#English Painted Pine Desk

[arantiques]

Antique DESKS/ BUREAUS - 19th C English painted pine 7 drawer desk. 1880. Kneehole: 47w x 59h cms..

[ghostlytide]

For Business Only | One

I hope you like it ^^

Vincent Renzi x Fem! Reader----1.6K

MASTERLIST -> Next

Synopsis:

After the whirlwind affair Vincent and you shared years ago, he was sure his goodbye was definitive. A fleeting memory filled with both regret and a peculiar ache that he can’t quite place. But life wishes to scorn him once again when his newest case obliges him to seek out your help. Though this case isn’t the only complicated thing in this strictly professional relationship—not with the way his heart seems to jump at your proximity, or the already familiar tune of your voice. For all the things that had changed, would this mean your story could have a different ending now?

General Tags: Second Chance/Exes to Lovers; Slow Burn; |They were Coworkers; Denial of Feelings; Pining & Longing; Idiots in Love; Eventual Friends (?) with Benefits (?); English isn't my first language so watch out for typos;

It was a late spring night when Vincent said his goodbye to you, so it was only fair that your reencounter would occur in another.

Life played both hommage and karma at him, remembering his words: You may forever hate me, but I promise you that you'll never see me ever again. I've bothered you enough.

That night, he had regained the common sense that had slipped out his grasp since you entered the law firm as an intern; eager to learn from whoever would spare you a glance for something more than to request their thousandth cup of coffee.

Of course, he did.

And how could he not to? When you were so bright and cheerful, all the opposite from those seniors who had seen the worst, to experience who knows how many times the balanced and blind justice's weight to tip at the wrong side. To have to face the client's hopeless expression.

Of course, you'd probably be sheltered from such a dark world at your station once you reached juniorship. But that wasn't the point right now.

Just as it wasn't the point to reminisce. He felt as ashamed as it could be possible while climbing the stairs of the skyscraper, which on the inside was decorated with pieces of steel, glass, and contemporary art that combined perfectly against the simple columns and the frescoes painted in the dome of the main hall.

Vincent shouldn't be overwhelmed by the sight, but he'd never been inside the Building of the Société Générale, white marble walls against a dark mosaic creating a cube to showcase the colorful paintings hung on the walls.

The secretary at the front desk showed him the way to the elevator behind the reception, polished black walls against the metal door as Vincent felt a pull in the pit of his stomach—either for the sudden upward movement or for nervousness, he didn't wish to dwell much on it.

Walking much faster than he wanted to, the secretary passed through an empty, quiet hallway in which Vincent could read a myriad of plaques varying from Accounting Department, all the way to Human Resources.

Finally, she stopped at a door labeled as Banking Associate: Cultural Department. Calling your name, she said: "Monsieur Favrè has sent his lawyer impromptu to meet you."

A muffled voice—your muffled voice echoed in the still hallway, stirring old memories inside of him he wasn't aware of keeping in the first place. "Alright. Let him come in."

A simple nod and the woman was gone. It was only the two of you now.

He took his time, a skipping beat. At the same time, you finished writing away at your keyboard. Then the door was closed with a gentle click.

"Monsieur Delaroux, what can I do for y—" A tentative pause, your bright, smart eyes locked into his. "Vincent?"

This hadn't been the deal planned out in his mind; he was almost hoping you'd ask, with a puzzled voice, who he was as if memory could morph at will rather than being one's source of torture.

So many years passed since he heard his name coming out of your soft lips, that if he remembered quite well, would taste like mocca and vanilla. But why was he remembering that now, from all times?

"Hello," he said, an awkward smile shining in the well-lit office. He put one of his hands inside the pocket of his dress pants, suppressing the childish urge to wave.

You blinked. "What… what are you doing here?"

"I know this isn't what we agreed on," he started, using small steps to get closer to the desk, as if you were a deer likely to run off, or a lion ready to pounce. Vincent had no idea which of the two could be worse. "But I need your assistance for a case. You're the most capable person I can think of, so I had to come and ask for your help."

Reclining from your seat, he let the words simmer into you, using the little time he had to look around your office, part of him was curious to see if he could still recognize a glimpse of the old you, and what he could learn from the present.

"How did you find me?" you asked, hands gesturing from him to sit in front of your desk.

"There are not many art lawyers with your name," he said, slightly flustered he had to admit about searching your name among colleagues, prying into your life when his promise was all the contrary. It wasn't the first time he felt like a fool, yet prideful because he was here for work.

And solely for work.

"I have a case linked with a small private art collection." His voice was plain, devoid of any emotion. He wasn't Vincent right now, the man that tried not to break your heart but failed terribly; he was Maître Renzi one of the talented lawyers from the before small law firm that now was rising like smoke after every case taken. "A murder. Probably linked to the growing art stock. I need an expert in the subject to conduct the required procedures."

"Since when do you take cases about private art collectors?" you hummed, eyes almost twinkling with amusement from all those times he had shit on the upper class and their slippery ways around the judicial system.

It was a good sign that you weren't bringing up his words last spoken, the past that at this moment felt too much aflush despite the time trying to bury it.

"This one is an exception." He couldn't help but get defensive, feeling like a stupid teenage boy being teased despite you being quite some years younger than him. "The owner of the law firm assigned me this case directly. We need to win so the firm can have an expansion." Which meant more law specialties, and more hired lawyers. And then it was… "They're even considering putting an Art Law department."

You could join, he almost said foolishly. Why would you like to be coworkers with him again, when that exact professional relationship prompted all the rest?

You seemed to be thinking the same. "It'll pay well," he added before you could say anything that derailed from his sketched conversation. "And it can help with your curriculum." Vincent signaled to the plaque in front of your computer, reading Junior Consultant. "It could be the case that turns you into a Senior."

There it was the ghost of you, biting your bottom lip in a pondering manner while your gaze was glued to the empty seat next to him.

"What makes you think you're going to win?"

"Have some faith in me, will you?" He chuckled, though deep inside he knew what you meant. It was a question that always lingered at the bottom of his mind, the one that stole his sleep some nights.

"Vincent—"

"Trust me. This is a high-profile case, very important for all people involved. I need your help. I know you're the only person that can help me." He couldn't make another empty promise. To never see you again? Vincent just broke it, and the opposite of that, to be partnered with you as colleagues didn't sound appropriate either. "You're the only one I can trust to remain on my side even if everything goes to shit," Vincent muttered after a while, blue eyes searching for yours as he tried to convince you with pity, even. Because you could never say no to him, and because this case was obliged to use all the desperate, creative measures he could think of.

Though Vincent wasn't lying about said statement. And you knew it.

You looked at him in a long, silent gaze that felt strangely, annoyingly charged inside the medium-sized office, silent so thick he heard the moment you chortled, a breathy, contained laugh that blessed him with the tiniest of smiles.

"Send me the generalities of the case so I can give it a glance tomorrow and write the protocol to follow."

"If tomorrow is one of your free days, we can discuss it over lunch," Vincent found himself saying before his brain could tell him to do better. "I'll give you a printed copy of everything so you can revise it easier. I apologize, but due to the nature of this case, I don't find myself comfortable with sharing this information via remote."

You put away the pencil you were playing with, settling it against the wooden desk with a thunk. "Breakfast. Tomorrow at 9 AM meet me at the Fontaine Saint-Sulpice. We can go to a nearby café once there." Looking from your computer to him, you arched an eyebrow. "Something else you need? You should go before the receptionist notices that you aren't Monsieur Favrè's lawyer."

He shrugged. "I showed her my card, she didn't say anything."

"Well, I'm not allowed to take private clients while on my shift."

"I'm not a client, we're colleagues."

You gestured away. "Wording. You know what I mean."

"You're a lawyer, Mademoiselle, wording matters."

"I write contracts and track art exhibits, Vincent," you told him in a familiar tone he recognized from when you two engaged in a well-needed, unwinding banter. "The one asked to give speeches is you, not me."

"Well, then you better prepare for an exception, because you will have to declare at court about your findings." Vincent heard your sigh and took in the sight of your angry pout, one you dedicated at him when it was time to get out of his office and help other junior lawyers while on your time as an intern. He was surprised to find it as charming as it once was. "I'll see you tomorrow, then."

He stood up, torn between walking facing you or just striding toward the door. He did the last one, turning to smile at you while his hand tapped to feel the door's handle.

It was his time to call your name. "Thank you. Truly."

You nodded, one of the locks of your hair falling toward your brow, obscuring your view. "I'll see you tomorrow, Vincent."

[viscountess-nila]

Six Months - Bridgerton oneshot

This occurs in the two years Benedict spends pining for his "lady in silver" benedict is pathetically in love with her, but he doesn't know who she is yet. Basically, some Benedict pining and Bridgerton family bonding - no plot only toothache causing fluff

Six months.

Six months of losing his mind, tearing his heart, going to every ball, soiree and promenade in the off season (to his mother's astonishment and Eloise's disappointment), for the slightest sign of her.

Six months of drawing her eyes in every corner of paper he had, seeing those dark chocolate eyes every time he shut his own, but never once when they were open.

Six months of merciless dreams, of feeling that kiss with crystal clarify, her laugh ringing faintly in his memory, the slight accent in her words making his heart skip a beat even in his imagination - and yet not a sight of her in real life.

He didn't realise falling for someone would be so easy.

Was this how it had been for his siblings? Had Daphne felt like no one else understood her better than Simon when they met? Had Anthony felt an invisible string pulling him and Kate closer and closer, as though it was impossible to look away from her? Did Colin lose his mind thinking of Penelope, his dreams and thoughts filled of one person?

Benedict wanted them here (not that he'd ever admit that to them) they would understand, help him find her or help him deal with the madness his Lady in Silver had left in her wake.

He just wanted someone who had felt the same madness - who better than his lovesick siblings?

Sure he had Eloise, and she had been steadfast comfort without even trying, but he- he wanted his older siblings (they became each other's older siblings over the years, age was not the determinant)

Alas, they were all in different parts of the globe, Daphne with her third pregnancy, Colin and Penelope having left to Italy with little Thomas in tow and Kate and Anthony yet to return from India, leaving Benedict in London.

Both his sisters-in-law had written to him, making even him consider leaving the country, but the prospect of her presence made him stay.

There was Penelope's letter, just last week describing Italy and Thomas's exploits, stealing chocolates and charming shopkeepers in such vivid detail Benedict had been tempted to paint (he'd ended painting her, silver mask, dark eyes, rose pink smile and silky black hair)

Kate also wrote, stating their little boy was fine, jumping into streams, climbing trees, constantly babbling in Tamil, Hindi and English and begging his parents for stories his many uncles and aunts - though his nephew's name remained unrevealed (Kate claimed it was a surprise).

But who else would they name him after, except both their fathers? (he had stopped asking after one point, where he became preoccupied with finding another name, the name he wished he had asked her that day, the day he fell in love)

To say he was excited about his nephews would be an understatement, so he had replied, eagerly asking when they would return. While Penelope had said they would be staying in Italy for another month, Kate's latest letter (5 months ago) expressed both her and Anthony's want to return to their mantle of Viscountess and Viscount, and that even their son wanted to meet the faces of the many stories he had heard.

Benedict was not sure the young boy had a good image of his uncle, given that Anthony was the one telling the stories.

Seeing as the journey took 4 to 6 months, they should have been back by now (Violet and Benedict took turns looking out the window for an arriving carriage, even Eloise had eventually joined).

But they weren't here, so life went on as it was, dreaming and wishing.

Benedict sighed, trying to focus on the ledgers on the desk in front of him, knowing well enough he would end up sketching her eyes again.

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

Two weeks later, the preparations for the next social season were in full swing, and as Benedict and Eloise were about to enter their house, returning from a promenade (he needed an excuse - Eloise had been bribed with writing equipment and some good articles on feminism), the long-awaited carriage finally rolled up to their gates.

As the doors opened, Benedict heard a bright, young voice with a similar lilt as Kate's "Amma, Amma WE HE-YA!"

The familiar voice that replied had Benedict grinning and Eloise rushing to the carriage, "Yes, Chellam, we're here. This is Bridgerton-", Kate's eyes lit up as she noticed Eloise approaching and hugged her, beaming at Benedict as they broke apart from the embrace.

"Nice to see you all again"

Eloise was practically vibrating, "Kate, I've missed you so much. There isn't another intellectual person in this house-"

"And you've missed genius presence, I know", Anthony cut in, a huge smile gracing his face, holding his toddler son in his arms.

Benedict did not realise how perfectly Kate and Anthony's features could mesh, but here was he was, his long-awaited nephew tugging at his father's collar, insisting he can walk on his own.

Anthony met his eyes, noticing Benedict's attention, smile getting softer, his eyes a little brighter than usual, "He'll tell you his name, if that's what you're wondering", as he let his son stand, his hands not leaving the toddler until he found his balance.

His nephew looked up at Anthony, and at the responding smile and nod, he turned to Benedict, beaming, "I readh aa' you lethers"

Kate laughed and Benedict crouched down, his grin widening, "Did Amma tell you who sent the letters?"

He shook his head, "Noo, Papa and Amma tell me sthowies", his baby smile grew, "You closer to cloudhs that Papa, so you Unc-uh Bene- Ben- Benny!"

At that, Benedict laughed as well, though he could also feel something pricking his eyes as he lifted his nephew up, admiring the adorable mix of Anthony's face, Kate's eyes and all their spirit, "And you're Edmund Milan Bridgerton, aren't you"

He smirked at Kate 'I figured it out'

But, to his surprise, Kate smirked back, as the boy in his arms giggled, glancing at his Papa who grinned back, "Go on, darling, tell Uncle Benny your name"

Had he got the order wrong? Was it Milan Edmund Bridgerton, then?

"Papa saidh you say wong", there was pure glee in the young boy's face, "Me Edhmundh Bene- Ben- Benny Bidg-ton"

Oh. Oh.

Edmund Benedict Bridgerton

He didn't expect that.

Or that it would affect him this much.

But after a lifetime of feeling like he would never be valued by his brother, to realise he named his first son after him-

The pricking feeling in his eyes seemed to aggravate.

"Alright, alright, no need to start bawling, brother dear", Eloise taunted, though even her eyes seemed to sparkle a little, "You're not the only one who needs to meet our tiny nephew"

She she turned to Edmund, who was still in Benedict's arms, and raised her eyebrows with mock seriousness, causing Eddie to laugh.

Her lips curved upwards, unable to resist his contagious happiness, "You know Uncle Benny, who else have Amma and Papa told you stories about?"

Edmund's eyes lit up at the question, "Granny Violet, Unc-uh Colin, 'ntie Daphie, 'ntie 'Loise, 'ntie Frannie, Unc-uh Gregry andh 'ntie Icinth"

Eloise turned to gape at her oldest brother, "How...Half the ton can't do that!"

"He kept asking for stories", Anthony's voice was laced with laughter and pure joy, "I had no choice but to reveal all our exploits to him"

"Which are not a good influence, might I add", Kate continued, eyes filled with mirth, "Eddie was trying to scale buildings and climb coconut trees when he could barely walk"

Benedict laughed again, happiness lighting up in his chest, growing and growing, "And who came up with the idea of naming him after me?"

Anthony pulled him into a side hug, and Benedict realised how wonderful it was to have his older brother back, "We wanted to name him after someone important to both me and Kate, and while Edmund was decided, Benedict fits that category best"

"I would be offended", Eloise butted in, "But I haven't seen Benedict this happy in a long time, so I'll let it pass", she turned to face Kate, who smiled sheepishly, "Your daughter better be named Eloise"

"Mary Eloise Bridgerton sounds fine", Kate replied, taking her son from Benedict's arms, "Plus we had to name him Benedict, or gods forbid my wonderful son ends up like his strict and serious Papa, hmm chellam?"

Eddie giggled at Anthony's pout, "Andh- andh Amma say nex' Mi-an"

Benedict raised a questioning eyebrow, "Next?"

Now even Anthony's face turned sheepish, "We may be expecting again. Surprise number two!"

Laughter bubbled out of Benedict once more, "Mother will be ecstatic, though we should've seen it coming. It's not like you two can keep your hands off each othe-"

"Benedict", Anthony hissed, the inner Viscount showing, "Not in front of Edmund"

Kate rolled her eyes, responding before Benedict could open his mouth, "He's been like this since Eddie was born. Can't even seduce him in peace"

"Kate, not in front of Edmund", Anthony stressed again, though his frown had been replaced with his characteristic, rakish smirk.

Benedict opened his mouth to cut through the rising sexual tension (he could deal with it, but it was still sickeningly sweet), but once again was interrupted as Eddie tugged on his mother's collar, "Amma, Amma, sthowy, sthowy, sthowy"

Kate sighed, "This is what Anthony was referring to", but then caught sight of an unsuspecting Eloise and grinned.

"Eddie, chellam, which of your aunts likes reading?"

"'ntie 'Loise, 'ntie 'Loise!!", he grinned at getting the answer right, as his Auntie Eloise whipped around to glare at Kate.

"Well, that's Auntie Eloise", Kate pointed to Eloise, setting Edmund down and smirking wider.

Unaware of his mother's plotting, the young boy stumbled towards his intellectual aunt, his eyes glowing at the prospect of more stories, "Read me sthowy, 'ntie 'Loise!"

And, just like that, Eloise's glare melted away into a bright smile, as she shot back to Kate, "If he's a radical by the end of this, not my fault, Amma"

Because kids might not always be her forte, but a nephew with Kate's genes and a love for stories? Eloise could work with that.

And so she took the little boys hand, making sure to take slow steps and led him into the house, telling him how they'd steal some chocolate pudding for themselves then go to the library to read all the stories he wanted.

It was not a surprise that she ended up one of the young boy's favourite aunts.

This left Anthony, Benedict and Kate, standing outside, still basking in the glow of the adorable reunion.

"Thank you", Benedict's voice cracked, the extent of his emotion finally showing, "for-"

"No need, you idiot", Anthony cut in, ruffling Benedict's hair and beaming just like his son (or his son smiled like him), "We named him after who mattered a lot to both of us", he grinned a little wider, "Just name your son after me, and we'll call it even"

Benedict shook his head, "I knew you'd have ulterior motives, I never should've trusted you"

"It's better than putting glue in your shoes"

A beat passed and both brothers broke down laughing, Kate shaking her head with a wistful smile.

"Ok, now that your sappy reunion is over", the Viscountess interrupted their raucous laughter, "Why were you promenading?"

Anthony's brows furrowed, "Right, why were you? It's not a very 'Benedict' thing to do. You should be doodling away in your sketchbook"

That's when it hit Benedict, that for the first time in six months, his thoughts weren't being haunted by his Lady in Silver. It wasn't some grand award, but he had gone ten minutes not thinking about the angel of his dreams, ten minutes simply enjoying his wonderful, sweet, chaotic, annoying family.

So he replied with, "People change"

But Kate, heir to matchmaker Violet Bridgerton's position of Viscountess, smirked with maliciousness he didn't realise she was capable of, "More like certain people change you"

Benedict sighed, his mind once again whisked away to that fateful masquerade ball, "You've caught me, Lady Bridgerton"

And so, Benedict led a gaping Anthony and smug Kate into the house, so he could explain the mysterious masked owner of his heart to them.

But as he did, he realised that even if he never found her, he could survive. Sure he would feel as though part of him was always missing, but with moments this sweet and a family this chaotic and bright, he'd survive.

He had his family. What else did he need?

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

It was no surprise when, two years later, Benedict, husband of the magnificent Sophie Bridgerton nee Baek (who was now the family he needed most) walked into the Bridgerton household announcing the birth of his son, Charles Anthony Bridgerton.

I realise this is very Kate and Anthony centric. It was intentional. I love them. I just love the Bridgerton family being adorable together. and now that the possibility of Kate not returning came up, I HAD to write this scene. Please, please bring back Kate - I need scenes like this in season 4

[caxde]

tangerine | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

summary you are a teacher on Hawkins High, all of your friends have moved on and found succes, however, Eddie has had the best luck, achiving the tittle of Rockstar, and missing you more than he's aware of. (8.2k)

warnings fem!reader, fluff, hurt/comfort, friends! in love, mutual pining, yearning etc, slowburn exes-ish to firends to lovers, idiots in love!!!, eventual smut so minor dni (fingering, p in v), english is not my first language so I apologise if there’s some mistakes, not proof read! 

“G’ mornin Ozz” You mutter as the big brown mutt starts to lick your face, while his tail moves from side to side. He sets its two paws on top of your bed and you lie down quickly enough so his body touches yours instead of the mattress. “M’kay, gimme a minute.” You groan as you slowly sit up, scratching the sleep away from your eyes. As you begin to stretch your body and hear it all pop, you can see as your little companion does the same, asking for pets after he is done. You smile at him as you pet his head absentmindedly. 

You dress yourself lazily, a pair of washed up light blue jeans that have some paint stain on them and an old distressed shirt covered by one of those old jumpers that you seem to have had since forever. 

Ozz looked at you excitedly, sitting down next to the door, waiting for you to go on your morning walk, and enjoy the time that working takes away from him. 

It felt funny, walking these streets again, unbothered now, without having to worry or panic about anything. A quiet life, a still life, one that lets you sleep peacefully at night. The only thing that worried you lately was whether you preferred your senior class to read Jane Austin’s Pride and Prejudice or something more recent, perhaps The Never Ending Story. You debated on it while Ozz kept you company in the early morning, the cold clinging to your face, waking you up at once. 

All of your friends were doing absurdly well. 

You can’t help but think as you head back home and get ready to head to your job.

 Nancy still sends you emails for you to read, filled with her beautiful writing detailing how crazy being a Pulitzer winning journalist is, you smile and treasure them dearly. Robin usually sends you her manuscripts before anyone else, and has begged you to illustrate her new one, and your sketchbook was filled with ideas that you needed to get back to her. Steve finally had decided to study history, and was now teaching it at The Chicago University, everytime he comes back to Hawkins he calls you up so you can chat and grab a beer. 

 But Eddie, he was the luckiest one. And you cried often when you heard that he achieved another milestone, and would try to contact him, not really being able to, usually leaving each other long voicemails. 

However, you kept a picture of the two of you on your desk, the one you took before he disappeared, before everything happened to him and you were able to call him yours. 

Anyhow, you need to focus on what you were doing, having arrived at the doors of your classroom now. 

-

In what felt like a thousand miles away, Eddie layed covered in sweat and buzzing with post-show energy, his ears ringing from the amount of cheers and screams he just got away from. His legs still shaking, not believing that this was now his life, and eager to be able to share it with everyone he cared about. 

And even if he didn’t speak it aloud, you were on the top of that list. 

“I counted fifteen.” Gareth said as he reached him, running out of breath. He looked at him confused, and tried his hardest to put his hair away, trying to cool down. 

“What?” He said, his eyes squinting at him. 

“Bras. They were throwing bras, Eddie!” He laughed as he saw how the eyes of his friend opened as he emphasized with big hand movements. 

“You are a bigger dork now than in highschool.” He teased as he punched him in his arm. 

“Good gig, yeah?” Jeff smiled as he joined them backstage. Eddie clapped him on the back, still processing the fact that they had just played in the actual Merriweather Post Pavilion, they had actually standed where Led Zeppelin had once been, and he smiled quietly to himself, eager to pick up the phone and tell you all about it. He was in Columbia, and had hopes to actually find you awake for once. 

“We’re a long way from The Hideout.” Ben comes out, hanging Eddie a cigarette as he searches for a lighter that he provides back. 

“Fuck yeah we are” Gareth screams excitedly, and they can’t help but to smile and celebrate as they start getting comfortable. 

They know about Eddie’s ritual of leaving you a voicemail after every gig. And they politely leave the room so he can have space to actually call you. 

He fidgets with his rings as he starts hearing the phone beeping, eager to hear your pre-recorded message. But for once, he is surprised by your half asleep voice. 

“Hello?...” Your voice sounds as if you’d have been dozing off, cracking at the lack of interaction. 

“Oh my god you’re actually awake.” He says surprised with a big smile that you can imagine as soon as you realize who it is. 

“Edds?” He melts a bit as your voice softens. 

“Hi darling.” 

“Hi.” His face illuminated as his cheeks started to burn. He has missed your voice, he has even missed being able to hear your silences. “Where are you?” 

“Columbia.” He whispers, as his voice relaxes, feeling how his whole body is met with the familiarity that you provide. 

“You’re close.” He can tell that you’re still on your bed. 

“Yeah, did I wake you up?” He sounds worried for once, and he hears your soft giggle that turns into a sleepless moan. His heart skips a beat. 

“Not really. Was half asleep, Ozz just got off the bed.” 

“He’s keeping you company?” 

“Mmh.” A short moment of silence that let him stare at the ceiling, his head resting on the back of his chair. “He misses you.” 

“He does?” He teases, and you laugh softly at the question. 

“Yeah. Of course he does.” You can hear him laugh now, the question in his mind is evident enough that he doesn’t even need to ask it before you answer. “I miss you too dickhead.” His smile is bigger than before as that makes you both laugh.

“Do too.” 

“Of course you do, I’m the life of the party. You must be bored without me, you know, you just have all the parties, and concerts, and interviews and meeting everyone you’ve wanted.” He laughs as you continue to give him ridiculous examples. 

“It’s true, y’know. I kinnda miss doing a small show like, back in The Hideout.” He confesses and you chuckle a bit. 

“Then just do it, Edds. Y’know, it’s your band, you can choose, right?” He shuts up, knowing that you are incredibly right, and then again, he would have to talk with so many people to even make that a possibility. But he doesn’t want to waste time complaining, he just wants to hear your voice, even better, he didn’t know how much he needed your laugh until he heard it again. 

“I might. You’d come?” 

“Of course, just like I used to.” You both smile at the memory, feeling nostalgic for the times you were only a short car ride away from each other. “Front row and center.” 

“Oh darling, you’d be backstage and close by.” He waits a moment as he can feel you getting comfortable, the rustling of your bedsheets confirming that you’re falling asleep. “Do you wanna hang up?” 

“No, I like the idea of falling asleep with you.” You confess half asleep. His cheeks burn as his smile grows wider. 

-

It was always funny when this happened. And you were now developing a new sense for when it was about to. They would see the photo, turn away from your desk to meet with their friends and then they would start whispering with each other while looking at you every once in a while. At this point you just had to laugh. 

And it always ends the same way. They wait until the end of the class, cleaning up or pretending to do so, and then approach you slowly. So when you clocked two of your senior students whispering amongst them you smiled softly. And waited patiently for the questions. 

“Miss?” You heard as you were pulled away from your own world. 

“Hi Taylor, what can I do for you?” You asked with your usual up-tone voice. 

“Um, this is gonna be a weird ask but…” She started to avoid your eyes, as she searched for her friend to continue. 

“We um, we noticed the photo on your desk, and well we just…” You laughed, a soft calm noise that made her shoulders drop. Tension being released. 

“Yeah, that’s Munson.” You smile. Their eyes open once it hits them that they were right. “He used to go here, y’know?” They nod softly, and look at each other for reassurance. 

“Is it true, what they say?” Taylor asks once again and your eyebrow raises at the question, unknown of what she was referencing. 

“What do they say?” 

“That they’ll play in The Hideout?” 

“Oh.” Your cheeks seem to betray you as they grow pink. You nod at the girls as you stand up from the chair. You circle the table to face them again, reclining yourself on it. “Yeah, well, they used to, I dunno if they’ll play here anytime soon, might have to call Eds and ask.” Their smiles soften as they can see how your eyes brighten at the mention of Eddie.

“Really? You’d call him?” A squeak emanated from an excited Taylor, and you laughed with them as your head looked at the ground. 

“Yeah, he calls me everytime he finishes a gig.” You smile big as you look back at them. “You enjoy his music?” 

“Oh yeah, we love Corroded Coffin, but they always do shows so far away…” Taylor whispers in a soft voice. You can’t wait to tell him about it and embarrass him. 

“Maybe they’ll come around. Who knows.” You smile as you clap your hands. “Now if you excuse me ladies, I need to get some things done and you need to go to maths so…” 

They excuse themselves as they giggle to each other, exiting the room you smile quietly to yourself. If only you had told them about Ozz, they might have fainted, you think to yourself.

-

Hot tea mug by your side, you were determined to tackle the test from this week, actually getting through them and actually correct them. In time, for once. 

But the desk still felt messy, and you needed to clean it all again so you could actually get work done, so you spent the next thirty minutes throwing away a couple of empty chocolate bar wrappers, and some other bits and little trash away, dreading the end of this, as it meant you had no excuse but to actually get it all done. 

However, as you moved your chair so you could sit down, you were blessed with the ringing of your living room phone. thank god, you said to yourself. The caller ID had Eddie’s number, so you picked it up with a smile on your face. 

“Hey Edds” Your cheerful voice seemed to sing his name.

“Actually, it’s Gareth.” The boy's voice surprised you, as you were confused for a bit. 

“Oh. Hey Gareth, what’s up?” 

“Don’t need to sound that disappointed,”His voice teased as it dropped a little bit. “Eddie’s recording so he couldn’t call you.” 

“Oh, okay, well, tell him hello anyway.” 

“Yeah I will.” You nod at that. A second of weird silence between the both of you. 

“So, how come you called?” You decide to go ahead and ask, you had never been fond of small talk anyway. 

“Oh yeah, right.” You heard his lips press against each other as he paused. “So, we’re coming back to The Hideout. In a week, we announced last night, anyway, Eddie wanted to know if we could crash at your house, y’know, my folks sold the house and Wayne’s trailer isn’t that big anyway.” He reasoned with you, trying to convince you, even if he knew you’d say yes regardless. 

“Of course, just call me when you know you’ll come and I’ll fix you up some space.”

“Sweet, great. I’ll tell Eddie to call you regardless.”

You see how Ozz stands up all of a sudden, his head tilted and ears raised, whining as he looks at the door, he sounds as if he is crying with excitement, so your eyes are locked on him as he eyes you fastly, asking for your help. 

“Yeah, see you soon Gareth.” 

“Yeah, bye.” He mumbles as you hear the line go dead. 

“What’s up Ozz?” You ask him, as his head dips down, looking back at the door, tapping it with its paw. 

You move closer to him, and his head shakes in anticipation, as his paws tip-taps the floor excitedly as your hand gets closer to the handel, he practically leaps through the door as soon as you open it, and as your eyes follow him, a grin on your face as you see his tail wagging crazily, as you follow his direction you see him, and your heart drops for a second too long. 

Guitar on his shoulder, and large bag on his side, he stood there. Hair as long and frizzy as ever, and the same smile that he always saved for you, Eddie was there, eyes as bright as you remember, looking up at you before dipping down and focusing his attention on the dog. 

“Hi Ozzy!” His voice higher than usual, sitting down on the floor as the dog licks his face away as he giggles petting him ferociously, letting him get on top of him as he resigns and lets the dog love him back. 

“Eddie.” You whisper, still trying to process it all. Your hands covering your surprised opened mouth as your feet move you down the steps that leave your house.

“Hey sweetheart.” His eyes illuminate as he looks up at you, a sincere smile curing his lips. 

“Gareth said-” Your words had trouble coming out, still finding it hard to believe that he was indeed there, and that you weren’t dreaming. 

“I know. I uh… Told him to call you so I’d know if you were home… wanted to surprise you.” He explains, as he stands up, clapping his hands clean as he takes a step towards you, Ozz coming back to you, his tail still wagging. 

“How did you- Why- I don’t…” 

“I missed you.” He gleams as his words come out of his mouth. “Just that.” He finishes, standing in front of you, close enough that your feet would touch if you took a step further. “Well, and Ozzy.” he added, tilting his head slightly as his smile brightened. 

“I still think Bowie suits him best.” 

“You didn’t like Mr.Crowley.” He reminds you as he points his finger, the tip of it touching the corner of your mouth. 

“It felt like he had to be the teacher.” You laugh as your head looks at the ground, nervous from his touch, your heart stops for a moment when you hear his voice chuckling. 

“Well, glad you took care of my dog.”

“Mmmh, mine now.” 

He smiles fondly at you, before closing the distance and hugging you closely. Your bodies finally met, your arms tangled behind his neck, his hands hanging behind your waist, his arms pulling you closer. An unconscious smile appears on your lips as you smell him again, his hair tickling your nose, sandalwood, cigarette smoke and something you can’t quite tell. His thumb stroking the small part of your skin that gets exposed when your arms rise up to hold him. He leaves a small kiss on the crown of your head, resting his head there for a second too long. 

-

“Edds, I’m leaving!” You screamed as you grabbed your old jacket from the hanger by the door. 

“M’kay.” He yawned as he peered down the staircase, sleep still present in his eyes. 

“Guest mattress comfy?” You tease him lightly as you can see his eyes hiding behind his palms, his hair twisted and knotted from having just woken up. You didn’t dare look down, his chest is exposed, his legs covered by old gym wear that he had packed. 

“M’no” He mumbled as his eyes finally opened enough to look at you, his voice cracking as he spoke his first words of the day, deep and short, not having any energy to do or say anything else. 

“Oh, poor Edds.” you teased him a bit more, showing him your tongue as you handed him a mug full of coffee. “There’s more on the pot.” 

“Thanks.” He whispered before taking a sip, head shaking as he tried to wake up. 

“Ozz will beg you to walk him, his leash is hanging by the coats.” 

“Got it.” He nodded at the brown dog, his tail already wagging. “When’re you coming back?” 

“Uh… Should be here around five, why?” 

“Dunno, might go and say hi to Wayne.” You nodded, feeling a bit dumb to not have thought that maybe he preferred to be with his actual family, rather than with you. His eyes opened as he seemed to clock that thought passing behind your eyes. “I mean, he did pick me up from the airport yesterday, and everything but… Dunno, wanted to stay with you.” He quickly reassured you, a lazy smile on his face made you release the air that you had been holding. 

He walked with you to the front door, closing it behind you after he had whispered a sleepy goodbye to you. 

He spent the majority of his morning doing absolutely nothing. Letting himself enjoy the non-rush he now had. The small holiday he had given to himself. Of course, he couldn’t help himself from looking around, but really, it’s not his fault. He always had that habit of looking at other people's things. He liked to imagine what you looked like while you were correcting or grading papers, and he giggled when he saw your little tower of -according to the post-it - mandatory read i don’t enjoy, though his smile deepened when he saw the one next to it books i’ll make mandatory even if it ends me. Suddenly, he was back in high school, and you were sat on his lunch table, as his party babbled away about the campaign, while you laid your head on his shoulder, your eyes focused deep with the words of Jane Austen, Sylvia Plath, Isabell Allende it didn’t matter, he always remembered you like that, curled up with a book between your hands. 

He always liked when you had let him lay on your thighs, and hearing you read outloud, while one of your fingers traced around his face, not really thinking about it. 

He missed stupid small moments like that. 

But then again, nothing had made his heart skip a beat as fast as when he saw the copy he had let you borrow of The Hobbit, on that tower, the pages were now a different shade, and they still had all of his notes he had written on the pages margins. 

He thought about you, and those silly intimate moments while he played on his guitar later that morning. Ozzy curled up beside him, while he tried to remember the melody of that Led Zeppelin’s song you had always loved. Especially when he sang it to you, he seemed to recall. 

But as these moments of calmness or rather, stillness go, it was interrupted, by your phone this time. 

Eddie debated on whether or not to pick it up, but he decided he might as well. 

“Um, hello?” 

“Eddie? Thank god, can you check something for me?” Your voice came through the speaker, agitated and ever so slightly out of breath. 

“Uh, yeah sure. You okay?” 

“Yeah, yeah fine. Can you just look if I left my wallet and a little container on the kitchen counter?” You begged, as you rushed through your words. 

“Yeah hold on.” You could hear his steps as he went to check it. When he saw the two objects you described he grabbed them and slowly walked over to the phone, resting his weight against the wall, lazily. 

“Yeah, they’re here.” 

“Fuu-dge.” You caught yourself before cursing, which only made him laugh. 

“Fudge?” 

“I can’t curse while I’m working.” You remind him, sounding frustrated now. 

“Oh, right. Forgot.” 

“Well, okay. I’ll just eat when I get home then.” You muttered as you exhaled air, your words reaching his ears a little muffled because of that. 

“Can’t they give you a plate or something?” He tried to reason with you, realizing that the container held your lunch. 

“Nah, that will only give Lora a headache.” You scoffed.

“Well, I could-” 

“Forget it Edds, I’ll see you in a few hours, I need to go.” You hanged up, and an idea popped into his head, as a smile appeared on his lips. 

-

It had been a brief walk, thirty minutes flew by as he walked by the streets he used to dream about escaping, smiling proudly at the fact that he did. Though now, standing behind the green door that led to your classroom, he had become that shy Eddie that he was when he studied in those halls. 

And he had become enamored by how you stood, smiling as you spoke through your lesson. 

However, you hadn’t seen him, and where still yapping about the assignment, having divided your senior group into small teams so they could start working, when all of a sudden, you saw how their eyes shifted away from you, straight to the door, usually you would dismiss that, knowing that with five minutes left for lunch break, they usually daydreamed about what they would eat, or what they would do, but normally, they look at the window to do that, but what really made your head look into that direction was the gasps that were emanating from your students, and the excited looks they were sharing. Once you looked over, and saw a smiling Eddie holding the plastic bag high, your eyes opened in shock, as you had definitely lost your train of thought. 

“I… I’m sorry class… Can you give me a minute?” You said through your teeth, your eyes squinting as you tried not to lose your cool, knowing that if Principal Higgins saw him there you would never hear the last of it. So you walked -almost ran- to the door, closing it fast behind you. “Edds… What are you doing here?” 

“I brought you your lunch!” He exclaimed happily, his eyes looking down at you, as his lips curved upwards, the plastic bag swinging from his hand. 

“And that’s really sweet but you shouldn’t have.” 

“Well, when you don’t eat you get dizzy, and then you get nauseous, and finally, you’re… bitchy… So, take your lunch and eat.” He explains to you, as he points every reason with his fingers, tapping them on your chest. 

“Idiot.” You muttered as you flushed, enough for him to notice, even when you try to look at the ground in an attempt to hide it. 

“Yeah, well, you call me that a lot.” He chuckled as he finished. “Besides, you’ve only got five minutes left.”

“Three now.” 

“Yeah, so I can wait for you and keep you company.” He wasn’t teasing, you could tell he was being sincere. 

“Shit, look-”

“Language.” Now he was teasing, a smile appearing in both of your faces. 

“Fuck off…” You giggled as you looked at the ground for a bit, messing with your hair as you looked back at him. “‘Kay, come in, but… They’ll have- they’re gonna freak out.” 

You were right, as soon as he set foot into your classroom a choir of excited squeals and “oh my god” could be heard, and you tried not to laugh, but it was bound to happen. He was as recognizable as ever, even with his hair tied up in a lazy pointali that was now coming undone, and a light faded out shirt, his tattoos and posture betrayed him. 

“Uh, hi.” He muttered as soon as he could, shy once again at the undivided attention that he had gathered.

“So, class… Can we keep this a secret?” You tried to bargain, as they tried hard not to lose it, the majority of them covering their mouths or rubbing their eyes. 

“What the fuck?” You could hear one of your older students say as he couldn’t stay still on his chair. 

“I think she doesn’t like that kind of language in the class… um…” 

“Trevor!” 

“Trevor, yeah, I’m Eddie.” He said cheerfully, as they all nodded, your face hidden behind your hand, forehead resting on the palm of it. You hided a giggle while he sat down on your chair. 

-

“You’re an idiot.” You said as you were finally alone in your classroom. Sitting down, faceing him, his mouth half open as he was starting to eat a sandwich he had made for him. 

“Yeah, you call me that a lot.” He agreed, playing with the teasing that you had started, even if he knew, deep down, that you were glad he did that, the colours on your cheek betraying you once again. 

“Well… You are.” You smile down, as you reach into your bag. A little container with Joyce’s leftovers in it, and your stomach grumbled as you saw them. “Thank you.” You whispered, a shy look in your eyes as they made brief contact with him. He nodded as he took a bite. 

“Don’t mention it.” He would never say it aloud, but he would do anything you’d ask him to. Even if that meant sitting in silence, in an empty classroom that smells of dust and cheap deodorant. He couldn’t help his lips from smiling at you, enjoying the calmness of it all. Seeing you smile at nothing, enjoying the fact that he could see your hair get tangled as your head shakes every time you had a good bite of food on your mouth.  

“Idiot…” You muttered again. 

“You’ve already called me that, sweetheart.” He remarks, winking at you. 

You giggle as you take out your hand from the small bag, the small fruit on your hand, moving it as if it was a trophy you had just won.

“A tangerine?” You teased him, though, truth be told, the tension between the two of you could be felt from across the hall, and it made it all look as if you couldn’t help but smile, and joke and fantasie about what you would like to do to say thank you. 

“Yeah, well… You’ve got a sweet tooth…” He was the one blushing now, having lost himself for a second too long on your lips. His hand touched yours as he grabbed the small fruit from your soft hands, peeling it from you. “You don’t need to stink up your hands.” 

“Oh, I stink?” You joked. 

“Oh yeah, no wonder it has to smell of deodorant in here.” 

You shook your head as you laughed with him, your eyes focusing on his dimples. You really had missed him. 

-

If you were being sincere with yourself, you had expected loud noise, maybe a broken glass or two, however, the stillness and comfort of the moment was a pleasant surprise.

There was nothing special about it, not really. Gareth laid on the floor, staring at the ceiling while he tapped away with his fingers, tum-tuming away at everyhting he came in contact with, legs, floor or table, didn’t matter. Ben had his head resting on it, his back on the leg of the wooden table that you got second hand in a yard sale, his fingers moving as he was playing bass. Jeff sat by himself, on Joyce’s old recliner playing softly on his beat up guitar. However, Eddie was next to you, his arm laid on your shoulders, pulling you closer, making you bury your head on his chest, while he played with your hair, not really thinking about it, he just did it because it felt natural. It felt like what was supposed to be done, it felt like old times, when you would fall asleep next to him and nothing mattered. Though, to be fair, you weren’t exempt from guilt. Your arm was across his chest, hugging him in return, and snuggling him as your head moved closer to him, his chin resting on the top of your head now, your fingers tracing a nonsense pattern across his skin. 

It was bliss. It was peaceful. 

So obviously, someone had to talk. 

“I’m nervous for tomorrow.” Eddie whispered, his fingers tangling in your hair even further. A soft laughter filled the room as everyone heard him. 

“You’ve literally just played Merriweather. You’ve stood where Led stood… The Hideout’s nothing.” You muttered, eyes looking up at him, as he smiled down at you, your cheeks flushing as you made eye contact. 

“Yeah, but we didn’t know anyone…” Gareth said as he stood up.

“And everyone will be there.” Jeff finished, with a giggle from everyone. 

“You’ll be there?” Eddie asked, a soft whisper on you ear, making your skin tingle where his breath graced your skin. 

“Front and center.” You murmured back, your head nodding as you look at him. His eyes lighting up. 

“No, backstage and close by.” He assured you. His lips kissing your forehead, forgetting for a second that you’re not alone. That you’re not together. 

“You know, I like that you two-” Ben started, stopping as soon as he realized that everybody was looking at him, Gareth shaking his head no. “What?” 

“They’re not…” Gareth tried to say, to explain something that neither of you were sure to know how to actually explain. 

“I think it’s time for me to go to bed.” You smile apologetically, as you push Eddie’s arm away from you, standing up, not hearing anything that they were saying any longer.

Logically, you knew you had no right to be upset. Nothing that they had said was a lie, but maybe what hurt more was that everything was true, and rather you like it or not, you were in love once again with him, how could you not. It was inevitable. You had said goodbye when he left, you had stayed in contact, and he appeared out of the blue in front of your house. 

He had taken care of you without you asking him to. He had been there for you countless times. Fuck, he had even let you take care of the dog. 

It all went through your head at speed light, so you paced around your bedroom, walls closing in on you. You were silently crying now, tears falling down. 

“Stop crying. Stop crying. Stop crying.” You kept saying to yourself, in an attempt to calm you down, as you sat down on the mattress. 

The way your house had been constructed, somehow made that the street lights didn’t shine through your window at night, so when you stared at it, only darkness could be seen. That and Eddie standing on your doorway, his head looking at the ground, hand anxiously covering his mouth. As soon as he realised that you caught him he turned around, trying to leave. 

“Don’t…” Your voice broke as you spoke. You turned your head to look at him, hand wiping away a tear. “Stay?” 

“Yeah.” He didn’t hesitate, not even for a second, before you even blinked he was already sitting beside you. “Why are you…?”

“It’s silly.” 

“Don’t think so.” 

“We’ve never talked about it.” You almost spat out the words, as if they were burning. “So we don’t have to now…” You try to soften your tone with a smile, but it doesn’t seem to work. 

“You’re crying.” He stated, his eyebrows raising in concern, as he climbed the bed, carefully approaching you. “So you obviously need to talk about it.” 

“I don’t.” Your voice was getting irritated now, frustrated might be a better way to describe it. 

“Well, then you’re lying.” His voice had become dry, though hesitant or nostalgic seemed like good words to describe it too. 

“Then I guess I’m a liar.” You mocked his tone, getting angry now.

Not really knowing why. 

Not really caring for it. 

He let you in silence, even when you seemed mad at him, he knew what and when you needed what you needed. So he stayed beside you, worried that he had done something so unforgivable that had made you stop trusting him. His leg grew restless, anxiously waiting for you to say something, anything, if he opened his mouth in this instance he’d beg you to do so, he’d crawl and fall to his knees if that meant that you’d say something. 

  And you desperately wanted to. You wanted to tell him everything, you wanted to scream, and shout and tell him that the only thing you want, or need is for him to stay close to you. 

“If you don’t want me here…” He muttered, under his breath. 

You pursed your lips, hurt that he might think something as ridiculous as that. You nodded slowly, turning your head at him, finally looking at his eyes. His were darkened by the lack of light on the room, however his eyes still shone when he made contact with yours, even if your eyes were red and puffy from having cried. 

“It’s not that…” You add as you shake your head from side to side. 

“Then why are you crying?” 

“Because they’re right. Because we’re nothing. Because you and everyone else left, and I stayed here, and… I missed you, every morning I woke up and you weren’t there, I’d roll to the other side of the bed and it would just be empty and cold… I- Eddie…” Your voice kept breaking as you started to talk. 

“You told me to leave…” Faint words escaping him. 

“Of course I told you to leave, you had to leave. You had an amazing opportunity and you needed to take it, I couldn’t be the reason for you- You would’ve resented me for the rest of your life- You…” You were shaking again, everything coming out of you, rapidly. 

“I could never- I would never I… I left, yes, but that doesn’t mean I ever stopped caring for you or–” His hand grabbed yours, in an attempt to ground you, to stop you from spiriling, and despite your intention, it worked, he had your full attention once again. 

“Or what?” 

“Love you.” He stated. His eyes looking for yours, truth in them. 

“What do you mean Eddie?” You were exhausted now. Confused by his words, and having trouble understanding everything he said. 

“I mean, that even if I left, I never stopped thinking about you, caring for you, or loving you. How could I?” A soft laugh escaped your lips when you registreed what he was actually saying, bitting the inside of your cheek as you looked him back, your fingers intertwined now. 

“You’ve never said anything.” 

“I know…” 

“I thought I was bothering you.” 

“You could never do that. Never.” 

After that, everything happened kind of fast, even if every touch seemed to last a lifetime. His hands searched for your waist, pulling you in, falling on the mattress, both of your bodies laying down as he pulled you near. What started as a close hug, was escalating fast. 

First, his head rested so close on your pillow, that your breath was mixing into his, so much so you could feel him smiling even if you had your eyes closed. Enjoying the way his fingers traced patterns onto your skin, and losing your breath for just a second when his nose kissed yours, when he moved it upwards, you knew that his lips were smiling, slightly open. You couldn’t help yourself. So it was no surprise when you kissed him. 

A shy kiss, a i missed you kiss, a i can’t believe you’re here kiss, a please don’t leave kiss. What was surprising is the way his body pressed onto yours, how his weight shifted so he could be even closer, how his mouth opened to find your tongue, how it felt the exact same it had years ago, and still, your heart was rapidly beating with excitement, of having him like that once again. 

Your thumb had set itself on his jaw, stroking it softly, focused on the small bumps that his skin had, beard growing under it. However, your other hand was pushing his wild hair behind his ear, a softness on your touch that you didn’t quite know you had. 

Meanwhile, Eddie had one of his hands on your waist, your skin exposed since your shirt was stuck under your body, the other one was busily tangled in your hair, on the back of your neck. 

You needed no words, just looking at each other was enough. 

He touched you as soon as your pants hit the floor. Hearing you moan, with your head tilted back, exposing your neck only drove him crazier, making the pressure he felt in his boxers only get worse, in the best way possible. He kissed you everywhere. But he always had a thing for your neck, and how he had always loved to bite it as you where twisting under his touch, your own hand grabbing his, pushing his fingers even deeper into you, making him giggle as he did what you wanted him to do, before shutting you up with another wet neddy kiss. He only stopped kissing you and your body when he wanted to look at your face. Your cheeks, as pink as ever, you’re breathing fast and you’re skin flushed. When you opened your eyes, you nodded, and he did too. 

He took your top away. 

You struggled to take his shirt off, while he unbuckled his jeans. 

To say that his skin was burning to your touch would be an understatement. He groaned and smiled everytime one of your nails ran through his back, you were sure he would have scratches tomorrow morning, but it didn’t matter. He hadn’t cared about the hickeys he was leaving on your skin. He kissed it all over again, leaving wet spots over it, and he loved how your body tingles every time his lips touched a new spot. 

Your hand travelled to the hem of his underwear, pushing it down slowly, smiling when you feel him doing the same, his eyes looking at you with permission, his body on top of yours, you smiled kindly, your free hand gracing his cheek, you nodded, as he left a short kiss on your lips, before pushing in to you. As you moaned feeling him in, he was going slow, adjusting your body to him, as your legs wrapped around him, and your hands grabbed his back, you both looked into each others eyes, moonlight shining across your faces, enough light to know that you both were incredibly enamoured by each other. He started going faster, as he started to moan once your nails were once again buried in his skin, his hands touching every inch of your body he could. It is not that it felt good, great or divine, it’s that it felt right, it felt as if he was your home. Like being connected on a physical level only made justice to the way you felt, like you never wanted it to stop, like you could die happily in his arms. Pressed against the mattress, only hearing the noises you were both making, trying to the best of your ability to keep the noise between the two of you, begging not to be heard by anyone downstairs. You knew you were close, and so was him. It was even more evident when he stopped to catch his breath, pulling out of you, and needing his touch you stood up, meeting his face, kissing him senseless, as his fingers got lost on the small of your back, feeling his cock raising even more, your pussy dripping down, aching to be filled with him again. He looked at you once again, his hands now squeezing your ass, you nodded as you turned around. You were now laying your face on the mattress, your tits pressed against it, as you raised your ass as high as you could, and moaning hard and fast as you felt him slip into your pussy with ease. Fingers burning deep into your waist, pushing you hard and fast, a fast rhythm that he kept, and you were moving just as hard. It felt like true bliss. 

When you felt him come, your legs had been shaking for a while already, it was all aching with pleasure, with need. 

However, he didn’t just plummet to the bed, he kissed your back, your shoulder, and everything he felt he could as he pulled you close to him. Cuddling you from behind, your legs tangled as you both felt at ease, at peace. Feeling how tired you were, your eyes shutting down as you can quite believe what had just happened. 

During the night, if and when you woke up, and opened your eyes, you were met with his calm expression next to yours. When you moved away he pulled you in closer, and if you groaned in your sleep he would kiss your skin, wherever his lips could find. It hadn’t been the sex, but this, this made you feel safe and at home. 

-

It looked exactly as you’d remembered. 

Low lights, cigarette smoke, and spilled beer made it seemed as if time had not moved. Even though Eddie seemed to think differently. He was incredibly nervous, fidgeting with his rings behind the stage door, the screams that emanate from the other side making him even more nervous, because if he was honest with himself, he was used to play for an empty Hideout, not a sold out, filled to the brim, people pressed against each other streaming his name. 

He was glad you were there. 

He had even been more happy to wake up beside you. And laugh about last night, and talk it out, while you both got ready. 

As anxious as he was, he only needed to look over at you to calm down.

He did now, and he smiled when he saw you chatting away with Steve, who decided to pop in for the occasion. 

“So… Did a mosquito bite you?” He told you, as he teased pressing a finger to one of Eddie’s hickeys on your chest. 

“Fuck off Harrington.” You laughed back, as you readjusted your top, in an attempt to cover it. 

“I missed you insulting me.” He said, his voice cheerful and playful. Taking a sip from his bottle. “Can’t quite believe that Munson’s made it.” 

“So have you.” You tell him, smiling up at him, as he tries to dismiss you with a vague movement with his head. “Oh come on, prestiged Uni professor Harrington!” You teased him now, punching his arm. 

“You’re embellishing it.” He pointed out, clanking your bottles as he took another sip, one that you followed, laughing with someone you missed so dearly.

“Well, I’m the one teaching the language. So… thank you.” You giggled at him covering his face with his hand, embarrassment and glee on his gesture. 

“Yeah well… He’s really made it though.” He said, shifting his body to look over at him, and you followed him once again. 

“Yeah… He deserves it more than anyone.” You added, making it a bit obvious that your feelings were rising again. Your heart missed a beat when he looked over at you and smiled. 

“And you…” 

“Save it Steve.” You didn’t need to look at him to know the questioning look he had on his face. 

“But you…”

“Yes. I still do.”

“Does he?” 

“I think so.” 

After that you stayed in silence as beers clanged, amps were connected and guitars were tried. Waiting for it all to start. 

But Eddie needs a moment with you. And once again, not a word escapes from his lips, he just walks over to you, black button shirt opened, his chest exposed making you short of breath for a second. His eyes look down for a second, grabbing your hand, looking carefully at the way your hands seem to fit perfectly together, caressing the back of yours with his thumb, he looks back at you, nodding to a place where there’s no one. And when you squint your eyes he starts heading that way. 

Steve’s left speechless as he sees the two of you, and he’s convinced at this moment, he has never seen such pure connection between two people. 

However, Eddie doesn’t speak when it’s only the both of you. He just lets air come out of his mouth, shivering a bit as he does so. Both of his hands grabbing yours, resting his forehead against yours. Enjoying the calmness of the moment. The stillness. The comfortableness of it all. 

You nuzzled your nose against his, feeling how your lips curl upwards as you do so, even more when you hear him laughing softly. He takes a step closer, closing the gap between the both of you with an even softer kiss that he left on your lips. 

“Everything will go great.” Your faint voice made him scoot closer, his ear next to your mouth, instinctively, you wrap your arms behind his neck, he wraps his on the small of your back. 

“Could we just…” You had never heard him with such a soft tone of voice. 

“We can’t. You’ve gotta go play.” You teased as you stepped back, getting lost once again on his chocolate like eyes. 

“I don’t wanna be far away from you again.” He muttered, barely above a whisper. “Will you come with me? Please?” 

“Moon…” You whispered, your thumb gracing his cheek, he let his face rest on the palm of your hand. Head tilted down to look better at you, his eyes lost into yours as he bites his lower lip. He had always loved that ridiculous pet name. “Well talk about it, okay?” You smiled as you left a kiss on his bare chest. “Now, go out there and play.” 

He did just that. Not before stealing a few more kisses, and not before taking you all in. Your teachers clothes had long been forgotten, and you looked truly angelic as you rested against the wall, a somehow sheer top layed on top of your chest, with long worn out jeans that seemed to be a minute away from breaking, with Eddie’s old leather jacket. He couldn’t take his eyes away from you until the roar from the public made him snap into place. 

He looked truly divine. The lights from stage made him glow, his movements seemed effortless, and his voice had never sounded that clear. 

He was following the setlist, everything was going exactly to plan, expect, in one of those pauses in between songs, where he would normally talk to the audience and make them laugh and connect with the band, he was just staring at you, unaware that his hands had started to play the old melody that you had always hummed when you were together. As soon as you heard it, memories, feelings and tears came out. Steve’s hand on your shoulder as he watched closely. 

“He’s mad about you.” He told you, knowing that he won’t get a response, he lets you rest his weight on his body as you cry, excited to hear him sing your song. 

“I um- hi.” He told the audience that cheered in return. “We don’t really play songs that are not ours anymore, but that’s like, all we did when we used to come here and…” A quick glance on your direction before he could continue, as you nodded, excited for him. “Well, there’s this someone, who… She’s incredibly special and this is her favourite one so, you’ll have to hear it. 

Tangerine by Led Zeppelin could be heard, and you had never smiled as big as you were now. 

Whispering the lyrics in between tears as you looked closely at him. He vaguely and not discreetly at all pointed and looked at you as he sang  “Tangerine, Tangerine, living reflection from a dream/I was her love, she was my queen, and now a thousand years between.”

As the final notes could be heard, and in the heat of the moment, Eddie sneaked backstage, to steal a short kiss, both of your lips smiling as you touched. Foreheads pressed against each other as you both had your eyes closed. He didn’t need to say anything else, the question and the answer was already clear. 

That moment was enough. But just in case you kissed him again, your hands grabbing either side of his face, happy tears falling down on both of your eyes. A declaration being shared. 

It said of course I’ll stay. of course I’ll come with you. I’m never leaving again. I’ll never leave you again. 

And you never did. 

-

if you liked it, and i really hope you did, reblog and/or leave your opinion, i swear it makes a differance <33

'

[waddlewaddlewaddlewaddle]

Over my head (Miguel ‘o’ Hara x Reader)

Chapter 4

Wc:1.9k

Tw: mentions of blood

Themes: ✎slow burn ( I think)

Mutual pining

✎office romance (¿)

Hidden romance

✎Smut available as story progresses.

Dom Miguel x sub/bratty reader

✎Stubborn, Ill tempered Miguel.

✎ Angelic reader .

It girl reader.

✎I try to be as accurate as possible.

English is not my first language so bare with me.

✎badass stoic x sweet empath.

Og spanish speaker so be prepared for steamy dialogue :3

Here’s the master list for previous or future chapters.

⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩🕸

-"Miguel!"- Your body couldn't help but call out his name after seeing such a scene.

A crimson gaze met yours , his face froze as if he'd been caught red handed.

-"Greetings."-He replied as he could since blood was cascading over the corner of his mouth.-"If you excuse me i'll be on my way."- Miguel turned his back and tried to walk away before your voice interrupted him.

-"Are you crazy?! you're losing a stupid amount of blood, what even happened to you?

-"Well i've clearly been better"-He noted in a sarcastic tone.-"But if you must know ive just been flung around by some villains, i could've left less beaten up but i didn't want to interrupt the party they organized for you.”

-"Miguel that's ridiculous , just look at you.-You pressed an open gash on his neck to which he quickly winced to.-"If you needed assistance you should've just called."

In a moment lyla appeared and sat on his shoulder.

-"That's what i told him, we should let him suffer for being so hard headed.”-Lyla joked.

Miguel knotted his eyebrows and shooed her of his shoulders trying to maintain the last string sanity that allowed him to keep a cordial conversation while in extreme pain.

-"come with me, let me tend to your injuries"

-"Thanks for the offered but i can stand a punch, go back to the party now."

you couldn't help but roll your eyes incredulous of this mans priorities.

-"You're literally about to collapse and all you care about is a stupid party?!"-You groaned out at him in hopes that he gets the severity of the matter at hand.

-"Its not just a party."-He expressed with seriousness.-"I haven't seen my spider people that happy in a while, they're joyful to have you here and seem to trust you already. you wouldnt understand but they need that morale to withstand the burden of their responsibilities.So please go back and keep them company ; i can handle myself."

-"What about you?" You asked gleeful after hearing the first kind words Miguel has said to you.

-"What about me?"

-"How do you feel about having me here?"

Miguel looked back at lyla for any indication on how he should respond but she just raised her shoulders at him.

-"Well i certainly feel ... happy?"-He responded with awkwardness so you knew he was lying, catching up onto your disapproving gaze he finally answered with the truth.-With confidence i can say i'm relieved by having you here.

As you grinned in satisfaction with his answer you remembered he was on the brink of falling over, which by the way is very unprofessional on your behalf, you couldn't help it , you found yourself lost in conversation. To convince Miguel to allow to get himself treated you asked dad bod peter to send the spiders some beer and it was as if you never left.

🕸 ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩🕸

With some struggle you managed to get Miguel to go to the infirmary, you indicated him to sit down on stool near your desk.

His big figure almost didn't fit on the stool, his eyes followed you around the room as you woke up your bots.

-“You've fixed this place up nicely.”-He commented lookin at the fresh tulips on the desk while the room lit up with painting prints and the floor gleamed with beautiful carpets.

-“Thank you, I never had the chance to decorate an infirmary so I wanted to put things that could make my patients feel happy or at ease.”-You said looking at your hologram table while viewing his medical chart to see any allergies or pre existing conditions. - Nino can you run a CT scan and an MRI , Kiko be a dear and takes his vitals and oxygen saturation levels while I go grab some tools to clean his face right up.

While you went to the back room for sanitizing materials lyla looked at him funny seeing him in his little stool waiting to be treated.

-“I should ask her to bring a tweezer to see if maybe she’ll do you a favor and clean up those bushy eyebrows of yours.”-Said the artificial intelligence while he sits up straight in his chair clearly wishing he wasn’t in such a vulnerable position.

-“If you don’t close that pixel sized mouth of yours I’m gonna ask spider byte to make you bald.”- He retorted with a straight face to which lyla just responded by sticking up her middle finger and vanishing in the air.

Soon you walked back into the room with your lab coat and your hair tied up in a bun while holding some materials.

-“Are you ready for this , big boy? It’s gonna sting a bit so tell me if you need me to slow down.”- You said as you put on your latex gloves.-“My bots are gonna take a while to take your tests so after I finish cleaning you up they’ll tell me what’s up with you.”

-“I already told you I’m fine Y/n.”- Miguel hasn’t stepped in an infirmary in a long time , so he feels very out of place.

-“We’ll see about that, I’d sit down to treat you but all id see is your chest.”-You giggled.-“Not that I’m complaining though!” -You watched as Miguel raised and eyebrow and you could swear you saw the corner of his mouth go up.-“Wow peter was right, you really don’t have a sense of humor.”

-“I Do have a sense of humor is just that -ow!”-Miguel jumped as he felt the sting of the cotton swab cleaning his cheek

-“I’m sorry , I’m sorry I’ll be more gentle.”- You brought your face closer to his while being more gentle with the swab.

Miguel suddenly felt heat rushing to his cheeks he didn’t know if it was because your face was just mere inches from his or because when you noticed you were hurting him you truly cared for his comfort and started to be more gentle.

All of a sudden one of your bots started ringing like and alarm.

-“WARNING HEART RATE ELEVATED TO 113 BPM.”- Said kiko while spinning ad flashing red lights.

- “That’s strange.” -You comment as you quickly bandage his face up so you can investigate the reason of his quick heart rate.

-“That machine must be broken.”- Said Miguel a little embarrassed while hunching up his shoulders ,you just gave him an unconvinced glare.

-“Nino can you give me the results of the scan please.”

-“CT and MRI indicate ribs number 6 and 7 are fractured, MRI reveals no damage done to blood vessels or lungs.”- Said Nino unconcerned.

Your jaw dropped to the floor while you looked over at the man that treating broken ribs like a stubbed toe.

-“Miguel why didn’t you tell me you had broken ribs!”- You yelled out in shock someone could sit still with broken ribs.

-“I didn’t know, why are you mad at me? I’m the one with broken ribs.”- He noted while arching a brow.

-“Are you dumb?! You can puncture your lungs and god forbid provoke some interior hemorrhage. Take your shirt off right now!”

Miguel was about to scold you for calling him dumb but was quickly fluttered by you requesting him to take his shirt off.

-“What?”- He replied dumbfounded

-“Take your shirt off so I can examine you , quickly.”

“Oh maybe you are dumb Miguel ” he thought to himself for thinking about other things when you asked him to take his shirt off , he quickly pressed some buttons on his watch and in a few seconds his bare torso was revealed to you. You couldn’t help but blush as you saw such a shredded torso with beautiful sculpted shoulders, you knew he was your boss but goddam this man never skips arm day. You quickly shake your head trying to get rid of those teenage girl like thoughts and start to press on the bruised skin on top of his ribs to examine the situation.

-“Does it hurt much?”

-“Nope.”

-“What about now?” You say as you apply some pressure on the affected area.

-“Auugh.”- He groaned as he winced.-“That trick of yours is getting old.”

Miguel glanced over at your direction noticing you had a quite worried face , as soon as you noticed his stare you quickly gave him a fake smile. -“I think it’s quite funny, wait here I’ll get some pain medication and a rib splint.”

You bolted to the storage room and back and started to load the syringe.

-“I can assure you this won’t hurt much , I have the gentlest hands in the business you know?”-You bragged while squatting while injecting the fluid into the tender spot in his ribs.- “If you feel any type of discomfort please let me know Miguel , you shouldn’t hide and injury like this I’m glad I caught you sneaking off. People depend on you , the spider society needs you in the best condition you can be. Even so regardless of who you are you should always take care of yourself.”

Miguel grinned taking advantage of the fact that your sight was straight on his ribs, he was truly moved by your words , they seemed sincere in his ears, he usually didn’t trust people this rapidly but to him you yelled out trustworthiness. He also didn’t want to admit that your proximity and care was making him feel some kind of way he quickly wanted to bury those thoughts in the back of his head. But there was a question pestering him so he gave into his desires and grabbed you by the wrist so he would get your attention.

You quickly looked up at him , your doe eyes looking up at him with innocent confusion made his his throat stiffen up.

-“Why do you care so much about me, after all we only met yesterday.” He questioned getting lost in your gaze.

-“You seem like a good person , you also seem like a dutiful man plus you really care about your workers . You seem to have the courage other people seem to lack. In summary for the moment you’re on my good side , let’s hope you stay that way buddy. But even if you weren’t a good person in my perception, you’re still a person who’s hurt and needs help , that’s enough for me to give my all in treating them.”- You smiled at him hoping your answer was good enough for him while returning to inject the fluid in various points of his ribs.

Miguel felt content with your answer which allowed him to be more relaxed in your presence after all he felt uncomfortable being seen so vulnerable , he was used to acting the part of the tough one.

-“Don’t call me buddy. I am your boss.”- He joked trying to switch the mood.

-“My bad Mr ‘o’ Hara. I’ll put on the brace splint now. ” You chimed as you stood between his right leg and leaned down to apply the splint trying to end this procedure as soon as possible so you could get out of this compromising position.

As you were almost done applying the splint you and Miguel heard a drunk voice come closer while the door handle moved , both of your eyes met in fear that someone would see you and misinterpret the situation.

-“y/n!!!! Are you here???? I’m coming innnnnnnn……”

A/n: I’m sorry for the delay I’ve been busy with work 😭 but I’m really happy with the way this chapter turned out.

[britcision]

(Oh boy I went to a School so uh we had a lot)

- the time a guy on my bus punched out the principal directly next to the bus and then hopped on. They called the cops the next day to see if he showed up.

He did. They suspended him for six months. The principal got a restraining order which made the rest of the school year… interesting for them

The principal did not return the next year

- one year our fun math teacher bet his grade 12 class that the teachers would win the staff vs student hockey game in September

The closer we got to game time (possibly January idk) the more all of the teachers started wearing their jerseys, broke into each others’ classes for planning sessions (completely separate from their normal invading each others’ classes to sell each other weed)

They had pump up music in the halls between classes, all the teachers wore their hockey jerseys on completely uncoordinated days so they didn’t even wear them all at once

Pretty sure the fun math teacher wore Braveheart style face paint the day before but since uh it is the staff vs the students of the same school they didn’t exactly have team colours

Preeeetty sure he promised to let them shave his head at the end of school assembly if the students won, but I did not exactly have an attendance record so I didn’t go to that

(About 80% sure they did it anyway although I never found out who won the game, I also did not attend that)

Next year? Completely back down to previous levels of mild interest from all involved. May/may not be related to the aforementioned change in principals

- the new principal we got was A Whole Fucking Thing, by the way. Apparently she’d had trouble at her last three schools and then got sent… to us? For some reason?

Where she:

Tried to defund the entire Arts department and tell us we couldn’t have a musical that year. We had one anyway

Switched Fun Math Teacher and Fun Music Teacher who just so happened to have the same name so they had to teach each others’ subjects for the year (they were VERY upset, tried to fix it multiple times, and then just suffered through)

Tried to get the cops to patrol the pines where all the stoners hung out, smoked, and enacted clan warfare

Painted over all the murals which had been done by graduating classes leading back a century

Replaced said historic murals with badly laid out and uneven “motivational” quotes that made no sense

Instituted hall monitoring and hall passes, mandatory for the whole school. Our drama teacher (who fought to the death for said musical) blatantly encouraged us all to flaunt that rule, lose the pass, and use any challenges as an improv exercise. One time she let 10 people go at once because we needed pencils and no one brought those to drama class, so she just told them to scatter and all claim they had her pass. I don’t think she had a pass

We. Uh. Retaliated in kind, including a school wide walk out organized by the goddamn stoners (You Know You Fucked Up When)

I was interviewed by the news cuz I had hippy hair by sheer coincidence that day

And a little before the end of the school year we were all assured that she was being “promoted” to a desk job somewhere in the board of education and would never work in a school again

(I had a couple friends who went to the school she’d been at right before ours. They were very impressed and supported our actions)

- again, I did not attend end of school anything, but one year the fun math teacher faked a zipline by stringing a line to the stage and getting the English teachers to push him on a skateboard

I suspect they were influenced by memes because no way in hell could we do an actual zipline

- in my last year a fight broke out between two girls in the cafeteria. An entirely commonplace event, except while the two of them were just rolling around on the ground a third girl came over

Circled them a few times examining the fight from all angles

And began kicking the shit out of both of them indiscriminately

We suspect she knew them but probably not what the fight was about. She won though

- actually I dunno if the staff vs student hockey game was even a thing other high schools did but every year the grade 12s fielded a team to play against the teachers

The teachers usually won by dint of having a consistent team that played together for multiple years, while the school hockey team was mixed grades

- oh and not exactly an incident but the hot math teacher used to dress up as Indiana Jones for Halloween every year and if you sharpened your pencil and then put it down he’d throw it into the ceiling to see if it stuck

We never warned the next class in if a pencil had gotten stuck because sometimes they just fell down in the middle of class it was great

- one of my sister’s friends exclusively drew dragons for art class. The next four years the art teacher banned anyone from submitting dragons for anything

[blinkaholik1]

Reliquary Continued

Recent Acquisition As the foremost Italian cabinetmaker of the 18th century, Pietro Piffeti was in the service of the royal House of Savory for over 40 years. Piffetti’s works are remarkable for their technical skill; the intricate marquetry decoration on this prie-dieu is all the more impressive when one considers the difficulty of veneering curved surfaces. Thes prie-dieu-a kneeling bench used at home for personal devotion - was most likely made for the youngest son of Carl Emmanuel III, King of Sardinia, for use in the Palace of Venaria, the family’s hunting lodge outside Turin. A door in the center of the prie-dieu conceals a small cabinet for a rosary and prayer books, and the drawer at the base would have held a padded kneeler. The interiors of the cabinet retains its original pink paint; popular in the mid-18th century, the color pink did not yet have the feminine associations it does today. Door About 1750 Design attributed to Giovanni Domenico Tiepolo (Italian, 1727-1804) Venice Wood, gessoed and lacquered with polychrome decoration and gilding Bessie Bennett Endowment, 1953.461 Side Chair About 1740 Giles Grendey (English, 1693-1780) London Walnut and 18th-century, replaced upholstery Gift of the Antiquarian Society, through the Mrs. Edgar J. Uihlein Fund, 1983.718 Desk and Bookcase 1732 John Kirkhoffer (Irish, born Germany, active 1730s) Dublin Walnut, holly, mirror glaze, and brass Gift of Robert Allerton, 1957.200 When this walnut desk and bookcase was purchased by the Art Institute of Chicago in 1957, it was described by the dealer as “English, about 1710.” Only recently have the name of the maker and date, “John Kirkhoffer Facit [sic] 1732,” been found inscribed in pencil on the bottom of the lower right drawer. As the oldest known piece of signed and dated Irish furniture, it has become a Rosetta Stone for attributing other closely related examples of Dublin cabinetary, especially those notable for their use of similar marquetry inlay. Candelabra, 1700/20 England Glass Gift of Mr. and Mrs. John H. Bryan, 2012.866 Seated Buddist Cult Figure and Potpourri Vase, c. 1740 France Chantilly Porcelain Factory (founded c. 1725) Soft-paste porcelain Gift of Mrs. Hareold C. Smith and the Antiuarian Society, 1969.225 The Louis Smith Bross Gallery (206-234B) Coffer 1700/20 Attributed to Andres-Charles Boulle (French, 1642-1732) Paris Oak, tortoiseshell, brass, gilt copper, pewter, ebony, and gilt-bronze mounts Michael A. Bradshaw and Kenneth S. Harris, Eloise W. Martin, Richard T. Crane. Jr., Memorial, and European Decorative Arts Purchase funds; through prior acquisitions of Mrs. C. H. Boissevain in memory of Henry C. Dangler, Kate S. Buckingham Endowment, David Dangler, Harold T. Martin, and Katherine Field-Rodman, 2001.54 Looking Glass About 1700 Probably London Gessoedand gilt pine, verre eglomise (reverse-pained glass), gilding, and mirror glass Gift of Mr. and Mrs. L. W. Colburn, 1968.424

[withoneheadlight]

| billy & will + pre-harringrove | full fic in spanish |

~

There’s an in-between. The high school and the middle school. A bare piece of land, yellowed from the lack of grass and the rough kiss of the sun and, right in the middle, an old shack.

It's a shabby thing that accumulates lack of re-paintings and excess of humidity but that’s out of sight, in that way of things that are just there but no one wastes time looking at anymore are.

That's where they meet.

Billy lights up a smoke. Slides his ass up an ancient, long retired desk, pasture now of the damp and rot, and leans against the peeling wood. Front and back-row seat to the long column of trees the wind’s rippling along on the other side of the wire fence. The ember warms up his lips as he inhales a deep puff and exhales a,

“You’re getting soft, Billy Hargrove”

He leans his head back and closes his eyes, ears on that ceaseless chirping of the bids that sews together the slow-passing hours of the days and nights of Indiana, and on the delighted screams from the middle-schoolers, remembering that, somewhere in there, there's a bunch of kids who will still be laughing just as hard, just as happy, a few years down the road. That maybe even Max could be one of them, if Billy hurries. That maybe he will too, if Billy is able to control that instinctive reaction that pulls his skin inward and screams at him to stopstopstop, that the soft skin shreds, falls apart so easily.

But maybe it can be both of them, if Billy manages to clench his teeth hard enough and keep on softening.

‘Cause soft skin hurts when it breaks but,

"Hey!"

Sometimes it’s worth it.

Will’s smiling wide. Stops running, abruptly, and then just stands in there, panting. He’s got a funny nose and giant eyes. The kind of bangs that make you wanna blow them out of his eyes even though what they're is too short, actually, and Billy’s always thought he'd do better in life if he didn't. Notice things. If he didn't see that widewidewidewide smile and could read it so easily.

"I've been dying to show you this!" Will kneels down into the grass, chopping out the words in between exhalations. Pulls at the zipper of his backpack, chest heaving, and he doesn't realize he's going to get dirt on the knees of his jeans or that Billy can read it. His relief. Of finding him in here and not just an empty desk. Of how for a kid every single day more means 'You care’.

(About me)

It was early December. Friday right after last period and one of those silly things that only happen in movies. Something so like scripted and choreographed that Billy nearly considered looking up at the ceiling to make sure John Hughes wasn't silently watching them, taking notes from above. They crashed in the middle of a corner. Billy sped up ‘cause he was in a hurry and the only way to catch Max in time lately was to intercept her right out of class. Will ‘cause he's always going like that, Billy knows now. Always a thousand miles per hour. Always verging on time-jump speed to then being the kind of kid who seems so quiet it's scary. They crashed. Hard. In the middle of that corner. Papers flying all over and a curse (Will) and a muffled groan (Billy) and they ended up pulling at the same paper one from each corner. A drawing. Trolls and wizards and a castle and an emerald-green light. A star in the distance, auguring bad omens. Billy forgot to be frightening and Will must have forgotten he was supposed to be frightened when he blurted out a,

"Fuck, Byers. This is frikin’ fantastic."

No fear or reticence or that way he sometimes has of bumping into words and stumbling, just a "Really?" eyes huge and bangs brushing against his eyelashes as he blinked when Billy also forgot he was also supposed to― well, supposed to be Billy Hargrove.

"’Got more?"

So now he skips English instead of Algebra, every Tuesday and Thursday. Sneaks off to that in-between place he knows no one wastes time looking at anymore to light up a smoke, same time as Will has his recess. And the kid doesn't always manage to shrug off of his flock of nerds but he’s lucky, some days.

And he brings the drawings.

Orcs and goblins and enchanted mountains on the northwest and it seems to Billy that there are more princes than princesses and that if there are any, they’re almost always sorceresses, almost always queens and that your attention gets hooked on their burning eyes, not in the clothes they’re missing and Billy feels like it's a small grain of sand, this thing they’re doing. Knows that someone’s already keeping a solid ground under Will's feet ('Joyce' he says it’s her name. And it stings, the way he manages to fit so much love, into such a tiny word). But it also seems to him that maybe it doesn't take much more, for Will, just a few grains of sand, to replace those that being a strange kid in a small town sick with apprehension for what it finds strange, takes every day away from him.

So Billy’s gotta have to clench his teeth ‘till his gums start bleeding ‘cause is that, or let his skin toughen up again. Is that. Or fucking everything up.

And ave María, Billy doesn’t want to fuck it all up again.

So he sucks on his cigarette. Hooks up an eyebrow. Waves his hand to hurry the kid up.

“Mmm. That’s how good you think it is, dickwad? ‘C’mon, got my next class in twenty”

Will flies over the papers. Head nodding and fingers skimming fast. Finds what he’s looking for and yanks it out, raises it up triumphantly in his hand. It’s the sword in the stone and he carries it up to Billy with wet knees and just a little mud-staining. It’s February and the sun’s burning brightly over all the wetness the night’s spent crying. The drawing is a huge dragon, wings made of leather and cartilage, spread out in eclipse in front of the moon, only a few silver rays illuminating the dark knight in front of it. Blue eyes lined in black, blond curls cascading down his back and Billy was clenching his teeth but they part now, ‘cause the figure looks too much like him to be a coincidence. A smile devours his whole mouth. Soft. A joke itching on the tip of his tongue. He grunts a,

“I’ve been called many things. But never this, Byers”

Only half his expression’s visible, eyebrows covered with those thick bangs, and Billy has to once again fight the impulse to blow them out.

“¿Hum?”

“Knight” he says, drawling the teasing tone out “In shining armor”

And It’s such a loss, all that hair. Because it’d pass unseen, if you don’t know him. The way his eyebrows spike up underneath and it burrows in between them, the eagerness of teasing back. But Billy’s lucky, ‘cause it’s been more than two months like this and Billy―

Knows him. Well enough at least. So it doesn't pass unseen to him.

“You know the drill, William. Spit it out. Can see you’re holding it up from miles”

Will purses his lips out tight. Looks like he’s trying but. Nah.

“Wouldn’t be that shiny '' scrunches his nose. Throws a meaningful glance at Billy’s disheveled looks. More thoughtful than not, way more intentional. But that's something he'll figure out when he grows up.

Billy cackles. Will's smile widens, satisfied. Hops onto the desk next to his. Billy offers him the cigarette.

“And―this?” Will shrugs inwardly. Glances up at him. Then down, at the exchange between their hands. Takes the cig in between two fingers and it doesn’t burn but he barely presses them against the filter, anyway, as if he’s afraid it would, all of a sudden.

"Retaliation," Billy half grunts, half laughs, and Will huffs, but swallows a deep breath to gather strength. Exhales. Takes a tiny puff and―

"Argg," coughscoughscoughs "This is. Ugh. It's awful. I don't know how you―” almost throws the cigarette back to him "Ufff, what a―" he hesitates "Yuck"

Billy snorts. Thinks about Max inhaling deep, no more than two weeks ago, eyes pining his in place. Breaking into a violent cough only a second later.

Billy pats Will’s back too.

“That’s good” he says “You better not like it” Will scrunches his whole face “And this too” Billy adds, shaking the drawing a little “This is good, too. Amazingly good, man”

Will. Stares. At him. One. Two. Three long seconds. And Billy hurts a little. With every single one. Three sharp stabs with that newly freed sword. A different kind of ' you care' each one: 'it seems so impossible to me (that you care)'. 'If you think so, maybe it's true (and I do care, that you think it)’. 'Thank you (for caring)'. And then. Those hidden eyebrows. Will’s cheeks puffing out a little when he bites the tip of his tongue and―

"Billy?" his eyes glint, heavy with ill-contained malice.

"Uh?"

"You're the dragon"

"You fucking ass―!"

Billy shoves him sideways. But Will just sways. He doesn't lose footing on that firm ground he’s standing on. Looks back at the drawing, hunches a shoulder up.

"But you’re the knight, too"

He says it in a tone that cuts straight through Billy’s chest Thank you he thinks, even though his soft skin is hurting. And he still doesn't blow hard on that bowl fringe from where it covers Will’s whole forehead but―

Stirs up all his hair instead.

“Eh!!”

“Hey, shitbird. Wanna see the one I’ve made?”

Will nods quickly. All contained-speed and reverberating and sometimes Billy doesn't know how so few people can see it, how big he is for his own skin and he thinks I wish, wish he'd accumulate enough grains of sand to raise up that firm ground under his feet, and get really, really high.

“Sure!”

He keeps it tucked away in the breast pocket of his jacket. Folded in upon itself. Same way he keeps everything else. Folds and layers and at the bottom of pockets no one ever looks at but.

He unfolds it to show it to Will Byers.

“Wow” Will says, and smiles up at Billy like Two months since we crashed against each other and I feel like I know you a little too, Billy Hargrove and Billy hit rock bottom but now at least Max and him sing AC/DC in chorus on the rides back home and Will's voice sounds like 'You're good' as he runs his fingertips over the graphite outlines of the skull and repeats, "Wow"

“Gonna have it done” Billy inhales a deep drag of Marlboro and 'Four Months to Eighteen' and for a moment it’s like he could feel the smoke curl up inside his lungs before blowing it out. The image is as pretty as it’s stupid. He glances at the open jaw of the drawing and thinks maybe he'd like a drag too "Have it healed for summer and―"

“What’s happening here?”

Steve.

Harrington.

Hand on his hips, preppy pastel polo lapels up, Ray-Bans holding up that way his hair swirls without really taming it. The twelve o'clock sun is shining sideways from his back and he's pretty. Painfully pretty. And Billy’s sure it's impossible that this redneck raised on corn and money amassed in dubious moral business is the most beautiful thing he's ever seen but sometimes he forgets. That it is impossible because. Fuck. It so seems like it. Light flicking on the ends of his hair where it curls. Under his ear. In the long curve of his neck. And the world doesn't halt and the birds don't stop chirping and the clouds don't part and no preternatural shit happens because this is the black hole where all the world's shit goes, Indiana. But. It so seems like it and,

Billy.

Knew how to breathe but that’s another thing he keeps on forgetting. Every time Steve Harrington passes him by.

He’s gotta force himself. To nod. To stop choking. When Will looks up at him with those big eyes. Questioning.

Apologizing.

Billy Hargrove, from freshly crowned local terror to―

“I was―” Will starts. Inhales. Presses his lips together right before blurting out the truth ‘cause he knows it's the only real way out "Showing Billy my drawings. Sometimes we―"

―the softie whose pride goes high up in his throat every time an eleven-year-old kid says 'Billy, this is good. It's very. Very good, Billy’.

"Sometimes we. Uhm. We―"

Will's already huge eyes get bigger, rounder. As if he’s just realizing that where he's stuck his foot keeps getting muddier, trapping himself all the way in. And Billy smiles lightly at him, sideways, so it’s hidden. From Steve Harrington. From all the world beyond. ‘Cause of that thing about facades and how hard they’re to maintain, when on one side is pressing what you're supposed to be and on the other, relentlessly, what you're hiding.

But Steve’s asking,

“Sometimes―what?” and Will’s eyes are fixed on Billy, two wide-open I’m sorrys and Billy thinks Fuck it, Hargrove. C’mon. Stop hiding.

So he’s the one who says,

“We share our drawings, Harrington”

And Steve.

He’s got those eyes.

They're like a troubled ocean in the heart of winter, those eyes. Hard, hard, hard. Imposing. But soft. So fucking soft. When something catches him off guard. Rolling stones in the breaker. And Billy wants to get swept up in them, like falling along the curve of a wave. Steve looks at him, and at the drawing in his hand, his eyes a swirl and, when he looks up, the calm. And Billy feels as those times when it seemed to him the waves wanted. To wrap around him. To catch him. Soft as the reflecting clouds. And Billy feels as those times when he’d let them. Carry him. Drag him to the shore. Safe and sound.

“Is that yours?” Steve frowns. When he does that. He looks the prettiest. And Billy's heart breaks. In tiny tiny pieces. Thinks This is what it takes, thinks Fuck, thinks, This is how things hurt when you let your skin get soft.

What you don’t have. What you want. What you could―

Fuck.

What you could love so bad you'd rip your own skin off, so they could touch your heart right with their own hands.

Billy nods. Will smiles. Steve’s frown softens and― waveswaveswaves. On an autumn morning. Waves lapping at the surface of an ocean of calm.

And now. Billy sings AC/DC with Max. His heart taking on water when his voice falls off-key and she clutches at her lungs, choking on laughter. Now, he sits in the back of an old shack halfway between who he is and who he should be and so, so very carefully turns at the pages of Will Byers' sketchbook.

And Billy Hargrove hit rock bottom one day in late October. Hit rock bottom and beat into pulp that pretty face he can't stop seeing in his dream. When he's asleep. When he's awake. Hit rock bottom and that's where he's going to stay. It's either that. Or risk coming up to the wrong surface. And it's easier, here at the bottom. Easier to see what matters, when you look up.

Here, Billy takes a breath. Deep. Deeper. Holds onto that air so he has something keeping him alive underwater when Steve snatches the drawing off his hands. Studies it carefully. Says,

"It's―Uhm. Well―" Grins "It's not. Beautiful. Like, conventionally." He eyes cut back to Billy and something in them breaks into whitewater, into that softness he can't help, as if everything else is as much of a lie as 'Billy Hargrove' and all those imaginary walls "But―"

He says ‘But’ and then. The bell goes off.

"Oh!" Will bounces on the spot "I have to―" he yanks the backpack shut "Class!"

He takes off. Running. Turning around right before the corner of the shack to wave at them, flashing one of those smiles Billy has involuntarily categorized as 'the good ones', wide and already almost panting again, before disappearing at the speed of light towards school and to, Billy hopes, be one of those few kids who are still going to be laughing just as hard, just as happy, a few years down the road. If they’re lucky.

(If Billy’s lucky)

Steve Harrington is still there, planted in front of him when the alarm stops.

"Can I bump one of those?" he asks, chin pointing to the smoke Billy's squeezing between his fingers. In the drift of his hair the Ray-Bans stay afloat, capsizing.

Billy bangs the base of the pack against his thigh, pops out a cigarette. Offers it to him. Scrapes his thumb along the wheel when Steve takes it to his lips, leaning forward and― It's broad daylight but in the thin glow of the flame it almost feels like it’s that exact instant when the world begins to fade, darkness turning wide-open spaces into narrow little universes: Steve Harrington and his red lips around the smoke and a small ache in the pad of Billy's thumb from keeping alive the fire and from wanting things with a bigger kind of ache, his heart cauterizing from holding inside the rage of knowing he's never, ever going to have them but―

"But?" Billy asks.

Steve grabs his wrist. Hollows out his cheeks. Inhales deep. Takes him a moment when he pulls away. To let go. Long enough that his fingers could read the way Billy's pulse is raging in his wrist, if he wanted to.

“But” And he’s smiling. Lopsided. He slips into Will's seat and stretches his neck toward the sky. Prolongs the wait. Exhales. "It's cute."

And then his gaze cuts down and he’s searching for him, with those eyes of his. For Billy, who can never stop looking at him so, when he finds him, finds him looking back already.

And Billy―

Billy.

"Cute?"

Billy. Blinks. His hand stops halfway from getting his own cigarette to his mouth. Stops his heart and it feels like time’s stopping too, in this narrowness Steve's presence has reduced the moment into. And he’s smiling big now. His eyes soft. Soft. So fucking soft. And Billy thinks,

You're getting soft too, Billy Hargrove. You want to let him shred off your skin, when Steve says,

"You," snorting a soft laugh, sun melting in his eyes like honey "With Will. Drawing."

Billy wants him to never stop looking at him like that. Wants to lean in, and kiss him.

"Shut up and smoke your fucking cigarette, Harrington" he growls.

And Steve rolls his eyes in a way that screams 'Gotcha, Hargrove', but leans his back against the peeling wood of the shack.

And does as he’s told.

(Next Tuesday, it's not just Will who shows up, when the bell starts ringing)

.

.

i just finished translating this and, since i had originally written this part as and stand-alone thing. here it is. idk if it's worth the work of translating it whole, or if i really feel like it but, we'll see!. i've been at war with life and writing this past few weeks but i've been missing you so much, fandom <3<3<3. hope you've been doing well.

also billy + will + drawing is one of my fav hcs and there are a few tiny things more that i wanna write? hopefully i will 🌟

[lemonysssnickers]

I've waited years to be asked for ranpoe fic recs!!! These are not everything, by far so. These are just ones that I remember (the list is so long I'm so sorry😓). Also I only added finished works

Fluff:

Baby, Both Arms Cradle You Now (Both Arms Cradle You Now) by AudB23

(Literal sleeping together/thunderstorm)

Paint me into sleep by Silvfyre

(Stressed ranpo/comforting poe)

taroko by langatism

(Aquarim date)

His Ranpo by Kodzukenkozume22

Missed Signals (just talk to each other) by Owlbee_writing

Muses and Makeup by xerx

(They do makeup)

Not What He Seems by sopenation

(Pining ranpo)

Trigger Of Love by HyperNovva

(Sniper poe)

Bare Minimum (At least for us) by TaintedWrites

(Valentines day)

Language Barrier by Leftoverbriocheloaf

(Poe talks english)

Half-baked blunders by juniperberriezzz

(Baking)

Angst (all of those are hurt/comfort)

"I don't feel good." By andrew_6333

(Poe hurt)

when i go (bury me six feet in snow) by langatism

(Poe hurt again,)

roses and flowers (and death and sorrow) by ac1dd_s

(Misunderstandings)

Through my Fingers to the Deep by MidnighttWriter

(Poe hurt hurt)

That Would Be Enough by Cash_Drabbles

(Ranpo hurt/ poe backstory)

no one ever made us feel that much higher by mxlysar

(Ranpo mafia au)

Multi-chaptered:

paper rings by driven_to_insanity

(Canon divergence/different meeting, I actually gotta reread that cause I don't remember clearly)

A simple matter of deduction by ChaoticQuill

(No powers au)

communication methods by Irri_table123

(Obsessive from both sides)

There's a Method to This by Leftoverbriocheloaf

(Teacher au)

Interesting? by Leftoverbriocheloaf

(Highschool au)

Smut:

for once in my life (i have someone who needs me) by banji_shiield

(Bottom,sub ranpo/top,dom poe, morning sex)

I Expected Different, Though I am not complaining by samurin

(Bottom,sub ranpo/top,dom poe)

leave eden with my seed in your stomach by banji_shiield

(Top ranpo/bottom poe, car)

Now? Really? By final_zep

(The,, agency's bathroom)

First Love by Poeponati0n

(Bottom ranpo/top poe, first times)

rising to every occasion as if i defeated the gods by hyperfixationsfordays

(Bottom ranpo/top poe, desk)

oh how I crave you, my dear by aslkjnv

(Bottom ranpo/top,sub poe)

Happy birthday, Ranpo! by Benji_the_crabb

(Birthday sex)

black lace by jolynebabe

(Top ranpo/bottom poe, lingerie)

may i humbly ask you all for some ranpoe fic recs

[berrynarrybanana]

Me and You Together

A/N: Hello! I would like to say first of all that ^ is not my gif. I had it saved on my computer from somewhere and it just felt perfect for this. I do love my little sweet pea and frat boy Harry, but I also feel like I’ve done them dirty in this fic. I wanted to add more angst, but we all know I’m shit at that kind of stuff bc I’m soft at heart. Anywho, I really hope that you enjoy this and I just want to thank the lovely @stellarboystyles​ for putting together this little fic challenge. Congrats on 3 years babe! I hope that you like this story and that I have done this celebratory moment justice! 

Word Count: 11.9 k 

Warnings: Alcohol, smut, pining, Louis being a dickhead, a mean roommate

Trope: Best Friends to Lovers with Frat Boy Harry 

Prompt: “Just sit on my fingers. Yeah, just like that.” (this is all the way at the end tbh, just a heads up lol) 

P.s I know nothing about frat’s honestly and I just tried to avoid that the best that I could but fratboy!h lives in my mind rent free and I wanted to write it so....yeah.

September

Piper’s POV 

I rolled my head back on my neck, looking up at the ceiling as my roommate sighed. 

“Has anyone told you that you’re a selfish bitch?” Carli asked, her perfectly manicured nail resting on the cheap, wooden door of our dorm room. “I’m trying to unwind and relax after an extremely hard week and you’re ruining it for me.” 

“I live here too!” I felt my brows pull together in frustration as I adjusted my bag on my sore shoulders, shifting from foot to foot. “The least you can let me do is come in and change before you start fucking.”

“You’re killing my mood!” She groaned, holding her hand out. “Give me your fucking bag and tell me what you need.” 

“Carli-”

“Tell me what you need or I’m shutting this door in your face, I swear to god.” She snapped, her brows arching up as she wiggled her fingers at me. “You have five seconds.” 

“Fine!” I said, shrugging my bag off my tired shoulders. “I need my purse, a black t-shirt, and a jacket.” 

“Great.” 

She slammed the door in my face, flicking the lock as I brushed my hands over my face angrily. 

College was not supposed to be like this. 

The next four years of my life were meant to be spent making new friends and partaking in fun activities on campus. So far, the only person I knew was Carli and she most definitely hated my guts with a burning passion. I wasn’t sure why she hated me so much when I mainly kept to myself, hunched over my desk with headphones on for most of the night when I studied. I hardly ever talked to Carli besides the odd argument about my typing being too loud and my presence being too...obvious. I hated every second of college so far and this wasn’t helping me at all. 

I was moments away from having a breakdown, the build up creeping up my throat as I stood there in the hall, waiting for Carli as everyone else stared at my back. I tried not to let their prying eyes bother me, but I could feel the hairs standing up on the back of my neck as I crossed my arms over my chest. I tried to distract my mind, thinking about where I was going to go while Carli got her rocks off in our shared room. Maybe the library? Maybe a cafe?

Just as I started listing off cafes in my head, the door opened just a crack. 

“Here’s your stuff, don’t come home before midnight.” She stuck a hand out, her voice muffled by the door. I rolled my eyes, grabbing my things from her hands. “Bye, Pippi!”

“It’s Piper, you unbearable asshole.” I sighed, holding my stuff close to my chest as frustrated tears started to accumulate behind my eyes. “I hope you don’t have an orgasm.” 

I turned on my heels, ready to storm towards the communal bathroom so I could change and collect myself before leaving. I only made it halfway down the hall when I heard someone shouting behind me. I wasn’t sure they were actually calling out for me until I felt a hand on my shoulder. I stopped in my tracks, sniffling as I reached up to wipe at my cheeks. 

“Piper, hold on.” The girl who was calling my name stepped in front of me, letting out a shuddery breath. She only had eyeshadow on one of her perfectly shaped eyes and a makeup brush in her hand as she stopped. “I just wanted to say that I am so sorry your roommate just did that to you. You can use my room to change if you’d like? I know the communal bathroom doesn’t always offer the most privacy and my roommate is never home. I’ll stand outside and everything!” 

“You don’t have to do that.” I sniffled before offering her a forced smile. I wasn’t in the mood to deal with teasing right now. “But thank you.” 

“I insist.” Her brown eyes looked softer as she spoke, her hand falling to her side. “My name is Eleanor. I think we have Modern English together.” 

“Piper.” I said. “Are you sure you’re okay with that?” 

“Yeah.” She nodded. “I don’t mind it at all, babes.” 

Eleanor left me in her room to get dressed, politely standing outside as I collected myself. 

I took a few deep breaths, trying to compose myself as I stripped out of the blouse I had been wearing all day. I pulled my black t-shirt on, huffing when I realized that this wasn’t the one I actually needed. This one was meant for darker jeans and a pair of heeled boots. This top was meant for parties and bars, not a cafe. The criss crossed pattern was far too fancy for a late night cup of coffee and a lonely piece of cheesecake. 

When I opened the door, my old shirt bundled up in my hand, I smiled at Eleanor. 

She looked over my outfit, her eyes growing wide. 

“You look great!” She said. “Do you have plans tonight?” 

“I was just gonna go to Fitz and Co for coffee and dessert.” I gave her a nervous chuckle, clutching my old shirt in my hands. “Probably going to wander around campus after to kill time.” 

“Don’t take offense,” She gave me a sweet smile, her accent growing thicker with each word she spoke. I hadn’t noticed it all that much before when my emotions were on overdrive and my mind was swirling with anger. “But that sounds absolutely dreadful and you deserve to have a little bit of fun. It’s Friday night for fuck’s sake and we’re in Uni!”

“I don’t really know anyone on campus.” I shrugged. “I’ve not made a ton of friends yet, you know?” 

“I do, actually.” She nodded. “If I had to say, you’re the first person I’ve tried to make conversation with since I’ve been here. I’m going to a party tonight because my boyfriend’s frat is hosting it, and he’ll just text me all night if I don’t go.”

“That sounds like fun.” I said. “Thank you for helping me out and offering me your room. I really hope you have fun tonight."

“Why don’t you come with me?” She asked. “I know frat parties sound horrible after all the stuff you see in films, and a lot of them are pretty shit, but I would love to have a drinking buddy.” 

“I don’t want to impose.” I said. “I’m sure you want to spend time with your boyfriend.”

“Nonsense, he sees me everyday.” She shook her head. “I would love to have someone to chat with that isn’t one of his football friends from back home.” 

“Um, okay.’” I shrugged. “I guess that’s not too horrible and I kind of owe you one.”

“You won’t regret it.” 

                                         🥃🔸🥃🔸🥃🔸🥃🔸🥃

“So the house shouldn’t be too crowded.” Eleanor pulled her flannel tighter around her body, hunching over as the wind whipped around us. “A few of the guys are still out getting alcohol and people aren’t supposed to start showing up for another hour at least.”

“That’s good.” I nodded. “So why did you decide to come to school here?”

“Louis.” She said. “I couldn’t stomach the idea of being away from Lou and there are so many opportunities in America for both of us. He’s here on a footie scholarship and I’m here on a performing arts scholarship.”

“That’s really cool!” I exclaimed, my eyebrows raising up. “I didn’t peg you for a theatre nerd.”

“Just a tiny one.” She chuckled. “I’m more into the costumes than anything. Fashion has always owned my heart and my Mum took me to so many musicals as a girl. I figured I would combine my love for both and make it my career.”

“I admire that.” I said softly, glancing down at the sidewalk as we turned a corner. “So how long have you and Louis been together?”

“Four years.” She smiled. “We met on a holiday to London one summer and we’ve never let go of each other. Last year we went to the same University for our first year before deciding to come abroad and it was….magical.”

“He sounds lovely.” I said. “He makes you happy?” 

“He does.” She nodded, her lips pursing slightly as she tried to hide her smile. “He’s a proper gentleman, even when he’s being a bit too laddie.”

“I don’t even know what that means.” I chuckled and Eleanor joined in. “What is a laddie? Is that like Lassie, the dog?”

“Not like that dog.” She scrunched up her nose. “I think you call them ‘Bro’s’ over here.” 

“Ah, I do understand then.” 

Eleanor and I continued chatting as we walked down Frat Row. 

The houses were large, but they looked a little plain and rundown. I imagine having a group of rowdy, drunk boys living in a house without supervision didn’t do well for wear and tear on a house. Eleanor told me that the last house on frat row in the cul-de-sac belonged to pretty much the entire footy team with a few odd guys sprinkled in. 

When we arrived, my jaw nearly dropped to the ground. 

I was living in a tiny dorm room and these men were living like kings and a gigantic and modern house that looked brand new. Eleanor laughed as I took in the dark, blue-grey exterior. The shutters and the porch were both painted a dark, charcoal grey. We walked up the stairs and I continued to look around like a kid lost in a candy store. 

Maybe joining a sorority wasn’t a bad move?

“So, that is the living room and just down that first hall is the bathroom. I recommend going upstairs to Louis’ room if you want to use a clean and unoccupied bathroom.” She chuckled. “I’ll show you around upstairs later if you’d like.”

“This is the cleanest Frat house I’ve ever seen in my life.” I said slowly, looking around. “How is it so pristine?”

“A few of the guys are really obsessed with cleanliness and organization.” She chuckled. “Also I spend a lot of time over here, so I do what I can.”

“I would spend all of my time here, too.” I said. “Why are you even in a dorm if you could be here?”

“Rules.” She rolled her eyes. “Technically women aren’t allowed to be housed in a frat, which blows, but I understand it.”

“Well, I’ll pretend to be you and stay in your dorm if you want to fly under the radar and move here.” I teased, patting her shoulder. “It’s a win win for both of us.”

“I might take you up on that.” She giggled, guiding me through an open archway. “This here is the kitchen-”

“Ellie, s’that you!” 

Eleanor flinched at the booming voice from upstairs, her eyes casting up to the ceiling as she grumbled. 

“Bloody hell, these men,” She shot me a sympathetic look and I tried my best not to laugh softly at her annoyance. “Yes, Niall?”

“I need help.” This accent was slightly different than Eleanor’s and it almost reminded me of the guy on the lucky charms commercial. “I don’t know what trousers to wear, should I do these dark jeans or these plaid one’s.”

The voice was closer and closer with each word and suddenly, a half naked man appeared in the doorway, holding two pairs of pants as he looked down at them. He was wearing white boxer briefs and white socks, the rest of his pale and freckled skin on display. I had to admit that he was extremely attractive, chestnut colored hair on top of his head and a soft stomach rounded out with a matching chestnut happy trail dusting under his belly button. 

“Oh, hello.” He looked up, smiling at me with piercing blue eyes and extremely handsome features. I tried not to blush, my eyes glued to his. “Which one’s do ya think I should wear, love? Good to have an outsider’s perspective sometimes.” 

The sound of a door shutting behind us caused my head to snap around. 

This was more of a man standing at the opposite end of the kitchen, his chocolate colored curls framing his face and resting on his broad shoulders as he looked up at me. His face was perfect, adonis like features catching my attention and his bright green eyes causing my breath to catch in my throat. He offered me a small smile, his features soft as he cleared his throat. 

“Hello.” He said softly to me before his eyes darted up, looking behind me. “For fuck’s sake, Niall. Why are you nearly naked!” 

“I needed help!” I turned my head back towards Niall as his brows pulled together, his lips turning to a scowl. “I can’t decide what trousers to wear and Liam is no help!” 

“We have a guest.” The green eyed god spoke from behind me, but I didn’t dare turn my head. I was afraid that if I did, I would be stuck staring at him for the rest of the night. “Don’t be rude.”

I glanced over at Eleanor who lifted her hand to pinch the bridge of her nose. 

I tried, again, not to laugh at her misery. 

“I swear to god, Niall,” She sighed heavily. “The least you could do is introduce yourself to the poor girl before you flash her.”

“M’Niall,” He rolled his eyes, looking over at me. “What’s your name, love?” 

Harry’s POV

“My name is Piper.” 

I stared at the back of her head, trying my best not to think about running my fingers through her soft curls that nearly matched the shade of my own. I inhaled sharply as I pressed my fingertips into the marble countertop below me. I had seen this girl, Piper, around campus before. I saw her flitting from building to building with her head tilted down and her headphones tucked in her cute little ears. I had a huge crush on this girl and now she was standing in my kitchen with my half-naked roommate and my best friend’s girl. 

This wasn’t a good thing at all.

“S’nice to meet you, Piper.” Niall winked at her and I rolled my eyes, shooting him a glare over the girls head. 

His brows furrowed and I gave him a pointed look before mouthing, ‘That’s the girl’.

Niall’s brows lifted up and he shot me a cheeky grin. 

He was the only one I confided in about my girl troubles. 

He knew all about the mystery girl that I passed by every day on my way to physics class and he had suggested to me several times that bumping into her was the best way to catch her attention. I declined, rolling my eyes at his childish suggestion. I had to admit though, if she had been in my class, I would have tossed paper at the back of her head to get her attention. 

It was a trick that never failed. 

“Well, I’m gonna go get dressed then.” He cleared his throat, glancing over at Eleanor. “Lou is stuck on the phone with his Mum, babe. I think he might need some rescuing if he’s going to join the party at all tonight.”

“Oh,” Eleanor stood straighter, glancing over at Piper. “I don’t want to leave Piper-”

“I can stay with her.” I cleared my throat, reaching up to fiddle with my hair as both girls turned to look at me. “I’ve finished my part of party prep, so I don’t mind.”

“Harry, I don’t know.” Eleanor said. “I’m already afraid Niall’s neon white body is going to scare her off. I don’t need you turning on your Cheshire Charm.”

“Oi, I resent that.” I narrowed my eyes at her playfully, trying to fight off my smile as she chuckled. “I won’t be turning on any charm tonight, love. I’ve got a big match to play tomorrow, remember? Gotta save my strength and energy if I wanna do well.”

“Alright, fine.” Eleanor sighed, turning back to Piper. “Are you okay if I disappear for a few minutes? I promise I’ll be right back.” 

“It’s fine.” Piper smiled at Eleanor, gently nodding her head. “Please, go ahead. I don’t mind waiting down here.”

“You’re sure?” Eleanor asked, her face laced with concern. 

“Positive.” Piper glanced over at me. “I think I’m in good hands with ol’ Cheshire Charm back there.” 

My smile was so wide that it hurt my cheeks. 

She was funny and gorgeous.

Eleanor glanced between the two of us before saying a quick ‘be right back’.

“It’s nice to meet you.” Piper turned around, her hands pressing against the countertop as Niall wiggled his brows behind us. He disappeared behind Eleanor moments later, leaving Piper and I alone in the kitchen. “Would you like a Whiteclaw?”

“Oh, sure.” She nodded, her eyes dropping down to her hands. “I would love one.”

“You seem a bit nervous.” I said, walking towards the fridge. “Do you have a flavor preference?”

“No.” She said softly. “And yeah, I guess I am a bit nervous. I’ve had a pretty tough day and I wasn’t exactly prepared to come to a frat party.”

“Why are you here then?” I asked, my eyes scanning the shelves until I landed on the one filled with canned drinks. I reached for two lime flavored cocktails, pulling them out before I shut the door with my hip. “If you don’t mind me asking, that is.” 

“Um, Eleanor extended the invitation and I kind of owed her one.” Piper smiled, taking the drink with a soft ‘thank you’. “My roommate is a bit of a dickhead and she kicked me out so she could get laid. Eleanor saw me in the hallway on the verge of a mental breakdown and we just...hit it off, I guess.”

“Sorry your roommate was a dickhead.” I smiled, letting my eyes roam over the soft features of her face. “I’m glad you and El hit it off though. It’s nice to have a new face around here.”

I let my eyes trail over the features of her face now that she was up close and personal. 

Her eyes were hazel, a soft golden hue to her irises. Her brows were thick and wild, but perfectly shaped. There were soft freckles peeking out from under her foundation and her cheeks were a soft shade of red. Her nose was soft and rounded at the end and I couldn’t help but think of hovering over her, brushing my own nose against hers as I thrust into her. 

I hated being a man sometimes. 

She was a beautiful girl and even in my head she deserved better than to be thought of that way. She was more than just a sexual object and she didn’t need some creepy frat guy thinking dirty thoughts about her only moments after meeting her. I cleared my throat, reaching for my drink. I took a long sip as she raised her brows, offering me a sly smirk as she sipped at her own drink. 

“Eleanor is a really sweet girl.” I rested my can on the marble countertop. “She’s been having trouble making friends over here, so it’s nice that she’s found someone to hang out with besides us.” 

“I really like her.” Piper said softly. “I’ve been having trouble making friends, too. I’m not really the best at putting myself out there, you know?”

“I think you’re doing just fine.” I flashed her a reassuring smile, noticing how her cheeks turned a shade darker. “I don’t think I’ve fully introduced myself, love. I’m Harry.”

“I’m Piper.” She held her hand out and I took it, giving it a soft shake. “It’s nice to meet you, Harry.” 

Her skin was so bloody soft, her hands a little cold and damp from the can she was holding. 

“You too.” I said. “If you need anything tonight, please don’t hesitate to find me. I know how overwhelming these parties can be and I’ll be happy to keep you company or walk you out for some fresh air if you need it.” 

“Thank you.” She said softly. “The same goes for you. If you need any company tonight, I’m your girl.” 

Just like that, my mind was back in the gutter. 

All I could hear in my head was the echoes of her sweet moans, her voice chanting over and over again ‘M’your girl, Harry. Yours’. I cleared my throat, giving her a tight smile as I tried to avoid thinking about her tucked in my sheets, writhing and gasping as I licked into her. 

I was so totally fucked.

                                        🥃🔸🥃🔸🥃🔸🥃🔸🥃

“Piper, babe,” I laughed, holding her hips tightly as she swayed. “I think we should sit you down for a minute, yeah?”

“If I sit, I’ll sleep.” She whined, looking up at me with her sweet puppy dog eyes. “Where did Eleanor go?” 

“Eleanor is going upstairs with Louis.” I said softly, digging my fingers into the fleshy skin above the waistband of her jeans. “Do you want me to take you home?”

She pursed her lips, shaking her head as she pressed her hands into my shoulders. 

I knew exactly how we’d gotten here. 

The party was still going strong around us, people dancing and shouting as Piper swayed in front of me. I wanted so badly to brush her hair from her face and stroke the soft skin of her cheek, but I would never do something like that when she was this off her face. Holding onto her hips was already too intimate for my liking, but I was afraid she would topple over without some form of support. She swayed forward, her eyes face pinching up ever so slightly before she pressed one hand to her forehead. I frowned, pulling her closer as a group of guys rushed by.

If Niall hadn’t suggested we play four drinking games in a row, Piper and Eleanor might not have been off their faces within the first two hours of the party. I had to admit that I didn’t exactly mind taking care of Piper. She was a funny drunk, silly puns and snide comments slipping from her lips carelessly as she leaned against me. It was when her eyes started to drift shut and her body started to sway, that I started to worry about her. I pulled her into the kitchen alongside a giggly Eleanor, handing them both bottles of water while I quickly cooked up some pizza rolls that Niall had hidden in the freezer. Both girls ate between loud laughs, knocking into each other as I watched them with a small smile on my face.

 Seeing Eleanor happy made me happy, but seeing her happy with the girl of my dreams made me feel like I was on cloud nine. 

“Mate,” Louis’ hand clapped down on my shoulder and I turned my head as Piper’s body fell into mine. “I can take her off your hands. El told me they live in the same halls-”

“She can barely stand on her own, Lou.” I shook my head, glancing down as she rested her head on my shoulder. “Gonna go put her to bed in my room. I’ll sleep on the couch after everyone is gone.”

“Lock the door if you leave her up there.” Louis said. “I’m going back up to El in a minute, but I figured I should get some painkillers and water for the morning.”

“Bring some up for Piper?” I asked him. “I probably won’t leave her alone in there, knowing all of these jackasses are around.”

“Tell me about it.” Louis snorted out a laugh, shaking his head. “I’ll be up in five.”

I nodded, watching him disappear through the crowd of people in our living room. 

“Hey, love,” I said softly. “Gonna take you upstairs and tuck you in, okay?”

“Kay.” She mumbled, turning her head until her nose brushed against the column of my neck. 

I made a mental note to have a talk with her tomorrow about going places with strangers when she was drunk. I knew that I meant no harm, but we were still getting to know each other. It set off a level of worry that I only ever felt when it came to my Mum or Sister. It was almost a primal need to protect, my arms winding tightly around her as I guided her to the stairs. 

It was no easy feat to get her up the staircase, but when we finally made it to my room, she snapped into a more alert mode. She looked up, her tired eyes growing as wide as they could before she brushed some of her hair out of her face. She looked up at me, her eyes searching my face as I pressed my hand lightly to her lower back. 

“Thank you for taking care of me, Harry.” She said softly. “I’m really sorry I’m ruining your fun.” 

“Nonsense, love.” I shook my head. “S’just another party, there will be plenty more.” 

“Still.” She mumbled. “I don’t want to take your bed. Sleeping on the couch is bad for your back and I overheard that you have a match tomorrow.”

“S’alright.” I said. “I’ve slept on a floor before a match and still kicked ass, Piper. I don’t mind giving my bed up for a good cause.”

She let out an aggravated sigh, rolling her eyes at me. 

I tried not to smile as she grumbled under her breath, reaching for the doorknob to my bedroom door. I followed in behind her, flicking the light switch on before I shut the door behind me. Piper staggered a little and I hovered, my hands waiting to catch her should she fall. Instead, she stumbled over to my bed on bambi like legs, collapsing on the foot with a soft groan. 

“You need some help?” I asked her as she lifted her leg, struggling with her shoe. She merely waved her hand at me, shaking her head. “You want something comfy to change into? I’ve got sweats, shorts-”

“Sweats sound lovely.” She mumbled, a soft ‘aha’ falling from her lips as she finally tugged the shoelace of her boot out of a knot. “You’re a true gentleman, has anyone ever told you that?” 

“My Mum.” I chuckled, walking over to my dresser in search of comfy clothes. 

“S’good,” Piper sighed out as her boot hit the floor. “Hard to find a proper gentleman these days, Harry. I think Jude Law was the last of them.”

“I won’t argue with you there.” I shook my head, trying to contain my laughter as I sifted through my sweatpants. I settled on my favorite pair, the light grey fabric soft and worn. “Do you want a t-shirt to sleep in or a long sleeve shirt?”

“Um, t-shirt.” She mumbled. “Your room is lovely. Did you do all of the decorating yourself?”

“I did, yeah.” I nodded. “Brought a few key things from home, but I spent most of my money in Target when I got here.” 

“Amen to that.” She hiccuped softly. “I like your record player. I’ve always wanted one of those.”

“One day you’ll have to come up and listen to some records with me.” I glanced at her over my shoulder, noting how the corners of her lips ticked up into a girlish grin. “What kind of music do you like?”

“All of it.” She said simply, her voice trailing off. “I’ve always been a fan of classical music for studying. My mom calls me a psychopath.”

“They are known for indulging in the genre.” I snorted, pulling out a white t-shirt before I turned around. “I think that’s lovely, though. I’ve heard some good stuff from Bach in my music theory class and I have to say, it makes for good studying music.”

“That’s what I’m saying.” She said. “I love me some cello, mate.”

“Look at that.” I hummed out, holding the clothes out to her. “Got you talking like a proper brit now, don’t we. Didn’t even know what footy was at the start of the night.” 

“Piss off.” She grumbled, trying to hide her amusement as she mocked my accent. 

“I’m gonna run to Louis' room while you get dressed, okay?” I said. “Gonna steal you some makeup wipes from El’s overnight bag so we can take your makeup off. I want you to lock the door and don’t open it for anyone besides me. I don’t care if it’s Niall or god himself, alright?”

“Alright.” She whispered softly. “You’re really fucking nice, Harry.”

I tried to resist the urge to brush my knuckles over the soft skin of her cheek, but I couldn’t. 

I inhaled sharply as she closed her eyes, leaning into my touch with a soft hum. 

“I’ll be right back.” I said softly. “Lock the door.”

                                        🥃🔸🥃🔸🥃🔸🥃🔸🥃

Piper’s POV 

Falling in love with Harry took me all of five minutes. 

I decided that it was physically impossible not to love someone so perfect. He was a real gentleman, keeping his hands in respectful spots even when I was falling all over him, drunk off my ass. I felt a little guilty about being so touchy-feely with someone I hardly knew, but I was comfortable around him from the start. He stood by my side for most of the night, talking with Eleanor and I as we tossed shots back like water. 

I stood up from the foot of his bed, fiddling with the button on my pants. My vision was most definitely blurry and my fingers were shaking as I swayed on my feet, but I managed to pull the button from the loop before I shoved my pants down my legs. It took a bit of wiggling to get my ass settled into Harry’s sweats, an article of clothing clearly meant for a man with no….assets. 

With a soft hiccup, I worked on my shirt, tossing it to the ground before I reached behind me to take off my bra. My drunk brain didn’t care about etiquette or embarrassment anymore. That all flew out the window with my third shot of tequila that Niall handed over. When I settled the fabric of Harry’s shirt over my tired limbs, I heard a soft knock at the door. 

I stumbled over, pressing my ear against the wood to hear who was there. I was plastered, yeah, but I remembered Harry’s speech about not opening the door for anyone. 

“Who is it?” I called out, my voice breaking just a little. 

“S’me.” I heard Harry’s gruff voice. “S’Harry.” 

I flicked the lock on the door, opening it up with a soft smile. 

Harry held up some makeup wipes and a bottle of water, flashing me a cheesy grin. I laughed, shutting the door and flicking the lock behind him again as he walked into his room. When I turned around, my arms crossed over my chest, he was looking at my body with soft eyes. 

“Everything feel comfy enough to sleep in?” He asked. 

“Yeah, thanks.” I nodded. 

“Alright.” He nodded, looking up at me with glassy jade eyes. “Let’s get you tucked in, shall we?”

I smiled, walking over to his bed. 

I picked the side farthest from the door and closest to the window. 

Harry pulled back the covers, waiting for me to climb in before he rested them over my legs. He set the bottle of water on the bedside table, two painkillers falling to the wood next to the plastic bottle. He sat down next to my legs, ripping into the makeup wipes with ease. I watched him pluck a sheet out before closing the pack back up, tossing it to the nightstand with the other items. I rolled my lips in as he turned towards me, holding the cloth out. 

“Do you want me to do it?” He asked. “Just so you know it’s all gone?” 

“Yes, please.” I nodded. 

I could take my makeup off in my sleep. 

I’d done it before, actually. 

But there was something about being doted on by Harry that I wasn’t ready to give up just yet. 

I preened as he wiped the cloth over my skin with gentle strokes, swiping away concealer and highlighter with ease. I let my eyes slip shut when he asked, his index finger gently brushing at the small bit of liquid liner and shimmery shadow on my lids. When it got to my lips, he did a few quick dabs before his touch was gone from my face all together. 

“All clean.” He smiled, tossing the wipe towards the bin in the corner of the room. “Alright, I’m going to tuck you in and turn on a movie. I’ll just be on the floor next to you if you need anything at all. Bathroom is through that door right there.”

“Don’t sleep on the floor.” I rolled my eyes. “I’m okay with sharing a bed with you, Harry. Friends do that all the time, don’t they?”

“But you’re drunk.” He said softly. “And I don’t want you to feel pressured or uncomfortable-” 

“I don’t.” I said. “From the moment we met, you’ve made me feel very welcomed and comfortable. I promise that I don’t feel unsafe or pressured in any way, Harry. If you feel more comfortable sleeping on the floor, then I understand, but I’m okay with you sleeping next to me.”

Harry reached up to rustle his long strands of hair, his curls flopping about as he looked at me with a curious gaze. He inhaled sharply, nibbling on his lower lip as I stared back at him with raised brows and an amused grin. 

“I’ll put a pillow wall between us and everything.” I said. “If it makes you feel comfortable.”

“I just don’t want you to wake up in the morning and freak out.” He said softly. “You’ve had a lot to drink and if you don’t remember any of this tomorrow, it might be a little scary to wake up with a strange man in your bed.”

“Well, it’s your bed.” I said softly. “And I’ve been worse off than this and still remembered what happened the night before, Harry. I come from a very small town where drinking is considered a sport. This is a regular Tuesday for me.”

“Alright.” He whispered through a breathy laugh. “But if you change your mind at any point through the night, feel free to kick me out of bed.”

“I won’t.” I rolled my eyes. “Get ready for bed, yeah? You’ve got a big day tomorrow and I can’t have you losing a match because of me. People will think I’m bad luck.”

                                         🥃🔸🥃🔸🥃🔸🥃🔸🥃

Harry’s POV 

When I woke up in the middle of the night, our pillow wall was gone. 

Piper’s cheek was pressed into her pillow, soft puffs of air escaping her parted lips as she tightened her grip on my shirt. Her hand was resting on my tummy and her foot was hooked over my calf muscle, but she remained on her side of the bed. I lay there for a minute, watching her peaceful face as she slept. I tried to commit her features to memory, my heart squeezing in my chest as she shuffled around a bit. I rested my hand over hers, softly brushing my fingers over her knuckles as her body moved just a little closer to mine. 

The dry feeling in my mouth pulled me from my peaceful moment, urging me to go downstairs for my own bottle of water. It was silent in the house, no more music pumping through the speakers downstairs, and I felt safe enough to leave Piper on her own in my room without the doors locked. I would only be gone for a few minutes at the most, running down for water before I ran back up to curl back up next to the sleeping girl in my bed. 

When I made it downstairs, Louis was already in the kitchen.

“Hey,” I grumbled, walking over to the fridge. “What are you doing up?”

“Same as you.” He said. “Thirsty.”

“Hmm.” I nodded. “Eleanor still knocked out cold?”

“Yeah.” He chuckled. “Love that girl to death, but she snores like a bloody chainsaw.”

“That she does.” I laughed, pulling a water bottle out. “I’m glad she’s got Piper as a friend. It was nice to see her unwind tonight.”

“It was.” Louis nodded, pressing his hip into the countertop. “Piper likes you.”

I nearly choked on my water as Louis looked up at me. 

“What?” I asked. “How on earth-” 

“It’s obvious, mate.” Louis rolled his eyes, an amused grin on his lips. “She’s got a bit of a crush on you, but what girl doesn’t?”

“Lou-” I said slowly, my eyes narrowing. “Why do I feel like you’re about to give me a speech.”

“It would break my heart if Eleanor lost her as a friend, Harry.” Louis said softly. “She doesn’t have anyone over here and I at least have you and Niall, you know? If she lost Piper because you two decided to fool around and things ended badly-”

“That’s not what this is.” I said quickly. “And I don’t appreciate what you’re trying to say, either. I would never hurt Piper, or anyone, on purpose. She’s a very sweet girl and it just so happens that I’ve liked her for a while.”

“You know each other, then?” Louis brows arched up and I sighed. “Wasn’t aware.” 

“We don’t know each other, but I’ve seen her around campus.” I mumbled. “Always had my eyes on her, Lou. She’s fucking gorgeous.”

“Harry,” Louis said softly. “I’m asking you as a friend, please don’t get involved.” 

“That’s a shitty thing to ask.” My voice was hoarse. “It’s late and we’re both still pissed. I’m going to bed.” 

“Just think about it.” He said, knocking his knuckles against the countertop. 

Lucky for Louis, it was all I could think about for the rest of the night.

                                         🥃🔸🥃🔸🥃🔸🥃🔸🥃

Piper’s POV 

When I woke up the next morning, I could feel Harry’s heartbeat against my cheek.

The annoying beeping of his alarm had me groaning and turning my face into his chest. I heard him mutter a soft series of ‘sorry’s’ before it turned off. Harry’s arm draped over my back, holding me against his chest as I closed my eyes again. I let out a soft hum as he brushed his fingers up and down my back, his chest rising and falling slowly under my head. 

“I see that we’ve lost the pillow wall.” Harry’s voice was deep and raspy, causing a shiver to run up my spine. 

“Sorry.” I whispered, lifting my head up as I pressed my palm to his chest. “I guess I tossed it aside in the middle of the night.” 

“You did.” He chuckled softly. “You pushed it down with your feet and then you pulled it out and chucked it because you were trying to get comfortable.” 

“You watched me?” I asked, blinking a few times to try and focus my vision as I rested my chin on the back of my hand.

“I felt you flopping around like a fish out of water and I had to check on you.” He said slowly, his own eyes still shut. “I fell back asleep and when I woke up for a wee you were snuggled so tightly against me that I could barely pry you off.”

“I didn’t know that I was a cuddler.” I mumbled softly. “I’ve never really slept in a bed with anyone else before.”

“Well, you can tick that box off of your bucket list.” He smiled, his fingers still brushing over my back as I looked down at him. “You staring at me?” 

“A little.” I confessed, a small smile creeping up on my lips. “Think you’re pretty.”

“Love,” He let out a breathy chuckle. “Easy.”

“What?” I asked, dropping my head back to his chest. “Why can’t I say you're pretty? We spent the night together, I’m allowed to compliment you a little.”

“Do you think it’s a good idea to flirt with me?” He cleared his throat, shifting around under me. I groaned, falling back to the pillow next to him. “Do friends flirt?”

Friends.

I should have known better. 

There was no way on earth someone like Harry would want to be with someone like me.

“Friends can call each other pretty.” I said dejectedly, turning on my side. “And friends can cuddle, too.”

“Well, if it makes you feel better, you’re an amazing cuddler.” He said softly, pressing his palm to my bicep as he leaned over to kiss my temple. “You’re welcome to sleep more if you’d like, but I would love to take you out to breakfast.”

“Breakfast?” I turned my head, looking at him with furrowed brows. “I thought you had a match this morning?”

“I’ve got a few hours.” He rested his body next to mine, his head falling on the pillow next to mine lazily. “Eleanor will be at the match.”

“I know.” I whispered. 

“You should sit with her.” Harry smiled. “I would like that.”

“Okay.” I said softly as he snaked his arm underneath my own, curling it around my middle. I tried to fight off a smile. “Thought we were getting up?”

“Few more minutes.” He mumbled. “You smell nice. S’that your perfume or your shampoo?”

“Probably both.” I smiled, resting my palm over his forearm. “Both sweet pea scented.”

“Piper.” He mused. “Sweet pea.”

“What are you mumbling about?” I asked, trying to contain my giggles at his sleepy rambling. 

“Gonna call you sweet pea.” He mumbled. “Because your name starts with a P and you’re so sweet.” 

Fuck being friends. 

I liked this boy.

And no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t ignore the fluttering feeling in my stomach. 

I was truly fucked.

                                           ⚽️🔹⚽️🔹⚽️🔹⚽️

December

Piper’s POV 

There were only a few seconds left in the match and our boys were killing it. 

Eleanor gripped my hand tighter as Louis shouted to Niall across the field. Seconds later, he was kicking the ball with the side of his foot. Harry was much closer to the goal, ready to land the winning kick into the goal. I looked at him, his chest heaving and his hairline coated in a thin sheen of sweat. His face was intense and it made my thighs clench ever so slightly to see him so serious. He was always so attractive in the middle of a game, his brows pulled together and his lips pinched tightly together. I loved watching him pull his hair up before a game, twisting the long strands around before he tossed it up in a bun on top of his head. 

“He’s got this.” I said. “Come on, Lou!”

“He’s gonna pass to Harry.” She shook her head. “He has to, babe. He’ll miss from back there.”

“They have five fucking seconds.” We always got a bit snippy during games, but never at each other. “It better be a flawless fucking pass.”

Louis passed the black and white checked ball to Harry with a swift kick and I held my breath, waiting to see what would happen. Harry pushed a guy on the opposing team gently with his shoulder, sliding low until his foot collided with the ball. Just as the last second ticked down, it collided with the net behind the goal and Harry collapsed on his back as players rushed around him. 

Everyone cheered loudly, Eleanor jumping up with a loud cheer alongside the crowd. I could barely move, my heart thumping so loudly that it was all I could hear. I watched Harry’s back flat on the ground, my eyes watering as he continued to stay still. When I saw him sit up, shaking his head, I finally took a deep breath. Moments later, Louis and Niall were lifting him up on their shoulders. 

“Thank, fuck.” I whispered, standing up next to Eleanor as I clapped. 

Harry’s eyes flitted to the stands, landing on mine with a wide grin. 

He was covered in mud and dirt, but he was fine. 

Eleanor grabbed my hand, guiding me down towards the field. 

She was quick to launch on Louis when her feet hit the grass and Niall was quick to run over and scoop me up. I patted him on the back, laughing as he shook me around in his arms. 

“We won!” He cheered. “We bloody won!” 

“I know!” I chuckled, brushing my hand over the back of his head. “I’m proud of you, Ni.”

He put me on my feet, pressing a kiss to my cheek before he turned around to Harry. He grabbed his best mate by the face, kissing his forehead before he ran off shouting something that was terribly hard to make out. I rolled my eyes, steadying myself on my feet. Harry walked over to me, holding his arms out with that same wide and cheeky grin on his lips. 

“Come give your best mate a hug,” He said. “Gotta thank my good luck charm.”

“Harry, no.” I said, holding my hands up. “You’re covered in mud and grass and- Harry!” 

I squealed, taking off on the grass as Harry chased me. 

I dodged a few members of the opposing team, apologizing profusely. 

It didn’t take very long for Harry to wrap his arms around me, pulling me against his chest. 

“I deserve a bloody hug, sweet pea.” He squeezed me tight. “I won!”

“I know, but you’re gross.” I groaned, dropping my head back. “You get to shower before we go to lunch and I don’t.” 

“You could always join.” He whispered, his lips brushing against the shell of my ear. “Know you’ve been dying to see me naked, haven’t ya pea?”

“I will elbow you.” I grumbled, spinning around in his arms. “Don’t be a prick.”

“Just like watching you blush, Piper.” He reached over, pinching my cheek softly. “Where are we going for lunch today?” 

“Where do we always go for lunch?” I rolled my eyes. “Go on, get cleaned up so we can go.”

“Fine, fine.” He sighed. “I’ll see you in ten?”

“I’ll be here.”

I walked back over to Eleanor and Louis, my mind stuck on Harry’s cheeky comment. 

I hated when he did stuff like that. 

He was always toying with my emotions, pulling me to and fro like I didn’t have any feelings at all. He knew that I had a crush on him and he knew that it sucked for me to be so close, but I had the power to stop it at any time. The truth was that I couldn’t stomach the thought of being away from him like that. I wanted him in my life, no matter how I could have him. I walked towards Eleanor with a heavy sigh, crossing my arms over my chest as she kissed Louis deeply. 

Being around a couple constantly was torture when you weren’t apart of one yourself. Especially when the person you wanted to be a couple with was always around anyways. When the pair were done kissing, Louis ran off towards the stadium to take a shower in the locker room. Eleanor smiled over at me and I gave her a blank stare, my lips turning down. 

“What happened?” she asked softly. 

“He’s done it again!” I tossed my hands up. “He was all ‘you should come shower with me, I know you want to see me naked’. Isn’t he the one who keeps insisting we should just be friends?” 

“He’s an idiot.” She rolled her eyes. “I hate that he keeps doing this and I hate that you won’t let me talk to him about it.”

“I don’t want to come between you and an old friend, El.” I shook my head. “He’ll grow up eventually, I guess. If he doesn’t, I guess I’ll have to start moving on.”

“I think you two would be so perfect for each other, babe.” She sighed. “I don’t know what his deal is!”

“Has Louis said anything?” I ask softly. “I don’t want to pry but-”

“Not a word.” She said, her sympathetic grin causing my heart to sink. “He spends all of his time with you and we both know that he’s into you, but something is holding him back.”

“Yeah.” I grimaced. “I like him so much, El.”

“I know.” She frowned. “I wish I could smack some sense into that thick skull of his. I mean, men can be so daft and then they say we’re the complicated ones!”

“I know!” I exclaimed. “Anyways, you and Lou are still coming to lunch with us, right?”

“Yeah.” She nodded. “Louis is dying for a turkey apple sandwich.”

“That does sound good.” I hummed out. “I was thinking about soup, though, it’s freezing out here.”

“Oh, soup.” She groaned out. “That’s perfect,”

                                                        ⚽️🔹⚽️🔹⚽️🔹⚽️

Harry’s Pov

I wrapped my towel around my waist, letting out a heavy sigh as I turned the faucet off. 

I hated what I was doing to Piper. 

My sweet pea.

I couldn’t help but rile her up like that, watching her face flush red as I whispered in her ear. 

Part of me was certain that I was riling her up so that she would make the first move. If that was the case, maybe Louis would realize that our feelings for each other were real. 

“Mate,” Louis said. “What was that on the field?” 

“What do you mean?” I asked, my brows furrowing as I walked up to my locker. “We won, Lou.”

“I meant when you were chasing Piper.” He said. “That was flirting, Harry.”

I snapped my mouth shut. 

If he heard the things that passed between Piper and I when we were alone, he’d be livid. 

It was borderline verbal sex with us sometimes, the tension so thick that it had her clamping her legs shut and me shifting in my seat. 

“Was just teasing her, Lou.” I rolled my eyes. “You’re not getting onto Niall for picking her up and kissing her face.”

“Niall means no harm.”

“And neither do I.” I shot him a glare. “Mind your mouth.”

“Why her, Harry?” He sighed. “You could have any bird or lad on campus and you want her, why?”

“Because she’s Piper.” I turned towards him. “She’s the one that I want, okay. I can’t tell you why I think about her every moment of the day or why I want to be with her, I just do. I want to be there for her and you’re stupid fucking fear for Eleanor is standing in my way.”

“You can do what you want.” Louis’ jaw tensed. “M’not standing in your fookin’ way, mate.”

“But you are!” I shouted. “You are because you know that I would never do anything to hurt you or El because you’re family to me. You asked me not to do something and I’m being respectful of that because I respect you. I can’t say that you respect me though, because you would never ask this of me if you did. Can’t you see that this is killing me?”

Louis let out a frustrated huff as I turned back to my locker. 

I grabbed my clothes, angrily pulling them on before I ran my towel over the wet strands of my hair. Piper would be pissed to see me pulling at my curls instead of properly scrunching them up with a soft t-shirt, but I couldn’t be arsed to care about that right now. I slammed my locker shut, hiking my bag onto my shoulder before I stormed out of the locker room. When I walked out onto the field, Eleanor and Piper were whispering amongst themselves. 

“I just don’t get it.” Piper let out a sad sigh. “I want-”

“I know, babe!” Eleanor interrupted her with a chipper voice, pressing her hand to Piper’s bicep with a wide smile. “I wish they still had pumpkin spice too, I already miss it.”

“You women and your pumpkin spice.” I grumbled, pressing my hand to Piper’s hip before I leaned down to kiss her cheek. “Know you miss it, Pea, but it’s peppermint season now.”

“You’re right.” She gave me a playful pout. “I guess I can survive with that for now.”

“Thatta girl.” I chuckled, pulling my hand back as she reached up to touch my hair. “What?”

“You didn’t scrunch your hair properly, H.” She sighed. “I’ve told you to take better care of these curls! They’re going to be frizzy when they dry.”

I licked over my bottom lip, resisting the urge to lean down and kiss the pout off of her lips. 

“Sweet Pea, I’m sorry.” I said softly. “I was in a little bit of a rush, yeah? Wanted to get my favorite girls to lunch.”

“In that case, I guess I can forgive you.” She mumbled. 

                                                    ☕️☕️☕️☕️

Piper’s POV 

I sipped at my peppermint latte as Harry tossed a french fry into his mouth. 

“So when are you all flying home?” I asked. “Only a few weeks left until Christmas and exams are almost over.”

“El and I are flying out next Friday.” Louis said, smiling over at his girlfriend. “I’m excited to see me Mum and sisters.”

“Me too.” Eleanor nodded. “Missed them all.”

“What about you, H?” I asked. 

“I decided to stay.” He shrugged. “I don’t want to disrupt my schedule mid year, you know? It’ll be hard for me to get back into things come January if I spend an entire three weeks vegging out with Mum and Gem.”

“Oh.” I said softly, my face falling as he cleared his throat. 

He was avoiding something and he was sad about it. 

“I’m not going home either.” I said softly. “Too expensive to fly around the holiday’s, you know? Don’t make nearly enough being a full time fan girl for the footie team.”

“Tell me about it.” Eleanor rolled her eyes playfully. “Who do I talk to about getting that raise I was promised.”

“Oh, you get plenty as it is.” Louis leaned forward, capturing her lips. “Pay you in love and other things.”

Harry let out a frustrated sigh, standing up from the table. 

“I’ve gotta go.” He pulled his wallet out, tossing twenty five dollars onto the table. “S’enough for both of us and the tip, Pea. I’ll see you later in Mcgregor Hall for our study session.”

“H-”

“Bye.” He leaned over, pressing a sloppy kiss to my forehead before doing the same to El. 

I watched him storm out with a confused look on my face. 

“Should I not have asked about Christmas?” I looked at Eleanor with soft eyes. “I can’t….El, I can’t do this anymore.”

“Babe, it’s gonna be fine.” She said softly. “He’s just a bit moody today, isn’t he? Misses his Mum a whole lot, it has nothing to do with you.” 

“What are you two on about?” Louis asked, glancing between us. “Is something going on between you and Harry?”

“No.” I shook my head. “That’s the problem.”

“They have this chemistry and Piper really likes Harry, but he told her that being friend’s was their best option.” Eleanor explained softly. “Sometimes he’s sweet on her though and it makes her sad because she wants him.”

“El.” I mumbled, my cheeks growing warm. “He doesn’t need all of the details.”

“You like that miserable sod?” Louis asked. “You’re not worried about a relationship with him ruining your friendship?” 

“Not really.” I shook my head at Louis. “Harry and I will always be friends.” 

“No, I mean,” Louis sighed. “You’re not worried about it ruining you and Eleanor’s friendship?”

“No.” I said slowly. “What are you talking about?”

“I feel like if you and Harry were to break up, you wouldn’t want to be friends with El because he’s always around.” Louis said softly. “Wouldn’t that be hard?”

“For a bit, yeah.” I shrugged. “We’re both mature, though. I think we could work through any differences and remain friends.”

“Why are you being so nosy?” Eleanor narrowed her eyes, looking at Louis. “What have you done?”

“Nothin’!” Louis exclaimed. “I’ve not done anythin’.”

“Louis!” She cried out. “You’re lying to me.”

“M’not.” He fidgeted in his seat, avoiding her gaze. “Swear I meant well.”

“Louis, what did you do?” I asked softly, my heart dropping as he avoided my gaze. “What did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything, I just…” He licked over his bottom lip, looking between Eleanor and I with wide eyes. “I just asked him to consider your friendship with Eleanor before making any moves on you. I didn’t want to see her lose her best friend, you know?”

“You’re a sodding prick, Louis Tomlinson.” Eleanor snapped. “You knew that Harry would respect that if you asked. He thinks of you as a brother and he would do anything for you.”

“I have to go.” I grabbed my bag and my coat. “I have to find Harry.”

“Go on,” Eleanor said. “I’ve got a very naughty boyfriend to deal with.”

                                           ❄️💠❄️💠❄️💠❄️

The first place I ran to was the frat house. 

Harry wasn’t there and Niall hadn’t seen him at all. 

The second place I ran was the park on the far end of campus that we often spent weekends at.

He wasn’t there either. 

When I finally found him, I was only a little shocked. 

“You just played a match, mate.” I let out a relieved sigh when he snapped his head up, his eyes softening when he saw me. “What are you doing out here?”

“Just needed to clear my head.” He said as I walked closer. “Why are you here?”

“I had to see you.” I took a deep breath, swiping the ball from between Harry’s feet with a swift kick. It landed in the goal and Harry let out an amused, but breathy chuckle. “I’m getting good.”

“You’ve got a good teacher.” He snorted out a laugh. “Everything okay, sweet pea?”

“No.” I said. “You see, I’ve got this friend and he’s having some girl trouble.”

“Oh, yeah?” He asked. “What’s his deal?”

“He really likes this girl and he flirts with her all the time, but he hasn’t made a move.” I shrugged, glancing up at Harry. “There’s this other friend of theirs that asked an impossible favor of him and he’s being loyal, which I admit is admirable, but a little daft, as you would say.”

Harry’s Adam's apple bobbed up and down softly and he looked over my head. 

“He does sound quite daft, doesn’t he?” He let out a soft laugh, closing his eyes. “Piper-”

“It makes me love him more though.” I said softly. “The fact that he’s putting aside his feelings because he’s that loyal to the people he loves. It’s stupid, but really sweet.”

“You think so?” He asked, his eyes a little watery as he looked down at me. 

“I do.” I nodded. “Why didn’t you talk to me about this, Harry? We share everything with each other and-”

“This was the one thing I couldn’t tell you, pea.” He said softly. “I never wanted to hurt you and...I knew that this would.  I didn’t want you to feel like I was choosing something over you, because that isn’t the case.” 

“Harry, it’s okay.” I said softly. “I would have understood and I also would have had a very long talk with Louis about minding his own business, darling. You’re free to be with whoever you want and no one can tell you otherwise.”

“What if I want to be with my beautiful best friend, pea?” He reached up, brushing his thumb over my chin. “What if I want to be with the girl that stole my heart the moment I saw her?”

“Then make a fucking move, Styles.” I let out a breathy laugh as he leaned closer. “She won’t wait around forever. She’s a fucking catch and-”

Harry’s lips pressed into mine, cold and wet and perfect. 

I pressed my fingers into his shoulders, gripping his coat tightly with glove covered fingers. 

He tilted his head slightly, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of my lips. 

“You’re perfect, Piper.” His breath washed over my lips as I shuffled closer, desperately seeking his body heat. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.” I said. “Just be with me, H. Be mine.”

“I’ve always been yours, Piper.” He brushed the tip of his nose over mine. “Always will be.”

When Harry’s lips pressed to mine again, something wet landed on my cheek. 

We both pulled back, looking up at the sky with wide smiles. 

“Snow.” I said softly. 

“Christmas miracle isn’t complete with snow, is it?” He teased, brushing his nose against mine. 

“Shut up and kiss me.” 

                                                 🎄❄️🎄❄️🎄❄️

Harry’s POV 

Louis looked like a child who had just been told Santa wasn’t real when Piper and I walked back into the cafe holding hands. He shot me a soft look that said ‘mate, I’m really sorry for being a dickhead’ and I gave him a tight smile in response. We still needed to have a talk about everything, but there was no use in fighting over something that was in the past now. It felt good, sitting next to Piper as her boyfriend and not just her best friend. It was sudden and my mind was still reeling, but I wouldn’t want it any other way. I walked her back to her dorm that night with a pout on my lips and our fingers tightly laced together. 

“I don’t want to say goodbye, pea.” I mumbled, my thumb brushing against her cheek softly as we stood in front of her door. “Just got you.”

“You’ve always had me.” She snorted out a soft laugh. 

“Never been able to make out with you, though.” I wiggled my brows. “Think we can finally carry through on all that sexual banter we’ve been partaking in.”

“Yeah.” She said quickly, her cheeks getting pinker. “But not tonight, H. Think we should take some time apart to think about things before we jump right in. It’s going to be a bit different now and I need to get used to the idea.” 

“Take as much time as you need.” I pressed my lips to hers in a soft kiss. “I’ll be waiting.”

I was only slightly regretting my words now. 

Everyone had left for Christmas and we had the house to ourselves. 

We were in the middle of a movie marathon in the living room, a few bottles of wine and takeout boxes scattered on the coffee table as we snuggled into each other. Piper’s head rested on my chest and her fingers rested against my stomach, slightly drumming over the bit of holiday weight I had put on over the last week or so. She looked so cute all snuggled up in my sweater and a pair of fluffy sucks, my sweatpants tucked into them carelessly. 

“You’re thinking too loud.” She whispered, lifting her head up. “What’s going on in your head, H?”

“Just thinking about how cute you are.” I smiled down at her. “You’re all snuggled up in my clothes with your pretty hair and your pretty eyes. I just can’t believe that I’m lucky enough to call you my girl.”

Her eyes searched my face as I reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. 

“I want you.” She said softly. “But I’m scared.”

“I wasn’t…” I trailed off. “M’not trying to get in your pants, sweet pea. I just wanted you to know that I’m so in love with you.”

“And I’m in love with you.” She sat up. “And I would really, really like to show you how much I love you.”

“When you’re ready.” I said. “I know that you didn’t have the best first time and you’re a little nervous to dive back in, but I can wait. I want you to be one hundred percent ready when the time comes.”

She inhaled sharply before giving me a soft nod. 

“I love you.” I said, brushing my thumb over her bottom lip. “Get back over ‘ere, pea. Wanna snuggle you some more.”

                                               🎄❄️🎄❄️🎄❄️

Piper’s POV 

Harry was snoring softly in my ear on the couch. 

The sun had long gone down and the credits for The Holiday were rolling on the flatscreen in Harry’s living room. With a soft groan, I flipped around in his arms, nuzzling my face into his chest as he tightened his arms around me. The scent of his cologne filled my senses, nearly lulling me back to sleep. I was moments from falling back into dreamland when I felt something firm pressing between my thighs, causing my eyes to snap open. I pulled back to look at Harry’s face, his eyes still shut as he continued to softly snore. He was still fast asleep. 

I let out a soft gasp, my walls clenching down as I shifted against his thigh. I let out a soft gasp, my fingers tightening against his sweater as I stilled my hips. I tilted my head back, looking over his face as he slept peacefully. I didn’t want to wake him, but was done waiting. I wanted him. I wanted everything with Harry and I especially wanted to indulge passion filled moments with frantic hands and desperate kisses with a christmas film playing in the background. 

“Harry.” I said his name softly, my fingers trailing up his throat to cup his cheek. “Harry, baby, wake up.”

“S’wrong?” He asked, tucking his head down. “You alright?”

“I want you.” I said it softly, my heart pounding against my chest. “I’m ready.”

“Sweet pea, s’late.” He opened his eyes. “Are you sleep talkin’?”

“No.” I shook my head. “I mean it.” 

I rolled my hips, grinding my core against his thigh to really send the message through. 

“Piper.” He gasped, his eyes wide open. “Darling, what….what’re you doing?”

“Was trying to snuggle up to you and you put your thigh between my legs, H.” I said timidly, my face heating up under his gaze. His lips were curling into a soft smile and I bit the inside of my cheek. “It felt nice.”

“S’that why you want me?” He let out a breathy laugh, shaking his head. “Needy girl.”

“Please.” I whispered. “I need you.”

“I’ve got ye’.” He leaned down, pressing a series of soft kisses to my lips. “Gonna push your pants down, okay?”

I nodded, but she shook his head. 

“If we’re doing this, I want to hear you.” He said. “I need you to say what you want.”

“Take my pants off.” I griped, tilting my head back.

“Good girl.” 

Two little words.

They sent a shockwave through my body, running straight to my core. 

I let out a soft whimper as he pushed at the waistband of my pants. 

“M’too tired to fuck you.” He said softly. “But I promise to make you feel so good, sweet pea. Gonna have you cummin’ fo’ me.”

“Please.” 

I shifted my hips as he moved the waistband of my sweats to my thighs, his hand brushing up the skin of my leg to my hip. He gave it a soft squeeze as our lips collided and I squirmed beneath him. He pulled back, brushing his nose against mine with his eyes shut tight. 

“Do you want my fingers?” He asked me softly. 

“I do.” I nodded. “My fingers are too small and I can never get the angle right when I try.”

“Fuck, pea.” He groaned, opening his eyes. “You’re killing me, my love.”

“Just want to love you.” I pouted my bottom lip out. “Wanna feel good.”

“I know, darling.” He sponged a few soft kisses over my hairline. “Let me get on my back, okay. I want you to ride my fingers.”

Harry wrapped his arms around my body, turning onto his back. I fumbled, my chest pressed tightly to his as he let one of his hands trail over my bum. I whimpered when he tucked his fingers between the crease of my bum and my thigh, brushing the pads of his fingers over my lower lips. His other hand maneuvered its way between our bodies, his thumb brushing swiftly over my clit before it dipped towards my entrance. 

“S’this okay?” He asked. “You feel comfortable?” 

“Yes.” I nodded. “I’m good.” 

He inserted his thumb, pulling it out quickly before he slipped it back up to my clit. 

He rubbed soft circles over it as his fore and middle finger brushed over my entrance in a teasing manner. 

I rolled my hips, desperate to have them inside of me. 

“Yeah, just like that.” He said gruffly. “Ride my fingers, sweet pea. Take what you want from me.”

I gasped when he pushed two fingers into me, my slick walls stretching around them as I moved my hips. I pushed down as Harry curled his fingers up, stroking over that spongy spot inside of me. I moved my hips up, his fingers sliding out slowly before I fucked back onto them. He cooed, brushing the pad of his thumb over my clit in quick circles. 

“You’re so tight, Piper.” He whispered into my hairline as I gripped onto his shoulders. “You’re clenching my fingers so tight.”

“Feels so good, Harry.” I whimpered. “Wanna cum.”

“Are you close?” He asked, a teasing lilt to his voice. “My girl is so greedy, isn’t she? Gonna cum before I properly fuck her with my fingers becuase she wants it so bad, isn’t that right?”

“Yes.” I gasped against his throat. “I need to cum, Harry. It feels so good and I can’t...I need it, baby. Please let me cum.”

“Take it.” He said, sliding his free hand up to my hip. “Take it from me, Piper. Make yourself cum for me sweet pea.”

I felt my thighs clamping as he pressed harder against my clit, my hips stilling against his hand as he stroked that spongy spot inside of me. I felt my walls clenching down around his digits, my whole body warm as my mouth fell open. It was better than any orgasm I had ever experienced on my own and it had me crying out into the skin of his neck. He brushed his hand up my back, slowly slipping my fingers out as I started to come down. 

“You’re so good.” he whispered. “That was perfect, darling. Did so well for me, didn’t you, pea?” 

“That was nice.” I mewled. “Thank you, thank you-”

“Gonna treat you so good tomorrow, darling.” He promised, a sharp edge to his voice. “Gonna spend hours with my head between those pretty thighs and then I’m gonna fuck you like you want. Gonna have you screaming for me, sweet pea.”

I whimpered into his neck, nodding. 

“I want that.” I whispered. 

My eyes felt heavy as he started to pull my pants back up. 

“I love you so much, H.” I whispered, my eyes slipping shut as he covered me up. “Love you, darling.”

“I love you more, pea.” he whispered. “Go to sleep, baby. I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

I drifted off to the sound of Harry’s voice, my face snuggling into his shirt. 

This was all I ever needed. 

[hansolmates]

jjk; off-league

summary; you decide to do a little boudoir photoshoot for yourself—a little sexy lingerie, some bunny ears, maybe even a little nudity to make you feel more body positive about yourself. that little photoshoot doesn’t end up being for yourself anymore when you accidentally send those sexy pictures to your stupidly hot, stupidly talented childhood friend who you haven’t spoken to since middle school graduation.  pairing; photographer!jk x fem!reader genre/warnings; childhood friends to lovers!au, flangst, mutual pining, feelings of insecurity and body image, suggestive language, nudity  w.c; 6.2k a/n: i was feeling a lil meh about this fic after finishing it but a month later it finally makes its debut! for @btsghostiewritersnet​ BGW Bingo Bash! today’s trope is “childhood friends to lovers” which surprisingly isn’t a favorite of mine so it was definitely a challenge to write! 

“C’mon, I need your opinion. Deadass. Don’t just say shit to make me feel better.” 

“Gimmie those nudes, baby girl,” Johnny makes an impeccable fuckboy impersonation, making you feel a little squirmy to your stomach. 

It’s an hour away from being the ass-crack’o-dawn and your impromptu pin-up photoshoot just needs the sexy-star-of-approval from your best friend. Johnny Suh is also up for reasons unmentioned, but you had a feeling his pretty boyfriend is fifty percent of the reason. 

You look at yourself in the mirror, smoothing your frame against the black bodice of the sheer teddy. The only parts that are fully concealed are the parts that don’t matter. The sheer bodice reveals your pert nipples concealed by a thin black mesh, coupled with the deep V in the sweetheart neckline, accented by a little black bow in the dive of your highlighted cleavage. The silky a-line raceways to a set of black garters hugging your thighs, barely hanging onto a pair of lace thigh-highs. 

It doesn’t leave you butt naked, but enough to make you feel confident about yourself. These pictures are for you, and Johnny. And Johnny’s boyfriend if he’s being nosy. 

You tug off the silk bunny ears from your head, flinging it somewhere in your room. The wire started to dig in your brain, giving you a major headache. 

“Sending them now,” you hang up and start compiling the pictures in a folder on Google Drive. Once that’s done you copy the shareable link, sending it to Johnny’s number. It happens all so fast, and you feel kind of giddy. As you were posing for the camera, taking your time to find all the right angles, you felt good, you felt sexy in your little get up. Channeling your inner Ariana Grande was one of your childhood dreams, your fifteen year old self would be proud. 

Five minutes pass, fifteen, and by the twenty-five minute mark you’re pissed. What’s taking Johnny so long? 

Makeup scrubbed clean and face bare, you shuffle in your duvet, far too tired to be waiting up this long. Punching in his number once more, you cry, “Hey! Why haven’t you looked at them yet?” 

“What?” your friend’s voice sounds pebbly through the line. Was Johnny sleeping? “You never sent them!” he whines tiredly. 

“No, I definitely sent them!” you pull the phone away and keep Johnny on call, ready to prove him wrong. 

But to your surprise, the last message you sent to Johnny was this afternoon. 

The most recent message is to a person named John Kook. 

You scream. 

Johnny screams back at you with an equal amount of force, “What the fuck? Did someone break in? Are you being mobbed? See, this is why I wanted to put the baby monitor in your room—” 

“Worse!” you’re well prepared for any break in, but not for this. “I sent my pics to the wrong John!” 

“Well… is he at least cute?” 

“I mean, in the fourth grade he looked pretty cute with that front tooth missing,” you find your output of frustration, your bunny plush, pulling it by the ear and hitting it against the bed. “His name isn’t even John! It was just his English name for a silly project we did in middle school. This is so embarrassing, all I can picture is a twelve-year-old Jungkook mortified from sexual harassment. I basically sent him nudes!” 

“Tasteful nudes.” 

“I’m gonna die.” 

“He’s gonna die, of happiness.” 

Jeon Jungkook was a classmate from elementary through middle school. Time and time again was he the object of your affections, from the first grade at the roller rink to the speech he made at graduation. But really, who cares? You’re old and have a job, and it’s not like you’ve communicated with any of your former classmates. 

Your horror amplifies when the Delivered receipt is changed to Read 3:41AM. 

“Fuck! Fuck me with a fuckin’ fuck nugget he saw it!” you cry, “does he still have my number? What if he deleted my contact, would that be even weirder?” 

“Girl, stop.” Johnny sighs, and you can already picture him running his thumb between his brows. “This doesn’t change anything, alright? You two don’t know each other anymore. Block his number and go to sleep.” 

Johnny leaves you alone after that, and you’re left alone to mull over the implications of sending Jeon Jungkook your nude photoshoot. 

You do block his number, knowing that waiting for a reply would drive you nuts. The one thing that you do which is possibly worse, is look him up on Instagram. 

Of course, he’s stupid hot. 

He doesn’t seem to like being on the receiving end of the camera however, in favor of his timeline being filled with romantic shots of the beach and city. In between the picturesque views and watercolor sunsets do you see glimpses of him and his current life. You can’t help but smile when you see him with his brother and parents during his college graduation, easily towering over all of them. He looks tall with fluffy cocoa hair, big pearly whites gleaming proudly at the camera. He grew up well. 

To torture yourself even more, you even look through his story. Twelve hours ago, he was at the gym lifting weights. Normally, you’d be disgusted by people trying to show off their grunt faces drenched in sweat, but of course Jungkook has to have on a silly smile and pump his fist up after he deadlifts. The sweat clinging to his shirt is also a high plus. His gorgeous display of abs has your hands fluttering over your own belly. Maybe you need to exercise more. 

Four hours ago, you see him and a pretty woman with their cheeks squished together, using the puppy filter. Of course he has a girlfriend. 

Reluctant, you open up your Google Drive and scroll through your photoshoot. Deflated, you frown at the pictures that once made you beam with pride, picking at every little detail that bothered you. You really can’t believe you sent these to Jeon Jungkook, no longer a fourth grader with one front tooth, but a man way out of your league. 

By the time you will yourself to sleep, the sun peeks from the horizon, telling you to move on. 

“Hey Gyu,” you tiptoe over to the table much too small for Mingyu’s frame. The string bean is slumped over his iPad pro, drawing intently at some chibi OCs. “Got a plot for that one?” you ask, pointing at the little pink and blue creature decorating the screen. 

Mingyu grunts in reply, obviously engrossed. It isn’t until you slide him a matcha frappe from Starbucks that he becomes intelligible, muttering a “thank you” as he blends with his pen. 

Sensing that it’s going to be awhile before you get through to him, you take your usual rounds around the front desk and lobby of the cosy photo studio. There’s pretty pictures of Mingyu’s work, along with the other employees Minghao and Hoseok. Each section of the wall features a different taste of each person’s interest. Mingyu is a divine lover of soft bed sheets and hot tea, many of his photographs and paintings featuring cafes or perfectly messy beds you’ve seen on hotel advertisements. Minghao is a tasteful artisan, splotches of color retaliating against neutral backgrounds. Finally, Hoseok manages to find balance in the people, large cityscapes telling both large and small stories.

“Alright,” Mingyu’s deep voice forces you to curl your head, where he’s sipping at his drink with haste. “What’cha here for?” 

You frown, “Don’t you remember? I told you last week I’d be stopping by to get my photos developed,” you gesture to the Pentax in your hands, an heirloom from your great-aunt. While you did take digital photos for sending them to Johnny, the ones you wanted developed were taken side-by-side with the film camera. You figured that film would give a little more authenticity to your photoshoot. 

“Shit, that’s today?” the camera falls like deadweight, slapping against your sweater as you watch Mingyu frantically look through his digital calendar. He looks at you, dejected. “How many prints?” 

“I don’t know, maybe like six. Or eight?” 

“That’s gonna take too long, I’m heading down to Hidden Grounds for a vision meeting at two.” 

“Alright, I’m free all day. What about after?”

“Nah, you came all this way. I can just let the new guy help you.” and Mingyu makes a show of cupping his hands in the direction of the open hallway, “Yah, Jeon Jungkook! Get your cute ass out here!” 

The Pentax around your neck suddenly feels like weight akin to a two-ton boulder, and you surge forward, not caring that the corner of the table is digging into your belly. “Mingyu,” you garble, and Mingyu is shell-shocked by the desperation in your eyes. “Isn’t Minghao around or something? Or I can come back another time? These photos are really personal and I don’t feel comfortable having a stranger see them.”

“What? We’re professionals, don’t belittle us.” 

“No, seriously,” you whine, you tug at the collar of his denim jacket, noses practically touching. “These pictures are different. My tits are out and my legs are spread—”

“—interrupting something?” 

You hear some shuffling, and you turn around to see Jeon Jungkook’s back, comically turned to face the entrance. 

And damn, he did have a cute ass. Nothing is going to hide the glory in those jeans, absolutely nothing. 

“Hilarious,” Mingyu drawls, and you push him away. “Forget it, Kook. She doesn’t feel comfortable letting a stranger develop her photos.” 

Sensing that it’s safe to turn around, you watch as his black bangs flutter as he faces you. You hope your body language doesn’t betray how you’re really feeling, because you are a mere mortal and you’re weak in the presence of god-like figures. 

“Oh, what a relief then,” he smiles at you, and his voice sounds like honey. If there was malice or surprise in his tone, his good-natured expression betrays it. “Because I’ve known this friend since elementary school. We go way back.” 

You ignore the burn in the back of your head, as you are positive Mingyu knows you’re hiding something. 

“Really, what a coincidence.” Mingyu replies carefully, and you feel utterly stuck between these men and their banter, locked up like cream in an Oreo cookie. 

Nothing argues against Jungkook as he easily weaves through the thick wave of awkwardness, hands reaching out to touch your camera. “Wow,” he marvels, holding the object in his hands, “my dad has one of these.” 

“A-ha,” you take a step back, only to bump into the corner of the table, again. Ouch. “It’s okay, Jungkook. I’m actually busy today so I can come when Mingyu’s free–”

“Oh, I thought you were free all day,” Mingyu drawls, looking up through his lashes as he sips languidly at his drink. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Jungkook says good-naturedly, as if Mingyu just didn’t out you. “We got a lot of catching up to do anyway, c’mon.” 

Jungkook moves to place a hand in the small of your back and that’s enough to get you to rev up. Refusing to let any contact get between the two of you, you zip ahead down the familiar hallway, turning your head to catch Mingyu grinning with all canines, shooing you with his fingers like a puppy. 

You send Mingyu a stream of “fuck yous” into his inbox for later, unwilling to settle with this curse. Busying yourself with your phone, you avoid eye contact with Jungkook until you reach the dark room. The red light turned off at the top of the doorhenge signals that the room is not in use. Jungkook makes a move to open the door and that’s when you pounce, blocking the doorway with your small body. It’s comical, really. 

Jungkook raises a brow at you, but says nothing. 

“I really can wait, Jungkook,” you steel yourself, forcing a sympathetic smile. “I’m sure your girlfriend wouldn’t like you developing my pictures—”

It’s then that his pretty cupid’s bow unfurls into a full-fledged grin. “Girlfriend... you’ve been keeping tabs on me?” 

“Fuck, well I had to!” your face is as red as the dark room’s alert light, now on because Jungkook flicked the switch and he’s between your arm to unlock the door. Your hand brushes his as you both reach the knob. “I’m really really sorry I sent those pictures. They were for Johnny—you remember Johnny Suh from English class? And I saved you in my contacts as “John Kook” so it was an honest mess up.” 

Jungkook hums, so light that the breathiness in his chords flutters your grip on the knob. He forces the door ajar, and you’re left to follow him in the dark room, cluttered with solutions and fancy equipment. 

“Thought so,” Jungkook shrugged, giving a one-over at the materials in the room, mulling over his next steps in developing your film. 

You’re still petrified at the doorway, holding your Pentax between both hands like a lifeline. Jungkook’s head lols to you, and you get a pretty view of the way his bangs brush over his forehead, Adam’s Apple bobbing. His expression is a little tired, but overall unreadable. He sighs your name, lethargic. 

“We’re already here, so might as well get this done,” he gestures to the camera in your vice grip. “Do you wanna pick the shots or do you want me to?” 

He’s already seen the digitals, what’s so different about getting a couple prints? With a slight pout you drag your feet over to him, relinquishing your camera. “I’m thinking you have a better eye for this than I do.” 

“You think right.” 

You fight the urge to roll your eyes. Cocky, but what you’ve seen on Instagram definitely justifies his sentiment. Jungkook pays no mind to you, busying his hands with the various containers in front of him, measuring the solutions for the developer, stopper, and fixer. You were always entranced by the process of developing film, especially in highschool where their photography club holed themselves in the darkroom like a secret lair. 

“Alright,” he pops open the canister, carefully laying out sections of the film in groups of four. “Want me to pick a random one for a tester?” 

You frown, “At least put some thought into it.” 

“Always,” it looks like he already decided way before he popped the question, immediately taking a negative and placing it in the carrier. 

His fingers are nimble as he takes the time to clean off the dust and any debris that could potentially ruin the image. Then he turns off the lights and begins the process. You dive around him, trying to keep your distance but still too curious to leave his side. If he’s annoyed he fails to show it, in favor of humming whatever song comes from his Echo Dot. 

You always got the solos in choir. You wanted to reminisce, but you’re too nervous to say it out loud. 

Even though it’s his job and he’s being a professional, you romanticize the experience, watching as he carefully puts the print in each liquid process. Your image blooms to life, and you feel your stomach churn as the photo develops before your eyes. 

After a final dip in the solution stopper, he places the first product in a bath of water. Even though you are mere centimeters away, you can clearly see the image of you swimming around the container. 

“Alright!” Jungkook hangs the finished picture on a pastel pink clothespin, tacking it in place. “Whaddya think?” 

Your breath catches in your throat, feeling heavy as you look at the image of you reflected in the glossy paper. You’re perched on your bed, a hand splaying between your legs as the other hand toys with the silk bunny ears. You’re leaned slightly, giving an ample view of your cleavage. However, the image of you is definitely different from being blown up in comparison to the negatives, and you squirm uncomfortably at your full display. 

“I look,” you bite your tongue, internally debating whether you like it or not. Not to spare Jungkook the theatrics you shrug, “It’s good.”  

The lack of enthusiasm seems to dissatisfy Jungkook however, as he has to take a double take and look back and forth between the image and the real thing. “What’s wrong with it, do you think Johnny’ll not like it?” 

“What?” you furrow your brows, breaking into a nervous laugh. “Johnny has a boyfriend. I just wanted his opinion. This photoshoot is for me, y’know? Just something to make me feel good about myself.” 

Jungkook’s lips morph into a little ‘o’, and you see a little bit of the child you once knew in the way he’s mulling over the situation. 

“Then can I give you my honest opinion?” Jungkook clips off the half-dried photo, holding it between you two. “Stop thinking so hard about every little thing you don’t like about yourself. If I was your boyfriend and you gifted this to me, I’d be creaming my pants. You look fucking sexy, all grown up since you cried in the fourth grade.” 

You’ve just been flung a litany of words you have no brain capacity to digest. Along with that, the immense heat you didn’t know you’ve been suppressing surges to your belly, low and simmering. Jungkook stares at you in earnest, despite his sudden gush of honesty, you don’t know what to say. There’s a dash of pink staining his cheeks, betraying the confidence he previously displayed. He stiffens when you don’t reply immediately and moves to clean his materials, his sudden bout of bold honesty quickly shrinking. 

“Y-you know,” you look down at your feet, “the only reason why I cried in the fourth grade was because you told me Santa wasn’t real.” 

Jungkook softens, tilting his head. “Sorry about that.” 

“Thanks though,” you gently reach for the photo in Jungkook’s grasp, looking at it without contempt. “But won’t your girlfriend be upset if she knew you were saying things like this about someone else?” 

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Well, if you looked through the rest of my Instagram story,” Jungkooks cards a hand through his already mussed hair, splitting the ends. “You would see that she’s not my girlfriend, but my tattoo artist.” 

For added measure, he wiggles his fingers in front of you, revealing pretty ink and silver bands across his knuckles.

“Oh,” your voice is feather light, and you’re sure you’re drooling as you stare far too long at the letters that mark his hands, curious as to what they symbolize. 

“So, as a singleton telling another singleton,” he continues, “I know it’s meaningless if you don’t believe it yourself, but I’m telling you, you’re attractive.” 

“Thanks,” you hold the picture tightly in your grasp, eyes flickering to the negatives in the room ready to be galvanized into a full-fledged picture. “Why don’t we wrap this up, huh? We can continue another time.” 

If he notices how much the paper wilts in your grasp, he doesn’t comment on it. “Are you sure? I know it takes a lot of time, but I don’t mind.” 

“I’m sure,” you force a smile, one hand on the lightswitch. “I’ll let you know when I’m ready, okay?” 

Jungkook swallows, nodding mechanically. “Okay.” 

“It was really nice seeing you, Kook.” you blurt before you could chicken out, letting the room bask in darkness a little longer so he can’t see your flustered state. “I’m not even going to downplay it, you look great.” 

You half-expect a cocky remark, or a little chest pumping from the compliment. At the sound of his nickname however, 4th grade Jeon Jungkook resurfaces and he shoves his hands in his pockets. “Like I said, so do you,” he replies easily, sending you a soft smile and opening the door for you. 

The door closes shut behind you and you exhale, patting your cheeks and willing for the chilly air to calm you down. 

When you get home that day, you shuck off all your clothes and crawl into bed. You cry out when the metal framing of your bunny ears stabs you in the back, and you fling it to some unmentionable part of the room. You reach for a bag of half-opened sour gummy worms, flipping open your MacBook to continue streaming the soft magical girl anime you’ve been hooked on these past few weeks. 

Not even Sailor Uranus can distract you; however, by the time it’s dark and you’ve run out of distractions, you finally pull the plug and unblock Jungkook from your list of contacts. 

Your phone buzzes, the incessant vibration relaying all the messages you’ve missed. 

[March 12th, 3:53AM]

You: https://drive.google.com/drive/u/1/folders/0343…

John Kook: ??? 

John Kook: you probably sent this to me by accident… sorry i clicked on it

John Kook: is it weird if i said you’ve done a massive glow up since the middle school dance?

[March 12th, 12:02 PM]

John Kook: are u mad

John Kook: you’re mad

John Kook: am i makin this weird by continuing to text you

John Kook: im making it weird. 

[March 31st, 6:24 PM]

John Kook: https://drive.google.com/drive/u/1/folders/049…

You tilt your head at the folder link, it was sent only a few hours ago. With a click, you’re enlightened to a set of digital photos. Your photos from your photoshoot, but not quite. They’ve been expertly edited, not too much to distort your looks, but only to enhance your features. A small, barely there smile creeps from your subconscious, ultimately touched by the gesture. 

John Kook: sorry if i pushed too hard today. 

Guilt overrides your nerves, prompting you to immediately press the call button on his contact. Not to your surprise, Jungkook’s light voice calls your name through the line after the second ring. 

“Don’t be sorry,” you blurt, forgoing the hellos. “It was the right amount of push, I feel better, really. If anything, I’m sorry. I blocked your number because I was scared to read your reaction.” 

You hear him sigh along the line, and you feel that breath ripple through your nerves, as if he’s right next to you. “It’s fine, I would’ve done the same thing.” 

“The pictures you just sent, they’re really beautiful. You did a good job.” 

“Thanks, I had a bit of help. I didn’t have to do much.” 

“Oh, did Mingyu come back from his meeting?” 

"No, I uh," Jungkook chuckles, and while you don't really know why, the sound is nonetheless pleasant. “It was mostly the lighting and coloring I fixed up. Didn’t need to do much since you already looked so pretty as it is.” 

You choke on your saliva. 

“You okay?”

“Y-yeah,” you cough, “just choked on a snack I was eating.” he hums in reply, and you pray he doesn’t hear your stomach fervently retort that you haven’t eaten since lunch. “So, I think I’m up for developing more of the film. When can I drop by?” 

“I’m free Saturday,” Jungkook chirps, “I have a shoot until noon but you can come anytime after that.” 

“Sounds good, I’ll be there,” you clutch the phone with both hands. “I can bring lunch. What do you like to eat?” 

“Oh, you don’t have to do that.”

“I’m already buying for Minghao,” you lie, “do you like burgers?” 

“I can’t say no to a good burger,” Jungkook’s smile feels almost palpable against the line, “do you remember our field trip to the national museum of history? We had burgers on the street!” 

“Oh, those were so good,��� you moan, fuzzy memories of a middle grade field trip resurfacing to clarity, “but you ate like, ten of them!”

“I still get nightmares,” he warns, “don’t let me go to bed like this.” 

You giggle, letting your body meld further into your warm mattress. “Maybe I’ll just show up with ten burgers for you tomorrow.” 

“I’ll throw up on you, try me.” 

Minghao’s adjusting the frames on their display wall by the centimeter, and it’s pissing him off. 

“Ah, it’s off,” he mutters to himself when you walk in, indicated by the electronic bell. He turns to you briefly, pulling a leveler out of his overall pocket. “Doesn’t this look off?” 

“Uh,” you look towards Mingyu at the front desk, who is paying no mind as he continues scribbling on his iPad. You tilt your head towards your former college classmate. “It doesn’t look off from over here?” 

Tacking the leveler on one of the frames, he whines, “It’s five degrees off.” 

Mingyu puts his pen down to reach over the counter and grab the paper from your hands, steaming with the scent of fast food, “He’s been like this for hours, don’t mind him.” 

He doesn’t even ask whether the food is his, Mingyu sees grease and he claims. Reaching for an oil-wrapped parchment, he unfolds the paper to reveal a handsome burger with all the fix-ens. 

Barely satisfied, Minghao steps away from the art display. There is a sizable gap in the display, now divided between four artists instead of three. You wonder how Jungkook’s work will look amongst the other artists. 

“Cute ‘fit.” Minghao mumbles, nodding approvingly at your clothes as he digs into the bag for his own burger. 

You send a half-smile his way. If an outfit is Minghao-approved, that means you’ve gone above and beyond. At least, you tried to play it off like you didn’t try to look cute. It’s not like you’re intimidated by Jungkook, living with a major fifteen-year glow up. After all, he’s already seen more than you can imagine. 

Mingyu takes notice, eyes going south to where your white blouse meets your cleavage. You hurl a fry at his face, “Eyes up here, perv.” 

He scrunches his nose, lifting a greasy thumb to slide a manila envelope over to you. “Here’s the developed pictures. Intercepted Kook and I finished them this morning.” 

You frown, “Jungkook’s not done with his photoshoot yet?” 

“Oh, he’s been done.” Mingyu’s eyes roll back to one of the studios. “But I’m saying is, you got what you needed. So you can leave if you want,” but he grins at you, canines so sharp you feel his stare jabbing you in the proverbial neck. “Unlesssss you want to go in and say hi.” 

If he has any inkling of what’s going on in your head, it’s definitely confirmed when your face turns hot. Damn body, you’re betraying me! With a flourish you grab the fries from under Mingyu’s nose, along with whatever’s left in the fast food bag. 

Minghao’s smiling through his burger, knowing if he pulls any type of savagery his lunch would certainly be pulled from under his chin. 

“Whatever you’re thinking, drop it or the burger will be going in your ass instead of out.” You mean to sound menacing, but the Min-squared and their boisterous laughter follow you down the hallway and into the occupied studio. 

“Hey Jungkoo—wow.”

You’re sure you look like Alice, enthralled by the little wonderland she just stepped into. The set is beautiful, right out of a fairytale. It has a very old-romance vibe, like Morticia and Gomez Addams. There lay a couch made of the darkest, richest wood, with velvet red cushions covering the body. Across the floor laid hundreds of black rose petals, blanketing the floor in a sea of ebony. 

“It’s for a wedding, gothic themed.” Jungkook supplies helpfully, still fiddling with whatever he was looking on his digital camera. He’s looking utterly soft in a matching grey sweat combination, something that would easily disgust you during high school, but unfairly works with him. 

“The shoot must’ve been beautiful.” 

“It was.” 

“I uh, got this for you.” Your fingers start to sweat from clutching the bag so hard, and you place it on his work table. 

He finally looks up from his camera, giving you a wan smile. “I thought you got those for Minghao.” 

You mentally slap your cheeks, trying to ignore the way his smile made your stomach do somersaults. “He got his own. Your portion has a cookie in it, so.” 

His cute teeth unveil themselves at the mention of sweets, and you can’t help but smile back at the familiarity. 

The two of you take your time in enjoying your lunch, not meaning to stay but the very back of your mind hoping he’d like to share a meal with you. After all, Mingyu and Minghao are probably at the front relishing in your very obvious attraction. What can you say, first crushes never die. 

Between sips of your milkshake, you’ve taken to flipping through Jungkook’s portfolio. There’s a myriad of different subjects: beaches, people, the occasional squirrel. Each section of the portfolio feels like you’re being transported to a new side of Jungkook and his artistry, and you ached to know more. 

“Wow,” you point at an action shot of two girls in a dance studio, “this duo looks like Chungha and Hyoyeon.” 

He swallows his (second) burger, having the audacity to sink sheepishly in his sweater. “It is Chungha and Hyoyeon.” 

You nearly choke on your cookie. “That’s amazing.” you say breathlessly, looking closer at the image. In fact, the beautiful women photographed are famed hip-hop choreographers Chungha and Hyoyeon. You can’t imagine how good Jungkook must be to manage a photoshoot with them. 

As proud as you are of Jungkook, it reminds you that since middle school you two have lived completely different lives. You wonder if Jungkook gets these kinds of gigs all the time, hanging around with gorgeous, talented people like himself.

Jungkook says your name once, twice. He looks at you concerned, and you’re melting in his large carmine eyes. If he notices your usual overthinking, he doesn’t say anything, and gestures to the section at the end of his portfolio. “This isn’t my best work, but it’s one of my favorites.” 

There’s something familiar about this set. A playground with a busted swing set. Children riding on bikes and colorful class shirts. Ice cream melting on fists. 

Thirteen-year-old you hanging on top of your middle school’s leafless tree, clutching your baseball cap as you shade yourself from the sunset. 

“Was this the first time you took pictures?” you ask, thumbing the picture of yourself. 

“Yeah. It’s when I decided it’s what I wanted to do the rest of my life.” 

“I know we didn’t know each other that well and we’ve only recently connected but,” you give him a shy smile, “I’m really proud of what you’ve grown up to be, Jungkook.” 

He looks like you’ve hung him the moon and stars, his half-eaten burger loosening in his grasp. His lips are parted cutely, like a kitten who’s just been offered a fresh glass of milk. You cough at the sudden pause in conversation, feeling self-conscious of your impulse confession. You don’t even have it in you to be disgusted when Jungkook hastily shoves the second half of his burger down his throat, tips of his ears pink. 

Leaving him be, you press a palm to your cheek, looking at the wedding set. 

Jungkook downs half a water bottle before he speaks again. “Y’know, it would be a shame to clean up this set already. It was kind of expensive.” 

“Yeah,” you echo, standing up and kicking off your slippers. You kick your feet in the air, watching the black petals kiss across your ankles.

“I have an idea,” he wipes his hands on his sweats, “why don’t you go back home and get an outfit you really like. Lingerie, a cute outfit, whatever. Let me give you a photoshoot you’d love.” 

You look up from your petal dance, balking. “Jungkook! That’s not necessary, I told you the photos I took were okay.” 

“Yeah but, you didn’t seem entirely happy. C’mon, I got a camera and a beautiful set. Why waste it?” his hands naturally gravitate towards his charging camera, already turning it on. “I can do lighting, I know all your good angles. What’s stopping us?” 

Really, what’s stopping you? Your hands fiddle with your open flannel, the soft material comforting you as you look across the set. You try to imagine yourself, your body draped across the velvet pillows and black petals. Would it look good? Would you feel good? You think back to how you felt the first time, how scared you were when someone other than Johnny would be looking at your photos. You remember how something weird and sour contorted in your stomach when you scrolled through Jeon Jungkook’s Instagram, no longer the little boy you knew but a man who could have everything he wanted—

“Stop thinking about it.” Jungkook suddenly snaps, and you break from your reverie to catch him looking upset. It’s been awhile since you’ve seen him like that. 

“Thinking about what?”

“Thinking that you’re out of my league.”

“Excuse me?” 

“You were like this the other day too,” and he looks sad, and puts his camera down to come closer to you. “Why are you feeling this way. Is it me?” 

“Not necessarily,” you huff, hugging yourself.

“Do you not feel beautiful? Do you not like your body?” 

“No, I do.” you say to yourself, and you mean it. Even though there will inevitably be days where you may not feel one-hundred percent positive about yourself, you know at the end of the day, you love you and all its parts. “I don’t know, Jungkook. I had no problem letting Mingyu develop the photos originally, because he knew me in college and I was already sure of myself back then. But I guess when I sent them to you, I felt like I did when I was a little girl, y’know? Going through puberty, and worrying about what other people think.” 

And it’s not like Jungkook teased you or made you feel lesser of yourself. In fact, Jungkook was the student you wanted to be when you were younger. Someone sweet and caring, and unabashedly confident about himself. 

“I guess seeing you so successful and the fact that my stupid childhood crush came back from a time where I always felt low, made me feel a little insecure again.” 

Something sinks in and you feel hyper aware of how crushed Jungkook looks at your declaration. “There’s no leagues, you got that?” he says quietly, walking so close that he’s hovering over you, sneakers brushing. “I get it. I get unsure and insecure just like you. Hell, I was nervous this morning, wondering if you’d really come. We may not feel insecure over the same things, but middle school wasn’t that great for me either.” He makes a funny face, and you feel a smile twitch across your lips. “But it’s okay. Because we’re human and we grow. But now, you are successful. You’ve grown from your time growing up and you’re a wonderful, powerful person. I’m proud of you too.” 

“I know,” you mumble, leaning your forehead against his chest. His arms wrap around you in response, holding you snug.

“And for the record, I thought you were the most beautiful person in the world in fourth grade. Even though my world was pretty small back then, I can say now that what I thought back then still stands true.” 

You look up from his embrace, where he’s leaning down to press a slow, cotton soft kiss to your forehead. He backs up a little to read your face, and you give a tiny nod in response to signal it’s okay. Jungkook exhales in contentment, relaxing against your frame. 

“Thanks, Kook,” you crack a smile, feeling your insecurities slowly evaporate. You feel better, light, knowing that these negative feelings are only temporary, and you’re not alone. Being in Jungkook’s arms, an honest boy turned man you’ve known all your life, it feels almost like home. 

You two stay like this for a while. Exchanging feather-like kisses, feeling irrevocably young and hopeful. Suddenly feeling emboldened, you tug him by the strings of his hoodie to press a long, hot kiss to his lips. There’s a stutter, and you’re pretty sure Jungkook choked on his saliva at the sudden change of pace but you continue, letting Jungkook catch up and follow your lead. 

“Wow,” Jungkook pulls away and his lips are shiny and flushed. Adorable. You think 7th grade Jungkook would be rolling in his Naruto sheets if he knew you two would inevitably end up together. Conversely, 7th grade you would be squealing in your kitten plushie, proud that you managed to nab your childhood crush to live out all the fantasies you’ve imagined since the 4th grade. 

“Jungkook,” you let your flannel fall to the floor in a heap, only leaving your baby blue top in a thin ruched camisole. “I think I want to do the photoshoot. Can’t pass up these pretty petals, y’know?” 

He runs a hand through his hair, gaping. “Really?” 

“Yeah,” you press a wet kiss to his neck, “anyway you want me, baby. Full creative control. I want you to like this as much as I do, okay?” 

With the permission to hold the wheel, Jungkook’s lightheaded and spinning. His eyes rake up and down your gorgeous form, wondering how many good deeds he’s done in his past life to earn a right just as this. 

“In that case,” he presses a palm to your shoulder, pushing you to sit along the velvet cushion, “strip for me.” 

[orphaned-kiirokero]

Emacity (PJM)

Emacity: The desire or fondness of buying

Part of the “Protect the Village!” Oneshot Series!

Masterlist

Pairing: DeliveryBoy!Jimin x Reader

Genre: Fluff, Romance, mutual pining (kinda) 

Note: April will be my hibernation month lol

Summary: Whoever invented online shopping? A genius. Whoever hired Park Jimin to be the town’s delivery boy? An even bigger genius.

Word Count: 2.2k

      You wouldn’t call yourself a shopaholic. It’s not like you had an addiction to the point of needing an intervention. You knew what was a dumb purchase and what was a personal purchase. You actively searched high and low for coupons and discounts. You never bought something that you knew would end up in the garbage after one use. You were a responsible shopper. But shopping was like a hobby. 

      You were lucky enough to have the money to spoil yourself. You worked a well-paying job as a translator for businesses that are trying to branch out to new countries while also offering online language classes to international students. Switching between Korean, English, Spanish, AND French usually gave you a headache. And trying to translate a word that didn’t really exist in other languages was exhausting, but it paid well. 

And it gave you opportunities to see Jimin. 

      Park Jimin, Bangtan Village’s delivery boy. Worked at the post office seemingly 24/7 and is always voted employee of the month. Has a smile that’s permanently painted on his face and is as kind as a saint. What’s not to love about him? Besides that fact that his eyes sparkle with the same elegance as polished amber. Or the fact that his skin is perfectly smooth. Or that he emits an aura of confidence and stability. 

      Not that you know, but you can feel it. You and Jimin exchanged few words on the occasions when you get to see him. Simple, “Hey! How are you?” ’s and “Long time no see!” ‘s. But each word that reaches your ears are pieces of gold to you. You and Jimin didn’t really know each other, but you’d like to say that if you waved to him out in town, he’d wave back. 

      Your friend, Namjoon, liked to call you a lovesick idiot. Whenever you gushed to him about how Jimin smiled at you, he’d shake his head and say, “You’re a hopeless romantic and it’s tiring to me,” And today was like no other. 

      “I’m telling you, Namjoon! He has the cutest smile,” You sighed, watching your best friend work on his current project, Yoongi’s car. “I know, you’ve told me several times before,” He groaned, lifting his head from the machinery under the hood and looking at you with an unimpressed look. Absentmindedly wiping off his oily hands on his black stained hand towel. 

     “Why don’t you just talk to the dude? You know several languages yet you can’t communicate to a boy who speaks your native language?” He pointed out, leaning his hip up against the black car. “I may be able to chew you out in French, but I don’t speak ‘extrovert’” You argued back, a sly smirk on your face. 

    Namjoon rolled his eyes with a small smile, “You’re impossible,” He chuckled, “But you really should talk to him. You never know~ He may think you’re cute too~” He teased, dodging the spare hand towel you threw at him. “Stop teasing!” You whined, “You know I can’t, I’ll make a fool of myself and end up confessing to him in Spanish or something,” You groaned, slumping in your seat. 

     Namjoon tilted his head in confusion, “How do you accidentally switch to a whole other language,” He asked. “Trust me... It’s happened before...” You cringed, shivering at the less-than flattering memory. “Well... Maybe you should express it non-verbally?” He suggested, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly as he went back to tampering with Yoongi’s car. 

      “I appreciate your advice, Joon, but I don’t think I can even work up the courage to confess, verbally or not.” You sighed, giving Namjoon a somber look to which he responded with a comforting smile. Namjoon went back to work and you checked the time on your phone. 2:22pm. 

    “Shoot, I gotta go,” You said, standing up and grabbing your bag. “Why? I thought you didn’t teach on Wednesdays?” Namjoon asked, still working on the car. “I don’t but, I’m expecting a package,” You smiled to yourself. “You memorized when Jimin comes to deliver your packages? That’s kinda creepy Y/n,” Namjoon insinuated, squinting his eyes at you.

     You gasped, “Is not! I’ve just noticed that he always comes around 3pm... and I want to be there when my new keyboard comes.” You crossed your arms in defence. “Mhmm, go on then,” Namjoon chuckled, and you stomped your way out of his workshop back to your house. 

     You wait anxiously for a knock on your door. You sit on the couch, fiddling with the blanket that was draped over your lap. If you were being honest with yourself, you were more excited about seeing Jimin than getting your new peach-pink keyboard to complete your soft pastel desk setup. 

      You knew Namjoon was right about you being a lovesick idiot; you were in deep, and you haven’t even hung out with the man! You scoffed to yourself, shaking your head at the way his smile made your heart rate pick up and palms clammy. Maybe you could take Namjoon’s advice and invite him on a date. Not necessarily come completely clean and admit you were head over heels, but ease your way in instead.

Only problem is, you didn’t quite know how to do that...

      The long awaited knock finally sounded through your tiny house, and you stood up quicker than you should as blood rushed to your head, making you feel dizzy. Shaking it off, you go over to your door, opening it to reveal the very man you’ve been wanting to see all day. “Hey! What’s up Y/n?” Jimin greeted you with a smile, a small brown package under his arm. 

     “Hi Jimin, I’m doing good... What about you?” You asked, leaning up against the doorway. “I’m good, it’s a nice day out today,” He sighed, handing the package out for you, “Here you go! Your weekly package,” He joked, making you give him a lovesick smile that made you look like the woozy emoji. “T-Thanks,” You chuckled nervously. 

      “No problem,” Jimin said. “Hey um Jimin...” You called before he could walk away. “Yes?” Jimin inquired, raising an eyebrow. Shoot, what do you say? You didn’t think this through you.. You can’t just invite him out like a normal human, what if he says no? “I um- What’s your... favorite food...?” You asked, cringing at how pathetically shy you sounded. Jimin’s eyebrows knit together in confusion and he chuckled. “I like strawberry Pocky’s a lot,” He stressed, licking his lips at the thought. 

     You nodded, writing that down in your head for later. Maybe you could do something with this. “Cool, cool. Well, um, have a nice day!” You said, walking back into your house, package in hand, leaving Jimin confused and amused. “What a girl...” He whispers to himself, smile, like always, never leaving his face. 

     You continue to buy little things online just as an excuse to talk to Jimin. Who needs a mini cactus? You, apparently. And that chick plush you saw on Instagram? Boom, it now lives on your bed. Whenever he comes around, you take the opportunity to ask him questions like what his favorite color was or if he was allergic to anything. 

    You were planning something for him, and he was catching on. Sure, your questions were usually unprompted, but he’d humor you any day of the week. He may not know exactly what you were planning, but all he hoped was that it would change his life forever. And it would. 

     You were almost done with Jimin’s mini basket of favorites. A blue basket that held his favorite snack foods, stickers from his favorite shows, and some of those chunky rings he likes. Sure, maybe it was a bit excessive. Maybe this was teetering the line of weird and sweet, and you knew that bribing your way into a relationship was definitely not the way to go. But you just wanted to be nice. 

     Maybe buying things for others was your love language, or maybe Jimin was just worth spoiling. It was probably both. Whatever the real answer was, it didn’t matter to you. You just wanted Jimin to be happy. 

     Even if meticulously fiddling with the basket made you want to pull your hair out as the bow never looked quite right. Realistically you know it wouldn’t matter in the end and that Jimin would likely take the bow off after he received it, but you still adjusted it until it was perfect. 

     “Yeah, yeah, laugh all you want, Joon,” You sighed as you heard Namjoon hysterically laughing on the other side of the phone. “You’re going to bribe him into going on a date with you?” He asked, out of breath. “No! I just want to be nice,” You bit back, rolling your eyes even if Namjoon couldn’t see you. “Wow, the irony of Jimin delivering the gifts that your going to end up giving back,” Namjoon chuckled, finally calming down. 

     “Look, I’m just trying to follow your advice,” You whined, finally giving up on the navy blue bow and leaving it be. “True, I was thinking about a banner or something though. Like a cheesy promposal,” Namjoon said, and you could hear the undertones in his words. What he really wanted to say was, “How dramatic could you be? This is too much honey,” 

     Groaning, you flopped down on your couch, mumbling into the cushions. “I think I’m going to give it to him today, I have another mini cactus coming today,” You said, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness swirl in your stomach at the thought of finally asking the man you’ve been pining over out on a date. “That’s great! He’ll definitely say yes,” Namjoon said excitedly, trying to keep your fragile spirits intact. Knowing that if anything goes wrong, you’ll chicken out immediately. 

     “Yeah, I can do this,” You smiled, looking at the clock on your oven. “It’s 2:30, I have to go prepare. I’ll call you after!” You said, exchanging your goodbyes with Namjoon and hanging up the phone to go clean yourself up a little bit. 

    You weren’t terribly worried about your appearance. Jimin had seen you in coffee stained sweats and hoodies. There wasn’t anything worse than that. So you opted for a simple t-shirt and legging combo, washing your face and touching up your hair a bit. “Now to wait,” You whispered to yourself as you sat on the couch with the basket in your lap. 

     While you waited on the couch for Jimin to arrive, you looked at the mini cactus that sat on your coffee table and chuckled. Usually you bought things that may seem random to an outside person. A mouse that looks like a cat's paw, a throw pillow that doubles as a blanket, random earrings. But never a mini cactus. 

     After you asked all the questions you could think of and bought everything that you thought Jimin would like, you didn’t have an excuse to keep seeing Jimin. So, like a normal person, you bought little knickknacks. Hence the mini cactus and it’s new friend that’s on the way today. 

Knock knock knock

“Well, your new buddy’s here lil’ cactus dude,” 

     Taking a deep breath, you stood up and walked over to the door, hiding the basket behind your back. “Hello, Y/n,” Jimin smiled as you opened the door for him. “Hey,” You smiled back, tightening your grip on the basket behind you. “Here you go, another odd stationary?” Jimin guessed as he held out the package for you and you took it with one hand, placing it down behind the door.

      “I guess you could say that,” You chuckled, nervously shifting on your feet. “Speaking of... I have something for you,” You mumbled, but loud enough for Jimin to hear. “Is it another impromptu question? You haven’t asked one in awhile,” He chuckled, his cute eyes upturning into crescents.

“Close your eyes to find out,” You said.

“Close my eyes? Is this the part where you murder me?” Jimin teased, causing you to playfully roll your eyes. 

“No... just close them,” You whined. 

      “Alright, I’ll close them,” Jimin relented, closing his eyes at your request. Taking another shaky deep breath, you took the basket out from behind your back and held it in front of you. “Open...” You whispered. 

      Once Jimin opened his eyes, he let out a cute gasp, eyes lighting up at the sign of the gift. “W-What’s this?” He asked, looking up at you with a huge smile on his face. “It’s um, all your favorites. Jimin’s basket of favorites,” You declared, holding the basket out for Jimin to take, which he happily did. “Y/n, this is amazing. What’s the special occasion?” He asked, looking down at the assorted gifts and snacks. 

      “You’re always making me smile, so I wanted to return the favor,” You shrugged in an attempt to look casual about it. “Really? I make you smile?” Jimin smirked, making your cheeks heat up. “Y-Yeah you do...” You admitted, kicking at the rocks on your porch. “You’re such a sweet girl, Y/n, cute too,” Jimin whispered to you, causing your breath to hitch. 

“C-Cute?” 

“Yep, you’re a cutie,” Jimin said, booping your nose.

“Would you um... Let this cutie ask you out to lunch?” You asked. 

“Most definitely,”

“Park Jimin, do you want to grab lunch sometime?”

“It’s a date, cutie,”

[koutaroulogy]

the somnial effect . iwaizumi h.

genre: a mix of angst and fluff

warnings: paen <3 even more paen <3

details: post timeskip! a hint of mutual pining

note: part two coming soon ♡

word count: 400+ -i never keep track of my word count

(listen to ben&ben's 'lifetime' for better experience)

Iwaizumi Hajime had volleyball-player kind of hands- rugged, calloused from all the spiking he had to do as the ace of the team.

No one could imagine that the athletic trainer was actually a lucid dreamer immersed in paintings and museums, not even his annoyingly-loud best friend who was on the other side of the world.

He'd rather let it stay that way.

The brunette stared complacidly at the half-finished painting on the once pristine canvas.

It was a good dream, he pursed his lips, trying to imagine cupid-bow kissers on top of painted skin. Gripping the brush he had dipped into the porcelain cup of water, Hajime dabbed it onto the smooth canvas with bronze and peach colors for skin shading and pink blossoms resembling lips.

A lone paper plane watched him from its place on the balcony table- wondering what he could've been making that made his eyes flutter and his lips curl upwards.

When he was finished, Iwaizumi held the easel- with canvas and all- up to a blank space by an unoccupied wall.

Disregarding the mess of papers, tissues and scattered dietary plans, he sat on the floor despite the mess and looked straight at the picture he had painted.

The portrait stared back at him with spangled stars in her eyes, the shine in her hair and lips beckoning to him teasingly to come hither.

The expression on the woman however, was full of love- mirroring the expression of the artist who could only gaze.

Hajime smiled- masterpieces mean nothing without its meaning.

Droplets of rain tapped lightly against the window pane as Iwaizumi closed his eyes in an effort to remember- no, he couldn't remember a time when they- never mind.

Suddenly, he went back to the place where he met her.

Afternoon sunlight filtering through ivy and lush greens plastered to the walls like a gentle arm around a lover's shoulder. Canary yellow chairs in the abstract background. Wind blowing through in a sweetheart's whisper. Worn-out desks that have been used through the years and the blackboard saying and showing nothing but surfaces contaning knowledge they probably wouldn't need in the distant future.

It was a beautiful dreamscape, and despite his sentence sounding utterly shitty and sappy- he thought her prescence made it all the more beautiful.

S/C colored-palms reached out to him and he held on- wholely immersing in her features and imperfectly perfect smile.

Butter fingers, he realized as he held her hand.

Their hands were in contrast with each other; his rugged, calloused palms and her butter soft fingers.

She never spoke; merely smiled as the both of them slow-danced to a tune only they could hear, seemingly accompanied by the beating of the heart.

In that moment, Iwaizumi realized that he was overly and irrevocably screwed over. He had fallen in love with the girl of his dreams, literally.

Whatever, he internally shrugs, I can still come back. And she'll be here waiting.

He heard her laugh into the crane of his neck and he grinned, showcasing the canines of his teeth.

"What're you laughing about Y/N?"

She looks up in confusion- and this time he repeats his words slowly in English.

The H/Cette reciprocated his grin and replied with a drawl in her voice, an Italian accent prominent in her words.

"You just... daverro muscoloso," She points at his biceps. Hajime gave a baritone chuckle.

"I'm an athletic trainer, but I paint too."

She stares at him in surprise, "The trainer I expected, but the painting was not."

"Then what do you do Y/N?" He nitpicked, emphasizing the 'you'.

"I paint too. I paint and give them to museums or events who will sell them," the both of them went quiet for a moment before she spoke again,

"What is it like in Japan?"

Hajime loved this. This endless conversation. Warm hands. Moving feet. He loved holding her by the waist. He loved her slow-dancing. He loved her honest self. The shine in her eyes. The warmth of her smile. The accent that seemed to resound through his ears and into the arterial walls of his heart. He loved. He loved. He loved.

His love was infinite. He was irrevocably in love and plummeted into it at 316 miles per hour. And this feeling was true. So, so true.

They ended their talking and sat on the yellow chairs by the ivy that almost covered the sunset view from the windows. He told her she was pretty- and with an honest tone she denied it. Iwaizumi thought otherwise.

The spiky-haired brunette closed his eyes as he relished in her breaths and soft whispers so much until he opened his eyelids and saw nothing but blank walls, scattered papers and portrait still staring at him with that come-hither smile.

That was a good dream, Hajime thought. He stood up and his back gave a satisfying crack.

Walking towards the painting with brisque steps, he pressed his forehead lightly to the painted woman's own head and imagined as if she was pressing hers to his too.

He can almost hear her heartbeat.

'You were a good dream.'

Iwaizumi Hajime had volleyball-player kind of hands- rugged, calloused from all the spiking he had to do as the ace of the team.

No one could imagine he'd hold quite the unrequited love for a girl with butter fingers- yet existed in a whole other world than him.

And despite wishing they would happen, he'd rather let it stay that way.

But he wondered,

'Would he have a lifetime in a world where you were his and he was yours?'

Nevermind. You were never his if you weren't this real.

For now you were in his dreams, at least.

━━━━━━━━ ꧁ ♡ ꧂ ━━━━━━━━

A lucid dream is a type of dream where the dreamer becomes aware that they are dreaming. During a lucid dream, the dreamer may gain some amount of control over the dream characters, narrative, and environment. Lucid dreamers can rarely travel between dreams as most are stuck in their own dreamscape, but in the rare case of lucid dreamer Y/N L/N, it is quite uncertain if she was travelling between dreams or creating a dreamscape where she could travel between dreams. In the latest report, she says she's been a little late in waking up- as she said she had been meeting up with a lovely painter. Who knows- it just might be another dream character of hers.

[rosemarylemonades]

Do you want to be helped?

What’s up uhhh here to share this thing I wrote for my creative writing class that got really good feedback and now I really like it and I wanted to put it into the world

It’s about a sad boy named Sage who’s really going tf through it

CW: self-harm/suicide, no explicit descriptions

Monday

           I stared at the mess I’d made for a moment, before breaking my trance and getting the cleaning wipes from under my bathroom sink. The lemon scent of the cleaning wipes quickly overpowered the metallic smell that had filled my nose moments ago.

           I tossed the used wipes in the small trashcan and washed my hands before pulling my sweatshirt on. The sleeves fell just past my palms, hiding me from the rest of the world nicely.

Tuesday

           I sat in front of Dr. Brady’s desk, anxiously waiting for him to finish his phone call. He spoke quickly to whoever was on the other end of the line, “Yes, thank you so much, I’m with a student now so I’ll speak to you later.” He hung up the phone and turned to look at me, offering a reassuring smile. “Sage,” he began.

           It felt like someone glued my mouth shut, so I just nodded at him to indicate he had my full attention.

           “I promise you’re not in trouble, but I’m very concerned about your performance in my class,” Dr. Brady said. “You’ve always been a good student, is something going on in your personal life?”

           I thought back to my last few attempts at doing anything for his class – staring at what seemed like an impossible amount of homework questions each week before shoving everything into my backpack and missing exams because I couldn’t drag myself out of bed.

           A lump rose in my throat and I choked it back. “No sir, I think I just took on too much and overwhelmed myself this semester,” I said. My bottom lip quivered slightly, but I kept my voice steady.

           How do I explain to my English professor that I have no motivation to finish my homework because most of the time I’m wondering if I even want to be alive?

           Dr. Brady ran a hand through his short, graying hair and let out a small sigh. “You have a lot of potential, and like I said, you’ve always been a good student. I can give you a couple of weeks to make up your missing work, but if you can’t I have to recommend you drop the class.”

           I thanked him and left, opening the registration portal on my phone and dropping the class as I walked down the hallway.

Wednesday

           “What seems to be bothering you today, Sage?” Dr. Fitz folded her hands on her lap. I shrank down into the oversized armchair in her dimly lit office, glancing at various things in the room to avoid eye contact.

           “I’m behind in my classes and I had to drop one,” I mumbled, picking at my already torn-up cuticles. “It just made me feel shitty. I can’t do it anymore.”

           “Well, why don’t we talk about why it’s making you feel that way?” Dr. Fitz said. “Maybe we can find some new motivation.”

           I half-heartedly agreed. I didn’t really care about finding a solution to my problems anymore.

Thursday

           I stared at the blank text document on my computer screen. The thought of even attempting my homework frustrated me to no end, and I honestly didn’t care about my classes anymore, but I wanted to give it a try. I pulled up the questions on the browser next to my document, looking between the two. I struggled to process the words I read, let alone form a coherent answer to them.

           I slammed my laptop shut, a bit too dramatically, and gripped my dark hair in frustration.

           Idiot. Lazy. Failure. Screw-up.

           My mind was full of words to describe how I felt about myself these days. Tears had welled up in my eyes, and they threatened to spill over at any second. This had been building up for weeks, and now it was all going to burst out over a homework assignment.

           A knock at my bedroom door snapped me out of my miserable state for a moment.

           “Just a minute!” I called. I took my hands out of my hair and smoothed it down in an attempt to look normal, blinking the tears out of my eyes and wiping them with the back of my hand.

           “Sage? Are you busy right now?” Quinn’s voice came from the other side of my closed door, catching me off-guard. I had expected it to be my roommate, Aiden, asking if I wanted to go to dinner. “Sorry for just showing up, I haven’t heard from you all day and Aiden let me in.”

           I crossed the room and opened my bedroom door. My boyfriend stood there, concern painted all over his face. Before I knew it, the floodgates opened and all the emotions I’d been trying to force down poured out. I couldn’t even get a word out before fat tears began rolling down my cheeks. He backed me into my room and shut the door, enveloping me in a tight hug.

           I took in his comforting scent of cigarettes and pine with every gulp of air I managed to get in between sobs, and he rested his chin on top of my head while I gripped two fistfuls of his t-shirt and cried it out.

Friday

           Quinn kept treating me as if I was about to break, and it was starting to get on my nerves. I was embarrassed at the way everything spilled out of me when he showed up at my door. He had enough on his plate, but now he had to worry about the fact that I scream-cried on him for an hour over my homework and I might have let it slip that I wanted to die. That’s just fantastic.

           I desperately wanted to go back to pretending everything was fine and I was dealing with normal college stress.

           “Baby, have you talking to your therapist about what’s going on?” Quinn said on the other end of the phone line. He’d called me on every break he had today, met me to walk me to some of my classes, and even brought me lunch. On a normal day, I would have relished in every second of his company, overwhelmed by how in love I was with him, but today I just wanted to be alone.

           “Yeah, but I feel like it just doesn’t help anymore,” I said. I felt uncomfortable, like I wanted to crawl out of my skin if we stayed on this topic. I was tired of talking to people about how messed up my brain is, and how my family disowned me when I came out as gay, and how I didn’t see the point in anything anymore.

           “Do you want to be helped?” Quinn pressed.

           I stayed silent. He didn’t want to hear my answer to that question.

The voice in my brain scrutinized everything about me, making sure I knew how much of a waste of space I was.

           My mom’s voice replayed in my head, just a few weeks ago demanding I get out of her house if I was going to choose to be a fucking faggot.

           Things would be so much easier on everyone if I was just gone.

           “I’m worried about you.”

Monday, again

          I sat up in bed for the first time in a couple of days. My body was sore, but I pushed past the discomfort. The sunlight streaming through the window made the white walls of the hospital room brighter.

          I had texted Quinn and Aiden each a goodbye Saturday night. One of them called for help, apparently just in time to get to me before it was too late.

          I wrestled with so many emotions when I woke up and grasped what happened; I felt angry and depressed, God, I couldn’t even kill myself right; I felt guilty, imagining the stress Aiden and Quinn must have been under dealing with me before, and how I made it even worse.

          The emotions hadn’t quite settled yet, but they were getting there.

          I spoke to Quinn on the hospital phone a few hours after I woke up, still pretty out of it. I didn’t have any family to be there for me, so he was the first person I thought to call. I apologized profusely, cried on and off, barely able to form a coherent sentence as I stammered out apologies.

          He forgave me, but hearing him cry on the phone while we talked made me feel even guiltier about the entire situation.

          Aiden forgave me, too, when he and Quinn brought me my phone and snuck in some soup from Panera so I could eat decent food.

          Despite how depressed and guilty I felt, I was starting to reach a sort of… relief, that I had survived.

          People in my life cared enough about me to get me help, they forgave me for what I did, and they continued to be there for me despite how hard I pushed them away and everything I put them through.

          Maybe I didn’t want to be gone as badly as I thought I did. The voice in my head continued to whisper nasty things to me, but I had the proof right there that maybe things could get better.

          I didn’t really know anymore.

[dragons-bones]

FFXIV Write Entry #4: Iron and Pine

Prompt: clinch | Master Post | On AO3

Shameless use of carpentry terms ahead, because my dad was one by trade. And for those interested, I based Ehll Tou’s toolbox after this design by the English Woodworker; I found it while searching for a good visual aide to help me describe how nails are clinched (which I didn’t end up doing).

Mild spoilers for Ehll Tou’s Custom Deliveries ahead!

--

Ehll Tou rocked back on her heels and set her claws on her hips, a thrum of pleasure rising in her throat as she examined her first completed woodworking project.

The tool chest was unassuming: simple pine, painted over in Ishgardian blue to disguise the mismatched grains of the planks she had used. The lid had no hardware and was kept shut with a combination of a rabbet cut into the back piece and a strong magnet on the front, with battens on the inside of the lid to ensure it didn’t slide around when she carried the chest. The handles were simple but sturdy rope, threaded through holes bored into the sides, and the only metal visible—though now painted over—were the iron nails clinching the cleats and planks into place.

Not the prettiest box, perhaps; nothing at all like the chests that contained armor and lost treasures carefully hidden in Sohr Khai, made of heavy woods and metal and engraved with beautiful designs or set with precious metals and jewels. But, as she was learning, not everything she made had to be beautiful, nor did it even have to be perfect. Form was as important as function, and good enough was more than acceptable.

It was a fine lesson to learn along with the foundations of carpentry, however. The paint on her new box highlighted the toolmarks left behind from planing the wooden planks smooth and shaping the cleats, but there was a charm in seeing the little imperfections brought to the fore. And so many new skills that had gone into the crafting: splitting and sawing to trim planks to just the right length and width; planing, not just to smooth but to shape the wood into an even thickness, and to create rabbet joints that could hold those planks neatly in place; hammering, which had seemed so simple at first, but required a keen eye so that the wood didn’t split (and thumbs weren’t whacked—ow) and that the nails would not come loose. (So many scraps of wood sacrificed to mastering how to properly clinch nails alone.) And, of course, learning the importance of all the different pieces: that a box wasn’t simply four sides, a bottom, and a lid, but also the not-so-decorative strips of wood called cleats that prevented warping and would keep a box sturdy and straight for years to come.

Ehll Tou was still becoming comfortable with her new adult size, and some days she missed having smaller paws that made fine, delicate work such as sewing a simple task. Relearning her stitches with larger—though more dexterous!—forelimbs was a challenge, but these new ‘hands’ of hers and greater strength were what allowed her to take on larger, more complex projects. She certainly would never have been able to manage planing as a dragonet!

She reached forward, raising the lid and sliding it back into the notches carved into the sides of the chest that would allow the lid to stay open without falling, and peered inside. Perhaps she could make removeable trays? Something to store smaller objects such as nails or drafting chalk so that they didn’t rattle about the bottom. She had every intention of still using her satchel as much as she could to carry her most important tools, but this box would be quite useful in moving more tools when she traveled between Ishgard and the Churning Mists to show her friends her projects.

Ah, but now that she was becoming more proficient in woodworking, she could begin making herself other items, too. Tables, workbenches, a desk for Hautdilong… Oh, and her chest-building skills would translate so well to cupboards! Arvide and Synnove had told her they were working on finding her space for her very own workshop here in the Firmament, and having her own territory meant she could decorate. Yes, cupboards would be an excellent side project; she could safely store items like her beloved hat while she learned smithing or alchemy.

Ehll Tou clapped her claws together excitedly as she thought. She would make her cupboards and cabinets and shelves from something a little prettier than pine. Oak, walnut, mahogany? So many lovely choices available! Perhaps she would ask Synnove if she had any recommendations.

[lyricalimerence]

10 Things I Hate About You • 002

masterlist • 001, 002, 003... coming soon

Chapter Two — Heinous Bitches & Cliché Bets

summary: intro to kacey & the bet is made between kelce + topper

word count: 2196

warnings: mentions of smut like two or three lines total, swear words, and high school stupidity. oh, how i miss the dickstains i go to school with 😌.

a/n: i actually love writing kacey's character. n e who, this is for @popcsheyward because i'm making jj simp for u

Deep in the heart of the high school, a class of bored and inattentive seniors doodle in their notebooks and up the exposed skin on their arms; others text, their phones “hidden” beneaths their desks. Kacey Brooks was in the middle of it all. Everyone knew her, whether that was a good thing or a bad thing. It was the advent of spring, encroaching on summer, and on an island, that means it is hot. But, there Kacey sat, in baggy denim jeans, cuffed above her ankle so the hems didn’t drag along the floor. Her hands were tucked underneath her denim-clad thighs as she leaned over the desk, tracing the looping font that said “Romeo and Juliet” on the cover of the book on her desk with her eyes. God, she hated that book. They read it in Sophomore year, and she didn’t understand why they had to read the stupid play again.

The English teacher, Mr. Martin stood from his swivel chair, picking up his own copy of Romeo and Juliet just to drop it down on the podium, catching the drifting seniors’ attention. “Okay, slackers. What did you think of the play?”

A girl in the back of the classroom, another clean cut Kook with pink lip gloss and tight crop tops raised her hand. With a smile, she rushed into her opinion, not bothering to get permission to speak. It was a well known fact that in the Outer Banks it was easier to ask for forgiveness than permission. “It was so romantic. I loved it.”

Kacey’s brows stitched together, not mulling over her personal rebuttal for more than a moment before looking over her shoulder at the girl. Her eyes were glossy, lost in her romanization of the play. Ever since the second semester of her freshman year when she just snapped, she had been braving each day, treating it as a singular battle in the war against high school ignorance. “Romeo and Juliet was not romantic. It was two people having a teenage rebellion and wallowing in their own angst. They simply wanted an escape from their family lives. And Shakespeare? He was a racist, anti-semetic misogynist who is praised when he couldn’t decide on one way to spell his own name.”

The entirety of the class rolled their eyes, including Mr. Martin. It hadn’t been the first time Kacey had spoken out on her take on the social issues that came with the authors of novels and how they correlate to modern day society. Kelce, a Kook Prince of the highest degree and sitting to the left of Kacey, pokes at the metaphorical bear. “As opposed to a friendless, holier-than-thou wench?”

The girls pining after Kelce for his looks or trust fund giggled, despite his dig into the girl next him not being all that funny. Mr. Martin slapped the wooden podium with his Folger Shakespeare Library copy of Romeo and Juliet. “Pipe down, Slick.”

Kacey pulled the hem of her army green crop top to cover the slight bit of tanned skin exposed before quipping, “I guess having a dick and being a dick makes you entitled to our time.” The brunette pushed the hair falling over her forehead out of the way before waving her copy of the play in the air. “What about Sylva Plath or, I don’t know, Emily Bronte for all I care.”

Before Mr. Martin could respond with his own activistic rebuttal, Rafe Cameron walks into class, holding up a copy of the first Harry Potter book and raising his eyebrows, silently questioning whether that was the right book. He knew it wasn’t. “What’d I miss?”

A Pogue who was a known theatre nerd started humming the tune to the song from Hamilton titled What’d I Miss while Kacey all but spun in her seat. “Just the patriarchal values that run this lovely institution and corrupt the minds of dimwitted Kelce’s everywhere.”

Rafe nodded along to Kacey’s statement and through to her next breath, not having stopped in between words to breathe. “Good.” After his simple response, he immediately turned on his heel and walked back down the hall, rather enduring more uncomfortable conversations with the Dean than English class.

Kacey and Rafe had no ill will towards each other, only being able to base an opinion off the presumed stereotypes of each other that get passed around the school. Kacey and Rafe had known each other for a long time. When they were six, Kacey’s father was Rose Cameron’s obstetrician, seeing as he’s the best on the Outer Banks and the Camerons are the richest on the Outer Banks. That’s where they met: outside his stepmother’s hospital room, playing chopsticks with their fingers while they sat cross-legged on the tile floor, drinking apple juice from juice boxes. That’s where their friendship ended. They hadn’t really spoken since, only having that snapshot into reality before the doors were closed. Kacey was popular, had many more friends than Rafe did, and boys trailed her. When freshman year rolled around, he kept his distance because he knew he would walk away with a sharp pain in his groin. That was just how she carried herself, and he carried himself differently.

Mr. Martin attempted to call after Rafe, only to hear the cicadas buzzing outside.

“Mr. Martin, do you think we could get Kacey to take her Midol before class?” Kelce asks, his signature smirk gracing his face as he continued his quest to make Kacey’s life a living Hell. Snickers erupted from the class, causing Kelce’s smugness to go to his head, lifting himself onto his selfmade pedestal.

“One day, you’re gonna get bitch-slapped right across that brazen face of yours, and I’m not gonna do anything to stop it. Kacey, thank you for your input.” As Mr. Martin took a brief pause, Kacey smiled to herself, please that her social activism finally was justified by authority. He continued, “I can’t imagine how hard it must be for you to overcome upper-class, Kook oppression. It must’ve been awful.” Her chest puffed out with pride deflated at his words. She knew he was right. “But the next time you storm the school board campaigning for more recycling bins or whatever you white girls complain about, ask them why they can’t buy a book written by a Black man!”

“Understood. Anything else?” Kacey asked, looking straight past Mr. Martin and out the window overlooking the quad behind him.

“Yeah, go to the office, you’re pissing me off.” Her neck whipped to look at her English teacher at his words, opening her mouth to argue, but he shot her a stern look and pointed towards the door. In Kacey’s rageful frenzy, she decked Kelce in the face with her bag as she stormed out of the classroom towards the office.

The Dean sat in her office, her rouge painted nails clicking against the keys on her keyboard as the sleazy thoughts in her head transferred onto the Word document housing her novel. She whispered to herself as her fingertips ghosted the letter labeled keys on her laptop. She snapped her head up, calling out to the secretary, asking for her to look up another word for ‘engorged’ despite being able to pull up the thesaurus on her computer.

“Tumescent?” Kacey suggested as she walked into the small, pink office.

The Dean snapped her fingers, pointing at Kacey as she morphed her hand into a finger gun. “Perfect!” Kacey swung her bag off her shoulder and onto the ground next to the chair in which she seated herself. “I hear you’re terrorizing English class again.”

“Last time I checked, it wasn’t just English class, and expressing my opinions is not a terrorist action.” The eighteen-year-old raised her eyebrows indignantly, her head nodding slightly in authoritativeness.

The Dean smiled sarcastically at Kacey, “The way you expressed your opinion to Topper Thornton? His testical retrieval operation went quite well, if you’re interested.”

“I maintain he swung his own golf club up his legs like a field goal.” Kacey crossed her arms over her chest. She settled into her chair. Her conversations with the crude woman in front of her always went the same way; Mr. Martin threw her out of class for existing, and her previous deeds suddenly have updates that the Dean thinks Kacey should know about.

“The point I’m trying to make is that people think you’re a heinous bitch and you should work on it.” Her eyes flickered to her still open laptop and back up to the eighteen-year-old. “What do you think about blood sex?”

“Okay, yeah, this has been lovely, however,” grabbing her backpack, she swung it over her shoulder as she rose from the uncomfortable chair. “I think I’ll let you get back to Chris chokeslamming Jackie into a wall.”

As Kacey left the office to walk the halls of Kildare County High School, the Dean seemed to take her words into serious consideration, whispering Kacey’s final sentiment under her breath as she typed the word ‘chokeslam.’

. . .

Kelce leant against the stone wall that surrounded the courtyard and only rose to about waist-high of even the shortest of students. His best friend and fellow poster child for the effects of affluenza, Topper Thornton ( who is very acquainted with Kacey Brooks and her golf club swing ), stood next to him, the two of them surveying the inhabitants of the grassy lawn in the back of the school. Topper noticed Gracie walking through the gap in the stone wall, her Spanish textbook pressed to her chest as she nodded along to what Arianna said next to her. The familiar breeze carrying the scent of the ocean and the feeling of home blew the short strands of Gracie’s hair that framed her face in almost an angelic way, and her sundress that fell to her mid-thigh swayed as she walked. Gracie and Arianna were picturesque, almost like they actively strived to be compared to Cher and Dionne from Clueless.

With a carnal smirk, Topper elbowed Kelce, muttering “Virgin alert” as the sophomore passed the two guys, smiling and waving at Kelce as they went.

“Lookin’ good, ladies.” As if Kelce’s remark was a que, Gracie and Arianna pushed forward, leaving the hormonal teenager guys watching them like they were prey for them to catch.

“No way, Bro. They’re outta your league.”

“No one’s out of my league.” Kelce’s eyes didn’t leave Gracie as she distanced herself from them.

Topper pulled fifty dollars out of his pocket, “Wanna bet?”

“Nah, I’ve got money. This’ll be for fun.” Kelce pushed Topper’s hand that was holding onto the bill away and dapped up his empty hand, sealing the deal. Kelce was about to embark on one of the most cliché, tropical bets of his high school experience.

“Just look at her, man.” JJ watched Gracie and Arianna pass him, John B, and Pope. He followed her with love struck eyes and wistful pining.

Pope tilted his head, the cap that sat on his head almost falling off his head as he tried to understand his friend’s mindset. “She’s just so…”

“Perfect?” JJ offered.

John B and Pope shared a glance, rolling their eyes at JJ’s suggestion. “I was going to say ditzy.” John B replied.

“How can you say that?” JJ turned to glance at his friends who were totally unimpressed by the girl that captured almost all the guy’s hearts at the high school. “She’s totally…”

“Narcissistic?” Pope said, getting a nod from John B in agreement.

“That’s her sister, c’mon, guys.” JJ waved his hand in the air for emphasis. There was no way Gracie was like Kacey. They were too polar. “There’s more to her than you think. See her smile? She’s totally pure.”

“Yeah, pure money. She’s a Kook, dude.” John B ran a hand through his overgrown brunet locks. “What’s there is a snotty princess wearing a dress that was purposefully planned to make Pogues like you realize you can’t have her and Kooks like Kelce and Topper want her.”

“Besides, JJ, you know the rule. It’s not like she could date you even if she wanted to.” Pope added on, readjusting his baseball cap to fit snugly on his head.

“Put her in the Spank Bank and move on, Bro.” John B and Pope started walking in the opposite direction, lunch was about to start.

JJ jogged to catch up, shaking his head in denial. “Nah.”

“Move on, man. Jizz Wizz and then dip.” Pope reiterated John B’s sentiment as JJ held his arm out, stopping them in their tracks in front of the bulletin board to the right of the door into school.

“She needs a Spanish tutor,” He ripped the paper advertisement off the cork board.

“You can’t even speak Spanish.”

“What do you mean?” JJ looked at John B as he traced Gracie’s phone number printed on the paper.

“Broken Spanish and fantasizing about lobsters from Yucatan doesn’t mean you know Spanish.” Pope pulled the paper out of JJ’s hand, ready to tack it back to the board before JJ took it again.

“Okay, so I don’t know Spanish, but I will.”

tags — @perkily @mortifiedposts @poguequeen @abigailpankow @curlybrownhairedboys @steverogers123 @outerbankslut @jayjaymaebank @jjssarah @whOreforharry @wowitswondergurl @anonymous0writer @kodi8314 @outrbank @aestheticcraze @kylosleftbuttcheek @x-lulu @dailygrace06 @calswildflower95 @insanitysparkles @prejudic3 @ilovejjmaybank @apoguecalledjj @xxxxxxxxxxxxxooooooooooooo @calumbroutledge @rudys-pankow @bxllasanosa @write-from-the-heart @thelocalpogue @fandomsinapile @starkeymarkey @lovingxjj @beatement-l @drew-starkey @beckester @butgilinsky @kayak-huesgen @everydayimfangirling @delinquentstarkey @g4bster @crumpetsandmarmite

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