#// she got bit by the 'I need to make a cover/musical arrangement' bug and she's being SO normal. She's being SO mentally stable in the

[radioconstructed]

⌖ HELLO! I am WORKING ON SOMETHING! 🎶

[fabulouspotatosister]

just for a day

summary: What’s a little acting between friends? If friends was even the right word.

word count: (idk yet man lol ) 3,373

request:  Hello! I just wanna say your writing is absolutely amazing! If I may, could I request an 11 x reader where the reader’s friends keep bugging them to get a boyfriend, but they say they already do and they have to ask the Doctor to be their “boyfriend” (kind of like with Clara at the beginning of Time Of The Doctor) and eventually leads to feelings being spilt? If not, that’s perfectly fine!

a/n: this got WAYYY too long and for that i am so sorry lmao. i’m writing and posting this on the same day so if there are many mistakes or it doesn’t make sense that’s on me. anyway, i hope you enjoy this fic!

gif credit: @pavel-chekovs

~

“You’re back!”

 You’d expected screaming. You’d expected yelling, and a fair dose of pterodactyl-esque screeching from the students in your advisory class, but what you weren’t expecting was crying. And lots of it. Nearly every fresh-faced elementary student was in tears, some sobbing quietly and some full-on bawling as soon as you walked through the door.

It was nice, cute even, but honestly a little disconcerting.

 “Hi, everyone,” you said, shutting the door carefully behind you. The sight of their crying faces immediately activated your Parent Mode. “Are you all okay?”

 “Perfectly fine!” Marih chirped, president of the class and therefore a little more levelheaded than the rest, which earned her a handful of disagreeing sighs. “What? Guys, you look ridiculous crying,” she continued, as she wiped her cheeks with the back of her palms and gave you a toothy grin. “We’re just happy you’re here again.”

 You smiled at her, and reached out to pat the top of her head. “That’s great and all, but it’s like you guys haven’t seen me in ages.”

 A heavy silence fell over the whole class. You saw students shift in their seats and look down at the floor, suddenly very interested in their black school shoes. Even Jaden, the class’s resident troublemaker, didn’t say a word. Marih cringed, ran a hand through her long dark hair, and smoothed the front of her checkered uniform.

 “How long have I been gone?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. Marih seemed to cringe away at the question. “I thought I was only travelling for a week!”

 “Actually,” Marih said, stretching out the word, “you’ve been gone for three months?”

Your mouth fell open. You stared at her for a moment, dumbfounded, before you dug into your pocket and fished out your phone – she was right, it had been exactly three months and a week since you’d left the school to go travelling.

 You groaned. “Oh, I’m going to kill him.”

 By travelling, you meant time travelling and by him you meant the Doctor. The madman in a box that you’d run off with. You had let him turn your life upside down in the best way possible since he dragged you into the TARDIS, with his stupidly gorgeous smile and eyes and – you were getting off topic. Now you were plotting the murder of the man that you would consider to be the most incredible thing that had ever happened to you.

 “Hey, ma’am?” came a soft voice from the front of the room. Karyll, with her tied-back hair and glasses, looked up at you from her seat. “Why are you looking like you’re going to kill someone?”

 “’Cause I am,” you said cheerily, shoving your phone back into your pocket. Oh, you were going to have words with him, and they would most definitely not be nice ones. “Have I missed anything big? Were you nice to my substitute?”

 A collective wave of disagreement swept over the class, and you couldn’t help but let a smile slip onto your face. These were your babies after all, and if you’d really been gone for three months then they were sorely missing their Second Mom.

 Maybe the tears weren’t that much of a surprise after all.

 “Okay, good morning everyone! Now, if we’re still on schedule, and I really hope we are, we should be talking about integers…”

 The late afternoon sun drifted through the curtains of your classroom, filling the room with an almost hazy glow as you sat with your best friends in a haphazard circle of desks. Your kids had all gone home already, and a little pile of flowers and chocolates sat neatly on your shelves, right beside your lesson plan folders.

 Denise leaned forward to look at them, her curly hair falling over her face. She was the elementary students’ science teacher, and was so well-organized it was almost inhuman. She would have liked the planet where everything was arranged alphabetically, you thought.

 “I’m jealous, my students never give me gifts,” she said as she leaned away. “Sis, where have you even been?”

 “Long story,” you replied, and it was. You weren’t sure if you could fit everything you’d been through – travelling through time, going to planets lightyears away, and of course all of the near-death experiences – into a story that you could tell in under an hour, and you weren’t going to try.

 “And you’ve been travelling? By yourself?” Julianne, an arts teacher, raised her eyebrows at you from behind her laptop. “God, that’s lonely. Oh – unless…” Her calm expression morphed into something truly evil in your line of work – mischievousness. “Unless you had someone with you.”

 “I mean –” Oh no, this was going to be hard to get out of. “I mean, I wasn’t alone,” you said, hoping the smile on your face was enough to mask your utter fear. You knew exactly where Julianne was going and you hated it. “I was with someone.”

 “Ooh,” Julianne said, her grin growing so sly it was sending shivers up your spine. “You’ve been gone three months, has anything happened between you and your travel buddy?”

 Heat rushed to your face. If you were a cartoon character steam would be pouring from your ears. “Why would you say something like that?”

 Julianne shrugged. “We’ve been telling you to get a boyfriend for so long. You said you’d be gone a week, and then you disappear for three months… that kinda says something, don’t you think, Denise?”

 “Definitely.” Denise grinned, and you shot her a helpless look.

 “We’re doing this because we love you,” Julianne sang. The light from her laptop was enough to make her look absolutely menacing. “So? Travel buddy? Or more than that?”

 The Doctor wasn’t just a travel buddy, and he was so much more than that – but you hadn’t found the words for what he meant to you, at least not yet. Companion was enough for you and him, but even then, there was a weight to that word. And there was definitely a weight to your partnership, but you wouldn’t call it… dating.

 Julianne simply waggled her perfectly shaped eyebrows at you. You swallowed. You and the Doctor were a long story too, and Julianne wasn’t going to be happy with “maybe” for an answer.

 The words were out of your mouth before you could stop yourself. “Fine, he’s my boyfriend!”

 I want to crawl into a hole and die was your inner monologue, and your background music was Julianne and Denise’s raucous laughter. I want to crawl into a hole and never have to face the world ever again.

 --

 Smash cut to you, standing nervously in your bedroom, gripping your phone so tightly you were sure it was going to break. Your plans of killing the Doctor for dropping you off late would have to wait. The phone rung once, twice, and you chewed your lip. If he was in the Time Vortex, any version of him could answer the phone and you couldn’t deal with that on top of everything, not today at least –

 “Hello?”

 You heaved a sigh of relief at the sound of the Doctor, your Doctor’s voice. “Help?” you squeaked out.

 “Help?” the Doctor repeated. There was a blaring noise, and then the sound of electricity crackling. Something fizzled and popped, and the Doctor shouted something that sounded like a swear. “Oh, shut it – you – sorry, sorry. You were saying?”

 “Uh, where are you right now? Are you somewhere?” you asked.

 “I’m not somewhere, I’m drifting! Right above Earth, approximately right where you are,” he said. You could hear the smile in his voice. It quelled your anxiety somewhat. “I’m doing maintenance. Agh – ow! I think I can see the roof of your house through the clouds, unless that’s someone else’s house. What color is your roof?”

 You giggled. “It’s brown. You’re in the same time as me?”

 “’Course I am,” the Doctor said. You heard the clanging sound of metal being dropped. “I never left.”

 The Doctor liked to run off on his own when you were home and have his own mini-adventures. He liked to come back and say he’d spent his time with alien royalty, or something like that. But instead he was staying put, he was waiting, for you. It made the next part so much harder.

 “I need you to be my boyfriend,” you said quickly, covering your burning face with your free hand.

 “Oh,” the Doctor said simply. Another clang.

 Oh? “Just for a day,” you coughed. “I kind of said that I had a boyfriend, and that he was my travel buddy, and now my friends kind of want to meet you. It’s my grade’s family day tomorrow, maybe you could, uh, show up?”

 “And be your boyfriend,” the Doctor said.

 You nodded, then, “And be my boyfriend. Just for the day. You never have to show up again.”

There was a beat of silence, and for a second you thought the Doctor was going to say no – he had every right to, of course, and you could just lie and say that he couldn’t show up – but the Doctor laughed, cheerful and warm. “Ding-dong! Okay! What time tomorrow? I have to study, I’m a bit rusty in places.”

 Your mouth fell open for the second time in twenty-four hours. “You’re serious?”

 “Very! Any pet name preferences?”

 You groaned loudly, and the Doctor laughed again. “Shut up!”

 “Alright, alright. Guess I’ll have to do my own research.”

 There was another moment of silence, and when the Doctor spoke again, it was much softer, much less playful. His voice almost sounded fond. “Goodnight?”

 “Goodnight, Doctor,” you said softly, and the call cut off with a series of short beeps.

 --

 Was it a surprise that you barely slept at all? You had spent the whole night with your imagination running at full capacity, your mind latching onto every single thought and concept it could come up with. You slipped in and out of sleep, lying still in bed whenever a possibility popped into your head. To say you were nervous was the understatement of the year – but what was a little acting between friends?

 If friends was the right word for it.

 You waited for the Doctor behind the school, leaning against the concrete wall and watching the TARDIS fade into this plane. Wind blew into your face as the TARDIS groaned and wheezed, eventually materializing in front of you.

 “I’m not late, am I?” the Doctor said, sticking his head out of the TARDIS doors. He grinned widely, his hair falling into his face. You grinned back at him and pushed yourself off the wall.

 “You’re early, which is a first,” you said. The Doctor frowned at you, stepped carefully out of the TARDIS, and frowned some more. “Don’t look at me like that.”

 “I think I’ve earned the right to look at you however I’d like,” the Doctor huffed, adjusting his bowtie. He’d ditched the tweed for the day, it seemed, going with a long green coat that annoyingly complimented his eyes. The frown didn’t last very long, though, because he went right back to grinning brightly at you. He held out his elbow in your direction. “Shall we?”

 “Here’s the lucky girl,” Julianne cooed as you walked into the empty canteen. All the tables were pushed aside to make space for all the games you’d be playing – in the corner of your eye, you saw the Doctor light up at the sight of all of the streamers and balloons. “And here’s the lucky boy – oh my god, Denise.”

 “What?” Denise popped up from behind a large speaker, then blanched. “Oh, now I’m double jealous.”

 The Doctor pulled away from you to lightly kiss both of Julianne’s cheeks in greeting. Julianne looked positively starstruck when he stepped back to stand beside you, quickly waving Denise over. Denise had her mouth hanging open, still clutching a microphone in her hands.

 “Hi,” you said, gesturing at the Doctor, “here’s my boyfriend.”

 The Doctor raised his hand and smiled. “Hello! I’m John Smith, lovely to meet you both. You’re my girlfriend’s girl friends, I assume?”

 “Uh –” Denise blinked owlishly. “Yeah, we are.” Then, quietly and to herself, “Holy moly.”

 You couldn’t help but grin at their flabbergasted faces. The Doctor rested his hand on the small of your back, and you leaned into his touch as if it was the most normal thing in the universe. That was enough to make Denise stumble into Julianne, who barely even reacted, as she was still staring wide-eyed at the both of you.

 “I think we caught them off guard,” you said. The Doctor chuckled and leaned down to kiss the top of your head.

 “You did when we met, sweetheart,” the Doctor said smoothly. Sweetheart echoed in your ears and bounced off the walls of your already racing mind. Your heart stuttered in your chest. That was bad.

 “Oh, are we doing charm now?” you asked. “Are you trying to be charming?”

 “I did say I would study,” the Doctor said.

 “You guys are insufferable,” Denise said, but she was beaming at you. “If you could get your hands off of your travel buddy for just a few minutes, I need help with the mics, the families are gonna be here any minute…”

 Her voice trailed off as she walked back to the speaker. You stood on your tiptoes to kiss the Doctor’s cheek, feeling his skin heat up underneath your lips. “See you later.”

 “…See you,” the Doctor echoed, and bent down to kiss your cheek too. He turned on his heel and walked towards the decorations, softly muttering, “Ooh, balloons! Love a good balloon…”

 You stared at him for longer than you should have, watching him poke and prod at the balloons lying on the tables. He put his face very close to one and smiled at his reflection in the plastic. Affection welled up in your chest, and a tiny smile slipped onto your face.

 “Look at you, you’re smiling at him,” Julianne chimed, sidling up to you and nudging your side. “That’s disgusting.”

 “Says the girl who said I needed to get a boyfriend,” you shot back.

 The Doctor went still for a little bit and turned to face you, smiled and winked, then went right back to inspecting balloons. Julianne made a strangled noise, and you made one too. So he was doing charm, and you hated to admit that it was absolutely working on you.  

 “I meant to say disgustingly adorable,” Julianne said. “You’re so lucky.”

 You gave him another glance as you walked away to help Denise with the mics – “help with the mics” was apparently code for “I’m going to tease you more about your new boyfriend”  which wasn’t helped by the fact that every so often, the Doctor would look in your direction and just smile, which was enough to make you stumble over your own words and give Denise more teasing fodder.

 The parents and their kids eventually filed into the canteen and you flipped into Teacher Mode. You stood next to your students, pinched their cheeks and then greeted all of the parents and got everyone ready for the program. (You didn’t notice how the Doctor mirrored you, standing a little far away and watching, a dumb smile on his face.)

 Julianne and Denise were the emcees for the family day, big smiles on their faces as they rounded up everyone for the games. At the mere mention of games, the Doctor was back at your side at an instant, his eyes glittering with excitement.

 “Please don’t destroy the kids,” you pleaded.

 “No promises,” he replied, and then proceeded to destroy the kids in most of the games.

 The first game had Julianne call out for whoever could bring an item of her choice to the table – the Doctor, with his coat that was surely bigger on the inside, had no trouble pulling out whatever was asked. Even when Julianne started to test the waters and ask for increasingly insane items, the Doctor just kept going. He jumped in joy like a little kid at the win, bounding up to you and pressing a kiss to your cheek. You’d just blushed and smiled, ignoring the butterflies that were multiplying in your stomach.

 The Doctor holding your hand wasn’t new. The Doctor being close to you wasn’t new. The Doctor being affectionate with you wasn’t new. But now it was all under the guise of being your boyfriend. Of course it felt different, but to your surprise and growing horror, it didn’t feel bad.

 The Doctor shouting your name snapped you out of your thoughts. He was standing on a piece of newspaper as Denise started to get music ready, waving his arms to beckon you over. His coat was gone, thrown onto a nearby table, and even without it he was dashing.

 “I need you over here!” he yelled, still jumping excitedly. His hair bounced up and down with the movement. “I need a partner!”

 You let your feet carry you to him, trying to ignore the stares pointed your way. The Doctor took your hand in his and pulled you onto the newspaper.

 “Stay close,” the Doctor said. “I’ve got this.”

 Loud, thumping music filled the air. The Doctor spun you around and you squealed in surprise, moving your feet clumsily to the music. Suddenly, it stopped, and the Doctor pulled you back onto the newspaper. It was a tight fit, and you had to press yourself against his body to even stay standing. The butterflies in your stomach went crazy at the contact, and once again you tried to ignore that, too.

 “What did I say?” the Doctor breathed, his breath tickling your ear, his smile wide and manic. “Let’s dance!”

 The paper got smaller and smaller, and the two of you got closer and closer. Sweat started to bead on your forehead, and the Doctor had rolled his sleeves up in the middle of all the chaos. In the end, it was just you and another pair of parents, tiptoeing on their own folded pieces of newspaper.

 “I’ve got an idea,” the Doctor said, his voice loud over the music. “When the music stops, jump into my arms.”

 “Seriously?!” you shouted, and the Doctor nodded enthusiastically. “You’ve got the balance of a drunk giraffe! You’ll drop me!”

 “Do you trust me?” the Doctor asked.

 There wasn’t any question. “I do!”

 “Then jump!”

 The music stopped, and in the split second where the Doctor stepped onto the now-tiny folded newspaper, you ran and leapt. For a moment, it seemed like he wouldn’t be able to catch you at all, and in your mind you could already see it – you crashing into him and sending you both tumbling to the floor.

 The Doctor’s arms shot out and caught you. Cheers erupted from everyone in the canteen, and behind you your competitors both lost their balance and fell face-first onto the floor. You wrapped your arms around the Doctor’s neck to steady yourself in his arms, feeling him shake slightly as he kept you aloft.

 “We won!” you gasped, still basking in all of the cheering. “As expected from my lovely boyfriend.”

 The words left your mouth as easily as breathing. You smiled up at the Doctor, breathless from all of the dancing. His skin shone with sweat, his hair was a mess, and his bowtie was askew, but even that was enough to make you throw all caution to the wind – still in his arms, you pulled him down and kissed him.

 Cheers erupted from everyone again, but you could care less. The room could be empty and nothing would have changed. As cliché as it sounded, all the mattered was the feeling of the Doctor’s lips against yours. Your hands found their way into his hair and he melted into your touch, pulling you closer to him.

 “You know,” the Doctor breathed as he pulled away, “I don’t want this to be just for a day.”

 “Good,” you replied. You leaned up to press a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Because I don’t either.”

[lilacharry]

Tongue Tied

Inspired by true events

“Y/N,” James seemed to bark, snapping Y/N back into reality. She had been sat recording some material for a popular late night talk show and the group had veered into unknown territory for her. Something about the discomfort of one of the other guests having to shoot a very intimate scene in front of their partner’s spouse. Y/N had never been put in such a situation and felt it would have been better to remain quiet on her end of the couch.

“Yes!” She laughed, startled at the sudden call of her name.

“I’ve heard that you throw massive, major parties,” James smiled, his cards covering his mouth as he leaned back into his seat.

“Kind of,” Y/N answered with suspicion, eyeing the audience, “I mean, they’re not that big-”

“No, they’re massive! We had Derek on a few months ago and he said that you have a venue with three different rooms just for different genres of music,” James spoke feverishly, his hands outstretched.

“I mean,” Y/N trailed as she shuffled in her seat, “yeah... but he’s making it seem a lot bigger than it is-”

“I have never been so offended in my life to not have received an invitation,” James threw his hands up.

“You would come?” Y/N laughed, clasping her hands in front of her crossed legs.

“You say that like it’s absurd? Have you got something against fuller bodied men dancing the night away? Do you think I’ll embarrass you?” James jokingly scoffed.

“I didn’t get an invitation, either,” Harry piped from the other end of the couch, raising his index finger.

That was one voice Y/N had been trying to ignore the entire night. She had been a fan ever since she was younger and had done a good job of avoiding meeting the celebrity at other gatherings. She had not been sure how she would act if she ever had the opportunity to properly meet him and decided on playing it safe by actively avoiding events and locations she knew he frequented. That was until one of the producers on the Late Late show had lied to her about Harry’s presence on the show that particular night.

Everyone seemed to know of Y/N’s plans to avoid Harry Styles and took great joy in trying to get the two in a room. Judging by how flustered Y/N would even get when the young man’s name was brought up, everybody thought it would be a delight to surprise her with his presence. She had done a wonderful job of wising up to everybody’s intentions, so far. She had started to decline last minute invitations for random parties from her close friends ever since that one incident. She had had a little wine in her system and been grinding on one of her gyrating friends one night—as a joke—when someone had started recording on their phone. It was when she went to look up from her friend pretending to spank her, to see Harry enter the party. The video was quite amusing, seeing her eyes widen in fear as she’s filmed booking it out of frame. Since then, whenever she would decline sudden invitations to gatherings, she would wake up to see that he had attended said event the next morning while scrolling through her social media feed. She knew why her friend, Florence, would try to arrange last minute brunches with her as Y/N knew Florence’s boyfriend was great friends with Harry and had shared in Florence’s attempts to get her to meet him. She had gone about two years of avoiding the male, but, alas, here she was two cushions over from him. She blamed her sudden bout of placidity on the fact that she didn’t want to say or do anything embarrassing in front of him, but James had kept poking fun at her and she wasn’t sure how much more she could take.

“Then is it just against the British, Y/N?” James scowled.

“Well, most people that come out are either very Hispanic or love latin music and are, like, professional dancers,” Y/N’s face burned as she explained.

“What? Do we not look like professionals?” James egged her on.

“No, I’m sure you’re great dancers. But, it’s also back in San Francisco,” Y/N reasoned with a little shrug of her shoulders, “you would make the trip out?”

“Invite us, and you’ll find out,” James commented with a little giggle, “no, seriously, though, do you really need three different rooms?”

“Well, if people prefer one specific genre it’s kinda nice,” Y/N explained.

“Like what?” Harry asked, trying to make eye contact with the woman that had been avoiding his gaze since the beginning of the show.

“Eh, last time we had one for salsa, bachata, and tropical, and the main room had food and, like... I don’t mean to sound crass, but like... white people music,” Y/N grimaced at the term, “I’m sorry! I don’t know how else to describe it. They also play other music, but more like music that you can kind of... I don’t know...”

“That’s very offensive, Y/N,” James gawked before laughing out.

“Like top 40!” Harry came to Y/N’s rescue.

“Yes, like top 40!” Y/N laughed, and Harry smiled at her nose scrunching in the process.

“So there were four rooms, in total?” James suddenly realized.

“Yes, but it sounds bigger than it really is,” Y/N shook her head, .

“Oh, stop minimizing the party you didn’t invite us to,” James narrowed his eyes at Y/N.

“I’ll make sure to invite you to the next one; we have great food, too,” Y/N leaned back in her seat, uncomfortable with being called out for something she didn’t know she had done wrong.

“I hate that that’s where your mind automatically went,” James feigned offense. In all reality, James knew how timid Y/N was being and the reasoning behind it. He knew her character and knew she would never say anything to offend him, but he was enjoying taking advantage of the situation.

“No! That’s not what I meant,” Y/N’s eyes seemed to bug out of her skull.

“And for your information, I’m quite the athlete when it comes to dancing,” James turned his nose up at Y/N.

“Athlete? What all do you know how to dance?” Harry rolled his eyes as he reached for his drink that had been set on the coffee table in front of them.

“I can absolutely murder the dance floor whenever white people music comes on,” James earned a laugh from the audience, “Y/N what are you best at? Or do you know all of the ones you mentioned?”

“Sort of,” Y/N smiled and shrugged, “I’m better at others, but nothing too fancy. I know, like, the basics of a lot of them just because my mom knew so much and taught me, growing up.”

“Here at Late, Late, we do not tolerate liars,” James began before turning to the monitor behind him, “and Derek sent us this and I’d like to see what you have to say.”

A clip came on where Y/N had been shown being led by one of her companions around a dance floor, making Y/N laugh out.

“Explain that, Y/N!” James pointed at the monitor, “’nothing too fancy’—that’s professional. What’s that, then? Bit of salsa?”

“Yes... but I’m actually not that good at it,” Y/N explained.

“I hate you,” James teased, “could you teach us something?”

“Sure... Now?” Y/N questioned, raising her brows.

“Yeah, you know just something quick and very complex,” James laughed as Y/N looked over to a producer that had been waving at the group to start wrapping up, “eh... our producers are waving at us. Can we do a little something when we come back?”

“I’ll teach you when you come to the next one,” Y/N offered after they got a negative response from one of the producers.

“I’m already looking forward to it,” James responded before turning to outstretch his hand to Harry, “will you be my date?”

“If I’m invited, yes!” Harry grabbed a hold of James’ hand before the two turned to look at Y/N.

“Of course! Did you want one, as well?” Y/N quickly diverted attention to the long forgotten third guest who had been seated between her and Harry.

The rest of the show went along smoothly enough; with Y/N staying somewhat reserved and not making even more of a complete fool of herself. The show had soon wrapped and she was soon caught in a storm of questions and demands from her team as they swept her away from set. She tried to politely excuse herself with one last general farewell, but was enamored with how Harry had reached out to shake her hand and tell her it had been nice to meet her. She felt light headed as she was urged to continue away to the room that had been assigned to her, backstage.

+ + +

“Was that really so bad, now?” Martin, the producer that had invited her onto the show, came walking into her dressing room as Y/N and her team had started to pack up.

“I made a complete and utter fool of myself,” Y/N cried out, covering her face with her palms, “I actually said white people music!”

“He knew you didn’t mean it like that,” Martin brushed off her embarrassment as he leaned in the doorframe.

“I can’t believe you did that to me; I’m just thankful I didn’t pass out,” Y/N remarked as her hands dropped to her side before she reached out to grab a hold of one of her bags.

“He thought you were lovely,” Martin rolled his eyes, “and he’s really looking forward to that invitation, Y/N.”

“What makes you say that?” Y/N furrowed her brows as more people seemed to shuffle out of the room.

“I heard him ask James to let him know if you ended up sending the invitation, since you didn’t take his number,” Martin grinned as he crossed his arms over his chest, “even after James told him he wouldn’t want to make the trip out there. Said he’s genuinely curious as to how such a gathering would go, but I think he’s just taken a liking to you.”

“How? I barely spoke the entire time we were in the same room,” Y/N huffed out.

“Dunno; maybe he knows you’re a fan and wants to make your wildest dreams come true,” Martin wiggled his brows at her, earning a scoff from Y/N.

“Can we talk about this nonsense later?” Y/N widened her eyes before going to wrap her arm around Martin.

“Fine; was nice seeing you,” Martin hugged her back, “let me know when the next shin-dig is so I can tell your boyfriend.”

“Oh my God,” Y/N laughed as she made her way to the hallway.

+ + +

A few weeks later, Y/N’s phone had startled her when it rang out in the middle of a dinner she had planned with some friends. Upon glancing at the device, she found Martin’s name at the top of the message, but thought nothing of it and forgot of its existence—she didn’t like having her phone out at dinner, in the first place. It wasn’t until the next morning when she had unlocked her phone to find the message:

H is asking if there’s any word on that party ... What shall I tell him?

Under the first message was:

I’ll give him your number ???

Y/N chewed on her lower lip as she wondered if Martin had already gone through with giving Harry her number and if there were any negatives to his suggestion. She didn't see why not...

Morning! Sorry; just saw your message! Yeah; go ahead! ☺️

She sent the message and hoped she wouldn’t make even more of a complete fool of herself. It wasn’t too long before Martin sent her a screenshot of what appeared to be his messages with Harry:

Ask her!! 628-555-0890

Hey! Thanks mate! Do you think it okay, though? Not creepy, or anything?

jfc these things used to be so simple; she won’t bite

Y/N laughed out at the screenshot before she got a notification from an unknown number:

Hello! How are you? Martin gave me your number, I hope that’s okay.

And then immediately seconds after:

Sorry, this is Harry.

Y/N could not help but gush at the message and had a sudden realization that Harry Styles had just messaged her—HARRY STYLES HAD JUST MESSAGED HER. It wasn’t long before she started getting into her own head. She thought she wasn’t interesting enough to respond with something smart or enticing and wished he really hadn’t messaged her, in the first place. She had no idea how to respond to that... He didn’t give her much to go off... She started panicking.

Hi ☺️ I’m doing well! How’ve you been? Of course, I told him to ☺️ I haven’t gotten around to planning the next gathering, yet, but I’ll definitely let you know when we start looking into it ☺️

Three smiley faces were too much, wasn’t it? She didn’t know... She decided to keep the one at the end in and blindly pressed the blue send button. God, she hoped that wasn’t too short or long. She really wished Martin hadn’t put her in such a situation... She found herself laughing at the memory of Kim Kardashian crying about Kourtney knowing she felt uncomfortable in certain situations and putting her in them, anyways. This guy knew Kendall Jenner intimately... God, Y/N really wished Martin hadn’t done this to her.

Okay—sorry, hope I'm not coming off as a creep. Just knew I would forget if I didn’t get your number from Martin. I’m actually really curious to see what it looks like.

Y/N sighed out, not knowing if she should respond. There was nothing more to say... right? They weren’t best friends so that she could send something else about her day to him. At least he had left it open, so she could potentially try to strike up a conversation... but she was so bad at these things. She would surely end up coming off as the creepy one.

Well, I’m glad you reminded him, then! We'll have good music and the food’s always amazing; definitely bring comfortable and/or stretchy pants 😂

She was annoyed at how fast she just sent the message. Wasn’t there a rule to these things to ensure you didn’t look desperate? There came a lull in the time that Harry took to respond to her. She loathed how many times she checked that her ringer was on and pressed her lock button to ensure she hadn’t missed any notifications. It wasn’t until later that afternoon when another notification from Harry came through her device.

Haha will do, looking forward to it

She scrunched her nose at the message. She had been too weird; she was sure of it. This is why you shouldn’t meet your heroes—sure there’s a chance they’ll be absolute rubbish people but it’s worse when you end up being the rubbish person, isn’t it? She didn’t save his number and left the chain of messages at that. Maybe she would put an end to such gatherings so she never had to speak to him again.

+ + +

“Okay, so we have about 250 people on the list right now,” Jamie, one of Y/N’s assistants spoke between sips of her iced coffee, “are there any other people I should add?”

“Everything else was approved? The venue’s available that day?” Y/N asked as she picked at the manicure she had gotten earlier that week.

“Yep, Magno said he clears any events on days the boss throws one of her big shin digs,” Jamie laughed at the memory of Y/N’s uncle.

“And the caterers agreed to the price?” Y/N choked out as she looked up from her hands.

“Yes... What’s up with you? You’re never this careful with this stuff,” Jamie noted with a furrow of her brows, “what’s going on?”

“No, I’m just making sure that there’ll be an actual party in a few days,” Y/N cleared her throat as she straightened in her chair.

“Who’re you waiting last minute to invite?” Jamie questioned, her tone accusing. There had, on occasion, been one or two people that had gotten absolutely smashed at one of Y/N’s parties and her method to ensure they didn’t ruin an upcoming event with drunken slurs or fights with other guests was inviting them day of said event.

“Nobody,” Y/N laughed as she looked back to her twiddling fingers.

“Wait a second,” Jaime narrowed her eyes as her fingers went to frantically type at the keys of her computer, “I just control effed this mother for Harry and nothing came up... You’re procrastinating inviting the love of your life to this thing? What the hell?”

“Don’t call him that,” Y/N laughed. She really wished she hadn’t made such a promise on national television. It was all that had flooded her social media feed for the first few days after the incident, and every now and then she would be questioned about when the next party was and if she had invited Harry and James.

“This thing is in three days; even if you invited him now, it’ll be a miracle he doesn’t have anything going on... Is he even in La La Land?” Jamie shook her head at Y/N.

“I don’t know,” Y/N sighed as she stretched her legs out, in front of her seated body, “I just don’t want to embarrass myself in front of him.”

“Look, you already embarrassed yourself back on the show and he still wants the invitation? Doesn’t he deserve more than three days notice?” Jamie pressed.

“Fine; you invite him,” Y/N rolled her eyes.

“You’re going to wish you didn’t allow me access to your iCloud sign on,” Jamie smirked before her fingers went to type at her keys once more.

“Jaime... What... What does that mean, what are you doing?” Y/N fearfully questioned as she rose from her seat and ran over to where her assistant sat typing on her computer.

“God, bring stretchy pants? Not okay, Y/N,” Jaime acknowledged as Y/N peered over her shoulder to see her assistant had already logged into Y/N’s iMessage account and had pulled up her conversation with Harry, “I’m going to put ‘Hey, Harry; hope you've been well! Just wanted to let you know the next get together is going to be on Friday. Hope you can make it. Blushing, smiley face emoji...’ Sweet and simple. Yes?”

“I mean,” Y/N droned before earning a glare from Jaime, “okay, fine.”

About fifteen minutes later, Jaime squealed with delight at the notification that had popped up in the right corner of her computer.

Nice! I’ll be in town this weekend! What’s the physical address?

“Ooh! This is so cute,” Jamie gushed as she went to respond to his message.

“I’m going to embarrass myself,” Y/N kept repeating.

“You already have and he’s still coming back for more. I don’t want to hear it,” Jaime rolled her eyes as she sat back and watched the little gray bubble pop up, insinuating Harry’s typing.

Thank you! I’ll be seeing you! Take care x

“He signed off with an x, Y/N,” Jamie squealed as her hands went to squeeze Y/N’s sides.

“I know,” Y/N whined.

“What are you going to wear?” Jaime turned to look at an already very distraught Y/N.

+ + +

Harry was nervous, which had become something of a rarity, anymore. He had consulted one of his friends—one that had been well known in the fashion industry—about what he would wear for the evening. He wanted to look nice... but not like he tried to look a certain way. He was embarrassed for such a thought process and thought it ridiculous that he cared so much about the clothing he had on his body for the night. He knew there were more important things to worry about in the world but, in his defense, he had never felt this way before.

It all had to do with this one girl. About a year previously, he had begun to see her all over his Instagram feed. A few of his friends had recently befriended her and she seemed to suddenly appear in a variety of their posts. At first, he found it a little odd that there was someone so involved with his friends that he didn’t know or hadn’t heard of. He hadn’t thought much about it the first few weeks she had popped up in said photos. He had seen her hair or profile floating in the background of some of his bandmates’ posts, her laugh recorded as she filmed some of his companions videos, and this majestic and oddly captivating smile popping up in a dozen other photos. That was what had first drawn him in, if he was being completely honest. He thought her lips were a peculiar shape; but in a good way. They were a nice contrast to the sculpted ones that seemed to crowd his social media feeds. Harry was not one to judge others for their decision to change their features. He figured if something bothered somebody so much, they were entitled to change what they needed to feel better about themselves. Hers, in particular, though... Well, nobody could achieve the naturally round shape by means of filler, he thought.

He was absolutely enticed by a video in particular where Alexa, one of his close friends, had filmed while approaching her as she stood, arranging flowers in a vase. It seemed to be in somebody’s grand foyer, but Harry wasn’t as interested in all the grandeur that had surrounded her. He was ashamed to say he had studied the video for a lot longer than he would have liked to. Her hair looked like it had been held together by one of those silk scarves he had seen tied on various overpriced bags. She bore an oversized tee shirt as she worked in her space of plant clippings and, what seemed to be, forgotten stems. She spoke of line, or dimension, or something but all he could focus on was the way her lips curved when her joke about sunflowers being flowers for sons failed.

“That was so bad, oh my God,” came her laugh as she shook her head and went back to whatever she had originally intended to explain. He noticed she liked to use her hands while she articulated her thought process.

Another one of the many videos in existence had played a recording of her singing "I Just Called To Say I Love You” to one of their friends as a voicemail. Harry couldn’t believe the emotion it stirred inside of him. It was the most endearing little voice that hardly broke, and the little giggle at the end pulled at his heartstrings and he wasn’t sure why. There was this thought nagging at the back of his mind that he could get really invested in this girl if he allowed himself.

One day, he had to go against his better judgement and had tapped on her handle in one of the many tagged photos he had seen. Her profile popped up so easily and he knew he was doomed. One shot was of her sprawled across a bed, her bare legs kicked up against the headboard, feet covered in red fuzzy slippers as she seemingly read John Boyne’s The Heart's Invisible Furies. He had done little research on the book before he got a confirmation e-mail on his purchase.

Another image depicted her sitting cross legged on the floor, surrounded by a sea of various sized and shaped seashells. He couldn't help but smile at at the image of her in jeans, topless while holding up two shells over either side of her chest. She had captioned it “What the shell?”. It wasn’t funny; but he found himself eventually laughing at the caption.

It was a real slippery slope that he had fallen down. He knew better than to poke around in somebody’s social media accounts, yet there he was—laughing and gushing at the dozens of photos she had posted. There weren’t many likes on the photos and her follower count was nothing to boast about. He wondered what she did for work... There was nothing written in the little biography section and he wouldn’t allow himself to look her up on any other forms of media. He wondered how she had met so many of the people he knew.

“She was working with one of those self-help magazine column things,” Alexa had informed him over brunch one sunny afternoon.

“S'very LA,” Harry chuckled to himself, and he wasn’t sure why, but he felt badly after the words came out of his mouth.

“No, she’s not like that. She refuses to move out here; lives in San Francisco—says it gives her less anxiety,” Alexa explained as she took a bite of her veggie burger, “anyways, I guess she was working on writing or producing some documentary series with some director—Larraín, I think—and I guess he liked her so much he offered her a big gig in one of his films a couple years back.”

“Ah,” came Harry’s understanding nod. He had never heard of the man, but was surprised to hear such a drastic change of careers.

“Guess she’s a bit of a fan,” Alexa shrugged as she looked around the restaurant they had been seated at, “Florence keeps trying to get you two in the same room. You saw that video Maggie posted of Florence’s shin dig a few months ago?”

“Yeah! Got all spooked or summat,” Harry furrowed his brows as he shoveled some of the rice he had ordered earlier into his mouth.

“Well, I guess,” Alexa stopped as her eyes widened and her lips curved into a grin, “someone’s been cyber stalking.”

“Ah, s’nothing,” Harry’s cheeks burned as he reached for his water.

“Anyways, no, I guess she was mortified because you walked in,” Alexa burst into laughter.

“Me?” Harry gasped, pointing at himself in disbelief.

“Yeah,” Alexa continued to chortle before coughing into her fist, “m’telling you; she’s quite a fan.”

“Huh,” came Harry’s response as he took a drink from his water, “s’interesting.”

It hadn’t been long before he had joined in on everybody’s attempts to get into the same room as the female. Eventually, he had found out through James Corden that a producer on his show was great friends with Y/N, and the rest had been history.

He felt ridiculous as he stood in front of his mirror staring at the clothing that had been sent to him earlier that day. He groaned as he forcefully shedded the blazer from his shoulders and went in search for something more casual.

+ + +

It had already been a pretty long morning for Y/N. She had been waken at six in the morning by Jamie claiming one of the vendors fell through and was demanding a larger sum of money if Y/N really wanted them to serve food at her gathering. A groggy eyed Y/N had wandered into her study to find the contract she had drawn up with the business and had gotten them on the phone within thirty minutes bringing up the terms of contingencies the two had agreed upon. It had taken a bit of haggling on both ends, but Y/N finally got the company to agree to their original terms. It was ten by the time Y/N had just started to fall asleep when Benny, one of the decorators, had messaged Y/N about a missing table. From then on, it seemed one miniature disaster occurred one after the other. Never in the time Y/N had held such events had so many things gone wrong last minute. Thankfully, she was able to resolve most of the pop up problems, but by the time Y/N was supposed to be getting ready for the night, she felt as though she could drop at any given moment with how exhausted she felt. She had jumped back into bed and set an alarm for a thirty minute snooze, but even that had been interrupted by Jamie calling her to open her front door. The designer of the outfit Y/N agreed to wear for the night had mixed up her measurements and the fit was all out of proportions. So, Y/N and Jamie had frantically started going through her closet to see what possible contenders there were for the night. Naturally, Jamie had wanted Y/N to wear her most revealing dress, but Y/N wouldn’t allow it. She insisted that such an outfit wouldn't allow her to dance as comfortably as something a little more sensible. The two compromised as Y/N finally settled for a calf length, flowy dress that was low cut and had cut outs around her midsection.

Thankfully, Y/N had made it to the venue on time to help set up, iced soy latte in hand—Jamie had insisted on the way over when she saw Y/N nodding off in the passenger seat. Magno had chewed Y/N out for having come in so early, again. He always told her they had things handled so she could literally “roll up with everybody else.” Y/N usually always replied how she liked to see everything set up before people arrived, anyways, so it was usually, really no bother. This particular day, though, she really wished she had taken her uncle up on such an offer.

The sun had started to set when people started flooding in. Y/N didn’t know how to act. Usually, she would already be pulling people into rooms and forcing them to dance with her, whether they liked it or not. She would circle around greeting friends and their plus ones, telling them what her favorite foods to order were and what drinks to try at the bar. With Harry coming, though, Y/N had to fight the urge to plant herself at the entrance just to catch a glimpse of him. Honestly speaking, despite her best efforts to speak with everyone who participated in her festivities, there were nights when a friend would message her the next day saying that they were sorry they weren't able to talk to her and to plan something in the future. She hoped that wouldn’t be the case with Harry, but the more people that started showing up, the more she had begun to be pulled every which way by her guests. Jamie had assured her that she would be on the look out for the male, but Y/N had thought that a little unfair and told Jamie not to worry about it and to enjoy herself, instead.

“Y/N! Odie wants you to head back to the kitchen for something special,” Jamie had come up behind Y/N while she stood chatting with some companions.

“Hm? Oh, okay,” Y/N seemed flustered as Jamie grabbed a hold of her hand and pulled her away from her friends, “what? Did he walk in?”

“Hm? Oh,” Jamie nervously chuckled to herself as the two continued walking towards the back of the venue, “eh... no... Odie really does have something for you, but I’m sure he’ll be here any minute.”

“He’s not coming,” Y/N sighed before shaking her head, “it’s really better that he doesn’t. I’d make a fool of myself.”

“Oh my God, stop being so dramatic,” Jamie began before the two were interrupted by one of Y/N’s acquaintances.

“Y/N, Y/N, Y/N,” came Daphne’s frantic chants as Y/N and Jamie turned to face the young woman, “you have to come with me right now.”

“Why? What’s going on?” Y/N furrowed her brow, thinking something else had gone wrong.

“Mikka just spotted him at the back entrance; come on,” Daphne grabbed a hold of Y/N’s forearm before pulling her towards the direction she had come from.

“Wait,” Jamie pulled Y/N the other way.

“Jamie!” Y/N yelped from being caught in the middle of such a tug of war.

“Sorry,” Jamie laughed before gaining her composure, “I feel like going over there now makes her look desperate.”

“What? No way!” Daphne rolled her eyes.

“It makes it seem like she had people watching for him,” Jamie reasoned.

“I mean, I kinda did,” Y/N shrugged.

“It does not! It’s polite to greet your guests,” Daphne argued.

“Yeah, but not the moment they step foot into the party! Shouldn’t he seek her out?” Jamie tried to dispute.

“He already has by coming in the first place,” Daphne narrowed her eyes and shook her head. The two friends had started going back and forth on what would be considered appropriate while Y/N’s head started to throb with all the decision making she had already had to do throughout the day, and the blasting music in the background. It was when Y/N looked up from rubbing her sinuses when she felt her heart skip a beat. Just a few feet away was Harry, stood speaking with some woman she didn’t recognize. In perfect Harry fashion, he looked jaw droopingly gorgeous. Y/N was sure if any other man on the planet had attempted to sport his outfit, they would have looked ridiculous. However, as always, Harry could pull anything off. She suddenly remembered the subject matter her friends were currently debating and hoped to God the music was too loud for him to overhear them.

“You guys,” Y/N interjected before the two females neared Y/N to better hear the words she spoke, “don’t look; he’s right there.”

“Oh, my God,” Daphne gasped as she immediately looked over to where Y/N had nodded.

“She literally said not to look,” Jamie scolded before rolling her eyes.

“I can’t help it; he’s the literal love of my life,” Daphne seemed to sob, “Y/N, you'd better go over there before he gets mobbed... by me.”

“Daphne’s right, go say hi,” Jamie nodded.

“But,” Y/N tried to buy some time before her friends pushed her away from them, closer to where Harry stood. Y/N tried to recover her balance on her heels from the push as she looked over her shoulder to see them giving her encouraging smiles and a thumbs up. God, she hoped he didn’t see that. As she approached the couple ahead, she couldn’t help but feel the lightest tinge of jealousy creeping over her at the woman that stood so closely to him. Then she started to feel as though she would be interrupting an intimate chat if she were to just walk up to the pair to say hello. She decided against greeting him as she tried to find the nearest person to glob onto before actually catching his eye. The way he smiled at her made her face burn and she knew she would have to think of something intelligent or interesting to say—quick. She watched as he said something to the woman he was with before she nodded and left him. This was sure to mean that she could approach him... right?

“Hi!” Was all Y/N could muster as she smiled at Harry. She wasn’t sure if she should go for the hug or handshake, and so there was this awkward carrying on where Harry had gone in for the embrace while Y/N stuck out her arm. Then came the same predicament only with the two swapping actions. Harry finally grabbed Y/N’s hand in his own hands to greet her.

“Sorry; didn’t want to interrupt over there,” Harry nodded over to where Daphne and Jamie were not even attempting to hide the fact that they were trying to eavesdrop on the two.

“Oh, no! That’s fine; they were just telling me whether or not I should head over here and whether it would make me look desperate,” Y/N rolled her eyes.

“Desperate?” Harry cocked his head, his lips grinning.

“They like to overanalyze everything; they think just because you’re here tonight, you want to get in my pants or something,” Y/N laughed before realizing what she had just said and really wishing she hadn’t come in so early. She must have been delirious; she could get real open and chatty when she was exhausted. All Harry could do was laugh.

“Sorry, must be a little delirious or something. I haven’t even had a lick to drink tonight,” Y/N nervously laughed.

“S’fine! Sorry, I was late! I forgot what traffic can be like over here on the weekend,” Harry rolled his eyes, “but thank you for inviting me!”

“Oh, it’s no problem,” Y/N anxiously laughed, “James didn’t want to come?”

“No, s’too much of a scrooge,” Harry laughed, “you look great!”

“Please! Look at you,” Y/N beamed as she gave him a once over.

“Eh,” Harry shrugged his shoulders, rolling his eyes, “they’re not stretchy pants, was afraid I’d overdressed.”

“Oh, my god! I can’t believe I said that. No, Latinos live for this kind of stuff; it’s like their Paris Fashion Week, so you might be a little underdressed, if anything,” Y/N joked as her wrist went to nudge at Harry’s arm.

“Is that what it is?” Harry laughed as he looked around at all the people that had started looking their way.

“Yeah,” Y/N noticed the eyes that had gravitated their way, “have you gotten anything to eat or drink, yet?”

“No! Didn’t know what to get; there’s so much,” Harry shook his head as his brows raised on his forehead.

“S’not much of a time without a drink! C’mon, let’s get you something yummy,” Y/N smiled as she took hold of Harry’s hand before looking behind her to see her friends still staring at them. She mouthed that the two were headed to the kitchen. The two nodded and shoed them away. It was when Harry had caught up to Y/N’s pace that she had realized she was still holding onto Harry’s hand.

“S’really big!” Harry shouted over the music as Y/N let go of his hand, making Harry look down at the loss of contact. He had debated reaching out for it once more, but thought it ridiculous.

“A lot of people couldn’t make it,” Y/N laughed as they neared the kitchen.

“What?” Harry gaped as he followed. There were fewer people the further they had gotten from where they had met and he felt like Y/N could hear him without having to yell.

“I mean,” Y/N shrugged as her name was suddenly called out and she looked around to wave back at whoever had called her name, “I kinda copied the idea from an event we had back home, and they had twice as many rooms.”

“Twice?” Harry marveled at the girl walking beside him.

“Yeah,” Y/N nodded, smiling at the memory, “it was nice, though! All the vendors in town would pitch in and serve, and even though there were twice as many people, everybody knew each other. Newcomers always came back the next year, and it was just a nice little event everybody looked forward to every year, you know?”

“I’d have liked to see that,” Harry shook his head as the two finally entered the kitchen. Y/N was about to respond but was interrupted.

“Y/N!” Came a shout from somewhere in the back, making Y/N pick up her pace towards the man that had caught sight of her.

“Odie!” Y/N gasped as she spread her arms open to the man before he took her in his arms and leaned back to pick her up from the ground.

“You’ve come to say hello to your amiguinho?” Odie widened his eyes at Y/N.

“Claro!” Y/N’s smile radiated her familiarity with the man before going to plant a kiss on his cheek.

“Ah, meu bem, have you brought me someone to cook for?” Odie asked, the sound of Y/N’s heels landing back on firm ground as he looked around her body at Harry.

“Oh, Odie, this is my friend Harry,” Y/N looked back and signaled for Harry to come closer, “Harry this is Odie.”

“Nice to meet you, Sir Styles,” Odie’s eyes squinted as he smiled at the young man as he stuck out his hand for Harry to take.

“Nice to meet you, Odie,” Harry reciprocated his smile.

“O que ele disse?” Odie furrowed his brows at Y/N.

“Ah, you’ll have to speak up, Harry. Ele é surdo,” Y/N spoke up to Odie, laughing when he elbowed her side, “he can’t hear very well out of his left ear on account of always yelling at people.”

“Feh,” Odie swiped a palm through the air, “makes a good chef.”

“Excuses,” Y/N narrowed her eyes and shook her head, “Jamie said you had something for me.”

“Sim! Vem, vem, vem,” Odie ushered the two over to another section of his kitchen, cursing a few people that had not moved out of his way. Y/N had apologized to those he cursed as she trailed behind Odie. She spoke so softly, if he hadn't been trying, Harry wouldn’t have known she was apologizing.

“I know you couldn’t have them last time, but I finally worked out how to make it sem laticínios,” Odie paused as he turned to the couple behind him, “no dairy.”

“Pasteis de nata?” Y/N gasped as her eyes fell to where a pan of pastries on the counter.

“Sim! Yes,” Odie’s eyes shrank as he gave her his biggest smile, “tente! Try! Please.”

“Odie, obrigado! It smelled absolutely celestial last time, my mouth was watering. I almost threw away cinco anos de veganismo to taste it,” Y/N explained as she reached to grab two of the pastries from the pan before handing the other to Harry.

“What is it? Paste de,” Harry paused as he looked between Y/N and Odie for the answer.

“Pasteis de nata,” Odie answered, as Y/N had already popped the pastry into her mouth, laughing because she couldn’t speak with her mouth so full.

“Pasteis de nata,” Harry repeated before Odie nodded with glee.

“Try!” Odie insisted before Harry went to taste the food.

“Oh, Odie,” Y/N moaned, her eyes rolling, “you’ve outdone yourself! Está perfeito! Que gostoso! E a receita?”

“É um segredo,” Odie shook his head, “you ever want; avise-se me! Call me!”

“S’delicious,” Harry gaped as he went in for another bite.

“I know,” Odie grinned, crossing his arms over her chest, “your new boyfriend?”

“Hm? Oh, no,” Y/N quickly interjected, shaking her head, “actually, can we take one for his date?”

At this point, somebody had called for Odie somewhere within the kitchen and he had cursed under his breath before turning back to Y/N.

“Meu bem, sempre um prazer. Pleasure, pleasure,” Odie gave Y/N another smile as he went to sandwich her hand in his own, “you’ll come and visit, soon?”

“Of course,” Y/N nodded as she laid her free hand on top of his, “muito obrigado por ter vindo.”

“Ah, your Portuguese está melhorando,” Odie shook his head at Y/N, “much better, meu bem. Harry! Foi um prazer conhece-lo; lovely to meet you. Conte-me, what’s your favorite food?”

“Eh,” Harry chuckled, trying to think of something, “eh, I’ll eat pretty much anything, so long as it’s not meat.”

“Okay,” Odie nodded, pensively before being yelled at once more for assistance, “Aff! Okay, I’ll make something and send out! Até logo!”

“Até logo! Thank you,” Y/N smiled as he sent a wave their way before rushing away. Y/N grabbed another small pastry and halved it to share with Harry.

“Date?” Harry scrunched his nose as he turned to look at Y/N, who had already taken a bite from her half.

“Yeah,” Y/N innocently nodded, her hand going to cover her mouth full, looking up to see Harry’s confused features, “the woman... you were speaking to? Before?”

“Oh,” Harry finally spoke after a few moments of trying to remember who he had been speaking to beforehand, “oh, no, that was just someone that just came up to me... you don’t know who it was?”

“No,” Y/N laughed at his expression, clutching her stomach as she did so, “sometimes people bring their friends that I’m not that acquainted with.”

“Ah,” Harry frowned as he put his hand on his hip, “s’that not scare you?”

“Not really,” Y/N shook her head, “it hasn’t been a problem, so far.”

“Well, wish I would’ve known that,” Harry commented with a little shrug of his shoulders.

“Why? Nobody ever asks, they just bring them,” Y/N took another bite from the dish Odie had made for her.

“Hate showing up to places alone,” Harry explained as he looked down at the half of the pastry Y/N had given him, “didn’t want anyone to think they had to entertain me.”

“Ugh, I know,” Y/N squinted and smiled as she bumped his hand with the back of her palm, “sorry, hope you don’t mind my company?”

“No, of course not,” Harry quickly shook his head before a silence came over the two.

“What? You don’t like it?” Y/N nodded toward the pastry he had been holding while blankly looking at her.

“No, s’great,” Harry smiled as he went to take a bite, “think it may be one of the best sweets I’ve ever had... What was it? That he was speaking?”

“Português,” Harry finding it endearing how easily the accent rolled off her tongue, “it’s a beautiful language, no?”

“Yeah... And you speak it?” Harry questioned as he watched her finish her half of the pastry. “No... at least not fluently. Well, it’s pretty close to Spanish, but m’learning little by little,” Y/N shrugged as she rubbed her hands together to rid them of crumbs, “hate him having to speak another language on my account, he tries so hard. Figured I could put some effort in, as well.”

“Yeah,” Harry nodded, knowingly, “s’cool.”

“You want some actual food, now? I’m already getting a tummy ache with all the junk food I’ve consumed today,” Y/N smiled up at him as he took another bite of the dessert. He laughed as he raised a fist to cover his mouth.

“Sure,” came his muffled response before Y/N nodded for him to follow her. They had made their way to another room where there were a few people jotting down orders and giving people estimates of how long it would take for them to get their food.

“What do you recommend?” Harry asked as the two looked at the various options on various panels of food.

“Everything,” Y/N sighed as her eyes seemed to look for something in particular, “do you like hispanic food?”

“Yeah,” Harry shrugged before Y/N turned to look at him.

“How much spice can you handle?” Y/N questioned, raising her brows at the male.

“Oh,” Harry laughed, “eh... a good amount, I guess?”

“Okay,” Y/N turned back to the menu, “the jackfruit tacos are al pastor and can be quite spicy, so is the pozole... eh, they do a great tamale with mole sauce on top. The pasteles are pretty good... Mmm, there’s a few curry dishes and Odie’s been trying his hand at a few Asian inspired dishes.”

“‘ve got just about everything, don’t you?” Harry wondered, shaking his head. “I don’t know, now. Everything sounds good.”

“How hungry are you?” Y/N asked, a grin pulling at the corners of her mouth.

+ + +

“This is fucking delicious,” Harry groaned out. He had just tasted the tamale Y/N had ordered earlier. It was not the first time he had uttered those words throughout the night. Y/N had ordered them “a little bit of everything” and he was surprised at how much of it the two were able to put away. Within twenty minutes, a platter had been served to them with small servings of various foods. Y/N had told him she had wanted to show him something and had taken all she could in her arms before he had taken the rest in his own. She had led him up a dark flight of stairs before kicking open a door that revealed the venue’s rooftop. The two had taken a seat on the edge of a skylight, the twinkling lights of San Francisco providing enough light for them to see what they were eating—the Golden Gate Bridge was somewhere off in the distance of the fog.

“Feel like you’ve said that about all of it,” Y/N laughed as she reached for the drink she had set in front of her criss crossed legs earlier. Harry had tried what she had called Ponche—a drink infused with cinnamon, apple, and various other fruits. It had proven to be too sweet for him, so Y/N had happily agreed to finish it.

“It just keeps getting better, though,” Harry attempted to explain, “and just when I think that I’ve tried the best, I’ll go back for something else and that’s great, too... How’d you get so many vendors, anyway? I saw one actually came in from LA.”

“Yeah,” Y/N smiled before Harry squints at her.

“You must be something to have people come out so far,” Harry commented with a shake of his head, “even restaurants have a limit to how much money gets shoved at them before they refuse such a long distance to travel.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Y/N shook her head and shrugged as he watched her arm poke from his blazer to grab more food. He had noticed the goosebumps poke through her skin when they first started setting up and had debated offering her his jacket. He liked Y/N. He thought she was sweet and nice to talk to but he didn’t want to be too, as he found Y/N liked to say, cheesy. He had offered, anyways, and the item had been graciously refused by Y/N.

“Then you’ll be cold, and what’s the good in that,” Y/N scrunched her nose, “I’m used to it, anyways.”

Harry would not have it and had made a great show of taking his blazer off before wrapping her in the remnant warmth of his own body. She had laughed (he realized he really liked the sound) and thanked him. It was then that Jamie had interrupted the two, apologetically delivering a sushi roll Odie had sent up before hurrying away—Y/N had rolled her eyes as she called out to her that she was welcome to stay. Jamie had refused and wished them a great rest of their night. As for the sushi roll, Harry had fallen in love. It had tempura carrots and sweet potato with cucumber and Harry was over the moon with the little sweet sauce that had been drizzled over it.

“I hope I don’t sound presumptuous, but you were a fan?” Harry asked as he reached for the Jamaica Y/N had urged him to try. It was a red hibiscus juice that was too bitter for his tongue at the first sip, but it had started to grow on him.

“Oh my gosh, yes,” Y/N furrowed her brows, “I’m surprised I didn’t pass out on the show.”

“Really?” Harry’s brows raised as he sat the cup back down in front of him.

“Yeah, why do you ask?” Y/N asked, cocking her head at him. She had grown suspicious that people had told him of her attempts to avoid him. She was sure Florence had outed her. “Dunno why, but I can’t peg you as the type,” Harry shook his head.

“Well, what's the type?” Y/N inquired as she popped another bit of tamale into her mouth. He had long been in awe of how she had substituted her fork for chop sticks.

“You know what I mean,” Harry sighed as he leaned back on his hands, his legs outstretched, “you were so calm on the show. Could’ve fooled me... Who was your favorite?”

“Oh my God, I’m not telling you that,” Y/N refused as she tucked some of her hair behind her ear.

“Must have been me then,” Harry narrowed his eyes at Y/N and nodded as he pursed his lips at her.

“Wow,” Y/N gaped as she turned to look at his snickering features, “a little full of yourself, aren’t you?”

“I mean, is there any other reason why you wouldn’t answer the question, Y/N?” Harry shrugged as he turned to look at Y/N. He liked how he looked with his blazer over her shoulders. It almost looked as if it was intentionally a part of her outfit.

“What if it’s one of the other boys and I just don’t want to risk you running off to tell them?” Y/N shook her head as she watched him pop a plantain into his mouth.

“Then Florence must have been lying when she told me you used to have posters of me up on your walls,” Harry shrugged, nonchalantly.

“Oh my God,” Y/N cried out, her hands going to cover her face before they dropped to reveal her annoyed features, “first of all, it was one and I only put it up as a joke.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” Harry laughed as the two reached for the last samosa. Harry tsked and Y/N squinted over at him.

“Don’t think just because you were a little fan, I’m just going to let you have it,” Harry shook his head.

“I will physically fight you,” Y/N shook her head.

“Jesus, give a boy a chance, won’t you?” Harry widened his eyes as he went to cough into his elbow.

“Rock, paper, scissors?” Y/N offered with a shake of her head.

“Okay,” Harry shrugged as he turned his body to face her, which she reciprocated. The two chanted the necessary words before Y/N’s hand landed as rock and Harry’s as paper.

“Ah,” Harry cheered as his larger palm went to cover Y/N’s fist, “best two out of three?” “Okay,” Y/N responded, closing her eyes before the two commenced with their antics. Y/N had won the second round, and for the third, Harry had used “fire,” which had started a bit of an argument.

“No, no. It’s called ‘rock, paper, scissors,’ Harry,” Y/N shook her head as she watched him rub his hands on his thighs.

“It’s fire! It beats everything,” Harry chuckled as he went to grab the samosa.

“Absolutely not,” Y/N playfully argued, “if that’s the case then I want another round where we’re using made up rules, that way I can use the water balloon thing.”

“Okay, Phoebe Buffay,” Harry muttered before giving the samosa to Y/N.

“Here,” Y/N chortled as she tore the turnover in half and handed one of the two to Harry, to which they tapped the two together in cheers.

“What’ve you been listening to lately? I feel like I’ve been listening to the same three songs for the past few months, and it’s getting pretty bleak,” Y/N stated as she looked on toward the city lights.

“Ooh, well I’ve kind of rediscovered my love for the lyricism of some of Joni Mitchell’s-” Harry began before Y/N tensed.

“Joni Mitchell?” Y/N’s brows had furrowed.

“Yeah,” Harry replied as he turned his head to look at her. There was an awkward pause where Y/N seemed to be mulling something over.

“Didn’t she... didn’t she do blackface on one of her album covers?” Y/N asked after swallowing her food, brushing some crumbs from her lap.

“Eh,” Harry didn’t know how to answer the question, “she said that she really identified with-”

“No,” Y/N shook her head, “I... I don’t know... I just feel like that’s not a good enough reason. She hasn’t experienced what they’ve experienced. I think... I think that’s kind of unfair of her to say.”

“Uh,” Harry trailed as he tried to think of what to respond before shaking his head, “no, that... that makes sense.”

There was a moment of silence where Harry wondered if he had just messed everything up.

“I’m sorry, I,” Y/N began before Harry went to fervently shake his head.

“No,” Harry voiced, “you’re completely right. I just... I guess I never thought about it like that, but thank you for bringing it to my attention. I never want to support someone... someone that isn’t... well, considerate, I suppose.”

“No,” Y/N also shook her head, “I haven’t read much more about it. Maybe she apologized... or something. Sometimes I overreact-”

“You didn’t,” Harry assured, his hand going to cover Y/N’s and Y/N couldn’t help but sigh a breath of relief. Her last boyfriend had always gotten so angry when she spoke about such things. It was a breath of fresh air to be heard by someone she admired so much.

“I liked putting a donation box at the front,” Harry quickly changed the subject, “s’a good idea.”

“Right?” Y/N raised her brows and nodded. “Wish I could take credit for it; but Jamie was the one that had suggested it.”

“Jamie seems real nice,” Harry commented as he went in for another bite of samosa.

“Yeah, she’s sweet,” Y/N smiled. The two sat in a comfortable silence where they listened as the song playing beneath them had changed.

“See,” Harry nudged her arm, “what’s this? I can never differentiate between different genres... is that not tasteful to say?”

“No, not at all,” Y/N shook her head, “I had trouble with it when I was younger. This sounds like it’s cumbia.”

“And how’s it danced? How is it different than, like, salsa?” Harry asked, going for the Jamaica, again.

“Mm,” Y/N hummed as she finished chewing and swallowing, “salsa tends to be more front and back, while cumbia is more to the sides, but there’s a few different ways to dance it.”

“Will you teach me?” Harry asked as he set down the cup of red liquid to his side.

“Yeah, sure!” Y/N smiled as she set down what was left of her samosa and slipping Harry’s blazer from her shoulders. “D’ya mind terribly if I lay it on the glass, here? S’okay if you do! Can put it back on. Don’t wanna get it dirty.”

“No, it’s fine!” Harry nodded before the two pushed up from their seat.

“Okay so you can do a simple two steps to either side like this,” Y/N began.

“Okay, but y’can’t poke fun at me, because I know I’ll look ridiculous,” Harry seemed to pout, his hands at his hips.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Y/N almost seemed to scorn before grabbing his hands and urging him to follow her steps, “there you go!”

“Yeah?” Harry asked as he stepped back to look at her feet. “You said there were a few ways; which do you prefer?”

“That I prefer? Mm, you almost want to think like your skipping,” Y/N explained as she crossed one foot over the other, “and then you kick this one out.”

“So you cross this one,” Harry followed as he looked at his own feet before looking to Y/N for further instruction.

“Yeah, and then kick that one out,” Y/N pointed to one of his legs before he followed her direction, “yep, just like that. Then you do the same on the other side. Mm-hm.”

“Just like that?” Harry asked as he carried out a slightly faster pace.

“Yeah! You’ve got it,” Y/N beamed before her hands went to bump his arms up, “and you’ve gotta move those arms. It’s like fifty percent of looking like you know what you’re doing.”

Harry laughed before inquiring on turns, which Y/N roughly helped him get an idea of how to lead a turn. It took a while but Harry was a fast learner. Before too long he was comfortably leading her in a turn, but was confused when Y/N started laughing.

“What? What’d I do?” Harry asked as he searched her features for an answer.

“No, nothing,” Y/N calmed from her previous fit of laughter, “this song’s just funny. He’s talking about marrying a fish, or mermaid, I guess.”

“A mermaid?” Harry cracked a smile at the explanation.

“Yeah, and they have a baby with the face of an angel but the tail of a fish,” Y/N snickers, “but soldiers came one day and accused him of eating her for breakfast. Sorry, it’s not even funny, I don’t know why I’m laughing so much.”

“Of eating her?” Harry gaped before laughing along with Y/N, as his hold on her slips. “What have you got me dancing to, Y/N?”

“Some sick, true crime episode, apparently,” Y/N laughs before Harry grabbed Y/N’s hand.

“I can do a bit of salsa,” Harry smiled with excitement, “and by a bit, I mean a teeny tiny bit.”

“Okay, let’s see it,” Y/N responded as Harry had tried to get her into a ballroom hold, “oh, damn.”

“What?” Harry laughed down at Y/N.

“This is, like, a hold,” Y/N widened her eyes, a soft smile forming amidst her features.

“What’d you mean?” Harry inquired, confused by her phrasing.

“No, it’s just, I’ve never been in, like, a ballroom hold for salsa,” Y/N shrugged, “that’s professional ish.”

“Stop,” Harry rolled his eyes, “how’d you dance it, then?”

“No! I didn’t mean it like that, I’ve just never seen it danced like that, but you learn something new everyday,” Y/N reasoned before bouncing in place.

“Now, I’m embarrassed,” Harry huffed out a laugh, “all I know is you go back and forth.”

“No! M’sorry! Didn’t mean anything by it,” Y/N pleaded, pouting out her bottom lip.

“Oy vey,” Harry rolled his eyes, “you asked for it.”

“What do you mean? S’not bad! It’s a basic salsa step, that’s all you need,” Y/N shrugged as he led her in the little step he knew.

“Yeah, but you were doing way more in that video James showed,” Harry responded.

“Yeah, but that’s a bunch of fluff, mostly for show,” Y/N pursed her lips and shook her head before Harry attempted a turn. It was the wrong way, but Y/N wouldn't call him out on it.

“Sorry m’not a better dancer,” Harry feigned a whimper.

“Me, too,” Y/N joked as Harry gaped at her.

“Hey,” Harry droned out, his features showing a bit of offense as he furrowed his brows at her.

“M’only kidding,” Y/N giggled.

“I’m really trying,” Harry whimpered out, once again, feigning offense.

“Alright, then. I already said you’re a fine dancer, no?” Y/N teased, making Harry's eyes widen in surprise.

“Okay, little Miss Show Off, what else can you show me?” Harry asked.

“You’ve got a real mean streak, you know that?” Y/N replied.

“I’m a dream,” Harry said in a matter of factly tone. Neither had noticed that they had started simply swaying back and forth. The music had changed to something quite slow, and Y/N assumed they had wandered over another room. Y/N had gotten distracted by the view of the city before she turned to see Harry staring at her, a little smile taking over his features. Y/N had a moment where she believed she had to have been stuck in some sort of fever dream.

“What else did you wanna learn?” Y/N stammered, breaking eye contact with Harry.

“Eh, this is quite nice,” Harry shrugged as he pulled Y/N a little closer, “like dancing white people music with you.”

“Please,” Y/N cringed, shaking her head as she fought the urge to laugh, “I can’t believe I said that.”

“I thought it was funny,” Harry shrugged as he went to carefully dip Y/N

“You know, if I didn’t know any better, I would say I’m living an actual sappy, cheesy, fan fiction moment,” Y/N teased as Harry held her body up with a palm to her back.

“I cannot believe you’ve read that smut,” Harry shook his head, mockingly disapproval.

“Why would you jump to that conclusion? I could have been into that cottagecore stuff,” Y/N defended.

“What the fuck is cottagecore? What? Is it people that like to have sex in miniature cottages,” Harry furrowed his brows before yanking Y/N’s body back up to him, where the two were forced to bump noses. This had caused the two to burst into a fit of giggles, Harry reaching out to grab a hold of Y/N’s shoulders and ducking his head to make sure Y/N was alright.

+ + +

“S’this it?” Harry seemed to whisper as he had pulled up to Y/N’s home, her looking out the passenger window to see the familiar sight of her home.

“Yeah,” Y/N sighed as her fingers went to press on the little button that would release the buckle of her seatbelt. Harry and Y/N had stayed on the rooftop for a while longer than either had anticipated. So, when Jamie’s sleepy features had appeared, inquiring as to how the two were, Y/N had jumped up, slipping Harry’s blazer off her shoulders as she tried saying she was ready to leave.

“Sorry, guys, ’ve just had a long day,” Jamie hung her head, apologetically, before going to look at Harry, “you can always talk to her tomorrow.”

“Jamie,” Y/N nervously chuckled as she began folding Harry’s blazer to return to him.

“S’fine,” Harry waved away her attempts to return the piece of clothing, “you can give it to me the next time I see you.”

“Oh, okay,” Y/N smiled as she hesitantly unfolded the blazer to slip back into, chuckling as she did so, “still warm.”

“Or you could drive her home,” Jamie droned, making Y/N’s eyes widen as her head whipped around to glare at Jamie, “you know... so you guys can keep talking. I didn’t want to interrupt your invigorating conversation about... what was it? Volcanoes on the moon?”

“They were a real thing,” Harry insisted, making Y/N smile and narrow her eyes at him, “but, yeah, if you want to head home now, I can drive her a little later.”

“See?” Jamie raised her eyebrows at Y/N before sticking her tongue out at her.

“Okay, well,” Y/N paused as she looked back at Harry, “only if you're sure.”

“Of course,” Harry seemed to sing along.

So, Jamie had made her way back to her vehicle as Harry and Y/N remained on the rooftop, continuing their random subjects of discussions. It hadn’t been long before Y/N had let out a yawn, and Harry insisted that he take her home before she fell asleep on the roof. It was a comfortable ride where Y/N would pipe up with random facts about her hometown as the passed different locations. Harry found it impossible when Y/N had told him the fortune cookie had been invented in San Francisco, but the way she spoke could definitely make him believe anything. He liked seeing her so animated about such random topics.

“Are you staying in town tonight? I really hope you’re not making the trip back tonight—even a flight’s like two hours, no?” Y/N cocked her head at Harry as he knuckled at his eye, one of his rings catching the moonlight and shining in Y/N’s eye.

“No,” Harry shook his head, “staying at a friend’s house and driving back tomorrow.”

“Oh, that’s good,” Y/N nodded her head. She was a little disappointed. In all honesty, if he had said any different, she most likely would have tripped over her hormones to offer for him to spend the night at hers.

“S’fine, really. S’cold out,” Harry spoke lowly and held his palm out in protest as he saw her begin to peel off his blazer, once more.

“It’s not that far of a walk, really,” the apples of Y/N’s cheeks were prominent with the smile she gave him, “thanks... well, it was nice seeing you tonight.”

“It was nice seeing you, thank you for inviting me. I’ve not forgotten our dim sum date at that one place,” Harry pointed a finger at Y/N, accusingly, narrowing his eyes at her.

“No, of course not,” Y/N laughed off his casual use of the term “date,” as she felt her face heat up, “let me know when you’re in town, again.”

“No, you let me know when you’re available,” Harry shook his head as he looked out his windshield.

“Oh, so the ball’s in my court, now?” Y/N teased with a nod of her head.

“Yeah,” Harry nodded, “don’t get me wrong, s’a lovely town... but I don’t come here very often. Don’t know many people, here.”

“Oh, well, if L.A.’s easier,” Y/N began, before Harry chuckled.

“S’not what I meant. I know L.A. makes you nervous,” Harry shook his head at her, knowingly.

“I don’t know why,” Y/N scoffed, “I have to work there so often, but I just hate it. It doesn’t really feel like home, you know? Like I know a lot of people, but it’s not like they’re... I don’t know.”

“No, I get it,” Harry’s lips barely curved into a knowing smile, “d’ya mind terribly if I did something?”

“What?” Y/N questioned before Harry reached over to grab the side of her face in one of his warm palms before he carefully leaned in to connect their lips. She let out an odd noise, it was somewhere between a squeak of surprise and the beginning of sentence. Though it had taken her by surprise, she couldn’t help but smile at the taste of the sweet Jamaica he had slowly started warming up to. He had been the one to pull away, his eyes still closed when she opened hers.

“Sorry,” Harry dimpled, shaking his head, and at this proximity, Y/N could see the little crinkles at the corners of his eyes, “was that okay?”

“Yeah,” Y/N beamed as he finally opened his green eyes to stare into hers, both trying to read emotion on the other’s expression, “was lovely.”

“Yeah,” Harry slowly blinked at Y/N.

+ + +

The next day, ordinarily, would not have been anything special for Y/N. She had worked for a few hours and then had gotten to spend some time with some friends before returning to her home to tidy up. What had been different, though, and what had made all she encountered ask her why she seemed so happy that particular day had everything to do with Harry.

She had waken up to someone at her front door. It had scared her, at first. She hadn’t been expecting anybody so early. She had grabbed a sweater and slid her arms through the sleeves as she bounced down the stairs, brows furrowed as she ran her fingers through her hair, her fingers catching on the knots that had formed overnight. She had unlocked her phone to see who was standing at her doorstep, but had been confused as she saw an empty frame. She debated whether it was worth opening the door to check if whoever had rang the doorbell had rushed away. Something compelled her to do so, anyways. The door had swung open and something on her stoop’s little table captured her attention. There, on the little table, were white lilies wrapped in some brown paper, a little cup of hot liquid, and a small, familiar pastry bag. She knew who it was from judging by the little cup of hot chocolate she had told Harry about the night before. She looked up in time to see a car that resembled the one she rode in the night previously turn around her block.

Later that day, while she had been sorting through her Excel bill sheet on her laptop, her phone had rang out, making her look at the top corner of her screen for the message that had come through.

How was your morning?

Y/N smiled as she set her laptop aside and grabbed her phone. She hadn’t set Harry’s contact information up in her laptop, so it had read his phone number instead of the name she had assigned him in her phone’s contacts. A feeling stirred inside of her as she had the sudden urge to see his face. She wondered if it would be too much to FaceTime him... She had a habit of moving things along too quickly and falling too hard, too fast in the past. They had only just met, but he had been the one to bring her breakfast that morning, afterall...

😂 Was that you? Didn’t want to assume...

She bit her lip in anticipation as she watched the little gray bubble appear and disappear a few times. She was thankful she had disabled her read receipts in the past when the next message swooped in.

Good Gravy Miss Daisy. Hard one to woo, aren’t you, mate?

... don’t like that I used that phrase... please ignore :/

Y/N laughed out at the message that had come directly after the first. She could not believe he had actually took the time to type out the emoticon instead of just using the built in keyboard on his phone for emojis.

I wasn’t about to make an entire fool of myself! If I had thanked you earlier and it wasn’t you, I would have been mortified, you noodle!

A few moments went by, and nothing. Not even the little bubble she had seen the previous time. She had decided to lock her phone and get back to the task she had been doing, picking up her computer and setting it on her lap. She had gone through a few more bills before she looked down at her silent phone to her right. She frowned as her hands went to tie her hair up in a ponytail. She had just pulled the elastic off of her wrist to complete her ponytail when both her phone and her computer rang out. She instantly recognized the sound before she even saw the application pop up on her computer. She yelped out as she quickly tore out the elastic from her hair, and grimaced. She had probably damaged a few strands of hair for being so aggressive, but there was no way the ponytail had been as neat as she would want if she were to FaceTime with Harry. She knew she looked disheveled. She had been out and about with makeup all day. She knew the liner she had put on earlier that morning had probably smudged and transferred onto her lower lash line. She knew the lipstick she had rubbed onto her lips had probably left remnants in the cracks of her lips. She would have wanted a little more notice to be able to look presentable, at the very least. But if she had fixed all the things she had wanted, she would have missed her opportunity to accept Harry’s call. So, she figured letting her hair down would be good enough. It wasn’t long before she had clicked on the “Accept” button and had waited for the call to connect. The little sound that signaled a connection rang out and Harry’s features popped up on her little computer screen. Y/N wanted to squeal at how adorable the young man looked. He was in a gray hoodie, but his little curls poked out of the pulled hood. His lips seemed to glow compared to his puffy and soft, pale features—as if he might have just woken from a deep slumber.

“Sorry!” Harry seemed to be laughing, “is it too late? Figured you were responding to my messages...”

“No! No, I was just doing some... work,” Y/N shook her head as she made herself more comfortable on her couch.

“Oh, okay, good,” Harry nodded as he rubbed at his face, “and why’d you call me a noodle? What does that mean?”

“What? You’ve never been called a noodle?” Harry smiled at the laugh he had become so familiar with the previous day.

“Can’t say that I have,” Harry furrowed his brows.

“Ugh, that was like eighty percent of my childhood entertainment,” Y/N sighed as she tried not to look up at the little frame that showed what she looked like. She hoped she didn’t look too messy. “But thank you for breakfast! It was delicious.”

“What breakfast?” Harry furrowed his brows at her. Y/N widened her eyes at her screen. He had asked if she had gotten anything special earlier that morning. How could he not have left those flowers and food at her stoop? Who else would it have-

“M’joking,” Harry rolled his eyes, “sheesh.”

“I’m sorry! It’s been a long day... But thanks, just the same. And for the lilies! They were lovely. They definitely brightened up my office this morning. How’d you know they’re my absolute favorite?” Y/N narrowed her eyes at her computer screen that had displayed his features.

“Lucky guess,” Harry shrugged his shoulders through the lie. He had wanted to say that he knew, but knew that would most likely make Y/N feel compelled to ask how he had known if the subject hadn't been breached the previous day. He didn’t feel like explaining how he had basically been cyber stalking her a few months previous.

“Meanwhile, that bakery... you may’ve turned me onto something,” Harry widened his eyes.

“Did you actually go in?” Y/N questioned, her brows raising out of shock.

“Yeah,” Harry slowly responded, narrowing his eyes, “wait, why?”

“I mean,” Y/N laughed, “I just can’t imagine you... walking into a panaderia on Mission.”

“Why?” Harry seemed to pout.

“No reason,” Y/N shrugged, clearly finding the idea amusing, for some reason, “did you get what I was saying about the smell being other worldly, though?”

“Yeah,” Harry responded, defeated, “you’re right... it smells a lot warmer... or maybe sweeter? It just might be better than any other bakery I’ve stepped into.”

“It’s all the extra cholesterol they put into their bread,” Y/N joked, “did you get anything for yourself?”

“Yeah,” Harry responded, lifting his chin as he spoke, “eh, I got one of those pink concha things and the hot chocolate? The ch... champ... champ-”

“Champurrado?” Y/N smiled, thinking it absolutely endearing at how hard he was trying to pronounce the term.

“That’s it!” Harry smiled.

“So, what’d you think?” Y/N pressed.

“Eh, was too sweet for me,” Harry grimaced, his dimple making an appearance as he pursed his lips, “but I feel like if I hadn’t gotten it with coconut milk, I would get the appeal.”

“Coconut milk? No, way! You’ve gotta try the almond milk!” Y/N widened her eyes.

“I know, you told me last night, but I usually prefer coconut milk,” Harry commented, “suppose that’s what I get for not listening to you.”

“I may not know a lot, but I know my plant alternative milks,” Y/N perked up, “how bad was the aftermath of the concha?”

“God awful,” Harry scoffed, “I made the mistake of trying to eat it on the way home and it was everywhere. There’s still sugar all over my floor mats and the passenger seat.”

“Oh, no,” Y/N burst into laughter, “m’sorry!”

“Don’t be,” Harry calmed from his own laughter, “was worth it, all the same.”

“You’ll have to get something different, next time. There’s one with pumpkin filling that’s,” Y/N kissed her fingers, making Harry laugh out.

“I have to slow down,” Harry shook his head, “m’getting pudgy.”

“Nonsense, bread goes straight to the heart,” Y/N made a face as though what Harry said could never be imaginable, “besides, pumpkin’s healthy. There’ve actually been studies that it can help boost your immune system!”

“Okay, then, it’s settled,” Harry shrugged, “I’m only eating bread for the rest of my life, so long as it’s stuffed with pumpkin.”

“Sounds like an absolute dream; sign me up,” Y/N sighed out.

“How was your day? What did you do? Anything interesting?” Harry questioned.

“It was fine,” Y/N shrugged, “work and then dinner with friends. Nothing too crazy.”

“Anyone I know?” Harry wanted to take it back as soon as he the words escaped his mouth. He felt it a bit too intrusive, given the little that they knew of one another. He wondered if he had made things awkward, but Y/N seemed unfazed.

“Mm,” she she seemed to think of the answer, “I don’t think so. Not unless you know Michelle Kelvin?”

“Is she related to Maisie?” Harry wrinkled his nose at his screen.

“Yes! They’re second cousins... twice removed... or something weird,” Y/N laughed with a shake of her head, “but yeah! She was supposed to come with us, but couldn’t last minute.”

“She’s cool,” Harry smiled.

“She really is. She always remembers my birthday and sends me a little care package every year around Thanksgiving,” Y/N made that expression he noticed she did a lot. It was whenever she was endeared by something, she would pout out her lower lip, but looked as though she were smiling. He had looked over at his image to see he looked absolutely smitten with whatever it was he was speaking to and wanted to wipe the look off his stupid face.

“Yeah,” Harry nodded his head as he suddenly felt his cheeks start to burn, and he hoped it didn’t translate through to her screen, “she’s nice.”

“I wish I could be more thoughtful,” Y/N shook her head and Harry bit his tongue. He had wanted to comment on how she really was, based off of the stories he had heard from mutual friends. Rob had told him of his wife falling in love with this rare album that she couldn’t find anywhere, and after mentioning it once to Y/N, had found it in the mail a week later with a thank you note from Y/N for dinner. Another one of many anecdotes was how she had volunteered to pick up one his friend’s daughters from school when they couldn’t find anyone else and had brought chocolates and violets for the little girl because her name was Violet. It was after this encounter that Violet would fervently continue to ask for Y/N as a babysitter.

“How was the drive back?” Y/N had interrupted his silence.

“Was fine; got home earlier than expected,” Harry features brightened as his brows momentarily rose, “was able to watch that documentary with the pig thing.”

“Isn’t that crazy?” Y/N laughed, remembering how flabbergasted Harry been when she had told him of a documentary that had explained how researchers were working on facial recognition with pigs the night before.

“Freaky,” Harry closed his eyes and shook his head, “and those birds!”

“I know,” Y/N’s eyes widened as she gaped, "it’s kinda creepy.”

“Yeah! Like, who came up with that? Who was like, let me make some animals that know the weather better than these dense humans,” Harry continued to marvel, and all Y/N could really focus on was how grateful she was to be able to see this side of Harry. She had always dreamed up this imaginary persona that she felt matched up with what interviews and social media had portrayed of the male. But she had made up her mind that she liked this version much better.

+ + +

Y/N had gotten to Magda’s house pretty early—about 6 AM, to be exact. It had been tradition for about two years, now. Y/N had met Magda at a local bookstore when Magda had approached Y/N, asking about what the kids these days were reading. They had instantly bonded over their love and appreciation for classic novels—Jane Austen’s Emma, in particular. Ever since, the two had kept in close contact and Magda had become a sort of adoptive grandmother to Y/N. It had been when Y/N had voiced her yearning for some traditionally homemade tamales that Magda had voiced her proficiency in cooking the dish and had offered to make Y/N a batch as long as she brought over spirits and a good movie. It had become a monthly event, and this time, a newcomer was to be involved.

“So,” Magda beamed as she ferociously scrubbed at a big pot she kept hidden away until moments such as these, “what’s he like?”

“Harry?” Y/N raised her brows as she pulled apart some jackfruit.

“Yes,” Magda encouraged.

“He’s nice,” Y/N nodded and looked up to see Magda knowingly grinning, “s’pretty wonderful, actually.”

“Oh,” Magda gently nodded.

“He’s... I don’t know... thoughtful? Is it foolish to think that’s such a unique feature in a man?” Y/N shook her head.

“It’s a bit disappointing that more men aren’t described in such a way,” Magda shrugged and looked up as she twisted the handle of her faucet.

“That’s true,” Y/N nodded, vacantly looking ahead, “it’s just that... he makes me feel... heard?”

“Unheard of,” Magda teased.

“I know, right,” Y/N laughed, “but he looks into your eyes when you’re talking and... I don’t know... he makes you feel like you’re the only person he’d want to be talking to and as if... what you say actually matters to him. And it’s not just me! He does it with everyone I’ve seen him around... He’s very validating and surprisingly open minded.”

“You’re pretty open minded,” Magda noted.

“No,” Y/N shook her head, “not as much as he is, I don’t think. He’s so accepting so long as there’s a good means to an end... if that makes sense. I don’t know, perhaps it’s just the fact that I’ve admired him for so long.”

Magda was about to respond when a knock came at the front door.

“Come in,” the two sang out in chorus before the sound of the doorknob being turned and the sound of the door being pushed open alarmed the two to Harry’s arrival.

“S’this a no shoes household?” Harry asked as he waited at the entrance for a response.

“It’s a whatever you prefer house,” Magda laughed as she looked over at Y/N, “s’very considerate.”

“I told you,” Y/N mumbled as she straightened in her chair.

“Thank you for asking, lovey,” Magda beamed as Harry quietly made his way into the kitchen.

“Oh, s’no problem,” Harry piped up as Y/N turned to smile at him from her stool set at the kitchen island. “Hi,” came Y/N’s greeting before Harry went to give her a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

“Morning,” Harry almost seemed to mumble as he grinned down at her before remembering the two weren’t alone, “you must be-”

“Magda,” the older woman rubbed her palms on the little apron Y/N had gifted her about a year previously, “so nice to meet you, Harry.”

“Thank you so much for having me,” Harry approached where the woman stood before extending his hand.

“Oh, it’s my pleasure,” Magda shook her head, “we love having new friends over and cooking for them. It’s such a nice way to show your appreciation for someone, you know?”

Y/N felt her cheeks burn as she knew Magda most likely meant nothing by the statement, but it somehow felt too intimate for Harry to know she appreciated him.

“Completely agree,” Harry nodded his head, still holding onto Magda’s hands.

“Oh, honey, you were right,” Magda called over her shoulder to a clueless Y/N.

“About what?” Y/N scrunched her nose.

“He does make you feel heard,” Magda actually giggled, making Y/N softly chuckle behind the two.

“She’s talking about me? What else has she said?” Harry raised his brows before smirking over at Y/N.

“Magda, did you see where I put the peppers?” Y/N pretended not to hear him as she feigned searching for what she had requested.

“Don’t want you thinking I’m only here to freeload your food. What can I do to help?” Harry turned back to meet Magda’s already adoring gaze.

“Y/N,” Magda gasped before turning to see Y/N’s confused features, “marry this man.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Y/N stated after her initial shock and embarrassment, “you two would be a much lovelier little couple.”

“Oh, hush,” Magda rolled her eyes as she pushed past Harry to grab a hold of the peppers Y/N had supposedly misplaced, “here are your precious missing peppers.”

In no time at all, Magda and Harry had finished making the maza. Magda made a big deal out of how big Harry’s hands were, saying that he was born to knead the dough-like substance that would carry the faux meat they made their tamales with. This, of course, had elicited a small anecdote of how Harry had once worked in a bakery when he was younger, back home. The two had then proceeded to bond over missing their respective homelands and it wasn’t long before Harry was inviting Magda over whenever she felt like a visit and vice versa.

“So, I’ve seen some with like... a different wrapper? Like paper, almost?” Harry furrowed his brows.

“Those are made with corn husks,” Y/N nodded her head as the three worked on loading the ingredients of a tamale into a banana leaf.

“Ah,” Harry seemed to nod in realization, “so how different will these taste? Will they taste like banana?”

“No,” Magda responded with a shake of her head, “it just makes it more... more...”

“Succulent?” Y/N voiced.

“Yes,” Magda nodded, “tender. I tend to think the corn husk tamales can get a little dry, so I like using the banana leaf to give it a little kick.”

“Huh,” Harry nodded, “how many are we shooting for?”

“A lot,” Magda laughed, “we’ll be here all day, lovey. We don’t expect you to hang around all day with us.”

“I don’t mind,” Harry shrugged with a little smile on his face.

“Well, be warned, this one likes making hundreds to give to the friendly... and not so friendly,” Magda grinned as she elbowed Y/N.

“Oh my gosh, don’t bring that up or he’ll never come back here, again,” Y/N tried to refrain her laughter.

“What? Why?” Harry furrowed his brows as he looked between the two laughing friends.

“Y/N likes to go around town to give some to people in need of a good meal,” Magda beamed over at her long time friend, “but this one time-”

“You can’t let this change the way you see San Francisco, though,” Y/N pleaded as she stopped her handwork to look over at an already amused Harry.

“No, of course, not! Harry’s a good boy; he wouldn’t think of it,” Magda shook her head before proceeding, “anyways, nothing bad has really come from it... except for this one time. This one man that was sleeping on the sidewalk and this one goes up to hand him a few tamales when he wakes up, screaming! He had a syringe in one of his hands and charged at her. So this one starts running, and he ended up chasing her to the car!”

“What?” Harry’s eyes bulged out of his skull upon hearing this tale, searching both the female’s features for some sort of validation.

“He couldn’t really run... so I wouldn’t say he chased me, exactly,” Y/N frowned.

“No, honey; he chased you,” Magda shook her head, “but, anyways, she’s not allowed to approach strangers alone, now. We have another good boy that accompanies us when we want to distribute these bad boys around town.”

“You still go?” Harry gaped, ignoring the tinge of jealousy that had bubbled up within him as he wondered who would accompany the two and if he thought the world of Y/N like he did.

“Oh, yeah,” Magda assuredly nodded.

“That’s wild,” Harry shook his head. It was another one of those moments. Another moment where he could feel his heart swell with an emotion he couldn't quite pinpoint for Y/N. He wanted to say it was admiration, because what else could it be after such a story. Somewhere deep inside, he knew better.

Harry had kept his promise, he had stayed pretty much all day. He had helped the two make enough tamales to last a lifetime, or in this case, enough to feed the entire city. When it came time to try them, Y/N had nervously told him it was okay if he didn’t like them while Magda assured him that he would love them and was right. He could not believe the texture and taste that he had earlier been wary about. Magda was insistent on replacing each tamale that he consumed, which had proven detrimental to his physical comfort. After about four, he started to feel pretty weighed down. Luckily, to wash it all down, Magda had made a pitcherful of Jamaica because she knew how much Y/N liked it. Harry’s features had brightened so much that it sent Magda into a fit of laughter at the mention of the beverage. It had been a nice little end to their day—to enjoy the labors of their hard work.

Magda had loaded a few dozen tamales into some cute little Tupperware with ducks on them and had instructed him on the ease of freezing the dish if he wanted to save them for a later date. He knew this wouldn’t be necessary, as he knew he would be attempting to act in Magda’s and Y/N’s image and distribute them. It was after Magda had hugged and kissed him on the cheek that he was led out to the front of the house by Y/N.

“Thank you for coming today,” he was met with Y/N’s sleepy smile as he turned from stepping through the front door and down a step, “hope we didn’t work you too hard.”

“Not at all,” Harry shook his head as he went to hug Y/N’s abdomen, “liked it. I think Magda may be the love of my life.”

“Mine, too,” Y/N’s smile deepened.

“You sure you don't want a ride home?” Harry inquired, pouting out his bottom lip the way she had a few nights previously.

“Nah,” Y/N shook her head with a shrug of her shoulders, “thank you. You know the offer still stands if you’re too tired to drive. Believe me, Magda will be more than happy to have you stay here tonight.”

“I think I’m okay,” Harry stated with a little nod of his head, “have to feed Matt’s cat.”

“Right,” Y/N shook her head, “forgot.”

“Get some sleep,” Harry pulled Y/N in to kiss the wrinkle between her brows away, “I’ll see you soon, yeah?”

All Y/N could do was nod in her tired state.

“Yeah?” Harry seemed to bump his body into her own to get a response.

“Yeah,” Y/N laughed.

“Good,” Harry dimpled with satisfaction before going to press his lips to Y/N’s.

+ + +

“What are you doing?” Came the voice on Y/N’s speaker. She had been thrown across her couch, making endless loops with some yarn and two knitting needles.

“Knitting, watching Princess Diaries, and mourning the death of my youth,” Y/N rambled, as she ended one row of stitches to look over at her television screen.

“Oy. The first or second one?” Harry questioned as Y/N went back to her stitches.

“The one with Chris Pine,” Y/N wiggled her brows to herself.

“Ooh, what a dreamboat,” Harry sang out, making Y/N laugh out.

“He is quite nice to look at,” Y/N commented with a sigh.

“I suppose—if you’re into that tall dark and handsome type,” Harry quickly snapped, Y/N’s brows furrowing. Was there a tinge of jealousy in his tone?

“I mean,” Y/N reasoned, “I guess I kinda am.”

“Well,” Harry cleared his throat, “just feel like you wouldn’t have much in common with him.”

“Why? I think we’d make a good match,” Y/N frowned as she paused her actions once more.

“He’s an old man! Already has salt n’pepper hair,” Harry rebuked.

“S’kinda hot, though,” Y/N shrugged to herself.

“You little weirdo. What are you doing this Saturday? Thought we could go get some dim sum,” Harry suggested.

“Eh,” Y/N sucked in her lips as she seriously considered canceling her plans to hang out with Harry, “I have a wedding thing this weekend. Starts on Thursday; s’one of those three day weddings with the bachelorette party, rehearsal dinner, yada yada yada.”

“Oh,” came a pause from Harry’s end, “that sounds fun. S’it in town?”

“No; it’s in L.A.,” Y/N explained, “are you free on Sunday?”

“Oh... yeah,” Harry’s tone sounded odd but she didn’t want to question it; she felt it too soon in their relationship (if you could even call it that) to inquire, “yeah, d’you wanna try something here?”

“Yeah, what would you recommend?” Y/N asked as she finished another row of stitches.

“There’s this great sushi place in Malibu, if you’re up for that,” Harry suggested, “or there’s a good Indian place around the corner.”

“Ooh, you said sushi and my mouth already started watering,” Y/N laughed.

“Sushi it is, then,” Harry chimed.

+ + +

Y/N had been pretty tuckered out as she sat at a little round table, alone, watching everybody around her seeming to be having the time of their lives. Her feet had started aching from the heels she had slipped into at the beginning of the day, her hair had long sagged in the deliberately messy bun she had styled her hair in, and her chest had expanded and collapsed pretty jaggedly as she caught her breath from her friend, Angie, twirling her around the dance floor. It was when she was laughing at the drunken groom trying to lead his bride in a simple turn that she noticed her phone light up her open clutch. Normally, she wouldn’t have checked the notification, but something told her it may be the boy she had been talking to as of late.

She had posted a photo much earlier of the bride placing her veil over Y/N as she was digging into her pasta entree, snapped by the same Angie that had been twirling her earlier. Y/N found Harry had reacted to the photo and sent a message.

That looks fucking amazing. How do you feel about pasta instead, tomorrow??

p.s. you look really pretty 

Y/N couldn’t help the huge smile that came across her features as she peered down at the message. She had been typing out a little response when somebody had plopped down next to her.

“What happened to no phones?” Alex, one of Y/N’s oldest companions narrowed his eyes at her.

“I’m just checking in on something,” Y/N laughed as she hastened typing out her message.

“Absolutely not,” Alex grabbed a hold of Y/N’s phone and tucked it in his pocket.

“Alex!” Y/N gasped as she plunged for the device.

“You're missing Michael trying to seduce Paul,” Alex nodded towards some of their friends laughing at a slightly tipsy male.

“What else is new?” Y/N rolled her eyes. “Last year he tried that with you and was horrified when you actually locked lips.”

“Somehow that boy forgets that I’m a raging homosexual every year, and I’m sick of it,” Alex shook his head, “I will give this back to you if you come shake what the good Lord gave you for an entire song.”

“Alex,” Y/N started before he gave her a glare.

“We haven’t danced one song together and you’ll be heading home soon, I know it,” Alex pouted.

“Okay,” Y/N gave in, knowing she could finish her message to Harry afterwards.

“C’mon, girl,” Alex reached out his hands for Y/N to take. She could only laugh as he led her over to the dance floor before he had dropped into a squat to one of the last notes of a Saweetie song before a salsa blasted over the speakers.

“Aw,” Alex groaned before he stood to his full height.

“You said,” Y/N began, more teasing, if anything.

“I know what I said,” Alex rolled his eyes as he proceeded to take Y/N’s hands, once more, before leading her into a turn. It wasn’t long before Michael, another companion, had whipped out his phone and had gone around tormenting people with his flash video recording. A few dancing couples had shoved their hands in front of the camera lens before he had approached Alex and Y/N. Alex had seen the camera pointed at them and had pulled Y/N to him before he had dipped Y/N and pulled her back up, before going to peck at Y/N’s lips. Y/N had thought nothing of the video as she laughed and went to hug Alex as he shouted something at Michael’s giggling features. The two had known each other for years and a peck here and there was the norm between the two companions. Y/N had not thought of any repercussion. She did not think there might have been a certain male laying in his bed, the glow of his phone’s screen illuminating his smiling features as he opened one of his friend’s Instagram stories to see the girl he had been talking to being pulled to some man’s chest before locking lips with him. She had not thought of how his little smile would fade as he kept tapping on the left side of his screen to replay the video—to replay the way she smiled and hugged onto the strange male’s body. No, Y/N hadn’t thought very much of how that might look.

+ + +

The next morning, Y/N was surprised to not hear from Harry. She had started getting ready, however, knowing Harry would eventually message her with an address, because he had promised to do so earlier that week. She had finished slipping on her shoes when she went to check her empty lock screen. The place they had settled on was about forty minutes away, and if she was to make the time they had initially agreed upon, she would have to leave any minute. She decided to send Harry the following:

Morning, sunshine! ☀️ We still meeting up for lunch?

She figured she could start on her journey. Even if Harry cancelled, which she didn’t foresee, she could just enjoy the drive, maybe get some coffee... She had been about fifteen minutes into her drive when her phone rang out. The message read out went something along the lines of:

Hey, something came up last minute. Can’t meet today, rain check?

Y/N couldn’t help but instantly feel a little blue as she responded.

Of course; hope everything is okay. Take care!

Harry did not respond to this message and Y/N thought it a little odd, but figured whatever had come up must have been important. Y/N had driven past Malibu and caught sight of a cafe on her way back. She figured she deserved a treat and had decided to pull in for some coffee and maybe dessert if they had anything good. She had been quickly seated and had been browsing the small menu when the sound of another party was alerted with the ding of the bell attached to the front door. Y/N had looked up out of habit and had thought nothing of the couple that had entered before she glanced back at the menu before realizing why one of them had looked so familiar. Trailing behind a pretty looking woman was the person she had originally had plans with that morning—one Mr. Harry Styles. Y/N hastily went to raise her menu to cover her face, praying that he hadn’t seen her. She couldn’t help but peek over the top of the menu as she watched the two follow a waiter to the outdoor seating just in front of her. Of all the coincidental instances she had encountered in her life, she couldn’t think of one more embarrassing than the one she sat in. Her shock and horror had slowly started to morph into discontent as she watched the two speak. It was clear that the female had more than platonic interests in Harry by the way she leaned forward, hanging onto every word that came from his lips... the same ones that had been pressed to hers not that long ago. She could not believe her eyes, and she suddenly felt as if she was going to be ill.

“Good morning! How are you?” Y/N’s view of Harry and his companion was suddenly interrupted by a tall woman that had stepped in front of Y/N’s seat.

“Oh, eh,” Y/N glanced at the menu, wondering how rude it would be to excuse herself. She had considered staying and watching the two, but she felt that would be an enormous invasion of Harry’s privacy... that and she couldn’t stand the idea of him seeing her—alone, at that. “I’m so sorry, I... I have to go.”

“Oh,” the waitress stepped back as she watched Y/N collect her things, “is anything wrong?”

“You have no idea,” Y/N sent a glance out to the terrace where Harry sat intently watching his companion speak, “s’nothing, sorry, thank you so much for your time and help.”

+ + +

Y/N hadn’t been back to the house she had been staying at for very long. She had arrived and had marched straight to the living room where she allowed herself to plop down to lay on the carpeted floor. As she stared up at the ceiling, she wondered why such a string of events had bothered her so much. She told herself again and again how she wasn’t jealous but peeved at the principle of canceling on her to see someone else... but she knew the green eyed monster was involved. She had absolutely no right to be jealous. She and Harry had just met, and he was allowed to see other people if he wanted to. It wasn’t as if she had committed to only seeing him, either. Nobody had asked her, but she was free to see other people. Oh, but she couldn’t get over how much she hurt over seeing him with someone else. It was something different to know he was seeing other people, but to actually see it? She felt positively icky. She had grabbed her phone in attempt to distract herself when she noticed a message that had been delivered a little while ago, most likely a few minutes after leaving the cafe.

Was that you?

She chewed the inside of her cheek as she stared at the message from the person that had been tying her stomach in knots. She locked her phone and laid the phone on her abdomen, not knowing if she wanted to reply. She almost never wanted to speak to him, again... but she knew she had no valid reason for it.

Where?

She had decided to play ignorant, as she wished he would leave her alone; at least for the time being. Didn’t he have that woman to entertain himself with?

Are you still in town? Fancy a visit?

Y/N couldn’t muster the energy for a visit. She couldn’t imagine how she could possibly refrain from asking who he had been with. So, she did something she wouldn’t normally do.

Did whoever came up get resolved? I’m actually heading back home today and I need to pack 😕 rain check?

Y/N wasn’t one to be petty or passive aggressive, but something about the situation had just rubbed her the wrong way. She had almost hoped that perhaps her message had deterred Harry’s friendship, and that she would never see him again. She wasn’t surprised when she did not receive a reply from the male and had went about her day, just a little bit more melancholy than she usually would have been leaving town.

+ + +

A few months had come and gone, and Harry would have liked to say that Y/N had become a distant memory, but that was nowhere near the case. He thought more about her than he would like to admit. He knew he had struck a nerve when he had gotten her last message, and had become slightly infuriated by it. How could she have been so snappy when he had been the one to reach out after she had been out locking lips with some random bloke? Sure, she had seen him out with one of the women that his friends had been trying to set him up with, but he had asked to see her, damn it. Wasn’t that enough of a gesture? He had been out with a few different people since, in attempts to forget the female, but it was all to no avail. How could anybody compare to the strange little person he had eaten so much food with on a rooftop all that time ago?

Nevertheless, he had continued seeing her in his friends’ posts. She looked good, as usual. Something so simply classic about the clothes she wore and her disposition in each snapshot. He had noticed in the past that she would never pose smiling, but as of late, she had smiled in almost all the photos he saw of her. He wasn’t sure why such a small detail had resonated with him. She had cut her hair and lightened it since the last time he had seen her. He wanted to believe she had done so because of him. He had read something about women changing their hair after meaningful relationships, but he didn’t want to flatter himself. It had been when he had been visiting an old friend and sipping on a glass of sauvignon blanc—it hadn’t been that good if he was being honest—that his friend had really thrown him for a loop.

“Have you seen this?” Andrew nodded at the title of the film he had landed on. Harry usually never had his phone out when visiting good friends, but he had been waiting on a message from his sister. He had looked up from his messages to find, to his surprise, Y/N’s face staring back at him.

“S’this new?” Harry mumbled, still staring at Y/N’s features. She had been looking straight into the camera when the photo had been taken, and from the look of her surroundings, it looked like some sort of 60s mystery film.

“Says it was released this year,” Andrew shrugged, “don’t you know her or something?”

“Not really,” Harry cleared his throat, “looks stupid.”

“Stupid?” Andrew furrowed his brows at Harry.

“What?” Harry glared over at him.

“Don’t think I’ve ever heard you use that word,” Andrew grinned.

“Well, it does, doesn’t it?” Harry nervously laughed, feeling a tinge of guilt creep over him.

“S’got that guy from X-Men in it... Think she looks nice,” Andrew shrugged as he took a drink from his glass, “wouldn’t mind if I made a pass?”

“A pass,” Harry scrunched his nose, “won’t get very far with that kind of thinking.”

“Alright, mate,” Andrew rolled his eyes as he continued scrolling through the streaming service, “I get it.”

“Well, there’s nothing to get,” Harry shook his head, “didn’t mean anything by it; go for it.”

+ + +

“Magda?” Y/N had called from the older woman’s kitchen. She had let herself in with the key that Magda had made for her and had worried when she could’t find the lady on the lower level of her home. “M’up here, lovey,” Magda hollered from the second floor of her home.

“Sorry, m’late,” Y/N vocalized as she treaded up the stairs before finding Magda sat on the floor, kneeled atop a gargantuan white canvas with paint splatters here and there. There was the outline of a young woman’s face ever so slightly traced out from what Y/N could see.

“No, no, honey! You're fine,” Magda shook her head as she looked up from the piece, making Y/N smile at some stray smeared paint across the older woman’s forehead, “eh... the books are over there on that chair over there, if you want to take ‘em today.”

“Oh, thanks,” Y/N glanced over her shoulder before going to look back at the painting, “this is huge.”

“Uh, yeah,” Magda seemed to nervously chuckle as she wiped her hands on her overalls. Y/N noticed the elder was avoiding making eye contact with her as she kept looking down at the painting or at her hands.

“Who’s it for? You never do projects this big unless someone’s hanging it in the Guggenheim or donating a pretty penny,” Y/N commented as she walked around the canvas edges to get to the chair Magda had pointed out earlier. All Magda could do was offer another nervous chuckle as she went to push some straggle hairs from her face. Y/N could sense the awkward air between her and the woman she came to trust like she trusted her own mother.

“Sorry, I don’t mean to pry,” Y/N shook her head, feeling her cheeks burn out of an embarrassment she couldn’t pinpoint.

“No,” Magda went to shake her own head as she let out a heavy sigh, “no. You’re not prying, honey. I’m the one that’s making the situation awkward... Um... It’s... it’s for Harry.”

Y/N could not find words at the mention of his name. She didn’t know why she felt so bothered... so betrayed. There was no reason that Magda could not speak to Harry. She really didn’t even know the circumstances surrounding Y/N’s broken communication with him. All Magda knew was that they weren’t speaking, and Y/N knew it was silly to feel so deeply about her contact with the person that had wounded her pride a while back... but Magda was family. Shouldn’t that count for something? Y/N sure wouldn’t be friendly with somebody Magda had shunned, which would be impossible because Magda didn’t believe in holding grudges.

“Oh,” Y/N finally choked out, nodding her head as she broke eye contact with Magda to pick up the books that had been set on the chair she had been earlier directed towards.

“If this bothers you, honey,” Magda began.

“No,” Y/N shook her head, rolling her eyes up to the ceiling as she sighed out, “it doesn’t. I’m being silly.”

“It’s just... he came by last week to make tamales,” Magda began, making Y/N’s head jerk up to meet her gaze, “he said he knew you were taking that trip and wanted to ensure that we didn’t break tradition. And he got a glance of some of the work I did when I was younger and he begged for me to make him something and that he’d pay whatever I asked, and I said I would do it if he donated to this stem cell research fund I’ve been working with, and he said he’d be thrilled, and I just couldn’t say no to such a generous donation and-”

“You don’t have to... justify it,” Y/N shook her head, “I’m sorry. I... I’m just being... childish, and... I guess I’m still sore at him for being so... I don’t know. I’m just happy you got such a big donation.”

“Look, he didn’t tell me what happened,” Magda shrugged her shoulders after a pause came between them, “but whatever it was... he’s moved past it.”

“That’s good,” Y/N tightly smiled as she opened the book that was on the top of the stack.

“If you don’t want me to do it,” Magda offered before Y/N shook her head once more.

“Do it,” Y/N nodded, “please. Don’t pay any attention to me; I’m just being... it doesn’t matter. I think you should do it.”

“Are you sure?” Magda pressed, her eyes searching for her answer in Y/N’s eyes.

“Of course,” Y/N nodded.

+ + +

Y/N had had a few. She wasn’t stumbling or slurring her words, but she was feeling quite toasty. She had been invited to some party, some celebration for someone she didn’t know and had been delighted for some excuse to get all gussied up and have drinks with some friends... Friends that had disappeared about thirty minutes after their first drink, but that was no worry. Y/N had soon found some drunken girl that had globbed onto her after claiming she looked better than Naomi Campbell did on the 1995 Chanel spring runway. It hadn’t taken too long for the two to find a permanent dancing partner in each other as the two had clasped hands as they sang along to almost all the songs that had blasted over the speakers. They had just finished shouting lyrics to one another before the girl yelled something about having to go back to her friends.

“You should come with me, I have this really cute friend who’s single and ready to fuck whoever crosses his path,” Glenda, Y/N’s new drunken friend, droned.

“Okay, but food first! I’m starved! You want anything?” Y/N yelled over the music before Glenda asked for a shot before pointing to where a group of her friends were sat. Y/N didn’t think much as she loaded her plate with the cucumber salad she had been eyeing all night. There hadn’t been too much food for her, most all dishes had featured some animal product, but she wasn’t one to complain too much about it. She debated whether she should make her way back to the table she had originally been sat at to see if any of her friends were there, but she liked meeting new people and had a strange goal for taking the opportunity to make new friends. So, she had forced herself over to where the girl had plopped down, Glenda’s eyes lighting up at the sight of the shot glass in Y/N’s other hand.

“Thanks, girl!” Glenda beamed as Y/N handed her the glass.

“How’s the cucumber salad?” Came a familiar tone from the other side of the table. Y/N wished she had just gone to sit alone at the table she had originally been sat at, even if that meant she would be alone.

“Hey, Harry,” Y/N smiled as she shoveled a fork full of cucumber into her mouth.

“This is my friend I was telling you about,” Glenda grabbed at Y/N’s arm with excitement, wiggling her eyebrows, suggestively.

“Ah,” Y/N laughed, remembering Glenda’s words about her cute, promiscuous friend.

“What were you telling her?” Harry’s words were drowned out by the man next to him rising to make his way over to where Y/N had been.

“M’Andrew,” the man stuck his hand out for Y/N to take.

“Nice to meet you,” Y/N smiled as she juggled to hold her cucumber salad bowl in one hand and shake the male’s with her other, “Y/N.”

“We were just talking about you the other day,” Andrew leaned closer to Y/N’s ear.

“Really? Why?” Y/N furrowed her brows.

“Your movie came up while we were browsing on Netflix,” Andrew smiled, “and Harry, here, had nothing but good things to say about you.”

“That’s nice,” Y/N smiled at Harry before turning back to speak to the male that had approached her.

Harry couldn’t believe his eyes. He had legitimately thought Andrew was kidding that day; he didn’t think he would have to sit and watch his friend talk up the girl that he had been so invested in a few months previously. He did tell him to “go for it,” but it still felt wrong. He hated the way she smiled at him and seemed to tune out everyone else to pay attention to what he had to say. Harry knew Andrew, he didn’t have much interesting to say. He hated how sour his mood had suddenly become as he watched them over the rim of the glass he had raised to his lips. He knew it was unhealthy, but he couldn’t help but to start comparing himself to Andrew. He was a little taller than he was, but wasn’t that nice... He had to refrain his jaw from dropping as Andrew extended his open palm for Y/N to take before Andrew led her to the dance floor. He had lost visual on them and he couldn’t help what happened next.

“Glenda,” Harry seemed to bark.

“Yeah?” She innocently responded, furrowing her brows at Harry’s fixated features. He had nodded towards the crowd of people dancing, causing Glenda to squeal with delight. None of their friends had danced with her all night, or had danced, period. Harry didn’t get why they would go to a party just to sit and try to talk over loud music, as he usually enjoyed dancing around a few bodies after a few drinks and had even taken Glenda out a for a few songs, but he had lost interest pretty quickly on the dance floor as a pretty girl had been sat back with his friends. In any event, it was with great force that Glenda had pulled his arm as she led him to the dance floor where a bunch of bodies had been dancing to a Drake song. It was coincidental that Glenda had led him to where Y/N and Andrew had been dancing. Y/N had noticed him, but Harry acted the ignorant. He couldn’t help but become distracted by Glenda when she had started spanking him before he turned to dance along to the music with her. It was a bit hard for Harry to watch what was happening with Y/N and Andrew as they had been dancing behind him. He had tried turning Glenda so that he could get a better view, but it had not worked as she would shimmy back to their original positions. He would occasionally make a big show of making a turn, but it was more purposeful than anybody could really know. A song Harry didn’t recognize came on and Glenda screamed and pointed behind Harry, at who he had assumed was Y/N. Harry hoped to God he wouldn’t turn around to see anything too jarring between her and Andrew; he didn’t think he could handle that. Thankfully, though, Glenda had pushed past him as she went to grind on Y/N’s tummy, making him laugh as Y/N had raised her bowl and kept eating her cucumber salad and allowing Glenda to keep grinding on her. If Y/N hadn't been involved, Harry might have gone back to the table and people watched. However, Y/N was involved, and she was giggly and cute, and he had missed her. So, he stayed and danced alongside Andrew before Glenda stopped grinding her rear on Y/N and turned to look at Harry, a grin playing at her features. He knew she would try to do the same to him, and he couldn’t have that in front of Y/N. So, he took the initiative to turn and rub his back on Glenda, earning a few cat calls from her as she grabbed a hold of his hips and tried to shake them. All Harry could do was laugh as he turned back around to grab her hands so he could turn her.

“Wait, I’m gonna puke!” Glenda sobbed as she grabbed on Harry’s forearm.

“Oh, no,” Harry frowned as his arm slipped around her back, trying to support her as her fist went to her mouth.

“I’ll take care of it,” Andrew rolled his eyes as he grabbed a hold of Harry’s shoulder as he spoke into his ear, “this one hasn’t stopped looking at you.”

“Maybe I should take her,” Y/N yelled, as she went to grab at Glenda.

“No, s’okay! You stay and dance with Harry,” Andrew shouted as he took a hold of a woozy Glenda.

“It’s fine, I can take her,” Y/N shook her head.

“I’m gonna take her outside for some fresh air,” Andrew explained. Y/N looked over at Harry, and he somehow knew she was worried about Glenda’s safety with the male she had just met. Harry knew even with his reassurance, Y/N would still have been worried.

“I’ll take her, s’fine,” Harry yelled as he grabbed a hold of Glenda’s arm and started for the door.

“M’sorry,” Glenda continually apologized as the two made their way out of the building.

“S’okay,” Harry rubbed at the female’s back as the two stepped out into the breezy night air. It wasn’t long before Glenda had retched into a nearby shrub, Harry holding her hair for her as he tried not to look at the sick coming out of her mouth.

“Oh, good!” Came a voice from behind him, making him look over to see Y/N hurrying toward them with Abby, one of the friends he had been sat with.

“I’ll take her home,” Abby sighed once the two met Harry, “I’m tired, anyways.”

“Glenda, I have your jumper,” Y/N commented as she held out the sweater in front of her, “ooh, s’cute.”

“Thanks,” Glenda laughed as she stood to her full height, fisting the corner of her mouth before Y/N helped her into the piece of clothing.

“C’mon, Glen,” Abby rolled her eyes as Harry passed Glenda to Abby.

“Can you get her to the car?” Y/N doubtfully asked.

“Oh, absolutely,” Abbie nodded, “this happens every weekend. I would have a gold medal if it was a sport in the Olympics.” “Oh, okay, then,” Y/N smiled as she rubbed Glenda’s arm, “s’nice meeting you.”

“You too, girl,” Glenda lazily smiled, “did I get any puke on you this time, Abby?”

“No,” Abby sighed as she looked down at her heels, “not yet.”

“You okay to drive?” Harry inquired.

“I’ve been dry for a year, now,” Abby furrowed her brows at Harry.

“S’right, sorry,” Harry shook his head, wearily.

“S’alright. Well, was nice meeting you, Y/N. We’ll do this again, yeah? Well, hopefully not the whole puking thing,” Abby laughed.

“Of course,” Y/N smiled as her fingers went to tuck her hair behind her ear, Abby and Glenda turning to make their way to their car.

“You two have a good night,” Abby sang before continuing to lead Glenda to her car. 

There came a moment where Harry and Y/N stood still, Y/N watching Glenda and Abby as Harry watched Y/N. After watching her sigh, Harry had been caught staring as she turned to look up at him.

“What?” She innocently questioned.

“You hungry?” He asked, his mouth only slightly smiling at her.

+ + +

“Here ya go,” a tall brunette waiter had set two waters and laminated menus on the table Harry and Y/N had been seated at before turning on his heel to leave the two.

“How’d you know about this place?” Harry asked as he picked up one of the menus and glanced over the options.

“Oh, uh, my dad and I used to come here every year for one of his work meetings,” Y/N answered.

“For his work meetings?” Harry’s brows pressed towards his hairline.

“Yeah; he was in this like... society of engineers... Basically a bunch of geeks getting together every few months to talk about quantum physics or something along those lines... We’d always get in so late on the first day and we’d be starving, but there were never a lot of places open. This place always was, though,” Y/N smiled as she looked around the room, “we would never run out of conversation here, even though we had spent the entire day in silence on the way up here. S’weird. Haven’t been here in a while.”

“Why not? Does your father live far away? You don’t bring him here anymore?” Harry innocently asked.

“It’d be kind of hard for him since he’s passed away,” Y/N smiled. If it had been anyone else, Harry would have thought the comment a bit snippy. For some reason, he felt she was trying to make a joke of it. For his sake; he didn’t know.

“Oh, m’sorry,” Harry offered his condolences before being met by a short pause.

“No, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it to come out like that,” Y/N’s smile softened before she shook her head and went to look at the menu to change the subject, “they have excellent spring rolls here.”

“Sorry to say it, but I can’t stand them,” Harry narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips.

“Oh, me, either,” Y/N laughed as she put her menu down, “I ate too many once and threw them up. I can’t eat them, but I appreciate them.”

“Ah, that’s valid. I just hate basil,” Harry shrugged as he stole another glance at her. He felt nervous, all of a sudden. He hadn’t felt nervous on the drive over, or when Y/N had to scoot closer to him while waiting to be seated because the entrance was small and a couple needed more space to exit the establishment. He hadn't been nervous when he got the chance to catch a whiff of her hair to find though she changed her hair, she still used the shampoo that left it smelling so nice. “You’ve changed your hair.”

“Hm? Oh,” Y/N pursed her lips as her palms went to flatten her hair, “yeah... it looks weird.”

“I like it,” Harry commented, without looking up from his menu.

“These bangs are a bit much,” Y/N sighed out as she allowed her elbows onto the edge of the table, her chin going to rest in the palm of her hand.

“I think it looks great,” Harry furrowed his brows.

“M’not... fishing for compliments or anything,” Y/N shook her head.

“Know that,” Harry nodded, “just think you look really good.”

“Oh,” Y/N’s lips barely smiled, “thanks.”

“What else do you recommend, because everything looks good to a person that hasn’t eaten since breakfast,” Harry sighed.

“Their burger’s scrummy,” Y/N suggested, “you can get either fries or these really great avocado fries... they also have this amazing pad thai.”

“Pad thai and burgers? Am I wrong to be a little nervous?” Harry looked up at Y/N, doubtfully.

“I mean, yeah,” Y/N laughed before shrugging her shoulders, “but I think great things come from things that make you nervous.”

“Alright, alright,” Harry sucked in his lips, “but if it’s not, you owe me another dinner date.”

“Oh, this isn’t a dinner date,” Y/N shook her head.

“It isn’t?” Harry questioned from behind his menu.

“No, at least, not like that,” Y/N shook her head as she went to sip from the water that had been set before them earlier.

“Like what?” Harry cocked his head at Y/N.

“You know,” Y/N rolled her eyes.

“No, I don’t know. Clue me in,” Harry stated before grabbing his own glass and sipping water from it. For some reason, Y/N could not take the way he peered at her over the rim of his glass and had to break eye contact—such an innocent thing felt much too intimate.

“Never mind,” Y/N shook her head.

“No, now I want to know,” Harry smirked, “now that I think about it, Andrew did say something about you not being able to take your eyes off of me tonight.”

“Oh, did he?” Y/N’s brows rose, her lips curling into a smile.

“I mean, my arse does look really good in these pants,” Harry spoke before shaking his head and bursting into laughter, “please forget that I said that.”

“No,” Y/N laughed, “that will live rent free in my mind forever.”

“Fine with me,” Harry calmed from his fit of laughter, “so long as you tell me what you meant before.”

The two were interrupted when the handsome waiter from before came by to take their order. Harry fought the jealousy that started creeping in when the waiter started blatantly flirting with Y/N in front of him. He had no right to be jealous about someone that didn’t belong to him. It wasn’t long before he had finally left them with one last "my dear” being thrown at Y/N.

“So?” Harry pressed. “What?” Y/N asked out of confusion as to what Harry was referring to.

“What’d you mean? Why isn’t this a date?” Harry questioned.

“Oh, sorry to disappoint, but that topic is closed, my friend,” Y/N emphasized, hoping he would get the hint.

“Friend?” Harry’s teasing mood turned somber.

“Yeah,” Y/N nodded, trying to hide her own disappointment.

“Alright, then,” Harry sighed in defeat as he twiddled his fingers, “how’d you know Glenda?”

“I don’t,” Y/N shook her head as she looked up from her clasped hands before her.

“Then how,” Harry trailed off, his brows pinched together.

“We only just met tonight,” Y/N explained.

“Huh,” Harry voiced with a slow nod of his head, “so, what’d she tell you about me?”

“Why’d you wanna know?” Y/N knowingly grinned and Harry knew he was done for.

“Dunno,” Harry shrugged as his gaze dropped back down to his glass, “was just curious.”

“Alright, then,” Y/N sighed, looking up to the ceiling as if doing so would help her recall what Glenda had said any better, “said you were really cute.”

“That’s not so bad,” Harry breathed out a sigh.

“You sound relieved,” Y/N commented, narrowing her eyes at the male.

“Do I?” Harry innocently questioned.

“Yeah,” Y/N nodded.

“Hm,” Harry’s brows rose and fell as he went to take another drink from his water.

“’Course she also told me you were ready to fuck whoever crossed your path,” Y/N nonchalantly spoke, resulting in Harry choking on his sip of water. Y/N couldn’t help but laugh out as she reached for a napkin to hand him.

“She did no such thing,” Harry’s response was muffled as he wiped his mouth.

“I know what I heard,” Y/N spoke with a nod of her head, “and she specifically said-”

“I got it the first time, thanks,” Harry interrupted, his skin turning crimson red.

“Oh, there’s no shame in it,” Y/N rolled her eyes, “must be fun.”

“M’not like that, usually... you know that,” Harry furrowed his brows.

“Yeah,” Y/N’s laughter softened, “also said you were single.”

“What happened to friends, huh?” Harry grinned.

“I,” Y/N’s jaw dropped before laughing out, “I was just saying. I was trying to distract from your embarrassing ass comment.”

“Uh huh, okay. Sure,” Harry narrowed his eyes at Y/N, “what about Andrew?”

“What about him?” Y/N’s laughter converted into a small smile as she looked at her finger running across the table.

“What’d you think of him?” Harry was met by a shrug from Y/N. “Don’t seem too impressed.”

“He’s nice, but I didn’t really get to talk to him that much,” Y/N explained.

“Ah,” Harry nodded, “well, don’t think you’d like him very much for too long.”

“Why?” Y/N questioned, furrowing her brows.

“He’s no good at it,” Harry shrugged, nonchalantly.

“At what?” Y/N inquired, still clueless.

“At crocheting scarves for his nan, what else?” Harry rolled his eyes, Y/N still not understanding. “At it, Y/N.”

“Oh,” Y/N finally seemed to understand as her furrowed brows softened before her features scrunched up once more, “oh. Well, that’s crap. He’s kinda cute.”

“Well,” Harry shook his head, “all I’ve heard are complaints.”

“Unless you’ve bedded him, I don’t think you have the right to say,” Y/N cocked her head at Harry.

“Who says I haven’t?” Harry questioned.

“Mm, I don’t see him being your type,” Y/N scrunched her nose.

“My type? Who’d you think my type is?” Harry asked, hoping she would say something along the lines of herself.

“Hm,” Y/N closed one eye as the other looked up, “either a real man’s man, like a logger or something... or an old, handsome sugar daddy type.”

Harry couldn’t help the laugh that had come from his belly at her words.

“I’m right, aren’t I?” Y/N smiled, knowingly.

+ + +

It hadn’t been too late by the time Y/N had trudged through her front door, Harry trailing behind. She was happy to be home. Even with the short amount of time she was away, she missed her little home and the scent of potpourri mixed with the remnant aroma of that one Apple Toddy candle that never seemed to burn out. She had dropped her bag on the little bench she had by the door before bending over to undo the straps of her shoes.

“Make yourself comfortable,” Y/N spoke as she peered up at Harry to find him taking in his surroundings.

“Thanks,” Harry smiled as he looked down to see her pull off her heels and throw them beneath the little bench she had stopped by. After finishing his meal and having to voice how much he liked it to a knowing Y/N, Y/N had asked where Harry was staying. He had said he was staying at a friend’s house over an hour away, and Y/N couldn’t let him drive such a long distance so late in the night. It didn’t have to take much convincing for Harry to accept the offer, as he had wondered what the inside of her home looked like ever since dropping her off so many nights previously. 

“Lucky for you,” Y/N sighed out as she walked up the stairs that led to the main level of the home, “I bought a pajama set that was grossly mislabeled online; I think it’d fit you just fine!”

“Okay,” Harry laughed as he wondered where to put his shoes. She had tossed hers underneath that little bench, but there was a door to the side, which he assumed was a closet.

“What’s wrong?” Y/N asked from above.

“Eh,” Harry cleared his throat, “s’it matter where I put m’shoes?”

“Oh, no,” Y/N shook her head, “wherever’s fine.”

“Okay,” Harry said under his breath as Y/N disappeared out of sight. As Harry treaded up the steep stairs to the upper level, he was overwhelmed with the scent of cinnamon... maybe vanilla. He had smelled something wonderful upon entering her home, but it became much more warmer and sweeter when he stepped foot on the last step. He instantly thought he liked the layout of the small little home. Off to his right, there was a little living room that led out through siding doors onto a spectacular little balcony with a view of the city’s night lights twinkling in the distance. Straight ahead seemed to be a dark kitchen. To his left, a hallway was illuminated by a few plug in night lights. He thought better than to invite himself into her bedroom and had furthered into the living room. He had been peering down at a rug that he wished he could rub his bare toes against when nearing footsteps had made him turn to see Y/N approaching him.

“They’ve been tucked away for a while, but,” Y/N voiced as she looked up from the pajamas she held. Harry wondered why she had stopped in her tracks while Y/N thought how surreal it was to see Harry stood in the middle of her living room, toeing at the rug she had just purchased. “They should be pretty comfortable... at least it felt soft when I last tried it on.”

“Thanks,” Harry smiled as he approached her, his hands going to take the pajamas from her hands. It was when he noticed her looking intently at his face that he worried something was wrong. Had she suddenly felt uncomfortable with him in her house? God, he hoped he didn’t make her feel uncomfortable. “S’everything alright?”

“Hm? Oh, yeah,” Y/N spoke softly as she seemed to snap out of whatever trance she had been in, “sorry.”

“What for?” Harry’s eyes seemed to search her own for the answer.

“I don’t know,” she smiled and shook her head. Her senses were suddenly overcrowded by what she assumed was his cologne—something between vanilla and ginger.

“Where can I change?” Harry asked as he looked behind her, towards the hallway she had come from.

“Uh,” Y/N shook her head once more, trying to regain her focus, “first door on the left.”

“Alright, thanks,” Harry smiled as his finger tips went to brush at her hand. The simple touch seemed to stay constant even when he passed her to retreat into the room she had instructed him to. She wondered if maybe he would just stay in her spare bedroom after changing into the pajamas she had provided. She padded into her kitchen to pour a glass of water as she looked out into the sea of yellow dots through her kitchen window. She had been slowly sipping on the liquid when she heard Harry approach her.

“Sleepy?” Harry asked as he lingered in the threshold separating the kitchen from the other rooms.

“Not really,” she lied.

+ + +

“Who’s Fabio?” Harry asked, pulling out another one of Y/N’s vinyls from the stand that also held her record player. Y/N had been laid out on the couch, her legs thrown up, over the side as she threw her head back to see what Harry had been talking about.

“That’s Antonio Solis, you boob,” Y/N gasped as she flipped over to her belly.

“Who’s he?” Harry scrunched his nose as he turned the record cover back around to take a better look.

“He’s, like, a totally famous artist,” Y/N explained, “well, he was in a really famous band—that’s them. The Bukis.”

“What does that mean in Spanish?” Harry asked, looking up from his place seated on top of a throw blanket Y/N had tossed to him so that he wouldn’t have to sit directly on her cold, hard wood floor.

“I don’t really know,” Y/N furrowed her brows, “I don’t know if it means anything, actually.”

“Are they any good?” Harry inquired, raising the record.

“They’re famous for a reason, Harry,” Y/N teased, “you can put it on, if you want.”

“What’s your favorite side?” Harry asked as he rose to his knees. They had first  listened to a man named Joao Gilberto who Y/N had marveled at him for not knowing. He was able to recognize one song as “that song they always play in the elevator,” which had caused Y/N to gasp out in horror before laughing out one of those laughs he had missed so much. The kind that wasn’t inhibited by self-consciousness or restraint. It was goofy, but so endearing, somehow. Then, Harry had recognized a Van Morrison album and had replaced the record. They had listened to a few more as Harry read out some of the record’s liner notes.

“B,” Y/N responded, resting her chin on her crossed arms before her. It still hadn’t set in as she watched Harry struggled to remove the previous record and replace it with the new one. The way his fingers moved did something for her. She wasn’t sure if it was the sight of his bigger hands doing something her smaller ones usually did or if it was the nice contrast of his sun kissed skin to his various colored rings on each of his knuckles. Y/N hated the other odd string of thoughts that ran through her mind. All she could think of was if she had been murdered a few months previously, investigators would not have found Harry Styles’ prints in her home... What in God’s name compelled her to think such morbid thoughts? She continued to watch as Harry released the needle and sat back on his heels, listening to the first few notes of a song she remembered from her childhood.

“Groovy,” Harry commented after a few lyrics passed before he started dancing, pretty goofily if Y/N had any say in it. He had struggled to push up to his full height as he started dancing towards Y/N reaching out his hands for her to grab. She hesitated, knowing full well how dancing with this little foolish boy would affect her once again. She couldn’t help herself, though, as behind her speculative gaze there was nothing but admiration. She had reached her hand out and had been pulled from her couch to dance around her living room quiet sloppily.

“What are they saying?” Harry asked as he went to turn her.

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh as the two continued to listen to the song.

“What?” Harry asked.

“Eh... he’s saying how he fell in love with someone while they were dancing,” Y/N shook her head, “as much as it may seem, I’m not trying to say anything, here.”

“Shame,” Harry raised his brows before he suddenly stopped dancing with Y/N. She was left standing in the middle of her living room as she watched Harry walk over to kneel before her record player. His hands had stopped the record and taken it from the record player.

“What?” Y/N asked, furrowing her brows as she set her fists on her hips.

“S’nothing,” Harry shook his head.

“Yeah?” Y/N pressed.

“S’really nothing,” Harry sighed.

A few awkward moments passed between the two before Harry turned to peer over at Y/N, 

“Why’d you chat me up all those months ago just to go plant one on somebody else on an Instagram story?” Harry asked, the hurt showing on his somber expression.

“What?” Y/N huffed in disbelief. He must have been out of his wits drunk.

“So you’re denying it?” Harry narrowed his eyes at Y/N.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Y/N offered, “when did this happen?”

“At that one wedding,” Harry explained. It took Y/N a moment before she remembered what Harry had perceived to be a risky moment between her and a young man.

“Are you talking about Alex?” Y/N couldn’t help the laughter that came with such a question.

“I... I don’t know. He was tall and you were dancing, and he,” Harry started before Y/N shook her head at him.

“He’s a very good friend,” Y/N stated, “nothing more.”

“Hm,” Harry still did not look convinced.

“He’s also finds men very attractive,” Y/N added.

“Ah,” Harry’s features showed his embarrassment as his tone turned slightly red, “I feel very foolish, all of a sudden.”

“Jumping to conclusions’ll do that to you,” Y/N shrugged before a pillow was thrown her way.

“You hurt my damn feelings,” Harry laughed as his hands went to cover his face.

“Why?” Y/N huffed to which Harry raised his head to look at her in bewilderment.

“I knew it,” Harry gaped.

“What?” Y/N’s brows pinched together.

“You’re an alien from Mars,” Harry nodded.

“What?” Y/N scrunched her nose at him.

“You act as if nobody has ever taken an interest in you,” Harry shook his head in bewilderment at Y/N.

“Oh, God. Well, I’m not very good at these things; if you haven’t noticed. I tend to read things wrong and make too much of things, and overcomplicate them, and then things inevitably get awkward,” Y/N suddenly stopped speaking, “I’m rambling... sorry... I’m sorry I made you feel so badly.”

“Me, too,” Harry voiced and it wasn't long before Y/N got up to pad over to where Harry had been sat to kneel in front of him. Her hands showed hesitation before they went to grab a hold of either side of his face and he couldn’t help but melt into her touch.

“Hi,” she almost seemed to whisper, her teeth going to bite at her bottom lip as she smiled at him.

“Hi,” he lowly responded, sleepily smiling back at her. Being at this proximity, Harry thought her eyes seemed to go on forever. There was a little glint to them, and he swore some film director out there somewhere was looking for someone with eyes half as breathtaking as hers.

“I’m sorry,” Y/N repeated but Harry could only shrug his shoulders in response as the scent of her perfume wafting through his nostrils. God, she smelled so nice.

“Would you mind terribly if I did something?” She continued to speak softly.

“Hey,” Harry pouted, “s’my line.”

Y/N’s smile deepened before Harry pushed forward to kiss her lips. Harry couldn’t help it as his arms went to encircle her torso, her elbows going to rest on his shoulders. Harry thought his heart would come up into her mouth, it was beating so hard and so fast. If it weren’t so creepy, he wanted so badly to open his eyes to see her in that exact moment—to see if she was just as in love with kissing his lips as he was with hers. He wanted her closer but didn’t know how to ask for more contact. With others, it had all come so naturally. With Y/N... well, she was different. All of a sudden, he didn’t want to rush things and he didn’t know how much he could take of her soft lips caressing his own.

“D’ya want this?” Harry couldn’t help but ask. All Y/N did was hum a response and Harry moved his head so that Y/N could nip down the side of his neck, sending chills down his entire being.

“Baby,” Harry mumbled into Y/N’s hair as he forced his eyes open, kissing the side of her head, “answer me?”

“What?” Y/N hesitantly pulled away.

“I mean,” Harry puffed out a sigh, “is this... are we going too fast?”

“Too fast?” Y/N’s brows raised out of confusion.

“Yeah,” Harry trailed as he tried to read her emotion.

“Uh,” Y/N laughed, “I mean, I don’t want to pressure you... or anything.”

“No,” Harry fervently shook his head as he went to rub at her bare arm, “just don’t wanna rush things.”

“I don’t,” Y/N seemed to cut off her own train of thought, “I’m sorry; if you don’t want me, that’s... fine.”

“No, I,” Harry quickly shook his head as Y/N sat on her heels, “of course I want you. I just... I don’t want... I... I tend to... rush things or... I start things too intimate at first and then a relationship follows... but you’re... I don’t know. I don’t want to start like that... at least not with you... I just... I really like you. And... I don’t wanna mess it up... You know?”

Y/N seemed to be trying to figure out whether or not she believed Harry.

“This is usually the part where,” Harry grinned after audibly gulping, “you tell me if you like me... too?”

Traces of a smile grew upon her features before she rolled her eyes, ”I mean, don’t let it go to your head.”

“I will let it go to my head,” Harry smiled as he leaned forward on his hands to extend his neck for her to kiss him, “I can feel my head expanding with it, now.”

“Harry,” Y/N pouted as her hands went to caress each side of his head.

“Y/N,” Harry reciprocated her tone.

“I kinda want to rush things,” Y/N scrunched up her nose.

“Yeah?” Harry seemed to tease, flashing another one of those grins where Y/N couldn’t discern sleep or want.

All Y/N could do was nod before pressing her lips on Harry’s, his tongue going to prod between her lips. His mouth was pleasantly warm for her. It wasn’t long before Y/N ended up on her back, Harry’s presence overwhelming her on the rug in the middle of her living room floor.

“Taste so sweet,” Harry mumbled in between Y/N’s kisses. Y/N only hummed as her fingers went to comb through the hair at the back of his neck.

“A date,” he suddenly pulled away as he looked down at Y/N’s eyelids as she recovered from the loss of contact.

“What?” She furrowed her brows.

“I want a real first date before we go any further,” Harry stated.

“Are you serious?” Y/N furrowed her brows up at him.

“Those are my terms,” Harry nodded, kissing Y/N’s nose in the process, “take ‘em or leave ‘em.”

+ + +

“How’d I look?” Y/N asked as her hands went to run over her legs once more, smoothing out the fabric of the dress Harry had sneakily watched her wiggle into earlier that afternoon from her bedroom.

“Talented, brilliant, incredible, amazing, show stopping, spectacular,” Harry and Y/N both shared a fit of laughter, Y/N’s hand going to cover Harry’s larger one before he went to grasp at her fidgeting hands, “no, you look great, you look great. More importantly, how’d I look? I’m the one meeting your friends and family as a first date.”

“You’ve never looked bad a day in your life,” Y/N rolled her eyes as she shifted her weight onto the foot further away from Harry. The two hadn’t had much time to schedule a first date since that night the two shared in Y/N’s home. Their schedules just hadn’t matched up and Y/N decided to suggest the night of her next big soiree as a first date. Harry was reluctant; stating how much he had been wanting to “wine and dine” Y/N. The two both understood how needy the other was for intimate contact, however, and had agreed on the event as a sort of first date.

“Really know how to stroke a boy’s ego,” Harry smiled as he couldn’t help but drape his arms around Y/N’s waist. Harry liked the amount of skin that had been on display. It was a little more than he was used to and he hoped Y/N had done it with intent—with him in mind.

“Are you sure this looks okay? It’s not too tight around my butt?” Y/N craned her neck in attempt to peep a glance at her backside.

“Oh, it looks just fine,” Harry teased as his hands had slipped a little to rest hazardously above the asset they were discussing. 

“Oof, m’shaking in me knickers,” Y/N laughed as she went to peck at Harry’s lips, Harry catching another just as she leaned away at the call of her name.

“Y/N, if you’re done trying to taste your boyfriend’s stomach, Odie’s here,” Jamie called out, a grin pulling at the corners of her lips that had been painted a deep shade of purple as she looked ahead at the sight of Harry’s back and Y/N stood in front of him.

“Oh, uh,” Y/N was going to correct Jamie but was suddenly stopped at the surprising sensation of Harry’s hands squeezing her bum before patting it and rising from his seat.

“Yes, how is the old chap?” Harry wondered aloud, grabbing a hold of Y/N’s hand to lead her out of their nook, as if nothing had happened. The pair had snuck into the kitchen to greet the cook. It hadn’t been long that the two had been chatting with the elder that Harry had to excuse himself to take care of the spilled soup stain on his button up he had caused while trying to slurp Odie’s dish when he barked at someone to find them a spoon. Y/N had stayed behind, scorning Odie for his temper when the two were interrupted.

“Baby,” Greta called, and Y/N immediately recognized the voice.

“Mami!” Y/N beamed as she left Odie’s side to go envelop her mother in an embrace. “You made it!”

“Of course; I told you I would, mamas,” came Y/N’s mother’s response.

“I know,” Y/N pulled away to get a better look at her mother, “but I feel like something always comes up.”

“Well, not this time around,” Greta shook her head as her hands went to push her daughter’s hair off her shoulder, “so... where’s the new boyfriend?”

“Oh my gosh,” Y/N’s eyes seemed to pop out of her head, they bulged so much, “you cannot call him that.”

“Why not?” Y/N’s mother scrunched her nose the same way her daughter would when she was confused.

“Because we haven’t had that talk, yet,” Y/N explained.

“Odie,” Y/N’s mother furrowed her brows over to the cook her daughter had created an odd friendship with.

“I’m already planning the wedding cake, Mami,” Odie grinned.

“I can’t with you two,” Y/N laughed, shaking her head as her hand slipped to intertwine her fingers with her mother’s, “come meet him?”

“Honey, that’s a big part of why I’m here,” Greta responded, “if he thinks I’m gonna take it easy on him just because he’s a big Hollywood star, he’s got another thing coming. You are my most precious thing in this world and-”

“Mom,” Y/N laughed as she squeezed her mother’s hand, “it doesn’t have to be this serious. I don’t even know if this is going to be a long term thing. I just... we haven’t gotten to spend a lot of time together lately and he was willing to come tonight, despite having to meet my family... Can you just... be nice to him? I really like him.”

“You deserve more than you understand, mija,” Greta went to cup her daughter’s cheek, “but, fine, yes. I’ll be nice... but not too nice.”

“Oh my goodness. Odie, nos veremos?” Y/N turned to Odie, signaling their departure.

“Sim, meus amores. Go, enjoy,” Odie nodded before turning back to his kitchen, “onde está aquela colher maldita?”

They had looked in the all the different rooms of the gathering, but it took an unusually long time to find the male. When they did, Y/N and Greta could not help the laughter that ensued. In the middle of the dance floor, Harry seemed to be having the time of his life dancing with one of the elders in Y/N’s family. She was a distant aunt—twice removed or something along those lines. She was a short, little thing standing at about four feet and eleven inches. It was quite comical, the foot height difference between the two as the elder seemed to lead Harry in a few turns here and there.

“Mira tu novio, hija,” Elena called out to Y/N once she noticed her laughing off to the side, “sabe bailar.”

Harry furrowed his brows as he looked back to Y/N to see what the older woman had said.

“She says you know how to dance,” Y/N translated over the music, the end of her laughter ending in a few huffs before Harry’s gaze shifted to the woman that stood next to her. Y/N watched as he neared his lips to the elder’s ear before Elena smiled and nodded, patting his back before she urged him towards Y/N and her mother.

“Sorry,” Harry laughed as he approached the two, Elena on his arm.

“Tan amable, Y/N,” Elena gushed up at Harry, “me miro bailando sola y me invito a bailar.”

Harry’s features contorted as he glanced at Y/N for translation. All Y/N could do is pout her bottom lip at the thought of Harry asking her lone aunt to dance.

“What a gentleman,” Greta raised her brows as Elena parted from the group, giving Harry a little squeeze before excusing herself, “s’nice to meet you, Harry.”

“I would say it was nice to meet you, too, Mrs. Y/L/N, but that couldn’t be true, right? Look too young to be this one’s mum,” Harry nodded as he went to cup Y/N’s mothers palm between his own.

“Oh, my God,” Greta let out a giggle that Y/N couldn’t help but furrow her eyebrows. Y/N couldn’t believe how her mother had already started falling under Harry’s spell.

“Honestly, are you her sister?” Harry continued.

“No,” she chortled, shaking her head, “I’m the mom.”

The mom? Her mother had graduated top of her class both in high school and after completing her master’s degree... What kind of response was that? Y/N crossed her arms as she watched her mother giggle like a school girl.

“Well, you could’ve fooled me,” Harry shrugged before he went on to flatter the older woman. It wasn’t long before Harry had noticed Greta’s toe tapping to the beat of the music playing behind them and had offered his hand to take her out to dance.

“You’ll have to teach me how to dance this,” Harry explained as he glanced at Y/N, “your daughter tried showing me, but I’ve got two left feet.”

“I’m sure that’s not true,” Greta shook her head as she rolled her eyes at her daughter, “besides, she’s not as nice a teacher as I am.”

“What was that, mom?” Y/N narrowed her eyes, grinning at the two before her mother turned to laugh at her.

“Nothing!” Y/N’s mother snickered as Harry went to twirl the woman.

Harry had spent the better half of the evening endearing Y/N’s friends and family—her mother especially. Greta had fallen in love with the young male. She went around doting on him like she would a son. After failing to get her daughter to fix Harry a plate, she took it upon herself to retrieve food from the kitchen for him. Since then, Y/N had felt pretty unessential. It was a different feeling, to sit back and watch someone she had started developing such serious emotions for go around and enchanting the people she was so close to. She couldn’t quite pin the feeling, at first. Pretty soon, though, she felt pathetic for feeling such a way. It was odd to feel jealous of the time her loved ones had monopolized with Harry. She had blamed it on the fact that she had entered the party thinking it would be a traditional one on one date with Harry—the one he had requested to begin with. Perhaps this was why he had been hesitant to count such a gathering as a first date.

In any event, Y/N had decided it wouldn’t be such a good look for Harry to look over from the little crowd of her relations he had attracted to see her pouting at a nearby table. She had removed herself from pouting in the corner and had treaded up the stairs to step into the night San Franciscan air. She normally wasn’t like this at one of her parties. A prior longtime boyfriend had frequented these events and they never had this problem. He would sit, drink, and smoke with his group of invited friends while Y/N would habitat the dance floor with a constant group of individuals. He would usually go home earlier than she would, but they would always end up sleeping next to one another at the end of the night. She never felt jealousy towards his friends for occupying his time... She wondered why it was so different with Harry. Sure, it was a different relationship (if you could call it that) with a different person; but she didn’t think that should change the way she felt about him spending time with her people.

“Hey,” a voice from behind Y/N’s seated body had frightened her as she quickly turned to see Harry’s head poking out from the door that led to the stairwell, “what’re you doin’ up here? It’s freezing.”

“Oh, uh,” Y/N smiled as she turned back to the scene she had been staring at, “watching lights.”

“The main character, are we?” Harry teased, frowning when Y/N didn’t laugh. It had been something she liked to use as a punchline so many times before and once he had started using the phrase, she always seemed to get a big kick out of the phrase. He wasn’t sure why it had tickled her fancy so much—something about hearing him specifically saying it, she had once said.

“You feeling okay?” Harry gently inquired as his hands went to rub at Y/N’s tense neck before being shrugged off by Y/N.

“Yeah,” she replied, still not looking up from staring out in front of her.

“Okay,” Harry sighed as his fingers went to bunch up the fabric of his pants before he sat down, “that’s a lie... C’mon, what’s wrong? Tired?”

“No,” she shook her head before tucking her hair behind her ear.

“Okay,” Harry went to look at the city lights, “have I done something to offend you? Something I said?”

“No,” Y/N shook her head as she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth.

“Stop that,” Harry nudged her lip. It had been a conversation they had just had—Y/N pleading with him to help her stop her bad habit of picking at her lips with her teeth, “look, I’m no mind reader but I know there’s something bothering you... We were having such a lovely time...”

“You spent all night charming everybody’s pants off,” Y/N softly stated.

“And?” Harry shook his head, starting to become a little frustrated. He had never tried so hard to read her mind before... or anyone else’s, for that matter. There was a long pause between them before Harry’s elbow nudged Y/N’s side.

“Do you not want me? I mean, shouldn’t you be trying to charm my pants off?” Y/N huffed. Harry huffed out a breath before he shook his head, staring straight ahead. 

“What?” Y/N asked.

“Baby,” Harry huffed as he turned to face Y/N, his hands reaching out to snake under Y/N’s chin so they could gently grasp the sides of her neck, his thumbs going to push her hair from her face.

“What?” Y/N shook her head as he looked at her under those lashes she had come to be so fond of.

“I couldn’t want you any more than you could possibly know tonight,” Harry replied before his lips were on her and it seemed like a ton of bricks were lifted from Y/N’s shoulders. Harry got chills as he still hadn’t gotten used to how soft her lips were against his own. She tasted like the bubble gum she had been chewing earlier, and he wondered if there would ever be a time when he would tire of the smell of her perfume. Y/N’s hands warmed Harry’s cheeks as he helped hoist her from her seated position next to him so that she could straddle his thighs a little more comfortably. Previous times her lips had met Harry’s were tender and their almost languid. This time was a little different—it was needier and the way Harry rubbed up and down Y/N’s arms had given her goosebumps. His larger hands had slipped down to rub at the bare thighs that had poked out from her bunched up dress. She couldn't help but shiver as the harsh callouses of his fingertips ghosted up and down her skin.

“Looked so good all night, baby,” Harry mumbled between kisses, “d’you wear the tightest dress you could find on purpose? Hm? ... And how’d you know my favorite color on you was blue?”

All he got in response was a little murmur he couldn't quite make out, but he didn’t mind. He liked how she licked at his mouth too much to get huffy puffy over a response that never came. Things had escalated pretty quickly from there—he could soon feel the heat of her where he wanted her the most and he didn’t know how much he could take of their clothing being in the way. There had been one or two purposeful movements of Y/N’s hips before Harry felt Y/N’s hands start to trail between them.

“What’re you doing?” Harry feigned ignorance as Y/N could feel the smile on his lips growing. All Y/N could do was whine at his statement before Harry’s hands had to stop her own.

“As pretty as you look on me out here, can’t do this out here,” Harry shook his head as his thumb went to brush some of Y/N’s hair from between her lips before he couldn’t help but run his thumb over her lips, “least not the first time.”

“Buzzkill,” Y/N frowned before her lips opened to allow Harry’s thumb to lay on her tongue before she briskly sucked on his thumb.

“What would you say to leavin’ the party a little early,” Harry voiced as he felt Y/N’s tongue on his thumb.

“Yes, please,” came Y/N’s muffled response before Harry pulled his thumb from Y/N’s mouth.

“Let’s go say our goodbyes, then,” Harry cooed at Y/N before pressing a kiss to her nose and helping her dismount his lap.

+ + +

[A/N: For all my Latinx Harries out there. I have been working on this since about the very ending of last year and so many things in this blurb have manifested (e.g. Harry + Florence Pugh + Chris Pine working together; people knitting A LOT in lock down). I’m convinced I’m psychic. I hope you are all doing well/safe. Please, remember to wear your masks, socially distance, and treat people w/ kindness. :)}

[bangtan-sonyeonddaeng]

Namjoon Scenario| He overworks himself while on holiday

“I can’t believe Namjoon is still working on our break.” Jin has been having a difficult time fully enjoying his time off knowing that his best friend has been working almost all throughout their break.

“Trust me I feel the same way. Last night he was up until 3 in the morning working on songs, answering emails. I swear it’s like he never really takes a break.” Yoongi says with a long drawn out sigh. 

“If y/n knew about this oh gosh she’d have a fit. She’d make him put his phone away and take an actual vacation or something.” Suddenly Hoseok perks up at Jin’s idea.

“That’s a great idea hyung! Let’s call her right now.” 

“Wait wait no! We can’t rat out our leader.. can we?”

“It’s for his own good.” Hoseok pulls his phone out and calls you. 

You hear your phone ringing and glance down at the caller ID. You smile when you see it's Hoseok. 

“Hey Hobi!”

“Hello sunshine! What are you doing today?”

“Oh nothing really. Just hanging around the apartment watching movies. Why?”

“Can you come over? It’s about Namjoon.” You turn the TV off and stand up to collect your things, thinking something is wrong. 

“Is he okay?! Did something happen?”

“No no! Everything is fine he just.. well he’s not really taking a proper break if you understand what I’m saying.”

“Is he still working on his songs and answering company emails?! I told him not to do that and put his electronics away.”

“Yeah we know. Trust me we tried to do the same but he won’t listen. Maybe you could uh, I don’t know. Kidnap him or something for a few days?” 

“Gladly. I’ll be there soon.” You sigh and shake your head, scrolling through your contacts to find Namjoon's.

You’re in trouble mister. A little birdie told me you haven’t been taking time off like you were told. Now I’m coming to kidnap you for the weekend so pack up some things. I’ll be there in a little bit. 

You are about to put your phone in your pocket when your phone chimes with a new message.

Does that little birdie’s name stark with a H and end with obi? 

I will not reveal my sources. 

Y/n I appreciate the thought really. But I have so much stuff to do I don’t think I can afford to take time off. 

Namjoon your manager gave you guys time off because they knew they could handle things while you were gone. You need to just enjoy your time off and live like a normal human for a few days. So! Leave your phone at home, pack up your bag, and get ready to go. 

Where are we even going? 

Do you trust me?

Of course. 

Then just pack some warm clothing, for a few days. Maybe some durable shoes. You’ll see where we’re going. I think you’ll really like it. 

Alright fine, you win.

And there’s no cellphone service or wifi so don’t even think about being sneaky and trying to bring your phone or laptop you hear me?

Namjoon was about to put his phone in a compartment in his suitcase when he sees your message. He shakes his head and sighs with a fond smile on his face. 

“Alright y/n. We’ll do things your way.” He says to himself. He packs up his things and goes out into the living room where he sees Hoseok and Jin still sitting on the couch.

“I can’t believe you guys told on me like a bunch of children.” 

“Well you wouldn’t listen to us but we know you’ll listen to y/n. Your little crush on her is extremely obvious you know?” Hoseok replies with a shrug. Namjoon’s face goes red at that. 

“Well now I’m going to be going somewhere with her for a few days. Apparently it’s some big secret I don’t get to know about. There’s no cell service or wifi so I will be unreachable for a few days. Maybe longer if she’s about to lure me to my death.” Jin laughs loudly at that and shakes his head.

“It’s fine Namjoonie! We can hold down the fort while you’re gone. Go enjoy your few days off with the love of your life.” Jin makes kissy faces at Namjoon and he grabs a pillow off the couch and throws it in retaliation, hitting him square in the face. 

“Rude! Is that anyway to thank the person who is responsible for your little getaway with y/n?”

“Hey! Don’t you take credit it was my idea to call her!” Hoseok interjects. 

“Eh, details details.” Jin waives him off with his hand. It’s a little while longe before he hears you knocking on the door.

“Guess I better get going then. See you guys in a few days.” 

Namjoon answers the door and sees you standing there, looking as cute as ever. He smiles his dimpled smile at you. 

“Hey y/n. Good to see you again.” 

“You too! Now where’s your phone?” Jin holds it up from the couch. 

“Right here! Don’t worry he has no electronics with him we checked before you got here.” 

“You don’t trust me y/n? I’m hurt.” You playfully smack his shoulder and laugh. 

“Obviously I don’t have reason to since you lied to me when you promised you would relax on this break.” He looks at you sheepishly and rubs the back of his neck. “Alright enough talking. We got about a 3 hour drive ahead of us so.. we should get going. Bye Jin! Bye Hobi!”

“Bye y/n! Take good care of our leader!” 

After you pack up the car you begin the drive. Your family owned a small cabin in the mountains that you liked to go to for little getaways from all the chaos in life. And you decided it would be the perfect place to take Namjoon. He must not have had much sleep last night because the moment you turned on some music you could hear quiet snores escaping his lips. You look over and smile fondly at him, having the urge to kiss him but you quickly bury the thought. You knew he liked you. He wasn’t exactly good at hiding his feelings for you but you didn’t want to call him out on it. Not yet anyway.

You drive in relative silence save for the music playing and Namjoon’s snoring. You’re almost there when one of the songs’ from his mixtape comes on. You start softly singing along to it, not realizing he had woken up. When you finish the song he perks up and looks at you.

“You have a really beautiful voice. You should do a song with me someday.” You jump, not aware that he was listening to you. 

“Um.. T-thank you. Maybe someday. I don’t know if I could handle being the spotlight though. I like being you secret best friend for now.” He stretches and lets out a groan and you try to keep your eyes fixated on the road and not where a patch of his stomach is showing from his shirt riding up. 

“Are we almost there?” His voice snaps you out of your thoughts. 

“Yeah actually. Just a few more minutes.” 

You pull onto the dirt road which leads you up to the cabin. Namjoon takes in the sight of everything with a smile on his face. 

“This is amazing. It’s so beautiful up here! What is this place?”

“It’s our family cabin. We used to come where all the time when I was a kid. I still come here when I need to get away for a little while. I figured it would be good for you too.” You step out of the car as does he, grabbing your bags from the back and heading into the cabin. You had bought groceries and supplies before picking up Namjoon so you two could stay at the cabin undisturbed for a few days. 

“Oh there’s a lake too!” Namjoon drops his bags in the living room and runs out to the porch doors to admire the view. “This is amazing. I never would have imagined you’d bring me to some place like this.”

“Well, I know how much you appreciate nature so...” Your voice trials off and you look down at your hands when you feel his gaze on you. 

“This is really thoughtful of you. Thank you y/n. Truly from the bottom of my heart.” 

“You’re welcome. You want to go fishing so we can catch us dinner?”

“Ah, fishing is Jin and Yoongi’s specialty..”

“It’s okay. I’ll show you.” 

The next few hours are spent fishing. Namjoon accidentally throws the fishing pole into the lake the first time he casts it, forgetting to keep a good grip on it. He’s embarrassed but you can’t help but burst out laughing. You assure him it’s okay and give him another fishing pole to try again. You end up catching enough for the two of you. And Namjoon did catch one fish, although it was too small to eat. He decided to keep in a bucket for a little while claiming it was his new buddy. 

The days goes on and it’s right before bed. You are preparing to light the fire place as it’s going to get quite cold at night. 

“Need any help with that?”

“You threw the fishing pole into the lake I don’t need you setting my cabin on fire too.” He looks at you wide eyed and you chuckle. “I’m just messing with you Namjoon. Of course you can help. Can you grab me the firewood from the side of the house?” 

“Sure.” He comes back in moments with a disgruntled look on his face.

“Did you have me do that because you knew the wood was going to be covered in bugs?” You laugh at that loudly having been read so easily. 

“Maybe! You know I hate spiders.” A deep chuckle escapes his lips and you love the sound of it.  He hands you the firewood. You light it and within moments you have a nice cozy fire for the two of you. He sits down next to you, letting your shoulders barely brush up against one another. 

“So what are the sleeping arrangements going to be like? You only have one bed. I don’t mind taking the couch.”

“That’s not necessary we can sleep in the bed together.”

“B-but.. I don’t know won’t you be uncomfortable?”

“No? Unless you’re a blanket hog then we might have problems.” 

“I’m definitely not. But I just-”

“Hey, Joonie it’s fine. I am more than okay with this.” He’s internally panicking, worrying he’s going to do something stupid like cuddle up to you while he’s asleep. Or talk in his slleep. Oh god what if he confesses to you or something while he’s half asleep because he isn’t thinking clearly.

“... Or if you aren’t comfortable with it we can sleep separately.”

“No!” He yells a little to eagerly. “I mean no. That’s okay. It’s fine. This is fine.” You hold in the giggle that is threatening to erupt from your lips at how flustered he is. You contemplate maybe confessing to him first to put him out of his misery. You stand up from the floor and walk over to the bed to lay down. Namjoon follows shortly after and settles in next to you. You lay there quietly for a few moments, the only sound being the crackle of the fireplace.

“Namjoon-”

“Y/n-.” You both start at the same time. 

“You first.” 

“Just.. I wanted to say thank you for doing this for me. I know I gave you a hard time at first but I really am grateful for you caring enough about my wellbeing to drop everything and bring me here.”

“Of course. You work so hard and you deserve a break. The other members were worried you were going to overwork yourself into the ground and I couldn’t let that happen. I care about you too much.” You see a slight blush forming on his cheeks. 

“So um, what were you going to say?”

“Well, I hope I haven’t been reading things wrong the past few months we’ve known each other otherwise this is going to be really awkward.” The words get choked up in your throat as you are suddenly nervous. He turns on his side to face you and you do the same. Before you can take anything back you lean in and peck a kiss to his forehead. Namjoon stares at you in shock, mouth hanging open and eyes remaining wide and unblinking. 

“Y-you.. you kissed me.”

“I did.” 

“Why did... Do it again.” You laugh and lean in to kiss his forehead again, then to his cheek, and then a quick peck to his lips. You go to pull away but he holds you firmly in place, lacing his fingers through your hair and pulling you closer to him. You remain that way for a few moments before he pulls away. 

“Wow.. I’ve been wanting to do that for a long time.”

“You should have then! Why did you make me make the first move?”

“Because I was too chicken to say anything.” 

“Fair enough.” Namjoon smiles and pulls you closer to him, one hand resting on the small of your back and the other placed gently on the back of your head. You bury your face in his chest, breathing in the comforting scent that is him. Within moments you are asleep. You don’t have to put a label on anything right now. You both know your feelings from one another, and you have the rest of the week to figure everything out while you make sure Namjoon has the best holiday he’s ever had, because in your mind he deserves that and so much more. 

[ghosthunthq]

What Are Men Good For?

Title: What Are Men Good For?

Author: @shesailsships

A/N: This was written for the 2020 Ghost Hunt Fanworks Weekend. I selected the prompt neighbors who only meet because “I can’t get this stupid jar open, can you help?”

What are men even good for?– Ayako Matsuzaki thought vehemently as her apartment key scratched in the lock and she flung open her front door– besides opening jars, moving furniture, and killing bugs?

Kicking off her heels and dropping her purse, Ayako immediately set to erasing the face of the man who had successfully ruined one of her very few Saturdays off. He had been the son of one of the nurses who worked the night shift with Ayako at The University Of Tokyo Hospital. Ayako had gone into the arrangement with more hope than she probably should have after two other failed dates just that month…

So much for that.

Looking to cool her temper a bit, Ayako began rummaging around her small kitchen. Locating a glass, she closed her cabinet with a bang. Opening the fridge, she closed it with a slam. Ayako stood at her kitchen counter taking angry swallows of cold Brita water. Then with a slight pang of guilt, it occurred to her she might have been a bit too loud for it being midnight.

But the sudden sound of a running shower put her mind at ease.

That’s right. Rocker Monk is always up at this time.

Ayako had never actually crossed paths with Rocker Monk. He had moved into the unit directly next to her about a month ago. What Ayako had learned about her neighbor had all come through the wall. That he was in fact a he was made certain after hearing him sing (loudly) in the shower (which was inconveniently located next to her kitchen), and…the chanting. When Ayako first heard it, frankly it had kind of weirded her out. She had considered calling apartment management…but after week, she (grudgingly) found it somewhat soothing. It wasn’t hurting anyone, so she let it be.

Ayako attributed her passing curiosity in him (after having never given a second though to her previous neighbors in that unit) to them keeping similar schedules. Ayako worked graveyard shifts at the hospital. She assumed she was the only person in her building sleeping until four in the afternoon, whose work day didn’t start until eleven-thirty at night. But then came Rocker Monk. Who was silent as a ghost all day, and only active at night. Between ten and eleven Ayako could always count on the shower kicking on, and then he was out the door…off to whatever his job was. After hearing him regularly practicing bass guitar, Ayako began the amusing idea that he was in a rock band.

He’s late tonight, Ayako thought as Rocker Monk began singing.

He wasn’t half bad and Ayako decided listen in while finishing the dishes left in her sink. Afterward, she found herself going to bed in a relatively good mood.

The next night, Ayako was back to slamming cabinets again. She was in a flustered mood, running behind. She had taken the world’s quickest shower, and with her hair still wet, she was attempting to cobble together a decent breakfast. She was about to work a double and she wanted something decent in her stomach. But the damn jam just wouldn’t open.

Cursing in frustration, Ayako was considering just chucking the thing…when she heard the shower turn on next door. She stared down at the offending jar in her hand.

What are men even good for?

Ayako gave it fifteen minutes. She busied herself blow drying her hair, touching up her makeup, throwing on her scrubs. Then, putting two pieces of bread in the toaster, she grabbed the jar of jam, and left her apartment.

A moment later, Ayako was standing in front of Rocker Monk’s door, knocking firmly. It took a good bit of knocking (clearly he didn’t have guests over often), but then the lock slid over and there stood a tall man in the doorway. Ayako took him in in a blink– his long blonde hair pulled back in a low ponytail, his broad shoulders, the black long sleeve v-neck sweater he was wearing– and then she was thrusting the jar of jam into his hands.

“Can you open this?”

As not to drop it, Rocker Monk accepted the jar, but was looking between it and her with an expression that was partly interested, partly confused.

“Do we…know each other?”

Ayako, arms crossed, impatiently nodded.

“Of course. You’re–” Ayako hesitated here, almost calling him by his nickname, “Bou…Bou-san. And I’m your neighbor who needs help opening this jar.”

Rocker Monk blinked at her, taking in her answer. Something like an impressed spark lit his eyes,

“Bou-san? What makes you call me that?”

“I heard you chanting.”

“Oh?”

“What happened? You run away from the temple?”

The monk was smiling by this time, a bit self consciously he rubbed at the back of his neck.

“Actually…yeah. I couldn’t make music there.”

“Ha, I knew it.”

“You could hear that too?”

“Sorry but, I’m running short on time. Can you open that thing or not?”

His attention returned to the jar in his hands, Bou-san gave the lid a deft twist and with a satisfying pop, it opened. The monk held it out to her.

“There you go.”

Ayako flashed a smile and took back the jam. With a wave she was already backing down the hall, towards her apartment.

“Thanks, neighbor.”

He waved back, and peering out of his door frame, he called back to her, “It’s Takigawa, Houshou.”

“Nice to meet you, Rocker Monk.”

Still smiling, Ayako closed her apartment door and set about making a reasonable breakfast, having just enough time to stuff toast in her mouth.

That’s what men are good for.

Weeks passed by. Ayako worked a blur of twelve and sixteen hours shifts. She listened in on countless songs sung by the monk in the shower. She swore he was even louder than before. On purpose. More often than not, she found herself wanting toast with jam on her days off. Visits next door became a somewhat regular thing.

Ayako learned that Rocker Monk– or as she now called him– Bou-san, was in fact in a band. A small indie one, that played mostly night gigs. He learned she was a nurse at a major hospital. She offered her services if he was ever choking to death. Or had a heart attack. She was well trained in the Heimlich Maneuver and CPR.

That spring Ayako was granted a much deserved vacation. After being lavishly lazy the first two days, she decided spring cleaning was in due order. On a bright Sunday morning she drug herself out of bed, threw open her blinds and windows and decided to rearrange her living room.

An hour later Ayako was sweating and cursing over her stubborn couch that just wouldn’t move. About to give the whole thing up– she had a dawning realization.

Exchanging the sweats she was cleaning in for a pair of jeans and a tank top, Ayako walked the familiar path to her neighbor’s door. Knowing it was hours before he would even be conscious, she hesitated in her plan, but then knocked anyways.

What are men even good for?

It took more pounding than usual, but eventually the monk answered the door. Ayako raised her eyebrows at the sight of the still half asleep man before her.

Hair loose at his shoulders, was wearing boxer shorts…and no shirt.

“Ah, crap. I thought it was an emergency–” he started to explain, attempting to cover his bare chest.

“It is an emergency. I need you to move my couch.”

Bou-san put on a shirt and the couch got moved.

That’s what men are good for.

The next day decided Ayako decided she wanted to move her bed. And then her computer desk. Rocker Monk got very little sleep the whole of Ayako’s vacation. But occasionally she fed him. They had dinner twice. Lunch once. Coffee several times.

After vacation Ayako gained the nickname Miko. Having been in her apartment, Bou-san noticed the number of plants that filled the space. He appreciated her green thumb and told her she reminded him of a shrine maiden. Ayako snorted at that, but the name stuck.

At the start of summer, Ayako was having trouble sleeping. It was incredibly muggy in Tokyo. On her night off, after tossing and turning for hours, Ayako stared at the ceiling in defeat. Sitting up in bed, she decided she would read, hoping that would make her tired enough to fall asleep. Reaching for her lamp, Ayako saw the clock read two in the morning.

Great.

Clicking the light on, Ayako reached for the book she had started six months ago– and then froze.

A spider. Hairy and the size of her hand, was crawling across the foot of her bed.

With a cry, Ayako jumped up– scrambling to stand at the top of her bed. Back pressed against the wall, Ayako’s mind raced, but every solution seemed to involve getting off the bed and facing indeterminate danger. She just couldn’t kill it.

And then, a flash of genius through her blind panic. A question that solved the problem.

What are men even good for?

Heart pounding, Ayako reached down, fumbling for her phone sitting on the nightstand nearest her. Her finger hit speed dial. Three rings later, a gruff voice answered.

“Wha– Ayako, what is–”

“Bou-san you have get over here right now there’s a huge spider it’s going to devour me and then you’ll have nobody to listen to you sing in the shower–”

It felt like a century, but Bou-san was over in an instant. Having exchanged keys a month ago (what if there was a medical emergency?), he came barreling into Ayako’s apartment, a broom in hand.

“Where?” he demanded as he entered the bedroom, waving the broom around.

“On my bed!”

But it wasn’t. In all of Ayako’s commotion, she had kicked her blankets off. The spider was no longer anywhere to be seen.

Ten minutes of turning on all the lights, sorting through all the blankets, doing a sweep of the whole apartment…and there was still, nothing.

“Those are nice,” Bou-san spoke, leaning against Ayako’s door frame where they had taken up post to watch for the spider.

“What’s nice? None of this is nice–”

“Your pajamas.”

Ayako tore her gaze away from the floor to glance down at herself. They were her lacy ones.

Oh well.

“Keep your eyes on the prize, monk. It’s almost three in morning, where the hell is this demon spider?”

“Wait, what’s that brown thing…?”

“What?!”

Ayako launched at Bou-san, and was clinging to him (practically climbing him…), before he could even finish his sentence, hitting him in the arm, demanding that he kill it.

But upon further inspection, there was nothing to kill. The brown thing turned out to be just one of Ayako’s slippers. Exhausted and flustered, Ayako finally released the monk, head in her hands.

“I’m just not going to sleep tonight. I’ll just call the office as soon as they open and have them bomb his place.”

Bou-san chewed at his lip, thoughtful.

“You have to sleep.”

Ayako sent him a sharp look,

“Not with that thing in here.”

“No…I don’t blame you there, but you could sleep…you know– at my place, if you wanted.”

There was a beat as Ayako’s foggy mind processed this offer.

“Sleep. At your apartment?”

“Yeah, like on my couch. I haven’t seen a spider for weeks, I think it’s probably safe.”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah?”

“Sure.”

That’s what men are good for.

Trading her apartment for his, Ayako did finally manage to get some sleep that night, comfortably tucked into the monk’s bed, while the monk (somehow) ended up on the couch.

The summer’s humidity brought mosquitoes. And mosquitoes brought Bou-san over several times a week. The monk teased her that her love of nature didn’t seem to embrace all of it and the little spirits of the bugs she was having him squash would haunt her. Ayako balked at this, but that was how they got started on the topic of the paranormal. Apparently they shared a mutual interest in it, and more than one night was spent with them exchanging chilling real life experiences.

Ayako didn’t want to admit it, but the more she got to know Bou-san, the longer her list of what men were even good for seemed to grow.

Cooking.

Like when Bou-san surprised her with a real breakfast after she slogged home from a particularly harsh double shift at the hospital.

That’s what men are good for.

Handy work.

Like when her washing machine broke and apartment maintenance said it was back ordered and would take a month to be installed. One YouTube tutorial later and Bou-san had it fixed.

That’s what men are good for.

Company.

Like when Bou-san stayed up with her all night, taking her mind off the head cold she caught, watching ridiculous horror films, and telling bad jokes.

Standing on her deck, the season’s first snowflakes falling through the dark, Ayako studied the monk beside her, and found she was a bit afraid that she had come to like her list a little too much. Especially the part she just added…

“I can’t believe it’s really snowing.”

“You’re cheeks are red. Pretty cold, huh?”

“Hm.”

“Want me to come a little closer, share some warmth? Oh look at that, it’s really coming down now.”

What are men even good for?

Love.

And she kissed him.

That’s what men are good for.

[lokisgame]

A Generous Donation [17]

[part 1] [part 2] [part 3] [part 4] [part 5] [part 6] [part 7] [part 8] [part 9] [part 10] [part 11] [part 12][part 13] [part 14] [part 15] [part 16]

Mulder found Scully in her office, staring at slides pinned to the light box. She turned and upon seeing him, smiled wide. "What are those?" "I stole them from a guy with a broken leg down the hall," he said conspiratorially, handing her a dozen roses, "he won't be able to catch me." "Then maybe I should give them back," she teased and buried her nose in red petals, breathed in, her eyes falling shut for a second. "Don't you dare," Mulder smiled and leaned in for a kiss. "Hello, Doc." "Hi," she kissed him back. "What's the occasion?" "I'm taking you out." "Out? Where?" "To dinner," he said, doubling back for her coat. "It's been a while." "But I'm not dressed right, and I'm supposed to visit Will." "You look perfect and I already spoke to Will, he's fine, he loves you and he hopes we'll have fun." "So it's dinner and fun?" "Sort of fun." 

"Just so you know, I don't do ice skating." "Oh dear, no," he laughed and held out the coat, "can we go? Or do you want to finish something here first? I can wait." "No, we can go," she said turning, and glancing at the roses again, "I'm just worried about these." She slipped her arms inside the sleeves, juggling the bouquet as she did. "If they die, which is unlikely," he said, pulling her into his arms, "I'll get you two dozen more." "You spoil me rotten." "It's about time, ‘cause you're worth it." "Alright, you old smoothie," she laughed, freeing herself and linking their arms, "now feed me, I'm famished."

Scully took in the long counter, tall bar stools, fogged up windows and the cooking that was happening right before the patrons. Long strings of noodles sprang out from steaming pots to the rhythm of chopping the vegetables. The place smelled delicious, still, she felt like teasing him a little. "So this your idea of fancy, ramen?" "I didn't say it's going to be fancy," he grinned stirring his soup. "You said you were hungry, eat up." "All the roses, the surprise, I just thought." She shook her head, amused, picking a piece of grilled chicken from the broth. Mulder looked up, doubt creeping into his eyes. "You don't like it?" He asked, but she already tasted the food and smiling, went for more. "Oh, okay," he said and went back to his food as well. "I picked this place because it's the closest to where we're heading next." "Which is?" Scully asked and Mulder grinned around a mouthful of beef, so she answered for him. "Another surprise." He shrugged and nodded. "If this is some monster hunt, I swear." He swallowed fast, put his arms around her and kissed her cheek. "It's not, stop worrying." "So stop being so cryptic." Mulder laughed, squeezing a kiss between her shoulder and neck just to make her laugh. "Now where's the fun in that." He took a sip of his beer and picked up his chopsticks again. "So, how was your day?" So between slurping and laughing, she told him.

"You still haven't explained the car," she said, pulling on her leather gloves before leaving the restaurant. "What happened to the Ford?" Mulder opened the door for her. "Nothing, but we need something bigger for tonight so I borrowed the bus from a friend." "Your friend is a fan of classic cars?" "Classic, Frohike would kiss you for that," he laughed following her out, "not that I'd let him." "Where to next?" She asked, talking his hand. "You don't recognize these parts?" She looked around as they crossed the street. The wind changed, carrying voices and the scent of cinnamon and pine. Scully laughed. "No! How did you know?" Mulder grinned and put his arm around her. "Charlie suggested it." They followed the chain link fence towards the twinkling lights and music, to buy their first Christmas tree.

Scully sipped mulled wine from a plastic cup following Mulder until he stopped by a spruce, almost a foot taller than him. "Okay, what do you think about this one?" "I'm not sure it will fit into my living room," she said grinning. "How about mine?" "I thought you didn't do Christmas." "I feel exceptionally festive this year." He took a step back to examine the tree from afar and Scully leaned into his side, putting one arm around his waist. "If it's for me, you don't have to do this." "Isn't the tree a vital part of the Christmas spirit?" "No, it's about sharing love and spreading kindness and generosity." She looked up and smiled even brighter, "Come to think of it, you could be my Christmas tree." Mulder laughed, kissing the cold tip of her nose. "As long as you don't try to wrap me in Christmas lights." "Do you even have Christmas lights?" "Nope, I was counting on you to help me with that." "In that case, we've got some serious Christmas shopping to do, mister." "Okay, but what about the tree?" "It's nice, but we can do better." "So we're picking two?"   "No," she pushed her hand under his arm and pulled him along, "we'll only need one."

Once they wrestled the tree inside Mulder's front door and decided on the spot, a little to the side from the fireplace with a nice view from the couch, Scully went about making hot chocolate, leaving Mulder in the living room, looking at the tree. "You think there are spiders in it?" "Don't tell me you're afraid of spiders." "It's not that I'm afraid, I'm just not a huge fan of bugs." He said and went to join her. "What could an itty-bitty spider do to a big guy like you?" "You know about venomous spiders, right?" "In Massachusetts?" "Isn't there anything you're scared of?" "Once you have a kid, everything scares you," she said over a little pot sitting on the smallest burner, "stairs, power sockets, knives, scissors left lying around. Either you learn to live with that fear or suffocate your kid trying to protect him from anything and everything." Mulder wrapped his arms around her waist, chin resting on the top of her head. "You did a good job, raising our kid to be brave." "I think he hides a lot of his fears behind humor." "Better that than violence," he sighed and began nibbling kisses over the side of her neck, "another point for you. Anyone ever told you you're awesome?" "You?" She giggled, tilting her chin and leaning into his lips, but her next words came wistful. "I wish you could have been there with me." "I'm here now," he murmured against her earlobe, "and we've got all the time in the world." He kissed her cheek, before catching her lips, then reached into the cupboard and took out a bottle of Jameson. Mulder liked his hot chocolate Irish.

They got two strings of rainbow colored lights and two boxes of ornaments. Scully ripped the packaging, unwound couple of feet from the knot and handed the loose end to Mulder keeping the rest to herself. "We'll start from the top and work our way down around the tree," she instructed. Mulder nodded and set his mug on the mantle. He took the cord, reached up and paused by the highest branch, looking over his shoulder. "Here?" "Perfect." She smiled and followed around the tree, untangling the wire for him. "This always was Will's favorite part," she said, "even when he barely reached the lowest branches, he would hold the lights trying to help. Then as he grew, we arranged the lights together, and now it's usually him doing the hanging and me holding the wires." "And who did it for you, when both of you were too small to reach the top?" Scully poked his side and he chuckled. "I scaled down the tree to my size," she said and moved the cord he just hung, one level down. "How do you know it should go there?" Scully shrugged and handed him another yard. "Practice?" "At home we never really celebrated anything between Thanksgiving and New Years," Mulder said taking the second set of lights and starting again, at the top. "Not Hanukkah, not Christmas, obviously. My father was too busy, and mom, instead of making an effort for us, waited. Like his word was the law and she waited for his say-so. And then Samantha went missing and even the pretense went out the window. No more fireworks in July, no more thanksgiving. Zip." "I'm sorry." "It's okay, I guess it would be worse if we tried to force it. You can't miss what you don't know. Then I went to college and stayed at Oxford for Christmas break." "I'm almost afraid to ask." "We drank and partied and don't ask me what else, because I don't really remember. It felt good to let go for a bit." "You don't remember your first Christmas?" "We went to London, then Paris, it snowed like crazy that year." "White Christmas, nice." They made one last round around the tree and Mulder went to kill the lights, while Scully did small adjustments to the arrangement. For a moment the room was illuminated by nothing but the fire in the fireplace and then Mulder came back, knelt on the floor and plugged the lights in. She forgot how to exhale for a second or three, until he was standing behind her, arms wrapped around her waist. Leaning against his chest and feeling his chin resting on top of her head. Barefoot, she fit perfectly, head to toe, into his embrace. "Oh wow," she sighed. "Yeah, my thoughts exactly." Mulder said and leaned into her, drawing her closer to his lips on the side of her neck. "Wait till we hang all the ornaments," she murmured, but his hands were already sneaking under the edge of her sweater, working buttons on her shirt. "Ornaments can wait," he breathed and nipped at the skin just above the collar. "I can't." "It's just two boxes," she sighed, doing nothing to stop his fingers from finding the tab on the zipper of her slacks. "Wanna know a secret?" "You discovered a Christmas tree fetish?" He didn't say, but fingertips on bare skin made her jump when a caress turned into a tickle, making her squirm in his arms. Mulder pulled her tighter to himself, his hand slipping under the lace trimmed waistband of her panties. She covered his hand through the fabric and ground her hips into his touch. "Shame, because I think," he pushed two fingers inside her making her voice hitch, "I think I did." Throaty laughter filled her ear and he tugged on her earlobe, a bite soothed with a kiss. Light fractured on her eyelashes and she gave herself over to the sensations of his confident touch and erection trapped against the small of her back. Mulder held her up, one hand kneading the breast, deliciously pinching the nipple, the other pumping in and out, fingers slipping over her clitoris with each pass. It was an exquisite torture. She longed for his warmth not the heat off her clothes, the touch of his skin instead of just his hands and lips. "I want to feel you," she moaned and he pushed deep inside her almost lifting her off her feet. But it wasn't the touch that sent a new shiver up her spine, it was his word. "No," he growled flicking her nipple and pushing a third finger inside her, curling them. That one spot which usually turned her all aglow set her on fire. "Come for me first." It wasn't a plea or a promise, it was an order, one she had no choice but to obey. With his tongue and teeth on her neck, she rocked her hips into his palm and the pleasure that was building exploded from her core, pushing the breath out of her lungs in a moan and knocking her knees out from under her. If it wasn't for his arms around her, she'd collapse. Instead, Mulder lowered her to the floor by the fireplace, tugging on her pants and panties. "Breathe, Scully." He said and she breathed, watching him take off his sweater and t-shirt, the flex of muscles and arch of his back as he knelt between her thighs. Light played on his skin, the fire behind him, the Christmas lights above her and his smile when he let his hands glide up her thighs and over hips, to the edge of her sweater and blouse. He pulled and she arched her back, but when the clothes passed her head, he paused leaving her hands trapped inside the sleeves. Scully tried to free herself, but he caught her wrists, pinning them over her head. "Leave it," he said, catching her lips in a light kiss. Nibbling on her parted mouth he traced his fingers down the inside of her arms. He grazed the delicate skin, fingernails turning tickles into shivers, past the sensitive crooks of her elbows, upper arms and armpits. His lips followed over her throat, the hollow at the base and down her sternum, until they met his hands, cupping both breasts and squeezing through the soft lace and he buried his face between them. She gasped and arched into his touch. Never had she surrendered herself so freely, following without a word his soft-spoken commands. Was it because she trusted him? Was it because he had given her so much already? Or was it because she felt that him finally wanting something from her and taking it instead of asking for it, made her feel needed. He finally claimed her. Finally, they were equals. She wrapped her thighs around him and resting her feet on his hips brought him back. He unhooked her bra and latched onto her breast, sucking at her right nipple while he pinched the left. "Not yet," he murmured between kisses, on his way from the right to the left, "patience." And she didn't fight him, letting him kiss his fill. She moved beneath him, panting the lower he kissed, not holding back the moans he elicited when he draped her thighs over his shoulders and opened her up again with his tongue and fingers. Licking inside and outside, he teased her mercilessly, bringing her to the edge, watching her pull on the makeshift restraints, with her back arched off the floor and her breath coming in gasps, just to stop and start all over again. She was lost in sensation when she finally felt him shift, the back of her thighs against his chest, sudden kisses on her calves beckoning her back. She was almost bent in half beneath him, trapped between his thighs and arms as he hovered over her. Mulder waited till her eyes focused on him, until she felt the tip of his cock poised at the entrance of her body, and when he had her full attention he pushed inside her. Slowly, deliberately, never freeing her gaze, he started to thrust, rocking into her, his speed building as she grew wetter with each pass. Deeper and faster, as her walls gripped him tighter. Mulder shifted his balance, changed the angle and freed one hand to stroke around her clit. Sweat glistened in the light of the fire and the tree, and he gave everything he had to her expecting nothing of her but to surrender and take it and he took pleasure in her body. She came hard and didn't even try to hide it, pulling him with her over the edge, his heat filing her to the brim, and drowning out thought. Minutes or eons later, she found Mulder pulling out and rolling off her. With one hand he pried open her fingers, still clutching on the fabric of the sweater. "Say something," he whispered, pulling her arms down and massaging the life back into her fingers. "You've been holding out on me." Mulder chuckled but kept working on her hands. "Did you like it?" Scully purred and rolled onto her side, straight into his arms. "It's like Christmas came early this year, like, three times." She murmured kissing his warm skin and the chuckle turned into a laugh. "I've got nothing," he sighed and brought her hand to his lips, biting the knuckles lightly, "you blow my mind." "There's something else I'd rather blow," she said, licking her lips. "What about the tree?" "What tree?" "The Christmas tree behind you," he laughed, "the one with the spiders in it!" Scully gasped and scrambled up, scooting as far away as she could until she hit the couch with her back. Mulder stayed where he was, his body shaking with laughter and she realized he wasn't serious. On all fours she crawled back, swatting at his side as hard as she could, getting nothing more than more laugh for her trouble. She straddled his stomach and leaning in, pushed his shoulders into the hardwood floor beneath. "Not funny!" "A little funny." Digging her fingernails into his skin, she dragged them over his chest, not enough to draw blood, just to leave a bright red trace. Mulder hissed, but it was a good hiss, he grabbed her thighs and held on.   "Hello," she smiled and moved lower, "you like this?" "What?" Stretching out on his chest, she scored him again, all the way up, until her fingers twined in his hair, turning pain into bliss. "This." "Yeah, this." With her tongue in his mouth and his fingernails on her back, they made love again in the light of the fire and the Christmas lights.

The next morning Mulder found Scully on his couch, with a mug of coffee in hand and her feet propped up on the coffee table. He leaned over her and kissed the top of her head. "Morning," she said, leaning her head back for another one, on her lips. The day didn't start until he got at least three. "You hung the ornaments." "We should get you some fun ones." "UFO's?" He teased, brushing her smile the third time, the charm. "Handcuffs." "Warn me, before I open my gifts in front of your mother." "I'm thinking neckties and scarves." "Try leather belts and gloves." "Gloves?" He climbed over the back of the couch, picked up the mug she had ready for him and pulled her under his arm. "I like to keep my hands warm." "What are we doing today?" "Visiting Will." "Other than that, obviously." "Oh, I don't know, watch tv, hang out, order in." "Tie you up and stay in bed until Monday?" "Tie me up?" His eyebrow went up on the 'me'. "Okay, we can take turns." Mulder set the mug on the floor and pulled her legs over his lap. A hand climbed up her thigh, pushing her back into the couch cushions. He pushed past the lace, whispering against her lips. "Will you always keep me guessing?" "As long as you keep unfolding like a flower." "I wish I've met you when I was still in my twenties." "You did," she grinned, glancing down, "at least part of you did." "Okay," grabbing her hips he pulled her down, "you've asked for it." Mulder yanked at the sash and the bathrobe and her thighs fell open. They didn't make it for lunch with Will. He didn't mind.

[freewheelshippin]

Ranmaru is a musician down on his luck and out of inspiration who got taken in by a sweet old couple running a gardening/flower shop, so while he pulls himself together, he’s grouchily helping out and making bouquets and doling out plant care advice. M is a tattoo artist with not enough clients, confidence in her art, or skills in keeping succulents alive, but maybe the toughie at the store across the street can help her with all three!

and because I’m Like That I got tied up and uh....wrote a little (a lot) of something, focusing on the artistic funk part of the equation. But if you’ll let me have one more indulgence, the headcanon I have is that it eventually Happy Endings into becoming roommates and business partners, starting an indie label to support other artists!!!  

anyways here’s this excessively indulgent/serious fic that came outta this LOL

He was here, folded among big green leaves for much longer than he’d intended. The owners heard he was down on hard times and didn’t have a safe place to call home, so he holed up in their guest room. Before he knew it he was stepping in for them at every heavy mulch bag, every wheelbarrow piled high, every crouch that was too much for their aging bodies.

It wasn’t a bad life. It was an improvement, sure. He was alive and fed every day, and he’d never known a home so warm. But it still wasn’t his. He felt like a houseplant, tended to and placed in warm sun, but just as easily fading into the stillness of quiet moments and the background of everyday. He’d never wanted a life like a plant. He hungered deeply even though he was eating regularly again, and he felt more like a bored tiger, pacing in its cage but nowhere to go.

******

He’d been there long enough to start noticing the regulars. The first was that friendly guy who always got idioms wrong and bought the store out of all their cat grass. The second someone was even friendlier, and he’d bug him for what kind of flowers to get a florist. He kept asking even if Ranmaru never gave him an answer past ‘I don’t fucking know’ as he arranged bouquets that used as many herbs and broad, bold leaves as traditional flowers.

The third was someone who looked like she walked in from his past life (or the one he wanted back, anyway). The shaved head, the denim and patches, the ink peeking out from under her sleeves. She was friendly enough but nowhere near as ready to ask for things or will information about herself as the other two regulars, so he only knew her from her purchases and the name on her card.

It wouldn’t have been remarkable in itself if he weren’t so hungry. He’d burned bridges he shouldn’t have while he was ablaze, and now the only people who thought of him kindly were through this stupidly quaint little shop. He was too ashamed of his bullshit to be ready to show his face in those places right now, but he also craved chasing the stage and the dream he’d stayed alive for.

It was just a made-up story he was attaching to someone, he knew this. Maybe she went home and did everything she could to fade into pleasant background like a houseplant. But he’d rather pretend she went to the shows he wished he were going to, that her fingertips were callused in the places his were going soft, and pretend like he still could smell that stuffy, stale sweat from a venue. Maybe he hadn’t burned it away completely from his life and future.

Occasionally, he still wished he was starving, but he’d bury his hands in mulch and dig space for a new plant before he gave in to dumb thoughts like that.

*****

The first time they had a conversation, it was because she forgot something. A big something, big enough that Ranmaru wondered how someone could have a head on their shoulders but forget this.

It was a long, flat portfolio bag. He flipped through it to figure out what it was and tried to not look past that. It was tempting, though, because the contents made him feel the tiniest bit sated for the first time since he’d started working here.

They were flash sheets for tattoos. It had to be hers, right? There was energy to them that he’d ached for but turned his back from. So when she came back, he brought it up very plainly.

“You forgot something here,” he said when she came up to the counter. He produced the portfolio bag.

“.......Oh.”

“What, is it not yours?”

“No, no, it is! I just didn’t realize I’d even lost it!”

“How the hell did you manage that?!”

“A swiss cheese brain full of holes,” she laughed. “...Also, I’ve been really busy.”

“What would make you so busy you forget a giant stack of art like that?”

“Uh…”

“....Whatever. It’s none of my business.” He started to properly ring her up before something occurred to him. “You bought the same succulent last week,” he commented, furrowing his brow. “And a few other times before. What’s so great about it, anyways?”

She made a face of discomfort and surprise, and he felt the same distant shame that he messed this last (even if imagined) connection to that life, too.

“...maybe you can help me, because I keep killing it.”

“You killed a succulent in a week?!”

“No! I mean. I don’t know, is that even possible?”

“First time for anything,” Ranmaru snorted.

“Okay,” she said, putting hands on the counter challengingly. “Don’t get the wrong idea. I’m not one of those serial plant killers.”

Ranmaru just looked back at her incredulously. “You sure about that?”

“If it’s not a succulent, I know what I’m doing! I got a whole brood of chili plants and herbs and spiderplants…”

“You’re overwatering it.”

“You haven’t even seen the plant.”

“Yeah, I don’t have to. Everything else you mentioned doesn’t shit the bed if you water them too much, and succulents are stupidly sensitive to that kind of stuff. Are the leaves falling off if you barely even poke them?”

“......Yeah…” She looked apprehensive, almost resentful for a moment.

Ranmaru knew he shouldn’t, but he just kept talking. “I can’t tell you what you wanna do with your plants, but it sounds overwatered.  Don’t water it at all for a couple weeks. Make sure the drainage is good, repot it if it isn’t. Bring it in if you’re still fucking it up.”

“You sure are rude as shit when a plant buddy’s life is on the line, huh?”

“What’s the point of buying a plant if you’re just going to kill it?! You’re just throwing away your money that way,” he grumbled, embarrassed. Him, caring about plants passionately. That didn’t feel right for his image, but it felt more wrong to just let people uselessly throw away their time and money just to give a living thing no future.

“I mean, I’m also buying dupes right now to spruce up my workspace, it’s not like I just have a graveyard for my cash and failed succulents.”  

Ranmaru grunted. “Just bring ‘em in if they’re still giving you trouble. I can give you some cartons to make carrying ‘em easier.”

“Ahhhh, nah, don’t worry about it. I work across the street. It’s no problem.”

“Where?” He had a feeling he knew already.

“Oh, the tattoo parlor. I’m actually headed back there right now.”

“....Guess I could just as easily go over there.”

“Hey, and you could get a tattoo from me while you’re at it!” she laughed. “Here, hold on.” She fumbled a little before handing over her business card. Ranmaru studied it briefly before pocketing it gratefully.

When she tried to hand him money, he held a hand up.

“...Pay when you stop killing ‘em. I should’ve checked in sooner, and you get so much from here already, anyways.”

“...You’re sure.”

“If you feel guilty, then take my advice seriously.”

“....Weird business model, but I like it. I can’t give you a discount on ink, if that’s what you’re after.”

“Hell no. Go back to work. Come back when you stop watering them so much.”

“Alright, fine, fine. You drive a hard bargain,” she said with a laugh, scooping the plant into her hand. “I’ll see you next time I fuck ‘em up some other way.”

She left, and Ranmaru realized she forgot her portfolio bag again.

******

He didn’t do much of anything except sleep, eat, take care of the neighborhood strays, and work anymore, but he thought about practicing bass again. He didn’t have amps, pedals, or much of anything anymore, either sold in desperation or lifted by former bandmembers in spite, but his actual basses he couldn’t let go of. Sentimentality or some promise to himself this arrangement was temporary, he guessed.

He studied the business card a lot. Something about the style of the art on it felt right, beyond it being the dose of the studs, sweat, and tears he missed. He didn’t bother trying to describe it to himself further than that; it just felt right, and that’s all he needed to know, but it didn’t stop him from lying awake in bed, staring at it as he struggled to sleep or get out.

Eventually that led to the temptation of looking through the portfolio more thoroughly. He gave in after washing his hands so thoroughly he wouldn’t get the dirt of potting soil or the grease of human hands on it. Not out of secrecy, more out of respect.

Not all of them were things he’d say he was interested in -- science fiction, cartoons, dinosaurs, other stuff he didn’t recognize -- but so much was riffing on images, bands, lyrics, album covers that built his tastes in rock. Even models of bass guitars he’d tried to save up for, once upon a time. It didn’t match the tattoowork he was used to seeing, the lines and compositions feeling more like they belonged in a comic book or a gig poster.

It felt good. It was a small vision of the kind of future he’d wanted. Art and energy like that, paired with his music. He’d forgotten how the excitement of chasing a good future felt, much less feeling like it was even vaguely within grasping distance.

His eyes fell on an image that wouldn’t leave him. A severed, snarling wolf head, out of which winding leaves and vines and stems grew, blooming into orchids.

*****

She didn’t come back for weeks. He went about this life as usual, but some days he’d find his fingers sliding over the smooth neck of one of his basses, missing their calluses as the strings dug into them. But the motions never left him, at least, and they hit notes like barely any time had passed.

He should give that portfolio back to her already. But he’d found himself looking at its contents more and more when he missed the stage so much he physically ached. He couldn’t be imagining this feeling this art made him have, not after this long.

At one point he made a copy of the wolf with orchids growing out of it. He cut it out, unbuttoned his shirt, taped it over his heart, and looked at himself in the mirror, and for the first time since the old couple took him in, he didn’t feel like a houseplant.

*****

He came to the parlor with the portfolio in hand on a lunch break soon after that. She looked uncomfortably unoccupied, her area empty of clients while the other tattoo beds were occupied. He didn’t bother with the receptionist before calling her name. She practically jumped out of her skin from surprise.

He just presented the portfolio bag.

“...Whoops.”

“Do you just not want your art back?”

“...It just slipped my mind.”

Because you’ve been busy, Ranmaru thought to himself as he looked at the empty tattoo bed.

“Did you kill your new plants yet?”

She straightened up and her whole demeanor changed, from the moon to the sun. “Now that I can rub in your face. Look, look, come see.”

She had a small planter of succulents, nestled among spideplants and a red prayer he remembered selling her. The spiderplant and red prayer looked healthy. The succulents didn’t look amazing, but they certainly weren’t on their way to meet their maker.

“Not bad. I’ll rec you some better succulent soil next time you come in. Whenever that is.”

“I figured I’d wait more than one watering cycle before I came in parading like a pageant queen.”

“Too many and I bet you’d be holding another plant funeral,” he said with a wry smile. “But take your shit back already. I’m tired of all your art being at my place where I’m the only one looking at it.”

“...Wait, hold on. Did you look through it?”

“....Sorry. It’s been weeks. I liked your business card and curiosity got the better of me.”

“Oh…” She looked not disappointed, just surprised. “So...you mean, like. Thumbing through the pages looking at it, not just staring at the bag look at it.”

“Is it a secret project or something?”

“No, no. Just…” She hesitated. “Some flash sheets that didn’t do well is all.”

“Really?” Ranmaru was surprised. “These?”

“...Yes? Did I forget something else in there?”

“No. Just. Surprised they didn’t do well. I like ‘em. There’s a good energy to them.”

“Well, that makes you the first,” she said with a hollow laugh.

Ranmaru barely considered with his head what he was about to ask. He’d already chewed it over so much and knew in his heart his answer that he didn’t need to hesitate.

“If nobody else claimed it, I want one of them,” he said resolutely. “The wolf with the orchids.”

“...What, like, now?”

“I’m on lunch, I can’t do now. But….when’s the earliest you got?”

She laughed grimly. “When do you get off work?”

“Six.”

“Then I’m available at six.”

“Then I’ll be here.”

She looked at him in disbelief.

“...You really want it that bad?”

“Don’t tell me what I want,” he growled. “I saw it and it felt right, thinking about it on me. Orchids are a part of my name, anyway.”

“....Okay, you know what? Let’s do this properly. We’ll do a consult at six. I’ll edit the design so it’s more personalized to you, then we’ll schedule an actual appointment you’re actually prepped for so you don’t pass out on the table. And don’t -- “ She caught him about to insist before the words could come out of his mouth. “-- I’m sure you think you’re real tough, but you can’t just tough guy your nervous system into taking more pain unprepared.”

“Fine. See you at six.”

Ranmaru wanted to tell her the hurry was less because he thought he could take it, and more because he was so ready to have it on him. He didn’t, though, and just left, head buzzing with hazy, overwhelming excitement he didn’t know how to express.

*************

Consulting with her on the drawing was more fun than Ranmaru had had in weeks, maybe months. She stayed past her coworkers to do the consult, so they had the parlor to themselves to discuss edits. She played doom metal in the background, sludgy and slow enough that they could properly have a conversation, but the energy as she discussed the drawing with him, drew in edits, and made conversation was exhilarating like a concert.

It was so easy to talk. Even if he was short or blunt, it didn’t seem to stop her from continuing the conversation, and every development they pushed it in just felt good. He didn’t feel invaded, but he didn’t feel insignificant, either, and the way the drawing was going, he felt a kind of known he had lacked.

“I still can’t believe you want your first ink on your pec like that,” she remarked as she refined linework. Ranmaru enjoyed watching how her pen moved.

“It’s over my heart. Not just my chest.”

“That’s, uh.” She hesitated before capping the pen. “.......Are you really sure about this?”

“...” Ranmaru felt himself recoil at the thought of telling her the depth of what this drawing made him feel, but he wanted to communicate, somehow, that he couldn’t imagine regretting this. “I’m absolutely sure.”

“.......” She hesitated again. “This isn’t….a pity thing, right?”

The thought to hold his tongue actually managed to occur to him in time. The doubt she expressed pissed him off in so many different ways. That she was unsure enough to tell him, and that it was there to begin with. The thought of throwing away this connection just to be pissed made his stomach twist, and he thought of the person he saw in the mirror with the drawing taped to his chest that first time.

“This isn’t a pity thing,” he said stiffly as he forced his voice down. “....I saw that drawing and imagined myself with it. And I liked that vision of myself more than the current me.”

“Oh god,” she said, her face bright red. “That’s so goddamn deep. My dumb fuckin’ wolf really made you feel that?”

“It’s not dumb!” he barked. “Why’re you calling it dumb to me? I’m about to get it tattooed on me, aren’t I? Be prouder of your work!”

She took a deep breath after a moment of being totally taken aback. “....You’re right. Thanks. I should be more professional about this. So….my absolutely majestic, heaven-sent fuckin’ wolf really made you feel all that?”

Ranmaru felt his mouth crook into a smile. “Yeah. I want it to be mine, and I want that better me to be mine, too.”

She smiled back widely. “I’ll do your tit justice, then.”

***************

The appointment was that weekend. When she pressed the stencil against his bare chest, he felt the hunger in him sated for just a moment. Not in a carnal urge sort of way, but more like the path forward felt brighter. Possible. Changes and connection and a future was possible again. He wanted more ink from her already, but he also wanted it to not just be that. He wanted a friendship.

“Okay,” she said as he laid on the table in front of her. “Ready?”

The whir of the machine and needles started and stirred a nervousness in his gut that he hadn’t expected, and he hesitated and gasped for a sec.

“...You OK?”

“Yeah,” he grunted. “Just…nervous.”

“Take a deep breath. It’s not too late to rethink or reschedule if you need more time.”

“No.” He was resolute. “I want this.”

She paused. “....I can’t do this the whole time. But just to get you comfortable.”

She offered her left hand to him to squeeze. He hesitated for a moment before taking it, folding each finger over hers. He can’t remember the last time he touched someone like this.

“...Okay. Deep breath. Let out out slowly…there we go. Ready?”

“Ready.”

The needle plunged into him, and while it hurt, he felt excitement and renewal spreading through to his fingertips.

[zankivich]

The Arrangement: CEO’s Son/Dom!Shawn x Black Sub Reader Chapter 5

Hiya! This is the chapter when we get to figure out a little more of why Shawn is the way that he is. I’m not interested in villains for villains sake; I’m interested in complex characters in need of healing and kindness and also to maybe fight for themselves a little bit. I think this is gonna get very interesting if the thoughts in my head are anything to go off of. Also I try not to bug y’all too often but I am very very poor at the moment so if you did want to buy me a Kofi right here. That would be life changing. Ya girl got bills. K bye. 

WARNINGS: sex without a condom (gotta wrap it up folks), a mini panic attack w/o much description, and just some general softness. 

*Shawn’s point of view*

He’s in the studio. It’s his happy place. He remembered being eight years old, just barely big enough to climb into the seat, but finding something magical about the sound board. His nanny used to pick him up from school and he would beg her to take him to where his dad was working. They only started letting him go once they realized he’d stop throwing temper tantrums. He thrived there. He listened quietly and he learned about how to track vocals, how to create rhythms and what actual sound waves could look like for a vocal. And then he was thirteen, and his dad brought this guy in.

He was in baggy jeans and a green sweatshirt. His guitar had a plus sign on it, and there were scratches against the body where he’d strummed too hard. The sound guy told him his name was Ed Sheeran. He was there to sing for his dad. That day changed his life forever.

He went from playing soccer every day after school, to playing guitar and creating covers. His dad happily put him in the guitar lessons and the piano lessons and the vocal lessons. It was the outlet he never knew he needed, but couldn’t live without. Shawn was always thoroughly convinced he hadn’t been destined for much. Was never smart in school, never particularly passionate about anything either. And since the day he was born, all he knew was that his dad was powerful and his dad had money, and that meant one day he would have the same. Not because of who he was or what he accomplished, but because of who his dad was. Music changed that for him.

“Hey, pull back on the reverb?” He suggested to the producer. “It’s clouding the vocal. Trust me.”

There’s a guy in the booth. His dad’s new golden star. Niall Horan. His first album had done twice the numbers they anticipated, and so after a North American tour to test the waters he quickly pulled him in to try and do it again. That’s why Shawn was there of course. To oversee the creative vision, and “provide feedback”. What it really meant was, his dad knew he could determine what was good and what was bad, so why waste his time when he could have Shawn do it. As far as his dad was concerned, he should feel lucky that he was even allowed to be a part of the process.

“Aye, this is just isn’t feeling right. I’m coming out.” Niall said from the booth in his thick irish accent.

There’s a room of writers, but it’s actually pretty organic in comparison to some of the other artists under his dad’s belt. Two of them are friends of Horan’s from home, who had followed him along for the ride. He plops down on one of the couches and reaches for a guitar. His fingers pluck absently at the strings and Shawn can’t help but glance over there instead of filling out whatever dumbass report his dad was asking him to fill out. There’s a redheaded woman on the couch who started playing alongside him. Another guy uses his lap as drums, and they just start jamming with each other.

It’s electric. It’s that thing that made his stomach lurch like he was at the top of a rollercoaster. It’s what left him more at home in his own skin than anything else ever could. The energy in the room actually shifts. He swears he can feel the music. Like actually feel every strum in his fingertips as if its his hands on the guitar. It’s authentic and real and they’re just playing for fun.

But, somewhere in there he remembers that this is all he’ll ever get. Just watching from the sidelines while everyone else gets to play. It breaks his heart. It makes him sick to his stomach. So sick that he leaves abruptly in the middle of the session crashing outside and choking desperately for air. This is what he got. A noose that always felt too tight, with the hope every day that he just might get the chance to breathe. This was it for him.

***

*Y/n’s point of view*

Shawn: I need you.

y/n: That’s gonna be a little difficult. I’m in Miami, remember? First show of the tour for Grande.

Shawn: Well when are you coming back?

y/n: I’m staying through the first week of shows to make sure all the kinks get worked out. No pun intended.

Shawn: I don’t think I can wait that long.

You were walking past the merch booth getting set up and stopped to chat with some of the people working it. You had a lot of respect for merch booth people, depending on the show--and the pop shows were always the worst--shit could get hectic and fast. They deserved tons more respect than they got, and you were happy to show them some.

You peered down at your phone and read Shawn’s text over again. It felt a little off, even for him. You had gone stretches of time without hooking up before. There were times where he needed to be in LA while you stayed behind in New York, times where you had one show in one city, while he had one in another. It hadn’t been a problem before. You always just found time when the two of you available, and went from there. Shawn hadn’t ever pushed it further than that before.

y/n: everything alright?

Shawn: my dad is satan

y/n: well retweet sis! We been knew that.

y/n: Sorry. I wish I could be there to relieve the stress. If you wanna hop on a flight and meet me in Miami feel free lol

You head for the sound check, checking in to make sure that that stage was being set up, so that  meet and greet could go off without a hitch later. You nearly trip over one of Ariana’s dogs and die, but other than that it’s fine. There’s hours and hours of labor that have to go into a show before the doors ever open, before those kids every step inside to see their idol get up on the stage. It’s your job, along with a host of other incredibly talented and hard working people, to make sure that those hours seamingly don’t even exist. You don’t mind it. Back in the early days you used to go on whole tours to make sure your artists were taken care of. It wasn’t until you turned thirty that you realized slowing down a little bit was in everyone’s best interest.

When you’re not needed you set up in an office space to answer emails and check in with the office. The afternoon passes quickly, and before you know doors are opening up, and the kids begin to pile in. You’re backstage making sure the band and Ariana are good to go, when the tour manager comes up to you looking panicked and confused the way he always did.

“Hey, y/n! Sorry to bother you, but can I borrow you for a second?”

You clap hands with Ariana wishing her luck she won’t need before heading off with Mike.

“What’s up, Mike? Everything okay?”

He nodded. “Yea! It’s just that I got a call from the head of security at the back of the venue, and there’s a guest for you who doesn’t have a pass.”

“A guest for me? I don’t have any guests tonight. Did they catch a name?”

“It’s uh...It’s Manny Mendes’ kid? Shawn?”

“What?!”

Mike winced. “He uh, he told them you personally invited him. Guy must be charming, or they probably would’ve turned him away.”

Charming, your black ass. He was a nuisance is what he was.

“I didn’t personally invite him anywhere! Take me to this dumbass, please.” You groaned in frustration.

The whole walk there you’re just trying to figure out how the hell he managed to get here that fast! Who takes a back handed joke, and then actually follows through it? Shawn fucking Mendes. This man was going to be a thorn in your side for the foreseeable future. God, was he lucky his dick was big.

Sure enough, at the back of the venue at one of the stage doors, Shawn is sitting there with a couple of security guards. His hands rest easily in his pockets, and he’s telling them a fucking joke that has them laughing their asses off. Where was the justice?!

“Hey. Took you long enough.” He chuckled reaching for a duffle bag at his feet.

What was he moving in?

“Shawn what in the hell are you doing here?”

He stared at you incredulously. “You told me to come!”

“I was kidding! How in the hell did you get here that fast anyway?”

“Honey, we have a private jet. Surely that’s not surprising to you. What are you gonna turn me away at the door right now?”

Mike is still staring at you with nothing but confusion on his face. He probably had no idea you even knew Shawn Mendes, let alone enough to accidentally invite him to Miami. This was bad. This was bad, bad, bad.

Your gritted your teeth. “He is very unfortunately with me. Mike give him a pass.”

“Are you sure th--”

“Mike just given him the damn pass.” You sighed turning on your heel to disappear back inside.

Shawn keeps up with you easily with his obnoxiously long legs. Mike power walks behind the two of you ear piece and ipad still blaring.

“Mike you can run along before curtain call. I’ve got things here.”

It’s not an option. It’s a directive, and he quickly follows it leaving you alone with your headache of the day.

“You really call the shots around here, aye?”

“Little bit. Follow me.”

You lead him to the little office space you have in one of the green rooms, and quickly close the door before more people find out that the two of you are together. He takes a seat on one of the couches like he belongs. You want to pull your hair out.

“What in the hell Shawn?” You groaned. “We have rules. Very specific rules.”

“I know. Look, I know! But you offered, okay? And I couldn’t...I wasn’t gonna wait a week. I need this. I need you.”

That certainly was a little more honest than the two of you typically got with each other.

You paused to take a better look at him, and it isn’t the prettiest sight. The smile and witty laughter from outside was a thin facade to the bags beneath his eyes and the frown that’s evident now. He looks a little pale, like paler than usual, and if you didn’t know any better you’d say he hadn’t been sleeping well. You did know better. In fact you were starting to realize that maybe you knew him a little better than you gave yourself credit for.

You took a seat on the table in front of him, your legs knocking together in the small amount of space between you.

“What’s going on? And don’t say it’s just cause you’re stressed.”

He peered up at you, his fingers tapping anxiously against his thighs.

“Since when do you care? That’s not exactly within the parameters of our relationship now is it?”

You rolled your eyes. “Not all of us go through life only living based off of what we can take from others. I know it’s a wild concept to you, but some of us? Some of us can actually be decent human beings.”

“Great so I’m a piece of shit and you’re a saint, is that it?”

“Why are you trying to fight with me? Don’t be a child; stop deflecting. Just tell me what the hell is wrong, and maybe we can fix it.”

“You can’t fix it, y/n. I’m stuck. I’m always going to be stuck okay? There is no fixing me.”

He looked exhausted. And it wasn’t the hard day at work exhausted either. This looked bone deep in him. You couldn’t tell if this was something you’d just never noticed, or if he was letting down a wall for you to see behind for the first time. Whatever it was, you didn’t like it. There wasn’t time to work through why that was, or what it meant for you to care enough to want to fix it. You just knew that you didn’t like it. That’s all that mattered.

You reached forward, your fingers pushing at his knees to make more room for you to straddle his lap. His hands immediately came up to rest on your ass, and you slid your hand over his heart. It was beating like crazy. He just needed to slow down. He needed you to help him slow down. When you kissed, his fingers dug a little more deeply into the flesh of your ass. He groaned softly against your mouth and pulled you closer. It wasn’t necessarily that you didn’t kiss at all in the time that you spent together. Shawn had no problem dominating your mouth. It just so happened that in a relationship built on dominating your body there were a lot of other things you could be doing than kissing.

His lips were still heavenly though. He knew how to tug at your jaw, how to pull you in closer and run his tongue perfectly along the roof of your mouth. It was as intoxicating as all the other things he seemed to be able to do with his body. Only instead of quickly moving to the next phase the way that he usually would, he kept you there a while longer. His lips moved against yours and your arms wrapped tight around him. You could feel his shoulders release beneath your touch, could feel his hands relax against your ass. By the time he flips you to lay your body down against the couch, fingers already tugging to get his jeans down his thighs, your lips are buzzing, and you feel kind of lightheaded. You wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Tell me what you need.” You whispered against his lips. “Tell me how to please you.”

“Need to be in you. Right now.” He muttered reaching beneath your skirt.

His fingers found their way between the fabric of your underwear, gently nudging between your folds where you were already wet. He tugged the thing band down off of your legs and tucked them into his jean pocket.

He groaned softly plunging his middle finger inside. “You’re always wet for me. Know exactly how to be good for me.”

He curved up and to the right, rubbing quickly against your walls to get you where you needed to go. This wasn’t about foreplay. This wasn’t a scene. There was no plan here. It was frantic and a little messy. But you liked it. You liked it more than you knew what to do with.

“Are you my good girl?” He panted jerking his finger up and down to touch the thing inside of you that made you thrash.

“Yes. Yes, I am. Please, Shawn. Please?”

“The faster you cum, the faster I can get inside this pussy.”

His bicep tensed and his breath came out in harsh pants against the side of your neck. His fingers won’t stop, won’t let up, and your body gives him exactly the reaction he wants every single time. It’s like magnets. Like he knows exactly how to touch you to make you scream. And you do. Always.

His thumb rubs circles on your clit and your body practically melts. Your back arches and your moans get higher as your orgasm hits. Not one to ever be outdone unless it’s by himself, Shawn withdrew his fingers and immediately pushed his way inside of you. The stretch alone in conjunction with the weight of him pressing you down into the couch was enough to heighten your orgasm to a place it’d never been before.

“You’re so fucking tight, shit y/n.”

“I can’t fucking breathe--Shit! it’s so good!”

The arm of the couch provides a kind of leverage you couldn’t get if you prayed for it, and Shawn’s taking full advantage. There’s something different in the way that he handles you. He’s a little more desperate than you’re used to. His hips are less skilled precision and more broken lunges. But you love it just the same. Push your hips up against him chasing something similar, chasing a high that will take you both straight off that cliff together.

“I love being inside you.” He whimpered against your chest. “Nothing feels like you. Wanna give it to you so good.”

“You do. You fucking do.”

His teeth sink into the flesh of your shoulder and it drives you up a fucking wall. You dig desperately into the couch with your heels and cry out for him. It’s fast and dirty and not at all like what you’re used to. It’s just him, just him in all your senses. And you just wanted to give that back to him tenfold.

“Want you to cum for me again. Want you to come while I shoot my load in your pussy.”

“O--Okay. Okay I’ll cum, just please keep fucking me just like that. Please, just like that”

He pushes himself up onto his knees and moves your thigh up so that your knee is pressed against the arm of the couch. His dick doesn’t even make sense at this point. It’s like amnesia. Dick amnesia. But, he does this thing where he twists his hips every time he pushes his way back into you, and it makes you cum like a waterfall. And the second you’re cumming, his thrusts deteriorate into quick, rugged slaps against your sex. When he peaks, it’s euphoria for you both. Absolute Euphoria.

For a while neither of you move except for the pounding of your hearts in unison with one another. You can’t feel your toes, and it’s so sensitive to feel him inside you in this way. It’s not just good sex it’s a feeling that he gives you in wide abundance. You feel complete with him on top of you. Sated and fulfilled and taken care of.

“Wow.” He chuckled leaning down to kiss you roughly. “That was incredible.”

You giggled. “Yea. We’re good at that. Real good.”

He slides off your body and disappears into the bathroom for a few minutes. He comes back with some damp paper towels and cleans tenderly between your legs.

“It’s not my egytpian cotton, but it gets the job done.” He chuckled.

He already looks entirely different. There’s color in his cheeks and his eyes have that obnoxious sparkle shit that they do. You like him a lot better when he looks this way. And there’s a part of you that feels a sense of pride at being able to bring that out of him.

“Thank you, kind of.” You snorted softly.

You fix your skirt while he pulls his jeans back up. You can’t help but notice you managed to yank the neck of his t-shirt horribly out of place somewhere in the midst of your climax. The least you can do is grab him one of the merch shirts. It hits him in the face when you toss it, but that’s at least a few more seconds you have to calm the hell down.

“What’s this?”

“Figured we didn’t want people asking questions. Put it on, I’m sure there’s still some more of Ari’s set left.”

His eyes widened a little and he stared back at the t-shirt before looking back up at you.

“You want me to stay?”

It’s your turn for your eyes to widen and for the ground to become more interesting.

“You don’t have to obviously. You got what you came for. Ari, just puts on a really good show.” You mumbled.

“No I--I’d love to see the show. Haven’t seen her since Coachella.”

He changed quickly out of his t-shirt, sliding on a God Is A Woman shirt instead. The outfit change is a good one in your estimation.

“Great now give me my underwear back.” You murmured resituating your lanyard that got you in everywhere around your neck.

“Oh. Yea, no.”

You looked up at him and there he was leaning against the same part of the couch that he’d rammed you again not ten minutes ago. His long legs crossed in a similar fashion to his arms across his chest. That confidence was just obviously roaring in his system all over again. He was back, just like that.

“Excuse me?” You asked, eyebrow raised and pointed.

“I’m gonna keep them. Kinda want you to think about the fact that you won’t have any panties on all night, and I’ll be the only one who knows. Every time you have to yell at someone to do their job right, every time someone from the crowd bumps into you, it’ll just be you and I who know that you’re my good little girl. So I’m gonna keep them until I’m ready to give them back to you.”

And just what in the fuck does someone do with a speech like that?

“Yea….okay.”

You leave the greenroom behind in the hopes that no one will be able to tell what was done in there that night. Instinctively you reach for his hand and tug him along behind you to get the pits. It’s a sold out show, so there’s definitely a hell of a lot of people there, but you make it work nonetheless. With only the first half of the show missed anyway there’s still plenty of talent left for him to see.

At first you thought that you needed him to see what you were capable of. Ariana was all talent, all vocals, and iconicism, and magic. But, it was you that brought it all together, you who coordinated every little piece to make sure it all ran together without problem. Before you met Shawn, before ever deciding to do the little arrangement he schemed for the both of you, there had been a need to prove yourself. It came with the territory as a woman, let alone as a Black woman in a white male dominated industry.

Something happens in the middle of the show though, when the moon hangs from the ceiling, and her voice is belting out through the whole arena. You peer up at him watching the show, and there’s no ego to be had. It’s not like when other music execs come to visit shows, and they're just looking for a way to upstage you. He’s just there. Enjoying every note and letting the vibe of the crowd fill him in that way that you loved and cherished about live shows. It’s the first time outside of the bedroom that he eases the tension for you, that he gives you a sort of metaphorical pat on the back to say, “you don’t need to stand tall. Put that away for right now.”

You take a deep breath and let your head rest against his shoulder before there’s even room to think about it. Before you lose the moment, before the tension finds a way to ease back into your body, he wraps his arms around your waist from behind. Ariana keeps singing. The crowd keeps screaming. And he doesn’t let up until the lights come back on.

***

“Where are you staying tonight?” You asked, trying to pay attention to the break down of the venue happening around you.

“Wherever you’re staying I guess.”

You peered over at the way that he was leaning against one of the barricades, still dressed in his God Is A Woman shirt, with a smirk upon his lips.

“So fucking cocky, all the time.” You snorted. “I’ve got a lot of work left to do here. I’m always the last to leave from a show.”

“That’s fine. You want me to head up to the hotel, or should I wait behind for you?”

“You’re really staying huh?”

“Told my dad I’m doing research. I think he’s found a new intern to screw, so he’s not really checking in at the moment. I could use a little vacation.” He hummed. “You want me to go?”

You bit your lip and ran your fingers over your waist where his hands had touched. It was dangerous letting him in like this. You knew it. You had to know it.

“No I don’t want you to go.”

He smiled softly. “Guess I’m not going, then.”

“Guess not.”

“Besides if I left?” He murmured stepping forward to cup your hip intimately. “When would you ever get your thong back?”

Bastard.

It’s well past one in the morning before you get to leave. Your feet hurt and you really need a shower and the hotel can’t come fast enough. There’s a car around back waiting for you, and Shawn trails right along side you with his louis vuitton duffle bag that again just reeks of unnecessary indulgence, but you let him have it this time. The soft leather seats of the BMW and the gentle shake of the car is enough to lull you towards sleep. You were the queen of sleeping on cars. Touring life was perfect for you. What you weren’t used to was having someone beside you too as you made yourself comfortable.

“Are you falling asleep right now?” Shawn chuckled.

“I’m just resting my eyes.” you mumbled heading leaning back against the headrest, eyes closed. “Don’t worry, I’ll be plenty well rested for sex later.”

“Yea...Okay.”

*thirty minutes later*

“Honey, wake up.”

“Mmmm...No.”

“No?”

“No. I’m comfy, Ti. Leave me alone.” You whined snuggling deeper into her shoulder.

“As much as I have a feeling Tianna could kick my ass, I don’t think our biceps quite look alike. I am definitely not Ti.”

Your eyes popped open in shock alerting you to the fact that you wrapped your whole fucking body around this man’s arm and he had done nothing to stop you. The gal! The injustice!

“What are you doing? Why did you let me do that?” You gasped detangling yourself from his grasp.

He rolled his eyes. “I didn’t ‘let’ you do anything. Your body tends to have a mind of its own. Apparently even in slumber. We’re here though, princess.”

Sure enough the hotel is there staring back at you from the window. You had really fallen asleep. And he had let you.

“Shit. Okay. Let’s go.”

The hotel room is neat and pristine. You won’t be there nearly long enough to do any damage to it. Shawn places his duffle next to yours and starts his routine that he always does at night. His watch comes off. The bracelet. The rings. And it is insane the effect that it has on your body. Your spine straightens. And he turns to look at you over his shoulder, curls extra fluffy without any product in it, and it just runs through your body like a fucking current.

He makes his way over to you and his fingers skim your chin like it’s fine. Like he’s not shirtless in front of you with a six pack and perfect wisps of chest hair. You kind of wanna ask him if the women he sleeps with ever don’t want to get undressed in front of him, but then a yawn leaves your lips and that thought gets left far behind, along with the moment.

He smiled at you softly and tapped your cheek.

“Look you’re exhausted. Why don’t we just wait for the morning. It’s no big deal.”

You wrapped your hand around his wrist to keep him with you.

“It’s fine. I swear.”

He shook his head. “No. It’s really not. Let’s go to bed.”

“Shawn--”

“I said consent at all times didn’t I?” He interrupted. “You’re too tired to consent. We’re not doing it.”

Too tired to consent. That was certainly a new one.

But the way that he settled himself into his side of the bed told you negotiation wasn’t an option. And you were fucking exhausted. So, you crawled beneath the blankets and let your body relax for only the second time that night. How odd for it to be that both of those times were because of Shawn? And what the hell did that mean?

His scent was in your sheets. It was on your skin and in your nose. He was there. This all consuming force that just seemed to fill the space around him infinitely. To the point where you barely felt like you fit in the bed beside him. And yet he sometimes looked so small that you wondered how he could ever fill any space at all. You couldn’t ignore the look on his face in the green room. The exhaustion. The smallness. What was up with that? And why were you thinking of him so damn much anyway?

“You’ve gotta shut your mind down to actually fall asleep.” Shawn mumbled from somewhere in the dark.

You rolled your eyes. “Thank you for mansplaining sleep to me.”

“I’m not--just...Look, what’s on your mind?”

“Nothing. What makes you think there’s something on my mind?” You asked defensively.

“I just can hear you fucking thinking from all the other way over here. Why do you have to be so stubborn all the time?”

“I’m not stubborn!”

You had one of those out of body experiences where you actually hear yourself speak, and it subsequently proved his point. Rude.

“It’s genetic.” You murmured softly. “Sorry. I guess I uh I’m just not used to having someone else sleep in bed with me.”

“Well thank you. We fall asleep after fucking most times though?”

“Yes well there’s a difference between being fucked into a coma and just lying beside the person.”

He took a deep breath. “Do you want me to leave? I can just go get another room.”

“No it’s fine! It’s fine. I swear. I’m just...adjusting.”

“Fine. You...adjust, then. I’ll try not to breathe too much and disturb you.”

It was a long night.

***

*Shawn’s point of view*

The sun fills the room and it’s a complete and utter nuisance to him. Too early. Too bright. Too not cuddly. So he snuggles his face back into the warmth and ignores it for a little while longer. It’s the most well rested he’s felt in months. So well rested that he doesn’t want to leave, doesn’t want to be without this warmth that he’s never felt before. And why would he? Why would he ever want to leave this?

He opens his eyes and all that he sees in brown. Cocoa brown with deep red undertones that light up beneath the sunrays. It’s the first time he’s ever woken up before her, her mental clock seeming to always pull her out of bed before his dick is even awake let alone his mind. The fact that she’s asleep is a miracle within itself. The fact that he gets to look at her while she does it feels like maybe a little extra miracle on the side.

There’s a freckle on the divet in the small of her back that he’s never noticed before. Her bonnet to cover her hair is the same color as her nails and there’s a part of him that needs to know if it was a conscious decision or not. Knowing y/n, it could go either way. The covers had slid down her back and he’d wrapped himself around her at some point in the night. And it was somehow the best night sleep he’d had in so long. No sex. No ropes. No lube. Just sleep.

He wasn’t dumb. Something was different. Something had been different from the very beginning. His hooks up didn’t sleep over. He didn’t fly to anyone, ever. Hell, he didn’t even drive to anyone. Uber was practically part of his foreplay in life.  How the fuck did he end up in miami grabing her waist while Ariana Grande scerenaded them by fucking moonlight? He didn’t do this. He didn’t grab hips if he wasn’t fucking. He didn’t tell a woman he’d rather sleep then have sex with them. He needed to end this. And fast.

However . . . she was still asleep. And the sun was still just coming up. So what was really the harm in lying there a little longer? He pressed his arm back over her waist, thumb rubbing smoothly into the skin of her tummy. He’d get up in just a minute, would end it in just a minute. For sure.

*three days later*

“I will be back in less than a week.” She says.

“It will be over in no time.” She says.

“Stop fucking biting my thighs while I’m answering work emails!” She says.

After a break full of rushing her off to different rooms with locks on them in the venues so he could get his head between her thighs, it was finally over. His dad had finally called to ask why the hell his new Director of Talent Management was nowhere to be fucking found. It was time for him to leave, which meant days before he would see her again. Which was fine. Totally fine.

“So hear me out,” He argued as they drove to the final venue, he’d get to see her out. “I just think maybe Tianna should be taking me into account when she’s making your schedule. That’s all.”

She snorted. “I am not going to ask that woman to schedule dick appointments for you.”

“They’re not for just me! I’m thinking of you here too. Had I not taken off from my busy schedule to come to Miami, you might have actually combusted.”

“Women can go longer than twelve hours without sex Shawn. It’s yall who act like the world will explode if somebody doesn’t touch your dick for two seconds.”

He rolled his eyes at her. “I’m just saying it might be nice to know that you’re gonna be gone for weeks on end, ya know?”

She peered over at him from her phone where she’d been working away. She seemed to work harder and longer than anyone he’d ever met. Even more than his dad, which is explained why he couldn’t stand her.

“You could always...hook up with someone else while I’m away.” She said.

Her eyes are curious, watchful. There’s something behind the question that she’s asking, but he doesn’t know that on account of him being stupid. All he knew was that women didn’t just offer up the opportunity to sleep with other people. Even his past hook ups grew easily attached. It was his main reason for never repeating. Who was this woman?

“What makes you think I’m not, already?” He asked trying to match her eye contact.

She bit her lip. “The fact that you’re here right now.”

“Are you...hooking up with other people?”

“What if I was?”

He broke his gaze, not having it in him to keep staring at her. She was definitely stronger than him there.

“Whatever. Wouldn’t matter. ‘Snot like we’re together.”

She nodded. “Exactly.”

“Yea, exactly.”

The rest of the ride is silent. She was getting dropped off at her venue to continue on with Ariana through the rest of the week. He was heading back for NYC to get back to work. It would be a few more days before she flew back home. But, that was alright. He could wholeheartedly find other things to fill out his day. He didn’t need her at all.

The car pulls up to the arena and she pauses before she exits the car. She looks back at him like she’s waiting for something, like she expects him to say anything else. He doesn’t know what to say, just completely goes blank under her stare. She smiles at him.

“Goodbye, Shawn.”

“Bye, y/n.”

***

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[studiopoprocks]

Secret Santa Christmas Fic!

This is dedicated to my wounderful secret Santa @new-noveltea I hope you enjoy this, and I hope it’s not to late. Let me know if you don’t like it so then I can re write it! It’s pretty rushed. Thank you so much for participating in this with me! And I hope you have a wonderful Christmas❤️

Word count: 4.7k

Ship: Kirishima Eijirou x Reader

You could see the beautiful snow falling outside your window, a sign of what was to come. December 24 Christmas Eve. To many, this night was to celebrate family and togetherness, drinking delicious warm apple cider or hot chocolate while sitting by the beautifully decorated Christmas tree. At least that’s what you have read in books. Although you did have quite a few Christmas trees around the palace, it wasn’t you who got to decorate them. Put in place for the Christmas ball the king and queen put on every year.

“Um excuse me miss.” You turned your attention from the decorated pines outside over to your maid Uraraka, “you’re going to need to change into your dress soon, your majesty.”

You let out a small laugh at her pleasantries, “No one is around, you can drop the ‘miss’” it was hard to miss the sparkle that appeared in the brunettes eyes.

She made a b-line to the rooms walk in closet, excitedly talking about tonight, “Okay, we have to pick out the most extravagant dress you own. People must remember that you were there!” Although you loved your friend, as she practically grew up with you, her words were starting to bug you. Just like your parents, this ball was to kick off you becoming old enough to finally be wed. Now of course you wouldn’t be forced into an arranged marriage, but the pressure was still there.

Somehow while being wrapped up in choosing your evening gown, Ochako had noticed the change in your mood, “What’s wrong hun?” Sometimes she was just too perceptive. However, you knew she really cared about you and wouldn’t let it drop until you told her. “Do you not want to do the plan anymore?” She asked with concern.

“What plan?” Dumbfounded, your interest peaked.

“Didn’t Deku tell you?” She gasped when you shook your head, “of course he didn’t… anyways our Christmas gift to you this year is letting you leave the castle and explore the town on Christmas. We’ve been planning this for months! I can’t believe him!” You could only sit and stare. You had been let out of the castle many times, but never near Christmas as you always have so many duties to attend to.

“Now hurry up, we need you out and about so it doesn’t look suspicious when you-“ Ochaco added air quotes, “retire to your room” you could almost scream you were so excited, but instead settled in giving her the world's biggest hugs.

“Thank you so much! You’re the best friend any princess could ask for!” You shout into her ear. Although you wished you could hug her till the party, it would make putting on a dress rather difficult.

Of course she had chosen the most extravagant one you owned, a cream white dress, one that had so many rhinestones on it, that it looked identical to the freshly fallen snow on the ground. A magnificent dress to say the least, although it did itch a little in the back due to the lace detailing. You would definitely stick out in a gown like this.

“Okay so I’m meeting you where at 10:45?” You questioned.

“No, not me. You’ll be meeting Deku at the doors so he can accompany you to your room.” She explained, as she guided your form to the vanity. “I’ll meet you both there once your parents are informed of your absence. Remember to mention earlier to them that you are feeling tired.”

“Then you’ll tell me how you’re going to get a well known princess into town?” You asked as she started brushing the knots out of your hair, nodding her head at your question. Flinching at a rough knot, you continued to listen to what you would have to do.

The excitement kept bubbling up every few minutes. You were finally going to do it, sneak out on the most wonderful day of the year, and experience a real Christmas. You’re heart felt like it was growing three sizes like the grinch, and it was a delightful feeling. The constant chatter between you and your maid almost made you late for the ball. But hey, it’s called fashionably late for a reason, unless that wasn’t a thing in medieval times…

Thankfully to Ochaco and your parents, you were far from being late. Already waiting for your knight Midoriya to escort you to the ballroom, which you could hear all the way from your chambers. Makeup that made your face feel heavy, hair that if you left too long up, would give you a headache, and a dress that itched in the worst places. However you did look stunning, or at least that’s what Izuku said. So what’s beauty without a tad bit of pain? Plus you’d be in and out of it within 5 hours. Then you would be free.

“Ready to go?” You cheerfully asked your knight as you saw him approaching.

“Always ready m’lady.” You laughed at the last part, no matter how hard you tried, he always had to refer to you as upper class.

“Thank you so much, both of you.” You smiled as you hugged Uraraka before allowing Deku to lead the way. Even though you likely knew more about the castle and how to get around then he did. The ball room wasn’t hard to find, down the hall, turn left, then turn right at the kitchen and keep going until you hit the grand staircase. After that take the closest left hall and it’s just down there. But anyone could find their way if they just listened for the music.

It was beautiful, likely the best band in the village. But they definitely were loud, you could probably use a headache as an excuse if the plan goes astray. But for now, you would have to push those thoughts of escape down, and socialize at the Christmas part of the year.

10:13 pm

The adrenaline was rushing through you as you waited in your chambers. The reality of this whole situation was finally hitting you, and it felt like a brick wall. Yes you were excited to leave the castle, but there were so many what ifs. What if you were caught? What if your parents found out and forced you to marry due to your disobedience? What if- A beautiful red dress snagged your eye. It was simplistic, as there wasn’t any diamonds or other precious gems littering it. It wasn’t even a gown, as it looked as if it only came up to just above the knees. Simplistic yet an elegant design.

Seeing the note Ochaco had left about putting it on, you made fast work of the itchy glitter bomb you were currently wearing. Proving to be a much more difficult task without any maids. Yet you still did it, and thankfully the new red dress was much easier to put on. Along with the addition of some very cute matching black knee high boots to keep you warm.

So there you were standing in your room, waiting for the people who would help you escape for the night. Unbeknownst to you the adventure you were about to begin.

11:27 pm

wrapped up in a cloak, you felt the slight cold nip at your nose as your two best friends opened up the door that led to your freedom. You had traveled all through the catacombs, only getting lost once or twice just to get here. The cold making the small tears in the corners of your eyes become chilled.

“I can’t believe this, this means the world to me, and I’m so thankful to have you both! I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you, but I’ll do my best!” You smiled as you bid your farewell to Izuku and Ochaco, for the next day would be yours to do as you please.

Hugs were exchanged as you made your way towards the village. The darkness and the slow falling snow, giving off an eerie yet mystical experience. Within about three minutes you were in the town square, practically alone, aside from the few people who had stayed up to enjoy the night. There was a swelling feeling in your heart as you looked around at all the lanterns and lights, they rocked in the slight breeze, but their glow was never disturbed. There were beautiful tall pine trees, no inch left uncovered. Fresh bread and peppermint followed you as you made your way around the village.

However lost in your own thoughts and wounder, you had forgotten to watch were you were going, and bumped into someone carrying about three expertly wrapped boxes. The sudden noise they made as they hit the snow covered ground brought you out of your dream like stage, and quickly you bowed your head.

“My apologies! I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going, it’s just the scenery is so gorgeous that I didn’t realize I was going to bump into someone.” A small chuckle could be heard beneath your bowing form.

“You’re right, it is quite beautiful tonight, but it’s really no biggie, no harm done.” The man smiled up at you as he continued to pick up his boxes. Quickly you sank to your knees, helping with one that had fallen nearer to you. The man looked young, probably somewhere between Izukus and your age. He was handsome, a symmetrical smiling face, framed by spikes red hair, and piercing but soft red eyes. What really drew your attention however was his strangely sharp teeth, and how they looked so harmless as he smiled at you.

With two presents, the man stood up, brushing off the excess snow from his legs. Looking around for the ministry girl he had just met, he realized you were still on the ground looking up at him. He could see the childlike wonder in your eyes, as they sparked around your breathtaking form. Snapping out of it, he offered you his hand. Surprisingly, you placed the last package into it instead. With a slight laugh, he put the presents neatly down and tried to help you up again. This time you finally accepted, and he pulled you up with ease. His strength not unnoticed by you. After brushing off the residual snow, you bowed again.

“Thank you for helping me up.” Standing back up straight to see a curious look in the strangers eyes.

“You’re not from around here are you? Do you need help finding your way back to the castle? I don’t mind-“

“NO!” You rudely cut him off, “I mean… I’m not from around here, but that’s because I wanted to see what the town is like on Christmas.”

The man in front of you could tell something was up, although he wasn’t sure who you were, you didn’t exactly scream threat. You had the same predicament, without much outside knowledge you could be naive and possibly used if the wrong person came around. But whether it was the spirit of Christmas, or some other outside force, the two of you felt no unease from the other. Even so, it was still shocking to hear what he said next.

“Well it’s not Christmas yet, and it’s getting late. If you don’t have a place to stay you’re welcome to come with me, I have a few friends who I’m with at the moment and I’m sure they would understand.” He offered, “Oh! And my name is Kirishima, Eijiro Kirishima.”

You knew it was a dumb idea to follow a stranger you had just met. What if he saw through you, and found out you were the princess, or kidnapped you! Yet the kind offer and smile on his face pushed all those thoughts away. You may have been a princess, but you could handle yourself if it came to it. As long as you kept the knife your guard gave you, your training should let you get enough time to escape.

“I happily accepted Mr. Kirishima! However, I’m afraid I won’t be able to tell you my name… for security reasons.” It wasn’t exactly lying, but it didn’t feel good either way.

“I understand.” The smile on his face never once leaving, “also just call be Kirishima, Mr. is was too formal.” You agreed as titles were something you disliked as well. They often felt overpowering, which is why you would ask your staff to never address you as princess, unless you were around company.

“I have to get two more gifts before we leave, Kay?” You nodded, unsure of where he would get them as many of the stores were closed. Nonetheless you followed him through the streets, basking in the Christmas decorations as you passed. Some houses even having snowmen in front, half melted from how warm the past week had been. If only it was that warm now, your hands had always been on the cold side, but they were starting to feel numb. Subconsciously you rubbed them together, bringing them up to place them inside your cloak. Crimson eyes watched your movements, regretting the fact he didn’t bring gloves of his own to lend you.

Instead he decided that he would do the next best thing to warm you up, “You looked cold, and my hands tend to be very warm.” He said as he grabbed your hand, noticing how soft and cute it felt within his own.

“Oh, umm thanks.” You mumbled, a little flustered at the redhead, who’s skin matched his hair. It definitely wasn’t unwelcomed as you could feel your fingers again, plus you couldn’t deny that he was cute.

It was nice walking beside Kirishima. Although the conversation stayed on more trivial things, like what was the best Christmas gift the two of you had gotten, you felt comfortable. Deeper and more personal questions played like a movie in your mind, but it seemed unfair as you couldn’t answer then if he had been the one to ask. So you kept quiet, and continued on with a question about Christmas traditions. That’s what the presents were for, Kirishima did something called a gift exchange with the other members of his group.

“Speaking of gifts, this should be it!” Pointing to a tiny house on the corner, you could make out a small bread symbol in the window. “Sero loves this place!” He smiled as you walked closer to the cute little house. You could smell the fresh pastries and ingredients even before you made it inside. Although it did pack a bigger punch the closer you got to it. Once inside you felt like you were in the gingerbread house from Hansel and Greatel, except the house was made from bread and other starchy foods. Every breath felt like you were eating something new and delicious.

You excused yourself to browse the shelves, as your companion talked to the elderly woman who seemed to own this wonderful place. Donuts to cinnamon buns, to cream puffs, to bagels, to… and that’s when you saw something. Although you never had any big Christmas traditions with your family, there was one thing you always loved from when you were a small child. The store provided little brown bags as to put your sweets in, so picking up a rather large one, you placed the baked good inside.

“Oh you’re buying something?” Kiri asked as you made your way to the front to pay.

“It’s just something I eat every Christmas morning with my family. I usually make it, but seeing as I’m spending Christmas away, I thought I would get it now.” You smiled, still keeping the pastry a secret from the man.

The woman just smiled at your exchange. It was a comforting feeling to see such young kids being respectful and enjoying themselves, “will that be everything dearie?” She asked, snapping the two of you away from each others eyes.

“Oh yes thank you.” You smiled, giving her double of what it cost. Refusing to take it back after the transaction, even though it was hard to say no to such a soft eyed woman.

“My heavens. Thank you so much hun, I hope you and your fiance have a lovely Christmas together.” Surprisingly, neither of you decided to correct the woman on her assumption. The unnoticed glint in her eye showed she knew you two weren’t together, but it would still be fun to joke around a bit. “Merry Christmas! And tell your mother that Ms. Collins says hello.”

the little bell above the door rang as the two of you exited, “Do you know her?” The red head asked.

You shook your head, “no idea, but I would be surprised if she knew who I was.” To any normal person your comment would have seemed weird, but the man beside you just brushed it off and continued to the local book store. You didn’t even know you had one of those in town. Heck you didn’t even know if they actually existed as you tended to read from the royal library, or your personal collection. You thanked your lucky stars that Ochaco told you to bring some money on your excapapaid, because you were about to blow it all on books.

If you have ever seen the part in beauty and the beast where Belle is given the castle library, then you could probably imagine exactly how the little town girl felt, as this was the exact feeling. Although it wasn’t as big as the palaces library, it was comfier and cosier than anywhere you had ever been. There was even a little postal office attached at the right hand corner, which is where Kirishima went as he left you to look around. You skimmed each book, seeing if you had it, and locating your favourites just to see if they had them in stock. Books about daring princes and slaying dragons, about horror and romance.

It was a hard decision whether you liked the bakery or the library more. This small bit of freedom from outside the castle was already some of the most fun you’ve ever had, even though you were starting to get a tad sleepy.

“Ready to go?” You felt a small tap on your shoulder.

“Already?”

“Sorry, but if we want to make it to my camp with enough time to sleep then we better start moving.” You could tell he seemed tired too.

“Alright fine, so how do we get there?” The poor boy visibly tensed at your question, glancing around frantically until his eyes landed on a man out in the street. “Oh hey! Mr. Gum, do you mind letting me buy something from your shop quickly?”

The blond just stared back, taking a second to remember who this random kid yelling at him was, “OH Kiri, how are you? Merry Christmas!” The large man smiled, “and I see you got yourself a partner! Nice to meet you!” He said tuning his attention to you, “I’ve seen you before, don’t you work in the castle?”

“Umm well not exactly…” You definitely recognized the man, he was one of the guards who would sometimes patrol the gardens of the palace, or stay at the walls to fight off any mythical beasts that wanted to kill the royal family. But he retired soon after failing to kill a horrendous dragon, or at least that was what the rumours said.

“Oh well, I figure it out soon enough.” Oh how you wished he wouldn’t, “So what was it that you needed so bad?” He questioned, pulling out the keys to his store.

“One of Mei’s inventions, the feet sword things.” Okay maybe you were hanging out with a crazy person. “Those! I need two.” He said pointing at some sort of shoe with a horizontal sword at the bottom. They looked strange, but the man agreed to it anyways. They did look pretty cool though, but the price was a bit much even for you. You could sense the boy next to you cringe, so in the heat of the Christmas moment, you

Pulled out your coins and paid for the two of them in full.

Kirishima tried stopping you, even asking the man behind the counter to not take your money, but you just simply explained, “think of this as my payment for taking me around the town for the first time in many years.” Smiling as the blond handed Kiri the shoes.

“That’s where I know you from!” He suddenly shouted. You’re smile instantly flipped, as your heart crept its way into your throat. Your eyes held a silent beg, asking the man in front of you to not reveal who you really were.

“You’re the-“ he started but surprisingly you were not the one to cut him off.

“Sorry Mr. Gum but I think I’d rather hear about my companions past and life from her. But thank you for the skates!” He quickly rambled on, grabbing your hand and signaling that you two should probably be leaving.

“Oh I didn’t mean anything like that, I simply meant that she was the little girl who once gave me a flower, long long ago when I wasn’t feeling so cheerful. Trust me, she’s a good one son.” He winked at the boy beside you, laughing as he saw his face reddened. The joking continued as the gentleman ushered the two of you outside and directed you to the frozen river. “Merry Christmas you two!” And with that he left.

It was silent as Kirishima helped you put on the strange sharp shoes, trying his best to figure them out. He had kinda figured out his own, but he insisted on helping you as it was the manly thing to do, but he still had trouble.

“(Y/n)” you whispered. The boy at your feet raised his head, tilting it to the side as if to ask what you had just said.

“It’s my name, I thought I should finally tell you.” You smiled down at him as he tried saying it a few times to commit it to memory. It felt nice to hear him call you by your name, especially since many just addressed you by some sort of title. You felt comfortable, or at least as comfortable as you could be as he stood you up on the frozen ice.

Almost falling forward, a strong pair of arms steadied you. Reaching his hand out to both help the two of you, and to continue to keep your hands warm. But mostly because you needed each other to make it like 2 feet without falling. Honestly, it didn’t take you too long to get your balance, as you’ve had to learn many new things quite quickly as a child. But poor Kiri seemed to be getting worse, especially since he had to carry the presents he had gotten for his friends. It was still pretty cute watching him try his best to stay up, even if he wasn’t very graceful.

“How are you good at this already!?” He asked as you gave him your hand to steady his form.

“I don’t know, but how did you even get to the village, and why didn’t we just take that way?” You questioned. Sadly he stiffened again, becoming ridged and losing his balance. With his hand already interlocked with yours, he pulled you down with him, and basically on top of him. It was a shock, as you stared down at the boy Beneath you in a strange position. “I guess you fell for me.” You started laughing.

“Fell hard is more like it.” He joined in, rubbing his hip that had hit the ice hard. The two of you continued to laugh, Kiri even complaining that he couldn’t breathe. But the boy beneath you stopped suddenly, fear in his eyes as he looked towards the trees on the side. Tilting your head you attempted to follow his gaze, but he quickly turned your attention back to him as he shouted “NO!”

That’s when it lunged. A huge scaly beast with piercing yellow eyes, focused on your figure. Within seconds it was millimeters from your face, yellow electric sparks emitting from the dragons form. Never in your life had you been that scared, and so of course you froze. The wind was knocked out of your lungs, but not because of the beast, but because of the boy who had flipped your positions and placed himself in harm's way instead of you. He glared at the beast, baring his sharp teeth as a warning, and somehow it worked. You could see the yellow beast returning back to the forest, but only in a blurry haze as you felt yourself drifting out of consciousness.

7:07 am

“Hey are you okay” a strange voice was talking to you. It was weird, the only person aloud in your chambers was your maid/friend Ochaco, and unless she had a terrible throat cold.

Slowly you opened your eyes, coming face to face with an attractive redhead, relief flooding his features. He pulled you into a hug, muttering something about being glad you were okay, and that he was worried. You hadn’t realized how cold you were till his body heat started to warm you up. So when he started pulling away, it’s no surprise that you didn’t let him go. But this position remained you of something that happened last night…

“What happened?” You said worried.

“A dragon showed up.” He started blatantly.

“Yes but how, how did you get it to leave us alone! It was huge and terrifying! Dragons could kill you without a second thought.” You explained, subconsciously checking over him for any wounds the beast may have left.

A sad smile crossed his face, “Do you really believe all dragons are merciless killers?”

“Well, I mean that’s like saying all humans are nasty and evil. But I have yet to meet a friendly dragon…” You stop talking noticing how each word made the man in front of you sadder, “but hey, I could be totally wrong! You probably know something that I don’t, and I’ve never had much contact with them besides from last night. But I trust you.” You took a deep breath looking into the red ones across from you, before noticing your bag. The one with your Christmas traditions.

“Let’s get to know each other over some coffee cake.” You smiled as you brought out the treat for the two of you to share. It was calm and you complimented the tree you could see outside of the tent. Decorated with what looked to be homemade ornaments, different colours, sizes and shapes, all holding a special meaning to the ones who made them.

“My name is princess (Y/n) (L/n).” And you explained why you had snuck out of the castle, why you wanted Christmas to be special, and why you valued spending time with Kirishima. “It was a magical night, something nothing could ruin. You’re the first person in my life who hasn’t been paid to be by my side!” You could feel the tears coming to your eyes, and Kiri could see them. Brushing them away, he led you outside his tent.

“Just don’t freak out please.” Now when people say that, your first reaction is usually to freak out. Yet as the man's skin turned into red scales, and his pupils became slits. Two magnificent wings sprouted from his back, as horns and a tail accompanied them. Eijirou Kirishima was a dragon, or more specifically the imaginary creatures known as shifters. The surprising thing was you never felt a hint of fear, not even when you noticed the other dragons circling around you.

Slowly you walked up to the shifter boy, placing your hand along the beautiful scales. The uneasiness on both your faces melting into an understanding comfort. “Merry Christmas Eijiro.” You smiled, as a large leathery wing came to swoop you up to his face. Holding you there as he shifted back to his human form, hugging you tightly. “Merry Christmas (Y/n), oh and Kaminari apologizes about last night, he thought you were hurting me.” He laughed and you two continued to enjoy the others embrace, as the snow fell around you. It truly was a wonderful Christmas.

[illkickyourbass]

henlo. have an expanded Shining Quest AU.

to release some steam from my kettle of stress, have some noodling about a Shining Quest AU that’s less April Fool’s, more high-stakes high-fantasy, but still every bit as tropey, stuffed with otome trappings, and Yay Music as we’ve come to expect from Utapri 

As with the last venture into this AU: not explicitly romantic, non-gendered MC, SFW, and mild CW for arranged marriages. I don’t know HEAVENS (plus they didn’t get canon classes for Shining Quest), so we’ll just be covering STARISH and Quartet Night! 

It’s a fairly typical setup -- there’s a fantasy kingdom, there’s a useless king, there’s a princess (Haruka) known for her talent for music composition, there’s a court of nobles and royals, all that usual hey. Magic is cast by mastery of the arts, whether that be visual, performing, musical, written, you name it. 

There’s a looming threat of some sort of demon king or similar fantasy anime bullshit that the royals and nobles of the kingdom are tasked with keeping at bay. We’re also gonna shamelessly borrow a detail from the pinnacle of wasted potential, the movie Rock and Rule -- there’s a plot point about how a demon can only be forced back with “the magic of one voice, one heart, one song....but there is no one.” Here in this ‘verse, that’s a longstanding prophecy the status quo has taken to mean there’s no-one who’ll ever be able to defeat the demon king. 

The solution that’s been in place for as long as anyone can remember is a royal or noble family offers one of their heirs as a sacrifice to be married off and sate the demon king for that generation-- the “devil’s bride” or “devil’s groom” or “devil’s betrothed.” This goes pretty badly for the heirs, of course, but it offers great prestige to the house that does it. 

You, the player, would get to pick what RPG class you fill (which would affect some dialogue trees and the expertise you demonstrate) and what art you use to cast magic. You are a member of the royal guard tasked with Haruka’s protection, but you’ve stumbled into the knowledge before it goes public: she’s the next devil’s bride! You go to Tomochika, a hired hand to the royals who’s been dating Haru in secret, and you begin to hatch a plan to bust Haruka out of the arrangement. 

Your route’s then determined by which of the boys you seek out as your other co-conspirator. 

Otoya is a fellow member the Royal Guard on Haruka protection detail. He’s equally resented and well-liked for his dauntless optimism and natural talent with swordsmanship, but it’s no secret that he’s not someone you’ll be trusting for expert strategy. He’s had the chance to become friendly with Haruka, and he’s ready to fight tooth and nail for her freedom! He’s classed as a warrior, who casts light-element attacks and healing spells with his music. 

Masato was raised from birth to become an ideal Devil’s Groom, since the Hijirikawa nobles are falling out of favor in the courts (spurred in part from their takedown of the Kurosakis backfiring on them). But Masato has rejected that he (or Mai) will ever go along with that plan, instead intently training in swordsmanship and fusing music and fiber arts to make enchanted fabrics that work like armor. Quietly, he has kept a very ambitious goal in mind: outright defeat the demon king and end the legacy of the devil’s betrothed. 

Natsuki is a natural genius at using both his voice and viola to communicate with creatures and summoning the cutest ones to absolutely wreck house. Though a humble farmboy who’s kind of out-of-touch with the political goings-on of his land, his talent was too great to go unnoticed forever, and he was invited to live among the high court as an entertainer and summoner. He got to make so many new friends (like the princess and you!) and better provide for his family, so he’s thankful every day for the change, even if he misses his animal friends at home! 

Tokiya came from a humble family that wanted to lead a quiet life, but Tokiya himself had ambitions that far outpace that. Though not a natural talent, he put unimaginable sweat into a field that creates potent spells and tools by the power of song. Eventually becoming estranged from his whole family, Tokiya finds it all worthwhile after struggling his way into being hired by the royals. Much of the court thinks of him as a weird mad scientist who sings to his books, but he’s found fast friends he’d go to the ends of the earth for, like Masato, the princess, and you! 

Ren is the inverse of Masato in his circumstance. Like the Hijirikawa noble family, the Jinguujis helped orchestrate the fall of the Kurosaki nobles, but the blowback had them falling out of favor instead of rising in power. Ren was planned to be offered as a Devil’s Groom to restore some clout, but instead of being intently groomed, he was left to do whatever he wanted since he’s got such a foregone future. So Ren becomes a carefree playboy, eventually taking his talent for alchemy and becoming a for-hire adventurer to sate his boredom. He tells everyone his saxophone is his secret to brewing his one-of-a-kind love potions, but he’s actually devised some uniquely remarkable revival and buffing potions.

Syo comes from the same backwoods as Natsuki, but took less interest in working for the courts and instead trying to find a career emulating his childhood hero that kept his body’s limits in mind. But his twin left to pursue medical schooling, and eventually, between loneliness, worry, and the promise that the musical magic and medicine in the courts could help him safely push his limits, he follows Natsuki into the belly of the royals and nobles. His small stature and commitment to the movement arts made him a natural rogue, and he’s technically part of the Royal Guard’s special ops. But Syo’s brashness and burning spirit tends to best serve motivating the people around him -- what few spells he prefers to cast with his violin-playing are all buffs that lift the spirit and energize the body.  

Cecil came to this land on essentially a study abroad program and came to love the friends he made so much he stuck around! A wildly talented sorcerer able to cast even without playing his flute, Cecil is held in high esteem by the whole kingdom for the knowledge and skill he has to offer. Prone to disappearing, however, since a curse has him transforming into a cat as an occasional side effect of casting magic. He’s found this useful, though -- something injust he won’t stand for is afoot in this kingdom, and nobody suspects a little black cat of eavesdropping! 

Reiji is a court jester who loves, loves, loves nothing more than to make you smile! Much of the court takes his good cheer for granted, and even more underestimate his prowess in tough/delicate situations, but the most powerful folks know he’s just as sharp as he is goofy. When he’s not doing his job making people smile, he’s often helping or promoting his family’s pub or bugging his friends from outside the royal court. His flashy performances and maraca-shaking have been shaped into a great conduit for spells of transmutation, though he tends to use them to put on a great show more than beat ass.

Ranmaru is the eldest son of the disgraced Kurosaki nobles (whose power and legacy were ruined by the Jinguujis and Hijirikawas as per usual) but he decided to bear the brunt of the damage in wake of his father’s passing to spare the rest of his family. Shouldering massive debt, Ranmaru disappeared and re-emerged as the gambler prince of the underground, now incredibly powerful in his own right. Not-so-secretly a big softie, he’ll swindle and ruin the lives of those who take advantage of the helpless, even operating out of a pub owned by an old couple that needed some protecting from loan sharks. Ranmaru wears special runed gloves that store mana when he plays his bass, letting him cast a set number of fire evocation spells before his next recharge. 

Ai lives in woods on the outskirts of the city. Most regard him as a hermit, but a couple know that Ai is actually a homunculus that has been refining his understanding and performance of humanity and needs frequent breaks to “recharge.” Nominally a ranger, Ai’s skills lie in his powerful patience and observation moreso than his bow and arrow, though he and Reiji have an arrangement where he helps hunt and forage ingredients for the Kotobuki pub. Ai is beginning to grasp his own unique sense of humanity and is ready to take grander action to realize it. He fights with arrows of a special alloy that react to an instrument at home; they are tempered by the sound and blessed by the wind to never miss their target should the wielder be skilled enough. 

Camus is an assassin that lives in shadow. Nobody’s quite sure of his intentions or allegiances, but the few times someone does see him in the open, he’s as haughty and demanding as ever. Rumor has it that he lives in the royal castle -- certainly, their enormously increased sweets output would imply such, and it’s well-known in the castle that unexplained cello music is usually his doing -- but he’s such an evanescent and terrifying presence nobody’s quite sure (and is too scared to ask). His assassinations are almost impossible to track, as his blades of ice melt, disappear, and leave no trail to follow. 

Typical route stuff goes as you’d expect -- you progress the plot, you get closer to your chosen boy, some political intrigue things probably happen, some heart-racing events etc. etc., and before you know it the two of you are very close and realize that your arts cast wildly powerful magic when put together. Slowly, you gather more friends (a selection of the other boys + Haru and Tomo) and find that together, your work amplifies in power to unprecedented degrees. It’ll vary from route to route how you get there, but eventually, you all come to the same conclusion: it’s time to kick some demon king ass. And you do! 

The ends vary from angsty (like the player or the chosen boy is mortally wounded or dies) or fairytale fluffy (go off and spend a happy life together) or something more power fantasy-feeling (like you and chosen boy revolutionize the whole kingdom for the better in wake of the demon king’s defeat), etc. -- but no matter what you know that your art + your boy + the power of friendship kicked more ass than anything Shining Kingdom has ever seen! 

[imagineclaireandjamie]

Image 18th!century Jamie saw Claire dancing rockabilly / lindy hop? With all the swirling and jumping? I'd love to see his reaction. Bonus if she's dancing with Joe.

We Live For Love

--

Jamie framed Claire’s face between his hands, drawingtheir foreheads together. Together they inhaled, then exhaled, ears roaringwith the crowd.

 “You ready?” he whispered against her lips.

 She pulled back. Smiled. The necklace with three goldcharms – the letters J, F, and B, for him and their two daughters – sparkled inthe stage lights.

 “Let’s do this.”

 He returned the smile, bent for a quick kiss, then strodeonstage, guitar slung over his back.

 She didn’t think the crowd could have been louder, butsomehow it now was.

 Claire enjoyed what she had so dearly missed watching himdo, these past few years away from the road. For he always took such care tomake sure that everything was just perfect – the lighting, the microphones, themarks where they would stand.

 They’d run through it all at the sound check thatafternoon, of course. But Jamie knew that something would always get a littleout of sync – and tonight of all nights, they couldn’t afford that.

 Fortunately this check was just a cursory one – because beforeshe knew it, Jamie plugged in his guitar and began strumming the intro.

 Confidently she strode onstage. Suddenly glad of the new earmonitors Joe had insisted she and Jamie have custom made for this tour. Forabove the screams of the crowd she could just barely hear Jamie’s guitar. Andshe counted the bars of his intro, smiling into the hot lights, heart racingwith nervousness and joy.

 Never again, isn't that what yousaid?You've been through this beforeAnd you swore this time you'd think with your head

 It was their first time playing this new acoustic arrangement live –just her and Jamie’s guitar, without the band and its bass and keyboards anddrums. She was afraid that somehow the song would sound naked, thin,incomplete.

No one, would ever have you againAnd if taking was gonna get doneYou'd decide where and when

 Jamie, of course, had convinced her that certainly her fears wereunfounded. That the simple acoustic guitar was exactly what her voice needed toshine. The perfect metaphor for who she was now – how far she’d come – and justexactly what this tour represented.

Just when you think you got it downYour heart securely tied and boundThey whisper, promises in the dark

Jamie’s strumming became a bit more frantic, in time withthe melodic shift in the song. The crowd screamed in delight. Claire met Jamie’seyes, and knew that it would be all right.

 She needed that reassurance with the next song. For anacoustic version of Promises in the Darkwas just her warm-up; only she and Jamie knew what was in store for the rest ofthe night.

 “Wow!” she exclaimed after finishing the song with a flourishof Jamie’s guitar. “Wow!”

 The crowd chanted her name. Claire knew she was alreadysweating under the heavy lights – but she didn’t care.

 “I can’t tell you how thrilled I am – how thrilled we are – to be with you tonight.”Quickly she bent to sip from the bottle of water perched on a stool a few pacesbehind the amps. “As you know, this is our first gig in just about six years. Iwas afraid you guys would have forgotten about me by now.”

 “No!” “Never!” the crowd replied.

 Claire laughed. “I know, I know. Jamie and I – wait, doyou know this is my husband?”

 The crowd laughed; Jamie shook his head, playing it up.

 “Well – we’ve been through a lot these past six years.Spent a lot of time at home, just enjoying being Mommy and Daddy to our twolittle girls. And we’ve been singing and recording – but just for them. And we’veloved it. But we missed being out here with you.”

 She swallowed. “We were afraid you wouldn’t want to hearfrom us anymore. But I guess we were wrong.”

 “Yeahhhh!” the crowd cheered.

 “Well – so we decided this time around, we’d mix it up abit. Just Jamie and me – we’re giving the rest of the band a break. And we’dsing for you some songs you know, just that they sound a bit different. Andthen we’d sing some new songs for you, too – after all, we do have a new record out.”

 “I hope you’ve bought it,” Jamie laughed. “We gotta putthe girls through college.”

 “Anyway,”Claire rolled her eyes. “For these next few songs, we’re going to do somethingwe’ve never done before. See – this man right here, my husband – you may notknow this, but he helped me find my voice.”

 “I wasn’t aware it had been lost, baby,” he teased.

 She turned to face him on the stage. “Back when I wasstill Claire Beauchamp, singing show tunes in jazz bars – he helped me find avoice that wouldn’t get lost with his electric guitar. There would be no ClaireFraser without Jamie Fraser.”

 The crowd sighed and cheered.

 “We’ve given the gift of music to our little girls. Andthis next song is something we sing to them every night. Our two-year-old lovesit – she thinks we wrote it for her – but please don’t tell her we didn’t!”

 The crowd laughed. She nodded at Jamie, and he beganplucking a very familiar introduction. She closed her eyes – pictured Bree andFaith’s joyous faces when they had music time – and began singing.

 She's got a smileit seems to meReminds me of childhood memoriesWhere everythingWas as fresh as the bright blue sky

 Now and then when Isee her faceShe takes me away to that special placeAnd if I'd stare too longI'd probably break down and cry

 Jamie’s baritone voice joined hers for the chorus. Tohear their voices together, amplified, sent chills down her spine.

 Oh, oh, ohSweet child o' mineOh, oh, oh, ohSweet love of mine

 She opened her eyes to watch what happened next. For shestood away from the microphone – and for the first time in their public career,Jamie Fraser sang on his own.

 She's got eyes ofthe bluest skiesAs if they thought of rainI hate to look into those eyesAnd see an ounce of pain

 His voice was so beautiful. For so long she’d wanted himto share it with the world – but for so long he had resisted, insisting (correctly)that the focus should be on her, not him. That she was the star – not him, eventhough they had been equal partners from day one.

 But now, on this tour that naysayers in the press saidwas a comeback and fans said was just about time – now, they played by theirown rules. Dictated absolutely everything. And when Claire insisted theytransform the performances into duets – Jamie couldn’t refuse.

Her hair reminds me of a warm safe placeWhere as a child I'd hideAnd pray for the thunderAnd the rainTo quietly pass me by

 He sang directly to her. Knowing that she couldn’t helpbut think of how he loved burying his face in her neck, sheltered in the cloudof her hair. How he would cling to her in sleep; how they would burrow undertheir quilt, skin-on-skin, lips and limbs tangled for hours and hours in thedark.

 Oh, oh, ohSweet child o' mine

 Her voice rejoined his.

Oh, oh, oh, ohSweet love of mine

 The intensity in his eyes stirred something deep in her.How the hell was she supposed to get through the next ninety or so minutes,when one glance made her want to drag him offstage and lock the door to their dressingroom?

 He electrified her – and she him.

 Next up in their set was back-to-back Bob Dylan covers.

 “It may not surprise you that we idolize June Carter andJohnny Cash,” Jamie explained, tuning his guitar before the next song. “Theyfirst started singing this song together back in the 60s. And most people don’teven know Dylan wrote it – like Jimi Hendrix and ‘All Along the Watchtower.’”

 “It’s better with the harmonica,” Claire interjected. “Butnot today. Maybe next time.”

 Jamie rolled his eyes – and launched into the intro. Thistime he began the song.

 Go 'way from mywindowLeave at your own chosen speedI'm not the one you want, babeI'm not the one you need

 Following in the hallowed steps of June Carter, Claire’svoice joined in. Yet again they sang in perfect harmony.

You say you're lookin' for someoneNever weak but always strongTo protect you an' defend youWhether you are right or wrongSomeone to open each and every door

 It was the perfect metaphor, really – for that’s whatClaire and Jamie had been looking for – and found – in each other, thosefateful days in New York when they were recording their first album. Theirvoices raised for the chorus –

But it ain't me, babeNo, no, no, it ain't me, babeIt ain't me you're lookin' for, babe

 After this song the lights went down a bit – and aspotlight hit Jamie.

 “I know this one’s a bit more folk-y then you all may beused to. But it shows off Claire’s voice in a very different way. She says shelikes to hear my voice at home – well, I feel the same way about her. Andbelieve it or not, she doesn’t sing rock and roll every day. She sings as shedoes things around the house. And I caught her humming this one a few monthsback, and bugged her enough that she agreed to share it with all of you.”

 “Well, Dylan started off in New York clubs, too,” Clairereasoned. “If he can do it, I can do it. And Jamie wrote this particulararrangement – we haven’t heard anyone do the song like this. So it’s a risk.”

 “Well, when have we shied away from risks, Claire?”

 “Never, Jamie,” she laughed. “Now start playing, beforeeveryone gets up and leaves. All right?”

 Claire turned to face the audience. Jamie played a shortintro – and they sang together.

 Oh, where have youbeen, my blue-eyed son?Oh, where have you been, my darling young one?I've stumbled on the side of twelve misty mountainsI've walked and I've crawled on six crooked highwaysI've stepped in the middle of seven sad forestsI've been out in front of a dozen dead oceansI've been ten thousand miles in the mouth of a graveyard

 It was a bit more poetic then the lyrics she typically sang– but the hush that came over the audience during the song was positivelyspellbinding.

And it's a hard, and it's a hard, it's ahard, and it's a hardAnd it's a hard rain's a-gonna fall

 So it continued – song after song after song.

 Some familiar favorites re-imagined – songs from herprevious albums, cover songs from the 60s to today. Interspersed with songsfrom the new album, including We BelongTogether, which everyone said would hit Number One within a matter of days –and then a few brand-new songs, written exclusively for this tour.

 When Joe Abernathy – their friend and mentor – had askedwhat they wanted to call this tour, WeBelong Together naturally came to mind. But Claire – and Jamie – had adifferent message to send.

 So after Jamie strummed the final notes of the secondencore song, and gripped Claire’s hand, and they took a bow – Claire spoke intothe microphone for one last time.

 “Thank you, from the bottom of my heart – and Jamie’sheart – for your enthusiasm. We took a big risk doing this, but we know nowthat the Our Voices tour will be thebest we’ve ever done.”

 Jamie kissed her sweaty cheek.

 “Good night!” they shouted into her microphone, then ranoff stage, holding hands.

 In the wings, Jamie handed his guitar to Fergus – normallytheir bassist, now playing the role of guitar tech for the tour – and pulledClaire away from the screams of the crowd. Within seconds they arrived at theirshared dressing room, and he shut – and locked – the door behind them just intime for Claire’s hungry mouth to find his.

 They were both shaking, he realized – from adrenaline,and exhaustion, and pure unadulterated need for each other.

 “You were so, so good, baby,” he whispered against hermouth, peppering her sweaty face with kisses.

 “Mmm.” She bit his lower lip. “I love singing with you. It– it just does something to me, Jamie– ”

 He cut her off with another deep kiss, picking her up andsetting her on the makeup table. He stepped between her legs, and she wrappedher calves around his hips.

 Five quick knocks at the door tore Jamie’s mouth fromhers. Because it could be only one thing –

 Claire jumped down from the table, opened the door, and staggeredas two giggling daughters grabbed hold of her legs.

[high5nerd]

The Misadventures of Fanty and Pitch Black---Chap. Five

Since it was Halloween, Fanty arranged a party with everyone, including Pitch. The Nightmare King watched Fanty set up streamers of gold, black and orange, and blow up balloons of black and orange. She set out a pile of Blu-Ray DVDs like The Nightmare before Christmas, A Charlie Brown Halloween, Sleepy Hollow, and her Harry Potter collection. She even baked a giant cake that looked like half a pumpkin, lit orange candles on the table, and set up bowls of popcorn, m&ms, caramels, gummy bears and lollipops near the TV. Pitch was offered to help cook the chicken fingers, but he ended up just putting the ketchup and BBQ sauce on the table instead.

Fanty didn't like how he handled the stove.

What really creeped the hell out of Pitch was that Fanty dressed for the party. He knew kids did for Halloween, but not teens. Apparently he needs to really learn more in order to become stronger and take in more fear. She dressed as a pirate, with the whole embroidered coat, feathered hat, heavy boots and swashbuckling cutlass. Good thing the cutlass was fake, because she whacked him with it when he tried sneaking a caramel.

It startled him even more that everyone else wore costumes as well. Mystic was the first to arrive with a bowlful of fruit salad, dressed as Artemis Fowl. She looked very fancy and mature in the costume, unlike Angel, who dressed as a giant kitten with the bell and everything. Xion dressed as a man named Doctor Who, who Pitch didn't really know but the name sure did sound familiar. He must have heard his name while searching for fear. Star dressed as a mermaid, and she even dyed her hair a bright blue and green and painted scales on her legs that almost looked real. Drago was the last to arrive, but came with the delicious mint fudge and bottles of root beer, cream soda and Sprite. She wore a shaded hat, a whip by her side, high brown boots, a leather jacket that looked well worn, light brown pants and a button up.

"Indiana Jones." She smiled at Pitch, shaking his hand while trying to balance the tray of mint fudge in one arm.

"Wow." Pitch could only blurt.

The merriment lasted for about four hours, just three hours to midnight. Music blared from the stereo, and all the girls jumped to dance to Thriller. Pitch simply watched and ate caramels to his heart's content, pretending to be bored but really fascinated by their way of celebration. It was strange, because he was so used to people shuddering and hiding from fear while these girls literally laughed at its ugly face. He couldn't help but smile at their bravery.

After eating to their fill of dinner consisting of chicken fingers, fruit salad, French fries and pasta, they sat around the TV, surrounding Pitch completely and blocking off any escape. Fanty sat to his right and Angel to his left.

"So what's it like being immortal?" Drago asked, resting her head in her hand as she slowly chewed on a caramel.

"Boring at times, but you certainly have your freedoms." Pitch honestly replied, feeling oddly warm and flattered at the attention that was on him.

"What do you do for fun?" Xion asked, leaning forward as if Pitch were to tell a secret.

Pitch shrugged indifferently, "Sometimes I like to go for a ride on one of my nightmares or take a stroll through the forest. Maybe even read a good book."

"Really? Have you read Brothers' Grimm?" Xion beamed, her eyes shining.

Pitch nodded, and started listing off his fingers, "Edgar Allen Poe, Shakespeare, Grimm, Algernon Blackwood, H.P. Lovecraft, Stephen King, you name it."

Fanty rested a hand on his arm, and he looked at her. She gave him a warning look, a look that really made her appear like the pirate she dressed as. "Be careful, Pitch, or Xion might swoon."

If Xion could, she'd have flowers and light flares erupting from her very body like in those animes she loved so much.

They continued to talk, making sure they avoided sensitive topics like why Pitch had contempt for certain spirits. Once it finally hit midnight, the sugar rush exploded. The girls were perky and bouncing up and down, wild smiles on their faces. Pitch couldn't help but laugh at them. They all voted to watch The Nightmare before Christmas, and Fanty quickly popped it in before snuggling up into the couch once the movie started.

Everyone laughed at certain parts and enjoyed the film, but Pitch and the girls-besides Fanty-laughed at the introduction to Oogie Boogie. Once the shot of his actual buggy form came forth from the shadows to torment Santa Claus, Fanty gasped and jumped behind the sofa, peeking out so only her hat to her eyes could be seen. Pitch laughed cruelly, understanding why Oogie Boogie freaked her out. All those bugs crawling out of him didn't scare him, but it did gross him out. Still, the music was entertaining. Everyone turned from the screen to watch Pitch, who tapped his foot along with the music and had a happy smile on his face as he bobbed his head side to side. He imagined himself in Oogie Boogie's place and North in Santa Claus's place, strapped to the table after being kidnapped.

But then Fanty and the girls giggled at Pitch's face during Jack and Sally's duet, which was twisted into a grimace.

"They just had to put romance in it. Maybe if he bit off her arm I would rate it five stars." Pitch said as everyone sat in a circle in Fanty's living room, the lights dim and the candles lit to tell ghost stories.

"Jack does have scary looking teeth." Mystic nodded, understanding where Pitch was coming from.

"I dunno, romance is pretty cute. Just not for some movies." Fanty said dreamily.

Pitch scoffed and shoved a lollipop in her mouth, and she glared at him, but then began eating it since it was in fact her favorite kind.

"Pitch, have you ever been in a relationship?" Drago asked, playing with her candy wrapper.

Fanty choked on her lollipop as she hooted with laughter, causing half of the girls to glare at her or smirk. Pitch gave her a look, and without a warning, growled and bared his teeth at her with his fingers curled, getting into the right light of the candle to accent his cheekbones and his eyes and teeth. Fanty shrieked, and then slapped the lollipop onto his nose, and Pitch exclaimed at the disgusting cavity on a stick that was glued to his nose.

Drago, Xion, Mystic, Star and Angel burst out laughing, making Fanty grin happily that she was able to outmaneuver Pitch without making a mess. Pitch finally yanked off the lollipop from his nose and tossed it into a nearby garbage can, before gently rubbing his nose at the feeling of air hitting his skin.

"But really, have you?" Star asked, eager to know.

Pitch cast one glare at Fanty before replying, "Yes, I have."

Everyone gasped. "Really?! Who!? Mother Nature?!"

Pitch looked horrified, "She's my daughter!"

Everyone held up their hands in apology, and Pitch could tell from their wide eyes they meant no harm and they sincerely were sorry. The pose they were all doing looked as if they were about to do a ritual in a witch's coven.

"Awkward!" Xion exclaimed, and Star couldn't help but laugh it off.

"We're sorry, Pitch. We're not very knowledgeable on spirits and stuff you're so used to." Drago said with a gently smile, handing him a napkin to get rid of the remaining lollipop goo on his nose.

"And I asked about the Tooth Fairy earlier, and that was a definite no." Fanty informed the five other girls, who nodded understandingly.

"I was married before I became the Nightmare King," Pitch said lowly, really not wanting to talk about it, "I had a daughter, too."

"Was that daughter Mother Nature?" Mystic asked.

Pitch nodded, and something in Fanty clicked. She could see he didn't want to talk about this, so she vouched for him immediately, "Hey! Let's hear Pitch share a scary story. I bet he's really good at it!"

Everyone agreed with unison of "Yeah!" and compliments on his work as the Boogeyman and making Halloween so spooky. Pitch felt truthfully flattered, and he couldn't help but smile proudly as he shifted his legs, making him look even taller than he was before.

"Well, I am pretty talented. Hmm…which story?" Pitch playfully tapped his chin, and the six girls grinned and leaned forward, wanting to hear the best horror story from him.

"Ah! Well, long ago, during my first centuries as the Boogeyman, there was this tiny village somewhere in Mexico, and in this village was this beautiful woman named Maria. She was loved by far, and I couldn't blame them. She had silky looking hair that nearly reached the floor, and her eyes were the color of rich chocolate. Back then, chocolate was a luxury, but she received so much of it, it made her fill with pride at knowing how beautiful she was."

"She sounds high-strung." Fanty crinkled her nose, but the other girls shushed her for Pitch to continue.

"But then this traveler came into the village, and once he saw Maria, he fell in love just like the rest of the men. But unlike them, he was persistent, clever, and knew just how to woo her and earn her heart. Maria, thinking he was the perfect match for her since he was handsome, fell in love with him and immediately agreed to his marriage proposal. It sounds promising, does it not? They even had two beautiful children, and they seemed to be such a happily family. But…"

"There it is, the but!" Xion exclaimed, and Drago covered her mouth with her hand, enraptured with the story and Pitch's deep, velvety voice.

"Maria's husband returned to the praries, where he originally came from. Days turned into weeks, and he would then leave at dawn and return in time for supper. Maria, confused and suspicious at his departures, asked the other villagers where he goes, yet none knew. She knew he would come back, for he always did. Just before their two children got into bed, he would come home and spend time with them, like telling tales of his adventures and his family's history. Yet…he paid no attention to Maria. She was starting to get irritated. Was he no longer enraptured with her beauty? Her suspicions got the best of her, and slowly she grew more angry every day he left. But one fateful Sunday, a day of Sabbath, Maria's husband admitted to seeing another woman of his own class and wanting to never see her again.

Maria was furious. Her anger turned into red-hot hate. She even started to hate her own children, for they got his attention and love when she received none. To her, it was their fault. But that afternoon she was on a stroll with her two children, her not-so-faithful husband drove by in a richly decorated carriage, and sitting beside him was a wealthy looking woman. He only stopped to greet his kids, wish them a pleasant day and continued on down the road.

That caused the final blow to Maria's pride, for she was so angry and spiteful, she grabbed her kids by their necks and threw them into the river, and they drowned."

"Oh no…" Drago whimpered, her eyes widening in shock.

"But just as their bodies floated down the river, she realized the horrible mistake she made. She cried out in fear, and tried to reach for them, but they were gone. The following morning, a lone traveler on his way home found her dead body by the side of the river. The village buried her in the exact spot where she was found dead.

Yet…every night, the villagers could hear a woman crying in the night, somewhere close to the river. She cried for her children. A foolish villager went out around midnight to confront the sound, but never returned nor was heard from again. Some say her red-hot anger turned her eyes red and she attacked him, drowning him just like how she drowned her kids. Even now, she still roams the rivers, sobbing for her children."

Pitch looked at every individual girl, and grinned in victory. They all shook with fear, had gumball sized eyes and were either biting at their nails or hugging themselves, their mouths wide open.

"I've heard the story before," Mystic finally choked out, "But you made it ten times creepier."

"You definitely have the voice for it." Drago nodded in agreement to Angel's opinion.

"Well! I think that sums up this party. Bedtime!" Pitch clapped his hands, like he was the king of the court.

All the girls groaned and whined, falling limply to the floor in a mini tantrum. Well, besides Drago. She merely shrugged while looking at her watch, knowing Pitch was right. She was the most mature of the group anyways.

"Aww, why!?"

"Do we have to?"

"Noooo…."

"I don't wanna."

"This isn't fair!"

Pitch grabbed at his hair, feeling ashamed. "Oh MiM, I feel like I'm your father. This is terrible."

After everyone left, everything was cleaned up and Fanty was out like a light and sleeping in her bed, Pitch sat on the couch in the living room, peering at the DVD case of Sleepy Hollow.

This story was true, he thought to himself, flipping it over to see the actors in the movie, I remember. The sense of fear was so thick. Even I couldn't approach the Headless Horseman. Not that I was scared. He was just rude.

He silently put the DVD case down and rubbed at his head out of exhaustion. What am I even doing? Why am I even sticking around here? I could just leave and never come back. The thought made him sit up and berate himself, You wished day and night for someone to accept you, and you finally got your wish. Granted, they may be insane teenagers, but you were having fun and you like having them around, admit it.

"Darn. I'm stuck." Pitch muttered to himself, standing up in frustration and pacing over to the window, where he could see Man in Moon shine brightly in the navy blue sky.

He glared at the moon, and hissed rudely, "You did this, didn't you? Fate. This was all fate caused by you."

Pitch listened to his reply, and scoffed. "Don't play dumb. Why do you choose to speak to me now and not when I needed you most?"

He listened again, and rolled his eyes. "Whatever, Dark Ages Shmark Ages."

He waited. He then furrowed his eyebrows and spat, "I am not turning into Fanty!"

But then Man in Moon said something that caught his attention. "Wait, why do I need her?"

Man in Moon explained himself, watching Pitch's expression fall from suspicious confusion to utter disbelief. "Wait…I'm…why?"

Man in Moon was silent for a minute, and tried explaining that he was trying to help Pitch, but Pitch was…scared. He was too scared. He stepped away from the window, half hidden from the line of sight of the moon.

"But why? Why am I dying?"

[angelspigeon]

Sun of Corona - Chapter 06

You can’t stop me!! (Honestly this thing is almost 20 000 words.)

You can read on AO3 of course, just there > |  °| <

Words: 2937

Children were children.

They were all dry and could have headed to the feast, in peculiar because it was starting to be late and you could eat some delicious tiny apple-tarte at the Capital… but children were children and they had started to run after butterflies.

Now, Lea couldn’t tell which one had started and if it wasn’t some kind of strange plan? But it was summer and the Sun won’t set before five or six hours. None of them were hungry. They had time…

As they moved out from the field of flowers, they found a place with lot of slopes and hollows. This looked the best place to throw a very intimate party and play various games. They could easily go on a hide and seek for example.

Xion glanced at Isa who tried to arrange his hairs, once again. That forced bath hadn’t been the best thing for him, his hairs weren’t a natural mess like Lea’s mane that was turning in those so knew spikes by their own, and with this new length he wasn’t used of, it was even harder.

“You okay?” she asked.

“Yes? Why?”

She felt like suspicion in his tone and she gave him a slight smile, letting out a ‘nothing’. She bit her lower lips and glanced over the paradise of plays. Maybe Lea and Isa were too old for this?

Maybe she could try something less loud and could invite him?

Or she could pick up more flowers? He still had his crown, and Lea’s one. Even Roxas gave him his at some point…

They could maybe bond over this…

Maybe.

She pinched her lips, searching for another flower to try to break the ice. Even if she hesitated… he was talking with Lea after all. They weren’t sharing the most intelligent or interesting discussion but it was certainly precious to them.

But she noticed something…

She glanced again at Isa then to the tiny hills covered with grass and flowers visited by butterflies and others insects. She crouched almost behind the hill where roots were coming out, menacing to make fall people not taking care. And then, she looked again to Isa.

“Isa?” she called as low as possible. But loud enough for him to hear?

Isa looked toward her, his fingers brushing Lea’s wrist.

“Yes?” he said.

“Can you come?” she called.

Isa frowned slowly but moved away from Lea and walked to Xion who still was crouched.

“Come quiet, please,” she said.

He walked slower and crouched next to her.

“Look,” she whispered, showing something.

Something fluffy with a pompon and big ears. They were three and grey and absolutely adorable.

Three bunnies.

“Oh…”

“Lea never stopped talking about you. He said you loved rabbits and so I thought… you’d be happy to see them.”

“I am,” he replied. “Thank you, Xion.”

She smiled slightly, still a bit embarrassed next to him.

Isa held out his hand… but not toward the bunnies. Toward her.

“May I?” he said.

“Y… Yes?”

She expected to have her hair ruffled as Lea would do it but instead, her hairs were slightly pushed back and she heard the sound of a clip. She, there, noticed that Isa didn’t have his hairpin anymore. She had it.

“You… You’re sure?” she said.

He nodded.

“I have made a lot of mistakes by the past and you had to pay the price. My apologizes for that. I needed to thank you. Thank you and Roxas. You took care of Lea…”

“He took care of us too!” she said with a smile.

She took his hand, pressing it softly between her hands before moving it toward the bunnies. They didn’t move but sniffed them with perplexity in their tiny eyes. Thanks to Xion, Isa’s fingers brushed the fluffy fur and he smiled.

“Thank you,” he said to her.

“Thank you,” she replied, approaching him slightly.

“What are you doing, Roxas?” Lea called.

They both switched their attention to the teenager who was climbing on a very abrupt hill. Isa frowned but Xion let out a laugh.

“He never stops,” she said.

As she said those words, they could see Roxas calling little birds, singing softly to call them. The animals replied to it. They looked like chickadees with colorful feathers.

“He always wants to impress!” Xion smiled.

She caressed one of the bunnies and the three looked her back.

“Does that work?” Isa asked.

“Sometimes!” she laughed. “He’s doing his best!”

And right now, he really was. The birds had flew on him, called by his voice, and he was trying to walk out, pacing slowly, his arms spread so he could keep his equilibrium. He had the mouth slightly open, the tongue almost out as he was focusing.

He jumped on a little peak of earth and stopped to move, being sure the birds won’t move away. He was about to say ‘I’m coming!’ but decided to say nothing… especially because he could sense he was about to lose those birds. And everybody was watching him.

Beautiful!

He jumped again and almost fell but steadied himself and jumped again. He approached the edge of a slope and let himself slide along the dry earth. He even continued to walk on a root as the bunnies were offering their trust to them, one of them climbing on Isa’s lap. There was something quite relaxing coming from him.

Roxas jumped on the floor and let out a cuss slid out of his lips as he stopped himself in the grass.

The birds moved their tiny wings and one of them even let out an angry little sound but they didn’t move away anyway.

Roxas let out a sigh and came to Xion and Isa. He knelt next to them and the birds flew away… but on them.

Lea smiled and took out his Gummiphone for another picture. It has to be this one on his screen. This joy, his two babies with the one he loved so much, flowers in the blue hairs, a flowery ring around his fingers… and those bunnies and birds with them, making them laugh as the little song was coming from the beaks.

Sure he didn’t want anything else than this happiness for those so dear to his Heart.

  A cold breeze was rolling around. Lea was napping next to them and Xion smiled as she spread flower on him. In his hairs but also on his skin.

Next to them, Roxas was doing his homework because he was always too late for this. Olette kept saying to him to do it but he preferred laughing with Hayner rather than doing it. And also kicking Seifer’s ass, which was less in his friend’s taste because it still was her boyfriend and she had to deal with him when he was crying on her. Being next to Isa, Roxas could ask him a bit of help.

And, in fact, he stretched himself. He had a couple of stuff to do again but it could wait.

As he stretched, some birds flew away as long with a bunny.

“Hm… oops?” he said, looking toward Isa.

Which realized, despise the soft atmosphere between all of them, they were still quite afraid of him. While he understood it, it was painful…

“It’s nothing, Roxas.”

“Thank you.” He looked slightly down. “I’ve something for you, in fact,” he said.

“For me?”

“Yes… Well…” He shoved his hand in his pocket. “I took it at home. It always had been yours, in fact…” He held out a discrete ring with a little jewel and a moon on it. “Sora gave it to me… you lost it when you died.”

Isa took it with emotion. He couldn’t even hide it…

“You have it…”

“I thought you’d be happy to have it.”

“I am,” Isa replied with a nod. “Thank you very much, Roxas. How can…”

He opened his arms.

“Why not with a hug?” he smiled widely.

“Me… hugging you?” Isa repeated out of confusion.

“Yes, of course!”

Isa was surprised but he slid his ring at his finger and hugged him. With a strange but soft tenderness…

“Thank you!” Roxas smiled.

“You’re welcome…” Isa forced a smile back.

Roxas glanced at Lea, still napping, then laid over his sister, whispering at her ear. She let out a petal with surprise and then smiled.

“Sure!” she said. “Axel?! Axel?!” she called with joy.

“Hm?” he groaned.

“Can we go to the feast? Can we? Can we?”

“Hm… yeah,” he replied, stretching with a yawn. “Hmrph…” he groaned.

He tried to have back all his focus and rose up. Xion got up immediately and jumped on his back. He almost fell but let out a light laugh, swirling on himself to make her laugh. And it worked. She clenched on him as much as she could and laughed purely and simply.

Roxas got up and held out his arms.

Lea put down Xion with delicacy and grabbed Roxas to give him the same treatment.

The butterflies, other bugs, birds and even bunnies ran away when they heard this but it was honestly worth it to see the children so joyful. Honestly, Isa regretted how he had treated them… With his influence toward Xemnas, he could have made them happier instead of making them all suffer. Maybe they could have live and be happy instead of all of this…

Roxas and Xion were still laughing and Isa held out his hand to his lover.

“You want me to throw you on Cloud Nine?” Lea smiled.

Isa smirked. “Don’t you dare, idiot,” he said, moving slightly his fingers.

At this moment, Lea could see the ring shone in the sunlight and he smiled, grabbing his hand to help him get up. He pressed his lips on his fingers before bringing him, them, with him. The Capital wasn’t that far away but they still could enjoy the beautiful landscapes. Sliding down that big slope covered with flowers, seeing fishes jumping in the sea. And as they walked across the big bridge, they could hear the feast, the music swirling around and giving the vibes to everybody to dance or anything.

Well… almost everybody because, honestly, Isa just wanted to move away from this. And Lea… he just saw Rapunzel waving to him. He then pressed a kiss on Isa’s cheek quickly.

“I’m coming back! Can you take care of them, my Love?” Lea asked, gesturing toward the children.

They loved Rapunzel and Eugene, and also Maximus and Pascal, being used to see them. Pretty often. But he also noticed they wanted to play. And Isa was doing pretty good with them. That could help them to bond even more.

He blew them a kiss and walked to Rapunzel who threw herself on his neck to greet him.

She was very tactile, because of so many years being trap in a tower, and each time she get the occasion to see someone, she always showed her love. On this, Lea and her were glad to have find each other.

“So, you…” Isa started.

“Can we play with them?” Xion asked, showed a group of children and teenager.

They were painting on the floor, giving as much colors to the town as the hill covered with flowers. And though there are so many children excited and coloring, there was still room to add more and more drawing filling the endless streets rolling around the whole Capital. Chalk sticks were let for everybody to use it and so, as soon as Isa nodded, the teenagers dashed to the chalks and started to pain, talking with animation about what they could do. They wanted to do things reminding them something unique. Special…

And so, they started to draw rabbits, birds and flowers. A cute reminder of that special day. Of that family that was forming when they didn’t expect him. Lea was so sad lately… They never thought Isa would come back, never thought Lea would be truly happy again. Never thought they would accept Isa that easily. They didn’t totally forget the problems and tense between them but they wanted to see the good in him, the good Lea had talked again and again, making them crave for the comeback of someone they would have wanted to see stay in his grave otherwise…

They were afraid of his judgement, especially Xion to be honest, but his slight smile as they were showing him their drawings meant so much for him.

If Lea would have been here, the man would have asked him to take the drawing in picture so they could keep that forever but he wasn’t there. It started to be a long time by the way… and he was out of view.

“Do you know where is Lea?” Isa asked to the children, giving the blue chalk to Xion for her to slide a last touch of color.

“Maybe he ran away,” Roxas smiled.

Isa frowned, his lips twitching slightly. His eyes rolled in the area.

“Just kidding, I’m going to see!” Roxas said.

He glanced at Xion who gave him a look. They still had something planned…

Roxas left the big Grand-Place and from here, he ran and searched after anyone he would know. The Royal Family, perhaps… Even though if they came often, they didn’t know much people…

He walked around and started to ask to everybody if they had seen Lea. Hopefully, the man had a physic special enough not to be mistaken. He just needed to ask a couple of people before finding the place where they were selling the lanterns. Lea was there, sat on the floor with two lanterns and paint.

“Dad?!” he called.

“Yup?” Lea said, looking up at him.

“There is the feast there! You don’t want to come?”

“I will!! I’m doing this first! You and Xion want lantern too?”

“I think we’re fine but we want to see you at the feast!!”

“I’m coming! I’m doing that!”

Roxas leaned over his shoulder and saw he was painting on the lanterns. He was just on the first one and it was pretty shaky. Hard to know what he was trying to do.

“Don’t you want a bit of help?”

“I’m good,” he replied. “It’s for Isa!!”

“But don’t you want share time with him?” Roxas insisted.

“Hm… I wanna! But I’m doing this!!”

“He will get bored…”

“You’re right…” Lea bit his lower lips. “Rap’?” he asked.

Rapunzel ran to him with a big smile, Pascal on her shoulder. “Yes?”

“You busy?” he demanded.

“Yes and no. Why do you need me?”

“Can you go with Roxas and Xion and Isa?” he asked. “You know so well the town!”

“Sure! And I’m happy to meet the one you love!” she said. “And to pass time with Roxas and Xion!” she added with a large smile.

“Thank!!”

Rapunzel leaned in and pressed a kiss on his cheek.

Lea was doubly happy because she will be able to talk with Isa. She often talked about her sad experience, closed in her tower, because it was something eating her, seventeen years and half to be alone and between the hands of the one supposed to take care of her… Isa could talk about that to her. He saw more people than her but it has been hurt by those things too. He saw it. He saw how easy Xemnas had control over him…

If they could both grow over this…

“You’re sure you don’t want me to help you?” Roxas insisted, having Rapunzel hand in his.

“Yeah! I’ll do it myself! Go, go, have fun!”

“Okay…”

Roxas let out a sigh. But what could he do? He just followed Rapunzel to come back with Xion and to the big party.

After a long moment, it was her who joined him and smiled when she arrived nearby. He had done with one of the lantern but still had the second one to deal with.

“Daddy!” she said, approaching him with a smile.

“Hey, Princess!” he replied. “How you doing? Is it fun?”

She nodded and leaned slightly, her hands in her back, looking what he was doing.

“This is stunning!” she said.

“Thank!”

“Do you need help with it?” she offered.

Lea let out the hand and ruffled her hairs because he knew how much she was good at crafting and she would do something absolutely neat. But… it would look less precious if he didn’t do it by himself…

“Thank you, Xion but I prefer you to have fun.”

“We have less fun when you’re here!” she said.

He pointed out his brush to her. “You know what?”

“No?”

“I know Roxas and you love to the death and beyond and that you can’t wish for a better parent but something’s tellin’ me you two are preparing some shit. Right?”

“Me? Him? NEVER!!”

Lea smirked. “I hope for you it’s nothing illegal! You don’t want me to stop feeding you on ice cream?”

“IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIK!!!” she said. “I swear it’s nothing!”

“So it’s something.”

“Crap,” she replied.

He took her in his arms, laughing with her. She hugged him back. He ruffled her hairs.

“Go with your bro’. I’m coming back as soon as possible!”

He wasn’t too worried because he knew Rapunzel was with them and Isa seemed to deal with them correctly.  He thought, with such an atmosphere, it would be easier for them to bond if he wasn’t there now that he could have kept an eye on the whole situation and know there was no risk of murder behind his back…

[b1ipblip]

In Too Deep| 7- Right?

Warning: death

Before entering the mansion, you slide off his back and on your feet. When Namjoon opens the door this time, there is no chaos. Just tense silence remains. Suga sits on the arm of the couch and Jungkook leans back into a recliner with his tablet in hand. The two of them meet Namjoon’s eyes and then each other as they silently figure out who was going to speak first.

“We scanned the whole mansion and all of our offices three times each. We found the rest of the bugs and scrambled them,” Jungkook starts. However, the next sentence wouldn’t form on his tongue. “But...” he trails off hesitantly.

“We still haven’t figured out who it was for sure. We have a list of suspects, though,” Suga finishes.

“Alright, call them down here for interrogation,” Namjoon says. Your body tenses up as you prepare for them to say your name. You know it wasn’t you. Right?

“Y/n,” your heart stops. You slowly pull your eyes to meet Suga’s. You prepare for the worst as your throat shrinks and your chest tightens. “We have no reason to believe that you planted them. It seems someone has tried to frame you,”

A wave of relief washes over your stiff body. Your body decompresses and you allow yourself to put your guard down. Even though the thought of someone framing you for what is pretty much treason is terrifying, it’s less terrifying than being accused of a false crime. You swallow and nod, not trusting your voice. You silently walk up the stairs to your room. Your calf muscles ache with each step, but you don’t stop until you are in your room with the door locked.

You lean against the wall and just breathe. Your back slides down and you take your face in your hands. You stare at the window that was still open from earlier today. Your bottoms of your feet throb and your arms burn. A soft knock brings you out of your daze. “__? It’s just me. Can I come in?” you recognize Hoseok’s voice. 

“Yeah, that’s fine,” you say, not moving from your spot on the floor. The door opens slowly and Hoseok peeks around until he sees you with your knees to your chest. You look up with just your eyes and nod. “Hey,” He sits beside you with his legs crossed and looking out the same window.

“I just came to check up on you,” You respond with a hum. He slides down next to you with his legs crossed. “I’m real sorry for the way Jimin acted today. He just really care for this family. It’s all he has,” you nod, getting where Jimin was coming from.

“It’s fine, really. I was just shaken a bit,” you respond. “I’m just curious of why Namjoon came to get me. He’s the last person I’d expect,” He laughs under his breath.

“It looks like he really cares for you.”

You look at him and lift a brow. “Me? He barely knows me. I get he has some kind of obligation to keep me alive, but I wouldn’t go as far as to say he cares,” you brush off with a smirk.

“No really!” he sits up and looks at you with a grin. “I even offered to get you. He said he wanted to,” he covers his mouth as he laughs. You stare at the floor in silence, taking in his words.

“He’s confusing. One minute he wants to use me in the field and the next it’s this,” Hoseok’s laughter abruptly stops.

“You heard?” he asks, almost ashamed. You nod. “I-”, his words trail off. 

“It’s nothing really. It’s only logical to make a bad situation work in your favor. I don’t think I’d mind doing it either. I’m stuck here, might as well earn my keep,” you shrug a little too nonchalantly. Hoseok looks at you sternly.

“I don’t think you know what you are getting into. This isn’t the life you want,” his eyes bore into yours with each word.

But yours glare right back. “I know it’s not the life I want, but it was the life I was given. I’m already in this deep, and there’s no way around it,” His face falls into something sadder. As much as he wishes you were wrong, you weren’t. You pick yourself off the ground and look down at him with an unreadable face. “I appreciate the concern, though. It means a-” A deafening bang comes from below.

“That sound an awful lot like a gun,” he says in a voice barely above a whisper. You swing the door open and Hoseok scrambles behind you. Out of the hall and down the main stairs, you meet other members who also heard the same shot.

“Does anyone know where that came from?” Hoseok asks the group. Before anyone could answer, Namjoon walks out of a hall and into the foyer splattered in blood. No one moves a muscle or says a word.

“Found the rat. He had the insignia tattooed on his back like a dumbass. Before I shot him, he gave me some good info. Said his leader is to meet someone at one of their clubs tomorrow night. Luckily, I know the owner and can arrange something,” He turns to you with a tight jaw and takes a deep breath. “I need you to do something for me,” He rests a hand on your shoulder. Your head tilts and he takes it as a sign to proceed. “I need you to go undercover as a bartender and get any information you can about him: his whereabouts, his colleagues, anything. I know you have never done this before, but I am asking you out of necessity. I would send Jimin if I could, but they know his face too well. They know all of our faces,” He gets to eye level with you.

“Will you do that for me?” his voice grows softer. A beat later, you nod. The sincerity he held in his voice made it impossible to refuse. He stands up straight and speaks under his breath, “Good girl.” Meanwhile a knot of anxiety forms in your abdomen.

~~

The dimly lit club vibrates with bass heavy music. “Suni?” You whip around at the sound of your made-up name.

“Yes?” you answer. You find a short man standing behind you. Wrinkles around his eyes age his face.

“Namjoon told me you’d be coming. Follow me to the back and we’ll get you dressed,” Dressed? You didn’t think bartenders had a specific uniform. You follow him through the throngs of people. “When Namjoon told me he had a girl coming to see me, this was definitely not the situation I imagined,” You’d rather not imagine the situation. When he gets to the door that said “Women’s locker room”, he ushered you inside.

“Alright girls, this is Suni. She’s working tonight. Find her something nice to wear too,” his voice drops an octave as he finishes his sentence. He shuts the door behind you. Only one or two looked over, but you felt like the world was staring.

All the women in the locker room were obviously not bartenders or waitresses. They were dancers or more specifically strippers. Your face goes red and your shoulders bunch up. You couldn’t see your comfort zone with binoculars from where you were.

“Uh, I think there has been a... mistake? I’m here for a bartending job?” you stumble over your words. Your heartbeat quickens as the full weight of the situation bears on you. But the door slammed shut before he could even hear you. One of the girls finishes strapping on her shoes and walks to you.

“I think he has different plans for you,” she looks at you with a sympathetic smile. “This your first time dancing?” you nod slowly. “Don’t worry, I got you covered. Name’s Mimi by the way,” If you knew how to use your brain, you would have turned around and walked right back out that door to call Namjoon. But you don’t.

She takes you by the hand to a handful of lockers with various clothing. “You hear on a job?” she asks quietly. You start to panic. Your eyes widen and she shakes her head. “Don’t worry, I’ve seen plenty of girls hear for that reason. Your secret is safe with me,” Her gentle smile puts you more at ease.

 “How do you feel about a bikini set?” She shows you a red latex set and your heart leaps into your throat.

“Do you have anything, I don’t know, like... less revealing?” Your insecurities take reign of your voice as you speak between bared teeth.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. You seem more like the shy type. So maybe we can pull some lighter colors? Nothing harsh like neons or black. A lot of guys are really into the whole innocent thing anyway. It’s refreshing,” she rambles before pulling you a lavender bodysuit. It was quite beautiful with the iridescent stones.

It reminded you of the vintage swimsuits with its high leg and deep v halter. “I think this would work. It’s pretty conservative for a dancer,”

“I’ll wear it,” you swallow your fear and change in the corner. You have been sent with a mission. You cannot compromise this. She lends you a pair of shoes with a thick clear heel and lavender feathers. She helps you get ready in a secluded part of the locker room and gives you advice.

“I wouldn’t try anything too crazy on the pole, we don’t want you getting hurt. Think of it as an accessory. Also, there is a no-touch rule on stage. However, if you get called for a private show, they can. Don’t be afraid to leave if someone gets too handsy. They still can’t have sex with you back there though. Don’t let them convince you they can, okay?” Her attempt at comfort only made it worse as your palms begin to sweat. You nod nevertheless and she ushers you onto the stage with her despite your objection.

“Remember, you are here for one reason. And that is to complete the job you have. Hesitation will only get you eaten alive here. So, go out there and do your job,” her words were firm and her gaze was steady. Before you can reply, you can hear the hollering and whistling. She takes you by the hand and struts to the mic. “Alright boys, this is Minx. This is her first night and she’s a little shy. So make her feel welcome,” she tosses her hair back and winks at the crowd. The lighted stage was divided up with two poles per section. The neon beneath the floor glowed red and purple as the song changed into something less generic.

She brings you to a pole and joins you. The bass in the music slows down into something more intimate. You watch Mimi first, absorbing the way her body moves smoothly with the music. You begin to pick up on the movement and began dancing too. You feel eyes pierce your body as you dance. Your ankle hooks around the pole and you twist around. With an arm wrapped around the pole, you follow the moves you’ve seen on youtube. You often went down internet rabbit holes and pole dancing is one of them. Luckily, you have kept your core strength from all those years of judo. Otherwise, you would be making a fool of yourself. 

You distract yourself, thinking about what exactly Namjoon needed to hear. You recall him mentioning the person of interest had a silver eyebrow piercing and rose-colored hair. You search the crowd for someone with these features. Your eyes catch the reflection of the stage lights against a small dot above the eyebrow of a man with blush-tone hair. Jackpot, you think. You focus your gaze on him. He smirks at you and rests his head on his knuckles. 

You push back the memory of your kidnapping. You try not to think about the bruises that covered your arms and legs because of him.

 Songs continue to play and you dance still. Your muscles burn, but you don’t let it show on your face. You’re not sure how you were going to hear him from the stage. You needed to get him during that meeting. It’ll probably be in a private room or somewhere quieter.  Make him take his guard down. Make him believe you aren’t a threat. Make eye contact with him. You roll your hips a little slower and run your hand through your hair a little more often.  You need him to notice you.

He looks down at his watch and walks away from his spot in the crowd. You curse silently. You can’t follow him in; you’d be noticed right away. You continue to dance but your mind is elsewhere. It isn’t until the same old man who brought you to the locker room whistles at you that you remember where you were standing. You glance at Mimi, and she nods you off. You peel off the stage and follow the old man silently. He takes you to a room with large chairs surrounding a table. 

The lights glow a neon red and the wall are painted black. Three men lounge in the chairs. You notice two other girls in the room as well. One is sitting in a lap and the other is pouring a drink. Then your eyes land on the man with pink hair. It was your lucky day, you might get to leave sooner than you thought. NCT’s leader beckons you closer with a single finger. Your shoulders bunch up and you clasp your hands in front of you. “Aw,” he coos. “We got a shy one,” He takes one of your hands and guides you on to his lap. You comply and hold back the vile feeling in your throat when he rests his hand on your ass.

They begin talking about various things such, most of them meaningless at first. Taeyong, you learned his name was, asks you to pour him a drink. You gently pour the drink without letting it splash. You hand it to him and take your seat on his lap once again. “Now let’s talk about what we actually came here to discuss,” You pretend to not listen. “I want to form an alliance,” Taeyong’s hand glides down your back and you try not to shiver. The statement was met with silence. You couldn’t believe he was planning something like this with outsiders in the room. Maybe he was just that cocky.

“Why?” one of the men finally said.

“We all know who’s controlling most of Seoul. I want to take him out and get back what was ours in the beginning. When we do, we’ll divide territory up equally. Everyone gets their share,” Taeyong says bluntly. You listen closely for names. The two men were called Suho and Wonho.

You learn that they want to start by taking the harbors. The rest of the talk is logistics and compromises. While they talk, you formulate the best way to get back to Namjoon and the others. While Suho and Wonho spoke, Taeyong holds the glass of brandy up to you. “Care for a drink?” You knew you couldn’t refuse, not in your circumstances. You nod and go to reach for it. “Ah ah ah,” he tuts. He lifts the glass to your lips and tilts it. The harsh liquor hits the back of your throat and burns on the way down. When he pulls the glass away, he gently wipes away the drop of brandy that escaped your lips. It was odd to you how gentle he was. Even though to him you were just a stripper, his touch was soft. “There you go, now maybe you can loosen up a bit. You seem a little tense. I promise not to hurt ya,” He glides his thumb back and forth across your hip in an almost comforting manner had it not been for the situation you were currently in.

“Okay,” you say quietly. Your shy demeanor and submissive behaviors were absolutely intoxicating to him. He begins to consider whether or not he should take you home. He’d love to see the way you’d blush when he face hovers just inches above yours.

But when the other men begin to leave, you disappear before he could even blink. You wanted to get out of that red room as soon as you could. You trace your steps back to the women’s locker room. Girls chatter back and forth and pay you no mind as you head to the bathroom. You lock yourself in a bathroom stall and call Namjoon. You lean against the cool stall wall trying to ground yourself. Your fried nerves only now begin to show as your hands shake when dialing the number. You look up to the ceiling and let out a ragged breath as the phone rings. “Hello?” he picks up.

“Namjoon is that you?” you ask.

“Yes of course. Is something wrong? You sound panicked,” you swallow hard.

“No no of course not. I- I’m finished. Can you send someone to get... me?” You try your best to keep your anxiety under control through your tight jaw.

“I’m on my way. I’ll get you from the back door. Don’t be alarmed if you see me wearing a face mask,”

You nod to yourself. “Okay, thank you,” you hang up.  You knew that if you kept busy that you wouldn’t panic.

So, you waste no time getting out of the purple bodysuit and back into the clothes you walked in with. You notice bruises beginning to form on your arms and leg. Mostly your forearms and shins where the pole was mostly. Unfortunately, your clothes didn’t cover up all the bruises. They still peeked out from beneath the hem of your pants and your sleeves.

You sit in a chair outside of the locker room with your arms wrapping around you. You bounce your knee and look up every once in a while. The back door was at the end of the hallway you were in. You try to drown out your anxiety by feeling the bass reverberate through your chest until Namjoon got you.

When the back door opens, you immediately stand up. Namjoon saw the startled look in your eyes and approached cautiously. “Alright, we can get out of here. Okay, I parked a block over so that no one could follow,” he gestures for you to follow him out the windowless door.

The sharp wind cuts into your bones the moment you step outside. Goosebumps prickle up your arm and you wrap your arms around yourself. Namjoon walked at your side down the sidewalk. He peeked over and noticed your shivering form. “Oh, I’m sorry,” he shrugs his jacket off. “Here. You must be freezing in that,” he drapes his long coat over your shoulders and you wrap it around yourself.

He found it amusing how small you looked. The coat that reached midthigh for him hung below the knee for you. You shuffled down the sidewalk as fatigue clings to your bones. 

When you reach the car, you slide into the passenger seat while he drives. “So what did you get?”

“They were talking about forming an alliance. There were two other people with him. I think their names were Suho and Wonho,” He purses his lips together. “They want to take Seoul back and split up territory among the three of them,”

“Wonho is Shownu’s right hand. I guess our alliance with the X’s is over,” Your face drops and you look over at him.

“Shownu?” He takes a quick glance and catches your eyes drooping. 

He nods. “I know he was your boss and all, but now we’re his target. This is why tomorrow I want to start training you and build your strength up,” 

You nod slowly and turn towards the window lazily. The conversation dropped off after that. You remained in silence for the duration of the ride home. When you reached home, Namjoon calls for a meeting between the seven members and you. You meet in the living room. The L-shaped couch fills up with bodies.

“Y/n has found out some new information tonight. Y/n, would you please tell the rest?” he turns to you. You nod before beginning.

“They want to form a three-way alliance. Including NCT, the X’s, and whoever Suho speaks for. They said they want to take back Seoul and split the territory. They wanted to overthrow whoever ‘owns Seoul’. They said they wanted to start by securing the harbors,” you repeat. You shrug off the coat Namjoon lent you and leaned forward. You rest your forearms on your knees and sigh.

“Then we need to be one step ahead of them,” V states simply. “We can station some of our men around our ports and wait for them to come to us,” The group nods in agreement. Your eyebrows knit together in thought. It wasn’t that his idea was not good, it just had flaws. Namjoon notices your troubled expression.

“Y/n, you look like you have something to say,” he says, turning a glance towards you, curious of what your were thinking.

“ I’m worried about letting them have the advantage of knowing. They can figure out that their plan to take the ports will be met with resistance, so they’ll be ready if we let them come to us. I'm not saying we should pull up and go in guns a’ blazing and dicks a’ swinging, of course. In fact, that’s about the worst idea given the lack of information you are working with. This little feud seems like it will turn into a war rather than a battle, so we’re in it for the long run. Might as well use our time wisely,” you offer. You are met with silence. “O-of course that’s just what I think. But I am just an outsider of course,” you stutter out after the quiet gets to you.

“There is a state dinner with all the leaders coming up. Of course, we can’t make a scene, but we can gain more information,” Namjoon adds on.

“The more we know about them, the better advantage we get,” Jin says. The group came to an unspoken agreement quickly thereafter. Quick glances to each other assure the leader.

“Are we just going to gloss over the fact that ‘guns a’  blazing and dicks a’ swinging’ just came out of __’s mouth?” Jungkook said. Muffled laughter turns into snickers and you shrug with a smirk.

“I have been told I have a way with words,” you return. To which Jungkook nods almost comically quick.

The laughter dies down and quiet side conversations are being held. You notice Hoseok, who was sitting next to you, staring at your arm. You remember the bruises. “Y/n, you didn’t get in a fight, did you? I wouldn't think the job would call for that,” he asks with worry laced in his voice.

You shake your head, “No, it’s nothing like that,” you brush off with a feigned laugh.

“I know you didn’t have those bruises when you left. So, what happened?” he asks. You freeze. You should tell him the truth, right? There is no reason to hide it. Even though what you did was slightly dehumanizing, there’s no reason for Namjoon to feel bad about sending you on the mission. Would he even feel bad? Maybe he’d think of you as less.

You swallow hard and tell Hoseok anyway, praying the other six were not paying attention. “Let’s just say that I didn’t get to be a bartender tonight. The owner of the club had different ideas,” you say under your breath.

Hoseok’s face drops. “You don’t mean you had to...” he trails off. “He made you pretend to be a stripper?” he looks at you horrified. You press your lips into a thin line and nod slightly, trying not to draw attention to it.

His face suddenly gains a grim almost angry look. “They didn’t touch you, did they?” he asks in a low voice.

“Not i-in the way you’re thinking,” your shoulders bunch. Little to your knowledge, the other conversations halted and attention was focused on you two. “Nothing too bad I g-guess,” you fold in in yourself, recalling the lingering touches.

“Hold on. Touch you? Y/n, what happened?” Namjoon asks, a face of worry overcoming him.

“She didn’t get to be a bartender like you said she would. They made her strip on stage and sounds like being a personal ‘companion’ for Taeyong,” Hoseok answers with a grimace before you can try to come up with a euphemism to down play the situation.

Namjoon rests his head on his hands and runs his fingers through his hair. “No wonder you called me frantic,” he kneads his temples with his fingers. and mutters to himself. “God, I’m an idiot,”

“It’s not your fault so don’t feel bad. I mean, this is just a part of being a part of the job I guess?” You respond callousedly. Hoseok shakes his head fervently.

“No it’s not. It’s not okay,” he says. You bite down in your lip as sympathetic gazes land on your sunken in form.

“He’s right. I promise I won’t let you be put in that situation ever again,” Namjoon swears. “I promise to keep you safe.”

[unholyhelbiglinked]

Dead Ivy | Chapter Three

CHECK IT OUT FROM THE START | AO3 LINK

The house never looked that big before, it was a small two bedroom that was enough for Jason and his wife. He had repainted the gray finish into a pearly white that matched the picket fence. He had replaced the grass and drew little designs on the mailbox to make it look more like home- but now the grass was rotting to a deep brown, and the mailbox’s flag creaked as sticky wind hissed past.

Beca knew she should have grabbed the keys before she got out of her fathers’ truck.

That would have saved her from digging in her messenger bag. There were a lot of papers from the funeral in there, different documents and legal stuff that she would usually pay people to do that for her- which, of course, left a sour taste in her mouth. She hated people like that, but she hated not reading the fine print even more.

They had given her Jason’s things in a plastic bag that reminded her of prison. Beca just remembered staring at the doctor, dry-mouthed and silent against the buzzing fluorescent lights. How could her brother not survive but the set of keys in the ignition were salvaged? It left a thick feeling in her veins.

There was a CD that wasn’t labeled, something they had pulled from the wreckage. A couple of receipts and a picture of his ex-wife that he had, still clipped to the visor. Her father refused to take any of it, so she shoved everything except for the keys into the bottom compartment of her dresser. Of course, now, she couldn’t’ find them.

“Whatever you’re selling, he doesn’t want it.”

The voice startled her into gasping. If she was holding keys, Beca would let them fall to the ground. She had placed the cleaning supplies down by the front door and turned slightly within the bounds of the picket fence. A woman, probably three times her age, was leaning with her garden sheers, way too close to the barrier. She had on a large floppy hat the shaded her ghostly eyes and her pants were coated in grass stains.

“I’m sorry?”

“The young man that lives there, he doesn’t want what you’re selling. We have a strict policy against solicitors, and you can see that there is no car other than yours in the driveway.”

Beca blinked a few times at the woman. She didn’t’ think people like this actually existed. When she was growing up her father would get letters in the mail from the HOA talking about how they needed to trim their hedges or repaint their shutters or else they would get fined for tainting the neighborhood. She never understood people who looked out for that type of thing, but one was standing right in front of her, mouth pressed into a hard line.

“I’m not selling anything.” Beca felt the need to defend herself to this small-town southern belle of the ’50s. “I’m looking for the key.”

She went back to pawing around her back, shoving aside a half-eaten granola bar that was at the bottom. It left crumbs over everything and made it smell like peanut butter, but she supposed there were worse things.

“This place has been vacant for a week now.”

“He’s dead.”

Beca paused in her own movements. She hadn’t said it out loud. She had mulled over it again and again. Her older brother, the kid who used to pick on her about her hair, and her grades, and the fact that she couldn’t pass her driving test on the first try was dead. She had been preoccupied. Busy with arranging his service and keeping up house for the rest of the town. She finally found the key and looked up at the woman, who was quiet for what seemed like the first time in her life.

“He was so young. That’s tragic.”

“It is,” Beca let out a deep sigh and turned the key in the lock. She nodded briskly at the woman before pushing her way into the stifling heat of the house. She was hit with an instant scent of rotted food and stagnant water. The electric had been cut. It left her with the dusty darkness of a bachelor pad.

The house groaned in her presence and she drew in a cloying breath, pressing her back against the door. There were envelopes on the floor, scattered against the hardwood after being shoved through the mail slot. An instant brine of sweat began to adhere her clothes to her skin. Her brother's house looked normal.

Jason’s coat was still hanging on the hook by the front door. There were movies lining the shelves next to a vacant television. A throw moved against the back of the sofa and another picture of his wife was situated by the end table. Beca never understood why he left that there. But then again, she had never been over here to turn the smiling face to the mahogany that it rested on.

She let her boots echo against the flooring as she wondered through everything. There were two bedrooms, one converted into an office, the other had an unmade bed. The dining room was void of a table instead a worn Steinway piano was in its place. She ran her fingers over dusty cover but decided against listening to the notes.

They were both forced to take piano lessons as a kid. Jason wanted to go out for the basketball team instead, and he eventually did. But for three long years in middle school, they both sat with their backs straight and fingers hovering over alternating keys. Beca supposed she did have her father to thank for her affinity in music. Her understanding was owed to Miss Beale.

Beca walked over the fridge and frowned. That same rotted scent of decaying vegetation coated her lungs and she knew she would have to peel open a trash bag and get rid of the food first. It should have been done days ago- all of this had. Instead, she stared at the fridge.

There were letter magnets that were blocky and in primary colors. There didn’t seem to be any combinations that could be read, but they did hold up different poloids. Easter, 07’. Key West, 04’. Honeymoon, ll’. The one that stood out to her was Christmas of 01. Jason was behind Beca, his cheesy smile matching the onesies they both wore in front of a tree too covered in tinsel to ever be considered pine. She leaned into him and they both grinned like they were instructed to.  

Beca jumped when her phone buzzed in her back pocket.

She gulped back the rancid air and blinked away whatever moisture formed in her eyes before frantically fishing her phone out of her back pocket. She didn’t recognize the number, but she welcomed the distraction. “Mitchell.”

“It’s Stacie, I’m so glad I had the right number.” Beca didn’t ask her why, or how, she had gotten it before Stacie spoke again. “Listen, I was serious about getting together. You busy?”

Beca glanced around and brought her fingers up to her collarbone. She instinctively scratched at where a necklace had once been. A nervous habit, she supposed. “No, not at all. What did you have in mind?”

Beca Mitchell ended up at the Snake Eye, the very place she didn’t want to find herself in while staying in the sleepy little town. The music was too loud, and there was an undeniable thickness to the air that culminated in half-rate nachos and open mic nights. High school Beca would have loved this place- hell, college graduate Beca would have loved it too.

“I got you a beer!” Stacie called over the music, shoving a cold amber bottle into Beca’s hand. “I hope that’s okay.”

“It’s perfect, thanks!”

Beca would have taken rubbing alcohol at this point. Anything that would drown out, or at least dull, the sound of the pulsing music. Every seat was taken at the bar, and the few tables that the place had were occupied. Some college girl was mumbling her way through Bohemian Rhapsody, probably on a dare from her friends sitting a few booths down.

Stacie pulled Beca into a vacant corner of the bar. It was oddly quieter on the plush leather seats. She set her beer down on the table and tried to distract herself by reading whatever was on the menu. It was tailgating food and all of it was a greasy mess, yet, Beca found herself craving jalapeno poppers.

“Sorry, this is such short notice. All my residents ended up coming down with the same flu that they were treating last week.” Stacie took a long gulp of her fruity drink. “I feel bad, but I’ve got the night off, and you probably need an escape.”

“I do, yeah, though, I refuse to get up on that stage.”

“What? The singing bug finally left your bones?”

Beca snorted and shook her head. She wasn’t much of a singer, to begin with, sure, she had a voice. Almost everyone from her childhood did. She remembered the after-school jazz band and the concerts that the school would put on.  “I’m more a behind the scenes type of girl.”

“Right, right. Bigshot producer now, I bet a few of your songs are in that book up there.”

Her cheeks heated at that, but she knew the doctor meant well. She was sure there were a few that she had helped produce. Big pop songs that let her top the charts without giving her the fame. Of course, she still found herself pulling her baseball cap down, or looking away from whatever cameras had spotted her. Not here, though. No one knew this place existed.

“That’s pretty cool, Mitchell. Getting out of this place and making a name for yourself.”

“Please, you are literally a doctor. You save lives daily.” Beca took a swig of her own beer, letting the sour liquid sooth her nerves a bit. “That’s dope, dude.”

“Not always. I pull more marbles out of asses than I do bullets.”

Beca frowned at the statement, scrunching up her nose before the two of them burst into laughter. If felt like it used to: she could remember sitting in the refinished garage that Stacie had converted into somewhat of a man cave. There was a fold out couch, and the hum of the dryer would lull them into placid conversation. Stacie stole a beer from her father, and they drank it in there. Two years later she produced a sloppily rolled blunt, and they smoked it there, all while making crass jokes and cracking up. It felt normal.

They both let out an involuntary groan as the first three notes of a Toni Braxton song filled the bar. Beca pressed her forehead against the table and Stacie shifted in the booth to get a good look at whoever had chosen a ballad like Unbreak My Heart.

“No fucking way,” Stacie mumbled, setting her sloshing drink down. “Mitchell, you wouldn’t believe…”

Though, when the first ballad started, Beca did believe. She had heard that voice a million times and had more than enough nights where she fought to forget it. Right now, it was shockingly crushing one of the hardest songs humanly possible to sing- though she had no doubt.

Chloe Beale. Restaurant owner. Single mother- and oh god, wearing really tight jeans.

There weren’t many lights that illuminated the half-baked stage in the karaoke bar. But that didn’t’ seem to matter. A mix of blue and white shaded Chloe while the whole place seemed captivated by the words of a heartfelt breakup song. Ouch.

“She’s crushing it.”

“Mm,” Beca could only hum in agreement as she traced Chloe’s body. Of course, a deep acid still burned against her veins from their curt interaction earlier that morning. She looked so different- so freeing with the mic in her hand and all eyes on her. “I think I need some air.”

Before Stacie could interject Beca pushed herself away from the booth and walked through the crowd that had all turned to face the stage. She didn’t blame them. Her whole body was on fire, like the atoms that made up her God complex were struggling to pull her back. She didn’t know if the hot Georgia air was doing her any favors, but it muted the song.

She let out a dull sigh and pressed her body close to the brick, closing her eyes. She could hear the crickets mix with the low croaks of bullfrogs. She used to find it odd when both were quiet. When she could only hear her breath- but she was used to LA traffic, a different type of loud and never that unsettling silence.

The music picked up again when the door opened and closed. A couple that was sure to move on to their next destination for the night. Stacie coming out to check on her. A bartender coming out for a smoke while they sat on an old plastic carton.

Beca let her eyes shoot open once more when the warmth of another cut through her focus. She steadied herself, hands grasping at her arms. Familiar. “Oh my god, I am so sorry, I-“Chloe Beale wasn’t alone, her breath scarce. She was still riding the high of the stage. “Beca.”

The girl that was with her was tall, towering with those brown doe eyes that could melt the sharpest hearts encased in ice. She wore a floral sundress, loud colors that somehow worked on her lanky frame. A leather coat was against her shoulders to counter the cold of the bar.

“Twice in one day, wow.” She said.

Beca scanned the stranger up and down, not taking her eyes off of her. She was pretty. Very pretty. “It’s a small town- I don’t think we’ve met.”

“Oh, we haven’t.” She said, chipper as ever. “My names Emily. And you’re Beca, Chloe has told me all about you.”

She raised her eyebrows, giving a slight tilt of the head towards Chloe. Her cheeks were red and Beca couldn’t’ tell if that had changed from before this topic of conversation was brought up. She hated the heat that licked at her own throat- she had no right, none whatsoever, to feel that surge of jealousy towards this tall stranger. They had forgotten each other. Forgotten the way they felt against each other. Forgotten how they loved, and how they hated. How they hurt.

“You did very well up there, Chloe.” Beca finally conceded. “Just like old times.”

“Sure,” Chloe’s eyes were hard, that signature blue not shining as it had before. Was it anger? Was it betrayal? Was it both? Beca couldn’t tell before Chloe looped her arm around Emily’s middle and lilted her head. “We have to be going. Have a good night, Beca.”

They walked past and Beca pretended not to get overwhelmed by the vanilla scent that both girls carried. Instead, she simply mumbled dejectedly. “You too, Chloe.”

[notsugarandspice]

goodnight n go

Read it on AO3.

for @itfandomweek Cold prompt thingy :3

Rated T?? (idk), Reddie, Cold Weather, Sharing a Bed, First Kiss, based on a song, decade-long pining (what else is new), the heater is down, and everything is meant to be

“Rich, you barely have enough time to sprint from the cab.”

Richie’s smile was small which is a rarity on itself but what really surprised Eddie was the pressure of fingers around his jaw. His heart was just about to leap out into the hallway of the stuffy apartment building. Eddie had a hundred regrets about not drinking his wine faster - maybe he’d have enough courage to do what his brain kept replaying on a loop.

“Do you even know how hard it is to say goodbye to you, Eds?” It should’ve been funny, like any hilarious joke Richie always tells that Eddie pretends not to laugh at. But the tone is serious, filled with longing, so breathy at the nickname. Eddie’s chest was burning.

“Shut up. Just say goodnight and go.”

Richie brushed a thumb on Eddie’s cheekbone and let his fingers get tangled in overgrown blond waves. He pushed Eddie’s head to his lips and pressed them to the forehead, lingering there a bit. Richie quickly slipped through the door rapping his knuckles on the wall outside in a rhythm of yet another song stuck in his head.

Eddie barely had enough time to do the dishes and settle back on the couch when he got a text from Richie. He rolled his eyes, but a wide smile spread on his face vis a vis the tumbling feeling in his stomach that’s been growing more violent throughout the years.

RT: shitfuck missed my train. mind if I stay with u?

Eds: I fucking TOLD you

RT: -______-

Eds: Fine.

Eddie quickly got up from the couch to clean up the area, even though they just hung out there not thirty minutes earlier. He went to the closet in his room to pull out some spare bedding for the couch, his head swimming with wine and the influx of thoughts that screamed all the things he tried not to think about. Eddie just started making the daybed when he heard a similar rattle of knuckles on the front door. For whatever reason, Richie never used the doorbell.

Eddie opened the door and his cheeks instantly flushed because of the red on Richie’s - it’d been extremely cold all week, and the other barely wore enough clothing to prevent hypothermia. Eddie dragged him in by the hem of the jean jacket.

Richie snickered and caught Eddie’s hand to press a cold kiss to it, making the smaller man blush an even deeper red. “You know, if you wanted it rough, you could’ve just said so, Eddie-Spaghetti.”

“Rich, you- Why can’t you ever wear normal, weather appropriate clothes?” Eddie gave him a once-over, a little irritated with himself for enjoying an image of Richie in a tight black turtleneck.

Richie stepped a little closer, crowding the other’s space in a cramped hallway. “Weather appropriate clothes is no clothes, babey.” He dragged the tongue over the top row of uneven teeth accompanied by a wink and Eddie was starting to consider poking his eyes out, just so he doesn’t have to catch himself staring at his friend’s mouth every other second.

“Idiot, you know the heater barely works. No clothes will literally send you to the ER. Shoes.” Eddie pointed a finger down and quickly escaped the proximity that made his lungs temporarily close up. “You want a drink?”

“What?” asked Richie, stuck taking off his beat-up Converse.

“DO YOU WANT A DRINK?” screamed Eddie, poking out from the opening of the kitchen. He winced when he felt the chill of the tiles through two layers of socks.

“YEAH!”

Eddie poured them both some red wine (his stash was rather extensive since Ben’s failed attempt at opening a liquor store) and went straight to the living room, Richie already there, staring stupidly at the half-made bed in front of him. “Please tell me you’re not going to sleep on the couch because of me.”

Eddie snickered and reached out the glass, shivering from the warm brush of Richie’s finger. “Yeah, fat chance. You’re sleeping here.”

Richie groaned and fell down on the clean unmade sheets, dramatically covering his face with a bare pillow. “I can’t believe you’re making me sleep in your freezing living room. You literally have two small heaters in your bedroom.”

“Let me get this straight, your concern over my sleeping arrangements was just you making sure you’re not sleeping here?” Eddie cocked an eyebrow and placed his glass on the coffee table, intent on completing the pull-out.

“To-may-to, to-mah-to, Eds.” Richie put the pillow behind his head and started nonchalantly sipping on his wine, his eyes trained on the TV as if he could will it to turn on with the power of his gaze.

Eddie yanked the pillow from under the man’s head and smacked him with it. “Get the fuck up, Richie, I need to finish making the bed.”

“I can help you finish,” said Richie with a grin and Eddie got perfectly still for a second. Richie’s eyes got even larger behind his glasses as if he knew what’s coming and he just had enough time to lift the glass above him when Eddie lied down on his back and started kicking at his friend’s side, making him tumble over. Richie’s laughter filled the room, and his stupid grinning face was starting to really bug Eddie.

“Damn, you’re extra feisty today.”

Eddie rolled over and started putting on the pillowcase. “Bold of you to assume I’m not extra feisty every day.”

Richie made a mock-impressed face and leaned on the bed with his elbows, the glass abandoned on the floor. “Touché.” Eddie could feel Richie’s eyes on him, scanning and interested. “Need some help?”

Eddie looked at his friend, at the ocean blue in his eyes, a small stubble on his chin and the little wrinkles on the sides of his eyes because Richie always smiled with his whole face. He felt like he fell in love with him all over again. You’re thirty and nothing ever happened and not going to happen. Get your head out of your ass.

“Penny for your thoughts?” asked Richie, tugging on the strings of Eddie’s hoodie.

Eddie could feel his whole face go crimson and he coughed out embarrassingly, stuffing the pillow into the case with his fists. “S-sorry, I just- I’m tired, ’s all.”

“Right,” said Richie with an emotionless tone and got up to walk towards the bathroom, his frame visibly rigid. Eddie didn’t understand what he did wrong, but he continued the motion, chastising his own stupidity.

Eddie finished making the bed and sat back down with a wine glass in hand, unable to concentrate on his planned reading. He was trying to will his brain to stop creating scenarios where he crawls under these sheets with Richie to keep him warm. Because that would be totally normal for two gay best friends.

Eddie’s ears started to hurt from the cold of the living room, and he put the hood up, making himself smaller on the daybed. He wished he was already tired enough to go to sleep but in all honesty, the time he spent with Richie this afternoon wasn’t nearly enough. It was never enough. Every time his friend stepped out of his apartment he wanted to yank him right back, and do anything: talk, watch movies, listen to music, play board games. He wasn’t picky when it came to Richie.

Richie stepped out of the bathroom already armed with sweatpants and a baggy sweatshirt, his hair in a messy black bun, cheeks red from the hot water. He looked so cozy and cuddly, Eddie’s stomach tumbled thirty times over from the image. Richie plopped down on the couch and gave Eddie one of those small, shy smiles.

“You tired yet? Want to watch a movie?” And that was more than enough incentive for Eddie to want to stay up.

They ended up talking through the whole movie, Eddie’s legs in Richie’s lap, their bodies so close together that the freezing cold was long forgotten. Richie was animatedly telling Eddie about the most talented client of his, a teenage girl who has the biggest heart and the best voice in the industry. Richie was sure she’s going to be a star in less than two years.

Eddie was blossoming under Richie’s excitement, observing the way the smile never left his face, the way he kept grabbing onto Eddie’s shoulder when he remembered something he forgot to mention, the way he frowned adorably when he couldn’t recall somebody’s name (Richie was horrible with names, great with nicknames). There was always so much energy surrounding Richie even when he was on the verge of passing out, his contagious enthusiasm making everyone around him giddy with excitement. But he was obviously exhausted, the screen had been rolling credits for the last minute or so and Richie had been repressing yawns by pinching his face. This time it made Eddie laugh so much, he doubled over.

“Alright, time to sleep,” said Eddie getting up from the couch, instantly shivering from the lack of physical contact. He took the empty glass from Richie’s hand, and the man finally let himself yawn, his mouth stretching so wide that Eddie was legitimately worried its corners were going to snap.

“Shit, Spaghetti, that wine made me so sleeeepy,” said Richie turning on his stomach, burying his face in the pillows.

Eddie simply snorted in response, unable to form any other coherent sentence to the adorable image in front of him. He placed the glasses in the sink and shut off all the lights besides the tiny night light by the couch. Richie was lying down on top of all the covers and Eddie had to drag them from underneath the guy, almost making him fall over again. He quickly threw the covers over Richie, took the glasses off and undid the bun, lightly spreading the hair. Richie sighed deep and quickly grabbed onto Eddie’s wrist as he started straightening out.

“Come snuggle, Eds. I promise I’m better than a heater.” He couldn’t see Richie’s face that well but his voice was soft and deep. All Eddie wanted was to be brave enough to cross the line he’d been afraid to cross since he was fourteen.

Eddie twisted his hand to play with Richie’s fingers silently, his chest constricting painfully. “Go to sleep, Rich.”

“‘Kay. Goodnight.”

Eddie sighed and missed the touch of Richie’s surprisingly warm hands. His were cold as ice. “Goodnight.”

He walked into his room, closing the door to keep the heat in. But as soon as he shut it, he noticed that the temperature wasn’t different from the hallway. He looked up at the ceiling speaking to no one in particular. “Fucking great.”

His nightlight was off, and he realized that electricity must’ve shut off in the goddamn ten seconds it took him to walk towards his room. Eddie fell on the bed face down, sheets icy and uninviting. He tried burying himself in the duvet and a million pillows, and his body wasn’t shaking anymore, but he felt like he was making the biggest mistake trying to get comfortable here. His mind kept going back to the image of Richie, covers under his chin, a dopey smile on his face. Eddie’s heart started speeding up before he even decided to move his legs off the bed, silently walking towards the living room as if a magnet drew him closer.

Richie was still in the same position, turned away towards the window, his back to the hallway. Eddie breathed out, his freezing hands sweating from the nervousness. He slowly lifted the covers and lied down sideways, already so much warmer than he was under his fluffy duvet. He breathed in for courage and moved closer, his thighs bumping into the back of Richie’s, making his heart bounce violently. He was steeling himself to move closer when he felt Richie’s hand on his, wrapping his own over the taller man’s waist. An insanely wide smile spread on Eddie’s face, and he hid it between Richie’s shoulder blades, breathless with their close proximity. He moved his hips closer, completely attaching himself to Richie and kissed his friend’s back, overcome with emotion. He was sure Richie was at least half-asleep and wouldn’t feel anything through the fabric anyway, but then his friend turned around, still pressed to Eddie.

Richie grabbed under Eddie’s knee, throwing the leg over his hips, now even closer, too close, too close. He saw the outline of Richie’s face in the dark but couldn’t see the eyes, couldn’t tell what he was thinking. Richie’s hand moved from the thigh to Eddie’s hip, the feeling so heavy and new, creating small tornadoes in the pit of Eddie’s abdomen.

“Did you come to keep me warm, Eds?”

Eddie swallowed, the scent of wine washing over him. “To keep me warm too.”

“We haven’t cuddled since 8th grade.” Richie tucked some of Eddie’s hair behind the ear, fingers brushing the jawline afterward.

“It was already too late.”

Richie chuckled, somehow pressing even closer now. “What, middle schoolers aren’t allowed no-homo snuggles?”

Eddie couldn’t help but smile, playing with the strings on his sweatshirt. “No, idiot. I mean- I mean it was already too late for me. We didn’t stop on time.”

Richie raised his chin a bit, and they had to find each other’s eyes in the dark. “Didn’t stop what?”

“I dunno…whatever I feel for you. It was already too late. Like a year or so.”

He couldn’t feel Richie’s breath on his cheeks for several seconds. “Whatever you feel for me? Is this your way of telling me you liked me since 8th grade?”

Eddie rolled his eyes in the dark, his cheeks burning as much as Richie’s hand was burning under his sweatshirt now. “This is my way of telling you I loved you since 7th grade.”

Richie brushed their noses together, their lips impossibly close. “Damn, Eds. Seventeen years? Way to leave the guy hanging.”

Eddie moved the inch that separated them and gave Richie the softest kiss, a kiss he reserved for him, and him only. Eddie’s fingers flew to the stubble on Richie’s jawline, rough but inviting. Richie’s arm instantly covered the entirety of Eddie’s back, pressing him closer, so close it almost hurt. Eddie’s leg did the same to Richie’s lower back, pushing more and more and more. Somehow Richie’s tongue touched his and Eddie released an embarrassing strangled noise, his body so hot it could probably warm up the whole building. He bit into his friend’s lower lip and was about to dive in for more when Richie drew back, breathing hard. They were so close Eddie could feel Richie’s rapid heartbeat against his own chest.

“Holy shit, Eds,” he huffed a laugh, “we really need to slow down.”

“You’re kidding, right? It’s only been more than a decade, why don’t we wait one more.”

Richie laughed loud, his face in the crook of Eddie’s neck. “Eddie, my love, I think decades worth of pinning probably require some sort of a talk.”

Eddie drew back to be face to face with Richie. “What, you think I was joking?”

“No,” Richie brushed his thumb on the other’s cheek, “I just want this to be real. I need to make sure this isn’t our secret in the dark, y’know?”

Eddie knew exactly what he meant. He instantly felt bad for even pressing. He waited so long, he could wait a couple of hours in Richie’s arms. “Deal. First in the morning,” said Eddie, punctuating the statement with his index finger.

“You got it, cutie.” Richie kissed Eddie’s finger and turned him to the side, sighing into the soft blond hair. Eddie forgot it was December. His whole life suddenly felt like summer.

Perma Tag: @d-nbroughs @j0ys @tinyarmedtrex @aizeninlefox @studpuffin @constantreaderfool @its-stranger-than-you-think (I’m removing some people who don’t interact - I’m not here to force my work on anyone, so no hard feelings. Let me know if you want to be removed/added to a perma list or a specific fic ♡)