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rouge-variant · 2 years

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May i request a one shot for Soulmate Levi college au in Paris ?

Reader is an art student (or whatever you think would fit the best )while Levi is in music course and is a very talented pianist, they meet by accident and find out about their bound as soulmates .

Something fluffy cuz Levi deserves love ❤️

Thanks :)

Absolutely he does!! AHH, I love Soulmates!! My version is a little different but if you want it changed to your idea, let me know! I had so much fun writing this but I apologize for the wait! Thanks for your request and I hope you enjoy!!!

Levi Ackerman x Y/n: Pastels and Pianos

Trigger Warning: Minor mention of Y/n's parents being nonexistent during a flashback. Please keep that in mind while you read.

Boxes scattered the room as you stood by the window. Setting up for your first year of college in Paris! You never thought that your paintbrush and creative mind would get you here, yet here you stood. The view from the window was beautiful and it made your creative juices start to flow. The box with your supplies sat by your bed but there was still much work that needed to be done before next week. But that was next week and this would only take a few hours at max. Organize or paint...the latter was your choice and you quickly set up.

Normally you worked in silence as you had trouble with your hearing. Your parents had told you that it was just the way your body worked but your art mentor told you differently. He was an older man who lived alone at the house at the end of the street. He was weird, even you couldn't deny that but he was also such a caring person too. He caught you drawing on his sidewalk with chalk when you were small and instead of scolding you like other people did, he came out and spent the entire day out there with you. He instantly became something similar to a guardian figure in your life since your parents both worked full time. He told you that you could call him "Grand-père". He laughed at your confusion and translated it for you. He grew up in France and while he taught you your art skills, he taught you french too. You two grew close and he picked up on your hearing troubles as well as the mark on your dominant hand.

"Soulmates often share one major thing in common. Their marks are placed on the same part of their bodies that are used constantly and one out of the five senses is affected by the other's talent until you meet them. You, chérie, must be with someone with musical talent. Find them and you'll be able to hear better" Grand-père explained.

"Just like when I met mon amour. Except my taste was missing, turns out he was a baker. You two would've gotten along perfectly. When you find them, bring them to me. I would love to be the one who'll protect you when I'm gone..."

There was a quiet tune coming from either above or below your room, that pulled you from your thoughts. Because of the hearing issue, you couldn't tell where it was coming from but you heard it. Maybe even a little better compared to normal but you shrugged it off and just chose to listen to it while focusing on the painting in front of you. It was a piano no doubt but it was also playing something you couldn't recognize. The resident building was housing multiple students all of different courses so you assumed that the music was a practice sheet or warm-up before the actual piece. Regardless, it was beautiful and helped with the painting. By the time the sunset, the music was finished as was the painting. You smiled at the work of art before cleaning up and settling into your new home. You missed the music but hopefully, it would be back later.

The man in the room above, stood by the window the same way you did below. He frowned at what would be a beautiful sunset and shut the curtains. What's the point anyways? Unlike everyone else around him, his side effect from his Soulmate Mark, never went away as no one turned out to be his partner. So naturally, he became bitter. He knew that people could get by without meeting their person or even after their partner left. His mother did just fine while raising him on his own. But unlike his mother, Levi became closed off and just chose to let his mark drag him down instead of letting it go, unlike his mother. Was it really that bad to hold onto this childish hope of finding the person of his life? Maybe, maybe not but that was the least of his worries at the moment. The room below him was making so much noise, that it gave him a headache. He hopes that this'll be the last time since he knew that you were probably just getting all settled in. As the noise faded, he looked back down at the mark on his hand. He hated the looks of it, an ugly blub of a slightly darker shade of his skin. His mother was so happy that he had his mark despite him losing his father shortly after he was conceived. She had always told him the wonderful things that happen when you fall in love and it excited him. But that excitement slowly turned into disappointment and anger when it never became a reality which is why he became so closed off. He had school and a career to focus on, not some stupid fairytale and he intended on staying focused on that for the rest of the years he had left in Paris.

Oh, the struggle Levi had with that goal going forward. The next time he went to practice, he swore there was a splotch of what he assumed was white, on his music sheet. He blinked a few times and it slowly faded back into the grey that it normally was. He sighed and dismissed it on his insomnia. You were no better as you heard the music again, it seemed clearer instead of the usual muffled effect that covered up every other noise you've heard. You shook your head and the muffling came back, much to your displeasure but at least the music was still there.

Every time that you and Levi got closer to actually seeing each other, the more the side effect of the mark, faded. It sparked excitement within the two of you but the wave of disappointment was always much larger. You guys occasionally passed each other in the hallways in the large school but because you two never made direct eye contact, the side effect couldn't be lifted. And by the time either of you looked back in the flood of students, the other was nowhere to be seen. So it never fully went away and you both thought that those who wrote up your fate just wanted to get a kick out of you. Halfway into the year, something changed for the better and this time, there was no disappointment.

It was late in the evening and the last of your orange oil pastel was reduced to smears on the page. You had twenty minutes to make it to the store down the street where you knew they sold them. Thankfully the night wasn't too cold so you threw on your runners and bolted out the door. You were halfway to the store when the music you've been hearing started playing again. It was the first song that you ever heard from the mystery person and your body started moving without your permission. There was a music shop just down the street, just a block before your store and as much as you really wanted to finish this piece before tomorrow, you went to see the music store. As you drew closer, you heard the music grow louder and clearer. Your heart skipped a beat as you thought finally you would meet your Soulmate.

Levi sat at the piano in his friend's store and played the melody his mother taught him. Isabel sat on the counter and listened while Farlan leaned against it. This was something the trio had done since last year as they were all studying music together and Farlan worked part-time here. None of them noticed you slowly enter the store and stood by the door after quietly shutting the door. Levi continued playing, his eyes closed in concentration and his bangs falling in front of them. He was beautiful and you smiled softly as the song easily put you to ease. You clutched your side bag tightly as the song became almost perfectly clear after seeing Levi. You wanted to speak to him but the song was far too wonderful to make you even think about interrupting him. So you waited and let yourself get lost in the song. You wanted to have it always playing when you did your art because it already was getting your creative juices flowing. The song ended too soon for your liking and you looked back at the trio.

Levi opened his eyes and bit back a gasp. The piano keys were brighter or darker than they normally were. He made no move which caught Farlan's attention so he confronted his friend.

"Levi? What's wrong?" He asked, not used to his friend's shocked behaviour. Levi shook his head and blinked multiple times but there was no change in the new colours he was seeing.

"There's more colours" Levi muttered quietly. Isabel looked up to see if anyone else snuck in and she caught your eyes.

"Bro! You have a girl watching!!" She cried excitedly and you jumped a little at her loud voice. Levi whipped his head around quickly and finally after two hundred and eighty-five attempts, Levi's steel eyes were pierced by your bright ones and suddenly everything erupted into colour and sound. Your bodies moved you two closer to each other and Levi finally could see the bright unknown colours covering your hand and you were finally able to hear the quieter music that the radio played in the store. Both of you were speechless and Isabel took the opportunity to tease him.

"Levi, this is when you introduce yourself to the beautiful woman in front of you!" She called out with a big grin which turned into a beautiful laugh as Levi's ears and cheeks lit up in a blush. Farlan only smirked watching the scene unfold in front of him.

"Shut it!" Levi barked back before turning back to you and you could see his eyebrows furrow in confusion at the colours on your hands.

"You weren't able to see colour before right?" You asked slowly and Levi nodded in response. He was far too embarrassed and curious to continue talking and you smiled at his flustered state.

"That's ok. Here," you held your hands out better so he could see them and he took them into his hands. "This is blue, green, purple, cyan, green..." As you spoke, his eyes roamed over them and landed on your mark briefly and he turned his hand to match yours so his mark was displayed to you.

"You're my Soulmate...?" Levi asked slowly like if you gave him the answer he wanted, you would fade away and all the colour would fade into nothingness yet again.

"It would appear so, as long as you were the one who played the piano" you giggled as Levi slowly looked back at your face. You were beautiful. His heartbeat quickened at your eyes melted into your smile. He gently dropped your hands and cleared his throat to rid of his flustered state.

"Yes, I am. Would you like to hear more? Since, I'm assuming, you can hear properly now?" Despite the sassy remark he made, you could tell he was happy to show you again. You nodded and grabbed his hand to pull him back to the piano.

Isabel and Farlan's jaws were on the ground as they never thought Levi would ever soften this much around a complete stranger, let her hold his hands despite being covered in oil pastel, or believe in the whole Soulmate thing. Regardless, they were happy that Levi finally felt like this. Hopefully, you could help him in places where they couldn't.

"You still haven't introduced yourself Bro!" Isabel reminded and Levi shot her a weak glare as your laughter filled his ears.

"She's right, I'm Y/n. And you are?" You turned to him again.

"Levi" His voice was heavenly and you blushed upon hearing it.

"A pleasure. Though I wish we met sooner" you smiled again and he nodded.

From that point going forwards, Levi walked you to your morning class and waited for you after your final class of the day. You attended all of his piano recitals and joined him when he went to see Isabel and Farlan at his store. By month four of you two dating, you moved into his room and he was always present when you did your art. He loved them but his favourite one was the one you first did when you moved into the building since you captured the beautiful sight that eventually caused you two to get together.

Music and art, are a perfect pair. Much like you and Levi. Even Grand-père was happy with Levi and knew that he was the perfect man for you after Levi impressed him with his fluent French, much to your surprise as he never spoke to you with it. The two of you only spoke English but now, maybe that might start becoming more common. The wait was defiantly worth it, both you and Levi would agree as you two cuddled on the couch with your painting hanging above the couch.

#levi ackerman fluff #levi ackerman x y/n #aot x reader #levi x you #levi ackerman #levi x reader #aot x y/n #drabbles

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radioactivebowtie · 1 year

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Hey

Uh hi this is Finn here, so I know a lot of people have a lot of things to say. I’ve been reading as many people’s mourning thoughts as I can, but I also knew I would have a lot to say- I don’t even know if I’ll be able to say it all here! I might find some more words to say right after I post this as I usually do.

Inside Job was a silly little show I found last January and fell in love with. It was full of jokes and serious issues as well as some beautiful animation and there was no way I was leaving it alone anytime soon. I made a sona and fought my way through making lore that I could adore and make as show-accurate as possible.

It was hyper fixation at first sight.

After filling a literal folder within my google docs of character interactions and lore and telling as many of my friends about and watching it and re-watching it with them. I reignited my love for tumblr. I ate so much content up the moment that I knew it existed that I tried joining in!

I remember posting Finn on here and then writing character interactions with people sonas while never sharing them because I was so scared that it would be weird. I interacted with Outis first, Willie was cute and had so many fun things I could do it would go great! (I sent it to him and ran away and then like screamed when he said he liked it)

The next time I talked to someone it went better I’d say even if I was equally as terrified. Delaney, Inside Job brought me Delaney. I will never be able to thank them enough for that. Delaney is one of if not my best friends. She wrote me things when I was sad we talked daily despite having met like days before and have continued to do so up till now. She means so fucking much to me, she’s my hot fictional mom! My mon amour! My literal ride or die bestie. If I could say anything to the people of inside job I would tell them how thankful I am for letting me meet Laney.

They also brought me to the shadow council. Well the shadow council of tumblr. A group of people who I think I would kill for? They make me laugh and smile and SOMETIMES CRY BECAUSE I THEY WRITE AND DRAW SOME SAD SHIT SOMETIMES but I love them anyway. They are silly, they make some damn good art and writing and they are some of my most cherished friends. I’ve never been so happy to have friends who share my interests and support me and are so fucking cool. Thank you for accepting me into your ranks and promoting me from assistant to leader with you guys. I love you so much I will never be able to fully explain it.

A lot of people have talked about how the show helped with their mental health, it helped them through rough times and I cannot thank them enough for those same reasons. This was my comfort show, my go to. I talked about it non stop and watched it whenever I was sad, wrote and read about it when I was sad.

I used JR to comfort myself, I didn’t expect him being my dad to become more than a joke. Something that I thought would just make for funny circumstances yknow? But this stupid old crime commiting idiot became so comforting to me- I used him to cope. He wasn’t always written the most canonically but that was never the point. I made him mean something to me. He still and will always be my dad. He will be broken out of jail to me and if I can’t then I will bring him cupcakes to eat during visitation hours.

Reagan actually helped me start looking into an autism diagnosis? I know her having autism isn’t like an uncommon thought amoungst people watching the show but it helped me feel kind of seen. I related to her in a lot of ways and was genuinely moved by her story as well as continually laughing at any joke that she made.

Andre might be the toughest for me to let go of, JR might edge him out but I think Andre might be a close second. This stupid man means so much to me- (he’s so smart I am deflecting don’t let me lie to you) at first I was so ready to just dismiss him as some funny side character. But they wrote him so well- and then they gave us the wedding episode and he hit home. He hit so fucking close to home. He had depth and it hit so close to home that it made me fall for him hook line and sinker. He was funny but he had depth and I felt like he would get me? Like sure we would have a bunch of different experiences but we could help each other out. I’ll miss him so much.

I want to thank inside job for everything, they gave me so much to look forward to and be happy about. It made me feel creative and I was so happy write and draw and figure out how to make my silly little character be in this interesting and wonderful world. Thank you to the wonderful crew for making such an amazing show that brought so many of us together.

and once again, Fuck you Netflix.

#Inside Job #Fuck you Netflix honestly #Thank you for ruining my 2023 #Making the new year go off to an awful start for me and all my loving friends #So once again #fuck you netflix #I hope big mouth loses you any possible investors and someone picks up inside job and makes millions-#-telling the story that you never deserved to tell

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ace-of-sspades · 3 years

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Some Peter Pevensie sketches because I got bored in English again.

#he is one of very few people I will simp for #maybe I’m getting better at marker shading #anyway amour is fun to draw #I tried to draw him as like high king Peter and then lion which and the wardrobe Peter #narnia #my art #art

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moonbeamwritings · 3 years

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Polnareff with a messy haired artist s/o that tends to draw him all the time. Be it in funny comics, quick sketches or in serious illustrations. And if Polnareff asks them why they draw him all the time, their response “why do I need to look outside for something to inspire me when I have a beautiful model right in front of me that does that already?”

i answered something similar here and here with the whole crew, but expanding on it with polnareff seemed like too much fun to pass up!! i hope you enjoy!

polnareff w/ an artist s/o

You lean a little closer to make sure you got the curve of his nose exactly right and Polnareff shoots you a big, dopey grin, trying to lock his lips with yours when you do.

“Polnareff,” you whine, leaning back to bring your pencil down onto the page, “I promised you a kiss once I finished. Just wait a little longer, okay?”

“But chérie, I’ve been waiting for ages.”

You roll your eyes and shoot him a look that screams “You’re acting like a big, fat baby.”

“Hey,” He reaches forward to pinch your cheek between his fingers, furrowing his eyebrows, “don’t look at me like that! Baby, I’m desperate.”

You swat his hand away as you sigh, relenting. You press a quick, fleeting kiss to his lips and point an accusatory finger in his direction, “To hold you over. I don’t want to hear another peep from you while I finish.”

He pouts, but sits back in his chair anyway. Silence falls in the room for a sweet, relaxing moment before he speaks again. “Why do you like to draw me so much anyway? Not that I’m complaining or anything! I’m just curious.”

You tear your eyes away from the drawing to take a long look at the frenchman in front of you, suddenly feeling awkward under his gaze. “I guess you could say you’re my muse. I just go to draw and it seems my pencil always leads me back to you.”

His smile only seems to grow at your words, “Is that your way of telling me I’m handsome, mon amour?”

Pretending to think for a moment, you jokingly tap the end of your pencil against your chin. “Yeah,” you shrug, “I guess it is.”

“That’s it!”

Polnareff is leaping at you in the blink of an eye, holding your head in place so you can’t escape his attack as he peppers your face in a million little kisses. Your stomach hurts from laughing so hard as you try to push him away, movements weak and half-hearted.

“Stop it, I have to finish my drawing,” you wheeze out, narrowly escaping a wet kiss to your forehead.

He finally pulls himself away from you, but keeps his hands on your cheeks, looking at you with that same lovesick expression he always does. You’re sure seeing him like this, flustered and smiling and so irrevocably in love with you, will be enough to keep your sketchbooks full until the end of time.

#moonbeam answers #polnareff x reader #polnareff imagine #jean pierre polnareff x reader #jean pierre polnareff imagine #jjba x reader #jjba imagine #and i apologize for the wait !!

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fallout-drabbles-n-stuff · 3 years

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Can I ask how the romanced companions would react to sole inviting them in while they take a shower? Maybe vise versa where they ask to join the companions? I'm all about romance today baby~!

Cait:

"Took ya long enough, lass/Ladd."

•May have or may not have been waiting around for you to go ahead and ask. I mean come on, she doesn't piddle around the bathroom for nothing.

•Definitely going in there for some "lover's embrace", if you catch my meaning.

Curie:

"Great idea, amour. Would you mind washing my back? I..I still have not completely adjusted to this body and I've found that attempting to scrub behind me can prove to be quite challenging."

•Doesn't really read between the lines.

•Just help the completely inflexible synth wash her back.

Danse:

"To conserve water? Or do you have other intentions, soldier? Step aside, I'll humor you."

•He's totally kidding guys don't worry

•Just to be certain that you intend what he assumes you do- Danse will "test" the waters by giving some soft kisses while washing you off..and well, it all takes off from there.

•Will actually fret about the wasted water later.

Deacon:

"Only if you wash my hair."

•Totally says that just to make you laugh.

•Typical of deacon to initiate sexy times with humor.

Gage:

"Anything for you, boss."

•He practically leaps into the shower. And no, not because he is enthusiastic about bathing. (We all know bathing is completely optional according to Porter anyways)

•Will be absolutely crushed if all you want to do is shower off. Probably will even pout around when you don't look at him.

Hancock:

"Was starting to think you'd never ask."

•Would 100% recommend inviting him in.

•Despite having some nice shower sex as his endgame, he makes sure to draw it out as long as possible. He likes to start off by washing you off, teasing you when he can until you beg him to just get on with it.

•You'll be in there until the water is cold and you're reduced to a writhing mess.

Macready:

"Oh heck yes!"

•Nothing quite excited him more than the thought of a nice shower quickie. Or any kind of quickie really..

•Just think, you get a quickie and a chance to clean his rat self up. Plus Macready is in a really good mood for the rest of the day- hardly any smartass remarks to be heard.

Maxson:

"It would only be fair to the rest of the crew if we conserved water, wouldn't it?"

•You don't even really have to ask- chances are Arthur will just join you anyways.

•He actually thinks it's funny to attempt spooking you by slipping in while you're washing your hair, just to wrap his arms around your waist and capture your mouth in a kiss before you can scream and alert the knights on patrol. (It has happened too many times before and neither of you live it down)

Nick:

"Heh- I'd love to, doll. But I don't think it's a good idea, I'm not exactly waterproof. Don't worry though, I'll be waiting.."

•More or less disappointed he can't humor you. Just one of the downsides of being a Gen 2. Maybe will make him briefly toy with the idea of getting his conscience transferred into a Gen 3 model..but he drops it soon.

•Nonetheless, your invitation's meaning is not lost on him. True to his word, Nick will patiently wait for you to get out of the shower before messing around a bit.

Piper:

"Okay, okay, since you twisted my arm about it."

•she has half a mind to make you beg, just for funsies. However, she can't deny that she's more than excited to join. (She fully expects things to take a fun turn)

•Once she finally decides she'll put an end to your begging, she's all over you.

Preston:

"Don't gotta ask me twice, babe."

•Be it actually showering or getting straight down to "it", Preston is happy to comply with either course of action.

•If you do happen to have some fun though, he'll be more than happy to hold you while you recover and wash you up.

X6-88:

"I was wondering when you would offer."

•Smoothly joins as soon as you prompt him to.

•Tries to not let himself worry about the mildly irradiated water- trying his best to focus on what's in front of him.

•There probably won't be much cleaning going on.

#😉#fallout 4 #light nsft #fallout #paladin danse #fo4 companions #fallout companions #danse #curie #elder maxson #deacon

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fruitcoops · 3 years

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Hey, I’ve started some new medication and along with that came some fun insomnia and your master list is the only thing keeping me together. Could you write something about either one of our lovely coops boys not sleeping and the other comforting. I could really do with some comfort right now. All the love 💕

Oh lovely, that sounds awful! Sending love and good sleep vibes your way <3 This was combined with an ask for some Coops while Remus is still the PT! SW credit goes to @lumosinlove

Tw insomnia

Remus shuffled around for the eighth time in an hour. Sirius barely held down a groan.

“Sorry,” Remus whispered in the darkness, pressing a kiss to his bare shoulder. His voice was heavy with exhaustion, but not a trace of sleep.

Sirius turned on his other side so they were face-to-face and traced Remus’ cheekbone with his thumb in a drowsy attempt at comfort. “How can I help?”

“I don’t know.”

“Tea? Water? Melatonin?”

“Tried it, tried it, and I have to be up early to unload anyway.”

Sirius made a sympathetic noise and nudged their noses together, wrapping him in his arms. “Cuddles?”

“Cuddles are always appreciated,” Remus laughed. They laid in silence for a while, but Sirius didn’t feel his breathing drop into the slow, steady rhythm that he was used to. Remus sighed, and shifted again. “I should just go sleep on the couch.”

“No,” he protested, holding him tighter. “Then I won’t be able to sleep.”

“I feel bad keeping you awake.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“I’m so tired.” Misery laced every word.

“I know, mon amour.”

“And really fuckin’ sore.”

Sirius rubbed his back lightly, wincing at the tight muscles that twitched under his palm. Remus lifted boxes until he ached and got no credit, while they were paid millions to skate in circles all day long. It just wasn’t fair. “I’ll always be your biggest fan,” Sirius murmured.

“What?”

“When people realize how incredible and amazing and hardworking you are, I’ll still be your number one fan.” Remus snorted, but his muscles relaxed a bit more. “I’ll get myself a t-shirt. ‘President of the Remus Lupin Fan Club’.”

”You’re ridiculous.”

“Old news, sweetheart. Old news.”

Remus yawned loud enough his jaw popped and moved them around so he could rest his head on Sirius’ chest, right above his heart. Sirius combed a hand through his hair, drawing a light sigh from him. “Gettin’ sleepy.”

“Good.”

“Might take a while.”

“I don’t mind.” The clock beeped midnight and he shoved down a pang of oh god why did I stay up late before morning practice. He would take any chance he could get to help Remus, whatever that entailed. It was always, always worth the wait.

#remus lupin #sirius black #coops #sweater weather #lumosinlove #my fic #fanfic #insomnia

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jiejie-eonni-onee-sama · 3 years

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Amour à la française...

For the sweet @strudelcreme 🍨🥧🎀

I hope you’ll enjoy the story

In Dordogne, the Basterds had settled in an abandoned house to await orders for their next mission.

But for now, they were all enjoying the beautiful spring days and relaxing.

Sitting on a stump, Aldo watched his team relax: Donny, Utivich, Zimmermann and Omar played cards while Sakowitz read a book in his corner. Hirschberg napped under an apple tree, Kagan smoked his cigarette while drawing in his notebook, and Hicox read the newspaper. As for Hugo and Wicki, they were chatting in their native language.

But someone was missing. Fortunately, she arrived!

"Here I am!"

Aldo turned his head and smiled as he saw (Y/N) (L/N), the only woman in the group, arrive. This young 21-year-old woman was recruited for her spying and code-breaking skills.

If to the Allied secret service she was Agent (L/N), to her fellow soldiers she was (Y/N), their "little fairy."

They all fell in love with her pretty face and her adorable smile. And of course, all the Basterds loved to play the role of her servant knight.

Even Hugo, the most taciturn of the group, would smile in her presence!

But the one who had the biggest crush on the young woman was none other than Lieutenant Raine. Ever since (Y/N) joined their group, the former bootlegger had fallen under the spell of the young spy.

His men had noticed this and loved to tease him about it, especially Donny.

And they knew that (Y/N) was not insensitive to Aldo's charm. According to Utivich, they would make a charming couple if the Lieutenant could find the courage to admit his feelings.

In the meantime, Lieutenant Raine was making a pretence of courting the young woman, and that was fine.

Aldo smiled as the young woman greeted the other Basterds, even surprising Hicox with a kiss on the cheek.

She walked over to Raine and said:

"Here I am again, Lieutenant!"

"Please, (Y/N): I already told ya that ya could call me Aldo. When ya say Lieutenant, I feel like an old jackass!"

"But because ya're old!" shouted Donny, causing his comrades to howl with laughter.

"Shut up, Donowitz!" snapped Raine.

Fortunately for Donny, (Y/N) came to his defence.

"Don't take it the wrong way, Aldo: he was only joking!"

Aldo would have railed against his sergeant, but the pleading look in her eyes made him give in.

He grumbled:

"Well, that'll do for this time, Donowitz. But if ya do it again, ya'll be on night duty for the whole damn week! Do I make myself clear?"

The other Basterds just snickered: all it takes is for (Y/N) to make eyes at the obstinate Aldo Raine to give in.

A little later, the Basterds were eating their provisions around a campfire, chatting happily. While eating a piece of bread, Aldo did not take his eyes off (Y/N). He smiled fondly at the young woman joking with Omar and Hirschberg.

He would never admit it to his men, but he was in love with (Y/N) (L/N). Only, did she feel the same way about him, or did she only appreciate him as a friend?

There was only one way to find out...

The next day.

"Are you sure this is necessary, Lieutenant? I mean, this meeting with French Resistance is a bit suspicious, no?"

"Since I'm telling you, Wicki. Anyway, the Krauts never come around here. Besides, who would suspect a pair in love to be members of the Resistance?"

"Why don't you just say that this mission story is just an excuse to have a date with Miss (Y/N)?" asked Hicox mockingly.

"Shut up, you rosbeef!" snarled Raine.

"He's not entirely wrong, Lieutenant. You'll have to admit that this story is very timely!"

"Stay out of it, Kagan!"

The voice of (Y/N) interrupted this bickering:

"I'm ready!"

As she walked out of the house, all eyes turned to the young woman. She was dressed in a flowery dress and wearing a white hat.

"Damn, girl! You look like an angel!" exclaimed Zimmermann.

"He's right: you are beautiful!" grinned Sakowitz.

"A real beauty queen!" smiled Hugo.

"My dear, you look stunning!" added Archie.

The young woman blushed with pleasure at so many compliments and thanked her companions before turning to Aldo:

"And you, Lieutenant: what do you think?"

"Waddaya want me to say? It's all been said before, doll!"

(Y/N) burst out laughing.

"Are you always this charming with the women you meet?"

The Lieutenant replied with a smirk:

"Nah, only for ya, (Y/N)!"

"If you say so... Well, I think it's time to go. Shall we go?"

"Sure! Well, guys, I'm counting on ya to watch the house! Got it?"

"YES, SIR!" replied the Basterds.

Satisfied, Aldo left for the city with (Y/N) on his arm.

Once their leader had left, Donny asked:

"Well, guys: I don't know about ya, but to me, this dating thing sounds like an excuse to have a quiet date with (Y/N)!"

"I would have been surprised if it wasn't. If you want my opinion, he is going to use this opportunity to confess everything to her!" remarked Wicki.

"What if we were to spy on them? That would be fun!" suggested Hirschberg.

"Why not? It will be a good occupation!" smiled Hicox.

"Let's go, then!" exclaimed Utivich.

They all rushed to the small town where the meeting with the French resistance fighters was supposed to take place. They managed to see Aldo and (Y/N) sitting on the terrace of a small café.

They hid near a bush, right next to Aldo and (Y/N)'s table.

"Well, what would ya like to drink, princess?"

"Well, I'll have a grenadine. I know, it's not very original..."

"Don't worry about it. Don't feel obliged to order something ya don't like when you're with me! As for me, a good scotch won't hurt me!"

"I didn't know he was so gallant!" murmured Utivich.

"I think we're in for a surprise," replied Donny.

Aldo and (Y/N) sipped their drinks in silence before the young woman asked:

"Do you know how long it will be before we meet the French resistance fighters?"

At these words, the lieutenant became a little embarrassed:

"How can I explain this to ya? Well, let's say they won't come now... Nah, I'll be honest: that rendezvous thing was a fake!"

"What?" exclaimed the young spy, surprised.

"It's true: there is no meeting scheduled with the French Resistance."

"But then, why are we here?"

Aldo massaged the back of his neck, blushing a little.

"Well, how shall I put it? I wanted to find an excuse to spend time with ya... away from the others!"

"I knew it!" chuckled Hicox.

For her part, (Y/N) was surprised.

"You want to spend time with me? But why?"

"Because I want to get to know ya better, (Y/N). Ya've been on my team for a year and a half, and everyone else loves ya. But I don't know what ya like, if ya have a family, what your dreams are, and what ya want to do after the war is over!"

He sighed.

"Besides, I can see that you're more comfortable with the guys. When ya talk to me, I feel like you're distancing yourself! Do I scare ya?"

"No, not at all! It's just that you're my superior! So I have to show you some respect!" the young woman answered shyly.

"That's what bothers me, (Y/N): I don't want to be just yer superior anymore. I would like to be someone ya can trust..."

"But I've always trusted you!"

"I know, I know. But I wanted to say that I would like ya to see me as a friend..."

"Yeah! I say he'd like to be more than a friend!" sneered Hirschberg.

"Hush! I'd like to hear the rest of the conversation!" Sakowitz lectured him as he listened carefully.

Meanwhile, (Y/N) and Aldo continued to talk.

"I must admit I'm a bit surprised, Lieutenant..."

"Please, (Y/N): don't call me that anymore. I wish ya would call me by my first name!"

"All right, Aldo. I was saying that I don't understand why we came here: if not to meet resistance fighters, then what are we doing here?"

A little embarrassed, Aldo replied:

"If I chose to come here with ya, it's because I'd like to be able to tell ya some things without the others being there!"

"If only he knew..." quipped Hugo.

"And what do you want to tell me?" asked (Y/N), a little stressed.

"Where to start? First of all, we're all happy to have ya on the team. Your presence alone is enough to cheer us up, and that's great. Secondly... Well, it's not easy to say, but when you're around me, I feel different."

"What do you mean?"

"Whenever ya talk to me or stand next to me, I feel like I have butterflies in my gut. It's a strange feeling, but not unpleasant. And I haven't felt that way in years!"

The young woman smiles shyly.

"You sound like you're in love with me!"

Seeing Aldo's shifty look, (Y/N) understood.

"Wait... Is that so?"

He nodded.

"It's true, I admit it!"

At these words, the other Basterds were overexcited!

"Oh my gosh! He did it!"

"We noticed it, Donny!"

As for (Y/N), she was speechless: so Aldo Raine was in love with her! On the one hand, she was happy to know that the man she secretly loved felt the same way about her. But on the other hand, she was afraid of how the others would react: would they be happy to know that the only woman in the group was the girlfriend of their leader?

These two contradictory feelings were tugging at her mind, and she didn't know what to do.

On the other hand, Aldo was nervous: this silence from (Y/N) stressed him. Did she love him too? Or was he mistaken?

Suddenly he heard the young woman whisper:

"Can we talk about this somewhere else? I wouldn't want the other customers to hear us."

"Okay, let's go!"

The couple left the restaurant and headed for a small park, followed by the other Basterds.

After a few minutes of walking, Aldo and (Y/N) sat down in a shady corner, out of sight. The other Basterds hid behind some bushes and listened to the rest of the conversation.

There was a silence before (Y/N) asked:

"How long have you loved me?"

"Probably since day one. In any case, it does not just talk: I love ya, (Y/N). And I want to be able to survive this fucking war to stay with ya until I've got more air in my lungs! I want ya to be a part of my life if ya'll let me!"

"Well, what a romantic!" laughed Hugo, making his comrades laugh.

For his part, Aldo asked:

"And what do you think of me? Ya can be honest: if ya don't like me, I won't blame ya!"

Biting her lip, (Y/N) muttered:

"To tell the truth... I love you too, Aldo. But I don't know if it's a good thing to be together!"

"Why is that?"

"Well, for one thing, neither you nor I know if we'll make it out of this war alive. Secondly, I'm afraid that if we ever got together, the others might take it badly!"

"The others? Wait, is she talking about us?" asked Omar, surprised.

"Looks like it..." muttered Wicki.

Aldo was intrigued by this answer.

"And why would my guys take it the wrong way?"

"I wasn't thinking of your men in particular, but the other soldiers. But if you want to know, well, they might think I'm getting special treatment. And if anything happened to you, I know they would blame me for it. I couldn't live with the pain of losing you and the weight of my shame!"

Seeing the distress in the young spy's eyes, the American understood how afraid she was of losing everything.

Gently, Aldo put his hand on (Y/N)'s and said:

"Ya know, doll, I'm telling ya all this because I know we'll get out of this war alive. So don't worry about what other people think!"

He smiled:

"Besides, I'm glad to see that ya like me!"

"You are incorrigible!"

"That's what makes me so charming!"

Behind their hiding place, the Basterds were waiting for the outcome!

"Normally, this is when they kiss!" remarked Andy.

"The suspense is at its height, gentlemen!" whispered Hicox.

Aldo and (Y/N) seemed ready to take the plunge.

"I'mma going to speak seriously, (Y/N): it makes me happy to know that ya love me."

"And I'm happy to see that you like me!"

"I don't just only like ya if that makes ya feel better. I truly love ya!"

Leaning towards her, he asked:

"Can I kiss ya?"

"I've been waiting for this..." smiled (Y/N).

Pleased with the answer, Aldo closed the distance between their lips and kissed the young woman fiercely, who responded to the kiss with the same passion.

This moment was extraordinary... until they heard an enthusiastic voice!

"YEEHA! FINALLY!"

"Hirschberg, shut up!" roared the other Basterds.

Recognising the voice of his subordinate, Aldo leapt to his feet and stomped towards the bushes behind him.

He pushed aside the branches and found that his men had followed him.

Annoyed, he ordered sharply:

"Get outta there, right now!"

And under (Y/N)'s surprised eyes, all the Basterds came out of their hiding place.

"Are you all here?"

"Yeah, we didn't want to miss this!" joked Omar before freaking out at his lieutenant's glare.

The latter asked, trying not to get upset:

"May I ask what you're doing here instead of watching the camp?"

They all looked at each other embarrassed before Donny spoke up:

"Well, we all suspected that the whole dating thing was an excuse to have a date with (Y/N). Of course, we wanted to see how you would do..."

He started to giggle.

"And to say the least, you're very cheesy when you want to be!"

"Me, cheesy? Cut the crap, Donowitz!"

"Ooh, come on! Admit it, you're a real softie!" laughed Michael.

The laughter of her companions made (Y/N) want to laugh too, but she tried to calm it down:

"It's not very nice to make fun of your lieutenant, gentlemen. Especially at a time like this!"

"We'll say it's fair game, considering the times he loves to mess with us!" smiled Wicki mischievously.

"Anyway, if it makes you feel better (Y/N): we all accept your love affair with Lieutenant Raine. And if anyone finds anything wrong with it, let him come and tell us to our faces!" declared Utivich.

"Private Utivich is right, my dear: we will defend your honour, don't worry!" added Hicox.

"And if you can calm the lieutenant down, we won't say no!" laughed Hugo.

"Don't start now, Stiglitz! Well, now that ya all know about me and (Y/N), I can say my date is over! C’mon, everybody back to camp, and hurry!"

"Aye, aye, Sergeant Love!" sneered the Basterds.

"Silence!" grumbled Aldo.

On the way back, as the Basterds chatted happily, Aldo and (Y/N) walked behind them, their hands tightly bound.

Suddenly the American leaned over to the young woman and whispered:

"I almost forgot something!"

"What was it?"

"Well, since we're in France, I had to say it the right way: Je t’aime à la folie, (Y/N) (L/N)!"

Amused by this answer, (Y/N) turned to her lover and replied:

"In that case: Je t’aime aussi, Aldo Raine!"

As they headed into uncertain days, Aldo and (Y/N) were sure that, no matter what happened, they would be able to overcome anything as long as they were together...

Thanks for the reading!

I do hope you really enjoyed the story!

Can’t wait to read your reviews!

Take care! 😘😍🥰🌹

#requests #inglourious basterds #aldo raine #brad pitt #emma corrin

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wickedgamesoyaoya · 3 years

Text

Irritation weaved through your limbs, devouring every nerve and cell with no remorse. The only remedy that was available for the virus contaminating your blood sat ahead of you, belittling you with the familiar scent that would tickle your nose whenever the waitress would slip on by. There was a reason you vowed to remain sober for the evening. Ingesting liquor would simply draw out the one emotion you were strategically masking with artificial laughter and twinkling smiles. Your new acquaintances found entertainment in your façade, and they made no inquiry into the truth behind your sarcastic words. For the smile painted across your lips indicated that you were satisfied with their company, they did not have even the slightest inkling of the emotions sickening your core.

Your best friend did, however, catch the tremors in your fingers, and the incessant tapping that sounded underneath the table. Oikawa tried to console you, with exaggerated praise and comedy. The others at the table were consumed by the performance, but your mind would not permit you a moment of peace.

It had been hours since you spoke to your two friends about locating your fiancé. Their silence was uncharacteristic and supplied confirmation that your fiancé did something, or perhaps was going to do something. Something that none of the others would dare to say. This newfound loyalty towards the cook was puzzling to say the least.

But was it really a matter of loyalty…? What could he have done that would compel silence from three of your best friends? Was it that terrible that each of your friends refused to be the bearer of bad news?

With your questions unanswered, the only option was to forget they existed.

Curling your fingers around the stem of the glass, the cold liquid was brought to your lips, earning you cheers from your new friends. The chocolate shavings defeated the bitterness your throat had craved, yet you were thankful for the weight the alcohol had lifted from your shoulders.

One drink turned into two, then three… and then four. When you endeavoured to order a fifth, Oikawa intercepted, swapping your glass with his. Instead of abiding with his request to sober-up, you scooped out an ice cube from the water glass then flicked it at Francisco.

“What was that for?”

“Well, Juliana said you were too hot, so I thought I’d cool you down.” The words were purred out slowly and followed by a half-hearted wink.

“Y/n, you know that’s not how it works.” Oikawa contemplated apologizing on your behalf, but your antics did not seem to phase the model.

“Shh, I don’t wanna hear your voice.” A single finger was pressed against the setter’s mouth, which twitched into a pout. Turning your attention away from him, you pressed yourself against the table edge, then leaned forward, dropping your voice to a whisper. “You guys know my best friends are more loyal to my fiancé than they are to me?”

“Y/n…” Guilt twisted into a dagger that planted directly inside of Oikawa’s heart. He was keeping this secret for you, not for the damn cook. He knew that come tomorrow; the younger Miya’s presence would replace the pain circling your thoughts with happiness. That was all he wanted. Your happiness. But he should have known this would backfire, patience was not your strong suit.

“I don’t think that’s true, y/n. I saw your social media. These guys care a lot about you.” Francisco countered after witnessing the grief in the setter’s eyes. From their limited interaction, the model was able to pick up on certain things – he knew the bond between you and Oikawa ran deeper than any friendship he could claim to have. He was envious of your relationship, really. And he also knew that it was the liquor that prompted your allegations, not the truth.

“Nope,” Popping your P’s, you shook your head. “Only Hajime cares about me. He’s the only one who is loyal to me! Isn’t that right, Tooru?” Both of your eyebrows were provided a taunting lift, but you knew he would never admit to a lie.

“You know it’s not.” The protest was exhaled softly, at this point the correct decision would be to confess where your fiancé was. However, when he opened his mouth to supply you the information, you ripped your gaze away from him then declared your own answer to the question posed.

“No, I don’t. What I do know is that I have a phone call to make.”

As you stepped away from the table, the setter groaned out your name, in hope to stop you. When he realized you would likely refuse to return, he removed a few bills from his wallet then placed it on the table.

“Thanks for inviting us. Sorry, my sweet little y/n gets a little emotional when she drinks. But it’s time we head out anyway.” Despite the worry lines etching into his delicate features, he presented them a departing smile. Juliana practically choked on her drink at the sight.

“No need to apologize to us. We had a good time. I hope things work out between y/n and her fiancé. She really does love him.” Francisco lifted his glass, accompanying the motion with a nod of acknowledgement. To Oikawa’s surprise, there was not even a hint of malice underlying his comments.

“Yeah she sure does.” Laughter spilled from the setter’s lips as he mumbled a repeated farewell. He sincerely hoped that Osamu loved you just as much.

The phone call you were referring to during your dramatic exit was meant for Iwaizumi. With the alcohol amplifying your emotions, you needed the trainer’s soft reassurances. You needed someone in your corner. Yet, your plan did not go unaltered. Battered by the icy breeze roaming the streets, you were stripped of every emotion except one – sorrow.

It should be no surprise that the person you elected to call was no longer Iwaizumi. The number you had dialed went straight to voicemail, though the pre-recorded greeting almost successfully tricked your intoxicated senses. When the beep signalled for you to begin, a deep breath was inhaled to prepare your lungs for the lengthy rant that would commence.

“Let me just say… it is seriously rude that you are ignoring me when you were the one desperate to talk that day. I even tried to keep my promise to Shin… I hate you. I hate you so damn much. I hate that I can’t stop thinking about you... I hate that I can’t stop loving you.” A pause was administered only when the liquid glazing over your eyes completely distorted your vision. Aggressively, you discarded the tears, smudging the mascara coating your eyelashes in the process.

“I hate that I miss your stupid face. It’s the stupidest face ever… I can’t believe you hurt me and then ghosted me! Get the fuck out of here, dude.” To help ease the strain now entering your temples, you pressed your fingers against your forehead in a soothing manner.

“Don’t ask me why I called you dude. I don’t know… But you and I are going to fight. That’s how we’re going to settle this now. No more talking. You better be ready punk, when I see you, it’s on.”

You would have added some additional threats if Oikawa had not snatched the phone out of your grasp, immediately clicking the end button.

“You’ve had a lot of fun this evening, haven’t you? Come on. It’s time to go home.”

Let’s do it again, shall we - sus-kawa

Masterlist - Previous - Next

A/N: lmao that voicemail is going to be a great landing present for osamu.

taglist: @idiot-juice-enthusiast @vicassa @yourstarvic @bringmelily @newfriendjen @hikarichannn @anime-simp @tsukkismamagucci @laughingismorefun @astronomyturtle @shegrewupwithoutafather @hyskoa1998 @deephumandragonperson @pretty-setter-bois @raenebalgaire @sugawarabby @justanotherfangirl2 @keijisworld @90s-belladonna @momoinot @sempiternal-amour @cherryblosom111 @yqshirov @haikyuufairy @volleybloop @bloody-bella @4fterh0urs @seikamuzu @namyari @toaster-stick @coconut-dreamz @roseestuosity @prcttylittlcthing @uzumakioden @nerdynstoned @kenmasgameboy @unstableye @ouijaeater15 @aquariarose @fandomtrashpandasposts @helloalex80 @stfucanunot @envyusshades @cuddlesslut @seijohiseliterambles @meiikuki @cuddlejeongin @tchalameme @ditu-m9 @elianetsantana

Taglist continued in the comments from my personal ❣️

#osamu x reader #osamu smau #osamu x you #osamu scenario #hq osamu #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu smau #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu #osamu miya #miya osamu

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nalgenewhore · 3 years

Text

masterlist - ao3 - day two - day four

<3<3<3

They step out of Elide’s apartment lobby and huddle beneath the awning. Elide looks up at Lorcan and sees her scowling at the sheets of rain that pour.

She sighs through her nose and tugs on the hem of her girlfriend’s coat, looking up at her expectantly. Lorcan’s brow furrows as she looks down at Elide, “What?”

Elide rolls her eyes, “Stop frowning.” Reaching her hand up, she cups Lorcan’s cheek and strokes her thumb over her love’s angular cheekbone, “You know you’re going to get wrinkles, mon amour.”

Lorcan’s stoney expression doesn’t change, but her eyes glitter with something like happiness, “I’ve been frowning my entire life and I’ve never gotten a wrinkle.”

With a huff, Elide crosses her arms over her chest, “Tu m’énerves.”

A slow smile stretches across Lorcan’s mouth, her sharp teeth flashing. She cups Elide’s face between her large hands and brushes her lips against Elide’s, “You bother me too, Lee.” She kisses her girlfriend fully, bumping the tip of her nose into Elide’s, “So fuckin’ much.”

Lorcan pulls away and tracks her eyes across Elide’s face. She pecks the pert tip of her girlfriend’s nose. The freckles on Elide’s cheek shift as she smiles, “Why can’t you ever listen to a thing I say?”

“Because I like bothering you,” Lorcan answers.

Elide laughs and takes her hand, running into the rain. Lorcan is, of course, powerless against her and follows, ducking her head.

Soon, they’re pushing through the doors and smiling at each other, still holding hands. They take their coats up and hang them on the coat rack. The cosy café is decently full. Elide scans for a seat, toying with her girl’s slim fingers.

Lorcan kisses the top of her head, “I’ll get us drinks if you find a seat.”

“D’accord. I want… a London Fog, please,” she said, tipping her head backwards. Elide scrunches her nose up and smiles.

Her girlfriend shares a rare smile with her, “Ok. Anything to eat?”

“Non, je n’ai pas faim, juste mon thé.”

Lorcan nods and they part ways, holding hands until they can’t any longer. She shoves her hands into her hoodie pocket and stands in line, idly eyeing the baked goods and pastries on display.

She sees the brownie, that fudgy, rich, brownie and her stomach grumbles. The line advances quickly and Lorcan steps up to the counter, nodding to Luca, “Boyo.”

“Hey, Lor,” Luca replies, his smile easy and sunny. “What can I get you lovely ladies today?”

Lorcan arches her brow, thinking, I’m hardly a lady. “Uh… I’ll get a latte and a London Fog.” She glances at the brownie, “And that brownie.”

Luca sets up the card machine. “You got it.” The kid serves the brownie on a small plate and slides it across the counter as Lorcan pays and tips.

She takes the plate, nodding again, “Thank you.” Lorcan walks to the end of the counter and waits patiently.

A short wait later, their drinks are put before her. Lorcan picks them up and balances her brownie as she walks towards Elide.

Her girlfriend smiles and takes her London Fog, sweet, smokey steam rising from the cup. Lorcan sits in the velvet wingback chair. It’s her favourite chair, and Elide’s is the lavender cogswell chair beside it.

Elide drinks her tea, and then takes the fork next to the decadent chocolate concoction. Lorcan arches her brow as she watches her thieving love cut a bite with the side of the fork and lift it to her mouth. She moans softly, her eyes closing. Lorcan shifts in her chair and drinks her coffee, blocking out her thoughts.

“Mon amour, c’est si bon." Elide takes another bite and holds it to Lorcan’s lips. Lorcan accepts the bite and looks at her girl in mild shock and betrayal. “What?”

“I asked you if you wanted anything to eat and you literally said ‘no, I’m not hungry, just my tea’. This - that’s my brownie.”

Elide gapes and laughs, “Lorcan, sweetie. It’s one bite. J’veux juste une petite bouchée.”

“You're evil. Should’ve known not to date a witch,” Lorcan says, taking a drink of her coffee to cut through the richness of the dessert.

Elide rolls her eyes and takes two more bites before relenting the plate. Lorcan shakes her head as she finishes the last half in two bites, “Evil.”

Elide huffs and focuses on her tea, flicking Lorcan’s brow. Lorcan catches her fingers and holds them loosely as they finish their drinks. After that they just… talk. Lorcan’s head rolls on the back of the chair. Elide toys with her fingers and talks about her job.

Their friends, Nesryn and Borte, come in for to-go cups, stopping to chat a moment. Borte tells Elide about the new martial art class she’s teaching at the nearby fighting gym.

Elide listens with rapt attention, pulling Lorcan’s hand into her lap. Lorcan watches her girlfriend with slight caution, recognising the eager and determined light in her eyes.

The laid back couple continues on, leaving Elide and Lorcan alone again. “You gonna take that class, princess?”

Elide hums, “Yeah… I want to.”

Lorcan shrugs, closing her eyes, “You should. It’d be fun to watch you beat people up.”

“That’s sick, Lorcan,” Elide frowns.

She shrugs again. “It’d be hot.”

Elide clicks her tongue and silently stares at her resting girlfriend. Her chest starts to constrict her heart and she brushes her lips over Lorcan’s knuckles, “Ma chère?”

“Hmm? What is it, baby?”

She breathes in shakily, “Open your eyes. I have to tell you something.”

One dark, depthless eye cracks open, but Lorcan remains still. “A serious something to tell me?”

A nod.

Lorcan sits up, warily eyeing Elide. “‘kay. What’s up?”

“Je t’adore.” She lifts a brow, not understanding Elide’s language. “Je t’adore, Lorcan.”

“Love, you know I live for you to talk in Blackbeak, but I cannot understand you.”

“J’sais pas- je t’adore. Je- I love you,” Elide says, her pulse racing. “I love you.”

Blankly, Lorcan stares at her, her face so devoid of anything. Nothing, absolutely nothing flashes across her eyes.

Elide nods, “Um… ok. I’m-” she stands up, “I- I forgot that… I have to leave.” She grabs her phone and walks out, grabbing her jacket on her way.

It’s nearly a minute later when Lorcan finally realises what happened. She quickly scrambles to her feet and dashes out, forgetting her jacket.

Lorcan runs in the rain and sees Elide in the road, walking quickly away. “Lee!” she shouts, going after her. “Please, princess, wait a minute.”

Elide reluctantly stands still, but doesn’t turn.

Her girlfriend narrows her eyes and sighs through her nose. “Elide, I- fuck, I’m sorry I froze. I was hit- I’ve dreamed about you saying that to me.”

“Why.”

“Because I love you. I love you, Lee.” Silently, Lorcan begs her Elide to turn around.

Elide does, but her face remains carefully blank, her eyes red-rimmed and watery. She drops her gaze, “You’re just saying that ‘cause you- you don’t want to hurt my feelings.”

“No, I’m not, actually,” Lorcan says, stepping forward and not caring about the rain that’s soaked her hair and shirt. “I love you, princess. I’ve… I’ve loved you for a long time.” Her hands shake slightly and she aches to take Elide in her arms, but she doesn’t dare move forward. “For a really, really long time, ‘lide. And I know you think I’m lying so you aren’t hurt. I would never lie about this, please, believe me.”

“You love me? Tu- tu m’adores? Really?”

“Yes, really.”

Elide smiles and then next thing Lorcan knows, she’s being forced to take a step back as Elide crashes into her, her hands clutching the back of Lorcan’s shirt. Lorcan grins in relief and wraps her arms around Elide, inhaling the expensive, delicate scent of that elderberry and cinnamon that clings to everything Elide owns. “I love you, I love you, I love you,” Elide whispers, her nose tucked against Lorcan’s. She kisses Lorcan, hoping that her kiss says it too.

Slowly, Lorcan lets her down and cups the back of Elide’s head, graceful fingers tangled in onyx hair. “I… love you… so fuckin’ much, Elide Lochan.”

Pulling back, Elide bites her lip and takes Lorcan’s hand, her eyes smouldering. Lorcan looks her up and down, making Elide laugh.

She turns and soon after, they’re stumbling down her hall, too wrapped up in each other. Lorcan’s back hits the door and she slowly, slowly licks into her girlfriend’s mouth as Elide unlocks the front door and it swings open.

Lorcan picks her up, breathing, “I love you.”

Elide hums it back and wraps her legs around Lorcan’s waist. She leans back to drop her jacket to the floor and kisses her way down Lorcan’s strong jaw. Her hands slide over Lorcan’s shoulders and she pauses, drawing away to stare in confusion, “Où est ton… coat?”

Lorcan blinks once and shrugs.

“You forgot it?”

She walks into Elide’s bedroom and drops her onto the bed they didn’t bother making that morning. “I don’t like that jacket anyway.”

Bright laughter bubbles from Elide’s throat and she tips her head back, “T’es folle, mon amour.”

“Mmm, you love me like that.”

“Yes… I really do.”

<3<3<3

translations (french): Mon amour: my love Tu m'énerves: you annoy me D'accord: ok Non, je n'ai pas faim, juste mon thé: no, I'm not hungry, just my tea C'est si bon: it's so good J'veux juste une petite bouchée: I just want a little bite Ma chère: my dear Je t'adore: (romantic) i love you T'es folle: you're crazy

an: french!elide is something me n @ladywitchling came up with 🥰

@ladyverena @ladywitchling @mythicaitt @sassyhobbits @darklesmylove @julemmaes @letstakethedawn @cicada-bones @highladyofthefangirlcourt @darlinminds @nahthanks @sjmships @eyllweambassador @flamingveritas @adelzd-bookblr @somewhatdynamite @woollycat22 @firestarsandseneschals @the-regal-warrior

#femslash february #fem!elorcan #elide x lorcan #elide lochan #fem!lorcan salvaterre #isa writes lesbian shit #nalgenewhore

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buckys-other-punk · 4 years

Text

Insensitive

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader

Summary: Chris has been acting strange on your anniversary.

Word Count: 1.4K

Warnings: Angst, alcohol, cheating, cussing, douchebag Chris, mentions of sex and sex toys, and I think that’s it

A/N: Hello, this is my first Chris Evans fic and you know I had to make it angsty (I feel like angst has become my trademark lol). This has been sitting in my drafts for a while and I feel like this could have passed for a good Ransom fic...too late! 🤔 🤷🏻‍��️ Anyways feedback is very much appreciated and lemme know if you wanna be tagged in my future works. Also ignore any mistakes i’ve made lol this isn’t heavily edited.

Y/N was never a patient person, but she was for the one she loves. It was her 2 year anniversary with her boyfriend, Chris Evans. She picked her favorite elegant dress for the fancy restaurant where Chris had made a reservation. She gave her keys to the valet and walked into the restaurant.

“Hi, I have a reservation under Evans.” Y/N said to the hostess who simply nodded and escorted Y/n to her table. “Thank you.” she smiled and stared at her phone. She was on time like always, unlike Chris who was always fashionably late. Now the waiting game begins.

*5 minutes pass*

She looked over the drink menu and ordered a bottle of wine. I mean might as well if Chris will be paying for it. Y/N looked at her phone for the time contemplating if she should text her boyfriend or not. She opted not to knowing he's probably showering or picking what he would wear. She sighs as her bottle comes and the waiter pours her a glass and gives her breadsticks.

“Would you like to order now miss?” the waiter asks.

“Um, just give me a few more minutes. I’m sure my boyfriend will be here soon.” Y/N replies and the waiter nods leaving her alone. She sips her wine and looks over the dinner menu.

*10 minutes pass*

Alright so now Y/N is getting a bit impatient. She’s on her third glass of wine and second basket of breadsticks. She pulled out her phone and decided this was a perfect time to call her boyfriend.

Ring

It’s Evans. You know what to do.

Beep

“Hey babe. I was just wondering what time you'll be at the restaurant? I wore your favorite dinner dress.” she said with a sultry voice. “If you fucking forgot our anniversary I will murder you. Love you.” she ended the voicemail. She sighed and continued to eat the free breadsticks.

*30 minutes pass*

Y/N’s temper has gone up. She decided to text her boyfriend thinking that her voicemail wasn’t enough to get his attention.

Y/N: Chris, you better be getting fucking ready and out the door by now. I swear if another person looks at me with pity you will rue the day you were born.

Y/N huffed and drank her sixth glass of wine. The bottle was half way full or empty in Y/N’s eyes. The waiter came by growing a bit impatient pointing at her menu. “You know what I’ll order a salad for my appetizer.” Y/N said with a cheeky smile. The waiter nodded and just as he was about to leave Y/N said, “OH! And more breadsticks please.” He turned and gave her a sarcastic smile then walked away. Y/N sighed and continued to drink her wine. The other people around her began to stare at her. “I will kill that man” she said under her breath while scrolling through her phone.

*45 minutes pass*

Still nothing. Y/N’s patience has gone down the drain and is getting a bit annoyed. She finished her salad, another basket of breadsticks and also the entire bottle of wine. She avoided every glance her way and her anxiety began to kick in. “Can I get a coffee please?” she asked the waiter and he nodded. As soon as her coffee arrived her nerves began to go down a bit, but she was still pissed.

*1 hour passes*

Chris: Hey honey, I'm gonna be a little late.

“Little late my ass.” she said. “Wait, what the fuck?” Y/N questioned as she read the text. He never calls me honey. Y/N said to herself and that's when she knew something was up. “Hey, can I get the check?” as told the waiter passing by.

*time jump: Y/N arrives at Chris’ House*

Y/N stepped out of her car and walked towards Chris’ house. Deciding it's probably a better idea to sneak in the back. Walking along the walkway crossing the small pond towards the glass doors. Locked. Luckily Chris’ maid, Mabel, was sweet enough to give you spare keys for the front and back doors. Mabel cared for Chris like her own child and Chris showed her so much respect.

“Bless that woman.” Y/N said to herself while unlocking the door. Walking around the first floor nothing seemed out of place and the lights were on. Y/N walked to the stairs and began to head towards the second floor of the house. Drawing closer to Chris’ bedroom Y/N heard something. Right when she opened the door she saw two figures in the bed naked and having a heavy make out session.

“YOU’VE GOT TO BE FUCKING KIDDING ME!” Y/N yelled, scaring the two. “ARE YOU FUCKNG SERIOUS CHRIS!” the two in the bed stared at you with awe.

“Y/N babe, I can explain.” Chris said, slipping out of the bed fully naked.

“Shut up Evans.” Y/N replied quickly. “Who the fuck are you?” she asked the woman in bed.

“I’m Brittany. Chris’ girlfriend. Who are you?” the girl answered.

“Girlfriend huh? Tell me Brittany, how long have you been with Chris?” you asked her and Chris was about to butt in, but you held a finger up to stop him.

“Four months.” she said, “I’m sorry, who are you again?” she asked Y/N another time.

“Well sweetheart, I’m Chris’ other girlfriend apparently.” you replied staring at you alleged boyfriend. “You know what I can’t fucking believe you would do this. I knew you were an asshole, but seriously four mon-” Y/N was interrupted by a figure came out of the bathroom completely naked like the other two.

“Who’s ready for round 3?” she said holding up various sex toys smiling. Chris remained motionless staring at the scene unfolding.

Y/N stared at the three naked people. “Fuck you Evans. Enjoy your fucking threesome.” she said to him walking out of the bedroom. Chris quickly grabbed his joggers from the floor following Y/N outside.

“Y/N, I can explain.” he grabbed her wrist and she drew it back quickly.

“Alright fucker explain then. Tell me why the fuck you were having a threesome on out anniversary.” Y/N said to him with anger.

“Fuck. It’s our anniversary?” he said, staring at her.

“FUCK YOU DICK!” Y/N yelled walking towards her car. Chris grabbed her wrist again.

“Wait babe, I’m sorry. I knew it was our anniversary. I was kidding. I texted you back right, didn't you see it.” he said

“You’re fucking kidding me right? I waited for you in that restaurant for an hour!!” Y/N said trying to keep your cool.

“I mean our relationship was going so fucking slow.” He replied.

“IS THAT WHY THAT FUCKING BITCH WAS IN BED WITH YOU?! BECAUSE OUR RELATIONSHIP WAS TOO FUCKING SLOW FOR THE GREAT CHRISTOPHER EVANS!!” Y/N yelled at the man shaking her head.

“Well, I mean, I guess it’s good our relationship is over right?” he said peacefully scratching the back of his head staring at you.

You were beyond pissed now. “You wanna know how I figured you were doing something douchey? You fucking called me honey!?” you yelled at him and began walking towards your car. He was hot on your trail.

“Well, that’s what I get for not paying attention while I was fucking those two girls.” he said with a smirk.

Slap

Chris’ cheek was now as red as your hand. “Fuck you Chris.” you said. “I hope you have fun fucking those skanks again and again.”

“I will.” he said quietly, but you heard. As you got to your car, you unlocked your car and pulled something out. Chris was staring at you with a questioning face. “Y/N what are you doing?” he asked you following in your steps getting closer to his expensive car. You got the brick that was in your hand and threw it on the windshield of his Mustang. “Y/N!! WHY THE FUCK DO YOU HAVE A BRICK IN YOUR CAR?!” he yelled walking over to his car staring at it in distress.

“For protection? I don’t fucking know, but I left it there for when you are an even more asshole than usual. Today you drew the line.” you said walking back to your car. Chris watched your departure and looked back at his car.

“HOW THE FUCK AM I SUPPOSED TO EXPLAIN THIS TO THE DEALERSHIP?!” he yelled as you drove off.

A/N: Was that good? lol I love Chris and writing him like this feels wrong, but like i said love me some angst.

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matildashoney · 4 years

Text

Loving You’s the Antidote: Chapter Six

MASTERLIST

MOODBOARD // PREV/IEW(S) // TAG LIST // TAGS // PLAYLIST

TAG LIST: @ihearthemcallingforyou, @cock-a-doodely-doo

WARNING: CHAPTER INCLUDES SEXUAL CONTENT.

talk to me about it! feedback is greatly appreciated!

Sunday Dinner.

One day a week that was designated for the family to gather around – especially now that two out of three of the children have left the nest – and have a nice, home-cooked dinner and dessert and a film that everyone has seen one too many times.

Mom and Dad’s house never changed. Always the same tinted beige on the siding, a gentle baby blue shutter outside every window, the colourful florals filling the boxes on the top floor. Dad wanted the Southern Charm. Mom wanted a taste of Paris. They settled on something near California twang. On the interior, Mom made home. All of the walls decorated with family portraits and your paintings and the photographs that Grandma gave her on her very last visit. All of it – the cracks in the wood, the chips in the paint, crooked frames – was home.

Dad and Brandon are in the living room, Mom outside tending to the garden of vegetables that would begin blooming in the near future, Phoebe in her bedroom talking about something One Direction-related obnoxiously.

Hiding Harry – and the relationship she has with him – away from Phoebe might be the hardest part.

“Hello, hello,” Mom quips as Amelie walks inside, toeing her shoes at the carpet and laying her bag on the makeshift table, the golden trotting to her side to greet her. “Dad’s in the living room with B. Phoebe is upstairs. Have everything almost done!”

Mom is clad in her favourite Sunday Outfit – the necessarily painted jeans, a white blouse, and her favourite slippers that she purchases from a tiny shop in the outskirts of Paris every time she visits home. Her hair is greying ginger, and although she loves it, she refuses to colour it. Makes me feel wise, sweetheart.

“Mama,” Amelie says hesitantly, kissing her cheek, sitting on the chipping barstools – her idea was that every year her children would repaint their barstool, and eventually all the paint would become an eclectic memory – and taking a sliver of the tomato chopped on the cutting board, “j'ai besoin de votre aide pour quelque chose.”

Mama, I need your help with something.

Mom sets the knife down, her palms flat on the counter, her light green eyes staring into her daughter’s. “Qu'est-ce qui ne va pas?”

“Know how I told you that I started seeing someone,” Amelie begins, her heart pounding in her chest, her cheeks flushed with her anxiety and the anticipation. “He’s in Melbourne, right now. He’ll be there for Valentine’s Day.”

“Okay,” Mom urges, her attention moving to the exaggerated shouting in the living room from her husband and eldest.

“I,” she stutters, her palms sweaty and sticking to her jeans, her tongue wetting her chapped lips, “I think I want to go see him.”

“Chéri,” Mom coos, walking around the counter and settling on the stool nearest to her, taking her hands in hers and drawing circles with her thumbs, “qui est ce garçon?”

“His name is Harry,” she murmurs, laying her phone on the counter and showing her their favourite picture from his birthday a week earlier. “He’s on tour.”

Mom’s eyes are wide, fully aware of who Harry is. Her mouth is slightly agape, her hand covering her parted lips as she stares at the picture – Harry kissing Amelie’s cheek, his arms wrapped around her waist, her hands covering her eyes. Her cheeks shade a light pink, her sigh sounding in a tone of awe.

“That’s the Harry from Phoebe’s band, yeah? One Direction,” Mom says quietly, her voice barely above a whisper, ensuring that her youngest wouldn’t hear and interrupt the conversation. “Comment as-tu réussi ce coup, mon amour?”

“No idea, Mama,” she sighs, a smile tugging at her lips as his contact swipes across the screen with a message. “He’s so good to me.”

Good morning, doll. Have fun at family dinner. Call me when you’re home. x

“You love Harry,” Mom smiles, kissing her hair sweetly, standing from the crooked stool and reaching for her laptop, opening the screen and gathering all the information for a flight. “Nona did this for me, especially when Dad flew to North Carolina for that film. Great Grandma did that Nona when she wanted to take the train to Papa in Paris for the weekend.”

“Didn’t know that Nona took a train to Paris for Papa,” Amelie murmurs, typing in the information for the airport that Glenne had given her the day before. “You flew to North Carolina for Dad.”

“Il faut savoir ce que tu veux et aller le chercher, chérie.” Mom pokes her head into the living room, Dad grinning ear to ear to see her, Brandon waving towards her as Daisy nudges at his hand to pet her. “En utilisant la carte de crédit, mon amour.”

“Okay,” Dad hums, standing to give her a kiss. “Guessing by how quiet you are, I shouldn’t say anything to Phoebe or B.”

“Our secret,” Mom smirks, kissing his cheek sweetly. “Doing what Mama asked us to do like they did for us. Giving her a chance.”

“Good.” Dad squeezes her into a hug, Mom melting into him. “Hi, honeybee.”

“Hi, Dad.”

“Oh mon Dieu,” Mom squeaks, rushing to the stove and quieting the heat, ensuring that the meal wouldn’t burn. “All the time.”

“J'ai failli brûler sa cuisine la semaine dernière,” she giggles, shaking your head at the memory. “Not fully burnt down, but I definitely burnt our chicken and ordered us pizza, instead.”

“Happens to the best, and worst, of us.”

“No longer allowed in his kitchen unless I’m supervised,” she laughs, her attention turning to the doorway where her youngest sister stood with her arms crossed and a scowl on her face. “Oh, what’s wrong, Pheebs? You look like someone told you a concert got cancelled.”

“Have a show on Valentine’s Day and Cassie was supposed to livestream and apparently the internet in the arena is being worked on,” Phoebe sighs, hugging her momentarily and settling onto the stool beside her, her eyes squinting suspiciously as she closes her phone and lays it beneath her thigh. “Cancelled going to a party so I could watch with Cass.”

“Can’t you still go to the party? Not like you were uninvited,” she reasons, her heart beginning to beat heavily in her chest with anxiety.

Does Phoebe know already?

“Guess so,” she sighs frustratedly, shaking her head and heaving a breath with annoyance. “I’ll probably stay home and wait for updates, anyways.”

Mom’s eyes meet hers, Have you told her?

Of course not, she mouths, forcing a smile as her younger sister takes the cutlery and sets it along the table.

“God, you’ve gotten weirder since you turned twenty.”

Have to tell her soon, Mom whispers, kissing Phoebe’s hair as she takes the decorated plates and begins laying each on their designated mat – the ones that we painted every year that we needed a new change in the kitchen aura – to accompany the meal.

Know that and I will, she swears, her eyes meeting her younger sister and opening her arms for a hug, smiling as she stalks towards her with a pout on her lips. “I’m sure someone will livestream the show, Pheebs.”

“I’m just annoyed,” she grumbles, leaning her cheek on her sister’s shoulder and having her arms hang loosely around her torso. “Can I be an adult already and get to travel to see all of my favourite shows whenever I want, already?”

“Don’t think that’s how it works,” Amelie hums, stifling her laughter against her hand, her lips tucking into her mouth to mask your smile.

“Harry would probably pay for his girlfriend’s flight to visit him. Niall, too,” she groans. “That is such an unfair thing. There is someone out there that gets to love Harry Styles.”

Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god.

“Enough with the impending doom until after supper, Phoebe,” Mom muses, shaking her head and walking into the living room to tell Dad and B. Her wink towards her telling her that she could see the anxiety on her face, encouraging her to relax.

Having – more or less – hippies as a mother and father, Family Dinner is certainly something other than functional and orderly.

Mom talks about the novel she sent to the editor earlier in the week, one more approval needed to finalise one section of the publication contract. Dad mentions in passing that he has to be at a film set early in the morning for the promotional campaign shoot. Heads turn as Brandon brings up asking Autumn – his girlfriend since the age of thirteen – to marry him. Phoebe complains about not seeing Harry and Niall as soon as she wanted. Congratulations ensued as Amelie mentions that the mural at the bakery is complete and perfected.

I’ll take you to the airport, Mom whispers as Amelie hugs her goodbye. Her petite body wraps tightly around hers, squeezing her tightly. You should tell Phoebe before someone else tells her.

Calling Harry on her way home, her mind is racing with all that her mother said, all that her sister said, all that she has to be done before she leaves in a mere three days.

Harry talks quietly in the background as she readies herself for the night, her hair strung in a towel and one of the band’s tour shirts clinging to her damp skin, her lips coated with her – and his – favourite chapstick. He mentions the flowers that are outside his hotel, how the season is so much brighter than London. He asks about Mom and Dad, Phoebe and Brandon. One day I’ll bring you out here, Harry says.

All that replays in her mind is her mother’s words, and the flight confirmation sitting in her email.

Have to know what you want and get it, honey.

/ / /

“Welcome to Melbourne,” the flight attendant announces on the speaker, the lights slowly beginning to brighten and wake the sleeping guests scattered about the plane. Amelie’s carry on is tucked in the overhead bin, an older gentleman offering to get it for her as she struggled to reach.

If Harry was here, he’d be making fun of you for being too short.

Amelie sinks into Harry’s sweatshirt, smirking at the fact that her father would be seething with her wearing a Greenbay Packers anything. Her fingers quickly type on the screen, Harry’s name with an accompanying picture at the centre.

Need your hotel and room number, please and thank you. Don’t ask questions.

Harry takes a minute to respond and Amelie can see the expression on his face, the furrowed eyebrows and squinted eyes, his bottom lip pulled between his fingertips.

The Langham, Room 702. I’m about to get in the shower. Should I stay out a bit longer?

Her mouth curves into a smile as she notices a bouquet selection near the exit. Her attention immediately goes to the sunflowers and daisies in the corner, paying and quickly making her way outside to meet the security guard that Niall arranged with her.

Give it like twenty minutes.

His response comes immediately, the suspicion evident in his text. He doesn’t question her, simply responding and taking a seat on the unmade bed. He shuts the water in the shower, heaving a breath and sinking into the mattress, trying to think through everything.

Alright.

Laying there is unbearable, Harry standing up and beginning to pace around his bedroom nervously. He can’t quite grasp the idea of her coming to Melbourne. That would be simply impossible with university and the artwork projects and family dinners.

That would be impossible, wouldn’t it?

Although unlikely, twenty minutes felt like hours. Harry wasn’t a patient person. He became bored easily and the idea of having to wait for something his girlfriend was surprising him with, and being without a single idea, gave him a headache.

His ears perk to the knocking on his suite door, quiet chatter outside, his feet padding against the carpet and his hands yanking a stray shirt over his naked torso. His chest deflates at the sight of Niall holding a bouquet of sunflowers and daisies – certainly from her.

“How–”

“Quite the selection they have at the airport,” Amelie squeaks, laying her miniature knapsack against the wall and smiling, her arms wrapping around his shoulders as his arms circle her waist, squeezing her into him as tightly as physically possible. “Harry, I can’t breathe.”

“Bye, you two,” Niall smirks, handing Harry the bouquet and turning to return to his suite.

Harry chuckles, releasing his grip on her slightly, taking the bouquet from his friend and nudging her bag inside with his foot, his arm continuing to stay wrapped around her and hugging her to his chest. “Sorry, I’ve just missed you.”

“Missed you, too,” she whispers, closing the door behind her, his cheeks taken in her hands, her lips moulding to his and soaking in his kiss, the bouquet set on the nearby table, his fingertips gripping her hips. “Glad you didn’t shower and leave me out there.”

“Would never do that to you,” he smirks, his thumbs tracing her bottom lip, stealing a kiss innocently. “Can’t believe you’re here.”

“One very long flight later,” she smirks, kissing his cheek and jaw sweetly, her arms squeezing him tighter in her embrace. “Good thing I sleep on planes.”

“Forty fucking hours, love,” Harry whispers, gently nudging her cheek, his mouth moulding onto hers and savouring the way she kisses him.

Amelie smiles against his lips, obsessed with the way his reaction made her heart swell against her chest and heat radiate on her skin. “Considering I can wake up with you on Valentine’s Day, it’ll be worth it.”

“Tell me you didn’t bring that knapsack and that’s it.”

“Had to check into m’room and shower, first,” she says, lightly tugging on the curls and kissing the vein in his neck, smiling at his moan as her lips touch the centre and nip at his skin. “All of m’stuff is there.”

“You’re not staying in another room,” Harry breathes shakily, his hands travelling across her hips and squeezing her bum. “You’ll stay with your boyfriend.”

“Know that but I needed to get here without you finding out,” she smirks, a heavy breath leaving her lips as his mouth begins mapping kisses along her neck, biting into the skin and marking her, their bodies walking backwards into the bedroom, his hands gently nudging her against the wall.

“Must’ve cost loads,” Harry mutters, his lips sweetly kissing her jaw. “You’re not allowed to buy another plane ticket to see me. I’ll get it.”

“Can thank Mom for me being here,” Amelie sighs, adoring the feeling of his mouth on her, the way his fingertips dig into her hips, holding her tightly to him. “Bought m’flight and all that. Came from a whole story about women in m’family travelling for their men. Apparently, it’s a thing they do. Take chances on nice guys, and all that.”

“Oh,” Harry smirks cockily at that, his teeth dragging her bottom lip as he kisses her hungrily, the briefs beginning to feel all too tight against his cock and tensing thighs. “’m a nice guy to take a chance on, then?”

“Think so,” Amelie moans, her eyelashes laying against her cheeks, all her thoughts hyper-focused on Harry’s hands trailing beneath her – his – sweatshirt, his thumbs tracing over the curves of her breasts. “Can feel you trying to distract me about the flight.”

“Give up on paying for your next flight,” Harry says sternly, silently praising the way there wasn’t a lacy bralette to get in his way. “Quicker you do that, quicker you’ll have the best shag of your life on that unmade bed, over there.”

“Fine.”

“My sweatshirt, hm?” Harry smirks, gently taking the material and tossing it onto the carpet, the cotton leggings adoring her hips rubbing uncomfortably against his hips. Her lips suck at the skin on his collarbone, the skin bright red and adorning a temporary mark.

“You left it,” Amelie mutters against him. Her thighs tense at the feeling of his fingertips ghosting across the lace waistband of her panties, his thumbs tucked into the material and dragging it slightly. “Harry.”

“Did it on purpose.” Harry nudges Amelie against the mattress, her cheeks flushing as his eyes travel along her body, taking in every inch of her figure, the curves and the tattoos and the lines that make her. “Up,” he murmurs, smiling as she lifts her hips and her panties accompany the clothing on the ground.

Harry kisses her inner thighs sweetly, coaxing her to relax with his touch. He gently massages her hips, smiling against her skin as she breathes out an airy moan, her fingertips curling through his hair, his arms tucked under her bum to have her core meet his mouth. He lays his tongue against her heat, savouring the way she tastes so sweet, his lips suckling on her clit the way she loves.

Amelie’s moans spur him further, the moans vibrating against her making the orgasm overwhelm her senses. His fingertips tease her heat, gently inching into her and curling against the velvet walls that squeeze him, the sucking against the nerves between her thighs having her chase her orgasm with white vision and moans.

His tongue continues to lay on her heat, taking her orgasm and humming with the taste, his fingertips between his lips to have all of her. His smirk is enough to make her squeeze her thighs together, the way he is so happy to please her making her want to have him again and again and again. He sponges kisses along her inked thighs and belly, teasingly biting her nipples as his mouth works his way back to hers.

“Get on the bed,” Amelie tells him, her jaw clenched as Harry smirks and tosses the remaining clothes on his torso. “Don’t smirk at me like that.”

“Not doing anything,” Harry smirks, his cheeks tinging pink as Amelie manoeuvres around him and settles between his thighs. “Gon’a kill me looking at me like that.”

Her fingertips ghost across his thighs, her lips touching his skin, smirking against him as his hand gently takes her hair away from her face. Her tongue wets her skin, her hand gently wrapping around his cock, her thumb spreading the arousal around his shaft, his breathy moans echoing around her.

Amelie slowly eases over him, hollowing her cheeks and sucking, her tongue swirling around his throbbing tip the way he loves, her hand pumping all that she couldn’t take. Her fingertips squeeze his hip, his arousal and orgasm beginning to taste on her tongue.

“God, this is so much better than me trying to pretend it’s you,” Harry moans, his head rolling onto the pillow as her innocent eyes meet his.

“Oh, baby, you think about me,” Amelie hums, the vibrations making his hips ache and thrust into her mouth.

Harry groans as she takes all of him, his cock hitting her throat and her tongue taking his arousal. “Certainly, don’t think about m’hand.” His orgasm is reaching him quickly, his panting rapid and causing his chest to heave. “Need to be in you, doll.”

Amelie smirks, kissing the inked thigh and laying her lips across his heated skin. Harry squeezes her hips above his waist, making her pause, her breathing shaky as she realises what he’s implying. “Are you sure? Don’t wan’a hurt you.”

“Love, I promise you won’t,” Harry says shakily, moving beneath her and laying his back against the wooden headboard, his lip taken between his teeth as she gently settles on his thighs. “Go slow, I’ve got you.”

Amelie nods nervously, smiling shyly as Harry squeezes her thigh encouragingly. His hands hold her hips, coaxing her forward slightly, his cock hard and throbbing against her heat. He nudges her to lean onto her knees, his skin prickling with bumps as he gently eases into her, her warmth surrounding his shaft and squeezing him in her velvet walls.

Amelie intertwines her fingers with his, her pelvis rolling and grinding, his knees tucked behind her, his hips thrusting to meet her. Her mouth parts with her moans, the friction against the nerves between her thighs making her legs shake. Harry leans forward, his lips sponging kisses along her jaw, suckling a mark on her chest. His hands take her hips, smiling as her arms circle around his shoulders, her nails digging into his skin. His thrusts meet a rhythm with the way her hips beginning rotating, a heavy moan leaving his throat as she squeezes him, easing him out inch by inch.

“Want you deeper,” Amelie moans, meeting his mouth with a chaste kiss, his knees parting her thighs, his figure laying over hers.

Harry sinks into her, her warmth soaking him in, squeezing him tightly. He kisses her jaw, her thighs wrapped around his waist, his cock bottoming out and reaching her hit with every thrust. His orgasm is heating in his stomach, sweat sticking the curls to his forehead, her moans in his ear making him want to bust. Her thighs squeeze around his hips, holding him in her, her climax warm and milking around him. His orgasm spills inside her, his panting hot against her neck. His mouth breaks into a smile as her hands take his cheeks and her lips kiss his sweetly, her ankles slowly unlocking around his bum and laying lazily on the bed.

“Good, you’re so good,” Harry hums, gently sliding out and lying beside her. His arm slings over her waist, pulling her into his chest, his cheek laying against her shoulder. “Have you spoken to your mum since you got here?”

“Oh fuck,” Amelie swears, snagging her sweatshirt and tugging it over her torso, pulling her phone out and sending messages to her mother and best friend. “Done.”

“Care to leave the pants off for the evening,” Harry winks, laughing loudly as Amelie rolls her eyes at him. He takes his phone, smirking and beginning to type against his screen, hiding the phone away from her obnoxiously.

Laying her head on his chest, she presses a kiss to the butterfly adorning his abdomen, her cheek resting on her forearms. “What are you doing?”

“Making a list of all the places I want to shag you in.”

“God, you’re annoying.”

“That wasn’t telling me to quit.” Harry grabs her cheeks and kisses her, smirking at the way her lips perfectly adorn his at every angle. “Got to check off Aus, thank you for that.”

Amelie hides her face in her hands, trying to mask the smile that is etched into her features. Only a few weeks ago she was telling him that she couldn’t understand why he stared at her in such a way, and now she can feel herself doing the same. “Have any plans for Valentine’s Day, Mr Styles?”

“Considering m’girlfriend is here,” he hums, carding his fingers through her hair and delicately brushing the stray hairs away from her forehead, her fringe freshly cut and swaying beneath her eyebrows, her lips tinted red with the kisses. “Have a few thoughts in mind.”

“Dirty thoughts, I’m assuming.”

“Could be,” he drawls teasingly, his eyes narrowing at her as she pinches his hip. “Have a show on Valentine’s Day, so could we makeshift tomorrow to be our Valentine’s Day? Have breakfast and an early swim, avoid all the crowds. Only us.” His eyes brighten with her smile. Harry loves seeing Amelie happy. “Can plan something special for dinner, later on.”

“Good thing I brought something nice to wear," Amelie smiles, heaving a sigh as she straddles Harry’s thighs and slips off the bed, giggling at his groans and complaint of her leaving. “Have a dress for tomorrow.”

“Ooh,” Harry hums, following her into the bathroom and leaning against the wall, admiring away she mills about the space, gathering her toiletries and pyjamas for the night. “Haven’t seen you in a dress before.”

“Only on special occasions.”

“Love that you consider me a special occasion,” he says, walking towards her as she turns the water on in the porcelain bath, testing the temperature with her fingers. He wraps his arms around her waist, kissing the sweet spot at the nape of her neck, smirking against her skin as she shivers. “What are you doing?”

“Need a bath, I’m sticky.” Her words spew out without thinking and her eyes roll as soon as she feels Harry’s smirk against her skin. “Harry, don’t you dare say something.”

“Didn’t say a word, doll.” He kisses her shoulder, releasing her from his grasp and walking to the shower, the water sputtering against the glass. “Want to take a shower with me? Warm in there.”

“Having you as a distraction in there? No thank you.”

“And you think I won’t distract you in the bathtub,” Harry scoffs, shaking his head and clicking his tongue, walking to the tub and turning off the faucet, taking her hand in his and smirking as she reluctantly walks with him. “Think very highly of me, love.”

“Hope to have a minute of peace, in here, that’s all,” Amelie moans, her eyelashes fluttering against her cheeks as he kisses her cheek, patting her bum to get into the shower.

“Not gon’a happen,” he chuckles, shutting the door as he steps inside. He smiles widely, taking in the way the water falls over her and her fringe clings to her forehead. They’ve not showered together before, only staying in the bathroom while the other bathed, and there was something intimate about the experience and the way Amelie trusts him enough to do so. “Did you have a nice flight, at least? Layover somewhere, I’m assuming,” he says, taking the shampoo and squirting the liquid into her hand.

“Mhm,” she hums, lathering her hair and soaking in the warmth around them. Harry is the first man she’s ever showered with, and the thought about how much she truly trusted him made her anxiety heighten. Begging her brain to quiet down, she asks the thoughts to leave her alone and have her enjoy the moment. “Slept everywhere I could.”

“Knowing you,” Harry winks, nudging Amelie’s hip and rinsing the soap smoothly, his eyes drifting across her body as her sponge coats her skin with bubbles, “that sounds about right.”

“Brought a bathing suit with me,” Amelie mutters, playfully pushing his chest to move under the water. “Only go to the beach a few times a year so you better take your opportunity to see me in a swimsuit and run with it.”

“Happily.” He kisses her cheek, stepping out of the shower and wrapping a towel around his waist, grabbing a new one for her from the stack near the sink. He admires her as she wraps the cotton around her figure, her hair clinging to her skin, her face slightly flushed from the heat. He tugs her into a hug, smiling as she wraps her arms around him. He’s learnt that she loves the unexpected hugs, the affection that is genuine and means something to the other person. His nose smells her hair, the scent that he could only describe as her lingering in the air. “Ooh, you smell good.”

“Compliment central, over here,” she smirks, kissing his shoulder and squeezing his hips. Amelie presses her lips to his cheeks to compensate for the lack of touch, his lips pouting as she shuffles into the bedroom to grab the sweatshirt and panties from her knapsack, her towel strung around her hair to dry.

“Can’t help a crush, love,” Harry says, yanking a pair of sweatpants up his legs, the waistband low on his hips and displaying the ferns that she loved to trace. “Huge one at that, doll.”

“Hm,” Amelie hums, taking her hairbrush out and beginning to comb through the ends. “You’re staring.”

“Le’ me brush your hair,” he says, coaxing the brush and nodding towards the mattress with messy sheets and a duvet. They couldn’t be bothered to make a mess beneath the comforter, too caught up in the moment. He smiles at her, taking in the way she situates herself between his thighs as he centres himself on the bed. “I’ll be gentle.”

“Okay,” she agrees, tilting her head back and smiling, her heart swelling in her chest as he gently kisses her lips, her nose, her forehead. “Hi.”

“Hi, love.” Harry turns on the television, delicately combing through her wet hair and soaking in the simplicity and intimacy of the moment. He never envisioned himself the kind to desire the moments like these, the ones that were simply him and the one he adores – loves – taking in the silence around them. “You look beautiful.”

“Currently in pyjamas,” Amelie says, shocked in the way that Harry could be so easily impressed by the simplest of things.

“Okay, and,” he says, setting the hairbrush on the bedside table and running his fingers through her hair, smirking as he notices her closed eyes and parted lips. He kisses her cheek, his thumb drawing a line along her jaw. “Don’t nod off when ’m talking to you, you cheeky thing. You’re gon’a kill m’ego."

Amelie squeezes his knee, barely opening her eyes to meet his stare. The way Harry looks at her makes her want to melt. No one has ever looked at her like that. “Your voice is soothing; I like listening to you.”

“Can read to you if you wanted,” Harry offers, moving his arm to have her manoeuvre onto her side, her hair tucked into the hood of the sweatshirt as she shares his pillow. Amelie isn’t a fan of cuddling at night, especially when she’s feeling far away, but she never strays too far. “’m halfway through your book.”

“Are you? How are you feeling about it?” she wonders curiously, her voice quieting as she begins to drift to sleep. “Careful, this is my favourite book you’re about to bash.”

“Like it,” Harry assures her. “Quite fitting with your fucked-up romance theme you go for.” He chuckles quietly as her chest heaves with heavy breaths. “Are you going to fall asleep while I read to you?”

“Most likely,” Amelie murmurs, taking his hand and squeezing it, kissing his palm sweetly before letting go, her hands tucking under her cheek as she snuggles beneath the duvet. “Goodnight, baby.”

“Night, love.”

Harry opens the novel besides the bed, the cracked spine folding beneath his fingertips. He opens to the bookmarked page, smiling as a highlighted quote catches his eye.

“And then she kisses me. It's the kind of kiss that makes me lose track of everything, and so it may take hours or minutes by the time we break apart.”

Harry admires the waves crashing ashore, the sun shining brightly in the sky, the golden hue tanning their skin as they lay peacefully and privately on their towels. He found the perfect spot – so he believes – away from the suspecting and invading eye, secluded and private to allow them to simply be alone. Amelie lays beside him, her sunglasses tucked on her nose, her cheek resting on her forearms as she stares at him, taking in the olive tone and tinted tattoos.

“Could you put more sunscreen on me, baby?” Amelie questions, handing him the bottle and smiling as the top clicks open.

“Mhm,” Harry hums, squirting the cream in his hands and beginning to rub it into her skin. His hands go beneath the band, his fingers searching for a clasp to unhook. “Can’t unclasp the top, love.”

“Not meant to,” she smirks, shaking her head and clicking her tongue disapprovingly as his bottom lip juts into a pout. “Know you, Styles. Knew what you were going to do.”

“I am insulted, love.” His voice feigns his innocence, the glimmer in his clearly displaying his true intentions. “How dare you think so lowly of me!”

“Mhm,” Amelie muses, playfully smacking his thigh as his hands travel closer to her bum. “Hands above the waist in public.”

“Have to ruin our makeshift Valentine’s Day, huh.”

“You got laid two hours ago! How am I ruining Valentine’s Day?”

“Wan’a see your boobies,” Harry mutters, gently tugging at the edge of the bathing suit, his lips tucked together to stifle the laughter.

“Harry, boobies, really?” Amelie groans, nudging his hand away from her chest, rotating her head slightly to stare at him. “Are you thirteen?”

“Find that saying, ‘wan’a see your tits’ is quite crude to your girlfriend, so,” he muses, smacking her bum playfully as he stands on his feet, his toes tucked in the sand, his hair shaking out on her freshly coated skin. “Okay, I’m going for a swim. Have fun without me.”

“You’re unbearable,” she grumbles, trying to hide her smirk through a bitten lip, her heart sinking as he begins to walk away. “Wait.”

“Hm,” Harry hums, turning around and walking back to her, leaning down to meet her.

“Kiss?”

“Always,” he smiles, kissing her lightly, her strawberry chapstick lingering on his skin.

She admires him as he treads into the water, the clarity of the water exhibiting the tattoos that marked his skin, the way his eyes reflected through the sun. Her forehead lines with sweat, her body begging to have the relief of the cool water around her. She hesitates though, the idea of showing her body so freely intimidating and making her question her apparel choice. Harry looks perfect in the infamous yellow trunks, the colour bright on his skin and simply great on him.

Her eyes couldn’t leave him.

“Come in here, Ames,” Harry calls, his eyes travelling around the area to make sure attention wasn’t called on them. He didn’t want her to be intimidated by a crowd and the rumours and headlines that were bound to come about. He lowers his voice, his words only travelling to where she could hear. “Water is so lovely.”

“Fine, fine,” Amelie concedes, standing up and beginning to walk towards the water, shaking her head and hiding her face in her hands as he whistles. He would never whistle at a woman; however, it was apparent that her confidence was weary. He would do anything to make her feel like the most confident woman. “Ames, hm.”

“Ames,” he says confidently, taking her hand and bringing her to him, her arms wrapping around his shoulders, his hands holding her waist tightly. “You like it?”

“Never had a nickname before,” she mentions, pursing her lips as she traces through her memories and searching for anything that her family or friends might have called her beyond her name. “Only nicknames m’family has given me are honeybee and chéri.”

“Honeybee for the flowers, right?” Harry asks this for confirmation, the way he pays attention to every detail Amelie tells him, butterflies swirling in her belly at the thought. “And the other.”

“Chéri means honey or darling,” Amelie tells him, her accent rhythmic as the words roll off her tongue. “Mom likes using names like that.”

“Cute,” he smiles, kissing her cheek and hugging her tighter to his chest, waves lightly crashing into their backs, barely reaching his hips. “Happy you’re here, doll.”

“Me too.”

Harry presses his lips to Amelie’s, smiling as her arms hug tighter around his shoulders. He is grateful for the privacy, wanting to show her that she deserves to have someone that loves on her around anyone. He is nervous though, he would have to admit; media can be absolutely brutal, and the last thing he would want is to have someone hurt her through a lousy magazine or social media posting. He cherishes the kiss, the easiest affection. He could kiss her for hours.

“You seem to really love it here,” Amelie says, kissing his cheek, her legs quickly moving to her chest as a jellyfish moves past them. Harry gently grabs her thighs, trying to coax her into circling around him completely. “Harry.”

“Hm,” Harry sighs, his thumbs gently rubbing her skin as he awaits her answer – although he is sure he already knows.

“Don’t.” Her voice is quiet as she shakes her in disapproval, her eyes scanning beneath them for the fish, her legs slowly slinking towards the sand. “’m too heavy.”

“Says who?” he wonders, his voice slightly exasperated and confused. He is angry, frustrated with whoever would tell her such a thing, make her believe that there is something about her that would make her not fit enough for affection. “Doll, who said that? They’re wrong.”

“I –” Her voice cracks and Harry knows exactly who’s done this. He would do anything to have a talk with Jack, to really get inside the boy’s head and see how anyone could treat another human this way, especially one that deserves nothing but love.

“Hey, you don’t need to think about that with me.”

Let me love you, please.

“Harry, I’m trusting you,” Amelie breathes, taking a deep breath and releasing the tension in her muscles, allowing Harry to coax her thighs around his waist, his arms tucked under her bum and holding her to him. He kisses her cheek a smile on his lips as she begins to relax.

“Appreciate that more than you know,” Harry says, his lips delicate on her skin. “I’ve got you. Always do.”

In that very moment, Amelie chooses to believe him.

Amelie paces around the bedroom, her suitcase strewn across the lounger, her outfit for the evening set out neatly on the made bed. Her anxiety is echoing in her brain, her heart pounding heavily against her ribcage, her jaw tense as she stares at the multiple ignored calls with her sister. Harry is partially undressed, getting ready to shower, leaning uselessly on the mattress. He absolutely hates seeing her this way. He would love to take the stress and negative thoughts away.

He sighs, walking over to her and gently grabbing her shoulders, his hands cupping her cheeks and making her meet his stare, his lips touching her forehead to calm her. “Don’t worry, love,” Harry says softly, trying his best to calm her. “Aren’t Phoebe’s friends coming to the show, tomorrow? Maybe they’re all talking.”

“Guess so,” Amelie sighs, leaning into his chest, his arms embracing her. He taps her spine lightly, nodding to the vibrating phone set on the dresser behind them. “Maybe that’s her.”

“I’ll leave you to it.”

Quickly taking her phone, she sighs heavily, sliding her thumb across the screen and waiting to have the video connect to speak. “Hey, Phoebe.”

Hi, Phoebe, Harry whispers, nodding towards the shower and walking into the bathroom, quietly shutting the door behind him and turning on the vent, the water sputtering on and hitting the tiles.

“Hey,” Phoebe murmurs, her lips pursed together, her cheek leaning against her fist.

“Are you alright? You’ve been avoiding my calls,” Amelie says, her voice barely above a whisper, the anxiety beginning to overwhelm her.

Phoebe found out. Phoebe found out and now she’s mad at you. You’re the worst sister. She’s going to hate you.

“You’re there, in Melbourne,” Phoebe sighs, blinking slowly and taking a deep breath, trying to gather all of her thoughts and emotions. Phoebe wasn’t mad at Amelie. How could she be? Her sister fell in love, that was obvious. Having a relationship, after everything, is what she deserved. Her lying about it, that’s what upset her. “Valentine’s Day is tomorrow.”

“Not sure what you’re getting at.”

“At dinner, on Sunday, you said you were seeing someone.” Her voice is flat, lacking all emotion, her eyes a bare blue, lacking their shine and glimmer that light everyone’s day. That breaks Amelie’s heart. “It’s Harry. You’re seeing Harry Styles.”

“Phoebe,” Amelie begins, quickly quieting as Phoebe opens her mouth to speak. Her intention was to listen, to not upset her any further.

“Don’t lie to me.”

“Wanted to tell you, I did,” Amelie says honestly, tears prickling her eyes as she takes in the hurt on her sister’s face. “How did you find out?”

“Cassie is a barista at the café on the private beach,” Phoebe sighs, running her fingers through her hair and shaking her head. “Could see Harry a mile away with those yellow trunks. On the way out, she wanted to see if he was still there, maybe she could say hello or something. There Harry was, standing over a girl, shaking his wet hair out, laughing. Cass took a picture and sent it to me. Whoever she is, Harry looks really happy, is what she told me.”

“Cassie posted it,” Amelie chokes, her anxiety rushing with thoughts that spring tears in her eyes.

Oh my god, everyone is going to find out. Everyone is going to find out and the bullying, the harassing, everything is going to start before you and Harry could even make it to two months together.

“Of course not,” Phoebe assures her, her heart breaking as soon as Amelie begins breathing heavier. “As soon as Cassie texted me the photo, everything made more sense. Mama showed me the picture you sent her of the beach, the hotel. All of it looked the same as the pictures people posted online. Knew it then. I told her that she could not post it.”

“Oh,” Amelie breathes, the sweat on her forehead beginning to dry.

“Hurts me that you didn’t tell me, Amelie. You’re my sister, my best friend. We tell each other everything,” Phoebe sighs,

“Phoebe, I.” Amelie has nothing to say.

“Are you happy?”

Amelie goes absolutely silent, pursing her lips together and lightly nodding her head. Harry steps into the room, a shy smile on his lips as he nods, telling her everything without a word.

“Are you happy? Are you and Harry happy?” Phoebe repeats, desperate to emphasise her meaning. Her sister deserves to be happy, whether she believes so or not. Phoebe could never be upset with her for that.

“I am,” Amelie smiles, genuinely smiling, taking a deep breath. Her honesty surprises her, the way the words are so easy to say shocking her. Happiness, like this, hasn’t been something she believed she could have. “For the first time, I am.”

“Then, I’ll be okay. You and I, we’re okay. I’m not upset.” Phoebe sucks in a breath, budding her courage in her chest. Phoebe never expected this to happen. “Put Harry on the phone.”

“Huh?”

“Tu m'avez entendu, Amelie.”

Harry’s eyes widen at the statement. He gulps, taking a deep breath and walking towards Amelie, nodding approvingly and settling on the bed beside her.

“Um, Phoebe wants to talk to you,” Amelie mutters, giving him the phone and nodding towards the bathroom. “’m gon’a go take a shower.” Grabbing her towel and nervously treading into the en-suite, she shuts the door slightly, barely enough space to hear.

Harry clears his throat, taking a deep breath before beginning. He can see that Phoebe is shaking. “Know that you’re mad at us, and I’m sorry.”

“Not mad,” Phoebe says nervously, her thoughts jumbled and trying to comprehend who is speaking to her on the screen. Never would she have thought that this would be the way she would him. “Just a little upset.”

“Understand if you are mad, because Amelie and I made the decision not to tell anyone, and that included you,” he sighs, scratching his neck nervously. “’m sorry you had to find out by someone else, but you should know that you not speaking to her is making her really upset.”

“Has Amelie gone in the shower yet?”

“Mhm,” Harry nods, unsure where the conversation is heading, accepting it, nonetheless.

“Do you know about Jack?” Phoebe murmurs, her voice growing quieter to ensure that Amelie wouldn’t hear. Upsetting her about him is not what she wants to be doing.

“Unfortunately, yes,” Harry mutters, desperately trying to not become angry. Hearing his name makes Harry furious.

“Amelie thinks I don’t know, and I don’t remember what happened, but I do, and I don’t ever want to see her that upset, that bad, again, okay?”

“Of course.” Harry smiles softly, admiring the way she so openly cares about her sister.

“Know you’re you and all, but that’s my sister. You can’t hurt her, okay?” Her voice is laced desperately, the concern evident in her eyes. Harry would never dream of hurting her, and he has to make sure she knows.

“Phoebe, I promise you, I won’t.”

Amelie’s eyebrows furrow together in confusion as Harry says that, her towel tucked around her hair and her body clothed in simply her panties and lace bra that he loves. Harry pats the bed, encouraging her to come closer to him.

“Not a bribe, but ‘m gon’a need you to tell me the shows you have tickets to,” Harry says, smiling as Amelie settles in the open space that he’s made for her.

“Um, San Diego and Santa Clara,” she stutters, her fingers shaking over her mouth as he hands her sister his phone and she typed in the dates for him.

“Alright. Talk soon,” Harry smirks, squeezing his girlfriend’s thigh and setting her phone in her hand, kissing her cheek, his body moving away from the mattress and taking his phone into the bathroom to busy himself until the call is over.

“Phoebe,” Amelie teases, mouthing a quiet, thank you, as Harry tosses headphones to her to talk, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. Don’t be mad.”

“Ugh,” Phoebe sighs, knuckling her eyes and taking a heavy breath. “I’m not mad. As long as you’re happy, I’m happy. Amelie, you deserve to be happy, even though you think you don’t.”

“Love you, Phoebe.”

“Love you, too,” Phoebe says quietly, turning her light off and settling under her comforter, her eyes beginning to close. “Don’t fuck this up for me, Amelie. Don’t fuck this up for you, either.”

“I’ll try not to, Pheebs, I’ll try.”

Harry reserved the most secluded section on the beach. Quiet waves crashing against the sand, twinkling lights around the posts, blankets and stray towels accompanying their picnic to lay on the cushion of the cabana, the sand slightly damp beneath their feet. Amelie can make out the chatter of the crowds in the distance, the sidewalk much too far for them to be seen.

“Like this,” Amelie smiles shyly, taking a bite of her sandwich and taking a swig from the wine settled between herself and Harry. “Quiet and very us. Nothing flashy and extravagant. That’s something I always wanted, y’know – to be happy, simply me and the other person.”

Harry presses a chaste kiss to her lips, his thumb and forefinger holding her chin, nosing her jaw with a kiss and squeezing her hand.

“Harry.”

“Hm.”

“Do you think that the stars align a certain way to make things happen? Don’t know, like, the universe wants something good to happen to someone, so the stars and the planets and moon move a certain way to make it happen,” she wonders, laying her sandwich down and leaning back on her hands, her head turned over her shoulder to look at her boyfriend, his body resting peacefully on the blanket, his head tucked on a folded towel.

“Jovian-Plutonian Effect,” Harry smirks, his eyes shining beneath the moonlight. “Think you’re mine if that counts for anything.”

“One thing I was thinking about the other day –” she begins, her eyes narrowing as his voice cracks to interrupt.

“You think about a lot of things.”

Amelie lightly smacks Harry’s arm, his laughter airy and making her heart swell against her ribcage. Her love for him is growing every day, and there is one moment every so often that makes her want to mutter the words that she swore she would never say to a man, ever again, the words that would break her heart eventually.

But you do love him, Amelie’s heart incessantly reminds her. That is something that happened. You fell in love.

“You and I,” she whispers, trailing her attention from the crashing waves to the moon lingering above them, the light casting above their illuminating skin, “whenever we’re apart, we’re staring at the same moon. It sounds stupid, I know, but there’s something comforting about that. You,” she hesitates, frightened by the words falling so easily from her lips, “you’re one of my closest friends. Don’t know, it’s just nice never feeling that far away.”

“Nothing you say is stupid. Don’t say that,” Harry sterns, gently poking her thigh to have her attention. “Only a phone call away if you need me, love,” he murmurs, taking her hand in his and kissing her knuckles. “Always looking at the same moon.”

“Know that I’ve only known you a month, but I’m proud of you. Not many people would have the courage to go on stage the way you do, travel so many weeks and months away, work the way you do. I admire you, Harry. There are so many people that you inspire, every day. I’m one of them.”

“Gon’a be honest, it’s hard sometimes, and it’s one of the only things that are truly hard. Missing m’family, you. Hope that you’ll come and join tour eventually, see what it’s like. ‘s my dream. ‘s like when your work is in an exhibit, y’know, the one place where everything makes sense. All the adrenaline and the screaming and everyone singing back to you. Nothing like it,” Harry rambles, moving the covered wine aside and kissing your knee sweetly. “Happy to make you proud, doll. You inspire me.”

“Hate being this, soft,” Amelie giggles, squeezing his hand and gently nudging their hands into his thigh. “Not very like us. Usually, you’re bothering me.”

“Don’t like sharing your emotions, I get that,” he sighs, turning over and laying his head on her thigh, smiling softly as she cards her fingers through his hair, scratching his scalp lightly. “Know that going through all that you did made you feel this way, and I’m sorry that it happened, but I want you to know that you can share things with me.”

Her eyes sting with tears, her lips pouting as Harry wipes a stray from her cheek. “Hate that Phoebe was mad at me. Honestly, it makes my stomach hurt. Didn’t want to hurt her by hiding this, us, you know? I just didn’t know how to tell her. Hard to really understand this all sometimes,” Amelie pauses, trying to find the proper wording to express herself.

Expressing yourself is hard enough on a good day.

“C’mere, baby,” Harry sighs, situating on the blanket and opening his arms, smiling as her body settles on his thighs, her arms tucked around his shoulders, his lips touching light kisses on her shoulder. He barely makes out her mumbled apology, his head moving away from her shoulder to stare. “Amelie, why are you apologising to me? You’ve done nothing wrong.”

“Crying into you because of my anxiety on a Valentine’s Day date,” Amelie laughs wetly, tears staining her cheeks, her eyes glossy as she stares into his, his thumbs drying her skin. “Hate me.”

Harry’s heart twists in his chest. He absolutely hates that Amelie feels this way. He isn’t quite sure what anxiety entails, the details and intricacies, but knowing that all of her thoughts and emotions are so deeply impacted by it hurts him. He would do anything to take it all away. “Don’t say that.” He nearly wants to mutter the three words they’ve been waiting to say. He hesitates, taking a moment to gather his thoughts back. “All I want is fo’ you to feel okay. You have me, I’m here.”

“Harry Styles.”

Her voice is airy, her hands clasped together around his neck, fingertips twirling the curls at the nape, her thumb tracing the cut of his jaw softly. Her mouth sponges kisses on his cheek, her breath hitching in her throat as his mouth steals her lips, his kiss gentle and lingering on her skin.

Harry knows that Amelie won’t verbally say more, yet the way her arms are tight around his shoulders, her mouth is rhythmic with his, their kiss taking their breath away, his hands squeezing around her torso to have her melt impossibly closer to him, tells him everything. Harry knows that Amelie trusts him, that eventually everything would be said.

All that was needed was time. Harry didn’t mind waiting.

His fingertips work at the buttons on her the dress – floral printed, naturally, his mouth kissing her shoulder as he nudges the jacket away from her torso. His mouth grew dry at the way her breasts accentuated the cut; the straps are sewn with thicker material for support beginning to slip off her shoulders. Her giggles echo in his ear, making his stomach swirl with butterflies and his heart beat so loudly he swears she could hear it.

“Quite possibly the worst idea you’ve ever had, Mr Styles,” Amelie smirks, manoeuvring her body beneath his and tugging the dress away, Harry’s shirt tossed somewhere near the basket, a sheet pulled over their bodies to hide them away, the cabana’s curtains tugged closed, the moonlight peeking through the slight cracks. “Don’t get us caught.”

“Don’t be loud,” Harry chuckles, his teeth nipping her bottom lip, her eyes rolling at his comment. “May or may not have a crush on you.”

“Considering you say that quite a bit, I think you do.” Her mouth moulds against his perfectly, a giggle leaving her lips as he fumbles to work his jeans down his thighs. “That’s what you get for wearing jeans.”

“Quit teasing me.”

“Make it so easy for me, though.”

“Quite lucky the way you flirt with me is endearing, Ames,” Harry teases, laying his jeans along with their clothes and straddling her waist, one knee tucked between her thighs, his forearms around her splayed hair.

“Call this flirting? Oh, this is nothing.”

Harry laughs, shaking his head and laying his lips on hers, soaking in the way she tastes faintly of wine and the swollenness of her flesh, her fingers lacing through his, squeezing his hand for comfort. He adores this, the way he can feel her calming. Harry savours the moment, the way their skin is clammy against each other and her thighs are wrapped around his waist, the way his heart is heavy in his chest because everything feels right.

Harry and Amelie couldn’t have pointed out the planets or the stars or the constellations underneath their makeshift blanket, their attention too obsessive with each other and the way they feel.

Although, Harry could have sworn that this is what it felt like to have Jupiter and Pluto align.

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