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pleasantanathema · 4 years ago

Text

Pairing: Tetsurō Kuroo x Fem!Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+ only)

Warnings: Consensual non-con (reader and Kuroo have agreed together to engage in a consensual non-consensual situation), degradation, rough sex, dirty talk, biting, choking, hair pulling, mentions of blood, spit, and smoking cigarettes

Word Count: 6k

A/N: This is a collab piece for the The Smut Pile Mafia Collab hosted by myself, @present-mel, and @linestrider

You can find all the other wonderfully creative and smutty pieces on our masterlist!

And thank you @present-mel for this beautiful banner 💕

Kuroo always took pride seeing you on stage, especially when you wore those provocative gowns that he bought for you. He sat back in his chair, one arm crossed across his chest while the other nursed a glass of bourbon to his lips. Tonight, you were more sensual than he’d seen you before, your hands cupped around the microphone, hips swaying as you sang. You were a harpy culling her crowd. The designer dress was dripping from your curves, every seam crafted to hug your body. He couldn’t keep his eyes off your waist, couldn’t keep his eyes off the high cut of the slit that exposed the smooth flesh of your thigh. He knew every man in that room was doing the same, all of them lost to the delirium of melody, but none of them got to have you like he did.

You never asked for the dresses, or the shoes, or the pearls, or his favorite color of lipstick; no, you never asked for anything, his seductive little songbird. But you always said thank you, a peculiar glint in your eyes that he knew you saved only for him.

His station in life as the leader of the Nekoma Mafia allotted him any woman he wanted in Tokyo—and he had plenty of playthings, but you? You were his favorite. You always fucked him like you loved him, let him do anything he pleased and still begged for more. But then you’d always let him go; there was no pleading, no big eyes and pouty lips begging him to stay the night. You let him be who he was, let him do whatever the fuck he wanted to, never asked where he was or what he did or who he killed, and it was your indifference to him that kept him coming back.

He wanted to make you beg for him to stay, but tonight, he wanted you to beg for him to stop.

Your voice rang in his head unconnected to the lyrics you were singing.

You can force me to fuck you any time you want, Tetsurō—god his name sounded good in your mouth, even in his thoughts—surprise me one night. I’ll say no, I’ll fight back, but only stop if I say our safeword.

The two of you had this conversation a few months ago and, at the time, he hadn’t thought much of it, still too blissed out after fucking your face underneath his desk. You’d still been swallowing his cum when he mentioned how he liked to take control of you like that, all rough hands and violent kisses that left bruises even on your cheeks where he had pulled you in to suck his cock.

But now, after too many weeks of being away from you on business, he’d had a lot of time for the exchange to settle into ruminations. He came here tonight with the full intention of forcing himself onto you after you stepped off that stage, and the image in his mind alone was enough to have him resituating his aching cock in his trousers.

__________________________________

Of course you spotted him in the crowd. He was unmistakable, black hair simmering beyond the heat of the stage lights. You couldn’t help but keep your eyes on him for a little too long at moments, excitement curling inside your belly.

You hated to admit to yourself that you’d missed him, that you’d been looking for him within the throngs of people every night, just hoping to catch a glimpse of golden eyes and a loosened tie in his usual spot in the back of the nightclub.

And there he was, eyeing you down like a predator would his prey, a grin so cavalier and catlike it made you shiver. The sleeves of his white dress shirt were already rolled up like he was prepared to sink his fingers into you at any moment.

It was hard to focus on your set, hard to keep your attention on other members in the crowd. Your hands were sweating and you were glued to the microphone out of fear that, if you let go, you’d wander right off the stage and into his lap. It was an agonizing, and quite titillating, half hour of singing.

You made a beeline to your dressing room in the back after taking a bow and blowing a few kisses, foregoing mingling at the bar with patrons. You needed to wash your hands, you needed to take a breath before you went out to see him, before you hurriedly texted him to come meet you.

But he was already there, a fresh cigarette between thumb and forefinger as he lounged against the doorframe to your room.

“Hey, kitten, been a while.”

His voice had your hair standing on end, made you stumble in your stride.

“Tetsurō,” a smile pulled at your cheeks, “you’re in my way.”

“I would say give me a password, but I suppose a kiss will do.”

You stood before him, plucking the cigarette from his fingers and pressing it to your lips for a drag. Your weight shifted to one heeled foot, your eyes never leaving his as you took a long inhale of the menthol and tobacco, the cherry of the cigarette growing hot.

He reached for you, pulling you against him so his lips could capture the smoke, drinking in the taste. You both groaned at the contact, a voltaic hum syncing your bodies together. His lips were forceful, commanding, taking the lead and easily prying yours apart for him to explore the familiar home of your mouth. The action felt natural, but you could sense there was something unknown pent up inside of him.

Your free hand fumbled with the doorknob behind him, the other holding the ashen cigarette at a safe distance away.

“Mhm, did you miss me?” he mumbled against your lips, hand trailing down the satin of your dress to trace the slit at your thigh. Long, nimble fingers curled up to find your panties.

“Not very much,” you were being cheeky, but he didn’t have to catch that.

“Oh yea? Your pussy tells me otherwise.”

A sharp moan erupted from your throat as his middle finger pressed against the dampness of your panties, his forefinger following and circling against your clit.

“Fuck—get, get in the room,” you breathed, finally getting purchase on the knob and shoving him and his greedy hands into your dressing room.

Kuroo snatched the cigarette back from your hand, taking in a pull before smothering it into the ashtray on the vanity built into the wall.

You stood before the mirror, catching a flash of him moving behind you. You felt hot, a little overwhelmed, and you weren’t sure if it was the heat from the bulbs that lined the edges of your dressing table, or if it was his presence making you edgy.

His hands were back on your hips as you removed your earrings and set them onto the table. His fingers were eager, one hand ghosting up your body to slide down the strap of your dress so he could kiss and suck at your neck and shoulder.

“Shame you didn’t miss me,” there was a tonal shift in his voice, the timbre deeper, darker, “cause I sure did miss that pretty little mouth of yours.”

His fingers dug into your jaw, roughly pulling your face to the side so he could nip at the corner of your lips.

“Easy,” you warned, pressing your elbow back against him to get some space.

“Easy? Oh kitten, there will be no easy, tonight. I haven’t had you in weeks, and I’m taking what I want.”

Realization washed over you after a few heartbeats. You grinned against the fingers pressing into your cheeks, knowing and delighted.

“Sorry, Tetsurō,” you added a vile bite to his name as you pulled your face from his grip, “I’m not interested tonight.”

“Not interested?” he sneered, that wild, feline smirk back in its place.

He was still behind you, pressing up against your back with fingers digging into the flesh of your thigh. He eyed you through the mirror. He looked menacing behind you, amber eyes narrowed and glowing within the reflection of yellow lights. You’d almost forgotten how big he was; his broad body dwarfed yours, meaty shoulders caging around you, strong, round biceps curling underneath your arms as he encircled you in a tight embrace. You were drawn to the moving hand on your leg, the entirety of his palm almost eclipsing your thigh as desirous fingers once again crept towards your pussy.

“You should leave,” you meant for the words to sound serious, but there was clearly an underlying, breathy want within your voice.

“Absolutely not,” he sunk his teeth into the juncture of your shoulder and neck, groaning at the taste of your skin, “I came here for you.”

You held back your moan, struggling within his hold. Your hands flew over his, one on your thigh, the other on your stomach, bidding to pry off his ironclad fingers.

“Get off me.”

He only pulled you deeper into him, his grip tighter, teeth harsher. You winced at the pain of his bite. You struggled again, panting as you found no fruition to your efforts. God he was strong, and he was barely using any of his power to hold you.

You stepped a heeled foot onto his, jamming the stiletto into the leather of his shoe. He hissed and shoved you forward, sending your hips to knock into the edge of the vanity.

“I said get off me!”

You thought he’d hesitate, that he would take a moment to see if you really meant it, but you were mistaken.

He was into the game now.

“I like it when you’re feisty, kitten.”

You turned around to say something, but he was already on you, already one step ahead. The moment you turned, he had you in his arms, using his strength to lift you up onto the hot vanity.

“Tetsurō—!”

“Oh, shut up, you little slut, I know you want me, there’s no need to hide it.”

His hands were on your legs, in your dress. Too easily he tore at the fabric, the threads snapping like crackling fireworks against your skin. You gasped, pressing your hands against his shoulders, pushing at him with a genuine amount of strength to which he didn’t budge.

“Fuck, you can’t just—”

“Yes, I fucking can,” he scoffed, continuing to tear at the seam that lined the side of your gown, “don’t forget who spoils you.”

“Yea, a fucking mob boss,” you slighted, digging your nails into his wrist as if that would stop him.

He slapped your left cheek, hard, quick, like the fast swipe of a panther swatting at restless prey. Your neck swung to the side and you moaned, deep and strained from your chest. Your face throbbed, blood welling under your smarting skin like it was trying to figure out what happened and how to dull the pain, even though the pain was blossoming into pleasure.

“I’m someone who could end your life any time I want to, kitten. I can either hunt you down here or somewhere else, so I suggest you stop fighting.”

The gown was finally tugged from your body, and what was left of its shape fell down to your sides, the fabric caught underneath where you sat on the vanity.

With his hands free, he cradled your face, palms engulfing your cheeks. He forced you to look up at him. When you did, it brought you back to reality. He appeared wicked, enthralled, you could practically see thoughts churning inside his mind like the inner workings of a clock—he always was too smart for his own good, or, perhaps, for your own good. Your irises danced over the handsome planes of his face, over the feline curve of his eyes, over the full lips that you truly had missed feeling against yours. But you held yourself back; if he wanted to force you, you’d damn well let him.

“You’re mine, all mine.”

“No, I’m not yours. You don’t own me.”

His thumb caught to the edge of your lips, keeping them parted.

“Oh kitten,” he purred, sucking his tongue back into his mouth.

Your heart began to race as you heard a swish.

He spit down onto you, a slow, viscous string of saliva dripping from his mouth onto yours where he kept your lips pried open.

“I do own you.”

You tried to turn your face, but his hold was firm, keeping you from avoiding his territorial marking.

“Stop,” your voice was weak.

“Drink it all up like a good little girl.”

He shoved himself between your thighs, getting even closer as he watched your eyebrows furrow while you obediently licked your tongue along your lips, gathering his saliva to gulp down.

He groaned aloud at the sight, smashing his mouth down on to yours, wet and messy from spit. You didn’t kiss him back. You kept pressing back against his shoulders, trying to pull one of your knees up between your bodies to push him away, but he was quick. One of his hands snatched your thigh, roughly pressing it back down against the table to keep you in place. His mouth still worked against yours, hungry and ferocious, taking from you even though you weren’t giving anything back.

You needed to do something before you gave into him, before you wrapped your arms around him and spoiled the fun. He was intoxicating, especially with one of his hands drifting around your back to unhook your bra with ease.

One of your hands slid to his loosened tie, fingers entangling in the red fabric. You tugged, hard, attempting to force his mouth away from yours; he merely chuckled, continuing to pull at your own clothing, a little too effortlessly removing the cups of your bra from your breasts.

As cool air swept over your exposed nipples, you shivered and groaned, attempting to swat away the strong hand reaching to grope one of them.

You bit his greedy mouth, sharp and quick, catching his bottom lip between one of your canine teeth. He reacted immediately, shoving your head back against the mirror so harshly that a thick crack burst into the reflective glass.

“Fuck!” it was both of your voices shouting together, you cupping your aching skull and Kuroo fingering his busted lip.

“God you fucking bitch, you’ll pay for that.”

Blood was slick down his chin, the plump flesh of his lip noticeably pierced and split.

Your instincts were telling you to apologize, but you kept them at bay, choosing instead to take the moment to attempt to dash around his side towards the locked door. The remnants of your ruined dress fell to the floor as you quickly stood from the vanity, feet nearly tripping over one another in your heels.

“Oh no you don’t!” He caught your upper arm, swinging your helpless body back towards his. The severity of his motions had your legs buckling underneath you, your balance completely lost. He caught you before you hit the floor, keeping his arms tight around your nearly naked body as he maneuvered you to where he wanted you.

“Tetsurō,” your fingers were clawing into his forearms, feet dragging against the hardwood as he wrangled you to stand in front of him, “let me go.”

You were startled to see yourself in the mirror, having already forgotten your nakedness. You both looked disheveled, wild, his normally pristine shirt wrinkled, the white collar soaking up the drippings of blood from his mouth. You had bite marks on your neck, dark and glaring against your skin, your breasts shaking as you struggled against his encroaching arms—it was sensual, to watch yourself wrestle against him, to see his smoldering eyes watching you just as intently in the mirror. You caught a glimpse of your panties, the rustling of your bodies against one another having pushed the fabric higher on your hips, and deeper within your sopping folds.

One of Kuroo’s hands settled around your throat, using his fist as an anchor to keep your body still. His grip was harsh, fingertips solid but dormant against the sides of your neck, but there was the lingering threat that all he had to do was twist, squeeze, or press, and you’d never sing again, perhaps never leave this room again.

“Do you know what normally happens to people who fight me?” he tilted your neck back in his hold, bringing your ear closer to his mouth.

Your eyes stared at him through the reflection, your attention not leaving his face even as his free hand began to stroll across your body, fingertips tracing figure-eights on your stomach, climbing toward your breasts.

“Answer me when I speak to you, slut.”

“N-no,” it was hard to gulp underneath his palm, saliva pooling against your tongue, “I don’t know…”

“Oh yes you do, you just don’t like thinking about it.”

You could feel him smirk against your ear, see the catlike grin spreading like wildfire in the mirror.

He groped your breast, fingers brutal against your sensitive skin, pressing into the fatty flesh with unbridled possessiveness. It was painful, making your back arch away from the touch and into his chest. But it was stimulating all the same, your nipple hardening and beckoning to be pinched, tugged, owned by his hand.

“I kill the people who displease me, kitten,” he disclosed, admiring how large his hand looked against your breast as he kneaded your flesh. His knuckles were scattered with bruises, ring finger still forming a fresh scab from a recent altercation that required his fist. His skin looked barbaric compared to yours, scars and bruises against a fresh, smooth body.

He captured your nipple, wringing it between thumb and forefinger. Your whine was stopped by his hand, trapped within your vocal cords and unable to emerge under his grip.

“I could kill you so easily…” there was a pleasured grumble within his voice, bloodied mouth now kissing at the column of your neck between his spread fingers, “does that turn you on?”

You tried to shake your head, your hands pushing at both of his forearms in an attempt to free yourself. He only clutched onto you more tightly, your nipple now stinging from pain, your vision blurring from the decreased oxygen to your brain.

There was a panic brewing in your belly that you didn’t expect, true fear creeping up your spine. You knew you could mutter out your safeword and he would stop...or at least, so you thought. He looked lost within the mirror, bloodstained face almost drunk with power, his cock hard and nudging between your ass cheeks. He was getting high from this, and while you could feel a craving gnawing inside of you to give yourself up to him, there was also an edge of reality still pressing into your thoughts. Kuroo was dangerous, and if he wasn’t careful, if he crushed into your windpipe just a little too hard, and he’d have a mess on his hands, a dead plaything to throw in the dumpster behind the nightclub.

“Do you know how many mouthy whores I’ve had to get rid of? I’ve learned it’s so easy to snap pretty little necks,” his fist grew tighter around your throat to emphasize his point.

“Don’t say things like that,” you gasped, nails nearly tearing into the skin of his wrist.

His hand released your breast, your skin hot and burning from his harsh ministrations. But the reprieve was brief, his fingers snaking down your body and into your panties. You jerked your hips backwards to avoid his touch, only to find yourself grinding against the fat cock straining against his pants.

“I think you like what I’m saying,” he emphasized his words by running the pad of his index finger over your clit, your body shivering at his touch. He laughed in your ear, pressing his hips firmly against your body as you struggled to get out of his hold.

His fingers were ruthless. He spread you apart, sliding between your shamefully dripping folds with quick ease. His palm was cupped against your sex, thumb shoved directly against your clit as the other long digits prodded your tight hole. You tried to clamp your legs shut, but his hand was more durable than you expected. There was no physical way you could wiggle yourself out of this situation, and that realization alone had a concoction of panic and pleasure toiling inside your belly.

You bit your lip to stop the moans from bubbling out of your mouth.

You’d always loved his fingers; they were long, thick, perfect for curling inside you and finding that fleshy patch against your inner walls that had you shaking and panting. Two of them pushed inside of you, your panties ruined and forgotten against your thigh. He wasn’t gentle. Each move of his hand was a satisfying jab into your pussy, jolts of hard pleasure racing up your spine. And his thumb was just as merciless. He twirled it in tight circles across your sensitive clit, the bliss turning hot under your skin.

“Stop, stop, please stop, it’s too much!”

He knew the words were a lie, he could tell by how your legs were shaking.

You were Kuroo’s favorite instrument to play, he knew your melodies of ecstasy by heart. You might be able to cull him with that siren’s voice of yours, but he could string you along no other man could.

Your slick was dripping against his fingers now, each squelching push of his fingers had you pressing farther into him. His cock was nestled perfectly between your ass cheeks and each convulsion of your body, every clenching, stimulated him just as much.

“Fuck, no, no, you have to stop, Tetsuroō, please!”

“Shut. Up.”

His hand squeezed tighter around your throat, your eyelids fluttering at the increased loss of vision as your oxygen flow waned.

Kuroo watched you in the mirror, watched how your stomach was tightening, your thighs clamping together, knees buckling together from his invasive touch. You could see him watching you behind your closing lids, could see his smirk growing like a weed in a garden.

You felt his fingers begin to curve inside of you, wrist twisting to get the perfect angle. You were gasping, trying to catch short breaths beneath his hand before your inevitable fall.

“T-tet—”

You came hard and fast, the pleasure so blinding that you slumped within his hold, knees dropping to where the only thing holding your body up were his hands. Your cunt was aching, now cinching his fingers inside of you almost painfully. You cried out, sobbing at the intensity of it all, tears pricking at your lashes. Your body was humming, buzzing, almost like you’d left your skin and were hovering above your body in a cloud of euphoria.

He kept pushing his fingers inside of you, thumb never ceasing against your clit.

“Stop! Stop!” you were screaming it a little too loud now, if someone were to walk by your dressing room, they’d hear you. Kuroo’s hand flew to your mouth, finally giving your neck a reprieve from his monstrous grip. You exhaled shakily into his palm, your body calming down as his hand between your thighs came to a halt.

“I’m not stopping, kitten. No one could stop me now. I think your filthy little body is finally warmed up enough for my cock, what do you think?” his voice was husky against your ear, breath fanning into your hair.

“N-no! Anything but that, please don’t, Tetsuroō, please, I’m sorry!”

Your words were muffled against his palm, tears now streaming into his hand.

You didn’t expect that you could actually get yourself to cry—were you truly scared? Or had you fallen deeper into your role than you expected?

Kuroo paid your sounds little mind.

Your body was weak as he pushed you forward, hand releasing your face to grab the back of your head as he pressed your face into the vanity. Your legs were shaking, wobbly within your heels with your ass pressed into the air like this, your hands flat against the counter. You took a few moments to take deep breaths, your eyes focusing on the table. The ashtray was still lightly smoking from the half-smoked cigarette that had been shoved into it, your lipstick and earrings appearing like lost treasures drifting upon a sea out before you.

You heard the clinking of Kuroo’s belt buckle behind you, felt his hand secure itself into your hair, keeping your face smashed against the vanity’s surface.

Then his other hand was on your ass, kneading your flesh before smacking the rounded flesh. You winced, hissing between your teeth.

“You’re a worthless whore, I don’t know why I even bother with you anymore.”

That jab stung more than your smarting ass cheek.

You whimpered, closing your eyes as you felt his hand pull at your panties, once again shifting them to the side so he could access your weeping pussy, already spent from your first orgasm.

“Mhm, I can’t wait to see you cry when you're stuffed with my cock.”

“Stop this, please. I’ll do anything else you want, I-I swear!”

You felt the hot tip of his cock press against your folds, gathering your slick against his heated skin. You tried to angle your hips away, but Kuroo drew the back of your panties up into his fist, using them like reins to keep you in place.

“I don’t think you understand, kitten. This is what I want.”

He shoved his cock ruthlessly inside of you, the sharp pain of being spread racing across your nerves. You cried out, mouth hanging open against the cold countertop as his cock speared into your insides. But that pain quickly morphed into pleasure, his hips snapping up against yours with a ferocity that had moans spilling from your mouth even as you tried to stop them.

Your body was bouncing from his actions, ass slapping against his unbuttoned slacks as he pounded inside of you. There would surely be cum stains against the threads once he was done.

“Such a helpless little thing, aren’t you? Couldn’t stop me even though you tried.”

And you had tried. You told him you’d fight back if he ever wanted to play like this, and you expected that you’d be able to stave him off to some extent. But you hadn’t been able to. Every attempt to run, to move, to get him to stop, had been futile. He was too strong, his will too powerful for you to overcome. And that’s what had you quaking beneath him; you’d truly fallen prey to him, and you knew that if this ever wasn’t play, he would probably use even more force against you. You were helpless, save for the trust you had in him.

He kept a tight pull on your panties as he fucked you. His fingers were fisted around the fabric, pulling it tight against your skin, keeping it molded against your clit as his cock continued to barrel inside of you. Your walls were clamping down from all the sensations, fluttering with every thrust of his fat cock inside of you. You could feel that familiar, thick vein that ran along the underside of him rubbing against your pussy with every plunge. You felt stuffed, like your body was taking on more than you could handle.

“St-stop,” it came out with a moan.

“You know you love it,” he groaned, loud and deep and it made you shiver, “you love it when I treat you like the slut you are.”

You weakly threw your hands behind you, hoping to claw at him, to throw him off his game, but all he had to do was fist his fingers into the roots of your hair and tug to get you to stop. You screamed at the searing pain, not used to him pulling your hair so roughly. Your neck arched back at the force, lifting your breasts from the cool table to bounce with his thrusts. Your hands were slick with sweat as you trained to gain purchase on the vanity, lewd sounds pouring from your mouth with every thrust of him inside of you.

With his hand jerking your head back, now you could see him again in the mirror.

He was grinning, that smear of blood still staining his lips, his chin. He looked wild, black hair tousled even more than usual from your tryst. The sight of him had your heart racing, blood pumping even faster to where your bodies were joined together. You loved that look in his eye, like at any moment he was going to devour you and spit you back out spent and needy. You felt violated, wrecked, but you knew he wasn’t going to stop soon.

“You like watching, kitten? Like watching me stuff this pretty pussy of yours?”

“I hate you,” you spit the words out like venom, narrowing your eyes at him through the reflection.

“Say that again and I’ll slap you harder than I did earlier.”

Your cheek stung with the memory of his palm.

Before you could open your mouth again, he increased his pace, using the leverage of his hands in your hair and around your panties to slam you back into his cock as if you weighed nothing, as if you were nothing.

Curses painted your lips each time his cock stretched you again, and again, and again, as the angle he pulled you into had his cock brushing against that sweet spot inside of you. Your underwear was pulled even tighter than before, each jostle of your bodies making the fabric rub against your swollen clit. The feeling of orgasm was growing again, your senses constantly being propelled into a state of bliss every time he took a deep stroke inside of you.

“You think you’re special, don’t you? That’s why—fuck—you think you can tell me no? You’re just another whore to fuck,” he was growling, panting, “that’s all you are, you’re pathetic.”

His words felt like acid on your skin, burning you, heating you in all the wrong ways, but your body loved it, soaked up every curse and slight and turned it into boiling pleasure.

“Fuck, stop! I don’t wanna cum, I don’t wanna cum!”

“You’re gonna cum, kitten. Cum so that little pussy gets tight enough to milk my cock.”

You clenched your lower muscles, genuinely trying to avert the churning coil of pleasure inside of you, but all it did was make matters worse. Your pussy kept sucking him in, each thrust messy, loud, your ass slapping against his slacks and slick pooling down your thighs.

“Oh you feel so good, feel so fucking good squeezing me like that.”

That fresh praise had you coming undone. You felt him pull your panties even tighter against your curves, the fabric now almost cutting into your clit, and the sensation was all too much.

“Tetsurō, Tetsurō, stop, stop, I-I’m cumming, stop!”

It was more intense than before. You felt your whole body go numb, you watched as your mouth opened in a silent scream, every part of you trembling as the seams of sanity split with your orgasm.

He didn’t stop, not even as he came inside of you, ropes and ropes of hot cum filling up your sloppy pussy and spurting out onto his clothes, onto your thighs. He was unrelenting, keeping you within the throes of orgasmic bliss with his cock plunging inside of you over and over again. His force had your underwear splitting in his fist, threads snapping against your ass as the cloth broke apart.

The sound of your ripping panties had him slowing, now grinding his cock deep inside of your walls as you both came down from your highs.

When your bodies finally came to a halt, he let go of your hair, allowing you to catch yourself with your palms flat to the vanity. You hung your head, trying to even out your breaths and let your heart rate calm down as your vision unblurred.

You could hear him panting behind you, then finally felt his spent cock slip out of you, trails of cum and slick falling against your thighs.

You finally began to move, reaching between your legs to pry the remnants of your panties away from your cunt, letting the ravaged fabric fall to the floor where the remains of your dress still lay.

“Kitten?” Kuroo’s voice was soft, hands even more gentle as he wrapped his arms around you from behind, “are you okay?”

“Fuck,” you groaned, straightening your back to look at him, to fall into his arms, “that was...exhiliarting.”

He pressed tender kisses into your neck, tongue soothing over where he had bitten you earlier.

“God I fucking missed you,” he mumbled into your skin.

“I missed you too.”

You turned in his arms, pressing your weary body against his chest, feeling the sweat that had cooled into his white dress shirt. He kissed you slowly, deliberately, the taste of iron still present from his split lip. You embraced him, kissing him back with the same kind of easy passion.

“I need a drink after that,” you mumbled against his lips.

“I need new pants.”

You stepped back and looked down at his black suit trousers, finding them all kinds of soiled with creamy cum. You couldn’t help but laugh, the heaviness of your earlier actions breaking with the sound of your giggles.

“You normally keep spare clothes in your car, right? In case they get all bloody? Let me get dressed and I’ll go get them for you.”

You bent down to gather your own ruined clothes, wadding up the fabric of that beautiful dress and dumping it in the bin. You heard Kuroo mutter something about buying you a new one as you sifted through the small closet in your dressing room, slipping on a short cocktail dress and a fresh pair of panties to catch whatever cum was going to continue to leak out of you tonight.

He was smoking another cigarette as you left him behind in your dressing room to fetch him a new pair of pants, car keys in hand.

The music of the jazz band was loud as you meandered back and forth between the nightclub. You realized that no one could have heard you screaming over the sound of the plucking bass and the shrill of the trumpet.

You hurriedly returned to your dressing room, pants in hand.

You cleaned Kuroo’s lip with a damp cloth as he slung on his fresh pants, the cigarette now between your lips as you did your best to clean the blood from his face.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have bitten you so harshly.”

“Don’t worry about it, made it feel real. I can’t believe you didn’t call the safeword.”

He plucked the cigarette out of your mouth once he was done buckling his belt, grinning despite the clear cut on his lip.

“I told you I wanted to play along.��

You flicked off the lights to your vanity, grabbing his hand to pull him from the room.

The two of you found empty stools at the bar, Kuroo ordering your favorite drink as a few patrons wandered by to compliment you on your earlier set. You leaned your chin into your palm, keeping your eyes on the handsome, wondrous creature next you. You never knew what each encounter would consist of whenever he came around, but you felt yourself falling deeper into his web every time he fucked you. But you were still a little afraid of his world, but knew you’d be on the mafia’s doorstep if he ever asked you to be.

You thanked the bartender as your drink arrived, holding the cool glass in your hand.

“I think tonight deserves a toast, don’t you?”

That catlike grin was back on his face, amber eyes glowing with mischief.

“Mhm, what to, Tetsurō?”

He dipped his glass closer to yours, the rims kissing together.

“To being daredevils.”

Taglist:

@thirsthourdemon @tomurasprincess @badtimechara @present-mel @sgoldberg1997 @donica95 @hi-itsbonny @linestrider @shoutosplaything @kyberhearts @dhyaena @heyybrittannia @thisisthehardestthing @presmiic @kittifer @lemonsqueexx @iwaizumi-chan @kitten-on-ecstasy @dekulover @thatpeachybandgirl @skincrepe @whats-her-quirk @littlewhitefairy7777 @unboundbnha @tinitimesims125 @disasteren @misfitgirlwrites @tsum-samu @pineappleinmyass @nk-echi @wei-wuxian-wangji @sheneeza @buferfliz @marifujioka @bbyspiiice @deathcab4daddy @tenyacakebby @sadgirlsupremacy @hosino-a @donthurtmeimbaby @thingsladyjazzloves @bakarinnie @super-spooder

#thesmutpilecollab #Kuroo Tetsurou #kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsuro x you #kuroo x you #tw: consensual non-con #mafia!au #mafia au #haikyuu!!#hq fanfic #haikyuu kuroo #hq x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #kuroo tetsuro

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wkemeup · 4 years ago

Text

The Kid from Queens

summary: Bucky and Y/n take a trip to Queens in search of the boy Bucky saved on the day that changed his life pairings: bucky x reader warnings: none! 🧡 series masterlist / series playlist

“I don’t think this is a good idea.”

Bucky sank further into the backseat of the taxi, rubbing his palm against his jeans as he turned to look out the window. He was nervous, more anxious than you'd seen him in months. His eyes were unfocused as he tried to count the windows on the buildings, though they were little more than a blur. You curled up closer to his side, wrapping your arms tightly around his bicep.

“He’ll want to see you, Bucky,” you told him, brushing the hair away from his face. He was tense, firm muscle under your grip. “Did you know he lived so close by?”

Bucky shook his head as the taxi crossed the border into Queens. “It never came up.”

It was a Thursday evening when Bucky overheard one of the older guys down at the VA talking about a kid named Parker. He’d nearly frozen dead in his tracks, enough that his grip pulled you to an abrupt stop in the middle of the lobby, squeezing your hand so tight it began to ache. He was as rigid as you’d seen him the day Rollins stormed in the front door and nearly destroyed everything Bucky had built for himself. Only, this was different.

Bucky didn’t look as though he wanted to retreat, to escape out the back door and run until his feet couldn’t carry him. He was curious, a hitch in his breath, eyes glued to the men as they spoke fondly of a young kid who often hung around the VA in Queens, fixing up the computers with broken tech he’d swiped out of dumpsters and garbage bins.

It took a full five minutes before you could gather his attention again. He was too focused on listening to the men speak amongst themselves as he stood just on the edge of the room at a careful distance. His lips were curved into a frown, but his eyes were a little lost – sunken, sad. The dots were there on the wall, the red tape drawn along the board from Bucky’s time in Afghanistan to the kid he saved on the worst day of his life. You could tell by the stunned look on his face he never once considered the possibility of running into the boy again.

You carefully withdrew Bucky back to the kitchens where you sat him down and forced coffee on him. He was painfully quiet, his mind clearly running through every worst case scenario. While he was distracted and stirring sugar into his mug, you stepped outside to ask whether the men knew more about where Parker was staying.

It was Bucky’s idea to go find the kid, though it took him nearly a month to come around. He battled with himself for weeks about it; pacing along the living room, murmuring to himself about whether anyone from his old unit would even tolerate seeing his face after that day. He’d had enough experience with Rollins to tarnish whatever strand of hope he held onto that Parker might be an exception. Even though he saved the kid’s life, he still blamed himself for the loss of eight of their friends. He wondered if Parker did, too.

“Maybe we should go back,” Bucky started again, his hand quivering a little as you gripped it tightly. Excuses began to pile up, the dozens he’d considered since the moment he stepped into the back of the taxi. Maybe you would have let him back out if it weren’t for the cab rolling up to a steady stop in front of an old, brick townhouse with broken shutters and a baseball bat lying on the stoop.

You quickly paid the driver before slipping out the door, Bucky in tow. He stared up at the apartment for a while before either of you moved. The taxi was long gone, the gentle glow of a sunset just beyond the skyline. You could smell the fresh scent of oregano and garlic wafting from the open window in the living room, giving way to the garlic bread toasting in the oven.

“Bucky? You ready?”

He clenched his jaw, a deep breath filling his lungs as he started to shake his head. Bucky turned away from the door, facing you as you gripped his hand a little tighter.

“I haven’t seen him since it happened,” he admitted, shame seeping into his voice. “I don’t know if he would even—”

“Sergeant Barnes?”

Bucky took a few steps back as he looked up to find Peter standing on the doorstep of the apartment. He seemed to be surprised the boy had recognized him at all. It had almost been two years since they last saw one another, but Bucky had changed significantly from the picture you’d seen on Sam’s desk. His hair was longer now as it hung loose down by his shoulders, a scruff of beard covering his cheeks. He dressed in loose clothing and the absence of a limb in his left sleeve did not go unnoticed. He shifted himself to put his right side forward.

“Peter,” Bucky acknowledged tensely.

Peter bounded down the steps in feather light skips until he stood in front of Bucky. A smile lifted high into his cheeks as he looked Bucky over, a hand swiping through his untamed hair. He started to laugh, almost as if his body couldn’t quite contain the excitement, or maybe it was the nerves. His eyes flickered briefly over to you, though they didn’t last long. His smile didn’t falter for even a second.

But Bucky didn’t say a word. He held his ground, stone as a statue. Peter swallowed, a little nervous now in the silence.

“What can I do for you, sir?” Peter asked, his back straightening and for a brief moment you could imagine what he would look like in a military uniform, in beige camo and forty pounds of equipment on his back. He went from a kid to a man in a matter of seconds.

Bucky cleared his throat. “Just checking in on you.”

Peter’s brow furrowed. It didn’t seem like an answer he was expecting.

“Meant to do this a long time ago,” Bucky exhaled, scratching at the back of his neck, “just wasn’t sure if you’d want to—I mean, after what happened that day—”

“You mean when you carried me seven miles through open terrain while you were bleeding out?”

Bucky froze. You tried not to let the shock manifest on your features. It was the first time you’d even gotten a glimpse of what happened to Bucky on that day outside of his incoherent mumbling in his sleep. You glanced down to find Bucky’s hand trembling ever so slightly and you quickly slipped your fingers against his, giving him an anchor to hold onto.

Peter smiled, though it was softer than before. “Sir, you saved my life. I never got a chance to thank you for that.”

As Bucky looked at Peter, you could tell there was more he wanted to say. Whether it was to argue over how much of that praise he deserved or to remind the kid that he also lost eight others from his unit in the same attack, you weren’t sure. But before Bucky could part his lips, a woman appeared in the doorway of the apartment; long brown hair, wire rimmed glasses, and a wooden spoon stained in marinara in her grip.

“Sauce is getting cold, Peter!” she called, pointing to the kitchen with the end of the spoon.

“Sorry, Aunt May.” Peter grimaced, a flush of pink in his cheeks.

She narrowed her eyes upon Bucky, glancing over the army jacket hung over his shoulders and his last name woven into the emblem over the right chest. Her stance slacked. “Oh my God.”

She raced down the stairs. Before Bucky could get a word in, she threw her arms around his shoulders. He stumbled backwards a few paces, his hand slipping from yours as he stabilized her with a hand to her spine. He was rigid for only a moment, the physical contact of strangers not something he was entirely welcome to, though when you heard her whispering ‘thank you, thank you, thank you,’ as she held onto him, he started to relax.

He brought her nephew home.

“Stay for dinner,” she insisted as she finally released him. “There’s plenty.”

“Oh, I don’t know...” Bucky mumbled, a quick glance at you.

“Your girlfriend is more than welcome, too,” May said, a wink in your direction, before she headed back up the stairs and into the apartment. The smell of garlic bread drifted out into the street and you could practically hear Bucky’s stomach growling.

“I talked to Pietro recently,” Peter offered, a small piece of bait to draw Bucky inside as he began to ascend up the stairs. “He said he saw Rollins in county lockup last week.”

Bucky’s ears perked up, intrigued. Pietro must have been another from their unit and it seemed Bucky wasn’t the only one with a distain for Jack Rollins. He glanced over at you, almost as if asking for permission, and you gave him a smile in return, nudging him towards the door.

“Alright, alright,” Bucky conceded, a slight laugh in his tone. You followed him up the stairs; another stone loose from the baggage chained at his feet.

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x y/n

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praxeus-13 · 3 years ago

Note

Hello! So happy to see a new fic blog, especially one that has fics for the Master! May I request a fluffy Dhawan!Master x reader in which the reader is the doctor’s companion but doesn’t want to admit she’s in love with the Master? And you can choose the circumstances, but maybe the master “captures” and hypnotizes her in front of the fam and she accidentally reveals it? Thank you so much! I loved “warmth” a lot. 🥰🥰🥰♥️♥️♥️

Thank you so much! I absolutely loved this request as I was already planning on writing something along these lines. I couldn’t find a way to get the hypnotism to work but everything else is there so I hope you enjoy!

Well Kept Secrets

Pairing: Dhawan!Master x fem!Reader

Word Count: 2800

Summary: (what the ask says)

For: @agentmalfoy24601

Warnings: None

You really hadn’t meant to fall for The Master, but intention never seemed to stop anyone when it came to falling in love.

When you first met him, as O, you weren’t quite sure what to think. He was a bit strange, but still sweet - and while he wasn’t your type, you couldn’t deny that he was very attractive. However, there were a few moments when you would look at O and see someone else, and that person interested you. Looking back now, you knew that you had seen his persona slip, even if just for a second, and that had been what had drawn you to him.

When he had revealed himself on the plane it had only drawn you in more. Of course, you had been terrified in the life or death situation, but you had also felt a buzz of excitement and intrigue. If he hadn’t have left you to die on that plane, you know that there was a chance you would have gone with him.

Then The Doctor had sent him off to the Kasaarvin’s dimension and you had lost hope of ever seeing him again, only for him to show up two weeks later.

The Doctor had taken you all to some market planet, given you a credit stick and told you to go off and explore. Originally, you had been wandering around with Graham, but then you had gotten sidetracked and lost sight of him. You had also lost sight of anything else that you recognised so you had started to amble around in hopes of finding someone or something to help.

At first, you hadn’t even seen The Master, so focused on your surroundings that you almost walked right into him, and you barely understood what was happening when he grabbed your arm and dragged you down a quiet side alley.

When you had finally recognised who he was and what had happened, you had been to shocked to stutter out a full sentence. That had caused him to smirk and cockily ask if he was the only one who could leave you speechless, which only made you more flustered.

Once you had finally managed to compose yourself you asked how he was alive, a question that he had ignored in favour of pushing you up against the closest wall and kissing you. It took your brain a few seconds to catch up with the fact that he was actually kissing you before you started to kiss back. Then he had swiftly broken off the kiss and told you that he’d be seeing you, before walking out of the alleyway and back into the bustling streets.

By the time you had finally made it back to the rest of the group, you had managed to get your brain back to its normal working order. Though, when your friends asked you where you had been you told them you simply told them that you had gotten lost after spotting something interesting, resolving not to bring up The Master at all.

True to his promise, he had shown up again about a week after that, kissing you senseless yet again and leaving with little explanation.

After this happened a few times, always when you got separated from the group, you started to have proper conversations with each other. A first they were only about whatever trouble he had caused on the planet to distract The Doctor with, but soon you had started to talk to each other more and more about your lives. He wasn’t as stingy on details as The Doctor was, but you could tell he was still keeping quite a bit of information from you.

Then he started showing up at your apartment, which was a little bit concerning, but he always knocked rather than just bursting in like you knew The Doctor would, so you didn’t really mind. Soon enough your relationship had changed from just meeting up and making out for five minutes, to meeting up and talking for a few hours. Though it was slow, you felt yourself start to fall in love with this strange alien man.

Of course, this caused a lot of internal conflict, especially considering you were still travelling with The Doctor and the rest of the fam. You knew that they were your friends - practically a second family at this point - but you feared that if they ever found out about your relationship with The Master you would loose them. So you kept quiet and tried to pretend that you weren’t secretly dating the man who had tried to kill you all. Every time the two of you met up on one of your trips with The Doctor was both exhilarating and frightening, and while you loved seeing him all the time you were always worried that one of your friends would catch you with him.

When The Master invited you to travel with him instead of The Doctor several months into your relationship, you didn’t quite know what to say. You knew that you loved him, but you had never been able to say it aloud, and you weren’t even sure if he loved you back. As well, it wasn’t like you didn’t like travelling with The Doctor and the fam; it was brilliant, even if you did end up running for your life on most adventures, and you weren’t sure if you were ready to leave them just yet.

Unfortunately, you had taken too long to give The Master an answer, and he ended up storming off without stopping when you cried out his name, not caring to listen to any explanation you had to give.

That had been a month ago and you hadn’t heard a word from him since, which had only upset and worried you. Even if you weren’t ready to travel with him then, you had hoped that you could still be in a relationship with him. You knew that your friends had noticed your mood, and they had all tried to talk to you about it, but you reassured them that you were okay and didn’t say anything more.

————

Now you were on another adventure with your friends, using it again to distract yourself from debating whether you and The Master had broken up or whether he was going to randomly show up and pretend that nothing happened. The planet that you had landed on was overrun with nature, and the ruins of whatever civilisation had been there previously were barely noticeable.

Somehow The Doctor had managed to find a very large cathedral-like building that was still mostly in tact, which was what you were currently exploring.

Without any warning you were grabbed from behind and pulled into someone’s tight grip, causing you to yelp and try to struggle away. Then you noticed who exactly had a hold of you and you stopped struggling as much, making a conscious effort to not relax completely into the hold that you had gotten so used to after the last few month.

Your friends had turned around at the noises and their faces were now a mix of anger and concern, glaring at The Master.

“Let her go.” The Doctor told him, her tone indicating her worry.

“Well, I would, but I think (y/n) is quite comfortable in my arms Doctor.” He spat his response at her, tightening his grip further, but still making sure not to hurt you.

You were trying to resist looking up at him, because you knew you wouldn’t be able to hide the love that your expression would hold.

“No, you’re scaring her, now let her go and I might consider giving you whatever you’ve come here for.”

In your chest your heartbeat had started to pick up speed, you could see that The Master was trying to let onto your friends about your relationship, and you only hoped that he wouldn’t actually say anything.

“Hmm, seems I know your companion better than you.” At this comment you finally looked at him, hoping that he would see the look in your eyes and just walk away without saying anything.

He didn’t look down at you though, and just stayed glaring at The Doctor.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” The Doctor was starting to sound irritated, but there was a hint of fear in her voice as well.

Still trying to stop him from revealing your relationship, you squeezed his hand and tried to get his attention. Unfortunately, he continued to ignore you, and you started to feel much more anxious.

The Master let out a hysteric sounding laugh at The Doctor’s question, and it wasn’t anything like the soft laugh you had grown used to. Though you hated to admit it, he was starting to scare you.

“You don’t even have a clue of what I’m talking about.”

Looking back at the four of them to gauge their reactions, you could see that Yaz and The Doctor were very close to piecing it all together, and Ryan and Graham wouldn’t be too far behind. Instinctively, you pressed further into The Master’s hold, trying to feel some semblance of comfort or safety. Obviously he knew what you were trying to do, he had gotten used to you snuggling close to him whenever you watched a scary movie or had a nightmare, and, either consciously or unconsciously, he started to stroke the back of your hand with his thumb.

“No…” The Doctor’s gasp could barely be heard, but it still caused your gaze to fall to the floor in shame.

You knew that you probably shouldn’t love him, but you did, and now you were going to face the consequences. All you hoped is that after loosing your friends, you wouldn’t loose The Master too.

“Yes.” The Master replied gleefully.

“You can’t- you must have hypnotised (y/n)! She wouldn’t willingly enter a relationship with you.”

“Well, clearly she would, because she did. I haven’t hypnotised her, or threatened her, or drugged her. (Y/n) is with me by choice.” The Master was very clearly pissed off at the implementation that he would do anything to injure you.

Honestly, you were slightly annoyed at it too, the only time he had ever come close to harming you had been on Barton’s plane, and you had gotten out of that alright in the end. You squeezed his hand for comfort again, and this time he squeezed back, calming you down slightly.

“Stop playing games and give (y/n) back.” The Doctor’s voice sounded almost dangerous now, and you were starting to worry for both your safety and The Master’s.

However, The Master seemed unfazed as he ignored her and continued to hold you, “You know it’s true, I can see it in your eyes, but if you’re still having trouble believing it then why don’t you just ask (y/n)?”

Of course he would put you on the spot, you had known him long enough to realise that this whole setup was coming from a place of vulnerability. He was worried that you were going to leave him, that you didn’t care for him anymore, and instead of talking to you about it he was lashing out. It was something that you had been trying to work on with him, but after your hesitation to answer his proposal of travelling with him, he had jumped to conclusions and this was the result.

The silence after he had told The Doctor to question was so deafening that you swore your frantic heartbeat was echoing around the abandoned building. You forced yourself to look up, to look at The Doctor in the eye, and it seemed to be the push she needed.

“(Y/n)?” She didn’t need to ask the question, it was already hanging in the air.

“I chose to be in a relationship with him, he didn’t force me into it.” And then, much quieter, you added on, “I love him.”

Part of you had hoped that no one would have heard what you said, but the room you were in had been dead silent. The Master’s grip on you relaxed in shock, holding you as though you were fragile enough that you could shatter like glass. You tilted your head towards him so you could see his reaction, still slightly worried that he wouldn’t reciprocate.

He seemed to be staring down at you with awe and love, and you couldn’t quite believe that he was looking at you like that.

“You love me?” He asked you, his voice impossibly soft.

You simply nodded in response, unable to form any words. The Master bought one of his hands up to cup your face lightly, as though he was still afraid of breaking you.

“I love you too.” He was almost whispering when he said it but a smile immediately formed on your face.

He leant in to kiss you and you kissed him back eagerly. Unfortunately the kiss was cut short by a not so subtle cough from the direction of your friends.

Still comfortably in The Master’s hold, you turned to face your friends again, feeling your face heating up as you blushed.

“Okay, am I the only one who’s really confused?” Ryan asked, looking around at the rest of your friends for confirmation.

He got a chorus of ‘no’s’ in response and if it wasn’t such a strange situation you might have laughed.

“Yeah, how come you’re in love with the guy who tried to kill us? Cause I feel like I’ve missed a lot.” Graham asked, as clueless as he usually was.

“I’m pretty sure that (y/n) has been secretly dating The Master.” Yaz piped up, and you were slightly glad that she had answered for you.

“Yeah that’s basically the gist of it.” You laughed awkwardly, yet again squeezing The Master’s hand for comfort.

They seemed to mull over this for a few minutes, before The Doctor finally spoke up again.

“(Y/n), are you sure that you want to be with him?” She asked you, and for once it was a question that you could answer easily.

“Yes, I am.” You smiled at her, and you knew that The Master was probably smiling at you.

“Then I suppose I can’t do anything to stop you from loving him.” Then she turned her focus to The Master, “but if you hurt her expect serious consequences!”

He rolled his eyes, “I wouldn’t expect anything less, but I won’t hurt them.”

The Doctor and your other friends then proceeded to interrogate the two of you (though they were mainly focused on The Master) about your relationship. Even if it was slightly annoying, you appreciated their concern and protectiveness over you. During the ordeal The Master constantly acted as though he was extremely annoyed and offended at their interrogation, though you could tell that he was glad you had such good friends - even if one of them was his best enemy.

Eventually the six of you made it back to the two TARDISes, and you all paused outside. He hadn’t bought up the question of whether you would join him in his TARDIS since the first time, and you were still slightly worried that you had missed your opportunity.

Then he turned to you, still holding on of your hands even though you were no longer in his hold, “Want to travel with me?”

He asked with such hope in his expression that you felt your heart melt, even after you had rejected him the first time he was still holding out hope.

A wide grin formed on your face and you nodded, “I’d love to.”

He grinned back and pulled you in for another kiss, much to the disgust of your friends.

The next thirty minutes were spent packing up your possessions and moving them from The Doctor’s TARDIS to The Master’s. That was then followed by teary hugs as you said goodbye to your friends and made promises to call and meet up with them whenever you were all on Earth at the same time. The Doctor made sure that you knew to call her if anything ever went wrong, promising that she’d be there immediately.

Despite the grief that you felt leaving your friends and that chapter of your life behind, you were eager to start travelling with The Master and to see how your relationship would develop. The Doctor, Graham, Ryan and Yaz had definitely become a second family to you, but you knew that this wasn’t going to be the last time you saw any of them.

Holding The Master’s hand, you let him pull you into his TARDIS as you waved goodbye to your friends, before turning around and beaming at him. As soon as the door was shut he pushed you up against it and kissed you senseless - reminding you very much of your first kiss with him.

“Where to first, love?” The Master asked as he brushed a stray piece of hair away from your face.

“Anywhere, as long as it’s by your side.”

#the master x reader #dhawan!master x reader #dhawan!master

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sugaftrm · 4 years ago

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♡ sweet sope ♡

love notes for my mutuals hi everyone, this past week has been full of extra love and wanted to share my appreciation, not just for this joyful community, but for the people who brighten up each day with their presence!

@blueandtaes - hi my sib, i love you. being in this fandom together is a godsend. through the weeping, the cackling, the impulse purchases, the city adventures and home dance parties, i’m so blessed to be doing it all with you.

@zmalik - sabrina shonaaaa you’re one of the first people i followed on this website (i legit think you were the second person after my sister), i dont know why you followed when you did since i was a chaotic mess back then but i am so so thankful that you did! i remember our early convos and i still fantasize about deshi food hangouts in the city, whether that’s yours or mine. you’re the kind of person who in many ways I aspire to be, because you say what’s on your mind without the fluff. I’ve been meaning to ask you why you hate ji changwook btw but I’ve been scared! one day let’s talk about it over chaa nastha? Love you, and sending all my affection to you and ur new kitten!! @yoonglet - hello angel aahana! I feel as though no matter how I try to word how I feel about you, it will always fall short. You are one of the most generous, strong-willed, friendly people I know. Your aura is bright and I am so honored to witness you, even if it’s through this limited window of armytumblr. thank you for believing in me, when I didn’t believe in myself! Your support means everything <3 @artsyjoons - anj! i distinctly remember an early convo we had where we were talking about namjoon doing an srk pose lmfao thank you for understanding what i was rambling about in the tags and initiating a convo with me! every morning i wake up and i see you enriching my feed with your thoughts, your humor, and your captivating energy! please share with me the secret to being so sweet and cool?? @rosebowl - my sweetheart Sharika, when I think about you honestly… I feel anxious and giddy! Because I wonder what luck I must have accidentally stumbled upon to find a desi army friend right here in New York, and that too someone who shares so many of my own values and interests!!?? Sounds like a dream, hope I never wake up! My adoration for you grows every day, please know that I am rooting for you and support you, just how you show up endlessly for all of us! Can’t wait for our future adventures xoxoxo @taefiore - hi my darling raabia! (I hope you’re resting and not stressing when you read this, but if you are stressed I hope this makes you smile) I feel like I have to thank run-on for bringing us together?? I have enjoyed every single one of our conversations and interactions, you’re easily one of the most clever and sweet people on this site! thank you for listening to my dreams, for all your kind/witty commentary on things I post, and for being an all-around incredible person! i know how hard you work and I hope your future is just as bright as you are, love you! @bibillyhillsbaby - lovely helena, are your legs tired? Cus you’re running through my mind oooooh! we’ve said this to each other many times, how fun it is to chat about shows, about our love for these men,™ and more! but have I told you about the times you’ve generated warmth and peace for my soul? your compassion has not gone unnoticed dear friend <3 you’ve made so many of us laugh and smile, lended kind words when we’ve needed them the most. I hope that when you see flowers and trees, you think of all our love blossoming for you! @kithtaehyung - oh ryen! when you created the ‘still with you’ gfx you officially stole my heart! but then you went and kept it for good when you made the ‘magic shop’ gfx during a challenging time in my life. your empathy and your cheerfulness was a clearing for my foggy mind! you’re a stellar person and i get such a burst of joy when i see you on my feed. if i could handwrite notes for you everyday, i would! <3 @pinkjjoon - sara i can’t remember our first conversation, but i could’ve swore it had something to do with the term “namjaan” lmao! though we’re timezones apart, i am glad the internet brought us together cus i really need more desi army visibility! i appreciate your candidness, your humor, as well as your kind words during hard times. i hope bts gets their act together and holds a concert where you are cus you more than deserve it! @hazeltae - allison, ive been trying to put to words why i feel so drawn to you and why you always make my day and i think it’s bc you’re a capricorn sun/pisces moon!!! no wonder you have this way of making people feel steady, held while also relating to them on an emotional level! i love talking to you about rj, about yoongi, about totally normal shopping habits <3 thank you for all that you are and for being such a sweetheart! @gimbapchefs - hello nat!! even though we’re newer mutuals, there’s such a refreshing ease in our conversations that i truly appreciate! i find myself resonating with your thoughts and reactions, and cackling at things you reflect in the tags! i also admire your dedication to your studies, even when you get a little distracted ;) we need more people like you in the field, i’m so excited to see where your journey takes you! @intronnevermind - hi raf! it’s such a pleasure to be connected here! we haven’t spoken much but your posts and content leave me with a great sense of joy/admiration! i am so impressed by your style and am looking forward to anything you create in the future. thank you for sharing sweet remarks about my amateur content and for being such a lovely part of this community! @ourownwings - wings :) i am so in awe of the creations you provide for the community and all the tender labor that goes into relaying the BU stories here! i can only imagine the time it takes to do that, but you’ve done above and beyond - and i’m so proud of your milestone! i was delighted to chat with your about your life outside tumblr, and wish you all the best in your future endeavors! thank you for being such a sweet, supportive presence in my orbit! @jintae - padya, it’s likely you’ll see this if/when you return from your hiatus but you should know that i appreciate our exchanges and how excited i was to connect with another nyc bengali army! i hope you are taking care and finding enjoyment during your days <3 i think about your written piece about the impact bts has had on you as well as the publication you created for the community, and am so proud to know that you’ve spearheaded these meaningful spaces for others. i hope our bond can grow over time, universe-willing, and that you get every happiness you absolutely deserve!

to my lovely mutuals who amaze me every time with their creations & their talent, and have given me much laughter/much comfort, i am grateful for you. i have much warmth in my heart for you all and appreciate the conversations we’ve had about life, about bangtan, and anything in between. thank you for being here: @duckjinnie @ayosuuga @yoongisshadow @userjiminie @jinbestboy @mykrokosmos @marvelousbangtan @jimindelune @floraljimin @flowerseokjin @dinamitae @zhujieqiong @thegoddessly @kooseokss @dalbichigom @jinjagi @joonsrack

#well in true t fashion #i poured out my soul when no one asked for it???#i'm sorry.... for the rambling but you all signed up for this when you became mutuals with an emotional psychotherapist #i also apologize if i left anyone out!!#ALSO no pressure to reply to this!!!#i really wasnt expecting to do much connecting when i started this blog not too long ago #but here you all are and i feel so blessed #glad we're all here going through the motions of being bts fans together #i picked this sope moment bc in my mind we're laughing together while listening to music #and being sweet and tender with one another #:]#mygifs

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gorogues · 3 years ago

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Spoilers for comics in March 2022!

DC is doing a Black Label AU story about the Rogues! It’ll be written by Joshua Williamson and drawn by Italian artist Leomacs, and will be a premium format future story that is definitely an AU and will be more of a crime drama heist story than superhero stuff.

The story as stated at Newsarama:

After plaguing Flash and the DCU for decades, the super-speedster's memorable team of adversaries, the Rogues, are stepping out into their own series - and as you'd hope given the likes of Captain Cold, it's for mature readers only.

Joshua Williamson, who wrote the main Flash title from 2016 to 2019, returns to Central City - but this time to focus on the villains - in this new four-issue Rogues series drawn by Leomacs.

Williamson and Leomacs are revisiting the Rogues in this out-of-continuity tale that finds the villains retired - but pulled back into crime for one last score. Echoing classic films such as Blade Runner and Heat, Rogues aims to bring out the best in the worst of the best Flash villains around.

"Rogues are unlike anything I've done at DC," Williamson says in the announcement. "It's closer to my own creator-owned works. It's a crime book full of super-science, dark humor, lost civilizations, and crazy action set pieces, but it's all played straight, with the dark edge and morality-play qualities of classic noir stories."

Set in the near-future, Rogues picks up 10 years after the crime gang disbanded, but the intervening years haven't been kind to the criminals - with DC noting they've gone through "an endless cycle of prison, rehab, dead-end jobs, broken relationships, probation, and bottomless restitution fees…"

But their former leader, Captain Cold, has found a way out, however. At least he thinks. The score? The world's largest stockpile of undocumented, untraceable gold. The only problem is that its safely ensconced in Gorilla City under the firm protection of another Flash villain, Gorilla Grodd - who in this alt-universe has become one of the biggest crime bosses in the world.

"Rogues take everything we love about these classic characters and send them violently crashing into a noir story that makes the ideal DC Black Label series," says the writer.

Leomacs is best known for his work on the recent Joe Hill/DC series Basketful of Heads, and has done remarkable work on the European comic franchise Tex and Dylan Dog.

"I was amazed by Leomacs' work in Basketful of Heads," says Williamson. "It knocked me off my feet. So when I found out he was interested in working on Rogues, I was super excited. When I saw his first pages for issue #1, they completely exceeded my expectations. Working with him brings an incredible amount of thoughtfulness and insight into the world of the Rogues."

"I love this series because it's the twisted, blackhearted mirror of our current DC Black Label title Catwoman: Lonely City," DC Black Label group editor Chris Conroy says. "While that story is a love letter to the Gotham-villain milieu, Josh and Leomacs are going to show the Rogues some tough love. Very, very tough. When the editorial team saw this pitch, we knew it was a slam dunk—Josh understands the world of the Flash inside and out, and no one has ever written a more terrifying Gorilla Grodd."

Williamson and Leomacs are joined by colorist Mat Lopes and letterer Hassan Otsmane-Elhaou.

Sam Wolfe Connelly has drawn the primary cover for Rogues #1, with variants planned by Leomacs and Michael Cho.

Rogues #1 (of 4) goes on sale on March 22.

#Captain Cold #Golden Glider #Heat Wave #Mirror Master #Captain Boomerang #the Trickster #Weather Wizard #Rainbow Raider #Gorilla Grodd #Tigress #Killer Croc #Bronze Tiger #Clock King #spoilers: comics #horror #Rogues Black Label series

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shreddedparchment · 4 years ago

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A World of Our Own Pt.10

Epilogue

10/11/2020

Pairing: Bucky x Reader Word Count: 1,615

Warnings: allusions to miscarriage, LOTS of fluff, past death

A/N: I know I haven’t replied to many comments or asks from the previous chapter but I wanted to get this out as quickly as possible so that the story would be truly closed. The ending was incomplete and now it is done and I hope you enjoy this ending as much as I do. It really made me so happy to write and this is the ending these babies deserve after being blown up and deserted on an island. If you happen to reblog, thanks so much for helping me spread my work! xoxo

Life doesn’t happen like we think it will.

We can plan and schedule and arrange as much as you’d like, but things will just not go your way.

As the ship docks, you sigh with frustration, rising to your feet to look through the porthole.

“We’re late.” You grumble, glaring at the darkening sky. “We were supposed to be here by noon. That way we had plenty of time to look around and make sure it’s safe.”

“Kitten, come here.” Bucky holds his arm out towards you without looking up from the small tablet in his hands.

There’s a weather radar on one half of the screen and on the bottom, an email. Probably from Fury.

You make a reluctant beeline for him, sitting on his lap when he urges you to, wrapping his arm around your waist.

With a lick to his lips, he puts the tablet down on the small bedside table—bolted down to keep from moving in rough seas—and brings his other arm around you.

“What did you just tell me last week?”

“I don’t know.” You shrug, pretending you can’t remember.

“Yes, you do, Y/N. What did you so passionately talk my ear off and insist that I remind you, especially on this very trip, if you begin to slide back on your newest and most important—your words by the way—resolution in life? What was it?” Bucky pokes your leg as he speaks, then wraps his arm back around your waist and gives you a squeeze.

“Not to stress about the things in life that I cannot control.” You sigh. “Out of all the damn things I’ve told you, why is this one the one you remember?”

“Because you wouldn’t stop talking about it for an entire day!” Bucky chuckles. “We’re a little late? So what? We have plenty of time. This is supposed to be our honeymoon. Let’s just let go of everything and enjoy our time here.”

“I know, I’m sorry. I just…I wanted everything to be right.” You nod.

“It will be. We bought the island. They’ve been working on it for a year. I’m sure everything will be perfect.” Bucky soothes you, reaching up to rub between your shoulders. “You approved all the changes. They said it was done. What are you worried about? Specifically. Help me to understand this anxiety you’re feeling.”

You grab Bucky’s face and pull his lips to yours roughly. He mumbles against your lips, a small huff of a laugh seeping through.

When you pull away, he laughs. “Ow.”

“I just…we haven’t been back here in years, Bucky. And I want it to be safer than when we left it.”

Bucky’s eyes are full of sudden understanding.

“I see.” He gets to his feet as the large yacht finally stops, helping you stand too before taking your hand in his own. “Come on. Let’s go see it. You kept the hut, right?”

“I kept everything.” You tell him, following him along the narrow white hallway, pristine wooden floors varnished and gleaming. “I just had them upgrade most of it.”

“I like your dress.” Bucky states, giving your outfit a quick once over even though you’d been wearing it for the better part of the day.

You smile bright however, pleased by the compliment before you stop, grab hold of the intentionally designed a-symmetrical dress and swing it back and forth. It’s navy with pink pansy florals and light green leaves, the top more modest than the one you owned before. Capped sleeves and a lovely heart neckline, a very thin strip of pink lace along the hem.

Bucky stops with you, smiling at the shift in your attitude with one simple acknowledgment of your reference to your first time on the island.

“How many times did we end up cutting off pieces of that first dress?” Bucky wonders, letting you think.

“Too many.” You acknowledge. “It was more of a shirt by the time we left.”

Bucky lifts your left hand up to his lips, kissing your simple solitaire engagement ring, your matching wedding band also on your finger.

“Well, we won’t have to cut any of this one off. I promise.” He assures you then pulls you along once again.

Bucky makes you wait. He makes you stay behind as the two of you reach the deck of the yacht—the Paradise Lost as you’d named it—while he steps onto the long and reinforced pier.

It stretches out on the same beach where the cabin of the plane had once stood, now relocated, and honored on another part of the island for the lives that had been lost.

The graves Bucky had dug had been remade, a small graveyard built to give the pilot and stewardess a proper resting place.

You can see it from the deck, a little farther inland where you’d had a cobbled path built to lead to it from the pier.

Making a mental note to tell Bucky you want the Stewardess’s family invited to give them a chance to say goodbye. You’re not sure if you’ll be able to get them here with the secrets surrounding the plane, but you can try.

Bucky comes back fairly quickly and waves you over. Eagerly you make your way to him.

“What happened?” You ask him but he gestures towards an older gentleman on the beach.

“Mr. Lara wants to talk to you about the chef’s supplies. Looks like there was a delay in the shipment.” Bucky tells you, then hurries past you. “Don’t worry, I’ll get our bags.”

“Bucky, we’re paying people to do that!” You call after him, but he waves you off and you turn to meet with Mr. Lara.

The island, while still massively private, has been built up like a small resort. There’s your hut, which the basic structure is the same but to it have been added a full chef’s kitchen. Several bedrooms. A living room. A master bedroom and access to the beach and a private pier.

There’s a beach barbecue patio and lounge chairs. Hidden behind the hut right in the spot Bucky built it, is the bathing pool, now with built in filtration, temperature control and more sustainable materials so that it will endure.

Your little island, the world you and Bucky created was given a full makeover. You’d always known you wanted to come back. You’d hated being stranded but the memories and the connections you’d formed here were special.

After assuring Mr. Lara that you have enough provisions on the yacht to last you until the grocery delivery arrives, you make your way back to see what’s keeping Bucky.

You’re nearly there when Bucky’s sweet chuckle stops you in your tracks. He takes the ramp onto the pier and with his hand still extended towards the yacht, you wait, your heart swelling.

“Careful.” You tell him, but he doesn’t need you to remind him.

Into view toddles a black-haired angel, eyes just as blue as his father’s. Just as you had when you’d thought about the possibility of a child with Bucky how beautiful it would be to see a mini version of him with your temper running around, it’s just so.

You wait with patience, his legs sure though slightly unsteady. His eyes scanning the area with inquisitive gusto.

He’s only just two years old but he’s already smart as a whip and when he spots you, he gasps with excitement and as soon as his little feet hit the pier, he releases Bucky’s hand and races for you.

You stoop down to scoop him and chuckle as he laughs, wrapping his arms around your neck.

“There’s my big boy.” You coo, pressing a kiss to his cheek before he can pull away. “Where are we, Robin? Do you know where this place is?”

As he straightens up, he points towards the shore. “Beesh!”

“That’s right. We’re at a beach. This is an island, Robin.” You explain, moving down the pier with him in your arms.

“I-wan.” He repeats, then giggles before squirming from your grip. “Woah, easy.”

Bucky moves forward and stops the little one before he can run.

“Hey bud, we can run down the pier and play in the sand, but you have to make me a deal, okay?”

Robin lifts his little hand up, bent at the elbow with his palm turned up as he shrugs. “Dew?”

“Yeah. We can run down to the beach if you hold my hand. Okay? The water is very deep, and mommy will cry if you fall in. You don’t want mommy to cry, do you?”

“No!” Robin exclaims, his little face suddenly angry, eyebrows drawn down on the inner corners in an exaggerated expression. “Mommy no cwy!”

“Then you’ll hold my hand?” Bucky asks, holding it out for him.

Without another word Robin takes hold of Bucky’s hand ad doesn’t wait before he’s pulling him along as fast as his little legs can.

“Be careful!” You call after them but they’re not listening anymore.

Life doesn’t function according to your plan.

While you were planning your wedding, Robin came as a sweet surprise. You postponed the wedding and instead celebrated the birth of your rainbow. Much sooner than expected but welcomed all the same.

Then you and Bucky took time to nurture your son and the wedding was finally held only two weeks ago. Honeymoon delayed to make certain the island was safe for you baby.

And although you’re saving the news for the right time, you hope that you can convince Bucky to stay here for a while, at least until your second little one comes. Just another seven months.

#bucky barnes x reader #castaway au #winter soldier x reader #a world of our own #awooo #marvel fanfiction #marvel au #bucky x reader fanfic #bucky x reader fic #bucky x reader fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader fic #bucky barnes x reader fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader fanfic

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starkerforlife6969 · 4 years ago

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He’s Just Not that Into You- Starker AU

It's the first week of summer and Peter's got a date.

Jacob is nice, and Peter's changed his shirt three times, and the bar is warm on this June evening, and thriving. Dancing bachelorette parties, the game on the big screen tvs hanging from the ceiling and-

Jacob's twenty minutes late.

But that's fine, Peter's fine, he pulls at his cuffs, tucks a curl behind his ear, bites his lip, refuses the temptation to look at his phone.

Maybe he should call Ned, Ned would know what to do-

"You waiting for someone, gorgeous?"

Peter looks up, feels colour rush to his cheeks. Dark eyes, a mouth that's sinful, smirking, in a tight fitting shirt and- "Oh um, no-yes- I mean." Peter manages a smile. "I might've been stood up? But, he probably- something probably came up. Or maybe I had the date wrong."

Smirk looks at him. Sizes him up. "Let me buy you a drink, bambi." He says.

After two drinks, Peter Parker thinks Tony Stark might be his saviour.

He's twenty two, the same age as Peter, but he's got it all- got it all figured out.

"So- Jacob didn't really like me. The phone number was fake." He realises aloud.

"If the guy likes you," Tony nods sagely, sipping his dakiri, "he'll take your number and give you his. He gave you a fake number, bet he didn't ask for yours, right?"

Peter wilts a little. Sighing at his own foolishness. "Right. I thought we had a good time."

Tony reaches over to nudge him. "You need to know what to look for, that's all. When to reel them in. When to get keen. I know guys like you, sweet guys- no disrespect, but you take every little thing as some sort of sign. Oh, he smiled at me or he picked up my pen-"

"But he smiled at me and he did not smile at anyone else-"

"Pete," Tony chuckles, "romcoms have ruined you. Naive-"

"Optimistic."

"Naive." Tony insists, bright-eyed. "Just because you met in a library and you both reached for the same edition of Harry Potter at the same time-"

Peter smacks him. "You're such a Slytherin." He glares.

Tony winks at him. "Hufflepuff, you gotta know how to play the game."

Peter mixes his drink. Muses. "I didn't think love was a game." He admits softly, deflating. The bar's deflated a little now too. Emptier. The TVs are off. The music is quiet and gentle. Here are he and Tony, cluttered over a small table.

"Love is a game, Peter. And we're gonna help you win."

They stay there for a few hours yet. Going over Peter's past relationships. Flash, MJ, Gwen, Jacob-

Going over Peter's blind date tactics, how to read people, how to know when to cut the chord- but Tony doesn't mind Peter's bumbling idiocy. He likes helping people. And Peter's sweet, the sort of sweet Tony hasn't seen in a long time. That isn't available in the private boarding schools he grew up in. That wasn't allowed through the pristine hard wood front doors.

"Oh, hey," Peter says, slurring just a little. The drinks he'd had were mostly sugar, not alcohol. "It's empty- is it closed?" He gapes, looking around, all fawn-like.

"It's fine, bambi," Tony grins, sliding his arm under Peter's, guiding him to the door. "My dad owns the place. I'll lock up. You all good getting home?"

"I'll call a cab." Peter nods, wincing at the cool night air. Tony locks up, before turning to look down at his new friend.

"It's good meeting you, Pete." He says, grinning, and Peter beams up at him.

"I know you said not to read into anything, but- wouldn't it be romantic if we fell in love? Like, you saved me from being stood up-"

Tony clamps his hand over Peter's mouth, tutting fondly. This kid. "Not that kinda movie, sweetheart. I'll be the mentor. The guide. The Yoda to your Luke."

Peter nods, and Tony removes his hand. Peter smiles beatifically up at him. "Alright. Thank you, sensei. I will resolve to follow your council."

Tony likes him. Wants to see him do well. Had hated the sight of the kid (not a kid, the same age, but Peter doesn't seem it. Full of idealism and princess stories) being stood up. Tony wants to see him happy. In love. Not getting played. Just because it's not for Tony, doesn't mean he doesn't want Peter to have it. "Here, take my number." Tony says, taking Peter's phone, typing in his number and sending himself a text. "Call me whenever you have a question."

Peter takes the phone gratefully. Cradles it in his palm. "Take you up on that I will."

Tony flicks his head. "I'm Yoda, nitwit."

"Hurt that did." Peter pouts, and Tony laughs into the night air, and hopes Peter calls.

Beck is hot, hard muscle, and Peter's only slightly uncomfortable from his position being pinned on the couch- the bony arm rest digging into his back, but that's all fine, because Beck tastes like toothpaste and his hands make Peter shudder-

They'd met yesterday, at a coffee shop. They'd both reached for the pumpkin spiced latte. Had both laughed. Exchanged numbers. It was a perfect meet-cute.

And Beck had called Peter. He's reading all the signs right, he's sure of it.

Peter curses when his phone buzzes. His boss wants his article done by tonight. New deadline. He sighs, pulling out from Beck's grip. "Sorry," he says earnestly, "I've gotta go. My boss needs this."

Beck nods, flushed, half-hard, hair falling attractively into his face. "I get it, but you can do your work here? Hm? I'll order take out, you can spend the night..."

Beck's hands slide up Peter's shirt, massage the taut muscle there. Peter relaxes into the touch, just a little. "That sounds nice..." he confesses, before laughing, "but I would never get anything done with you here."

Beck kisses his neck, bristly, goose-bump inducing. "Would that be so bad?" He murmurs.

"I really can't..."

"It just sucks," Beck sighs, pulling away. "Because I'm going out of town tomorrow and won't be in touch for a while. I'll just miss you."

Out of town? Peter's head rings. He's not sure what to make of it. Is it a play? Does Beck like him? Does he just want sex? If Peter stays tonight, will he never see Beck again?

"Can I go to the bathroom?" He blurts, like he's in school and Beck blinks at him, bewildered, but gestures with his hand.

He finds Tony's number under Sexy Yoda which is just- mental images that Peter does not need right now- and he dials.

"Pete, you called." Tony says warmly, answering on the second ring.

"Oh hey, hi- Tony," Peter bleats, sitting on the bathtub and thrumming his fingers. "I'm in a situation- need advice."

"Ah, amazing- one sec." Then, quieter, "Hey, Pep, d'ya mind? I'll be back in 10."

"Hope I'm not interrupting!"

"Not at all. So, where we at?"

"Okay, so, making out- I say I have to go, he says I should stay- I say I can't- then he says that he'll be leaving tomorrow so will be out of touch."

"Run." Tony says immediately, and Peter's face falls.

"What? No," he whines, "What if he really is just going out of town?"

"Peter." Tony says, in that no-nonsense voice, "Where could he possibly be going in the world that would mean he couldn't talk to you over the phone? He wants a hook up. Do you want a hook up?"

Miserably: "No."

"Well then, like I said: Run."

Peter sighs. "So, he doesn't like me?"

"Sure he likes you. Likes the thought of you in his bed. Who wouldn't? You're very cute. But he does not want a relationship. I sure don't respect the guy for trying to trick you into it, I'm upfront with all my one-night stands. It's just sex: nothing more."

"I'm thrilled for you." Peter remarks dryly. "So, run?"

"Run."

Peter runs.

***

In yoga class, the new instructor, Stephen, compliments his form and then asks him out to dinner.

"Run." Tony says, mouthful of something, on his lunch break.

Peter pecks at his own chicken salad. "Why? We haven't even gone out yet."

"Pete, do I have to spell it out for you? Yoga? Bending over, flexibility, bet you've got tight yoga pants and everything."

Peter wipes a drop of dressing off his keyboard. "Not everyone is as physically minded as you are. Maybe he thought we'd get on."

"He's asked you out based on nothing but the way you look doing the downward dog. Waste of time."

"I think you're wrong. I'm going to meet him for dinner."

Tony sighs. It crinkles down the receiver with disapproval. "Go for it. I'll eagerly await your apology."

When Peter does apologise, two days later, Tony is nice enough not to rub it in.

***

Mr Jameson is tough on the edges, but a softie deep down, Peter knows that.

Which is why he tries not to let the very brutal edits on his latest piece get him down. They're all very fair. So, he works through them methodically, learning, trying to improve, and not let them get him down.

It's late afternoon, he's in the zone, when his phone buzzes.

He picks it up absentmindedly, one knee drawn to his chest on his bed, other hand still scrolling through the word document.

"Hello?"

"Hey Pete, how goes the search for love?"

"Tony." Peter beams, warm all over, pushing away his laptop and collapsing back into his pillows. "How are you?"

"Good, good, bar's busy. Dad's happy enough with me managing it. New receptionist hates me, though."

"Pepper?"

"Yeah. I told her it was just sex- she misread the signs. Don't be like her, Peter."

"If a person wants to be with you, they'll ask you out, they'll make it happen." Peter recites: Tony's number one rule.

"Atta boy. What about you? Jameson like your piece?"

"A few edits. I'm working through them now. Actually- the photographer, Eddy, he's nice, handsome, might be into me?"

"Might?"

"Well, I don't know. He's never said anything. Am I allowed to ask anyone out? Or is that against the rules?"

"You can definitely ask someone out." Tony hums, "just make sure you can read their response. Ask him out, if he's busy- he's not into you. If he leaps at the chance, well, you've nailed it."

"Okay," Peter nods, excited. "Where should I ask him to go? Dinner? Is that too boring?"

"Hockey game, a movie, hell, a stake-out, it doesn't matter, just don't read into anything that isn't there."

"I won't. Thanks for the help, Tony, really," Peter says, "And sorry to call you on a Saturday."

"No worries, Bambi. Let me know how it goes with Eddy."

"Let me know if Pepper forgives you!"

Peter falls back into his work. Doesn't realise until just before he goes to sleep that actually- Tony called him.

***

"He said no." Comes Peter's voice through the ear-piece, as Tony debates whether to make himself a kale or spinach smoothie at home later. Both packs of green look equally healthy.

Tony dumps them both in the basket. Ignores the guy leering at him in favour of turning Peter up a little. "I'm sorry, kid. But better you know now than later, right?"

When Peter speaks, his throat sounds clogged "I guess." He says forlornly.

Tony cocks his head. Listens. Thinks. "How far into that tub of Ben and Jerry's are you, Pete?"

A pause. Tony grins: got him.

"I'm not...It's chocolate Fudge. There's um..." a spoon scrapes again soggy paper, "not much left?"

"No wallowing, rule number two, you know that."

"I know." Peter whines, "but I thought he liked me, maybe he did- you know he said, he was going through something right now, a recent break up, but that maybe someday-"

"It's a brush off." Tony insists, "don't read into anything that isn't there-"

"Maybe he did really just-"

"Okay." Tony says, setting his basket on the conveyer belt and pinching the bridge of his nose. "We need to get you back on the horse. I know a guy who might be into you: Steve. Wholesome, boring sort. Your kind of guy?"

"Well, when you say it like that, how can I resist?"

Tony shakes his head, smiling. "C'mon now, he's handsome. Very American. Tall, blonde, served in the Army for a bit, now he's some sort of do-gooder activist."

"Well that doesn't sound- so bad."

"And the best part? I think he might like you."

"I was beginning to think that was impossible."

Tony hands over his card, snorting. "No pity parties. You're easy on the eyes. Got those big bambi ones, those little freckles, long legs too, considering you're so short. It's nice. It's a good look." He can picture it, actually, those long legs wrapped around his hips. Peter's slender neck, fluffy hair spread out over the pillow- he needs to get laid today. Again. "I'll invite him to dinner, introduce the two of you. How's tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow?" Peter squeals, excited, the sound of an empty ice cream tub being tossed aside. "I haven't got anything to wear."

Tony thinks of Peter's cream skin. Of his honey eyes. "Something tight. Maroon if you have it, anything sheer. Please, for god's sake, not that mustard monstrosity."

"I love that sweater!"

Tony carries his bags out to the car, feels the warm sun beat down on his face. "Oh hey, it's kinda nice out." He realises.

Peter sighs contentedly over the line. "It really is. DJ Ravioli loves it."

Tony stops by his car. Closes his eyes. "Who the fuck," he says, "is DJ Ravioli?"

"It's my cat-"

"Of course," he laughs, getting into the car, turning on the AC. "Of course it is. In every Romcom, what does the main character have? Some ugly ass cat-"

"Hey!"

"And DJ Ravioli! What kind of a name is that?"

"He's such a cutie-wootie, yes you are my little ravioli-cannoli."

"Goodbye, Peter!" Tony yells, hanging up the call.

He can't stop smiling the rest of the way home.

***

Peter's early. That's because he was raised with Ben's if you're not early, you're late mantra, and now he's sitting in a fancy restaurant, fiddling with the tablecloth.

MJ's done his hair. Crimped and weird, but he thinks overall he looks okay. He's taken Tony's tips, in a thin, flouncy maroon shirt tucked into very tight jeans. He better not eat too much. Not sure he could if he wanted to.

"Good evening, Sir," says the waitress, eyes kind, "are you ready to order?"

"Oh um, not just yet," Peter smiles, "I'm waiting for..." he gestures to the two empty seats.

She nods, stepping back.

Oh god, is he being stood up again-

Relief and pleasure seeps through him as Tony appears. He's in a plain black sweater, but he might as well be a model in how it stretches over him. He leans down, pecks Peter's cheek (warm, he's warm, and he smells like cologne) before collapsing into one of the seats and gesturing the waitress over.

"I messed up, Pete," he says, by way of greeting, having a glance through the menu.

Peter blinks, a little dazed. "Huh?"

"Steve. He's not free tonight. I'll reschedule it, I promise."

"Oh." Peter nods, "okay, so-"

"It's just us two tonight, that alright? You can bear my company?" Tony wiggles his eyebrows, and Peter laughs. His nerves leave him, he can relax now.

"I think I can just about tolerate it. How's Pepper?"

Tony winces.

Peter laughs.

***

Tony, for all his playboy moves, is such a gentlemen, Peter thinks. He'd picked up the whole bill, hadn't given Peter a chance to offer half.

And now Peter's full of lobster, warm and sated, and Tony is a warm line of heat against his back as he unlocks his front door.

"Mm, it's cozy," Tony hums into his ear, as they shuffle inside and Peter closes the door, sleepy and a little- excited. To have Tony here, in his apartment, late at night- "Oh, there he is. Little monster."

And to Peter's surprise, Tony leans down and scoops DJ Ravioli into his arms. The fat cat barely protests, using the new position to stretch his spine.

Peter grins, can't help, it and takes a photo on his phone.

Tony glares at him.

"What?" He giggles, "I thought you didn't like cats."

"Never said I didn't like 'em," Tony hums, thumb rubbing beneath DJ Ravioli's ears, "just said they're a cliche, that's all. In every love story, there's the damn cat. And it hates the bad guy- scratches them up- and loves the good guy, because somehow, the cat knows who you're meant to be with."

Peter lifts his eyebrows. "Well, DJ Ravioli likes you."

"Guess I must be the good guy." Tony quips, rolling his eyes. He takes his own phone out then, arranging himself for a selfie. He'll send it to his mom. The cat blinks lazily at the camera.

Just as Tony takes the picture, Peter slides into frame, stretching onto his tiptoes, finger's bunny ears behind Tony's head.

Tony shoves him playfully. "You're a photo crasher, Peter Parker. A photo bomber. A fiend. A nightmare." He sets the cat down, watches his waddle away. "And you're overfeeding that cat."

Peter flips him the bird then, and is rewarded with Tony's loud bark of laughter.

They drink coffee, Tony judges the way Peter organises his kitchen, and then at 2am, Peter pouts and says:

"These jeans are really tight. Do you mind if I change?"

Tony sips his coffee, side-eyes him. "Don't try to seduce me, Parker."

Peter snorts, grateful to shuffle into his bedroom and peel the jeans off him. He pulls on his Hello Kitty Sweat Pants and an oversized science tee, feeling immeasurably more comfortable. He pulls on his fluffiest socks, feels a little bad he can't offer Tony something to wear. They'd all be too tight.

He presents himself with a twirl. "Seduction at it's finest." He teases, and Tony looks him over; something warm and soft in his gaze that makes Peter blush.

"It's not bad." Tony murmurs, turning back to his coffee cup. "Well, it's-" he clears his throat, "late, Pete. I should go."

Peter wiggles his toes in his socks, wants to crawl into bed. "Okay. Thanks for dinner."

"Thanks for..." Tony looks around, chuckles. "Having me. You should come by tomorrow. See how the other, better half lives."

Peter walks him to the door. Tony stoops down to rub a knuckle along DJ Raviol's back. The tail wraps around his wrist. Tony disentangles himself gently. "Around 6?"

Tony beams at him. "Perfect."

***

When Peter wakes up in the morning, everything becomes clear.

Tony likes him.

He tries not to get swept away in the realisation of it. Tries to be rational, to follow the points.

1) Tony had given Peter his number and taken Peter's.

2) Tony calls him. They talk all night, sometimes. Tony's left dates, make-out sessions, to talk to Peter.

3) The mysterious 'Steve' that never showed up. Or perhaps, never existed at all.

Peter scribbles these into his notebook. Could it be? Tony's so...handsome. Clever. Funny. Why would he be into- but no-

Tony thinks he's handsome. Said so himself. Said Peter had bambi eyes (a pet name- that's a sign, Peter writes it down) and long legs. Said he looked nice in maroon.

They're saved under cute nicknames in each other's phone. DJ Ravioli likes Tony! And there's Tony eyes- something warm and soft that Peter sees from time to time.

And the fact that Tony saved him from being stood up. It's a perfect meet-cute.

Peter squeals. Tony's invited him over tonight. Never pressured him into sex- it must be something.

He spins on the kitchen stool and dreams of happily ever after.

***

The radio plays as they wash the dishes. Tony washes, Peter dries. Their hips bump.

It's nice, Tony thinks, as they hum along. His penthouse- big, empty, most of the times- except when he's having parties loud enough to upset the neighbours, but even those- they don't compare to this quiet company of Peter Parker.

Peter screeches as he hits a high note, so Tony turns the faucet on him, laughing as Peter splutters, slapping him with the rag.

Tony doesn't want to point out he he has dishwasher. He likes this.

Once they're done, he collapses onto the couch, watches as Peter ambles around before coming to stand in front of him. He looks thoughtful. He's wearing that gross mustard sweater that Tony kinda likes now, if only for the way it makes Peter looks soft and cuddly.

"What are you thinking about?" He asks, trying to read Peter's mind. He's good at reading people, great at reading Peter, but not tonight. He can't quite gauge it.

Then Peter, in his ugly sweater, beautiful, with a grace Tony suspected but didn't know Peter possessed- straddles him on the couch, and kisses him.

Tony feels those long legs, spread wide over his own knees, feels the heat of Peter's core, those lily hands against his cheeks, that soft, soft mouth against his own.

He moans appreciatively, opening his mouth, taking control. His own hands coming to wrap around Peter's waist and-

"I knew it," Peter whispers, pleased as punch against his cheek, "we're in love."

Tony splutters, a cold wash of water against the pleasing heat that was working it's way down his body. "We're- what-" he pushes Peter away a little, from where those teeth were nipping his ear.

Peter sits back, still fucking straddling him, still looking as innocent as a wall-flower, one hand still poisoned above Tony's denim-clad dick. "We're in love," Peter repeats, beaming. "We're dating."

Tony scoffs, erection wilting. "Well, gee, Pete, was I ever gonna know about any of this? In what universe are we dating?"

"We-" Peter frowns, swallowing hard. "I- you liked me? The signs-"

"What signs?!" Tony fumes, pressure mounting, pushing on his chest. "Jesus Christ, Pete." He pushes Peter off him, gets to his feet. "What the fuck?"

"I..." Peter sits, mussed, on the couch, staring up at him. "You- you took my number. You call me, S-Steve didn't show up- you- you- we talk all night, we made dinner, we washed up- you came over- I thought-"

"What did I say? What did I say?" Tony hisses, raking his hands through his hair. "If a guy is into you, Peter, he will ask you out. Or you ask him out. Did I ask you out?"

Peter eyes are swimming with tears. He looks flushed with humiliation and great, now Tony's a massive jerk. "N-no."

"Peter." Tony can't look at him, turns and bangs his head against the wall. "Why- why do people do this? Read into nothing. There is nothing between us but friendship. And now..." he whirls back to Peter accusingly. "Now you've ruined our friendship. You look for all these tiny, insignificant moments. I gave you my number because I wanted to help you, Steve genuinely couldn't make the day, I invited you over here because we're friends. I've never made a move on you, never asked you out, and you've never asked me out. You know, you know I don't do relationships. Why? Why do people think that they're the exception? You're not the exception, Pete, you're not gonna change me. You're the rule, and the rule is: if I liked you, I would've asked you out. But I didn't, so I don't."

He has to catch his breath once he's done. Peter's still sitting there, eyes watering- but not crying. The air is tense. Thick.

"God, Pete," Tony says gently, "I don't mean to hurt your feelings, but- no. We're not in a relationship. We're not dating. I'm not into you."

They're mean. Cruel words. But they're true. Tony's a straight-forward, up-front kind of guy. He turns to his kitchen, pours himself a drink. Fuck, what a night.

"I don't want to be like you." Comes the quiet voice from the living room.

Tony sets down the brandy, whirls towards Peter with a scoff. "Excuse me?"

Peter looks up at him, still red-faced, but brave. "I don't want to be like you. Going around, using people. Never finding love, never looking for it. Never getting- excited at a smile, or wondering what your life with someone might be like. I like hoping. I like dreaming and meet-cutes, and big, unrealistic romantic gestures, I like that."

Tony sneers, shaking his head. "Fine. I'll be over here, living in the real world."

Peter gets to his feet, grabs his bag, wipes his face. "You do that, Tony, you live all alone in the real world. You won't find any happiness like that."

"At least I won't get rejected twice a week!" Tony yells, as Peter heads for the door.

Peter turns back, hand on the door knob, angry. "I'd rather get rejected knowing that it means I'm closer to my happily ever after. I'll take rejection after rejection, Tony."

"Well done," Tony claps, "this is another one to add to your dossier."

The door slams and Tony's alone and there's no one to yell at so he throws his glass of brandy across the kitchen. The stupid sturdy glass doesn't even break, the liquid just drips down onto the tile and he'll have to clean it up later.

It's been three days.

Surely Peter's still not angry with him after three days. Sure, Tony said some stuff, but it was- heat of the moment. They're friends.

He rubs his temples, puts down the paper work- can't read the words. He needs to sign off on payrolls, order more stock, sort out the overtime policy-

He takes out his phone. No messages. No calls.

The door opens, and Pepper walks in, professional, the last dredges of her anger with him mostly gone. "Hey Tony, a few more for you to sign." She sets down the papers.

"Thanks," he mutters. No DMs on twitter. Nothing on instagram. He opens Facebook.

"Oh my god."

Tony looks up, startled at Pepper's expression of delight. "What?" He asks, eyes flicking down- nothing on Facebook. Email, maybe?

"Who are they?"

"Who are who?"

"The special someone." She laughs, eyes bright with disbelief. "Who's got you checking your phone obsessively, wondering when they'll call."

"I don't know what you're talking about." Tony says, putting his phone away. "You may go."

"You haven't been able to concentrate all day," she muses, perching on the edge of his desk, perfectly comfortable. He misses the days she couldn't stand to be in the same room as him. "You put Javier on dishes and Rebecca at the bar- rookie error. You keep asking if anyone's called the bar for you- you haven't shaved. And is that the same shirt as yesterday-"

"No." Tony says emphatically, self-conscious and sweaty, "just go. Please."

Pepper gets to her feet, laughs again. "The world of love. Welcome to it, asshole."

When she's gone, Tony sits there. Fingers itching for his phone.

"Shit." He mutters to himself.

***

He sends Peter a message. A text. He says: Pete, I'm sorry about what happened. Can we talk? Brunch, maybe? I want us to be friends.

He doesn't get an answer.

He wants to hurl his phone against the wall in frustration. What the fuck.

He paces relentlessly. Keeps his phone charged.

Peter posts on instagram, it's a photo of DJ Ravioli asleep in a sunbeam, with the caption another nice, sunny day

What does that mean? Tony had said to Peter once that it was a nice day- is this a reference to that? A secret meaning? Should he like the photo? Should he not?

He finds himself driving past Peter's apartment late at night. Sometimes the lights are on. Sometimes they're not.

Tony wonders if he's eating ice cream. If he's in those stupid pyjamas. If Jameson liked the latest revisions. Wonders if he's petting the cat.

Wonders if he's thinking about Tony.

His phone buzzes, and he nearly drops it in his haste to check it.

It's from his mom.

Sorry, got a new phone, didn't see this till just now- what a cutie! Is he yours? (I don't mean the cat), you look so happy, sweetheart. Also, are you eating enough? Your dad says hi!

Tony clicks on it. Sees the photo he sent her. Captured mid-laughter, Tony is beaming, face turned to Peter, who's gorgeous, beaming, lovely-

Tony looks at his own expression. Has he ever looked at someone like that before? The way he's looking at Peter in this photo?

He does look happy. He looks...home.

"-ey Tony. Is this recording? Hey Tony, it's Steve! I just wanted to let you know I ran into Peter- your Peter- at the flower garden in Harlem today. How crazy is that? Must be fate. He's amazing, you're a matchmaker. We've got a date tonight- I'll let you know how it goes!"

Tony listens to the message three times. A voice mail, of course, because Steve might as well be from the 1940s.

There's a horrible feeling in the pit of his stomach. What does that mean? That the very person Tony thought Peter would get on with is the one he bumped into in Harlem? In a flower garden. Peter was probably surrounded by foxgloves, ridiculously beautiful in his dandelion cardigan, streaks of suncream still on his face.

Maybe Steve had come up to him, said that Peter was a more beautiful view than the flowers. Steve is gross like that.

And Peter probably- probably liked it. Thought Steve was handsome, because Steve is. Probably blushed the way he blushes whenever someone compliments him, like he never received enough. The amount he deserved. Probably said something lame like "you're not so bad yourself."

He wonders how Peter reacted when Steve brought Tony up, brought up their link. Their almost.

Did he ask about Tony? Steve's message hadn't said anything- so Peter obviously hadn't said anything bad. That must mean something.

Going out tonight. Peter's going out tonight.

Tony doesn't want Peter to go out tonight. He wants to lie in Peter with bed, with that fat cat, and watch TV and talk and order Chinese. Wants to kiss Peter- wants to-

"Oh," he whispers, fingers shaking, he presses his hands together. This is love. He's in love. With Peter. He's been in love with Peter since-

He remembers the sight of him at the bar. Beautiful. Sweet. Idealistic like Tony couldn't believe and-

Goddamn it. Tony's loved him the moment he first laid eyes on him.

And he's fucked it all up.

***

He sees Steve on the way up. He hides behind a plant, peeks out behind leaves. Steve is whistling, smiling, pleased. Okay, well, so, they had a good date- but Peter didn't let him in for a nightcap. That must mean something.

Tony hurries upstairs, heart pounding. He knocks on the door of Peter's apartment, tries to control his hair and-

"Oh good, you forgot your coat!" Comes Peter's voice, pleased, and the door opens and-

It's Peter.

He's in Steve's coat. It's draped over his shoulders. There's stardust in his eyes, he's wearing chinos and a hideous flannel shirt and-

"Peter." Tony breathes, wants to kiss him. Wants to pull that coat off him and burn it.

Peter stands firm in the door. Doesn't move to let him in. His face closes off. "What are you doing here, Tony?"

"I can't sleep," he blurts, aware of the wreck he must look. "Can't eat. Can't think straight. I keep- driving past this place, wondering if you're up, what you're doing, if you're thinking about me. I keep- wanting to call. To find any excuse to- I keep replaying all our- moments, I'm- I'm becoming-"

"Me." Peter finishes, he looks up at Tony with his huge eyes.

"Bambi," Tony whispers, and Peter flinches away, shaking his head.

"Tony, I just...I just went on a date with Steve-"

"I know." He whispers. Hating himself already. He's left it too late. Should've come sooner, should've realised earlier.

"And I think he- he actually likes me, Tony. He doesn't see love like it's a game, he calls when he says he'll call and he's not scared of relationships-"

"I'm not scared anymore." Tony whispers, taking another step forward, "I can be yours-"

"But you didn't want to be!" Peter cries, shaking his head. Pain etched across his face, and Tony remembers his words. How cruel, how wrong he was. "I threw myself at you, and you didn't want me-"

"I was wrong. I was wrong, Pete, and you were right. About everything. I didn't- I'm so used to doing the same thing, of keeping people at arms length, that when I actually fell-" the words choke in his throat, "-in love- I didn't- I didn't know. I didn't realise."

Peter stares at him, closes his eyes. There's a long beat of silence. "Tony," he whispers, composing himself, "a wise Yoda once told me that if someone wants to date you, they'll make it happen. That I'm the rule, not the-"

He can't take it. Not another moment. Not another unbearable second of Peter thinking that Tony doesn't want him-

So, he kisses him.

It's awkward, and desperate, and then- gentle. He cradles Peter's face in his hands, kisses him long, and slow and endless. Tries to pour all the love, and the hope and the fire he's been carrying for Peter since the moment he saw him.

When they pull apart, Tony doesn't step back. Stays close. Hopeful. Pleading.

Peter's eyes flutter open, like a prince in a fairytale, like the leading star in a romance. "I'm the exception," he whispers, hands on Tony's chest.

Tony's heart thunders with truth. "You are my exception." He breathes, pulling Peter and his gorgeous smile in for another kiss. His hands push Steve's coat from off his shoulders, he steps on it for good measure, and he swallows Peter's laughter, nearly trips over DJ Ravioli, and kicks the door shut behind them.

They spend the next day in bed, watching tv, and they order Chinese food.

Peter checks his work emails, and Tony reaches over and kisses him like he can't help it. Peter laughs, kissing back for a moment, before pulling away. "Am I that irresistible?" He teases.

Tony looks up at him from his side of the bed, eyes earnest. "Yes." He says solemnly. "You are."

"Does that mean I get the last spring roll?"

Tony winces. "I already gave it to the cat."

"Oh well," Peter sighs, collapsing into Tony's arms, tossing the phone away. "You'll just have to make it up to me somehow."

Tony starts to pepper him with kisses. Hands slip under Peter's shirt. "I can do that. I can do that every day for the rest of our lives."

Peter hums, vibrating with glee, "and is this the first day of Happily Ever After?"

"Baby," Tony grins, brushing the cat hair from Peter's forehead, and kissing him again, and again, "I think it just might be."

#starker #peter x tony #young tony #romcom au #angst with a happy ending #mutual pining #he's just not that into you au #precious peter parker #tony stark has a heart

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adorehs · 4 years ago

Text

changing your tune

Hi I just wanted to mention that a lot of this might be inaccurate. This is based off of my time in my city's youth orchestra so while I’m sure some things transfer, but not everything. Kinda bad at the end per usual <3

Summary: Classical Musician!Y/N has created a simple life for herself consisting of herself, her music, and the boy she loves. Friends to lovers. (15.6k words)

Warnings: mostly fluff, slight angst, mentions of smut, minor character death.

“I just think I need to have a fuller tone to really get the dark undertone of the music. Like, it’s so clearly meant to be this dark, horrible travesty but if I can’t get the tone right then it’s just this light and airy travesty. But I can’t bend the note just right, my air is, like, gone,” you vent out.

Harry watches you intently from where he sat in your study with a hand holding his chin up and an elbow on his knee, “I think it sounds great.”

You look at him unimpressed, “It’s all chalumeau. Of course it sounds good, it just doesn't sound right.”

“Right, so it’s in the lower register,” he mentally reminds himself, “What’s it supposed to sound like?”

You let out a sigh and pick up your clarinet from the stand it rested on, “It sounds kind of different without my custom, but the r13 will work for now,” you mumble, adjusting the reed and ligature on your mouthpiece, a nervous tick you picked up in school.

Your eyes flicker up to Harry, waiting for his glance of approval before you start. Your cheeks expertly swell and decompress in size as you circular breathe through the measures, your mind concentrated on the smooth transitions between rhythms and the registers, cutting the triplets short as you’ve written them.

The soothing noise of your clarinet fills the large room immediately, your forte becoming all too loud to process any thoughts. The victorian-styled room had low hanging lights that streamed a warm orange tone over the patterned chairs and built-in bookcase that held hundreds of music books with etudes you’ve mastered since your youth.

Though the warm tones made the room feel homely, the curtains were drawn back and the windows were opened ajar allowing a short breeze to flow in every two minutes. You knew better then to turn on a fan around your hand-crafted instrument. You understood the fluctuation it would cause if the temperature changed drastically day by day. This is why you were careful to turn the air conditioning off before you opened the window, keeping the temperature relatively steady through the day.

Harry watched you in pure concentration- he was truly enamoured by the way you lost yourself in music. He wanted to understand what you were saying but it was hard- he enjoyed music but was completely deaf when it came to describing the mood of a piece.

He worked with numbers, and loved it. A born accountant in your presence, watching you play your clarinet with what seems to be ease. But you seemed so distant from him. A whole world away. And how was he going to sweep you off your feet when he can hardly understand your career?

Your eyebrows furrowed slightly as the technique became more difficult, effectively making you let off your clarinet and huff a breath of disapproval. Your heart was clearly pounding after the page you played at full tempo for effect, but you tried not to show the effect the music had on your body.

You reached for your pencil before erasing a note you had written and writing another one in, a higher register G#. The graphite smeared on the yellow-tinted manuscript book that sat on the music stand before you, everything shaking lightly as vigorously colored in the line and drew in a staccato articulation above the sixteenth note.

Forgetting Harry’s presence, you picked up your clarinet once again and played the same measure in sets of five, increasing the tempo by four beats each time, before deciding it is satisfactory for now.

Your face only showed a slight upturn, as you wrote in a new measure, testing how the chord would resolve with some soft air and incomplete vibrations through the wooden block. Minor chord or major? you asked yourself.

Harry’s eyes watched yours as they darted across the room from your clarinet, to your manuscript, to your metronome, which was silently flashing a red light at a tempo of 180 and a subdivision of eighth notes.

He wondered who taught you so harshly- he’d never seen someone so critical of their own work. You liked to make everything very perfect in a meticulous way- you knew just when to linger on the seventh of a chord to leave an uneasy feeling in the pit of one;s stomach and you were stellar when it came to expressing a story and emotion through your music. At least that’s what Harry thought.

“So where does your tone need to get fuller?” he asks again.

You looked up at him, slightly shocked. You had forgotten he was there, “When I get higher, like, near the F#. It has no depth to the note and it sounds like a playground piece,” you explain softly, watching as his eyes furrowed in confusion.

“So you want it to sound darker when the octave goes up?” he confirms one more time.

You nod, “Yeah. Want it to sound more emotional and thoughtful. It also makes me sound like a stylistically competent player,” your eyes flicker back to the page in an instant.

“I think your style is good. You have a good variety in the symphony, too. They’ll like this one. Get the solo down and then ask some people to come and play with you,” Harry comments, rubbing his hands on his corduroy pants as he sits back further in the chair. The heavy fabric makes a dissatisfying pulling noise as Harry moves around in the chair, resting his hands on the dark wooden arms with ornate carvings on the ends.

“I don’t know,” you sighed, “They haven’t taken my last three. If I can just make one good one, I can take some more risks and possibly compose a whole symphony,” you pause, making eye contact with Harry again, “But that’ll take years. Probably only when I retire from the orchestra.”

“They are good,” Harry argues weakly. He doesn’t know how to convince you because all he knows is that he likes it.

“Well clearly they’re not as good as you and I think,” you counter with a huff, picking up your clarinet once more before playing the same piece from the beginning.

After an overextended work week, Harry was excited to go out and have some fun with his friends. He was still a ripe twenty-six year old, working long and hard hours as a starting budget analyst, hoping to be promoted higher within the job and lighten his workload- at least that's what everyone promised will happen. Nevertheless, he still enjoyed the simple pleasures of going out and celebrating his friends.

It was an all too familiar setting- a sticky, trashed bar with little to no care given to the seats that were falling apart at the seams. He found himself thinking of the frat parties you had described to him when he asked what Greek Life was.

But, he was there to celebrate one of his colleagues' birthdays. It was her twenty-fifth, so he found himself understanding the want for a big party. The bar might have been trashed but it was large and suitable for the hundreds of people she seemed to invite.

And among the hundreds, he only viewed one. You.

You wore a dress that you pulled from the back of your closet and hadn’t seen the light of day since you were in college. You wore it to special events and networking parties, but you found it all too nice to wear to most other situations you found yourself in.

Harry had definitely forgotten your connection to his colleague, or better known as your sister. He watched as you greeted her with a wide smile and a kiss on the cheek, an awkward side hug was exchanged as everyone around you both cheered in excitement. You were pretty loved.

“Happy birthday Mon,” you repeat for the second time that day, “Hope the year treats you well.”

Your sister smiled in response, “Off to a great start,” she eyes the party reviving behind you, “I’m glad you could make it. Thought you’d have a performance tonight.”

You shook your head, “Nope. Requested this day off a year ago. Couldn’t miss my favorite day of the year!”

Your sister glances at you with a look of amusement, “Happy Monica day is your favorite of the year?”

“Yup, love happy Monica day,” you reiterate.

Monica opened her mouth to reply but was swiftly cut off by a deep British accent, “Happy birthday Mon!” you hear from behind you.

You turn around quickly, side stepping to allow Harry into your conversation. He leans into your sister before granting her a quick hug and kiss on the cheek, “How are you?” he asks, replacing your spot in front of her.

You smile at Monica and halfheartedly wave a goodbye as you slowly make your way over to the bar to order some food. You decided a year ago that you were going to stop drinking. At first, it was a hard choice to make. You were used to having a drink in most social situations, especially being a young adult working with people of all ages. It was a common scene to find you in- an after party with hundreds of musicians having a glass of champagne or white wine in celebration.

You sat yourself on a deep crimson stool, swirling slightly as you waited for your sliders to be given to you. Watching as people met and reconnected was isolating for you. You knew very few people Monica worked with and found yourself just shy of saying hi to someone who looked friendly every time you were at a gathering such as this one.

Nodding a silent thank you as your sliders were placed in front of you, your attention shifts. It was the loud talking and blaring music that made your brain want to go into overdrive, never quite getting used to noises you couldn’t control.

“Hi, Y/N,” you feel a body slide into the seat beside you. You couldn’t exactly pin whose voice it was at first listen so you shift your body towards them and slide the plate between you two as a peace offering.

“Hey,” you reply, making eye contact with one of Monica’s friends you met when she first started working at the firm.

“How’ve you been? Haven’t seen you in ages.”

“I’m alright, Louis. And yourself?”

“I’m quite alright. Been working a lot. Itching to get promoted,” he lets out a small laugh, “But who isn’t.”

You shoot him a grin, “Not sure, I love my job.”

“When’re you playing next? Love to come see you play. Haven't been to the new show yet,” he leans in towards you and takes a slider before leaning back again.

“Play Thursday to Sunday every week until November. Then we switch to Christmas ballets,” you tell him with a grin, “I recommend Thursday or Sunday, though. Best prices and best crowd.”

He nods in confirmation, “I’ll have to take Harry with me, know he’s been bugging me to go with him for a while.”

“Yeah, bring him! It’ll be fun, we can all go out after too!” you counter, dismissing Louis' comment about Harry’s insistent nature. That was just him, you thought.

“Definitely,” he agrees, “Plus it’s a nice way to unwind. I’ll definitely see if I can come soon.”

“Oh, please! I love seeing a familiar face. Feel like I play better,” you laugh, “Still get nervous, but Harry always tells me I’ll do amazing.”

“Harry’s good at that,” Louis agrees, “Always makes sure you don’t undersell yourself. And he’s right! You’re amazing.”

You feel your cheeks heat up at the compliment, “Thank you! He’s definitely everyone's biggest cheerleader,” you joke. Turning around entirely in your stool, your eyes sift quickly through the crowd in search of Harry. “See, there he is,” you chortle, “Hyping up Niall as he chugs a,” you squint.

“A beer, probably,” Louis completes for you.

You both laugh and watch as Niall shoots up from his spot on the ground in victory before immediately falling back onto the ground with great dramatics. The room roars as Harry helps his friend stand back up and walks him over to the bathroom before swinging the door back open, “Ladies and gentlemen,” he pauses for effect, “The boy lives!”

The room once again falls into a unison form of laughter as Niall appears behind Harry moments later, “Where’s the beer?” he shouts over the laughs, which quickly turn into cheers at his sportsmanship.

While Louis lets out a loud laugh at his friend's antics and moves towards the crowd to see more clearly, you looked up towards Harry. He dressed himself impressively well considering his lack of knowledge in the arts. Though he wore a simple outfit consisting of a red button up and black jeans, his confidence soared higher than anyone else’s you’d seen in a while.

His smile was infectious and seemed to fill his whole face and as his eyes raised to meet yours it grew to a tenfold. Speaking with his body language, you somehow sensed that he wanted you to get up and join him.

You shook your head with a smile and mouthed ‘I’m fine here!’ only to receive a ‘What!?’ in response. You shook your head in defeat and stood up, mouthing the same phrase only slower.

Harry replied with a look of realization and instantaneously, a pout replaced his smile. You frowned at your effect on him, not wanting him to feel upset because of you of all people.

You stood up and slowly started making your way over to him, allowing the smile to rediscover its place on his lips. He was watching you near him, when his head suddenly snapped towards a high pitched scream coming from your sister, “It’s midnight!” she shouts.

Harry chuckles at her dramatics and smiles when he feels your body press up against his side. He didn’t have to look to know it was you, he could smell your distinct perfume as you neared him and he was happy knowing you found comfort around him- though that should’ve been clear from the nights upon nights you spend together, him listening to your music and you listening to his rants.

Monica was handed a bottle of champagne and she stepped into the middle of the corner you all occupied, people filing in suit around her and forming a circular crowd.

“Hey everyone! Uh- thank you so much for coming- I mean it. It means a lot to me to be surrounded by a bunch of people I love on my favorite day of the year!” She jokes, earning some light laughs and a few words of endearment thrown back at her. “No, seriously, thanks a lot, and,” she trails off, her thoughts too blurry for her planned speech, “Here’s to twenty five!” she cheers, shaking the champagne bottle, allowing it to pop and spray all over. She quickly spins in an attempt to spray everyone, but the champagne bubbles over and only gets half the group.

You and Harry both laugh, shaking your hands to get the sticky substance off your bodies. “She tries every year and never succeeds,” you tell him.

He chuckles in response, “She gets too drunk to remember.”

“Or she just thinks that she’s sober enough to get it this year,” you laugh back.

Harry laughs and nods, “Definitely. She thinks she’s perfectly fine,” he points at Monica who is going around the circle and hugging everyone in thanks. “To be fair she looks okay,” he adds.

“She always does,” you agree with Harry.

The two of you fall silent and you stand back watching your sister make rounds. Harry’s hand creeps onto your back as he steps closer to you, bringing you in front of him. He hums along to the song you couldn’t remember the name of that was blaring on the speakers and he basks in the glory of being in your presence.

Soon enough, your sister had made her way over to the two of you, hugging you both and exchanging her thanks for coming and just as quick as she came, she left you two alone.

“So, uh,” Harry starts.

“Hey, um, I’m gonna leave. Got an early start tomorrow,” you tell Harry, pointing at the door.

“Oh, yeah, definitely. Yeah, you should go,” he stammers.

You smile at him, “Okay, cool. I’ll see you later?” you asked, stepping towards Monica to say a final happy birthday and goodnight.

“Yeah, definitely,” he nods in confirmation.

You wave before finding your sister and saying goodnight, then driving yourself back home.

Harry was sitting in bed with his laptop on his lap and a blanket covering his legs. He was doing some research in an attempt to find books that could teach him about music theory.

He told himself he wanted to be more involved in his friends' lives and further his education in one of his weakest subjects- music. But in reality, it was clear to those around him that he wanted to impress you and be more involved in your life and yours only. They had never seen him pick up a book on physical therapy or take a quick online course on python- he was doing it all purely for you.

He was contemplating if he should invest in a book or just take a free online course, both seemed like viable options but he wanted to optimize his time. He wanted to make it click faster.

He decided he’d try the online course and take his chances and if he still didn’t understand he would invest in a book.

So there he was on a Tuesday evening sitting in bed with his headphones in learning how basic chords were made. He wrote notes as if he was still in school and studied them after each lesson. He wasn’t fully immersed in the world like you were, but he felt as though he could carry a bit more of a conversation with you about music, especially when compared to before.

Harry was learning slowly but surely and in about a week he could, in theory, explain how to develop a minor chord from it’s major among various other basics (that you would probably think were common knowledge) but he had no recollection of learning.

As per usual, he spent every Monday and Wednesday evening with you. On Mondays, you would have movie night and on Wednesdays, he would get some work done in your office while you played. It never truly distracted him, either. Honestly, it made him feel very peaceful and he found that the routine was more about being in the presence of each other rather than making memories.

One Wednesday, he had completed his work early and as usual, he would sit and see what you had composed to help give his limited input on your compositions.

Typically, he would sit and listen silently with a slight tilt to his head while he thought up a thoughtful comment about your playing. You would always sit there anxiously, with your posture beginning to slouch since you were not playing anymore, waiting for a comment that you both knew would be neither helpful or negative.

Harry was good at that. He was good at making you feel like you were doing good with absolute sincerity and not a single waiver of his voice. His face would stay straight and he would find the good in it all. It was probably your favorite part of the man who sat with you on the particular day.

This time, unlike the last, your window was shut tight and you were trying your hardest to keep your hands steady. You couldn’t make the piece sound right. It sounded okay but that would not get you signed. It needed to be calculated and perfect in a theoretical standpoint. It also needed to be simple enough to split into parts for larger groups but difficult enough to have solo excerpts from each instrument- in case a full orchestra didn’t work.

And that was difficult to accomplish.

Harry knew that and he agreed- how could one person who hadn’t ever been signed make such an elaborate piece? He thought it was absolutely absurd that to maximize your chances you had to make the piece a combination of just about everything.

You sat with the same face as you usually did, one pleading for some sort of advice or criticism. What you weren’t expecting was for Harry to deliver.

“Think if you made it a minor chord instead of a major and ended on the seventh it could bring some edge,” Harry eventually says.

Your eyes widen slightly in confusion, “Yeah, uh, let me try that,” you stammered.

You covered what you had written with a sticky note, drawing on the new scale. You showed Harry the note and asked him if that was what he was thinking, to which he replied yes. You nod lightly and play the piece once again from the beginning, swaying slightly as you approached lyrical bits and narrowed your air stream to control your volume.

Harry nods along with your playing, pausing slightly in places he could tell you didn’t like much. Eventually, he watches as you play what he had suggested, anxiety rising up his throat in fear of not being accepted.

“Think I like it. But I need to fix some of the other stuff too,” you told him once you finished. “It would definitely feel right that way.”

Harry nodded and stood up. He rounded the long desk and joined you where you sat by the window in an uncomfortable chair made to help keep your posture near perfect. He crouched down so he could be eye level with your music and furrowed his brows.

You watched as he read the notes carefully, taking his time as he took in each technically challenging measure and the lyrically soft measures in contrast. You grew anxious for his approval so you busied yourself by taking the sticky note off of the manuscript and erasing and redrawing the notes for the new scale Harry advised you to add.

You took your time, slowly coloring each eighth note, the graphite crumbling down the page, leaving a light smear as you wiped it away with the side of your hand.

Harry looked up at you, “I think you should change this,” he points, “Make it flat and get rid of this note entirely,” he spoke slowly. You watch as his finger indicates each note and you nod along softly.

“Okay, I’ll try,” you agree.

He nods in response and rests his hand on your thigh, you hardly notice the action that felt natural in the moment.

You temporarily wrote in each suggestion and played the piece again from the beginning, a process the two of you were becoming increasingly annoyed with. As you approached the measure he had pointed out, your mind wondered: how did he know all this and why didn’t he mention any of it before?

Your air slowed down as your mind wandered and your fingers followed closely after, a ritardando, Harry noted. He hadn’t mentioned tempo but he found that bringing the piece down to cut time brought a new feeling that he couldn’t put his finger on.

Abruptly, you stopped, and Harry knew you didn’t realize. You both sat in silence for a moment before Harry stood up and moved back over to where he was sitting previously. He cleared his throat, “I’m gonna head out. Good luck Y/N,” he rushed out.

You shook your head in disbelief. You truly didn’t understand what just happened. But, you shook it off and tried again, keeping the ritardando.

Harry on the other hand, was in a state of panic. He had realized what he had done and he thought she did too, resulting in her abrupt stopping point.

Harry had begun to understand that he was in love with you. And he didn’t know until just then. But he had done everything just for you.

The following Sunday Harry finally managed to drag Louis out of his city apartment and downtown to the Meyerson Symphony Center where you were to perform Mendelssohn’s Midsummer Night’s Dream.

Neither Harry or Louis have seen you perform this particular show so they were late to learn that you had auditioned for and successfully got the clarinet solo in a particular piece from the Symphony named Scherzo.

You had explained to Harry your appeal to this particular symphony- you found it to be unique of all the others that accompanied Shakespeare's work. Instead of relaying a difficult emotion or putting a satirical spin on a human issue like his other works did, you found Midsummer to be a pure romp into romance and the abnormalities of love.

And though you hadn’t been in love for a while, you found yourself feeling the emotion wholly through both the piece and music in it of itself.

Harry had read midsummer before- in fact he had seen it live with his mum and sister when he was younger, but he never understood the effect the music had on the play. He never looked into the contextualization of the play, let alone the deeper aspirations of it.

He understood music theory but he still had trouble analyzing music itself. He couldn’t pinpoint moods by just listening- he needed to see it written out which he believed hindered his ability to enjoy music to its fullest extent.

Needless to say, Harry entered the theater with Louis with a thought of determination. All he wanted was to find a way to understand the music and appreciate it as you did. They were both clad in matching suits, a simple black and white for the symphony, and made their way to the middle where their tickets directed them. Harry sat in the aisle and Louis sat right next to him, whispering in excitement of the show.

“I fucking love this story,” Louis says.

Harry lets out a quiet laugh, “I hardly remember it.”

Louis joins Harry in laughter and shrugs, “Oh well, it’ll still be good.”

Harry nods in agreement and turns away from Louis as the curtains open and the lights dim.

It wasn’t the first time he had seen you on this stage, but he found himself mesmerized as he found you with his eyes. He watched as you scanned the crowd quickly, your eyes jumping past him and Louis a few times before you recognized your friends. You shot them each a relieved smile and sat up straighter in your chair.

The conductor cast a smile at everyone before beginning the first piece, the Overture making its debut in the room. Just as Harry was used to, the melodic sounds filled the room to the brim, every last corner feeling the pure emotion that was put into the piece.

Harry couldn’t describe the feeling but he knew he was proud. He understood that watching you in your element is probably the worst thing he could do for himself, but he had to. It was pure torture to watch you fall in love with something that wasn’t him, but he loved the way it happened.

You lost yourself so easily and he felt as though you were the loudest in the room. He could hear your sound over everyone else's, your instrument being isolated from all the others in his mind. Harry could swear he had never been so proud in his life to see someone do what they love.

As the overture came to a close, his hands met in applause and he felt the need to stand up just so you would know how much he loved it. But as quickly as he started, he stopped his applause and the next piece was beginning.

No. 1 Scherzo. It was the second piece on the track and your personal favorite for reasons you would not disclose to Harry. He had heard you practice it a few times before, nodding along as he recognized fragments of the piece.

It was around three minutes into the piece when Harry learned why it was your favorite. Because it was just you. You were the only one playing- your solo bringing tears to his eyes. It was just that moment when you looked up and made eye contact with Harry, him nodding with a large grin on his face with reassurance, you’re doing amazing, it read.

When you looked back up at your music, your eyes narrowing in concentration, you failed to notice the look on Harry’s face. His phone had buzzed and he found himself confused- he was sure he put it on silent. The feeling that was elicited was nothing but good, so he decided to go check just for some peace of mind.

He stood up, pointing at his phone when Louis questioned him silently, gaining a nod of approval as Harry exited the theater in a rush.

The second he exited the room that was beginning to become overly stuffy and constricting, he took a deep breath and told himself you’re probably just overreacting.

Harry was anywhere from overreacting. It was that exact moment that he had received a text that was pushed through do not disturb. The text was from his mum and read nothing but horrible news. The five words that found themselves on his screen that illuminated his face as he stood right next to the door called him a coward. They read: This contact has dialed 999.

Harry understood the severity of the situation but he didn’t know what to do. All he knew is that she called- he didn’t know why or where she was. He didn’t know if he had to book a flight back home or not.

Just as Harry was getting up and leaving for his own agenda, you had finished your solo. You looked up once again, hearing the applause and searching for Harry once more. But this time, you found Louis sat alone with a large grin creeping across his face and his applause filling the space next to him.

You had never felt as hurt as you did in that moment. He had left you. Harry, the man you now realized you love, found something more important than you and your aspirations, and there was no physical way that it wouldn’t sting. What you didn’t know was that as your heart was breaking, Harry’s mum’s was.

It had taken two hours for someone to answer the phone. Two hours for Harry to spend most of his savings on a red eye to the London airport. Ten hours for him to touch down in London. Three to make his way to the hospital next to his childhood home.

He was distraught to say the least.

He had left without mention of what was happening, his phone exploding with texts from Louis and Monica making sure he was okay, but not a word from you. He felt betrayed, but he understood. You had things going on too and he wasn’t the center of your universe.

The hospital looked sterile, not a single thing out of place. The walls were coated in a pristine white color that nearly blinded Harry’s bloodshot eyes, and he spent a few minutes catching his breath before he asked where his dad was.

He walked sluggishly onto the elevator, the weight of reality crushing him as he waited for what seemed like ages but really was hardly forty seconds for the elevator to jolt to a stop. When it stepped off, he saw what he imagined to be organized chaos.

People were walking quickly up and down the lengths of the corridor and he found himself passing by far too many crying people to think anything good could ever happen in a hospital- not revival nor birth.

He walked the length of the corridor in silence, taking in his surroundings. He was in shock- he could hardly even process that he was in England, let alone why he was there. It was only when he stopped shortly at the sight of his mum and sister sleeping, their heads resting on each other's, that he realized the severity of what was happening.

And so, with a deep breath, he sat down on the floor before them, resting his back lightly against the leg chairs and he rested his forehead on his knees. It didn’t seem like his life that he was living- he felt like this was all a vivid dream, but it wasn’t. It was less than twenty four hours ago that he was with Louis watching your performance and now he sat with his family outside of his father's hospital room praying he would be okay.

Harry was one of hopeful thinking and that was made apparent when a doctor exited his father's room with a stack of papers.

Harry was the first to stand, followed by his mother and sister, who were unsure of when he had arrived. He shook hands with the doctor, who he learned was named doctor Wilson. He was clad in the same scrubs as every other doctor but Harry found his to be a special type of unattractive- or maybe that was his subconscious distracting himself from the situation at hand.

Doctor Wilson cleared his throat as Anne made her way next to Harry, Gemma shielding herself from the news from behind him, “So,” he cleared his throat “Mr. Styles came in about a year ago to have his lungs screened, as you may know, and he was diagnosed with small cell lung cancer,” he nodded.

“Well, Mr. Styles seems to have,” he left a pregnant pause in his sentence, “He seems to have the cancer cells spreading rapidly. We would like to put him on a self contained respirator and monitor him closely to give you some more accurate information about his cancer and give you some answers within a few hours,” he says slowly.

Harry shook his head in disbelief- his father had never mentioned cancer let alone a screening.

“Thank you doctor,” he heard Anne speak from behind him. He sent a last glance at the broken family and moved back into the room.

It was the first you had heard from him in about half a week. He had called you on Wednesday after not answering your messages asking if he will make his way over on Monday for your movie night.

“Hi,” you answer softly.

“Hey- uh,” you heard some shuffling, “Hey.”

Your eyes furrowed in confusion, “Are you coming over?”

There was a long pause on Harry’s end and you just about opened your mouth to confirm that he could hear you when he replied, “No,” he said shortly. “I- uh- I’m at home.”

“Do you want me to come over?” you asked in confusion.

“No, like, I’m in the UK,” he quickly corrected you.

Your mouth opened and closed a few times, leaving a pregnant pause on your end, “Oh,” you replied.

“Yeah, I-” you could hear a few other voices in the background and you imagined they were his mum and sister, “My dad- he’s not doing so good. He has stage four lung cancer.”

“Oh,” you let out again. “I- uh- sorry, I really just don’t know what to say right now.”

Harry let out a breathy chuckle, which you could tell had bitter undertones, “That’s alright… don’t exactly know what to say myself.”

“I- uh- I’m really sorry,” you tell him sincerely, “God I feel like such an ass,” you expressed.

Harry’s eyes furrowed in confusion and he looked up at his mum to ensure she wasn’t listening, “No need, I promise it’s fine you don’t have to say anything.”

“I just- I was so mad at you for leaving and not saying anything and ignoring me. Thought I did something wrong or you were mad at me,” you explain. “Didn’t know what was going on and I was scared that I lost you.”

“Couldn’t lose me if you tried,” Harry laughed softly, you joining his laughter momentarily.

“Are you still mad I didn’t tell you I was going?” Harry asked after a long moment of silence.

“No- not at all. Was mainly just worried,” you reassure him, “I totally understand,” but you didn’t. How could he not tell you? Did he not think you deserved to know why he left when you were playing for him?

“I’m really sorry. Kinda just fell off the face of the Earth for a few days. Was anticipating the news and trying to stay strong for my mum and Gemma,” he explains.

Before you could reply, Harry starts again, “Hey, uh, we’re going back to the hospital so I’ll talk to you later, alright?” he says quickly before hanging up and leaving you alone in your study, clarinet in front of you.

You truly didn’t know how to cope with what just happened- it felt like heartbreak on two spectrums- family and lover. But he was neither, which hurt even more.

You picked up the piece of handcrafted wood that sat in front of you and tried your hardest to pour your heartbreak into the piece- adding pain, edge, and suffering to the nearly- done piece in an attempt to exert your feelings into something productive.

It worked like a charm, which was something you felt bad mentioning. You found yourself falling in love with the piece, fractures of your heart making up every line and the composition falling right into place as your muse fell right apart across the world.

It was the next morning when you received the message from Harry: He’s gone. In his sleep. I’ll be home in a week. Gotta sort some things out. -H

Harry arrived home that following Tuesday and he was exhausted but grateful to be back to his tiny townhouse in the middle of a city with his friends surrounding him.

He felt as though coping wasn’t an option anymore- he had taken up a whole week for that and in this moment in time he felt as though he had already done enough coping.

There was a memorial service the weekend after his father died and to say Harry’s family were crushed would be an understatement.

Anne, Gemma, and Harry each had prepared a speech for the service and none of them felt as though they could do the senior Styles any justice. He was a good man and they couldn’t even begin to explain that to everyone there. Nobody could understand the pain in the same way as they did, so they did their best to remember him in the best light.

Harry was mainly happy for one thing- the following day was Wednesday. He had taken off the rest of the week so he could recover from any jet lag and start the new week back with a fresh start, so he knew that tomorrow would be a great day to catch up. With work and with you.

He hadn’t seen a single person since he was back but upholding the tradition was important to him. He favored you over most all his friends anyway, so when he parked his old car in the driveway of the large house you inherited from your grandparents, he was excited.

He knocked twice and rang your doorbell once,queuing you to open the door in shock less than a minute after. “What are you doing here?” you ask confused, pulling Harry into a long hug. You had missed him on his ten days of abstinence from you.

“Got back yesterday, can’t skip out on tradition,” he shoots you a smile, letting go of your warm embrace. You took a moment to look at him before deciding he wanted a distraction from everything going on in his life.

You open the door further, beckoning him to come in, “Well come on, I need your opinion on my piece,” you gesture towards your office dramatically.

Harry chuckles and bows in thanks, “After you,” he says with a posh accent.

You both laugh, heading inside to where your things were set up and ready to go. He sat down in the same chair as he always does and you round the desk to sit where your clarinet was standing and your manuscript laid.

“Okay, so I added, kind of a lot, while you were gone,” you warm him.

He nodded and gestured for you to play, “Well go on then. Show me what you added,” he crossed his legs and leaned back in his chair.

You glanced at Harry and your music a few times each in an attempt to correlate the two in your mind- this was your Harry and he would never hurt you. You began to play the piece that you had become sickly familiar with but Harry found himself utterly perplexed at the sound of a new beginning. You had nearly changed the entire beginning and Harry loved it.

He found it to be oddly comforting to listen to you for what felt like the first time ever but in reality it was just another sense of stability in the world you two had created- the world that was exclusively Harry and Y/N.

The moment you reached the end, a bit he had helped you with, you found yourself stumbling over your composition, making Harry's brow furrow together. You were a perfectionist when it came to music- you loved the control that came with being able to play flawlessly and change how it all came together and he found it odd that you of all people were messing up something you had written in for weeks.

“Sorry,” you let out a huff, running a hand through your hair, “I’m really stressed and it’s really making this all worse.”

Harry nodded in understanding, “You should take a break,” he tells you with full seriousness.

You look at him with a blank face for a moment before bursting out into laughter, “You can’t be serious.”

Harry looked at you confused, “I’m serious.”

“Harry this is my job. This is equivalent to me getting a promotion. I can’t stop!” you explain harshly.

Harry nodded, “I understand. Just-” he paused, “Just come with me, okay?”

“No, Harry, I can't, I have to do this,” you stood your ground.

“Y/N,” he spoke firmly, “If you hate this and want to kick me out for a week and let you compose on your own after this, you can. Just come.”

You let out a sigh and deliberated your options, “Fine. But there is a high chance you’re not showing up at my door for a week,” you point an accusatory finger at Harry.

He raises his hands in defense, “Okay, noted. Let’s go slowpoke,” he teased.

You flashed him your middle finger and a toothy grin before packing up your clarinet and setting it on your desk. You follow Harry out to his car and get in the passenger seat as he starts the car and makes his way out of your neighborhood.

“Can I ask where we are going?”

“Patience is a virtue,” Harry replied, making you roll your eyes dramatically.

“You’re so annoying,” you reply.

“You love me,” he states smugly, making your eyes grow the size of saucers.

“Not right now I don’t” you tease once you recover from your previous state of shock.

Harry shakes his head and says, “Home Depot. That’s all you’re getting out of me.”

You wondered why he could be taking you to Home Depot of all places- not getting food or going shopping to find another piece of clothing you don’t need.

Harry parked easily before exiting the car, you follow after him in a haste. You have to job to catch up with Harry who seems to be walking a mile a minute to get into the building, “What the fuck are we doing here?” you ask again.

“We,” Harry says, pointing at the two of you, “Are going to paint that white wall in your office,” he says with a smile.

Your face mirrors his, a grin of your own making its way across your face. You had mentioned to Harry months ago that you were itching to paint the room but you never made the time for yourself to do that.

This time, it was you who took the lead, teasing Harry for taking too long to make his way into the store. You find your way to the back of the store where you see a few employees mixing paint for customers and you find your way to the pantone swatches, Harry immediately picking up a brown one, “I think it’ll match the wood, no?”

You laugh and shake your head, “No I want it to be your hair color.”

Harry’s mouth opens in realization before grabbing another strip. He squints, reading the name aloud, “Werge,” he says confused.

You fall into a fit of laughter before moving down the wall to look at the blues, the color you were actually hoping to get.

With Harry��s unwillingness to be serious and your contagious laughs, it took you forty five minutes to find the color you had seen online a few months ago and had screenshotted on your phone.

You make your way over to an employee and ask for a gallon of the deep navy color, paying and making your way back into Harry’s car within a few minutes.

Your knee was bouncing in anticipation on your way home and you didn’t realize until Harry rested his palm on it, asking you, “What’s got you so nervous?” to which you reply:

“Not nervous, just excited.”

Harry chuckled and kept his hand there for the rest of the ride to your house, which you found to be far too close then you wanted it to be.

You both found yourselves in your garage loading your arms with painters tape and tarp to ensure your room is painted to perfection and not too messy afterwards.

You spilled some paint into the tray and used a roller to begin putting the fresh paint on the middle of the wall. Harry gasps when he sees the color in contrast with the wood that covered every other wall in the room, “It matches so well,” he comments, using a smaller brush to begin on the bottom strip of the wall where the painters tape stuck.

He sat on the floor, his legs crossed beneath him, and you stood a few feet to his left, the paint sitting between the two of you.

You nod, “I know, it compliments the wood really well.”

Harry shakes his head, “Not the wood. I meant it matches my eyes,” he draws out.

You roll your eyes and let out a shut up before looking at him.

“Seriously,” he persists, setting his head next to the gallon that sat on the floor.

You raised your eyebrows and nodded slowly, dipping your roller back onto the tray, allowing the residue to fall off before you rolled a bit on his face and shirt.

“What the fuck?” he laughs, sitting up immediately.

“I had to check!” you exclaim innocently. “You know, now that I look, I think you’re right. It does match, we should use more,” you conclude.

“Now that I look,” Harry starts, with an evil glint in his eye, “I think this is the color your shirt is missing,” he concludes, flinging his brush in your direction allowing the paint to fall on your face and shirt.

“Oh my god!” you shout as Harry doubles over in laughter.

You bring your brush into the paint once more, taking a threatening step towards Harry. He flinches, making you chuckle and redirect the paint onto the wall again, making him breathe a sigh of relief.

He begins again on the bottom edge and before you could think you're safe, Harry gets paint on your ankle from where he sat on the floor.

You let out a loud gasp, “This is war!” you exclaim.

“Or you can just admit that you needed a break,” Harry shrugs, “It’s quite simple.”

You narrow your eyes and look at him, “I am going to cover you in paint. It’s quite simple,” you mock him childishly.

He shakes his head with a laugh before painting the rest of your ankle, making a ring around your foot.

It had taken two hours to complete painting the wall and to complete your paint war. You and Harry found yourselves in your backyard while your sprinklers were spraying the grass.

“Best way to clean,” Harry breathed out.

“You say you’re one with nature but what are you going to say when my grass is blue?” you ask him as you scrub at your legs to get off the paint.

“I’ll say part of me is really with nature this time,” he says shaking the water out of his hair as he walks towards the hose that was attached to the side of your house.

You shake your head in disbelief, “I don’t think that’s how it works,” you say, looking at Harry as he walks towards you with the hose gushing water out.

You step towards him and let him spray you down and you watch as the paint falls off your skin and into the grass, your shirt clinging to your body.

Harry tries to keep his attention on your face and not on the black bra that begins to show from your wet shirt that stuck to your body like a second skin.

You fiddled with the fit of your shirt, trying to make sure you were comfortable, before scrubbing your arms and legs clean.

Harry and you had decided after the first hit that you would do your best to avoid each other's faces just to make everything easier when it came to cleaning.

You rinse your hair fully before deciding you're as clean as you’d get without using a proper shower (which you didn’t want to turn blue from the paint), so you stepped towards Harry with your arm extended towards him.

“My turn,” Harry says softly, handing you the hose before spreading his arms out and letting the water hit his entire body, “This feels nice,” he comments.

“You’re crazy,” you reply. Harry shakes his head and takes his shirt off in an attempt to get everything off and you almost look away instinctively- you weren’t supposed to see your friend like this.

He allows the pressure of the hose to get most of the paint off his body but he seems a bit carefree about the cleanliness of his body at this point- you’re assuming this is the distraction you both needed from your mundane lives.

Harry finishes off with the hose and you run inside to grab the two of you towels, opting to stay outside for the rest of the night.

You both sit outside on the back porch swing that sat in your yard, wrapped in towels so you don’t get too cold in the autumn air. “You were right,” you mutter, leaning your head onto his shoulder.

“About?” Harry edges you on and you can practically hear him smiling through his words.

“I needed a break.”

What felt like a year was only two months and in those two months you had accomplished what you had been attempting since eighteen. You finished what seemed to be the perfect piece from a technical standpoint.

It told a story of betrayal and heartbreak and it included a plethora of twists in tone and changes in tempo and unresolved keys to add edge and lead the listener on. The piece, in theory, was among the most perfect ones written.

At least that's what Harry told you and that's what you tried to tell yourself.

You had just finished the process of getting it all recorded, recruiting some of your friends from the orchestra to take home your manuscript that you wrote in harmonies and new melodies to.

You spent a week editing the music together, sending recordings back, asking for retakes, and adjusting volumes, tempos, and tone before you were satisfied with the music.

All in all, it was a musically complex and fundamentally difficult piece that could be extended into a show or turned into a series of simpler solos- whatever would get your music sold to a publisher, you were willing to do.

You had contacts from your previous attempts at selling your compositions, contacts that rejected you but told you to come back if you had something new. You did not take the suggestion lightly.

You had mastered an email with your pitch- stating your name and your credentials, attaching a file of the piece, along with the score which separated individual parts and showed their dynamic together. It was your life's work and a story you were excited to sell, and that is why you were particularly excited when you received an email back the following week.

The email, in short, explained that a publisher would like to meet with you and is interested in helping you publish the music and help you get on the radar of a symphonic orchestra.

You were a giddy mess leading up to your meeting, your leg shaking in anticipation and your heart beating so loud you swear you could feel it in your throat. So, when it arrived it felt surreal.

You stepped into the tall building in a haze, your hands clutching onto your score and your body clad in your favorite orchestral dress that you find to be the one you wear to the majority of your auditions. You call it your good luck charm.

The receptionist was short and directed you to the fifth floor and gave you strict instructions to wait to be called in by Flynn Bradford’s assistant. You sat in the waiting room with a warm overcoat covering your body in the meantime.

When you got called up your hands began to sweat. You find your way into Bradford’s office and with a nervous step forward, you take your jacket off and sit down on the small chair before his desk.

“Hi, I’m Y/N Y/L/N,” you introduce yourself with a handshake, Bradford immediately recognizing your name.

“Flynn Bradford, a pleasure,” he returns with a friendly smile.

He was a middle aged man with a few silver hairs peeking through, but he wore a friendly smile and seemed very composed nonetheless. He took your score and opened it immediately. He looked over it in silence for a few moments, you sitting on the edge of your seat.

“I do have to say, Ms. Y/L/N, I was waiting to meet you so I could go over this with you. I think you’re a brilliant composer,” he speaks slowly.

You swallow harshly, “Thank you so much,” you gush, “I’ve been at it since I was a kid so I’m glad you liked it.”

He nods again, sifting through the pages, “And I have to say I’m impressed by the tone in the demo and the overall markup of the piece. I think there are a few minor changes that we’d like to see done but all in all I think it’s good.”

You nod your head quickly, “Of course and I was expecting to do so. I- uh- how many changes are we thinking about here?”

“Well it’s still your piece, so quite minor ones just to increase your chances of having it sold to a school or a symphony. Or, you could keep it how it is but that might not be the easiest to sell.”

“Right, so hypothetically, if I get all the changes done and we’re satisfied within a few weeks, it can go off to you?” you ask in shock.

“It seems to be that way, yes. I’ll send you a contract and some markups once I get to talk with my team about this. It would be best to get your own lawyer to look over this for copyright purposes and to make sure you’re alright with all the fine print,” he advises.

“Yes, I will definitely do that, yeah. Thank you so much,” you reiterate.

He hums a reply and hands you back your score with a tight lipped smile, “So this meeting was a bit quicker and the other might be too depending on what you like and want. Remember all the corrections we send are suggestions so you do what you want and we’ll be alright with whatever you choose to do,” he reminds you.

You nod and shake his hand once more, leaving the building with bright eyes and a winning score in your hands.

The first instinct you had as you sat back into your car was to call Harry but you were so overwhelmed with excitement you decided that going to see him at his house would be a better idea.

After all, he deserved to be the first person to know because he helped you so much when it came to the composition of this piece.

You were smiling incredibly wide as you made your way over to his townhouse in the city. His complex was very modern, a clear juxtaposition to your victorian styled home, but you welcomed it warmly. You enjoyed the prospect of having a place to go that is more minimal in comparison to your cluttered property.

It was hardly fifteen minutes before you parked outside of his home, your car finding its normal spot in the driveway of his garage.

Your legs carried you faster than you could have imagined, rushing you to the front of his house and your hand pounded against his door with a sense of urgency.

Harry took his time making his way downstairs, a towel around his waist and an impatient girl he had hardly met waited in his bed upstairs.

He opened his door slightly, allowing his head to peek out of the small crack he created, “Hey!” he exclaimed when he realized it was you.

“Hi! Can I come in?” you ask excitedly.

“I’m not exactly decent,” his hand scratches the back of his neck, “Can you wait down here as I get some clothes on?”

“Sure, take your time,” you nod in understanding, allowing Harry to make his way back upstairs.

“Who’s at the door?” the girl asks from her spot on his bed as Harry changes quickly into some sweatpants and an old t-shirt.

“Just a friend, she should be gone soon,” he replies.

“You sure? She seemed really excited to see you.”

Harry lets out a sigh, “Logan, I promise she's just a friend. And what does it matter anyway?”

“Well I don't want to be the other woman,” she pouts, “But if you say she’s just a friend then I believe you.”

“Thanks,” he called over his shoulder briefly as he made his way back downstairs to where you were waiting on his sofa.

“So whats up?” he asks, “Want anything to drink?”

“No, I’m alright. I have some news, though,” you say, enthusiasm raising once again.

“Okay, lay it on me,” Harry joins you on the sofa.

“So I met with Flynn Bradford today,” you lead on, hoping Harry could understand what the news was.

“No way,” he exclaimed after a moment of silence. “He picked you up? That’s amazing holy shit! Congrats!”

“Thanks! You helped so much, I thought you had to be the first to know. And on Wednesday you can help me decide what corrections to add, too. This is all so exciting! It’s happening so fast!” you ramble quickly, standing up and pulling Harry into a hug.

“No you did that all on your own! I knew they’d pick you up, too. So fucking talented,” he mumbles, returning your embrace.

“Thank you oh my goodness! Okay, I just wanted to come over quick to tell you that. I have to work on some audition music so I’ll head out in a few,” you say.

Harry opens his mouth to reply when you both hear his bedroom door open. Harry’s eyes widened in realization and your brows furrowed in confusion.

“Harry?” you hear an unrecognizable voice, “You done?”

You feel tears begin to well up in your eyes as you start to realize what was happening. He was with someone. He found someone and it wasn’t you.

She walks down the stairs and your head immediately turns in the direction of the girl. You inhale sharply, trying to keep your tears in the ducts of your eyes as you see her in a t-shirt you know Harry absolutely loves.

“Hey, uh Logan. This is Y/N,” he trails off lightly, waiting for you to introduce yourself.

“Hi,” you smile falsely and extend your hand for her to shake.

“Hey, I’m Logan. You’re Harry’s friend?” she presumes, looking at the two of you.

“Yeah, we’re pretty close,” you pause, “Sorry, I didn’t know H was seeing anyone. This was kind of unexpected.”

“Oh that’s alright, I was going to leave soon anyway. Have to meet some friends for dinner,” she shrugged carelessly.

“No, no, you can stay. I feel bad. I can be out in a few minutes,” you tell her with a soft smile.

She looked at you and Harry intervened before she could get a word out, “That’s alright, you can both stay if you want?” he suggested.

“I really do have to go,” Logan trailed off.

Harry quickly jumped at this, “Oh! Sorry, love. Yeah, go ahead, don’t mean to keep you here if you need to be somewhere.”

“I’ll just grab my stuff,” she smiles at the two of you and heads back upstairs to where you assume she was staying in Harry’s bedroom.

You and Harry stand in silence for a moment, “Sorry I should’ve asked to come over. I’ll go, you can spend some time with her before she leaves,” you finally stammer with a slightly wavering voice.

“No!” Harry exclaims a bit too loudly, making you flinch at his tone. “You can stay,” he whispers.

“That’s alright, I have to practice anyway,” you say in a rush, leaving his house at once without looking back at him.

It was two days later when Logan showed up at Harry’s house with a soft smile on her face and her eyes filled with lust.

Not only two minutes after Harry opened the door, his lips were on hers and they were making their ways upstairs to his bedroom. Logan had come to Harry’s for a quick fuck and Harry was there to provide.

It had taken them a few weeks to get into a flow and get a general idea of each others bodys and needs and now that they were getting good sex, they didn’t take many moments to stop and catch their breath.

There were a few moments, though where Logan knew she fell short of your company. She could tell with a quick glance at Harry that he was a lovesick puppy when it came to you and it became more and more apparent the more time they spent together.

When they weren’t fucking, he spent most of his free time talking about you. The girl of his dreams and the funniest, prettiest, nicest, person he’s ever met.

She had her hands in his hair and he had his hands tugging on her waist when his phone began buzzing from his bedside table.

Logan sat up from where she laid, straddling Harry’s lap. He let out a soft groan and ran and hand through his hair as he checked who had called him.

His lips fell into an effortless smile as he answered your call, leaving Logan breathless and unfulfilled. She resulted in getting up from his bed and walking out of his house once she realized it was you he was talking to.

That following Monday, you watched as Harry made his way into your home, an uncomfortable silence encompassing the two of you as you sat on your sofa.

“How was your date with Logan?” you ask eventually.

“Oh, it was- it wasn’t a date,” Harry tried to describe, leaving you confused. Harry wasn’t one for casual hookups.

“Then what was it?” you ask timidly, hoping for an answer you can understand.

“Just meeting an old friend from college,” he coughs.

“A friend?” you ask confused.

“Yeah, uh, a friend,” he emphasized.

“Oh,” you let out softly, “Why’d you get back with her?” you ask.

“I don’t think the girl I like likes me back, so I wanted a distraction” he replies vaguely, turning on your TV in search of a new film to watch on Netflix.

You swallow the lump in your throat before replying, “I don’t see why she wouldn’t.”

Harry looks at you for the first time that day, “Well she doesn’t act like it at all, so I think I’m pretty sure she doesn’t like me.”

“I think you should tell her how you feel,” you shrug, “What is there to lose?”

“A person who I value a lot in my life,” he replies almost instantly.

You didn’t reply after that, allowing the film Harry chose in a haze to begin and you sink further into the sofa.

It had been an eventful week. You had sent back your manuscript twice between today and your original week and yesterday you had auditioned for the live orchestra for the annual Nutcracker production.

This had been your fifth year playing in it- you were very confident in your ability to get a spot in the orchestra- but it was the solo that brought you grief. Every year, each section had a competitive fight between musicians for the solos that are littered through the production.

You found that the busy week that had followed you around became the main reason you were able to get your mind off Harry. No matter what you did he meandered his way into your thoughts and you were beginning to feel pathetic that your mood relied on him.

It was when you came home from auditions on Tuesday evening when you got a phone call from Harry. You hesitantly picked up the phone and allowed him to speak first.

“Y/N? You there? Can you talk for a second?” he asked.

“Yeah, what’s up,” you reply.

“I need your advice. I think Logan wants to start seeing someone but she won’t admit it to me so I don’t know what I should do because I don’t want her to hold back on it just because of me,” he pushes quickly.

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, “Well why wouldn’t she admit she wants to see someone? She probably likes you, H, don’t worry. She’ll talk to you if she likes someone else.”

You heard a heavy sigh come from Harry’s end of the line as you picked up all your belongings from your car, your phone sitting between your shoulder and ear. “Yeah, I just- I don’t think she wants to tell me for some reason.”

What you didn’t know was that Harry was trying to prolong this call in an attempt to see if you would tell him to cut it off with Logan. It had only been a few weeks, and to be fair he hadn’t hooked up with her more then three times.

He knew he loved you but he needed confirmation that you liked him back. Logan insisted that you did but he didn’t trust her judgement as much as he trusted his own.

As you learned through numerous conversations with Harry, he is a charming man, but he is also a confusing one. He isn’t direct and he seems to beat around the bush when it comes to serious things in his life.

“Okay,” you say, confused, “Well just tell her that if she can’t be honest then she’s never going to be able to break it off with you. And if she says the same thing and you still don’t believe her just cut it off,” you advise selfishly.

You wanted to help Harry, you truly did, but you were also a human. You were selfish and needy and you wanted Harry to yourself. So, you did what a selfish, and jealous, girl would do and you hinted at breaking it off.

“Thanks,” he let out a huff of air, “Sorry, I have to sort some stuff out and I’m really stressed so I wanted your opinion about this,” he apologizes.

“It’s alright. Let me know how it goes, yeah? I gotta run some errands but I’ll see you tomorrow?” you confirm.

Harry hums in agreement and you hang up first, leaving him with the dial tone on his phone.

The first thing you do when you get in your office is check your email. You were waiting on a reply from Bradford- you had just sent in another round of corrections and asked him for minor technical critiques to finish off the piece. You were proud of where it was and you were thoroughly in love with it.

Just as you opened your laptop, you saw the taunting icon saying you have an unread email. You attempted to calm your nerves before opening it, preparing yourself for almost all senders.

But calming your nerves turned into a loud scream. Bradford had replied and informed you that he loved the piece and accepts it as your final draft. He also mentioned that he will fax over the legal documents to look over before meeting with him officially and signing all the necessary contracts.

Just as he said, later that night you received a thick stack of papers to sift off to your parents to help you look over and make sure everything was alright for you to sign.

You bind all the pages together with a few paperclips and make a quick drive into the suburbs to give your parents the good news and ask them to help you find someone to look over all the papers for you.

Your parents weren’t the most enjoyable people to live with but they were great to see in moderation. It was a large showcase of love every time you or Monica came home- they cooked, cleaned, and helped with just about everything you asked.

So, when you arrived home, you got the full treatment. Your mom had cooked a nice dinner for you all and your dad helped you look over the contracts in their entirety as you waited for dinner to be served. You deemed the papers safe and the three of you decided you could sign on them as soon as possible and get all the proper licensing.

You were overjoyed on your drive home and the moment you arrived back, you sent Bradford a quick email from your phone saying you can meet anytime to sign and that you had looked over the contracts.

The following morning, you had gotten back a response stating he was free later that afternoon and you took him up on his offer to sign on the fine Wednesday.

You met him back at his office, similar to the first time, and you had brought all the papers he had sent you, giving him a solid rundown of what you were expecting and negotiating royalties.

You had taken half an hour to settle on a final deal and Bradford had gotten the contracts readjusted for you to sign.

It was nerve wracking but exciting to be holding the pen in your hand and you signed page after page, ensuring your music could be sold and would be given proper care and proper copyright laws.

“Last one right here, Y/N,” Bradford encouraged you. Your wrist grew tired but you refused to complain considering how much you wanted this and how long you waited.

“Okay,” you grunted, signing your name sloppily and allowing Bradford to pull all the papers out from under your hold.

“So, what this all ensures from our relationship standpoint is that we are the primary distributor and we will be helping with copyright and making sure you get your money's worth,” he briefs with a chuckle. He straightens out the stack and stands up with a smile on his face.

You follow in suit and stand up at the desk, straightening out your pants, “Thank you so much,” you gush.

“Thank you for thinking to work with us,” Bradford countered, making you shake your head.

“Of course,” you say kindly, “And I appreciate all you’ve done for me these past few weeks. Been a huge help.”

“Oh it was our pleasure, Y/N. You're a wonderful artist. I think we all enjoyed working with your piece.”

You shake Bradfords hand and exchange pleasantries as you exit his office with a smile on your face.

It was the rush of relief that went through your body that helped you realize the gravity of what just happened. Your music has been sold and now has the opportunity to be in music shops, orchestras, and played all across the globe. And that was a great feeling.

It was indescribable, to say the least. It had taken over a year to compose the piece and you had multiple failed attempts prior to this one. The piece you named Domicile was quite literally a love letter to your life.

The piece went through the ups and downs of love. Domestic love, platonic love, romantic love. It was all encompassed in the piece you titled home.

Written from the back of your mind, you had no idea how to articulate how proud of yourself you were. It was self expression and it was beautiful.

Later that evening, Harry arrived at your home as he usually did. He held a small calculator and his laptop in his arm as he abandoned his car in your driveway and made his way up to your door.

He knocked before opening it, knowing you always forget to lock it when you came home from work, and he followed the noise of soft jazz down the hall and into your office.

The paint smell had finally vanished the room and he found you sitting comfortably on the floor with your legs folded beneath you. “Hey, how was your day?” He asks, walking in and sitting across from you on the floor.

“Really fucking good,” you grin, making eye contact with him.

“Care to explain?” he asks with wide eyes and an encouraging smile.

“Yes,” you say dramatically, “I, Y/N Y/L/N, am officially,” you pause for effect.

“Oh come on,” Harry groans in anticipation.

“I am officially a signed artist,” you squeal in excitement.

“No fucking way,” he says softly, “No fucking way!” he yells. “I knew you would oh my goodness! This is amazing! We have to celebrate-” he rambles on.

“Harry!” you exclaim with a giggle, “No need to celebrate this is enough!” you assure.

“No, no, no,” Harry says, “We gotta do something. Even if it’s just a dinner with Mon and I. We gotta.”

“No,” you reiterate firmly.

“Fine,” Harry says, “But you’re coming with me,” he says standing up. He extends his hand out and helps you stand before leading you to your living room.

He gently tugs your arm towards him and he presses his chest up against yours. “Play it on the speaker, love,” he whispers.

“Okay,” you say softly, pulling back and using your phone to play the symphony over your speaker system per Harry’s request.

Harry smiled at you and gently put his hand up to yours, interlocking your fingers and holding you tightly. “Dance with me?” he asks with a cheeky grin.

“Of course, sir,” you tease, stepping into his hold, his arms wrapping around your waist and your hands draped over his shoulders lightly.

“I’m really proud of you,” he whispers, swaying back and forth.

“Thank you so much,” you hum, “Seriously, you helped with so much of it. I really appreciate it.”

Harry ducked his head in a bashful manner, unsure of how to reply to your high praise, “I’d do it again if I had to.”

You shake your head, looking out the window next to you two. The sun was setting and the sky was a painting of oranges and pinks, “God, Harry.”

“What,” he chuckles, following your gaze.

“I cannot believe you’re real,” you whisper, you hand moving to meet his jaw. You graze your thumb over his skin in utter disbelief.

“Harry?” you call out softly. He was zoned out, staring at your profile.

“Yeah?”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Course.”

“Can I kiss you?” you breathe out timidly. You don’t know where exactly you got all the courage that consumed your body at that current moment, but you were thankful for it.

Harry swallowed thickly before his eyes met yours, “Yes please,” he whispers back at you.

Your hand that rested on his jaw caressed the skin for a moment before you leaned into his warmth. Your lips met his lightly, you pulling away too quickly for his liking. Harry looked at you once more before leaning forward and allowing his lips to meet yours heavily.

You smile into his mouth, absolute joy coursing through your veins as he kissed you so carefully but so harshly. Your bodies stilled into the kiss, your mouths moving in sync slowly, absorbing every inch of each other.

Harry lets out a small groan as you grind slowly against him, his head threatening to roll back if it weren’t for your hand holding his head still.

His hands moved along your back comfortingly making your body melt into his expertly. You pull away again, Harry looking at you with dimmed eyes, you completely out of breath, “Songs over,” you whisper.

“So restart it,” he replies with a small grin.

Harry ended up seeing the full performance of Midsummer the last night it was performed at the theater. He apologized profusely and insisted he’d see the last of the show if it was the last thing he did, so you let him come and sit right in the front as he wished.

Just as the first time, he sent you smiles of luck before your solo and a few more afterwards to show he was proud of you. Just as you anticipated, he is the best person to cheer you on during a performance.

You knew Harry would be waiting for you in the lobby, so you held off on putting your overcoat on and allowed yourself to step out of the backstage area with your black dress and short heels, your clarinet and jacket in hand.

He held his arm out for you once you became close enough for him to wrap his fingers around your waist and you walked into his hold, “I got something for you,” he tells you.

“Oh yeah? And what’s that?” you ask with a smile creeping its way onto your lips.

Harry smiles at you before handing you the flowers that sat in his other hand. It was an assortment of long stem red roses, what he read to be the traditional rose to give after a performance.

“Thank you,” you whisper in awe, your eyes meeting his as he looks at you.

Harry hums in response and tugs you closer to his body before leaving a quick peck on your lips and pulling away just as fast as he approached you.

You and Harry were confused to say the least. You had both confirmed you liked each other the night you got signed but you found it difficult for the two of you to label what was going on. Harry wanted it to be exclusive and you wanted to give it a trial run to see how it would work. And though you did give it a trial run, the two of you were yet to discuss what was going on.

You assumed this would be like any other relationship you had been in- after a few months and a handful of dates, you’d consider yourselves partners- but this was vastly different. You have known Harry for a few years now and he has always been a part of your life. So what counted as a date and what was as normal?

Well, tonight constituted a date. Harry had told you before he arrived that he would be taking you out for a nice dinner after your show and to be ready for the best night of your life. You rolled your eyes at his antics and humored him by showing him the outfit you had picked out- the dress you found yourself wearing every Sunday- and a different jacket then you usually wore- this one more flattering for the body.

Harry nodded in approval at this and made his way to the theater, you asking one of your friends to give you a ride so you could go home with Harry later that night.

Now you sat in Harry’s car with his hand resting on your knee, your hand covering his as he drives you both to dinner. He was clad in the same suit he wore the first time he saw you and it subtly matched the black dress and white coat with pleats that you wore next to him.

Harry informed you when you got in the car that he would be taking you to his favorite (fancy) steakhouse in the next city over. Before you could protest her told you it was in celebration of your final performance and being signed, therefore your protests would only further encourage him.

“Will these flowers be alright sitting in the car during dinner?” you ask him.

“Not sure,” he chuckles, looking over at you, “I’ll get you new ones if they aren’t.”

“No!” you’re quick to stop him, “You don’t have to do that.”

“Well what if I want to? You gonna stop me from fulfilling my inner desires?” he asks you teasingly.

You roll your eyes at him and look out the window. The soft sounds of Everywhere by Fleetwood Mac fill the silence as Harry exits the highway and turns into the parking lot of Del Friscos, the steakhouse.

Harry exits the car first, rushing to your door so he can open the door for you. You smile at him as you step out of the car and walk in the building hand in hand.

The restaurant was dimly lit and had high, round booths around the perimeter of the room, tables with pristine white tablecloths among the center. Harry met the host with a small smile and a, “Styles, party of two,” before being led to a corner booth with you in toe.

You smile at Harry as you slide into the booth, your hands making their way to the hem of your dress and tugging on it, “This place is really nice,” you comment your voice laced with insecurity.

“Yup, that’s why we look really nice,” Harry reminds you.

“I feel like this is normal,” you chuckle, “I wear this every Sunday.”

“My girl looks this nice every Sunday and I never knew? Might have to make a pit stop Sunday nights too,” Harry compliments.

You feel the heat rush to your cheeks, “I’d be alright with that.”

Harry smiles at you as a waitress comes over and asks what drinks you’d like.

The dinner was filling and well-made, you found yourself laughing harder than you ever had and eating the best food you’ve had in awhile.

Harry held your hand as you left the steakhouse and he opened the passenger seat door for you, rushing to the other side to turn the heater on for you, “One more stop before I bring ya home,” Harry tells you.

Your brows furrowed in confusion, “Alright, where?”

“Oh, Y/N, you should know by now that if I don’t tell you it’s a secret!”

“Well it was worth a try,” you shoot him a smile, your hand finding its place in his.

Harry hums in agreement, “Just know if I want you to know, you’ll know.”

You let out a laugh at his stubbornness, “Alright sir,” you say in a posh accent.

Harry lets out an exaggerated hey before saying, “That’s what I sound like when I talk to my boss.

You burst out in laughter and Harry goes on to tell you an embarrassing story from the first time he met his boss.

When Harry’s car reverses into a spot, your eyes shoot up in surprise at your arrival at the hardly-built riverwalk in your town. It was a new location and half the restaurants were still in the process of being built but it was still a nice place to go.

You catch the door before Harry can, you send him a smug smile and take his hand as he tugs you gently towards the ice cream shop he seemed to be eyeing.

The location was dimly lit with blue tinted lights and a few wall sconces that gave a warm orange glow.

“How did you know I wanted to come here?” you asked him finally, coming to a stop and stepping inside the building.

“It’s just about the only thing you’ve talked about for about two months,” Harry teased you with an accusatory finger.

Your lips curve upwards as you exhale a laugh, “Okay, you got me there.”

Harry smirks at you as you look at the menu before you, stepping up to the teen worker who looked far too tired to be awake, “Can I get a scoop of chocolate? And he’ll have,” you point at Harry.

“Uh- I’ll have a scoop of vanilla with graham crumbs please,” Harry gives the worker a cheeky grin and wraps his arm around your waist as you wait for your cones.

You smile in thanks as Harry pays, heading out of the building almost immediately to be met with a gust of wind and a lit up river beside you.

Harry stays by your side as you both walk in silence taking in the scenery, eating your ice cream peacefully. It was a really nice way to spend your evening and you found yourselves enjoying each other's presence more than each other's conversation.

“Okay,” you swallow the last bit of your ice cream, “What’s your dream travel destination?” you ask.

Harry's eyebrows raise in amusement, “What, did you look up first date questions?”

You stifle out a laugh, “Maybe, I didn’t know if it would be awkward.”

Harry lets out an exaggerated, “Ha!” before redirecting you back in the direction of his car, “That’s cute that you care so much.”

“What and you don’t care?” you tease.

“I care just not enough to google first day questions,” he pokes your side playfully.

You laugh out a “Fine!” and redirect the conversation to your performance from earlier that night.

It was a full week apart from Harry and you were excited to reunite with him. Your week had been full with auditions for different parts in the Nutcracker every day so you found yourself unavailable to spend your Monday and Wednesday with Harry, having little to no time to yourself.

Now, the following Sunday, the only thing between Harry and yourself was your front door.

Harry was officially invited to your orchestra’s gala in celebration of completing Midsummer. You both had decided that Harry would arrive promptly two hours before you needed leave and you two would get ready together.

He was lying down on your bed as you leaned over your bathroom counter in an attempt to perfect your eyeliner, “Don’t know why you bother with that,” you hear him grumble.

You let out a chuckle and stood back to decide if it was even enough, “Me neither it’s too fucking hard.”

Harry lets out a snort, “That's what she said.”

You rolled your eyes and looked at him through your mirror, “You sure you’re not fifteen?”

Harry smiles, “You sure The Office is only for fifteen year olds?” he shoots back.

Your face matches his and you lean into the mirror once more to perfect your eyeliner before moving to your closet to change into your dress for the night, prompting Harry to begin getting into his suit as well.

Today, for the nicer event, you wore a nude dress with navy accents towards the bottom and a leg slit Harry thought made you look absolutely ravishing. And, in perfect coordination, Harry wore a navy suit with a white half-buttoned shirt underneath and his favorite red boots that reminded him of an old western movie you’d watched a few months back.

He held your hand as you stepped out of your closet and let out a dramatic “Oh damn!” at first sight before spinning you around so he can get a full idea of your outfit.

You fall into a fit of giggles and collapse into his hold and he sways back and forth, “I really like you,” he whispers.

“Yeah?” you reply with a grin, “I like you a lot back.”

“Well how lucky am I?”

“So damn lucky,” you tell him as you let out a silent giggle, “Come on, let's head out.”

The drive to the theater seemed all too short for the both of you. You were sitting in a comfortable silence enjoying each other's company on the way there, stealing a few kisses at a red light or a longing glance while Harry was concentrating on changing lanes during rush hour.

When you arrived at the hotel the gala was held at, you both found your way inside and to the tables that were set up with your names on small place cards. You both sat there in soft chatter as you awaited the arrival of your friends who were to sit at the same table.

Eventually, you were met with a crowd of people around your table and your voices raised in volume and excitement. It was merely 8:00 when your ears were greeted by the sound of a disconnected microphone.

“Hello, everyone, I’m Jordan Pennington, the conductor of the Midsummer Night’s Dream orchestra performance and I’m here to recognize each performer for their outstanding work over the course of these past months,” his voice cut through the room like glass.

Jordan then went on to state each performer and his favorite memory with them through the course of the orchestral production.

“Y/N Y/L/N,” Jordan introduced, an image of you as a baby and you now making their way onto the screen behind him, “Y/N is a strong clarinetist we are blessed to have in our group. She works very hard in the theater and outside and has recently been signed as a composer so I’m hoping I’ll be conducting her work soon,” he paused as people congratulated you. You didn’t publicize your signing, so a lot of people were in shock and impressed.

“She’s been with us for a while so we have a few good memories with her at this theater but I think everybody's favorite is just about any time Y/N brings lunch,” he pauses as everyone starts laughing. You bury your face in your hands as Harry looks at you with a confused smile.

“When Y/N brings lunch she without fail trips on one of the steps and spills something,” Jordan informs. You let out an exaggerated groan, eliciting more laughter and Harry covers his mouth in an attempt to stifle his laughter.

“Can we move on?” you call out.

Jordan lets out a laugh and obliges, moving onto the next person on his list.

You glance at Harry who is taking a sip of wine and you raise your eyebrows at him, making him nearly spit out his drink, “Sorry, love,” he coughs out, bringing you in for a hug, “Just sounds so much like you it’s impossible,” he tells you.

You roll your eyes at him and continue to listen as Jordan goes through the rest of your orchestra.

When he finishes, your food is devoured and the middle of the room is opened to allow people to dance. You glance at Harry and take his hand, reminding him of the night you first kissed, “Come on,” you mutter.

He allows you to take him to the center of the room where some of your colleagues have begun to conglomerate and dance slowly to the tune of Ed Sheeran’s Thinking Out Loud, you two joining in the mass.

Unlike last time, you knew exactly how to act, your arms immediately finding a home around his shoulders and pulling him close so your flesh is against his.

Harry smiled at this and squeezed you at the waist as a silent way of saying I love you, his head leaning in towards yours and your foreheads resting against each other.

“How is it that we always end up dancing?” he asks you.

“Not sure, I was never good at it either but here I am,” you chuckle a reply.

Harry’s eyes shoot up in disbelief, “There is no way you weren’t a good dancer.”

“Swear on it,” you say, your lips tugging upwards to make a smile.

“No. I refuse to believe that, you’re so good,” he says, his eyes shooting down to your feet and then back up to your eyes making you giggle.

“Nope,” you say confidently, “Just found you and you were good. By association I’m good.”

“So what you’re saying is you found the right partner?” he asks, wiggling his eyebrows at you.

You fall into a full belly laugh at his antics before agreeing, “I found the right partner.”

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles fic #harry styles x reader #harry styles one shot #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shots #harry styles oneshots #harry styles fluff #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic

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knuffled · 4 years ago

Text

Just Practice - Chapter 15

this is the most important chapter in the story so far since chapter seven, so i hope you enjoy this! if you could drop a comment and/or reblog to support all the hard work, it would mean a lot to me!

here’s the ao3 link

The first thing that greeted Annabeth when she stepped out of her car was the sound of crashing waves and the smell of sea salt carried on a gentle breeze. She leaned against the side of her car and drank in the view of the ocean, relishing in the way the wind tousled her hair. The beach was packed with families and college students on spring break, and for good reason. It was late March, and the weather was absolutely perfect outside. The sand was pleasantly warm between her toes, and seagulls cawed overhead in a clear blue sky.

Coming to the beach for spring break had been Rachel’s idea. Her father owned a villa not far from the shore, and she had offered to let them all stay there overnight. It was exactly what Annabeth needed after the past month and a half. After Percy’s victory at state, Annabeth had been absolutely swamped with school work. Nearly every week there was some new project deadline, essay to turn in, or exam to study for, and by the time finals rolled around, Annabeth found herself running on fumes. She hadn’t realized how bad it was until she came home after her final exam and promptly passed the fuck out in her room only to wake up the following afternoon, seventeen hours later.

Annabeth gave herself some time to just stand barefoot in the sand until Piper texted her, informing her that she and Jason were setting up camp further down the beach where it was more secluded. Taking that as her cue to move, Annabeth leisurely made her way down the beach and found Piper and Jason a few minutes later, trying to set up a beach umbrella. The umbrella was an ancient red and white striped monstrosity that looked like it had seen better days. Annabeth watched her friends struggle for a while, amused by how frustrated they were getting when the base of the umbrella slipped in the sand, until Piper noticed her and scowled.

“Are you just gonna stand there and watch or do you plan on helping out?” Piper huffed.

“But you were doing oh so well without me,” Annabeth said innocently. “I wouldn’t want to get in the way or anything.”

Jason put a hand on Piper’s shoulder before she could snap and offered Annabeth a tired smile. “We could really use your help, Annabeth.”

“Well, since you asked so nicely.”

Piper muttered something foul under her breath, but Annabeth couldn’t help grinning anyways before she went to help Jason. It took longer than she would have liked, but eventually the three of them managed to get the umbrella to stay in place, just as Hazel, Frank, and Leo arrived.

Leo pointed at the umbrella and said, “That thing looks like it came straight out of the fifties.”

“Shut it, Valdez,” Piper snapped. “We just spent nearly twenty minutes trying to get that fucker to stay still.”

Leo held his palms up in surrender. “Ok, apologies. Looks like someone got up on the wrong side of the bed this morning. I get it. It’s cool.”

“That wasn’t an invitation to keep talking,” Piper warned.

Leo pantomimed zipping his lips, making Annabeth grin. Rolling her eyes, Hazel unzipped her backpack and handed each of them a bottle of homemade lemonade.

“Hopefully, it’s still cold and all the ice didn’t melt,” Hazel said.

Piper took a sip and moaned, “Hazel, you’re a goddamn lifesaver.”

“Don’t make noises like that in public,” Annabeth quipped.

Although she wanted to glare at Annabeth, Piper spotted Rachel and Percy further down the beach and called out to them instead. Annabeth’s heart suddenly began pounding harder in her chest, and she found herself involuntarily searching for him over her shoulder. They had barely talked or even seen each other since State, so she had expected to be more excited to see him, but she found herself strangely nervous instead. The nervousness only grew worse for some reason when Percy noticed her and sent her a warm smile.

“Sorry we’re late,” Percy said. “Rache forgot something so we had to drive back to her place.”

“Let’s not sweat the details,” Rachel said, waving her hand dismissively. “Now, I don’t know about you all, but I am dying to get into the water. Anyone know where the changing rooms are?”

“I saw some on the way here,” Hazel said. “Annabeth, did you want to join us?”

Annabeth cleared her throat and shook her head. “Uh, no, I’m wearing my swimsuit under my clothes already.”

With that, Hazel nodded and left with Rachel for the changing rooms. The boys went down to the water, but Percy stayed behind since he had brought some beach towels with him. He spread them beneath the umbrella so they wouldn’t have to sit on the sand. Piper left a short while later once she was done applying some sunscreen, leaving Annabeth and Percy alone. Annabeth borrowed Piper’s sunscreen as an excuse to leave after Percy did, but he plopped down beside her with a sigh instead.

Annabeth couldn’t help sneaking a quick sidelong glance at him. He looked good, really good. His unzipped black sweatshirt billowed in the breeze and stood in sharp contrast to the white shirt he wore underneath. There was a relaxed, easy smile on his face, and his sun-kissed skin made him look positively radiant.

“Hey, stranger,” Percy said, derailing her thoughts. “Haven’t seen you in a hot minute.”

Annabeth tucked her hair behind her reddening ears and said, “Y-Yeah, not since State, I think.”

“Glad to see you’re still in one piece,” Percy said.

Annabeth breathed a laugh. “Not entirely sure about that.”

Percy cocked his head to the side and studied her. “You do look a little worse for the wear.”

“Rude.”

“And who’s fault is that?” Percy asked, raising an eyebrow. “I distinctly remember warning you not to take three AP courses your senior year, but you wouldn’t listen to me.”

Annabeth scowled and said, “You don’t have to sound so smug about it.”

Percy laughed and leaned back on his elbows. “And what would be the fun in that? It’s not every day that you get to tell Annabeth Chase that you told her so.”

“Someone sure sounds awfully pleased with himself.”

“Oh, believe me, I am,” Percy said, grinning. “But I do suppose I can cut you some slack. You know, considering how we’re at the beach and all.”

“How magnanimous of you,” Annabeth deadpanned.

Percy made a show of clapping mildly. “Oh, well done. That sounded like an SAT word.”

Annabeth barked a laugh despite herself and shoved him, but that only made his grin widen. She was relieved to feel the awkwardness dissipating between them, but her respite was short lived because Percy suddenly removed his shirt and tossed it on the towel beside her.

“W-What are you doing? Why are you taking off your clothes?” Annabeth stammered, unable to hide the panic in her voice.

Percy looked at her like she had sprouted a second head. “It’s kind of hard to go swimming when you still have your clothes on.”

Annabeth looked away to hide the fact that her face was turning pink. “I know that! But can’t you go change in the changing rooms?”

Percy blinked in surprise and said, “Oh, sorry. You’ve seen me do this like a hundred times, so I didn’t think that you’d mind.”

He was right. She had seen him shirtless more times than she could count, so why was she suddenly being so weird about it? She needed to get a fucking grip. And yet, it was everything she could do not to stare shamelessly at him. Christ, at this proximity, the scent of his cologne was inescapable, and it only served to make her feel even more flustered.

“Annabeth, are you okay? You’ve been acting really strange,” Percy said.

“I-I’m fine,” Annabeth squeaked. “Just tired.”

“Alright, try not to push yourself,” Percy said, standing up. “I’m gonna head down to the water now. Let me know if you need anything.”

Annabeth nodded, still refusing to look at him. It was only after he was gone that she stopped holding her breath. She screwed her eyes shut and buried her face in her hands. What the fuck was she doing? Why was she acting so weird? All her feelings seemed to contradict one another. She felt a bizarre mix of exhilaration and anxiety, like thousands of butterflies fluttering about in the pit of her stomach. Her eyes were drawn to Percy even though she couldn’t bear to look at him. There was definitely something wrong with her.

Annabeth took a deep breath and forced herself to stand up and head down to the water. For now, she resolved herself to just make the most of her time at the beach instead of wallowing in her own awkwardness. Nevertheless, she did make a point of avoiding where Percy was to give herself a breather. However, in her momentary lapse of concentration, Piper snuck up on her and tackled her into the sea, sending salt water rushing up her nose.

She surfaced sputtering and discombobulated only to find Piper laughing uproariously behind her. Annabeth chased after her in a murderous rage, but Piper quickly retreated to the sea and put some distance between them. Piper had always been the better swimmer, so it took a few minutes before Annabeth finally caught her, but once she did, Annabeth dunked her underwater for a full minute as payback.

Eventually, Rachel and Hazel returned from the changing rooms and joined them in the water as well. They all splashed around together for a few hours under the midday sun, and Annabeth forgot all about how awkward she felt around Percy.

They broke for lunch after that and settled on a shack that sold burgers further up the beach. Unfortunately, the only vegetarian option on the menu was fries, so Piper had to drive herself to a nearby Taco Bell. Annabeth couldn’t help feeling sorry for her when Piper returned twenty minutes later, absolutely livid, because the rest of them had already finished eating.

“I can’t fucking believe there are still restaurants in this day and age that don’t have vegetarian options,” Piper fumed.

“Remind me to buy some stuff for dinner tonight so you don’t have to do this again,” Rachel said, yawning.

“How far away is your villa again?” Frank asked.

“Just a fifteen minute drive or so,” Rachel said, finishing her salad. “We’ve got a firepit out back, so we can have a bonfire tonight! We can make smores and everything.”

“Dibs on lighting the bonfire,” Leo said quickly.

“Abso-fucking-lutely not,” Piper said vehemently.

“C’mon, I promise I’ll keep it under control this time, Pipes,” Leo pleaded.

“The last time you were in charge of the bonfire, you nearly burned my fucking house down,” Piper snapped.

“That was like three years ago!”

“It was at my birthday last June.”

“I’ll handle the fire, Leo,” Jason interrupted. “You can help me out if you’d like.”

Leo sank in his seat and crossed his arms over his chest. “You guys are no fun.”

“A bonfire sounds nice,” Frank said, ignoring him.

“Yeah, it’ll be chill,” Rachel said, nodding. “We’ll have a section of the beach all to ourselves. I think my dad probably has some alcohol stashed away somewhere in the house.”

“Percy, watch over us and make sure we don’t do anything stupid,” Piper said, throwing an arm around his shoulder.

Percy gave her a wary look. “I don’t recall volunteering to be a babysitter.”

“But you’re the only one here that doesn’t drink,” Piper protested. “Pretty please?”

Percy raised an eyebrow. “Buttering me up isn’t going to work, you know.”

“Annabeth, help me convince your boyfriend,” Piper whined.

Annabeth paused mid-drink and looked between them. “Don’t look at me. I’m not the one that’ll get black-out drunk and try to like hunt for mermaids or something.”

That got a laugh out of everyone, much to Piper’s chagrin.

After they finished eating, they returned to their spot under the umbrella. Hazel and Frank went back to laze around in the water while Rachel and Leo decided to go build sandcastles on the beach. The rest of them sat under the umbrella and talked amongst themselves for a while, but eventually Jason left for the bathroom. Percy joined him because he said he had spotted a shop selling snow cones on the way here, leaving Annabeth alone with Piper.

Once they were out of earshot, Piper turned to Annabeth with a wolfish grin. “Lovin’ the swimsuit, babe.”

“This is hardly anything special,” Annabeth said, rolling her eyes. She was just wearing a plain black two piece she’d found at Target the summer before.

Piper raised an eyebrow and said, “Percy certainly seemed to think it was. Boy couldn’t take his eyes off you.”

Annabeth blinked in surprise. Piper had to be trolling her. Sure, she had felt his eyes on her a few times, but that didn’t mean anything.

“You’re obviously fucking with me.”

“I’m being serious,” Piper laughed. “You look hot, Annababe.”

Annabeth looked down at her swimsuit and felt her face heat up. She didn’t really think she was much to look at honestly. It wasn’t like she had low self-esteem or anything, but her body had always been more of an instrument to her than a source of beauty. If you asked her, the only things she really had going for her were her height and the slender, toned physique that she had built over years of running long distance. Beyond that, Annabeth thought she was rather plain.

“Thanks,” Annabeth mumbled.

“You’re welcome,” Piper said, stifling a yawn. “I wonder what’s taking him so long.”

Annabeth shielded her eyes from the sun and scanned the beach for Percy, but she didn’t see him anywhere. Instead of sitting around and getting stuck in her thoughts, Annabeth decided to take her mind off things and search for him instead.

She stood up and brushed the sand off her thighs and said, “I’m gonna go look for him.”

“Ok, stay safe,” Piper said. “I think I’m going to take a nap.”

Annabeth nodded and made her way back in the direction of the parking lot. Percy had said that the snow cone shop was on the other end, but he still should have gotten back by now. Maybe he was having trouble carrying all those snow cones by himself or perhaps the line was really long. She made it all the way to the shop without running into Percy, and she couldn’t see him standing in line either.

She scanned the surrounding area for him without much luck and almost gave up on her search when she spotted the familiar outline of his back. He was cradling a carton of snow cones in his arms and talking to two college aged girls. Annabeth took a step forward, trepidation filling her chest. She couldn’t make out the look on his face because his back was turned towards her, but she thought she caught a glimpse of a polite, confused smile on his face, like he wasn’t entirely sure why the girls were talking to him.

Annabeth balled her hands in fists at her sides and clenched her jaw. It was obvious by the way the girls laughed sycophantically and twirled their hair, practically thrusting their tits in his face, that they were hitting on him. What did the idiot think would happen if he was gonna waltz around the beach shirtless like that?

She had half a mind to go over and interrupt them, but for some reason she found herself rooted in place. Annabeth wasn’t sure why she disliked them so much, but the more she thought about it, the less reason she realized she had to interfere. Percy wasn’t actually her boyfriend after all. Besides, he was free to leave at any time, but he hadn’t which probably meant he wanted to be there. In any case, it was none of her business to step in.

And yet, she couldn’t force herself to simply turn on her heels and leave either.

But then one of the girls, a haughty looking redhead, started tugging on his forearm insistently. Percy made a small show of resistance, enough to show he wasn’t interested, but apparently they didn’t seem to pick up on that because the other girl decided to help her friend by tugging Percy’s other arm.

Annabeth moved without realizing what she was doing and pulled Percy against her chest. A possessive thrill rushed through her when the look of discomfort on his face gave way to relief once he saw her.

She positioned herself in front of Percy and glared at the girls. “What’s going on here?”

The redhead’s eyes flashed with irritation, but she forced herself to muster a saccharine smile. “Oh, we were just inviting him to come have some drinks with us.”

“Can’t you see he’s clearly uncomfortable?” Annabeth asked. “I’m guessing he even told you he doesn’t drink too.”

The girls exchanged looks with each other. “I mean, he was obviously joking about that.”

Annabeth raised an eyebrow. “Or maybe you just don’t know how to take no for an answer.”

The girls recoiled like they had been slapped across the face. Annabeth took the opportunity to whisper to Percy that they were leaving and led him away by the hand before the girls could react. The girls protested behind them, but the only thing Annabeth could focus on was the feeling of Percy’s hand in hers. Blood pounded in Annabeth’s ears, and something simmered in her veins like magma. It took her a while to realize that Percy was calling out for her to stop.

“Annabeth, slow down,” Percy said. “You’re hurting me.”

Annabeth dropped his wrist like she’d been burned and looked away. “Sorry.”

Percy set the snow cones down and rubbed his wrist. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“Are you sur-”

“I said I’m fine,” Annabeth snapped.

Her tone was harsh enough to prove she was lying, but she couldn’t help it. Something dark smoldered in the pit of her stomach, making her restless. She didn’t know what it was, but the sensation was intolerable and she wanted it to stop.

Percy put a hand on her shoulder and forced her to face him. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

Annabeth balled her hands into fists and stared at her feet. “I-I don’t know. I’m just- I don’t know, I feel really weird.”

“What do you mean?”

“I just hated it, seeing the way they were clinging on to you,” Annabeth said tightly. “Why didn’t you just leave? It was like you wanted them to fawn all over you.”

“I tried but they wouldn’t let me leave.”

Annabeth met his eyes for the first time. “If you really wanted to leave, they wouldn’t have been able to stop you.”

Percy blinked in surprise and furrowed his brow. “Are you- are you jealous?”

Annabeth crossed her arms over her chest, and her face began to prickle. “I-I don’t know. I just didn’t like it.”

Percy’s lips tugged upwards involuntarily in a smile, making Annabeth even angrier. “What’s so funny?”

Percy hid his smile behind his hand. “Oh, um, nothing. Sorry. I just wanted to say that you didn’t have anything to worry about. They were making me super uncomfortable.”

Annabeth pursed her lips and said, “I find that kind of hard to believe.”

“Annabeth, come on, you could tell that they were creeping the fuck out of me from a mile away,” Percy said exasperatedly.

That was enough to coax a smile out of her. “You mean you didn’t like getting eye fucked by total strangers?”

Percy gave her an incredulous look and said, “You know, having tried it, I can’t really say it’s for me.”

“Yeah?” Annabeth asked, grinning.

“Yes,” Percy said flatly. “Besides, I already have a lovely fake-girlfriend willing to save me when I’m a damsel in distress.”

Annabeth’s heart skipped a beat. “Sounds like a real catch.”

“Oh, she most definitely is.”

Annabeth knew that Percy had meant it as a joke, but it made her heart squeeze a little in her chest all the same. She turned away before her face turned red and fought the ridiculous urge to smile. Christ, she needed to get ahold of herself.

“You good?” Percy asked carefully.

Annabeth nodded. “Yeah.”

“We should get going then,” Percy said. “The snow cones are starting to melt.”

“And who’s fault is that?” Annabeth said, raising an eyebrow.

“Don’t be rude to the guy that bought you a strawberry-rhubarb snow cone.”

“A thousand apologies, your majesty.”

Percy hummed happily to himself. “That’s more like it.”

:::

After sunset, they finally left the beach and made for Rachel’s villa. The villa was massive, easily twice the size of Annabeth’s house, and designed in a Spanish style. Annabeth took a moment to admire the terracotta tiled roof, and the large windows that allowed for a generous view of the Pacific. The villa had six separate bedrooms, which she personally found a bit excessive, but it proved to be for the best since there were eight of them. After Rachel took a room for herself, the rest of them drew straws to determine who would have a room to themselves, and Annabeth somehow managed to win.

Annabeth’s first course of action after dropping off her luggage was to shower. She didn’t like having to shower after spending so much time in the ocean since it made her skin all dry and wrinkly, but it was still a relief to finally wash off all the sand that had stuck to her all day. Unfortunately, Annabeth had been forced to pack in a hurry, so she could only change into what she worn earlier that morning. She had only brought a single change of clothes with her and that was for tomorrow.

She took some time to admire her room while she towel-dried her hair. It wasn’t particularly large, but it was tastefully decorated. A large queen bed sat in the center of the room, flanked by a small cherry wood drawer. Sheer linen curtains framed a tall window that looked out over the ocean. Annabeth leaned against the open window sill and drank in the view of the Pacific. The full moon hung directly overhead and cast its pale, diffused reflection onto the dark water below.

Just as she finished drying her hair, there was a knock at her door. Percy peered into her room, fiddling with the zipper on his sweatshirt.

“Hey, ready to go? I think Jason and Leo are getting the fire started.”

Annabeth set her towel aside and nodded. “Yeah, let’s go.”

The bonfire was nearly fully lit by the time they arrived. Jason sat atop one of the four logs circling the pit and kept a watchful eye on the flames. Off to the side, Frank was helping Leo dump some charcoal into the mouth of an expensive looking barbeque grill. Rachel and Hazel chatted to themselves and cut meat and vegetables at the outdoor kitchen countertop. Piper was the only one that appeared to be missing.

Percy noticed that Frank and Leo were having trouble and went over to help them with the grill, leaving Annabeth alone. She didn’t want to be the only one twiddling her thumbs so she figured she would go and help Rachel and Hazel.

“Need any help?” Annabeth asked them.

Hazel shook her head. “No thanks. We are pretty much done here, but we appreciate the offer.”

“Besides, not sure how much I trust you in the kitchen with a knife,” Rachel teased.

“I’m not completely hopeless. I made Percy chicken soup when he got sick, and he said it was pretty good,” Annabeth protested.

Rachel laughed and said, “You could literally make Percy drink poison, and he’d tell you it was delicious if you were the one that made it.”

Blood rushed to Annabeth’s face, making Rachel laugh even harder. She patted Annabeth’s shoulder benevolently and said, “Trust me. It’s for your own good, Chase.”

Annabeth shrugged her off and sat on one of the logs with a scowl. “Where’s Piper?”

“Rachel forgot to get her ingredients, so she had to go buy herself dinner again, the poor girl,” Hazel said.

Rachel looked repentant enough for Annabeth to feel sorry for her, so Annabeth tried to comfort her by saying, “She’s probably more than happy to have Taco Bell twice in one day.”

Annabeth started when someone swatted the back of her head. She turned and looked up with a frown to see Piper standing behind her, holding a burrito.

“Heard that, asshole.”

“You’re literally eating a burrito right now,” Annabeth muttered.

Piper’s face turned pink. “It’s from Chipotle! You can tell by the size!”

“Wow, someone’s getting adventurous,” Annabeth deadpanned.

Piper sat down at the log across from her, beside Jason, and narrowed her eyes. “Bite me.”

Annabeth was interrupted by Leo before she could respond. He skipped over to them with a manic grin and said, “We finally got the grill working!”

“You’re not gonna accidentally blow us up or anything right?” Piper asked dubiously.

“Pipes, charcoal can’t explode,” Leo said flatly. “I know you’re a vegetarian and all, but that’s literally second grade science class.”

“You can never be too sure when it comes to you,” Piper sniffed.

Leo rolled his eyes and waltzed over to Hazel and Rachel. “Looks like you’re almost done! I’ll start taking things over to the grill to get started.”

“Frank, make sure you keep an eye on him!” Hazel shouted when Leo took a plateful of meat and vegetables with him.

Rachel declared to the group that she would go find where her father had stashed his alcohol and returned a short while later with an assortment of liquor and a tray full of glasses. They all poured themselves drinks, apart from Percy, and sat around the fire.

Annabeth had helped herself to some fancy looking bourbon, mainly because she had never tried it before. Her first sip made her throat burn and forced her to cough. Percy gave her a worried look, but she ignored him and took another sip. Once she got over how strong it was, she had to admit that the bourbon was really good. It didn’t take long for that familiar warmth to spread through her body and soften the harsh edges of the world around her.

It took some time for the food to arrive, but it was well worth the wait. Frank had found an array of spices in the kitchen pantry to season the meat with, so even the smell was incredible. After an exhausting day at the beach, they all practically inhaled their food. Piper finished her food first since she had a head start and set up a smores station for dessert. It wasn’t long before they were fighting for spots to roast their marshmallows on the fire.

Later, Rachel disappeared inside the villa and returned with an acoustic guitar. She strummed a few chords and started singing softly, the sound of waves and the crackling fire providing an ambient backdrop. At first, she sang on her own and they were content to listen, but as they got more drunk and uninhibited, they would join in whenever she played a tune they recognized. Barring Frank and Piper, the rest of them were practically tone-deaf, so it sounded so bad that it would send them all into fits of laughter.

It was at times like this that Annabeth was struck by just how lucky she was to have such good friends. She didn’t have many good things in her life, but this was one of them and it wouldn’t last forever. There was no telling where they would all be in a years time or if they would ever be this close again, but that didn’t make her feel sad. Instead, an overwhelming sense of love and gratitude surged through her veins, compelling her to drink in every moment and seat it into her memory so that she would never forget.

But through it all, Annabeth found her eyes drawn to the boy sitting beside her the most. She unconsciously pulled herself closer to Percy over the course of the night and luxuriated in the way their elbows knocked together, a reminder that he was there. Annabeth would catch herself staring at him and the way the flames lit up his laughing face, making him all look every bit as invincible as she felt. At some point, she caught his hand and tangled his fingers between her own, and when he squeezed her hand, she smiled so hard it hurt.

As the night wore on, more of them left, unable to stay awake any longer, until eventually Percy and Annabeth were the only one remaining. The quietness was welcome change after all the noise they had been making, but it was hard not to fall asleep the sound of the rolling waves. Annabeth struggled to keep her drooping eyes open, but Percy looked perfectly fine, probably because he was the only one who hadn’t drank.

“You should go get some sleep,” Percy murmured. “Look like you’re gonna pass out.”

Annabeth hummed and rested her head on his shoulder. “Don’t want to.”

“If you’re expecting me to carry you, you’re going to be sorely mistaken,” Percy said, raising an eyebrow. “You’re too heavy.”

If she had the energy, Annabeth would have scowled. “Rude.”

Percy grinned and looked out over the ocean with a pensive, almost melancholy look. Annabeth poked his cheek with her finger to get him to look at her.

“What are you thinking about?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” Percy said. “About everything, I guess.”

“Hmm, deep.”

Percy laughed and said, “Alright, smarty pants, I was thinking about the future and my friends and you.”

“Then why do you look so sad?” Annabeth asked, sitting up straighter.

Percy blinked in surprise and said, “I look sad?”

Annabeth nodded and pressed a finger to his brow. “You’re giving yourself wrinkles, like you always do when you’re upset.”

There was a pause before Percy said, “Remember earlier when you saved me from those college girls?”

“What about it?”

Percy stared up at the sky and smiled bitterly. “I never imagined you would ever get jealous over me.”

Maybe it was the alcohol talking, but Annabeth found herself saying, “Neither did I.”

Percy turned to her with wide eyes, making her frown. “What?”

“I, uh, wasn’t expecting you to answer seriously.”

Annabeth rolled her eyes and nudged him affectionately. “I’m taking this seriously because you are.”

Percy smiled softly and said, “Thanks, I appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome, you dork,” Annabeth said fondly. “Honestly, since when did you become the serious, responsible out of the two of us. What ever happened to the kid that caught frogs during recess and put worms in Nancy Bobofit’s locker?”

Percy laughed and said, “Well, one of us had to grow up, so I figured it might as well be me.”

Annabeth half-heartedly jabbed him with her elbow. “Jerk.”

“You’ve grown up a lot too,” Percy said. “You just don’t realize it.”

“Yeah, how so?” Annabeth asked, raising an eyebrow.

“You’ve learned to temper yourself. When you were younger, it was like fire ran through your veins. You acted like the world and everything were promised to you, not out of some sense of arrogance, but like it was your birthright. I remember how you used to argue with the teachers and stuff in front of the whole class because it never occurred to you that there were people you shouldn’t pick fights with. I was always kind of in of awe of how stupidly brave you were. I still am,” Percy said, softly.

A lump formed in Annabeth’s throat. Percy was right, about everything, but that wasn’t what was getting to her. It was the fact that his words were a testament to the fact that he had been there with her since the beginning. He had seen her as a bossy, bratty little seven year old and had stuck by her side all the way till now.

“We have been through a lot together, haven’t we?” Annabeth asked thickly.

The tender look in Percy’s eyes made her heart squeeze a little in her chest. “Yeah, we have.”

Annabeth screwed her eyes shut, unable to look at him. She didn’t want this to end, but the moment was beginning to get too much for her, so she stood up suddenly.

“Alright, enough with all the sappiness,” Annabeth said. “Race you to the beach?”

Without waiting for him to respond, Annabeth took off for the water’s edge, running as hard as she could. Percy started a moment later, humoring her like always, and quickly made up the distance. If it wasn’t for the sand and the fact that she was super drunk, Annabeth would have won, but it wasn’t long before Percy caught up to her and slung her over his shoulder. Annabeth shrieked and pounded on his back.

“You better not dump me in the water, you asshole!” Annabeth yelled.

Percy ignored her and sped towards the water, making her fear for the worst. She braced herself for impact, but it never came. Instead, he set her down onto dry sand and grinned down at her. Annabeth scowled and stood up, dusting the sand off her shorts, watching as he rolled up his shorts and waded further into the water. The encroaching tide was cold enough to make her jump when it tickled her toes, but Percy seemed perfectly fine going knee deep into it.

The moonlight streamed down on him, illuminating half his face with its pale glow. Wind rustled his hair and billowed through his clothes as he stared out at the horizon. Under the moonlight, he seemed to age backwards and actually look his eighteen years - the hard lines of worry on his brow smoothened, and the tightness and frustration in his jaws released. There was something about his pale figure standing in the inky sea that made him look so beautiful and true that it made it hard for her to breathe. It reminded her of how Piper had said she had fallen for Jason, how he had seemed to glow, and she couldn’t help feeling like she understood exactly what Piper had meant.

Percy noticed her looking and raised an eyebrow. “What?”

Annabeth balled her hands into fists at her side. She wasn’t ready to say it. Not yet. “N-Nothing.”

Percy didn’t look convinced, but he shrugged all the same. Annabeth stared down at her feet so that she wouldn’t be forced to look at him, but her heart pounded in her chest urgently. She started when Percy draped his sweatshirt over her shoulders and stepped past her. It was warm, and it smelled like him.

“I’m gonna head inside,” Percy said softly. “Don’t stay out for too long, okay?”

Annabeth nodded, not trusting herself to speak. Percy lingered there for a moment longer before leaving. Annabeth waited till she heard him enter the villa before she collapsed down on the sand and hugged her knees to her chest. An explanation for her actions and feelings today were finally starting to dawn on her, which sent equal parts terror and exhilaration coursing through her as she stared up at the moon. Her inability to look at him conflicting with her desire never to leave him, the nervousness and exhilaration, the jealousy - all of it pointed to one thing. She was just having a hard time accepting it.

Whenever Annabeth had imagined falling in love, she had expected it to strike her like a bolt of lightning, illuminating her with a sudden, arresting, all-consuming knowledge.

She hadn’t ever imagined that it would be like this: soft and gentle, like an unfolding discovery, the way the petals unfurled when a flower bloomed. And yet, just as sure, just as certain.

Annabeth buried her face in her hands. Try as she might, she couldn’t deny it any longer.

Fuck.

She was in love with him, wasn’t she? She was in love with Percy Jackson.

#just practice #percabeth #percabeth fluff #percabeth fic #percy jackson #annabeth chase #percabeth fake dating au

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slytherinbarnes · 4 years ago

Text

Seasons Change [4]

iv. i will wait for you (as the leaves fall to the ground)

pairing: Steve Rogers x reader

word count: 1.4k

warnings: a little angst.

summary: despite running, the fallout from rome eventually catches up with you.

a/n: alright, that’s it!!! this is a wrap on this miniseries! please let me know what you think, I hope you enjoyed this series!

previous chapter // series masterlist // full masterlist

September 22, New York City.

The first phone call comes the day after you leave Rome, while you’re strapped into a Quinjet and heading to Siberia.

You know it’s Steve, because so few people have your number for your phone, and when the call comes in you put your phone on silent and slide it into your bag, not ready to confront the reality of what you discovered while playing pretend with Steve in Rome.

You’re falling in love with him.

When you initially proposed the friends with benefits arrangement, you thought there was no way you’d be the first to break the agreement and get attached. You’ve always been good at avoiding connections with others, and you thought Steve would be no exception. It seems as though you underestimated the pull of his personality though. He’s magnetic, and you can’t help but want to be around him.

And maybe he feels the same, you did see his drawings of you, but maybe those mean nothing, and admitting to your feelings will just have you making a fool of yourself. You don’t want to be the first to admit that you failed, that you broke the agreement, so you decide to run from your problems instead, the way you always have, burying yourself in work and using it as an excuse to avoid reality.

Steve calls again when you’re in Mozambique.

And Paris.

And Florida.

And Brazil.

But after a while, he stops calling. And the realization is heartbreaking.

In September, Fury says no more. Even he can tell you’re getting run down and clearly using work as an excuse to run from your personal life.

He puts you on a mandatory month long break, and after that he promises that your missions for the rest of the year will be stateside, giving you time to get your life together, giving you time to slow down and stop running.

When you land in New York, you realize that you missed the city more than you realized. The first thing you do is call your parents and tell them about your break, promising to visit them as soon as you get settled in. You hear an excitement in your mother's voice that you haven’t heard in years, and you realize now it’s been a while since you’ve been home, your longest time away yet, and maybe now, it’s time for you to stop running from everything.

No more running from your parents, or your trauma, or the memories of your brother. It’s time for you to sit down and figure everything out, time for you to visit your parents and talk about your brother and what his loss has meant to you, done to you. Time for you to admit your feelings to yourself, and to Steve, even if it ruins things between you.

Of course, that’s easier said than done.

Instead of heading to the Avengers Compound and staying in the room you have there, you go to your apartment instead, the one you just can’t seem to let go of. It's the first place you moved to when you got to the city, and it’s rent controlled, which makes it even harder to give up. You’re not here much anymore, but strangely, it’s still home to you.

More importantly, you have no chance of running into Steve here.

You spend the first week home catching up on any remaining paperwork and reading the same three books on your barren bookcase. On day 9, you switch on the TV, only to switch it off again within minutes, too overwhelmed with the choices of what to watch. Instead, you dig out an old puzzle, one of the few belongings in your apartment, and you spend two days piecing it together, listening to music as you work. On day 12, you wander to the fridge for a snack, only to pull the door open and find the shelves empty, wiped clean of the food you bought when you first arrived back home.

Sighing, you head to your room and pull on some pants and shoes, deciding a quick grocery trip will help to kill some time. You walk to one of the markets nearby, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows on the walls of the buildings lining the street, and a crisp breeze blows around you, promising an approach of fall.

When you reach the store, you grab a basket, looping your arm through it as you wander through the aisles, grabbing anything that sounds appealing to you. Wandering through a store without a list, and while hungry, is dangerous, and soon your basket is full of snacks and no meals. Making a deal with yourself, you decide the snacks can stay as long as you get a few other things to go along with it. Heading towards the produce, you grab a few things for salads and sandwiches, before deciding a head of lettuce should round out your basket and complete your trip.

As you reach for one of the heads of lettuce, another hand closes on top of yours, you and someone else reaching for the vegetable at the same time. You lift it and turn, intending to offer the head to the other person and grab a different one for yourself, only to drop it when you turn and lock eyes with Steve. His brows shoot up when he locks eyes with you, clearly surprised to see you in New York, and you send a silent curse to the Universe for making you do this now. “Hey.”

“Hey.” Steve smiles a little, the air between you tense and awkward. “When did you get home?”

“Uh… two weeks ago.”

His brows shoot up again, and he mutters, “Really?” You swear you hear disappointment in his voice, and it makes guilt flood your system. “Wow, that’s great.”

“Yeah.”

The air is thick with tension, and you squirm, aware that both of you now know that you’re avoiding him, no longer able to use work as an excuse. Steve shakes his head a little, turning to sit his basket on the ground, deciding to jump head first into the conversation. “I thought things were good after Rome.”

“They were!”

“Then why have you been avoiding me? You just up and left Rome, no note or anything, and you haven’t answered any of my calls.”

“I was-” You cut yourself off, about to use work as an excuse again, and you remember your earlier conversation to yourself. No more running. “I think I’ve been lying to myself.”

Steve shakes his head, not understanding. “What do you mean?”

Someone brushes past you to grab a bundle of carrots, and you almost laugh at the situation; confessing your feelings in a grocery store, after spending nearly two weeks straight locked up in your apartment, avoiding everyone. “I have feelings for you.”

Steve looks surprised again, and you hear him suck in a sharp breath, so you barrel on, wanting to get the confession out before he stops you. “And I know I shouldn’t say that because of our arrangement, but I feel like I should tell you because I promised myself I would stop running from everything.”

“What about work? We’re both always so busy, and-”

“I’m not.”

“What?”

“I’m not too busy, I mean. At least, not for the next few months. I spent 9 months away from home this year, and Fury decided to ground me for a few months and only take missions stateside, at least through the end of the year. I have a few things to take care of with my parents, but other than that, I’m free.”

Steve nods once, but says nothing, his eyes watching you closely. You want to squirm beneath his gaze, waiting with bated breath as he looks at you, but you force yourself to stand tall and wait for the rejection. “I’ve been thinking about stepping back more, letting Bucky and Sam have more responsibility.”

“So what are you saying?”

“No more running.” Steve steps forward, both of his hands reaching out and grabbing you, pulling you towards him quickly and crashing his lips to yours. You drop your basket, hearing it clatter by your feet as you reach out and grab Steve, pulling him close to you. You lose yourself in the kiss, realizing now how much you missed this, and Steve seems to feel the same, because he lets out a soft sigh before he pulls away and whispers, “I have feelings for you too, and I want to do this if you do.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

You look around, awkwardly realizing that you’ve confessed your love and drawn the eyes of other shoppers while standing in front of the lettuce. You reach down and grab your discarded basket, standing up straight again and looking at Steve. “So, what now?”

“Well, I heard you have a thing for cinnamon rolls, and I just so happen to know the perfect place to get some. All you have to do is say yes.”

Without hesitating, you reply, “Yes.”

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers smut #steve rogers x reader smut #steve rogers fanfiction #marvel fanfiction

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echoes-of-the-clockwork · 3 years ago

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Book One: Gold (Prompto x Reader) Chapter XXXV

A couple years later, rebuilding Insomnia was still in full swing. People were beginning to return to the city after hearing their king was alive and well after the darkness was vanquished. Noctis was still trying to get used to his duties as king, but he had the help of his friends. Even Cor returned to help him. Many of the Kingsglaive returned to help with the restoration project.

Today, (Y/n) was watching Prompto puzzling as he ran around frantically in his new office located in the Citadel. Some of his papers fell off his desk, which she picked up for him. After laying them back down on the desk, she called out to him. "Prom, what is going on that requires you to be running around like a chocobo with its head cut off?"

The man, who was now sorting quickly through his paperwork while standing up, looked over at her. "Oh, right! I haven't told you yet." He looked back down at the papers and grabbed his pen, promptly signing the documents. "We're going on a vacation!"

"Huh?" She blinked in shock.

"Noct told me to take a vacation with you or he was gonna kick my ass," Prompto chuckled. "He wants us to have some alone time after spending these last two years so focused on the restoration project. We...really haven't had much time for our private life."

"Now that you mention it, we really haven't. Whenever we're done here, we always wind up crashing at home. And then when we wake up, we're back on the job."

Prompto grabbed the paperwork and turned to leave the office. Before he left, he hooked an arm around her waist, pulled her into his side, and kissed her on the cheek. "Meet me outside in ten minutes. We'll go home and pack as quick as we can and then we are outta here!" He stormed out of the room and began running down the hallway.

(Y/n) rearranged Prompto's desk before leaving the office. As she closed the door behind her, she spotted Noctis walking down the hallway. She smiled and greeted him. "Hey, Noct. Never expected you to threaten your best friend with a vacation."

"You two need some time off," Noctis said. "So do I..."

A smirk made its way on her face. "So you can spend more time with your special someone?"

The king rubbed the back of his neck with a groan. "Who told you about that?"

"Gladio did."

"Of course he did..." He combed a few stray raven locks aside. "Actually, I was hoping to find you before you and Prompto left. I was hoping you could tell me a little more about guardians."

Her eyes widen. "Wait, is this woman you like a spirit?"

"Guess Gladio didn't mention that part," he chuckled.

She smiled. "Then I'll tell you all that I can."

As Noctis and (Y/n) chatted, they had lost track of time. They didn't realize how long they'd been talking until Prompto came running down the hallway. "Hey! How could you keep me waiting?" He pouted childishly, poking her in the side playfully. "We're supposed to go on vacation together!"

"Sorry, Prom," she said. "Noct and I were talking."

"Is this about his new girlfriend?"

"She's not my girlfriend," Noctis groaned.

"Then ask her out already!" Prompto shouted.

"You're worried about her master, aren't you?" (Y/n) asked.

"Something like that," the king sighed.

"Listen, I know you're probably worried she and her master will say no because you're the king, but there's only one way to learn the truth. Ask her and see how it goes. Don't worry about her master. And if you need my help when we get back, I will gladly lend my services."

Noctis smiled in relief. "Thanks, (Y/n)." He walked up to Prompto, patting him on the shoulder. "You two have fun."

"Oh, we totally are gonna have a ball!" Prompto grabbed the guardian's hand and dragged her out of the Citadel. They returned to their apartment, where they packed their things before leaving Insomnia.

Prompto was behind the wheel as they drove through Leide and crossed into the Duscae region. (Y/n) was wondering where he was taking her until she saw a familiar yellow sign. Her eyes widened as they pulled up to Wiz Chocobo Post. As she went to exit the car, Prompto beat her to it. He opened the door for her and took her hand in his. Closing the door, he smiled like a child in a candy shop. "There's someone that's been wanting to see you again for a long time."

The spirit allowed her beloved to drag her towards the pens. She wondered who wanted to see her since she couldn't think of anyone outside the city she knew. However, a bell of recognition went off inside her when spotting a chocobo with (f/c) feathers. "No way," she gasped. Prompto let go of her hand and she walked up to the pen occupied by her favorite chocobo. When the bird recognized her, he chirped loudly and flapped his wings in excitement. She petted the top of his head with a smile. "Hey, buddy. It's been a long time. Did you miss me?"

The chocobo nudged his beak against her cheek, making her giggle. She wrapped her arms around his neck and combed her fingers through his (f/c) feathers. "I missed you, too."

Prompto vanished to find Wiz. He rented two chocobos, one being the (f/c)-feathered bird who was fond of (Y/n). He returned to her and they took the two chocobos out of their pens. The couple left the outpost, riding atop the birds as they traveled across the Duscae region. They enjoyed the warmth of the sun and the beauty the wetlands had to offer. Prompto, of course, was still fond of photography and snapping picture after picture.

The couple stopped at the Alstor Slough and admired the catoblepases roaming through the wetlands in search of their next meal. Hopping off the chocobos, they stood at the water's edge. Prompto continues to take pictures until he was satisfied. All of a sudden, he remembered something. "Oh! I totally forgot!"

"Please don't tell me you forgot to pack something," (Y/n) groaned. "I even gave you a check list!"

He chuckled. "No, I packed everything." He shoves his hand into his pocket and pulls out a piece of paper. "I never really told you what happened the last time I came to Wiz's." Unfolding the aged, wrinkly paper, he showed her the portrait that was drawn on it.

(Y/n) took the paper from him, eyes widening slightly. "This is our portrait from Altissia..." Looking up, she stared into Prompto's eyes. "You carry it around with you?"

He nodded. "Yeah. It's also how I knew who this guy was," he said, pointing to the (f/c)-feathered chocobo. "Two years ago, I was back at Wiz's after finishing a job. It was before I learned Noct was coming back. He managed to grab the paper from my pocket and recognized you in the drawing. That's when I decided to promise to bring you back here to see him."

"I still can't believe I slept for ten years," (Y/n) mumbled sadly. "I wish I was there with you, Prom."

"I wanted you with me too, but I guess we really never get a say in what the Astrals have planned," he said. "But those ten years without you made me realize something."

"And what's that?"

Prompto took her hand in his, entwining their fingers together. "Come with me to Galdin Quay and I'll tell you."

The two mounted their chocobos and headed back to the outpost. They parted with their birds and headed to their next destination. Arriving in Galdin Quay, they took their luggage to the room Prompto paid for. After settling in their room and unpacking, they decided to get a bite to eat. At the counter of the Mother of Pearl, they placed their orders and waited patiently. As they did, (Y/n) shattered the silence lingering between her and Prompto. "Well, we're at Galdin Quay now. You gonna tell me?"

"Hold your chocobos, (Y/n)!" Prompto exclaimed. "Just...give me a couple of days to find the right words. In the meantime, we can enjoy all this delicious food and the beautiful beach!"

"All right, fine. I'll try to be patient," she sighed before poking him in the side and causing him to jump slightly. "Just don't keep me waiting too long."

Their dinner was served. Munching down on the delicious seafood, they savored every bite. When the food was gone, they paid and returned to their room for the night. The couple fell asleep after a few hours of chatting and getting comfortable in the plush bed. Their slumber was peaceful and both woke up early the next morning to relax on the beach.

(Y/n) grabbed her swimsuit and took off her nightwear. As she hooked her fingers under the elastic band of her panties, two toned arms snaked around her waist and pulled her against a bare chest. She tensed up slightly when Prompto nuzzled his face into the crook of her neck and his goatee grazed her skin. "H-Hey, that tickles!"

He chortled, kissing the side of her neck. "Sorry. I couldn't help myself."

"Are you going to let me put my bathing suit on or do I need to prepare for something more intimate?"

"Maybe later, but not right now. Even though it's very tempting seeing you like this..." He kisses her cheek before releasing her. "I'll go find us a spot while you change."

"All right. I'll be there in a few minutes."

Prompto left with all they would need to enjoy the beach while (Y/n) changed into her swimsuit. Adjusting the strings one final time, she was ready to go. Leaving the hotel room, she walked through the restaurant and crossed the boardwalk. She found Prompto not too far from the fishing pier. He had everything set out and prepared for them to enjoy their day at the beach. There were a few other people who had the same idea as them.

Crawling onto the towel next to Prompto's, (Y/n) basked in the warmth of the sun. She closed her eyes as a content sigh fell from her lips. Her eyes, however, shot open seconds later when she felt a cold substance come in contact with her abdomen. Lifting her head off the towel, she saw Prompto smiling innocently at her as he put sunscreen on her exposed stomach. "You can try acting innocent, but I know what's going on in that head of yours, Prom."

"I am not thinking dirty thoughts, I swear!" He protested.

"If you say it a little louder, you just might be able to convince yourself," she snickered.

Prompto's hand gravitated towards her sides, where he caresses his fingers against her exposed skin. A smile manifested on his face after hearing her moan slightly. "Who's the dirty one now?"

She rolled her eyes and sat up, taking him by surprise. She snatched up the bottle of sunscreen and placed her free hand against his bare chest. She pushed him down on his back into the sand and straddled his lap. She did just as he did and squirted a decent amount of sunscreen on his exposed belly. "Damn, that's cold!" He shrieked.

Now it was her turn to laugh at him. She laid both of her hands on his abdomen and began rubbing the sunscreen in. Her golden eyes were focused on his face. What caught her attention was him biting his bottom lip. Smirking, she traveled south with her hands and stopped just above the waistband of his swimming trunks. She teased him by slipping a few of her fingers under the waistband. That was just what she needed to hear the moan he's been suppressing. She removed her hands and moved them up to his chest. "Guess we're both feeling a little naughty today." She climbed off of him and got to her feet. "Let's take a dip and clear our heads before we get lost in our hormones."

(Y/n) grabbed Prompto's hand and hauled him up onto his feet. She dragged him towards the clear waters of the ocean, where they both swam for the next couple of hours. After playing a few water games with each other, Prompto swam towards the guardian and encircled one arm around her waist. He pulled her closer when she rested her head against his shoulder. They floated aimlessly, enjoying each other's touch.

After ten minutes of silence, Prompto spoke up. "Hey, (Y/n)? Remember when I said I'll need a couple of days to think about what to say?"

"Do you need more time?" She inquired.

"It's the opposite, actually. I think I know exactly what to say." He pulled them towards the shore. "Think you could wait for me on the beach? There's something I've gotta grab from my suitcase."

"Sure," she responded, wondering what he needed.

They swam back to shore. Prompto ran back to the hotel room while (Y/n) remained on the beach. She stood at the water's edge, allowing the gentle waves to wash over her feet. The sand stuck to her wet feet, but she didn't mind. It was the first time in her life she was able to enjoy the beach. Galdin Quay is the perfect spot to go on a vacation, especially if you wanted to relax on the beach. The water was clear and sparkled as the sun's warm rays casted down on the surface of the ocean.

Hearing the padding of footsteps and the faint crunch of sand, (Y/n) looked away from the ocean and saw Prompto had returned. A nervous smile was plastered on his face as he hid something behind his back. He came to a stop in front of her, swallowing hard. "Okay, I know I said I have the perfect thing to say, but I completely forgot it because of how nervous I am." He wiped at his forehead that was damp with sweat. "I think I'm sweating..."

"Try to calm down. I don't know what has you in a tizzy, but you look like you're about to pass out," she said. "Whatever you wanna say, just say it. You don't have to use any fancy words on me."

"Then I'll just come out and say it." Prompto kneeled down on a single knee and revealed the small black box he was hiding behind his back. Opening the lid, he revealed a beautiful ring with a golden diamond that matched her eyes and gemstone. Along the sides of the yellow diamond were two smaller white ones. Along the silver band were golden accents that matched the yellow diamond. "It's taken me a while to find the perfect moment to ask you, but I figured why not while we're in the most beautiful place in Lucis?"

(Y/n) stared wide-eyed at the beautiful ring. "Prom, are you...?"

"Proposing? Yeah..." He blushed in embarrassment. He looked up at her face with worry. "A-Am I doing this right? Or have I totally screwed this up?"

"N-No! You're doing just fine," she reassured him. "Please, continue."

He took a deep breath before continuing. "Those ten years without you made me realize how my life isn't complete without you. I felt so empty and useless without you. I don't ever wanna feel that way again. Will you marry this loser?"

"I don't see a loser. All I see is the man I'm deeply in love with," she smiled at him. "Of course I'll marry you, Prompto."

The man smiled back, his heart racing in his chest as he took the ring and slid it onto her ring finger. Once the ring was secured on her finger, he stood up and engulfed her in a hug. "Thank you, (Y/n)."

<--------------<<<<<

Five years have passed since Prompto proposed to (Y/n). With help from Noctis, Ignis, and Gladio, they both had a wonderful wedding. Now, the thirty-seven-year-old marksman was searching for his wife and their new addition to the family. Searching the Citadel, he found her and their four-year-old son, (S/n), in the training room.

(A/n: (S/n) stands for son's name in case some of you aren't aware. I couldn't think of any names and thought you guys would have one in mind. It's also to make this story more x reader friendly.)

(Y/n) was in her spiritual form, laying on her belly with her front paws stretched out in front of her and her back paws tucked under her. Her tails were splayed out across the marble floor as (S/n) climbed across her back and up her neck to reach her head. When he did, he outstretched a hand and began messing with the white tips of her ears. Her ears flicked over and over again at the feeling of her son's touch. They were always quite sensitive and it would always tickle her whenever someone touched them.

Prompto watched with a gentle smile. He chuckled when (S/n) managed to crawl up just a bit higher and sprawl his small body across the fox's face. "Okay, buddy," he approached them as (Y/n) lowered her head for him to grab their son. He grabbed (S/n) and lifted him off the spirit's face. "Mommy's not a jungle gym."

"But we were having so much fun!" The (h/c)-haired boy whined. The child looked over at his mother with cerulean eyes that were just like his father's. Although he was the child of a human and spirit, he looked like a normal boy with no guardian features. "Tell him, Mommy!"

(Y/n) changed back and stretched her arms up in the air. "We were, but mommy needs a nap. It's been a long day. We can play some more tomorrow, sweetheart. I promise."

An idea popped into Prompto's head. "Hey, how about you go see Gladio in his office? I'm sure he'll play with you."

"Okay!" (S/n) dashed out of the training room when Prompto put him down.

(Y/n) eyed her husband. "Are you trying to drive Gladio crazy? Or just trying to get rid of our son?"

"I would never get rid of (S/n)!" He denied. "It's to drive the big guy crazy. Besides, (S/n) loves him!"

"Looks like Gladio's the favorite uncle," she giggled.

"Speaking of the favorite uncle, Gladio's agreed to watch (S/n) for the rest of the day. You and I have some time for ourselves. What do you wanna do?"

She placed a hand on her hip with an eyebrow quirked up. "Don't you have work to do?"

"I finished early just so we could go out." He took her hand, entwining their fingers. "So, where do you wanna go?"

She smiled. "Surprise me."

"Leave it to me, milady!"

They left the Citadel and spent their time together by traveling to a few places around Insomnia. It had been hours since they left (S/n) in Gladio's care and the sun was setting. After grabbing a bite to eat and stopping by a bakery to buy some sweets, they headed home. Stepping into the apartment, they saw Gladio knocked out on the couch with (S/n) running circles around the coffee table.

"Little guy's so full of energy he wiped out Gladio," Prompto chuckled.

"Maybe we should save the sweets for later," (Y/n) mumbled.

"Mommy! Daddy!" (S/n) shouted when spotting them.

Prompto nudged his wife towards the kitchen and whispered. "Hide the sweets before he sees them. I'll keep him distracted."

The guardian quickly made her way to the kitchen and hid the items from the bakery. She placed them up high so (S/n) couldn't see or reach them. Leaving the kitchen, she found her husband and son sitting on the couch by the sleeping Gladio. She wondered what they were talking about and eavesdropped.

"C'mon, daddy!" (S/n) whined. "Tell me the story of how mommy took down that big monster again."

"You mean the behemoth?" Prompto asked.

"Yeah!"

"Whoa, hold it," (Y/n) intervened, knowing the story was gory. "Don't you think that story's a little too grown up for him, Prom?"

"Nah, don't worry about it, (Y/n). I leave out all the graphic parts," Prompto explained.

"Well, then...tell away."

While Prompto told the story, she tapped Gladio on his shoulder and gently roused him from his slumber. When the shield was fully awake, she offered him a grateful smile. "Thanks for watching him, Gladio."

"Hey, I love the kid. I'll watch him anytime you and Prompto want a night out on the town," he said, standing up.

"But what about your duties as Noct's shield?"

"Our lovely king has been really busy with his own personal affairs lately," he chuckled. "He plans on proposing to his special lady soon."

"Maybe it's about time you found your special someone."

"Trust me, I've got my eyes on a special gal. Now all I gotta do is ask her out," Gladio explained. He patted her on the shoulder. "I'm heading out. You three have fun."

"Bye, Gladio. Thanks again," (Y/n) replied.

"Anytime, (Y/n)." He walked past Prompto and (S/n), ruffling the little boy's (h/c) locks. "See ya, squirt. Make sure you don't stress your parents out too much."

"Bye, Uncle Gladdy!" He giggled, waving farewell to the man.

After hearing the door close, (Y/n) checked the time before sitting down beside her husband and son. She combed her hand through (S/n)'s messy locks. "Have you already ate, sweetie?"

"Mhmm. Uncle Gladdy ordered pizza for us. There's even leftovers in the fridge."

Suddenly, (S/n) yawned and leaned against his father's chest. He was having issues keeping his eyes open and warding off sleep. "Whoa, someone's tired," Prompto said. "It is a little past eight. I think it's time for someone to go to bed." Scooping the little boy up into his arms, he stood up from the couch.

"You wanna put him down tonight?" (Y/n) asked.

"Yeah. Meet me in the bedroom?" He questioned.

"Yeah. I'll be there shortly." She watched Prompto carry their son to his room before locking the front door and heading to the master bedroom. She crawled on to the bed, laying on her back. She stared up at the ceiling, mentally sorting through what she would need to do tomorrow. Her train of thought was derailed when she felt the mattress dip and saw Prompto looming over her. "Is (S/n) asleep?" She inquired.

"Yep," he answered before leaning down and placing a kiss on her forehead. He snuck a hand under her shirt and traced circles on her soft skin. "So..."

"What do you want?" She sighed.

"You, uh... You think we could have another kid? Y'know, so (S/n) can have a little brother or sister?" Prompto muttered, eyes full of wonderment.

"You want another kid after four years?"

"Bad timing?"

She shook her head. "No, it's just...why now all of a sudden?"

"Well, (S/n) told me how much he wanted a brother or sister while I was tucking him in. And I think having another kid would be great! I just hope it's a girl this time. I want a little (Y/n) running around."

A smirk crept onto the guardian's face. She pushed Prompto down on the bed and straddled his lap. "Well then, I guess we better get started."

<-------------<<<<<

After their sexual escapade, it was only a little past nine. Both were sweaty and in need of a shower. (Y/n) wrapped the sheets around her bare chest as she sat up. "Guess I'll have to wash the sheets again."

"I would hold off on that," Prompto chuckled.

She looked over at him, puzzled. "And why's that?"

"We're gonna enjoy ourselves again tomorrow night, and maybe even the next night..."

She smacked him on the arm. "We're lucky (S/n) didn't hear us tonight. It's too risky to do this every night, especially since his room is literally right across from ours."

Prompto smirked as he sat up. "That just means we'll have to be extra quiet." He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her naked body against his. He pressed a kiss against her forehead and hair. He tucked her smaller form against his side, resting his head on top of hers. "Honestly, I'm happy with just hugging and kissing you."

She wrapped her arms around his waist and snuggled closer. "Me too, Prom. To be honest, I never saw this in our future, but I'm happy it was. I love you so much."

"I love you too, (Y/n)," he whispered. "You've made me the happiest man on Eos."

"Let's continue to make each other happy as long as we can, okay?"

He nodded his head with a gentle smile. "Deal."

••••••••••END••••••••••

A/n: This marks the end of Book One: Gold! Next up is Book Two: Sapphire (Ignis x Reader). I've also made a minor change to the lineup of books. Book three has been changed from Diamond to Amethyst. Hope you guys are excited for the next book because I know I am! Love you all!!!

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#final fantasy xv #final fantasy xv x reader #ffxv #ffxv x reader #prompto argentum #prompto x reader #prompto argentum x reader

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