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anonymouscatloaf · 2 years

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title: I could paint you picture perfect, even if I were blinded

aka guess who dug up a 1.3k word unfinished guangying soulmate AU fic in my old docs from two years ago, read through the entire thing, and realized they officially do not remember enough about this show to even recall who the side characters are anymore lmao

unfortunate, bc I kinda like where it had been going. it was a “you see the world in black and white until you and your soulmate make skin-to-skin contact” AU where guangying don’t realize they’re soulmates until chu ying's hand brushes shi guang's just barely when he passes the fan to him in his dream, and the first color shi guang sees is the red paint on the fan, and he's frozen in the moment because he doesn't fully understand what he's seeing, and by the time he thinks to lift his head again he only sees chu ying's retreating figure and the red accents of his clothing as he fades away.

...I cannot remember for the life of me if I had a fix-it planned for this fic, or if I ended it with shi guang waking up realizing that even though he’d found his soulmate, he’d still never be able to see him again.

anyway. title's from the song picture perfect by escape the fate, and here’s all 1.3k words of the unfinished fic below the cut so I have it archived somewhere lol

Shi Guang stares at the pattern of black and white stones against the equally monochromatic Go board as if they’ll cower under his unblinking gaze and rearrange themselves into a game that favors him, as opposed to one that portends his inevitable dismal defeat.

“I lost,” he concedes, placing two stones on the board.

“You’re improving,” the translucent spirit sitting across from him says with a beatific smile.

“Hmph.” Shi Guang sighs and sprawls dramatically across the Go board, sweeping all the stones carefully to the side as he does so to avoid knocking them off the table. “Doesn’t mean anything if I don’t pass the grading tournament when that happens,” he mutters, peering up at Chu Ying and studying the miniscule shifts in his expression. “And it’s not like I’ll be up against anyone as good as you! But I can’t practice with Shen Yilang or Hong He right now, anyway—and the nerves of those two, running off to spend all this time with their soulmates when we have the tournament coming up. What’s so good about colors, anyway? Go is in black and white, what else do you need?”

Shi Guang’s well aware that his mulish complaints seem to have run his train of thought off track and possibly off a cliff as well, but in any case, he’s never been the one to think before he speaks, and when he starts speaking, the concept of shutting up is about as foreign to him as the concept of color.

Fine, so he’s a little bit peeved about not being able to see what’s so damn pretty about a ‘blue’ sky, when all his roommates—Yue Zhi doesn’t count; that rich kid hasn’t ever slept here—can.

The traitorous corner of his head starts blaring “You Are My Eyes” again, and Shi Guang mentally kicks that melody into the basement before slamming the door shut on it.

Chu Ying laughs quietly, drawing Shi Guang’s attention away from the rapidly scattering state of his thoughts. “I said something similar once.”

Shi Guang blinks uncomprehendingly and tries to remember what he’d been talking about. “Said what?”

“When asked about searching for my soulmate—that the colors of Go are the only ones I need.” Chu Ying’s gaze goes distant, with that same hint of bittersweet reminiscence in his eyes that accompanies any discussion of his before.

“...Do you still think that?” Shi Guang ventures cautiously. He didn’t even really mean it himself; he’s made far more outlandish claims in a fit of temper.

Chu Ying is different. Shi Guang can imagine him saying that, and meaning it.

This is the same idiot who couldn’t care less about a literal princess being in love with him, after all, Shi Guang grouches to himself.

But Chu Ying doesn’t respond immediately. The silence stretches on long enough that Shi Guang is starting to worry he’s said something to upset Chu Ying into retreating back to his own little corner of Shi Guang’s heart, and Shi Guang might end up spending the next hour having to coax him back out like one might comfort an overgrown child.

(Which Chu Ying is, a lot of the time, but that’s beside the point.)

“Go stones may be in black and white, but in the eyes of Go players, they’re an endless kaleidoscope of color,” Chu Ying finally says, his voice soft but no less firm. “My world is never truly in monochrome, Xiao Guang, and yours isn’t either.”

If Chu Ying has a soulmate, it’s most certainly Go, Shi Guang thinks, studying his face in the ensuing brief silence, I certainly wouldn’t wait a thousand years just for a chance to see something or someone again.

“And weren’t you the one who told me about the importance of friends?” Chu Ying adds lightly, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

(Shi Guang distantly wonders if Chu Ying wears lipstick in addition to eyeshadow—sometimes he thinks Chu Ying’s lips look a couple shades darker than most other people, but when it’s all shades of grey, Shi Guang can never be sure.)

Chu Ying continues teasing, wholly oblivious to the rapidly spiraling state of Shi Guang’s overactive imagination. “…Or are you just jealous you’re the only one left alone among all three of you?”

Shi Guang snaps back to attention. “Who said I’m alone?” he protests, “I have you, don’t I? And our Go?”

Chu Ying’s smile brightens. “You’ll always have us.”

Shi Guang can’t sleep.

After staring at the hotel ceiling so long that he starts finding patterns in the cracks and dust, he finally tears his gaze away to glance at Chu Ying’s silhouette standing by the window—he always leaves the curtains drawn up because Chu Ying seems to like watching the world pass by outside; thankfully, neither Shen Yilang nor Hong He have ever complained about the light.

Chu Ying doesn’t seem to notice Shi Guang’s gaze, so Shi Guang continues to watch him in silence. Chu Ying’s posture is as ramrod straight as that stupid hat he wears, standing eerily still by the window—like he’s one of those ridiculous fur-hatted soldiers guarding that one palace in the United Kingdom that Shi Guang only vaguely recalls because he'd doodled Chu Ying over a picture of one of them in his primary school world history textbook.

Even in shades of grey, Chu Ying is probably one of the prettiest people Shi Guang knows. Shi Guang doesn’t have Chu Ying’s penchant for poetry or way with words; he’s a simple and straightforward person. If someone is good-looking, then they’re good-looking. No obscure—if he’s never used them in daily conversation, then they’re obscure, damn it Chu Ying—idioms about flowers and mountains and lakes will convey that better.

(And it’s an inane observation to make right now, probably, but Shi Guang's thought process around Chu Ying has never really made much sense.)

Moonlight filters through the dusty windows and casts shifting patterns across Shi Guang’s bed sheets, passing through the semi-transparent Chu Ying as if he doesn’t exist.

That thought leaves an unpleasant twinge in Shi Guang’s chest. He opens his mouth without really thinking and tosses out the first conversation starter that pops into his head, keeping his voice quiet to not awaken his roommates:

“How do you even know if your eyeshadow actually suits you, if you don’t know what color it is?”

Chu Ying turns around, blinking in confusion. “Ah? When did I say that I don’t know what color it is?” With his back to the light coming from the window, any normal person would’ve had their front shrouded in shadow. But the moonlight passes straight through Chu Ying, and he stands before Shi Guang still as bright as the moon itself.

“…I thought you never met your soulmate? And even if you did—” Shi Guang’s brain-to-mouth filter catches up just in time before he finishes that sentence.

Even if you did, she’d be long dead by now, wouldn’t she?

Chu Ying purses his lips, but he doesn’t look offended; rather, he’s fighting a smile. “Xiao Guang, just because I can’t see what color it is, doesn’t mean the servants dressing me couldn’t.”

Oh, right.

Chu Ying used to be filthy fucking rich (to put it politely), or whatever the equivalent term for that was a millennium and a half ago.

In any case, Chu Ying was someone who probably even had others bathe him, and now he was…

Well, now he was Shi Guang’s and Shi Guang’s alone, so he’d have to live with him in this ratty old hotel room with two other teenage boys—though Chu Ying seems perfectly content doing so anyway, as long as Shi Guang keeps playing Go, of course.

“…So what color is it?”

Chu Ying sighs in fond exasperation. “Even if I tell you, neither of us will really know what it looks like. It’s red,” he adds, before Shi Guang can start to protest. “And my clothes are white and red, if you were curious about that, too.”

“Red, huh? …Good color. Probably,” Shi Guang mumbles.

Chu Ying smiles helplessly. “Probably,” he parrots. “Shouldn’t you be sleeping?”

#qi hun #hikaru no go #chu ying #shi guang #guangying #棋魂 #光嬴 #cat talks #my fic #genuinely a tragedy i will not finish this bc i eat soulmate AUs for breakfast. i adore them #anyway i'd have to rewatch all 36 eps to remember where I was going with this and I do not have that time rn rip

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serialreporter · 2 years

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apparently i never talked about survivor ! danny on here. so here's a little bit of info on that:

i think the funniest idea to go with on this is literally nothing changes - character wise for him. he's still a narcissistic serial killer back home, he's just a survivor in the realms instead. probably wouldn't of gotten taken by the fog right after roseville though. i'd say a few months before he came to florida.

definitely not the most altruistic. he'll prioritize his own well-being above all else. HOWEVER, he understands that in order to increase the chances of getting out alive, they need to work together. which is... easier said than done. his entire life, danny has pretty much worked alone.

so what that means is this. he will pay close attention to who he gets put into a trial with. he will analyze how they perform in these situations and deduct who the weakest links are. he's more likely to throw those people under the bus especially if they're not contributing anything to getting out and spend the entire time hiding and running away. but also,, it's the sadistic, horror loving part of his brain too who can't pass up the chance to witness terrified people being hunted down and killed. he justifies it by saying they weren't being any help, but he's also just 👀

he's a stealthy bitch. LITERALLY a bitch to find if you're the killer, because he's just that good at hiding and sneaking away. and he's smart, too. he's very good at predicting where the killer is gonna go or do, and similarly with survivors. seems to always be at the right place at the right time, because of it. he's notable for pallet stun or flashlight saves bc of it.

he kinda. has a masochistic mentality regarding it. because the fucked up horor loving gremlin in his brain is pretty hype about being in the trials, even if it's utter hell. he over all just seems wayyy too comfortable with the way things are, and honestly it wouldn't be shocking if other survivors were like 'dude wtf' @ him.

OH YEAH, and his perks! which are basically just a reverse of the ghostface perks.

takes one to know one

you're intimately familiar with the ins and outs of what it takes to be a real killer. because of this, you have a special bit of insight when it comes to predicting where and how the killer will strike next. every time the killer goes into it's special power, their aura becomes highlighted to you for 8 seconds.

"This isn't my first rodeo, it's not even my tenth." — Danny Johnson.

hop skip town

the years you spent on the move and covering your tracks has taught you a thing or two about making a grand escape from the scene at large. when injured, press the action button to activate this perk, hiding your scratch marks and pools of blood for 15 seconds.

"It's almost as funny as watching the cops scramble to find me." — Danny Johnson.

teacher's pet

the entity is entertained by your antics and the stakes your presence brings to the trial. if a survivor is picked up while you are within 8 meters of the killer, you are granted the ability to call upon the entity to block the nearest hook for 25 seconds.

"I think she's a fan." — Danny Johnson.

#🔪 ( headcanons. )#🔪 ( survivor au. )#shout out to oreo for giving me the idea on this #his perks are basically just reversal versions of gf's perks except for hop skip town #because. listen i never use furtive chase. and i don't think i ever encounter killers who do djfkdsfs

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russilton · 2 years

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the max getting shitfaced and seeing george in lewis' flat au got me all 👀👀👀 what was the general idea behind it??? and assuming max gets absolutely dunked on, what did george say to shoo him away? - @ruszhou

Alrighty so the general idea actually starts one step backward, with an exhibitionism fic.

Sue me, when I say George would let Lewis fuck him in front of people, I mean it. And what’s a better way to address your friends newly growing gay realisation than to have him watch you get lovingly railed by your hung boyfriend.

This is also partially @thatsmemate’s idea because I, like all simp boyfriends, will expand on ideas she finds exciting for her attention. Anyway the exhibitionism fic never got finished, or started really, I have a sorta detailed middle smut sector, then I hit a bump where I couldn’t figure out how to continue, and ended up getting side tracked writing a prequel/set up about max getting plastered and showing up at lewis’ door to say sorry.

That… idk maybe some day? I’ll finish? It sorta follows max in the 21 season slowly realising that redbull sucks. And that he also sucks, and that he can’t keep deflecting blame onto Lewis and Merc and others, if he is the root of all his issues. Sort of taking in all the friends he “had” at redbull that got thrown under the car for him to get ahead. Pierre, Alex, daniil, perez. He can kind of rationalise it as the team tell him they just weren’t good enough, they’re just bitter. But he keeps feeling sicker with each race result. The stuff he says doesn’t feel right anymore. He can’t stand the voices around him that try to pad his ego. Then AD happens and he’s feeling weird and wrong when he runs into George who he’s hoping will punch him. Physical pain he can fight and all. But Lewis calls him not worth it and that’s what fucks him up bc it’s so much worse to get told he isn’t worth it. Plus George’s hatred he can’t justify as well (though if max knew he and Lewis were fucking he probably would have been able to).

Then in the weeks following AD he drinks a lot and isolates himself before getting really fucked up and going to see Lewis himself bc that’s the benefit of Monaco, where he is greeted with George, and then promptly passes out on their couch.

The next morning comes with talks and accepting blame and an agreement to do better

———

And there’s not much more to it than that! It started out as a sort of cathartic way to approach making a bigot deal with their actions.

I am white, I’ve never been in Lewis’ specific position and I don’t pretend to, but as a trans person there are some similar things I’ve experienced and god do I want some of those fuckers to realise their lives suck and that making mine worse won’t help them.

At the time I could sort of write it bc I could still split fic max from IRL max. But then the season continued AND all the piquet shit happened… it just ended up feeling wrong to write. And that’s happened with more drivers tbh, max is for sure the WORST, but, perez , alonso and sainz I also avoid mentioning. Norris and albon are on that edge. I just ended up wanting to focus on other drivers who don’t make me feel conflicted.

Exhibitionism isn’t off the table tho, that’s what I have a George/Lewis + Valtteri fic for hahaha.

Fuck it here’s another bit of that fic bc I think George is funny even if I might not return to it

———

Alone. Even when he’s dragged back inside he feels alone. The back slaps from partying engineers start to hurt. He can’t hide anymore, Lewis ripped him open with just 3 words. Not worth it. They echo in his mind, never leaving, he can’t bare to look at his trophy. Not worth it. He spends time online, tucked away in his apartment in clothes long since needed washing, reading what Lewis’ fans say about him. ‘Not worth it. He watches his own fans try to attack Lewis for being vocal, then for staying silent. He sees all the dehumanising things they said at his defence. Not worth it. He watches his own interviews, feels sick listening to himself talk. He is sick when his dad visits and berates him for not properly enjoying a win he deserved. It’s no wonder that between resting his head on a freezing toilet rim berating himself, a very expensive bottle of Whisky and a few unanswered calls, he finds himself on Lewis’ doorstep. They didn’t live far apart after all, most drivers in Monaco didn’t. He doesn’t even remember how he got there, but he knows he must look like shit when Lewis opens the door to his flat and his eyes widen

“Max, what are you-, holy shit man are you okay?” Even after everything Lewis is concerned, and that’s all it takes for the walls to finally crumble. If he wasn’t so drunk he’d have been embarrassed by how quickly the tears poured, heaving sobs as the shame crashes over him. Lewis is so much more than he’ll ever be and Max has built an empire on rotting foundations. He doesn’t know what to do, how he’s supposed to fix all this, and now here he is on his rivals doorstep sobbing like a bitch.

Lewis has every right to slam the door in his face. Max would. But Lewis isn’t Max, instead he steps forward immediately, hands hovering as he tries to figure out what the hell is happening, making max weep harder, finally choking out strangled sorries between sobs. As soon as Lewis hears that, he’s tugging max into his flat, shutting the door and wrapping a strong arm around his back and guiding him over to soft and cosy couches, making him sit. Max is lost in his own tears for a while, only sort of registering Lewis setting a glass of water in front of him, and slipping Max’s phone out of his hand to rest on the table. Max is far too drunk at this point, the exhaustion of lacking sleep and food combining with the alcohol into a mix that makes him black out. It’s getting fuzzy, but max is pretty sure that there are more than one set of hands guiding him to lie down, pulling off his shoes and tugging a big blanket over him. There are fingers in his hair, trying to calm him down, and they work too well, max slips into a restless sleep as soon as his breathing stops coming in hitching shudders.

When he wakes, it’s bright out, and his head is pounding worse than after he hit the barriers at jeddah. His mouth is dry, and his limbs ache. His face is sticky and neck stiff from the awkward angle and polo collar he’s apparently slept in. When he can blink one eye open past the blinding light that makes his head scream, he realises he has no fucking idea where he is. He shuts his eyes again and wills the couch below him to swallow him whole, so he doesn’t have to get up and face whatever mess he’d created. He may not remember anything, but he knows a crying hangover when he feels it.

“Ah, the visitor awakens”

A sudden voice speaks next to him, and Max practically bolts up, completely unaware anyone was with him. This turns out to be a mistake as his gut rolls violently, and he hides his face in his knees to try and avoid vomiting.

“Oh Jesus, careful idiot, you’ll throw up,” the unknown voice says, getting closer and then there’s a hand on his back, rubbing between his shoulders

“Lew, hon grab a trash can, I think the couch is in danger” Lewis. He’d shown up to Lewis’ flat last night, that he now remembers. But the voice next to him isn’t Lewis, that’s clear, some part of max knows he’s heard it before. It only takes a couple seconds and then there’s shuffling next to him, and the couch dips on his other side. The movement sends a new ripple of nausea through him, and when he squints an eye open, he’s glad there’s now a small office trash can between his legs.

“Hey Max, good to see you awake” Lewis voice is calm and welcoming, which is a shock considering anyone who was awoken by a sobbing drunk in the early hours of the morning had a fair reason to be annoyed. It takes max a second to reply, waiting till he’s mostly sure he isn’t going to hurl as soon as he opens his mouth.

“I… I feel like I have been hit by a truck”

“You certainly look like it” that’s the unknown voice again, and Max finally manages to open his eyes enough past the dull throbbing at his temples to see who it is. To his complete surprise, none other than George Russell perched on his other side. George looks rumpled, usually well sculpted hair flopping softly over his forehead. His face looks softer, at least softer than max had seen it in a long time, and he’s wearing a big yellow sweater with a 100 across the chest that max is near certain is Lewis’. George must notice the dawning confusion in Max’s eyes, because he sighs and hauls himself up, before turning back to max and Lewis

“I’m making coffee, this is not a conversation I can have uncaffinated”

#asks #ruszhou #mark’s fic tag #anti max verstappen #anti red bull

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kimnjss · 4 years

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keep going | jjk

⤑ series: cherry pickers

⤑ pairing: gamer(fuckboi)!jungkook x video vixen(virgin)!reader

⤑ genre: smut!! (and the start of angst at the end...)

⤑ rating: explicit

⤑ word count: 4.8K // unedited.

⤑ warnings: cursing, slight dirty talk, oral sex (m/f. receiving), handjob, cum shot, face sitting, spitting, grinding, (half-assed) 69-ing, nipple play, groping, dry humping, they’re both half drunk nd messy.

⤑ A/N: hiiii! how are you? sooo ., i decided to make the party two parts bc i had terrible time management today nd it’s getting late - buut i really wanted to post today. sooo part two up tomorrow!!

MAY 8TH, 2020 | 23:30

Jungkook hears your squeal over the booming bass of the music, long before you're appearing through the crowd of drunk partygoers. Jimin is steps behind you, large black glasses resting on the tip of his nose. Eyes likely bloodshot underneath them obvious from the stumble in his walk. Your hair fans out behind you as you run, jumping with a shout onto your boyfriend. Who is more than ready to catch you. Hands splayed over the small of your back, while your legs wrap around his waist.

Giggling, even though nothing's really funny. Cold hands finding his cheeks as your hair creates a curtain on one side of his face. “My baby!” Speaking a bit too loud for how close you are, but he doesn't mind it. Especially since you're quick with covering his mouth with yours. The strong taste of alcohol hitting his tongue as if how drunk you were wasn't already obvious.

The kiss doesn't last long because you're being distracted by your thoughts, lips parting from his, you begin to bounce in his arms. Thighs brushing against his waist and the skirt of your dress riding up the swell of your ass. “Jimin said you got dressed up for me,” You're wearing this pretty smile on your face, cheeks tinted pink and he's not too convinced it's just from the alcohol.

He nods without a bit of hesitation because he had nothing to hide. Wouldn't even be stood here in this outfit if he didn't think you'd find him attractive in it. Another squeal is leaving your lips, legs leaving his body as you jump down out of his grasp. Taking a step back to fully take in his appearance.

“You look good enough to eat,” Moving in close to him, your arms lift to wrap around his neck. Tugging gently so his face is level with yours, the tip of his nose nudging against your cheek as you lean up to reach his ear. “We'll get to that later, though.” A gentle kiss pressed to the outside of it and you're sure you hear a moan leave his lips.

Not dwelling too much on the sound, you pull back, taking his hand in his, leading him into the kitchen where you swear you saw Jimin disappear. Probably in search of smoother drinks to accompany the numerous shots swimming in his stomach. Jimin was quite the drinker and a bit hard to keep up with, either way, you managed without falling over. That was definitely a plus.

Jungkook had been here an hour or two before you showed up. Found Taehyung in the crowd and Yoongi after that, the three of them spending time drinking and talking while he waited for you. Your friends were cool and he was enjoying the music and everything, but at the end of it, he was most looking forward to seeing you... even if he had been with you just the day before.

Shots were passed around and Yoongi had his mind set on getting absolutely trashed, him and everyone within a ten-foot radius. Which had him refilling every single empty glass in sight. Including Jungkook, despite the fact, he was on the far end of the couch. So yeah, not as drunk as you, but definitely heading in that direction.

Who cares, though? It was a party after all.

MAY 9TH, 2020 | 00:19

Sat up on the kitchen counter with Jungkook beside you, quietly sipping from his cup while you talk a mile a minute with the guys in the room. Taehyung has taken an interest in Jimin who has made it his entire business to play hard to get. The whole nine yards, honestly, not looking directly at him while he spoke, acting aloof when it was clear to any of your close friends that Tae was enjoying the undivided attention.

Yoongi had gone somewhere a good half hour ago, nothing but a brief mumble of his departure which was drowned out by the music. Hoseok was leaving a few moments after him, loudly declaring he wanted to go dance. Yet, you have yet to see the inevitable circle form around him.

That left Joon and Jin with you and Jungkook, the four of you laughing and talking loudly about something that you'd no doubt forget in the morning. Well, three of you... Jungkook only half listened, the rest of his attention on you. Hadn't taken his eyes off you since he was setting you down on the counter and it was getting a little hard to ignore his stare.

Jungkook was always obvious, hardly ever beat around the bush... especially when it had anything to do with you. So just one look in his direction and you could tell that he was undressing you with his eyes, playing a dirty movie in his mind where the two of you were the stars.

Normally, you'd tease him. Get him all riled up until he was whining, basically begging for some type of release. It was always fun to see how far you could push him, how much you could get away with before he was becoming a mess of himself.

Strangely tonight, though, you didn't feel like teasing. Wanted him just as much as he wanted you, if not more. And with this liquid courage cruising through your veins, you didn't care if he knew it. You didn't care who knew it. Jin has sparked Joon's argumentative spirit, claiming he was right about something that Joon literally based his entire life on.

It's not often you get to see Joon get riled up, especially in the face of a stranger. But the oddly sexy vein popping out at the side of his neck is very low on your list of concerns. No, your focus is on Jungkook and how you can get him from this room to upstairs a little more private.

“Koo,” His head snaps in your direction in an instant at the sound of your voice, cloudy eyes taking in your outstretched arms. Instantly putting together that you were beckoning him toward you, he doesn't waste a moment to stand in front of you. Palms settling down against the tops of your thighs, the coldness of them forcing goosebumps to rise on your warm skin.

Long legs stretching out to wrap around his hips, pulling him closer. You always wanted him closer. Fingers tangled in the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him down closer to you. He kisses you immediately, hands wrapping around your thighs, using his grip to pull your body toward him. He's hard. Can feel it pressed right against your thigh, a curious hand dropping down his torso until you're able to reach him.

Jungkook flinches at the touch, hips jerking forward and teeth scraping against your lower lip. The subtle pain pulls a moan from your lips that's quickly muffled by the determined twist of his tongue. Hesitant fingers inch underneath the hem of your dress and then back down your thighs, up a little higher, and then back down. His fingers repeat their movement three times before you're pulling away from his lips.

“What are you doing?” Your words come out through a laugh, hands on either side of his face as you look down to watch his fingers on your skin. “I'm just checking...” All slurred and barely coherent, he's not looking at you instead he's tracking the movements of his fingers as if he was in the midst of creating a masterpiece on your legs.

You can't help the laugh that slips past your lips at his focus, fingers racking through his short hair. Pushing the fluffy strands out of the way so you can get a better peak at the look of concentration on his face. “Checking what?”

Dark eyes lift to find yours, teeth catching his lower lip as he searches your features. Looking for any hint that you were uncomfortable. That you wanted him to slow down. Something that you constantly caught him doing if the two of you were moving past a peck. It was sweet, nice of him to always be thinking of you. But it did make you feel fragile like you needed him to look out for you. Never did you like this feeling, but coming from him... it didn't feel so bad.

“How high up you'll let me go this time. Do you want me to stop?” There's a second question hidden in there. He wasn't just talking about his hands on his legs, but rather how far you were willing to go tonight. It's obvious because Jungkook was horrible at hiding what he was thinking, every thought written on his face at all times.

Which is why you're so quick to shake your head, using the hold you have around his waist to pull him further between his legs. His hardening length brushing against the crease of your thighs and you're humming at the feeling of warmth that spreads throughout your body. “Not yet. Keep going,”

That's all he needs to hear and it's like a switch has been flipped inside of him. Whatever restraint he had been using since you first jumped on him going out the window as his hands move higher up your legs, face nuzzling in the crook of your neck. His teeth catch your skin, blunt nails dragging their way to your ass and all you're left to do is whine and moan underneath him.

A hand running down the front of his pastel-colored pants to cover his crotch. Fingers flexing around his bulge, shamelessly palming him through his pants in the middle of Yoongi's kitchen. He's letting out a breathy groan, head falling back as his hips move in motion with your hand.

He looks so hot, it's almost unbelievable. Eyes squeeze shut, with his lower lip tucked between his teeth. Thick neck on full display, you can't help but lean up and kiss it. Sucking open-mouthed kisses into his skin, while your hand moves over him.

“Fuck,” he groans, loud enough for just you to hear. The sound sending a pang of arousal pooling between your legs. “I want to fuck you so bad,” It's a drunken confession that he's barely aware of, his focus on his hands squeezing your ass over the fabric of your dress.

Leaning back enough so your eyes catch his, he's looking at you with such desire and want. A look that you're no stranger to, but it definitely has you feeling a little less out of control tonight. Tilting your head up, you press a soft kiss to his lips, pulling back just before his tongue is able to slither past your lips.

“Wanna go upstairs?”

MAY 9TH, 2020 | 00:57

Jungkook takes two steps toward you the moment Yoongi's bedroom door is secured shut. Hands on either side of your face, holding your head steady as he goes in for a kiss. A sloppy rushed kiss that pulls deep groans from his lips. Fingers curling in your hair while his hand drops low on your waist, pulling your body into his.

He's spent long enough holding on to restraint, not wanting to tip the scale in either direction in hopes to keep you from pulling back. Only going as far as you'd let him, but now you were giving him the green light for more. And although, he wasn't sure how much more you were willing to give... he was going to enjoy all he was able to take.

His mouth falls from yours, fingers moving toward the neckline of your dress. The same tiny dress you deemed too tight to wear anything underneath, besides the lace thong that does nothing but look pretty against your skin. With a fluid motion of his hands, your tits are spilling out the top of your dress, nipples peaking from the cool air circulating around the room.

His cock stiffens in his pants at the sight. Trying not to be obvious with the way the sight of your bare chest makes him drool. This was so far from being the first time he's seen boobs, but this was the first time he was seeing yours and that felt like the first time ever. He didn't know what to do with himself. Brain working overtime trying to figure out where to start. He wanted all of you, that much wasn't a secret. But he knew that he had to be careful, this was a privilege of course. A rarity. One wrong move and he fuck it all up for himself.

The blank stare on his face does nothing for the pounding in your chest. Wishing that he'd just say something instead of staring the way he was. Not even looking directly at you. Did he think they were weird? Were you doing too much? Should you cover up?

Two strong hands wrap around your thighs, lifting your body off of the ground. Finally, finally looking up at you with those dark brown eyes of his. So easy to read, so filled with lust. For you. Long strides taken across the room and before you know it, your body is being surrounded by fluffy sheets and the smell of Yoongi.

“You're so perfect,” He sounds like he's in disbelief, shaking his head at his own words as he climbs onto the bed with you. Your head trapped on either side of his arms, hips pressed flush together. He fit so well between your legs.

Warm lips meet yours, tasting heavily of alcohol and his fruity lip balm. He's swallowing the moan that falls from your lips, tongue pushing against yours as his hips move in a slow rut. Kissing you breathless with his hand wrapped around one of your breasts, thumb flicking against your nipple. So easily pulling moans and whines from your lips with a simple flex of his muscles. “I can't believe I'm with you,” His words murmured against your lips, but your heart is standing at full attention, ready to swell in his favor.

Pulling back only to leave a trail of wet kisses down the length of his neck, mapping his way to your breasts. A breathy cry of his name falls from your lips when his teeth scrape against the hardened nub. Chuckling soft, his eyes lift to meet yours as he wraps his lips around it. Tongue moving just as it had been inside your mouth and you can't help but wonder how it'd feel in other places too.

Always ten steps ahead of you, Jungkook's hand outlines the curve of your breasts all the way down to the dip of your waist, passing your hips until the tips of his fingers catch the hem of your skirt.

He pulls off your chest with a pop, a thin line of spit connecting his lower lip to your skin. His tongue juts out to break it while his gaze lowers to watch himself reveal more and more of your skin with each movement of his hand. It's not long until your entire dress is bunched up at your waist, the maroon thong you had shimmied into on full display for his greedy eyes.

The growing wet patch between your legs is all he can seem to focus on. Jungkook startles you with his quickness, head dropping between your legs in an instant. Arms looping around your thighs to hold them apart, nose nudging against your covered clit as his tongue flattens against your slit.

“Holy fuck!” It's like someone has lit your entire body on fire. Back arched off the bed and toes pressed against the sheets. He's letting out a laugh, the prettiest sound you've ever heard paired with that toothy grin of his. Three gentle kisses are placed right on top where his tongue just had been.

Reaching down to find his soft head of hair, you gently drag his face up away from your sensitive pussy. His nose bumping against yours and his stiff cock resting just above your clit. Much harder than before and you can only guess why. Yet, despite his obvious arousal and his desperate want to continue, he's still able to compose himself enough to ask.

Pressing the softest of kisses to your lips, fingers pushing strands of your hair out of the way. “Keep going?” Silently hoping that you answer in his favor. Pretty much over the moon when you're nodding, hips lifting to meet his. It's his turn to curse, teeth cutting into his lip to keep from being too loud.

Kind of hard with the way you were grinding against him. Even through your useless panties, his boxers, and pants, he could feel you. How warm you were, wet too. So sure that his fingers would slip right in. How many would you actually be able to take? Just one? Two? Maybe three?

Had to be at least three if you expected to take his dick after. Never one to brag, but Jungkook was a decent size. Thick in the places that it mattered most, long enough to boost his confidence. Definitely took pride in the way your eyes would go wide when seeing it. Were you thinking about it too? Him fucking you.

“Yn, fuck.” He's hissing through clenched teeth, only now noticing the work you've done at the front of his pants. Buttons undone and fly wide open, your warm hand down the front of his briefs to fish out his throbbing length. It only grows harder in your soft grip, twitching at the brush of cool air.

It takes two of your small hands to cover him, the pink mushroom tip peaking out from your closed fists. Hands twisting in opposite directions and he doesn't even hesitate to fuck into the hole you've created. Eyes fluttering as breathy moans fall from his lips, heavy balls slapping against your covered pussy.

Jungkook's got a firm grip on your breast, the other hand clutching the bunched up fabric of your dress. Head bowed as he watches his cock disappear and reappear between your hands. He has no shame in the fact he's imagining it's you he's fucking. That he's being squeezed by the tightness of your walls. Imagining that you're reaching your limit too, instead of him selfishly getting his release. Every single time.

He loses it when you're sitting up, spitting into the palm of your hand to create a much wetter slip for his cock. Hands tightening around him and moving at a much faster pace. He's gasping and groaning, fucking forward as if he's buried inside of you. And you're close too, it makes him feel a lot better about the loud way he spills his load onto your stomach.

Warm and sticky against your clammy skin, you're lifting a hand off of him to dip your fingers into the mess. He watches the way you drag through it, bringing your index finger up to your mouth. “Oh, God.” He groans, earning a pretty giggle from you. His mouth is on yours again within an instant, fingers tangling in your hair as his tongue rolls around the inside of your mouth.

Tasting himself on your tongue and that just makes him want you more. “Please let me taste you.” His eyes still feel heavy and his body too, but that's the least bit of his concern. He wants to make you feel good. It's only fair, with the way you're constantly catering to him. You deserved it. “Please,”

Not even worried about sounding desperate or even whiny, he just wants you. He wants you to want him. And you do. Have wanted him since the first time you met him if you're honest. Tonight all of that was only amplified, a mixture of the alcohol and the realization of how quickly you had fallen for him.

Didn't even realize it was happening until it was done. Jungkook was quickly becoming it for you. Not a day went by where he wasn't on your mind, yearning to see him, to talk to him, to kiss him. Needy in ways that were nearly foreign to you. Always so good at keeping it together, but when it came to him you just couldn't.

And you didn't really want to either.

“Okay,” His face breaks into this huge smile and you can't help the laugh that falls from your lips. “Okay?” He has to check, make sure that he's hearing you right. And when the sound of your laugh fills his ears, followed by another confirmation he's almost ready to jump for joy.

Springing up, he's shrugging his shirt off. Wiping the drying cum from your stomach as a true gentleman would. Tossing the dirty fabric to the side, he's shifting to lay on his back before you're stopping him. “Take this one off too,” Reaching for the sleeve of his undershirt and he doesn't waste a moment before tugging it over his head and tossing it to the side.

He's moving to lay on his back before you're allowed the proper time to admire his well worked on chest. The ripples in his stomach that can only be accomplished with hours upon hours in the gym. His head lifts to find you sat up in the same spot, this quizzical look on his face which you return with a laugh.

“Come sit on my face,” He says it like it's the most obvious thing in the world, reaching out for your wrist, to gently drag you toward him. Your eyes are saucers, cheeks flushed at the thought of being sat up on him like that. “Why?” It's obvious to the both of you why, but you wait for his answer anyway.

His shoulders lift in a slight shrug, lips stretching into a slow sexy smile. “I've always wanted you to sit on my face,” He's so calm about it too as if he didn't just admit to the dirty secret thoughts that bounce around his head when the two of you are alone. You're so inclined to give this man whatever he wants that you don't bother to fight it anymore, simply lifting yourself up to stand over his head.

Taking in the way he's smiling up at you like a kid on Christmas, arms looped around your legs to help you lower yourself onto him. The tips of his fingers latch onto the waistband of your panties, tugging them far enough down your legs so he's getting a good look at your bare pussy.

Lips glistening with your arousal, slightly puffy from the bit of stimulation. There's a small patch a hair above it, trimmed into a neat triangle. Almost like an arrow saying: Jungkook's mouth goes here. And he's forever one to follow a sign. With his arms looped around your thighs, he's lowering you comfortably over him. He lands an open-mouthed kiss on your clit, using the grip he holds on your thighs to hold your body still.

Gasping, your hips jerk, body lunging forward to brace yourself on his stomach. “Fucking cute,” He murmurs into your pussy, head tilting to the side so his tongue can reach deeper inside of you. Paying close attention to the sounds of your whines to make sure that you're enjoying yourself just as much as he was.

Much sweeter than he had thought, arousal dripping down the sides of his lips. You've got a tight grip in his hair, hips moving in stuttered thrusts against his mouth. A hand pressed onto his stomach, nails scraping against the skin. He's cautious with introducing his fingers to the mix, teasing your hole slowly before he's pushing one in. Cock stiffening at the loud wail that leaves your lips, legs spreading wider for him.

It's never felt this good. Not when you're alone with your own hand down there. His is much longer, thicker. Reaching deeper inside than you ever could. With lips latched around your clit and a single finger fucking inside of you, Jungkook's pretty sure he's died and gone to heaven. The sounds of your moans being the welcome bell.

His tongue moving around your clit in quick circles and he swears he feels your walls clench around his fingers. So wound up, it's not long before you're nearing your end. And he takes the chance by pushing another finger alongside the first one, much tighter and harder to move but the sound that leaves your lips eggs him on.

“Shit, baby...” He pants against you, the warmth of your hand around his shaft making him lose focus. You stroke him lazily, barely able to keep your head up with the way he's making you feel. But you manage, tongue poking out to roll against the tip. His whines vibrate against your pussy and throughout your entire body, forcing an involuntary roll of your hips.

Fingers plunging deeper inside of you as his hips lift, cock brushing against your lips at the same time he's curling his fingers. Pressing against the rough patch that has you spiraling out of control, hips bucking against his face and grip tightening in his hair. “Jungkook, fuck! I'm...” Pretty much delirious at this point because he has no interest in letting up, determined to knock you over the edge if it's the last thing he does.

A string of curses leaves your lips. Sloppy kisses landing on his length, a failed attempt to muffle them. All at once you're feeling pressure build and snap in the pit of your stomach, a wave of heat washing over you. Your legs shake on either side of his head, loud cries of his name and incoherent sentences falling from your lips.

Jungkook holds you steady through all of it, the movement of his tongue slowly as you come down. Lips puckering to plant a gentle kiss to your lips, just as your body is falling limp against his. Slowly pulling his fingers from inside of you, he doesn't waste a moment with sucking your juices from them, humming contently at the taste.

“So sweet,”

Shifting in his hold, you move to sit on his lap. His nose, mouth, and chin are shiny with your arousal, cheeks flushed and eyes hooded, hair a knotted mess. He looks absolutely fucked out and it's so hot. Lowering yourself, your mouth is finding his, tongue plunging into his mouth as you lower your body. The tip of his cock nudging against your clit, forcing a moan from your lips.

All it would take is a certain angle of your hips and he'd be sinking inside of you. Stealing away your virginity with a single thrust of his hips. You wanted that so bad. With him. Only him. “Jungkook.” Sighing his name out, his cock twitches between your legs. And from the way his eyes go wide, you can tell he's just noticed how close you actually were.

“I want you to fuck me. Please, Kookie,” There's slight whine in your voice, but you don't care how desperate you sound. You've never wanted something this bad. Felt it in your chest, your stomach, your core. You wanted him.

He doesn't say anything for a while, eyes scanning over your features for a little longer than you'd like. Before he's letting out a soft sigh, his hand reaching up to push his hair back on his head. Sitting up with you in his lap, his hand lifting to wipe at the wetness around his lips. “Fuck, princess. Not tonight. Not yet,” Two large hands set on your shoulders, he's offering up an apologetic smile.

A pout is already forming on your lips. You can't help it, your brows just seem to automatically furrow and your lip pushes out. “Why not?” His hand is lifting to pat your hair, head tilting up to press a soft kiss to the tip of your nose.

“Because, when I fuck you... I'm gonna fuck you.” You'd think he was explaining the cuteness of puppies with the way he was looking at you. The tone he was using. “And you've been drinking. I need to make sure you remember every second,” His fingers rub against your scalp lightly before he's going in for another kiss.

Not even a moment is granted for the sting of rejection to settle in. The moment he's pulling away and gently nudging you off of his lap to redress, there's a loud knock on the door and you're becoming all too aware of the party that was still going on downstairs. A loud crash follows the knock and you can hear shouts from two very familiar voices.

And then another, much harder knock. Joon's voice sounding from the other side. Hurriedly explaining all the commotion going on downstairs.

“Hoseok and Yoongi are fighting!”

— known for your body and surrounded by rumors about your sex life… rumors that he doesn’t think to doubt. until he’s meeting you… forced to realize there’s much more to you then the thonged shorts and lacy costumes.

⤪ masterlist ⤨

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astranva · 4 years

Text

Falling Duet

Word Count: 2.4k

Category: Fluff but it’s so 🥺

Warning: Nothing

Request: harry dating singer!reader: he has to perform at some awards and he invites her to sing with him but no one else knows? love your writing🤧❤

Summary: You and Harry sing an unreleased version of Falling at an award show.

The lyrics used are of “Falling (other POV)” by THE cutie, Ally Naso 🤍

// masterlist //

**reposted bc tumblr is messing up the tags & nobody can view it. sigh.

It all started when a friend of yours had recorded you singing in your school’s bathroom during senior year.

7 years ago, you wouldn’t have believed it if somebody told you that you would be a 13-time Grammy nominated artist, as well as having 6 of that very award sitting on your shelf at your childhood home – one for Best Artist, and one for Album of the year.

You would have laughed even.

But it wasn’t a joke nor was it a dream you wished to never wake up from; it was as real as life could be.

You were successful in the industry and if any of your fans were asked, they would say that it was because of your immense talent and unproblematic, empathetic, kind character.

It was one of the many reasons why so many people on the internet had shipped you with a certain English man, him having been only 20 when you went viral and got signed.

A year into the industry, it was one day when you remember your Twitter notifications going crazy;

“HARRY STYLES JUST SAID HE LOVES YOUR MUSIC AND THINKS YOU’RE BEAUTIFUL”

“omg pls tell us you watched 1d’s interview with jimmy kimmel”

“IT’S FINALLY HAPPENING! CAN YOU PLEASE BE TOGETHER ALREADY???”

Looking back at that memory, you remember how you were a shaking and overwhelmed mess as you had clicked on the link everybody was sending you.

The video had begun with the audience cheering as the camera was on Jimmy and the 5 men near him.

And there he sat; in a black suit with a white shirt underneath, medium-length hair looking like he had run his fingers through many times, his hands clasped as he looked at Jimmy.

“Who’s most likely to let a woman split the band?” Jimmy had asked.

They had looked at each other, not answering for a moment before Niall chimed in with a laugh as he pointed at Harry, “Harry would let his celebrity crush do that.”

Harry rolled his eyes jokingly as his bandmates agreed and laughed, slapping his hands against his thighs in feigned annoyance.

“Who is that? Who’s your celebrity crush?”

“Just this talented person.” He had tried to smile his way through the question, but no one was having it.

“You know Y/N Y/L/N? She’s an amazing singer,” Louis told Jimmy.

“Y/N!” Jimmy beamed, “We had her on the show two weeks ago.”

“Yeah, he watched that.” Liam had gestured towards Harry.

Hiding his face in his hands for a moment, the audience cheered as his friends continued to laugh.

“She’s amazing, isn’t she?” Jimmy asked Harry in a teasing manner.

Having had decided to get it over with, Harry nodded as he clasped his hands together again, “She’s very talented and beautiful.”

“Lovie, can you help me with the necklace? My nails are still drying.”

You looked up from your place on the couch, sitting in your long dress looking so beautiful that Harry had lost track of time of getting into his own suit because he was too busy giving you a photoshoot on his phone.

Standing up, you reached and clasped his necklace for him, dusting his shoulders to signal that you were done.

Turning, you were met with your boyfriend of 4 years beaming at you before he leaned to press his lips against yours.

“You look so good.” You smiled up at him, “So beautiful.”

“Have to try to catch up with how you look tonight,” he replied with a wide smile, “Nervous?”

“Not really.” You admitted.

Amusingly and completely and utterly in love, Harry tilted his head slightly, “Any reason why you’re not? You usually hate those.”

It was true. You didn’t really like award shows because of how tiresome all the process was; hair, makeup, dressing up, walking only to pause every second, the repeated questions you have been answering for years, how more judgmental the world was on nights like these.

But it was always when Harry was able to be by your side that you liked the night, and the tall man knew it, but he had always loved hearing you say it.

To feed his ego, you wrapped your arms around his neck, “Because you’ll be there.”

“Music to my ears.” He joked, shaking his head slightly.

“Just feeding that already overfed ego of yours, baby.”

“Excuse you.” He pecked your lips, “Let me add food for Evie then we can leave.”

“I’ll do it, don’t mess up your nails.” You patted his chest before moving away to attend to your cat.

The fans and reporters all had anticipated the moment of yours and boyfriend’s arrival, and the both of you knew it.

You were fairly private with your relationship. While everyone knew you were together, the both of you didn’t always post about one another but when you did, it went viral – something you and Harry, shamelessly, enjoyed.

It was why during moments like this, everyone was eager. Reporters were hungry for content, all having different intentions, but you spend enough time in the industry and you sort of begin knowing what to say and how to say it.

Harry was scheduled to perform, something everyone knew of, but it was the fact that you were joining him not on the red carpet, but on stage that they didn’t.

Getting out of the car together, the screams and flashing lights were then doubled.

Harry closed the door behind you with a polite smile to the security standing. Bending a little, he adjusted your dress’s short train for you as you looked back at it before you looked up at him.

As if they weren’t snapping pictures like crazy yet, you reached and fixed Harry’s hair at the front, his eyes looking up with a smile as you did so.

“Thanks, love.”

With that, Harry placed his arm around your waist as you walked to the first spot on the red carpet.

“When was the last time we appeared together? They’re going mad.” You whispered, looking at Harry as he smiled to the cameras.

He chuckled, looking at you, “I think we deprive them too much.”

“Let’s give them enough content to last a year.”

Nobody but the both of you knew what you meant, and it was why the flashing lights and camera shutter sounds were then tripled the moment Harry’s lips were on yours in a soft kiss.

“Can we sign stuff?” You asked a woman standing on the sides, “Can we see the fans?”

When she nodded at you, you and Harry ignored posing for a few minutes to converse and meet fans.

“I love you and Harry so much!” One fan said shakily as you signed a paper for him.

“Thank yo- Hey! I saw you in Amsterdam last year, right?” You grinned.

And that was another thing not only your fans loved about you, but Harry, too.

You were no stranger to connections. You were no stranger to making people feel seen and treating them in a way that no fan expected to be treated – a friend, and you remember friends.

“Harry, do you think Y/N will win Songwriter of the Year?” A fan asked.

Harry shrugged with a smile, “I hope so but we all know she is anyway.” He waved his hand with a joking manner, making the closest fans laugh.

“What about you? Do you think you’ll win Artist of the Year?”

“I don’t know,” he smiled, “There are so many amazing artists. I wish them all the best.”

“He’s a humble man,” you teased, patting his shoulder, “We all know he is anyway.”

You were confused as they, Harry included, laughed in shock. “What?”

“He literally has just said the same thing about you.”

You laughed, looking at Harry, “Shut up, no way!”

“The both of you have been doing that for years.” One fan commented with a grin, “It’s adorable. It’s like telepathy or something.”

“Oh yeah, we are telepathic,” Harry nodded, “It gets a little scary sometimes.”

“Heeey!” You laughed, “It’s actually helpful. One of us would be just walking at home and we’d look at each other and know that the other just means something like “feed Evie” or “take out the trash””

“This is so cute!”

“Harry, what are you performing tonight?”

“You’ll find out in a bit.” He pointed.

Shortly, you and Harry had to take more pictures and do interviews before you were escorted inside.

It was the little moments that fans also lived for; how Harry held your hand as you sat so discreetly, how the both of you chatted and giggled among one another and those around you, how Harry fist-bumped the air the moment your name was called to receive your award of Songwriter of the Year before kissing you. It was how they knew this was real – how love wasn’t something you only listen people sing about or write novels for.

It was in how Harry’s eyes didn’t move from you as you gave your speech, a wide smile on his face and eyes resembling twinkling stars for crying out loud.

It was in how you ended your speech with: “This is to the man who has inspired and pushed me forward to write every single day. I love you.”

It was in how you looked more nervous than Harry himself when his category was called before you were the first to get out of your seat with a happy “yes!” once they announced that he won.

It was in how Harry cupped your face that moment to kiss you before walking to receive his award.

It was in how you remained standing, those behind you only smiling instead of being annoyed, with your hands clutched together against your heart, tearful eyes, and the brightest smile in the room.

“You’re going to tell me this is cheesy,” Harry chuckled slightly, giving a shrug as he looked at you, “But I wouldn’t be standing here, holding this, if it weren’t for you. I love you, too.”

But then Harry was about to perform and you weren’t in your seat.

The award show had decided to make a skit of it, the host being Miley had held her microphone as she stood in the empty isle beside yours and Harry’s empty seats.

“We know Harry Styles is performing in minutes,” she said, looking at the camera with a playful smile, “But where is Y/N Y/L/N? We know, we know,” she nodded, “Probably backstage for some extra good luck but-” people laughed, causing Miley to pause and chuckle, “But seriously, guys. There’s a show and it must go on.”

“It’s going on.” Harry said from backstage into his mic before the stage went dark.

It wasn’t until piano tunes sounded that the arena grew dim, a spotlight on the piano at the center of the stage where you sat, your fingers gentle against the keys as you played the beginning notes of Falling.

“I'm in my bed,

And you're not here

And there's no one to blame

But the drink in my wandering hands.” Harry sang as he came on stage, holding the mic in his hand before taking a seat beside you.

Everyone had expected him to sing the next verse, but it wasn’t his voice that they then heard.

“I'm in my bed

Instead of yours

Cried to sleep turned off all of lights and locked all of the doors.” You sang, eyes on the piano keys.

“Forget what I said

It's not what I meant

And I can't take it back

I can't unpack the baggage you left.” His eyes were on you, body turned slightly towards you as he felt like the both of you were in your living room in front of your white piano.

“I replay what you said

Don’t know if it’s true

Left with two broken hearts and there’s nothing that we could undo.” You sang, closing your eyes as you got ready for the chorus.

“What am I now? What am I now?

What if I'm someone I don't want around?

I'm falling again, I'm falling again, I'm falling.”

“What am I now? What am I now?

Don’t want to cry ‘cause I can’t stand the sound

I'm falling again, I'm falling again, I'm falling.”

The both of you sang together, your voice being softer and quieter than Harry’s.

“What if I'm down?

What if I'm out?

What if I'm someone you won't talk about?

I'm falling again, I'm falling again, I'm falling.”

“What if I'm down? What if I'm out?

What if you’re someone I can’t live without?

I'm falling again, I'm falling again, I'm falling.”

It was a version nobody had heard before, and it was why everyone was quiet, the only sound coming from you, Harry, and your lone instrument.

It was something you had written together following a rough patch of your relationship, and everyone knew that it was more personal with the way the both of you sang.

When his eyes weren’t closed, Harry sang as he looked at you, and he knew that performing this song meant more to the both of you than anyone could imagine. One look at your face and Harry knew you were reliving the night of when the both of you had written this; eyes a little red from crying, bodies hot, Harry wearing a hoodie of yours while you sat in your underwear with his purple fluffy robe on.

“Can I do this alone without ever needing you again?”

“And I get the feeling that you'll never need me again.”

You both sang the bridge together, yours being shorter than Harry’s note as you carried a softer tone, closing your eyes as you played the piano, feeling your throat close up before gulping.

He knew.

It was why the final chorus was sung softer and quieter, Harry’s forehead resting against your temple for a moment as the both of you sang.

“I’m falling again, I’m falling again, I’m falling.” Harry finished, putting his mic down as he stared at you with a small smile, watching you in your element as you played.

Managing to look at him as you played single soft notes, you sang, “I’m falling again, I’m falling again, I’m falling.”

You played the end single notes, looking at Harry with tearful eyes and a bashful smile.

It was like you were unaware to the erupted cheer and round of applause, you threw your arms around Harry, feeling his arms wrap around you instantly.

Crying from the overwhelming emotions, you were thankful your mascara was waterproof. You called it.

“I love you,” Harry whispered in your ear, “I love you so much.”

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #harry styles one shot

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ialwaysknewyouwerepunk · 3 years

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fearless - a close reading

this is louis speaking from the heart, getting so honest it hurts. good thing these lyrics are not directed at me bc wow i would be brittle. it’s louis the strong leader shining through, the wise older brother who gently offers advice when someone he cares about is going in the wrong direction. yea ig i did that sorry

i care about this one a lot, and genuinely it’s just another fucking banger, so here we go.

walls, track 8

*playground noises*

Cash in your weekend treasures For a suit and tie, a second wife

(another inconsistency with louis’s album booklet: there it says “cashing” - imp “cash in” makes the most sense, since otherwise there wouldn’t be a sentence)

“weekend treasures” - earns money over the weekend? has fun? good experiences? or is it sarcastic and is “you” just escaping for the sake of it

“cash in”: exchange your fun life for the one in a suit with a wife - living a double life

“suit and tie”: trope of the businessman with the family living a lie (- she)

superficial - looks, image of someone who has their shit together

Now I’m not saying that you could’ve done better Just remember that I, I’ve seen that fire alight

i’m saying you can be better though. i’m an old friend, i know you, and i can see now that your fire has been extinguished

Tell me, do you, tell me, do you still remember feeling young? Tell me the truth, tell me, do you still remember feeling young

conversation; louis is pressing the matter gently, repeating his question with added “tell me the truth” bc “you” is lying, to louis and to themselves

“you” can live a lie all they want but louis sees through it and won’t take them lying to him too. louis wants to get the truth out of them in order to help them

always “young” - old friends, lifelong experiences

And strong enough to get it wrong in front of all these people?

“you” is not being strong atm, though they used to be

“enough” - implies that the challenges and expectations are high and it takes a lot of strength to handle them

“you” is afraid to fail, and though they used to be resilient enough to get back up when it did happen, they lost that will to fight

“all these people” - who are they? an audience, watching? people judging them? “these” also implies they’re still there, and also that they’re close to/ (perhaps) watching louis - otherwise he would’ve used “those”

general “they” on walls, always with the eerie connotation of people judging, exercising influence

“wonder what they’d say if they could see us now” - wmi

“don’t know why they put all of this on us when we’re so young” - wmi

“when they said a love like this would never last” - too young

“and they’ll say, ‘i told you so’” - only the brave

Just for tonight, look inside and spark that memory of you Strong enough to get it wrong in front of all these people

stop ignoring yourself, for once

this person has thoroughly lost themselves: they need to spark the memory first, since that “you” is buried so deep down

“spark” - “fire alight”: keeping up the metaphor of this person’s personality and life force as fire, burning bright

Fearless, fearless Fearless, fearless

remember when you were fearless?

come on, babe, let’s be strong, proud, happy

Now if happiness is always measured By the life you design, that car on the drive

a life by design: fake

material possessions won’t bring you happiness, although “you” seems to be chasing happiness in that direction - got priorities wrong

louis’s own mentality about happiness shining through: it’s all about staying true to yourself, that’s when you’re truly happy

Then you should feel better than ever But you know as well as I, it’s all lies

“we’re in the same boat” - louis knows about this side of life: trying to chase happiness through wealth + living a lie

the life you have as a celebrity is not real: the riches, the attention, the stories; but “you” has lost sight of that, lost themselves in it - started living the lie without staying grounded in their real self, like they used to

implication that a celebrity always leads a double life, no matter what, and the way to stay sane is to keep that split in check, keep those lives separate

Tell me, do you, tell me, do you still remember feeling young?

SYNTHESIS

In Louis’s own track by track, he stays very close to the lyrics (for once) when explaining what the song is about. Additionally, our Peter Pan says that it’s about “encouraging youth and a little bit of recklessness.” *act my age starts playing*

This definitely reminds me of Louis’s relationship with a certain someone, but I’ll leave that in the middle. (There’s so many interpretations that I won’t interfere with your own findings, or my own future findings for that matter. I’d honestly love to hear whatever you think about this song!!)

In any case, Fearless is interesting in how it tells a story about someone else, someone Louis is speaking to and knows well, while it reveals a lot about Louis too. This “you” that has lost their way, lost their spark, has gone down a path that Louis could have gone down too, and maybe he almost did, or even tried out for a bit. Louis is full of patience and understanding, because he knows how hard it can be. He also knows, and says, that it’s necessary to keep re-evaluating yourself and what you’re doing in order to not get lost. He knows how easy it is to lose yourself and lose sight of what really makes you happy. It’s what he’s been singing about throughout the entire album.

Here, his friend, who he’s talking to as if he’s an older brother, almost, seems to have given up the fight without meaning to. What that fight is, in specifics, is something we’ll never know, of course, but Louis is still very revealing. Money, a second wife? If there’s one thing celebrities have said is how easy it is to lose yourself once you’re in the limelight. The attention, the money, the whirlwind of press surrounding you, a manufactured image to keep fans and labels/... as happy as possible... it sounds like hell to try to stay sane. If you have a network of people around you who genuinely care about your wellbeing, you might succeed in keeping your feet on the ground, but not everyone is that lucky. “They” might not have your best interests at heart, which is something Louis seems to have a lot of experience with.

Being a celebrity and staying sane as a someone in the public eye involves this image that’s all lies, but Louis seems to be saying that there’s no way around it. He’s definitely been vocal about how the industry is full of shitty experiences, Copy of a Copy of a Copy as a loud example of that, but he might be saying that the public image, the front that the fans and outsiders believe in, is necessary to be able to maintain some sanity, privacy, happiness.

What “you” has been doing, though, is leaning into that life, that image, that focuses only on material wealth, looks, having the picture-perfect job and relationship, and has lost of who they are along the way. And Louis, their friend since a long time, is asking them to calm the fuck down and use their brain for just one second to see if they can even remember who they used to be. (Honestly, if someone would ask me that? If I could spark the memory of me? I would burst into tears and sob until I was dehydrated. Seriously wtf.)

So, I definitely think there is truth in what Louis said in his track by track, but it digs a little deeper than just asking his friend to take life less seriously. As usual.

I hope the person who this song was directed to got the message and perhaps also made the decision to spend some more time with his old friend Tommo, bc he’s on the right side of things here. (As I think he usually is.) And he’s got their back.

#fearless #lyric analysis #walls analysis #i enjoyed this one very much <3 #such a good song with such great lyrics #also keep in mind that i'm purposefully only hinting at who this might be about bc really i have no idea #it's just a feeling #and it fits for me and that's how i like to roll yk #my brain my reality #anyways let me know what you think!!!

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hinatas-sunshine · 4 years

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Synopsis: How you met Akaashi, Iwaizumi & Suga! + How things go down when you two realize you go to the same school!

Genre: Fluff

A/N: I’m kinda shy on posting bc my notifs are on and y’all are so nice to me 🥺 feel free to send requests at any time and I’ll get to them ASAP! KITHES ❤️

Update: I’m posting twice today! Check out my other writings below or just find your way around my page! 💞

✿ Masterlist ✿ ✿ Find Your Way Around ✿

Akaashi:

• It was one of his rare days off of Volleyball and babysitting so he went to pick up a new book to keep himself distracted on bus rides and downtime

• You were Visiting the book store to pick up a new book as well after reading so many good reviews about it - you loved reading with all the downtime you had

• As you reached the book store you made your way to the isle the books genre was, before picking up the book - the last copy!

• You smiled before hearing a sigh behind you and turning to see a boy your age looking at the book in your hand

“Looks like the last copy.”

• You looked down at your hands before handing it to him smiling slightly

“I can just purchase it on my phone.”

• You wouldn’t because it wasn’t the same but you could always come back and buy it another time, you were feeling nice today

“No no, you were here first I can find another book.”

• He smiled at you returning it but you didn’t accept it, you held your smile coming up with an idea.

“You can read it and if we ever meet again, you can let me borrow it?”

• He smiled, nodding and walking off with the book before stopping in his tracks before looking at you again.

“Akaashi.... My names Akaashi.”

“Y/N.”

• He continued walking as you smiled turning around and scanning through more books to buy.

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

• Yeah you began seeing Akaashi everywhere around school now - it’s not that you didn’t know he existed you just never knew him personally.

• You also didn’t know he was so popular with the girls, sadly now known to you.

• He’d also notice you more, walking and reading your book, eating and reading your book. Definitely thought it was cute

“And I didn’t even spike it hard enough to break a vase- what are we looking at?”

• Once Bokuto found out, he was so excited to meet you.

“I’m captain and ace!”

“That’s so cool!”

• Akaashi loved how much enthusiasm you had talking to Bokuto, and he was glad the crazy owl haired boy befriended you because now he could too.

• Bokuto got Akaashi to ask you on a date to which you obviously said yes to

• You two spent a lot of time sharing thoughts about certain books, going on dates and taking care of Bokuto

“I’m just saying Hinata and Tsukki could be your kids!”

“No ❤️ we have enough with you 🧚🏻‍♀️✨🥰💞”

“Akaashi 😔”

• One certain date confused you as Akaashi brought you flowers and a gift

“What is it?”

“If I tell you it ruins the surprise - that’s what wrapping papers for hun.”

• You rolled your eyes playfully only to have a book left in your hands with wrapped paper on the floor

“The book! Aw I never got to read it!”

• He watched you gush over it and smiled, he swore he fell in love with you all over again

“Stop staring at me I’m shy!”

Iwaizumi:

• It was a New Year and what did that come with? New Years Resolutions!

• January 2nd, you began to regret saying everything about going on a morning run every morning

• but here you were, dressed in your running clothes with a hoodie to help the cold

• As you started running you felt your body temperature warm up as you got tired after a few minutes but still pushed yourself

• you looked to your right to see a certain brown haired boy pass you

“Bruh rude.”

• you picked up your pace and passed him - as you should queen 😗

• BUT HE PASSED YOU AGAIN!

• This turned into a competition of who could continued to run longer

• He won, but only because you began dying on all the air you weren’t getting 😣

• This became a daily thing because you two wanted to see your cute running partner every morning during you twos winter break!

• Neither of you spoke a word to each other though - it was just constant running and pushing each other to your limits.

• It wasn’t until you saw his friend jog up to him on your last morning running day and noticed who his very popular friend was, Oikawa, that you remembered who he was, but it was too late because Oikawa dragged him off.

“Oi! Shittykawa let me go!”

“Iwa-Chan you don’t have to be so mean!”

“Then stop being shitty!”

“Iwa-“

• You giggled at their banter before running back home, Iwaizumi watching your retreating figure, sighing.

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

• When Oikawa approached you a few days after school resumed - you hated it here 💞 not because of Oikawa but because of all the ugly looks from fans that came with him approaching you

“Y/N! Please you have to meet with Iwa! He’ll shred me to pieces for not letting him catch your name! Please!”

• You looked at the setter who was on his knees

Y/N: 👁👄👁, Oikawa-San please get up!

• What a weird sight this would be, Oikawa on his knees begging for you to just go to the gym after school and you frantically waving your arms around saying ‘alright’ and ‘Oikawa get up PLEASE!’ He’s so dramatic but Iwaizumi was holding a grudge against him

• You kept your promise and walked to the volleyball gym after school and mentally prepared yourself

This is a bad idea, What if he doesn’t want to see me?, stupid Oikawa what if he’s pranking me? I could be eating a good sandwich right now on the way home-

• Your own thoughts were cut off by the door swinging open and knocking you down ❤️

“Shit! Are you okay?”

• You looked up to see your classmate Mattsun with his hand out, which you took. Oikawa was laughing like a manic right about now

• Iwaizumi asking what Oikawa was laughing about before he saw you, his face now glowing a bright red as you gave him a shy wave

• Oikawa laughed even harder and called for a break to which Iwaizumi walked over to you

“Y/N, I don’t think I ever told you but my name is Y/N.”

“I like that... The names Iwaizumi.”

“Yeah your friend practically kept screaming Iwa-Chan while on his knees asking me to come here.”

“No! No I didn’t-“

• Makki and Mattsun had teased Oikawa for getting on his knees and begging to which Iwa just yelled at him for being embarrassing

• That became your life as his girlfriend soon, hearing the bickering and the taunting. You sometimes felt bad for Oikawa so you stood up for him at times

Y/N: Boys don’t be so mean

Oikawa: Y/N-Chan loves me! Unlike you guys!

Iwazumi: I’ll choke you trashykawa, she’s my girlfriend

Oikawa: Not without my help!

• Yeah this was a common argument

Sugawara:

• You and Kiyoko were friends and you met Suga at Kiyoko’s birthday gathering!

• It happened when Noya and Tanaka saw you and Kiyoko hug and noticed you were her best friend

“Please date me!”

“Get me a date with my beautiful Kiyoko!”

• as you slowly backed away scared for your life Suga gabbed the two by their collars and yanked them back

“I’m sorry about them, they can be quiet a handful.”

“I told you two not to be weird during Kiyoko’s birthday party!”

• You spent a lot of time that night celebrating Kiyoko’s birthday at chatting with the sweet boy who saved you earlier

• He definitely had to get hyped up by Daichi to ask for your number

• You obviously gave it to him and Kiyoko was making fun of you

Noya: Not fair Senpai - why do you get to ask for her number but when I ask for a date everyone freaks out

• you two made plans to hang out in the future and definitely were both excited about it

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

• Things don’t always go as planned and you ended up seeing him at school

• How you hadn’t seen him before was beyond you but he saw you when you were walking with Kiyoko and laughing with her, he was giving you big puppy dog love eyes when Daichi sighed and pulled him to go say hi to you

• He got really happy when he saw you smile a bit bigger as they approached

• What he wasn’t expecting was to see you looking through your backpack all the sudden

“I put it in here somewhere - there’s that fork I was looking for earlier- AH HA!”

• He died when you pulled out a little volleyball keychain with a tiny crow you hooked onto it and a #2 charm

“I made this for you the other day! You were telling me all about how you played and I just thought you’d like it...”

�� His eyes twinkled with adoration and he immediately took it and put it on his bag thanking you with a hug Kiyoko had to drag you to class because you were love struck and frozen

• he keeps it on his bag and he makes sure he has it for every game - he wouldn’t trade it for the world

“This? Y/n made it for me! It’s awesome huh?”

• It wasn’t too long after that he had finally asked you on a date and you guys made it official - so you would spend a lot of time next to Kiyoko at games

Noya: They’re like Goddesses...

Suga: Yeah 🥺🥰💞

• This man is a simp for you don’t let him get away

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exploding-fountain · 2 years

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The New Six (episode 1)

Time-stamped links to each performance: Sungjun, Taehun, Kyungjun, Hyunsoo, Junhyeok, Junhyeok again, Eun Hwi.

So P Nation just released a 34 minute video on TNX's final pre-debut evaluations. First off, where are the other performances P Nation 👀 You can't tease us like that 🔪🔪🔪

But in all seriousness they'll probably release more. After all this video was all singing (and rapping), no dancing, and I'm sure they did some dance performances as well. So far P Nation's content game has been top-notch. This final pre-debut evals was a great idea. It has a little survival show energy (that little bit at the beginning with the whole "I started to wonder if we would ~ever~ debut!" like yeah sure it's a real mystery). It showcases their skills which fans love, Psy gets to monologue his heart out (him saying "oh Kyungjun might come off as cold but really he's just very shy!" like he's trying to forestall something, we get a few interview clips of the guys, and they were gonna do it anyway. like what are monthly evals but a camera-less survival show? Also, like Psy said, they perform better when the cameras are on. It's that dress rehearsal adrenaline babey. Also also the video says Ep. 1 implying there's others.

Secondly, I was surprised by how good they all are at singing. I suppose the singing I've heard from them, on stages with hard choreos and backing tracks, wasn't the same as sitting in a chair and singing your heart out. It's still obvious that Junhyeok is their main vocal, but Sungjun, Kyungjun, and Taehun were better than I'd expected. Taehun has a really nice falsetto and I really liked Kyungjun's cover of Hollywood's Bleeding.

Kinda curious as to who those people sitting on the bench were. Are they other trainees? It's hard to tell since they're wearing masks and in the background but some of them were definitely girls.

I really appreciate Junhyeok singing his sad ballad soul out. The way it took him ten seconds to shake off his sad funk after his performance bc he got so into it. Guy really could be an actor. I know TNX is gonna be a hip hop based kpop group but I hope Junhyeok gets to sing his ballads. I mean how hard can it be to throw a ballad into an album list? (I say, knowing nothing of music production).

P Nation artists seem to have a habit of collabing ("I rep P Nation this and everyday thing") and I hope they collab with TNX as promotion. And just in general. I want to see more of Dawn before he enlists.

Kind of don't like how they don't mention Koki. It feels like they're trying to cover it up–the whole bit about Sungjun being the youngest (now) and no longer the shortest didn't sit right with me. You put him in all your content. They didn't eliminate him, they eliminated Daniel. Which I'm still salty about by the way. Isn't he exactly what Psy was looking for? I get that he's (really) behind in dance but so is Eun Hwi. At the end of the day we're not entitled to answers, only Daniel is. But it means that from P Nation's perspective Loud was just the journey to find Eun Hwi. And to build a fanbase. Which they did. I'm here, aren't I? Ugh.

But I'm so glad that Koki's not debuting. I hope he enjoys his childhood. I hope he doesn't spend the next six years stuck in practice rooms, losing sight of what he's passionate it about. He has eight years until he's as old as TNX's oldest member. Eight years. As long as he practices singing he'll be fine–he's already a main dancer.

As an example I propose: Lily Morrow, Nmixx's oldest member and main vocal. In 2014 she was on Kpop Star and placed fourth when she was only twelve. Since then she's seen Twice, Itzy, Stray Kids and NiziU debut and wasn't in any of them, nor was she on Sixteen or the Stray Kids show. From 2014-2022 she was training. So it is possible. Personally I think it's a waste of childhood to spend it like that, but I can't fathom wanting to be a kpop idol, so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Thirdly, I really appreciate Psy's speech at the end. (Also starting the sentence with "that thing that Native Americans do" had my problematic sensors tingling. But it was fine! I mean, I'm sure not all of them do it but it could've gone badly, is what I'm saying, and it didn't. It was wholesome in fact. 100% chance of rain indeed). The whole "debut won't be as successful as you hope, but it's okay because you'll be successful eventually because I'll never give up on you" was really heart-warming. So often I hear about companies tossing groups aside when they're not successful enough or when something new comes along. Of course Psy just saying "I will support you till you become successful" doesn't mean he will, but it still means something that he said it at all.

Finally, Psy saying that Eun Hwi will take care of most of their albums in the very near future tells me that he didn't produce their debut, which I suspected given how little time he would've had to do that. Plus this is the debut of P Nation's first group. They don't have anything to fall back on. I suspect the members contributed to the lyrics though.

(Side note: it sounds like Hwi's song was a pun on his name? His song is called "Up" and every time the captions say he said "up" it sounds like "we-oh" or "hwi-uh." But then I don't speak Korean, so who knows).

I appreciate how at 27:57 the camera moved to his shadow. Nice touch and shows that the people behind the scenes really care about this stuff.

I really appreciate how there were subtitles in English, Chinese, and Japanese (and Korean but those were embedded). It's a little amusing how they just left out words like "weed" and swear words. "I get my from California" bro we can hear him say weed. Or when they left out the intro that was full of swears. Or when Eun Hwi yelled "FUCK" and the captions were like 😐 👀 he didn't say anything.

Overall very excited!

#tnx #kpop #p nation

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dream-a-little-bigger-x · 4 years

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Curiosity Killed The Cat | Owen Patrick Joyner

Requested: Yes/No

Hi! I was wondering if you can do an Owen imagine kinda based off his Instagram story of him finding a cat. I was thinking he’d actually find the missing cat though and come ring your doorbell at 4am bc he’s chaotic. You can decide everything. Thank you in advance!!!

A/N: The cat doesn’t actually die in this, it’s just a saying that i liked for the title, so don’t worry! It’s got a happy ending!

Pairing: Owen x Fem!Reader

Song(s) used: none

Warnings: none

Words: 3,949

A week. It had been exactly one week since y/n last saw her cat, Tunabean. The white, grey striped Ragamuffin cat had been absent from y/n’s apartment for way longer than she normally would be and it worried y/n to the point where she’d be out looking for the little rascal every night after work.

“Found her yet?” Jamila asked as she entered y/n’s apartment after coming home from work.

Jamila was y/n’s roommate and best friend since college. The two had lived together through their college career and decided to be roommates after too, as long as neither had significant others to go live with.

“No,” y/n’s lip stuck out into a pout as she feverishly reposted the message on all her social media platforms. “People have been tearing down my posters as well. Did you see the ones near Andrews Park? They were torn to shreds!”

Jamila pulled her lips into a tight smile before putting her bags on the dining room table and joining y/n on the couch. “Yeah, I saw. I’m really sorry, y/n. If you want, we can go and put up some more posters? Exchange the torn up ones with some fresh ones?”

“You’d do that for me?”

“Of course! Sweetie, I’d do anything to get little Bean home, you know that, right?” y/n nodded her head in response, though she wasn’t sure if she knew that.

Jamila wasn’t the biggest fan of Tunabean at first. She hated cats. Growing up, she’d always had a dog but never a cat. She didn’t trust the little rascals for one second. So, when y/n showed up with little Tunabean after having had what felt like the worst week of her life, Jamila was a tiny bit angry. But eventually warmed up to Tunabean when the little kitty seemed so placid, you could easily cuddle up to it on the sofa.

“Let’s go find Zach at his work, bribe him to print me more posters for cheap, hang ‘em up around town and then maybe Tino’s?” Jamila’s eyes lit up at the mention of her favorite restaurant.

She snapped her fingers and pointed finger guns at her best friend. “Sounds like a plan!” she said and wrapped her scarf tighter around her neck. It was a cold November day and no person could leave their house consciously without being bundled up into layers and layers of clothing.

“I hope Bean didn’t hide under a car and the owner didn’t tap the hood before getting in…” y/n muttered, her voice thick with worry, as they exited the apartment building and stepped into the blistering cold.

“I’m sure she just found a few boyfriends and is spending her time with them,” Jamila tried to reassure her, but knew all-too-well that Tunabean wouldn’t stay away this long, even if she had a lover cat to make little kittens with. She loved Jamila and y/n’s home too much.

“Are you slut shaming my cat right now?”

“Our cat,” Jamila corrected, causing a smile to find its way to y/n’s face, “And no, I am not. I’m just trying to be optimistic here, y/n.” Jamila tucked her cold hands into the pockets of her tan peacoat. “I’m sure Tunabean is alright.”

“What if she isn’t though? What if she’s like meowing somewhere in the middle of Norman and no one to hear her pleas?” Jamila rolled her eyes at how dramatic her best friend was being.

“Norman ain’t that big, sweetie. I’m sure if she’s meowing somewhere, we would’ve heard her already.”

“Exactly! Which means she’s either dead or god knows anywhere! She could be in Oklahoma City! We don’t know that!” y/n exclaimed loudly, using excessive hand gestures more so to keep herself warm than emphasis.

Jamila stopped in her tracks and grabbed y/n by the shoulders, stopping her too. “Stop being such a drama queen, y/n! I’m sure Tunabean is fine. Maybe she’s on an adventure or making new friends, you don’t know that!”

“You don’t care about our child, admit it,” y/n muttered. This rendered Jamila silent. “Admit you don’t care about our child, Jam!” Passer-byers shot them a weirded out glare, which Jamila sent right back.

“Oh, please! Don’t pretend there are no lesbian families in Norman too!” she yelled at them. The comical side of the whole situation made y/n laugh a tiny bit. “There’s that smile I like to see.” Jamila softly touched y/n’s chin with her knuckle before grabbing the girl’s hand in hers. The warmth of Jamila’s hand radiating through to y/n’s made her feel all toasty. “Let’s go print some posters!”

The girls reached a one-storey building with red decrepit letters stuck to the roof.

HOOPER PRINTING CO.

As y/n opened the glass door and held it for Jamila to walk in, the smell of ink reached her nostrils. Though not a very traditional scent to love, it reminded y/n of one of her best friends. It was like her brain just knew that the muscles in her cheeks would soon start to hurt thanks to Zachary. A boy the girls had met in college as Xana.

Jamila spotted the bleached blonde mop of hair immediately and signaled to y/n to sneak up to him. On their tippy toes, the two approached the tall slender man, and when they were close enough, they took in a deep breath and-- “Don’t even think about it,” Zach mumbled without even looking at them.

Jamila and y/n glanced at each other, cheeks puffed out from the breath they were holding. “How’d you--?” y/n didn’t even finish her sentence as she looked past Zach and her eyes landed on a tiny tv screen. Cameras, of course.

“Since when do you have security cameras?” y/n asked as she hopped onto the counter Zach was sorting invoices on.

He shrugged, “Sometime this week, I think.” His bright blue eyes met y/n’s as she sheepishly looked at him while kicking her legs. The boy sighed exasperated, knowing all too well what the girls are here for. “No. Not again.”

“Please, Zachy! Tunabean is still missing and her posters have been ripped down!” Her eyes teared up at the thought of her kitty being out there all by herself in Norman. All she could hope was that the creepy dudes from Doyle’s didn’t get their filthy paws on her little princess.

“Come on, Zach. You love that cat too!” Jamila chimed in, crossing her arms across her chest and glaring at him knowingly.

“Fine, come here,” he reached out his hand and y/n handed him the thumb drive on which she kept her self-made posters. “You’re gonna have to buy me Tino’s though.”

“We were going there afterwards, if you wanna join?” y/n’s voice was teasing and sly.

“I’m off at five,” he simply stated before pressing a few buttons on his desktop and waking up the printer closest to them. “How long has she been gone for?” he then asked after a few beats of silence. Y/N dropped her head and stared at her still moving legs for a moment.

“About a week,” she replied.

Zach pulled his lips into a tight smile. He reached his hand out and placed it gently on top of hers. “She’ll come back.”

“How can you be so sure? She might be hurt somewhere or dead and I won’t even know. I won’t even be able to say goodbye to her.” Tears pooled in y/n’s eyes as she thought of the sweet little kitten she had found in a ‘take one for free’ box on a curb one day. She was the last one left.

“I’m not sure, y/n. But I’d like to be optimistic. Besides, Tunabean is resilient and the most independent kitty I’ve ever known. She’ll survive. She’s probably out adventuring with some friends.”

Though the words weren’t very reassuring and y/n knew she had every right to be worried, they did calm her down a little. Tunabean was resilient and extremely independent. She’ll find her way back home.

“I’ll see you guys later, bye!” Owen waved at his friends as he stepped into the cold November night. It was 4 am and he was just returning home from a day spent with friends. He had fallen asleep during the movie, only waking up in the middle of the night, realizing his parents were probably worrying about him, seeing he’d told them he’d be home by midnight at the latest.

He softly hummed along to the song that was playing in his head as he walked down West Main Street, his hands tucked deep into his pockets to try and keep them warm. He should’ve brought a thicker coat or a thicker jumper.

“Ah, mister Joyner!” a familiar voice with a thick accent made him shake out of his train of thought about the cold. The friendly face of the robust Italian greeted him in the dim light of the restaurant behind him.

“Still working, Tino?” Owen asked as he stopped in his tracks to talk to the man everyone in Norman, Oklahoma loved.

“Already back at work, ragazzino!” he replied in his thick Italian accent. Owen always thought it was fake and just for show to lure clients, so that they knew he was a pure Italian man, sharing his love for the Italian cuisine in his restaurant.

“At four in the morning?!” Owen exclaimed, stunned at the man’s determination for his job.

“Deliveries don’t wait, signore.” His laugh boomed into the empty, dark streets of Norman. Owen couldn’t help but let out a laugh too while his eyes averted and landed on a poster in the window. A black-and-white picture of a small cat stared back at him.

MISSING: TUNABEAN

Grey-and-white striped ragamuffin cat, listens to the name Tunabean.

“She’s been missing for a week, the poor girl who owns her is worried sick,” Tino told Owen when he noticed what he was looking at. The blond twenty-year-old pressed his lips together. He only ever had a dog that had never run away, but he could imagine what it would be like to not know where your pet is. He would totally lose it if Bindi ever went missing.

“I feel sorry for her,” Owen said, unsure of anything else to say.

“Yeah, me too,” said Tino. “Keep an eye out for Tunabean, yeah?”

“I will.”

And with that, Owen continued his walk back home. The cat on the poster kept haunting his mind. Those big eyes were something he wouldn’t forget anytime soon. Thanks to said image plastered in his brain, he even started hearing meowing when he got to Andrews Park. It was a soft, fragile meow that had to echo through his brain for a few seconds before he realized it actually came from the bushes he was walking past as he passed through Andrews Park.

Curiously, and kind of feverishly, Owen started to dig into the shrubbery until he found a tiny cat. “Oh, don’t worry, little one. I got you.” He said as he carefully detangled it from the branches. As he held it up to his face, he found the big, round eyes from the poster staring back at him in real life. “Tunabean?” he cooed, and the cat tilted its head ever so slightly.

He stroked the cat’s head and scratched behind her ear before pulling it closer into his chest. She was shivering, but Owen wasn’t sure if it was from the cold or the fear. If she’d been missing for a week, God knows how long she must’ve been stuck in there.

“You hurt, little one?” he mumbled to it as he absentmindedly made his way to the one person he knew could help.

“Owen,” Emmy groaned when she’d opened the door to find him standing on the curb with a pout on his face. “It’s four in the morning, I have to be up in an hour for work.”

“That’s why I’m here,” he said and showed her the cat he had tucked in his jacket to keep it warm. “I found her in the bushes near Andrews Park. Can you check if she’s okay?” Emmy’s eyes darted from the cat to Owen and back. “Please, Emmy? You’re the only one I know could help her out.”

“Come on in,” she sighed, clearly disgruntled at the early wakeup call. But she couldn’t say no to a little kitty in need. She’d been rescuing animals since she was a little girl, she wasn’t going to leave this one in the dust.

Owen placed the cat on the table as it meowed and nudged Owen’s hand with her head. “It’s okay, Tunabean, Emmy here is gonna make sure you’re okay.”

“Tunabean?” Emmy asked as she put on latex gloves.

“Yeah, I think it’s the cat from the missing posters you see all around town?”

Emmy gingerly took the cat in her gloved hands and started her check-up. “Ah, yes! My brother and his buddies took some of them down, thinking they were ‘rebellious’.” She rolled her eyes. “You gonna bring her back?”

“Of course, Tino said the owner was worried sick about her.”

Emmy smiled at this. Owen had always been the compassionate one in their friend group. He’d only act upon things if he was sure it wouldn’t hurt anyone else. Though, sometimes that compassion vanished when they were with their friends and he got a ‘brilliant’ idea, which was most likely kind of dangerous.

“Oh, look,” Emmy whispered as she showed Tunabean’s paw. There was a thorn stuck in the little pad. “Poor thing! Hold her for a second, please? I’m gonna get my tweezers to get it out.” Owen placed a hand on the cat’s stomach, his fingers lightly scratching at the white fur.

Emmy returned with everything she needed, and within a few seconds, Tunabean was freed from the thorn in her paw and back on her feet. She suddenly seemed a lot more peppy than she was before.

“Let’s get you home, yeah?” Owen said as he scooped the kitten back up into his arms, holding it close to his chest. Emmy took her gloves off and scratched the cat’s head.

“Goodbye, Tunabean,” she cooed, earning licks from her rough little tongue. “Ooh, I think I got the girl’s address here somewhere. Tunabean is Anna’s client and we’ve got them in the system.”

As quickly as she’d said it, she’d handed the address over to Owen. After thanking her profusely, Owen went on his way with the cat tucked safely in his jacket for warmth.

He was nervous as it was already five in the morning and the woman most definitely was still asleep. But he didn’t want to keep her in even more suspense and worry about her cat as she already was.

“Hello?” a sleepy voice sounded through the intercom.

“Hi, I’m Owen, I think I got your cat, Tunabean?”

A silence fell, only Tunabean’s sleepy snoring disrupting the peace and quiet of the night. The poor girl had fallen asleep in Owen’s arms. He almost felt sad he had to give her away again.

It took a good minute before the door to the apartment building opened up and a girl in red flannel pj’s opened the door. Her hair was tied up in a messy bun with big strands falling out of it. Though she’d probably rather not be seen like this out in public, Owen thought she looked breathtaking, even in the dim light from the hallway of her corridor and the street lights.

“You really got Tunabean?” she asked as she held onto the door, squishing herself in the small opening she’d granted herself. Owen opened his jacket and carefully showed her the cat who’d woken up from her slumber. “Tunabean!” the girl exclaimed and grabbed the grey pet from the boy’s hands. Their fingers brushed ever so slightly, and though y/n was too busy with her cat, Owen felt it. He felt the spark.

“I would invite you inside for a drink to thank you, but my roommate is still asleep and I don’t want to wake her.” Owen held up his hand, a smile tugging at his lips as he shook his head.

“That’s okay. I don’t need a reward. I’m just glad I could reunite the two of you again,” he said, smiling at the girl and her cat. “Oh! She did have a thorn in her paw though, but my friend is a vet and I took her to her for a check-up before I came here.”

“Aw, poor Bean,” she scratched the cat’s head before turning back to the blonde boy. “Thank you. That’s very considerate of you.” He tipped his head forward, the smile still persistent on his lips.

“Glad I could help,” he repeated, jamming his hands into the pockets of his jacket again. “I’m gonna go though. I’m sure you’d rather go back to sleep right now than talk to a complete stranger on your doorstep.”

“Oh, uhm, okay… Goodbye then? And thank you again for bringing Tunabean back.”

Owen took a few steps backwards as he said, “You’re most welcome. Goodbye, Tunabean and…”

“Y/N.”

“Goodbye Tunabean and y/n.” His eyes lingered on hers for a few more seconds before he turned around to really make his way home now, no distractions.

“Wait! I didn’t catch yours!” she whisper-shouted after him.

He turned again, but kept walking. “Owen,” he said.

“Goodbye, Owen.” She grabbed Tunabean’s paw and waved at him with it, causing a giggle to rake through Owen’s body. With his hand still in his pocket, he waved back.

The more distance he created between them, the bigger his smile became as he thought of her. She was the epitome of a beautiful dream come to life. It made him wonder what she’d look like if she did put effort into her appearance. That could just be the death of him.

After two more hours of sleep, the alarm blaring through her room woke y/n from a beautiful dream with the mysterious blonde boy that rang her doorbell very early in the morning. It caused her to wake up with the thought of him, wondering if she’d ever see him again.

“Morning,” she greeted Jamila when she found her best friend in the living room, gathering all her stuff. “Guess who came home last night!” As if on cue, the little cat pattered across the hardwood floor towards the dark beauty that was Jamila. Her eyes widened as did her smile upon seeing the white-and-grey ragamuffin.

“Bean!” Jamila shrieked as she knelt down to pick the four-legged friend off the floor. “Oh, baby! I missed you!” She peppered the cat with kisses, receiving the kisses back from her tiny pink tongue. “Where’d you find him?”

“Oh, I didn’t. This guy, Owen, did. He brought her back at, like, five in the morning,” y/n explained as she absentmindedly smiled at the thought of those pretty blue-ish eyes.

“And this Owen guy is pretty cute, isn’t he?” Jamila asked upon noticing her best friend’s flustered demeanor. “Did you ask for his number?” Y/N rolled her eyes before she started gathering her things she needed for work.

“It was five in the morning, I had just woken up and I was too busy with Tunabean’s return to even think of that,” she explained, mostly cursing at herself for not asking his number. “Besides, I looked disgusting, I doubt he thought I was the epitome of beauty.”

Jamila simply shook her head, debating against saying any more about it before pressing a kiss to y/n’s cheek and leaving the apartment.

A silence fell over the space, leaving y/n alone with her thoughts. Her beautiful, yet annoying thoughts of the handsome boy at her front door. “He was handsome, wasn’t he, Tunabean?” she asked her cat, who simply tilted her head to the side as she sat in front of y/n on the floor.

Once y/n had gathered her stuff for work today, she said goodbye to Tunabean and left the apartment. She was fumbling around in her handbag to look for her car keys when a vaguely familiar voice made her look up.

The gorgeous blue eyes she’d been dreaming of for two whole hours were staring down at her whilst the plump pink lips curled up into a dreamy smile. “Oh, hey, Owen.”

“I wanted to come and check up on Tunabean,” he carefully said, pointing up at the building she’d just come out of. “You know, see if she’s okay and stuff.” He suddenly seemed nervous. More nervous than he did at five in the morning.

“Uhm, she’s okay, actually. Slept well and seemed very chipper this morning,” y/n reassured him, a smile playing at her lips as her eyes scanned his face. She made sure to make a mental note of every single detail of his face. Like how he stuck his tongue between his teeth as he smiled or how his eyes squinted slightly or the stubble faintly growing on his chin.

“Oh, okay, good. That’s--that’s all, then…” He awkwardly coughed.

Y/N awaited anything else, her eyes darting left and right as they just fumblingly stood on the curb in front of y/n’s apartment. “I-uhm… I have to get to work though, so…” She pointed somewhere behind Owen, indicating she needed to pass him and get going.

“Right!” he said and took a step aside to let her through. She offered him a little wave and a soft ‘bye’ as she passed him. He watched her walk away, cursing at himself for not asking what he really wanted to ask. “Wait!” he yelled, making her stop in her tracks and turn around again with an expectant look on her face. “That’s-that’s not what I wanted to ask. I mean it was, but it wasn’t the only thing I wanted to ask.” He scratched the back of his neck as y/n’s eyes searched for an answer on his face.

Y/N looked at him with a piercing glint in her eyes, urging him to continue.

“Oh, right! Uhm… Would you -- would you maybe wanna go have a drink with me later today? Or something?” Her smile grew wider as she slowly nodded her head in response.

“I’m off at five. Meet me at Gray Owl then,” she told him before turning to walk away.

Owen was left on her curb, wondering if he had died. He thought she looked pretty when she’d just rolled out of bed, but now that she was all dolled up for work, she was the most beautiful person he had ever seen. And that smile. That smile was killer.

She was more than the epitome of a dream come to life. She was beauty and grace. She was a poem and the poet. She was the lyrics and the melody. She was the question and the answer.

Owen grew more and more curious about that girl the more he thought of her. He wanted to know what she liked and what she absolutely hated. He wanted to know how she laughed and how she cried, if she sang whenever her mind wandered. He wanted to know how she liked her eggs in the morning.

Even though he knew curiosity killed the cat, he knew for a fact the cat in this story was just the beginning of something beautiful.

JATP taglist: @hannahhistorian92 @marinettepotterandplagg @thequirkybookaholic @bookdealer5 @tenaciousperfectionunknown @hemmingsness @iainttakingshitfromnobody @ifilwtmfc @angryknightstatesmantrash @kiss-themoongoodbye @rudysbay @thedarkqueenofavalon @caitsymichelle13 @calamitykaty @wiselight @kcd15 @vicesvsvirtuesfanfic @stars-soph @kinda-really-lost @notasofti

Owen taglist: @alexpjoyner

Lemme know if you wanna be on my taglist!

#julie and the phantoms #julie and the himbos #julie and the fat ones #jatp #owen patrick joyner #owen joyner #owen x reader #owen joyner fic #owen x fem!reader #alex jatp

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thoughtfullyyoungduck · 4 years

Text

Birthday

Summary: could you do a hs losers x reader where the readers new to town and hates her bday bc each year her past friends and family had always forgotten or did nothing so when richie finds out her bdays coming up he tells the losers and they all plan a special surprise party and richie saves up and gets her something super special and the losers r all like wow he’s never gotten anyone anything like this b4 so she finds out that he likes her or something so it’s like the best bday she’s ever had

Richie bikes swiftly passed you, faster than he usually does, which can only mean he’s trying to surpass you. You barely refrain from flipping him the bird in public, as you too throw your weight into peddling. It’s no use, Richie is more athletic than you by a long shot, and he’s been practicing with Eddie for track. You’ll never be able to catch up with him with no viable effort.

‘You asshole,’ you yell out to him, noticing an elder woman pledging through her yard too late to stop your exclamation. She regards the both of you with malcontent, stabbing her hark too brutally in the soil of her allotment for it to be a coincidence.

‘Not my fault your short legs can’t reach the peddles.’

You growl, lifting up from your saddle to race faster, but Richie sees you do it and does nothing but laugh.

Any other time you might give him hell for it, but today, you are in no mood to indulge in Richie’s escapades.

It’s your birthday, and while for most that equalizes a fun day stacked with presents and cake, to you it stands for a day full of misery.

Your birthday is cursed. And no, that is not you being dramatic. At your ninth birthday, your cake got slammed into floor, therefor ruing the gift your parents had been working on for weeks, and which was their only present.

At age ten, you fell off your brand new bike into a ravine and had to go to the hospital to get eleven stitches. On your fourteenth birthday, you and your parents got into such a huge fight they send you up to your room and forbad you from sneaking down at any point in the day.

There are more examples to back up your claim for the terrible birthdays, but you have tried to desperately block them all out, so you won’t rehash them.

That’s why your so peeved that Richie is forcing you to the quarry.

‘If you could tell me where I’m supposed to be going to bet u could find a short cut and be there faster than you.’

‘Nice try Dora, I’m not telling you anything. It’s a surprise.’

‘Alright, I get two attempts. If I can’t guess where we’re going, I’ll do your homework for a week.’

‘And if you do guess it?’

‘Then you owe me a favor and no matter for what reason I cash it in, you don’t get to complain.’

‘Fine, bring it miss know it all.’ Richie slows down to slide next to you, the wind picking up as the two of you descend down the mountain. His smile is mischievous and cheeky, probably too confident to think you’ll be able to reckon the spot he has in mind.

If only he knew that you had limited the possibilities to two places, the exact amount of guess you were granted.

‘Hm, are we going to the arcade?’ Your first theory is. Richie doesn’t have anything on him right now, except pennies that have been rinkeling inside his pockets the entire bike ride, the only thing he needs to go to the arcade.

Richie smirks, and shakes his head. ‘Try one my dear, may I say that the odds aren’t in your favor right now?’

His impressive ego in the way he taunts you with the right answer fuels your desire to be right. ‘Are we going to the Barrens?’ You sing, smiling wide as Richie’s shrinks.

‘Eh, no?’ He says, but he sounds petulant. ‘Fuck this shit, what gave it away?’

‘A girl never reveals her secrets’, you say covertly, forgetting momentarily about the agitating day. You suspect that might have been Richie’s intention.

It’s not like the Barrens is such a stretch in the first place, the losers and you have made that place your own, but you do hypothesize that he may have planned something special for you.

Your theory turns out to be true, as you can spot a long table at the end of the dirt path you and Richie are currently riding on to get to the clubhouse. The table is stacked with a variety of candies, your favorite, drinks that are sweet enough to rot your teeth, something Richie should be more aware off - having a dad who is a dentist-, and a giant cake with eight candles on. Each one representing a loser.

You say nothing as you approach, in a sneaky way torturing Richie a bit more before revealing that you’re at the verge of tears of this nice gesture. Richie slows down his speed by dragging his shoes along the dirt, glances darting nervously towards your face.

‘I know you said no parties, but how else was I supposed to show off my rocking dance moves?’

‘Do you mean the moves you make that look like you’re dying?’ Stan chides, him and the rest of the losers rolling up behind you two. They’re all walking next to their bikes, and Bill’s hands are smudges with cake residue he somehow missed while cleaning up. They didn’t want to be here before you and ruin the ‘surprise’, but it’s clear everyone has worked hard to organize this for you.

‘Fuck you Stan the man, the color green doesn’t fit you.’

‘Happy’, Bev grounds out, leveling Richie with one look, the way only Bev can, and then address you. ‘Birthday.’ She hugs you despite you still holding your bike, and you let it clatter to the ground with a loud bang.

‘Thanks Bev.’

‘Happy Birthday’, the other losers also call out, because there’s just too many of them for each to wait their turn.

‘We hope you don’t mind we don’t have any presents, we spend basically all of it getting ingredients for the cake, which we had to redo- twice.’

They don’t offer any other explanation about why the cake had to be remade two times, but by Eddie’s scowl you can fill in the blanks.

‘No, honestly, this is already too much.’ It is too much, but their efforts are so kind and heartwarming that you have to bit back a happy squall. No one has ever bothered to organize anything for your birthday, whether it be purchasing a two dollar present or even ordering a cake, but these people that you had met less then a year ago were willing to scramble together all the money they could, just so they could turn your day special. Thank god for moving to Derry.

For the first time in years, your birthday has brought smiles and laughter, and no tears and weeping moods.

‘Nonsense my dearest young lady, this is but a blip on our radar, a speck of dust on the tv, nothing compared too-‘

‘Can we please cut the cake now? Before something else goes wrong with it?’ Eddie glowers, refuting to wait for an affirmative.

‘Don’t forget the candles,’ Ben says as he follows Eddie to the table. You’re about to join them, when a hand on your wrists stops you.

‘Hey, Y/N? You really don’t mind this right? I know you said you didn’t want anything but I know how nice it is be caught off guard with something like this.’ Richie rubs the back of his head as if that makes him see any less anxious. It’s incredible how smart someone can be while simultaneously also being so dense.

‘Richie’, you say as you smile, unable to hide it any longer. ‘It’s amazing, thank you so much. If there is any way I can repay you I’ll do that. I’m really happy with this.’

‘That’s good, not that I was worried about it, who isn’t a fan of everything I do?’

Rolling your eyes only spurs Richie on, but it’s become an automatic response now, you can’t help but do it.

‘Oh, I almost forgot. I did get you another gift. Two actually, if you count my huge dong as one.’

‘Gross Richie, why do you always have to add something sexual to everything?’

‘It’s my game babe, love it or leave it. Anyway, here is the gift if you want it. If you don’t that’s fine too.’

‘Don’t get all shy on me now Rich’, you tease as your bump your arm into his while grabbing the package. ‘I’ve just gotten used to your antics.’

The package isn’t heavy, but it also isn’t light. It’s wrapped in enough layer that you can’t feel what’s inside of it just by holding it, but that was probably Richie’s intention. That or he is simply horrible at wrapping up.

While you carefully peel off each layer, you begin to speculate on what it could be. It could be a gag gift, but Richie looked sincere, and his eyes behind his glasses are magnified in true anticipation, a gag gift wouldn’t illicit that response.

As soon as the final layer is detached, you gasp, armored by the actual gift. It’s a blue bracelet, covered in butterfly pattering. You once mentioned having a similar one as a kid that you loved but lost one day while playing outside and had been sad about for weeks.

You can’t believe Richie had kept it in his mind, and had gone out to look for it.

‘Richie… I don’t even know what to say right now.’ You exclaim, squeezing the bracelet in your hand tightly, a blush covering your face. Richie’s mimics yours. ‘Thank you’, you say while reaching out to him and kissing him on the cheek. Richie face burns a brighter red.

‘Yeah… glad to be of service.’ His mind is ball parks away, and he is left dazed.

‘Come on Y/N, it’s time for you to blow out the candles.’

You go easily, letting your hand linger around Richie’s, deciding mentally that you’ll do it tonight before you go home. Your birthday has already been better than anything you could have imagined, and maybe it has one more miracle left to give. If Richie says yes to your question about going on a date, then this will truly have been the best birthday you have every had. By the love struck expression Richie is walking around with, you have an inkling as to what his response might be.

You blow out your candles, but you don’t need to make a wish. You already have everything you could possibly want.

----

‘Off course that asshole buys her a gift, but never returns the money I loaned him so long ago. I’m not a fucking bank.’

‘I think it’s cute.’

‘No, Eddie is right, I’m also waiting on my refund.’

‘It’s adorable he bought her something, he really can’t hide his crush anymore.’

#richie tozier #My writing #richie x reader #the losers x reader #it x reader #it imagines #richie tozier x reader

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mandoalorian · 4 years

Note

hi i’d like max x reader where he’s having very stressful day at work like everything that can go wrong does go wrong and the reader is his gf and bc of all this stuff going wrong he forgets that she’s supposed to visit him at work so she comes in and starts talking about her day and how great it was and then he just shoots up and goes to hug her and starts kissing her and playing with her hair and she’s like ??? cause this never happens and he just lays his head on her lap and he rants about his day and she listens and she tries to comfort him as best she can thank u 🥺

Rough Day At Work [Maxwell Lord x Reader]

Author's note: Oh. my god. This is a long one. I write a lot of Maxwell fluff but this one is by far one of my favourites. It's a journey of pure, unadulterated sweetness with a sliver of comedy. And it's set at Christmas— perfect to get you in the festive mood! Reblogs appreciated because this isn't showing up in tags.

Word count: 6.5k

Warnings: food mention, drink mention, brief allusions to sex, Maxwell is ~stressed~.

Rating: PG-13

Masterlist in pinned! Requests open x

Maxwell Lord had his fair share of bad days. Things almost always went wrong in his line of work, but it was almost never his fault. He could always squander up an excuse or find someone else to blame. But today it was one thing after another.

He was late. He had a meeting with the board team first thing but as the Christmas traffic filled the bustling roads of DC, he had already missed the first twenty five minutes of the conference. He practically fell out of the black limo that drove him to work every morning, plodging his feet through the thick layers of snow. It was so deep this morning, the ice cold water seeped through his leather Armani shoes and even through his favourite cashmere socks. The ones with little purple polka dots. He shivered uncomfortably as the clumps of ice sat in between his toes, melting, and so every footstep made an obscene squelching noise. He didn't have the time to fuss around and change his shoes. The bottoms of his tailored pants were dripping. He bolted through the glass revolving doors of Black Gold Cooperative, trailing a pool of water behind him. His receptionist Anna, and his assistant Raquel, stood up abruptly, their eyes widening as they saw their boss in such a hurried frenzy.

"Mr Lord! You have your nine o’ clock meeting and it’s now nine twenty-” Raquel raised her hand and called for him, but he didn't bother to stop in his tracks.

"Yes Raquel, I know!" Maxwell yelled after her, already tapping his feet impatiently as he waited for the elevator. "Cmon, cmon…" he grumbled as it slowly made its way down from the 25th floor to the ground floor.

When Maxwell entered the board meeting, his cheeks were a rosy pink from the cold winter weather. His eyes were glazed and the waves in his dark blonde hair were falling out of place. He had styled it perfectly this morning, the same way he did it every morning. You had even helped him, brushing through his locks when he had hopped out the shower. But now he looked as though he had just run a marathon, breaking out in a cold sweat. He swore if he caught a glimpse of himself in a mirror, he'd have a heart attack. But surely, the day couldn't get any worse. Right? Maxwell had made it to the meeting, albeit late. At least he was there.

Wrong.

"I am so sorry." he scrambled, plopping his briefcase down on the table and slipping past the many occupied chairs. He slumped down in one eventually, pulling out in a notepad and pen. "Bad traffic," he huffed. "Can someone give me the lowdown?"

He eventually looked up to see his company. Twelve older ladies in pink button down dresses and white frilly aprons, their hair tied back into matching low buns. Maxwell froze up, his gaze wandering from woman to woman as it slowly began to sink in.

"Mr Lord…" the woman at the head of the table said cautiously. She looked just as baffled. "It's a pleasure to meet you. I've worked for Black Gold Cooperative for five years now but never did I expect to see you in person."

Maxwell looked back at the other girls who were all nodding in agreement, beaming with excitement. "Uh." He didn't know what to say, but instead, he placed his pen and notepad back into the inside of his suit jacket pocket and stood up. "I think- I think I'm in the wrong meeting." he announced.

"We are the body of staff who are responsible for the cleanliness and hygiene of your company sir. We spend ten hours a day washing and tidying every surface, every inch of this building. We take great care of it." one of the ladies spoke up and Maxwell became even more confused. Although clearly, on a day like this, it didn't take much to confuse him.

"The cleaning staff have meetings in here?" He wondered out loud, immediately regretting the words as soon as they left his lips. He didn't want to come off as rude. "I mean, I'm your employer. Pft, of course I know that you have meetings. And I'm glad you do so. It's good to take direction!" he was doing that motivational voice he used on television, making the 60 year old cleaners swoon with admiration. "I- I should get going but. Uh, yes. Lovely to meet you all."

"Mr Lord!" A lady with ebony hair and crinkles by her eyes stood up, handing Maxwell his briefcase. He nodded appreciatvely and walked to the door where her hand met his arm and stopped him in his tracks. "Could I get your autograph, please? I'm just a huge fan of your infomercials."

Maxwell checked the time on his wristwatch. Almost half an hour late, but he couldn't deny one of his cleaners. Once upon a time he wouldn't have bothered giving them a second glance yet he leaned over the table and signed his name on a sticky note. "What's your name?" he asked.

"Pamela," she beamed brightly.

"Nice to meet you Pamela, have a good day." he pat her shoulder and went open the door when another voice yelled his name.

"Mr Lord!" a woman with white hair stood up, a grin pinned on her face. "I'm Doris," she introduced confidently, but her voice was shaky with her old age. "I remember when your father was on the television. I used to clean for him too, you know? Oh, he was such a lovely gentleman. And you look more and more like him every day. Such a handsome man, you are."

Maxwell stiffened up, his hand grabbing the door handle so hard he was sure his knuckles might've turned white. "Oh," was the only thing that could really leave his lips. He wanted to leave.

"Mr Lord, your father I mean-, every Christmas he'd give little old me a kiss," she recalled, her heart blooming at the memory. "Of course I wasn't old then. I was young. And beautiful."

Maxwell exhaled and nodded his head, unsure of really what to say or where this conversation was going. All he could think about was the board meeting that he was already extremely late for. Maxwell pushed down on the door handle and Doris let out a long dramatic sigh, making Maxwell pause once again to hear what she had to say. "I haven't been kissed like that, by a man as attractive as your father, in years." she sighed longingly, fluttering her eyelashes.

That was when Maxwell realised. He sighed quietly, his eyes scanning the room. All the cleaners were staring at him, expecting him to make his move on poor old Doris. Then, he turned back to Doris and offered her that familiar Hollywood smile. The same smile that the whole world was used to seeing on five o'clock television. He took her hand and brushed a soft kiss over her wrinkled knuckles before gently dropping her hand again. There was no denying the pink blush that coloured her cheeks. The action earned a few squeaks and squeals around the room and while they were all babbling with excitement about what they'd just witnessed happen to their friend Doris, Maxwell took the opportunity to run.

He did finally make it to the meeting. He squeezed past his business associates, trying to locate his chair around the table. In the process, he knocked over a cup of coffee. It spilled all over Maxwell, and one of his colleagues. Maxwell's pale blue suit jacket was now stained with brown espresso, and he knew it would take more than just a few washes to get the stain out. He muttered a small 'sorry' before finding his seat and taking out his notepad and pen. Just as he finished writing the date at the top of his piece of paper, the director of the meeting called it quits and everyone flustered out of the room.

All this had happened and it was only ten in the morning.

Luckily, that was the only meeting of the day and he knew he was going to be spending the rest of the day in his office doing paperwork. That was easy enough. Maxwell padded into his enormous office which took up the entirety of the top floor at Black Gold Cooperative headquarters. He shut the double doors, finding peace in knowing that there was no need for anyone to come in and distract him. Maxwell tugged off his blazer and hung it on the back of a chair. He unclipped his suspenders that held his tailored pants up, and threw them to one side, along with his shoes and soaked socks. He padded into the closet at the back of his office and shuffled out of his pants, changing into some grey sweatpants.

He smiled, beginning to feel warm again. Wearing the sweatpants reminded him of you and it made him feel like he was at home. He remembered a few weeks into your relationship; your surprise when you caught a glimpse of his wardrobe. Not a single piece of casual wear in sight. You wondered if Maxwell Lord had ever known the comfort of sweatpants and so, that afternoon, you went out and bought him a pair. They changed his life. Maxwell would always favour his suits, that's just who he was, but he would love to wear the sweats when he wanted to lounge about in the house.

He was tired. His hair was still damp, the dark blonde waves curling at the nape of his neck and falling out of place every time he tried to remedy it. He still smelled vaguely of espresso, and was still haunted by the interaction of Doris the cleaner. He pursed his lips together into a thin line at the memory of kissing her hand.

Maxwell walked over to his desk and sunk into his chair, holding his head in his hands. Finally some peace.

Until there was a loud knock at the door. Maxwell swung his head back and groaned. "Come in!" he shouted, quickly composing himself for whoever wished to see him. It was his blonde assistant, Raquel.

"Hi sir!" she beamed, waving her free hand and placing a glossy catalogue on the table.

"Raquel." Maxwell nodded politely, sitting up and looking at the catalogue she had positioned before him.

"For the Christmas gala," she explained, flicking open the pages and pointing out different things. She'd carefully highlighted and labelled everything she wanted to show him, making it easier for his conveience. "I was thinking huge black and gold balloons with the company name on. Gold confetti. Banners and streamers hanging from every corner. A buffet, and every table cloth will also have the company's name on, printed in small, glitter ink." Her loud and chatty voice was giving Maxwell a headache.

"Yeah, balloons with Black Gold Cooperative written on really scream ‘Have a Very Merry Capitalist Christmas’." he sighed, slowly looking up at her. She blinked a few times. "Well Raquel?" he quizzed, growing irritable. It wasn't her fault, it's just everything was beginning to build up. She blinked again, dumbfounded by his comment. "Is that what Christmas is about to you?"

"W-what do you mean?" she asked nervously, removing her hand from the catalogue and taking a step back from his desk.

"What about red and green balloons? We'll have a Christmas tree in the ballroom. We could even make it family friendly and hire a Santa Claus for the kids to meet." Maxwell suggested. "And no weird company merchandise."

Raquel blinked, not saying a word. It had never really dawned on Maxwell how much you had changed him. His staff realised practically instantly— from the moment he came into work after the first time you had spent the night, it was like he was a changed man. He held the door open for people, he wished people a good morning. And as your relationship with him developed, you opened up a brand new side to him. He became more affectionate and caring for those around him, a feeling he had shut off from the world for his entire life.

He had never cared for Christmas, never cared as much to host a Christmas gala either. His father died during the festive season and it hadn't been the same without him. His mother didn't do much to celebrate. Maxwell had everything he always wanted; all the new toys and fanciest designer clothes. But it meant nothing to him without his father. Christmas meant nothing to him without love. That's why it all changed when he met you. You finally brought love back into his life, and everything felt whole again. You completed him. You taught him how to enjoy events and celebrate. You taught him happiness but most importantly, you taught a cold and broken man how to love and be loved in return.

The Christmas gala was your idea. One night, around a month ago, you and Maxwell were both lying in bed together. Maxwell had expressed to you that he wanted to do something special for his staff at work. Over the past few years since he had met you, he'd slowly been softening with the people around him. Christmas time was no different and his staff were always jolly to receive a hefty bonus from him. But they didn't expect anything more.

You came up with the idea of a gala, and Maxwell couldn't help but smirk a little when you mentioned it. He knew that your suggestion was deeply rooted into the fact you had always wanted to attend a gala, wear a beautiful dress and have your hair and makeup done. More importantly, you wanted to go to a gala with Maxwell and have him by your side looking as handsome as ever. The prospect excited you so much. With Maxwell, you knew that you wanted for nothing. That he could give you anything and everything. But you would never ask. You wanted him to know that for as long as he was with you, you had everything you needed.

Normally for Maxwell, gala’s were a place for adults only. Bars that served the best alcohol and a place where men who were just as rich as him would meet and schmooze. Before you, gala’s were a fine opportunity for Maxwell to meet a lady and take her home. That's all he enjoyed them for. But you had taught Maxwell that there was more to life than wealth, women and good champagne. He was so sure you'd love the idea of turning the gala into a family friendly party, and he was certain that his employees (the likes of the cleaning staff, for example) would love the ability to bring their families to such a high class event.

"Don't worry Raquel," Maxwell smiled. "Forget about the party planning for now. I know someone who would love to organise the Christmas gala." Today was tough, but everytime he thought about you, he couldn't wipe the grin from his face. He was one lovesick puppy. "Could you bring me a coffee?"

Raquel nodded and picked the catalogue back up, padding out his office without saying another word.

At around twelve o’clock, Maxwell was about to take his lunch break- but the phone on his desk began to ring. "Maxwell Lord." he introduced himself, holding the phone to his ear. It was the CEO of Powergrid Electrics, an electrical company in Rome. Rude and unhinged, the boss man reminded Maxwell of a version of himself that he had left in the past.

Maxwell had almost sealed an amazing deal with the company, but it had seemed that the CEO hadn't received a vital part of the contract. Trying to regulate the anger that was building up inside of him, Maxwell shakily put the phone back on the hook and called his second assistant, Emmerson, into his office.

"It's impossible," Maxwell furrowed his eyebrows together in bewilderment, after explaining the situation. He scrambled amongst the papers that were stacked mountain high on his desk. "I put it in the envelope and had Raquel send it off to Rome last week. I remember… I know I didn't forget. I never forget." he said, trying to sound as composed and confident as possible. There was no mistake in the worried little warble in his voice, though.

Emmerson, Maxwell's second assistant, wasn't sure if he was going to regret his next move. "Sir," his voice was timid and small. Maxwell's eyes snapped up to meet Emmerson's and Emmerson felt his heart rate increase rapidly. Emmerson reached over Maxwell's desk, picking up a folded piece of paper with a sticky note on top that read 'For Raquel: give to Rome'. "Is it possible that this is the missing part of the contract? That maybe, you might have just, forgotten to give it to Raquel?" he said slowly, trying to beat around the bush as much as possible.

Maxwell slowly reached over to the slip of paper, unravelling it like he was scared to see what the contents would reveal. He sighed out loud when he realised he had, in fact, forgotten to give Raquel the document, and there was no one to blame but himself. He ran his fingers through his hair, contemplating what to do next. He didn't want to believe he was out of options. He wasn't one to give up, especially when it came to the sanctity of his business.

"I need you to go to Rome." He said immediately and Emmerson's jaw dropped.

"I- I'm sorry?" Emmerson quizzed, confused and still slightly afraid of how impulsive Maxwell was being. "With all due respect, can't you just call Rome and ask for an extension on the deadline?"

Maxwell scoffed. "Call Rome? I can't just call a country," Emmerson was about to interject to explain that wasn't exactly what he meant but Maxwell didn't allow it. There was something about the way Maxwell's brain worked… he didn't get where he was today from taking the advice of his assistants. "You will go to Rome and give Powergrid Electrics the remaining part of the contract yourself. I trust you."

"But sir-" Emmerson raised a shaky hand.

"Oh, I see, you're worried about accomodation," Maxwell assumed, chuckling lightly. "I'll get you a five star hotel and give you a spending allowance of three hundred euros a day, how does that sound? No need to fret. Hurry along now."

"Mr Lord," Emmerson deadpanned finally, causing Maxwell to look up at his assistant in bewilderment. Emmerson was still afraid of his boss, of course, but he knew he had to stand his ground. "I can't go to Italy."

There were a few beats of silence. "What?" Maxwell questioned. "Don't be ridiculous. It's a free trip of a lifetime. You have an easy job to do. You can spend the rest of the day souvenir shopping. I don't care. Just get the contract delivered." He ordered.

"No." Emmerson put his foot down.

"No?" Maxwell repeated, raising his eyebrows like he was due an explanation.

"Mr Lord, I didn't want to say anything because it seems… you've had a lot going on today. But my girlfriend, Katherine, she's due our baby. See, we're having a son. I'm not sure if you knew… I mean, you probably didn't know. But, I promised Katie- uh, Katherine, that I'd meet her at the hospital after my shift. I wish I could help you sir, I really do. But I love my girlfriend and I've been waiting nine months to meet our son so if you please-"

The old Maxwell Lord would've burned red with rage, firing poor Emmerson on the spot, right then and there. How dare he question Maxwell. How dare he deny Maxwell. How dare he choose his love life, his family over his job. But right now, Maxwell couldn't help the small smile creep upon his lips. He was overjoyed, just wishing Emmerson had told him of the amazing news before now.

"Congratulations," Maxwell said, his voice quiet but his eyes gleaming. "On the addition of your family. That's really great."

Emmerson stood as still as ever, blinking a few times. He waited for Maxwell to snap and finally lose it. He was waiting to get the sack. But nothing. "Uh, thank you, sir." Emmerson replied hesitantly, like he wasn't sure what to expect from Maxwell.

The following few moments of silence, Maxwell spent thinking about you. He thought about how radiant you glowed this morning and how he wished he didn't have to leave your side. You were the love of his life and quite frankly, since meeting you, he understood the priority of choosing love over wealth. He finally had someone he could hold onto during the dead of night, someone to ramble to about his feelings, someone he could kiss and love and cherish forever.

Maxwell Lord finally loved something more than his business and that was you. Emmerson coughed awkwardly, breaking the silence and Maxwell flicked his wrist up, checking the time on his gold Rolex. It was almost twelve thirty.

"Why are you still here?" Maxwell grinned, swinging his hand to point a finger towards the door. "Go! You have a son to meet!"

"Sir, I don't finish until five o’ clock." Emmerson replied, stiffening up.

"No no no! Go home, go see your girlfriend, please." Maxwell stood up and shook his assistants hand. "I have no doubt you'll be an amazing father," he said genuinely. "And I'll have Y/N send over some flowers and a donation after the birth."

"You- you're really letting me off work early?" Emmerson beamed and Maxwell nodded his head enthusiastically. "Oh how can I ever thank you?"

"I hear Maxwell is a popular choice of name for baby boys right now," the CEO charmed and Emmerson let out a small but genuine laugh. "Now go! Tell Katherine I send my love."

"I will do, thank you sir." Emmerson grinned, grabbing his jacket from the coat rack and merrily running out of the office.

Maxwell sunk into the plushness of his leather chair, still unable to escape the smile that played on his lips. He imagined the possibility of you, the love of his life, carrying his child. He thought about how beautiful you would look, how you'd glow, and how he'd simply give up everything to take care of you. Make sure you had everything you needed during your pregnancy. He imagined building the nursery with you and picking out some books on parenting, studying with you so he could ensure that he'd be the best father ever. He'd never wanted kids. In fact he hated the idea of having little mini Maxwell’s running around and causing fuss and torment, but the idea of you raising them alongside him made his heart flutter. He was certain of the unconditional love you’d have for them. Similar to the unconditional love he had for you.

His eyes darted back to the unsent report on his desk and he sighed. Guess I have to call Rome after all. He thought.

Maxwell was counting the minutes until he could go home and see you. He wanted nothing more than to curl up on the sofa with you, the fire on, and watch one of those cheesy Christmas movies you liked so much. He heard the doors to his office open, frustration racing through him as he prepared himself for the next bout of 'things going wrong'. He'd normally yell at someone if they entered his office without knocking but he was so tired. So so tired.

When he saw you, he swore his heart stopped. There you were, his blessing in disguise. His angel. You were wearing your red winter coat and knee high brown boots, and you plopped your purse and a bag on one of the many side tables in his office. You took off your gloves and pulled off your wooly bobble hat, stuffing them lazily in your pocket and offered him a happy smile. He scrambled to his feet, not taking his eyes off you for a second and ran up to you, sweeping you off your feet and spinning you around. You squealed, grabbing onto him for your life and he put you down, pulling you into a tight warm hug.

"You're freezing cold." he grimaced, pulling your hands into the pockets of his grey sweatpants in hope they'd warm up.

"It's snowing again." you whispered happily, smiling into his neck. He was delighted, having you in his arms and being able to smell the familiarity of your shampoo and perfume. He knew for sure now, he was going to be okay.

"I can see." he replied, moving one of his hands up to your face and padding out the pearly snowdrops that were balanced in your hair. "I am so glad to see you sweetheart." he hummed, sending vibrations through your body. You felt your heart blossom in your chest at his sentiment.

"I told you I was coming this morning," you giggled, eventually pulling away from him and taking your arms out of his pockets. You cupped his face and ran your fingers through his dark blonde hair, fixing it as best as you could. "I brought us lunch." you told him, fishing into the bag and bringing out boxes of pastries and cakes. "From that bakery we like."

Maxwell gasped and you looked up at him confused. "Baby, I completely forgot you were coming."

"I hate to say Max but you do look a little disheveled," you folded your arms across your chest and checked out your boyfriend's appearance. "What's with the sweats and… where is your tie and suspenders?" Your eyes met his feet on the floor and they widened almost comically. "Max! Where are your socks and shoes?"

He sighed, shaking his head. "Long story." he took your hand and pulled you over to the couch, pulling you onto his lap. You wrapped your arms around him and he placed a hand on your thigh, pushing under your skirt and rubbing comforting circles into your skin.

"Tell me everything." you replied and he looked up at you with nothing but adoration in his brown eyes.

"Traffic jam on the way to work because of the snowstorm last night, and the streets were so busy with it being so close to Christmas. We couldn't get parked out front so I had to get out of the car and walk through five inches of snow to get into work. I was already late for my meeting. Soaking wet and uncomfortable," you let him ramble on, watching intently at the way his expression would change as he recalled different events in his day. You began to play with his hair, seeing that he was getting flustered at the memory of it all. "I was late for the meeting, I ended up in a whole different meeting. I didn't know the cleaners in this building even had meetings!"

"The cleaners?" you chuckled, shaking your head in disbelief. "You sat in on a meeting with the cleaners?" Maxwell nodded sollemnley and you nudged him playfully. "I love that."

"Well, I didn't. They're all lovely women. But this one cleaner, Doris…" he fumbled around with his fingers. "I ended up kissing her." you pulled away quickly, knotting your eyebrows together. "No! No not like that," Maxwell said quickly, pulling you back onto his lap and wrapping his arm around you. "She's like 90, said she used to work for my father and every Christmas he'd give her a kiss. She'd start talking about how she's never had a kiss from someone as handsome as my father in years. So I gave her a polite one, on her hand. And baby, I ran. As fast as I could, I had to get outta there."

You smiled. "Max, you probably made her day. That was really sweet of you."

He brushed off your comment, taking a dramatic exhale and continuing his story. "Finally got to the meeting, spilled coffee over myself and one of my associates. But by the time I had finally settled, the meeting was over. So I went back to my office and changed out of my wet, cold, coffee stained clothes and sat down. Raquel came in. She was planning the Christmas gala but it all sounded so… corporate. Not what Christmas is about at all," he explained and you nodded in agreement. "Anyways I suggested that we change the gala this year so it's family friendly. In the spirit of Christmas."

"Oh Max!" you beamed, snuggling into his chest. He smiled to himself proudly, knowing that he had made you happy.

"You good with that?" he chuckled, running his fingers through your hair.

"Yes!" you squeaked, pushing yourself back up and giving him a quick kiss on the lips. "I have so many ideas."

"That's great honey," he laughed. "Because I told Raquel to forget about the gala. I figured you could plan it. You're great at stuff like that, and I know how much it means to you. I want the gala to be perfect for my staff and their families, and I trust you more than anyone else in the world."

"I can't wait," you smiled merrily, already weighing up the different ideas you had in your head. "Was Raquel okay with you taking the party planning duty away from her?"

"I think so," Maxwell replied. "She has a lot on her plate, being my assistant and all. It's a busy time of year and I think she'd appreciate having less to do."

"Well, it really does sound like you've had an eventful morning."

"Oh, I'm not finished," Maxwell grimaced and you braved yourself for the impending chaos. "Rome called and told me that the CEO of Powergrid Electrics only received half of the binding contract. So I was going to send Emmerson to Rome because I needed that contract in the hands of the CEO by midnight tonight. But Emmerson told me he couldn't. His girlfriend is having his baby today. A little boy. So I let him go home early."

"Emmerson's going to be a father?" you gasped and Maxwell nodded. "That's so wonderful! I should send him some flowers."

"I already told Emmerson you would." Maxwell grinned.

"Oh a baby boy too! How lovely. We have to go meet the baby when he's born. Please please please." you whined, fluttering your eyelashes.

"Okay darling." Maxwell pressed a kiss into your cheek.

You stood up and brought the bag over to the couch, taking out the little boxes and handing them to Maxwell. You opened them up and started to eat, as you told him how your morning had gone.

"After you went to work, I cleared up and did the dishes that you had left from breakfast. Max, I was soooo tired from last night," you blushed and his mouth twisted into a proud smile. "So I went back to bed and slept for another hour. Then I got up and took a bubble bath. Oh!" you scrambled around in your purse, taking out a fresh Polaroid and showed him it. It was a photograph of his white long haired cat, Lady, with bubbles balancing on her head. "She kept me company while I was in the bath." you smiled and Maxwell laughed.

"She looks so funny with the bubbles on her head." Maxwell took the Polaroid from your fingers and admired the cat. He was never particularly fond about animals, or having pets, but you loved them. In the first year of your relationship, Maxwell asked what you wanted for your birthday. As always, you told him that you didn't want anything materialistic, that he was all you needed. But you did tell him about an animal charity that you were so passionate about. He remembered leaving you at home and telling you that he was simply 'heading out'. He had planned on visiting the charity and making a donation in your name, as part of your birthday present. But he didn't leave the shelter empty handed.

A white fluffy cat with long whiskers and big blue eyes. Her eyes reminded him of sapphires. She mewled and padded towards him, her tail waving happily as she rubbed her cheek on his leg, circling around him. "Ah, she's a darling," the lady who was showing Maxwell around told him. "Unfortunately, she's been here with us longer than any of the other cats. She's not that good around people. But I must admit, she likes you a lot. In fact, I've never seen her so confident around another person before."

Maxwell dropped to his knees and tickled her head. She began purring erratically, rubbing her face along the edges of the rings on his fingers. "Nobody wants her?" Maxwell asked, not taking his eyes from the happy kitty. He picked her up, ignoring the white cat hair that malted onto his suit. She rubbed her soft face against his cheek and sniffed his cologne.

"No." the lady replied sadly. Maxwell smiled.

"I'll take her."

And that night, Maxwell came home with a new addition to the family. You were overjoyed, but no one was happier than little Lady Lord who had found her fur-ever home.

He placed the Polaroid on one of the side tables, promising you he would find a frame for it. "How was your bath darling?" he cooed, pressing his lips along your jaw.

You giggled, nuzzling your head into his shoulder. "Relaxing, lit some candles, done a little reading. After my bath I got dressed and tidied up the bedroom. I turned on the radio and they were playing Christmas songs. Oh! WHAM have just brought out a new one, it's really good. Hmm, me and Lady played for a little while and she let me brush her hair. Jeeves offered to drive me to the bakery but I really wanted to walk in the snow. Get some fresh air. And now I'm here! With you!"

It was safe to say Maxwell's morning was a lot more chaotic, but he was comforted knowing that you had been relaxed while he was going through all the antics.

"Your morning sounded amazing, darling." he kissed your forehead and you felt butterflies erupt in your stomach.

You let his lips brush over your skin, fall down to your nose, and eventually take place on your own lips as he leaned his forehead against yours. You giggled, his hair falling out of place again slightly and tickling you as he kissed you. You pulled him closer, encouraging him to deepen the kiss and laced your fingers in his hair. He pulled away to catch his breath but peppered small yet passionate kisses along your jaw and down your neck.

“You’re being so affectionate,” you smiled, eyes sparkling with love.

“What can I say? I like to kiss you.” Maxwell exhorted and leaned in again, pressing another kiss into your lips. This time he swiped his tongue along the plumpness of your bottom lip, begging for entry. You pulled off him and he moaned. “Whaaat?” He pouted playfully and you rolled your eyes, earnestly laughing at how cute your boyfriend was.

“We shouldn’t do this at work,” you giggled.

“Baby we’ve done a lot worse than just kissing on this sofa, if you remember.” Maxwell charmed and you felt your cheeks heat up as you nodded slowly.

"The highlight of my day though, is being here, with you." you promised.

"Yeah," Maxwell hummed. "Me too."

"I'm proud of you." you said out of the blue, putting your sandwich down and wiping your mouth. Maxwell looked at you, confused. "You've had a bad morning. But you acted so selflessly today. Everything from signing autographs in your office to kissing that old maids hand, giving Raquel less work to do and letting Emmerson be with his girlfriend. You… you surprise me everyday Max. And I fall in love with you more and more everyday."

"I remember when we first met… I would've never dreamed of doing any of this." Maxwell admitted sheepishly.

"I know, I remember," you recalled. "I fell in love with the man you were then, but I somehow think I love you even more now."

And with that, Maxwell pulled you into a kiss. The curve of his nose nudged against yours and his hands pulled you into his lap, knocking the boxes of food onto the floor as you straddled him. "I love you so much." he announced.

Maxwell rarely said I love you's. But that was okay because you knew he loved you from his actions. You knew he loved you from the small kisses he'd give you on a morning, and the way he'd pull you into a hug every evening after work. You knew he loved you from the way he'd shelter you from paparazzi and squeeze your hand tight whenever you felt overwhelmed. Actions spoke louder than words. But coming from Maxwell Lord, hearing those three words struck you like a bolt of lightning. They were just words, but they meant everything to you.

He meant everything to you.

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