romantic way was a big no-no. He knew what he was doing was wrong. He knew what he was doing went against company policy. He knew he'd get fired. He did it anyway.

The announcement that Eugene will be taking a step back from the podcast wasn't a huge surprise. The guy is incredibly private and guarded and I always got the impression that being open and vulnerable in the podcasts was a little uncomfortable for him. I look forward to his guest appearances!

I'm glad they're not ruling out Ariel remaining on the You Can Sit With Us podcast and that they're more than happy for her to take as much time as she needs to heal and get into a better headspace; that the door is always open for her.

The not-so-casual shade Miles threw at "a certain employee who would always walk out" during the Advice That Will Go For Miles song was truly a thing of beauty and if you didn't stan him before, you should for that alone

This might not be the end of the situation - perhaps in the future when the dust settles and the legal side of things has been locked up, we'll get more information - but for now I'm glad that the boys have a chance to take a breath and move on. As a fan of the Guys, I'll still be watching and supporting them. They haven't lost an inch of ground with me and I cannot wait to see what the future holds.

#the try guys #the trypod #keith habersberger #zach kornfeld #miles bonsignore #ned fulmer #honestly FUCK THAT GUY #bry rants

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tblsomedoodles · 2 years

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So I made the comment about Donnie and Mama dancing, then you made the picture, then someone else made a comment about the first time they danced after the reunion, and well... this happened.

There was always something so alluring to Donnie about Big Mama’s social events. He always thought it was because he enjoyed dancing so much. That had to have been all it was right? It was just because he loved dancing.

And even when he found out that big mama was his mom, even once he accepted that fact, he still chose to believe that his love of dancing was just from him and how calming it was when his mind was far too busy. But then he saw the pictures.

Big Mama had so. Many. Pictures. Splinter’s picture albums couldn’t even compete with the sheer number of books recording every single little thing that he or his siblings had done, even if it was just something silly like smiling in a patch of flowers.

There was this one picture. He didn’t tell Big Mama that he took it, but she knew. And Donnie knew she knew because Leo knew, and if Leo knew then there was no way Big Mama didn’t know, right?

It was a picture of him, smaller then he could imagine with a backpack with spider limbs, just in Mama’s arms while she danced. It made him long for that experience.

Donnie didn’t know how to tell her that. He couldn’t even wrap his head around what a conversation like that was going to be like. After all, Big Mama may be his mom but she wasn’t always the best at it.

Take Battle Nexus: New York for example. That was a catastrophic mistake on her part, but she didn’t know that Shredder was a generational curse. She didn't know that her kids wouldn’t enjoy a battle with their favorite opponents doing the things that they loved most. Alright they enjoyed it, just not the forced part. How could she have expected that? She hadn't been a parent in, how old were they again? It was at least a decade that they were away from her, and she was a different person. At least a different kind of person from them. She didn't do good things most of the time, but she tried to be supportive at least.

Donnie wasn’t good with emotions though, and when the thoughts got too big, and everything got too heavy, and he couldn’t breathe anymore, he turned to music, and he turned to dancing. He always had. After all, the rhythm of music was calming, the sways settling down his anxieties, wrapping him up in the sure way of how it should be.

No, Donnie didn’t know how to tell Big Mama any of this, but he wanted to. He wanted to share with her the fact that, while he didn’t exactly remember the dancing, an effect that he assumed came from the mutation, he wanted to experience it. So, during one of their weekends, when everyone else was busy doing whatever it is they were busy doing, he went up to Big Mama’s office, closed the door, and gave her a proposition.

“Mama, I want you to teach me to dance.”

Big mama’s eyes lit up, but the rest of her demeanor remained calm, contemplative. The excitement felt so much like Mikey’s. The kind where he experienced something so good that he started flapping his hands and bouncing around. But the calm, the calm was definitely like Leo. A controlled state where any information given was meticulously planned out. Those expressions were all it took to wipe out any possible remaining doubt that they were related. Even when the spider arms made it undeniable.

“You want me to teach you how to dance? Where is this coming from?”

Donnie, nervous and trying to hide it, cleared his throat. His two sets of arms were tinkering away with a small gadget, curbing the anxiety as he focused on the conversation. “I want you to teach me how to dance. What I know, I’ve taught myself. Theoretically I could have asked Mikey, but he does ballet, and I want something different. After all, there’s so many different kinds of dance, but there’s always been something comforting about the way you do it. So, could you?”

“Teach you?” The sheer joy in Mama’s tone had Donnie at a loss for words. Everything he had planned to say, anything he could have thought to counter with, was out of his mind in an instant. It was so rare that he heard a parental figure sound excited to do something with him.

So instead he just nodded and watched as Big Mama, his Mama, rose from her chair and crossed the room to him. Her arms were wide as she offered him a hug that he gladly took, slipping his gadget into one of the pockets of his jacket. He wrapped all of his arms, every single pair, around Mama, holding her tight. The pressure of the hug, the way Mama swayed back and forth, the warmth of Mama’s skin, were all so reassuring and warm, that he just wanted to stay there.

Then Big Mama started humming. It was a song he didn't know, but was ingrained in every fiber of his being, and Donnie could feel his entire body relax. Big Mama hummed and they danced, slowly spinning in place.

Donnie didn’t know how long it was, and he didn’t know how short it was, but at that moment, safe in his Mama’s arms, he didn’t think he could want, or need, anything else.

AWWW!! this is so cute!! I was scaring my cat with how much i was cooing at this lol. Thank you!!

#asks #tmnt #rottmnt #family web au #ficlet

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dashawfrostart · 2 years

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Starting All Over, For The Art

It’s been a while since I wrote any blog posts. I’ve been an incredibly lively blogger back in the day, many many years ago, when I was a teenager. I had numerous blogs back then, and it was always fun and interesting!.. until old-school and wonderfully written blogs became "not cool” anymore, likes became way more popular than comments, and everybody left. And I - in turn - found myself much less capable of writing, for other personal reasons. But things change. The life itself changes, and we also grow. This is my third Tumblr blog already. The previous ones are - unfortunately or to better - no more. I was thinking about practising writing for a while now. And on top of that, I have significantly more artsy things to tell, show, and share. So here I am.

I guess it’s time for me to introduce myself. Nice to meet you (for the first time or again), my friends. I am Dasha W. Frost (or, in short, Frosty), an artist. Perhaps you have seen my artworks scattered around the internet, some of which could’ve been very old, some others - fairly new. My first attempts in drawing took place when I was but a child. I could not even imagine how much my passion for drawing would change me and my life. Now, with years of practice and experience, I can definitely say that that was quite a journey. And there’s way more ahead! You could even possibly say that I used to be an artist nearly whole my life. And I am truly happy about it 😊

This website and blog has its purpose. It’s not only about myself: aside from it serving as an aforementioned “writing playground” to me, I was thinking about sharing my thoughts and impressions concerning other people’s art, what I find nice and beautiful in it, and why it takes special place in my heart as well as how it manifests itself in my own works. I truly believe that people’s creative power is astounding. It’s all about inspirations and what we learn in life - and, most importantly, what helps us understand ourselves and find our own remarkable art style and manner of expression. This is all simply invaluable to me. Here, I would like to share my notes, observations and careful yet meticulous musings on all of that, and share my own works, too.

Just to be clear: I am not planning on posting 100,000 posts a day. I’m planning on posting whenever I have some important news concerning my art projects, and whenever I feel like I have something interesting to tell or think out loud about art and its different, vibrant aspects. Blogging ain’t easy. It requires focus and special manner of writing 😉 Because I used to be a blogger in the past, and I enjoyed it, I’ll try to do my best to bring interesting and colourful artistic content for you to read, look at, laugh at, and quite possibly to watch as well. Buckle up!.. Frosty’s ready to unleash the power of colours and words! 🎨

#first post #meet the artist #what to expect #dashawfrost #artists on tumblr #who i am

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translations-dark-matter · 7 months

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Living as an Extra in an Omegaverse novel

Chapter 39

Se-hyeon looked out the window. Well, the only thing visible was the city near the hospital, but the sky was quite beautiful.

"Why did I do that?"

Why did I assign numbers before the names?

I only did it because I wanted to fit into this world, but I didn't expect to regret it like this. If I had known, I wouldn't have done it.

Se-hyeon looked at the clear sky while hesitating over the coffee he was supposed to bring to Shin Tae-oh. It was almost like reaching enlightenment.

"I thought you were sick."

At the sudden voice, Se-hyeon turned his head to confirm the speaker.

"I thought Secretary Ahn was sick."

Shin Tae-oh mentioned the misunderstanding that led him to come here.

"I saw you until yesterday."

"I pretended to be sick until yesterday, so I got stung."

As Shin Tae-oh grimaced and spoke, Se-hyeon unconsciously nodded his head. Honestly, he did pretend to be sick.

"Someone who always took regular breaks suddenly taking time off, that's why."

"Ah... That could be the case."

Se-hyeon nodded his head and then tilted it sideways as if there was something he didn't understand.

"But why would that be a reason for the boss to come and visit..."

"I thought maybe the cycle suddenly came or something."

While Se-hyeon was surprised and held his breath, Shin Tae-oh brushed his head as if he was frustrated.

"Maybe he wanted to cool down and turned on the water, and then ended up coming to the hospital. I don't know anything."

Se-hyeon couldn't find the words to say in response to Shin Tae-oh's murmuring, so he remained silent.

At that time, I was really out of my mind and didn't remember anything properly, but if something like that happened again...

'I wonder if I'll remember everything. Maybe Shin Tae-oh went further...'

Se-hyeon shook his head, not wanting to think about it anymore.

"My father had surgery, so I came to visit. I'm perfectly fine."

"That's a relief. Oh, or is it?"

Anyway, someone lying down caused Shin Tae-oh to change the subject. He cares about even the things that could just be ignored. That's why Jin-ho can't hate Shin Tae-oh.

"Well, I heard your father needs to stay in the hospital for a week. It would be nice for him to rest comfortably during this opportunity."

"A week."

Se-hyeon recalled the price he found out for a private room in the middle. A week would easily exceed his monthly salary.

"Is it burdensome?"

"Yes."

"Then work hard to repay it. I mean, repay it with your body, not money."

Just telling him to work hard would have been enough, but to repay it with his body... Today, for some reason, Se-hyeon couldn't let go of Shin Tae-oh's every word.

Anyway, Se-hyeon was grateful to Shin Tae-oh for bringing his father to a good hospital room.

"Someday, I will definitely repay you."

"With a verbal promise as unreliable as that, should I write up a contract?"

"A contract?"

"The more grateful you are, the more it shows your determination."

Se-hyeon didn't hide his surprise at Shin Tae-oh's meticulous personality, which was more than he had expected.

"I will do it."

Since he didn't plan on just ending it with words, writing a contract seemed reasonable.

"You thought well. I'll send the contract through the Chief Secretary, so keep that in mind."

It seemed like the situation escalated with the involvement of the Chief Secretary, but Se-hyeon couldn't refuse.

"Yes."

Satisfied with Se-hyeon's answer, Shin Tae-oh turned around. He seemed like he was about to leave, so Se-hyeon followed him to see him off. But then, Shin Tae-oh looked at Se-hyeon with a puzzled expression and asked.

"Are you leaving already? I saw your mother was happy to see you earlier."

"Aren't you leaving, sir?"

"I'll leave later."

What is he talking about?

"It's already evening."

Se-hyeon pointed to the sky. Winter was slowly receding, but the daylight was still short.

"My mother suggested having dinner together."

Who is your mother?

"She said I should eat before leaving, like her own son."

Hasn't she considered that her son might be uncomfortable?

"That's why I asked for a boxed meal at a nearby hotel. The Chief Secretary will bring it."

"I'll open the door for you."

Se-hyeon passed by Shin Tae-oh and opened the door to the hospital room.

After all, the person who brings food is the best.

***

"Oh my, the sushi is melting in my mouth."

Se-hyeon's mother's eyes widened with excitement at the sushi. Shin Tae-oh, with a faint smile, also offered her another boxed meal.

"Try the sea urchin here as well. It's quite delicious."

Not only did he recommend it, but he also served it in a way that was easy for her to eat.

"Thank you."

Se-hyeon's mother happily ate the food recommended by Shin Tae-oh. Se-hyeon's father, who couldn't eat a complete meal yet, couldn't have the sea urchin plate, but his expression brightened with just the abalone porridge.

Thanks to Shin Tae-oh's various recommendations to his mother, Se-hyeon didn't have much to do. He just picked up nearby food and ate, wondering why things turned out this way. He thought he should have taken them to that restaurant last time.

Se-hyeon glanced up and saw Shin Tae-oh looking at him. It seemed like he had realized something belatedly.

"It's delicious," Shin Tae-oh said, turning to Se-hyeon and offering him a steak. It wasn't meant in that sense at all, but Se-hyeon didn't refuse when it was given to him. He quickly devoured the small steak since there was only one piece.

As Se-hyeon took the last bite, he couldn't help but worry if someone else missed out on it.

"It was worth ordering so much," Shin Tae-oh said, as if to reassure him, and extended another plate with a different kind of steak. It was arranged so beautifully that Se-hyeon couldn't find the same menu item.

As Se-hyeon cut and ate the steak, his mother spoke up.

"Se-hyeon eats well. Do you know how rewarding that is for the person who made it?"

"Even the person who serves feels rewarded."

As Se-hyeon listened to the natural conversation between his mother and Shin Tae-oh, he chose to focus on eating his meat and blocked his ears. He didn't want to try to understand anymore.

***

In the end, they returned home in Shin Tae-oh's car.

"I will brief you on tomorrow's schedule."

Lee Jin-ho, sitting in the passenger seat, seemed to plan on briefing and finishing before they even separated. It was almost midnight, so Se-hyeon silently focused on driving.

Getting home as soon as possible was his primary goal at the moment. Se-hyeon's expression, as he pressed the accelerator and increased the speed, was not just serious but grave.

"For lunch, you decided to meet with Yu Jin-ha. I will contact you again in the morning to confirm."

"Wait."

In the late hour, Shin Tae-oh's voice sounded unusually low.

"Did I make plans with Jin-ha?"

"It's an annual fixed schedule."

One schedule that never changes at this time of year. As if it quickly came to mind, Shin Tae-oh pressed the button for his personal amusement.

"Yu Jin-ha's birthday."

Shin Tae-oh had been his secretary for three years already. They would usually meet around lunchtime and have a meal or drink tea together, but it was their choice. They just kept that time empty and confirmed it was their own business.

Se-hyeon glanced at Shin Tae-oh through the rearview mirror. When he turned his head to look outside the window, Se-hyeon caught a glimpse of his profile. His elegant features followed along, and his tightly closed lips were visible.

It's been a while since he had that expression.

He used to always have a relaxed gaze and a gentle smile. But occasionally, he would erase that expression. At times like that, it was best to wait without saying anything. Lee Jin-ho seemed to have the same thought, as he stopped the briefing and looked straight ahead.

After passing through the tollgate, Se-hyeon quickly looked at the familiar surroundings and rushed towards Shin Tae-oh's house.

"We have arrived."

Upon Se-hyeon's words, Lee Jin-ho unbuckled his seatbelt and got out of the car. As Lee Jin-ho opened the backseat door, Shin Tae-oh, who had been waiting, slowly stepped out. Se-hyeon confirmed that Shin Tae-oh had exited and closed the door, then started the engine.

It was to park the car. However, just before the car started moving, the passenger door opened, and someone got in.

At first, Se-hyeon thought it was Lee Jin-ho. But before turning around, he turned his head at the scent of pheromones wafting in.

"Why...?"

Who was it?

"Let's just go."

As Shin Tae-oh pulled the seatbelt and spoke, Se-hyeon couldn't utter a word and stepped on the accelerator. Even as they entered the underground parking lot, Se-hyeon continued to wonder why Shin Tae-oh was acting like this.

"I don't know."

There was a time when Se-hyeon believed he knew Shin Tae-oh inside out. He thought he knew everything about him, how to catch his attention, who he liked. There were many times when Se-hyeon moved before he even spoke. But lately, he couldn't see through that calm exterior at all.

"We've parked."

So now, get out.

Se-hyeon unbuckled his seatbelt but didn't let go of his focus on Shin Tae-oh. If anything, he became more sensitive, pulling him closer. Even the simple act of Shin Tae-oh unbuckling his seatbelt felt frustratingly slow.

"I won't make any excuses."

Shin Tae-oh came in without being asked. It wasn't what I wanted.

"Don't tell me now that you've never liked Jin-ha."

I didn't ask. By the way, if you're mentioning Yu Jin-ha, it must be bothering you that I mentioned tomorrow's schedule.

"But you know that I've changed a lot, right?"

I don't want to know.

"I'm really speaking carefully."

The tone is assertive.

"I..."

As always, Se-hyeon showed no emotions and waited for Shin Tae-oh to continue his vague sentence.

Or should I avoid it?

It's clear that he's about to ask for a date...

It took me a moment to cancel the schedule with Yu Jin-ha and offer my hand to him.

"Is it alright for the secretary to come to your house?"

As expected.

"I'm sorry. I... I bought it for a lot of money but haven't used it once."

I knew he was talking about the dish. But wait, you have the same dish at your house too. It's not like I brought them all to your place.

"If it's the dish... feel free to come anytime."

It seemed pointless to argue, so I said it casually.

"Sure. Let's have a meal together tomorrow."

Taenyang didn't miss the opportunity.

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nationalharryleague · 4 years

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Two for the Show

Summary: Jeff plans for Harry’s new opening act to be more than that.

Genre: Famous Fake Dating!

Word Count: 17.1k!

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A/N: Hey babes!! This is something I’ve been working on since December now and I’m so fucking proud of it and how it turned out!!! It’s the longest thing I’ve ever written and I’m so so so excited to hear what everyone has to say!! Giant thank you’s go out to the incredible soph (@theharriediaries) and Lu (@meetmymouth) bc this never would have come to fruition without them and their help!! Please let me know what you think!! More of my writing can be found in my masterlist!! Happy reading y’all :)

***

Keeping appearances in the public eye is a delicate balance.

If Y/N was being honest with herself, everything Full Stop Management had ever suggested to her had worked, and very well. When they suggested her music took a more pop direction, they set her up with a team of fantastic producers and her music sales and popularity skyrocketed. And when they set up an appointment with a celebrity stylist to figure out her signature style, it worked; they turned her into the 1970’s inspired goddess she had always dreamed of being. Even the hours of media training that she had been put through worked, helping her learn how to bob and weave even the most intrusive of interview questions.

But this time, she thought they might be going too far.

“Jeff,” she began with a sigh and a doubtful shake of her head, “I don’t know about this one.”

“It’s just a few months before and during the tour,” explained the man sitting across from her at the long conference table. “You’ll be seen in public a few times to drum up publicity for the tour and your album, maybe do an interview or two together, and some light PDA.”

His expression was honest and earnest. In the time he had represented her, he had never done anything to her that didn’t help her succeed. It was not hard for her to believe that he just wanted what was best for her and her career.

But something kept holding her back.

“I just got my heart broken in the most public way,” she said softly, absentmindedly fiddling with the base of her ring finger where an engagement ring once sat. “Isn’t it a little too soon to be seen jumping back into a whirlwind romance?”

“I don’t think so. If anything, it will make James look even worse than he already does after what he did to you.” She had to admit the idea of a little revenge did perk her ears up a bit. “And it doesn’t hurt that Harry is so universally loved and known for being such a good guy.”

That was another reason she was skeptical of this entire plot. This was Harry Styles they were talking about; Harry fucking Styles. She had only met him once or twice while working out details for her to be the opening act for his upcoming tour, but she had been a big fan of his and idolized him since she was a teen. Just meeting him threw her inner 16 year old self for a loop, let alone trying to pretend she was in love with him.

In all honesty, it probably wouldn’t be too hard on her end once she got over being starstruck; she wasn’t so sure she still wasn’t kind of in love with him, or at least the version the public saw.

“Listen,” Jeff began again, his voice taking on a bluntness, “no one cares about the opening act. No one bought tickets to see you; they’re there to see Harry.” His words stung but she knew it was the truth. “But if they think you are a part of Harry’s life, they care about you too. And they will keep on caring about you after they leave the show.” Her apprehensiveness must have been clear on her face when he put on a gentle smile. “He’s a really nice person. I promise.”

“I know,” she breathed, a small pout finding its way to her lips. “Fine,” she conceded after a moment, throwing her hands up in the air dramatically to signal surrender. “I’m in.”

A triumphant grin spread across his face. “Thank you. I’ll go call Harry and tell him you’re down.” She watched as he got up from his chair and came towards her, pressing a brief and friendly kiss to the top of her head. “You won’t regret this, Y/N.”

“I better not, Azoff,” she chuckled while shaking her head slightly.

Soon she was alone in the conference room, basking in the light from the floor to ceiling windows that sat before her.

“What did I just get myself into?” she mumbled quietly to herself.

***

The answer to that question came two weeks later when she was sitting across a table from the Harry Styles at a small outdoor brunch spot in LA. Their meeting place was strategic, a small restaurant, not too flashy so it didn’t look like they were seeking attention, but outdoors where anyone could see. It was only a matter of time before he was recognized, and the sighting was almost guaranteed to be trending on Twitter only minutes later.

She couldn’t say that she wasn’t nervous. The inside of her mouth had been chewed raw and the bags under her eyes showed she had been having trouble sleeping in the nights leading up to their first appearance together. By the end of the day, she would most likely have countless articles written about her and possibly have millions of angry fangirls coming after her; even though their “relationship” wouldn’t be officially confirmed for a few weeks.

If all went to Jeff’s plan, she would become an A-lister overnight.

She stood in front of her closet for over an hour, trying on and taking off outfits before finally settling on her favorite pair of bright red corduroy flares and a crisp white textured halter top. She paired the outfit with a new pair of heeled leather boots. They were a flashy pair that were split down the middle, bright yellow on one side and white with yellow stars on the other, hoping Harry would appreciate the bold colors.

She meticulously did her makeup, sure to match her lipstick color exactly to the shade of her pants; and spent far too long in front of the mirror fussing with her hair, praying it would lay the way she wanted it to.

She knew that she was going to be photographed in some way shape or form, and with the fashion icon himself. She had to look good. He had been on the cover of Vogue for god’s sake.

When she finally arrived at the cafe, Harry sat quietly across from her. He looked casual, or as casual as Harry Styles gets. A yellow t-shirt, that was tight enough to look as if it was painted on, showed off his muscular chest and arms. His iconic tattoos illustrated his arms and she hoped he wouldn’t notice as she covertly tried to examine closely. He uncomfortably ran his palms down the legs of his high waisted denim flares that had been paired with his signature pearl necklace and ratty, but well loved, white vans.

And she couldn’t forget his rings. His signature gold ‘H’ and ‘S’ looked back at her as he gently grasped his flute filled to the brim with a mimosa, bringing it to his pink lips that were surrounded by the short stubble he had been wearing lately.

The pair sat in a slightly awkward silence, both seeming to down their mimosas quickly just because it was something to do with their hands and could occupy their lips so they didn’t have to talk.

To say she was panicking, wouldn’t be too much of an over exaggeration. She was sitting across from one of the world’s biggest stars, and as one of his biggest closeted fans. The things he could do for her career were astronomical and it was hard to ignore that, but she also had a hard time getting over the way his hair seemed to fall into perfect tousled curls and his dreamy green eyes.

She had been in love with him (or at least the idea of him) since she was 16. She couldn’t help it.

But the bottomless mimosas helped to break her anxiety, and apparently his as well, as they both began to feel a slight buzz.

“So how did Jeff end up talking you into this?” Harry eventually broke the silence, the alcohol lowering his naturally shy inhibitions just enough to kick off their conversation.

She let a playful eye roll take over her face before she began. “Oh Jeff,” she said jokingly, letting out a long sigh. “I was convinced somewhere in between ‘it’ll make your ex look bad’ and a stern ‘no one ever cares about the opening act,’” she chuckled, while sarcastically wagging her finger in the air, dramatically re-enacting his scolds.

He sucked in a breath through his teeth, letting out a dramatic ‘ouch.’ “He’s not always gentle, is he?” matching her chuckle.

“He knows where to hit you where it hurts,” she laughed, while nodding in agreement. “How did he convince you?”

“Coincidently, he also took a low blow involving my ex. I believe his words were ‘You wrote an entire album about her and haven’t dated anyone since and it makes you look kind of pathetic.’” He dramatically used air quotes and did his best impression of Jeff’s American accent. She couldn’t hold back the giggles that erupted from her.

“Oh my goodness,” she let out through slightly buzzed giggles, “you definitely win.”

From that point, their conversation began to flow more easily, easing her anxiety as she learned he was generally easy to talk to. He laughed at her jokes, and she laughed at his. He really did have the calming and disarming quality that people always said he had, like could melt down any walls and convince you to be honest with him, even if you didn’t really want to be. She was shocked to find that she wanted him to genuinely be a friend to her so badly. He was just so nice and such a good listener.

Their conversation took a turn when Harry’s super power of knowing when his picture was being taken kicked in. “Give me your hand,” he said to her, diverting from the pleasant conversation they had been having about their families. “Don’t look but there’s someone across the street taking photos of us.”

His instructions brought her back to the reality that they weren’t really friends and that all of this was for show.

She brought her hand up to meet his, strategically resting on the side of the table that faced the street, giving the camera the best view. The cool metal of his hand full of rings felt good against her skin that had been baking in the hot LA sun and he passed his thumb over her knuckles with faux affection.

She couldn’t help but feel a dishonest weight pulling on her heart. She knew everything was going to plan and this was all for the best, but it also felt slightly wrong. She played with her small heart shaped earring to distract herself from the sinking feeling.

“Harry,” she began, knowing the people across the street were out of ear shot. Her voice brought his attention from her hand back up to her eyes. “Does this feel wrong to you at all?”

“How so?”

“It just feels dishonest, like we’re lying to millions of people, our–well, mostly your fans.” She couldn’t help but correct herself.

His eyes softened at her words, like he was taking in the innocence she still held onto after only being in the industry for a short time, compared to his decade in the spotlight.

“I try not to think of it as lying,” he spoke slowly after a moment of thinking. He nodded along softly to punctuate his words. “When you think about all this as lying, it starts to weigh pretty heavy on you as a person. I try to be as honest as possible in my music and daily life, but that’s not always what people want to see. They want a show that will entertain them, and it is our job to give it to them.”

“I see,” she mused.

They sat together for another hour or so, allowing their small mimosa buzz to wear off enough for them to drive the short distances to their homes. The pair eventually found their way back to a comfortable conversation, but Harry’s comment about being in the public eye still weighed on her.

Suddenly, she wasn’t sure if all of this was worth it. Y/N was a master at dodging a question and turning the charm to 10 when it was needed, but she wasn’t a liar and she definitely wasn’t an actress. She hoped she (or Jeff) hadn’t bitten off more than she could chew with all of this.

Harry eventually walked her back to her car that was parked a few blocks away, and while she was sure he was doing it for the cameras, she didn’t doubt that he would have done it even if they weren’t there. He just seemed like that kind of guy to her; caring and trustworthy.

“Thank you for a very nice date, Harry,” she said, winking and chuckling along with the extra emphasis she put on the last word.

“My pleasure,” he smiled down at her. He moved along with her as she walked to the driver's side door, opening it for her like a perfect gentleman. The two stood close, his body hovering over her’s as they stood inside the open door. Her heart rose to her throat as he leaned down to her and pressed a gentle kiss to her burning cheek.

Y/N looked back up at him with rosy cheeks and a tightlipped bashful smile. She watched as he walked backward carefully, taking her hand that had been locked with his until he was too far and let it fall back to her body.

She situated herself in her drivers seat and was ready to leave when she heard a knocking on the passenger side window that startled her. Harry had bent himself over and was motioning for her to roll the window down. When she did, he leaned himself in, an honest look in his eyes.

“Before you go,” he said gently. “A word of advice from someone who had been in the public eye for a long time,” he spoke with a tender yet serious tone, eyes locking with hers. “When you go home today, don’t go on social media. People are mean, and it’s just going to hurt.” She nodded along with his words and watched as he pinched his bottom lip. “And when you inevitably can’t resist, text me if you need to talk about it.”

***

They must have done a good job putting on their show because within an hour of her returning home to her apartment, they were all anyone was talking about. Their names were trending worldwide #1 on Twitter. Streams of Y/N’s debut album were up by 800%, and even Harry’s streams had taken a considerable jump. Y/N had gained 40,ooo new followers and views on every interview she had ever done were steadily rising.

All was going according to Jeff’s plan.

Harry’s words circled her brain for hours. “Don’t go on social media,” she heard him say over and over again as she paced her apartment, only stopping to look at the phone sitting on the kitchen counter every so often.

She had taken a shower, done her hair, tried to watch TV, cooked herself dinner, and even tried to sit down and write a song; it all got her nowhere fast. The unknown was eating at her inside.

Y/N broke when she heard the small ding signaling she had gotten a text message. She had all but sprinted to see who it was, reunited with the outside world through her touch screen. Unsurprisingly, it was from Jeff; the message sent to her and an unknown number she assumed to be Harry’s.

Good job, kiddos., was all it read but there was a photo attached to the message. Her heart stopped while she waited for the photo to load, cursing her slow wifi in the process. After a few breathless moments, the photo came through.

It was a screenshot from the website of one of the biggest entertainment magazines in the country. A picture of him kissing her cheek was the front page of the website.

Harry Styles and Y/N Y/L/N Rumored To Be Music’s New Power Couple Ahead of Tour

She was honestly speechless. This was huge.

She would like to say the sheer shock blurred her judgement, but the curiosity just got the better of her. Harry’s words repeated over and over again in her head, telling her not to, even as her finger connected with the icon of the little blue bird.

She was the most talked about topic in the entire world, her name hovering in bold letters on the trending page. She did everything she could to not click on her name, but her fingers did it all on her own.

The first few tweets were nice. Someone said they liked her style and that they looked cute together as a couple. Another said that they had always enjoyed her music and that they were happy for them.

But as she scrolled, it became harsher and just mean. People commented on her weight, said she couldn’t sing, and criticized her personality as seeming fake and forced. Her eyes were locked on the screen, unable to look away, as her heart began to break and few tears began to roll.

It took one final, and the most painful, tweet for her to consider deleting her account completely. She swiped out of the app fast, but the words were still burned into her brain.

Y/N is using Harry, just like she used James before he got rid of her and found someone better.

The words knocked the wind out of her, pouring salt on an open wound that had yet to heal.

She also had the little blue bird for that heartbreak as well. When she opened the app two months ago, the first thing she saw was pictures of her (former) fiance, James, with his tongue down some girl’s throat. At the time she had been devastated, her heart broken beyond repair.

It felt like no one else in the world could understand the way she was feeling. If she was in this position because of another person, they must get it too. The text to Harry was already sent before she had time to think it over.

I looked and I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry that I didn’t listen.

His response came only seconds later.

Don’t be sorry. It’s hard not to. Are you alright?

She had to think about his question, unsure if she knew the answer. Tears were still running down her face and she felt like she was a target the entire world had decided it was open season on. Logically, she knew these people never thought she would see these awful things, but it didn’t excuse the hurt she felt when she did.

I don’t know. I just don’t understand how people can be so cruel.

She felt like she was bothering him, even though he had offered to be there for her. He wasn’t her best friend, or a close confidant; he was her fake publicity boyfriend. He had real friends he wanted to talk to or maybe even a real girlfriend underwraps somewhere. Her body was wracked with guilt as she thought it over.

People are just mean on the internet, okay? They think they can say whatever they want without repercussions. I’m so sorry that you are being targeted because of me.

Before she got a chance to think through a proper response to him, her phone dinged with another text. It was from Jeff again.

Really good job, kiddos.

Y/N was confused. They hadn’t done anything else but be seen together today. Her sick sense of curiosity got her again before she opened Twitter again and looked up Harry’s name. He had tweeted for the first time in six months only a few moments ago.

@Harry_Styles: We treat people with kindness.

***

The next time she saw him was two days later at yet another public meet up Jeff had arranged for them. Unfortunately this time, she had become just as famous as Harry seemingly overnight, the flames of her new found fame growing even larger after he had sent that tweet.

While the fame had grown, the hate had calmed since his statement, which most had taken as an official declaration of their relationship. Now, that was not to Jeff’s plans.

She had to fight her way out of her apartment complex, wearing a pair of massive dark sunglasses with circular lenses and shielding her face with her hands the best she could. But she did have to admit that the electric orange fabric of her jumpsuit probably didn’t do much to help her blend in and avoid the attention of the paparazzi that had now found out where she lived.

Harry was sitting at the table by himself facing the back of the cafe when she arrived, two cups of coffee waiting before him to be drank together placed delicately on the table. He had his head down, buried in a book, before she startled him with a hug from behind. Her cheek connected with his warm neck where she buried her head into him and she took in his dizzying cologne.

She felt him jump beneath her as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pressing a dramatic and cheesy kiss to his cheek, feeling his light stubble prick her chapsticked lips. “My hero,” she joked, trying to bring at least a little humor to the man who had just about jumped out of his skin at her touch.

It felt like she was crossing a boundary, and she was pretty sure she was, but she just needed to thank him and a hug felt like the best way to do that while in a semi-crowded coffee shop. Also, playing up that they were madly in love didn’t hurt.

“Jesus Christ,” he breathed, a hand flying over his chest in surprise to feel his racing heartbeat. “You scared the shit out of me.” Once he settled for a moment, his arm moved across his chest to rest on her arm. His touch was gentle and soft, holding her there gently like he didn’t want her to release him from her grasp. She tried not to think about it too much as she slipped her arms off of him, making her way to the seat that was clearly meant for her across from him.

“I’m sorry that I scared you. A little jumpy today?” she teasingly questioned.

“Hey, watch it,” he playfully threatened. “I believe you called me your hero about thirty seconds ago.”

“I guess I did,” she quipped over the mug she was bringing to her lips. It was sweet but not too sweet, with cream but not too much, and still piping hot; just the way she liked it. “I don’t think it’s too far off,” she smiled before turning back to the coffee. “Good coffee,” she mused. “Just the way I like it.”

“Good. I texted Jeff for your order,” he informed her, the gesture being so thoughtful and sweet she could have melted into a puddle right there and then. “And I think ‘hero’ might be a bit much,” he tacked on.

“Don’t be humble, Harry.” While her voice was still light and held a jesting tone, she meant her words. “You made the entire internet leave me alone, for the most part,” she clarified as there were definitely some nasty messages still floating around Twitter, “in five words.”

“It was the least I could do,” he said while shaking his head slightly, seeming to deflect her words.

“You could have done absolutely nothing.” She reached across the table and grabbed his hand in hers like they had staged at the cafe a few days earlier; but this time, it was an honest gesture, not one for a role they were both meant to be playing. Her words were serious, punctuating each with a gentle nod of her head. “I mean it. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” His eyes held the same truthfulness and honesty she hoped she was mirroring in her own. “I know all of this,” he paused and gestured between them with his free hand, “is for publicity, but I consider you a friend. It was hard to watch it all go down like that. You’re a good person and you didn’t deserve all that. I had to do something.”

There was a warmth that flooded her chest. He called me his friend, she thought to herself, fighting back a big toothy grin. She had been under the impression that all of this was just work for him, something he was doing just to drum up publicity, with no personal connections at all. But him calling her a friend meant so much to her. It meant she was not alone in all this terrifying and overwhelming attention.

“I’m glad you think of me as a friend,” she said, still holding back her smile. “You’re my friend too.” He matched her close-lipped smile that had fought its way onto her face at her words.

They sat in silence together for a few moments. Harry returned to his book and Y/N answered emails; but their hands stayed connected across the small table. This silence was very different from the silence on the day they first met. It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence that sat on your tongue, begging you to break the quiet; it was peaceful and safe.

Their silence was broken when a young woman wearing a jittery smile and nervous eyes approached their table. Her voice squeaked out a mouse-like “Hi,” towards the both of them, bringing their eyes up to meet hers and instinctively breaking their hands away from each other.

“I’m so so sorry to be a bother,” she began, cheeks red and hot. “But I’m a really big fan of both of you and I would never forgive myself if I didn’t say hello.” She rambled excitedly, mostly looking at Harry, as she held her slightly shaky hands up to her chest.

“Hello,” Harry said with one of his million dollar smiles. “What’s your name?”

“I’m Emma,” she breathed.

“Well, it’s so nice to meet you Emma.” He spoke gently with her, clearly sensing her anxiety, extending his hand for her to shake. “Thank you for all of your support.”

Y/N watched closely as he spoke with her. He spoke to her like she was the only person in the room, giving her his whole undivided attention, and repeatedly thanking her as she flooded him with compliments about how his music and message of kindness meant so much to her. She was so entranced that she nearly didn’t hear her own name being said as the girl turned towards her.

“I love your music as well,” she grinned, clearly more comfortable after her short conversation with Harry. “And your jumpsuit is just incredible.” Her nervous giggle was contagious, Y/N releasing one as well at the compliment as her cheeks heated slightly. She was shocked she even knew any of her music, clearly being the less popular of the pair.

“Thank you so much, Emma. It means a lot.”

Emma took a few quick selfies with the both of them (that would be everywhere within a few hours), said goodbye and went to leave the two, but not before she paid them one last compliment. “You two are really cute together. I’m rooting for you.”

Both of their cheeks warmed as they looked back at each other. They were quiet for a moment, unsure how to respond, before Harry turned his attention back to the girl with a coy smile. “I am too,” was all he said.

***

The next three weeks passed in a blur of tour rehearsals, fittings, and public meetings with Harry. And then all of a sudden, it was the night of the first show.

Y/N had never been so nervous in her entire life. She would be the first face seen by just over 19,000 people, tasked to warm up the crowd and prepare them for Harry, which was enough pressure. And then there was the chance that they all hated her guts.

She stood behind the curtain, listening to the loud and inpatient crowd as she paced back and forth. She white-knuckeld her guitar, trying to keep her violently shaking hands from being too visible to the crew around her. Her stomach swirled and her palms were clammy, constantly having to rub them on the pants of her icey blue jumpsuit. It fit her like a glove, the wide legged pants and slight shoulder pads, creating a perfect hourglass silhouette; the only thing she was confident in at the moment was how good she looked in it.

Her heart leapt out of her chest and she almost hit the ceiling when a small voice appeared over her shoulder, whispering “You’re going to do great,” in her ear. If her heart wasn’t about to give out before, it was now. She swung around to face him, almost hitting Harry with her guitar, letting out a small breath of relief when her eyes met his own. They always seemed to calm her down a bit.

“I’m kinda freaking out, H,” she anxiously babbled, using the nickname he had told her to call him. “This is the biggest crowd I’ve ever played in front of, and they probably all hate me because they think I’m dating you, and I have to make sure I do a good job so they start listening to my music; and I just…” she trailed off for a second, uncomfortably scratching the back of her neck, “I just can’t let you down.”

His face softened at her words, seeming to take pity on her. “Y/N,” he began, resting his hands on her shoulders and looking so deep into her eyes she felt like he could probably see her soul. “We picked you to open because people love your music and the way that you perform. You just have to go out there and do what you do best: sing your heart out and put on a good show. It’s only 25 minutes. I know you can do it.”

Every word that left his lips was laced with honesty and encouragement; just enough for Y/N to relax her furrowed brow and give her lip a break from her constant chewing. “I can do it,” she softly repeated back to him, still not breaking contact with his striking green eyes.

A stage manager passed by them, running to some other important task, but not before tapping her shoulder. “You’re on in 30 seconds,” he spoke, just as she heard the roar of the crowd begin, signalling the dimming of the lights in the arena.

“Go kick some ass,” he winked, stepping backwards from her and releasing her from his grasp. “I’ll be watching.”

Walking on stage, she wasn’t met with ‘boo’s that had plagued her nightmares, or mean looks from the audience, or rotten tomatoes thrown from the crowd.

They were screaming in excitement, screaming for her.

From the second she started playing, the crowd had her back; the ones that knew the words to her songs sang them along with her, and the ones that didn’t, happily danced to her voice. Before long, the smile she had forced onto her face was genuine, and her set passed by with ease. When her 25 minutes were up, she wasn’t sure if she wanted to get off the stage.

She took her final bow as the crowd roared, running off of the stage into the wings, looking for one person in particular. And when she found him, she threw herself into Harry’s open and waiting arms. “I told you that you were going to do great!” He spoke excitedly into her ear and he held her close to his body, his arms wrapped around her waist tight.

She liked the way it felt to be in his arms.

Pulling away from him, she saw the massive grin that he wore for her, noting how adorable his dimples were and how the excited look in his eyes made him look like a little kid. But there was more to his face than excitement, he looked proud.

“They were so nice to me, and they knew my songs, and they were screaming so loud for me, and it just went so well. I can’t believe it!” Her previous anxious chatter had become an exhilarated rambling and she felt on top of the world.

“I can,” he grinned, looking down at his watch quickly. “I have to go get changed.” If she wasn’t so amped up, she might have noticed the disappointment that flashed over his features. “Promise me you’ll watch the show?”

“Pinky swear?” She stuck up her little finger in the air.

“Pinky swear.” He kept their pinkies locked for a moment too long, then released her hand and ran backstage to get dressed.

She kept her promise and watched with excitement as the building shook when Harry took the stage.

She had never heard something quite so loud, sure her ears would be ringing when she snuggled into her bunk on the tour bus that night. Watching him perform was mesmerizing; he knew how to work a stage in every way and make every person in the arena feel like he was singing just for them. He was larger than life while performing and his little dances and mannerisms only got more pronounced the more comfortable he got on stage. He messed with Mitch, who she had only met a few hours ago (he was very nice), and constantly praised Sarah on the drums behind him, while he looked over to Adam and sent him smiles often.

Everyone in the building came for a show, and boy, did he give them one. It was amazing to watch. There was a reason she was a fan.

Bouncing off the stage, full of adrenaline and in a post-show high, he came to find her. It wasn’t hard, as she had never left her spot on the side of the stage, unable to rip her eyes away from the man before her.

“Oh my god, Harry! That was incredible!” she said with delighted amazement.

“I’m glad you liked it.” He was smiling down at her with a big toothy grin, a hand running through his sweaty hair and pushing it off his forehead. “They only get better from here.”

***

He was telling the truth. The shows only got crazier and more exciting as the tour went on, and so did their “relationship.”

About five shows in, Jeff had Harry given her his “H” ring to start wearing. Harry didn’t seem too phased by it all even though she thought it might be too much, saying “it’s like a friendship bracelet.” But it was too big for her fingers, not because she had small hands, but because Harry’s were absolutely massive. She wore it on a chain around her neck from then on and made sure to always be seen playing with it.

Fans took notice and loved it.

A little after that, Jeff sent them off to get matching manicures. Both had a melting rainbow of oranges, pinks, and browns on their fingertips, which looked amazing in the paparazzi photos of them walking around with their fingers intertwined.

The fans loved that too.

But when she “accidentally” posted a photo of Harry on her story, the entire world lost it’s shit. In the photo, he laid sprawled across a bed in only a white hotel robe that was creeping dangerously high up his thigh. He looked sleepy and slightly sweaty, in a post-fuck haze, and clothes that looked very similar to ones she had been seen wearing in public only days before were strewn across the floor. The caption read “I love getting to love you.”

The photo had strategically only been up for about 30 seconds, but by the time it was deleted thousands of people had seen it and screenshots had been taken. They quickly circulated the internet, creating a bit of scandal. But more than anything, people began to love the two of them together even more. Harry looked genuinely happy in the photo, and for most of his fans, that was all that mattered.

They were creating a fairytale love story for an audience, but she would be lying if she said she wasn’t enjoying her role. She quite liked being his “girlfriend.”

Harry and Y/N had a way of clicking as they grew closer–quite literally as they were crammed together on a tour bus most of the time. They seemed to be able to finish each other’s sentences and always beat the other to the punchline of a joke. The pair had begun to pick up on the other’s mannerisms and habits; Y/N always teasing that Harry was going to rub his nose off one day if he kept rubbing it while he was thinking and Harry always knowing when she got enough sleep by whether or not she had put on eyeliner that morning. They swapped playlists back and forth in their bunks as they tried to doze off and always grabbed a cup of coffee for whoever had decided to sleep in the next day, now knowing the other’s order by heart.

There was only one thing she didn’t know about him that she longed to discover: what his lips felt like against her own. She could never think too hard about it though, or she may just explode.

He had become a calming presence and was currently helping her keep her cool, even though she knew the pair of interviewers across the table were getting ready to grill the pair for every detail they could get. His hand had settled on top of her knee to quell it’s nervous bouncing, but remained after she had stopped, even though no one could see his touch under the table. She watched as his thumb ran itself back and forth along the leg of her flashy orange and yellow patterned overalls and she had a hard time pulling her gaze away when the radio host across the large table began to speak.

“So Harry,” the bald man began. “Fine Line has been one of the biggest albums of the year and I just have to say I love it. It’s truly incredible.” She listened as the man continued on to sing Harry’s praises, going on to list his grammy nominations, sold out world tour, and other accolades. She couldn’t help but smile as she watched his cheeks tinge pink with the praise. She knew anyone watching would pick up on her adoring look and people fawn over it, but she knew her gaze was nothing but truthful.

“Thank you very much,” he said shyly, shaking his head slightly as he spoke into the microphone suspended in front of his face. “You’re too kind.”

“Stop being humble,” she teased him, playfully tapping him on the arm. “All of his music is fantastic,” she said turning her attention back to the man across from them, “especially Fine Line.”

“And there’s Y/N, being the supportive girlfriend,” the man chuckled.

“I support him in everything he does,” she smiled back, not having to embellish the truth at all. “He is an amazing talent and I think Fine Line shows that.”

It wasn’t hard for her to gush about him. It was actually quite easy. She absolutely adored him, as an artist, a friend, and the focus of her affection. She felt an equal warmth in her cheeks as she watched his get even pinker with her compliments.

“That’s actually something we wanted to ask you about,” the blonde woman sitting next to him piped up, a mischievous glint in her eyes that sent nervous butterflies flying around Y/N’s stomach. “One of the songs on Fine Line, Cherry to be specific, actually features the voice of Harry’s ex, Camille. How does that make you feel as his new girl?”

Y/N did her best not to gag at the woman’s question, gritting her teeth as she plastered on a polite smile. “Well, I think Cherry is a really great song and her voice at the end adds a lot,” she spoke as smoothly as she could, refusing to let on that the question rattled her. Harry’s light squeeze on her knee signalled to her that she had answered the question well.

“It’s also been three years since the song was written,” Harry cut in. “Things are obviously a lot different now.” He connected their eyes for a second while he was leaning back into his seat, sending her a short smile, but she knew him well enough to know it was genuine.

“Oh, definitely,” the woman eagerly agreed. “You’re in a great new relationship with a beautiful girl on your arm.”

“Y/N,” he emphasized her name as the woman had referred to her as a possession of his for a second time, “and I are very happy. Thank you.” To an onlooker, he was calm. To her, he was visibly uncomfortable by her words.

Y/N began to notice a clear pattern as the interview went on. Harry was asked exclusively about his music and the tour, while Y/N only became relevant to their interviewers when they wanted to mention their relationship.

When the man asked Y/N if she felt uncomfortable playing to Harry’s mainly female fanbase every night that are “so obviously jealous of her,” something snapped inside of her, sending all her hours of media training out the window. “I’m not uncomfortable at all,” she said curtly. “His music is great and he puts on an awesome show. I don’t think the audience’s gender really has anything to do with the music.” She watched the man’s face fall before she decided to go on. “And I would like to think that at least a few of them are there for me too. You do know I make music too, right?”

An indignant smirk found its way to her lips as the man stammered out, “yes, of course.”

“Okay. I was just wondering since you have only asked me questions about our relationship since we got here.”

She knew Jeff wouldn’t be happy, but at the moment, she couldn’t care less. They may not have really been dating, but the interviewers didn’t know that. All of their dismissal of her and her career was 100% real.

She had been so worked up that she didn’t even realize Harry’s hand had left her knee until it found its way to rest on her back. She leaned into his touch as he rubbed her back softly while she crossed her arms in front of her.

The interviewers looked at the two of them across the table, jaws both lying on the floor. It was quiet until Harry nonchalantly spoke. “She has a point.”

The last few minutes of the interview passed in an awkward blur that felt suffocating. She felt like she could finally take in a deep breath once they were in the back of a massive SUV being driven away from the studio.

“Jeff is going to have my head,” she mumbled under her breath, nose stuck into her phone as she scrolled Twitter to see what people were saying about her outburst. But before she could read any opinions, Harry's tattooed arm blocked her view as he gently pushed her phone down onto her lap.

“Look at me,” he murmured, beckoning her attention to the other side of the back seat. When she connected her eyes with his, his usual calming aura took over her, softening the stressed crease between her brows. “It’s going to be okay.”

“Harry, I just blew my career up into smoke because I couldn’t deal with a rude interviewer,” she huffed at him.

“No,” he disagreed softly, moving the hand that rested on her arms to interlock his fingers with one of hers. “You stuck up for yourself to people who were ignoring your work and whittling you down to your relationship.”

“But it was rude.”

“It was necessary.”

The car ride to the venue for that night’s concert was quiet, but Harry never let go of her hand, brushing his thumb over her knuckles in a comforting touch. She wasn’t sure if she ever wanted him to let go.

***

It was the early hours of the morning by the time the pair returned to their tour bus and went to crawl into their bunks.

Her performance had gone well and Harry was mesmerizing (as always). He was truly hypnotizing to watch while he performed and she hadn’t missed watching him yet, even as they drew close to the end of the tour. It was the best part of her day and she would miss it dearly after the last show.

She was almost asleep, curtain drawn and cuddled under a pile of blankets, when her cell began to ring. Her heart sank, knowing only one person who would know when she had a sliver of free time (even though it’s debatable if sleeping counts as free time). She was going to get scolded like she was a little kid in the principal's office and she knew it.

“Hi Jeff,” she answered with a sigh as she pulled the curtain back and slid from the bunk, the cold air of the tour bus nipping at her legs.

Her gaze was met by a snuggled up Harry wearing a concerned face across from her in his own bed. He never closed the curtain, not even when she asked politely to muffle his snores, always saying something about how it made him claustrophobic. He sent her a tired smile and mouthed “good luck,” extending a hand for a fist bump as she passed. Knocking their knuckles together put a brief smile on her face before she buckled in for the chewing out she was about to get.

Harry watched her intently as she paced up and down the front of the tour bus as she spoke to Jeff, too far away for him to listen in. Her face gradually turned from anxious, to surprised, to something that would have probably been happiness if she wasn’t so tired.

“Alright, thank you for everything.” She spoke softly when she finally returned to be within earshot for him. “Goodnight Jeff.”

“So?” he murmured groggily at her, brows raised in question at her.

“People loved it,” she said shocked, like she didn’t fully believe it herself. “They think I’m some kind of badass for shutting down a sexist. Which is, like, a lot,” she spoke with a disbelieving chuckle, unable to find the right words in her groggy state. “I don’t really know what to make of it.”

Harry seemed to spring up from his spot in his bed, smacking his head on the top of the bunk in the process, prompting them both to dissolve into a puddle of giggles.

“Don’t get too excited for me,” she laughed. “I cannot be the reason that you hurt yourself and have to cancel a show.”

“I was just too excited to say ‘I told you so,’” he smirked, now rubbing the side of his head through his curls.

“Cocky bastard,” she sarcastically murmured under her breath while dramatically rolling her eyes.

She watched with confusion as Harry left his bed, and after a short and frantic search for his pajama pants so he wouldn’t “offend her eyes,” he moved towards the front of the bus. Her eyes trailed him as he bent down to the small mini fridge and pulled out two beers.

“We have to celebrate.”

It was 2 AM and she had been so ready for bed after a long day. But she knew she could never say no to him. She thanked god that they had a day off tomorrow.

After retrieving her massive and lovingly worn Grateful Dead sweatshirt to protect her from the chilly air, she nearly ran to the front of the bus. His painted pink fingers moved with skill as he popped the bottle caps off with one of his rings, handing it to her and gently nudging his bottle against hers.

“Cheers,” he murmured softly as he looked down at her with a kindhearted smile.

“Cheers,” she seemed to whisper back to him, a flutter in her stomach reminding her how badly she wanted to reach out and connect her lips to his. Instead she slid into the small booth across from him, taking a long sip from the bottle as she watched him do the same.

“I want you to know that I was really proud of you today,” he said as he put his beer down on the table. “Rude interviewers are never easy and you handled it like a champ.”

“Thank you, H,” she nodded, suddenly bashful and unable to make eye contact with him. Her cheeks burned hot as she put all her focus into tracing the rim of the bottle with her finger tip.

“Hey,” he called for her attention and her eyes snapped up to meet his. “I mean it, Y/N.”

“I know you do,” she gently nodded at him. “I’m just really happy they didn’t ask about my ex,” she chuckled as she took another sip. “That would have gone very poorly.”

“Oh yeah, I was a little annoyed they brought up my ex but not yours,” he teased. “Not fair if you ask me.”

“Well, then I’m glad no one asked you.”

“Can I ask you?”

“What?”

“About your ex.”

She should have been prepared to talk about it with Harry at some point. Half of this plan had been devised to get back at James anyway. She should be able to talk about it by now, especially with someone she had grown so close to.

“I guess so,” she shrugged, trying to seem casual like the mere mention of him didn’t still hurt her heart a little bit. “What do you want to know?”

“As much as you’re willing to tell me.”

He looked soft like this, eyes slightly sleepy with a tenderness in them as he looked back at her. His hair was unruly and puffy and he was wrapped in the powder blue blanket that lived on the tour bus’ couch. She would have told him anything that he ever wanted to hear if he kept looking like this.

With a deep breath, she began to recount everything that went down.

“I met James while I was still working as a waitress. I recognized him from his movies and started a conversation, and then–to my surprise–he asked me out on a date. I had been in LA for three weeks and this insanely famous actor is asking me to go out with him, so I obviously said yes.” She paused to take a swig of her beer, before mumbling under her breath, “I should have said ‘fuck no’ to that.”

A smile ghosted over her lips as she listened to Harry’s laugh across the table. She swore that laugh could cure cancer.

“But I didn’t,” she continued. “He introduced me to the right people and helped me make the right connections in the industry, which I guess made me feel indebted to him. Does that make sense?”

“Of course,” Harry nodded, eyebrows furrowed and listening intently.

“I should have broken up with him after I signed with Jeff and the label, however awful that sounds. But he just always knew the right things to say to make me feel special and like I was the most important person in the world. Even after I found out he was talking to other girls, he was somehow able to talk himself out of it.” She shook her head as she recalled it. “You wanna hear something fucked up?”

“Always,” he said with a gentle smirk.

“He proposed to me using lines from a romcom he was working on.”

Harry nearly spit out his drink. “Holy shit, you’re kidding!”

“I wish. I didn’t find out until I went with him to the premier a few months later and the proposal scene sounded surprisingly familiar.”

“What a dirtbag.”

“I know, right?” she laughed. “Then a few weeks after that, he got papped with his tongue down another girl’s throat. That finally knocked some sense into me and I ran for the hills.”

“Fuck,” he sighed as he finished his beer. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she breathed. “I don’t even feel hurt by him anymore, ya know? I just feel angry at myself for trusting him.”

“I understand but it’s not your fault he was a piece of shit,” he said as he rose from his seat and traveled to the mini fridge once again. “Another?” he asked, holding the bottle up about his head.

“Fuck it,” she shrugged. “Sure.”

She watched him skillfully pop off the tops again using just his rings, making a mental note to make him teach her how he did that, before he flopped back down in his seat.

“At the risk of sounding like a Facebook mom, ‘you grow through what you go through,’” she chuckled, taking another long sip as she finished her first. He matched her high pitched giggle across the table and she nearly drooled beer down her front from smiling so wide.

“Amen, sister,” he agreed, raising his beer in the air.

“Oh, that was awful.” She shook her head as she descended into giggles. “Please never say that again.”

“Noted.”

“Anyway,” she began again after another sip of her drink, “I was well prepared to get my heartbroken by untrustworthy men after you, Styles.”

“I’m offended–tell me more,” he spoke quickly, his signature narcissistic smirk settling onto his features.

“I need you to know that Zayn leaving was my first real heartbreak.”

“Were the rest of us chopped liver?”

“You weren’t Zayn, I can tell you that.”

“Ouch!” He let out a loud belly laugh.

“Put yourself in my shoes for a minute, H. So first, the hottest-”

“Rude-”

“-I’m speaking. So the hottest one leaves, and then the rest of you are all like ‘we’ll be back in 18 months,’” she mocked him in a high pitched impersonation with a wave, “and then 6 months later you all mysteriously have solo careers.”

“I do not see you complaining about my solo career now, ya fame leetch.” He spoke with such humor and charisma, she couldn’t have even wished to be offended by his joke.

“Absolutely not, sir,” she said sternly, giving him a dramatic salute. “Deepest apologies from the fame leetch.” The two collapsed into giggles, laughing until their sides began to ache.

“Wait, I have a question for mega superstar Mr. Harry Styles of former One Direction fame,” she announced.

“I believe that’s me,” he bowed his head and raised his hand into the hair. “Shoot.”

She barely could get the question out, laughing too hard at her own joke. “Is Taylor Swift a good kisser?”

“Oh god,” he exasperatedly threw his hands in the air, chuckling while rolling his eyes dramatically before grinning wide as he thought over his answer. “I don’t kiss and tell,” he finally smirked.

“Wait, I have another!”

“Watch it, smart ass.”

“You think I’m smart?” she teased as she feigned flattery. “Have you ever heard of a song called ‘English Love Affair?’” He narrowed his eyes at her, a knowing smirk crossing his lips as he shook his head at her. “Also, when do I get to meet Gemma?”

“I’ll consider it when you stop bringing up her sex life, perv.”

“We’ve been dating for a few months now,” she teased as she continued to prod, emboldened by the liquid courage running through her veins as she was now half way through her next beer. “I think I should be allowed to meet the family soon. They seem delightful.”

“They would love how you have decided to rip into me like this,” he said with a cheeky smile, dimples on full display.

“Rockstars have to get knocked down a peg every once in a while.” She sarcastically shrugged. “Consider it a favor.”

She couldn’t help but think about how right this felt. Their back and forth flowed so smoothly, the banter falling from their lips without effort. Their laughter joined together in a delightful melody and she imagined they could go on this way all night.

Spending any amount of time with him made her so fucking happy; and time spent teasing each other over beers caused her to nearly explode with joy. How much she was enjoying herself was too hard to put into words.

He was safe and he was kind and he made her laugh no matter how bad his jokes were.

He was her best friend.

And for the first time, she was willing to admit that she was in love with him.

“Harry,” she hummed softly as their laughter died down to a comfortable silence. “Thank you for everything. You’ve changed my life forever and I can never repay you.”

“Just remember me when you get famous.”

“Oh shut up, I’m being serious,” she playfully scolded before letting her tone drop back into honesty. “You’re a very good person and I’m eternally grateful for you letting me be your opening act and then agreeing to this whole relationship charade.”

“I didn’t ‘let’ you be anything, Y/N. I picked you myself.”

Her brows furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“I listened to your album when it came out and fell in love with it,” he shrugged, his casual tone contradicting the surprised raise of her pulse. “When I found out Jeff also managed you, I knew I had to have you on the tour.”

Y/N was honestly stunned. She had always assumed that the tour was Jeff’s doing, a careful arrangement pairing Full Stop’s new up-and-comer with their most famous and established talent. Being offered the tour had been the biggest opportunity and honor she had ever been presented with; but she had never considered Harry himself being behind it.

“Oh,” was all she could manage to get out.

It was now his turn to be confused. “What’s so surprising about that?” he asked, reading the shock on her face like she was an open book.

“I just,” she stammered, trying to find the words in her slightly hazy state. “I never would have thought you knew who I was or listened to my music.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know,” she trailed off. “You’re you, and I’m just... me, I guess.”

He didn’t respond right away, just looking at her intently and slightly amused, sea glass eyes boring into her with a pink lip held between his teeth.

He scanned her frame, from the way her hair sat messily on top of her head and the way the massive sweatshirt swallowed her body enough to where she had pulled her knees up to her chest underneath it. Her shoulders were slumped slightly, making her appear smaller as she held her legs close to her torso and her eyebrows were knitted together in worry, slightly nervous under his intense gaze.

She downed the rest of her beer in an attempt to forget his intense attention. It didn’t work.

“You really don’t know how incredible you are, do you?” he finally asked, the corner of his lips twitching into a small smile.

She felt her whole body burn with his compliment, wanting to shrink into herself and disappear completely from his view. She finally shook her head slightly in an attempt to deflect his words, breathing his name under her breath as if to scold him for being too kind.

“You are,” he insisted, ignoring her objection. “You’re so talented and your music deserves all the attention that it gets. I am honored that I get to play a part in helping expose the world to you and what you have to offer.”

“Thank you.” Her words came out as a whisper.

“You’re welcome, love.”

His pet name made her stomach turn in a nervous excitement and a wide grin involuntarily came to her lips.

“I like it when I make you smile like that.” His words only made her beam further. “You look very pretty when you smile.”

“Stop it,” she said softly, cheeks burning hot and having a hard time making eye contact with him.

“Stop what?” He feigned innocence as he lightly teased her, smirk still prominent on his features.

“Are you flirting with me, Styles?”

“Just practicing.”

His words rang through her mind long after they had left the table and crawled back into their bunks for the night. She wished she could see inside his head to understand whatever thoughts were running around his brain.

But for now she could just peak at him through the gap she had purposely left in her curtain, wondering if she ever popped into his dreams as he slept.

He was always in hers.

***

There was a sadness mixed in with her usually thrilled mood as she took the stage for the last show of the tour. While there was an element of relief as she looked forward to some well needed rest, the adrenaline and joy of being in front of a crowd was something that she would miss dearly. She had grown into a real performer over the last two months as they zig-zagged across the US and this period of time would have a special place in her heart long after it had ended.

But there was another reason why she was so sad to see this chapter come to an end. As far as she knew, a staged breakup was not far away and the thought of being without Harry was heartbreaking. He had become her person and soon their feux falling out would be on the front page of every magazine. She wanted nothing more in the world than for their relationship to be real, but it would be forced to end before it had even truely started.

She got choked up as she sang her final song that night, letting a few tears escape as she took in the thousands of people singing her lyrics back to her, flashlights swaying in the air to the beat of the music. Taking a move from Harry’s own playbook, she took her mic and directed it to the crowd to sing as she cried. The vibrations of the drums and bass behind her nestled it’s way into her bones and the chorus of singing voices in the crowd surrounded her in a bittersweet melody.

The past two months she had been on top of the world, and as soon as this song finished, it was the beginning of the end.

She took her final bow, watching as the small tears fell forward onto the dusty stage below her. She waved and blew kisses to the crowd, then nearly ran off the stage looking for the only person she wanted to see.

Harry was right where he always was, just out of view behind the curtain, holding his arms out for her to fall into.

“Awe, babe,” he hummed sympathetically when she settled her head onto his chest, surely ruining his crisp white t-shirt with her now wet makeup. “It’s okay. Final shows are always tough.” He rubbed her back gently, in a soothing rhythm.

He smelled so good. He smelled like home.

She tilted her head up to connect her glassy eyes with his. “I just don’t want this all to end.” She knew she wasn’t just talking about the tour.

“Neither do I,” he said as his lips curved into a devilish smirk that sent her heart into palpitations. “That’s why I have one last surprise for you.”

“Oh, Harry,” she sighed while wiping the remaining tears off her cheeks. “What have you done?”

“You said you liked surprises!” he defended.

“Not surprises in front of 20,000 people!”

“I promise you’re going to love this one, okay?” His voice was softer now, encouraging and supportive. “You’re going to come out and sing an extra song with me during my set,” he revealed.

“Sing what?”

“That’s the surprise.”

“Do I even know the words?”

“You definitely know the words,” he chuckled.

“I just finished sobbing. I can’t go out there like this.”

“You can fix your makeup. I believe in you.”

“What am I going to wear?” she asked, grasping at straws at this point, doing anything she could to get out of this.

“I had Lambert put something together for you.”

“Of course you did.”

She peppered him with a few more questions, but he had a smooth and charming answer to every single one. He had thought every detail out, and as always, she couldn’t say no to him.

“Fine,” she finally exasperatedly agreed, immediately met with his excited and dimpled smile that she had fallen head over heels for.

“Perfect,” he breathed. “I have to go get ready and so do you. I already put everything you need in your dressing room, okay?” She nodded, still biting her lip anxiously. He held her by her shoulders, lowering his head to match their eye level as he leaned in close, before he spoke. “You’re going to have fun. I promise.”

“Pinky swear?”

“Pinky swear.”

Seconds after they locked their little fingers together, he pressed a quick and protective kiss to her forehead that set her whole body ablaze before running off in the direction of his dressing room. She remained stunned and frozen in her spot for a few moments trying to process what it felt like to have his lips on her for the first time since that very first day they had met.

There was no audience to perform it for or an act to keep up behind the curtain. He kissed her because he wanted to.

She was finally snapped out of her daze when a stagehand bumped into her by accident, prompting her to begin the short walk back to her dressing room. But the ghost of his lips remained on her forehead, an incessant tingle placed there by his touch.

The dress she found waiting for her was one of the most beautiful gowns she had ever set her eyes on. Made of a light purple chiffon, the wrap dress’ long sleeves and floor length skirt flowed freely. A belt cinched the wispy fabric close to her waist and a deep-v exposed her neck and chest. But the most dazzling part of the dress were the red sequined hearts that dotted the fabric and reflected the light of the dressing room like a million little mirrors.

Slipping into it, the light fabric was soft against her skin, opaque enough but still slightly sheer to let light through and show off her legs and the bright red shiny pumps Lambert had left for her. She felt the most beautiful she had ever felt in this dress, boosting her confidence and quelling her nerves about whatever the hell Harry was planning.

“One minute to curtain,” was announced in an ominous voice over the arena’s backstage speakers as she finished fixing her makeup and she all but ran to make it back to the stage in time. She only had one more chance to watch him perform and she refused to miss a second of it.

Harry dazzled as the lights focused in on him, his deep blue and fully sequined suit reflecting the light and turning him into a human disco ball. He stood close to the edge of the stage as the beginning notes of the first song began being played by the band, but he made no move towards his mic stand to sing. His eyes were closed and his arms were outstretched to the audience, taking in every scream, every tear, and the thunderous shake of the building; but also giving himself to them.

Then the show began. As usual, he was electric, but tonight was like he had turned himself up to eleven. Every note he sang was full of his heart and every dance move was done with his entire body, even his bad jokes seemed funnier tonight.

She was so mesmerized she almost forgot about his ‘surprise.’ Almost.

“Since tonight is unfortunately our last show,” he pouted. “I thought I would do something special,” he spoke to the crowd as they roared, but quickly connected his eyes with her’s in the wings. By the smirk plastered on his face, she knew she was in for it.

“I recently found out that someone very close to me was a very big fan of…” he trailed off as he dramatically pretended to search for the right words, “my previous work.” He finished with a smirk and his words prompted the loudest reaction since he had been on stage.

“Now, I told her that she would be coming on stage to join me tonight, but I didn’t exactly tell her what we would be singing and I haven’t performed this song in a very long time, so cut us some slack if we mess up. This is very unrehearsed.” He kept sneaking glances back to her, as her eyes grew wider at the stunt he was currently pulling. “But I know for a fact that she knows all the words. I listen to her sing them in the shower quite often.” He wore a cheeky dimpled grin as he looked back at her once again.

The building was shaking due to the suspense he was creating, and looking down at her hands, she realized she was to. She gripped hard onto the mic a stagehand had just shoved at her, pleading with her hands to stop their tremors.

“Now, I would love it if you could all give another warm welcome to one of my favorite people on the planet, Y/N Y/L/N!” He turned his body to her for a final time, extending his hand out for her to take. Her legs felt like jello as she walked out into the bright lights towards him, interlocking her fingers with his as a way to keep her on her feet.

The audience’s screams were deafening at seeing the two of them together and she thanked god she had her earpieces in to protect her ear drums or they would have surely burst. She could only imagine the articles that would be written about this and the thousands of tweets that were probably already being sent.

“I’m gonna kick your ass,” she mouthed at him threateningly, but she couldn’t even get through the sentence before his dazzling smile began to quell her anxiety.

“The look on your face is 100% worth getting my ass kicked,” he answered smoothly before turning his attention back to the audience. “Everyone, sing along if you know the words,” he commanded their attention. “This is Ready to Run.”

Her jaw dropped and the crowd roared as the band behind her began to play the first few chords of the song she loved and knew so well. She had admitted it a few days ago that it was one of her favorites of his ‘previous work,’ but apparently he already knew that from the few showers she had taken on the tour bus.

“There’s a lightning in your eyes I can’t deny,” he began by himself, her brain still too shocked to jump in yet. He sang the first few lines to her with a giant grin plastered on his face, hand still holding tight to hers. His eyes had a playful glint in them that seemed to say ‘just have fun.’

“There’s a devil in your smile, it’s chasing me,” she finally began to sing, Harry fading his voice out so she could take the next few lines by herself as he admired her.

He did have a devilish smile, but it was one she loved with her entire heart. As she began to sing, she felt her muscles begin to relax into the song she had sung to herself so many times before, letting her body begin to bounce to the growing rhythm as her dress flowed around her.

The stage vibrated as Sarah beat her drums to introduce the chorus. “This time I’m ready to run, escape from the city and follow the sun,” the pair sang together, eyes still locked as their voices combined into the most perfect tune. “Cause I wanna be yours, don’t you wanna be mine?” they continued the lyrics. She felt herself meaning the words leaving her mouth more and more as they went on. She did want to be his, she couldn’t deny that. “I don’t wanna get lost in the dark of the night.”

Her apprehensiveness eased further as the music picked up and the hook went on, finally allowing herself to have a bit of fun. “Wherever you are is the place I belong,” they insisted towards each other, leaning in close before Harry grabbed her hand to dramatically spin her, the beautiful shining fabric of her dress splaying out around her. The next line was mumbled through giggles by both of them, but their laughter only added to the perfect moment they were having.

They danced across the stage together like there weren’t 20,ooo pairs of eyes watching them, both singing their hearts out to each other. It began to feel like they weren’t even there. It was just Y/N and Harry, serenading each other to one of her favorite songs.

“There’s a future in my eyes I can’t foresee,” she sang to him to start the second verse.

“Unless, of course, I stay on course and keep you next to me.” Harry grabbed her by her waist and pulled her into his side as he sang the words, prompting more giggles from her. She loved the way he smiled so wide as he sang, never breaking his eye contact with her and emitting pure joy. His eyes looked honest as he sang, like he meant every word just as much as she did.

The pair made their way through the rest of the verse and second chorus, flawlessly moving around the stage like they owned it. Y/N selfishly decided to let him have the bridge all to himself, needing to hear the way his beautiful voice hit the high notes. “This time I’m ready to run,” he sang passionately, executing the downward moving riff perfectly. “I’d give everything that I got for your love,” he pointed across the stage towards her, beckoning her back close to him. She quickly skipped to him at his request.

Like she had blinked, the song was already nearing its end.

“Cause I wanna be free and I wanna be young, I’ll never look back now I’m ready to run,” they belted the last lines out to each other. The band fell quiet on their last chord and the crowd exploded, but their noise fell on deaf ears as the pair stood so close their heaving chests were almost pressed up against each other. His eyes stared down into hers and she watched as his eyes flickered quickly down to her lips.

The world ceased to exist when he pressed his mouth to hers, even if it only lasted a second. It was nothing more than a peck, but it was everything to her. Her body igniting with heat and eyes full of shock, she looked back at him in simultaneous confusion and adoration, before realizing they had been staring at each other for too long. She needed to get off the stage so he could continue with his show. She walked back slowly towards the wings, letting the hand he had still been holding fall to her side. She waved and smiled to the crowd the best she could in her clouded mind.

“Thank you everyone!” she shouted into her mic as she moved out of their view. She shoved her mic into the first set of hands that would take it as she wobbled her way over to a table with water bottles. She nearly choked as she tried to suck one down, hoping it would ease the dizzy feeling he had created with his lips. Her lips burned just as her forehead had earlier in the night.

He had kissed her. He had sang a love song with her and then he had kissed her. She couldn’t decipher if that kiss was a confirmation that he shared the same feelings for her or if it was just another act for the cameras. But his mouth felt so right against hers. They fit together like a pair of puzzle pieces. She tried to suppress the optimistic hope that rose in her chest, but it began to swallow her whole.

When she heard his next song begin, she made her way back to the spot that had become hers at the side of the stage. She watched him perform the rest of the show in a loving haze, doe eyed and hypnotized, lips still buzzing from his contact.

He gave it his all. By the last song he was out of breath, drenched in sweat, and looked like he was about to pass out at any second. The crowd applauded for minutes after he left the stage and they were still cheering when she finally caught sight of him again. His curls were stuck to his forehead and his skin was shiny and flushed. He was panting, still trying to recover from his workout of a finale show; but he was beaming. His smile seemed to turn him into a beacon, emitting a light and positive energy that drew everyone backstage towards him.

She was so transfixed on Harry as he thanked the crew and accepted congratulations from all around that she just about jumped out of her skin when Jeff slinked up behind her and whispered ‘boo’ in her ear.

“What the fuck, Jeff,” she chuckled as she caught her breath, resting her hand on her chest and feeling her racing heartbeat.

“I just wanted to congratulate you on being half of the best fake couple out there,” he teased. “That kiss was perfect. People are losing their minds over it.”

“Oh,” she said softly, feeling every emotion she was distracted from while watching Harry rush back into her. Her heart sank as she remembered all the questions that continued to haunt her since she got off stage. “Thanks,” she murmured, plastering a smile onto her face. “I’m glad we could make you proud.”

“If you two could convince me, you can convince anyone.” Jeff walked off moments later, leaving her to sit in her confused thoughts as he disappeared into the hoards of bodies waiting for their minute with Harry.

She knew that she didn’t ‘convince’ Jeff of anything on her part. Everything she did with Harry was authentic and truthful. Including the thrilled grin that appeared on her face when she finally made eye contact with the exhausted man across the room. She gave him a shy wave that he sheepishly returned, biting back a shy smile. He pointed in the direction of his dressing room and mouthed “meet me in 15.”

She could never say no to him.

Fifteen minutes later, she was knocking on the large wooden door that had a single piece of paper that read STYLES haphazardly taped onto it. When it finally flew open, she was met by a soaking wet Harry with a towel hanging dangerously low on his hips. Her eyes trailed down his body without permission, taking in the toned torso that was decorated with his beautiful tattoos. Her eyes hovered over the two ferns that sat on his pelvis, too fascinated with the dark ink to pull her eyes away just yet.

She had obviously seen him in various states of undress before. They lived together on a tour bus without much space to exist with privacy, but this was different. He wasn’t rushing to get dressed or quickly changing his outfit. And he wasn’t moving away from her gaze at all.

If she hadn’t been so entranced by him, she would have noticed he was looking her up and down in the exact same manner.

She had changed since she had seen him last. The skin-tight black velvet romper she had brought along for the afterparty now fit her snuggly and held her every curve. The dark fabric was tight and appeared almost painted on, a rainbow racing stripe making its way down either side of her chest. The short shorts of the outfit exposed nearly all of her legs and the deep neckline put much of her chest on display as well. It’s long sleeves were her favorite part, as a strip of fringe dangled from below her arms any time she moved.

“You look great,” Harry finally choked out, his voice pulling their eyes back up to the other’s face.

“Oh, thanks,” she said, slightly awkwardly. “You too.”

“Well, I’m hopefully not going to the after party dressed like this,” he chuckled before stepping aside and ushering her into the room.

His dressing room was much larger than hers and she settled herself on the brown leather couch in the corner as she waited for him to get ready, sneaking glances up from her phone often. She chuckled as she watched him spend far too long fussing with his curls in the mirror, but was quickly distracted by the way his back and arms flexed when he reached up to muse his hair. Once he was satisfied with the way it fell, he disappeared into the bathroom at the back of the room. When he emerged, he was finally dressed, allowing her to take a deep breath and to focus on something other than his bare skin for the first time since he had opened the door.

The black satin suit was simple for him, but the tight white tank top that sat underneath hugged every muscle in his torso. She knew as soon as he got in the hot club, he would lose the jacket, and she would be devastatingly distracted once again.

The narcissist took one final look at himself in the mirror before turning to her and extending a hand. “Ready, darling?”

“You just spent 15 minutes exclusively on your hair and you’re asking me if I’m ready?” she teased as she took his hand, weaving her fingers between his as they exited the room together.

He leaned down close to her ear as they walked down the now mostly empty hallway, lips brushing over the hollow of her ear as he spoke. “I could have done it faster, but you were so obviously enjoying the show.”

“Relax yourself, Magic Mike,” she muttered indignantly, but hung her head in a way she hoped he couldn’t see how flustered he made her. Was she really that obvious?

They walked hand in hand out to the parking garage, now caught in a back and forth about whether or not Harry could be a male stripper. He said yes. She said no, although she did admit at one point that he worked his mic stand like a pole.

“Hey Jeff,” he called when they finally reached the parking garage where Jeff and Glenne had been waiting for them to head to the club. “Do you think I could be a stripper?”

“I think people would pay a lot to see it, but they may be disappointed in your dancing skills.”

“Come on,” he playfully whined. “I have some moves.”

“You have one move,” Y/N cut in with a chuckle, “and it’s the wiggle.” She brought her hands up near her chest, tilted her head back while dramatically biting her lip, and swayed her arms by her sides, earning a chorus of laughter from the people around her.

She hadn’t even realized she had done the move without releasing Harry’s hand first, dragging his arm into her dance as well, until their manager commented on it. “You know, you two don’t have to be holding hands all the time and keeping the show up back here,” he said with a slightly suspicious quirk in his eyebrows.

Her smile had been in the process of fading, like they had been caught doing something wrong, before Harry answered smoothly. “We know. Just practicing.”

There were those words again. Just practicing, she thought over to herself. But was he practicing anymore? How many flirty comments, heartfelt compliments, and warm touches did it take to cross the line of practicing to the real thing?

She wasn’t sure about Harry, but she knew that she wasn’t just practicing anymore.

She knew that the way they sat nearly on top of each other in the large SUV on the way to the club felt more than friendly. And the way he hadn’t stopped touching her in some way since they left his dressing room insinuated far more than something with business-like intentions. And the way he looked at her everytime he caught her eye the entire way to the club, always with a bright smile and adoring gaze that she always returned, pulled at her heartstrings far more than they should have if this was all an act.

A sloppy and cheeky grin settled almost permanently on his features after he had a few drinks in him, his arms moving in a lazy and fluid manner as she took in his many tattoos that he had exposed when he ditched his jacket (just like she knew he would). His butterfly was visible through the tight ribbed fabric of the white tank top and the little birds that peaked out from underneath seemed to be inviting her even closer to him in her now inebriated state.

All she wanted to do was to connect her lips with his as she watched him make conversation with someone from his management, entranced by the way his perfect mouth moved as he spoke. She once again craved the shocks of electricity that were created between them at the contact and could not stop thinking about it no matter how hard she tried. The protective hand that had settled onto her hip and continued to hold her close to his body just wasn’t enough anymore.

The pair had been drinking far too much; martinis turning into vodka sodas that had turned into straight tequila shots. She believed it was tequila shot four that did her in. The last thing she remembered was licking the line of salt off the back of her hand, downing the shot, and being entranced by Harry’s eyes as she bit down on the slice of lime he held carefully with his jeweled fingers.

***

The next morning, Y/N woke up in a hotel room that she didn’t recognize with a pounding headache and a swirling gut. It felt like she had been hit with a truck and she could barely pick her head up off the pillow.

She had so many questions about what had happened the night before. Where was she? Who let her drink that much? Whose clothes was she wearing? But most of all, what the hell happened after that fourth shot?

But she realized the worst was yet to come when she heard soft snoring coming from beside her. She knew that snoring well. It was the snoring that kept her up half the night for the last two months and the one that had almost driven her to suffocating her bus-mate in his sleep; the snoring that matched the crumbled black suit she just noticed in a ball on the floor.

It took every ounce of strength in her body to pull herself from the pillow and turn around in the bed to have her suspicions confirmed.

There he was.

His dark long eyelashes were fluttered down across the tops of his cheeks and his hair was going in every direction, skin clammy like his body was trying to rid itself of all the poison he had ingested the night before. The crumpled comforter was pushed down his stomach, his bare skin holding a sheen that helped define every dip or curve of his muscles and the tiniest bit of the band of his boxers peaked out to assure her that he at least wasn’t fully naked next to her.

Why were they in bed together? And why did he look so good? Oh my god, she thought as a possibility dawned on her. Did we sleep together?

“Harry,” she murmured softer than she intended, voice scratchy and mouth dry. The soreness at the back of her throat clued her into the copious amounts of screaming she must have done last night. He didn’t stir at her gentle coaxing, the light streaming through the windows making him look angelic as it covered him in a blanket of soft light while he continued to sleep.

It was a hard nudge to his chest that finally made him open his eyes, immediately releasing a groan she was sure she made when she regained consciousness too. He looked at her puzzled, still rubbing sleep out of his eyes as he propped himself up on his elbows. He took an equally confused look around the hotel room before looking back at her. She watched as the gears slowly turned in his head until his eyes opened wide and he spring up into a sitting position to mirror hers.

“We didn’t,” he whispered hopefully. “Oh my god, did we?” he asked, a look of horror crossing his face that matched her own.

“I have no idea,” she anxiously replied. “I was hoping you would know!”

“You don’t remember anything?”

“The last thing I remember was doing tequila shots with you.”

“I remember those.” He rubbed his eyes hard like it would somehow jog his memory. His eyebrows knit together, buried in thought as he searched his brain for a timeline. “I can follow the night up until we did karaoke.”

“We did karaoke?” she repeated incredulously and was met with a somber nod. “Do I even want to know what we sang?”

He shook his head slowly, shame clear on his face, before he finally mumbled. “We did ‘It’s Raining Men.’”

“Oh my god, no,” she whined, holding her head in her hands and rubbing her temples. There were surely videos of them sloppily singing on top of a bar circulating online and she wasn’t sure how Jeff would be able to spin that one in a positive light.

“Where’s your phone?” he asked, a hopeful glint in his eye as he reached for his own. “Maybe there’s something on there that can clue us in.” It took her a moment but she finally spotted it on the ground in the corner of the room. She said a silent prayer that it wasn’t dead or broken.

Forcing her heavy limbs out from under the covers she made her way towards the device, but not before she heard a confused sound coming from Harry. “How did you get my clothes?”

Looking down at herself and taking in the red lettering that read But Daddy I Love Him across her chest, it clicked that the t-shirt and baggy basketball shorts were his. But how they hell did she get into them?

“I think we’ve established at this point that I don’t know anything that happened after about midnight, Harry.” Her words came out laced with slight frustration. She hoped he knew she wasn’t annoyed with him, just their situation.

“Just a question, princess.”

She ignored his quip and began to search through her texts, call history, and photos, hoping to find anything at all that could help trace their steps through the night. She found nothing but a few selfies of them still at the club. One was the pair casually smiling, the next was one of him kissing her on the cheek that made her skin warm, but the final one made her snort out a laugh.

“What’s so funny?”

“I have a picture on my phone of you with two martini olives shoved up your nose,” she spoke through hysterical laughter. “Definitely birthday post material if you ask me.”

“Let me see,” he demanded with an adorable scowl.

She passed her phone over to him, still letting a few chuckles fall past her lips. “I’m gonna change your name in my phone to ‘Olive Nose Styles.”

“You're cruel.”

“You’re the one that put olives up his nose and then posed for a picture!”

“Whatever,” he grumbled, turning attention back to his own screen to continue his investigation. “There’s nothing of use on my phone either.”

The two flopped back on the bed, staring at the ceiling in the frustrated confusion. There was so much of their night that had gone up into smoke, completely unaccounted for with no clues as to what they did. Each traced their steps over and over again in their heads as they hoped desperately for a single detail that would lead them down a path to bigger memories, but it never came.

“Are we going to have to call Jeff and ask him what happened?” she finally murmured.

“I think so.”

“He’s going to put us both in client timeout, isn’t he?”

“We’re probably already there,” he groaned as he picked up his phone and hit Jefe Jeff-e in his contact list, putting the call on speaker and resting it on his still bare chest. The man on the other end picked up almost immediately.

“Morning Sleeping Beauty, I was wondering when I was going to hear from you.”

“Hi Jeff,” he groggily started then stopped, searching for the words that would make this all less uncomfortable. “Y/N and I have some questions about last night.”

Jeff let out a strained chuckle. “Yeah, that doesn’t really surprise me after last night’s bar bill.”

“Um,” Harry hummed, stammering but unable to form any real words.

“You sing about sex for a living,” she hissed at the man next to her before yanking the phone off his chest. “Jeff,�� she started, taking over the conversation for them both. “Do you know if we slept together?”

“Probably not. You both were pretty unconscious when I put you in the hotel room.” His words prompted a massive sigh from both of them, looking to each other to share a relieved smile.

“Oh thank god,” they mumbled in unison.

“Jinx,” he smirked under his breath, prompting a ‘shut up’ from her.

“How did I get into Harry’s clothes?”

“I stopped by the tour bus when I realized you two probably shouldn’t be trusted not to roll out of your top bunks. I got you some clothes to sleep in before we took you guys to the hotel.”

“But why Harry’s?”

It was Jeff’s term to get squirmy. “I felt weird going through your things.”

“But you were perfectly fine with going through mine?” Harry asked, only half joking.

“Absolutely,” he deadpanned. They were all quiet for a moment before Jeff began again. “You two really don’t remember anything else that happened?”

“Everything after about two is unaccounted for,” she confessed.

“Oh,” Jeff chuckled. “So, you don’t remember when you stuck your tongues down each other’s throats on the ride home?”

Fuck.

Her eyes raced up to Harry’s from the phone she had been staring at like it held all the secrets of the night before. His easily readable features displayed all his emotions that surely matched hers. His pupils had grown in surprise, taking over nearly all the green in his wide eyes, and an embarrassed blush tinted his cheeks in a red hot flush that had reached the tips of his ears. His eyes flashed to the blank wall in front of them, running a stressed hand through his curls, like if he wasn’t looking at her, he would be able to focus better on the newly revealed information.

She couldn’t say that she didn’t relate. Her mind often went blank when she looked at him too. But right now, it was racing, occupied by anxious thoughts and intense emotions she couldn’t quite place, but felt with her entire being.

Her inevitable downward spiral was interrupted when Harry stiffly cleared his throat. “Uh,” he started, scratching the back of his neck uncomfortably. “We’ll see you later.”

“Sounds good, love birds,” Jeff replied, a clear snark apparent in his voice. Neither of the pair dignified his teasing with a response, Y/N quickly ending the call.

Silence hung heavy in the air and she let her eyes hover over the phone for too long when she settled it down on the bed, unwilling to connect her eyes with his just yet. Harry always had a way of staring into her and revealing all her cards to him before she even knew them herself. She wanted to hold them close to her chest for a moment, protecting the heart that longed for him more than anything else in the world.

There were no words exchanged between the two for a while as they silently took turns in the bathroom and occupied their hands and thoughts by their phones. They walked on eggshells anytime one neared the other. A tension like this hadn’t existed since the very first day they met, the first day they had begun to pretend.

Maybe that's why Harry was being so quiet. Maybe he never wanted to cross that line of pretending like she did. Maybe she had been blinded by his generally friendly personality and tricked herself into thinking there was anything more than a charade between them. Maybe last night really was just a drunken mistake, no matter how much she wanted it to be more.

“Maybe it’s a good thing that we don’t remember what happened last night,” she finally murmured from the opposite end of the room. She rested the side of her still heavy head and muscles against the wall, arms crossed in front of her as if they could keep her safe from the tension they had created. Her fingers nervously played with the hem of his t-shirt she was still dressed in.

“Why is it a good thing?” he almost immediately responded from the chair on the other side of the room he had settled himself into, running his hands along the satin pants of last night’s outfit he had put back on during their awkward shuffling around the room. He had even put physical space between them since they found out what happened, causing her heart to feel as if it was teetering on the edge of disintegrating.

“Well,” she stuttered, refusing to look at him and continuing to pick at her nail polish. “We’re just pretending so it would be weird if we really remembered it.”

“I don’t think it would be weird.”

“I don’t know,” she tried to maneuver her way around his response. “It might just be embarrassing to think about it.”

He let out a long and frustrated sigh, running his hands down his face. There was so much going on behind his eyes and she wished he would say something, anything, to break down the wall that hadn’t existed between them in months that was slowly reappearing.

“Do you regret it?” he asked bluntly, the abrupt question shocking her body to attention. “Do you regret any of this? Any of us?”

Did she regret drinking too much? Yes. Did she regret making out with him in front of their manager? Yes. Did she regret denying her feelings and pretending they didn’t exist for so long? Of course. But, did she regret falling in love with him? Never, not even for a second.

“No, I don’t,” she let out with a gentle shake of her head, no louder than a whisper.

“Neither do I.”

The words had barely left his lips before he crossed the room and crashed them into hers. The same fire she had felt on stage returned ten times over as his lips moved smoothly over hers, every neuron in her body lighting up like a switchboard. Her fingers reached up to curl into his hair and pull his lips impossibly closer to hers as her heart hammered in her chest with a passionate love she had kept under wraps for so long.

He tasted like the spicy peppermint toothpaste the hotel stocked in the bathroom and smelled like the tiny bottles of shampoo that rested on the side of the bathtub; but there was so much else about him that was completely unique–wholly irreplaceable and indescribable. He was just Harry.

Teeth clashed, lips were bitten, and hair was pulled as they took in every sensation the other created. His lips had been the only thought that captivated her mind since they were on stage the night before and her return to them did not disappoint. If her head wasn’t dizzy and her lungs not screaming at her for air, she would have stayed in that moment forever

When they finally disconnected, they stood against each other in a heaving and disheveled mess of heavy breathing and adoringly dazed smiles. She swore she could feel the pounding of his heart under her fingertips that rested on his chest.

“That was nice,” he eventually murmured down at her through heavy breaths, a love drunk grin finding its way onto his swollen lips.

“Yeah, I agree,” she hummed breathlessly, her anxious thoughts quiet and calm for the first time she could remember since she met him.

“I’m kind of disappointed I don’t remember doing that the first time,” he chuckled softly at her, shaking his head lightly in embarrassment with his pink tinged cheeks on full display.

“That’s okay. We were ‘just practicing’ then, right?” A giggle left her lips as she used the words against him. The same words he had used every time they let a glimpse of their true affections for each other slip past their guarded and friendly facade.

His dimples were exposed when he smiled a giant grin and let out a knowing huff, piecing together that she had caught onto his trail of excuses. “Yeah, just practicing,” he repeated softly, before his tone turned sincere and genuine. “I don’t want us to pretend anymore.”

“Good,” she said softly as her fingers slid up his neck to beckon his lips back down to hers. “I never was.”

“Neither was I.” She watched a soft smirk appear on his lips as they hovered over hers. “Do you want to keep not practicing?”

“Depends,” she quipped, lips brushing over his as she spoke. “Am I better kisser than Taylor Swift?

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING!! REBLOGS AND FEEDBACK MEAN THE WORLD!!!

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